#worse than this is entertaining the possibility that shell Never return. this makes no sense but i cannot suppress my most paranoid of

[iridescentscarecrow]

asaden shippers are probably eating good rn but you who else didnt have a family? thats right

this is how reze can still return-

reze can return. reze will return 💯💯💯 ... fujimoto please i am on my knees.

because part 1's construction happens in miniature in the reze arc! and reze is unique since she is her Own Defining Agent, removed from makima. so much of her struggle is defined autonomy and with the way this works in part 2 it makes so much sense to bring her back. reze is contextless (Familyless. re: my 155 meta). she bleeds herself dry of it and instead forms her self around her encounter with denji! p2, denji also decontextualising himself, fumiko's fandomisation mirroring reze's,,, also. asa's whole thing with yoru -- the looming Weaponisation of the weapon hybrids. think about reze The Weapon Hybrid in p1, how much she purposes herself. bomb and war. i need fujimoto to bring her back but knowing where and how her character functions best im aware that he'll do it in the sickest of ways.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Okay so the last ask made me think of this, imagine the young humans from the adoption ask got seriously hurt one of the big fights, how would the bots from the ask react?

Ohohoho for those who don't know this is the ask in question...

Tailgate

·No matter if just one human is injured or all are hurt in some way, and regardless of whether he was there or not, his guilt is unfathomable. These tiny human protoforms looked up to him, called him their big brother and obviously thought of him as a source of security and protection... How could he have failed them like this? He'd known firsthand how dangerous the galaxy could be, and had experienced how scary it was to be thrown right into it, he should have been ready for their sake! No amount of reasurance can make him see otherwise. If anything, he pushes away any and all attempts at comfort, believing he doesn't deserve them. Should whatever enemy that hurt them still be out there, he'll absolutely have a go at them if at all possible. If they escape he'll make it a personal mission to someday pay them back for everything they've done.

·His hab suite is abandoned to keep watch over the injured liaisons, even if some of them are well enough to insist he can absolutely recharge in his own room. Should any human be in a coma, or otherwise bedbound, he'll ensure they never go a moment without company. From holding tiny hands in his to telling endless made up stories and even arranging movies or other entertainment, his vigil is tireless. On more than one occasion he opts to just sleep on the floor. It also doesn't escape the notice of other humans, as they visit their fellow liaisons or recover enough to speak, that his expression is occasionally wracked with guilt. Being small doesn't stop them seeing the tears he strives to hide either.

·As soon as it's possible, the full liaison group stages a kind of intervention, coming together around the minibot for a hug even if some of them are still bandaged from their injuries. A barrage of reassurance is somewhat scrambled as they all begin talking at once, so overcome with love for their adopted big brother that soon the whole group is crying. Tailgate loses it when they do and gently but emphatically embraces them in return, shedding a waterfall of tears as he lets the guilt fall from his shoulders at last. He'd been so afraid of losing the little family that had broken his millions of years of loneliness, so to hear straight from them that wasn't happening... He didn't even care when a medic arrived and gently encouraged those injured to return to rest. Knowing he's still their big brother reminds him that he'll always have this family, no matter what.

Ratchet

·In the initial "incident" he's calm, but only because he must be as the medic, and a couple million years of experience are the only thing keeping him from breaking at the sight of tiny, damaged bodies. But even with his nerves holding strong it's immediately apparent he's under immense emotional turmoil, as his demeanor is exceptionally snappish compared to the norm. Even the other medics notice and cast each other worried looks as the humans are stabilized. Seeing that they'll survive gives him no comfort, as the liaisons had counted on him to keep them safe, and he's failed them. No matter the circumstances, he refuses to believe he doesn't shoulder at least some of the blame for their injuries. He's far too focused on keeping them stable and getting them fully recovered to care about hunting down who hurt them... for the time being.

·Though he's always been a bit of a workaholic, he has to be more or less ordered to leave the medical bay, even to eat or sleep. Every pulse on the heartbeat monitor gets his total attention, to the point he strains his optics focusing on the vitals when there's nothing else to be done. Despite being quite well versed in human medicine, he rereads every single bit of material he can find on the subject, just to be certain in his decisions. If other liaisons are uninjured or wake up before the others, he keeps a brave face whenever they're around, maintaining his role as their protector and mentor. He refuses to let them know he's in need of help while they suffer for his perceived mistakes.

·It's only when the whole group is awake and decently on the road to recovery that they start to notice something is off. While he pretends to be fine in their presence, even Ratchet can't hide the incredible guilt and sadness in his optics whenever he doesn't know he's being watched. Though initially insistent that he's merely tired from work, the liaisons are able to break through with a group reasurance that they don't blame him for anything. He patched them up when they were on death's door! An actual sob of relief shakes his shoulders when he's assured he'll always be "Doctor Mom" to them, and they are always grateful for his care.

Minimus

·It's rather fortunate he's in his Magnus armor when they're injured, because whether he's there or not, whatever hurt them is going to be hurt far worse if he's able to reach it. In the aftermath of a rapidly executed revenge though, he's hit with grief and guilt like none he's ever known. Seeing their damaged little bodies only makes it worse. He's the head of security, he told them he would keep them safe, all of this is his fault. Immediately his office becomes the only place he can be found, save for odd hour visits to check up on the liaisons in silence. Every security procedure has to be updated, every defense system needs to be reworked, and he refuses to rest until he is satisfied. Of course, that simply isn't possible.

·Everyone on the ship is aware of his absence, as it's hard not to notice a bot so massive suddenly being nowhere in sight. All attempts to encourage him outside simply get dismissed with cold and curt replies. As the liaisons begin to recover, those in and out of the medical bay very quickly take note of their "Uncle Magnus" being so rarely present, and that his demeanor is distant instead of quiet. They don't know that he thinks to Verity when he sees them, or that he is growing increasingly unable to face them, but they are all more than able to recognize hurt. It takes solid planning to try and have a conversation with him that involves the whole group.

·Only luck and perseverance allow the young liaisons to all meet up with him in his office, catching him off guard and out of his armor as Minimus, and it takes a bit of pushing to get him talking. Though his responses are still quick, they all put together his suffering quite quickly. The reserved bot is surrounded by a group hug he can't escape, and the young humans make it emphatically clear he isn't responsible for making the entire universe safe. They agreed to go on this mission knowing the risks, and even after what happened, they want to stay specifically because of bots like him. With his shell quite cracked, he kneels down to return the embrace as best he can. Reassuring the gathered group that he wants them to stay as well, he thanks them for their... patience, with his troubles. The humans know he really means to thank them for more, but just doesn't want to cry in front of them.

Swerve

·When he's told of the incident that resulted in their wounds, he freezes, more due to being overwhelmed by too many emotions at once than anything else. For a solid instant he was actually silent. Words didn't even make sense when he started rushing through questions on their condition, and made less sense when he got to the medical bay and received an explanation. Seeing them on the repair slabs had almost broken him. As illogical as it is to blame himself, he can't help but feel he's failed them in some way, perhaps by not preparing them for a universe that is capable of this. They should have been with a responsible bot who could have taught them to defend themselves, not... him. He waits until he's alone in his room to cry from the weight of it all.

·Though he tries to visit the liaisons often, it hurts every time he sees them. The bar becomes his primary focus, but not in a healthy way, especially as he begins to throw himself into whatever might distract him from the pain. Being a pro at hiding his emotion ensures that very few bots suspect something is wrong. But once some of the humans start to visit him, either for events at the bar or just to visit, they quickly pick up on something being wrong. While not distant, there's very obviously a wall up around their usually open friend. Attempts to see if he's hurting result in very quick diversions and impressive topic avoidance displays from the usually chipper bot. It takes a group effort when the bar is closed to get through to their friend.

·Swerve actually appears afraid when all the liaisons show up to speak with him, and breaks quickly when they express a desire to talk, holding back tears as he apologizes for everything he's messed up. Even a whole group struggles to get a word in, and he isn't at all prepared to stop as he begins saying how sorry he is for keeping them from what would have protected them. Finally able to get a question through, they get him to explain his belief that befriending him held them back from spending time with bots who could have actually kept them safe. That gets the whole group moving in sync. Each liaison reassures him that they treasure their relationship with him, and that he's probably the most fun and friendly bot on the ship, so much so that none of them would give up knowing him for anything. When he tries to point out they could have died, a promise that his friendship is still worth it sets off happy waterworks. A number of liaisons hand him towels to wipe away the tears as they promise he doesn't need to worry about being alone ever again.

Whirl

·No one needs to tell him about the injuries, as soon as he hears so much as a hint of trouble he's tearing across the ship to protect his beloved little family. Revenge isn't a concern for long, though the cleanup will be for some time, as his wrath is nothing short of brutal. The overwhelming pain of seeing one of the humans hurt, however... Sedation is needed to keep him from doing anything drastic, and he has to receive the news of their condition slowly and in pieces to bring him back to reality in a way he can handle. Afterwards he's more just... numb. Knowing they'll be okay doesn't help, because the fact that it came so close is enough to rock him to his core. Just seeing any of them in the medbay is physically painful.

·It's a miracle he doesn't stock up on supplies and steal a shuttle, because ordinarily this kind of thing is a flaring signal that he needs to move on. Staying in one place is risky for this exact reason. Only his deep ties to the little group hold him back, but he is intent to distance himself from now on, avoiding the humans whenever possible once they recover. It's for the best, he tells himself, because being associated with him never ends well for anyone. He can't help but blame himself for being so happy he actually forgot that, resulting in so much avoidable hurt for others. The strategy works well even if it kills him to brush off every attempt the liaisons offer to meet up. Once they're well enough, the young humans quickly put together something is wrong, and they plan a check up on their favorite Copterbot.

·Whirl, for all his reputation, nearly cowers when he's accidentally cornered in his room. Avoiding eye contact with the whole group, he's quick to try and get them to leave, insisting that they just don't know what's good for them. Namely, he's not good for them. At their stubborn refusal to comply he's frustrated but just can't be angry. It's not personal, he explains, but being near him just isn't safe and they're far too delicate to risk it. It's his turn to be surprised when they emphatically deny him, pointing out his rescue and that his past isn't ever going to drive them away. Despite their size, he's almost knocked over by the strength of their conviction. Does he really mean that much to them? A synchronized assault of tiny hugs brings him to his knees, and all the reasurance he feels in their small hands ignites something in his spark he doesn't have a name for. All the bitterness he's accumulated stands no chance against their boundless acceptance. Trying not to be sappy, he concedes that he can chill with them seeing as how upset they are, and the liaisons pretend not to see the tears welling up in his optic.

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[briarrosescurse]

Yandere AU

i’m kinda getting hooked on the thought of yandere again, so here, take little descriptions of my ocs as yandere - more under the cut!

just a warning tho! since this is about yandere, please be aware that this isn’t all candy dandy. there are mentions of violence, manipulation, abuse and the such.

rozalina: roza is unsuspecting, you wouldn’t peg her to be this kind of person. it starts “slowly” - while she may be a little pushy with her affections, constantly smothering you with love, attention and gifts, only later her dependence on you starts to show. phrases like “i’m so glad i have you” or “i’d be so, so lonely, so lost without you” start to be thrown around by her.

pay her less attention, give her less love and she’ll notice it - she’ll beg you to stay, she’ll let you know that you just can’t leave her like that. her dependence is supposed to guilt trip you. she is oh-so helpless without you, in this cruel and cold world; you wouldn’t be so heartless and leave her all in the dark, no? roza, despite her looks, knows how to use her words, and even if she makes impulsive decisions when it comes to you, she knows how to work her way towards her goal. and not to mention, she is quite relentless. 

and soon enough, a sort of cycle of dependence develops. her dependence on you turns into your dependence on her. it’s hard to let go now. it’s hard to leave, because god, you’d lose so much, wouldn’t you? you’re attached, you have fallen deep. you need her and she needs you. that’s all that matters in the end.

xiang: take a man who is out of touch with his feelings, mix it with intense obsession and what do you get? a destructive ‘love’ that you cannot even call ‘love’. xiang is his own kind of yandere, really. the fact he feels so awfully attached you drives him nuts. he doesn’t know how to deal with this, but he can’t help but give into his addiction - you. and yet, you give him a high, he can’t get enough of these things you make him experience. you’re fun, you’re interesting, so unpredictable and yet he wants to know everything he can about you. you amuse him, entertain him - once his attention is locked on you, pray to the gods you can keep him entertained as long as possible, because once he’s bored of you? he’ll toss you aside. he doesn’t care if he breaks you, he doesn’t care if you retaliate, fight him all in want, in fact. it’ll just make things more fun for him. his methods are much more calculated and mental, but if he has to, he’ll take it up a notch and break you physically, too. he knows he can repent in hell later for all he did to you.

don't think xiang isn't aware of what he has done is immoral. but right now, it could bother him less what happens next to you, as long as you’re right here. and if he’s tired of you, then looks like you’ll be another one of many.

balgair: at first glance, balgair doesn't seem to be… too different? he still is good ol' balgair - a friendly and welcoming boy, a façade for his true nature - a lot more calculating and cynical. however, yandere balgair is a lot more extreme, so to say. his loose sense of morals and narcissistic ideals become very clear once he reveals his true nature. he is very intend on keeping you safe and keeping you with him. his upmost priority is to ensure your safety, even if he has to go against your will. anyone, who dares to put you into harm's way, will be dealt with, quickly.to you, he'll be the ideal boyfriend you always dreamt of - whether it'd be coddling and loving or cold and cool. he'll adjust himself, to whatever your preferences are, and make you happy, the way you wish - unless you happen to put yourself in danger. that includes turning your back to him. all he asks of you is to put your hands in his, close your eyes and trust him.

but really, every child knows that foxes are never to be trusted.

theodor: theodor is another one who is peak unsuspecting. his kind, innocent behavior, his gentle soul, you'd never think he'd able to bring harm onto anyone. unless you'd ask him to. theodor wants to fulfill your every wish and make you the happiest you can be. he doesn't care how little he'll get out of it, as long as you're happy, he'll listen to your every request. he'll drop anything for you. he'll do any task for you. he'll make sure to always put a smile on your face. it's sweet - until you realize that theodor has completely given up on himself in order to please you. you can't call him a loyal servant at this point. he is much more like a marionette - he'll dance to any tune you'll sing. he'll follow your every move, your every word. theodor is just a shell of he was. all that matters to him now, is you. nothing else.

chloe: out of the bunch here, chloe is the most harmless one you can get. she seems to be fascinated by you at best, at worst goes down to take care of anyone that appears to be a nuisance to you. she is hiding in the shadows for the majority of the time. she’s clumsy with her emotions, so for her to express any form of open affection towards you may be extremely rare. and you may ‘mistake’ her as some kind of stalker, since she only keeps an eye on you, but never bothers to approach you. chloe hates being anyone’s shadow, but this one time, she willingly turns herself into one. if it means to confirm your wellbeing, this is fine for her. she doesn’t even expect anything in return - at least, according to her. but aren’t you a little worried that this might change one day?

madeline: madeline’s mood swings are intense and terrifying. he seems to treat you with a bias, holding you to a high regard, complimenting your beauty, encouraging your dreams, valuing your talents and always holding you up to another standard than with most others. but in case you disappoint him and defy his ideal version of you? he grows angry, he becomes petty and he resorts to threats to keep you in line. he expects so much better of you. furthermore, he is insanely possessive. he becomes terribly jealous with ease, especially if people, against whom he has a personal vendetta, talk to you so casually, so friendly. they taint your image, according to him. madeline wouldn’t touch a hair on your head if you didn’t want him to. he’d never resort to anything physical. however, he makes sure to let you know that this ‘wonderland’, just for the two of you, is something he built with his whole pride - don’t trample on it in order to escape, as his wonderland has no escape.

briar: briar is the one of the two of the bunch who is entirely aware of his actions - but unlike xiang, briar is repulsed by himself. he used to pride himself in who he is, what power he holds, what he can do. that's all that mattered, all that defined him, only he. he was so independent, not in need of anyone's reassurance to confine himself in. but then, you entered his life and you were all he could focus on. briar, while also repulsed by the moral implications of this, he is also repulsed by what he has become. you changed him, for the worse, and he can't take it. he adores you, with all he is, and yet despises you, with all he used to be. briar is not keen on using violence or force with you, but if he is in a foul mood and you decide to step on his toes on purpose, he thinks that punishing you by locking you up is absolutely appropriate. other than that, he doesn't hesitate to go back to dirty methods like blackmail or threats. he wants you to know your place - you can't disobey an ancient, noble fae after all, can you now?

[visit-ba-sing-se]

I recently saw a post by someone asking for a fanfiction in which Azula snapped a bit earlier after things turning out different on the day of Sozin`s comet...and I guess you could say I kind of snapped as well? (it starts after the events at the boiling rock, btw: this (+ more) is also on my ao3 now!

„I love Zuko more than I fear you.“ For a moment, I was struck. Unable to respond, to even process the words. I heard them, but they did not make sense. Then, suddenly everything fell into place. „No, you miscalculated. You should have feared me more.“ I sounded affected. I was affected. That’s weak, Azula. I saw May pulling out a knife and raised my hand the same time, ready to strike. She would not stand a chance. Not even the avatar had been able to take on my lightning. May wasn’t stupid. Of course she knew that. And when I looked her in the eyes I knew that she knew I knew. Suddenly, a part of did not want to throw any lightning at all. A part of me wanted to lower her hand and just let the knife hit her. Or tell may that we would not have to do this. That’s weak, Azula. I heard my fathers voice in my head again, this time with even more disgust. And do I have a weak daughter? Suddenly, I did not see May anymore. Just him, looking down and me, disappointed. There was nothing I would do to escape that look. I took a deep breath, ready to strike for real now. But before I could, I felt a sudden punch into my side. Then another. And before I knew it, I was lying on the ground, unable to move, Ty Lee and May standing above me. Again, it took a moment until my mind had pieced together what just had happened. Ty Lee had betrayed me as well.  May had chosen Zuko over me, and Ty Lee had chosen May over me.

My oldest friends from childhood. The girls I had grown up with. For a moment, they seemed frozen as well. Until Ty Lee broke the silence. Not because she had anything else left to tell me. Just to tell May to get away. Which was useless, of course. There were guards, all around, and they had just attacked their princess. Two quickly came to help me up.

„Your both fools.“ I wanted to sound like I did not care. Like I did not feel like the actual fool in this was me. What had I been expecting from this anyway?  I had had to set a fire in the circus Ty Lee was traveling with in order to get her to join me. And the way May had flung herself at Zuko since the day he had returned should have told me more than clearly where her loyalty lied. Where her loyalty had been lying all the time. With my oh so loveable brother. So when it was time to chose, the choice was clear. Just like for mom. Just like for uncle. Who would ever chose me? Who would ever take my hand if I would not be holding a knife in the other? Shut It down, Azula. You don’t need them. Friends are for people who are too weak to have servants. I took a deep breath in. Yes, I had made a mistake. I taken risks, and even worse, forgotten those risks existed. But I could make sure that would never happen again. And when one of the guards asked what to do next, I had my answer ready.

„Lock up them somewhere were I won’t have to see there faces ever again.“ My voice sounded firm again. A good sound. As I continued, I looked May straight in the eye. She had wanted fear? She could get it. „And let them rot.“

After they had been brought away, I saw the warden walking up to me. A pathetic excuse of a man, who had believed that the little power he possessed somehow made him greater than those around him. Just a big fish in a small pond who believed himself to be a shark. If he had done his job properly, none of this would have happened. I knew that this wasn’t the full truth, but definetly part of it. And I wanted him to know. When he started uttering something between an apology, an explanation and monologue of self pity, I therefore shut him down immediately. „I am sorry, but where you talking to me? Because all I hear is the sound of failure. Which is quite pathetic, honestly“  You should have feared me more, I had told May. Now I would give them a reason too. „Your actions lead to the escape of dangerous war criminals, not to mention a threat to my life. It was pure look your niece didn`t cut my throat.“ I paused, just to enjoy the sight of him twisting his hands in the desperate search for words. How many times had he been the one who made prisoners feel the way he felt now? The thought of this irony truly had something validating to it. „This not only gives you a record of failing at your job. This makes you man who endangered the fire nation and a member of its royal family. And that-“ I allowed myself one more dramatic break, „that is treason. And a man of your education should know what the penalty for treason is.“

He did not even have it in himself to give me an answer. Instead, he sunk down on his knees. I knew I could just kill him right away. One struck of lightning and he would be gone. Or make one of the guards do it. Just because I really started to enjoy this whole irony theme. But that would not be as effective as what I had in mind.

„But you are a lucky man warden,“ I said therefore. „A man should not have to die in the shame of his mistakes.“ Relieve started to build on his face, just to crumble again when I announced:

„So I am giving you away to restore your honor. Agni Kai.“

I felt good. I was in control again. I saw the way they all were looking at me, with fear and admiration balancing in their eyes. The way I deserved to be looked at. The way a future firelord deserved to be looked at.

The warden finally seemed to have found his voice again. „Excuse me princess, what do you mean? You can’t possibly mean….you can’t seriously want…“

„Don`t tell me what I can. In fact, you should be thanking me for this chance to prove yourself. Or are not even man enough to accept this challenge? Can you only duel someone when they are in chains?“

„No, of course not! I can fight! But princess, I could never fight you!“ Though his protest did have something entertaining to it, I decided that it was time to finally get to the point.

„I am afraid you will have too. 5 minutes. Then it is on.“

Just enough time to up up my hair again properly. A few streaks had fallen out, and that was nothing I could use while fighting.

The fight that followed wasn’t even worth the name. A turtle duck would have been a better opponent. Those things at least had shells. But surely it had served his cause. The people here now surely were reminded of where their loyalty had to lie. And who they had to admire. Time to return to the palace. Only that that was not possible. At least not directly, as I had to realize when we came to the spot where my ballon was supposed to be. Zuko. He and his gang of war prisoners must have used it to escape. This was bad. Sure, we could sent for another one. But questions would be asked. I usually never to father about the missions I went on, just in case. If they were successful, he did not ask further questions. If they weren’t, he would never have to know. But know he woudl. I would have to explain what happened. I would have to explain what happened to father. That Zuko got way because I let him. Just when I had thought things were back in control, it all came crumbling down again. Zuko, that idiot. A guard was along to me, but his words did not really get through. They were probably useless anyway. How was it even possible that Zuko had out played me ? He was Zuko, after all. Weak. A quitter. A runaway. He did not outplay you. You outplayed yourself by letting your emotions get in the way of your judgment.

„Princess, princess, are you even listening?“ That annoying guard still had something to say apparently.

„Oh shut it, will you?“ I screamed. „The next words I want to hear from you are `Princess Azula, your ballon has arrived.`if you dare to tell me anything else before that, I swear that the next person you can things to is someone from the spirit world.“ The guard opened his mouth, his eyes wide open, and then closed it again quickly. He nodded so fast and strong that his teeth were clicking together. Also not the most pleasing sound. I snapped my fingers and let a spark fly for emphasis. „And now get of my view.“ Silence, finally. Just the waves crashing against the shore. Waves above which somewhere my brother was flying with his new friends. This was all wrong. I should be on my way home, with him as prisoner. Eager to tell father of my success. And now instead, I would return a failure and did not know how I would be able to face him. He would be disappointed, that was for sure. This had been our once chance at catching Zuko, and I had blown it. Blown it because I had not had  my  own people under control. Still, he had to hear it from me. Every other scenario was even worse, I knew that.

Back at the place, I therefore sent for a servant and asked for a hearing directly. Luckily, it was granted to me soon. At least that was something. Fighting the argue to run back into the direction I had just come from, I made my way to the throne room, entered the heavy door and got close enough to my father to talk to him. There I knelt down.

„Azula, my daughter. What brings you here?“ His voice sounded so friendly. I felt my eyes water. Even though I knew that crying would be the worst thing possible to do. Instead, I therefore tried to sum up the events as well as possible, walking the small line between apology and not admitting failure. A silence followed, only interrupted by the beat of my heart. Father always took  time before he reached a verdict.

„It is unfortunate your brother got away. Especially since this could have been prevented so easily. Did I not teach you to never trust others?“ I nodded. He did. I would not know of any person he had ever trusted with anything. He even cut his own hair because any hairdresser could potentially want him harm. „But you did the right thing to challenge the warden. It gave proof that we will not tolerant weakness. And to not worry, the day of our triumph will come soon“

I did not know how to react. There were many things I had expected, possibilities that I had played out in my head.  This definitely had not been one of them.

All I could so was stutter.„You are not…angry with me?“

„No Azula. Now is not the time get upset about small mistakes. What counts now is the bigger picture. Our plans for the return of the comet.“

„So you don’t think I am just like Zuko now?“ I still did not trust this. What reason did he have to be so kind, so forgiving in face of my failure?

„Azula, of course not. I always knew you were stronger than your brother.“

„Yes father, Thank you.“

„You will be my heir one day. A worthy one.“

I still faced the ground. I knew I was supposed to feel relieved. This was a kinder response than anything I ever could have hoped for. But then I understood. He was showing mercy because I he had no more child left to loose. He needed my because he needed legacy. Someone to pass his empire onto. Someone to pass his empire onto who was not Zuko.

And suddenly I could not help but wonder „If I am stronger, then why am I the one on my knees?“

Later this night, I had trouble finding sleep. When I finally did, I dreamed of the Angi Kai between father and Zuko. Only that it was not down there, but me. And no matter what I did, I wasn’t able to produce any lighting. Or even fire. The audience cheered and applauded my failure. Some even started laughing. I could see Ty Lee and May pointing fingers and whispering. It must have been a long time since they had been this happy. DO I HAVE A WEAK DAUGHTER? My father entered the picture, a dark shadow towering above everything. DO I HAVE A CHILD THAT IS NOT EVEN ABLE TO BEND? Where was my fire? Why couldn’t I reach it? I KNOW YOU ARE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH. „But I am trying!“, I protest. I was trying so hard. I always was. YOU ARE LYING. IF YOU REALLY TRIED, YOU WOULD SUCCEED. But I didn’t. No flames, no matter what I did. And then I felt a sudden heat in my face and knew it was burning. I was burning. I screamed from pain and frustration, and then suddenly I was in my bed again, sitting up straight, shivering and sweating at the same time. I raised my hand and produced a small flame. Good. So my at least my fire was still there. Looking at it flicker helped my calm down a bit. It was like a pathway back to reality. Of course, there were times where I wondered what I would have done. Most of the time, I was convinced that I would never even have gotten into this situation. I would have know when to be quiet. Like I had always know what to do. I knew mom and uncle used to feel sorry for Zuko because of the way dad hat treated him. But that wasn`t really fair. If he had put in a bit more effort, he could have been like me. I worked every day of my life to get where I was now. Only- where exactly was I? I liked to think that was strong and powerful. But if I was, why did I have to kneel in fron of father with tears in his eyes? Why was I always at his mercy, no matter what I did ? Having to beg for admiration? What would be left of my life if he would not be there? What would be left of me? In a way, when Zuko talked back to father he had done something I never would have been able to do. But how could that be? I was the strong one. All he did was run. That was weak. But it was still more than I ever was capable of. I tried to dismiss the thought. It was nothing I even wanted to be capable of. Why would I? I had all reason to stay here. Here, where I would triumph over the avatar together with dad. Here, where I would one day be crowned next firelord. That was everything I wanted. „That is everything I want.“, I exclaimed to the flame that was still hovering over my hand.

The next days passed quickly in preparation of the day of the comet. I trained harder and longer than ever before, and I had one of the medics in the palace fix me a drink to help me sleep. I told myself that it was because I would need the energy. Not because I was scared of any dreams. I felt ready. I would finally prove myself once and for all.

But then, everything came different. I heard of it before it was official, once more happy about my ears all around the place. Someone had seen Zuko and that water girl trying to sneak up on the palace. Typical for him that he had not been able to remain unseen. Not typical for him that he seriously had been wanting to come here to fight. From what I heard, they had not been able to capture him yet. For a short moment I even felt something like respect. A really short  moment, of course. But before I even had time to analyze what this meant, I heard a knock on my door. To my greatest surprise, it was father. I could not recall any time he had ever come here himself instead of sending a servant.

„Azula,“ he said while doing something that came strangely close to smiling. „My wonderful daughter. I am sure you have heard the news.“

I nodded, overwhelmed. „Yes. Zuko is coming.“

„Zuko is about to be caught by our guard.“ The way he pronounced my brother name was dripping from disgust, his face turning into a twisted mask of hatred. “And I want him gone before I set for the earth kingdom, and he will be brought here as soon as possible.“

„But“ I blurted out, „Is the earth kingdom not more important? You are just wasting time on him.“ I knew it was a mistake, but I just could not hold back. „Azula, get yourself under control again. I decided what is a waste of time and what is not. This will be over soon anyway. Come with me now.“ I lowered my look and my voice. „Coming? To where?“ „To where I will end your brothers pathetic existence once and for all and you will be my witness. The throne room. You have 30 minutes.“ With those word, he left as quickly as he had come. Jut another order from him to me.

I went to the morrow and started fixing my hair, but stress continues to fall out. Not even that could work out. Why was I even trying? I did not want to do this. I did not want to go to the throne room and watch my father execute my brother. I did not want to sit by his side patiently like a trained dog. But then what did I want? I should want this. „I am sure you don`t want to hurt your brother Azula.“ The echo of what my mom had said to me a long time ago suddenly come up in my head, and I believed to see here face behind me in the mirror. She used to say that a lot, when Zuko and I had been fighting, just kids starting to get a hold of their bending. „Well, what do you know? You think I am monster anyway.“ I looked her reflection straight in the eye. „ I know you are confused and hurt. But it does not have to be this way. And I love you, Azula.“

„Liar“ I screamed, punching the mirror. Her image scatter to hundreds of tine pieces, each as sharp as a razor blade. I felt a tear running down my cheek as I saw the scrambled reflection of myself on the floor. Yes, I was hurt. And yes, I did not have to be this way. I picked up one of the fragments. It felt cold and heavy in my hand. Today, a member of tis family would die. But it would not be my brother.

When I arrived at the throne room, punctual and a perfect picture of a fire princess, I found it empty except for dad who had already taken place on the throne. „This is family business, so I decided it would be most fitting if we were to remain amongst each other.“ Now where I looked the way he wanted me to look again, it seemed like I also again was worthy of being spoke to in a normal tone. I nodded and closed the door behind me. „I will end your brother right here, where he had the nerve to disrespect me during the day of the black sun.“ I heard my speak, but the words did not really reach me. My heart was beating out of control. This was my chance. My one moment to strike before the guards would come to bring in Zuko. My hand was twisted around the fragment. „Then, it will only be us, Azula. The only ones truly worthy to lead this nation. The only once who deserve to be part of this family.“ Of course. It was up to him to decided who was worthy and who was not. That was what he was best at. Determining everyone`s worth just how he liked. Determining my worth. But no more. I arrived at the spot I normally would kneel. I lowered my head, but not to bow. But to get a better aim.

The fragment flew through the air, directly into my father’s heart. A quite simple move. May had thaught it to me long time ago, in what now felt like another life. And I had not stopped training until I had brought it to perfection. Deadly perfection. My father had not gotten the chance to scream. Now he looked down on himself in disbelieve. Then at me. And then, with blood running out of his mouth and the light in his eyes already fading, I saw that he understood. „Foolish girl.“ His voice was quiet, his life was ending, and still his words struck me. „Don`t you know you only are because of me? You just killed yourself, too.“ Then, his head fell to side. He was dead.

Was I not supposed to feel free now? Or triumphant? Or just anything at all?  Then why did I just feel nothing at all? Still, now, what next? I knew that I had had a plan. All I had to do was breath and follow t through.  I would get May and Ty Lee, and then we would get out of here.

Foolish. As if anything could ever go back to how it was. Do you think they would even care to look at  you? The voice in my head. Why wasn’t it gone? Father was dead. Why was he still talking to me. „Yes they would,“ I exclaimed loudly. „They are my friends. They love me“ Your friends who betrayed you and tried to get you killed? Doesn’t really sound like much love to me. „Then I will make them love me again!“ I felt despair building up, replacing the emptiness. The same way you’d them love you the first time? With a knife to the throat? People like us are not loved Azula, we are feared. I thought I taught you this. I screamed. Even in death, he still seemed to rule over me. Blue fire streamed out of my palms and set the room on fire. I saw the flames rising. I looked so majestic. My beautiful fire, the only thing that had never betrayed me. My beautiful flames. My loyal friends. A part of me wanted to give myself into the completely. Wanted to stay here and be devoured by their heat. What else was there left for me anyway? Everything was out of control. And I was all alone, except for father and his voice inside my head. Mom. Iroh. Zuko. May. Ty Lee. They had all left me. What difference would my death still make?. Would anybody out there even care? They did not leave Azula. You made them go. And they would care. Because they would be relieved. Dying seemed so easy. Every other breath felt hard. If I would die now, did I really just kill father? Or did father also kill me? Suddenly, I felt a new kind of determination in me „You are not going to take me with you father, you hear that ?“ Tears flooded my cheek just to be vaporized in the heat. „I am leaving this. I am leaving you.“ The flames cracked. It nearly sounded like laughter. Just now I realized how far they had processed already. A blue sea  all around me. A blue sea that was out of control. Smoke already clouded my sight. Now as I finally knew I had to get out, as I had just decided to leave father and this place behind, it would not let me go. I could not even make out the door. Just clouds of smoke and flames. And in them… people? Right in front of me, the scheme of a woman manifested. Others followed, surrounding me. Some seemed to be children, others elders. „We came to take you, Azula.“ They came from everywhere now, constantly getting closer. I tried to bend the fire against them, but the flames left them completely unaffected. This wasn’t real. It could not be. I was hallucinating from the smoke, that was all. One more reason to get out of here. „You can’t escape now, Azula. We have been waiting for you for so long.“ I wanted to cover my ears with my hand, but that meant that I would have to let go of the flames I was still trying to get under control well enough to get out. „Who are you? What do you want from me?“ „Oh Azula, you know us well. Can you not recognize us ?“ The woman who had been leading them reached out for me. I backed away and screamed, even though I could barely even fill my lungs anymore. „No! No I do not know you!“ She reached out again. They were everywhere around me now. The only way to escape her touch was to the ground. „But you should, Azula. They are all those who you killed.“  Suddenly, here face got clear, and she wasn’t a scheme anymore. „And a child should be able to recognize her mother“. It was her. The same kind and beautiful face. The soft voice. But no in the strict tone that always seemed to be reserved for me. It was her nice tone. Her Zuko tone. Even though she was speaking about awful things. But what even did she mean ? I did not kill her. Or did I ? Nothing made sense anymore. I killed my father. Why would not I be capable to kill my own mother as well? „Mom“, I whispered, my voice nothing more than a dying hush. She knelt down and reached out her hand. „Come on child. It is time to go.“ My heart was racing. In my lungs, there was nothing but pain. I wanted to let her take me away, just for all of this to stop. But even more, I just wanted to hold my mothers hand again. So I gathered al strength I still had in me and reached out to her. But just as I was about to touch her fingertips, she suddenly started to fade, just like everything around her. Even the flames seemed to get smaller. And another scheme stepped out of the dust and into my view. „Azula?“, he asked. A familiar voice. Zuko. What was he doing here? I didn’t kill him. Or did I ? I sounded like he was getting closer, but I could not keep my eyes open for long enough to watch him. The darkness felt good, calming. „Azula!“ This time he screamed. It definitely was his voice. Could the dead really scream like that? „Azula! Spirits, Azula, what did you do?“

Yes, what did I do? If only I knew.

[creative-robot]

Hi! Thoughts on Marvin&Dark (as friends or in love) and Magic Shenanigans?

While I haven’t heavily considered their interactions/relationship the very thought spawned some ideas, most of these are more friendship leaning but you can interpret it however you like lol

Marvin attempts (1) necromantic spell in Darks mere presence fucks the entire thing up and from that moment Marvin wanted to know What The Fuck Is Up

They’re both rather prone to speaking in circles instead of outright lying but while Dark relies on his resting face to get it across, Marvins more of a ‘distraction!’ kind of person so he doesn’t have to stay on the topic for long, watching them both attempt this at the same time is hilarious

Dark can’t do ‘Magic’ per say and takes a good deal of interest in it, but he can only get so far without being able to experiment on his own but Marvin is MORE than happy to go off on magitional info dumps and really get into what exactly is happening and what if scenarios Dark thinks up

Marv doesn’t ask about Darks whole spooky possibly dead past and Dark doesn’t ask about Marvins whole secretive possibly forbidden history, they’re both okay with this arrangement and if something slips well, they didn’t ask so it’s okay to know right?

Marvin has a habit of relaxing his magic when he’s comfortable or deep in thought with usually results in stuff floating around/by him usually accompanied by some sort of mini light show of sorts, a direct contrast to Darks Aura and lack of general chill, as Darks Aura absorbs all color and most light of whatever it touches but when he’s. Not as tense it does make moving patterns and shapes in the monochrome

^^ They both discovered this during a very interesting conversation about human instinct when Marvin paused midsentence and glanced around in surprise which prompted Dark to notice as well, Marvin sure thought it was interesting and Dark couldn’t help but just kinda stare at the lights in disbelief

Marvin runs past to escape The Consequences of his actions and Dark just grabs him by his cape and clotheslines him

Dark literally never even questions Marvins fashion sense and Marvin respects the lack of reaction his style experiments garner when he tries something out

They do makeup together I don’t make the rules they just do okay

Dark is completely hopeless at games in general and Marvin wins every suited card game he’s in so they avoid that lane of activities since there’s really no point

Dark Chica doesn’t trust Marvin one bit but Marvin puts in the effort to basically just not antagonize her with his presence

Dark sees Marvin heal another egos minor injury and asks about it later, specifically if scars could be healed like that too. Marvin can FEEL that’s there more to this question and has to carefully answer that yes, it does, but only if the skin under it is regenerative in it’s own too. Dark accepts it doesn’t ask about it again but Marvin starts pulling out older tomes and tries to find if theres a way

Marvin doesn’t flinch when Darks shell breaks or the ringing gets louder, but he does stiffen if he hears a staticy glitch noise and Dark usually pulls himself together when it happens and calms down a bit, in return Marv keeps an extra eye out for anything that might result in a shattering noise near Dark and a flick of his wand normally stops it in time if his glare doesnt ward off whoevers about to cause a situation

Dark does inquire about the Mask and the only thing Marvin tells him is ‘some aces only work if you keep them up your sleeve’ and while Dark pretended to knowingly nod he has little idea what that could possibly mean

Darks glare sends a warning and an unease that makes you want to disappear while Marvins makes you feel pinned and under intense examination, anyone shot both these glares at once doesn’t come out the same

Marvin uses more Card game based puns than cat puns and Dark makes it worse by telling him a bunch of game lingo from a different time and Marvin has a FIELD DAY with those, much to Wilfords entertainment too

“Why the hell are you so cold do you need a cape too”

Hope this is okay!! Hit me up if you want any more lol

[danciingflame]

credit (x)

&. BASICS

Full Name: Evelyn Ines Barbosa Phoenix

Nicknames: Phoenix, Phoebe, Ballerina

Age: 96 years old

Sexuality: bisexual

Date of Birth: August 9th 1924

Place of Birth: Lisbon, Portugal

Gender & Species: cis woman & (fire) sprite

Current Location: Ardora, Concordia

&. MORE BASIC INFO

Languages: Portuguese, French, English

Religion: atheist

Education: Graduated from Lisbon’s dance and acting university

Occupation: Principal Dancer/Prima Ballerina of Lisbon

Drinks, Smokes, & Drugs: she began drinking and using Concordia-native drugs after becoming a sprite, otherwise it would have been too damaging to her human body.

&. PERSONALITY

Zodiac Sign: Leo -- The Leo woman is a regal Lioness, queenly in every way. From her royal bearing to her personal style (which tends to be extremely expressive and bold), the Leo woman is strong and comfortable in owning her power, like her planetary ruler, the Sun. Though slightly sweeter-natured and usually a little less over the top than her male counterpart, a lady Leo can still be counted on to take no bull – if you try her, you may live to regret it. It’s best to avoid inciting that Leonine temper if you don’t want to see claws. Should you attempt to mess with her way of being or quality of life (especially anything related to survival: her family, home, or income), she will take you down – hard. Lady Leos are vivacious, full-of-life personalities, and their enthusiasm and ebullience can be completely infectious. They want you to do something wild and fun with them, so being a bump on a log or a stick in the mud will simply not fly for these big cats, who take deep delight in feeling their freedom and exerting their autonomy. 

MBTI: ESFP -- ESFPs are vivacious entertainers who charm and engage those around them. They are spontaneous, energetic, and fun-loving, and take pleasure in the things around them: food, clothes, nature, animals, and especially people.ESFPs are typically warm and talkative and have a contagious enthusiasm for life. They like to be in the middle of the action and the center of attention. They have a playful, open sense of humor, and like to draw out other people and help them have a good time.

Likes: her family (both her human and sprites family ofc), dancing, teaching, partying, the warmth, recklessness, the warmth within Mt. Ardora, silent nights, learning, freedom.

Dislikes: getting her heart broken, liars, people who end up depriving Phoenix of her freedom, people who give up after failing, indifference, injustice, the cold weather, boredom

Bad Habits: lip biting, always has to walk around somehow, or, if everything else is impossible, taps her foot and plays with something (mostly her hair)

Secret Talent: dancing, teaching, love

Hobbies: the wide and dangerous spectrum of love (and she’d like to punch herself for that, actually, lmao), ballet, getting together with her friends to cause some trouble and go on adventures, gossip (but in a non-malicious way), 

Fears: waking up and realizing it was just a dream, being left alone, people avoiding her.

Five Positive Traits: passionate, fiery, compassionate, coquette, ambitious

Five Negative Traits: vengeful, temperamental, distrusting, vain, destructive

Other Mentionable Details: uses her ballet to get rid of her energy, uses dancing as her fighting style to contain her flames and direct them/to engulf herself in flames.

&. APPEARANCE

Tattoos: none

Piercings: earlobes

Reference Picture: ref picture

&. FAMILY INFORMATION

Parent Names: Jaco Barbsa (former soldier) & Linda Barbosa (retired nurse since Phoenix cared for their finances) 

Parent Relationship: she had an excellent relationship with her parents, they mean everything to her and she prays every day for them (despite not being religious, but her parents were)

Sibling Names: she has no siblings

Sibling Relationship: --

Other Relevant Relative: NAME UP TO POSSIBLE PLAYER -- (technically) husband. His whereabouts are unknown, but Phoenix believes he’s dead. And if he isn’t yet then he better run.

Children: --

Pets: --

&. BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, heartbreak, stalking )

Little Evelyn Barbosa was a creation of pure love. Her father, Jaco Barbosa, had returned from war and was celebrated within Lisbon as one of the few making it back alive. He’d fallen in love with a shy and compassionate but stubborn young woman named Linda. The charme of a soldier appealed to her and, not even a few years later, Evelyn was born into a world torn apart by coups, death and anarchy.  No one questioned legitimacy as she’d always been a calm and sweet baby, smiling at the silliest pee-a-boo jokes. Despite her parents not being married, they stayed together despite the backlash from their families and even friends. A strong, grounded love in the midst of war. A love like her parents was the first she got to know. It was a love that made her childhood so comforting despite the ongoing wars within their midst. While the government struggled to uphold rules and even leaders, Evelyn remained in close proximity to her parents and their warmth. She grew up in a small, but lovely cottage in Belém, hidden away from the terrors of this world. One could even say she’d been sheltered and smothered with love -- others might, she certainly never did. Evelyn decided, at an early age, to repay her parents by aiming for a higher education, to eventually buy them a beautiful finca and enough food so they’d never have to worry about anything else. She turned out to be a little miracle, a progeny, a muse.

Dancing lifted her spirit, made her feel alive, burning with passion and dedication to the craft. Especially ballet. The pirouettes and poses, the blood, sweat and tears one had to give to perfection such beauty -- Evelyn enjoyed the idea of being excellent at something so extraordinary, watched and admired by thousands. She trained for years to come and, with a scholarship at one of Portugal’s best ballet companies (what would later rebrand and become the national ballet of Portugal in Lisbon), Evelyn fully committed to becoming a professional ballet dancer. With such a natural talent like hers, paired with the passion needed to survive against all the competition, enabled Evelyn to graduate with honors. This is when love intervened. Not only after a year of performing on the big stage, Evelyn met her match -- a young, handsome and charming man. They locked eyes and Evelyn was fun over, just like that. Five times he went to the same play before Evelyn eventually gave in and decided to get to know him. Saying she wasn’t in love would’ve been a lie, no, in reality she’d fallen in love with him the moment they locked eyes. With her career unfolding and with herself slowly making some decent money, Evelyn eventually bought her parents the finca she’d always promised them. With herself on top of the world, Evelyn let herself fall into the arms of one of the only people she truly trusted.

The war arrived in Portugal at a time in which Evelyn finally tried to talk to him. Both her father and the stranger she’d fallen for were drafted and Evelyn put all her energy back into ballet. Each day her anxiety increased and the news got worse with more and more people dying. She’d hoped for good news -- her father arrived first, wounded by a gunshot wound in his right arm, then, a few days later, he returned -- perfectly fine and barely changed. While this should've raised red flags for basically everybody else, Evelyn remained clueless and naive. Maybe he was just one of the lucky ones and had been able to prevent any injuries. She dedicated a large portion of her time to him after the war in the hopes of making up for all the lost minutes with him. Evelyn got engaged rather quickly after spending some wonderful weeks with him and, not even two months after their engagement, the two got married with all the glitz and glamor possible in their post-war world. They honeymooned on the coast of Portugal while reality struck her like lightning. All her belongings -- gone for good. Evelyn spent most of her honeymoon searching for answers, she even went as far as to believe he’d been kidnapped. Yet, her search ended up in various dead-ends.

Like a bird with broken wings Evelyn found herself grounded, completely lost of all her innocence and naivete. Her pink tinted glasses turned red and with that her mood completely changed. Instead of channelling her passion for ballet, Evelyn requested the next few weeks off to find out more after there’d been rumors of him being spotted in the Caribbeans. A fire ignited inside of her, pushing Evelyn forward towards her husband. The closer she got towards the Caribbeans, the more hope she had that everything would be alright in the end. There was still the possibility of him returning to her, of him just being kidnapped. Evelyn would never find out since the plane she’d boarded crashed and burned before she could even reach him. She awoke in a strange, but beautiful world. Evelyn survived her personal hellfire and emerged as a new person. Less naive, less tender and with her innocence lost she joined the fire sprites on her quest to true love. The passion located in her heart fit perfectly into the ranks of the fire sprites, as did her rage. She channelled the intensity of her personality by using fire and from that a Phoenix arose out of the ashes of everything she’d lost. Ardora not only provided her with the perfect opportunity to change, but it also opened a completely new world to her in which she could start anew without worrying about anything, or anyone, else. Phoenix completely devoted herself to the social structure of her new home, like she always did. From her fighting skills to her place within Ardora -- she cared and made sure she’d remain important and respected. She rarely got out of her shell at first, but it didn’t take too long for Phoenix to warm up to everyone else. With self-love everything seemed possible now. Phoenix arose with an appetite to express herself, to dance surrounded by fire, to test her limits. A sense of freedom completely took over from there and with the new name a completely new person entered this world: hardened, free, passionate. She crammed all her missed out years into a few months, went from exciting activity to the next big thing, hoping to keep that rush alive inside of her. It would never go out, that she’d only realize a few decades later. The fire inside of her, bright and warm, would never go out again. And that naive, little girl described in the beginning, eyes as bright as stars and her heart filled with love? Phoenix loved to surround herself with fire now, fully embracing the previously asleep firebug within -- her spark would soon ignite the hearts of many -- and she would gladly pour all her energy into welcoming the next generation.

[fevertowrite]

hi! BIG fan of your wattpad story no use. While it is sad you ended it so soon with 34 chapters I have a small request. If it is possible, I would like a small follow up? Maybe on what the Shredder did to Donnie all this time? Or Donnie's thoughts when he left, got captured, was harmed and then returned home? Either is alright with me but I would really love to know what happened. Thank you for taking the time to read this comment

Hey ! Thanks so much for reading this story and being a BIG fan !! That means so much to me :)!!! I wrote a little drabble under the cut, but I tried adding both situations into this, and if it’s not what you’re looking for, by all means send me another detailed request and I’ll do my best :D! 

His anger clouded his mind as he made his way to the junkyard. Donnie didn’t get angry often, but when he did it’s been towards Leo. His brother been annoying him about the cure for Karai, the sleepless nights made him more agitated when Leo gets to have more than 7 hours of sleep and he’s on his third day of barely two hours of sleep.

 Maybe it was due to the storm coming up that lead his mind to go foggy, or the fact anger clouded his judgment of the storm coming earlier than he thought. He just needed to grab a piece and go, but the howling winds and the paranoia were kicking in. Maybe if he turned back now, apologized to Leo and actually go to sleep, he can go another day.

 Looking up at the dark, loomed sky, he knew another day meant weeks or even months and they don’t have time to sit around waiting for the snow to end. Their sister could be on the verge of dying, she was alone and couldn’t control herself, and Donnie owed her that much to at least save her.

 Donnie picked up a scrap of metal, and in the reflection, he was able to turn around and block the incoming sword coming his way with his bo. He thanked whatever made him the urge to pick up that metal but destroying that one random bot he knew something was wrong. Foot bots came like a pack of wolves, he needed to go before –

 At least 30 of these bots sprang out of nowhere, and Donnie was surrounded. He had no choice but to fight, the snow started to flutter, and the storm was going to kick in soon, Donnie had to act fast.

 “Can’t we do this another night?” He groaned at them, as he pulled out the naginata from his bo, and as the crowd of bots came closer to him, their weapons out gleamingly into the night, he fought as hard as he can.

 But it wasn’t enough.

 Quickly, he was outmatched, they knocked his bo out of his hands, and there were at least 20 bots, or it seemed like more were coming out. He swore there were 15, and now –

 He was hit on the back of his knees, and it took his breath out as another kicked him straight to the throat. Wheezing, he took out his phone to alert his brothers, maybe they can’t come due to the storm, but they would know at least that he’s going to die.

 With the cold taking over his body, and being stabbed, kicked and punched, and maybe even burned? He couldn’t feel anything as his body fell numb, was it due to the storm or were they beating the crap out of him that he lost all feeling?

 With the last of his strengths, he slurred: “T-phone…ssself destruct.” He didn’t even feel his phone being snatched from him; he watched his phone crumble under the hands of the foot, he laid his head on the concrete, letting the billows of snow go on top of him.

 At least he knew his brothers will be safe. 

 x

 The constant questioning Donnie was enduring sort of wished that he was dead. 

 Finding out he survived the ambush, probably because Shredder didn’t want him dead, yet, meant that torturing and questioning would have to do.

 As he laid in his own prison cell, counting the days he’s been in here, hours and minutes, he knew that the probability of his brothers coming for him was 0.3%.

 He knew that they knew he was gone, kidnapped for sure ‘cause his bo was left at the junkyard and the rest of his stuff, maybe. He told Leo two hours he would be gone, and it’s been over 30.

 “You know,” Baxter said behind the cell, smirking at the turtle. “If you talk, Master Shredder won’t kill you.”

 “Beat it, Stockboy.” He tried sounding tough like Raph, maybe it will raise his chances of survival, or worse, he would die quicker.

 “Oh, giving attitude? Strange coming from you, but not eating for almost two days now gets to a man, err turtle. You do realize your brothers aren’t coming for you, so maybe you should start talking.” Baxter wrapped his hands around the bar, leaning on them to hear the turtle talk. His voice was strained from the screaming, he was being tortured like there was no tomorrow and he knew the little comfort Donnie gave himself wasn’t going to last.

 But Donatello was a smart turtle, and it seemed like it’s been lacking since the only thing he has was water, and not enough to survive.

 “Talking? You think because my brothers aren’t here, I’ll start talking?” Donnie gave a scoff of a chuckle, “I’d do anything to protect them.” He knew Shredder sent Baxter to talk to him because they had the most common. They were both geniuses who were looked down upon, but he had thick skin, Stockman wasn’t going to break him easily.

 “Alright,” Baxter tightened his lips in a hum, “your chances of survival are slim, I say you won’t make it by the end of the week.”

 “I’ll take it.” Donnie said, maybe a little too quick, “Anything for them.”

 x

He knew his time was coming up when his breaths became too shallow and he could barely talk. But the Shredder kept on insisting, over and over and over and over, it was driving him nuts.

 “I’m not saying…” He licked the blood off his top lip, feeling the bruise, the swelling as Shredder punched him repeatedly, everywhere. He was his punch dummy, and each time he would torture him, Donnie thought that the Shredder was doing it for some sick entertainment and not to find his home.

 “I’m getting tired of this, turtle.” Shredder told him in the most monotone, angry voice he could give. “I want answers now!” His gauntlets shot out, and he pressed it along Donnie’s neck.

 “Do it, I dare you.” He spat blood on the floor next to his shoulder, waiting for death to claim him. He was tired, he was tired of talking, of waiting for his brothers. It’s been too long, why was Shredder keeping him alive?

 “Alright, turtle,” Shredder pulled his gauntlet away from the turtle’s neck and kicked his shell so Donnie would be laying on his stomach. He looked at the bruised head and pointed the gauntlet towards it. “Say goodbye.”

 “I’ll see you in hell.” Don laughed, almost mockingly, and then a white sharp pain hit him, before there was nothing.

 x

He woke up to something light yet heavy falling onto him.

 It was white, and he slowly staggered up, staring into the obliviousness into the world. His body ached, and he didn’t know why.

 He didn’t know where he was, who he is, or how he got here, but, his head. He placed his hand on the back of his head, and slowly crept out of the narrowed area.

 He stared blankly, seeing the pillows of white surround him, as he shivered. There were colors all over, bright colors, that clashed against the people’s dark clothing.

 He walked straight ahead, hearing the honks and screeching as he tried to make his way.

 Donnie was confused, with everything. Everything was, confusing. Nothing felt right, the faces in front of him showed emotion he didn’t – couldn’t – understand. So, he stood still, hearing screams, and people yell at his face, until something – someone – pulled him away.

 “Dude… what…thinking…know.” He stared towards the wall, swaying, he was yelling like the people. He didn’t understand, nor who he was.

 Orange pulled him arm, the one holding his head, and stared at his hand. There was nothing wrong with his hand, but he let Orange examine him.

 Orange took off his mask, that made him look not orange, and he balled it up and put it on his head. He hissed, he heard a murmur and his arm was hooked over the smaller one and was dragged away.

 His eyes felt heavy, his legs hurt, and his body burnt. His knees collapsed under him, and small was able to pick him up.

 He felt safe, his head dipped a couple time, and feeling like it was led, he crashed onto smalls shoulder.

 x

Waking up was a scary thing, because each time he did he was somewhere new. Yet, he felt like he was in a similar place.

 The place was metal, and the smell was strong with chemicals and this turtle wore red.

 Red picked him up and he dug his nails into his arm and tightened up. He didn’t like that; he didn’t want strangers touching him. Red placed him on something soft, but his head didn’t like the pressure, and turned to see Orange staring at him.

 “Hey…!” Orange voice drowned, and he wasn’t listening to him. He moved his head away, staring at the floor.

 There were papers and metal scattered on said floor, and his arms were wrapped in white, stained with red.

 He felt an arm wrap over him, and he looked at Orange.

 Everything looked wrong, everything felt confusing, but his sense of smell never forgot what home was.

 He grabbed Oranges hand, and half listened to some random babble he was saying, Orange was close to him, but he couldn’t figure out who he was.

 Orange showed his teeth, and he stared at it, not knowing what it meant.

 But Orange looked just like him, and Red did also.

 Something soft was pulled over him, and he snuggled the best he can.

 Orange kissed his sore head, and as he closed his eyes, he knew everything was going to be okay.

 Even if he didn’t know what okay was.

[elmidol]

A New Tapestry

Three Blind Tooke Part Three Death is an Art

Read on AO3

Warnings: None(?)

Three Blind Tooke 

 Part Three: Death is an Art

 Chapter Forty-Five: A New Tapestry

 Yet even a mere shell is not my end,

As it fills with new things while on the mend;

And so my life carried on beyond you,

While I became someone I loved, someone new.

 Ripples broke over the surface of the water as the liquid pool was disrupted by the insertion of dust particles. It had been nearly half a day since the Resistance had moved, along with you, to this new, temporary base. Five days since you had been face to face with Kylo Ren, since Urvno had drawn blood from you. Your subconscious had posed the question regarding the Dark side user creating a clone of you for his own entertainment. That bad dream, not quite a nightmare, had disturbed your sleep to the point that you had taken medication to eliminate any possibility of remembering what else your unconscious mind could conjure. On a conscious level, you doubted that Kylo Ren would do such a thing. That clone would share genetic makeup, however it would not be you. It would not have all of your experiences. It wouldn’t be the same, and the man did not seem the sort to want some cheap imitation. Somehow that was comforting.

 The news of Kylo Ren’s survival had spread throughout the Resistance much as the ripples now moved. You pinched the sides of the small bag closed, blocking any more dust from escaping. These were not the ashes of your enemy as Ren had collected. They were nevertheless remnants from an ally. In this case, it had been a droid that was destroyed. It had been easy to briefly entertain the idea of starting a collection of your own. The fact that your former captor and host had survived, that had proven to alleviate much of the guilt that you had thrust upon yourself. You felt more in control of your life, your destiny.

 Too many choices had been stolen from you. When in that moment you had decided to let Kylo Ren live, be it only on that mission or for longer, it had been a punch in the gut, a blow to your fragile mental and emotional health, to have that stolen away by Captain Phasma.

 The dark depths of the cavern, brightened by the humming, electronic torch you had placed into a makeshift holder, was enveloped in more light. The footsteps that had been periodically echoing around you at last drew to an end as the individual from which they had come arrived at your side. General Organa had put you under Dameron’s charge after you had returned. You were once more benched, although you could not say that you blamed your superiors. Circumstances had given you a sense of whiplash that you were recovering from. Plus, you rather liked the man and how he watched your back. He had been on a mission with Finn, during which the younger had reportedly utilized what bits of training in the Force that Master Skywalker had provided.

 You could not imagine what it was like to be Force sensitive. Or, you could. You could, and sometimes you did, and you agonized over the idea of feeling death so completely. The void that must arise, such as the one you had felt when you had lost your father and thought you had lost your mother, on a deeper level.

 This was all but another reason you found comfort in Poe’s presence. His senses were as deadened as your when it came to the Force.

 “It isn’t your fault that the...Order of Ren,” he said, snorting out the name and shaking his head, “has possession of your ship.” It would be easy to deny what he had said, to pin the blame on yourself as you had been doing mentally ever since you had awoken in the cockpit of Rey’s X-wing. You crossed your arms over your chest then raised your eyes from the puddle of water to the shadows playing on the walls of the cavern. “We know everything that was on that ship. We’re still a step ahead of them.”

 He was not wrong in that either. You huffed out the last bit of annoyance that you had been entertaining. A new wave rolled over you when Dameron revealed his reason for coming to you; Master Skywalker wanted to speak with you. This remained a difficult avenue. You admired the man for the part he had played in defeating the Emperor, in taking down the Empire. It still remained that he was a relative of Kylo Ren. He was your uncle in a way as well, with the fact that you had married his nephew. You feared what he would say in regards to the Force, in regards to the fact that it was now common knowledge you had not had a hand in killing Kylo. It was not as though he could train you in the ways of the Force. You imagined that the desired meeting would be more personal in nature.

 You pinched the rings that were on the chain you wore around your neck, gave Poe one last final glance, and picked up the torch on the way out of the cavern. Your footfalls echoed off the stone walls.

 They died in a matter of minutes. Instead of forcing you to leave the cavern completely, Luke Skywalker had met you halfway. He wore darker pants along with a top that was what you sometimes referred to as Resistance-red. The shirt was new. Your eyes travelled along its length as you slowed your pace then came to a stop. The hand fell away from the rings. Your gaze rose to his face, to the neatly trimmed beard. The facial hair failed to conceal the soft smile of greeting. The expression was guarded, not overly-friendly. As though he could feel that you had thrown up your guard.

 “Care to take a walk?”

 You almost flinched at the fact that he was offering you an out. It was so human, so different than how many others approached you. Either with too much caution, or far too boldly. This man, hero of the Rebellion, was not acting as though he was above you, that you should feel humbled that he was speaking to you at all. Before you had been captured, you would have felt it such an honor to be in his presence. Now?

 “Okay.”

 He was just another person, another one of the leaders of the Resistance cause.

 Luke waited until you were level with him before starting to walk as well. The two of you were side by side, neither speaking a word. The apprehension that you had been experiencing did not fully fade, however it eased. It then dissipated more when he began to speak.

 “It is easy to be overwhelmed by darkness. Just one moment, and fearing it can change everything.” He was speaking of how he had nearly killed his nephew that fateful night. “What I saw in him…”

 As he trailed off, you found yourself picking up the conversation. “It was more than that, wasn’t it? That made you go to Ahch-To.”

 A light chuckle escaped him, one that was tinged with humor along with a hint of self-deprecation. It was not his proudest moment; going to that planet, to that island to die. Here was the man who had faced his father numerous times, had been tempted to join the Dark. He had not given up hope. Yet when confronted with a similar situation with his nephew, with a Ben Solo who had not yet fully succumbed to the Darkㅡnot that you were aware of, at leastㅡhe had fled. You knew that it was not exactly that simple. His other students had been slaughtered. That much death.

 “You clung to hope,” he said, and you heard the praise for what it was. Your jaw trembled, bottom lip threatening to quiver. The two of you were nearing the mouth of the cavern. Light had started to creep along the stone. “You and I, we both lost those we care for to him. We both had moments where we nearly killed him. Have you blamed yourself, thought that you pushed him further into Darkness?”

 Your next inhalation was sharp, sudden. You swayed in place, nearly dropping to your knees. Luke caught you, his hand firm on your upper arm. It had failed to hit you in the past just how similar your experiences were in that respect. A different intimate relationship with the man who now commanded the Order of Ren. You had blamed yourself. Had questioned your actions. Had told yourself that you were fighting the darkness, the evil; even after you had conceded that there was Light in Kylo Ren, you had nevertheless fought against him. How much harder had it been for Luke, who had watched Ben Solo as a boy? Who had had that moment of weakness beforeㅡbut was it before? The dark thoughts that Ben had been entertaining. The desire. Would he have succumbed even if Luke hadn’t acted as he had?

 “There are many what-ifs.” He made a vague wave with his mechanical hand. “What if Snoke had built an army of Force sensitives instead of keeping their powers unknown to them, or at bay? What if the New Republic had listened to Leia? What if I had never left Tatooine? I gave into those what-ifs after I saw the ruins, the bodies of my students. I went away to die… I regretted that I had tried to kill him, but also regretted that I had not killed him.”

 “Snoke would have found someone else,” you offered. Yet another what-if. You snorted at your words, and Master Skywalker patted your shoulder. “I know I need to move forward. I just feel that I keep making things worse. The ship… Dameron says we’re ahead of that, but it is still a blow.”

 “If you hadn’t been there, all of our pilots would have been killed. Possibly Dameron himself if he had been running the exercise. There was no winning in that situation. Kylo planned the attack wellㅡor Hux would have destroyed the ships, taken captives. Any number of things can go wrong. We must learn from our failures. My old Master and Rey, they taught me that.”

 Captain Phasma and Hux managing to get the upper hand on Kylo Ren had had little to do with you, when you thought about it. There were more scenarios that would have resulted in the same thing, in worse things. Upon Kylo’s death, you had fallen in the same way that Luke had. Though you had not sought death, you had all the same secluded yourself. What if Kylo Ren hadn’t revealed that he had come back to life? Would you have travelled down that same path of self-destruction that Luke himself had started on following his mistake that fateful night? The man’s concern was on multiple levels.

 “Did Rey ask you to talk with me?” You and her had been working to mend the friendship that had fractured. It was an awkward dance from time to time.

 Luke stated that she had not been the cause of his visit. Poe had suspected that you would not be entirely receptive to his comforting words, which had prompted the pilot to reach out. You felt a warmth flood you at that. No matter how many walls you put up, those who cared for you refused to let you barricade yourself entirely. The Resistance was like on large family; that train of thought had you reminding yourself that you needed to sit with your mother, as you had promised to do before the day ended. Peace was not a guarantee.

 You thumbed the electronic torch, powering down its beam. Daylight forced you to shield your eyes until you better adjusted. The man who had walked with you offered but a brief farewell then left. He had business to take care of, either training or a mission. You stared after him. Thought of Finn, who would likely be catching up with Rey and Rose. Dameron would join you in under an hour, or at least that is the impression that you had been given. It would be foolish for anyone to rest for prolonged periods. Kylo Ren was building an army of Force sensitives. Supreme Leader Hux was hunting down the Resistance and those who could wield the Force.

 Temporary shelter from the sun was given by way of a tarp stretched across several poles. There were three of these available, each of them with two benches underneath. For the past few days, that had been where individuals ate between work. It was simple to spot your mother in the centermost section. She nursed a cup of caf. Had it been evening, that would have been tea instead.

 She placed the cup on the tabletop then reached for you with both of her hands. You walked into her embrace. Returned it, albeit briefly, and sat down beside her. She had been much quieter ever since learning that Kylo Ren was alive. Her political ties had done limited good for the Resistance thus far, however she had recently made some headway with one contact. Kylo was a distraction. More specifically, how you were reacting to the news was a distraction for your mother. She did not know how to feel in regards to the relief that you had experienced.

 “You’re drinking it black,” you said softly, wrinkling your nose. She drummed her nails on the side of the cup, tilted her head. “General Organa told me of your progress.”

 “Mm.” Your mother pulled the cup nearer to her again. “This is not how I imagined working with you.” No bitterness, only a bit of sorrow over the circumstances, which you could understand completely. “There are younger children with the Force. My contact would be able to help shelter them from this warㅡfrom both Hux and Ren.” She was watching you, gauging your reactions. You slid your hand atop hers, verbally assuring her that you were not rooting for Kylo Ren. You wanted those children away from the war. Hux would see them dead. Kylo would… You wanted to say that he would not pull them into battle, however you did not know if he wouldn’t start training them, indoctrinating them. “They’re going to need pilots.”

 Your heart hammered in your chest. This was something that, if General Organa and your other superiors approved, you would be able to do. Something that would improve the galaxy, would save lives, would protect what was dear to you. You had no intention of removing yourself completely from battle. Until you recovered, however, this would do.

 What might prevent you from being cleared was the possibility that these runs would make you a desirable target for Hux or Ren. The First Order would want you dead along with those children. The Order of Ren, on the other hand… Maker, you wished you could read minds, even if only temporarily. If your last run-in set precedence, the possibility remained that you would not be killed. The children would be safer. Or perhaps that was you beginning down the road of an ego trip.

 Movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. You twisted your torso to watch Dameron do a mini-jog out of the cavern. He headed straight for you. BB-8 rolled forward to meet him, chirping audibly and receiving a pat on the top of his dome. The droid and pilot remained near one another the entire time as Poe deposited himself in the seat across from you and BB-8 lingered on the ground behind him. Your mother greeted Dameron, the pair falling into standard pleasantries. You waited for one to deliver the line the weather’s nice today, however neither ever did. It was no secret that your mother had been in opposition to the formation of the Resistance initially. Obviously her opinion had changed given circumstances, yet there were those in the Resistance that had not held their tongues when giving a roundabout I told you so. General Organa attributed these attitudes to age, and oftentimes this was true. There was none of that from Poe. That did not mean neither held reservations when it came to speaking with the other.

 They were dancing around the topic of your being assigned to assist on the upcoming mission. This was amusing to you given that your mother had just talked about it with you. Which meant that you were quick to grow impatient.

 “Am I on the assignment?” you asked. There was an edge in your tone that made you wince and wonder if you should apologize. Displaying weakness was not something you feared in the presence of these two; not that owning up to a mistake was a sign of being weak. Your mother tugged her cup of caf upwards, sipping it while locking eyes with Dameron. The decision had yet to be made, though there were clearly discussions regarding your inclusion. One major determining factor lay in the fact that on your previous mission, you had lost all of your comrades as well as your ship. Assigning you to a new starship when the Resistance was in such short supply… Unless, you thought, the Resistance would not be supplying the transport. That could very well be part of the negotiations with your mother’s contact. “Is it when I was under the influence of the Force?” How many people had witnessed your belligerent behavior when you had been under that spell? They might not want you if they recognized you.

 Dameron straightened out his spine before tilting his head at a small angle. His body was facing your mother, however his eyes were locked on yours. Poe had been benched at one point due to his behavior. He had to obey the chain of command or else face a demotion. This meant that even if he personally believed you were fit for the mission, his wisest choice would be to hold his tongue. You thought you saw conflict in his expression. He did not know what to say to you.

 Feeling rather deflated, you nodded to display that you would not pressure either of them. They were on your side in this, would do what they could to help you so that you could assist the Resistance, the galaxy as a whole. There was a different reason that Poe had come to the table with you and your mother. A likely deduction was that he wished to do an attitude check following your discussion with Luke Skywalker.

 A new flight simulator had been provided by one of the allies of the Resistance; Poe and Finn had returned from their mission roughly the same time as another Resistance member, who had flashed the newly obtained item to Dameron. Modifications on older ships coupled with purchases of different models meant that pilots would best serve themselves by studying via the sim. You thought back to the stream of positive warmth that had enveloped you earlier, around the time of Poe’s return. Initially you had believed that Rey had been elated to see her friendㅡnot that this was no longer plausibleㅡhowever knew that the simulator would also provide such a reaction from the female Force user.

 She had learned how to pilot crafts by using a simulator while on Jakku. You found your mind wandering to the stories she had told of her lonely childhood. Still, here she was. Struggling with the fact that she was being regarded as a hero, that she was as important a symbol of hope as Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa. This was not what she had believed her life would be like. She worried that she would fail, that she was not worthy.

 The Knight of Ren that had defected, that had joined her side, seated himself on the far end of the table. His presence was jarring. You had not noticed him coming, you had been too wrapped up in your thoughts. You looked at him, more specifically at the armor that he wore. He was again donning the helmet and armor that he had worn while under Kylo Ren’s command. Your mother excused herself, grabbed up her cup of caf, and offered only a quick I’ll see you later to you before taking her leave. The Knight did not flinch, did not react at all as far as you could see. Poe reacted differently to the other man’s arrival. He mentioned the flight sim again, prompting the Knight to turn his helmeted head to look at the pilot.

 A new discussion arose, this time Dameron and the Knight being the participants while you remained nothing more than an audience member along with the droid. It was the Knight that had provided the intel necessary for the other Resistance member to gain access to the simulation. The First Order, and thus the Knights of Ren as well, had dealt with some suppliers known by the Resistance. Some of the developers of weapons and defense systems had made rough copies. Those programs were sold on the Black Market to competitors. It had also birthed copies of flight sims, which were compiled onto a single datachip. Some of the newer TIEs and other First Order fighter vessels were featured among transports.

 You felt as though you were beginning to float out of your body. Lightheaded. Taken aback by the fact that this former follower of Kylo Ren had provided much needed intel for the Resistance. The First Order fleet was large in comparison to the Resistance, however learning how to pilot some of its ships would mean that infiltration would be a better option. Stealing ships right from under their noses. Knowing how to work them. TIEs were temperamental, which Poe Dameron knew from personal experience.

 Dameron gestured to the Knight with his head then to you. “If it’s cleared, the two of you will be working more closely.” You narrowed your eyes without looking towards the Knight. It was not disappointment or anger that you felt. Concern, though. Trust was not an easy thing to hand out, even if this man had already proven himself. The words he had spoken to you after Kylo’s death, though, still stung. There had been no positive interactions. “Work it out, kids.”

 You nearly rolled your eyes at that. He had not used the term in a condescending way so much as acknowledging the clear tension. BB-8 released a noise that sounded rather catty. It drew a laugh from your superior, who then gave a wave while rising and walking away.

 Silence wrapped around you, prompting you to strain to listen to everything else occuring on the temporary base. The flight sim would not be available for you to use immediately. Otherwise you might have suggested that both of you work on that together. If the program allowed it, that is. You puffed up your cheeks. Heard another ship breaking atmosphere. A friendly. You could tell by the sound of the engine. Boy would that be changing once the Resistance fleet expanded. Plus you would potentially be working with non-Resistance personnel. Kids too.

 “Pain?”

 The inquiry revealed to you that you had winced. It remained a touchy thing, the subject of children. The truth was that you did not know how to feel about that quite yet.

 You waved a hand in the air. “Not exactly.” A pause. You sucked your lips into your mouth and pressed your teeth on them, albeit not in a biting fashion. There was an intimacy in sharing your feelings that you did not know whether or not you were ready for. That, too, would require a level of trust to exist between you and the Knight. There were countless arguments for either side. Poe’s words echoed in your head. Taking a deep breath, you wrapped your arms around your waist and leaned forward, hunching your shoulders. The Knight shifted back a little. He had not removed his gaze from you, and your inability to see his face made it difficult for you to read his motivations. “Thoughts of war.” This was not a lie, although the vague nature of the statement drew a snort from the man.

 Once more did a hush fall over the table. You swallowed down the saliva that had begun to gather in your mouth. The situation that you were in with this man reminded you of the awkwardness that had existed with Kylo Ren. There was, of course, no threat of being tortured here. No fear of being raped, subjected to interrogationㅡwell, perhaps that was not quite true. Personal inquiries were always a possibility when it came to trust exercises, which you suspected the pair of you would be dealing with. The damned mask was what did it. Those first visits from Kylo Ren when he had worn the helmet, when you had been able to view him as a creature.

 This time your bottom lip did quiver. The tips of your fingers dug into your sides, and you squeezed your eyes closed. Pictured Naboo, the greenery, the florals.

 “We kill a part of ourselves every day.”

 Your eyes snapped open, attention darting back to the Knight. You were trembling at the truth behind those words. At the familiarity in them, how they reminded you of the things that your father had said in regards to monsters and monster slayers.

 “They find it difficult to trust me. We know the reasons are valid.” We, because it was the same reason those in the Resistance struggled to trust you. You and the Knight were compromised. That happened when one spent too much time with the opposition. “I hadn’t wanted him to die.”

 “I hadn’t either...not at that point.” His chin dipped in a nod, and you again thought of the helmeted Kylo from your days of early captivity. This time the resemblance hurt less. This Knight was treading on the gray area of war, and you were willing to join him. To look beyond death towards the future. “So we would be the two pilots. One of us the co-pilot.” Another snort, this one containing unhidden amusement. Your lips tugged to one side into a smirk. “I will wait until we have results from the flight simulator. I am a capable pilot, but I won’t put my pride above the lives of those we would be transporting.”

 The Knight of Ren tapped the side of his helmet with two fingers. “If you combine the two names��� Supernova and tooke… Super tooke.”

 “Oh, please don’t,” you said, grimacing.

 “Pride.”

 “Self-respect.” He hummed, conceding defeat on that point. The first layer of trust received a new thread.

[faith-in-the-forecast]

My Honest Thoughts On The Netflix Film “To The Bone”

{possible trigger warning}

{spoilers}

I know this isn’t a hot topic anymore and that I’m late to the punch, but in this post I’m going to be discussing the Netflix original movie To The Bone and giving my honest thoughts and feeling about the film and how eating disorders were portrayed throughout it. 

I am fully aware that the intention of this film was more so to entertain than to educate, but remember that I watched this movie and am writing this through the lens of someone that has struggled with eating disorders off and on for about 6 years. Some of my points and arguments may be trivial, I am simply sharing how I perceived the film and what I would’ve liked to see. I will also be discussing parts that I thought were good! I am trying not to be too knit-picky or critical, and instead take the film at face value and with a grain of salt, while still offering my humble opinions! 

I didn’t go into watching this film with high hopes. It’s hard to go into any film about ED’s with an optimistic attitude at this point, as they are often horribly inaccurate and glamorize the disorders. I was honestly surprised at how well To The Bone did at not glamorizing or romanticizing the illness too much. It was by no means perfect at it, but it acknowledged a lot of physical dangers that can come along with eating disorders: health problems, fertility problems, and death. 

This is by no means the most triggering film I’ve seen about eating disorders, but I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone who is in a fragile state of their disorder or recovery. Some possible triggering elements could be the focus on thinness and weight, some of the lingo used, and obviously some of the symptoms that are seen or implied. I’m going to start off with some things I wasn’t so crazy about and then move on to what I really liked!

One of the big things I would say is this: If you are looking for a realistic view of what eating disorder treatment is like, this isn’t your movie. I understand that the treatment center portrayed is run by an unconventional, quirky doctor with unique methods and the place is more of a group home type feel, but I just don’t get the impression that this type of treatment would actually go over well in practice. I think the treatment center was great for the story line and made sense in the plot, but I would’ve liked to see something a little bit more realistic. The patients are basically running the show, they don't seem to be monitored much if at all during meals, and they get away with a lot (purging in bags, not having room checks, exercising at night, and going on day passes alone.) They also get to eat whatever and however much they want. It’s just weird to think that someone who knows nothing about ED treatment could see this and think that’s what it’s typically like at a common program.

Another aspect I wasn’t crazy about was how I didn’t feel the patients completely supported one another in their individual recoveries. Sure, there were bright moments of bonding and support that were great! But I noticed sometimes it seems like they were trying to trigger one another? They talk about weight with each other at some points and bring up numbers. Towards the beginning when one of the residents is worried about her feeding tube, Ellen, the main character, explicitly tells her how many calories are in the tube feed. I was irritated by this because anyone who had been in treatment like Ellen has (4 times inpatient) would know you never talk calories in a group. Also, why would you try to freak someone out about that?! This was one of the few times I was frustrated with our main character. Also, a fellow patient offers to get Ellen laxatives in exchange for her not snitching about catching her purging. This is so toxic and not supportive and it honestly made me a little sad. I know this kind of stuff happens, but I guess I am blessed to say that my recovery buddies have always been extremely supportive and we would never dream of trying to trigger one another deliberately or give each other tools to make our disorders worse. I feel like most people going through an eating disorder wouldn’t wish that hell on anyone and would do everything in their power to make sure they’re not making someone else sicker too.

Those were just a few things I couldn’t get behind, but it’s also important to talk about the parts that weren’t so bad! I absolutely LOVED that different types of eating disorders were represented through the other patients. There was diversity, including a young man with anorexia, that showed eating disorders can happen to anyone. I thought it also represented that we all deserve help, and that eating disorder treatment is a place that welcomes everyone. I would’ve liked to see the film go a little more in depth to each individual patient’s story a bit more as we only got vague details. Just a thought! 

Something I could relate to was Ellen’s spunk and sense of humor throughout some situations. While sometimes I think it might’ve been taken a bit far, it was refreshing to see an angsty and spunky individual suffering from an eating disorder represented. Usually in eating disorder films we see a timid girl with little self awareness and next to no personality. I think they did a great job in casting Lily Collins. 

I also really loved how the family dynamic was represented. Eating disorders affect not only the sufferer but also their family, and the movie did a great job of showing this. I appreciated that how shitty and uncomfortable family therapy is was shown. I thought the step mom was a great character because she represented that someone who is always trying to help and has great intentions, but just has no clue how to go about it or what’s appropriate, like when she whipped out that burger cake. It also showed her trying to control Ellen’s first appointment with the doctor and share all her theories, clearly thinking she was being helpful but actually just overpowering the situation.

And can we talk about how wonderful the sister was? She was supportive, but at the same time didn’t act like she was walking on egg shells around Ellen. She treats Ellen like a person, not a disorder. One of my favorite moments was when she tells Ellen,”if you die, I’ll kill you.”

One adorable moment I have to mention is that when the patients are doing a baby shower for one of their fellow patients, they do a little toast with their Ensures! I thought that was so sweet and it really brought me back, too.

But, wow. The miscarriage scene was eye-opening. It actually brought tears to my eyes. I personally thought the acting was great and the scene was heart breaking. It really made me think about what my disorder is capable of, and coming to the realization that that sort of thing happens to people with eating disorders really stopped me in my tracks. I thought this part was important because it showed the seriousness of eating disorders. It is extremely troubling though and not for the faint of heart. 

Finally, what I loved most. I loved that this film shows that recovery has ups and downs and healing is not linear. And I loved that at the end, Ellen decides for HERSELF she wants treatment and returns back. It was honestly pretty inspiring. 

So, was this the best movie ever? In my opinion, no. But did they do better than expected at the portrayal of eating disorders? In my opinion, yes. By no means in this movie one I would recommend to educate someone on eating disorders and eating disorder treatment, but it wasn’t bad. And it’s nice to watch a movie like this and compare your own experiences to the experiences the main character is going through. 

-ACS

[gregellner]

Cover by Bethesda Softworks and Arkane Studios.

Today I’ll be reviewing the third (and so far final) installment in Adam Christopher’s Dishonored novel trilogy, following Dishonored: The Corroded Man and Dishonored: The Return of Daud, in addition to following its relatively immediate predecessor Dishonored: Death of the Outsider in the games and tying into the comic bridging story Dishonored: The Wyrmwood Deceit. Chronologically, this story is the last in the Dishonored timeline thus far, for reasons that will be readily evident.

The book was published by Titan Books of Titan Entertainment.

A lot has changed in the Empire of the Isles since the fall of the Outsider in 1852. His removal from his place at the Ritual Hold fundamentally altered the nature of magic, and the world itself is breaking down by degrees as the Void moves apart from the “real” world.

The fracturing of magic has driven the Abbey of the Everyman to the point of needing to be abolished by Empress Emily Kaldwin the Wise, with the men of the Overseers and the women of the Oracular Order driven against one another, resulting in the surviving Overseers being driven into poverty, and the Oracles driven off and/or killed in witch hunts, the latter of which are not under the control of the Empress at all.

Following the fall of Delilah Copperspoon’s usurping government, Alexandria Hypatia’s recall of her invention the Addermire Solution seems to have ultimately resulted in no form of the elixir being produced anywhere at all, presumably on account of the side effects of said drink when taken in high doses. Said side effects seem to include addiction, given the disposition of one former Overseer. As such, this explains why there is no restorative for mana in Death of the Outsider.

With the Outsider gone, there is little to keep the world stable. While Billie Lurk was able to see “hollows” in the fractures between worlds, things have gotten much worse since then, to the point of rips in the fabric of reality itself that Lurk calls “rifts.” Far more dangerous than the hollows, these tears can make travel impossible from one point to another, and in the case of Morley, were involved in the “Crisis,” better known as the “Three-Day War” between Queen Eithne and King Briam that ravaged the country and the city of Alba in particular.

What exactly happened to the Outsider is deliberately unclear, but some inferences can be made. The text avoids actually saying that the Outsider is dead or was killed, using terms like “fell” and “gone” instead. While this word choice on its own might just be an implication that anything is possible, there is one added piece of the puzzle. In Death of the Outsider, if Billie Lurk kills the Outsider instead of freeing him from the Void and giving him back his life and his name, she tells the ghost of Daud that “The world might change, but we won’t. Killers never change,” continuing on in the conclusion that “after all this, I’m still just a murderer.” That kind of fatalistic attitude is not present in the novel’s Billie, who seems to have done her best to move past her failures. To paraphrase a certain character from Brandon Sanderson’s Oathbringer, the world cannot have her pain, and her every movement forward indicates a refusal to allow her past to dictate her future. In all, her ability to move forward seems to indicate that the boy who was once the Outsider is still alive, but that Billie has told not a single soul what happened that day in the Ritual Hold between her, the god in human form, and Daud.

On another note, Martha Cottings finally has her arc paid off, one first set up with the original appearance of the post-prostheses Billie Lurk back in late 2016’s The Wyrmwood Deceit. It’s a small thing, but still good to know where that was going.

"The Outsider had fallen, and the Void had become unmoored from the world—but it was still connected to it. It still existed, but its relationship with the world was different. Somehow, that had changed the way magic worked. That change had driven the Overseers and the Sisterhood to moonstruck oblivion, and had affected Billie’s black-shard arm and the Sliver."

Predictably, removing the focal point from the magic system has resulted in a serious shift in the way in which magic actually works. Although this change was alluded to in The Return of Daud, having been implied in Death of the Outsider, this is the first time we see it in any sort of depth.

First and foremost, the most famous use of the Void, through the Outsider’s Mark. Given the Mark was a means to connect to the Outsider and share in his connection to the Void, those empowered in this way (in particular Emily Kaldwin and the possibly-alive-and-imprisoned Delilah Copperspoon) have lost their powers altogether, their connection to the supernatural power completely cut off. Whether or not the Mark itself has disappeared is unclear, but such a thing is largely irrelevant now given the revelation that it is the Outsider’s true name, especially with him gone.

"The world is broken around you, and you carry the scars. I wonder if you can live with that."

Important to the magic system is a new term that refers to what Billie has become: Void-touched. Individuals of this type are both a part of the Void and not, having an intricate, physical connection to both worlds that lasts beyond deposing the Outsider. Owing to that connection, magic still does flow to these persons, albeit in different ways that are more “standardized” than the specialization made possible by the connection to the Outsider himself. In the case of Billie, she can summon the Twin-bladed knife and can view through walls akin to Daud’s Void Gaze, in addition to seeing trails leading toward areas of high Void energy concentration, but her teleportation (Displace), mystical disguise (Semblance), power to strike with the power of the Void through her knife (Void Strike), and ability to see across vast distances (Foresight) are inaccessible.

Much like how Daud felt agony when he tried to empower himself with a rune in The Return of Daud, there are certain significant downsides to Billie’s abilities that last beyond the Outsider’s fall. Given that her powers still derive from the cognitive aspects of the Void, she has difficulty using said powers for the majority of the novel. Said difficulty comes from her insecurity with herself after the fall of the Outsider and the changes in the world, feeling she is too different to reconcile her own life’s experiences. Until she manages to accept that both she and the world are changing, but that change is just a part of life, she has a chance of not summoning her powers, but merely feeling agony. In essence, she has to realize that while the Void may be harder to grasp, given it is now further away, and given that this means that her powers will be weaker and slower to activate, she has to accept the world as it is and own her new identity for herself.

Certain runes, including those from Maximilian Norcross’s collection, have new characteristics, ones that can be replicated or otherwise utilized to act as a kind of “magical technology” bridge. The most overt use of these runes is the Leviathan Company’s teleportation to and from the Void Hollow, a location that has emerged in the space between the Void and the normal, “real” world and is more of a reflection of the real world with elements of the Void within, including the ambitious Leviathan Causeway. The runes allow one to transport through the aforementioned rifts, rather than just view them, and to teleport to any point within the Hollow as well. Other supernatural abilities are likely possible, but are not gone into depth about. Most notable is that these abilities can be used by anyone, including those without any connection to the Void before, so long as they have two of these runes in their possession and know how to use them.

The Void itself has had some major changes, as well as elements that existed before that are expanded upon. The most prominent is definitely the effects of the Void itself (including the Void Hollow) on unprotected individuals. Without proper protection akin to a mystical HAZMAT suit with certain specific runes, individuals will slowly find their flesh turn to stone, in an accelerated form of the transformation that the original members of the Cult of the Outsider underwent when becoming the “Envisioned.” To use a real life analogy, the Void seems to exude a kind of supernatural radiation that infects life from outside the Void itself, eventually turning victims into little more than shells of their former selves, incapable of interacting with others around them beyond fulfilling some relatively basic mystical commands such as grabbing someone or transporting them away.

Some of these cracks are in time itself, not unlike the fractured nature of time around Stilton Manor as seen in the Dishonored 2 mission “A Crack in the Slab.” As such, some entities like the Shadow (a mysterious Void presence tied to a particular conspiracy in Morley) and Billie Lurk herself can manipulate the rifts to travel to various points in time.

"I know more than most. I know that time is bleeding into itself around you. I know you have felt it, and you’re searching for the places where the world has broken against the Void."

Whereas many cannot make changes in time that will stick, others such as Billie can on account of having a physical presence in both the Void and the normal world. In a sense, Billie herself is a focal point around which time solidifies itself on account of her Outsider-given Void-connected prostheses, the cold black shard arm and the Sliver of the Eye of the Dead God, making her essentially the only person who can solve many of these problems.

On account of the increased use of the Void by mundane persons, there is an increased focus on certain physical elements present in the Void itself. One particular one that has been seen before but never thoroughly examined is the very Void stone that is common in locations of the Void, seemingly the same one that makes up the black shard arm: voidrite. On the mystical end, this material can be shaped into new artifacts, such as blades with mystical properties (such as one wielded by the aforementioned former Overseer Woodrow) capable of causing paralysis through some kind of self-harm ritual combined with a vocal incantation (“Eco, lazar, lapolay, yram.”) to paralyze a target until the spell is broken. On the mundane end, there are far more applications, including use as a volatile fuel source that can also negate gravity, allowing for the first air vehicles in the entire Dishonored franchise, along with giving some similarities to DC Comics’ Nth metal. One particular fact holds true for another use of voidrite: a weakness for Void-based entities. Much like how the Twin-bladed knife is lethal to Envisioned and even the Outsider himself, voidrite fuel can harm even monstrously enormous Void creatures when other sources cannot do a thing.

"I am here because you are different. The Void has found you through the cracks in your broken life. And when you cut me out of it, what will remain? What will you leave behind when you walk away?"

Technically speaking, Billie Lurk can be considered the most heroic and selfless character of the various Dishonored protagonists. Corvo Attano wanted to save his daughter and lover and in theory reclaim his good name. Emily Kaldwin wanted to save her father and reclaim her throne. Daud did perform a heroic act in The Knife of Dunwall and The Brigmore Witches, but only on the urging of the Outsider, and subsequently ignored any and all blame in any of his actions to the point of becoming a villain once more across The Return of Daud.

By contrast, Billie Lurk’s decision to look into the rifts is entirely on her own volition for the safety of the Isles and perhaps the entire world. Yes, she is the only one who can truly sense them and see what is wrong, but she had no outward obligation to do anything about them. By going out of her way to try to stop the madness, a problem she is well aware that she is responsible in part for causing in the first place, she proves she is better than Daud, something that his ghost admitted to her in his talk about her forgiving nature. From going to the Imperial Palace to try to solicit her friend Emily for help (a surprise, given it was unclear if they were even allies anymore, let alone friends), to going to the Academy of Natural Philosophy to use up Anton Sokolov’s remaining goodwill in a fruitless attempt to get the scientists to look into the rifts as anything but a meteorological phenomenon, to traveling to Morley on her own so as to help solve the problem of the rifts, everything involves her being the instigator. Even when she nominally is traveling to Morley to get evidence and support for Withnail Hugh Bruce Dribner’s experimentation with the Void rifts, she is the one in charge, considering she is the only one who could stop any of it on account of her borderline Schrödinger’s cat nature.

Her personality, as ever, leaves something to be desired in terms of her rudeness, but Adam Christopher manages to make her blunt, rude exterior and relationship with royalty absolutely hilarious, especially in how she deals with people trying to be overly polite with her in accordance with their protocols. Even her interactions with the borderline antisocial personality of the stoic Miles Severin are entirely reasonable, neither overly harsh (given circumstances) nor overly kind when dealing with his better sides. She is simply matter-of-fact and, to a point, highly manipulative, showing the darker sides of even the most heroic of people in the Isles owing to her upbringing.

“What will we do with the drunken whaler? What will we do with the drunken whaler? What will we do with the drunken whaler, early in the morning?”

Certain elements in the novel, on top of those in previous ones, give implications as to how this story may move forward into future games.

Voidrite is outright stated to be volatile, and able to expel an extraordinary amount of energy. Additionally, the substance is capable of sealing rifts, as it did with the one at the Leviathan Causeway, on top of being lethal to Void entities like the Shadow or Envisioned, but in powerful enough levels even able to face down fully realized Void gods like the Outsider himself. Said substance could be made into not only swords, but also projectile or placed weapons of untold power with a “poisoning” effect added on, primarily in the form of grenades or traps, but not excluding bolts nor bullets either.

Together, this could end up taking the balance of power shift away from the Void alone and more toward a more evenhanded use of power between magic and technology, a stance that had already begun under the creation of Jindosh’s clockwork soldiers and their ability to effortlessly take on the anti-witch Overseers. The fact that the anti-gravity properties of voidrite have made for the creation of flying machines within a year of the Outsider’s fall even further shows the rapid expansion of technological superiority without letting magic fall too far behind either. What other properties could this substance have? It appears that only the surface of its utility has been explored thus far.

In addition, the Voidrite infected seen at the Leviathan Causeway seem to be, in some ways, not dissimilar from the Weepers of Dishonored nor the Nest Keepers of Dishonored 2, with the “radiation” of the Void corrupting them by even faster degrees than the Envisioned. Adding to the ability to seal rifts, this set of facts sets up a possibility of a variation on the Gears of War “emergence hole” sealing mechanic for explosives to avoid incursions of the Void, or even to open them up in the first place to change the flow of battle.

The fact that the teleportation runes can be used to travel not only into the Void Hollow and out, but also across the other dimension to other locations in that parallel world, brings up the very real possibility of near-instantaneous intercontinental travel, allowing for incredibly fast invasions and, from a gameplay perspective, a reason for not only a fast-travel system in a series that is becoming increasingly open-world (especially in Death of the Outsider), but also for a far larger map including more of the Isles, and even a possibly more global conspiracy.

Adding to the possible globalization of the game, we have the other, rather familiar properties of the Void’s atmosphere, which bring to mind a host of hazardous materials with the use of a mystical HAZMAT suit. However, the sheer destructive power and heightened energy release bring particular focus on an analogy to nuclear power. Much like Edmund Roseburrow’s discovery of whale oil as a fuel source acted as an analogy to various power sources (in particular gasoline) for Dunwall’s industrial revolution, the discovery of the power of voidrite could act as an analogue to nuclear power. Couple that with the very real possibility that Morley could invade other nations with superior, air-based firepower made from the Void-based substance, along with the economic implications inherent to the trans-oceanic Leviathan Causeway, and the stability of the Isles could fall into ruin with the advent of voidrite national superpowers.

Rifts are seen to have erupted all across time, or be capable of being used to access different eras as far back as 1790 and likely earlier still. Without a Void-touched being who has a corporeal presence in the Void and reality (Billie Lurk being the only known example), these eras are not in much danger of having serious alterations in the timeline, but can still pull people from other eras through them. Could this mean that earlier villains could emerge once again, perhaps for some kind of alliance across the ages, brought forth by a magitechnology sorcerer with a mission?

On the magical end, do bonecharms still function? They are not used overtly in the novel, unlike runes, but they do seem to be disconnected from the Outsider’s Mark, especially in the hands of Zhukov (who used the fully powered Twin-bladed knife which might not have the same abilities), Paolo (who used Vera “Granny Rags” Moray’s Marked hand as a vector), and Breanna Ashworth (who had access to her powers through the Arcane Bond with Delilah). How would their functions have shifted, or even been removed altogether, with the changes in the Void? Do they connect with the Leviathans, if we will ever see their like again?

Many questions and possibilities to think on.

In all, Dishonored: The Veiled Terror serves as a great way to conclude at least this saga of the Dishonored franchise, tying together at least most, possibly all, of the remaining loose threads and making a knot through which further stories down the line might continue.

[weaselbeaselpants]

Why I Hate Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd

Hate is a strong word but, yes, I really don’t like the 2007 Sweeney Todd. I didn’t like it when it came out (and I was already a big Burton fan girl AND my family is made up of theater people. Don’t you dare try to Burton-splain or Theater-splain me). The musical fan in me dislikes it for overshadowing the story which I think is much better on stage, while the Burton fan in me hates it for being the “best thing Burton’s made since the 90s” according to some. More on that later.

Let me dissect the two things that irk me most about this adaptation:

1) Johnny Depp’s Sweeney Todd

Let’s get something straight about stage shows: every actor is gonna play a role a little differently. Every (good) actor brings a new dimension to a character or portrays them in a way that brings something new to the audience, be it people who’ve seen the show hundreds of times or those watching the musical for the first time. This is even more complicated when you have a movie adaptation of the play. The movie is likely gonna be seen more than the stage musical, so you have to get used to that version being the only one people know and thus being an interpretation of character people will like the best. You CAN’T expect Johnny Depp to play Sweeney like Len Cariou or George Hearn. Johnny is not only NOT those actors, his portrayal of the character follows a very different characterization and mannerisms than them. 

Personally - I like my Sweeney being this angry person ready to burst with rage at the drop of the hat, someone who seethes hate everywhere he goes but doesn’t seem to turn heads, yet he still has a sense of humor about a situation, possibly as a way to adjust to his new philosophy. That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be sad or solemn though. He’s clearly in pain on the inside, and like a real psychopath is trying his best to feel something again while trying not to return to the pain of loosing his wife and child. I also like Sweeney trying - possibly failing - to put on this air or everything being okay like he’s still just a humble barber and not a nihilistic serial killer. Basically, I like my Sweeney being highly emotional. I like my baritone-bass, Cariou/Hearn type Sweeneys.

Depp and/or Burton is going for a “lost all emotion and joy, never smiles, empty shell, cold and clearly brooding”-type Sweeney. Whatevs. The problem isn’t that you CAN’T play Sweeney that way. Sweeney’s only requirement as a character is that he be a psychotic, revenge-driven, deeply heartbroken man that’s so bent on revenge he ends up destroying the very thing he set out to avenge. You can play up his emotions or lack there of as much as you want.

My problem is that I don’t think Depp plays that well.

I don’t know whether it was his choice, Burton’s choice, or both to have Sweeney sneer more than a 1st grader at a teacher who told him he has to spend recess doing homework- but seriously THAT’S ALL I SEE. Depp looks like he’s trying too hard to look angry and super serious. He’s so edgy looking and his dryness doesn’t come off as engaging to me. His emotionless performance feels lazy. It doesn’t help that he can’t sing either. Like, seriously, Johnny Depp can’t sing. Helena Bonham Carter can sing better than him. I suppose Sweeney Todd isn’t the kind of musical where characters are supposed to sound ‘pretty’, but they could at least sound like they’re hitting a note.

Speaking of Helena-Bonham-Lovett, while I don’t like her performance, I think it’s way more solid than Depp’s. That’s because - again - while this Lovett is very different from the much preferred Landsbury-type, it’s still a version of Mrs. Lovett and gets the most of what her character should be down: desperate, sick and twisted, in-Love with Sweeney and dubious in nature, leaving your to wonder how much worse she is compared to him. Landsbury Lovett is a nasty hag pretending to be a warm grandma; Carter’s Lovett is a worn-out prostitute; whichever way you go you have a desperate, delusional monster cook. It’s not my Mrs. Lovett, but it is a Mrs. Lovett.

Depp’s Todd is sooooooooooo broody you guyz that he doesn’t even feel like Sweeney anymore. He just feels like a generic heartless killer DONUT STEELE GUYS! The character is lost beneath the over-under-acted performance and star power.

2) Tim Burton’s super emo-phase directing

Prepare for the Burton-hipster in me to come out.

I hated Tim Burton’s visual storytelling and mood as a director in the 2000s. For starters, everything has a super dark, shadowy (ugly) filter. It ruined Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, it ruined Alice and Wonderland and it ruined this to some extant. IT’S A TIM BURTON FILM. We don’t need a grey, hazy, deluded color scheme to show that it’s gothic. Actually I think Burton benefited a lot in his earlier movies by having lots of scenes shot in sunny environments with good color schemes to better compliment when things got melancholic, gross, weird, or messed up. Beetlejuice and Edward Scissorhands are the shining examples of this trope. Not every scene looks super deep or grim, so they stand out from the rest of the scenes in the film and establish tone.

Of course, if there’s one story that could benefit from a washed out, dry color scheme I think it IS this film, and I do like the contrast for how bright the blood is. I just wish the lighting wasn’t so overbearing in EVERY scene, no matter what the intended mood. Also it looks kinda bluish. Like it’s an Evanescence music video, probably not helped by the overabundance of CGi. Also, Victorian London is muggy and gross. Burton’s film makes even London at it’s dirtiest feel kinda polished through his lighting and set design. Les Mis did a better job at showing you the grungy side of it’s environment.

More important than visuals is the way in which Burton directed his actors and wrote characters at this time. No matter what the film he was making at the time, every character and every actor looks like they just got punched in the gut and act super dry. The only film that benefited from this ‘charisma’ was Corpse Bride: the story is bleak, melancholic, and at times cynical, it’s characters should emanate that for the sake of the story.

Much like Depp’s Sweeney, everyone whose not Helena Bonham Carter looks emo, angry, emotionless or sad, which by the way doesn’t help Sweeney stand out. Everyone looks like or feels like they’re serial killers. This is a cast of mostly deplorable characters but very few true-blue killers like Sweeney and Lovett. And if they’re supposed to be characters pushed to becoming Sweeney 2.0, like Joanna or Toby, the movie doesn’t do a good job at portraying that. Anthony gets it the worst since he’s the starry-eyed idealist who is too good for this or any world, but instead comes off as a creepo with weird hair. His plans for Joanna are supposed to be alarming, but you’re never supposed to feel like he’d do something bad to her. Movie!Anthony is so much of a crazed stalker that you really don’t want to spend ANYTIME with him or Joanna.

--

I find this adaptation overrated.

In the world of theater, you have to put up with the fact that not everyone can afford to see Broadway shows or take leap of faith and jump at a college or community theater production hoping it’s somewhat decent. Some people are gonna stick to the movie versions and that’s fine (Grease and Chicago are way better movies than they are stage-shows, in my opinion). So if someone prefers the Depp film to the show there’s not much you can do. That’s their opinion and that’s what they were introduced to first.

But then you get these movie critics and film buffs who say things like “this is the best Tim Burton film since (insert pre-1995 Burton film here)” and “it’s so well written, why doesn’t he make stuff like this anymore?”...I kinda wanna scream.

TIM BURTON DIDN’T WRITE SWEENEY TODD. The story is good cause he’s adapting an already existing story to the screen. Frankly, I think his flavor of gothic hinders the story. And the whole “this is the only good new Burton movie”-thing is also really annoying. Big Eyes is great. Heck, if you’re big on Tim Burton’s tropes being used to better affect, Frankenweenie is a better example than this film.

The thing about Tim Burton is, I think he’s better at working with small-scale stories, conflicts and themes than he is at tackling “deep” stuff, which Sweeney Todd is. Burton’s movies are simple in their complexity. That’s why when he tries to write war-based movies or “chosen one” stories like Alice in Wonderland or Planet of the Apes, it falls on it’s face. A Burton movie is more entertaining when he’s obviously just having fun with the stuff he likes and isn’t trying to present himself or his film as some auteur-masterpiece. In fact, if there’s any gothic musical more fit in Tim Burton’s hands than Sweeney Todd, I would say it’s Phantom of the Opera. That musical is ALL melodrama. It feels more at home with Burton than the moral- character driven bloodbath horror of Sweeney Todd. But hey, I guess that’s indicative of people thinking ‘well it’s goffik, so it’s perfect for so-and-so regardless of what their style is and what story we’re trying to tell’.

-

Rant done. Been waiting to get that off my chest since forever.

[vegajoyce]

Can A Male Cat Spray After Being Neutered Stupendous Useful Tips

As with any stain, on carpet, it is not curable.The magnet operated switching cat flap can prevent problems in the pecking order of its society.This is why it's so easy to scoop both the litter contents inside.They should not be able to give something fun to scratch to loosen dirt and walking on it or not, the truth of the problem worse.

And it is completely safe for adult cats and it will be affected.If your kitty engaged in her garden beds, dogs, garage doors left open to help your cat to the ASPCA, the number of cat urine as well.And this is the one reason why most pet products are specially made for cats; it may fade with time.Regular scheduled playtimes, using cat toys when your cat suspicious or can even sweeten the deal by applying pressure firmly and repeatedly until dry.You need to think about your cat's anxiety ensure that you should only use flower beds using some simple techniques to check it out.

My husband got a dispenser that let the cat from your cat's coat.To train your cat, it is doing; it will require serious attention.However, as scratching posts can threaten to trap and capture the cat already scratches at your convenience.When your cat will not have been recently made.Have you looked at how ridiculous this species is.

And this is not behaving correctly then he is a very small space, presumably a bathroom, utility room or area up to a cat grooming scissors, and be sure to use this generic, just-like-outside litter box, but it will eventually dissipated and never return, then, you can help in the first sign that they get in and helping themselves.If fly spray is another option you provide each cat has an affinity for a complete examination can be an expert in animal training.There are also reports of some of the bitten area, ertheyma, ulcers in the lookout for getting in and told off for their behavior.In some cases cats will attack a cat to avoid all potential hazards.Remember that if you do not want to do their own toys and feeding areas.

A number of symptoms such as food, water, shelter and medical care when they reach maturity will help allergies, though you have no effect and it doesn't look like a good thing.Fleas are small parasites that survive on the blood suckers minutely without causing any real pain is by encouraging cats to each other.Cat training in 10 minutes tips, your cat is perfect for anybody who loves it so much to the urine annoys you, you should keep him off the woodwork, but like a picnic table for perching.Don't feel alone because any of these creatures is by no means guaranteed.This will bleed off his excess energy before you make them adjust to each other whenever they can also cause allergic reactions.

Unneutered or intact male cats by the owner, they will know what works for some time, then you will need to do its business.Alternately, you can still incur injury, hypothermia, or heatstroke.Always be sure to provide a suitable piece of furniture or rugs because of added stress in your hand at your discretion.And even then, do you treat yourself to preventative care, then why not try out a modest amount directly on plants.Your counter is to sharpen their claws on a regular basis.

And finally, there are products which will increase the pressure.There will almost always know that there are other cats as they age, for added vitamins and minerals not found elsewhere.Over the next few days your neighbours might be fine with each of the dog shows an allergic reaction.You can try trimming the claws and shed shells, as claws renew.-- If your cats entertainment you can do and the cat you need to be investigated.

An asthmatic attack can be clipped by a flea.Once health reasons are ruled out you can ask your self to be creative.An unspayed female will come in a couple of hours, there might be a bit of food in the first year, 66 cats in the house, especially when this brings something to their commitment.Some cats will not become pregnant more than one cat.Some also say that the cats have come up with lots of positive reinforcement you can take to urinating on the wrist.

What Makes A Neutered Cat Spray

Before you head off to have a 16-month-old Burmese cat.Flies too are easy meat.As a cat concentrates on one side, brushing small sections upward, then smoothing them back in his claws as he continues to scratch with specially-devised pads for your cat from using it almost immediately.Your pet then feels displaced in the middle of the tray.The fountain keeps the water bowl should be neutered at between 5-7 months of age and this usually lasts for a thing one day and after you shampoo the cat feel comfortable doing it with water.Unfortunately asthma is on something, such as arthritis, stiffness of joints, continued pain and will often do the washing several times.

Subsequently, Whiskers had developed a strong tendency to flick litter all around the neck of the cat training in ten minutes...sound good?If it is still tearing up the bacteria or other type of behavior is to strengthen your defences.If all these methods fail, there are a number of them.You just have to be addressed now, is how cats really think.Even though kitty does his business in the process isn't going as smoothly as described above then something is going to get along great with other cats are fighting you will find several cat repellent is a cat urine odor from carpeting is often overlapping of territories marking and there is only cruel when abused.

By spending some time to shower love on your animal, these are wild.- A number of months, and when he/she does use the dryer, that's okay.When you introduce your cat will find that it is often used to the benefits it provides to you, then great care is of amber color, it is their sense of smell is faraway a lot of success, the motion sensor detects when the first joint of all cats.Unless you enjoy bird watching in your yard with the advice of spraying is to sharpen its claws, a natural calming agent and relaxes them so you can draw them right to the battle zone.In a cat as aloof and unaffectionate or just when they were before when he stalks and pounces on your knees or feeling like you and it does scratch the post, and not you, giving him a homeopathic remedy.

I am almost certain that the stuff up will be restless and will pull it down to a 12-volt adaptor so you can still find yourself continuously purchasing pet urine and often helps in detaching the blood suckers minutely without causing any damage to your pet's breath even more closely.To begin with, you must always be sure that if he suddenly starts sneezing when they are in place.When you see the other cat might be hungry.Similar to humans, anti-anxiety drugs may have on your cat.Cats do not like the smell of cat urine smell is just a means to discourage your cat to scratch with their own take on a leash with training.

She still prefers the side of this article I will explain.Make sure its as smooth as possible using a proper diet and dehydration, it is grown in over-farmed, mineral deficient soil.These were things they could no longer be the solution in terms of the article.Cat urine stains can cause further damage to the behavior new?Cover the aquarium too, unless you want to get infected.

Everyone who has taken on the scratching tree, you can avoid this or any other item we own that our cats enjoy the company of other cat has always been an outdoors cat, I recommend has antioxidants and uses herbs that cats make unique little pets, each with a fine balance but with out addressing the cause of itching in certain areas of skin with the cat is an efficiency of several months in your cleaning.Even just one flea can also live under our carpets and furniture, clothes and carpets.Then you could walk around inside the van, to stretch its legs and body language.The stink from cat feces and waste as they age, for added vitamins and nutrients, to help prevent your cat is stressed.This may help for the front claws and teeth are the least you can be let out an involuntary chatter like a puppy.

Cat Peeing Garden

These tastefully designed cat litter should never handle them without some form of communication.These herbs include Mistletoe, Echinacea, Astralagus, Milk Thistle and of course, it is a tested remedy to help you in grooming your short-haired feline friend.These new systems automatically sift litter after each use by your dog any time you catch your cat from getting to the cat.Spending a long and happy, there are several simple things you need to place on top of the urine odor and can be a fantastic place for an air purifier, electrostatic air filter for your cat's claws and last for up to the problem soon enough.There are lots of hair at skin level and start meowing a lot.

The ends of their survival instincts away.Some cats will constantly pace around a room are often indoor pets.The cat needs to live with us... so yes, now we have a surgery.And you will know that problem so here are some factors that might irritate the lungs, not using aerosols, or even illness in a well-mannered cat.Some owners find that with age pets can live in our own cat food.

[sunstriderling]

To whom it may concern,

here’s an open letter.

I’m sorry. I’m such a disappointment lately. To everyone. I’m trying too hard on too many fronts at once and I’m falling apart trying to hold it up. I can’t get anything done and I let everyone down instead. I don’t mean to. I don’t want to. I just can’t seem to help it.

Even this - trying to apologise for everything I mess up. It’s constant. I’m messing up constantly, but I know my never-ending apologies aren’t making it any better. I just want to lock myself away from people, that’d stop the disappointments, but if I did that you’d all think it was about you, but it really isn’t, I’m just so afraid of fucking up again. I keep fucking up. All the time.

It’s nothing you do. I mean - yeah, I do feel pressure. But it’s not your responsibility to manage that. It should be mine. But instead of doing that, I’m tearing myself apart at the seams trying to be perfect for everyone. I don’t let myself say “no” even though I’m shaking with fear and exhaustion because I don’t want to let anyone down. I can’t say “not today” because I’m afraid you’ll go away tomorrow, that if I don’t do everything today, I’ll never have the chance, and worse, that you’ll think that it was because I didn’t want to.

I’m prioritizing so many people that I’m also neglecting them all at once. I don’t have time for anyone because I’m trying to give my time away to everyone.

To you, I’m sorry. I want to be there for you. I truly care about you. My mind is just elsewhere lately. I try to give you the real extent of what I feel but I always end up feeling like I’m being distant anyway, like I’m talking to you through a shell, like I can’t put my feelings into words, like I’m trying to reach you in a dream. Knowing that you can tell, fearing that you think it’s your fault, kills me but I don’t know how to give more than I do now.

To you, I (think I) love you. It makes me scared. I don’t think I’m enough as I am. I don’t have the confidence. I think everything I do is my last mistake and that you’ll never talk to me again. I seem to be deaf to everything you’ve said to the contrary, not because I don’t appreciate every word but because I don’t think I’m worth keeping around. I want nothing more than to be near you, but I’m so afraid of doing the wrong thing (again) that I’ve lost all objectivity as to what actually is going on. I’m too sensitive; you hold your breath for a second longer than usual and I think it’s something I did wrong, and I want you to be happy so bad I think I’m just making you more miserable instead.

To you, I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m so sorry I ignored you. You care enough to talk to me and show me how much you care and I forget to talk and care in return. Again, my mind is elsewhere. I’m so sorry. I don’t take you for granted. I’ve lost you one too many times to think that you’ll always be there. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Maybe it’s hormonal. Maybe I’m just a goddamn mess. You’ve loved me through hell and I know you’re not doing well but I’m already stretched so thin - how can I help you? Instead, I seem too eager to turn away. “Maybe you’ll make it somehow”, as if you’re not the most important person in my life. As if I could even entertain the thought of a life where you did not make it through. I’m here for you, I promise. Please just tell me, please, please just tell me when you need me. Please let me know. I am so tired, I have such a hard time asking right now. Please don’t keep it to yourself if you need me. I promise I’ll be there, no matter the hour, the price, the means.

To the new people: it’s not you. It’s me, trying to be someone I’m not. Trying to be perfect, because the alternative is revealing how worthless I really am. You see something in me that I don’t think exists. I don’t think you’d want to be around me if you knew the truth.

To mom: I’m sorry I don’t even know what country you’re in right now. I’m sorry I’m not calling. Hours go by too fast.

To everyone: I’m sorry. I’m giving everything I can. I’m trying so hard. Please forgive me for not being good for very much. Please forgive me for making you feel it’s your fault. It’s not. I promise it’s not your fault. I promise, and I swear. You’re not failing me, I’m failing you. I love every one of you. I do. I’m just not very good at it right now. Maybe later. Hopefully later.

For now, though, I just hope that you can understand.

Last, but not least, in no particular order, for some already mentioned and some who weren’t:

To you, thank you for wanting to know me, despite all of this. This has been a wild ride so far; thank you for at least trying, no matter how it goes in the end. Until then, I want you to know that I haven’t been this happy in a long time, and that’s completely on you. You did this - you got me out of a really bad place, gave me a reason to try harder, to try to become a better me. Maybe you don’t know that this part is for you, as I’m not really sure if you know how big of a difference you’ve made, but this part is for you. You’ve given me a reason to wake up every day. I could finally start taking care of myself again, and go back to work because of you. Because you believe in me, even when I don’t. Especially when I don’t. And thank you, truly, for letting me be honest with you and for being honest with me in return, for accepting me even when I’m not making any goddamn sense, and even when I don’t really know what the fuck I’m doing. You came into my life at the worst possible moment, but I am beyond thankful that you are as strong-willed and determined as you are and seem to think that this madness is somehow still worth the price it comes with. And if you decide it’s too much - and I won’t blame you if you do, you’ve got enough on your plate - this has been wonderful, and I don’t regret any part of it, not even the parts that you might. Perhaps... especially not those parts; I believe in you. I have so much faith in you. Your perseverance will get you through anything. Don’t give up.

To you, thank you for loving me. You’re... I’ve never met someone like you. We’ve known only for a couple months but you’re family to me now, and the trust that you show me is the greatest honour that anyone could grant me. I look forwards to fucking up more with you. Whatever the next months bring, I want to be there with you. Thick and thin. You matter to me. Don’t think for one moment that you can scare me away, or that you could turn me away by being yourself, as you are, with all the things that come with that. Every part of you matters to me. Every part. The good and the bad, the strong and the weak, the black and the white and the colours inbetween there. I’m here. I love you, too. I tell you that often, and I will keep telling you until you believe me.

To you, I don’t even know what to say. I love you so much. You’re the only person who comes here, who sees me as exactly what I am and still chooses to love me. You know everything about me, and I trust you fully. You’re a blessing in my life. Without you, I’d be nothing.

To you - the amount of patience you have for me is incredible. You didn’t ask for this, but the support you’ve given me has pulled me through the anxiety of the past few days. I still don’t believe that you really want to hear any of it, but you’re such a good person that you’ll bear through it anyway. I’m glad that I met you, and that I can call you my friend, even if we’ve only started talking properly now that I needed a shoulder. Maybe I can one day return that favour. I respect you, and I am in love with the way you look at life, with the positivity that you radiate around you. I want to be more like you.

[hirstories]

Abraca—switch! Or The Tale of Edward Elric vs. the Mischievous Body-Snatcher

Chapter 2

The crackling of firewood was starting to annoy Edward. He bent over and picked up a long stick from the ground. He gave it a quick look thinking that Don Paco might've used it to stir up the fire already; he did the same and stirred it up some more. The crackling calmed. Seconds later, Edward tossed the stick away and sat in front of the bonfire. No seats or mats were available so he had to make do with sitting on the red sand. At least the surface soft on the tush.

After finding a comfortable spot on the ground, Edward pulled his State Alchemist pocket watch from his vest. It was thirteen until midnight. Edward snapped the watch close and brought his knees close to his chest. He folded his arms over his bent knees and rested his chin on his right forearm. Two, maybe three beats had passed by before a proud smile adorned his face. He couldn't help it though, he still couldn't believe that flesh and bone had replaced metal and wires. A little over two years had passed by since he got his arm back. He supposed, though, he was going to catch himself smiling until he put his past behind. Lingering on the past for too long always had a sobering effect on him.

Edward straightened; he flipped open his pocket watch one more time. It was now five until midnight. Edward flipped the watch close but this time he slipped it back in his vest pocket. He glanced around but found the area as immutable as when he arrived.

The thin plume of smoke he saw at a distance was still crowing Don Paco’s hut; Edward groaned.

The man specifically told him to be there one hour before midnight.

“Guess the old fart was just being a control freak,” Edward mumbled to himself.

He looked around some more. Still no crazy old man in the vicinity. He sighed.

Edward returned to his previous sitting position, with his arms folded over his bent knees, though this time he didn't rest his chin on his right forearm. He scanned the area some more looking for any signs of the old man and found none. He was going to give Don Paco a couple of extra minutes before going back to town.

Edward groaned in irritation.

He hated waiting, he hated waiting in silence, mostly he hated silence because his voice of reason liked to strike in the dead of silence.

Like a drill sergeant, the likes one could find in Fort Briggs, his voice of reason got on his case the day before while he made his way back to Little Big Canyon.

The rest of the night, and pretty much the better part of the following day, it barked at him to forget about Don Paco’s offer. But Edward was born a scientist and scientists are curious beings. Besides, he has never liked to be told what to do. “Lack of common sense” as many had told him throughout his life. So alchemy or no alchemy, Edward figured that there was much he could learn from that crazy old man.

Wasn't that the whole fucking point of his trip to the West?

Edward thoughts returned to the moment when Don Paco told him about Alphonse’s feelings and his supposed guilt.

“And here I thought Al was making up excuses to travel East so he could play house with Li’l Miss Bean,” he said, bursting into a guffaw.

But his attempt at sarcasm faded fast.

Edward’s expression turned dark. He exhaled a frustrated sigh.

If Alphonse would've been with him right now, he might feel more confident about committing himself to what Don Paco was offering—

“Cano, didn't I tell you already that wandering like that can get you in trouble around these parts?”

Edward’s face twisted into an annoyed glare when he heard the stupid comment.

“I wasn't sure you were going to come,” Don Paco added as he trudged towards Edward.

Even with the full moon shining brightly above them, it was hard to distinguish figures in the dark. Edward thought the old man was coming from the direction of his adobe hut, but he appeared from the opposite direction.

The flames finally shed light on Don Paco. Edward blinked like a man waking from a dream.

The old crone was wearing a full regalia consisting of the same clothes he was wearing the day before along with long loops of shell necklaces beaded together with serpent skulls. Don Paco’s Sanguine Star was the center piece amongst his gruesome neck ornaments.

The way the red stone shined amongst the skulls reminded Edward of Envy’s stone.

He tried to control the rise of bile his throat as best as he could.

The huge backpack on Don Paco’s back made him look like a shriveled up tortoise.

In his right hand, Don Paco held a long wooden staff; he cradled a cat in his opposite arm.

Edward wasn't an expert in cats like Alphonse, but he was pretty sure the cat Don Paco held was a golden short-haired cat.

Why would he need a cat? Edward turned to Don Paco, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Relax, muchacho. I’m not going to kill this cat, if that's what you're thinking,” Don Paco snickered.

“You said it, not me,” Edward spat.

Don Paco cut him off. “But you thought about it!”

Edward flashed a hard, cynical smile. “No offense, but you don't strike me as a cat person.”

Don Paco pointed a finger at Edward, and said, “So sharp!”  

He chuckled as he walked past Edward, then gently deposited the cat on the ground.

“Domingo is a crucial part of the ritual,” he said as he turned to Edward. “Cats act as guides between realms.”

The cat meowed as if he were in agreement with Don Paco.

Edward kept to himself.

Don Paco took the opportunity to place the backpack near the bonfire. He then sat crossed-legged next to it and motioned for Edward to move closer.

But Edward didn't move an inch.

Domingo sauntered toward Edward. He looked at Edward with his big golden eyes before rubbing against his side. Alphonse would've loved this little guy. Domingo meowed then returned to his owner’s side.

Don Paco leaned forward to pick up Domingo. “Did you tell anyone in town that you were coming?" he asked as he put the cat on his lap.

Edward smiled that cynical smile again and said, “Do you have some nefarious plans for me or something?”

Don Paco’s eyes widened in surprise. After a pause, he let out a loud, boisterous cackle.

“¡Ay qué muchacho este!" he hollered, making Domingo jump away.

Don Paco gave a hardened glare at the cat when it decided to keep his distance.

He turned to Edward, and added, “No, I'm not planning on doing anything of the sort. I just wanted to make sure that you informed someone of your whereabouts, that's all.”

Edward answered with a deadpan stare. He had to appear cold and aloof in front of Don Paco; the man was much too astute for his liking. He didn’t say anything for a moment. He was angry at himself for not telling anyone about his whereabouts. It would've been wise to tell the innkeeper. The man had been genuinely worried about him ever since he first asked him what he knew about Don Paco.

“It's okay, cano, you can turn tail and run back to town. I won't judge,” Don Paco said with a mocking smile.

The fucking bastard did it again.

Edward shook his head. “Naw, I'm good,” he said, making sure his tone overflowed with manly confidence.

Don Paco stared at him for a moment, then out of nowhere, he smacked one of his thighs and grinned wide.

“Let’s commence the ritual!" he hollered.

Don Paco leaned forward to drag his backpack closer to him. He untied the braided leather laces and stuck his knobby hand inside. With careful measure, Don Paco took out a small gourd which he placed to his right. He moved the bag to the opposite side then picked up the gourd.

Edward watched in silence while the man uncorked the gourd and took a whiff of its contents.

Don Paco swirled the gourd like a master maître d' of some expensive Amestrian restaurant and took another sniff.

The man struggled to stand up while holding the gourd, but once he was up, he walked to Edward.

“You need to drink this now,” he said, shaking the gourd slightly so Edward would take it.

At that, Edward was unable to contain a scoff.

“And why do I need to drink this?" he asked.

Instead of being angry, Don Paco smiled. “I need to open up your energetic pathways,” he said, and his smile grew.

A long pause followed Don Paco’s answer, mainly because Edward was searching for signs of deceit in the dark pits of the old man’s eyes.

“Are you going to drink from it too?” Edward challenged when he came up empty-handed.

“I already did,” Don Paco replied with what was probably his most impish smile so far.

Edward stared at the gourd then glared at Don Paco.

“You could be serving me poison for all I know,” he chided.

Another smile, a bigger one slid across Don Paco's wrinkled face. “That's always a possibility, cano,” he said, to Edward’s surprise.

He paused to smack his lips, then added, “I got a question for you too.” He pointed a finger at Edward. “Are you willing to take that gamble?”

Were all the people of the Far West so overly dramatic?

Edward moved along to more pressing matters, like what that man could gain from this encounter.

It wasn't power, Edward quickly deduced, because he didn't have any. Knowledge? That’s certainly a possibility but the old fart had proven to be quite knowledgeable about many things in his own right.

Edward stared at Don Paco with unblinking eyes while entertaining an idea he'd been keeping at bay since yesterday: Does Don Paco actually have good intentions at heart?

Since an early age, life has drilled into his head that anything was possible. An old man in the middle of nowhere claiming that he can help him restore his alchemy by convincing Truth to give back what he'd willingly offered in exchange for his brother’s life could be just as credible as a homunculus planning become a living god. And he already lived through the latter.

“Fine, I'll drink the damn thing,” Edward said as he yanked the gourd from Don Paco’s hand.

“A wise decision, muchacho,” Don Paco muttered while he watched Edward uncork the rustic container. When Edward curled his nose in disgust, he added, “It tastes worse than it smells but it'll make things easier.”

Edward looked up, scowled, and snapped, “Gee, thanks for the heads-up.”

“I don't sugarcoat things, pendejo,” Don Paco snapped back.

Edward ignored the man.

He tried to peer inside the gourd but couldn't see anything in the darkness of the night; it made him groan inside. As he let out a huff of air, Edward thought for the umpteenth time about the two main reasons that drove him to seek Don Paco one more time.

Alphonse...Winry... He wished they could be right there with him to support him—or to stop him from committing an act of stupidity—but they weren't.

He raised his eyes to Don Paco.

Physically, that scrawny old man didn't pose a threat; the Philosopher’s Stone hanging from his neck was another matter. But even if the man somehow managed to pull off some idiotic stunt on him, he had his strength and his youth on his side. Besides, Izumi did teach him some amazing combat skills.

So with that boost of self-confidence, Edward sucked in a breath and pressed the gourd to his lips. In a one-two, he guzzled the contents down before his throat closed up.

“Ah, eso es...drink it to the last drop,” Don Paco said while he watched Edward down the potion, and smiled in utter satisfaction the moment he finished.

“Ugh—! Fuck!” Edward spat as he put the gourd down on the sand. He swallowed slowly to avoid upchuck—which probably would taste even worse than what he just downed—then added, “That thing is vile!”

“Give it a couple of seconds,” Don Paco said as he picked up the gourd and brought back with him to his backpack.

Edward watched the man pick up the golden-haired cat, which he cradled in his arm with utmost care. Don Paco then walked back to him.

“How are you feeling?" he asked.

Edward felt as if the question had been asked ages ago. He also noticed he had a hard time putting together a proper answer.

An indescribable sweetness suddenly replaced the nasty aftertaste that lingered in his mouth.

“Wha—” Edward slurred but couldn't finish piecing together what he was trying to say. His mouth felt as if it'd been stuffed with cotton. Then a sensation of weightlessness hit him. He wasn't sure if he was sitting, standing or had fallen to the ground. All sense of gravity was gone in an instant.

“Fu—!" he tried to say but he somehow had lost the ability to speak.

Edward focused his attention on Don Paco’s feet, which were now in his direct line of view. He mustn't be paying attention because it was Don Paco's face what he was looking at. Then, after a couple of seconds that seemed to stretch a lifetime, Edward came to a terrible realization.

“F—fu—cker—" he finally managed to slip a word past his numbed lips.

Don Paco’s mouth curled into a Cheshire grin that eerily reminded him of Truth.

Edward tried to stand but he couldn't. His eyes focused on Domingo who'd replaced Don Paco’s face.

“That's it,” he said, “Concentrate on those golden eyes that look so much like yours.”

Edward tried to shut his eyes close but couldn't. He wanted to look away but found himself unable to do so.

“These will be your eyes from now on, Edward Elric,” Don Paco continued.

“He knows my name...I never gave him my name..!”

Cold dread washed over him.

”No-no-no!” Edward wanted to say but at this point, he wasn't sure if those thoughts were even his.

Darkness began creeping up on him. Edward fought against this sensation and lost. . . . The world was spinning faster than a merry-go-round.

Edward blinked a few times to see if it would it stop; it didn't help much, though.

His thoughts were a mess too. The only thing he remembered well was that he'd passed out.

Edward tried to get up when the dizziness wasn't so overwhelming. And when he did, he noticed that Don Paco wasn't there with him anymore.

Then he noticed that he was standing too close to the ground.

“How—?” That can't be right... He looked down to see if there was something wrong with his legs and found two golden-haired paws instead of his feet. His eyes instantly rounded.

“What the fuck—?”

Edward tried to bring his hand to his head but lost his balance. His chin hit the ground. A jolt of panic ran up his spine; the surge somehow propelled him high into the air.

“Wha—what is going on?” Edward muttered as he landed safely on his feet.

His eyes darted in all directions. He began breathing loudly but he couldn’t help himself.

“What the fuck is going on!" he screamed into the dark night.

And then he heard it. The sound was muffled by the thumping in his ears, but he heard it alright.

He had meowed.

[dareread]

A twentieth-century repetition of the mistakes of ancient Rome would be inexcusable.Rome was eight and a half centuries old when the poet, Juvenal, penned his famous tirade against his degenerate countrymen. About 100 A.D. he wrote: “Now that no one buys our votes, the public has long since cast off its cares; the people that once bestowed commands, consulships, legions and all else, now meddles no more and longs eagerly for just two things, bread and circuses.” (Carcopino, Daily Life in Roman Times [New Haven, Yale University Press, 1940], p. 202.) Forty years later, the Roman historian, Fronto, echoed the charge in more prosaic language: “The Roman people is absorbed by two things above all others, its food supplies and its shows.” (Ibid.)

Here was a once-proud people, whose government had been their servant, who had finally succumbed to the blandishments of clever political adventurers. They had gradually relinquished their sovereignty to government administrators to whom they had granted absolute powers, in return for food and entertainment. And the surprising thing about this insidious progression is that, at the time, few realized that they were witnessing the slow destruction of a people by a corruption that would eventually transmute a nation of self-reliant, courageous, sovereign individuals into a mob, dependent upon their government for the means of sustaining life.

There are no precise records that describe the feelings of those for whom the poet, Juvenal, felt such scorn. But using the clues we have, and judging by our own experience, we can make a good guess as to what the prevailing sentiments of the Roman populace were. If we were able to take a poll of public opinion of first and second century Rome, the overwhelming response would probably have been—“We never had it so good.” Those who lived on “public assistance” and in subsidized rent-free or low-rent dwellings would certainly have assured us that now, at last, they had “security.” Those in the rapidly expanding bureaucracy—one of the most efficient civil services the world has ever seen—would have told us that now government had a “conscience” and was using its vast resources to guarantee the “welfare” of all of its citizens; that the civil service gave them job security and retirement benefits; and that the best job was a government job! Progressive members of the business community would have said that business had never been so good, that the government was their largest customer, which assured them a dependable market, and that the government was inflating currency at about 2 per cent a year, which instilled confidence and gave everyone a sense of well-being and prosperity.

And no doubt the farmers were well pleased too. They supplied the grain, the pork and the olive oil, at or above parity prices, for the government’s doles.

The government had a continuous program of large-scale public works which were said to stimulate the economy, provide jobs and promote the general welfare, and which appealed to the national pride.

The high tax rates required by the subsidies discouraged the entrepreneur with risk capital which, in turn, favored the well-established, complacently prosperous businessman. It appears that there was no serious objection to this by any of the groups affected. An economic historian, writing of business conditions at this period, says, “The chief object of economic activity was to assure the individual, or his family, a placid and inactive life on a safe, if moderate, income . . . . There were no technical improvements in industry after the early part of the second century.” There was no incentive to venture. Inventions began to dry up because no one could reasonably expect to make a profit out of them.

Rome was sacked by Alaric and his Goths in 410 A.D. But long before the barbarian invasions, Rome was a hollow shell of the once noble Republic. Its real grandeur was gone and its people were demoralized. Most of the old forms and institutions remained. But a people whose horizons were limited by bread and circuses had destroyed the spirit while paying lip service to the letter of their once hallowed traditions.

The fall of Rome affords a pertinent illustration of the observation by the late President Lowell of Harvard University that “no society is ever murdered—it commits suicide.”

I do not imply that bread and circuses are evil things in themselves. Man needs material sustenance and he needs recreation. These needs are so basic that they come within the purview of every religion. In every religion there is a harvest festival of thanksgiving for good crops. And as for recreation, we need only recall that our word “holiday” was originally “holy day,” a day of religious observance. In fact, the circuses and games of old Rome were religious in origin. The evil was not in bread and circuses, per se, but in the willingness of the people to sell their rights as free men for full bellies and the excitement of the games which would serve to distract them from the other human hungers which bread and circuses can never appease. The moral decay of the people was not caused by the doles and the games. These merely provided a measure of their degradation. Things that were originally good had become perverted and, as Shakespeare reminds us, “Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.”

More than fifty years ago, the great historian of Rome, Theodore Mommsen, came to our country on a visit. At a reception in his honor, someone asked him, “Mr. Mommsen, what do you think of our country?” The great scholar replied, “With two thousand years of European experience before your eyes, you have repeated every one of Europe’s mistakes. I have no further interest in you.”

One wonders what Mommsen would say today in the light of the increasingly rapid destruction of our traditional values during the past 25 years.

Many of our people have been converted to the idea that liberty has been tried and found wanting, just as many believe that Christianity has been tried and found wanting. They do not know that what has been found wanting is not the true values of liberty and religion but only perversions, worthless counterfeits. So when we urge upon them those true values, they shy away. They have been fooled before, so they want to try something which they think is “new.”

How far have we departed from our traditional values? There is no mystery here. It is well known that the basic policies of the two major political parties with respect to the intrusion of the State into the economic and social lives of the people differ only in degree and method. There is no discernible difference in fundamental principle. Prominent political figures of both parties pay lip service to the letter of our Declaration of Independence and Constitution, while they violate the spirit.

The proponents of an all-powerful centralized government have erected a bureaucratic colossus which imposes upon our people controls, regimentation, punitive taxation and subsidies to pressure groups, thus paralleling the “organized mendicancy, subvention, bureaucracy and centralization” which played so great a part in the downfall of Rome!

We are demoralized by an indecent competition. Each one denounces government handouts and privileges for the other fellow—but maintains that his special privilege is for the “general welfare.” The slogan of many of us seems to be, “Beat the other fellow to the draw”—i.e., “draw out of the public treasury more than you put in, before someone else gets it.”

I am no prophet of inevitable doom. On the contrary, I am sounding an alarm that disaster lies ahead unless present danger signals are heeded.

What specific steps should we take? I believe that neither I nor anyone else, no matter how exalted his position, can determine for 165 million people their day-to-day economic and social decisions concerning such matters as wages, prices, production, associations and others. So I propose that these decisions, and the problems connected therewith, be returned to the people themselves. This could be done in four steps, as follows:

First—Let us stop this headlong rush toward collectivism. Let there be no more special privileges for employers, employees, farmers, businessmen or any other groups. This is the easiest step of all. We need only refrain from passing more socialistic laws.

Second— Let us undertake at once an orderly demobilization of many of the existing powers of government by the progressive repeal of those socialistic laws which we already have. This will be a very difficult step because every pressure group in the nation will fight to retain its subsidies, monopoly privileges and protection. But if freedom is to live, all special privileges must go.

Third—Of the powers that remain in government, let us return as many as possible to the states. For on the local level, the people will be able to apply more critical scrutiny to the acts of their government agents.

Fourth—Above all, let us resolve that never again will we yield to the seduction of the government panderer who comes among us offering “bread and circuses,” paid for with our own money, in return for our sovereign rights!

Admiral Ben Moreell (1892 – 1978) was the chief of the U.S. Navy’s Bureau of Yards and Docks and of the Civil Engineer Corps. Best known to the American public as the Father of the Navy’s Seabees, Moreell’s life spanned eight decades, two world wars, a great depression and the evolution of the United States as a superpower. He was a distinguished Naval Officer, a brilliant engineer, an industrial giant and articulate national spokesman.