#the fact that they always witness the cruelest deaths

[ssaraexposs]

I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending....

[beneathashadytree]

I love ur imagines especially the One Piece ones!! Would it be alright if you could make a scenario of a g/n reader who's an Ancient Weapon and like they're afraid of getting close to anyone since everyone they get close to dies. They're a part of the Heart Pirates and then suddenly the crew is hunted down relentlessly because of the reader and they decided to leave the crew. While they're about to leave after an argument with Law, Law stops them by kissing them and then they try to reason things out! Hopefully this works! Lubsss uuuu

NEVER A HOME - TRAFALGAR LAW X READER

Warnings : mentions of death and injuries, probably some abandonment issues sprinkled in, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : angst to fluff (I think)

Word count : 3.4K words (holy shit—)

Additional notes : I… have no words to say—but apparently more than enough to write 😭 I got so carried away while writing this. Honestly, I just absolutely ADORED this request, so I couldn’t help but write this much. Aside from all this, please make sure to check my bio! My requests are actually closed now. I do hope you like this, though! Much love to you💗

Requests : Are closed.

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

They don’t know when they’d decided to let their guard down. They don’t know how that constant nagging feeling; that creeping thought that ate away at their mind, was reduced to nothing more than a dull ache at the back of their head.

Born so different, and living so isolated—truly, they were destined to lead a cursed life that they couldn’t run away from. The circumstances under which they’d been brought into this world dictated that; after all, an Ancient Weapon instilled terror and carnage in every place it would set foot on. The fact that said Weapon was in the form of a human being was a tragedy scripted by the cruelest deity.

Something so horrifying, someone so overpowered, could only prove as a threat to everyone’s safety. Perhaps it was out of selflessness and a will to protect others from that gruesome fate of being tracked down and hunted for their relationship with them, or perhaps it was out of innate selfishness because they didn’t want their company and happiness pulled out from underneath their feet and leave them wanting—for whatever reason, they swore to never let a single creature in. To never stay for too long, to never speak too often.

But since stumbling upon that unruly group of pirates that seemed to follow the beat of their own drum, they’d found themself settling in. All ties to the wretched history of the world felt as though they were severed the moment they stepped on board, facing their carefree smiles and lively talking. The Heart Pirates, if someone looked too closely, were like a rowdy balm to soothe all the aches that the years of utter loneliness had left in their weary bones.

And, if they dared to admit it, the main contributor to that fact had been none other than their captain. Ever-enigmatic, nearly-always brooding, and startlingly sharp-witted Trafalgar Law. The man whose wicked smile and nimble fingers were famed across the entire Grand Line, and the name that struck a certain chilling fear in pirates and marines alike, had a startling calming effect on them.

They couldn’t exactly put a finger on how or why that was. All they knew was that Law was equal parts scary and endearing, with his bloodstained hands that still held the soft fur of Bepo at night, his cold demeanor that melted away when he directed his words to his crew (and by extension, them), and his own self that carried the past he never spoke of, in his tattoos and his clothes.

A mix of intrigue and genuine fondness had gradually grown inside them towards him, and they soon found that maybe that wasn’t so one-sided. A small, selfish part of them was reveling in the fact that he often sought them out in the midst of the crowded rooms of the Polar Tang, knees knocking and skin brushing. Tingles went down their spine whenever he called them into his office, with reasons that even they could see through as flimsy excuses to have them within close proximity. Even his guarded eyes turned a warmer shade of molten gold that had their heart thrumming in their chest.

With the new-found stability they’d found with Law and his crew, their fear of having everything ripped away from them, that was always very much there, had somehow become just background noise to them. And that was probably their first mistake.

That false comfort came shattering down on them the very second Shachi slammed the door to the cabin open one normal day, a frantic look in his eyes that was anything but normal.

“Marines?” Law swiftly got up, hand reaching for his sword at the same time they gripped the sheath of theirs, already alerted by the loud presence and thumping of feet outside.

“I’ll go outside, check if we’ll need you to interfere,” they said, turning back to Shachi who now had an uneasy expression on his face. “Spit it out. What’s wrong?”

“Uh, I wouldn’t advise you to go out.” He swallowed thickly, his eyes flitting between his captain and the person that was considered closest to him. “They’re… sorta looking for you. Something about… weapons?”

Their face blanched instantly, all color draining from their face at the realization that their past and identity had finally caught up to them in the absolute worst way possible. Shachi was saying something about him not really understanding what the Marines wanted with them, but they couldn’t register a single word that was being said. Their blissful days spent on the Polar Tang were nothing but borrowed time, and fate had sent a harsh but much-needed reminder.

Flashes of images seared into their memory finally resurfaced, reminding them of what had happened the last time they’d allowed themself to indulge in someone’s presence. As Law rushed onto the deck and began to shout orders that Penguin rapidly relayed, they remained stuck in the loop in their head.

As the loop played, they watched people they’d grown to care for get sliced and gutted so brutally that the ground seemed to soak up their blood and gore—sometimes meeting a much worse fate, plainly vanishing off the face of the earth without leaving a trace behind, as if their existence had never been.

The reel was only snipped clean in half when Law huffed back into the room, an unreadable expression on his face as he called their name and snapped them out of it.

“Yes, Captain?”

He clicked his teeth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d remind them that there was no need for stiff formalities between them when he’d been as honest with them as his tentative heart could allow him to, but he said nothing this time, and only pinned them with his piercing stare.

“What’s that they were saying about you being an Ancient Weapon?”

Say nothing, reveal nothing. That had always been their policy as they jumped from ship to island to ship. And besides, it was impossible for them to open their mouth and speak when it suddenly felt like dry sandpaper.

“I vaguely know of some of them,” he went on to say as he gestured for them to take a seat on the worn-out sofa, “But I’m sure that I’ve never heard of a single mention of your name—and considering the circles I’ve been in, that’s unusual. Why’s that?”

Swallowing thickly, they tried once again to push past that barrier and speak. This time they succeeded, but their words still came out very stilted. “Because they’ve all been… eradicated. Everyone outside of the Marines who knew, that is.”

Law inhaled sharply. “Pirates?”

“And civilians alike.”

Silence at that moment wasn’t one that they welcomed, as they often did while being in their captain’s presence, but instead an oppressive thing that snaked around their neck and squeezed their airways.

Luckily, Law saved them the trouble of having to miserably fight for words. An inked hand rubbed over his face for a second, and it took them that second to glance his pure exhaustion. “I think I get the general picture.” He sighed, opening his eyes again as he moved to sit behind his desk. “You’re on watch duty tonight.”

They could tell a dismissal when they heard one. So with no more words left to say—and none that they were able to, anyways—they nodded curtly, taking themself out with the weight of their sword heavier than usual.

***

That was the first of many, many times in which they’d directly endangered the Heart Pirates with their presence amongst them. It wasn’t just one time they’d find themself scurrying on deck despite Law’s exasperated yells for them to stay protected inside and let the rest of them handle things; wasn’t the last time they’d gotten into a heated argument with him over how keeping them sheltered was insulting to them.

The raw fury had flashed in both their eyes multiple times, subordinate and captain blurring the lines into something else entirely. The immense care and worry was plain to see in Law’s golden eyes, and were what fueled his anger, but all they felt was indignation and a deep sense of shame at the fact that he and his entire crew were fighting for them and their safety.

After all, hadn’t their very presence been the exact reason why they’d risked their capture in the first place? Hadn’t the fact that they’d been born that way condemned them to become targets for the rest of their lives, simply for associating with them? They could only dread what would befall the Heart Pirates when the Marines found out just how close they’d grown to the crew, and particularly Law.

It was that fear, deeply ingrained into their bones, that had them clenching their fists after another angry back-and-forth with him that ended with him slamming his office door with a curse. Enough damage had been done already, and hearing the small crack in his voice as he demanded that they let him do his job instead of recklessly throwing themself into danger, was the last straw.

It was time they begged for forgiveness from the Heavens and tried to undo the sin of getting too greedy.

***

The sixth time it happened by the half-year, they’d already come to the final decision, and nothing could deter them. Maybe they’d managed to fight off the Marines this time and leave them worse for wear than they were, with far less injuries on their side busying Law, but that did nothing to dispel their worries. It did nothing to calm that storm of guilt tearing up their insides.

And that’s precisely why they’d taken the chance to sneak past the bustle of the infirmary and into their room. With Law distracted like that, they could quickly pull a backpack out of their locker, and begin to stuff it full of what few possessions they had (after having spent so many years on the run and jumping from place to place, they learnt to keep the things important to them scarce and close by at all times).

Once they’d crammed it with everything that seemed of value (whether sentimental or monetary), they scrambled out of the room as fast as their feet could carry them without making their disappearance known to everyone on deck. They were currently moored to a mild-tempered island with enough inhabitants to deem it well-lived in and populated.

If they got off the Polar Tang now, they could stay at the inn in town until sunrise. By then, the Heart Pirates will have sailed away, and they could do some miscellaneous jobs to earn enough cash to carry them for a while. Once they deemed their savings enough, only then could they hitch a ride with any pirate group without feeling like they were a burden.

They’d successfully slipped past the scurrying feet in the hallways and frantic yells for helping hands from the infirmary without attracting any attention to them. Light on their feet, they hopped off the railing and landed on the grass on the other side that muffled the sounds. A light hiss followed them, and before they could get further than five steps away, they stumbled in their tracks as their (now ex-) captain materialized right in front of them.

Their eyes widened for a second, having not foreseen this. After all, wasn’t Law supposed to be holed up in the infirmary, stitching up his injured crewmates? They’d predicted a disappearance of at least an hour or two, even with his otherworldly medical skills and Devil Fruit. Their stunned expression vanished just as quickly as it crossed their face, and they stiffened in place as he trained his hardened eyes on them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Visiting the village, obviously,” they simply replied, not bothering to divulge more. It was better to stay quiet.

However, it seemed like he wasn’t buying it. Not in the least, if the skeptical look he gave them was anything to go by. Pointedly glancing at their stuffed backpack, he folded his arms across his chest.

Part of them grew angry at the demanding stance, while the other part absolutely crumbled in their chest as they thought of how familiar that sight was. Only before he’d been scolding them for spilling booze and not cleaning it off the counter, instead of catching them escaping.

They fumbled for another excuse, settling for a lame, “Restocking,” as if that would explain their overflowing bag.

“Funnily enough, I thought it worked in reverse. You go with an empty bag and come back with a full one.” His tone was icy as he snorted, probably at the idiocy of the entire situation.

A warm blush made its way on their face, partially out of the humiliation of getting caught in such a stupid lie. Gritting their teeth, they contemplated their options for a few seconds. Another fancy lie would only seem ridiculous and would never add up to their already-falling-apart excuses, and telling the truth would risk angering the captain and having him try to stop them.

Law had already crossed the distance between them by the time their thoughts had come to a halt.

“I’m not daft,” he snapped. “You’re leaving.” They opened their mouth for a second, and he interrupted before they could utter a word. “And don’t get smart with me and tell me that that’s what you’ve just said. You know what I mean.”

His eyes had always been intense, but now they were burning holes into their face, and they almost forced them to turn away. “And if I say that I don’t know what you mean?”

“Then I’ll call you a fucking coward,” Law barked a snarky laugh. “For running away again from the possibility of staying in one place.”

“Am I a coward for wanting to keep you guys safe?” they hissed, eyes burning with either unshed tears or anger. “Wasn’t it cowardice to force me to hide every single damn time we got chased down?”

“That’s not cowardice, that’s common fucking sense. Or did you want to announce your presence to the entire world?”

A watery laugh made its way out of their throat, and they had to clench their hands into fists and dig their fingers into their palms to stop themself from crying out. “Oh, please, as if the entire world doesn’t already know. The Marines have been tracking me down for years now, and—”

“And they’re not stupid enough to release a statement as to why.” Law interjected, clicking his teeth in annoyance as he read the stubbornness on their face that prevented them from thinking logically. “They wouldn’t want anyone to know more about the Ancient Weapons.”

Shaking their head, they took a step back, and it seemed that they were escaping this conversation on purpose—because they knew that if they stood there for any longer, they’d have to listen and believe in him. The body language wasn’t lost on Law, whose keen eyes tracked their every movement, and only grew harder with determination.

“We can protect you from their shitty attacks. We’re not weak.” He spat the final word out, as though the mere idea was an insult.

“Well, neither am I. And that’s why I’m taking the decision to walk away because it’s better for both our stakes.”

His hand flexed around the sheath of his sword, and he lowered his hat over his eyes for a second. They knew him well enough to know the signs of him shoving his feelings down and hiding them from others, and it hurt to know that he was doing this in front of them for the first time. But before they could wallow in the misery of being pushed out of his heart, Law had already looked up with an almost-cruel smirk on his lips.

“Is it really that easy for you to walk away from someone you love?”

His words felt like a punch to their gut, and it left them almost gasping for air. After having spent so much time running away from the reality of the situation at hand; trying to deny the very core of the problem that had them wanting to flee in the first place before things could get worse, hearing the words spoken out loud terrified them more than anything could.

It scared them; not knowing what to do with the feelings they knew endangered him. Law was incomparably strong, yes, but he wasn’t immune to the curse that followed them and wrecked everything in its wake. And to make matters worse, the fact that he’d already known of their feelings frightened them even more.

After all, no matter how much they liked to believe that they’d snuck into a crevice of his well-guarded heart as a close companion, they didn’t know what he truly made of this secret of theirs (if one could even call it a secret, after seeing the way they looked at him behind closed doors, or the lopsided smile they gave him when he shared a small piece of him with them).

If anything, it only triggered their fight or flight instincts—and at the current moment, they were leaning much further towards fleeing. In fact, their feet already took position to run off, heart hammering in their chest.

Law’s expression hardened as he observed their reaction, but before they could take off towards the town, his hand had gripped their wrist firmly enough to still them without hurting.

“Fuck off,” they snarled, in a last attempt to stave off any tears that might betray them. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not. If you’d only listen—”

They snorted, eyes as wild a as a caged beast’s as he got close enough for them to see the beginnings of his unshaved facial hair. In their panic, their reply only confirmed his words. “Listen to what? You enjoying making fun of my feelings, when I’ve only ever respected yours? Listen to you get cocky and hold my feelings as leverage over me?”

One step was all it took for Law’s long legs to entrap theirs. Rough, calloused palms reached out to cup their cheeks, and before they could wrench their way out of his grip, a pair of soft lips landed on theirs. Rooted in place, they didn’t even dare to move a muscle as his lips brushed against theirs in a firm kiss. Only seconds before he pulled away did they regain their senses, and the fact that Law was actually kissing them finally registered in their brain.

Tentatively, their eyes fluttered shut as they began to kiss him back, leaning into his touch that contrasted against his demanding mouth—warm and soft, and everything they’d ever dreamed of but had never dared to take for their own. It was sweet yet bitter; forceful yet gentle. It was all shards of Law’s soul pieced together against the tattered remains of theirs.

All too soon, he’d pulled away, though his bright eyes remained trained on them. It almost felt intrusive; the way he seemed to be reading something in them that they couldn’t see. Breathing heavily, they couldn’t find it in them to utter a word amidst that fragile moment. It was as though a string had been pulled taut, and threatened to snap in half at the lightest pressure. Carefully, carefully, they both had to be.

“Come back,” he gruffly said, thumb daring to brush against the flushed skin of their cheek. If they strained their ears a little, and if they put faith in what they knew about him, they’d know just how damn close those words were to begging. “Sit with me in my room. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Swallowing thickly, they blinked back the tears that they knew they had little control of anymore. How could they, when he’d wrenched their heart open and left it beating out in the open like this? They mustered what little strength that remained, and nodded. “Yeah,” they croaked out, allowing themself a selfish moment of letting him take their hand in his.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t kindness. Trafalgar Law wasn’t kind. He was all rough edges and charred pieces, and he was infuriatingly stubborn. What he was was selfish. And if nothing else, they had faith in that selfishness that drove him to caring too much. They could, at the very least, believe in him at that moment, and believe that whatever came next they’d brave through together. All they had to do was just jump back onboard with him.

And so they did.

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro @livwritesfics

[siriusblack-the-third]

Okay, lets talk about Patronuses.

To my understanding, a person's Patronus is either a physical representation of their character, or takes a form that is the animal version of somebody who is dear to that person or someone who that person looks up to.

Harry's Patronus is Prongs, a stag— his dead father's animagus form. His dead father, who everyone says Harry looks like (except his eyes. He's got Lily's eyes), who Harry looks up to, who Harry idolizes throughout the series. I think it's interesting to note that Harry doesn't have an animal that corresponds to his personality— the dursleys were never a place where he could nurture or grow his own identity, and Hogwarts was always riddled with too many dangers for him to have time to figure himself out. Up until the end of the war, he had no aim, no direction, no idea what his own personality was like. And so, his Patronus took the form of a stag, a tangible representation of his parents' sacrifice, of his physical likeness to his father, of his love and admiration for people he couldn't remember.

Snape (barf) had a Doe Patronus. His obsession with Lily was so strong that it became his personality. His obsession was the only reason that prompted him to betray Tom Riddle, the only thing that prompted him to make an oath to Lily that he would protect her child (bang up job he did of that, btw- just superb), and the only reason he made an effort to stay alive. If it had been the Longbottom family that was under attack, Snape would have gone down in history as one of the cruelest and most loyal Death Eaters of Riddle's army who did terrible, horrible things in the name of his "love".

Now to the main point of this little rant: James Potter, Lily Evans, and Sirius Black.

The Terf Extraordinaire has declared in Extracanon that James' Patronus was a stag, and Lily's patronus was a doe. Imo, that is complete bullshit. James Potter and Lily Evans are famously known for having started off on the wrong foot— he's an arrogant, bullying bastard and she is a sanctimonious, hot-tempered bitch (bear with me, please, I love both of them).

I can't believe Lily's Patronus being a doe— she had too much love in her heart for it to be a representation of her own personality. Even if it was that, it is entirely too inaccurate. Does are considered delicate, weak, innocent creatures. Lily in canon has too fiery a temper and too sharp a wit for her Patronus to be something so mundane— she hurries to rescue Snape in SWM with such rage, unafraid to go against the worst pranksters in the school. And if the angle that Rowling wanted was for it to be an indicative of her love for James, that her Patronus was a doe instead of stag was because Lily was a female, then that's utterly, completely stupid. Lily hated— no, Lily loathed James with her whole being for the first six years of their school. They canonically began dating some time in their 7th year, and even if Patronuses were taught only in the 7th year, Lily wouldn't have fallen in love with him so fast; he had been an utter dick thé previous years, and Lily is canonically too smart to let herself fall for someone who had changed so very recently. She gave him a chance in seventh year, but i believe that she fell in love with him much, much later. All of this just points to the fact that Lily's Patronus being a doe right off the bat is just.. weird. And something I can't imagine happening. If I was to give her a Patronus before she fell in love with James, it would be either a big cat or a dragon. And hey maybe her Patronus changed became a doe to match James when she married him, but then I don't like the connotations of a wife having to submit herself fully to her husband. So no. No Doe Patronus for Lily.

James Potter having a representation of himself as a Patronus is much more believable; he is confident, smart and self assured— traits we don't often see in teenagers. The thing is, though: James loved Sirius. Whether canon or au, platonic or romantic, they are always described as "never see one without the other", as soulmates, as two people who had a legendary friendship. His love for Sirius did not become his entire personality, but it was an integral part of his growth as a character and his story arc. They were best friends who liked each other's company so much that they literally made magic mirrors to talk during detentions. You cannot tell me that James' Patronus was a stag; his patronus was more likely to be Padfoot. He wasn't obsessed with Sirius like Snape was with Lily, he just had more love for Sirius in his heart than he had arrogance in his mind.

Vice versa for Sirius, who had Prongs as his own Patronus, because James was the one that saved him. James became his friend, irrespective of his last name. James took him in when he ran away from home. James was there for him, always, every time, every day of his life since he was eleven. James was his first friend. Sirius' Patronus was Prongs, and you can't convince me otherwise.

[salvatoreren]

Alright...

Chapter 127 is one of my favorite chapters in War For Paradis, so seeing it animated made me really happy

first of all that baby was cute that's it

tbh I wished Hange had raised their voice even more to convey more emotion as shown in the manga, because of the expression lines and all but It's good

Seeing the old scouts get animated in MAPPA also was cool, like i said in my last post abt the previous episode, Im not even an erwin stan but damn he looked good, have you also seen Miche/Mike? Whoo!

Bro Marco in MAPPA made me feel things, I love my boy so much even tho i make a lot of half jokes-

This episode made me sympathize with Jean a lot, which i did not honestly expect, he became my favorite character in a span of 24 minutes, seriously tho, he's honestly relatable in terms of realism

Gabi and Reiner's face when Magath tells them the sufferings of The Island devils isnt compared to what Marley has experienced, like wow it says so much fr it does

Mikasa and Annie facing off each other, god i love that annie shot with her blade

And Yelena? My god don't even get me started, Just like Jean I'm like wow this person speaks so much facts, and i was just cheering her on while she told the crimes of every single one of them like go on queen

oh and let's not forget about the expression Annie and Reiner make when she mentions Marco, pure, just pure satisfaction, Marco's death was one of the most cruelest things that happened, i haven't quite gotten over the unfairness of his death so yeah, but is it just me or do Annie and Reiner look more remorseful than in the manga when telling about his death,

Those shots, those weird branch shots i like them honestly, if i overanalyze it like i always do i'd say its like showing a shot of the paths so there's that

jean beating up Reiner, i swear guys i like reiner

Hange just being Hange, gosh they were so great this episode, their face when Reiner mentions about his split personality, them saying how no one was their to witness the past and to tell them to cut their bullshit, them saying "What about your seconds?"

Gabi apologizing, now her VA did a good job, so did Falco's, them saying please made my heart ache, poor kids

Istg guys Jean looked so good this episode especially these two shots

Jean apologizing to Gabi was idk ig this a stretch is kind of like Levi apologizing to Eren after yk beating him up, eh maybe that was just me, but fr Jean would rock the Captain position tho, and this part where annie says

Like did the guys rlly forgive her in the end? Ofc we don't know, no one bothered lol

Pieck in all her glory, amazing

I love this episode but lemme tell u guys I hate that god! only three episodes left, yk yk chapter 132 and then i will go into a deep state of isolation and utter emptiness bcus damn me for diving so deep into the aot fandom without any alternatives to make myself feel better when it ends, oh well there's always aot junior high,

at least the fandom would be suffering with me as well so cheers to us coping

[robbybarnes]

~DUSKWOOD~FANFICTION~

(Okay i wasn't so sure about this one. I wrote it like 3 months ago,but i don't know if is something good or just one crappy FF of mine...anyway that's one of my thoughts so it's better to share and see than wait. I can learn more posting it,right? Sooooo enjoy and let me know ^^)

WALK ME HOME

(MC/Angel - MWAF/HellHound - another character ;) )

It all started with a simple order. Go downstairs to meet a person. They hadn't told her who she was,only that she needed her help,otherwise she would be lost in the dark.

An accident had happened. Involuntary sure. But a girl had been overwhelmed and killed instantly. The people behind the wheel of the car that had performed the deed,were all safe. All except for one: Hannah Donfort. This was the name they had given her.

She didn't know what she looked like,if she had long hair like ears of corn or dark eyes like the darkest of the night. MC had been sent to earth to guide her soul through the veil. No blame had been given to her,but the very fact of being in a coma meant that her soul was aware. And with the awareness came the sense of guilt,the fear of what had happened a few hours ago.

MC should have fought for her,because those strong feelings had not only attracted the attention of Heaven...but also that of the most ruthless Hellhound. She didn't know him,Heaven and Hell were separated for good reason. However,when she had received the order to go down to earth,she had not hesitated. She would face him with the grace and power that only an elderly Angel like her could have.

She arrived in Hannah's room,seeing her for the first time. The serene face disfigured by wounds and weighed down by the innumerable wires and pipes of the machinery that kept her anchored to that world. She walked over to her and gently put a hand on her cheek,feeling the ghostly chill that thickened her skin.

"Hannah Donfort,my sister. No fear. I will free you and you will become like me."

She closed her eyes as she entered her dreams. She found her there,on the road where the tragedy had occurred. Hannah was in tears as she looked at the body of that young woman from whom she had brutally snatched the warm breath of life.

"I'm a monster."

She heard her whisper. She came close to her,spreading her soft,white wings like sea foam and wrapped her in her feathers.

"You are not. Accidents can happen."

Hannah turned to look at the glowing figure,tears streaming down her face.

"How can it be otherwise? If I had never gone out,all this wouldn't have happened..."

MC sighed looking at the gray and stormy sky.

"If Father hadn't dreamed,he would never have created all this. I would never have been born. Never died. Never became an Angel. Never came into this world and I would never have had the chance to save you. Heaven is my witness,I'm here for you. To take you Home. But we have to hurry. HE is coming. "

As she had summoned him,from a black lightning that tore through the sky,HE came as the cruelest of condemnations. The Hell Hound. The MWAF.

It was a difficult figure to focus on. A shadow of dark mist illuminated by red beams of pure electricity,enveloped him like a cloak. And he,with a sure-footed and slightly lopsided step,with his hands in the pockets of those elegant black trousers,approached. The face covered by a hideous mask that clashed with his suit almost too elegant for someone like him.

"What a disappointment to see you MC. As always anyway."

The angel's wings,which had,almost affectionately,enveloped the sweet Hannah,unfolded behind her in clear threat.

"Demonic creature. You who are the bringer of death and torturer of souls,fear my light!"

The MWAF opened its arms theatrically as its amused grin seemed to sing a macabre song.

"Many years have passed and you still hate me? Come on MC,our orders don't differ that much. This poor soul is torn with guilt and remorse,who am I to deny that? And that's why the decision is obvious,because it was Hannah who did it."

MC stepped between Hannah and the MWAF challenging him to a gaze duel she already knew she couldn't win. He was way more old and way more powerfull. But her determination was his greatest strength.

"The decision has not yet been made,Hellhound. You with your mere presence compell souls to follow you,but my light will purify her. Hannah is as guilty as she is a victim. And her awareness is enough punishment for ME."

Hannah looked at the new individual and could almost feel his smile beyond that terrifying mask.

"Can you walk me home?"

The MWAF folded his arms across his chest and the cloud that obscured the sky grew and darkened,bringing in the night. MC then reached out to Hannah and smiled sweetly at her.

"Your place is not Hell. Come with me and make amends for your sin by helping those who need it most."

Hannah grabbed that warm,familiar hand and stood up,making the Hellhound nervous.

"Angel,you won't take my prey away from me."

He hurled himself at them with the cry of a beast,but before he could reach them,a light from the sky fell upon him and struck him. The MWAF,rolled to the ground in the dust. He raised his face to understand what had hit him and saw his enemy descend from the skies.

"You! Our last fight must not have been enough for you!"

The infernal hound growled loudly at the new figure showing itself to them.

"The heart decides,not Heaven or Hell. This woman has already made her choice and she belongs to me!"

MC widened his eyes and raised a hand to warn him of the impending attack. However,that individual already knew what to do.

"Demon. Hell Hound. Judgment will fall upon her,not just by the will of her own heart,but by the truth that the people in her life have and are still expressing. Hannah has never belonged to Hell. She has never been. And sure as FATHER,she was never yours! "

Having said this,he raised a hand from which a blinding light emanated. A chasm burst into the ground and sucked the MWAF into the underworld. Where his home was.

As the light faded,Hannah got a better look at the being. He was for sure another angelic figure,with gray wings and wounds. He approached the two girls,raised his hands to his head to pull down the white hood of his robe,and smiled. Hair as black as darkness and skin as fair as light.

When MC recognized him,her smile swollen with pride. Hannah,on the other hand,almost confused,wanted to investigate.

"Who are you who come to protect my soul without fear?"

MC answered for him.

"He is an Archangel. He is as merciless as he is good. He is the most powerful weapon in Heaven,the only one except Father who can choose which is the true House of souls. If he has come here only for you,it means that you are not the monster you think you are."

The Archangel reached out to Hannah,spreading his wings wounded by countless battles.

"My name is Jake,nice to meet you. MC please,don't give her wrong informations. I cannot choose the true House of souls. What I said earlier was true. Your family,your friends and all those who love you,know where you belong. I just thought it might be time to get inside their consciences and find out the truth you were hiding."

Hannah seemed hesitant at those words. She killed a girl,how could they think she deserved heaven? But that boy-looking figure continued.

"MC knows me very well,but what I did was not my doing. Jennifer,the girl involved in the accident,asked me about you. She wanted to know the culprit and when she saw the love that surrounds you,she asked me to come here. So now that you know the truth,will you let us walk you where you belong?"

Hannah looked at the archangel with tear-filled eyes,smiling at him and nodding slowly.

"Yes, please,walk me home."

THE END :)

[classysmashy]

Into Each Life...

#3/??? of Nuclear Winter

ZoNa Holiday 2020 Entry Prompt 3 (Ornaments / Tradition)

@zonamievents

One Piece in Fallout Universe (kinda~)  [I do not own One Piece or Fallout]

AN: There was something in particular I wanted to convey about Nami with this one, but after this there will definitely be more Zoro. So, I have ideas of how to explain the devil fruits, fishmen/mermaids, and sky natives into the Fallout universe for this and it’s pretty exciting. I don’t know when I might try to get into moments to explaining them out, but I might do future chapters (after the holiday event is over) to do flashbacks that put key moments into this universe since this is supposed to take place six years after Luffy originally started his journey. If I do these, I might build up a wayyy longer chapter for those moments to try and keep them from taking away from the main story being focused later in the timeline compared to the past. Again, sorry for this being late, I had my ideas for these, but it was a matter of putting everything into the words I wanted. The original Fallout 1 and 2 games had much darker themes than the newer ones and I want to try and incorporate that, but not too heavy outright.<3

Rated: T for Blood, Heavy Violence, Suggestive Themes

Word Count: 4,379

*****

Ever since she was younger, Nami understood that bad things must happen for the good times to come rolling in. That was the second lesson she had learned from the death of Bellemere. The first lesson had been that she had to keep living, for being alive meant something, even when you don’t necessarily know just what that something is.

A part of her wanted to rip the world to shreds for the death of Bellemere and believed Arlong deserved the most cruelest, torturing death for the crimes he had committed to her hometown. And for so long Nami lived with that spite building inside of her, brimming over the top at times and causing her to lash out upon herself.

The first time she went wild with her anger, it happened while she had been visiting Nojiko and storing away some of the money she had stolen. Nami had lost it in a fit of rage, putting her fist through a flower vase, the broken ceramic cutting at the skin of her hand, and smashed up the kitchen table with one of the dinning chairs.

It was during those times that Nojiko started making sure Nami was voicing herself to the older sister, since bottling those feelings away inside was destroying Nami each time she felt helpless. 

Nami never cried though. She would get angry, break things, lie about being happy, but she would never let the full extent of the misery hiding inside to be released out for anyone to see. 

This had went on through the years, her deceiving charms becoming her main weapon to steal from unsuspecting raiders —after she had gotten used to their behavior and could trick them to not shoot at her. Eventually, the most normal occurrence seemed to be stumbling on the newer recruits of the raiders to swindle, stealing their money and valuables to sell.

Those years of experiences is what had paid off when she met Luffy that very first time in Orange Town, the idiot so unaware of what people could do to those who were too naïve. Nami used him like a puppet to gather up Buggy’s recent escapade of cash and stash, but had felt horrible when it seemed the guy was going to be killed, and that was another first time for her. Quickly, her fingers had already reached out to stop the refashioned canon from shooting at Luffy locked up in a cage. 

He seemed to make his mind up about Nami in that moment as well as the rest of Buggy’s men who were racing onto her form, ready to slash and make her one with the wasteland. 

Yet, that death never came back then. 

And that was how Nami met Zoro the first time, her back to him, clutching onto a lit string, and him with all of his swords out to stop the fighters in their tracks. 

That one moment in time seemed to set off a chain reaction. Zoro was constantly the one saving Nami from danger during their travels together, always seeming to run his lost feet right to where she was in need of help.

Robin passed on a comment to her about the action when he still seemed to find himself saving her randomly after all of them reunited. “If Zoro has no sense of direction, possibly it means his internal compass is set wrong. And I believe that internal compass is set to find you when you’re in danger, hm? It’s only a small theory, but one that holds merit with the actions he has presented.” The small chuckle Robin had hid after walking away from Nami and leaving the girl with just that, still echoed her mind.

All along through the years of being with the Strawhats, there did seem to be something odd about how often Nami and Zoro seemed to be thrown together when the two had clearly been offsets to one another, ideologies varying drastically and causing constant arguments between the two. The fighting between them had begun to die down some when they all came back together after two years. 

Whether it was because of herself or Zoro, she had never picked up on. The swordsman didn’t even seem to end up around her much at first, but when they were together he had seemed so... calm. Zoro had a different air around him, everyone did, and the way Zoro seemed to change had put him at ease about what his true mission was now with being a part of the crew. 

Protector. Zoro decided during the time apart that he was and had to be the one who was the full protector of the crew, of Luffy’s dream, and carry the burden of keeping everyone alive. The idiot became ready to throw his life down just to keep the others safe.

Nami had been pissed off by it.

A protector in her mind would never let themselves die so easily, never give up on their own dream like that, wouldn’t throw everything away in a blink of an eye.

But, that was exactly what Bellemere had done for her and Nojiko.

When she realized how much Zoro was becoming like Bellemere in that sense, she avoided him and kept distance between the two. Frightened. She had been frightened imagining the crew going through a death like that, Zoro’s death. And it was the pain she imaged Luffy had felt after their initial break apart when Ace died.

Losing Zoro would be hard, as a close friend and even worse on the dynamics of all the Strawhats. It was her realization of this that had brought on their first fight since everyone got back together.

During one of his nightly workouts while on watch, Nami had stormed Zoro and began questioning him about if he planned to roll over and die. 

To say the least, he was stunned at Nami for it, and he lashed back with his own yelling. Damn if it woke anyone up on the ship, the woman was talking mad.

Zoro would yell about how it was impossible for him to die so soon and he wasn’t giving up on his life that easily and Nami would yell back with how he had changed his philosophy, that she wondered if he truly wanted to be the greatest swordsman throughout the wasteland still. The moment she had brought his dream into question, he cuffed her wrists above her head and pushed her body up the wall, leaving her feet dangling off the floor. 

 Before, she had been frightened about his death, but this was the first time she was actually scared of Zoro’s actions. Her breathe had been caught in her throat and leaving her speechless as Zoro closed in around her, caging Nami upon the wall with a deadly look in his eye. The look that most experienced just moments away from him bringing great pain into the life of his enemies.

“I don’t question you about your dream, why question me about mine? You don’t know a damn thing about me right now through that clouded gaze of yours. Die? I’m not planning to go anywhere, so get used to it, witch.”

If anyone were to ask her about it, Nami would deny the fact that there had been a small heat that swallowed her insides when Zoro hung her out to dry then.

He seemed to gather some wits about the predicament he had placed both of them into, releasing Nami to stand back on her feet and turning away again to his weights. 

Zoro had promptly ignored her for the rest of the night, even as she burnt holes into his back until the wee hours of the morning.

*****

Winter was always harsh back home, even before Bellemere had been murdered. The income for the family would dry up as the mikan trees couldn’t bear fruit during the cold season and had to be watched over carefully. That also meant the family dinners would be kept small and that Christmas presents for little Nami and Nojiko would be drastically different compared to the kids of the rest of the villagers living in the town.

Nami was always rougher during winter, making a comment every single day about how Bellemere had to be upset about raising them and them eating up all of her money and time. Bellemere simply ignored it though, until spring would finally break the clouds above and Nami would drop the subject of money from her mind.

She couldn’t be upset about the traditions that Nami held for winter, just as Nojiko became more clingy and stuck to Bellemere’s side when winter rolled around. 

There were many traditions that the little family held together with their heartstrings on the line. Like how Nami and Nojiko would bake a tiny cake that would cut into four adequate pieces, how Bellemere would bake up the pretty ham Genzo brought over, how the four of them gathered together in a pray that Genzo asked of them to do around the food before eating. 

Four people just enjoying being together for another year, smiling and laughing for the whole day without any issues. Christmas was the one day that fighting wasn’t allowed, the day was to be sweet and jovial with nothing weighing down on the bright mood. 

But, the good times had came to an end after Arlong showed up.

Many people throughout Cocoyashi had stopped celebrating any holiday all together, in favor of saving up that bit of extra money to pay for their keep the next time Arlong’s goonies came to collect. Genzo would rest a slice of ham and pour a bottle of booze over Bellemere’s grave. Nojiko would spend time out with the mikan trees and would take the very last one of the year to Bellemere’s grave, returning on Christmas day and talking with her through the night about Nami. 

And Nami would stay away from home until only a few days were left of the year. There was a guilt that Nami carried for giving herself up to Arlong that she couldn’t shake off and she never wanted to disrupt a nice day for Bellemere, so she waited for the holiday to pass before making her own visit with a bouquet of flowers.

Each time she wanted to cry out, bawl until the ground became so wet it would sink beneath her and swallow her whole with the grass and mud and dirt, bringing Nami to be one with Bellemere’s body beneath. 

But she wouldn’t let those tears fall down, she would recap the bottle on her heart even tighter and chug down bottles of whiskey and vodka until her throat burned too much and passed out. Maybe, it was because of Christmas that Nami had developed her tolerance over time, each year drinking more and more and  pushing out how long it would take to reach the tipping point.

Things became different around Christmas after joining up with Luffy and Zoro in Orange Town.

As the crew built up more and more, the holiday came around just before they had reached Sabaody Archipelago the first time, and they had stopped for a few days to celebrate together.

It was a weird time for all of them. The only ones who was close to having a proper Christmas in the past years was Chopper and Franky, Chopper because of him living in the cold climate that was constantly set in Christmassy time and Franky because of how his “family” would booze it up and gamble money off together on the holiday.

Nami knew that Robin hadn’t celebrated the holiday in her life nor had Zoro either, Sanji didn’t count into having celebrated since the Baratie only had special Christmas dinners for customers and not actually anything for themselves. Usopp didn’t get to celebrate as a kid with his mom sick and nobody wanted him around during their Christmas dinner because of his lies, which would leave him all alone. Luffy had actually never told them if he had celebrated before and Brook was so old that he forgotten about the last time he had a Christmas, so it was a restart for him.

The whole thing went well though, super in fact, as Franky liked to put it. 

 Sanji cooked a feast after him, Zoro, and Luffy had a hunting contest. Franky couldn’t find any lights, but cut a tree down for them to settle around. Nami, Robin, and Chopper would work on cutting up fabric to hang around the place they were hunkered in to make the scene just a bit more festive. Usopp had been the one to tell all the jokes and stories that gave everyone hearty laughs and looks of disbelief as they ate and drank. Brook would be playing Christmas tunes on his violin through the nights, whisking them to sleep with the beautiful melodies.

That was their first time celebrating Christmas all together and after being apart two years, when Christmas rolled back around, they did it again. This time more people were celebrating with them, Jinbe, Law, people that Luffy had dragged into his life deciding that from this time onward, they were his friends whether they liked it or not.

Those traditions built of being together as a family of friends were beautiful and she would look forward to when the time would come and she would be able to get actual gifts together for all of them.

*****

A cool, wetness dragged across the skin of her cheek, the dishrag scratching at the blood splatters covering her face. Another one was wiping away at the blood all over her hands, gently tugging between fingers and nails to remove the evidence of the crimes that just happened.

Zoro’s bracelet was still on her wrist, the gold tainted by brahmin blood that had collected inside of the gold plates that hung from it. 

Nami’s eyes were out of focus, a blur of frames moving at turtle speed, unable to look at the two men cleaning her. But she didn’t need to see properly to know the horrifying sight laying out before her on the highway. 

Like cattle to the slaughter, they had been leaving Sabaody when hell broke loose, a rainfall of bullets scattered down, two dozen gunners giving their hiding places up. There was screams that came from a few of them about how Nami and the settlers had killed their friends so now it was time for revenge.

Nami had ducked away behind a car, a bullet hitting straight into her left shoulder and as she hit the deck, she realized there was a sliced up body impaled on metal poles along this stretch of highway. 

The settler she had sent back first had his body torn apart, limb for limb, with each one stabbed through with the metal poles. His torso had a metal chain shoved through it and tied to the poles with his arms, lifting it up for crows and bloodbugs to get their pickings in. The most disgusting part was the short metal pipe shoved into a right angle down what was left of his throat and his head had been decapitated to screw the settler’s head onto the pipe and making the pipe poke out of his right eye, mouth left open in a scream, and Nami wondered how much of the torture he was alive for.

Just from the sight of him, it was clear that there was no hope left for them.

One by one, the three settlers left succumbed to the bullets, unable to get away in time, and the screams of pain would probably haunt Nami’s nightmares for years to come. The poor brahmin came to run and hide with Nami, but it was brought to the ground when her back right leg was shot off and the brahmin fell with moos and groans of agony.

It was a pitiful sight and made her heart ache as hot tears slid down her jaw. She kicked herself up, bringing out a boot knife to stab into both of the skulls of the brahmin, giving the girl the peace she deserved, the noises silencing and chest growing still. The oozing blood from the brahmin sliding around on her hands when she shut the eyes of the animal.

A swarm of four gunners were suddenly on Nami’s body, guns beating into her flesh, and preventing her from doing anything to get out of their grip. She felt one of the male gunners swipe his hand over the front of Zoro’s jacket that was zipped to the top, his hand close to grabbing a full feel of her breast.

When a slash of a sword cut him in half, body sliding off of itself and spurting blood all over her body, and it was going to be over quickly now, she had decided.

Luffy was running headfirst at the rest of the gunners on the highway, she could hear the screams from them, the impact of the blows suffered by Luffy’s strength, and the flops to the ground in their death.

Before her was Zoro, a wicked glint to his eye, slashing away over and over and over again at the gunners that had surrounded her. Nami watched as his focus shifted to be on the one who had planned to assault her, puke rising and burning her throat as she watched him chop the gunner into pieces.

And into more pieces. Blood pouring out over the concrete, running over her shoes, splashing on her face and body.

Nami remembered that stare, from that night on his watch when she had set him ablaze with anger. Blood was everywhere. Everywhere.

The more the two went at it with their brutal strength, Nami retreated into herself, shaking uncontrollably and losing sense of what was going on around her. She didn’t want to see them like this, it wasn’t the matter of being scared, but seeing what Luffy and Zoro were capable of reminded her of rougher days in her early life.

Every time Zoro went for such a grotesque kill, she had the image in her mind of seeing the smoking gun in Arlong’s hand. The way Bellemere’s body caved in on itself, shoes flying in the air, the black ring of hole left in her forehead and more smoke pouring out. Bellemere’s blood had ended up on her face in that moment, as well as on Nojiko. 

Just like now. The blood from each cut and stab Zoro produced was in close proximity to her, painting her. It was too much for her senses to handle and her eyes slid shut, hiding away from the massacre.

Luffy and Zoro would always be a deadly pair together. More so than Sanji could ever hope to achieve by teaming up with the two because Sanji had his limits to how far he would go while Luffy and Zoro didn’t. This was especially true in the case of something involving all of their friends, but the two had also made it clear that they wouldn’t take anything happening to Nami and would act like this.

Right now, Usopp was properly working with Franky with what could be spared to decorated until the new materials got back to the settlement. Robin and Chopper would be preparing gift ideas for the boys who would have no clue about what to get. Sanji would be placing in orders for different ingredients and checking stock for the dinner. Brook would be cleaning and tuning instruments, deciding the order of the classic songs and writing his own. Jinbe would be picking up the slack that anyone needed and making sure people were getting done what needed to be. Law was probably trying to figure out a way to run and how long he might be able to hide out before Luffy found him.

Some time passed ever so slowly. Nami pushed out the noise of gushing blood and gurgles of pleading by placing her mind somewhere else.

A week and half would be Christmas, by this much time having passed, the tradition during this time was to be preparing for the Strawhats Christmas celebration. 

“People should stick to their traditions.” Luffy was the one to be dead-set in making Christmas happen every year. It wasn’t like this world really called for the holiday, the world was too destroyed for the majority to have the time to think on the holidays. 

Luffy was the one wiping the blood from her hands. A weird sight to see him so calm, but it was soothing to know the captain cared to be careful of the discomfort that radiated from Nami’s body.

Zoro cupped her chin with one hand and the other was cleaning the blood away from her face. She wondered if he realized the effect his skills had on her and not the good effect. Well, it was good to know he could keep her safe, yet there was a fear of what the man held inside.

He probably contained his own anger at times, like Nami did as a kid, and that anger led to who he became today. When Nami went the cunning route to counter what happened in her life, Zoro had built up a steady resistance in him and strength to demolish whatever stepped in his path again.

The two of them, Luffy and Zoro, they were made for this world, created for this wasteland. The two could survive without issue, it wasn’t the same as to how Nami’s main way to protect herself was by tricking the enemies or standing beside people for safety, rarely she could survive by her own hands, though during their past travels she had been better at it than now.

This was the wasteland.

A brutal and bloody mess, normal humans sent into a world of monsters and having to become monsters themselves to survive. The raiders were drove to drugs and insanity. Gunners fighting for the hell of it and for the money. Super mutants had been normal humans, subjected to experiments to make them into the monsters they were. The brahmin and radstag were normal animals in a lost world, now they were their own monsters by being mashed with one of their own breed, two cows and two deers forced into twins. The ghouls were normal people as well, the radiation seeping into their bodies so much that their skin was now papier-mache and slowly rotting their brains. Domesticated robots having codes changed to murder on sight, new robots created as pure killing machines. Synths would be used to kidnap the normal humans and replace them, driving fear into every single person that no one could truly be trusted. 

Just as Luffy had created traditions that they would all follow at their home, the wasteland had its own traditions.

If you can’t kill, you get killed.

Lately, Nami had been spending time out and about, but it had been nearly a year since the last time she went out before getting the feral ghoul blood with Zoro. She had grown so used to the setting of being inside walls and being away from reality. 

The life being built was worth the payoff, but it was destructive for her wellbeing.

“Nami,” Zoro’s lips were pressing at the skin behind her ear, Luffy had clasped their fingers together and circled her legs. “Where are you?” She turned into Zoro’s warmth and felt her eyes shaking.

The promise to Bellemere was that she wouldn’t cry. Nami broke that when she asked the first time for help against Arlong. A high rule for herself was broken because of the trust she had gained in all of her friends.

“Why are you here?” She bit the tears down, she did trust them, but now wasn’t the time to reveal all of the trouble inside.

“Mm, materials for Franky, lots of money, stories to look into...” She needed to hurry up and move on, get the bag of materials for Franky down from what was left of the settlers torso and go forward, not backwards. She needed to be away from her own head.

“It doesn’t matter,” Luffy said, catching onto Nami’s eyes and holding her gaze, “Did the trade go well?” Distraction, don’t think about this if it’s taking a toll on you, gather yourself.

Zoro tore away her hand from Luffy, lifting it to see the cleaned bracelet jingle against her wrist. “It looks better than I thought it would.” A smile stretched on his lips, pressing them into the skin just beneath her palm with a hum. “Your heartbeat is starting to even out, that’s good. You don’t have to be scared.”

He knew, of course he knew. The swordsman could always read her at nearly any given moment, only missing at certain times, that was part of the dynamic that Usopp would never understand. 

If she had half a mind of her normal senses right now, Nami would say that the two had been following along around her or ahead of her for a reason. The fact that Shakky said they went to the bar and the fact that they had been here to save her now.

Everything was everywhere in her mind, lost in a state of confusion she still couldn’t break.

Why had she been thinking so much about the past? Why did she have such bad luck to get the people she was supposed to protector murdered instead? Why, why, why?

Nami was spinning, she wasn’t sure if her body was even actually moving, she could barely make out Zoro saying something about her heartbeat, her pumping blood.

White. The sky was white, all the blue drained away and the sun hidden deep in the clouds. Snow was trickling down in shimmers, slow and unsure of the places that they wanted to stick to.

Nami’s breathing had increased, she had to be hyperventilating, her mind numbly noting the change.

Both Zoro and Luffy’s faces flooded her sight, their mouths were moving, but she didn’t hear a word. Then her eyelids slid closed and she felt the darkness flood her.

[tamyrawilliams]

After everything that happened on the day/night of the gloom, Tamyra invites @aureliemarchand and @akbartheolder along to an attempt to get to the South Beach and get some answers. The expedition turns south quickly, though, (pun intended), and Tamyra’s desperation has a price.

The determination to get to the South Beach was just as strong inside Tamyra right now as it usually was to get out of the island. She knew, however, that getting to the South Beach wasn't going to be a joy ride. The water was without a doubt the safest way and after dragging a boat across half the island and recruitment done, Tamyra was leading Aurélie and Emre towards the fishing boat she deemed the best chance for this endeavor.

"I figured somebody could paddle, somebody could use the water to help with speed." There was a reason she asked two other fellow water attuned members. "We could take turns, one resting at all times so we can keep our energy. And then once we arrive to the other shore, we figure out the rest."

________

"Wasn't this yours and Frank's boat-tingie - " Emre started to ask, but then shook his head. "Actually never mind, I don't really care."  He really shouldn't have agreed to this expedition to begin with, considering all the work that had to be done  after all that fog and mess and...the rest of it.  But by that same token, he had made promises to Tamyra - and the hope of getting Iyaz off the island was too tempting, wooed as Emre was by Tam's determination.

The fact that Aurélie was a part of this only gave Emre further incentive.  It was so good to see everything again clearly, without fog and dark.  He eyed Aurélie, trying to gauge her reasons for joining Tamyra on this goose chase.

“Not really sure I'd be much good at using water for speed.  Still haven't gotten the hang of all that water...moving."  Emre reached for one of the oars.  "I'll go with this, yeah.  I'm good at brute strength."

________

It’s simple: she needs something to do. After weeks of being holed up thanks to head injury followed by days clouded by grief for one of her oldest friends, Aurélie cannot sit still anymore. What’s more, she wants answers. If this is her home, the place she has accepted as her life, she needs to learn the ins and outs of living in it. What she wants, really, is answers: for the fog, for the memories she’d been faced to witness again. For Matthew.

But she’ll take the South Beach for now.

“You mean to tell me that you dragged a fishing boat all this way?” Aurélie has been quiet, mostly, mulling over her stormy feelings and the likely inevitable reactions she’ll receive for taking part of this scheme. But something impressed creeps into her tone now. “It is a sound plan,” she shrugs in response to Tamyra’s orders of operation. “But I do think perhaps some more of the rest should be figured out, hm? Like what you intend to do on the South Beach when we reach it.” If they reach it.

________

"Yeah, I did," Tamyra nodded at Aurélie's question. "I had to work off some... frustrations." That fateful day was a lot for her, and despite her hiding away on the jag, she was not at all back to normal or back to alright, and the boat presented the perfect opportunity to not have to think about it, just curse her way here with the boat.

"Alright, so Emre, you'll be on oar duty, we will handle the water moving," Tamyra nodded, ready to get going right away when Aurélie suggested some more planning should be done. "I would love to, Rélie. Trust me, I would be the happiest if we could prepare for everything, but we have no idea what awaits us there, how can we prepare for that? There could be people there, or just a completely empty beach." There had to be a catch, if it was the latter, she was sure of that, but that wasn't really the point now.

"Unless you have something you think we can do? Either of you, really. Any ideas or suggestions are welcomed." Part of the reason she asked for their help was the fact that both of them were comfortable in the water and got things done, but also because they were such different people and had such different way of thinking. Maybe they could think of something she couldn't.

________

Emre shook his head at Tamyra's question.  "No.  Not much in the mood for wowing anyone with my usual brilliance," he stated mildly, glancing between the two women.  The both of them so much older than him, on this island for so much longer.  One aftereffect of Matthew's demise, was that Emre was humbled.  He intimately knew death and the unpredictability thereof - not just in the outside world, but on the island.

But...Matthew.

His murder was a strong reminder of the chaotic nature of death.  Age and experience meant as much as it did in the outside world: nothing.  Everyone could be killed, even these two ladies here with him.  He motioned for them to hop into the boat.  He'd push it into the waves and jump in after.

"So long as we all have weapons, yeah." Emre pat his cutlass.  "Other than water-magic, since you lot'll be knackered after sailing, and I'm only partially useful in the magic department innit."  He smiled wanly at Aurélie.  "I miss guns."

________

No plan, no prospects, no ideas. Aurélie feels her lips press together, gaze darting back in the direction from whence they’d come. “It is for the best that none of us can drown.” Aurélie simply concludes, trying to ignore her gut feeling to turn back. This is helpful. This could be a boost in morale, which everyone on the island is in dire need of nowadays.

Or it could be their demise.

After raking her hand back through her hair, Aurélie sighs and shifts her bag of supplies between shoulders and boards the boat, prompted by Emre’s gesture. She’s quiet, mulling — it’s been a pattern over the last couple of weeks. There’s little that feels worth saying. Still, Aurélie manages a wry smile at Emre’s comment, though it doesn’t reach her eyes, her short nod.

Aurélie sits once they’ve pushed off — being closer to the water has always been best for her — and keeps her gaze on the island as they take to the sea. “We likely should not stray far from shore. Not so close as to run aground, bien sûr, but... for the sake of caution.” If there’s room for that here anymore. She tries to keep that thought at bay, curling her palm to shift the water and set them on a reliable course.

________

"My club is already in the boat." Might have not seemed too much, but a directed attack at the lower regions could do more harm than a lot of other weapons. "But I do hope it's not going to come that. I know, I know, it's hopefuly thinking but... we deserve a win, right?" It felt like all they did was lose these day without ever realizing they were even playing. And Matthew's death coming after a day like that one...

Tamyra shook her head and took a seat in the boat herself after Aurélie and while she took to directing the water, Tamyra watched and made sure they weren't running onto any rocks and help the other two navigate. "That sounds like a good plan. It's gonna take longer than straight there, but we want to actually get there." She looked over at Aurélie, "Tell me when you are getting tired and we can switch."

She turned back to the water, one hand in it herself just to feel the waves around them, give her some comfort. She wasn't in the best shape after everything, to say the least, but she doubted any of them were. "Were you guys... there? When they found him?" she asked, still watching the water.

________

'We deserve a win' sounded so American to Emre.  Tamyra thought 'deserve' factored into things; though maybe she was being sardonic.  Like preparing to fail, not hoping to win.  Emre just gave her a smoky smile, curling and slow to dissipate.

"Oh, I can still deffo drown," Emre volunteered, not caring about admitting his own weaknesses.  He was fascinated, watching Tamyra and Aurélie operatin together.  Both very much A-type personalities, although Lielie was more subtle about it.   Emre wouldn't annoy them by proclaiming it aloud, but he was a little thrilled to be included in this expedition. "But Tamzy's got me well learned on swimming, innit.  Tops instructor, that one."

He winked at Aurélie, but his cheekiness faded when Tamyra asked that question.  Matthew.  Emre redoubled his efforts with the oars, acting too busy to say anything.  Besides, he had the least to say.   He only nodded and then after Aurélie spoke, he eventually added,  "No one's come forward, no one wants to admit what they did.  Either by accident or..." he glanced at Aurélie.  "On purpose."

________

"I do not know that Meridium cares much for what we deserve." Snappish, perhaps, especially coming from a woman so resolute in staying here. But seeing your age-old friend's bloodied form lying on the sand will do that to anyone. Aurélie lets it rest, looking out at the horizon, away from the island at last.

Emre reminds her, however unintentionally, of his age – or lack thereof. Aurélie can't help her scolding look, though perhaps it should be directed more toward Tamyra, wrangling this young thing into an expedition such as this. "Hm." Aurélie simply says, not greeting the wink with her usual smile, plunging her hand into the water further and feeling the tide respond. They curve around an outcropping of rocks before she responds to the next part. "Yes. Many people were. Esther began to scream, and... people responded, je suppose."

Emre begins theorizing and Aurélie exhales noisily. She's not sure what to make of the theories – like Seamus (for once), she wants answers. But she's also been accompanied by Joaquin, who has been made all the more troubled by the bubbling accusations. "I just hope that Matthew is at peace." She finally offers, then stands suddenly, pointing out, back toward the shore, where there's a flurry of movement. She squints against the sun. "What is that?"

________

Esther being the one who found Matthew felt the cruelest twist of fate towards the woman there could be. Part of Tamyra was extremely glad she wasn't there, didn't hear the cries and wasn't there for the chaos that ensued. It was still shocking to find out about it the way she did, but hearing Esther's painful scream... Yeah, she could live without that one haunting her.

"Yeah, hopefully he is at peace," Tamyra echoed Aurélie's words and didn't add that otherwise, they might actually meet him again one day. She absolutely did not want to meet a ghost Matthew, reliving his last memories. Though on the other hands, that might answer the most important question.

She didn't have time to dwell on it, though (probably for the better), because suddenly Aurélie was up and pointing towards the shore next to them and Tamyra whipped her head there. She couldn't see the movement anymore, but there was a set of rocks there now. "Those weren't there before," she said with a sinking feeling in her stomach. "I know we said that we need to keep close to the shorelines but maybe we should get a little further out. Just to make sure one doesn't suddenly appear right in front of us."

________

Aurélie's clipped answer spoke volumes about her feelings at the moment.  Terse, still grieving in her own way about the First.  Tamyra seemed a bit more distant to it all - bothered, but without Aurélie's quiet acidity.  Anything Emre said at this point would feel inauthentic.  He simply didn't have enough time spent with the Golden Trio, as either woman did.

"Think they'll find out?" Emre asked, still treading along the path of 'whodunit'.  He didn't need closure personally, but he had a cool curiousity.   Was solving the mystery a priority?  Would there be any formal investigation?  If the killer was identified, would there be any recourse?  Questions that would only frustrate others, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

He twisted, to try and spot what the women noticed.  "What?  What're we looking at?" he asked.  "Them rocks - what - earth magic?"

________

Emre is steadfast in his course, hypothetical inquiries that she, yet again, has no answers to. "I know that Seamus wants answers." Aurélie responds plainly, for once understanding the point of view of the man she's so often gone nose to nose with. "Will he find answers? That is not for me to say. Esther... I do not know how much she cares for such a thing. I have not asked." There's a pointed hint in that last part: you should refrain from asking as well.

Luckily, curiosity tucks her grief aside and Aurélie cranes her neck, putting her hand on her brow to block the sun. She's quiet for another moment, contemplative, then providing: "I do wonder about what Tomas' wife said. Of the jungle, and its changes. I have seen such things myself in there. But I wonder... does it ever seep out? The tendency for change?" And then, catching herself in the theories, she shrugs and sits back down. "Or perhaps you are right and it is just the work of the earth attuned."

Back to work. "Further out, then." Aurélie murmurs, nodding to Emre to guide the oars as she does the same for the tides. It takes some focus, enough for her to close her eyes. They remain closed as she poses a question: "Did you mention this to anyone besides the two of us, Tamyra? This... plan?" Without a plan. But she won't bother with that. It's something to do, at least.

________

Tamyra remained silent while Aurélie gave her assessment of the situation. She didn't talk to either of the two, so she couldn't tell how either of them were handling it, but she hoped that maybe whatever they'd find on the South Beach would be enough of a distraction from they felt right now. Or at least for Esther, she didn't really feel either way about Seamus.

All of which the appearing rocks made Tamyra forget about. A cold, worried chill ran down her spine as she stared at the rocks that weren't there for a few moments and then she was scouting the jungle on the shoreline and looking back to where they left off, but nothing. There was nobody visible she could see. "I've seen the jungle change once, not so long ago," Tamyra said thinking back to when she tried to help Frank not so long ago, "but I don't think anyone's ever really seen it happen outside of the jungle."

This time Tamyra herself helped with the water, wanting to get a good distance between their boat and those rocks. "No, I didn't tell anyone. And I didn't see anyone on the shorelines," not that that would mean anything, not if they were good. "You don't think anyone would actually-- try to stop us, do you?" Then again, nobody thought Matthew could die and here they were, so everything was out of the window now.

"Not that the island shifting around us is that much be..." A huge wave rocked their boat and Tamyra could have sworn something shifted, something grew under the water near them. "This is going to be a bumpy ride." They were far enough out now that Tamyra wasn't sure anyone else was and if the island was going to fight back... well, fuck the island, they would get to the South Beach either way. "I think we should try to speed up, too. The less time we spend on the water, the better."

________

How could someone who loved Matthew, not care?    But Emre focused on rowing.  "Like a bloody regatta, should've brought Yaz along," he muttered, pausing to drain a bottle of water.

"I've seen the jungle move too.  During the jinn - erm, the ghosts."  Emre mentioned.  "And fog happened. So why wouldn't the whole island start shifting all sorts to fuc--"  he was cut off when the boat jolted,  the hull creaking ominously when the wave slapped it.

Emre twisted, gripping the side on the starboard stern.  "Hold onto me," Emre instructed Aurélie, as Tamyra took over water-magic.  He folded over and peered at the hull, running a hand on the surface to check its integrity.  As he did so, his hand smacked hard against an underwater rock and Emre fell back into the boat, cussing.

"Fucking hell - " his little finger's nail was half-torn off.  Emre sucked the blood off.  "No - don't speed up, Tamz, no - big rocks'm right under us!" he called out to Tamyra urgently, where she was positioned at the bow like a ship's figurehead.

________

“Nom de Dieu,” Aurélie hisses through her teeth as the boat lurches over a wave, sending her moving with it. It’s something physical, at least. Less theorizing, more doing, which has always been more her speed.

So she nods diligently at Emre’s command, standing, planting her heels, and serving as an anchor. Or as much of one as she can be, considering Emre jerks suddenly back, sending them both tumbling.

Tamyra is talking about going full speed ahead, Emre is cussing, and Aurélie is blinking, feeling her gut tie in tighter knots at the realization that she’s hit her head. After blinking once, twice, she realizes: she’s still whole.

Back onto her feet, then. No more games. “Toward the horizon!” She barks then, holding her palms out but not sticking them in the water, hoping to avoid a bloody fate for her fingers whilst still changing the tides. “I did not realize the terrain, and if we are to avoid the rocks, deeper water—“ A horrible scraping noise cuts her off.

________

Emre's warning came just when Tamyra's hand hit a rock as well and she snatched her hand out of the water immediately, looking around and deeper into the water. They were in clear water not so long ago, and yet now they had rocks all around them, which had to be the island. There was no way it was somebody else doing it.

Well, fuck the island.

Aurélie was much better at controlling the water - she could do it without actually having to reach into it, but the best she could do without actually being in contact with it was forming recognizable shapes, which was not helpful in this situation at all, so Tamyra carefully lowered her hand again, only to the surface of the water this time so she could help Aurélie as much as she could.

A scraping voice stopped Aurélie and Tamyra snapped her head towards the other side of the boat where it was coming from. "Hold on for a moment, I can push us away and then we can continue," Tamyra shifted to the other side of the boat, but before she could reach the edge of the boat, there was another lurch and then another followed right after, this time they were bigger, and this time she couldn't actually keep her balance even though she tried grabbing for the side of the boat, and instead she was falling face first into the water --and the rock.

________

"Alright Lielie?" Emre asked, given the dazed look on her face - but it only lasted a second before she was up again, hands outstretched  Water-magic, powerful and strong.  Emre bit back his own suggestion: pull to a halt, bob towards the shore rather than further out to sea.  If the boat was compromised then they should scuttle it, strengthen the hull before setting off again.

"Alright Tamz?" Emre said when she pulled her hand back.  Emre stared to the shore, scanning the land.  It all looked new - but of course it would, from this perspective.  The jungle gave way to dense mangroves, trees pluming out of the water's edge, rocks sloping in between and out into the water in bumps and swells.  And beyond that...Emre squinted.  What was that ...?

The boat rocked again, and Emre turned just in time to see Tamyra toppling over the portside edge.

"TAMZ!!"  Emre yelled and leapt for her.  He only managed to grasp her calves, but she slipped out like a fish, water pulling her overboard.  Emre grabbed an oar, stretching it out towards her.  "Grab it!!"   The water around her swirled with red - her blood.  Emre grabbed for Tamyra, though it felt like the boat was falling apart under his feet.

"Liels we've got to land.  I got her - I got Tam." Barely.  He wasn't even sure if she was conscious, her face covered in blood.

________

If this day has proven anything, it's that they aren't sailors. Or perhaps even more so that the island does not intend for them to be. Aurélie has always stymied her superstitions in regards to Meridium. Though others theorize, she has simply tried to take things as they come in regard to the island.

But such things are not easy when the jungle transforms before your eyes. When ghosts greet you, taunt you, nearly drown you. When fog transforms your world. And now, when the island transforms itself, in front of their very eyes. Or maybe she just wasn't fast enough, didn't pay enough attention – whatever the cause, there is suddenly a dark form of rocks beneath them that Aurélie is sure she hadn't glimpsed earlier. But before she can do anything to address it, Tamyra is striding forward. Taking initiative, which Aurélie can't help but feel a flash of pride toward. That is until it goes south.

She's scrambling forward, hold on the tide lost as Emre tries to get a hold of Tamyra. "D'accord. Okay. You have her?" She wants – needs to hear it again, before she can focus on anything else. "Good. Good. Water, Emre, use water – it will clean it but also begin to heal, tu sais? Water to her face, gently." She's commanding, chopped and short, trying despite her instincts to keep her focus on the water. To guide them to a shuddering halt upon a sandbank – it may be temporary, once the tides come in, but it's something. "Ici, here, let me help."

As they hoist Tamyra onto solid ground, Aurélie can't help but think how sick she is of having blood on her hands. "Tamyra? Tamyra. Can you hear me?" All the while, she's cupping her palm – not to scoop up the water and deposit it herself, but to conjure small waves, depositing them upon her friend. Gentle. Healing, she hopes.

________

It was strange, the first few moments the pain didn't even register for her. Tamyra hit the water and there were the rocks under her somehow. She was dizzy and her sight was blurry and there was something... was that red floating around her? How was anything floating around her? Something was wrong, something was wrong, something was wrong--

And then finally the pain hit and it somehow snapped her out of her haze just enough so that she understood that she was in trouble. In trouble and in excrutiating pain on her face. And there was shouting around her, though she couldn't distinguish the voices around her. She wasn't sure if she intentionally grabbed onto the oar or if it was by accident, but she certainly wasn't aware of it happening, just that somebody was hoisting out of the water and there had to be something wrong with her face because it kept burning, burning, burning.

She was aware of the energy around her, even recognized Emre as he was trying to help her, and then after who knows how long, Aurélie appeared in front of her blurry vision as well, both of them scooping water onto her face and that's when she realized that she got hurt on her face. On her face. Weirdly she wasn't panicking until then, but she certainly started panicking now.

"I can-- I can hear you, yeah," she croaked belatedly at the question. "I can fix this. I can-- I can fix it, and then we can go on," she added, her mom's voice ringing in her ears as she told Tamyra that she couldn't fix it anymore. She could, though, she could. She just needed to focus. Which somehow in the mids of all the pain, she managed to pull herself together enough to focus on the source of the pain and the blood. If she could just focus and fix this, use the moving on the blood to fix her injury, they could continue on.

Instead of helping, however, all she managed to do was cause the blood to flow faster and make everything even worse.

________

Tamyra's face was sheeted with red - dark and juicy like a ripe jeweled fruit.  If the situation wasn't so alarming and dire, Emre might've even admired the sight of her, in a perverse, ghoulish way.  She was stunning, even now.  Aurélie managed to scuttle the boat, and just in time.  As Emre lifted Tamyra out, the poor hull seemed to sigh behind him.  Emre didn't look back; he carefully got Tamyra onto the sand, and let Aurélie take over.

Lielie knew what to do, she knew how to look after Tamyra.  Emre turned his attention back to the boat, dragging it to shore it better, so it wouldn't get carried off in pieces by the rough tide.  He could see the ocean rocks well from this vantage point - or maybe the rocks had grown out of the water, like warning spikes.  Daring them to return.  See what happened if they tried to do something the island did not want them to do.

Emre then inspected the boat itself.  Part of the bottom on the starboard had been scraped of, splintered and close to shattering under one more buffet; the portside still held, but the ropes were shredded.  Emre realized then:  Aurélie hadn't just been parting the sea and changing the currents, she prevented water from breaching the hull as well.  Magnificent and multi-purpose...but only enough to get them back to shore.  There was no way they could return to sea in this vessel.

He grabbed what supplies he could from the boat, and returned to the two women.   Tamyra's injury washed and clean but...the healing?  Emre made eye contact with Aurélie, a silent communication: This won't heal properly.

"We're going to have to walk back north.  Boat's done.  And ocean won't have us, yeah.  It's made its stance pretty fucking clear."

________

"No one is asking you to fix anything – arrête ça, Tamyra, stop that!" Aurélie orders as the younger woman insists that she has the solutions. "You can fix it by staying still–" She's barking with less care than she usually manages, but this isn't the time for grace. Especially not when the blood begins pouring all the faster thanks to Tamyra's conjuring.

After giving a firm smack of Tamyra's hand to ward it away (again, not so graceful, but necessary), Aurélie tries to get a handle on things. "Do not make a scene of this," she commands, arguably unnecessarily, toward Emre before peeling her shirt off and using it to keep pressure on the wound on Tamyra's face. Tugging her bra strap up on her shoulder leaves a smear of blood behind on Aurélie's tanned skin, and she swallows hard. The glance she shares with Emre then holds one easily interpreted meaning: This won't heal properly.

So after taking a shuddering breath to redeem her typical level of maternal care, Aurélie maintains the pressure on Tamyra's wound and murmurs with gentleness: "There will be no going on. I will not. Emre will not." She doesn't even glance at him to confirm. He'll agree, if asked. Since it came from her. "You should not. It is over, mon amie. I am sorry, but it is done. We must get you home." And perhaps Tamyra will even refute that, the notion that Meridium is home, but Aurélie has no time for such technicalities.

Instead, she removes the now stained shirt from Tamyra's wound and blesses it once more with the water. "This is no place to heal. Come, now. It is time to go home." And then she nods to Emre, indicating that he should get under one of Tamyra's shoulders. They'll get her back there. One way or another.

________

If Tamyra was in better shape, she would have argued back with Aurélie, but her attempts to "fix it" only drained her of her energy and made her feel even woozier in the head. Everything was red and hurt and spinning. And yet she still tried, still had to try. "Pl--please, no, I can rest. And then we can con-- we can go." There was absolutely no way that could have happened, though, not like this, no matter how much Tamyra was trying to fight it.

She didn't realize what Emre was doing in scouting out the area and assessing the boat, or Aurélie using her shirt to put pressure on her wound, she just felt the press of something on her face and then she heard Aurélie's refusal again to go on. The woman's last words, one specific word exactly - home -, was what really set her off, though. It was all jumbled up in her head at that point, but she could understand that one word crystal clear and she could feel her tears burning as they started rolling down her cheek.

"I want to go home." Not the same home as Aurélie talked about, not at all. In her mind she could see her own house that was most likely not even hers anymore, and her parents and the streets of Los Angeles as she remembered and not here, not here, not here. This was supposed to work. Figure out the secrets of the island, then use it to get out. She was supposed to fix it all, she was supposed to get home.

She attempted to fight the two hoisting her up, but it was a pointless effort that took a lot more effort out of her than what actually showed outside for the other two. "Don't let-- p-- see me like this. Please."

________

It was disappointing.  Not personally, not for himself, but Tamyra's convictions were addictively strong.  For a few blessed moments while they were on the boat, all working together, Emre actually bought into the Yank 'we deserve a win' mantra.  Like some sort of karmic tally, made off-balance by losing Matthew.  They - Tamyra - deserved a reward for all her determination.

Now look what happened.  It wouldn't be so sad, if she hadn't been so fucking determined.  A heroine, the star of an epic journey-adventure film.  Oscar-worthy performance, this.   Her efforts punished.

She pleaded for home, like the girl in Oz, in that old film. "Water first," Emre said, unloading bottles from the supplies he toted.  He gave one to Aurélie, and carefully tried to feed some to Tamyra.  He drank as well.   Then Emre did as Aurélie said (she was very right, in how loyal he'd become to her) and helped Tamyra up to standing.

"Alright, Lielie?" he asked her, as they began to carry Tamyra up the shore, northbound once more.   He knew she was eyeing all the supplies he carried like a small camel, and he said,  "Don't even think of it.  Out of the three of us right now, I'm the strongest and youngest, yeah?  Trust."

Tam pleaded something, and Emre frowned and looked at Aurélie as they slowly walked.  "Don't let what see her like what?  What's she on about? Tam, what you mean then?"

________

The water helps. Not just the water she lightly pours into Tamyra, but the sort that Emre hands to her, making Aurélie let out a steadying exhale. "Thank you." She murmurs, nodding at the instruction without inhibition, allowing Emre to tend to Tamyra for a moment as she gets her bearings together.

And then they get Tamyra up, on her feet. "Yes, that is right," Aurélie consoles. "Home. We will get your home now." Of course it doesn't add up, to Aurélie. Meridium is home – and besides, how could Tamyra possibly be still fawning over her days of celebrity at a time like this?

How little she knows.

But there's no time for fussing, though Aurélie contemplates it, realizing how much Emre is carrying. They've spent too much time together, she realizes almost bitterly as Emre reads her thoughts like an open book. "Well, if you need a rest, let me know." She murmurs, pressing the t-shirt to Tamyra's wound again instead of taking on the baggage.

Tamyra is murmuring something, pleading, and Aurélie wants to admonish her for her ego. But it may be more than that. A fear of a display of vulnerability rather than just vanity. So Aurélie turns to Emre. "She wishes not to be seen by... the population. In general, I think. Emre, your home – it is among the trees, is it not? Perhaps it will offer more concealed ground than the farm..." She doesn't know, of course, of those particular toils of the fog. And with another glance at Tamyra, it hardly matters, anyway. "No, no, ignore me. We have to get her to care. No matter who may see."

________

Tamyra didn't realize just how much she needed the water until Emre slowly started to feed it to her. But even swallowing was hard and her face was burning up from the pain from everywhere, really. It felt like everything hurt and it took so much energy to keep everything straight, to focus long enough to be able to even swallow those few sips of water that Emre gave her. "Thank-- you."

She was in and out, not really understanding what Emre and Aurélie were talking about while they were discussing who carried their resources and bags, she only understoof Aurélie pressing some kind of cloth against her face again, hissing as the pain stroke through her all over again. She wanted it to stop, she needed it to stop. If the pain could stop, she could convince them to turn around.

(Tamyra was so far gone at that point, she couldn't even fully grasp the seriousness of the situation, everything just jumbled together for her and she wished once, just once, things would go better, as planned on this hellhole of a place.)

She was eternally grateful that Aurélie understood what she meant, that she didn't want people to see her like this. (Both because of her vanity, but also because she had too much pride to let others see her in such a vulnerable situation.) "Yeah, other-- don't let others see me," she mumbled and tried to remember where Emre had his home set up. She wasn't sure if she's ever been to it, probably not. "No, no-- where are you-- taking me?"

________

"Yes, Mademoiselle," Emre replied, just shy of being cheeky to Aurélie.  Considering the severity of their situation as Emre gauged it.  All they had was a direction to go in: north.  But other than that, Emre had no idea where they were, how far south they'd sailed.  How bloody long was this bloody island, how far and wide did it go.

How did it reshape itself, was perhaps the better question.

So who knew what terrain they'd encounter on their way back 'home', as Aurélie kept calling it.  "We might have to make camp, depending on how long it takes.  And Tamzy's not looking too hot," Emre spoke over Tamyra's head, but ducked to get Tamyra's attention too.  "Alright luv?  Not gonna pass out, are we?"

Don't let others see her.  Emre wasn't sure they could accomplish that, but at least they had a while before they encountered anyone.  "We're taking you to your dressing room trailer, luv.  Great bit of acting in the last shoot, but you took a bit of a tumble.  Should've let the stunt double handle it.  Allow that, yeah?  We'll get it next time."

Emre looked over at Aurélie, giving her a nose-wrinkle.  Let Tamyra have this, he figured.

________

It's a brilliant idea. One that will soothe Tamyra, anyway, as she's still fussing over where she's being taken. As if it matters, when the only thing that matters is that she gets to safety. But she persists, and so Aurélie looks to Emre with a flicker of admiration at his inventive persuasion.

The sort she quickly realizes she can't quite follow suit in. Hard to be acquainted with film lingo when you've only ever seen one. "Ah, yes, the... shooting will continue later. No need worry." She gives a grimacing look toward Emre, sure she bungled the language, but that's not a concern.

Not as Tamyra keeps bleeding and as a rustling sound catches Aurélie's eye. Her head snaps to the side, following the sound and catching a sight: a practical tunnel, right through the trees. So long that Aurélie must squint to see the end of it, and even then, she struggles... yet there seems to be light.

As if the island itself is making the path away from the South Beach far easier to trek than the one toward it.

With a dubious look toward Emre, but knowing they don't have much time to spare, Aurélie turns toward it. "Shall we?"

________

Emre's plan worked perfectly. As soon as he started talking about dressing room and acting and shooting, Tamyra's brain immediately jumped to the conclusion that she must be home. Must be working on a movie and everything else at the back of her mind was nothing more than a loud noise of a bad nightmare. Nothing real. None of it actually happening. Just the movie and the accident.

Her body sagged, some of the tension leaving her body. She felt like she could breathe again which made no sense to her, somebody would have to explain to her what kind of accident she had, but she felt lighter and that was good, right? That meant that her injury wasn't as bad as the pain felt.

"Did you-- did they get some good shots at least?" she asked, needing to make sure not all of the work (both hers and the rest of the crew's) was to waste. "We can continue in-- in a couple of hours. I just-- I need to sleep. I feel so tired." She was mumbling, barely audible already. "Tired and-- thirsty. Any of you have-- water?" She wasn't even sure who were helping her to her trailer. In her dream it was two people from the island, but that was just her imagination, so it must have been two crew members, right? She'd ask about it when she felt better.

________

It wouldn't be good, when Tamyra's haze cleared, and she made sense of what he'd done to trick her. But then Aurélie piled on the fibbing too, and Emre was wretchedly grateful to have her cosigning the fantasy.  He still smarted inside, for hurting Madi, for fucking up Frank, tangled in lies.  But if Aurélie joined in, then it was the right option to take, right?

Tamyra would be devastated afterwards, he was sure of it.  But she'd be more devastated at Aurélie her old friend, than Emre the stupid newb.  And Aurélie liked burdening herself with the responsibilities of others, so....right.

"Oh it were great, man.  Really dramatic shot.  No film wasted," Emre said, ignorant of the advent of digital film himself.  "We'll just get the medic on you and you'll be right as rain, my luv.  Director's still raving to the crew innit.  That's what a good actor is, he said.  That's Tamyra Williams. "

Pausing to fetch more water, Emre looked up at Aurélie's sharp intake of breath - the tunnel cutting through the trees, inviting them down a lit path, practically.   Emre stared, fascinated, as he looked at Aurélie, then down the rocky stretch of beach.

"If we get swallowed up by the jungle, at least I'll be with you.  And Tamzy. Pretty peng, that," Emre assessed, humour grim and deadpan. He fed Tamyra more water.  "I'll be a bloody legend.  Right.  Off we go then."

In through the curved trees, Emre had never seen a straighter path.  It was nerve-wracking how...accommodating the jungle was.  "This island....have you always known that it thinks, Lielie?"

________

"What is the phrase?" Aurélie frowns, still looking at their path, its glimmering and golden light. "In English. Something foolish... do not look a gift horse in the... eye?" She shakes her head. Linguistics aren't the priority. "Whatever it may be: I think that is what we are experiencing now. So let us not waste time. Allons-y."

The path is straight and narrow and hard to waver from. All the harder to turn back. Aurélie realizes that as she looks over her shoulder at another rustling, a shift in the shadows. The leaves are closing behind them. Slowly, but markedly. There will be no more heading south for them. The island has made its decision.

"No." She answers plainly, frowning all the more now. "At least not so... evidently." Not liking how it feels, especially as she contemplates her own time trapped in a cave or thinks about the poor castaways and their inescapable years in the jungle, Aurélie sighs. "Meridium helps only when and where it wants to, I suppose."

Is she imagining, or is her comment responded to by a lilting breeze? No time for that. Not as they trek on, the path growing shorter and shorter as it closes behind them – and leads them directly to the farm, at the foot of the hill her house sits upon. "I cannot believe..." She murmurs, glancing back at the jungle only for a second. But the path is gone. There is no sign of it at all. And no time to waste.

"To your trailer, then, Ms. Williams." She says curtly, nodding her chin in the direction of her house. "There are some supplies there," she murmurs to Emre. "Left over from... well. And less eyes, I think."

It's only when they've gotten Tamyra to a final resting place upon the cot in Aurélie's house that she voices the nagging feeling: "Why is it always the two of us left to face these island mysteries, Emre?" A contemplation – frivolous, perhaps, so she adds on: "Could you get your brother? To tend to Tamyra."

________

Allons-y was such an Aurélie thing to say, but Aurélie only existed in her nightmares, did she not? Tamyra met her on the island but the island wasn't real, she was shooting. It was just a long, never ending nightmare that the head injury conjured up, right? It was all very muffled and confusing and she wasn't even sure if she heard it or if her brain made up the voice and Aurélie herself at this point.

She was in and out by that point, slowly slipping away while she was trying to hold on. Somebody told her to keep awake, she was sure of it, but was it in her head or was it one of the crew members? And why did it take this long to get to her trailers? It didn't really make sense but her head was also not really making connections too well at this point and maybe it would all clear out if the pain would just fucking stop. She needed the pain to stop.

She heard Aurélie tell her something about her trailer so they must have been close, and she intended to keep awake for that, but she used too much energy at that point, and she slipped into the quiet darkness of unconsciousness before Aurélie and Emre could reach Aurélie's hut with her.

________

"In the arse," Emre supplied helpfully, tone bland.  If only so one day, he could hear Aurélie say 'do not look a gift horse in ze arse', and no other reason.  He took his entertainment on the island where he could.

Carrying Tamyra along with Aurélie now that poor Tam had become docile, wasn't so difficult.  In part because the island, it seemed, made it easy for them.  Where Aurélie looked behind where they'd tread, Emre carried forward.  He didn't want to see the way the jungle closed up behind him.   It was enough to suspect, and see Lielie's reaction in his periphery.

They got up to Aurélie's beautiful little hut, and Tamyra was put to rest in the cot, like a swooning princess.  "There we are, luv," he said softly, but by now, Tamyra had passed out.  He glanced at Aurélie, and replied: "Maybe the island knows we do a good team". A subtle reminder that their threads were slowly but surely becoming intertwined.  Tangled, even.  Exactly what Emre hoped for.

With a nod, Emre hopped out of the hut, leaving the two women in the cool shelter as he went in search of his brother.

[desparikon]

Murdoc/Mac fanfic misfire #3

Murdoc is the last person standing between Mac and his plan to save the world.

Mac shook the tiny bottle, his stomach acid sloshing in unison.

It's not a date rape drug, he firmly reassured himself. OTC sleep aids. Murdoc would have a nice, long night’s sleep, and Mac would ditch his final tail. A small, but necessary, evil to temporarily get Murdoc out of the way. Nothing untoward was going to happen.

He slipped the bottle back into his jacket pocket, and took another sip of his drink, hoping the sweet stickiness would coat his stomach and settle the butterflies.

Disgusting.

What kind of message was he about to send to Murdoc, drugging his drink like that? It's sleazy, the lowest of the low. Everything Murdoc had ever done to him, and even he’d never attempted to trick Mac into ingesting something. Despite his intense, nearly overwhelming, feelings, and the opportunities, and the fact that drugging Mac would be the easy way to end his years-long craving.

No, Murdoc was bringing this onto himself. He was always too eager to make Mac’s business his own, so this time, he’d suffer the consequences. Murdoc was forcing him to make it personal.

They all were.

What part of Leave Me Alone, did people not understand? What part of I Have A Plan So Let Me Do This, jolted his friends into pursuing him around the world, in a chase that wasted time and resources, and threatened to exhaust them all to their breaking point?

Keeping loved ones safe sometimes required high risk and drastic sacrifices, and if he had to leave a trail of destroyed friendships behind him, then so be it.

Only Murdoc stood between him and finally being alone, and he had to get Murdoc to a safe distance. He couldn’t falter now. If everything went wrong, the fallout would be swift and brutal. His own survival was irrelevant, but Murdoc would absolutely not be collateral damage.

Whatever measures necessary.

Mac jumped, a hand grazing along his shoulder.

“Hello, MacGyver.” Murdoc sat back in the chair across the table, his ever present, smug smile on his face.

“Murdoc. I’m...happy to see you. Wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“Refuse an invitation from you? Never.” He eyed Mac’s nearly empty drink. “Though, it looks like you started without me.”

“It looked pretty.”

Murdoc leaned across the table and swiped the glass, finishing the drink for him.

“You do remember that I’ve been drinking out of that?”

“That is. Sweet. Really sweet. They need to double the alcohol in that, at least.”

As much as Mac wanted to throw back a few drinks to kill the stress, being on the run required him to be on at all times. Alcohol wasn’t an option. For now.

“I’ve been drinking out of that,” Mac repeated, stunned that Murdoc had drank out of his glass without hesitation. Flirting, or just being creepy?

“Yeah, I heard you.” “And you don’t care,” Mac smiled in spite of a sigh, “Of course you don’t. Alright. OK. Murdoc, can I get you a drink?”

“Surprise me.”

Mac appreciated the bar’s modernity in its ordering system. Using a tablet offered just enough anonymity for him to order the stereotypical girly drinks. The mermaid drink had been tasty. He had to take this opportunity to order the unicorn one. It even had little marshmallow ears; how adorable was that??

And Murdoc wouldn’t comment because he was getting the same thing.

As he pulled out his room key to scan and finish ordering, he also removed the drug bottle. Hopefully, having his back to their table made the motions of passing it to his free hand casual and undetected.

The relative emptiness of a hotel bar in the off-season, on a weekday, had the benefit of making the wait for their drinks less than five minutes. Unfortunately, that same lack of people left Murdoc with no one to watch but Mac. And watch he did, a mix of study and...admiration.

Mac rolled his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck.

He wouldn’t have that respect after this.

A glance toward the bartender warned him that their drinks were nearly ready, the finishing touches being placed. The time was coming.

His heart pounded in his chest. No room for error. No leniency for cowardice.

He turned to retrieve their drinks from the counter, popping the bottle’s cap, careful to obscure Murdoc’s view.

To Murdoc, and a future with him in it.

In the cruelest turn of fate, a passing patron bumped Mac while he poured the drug. He jerked his hand back, and spilled the remainder of the bottle’s contents onto the counter. That split second of broken concentration was all his anxiety needed to turn the situation into a high-stakes gamble. He was only about 60% sure which drink he’d drugged.

”Ta da!” Mac gracefully presented a drink to Murdoc before sitting down with his own in hand. “Surprised?”

“Only in the sense that I’m always learning something new about you. Keeps things interesting, no?”

“Cheers.”

Like cotton candy. Exactly as the pink-blue gradient advertised.

“Not bad. Better than your last drink, but this one would also benefit from being harder.”

“I ordered them without alcohol.” Mac disassembled his drink, devouring the marshmallow ears and cherry horn before licking at the icing and sprinkles around the glass’s rim.

“Oh?” Murdoc offered Mac his uneaten marshmallow, using the opportunity to rub his knuckles against Mac’s hand.

“I don’t want to end up like Amber.”

“I’m not? Seeing the connection?”

“First date, couple of drinks...I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, married to you.”

Murdoc rolled his eyes. “OK, that is not how it happened, but…” He poked at his drink with its decorative stirrer, the impaled cherries muddling the layers, "I guess that whole thing is proof that waking up married to me would be a bad thing."

“I don’t want to be one of Phoenix’s most wanted.”

Murdoc hummed; Mac had tricked himself into mentioning the elephant in the room.

“You’ve been doing a fantastic job of that by yourself.”

“Don't.”

“I think you’re really starting to embrace the darkness. Never thought I’d see the day where you’re the one throwing traps into your friends�� path.”

“Nonlethal, and always designed to do minimal harm.” Mac glared, and laid his hands on the table, pushing his glass out of the way before he broke it. “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy hurting people. I’m not out to maim or kill.”

“Mmm, but accidents happen, don’t they? You’re running, and you’re tired, so tired...and sometimes, the hunter sneaks up, corners their prey--”

“Stop!”

“Why, the force could’ve snapped her leg off!”

“Shut up!” Mac growled, his arm shooting across the table with intent to grab Murdoc by his coat’s lapel, but Murdoc calmly sat back, just out of reach, unfazed by the outburst.

“Yikes, what kind of attention do you want to attract?”

Mac’s eyes darted around the room, relieved that there didn’t appear to be unwanted witnesses. Yet. Their corner table only offered so much privacy.

How long did those sleeping pills take?

“And the standoff with the whole gang the other day. I was on the edge of my seat! That ‘You want to stop me?! Kill me!’ was a nice touch. Really nice.”

“I needed them to understand how serious I was about being left alone.”

“Oh, I think you got your point across. Did you see Matilda considering it?” Mac’s flinch as he hung his head didn’t go unnoticed. “No? Well, I can tell you the first shot was going into your arm, but the second...Lucky for you, she decided the hospital wasn’t close enough.”

“Maybe that would’ve been the best for everyone,” Mac mumbled.

The heavy silence amplified the sounds of Murdoc’s glass, the clinking ice, the quiet plink of the stirrer being dropped onto the table--

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Nothing better than my suffering, right?”

“Not enjoying, merely proving a point that you seem to have forgotten.”

“That I’m capable of turning to the dark side.”

“Exactly the opposite. You can’t be completely corrupted. All the chaos you’ve caused, and you’re still the same MacGyver underneath it all.”

“Have you not been paying attention? I’ve changed. This is the new me.”

“New you? No, your methods might’ve changed, but your motivation hasn’t. Everything you do is for others. This dramatic show of recklessness, of pretending to go all the way, is all to cover up the fact that you care, relentlessly. So much so that you stupidly reject everyone’s help. Even if it costs you everything.”

“Because it’s a worthy trade off to save the world! I accept the risks. I know the possible outcomes. Why can’t you, or anyone else, respect my decisions?!”

“Do you hear yourself? You’re not gonna save the world on some haphazard solo mission!”

“At least I can say I tried.”

“I’ll admit I tagged along for the entertainment—and your performance has been stunning—but I didn’t come this far to watch you turn the third act into a tragedy.”

“Then go. I sure as Hell didn’t invite you,” Mac snarled.

He stormed out of the bar, but instead of going through the lobby and up to his room, he rounded a corner into an isolated service hallway, and slammed his back into the wall, struggling to keep himself upright.

“Fuck,” Mac huffed under his breath, his entire body shaking as he forced his fists to unclench. “Fuck.”

He’d let Murdoc get under his skin, and now, his problem had gone from leaving a drugged Murdoc in his hotel room, to finding Murdoc before he dozed off in a dangerous situation. Great. He’d taken a step backwards.

Before Mac could make it back into the main hallway, Murdoc appeared, and shoved him, death gripping his upper arms, and grinding his shoulders into the wall.

Of course. Why’d he ever doubt that Murdoc would find him?

“Let. Go.”

“First, you’re going to listen. You want to put me through the paces like your friends? Fine. I’ll play. But bring it all, bring your best shot, and don’t you dare hold back, because I certainly won’t. It’s time to keep my promise to end you, wouldn’t you say?”

Mac wasn’t sure Murdoc was bluffing. He was glaring with a fury that Mac hadn’t seen since Amber had betrayed him in Colombia.

“You’re going to kill me in this random hotel hallway?”

Murdoc squeezed harder, unamused by Mac’s sarcastic tone. “We both know the fun’s in the hunt. So when I say go, you better start running, my dear. Run, and never look back. I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth. Run you down to the point of collapse. But unlike the Phoenix, I will not be called off. You won’t have peace until one of us is dead.”

“Murdoc—”

“Or,” Murdoc shrugged and released his hold on Mac, “you can take me up on the second option, which I offer only because you’re my best friend, and I like you a lot.”

Even after all his experience with Murdoc, the instantaneous mood-flip was still unsettling.

“Just tell me what you’ve gotten yourself into, Angus.”

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was MAMMON, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. They are said to be IMMORTAL and use THEY/THEM pronouns. In this New Testament they serve as a MEMBER of the VICES. Blessed be their name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

They do not care much for the title that they were granted when the realm of Infernum was instituted. They were given the title of the Vice of Gluttony, a title that was allegedly meant to be one of great pride and decorum. In truth, though, it means very little to Mammon -- what was a marvel was the effect it had on their abilities once they were anointed. Their abilities were once that of mimicry and shifting; in the Old World they were able to change their visage so that Old Scratch looked vastly different from the devilish goblin. Now, though, their abilities are far more coveted -- Mammon is able to mimic the unique ability of any angel, demon, or gifted that might think to use it against them. It is mirrored with a single touch, nothing more than a gentle brushing of the skin is all that needs to be afforded to them and the great advantage that they believed they held is suddenly stolen away. Mammon finds that they smile more and more often at the look on their opposer’s faces when they realize that Mammon, the Vice of Gluttony, is perhaps the cruelest Vice of them all.

THE HISTORY.

From the dark, inky blackness of Hell's pit, they were born. It was not into the notorious flames, nor was accompanied by a cacophony of wailing and grinding of teeth. The inception of their existence was within the darkest depths of Tartarus, so it is they, and they alone, who truly understands what it is to come forth from nothing. Hunger is an ache, pain is a most ardent yearning - but emptiness? True absence of all? To bear witness to that would have brought the most primordial deities to their knees, but to Mammon it was nothing more than a matter of fact -- like the vastness of the ocean or the unpredictability of existence. When they stepped into the dominion of Hell with the Morningstar deity sitting at its helm, they cared not for the politics nor the hierarchy that had been established, no, they cared only for the first glint of true, wondrous light. Not the light of hellfire, nor was it the light of the celestial bodies above, for they had yet to step foot upon the earth. It was the sliver of reflective light cast from a crown that caught their glazed eyes, gold and gleaming, intricate and detailed, sitting upon the undeserving head of a man who had once thought himself a revered and all-powerful king. From his head they plucked their crown, resting it upon their brow, and for the first shining moment of their existence, they felt something stir within them -- something brilliant, burning and insatiable dig into the flesh of their black heart and take hold. It shaped them, this yearning; like a sculptor, it chiseled away at the emptiness that had defined them, until they were made anew into something frightful, something beautiful -- something that, at its core, was an abomination.

It was not long before Mammon was acting upon the black desires of their heart, setting foot upon the earth and venturing into the throngs of man that parastically existed on its soil. There was no fascination felt upon meeting them, only amusement to be found -- a novel distraction from the emptiness which they had been born into and the futile politics that dictated the realm they called home. As they roamed the earth, they indulged their desires, collecting their treasures from those who were willing to part with them and those who were not. It was rather entertaining to see how their eyes bulged and spittle flew from their mouths in a rage when they believed that they had been robbed of what was rightfully theirs. Mammon would always ensure that there were seeds planted that incited frightful violence, from petty feuds to bloody wars. For eons, this is how they spent their endless existence, finding what pieces of novelty that they could in shedding blood and inciting an insatiable gluttony for treasure and entitlement that was the root of wars, starvation, and revolutions. They donned this persona and that, laughing as they watched the children of God turn themselves about in describing them and all their horrific tales -- Nick Scratch, Old Nick, the Old One, goblin, imp, and beast. Yet time and time again, they summoned them and called upon them to grant them libations and riches, to curve their voracious hungerings for power and decadence.

Upon the earth they had built their own kingdom, though they had no want in it of themselves, they had only ever desired to indulge the unknowable thing that had sunk its claws into their blackened, slow-beating excuse of a heart. It was not long before Lucifer caught wind of their renown, of the glory that they were stealing from him -- whether it be by Mammon’s own whim or not. They had merely laughed when summoned before the throne of Morningstar, spine straight, as unbending as the gluttony which they had instilled in the children of God. Into the pit of Tartarus you go, howled the fallen king of Hell gleefully, return to the emptiness that you call home. Lucifer had not known that all the while, Mammon had not felt an inkling of trepidation or remorse, for they had been so enraptured in disseminating the range of expressions of the court that looked on. They noted the disdain that hung on the edges of his subjects and underlings’ visages, how poorly Lucifer’s court disguised it and how deliberately he basked in his ignorance. Though they were cast away, it was not long before Mammon crawled from the pit, sloughing off the darkness that clung to them and desperately bid them to stay -- a blade put in their palm to cast the king from his place of honor and spit him from that which he claimed he had built. As they watched him wail and bemoan the insurrection, they felt their lips split into a little known and little practiced expression -- upon their face was painted a wide and gleaming grin.

The world that was remade was, in essence, the antithesis of the pit from which they had been made. It was fruitful, riotous, and with every breath it took it seemed to harken a new creation. What place in it Mammon had, they did not know -- and they did not care much, enraptured as they were with the way that it seemed to be an entity that lived and breathed as surely as they did. But there are moments when it seems to still, and those are the moments that stir discord within them; those moments of satiation, of contentment and harmony. It seems that now, the kingdoms have found their place with one another and were glad for the semblance of togetherness and respect that have been tediously cultivated over the centuries. It seems that now, the harmony of the world is no longer a fleeting ideal, but a fixated goal that they draw closer and closer to with each passing day. Do they not know that in harmony there is only emptiness? Do they not know that peace is the guise that true Death dons so that it might be welcomed with open arms and celebration of libations? They think of Mammon as an abomination birthed from a pit of emptiness -- little do they know that Mammon has seen the face of peace without its pretty accessories of euphemisms and allegories, without the idealistic pedestal it was placed upon. Mammon will see its death through, just as they saw Morningstar’s, and when they do it will be in much the same manner: with a blade in their palm and upon their face, a wide, gleaming grin.

THE CONNECTIONS.

GABRIEL: Unease. Over the span of their existence, there has been little reason for Mammon to truly learn the meaning of fear. They were birthed from Tartarus itself, after all -- the renowned prison for the atrocities of the universe to meet their end. Yet, whenever they encounter Gabriel, there is a certain chill that pervades them, a notable increase in the beating of their heart, and a subtle shiver that runs along their spine. Perhaps it is because they see nothing but the end within the creature’s eyes. They see how he longs to vanquish the abyss that resides within them, they see how he will not settle for anything less than the utter decimation of their existence. There is a certain romance to it, they think, to be the subject of one’s fixation. There is a hatefulness, a disgust, that runs so deep into his gaze that Mammon cannot help but find themselves caught within its throes. If there was ever an entity that might find a way to end Mammon’s existence, it is Gabriel -- so why, then, do they find themselves drifting into his vicinity time and time again?

ROMILDA ALTIER: Delectation. The spirit that pervades the Gifted creature’s whims is palpable -- it is bright and shining, utterly abundant in seething, searing warmth. Mammon remembers the shadows of their home, and even they think that Romilda’s light would have eviscerated any notion of darkness, so wholly and recklessly did she believe in herself. It was no question for Mammon, as to whether or not they would beset her with their presence, biting at her heels like a hound chasing its prey. Wherever Romilda seeks to find shelter, they follow -- lips upturned in a smile, eyes alight with poorly disguised delight. Their determination stems from their curiosity, wanting to bear witness to whatever might break the golden, shining ray in two -- what might be needed to sow within her a seed of darkness. They want to bear witness to the birth of the darkness as much as they want to bask in her golden light. The conflicting wants fill them with long sought-after intrigue. At what cost, though? At what cost?

REVNA VOLK: Curiosity. They like to make a show of themselves, it is true; they bask in the attention of all, so that the void within them might experience some semblance of satiation. But there is a peculiarly aggravating need for them to constantly have Revna’s attention. Her gaze is always heavy with deliberate concentration -- but moreover, whenever they talk to one another her words always seem stained with such melancholy. It is as though she looks at them and sees nothing but the truths that she longs to escape, the ghosts that she is too afraid to confront is the loneliness of the long hours of the night. The Gifted woman seems determined to rein in her obsession, but Mammon can’t help but enable it, utterly enraptured by the self-torture that she seems to delight in. They know it’s a rather cruel activity to partake in, but it’s not as though they’re the ones tying the noose around her neck, no. They are merely the ones handing her the rope.

GADRIEL: Wound. There has only ever been one instance where Mammon has found themselves bested. It was at the hands of Gadriel, in a fleeting spat over territories when the world was still fresh and ripe with the chaos of creation. They had executed every blow perfectly, thrilled at the clash of metal that was sounding in the clearing. It had become like a dance between the two of them -- when, suddenly, the sword was being held at their throat and she was looking upon them with an arched brow. It was the only time Mammon had found themself completely and utterly defeated. Without a word, she had let them go, neither of them breathing a word of her victory nor their defeat. But still, every time they are forced to regard her, they feel that wound fresh and bleeding still, the novelty of it all giving way to something far more malevolent. They no longer want to regain their pride, no, they want her begging and crawling at their feet. They hunger for it.

Mammon is portrayed by Noma Han and was written by ROSEY. They are currently TAKEN by EMMA.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Why I need Reylo to happen and Ben Solo to live in TROS:

I have two stories to tell that will hopefully explain why I’m not neutral about the ending of The Rise of Skywalker. I mean, I’d love to temper my expectations and say that I’ll be happy no matter how it ends, but that’s not true because this story has become intensely personal for me.

Most Reylos and even many members of the general audience agree that the Sequel Trilogy is being told from a feminine perspective. Maybe you hate it and can’t stop whinging about Kathleen Kennedy’s “man-hating agenda” *eyeroll* or maybe your reaction is more F*CKING FINALLY, but either way, the centering of a female protagonist and the fact that Leia is the only surviving member of the OT trio going into TROS clearly demonstrate that it is their hopes and dreams that are driving the story. We have to ask ourselves, what does Rey want, and will she get it? What does Leia want, and will she get it?

**Major trigger warnings for abandonment, loss of parents, terminal illness, suicide mention, and loss of child. Please take care of yourself and skip this post if need be.**

Rey, we know, is an abandoned child. Left alone on a barren planet to pick through the bones of the fallen Empire, she had to fend for herself when she was at her most vulnerable, with no one to comfort her and only the delusional belief that her family would return for her to keep her going despite the intense loneliness. She did find friends in BB-8, Finn, and Han, but Han was quickly snatched away and she left poor Finn in a coma to go find Luke Skywalker. Her story was clearly unfinished by the end of The Force Awakens, her loneliness unassuaged and her growth merely beginning. If friendship were truly all she needed to be whole, then her story would have been over then.

I have a friend, whom let’s call E, an only child whose mother died of cancer when she was a teenager. Now that she is in her 30s, E’s father just passed away as well. She now finds herself orphaned, except everyone treats her like it’s not as big a deal because she’s an adult. But she has no partner, no children, no siblings, not even a roommate, and even her cat has recently passed away. The remaining family she does have is distant and seems mostly to judge her or to want her to conform to their idea of who she should be, how she should grieve, etc. E does have a few good friends, but they are all married and/or have children and this is a constant and painful reminder to E that she does NOT have a family like this. She suffers daily, furious that people act like she should be content with just friends. She tries to explain over and over that there is nothing that compares to a partner, someone with whom she could share the deepest physical and spiritual intimacy, who would choose her and be devoted to her, and into whom she could pour all of the love she has to give. She tries further to explain that even if she puts her friends first, they can’t put HER first because she is not their spouse nor their children; there is no one on earth for whom SHE comes first. E is on medication for depression and anxiety, and has had to back out of her friends’ weddings when they triggered a panic attack. As her friend, I feel powerless to help her in her bottomless loneliness, because I know I can’t give her the one thing she needs, which is the companionship of a romantic partner.

This is Rey. Scarred by the loss of her family and a lifetime without intimate companionship, she cannot be healed by friendship alone when those friends will still inevitably have families who come first. She can’t find intimacy with people who don’t relate to her infinite loneliness and feelings of worthlessness. She shouldn’t HAVE to hold parts of herself back, to give her heart but not her body, or her powers but not her soul. Rey, as the hero of the story, deserves to have what she wants most, and what she wants is a family. As an orphaned adult, the only way she will have a family is to find a soulmate, someone who will be bound to her in every way, who can give her children and hope for the future. Not every woman wants this, but many do and Rey certainly does. Rey’s journey constantly centers around LIFE and CONNECTION: she is overwhelmed by the verdant green of Takodana, and surrounded always by life-giving, feminine water. She has connections to every person she meets, but especially to Ben Solo, whom she can touch even across space and time, PHYSICALLY touch because that has meaning, more than simply seeing one another. As a character, Rey is written to experience the fullness of life with an intimate romantic partner, and there is only one person in the story who is her equal. Reylo has to happen for Rey’s journey to reach a satisfying conclusion, and for Star Wars to remain true to its message of hope.

Then there is Leia. Throughout the entire saga, she is the symbol of hope. When Padme lies dying, her children become her hope for the future. Years later, Leia carries the hope of the Rebellion as she escapes Scarif with the Death Star plans. She brings hope to her brother Luke. Her hope helps her rescue Han Solo from Jabba the Hutt, and then again help the Rebellion to victory on Endor. Her hope helps build the new Republic, found the Resistance, search for Luke, beg Han to reach their son, and continue leading the Resistance even when they are beaten and dwindling.

And through it all, Leia has suffered loss after loss.... after loss. Her parents, childhood friends, home, everything and everyone she ever knew or loved.... were snuffed out in an instant when Alderaan was destroyed. That’s honestly a loss on a scale that is unimaginable. It’s like being made an orphan a thousand times over, because everything that might have been a happy memory is gone. She suffered repeated losses throughout the Galactic Civil War, and saw many soldiers go to their deaths. Her son was lost to the Dark Side, her brother abandoned her, her husband left, and then her son killed her husband. Next, she lost more loyal soldiers, and when Luke suddenly returned, he passed away, too. Given all of that, what does Leia still want? What COULD she still want?

For years, I have followed a blogger on social media. Let’s call her L. Like E, her life has been marked by loss: she never knew her father, had an absent and abusive mother, became pregnant at a young age by a man who did not stay with her, and so was a single teenaged mother of a baby boy by the time she was seventeen. L experienced failed romances, had more children, stepchildren, and grandchildren, and experienced several of those children pulling away from her. Finally, her beloved aunt and uncle, who had cared for her throughout her difficult childhood and were more like parents to her, passed away within the same year. Only a few months later, her eldest son, now a young man, committed suicide at home.

Many people choose to grieve privately. L did not, and her pain.... there really aren’t words. I felt that I could not turn away, that I had to witness what she shared and know, even a little bit, the depths of human suffering. I have a young son, and as I watched L share pictures of her little boy around a similar age.... I could only think that none of us is immune from such loss. At any moment, our children could be snatched away in the cruelest of ways, and what would we not do to bring them back? Worse, if possible, for L was acknowledging the historic family cycles of trauma that had contributed to her son’s despair. She found herself asking if she shared any responsibility for his death, and wondering if she had failed him as a mother. She knew on a conscious level that his choices were his own, but still the doubt and guilt gnawed at her. Agony upon agony, sorrow upon sorrow, a horrible unending night.

L is very religious. Understandably, she had a crisis of faith after her son’s death, not least because she did not know if his suicide meant they would be separated even in eternity. She studied, prayed, and consulted with spiritual advisors for years, and eventually concluded that his soul is not in her hands, and so all she can do is hope. She will pray and hope that he is waiting for her in heaven, and live her life in such a way that she will be reunited with him after death. L still has doubts and moments of deep darkness, especially as she sees the painful ripples from her son’s loss spread into her marriage, her children’s lives, her grandchildren’s lives. But she survives with hope for reunion, and I believe in a benevolent God who will give her her heart’s desire.

Star Wars MUST give Princess Leia Organa, its avatar of hope, the one remaining wish of her heart. When everything and everyone else in the galaxy whom she has loved has been taken from her, she MUST have this one thing. Her hope for her beloved son Ben must not be in vain. The Force has to reward Leia with everything she desires for Ben: his return to the Light, his return to life, the joy and love which every mother wishes for her child. For all that the Skywalker family has suffered in their long darkness, their last son must live the full life they have all been denied. And Leia - Daughter, Princess, Leader, Lover, Mother - must have the ultimate victory. Nothing else will satisfy.

I know this all sounds very melodramatic but I don’t give a damn. E and L deserve the fantasy wish fulfillment that may not be granted them in this life. Star Wars, at its best, can do this, and that’s why I love it.

[echoeternally]

If There Are No Survivors...

Should no winner arise from the poll, or if the highest vote tally falls to the option against the heroes, then the scenes that follow will fill the story as the rest of the cast continues to move on without their allies.

Unlike other moments from other pages, these scenes may occur regardless of the winner, but will carry heavier weights should none of the characters return.

Brief descriptions and scene titles will be included below!

Fair warning: There is some content dealing with death below as well.

Second warning: This post is long to depict several developing scenes!

... ... ...

Tantalizing Roses

A stream of conscious as Chesnaught reflects on his fallen friends before the dark blue roses that haunt him months later.

...

My eyes fell onto the gelid blue roses, set next to the vase with bluebells. Tightening my fist, I strode over to them, and my body twitched as I approached. Greninja had wanted them together like that, pairing off the joy from our flowers, when I first publicly declared my feelings for him...and the roses in memory of our friends.

According to the legends that we were told, these roses were meant to bloom only for a couple that attained an impossible love, one that was strong and enduring. Though mostly a myth to many, since you’d have to be out in the Frozen Fields of the Iceberg Empire to witness their growth, we were around for their emergence between us and our friends, Machamp and Alakazam.

For Greninja and I, they had grown out a bit, but...they wouldn’t emerge outright. With Machamp and Alakazam, they practically commanded the roses to rise up whenever they desired, first discovering them upon a reunion, and then gathering them when we had time off every so often.

While they aren’t the first flowers that I’ve grown to dislike, they are perhaps the cruelest that I know of.

Closing my eyes, I can only see the joy and laughter of my friends that were kings of the roses. Their eyes were bright and smiling whenever they gifted bouquets to one another. Machamp and Alakazam. Friends that were near and dear to us, and two that we lost during the war.

Forcing my tearing eyes open, I glared at the blue roses, a symbol meant for love, but one that’s constantly marred by death.

And I wonder if that is their true purpose.

Some stories that I’ve read, ones that I don’t tell Greninja that I’ve uncovered; they are stated as strictly that: blue roses of mystery that rise up for those marked by death. Flowers that weren’t a gift of love and longing from a lover separated, but instead one that sought to caution others that could fall for a similar fate...one where love doesn’t triumph, but instead anguish does.

Neither sides of the story are treated seriously, of course. But, since we’re directly connected to these flowers...I do wonder...

... ... ...

If Only

Arriving to the Mountains Monarchy, Greninja and his allies assess the daunting cluster of mountains that they’ll be climbing.

...

“Looks like that will be a steep climb up the mountain for us.” Typhlosion snorted. “Fantastic. I’m sure we’re all looking forward to that.”

“Several mountains to ascend and explore,” corrected Samurott. He smirked to Typhlosion, who turned away from him, and he did the same. “Um. It does sound a bit tedious, I suppose.”

“We’ll do what’s required of us,” insisted Rhydon. “We are guests, but we also need to prove ourselves.”

“Shame that we can’t just Teleport up there.” Hypno rolled his eyes as he folded his arms back. “You happen to know that one, Gardevoir?”

“No.” She glared at him, but he merely shrugged.

“Too bad. That certainly would’ve been useful here.”

Though I know he didn’t mean it, suggesting that was like a punch to my gut. I wanted to proudly tell him about my best friend from the Iceberg Empire that would have made short work of that. But there’s little point.

“Greninja?” I blinked and jerked my head up. Gardevoir had turned her attention to me and softened up. “Are you all right?”

Blinking, I hadn’t even noticed the tears that slipped out. I brushed them away and nodded.

... ... ...

Unexplored Reunion

Mienshao meets with someone from Quagsire’s past, as they lament him.

...

“You’re...Feraligatr, correct?”

“Hm?” He blinked and tilted his head at Mienshao, who slowly approached him. “Yeah, that’s me. I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t. But, someone that I knew, he...” Mienshao glanced down at the paper in his hand. “When you were younger, there was once a Wooper you might have encountered.” His hand trembled as he gripped the letter. “You were with a rather rude pair back in Grass Fields. Back then, when they were picking on him and a Budew--”

“Wait a second.” Feraligatr blinked and rubbed his chin. “Wooper from Grass Fields...” He snapped his fingers. “Oh my gods! I think...I think I remember that!” He grinned and laughed. “Those two were terrible! That poor Wooper tried to defend Budew, but...” Feraligatr shook his head. “Anyway, I wasn’t much better for being around them, but I didn’t want to do any harm.”

“Yes, that was part of the story.”

“Wow, that’s crazy!” Placing his hands on his hips, Feraligatr grinned to Mienshao. “Do you know about that Wooper kid then?”

“I knew him as Quagsire,” reminisced Mienshao. “Kind, gentle, a love for food...quiet...”

“Wow, he evolved and went up to the Iceberg Empire to join the Emperor’s ranks? That’s great!” He laughed. “That’s such a long way for him to have climbed up. Hey, do you think you could give him a message? I’ve always wanted to apologize about that day.” He sighed and deflated a bit. “I wish I had done more, and I wish I could’ve reached out after.”

“Standing up to your friends was admirable enough for him.”

“Really?”

“He actually wanted to tell you that himself.” Mienshao relaxed his grip and stared down at the letter. “I only recently learned that he had looked into you, but he wanted to find the right words to reach out to you with...” A tear slipped from his eye. “He was planning on asking me for help, and I never knew.”

“That’s ok,” soothed Feraligatr. He patted Mienshao’s shoulder. “We can just talk after things are sorted out here, and maybe that can help with the Monarchy’s relationship to the Empire!”

“I’m afraid he can’t.”

“Huh?”

“Back home, with our war...he didn’t...”

Mienshao swallowed hard and brushed at his eyes. Feraligatr leaned back and his cheery demeanor, his hope, faded. Unable to continue, Mienshao lifted the letter to him.

“Oh.” Feraligatr slowly took the paper and stared at it. “I understand.” He exhaled slowly as he sank down. “So he wanted to reach out...and I...” His arm dropped as Feraligatr’s head fell. “I won’t even get to apologize. Or really know him for who he is...”

... ... ...

Otherworldly Offerings

Speaking with Dusknoir, Greninja is offered some comforts from the priest.

...

“There are a number of spirits that linger associated with you.”

“Yeah, I...I gathered.” How many I actually wanted to talk to would be a different question.

Dusknoir drifted over and leaned closer to me. His red eye settled on me as his hand fell onto my shoulder. There was already a glow from around his head; I don’t think it was really up to me to choose who we’d commune with.

“You expect only pain from this?”

“Talking with spirits that know me, yes.” I glanced behind me, at the dark woods beyond the ruined cathedral. “For someone that’s killed, several times...what am I supposed to expect?”

“Comfort, closure perhaps.”

“That’s doubtful, but thank you.”

“There are many vengeful spirits that reside in the world beyond, I assure you of such,” admitted Dusknoir. “But, you can perhaps find others that remain behind because they seek to help those they left behind. Their unfinished business is to help, not harm.”

“Except I don’t have that from anyone.” I gazed up to him. “Those that died only blame me.”

“Perhaps it may surprise you to learn this, but that is far from the truth.” He spiraled back and held his arms out, a bright blue mist forming around him. “In fact, I have two such souls that are begging to speak with you, because they know you need to hear it from them.”

“Hear what?”

“That it’s not your fault.”

Bowing to me and drifting behind the mist that surrounded my space, I twisted around to look for the others. As I faced back where Dusknoir had been, though, I didn’t find him, but two other ghosts that stood in his place.

Poliwrath and Politoed’s shapes formed in the space of the mist, and I choked on my breath.

... ... ...

Stolen Souls

For the climactic journey’s end, Chesnaught battles against Gengar...and her twisted choice of allies. 

...

“If I’m being entirely honest, I am curious.” Gengar grinned as I tightened my fist. “What’s it like, to have that kind of raw power residing within you?” She drifted back and snapped her fingers. “How about I test it from a Shade of mine?”

Before her rose a shadow from the ground, and my jaw dropped from its shape. Four arms, no mistaking it: she summoned Machamp. Or...his spirit...essence...whatever, that was my friend.

“Let him go!”

“Eeheehee...why would I do that?” Gengar’s eyes widened. “This power...it’s magnificent!”

Orange energy lit up the dark shadowy form, and Gengar snapped her fingers again. Chi rose from Machamp’s Shade, and drifted to Gengar’s hands. She focused them together and aimed at me.

“Let’s see which of you two is truly stronger, shall we?”

Her focused energy blasted from her hands and I dove aside to evade it. Rolling around, I lifted my blade, but my hands shook at sight of Machamp’s figure. Even if he’s not doing anything, even if it’s not entirely him, I can’t just...

“Not quite as entertaining as making you fight your friend,” mocked Gengar. “But, it does come quite close, don’t you think?” The witch cackled as she danced through the air, swaying her shadowy hands around. She can’t get away with this. “Which of the others should I call upon next? One of the frogs? That oaf salamander?”

“Stop!”

“Oh, no. I know the perfect one next...”

... ... ... ... ...

(Remember, these are scenes in development. However, this is what you can look forward to, should there be no winner of the poll. Perhaps that’s what kind of drama the readers might prefer!)

(Head back to the poll here!)

(Still not sure or want to read more? Check back here!)

[crimethinc]

What Is Burning the Amazon? A Plea from Brazilian Anarchists

As the fires in the Amazon rainforest continue to burn, our comrades in Brazil have sent us this analysis of the causes of the catastrophe and how it should inform our vision of the future.

“I worry about whether the whites will resist. We have been resisting for 500 years.”

—Ailton Krenak

Living Dystopia

The scene is gloomy. On August 19, 2019, smoke covers cities across the state of São Paulo, turning day into night at 3 pm. The previous day, in Iceland, people organized the first funeral, complete with a gravestone and a minute of silence, for a glacier declared dead. The smoke that engulfed São Paulo is caused by forest fires in the Amazon Forest far away in the North of Brazil; the glacier has disappeared due to rising temperatures related to the carbon dioxide accumulating in the atmosphere.

Chief of the Tenharim people of southern Amazonas fighting wildfire.

These tragic scenes—almost picturesque, almost absurd—could sound comical if they weren’t real. They are so extreme that they remind us of fictional scenarios such as those described in the novel And Still the Earth, a Brazilian environmental dystopia by Ignácio de Loyloa Brandão. Written in the 1970s during the military dictatorship in Brazil, the book describes a fictitious dictatorial regime known as “Civiltar,” which celebrates cutting down the last tree in the Amazon with a jingoistic declaration that it has created “a desert greater than that of the Sahara.” In this story, all the Brazilian rivers are dead; jugs of water from each of the extinct rivers are displayed in a hydrographic museum. Aluminum can dunes and highways permanently blocked by the shells of abandoned cars are the backdrop of São Paulo. The city itself suffers from sudden heat pockets capable of killing any unsuspecting person; mysterious diseases consume the citizens, especially the homeless.

The author claims that he was inspired by real events that seemed absurd and unusual at the time. Today, these are becoming ever more ordinary.

News of the increased burning of the Amazon has sent shockwaves around the world. Burns rose 82% in 2019 over the same period last year in Brazil, according to the National Institute for Space Research, and new outbreaks of fire are still being reported as we write. The catastrophic images of destruction have fueled the indignation of people around the world who are concerned about the future of life on earth, seeing how important the Amazon rainforest is for climate regulation and global biodiversity. Images of the fires compelled French President Emmanuel Macron to bring the subject to the G7 summit and to exchange barbs with President Jair Bolsonaro in the media after France offered millions of dollars in funds to fight forest fires.

Protest against deforestation in the Amazon, in São Paulo, August 23, 2019.

Since the end of 2018, half a billion bees have been found dead in four Brazilian states. The death of these insects that are essential to fertilizing 75% of the vegetables we eat is linked to the use of pesticides banned in Europe but permitted in Brazil. In August 2019, the court dismissed the charges against a farmer who used pesticides thrown from a plane as a chemical weapon against Guyra Kambi’y indigenous community in Mato Grosso do Sul in 2015. The same month, groups of farmers, “land grabbers” [people who falsify documents in order to obtain ownership of land], union members, and traders used a Whatsapp group to coordinate setting fires in the municipality of Altamira, Pará, the epicenter of fires consuming the Amazon rainforest. As reported in Folha do Progresso, the “day of the fire” was organized by people encouraged by the words of Jair Bolsonaro: “The goal, according to one of the leaders speaking anonymously, is to show the president that they want to work.”

The recent wave of fires linking President Jair Bolsonaro’s policies to attacks against forests, peasant farmers, and indigenous peoples is an intensification of a process as old as the colonization of the Americas. While the Workers’ Party (PT) was still in power, many projects were introduced to expand and accelerate growth, including the construction of the Belo Monte plant, which displaced and impacted indigenous communities and thousands of other people living in the countryside. The approval of the Forest Code in 2012 enabled farmers to advance over indigenous territories and nature reserves with impunity, while suspending the demarcation of new protected lands.

Both left and right governments see nature and human life chiefly as resources with which to produce commodities and profit. The government of Bolsonaro, a declared enemy of the common people, women, and indigenous groups, doesn’t just threaten us with the physical violence of police repression. In declaring that he will no longer recognize any indigenous land, Bolsonaro is intensifying a war on the ecosystems that make human life possible—a war that long precedes him.

A 500-Year-Running Disaster

For centuries, we have struggled to survive the greatest disaster of our time, a disaster that threatens the sustainability of all the biomes and communities on this planet. Its name is capitalism—the cruelest, most inequitable, and destructive economic system in history. This threat is not the result of the inevitable forces of nature. Humans created it and humans can eliminate it.

Anarchists in Sao Paulo on August 23, 2019 protesting against the government and against the deforestation of the Amazon: “Burn fascists, not forests!”

In Brazil, we have witnessed firsthand how this system exploits people, promotes genocide, and degrades and pollutes the earth, water, and air. Even if we ultimately manage to abolish it, we will still have to survive the consequences of letting it go on for so long. The destruction of entire ecosystems, the poisons in rivers and in our own bodies, the species that have gone extinct, the glaciers that have disappeared, the forests that have been cut down and paved over—these consequences will remain for many years to come. In the future, we will have to survive by gathering what we need from the ruins and waste that this system has left in its wake. All the material that has been torn from the ground to be strewn across the earth’s surface and dumped into the seas will not return overnight to the depths it came from.

Recognizing this should inform how we envision our revolutionary prospects. It is foolish to imagine that the abolition of capitalism will expand that the consumer activities that are currently available to the global bourgeoisie to the entire human population; we must stop fantasizing about a regulated post-capitalist world with infinite resources to generate the sort of commodities that capitalist propaganda has led us to desire. Rather, we will have to experiment in ways to share the self-management of our lives amid the recovery of our biomes, our relationships, and our bodies after centuries of aggression and exploitation—organizing life in regions that have become hostile to it.

The ways we organize our resistance today should be informed by the fact that our revolutionary experiments will not be taking place in a world of peace, stability, and balance. We will be struggling to survive in the midst of the consequences of centuries of pollution and environmental degradation. The best-case scenario for the future will look like the situation in Kobanê in 2015: a victorious revolution in a bombed-out city full of mines.

Last stand: neither utopias nor dystopias—revolution!

So What Is Burning the Amazon?

There is a consensus among scientific researchers, government institutions, social movements, and rural and urban peoples regarding the impacts and risks of global warming and increasing industrialization and urbanization. Some of these consequences are about to become irreversible. The deforestation of the Amazon itself may become irreparable if it reaches 40% of its total area.

It has never worked to demand that governments solve these problems for us—and it never will. This is especially foolish when we are talking about the environmental disasters caused by their own policies. Land seizures and the deforestation of the Amazon are inextricably interlinked with the organized criminal enterprises that smuggle and kill in the countryside. Fully 90% of the timber harvested is contraband supported by a vast apparatus of illegal capitalism involving armed militias and the state itself.

Populist leaders like Bolsonaro aim to benefit from the unfolding ecological catastrophe at the same time that they deny it is occurring. On the one hand, they claim that there is no need for action to curb global warming—alongside Trump, Bosonaro was the only other leader who threatened to abandon the Paris Agreement, claiming that global warming is a “fable for environmentalists.” This helps to mobilize the far-right base, which admires and celebrates outright dishonesty as a demonstration of political power. On the other hand, as the consequences of climate chaos and environmental imbalances become obvious undeniable facts, these leaders will opportunistically take advantage of environmental crises, product shortages, refugee migrations, and climate disasters such as hurricanes as pretexts to accelerate the implementation of ever more authoritarian measures in the fields of health, transportation and security. Using authoritarian and militarized means to determine who can have access to the resources they need to survive in a context of widespread scarcity is what many theorists have called ecofascism.

The intervention of foreign states in the Amazon forests according to their own economic interests is simply the continuation of the colonialism that began in 1492. No government will solve the problem of fires and deforestation. At best, they might slow the impact of the exploitation they have always engaged in. Neoliberal capitalism demands endless growth, mandating the transformation of forests and soil into competitive consumer goods on the global market.

So what is burning the Amazon—and the entire planet? The answer is clear: the pursuit of land, profit (legal or not), and private property. None of this will be changed by any elected or imposed government. The only truly environmental perspective is a revolutionary perspective seeking the end of capitalism and the state itself.

Mundurukus warriors without state support set out for direct action to expel loggers from the Sawré Mybu Indigenous Land in Pará.

Exercising Our Ability to Imagine

The dystopian images of And Still the Earth and George Orwell’s novel 1984 were intended as warnings: exaggerated projections of the worst that can happen if we fail to change the course of history. Today, with cameras around every corner and our own TVs and cell phones carrying out surveillance on us, it is as if these dystopian novels are being used as a handbook for governments and corporations to bring our worst nightmares into reality.

Dystopias are warnings; but utopias, by definition, represent places that do not exist. We need other places, places that are possible. We need to be able to imagine a different world—and to imagine ourselves, our desires, and our relationships being different as well.

We should use the creativity that enables us to picture zombie apocalypses and other literary or cinematic calamities to imagine a reality beyond capitalism right now and begin building it. Today, as reality surpasses fiction, our activities are largely characterized by disbelief and passivity. But you cannot be neutral on a moving train—especially not one that is accelerating on a track into the abyss. Crossing your arms is complicity. Likewise, acting individually is insufficient because it maintains the logic that has brought us here.

We have to rediscover revolutionary reference points for self-organized and egalitarian collective life. We need to share examples of real societies that have resisted the state and capitalism, such as the anarchist experiments during the Russian and Ukrainian Revolutions of 1917 and the Spanish Revolution of 1936. We should remember, also, that all of these were ultimately betrayed and crushed by, or with the connivance of, the Bolshevik Party and the Stalinist dictatorship that followed it, which carried out unprecedented industrialization and the mass displacement of agrarian peoples. This illustrates why it is so important to develop a way of imagining that does not simply replicate the visions of capitalist industrialism.

We can also look to contemporary examples like the Zapatista Uprising in Mexico since 1994 and the ongoing revolution in Rojava in northern Syria. But in addition to the examples offered by anarchists or influenced by anarchist principles, we should learn from the many the indigenous nations around us: Guaranis, Mundurukus, Tapajós, Krenaks, and many others who have ceaselessly resisted European and capitalist colonial expansion for five centuries. They are all living examples from whom anarchists can learn about life, organization, and resistance without and against the state.

If there is any fundamental basis for solidarity in response to the attack on the foundation of all life in the Amazon, it is the potential that we can build connections between the social movements, the poor, and excluded of the world and the indigenous and peasant peoples of all Latin America. To put a halt to the deforestation underway in the Amazon and countless similar forms of destruction that are taking place across the planet, we must nourish grassroots movements that reject the neoliberal resource management of soil, forests, waters, and people.

For a solidarity between all peoples and exploited classes, not between paternalism and the colonialism of governments! The only way to address the environmental crisis and global climate change is to abolish capitalism!

Another end of the world is possible!

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: The Volturi

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The Twilight Saga is one of the most intriguing works of literature of the 21st century, particularly how it has a rich, expansive cast of characters with interesting backstories and motives that get sidelined for the story of the two most generic characters in the entire tale. This is apparent mainly in the Cullens – Carlisle, Jasper, and Alice especially – but it also does hit the villains particularly hard as well.

The Volturi are the most powerful coven in the world of Twilight, essentially the lawmakers and royals who govern all other vampires. For 3000 years, they’ve governed over the vampire rule with iron fists, stamping out anything that might expose the existence of vampires to humans. Their word is unquestioned by the vampires of Earth, their justice is swift to those who break their laws, and their three leaders – Aro, Caius, and Marcus – are forces to be reckoned with.

Naturally, they never receive any sort of comeuppance and are relegated to minor, supporting roles in the story. But what a role they have, and how oh so very interesting they end up being even with their limited interactions with the central cast.

Actor: Aro, the conniving leader, is portrayed by Michael Sheen in the films; naturally, he is the best character of the lot, because Michael Sheen is just a treasure and much of what he touches turns to gold. He really puts forth that charming, affable front Aro needs while giving that beautiful undercurrent of manipulative sleaziness that makes Aro a fan-favorite villain.  As Todd in the Shadows said on Twitter, “The first TWILIGHT gives Michael Sheen the least to do (he's only given a meager zero seconds of screen time, what a waste). He's also not in ECLIPSE (the best movie in the series) but I feel much happier knowing that he at least exists in this universe,”

Jamie Campbell Bower, best known for playing the twink from Sweeney Todd, is Caius, and while this might seem rather silly, the juxtaposition of how absolutely gorgeous Caius is and how absolutely, horrifyingly evil he is just really makes him a more enjoyable villain. Sadly he does not quite steal the show to the extent that Aro does, but expecting other actors to be Michael Sheen is not a good thing to do in the first place.

Christopher Heyerdahl rounds out the trio as Marcus, and while he has the absolute least to do as Marcus is such a depressed slug he does nothing of note in the books or movies, he does at least accurately portray the uncomfortable melancholy and abject boredom Marcus feels in a way that I feel is rather overlooked. As little as he contributes on a surface level, I do feel that the Volturi would be missing something with Marcus and his glum demeanor hanging around, so props to Heyerdahl to adding that extra little spice to the trio, even if it is ultimately easy to miss.

Motivation/Goals: Their goal is simple: to rule over vampires and ensure the species is not wiped out by ensuring they stay in the shadows and don’t overfeed as well as ensuring to keep the numbers in check and recruiting powerful allies to their cause. Their rule is such that even the mere mention of their name can strike fear into the hearts of vampires, and their law is so ingrained in vampire culture that the rules are passed down from vampire to vampire with ease. And yes, if all this sounds totally reasonable, I do agree in principle; the problem is, at least in Aro and Caius’ cases, they are power-hungry psychopaths who seem to be going a bit mad from ruling for about three thousand years.

Aro in particular has gone way beyond the pale in his desire to rule, down to murdering his own sister so that he can manipulate Marcus into ruling with him, while Caius is just an out-and-out psychopath who enjoys violence and torture. Marcus is really the only one who gets away relatively clean, as he is just too depressed and bored to do much of anything, but it’s not like he really argues against what his co-rulers do.

Personality: Aro stands out the most, thanks to be cheery, outgoing, and friendly in his dealings with Bella and the Cullens, but of course this is all but a front; he is a tyrannical vampire dictator after all. He’s also a little bit loopy after thousands of years of exerting his rule, which certainly is evident in how Michael Sheen portrays him. I think what really seals the deal on his true nature is the fact he murdered his own sister, who his friend Marcus loved, just to keep him in the Volturi, and to this day Marcus has never discovered his lover’s killer, never known that he is always right nearby posing as his friend. With actions like that, Aro certainly seals himself in as the most wicked of the Volturi, a tall feat considering Caius.

Caius is absolutely cruel and merciless. He always advocates for the cruelest methods in any given situation, he never wants to take the peaceful route, and if the opportunity arises in which he can end something in violence, he will take it; look how he resolved things in Breaking Dawn where, unsatisfied with a peaceful resolution, he gained a compromise by slaughtering the vampire Irina. He is certainly the most outwardly evil of the three.

Marcus is the least developed, but there’s actually a good story reason for this: he’s bored and depressed due to the death of his beloved, and really feels like he only goes along with Aro because he is his brother-in-law.

Final Fate: Shockingly, the Volturi not only don’t really suffer any sort of setback in Breaking Dawn, they leave peacefully; Aro does witness all of them dying in the most epically gruesome ways possible in a vision, but that doesn’t exactly count, so despite all they do they receive absolutely no comeuppance for their centuries of cruel actions. Aro and Caius really have it coming, to be honest, so it’s a shame that the vision was, well, a vision.

And though they do end up leaving peacefully, there is a catch; they are not exactly pleased with the Cullens for their actions. Kind of makes you wonder if the idyllic little happy ending of Edward and Bella’s will one day be rudely interrupted by the armies of the Volturi holding them down and forcing them to submit or die. We can only dream…

Best Scene: The trouble with the Volturi is that they are almost always all together, but by god, does their death scenes in the vision from Breaking Dawn: Part 2 really take the cake. Bella and Edward tag team Aro and end up decapitating him and then immolating his head, poor Marcus just accepts his fate and commits suicide by allowing himself to be torn apart, and Caius gets the single most brutal death in the franchise where they tear the entire top half of his head off. And it is just as brutal and horrifying as it sounds. Considering how they get away scot free with all of their heinous actions, this is pure and utter catharsis, though let’s be real, poor Marcus did not deserve that. Shame it was all just a vision.

Best Quote: Aro has easily one of the best quotes in the whole series, and it’s really not a quote: it is the utterly hilarious laugh he gives in the second Breaking Dawn film. Witness it for yourself and you will understand. I for one can’t even comprehend how a human being could possibly make a sound like that with their mouth, but by God did Michael Sheen find a way to do it. Frankly, it makes up for the fact the other two really have nothing particularly noteworthy to say.

Final Thoughts & Score: I think the Volturi are some of the best characters Stephanie Meyers created, and I find it a shame that she never really does anything with them other than have them steal every scene they’re in. It’s so weird, because we are so obviously supposed to be rooting against them due to them constantly getting in the way of the Culllens, but as evil and manipulative as they are… it’s hard to argue with some of the points they make. Like their most major and important rule is that vampires not be noticed by humans, and they make sure to regulate numbers of vampires so they don’t cause their stock to dwindle. Considering the behavior of a lot of other villainous vampires in the series, it’s hard to really paint them in a negative light. These guys are pretty much the only thing holding their entire race back from a self-destructive war with humans they know would not end well for them, so are they really that unreasonable?

I’d argue no, at least in theory. It’s pretty inarguable Caius and especially Aro are ruthless and power-hungry, desiring nothing more than to have total control over the vampire world, which they have gone out of their way to ensure they keep control of over the past 3000 years, with the open defiance of the Cullens being the big snarl. But the fact that Bella, Edward, and Renesmee all come across as ridiculously bland, obnoxious, unsympathetic, and creepy makes it really easy to root for them and wish they’d succeed. And of course, the fact that they have Michael Sheen portraying their leader in the films only exacerbates this; it’s the same sort of issue Ferngully had, really.

Aro is easily a 9/10, a testament to how good Meyers could be if she knew where to focus her writing as well as a testament to the fact that Michael Sheen is just an absolute blast. His performance steals the show from everyone else, and he easily overshadows his compatriots; combine that with just how evil and manipulative he is and you have a delightfully devilish vampiric villian. Frankly, Sheen really does deserve most of the credit, because he is able to not only carry the Volturi scenes due to Aro talking the most in them, he manages to make the others look cooler just by being in close proximity to him. They don’t have to do anything, just the fact they’re working alongside this manipulative loon is enough to make them cool.

Caius is a solid 8/10. While he’s nowhere near as hammy and enjoyable as Aro, he is just so disgustingly, unrepetantly evil and cruel it’s not hard to be a fan of him. Combine that with the fact he’s such a gorgeous man, a stark contrast to his hideous black heart, and you have quite a villain, even if he doesn’t quite reach the levels Aro does. The fact that he gets the coolest death in the entire series (even if it doesn’t actually happen for real) really is just icing on the cake.

Marcus is a bit tricky. He really lacks any sort of presence, he’s sort of a non-entity, and he frankly feels like a waste of a character. Here is a character who, with what his backstory reveals, would be a perfect candidate for a turn against his fellow Volturi and perhaps lead to a grand full-scale vampire war in which the Cullens overthrow the “oppressive” government. And Meyers does absolutely nothing with this, and the movies don’t really do anything with it either. Still, I do like the backstory given in supplementary material, and he just seems so sad and miserable all the time; you really get the feel of the tragedy of this character, even if you don’t necessarily have it spelled outright to you. I think he deserves a 5/10 at the least, because I love his concept, backstory, and just general sadness, but so little is done with him I can’t justify giving him anything higher.

It says a lot about how accidentally great the Volturi are that even the guy who barely does anything at all except look sad still gets to be average at worst, though. I don’t think Meyers really comprehended what she had on her hands with these guys, but their actors sure did, and the fans realized more than her, and altogether the Volturi have become one of the most popular parts of the series. And really, they deserve it, as they are portrayed perfectly (especially Aro, though I’m sure I’ve stressed that enough) and steal every single scene they are in. The whole Twilight Saga is so overdone, overdramatic, and campy that this trio of utterly extra vampire dictators are not only the logical step for the villains of this tacky romantic tale, they make the story infinitely better by existing in it.

[snkpolls]

SnK S3E20 Poll Results (Manga Reader Version)

The poll closed with 287 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results of the manga reader poll. Anime only watchers are suggested not to read if you do not wish to be spoiled about certain events! Anime only viewers, click here to view your poll results!

RATE THE EPISODE 279 Responses

This episode was another hit with most viewers, with 74.6% of participants ranking it 5 out of 5.

Just brilliant. Best series.

This was the first episode I’d been excited for in weeks. With the serum bowl I was dreading the last three episodes but the Marley Arc is my fave and I’m super super excited for what comes next in the anime.

The music was incredible and Grisha's VA stole the show.

The best of this season yet!

This season has now given us 2 (two) episodes WITHOUT openings and both times the episodes blew me away. I’m so stoked for the fourth season

I'd say it was a pretty solid episode. I can't believe we've finally made it to Marley, I am so not ready for the nonstop angst that is to come…

Anime quality was ass again, but the plot and voice acting make this a fantastic episode overall

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING SCENES WAS THE MOST MEMORABLE? 282 Responses

There were several informative and memorable scenes. 45.7% of participants thought Kruger’s big reveal was the highlight, while 12.1% can’t decide what stuck out the most. 9.9% of participants felt Dina becoming the Smiling Titan made the biggest impression.

DO YOU THINK GRISHA’S FATHER WAS RIGHT IN EASILY DEMEANING HIMSELF AND GRISHA TO GROSS? 270 Responses

Though Grisha’s father yielded to the Marleyan police regarding Faye’s death, 77.4% of participants believed he was right to prevent the rest of his family meeting a similar fate. 15.6% thought he should have shown a bit of resistance towards Gross’s accusations. Many in the comments agree the situation is simply not that black and white.

It's not whether it's 'right' or 'wrong' in these situations - if your options are the death of your family or satisfying your own feelings of dignity, then I think it's up to the individual what their priority is. But I think it is not a sign of weakness to put your family first.

He probably hated himself for doing it (at least I'd do), but losing another loved one would be horrible for anyone in his situation, so I can understand why he did that.

I can't really answer with clear 'yes' or 'no'. On one side, He was right to protect the rest of his family, on the other... He could try to comfort Grisha in a better way (you know, not yelling at him to be silent)

No, but I think he could’ve dealt with Grisha more privately. He didn’t have to continue with his indoctrination of Grisha.

I think it's complicated

no one is right or wrong here.

SERGEANT MAJOR GROSS STATED THAT “PEOPLE LOSE TOUCH WITH LIFE AND DEATH AND START TAKING THEIR LIVES FOR GRANTED." DO YOU THINK THERE IS TRUTH TO WHAT HE SAYS? 283 Responses

Gross told Grisha that people took their lives for granted when losing touch with life and death. 60.4% of participants think there is truth to his words even if his actions are morbid. 27.2% believe he just said this to excuse his cruelty.

Idk but him staring into my soul made me unconfortable

That is true, but it doesn't actually justify or support his position. We're SUPPOSED to all have the luxury and privilege of 'taking life for granted', as he puts it - that's why humanity has worked so fucking long to improve society to this point! We shouldn't have to think in life-or-death terms to consider ourselves worthy of living.

There is truth, but it's obvious that it's more words for him justifying his horrible actions more than a maxime which guides his life. If it were so, he wouldn't have been scared and screaming when the titan eat him.

Yes, but he's just making excuses for his sadistic mind.

DO YOU THINK HUMANS IN GENERAL BECOME INTERESTED IN VIOLENCE? 284 Responses

The episode observes humans and their reaction to violence, Gross saying he finds it interesting. 49.6% of participants believe that most people are interested in violence, while 40.1% specify that it depends on how violent the event is.

The most interesting part of the episode is Gross addressing the viewer over making his victim dance. Part of SnK is watching some victim being devored by the lions. Be it Faye to the dogs, Mike to the titans, Eren's squad to the titans in Trost, Carla to Dina, Marco to Araki Titan, Bert to Armin... the reactions however differ. Some of us came to see characters fighting and get eaten by giant monsters, but as the story progressed, our point of view differed and it became disgust for the most part.

HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT GROSS'S DEATH? 281 Responses

Gross’s death was a gruesome one, but 53.4% participants were satisfied he got what they feel he deserved. 17.1% were less comfortable by the irony of the situation, and 13.2% found his struggle enjoyable.

Watching reaction videos where people cheer on Gross getting his face chopped on kinda unsettled me, I'm not gonna lie.

IS FAYE’S DEATH THE CRUELEST MOMENT IN THE SERIES? 282 Responses

Being torn apart by dogs is a disturbing way to go and 46.8% of participants felt it was the cruelest moment of the series thus far. 45.4%, however, believed there were crueler moments worthy of mention.

I didn't think Faye's death was the cruelest because let's face it, Mike's was the absolute worst. :(

GIVEN HOW HE TREATED ZEKE, DO YOU THINK GRISHA IMPROVED AS A FATHER WHEN IT CAME TO EREN? 280 Responses

Though Grisha didn’t show a lot of compassion for Zeke as a son, 55.4% of participants believed he learned to be a better father for Eren as a result. 24.3% would rather have more information before saying for sure, and 20.4% of participants felt Grisha didn’t quite change his ways. 

GRISHA STATED THAT YMIR “BROUGHT BOUNDLESS PROSPERITY” TO THE WORLD. WHEN GRICE QUESTIONED THAT, GRISHA RETORTED WITH THE FACT THAT HE “BELIEVED IN YMIR”. WHAT DO YOU THINK HAPPENED? 282 Responses

There was a mix of histories regarding Ymir Fritz. 50% of participants believed Ymir may have brought prosperity but that Grisha was also jumping to conclusions without context. 40.4% of participants thought Grisha was just seeing what he wanted to see.

Grisha’s va knocked it out of the park this week. The episode made me re-think whether grisha actually could read any of the sacred texts. Was he just BSing the whole way through? Will we ever know what they say in that case?

BEST ROGUE TITAN DESIGN? 282 Responses

Out of the three Rogue titan designs, a majority 62.8% of participants thought Eren’s was the most physically appealing.

Best Rogue Titan design? That's not even a question. ITS ALWAYS ERENS. LOL

HOW FAITHFUL WAS THE ADAPTATION TO THE ORIGINAL MANGA? 276 Responses

A majority of manga readers believed the episode was mostly faithful to the original chapters, with 54.3% believing it was nearly perfect. Others felt the episode could have been more accurate.

Great, pacing was a little quick but I think the anime adaptation explained everything a bit better than the anime. I had to go back and read those chapters like 3 times to fully understand everything lol. I do wish they didn't cut lines from the warrior selection announcement though. Overall great though!

Great adaptation. They should've cut the ending too, so they wouldn't need to cut some parts, but it was as close to perfection either way.

I'm sad that they omitted so much when Marley announces the Marley warrior program. Besides that I think it was an amazing episode.

Was thoroughly impressed with how they managed to adapt two of the most dense chapters into a single ep without any significant cuts. The artwork for the Eldia/Marley lore was gorgeous, and the performances were as expected, phenomenal. Kruger's transformation was breathtaking, as was the OST. Definitely one of the best episodes of the season. Also, Marina Inoue saying "Shingeki no Kyojin" in the preview gave me chills.

KRUGER'S HAIR: BLOND OR BLACK? 282 Responses

Kruger’s hair was colored dirty blond in the anime compared to the darker shade in the manga. 47.5% of participants felt that either color choice worked well for him, while 39.4% preferred his black hair.

kruger is a dirty blonde colour imo ;p

I’m just over the moon to finally see The Owl aka Kruger animated with a voice.

The color scheme in this series has always been weird. Not that Isayama himself is limited palette-wise, but the colors have been much sober than WIT's multicolor fest. Kruger's hair are meant to be black or dark brown. Isayama draws blonde/hazelnut hair with full lines. Same goes with the uniform: Isayama uses frames for dark colors (the SC's green coat ie), ink for black and dark blue. Anime already made odd choices with Mikasa's scarf (black in the manga) or Armin's eyes (brown).

Always thought Kruger was brunette

After last week's preview I thought Kruger with blond hair was weird but having watched this week's episode I think it fits better with the blue uniform and the show's colour palette. Besides, he still looks hot so all is fine lol

HOW DID YOU FEEL ABOUT THE APPEARANCE OF MARLEY? 282 Responses

A majority 60.3% of participants believe Marley’s appearance was just as modern as they expected it. 29.4% of participants thought it appeared more lavished.

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE CENSORSHIP FOR SOME OF THE GRAPHIC SCENES? 283 Responses

Some of the more graphic scenes were censored in the anime, but 53% of participants aren’t bothered by it. 35.7% of participants were disappointed that some parts weren’t shown as a result and 11.3% felt it was appropriate to censor the more graphic scenes.

I don't mind Grisha's penis as well as the gory parts being censored (it's NHK after all), but the censorship comes across as convenient for the series. They omitted some marleyans officers saying Gross was going too far, or masked the details of the warrior program: no full confirmation of RBA being trained into infancy to be promoted at the status of Honorary Marleyans. Conbine that with the RBZ+Pieck scenes from this season being watered down and you have the anime making it even more black and white than the manga.

ISAYAMA ASKED THE ANIME TO HIGHLIGHT GROSS’ SPEECH TO BREAK THE 4TH WALL AS A “CALL OUT” TO THE VIEWER.  WAS THIS DIRECTION SUCCESSFUL? 277 Responses

Gross’s 4th wall break was a request made by Isayama to address the viewer as he spoke. 65.3% of participants felt the direction made them feel more called out than when they originally read it. 24.9% can’t relate to what Gross is saying in the first place.

His eyes that never left the spectator's gaze froze my blood, it was really very successfully made.

I get what Isayama was trying to do but there's a huge difference between being sadistic knowing that it's fictional and being sadistic in real life

Honestly I didn't even know that he broke the 4th wall until I took this poll.

I didn't feel like what he was saying pertained to me because I've always been repulsed by his mentality and justifications.I think it says more about Isayama that he felt this was something that needed to be broadcast to society.

The speech wasn't as well done in the anime. I think he broke the 4th wall in the manga pretty well.

The Gross 4th wall break didn't really deliver in the end. Wish it was more obvious (eye contact, zoom in, voice acting)

It would have been a lot more successful if he'd written the call out to come from someone less sadistic and despicable. It's hard to reflect like that on words that came from a character that had a nine year old child eaten alive by dogs.

considering i had no idea it was meant to be a callout, i'd say it failed

WHAT DO YOU THINK WILL HAPPEN WITH YMIR’S BACKSTORY FLASHBACK NEXT EPISODE? 280 Responses

Since Ymir’s backstory was moved to Season 2, 39.3% believe that Historia reading the letter will show Ymir’s death instead of the entire flashback. 35.7% of participants think the scene will just show a cut down version of the backstory with Ymir’s narration in the background. 21.1% believe that the backstory will be shown again with some tweak to the narration.

Fuck man I dunno, maybe they'll play some interval music and Ymir will tapdance

I feel like the one disappointing thing about this part in the manga is that Ymir died offscreen. This would be a good change and I wouldn’t mind a teaser of Galliard also.

The backstory shown in season 2 wasnt the letter 1/1 right? Then just have the letter read out and have slightly altered images of her story

I got no idea which way they'll go, but WIT will do her story justice, no doubt about that

They will recycle s2's animation and that's it. If they show Ymir's fate, kudos to them, considering they've been pretty lazy with additional content so far.

THE ANIME ADAPTED EREN'S LINE AFTER WAKING UP AS "WHO AM I?" WAS THIS A MORE APPROPRIATE PHRASE THAN THE TRANSLATIONS ABOUT EREN USING DIFFERENT JAPANESE PRONOUNS OR HAVING A DIFFERENT VOICE? 280 Responses

In the manga, Armin comments on Eren’s change of pronouns when he first wakes up, but the anime changed this line to “Who am I?” 38.6% of participants thought this change made more sense in context. 30.7% of participants didn’t realize there was a change, and 21.4% thought the manga made enough sense for it not to warrant a change.

I feel like this episode is where we lost Eren as he once was. The change wasn't immediate, but this is the impetus. All that information, all those memories. The boy has started to become a man.

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 284 Responses

Of the scenes that were shown, a majority of 52.1% of participants are most looking forward to more conversation between Kruger and Grisha.

Historia is lookin fine in the preview

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

Just a nitpick but I wish Kruger’s attack titan was animated more in destroying the boat since it felt more like a colored panel; I’m still happy how it turned it though! Maybe there might be additional animation next episode but I can only hope :’D

This episode was beautifully done. The voice acting really knocked it out of the park, especially Grisha's. His screams, holy shit. I got chills. Kruger's voice was also brilliant, just that perfect blend of nonchalant and forbidding. What I found interesting was the VA for young Grisha sounded so much like Kaji Yuuki! I saw in the credits that it wasn't actually him, but what an excellent casting choice!

Needs more Floch

KRUGER!!!!

This S3P2 has to have the weirdest pacing I've ever seen: the 2ch1ep formula doesn't work at all for backstories like Grisha's, considering the whole worldbuilding is unleashed. That being said, the preview from last episode's accustomed the anime-onlys to the outside world, but combining chapter 86 and 87 leaves no time to breathe properly.

Thinking back on it, wasn’t this Grisha’s first time seeing Titans in the flesh, and eating a person right in front of him?

I had hoped Kruger's hat toss would be more dramatic, but alas, t'wasn't. Other than that, went pretty good

They pronounce 'Zeke' completely different from how I imagined it would sound.

Perfect, especially the final scene. I knew what was coming, but seeing the restorationists become the Trost Titans, the Dina reveal, and Owl transformation was something else. That sequence is on par with Reiner/Bertholdt reveal and Erwin’s charge as best scenes in the series. At least for the anime so far.

I thought this episode was kind of disappointing. Maybe it's just because I really dislike the tone shift that came with the Marley stuff, but I thought the manga handled all this exposition kind of awkwardly and was hoping for better from the anime. Nope, the only thing improving it is that it won't be drawn out for months between chapters this time.

Bby Zook my boi, must protecc at all costs, so innocent, so pure

In one episode all this information WAS WAY TOO MUCH! poor anime-only fans lmao

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 265 Responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated! We’ll see you again in a few days!

[girlobsessed21]

The 100 - 6x04: The face behind the glass review and predictions.

Before we get into the specifics, I’m a little scared of the rehashing of old narratives that comes to surface in this episode especially. Not sure how I feel about all the parallels. In my trailer analysis, I did point out the fact that it does not seem that much different than previous seasons: There are no good guys, we kill them so that we can live and blah, blah, blah. Even so, I’m interested and invested to see what types of unique twists and turns this story will throw at us. Jason Rothenberg, you better not disappoint.

The face behind the glass written by Charmaine DeGrate and directed by Tim Scanlan, who is known for directing the sex scenes on the show. Dead giveaway. Not my favorite so far, but a lot of things happened that has me excited for the rest of the season.

Is there a better way to open an episode than Diyoza joking with her unborn child? It’s no secret she’s in my top 5 favorite characters and keeps climbing the charts. So, the Sanctumites offer her a deal: Save Rose and we’ll take care of your baby, which she takes, to offer her child a life and it’s something to do other than trying to survive. But in known Diyoza fashion on condition of a gun and a bike. 

Then, Simone begs Russel to cancel naming day on account of spies inside the compund. They’ve already been deprived of three primes (Kaylee’s family) and Rose. Pushing them towards extinction at an alarming rate and it once again becomes obvious that Clarke will become Josephine, yet I’m now intrigued by Madi. The cultish way in which these people worship the primes are uncanny and wayward. But then again all cults are weird. I don’t believe in the divinity of the primes either.

Russel disagrees by saying: “If we cancel, Gabriel wins.” Last week I thought that Gabriel will be brought back to life in one of the hosts, but I think there’s something else going on there. It’s clear now that Gabriel and his children are against the revival of the primes, bringing about the question: How has he survived all these years?

Priya and Jordan share some sweet intimate moments where he tells her he feels guilty for becoming another taunting face behind the glass. Which was necessary to show he’s still grieving his parents even while having fun. Her referral to this line later before she becomes a prime is crucial though, meaning there might be a possibility for her to come back.

The four pillars of Sanctum: Repent, Renew, Rejoice, Rebirth. Accentuating rebirth very literally. We know from episode two that Russel Lightbourne does not believe in God, but by killing a person for no reason other than so that someone you love can live is playing god in the cruelest way imaginable.

Embracing their traditions, Clarke decides to repent for her sins. She tries to apologize to Raven who won’t have any of it and compares her to Octavia. For me, the biggest difference between Clarke and Octavia is the remorse she feels. She knows what she did was wrong and she’s trying to make up for it. Therefore she deserves forgiveness. I wonder how Raven will react to Clarke’s death? 

Gabriel? Who the f#@k are Gabriel and his children?

As I said earlier, the old man is definitely Gabriel. We don’t know if he’s dead or alive. It can’t be that he lives within a computer because then his existence would be known. 

My guess is the split within Sanctum came recently (using the term loosely). Gabriel had to be one of the 12 primes since he came with them and his blood was also altered. Meaning his conscience was also transferred into a host. He was against the hostile takeover of innocent bodies and decided to rebel by saving the hosts. 

If this happened sixty odd years ago, Gabriel could still be alive somewhere (perhaps in hiding due to a failed conviction) and old. Very, very old. I’m not sure whether his followers are literally his children or just those that have sided with him, but either way, they want to continue his cause. Which they’ve clearly lost sight of. Save the hosts, don’t kill them.

Or this anomaly they mentioned somehow extends life, only it’s dangerous. Who knows, I’m a bit boggled here.

Xavier purposefully left his bag out to save Octavia and Rose. I’m sure I’ve seen this before. Right, Lincoln kidnapped her and saved her simultaneously. I know this is such a retelling of their story, but I loved Linctavia and thus cannot help boarding this ship.

Another season one throwback to Bellamy and Charlotte. But I think I’ve voiced my concerns about these. Poor, poor Rose. That scene was heartbreaking. 

Boy oh boy Bellarke and their romances

Clarke apologizes to Bellamy and states her reasons even though Bellamy has already forgiven her because he would be a hypocrite not to. And they share what has now become known as a Bellarke hug since it’s all these idiots can ever do.

Clarke hooks up with Cillian (who turns out to be the spy) within two seconds, now I’m not sure about you, but I rolled my eyes. Oh, cute, Clarke has yet another lover added to her long list of previous ones. Finn, Niyalah, Lexa, and Bellamy always on the side. I’m glad it’s a guy though to showcase that she is indeed bisexual and not gay. Bisexuality really needs some appreciation.

No one can tell if Bellamy was only upset with the party as he stated or Clarke having fun with some random dude. Most will say it’s the former and it probably is, yet it’s filmed in a different way. Why did they put him in this scene in the first place? 

When he sees her having fun, he smiles, he’s happy for her. Then the doctor’s all over her and all of a sudden his attitude changes. I don’t want to read too much into it since I had to watch it like six times to draw this conclusion.

He’s hurt and grieving over a lot of things, especially his sister and then he witnesses his “platonic soulmate” in the arms of another man. She’s always known exactly how to get him to open up, what to say to make him feel better and even though he knows he’s not allowed to feel that way, he’s jealous, he realizes he still needs her. 

And that spurs the single tear and his fight with Echo. He even spares another glance over his shoulder when she asks what’s wrong. Or was that just random? Because once he’s calmed down he apologizes to his girlfriend and comforts her when she tells him her backstory after six years of being lied to.

I felt for Echo, her life wasn’t easy, but none of their lives were. Honestly, I just can’t find Becho’s connection. Even though I try, because at some point we have to accept the fact that this is possibly a long term pairing. I’ve made my peace, I’ll ignore them. Give Echo an individual storyline and I might just start liking her more. 

A Red Queen and a terrorist walk into a bar

First of all, I have to show my gratitude for the glimpses of Octavia’s humanity. She’s in there and she’s slowly swimming to the top. That thorned rose is blossoming once again, thank you, Bellamy, for your part in this.

This is a weapon of mass destruction if I’ve ever seen one. A pregnant terrorist and a former evil queen. Yes, this is what I’m talking about. I might just write fanfiction about it.

“The devils of earth become the heroes of Sanctum.” They’re set out to kill Gabriel, but I doubt that will occur. From all I’ve heard, he’s good. Enhanced by Cillian’s words: “There are two sides to every story.” So, they will most likely join forces against Sanctum in some way. Hopefully not blowing up another planet. Please do something interesting here.

Josephine!Clarke

Okay, my first take on Josephine Ada Lightbourne was very wrong. To me, she seemed smart, funny and confident. Now she looks like the devil in disguise (No pun intended.) 

Reverting back to my earlier assumption about Delilah/Priya. It’s evident that Delilah no longer exists within her body which sets Jordan on edge. But that small statement along with knowing the mind of the host is erased but the brain is unharmed propels me to believe they can come back. Somehow. Hopefully.

Simone says, “I’ll prep for insertion, you clear the host.” Did that mean Clarke’s mind might be stored in some device too? They must have a way of extracting consciousness to transfer it to a host. Thus Clarke Griffin’s mind will be backed up somewhere as well. Not for too long before it’s disposed of, I’m sure.

Come on Madi (Lexa and Becca), Bellamy, Abby, Jordan, Raven, Murphy. You have to figure this out and bring her back before its too late. I refuse to believe Princess Clarke is dead. If she is, my mind is blown in a bullet to the brain kind of way. 

One scenario is that Josephine will have to give forth a ruse of being Clarke and willingly accept the “honor” of becoming a prime. She’s been indulging in all their other conventions, why not this one, right? But Jordan now knows what happened to Delilah, so they will try to stop her. Most likely Madi or Bellamy will notice a difference within her.

The dangerous alternative will be for Josephine to simply embrace her new host by saying they brought her to life after Cillian murdered her. Sanctumites, you have no idea how much Clarke’s people care about her. This might even sway those currently mad at her for an investigation.

A few last things

Russel does feel bad about what he’s doing, but so did Dante Wallace.

Raven and Wick (Sorry the other mechanic) what is that? Five minutes after Shaw’s death. Or was it only the motorcycle. Why does this show give us seedlings of relationships that will have no chance of growing?

Is Shadeheda Cadogen and what will he bring to the table?

Madi tasting her first cookie was awesome!

I missed Murphy this episode. His presence is required at all times.

What will happen to Niylah on the ship? And when will Indra make her appearance?

Will Russel and Simone find out that Abby knows how to create nightblood? 

Let me know what you think.

[icekitten]

Magicians (and how slash ships are treated) rant...

I’ve watched shows where...

A slash ship finally expressed their love for each other and heavily indicated the relationship would be consummated only for one half to be murdered by the end of the episode.

The audience was mercilessly queer-baited for years only for the characters to be put in straight relationships or for the love to be one-sided or unrequited, with no satisfying conclusion. And all because stringing along the fans with homoerotic scenes, flirtatious banter and innuendo keeps the viewership steady without actually having to pull the trigger on a same-sex romance and of course they wouldn’t want to alienate the homophobic portion of the audience. Apparently heterosexuality and pandering to bigots will always trump chemistry, connection and sense. 

One half of the couple dies tragically in the others arms, usually from murder or an incurable ailment.

The gay character never gets a love interest at all, even when the show runs for years. Or they do get a love interest, but are barely allowed to kiss unless it’s in dim lighting.

Multiple gay characters are added for the sake of inclusion only for them to get no significant screen time, or they’re killed off, never receiving a meaningful story arc or romance. And the excuse made for never pairing any of them together is that they don’t want to create couples simply based on the fact they’re both gay. So who exactly can they be paired with? The sexually ambiguous male lead? Ha! Keep dreaming!

One half of the pairing is murdered by the other. And you’d think that nothing could be more devastating than that...

The Magicians season 4 finale was worse than any of the above, because they promised us something within their own narrative (”If I ever get out of here Q, know that when I’m braver it’s because I learned it from you.”) and not only didn’t deliver, they destroyed it in the cruelest way possible. They relished the critical praise of episodes like A Life in The Day and Escape from the Happy Place, they presented the audience with a male/male ship that was mutually requited and had the potential to be a groundbreaking power couple for the ages and they not only took it away but spat in our faces. They filled the final 3 episodes of season 4 with heterosexual love stories and gave them meaningful moments together before the tragic death of their bisexual lead and they couldn’t even spare a look between Quentin and Eliot, not even a one sentence exchange. And for what? Shock value? To give Eliot more man-pain going into season 5? For the sake of tragedy and realism in a fantasy show about MAGIC?! Why is it realistic for the straight couples to get final moments together but not the same-sex pairing? And why would you center an entire season around Quentin’s unwavering mission to free Eliot from the monster only to have Eliot finally come back (in an extremely anticlimactic way I might add) and not even have these characters speak to or look at each other during said scene or later in the episode? And Eliot awoke from his season long imprisonment in his own mind to the news that his best friend, brother of the heart and soulmate is dead and he’ll never get the chance to tell him he loves him, which was the motivating thought that kept him fighting for his freedom from the monster. It’s absolutely baffling from a writing perspective, as if the writers of the second half of the season had no concept of what propelled the first.

What could have been a bold, groundbreaking and historic moment in the television landscape became a living nightmare of undoing everything the show did right. And boy, did we believe wholeheartedly in this little cult scifi show. We all thought that this one was different. Surely they wouldn’t be like all the others, not when they wrote Quentin and Eliot’s relationship with such nuance, meaning and beauty... but in the end they acted with the same spinelessness, heartlessness and disregard for their most loyal supporters as all the rest, and they were downright savage in their delivery of the final blow. They not only killed a unique, relatable, and brave character and a ship that never reached it’s full potential, they killed the show entirely. Our trust was betrayed, our faith evaporated with Quentin, and our love for The Magicians was utterly snuffed out. And the true tragedy is The Magicians won’t be remembered for the magical, daring, layered, funny, deep, poignant and beloved show it once was, but for the gutless mess it became in the final episodes of season 4.

Should we just accept that slash ships will inevitably end in tragedy, or never be requited, that one half must die, that they should be treated as less than their hetero counterparts? Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want all same-sex tv couples to live a tragedy free existence. I love angst and drama and the masochist in me is a sucker for a star-crossed love story. All I ask is for these potential couples to exist outside the realm of subtext whether it ends in a happily ever after or heartbreaking devastation. Give them a chance to flourish, instead of crushing all potential before the story has begun.

Why should fictional gay couples and main characters only be relegated to soap operas, fluffy comedies, and shows that are specifically geared towards a gay audience? Why are gay and bi characters always secondary on scripted dramas? Visibility matters but so does treating LGBT characters with the same respect and dignity as their straight peers. Including gay characters within a series just for the sake of inclusion is not progressive if you never do anything consequential with them. Can we not have one mainstream dramatic series where the male lead falls in love with another man (before the final episode and not in flashback form)? Would the show be ripped off the air? Would the ratings plummet? Do producers not realize how hungry we are for something like this? How many times we’ve been burned and hurt by television series in the past? If a show were to go boldly into this uncharted territory it would be hailed as a cultural phenomenon and we would spread the word like wildfire! Or is queer-baiting, the “bury your gays” trope, and minimal inclusion so alluring that artistic integrity be damned? Would these shows rather appeal to the narrow-minded than the open-hearted?

And why should we be treated so abhorrently? The members of the slash fandom are the ones who love these shows with all our hearts, re-watch episodes incessantly, create gifs, art, fics, tribute videos, cosplay, meta, the ones who tweet and promote and recommend the show to others, not because we’re paid to but because we’re devoted and passionate. We are the ones who keep the spirit of shows alive long after they’re off the air waves. We’re the ones who find inspiration in the characters and worlds these series create and expand upon these wonderful creations into works of our own making. And all we ask in return is just once for a pairing we ship to get a chance at love. To not be baited, fooled, played and ultimately heartbroken, hopeless and disillusioned.

This long-running and unfortunate queer-baiting phenomenon is unacceptable and the practice needs to be eradicated now. The lack of ethics and creative principle from showrunners and network execs is the epitome of cowardice. Why is fear stronger than love and reason? I guarantee if they had a male lead character fall in love with a man (not on a whim, but because it made sense within the canon text of the show and because of the chemistry between the two characters) they would receive mountains of praise from critics and fans. It would breathe new life into a stale state of sameness within network drama. Slash fans would tune-in in droves to witness such a valiant television landmark and historic precedent. They would be the trailblazing show that did what no other had the honesty and moral fiber to do. And to think it could have been you, The Magicians.

It’s 2019. Please do better.