#poor beat up claude

[fe-fictions]

Any Claude angst.

(Claude getting kidnapped and rescued by his wife??? Speaking of reverse kidnaps... ;0 )

There’s always a bigger fish.

You and Claude lived by those words, without any question. However, when things were finally calming down and peace rose in the nations, you started to think that maybe, just this once...you hadn’t any danger to worry over.

Then you woke one morning to blurred vision, hot wetness dripping down the side of your face, and your limbs bound while submerged voices panicked around you.

You had been in a fight the night before, trying to protect your husband, before you were incapacitated and left to die. Hilda discovered you when the two of you didn’t show for morning training. The Queen of Almyra was assaulted; the King was taken.

It would be a painful few days before you could strategize without getting a headache. But it was imperative that the Golden Deer reassemble and hunt down your husband’s captors. 

Who would have it out for him, besides the obvious? After all, countless threats had been extinguished following the end of the five year war.

At this point, you weren’t worried so much about “who” as you were “where”. If your husband was in danger and you couldn’t find him...that needed to change as soon as possible. 

Hilda searched like a madman; she knew how frightened you were, and it made perfect sense given that she was also best friends with the man. She knew how it felt to have a part of you ripped away all of a sudden. 

She was with Raphael and Ignatz, who put their tracking skills to use as best they could. You remained on the ground, where Marianne was basically by your side constantly. Seteth and Flayn had traveled from the monastery all the way to Almyra, where they needed to make sure you were safe and recovering.

Seteth’s concern wasn’t that troublesome man, he snapped at you, applying the herbal salve to the deep gash on your head, it was your health.

But he would be lying if he didn’t understand your fear. Claude wasn’t his favorite individual, but he knew how deeply you cared for the man- he would do whatever he could to help you bring him home.

Flayn made sure to keep your health on the road to recovery with Marianne walking in lockstep beside her.

You didn’t enjoy all the extra attention; it was too much trouble. You weren’t the one who needed help- Khalid did.

Sleep was rare on the days where no information was found. There were minimal clues, little to nothing for you to go by, and as far as you were aware...he was just gone.

You didn’t know what to do, and you could only think about what was happening to him. Or rather, what you thought was happening. Hilda told you not to think on such things; otherwise you’d look like Marianne when she was still a student.

You wanted to at least humor her advice, but how could you? Where were you supposed to find any semblance of mirth when Claude wasn’t safe in your arms?

Your fists would clench at every meeting where the same thing was repeated b y the reconnaissance team.

Nothing was found, nothing to report.

For two weeks straight, that was the answer you always received.

You weren’t sure you could handle a third. 

It was midnight on the turn of the week that saw Hilda bursting into the bedroom with that fanatical sparkle in her eyes.

They had a hint. A solid, confirmable lead.

They had found Claude’s signet ring.

Fallen from a great height, likely being carried on the back of a wyvern. It was Khalid’s beast that had found it in the first place, several hundred miles from the castle and hidden by forest brush. But it was something.

Seteth took you into the air, following Hilda’s directions to regroup with the Deer that had found the ring.

You recognized the bright white beast from quite a distance, spotting him charging along the ground, following a faint trail that he wouldn’t be able to follow from the air.

It was like watching a giant, scaly bear trample an entire forest. It was difficult for the people on the ground to follow, Seteth’s dragon only barely keeping up. The poor thing was just as frantic as you were on the inside.

You rushed after him and refused to stop for miles. The sky would jut begin breaking into sunrise when the wyvern suddenly stopped, growling and whining and chuffing at a very specific point in the ground.

The ground.

“They’re keeping him somewhere below. There’s a hideout, here. We need to find the entrance.” You realized, and found your army quickly spreading out to find the secret door.

“Not to worry, Professor; It can’t be far from here; any Almyran hideaways like this are always quite small. Whoever’s using it is either a bandit or someone who wasn't planning on keeping him here for long. We’re very close to the border of the neighboring country...and they weren’t thrilled with Claude becoming king.”

How many prayers were whispered night after night, begging for begging that Khalid be brought back safe and unharmed/ And now your wishes were becoming reality.

All you had to do was find a way in.

It was Lorenz who spotted the entrance, ushering everyone over to try and formulate some sort of strategy. You didn’t want to just charge in and give Claude more cuts and bruises than he already had.

Unfortunately, your desires were overrun by a very angry wyvern crashing through the door and spitting hellfire through every corridor that it would reach.

Panicked screams filled the air and you launched into action. There would be little time to strategize, after all.

“Marianne! Take Seteth and head down the far east corridor- I want Hilda and Lorenz to the west, and Raphael, you’re with me and Flayn!! Everyone else, take the final hall to the south and do not come back unless you have taken every enemy down or found Claude!!”

And so the investigation began. You were sprinting, refusing to slow down for half a second. If you did, Khalid could be dead.

Raphael muscled his way through the doors, cutting through the wooden old things like it was paper.

You would have been proud of him had you not been so full of worry.

“Pleas, let him be here.” You mumbled to yourself, swerving around the corner and sending Raphael through the door. There was another door smashed, then another, and another. Then, suddenly, you reached the fifth entrance.

There was a shift inside, and then a heavy, wet cough muffled by the door. Raphael wasted no time bringing it down, and thank the Goddess for it.

There, crumpled and pathetically propped up against the wall, was your husband.

“Kh- Claude!!” You nearly forgot yourself as you rushed to him. The chains rattled as he drew further into himself. He was trying to protect himself.

“Oh Sothis- what happened to him?” Marianne gasped, stumbling over herself when she came into the room. The sight of him made the Deer recoil in shock.

Was this truly their fearless leader?

You were far more concerned with getting his eyes open. Your fingers closed, shaking, around those nasty chains. They were broken away from his limbs, at the very least freeing his movement. Then you touched his face, trying to draw his eyes back to you.

“Claude, it’s me. It’s Byleth.” He seemed to shift some at your voice, but you weren’t convinced he could hear you. 

Dried blood was caked on his skin, little remaining of his clothing that wasn’t ripped or torn. There were so many injuries, so much that had been beaten out of him.

“Claude...Claude.” You echoed his name over and over, holding his face in your hands. His eyes were foggy, darkness looming and consciousness fading. Had you been too late?

You bit your lip, fighting back the sob welling in your chest. You pressed closer to him, ignorant of the Deer that were quickly filling the nightmarish space.

It was just the two of you.

“Khalid.” 

Claude’s eyes flickered, if only for a moment. You inched closer and searched for the recognition in his expression. His brow tensed, as though trying desperately to focus on what was in front of him. To figure out if this was real or not.

If he really heard his wife calling his name.

“...By…”

You all but broke down sobbing, right there.

“It’s me. I’m here.” You whispered, “We found you.”

His smile was small and weak, but it was very much so there. You were sure he was laughing, had it not been overwhelmed by a wet cough.

“Oh, baby.” You whispered, “Let’s get you home.”

You held him to your chest as the healers worked their literal magic. He was slumped against you, his back to you while they worked on the most egregious wounds.

The suspicions of terrorism had been correct; countrymen that shared a border with Almyra wanted Claude gone. But not before they got some valuable information from him.

It made your nerves crawl and your arms tighten around him.

Claude was supposed to die.

He was limp against you while they worked, but he was breathing; you wondered if it was because he was too weak to properly move, or because he was truly relieved that he was in your hands, rather than those of a very violent enemy.

A few hours passed before Claude was cleared for movement outside of the room. You helped carry him from the room, Raphael and Seteth by your side and getting him to the caravan that had only just arrived.

It would be a longer journey home, but what mattered was you were bringing a living Claude with you; not a lifeless body.

He didn’t speak after being taken from the hideout, having fallen asleep in your arms. When he woke, though, he was safe and warm, lying in his bed back at home.

Like everything he had suffered through was only a dream.

But when you saw him wake, and he felt you crying silently against him, he knew it was real. Horribly, terribly real.

“S’okay, dearheart.” He rasped to you, his voice hoarse and devoid of any real tonality. He was definitely not back to 100%, but at the very least, he was no longer on the verge of death.

“Khalid...you almost...I-I...nobody knew if you were going to wake back up.” You whispered shakily, squeezing his hand and holding it to your chest. “I thought we were too late.”

“Looks like you got to me just in time.” He replied with a patient smile, though opted not to move his head or body more than he had to. That pain wasn’t going to fade for a long while. “Y-you really...saved me.”

“You stayed with me long enough to get to you.” You stroked his hair tenderly, “I’m just glad that you’re home.”

“Me, too.” There was something akin to a laugh that escaped him, especially when your lips touched his forehead. “Hey, now...y-you missed.”

“Khalid, you’re still weak.”

“You think a kiss is gonna kill me?”

“I’m trying to be gentle with you, you old goat.” You chided him without a lick of anger in your tone. He rolled his eyes and tilted his chin up, prompting a proper kiss.

“Come on. I’m suffering; a-aren’t you gonna ease the pain a little bit?”

“I’ve half a mind to make it worse.” You muttered, but you complied all the same. Your hands rested against his chest with a very gentle touch,

Rather than smacking him upside the head as you were tempted to...you kissed him. It was gentle, and slow, and filled you with warmth you had longed for. Claude tilted his head, turning to deepen the kiss almost enough to get himself into trouble.

You held him to you for as long as possible, breaking away with a soft pop that made Claude blush beneath all those cuts and bruises.

“There’s my girl.” 

“You need to rest.” You whispered, playing with his hair and relishing that dreamy expression on his face. “The sooner you’re back on your feet, the better.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” He murmured, leaning into your touch. “I owe you big time, dearheart.”

“Please. Having you home is more than enough.”

Claude would dismiss your insistence that he needn’t repay you, but the love he felt for you could very rarely be contained. After all, you meant the world to him, and he wasn’t going to stand by and let you give him one nice kiss and then let things go back to normal.

No, the second he could shower you in every gift and form of affection as physically possible, he absolutely would.

You saved his life. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t love you anymore than he already did...you proved that there was so much more inside him, a thousand fold.

He would spend every second of the rest of his life showing you just how much you meant to him.

[phanhlee]

(I'm gonna tell more about him, cause' I'm bored as shit. This is something that I wrote out of nowhere so the writing is...)

Tag: Claude Frollo x Helzon Sullivan (male!OC)

---------------------------------

Helzon Sullivan is a 130-year-old immortal monster, a nãga (those have human torso but serpent thick tail) that cursed by both demons and angels.

He was raised by his mother, who was a beautiful woman but work as a prostitute of the brothel. She met Helzon's father in workplace, who is a Greek demon in disguise. He bought her, took her to Greece and treated her like a goddess. However, when he found out she was pregnant, he kicked her out because he thought...human can't carry a devil's child.

Helzon's mother left him when he was ten. She jumped down into a river and let the water brought her to the love of her life...in hell. The poor child is left to live alone, suffering the devil blood in his veins.

Helzon can't die, or sleep properly. The only time he can experience sleep is when he turns back into his true form during the "heat period" every 100 days.

His normal form is a gorgeous tall man (1m89) with a pair of special silver eyes, taken from his devil father, and dark hair to shoulder level. However, this is just a "borrowed" body, his real form is very much different.

Helzon's real form is a giant nãga with pure black skin and long white hair (No detail yet) and he has tentacles (because I like them)

Helzon's nature is a calm, unbothered man. He can be kind when he want to, and cruel when it's necessary. He won't intervene when Claude catches the Gypsy "criminals" but will take an arrow for anyone who is near.

Helzon is sometimes very cold, but he is polite nonetheless. He would wish Claude a good day even when the judge just slaps him across his face and puches him.

He will respect people's admiration for him and treat them kindly, but won't give them hope. His usual excuses are "Being with me only brings you misery" "I am a boring man" "You won't say that after seeing the true me" and bla bla.

However, Helzon never broke his promises. He would help anyone if they asked him properly, and kill a person at the same time. Even in his human form, Helzon has such inhuman strength, and his wounds would leave no scar after he changed back to Nãga form.

Helzon has a soft spot for children, and the crying stuffs (which Claude did use to seduce him). He also has a high sense of sympathy, especially for the women in the brothel, because they remind him of his mother. He loves his mother.

-------------------------------------

Helzon arrived at Paris as a free soldier, had a nice cozy home and a job that demanding him to leave home for long trips.

His life changed when he met that cruel judge Claude Frollo, who has had an obsession with Helzon since their first encounter on the streets.

He completely ignores Claude at first, despite the judge continuously stalking and cursing him. Helzon puts the words and actions out of his mind, and of course, that irritated Claude like hell burning along his veins.

People know Claude Frollo. If he wanted something, he would kill to get it. Eventually, Claude accused Helzon of a crime that he didn't commit and put him into jail.

However, Helzon never gave in to Claude's pleasure. He stayed in the jail, being beat and tortured by the soldiers, yet, never complaint.

Until one day, Claude decided that he would get Helzon out of his cell, only if Helzon agreed to be his servant, his dog. He wasn't asking though, Helzon obviously had no choice.

In this time, the two lived together in Claude's palace. They ate together, read together... And sometimes, Claude would have some tricks to get into Helzon's bathtub or his bed.

Yet, all of those attempts couldn't make Helzon give up his believes that Claude would leave him after viewing his true form. So, the man closes his heart even tighter despite all the judge's efforts....

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That's the part 1!

The story line is just the summarized one. There are many interesting and funny stories when Claude denied his own obsession and feelings, yet went after Helzon anyway :) Claude's harsh journey to find the happiness like the first picture is still long...

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Flowing Sea

Author's Note: More of Zariel and his brothers in Living Waters AU. Thank you to @sleepyfan-blog for letting me borrow Cedric. Thank you to @kit-williams for letting me borrow Arnault, Roland. Thank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow Erriox, Lenora, and Mara, and helping with editing and stuff for this chapter!

Summary: Zariel and his brothers, amongst a temporary warband of brothers have gone to find and rescue Claude from the Clutches of a Grey Knight.

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

It takes a week of tracking and hunting- and magic woven spells to find them. Lana finds Claude first- knowing the shape and feel of his soul and magic much better, having known him for months. Zariel and his brothers had listened to the plans the rest of the Space Marines had come up with and agreed to support them, while also making their own plans and how to survive this encounter.

“Knight of Grey,” Erriox growls out- projecting his voice, using his external vox to get the other’s attention.

He sees the way Claude looks at him- half hopeful, half terrified. The rest of the motley crew of Astartes nearby, the rest of Claude’s brothers were in tactically protected locations, for now at least. Cedric ready with some of the other Apothecaries that they brought- not just for Claude, but should this fight turn on them- to help patch up and pull them back, if need be.

Zariel eyes the poor Scout- his Apothecary training chiming in with the damages and wounds that are visible- and how long it’s going to take to fix the poor boy. He mentally tuts- that’s not how you train a Scout. Well- you could, but it would only breed resentment and terror, would not ensure loyalty and actual obedience and trust in the Scout.

“Warrior of Iron,” The Grey Knight says, eyeing him briefly, waving a dismissive hand, “begone- you are unneeded here. Leave before I decide to kill you.”

“You have Claude- he’s one of my shoal, one of my sons,” Erriox continues, his fins flaring aggressively, “Give him back.”

“This chimeric whelp has no Iron in him,” The Grey Knight says, with a dismissive wave of his hand. Claude flinches and tracks the movement of the Grey Knights hand, curling more in on himself, and pressing more into the floor of the ocean.

“That doesn’t matter,” Erriox retorts, “I have claimed him as mine, and you shall return him.”

“Or what?” The Grey Knight says with a sneer in his voice, “it’s not like you can defeat one such as I.”

“Not on my own,” Erriox says, grudgingly, “But I and my Champions will find a way to defeat you. How much blood and pain you suffer, depends on how stubborn you are in returning my son Claude to me.”

“I doubt all of you together could beat me,” The Grey Knight says, the dismissive sneer returning to his voice.

“How about we make a wager?” Zariel says slyly. “If we manage to take Claude from you in this battle of arms and might, we get to keep him. Should you manage to keep him from all of us, then… we will have to back off for a time.”

“How long would I have to defend the whelp from your pathetic attempts?” The Grey Knight asks, for some reason, he wants to humor these impudent lesser astartes. It’s been a while since he’s had a challenge. Perhaps they might even be amusing.

“Four hours,” Zariel says, “A battle for four hours, or until one of us manages to steal Claude from you.”

About the length of a sleep cycle- very well, The Gray Knight has been in battles for far longer and with far worse odds and has succeeded. He hums a little, “very well then.”

“Let's start in, 3, 2, 1,” Zariel says, almost singing a song- mostly to annoy the Grey Knight.

They had allowed Erriox to be the spokesperson for the group- as Claude was his son that had been stolen. And Also the Iron Warrior and not-so-slowly been losing his mind the longer it has taken to find and rescue Claude from the clutches of the Gray Knight. 

Zariel is glad that the Scout-ling is still alive- if badly damaged. Jophiel had confided that Claude could be stubborn about things, and didn’t like using his Psykery. Which was understandable- it’s a dangerous gift that if it’s not done properly could have catastrophic consequences.

There had been a wealth of information given to him by Jophiel, Cedric, Catius and Ramiel about this Gray Knight- and they’d briefly mentioned a lesser threat, a Petras- or something like that. They will have to deal with that as well- but from the way Roland and Arnault had reacted, they were going to watch what the Older Black Templars do to that one with cackling commentary.

It's really fun to watch Black Templars tear into a bitch, so long as it wasn’t you or yours. Dramatic, loud, and expressive. Which is interesting, for Sons of Dorn can be, and are Stoic and difficult to parse out, unless their tempers are roused- then they have a volcanic fury that can topple star systems in a blink of an eye.

They focused more on the Gray Knight, who has kidnapped poor Claude- but they will circle back to that Petras person and get more information from the boys about that person and how dead, or something else that person needed to be.

Zariel makes sure to focus on the present- a battle is starting and he can’t be distracted by fascinating information that was tantalizingly dangled in front of him. He has a Known Threat in front of him to deal with. Perhaps after this the Primaris Squad will be more trusting, or willing to trust them after rescuing their brother-cousin from the clutches of a personal Nightmare of theirs.

Arnault is the first to charge in, making sure his sword is chained to his hand as he and Roland Charge forth, swift and fierce. They will deal with the reveal that Claude is also a Witch at a later point in time. Being Warp-cursed could happen spontaneously and it’s not the poor boy’s fault that he was in the clutches of an uber-witch and likely tortured, and was told it was ‘training’.

The Grey knight raises his glowing blade and blocks their attacks, and the rest of them swarm the giant silver and gold colored bastard. The battle is fierce, there are almost a dozen of them, against one opponent. It should be more favorable to the many, versus the one, but the boys weren’t kidding when they said that Grey Knights are comparable in might to a Fucking Custodes.

The next two or so hours are a blur- even with their own stamina and strength, fighting against this ghastly opponent who wielded physical and psychic might aplenty was really difficult. Cedric and one of the other Apothecaries has already dragged several of the Iron Warriors out of the fray, frantically tending to their critical wounds. The Grey Knight is going after the Chaos and Renegade Space Marines for the kill or crippling blows first.

While the Gray Knight is thoroughly distracted by an onslaught from three of the Black Templars- Ramiel wielding his- Tempermortis, finally able to get into position to activate it. The flow of time slows around the Grey Knight, allowing them room to breathe and fight more swiftly the glowing bastard in fancy armor.

Zariel sneaks around the edges of the battle, he and the rest of the Alpha legionaries are not close combat, or long range combat specialists. Their field of battle is in subterfuge and weakening the enemies through political chaos and intrigue, not this kind of fighting. He finds where Claude is curled in on himself. Heavily wounded and slowly, slowly trying to move himself away from where the Gray Knight had tossed him. Good lad- trying to help them, by trying to get out of the bastard’s side of the battle field.

“Hey,” Zariel hisses, Claude whirls to face him, eyes wide and slightly off-coloured- but Psykery can change the color of a person’s eyes briefly while in use, so he might be trying to use it, “Stop that- I’m trying to get you out of here. One of the ways we could win is grabbing you and getting you out of here. I can move you faster.”

He reaches out a hand- as much as he wants to lunge forward and drag the Scout with him. As badly hurt as he currently is, trying to grab and drag him without the other agreeing to his aid will be difficult as Claude is really large and his thrashing will gain the notice and wrath of the Gray Knight. Claude looks hesitant, but between him- and looking towards where the Gray Knight and the rest of the rescue force are, something flickers, and resolve set in his face and hesitantly he reaches out and grabs Zariel’s hand.

Zariel feels something warm spread through his hearts and mind at Claude’s touch, he’s pleased that Claude is finally giving him some sort of trust as he swiftly pulls him in close and tugs one of Claude’s arms around his shoulder and he securely hikes the youngster up into a fireman’s carry.

Then he moves as fast as he can, aiming towards the sky and activating his Flight ability as he calls out, “Lana, Zenaid, Lenora!!”

They fly towards him, and light up when they see who he’s got, although quickly are worried by how wounded he looks. The harpies fly down to meet Zariel up in the middle to help grab Claude- and fly him away from the battle.

[haru-natsuka]

The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 2 : Meeting

On their first meet with each other, the two humans shyly conversed with one another. The find each other to be a pleasant companion to share a conversation with until the two count the days for them to meet again...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

The sun was blazing brightly in the sky and its warmth enveloped the Obelian empire warmly which was in line with the empire of being called the blessed sun kingdom. The people in the empire, they perceived the warmth of the sun as the true pillar of the empire. Although no rain ever fall, the river never dried, the flower bloomed marvelously and a lot of humans live perfectly. The warmth of the sun is just nice, not meant to dry any living thing and just be a pleasant existence. This is the true nature of the Obelian empire.

The little girl with one palm placed against another, her chin placed on top of it, she watched the outside scenery with delight as she ride her carriage. Silently, in her mind, she compared the empire with her country which was opposite of one another. If the netizen in Obelian was blessed with the sun, her country was blessed with the moon. They even have a lot of rumours that are being passed to outsiders that if one man wants to know the true meaning of night, they need to come to her country.

Most of the royalty even said the god of the moon had bestowed on them the beauty of the night. With purple eyes as dark as the dark sky, skin as pale as the moonlight and hairs as blazing white as the moon. That is the royal family trait which Celestial did not fall far away from the description too. Indeed, every single royalty in her family was a beauty that would make others feel jealous but the royal family was also well known for their kindness to the city which make most of them pledge their loyalty to serve the country with their life.

Celestial lives her life peacefully as the third princess of her kingdom. Her parent loves her. Her siblings love her. Her citizen loves her. She live her life with a lot of love that made her scared to leave her comfort zone. However, she knew the burden of becoming a princess of her country. She was born with great responsibility and she was mentally and physically prepared to fulfill her duty. It was a duty which all her ancestors already fulfilled with greatness which was none other than marriage. A marriage of a royal member to another kingdom strengthens the bond between them to avoid any war from occurring. 1 week ago, Celestrial was called by the emperor of Obelian and now she was on her way there. It was for none other than become the candidate as a princess who will be married into one of the princes.

Obelia was only blessed with 2 princes one of them was born from the empress while the other one was from the mistress. There were no details of the story of the affair going around in the palace. Therefore, Celestial knowledge of the palace was just a little based on the rumours going around that she picked up during some balls she attended. Her heart was beating so fast as she did recognise the carriage was passing the town already. Her journey to the empire became closer and she was nervous about the way she should act. It was not like her etiquette was that poor but when you are so nervous any mistakes manage to occur. She is a princess in her kingdom and her embarrassment becomes the kingdom's embarrassment.

As Celestial was busy indulging herself in her world, the door of the carriage suddenly being open. Her body unconsciously sit farther from the door and she tried to squeeze her body to the opposite side. This was it. This was the time for her to wear her title right as the princess. Upon it being fullied open, a young hand extended towards her direction and it followed with a young, charming voice of a child.

"I, Anastacius De Alger Obelia, the crown prince of the Obelian kingdom, welcome the princess of Selene Empire." She did not know why but the person who greet her seemed to be someone just around her age, her anxiety from before slowly melt down.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Highness" Celestial took his extended hand and tried to hold it as gently as possible. She never holds anyone's hands before except someone from her family. This would be her first time but she needs to act as normal as she could. Need to be firm. Need to be in grace. She came here not because she just wanted to meet the princes but for her to gain their hearts. Especially the emperor and empress's heart.

Celestial elegantly stepped down the stairs one by one with the help of the crown prince. The other servants or attendants around immediately regard the princess as a kid who hold early maturity as her behaviour was the same as an adult's. Upon stepping onto the cold ground, she wasted no time greeting the crown prince like how she was taught to practice.

"Blessing and glory upon the Obelian Empire. Greetings to the sun of Obelia." Celestial bowed only slightly. For a princess, there is no need to bow until she bends her body in half. If she does that, it means she is in the same position as another noble who died not suit her title as princess.

"You may rise, my princess." The little boy genuinely smiles at her. As she raise her face, the first thing that she noticed was his mesmerizing pair of crystal blue eyes that only the royalty from Obelian could possess. The rumour of the most beautiful eyes that mankind could overbear. The truly blessing lineage among humans. His round pair of cerulean crystal blue eyes was screaming purity, innocence and kindness that enough to make the princess less nervous as she felt safe being around him. Indeed not only his words were welcoming but his eyes too. He is a prince who does not ever lie.

"I'm sorry if  there is any lacking in our preparation to welcome your presence." The two continue their walks with Anastacius being the one who leads their path.

"No need to, Your Highness. I'm not in a position to demand so much right? I'm the one who should apologise for taking your busy time"

"Gladly, I would like to say that your presence is not such a hindrance at all as I also wish to have a friend to play with. I'm the one who has been waiting for your arrival princess."

Then, the two of them spend time knowing each other in detail. Both felt pleasant with each other accompany. They have a long conversation about the fact of each other kingdom to their personal matter. They already imagine how wonderful it is to spend more time with each other on the day next. The movement of the time was left unnoticed as their conversation never stopped until a servant whose name was barely known stepped into the conversation and both of the royals quiet down to focus on the uncalled servant. The servant just brought a piece of bad news.

"Prince Claude has fainted, Your Highness!" Hearing the devastating news, Anastacius wasted no time than dashed his two short legs to his brother's chamber. Out of everyone, Claude needs him the most as he is the only one who can help him. As he is the only one who has the power and empathy to do so.

"Your Highness, may I follow you along?" Celestial voiced out as she saw how the crown prince cared about his brother. It touched her heart as there were barely any siblings especially among royals to have compensation for their younger sibling as it was just a threat to their right to the throne. This kid in front of her was truly a blessing for the Obelian empire and she was willing to give her help as she knows she can due to her ability.

"I don't think that rather appropriate. I do apologise we need to cut our conversation short, Princess Celestial. We will meet again, tomorrow"

"Your Highness, I just want to offer my help as I know I can help you with Prince Claude. Please believe in me and allow me to go with you."

Chapter 1 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 3

[cosmiconix]

So, due to my ask box being closed & my notifications for messages on Tumblr having been acting up lately, I completely missed this lovely message that @faceless-creature had asked to be sent to Claude Frollo. Today, Frollo gets to receive the following message from this wonderful creator. ☺️

From @faceless-creature : Hey there! I have something that I would like to say to Frollo, but didn't know where to send this message. Would you mind relaying this to him??

If so:

Frollo, I get that you regret what you've done! I also get that you can't turn back time. I've done some... Questionable things... I wish I could turn back time and fix it. Don't beat yourself up forever love. The first step to healing is admitting to your mistakes. You'll get there eventually, it took me well over a hundred years! And here! *Gives frollo a flower crown and a faceless doll*

I made the crown myself! Sorry that it's a little bit shredded, it's kinda difficult to make something so delicate with these claws aha.. The doll is my calling signal! See how it looks like me? Squeeze it's chest and say "I summon thee to my side" and I'll be there, whenever you need me! I know that you're not so comfortable with demon's but... How about I take over the manor for a little bit while you take a break? You deserve it. See you love!

Not long after reading the note the poor guy had to excuse himself due to the tears overflowing his eyes, it has been hard for him to handle his past, so hearing those words of encouragement might have just given him the small push he needed to start moving forward. Hopefully we'll be seeing a new side of him further in the future. 😊

Frollo greatly appreciates your kind gesture as well as the lovely gifts @faceless-creature, they will be deeply cherished by him for days to come. He'll definitely be needing that day off though, this guy needs a long break from the drama within the mansion so you'll definitely be one speed dial, just keep in mind that magic doesn't work here so you might need to come with some form of back up to handle Turbo & his shenanigans. 😄

[bunbeeplays]

The adults are in the backyard chatting.

Paisley: Trent and I are both thinking we want to go to Foxbury. We're going on a tour in a couple of days.

Ophelia: Wow, going to college with your stepmother. Every stepson's dream.

Paisley laughs.

Paisley: Trent was all for it!

Paisley: Thanks for giving Trent those lessons. He really seems to like and trust me now.

Ophelia: Hey, don't thank me. You've done a lot for those kids. I can tell they adore you.

Paisley: Juan putting in more effort has helped. I… really feel like part of the family now.

Well, at least there's other fuzzy friends to talk to on the ranch.

Gemma still wishes she could ride Dahlia, but Claudia's taken her Watcher knows where.

Paisley comes to check on the kids.

Gemma: Hi, Miss Paisley!

Paisley: Hi, cutie. Where's Clauds?

Gemma: She's riding Dahlia around. She's so lucky, I wish I could ride her.

This catches Paisley's attention.

Paisley: Oh. Claudia hasn't given you a turn?

That's so funny, considering Paisley explicitly told Claudia that she would like her to let Gemma have the first ride of the day.

Looks like they'll need to have a little chat.

Claudia trots back toward the stable and her tummy sinks a little when she sees Gemma talking to Paisley, who's most definitely going to figure out Gemma hasn't had a turn yet.

Paisley: Claudia, can you come over here please?

Claudia: Coming!

She struggles a bit to dismount.

Gemma wanders off to chat to the others, allowing Paisley some privacy to talk to her stepdaughter.

Paisley: Remember what I said this morning about giving Gemma the first ride, since you get to ride Dahlia all the time?

Claudia: I thought maybe she needed a demonstration.

Paisley: Claudia, you're very lucky to have a papi that has the space for a horse and the money to hire someone to tend to her. Not everyone's parents can afford that.

Claudia: Uh, isn't Gemma's mom a pop star?

Paisley: Yes, but your papi is, like, 500 motherlodes rich.

Paisley: Sweetie, part of being a good friend is sharing. Gemma shares her toys when we go to her house. You can let Gemma ride Dahlia for a bit. It would mean a whole lot to her.

Claudia contemplates. Gemma's less annoying than the kids at SanMy Prep. Guess she can trust her.

Claudia: Yeah, Gemma's cool. She can ride Dahlia. She won't get poor people germs on her.

Paisley: …We need to work on on that classism, but thank you, Claudie.

When she married Juan, she never thought she'd be doing any actual parenting, but it's actually so rewarding.

When Claudia tells her the good news, Gemma sprints back to the stable. She's finally going to ride a horse!

Mounting is a lot harder than she thought, but thankfully Dahlia is a very patient gal.

Success!

Gemma grabs the reins and guides her, like she's seen the kids on the Pony Up Channel do a million times before, and takes her out for her first ride.

Ophelia watches on the sidelines. She quietly laughs at Gemma's expression. Despite her nerves, she's loving it.

Ophelia: Stay on the trail, and don't wander off too far!

Gemma: I won't, Mom!

Ophelia watches her little girl trot off. Seeing Gemma finally ride a horse, just like she's wanted since she was a tot, is amazing. She wishes she could give Gemma her own horse. Maybe someday…

Gemma leads Dahlia along, enjoying the chill of the spring air, the sound of Dahlia's horseshoes trotting on the wooden bridge, the heightened beating of her heart.

Dahlia's not going too fast, but Gemma, in her eight or so years of life, has never felt so free.

Dahlia picks up the pace on the way back, and Gemma, despite her nerves, loves the thrill that comes with horse riding. Maybe someday she can convince her parents to get her a horse of her own, because now that she knows how exciting it is, she's gonna need to do this more often!

[randomnameless]

@kyogre-blue

I finally watched the paralogue about Lorenz's dad and I correct myself

The plan was not to ask mercenaries to dice merchants coming from Riegan, because uwu poor mercs couldn't stomach killing poor, unarmed merchants :'(

So instead they set wild beasts on their way :')

Obviously it's way more safe for those merchants, to rely on a wild beast's instinct of not slaughtering them all but only to frighten them than for mercs to, just, beat up those merchants without killing them.

100/100 foolproof plan !

But...

Claude's uncle, that imbecile, instead of running away, tried to fight against the beasts to protect the merchants, and died, just like said merchants afterwards.

People wonder if this stupid order was sent by Gloucester Sr.

It wasn't lord Gloucester who ordered those mercs turned bandits to proceed, but another unnamed member of the House.

Which is funny, because much like Naruto, you never meet members of various Houses/Clans save for the heir and maybe the current Leader, but suddenly other members of the family exist to make sure the named characters aren't BaD.

They warped Agarthan style ?

Sad uwus for those poor mercs, they only set up defenseless people to be eaten by wild beasts, but they were really upset when their employer betrayed them :'(

Tfw you can't enjoy an "ancient Adrestian spectacle" anymore :(

Morale of this story :

An unnamed guy ordered mercs to set loose beasts on defenseless people "only to scare them uwu", Claude's uncle BaD because he didn't wanted to run away and wished to protect the merchants so he fought and everyone died.

But it's not those poor mercs's fault :'(

They were betrayed by their employer :'(

Because they thought Erwin asked them to set those beasts loose, and when people died he turned against them for, uh, having fucking killed people-but it wasn't them it was those beasts, and the order was to scare them, and anyways it wasn't their fault they were supposed to run but stupid Godfrey wanted to protect his people :/

And ultimately the blame doesn't lay on those poor mercs who only "listened to orders" as people were brutally killed, but on the unnamed Gloucester member who gave that order that is totally not Lorenz's dad.

[silvcrignis]

Claude Frollo Out of Context Sentence Starters || Part I/?

I have a divine mission to spread the Our Claude > Canon Frollo propaganda. What better way to do so than by making various quotes of his a sentence meme?

Clowning

 “What the FUCK is Bible Study & Chill?!”

 “Do you lot think the Booberry ghost is blue because he died by strangulation???

“I was absolutely high as shit last night. The Warwick Davis leprechaun himself could have started playing knick knack on my lung & I likely would not have noticed.”

 “HOW MANY OF YOU FUCKERS SAW ME EVERYDAY & KNEW I WAS GAY & DID NOT FUCKING SAY ANYTHING?!”

 “MA’M/SIR THAT IS FOUR MILLION DOLLAR MERCHANDISE DO NOT BREAK WHAT YOU CANNOT BUY!” 

 “...Why do you smell like Nesquik Strawberry Milk?” 

“The asshole you are trying to reach is not available. Please disconnect the call & do not try again.”

“Also the day you catch me living in a shack is the day to lock me up because that would mean I finally went clinical, pal."

“Quit talking about shoving things in my ass, you perverted old man/woman!” 

 “Well. You are BORING me right now. I cannot relate to your poor person problems.”

“If I could physically meet myself I would beat the shit out of him.” 

“…I am not sweet, __. Slander me again & I will take legal action.” 

“Her vagina could probably host a fucking bounce house for all of them.”

“Na fam. Delete it right now.”

“Nearly every single time you speak you bring this family great dishonour.”

 “There is only so much suffering I can endure.”

 “I FOUND A CAT!

 “You would end up being spilt worse than my firewood.

“You cannot do coke, that is illegal!

 “Down to fucking kill myself.”

 “If you are so insistent on sucking my cock this often you ought get some knee pads.”

“I like snow. It is a good way to hit your enemies with glass shards before they realise what is happening.”

 “Do you want bullshit or the truth?”

 “I am seconds away from a brain aneurysm, son.”

 “You would be a wonderful addition to someone’s mantle. In an urn!”

 “Shut the fuck up, old man!”

 “I do not use Faebook. Faebook is for losers & old people.”

 *sarcastically* “I went out to the woods. Pretended to be a forest nymph for a few hours.”

“That is… Not my problem.”

 “Did the vibrating make it better or worse, son?”

“New Jersey’s state fruit is blueberry, you fucking crackhead.”

“No no. Continue squabbling, bottoms.”

“Like what the fuck like I can say hoe if I want to! I am a hoe, I have the pass!” 

“I want no part in your cockles, __.”

“That is too many babies, Miss/Mister.”

“Ugh no.”

“Pull up then, Fuckboy.”

“Actually I was thinking about that one medieval meme about the leggings.” 

“You cannot cancel me. I am a bad bitch.” 

Being Fucking For Real

“… Unless… Oh fuck… I must be having another psychotic break.

“Would not be the first goddamn time I had a hallucination…”

“Those were the last words I ever said to my own son’s face… Then I never saw him again.”

“... Tell me you love me again? Please?”

“What the hell was I supposed to say to you that would not sound fucking weird & desperate?”

“You know, wills to read & a little brother to parent…”

“… It was always you but… You deserve someone normal.”

“I will be perfectly fine alone, the way I always am.”

*wryly* “Ah yes, because everyone keeps their promises, __.”

“I am going to beat his ass. The next time. I see him.”

“God, I know I do not deserve it but I love you so fucking much.”

[iron-roots]

8. Shed

"Anselme!" Came a shout that set chocobos to warbling and fussing, followed by heavy footsteps of someone running to catch up along hard-packed dirt between the stalls of the stables. "Err, m'lord. Do you have a moment?"

"Just Anselme is fine, truly. Of course, is something amiss?" He asked hesitantly, slowing to a stop and turning to look at the stableboy, Claude, trotting after him. The chocobo he was leading out for an afternoon ride sidestepped worriedly before recognizing the approaching hyur. It pulled hard at the reins then, slipping them clean out of Anselme's hands to return to its favorite keeper.

"No, nothing! I assure you. I simply wished to show you something. Out by the shed." Claude explained, neatly catching the bird's bridle and giving it a light pat on the beak as he caught his breath.

Immediately Anselme's heart leapt to his throat. He had heard stories from his cousins about the stableboy at the country estate. Lazy summer afternoons by the river or the woods, a bit of this and that. First kisses and more. He suspected much of it to be hyperbole; his cousins attempting to one-up each other with tales of trysts but still his ears immediately pinkened.

"O-of course. Lead the way." Anselme agreed without hesitation, following along behind the hyur. The lad was two turns older yet a few ilms shorter… as the elezen was well in the midst of the most awkward stages of growing where his limbs seemed to be in a race for which could grow out the fastest before the rest of him could catch up.

They paused at the end of the walkway, Claude checking to ensure they were unobserved before gesturing for Anselme to follow after and by the time they had emerged into the warm Coerthan afternoon the elezen's cheeks burned as though he'd been out in the sun all day. Together they slunk along the side of the stable towards the shed. As they approached Anselme would have sworn his heart was beating loud enough for the other to hear. What if he should kiss him? What if he should dislike it? Or more concerning; what if he should like it? Would it progress to… this and that? What did that even mean… his cousins wouldn't tell him no matter how he'd pled or threatened. Claiming it to be their secret.

He nearly crashed into Claude when the hyur stopped and raised a finger to his own lips to encourage Anselme to be quiet. He pointed to a large gap between two of the old shed's boards. Just wide enough to peer through. The would-be-knight bravely pressed his face to the weathered wood to see, hearing a strange sound from within.

There, in the half-dark of a shed with a roof so poor it let in thick bands of sunlight, sat his baby brother. Dressed in summer whites, his shorts and socks smudged with mud and grass. Just old enough to be out playing on his own unattended… the child had managed to find a small litter of kittens. Three of them. A grey and white tabby, an orange with white paws and a pure black kitten. He was attempting to spoon-feed the orange a slice of cake and cream though the kitten was far more interested in batting the summer berries off of the spoon for its siblings to chase after. The lot of them mewling shrilly and flapping tiny bat-like wings. Oh hells… they weren't just stable cats.

Anselme leaned away to find Claude smiling at him in a manner that could only be called conspiratorial. He beckoned for the elezen to follow, sneaking away to the shade of a nearby tree before deeming it was far enough to speak freely.

"Gaelikittens." The stableboy laughed. "I didn't think they came this far into Coerthas. No idea where he found 'em but he seems keen on keeping 'em. Figured I'd tell you, they're dangerous when they're grown so the adults are gonna want them gone. But I don't think there's any harm in letting him keep 'em till you head back to Ishgard, is there?"

Anselme smiled and shook his head, his face still red though his pulse had steadied. "No, I do not think there is any harm at all. Unless he continues to try and feed them on cake alone. I will bring something more suitable from the House once he has gone. Would you mind ensuring they have enough water and warmth? Without letting him know we are helping…"

Claude returned the smile, reaching out to grasp the elezen's hand between his own. "It'll be our secret, Anselme." He promised, giving the captured hand a firm shake.

Later that evening, while sneaking fare better suited for growing kittens from the kitchen, Anselme couldn't help but be pleased. Now he had his own secret with Claude. And surely it was far, far better than whatever his cousins had.

[azikarue]

MayBlade 2023 : Day 9 : Ice Cream

Max-centric | FFN Rating: K | FFN Link ❖ “Wait, what’s the Italian word for gelato, then?”

“Michael, gelato is an Italian word,” Emily groaned, looking at him like she couldn’t believe anybody could be so stupid. “What’s wrong with you?”

Eddy burst into laughter, causing several pedestrians to turn and stare. If one or two of them snapped a picture, he didn’t notice, too busy slapping Michael on the back as his teammate sputtered out a defense for himself.

Emily noticed and disguised her disapproval as an eye roll in Michael’s direction.

“Shut up, Eddy! Gelato’s a word back home, too.”

“Yeah,” Eddy said, laughing so hard there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes, “for Italian ice cream.”

“Idiot,” Emily added.

Max kind of wished he was sitting at their table, instead of a little ways down the sidewalk with his mom and Rick.

He glanced at the latter, eating his gelato without a care while another camera flashed in the distance. Max could see the headlines about the All Starz eating ice cream while poor Claude iced his injury now.

He sighed and seconds later the flutter of magazine pages signified his mother had noticed.

“What is it, Maxie?” she asked, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. Her eyes scanned his face, then landed on his unfinished bowl of gelato. “Are you feeling all right?”

“He’s probably just missing his old Bladebreaker buddies,” Rick interjected brusquely. He didn’t even bother to look up from his cone, and that ruffled Max’s feathers almost as much as his words did. “Although Tyson’s last match was a trainwreck, so he should be glad he jumped ship when he did.”

Any thoughts Max had about grinning and bearing it went out the window with that last sentence.

“Don’t talk about Tyson like that!”

“What?” Rick snapped, finally locking his challenging gaze on Max. “It’s the truth. If you can’t handle it, that’s your problem.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Rick?” Max met his gaze with a glare of his own. He wasn’t in the mood for Rick’s attitude and he wouldn’t tolerate a word against any of his friends. “Tyson’s a great beyblader. The fact that he lost a match, especially to an opponent as strong as Ray, doesn’t change that.”

“You’re just telling yourself that so you quit feeling like a loser for riding his coattails through the last two tournaments.” The look on Rick’s face proved he knew how much that would sting. And he still twisted the knife in more when he said, “Just count yourself lucky you blade with me now. If you’re a good little boy and win your battle against F-Dynasty, maybe I’ll even remind the press that you’re World Champion, too, when we take home the title. That’s more than your pal Tyson ever did for you.”

Max’s chair scraped against the concrete when he leapt to his feet. He could feel the rest of the All Starz watching curiously from the other table, no longer engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Rick was smirking at him, silently daring him to retaliate. He balled his hands into fists.

“Max,” Judy warned gently, before redirecting her attention to Rick. “That was uncalled for.”

Rick shrugged and ate half his cone in one bite.

Max’s heart was beating too fast to sit back down and eat like nothing had happened. He pushed his chair in and turned to leave.

“Maxie—”

“I’m fine, Mom,” he answered, before she could even ask. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He left without waiting for her response, bobbing and weaving through groups of tourists to get as far away as possible. He remembered enough of Rome from the last time he and his friends were here to trust that he’d find his way back to the hotel when he needed to, so he didn’t bother paying attention to where he was going. Instead, he let himself get lost in the crowd and his thoughts.

Sometimes Max felt bad that he and Rick didn’t get along better. After all, the rest of the All Starz hated the fact that they’d come along to take the main two slots on the roster and weren’t shy about showing it. His mom thought they’d get over it eventually. She’d probably maintain that view unless something drastic happened, like Emily suddenly refusing to talk strategy with her.

Max suspected otherwise and had secretly hoped that he and Rick could come to an understanding, maybe even bond over their role as outsiders. Anything else would make for an agonizingly long tournament.

They weren’t off to a good start.

Rick knew how to push Max’s buttons from the moment they met and seemed to make it his personal goal to wipe the smile off of his face by any means necessary. The comments about Tyson were some of his lowest blows yet. Mostly because there was some truth to them.

Max would never admit it to anyone – though he’d danced around the subject with Ray, who he knew felt similarly – but all of the press surrounding Tyson and his two Championship wins got to him sometimes.

Tyson was one of his best friends. When they met, Max was new in town and hadn’t had close friends his own age since he’d moved to Japan. Tyson welcomed him into his circle with open arms, and soon they were traveling the world with a team that felt more and more like a family with each hurdle they overcame together.

They were young when they won the World Championships the first time. Too young to be concerned with what questions the press would ask them or how some fans might prefer one of them over the other. It was all about having fun and helping each other improve. The trophy and title weren’t as important as the fact that they earned it together.

When they were forced to split into two groups the following year, they were up to their necks in opponents trying to steal their bitbeasts. It was enough to make them feel like they were still in it as a team, until the dust settled and everyone started talking about how Tyson had single-handedly defeated one of the most ferocious bitbeasts of all time to claim his second title.

Suddenly, things began to feel different.

Max remembered seeing it on Ray and Kai’s faces, too. The thinly-veiled hurt as Tyson got all the attention for something they’d felt like they were working towards as a team.

None of them ever talked about it and they probably would have continued to sweep it under the rug if the BBA hadn’t announced a pairs format again.

The discussions of who would team up with Tyson to win his third consecutive World Championship victory – an unprecedented feat – were everywhere. Even Tyson joined in the speculation.

Part of Max would have loved nothing more than to battle by his side again. The BBA was even allowing alternates on the teams. With some imagination, it could feel like old times; the four of them taking on the world together. But there wasn’t enough imagination in the world to drown out the fact that he, Ray, and Kai were only considered good enough if they were by Tyson’s side.

Max could sense the moment when they all came to the same conclusion. He felt guilty.

Then his mom mailed him a plane ticket and he felt even guiltier.

Sometimes, he still felt guilty.

“Max?”

Max started. He’d wandered, without noticing, to the Trevi fountain. There were so many people in any direction he looked, that it took him a minute to find the person who’d called out to him.

“Ray!”

He navigated the crowd as quickly and carefully as he could to meet Ray at the bottom of the stairs. Then, as if they’d discussed it, they gravitated to a private corner where they had less of a chance of being spotted, and sat on the edge of the fountain. With a cool mist on his back and a friend by his side, Max’s spirits were lifting already.

“It’s good to see you, Max.” Ray was sitting sideways on the fountain so he could face Max and keep his hair from dragging in the water.

“You, too!” Max answered with a grin. Ex-teammates or not, Ray’s company was way better than Rick’s. “How have things been?”

He realized it was a loaded question when a shadow fell across Ray’s face.

“It’s been good.” There was some hesitation in his voice that Max was going to ignore, until he added, “Different than I thought.” He caught Max’s eyes and an understanding passed between them. There wasn’t any need for elaboration. Max would feel the same way in his place.

“Tyson wasn’t at the top of his game,” he said, almost apologetically.

“Not at all.” Ray’s voice was colored with obvious disappointment.

They paused to watch a cluster of teenagers take turns throwing coins back, over their heads, into the fountain. Max remembered doing the same thing when they visited Rome the first time. Tyson, fresh off of a win against Enrique, had joked that anyone who didn’t wish to win the World Championships would be off the team and they’d all laughed.

“That was bad luck about Claude,” Ray said, changing the subject. “I was surprised your home crowd was so quick to switch sides.”

Max sighed. “I wasn’t. Not with Rick’s attitude.” Not to mention that most of the polls his mom kept tucked in her briefcase showed that Michael was still the fan-favorite on their team. Rick’s popularity had already started to drop when he beat him; it had to be at rock bottom now.

“Rick seems like a tough person to have as a partner,” Ray observed. “What do the other All Starz think of him?”

“They like him even less than they like me, which is saying something. You’d think it would be a reason for Rick and I to get along, but he wants nothing to do with me,” Max answered with a shrug. “But it’s okay. I still feel like I made the right decision. It’s just not the start I was picturing.”

Ray nodded sympathetically. “I guess we’re on the same page, then.”

“Yeah. I guess I know why you were out walking all alone,” Max joked, earning a small smile from Ray.

“I needed some time to think,” he said, turning to look out over the water pensively. “Lee keeps saying I should be happy we won, but I never wanted to beat Tyson that way. I wouldn’t care if I lost if it meant I’d battled against the Tyson I remember.”

“I know what you mean. A battle like that against an opponent like Tyson hardly feels like it counts at all.” That wasn’t the type of fight either of them had struck out on their own for. “Do you think Tyson will be okay?”

Ray turned back to Max and raised his eyebrows. “You’re the optimist,” he said, with half a smile. “You tell me.”

Max considered everything he’d learned about Tyson in the few short years they’d been friends before answering, “He’ll be just fine. And I think we’ll both get the battles we’re hoping for in the end.”

Ray took a deep breath and turned his face into the breeze. “Thanks, Max. I think I needed to hear that.”

“Any time. We’re still friends.”

Whatever Ray’s response would have been was overtaken by a distant voice calling, “Oh, Ray, there you are!”

They both turned to see Mariah in the distance waving her arm above her head. The rest of the White Tigers were with her and the crowd was beginning to take notice. It was obvious which people were beyblade fans by how many heads turned to see who Mariah was waving to and then immediately began whispering and pointing. Their private corner was no longer private and the conversation would have to be over.

“I’d better get going.” Ray stood up and ignored the collective gasp that ran through the crowd when he turned to face Max. “It was good to see you, Max. Good luck in the next round. And with Rick – if anyone can get through to him, you can.”

“Thanks Ray, good luck to you, too.” Max stood up. He could hear several people wondering where his teammates were, and a few mentions of Rick with obvious distaste. “Say hi to the White Tigers for me.”

“I will. See you around.”

He watched as Ray cut a path through the crowd before turning and doing the same in the opposite direction. He wasn’t looking forward to another evening spent training with Rick and ignoring the glares from the others, but he felt lighter and ready to make the best of it after his chat with Ray.

On a whim, he changed his path and headed back the way he’d first came. If the All Starz were still there, there was no time like the present to start making peace with Rick. And if they weren’t, at least he could finish his gelato this time.

[indigoipsum]

Any Alois headcanons?

Hehe yes 😼

TW: Light ED discussion

A lot of people have brought this up, but I really do think he’d have a very poor body image/issues with eating. It’s extra complicated because of how food insecure he was when he was younger, and while he wants to indulge in sweets and rich things, he still sees himself as something that exists solely for attractiveness and fears weight gain. I think he also has trouble accepting getting older, as he starts to get taller and broader, because men have consistently been the ones to hurt him and yet he has to accept that he’s becoming one. The whole ordeal is just weird for him.

I think Alois’ trauma complicates his relationship with sexuality and gender. He’s just a kid so like… I can’t say he’s 100% anything but it’s kinda widely accepted he’s mlm. In my modern AU rp I had eons ago I figured he’d probably use they/he pronouns and experiment with wearing dresses and skirts (which he should be able to regardless of gender! I just see him being able to embrace his femininity if he lived in a more accepting society)

He and Lizzie would 100% be friends. I think he’d flirt with her to annoy Ciel, but after a while the bit isn’t funny anymore and he just wants to spend time with her. She would help him mellow out a bit and he would encourage her to be more assertive. Lizzie would probably start swearing without realizing and Frances would be like ???!!! We know that he can wield a sword, so I think that he’d enjoy fencing with her (and she’d beat him every time).

He probably enjoys lovecore stuff, like pink and white teacups with delicate hearts around the rim and stationary with little Cupids decorating the margins.

His handwriting used to be very messy, partly because he learned to write later in life and partly because of his racing thoughts and short attention span. However, he got teased about it when he went to hand in letters and official documents so he works with Claude to perfect his penmanship.

He loves gothic horror stories, but also loves romance novels. He’s pretty unashamed of this, even when the covers are a little embarrassing.

He’s not really a cat or a dog person. He prefers birds and insects.

Though he doesn’t want to admit it, he cares about Hannah. He just knows that trying to lash out at Claude is more dangerous. Getting closer to Lizzie probably makes him reflect on his actions more, too.

He prefers strong black tea to other teas. He likes white wine and champagne, though.

He wishes he could have been an actor. Granted, he likes having wealth, but high society bores him and he’s seen time and time again that most nobles are awful people. He drags anyone in the house to go see operas and plays whenever he can. He brought the triplets to a play once and got mad that they kept whispering about it amongst themselves, when he’s the one who should be making comments!

He consistently damages former Earl Trancy’s headstone and waits to see how long the rest of his family takes to notice. Inevitably, his Uncle Arnold notices, calls him, tries to blame it on him, then Alois gives his whole crocodile tears routine and makes Arnold pay for a new one.

Alois doesn’t know his real birthday, but chose Guy Fawkes day as a double excuse to party and cause mischief.

The Trancy family has some German and French heritage, which everyone asks about given his very German sounding first name. He had no idea that it was a German name and just goes along with it. Sieglinde is teaching him German, but he really just wants to know all the curses and rude phrases.

[claudepie]

let me share with tumblr nation. behold. a true event that happened to me this week.

so, i was minding my own beeswax, playing with my cookie(cookie clicker), feelin sexy and chipper. then came a knock at my door.

me: who is it?

i think to myself: who could it possibly be this time. ugh! (there are always solicitors)

i think about my temu package: um maybe it’s that! i scamper towards my door with glee and delight….

then comes to mind… reddit nation yea we are together we can go very far…take down tiktok take down instagram…take down everything we don’t give a damn. nevermind. back to the story.

so anywho, i practically gallop to my front door, excited for what prizes await me. i approach the door, unlocking it and grabbing the knob(oh, lala). i swing open said door and i see…

nothing? no temu package! um… what.

i then frantically look around the general vicinity of my door. um…still no package! what a bummer!

i turn away from the door, making sure to close and lock it before i begin to walk away, just in case my solicitor was a homeless man who wanted to perform a pitch-perfect korean-style dance inside of my home. i walk to my room, my enthusiasm and excitement stripped away from me. i sit my ass down on my chair, examining the number of cookies i have now. 20 trillion?! nice! whoeeah?

i mean, what else can you expect when your bakery is named big chungus big big bi money?

anywho, i spend a few minutes chilling at my computer before i hear a second knock at my door.

me: ugh! really? who could it be this time!?! this pleb better turn himself in before i call the police!

reluctantly, i hop off my chair and make a run downstairs, hopefully catching this dweeb in the act. nobody messes with claude-pie!

as my hand makes its way to the doorknob, a beautiful smile crosses my face.

me: haha, open na noor.

is what i said out loud to myself. i think to myself about how epic and sus my remark was, but there is no time to dwell. i must fulfill my duty. as i continue to open the door, and i…um…WHAT! there is nothing at the door!

i let out a disgruntled sigh and stomp my foot. i slam the door shut and make my way back upstairs. a familar thought comes to mind.

i chuckle at it, not giving it too much mind, i mean, how often do you “open na noor” and there’s a big lump of knobs? that also has the juice?!

i sit back down at my chair, resuming my game. it is a nice couple of minutes, but then after when i hear yet another knock; it is not nice anymore. this time, i decide to not answer the door. this fucker will surely stop after a while, right? RIGHT????????

um…well major plot twist!! doesn’t happen!! just keeps knocking like a champ! i consider marching my way downstairs and giving this sucker a piece of my mind, but i figured that i could just block out the noise with some music. i put my earbuds in my ears and turned on my favorite song: ice safety by extraordinary rapper lilgomezz. as i was jamming out, you wouldn’t guess what i hear.

nononononononoNO!!!!!!!! it’s not knocking. i already drowned that out. it’s my FUCKING DOORBELL!!!!!!!! UM! who uses those anyway!

i turn up my niche, underground music and sigh, louder than ever. i manage to hold myself back from checking the door. many hours pass where i hear not a peep, but that is because of these sick ass beats being pumped into my ears(like your english teacher on a friday night?). yuh huh!!

soon: day becomes night, and the sun sets. and i think to myself: that pleb shouldn’t be at the door now!

so i decide to go have dinner. i make my way downstairs again, more careful this time. maybe this guy is sleeping on my porch? maybe he’s waiting for any semblance of noise. maybe that’s his cue to start assaulting my poor front door.

i manage to receive my dinner, and my stomach grumbles at the thought of it as of writing. damn you!

for the ones who were curious: my meal consists of corn, a huuuuuuuuge glizzy, and a grimace shake! oh lala!! i absolutely devour said meal, licking my fingers afterwards. the flavors are melting on my tongue!

suddenly, welcome to the black parade comes on. i unfortunately, was completely alone when this came on. and yes, there is still music blasting into my ears at this point. this is like simon says. no, this IS simon says. simon didn’t say simon says.

i couldn’t help but hold my breath at the G note at the beginning of the song, tearing up as the song went along. by the end, i was full on ugly sobbing on the floor, having forgotten about the fulfilling meal i had prior to this. suddenly, i hear a BANG, shocking me to my senses.

…what could be happening at my door at this hour?

i wipe the tears from my face and begin to stand.

me: sweet jegus, i swear if it’s that geek again! ill give that twink a piece of my mind!

i make a mad dash to the door, fumbling with the lock and the knob. i manage to wildly swing the damn thing open, and and and and AND AND AND AND!!!!!!!!

[alleiradayne]

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

Castiel was dead. Again. And it was all Dean's fault.

After failing to drink himself into an early grave, Dean finds a little resolve to pick himself back up and do the right thing: save people. With Sam and Jack by his side, and a little help from a few other survivors, they take on Chuck, restore the world, the multiverse, and everything's back to the way it oughta be.

Everything but Castiel, that is.

Dean clings to a death wish five miles wide after that. And he gets that wish, dying on a hunt. But the worst is yet to come when he wakes up and finds himself in the Empty. And he's not alone.

Chapter 5

Summary: Dean finds a little resolve and trades the booze for bacon Warnings/Tags: Hangover, alcohol, little bit o' trauma Characters/Pairings: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Jack Word Count: 1977

He deserved it. Dean groaned as he awoke from his bender. The pounding migraine hammered behind his eyes, rang in his ears. And his stomach rolled as though it flipped end over end. Apparently, he’d failed to drink himself into an early grave. Not that that was a bad thing. Yeah, shit sucked at that particular moment. A hangover of a lifetime. Chuck Thanosing his friends. Billie trying to kill them. His best friend sacrificing himself to save him.

I love you.

Best friend?

I love you, too, Cas.

Whatever.

Yes, everything sucked ass. But the pain and the hunger meant he was alive. And son of a bitch, he was glad. He’d felt sorry for himself long enough. Had given himself the space to be a whiny little bitch, cry it out, drown his stupid sorrows. It was well past time to suck it up and soldier on.

As if on cue, a beautifully familiar scent filled his nose, and he sucked in a full breath. He rolled onto his back towards the door, then cried out as a sharp poke jabbed into the back of his head. When he reached for his pillow, Dean felt tiny shards of glass. He bolted upright, the room pitching sickeningly in the darkness, and he gripped the edge of his bed. That grasp steadied him like an anchor in a turbulent sea, and Dean climbed out. He shuffled across his room, reaching in the darkness until he connected with the wall near his door, then searched for the switch.

Light bloomed from the ceiling, and Dean spotted hundreds of glistening glass shards scattered across the head of his bed, his pillow. What the fuck happened last night? He returned to his bed and flipped the pillow, scattering glass everywhere. But there was nothing beneath it. Nothing besides his Colt, that was. He followed the trail of glass back to his bedside table where he found his lamp, the shade crumpled, the base bent at a perfect right angle, and the bulb shattered.

Apparently, Jean Claude Van Damme had helicopter kicked the shit out of his lamp.

What the absolute fuck?

Nope. Dean shook his head in a piss-poor attempt to clear it, only managing to spin the room harder. He turned for his door and shuffled towards it, grasping the bedside table, the dresser, the sink as he struggled. When he wrenched the door aside, that wonderful, amazing, revitalizing aroma he had detected a moment ealier washed over him.

Bacon.

He’d bless the person cooking if it weren’t for Chuck’s assholery. It was probably Sam. Instead of wondering any longer, Dean gathered up whatever stability his hangover would allow him, and he stumbled to the kitchen. The pale hallway lights blinded him, and the Bunker’s churning vitality rang as loud as a gong between his ears. Christ, why did everything have to be so damned loud and bright? There should be rules about that sort of thing. Can’t even drink himself into forgetting his best friend’s death without suffering the consequences the next day.

I love you.

Best friend?

I love you, too, Cas.

For a beat, Dean froze, then pushed the memory aside. Didn’t make much sense anyway. At least, not with that monster of a hangover he was nursing. He could hardly remember anything from last night. Which was the whole point. So he shuffled into the kitchen, ready to stuff a pound of bacon down his gullet, get a little hair of the dog in him through an entire pot of coffee, and figure this whole shitshow out.

“Morning…”

Sam stood at the stove, flipping the last pieces of bacon onto a plate already piled high with meat. Then he twisted the knob, shutting off the burner, and grabbed up another plate with eggs and toast. That would have to be motivation enough for now. Dean crossed the kitchen and slumped onto the seat at the end of the table. 

Sam turned with both plates in hand, then hesitated. “Look, I’m not about to assume how you feel, but…” He set the plates down and seated himself. “We’re all in a bad way right now. Eileen isn’t…”

Ouch. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten. But his best friend had just died. Saving him, no less.

I love you.

Best friend?

I love you, too, Cas.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said, ignoring his brain. “Look, I can’t do it like you do. I’m not the chipper, exuberant, bright-side-of-life type. You keep finding the positives. I just put my head down and find the next case.”

“No, it’s not that,” Sam said as he poured them each a cup of coffee. He slid Dean’s mug across the table and Dean eyed it. He considered a nearby liquor bottle, reached for it, then hesitated as last night’s choices suddenly assaulted him. Something about surviving the bender, about the decision to go to the archives, the words he had managed to find there—not to mention discovering his obliterated bedside lamp this morning—inspired him. In a weird way.

A clean sip from his coffee scalded his tongue, and he welcomed the pain, that sweet, sweet reminder of his existence.

“I know everything is… completely fucked up,” Sam continued. “I’m not going to do that positivity crap. But I didn’t tell you this last night because of what you’d just been through. It’s not just Eileen and Donna and the apocalypse-world hunters that disappeared. It’s everyone.”

A break. He just needed one damn break. “What do you mean, everyone? Like the whole fucking planet?!”

“Everyone between here and Hastings, at least,” Sam said. “It looked like an actual apocalypse on the way back. Abandoned cars all along the highway, most of them wrecked but no bodies. It was… horrifying.”

He’d kill him. If it was the last thing he ever did, Dean vowed then and there to kill Chuck. “Alright, I get it. So what’s next? If we’re the only ones left, then what?”

Something a little helpless about Sam’s shrug irritated Dean. “I have no idea what to do. I was up all night trying to figure shit out and… I got nothing. I can’t open Billie’s book on Chuck, Jack’s got no power left at all. I keep forgetting that everyone’s just gone and tried calling people but all I ever get is a busy signal—”

“Stop,” Dean choked through his next swig of molten-hot coffee. “Spiraling like that is the last thing we need.”

 Another one of those helpless shrugs hitched Sam’s shoulders. “What the hell else am I supposed to do?” he spat. “There’s us, Jack, and Chuck. That’s it.”

Dean shoveled a pile of bacon onto his plate, then slid as many eggs as he could fit beside it. “What are you saying?” he asked as he chomped on a piece of meat.

“I don’t know,” Sam said. “If it’s just the three of us, what’s stopping him from finishing it?”

He hated to admit it, but Sam was right. “Let’s… eat breakfast. Like normal. And then we can… put our heads together and figure out what to do next. Empty stomachs are useless.”

A third half-hearted shrug twitched Sam’s shoulders. “Sure,” he started. “Better than nothing.”

“What’s better than nothing?”

Dean twisted over his shoulder as Jack shuffled into the kitchen from the side door. “Breakfast. Come eat. I know you don’t—”

As Jack passed the planter shelf, Dean’s words trailed to nothing. Every herb and plant Sam and Eileen had so carefully cultivated over the last year wilted in a blink. “I am hungry, actually…” Jack began as he seated himself beside Sam. “Even for…”

Sam took a bite of an uncharacteristically greasy egg and bacon sandwich. “It’s good for hangovers.”

Wait, he was hungover, too?

“What’s a hangover?”

Screw Chuck with a pineapple backwards for robbing them all of the innocence of that moment. “You’ll learn someday,” Dean started, his attention drawn back to the wilted plants. “You good?”

Jack picked a bacon strip from the plate and nibbled the end. “I think so.”

Sam finished the last bite of his sandwich. “If you need time to rest, you can. Don’t feel obligated—”

“I’m fine, Sam,” Jack stated. “All things considered, it could be worse. I’m here, like you said.” He continued to eat his piece of bacon. “So what’s better than nothing?”

Dean let another casual glance at the wilted plants slip past Jack. Then he focused on Sam, who he found sneaking a look at the plants as well. “A plan,” Dean stated. It had to mean something. And if Sam was honing in on it, too, that was enough for him. “Sounds like we’re the only three left.”

“Only three what?” Jack asked.

“People,” Sam replied as his eyes flicked to Jack. “We saw all those abandoned cars on the way back from Hastings, right? I think it’s safe to say that it’s just us. Me, you, and Dean.” He paused a beat, then added, “And Chuck, I suppose.”

The last of his eggs piled up on a piece of toast with his fork and Dean shoved it in his mouth. “Yeah,” he managed through his food. They waited for him to chew, to wash it down with the dredges of his coffee that Sam then refilled. “So we need to think of what to do next.”

The bacon Jack had been nursing disappeared in a blink, shoved into his mouth. “You could just surrender.”

Dean shot a glance at Sam, then returned to Jack. “You know I’m not about to give in to that rat bastard.” A silent beat passed before he added, “No offense.”

“My grandfather is… what do you call it? A son of a bi—”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s a piece of work,” Dean interrupted. “What would surrendering accomplish?”

Jack’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that what he wants? What all this is about? He’s bored so he wants to end the world. Why leave the two of you? It’s not like he can’t just… ” He snapped his fingers. “Like everyone else.”

Well, shit. The kid had a point. Dean met the sturgeon’s frown on Sam’s face. “He’s not wrong.”

“You think he’d take that offer?” Sam asked.

Dean looked at the wilted plants again and Sam followed. “Maybe. At this point, what’s the harm in trying?”

Sam polished off a rogue piece of bacon that had escaped his sandwich, then wiped his hands clean. “None, I suppose. Wheels up in thirty?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice trailing away. “I gotta get a shower in, meet you in the garage.”

Sam had nearly cleared the threshold when he skidded to a halt. “You sure you’re good, man? I know—”

“I’m fine.” No way in hell he would rehash that night in the archives ever again. To anyone. “I know I don’t look it, but I am. And I’ll be right as rain as soon as we get things back to the way they were.”

Though Sam said nothing, his terse smile and shaking head spoke volumes. Then he nodded and, tapping the door frame, headed down the hall out of sight.

Dean sighed a long sigh through his nose. They just needed a break. And if surrendering to Chuck was what it took, then he’d do it.

Jack sat across from him then, eyeing the remaining food on the table. 

“Here, kid, eat some eggs, they’re good for you.” Dean shoveled a pile of eggs onto a plate. Jack took it, grabbed a fork and a pile of toast, then proceeded to inhale every bite. He caught Dean staring, eventually, when his plate was clean. A bit of egg dangled from the corner of his mouth, and Dean handed him a napkin.

If surrendering to Chuck brought Castiel back, he’d do it. For Jack, he thought.

He knew it was a lie.

This series is complete! Reblogs are loved and feedback is welcome!

In Through The Out Door | Art Master Post

[msfbgraves]

Tagged by @puella-peanut

Favorite colour: red. Red. Red! Did I mention red. And dark blue. Also red. And colours that create light and space. But red.

Last song I've listened to: I've spent my whole summer talking for hours, which is murderous on your voice so I may have been avoiding music that made me want to sing. But I do have music that gets randomly assigned to WIP's in my brain. And one of those was Golden Brown, doesn't matter the version. I mean technically I was listening to Dutch-Congolese singer Claude, who very artfully mixes Dutch and French, but that was because of the new season of Beste Zangers. Every season has that one song they do that hits like a thunderbolt. Last season was Duncan Lawrence's rendition of Cole Porter's So In Love, the one before that was Karsu's Turkish version of Lara Fabian's Je Suis Malade, then there was Henk Poort with The Sound of Silence, but I still have a cough and I am stalling on this one. Honourable mention for Alides Hidding's Sien Vrouw Moest 's Weten, but that's Dutch dialect so good luck there.

Reading: Nothing I'd especially recommend. Rereading Krabat and the Sorcerer's Mill. They keep renaming and re-releasing it in English. If you want European fantasy that is medieval in a way you do not know in the Anglocentric world, do yourself a favour and read this. There's no titles, no court, no dragons, no Strong Female Characters TM - just a poor fourteen year old becoming an apprentice in a mill because it beats starving to death and finding out that magic has a cost. There are strong female characters, but the lead girl is unnamed because names have magic and the dark master can never learn hers. Her strength is of character and conviction and bravery, not unlike Mina Harker. (Krabat has to grow into goodness a little more than Jonathan Harker, but he's younger. The Jonathan figure in this book is called Tonda.) There is straight up, very practical Christianity if there is little mention of worship; there is no substitute made up Faith. Holy days are magic, but not of the flashy kind. It's different. It's not English or French or adjacent. It's Slavic and profound and spooky, so a perfect Halloween/Thanksgiving read.

Craving: the secret knowledge of making the perfect juicy sweet and sour chicken or pork stir fry. Other than that, I've had my hot chocolate so I'm good, thanks!

P.S.: @senka-mesecine - has Krabat travelled to Serbia from Germany/Poland? I feel you might understand the atmosphere in the story...

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched this week (#184):

A good woman is hard to find is a suspenseful Irish revenge-thriller. A beautiful, widowed mother of two small kids is struggling with the recent murder of her husband. Her transformation from a down-trotted, submissive woman into a fierce protector of her children is dark and emotionally-rewarding. 7/10.

🍿

4 more with 💯 score on Rotten Tomatoes:

🍿 "Oh, fuck!..." said the groom when he unveiled the scarf from his new wife's head, to discover that it's another woman.

Laapataa Ladies is a gentle Hindi drama about 2 newly-wed brides who get mixed up on a busy Indian train, who end up with the wrong grooms. It's nice to watch a warm-hearted story that takes place in very primitive villages, with simple people, and a Happy End. The strong feminist message is delivered subtly and without fanfare. [*Female Director*]

🍿 The Lavender Hill Mob is a classic Ealing Studio comedy about a bank heist. Alec Guinness is a meek bank clerk who decides to rob his own bank. The best part: At 3:33 Audrey Hepburn makes a 10 second cameo as 'Chiquita'!

Nearly 40 years later, the same director would make 'A fish called Wanda'.

🍿 Concrete Utopia is a new Korean survival thriller about xenophobia which got great reviews, but I didn't like it at all. A grim dystopian parable about life after a massive earthquake which destroyed all of Seoul, except of one apartment building that remained standing. Societal morals break down when life and death are at stake, and they cause everybody to become selfish and cliquish.

🍿 Similarly, the only reason I picked up the Korean thriller The Call is because of its score on 'Rotten Tomatoes'. But the Science Fiction element of time travel through a telephone which was connected to the future was so lame, I got the urge to click it off within 5 minutes. In the end I stayed for 30 minutes, but regretted it.

🍿

3 more by Luis Buñuel + 3 by Jean-Claude Carrière:

🍿 "Please, let your wife stay here for 2 extra minutes. I have to show her the Sursiks..." [But there were no 'Sursiks'...]

I've always loved Buñuel's last 3 films, maybe because they were so easy to watch. The fire and brimstone of his youth were distilled into accessible, vivid tableaux. The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, or "Six friends and the impossible dinner" is just delightful: You nearly feel sorry for these poor 1-procenters, who can't find a decent place to dine in. Their illogical dreams dredge out their childhood traumas, and there's no explanations to anything that happens.

It was the New 4K trailer which brought me back. Re-watch ♻️. Always 10/10.

Surprise Wikipedia gift to myself: After the international success of the movie, Buñuel and his producer traveled to the US in late 1972 to promote the film. While in Los Angeles, Buñuel, Carrière and Silberman were invited to a lunch party at Buñuel's old friend George Cukor, and the other guests included Alfred Hitchcock, Billy Wilder, George Stevens, Rouben Mamoulian, John Ford, William Wyler, Robert Mulligan and Robert Wise. (Resulting in a famous photograph of the directors together, all but an ailing Ford).

🍿 "For health, nothing beats donkey milk!"...

First watch: Los Olvidados ('The young and the damned'), his harsh and depressing Neo-realist Mexican drama from 1950. Hooligans and street urchins live a marginal life damned by poverty and hopelessness. A group of unfortunate juvenile delinquents try, and fail, to survive. (I didn't know that Buñuel studied hypnotism in his youth, but it makes sense).

🍿 My second expressionist silent film by Jean Epstein, my first adaptation of an Edgar Allen Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher (1928). It was written by Buñuel, his second movie after 'Un Chein Andalou', but he left the production after arguing with Epstein. Roger Ebert adored this film, but for me it was too experimental.

🍿 So this is a good time to remember the incredible talents of prolific screenwriter Jean-Claude Carrière. He's credited on IMDb with 158 terrific films, including masterpieces like 'Taking off', 'The tin drum', 'The swimming pool', and even Jonathan Glazer's 'Birth'.

He started his co-operation with Buñuel on 'Diary of a chambermaid', and for 19 years had co-written all of his later movies (with the exception of 'Tristana').

But Carrière was also the co-director of 3 short films, together with Pierre Étaix, 'the French Buster Keaton'. Happy Anniversary is a masterful comedic gem, about a husband hurrying around Paris, buying gifts and flowers for his wife, and trying to make it on time for the special dinner she prepared. It won the 1963 Oscar for 'Best Short Subject'. It's very reminiscent of Jacques Tati, and especially of 'Trafic'. And no wonder: Tati employed young Carrière to write novels based on his films! 9/10.

🍿 In Rapture (1961) Pierre Étaix receives a break-up letter from his girlfriend and tries to write back a response. Pure silence Keaton.

🍿 In the mysterious The nail clippers, Michael Lonsdale and his wife arrive at a luxurious hotel, and while settling in their room,he starts losing things, first his nail clippers, and then everything else.

🍿

Amazing Belgian stop-motion animator Emma De Swaef X 2:

🍿 This Magnificent Cake! is an incredibly bizarre and unique piece of art. First of all, it's told with stop-motion animation using weird creatures made of felt. But the nightmares these disturbing characters share are absurd and very dark. Unexpectedly, it's a scathing indictment of colonialism, especially the Belgian adventures in Africa of the 19th century. Go in cold - You won't regret it. 9/10.

🍿 Her earlier story from 2013, Oh, Willy! was even stranger. The same type wooly characters, but in a nudist colony, dying and re-birthing, flying through space, and ending up breast-fed from a giant, hairy monster. Odd! [*Female Director*]

🍿

2 by Danielle Krudy and Bridget Savage Cole:

🍿 Blow the Man Down is a different type of a dark thriller. Two young sisters in a small fishing town in Maine chop a guy up and struggle to cover it up. It has feminine sensitivities, sea shanties, Margo Martindale as an ambiguous Madame of the local whorehouse, and June Squibb as one of the old ladies who work behind the scenes to keep the town sane. 7/10.

🍿 In their earlier OowieWanna, a 7 year old girl with a birthmark on her arm, is doing the laundry with her uncle. With Karen Black. [*Female Directors*]

🍿

4 more Israeli films:

🍿 White Eye - WOW! I never heard of, and didn't expect anything from this film, and I was shocked at how real and painful it quickly became! A simple heart-wrenching drama [shot in one continuing take] about a guy who finds a white bike that was stolen from him a month earlier. No spoilers: It must be experienced as is. Very Vittorio De Sica inspired. Best film of the week - 10/10!

This film was nominated for the Live short Oscar in 2021, but didn't win. It should have. (By now I've seen 4 of these 5 nominees, and they were all impressive: The Palestinian tragedy 'The present', also about a father and his daughter, 'The letter room' with Oscar Isaac, and the racial time-loop 'Two distant strangers'.)

🍿 Hole in the moon is a seminal Israeli film from 1965. It was the first avant-garde movie made in Hebrew and it ushered "The New Sensitivity", a cinematic movement of personal, artistic visions. Up to then, the Israeli film industry produced only compliant Zionist, nation-building products. But this script-less meandering film itself, a pastiche copy of French New Wave tricks and the worst from J-L Godard, was extremely pretentious, full of disjointed visuals, unconnected shots and indulgent nonsense. 2/10.

The director, Uri Zohar, was acclaimed like the Israeli Andy Warhol, and at the center of the Bohemian lifestyle in Tel-Aviv during the first decades of the state. Sadly, in the 70's he "found religion", turned his back on all liberal concepts, became a real-life ultra-orthodox Rabbi, fathered 7 children, and was entrenched in far-right Judaism up to his last days.

🍿 A Day in Degania (1937) is the first Israeli color film, a delightful documentary about life in Degania. Degania was the first Kibbutz, on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It's a cheerful and innocent piece of early Zionist propaganda, when the term 'Colonists' to describe the farmers and settlers was not used in derogatory manner. It features a group of happy kindergarten kids, all running naked, and jumping into the water for a swim.

🍿 This is Sodom is a Biblical satire a-la-'Life of Brian' about Abraham's deal with a fast-talking God to save Lot and his wife. It was a huge commercial hit in 2010, being a typical low-brow 'Bourekas' movie, but mostly it was a terribly stupid farce. 1/10.

🍿

The Stranger Left No Card is a strange British little horror tale about an eccentric person who arrives in a small town. He is dressed in spats, top hat and old-fashioned clothing, and the townspeople consider him half-wit. My first film by Wendy Toye. This copy was especially crisp. 7/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Frankenweenie (1984) was the 11th and last of Tim Burton shorts before he moved on to feature films with 'Pee-wee's Big Adventure' and 'Beetlejuice' and 'Edward Scissorhands'. It was the original live-action, black & white homage to the old Frankenstein saga, which he later re-made into a stop-motion animation. Strong sense of 'olde-tyme' Pasadena streets of the late 50's, with palm-trees and lovely bungalows, and idealized family trops. 100% small time Disney.

RIP, Shelley Duvall!

(Also, this...)

🍿

"The pellet with the poison is in the vessel with the pestle, the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true, right?"

Finding that clip, I realized that I've never seen any Danny Kaye movies. But Watching The Court Jester is perhaps enough Kaye. This 'Vessel with the pestle' is the best scene in a what is otherwise a lame spoof of the 1950's Faux Medieval Fascination. (They had a popular chain of fake restaurants, 'Medieval Times', where actor-knights would joust and sword-fight before your dinner. Also, Disney popularized the Arthur/Robin Hood concept.)

But the clip is also an obvious copy of Moses Supposes, and the milquetoast Kaye is a parody of Donald O'Connor - for kids. (It even works in German)...

🍿

The Brilliant Biograph, Earliest Moving Images of Europe 1897-1902, is a fascinating compilation of hundreds of newly-restored, small documentary clips from 125 years ago. (Screenshot Above). Before the first automobiles, when you had to use horses and trams, boats and bicycles if you had to move around. 8/10.

🍿

A bunch of shorts:

🍿 A portrait of Ga, my first by experimental Scottish poet Margaret Tait. A simple portrait of her mother. Just lovely. Charlotte Wells said that her 'Aftersun' was inspired by Tait's poetry. [*Female Director*]

🍿 And So We Put Goldfish in the Pool are four middle school Japanese girls who live in a dead-end small town and are afraid they will never be able to leave and live life. Shot in a vibrant, music video style, it captures their young angst as if they shot it themselves. 8/10.

🍿 Yes-People, an Icelandic film that was nominated for the 2021 Best Animated Short. The dialogue consisted of only one word...

🍿 In The Hat an exotic dancer remembers in graphic details how she was sexually-abused as a little girl by a man with a hat. Highly disturbing, it's animated in dark and powerful style. 8/10. [*Female Director*]

🍿 Tom Waits for no one is a creative rotoscoping of his burlesque riff 'The one that got away'. It won an Oscar for Scientific and Technical Achievement in 1979. (Via)

🍿 The Burden, a Swedish stop-animated musical, a sad existentialist dirge about animals night-working at a supermarket, boiler room and other dreary places. [*Female Director*]

🍿 Plucking Tangerines, (2021) a completely random pick about a young British woman remembering the time her girlfriend left her. I just didn't care for it. [*Female Director*]

🍿

Another one I couldn't finish: Michael Showalter's Hello, my name is Doris. I tried it only because this was the comedy he made just before the terrific 'The big Sick'. But old lady Sally Field daydreaming about having sex with a young, hot guy was lame and unfunny.

🍿

Bad Faith: Christian Nationalism's Unholy War on Democracy is the scariest horror film I've seen this year. A documentary about the hidden racism at the heart of "Christian Nationalism". (But there's no mention of Nancy Maclean's work). 7/10.

The filmmakers are going to find themselves in concentration camps within a couple of years. :(

🍿

Throw-back to the Adora Art project:  

Adora with Buñuel.

🍿  

(My complete movie list is here).

[project1939]

100 Films of 1952 

Film number 95: Aaron Slick from Punkin Crick 

Release date: April 12th, 1952. 

Studio: Paramount 

Genre: Musical 

Director: Claude Binyon 

Producer: William Pearlberg, George Seaton 

Actors: Alan Young, Dinah Shore, Robert Merrill, Adele Jergens 

Plot Summary: Josie is a country girl who dreams of selling her farm and living in the city. She also wants to marry her neighbor Aaron, but he loves the country and never wants to leave. When some big city guests arrive, Josie is dazzled, but all is not what it seems. Suddenly they announce they want to buy her farm... 

My Rating (out of five stars): **½  

During Project 1952 I saw an ad for this film in a magazine, and I thought, “WTF? Is that actually real?!” Indeed it is. Unfortunately, the film lived up to my worst stereotypical expectations for a story about “country folk versus city folk.” The “country folk” were ridiculously idealized and the city folk were ridiculously villainized. 

The Good: 

Dinah Shore. She was easily the most charismatic and enjoyable actor in the movie. I really like her singing voice as well- it reminds me a lot of Doris Day’s. 

The Technicolor. As usual, I stan Technicolor. The print of the film I saw was quite poor, but even so, the color was luscious. 

There was a lot of music. This is a musical that barely takes a breath to stop singing, which was a big plus for me.   

The costumes were gorgeous. The film takes place in the early 1900s- it looked very Edwardian- and the period costumes were beautiful, colorful, and fun. (Ooh, I just discovered that Edith Head was the designer here, so that makes sense!)

The Bad: 

The cast overall was kinda blah. Aside from Shore, no one else really pulled me in. Alan Young was cute as Aaron but not terribly interesting. 

The music was not the most memorable. None of the songs were bad, but they certainly weren’t bangers. The only one I can remember after having just finished the film is the opening “Chores” number. 

The characters were very one dimensional with little to no depth. 

It was way too simplified in terms of country vs city. The country folk lived in a paradise of harmony and simplicity- they were all good people who loved going to church and dancing on the weekends. The city folk were cynical snobs, con men, criminals, and bawdy chorus girls. I know it’s just a comedy, but it was incredibly annoying and insulting. Especially as someone who has lived large portions of my life in both the city and the country. 

I got bored more than once with the story and had a hard time staying focused. Once Josie went to the city things kind of fell apart for me. 

Here’s an example from the opening song of the insipid “country vs city” stuff: “The country girls are natural folk, they like to laugh and like to joke. City girls are learning to smoke behind the parlor doors.” 

Oh, and yet again we get more jokes about men slapping their women around. During a fight, a guy says to his fiancé, “Oh my sweetheart, how I look forward to marrying you and being arrested for wife-beating!” Facepalm. 

And why does the guy get his name in the title when the woman is the main protagonist? Yes, yes, I know, “Aaron Slick” and “Punkin Crick” rhyme, but it could easily have been “Josie Slick from Punkin Crick,” couldn’t it? I just thought it was weird that she didn’t get first billing in her own film. (But not terribly surprising in some ways!)