#anyway I find the contrast of hope and despair interesting here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fuwahiko · 3 years

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Ok more fluff coming your way because i throw it all on Hajime mans needs a break. Imagine a Non-Despair au where Izuru is a real person and Hajime's twin, they go to Hope's Peak. Izuru in the Main Course and Hajime in the Reserve Course.

Class 77 plan a get-together outside of school because they wanted to...and Chisa said to get together outside of school. Izuru is...not feeling social so he decides to bring Hajime along. He didn't tell anyone he was bringing his brother, but they'll learn when he shows up.

So fast forward to The Hang Out, and all of class 77 are waiting for Izuru. They're not surprised because Izuru is Izuru and he does not like socializing. They're all chatting and laughing at TeruTeru getting his ass chewed out by Mahiru when Izuru comes in and...he's hanging off of someone with short choppy hair and green eyes? Whomst? Izuru doesn't have friends outside of them who beith this man?

"Izuru what the hell, you forgot to tell them about me?!" "...oh, it seems so. Sorry Haji."

So Izuru introduces his brother because he FORGOT to tell his class about Hajime. Everyone's nice to him, even Nagito because he's got a hope boner for Izuru Kamukura aka Ultimate Hope man.

Fuyuhiko goes up and says "hi" because if Peko can try to socialize, so can he. Hajime smiles and says hi back, and that's that. Fuyuhiko goes back to his antisocial wall, and Hajine goes back to being Izuru's emotional support pillar. Literally.

But they're both flushed. Fuyuhiko's eyebrows are furrowed and Hajime's biting his lips. They steal glances at each other when the other isn't looking. Fuyuhiko and Hajime are both thinking, "Oh no cute boy."

And LET THE MUTUAL PINING, TSUNDERE ACTIONS, AND CLASS 77 SHENANIGANS COMMENCE. With wingwoman Peko, insgigator Natsumi on both sides, and Izuru being the overprotective brother that he is.

yessss pining boys!! without having like... the reasons they had in the game to talk to each other, how does one approach a cute boy (tm)? when both you and the cute boy (tm) are so awkward and have such difficulty getting chatting, what do you do?

imagining Peko as a wingwoman is really cute and kinda amusing too because she’s y’know, sort of awkward too and sometimes struggles to keep conversations going and stuff so I imagine there’d probably be some moments where Peko is trying her best to help Fuyuhiko by starting a conversation with Hajime so she can bring Fuyuhiko into it as well but maybe it’s a sort of unusual topic or she doesn’t really give Hajime much to work with so it kinda flops at first and Fuyuhiko’s concerned that it’s not gonna go anywhere, but then Peko ends up saying something that Hajime finds funny (even though there’s a 95% chance that Peko wasn’t intending to be funny) and that allows for the conversation to open up more and become a lot easier.

Hajime and Fuyuhiko end up keeping the conversation going for a few minutes, but they’re both still pretty flustered and they keep getting overwhelmed and distracted (cute boy!! omg!!) so they end up struggling and the conversation dies out again. just then Izuru spots them and comes over again to butt in and latch onto Hajime and Fuyuhiko uses it as an opportunity to head off and escape the awkwardness. Hajime gets irritated with Izuru for scaring Fuyuhiko off but is also honestly a little relieved because he wouldn’t have wanted to make things even more awkward by just letting the silence between them carry on for who knows how long.

the get together ends without them getting the chance to talk any more than that, but even so they both find that they just can’t stop thinking about each other in the days that follow. it’s been several days already but Fuyuhiko still gets distracted in class thinking about how cute Hajime’s big bright smile was and the sound of his laugh, how soft his hair looked, how big his arms were compared to his own. Hajime finds himself sitting on his bed and hugging his pillow to his chest as he thinks about Fuyuhiko’s pretty eyes, his cute freckles, and how surprisingly friendly and sweet he’d been in contrast to his intimidating aura (which Hajime also found very attractive, of course). there’s a lot of covering cheeks with hands, lowering heads to hide soft expressions and a hell of a lot of times where somebody is trying to get Hajime’s or Fuyuhiko’s attention but they might as well be talking to a brick wall because they’re both so distracted by their thoughts that they’re completely lost to the world.

Natsumi notices all of this from both of them and finds it hilarious (and pretty adorable, she has to admit) and even though she does think Hajime is sort of lame she knows her brother is genuinely really into him and... well, he’s not that bad, right? yeah, okay, he’s actually pretty alright... so why not give them both a little shove in the right direction?

problem is, they’re both completely useless.

she makes several attempts at trying to encourage them to do something about all these god damn butterflies and fluffy pink hearts that are practically radiating from them both, but nothing works. she gives up. a few more days pass and... nothing changes. they’re both so god damn annoying. Hajime lets out his 200th dreamy sigh in class (which is a lot less discreet than Hajime thinks it is) and Natsumi almost loses it. she has to do something about this.

the next day she asks Hajime to meet her in a quiet spot just outside of school when classes are over, she tells him she wants to talk about something. Hajime doesn’t really get what the deal is but he figures he’ll just go along with it rather than questioning her and making a fuss.

after school he goes to wait in the spot (Natsumi says she needs to do something else quickly first and tells Hajime to go ahead) but when he gets there... he sees Fuyuhiko is there waiting for him?!

Hajime stops dead in his tracks, freezing up and struggling to even breathe properly, and when Fuyuhiko looks up and realises Hajime is there he tenses up and balls his hands into fists at his sides. they stare at each other for a moment, their cheeks burning up as they process the situation, and then as soon as Fuyuhiko is able to kick his brain into gear again he realises exactly what is going on. he scrunches his face up, still bright red, though Hajime doesn’t notice yet. “god damn it, Natsumi!” his voice is loud, making Hajime jump a little, but it’s also sort of shaky.

“oh uh- I was supposed to meet her here- I-”

Fuyuhiko sighs. “yeah, me too. she did this on purpose. she was trying to get both of us here because she knows that-” he cut himself off, suddenly realising what he was about to say. out loud. to Hajime.

“huh? knows that what?” Hajime couldn’t figure out what Natsumi could possibly want from this that Fuyuhiko would know of. the only reason he could imagine was because she knew about his crush on Fuyuhiko and probably wanted to play some kind of prank, but that couldn’t be it because how would Fuyuhiko know why she’d called him there?

it was then that Hajime noticed that Fuyuhiko was turning away and avoiding eye contact. wait... is he blushing? what would cause him to blush in a situation like this? hang on a second...

slowly Hajime started to piece the situation together... but he must be imagining things, right? there has to be some other explanation. but he couldn’t help but cling onto that little thought, that maybe Fuyuhiko was also interested, even if it was silly to ever think that that could be the case. he wanted to test his theory out without giving himself away, and in the moment the best he could manage was some awkward joke. of course.

“hey... isn’t this kinda like when two characters in a romance anime meet up outside of school to confess or something?”

Fuyuhiko has a small coughing fit. he recovers after a moment and adjusts his tie, finally looking back at Hajime again. “huh?!”

Hajime panics and nervously searches for somewhere else to look so he doesn’t have to meet Fuyuhiko’s intense eyes. “n-nothing! I was just joking around! I uh- I thought it’d uh-” he feels like his cheeks are about to catch fire. he wants to run away but his legs won’t move an inch.

Fuyuhiko lets out a breathy laugh. “you’re so weird.”

Hajime looks up again and is surprised to see Fuyuhiko’s expression is much softer than expected, and though he keeps glancing up at Hajime he’s also struggling and looking around awkwardly as well. suddenly Hajime catches a look in Fuyuhiko’s eyes and they find themselves staring at each other for a moment. Hajime sees that he really wasn’t imagining it; Fuyuhiko’s face is very red right now. he realises that Fuyuhiko has noticed that his face is also red. he must have done. there’s no way he could possibly miss it. oh god.

there’s a long pause.

Fuyuhiko swallows and takes a moment to clear his throat.

“well anyway, since we’re here, do you want to... hang out sometime?”

Hajime’s eyes widen in surprise. he isn’t even able to process the question before Fuyuhiko continues speaking.

“I just mean because you’re my sister’s classmate n’ all I figure we should try to get along and-”

“y-yeah, sure. uh, I’d like that actually.” Hajime doesn’t realise he’s cut Fuyuhiko off until he’s already spoken.

there’s another pause, and then maybe a couple more minutes of them arranging a time and place to meet up in a few days while trying not to lose it and just turn to a big pile of mush out of embarrassment, and then they awkwardly part ways.

as Hajime turns to leave he thinks he hears something rustling in a bush nearby but figures it must be his imagination so he just ignores it and continues on his way.

Natsumi heads back home, a couple of small leaves stuck in her hair, giggling to herself. today would go down as one of the greatest successes of the ultimate little sister.

#kuzuhina #ask #thank you for the ask!!#I didn’t really throw izuru in here that much haha #but I very much enjoy the idea of him being hajime’s twin and being clingy and overprotective #it’s very cute #I didn’t bring the rest of class 77 into it either so woops #my brain can only handle writing about so many characters at once lmao #anyways I loved writing this omg #natsumi is a legend #we love and stan #oh yeah also this one is extra long so #long post #probs good to add that tag lol #dr2 spoilers

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 3 years

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Okay I was gonna do another SG:WoT post anyway because we’ve got a new King interview but THEN, he released the cover to issue four so you KNOW I gotta geek out about this.

(Sorry that this blog is all SG:WoT, all the time now, but I am just. Insanely excited that Evely is drawing Supergirl. Feel free to block/mute these posts as needed. XD)

Okay, so!

First! The interview!

It’s on (ugh) screenrant so I’m not gonna link, I’m just gonna nab the interesting bits:

On the different direction of the book, and if he wanted to go back to the original Adventure Comics vibes: “So, the idea of this thing was to strip her story down, because Supergirl has a majorly weird history in terms of continuity. At least 13 writers have rewritten her origin over the years. Her dad has 13 origin stories; sometimes he's evil, sometimes he's a robot, sometimes alive, sometimes he's dead. She's changed dramatically in the last 10 years, between coming back to life to the New 52 to Rebirth. She's gone through so much that it's hard to get a hold of her. Not to mention in the '90s, when I was coming up, she was like an ectoplasmic space angel. There's so much there, and I just wanted to take all that stuff off and get to the core of the character; get her out of her normal environments and her normal conflicts. It seems like all our stories are about her dad or her relationship to Superman. Instead, let's see the purity of that character.”

On starting the book the way he did: “...I wanted to start out with a very human moment of a person turning 21 and getting drunk. And a person who is getting drunk because they want to be alone, and they just want to forget about the shit that's happened in their past. That's such a human moment. And the fact that she's Supergirl, so she waits till it's legal - because these super people, they follow the rules. She waited, and now it's legal and she can have this moment. She goes off by herself, with her dog that always follows her, and she has a moment where she can be free. For a lot of people in the US, whether you've been drinking since you were 14 or started that day, your 21st birthday and the day after are days you remember for the rest of your life. It's a day of freedom and consequence, and I wanted to show Supergirl going through that.”

On rising to the challenge of helping Supergirl perform better, sales/popularity-wise: “ When I first got on this book, I called Steve Orlando, who had just written a Supergirl run. And he was the one who opened my eyes to how good the character is. He had such insight into her. He was like, ‘There is a difference between Clark and her, and what she's gone through.’ He just laid it for me.”

On starting the book off with Ruthye’s journey, and gradually building to Kara’s: “ I was like, "Okay, this is going to be from the point of view of someone under Supergirl." And so I switched the point of view to this new brand new character, whose name is Ruthye. And we went from there: we start with Ruthye's story, we see her discover Supergirl, and she's our audience. She's our way in, the way Robin has always been the way into Batman.”

On whether or not other characters will show up, outside of Supergirl and Ruthye: “It's like my Superman: Up in the Sky, where it's a distillation of the character. You'll see other characters, but the focus of every issue will be on Supergirl. And it's something where at the very end, you can be like, "Why is Supergirl great? Why is she important to the DC Universe? What is her future in the DC Universe? Here, read this one trade that can answer all three of those questions at once."So, there will be other characters in the Super universe. But the focus will always be on her; on Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow. It's her finding out about herself and her own strength.”

On Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow vs. his other titles: “Supergirl is my first 2021 book, or my first book of the 20s. That wrapped up my books of the teens, and now we're in a new generation. God willing, from the moment I started this book, I was like, ‘I'm gonna take a risk, and I'm gonna write books that are a little brighter.’ I know that's coming from me, and it's not to say we're going to avoid conflict or we're not going to explore the depths of the human soul. All that stuff will be in there. But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

On how he thinks folks will react to the Krypto cliffhanger: “I mean, they're gonna think it's a good cliffhanger. That's how I think they're going to react. They're going to say, ‘I want the next issue.’ That's literally my job as written in my contract. Something where at the end of an issue, someone says, ‘I want more.’ So, that's how I hope they react.”

As mentioned, this is not the full interview; the whole thing can be found on screenrant, and I think Tom King shared a link on his twitter.

And now, as always, SOME THOUGHTS:

I love that he brings up the fact that so many Supergirl stories focus on Zor-El and Clark, and how he was like, ‘let’s not do that.’

That’s my big gripe with modern Supergirl comics; they are trying so hard to make a statement on why we need both a Supergirl AND a Superman, that they end up spending ALL THEIR TIME talking about Clark, instead of, you know. Telling a fun Supergirl story.

Same thing with Zor-El! I know folks love Rebirth--I like it quite a bit myself--but I think the nostalgia goggles prevent folks from remembering that the whole first arc of that book was re-doing the ‘Cyborg Superman’ garbage from the Nu52.

Speaking of Rebirth, really like that of all the recent SG writers he coulda talked to, he talked to Steve Orlando.

Like, if ya can’t get Gates on the phone, get Orlando.

(I get the sense that Gates doesn’t like this book, actually, based on a vague tweet. But don’t quote me on that.)

Looks like Ruthye is gonna be our POV/audience insert character for the whole run. I’m...mmmm. I don’t love it, but I understand the logic here. Especially since he compared it to Batman and Robin--how you use Robin as your entry point for a bat book.

And you know what? Kara’s supporting cast needs some help, so. Welcome to the Superfam, Ruthye.

I also love the explanation behind the drinking thing, as well as the fact that Kara waited until it was 100% legal for her to drink because OF COURSE SHE WOULD.

I am so worried that Krypto is gonna die b/c of what we saw in Future State. I’m over here with my Pepe Silva board like, ‘Well, what if Kara agrees to help Ruthye because Krem MURDERED HER DOG?!?! WHAT IF THIS IS JOHN WICK IN SPACE?!?!?!’

So I am DISMAYED that King does not reassure us AT ALL.

Thus I am forced to cling to this tidbit here: “ But these books are made from a place of joy, not from a place of anger; from a place of hope, not from a place of despair. It very much contrasts to those other books, in my mind.”

Killing the dog would not be joyful. XD So, like. I’m REALLY HOPIN’ HE’LL BE OKAY.

AND LASTLY, (Except not really)

I have some additional, miscellaneous thoughts unrelated to the interview b/c I’m me and I’m loving having a Supergirl comic back on the shelves, however polarizing it may be.

Something I realized, when details started to come out regarding the book, and that other folks have now noted as well: Kara was 16 when Rebirth launched in 2016; she’s just turned 21 in 2021, making her one of the extremely few comic characters to age in real time.

I don’t think that was planned, but it is cool.

It occurred to me on a re-read that Ruthye never calls Kara Kara in her narration, only Supergirl. And I was a little sad! But then I remembered that Kara wouldn’t necessarily reveal her identity to people she’s helping, she would just be ‘Supergirl’ to them.

I really do love how, so far, there has been NARY A MENTION of Kara angst-ing over being in Clark’s shadow, or being Superman’s cousin.

It appears that her drinking alone on a remote planet is more related to trying to forget her trauma/grief related to Krypton. MAYBE. We don’t know yet.

The Clark thing could still come up. I hope it doesn’t.

(Interesting to note! Kara recently appeared in Action Comics, helping Clark and Jon investigate some Kryptonian refugees; IDK how closely these books will necessarily ‘work together’ in terms of continuity, but! It’s possible that the discovery of those mysterious refugees was triggering, thus sending her on her way to her own solo title.)

(Well. That’s gonna be my headcanon, anyway. XD)

AND LASTLY, (for real this time)

ISSUE FOUR COVER!!!!

Okay, some immediate thoughts:

GOOD LORD IT’S STUNNING.

I loooooove the fire motif, reminds me of a part from the Rebirth run, where Kara met the Super-Man of China, and they visually referenced All-Star Superman, having the Kryptonians kind of...become the sun.

Also STAR CHART?!?! PIRATE MAP!?!?!?!

The VIBES I tell you, the VIIIIIIIBES.

Also I love that it’s just Kara.

Don’t get me wrong! I like Ruthye just fine so far! But yeah, yeah, give me some more solo-Kara focus, even if it’s just in the art.

Just realized that once this thing gets collected as a TBP, we might get some Evely art backmatter. OhHhhHHhhH YESSSS.

Anyways, the long wait for issue 2 begins!

#stranger speaks #long post #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #comic thoughts #comic opinions #interview

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sokkastyles · 4 years

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Redemption and Hope

One of the interesting things I think ATLA has to say about redemption is that in order to get redemption, you have to be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve said before that Zuko could not have successfully joined Team Avatar if he thought that being on the good side was the same as being on the bad side. In order to become the best version of yourself, you have to have hope.

There’s a very interesting parallel that highlights this in “The Storm.”

Katara: (to Aang) I know it was meant to be this way. The world needs you now. You give people hope.

Iroh: Things will never return to normal. But the important thing is the Avatar gives Zuko hope.

“The Storm” abounds with parallels between Zuko and Aang, and this is one of the running themes through these two characters’ stories. Aang, waking up after one hundred years to a changed world in which he is the last of his people, will never be able to return to normal. Katara says he gives people hope but in the context of her words, she is trying to give Aang back some of that hope, after he blames himself for running away and getting frozen in the iceberg. Aang can’t bring hope to anyone if he doesn’t have it himself.

Whereas Aang’s world changed after he ran away, Zuko is desperately trying to get back to a place from which he was cast out. Iroh asserts that things will never return to normal, but it’s important that Zuko has hope. Iroh never really wants Zuko to capture the avatar, but what he doesn’t want Zuko to do is give up. To Zuko, if he doesn’t have his mission, then he has nothing. In this episode we are told just how important Zuko’s mission is to him, yet Zuko actually foregoes chasing after Aang in favor of getting his ship and crew to safety. So we are shown that there are limits to Zuko’s single-mindedness, and we actually see him be humble in this episode, apologizing to Iroh for his earlier selfishness. A similar scene occurs when Zuko decides to go rescue Iroh when he is captured by earthbenders rather than chase after the gaang.

At the end of book one, Zuko has braved freezing water in order to sneak into the Northern Water Tribe during the siege, captured Aang, then lost him, almost froze to death in the snow, was saved by his enemy, then tried to save Zhao from an angry avatar-fused moon spirit. All of these events put an additional strain on how he thinks the world works. His hope in his mission is faltering.

Iroh: I'm surprised, Prince Zuko, surprised that you are not at this moment trying to capture the Avatar.

Zuko: I'm tired.

Iroh: Then you should rest. A man needs his rest.

This scene is in contrast to the above mentioned scenes of Zuko choosing not to go after the avatar, because he’s not doing it to save others this time. But the voice acting makes it clear that the events that just transpired are weighing on his mind. He could not save Zhao, but was instead saved by the very person he was trying to capture. Zuko’s mission used to be a simple thing in his mind: capture the avatar, regain his honor, return to the fire nation and his place at his father’s side. But then the avatar was a child who wanted to be his friend and Zhao tried to have him killed and then Zhao was killed in front of him and he realized that he actually did care about other people, even cruel blowhards like Zhao.

When we first see him at the beginning of book two, Zuko is at his most despondent. He and Iroh are now on their own, and it happens to be the anniversary of the worst day of Zuko’s life.

Zuko: Three years ago today, I was banished. I lost it all. I want it back. I want the Avatar, I want my honor, my throne. I want my father not to think I'm worthless.

Iroh: I'm sure he doesn't. Why would he banish you if he didn't care? Uh, that came out wrong, didn't it?

Iroh tries (badly) to cheer Zuko up, because Iroh wants Zuko to have hope. His words here come across as empty, because I don’t think Iroh really believes them. In fact, later in this episode Iroh will give advice that is almost the opposite of what he says here, telling Zuko that despite what Azula says about Ozai wanting him back, he has “never known [his] brother to regret anything.” Iroh wants Zuko to have hope and because of this is willing to sometimes enable him in his hunt for Aang, but when it actually looks like Zuko might go back to the fire nation, or might be in danger (which are pretty much the same thing, whether he goes back as a prince or a prisoner, because it’s not safe for Zuko to go back to Ozai), he tries to discourage him. But in the above pictured scene, at least, all Iroh can do is give Zuko some empty assurance, because worse than Zuko actually achieving his mission to capture the avatar or going back to Ozai is if Zuko believes that nothing he does matters.

This is why when Zuko becomes officially cut off from the fire nation, he becomes anchorless, and resorts to petty thievery in a fruitless hope of regaining some semblance of his former identity as royalty..

Iroh: I know we've had some difficult times lately. We've had to struggle just to get by. But it's nothing to be ashamed of. There is a simple honor in poverty.

Zuko: There's no honor for me without the Avatar.

Iroh: Zuko... Even if you did capture the Avatar, I'm not so sure it would solve our problems. Not now.

Zuko: Then there is no hope at all. Iroh: No, Zuko! You must never give in to despair. Allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. In the darkest times, hope is something you give yourself. That is the meaning of inner strength.

As much as Iroh might be afraid of Zuko getting lost in Ozai’s toxic ideology, here he looks terrified that Zuko might lose hope completely. What’s kind of interesting here is that the way Iroh links the absence of hope with “surrendering to your lowest instincts” implies that there was a time when Zuko had even less hope than he does now, before the avatar was freed from an iceberg. As much as Zuko is introduced to us as a villain at the beginning of the series, what must he have been like in the years before there was any sign that the avatar had returned, with no direction and no hope, and nothing but hurt and anger to keep him going?

If this is Zuko at his most pessimistic, in contrast he is at his most optimistic at the end of book two, when he nearly comes to accept living a simple life with Iroh in Ba Sing Se. Previously we’ve seen him forego his hope in capturing the avatar in favor of doing the right thing, but this is the first time we’ve seen him put aside his hope in chasing the avatar in favor of putting his hope in something else. There’s a contrast here between Zuko’s hope in gaining Ozai’s approval vs his hope here which is centered around putting work into his relationship with Iroh; the absent father vs the father in front of him.

This newly discovered hope is only briefly realized, though. There’s a lot of dramatic irony in this episode. Zuko and Iroh are found out by Azula after Katara sees them while wandering around Ba Sing Se. Katara runs to warn the earth king that the fire nation has invaded the city, unknowingly realizing that she is talking to Azula who has actually invaded the city, while also alerting Azula to Zuko and Iroh’s presence, after Zuko seems to have stopped chasing the gaang. We don’t know, because it’s not allowed to last, but it’s possible that Zuko might have not even been a threat to Katara and the rest at this point any longer, had she not seen him at the tea shop.

Zuko then gets captured and thrown into prison with Katara, who he doesn’t know is the one who ratted him out. She starts leveling all kinds of accusations at him, and he initially is defensive (”you don’t know what you’re talking about”) then apologetic, then reveals the loss of his own mother in order to empathize with Katara. This new empathetic Zuko is a reflection of his attempts to try to make things work with Iroh, to live the life that Iroh wants for them both. Then when Katara apologizes to him he says that it doesn’t matter, because that life turned out to be short lived after all. Katara offers him another glimpse at hope in the form of healing his scar, but they’re interrupted.

Then Zuko has to make his big choice between Azula and Iroh. Iroh and the gaang represent hope, but it’s a hope that can’t last. As much as we might like to imagine that Zuko and Iroh could live a peaceful life in Ba Sing Se, Azula probably would have found them eventually, and the hope that Katara offers is uncertain - even she doesn’t know that it’s going to work, and it isn’t what Zuko needs anyway, because the physical scar is not the source of his problems, only a symbol of them. That’s why when Azula offers him another choice, the thing that he’s wanted for three years, it’s an offer he really has no hope of refusing.

Of course, Zuko eventually realizes only once he has returned to the fire nation that what he thought he wanted doesn’t make him happy, but he could have continued to live his life as the prince if he didn’t know that Aang was really still out there, alive. This is twofold because the fact of Aang’s survival means that Zuko can’t be comfortable by his father’s side because he’s constantly worrying if and when his father will find out that he didn’t actually kill Aang - which is what leads him to hire an assassin - but on another level, the fact of Aang’s survival is what motivates Zuko to actually oppose his father, which I doubt he would have been able to do without Aang’s presence in the world. When Zuko confronts his father, he tells him his plan to join the avatar and help Aang defeat Ozai. Without Aang, I don’t think Zuko has confidence that he alone would be able to oppose his father - he tells Iroh later that he is the only one other than Aang that could defeat the fire lord, showing that he does not believe it’s something he could have done on his own.

So in the end, what Iroh said in book one was correct. The avatar does give Zuko hope, but in exactly the opposite way that Zuko thought, the hope to become the best version of himself rather than the worst. Which then comes full circle as Zuko makes it his new mission to help Aang restore hope to the world.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla meta #zuko #iroh #aang

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edgythought · 4 years

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Strangers in the Bar I

Part II | Part III

Alex Turner x OC (I guess??)

Description: Two lonely people observe each other in a bar. It leads to something nice. Word count: 2,294

Warning: swearing, alcohol consumption, smoking.

A/N: It is not my first fanfic, but the first one I post here. Hope y'all enjoy and leave me some comments! This was written in April-May 2019, when I was strongly fascinated with Alex, but I can't say I thought about him while writing, so it's not really a fanfiction piece. Anyway, it's up to you to decide how to interpret this. I would love to receive feedback! Thank you for reading :)

Part I

Sunny Los Angeles in the middle of spring was an oasis of happiness, just as I thought it would be, no disappointment here. A whirlwind of events brought me here somehow and I am not mad at all. I always thought I am a New York kinda girl, strolling through the parks and skyscrapers, sipping my shit-load-of-spice latte, day (and night-) dreaming. You know, all the Great Gatsby vibes as well, but I am not into loud sounds unless I am at some concert dancing my lower back off.

My friends, who live in LA, gave a nice tour of the city and at the end of the day I am finding myself totally drained physically at the bar in the middle of nowhere (LA area). We had some cocktails with lads and even danced to a couple of extra popular Dua Lipa’s songs and a numerous amount of hispanic hits. It was great. Gals were tired, just as I was, so they went home, assuring me my hotel is 10 blocks away and an Uber would be totally affordable. Not that I am poor or something, but I always was cautious with money and my friends know I might come off as a cheapskate from time to time. So I felt fine to stay a little bit more and contemplate the infamous LA nightlife with my own eyes. Even if it’s only one bar of hundreds and not even the fanciest one.

It was over an hour since my friends left me and I was on my third Brandy Alexander when a strange man caught my attention. Moonage Daydream by a genius Bowie was playing extra loudly and he was moving his hips and lip-syncing so theatrically I couldn’t force myself to stop watching him. He was so into the music he never actually noticed he was looked at by everyone in the bar. A bartender who I cracked a couple of jokes with had a little smile on his face watching the dude and I asked “What? You like him?”. The reply I got shook me to the core: “Everyone likes him, although he is not very talkative. Nothing wrong with a dude fancying to dance a little, right?”. I turned a bit to acquire a better view on the dance floor; (the bartender’s remark made me actually watch the guy enjoying himself). He looked stunning, to be honest, but also weird, in a positive way. Long, slightly curly hair was always in his eyes, so he had to shake his head pretty often. White shirt, half-unbuttoned, gold chain, a couple of rings. He looked like a high (-profile) rockstar. (Exactly what I expected to see, but haven’t yet) His pants were really tight, though…

He was definitely interesting to pay attention to, but the song ended and I found myself staring a little too hard at the dude, so I thought it would be nice to chill a bit outside. I waved at the bartender that I will go out, took my glass and strolled through the crowd to the exit. Californian twilight was full of smells and sounds, with people chattering, cars beeping, birds singing their mysterious tunes, everything coming together with the smell of warm concrete, cigarettes and different spirits. I lit my cigarette and took a deep breath, watching the sky change colours from light bubblegum pink to pastel turquoise and dark blue, with some stars peeking through a light dim of clouds on my right. There was something about it that made me feel lighter a bit, free from the burdens of my everyday life. The contrast of the sky and dark silhouettes of trees and buildings reminded me I am not actually alone. I took another deep breath, inhaling the smoke, and hold it for a couple of seconds. I exhaled and watched the smoke twirl in front of my face. It always fascinated me how such a deadly thing can also be so beautiful. Just like love. I brushed those thoughts off of my mind, that’s not a way to have a good time. Actually, I was quite in the mood to show off some moves on the dance floor if the music fits. I am not really into hispanic tunes, just not my cup of tea. I threw away the butt and finished my drink in one go. I have nothing to lose, right?…

As I returned to the bar, I looked for the dancing dude in the crowd but he was nowhere to be found. Sad, I thought to myself, we could have had a really nice mute dance together. Anyway, I needed another drink to become a part of the dancing people, so I went straight to the bar. “Mind pouring me another one, darling?”, I asked my bartender as he was washing some shakers and spoons. “I don’t mind at all, what do you want?” - “The dancing juice you gave that guy in a very tight jeans” - “Gotcha, sweetheart” he chuckled and strolled away to the small freezer at the back. My heart was heavy and my breath trembled a bit. It’s always like that when I know I am about to do some stupid shit and then regret it the morning after. Even though I knew, I never stopped myself from doing it because it’s fun, right? At this point I just wanted to lift off the weight of my life off my shoulders and have fun, whatever it means, really.

The Bartender (why I never asked for his name? He looks like Josh to me…) came back with several bottles in his hands. “Hey, I guessed you want to dance, so I decided to help you not only by getting you drunk” - “Yeah? What are you going to do?” - “I already did, next song is for you”, he smiled and winked at me. I laughed and turned around to check if the dancing guy appeared, while I wait for the Bartender to fuel me with whatever he mixed. After torturous couple of seconds I saw the dude come out the restroom, hand running through his hair in a desperate attempt to make it not stick to his sweaty forehead. I wanted him present when I dance because I felt something while watching him being bonkers on the dance floor and it gave me some confidence to try it myself. He proceeded through the crowd to the bar and gestured the Bartender to come over. As I already was sipping on my “dancing juice” I started to feel the urge to do something, not to stay on my stool and right then I heard a starting riff of the song the Bartender put on for me. I knew the song, I used to listen to it a lot when I was younger, during my first year at Uni. Oh so many memories, so many parties… I sip the drink once more and put it a little too hard on the bar, then take off my jacket and leave on the stool I was occupying. The riffs were becoming louder and the dancing dude was smiling. What was he smiling at?

I was already on the dance floor, waving my head like a heroin-infused Mick Jagger look-alike.

Stop making the eyes at me I’ll stop making my eyes at you

I catch myself looking right at the dancing dude, like I am talking to him. His eyes widened and he raised his eyebrows a bit, surprised with attention.

And what it is that surprises me Is that I don't really want you to

I winked at him and turned around to stroll through a sheer dancing crowd a little further from him and closer to my stuff I left unattended. (I shouldn’t have to worry though, the Bartender was looking after it for me)

And your shoulders are frozen (cold as the night) Oh but you're an explosion (you're dynamite)

I shuddered as if I was actually cold and looked at him again, lip-syncing "you're an explosion" right at him. He started laughing and cheered me with his drink. The Bartender leaned over to tell him something, like they were long-time friends and I was surprised but not in the mood to waste my time thinking about that, it's not my business. So I continued with my crazy moves and weird poses.

Your name isn't Rio, but I don't care for sand Lighting the fuse might result in a bang, with a bang-go!

I felt him watching me with my back but I just didn't want to please him by looking at him. What a man, I thought, but what am I doing? The music was so encouraging to remember all the crazy shit that it was a soundtrack for, I managed to stick my worries to the back of my head and actually enjoy myself for the first time in long months.

I bet that you look good on the dance floor I don't know if your looking for romance or I don't know what you're looking for I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor Dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984 From 1984!

Now, I told myself and turned around to watch the dancing dude talk to the Bartender. I actually thought they were talking about me because the Bartender kept his eyes on me all the time the dude was telling him something. When he finished speaking, he glanced at me and I used the moment to sing "I bet that you look good on the dance floor" to him from afar. I was sure he saw it. I smiled, continuing moving my hips to the sound of music and trying to impersonate a robot from 1984. I knew he was watching me despite the very much dim lighting of the bar, coming from neon signs and candles on the tables mostly. The only light place was the bar itself, so I could see the dude, while he couldn't see much of me. But I know he saw, I was pretty close to the bar anyway.

I wish you'd stop ignoring me Because you're sending me to despair Without a sound yeah you're calling me And I don't think it's very fair That your shoulders are frozen (cold as the night) Oh but you're an explosion (you're dynamite) Your name isn't Rio, but I don't care for sand Lighting the fuse might result in a bang, with a bang-go!

I came right up to him, singing the words to him, wanting to catch his attention and drag him to the dance floor with me. I didn't care if he wants it or not, he better come with me. The dude was really impressed and started laughing, but I took his hand in mine and pulled a bit for him to get up. He threw a quick glance at the Bartender, who nodded and laughed at us. The dude gave up and followed me. We somehow appeared to be at the very center, dancing and jumping like crazy. We sang the entire chorus at the top of our lungs, pointing at each other and dancing like robots. He did it hilariously and I couldn't stop laughing.

Oh there ain't no love no, Montagues or Capulets Just banging tunes 'n' DJ sets 'n' Dirty dancefloors and dreams of naughtiness!

He played his imaginary guitar and banged his head like he was actually playing the song at some gig and I was pretty taken aback how rockstar-ish he looked at that moment. He sang "dreams of naughtiness" way out of the range and was looking at me while I was imitating thrusts with my hips and we fell to our knees laughing right after.

When the song ended we were absolutely out of breath, but both of us smiled widely. As we proceeded to the bar, a slow song started playing. The dude stopped for a moment, bit his lip and offered me his hand.

Do you know what it feels like to dance alone? Do you know what it feels like?

I looked at him with zero understanding what's going on but placed my had in his open palm. He dragged me gently back to the dance floor.

His hand was on my waist and it felt very comfortable. At the moment I felt like we know each other for eternity, not less, and I still didn't know his name. He organically moved us both, whispering the lyrics in my ear, spinning me around, holding my hand, looking me in the eyes. He smelled like a very expensive cologne, cigarettes and a bit of healthy sweat - an unforgettable combination to be embraced in.

When the lights are turned too low for me In the dark I feel you close to me You're the one that I want to see

At this point we were barely moving, my hands around his neck, his hands on my waist; we just looked each other in the eyes, trying to find something we're missing… The song was just about to end when we both rushed forward a bit and split our dancing hug awkwardly. We proceeded to the bar and I finished my cocktail looking for an explanation to what happened. I closed my eyes, capturing those moments we shared with that strange man in my mind. Finally, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes to catch a look from the Bartender. In a slight haze, I turned around searching for the dancing dude, but he vanished without a trace, although he was right by my side a minute ago. Disappointed, I asked for a receipt, paid and went straight out.

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tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Anyway, here’s info about my MCs for @shepherds-of-haven. I think I dropped enough hints in my Lovelace Day fic to connect who's who.

Name: Erigeron Keernyth / Nickname: E / Callsign: Rimefrost

Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him / Sexuality: Pansexual

Age: 26 / Heritage: Elf / High Stat: Nerves of Steel / Low Stat: Bright Mind

Weapon: Dagger / Specialization: Elementalist / Education: Circle trained

Tarot: The Emperor / Wreath Day: Ashar 17

Description: A tenacious, self-assured Mage who desires nothing more than vengeance against evil. Tall and muscular, he wears a sardonic face until there’s word of an Endarkened. Then, his green gaze fills with delighted bloodlust before his silver-crowned head disappears out the door.

Fragments from the past:

Climbing up to the treehouse in Vale, letting his legs dangle over the side and kick out at nothing in particular

Bedding down for the night in a dense part of the woods, huddled with his clanmates for warmth and safety

The aftermath: a vow made on the blood he angrily spit through his teeth

Sharpening his dagger in a leaky tent and counting down the days to the end of this job, while the bigoted noble he was escorting snored incessantly in a cushy wagon

The first time he killed an imp, how easy it was to render the limbs apart, and the frustration that it wasn’t enough to make him feel better, that he needed to be even stronger

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Zoegea Keernyth / Callsign: Diamond

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Straight

Age: 24 / Heritage: Elf / High Stat: Razor Wits / Low Stat: Nerves of Steel

Weapon: Gun / Specialization: Shifter / Education: Circle trained

Tarot: The Lovers reversed / Flower Day: Loa 22

Description: A withdrawn, evasive Mage who is fixated on a dangerous pursuit. Svelte and poised, she has a calculating hazel gaze. Curling ashen tresses are drawn into a high ponytail, nearly to her waist, and out of the way when she’s experimenting with substances beyond her control.

Fragments from the past:

A quiet glade, on a detour the caravan took one summer, but she’s never been able to find it since

Eavesdropping on Elvish conversations, picking up tidbits of gossip and information, mostly for her own amusement

The aftermath: the last time she allowed herself to be horrified, grasping for logic and finding none

Her familiar dorm room in the Circle, the drawers filled with scribbled notes in a cipher of her own devising, desiccated roses, and the wrought leftovers of one project after another

The cold gaze of that smith whose doorstep she haunted for a few weeks, warning her never to get too close as metal scraps were tossed her way

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Kalmia Metella / Callsign: Serenity

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Demisexual

Age: 21 / Heritage: Hunter / High Stat: Razor Wits / Low Stat: Silver Tongue

Weapon: Bow / Specialization: Healer / Education: Self-taught

Tarot: The Lovers / Flower Day: Ysk 10

Description: A gentle, sensitive Mage who struggles with a definitive place in the world. Waves of dark hair, except for a streak of pure white, cascade down her back and contrast with intense violet eyes. Despite a soft-spoken exterior, she demonstrates a surprising willpower under pressure.

Fragments from the past:

Her childhood bedroom, only adorned with some bundled flowers and herbs that her mother taught her how to dry

After the funeral, Father explained she’d be alive for so much longer than everyone else in Maj would, and his face blurred in a flood of anguished tears

The aftermath: uncontrollable shivering in despair, fearful stumbling in the darkness, wondering if she was going mad

His sticky voice and stickier touch, but at least, all that’s left are memories and those can’t hurt anyone else

The Sweetleaf Shop in Leore, the kind voices of the women living there, the earthy scents of freshly made tinctures, words of comfort and perseverance

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Linaria Enris / Nicknames: Lin, Lina (I recognize the irony and I’m so sorry, if it helps it’s with a short i) / Callsign: Insight

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Straight

Age: 21 / Heritage: Ket / High Stat: Bright Mind / Low Stat: Razor Wits

Weapon: Sword / Specialization: Enchanter / Education: Self-taught

Tarot: Justice / Flower Day: Leph 40

Description: A sincere, empathetic Mage who yearns for a greater purpose. Her plain brown hair is fluffed around her ears and over almond-shaped eyes the color of chocolate. An earnest worker, she usually has a thoughtful, polite expression, but her laughter can be heard easily too.

Fragments from the past:

Lighting candles by the windows and reading quietly, keeping vigil for Dad until his rough palm awkwardly patted her head

Trying to do chores the way Mom used to, hoping to prove she can take care of the house on her own, no need to worry

The aftermath: essentially catatonic, until dawn came and she realized how cold she was

A bookseller’s stall, of incense and a sour voice complaining about his arthritis and insisting she keep the books he’s stolen, until he abruptly fired her for reasons she still doesn’t know

Scribe jobs in later years, her hands cramped and smeared with ink, her smile fixed on even as she received only a fraction of what she was owed

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Gentian Arke / Callsign: Messenger

Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him / Sexuality: Demisexual

Age: 27 / Heritage: Ket / High Stat: Silver Tongue / Low Stat: Razor Wits

Weapon: Sword / Specialization: Binder / Education: Self-taught

Tarot: The Hermit / Wreath Day: Kthili 24

Description: A reserved, considerate Mage who hides deep-seated guilt behind a soft smile. His long locks are mistaken for black unless in full sunlight, where it reveals its bluish sheen. The sea is reflected in his kind gaze, and his agile build has been wracked with battle scars over the years.

Fragments from the past:

Running along the shoreline, feet splashing in the retreating waves and a salty breeze in his face, without a care in the world

Joking around with his cousins, winning gonen games, and fishing for the best catch

The aftermath: broken and hollow and worthless

That one time he had to crossdress in a ploy to retrieve his captain’s long-lost trinket from a gambling tournament and his alias became known as a devastatingly infamous heartbreaker, much to his eternal embarrassment

Fighting corsairs on rain-slick decks or bandits on the mail routes, numbly pondering over just giving up someday, but never managing to do it

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Alcea Keernyth / Nicknames: Als, Alci / Callsign: Lacewing

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Bisexual

Age: 22 / Heritage: Elf / High Stat: Bright Mind / Low Stat: Nerves of Steel

Weapon: Dagger / Specialization: Conjurer / Education: Circle trained

Tarot: Wheel of Fortune / Flower Day: Camoa 35

Description: A bubbly, affectionate Mage who has an appetite for anything interesting. She often dashes to her current destination, wherever that may be, leaving the impression of flying golden chin-length curls. Her gray eyes sparkle with curiosity and enthusiasm, never entirely quenched.

Fragments from the past:

Coaxing vividly colored butterflies into her hands, pretending to wear them as if they were jewels

Peeking her head out to take in every sight they passed by, her parents humming traveling songs, lulling her to sleep

The aftermath: immediate denial, it’s all a terrible dream

The library in Capra, thumbing through so many books and cursing that she wasn’t an inch taller to reach some of the higher shelves, eventually stacking the fattest tomes she’d already gone through as makeshift stairs

A trio of ragtag burglars, barely into their teens, rummaging through some noble’s room, while she kept an eye out for anyone who’d throw them back into jail

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Valeriana Stiln / Nickname: Valia (only if you earn it) / Callsign: Exacter

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Bisexual

Age: 23 / Heritage: Norm / High Stat: Nerves of Steel / Low Stat: Silver Tongue

Weapon: Bow / Specialization: Battle-Mage / Education: Journeyman

Tarot: Death / Flower Day: Zellea 38

Description: A fearless, practical Mage who nurses a jaded outlook on life. Dark red hair is gathered into a hefty bun more often than not, and long-lashed onyx eyes critically survey everything. She walks with a brisk stride full of intent, her capable hands bearing calluses from labor and old fights.

Fragments from the past:

Mother combing her hair in their morning ritual, “I love this color so much, Valia, you should keep it long”

The poison-dripping fangs of a snake the Westwood kids found in a trough, then its scales spattered with blood as she lifted the nearest axe and chopped it to pieces

The aftermath: repeating no’s, louder and louder, building to a drawn-out scream, until her throat was raw

After so many years, finding some bottles of the cologne Father wore and spending a half year’s worth of her mercenary’s pay, always dabbing a few drops on her wrists and neck

White-blond hair and a tattooed insignia, any tendrils of affection withered by that crystal clear scene of betrayal

Art: Picrew

***

Name: Senna Tulward / Callsign: Guardian

Gender and Pronouns: Female, she/her / Sexuality: Pansexual

Age: 23 / Heritage: Norm / High Stat: Silver Tongue / Low Stat: Bright Mind

Weapon: Gun / Specialization: Diviner / Education: Journeyman

Tarot: Temperance / Flower Day: Coppersun 6

Description: A congenial, faithful Mage who searches for a new place to call home. She has wavy chestnut hair falling a little past her shoulders, and an amiable amber gaze. She typically sports a pleasant, carefree smile, and her statuesque frame is actually very sturdy and athletic.

Fragments from the past:

Singing hymns she knew by heart and clasping her mother’s soft hands in the neighborhood’s temple

Cinnamon and warm honey on her birthday breakfast toast, Father sneaking her an extra slice when no one else was looking

The aftermath: confusion and failed searches, calling out the names of people who would never answer

Magic lessons under a starry sky, her teacher’s careful voice over the melody of crickets, the smell of campfire smoke, her warm sleeping bag

A dry ruin, whirling gritty sands, the sniffling lost little girl and a bleating goat she’s taking cover with, villagers hurling accusations and bullets at her upon their emergence from the storm

Art: Picrew

***

#shepherds of haven #i can't do photoshop so it's just text and picrews #yes they're all named after flowers #at least one good thing about having 8 of them is that they each get a different birth month #i organized them by tarot and then it just ended being organized by picrew as well #high stat low stat is included for how they approach problems and what they can't pull off #and all the combos are unique so i'm happy about that!

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viktormaru · 5 years

Note

Amma be honest my dude, expressions on my characters are always godawful. I can put them in the most interesting pose and their face is just •_•. So please, how do you do that so well.

OKAY, Ive talked briefly about this already but I’ll try going further into detail now. Please bare with my limited english and my limited knowledge as well, but this is a tiny crash course on how I do expressions

OKAY! First of all, I won’t go into detail on how to make sad or happy expressions or anything like that cause I think most people know what a sad or happy face looks like and there are great tutorials out there about it. I’m going a little on the specifics of how I HANDLE expressions.

Whenever I’m about to draw a face I think of a few things: what are they feeling? How intensely are they feeling that? and how comical is that feeling supposed to be to the audience?

And those are important points to see what kind of approach I’m going, here’s an example using the feeling Anger

This is an example of a character feeling anger

This is anger, but even more intense!

This is also very intense anger, but it’s supposed to be comical

Well, what’s the diifference? I think the details that help your expressions have more complexity to them are

1. CREASES AND PLUSHYNESS (i’ll explain)

2. SYMMETRY

3. SIZE

4.EXTRA EFFECTS (again, I’ll explain)

5. CONTRAST

SO!

1.CREASES AND PLUSHYNESS

Your face is a whole sheet of skin slapped over many muscles right (what the fuck), which meaaans that all your features in your face are somewhat connected, meaning that moving one part of your face will pull along other parts if you do it too hard.

Like above, how gai is squinting. His eyebrows are trying to meet in the middle and his eyes are following along with creases underneath. I wanted him to squint so bad I even pulled the mouth up into a pount just so it could meet that tension point as well, which is what that crease near the nose and shadow on the lips is indicating.

Thats one thing I put on smiles a lot too!

Whenever I’m making a genuine happy smile I want to bring the whole face up!!!! So the cheecks get squishy around the lips, I’ll often bring the lips further up into the face, the eyes get all squished up as well and the eyebrows are just shot up, like there something pulling everything up because!! happiness is up! its energy! its high!

Making your faces squishy opens room to try a lot of new things like cheeks puffed up from holding a laughter

or lips getting pulled sideways for a grimmacing expression

or even further down for… god who knows what this one is called

also remember about intensity!! if you go super hard in the creases you can create quite a humurous effect

like.. this is true despair

or go really soft to create a gentle expression

the cheeks are still a little squished and so are the eyes!

BUT THATS NOT ALL, CAUSE NEXT IS

2. SYMMETRY

Symmetry is fun (its not), by assymetry can help you convey even more complexity. Hell, even expression like disgusting or the feeling of superiorty come from assymetrical expressions. So those

smirks are a classic example. Lift one corner of the mouth more than the other, keep the eyebrows assymetrical, you get a smug face.

Or a cocky smirk…

I think they can keep the face interesting and puts a lot of character into a simple face, like, even genuine smiles that are a bit crooked to the side can look cute!

I also sometimes use assymetry to indicate where the emtion is direct towards?? if that makes sense? like, here obito is pouting at minato, directly

his pout is even aimed at him.

Or how in here tsunade’s smirk is already going for the bottle even though she hasnt put it in her mouth yet.

I think assymetry also works for separating part of the face to create strange or scary expressions, if that makes sense. Like, a maniac grin comes from wide eyes, a smile and basically a frown, those things are going in totally different directions in my head, so when they come together

it looks wrong, and thats why it works.

Raising one eyebrow more than the other, squinting one eye more than the other, pulling your mouth to one side or the other,those details make your expression look a little more complex, funny or human depending on how intensely you go at it

3. SIZE

So Okay, we’re human, we can open our mouths and widen our eyes and that will definetely have a different effect on hour our expression is read. But the best part is, we’re drawing expressions here, we don’t have to be limited by actual size restricions when it comes to face features!

SUCH WIDE EYES!

I can also blow a characters pupils to indicate something like

not being focused on whats going on at all

or to fill it with tears

I can also make them look like just dots or a single line to express surprise

or righteous anger?

or fear

You’ll also notice I make the mouths really big in many cases dusahdu

and it kind of ties up with the next topic which is

4.EXTRA EFFECTS

An expression is not the face alone! specially when we’re drawing! Sweat, blushes, blue shadows, those are all features we have at our disposal to help making an expression even more complex, as silly as it can be

This is awe and admiration instead of surprise because of the sparkle in the eyes and the deep blush in the cheeks!

These emotions convey anxiety from the sweat, the eyebags under the eyes, its soemthing a bit painful.

a simple blush can make an expresison contraditory to itself

am i intimidated or turned on?

am i angry or embarrassed?

Adding tears and even messing the hair also help in convey different things as well

and I like sometimes changing the texture of the eye to make expressions too! (like shown on some expressions above as well)

even snot can work

this looks dumb!

so , go ham my friends.

even text can help

LASTLY

5. CONTRAST

this one kinda only works if you either have more than one character or you’re making a comic. sometimes.. humor comes from contrast. Making an expression and then a completely different one can be really good, or changing how much detail goes into the expression, or even a sudden shift in style can have impact.

like going from drawing faces like this

to something like this

Or going from charming to … well

or go the other way around, from not detailed to too detailed

its a lot about trial and erro and having fun with what you have

make dumb faces as you draw them, break the rules a bit, find out what you’re comfortable with, go ham

OTHER NOTES THOUGH:

EDIT: forgot to talk abt this:

Heres some of the parts of the face i think of to make expressions

Eyebrows (how high are they? how close together are they? are they symmetrical?)

Eyelids (closed? open? half open? symmetrical?)

Pupils (dilated? small? shiny?)

Lower eyelids (squished? blown wide?)

Nose (creased on one side? nostrils flared?)

Cheeks (puffed out? pulled up? pulled down? squished? blushing?)

Mouth (This can go many places)

You said you know poses but I’m gonna say this anyway, body language does a LOT to sell your expression or emotion.

a hand unconciously reaching for something

or covering the mouth to convey (fake) innocence

she didnt even say anything but you know she wants to ask something

kunai in one hand, other reaching out, flowers indicating that yes he is happy about it and he will kill for it

hands especially can do a lot for a characters expression so try to always draw them when you can.

I think thats it for now though!!!! Hope it helps

#waffle art #tutorials #long post #oh my god im sorry mobile users ?#Anonymous #holy shit this took me more than an hour to do wHAT

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sloppy-butcher · 5 years

Note

I saw your requests were open,if not I’m sorry :,). But can I get some hcs with Frank,Dwight (Jake and/or Quentin) with a s/o who’s a short curvier artist and is just insecure about themselves and their work? I’m just in sad boy hours rn lmao

please don’t ever feel sorry about sending in an ask

Sorry, it took as long, I can’t help with how much I write. Hopefully, this will help alleviate some of them sad boy hours. I’m going to assume that by “artist” you mean drawing and not like music soooo also im going to assume its a survivor S/O

i love you anon, thank you for the ask and sorry again for the wait

sad boy hours is offically declared OVER

HeadCanons with a short, insecure Artist S/O

The Legion (Frank Morrison)

Frank, in all honesty, doesn’t give a flying crap about how you look. To him, if you can make him laugh or you amuse him in the slightest, he already likes you. The only looks or appearances he does care about are his own, he’s gotta look badass 24/7, no exceptions. But he does like that you are shorter than him (not a lot of people are so you are a rarity). He likes to tease you and put his elbow on your shoulder or head.

“I need my walking stick.” His eyes would trail over to you. Cue you trying to walk around with the boy hanging onto you, grumbling like an old man. You contrasted him exactly to the T

Frank is absolutely fascinated by your artistic abilities. You have a real talent and he enjoys both watching your process and seeing the finished project. Talent like yours was hard to come by, he sort of envied you for it. If only he had that kind of something that made him special that would have made those foster parents interested in him. But that time for developing uniqueness has passed and now, all he has is you.

You shared your talent with him and he felt extremely special when you would ask him what to sketch next. Frank would pull Suzie over and set her up in a position he imagines to be cool. He would pause, inspect Suzie’s bad form then huff and begin to rearrange her limbs until she was just right. “That's nice.” He’d comment over your shoulder. You’d tell him you didn't like being watched like that while you work and he’d sigh and reluctantly shuffle away. Not even 5 minutes later he would be back standing over you. You would just have to deal with him. He wasn’t judging you or your skills rather he just wanted to watch and marvel at how easy you made it look.

“Okay, now give her a huge dick.” Both Suzie and you would gasp. “Frank! No! That's too disgusting.” A moment of silence. “How big?”

Frank noticed right away when you would start to feel insecure. When you would flatly refuse to take out your sketchbook regardless of what ridiculous poses Suzie would make for you. You were quiet, eyes downwards and shoulder slumping as if you were trying to make yourself somehow smaller than you already were. Frank’s by no means an emotional guy but seeing you so downtrodden, so determined to sink into the background really tore at his heartstrings. He would pull you aside, taking you far away from the others until you two were alone. You wouldn’t look at him, your arms wrapped around yourself. “It’s not just the art.” He was guessing but already he knew he was right. You wouldn’t even offer him a nod afraid that by doing so you would be labeled as someone digging for feigned sympathy.

This was so difficult for Frank. He didn’t know how to comfort you or how to make you feel better. He also didn’t understand where this sudden insecurity came from. To him you perfect and talented and such a good person. You had a kind heart which you would share with those around you and that's all he really cared about. You were good to him. He couldn’t think of anything to say so instead he walked closer to you and slowly placed your hand between his. You momentarily looked up at him and you saw his eyes flicker behind his mask. He squeezed your hand, his words failing but his contact and pressure making up for it. He was trying to be reassuring and you appreciated it. He’d only ever hold your hand and that was something to be gratefully for.

In that time alone he asked you to take out your sketchbook. You did and he steps away, releasing one hand from yours. He reaches up and hesitantly takes off his mask. “Draw me.” You were stuck, in awe of his face and the significance of this moment. Frank never takes his mask off, not completely anyway. This must really mean something to him, YOU must really mean something. A wave of unsureness washed over you and you lost all confidence in your skill. He saw you slip away again and he squeezed his hand. “Hey.” He makes you look at him, his face gentle and his attention focused solely on you. “I believe in you. You are good. You got this.” And that's all you needed to hear. You got the feeling that he was talking about more than just your drawing skills. If he believed in you then everything was okay. You were alright. “Besides. It can’t be worse than the original.”

Dwight Fairfield

Like Frank, Dwight doesn't really care about your outward appearances. Well, it's not that he doesn't care it’s more that he just in a constant state of shock that anyone at all is interested in him. He’s always amazed when you sit next to him specifically or when you want to talk to him and actually listen to what he says. No one has ever really given him that kind of attention before and now you’re here beside him eagerly wanting to hear how his day was or what he was feeling. Dwight was just grateful to have someone as kind and loving as you were to even notice him.

He was beyond blown away by your artistic talents. You can sketch killers from memory and Dwight always finds himself in awe of how detailed and accurate the drawing was. You were so creative and special, the thing he was never. He looked to you and saw everything he could never be or never was. But you didn’t shove your achievements in his face, you didn't flaunt your talents like some egotistical morons would. You were humble and his compliments never went straight to your head. You looked so good when you were kind and modest. He liked how ordinary you were regardless of how awesome you appeared to him.

You’d often ask to draw him and he would blush and look away. Why would you want to draw him? The most boring of all the other survivors. But you were insistent and eventually, he’d cave. If only you had a red pencil because his cheeks were always hot and flushed. He could never make eye contact with you while you worked on him so expect a lot of side profiles or closed eye portraits.

In trials together his heart would all but break at the sight of you getting hurt. Whenever he’d hear your cries as you’d be slammed onto a meat hook he would gasp and practically feel something inside him cry out along with you. You were too good for this. He was a nobody, a weak, pathetic nobody who deserved to be in this purgatory because he was too scared to try and live a normal life. This was his punishment for being so forgettable. But you... he just couldn’t understand it.

Once he had jumped between you and your pursuer taking the hit and aggression while you ran off to go heal. For once in his life he felt happy, he felt as if he had finally done something meaningful and good. He had saved you. He would have died for you as well but you never let that happen. He watched in utter shock and disbelief as, against all odds, you went back for him. You pulled the man off his hook and with shaking hands you pressed his head into yours. Both your foreheads with touching and you had your hand at the back of his head.

“Don’t ever do that again.” He felt you waver and suddenly he realized that you were scared for him. He felt your urgency and terror and it was all directed towards him and his safety. He could have cried.

Dwights not the brightest bulb in the pack so forgive him but it will take a while for him to realize that you were insecure. He just assumed that when you started isolating yourself from him that it was because you had found someone much better than him. But he noticed that your hands still shook whenever you’d see him in pain and you would always be by his side the moment he needed help. You still cared for him deeply and he could feel it through your desperate actions and your desolate expression.

He walked over to your spot at the campfire. No one was near you, all were chased away by your depressing aura. You were dark and dying, everything around you was heavy with despair and sorrow yet he pushed through it all. He clawed away that thick fog and finally came to rest by your side. You didn't even look at him as he approached.

“Y-You don’t draw anymore.” No response. He hesitated unsure of how best to comfort you. He looked over and saw your hands. They were so small and gentle yet they produced such amazing things. He missed seeing you alive as you worked, the happiest you had ever been. He reached out and took your hands in his. This was the most forward he had ever been with you and it caught you by surprise. You turned to face him and you saw pain in his eyes.

“I-I’m sorry.” he paused and looked away, ashamed. “I’m sorry I took so long to notice.”

Dwight really did feel sorry. He felt like he had abandoned you, leaving you vulnerable and alone with the true killer; yourself. This time you felt his hands shake.

Dwight wasn’t much but he was yours and he loves you. And he loved you so much to maybe even make up for your own lack of self-love. You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder. He was enough.

“Please draw me again. I-I promise I won’t look away this time.” How could you refuse him?

Jake Park

Jake’s a simple man. He knows the silence of the world and prefers it to the company of people. So when you start to hang out with him or show interest in his life he is pretty unresponsive. He expected you to eventually lose curiosity in him and leave him alone with the woods. But you didn’t.

You’d follow him around, asking questions and receiving minimal answers. You would ask him what to draw and when you were done he would just glance at the sketch then nod or huff. He was certainly a very difficult and cold man.

You would draw many things for him, be it crows or plants or sometimes even killers. And he would always show an extreme lack of interest in them. So you decide to stop showing him. The two of you would sit in a quiet spot in the woods, you sketching and him wondering why you were still trying so hard to be friends with him.

You were working on a portrait when you were, without warning, whisked off into a trial. You quickly shoved your art into your pocket and set to work trying to escape. Jake was in the trial with you and you gladly worked on gen with him. Minutes later everyone was dying and only 2 generators had been lit. It wasn’t looking so good but the only thing you were worried about was your precious item in your pocket. It was something that you were really proud of and, to be dead honest, it was one of the best pieces of art you had made in a long time. You were afraid to die and lose it. But... it really didn’t look like you were getting out of this one.

You caught Jake in a corner, injured but not making a noise. You approached him and he reached out ready to tend to your wounds. You shook your head and crouched next to him trying to catch your breath. Your hand went into your pocket and pulled out your folded artwork. he eyed it unsure.

“I know you don’t care about my bad drawings but,” you held it out for him to take. “please, this one’s for you.” You quickly ran off, too embarrassed to be there when he opened it.

He was frozen for a moment, confused as to what just happened. He did care about your drawings. You were talented and he really enjoyed when you included him. Why would you think that he wouldn’t like them? He turned his attention back to the paper. With a bloody hand, he carefully unfolded it and was shocked to find a portrait of him. It was so beautiful, delicate lines used to define his face and his far-off expression and for a second he couldn’t believe it was him. It was so well done. How could you be ashamed of showing him this? He loved it. He looked up and saw you run off and his heart run with you. He was suddenly hit with his suppressed love for you. You were patient and kind and your small stature always made him wonder how anyone could hurt something so cute. He escaped that trial along with your picture. He, unfortunately, couldn’t save you.

Later at your spot in the woods, he approached you. He presented your art and you gasped. “How’d you get that!?” You reached out to take it back. “I’m sorry! It’s...” your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He must think you are such a creep, drawing bad pictures of him without his knowledge. You clutched the paper to your chest and felt a wave of hot insecurity flood over you. But Jake never let you drown.

“It’s really good,” Jake said, his voice the most emotional and vibrant it had ever been. “I’m sorry if I never expressed my appreciation of it.” He put a hand on your shoulder. “You’re really good... to me. And,” he paused letting go for a moment and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. Thank you for sticking around.” It wasn’t much but it was the best he could do. There was a deep-rooted honestly in his confession and it pulled at your heart.

It wasn’t enough to make you feel better but it was a start. With Jake, it is a journey of recovery, not a once-off end-all fix. But he was good at consistency and was always there the moment your fears reared their ugly heads. He was warm and solid, grounding both himself and you in the world.

#dbd imagines #dbd headcanons #dbd x reader #dbd frank morrison #dbd dwight fairfield #dbd jake park

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neuxue · 4 years

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: Towers of Midnight prologue (part 3)

Levelling up and last stands

Graendal to Galad, and now Galad to Padan Fain. It’s like alignment whiplash.

The sky was black. A tempest. He liked that, though he hated the one who caused it.

This is great because there’s just a hint of ambiguity to who that actually may be. Rand? Or the Dark One? And when you have to ask, even for a second…well, that’s sort of the point, isn’t it.

Hatred. It was the proof that he still lived, the one emotion left.

Well, that’s one more than Rand at any rate.

(Pre-Dragonmount, I mean).

Padan Fain exists to chew scenery and you know what buddy? Chew away. Live your dreams.

Did his hatred cause that storm? It must be so. Yes.

Sorry Fain; pretty sure Rand has first claim on I am the storm. He just carries it better, you see. It’s a good look on him and we don’t mess with that.

I typo-ed that as ‘it’s a god look on him’ and really… either way.

When you accepted madness into yourself – embraced it and drank it in as if it were sunlight or water or the air itself – it became another part of you.

I’m mostly amused by how similar this sounds to the wording of Egwene thinking of how the Aiel handle pain. In this case I don’t think it’s particularly intentional or meaningful or anything, but it amuses me.

Another part of you. Like a hand or an eye.

Not sure those are the best examples, given Rand and also very likely at some point Mat, but sure.

He was finally free.

Has something changed? Oh, wait. Is this the first we’ve seen of him since saidin was cleansed? And Shadar Logoth destroyed? I think it is, in which case… interesting. Particularly interesting since it doesn’t seem to have affected the dagger’s power – Fain’s still obsessed with his precious, at any rate – and last we heard Rand’s wound(s) hadn’t healed. But Shadar Logoth was destroyed, and its power seemingly with it, more or less, and so now Fain or Mordeth or Smeagol or whoever he is these days is free, in a manner of speaking. That’ll end well for everyone involved, I’m sure.

Oh he killed a worm. And he’s in the Blight so that’s a Worm. Im…pressive?

Mist had begun to trail him, creeping up from the ground. Was that mist his madness, or was it his hatred? It was so familiar. It twisted around his ankles and liked at his heels.

Like a yellow fog, that rubs its back upon the window panes, a yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window panes, licks its tongue into the corners of the evening…

No? Or perhaps like, say, Mashadar? I mean, maybe it’s nothing, but if it’s not nothing, that’s… concerning. Were more things freed than Fain, in the ruination of Shadar Logoth? Open to give the world hope but did it also release some element of despair?

The mist struck.

And unless we’ve transported into one of Sanderson’s original works, that means I’m right and the cleansing of saidin did indeed have some… unintended consequences. Which is fitting, in a grander sense of balance, but still kind of… well, sad.

So Fain has levelled up again, it would seem, which is the outcome absolutely no one needed.

That said, he played enough of a part early on, and enough has been made of him from time to time afterwards, that it would be kind of weird to leave him out of the ending. Personally I wouldn’t particularly mind; watching him chew scenery is fun enough from time to time but the rest of the time I sort of tend to forget about him, and I’m not particularly invested in anything to do with him, and the slightly more critical side of me wonders if he was ever truly necessary as a character… but at this point in a series, once you have a character like that, dropping them now would feel untidy. It would feel like an oversight, or like lazy plotting.

Which is hard, when everything about him suggests that his entire purpose is to be a wildcard character. He doesn’t have a clear fated role to play in all of this, unless it’s something to do with his link to the dagger and, via that, to Mat somehow.

Instead, he’s a powerful entity on a third side in a two-sided war. Yes, there are far more factions than that within each of those sides, and so much of the point of the last several books has been that lack of unity, and the tragedy but perhaps inevitability of fighting against those who should be your allies, of losing sight of the larger conflict in favour of the smaller and more immediate ones, and of trying to forge some kind of alliance despite that, and the ways in which that can succeed or fail.

But Fain is less a part of that and more a completely outside element. Not, in a way, unlike Aridhol itself was, as it became Shadar Logoth. A darkness and an evil that came from a form of the Light and its hatred of the Shadow and, over time, twisted. And therefore was an evil that was not truly of the Shadow, but was no longer an ally of the Light. Instead it was its own poison.

That’s kind of what Fain is. Which certainly has potential, as a story element, but I am curious to see how that’s played, and how well it’s played, given the sheer volume of characters we’re dealing with, and the size of this conflict, and the many other themes already at play. Can his role, whatever it is, end up feeling satisfying? I guess we’ll read and find out on that one.

Anyway, that was a bit of a tangent, but the point of it was: yes, he’s levelled up, because I think he has to in order to have a hope of having his part in the ending being interesting or satisfying.

Red below, black above. Red and black, red and black, so much red and black.

See, the thing is, I know for a fact that Brandon Sanderson is a fan of Les Miserables, so I am fully justified in humming ‘red, the blood of angry men; black, the dark of ages past….’

Also, Moridin would approve. Of the colour scheme, if nothing else.

And also of the chaos. Some say the world will end in (bale)fire, some say in ice, and Padan Fain says fuck it why not evil killer mist. Less poetic but sure.

(Let’s play a little game called: over the course of the liveblog, how much of an English Literature syllabus do we think I’ve referenced? …on second thought let’s not play that game)

Oh, the Trollocs didn’t die, they just got a Mashadar Makeover and now they’re competing for Malkier’s Blight’s Next Top Abomination.

He left the Myrddraal. It would not rise, as rumours said they did. His touch now brought instant death to one of its kind. Pity. He had a few nails he might have otherwise put to good use.

Perhaps he should get some gloves. But if he did, he couldn’t cut his hand. What a problem.

The thing is, while the style here is very Sanderson, for a character like Fain it actually works pretty well. Which is mainly, I think, because I have long suspected Sanderson has a soft spot for writing characters who are utterly batshit and having the time of their lives with it. Pass the scenery, and the salt. Yum.

Like an old friend. A dear, beloved old friend that you were going to stab through the eye, open up at the gut and consume by handfuls while drinking his blood. That was the proper way to treat friends.

Sure, it lacks the undertone of beautiful horror, and the poetry of Machin Shin whispering about braiding flayed skin, which is in a way a shame. But it conveys the essential message and character, and at least for me, this works well as an example of Sanderson’s approach of not trying to imitate style because that could go so badly, but instead emulating the feel of the story itself. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but here, at least for me, it does.

It's ironic in a way that it’s a similar thing to what he’s done with Mat, but it has the opposite effect. With Mat – I’ve written about this elsewhere, but tl;dr is that I think he read Mat as funny and so tried to write Mat as funny, using his own methods rather than Jordan’s because imitating style exactly is a lost cause, but something very essential was lost in the translation (like the fact that Mat himself isn’t really humorous; it more comes from the contrast of his thoughts with his actions, and his character against the world around him, but I digress again). So he went for ‘convey the same idea through my own methods rather than trying to imitate Jordan’s’ – consciously or subconsciously – and it backfired. But with Fain, he’s taken the same approach – ‘convey a scenery-chewing wildcard who has lost every mind he’s possessed, which is several’ – and this time the same-idea-different-style still gets that across in a way that feels true to character.

Obviously mileage can and will vary on whether or not this works, but for me it’s just an interesting study in how a certain approach or method can succeed or fail depending on exactly how and where it’s applied, and what the cause of that success or failure may be – why it works in one place but not another, and what went right or wrong.

It is, I think, something of a writing exercise if you want to turn it into one. A bit like reverse-engineering an outline from a book you’ve read (I do this often; I realised at some point that I was doing it and then I made a point of doing it deliberately, and it’s super interesting, and for me at least it’s helped me think more deliberately about the structure of a story, and how that can be leveraged for different effects). But thinking about the specifics of what does or doesn’t work for you about the authorship switch – a particular character, or a scene, or the pacing, or the handling of a certain theme, or anything else – and then digging into the specifics of why it works, or doesn’t.

That, for me, has been more interesting than just picking out the differences. Sure, I’ll nitpick, but I prefer not to focus on it, because ‘this is different’ feels… kind of pointless. Of course it’s different. Figuring out exactly what is different, or why it’s different is interesting sometimes. But also figuring out where and how that difference matters or doesn’t is more what I’m trying to get at here. Because some of the differences, I don’t mind. Some, I do. And trying to understand why I mind some and not others has been helpful at least for me in, again, understanding all of those elements of a story or piece of writing better, and thinking about how they could be used or changed or recombined.

But then, I’m the kind of person who likes to take things apart to figure out how they work. And also to overthink every goddamn text I consume.

Still, it’s a fun one if you’re in the market for writing exercises to try whilst in quarantine.

Malenarin Rai. Bold of you to introduce a new POV character in the penultimate book of a series that already has dozens if not hundreds, but that’s WoT for you.

Also it’s a prologue so the rules are different.

Heeth Tower is a weird name. Heeth. But then, I don’t think Sanderson has ever been quite as good with names as Jordan was. And that’s the sort of change I’m not going to get too worked up over. (Also, it was Jordan who gave us Mountains of Dhoom, so I rest my case).

The whistling wind rattled the wooden shutter.

It’s not time for the wind yet; we’re still in the prologue! Wait your turn, wind; chapter one should be here any day now.

Using a Trolloc horn as a paperweight is pretty badass, Malenarin, but Furyk Karede and his human skull wineglass might offer some competition.

I don’t think we’ve spent much – any, depending on where exactly the scene in TPoD’s prologue takes place – time in Kandor outside of New Spring. I guess we’ve got to finish filling in the map now; we’ve only got one book left!

Malenarin’s son is turning fourteen soon, so he might just be lucky enough to get Tarmon Gai’don as a birthday party.

He smiled, setting the Trolloc horn on the note, in case that shutter broke open again. He’d slain the Trolloc who had borne that horn himself. Then he walked over to the side of his office and opened his battered oak trunk. Among the other effects inside was a cloth-wrapped sword, the brown scabbard kept well oiled and maintained, but faded with time.

Typing it out, it’s not even that similar, but reading this my first thought was of Tam al’Thor, pulling out his old trunk and his old sword at the beginning of The Eye of the World, before giving it to Rand as he sets off on his coming-of-age story.

To have a duty was to have pride – just as to bear a burden was to gain strength.

In moderation, though. *Looks pointedly at Rand al’Thor*

I still don’t understand how turning their backs on the Blight to go find the Dragon Reborn to tell him to pay attention to the Blight is a good idea for the Borderland rulers. I must be missing something here and I hope it is eventually revealed to me, because otherwise that is terrible strategy on so many counts.

The only way to go to the fourth level was to climb a narrow, collapsible ramp on the outside of the tower

What could possibly go wrong? I mean, last time we were in Kandor a kid was thrown off a balcony, so…

[Jargen] wore a cord looped around the shoulder of his brown uniform; it bore a knot for each Trolloc he’d killed. There had to be approaching fifty knots in the thing by now.

That’s cute, Rand says, flicking dust off his shoulder Luke-Skywalker-in-The-Last-Jedi style, and flicking some Arrows of Fire off with it to torch another thousand or so Trollocs without breaking a sweat.

But okay, yes, for an ordinary non-protagonist non-Lan in a random guard tower in Kandor, I suppose that qualifies as pretty badass.

The beacons have been lit! Gondor Rena Tower calls for aid!

Pretty sure that’s your cue, Lan.

Or not; Malenarin seems to think it’s his cue to confirm the SOS and start preparing the tower for… bad things, probably.

Seriously, wind, wait your turn.

Of course his son is next on the list of messenger boys to be sent out. Well, it’s a better fate than being thrown off a balcony at least. Maybe.

‘No, we need to send several messengers. Double up. Just in case the towers fall.’

Do you have any uncrowned infant kings you want to send as well? Just checking.

Malenarin let himself feel a hint of relief that his son was one of those riding to safety. There was no dishonour in that; the messages needed to be delivered, and Keemlin was next on the roster.

There is a kind of parallel here – less a parallel, perhaps, than an echo – to Lan. A son sent to safety as a Borderland hold prepares to fall, the sense of a last stand. Because in the Borderlands perhaps that is not so unusual a story, in its way. The Wheel of Time turns.

It was time for Tarmon Gai’don. And looking out into the storm, Malenarin thought he could see to the very edge of time itself. An edge that was not so far distant.

Maybe you should have a dream-chat with Moridin, Malenarin. Maybe it’s just the air in the Blight: gives you nihilist thoughts.

Oh oops, his son wasn’t one of the messengers to go. Because he decided to be all noble and let another boy go in his place, whose mother had already lost four sons. That’s sweet, kid, and it’ll probably get you killed.

Tian, Sanderson? Named after another ill-fated messenger boy in your own works, perhaps?

‘Run down to my office,’ Malenarin said. ‘There is a sword in my oaken trunk. Fetch it for me.’

Aw. Because his son has proven himself a man, three whole days early. Because we’re approaching the end now, and it’s time for everyone to take their last steps into their roles, become who they must be to face that end – whether they’re a protagonist or just some poor doomed kid in a tower in the Blight.

It's something these kinds of snapshot one-off scenes are good for: to show the scope of the story, that it touches everyone, no matter that they’ve never even met Rand or any of the others. And to give this sense of those final steps happening in snapshots like this across the land. The sense of an entire world taking a last deep breath. And so we pause for brief close-ups on the faces of some of the extras stepping onto the battlefield, to illustrate that.

Keemlin’s swearing his version of the ‘kill the bad things until we die or they do’ that every Borderland (and Aiel) nation seems to have, each with its own slight semantic variations.

‘Rise as a man, my son!’

This is no place, or time, for children. Ergo, he can no longer be a child, by simple virtue of being here. Which makes this a rather bittersweet moment; Malenarin’s proud of his son but there’s also this sense that far too many children are having to grow up far too fast in these last moments (and others will never grow up at all – in today’s theme of referencing poetry I like, go check out The Lads in their Hundreds).

They yelled defiance of the Shadow. For a moment, their voices rang louder than the thunder.

I don’t have a lot to say about this except that it’s a lovely image.

Together they turned to face the oncoming Shadow.

Nice knowing you.

Draghkar overhead and Trollocs oncoming, and they’re just a lonely tower waiting to die. I do love a doomed last stand, even if it’s characters I’ve never met before and likely will never see again.

Malenarin was a man of the Borderlands, same as his father, same as his son beside him. They knew their task. You held until you were relieved.

THAT’S YOUR CUE, LAN.

Next (ToM ch 1) Previous (ToM prologue pt.2)

#i definitely did not split up this prologue correctly #oh well it's done now #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #Towers of Midnight

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

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Splatter

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John, Jeff, Lucille

And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief! Two prompts for this one: “Little Virgil & Gordon” from @weirdburketeer and “Virgil trying to teach a brother how to art” from @melmac78

Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved.

Nine year old Virgil eyed the paper in front of him critically. It was almost done, almost perfect. Just one more dab of paint… there. His hand retreated and he nodded, satisfied, before movement caught his eye and reflexes honed by necessity caught questing, paint-covered, fingers as his menace of a younger brother reached out to deface his newly completed art.

“Gordon!” he complained at the five year old, who grinned back at him mischievously. “What are you doing?”

“Painting!” he said gleefully, holding up two hands covered completely in a rainbow of colours. With some despair, Virgil could see that damage had already been done – unsupervised, Gordon had managed quite an impressive array of handprints along the furniture and newly wallpapered walls.

Why was their demon brother unsupervised?

“Scott!” he hollered up at the ceiling.

“Scott’s busy!” Gordon chirped, smearing his paint-smothered hands on the table and narrowly missing Virgil’s completed artwork. It was still too wet to move, and Virgil’s own fingers were paint-smeared and needed a wash before he touched it again anyway, therefore it was – somewhat – simpler to instead relocate the slippery creature he was apparently related to.

“Why is Scott busy?” he asked, hoping said brother would appear and take the five year old away before any more paint ended up where it shouldn’t.

“Homework!” Gordon grinned, flailing his hands around. Globs of paint flew through the air, one landing squarely on Virgil’s nose. He swiped it away irritably, only for Gordon to point and laugh.

He still had paint on his fingers. And now on his face.

“SCOTT!” he yelled, as Gordon giggled insistently. “JOHN!”

“What?” Scott’s voice finally floated down to him, sounding distracted. John, predictably, didn’t answer. His nose was probably buried in a book, rendering him deaf to the world. It wouldn’t be unusual.

“Gordon’s being a pain!” he complained. With Mom and Dad taking Alan for a check-up, Scott had been left temporarily in charge and, in Virgil’s opinion, was doing a thoroughly poor job by shutting himself up in his room and letting Gordon run wild.

“I’m doing homework!” Scott shouted back. “You play with him!”

A door shut upstairs, signalling the end of the conversation. Virgil fumed silently at him for a moment, before realising that Gordon wasn’t giggling any more. He looked around frantically, and found him raising a single, colourful, finger immediately above his finished artwork.

“No!” he snapped, leaping at his brother and forcefully dragging him away. Brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.

“I want to paint!” he declared, emphasising his demand with a sticky finger jabbing at Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s paint!”

Virgil looked at his already paint-covered brother, glared up at the ceiling where his elder brothers had both willingly abandoned him to this fate, and then grinned.

If Scott wanted him to play with Gordon, he would play with Gordon. After all, Scott was in charge and he was just doing as he was told.

“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his paints and taking them over to the kitchen floor, along with some vaguely paint-free paper. “I’ll show you how to finger paint.” Gordon’s ever-present devil’s grin was out in full force.

“I already know how to finger paint!” he declared, splatting his hand down in the vague vicinity of the paper, leaving another colourful mess on the floor. “See!”

“No,” Virgil corrected him, leading him to the sink and washing the worst of the paint off of his hands as best he could. Gordon wriggled, not unhappy with the water, but disappointed to see swirls of colour running down the drain. “First, we need clean hands.” He washed his own as well, using his bigger size to keep Gordon pinned in place until his hands were also acceptable. “And dry ones, otherwise the paint will get too runny.”

The towel was accepted with poor grace, Gordon more interested in slapping wet hands on Virgil’s clothes instead. Virgil persevered, however, and soon had Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, in front of the paper and paint, with clean, dry hands. He sat down next to him, keeping most of the paint out of reach.

Gordon lunged for the paint in reach, dabbing his fingers in with precision until each finger (and thumb) had a different colour on, before he lurched for the paper and slammed them all down at the same time. Virgil winced.

“That’s how babies finger paint,” he protested, looking at the hand prints rapidly forming as Gordon mixed the colours on the paper with abandon. “I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

Gordon looked at the mess on the paper – a purple-brown concoction, for the most part – and then at his fingers.

“Clean your hands again,” Virgil told him, picking up another bit of paper. Gordon wiped his hands vigorously on his clothes – freshly applied, the paint transferred readily to the fabric. “Properly, Gordon. Or no more painting.” The blond menace pouted, but dutifully scrambled onto the stool to reach the sink again.

As the water gushed out of the taps, Virgil placed his clean paper over the mess Gordon had made, pressing down on it carefully and holding it there until he was satisfied the paint had stained it before pulling it away.

The water was still running.

“Gordon,” he said, and with a giggle the boy finally shut off the tap and hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel again before skidding back to his side on his knees. “Look.” He carefully dipped a single finger in the green, before dabbing towards the top of the area. “Leaves!” Gordon’s eyes brightened, and he jabbed a finger in the blue before making swirls at the bottom of the paper.

“Water!” he said. “Look.” A wonky circle took up a hand’s-width of the paper, before a single skinny finger trailed a blue line from it all the way to the edge of the paper, and onto the floor. “A lake with a river!”

Virgil grinned.

“You do the water, I’ll do the plants,” he said, and Gordon nodded enthusiastically. “Look, if you use darker and lighter colours, it looks better.” Finding a dark green and a yellow paint, he dabbed at his green splotches. Gordon watched with wide eyes before smearing a finger with the darker blue and slapping it in the middle of his lake.

“It’s deeper in the middle!” he declared. “Where the fish swim.”

“And brighter at the top, where it sees the sun,” Virgil added, using his yellow to give little highlights to the top of each leaf. Gordon frowned, looking at the paint colours, before taking a little bit of blue and adding some white to mix it together for a pale blue. Virgil added a little more, for better contrast, even though his interference was met with blue paint on his shirt as Gordon pouted, and once the blond was satisfied he added the lighter colour to one edge of his lake.

Then he smeared yellow on his finger and added in small blobs with spikes to both the lake and the river.

“Lots of fish!” he said proudly, before using the orange unbidden to give the spikey blobs darker patches, and then the white for whiter patches “on top!”

Virgil laughed and let him be as he focused on his own leaves, adding in a bright red caterpillar to offset all the greens and blues. Gordon also stole some red for more fish, and green for a frog, and by the time a car could be heard in the driveway, their woodland lake was full of creatures.

At the sound of the car, Gordon froze and looked around, as did Virgil.

The kitchen was a mess, large parts of the floor covered in paint. It was going to take a lot to clean, and Mom and Dad would not be happy. A lithe, paint-covered hand, found the plastic palette of paint and with a Cheshire cat grin, Gordon flipped it face down.

“Whoops,” he said, gleefully. Virgil stared at him in horror, knowing that was one more thing that would upset their parents, before remembering why he’d ended up painting with Gordon, of all the messy creatures.

He grinned back at Gordon and gestured up the stairs. Brown eyes met brown eyes, and a matching look of mischief came over his own face.

“Not our fault,” he whispered. A devious trouble maker already, it didn’t take Gordon long to catch on.

“Scott!” he giggled quietly, and as voices sounded outside the house, Mom and Dad getting out of the car, they crept upstairs and into their bedroom. Paint-covered hands muffled giggles as they sat on the floor and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“SCOTT CARPENTER TRACY!” Dad’s voice boomed out. “GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!” There was a sudden scuffling from the room next door, sounding suspiciously like a chair falling over, before the door opened.

“What is it, Dad?” Scott called.

“I said GET DOWN HERE!” Dad repeated, and Virgil and Gordon had to hold their breath not to be overheard as their eldest brother tramped down the stairs loudly – before the noise stopped suddenly.

“What-” Scott started, only to be cut off.

“Your mother and I were gone two hours, Scott. You promised you didn’t need the neighbours to watch you, so why is the house covered in paint?”

“Virgil was the one painting!” Scott protested. “It’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Not just Virgil, judging by the amount of blue and yellow on the kitchen floor,” Mom interjected. “You were supposed to keep an eye on your brothers, Scott, not hide from them in your room.”

“I was doing my homework!” Scott protested.

“The same homework you told me you didn’t have so you could definitely watch your brothers?” Mom replied, and there was silence. Virgil and Gordon stared at each other, wide-eyed, then jumped as their bedroom door opened.

John slipped in, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, then settled on the floor by the window with his book.

“Get paint on me or the book and I will kill you,” he said firmly. “I am not dealing with Storm Scott.”

Virgil nodded, although wondered why John would come here to escape, then turned his attention back to the altercation downstairs.

“Now, you are going to go upstairs, change into your painting clothes, and then clean this up,” Dad was saying firmly.

“But I didn’t do it!” Scott protested, loudly and furiously.

“Your responsible brothers will be helping you, don’t worry,” Mom told him.

“But why do I have to clean up their mess?” Scott demanded.

“Because this happened while you were supposed to be supervising them,” Dad said. “If you want us to leave you without bringing in the neighbours, you need to start taking responsibility. Now get moving – I can’t start dinner until this kitchen is spotless.”

Heavy footsteps stomped their way up the stairs, and Virgil and Gordon both flinched as their bedroom door slammed open, irate brother glowering at them through puffy red eyes.

Instantly, some of Virgil’s glee at payback for Scott abandoning him to Gordon faded. Even Gordon seemed a little subdued.

“Sorry, Scott,” Virgil said before his brother could start shouting at them. “I didn’t think they’d be that mad at you.”

“Have you seen the state you left it in?” Scott demanded furiously. “I trusted you to keep Gordon busy just while I finished my homework, and then you go and do this? Mom and Dad will never trust me again!” The rest of Virgil’s satisfaction fled, and he looked down at his bedroom floor – and the paint that marred it.

“Sorry, Scott,” Gordon echoed, standing and giving his brother a hug, puppy dog eyes in full force. Scott glared down at him, and Gordon started to sniffle, eyes welling with water.

“Well we’re not getting dinner until it’s cleaned up,” John sighed, slotting a bookmark into his book and laying it on the windowsill. “Yell later, clean now. I’ll help.” So much for not dealing with Storm Scott, Virgil thought.

Scott snapped from wavering at Gordon’s tears, and shooting death glares at Virgil, to fix John with a surprised look.

“You are my favourite brother,” he said, whole-heartedly. “Why did Mom and Dad ever give me more?”

That stung, a little, but then Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair, shook his head at Virgil with a small smile, and headed out the door with the blond boy still attached.

Hoping that meant Scott wasn’t too mad, after all, Virgil followed, finding a smile of his own as Scott realised Gordon was still covered in paint… which meant his own clothes were now covered in paint.

#irrelief #irrelief2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #weirdburketeer #melmac78 #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #lucille tracy #painting #wee tracys #this has not been properly proof read because it's midnight and i should have gone to bed ages ago whoops #ao3/ffn will be posted in the morning probably after some editing #thunderfluff

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zetalial · 5 years

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Random thoughts on differences between 03 and Brotherhood

Wrote this a while ago, and figured why not post it?

I was thinking about the differences between FMA 03 and BH as you do. I’ve seen all sorts of viewpoints on what bits people like from each version and I recall one person mentioning at some point that they didn’t like the third episode of FMA 03, Mother, that much, preferring what’s done in BH. That came as a surprise to me as Mother is one of my favourite episodes and while episode 2 of BH is pretty decent too - the Elrics backstory is interesting - it’s not nearly so powerful to me. That’s fine of course, everyone has their preferences.

They remarked on how BH included Riza’s presence and spent some time with her (including her conversation with Winry) and Mustang, making him far more sympathetic. So they saw it as a bit of a flaw that 03 left these parts out, as Riza and Roy are such important characters to the story and its bad that they aren’t being properly introduced here.

I countered that 03 spent a lot more time fleshing out Trisha and the Elric family and they agreed that this was indeed the case, of course, but that Trisha isn’t a very important character and she’s not exactly hard to understand so spending extra time on her at the expense of Roy and Riza was a bit of a waste (even given the whole Sloth thing).

Anyway, this got me thinking about some of the differences in each series and here’s some thoughts:

03 is more of a character study of Edward Elric where BH shows us Ed’s story. So basically, Brotherhood attempts to show us the important events in Edward’s childhood and show how he became part of the military and how he met people like Roy and Riza, what his relationship to Winry, Al etc is. So we learn that he performed a human transmutation and the fallout of it. It’s already understood that a kid could love their mother so you don’t need to delve into this motive.

In contrast, 03 spends time attempting to show how a person can be driven to the extremes of attempting a human transmutation and the fallout. Therefore, far more time is spent showing Ed’s relationship with his mother, his fear of death, his feelings at having a missing father, his obsessive love of alchemy and how he sees it as a solution to his problems. His closeness to Al is also shown a lot.

So, in BH it is a given that Ed is a person that would perform a human transmutation and we learn all about it where in 03, it attempts to show us how he became this sort of person. Roy and Riza are therefore less important to 03′s character driven tale so their presence is reduced. whereas Ed’s relationship to his mother is vitally important so it’s the focus.

What we do see of Mustang is colder and more distant as we’re basically in Ed’s perspective* and he is wary of him and the military he represents. This establishes the severity of Ed’s choice to join the military which he seems to view with distaste but is determined enough to go through with it anyway, revealing more about the kind of person Ed is through Roy’s presence.

BH presents Roy as more caring, especially with the nice Riza beside him, as this is an opportunity to introduce Roy as a likeable main character. His conversation with Ed about joining the military is more about providing a ray of hope to Ed who is in despair after his great failure - and we see Roy’s own thoughts showing he meant it as a genuinely kind gesture where we’re more in the dark about Roy’s motives in 03. I’d say the vileness of the military is meant to be more of a twist so Ed’s choice is presented as a good, logical thing in BH.

Anyway those are some of my thoughts. There are those who find 03 to be rather slow and that’s probably because it’s more focused on exploring the characters’ - usually Ed’s - thoughts and feelings, rather than letting the story unfold. That’s why you’ll get things like an episode that revolves around a conversation about loss and the idea of equivalent exchange - this contributes nothing to the plot or world-building but seriously helps to explore Ed’s feelings and beliefs. (Not that BH never does stuff like this either but it’s less frequent.) Likewise, there’s more self-contained episodes where the main contribution to the story is about fleshing out Ed’s character and his relationship with Al. They’re very entertaining if that’s your sort of thing but if you’re looking for a great story and an interesting world, 03 will leave you waiting a little longer than you may like. And if you have no interest in Ed as a character, then yeah, I can see it being less appealing.

*Note that we’re not literally in Ed’s perspective but Mustang’s real personality is being held back from the audience at this point to better keep the focus on the Elrics and to give us an idea of how they view him. Mustang’s character is only important in regards to the impact he has on Ed at this point. Later, when the Elrics have become better established, we’ll get a better understanding of Roy inviting you to compare and contrast from what we see here.

#fma #fma 2003 #fmab #edward elric #tl:dr 03 is a character study for Ed and Bh is not #sorry if I made some mistakes with BH - I am not as familiar with it #I hope I don't come across as being unfair towards it as that is not the intention #meta #myposts #there are other differences too naturally #I'd point out greater amounts of moral ambiguity in 03 #which i kinda touched on with how Roy's motives are left less clear #and its themes and focus are different #but the main one for me is Ed's character #which is my favourite thing in 03 #and the reason I adore it #so BH Ed leaves something to be desired for me #heh I ramble quite a bit #long post

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quu-kii · 5 years

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Jake Gyllenhaal Filmography Ranking

My personal ranking of all Jake Gyllenhaal movies from October Sky onwards with some brief thoughts on each of the movies. Honestly the exact number ranking of these movies is probably not super accurate and could be liable to changes, but I tried my best with the ordering.

Amazing Tier (My favorites)

1. Brokeback Mountain - This is such an emotional and heartbreaking movie. I knew it was going to have a sad ending going into it, but still I was not prepared for how strongly it hit me in the feels. And it’s not just the ending that is sad; you can tell that the love between the two leads is doomed from less than the midpoint of the movie, and it keeps going downhill from there. Overall, I think the movie is a perfect tragic love story. As well, there’s this very subtle and natural feeling to the whole movie that is difficult to describe but works really well. There’s just something truly special about this movie that makes me want to place it as the #1 best of Jake’s movies.

2. Nightcrawler - A highly suspenseful movie with an amazing lead performance by Jake as the sociopathic lead character Lou Bloom. Jake is really a big part of what makes the movie great, as he is such a strong focus of it. Lou acts so off, but it’s just impossible to take your eyes off him, and he is so interesting to watch since you keep wondering what he will do next. The other part of what makes this movie great is the writing and dialogue. There are just so many memorable and great lines, especially for Lou. Along with these factors, the subject matter of the movie, that of the career of selling violent news footage to news stations, is pretty unique, and there are some interesting ideas and themes in the movie as well relating to success and the news media. Overall I really love this movie. If there’s one thing I would say I might not like about the movie, it is the music. It can have an uplifting and hopeful vibe in dark scenes, which lessens the tense mood of some scenes. But I understand that the music was made to reflect Lou’s mood in the scene, which is a very interesting decision in itself and helps add to Lou’s character, since you can notice the contrast between how disturbing the scenarios he is in are and how Lou himself feels in such scenarios. So I at least admire the music for this aspect.

3. Enemy - A tense and psychological movie. I really love the heavy and surreal atmosphere of this movie, added to by the yellowish filter which is present throughout the whole movie as well as the score, which is ominous and used to amazing effect in the movie to enhance the dark mood. Also, I think this movie is both enjoyable when taken in at face value, being about a man who finds that there is a doppelganger of himself, and when looking deeper at what the “real” story is, taking into account the symbolism and various small details placed throughout the movie. It’s an interesting movie to think about due to its openness to interpretation. And lastly, Jake does a great job playing the two lead characters in the movie; despite the characters looking the same, they give off quite a very different vibe.

4. Spider-Man: Far from Home - My favorite MCU movie. I love so many things about this movie: how it deals with the aftermath of the Blip in a light way, how it deals with Peter Parker’s character after Endgame and his desire to just be able to have a normal life, the overall story, the setting being Europe and having this fresh vacation feeling, the fight scenes, and of course Mysterio. Along with this, it has great music (especially Mysterio’s theme) and probably the best mid credits and post credits scenes in the MCU due to their plot relevance. All of the characters are very likeable too, from Peter and all his classmates and teachers to others like Nick Fury and Mysterio, which is important to me since likable characters is one of the most important aspects to me in any kind of story. This movie was such a pleasant surprise after Endgame, which was a great disappointment to me. Also, this movie is special to me because it’s how I discovered the awesomeness of Jake and thus indirectly the reason why I watched all his movies and made this list in the first place. I’m not sure if a future MCU movie can top this for me, but who knows.

Great Tier

5. Nocturnal Animals - A harsh movie with an interesting structure of having two main stories, with one of the stories being a story within the main story (I will call this story the 2nd story for brevity). I think the 2nd story is where the movie really shines. This story was so tense and much more interesting to follow compared to the main story, and Jake portrayed the emotions of anguish and despair so well in it. It’s also interesting to think about how the 2nd story links with the main story, which gives more depth to the overall story of the movie. I find this and Brokeback Mountain to be the most emotionally harrowing of Jake’s movies, which is definitely a compliment since I admire when a work is able to make me feel so strongly. Also, I have to note that I disliked that there was a random jumpscare in the middle of the movie. It doesn’t lower my opinion of the movie, but I really don’t like jumpscares and did not expect one in this movie.

6. Source Code - A really solid sci-fi movie about Jake’s character repeating through a time loop. It is the only Jake movie to make me cry due to me being a sucker for tragic scenarios involving time loops/parallel worlds. It was just a very engaging movie to watch due to the intriguing premise and the very good execution of said premise.

7. Zodiac - I didn’t know that this movie was based off true events until almost the end of it. So the whole time, I was expecting there to be a conclusive ending when there was no way this would be the case, since the Zodiac killer case to this day hasn’t been solved. Because of this, I felt initially disappointed about this movie from a story perspective, since all the clues from the movie seemed to lead to nothing. This is my biggest “flaw” about the movie (and it’s not really the movie’s fault), but this factor aside I really liked this movie. Jake, RDJ, and Mark Ruffalo are all great in it, and I love murder mysteries so much, so the story had me hooked on this alone. It’s so interesting to watch the characters piece together clues for the case and try to unravel the mystery, as well as seeing how the case progresses (or well, doesn’t progress at times) over the years. Also, this movie just feels really good to watch; as in, the scenes and shots flow together so well. It’s a great movie overall I think.

8. The Sisters Brothers - A western with a kind of laid back feel to it. Also supposedly it is a comedy, but I found it not funny at all. It’s not that I see the movie attempting jokes and find that they don’t work; it’s more like I don’t see the attempt at humor at all, unless maybe it’s kind of a weird dark humor thing. Anyways, I really like this movie, and it’s mostly because I really like the main four characters and their dynamics with each other. Jake does a great job playing his character John Morris and has an accent which is pleasant to my ears, though I was sad that he (as well as Riz Ahmed) wasn’t in the movie more. Even though I was watching the movie for Jake, I found myself liking John C. Reilly’s and Joaquin Phoenix’s characters, the two leads, a lot as well. It’s a movie that shines because of the characters for me.

Very Good Tier

9. Donnie Darko - A pretty unique coming of age story with sci-fi elements. I’m still not sure what to think of this movie, though I think I liked it. Some of my favorite scenes are where Donnie goes off on these rants about what he believes to be the truth. These scenes are amazing to me.

10. Prisoners - I actually find the story of this movie to be not that great. However, what elevates the movie is Hugh Jackman and Jake and their amazing performances. Funnily enough, I found myself siding with Hugh’s character and against Jake’s as they both simultaneously tried to solve the case. Also, this movie is just really exciting and engaging to watch and is maybe one of the easiest to recommend movies on this list due to these factors.

11. The Day After Tomorrow - This isn’t a very deep movie or anything, but it’s a really solid disaster flick in my opinion. I love the visuals, and Jake is such a cutie in this movie, a factor that really elevates it for me.

12. The Good Girl - It looked like a comedy or something from the outside, but actually this is a rather bleak movie. It’s one of the duology of the Jake-being-into-older-married-women movies (and the much better of the two for me). I find this movie pretty underrated.

13. October Sky - It’s an uplifting and inspiring movie, and I love how Homer’s relationship with his father is portrayed here.

14. Okja - I love the stylized vibe of this movie. Jake isn’t in the movie that much, but I really like every time he shows up. He goes full wacky here and it’s fun to watch.

15. Brothers - Tobey Maguire is the real star here. I think he was great in the movie and I could really feel the emotions of his character, especially after he comes back from the war and is in a troubled state of mind.

16. Stronger - A good based on real life movie about a survivor of the Boston Marathon Bombing. Jake does a great job as usual, and I think the emotions of the story came through well.

17. Wildlife - A really simple and subdued story about a family, but I think it works well in the movie. It has a very quiet and natural feeling to it.

Ok Tier

18. Demolition - A quirky feeling movie about a guy trying to deal with the death of his wife. The scene with Jake dancing in the city is my favorite part. Also I thought Jake’s friendship with the kid in the movie was a highlight.

19. Bubble Boy - It's kind of a dumb movie with some maybe offensive humor, but I thought it was pretty enjoyable regardless. Jake is so adorable as the main character Jimmy, and it was fun to follow his journey across the country and seeing all the interesting characters he meets.

20. Proof - I thought it was pretty good, but then the movie ended just when I thought it was starting to ramp up the story to the conclusion. This factor brought the movie down for me.

21. Life - The monster design for this movie was pretty cool, and I liked the ending and the general space horror vibe. However, I didn’t feel much for any of the characters.

22. Everest - It was ok, but I wasn’t really into any of the characters here.

23. Southpaw - I think this movie is very impressive for Jake’s resume, considering how he trained a lot and learned boxing for it. However as a movie itself, I didn’t really feel much for it and felt like it wasn’t doing much special in the story department. I liked some of the parts in the earlier half though.

24. End of Watch - I just wasn’t feeling this movie. Maybe it was the found footage style or something. I feel a bit sad about not digging this movie since I see it is generally one of the more well liked ones in Jake’s filmography.

25. Jarhead - I really don’t like the vulgar tone throughout this movie, but I do like the general story and message. Also the movie looks really good.

Not That Great Tier

26. Velvet Buzzsaw - I love Jake’s character Morf so much as well as the general premise. However the movie itself wasn’t too great: I found most of the characters besides Jake’s to be unlikable, and also the movie felt cheap. It’s very disappointing since the concept for the movie (horror in an art gallery) seems so promising.

27. Prince of Persia - This was the first Jake movie I saw back in the day around the time of its theater release. I have to say I find this to be Jake’s weakest acting performance out of all his movies. For me, good acting is when the actor feels very natural as the character and is somehow magnetizing to watch. But for some reason I did not get a very natural vibe from Jake as Dastan in this movie. I do think he looks very beautiful in this movie though with his long hair, so that’s a big plus. The story of this movie feels pretty cliché and kind of lifeless in a way, but I still liked it alright.

28. Highway - I don’t really like the sleazy tone of this movie. However, I think Jake is very adorable in this movie and has this pure wide-eyed vibe about him (despite him being a drug dealer and sleeping with prostitutes and such).

29. Rendition - I found this movie to be aggressively boring for the most part. There’s this subplot which I was unsure why I should even care about until a reveal near the end of the movie, when it was too late to start caring at all. However Jake in a bloody shirt towards the beginning of the movie makes for some good screencaps and gifs, and I learned about the term extraordinary rendition through searching about it after the movie.

30. Moonlight Mile - I guess this movie might be considered technically good because it tells the story it sets out to do fairly well, but I just found it very boring. There is a part towards the end with Jake’s character being very emotional which I really liked.

31. Lovely & Amazing - It's actually decent, but really not my type of movie. It’s the 2nd of the duology of the Jake-being-into-older-married-women movies.

Just No Tier

32. Accidental Love - I actually enjoyed the beginning parts of this movie (though what’s with the constant dutch angles in the earlier parts?), and ironically it is around the point of the introduction of Jake’s character where I felt like it started to nosedive. I felt my soul slipping away and my IQ dropping by the end of the movie.

33. Love & Other Drugs – I really, really don’t like this kind of raunchy sex comedy movie. That’s all.

#jake gyllenhaal #text #brokeback mountain #nightcrawler #enemy #spiderman far from home #nocturnal animals #source code #zodiac #the sisters brothers #donnie darko #prisoners

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thepoetoaster · 5 years

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POSSESSED

Baltimore, Maryland October 2019

Chapter 1.

The rain was sobbing uncontrollably and inside I felt the same. Everything was grey and bleak except for the colorful neon screensaver of my phone that lit up every time Matt texted me. I never meant to become reduced to this state of sadness, loneliness and despair.

But every time I stepped outside the revolving door of the hotel I was living in, whatever energy reserves and hope I had mustered up in my solitude rapidly depleted and I felt like throwing myself into the harbor. Not that I ever would, but looking around at the society which I became increasingly more isolated from, that was how I felt.

My name is Michaela. I’m 28 and work as an investment advisor for a prestigious bank over the internet. That’s my daytime personality, anyways. The way I pay the bills. Deep inside I know I am an artist, a spiritualist, but that part of me only comes out in very rare circles.

It seems as if my life is always separated by a sense of polarizing contrast, eternally opposing forces. There is the daytime version of myself I show to the world; successful, smart, kind. There is a hidden part that is much more sinister. I feel a sense of cynical animosity towards the human race and society regularly. I express this through the art I never show anyone except my friends on the Other Side.

Yes, I am a spiritual medium, although not professionally. It started in my childhood when I realized I was not like the other children. While they played kickball and dolls, I wandered into the woods alone, talking to my imaginary friends who I later realized were so much more than imaginary. How did I know this?

Well, sometimes they told me things that they knew about this life - things that I nor any mortal would have anyway of knowing if not for some supernatural power intervening. And their words always turned out to be true, so I learned to trust the voices in my head that were so much more than just voices.

And what great friends they were! I found the spirits kinder, wiser, and more understanding than the mortals who were caught up in trivial things like gossiping and sports. Most of them, anyways. There were the rare beings I became close with that always kept my head above the Earth somehow. Always the eccentrics, the strange ones. They were the only ones I found interesting, who improved upon the sweet stillness of my solitude.

One such person was my friend and lover, Matt. Although lately, I must say the relationship has been leaning more towards friendship — the romantic parts of our life are rather complicated. For starters, he’s been married to another woman for years, although their relationship is turbulent and he’s very quick to come to me for comfort when things don’t go his way.

But oh, how I adore him! He is dark, mysterious, intelligent, not to mention handsome. He is one of the few people on this Earth that I connect with and we have an explosive chemistry. But I always get the sense that there’s something missing between us, that there’s something that’s just not right. I can’t stand the fact that he always chooses his wife over me, like I’m some kind of afterthought and not worth the same love and attention as she is. But I tolerate it, because I have I no one else — and look forward to his text correspondences vehemently, as he is a light in my dark, oftentimes seemingly hopeless world.

In the present, I’m sitting in the armchair in my hotel room that overlooks the city streets, drinking hot ginger and lemon tea while reading “Favorite Poems of Emily Dickinson”. I’m waiting for Matt to text back, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t hear from him until 2 in the morning, at which point I will be fast asleep.

I prefer hotel living for many reasons. Mainly, I can never seem to make myself settle down in any one place. My work as an investment banker is done mainly over the internet except for the rare face-to-face meetings with customers and company business trips. So when I’m not working, you could say I’m something of a vagabond, always traveling from city to city, making my home wherever the wind takes me.

I love the cleanliness and orderliness of hotel living; the permanently fresh sheets, the modern decorations, the shampoo and conditioner samples. It reminds me of a comforting time in my rather difficult childhood, in which a house fire forced my family into staying at a Holiday Inn for several weeks. I relished the experience, sharing a room with my twin brother, and have very fond memories of continental breakfasts and jumping from bed to bed, pretending the floor is hot lava.

In my current room there was a portrait of a lovely, hefty singer perched above the desk where I do my work. I suddenly wished I had her life and started to feel very lonely all of a sudden, looking out my window at all the people walking down below, in groups of friends or with a romantic partner. Although I despised the society, at times I felt almost envious of the way others seemed to fit in and find their place so easily. I was forever a misfit, alone in a universe of my own making with no one there to listen to my innermost thoughts.

Except for the spirits, that is.

I grew weary of the feeling and reached for my Ouija board to see who was available to talk. Normally it was one of my main 3 friends - Claire, Stephen or Sharon. We did have other visitors come through at times, however. Today was one of those times.

I took the board out of the box, put it on my lap, and when I placed my fingers on the planchette it started moving almost immediately to spell out the words “HELLO LOVE”.

“Well, hello love to you to,” I said, “and who may I ask am I speaking with?”

“DAMIAN,” it said.

“Hi Damian! I’m Michaela,”

“I KNOW,” he said, “SILENT MODE”

“What?” I replied, and at that moment I received a text from Matt.

“NEXT,” said Damian, “HE’S A FUCKBOY,”

“Um, I’m sorry? Matt and I are very close friends,” I said, although he did have a point.

“NEXT,” he repeated, then “PICK ME INSTEAD.”

And against my will I felt a warm sensation rising up from my stomach to my chest to my cheeks.

That very same moment, there was a loud knock on the door. “Housekeeping!”

“Oh, okay! One moment,” I responded, suddenly needing some air. I put the board back in the box and slid it under the mattress before quickly slipping on my my shoes and raincoat for a stroll through the gloomy Baltimore streets.

“What r u doing?” The text from Matt read.

“Going for a walk - hbu?” I responded

“Let’s meet at Gangster Vegan,” he said, and I replied with an “OK - see you in 10” and began the journey by foot through the harbor and into historic Federal Hill.

The whole time I was walking, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Damian’s presence. In fact, I could have sworn I felt fingers lovingly grazing the back of my neck; a light whisper in my ear.

When I got to to the all natural vegan eatery, Matt was unsurprisingly yelling at the cashier.

“What do you mean you don’t carry Spirulina!? What kind of establishment is this?!” The poor cashier gave me a look of utter desperation and I took that as my cue to jump in.

“Matt! Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you!” He turned around and the anger on his faced appeared to soften, but only a fraction.

“Oh, Michaela, what a relief to see someone with half a brain,” he snapped, turning around to give the cashier a dirty look, who looked thoroughly annoyed.

“Okay, let’s get out of here…,” I replied and we started walking through the city streets that were lit up by neon lights.

Before I could even begin to strike up a conversation, Matt suddenly stopped walking on the sidewalk to read a text message from his wife, Cindy. “GOD DAMN IT!” He shrieked.

“What is it?”

“THAT BITCH!” He dramatically kicked a fire hydrant, stubbing his toe in the process.

What is wrong with him? I heard a voice clearly whisper in my head.

“HOW DARE SHE!”

“Are you okay, Matt?”

“NO, I AM NOT OKAY!” By this point everyone else on the street had their heads craned to witness the spectacle that was his meltdown.

“Deep breaths, Matt…”

“It’s Cindy,” we started walking again by the harbor, “we were supposed to meet at her apartment later tonight,”

I thought he was coming home with you? The voice whispered.

“I thought you were coming back to the hotel with me?” I said

“Michaela,” he said and turned to me, “you know I love you as a dear friend, but Cindy is my wife. And we were supposed to meet tonight, and she canceled on me because she HAS PLANS WITH HER FRIENDS.” He looked exasperated. I just stared and looked at him silently, not knowing how to reply.

“Well… maybe she really does have plans with her friends?”

“Oh no, Mickey. No. She’s fucking some other guy. I just know it.”

The hypocrisy is unbelievable! The voice said.

“Umm… well, maybe you should just let it go! We can have a great night back at my place…”

“I don’t think so. I’m gonna let this whore have a piece of my mind.”

At that moment, his phone mysteriously flew out of his hands and into the harbor.

And I heard that voice laughing in my head.

By that time, we were almost back at the hotel. Matt was just staring there in shock, and I felt similarly. Then he fell to his knees and started sobbing uncontrollably.

“JUST GO, MICKEY…”

I silently obliged and walked back to my room, suddenly drained by Matt and his shenanigans. As my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep almost immediately. In that brief state between wakefulness and dreams I swore I felt Damian’s arms around me.

Chapter 2.

I woke up early, around 6:30AM, to the sound of my phone ringing - it was an unknown caller.

“Hello?” I answered groggily.

“Hello, Baltimore Police. Is this Michaela Young?”

“Yes,” I replied, a wave of worry washing over me, “what is it?”

“It’s about Matthew Gregory. He was found dead in the harbor last night.”

A wave of shock and disbelief washed over me and I heard that voice in my head, laughing maniacally.

“Oh my god,” I said, speechless.

“We’re going to need you to come down to the station immediately,”

After I got back from the station, I collapsed on my bed, emotionally exhausted. I decided to turn to my ouija board for comfort from my friends from the spirit world.

HELLO, MY LOVE, the board spelled out almost instantly.

“Is this Claire?” I asked.

DAMIAN, it spelled. I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU.

“I’m very upset, Damian. My friend and lover Matt was found dead in the river this morning. They ruled it as a suicide but I’m not so sure. He was erratic but I don’t think he was suicidal.”

I’M SURE HIS WIFE IS UPSET, he said sarcastically.

By this point tears were streaming down my face. “That doesn’t help!” MATT DIDN’T KNOW YOU, he said, NOT LIKE I DO.

“What do you know about me?” A small gleam of hope flickered in my heart like a lighter. Was it possible that there was an entity in this universe that was capable of understanding me?

This is easier, said the voice I thought I had been imagining before.

I know much about you, Michaela…

“Like what?” I asked.

You’re a financial advisor by day, but it’s slowly eating away at your soul. You’re an artist - deep down, you know it, I know it. And. You’re also a witch.

“Go on,” I said, my heart beating quicker at this point.

You didn’t have things easy growing up - dysfunctional family dynamics, absent father, and a string of abusive relationships as you got older.

My heart was pounding rapidly at this point.

“How do you know all this about me, Damian?”

I know a lot about you, Michaela. That’s all you need to know. I am capable of loving you in ways no mortal could ever fathom. All you need do is surrender to me.

“I’m not in a place to surrender to anyone right now, Damian. My lover just threw himself into the harbor.”

Understandable, he said. Well you just rest up, my love, and I’m sure things will work out for the best.

“Okay,” I said, and fell asleep with the energy of Damian’s love surrounding me.

Chapter 3.

At work the next day I was unable to focus on anything. I was midway through my lunch break when I heard Damian say, what do you say we leave this place tomorrow, my love?

“For where?” I asked.

Morocco, he said. I want to show you the way the sand dunes look in the desert when the sun rises. I want to show you the architecture, the culture, the food.

I suddenly felt excited at the idea - running away with this entity - leaving my past behind. It felt like a scene out of a fairy tale - only real.

Next thing I knew, Damian was singing “Come Fly with Me,” by Frank Sinatra in my head and I burst out laughing, overflowing with joy and feeling lucky that I had finally found someone who understood me, who eased the loneliness within me, who reminded me of what it was to laugh.

You’re very beautiful, you know, he said in a drawling, seductive voice.

“Save it for Morocco,” I said playfully, my heart feeling like a hot air balloon.

Before I knew it, we were on a plane together, falling for each other quicker by the minute. Well, I was on a plane, you have to remember. Damian was a nonphysical entity, which made our relationship - strange, you could say, to put things mildly.

But I had never been one for normalcy to begin with. In fact, it was my personal philosophy to shun anything that would be considered mildly normal by society’s standards.

And so our love took off the same way as the airplane.

When we arrived in Morocco, we spent long evenings under the desert sky, numbering the stars in the milky way, soaking up the serenity of the sand dunes. During the days we toured the city of Marrakesh, basking in the colors, the architecture, the geometric patterns on the walls. The culture was fascinating to me but more fascinating was Damian.

He told me of his life in the underworld and I was amazed at how much we had in common with one another. I grew to believe that there was some kind of mystical force pulling us together, and we could consciously resist it all we wanted, but no matter what that eternal longing would pull us back into each other’s reality, one way or another.

It was the romance of a lifetime.

———-

That’s the way things always start out, don’t they? For all of the eternal longing that existed between us, there was no denying that we didn’t always agree on everything. Just normal couple things, right?

But nevertheless, I wanted no one else. No other entity. I had finally found someone who understood the very depths of my soul; that’s not something I could ever let go of easily. And let go was something I never wanted to happen; of this I made Damian aware.

“What are the options for our future, Damian?” You can let me possess you, he whispered seductively in my ear.

I laughed and said, “What, you don’t think I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that’s not a good idea?”

I’m not like other demons, he said convincingly.

“You are rather sweet for a demon,” I said, laughing.

It’s decided, then. Let’s go somewhere special to make it happen.

“Where were you thinking?”

You decide.

“I’ll have to think about it and get back to you.

Absolutely, my love.

And with that he vanished into the night before I had a chance to say another word and I was left alone, once more.

————

My stomach was lurching at the thought of being possessed by Damian. Just the normal cold feet experience, right? Why should I be worried? He’s most certainly unlike any entity I’ve ever encountered before. Knowing, powerful, kind, intelligent…and that’s the thing you’re supposed to do when you’re my age right? Submit and allow yourself to be possessed.

I had always shirked away from the idea of marriage for just that reason. I didn’t want to ever belong to anyone except myself and the universe. The idea of being some man’s “property” made me want to vomit. Changing your last name to his to totally seal the deal. The patriarchy was something I’ve always rebelled against, so why was I questioning whether or not I wanted to be possessed by Damian?

Loneliness. I was aching inside and needed someone to fill that emptiness within me. Someone who understood me. No human man had ever truly understood me before. I hardly even understood me. I rarely took the time to understand myself with how busy I was with my work and traveling, always running from something, it seems. Running from my past, from myself.

But as it turns out, they’re right when they say everywhere you go take yourself with you.

And take myself with me I did indeed, to Malibu, with Damian. For our wedding — or rather, Possession — day.

——————

Chapter 4.

The warm pink sunset cast a dreamy glow over the pacific ocean as Damian and I stood on the shore together.

“So - how exactly do we go about this? I don’t exactly think you could find a priest would would willingly perform a possession,”

Relax, my darling, my bride, Damian said. All you have to do is surrender to me.

And without giving it another thought, I sat down on the white sand cross legged, and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew I was in my mind, but I was not alone. There was another presence there.

Wow, the sunset sure looks beautiful through your eyes, said Damian.

“Yeah, it does,” I said, happy that I could share this moment with someone else.

We sat there together for awhile, celebrating our oneness. Basking in the blissful sensation of belonging to another. I thought my heart would explode from joy.

As the sun went down and the stars began to come out, Damian asked if I wanted to go to Hawaii for our “honeymoon”, and I obliged, in a dreamy, romantic trance.

————-

Palm trees. Crystal clear waters. Long days and slow nights spent wrapped up in Damian. Listening to his tales of the underworld.

Our love grew deeper in those weeks than it ever had before. It’s hard to express the feelings of deep spiritual oneness that we shared. There really are no words for it, except sinking deep into an ocean of pure peace and love that washes over you and makes you feel that everything’s alright, that everything’s happening exactly as it should.

—————

PHILADELPHIA, PA

Like all good things, the honeymoon eventually did end as my work beckoned me once more. Damian did not like when I had to work. Even though he was right there with me the whole time, it upset him that I was unable to give him my full attention, even for a second.

“Oh, stop acting like a child,” I said teasingly. “You know I’m all yours and you’ll have every ounce of my attention once I’m finished with my work,”

Yes, darling, he said. But sometimes I wish you would let me take care of you, so you wouldn’t have to put such strain on yourself.

“You know I love working, Damian,” I said, although it wasn’t fully true. “It gives me a sense of purpose and allows me to be independent and free in this world.” That much was true, at least.

Does it really, though? Aren’t there other passions, other goals you would rather be working towards?

“Well you know I would rather be an artist, but that’s not a very fiscally responsible thing for me to do at this point in my life,” I said.

Let me take care of you, he said again, and then I didn’t hear from him for a while.

———-

The next day, however, I got a phone call from my boss.

“Michaela, this is your boss, Mr. Richard Wadd. I must inform you that I’m letting you go from the company. I don’t really have a good reason, other than the fact that my fragile male ego is threatened by your superior intelligence, and I’m the one in power, so there’s nothing you can do about it. Goodbye.”

Damian was very quick to comfort me.

You know, love, there are certain benefits to having a demon as a spouse, he said.

“Oh do share,” I said, needing comfort now more than ever.

Close your eyes, he whispered, and as I did I began to receive visions; information, otherworldly knowledge, flashes of events.

Do you want me to take care of your boss for you? He said.

In my fuming, trance-like stupor, I nodded half-heartedly.

Good, he said. It is done.

——————

For the second time in the past year I was awoken to the sound of the police calling, beckoning me down to the station. My boss had been murdered, and they had evidence of my fingerprints at the crime scene.

I felt myself go white. There’s no way I was capable of murdering my boss. Sure I had fantasized about it as many do, but now he was dead and they had evidence linking me to the crime. Where was Damian? He was oddly silent this morning; I hadn’t heard a peep from him since last night.

“Damian,” I pleaded, “Damian, are you there?”

Nothing.

I felt sick and needed a minute to catch a breather before heading to the police station. That’s when the visions started and it came back to me.

I was walking through Spruce Street Harbor Park, but it was more Damian than me. In fact, it was all Damian. I was barely there except as a witness observing my own body moving without my control.

The door to the apartment of my boss’ row house was locked, but somehow I had a supernatural strength that was able to twist the doorknob right off the handle.

The only thing I remember after that was a blur of screaming, blood, me begging Damian to stop, and my boss begging for his life.

————————-

“How could you, Damian?” I said, shaking.

It needed to be done. Now, let’s leave town before the police catch us!

“You’re insane! You literally murdered my boss!”

That’s where you’re wrong, my love… WE murdered your boss. And as far as the police know, YOU murdered your boss.

“DAMIAN-,” I screamed, but it was futile. Next thing I knew I felt very dizzy all of a sudden and collapsed onto my bed as if I was black out drunk.

——————-

Everything was black for a very long time, and I had no consciousness of anything except an unending void of nothingness. I had an awareness that I was not in my body, and was very possibly dead.

Then everything turned light, and I was speeding through a vortex.

Ah, a tunnel of light! I thought. I really am dead!

Well, this isn’t so bad, I thought, as I sped along. There was no more pain, no more drudgery of existence, no more, oh, what was his name… Damian!

As soon as I thought of him, the speeding stopped and I was in what appeared to be an endless meadow, with fields of swaying poppies of all different colors. It felt surreal and dreamlike, and there was a total sense of peace that washed over everything.

As I was taking it all in, a being of light started to approach me from a distance. I felt a total sense of unconditional love emanating from her.

“Michaela,” said the being, who I figured must have been an angel as I saw her jewel encrusted wings swaying back and forth, “you have made a terrible mistake in allowing Damian possess you.”

“Who are you?” I wondered out loud,

“I am Cassiel, your guardian Angel. And we are here because you are in grave danger.” “I guess letting myself be possessed by a demon wasn’t such a bright idea after all.”

“No kidding!” She said, then laughed lightly, clearly trying to evade hurting my feelings.

But then she gazed into my eyes with a deep understanding and compassion, as if she could see straight through my soul and knew me better than I knew myself.

“You were lonely, lacking in self-love. You let your demons from your past overcome you. But it’s okay now, because I’m here to help. I’m going to show you how to reclaim your inner light and overcome Damian.”

“I killed someone, Cassiel,” I said, tears streaming down my face.

“No, Damian did it. And that will be taken care of. You must see now that there is so much in God’s hands - so much going on behind the scenes that you are unaware of. But we ultimately have your back. Your angels, your spirit guides, Source, the entire universe is secretly conspiring in your favor.”

“I don’t understand how they could allow all of this to happen to me then, Cassiel,”

“Michaela,” she said softly, “everyone has free will and must answer for the consequences of their actions. Karma catches up with everyone. But ultimately, everyone is forgiven for their deeds after they have worked through their karma and regained memory of their divinity.”

“So what happens next?”

“You’re going to be sent back to your body. By this point, Damian’s strength will make it hard for you to let go of his possession. But you must not give up or lose faith, Michaela. There is a light within you that is stronger than any force of evil that has ever been. And that’s the force of self-love. You must see that you are worthy and that love never leaves you, even when you are on your own.”

“That’s something that I’ve always struggled with.” “I know. And you are certainly not the only one. So many, if not all of your species’ problems are rooted in this lack of love. But it is infinite and existing everywhere, if only you will open your heart and allow yourself to tap into it.”

“So what does that have to do with exorcising Damian?”

“Allow the light to possess you instead,” she said, and with that, everything went black again.

————————

When I regained consciousness and flew back in my body once more, I was seated on an airplane next to the window, with a cocktail and an upscale looking meal in front of me.

Welcome back, my love, Damian said.

“Hi,” I said, in a fog.

Your dinner is waiting for you.

“Nice!” I said warily, “Where are we going?”

My dear, he said, we are bound for Paris. We are going to start a new life, you and me.

“A clean break!” Being powerless, I was just going along with him at this point.

Yes, he said, and laughed lightly

Once we touched down in Paris, I felt a renewed sense of hope and vigor. Because of the possession, I was able to fluently speak French. I had been here before when I was younger once, when the past that haunted me now was more of a present, everyday reality. I wanted to think that I was in a better place now, but given the fact that I was possessed by a literal demon, it was hard to say.

Now Michaela, my love, said Damian, while we are here, I will have some commitments to attend to in the underworld. I trust that you will be able to manage for several days at a time without me.

“I will do my best,” I said, like the dutiful wife I was pretending to be.

I know you need me, and are nothing without me except a lonely, blubbering mess.

“Okay,” I said. What an ass. “Can’t wait until you get back!”

———————-

With Damian gone, I felt like I could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

I spent long afternoon strolling through ancient cobblestone streets and evenings sitting on terraces, drinking wine and people watching. As I rode the metro and wandered in and out of several boutiques, an awareness started to wash over me.

And that was this feeling of total contentedness and peace - with just me, on my own. No more loneliness, no more aching inside. It felt as if I had a clean slate, a barren soil that was fertile enough to foster my growing sense of self-love and independence.

I met some very interesting people. One afternoon as I was strolling alongside the Seine I saw a painter and was inspired by his lifestyle. He made ends meet by waiting tables at night and spent of the rest of his time devoting his life to art.

There were some people who were in a much worse state. Many homeless people and I saw myself in them. My heart reached out to the invisible who had demons of their own they had yet to overcome and I wanted nothing more to help them.

I was exploring Notre Dame cathedral when Damian finally returned.

What are you doing here? His voice sounded very sinister.

“Sightseeing,” I replied casually.

Get out of this building at once, he hissed.

Apparently I didn’t have a say in the matter as my feet began to move on their own.

What do you say we have a picnic in the park underneath the Eiffel Tower, ma cherie?

The thought made me queasy but I agreed.

As we were sitting underneath the Eiffel Tower, there was an awkward pause.

You’re awfully quiet, Michaela.

“Sorry, I’m just soaking it all in. The twinkling lights, this lovely picnic you’ve prepared - it’s every girl’s dream!” And as I was saying it, I realized a part of me still meant it. After all the progress I’d made on my own, I realized I was lucky to be sharing this moment with another entity, even if he was a demon.

Yes, my love, he said. And there will be many more such moments to come. I’m never letting you go!

That made me feel nauseous and I seemed to snapped out of it a bit.

“Damian, I don’t know about that. We killed someone! We can’t keep running from that forever.”

I could feel his temper starting to rise.

So what are you suggesting, Mickey? Turning ourselves into the police? They’ll never believe you. They’ll think you’re insane if you tell them the truth. And you’ll be locked behind bars for the rest of your life. I’m your only hope at a good life.

After he said that, something within me started to fall apart at the seams. I was no longer sure of myself, sure of where I began and where Damian ended. I felt so controlled and like I had no way out of this relationship. I could only go along with it and hope for the best.

I remembered what the angel Cassiel told me and wondered whether what she said was true or not. Something within me told me her words rang true. Suddenly I had a very strong urge to expunge Damian and everything about him from my being. I needed an exorcist, a priest, but although I had a strong sense of spirituality I was not a religious person and didn’t think going to one would work. No, something within me knew the answer. And I knew I could wait no longer to rid myself of this demon forever.

But I needed evidence of Damian’s murder. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life behind bars for a crime I did not commit. He was right in saying that no one would ever believe me. I needed proof that I was truly possessed by a demon.

And that was how I found myself at the PIOP, or Paranormal Investigators of Paris.

———

Of course, I had to wait until Damian was away at work for several days in the underworld. The PIOP referred me to a renowned shaman who performed exorcisms at Notre Dame Cathedral. I corresponded to the shaman via email and told her about my case. She said it sounded like a doozy alright, and that I should think of a way to trick Damian into planning a date at the cathedral where the exorcism could be performed.

That night when Damian returned, I turned on the charm and told him I had a special date planned for us tonight in Paris. He was exhilarated about it! First we went out to a fancy vegan restaurant for one final goodbye dinner. For the first time he opened up to me about some of his experiences in Hell.

So I said to him, in Lucifer’s name, you musn’t use that torture device! It’s from the 18th century. We’re so much more humane than that now. Get the Tiger Bench.

“My woke demon,” I said, Damian too wrapped up in his story to catch the sarcasm.

As he rambled on about his day in literal Hell, I wondered once more how I had ever let myself get in this situation. Sure, I had trauma from my past. Dysfunctional family. I remember growing up my mom would throw dishes at our heads when she was in one of her rages. Absent father. A string of loser boyfriends who treated me like nothing. I wanted so badly to be loved and understood that I was willing to settle for anyone giving me any attention, filling the place that was supposed to be occupied by my father. And of course, the mental health issues that plagued me from perpetually feeling like an outsider in this society. It’s no wonder I let myself become possessed by a demon.

But no more, I decided in that instant. I was healing and had gotten to a place where I didn’t need anyone’s love except my own. Everyday was a chance to start over, to pursue my dreams and visions, to become someone great. And to become that person, I needed to let go of my past. I needed to let go of my demons.

I needed to let go of Damian.

After the waiter brought us the check, and Damian was still rambling about his day, I said, “Hey, D, sorry to interrupt your story,” yeah, so sorry, “but there’s something I really wanted to check out at the Notre Dame Cathedral. I know you have an aversion to that place, and churches in general, but it will only be for a moment.”

Damian paused his story abruptly. If demons had hackles, you could almost feel his being raised.

Michaela, he said in a seething tone, I would really we rather not. Couldn’t we go to the catacombs instead?

“Oh, it will only be for a minute, sweetie,” I said, “I want to see the home of Quasimodo. And I know how much you love the song ‘Hellfire’!”

He seemed like he was starting to warm up to the idea.

Yes, that is one of my favorites, he said, and preceded to burst into song. You can be the Esmerelda to my Frodo!

Too far, I thought. “Okay, that’s enough!” I said, and we both laughed. There were some parts of being possessed by him I was going to miss, which is why what I was about to do wasn’t going to be easy.

But it wasn’t enough to stop me — us — from riding the metro to the Notre Dame Cathedral.

For the final time.

Chapter 5. When we walked inside, I was amazed once more by the stunning architecture of the cathedral. But even my amazement at the light shining through the stained glass couldn’t stop the nervousness creeping up in within me for the act we were about to undergo.

I could feel Damian’s discomfort and itchiness to leave. Can we go now? He hissed. “Of course,” I said assuredly, “but first I want to see the gargoyles.”

Damian let out a roar of rage but agreed, very reluctantly.

As we were climbing the spiral stairs up to the top of the tower, there was a hidden door where I knew the shaman would be waiting, with camcorders from the PIOP to capture video evidence that I was truly possessed and shouldn’t be held responsible for my boss’ murder. The shaman would also be able to testify as a witness.

“Oh, look, Damian, a hidden passageway!”

We ducked through the door and the shaman quickly slammed it shut.

NO! He screamed. YOU BITCH! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!

But it was too late for Damian. I lied down on the gurney and as I was strapped to the table, Damian started thrashing and wailing about. The shaman starting waving her arms and reciting latin incantations and I started reciting a few affirmations of my own:

“I am enough. I am whole. I am loved and lovable, without or without you. I am enough. I am whole…” and as I repeated these words, I felt an immense, golden light rising up from within me, covering my aura and I knew that Damian and all the demons from my past could no longer energetically occupy the same space as this light.

And before I knew it, it was all over.

———————

Things were different after that. I was determined to make it as an artist, even it it meant taking a pay cut. Being possessed by Damian taught me a lot, and I truly began to understood what Cassiel meant when she said that everything is happening in divine order, for our highest good.

For the time being I was working in a bar in Buffalo, NY, renting a small house and working on building my dreams during the day. I still had enough saved from my previous role as an investment banker that I didn’t have anything financially to worry about for a while, but enjoyed spending my evenings at the bar. It was funky and had a cool atmosphere that attracted a bohemian crowd. During the day I worked on creating music and photography. I dreamed of one day being a speaker and sharing the experiences I had, and more importantly how I had overcome them. I wanted to give back more than anything.

One night while I was working there was a very handsome musician playing at the open mic. He was very well mannered and we had an in depth, philosophical conversation about the nature of the universe. Before he left we exchanged contact information, and I had a good feeling about it, but I was in no hurry to rush into another relationship.

For now I was just enjoying my own company, fulfilling my passions, working towards turning my dreams into reality and making the world a better place.

For me, that was enough.

I was enough.

I had always been enough.

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