#(finding new love. more guilt. in a space where her and minnie had good memories together)

[spacedlexi]

i always wondered if you ever read any violentine/twg fanfiction and if you have could you tell us your favorites? Or what tropes would you like to read? Idk I just really like this ship and since there was so little content I could find so i read a lot of shit 💀 but I hold a special care for it since it was one of the first fandoms I entered and finding out Clem was bi meant a lot to me cause you don't see a lot of bi representation that isn't like "I like fucking anything that moves🤩(Yea Im looking at you Elite)”.

So yeah I'd like to hear you thought of fanfiction and stuff.

i tried once or twice but didnt get farther than the first chapter or so on the few i tried 😔 i kinda for the most part stopped reading fic after high school to be fair, so im very particular about what i Do read when it comes to fic now. and on ao3 at least since im afraid of wattpad there really hasnt been anything that held my attention (at least in the past. like i said i havent tried looking in a couple years so who knows). i need plot/character development heavy stuff that i can really sink my teeth into and i didnt really find much of that... and the "tropes" i like are more determined by which characters im applying them to so i dont always like the same ones across the board

someone asked me this question a while ago and i asked for any fic recs at the time but i only got like.. one? im really not sure what the state of twdg fic is like honestly

DESPITE all that tho im still slowly slowly SLOWLY meticulously steadily working on my own oneshot that i WILL FINISH I SWEAR its over 20 pages currently and only like 2/3? done?? and half edited BUT it IS outlined so..... i just have to.. you know..... actually Finish it....

i posted some snippets from it a while ago (HERE) but here's a couple longer ones since ive written about 10 more pages (plus like 5 in outlines) since then. im Really particular about the flow of my writing which is like.. the main reason why i take so long to write.. gotta fix it until it Feels Right

A comfortable silence seemed to settle over them then. The wind outside the shack still blew harshly, whistling against the broken windows. But as the girls sat by the warm glow of the fire, and listened to the crackling of the burning logs, it was enough to melt their tension. At least a bit.

The silence continued until the fire began to dwindle with the last of the logs. "We're going to have to start burning those..." Clementine said as she looked at the loose boards they had kicked aside earlier.

"I got it," Violet said as she stood, not even giving Clementine a chance to move. As she grabbed a board and kicked hard at its center, trying to break it in two, Clementine twisted her mouth. Not at the other girl, but at herself. She was still getting used to her new limitations, and it frustrated her knowing there were just certain things that she couldn't or struggled to do now.

The boards had been sturdy once, but due to age and exposure, they had eroded enough that Violet was able to break them with relative ease. She threw a couple of the pieces on the fire and set the rest by the hearth as she returned to where she had been at Clementine's side. She gave her a soft, reassuring smile as the fire came back to life, and Clementine gave a soft smile in return, breaking her from her thoughts, if only momentarily.

She heaved a sigh as her eyes were drawn back to the missing portion of her left leg. She thought about the trek awaiting them in the morning, and her mouth twisted again. "Ugh, walking through all of that snow is gonna fuck up my leg..."

The soft smile on Violet's face became mischievous. "Don't worry, I can just carry you instead." She said it nonchalantly, but the fluttering in her chest betrayed her.

Clementine quirked her eyebrow in response to the bold statement, smiling skeptically as she laughed "Uh, aha, yeah right."

"What, don't think I can?" Violet responded, the look on her face unbothered by the other girls reaction. "Brody was the one who carried you to the school after you crashed and I'm, like, at least as strong as Brody was."

Clementine's face dropped at the revelation. "Wait-... Brody brought us back?"

"Uh..." Violet hesitated at the change in Clementine's voice. "Yeah... Her and Marlon. She was the only one he would ever take outside the safe zone." She explained, and as an aside to herself said "Huh, guess it makes sense now..."

The playful atmosphere had now quickly disappeared, only to be replaced with a quiet, somber one. In the short time Clementine had to get to know Brody, she felt they had started to become friends. However, there weren’t many good memories made between them, and so Clementine more easily remembered the bad ones.

She could still remember that stormy night in the cellar clearly, could remember the sounds of Brody's inhuman screeching. The hot blood on her hands as she fought against the turned girl for her life. The guilt sinking in her chest like a black hole as she looked over what she had done. What she had to do. Clementine mourned her in the way she mourned everyone else she had lost. And it never got any easier.

Violet watched Clementine as she internally fought through her feelings, and once again regretted her words. She didn't want to think about Brody, either. And felt guilty over unintentionally bringing those awful memories to the surface. Clementine told them what Marlon had done that night, yet never talked about what happened after. But Violet had helped the others with the bodies, had seen what Clementine was forced to do. She remembered the sight clearly, as clearly as she remembered feeling that Marlon got what he deserved.

--

"Maybe we should try to get some sleep before it gets cold in here..." Clementine suggested tentatively.

Violet shifted, stretching her arms out in front of her, catching the last of the heat from the hearth on her fingers. "We should use the bed, then. It'll at least be better than the floor. Plus, there's a blanket."

Violet stood up then, stretching her legs as Clementine looked up at her. "Are you sure that thing isn't completely rotted?"

"It should be okay. We only brought it in here a little over a year ago."

"'We'? Why?"

"Uh-" Violet started at that, averting her eyes. "Um... Minnie and I... we kinda... used to hang out here..."

"Oh..." Clementine wasn't sure what to say to that, but it did confirm her suspicions. So instead, she relented. "Okay."

But she hesitated, looking between her leg and her prosthetic where it still sat propped against the side of the fireplace. "Hmm..." Should she put it back on? The bed wasn't far...

"Here," Violet reached her hand out, noticing the hesitation, "let me help you."

Clementine eyed the outstretched hand, considering her options, and once again twisted her mouth at her new limitations. She kind of hated this. She had done everything on her own for so long, and now...

"C'mon, it's okay."

She looked back and forth between Violet's face and outstretched hand a few times before finally relenting. "...Fine." She really didn't want to lace up her prosthetic just to immediately take it off again.

Clementine took her hand, and Violet helped pull her up to stand. They leaned close as she found her balance, gripping tightly at Violet's shoulder with her free hand. It only took a short moment, and once Clementine stabled herself, her eyes locked with Violet's. They both started a bit when they noticed how close they had become, face to face.

"Aha. Um, you good?" Violet asked, slightly flushed.

"Yeah," Clementine said, hiding her blush better than the other girl. "Thanks."

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Son Of Scheherazade, 26

Notes: As always, fantastic thanks to my editors Drucilla and BlueShifted... who reeeally helped me out, in more ways than they know.

This was an interesting chapter as some of it I've had in mind for years, and other parts I made up the week of actually writing it. Hopefully all this nonsense works out. We're almost done, guys! I hope you enjoyed the journey.

Summary: Our heroes finally reach the forgotten kingdom, and the final battle is set. But some memories are best left buried, and not all happily ever afters are guaranteed.

Goofy was once again disappointed that he didn't get to see a magic show – leaving Mickey to once again question why a man with a flying ship had any desire to see such a thing – but it was swept under the rug upon the announcement that the final piece of the map had been obtained. As much as everyone wanted to put it together and begin the last step in their journey, the captain put a veto on it.

“We gotta prepare ourselves,” he explained over supper. “Physically and mentally! Tonight, everyone gets one last training session in! We get a full night's rest, and eat a huge breakfast in the morning! Then, and only then, do we put the map together and bring the fight to the Phantom Prince.”

“He wants us there, so he's probably got a few traps set,” Horace added, but put his empty plate down in eager anticipation. “But after all the nonsense we've been through, I bet we can get through it with our eyes closed!”

Clarabelle latched onto his arm, swooning. “Aw, Horace, you're so adorable when you're optimistic!”

“I think I'm going into a depression cycle where I'm so sure we're all gunna die that I've got no choice but to say otherwise.”

Clarabelle smacked her husband upside the head, while Panchito held up his pistols. “I'll make sure every chamber is loaded and bring lots of back-up ammo! And I'll come up with a new song!”

Jose twirled his umbrella over his head. “This time, we bring everything we've got, and leave no one behind! It'll be a battle that even Lady Scheherazade couldn't imagine!”

Daisy laughed at that idea. “I don't know if she'd take that as a compliment, but I'll keep my Eye on her, every which way.”

“And don't bother checking the forecast, I've got it under control!” Donald snapped his fingers, firing off a small shot of lightning. “I'll make that Phantom Prince do a phantom wince!”

“... Really.”

“Look, everyone's coming up with cool stuff, this is hard.”

Minnie saluted, ready to offer her own aid. “I'll come up with wishes we can use to our advantage, and that way we won't be caught off guard. I won't have my freedom until the Sultan and Sultana are free, and the Phantom Prince is defeated once and for all.”

“Then we all know what we have to do,” Mickey finished, unable to stop smiling. “So let's hurry up and get to it!” The entire day with Mortimer suddenly seemed far away, in the wake of so much hope and promise. Yet, in a truly weird way, he was a little grateful for the smug rat's reappearance. As his friends began to devour their dinner, discussing possible battle strategies for the upcoming finale, Mickey understood how much he had learned from each and every one of them. In turn, he saw that not everyone was exactly the same as when he had first met them.

Donald, once shy and unsure about every step he made, was now embracing every emotion he had, laughing and arguing with vigor. Daisy, who had pushed everyone away to save herself, had come to reluctantly embrace her heart, sharing the remains of her meal with those around her. Minnie, she of lost hope and disdain for the world, could share her ideas and walk to her own chosen future with her head held high, even now offering ways Jose and Panchito could use their combined skills to form a shield around whoever needed it most.

He loved each and every one of them dearly, and he would miss them terribly when the time came to return to his kingdom. Would his own people recognize him when he came back? If this journey had established anything, it was that Mickey would not allow himself to be merely the Son of Scheherazade anymore. He had learned, he had gained, he had lost, and now it was time to find who he really was. He still had his own flaws to wrestle with – his crippling self-loathing and his anger the most important ones – but he wasn't alone. He could face these demons and defeat them. In fact, right now his biggest worry was how he could possibly get any sleep that night!

Once the plates were cleared, they wasted no time in drawing their weapons and displaying their powers. Goofy and Mickey met blade to blade, a far cry from when Mickey was first attacked by the heartless monsters and could only guess where to stick his steel. Horace and Clarabelle were their own best practice partners, only stopping to give lessons to Daisy and Minnie. Panchito shot at targets that Jose threw, and Donald went through the range of his feelings to see if he could combine any for potential power-ups, such as a happy fear that lead to a flurry of blinding snowflakes. As the sun began to fall, companions would switch, and the sessions would start up again. But Mickey quietly left early.

Pluto laid loyally at the ship's mast, knowing his master was up at the crow's nest. There Mickey stood, watching the reds, yellows and oranges melt into the dunes to give way to darkness. He remembered the first time seeing this when he had climbed onto Goofy's ship, in awe that the world could be so different. He had known so little then, been so naive, could only see the world in black and white. But like this sunset, the world and people could be many colors, and could always change. He thought of his mother and father, and hoped they would be proud of the progress he'd made. He sat down, recalling that he had insisted to his mother over and over that he was a man now and should be treated as such. In retrospect, it'd been quite silly.

Mickey heard creaking wood, and glanced over to see Minnie climbing up into the nest. “I hope I'm not bothering you.”

“Naw, it's fine.” He smiled at her, thinking that she couldn't be a bother if she tried. He pat the empty space next to him and she took the invitation. “I know I should be workin' with everyone else, but... I dunno, I guess part of me thinks I'll never be more ready than I am now.” He then chuckled quietly. “Weird part is, I should be scared, and nervous, and anxious, but...” He opened his empty hands. He was at peace, come what may.

“I think that's called hope,” Minnie replied, hands on her lap. “And I feel the same way. I didn't come here to lecture you to rejoin everyone. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” After a brief moment of hesitation, she leaned to his side, and rested her head on his shoulder.

A long time ago, Mickey's heart would've jumped into his throat at the mere idea of her skin touching his. Now he could silently put his arm around her, eyes staying on the sunset and enjoying the serene silence. Tomorrow, there was no going back. Whatever decisions either of them made, they'd have to live with it. Mickey had to go back to his home, and that was that. He exhaled deeply out of his nostrils, dispelling the last of his fears. “Minnie?”

“Hm?” Her eyes had closed, and now they opened.

“When I grant you your freedom tomorrow... you can go anywhere you like. The world's ready for you. And, if you want... my palace is ready for you too.” He'd finally said it, he'd finally gotten it out, and it was as if he could breathe naturally again. He didn't dare look at her face to spoil the moment, and in one way, felt better about having said it regardless of whatever answer she was ready to give.

Minnie, for her part, was now staring right at him, eyes wide. She had hoped to hear such a proposition, but much like her freedom, had felt she might not gain it. As always, Mickey made the impossible possible. He probably didn't even realize he was blushing. She swallowed, making her own decision. She did want to live with him, did want to spend the rest of her life with him – but it wouldn't be right unless he knew the extent of her feelings. No more games, no more denial, no more nerves getting in the way of everything. She licked her lips, and then hugged his arm, working up the last of her strength. “Mickey, I... there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a long time.” She couldn't face him, not yet, not until it was all out and done with. “I'm... I'm in.... I'm in-”

“Minnie?” Mickey suddenly interrupted her, still without turning his head in her direction.

She stopped, surprised. “What?”

“I have a feeling that what you want to tell me is pretty important.” In fact, he had a 99% chance guess of what it was, and was fighting his own desperate urge to return it. “And I want to hear it. I really do. I've been wanting to hear it since I first laid eyes on you...”

“...But?” Of course there was a “but”, and it had better be a good one.

“But it won't feel right, until you're not my slave anymore.” Mickey sat up straighter, rolling his shoulders, and taking her hands into his own. “I know by now you're your own independent person, and that whatever you feel is what you have, and not because of the lamp. Even so... I just... I have to hear it once the shackles come off, and you're... just you.” Now he finally looked at her, eyes full of guilt, with the more selfish parts of his brain kicking him over and over again. Despite that, it felt like the right thing to do, and Mickey was stubborn when it came to his own sense of morality.

Thankfully, it was one of the things Minnie admired about him, and was a part of those things she'd been about to confess to. Naturally she was disappointed that she couldn't say what her heart begged her to, but she bore no grudge. “I understand,” she said softly, her fingers intertwining with his own. It was cute to see relief flooding his face. “I've waited this long... I can wait a little longer.” She let out a melodious giggle, affectionately nuzzling her nose to his. “In fact, once I'm free, I may never stop saying it.”

Mickey had grown a lot since he first met Minnie, but an action like that was still enough to send him reeling. “Uhhh... make sure I don't take that back...” Because usually what happened in these sort of situations, as far as he understood them, was that once those certain words were said, certain actions tended to follow. Like kisses. On the lips. Why did he have to be such a good guy when he was seconds away from his first real kiss?! Being a good guy really sucked sometimes! “No, no, I meant it, don't wanna hear it until the battle is over and the day is won.” And his hormones would just have to shut up and deal with it.

Minnie wasn't exactly helping matters by now choosing to crawl and sit in his lap, but he eventually managed to get his heart to stop beating like a rambunctious drummer. Once his body settled, he wrapped his arms around her, and she nestled up comfortably. Tomorrow was a big day, and it couldn't come any sooner. “Can I say I'm really glad I met you?” Minnie asked, her voice a delicate whisper, her fingers curled up against his chest.

Mickey laughed a little. “Yeah, sure. I think that counts.” He stroked her arm, content to watch her, content to be with her, content to have this moment of time that he knew wouldn't last forever. “And, for the record... same here.” She had changed him, and he'd changed her, and they couldn't have been more grateful. That feeling of hope grew stronger and stronger as they established that new goal together. Tomorrow, they'd be master and servant no longer. A new bond would form, pure and everlasting, and theirs would be a new life they could spend together.

When the stars began to glitter in the night sky, they made no wishes, as they were now so full of belief for their dreams that they saw no need to. No one and nothing could take this hope away.

Not even Daisy, who Donald had to yank away three times over -“C'MON IT'LL BE FUNNY!”

~*~

Somehow, they all managed to sleep a dreamless sleep, and once they were among the waking world, every single member of the crew was filled with expectation. They all wore great big smiles, and Goofy had to constantly remind everyone that eating too fast would make them all sick, even though he'd finished his eggs in three seconds. How, was best not questioned.

The meal was eaten, and everyone gathered outside, steeling themselves. Donald hefted the rolled-up magic carpet over his shoulder, and Mickey brought out all the pieces of the map. He laid them out on the steering wheel separately, to take one last look at them. No one dared to say a word as Mickey began to place one on top of the other, as if they were pages of a book instead of a flat map. Once the fourth piece was put on top, the strange scribbles began to take on a white glow, illuminating what once was lost, the pages slowly turning themselves. Now they changed and twisted, creating letters Mickey could read, and he did so out loud.

“A kingdom lost, a time forgotten,

The rightful rule misbegotten,

Take me there, take me hence,

Here we stand – our last defense!”

Before the spell was cast, Mickey was puzzled – the words seemed to be insulting the Phantom Prince, so he couldn't have created this spell. So who did? But there was no time for curious inquiries – smog began to swirl out of the pages, fast and rapid, enveloping the entire ship in the blink of an eye. Friends grasped each other's hands and the sails billowed, a harsh wind picking up. They then heard a great roar, not like that of a lion or a monster, but the sound of the very earth itself ripped in two. No one wanted to break the circle and so they stayed, as the flying ship...

… dropped.

“I HAVE SO MANY REGRETS IN MY LIFE!” Horace screamed, and a swift kick from his wife kept him from going into a full blown panic attack.

“This is a new one,” Goofy had to shout over the howling winds, eyebrows raised as he tried to squint through the smog. “Usually when we put a map on the wheel, it just starts leading itself to the destination. This must be some spell.”

“Is anyone else noticing a huge change in scenery?” Donald asked, willing up a small wind of his own to try and break through the darkness. Now everyone could see what he meant, but only briefly, as the sun was blocked out – by the earth itself! The ground had split up, and now they were going underneath it, walls of rock and dirt going above them.

Mickey's clever brain put an answer to everyone's question. “Hang on, no wonder no one could ever find the lost kingdom! It's... underground?!” Even as he said it and could see it to be true, he was in disbelief. He had so many questions and doubted he'd ever get all the answers. But with a shake of his head, his resolve strengthened. Ultimately, it didn't matter where the kingdom was or how it came to be this way – it was only the place his parents were kept, and once they were rescued, it could crumble to ashes for all he cared.

The ship went down deeper, deeper, deeper still, until it became difficult to see, the sun unable to touch them anymore. Just as they were about to be plunged into inky darkness, glimpses of light began to glimmer from the walls of earth around them. The smog began to clear, and soon the crew could see they were surrounded by glowing crystals of all kinds, a treasure that had been abandoned centuries ago. The ship itself began to slow to a stop, and the walls of earth above began to close back up. The “map” on the ship's wheel stopped glowing, the pages falling to the deck silently. One by one, the group began to let go, with Mickey going first to pick up the fallen pieces. For all he knew, the way in was the same way out, so he tucked them into his waistband for safe-keeping.

“Take a look at that!” Goofy declared, the first one to look over the side of the ship at the world below. “It's the forgotten kingdom... I think?”

Everyone joined his side, and his confusion was understandable. Mickey's internal remark about the kingdom crumbling to ashes was more than metaphorical. Maybe once upon a time there had been tall impressive buildings and busy streets interwoven through homes, but there was little here now than debris and fallen relics. There were no people, no animals, not even a hint of a dead plant to be found. Given enough time, a structure could decay and collapse, but this seemed a far worse version than time's steady hand – it was as if whatever had been there was ripped apart, and now continued to die. Even now, as Mickey could see, one part of a dwelling lost a piece of roof, but before it could hit the ground, it dissolved into nothing. The shadowy remains reminded him of the brief glimpse he'd gotten of the Phantom Prince – and perhaps whatever had happened to him also happened to his kingdom.

“Kind of hoped our grand battle wouldn't be in such a dump,” Daisy huffed, helping Panchito and Jose lower the anchor into place. “Who'd want to rule over this graveyard?”

“The guy's evil, no one said he was sane,” Donald reminded her as he untied the magic carpet. “You ready, Mickey?”

“Ready as I'll ever be,” Mickey replied, and he was the first one to descend down the rope, his heart pounding. This time, no one would be left behind to guard the ship – mostly because, as far as they could see, there was no one to guard it from. So when the entire crew touched the cold stone ground, they were joined by Pluto, and the hovering carpet. “Minnie, can we get the first one done?”

“Now's a good a time as any, Mickey.”

“Good. Then I wish my sword won't ever break, and my carpet won't ever be torn.” The day before, Minnie had kept her word and created several ideas about wishes to make for the final battle. But the timing would have to be perfect – the last thing Mickey and Minnie needed was to be physically worn out in the heat of battle. The lamp puffed pink smoke, and both the sword inside the scabbard and the carpet floating above their heads glowed the same color for a brief second. Both mice took a breath, allowing their strength to be drained. It wasn't enough to cause a disadvantage in battle, but they would need to wait before doing it again.

“How are we going to find the Sultan and Sultana in all this mess?” Panchito asked, trying to squint.

“Maybe in that gigantic golden palace?” Jose pointed out in all sincerity, as everyone had been so focused on facing forward no one bothered turning, say, left.

The palace wasn't exactly in front of them, but now that everyone was facing the same way, it did feel a little embarrassing they hadn't seen it earlier. It was the only building that was left perfectly intact without nary a scratch, shining in bright colors as if the sands of time had never fallen.

“How come that looks so snazzy and everything else... doesn't?” Clarabelle scratched her head.

“If I had to take a guess,” Mickey said as he began to walk, the others following suit, “a guy as arrogant as this probably used his magic to keep the most important place to him nice and shiny. He's full of himself... and that's how we'll take him down.” Anyone with an ego this big wouldn't expect defeat, so he'd leave plenty of openings. It didn't need any further explanation than that, but Mickey was tempted to say something anyway, as the dead kingdom was incredibly silent. There was no wind to be heard, or even the sound of vermin skittering through the walls. There wasn't even any smell of decay or death, as if whoever had lived here died so long ago there wasn't a trace of remains – or that whatever happened to this place also “happened” to the living. Neither of these were pleasant thoughts, and Mickey tried not to think of them, which was difficult. In essence, they were walking upon the world's largest graveyard.

As they all began to approach the mighty palace, the ground began to rumble, and off in the remains there were the familiar sounds of chomping fangs and powerful talons hitting the ground. “Sounds like he made us a welcome party! Whatever happens, keep moving forward!”

Just as Mickey made his bold declaration, heartless monsters pounced into view, ready to start their battle all over again. This time, there was no fear or surprise from any of the crew, who knew what to do and where to strike. As long as they struck the heart-marks, their foes would know defeat, and with guns out, swords drawn, and fists and feet flailing, the heroes set out to war. The creatures took on new forms, mismatched beasts from the depths of the underworld in warped shapes and designs, all with the intent to destroy. As the fight began, everyone remembered Mickey's words – they had to get to the palace, and nothing would stand in their way!

With his blade drawn, Mickey sliced off the wing of a spellican, with his trusty hound tackling down a mushroom abomination, allowing him to keep dashing toward the front steps of the palace. As he ran, he saw movement – and what he saw startled him in more ways than one.

There on the first step stood the Phantom Prince, arrogantly watching the battle with a confident sneer as he towered over his two victims. One was the proud Sultan Al, his body ragged and worn out, his toned shape now thin and frail, his mighty beard stained with flecks of dirt and blood. As horrified as Mickey was to see his almighty father reduced to such a state, it was the other prisoner that threw him off. What in the world was Pete doing here?! He and Al were on their knees, wrists bound by chains, their heads beginning to lift as they heard the ongoing battle.

“Why is the kingdom's advisor here?!” Mickey shouted, trying to think of a logical explanation. “He's supposed to be back home and taking care of things while I'm gone!”

“Friend of yours?” Donald asked, trying to hold down a knightly aberration.

“Friend is a stretch...” Mickey shook his head, now was not the time for semantics! “Okay, now he's part of the rescue mission!” And where was his mother? If he kept on asking questions, he'd never get anywhere, he needed to move! “Minnie, you got it in you for another wish?”

“Yes, but just one!” A chameleon with spikes all along its back was trying to trap Minnie with its tongue, but she'd grabbed it at the right time and was now tying him up with his own appendage. “Make it quick!”

“I wish for the chains on my father and Pete to break!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could see pink smoke around the two men. Pete stayed perfectly still, but Al held up his freed wrists in wonder – before jumping to his feet and trying to punch the Phantom Prince's lights out. “Way to go, Pa! That's my old man!” It was a failed effort, since the Phantom Prince dodged the blow and Al was too weak to catch himself, taking a tumble down the steps. “Pa!”

Mickey ran as fast as he could, the wish creating a flash of pain in his chest, Pluto barking at his heels. Why wasn't Pete moving, and why was the Phantom Prince so calm about everything? Maybe Pete's legs were chained too? He didn't have time to check with Minnie if she was up for another wish - “Pluto, get my father to the magic carpet, and keep him safe!” he then stuck two fingers in his mouth, calling the carpet itself for the command.

Pluto was quick to obey, running ahead of Mickey to bite down on an approaching cat-like creature. Once it was sufficiently scared off, he pushed Al's chest with his head, trying to get him to sit up. Al got up dizzily, and hugged the dog in gratitude. “When we get home, you are getting an entire mountain of bones to bury!” Pluto licked his cheek, before taking a mouthful of his sleeve to help him towards the oncoming carpet.

As much as Mickey wanted to embrace his father, sentimentality might get him killed. If Pete was still restrained, he needed to be freed and fast. “Hang on, Pete, I'm coming!” Passing by his father and pet, he raced up the stairs, sword out, ready to cut down whatever was still holding Pete back. “Don't worry,  I'll get you out of here!” But as Mickey made it to Pete's side, the chains were broken, so why -

“Thanks, your highness, I'm really grateful... that you're still such a sucker!” Mickey hadn't prepared for Pete to be here in the first place – so he also wasn't prepared for a heavy fist to slug him right in the face, or the follow-up strike to his stomach. Mickey gagged, feeling his breakfast making a return, unable to hear his father scream his name. “But it's time to cut you down to size!” Though Mickey had trained diligently and had increased his strength, he was still much, much smaller compared to Pete, who easily lifted him by his wrist and snatched his sword.

“MICKEY!” Minnie shrieked, and at once everyone was aware of the threat to their favorite friend. In a frantic frenzy, they scrambled past their foes, trying to save Mickey from what seemed to be a bloody death.

Mickey was stunned, his eyes swimming in pain. “P-Pete?! You're really going to kill me?!”

“Aw, quit bein' a drama prince. I ain't after you... you're just delivering the real prize!” With one swift slice of the sword, he cut off Mickey's belt – and the lamp attached to it clattered to the floor.

Mickey had truly thought he prepared for everything, every scenario and any plot twist. But here and now, he was facing his greatest nightmare. Though he tried to wrestle himself free from Pete, each pull told him the fight was over. There was nothing he could do – he'd been played from the start. He was going to lose her. He was going to lose everyone.

Now did the Phantom Prince move, instantly picking it up in his smoldering hands, holding it up to the heavens. “At last, my treasure has returned to me!”

“NO!” Mickey kicked about in Pete's grasp, repeating the same word over and over as terror flooded his body. “NO NO NO NOOOOOO!”

It was too late – all the Phantom Prince had to do was rub it once, twice, three times – and the world turned pink.

The lamp shook and shivered, colorful pink smoke spewing out of every orifice, sparkles and fireworks exiting from the tip, all just as the fateful day Mickey had accidentally made the lamp his own. The golden cuffs on Mickey's wrists turned into ashes, swirling in the air until they reformed on the Phantom Prince's wrists, no longer sharing Mickey's name. With them gone, Pete tossed Mickey down the stairs, sending him crashing into his father. Once more did the ethereal woman rise from the smoke, and once more did she make the creed of the genies known.

“THOU SHALL OWN THY GENIE UNTIL THE LAMP IS TOUCHED BY ANOTHER.

THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THE SAME WISH MORE THAN ONCE.

THOU SHALL NOT MAKE THY GENIE SHED TEARS.”

As the woman vanished, the Phantom Prince waved a hand, and all the heartless monsters froze in place. “I don't think I'll need any of these anymore. It's a shame, I felt really creative with this last batch.”

The crew was momentarily stupefied by this horrid change of events, with Minnie staring at the new name on her wrist in despair. Goofy broke the spell over them first, his face a rare shade of pure anger. “Get your filthy hands off that lamp, you no good thief!” His sword was drawn, his blood hot -

“I wish that you, Captain, cannot harm me.”

And then he fell face forward, not out of his typical clumsiness, but with all of his energy completely drained. He struggled to get to his knees, to stop the Phantom – yet with that thought, his sword flopped out of his hands, as if his own fingers refused to obey. “You... you...!” Mickey flinched, feeling the wish rip through him, and his father held him, not knowing what else to do.

Minnie had her hands out, unwillingly using her magic on her friend, and trembled, her fingers twitching with power. Daisy grabbed her by the wrist, trying to turn her around. “Minnie, stop!”

“I – I can't!” Minnie tried to pull her hands back, tried to exert control over things she couldn't stop. “As long as he holds the lamp, I can't do anything else!”

“Then let's get it back!” Donald held up his hand, ready to summon up his most powerful storm yet-

“I wish that Donald cannot use his powers against me.”

And he fell to one knee, feeling the crackle of lightning burning inside his own skin, choking in untold agony. Mickey's chest seared with torment - Daisy screamed - “I wish that Daisy cannot use her Eye to see what I don't desire her to see.” - and held her forehead, as it throbbed in pain, Mickey clawing at his neck - “I wish that Horace and Clarabelle can't use their skills to hurt me, I wish that Panchito cannot aim his pistols at me, I wish that Jose can't burn a single hair on my head, I wish that Pluto cannot bite me, I wish that Mickey cannot draw his blade on me.”

With each awful wish made, another member of the crew collapsed, try as they might to fight it otherwise. But even the sheer idea of trying to go against the wishes made their bodies twist and turn, making their struggles all the worse. Minnie covered her mouth with her hands, her legs trembling at what she had been forced to do – and with every wish, her own strength drained and – oh, Mickey! She  sprinted toward her former Master, who lay in his father's arms, writhing in physical suffering.

“Mickey!” Al tried to hold his son upright, panic in every letter. “Mickey, what's happening to you?!” But Mickey was so devastated by every wish made that even speech was difficult.

“You don't think I spent all this time without a moment of preparation, do you?” The Phantom Prince chuckled, amused by the afflictions he had cast on everyone. “Now I have everything I need to restore my kingdom's glory! With Scheherazade's All-Seeing-Eye, and now, my genie returned to me, nothing can stand in my way!”

Minnie clasped Mickey's hand, ready to beg forgiveness, but she had caught a word that was so utterly confusing and yet so profoundly clear that she couldn't think. “Re... returned...?” No. It wasn't possible. She knew all her masters, and he wasn't in any of her memories – which – which – which meant - “You... you're my first Master?”

“First Master?” The Phantom Prince laughed at the question, as accurate as it was. “Who do you think created you? I did erase your memories... but it seems you've finally caught on. You were my greatest masterpiece! When my father asked my sister and I to develop a way to help our people, I was the genius who came up with a perfect servant! One who could grant your every desire! You were supposed to be my way to the throne!”

Minnie staggered – she still couldn't remember any of this, and she wanted to deny it, wanted no part of his wicked schemes, but that feeling came – the one that had kept telling her to remember would be cruel, that she must never think of it, must never go back to that time. Now that feeling told her he was right. All this time – she'd been part of the enemy, created from the same man who had hurt Mickey so much – Mickey's hand suddenly found her wrist.

Sweat was pouring down his face, yet he still stood, eyes hellfire and voice dark. “Minnie... is not... your servant,” he snarled, breathing deeply, venom beating with every throb of his heart. “She is not part of you! She is her own person! And I won't let you hurt her!”

“A person?” The Phantom Prince cupped his chin in thought, not that this bothered him too deeply. “I suppose she was, once. But then I made her into something useful.”

Minnie held herself. She didn't want to hear this.

“You remember that idiotic Imp? They were close to replicating my design, but they missed a vital ingredient – a mortal soul.”

No no no she didn't want to know didn't want to hear didn't want to remember stop stop stop -

“And what better soul to serve my needs than my own daughter?”

And then it...all...came...back.

DADDY PLEASE STOP IT HURTS

SILENCE YOU WILL OBEY ME

BROTHER HOW COULD YOU

YOU KILLED MY PRECIOUS GRANDDAUGHTER

I WILL BE SULTAN

I WILL BE REMEMBERED

MY FIRST WISH IS TO TAKE THE LIVES OF MY UNGRATEFUL FAMILY!

Bits and pieces swirled and slammed into her brain, overloading her mind, a pain so great that it could not be handled by any natural mortal soul. Her eyes rolled back, all of it was too much, too much, TOO MUCH – Al caught her, trying to keep her steady and awake. “Child! Child, snap out of it, you mustn't go back!” Any second now Minnie was ready to faint, to will her brain to forget it all again, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Yet she did not cry, as if something said that if she did, that truly would be the end of things. Just as it did back then – back – there was still a piece missing, a vital piece -

All of this happened within seconds – when Mickey heard the word “daughter”, all rational sense inside of him was destroyed. Though his bones and muscles ached, all of it went numb, and were replaced by sheer, hard, deep hatred. There was nothing in him but hate, hate, hate, and he was blind to all else. “You... MONSTER!” He charged up the stairs, anger frothing from his mouth, not caring that he didn't have a sword, he'd tear the Phantom apart with his bare hands!

Except the wishes wouldn't allow it. “I wish you can't lay a finger on me, Son of Scheherazade.” Mickey's strength gave out, far too exhausted from all the desires granted. As soon as he came within swinging distance, his knees gave out, and his hands were immobile. He fought as hard as he could, trying to get some muscle to work, eyes swimming in tears for how gravely Minnie had been hurt, but it did no good. The Phantom Prince lifted his foot, and kicked him in the chest, sending him back down. “A valiant effort, but all for naught. The time has come to end our game. But you all now have the highest honor of witnessing my reign come back to life! It's a fitting finale for your journey.” With a snap of his fingers, the heartless monsters dissolved, as their purpose was no more. “I wish for the Sultan and Sinbad's crew to be trapped within the dungeons!”

Pete had been content to watch the entire heroic mission fall, but hearing that the Phantom had used his own daughter as guinea pig had been enough to make his jaw drop and question a few things. If the Phantom cared so little about his own flesh and blood, then how much could Pete get away with? He only found his voice when the last wish was made. “Dungeon?” Pete balked, even as the ground began to shake. “What are you doing?! You should kill them!”

Pete's cry went ignored, as thick, gnarly vines shot up from the ground, twisting around the legs of the crew, even managing to capture the carpet. One by one, they each began to be pulled down into the earth, calling out for each other, trying to hold each other, but before they sunk in, they all echoed the same.

“MICKEY! MINNIE!”

Mickey was the very last, and only then did Minnie “wake up” from her past, seeing her beloved pulled down into the deep. She screamed and tried to grab his hands, knowing that no matter how much she pulled, she couldn't save him. He held on tightly, but his fingers began to slip.

“I'll come back for you!” Mickey shouted as he felt the earth swallowing up his chest. “Don't give up! I'll free you, I promise! I PROMISE!” They held on as long as bones would allow, and with one, last, pull – he was gone.

And she was alone. Oh, Pete was there, his doubts and worries now stronger than ever before, the Phantom was there, laughing madly in his triumph, but she was alone, alone, alone.

“My reign begins anew! Cast out all hope and blot out the sun, FOR MY KINGDOM SHALL LIVE FOREVER!”

[floatingeye]

A WOMAN UNDER THE INFLUENCE (1974)

Dir: John Cassavetes

MEDITATIONS ON THE ORIGINAL FACE

With this, Cassavetes joins my list of cinematic masters who evoke a transcendent humanity, next to maybe six more. This is rare praise from me. The man cuts deep, and in progressively deeper ways which I'm going to note here, extending a discussion that began in previous comments. The easy thing to say is that it's an emotionally shattering movie, as visceral as any of the films on madness, better in fact. There had been many good films in this niche prior of course. If you want detailed visual metaphor for the woman's situation, you'll find a great set in Red Desert. A more angsty one in Through Glass Darkly, together with harrowing emotion and Protestant guilt. Repulsion has the more eye- grabbing hallucination. Then of course is what many reviewers mention when talking about Cassavetes. Usually dubbed as realism, it is the lasting impact of lived experience, the intense focus on the moment-at-hand. You live through a Cassavetes film and all that. Work for some, transcendent for others. But you can read about that elsewhere, here I want to leverage a somewhat different set of notions which I think reveal a deeper genius at play. The Cassavetes effect is something I have not encountered anywhere else. See, it is not just the tethering to moment or the undefined horizon. Ozu had done this, Antonioni and others. Altman was trying at this time. Marienbad was fully an evocation of trying to define horizons. A small advance in what Cassavetes does is an extreme fixation to moment. Remarkable in itself, but in the long stretch it would achieve nothing but nihilism. Buddhists, whose main area of expertise is exactly an awareness of emptiness, what is usually transferred in the West as 'being in the moment', caution against single-minded fixation on fixation. It's one of the most tiresome things I know in my own meditation, trying to be in the moment. Cassavetes is similarly exhaustive up until a point. Confining our gaze may prove so suffocating some viewers will want out, that's the gamble: the reward can only be apparent in retrospect. During my first watch of Husbands, I was exasperated and ready to write him off, that is until a certain point. But it matters that we work to stay tethered to that moment-at-hand, mirroring the husband's commitment to his loved one, the commitment to departing friends in Husbands, to forging a relationship in Minnie and so on. It matters that we stay in that space, investing of ourselves. Within that space is the lovely Rowlands, as much an auteur in that space as Cassavetes is of the overall film. Her performance here tops any of Brando's in improvised creation of the situations. Without a horizon herself, Cassavetes would famously refuse directions during the shoot, she throws herself in aching, innocent, calligraphic madness. It is the shyness of wanting to please and be a part of others but not knowing which parts of you to bare in what time, the most touching ordeal. An actress unsure of the extent of her performance. Implicitly, she seems to know the scenes with music (starting with the black coworker who breaks into tenor song over dinner) are partly hallucinated by her character, and knows they are not necessarily not happening. Hence, the confusion and hesitated reaction. And then she goes away. This is where the movie starts, very slowly. So far it has all been preparation, fixing the mind for meditation. As in previous films, this narrative shift creates desire, lack, expectation, human horizon. In Husbands it was the trip to London, in Minnie the proposal. It's a masterful effect at work, so risky because he leaves it completely up to the viewer to stay tethered. Masterful because it asks of us to discover the character as her close ones have known her since before everything, before the anger, confusion and labels—not mad, wife or mother, just the sweet face you've tied your life to. Now we want to see her back, see how she is, like her husband and children do. And because we haven't had any distractions leading up to the shift, no subplots, music, montage or visual flow to break the concentration, it registers in a tremendous way. Lesser films would discuss memory, here we're made to have memories—but if and only if we have been patient in the knowing. I haven't seen anything like this until the recent crop of Asian films like 2046 and Syndromes and a Century, and there without one tenth of the livingness achieved here. Is that how it ends though? No, and here is the deeper genius for me. This may be the most heartwarming film I've seen for just the last scene, a wholly new glimpse as the couple tidy up their place, alone at last, safe, calm in each other's presence. And then it ends. Another shift and horizon, this time to who these people are away from all the public crap of life. And how poignant? Love as quietly taking care of the same house together. As in previous films, we have presence in the moment, presence over time, the shift to horizon, and second shift in the end. Fixing the mind to one place then releasing so you hover over the world, awareness rippling outwards. This may be the closest to meditation any filmmaker has come, and I'm usually a stickler about this. Oh, it remains work, but the cumulative world built over the course of several films has never been equaled in cinema for my taste. Something to meditate upon.

5/5