#Same with master breaking and destruction!! Guys come on

[mintytrifecta]

Anyway if all the realms merged with ninjago and the lego movie canonically has realms that can be walked/driven through a tunnel to get to it links both universe's together meaning the lego movie and the ninjago show can be tangentially canon and related to each other in this essay I will-

[lunaroracleofvenus]

What manifestation technique is best designed for you? PAC

Left to Right

Pile one

This is my pile of witches and warlocks. The best way you manifest is through spells, and rituals. You have magic in your blooddddd hunnyy.  You might be highly mythical, intuitive, and just divine. Use this divine nature in a creative way, and all you desire shall manifest… this could be through glamour magic, love spells, abundance spells..

Pile two

These are my divine feminines. This pile best manifests by setting intentions and going with the flow. Working with the feminine via moon rituals, water element or just that shakti power will draw all you desire to you… there is a huge theme of co-creation and just feminine energy. This pile might need to release what doesn’t work emotionally and truly tap into their feminine wisdom when it comes to manifesting… what works for you, might not work for everyone else and that is okay… you might be alone in this power…

Pile three

This pile best manifest by mastering the earth element. This pile might be able to use scripting to manifest or just using the natural element to manifest. Could use some earthy/elemental witchcraft….

 But what i am hearing most is having self compassion and really devoting yourself to what you are trying to manifest = fruition of the desire. This might look like manifesting one thing at a time, and while you are manifesting it, you sleep, breath, and dream it. You continuously tap into the desire, and deeply ground yourself into the feeling consistently. Though remember balance, and leave a bit of space for life and your mental health. The whole saying, let it go and detachment for manifesting, DOES NOT apply to you. Your attachment to it really creates it…. This might be my obsessive manifestors… do you guys have any strong pluto in your charts btw???

Pile four

So there’s a lot of overdoing in this pile, and anxiety. There might be a lot of freezing and overthinking when it comes to choosing and sticking to what you are attempting to create. Rest assured it’s okay to feel how you feel at this moment. Rest assured that things will and can get better. Spirit is saying just remember to be ambitious, flexible but also grounded. Listen to where your intuition is guiding you. Manifesting isn’t supposed to add MORE problems to life. Like life can be difficult enough… stop taking it so seriously tbh. Like yes you can create change, but you create change in little and big practical ways everyday. From the moment you choose to brush your teeth, to the moment you decide on studying. Didn’t get much of a method for this pile! You might need to give manifesting a break and come back to it…

Pile five 

This pile might manifest best through chaos, and destruction. You seem to create great things from dark places. Where people see destruction, you see a moment to create. You might be really good at seeing people’s potential, and helping them shift into that.. How you can effectively use this power for yourself to manifest, I think is by doing shadow work, emotionally releasing rituals, and working with darker goddesses/gods. 

For example, let’s say you wanted to manifest a home, maybe journal about blockages you might have.. Do you feel undeserving? Do you feel its unattainable? Or maybe there is a childhood wound? Once you understand your depth, choose a ritual to release it, and then maybe channel those same feelings into getting what u want or set your desired intentions after you have released what doesn’t serve you?

Also,  I don’t know how to properly describe but channeling anger, fear and etc might work really well for you… being put through trials and tribulations might also work well for you… hopefully y’all get what im trying to put down <3

This pile gives me the vibe of the type of people that go through the most horrible break up and 6 months later, they look good asf and they make 5x times what they used to make…

Pile six

this is a very Venusian pile. This pile manifests best through instruments, dance, and music. Also having a communion with god as well… speaking to god, letting god/goddess know what you want.. Keeping that relationship with spirit will really help you..

Also, gratitude practices might really help you manifest your desired things. and, general affirmations might really work for you. Everything is as it should be. Everything is working out. I feel great.. those type of affirmations!

[roxannepolice]

Between plain irritation with acting like the Master could be just seamlessly reintroduced and if you don't agree then you must hate the character on the one hand, and the fact that RTD is quite obviously itching to write them again, even has a guy mourning his dead wife with Ten's line from TSOD, I think what needs to be addressed is the poetics and tonality.

Like, Fifteen clearly is upset about destruction of Gallifrey and does think of Time Lords as their people, in fact he's wearing the most Gallifreyan cultural elements on himself out of all regenerations. At the same time, RTD doesn't seem as hung up on them as a personal axis universi as the writing was keen on being recently, so I don't think the Master's eventual return will follow that path. Like, on the one hand they can't be reintroduced in a purely hostile way, because then the dynamic would be fully negative, yet at the same time it shouldn't be another "the Master only wants to be friends again". They have to be reestablished as a character with their independent selfish agenda, yet not focused solely on hating the Doctor.

I don't think any "x is actually the Master" plotline would work, just because you don't go out of your way to insert a tooth side plot in a story that has nothing to do with them, only to later use it only as a flashback after the revelation of another plot device of a chameleon arch (like, the storytelling awareness that you do in fact have to establish aspects of the lore that are relevant to the story at hand seems to be back on the menu, so you'd have to one, establish who the Master is and two, how the chameleon arch works there just aren't enough episodes) and also RTD seems to really like the idea of Time Lords sniffing each other like cats in heat. Total reset and comeback of baby Master also seems, one, like a cop out, two, also superfluous to the tooth, so for all that Belinda only having abstract "Mum and Dad", and a break up from when she was a teenager is off for RTD, I don't think this is going anywhere either.

So I think the obvious plotline for when you want to reintroduce a genius villain with a situationship with the protagonist after a major fuck up is "there's totally only one person that can help now", I mean, Belinda specifically connecting there being no other Time Lords with no one coming to help seems to nudge in this direction. Like, think Loki in the Dark World, right? Reluctant cooperation is what Thoschei Casablanca actually is! Except, the Doctor straight up doesn't know about the tooth. So we have to look to mysterious hand suddenly appearing on UNIT HQ's terrace. Still don't know who that is, the following scenario would work if this is Kate, though the tonality would be different, but for now I'm going to let my imagination loose and go with "mrs Flood is actually the daedric prince of television in the Pantheon (you get it, right? Flood, as in waves, so if the god of light controls cinema, then waves are what makes television, also mrs Flood is an anagram of, uuuh, old forms, as in old forms of communication, she popped up out of nowhere as she seems to do, and had red nails because she knows it's red fingernails that pick up the Master), and while not exactly good, she's impersonally invested in the Doctor going on as what feeds her and also ships thoschei". Ok, so with that.

I think the neatest way to get the Master back in is the penultimate episode having the Doctor taken away, perhaps trapped in another daedric realm by, ugh, Cath Palug, the monstrous cat of Welsh folklore and arthuriana. And Belinda, and Ruby, and probably some UNIT memebers (this is why Kate would work too), are all moping because, well maybe the Earth was saved but the Doctor had to sacrifice himself, and someone goes "If there was anything could be done to bring him back…", and suddenly mrs Flood is in the frame, giving the audience a jumpscare asking "Would you do it? Hmmm? What… would you? Hmmm? What would any of you be willing to do? Hmmm? Would you sail to the ends of the universe, and beyond, to fetch back clever Doctor and his precious TARDIS?", and everyone is like "Aye.", and then she goes "Alright. But if you're goin' brave the weird, and haunted shores, in the chaos outside of the universes, then… you will need a captain who knows those waters." AAAND SHE PULLS OUT THE TOOTH AND IT SAYS "So tell me, what's become of my ship?"

Roll credits.

[artemisia-musings]

Lessons in Self-Destruction

Minors DNI! 18+ only

This is a dark fic! Please read the tags and if any bother you please do not read! I am not responsible for your media consumption. 

Summary: Leon was content destroying himself. Drinking his troubles away, eager to put himself in an early grave. One night, a girl approaches him at the bar and the rest of the night is a blur. He awakens to the consequences of his drunken antics. 

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, dark themes, suicidal thoughts, drinking, reference to non-con. Overall depressing!

Note: This is my first fic, sorry for any errors/incorrect grammar. Got this idea after watching Vendetta and I needed to get it out. I literally have not been able to think of anything but Leon in like two months <3 more fics in the works!

Destroying himself came easily to Leon. It was easy to implode, to feel the life fade out of him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to die or feel nothing, he supposed there wasn’t much difference. All his life he had felt too much. Too much pain and heartbreak, his soul beaten and battered, every time he tried to stand back up and be the good guy he was always swiftly reminded that he didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. He was a pawn, a puppet controlled and jerked around by his cruel masters. He hadn’t been in control of his own life in damn near twenty years. Forced from his dream of being a cop over an event he couldn’t control, whisked away and trained to be a good little boy for the government. Kill this, save them, destroy that, sit boy, stay boy, roll over and fetch. Good boy. How many people did he have to kill for this to be over? How many people did he have to watch die? How many friends must he lose? It was the same damn plot over and over again, his life one broken record he was forced to replay. 

The man groaned and grasped the cheap glass he had set on the table, swinging back a hefty gulp of whiskey that burned just right on the way down. He was currently on his fifth drink of the night, hitting that sweet spot between tipsy and piss drunk. His head was spinning ever so slightly as he noticed his cup was getting awfully low. He gestured for the bartender to pour him another, feeling especially sorry for himself tonight. It was becoming his new favorite hobby. There was something so delightfully pathetic about heading down to the sleazy bar by his house and drinking himself stupid, to the point where he could almost forget about how much he fucking hated his life. The bartender, whom for the life of him, Leon could not remember the name of despite coming here almost every night, poured him another glass of Jack Daniels, a bemused expression on his face as he slid it over. 

“There you go, bud,” the bartender chuckled, turning away to help another customer who had sauntered over to the bar. 

The sound of the chuckle made Leon tense. His grip tightened around the glass as he huffed in annoyance. Bud. What did it take to earn a little damn respect? He was a hero, after all. An American hero, a patriot to his core. At least, that’s what he told himself on his more sober days. He was just a sacrificial lamb, a tool used to stop the evils threatening this nation—a weapon pulled out when ordinary soldiers and guns wouldn’t suffice. His jaw clenched as he wallowed in misery, raising the glass to his lips and knocking back its contents in one go.

“Bad day?” a feminine voice called out, breaking through his angst-fueled state. Leon flickered his gaze over next to him, eyeing up the young girl who had sat next to him at the bar. He hadn’t even noticed her presence, too self-absorbed in his own brooding. She looked out of place in the rundown dive bar, sticking out like a sore thumb among the fellow drunk middle-aged men who frequented these establishments. She looked young and fresh, a daisy among a garden of rot.

“You could say that,” Leon said with a dry chuckle, letting his gaze rake up and down her form. A tight shirt and a cute skirt. A tantalizing treat, designed to tease. She really ought to know better walking into a place like this dressed like that. Someone could get the wrong idea. He raised an eyebrow, feeling a warmth spread in his gut that hadn’t stirred in ages. “Now what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” 

The girl smiled, her glossy lips curling upwards as she brought her glass to her lips. She sipped its pink contents, the fruity concoction’s appearance alone was enough to make Leon feel queasy. “New to the neighborhood, I thought I’d check out the local watering hole,” she said with a shrug. 

Leon felt himself smile, probably his first genuine smile in ages. “Well if you're looking for overpriced drinks you’ve hit the jackpot” he huffed, waving the bartender over for another round. The girl giggled, the sound ringing in his ears. It was cute, an almost peaceful sound akin to a babbling brook or waves crashing on a beach. He felt himself relax slightly, his heart even skipping a beat. He knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way, he had well over a decade on this girl. She looked college-aged or at the very least freshly graduated. She had the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed naivety to her, the world not having beaten it out of her yet. 

“So what happened?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at her, his inebriated mind struggling to catch up. “You said you had a bad day,” she explained further.

“That I did, although you could say the past few years have been rough,” he admitted. 

“Well, I’ve been told I’m a good listener,” she pressed, resting her forearms on the bar counter as she leaned in closer, enough for him to smell the sweet fragrance of her perfume and to see the way her breasts squished together showing off her cleavage. Good Lord, she had to be aware of what she was doing. 

“Oh honey, that story would take a while to tell, you don’t wanna listen to some random drunk prattle on about his problems,” he said, shaking his head at her.

“Try me” she retaliated. Leon took a sip of the drink, feeling his cock stir in his pants as he turned to face her, trying his hardest not to let his gaze travel downwards. He could feel himself growing more intoxicated with each second, his inebriated mind growing desperate. Desperate for what though, that was the question. Someone to lend an ear while he bitched and moaned about how much he wanted to kill himself? The tender loving embrace of someone who cared about him? Did he crave the sinful indulgence of a lover? All of them combined? He didn’t know this girl, but looking at her calm collected self, feeling the warmth of her skin, and smelling the sweetness of her breath, he thinks he’d like to know her.

"When I was a kid, I used to think about the kind of man I'd grow up to be... I never thought my life would turn out this way." Leon shook his head, trying to find the words he wanted to say. Vulnerability was not his forte. “Have you ever thought about what happened in your life to make it all go wrong? About what you could have possibly done in your past life to make you deserve this? Do you know what it's like to not be the one in control?” Leon shook his head, feeling a lump form in his throat, emotion building up within him. He hated acknowledging his feelings, made him feel weak, which he was, he just hated admitting it. 

The girl gave him a soft sympathetic look, her small manicured hand reaching out and touching him gently. Leon hated pity, but he did appreciate the attempt at comfort. It wasn’t something he got a lot of. “I’m sure you did nothing to deserve this, you seem like a good man…” she trailed off, unsure of his name. “The world can be a fucked up place,” she murmured.

“Darlin’ you don’t even know the half of it” Leon scoffed, his larger calloused hand engulfing hers. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling, it was like some primal arousal in his gut, a heady warmth that caused him to shift restlessly in his seat. “And the name is Leon,” he added.

The girl seemed oblivious to his growing arousal, her hand squeezing his own gently as she gave him her name. “You don’t have to carry it alone, Leon. Everyone needs someone to talk to.”

“Dangerous words,” he chuckled dryly, pulling his hand away, his fingers reaching around the edge of the glass. "You're real eager, huh?" He leaned in, his breath heavy with whiskey. "You think you can fix me with your pretty smile and sweet talk?"

She didn’t pull back, her curled lips forming a knowing smile. There was something in the way she looked at him—like she wasn't afraid of the darkness in him. 

She should be.

“I ain’t trying to fix you, just understand you,” her voice took on a more flirtatious edge, 

Leon reached for his glass, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. His throat burned, but it wasn’t just the whiskey. The girl’s presence was like fire—too close, too hot, and it was starting to scorch him. The fire licked at his subconscious, urging him for more, craving the burn. 

"Don’t do this," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "You don’t know what you’re messing with."

She leaned in even closer, her lips brushing his ear. The heat of her breath was enough to make him dizzy, the combination of the alcohol and his pent-up desire made his head spin.

"Maybe I like danger," she whispered.

Leon could have snapped right then, grabbed her by the waist, and smashed his lips to hers in the middle of the bar for all to see. Instead, he took another gulp of his drink to calm his raging nerves. “You shouldn’t have said that sweetheart.”

The thing about drinking is that it’s a dangerous game. It starts slowly, a warm, fuzzy feeling, a dull hum that spreads through his limbs and brain after that first drink. At first, it’s like floating in a cloud, where the world feels distant and a little dreamy. His thoughts would become sluggish, and the edges of reality blur, but he didn’t mind because the numbness felt like a sweet relief. He could finally forget about his problems and the trauma that plagued him. The more he drank, the more the voices in his head became muffled, as if he was submerged underwater. For a brief while, everything was easy.

Then, the descent begins.

It's a shift he can never feel coming. The transition from a dream-like state to a nightmare. He became less aware and less in control of his own body. It was like he was no longer in the driver's seat, being shoved into the passenger side, forced to watch. Then the world would start to spin, and he was no longer in the front of the car at all, he was trapped in the dark of the trunk, blissfully unaware as his subconscious took over.

When Leon finally awakens from his drunken stupor he feels a warmth he isn’t used to feeling in his bed. The pounding in his head was throbbing, enough to make his teeth ache. He groaned, pinching his nose as he forced himself to sit up. That’s when he heard it.

That shrill feminine whine.

His heart rate speeds up, his breath hitching in his throat as he finally opens his eyes, turning to see a girl in his bed. Leon isn’t exactly a stranger to one-night stands, he doesn’t make a habit out of it, but sometimes if he feels desperate enough he’ll allow himself to indulge. 

If a one-night stand is an indulgence, he must have been overcome with gluttony last night.

The girl from the bar last time is next to him. Naked and handcuffed to his headboard, her lacy panties shoved in her mouth. She looks at him with wide fearful eyes, glassy and red-rimmed as if she had been crying. Purple hickies and bite marks are littering her skin and Leon notices what appears to be dried cum stains on her stomach and thighs. He lets out a low guttural groan, hands covering his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart. He hears muffled cries, her body jerking next to his. Slowly, he removes the used panties from her mouth, the girl gagging slightly. 

“Please,” she whimpers softly. “Please let me go, I won’t tell anyone I promise.” Her lower lip is trembling and her eyes are getting watery as if she is about to start crying again. Leon feels a pang in his chest, like a knife to the heart. She’s looking at him like he’s a monster, and he supposes now he is. 

Leon had always thought that despite the woes of his life, despite the fact he would never get any recognition for his work, at least he was a good guy. But as the naked and chained girl in his bed starts to cry, Leon doesn’t feel like a good guy anymore.

“Doll,” he starts, his hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears, feeling all the more like scum when she flinches away from him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I never met for this to happen.” Leon shakes his head, feeling his own eyes start to get watery. Fuck was he about to cry? “This isn’t me, I wouldn’t do this.” But he did, the evidence of his assault is chained up right next to him. The pair sit next to each other and cry. The girl’s cries are fearful little sobs, the kind that leaves your whole body trembling. Leon’s cries are more subdued, his shoulders twitching as small huffs leave his lips, tears escaping from his shut eyes. 

He tries to remember what happened between leaving the bar last night and waking up to this. He can see bits and pieces, stills of his dark drunken escapade, but can’t see the full picture. A flash of ripping her clothes, scattering the ratty remnants on the floor. He remembers her pained face as he thrust into her, blood coating his cock. The image of his hand gripping her throat with wanton abandon was burned into his mind. Leon felt disgust brew inside him, disgust at himself. He had gotten blackout drunk more times than he could count, however, it normally ended in him passing out in the bathroom of the bar or getting into a fistfight in the alley. Never before had he thought he was capable of such atrocities. He was a monster through and through. 

Like a child seeking comfort, Leon leans closer to the girl, resting his head on her chest as he cries. His arms wrap around her torso as he clings to her like a koala bear clinging to its mother. It’s pathetic really, but the sound of her heartbeat soothes him, and despite the hell he must have put her through last night she still smells good. A hint of her perfume lingered on her skin along with her sweet musky scent. Eventually, his cries subdued as Leon lay curled into the girl. He hadn’t even noticed she had stopped crying as well, a sad almost remorseful look on her face. 

Leon knows the right thing to do would be to let her go, either hope she stays true to her word or face the consequences of his actions. Maybe deep down he’s scared of facing those consequences, he wouldn’t receive a trial, jail time and community service weren’t an option for him. No, he’d be put down like old yeller. It’s been an invisible threat hanging over his head since 1998. Obey or die. He knew too much and had seen too much, to ever be considered a normal citizen again. If he let this girl go, he might as well put a bullet in his brain now.

He had fantasized about killing himself for quite some time now. The ultimate choice of free will, the only way he could think of to rebel against his masters. He could pull the trigger and be free of it all. The only reason he hadn’t after Racoon City was because of Sherry. She had been a child, alone and a prisoner like him. It would have been cruel to leave her by herself. But Sherry was all grown up now, an agent like himself. She was a good kid who didn’t need him anymore. 

It would be so easy to be free of this all. He’s got a loaded Ruger in his nightstand, and he hears it's a fast escape. A bang, a second of pain and he’d be a free man. Uncuff the girl, and let her run home to lick her wounds while he atones for his crime.

The selfless thing to do would be to let this girl go and accept his fate. However, as he snuggled up into her bare chest, Leon had a dark thought flicker through his mind. He was tired of being selfless, always putting others before himself. No, he deserved this. It was a disgusting thought he knew, but part of him felt as though he was owed a sliver of comfort. She could be that warmth he so desperately craved. A new reason to keep on going.  

“I can’t let you go” he whispers against her skin, his arms tightening around her. “Won’t hurt you though, don’t worry” he assured her. The girl tensed underneath him, eyeing him warily as though she didn’t believe him. Why should she? After all, he was the one who had gotten blackout drunk and assaulted her. 

He hesitates before pressing a kiss to her collarbone, a quick gentle peck, a crumb of condolence and affection. She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at him with sorrowful eyes. 

“I’m not a bad guy” he whispers, mostly to himself as he settles back down in the valley of her breasts. 

“I know” she whispers back, letting her head rest against the headboard. Leon feels a tear roll down his cheek. He had been content with destroying himself, never had he thought his dream of self-destruction would involve dragging someone else into his nightmare.

Note: Holy shit dude I finally posted it! Shout out to my friends for bullying me into finally posting, literally so nervous imma puke <<33

[dnpanimationstudioclone]

My Angel Dust inspo-board.

Seeing @quackerzzz character inspo boards inspired me to make some of my own to help give y’all a good idea of my gang/what they’re like! U can probably guess who most of these guys are, if not let me know in comments & I can answer!

Personality notes: Funny, wisecracking, jokester, sarcastic, sensual, charismatic, smooth-talking, chatty, social butterfly, clever, gets in over his head, stylish, flirty, wild, sass/comeback-master, laid back, occasionally unmotivated, occasionally immature, occasionally in denial about things, bit of a diva(most of the time jokingly), flamboyant, hedonistic, dramatic, reckless, vain, proud, self-destructive, cares more than he likes to admit, likes to put on a good face, seem in control & “ok”, secretly much more insecure & vulnerable than he lets on.

Description(work in progress) Angel Dust Not only famous for being one of the”Hell’s sexiest sinners” through his mature entertainment but also becoming the hotel’s first client for the skeptical redemption program To most Angel Dust is a chill laid back arachnid, putting up a font of a charismatic playboy who’s living his best….but actually dealing juggling between two worst scenarios of being treated and portrayed as just a pretty face and body for his boss and all of hell to enjoy…and hiding from a past and self that continues to haunt him and lead him to self destruct with drugs and other reckless hedonism(be it his own or others) Eventually he comes to find a self of him he likes in the hotel and learns to come to terms with not just his past self and regrets but his current afterlife, finally finding himself a life he feels is worth…living for.Originally coming because his boss wanted someone else to keep an eye on him and “tone down” his brand intake(drugs) along with wanting a lil more space/independence, Angel has come to enjoy his stay at the hotel and all the wacky shenanigans that come with it, making him truly believe he can find something better….that he can be better.

Like Pilot in terms of wisecrack and sass but at the same time, usually goes with the flow of Charlie and the hotel shenanigans, suave, cool, usually having a joke or flirty comment to reply! Think TFP Knockout vibes But underneath all the wisecracks and suaveness, lies a sensitive soul that just wants to feel…like himself. His true self. 💖 a self he can truly love and accept himself and ride or die for those who manage to break through his walls and show they def do atleast💖

What do u think? How would u like to imagine Angel or the others like? I’d love to know💖

[zapreportsblog]

In Love With The Same Cat

➥ summary : There’s no Spider-Man without the Black Cat just like there’s no Black Cat without Spider-Man. But what if we had a multiverse dimensional traveling jewelry stealing burglar Black Cat (try saying that seven times fast aye) that traveled across dimensions not only stealing the worlds finest jewels but also the hearts of four unlucky, or lucky depending on how you see it Spider-Man’s and Spider-Women’s hearts.

➥ 3: Seeking Redemption, Not Revenge

Months of tireless training in martial arts and acrobatics had transformed (y/n) into a formidable force to be reckoned with. She had honed her skills and mastered her body, mentally preparing herself for a confrontation that would serve as the ultimate test of her newfound strength.

As (y/n) delved deeper into her mission, her initial mindset of seeking revenge began to shift. Revenge, she realized, was a dark path that could consume her soul and perpetuate a cycle of violence. Instead, she resolved to use this confrontation to reclaim her power and seek a form of redemption for the pain inflicted upon her.

After tirelessly scouring the city, (y/n) finally found a lead that would point her in the direction of Blake, the college guy who had assaulted her that fateful night. It was a trail speckled with danger, but she was no stranger to adversity. With her heart pounding and her determination unwavering, she embarked on this treacherous journey, armed not only with physical prowess but also the strength of her spirit.

When she finally located Blake, (y/n) discovered a man plagued by demons of his own, existing in a world of self-destruction and regret. It was a sobering sight, one that stirred empathy within her. As anger simmered within her veins, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of sorrow for what he had become.

Drawing deep from the well of her newfound strength, she stepped out of the shadows to confront her assaulter. Blake's eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, time stood still. In that charged silence, (y/n) measured his every move, her training guiding her like an invisible hand.

But instead of lashing out with a fury fueled by revenge, (y/n) chose a different path. She embraced forgiveness, recognizing that it was not weakness, but rather a testament to her own strength.

She looked into Blake's eyes and spoke words that echoed with both pain and resilience. "I refuse to let your actions consume me any longer. I've come here not to take your life, but to claim back mine." Her voice trembled, yet carried an inescapable conviction.

Tears streamed down Blake's face as he finally comprehended the gravity of his actions. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, to find redemption for the pain he had caused. But (y/n) knew that the burden he carried was his alone to bear.

With her head held high, (y/n) turned away from Blake, leaving him in the haunted labyrinth of his own remorse. Redemption, she realized, was a personal journey that required an individual to face their demons, seek amends, and make peace with their past—a journey in which she had no power to escort him.

As (y/n) walked away, she could feel the weight of her past beginning to lift. She wasn't just a survivor anymore; she was a warrior who had triumphed over darkness. The scars on her body were now a testament to her strength, resilience, and reclamation of her identity.

From that point forward, (y/n) dedicated herself to helping others navigate the complex path of healing after trauma. She became an advocate, breaking the cycle of sexual assault, and transforming her pain into a catalyst for change.

In the wake of that confrontation, (y/n) found peace within herself—a peace crafted from the shards of her shattered innocence. She understood that revenge would only breed more anguish, but by choosing forgiveness and reclaiming her power, she had transcended the confines of victimhood.

In the annals of (y/n)'s journey, Chapter 3 marked a significant turning point. It was a chapter that showcased not only her physical growth but, more importantly, her emotional evolution. She learned that true strength resided in rising above the urge for revenge, embracing forgiveness, and forging a new path filled with healing, understanding, and compassion.

[clonerightsagenda]

HDM 3 & 4!

Episode 3:

me watching Mrs. Coulter ransack a university library while demanding "find me something heretical or illegal" wow haha it's just like being at work

"tired old men talking about tired old things" How much of breaking Jordan's scholastic sanctuary is revenge for the fact that they won't let women like her in? If you can't beat them, tear them down.

Tony's mumbled excuses about how he found Lyra are so on point for 'kid who does not want his mom finding out about his vigilante justice escapades'

Loving the running gag of Boreal going to our world and finding his car ticketed/booted. He doesn't even know what the boot is

Oh wow, we're getting our first look at Will now? As well as backstory on why his family is getting harassed, and we dropped the bomb of John Parry = Grumman already, even though that's a late book 2 reveal. Interesting choice. My guess would be that they want to spend less time in season 2 on stringing that mystery along and more on developing Will and Lyra's dynamic, since they shift into bffsies mode pretty abruptly.

Mrs. Coulter thinking about falling off high places again... I don't recall the implication of this self-destructive impulse in the books (haven't reread the third yet) but this is certainly setting up her death, huh? Whose idea was it, I don't remember....

Also, her calling Benjamin "boy" multiple times even though he's clearly a grown man - does that have the same racist implications in the UK as it does in America? It certainly shocked me. We hadn't really seen a racial undertone in how she's dealt with Boreal, the Master, or the reporter...

Episode 4

Of course they added Lee singing a song lol. If you paid all the money for LMM...

They took away Farder Coram's disability? He's older, sure, but seems perfectly hale and hearty. I'd make a joke about Lyra just thinking someone is tragically disabled due to being 60+ but the books say his health got wrecked after getting hit by a poison arrow. There is that other gyptian with the limb differences, I suppose.

Iorek is pronounced Yorick??? Oh wow I've been doing Eye-or-eck (like neck) for years.

I can't identify the accent Iorek has, but I'd be curious as to what accent the showrunners decided bears should have. I'd assume something Northern European since we're in Fantasy Scandinavia.

Mrs. Coulter has been violent toward her daemon a few times, which I also don't recall from the books, although it comes up with that one guy in the prequels. It emphasizes her internal conflict that they're setting up super hard.

Lee's far more comic relief in the show, and they've padded out the Iorek armor quest quite a bit. Guess they decided they needed to get their money's worth out of having Lin Manuel Miranda around before he dies and gets eaten.

They didn't make Serafina's daemon a goose??? Slander!!!

Lord Boreal homophobia moment... These have been the Bigotry Episodes

So I get why they have Lyra speak up to convince the gyptians in the previous episode and take the initiative re: Lee and Iorek - it makes the MC a more active rather than reactive protagonist, etc. - but I said while liveblogging the books that I appreciated the gyptians clearly have their own plans and aren't just convenient brown people who exist to ferry the protag on her journey, and this undercuts it a little bit. Also being a kid getting helplessly buffeted around by the machinations of adults is part of what Lyra has to deal with.

I'm still reading it as Eye-or-eck in my head as I type this. Sorry. It's too late for me.

[cassynite]

Look guys! I can still write!

Done for Owlcatober's prompts 4: Luck and 22: Nobility. Have some very early Sparrow and Daeran interactions :)

--

Sparrow had been very lucky, all things considered. Lucky to have found an artificer who might help with the problem prickling at the base of her neck. Lucky that he was willing to meet with her, to undo a Cheliaxian tracking brand for the right price. Lucky to have survived whatever attack had given her the ever-bleeding wound on her chest, as well as the demonic attack that tore the city in two afterwards.

She's no believer in fate, but luck is chance, a die cast to fall on the six. Though it's random, the patterns in the chaos can be a comfort, even if the comfort is a lie. Sparrow is used to hoarding the moments of good luck she receives, counting them out like coins and budgeting them the same way, stretching out the hope they offer as far as it can go. The string of good events can give her the strength to push on past the bad ones--that she is trapped in a burning city under demonic siege to begin with, that the man who had offered her salvation is very likely dead.

All streaks of luck must come to an end, however, the pattern returning to random chance once more. And Sparrow finds the end of hers in a broken banquet hall, staring at the one man who might destroy the last remnants of her plans to escape with just a few simple words.

In retrospect, Sparrow should have anticipated the complication. When the liveried footman who had begged for the help of her and her companions mentioned the surname "Arendae," Sparrow had recognized it from the snatches of conversation she regularly overheard during her mandatory appearance at Mendevian court functions. Old family, old blood, royally inclined, marked in tragedy.

But the Count Arendae, known for his raucous parties and and his disregard for social norms, lived in Kenabres, and his time in Nerosyan was filled with events Sparrow rarely attended. They'd crossed paths, but briefly, and the incidents were of so little note Sparrow barely remembered them.

However, after the demons are left bleeding on the floor of a party that had been going well into the destruction of the city, the glittering aasimar who had fought instead of cowered steps forward with a cold green gaze that focuses on her immediately out of the group, and Sparrow realizes that she had miscalculated. She might have only barely remembered him, but he somehow remembered her as well, and recognizes who she is.

The count gives an elaborate bow. "Greetings, valiant stranger who has just burst into my life. I am master of this house, Count Daeran Kael 'Myriad-Mellifluous-Monikers' Arendae. No need to introduce yourself--"

I already recall the last time we met in Nerosyan, Lady Evaethi, Sparrow hears, and steps forward before the count can finish his sentence. "I am called Sparrow." The words come out a little too forceful.

The count raises a single golden brow, amused and condescending all at once. "--As I was saying, I find insignificant details such as the names of passing acquaintances a bore." He gives her a mocking smile and says nothing else about the matter, not even as the rest of her companions begin to make comments. It doesn't ease the tension ready to break Sparrow's spine; she's on the knife's edge of this conversation, and the count can turn the blade whenever he likes. He knows it, too, judging by the looks he gives her as he trades insults with Lann about his curtains.

"Now that we're finished with the niceties," the count finally says, "tell me--how did all these thrice-damned demons end up at my soiree?"

There is a pause where someone needs to answer, and doesn't. Sparrow can feel the others' gazes on her, crawling on her skin--she'll never get used to this, the way that the people she fights with cede the space to her to answer the questions, take charge. She never asked for it, did less than nothing to imply she wanted it or was qualified for the role, and yet the righteous paladin, the savvy hunter, the sharp-tongued noble, they all look to her to be their leader.

When she answers, her words are stilted and blunt. "Demons attacked the city. Kenabres is in ruins." There's a murmur of shock, not from the count but from the other party attendants. Sparrow had almost forgotten they were there.

"I wanted to ask if you were joking, but what little expression you have tells me you are not." He turns his attention to the curtains he had just been inviting Lann to blow his nose on, seeing the telltale flicking light of raging fire through the gaps in the velvet.

The conversation turns away from Sparrow, letting her step back as her companions trade verbal blows with the count--Seelah in half-amused disapproval at the count's callous lack of regard for the situation at hand, Camellia making unsubtle hints to the count's terrible childhood losses as if it were ever an appropriate thing to bring up, and Ember successfully disarming the count's barbed tongue if only for a second by her genuine distress at the thought that the count could not have a lamb as a pet.

The entire time, though, she feels the count's attention never truly leave her. Paranoia, perhaps, but he knows, he has to be asking questions about how and why, and even if he isn't questioning her identity now in front of her companions, that doesn't mean he won't. He could just be waiting for the right moment, the perfect time to strike--Sparrow's impression of him in Nerosyan had been vague, but his defining feature had been his propensity for cruelty as entertainment.

She wanted away from the count and his malice as quickly as possible, so she finally gathers the courage to step forward, addressing the room at large. "The Defender's Heart has been fortified under the Eagle Watch. It should be safe."

The other drunken nobles and poor servants at this revel take Sparrow's flat statement as the call to action it's meant to be, gathering in groups and approaching Seelah, who is more than happy to provide help and instructions on safe passages to the tavern. But the count doesn't turn his attention from Sparrow.

"I thank you dearly for the invitation," he gives another mocking bow, "but I am not quite as desperate as I may seem. In fact, I do feel like stretching my legs. I know rudimentary divine spells, I am no friend to demons, and I elevate any society that I deign to grace with my presence. I shall accompany you--only for a short time, of course. I have no desire to remain at the vanguard for a protracted period. What say you, my ephemeral but highly diverting acquaintance? After all, Lord Deskari spoiled my party. I now burn with the desire to spoil his."

Highly diverting acquaintance. He's laughing under the thick coat of false sincerity. She wants to tell him no, but she can't afford to. The city is burning to ash around them, and no matter the count's true intentions, she saw what he did to the demons in that fight. They need all the help they can get.

She gives a small, shallow nod, half-hoping the count doesn't see her acquiesce.

Of course, he does. "Capital. Good acquaintances that begin and end at just the right moment often leave the most pleasant memories, wouldn't you say?"

Sparrow ruminates on his words for a long time after, as they continue to claw their way through the demons in the Market Square and try to collect information and allies for the assault on the Gray Garrison. Did he mean to imply that their 'acquaintanceship' beginning at that moment meant he would not bring up her past? Or was it a veiled threat of some kind, the mention of memories an indication that he remembers her and will bring it up if she crosses him? She wouldn't even need to cross him, really; the count is notorious for destroying livelihoods and reputations out of boredom.

By the time the crew returns to the Defender's Heart for a much-needed rest and restocking, Sparrow decided to confront him about it. She hates the thought of it, but it needs dragged out in the open. Regardless of how it resolves, she will at least know where she stands, what to anticipate from him. She cannot continue with him as an unknown factor.

She finds the count near the sleeping quarters Irabeth insisted Sparrow still use, somehow having managed to snag one of the nicest chairs in the place. He's quiet, watching the survivors trying to create order out of the chaos of their situation: groups of injured and war-shocked civilians resting in clumps across the floor or consulting with a haggard Vissaliy and his assistant; the Eagle Watch and other soldiers discussing plans with shadowed gazes, or bartering with Gemyl for ale to drown the world out with; Irabeth grimly going over the assault plan with Anevia on the other side of the room; the Storyteller, still recovering from his burns, resting nearby; the rest of their companions, talking or preparing or simply sleeping. The count's expression is blank, and Sparrow wonders what he's thinking of, what story he is making out of the disorder.

Then his attention catches on her approach, and his eyes hood in disdain, a familiar mocking smirk spreading across his face. It's strange, the abruptness of it; Sparrow is reminded of a performer stepping out from the shadows into the spotlight of a stage.

"I must commend the crusade's choice on an outpost," he comments as Sparrow nears. "The very sight of these walls brings back such fond memories of drinks and revels."

Sparrow stops, the rehearsed opener she'd planned to drag out his intentions disappearing in an instant. "...I don't believe they had a choice," she says, wrong-footed. "It was the best available option at the time."

"So you plan on migrating all and sundry if a better symbol of shelter comes along then? A nice Iomadean cathedral would do nicely, I imagine. Though if I were a demon I would burn those down first."

Sparrow opens her mouth, then closes it. Finally, she says, "It wouldn't be up to me either way."

"Would it not? I'd taken from this endeavor that you're the banner these stalwart defenders are rallying behind, what with that angelic sword you can pull out. Where does it go, anyway, when you aren't talking down fanatical zealots from murdering supposed traitors?"

Sparrow looks away. She doesn't know--she doesn't know why she's able to wield a sword meant to burn mortals, or where it goes when it's not there other than in reach when she needs it. She doesn't know why the scar on her chest still bleeds, throbbing in pain, or what anyone in this tavern sees in her that makes them think she can appropriately lead anything. It's a yawning chasm of uncertainty she's been doing her best to ignore up until this point. She has no answers and no solutions, so there's no point in tackling it. At least, not until the immediate threat has been taken care of.

If the count expected an actual answer from her, he mercifully doesn't act like it. Resting his cheek in one long-fingered hand, he regards her with a catlike slyness, like he's silently laughing at a joke. "I shall admit, I did not quite expect to see you favor a celestially gifted weapon. Forgive me if I am incorrect in my understanding of your culture, but you prefer more...infernal sources of power, do you not?"

Sparrow lets the barb fly by painlessly; his misplaced insult is as good an opening as any. "About that. I would be grateful if you did not mention my...past...in front of others."

"But my lady, how could I deny a woman of such fine breeding as yourself the respect you deserve?" His smirk grows wider at whatever he sees on Sparrow's face. "To find the mouse of Nerosyan among these ruins was quite the surprise, and with such a different title than before--I would gently suggest changing your name, if you are open to constructive criticism. It's embarrassing to me to think that you picked such a moniker of your own free will."

Sparrow's hands find each other, fingers interlocking tightly together. "I have left that life behind me. What would you want to do the same?"

"Are you trying to bribe me?" The count barks out a delighted laugh. "This is straight out of some paltry penny novel--what are you even planning to offer? Money?" He laughs again, like that's the funniest thing in the world. "Or, what, your virtue or some other such nonsense?"

Sparrow stares until the laughter dies down, the mirth draining from the count's features. Finally, he scoffs and turns away from her silence.

"You really are the most tedious woman alive, aren't you," he mutters. "Let me be blunt: I could not care less what shade of youthful rebellion has led you to renouncing your identity and playacting a pauper. If you wish to be named after a bird, I will not stop you--go forth and chirp as you wish."

"You would swear to that?" Sparrow presses, and immediately regrets it. The emotion that flickers across the count's face is cold and snakelike, and it takes all of Sparrow's willpower not to rear back.

"I would not force some kind of oath from me, if I were you." The count's smile is poisonous. "I would feel the urge to break it out of spite. You will simply have to take my word, as-is, that whatever little mess you are wading through is not consequential enough for me to bother with during the brief acquaintanceship we must endure. Now, do you have anything of actual interest to say, or is this topic finished? I'm sure there are far more entertaining subjects to actually speak of."

At Sparrow's silence, the count continues on, though his gaze remains glass-sharp and watchful. "Perhaps you would like to hear of some of my own youthful exploits then? Those always do well among the highborn sort--not that you'd know anything about that, as I understand it."

When Sparrow finally escapes the conversation some time later, she is certain that Count Daeran Arendae is a cruel, childish, and capricious man, but that he was almost certainly honest when he told her he didn't care about her secrets--he is far too self-absorbed to give a whit about anything that doesn't directly concern him.

It seems that Sparrow's luck has held out after all.

[oneatlatime]

The Fortuneteller

(A title which I am itching to divide into three words instead of two because boy does 'Fortuneteller' look stupid - seriously, stare at it for a bit and see how fast it starts looking like Fortun Eteller)

The last couple of episodes have had a contemplative character, so I'm rooting for this one to be a silly one. Also more Sokka please. Poor guy gets demoted to one liners in the B-plot whenever Aang is the main focus.

Episode Time!

We start this episode off with a potential love interest for Sokka.

I had completely forgotten that Katara used to have a necklace. I'd also completely forgotten that she'd lost it. When did she lose it?

Aang-o-vision has a pretty heavy rose-tinted filter - literally.

Told you it was a love interest.

The NOISE Sokka makes when the fish slaps him! I love it. Hang on I'm going to rewind and listen to it again.

Yep. Still as good the second time.

Oh wow! Aang just got Momo-zoned. Gotta say I'm not a fan of a romantic relationship between Aang and Katara at this point, so I'm all for some Momo-zonage.

Platypus bear! Finally some hybrid animals. I was beginning to wonder if that would ever come back.

Is this guy a martial arts master or an idiot?

I'm leaning towards idiot.

Friendly reminder of Appa's size. That's a lot of molars. No canines or incisors? Guess he's an obligate herbivore.

Is sniffing eggs something that people do? I get sniffing melons or other produce, but eggs?

Yep. Floppy hat guy is an idiot.

Aang buddy you might want to get that checked out.

And with a mighty squelch, the egg fulfills this episode's Beat Up Sokka quota.

Appa shakes!

Those are weird ducks.

I don't know a thing about anime, but that's the most anime-looking guy I've seen in this show. Is this show an anime?

Meng-o-vision is red-tinted. Probably doesn't bode well.

Also, Meng could give Zuko some lessons on how to style Pipi longstocking hair. Someone with more photoshop skills than me needs to make a Zuko with Meng hair.

"Don't be modest, they're huge!" Presented without comment. I'm not going to say a thing. But we all thought it.

Katara is totally the kind of girl who would fall for fortune telling. We've seen (multiple times) that she is gullible. Actually, now that I think about it, we've had multiple episodes where Katara gets swept up in something a healthy dose of skepticism would have guarded her from - Jet and The Great Divide come to mind. The writers are really hammering the 'Katara is susceptible to romantic nonsense and Sokka is a science-minded skeptic' message home. Is this going to play some bigger part in the show going forward? Why else would we be on version number (arguably) 3 of this same plot?

Aang and Sokka took off their shoes, but Katara didn't. Huh.

Pinky out. Classy.

I am not digging the Aang x Katara stuff in this episode. I'm with Sokka on this one - let's pretend it was a stellar bathroom break.

Aunt Wu is being unnecessarily antagonistic to Sokka. First he gets an egg on his head, then Momo steals his bean puffs, now Aunt Wu tells him his life's going to suck. I should have been more specific when I hoped for a Sokka episode. I didn't mean a beat up Sokka episode.

Aang. Priorities honey. Honestly, Aang casually dismissing his destiny after all that build up did get a laugh out of me.

A god-like figure coming to have his fortune read and only wanting to know about his love life would give me a headache too.

Add malicious signage to the Beating Up Sokka list.

"The fluffy bunny cloud forecasts doom and destruction." I bet that's the first time that sentence has appeared in the English language.

These people are stupid. Blazing Saddles style 'common clay of the New West' stupid. It would take, what, a day? to run a visual check on the volcano. But nope. Too much work. Listen to me I'm morphing into Sokka.

Katara giving off some serious fangirl vibes.

Katara is officially addicted to fortune telling.

Live footage of me watching these village idiots.

Add duck to the list of Things Which Assault Sokka. Gotta love those duck noises though.

Sokka is getting dangerously close to advising negging here. Also Meng deserves better. Her poor pigtails droop in disappointment. Girl has sentient hair - she deserves better.

Papaya? When you don't like papaya? Just because some old lady said so? Too far. That's not even teenage nonsense; that's tweenage nonsense. I kind of feel like sending Katara to her room. Actually it's just like that one line Log Man said in the Jet episode. Something like 'He tells us what to do and how to think and things all turn out right.' Outsourcing your decision-making. Which, by the way, is both nonsense and cult-like. Then again, the lost boys freedom fighters pretty much worshipped Jet the way this village worships Aunt Wu, so... parallels?

So if this guy got the panda lily himself, doesn't that mean that he recently went up the mountain? Couldn't he have had a peak inside while he was up there? Would have taken an extra 20 seconds.

"Flowers are fine once you're married" Somebody get this boy to Victorian times. If he ever sees an ankle he'll self-combust.

You have a flying bison. Why don't you fly up instead of climb?

This is totally live action fire copy-pasted in to the animation. There has got to be a more technical term for that than copy-pasted.

Raise your hand if you saw the twist with the volcano coming. (I did I swear. Blue spirit was an outlier).

Forget Appa, why didn't Aang just fly up?

"They just won't listen to reason." "But they will listen to Aunt Wu." So the mountain comes to Mohammed. I guess talking to people in a way they understand / will listen to is a good lesson for an avatar to learn. I thought he'd learned that one in The Great Divide though. Either way this episode is getting increasingly frustrating.

Can Meng get a hug? She seems astonishingly self-aware and emotionally mature for a kid. Also way too smart for this podunk town. I may rescind the hug in light of the stalking.

Well, it's not exactly subtle, but at least volcanic doom isn't a fluffy bunny.

Look at those yummy purples. Finally an episode where it's light enough to have a beautiful sky. My collection of wallpapers was suffering.

Digging a lava trench might work, if the volcano is going to put out a gallon or two of lava. This must be a baby volcano.

Nevermind.

The ashes effect feels oddly 3-D.

I guess to an avatar this kind of challenge is small potatoes.

Totally ignoring the Aang x Katara stuff for a minute, I'm with Sokka on this one too, because I also had forgotten that Aang is a superbender. He didn't even need to go glowy.

If I lived in this village that redesign would absolutely give me nightmares. Are those mega claws of doom structurally sound?

I am going to punch this man.

Aunt Wu's final speech to Aang makes me think that at least she's not indulging in her own product as it were. I suppose a con artist (whose services are free, so, just jerking around a village for shits and giggles?) is better than an actual believer?

MENG!!!

Final Thoughts

This episode has me thinking about stories. Part of the reason Katara wants to believe in nonsense like fortune telling is because she is someone inclined to listen to / believe in stories. I think the opening monologue of the first episode mentioned something about her grandmother's stories. Katara was raised on stories and very much took them to heart as more than just entertainment. And you can't blame her for believing the conceits of stories could be possible in their world, not after the events of episode one dumped the star of those stories in her lap. Just so long as she doesn't confuse a belief in stories with a belief in happy endings. There is a war going on in their world, and judging by the stuff that the show did not shy away from discussing or implying in episodes like The Southern Air Temple and The Storm, I am willing to bet good money that there will be a couple of unhappy endings ahead. Not permanently unhappy; this is a kids' cartoon. But there will probably be setbacks and disappointments.

Would Katara have astrology nonsense in her dating profile?

"The fluffy bunny cloud forecasts doom and destruction" is going to be incorporated into my daily vocabulary.

Platypus + bear are interesting choices for a hybrid animal, since a platypus is about 15 normal animals smashed together anyway. A platypus bear is the swiss army knife of animals. Or the Mr. Potato Head.

At first I thought that Aunt Wu was a benevolent meddler (see putting together the couple with the panda lily), but she also advised that one guy to never bathe, which doesn't benefit anyone in any way that I can see. So I've concluded that she's a Bumi level ("it's pretty fun messing with people") shit-stirrer instead. Her services may be free, but she manages to pay for a very big house, an assistant in Meng, and anime guy the bodyguard(?) so I guess grateful villagers give her donations? However she's doing it, she's got it made.

There was some sort of running theme with those large blue-billed ducks that lived in the village. If that was meant to have more meaning than just a running visual gag, I didn't pick up on it.

Meng had a surprising amount of depth and insight for what (I assume) is a one-episode character. Stalking aside, I liked her.

This episode's humourous look at the stupidity of the village (in fact the science denial of the village) is not as funny as it would have been in a pre-covid denial, pre-antivax, pre-"global warming is a hoax" world. A shallow viewing of this episode is still funny because the villagers are just SO dumb (except Meng), but the more you think about the villagers' actions and the conclusions they reach at the end of the episode (to not change AT ALL - at least the tribes made up in The Great Divide, a similarly idiot-filled episode), the more you morph into Sokka. These people have denied reality so hard that it's frustrating rather than funny to watch. Their head in the sand approach is not cute anymore.

I really wanted to like this episode. Like I said before, I wanted a goofy fun episode after the one-two punch of the last two episodes, but this one rapidly went from goofy to frustrating. I can't tell if it's because I'm not the target audience (i.e. too adult) or if it's because much of the world is currently drowning in various forms of misinformation and science denial. I know this episode isn't supposed to be deep - it's supposed to be setup for Aang & Katara as a (hopefully very distant) couple. That's all. And the message at the end about shaping your own destiny (i.e. taking an active part in your life) is a good message, and thematically relevant to the avatar, who presumably is at least somewhat responsible for shaping the whole world's destiny. But damn if this episode doesn't make my teeth itch.

Pros: Sokka had some great lines. Appa got to shake. There were pretty backgrounds. The noise Sokka made when he got slapped by the fish was a thing of beauty.

Cons: Aang and Katara are not allowed to date until they're 35. I will smack each villager individually upside the head with a science textbook. Meng deserved better.

Maybe I'm just not in the mood for this episode. I'll stick it on the rewatch list just for the Sokka fish noise.

[ebooklibrary]

Addicted Series by Krista Richie

Genre: Romance, Contemporary, Fiction

Addicted To You

She’s addicted to sex. He’s addicted to booze…the only way out is rock bottom.

No one would suspect shy Lily Calloway’s biggest secret. While everyone is dancing at college bars, Lily stays in the bathroom. To get laid. Her compulsion leads her to one-night stands, steamy hookups and events she shamefully regrets. The only person who knows her secret happens to have one of his own.

Loren Hale’s best friend is his bottle of bourbon. Lily comes at a close second. For three years, they’ve pretended to be in a real relationship, hiding their addictions from their families. They’ve mastered the art of concealing flasks and random guys that filter in and out of their apartment.

But as they sink beneath the weight of their addictions, they cling harder to their destructive relationship and wonder if a life together, for real, is better than a lie. Strangers and family begin to infiltrate their guarded lives, and with new challenges, they realize they may not just be addicted to alcohol and sex.

Their real vice may be each other.

Ricochet

As a sex addict, Lily Calloway must do the impossible. Stay celibate for 90 days.

Cravings and fantasies become her new routine, but while Loren Hale recovers from his alcohol addiction, Lily wonders if he’ll realize what a monster she really is. After all, her sexual compulsions begin to rule her life the longer she stays faithful to him.

Progress. That’s what Lily’s striving for. But by trying to become closer to her family—people who aren’t aware of her addiction—she creates larger obstacles. When she spends time with her youngest sister, she learns more about her than she ever imagined and senses an unsettling connection between Daisy and Ryke Meadows.

With Lily and Lo’s dysfunctional relationship teetering and unbalanced, they will need to find a way to reconnect from miles apart. But the inability to “touch” proves to be one of the hardest tests on their road to recovery. Some love brushes the surface. Some love is deeper than skin.

Lily and Lo have three months to discover just how deep their love really goes.

Addicted For Now

He's addicted to booze. She's addicted to sex...staying sober is only half the battle.

No. More. Sex.

Those are the three words Lily Calloway fears the most. But Loren Hale is determined to be with Lily without enabling her dangerous compulsions. With their new living situation—sleeping in the same bed, for real, together—Lily has new battles. Like not jumping Lo’s bones every night. Not being consumed by sex and his body.

Loren plans to stay sober, to right all of his wrongs. So when someone threatens to expose Lily’s secret to her family and the public, he promises that he’ll do anything to protect her. But with old enemies surfacing, Lo has more at stake than his sobriety.

They will torment Lily until Lo breaks.

And his worst fear isn’t relapsing. He hears the end. He sees it. The one thing that could change everything. Just three words.

No. More. Us.

Thrive

Two years will change them forever.

When rumors spread like wildfire—like having three-ways with her boyfriend’s rock climbing brother—Lily Calloway spirals into a dark place. Her bedroom. Loren Hale is more confident and determined to keep their sex life private, even from their friends, and he helps Lily in the only way he knows how. But how much love is too much?

Their lives are filmed, watched, and criticized. And through it all, Lily and Loren have to face enemies they never thought they’d see, demons they don’t know if they should bury, and setbacks they didn’t think they’d meet. Not this soon.

And one rumor could be too much for them to handle. It will test their greatest limitations, and if they don’t hold onto each other, someone is going to drown.

Addicted After All

Two addicts. One epic love story.

Prepare for the worst.

That’s what Lily and Lo try to do when Jonathan Hale schedules an “important” meeting. The problem: after being swept into the public eye and battling their addictions, they’re not sure what the worst is anymore.

In a sea of many changes—including Ryke & Daisy living with them—Lily realizes that the best part of her fluctuating hormones might just be the worst.

Her sex drive is out of control.

Loren knows that she’s insatiable, but he’s not giving up on her. She’s too much a part of him. And as he carries more and more responsibility, some of the people that he loves doubt his resolve.

In the conclusion to their love story, Lily & Lo stand side-by-side to fight, one last time, for their happily ever after.

EPUB link

[maximuswolf]

I just want to give context to why 343i becoming Halo studios seems to be such a big story going on.

I just want to give context to why 343i becoming Halo studios seems to be such a big story going on. Long story short, for those who don't know, 343i the previous devs of Halo were quite possibly the worst group of people assembled to make Halo games. They literally bragged about how much their employees hated the past games that brought the franchise to it's peak and were confused when players got upset that Master Chief had very little screen time in Halo 5 saying that they never considered Master Chief important or the main character of Halo. These all sound like a joke but trust me, those are true, they even named their company after one of the villains and infamous backstabbers from the games. I don't get it but here's the list of the sins.The List of Sins goes as Such: 343i was well known for flat out lying about game features, having extremely brutal micro-transactions, chasing literally every trend expect for Battle Royale, having a weird focus on mobility and faster paced combat, removed core features replacing them with systems not even a fraction as fun, totally removing a playable race from Halo's 2, 3 and Reach, revamping the iconic art style, undoing previous events of the universe rewriting events from past games making their stories irrelevant, a weird drive on giving focus to hated characters, just flat out poor characters, killing off many characters seemingly at random such as the main character of Halo 3 ODST, making lore breaking events happen just because they want X character in Y location, stealing a faction from another dev company that worked on the universe and canning their sequel then ruining the faction that company made, creating a character that fundamentally destroys the Covenant's religion but doing nothing to address their existence and making an extremely massive retcon to the universe that is so mind numbingly stupid that it actually validates the Covenant's 30 year war of destruction against humanity in the series.So yeah there's alot and this is me being rather generous because I didn't speak on how they've promoted extremely hated people by the Halo community, whatever the fuck that TV show was and how they threw all the blame of a failed Halo title at a smaller company. 343i on every level was just a nightmare of a dev company where literally every former member of the company does nothing but shit talk them. I don't want to throw his name out there but there was a previous member of the company who left shortly after Halo 5 released to start his own company and shortly after leaving made a video with his new crew basically shitting on 343i. It was wild.So the dream is simple, the death/rebranding of 343i is the final acknowledgement that shit was wrong. 343i was one of those dev teams that would never admit fault, and someone point the finger at the community. Even the now iconic changes to the art style of Halo weren't even made by them, they were made by Creative Assembly when making Halo Wars 2, 343i just stole those designs for Halo Infinite. Again, shit dev, but the current head is the person who saved the MCC, brought it from the brink of death and was put in charge to do the same thing for the franchise. The changes to MCC were amazing though did start to lean in a weird place after it's popularity started to come back. So the hope is that, those weren't this guy's decisions but some out of touch overlord.This situation is purely based off hope, and the acknowledgement of 343i's own failures by the Halo Studios. There is nothing else behind it but the blind faith that since they've pointed out the cancer, that theycan now hopefully purge it which is why so many people seem unmoved by the change. They see it as the same company with the same problems but this is a matter of time telling. Submitted October 11, 2024 at 04:12AM by Knalxz https://ift.tt/s7oeABq via /r/gaming

[dbcjr3]

Do you ever feel like as a Christian you just don’t fit in? Congratulations! You nailed it!

Let’s read what Peter had to say about it in 1 Peter 2:11 ESV:

“Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.”

That word, translated “sojourners” is from the Greek παροίκους — paroikous — meaning foreigners

and the word “exiles”, παρεπιδήμους — parepidemous — meaning resident foreigners. The latter has three nuances:

• To live near, but not in.

• To be close, but not from.

• To be in, but not of.

Paul saw many Christians even in his day conform to the culture around them and lose who they are as citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven, Philippians‬ ‭3‬:‭18‬-‭20‬ ‭ESV‬‬:

“For many, of whom I have often told you and now tell you even with tears, walk as enemies of the cross of Christ. Their end is destruction, their god is their belly, and they glory in their shame, with minds set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ,”

Because You’re a Citizen of Heaven ...

1. You will THINK differently from this world.

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.”

‭‭Colossians‬ ‭3‬:‭1‬-‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Folks, you have to “ Set your minds on things that are above NOT on things that are on earth.” That’s OUR responsibility as Paul clearly states.

The Lord empowers us to do that but He’s not going to tamper with your free will. It has to be your choice to do the things that position you to walk “in Christ” in a progressively heathen culture.

Jesus said in Matthew 24:37, “For as were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man”

As we get closer to that day we can expect our culture to become more like Sodom and Gomorrah, and it is! But that doesn’t change who Jesus called us to be, salt in the earth and light shining in a dark place. How can we be like that if we look and act the same as they do?

But being surrounded and immersed in a heathen culture can get you feeling and thinking like a heathen unless you “set your mind” each day by praying and studying God’s Word. Go to church and small groups as regularly as possible - as if your life depended on it. Your spiritual life does!

2. You will LIVE differently from this world. And that has two aspects to it:

A) Your behavior that others see. That’s your living testimony. It needs to reflect what you say and profess to be

B) What you take in. If you feed on the culture around you all the time, the media, tv, music, movies that constantly project you into a sinful world, and their values and pseudo-ethics, you’re going to wind up thinking and feeling like the world - and then behaving like it!

We may find ourselves rooting for the bad guys to get away with robbing a bank because the screenwriter did such a masterful job of getting us to identify with the principle characters. Is that consistent with our beliefs as Christians?

Does it start us down the path of justifying our actions based upon our circumstances? But a Christian’s actions should be based upon God’s Word or we head down a slippery slope.

How many movie plots have you identifying with an adulterer, empathizing, and then rooting for them to leave their spouse and find happiness because “they don’t love them anymore”?

Is that the biblical model of love? No, so how can we believe that God still loves us when we break covenant with Him? We become trapped in our own deception.

And that, my friends, is exactly what the devil is trying to do. I’m not saying the people who make movies, television and music are consciously trying to trap us for the devil but that Jesus called satan “ the prince of this world” in John 16:11. “World” is translated from the Greek word “cosmos”, meaning the system of this world.

These producers, writers and directors are unwittingly being influenced. These brilliant people have become pawns in the devil’s schemes. So, how do we escape the influence of our culture?

Set your minds on Him each day and throughout the day.

Limit your exposure to cultural influences.

We must to some extent be in the world to be salt and light but our first priority is to remain salty and full of light!

https://youtu.be/eeH58z2q4W0?si=LVWr0wDm9EHnD3Tz

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Key to Your Heart (Part 02 of 18)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader | The Winter Soldier X Reader

Word count: 2.7K

<- Previous part (01)

Next part -> (03)

{Marvel Masterlist}

Summary: Joining the Avengers wasn't on your plans. Not until Steve asked you to help his best friend. Bucky was Bucky, but the Winter Soldier still came from time ti time, bringing with him chaos and destruction. And you was supposed to keep that side of him away... But what happens when both Bucky and the Winter Soldier start to enjoy your company more than anyone else? Should you turn your back on the Soldier, ignore his own fears and traumas? That's exactly what everyone wants. But you were never known for following orders...

A/N: Special thanks to my wonderful friend @multific for all her help through this story. I love you, girl!!

×

Company

You see Bucky in the gym when you go there after having breakfast and watching an episode of an old sitcom with Wanda. It's still pretty early, and you wonder if he has been here for too long. He's at the punching bags, and you don't want to disturb him, so after a friendly wave, you go to the treadmill and set a walking pace.

Steve said he'd be here to make some kind of introduction of his master plan to help Bucky. But after an hour, which you spend on the exercise bike scrolling through Instagram instead of working out, you decide to just talk to the man.

So you put your phone, looking for him. Bucky is not at the bags anymore, but after a quick look, you find him seated on one of the benches set near the glass wall, which gives you a view from the garden, some ships, and airplanes in the distance. He's drinking a bottle of water, and you take one for yourself from the fridge they have here before making your way over him.

“What's up, Barnes?” You ask, sitting next to him, a leg on each side of the bench as you sit sideways, facing him. “I heard the punchbag crying, you should give it a break.”

Bucky smiles a little before looking at you. “Hello, miss–”

“(Y/N).” You cut him off, pointing your bottle at him. “Call me (Y/N).”

“Call me Bucky.” He says, nodding his head. “So Steve managed to finally convince you to join the Avengers.”

“He did. But only because I was given a special mission.” Nobody intended on keeping this a secret. Bucky needs to know you care, you and Steve. “I'm here to help you.”

He furrows his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders. “Help me? How so?”

“I–”

“Tell me it's not about the other guy, (Y/N).” He moves to stand up, but you hold his arm, keeping him from going anywhere. “This is dangerous. I can't believe Steve brought you into this.”

“Steve is worried about you. And it's not like I'll... Do something. I'm just here to... Offer you my friendship and stand by you, no matter what.” Bucky sighs, shaking his head. But he sits down again, looking at the floor. “And well, I'm with the Avengers now. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Just stay away when... He... Comes out.” Bucky says in a low, sad voice.

“We intend to keep him away for good. Help you have control over it.” You say, taking a deep breath. “But now, let's not worry about it. We're all happy you're back. Actually, Steve was supposed to help me break things up with you. Have any idea where he is?”

“No. But you can ask F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He gestures at the roof. “Stark's little AI that runs this place.”

“Sure.” Muttering, looking up. “Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y. May you please inform me of the whereabouts of Captain Steve Rogers?” You ask in a fake, formal voice, feeling a little bit victorious to see a small, quick smile spreading through Bucky's lips.

“Good morning, Miss–”

“(Y/N), please. Until I choose my superhero name.” You're quick to correct him. “There's no need for formalities.”

“Captain Rogers is in a meeting with Mr. Stark at the moment.” The AI says, its voice coming from everywhere at the same time.

“A meeting about what?”

“I regret to inform you this is a classified topic, Miss (Y/N).”

Pinching your eyebrows together, you stare at Bucky. “Well, I'm an Avenger now, am I not? I think it's alright for you to tell me.”

“We intercepted a transmission from Miami to South Africa about human trafficking. Captain Rogers and Mr. Stark will be leaving later today.” He says, and you notice a panel on the wall, with a reddish badly shaped circle moving as if it was floating on the screen.

“Okay. Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

“You're welcome.” It says, and the red circle vanishes.

“Human trafficking? I hope they beat up some ass.” Letting your hair down from the loose bun, you detangle it with your fingers. “Steve better come say goodbye to me or else he will never hear the end of it when he gets back.”

“Are you and Steve together?” Bucky asks.

You immediately make a disgusting face at his supposition. “Ew, no. Steve is like a brother to me. A relationship with him would feel incestuous.” It makes you laugh since you're not truly related. “And he's not my type anyway.”

“How did you two meet?”

You think he already knows that, but maybe he doesn't know what else to say. Steve told you how Bucky rather isolates himself, even more after an episode with the Winter Soldier. He feels guilty, and, even though the others don't blame him for something he can't control, he still feels bad. So you don't mind answering. “It was in a museum, around a year after he came out of the ice. I was at this exposition about WWII and so was he.” You smile to remember it. “He was standing next to me, looking at a wall with this picture of him among those he rescued from Hydra. Well, he was having a nostalgic moment and I was looking at my great-grandfather.”

“Your great-grandfather?” He sounds a little surprised, which makes you chuckle.

“Mhmm. He served at the 107th Infantry Regiment.” Nodding, you stand up, stepping closer to the glass wall. “He was one of those captured by Hydra, and if it wasn't for Steve, he'd be dead and I wouldn't exist.”

“I'm sure it was a hell of an ice breaker.” He giggles, a low, sweet sound to your ears.

“It sure was. He died when I was a baby, but he told my grandmother all of his stories and she told my dad. So I grew up listening to it, and when I met Steve, we bounded over it. Guess we were both lonely and it felt like finding distant kin.” Turning around, you rest your back against the glass. “I had lost both my parents in a car accident six months before, and had just moved to New York so I was getting used to it. And Steve helped a lot.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Bucky seems sad, and the last thing you want is to make him sad.

“Yeah. C'est la vie.”

“La vie peut être difficile parfois,” Bucky says, and even though you know it's French, you don't understand it.

“C'est la vie it's the only thing I know in French, Bucky.” You sit down again, facing the landscape. “That and Merci.”

“Sorry. I don't know much myself. Just the basics.”

“We could maybe–”

“(Y/N). Bucky.” Steve comes out of nowhere walking fast. “Just came to let you know I'll be going on a mission with Tony. Not sure for how long.”

“Human trafficking in South Africa.” You say, standing up and walking over to him. “Kick some ass and come back in one piece. Tony too.” Smiling, you give him a quick hug. “I'll watch over Bucky until you come back.”

“Actually...” He says, and you raise an eyebrow when he looks at Bucky. “Can you keep an eye on her?”

“Sure, buddy,” Bucky answers, joining you and giving Steve's hand a shake. “I won't let her get in any trouble.”

“I am trouble.” Rolling your eyes, you cross your arms. “But I mean it. In one piece, Rogers. Don't make me go all the way there and teach you how to do your job.”

“God help us with this little one here in our team.” Bucky mumbles in a low voice, but loud enough to make sure you'd hear it.

Rolling your eyes again, you give them both a push in the arm. “Well, jerks, I'll get on with my morning workout routine.” Saluting them with the usual military gesture, touching your forehead with your hand, you leave both men to talk.

•••

Steve's mission goes on for a while. It's day four, and they're still doing some investigation over there. Tony keeps everyone informed, so you know they're both fine.

But tonight, you'd like Steve to be here. The team has what Natasha calls a movie night. Usually happens on Fridays, and they order something to eat and someone chooses a movie. It's fun to see them get together like this, but you're not too close to anyone, so you feel a little like... An outsider. It's not that they don't make you feel welcome, because they do, you're just a little shy.

So you're seated on this small lounge set on the bedroom floor, where the glass walls meet. The whole place has walls like this, and you like it. They let the light come in and give a nice view of the surroundings. Steve said Tony made it so we can always have an eye outside, just in case. The lounge has a round table and three armchairs, and you're seated on the one in the middle, looking at the dark sky outside, and the lights from the compound's surroundings.

“Thought you'd be excited for movie night.” The voice, which you're learning to recognize, makes you look over your shoulder. Bucky comes from his bedroom in a white shirt with long sleeves and simple jeans. As always, he wears a glove to cover the metal hand. “Steve said you like movies.”

“I am, I just...” Shrugging your shoulders, you watch as he stops by the armchair on your right. “I'm a bit shy, I guess. I don't know them much and I'll kinda feel like the outsider.”

“I feel the same. Even though I've been here for a while.” Bucky sits down, eyes on the window. “Every time the other guy comes out, I know I hurt them. I beat them. And then I'm going out there to do God knows what. And part of me just wants to...” His voice fades, and he looks at you with a sad, small smile. “Look at you. You barely got here in your special mission and I'm already opening my heart to you.”

Your lips break into a smile, and for some reason, your cheeks start burning. “Well, I won't force you to share your deepest secrets but I'll listen, Barnes.” Reaching out your hand, you touch his arm. His metal arm. You feel how solid it is under the light fabric of his shirt, and when he looks at your hand, you can tell he expects you to take it away. But you won't. “I'm Steve's best friend, and so are you. I think that makes us friends too.”

“I guess it does.” He says in a low voice. “Then come. They're waiting for us and we can make each other company.” He stands up, and you do the same.

“Let's go.” You smile, walking to the living room side by side.

Everyone is there already. Well, everyone who lives here. The couch is full so you sit on the floor with Bucky, despite Vision offering you his sit. The chosen movie was Shutter Island, and apparently, you were the only one who already watched it. So you don't say anything, silently focused on the TV.

“Something's off,” Bucky whispers to you at some point, and you nod. “You've watched it before, haven't you?”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at him. “How do you know?”

“Everyone has a reaction when a certain thing happens, but not you.”

“You're quite the observer, aren't you?”

“Shhhh.” The sound is followed by a pillow hitting you right on the face.

You manage to see it comes from Sam, so you take it and stand on your knees to throw it back at him. “Shhh to you too.” You whisper, settling down again.

Halfway through the movie, they start making theories. You remain quiet, agreeing with some of their thoughts. Natasha is the one to get closer to the plot twist. At some point, Bucky excuses himself and goes to the balcony. You give him some looks before deciding to excuse yourself as well, sliding the door open and stepping into the balcony. “Wasn't enjoying the movie?” You ask, moving to sit across from him at the table.

“Already figured out the end.”

“Don't you want to see if you're right?”

“I know I am.”

“So overconfident.” You giggle, drumming your fingers on the wooden top. He's silent, and it doesn't seem like he wants to talk much. But also, you don't want to go. “Wanna see something crazy?”

He furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

Taking your phone from your pocket, you put it on the table between you and Bucky, taking a deep breath to concentrate. “It might take a while.” Focusing on the phone, you position your hands on each side of it. It's been quite a long time since you went there, to move this energy inside you. So you awake it again, and you feel it flowing from your core, spreading through your veins and body until you channel it to your hands. When you feel it, you move your right hand slightly, in a soft flow. The energy is pushed out, hitting the phone and making it slide all the way to your left hand, where you grab it. “I did it!” You exclaim with a smile before looking up at Bucky.

“You have powers?” He's smiling, fully this time, with those blue, kind eyes locked on you.

“Mhmm.” You nod. “I haven't used them in while. The last time was when I showed Steve.”

“Why? This is amazing.”

“Because I couldn't control it. Still can't, so I put my efforts into keeping it locked up so I wouldn't hurt anyone by accident or break stuff.”

“Wanda is the best one here to help you with that, I believe.” He says, the wind messing with his hair. You like his hair a lot, you just noticed. “How did you find about it?”

“I was eleven years old. I slipped and rolled down the stairs at home and twisted my ankle. It hurt so bad that I yelled, and pushed the couch all the way across the living room.” You tell him, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “I used it for a while, but I started breaking things, pushing people when I got mad or hurt. So I decided I'd keep it down. I even forgot it existed for some years.”

“Once you learn to control it, you'll be of great help during missions. I'm sure you will–”

“Pardon me.” The voice comes at the same moment a figure appears right next to you.

“GODDAMN IT!” You yell, heart pounding in your chest as you jump up from your seat, looking at the owner of the voice, Vision. Obviously. “Could you not? I'd like to grow old so I'm trying to avoid a heart attack.”

“I'm so sorry, miss (Y/N), but I have urgent news.” He has an apologetic face on before turning at Bucky. “Steve and Tony got a little overwhelmed. They need you.”

“Right away.” He immediately stands up, and you look at him.

“Come back in one piece.” You tell him, a small smile on your lips. “I'd like to finish our talking.”

“I will.” He assures you, with kind eyes and a smile, the last thing you see of him before he follows Vision.

You stay there for a while before going back in, taking Vision's place this time. You do hope things will be fine.

×

@hi-im-fan-trash @takeabreathdeath @pre-google @thespeeder @heavenly1927 @marvel-fanfic-writer-8675 @insidxangel @winters1917

[amoebaforce]

Hi! How about some headcanons of the scions with a WoL who’s been scared of using their reaper class due to its garlean background until it was necessary to saving their life? Sorry if that doesn’t make sense 😭 love your writing btw❤️

thank you so much for the compliment!

this was a thought-provoking request! i like the idea of a WoL who has some ethical reservations about using this particular job.

so, here's some bullet-pointed headcanons for you, sweet anon! these are set during a nondescript conflict during Endwalker. i couldn't get to every Scion in one go, else this would be a very long reply, so let me know if you guys would like a part two with the rest :)

characters featured: Y'shtola Rhul, Thancred Waters, Urianger Augurelt, Alphinaud Leveilleur, Alisaie Leveilleur tags: canon-typical blood/violence, gn!WoL

Y’shtola

None of the Scions would ever force the WoL to use their Reaper job stone, but Y’shtola is the most enthusiastic about the possibility.

She listens and nods as the WoL explains their hesitancy, and she does understand, but she can’t deny that the possibility of studying a bound voidsent excites and intrigues her.

Reads every book, scroll, and treatise about voidsent and Reaping she can get her hands on, which is no small task given the clandestine nature of the job. She tries to pepper light-hearted suggestions and reassuring facts into conversations on the subject.

“Scholars say the likelihood of voidsent breaking free is infinitesimal, especially when they are bound to such a fearsome warrior as you. Plus, we’re all here for you, too. What’s one little voidsent compared to the might of the Scions?” 

Her heart skips a beat when she finally witnesses the WoL switch jobs in the midst of a fight — that vicious burst of black and red magic, that glittering scythe flashing through air! Y’shtola can’t help but grin as she watches the WoL cleave an enemy in two, making a series of mental notes on the voidsent’s functionality. It was worth the wait.

Thancred

Completely supportive, no matter what. To be honest, he’d be a little freaked out, too, if he was the one wielding forbidden Garlean magic in the midst of a bloody war with the Empire. Plus, the WoL has plenty of other options in a fight, so there’s no real need to use it if they don’t want to.

“You could fight with a garden trowel and win. No need to whip out the demons.”

But then, a fight threatens to go sour. Their enemy is charging something big, and the Scions can’t beat their grunts off fast enough to get to the leader. They need more firepower, more fury. 

Thancred fires off a charge from his gunblade and looks to the WoL. They’re already changing.

His eyes widen at the sight. It’s beautiful and terrifying at the same time, to see his friend’s eyes turn cruel as they’re enshrouded by the voidsent. He rushes to defend their flanks, casting worried glances over his shoulder as they shred through the opposition like paper.

Urianger

He doesn’t blame the WoL for their feelings on Reaping. Garlemald is directly responsible for a great many tragedies, and such an association is not to be taken lightly.

Yet, ever the pragmatist, Urianger sees the use in Reaping. Soul magic is potent and powerful, and he knows the WoL will have to rely upon it sooner or later, given their enemy’s ever-growing hunger for destruction.

So, Urianger prepares. He watches and waits, casting those knowing eyes upon his beleaguered friend every time their hand twitches toward their job stones.

Finally, the time comes: the WoL is cornered, taking hits faster than Urianger can heal them. “Let fly your scythe!” Urianger calls, pulling a card from his deck. The WoL’s hand dips into their pocket, and a flash of light sweeps past. 

Urianger looks at the card in his hand. The Arrow. Navigator, guide my hero true, he prays silently, infusing the WoL with his magic as their transformation ends. A ringing warcry is the answer to his prayer.

Alphinaud

The young Master Leveilleur would rather swim from Limsa to Doma than see his best friend so conflicted. He feels their conundrum viscerally and tries his best to help the WoL come to a decision.

Makes a pros and cons list of all the reasons to use the Reaper stone and all the reasons not to. It comes out as an exactly even split, much to his chagrin. He rips it up instead of showing it to the WoL.

He’s busy healing his twin and blasting a Garlean soldier with his nouliths when he hears the distinct noise of a stone being switched behind him. He glances up and his mouth falls open.

The WoL is enveloped by blackened aether, laughing and howling as they tear through a pack of war-dogs. Blood splashes crimson against the Garlean snow. He fumbles to cast a shield on his friend, not sure what else they need from him now.

The shroud falls back, revealing the WoL’s bloodlusted eyes and curved grin. It seems the decision has been made. Alphinaud nods silently and casts a Haima over his friend.

Alisaie 

Like her brother, Alisaie hates when the WoL is mulling something over. They’re even quieter than usual, somehow, which sets her on edge. She takes it upon herself to raise their spirits.

“Hey, just because they invented it, doesn’t mean you can’t use it, too! That’d be like the Sharlayans gatekeeping their Sage stones! Well, I mean, they kind of do… But that’s not the point!”

The WoL appreciates her efforts nonetheless. They just can’t seem to shake the feeling of wrongness that accompanies the act of summoning their bound voidsent…

Until they watch an Imperial legion mech knock Alisaie off her feet, sending the slight Elezen teen flying into a rocky outcropping. Suddenly, none of their reservations matter anymore. Their scythe materializes faster than they can think, and then they’re aiming their blade across the mech driver’s neck.

Alisaie coughs and laughs from her divot in the ground. She lifts her rapier triumphantly and cries, “Hells yeah! Give them a taste of their own medicine!”

[egg-emperor]

As a Shadow enjoyer I also love how fucked up eggman is about him, like he’s just the newest little toy to use against Sonic and try to break when it inevitably rebels. They’re each other’s only link left to Gerald too, a man they both admired and respected in their own ways. It’s really cool to see how the characters are twisted together right from the start

YEEESSS EXACTLY!!! It's so fucked up and compelling for it. It's way too good for people to be misinterpreting due to the confession to his lie that's often presented without the full important context, and how IDW had Sonic try to use it as a reason for Shadow to give Eggman a chance. I still can't believe they used an example of him only fighting against the Black Arms to save his own ass and the world he wants to rule AND lying and manipulating Shadow all the way through lol wtf

Anyway, he has extremely selfish and self-centered reasons behind all his missions in the game. For Sky Troops, he sent out his fleet because if the Black Arms destroyed it all then he couldn't rule it. With Iron Jungle and Circus Park, he wants himself and his bases to be protected by fighting off G.U.N. that come after him. For Cryptic Castle and Lava Shelter, he just wants help with defending his bases. And here are all those examples:

All his motives and missions involve using Shadow, having him carry out his orders that he intends for himself to benefit from alone, without a single thought for anyone else and only want to save himself and the world to rule. He uses Shadow through and through to aid his fleet in combating the Black Arms, protect him during G.U.N's pursuit, then help him defend his bases from G.U.N and the Black Arms. It's just all about him like always! That's why I love them so much lol

Furthermore, in Sky Troops, Eggman has this idle line, if his intentions of sending out his fleet couldn't be any clearer:

Then of course, if selfishly using him to do his dirty work when the world is in great danger and Shadow is already all over the place mentally isn't bad enough, the man also goes ahead and manipulates and gaslights him into believing he has no past, none of it was real and he was an android created by him and Shadow is confused and broken:

He calls himself his master and tells him to know his place beneath him:

Shadow drops into the room full of androids and Eggman eerily and gleefully lies and says he’s just another “beloved android” just like these guys and tells him to “say hi and be friends” but they’re clearly hostile and immediately mindlessly start firing at him. So he's given the impression that he’s one of them, just a weapon that belongs to his master.

This is the exact kind of shit I love, when he does something so fucked up and evil in a casual, cheery, or humorous way but when you really focus on it and think about his intentions, it makes it even more sinister and chilling 😍

But then, in the same level you can hear him say THIS:

It gets even darker because he's using Shadow's pain from the glimpses of dark distressful memories in his flashbacks to make him act in his favor too, even though he's supposed to believe they aren't real and never really happened. Anything to make him fight for him and do his dirty work.

This bastard fucks with his mind by taking advantage of both his amnesia and what he can remember by telling him he's one thing then saying another, whatever it takes to give him the drive to do as he says. You know what it reminds me of? How Gerald repurposed Shadow to want to bring destruction to the human race. Eggman tried to use him for it again but this time on his own terms. Ohhooo man

Continuing the talk of selfish motives and yet another way he uses Shadow, he also expects him to just hand over all the emeralds after collecting them. It was only for his own selfish gain as he's always hungry for power and eager to get his hands on the emeralds for himself, while Shadow is trying to collect them to remember his past and can use them to defeat the Black Arms. But Eggman says they belong to him and demands him to hand them over or be destroyed.

I like how in one of the Lava Shelter version, when Shadow refuses he's like "how DARE you, I OWN you, I gave you life, you're supposed to obey me!" It's also really telling of how he really feels that Shadow belongs to him. And he's so aggressive about it too 😳💜:

And even when he isn't gaslighting him and pretending that Shadow is his creation, he's still manipulating and using him because he feels entitled to him as his grandfather's creation, clear with the way he demands the emeralds and says "Have you forgotten that it was MY grandfather who created you?":

I also included the "You were once a great invention from my grandfather's past, but this is MY time." This is why he'll happily use his creation for his own selfish gain and will lie about the truth about his creator and steal the credit.

I like also how it's telling of how he doesn't do anything for anyone else, not even the Robotnik family like some say. As if his goals of wanting to dominate the world, rule and empire, and build messed up deadly theme parks ever seemed like a way to avenge Gerald anyway lol. It's pure selfishness and self-centeredness, it's all about him and what he wants.

Gerald's time is over, he's the world's greatest scientist now, his creations are like his heirlooms, and now it's his turn to use them as he pleases and doesn't care what Gerald's wishes might have really been instead. He also doesn't care about Shadow's promise to all the victims aboard the ARK lol

He doesn't care about Shadow and see him like a living being like others do. He doesn't give him special treatment for being a creation of his grandfather's. He wasn't his "secret treasure" that Rouge was after in Heroes and even she knew that. He didn't save him out of the goodness of his heart, or even because he didn't want his grandfather's creation to be destroyed, considering how he just used him to create androids and wants to destroy him himself if he doesn't obey him.

Eggman wants to use Shadow as a puppet, a tool, a weapon, a toy to play with and break. He acts like he owns him and he's beneath him, whether he's gaslighting him into believing he's his creation or being honest but showing his selfish entitlement and demanding it due to him being his grandfather's creation, he'll lie or manipulate him into evil and try to own and use him for selfish gain either way.

And when Shadow realizes, he even says it in his own words!

And the final blow? Eggman already used him before all this even began by saving him only to use him to make androids and planned on gaslighting Shadow and pretending he was one of them when he woke up. This is why even the Metal Sonic disguised as Eggman in Sonic Heroes tells Shadow that he has no past. He had already been taken advantage of by him and the events of this game is just him doing it all over again, with him awake to suffer through it this time.

Eggman's confession to the lie was to give him that extra boost of motivation he might've needed to defeat Devil Doom with the "You really are the ultimate life form my grandfather created!" He's a good actor when he needs to seem sincere but he definitely wasn't genuinely remorseful. Plus, he was uncertain of survival in that moment, as he was nervous the entire time. He also never actually apologizes and it doesn't undo the seriously twisted thing he's done.

But wait, that's still not all! Proof of how he doesn't feel remorse is how he only rubs more salt in the wound when it's all over. When Shadow was upset with him for lying and using him, he still didn't apologize. In fact he didn't care at all, he just shrugged it off like "pfft fine then"

He still doesn't give a single fuck after all that lol what an asshole 💜

Despite everything, they're still the only link to Gerald each other have left, the only thing left in common between them as well as their respect for him. Eggman is careless towards it and only tried to use him and lead him down a dark path like Gerald wanted to when he was at his worst but he does it out of pure selfishness and cruelty instead. And Shadow has to face the reality that this is the path the last member of the family left he knows of went down and try to stop him when he causes trouble.

I don't see a lot of discussion of it that's in character and analyzes canon, people usually present Eggman as a Shadow fanboy like in Boom and stuff like that instead. But it's so interesting the way it really is in canon, how complicated and deep it can go and how fucked up and fascinating it is on Eggman's side. It's unfortunate that it's overlooked so much because present day Robotnik family interaction with Shadow and Eggman is just as cool and interesting as past with Shadow, Maria, and Gerald!

Oops I went a bit crazy with this hehe, it's just I've never done a post putting all together quite like this before and I had to lol. I've always been super fascinated with this plot line and I really wish Shadow 2005 explored it to its full potential for the way they seemed to be setting it up for something bigger in Heroes but I still love what we got and how deep it can go just with that! I'm so glad I'm not the only one who loves it :D

[writingwithcolor]

Gingerbread man as golem

@yaronata asked:

I would like to write a character who is Jewish and uses a Golem. She's based on the D&D class of the artificer which looks magic but isn't, because they produce all their effects with inventions, like the "any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic" quote. Her story is that her very Jewish town was under attack from a terrible monster when she was little. Her Rabbis made a Golem to protect the town, and it succeeded but was torn to pieces in the process. She was fascinated by the Golem and as a kid didn't see a big difference between it's sentience and person's so was really thankful for its sacrifice like you would a person's sacrificing their life for you. They thought all the pieces had been devoured by the monster before it died, but she went looking and found the piece used to animate the Golem, which she, kinda misunderstanding called its "heart". She kept the piece and grew up to be an incredibly skilled cook, specialising as a baker in the town. I imagine she would make a lot of really good food for the Jewish holidays, or to break fasts on ones like Yom Kippur or Tish'abav. But she also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice and the town still being alive, because I feel "we are not dead woo" is a big theme for Jewish holidays from my research, so it could fit, for which she invented ginger bread men to be the golem, and gave them little "hearts" of fruit or honey, and you're meant to eat them limb by limb like the beast did before eating the heart. This would be the inspiration for using the "heart" piece later to make her own giant gingerbread Golem to help her save the world.

These are my questions 1) would it be considered bad or disrespectful for someone who isn't a Rabbi to make a Golem, or is this method of taking an animating piece someone else made disrespectful? 2) Her journey will take her far from her town and her Jewish family and friends and she will likely travel with gentiles. Would it be disrespectful for a Golem to be used to protect a lot of gentiles and one Jew in the course of saving the world? I don't want to fall into the stereotype of someone putting all their effort into valuing and protecting very specifically the group that in real life is oppressive to them. 3) While she is not using magic and is actually mimicking its effects with technology she invents, is this drawing too close to the line of "magical Jew"? 4) I like to "play test" my characters in ttrpgs to really get a feel for them before I write. Would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character when I am a gentile, and would it be disrespectful to play a Jewish character in a setting where there are demonstrably real gods other than the one of Judaism?

I really like this character idea and I think it's cute and fun and rooted in Jewish culture but I really want to make sure it's respectful and as good as I, a gentile researching on the internet, thinks it is. Thanks so much! Have a nice day!

My answer to this is very complicated because there are things I both like and do not like about this premise. First of all, I love the idea of a cookie golem, and I'm even imagining the magic word that brings him to life (EMET/truth) would be written in icing. And I'm okay with the part about how she found a piece of the old golem and used it to build a new golem, because that makes sense for a golem made from a baked good when you think about how people use sourdough starter to make a new batch of sourdough.

However, here are the thing that make me cock my head to the side like my little sister's German shepherd:

1. re: "magical Jew" - that's not a trope I've ever heard of. Remember, marginalized groups don't receive identical disrespect across the board. It is indeed a trope to use Black people or disabled people as supernatural plot devices who exist only to further the stories of white main characters or able-bodied main characters. But I can't say as I've ever seen anyone using Jewishness that way. Usually if we are someone's one-dimensional plot device it's as someone's lawyer, fixer, "money guy", etc, not a supernatural force. So this isn't something you have to worry about.

2. I have a certain level of discomfort with you playing as a Jewish character just because playacting as a marginalized culture you're not part of strikes me as off, but I understand that that's how you gain insight into a character you're about to write so it's more of a writing exercise than anything else. (I wonder if D&D regulars from marginalized groups have written about this -- I've only played a few times casually with family so if I did run into this type of discussion in my social justice reading I wouldn't have absorbed it. If anyone is curious I played first as Captain Werewolf, and then switched to playing as Cinnamon Blade because lawful good was too hard. :P )

3. I would prefer you omit the detail about eating the cookies piece by piece symbolically, for two reasons: a. it unintentionally evokes Communion by having appreciative people consume a baked good symbolic of an entity who sacrificed his life for theirs, and b. focusing on the details of flesh consumption reminds me too much of Blood Libel (yes, a gingerbread man is in the shape of a person but how many of us actually think about it literally, the way this act would cause?)

As to your first question: I'm fine with her making a golem even though she's just a rando. Second question: I see what you're saying and maybe it could be more okay if it's really clear how well these gentile folks are treating her? And questions three and four are answered above.

I really do love the idea of a giant gingerbread man golem. Cookie golem T_T <3

--Shira

I would like to second Shira’s point about not ripping apart the gingerbread cookies. I honestly would prefer they were used as decoration, and other cookies eaten instead, since that part just feels so not-Jewish to me, but I don’t have golem-specific issues other than that. It seems like you have already been doing a lot of research, which is appreciated.

As far as the ttrpg/DnD aspect… I bounce back and forth on the topic of playing characters that are so very different from our experiences, other than in fantasy-related ways. However, I am aware that a lot of people will play with, and experiment with gender in game, and learn something about themselves in the process (the number of trans players of ttrpgs who tried out their gender in game before they were out is high). It’s different with Judaism, and even more significantly different when it comes to things you can’t convert into, like various actual, real-world races. But because people do sometimes experience growth from experiences like this, I’m hesitant to dissuade players completely. I do urge you to, at a minimum, bring the same care, research, and willingness to learn, that you brought to this question.

--Dierdra

This sounds like a creative storyline that you could have lots of fun with 😊

At first I was confused by this part:

She also made a town specific holiday to honour the Golem's sacrifice

But then you really got me thinking about different types of Jewish holidays and how they come about, so thank you for that!

Because it’s often the little details that either make a story super powerful or kind of nonsensical, I think it would be a good idea to decide what type of holiday is being created here:

A full-blown chag with restrictions on labour and halachic obligations? These are commanded in Torah and new ones can’t be added.

A minor yom tov with halachic obligations but no restrictions? These were instituted by the rabbis prior to the destruction of the Temple, so again new ones can’t be added.

A public holiday or equivalent? This would usually be declared by the Knesset in Israel, and filter to the rest of the Jewish world from there.

A community-based yom tov with specific customs only for people in the know, such as certain Chasidic groups celebrating the birthdays of their deceased leaders? I asked around, but no one can really tell me how these holidays get started, which is probably a good indication that they arise quite organically from a group of people who all just feel that it should be celebrated. Probably not created by a single person, as such.

Something she runs from her bakery, not religion-based, but more like a day of doing special products and deals the way many small businesses do on their anniversary?

Now, if the people of a modern-day town were actually saved by a real live Golem, that would arguably be the most overt miracle for many generations, so there would be a decent chance of options 3 and/or 4 happening. It’s entirely plausible that there could be special foods for this day that become a tradition, including Golem cookies. People who directly benefited might also return to the site where the Golem fought the monster and recite the prayer, ‘Blessed is Hashem, Master of the Universe, Who performed a miracle for me in this place.’

Alternatively, if it’s important that your MC created the holiday, something like option 5 might be the best. Hopefully this will still fulfil what you need: you describe her as incredibly skilled, so I can imagine the day when she goes all out on the Golem cookies being one of the most exciting events of the year for the townspeople, just because her baking is that good. Plus, they already have a personal stake in the Golem’s sacrifice, so I definitely think it could be a thing without being an official holiday. Also, if she is outside of an all-Jewish environment, don’t forget that she would have to decide whether to commemorate the anniversary in the Hebrew calendar or the local one.

Coming back to the cookies, sorry if we’re getting a little repetitive on this point! But I don’t see the cookies being torn limb from limb as part of a celebration. First of all, this doesn’t sound like a very celebratory thing to do, to say the least. Can you imagine explaining that to a three-year-old on their first Yom HaGolem? They would be terrified! (I don’t read this suggestion as accidental anti-Semitism so much as getting carried away with a metaphor, which I’m sure as writers we have all done!)

But also, it’s worth pointing out that our commemorative foods aren’t usually that literal. If you think about hamantaschen, maror, or apple in honey, they’re all symbols. That’s not to say that having Golem-shaped cookies is a problem, as this sounds like just a bit of fun that the MC is having and not something that is directly at odds with Judaism or Jewish culture. But it’s worth bearing in mind that the more literal you go from there in terms of tying the cookies to the event they commemorate, the less culturally aligned your holiday food becomes.

Finally, about the Golem protecting non-Jewish people: I like this idea! There’s a stereotype that we only use whatever is at our disposal to help ourselves and other Jewish people, so a Golem being created by Jews but helping others as well is a big plus for me. Of course, as has already been pointed out, this would be an odd choice if her Saving The World team were anti-Semitic or otherwise disrespectful to her/her community, but I don’t think you were headed that way!

-Shoshi

I have to come back in here just to squee over the phrase “Yom HaGolem.” Well done :D

--Shira