#anyways manipulative assholes are not exactly that rare to come across

[jade-curtiss]

"Let me take nothing you care about seriously and make fun of your traumatism on top of creating new others, it'll be fun"

"how come you hate me? It wouldn't have happened if I would have listened you communicated more."

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

Hiiiii I came Across Your Blog and I rlly rlly Love it,The Way you Write for the Creepypasta Characters is Amazing and I'm obsessed With it.

anyway If you are willing to take requests Can I Request The School Au Creepypasta Boys Like Ben Jeff,and the Proxies w Female Reader who is on The Proxies level (Is really strong And Smart as hell) But isn't Exactly a Proxy and + She's the Most popular and Smartest girl in School.

It's okay if not,You decide Just curious ❣️

Thank you so much!

Ben is using you to the max bro. He'll have you do homework for him and beg you to give him the answers to the up and coming exam. But, he's not going to be as open about his abuse if you're popular. You're popular for your personality, looks, and smarts, while he's popular for his looks and black market dealings. He'll show you off because like, two of the most popular kids in school are dating, you're the IT couple, but boy would the entire school freak out if they find out what Ben did to you at LJ's Halloween party.

Jeff isn't really popular but more so infamous, so being with him is definitely going to kill some of your popularity. Jeff doesn't really care about your popularity, and will constantly call you a dumb bimbo despite him copying your answers more time than he can count.

EJ is pretty much the school's JD when it comes ro reputation, so they'd be mixed opinions. I can see some of the popular girls getting jealous of you because helloooo, you just pulled the school's hot mysterious guy. You absolutely love his smarts and the two of you often talk about biology and help each other study for test. He's such the perfect boyfriend, always buying you gifts, walking you home, throwing you complement after complement. Awww. He'd would never hurt you, right?

Toby loves you bro, you're fucking saving his grade. The two of you were paired up in ELA because the teacher thought you'd be a good influence on him, and also hoped you could help him with his stutter, which wasn't even that bad. You found him a little strange, but you fell for his awkwardness and attitude. He doesn't care about your popularity either, hell, he rarely cares about his own, but your smarts? Broo, he's on his fucking knees for you bro. He didn't really care much about his grades until half way through senior year when he was told he might not be able to graduate if he didn't get them up, and then the moment you came along and got him to actually understand what the hell was going on, he fell hard. He still has his issues and is still an abusive asshole, but I feel like in this situation it's a lot harder to acknowledge it because of his desperation and almost simp like behavior.

Liu wants to ruin you. He wants to absolutely destroy your reputation for his own amusement. Does he love you? Ehhhh, maybe, hopefully, probably... It honestly depends on the day. Liu is capable of love don't get me wrong, but when the two of you first got together, he didn't really love you and saw you more as a game, but he fell for you as your relationship went on. You're popularity really bothers him because not only is he known as Jeff's little brother, but now he's known as the Smart Boy/Girl's boyfriend. But aye, because of you, he gets to skip more classes.

Tim doesn't really care about your popularity. Tim likes to go for losers because they tend to be more desperate and easier to manipulate, but Tim's always been one to enjoy a challenge. Even talking to you was hard because since you have a solid foundation, you often ignore him and reject any and all advances, but through some blackmail after one of LJ'S parties, you agreed to date him. The entire school gets an off vibe about your relationship, but they ain't gonna say anything.

Brian, dear lord. With Tim, getting you was hard, with Brian, easiest thing in the world. If you read my one shot The Proxies Little Pet part 2, I showed Brian as a charming lover boy, and I still stand by that. Brian is a manipulative, deceiving, blackmailing bitch. He's similar to EJ and Liu, all three of them present themselves as pretty nice, chill, caring guys, but the moment you date them, yours trapped. EJ takes a painfully long time to shoe his true colors, Liu is average time, but Brian. The moment you agree, he's done hiding. I can see the two of you hooking up, and afterwards while you were asleep he took a shit ton of picture of you. One day, when you're sick and tired of his abuse, he'll send you all the pictures he took and ask if yall were still over. Safe to say, you didn't stop dating.

LJ is an interesting case where he doesn't use you for your grades, but instead uses you for amusement. He'll actively embarrse you because come on, hes the class clown! Everyone loves him. He's extremely apathetic towards you whenever you cry about it, and he's just a fucking dick.

[lunarcovehq]

Kenji Matsui is a vampire that currently resides in Celestial Hills and has been a Lunar Cove resident for 3 years glaring at residents until they scurry away.

ITS THE END OF THE WORLD

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

DATE OF BIRTH: April 19, 1989

OCCUPATION: Lawyer

FACECLAIM: Sen Mitsuji

AS WE KNOW IT, AND I FEEL FINE

SPECIES: Vampire

CLAN POSITION: Member

AGE AT TRANSFORMATION: 29

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, KENJI MATSUI

Trigger Warnings: Parental Death, Parental Manipulation

PAST: 

Like the one who came before him, and the one soon to follow, Kenji, the second child born to a couple that did not tolerate disobedience, was quick to realise what being a Matsui actually meant. With the trajectory of his life, and that of his siblings already set, orders were to be followed and expectations were not only to be met but to be surpassed, it was not enough to be good, they had to be the best, the most successful, the most powerful. However, pitting the children to bring about a competitive nature only worked when their mother’s eyes were on them, condescension was an act put on over the other’s failure when their father asked about achievements. It was a game carefully played showing their parents wanted they wanted to see and hating them and all the rules in secret, but it was one that strengthened the bond between the siblings.

Solace and company arrived in the form of neighbours which soon grew into a friendship that was miraculously approved, of course it helped greatly that their parents were business partners, but even so, this friendship through proximity quickly grew into something genuine that was beyond the controlling grasp of his parents. All seemed to be well, business boomed and the children, less afraid and with more support than just each other, carefully toed the line their parents had set for them and began doing things for themselves without seeking permission. But of course, freedom was a rare word in their dictionary, being caught was the children’s biggest fear, but they should’ve looked ahead because something far worse was on the horizon.

A business man and a lawyer make a terrible combo in more than one way. With greed being the driving force and power the end goal, it was no surprise when the years of lies and deceit finally found their mark. When his dad sold out his business partner to make a profit for himself and his mother defended his father when things escalated at court, the shock was felt not only by the Morrell’s but also the Matsui children. Enraged, the business partner, whom just so happened to be a secret witch, cursed the pair of them to a fate worse than hers - a life of betrayals and misfortune would fall upon them. Writing her off as a madwoman, the Matsui’s won the case and reveled in their victory. However, Ken and siblings were alone again as the Morrell’s skipped town hastily. While the other two were finally vocal about their outrage, Ken, who was hit the hardest by this, retreated further into himself and it was this silence on the act that began to drive a wedge between them. His sister had complained to him many a times about the unfairness of their parents, the sky high expectations and finality of their word. But Ken, though sharing the sentiment, was unable to offer any comfort as he had resigned to the fate that his parents would never change their ways. The only way to avoid their wrath was to do exactly what they want. His brother had figured this out too, but being the eldest, he left not long after the incident as his career took off. Becoming apathetic to everything was easy after that, coming across as cold and asshole-ish was a safer bet that involving feelings.

It was a sight that broke his heart when he found his sister leaving in the dead of night, but knew it had to be this way. Helping her in anyway he could he let her go without a word, and in the morning he left too, unwilling to deal with his parents alone. Safe to say, their parents were livid. But these were his first choices without the influence of his parents and unbeknownst to the children, their collective acts of defiance began the curse. It began with simple losses, a missed opportunity here and there, a deal slipping through the cracks they didn’t think to seal. Soon it moved to bigger things, loss of high profile customers, important clientele dissatisfied with the how they were defended in court, and with the losses stacking up, the demotions followed. Bad deals to save face lead to a deeper hole being dug which quickly caught up and landed them all in rip current headed straight for doom.

Ken knew none of this of course, to him LA was the key to freedom but breaking free of the mold his parents had shaped him in was harder than anticipated. In his attempts to do the opposite of what he had been taught, Ken soon learnt that people take advantage of niceness and the world with its preaching's of doing good deeds does not in fact favour the kind. Slowly he reverted back into his shell and the wall of indifference and coldness was put back up as he became insufferable as ever. The years of conditioning couldn’t be shaken that easily, not only did he stay on the career trajectory set by his parents but when they landed on his doorstep, paranoid and muttering something about a curse, guilting him into helping, he fell right back into step and allowed them in. It was not a sight he could ever imagine, seeing the always put together folk now standing weary and disheveled caused a pang of a pity within him, but no matter how out of sorts the Matsui parents were, they were still master manipulators, especially on their children.

When strange people began showing up at his house, he was offered very little in explanation and the morsels he was given didn’t line up; they were business partners, they were friends, they were bodyguards. They were none of your business. Questions fell onto deaf ears, and arguments were simply Ken airing out his frustrations, his parents had no care in the world that they took over their son’s new life with their problems again, it was owed, this was the least he could do. He couldn’t pinpoint when they made the decision, but Ken was finally told the truth. Finding out the betrayal came with a curse was not surprising (after he adjusted to his initial shock of the existence of supernatural begins), they deserved it and he told them as such. As for the strangers, the hunters, they were indeed bodyguards. His parents had somehow come into contact with Supernatural hunters and realising the Morrell’s were Witches, they gave up all the information they had to this group. Anger was white hot when Ken realised what this would mean to his former childhood friends, no matter what he was told about their powers or how unnatural it was, Ken refused to accept his parents excuses, the fact that they had intentionally sent them to death was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Cutting ties once more there was finality in his words when he said he wanted nothing to do with them, and learning from his previous mistakes, Ken moved cross-country this time. Taking New York’s bar exam was a little price to pay for a second fresh start. Three years of peace came crashing as the death of his parents reached him. A pair of strangers brought him the news and before realization dawned on their odd appearance, sharp teeth sunk in turning his world black. Ken was supposed to perish alongside them, the rouge vampires told him as such when he woke up, they were planning to attack the hunters that killed their friend but had found out about what his parents did and decided to take that matters into their hands too. It was retribution, they said when he questioned on why they turned him, tracking him down had been tough and this was them evening out the odds. With choices limited and powers not yet under control, Ken was left with little choice, following them around was more of a need than a want, and they knew it too. Life as a vampire was undoubtedly hell, and Ken saw it for what it was; a curse. And it was his to bear. Though death was a luxury he sometimes hoped for but when the moment came, he didn't want it. When their location was discovered by a group of hunters, the race to safety was only won by Ken and his decision of flight rather than fight. 

PRESENT:

A new house in Celestial Hills was not how Ken planned to ring in his third year of stay in Lunar Cove but he also was never the one to pass on a indulgence. By no means does he consider it safe enough to let his guard down, the killings saw to that, but the need to constantly look over his shoulder had eased as the years went by.

[bleubrri]

pervert!armin pt3

contains- dubcon, yandere-ish armin (foreshadowing), blackmail/manipulation, stalking, hacking, mention of nsfw, brief timeskip below the cut

[mature content]

pervert!armin who thinks long and hard about how to deal with your ex, porco. that meathead has to suffer- armin will make him suffer. he’s careful. calculated. he watches him for a month straight, learns his schedule down to the most seemingly pointless details. he knows his practice schedule, even the out of town games. he knows which of his equally dim friends’ houses he parties at on the weekends. he knows that he fucks the head cheerleader pieck in the third floor science lab at thursday lunchtimes. it’s not until a particularly dull evening of watching porco through his window literally measure his dick with a ruler that armin knows what to do. his eyes light up as he sees the flash of a camera as porco aims his phone at his crotch. oh yes, he knows exactly what to do.

pervert!armin who can already hear the muffled moans as he walks down the third floor corridor the following thursday. the buzz of his phone makes him pause, only to see that you’ve sent him a selfie, smiling over your sandwich in the park and wishing him fun at AV club. he shoots an i love you back and silences his phone. he hates being apart from you, but he has to do this- for your sake. he slips into the science lab and rolls his eyes at the sound of the beakers and glassware inside the storage cupboard rattling in time with each thrust behind the door. he spots a familiar backpack thrown haphazardly across a desk and gets to work.

pervert!armin who finds it oh so easy to install the malware and clone porco’s laptop and phone. he’s in and out in all of five minutes- he’s not top of his coding class for no reason. a smug smile is painted across his face later that night as the blue light from his PC reflects off of his glasses and illuminates his room in a sinister glow. he’s giddy with how much material he has to work with, can practically feel his neurons firing at lightning speed as his fingers flash across the keyboard. he makes the file and exports it to his laptop for safe keeping; you never know, that slimy bastard might need to be dealt with again. he’ll keep an eye on him. he finds the result is pretty instantaneous- the next morning the campus is alight with gossip. turns out the school board don’t offer scholarships to lacrosse captains who send unsolicited nudes to the entire school. word has it that he’ll be off campus by the end of the week. when he asks you about it, you furrow your brows and sigh. you’re muttering in disbelief about how you can’t believe it. he reaches out and laces your fingers together, assuring you he’s just a manipulative asshole who can’t hurt you anymore. you give him a half-hearted smile and hum in agreement.

~✮☽˚~

pervert!armin who’s never been happier in the months that he’s been with you. he’s like a whole new person because of your time together. the final semester’s coming to an end and he wants to ask you to move in with him next year- he rarely leaves your apartment anyway, it’s the smart choice really. you bring out the best in him. he barley has to look at the folder of your.. candids on his computer anymore. once a week tops. he only reads your texts when it’s a number he doesn’t recognise, only takes one pair of panties from your laundry a month.

pervert!armin who can’t wait to wake up to you like this everyday, groggy and clinging to him as if he’d ever let you go. he loves mornings like this, loves lazily suckling on your clit as you weakly grip his hair, still shrouded in your sleepy haze. eventually you’re sat opposite him at the kitchen island as you both prepare to submit your final assignments of the year. with two clicks, a flurry of mutual congratulations and a sweet kiss to your pretty lips, armin grabs his keys and begins walking to the cafe to pick up a celebratory breakfast for you both. he smiles and tips the barista. he’s practically skipping back to your apartment, bagels and drinks in hand and vision hazy with the rose coloured glasses he seems to view the world with. he’s vibrating with anticipation- he’s gonna ask you the big question as soon as he gets back. a syrupy smile takes over his face, he can practically hear your honeyed voice chanting yes yes yes.

and pervert!armin who’s smile drops and heart plummets to the core of the fucking earth when he enters the kitchen to find you curled up on the floor. there’s a glass of water shattered next to you as if your arms went limp and legs gave out where you stood. he tries to swallow the lump in his throat as you look up at him with trembling lips and tears gushing down your face as you turn his laptop towards him. he releases a shuddering breath, a barely audible whisper of your name escaping him as he sees- as you’ve seen- the folder he has of you. every photo he’s ever taken in one convenient little compilation on his fucking laptop. his jaw locks and his fists clench as you sniff and open the file he has on porco. your whole body is shaking now, and you choke down the bile rising in your throat, your voice hoarse from the scream that ripped through your chest just five minutes before he came back through the door.

“what have you done armin?”

[dramaqueeenamby]

𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ♦︎ 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔

Summary: He’d searched for centuries to find the sun summoner. What he never expected was for someone to uncover the sun within him. In which the darkling finds himself on a journey with a powerful Grisha who may just uncover the humanity trapped within.

A/N: So, prior to this, I hadn't written anything in literally two or so months. Consequently, this is rough. Like, hella. However, binging S&B on Netflix has reawakened my love of Ben Barnes and uncovered a love of the Darkling. He's an asshole, yes, but Amby loves her psychologically disturbed characters. Sue me.

I started just writing a few lines last week, and that has turned into over 15,000 words and 50 plus pages of content lagging up my google docs. It's pretty massive, and I've been working on ordering things so the timeline makes sense but honestly, truly, I'm writing this for me, to feed my latest fixation. I don't really expect anyone to read this, hence the lack of tags.

Also, I have never actually read the Shadow and Bone series (book 1 should arrive soon!), so my characterization of characters is based on my research and, largely, the series. Also, a lot of creative liberties. I apologize, again, in advance.

If for some strange reason, anyone would like to be tagged, just let me know, friends. Last thing, it's pronounced Muh-Lay-Nah. I didn't realize until I was like 3K in that the name sounds way too similar to Alina. I know. I'm trash.

Words: 2.2K // Pairings: The Darkling x OC // Warnings: None, yet.

Rewrite The Stars

Protocol is simple.

One either does or does not do something. It’s black or white. No shades of gray to cause confusion.

Typically.

That’s how it should be, at least, and for many, that is the case. Specifically, when dealing with the Darkling.

Never make eye contact, unless spoken to. Speak only when asked a question. Stand at attention at all times. And, of course, never raise your voice. That last one is critical.

Such are just a few of the rules when in the presence of the most powerful grisha to ever live. Countless additional rules are created naturally, but the underlying theme for all is constant: don’t upset him.

Some have dared. Very few have lived.

One might even be considered a repeat offender.

Milena Belarus.

Her name is one known across the lands, but in Ravka, she’s synonymous with one thing: power.

A Grisha with the ability to manipulate fire, inferni, wind, squaller, and perhaps the most dangerous of them all, the heart, heartrender. Never in recent times has a grisha been able to balance multiple gifts, but Milena was no normal Grisha. She was also immortal, having lived over a hundred years, while still appearing as though she was in her mid twenties.

Milena was also known by another name to others: Lieutenant Belarus, second in command of the second army.

It was a role she prided herself on, as she should. It was one of the highest positions a Grisha could attain and an enormous privilege to work directly with the General.

The Darkling.

And thus, where the shades of gray developed.

A few things called many to question, though never aloud, just what exactly the relationship between the Lieutenant and General’s constituted. The first question was raised when Milena first arrived at the Little Palace. A traumatic childhood that constituted loss, hiding her abilities, and forever moving around to avoid persecution caused her to start late in her training.

But when she did, when it was discovered that she was different from the others, the General took her training upon himself, teaching her one on one. She would still train with the other grisha at times, but the private lessons were strange.

The General never trained anyone.

Though, it was argued that Milena was no average Grisha, she was powerful, more so than the others, and that caught the General’s eye.

Then the Keftas. One day, Milena arrived to a Grisha dinner in a black kefta.

No one, aside from the Darkling, had ever worn black.

It was always implied law that the color was reserved for him. Up until that point, at least. Again, though, it was argued that Milena’s power granted her privilege. A lot of privilege.

The most notable one, however, was based upon daily interactions between the general and his lieutenant. She would never outwardly challenge him, but Milena would also never refrain from holding her tongue, especially if she did not agree with his decision.

And that had happened on a couple of occasions.

“Do you really think this the best course of action?”

Her question caused all eyes to land on her, including his, not that she paid that any mind. Her only concern was the wellbeing of her brethren.

She matched his gaze, eyes never leaving his. Stillness overtook the room, no one dared say anything. “You disagree.” It wasn’t a question.

“It’s dangerous.”

“We are in war, lieutenant. Everything is dangerous.”

“But not everything needs to result in casualty.” She took it upon herself to move around the war table, adjusting the pawns used to represent their army. “No matter which way we go, we face ambush, but it is the timing of the ambush that makes the difference. The Fjerdans travel in the evening to restock supplies, ammunition. The path will not be as heavily guarded--”

“Yet still dangerous.”

She smiled at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. “We are in war, General. Everything is dangerous.”

The meeting was dismissed shortly after.

Rarely did Milena openly disagree with the General, but the frequency wasn’t what mattered, it was that it happened at all that surprised most.

How could one so easily risk facing the wrath of the Darkling?

And yet, no one had ever witnessed such a thing. No one even knew if it happened, if the General had ever even penalized her for such insolence. It was doubtful, though. One need not be chastised more than once to know not to upset the Darkling.

There were also whispers, rumors even, of Milena seen entering the General’s chambers and not leaving till morning.

And vice versa.

Though for all the thoughts and speculation, neither the General or Lieutenant ever confirmed or denied anything. And most were inclined to believe the leniency granted to Milena was solely based upon respect of her power, her leadership, and her role among the grisha.

She was special and necessary.

In more ways than most realized.

-------

“Me?” Milena was dumbfounded. “He wants to meet me?” Even saying it aloud felt strange. “Why?”

Genya stopped in the middle of digging in her kit, turning to offer an exasperated expression. “Must you really ask that?”

Milena rolled her eyes and stood up from her seat. This was no time to be sitting. “Grisha come here all the time, do they not? What makes me so different?”

“I don’t know, perhaps the fact that you possess the abilities of an inferni, squaller, and a heartrender?” It was sarcastic, no need for a response. “Until now, no one thought that possible. General Kirigan included.”

Milena quieted, focusing her questions toward herself rather than the Tailor sent to prepare her for her meeting with the Black General. She knew that getting out of the meeting was not an option, but that didn’t stop her from thinking about it. She’d heard rumors about the leader of the Grisha, none of them necessarily bad, especially if you were a Grisha, but almost all of them gave her pause. She always had a difficult time holding her tongue, something that often got her in trouble. Would this meeting also bring her trouble?

She knew, very much so, that that depended on her.

“There.”

Milena was so consumed by anxiety and teetering panic that she hadn’t even realized Genya had directed her back to her chair and finished her work. She looked into the mirror and sighed. As of recent, she was finding it harder and harder to recognize her own reflection.

Whoever that was, anyway.

Picking which color Kefta she donned also proved harder than what it should have been. For most Grisha, it was a no brainer, their color was determined by their gift. Milena, though, had options. She eventually decided on the Kefta of the Heartrenders, as it was the ability she’d relied on the most in order to survive.

Every day, Milena seemed to discover new sections of the Little Palace, it’s size even more massive upon exploring the internal, despite the grandiose magnanimity seen from the outside. Today, she discovered the wing of the palace belonging to the Black General.

Whether intentional or not, she couldn’t help but notice the darkening of the decor and dreary coloring the closer they got to his chambers. Once they were outside of his door, she noticed the guards that escorted her stepped back immediately after offering a single knock.

Silence.

She looked from side to side and spoke without thinking. “Are you sure he heard you?”

Seconds later, the door opened and Milena stilled, her spine naturally straightening while her gaze dropped to the floor, though she could feel his eyes burning into her. “He did.” She contemplated looking up but decided against it, for once, keeping her mouth shut. “Leave us.”

A small sense of panic rose as she looked to watch the guards turn and walk in the direction they’d came, leaving her alone.

“Come,” he spoke so calmly, yet she could detect the demanding undertones, leaving no room for argument. “Please.” It was a forced pleasantry, for sure.

Eyes still downward, she waited for him to move to the side, and even then she hesitated but realized she was only delaying the inevitable.

Upon entering, Milena lifted her head, taking in the massive room, the dark decor and equally dark color schemes even more prominent than the path leading to his chambers.

“What is your name?” She swallowed, hearing his footsteps grow closer. He was directly behind her.

“Milena.” Milena’s fingers straightened over the soft material of her Kefta. “Milena Belarus.” Her heartbeat quickened again when he brushed past her, moving from behind her to in front of her. Against her better judgment, she allowed herself to look up.

Saints.

Out of all of the rumors, whispers, and stories that she’d heard, none of them included that the Black General was, well, handsome. Sharp and dark features, raven black hair neatly slicked back, and eyes as dark as the abyss his powers commanded. His entire aura and presence emanated power and authority. She could see why his name alone struck fear throughout the lands.

Milena realized she was staring when his brow lifted, though she got the feeling it wasn't because he was upset with her. Rather, intrigued.

“And just what are you, Ms. Belarus?”

She was quiet. Such a short question with infinite possibilities. Up until a few weeks ago, she was nobody, a Grisha hiding among the mass to avoid persecution. Now, she trained and dwelled in a palace with luxuries she never knew existed. Her own reflection seemed like a stranger these days. Did that seem like someone who was in tune with their identity?

So, she answered honestly.

“I don’t know.”

If her answer surprised him, he didn’t show it. He simply moved so he was leaning back against his desk, eyes focused keenly on her. “Are you not Grisha?”

“Well, yes, but--”

“But, what?” Milena looked up again. She recognized the mockery in his tone, and it irked her. She was being honest, and he was being condescending. It was all so unnecessary.

Still, she maintained composure. “I’m not like most Grisha.”

“So, I’ve heard.” The irritation dissipated. Slightly. “Show me.”

She wasn’t expecting that. “Sir?”

“Show me.” He repeated his command, slower, firmer. There was no room for argument.

Despite her garment and in contrast to her preferred method of assault, she realized directing an attack on the leader of the Second Army was far from wise. So, she searched the room and noticed a cracked window on the opposite side. Shutting her eyes and lifting her hands, she focused and directed the wind in that direction, forcing both completely open.

He nodded, unimpressed. “And?” She looked at him, protocol damned. He’d invited her. Surely, he did not expect her gaze to remain on the floor the entire time. “Is that all?”

Irritated, she easily transferred that anger into a sizable ball of flames dancing in her hand. He looked semi impressed, walking up to her, merely inches away. She collapsed the flames. “And finally?”

At that, she hesitated. As a Heartrender, she could do many things, but the most common was an attack of a deadly nature. Of course, she could stop before it reached the level of fatality, but truly, who wanted to risk that with the Darkling?

Milena then looked back at him and stilled. He was smirking, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “You think you can hurt me.” It was an accusation, one she was prepared to defend when he spoke again. “I assure you, you can’t.”

This time, her eyes narrowed. He certainly was living up to his vile reputation. What an arrogant prick. Focusing, she moved her arms, straightened in his direction, her hand landing on his chest. She didn’t realize just how close he was. Opening her eyes, she realized his eyes were shut, evident discomfort in his face. He was feeling the effects of her speeding up his heart. However, Milena noticed the room was gradually darkening, shadows creeping up the walls, swallowing the light shining from the window.

She quickly lowered her arms and backed away, breathing suddenly uneven.

His eyes fell on her again, displeasure evident. “Why did you stop?”

She frowned. “Why would I not?”

“You have power. Great power.” He stepped forward, Milena naturally inching back. She’d upset him. “And yet, you hold back.”

Milena tried. She truly had. She’d fought so hard to hold her tongue but between the taunts and the gaslighting, she’d had about enough. “I didn’t realize you wanted me to kill you. Perhaps you should have made that more clear.”

Surprisingly, he was unfazed by her flippancy. “I want you to stop being afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” He said nothing, Milena realizing she’d stepped toward him this time, eyes flaming with determination. “Or anyone.”

Had she been looking instead of diverting her gaze to avoid his judgment, she would have seen the faintest hint of a smile playing upon his face. “We shall see, Ms. Belarus. We shall see.”

[cleverbxrd]

... In Love and War

WHO: Tim Drake / @cleverbxrd , Ra’s al Ghul / @thedcmonshead MENTIONED: Steph Brown, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, The Bat-Family, Jack Drake WORD COUNT: 4,247 LOCATION: Your typical abandoned warehouse in Gotham, used for all kinds of nefarious purposes. THE BASICS: Tim heads to face what he thinks might be his doom after a mysterious new member of the Young Justice messaging chat prompts him to follow. Tim knows exactly who, and what, this is about. Ra’s is there to finally get what he’s wanted for years.  TW: Tim being Tim, Ra’s being Ra’s, If either of those don’t give enough of an “Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here” Vibe: Emotional Turmoil, Emotional Manipulation, Predatory Behavior, Mentions of Physical Violence, Mentions of Past Deaths, Trauma (lots of it)

TIM: Fear. Anger. Hate.

Emotions came from his chest, his guts, burned with a fire he hadn’t felt in what felt like years. So this was what it was like to feel again? To remember the fight still inside, the passion to push himself forward. To love someone he’d known and admired for years. To loathe the face that yet again threatened to take the one thing that made him happy in this god-forsaken world away.

He’d stared at the messages for what felt like hours, icy blue eyes transfixed on the ‘unknown’ entity that had hacked into his private server (no doubt with help, cheater), and threatened just the wrong people.

Tim. Had. Had it. 

The emotions swirled and erupted from his throat in a vicious, feral screech, wanting to do nothing but destroy every inch of the now suddenly cramped but all too empty room he stood in. Tears stung his eyes, squeezed tight against the force of his scream, biting back against the sobs that followed it. He should have known, he should have kept her closer, should have sent her with something to protect herself with. Was it a mistake to open up to her? To feel again? He’d been careless, reckless, failure, IMBECILE, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN- 

 Heaving breaths rocked his lungs like he was trying to breathe in a vacuum, clawed fingers gripping dangerously at his hair, feeling like he could scalp himself from the force. Tim felt himself shaking, but worse than before, worse than the other times he’d felt the same paranoia hit him with the force of a freighter train. Steph… Stephanie...

He had time. He could save her.

With no moment to lose, and a solid look of hate plastered onto his brow, the bird swiftly got to work erasing his presence, jamming tracers and blocking signals that could alert anyone with enough smarts to try finding him.

He’d done what he needed to do, preparing for the impossible, no, the inevitable, and with no time at all he was tugging the belts across his chest again, the cape feeling weightless as the cowl fell over his face. Trusted staff at his back, closed and ready for combat activation, Tim made his way to the cave he was sure he wouldn’t see again for a long time. He didn’t even think to take in the surroundings, check security to make sure no one knew where he was going, his eyes were zeroed in on the familiar bike, his bike, no one else got this Redbird. He was a man on a mission, and he wasn’t going to be stopped.

The mission… Swinging one leg over, firing the engine on, he briefly thought of his family, what little there was, his friends. Guilt flicked through his harsh glare, something anyone paying attention to could barely see under the near molded scowl of the mask. Not even a note, nothing of the sort. He should say something, should tell someone what he was really getting himself into…. A remorseful look shot up at the one entrance up to the manor, where he was sure the Butler and the Gremlin were safe, sound, no second thoughts in their head. Lot of good that did. Just pissed him off more. 

No more running. This is the end of the line. It was time to fucking finish this.

What he wouldn’t give to have super-speed, breaking road laws nearly gave the same effect. He tried to concentrate on something other than the white that dared to roll over his eyes; the wind, the engine, the smell of the disgusting city air that would choke anyone who didn’t grow up in it. Something to keep his cool, or as much cool as he could, but it was all futile. Gloved knuckles threatened to rip apart at the very tips, the skin under them turning white under the bruises and scrapes they’ve endured. His hands itched to tear shit apart, they wanted a fight, and he knew exactly who he was targeting first.

If Ra’s was smart (as much as Tim hated to think about it, he really was. That was the scary part.), he’d have guards. At least a couple, just to wear him out, watch like the creepazoid he was, just until he could make that same damn offer again. His loose plan was to never let him get to step three. Take out the mad-man, save the girl, pretend the trauma of the past didn’t prove exactly what you’d told your girlfriend before you got together. Easy as pie.

It was never that easy. Don’t kid yourself, Red.

Skidding to a stop, the bike nearly collided into the side of the building he’d hoped was where the bastard assassin had alluded to. The dark bird stalked the entryway, a twitch in his brows signaling he’d been glaring for too long.

Too damn long, asshole.

One hand slid behind the cape, palming the one friend he’d had forever in combat, the trusted weapon in his crusade against the evils of the world, and he steadied himself, grounded himself with it. If he was going to take him down, he needed to remain balanced, focused, something he thought he could have when he pushed everyone away. Had he done more harm than good?

Never mind checking for locks, the vigilante slammed a hard kick against the door, literally busting his way in as his wrist flicked the staff to full extension, silver shining in the dim city lights behind him, white lenses shining with the harsh hate burning a hole in his stomach.

“Ra’s al fuckin’ Ghoul!” Tim announced, the yell ringing with the echo of his grand entrance. “Let her go. Or I swear I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

RA'S: Timothy always did have a flare for the dramatic. One of the many reasons, Ra's rather thought, that they had such fun together.

He'd half-expected the boy to come swooping into the warehouse in a rain of glass from above, a la Bruce, but busting in the door had rather a similar effect. And was, in all truth, probably rather more cathartic. The boy clearly needed it, at any rate: the boy's carefully cultivated upper-crust speech patterns were slipping into the improper diction of a real Gotham accent.

Ra's clicked his tongue.

The assassin was seated comfortably in an upholstered chair in the middle of the warehouse, a cup of tea in one hand resting on the arm of the chair. None of his League were immediately visible, though there was no doubt they must be there. It was rare that one of his men wasn't acting as a shadow, at the very least. Presently, there were no less than ten, scattered around in the deep shadows cast by what little light came in through the grimy windows.

"Tt. Detective, that's no way to talk to one's elders. And breaking in a door? All you needed to do was turn the handle--you're a welcomed guest, after all." Ra's sipped his tea, and kept his other hand out of sight. "Come. Have something to drink. I'm sure you could use the tea--you look a bit stressed."

TIM: As soon as the cool air hit his face, he knew things were wrong. He'd miscalculated, but somehow knew he was going to miscalculate. How? No clue, but it was always a surprise with this guy. That's what was really scary; the Unpredictability. Ra's was smart, too smart, smart enough to foil Tim's most complex plans. Half the time, Tim thought he got away with stuff just because it was amusing to the asshole, just letting his birdcage go unlocked to see how wild he could really get. It was only when he had the control he obviously needed, that's when he won. Tim needed the table to turn, and badly.

So what was so wrong with this picture?

He was calm, there was no Steph in sight. Infrared sight in the cowl told him more people were in the building, but none of them matched her form, nothing he could see at least. Bared teeth ground so hard they dared to crack in his jaw, deepening creases on the cowl's beak signifying his emotional turmoil as he stood his ground. He was too damn calm. And all Tim wanted to do was throw a punch.

"You think I give a fuck?!" His voice echoed, but not so much that he didn't confirm the assassin had the help hiding around. Think, if you make one wrong move you'll have to beat back twenty goons instead of the one. If he could only just think through the fire in his core. Pure, unadulterated hate, pushed on by paranoia. Good job taking the time to figure that shit out, Timmy. FUCKING FOCUS.

If he was still wearing the green pants, he might have quipped back something like I was more of a coffee guy anyways and spring into action, with a bright smile and nothing left to really lose. Back when he was younger, innocent, the only hardships he'd faced had been miniscule, moving past his personal tragedies with ease. He was here to make sure that didn't happen again. "I'm not here for sharing pleasantries." The staff whipped around, smacking into both hands. En garde. "Where is she?"

RA'S: Stubborn as ever. And Tim made it so very easy for Ra's to wriggle under his skin. He was ever-responsive to their little games, sharp enough to almost keep up, even throw out a surprise every once in a while.

For all the good it did him.

Ra's chuckled, raising a brow as he watched the boy snap his bo staff into full extension. "I may be wrong," he said slowly, smiling over his cup of tea, "but I believe you're here to do whatever it takes to get your sweetheart home safe." In a millisecond, his voice turned hard. "Put it down and come sit, Detective. You wouldn't deny an old man small pleasures, would you?"

He set the teacup neatly back in its saucer, and folded one leg elegantly over the other, drawing his other hand out of his pocket. A small box--no. A remote. A detonator.

"And do take the mask off, little songbird. It's impolite."

TIM: Shit.

Of course.

Every muscle in his body snapped to attention, an icy cold settling in as he felt his stomach drop to the floor. Something in that motion told him that Steph was still alive, which would make sense. He had little to relax about, but if Ra's was daring to blow something to kingdom come, he could guess that something was her. She was alive, and soon she'd be safe. That's the mission.

Gloved hands trembled, gripping the staff harder while he pondered his options. There really was only one. What did Bruce teach them? What did the absolute lunatic in front of him parrot? Whatever it takes. He probably hadn't met most of his rogues gallery when he came up with that lesson. Tim tried not to focus on the specifics, tried to not get in too deep. At this point, it was all improv, and this was the shit he was the worst at. With one hard exhale through his nose, he signaled his choice: Submission.

Ew. Gross. Bad word.

His stance relaxed, though he stayed as wound as a spring, the staff disappearing back in it's holster and his face finally freed, taking time to make sure he didn't nearly tear the cowl off his head. Messy hair fell out and around his face, no longer as harsh of a snarl but still angered, tense, just barely stained from his earlier tears. It was pathetic, he thought, that anyone could see him like this. That was just the plan, though, wasn't it? This is exactly why he'd taken her, tortured her, made sure he and his friends knew exactly what was going on.

Tim took brave steps forward, his hard, icy glare locked on to his enemy, standing with covered fist clenched to his side. Two outta three commands ain't bad. Who said you can't still rebel when the odds are so stacked against you you might as well fold? "I didn't know you still could feel happiness. Must be rare, not sure I've ever seen you genuinely smile."

RA'S: He could see the gears turning in his little bird's head at the sight of the detonator, the swift reevaluation of data the boy was so very good at. Calculating odds--odds that Stephanie was alive, odds that the detonator had to do with her, odds that Ra's would be willing to kill her if it was.

Odds that surrender would save her life.

As ever, Tim didn't disappoint. The bo staff was returned to its sheath, the mask came off, and the boy stepped over to linger against the side of the chair. Not sitting, simply staring Ra's down as that tongue of his lashed out while his hands could not.

The ancient assassin chuckled indulgently. "Of course I can. Typically you see me fighting, Timothy. You'll have ample opportunity to see me outside that context, now."

Another sip of tea, and he could feel the tension all but rolling off the boy. "I would have thought your father taught you to follow directions better than this. I said drop the staff, not put it back, and I said to sit." The teacup and saucer were shifted to the little table next to him, before Ra's held out an expectant hand. "I'll take the staff. And the mask."

TIM: Tim really hated every word that came out of the other's mouth. Like, Jesus H. Christ, something about the way he spoke made him want to just grumble, snap back even harder than he had. Call it a reflex, call it a learned behavior. He wasn't sure if it was pavlovian, there wasn't much of a reward in the end. Hell, one time he did just that he got kicked out a window and left to free fall. The only satisfaction that came from that was the knowledge that he'd done something to really piss the old man off to try and actually kill him. Fun times.

"My father wasn't the greatest guy." Neither was his dad. Why he stayed at the Manor still, Tim had no idea. It took all of his planning skills just to make sure he ditched the Butler when he went to school, let alone the Bat. "You know, should've known that from my demeanor." Reject, resent, repeat. It was a fun pattern that gave you scraped knees... or broken bones.

If he could tense up any more than he already was, he almost broke in half when Ra's asked for his gear. The few things keeping him from trembling too much, the only constants in this freaky-ass scenario. Whatever it takes.

Fuck... All of this.

"Don't be an idiot, Ra's." Tim growled, though it was quiet enough, his gaze breaking as he pulled the full cape and belt mess from his chest, the whole half of his uniform coming off into his hands in a few swift motions. "It all comes as a package deal. Chew on five pounds of kevlar." It was a last ditch effort, to try and stay calm, keep it quick and quippy. Not helping. The minute he tossed the mass over to Ra's he felt vulnerable. That's what you wanted. Fine. Take it. I can take it. If it's saving her, I can take it. With another rage-heated breath, Tim finally sat, already exhausted from the mental warfare. He never got this exhausted flinging code. Why couldn't he just hack his way out of this?

RA'S: Oh yes, he knew it was a package. It made it all the more gratifying when Tim stripped it off and tossed it in his lap before half-curling up in the chair opposite. Feeling vulnerable, evidently.

Ra's let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. The boy didn't know the half of it.

Ra's slid free the bo staff before holding the belt out, clearing his throat. One of the assassins skulked out of the shadows to take it, and then disappeared once more.

Ra's tapped the closed staff against his thigh. Once. Twice.  Thrice.

"Mm. No. You didn't want to take the chair when it was offered." He managed to keep a straight face as he nodded towards the ground at his feet. "Here."

Before Tim could open his mouth to respond, Ra's circled his thumb around the button on the remote. "Ah. None of that. I've had quite enough from Ms. Brown, today."

TIM: The Help was here. He was here. He was here. Could this day get any worse?

An ironic twist of fate it would be to ask that out loud.

Though, it gave him a bit of satisfaction to know that Steph had done her verbal damage. What he wouldn't give to know what kind of shit she spat at Ra's. She always was coming up with the good one-liners, he had to practice his in the mirror. Remembering that, remembering her, made his heart feel warm and heavy at the same time, tears starting to shine in his glaring eyes. Teeth clenched, holding back the waterworks for now. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction, not yet. Not until he knew she was safe, and she'd be free.

With reluctance, Tim got up and... Ugh, sat on the floor, at his next appointed target. His head hung low, the clear shame and fear finally slipping into his physical form, the barest shiver taking over his hands. He attempted to stop them, crossing them tight over his chest There was supposed to be a symbol there... oh right and trying to find his breath yet again. A dog, a pet, a bird in a cage. Steph would kill him for this, he was sure of it. Anyone in the family would, and for good reason.

He was right. He was doing the impossible.

RA'S: The boy could be so very well behaved, when properly motivated. Clearly his girlfriend beimg potentially blasted to kingdom come was more than adequate, because the boy hesitated only a moment before pushing himself out of the chair and sitting at his feet instead, head bowed low in shame. Hands shaking with fear, eyes shining with tears.

Ra's left the staff in his lap, reaching out to touch the boy at last, hand brushing at his hair like a dog to be rewarded. "Good." Already baring the back of his neck, like a good little prey animal.

"You know what my price is to let her go, little songbird. Can I assume by your being here that you're willing go pay it?"

TIM: It took all of his energy to not flinch at the fingers in his hair, the pure mess that came from wearing the cowl. This wasn't right, it was just like every other 'surprise' encounter, where he wanted to run in fear but stayed put like an idiot. Only... This wasn't a surprise. This was him, and he was finally giving the old bastard what he wanted. Direct, from the source. Oh god.

"Y-... Yes." Choking out the word felt like swallowing barbed wire, broken sobs that didn't dare escape his lungs frying his vocal chords. This was hard, but not hard enough. He'd made up his mind, she would be free, alive, even if it took his own. "Anything.... As long... As you accept my own terms in return."

Without much warning, his head snapped up again, a surge of fire lighting his eyes in a newfound wave of confidence. "If you're a bargaining man, take them: Steph goes free, you and your League leaves her, my family, and my friends the fuck alone, and I get one last message to send to J- Bruce.... Something to throw him off, no traceable IP, no post-data threads." A shaky breath let his shoulders drop again, eyes closing tight. Whatever. It. Takes. "Then... Then I'm yours." Never in a million years...

RA'S: Anything was such a powerful word, but not as powerful as yours. Ra's let out a pleased hum, considering the boy's requests--because that's what they were, of course. Tim had nothing to bargain with but his own compliance, now, and his current position was plenty enough to indicate how that would turn out.

"The girl will go free, and your family and friends will be left alone so long as you play your part," he agreed after a moment's thought, continuing to card his fingers through the boy's hair. "No message. Surely you don't believe me stupid enough to do that--with your computer skills and your family's knowledge of codes? No, no."

The boy would have to yield to whatever terms he laid out--he didn't have to cede anything at all, aside from Stephanie's survival, but a gesture of good faith couldn't go amiss. "Do we have an understanding?"

TIM: Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit.

He should've known that last request was a stretch. Something told him that if he'd been nicer gross that maybe he'd been more accepting of it. He hated the idea of that, hated everything about this. It was the only thing left he could do, he thought. Anything else would get him and anyone he loved in worse conditions than he'd want to see again. Too many deaths, too much blood. "Dad!!" 

"Fine... Fine fine finefinefinefinefine." Annoyance laced every mumbled word, his previous grimace morphing into something a bit more dead, the only hint that he hadn't already given up being the wrinkles on the bridge of his nose where he scrunched it at the thought that he was quite literally handing himself over. At least it wasn't into the GCPD.... Nope. This was worse. Unfair comparison too.

Time for the magic words, building up as much composure as he could. His back went stiff, straight and stoic, sitting up as best as he could to try and endure the self-torture he was dealing out.

"I accept."

RA'S: There was no need to hide the smirk that rose this time, with the boy's reluctant assent, even though he straightened his back and tried to take it like a soldier.  As if Bruce was watching, as if Bruce would care how the boy handed himself over when he was handing himself over.  "Very good, Timothy."

He let Tim rest there at his feet for a moment before uncrossing his legs and nudging the boy up to his feet, following suit a moment later.  His assassins appeared from their hiding places, and Ra's instructed a handful of them to go ensure that Stephanie was dropped off outside the gate to Wayne Manor.  "As for you, Timothy, I have a car waiting to take us to the airstrip.  You could use a vacation from the city, I'm sure."  Vacation was hardly the right word, but the boy would catch his drift, regardless.

TIM: Don't treat me like a fuckin' dog. The words dared to escape, make themselves known, but he had to settle for speaking through his eyes. His jaw was clenched too tight to try forming words anyways, though through all the effort a single tear slipped past his iron-clad defenses, falling perpendicular to the deep line that framed the side of his face. Too many scars to try counting, and yet that one still burned, still reminded him of the shards of glass scoring his skin, a fight he'd thought he'd earned, a death he was too ready to accept. He'd saved Bruce's legacy. If only Dick hadn't been there to catch him, maybe this wouldn't have happened, maybe people would be safe from the curse of tragedy that followed him.

All Tim could do was follow his new orders in silence, standing with his eyes locked to the ground. At least he'd done what he needed to do. The Mission was complete, as far as he knew, with a few extra perks to boot. His Team was safe. His family wouldn't be bothered. Steph was alive. It's all he could ask for, anything after this didn't matter, clearly. This was his last Mission, his last stand as Red Robin...

Fuck that.

"I don't take vacations." The cold words finally came through, cracked and broken, his new-found emotions finally getting to him.  Tim finally brought a covered palm up to swipe at the water stain on his skin, and got a terrible idea.

Being sneaky was always his favorite part of the job. Let's see if he could still even pull it off.

"Whatever..." Hands clenched behind his back, fingers made quick work of finding the one solid compartment that housed his gauntlet's computing processor. It took no time at all to find the microcontroller and crush the chip in his hand, the debris falling to the ground as soon as he opened his palm. It wasn't much, but it was something. If anything, it would hopefully look like a show of his new 'loyalty'. If anyone could find the near microscopic remains of Wayne-Tech chip work, it was his family. Maybe then they'd know how dangerous this situation was, if the fact that he didn't leave anything for them to track was any sort of hint. With his last little act of rebellion, he raised both hands, a light form of surrender.

"Let's just get this over with."

[flameontheotherside]

Why I Don't Join Spiritual Groups

During the stay at home order I'm getting inspired to pass the time writing.

Bare with me if it sounds like a rant. I get very passionate and emotional and I'm claiming PMS to be my reasoning if it goes there. Lmao 😆...I have ovaries so sue me.

I think spiritual groups consist of a lot of fake people.

The type that tries to go the I'm Holier Than Thou route. They post about all the good they have down for validation. What they do is good but it's just for appearances. I've lived with Christian women like that. She was very spiteful, controlling, manipulative but she made sure to say God told her to do good.

🤔 Okay, how about just do it and like, not brag about it?

No one is perfect but some people know what they are doing and don't care. They just want brownie points. I'm sure people will take notice if deeds are genuine. That's what usually happens over time, you make friends and what have you.

Bullying and anxiety.

Social functions are hard to take part of especially if you're the only one with purple hair, facial piercings, and body tattoos. This is solely based on where I was living too. I also did things differently like eat meat and dairy in spite of being lactose intolerant. Because of my past with emotional abuse and bullying, I won't join a local group too big.

Drama and negativity triggers my anxiety. The twin flame community I feel is riddled with drama. I feel so much for people who have had bad experiences but I won't let their bad experiences taint my feelings about my unique journey.

Another thing, our spiritual journey is UNIQUE!

...And too many people want to stand on their soapbox with a list of 👩🏽‍🏫 "rules" like they are some hot shit because of sheep clout about what is required or expected out of a twin flame relationship! The FUCK you mean?? 😆 You have a phd in twin flamology all a sudden? Shit I know things but I don't expect everyone to agree with it. About 25% of the time I don't believe what erik says to me. ESPECIALLY IF ITS ERIK...lmao! Just kidding.

If you happen to agree with what I pull out of my asshole, cool. If not, take your negative vibes somewhere else.

No, I don't need to follow some "guru"!

The last lady I "followed" went full "Jesus freak" and called out new agers to be void of Christ when it's not completely true. While I believe in God 150%, I don't exactly line up with this women. I don't like change and changes of opinions on any given spiritual journey...

ARE GOING TO FUCKING HAPPEN!!!

So to avoid being put off by a person, I no longer go out of my way to be a sheep or clout member of any kind. I don't watch specific YouTube channels, listen to podcasts or post in Facebook groups for these gurus. Mine is...

Jesus/God the REAL MVP, I don't need anyone else!

It's easier to be on this journey alone and with just a few people in my circle who believe me, believe in me, teach me and give me hugs every now and then. I love and enjoy the smells of my own shit..... It's therapeutic.

It's very rare I come across someone who can have a conversation without it becoming a battle of wits when its completely unecessary. Especially on matters of spirituality. We can hardly understand how to get along as a planet. We still have much to learn spiritually. None of us have the right to say what is and what isn't. Am I making sense? Because I'm starting to feel like at this point I'm rambling.

Anyway, being independently driven on my journey is rewarding and hassle-free. If you like community, awesome. But obviously not for everyone. This isn't to show off conceit but share my frustration with spiritualists as a whole. Most of them waste my time and offer nothing.

😘❤ Good night y'all!

Check out my store where I offer detailed and credible readings. Please note that pricing is subject to change.

Please visit: Twin 🔥 Medium

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog run by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and 💩 at channelingerik.com.

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[bigskydreaming]

fhalkfhaklfhlkak i hate this

TW really truly literally ruined the word ‘spark’ for me. Like the whole damn word. I hear it now and I’m like, NOPE, like...idk, some people who cringe when they hear the word moist or panties. Apologies to anyone who hates those words and cringed, i dont actually know if thats a thing or if like, I just have weird friends. Probably just the latter.

But anyways, Im just like...lmfao. Its so visceral too? Like I have this one original project, Waveriders, that I’ve been fiddling with off and on in the background of other projects for awhile, might have talked about it on here, idk, I don’t keep track. 

Basically its a far future sci-fi novel/setting for linked shorter works set on a gas giant that was settled by humans who figured that they can’t possibly be stepping on anyone’s toes there, its a freaking gas giant, hello, no one’s home, right? They literally have to make their own ground by using technology to form anti-gravity wells in the habitable zone of the atmosphere and like, make floating cities and then these kind of buoys scattered across the planet that create these electromagnetic currents that flow in specific ‘routes’ between the cities, and people travel between them in these flying ships that use magnetized hulls and solar sails to ride these currents, and blah blah blah, yada yada yada, bc like, why would I resist an opportunity to have floating cities and sky pirates and ancient cyborg machine dragons? Doesn’t make sense. 

Anyway, so couple thousand years after settling this planet, and by then for Plotty Reasons there are people who have what’s called waveriding abilities, like they can ‘hack’ certain wavelengths or types of energy and manipulate them in various ways, but only one kind of energy per person, and they each have their own little names and niches. 

So, y’know, basically just like ATLA, except for like, its energy powers and there are cyborg machine dragons and floating cities and sky pirates, obvsly. Plus areas of totally fucked up gravity called the badlands that are all like, criminal underworld metropolis because normal people are like lol nope, we like it when up is up and down is down, all of this is very just...nope. And also because shocking and totally unexpected plot twist, they were totally wrong about the planet being uninhabited just cuz it didn’t have Earth type ground...like, so in addition and on top of and in conjunction with all of the above and whatnot, there are these beings called Chaos Angels, that are basically like sentient quantum waveforms that can take any shape or appearance, but just, have no physical substance and yet are really good at faking that they’re not totally there when they fuck with humans, which they do a lot, because well. Why not, y’know?

But other than that, its exactly like ATLA. I’m a derivative hack. I disgust myself, truly I do.

BUT the point of this particular synaptic misfire aka ADHD ramble, is that so, okay, these different types of not!benders are all called waveriders as an overall umbrella term, but with ten different subsets of this in total, right? So people who can ‘hack’ light and manipulate it in various ways are called brightriders, and people who are tuned into soundwaves are called echo-riders, and some can manipulate the more electricity-skewed side of the electromagnetic spectrum and those are shockriders and the ones who skew more to the magnetic side are steelriders but I’m probably gonna change that because it sounds like a porno? Yeah no, just saw it outside of my notes for the first time and can confirm, definitely sounds like a porno so they’re not gonna be called steel-riders, but they will be called something steel-rider-esque. You get it.

And then there are the five weird ones that people aren’t totally quite sure how their waveriding shticks work because the kinds of energy they hack aren’t like....the kinds that work in the same way as the others with their easily discernible and patternistic wavelengths, and scientists and scholars are always arguing like but skyriders aren’t even in the same FIELD as the other waverider types because gravity isn’t even an actual ENERGY, just because we talk about gravity waves doesn’t mean they’re remotely the same thing as lightwaves, they make no SENSE, and I’m just like hahaha, I am your god, fictional scientists. Fucking deal with it. Plus it does make sense, you just don’t know the Secret Rules and Logistics that I do, pfft. 

Anyway, so the other types are boomriders who hack kinetic energy and skyriders of course obviously manipulate gravity, and then the last three are really weird, and super rare and thus don’t really have set names and just have lots of nicknames and are often just thought to be rumors. So those are the bio-riders who manipulate chemical energy though it often gets mistakenly referred to or just handwaved as being ‘life energy’ as though that’s a thing, ugh future way advanced people are so dumb sometimes, honestly. But so they can manipulate biological processes in various ways and do things with healing and also hurting, and basically just don’t piss one off ever. Like. You’ll die. And then there’s the psi-riders, who are essentially psychics and hack brainwaves, and I’m not at all bitter that I lack the balls to just go for broke and call them ghost riders like I want to, because ghost riders obviously sounds way cooler?? But also, Marvel would definitely sue?? Because they’re just, like that. 

And like, the last of the Weird Ones are the ones so super rare and also so hard to actually....tell if someone actually IS one, that most people think they don’t actually even exist and are just an unsubstantiated like, theoretical idea some scientist had once while high and then just, never shut up about so eventually the idea caught on. And those are the quantum-riders, or luck-riders, basically they theoretically manipulate quantum wavelengths in ways that are almost impossible to identify, like theoretically they wouldn’t even know they were doing it? Anyway, so lots of times, what are actually quantum-riders are just jealously thought to be like, really fucking lucky assholes. Even though the way their powers work really don’t have anything to do with luck or even probability, specifically, like that’s a simplistic approximation and its more like they manipulate possibilities but also shut up me, nobody cares.

ANYWAY, people who can count and who actually bothered to would probably notice by now like the funky little geniuses they are that all of those still only adds up to nine. And that’s because of the last one, the one that SHOULD go up in the brightrider, shockrider, notpornIswear!steel-rider hierarchy or taxidermy or whatever the fuck. And these are the ones who manipulate what’s essentially thermal energy, or more accurately the microwave-skewing side of the ultraviolet spectrum whereas brightriders are just the ones who skew more to the infrared side of it.

And the long and short of all of this Unnecessary-ness and the source of my fit of pique and ensuing ramble-palooza....is that ORIGINALLY, they were SUPPOSED to be called sparkriders.

But OBVIOUSLY I can’t call them that anymore, because like. I tried, and I was like ugh you drama queen slash whiny pissbaby, it was just a shitty teen supernatural show and SPARK WAS NEVER EVEN CANON, do not let THEM win and ruin a perfectly good classification name! But I did. I did let it ruin them, and its. Well. Its a problem, because I kept thinking up ways to kill off the sparkrider characters for absolutely no reason at all instead of like....thinking up ways to make the plot do what it was outlined to do in their parts of the story.

This may come like, way out of left field, and just SHOCK and STUN and BEWILDER some of you, like....no way, srsly? But yeah, true story, among my many canon mental neuroses like ADHD, PTSD, magical depression hour and super fun anxiety like....there is a tiny possibility (aka actual diagnosis) that while I don’t talk about this much, or ever really, I do have a smidge of ye old OCD? Its not like, a big thing and doesn’t really affect my daily routines and that’s pretty much why I never usually bring it up or list it alongside the rest of the crap on my neurodivergence resumé or whatever, because like, there’s already WAY too many misconceptions out there about what OCD actually is and what constitutes it, and tons of people are always jokingly but also thinking they’re kinda half serious, like ‘oh I’m so OCD about this and this and that’ and its like. LOL. Are you though? You sure?

Anyway, but point being, the way mine manifests for me is like...not actually a problem? Like, I don’t actually have any REAL complaints about it at all, just half-assed little fits of pique ones like this, which is the other part of why I never bring it up, because too often ppl just can’t fathom that OCD or even any kind of neurodivergence can be...WANTED, or a good thing, and lololol, that’s ableism, folks. But its true, I don’t actually mind mine at all, even if it occasionally makes things frustrating, when I get stuck like I am now. But the flip side of it is....its actually a pretty huge part of my creativity and just the way my mind works in general....like, what people accredit to me being particularly insightful about character analysis or drawing connections or stuff like that in meta or fics or my novels or worldbuilding...that’s what it is. That’s my OCD in action. 

My brain like...REQUIRES that I find patterns in....pretty much everything. Even day to day mundane stuff too, though like I said, its mild enough there that it doesn’t fuck with my routines too much, but like, I have to order things into nice, neat patterns and groupings. And if there aren’t any that are immediately obvious, I kinda pretty much HAVE to dig deeper until I find some on a slightly deeper level, something beneath the surface or first glance, and keep going until I find something.....or worst case scenario, I have to like....add stuff and embellish and fill in gaps with my own ‘content’ until I have the rough edges rounded off into something that CAN be stacked neatly atop some other part of the story or whatever it is I’m focusing on? And the obsessive-compulsive part for me is like, lol, I gotta find it SOMEWHERE, SOMEHOW. 

My brain literally won’t shut off or grudgingly accept being diverted to a different subject until I’ve made some kind of pattern or flowchart or classification system. It will literally keep me up for hours, going over the same things over and over from every angle until I find SOME way to....reassemble or restructure it in some nice, neat little order of some type. I mean that’s basically what it is. My brain insists on me forming some semblance of order out of any glimpse I have of what I would otherwise term creative chaos. And it won’t give up until it gets what it wants, which when you throw in my ADHD and how often I’ll get derailed off on slight tangents but with my OCD then sooner or later forcing me back to the original focus, rinse and repeat ad nauseam....like. LOL. I learned to operate on very little sleep from a pretty young age by necessity, its just...my brain, dudes. Its just like that.

But the perks are like, I pretty much think this is WHY I’m so creative....because my brain, for as long as I can remember, has always just kinda....forced me to be? Also probably has a lot to do with well...eh, I don’t need to talk about that right now. Whatever. Anyway, point being, so....I do like the end results very much so, and for all its....Why Must You Be Like This eccentricities, I’m quite attached to my brain and would not be very likely to agree to a trade even were one possible. I mean don’t get me wrong, I could do without the PTSD and anxiety, if we’re just, like....talking some pruning shears or whatever, but the actual creative machinery, I’m keeping. Ultimately it just means I really fucking like patterns and finding patterns or making patterns where previously there were none, or at least none that were easy to spot.

But ugh, man, these are the rare times when I’m like omg, just call it a day, we don’t ACTUALLY have to come up with the perfect replacement name for that one relatively small and insignificant detail of a much larger story that isn’t even in the Top Ten list of my main priorities at the moment. And my asshole of a brain is just like....yeah no, we gotta. You know the rules dude, you decided it was official, that name didn’t work anymore and was never gonna, so now we gotta find a replacement or else things will be UNEVEN?? The pattern will be...missing a piece? There will be CHAOS AND ANARCHY IN THE STREETS THAT RUNNETH OVER WITH BLOOD? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT??

And so I’m like....literally sitting here googling synonyms for spark because I’m just like that sometimes, lmfao. Oh and of course its gotta be a GOOD replacement, naturally. I can’t just shoehorn in a somewhat acceptable substitute that in the back of my mind I’m expecting to only be temporary, until I come up with something better. See, because my brain will KNOW, and it will NOT be okay with that, because that is CHEATING. And my brain, apparently, has strong feelings about cheating, which is weird and fairly unexpected of me, IMO.

Anyway, kudos to anyone who actually read through that instead of scrolling, I honestly have zero idea why I felt like sharing it, I just did and thus I did. *shrugs* 

[mpmwrites]

“stop making empty promises!” or “maybe in another world.” for Hankvin || or || “i love you.” and “well, it’s the thought that counts.” for reed900

Hey I did them all! They’re already up on AO3, but here they are together! Partners, Hurt, Lesson, and Enough

Partners

“Oh, you dick!” Gavin seethed with mock annoyance. “It’s afuckin’ partner game, you just intentionally knocked me out!” He complained,straightening before slumping back into the couch at Hank’s side. Hank chuckedat his frustration and sat back too as the chime of coins being awarded to themblipped on the screen.

“It’s just fucking Mario Party, Gav. We both get coinseither way.” He sported a genuine smile at Gavin, both from the company and therare time they got to just have fun together.

“Yeah, but we’re still losing! I refuse to fucking letDaisy beat me.” Gavin explained as he leaned forward to take his turn.

“Us, beat us. Partner game.” Hank goaded, smilingto himself.

“Fuck off.” Gavin scowled as the mini-game screenappeared.

“Oh I’m good at this one.” Hank smirked, Gavinglared sideways at him.

“You’re only good at it because I’m not.”

“That might be true, but it’s kind of funny how shityou are at the timing games.” Hank said as the game started with arhythmic whistle. A cheerful song played and they began trying to punctuate thenotes with shakes of their controllers. Gavin missed the first, and the second,and didn’t fail to notice how Hank got each of them perfectly. On the thirdone, he elbowed Hank quickly. “Hey, asshole. That’s cheating.”

“Maybe.” He leaned against Hank on the fourthpass, harsher, but grinning. “You the Mario Party Police?”

“Gavin, you can fuck with me all you want, but you’restill gonna lose this one.” Hank chuckled, shrugging the smaller man awayfrom him forcefully. Gavin fell to the cushions in an overly dramatic reaction,laughing with mirth as he stretched his sock-covered feet into Hank’s lap and accidentally made Hank drop thecontroller.

“Doesn’t mean you’re gonna win.” he shrugged when Hankswung an incredulous look on him. The shit-eating grin he held barely abatedhis laughter at Hank’s shock.

“I’m gonna kick your ass next time we playversus.” Hank promised, giving a weak punch to Gavin’s thigh beforepushing his feet back onto the floor. Gavin took the hint and sat back up,their shoulders pressed together comfortably.

“Stop making empty promises.” Gavin teased as Hankstarted his next dice roll and he let his head drop to Hank’s shoulder.

Hurt

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Gavin laughed,rolling his eyes, though he felt like shaking apart from a different emotionentirely. Hank didn’t answer immediately, and Gavin was yelling again,“This whole time, this whole fuckingtime you’ve been planning this, haven’t you?!” Shirtless, he flicked ahand through his hair,  his other fisttensing and digging short nails into the heel of his palm. “Just leadingme on until you thought you didn’t have a goddamn choice!”

“I never fucking lied to you, Gav.” Hank’s voice,though he wasn’t yelling, was obviously straining to keep his tone even andrestrained. “You knew about Nat before we even started this shit.” Heavoided eye contact, knowing that it would only make this whole thing worse. Justlooking at Gavin in just those navy sweatpants that he liked to put on, withnothing underneath, when he knew Hank was coming over was enough to shootanother bolt of guilt through him. He felt too warm, but knew taking off hisjacket would be some kind of concession, one he couldn’t allow himself.

“Yeah I fuckin’ knew! Fuck, I’m so fuckingstupid.” Gavin seethed, beginning to pace on the sealed concrete floors ofhis reclaimed apartment. Hank watched the way his shoulders flexed with pent upanger and had to forcibly ignore the pang of lust that the sight ignited.

“Don’t say that. It’s my damn fault.” Hankadmitted. “I shouldn’t have let this go so fucking far.” Because,that was really the truth of it. He was dating Natalie for only two weeksbefore Gavin had transferred into central, and had been precariously balancingthe two of them for two months before he caved and let Gavin blow him after adinner date with Nat. He knew then, that Nat was maybe who he could settle downwith, but he wasn’t gonna be able to just walk away from Gavin.

He told Gavin a week after he proposed that they should stopall of it. Gavin answered by dragging him to his bedroom and keeping him up allnight. Part of Hank wanted this argument to end the same way. A big part of him.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” Gavin wasn’t yellinganymore, but he breathed spite. “Takes two to fucking tango.”

“Yeah, and when there’s three you start tripping overeach other’s feet.” Hank bit back. “I tried this months ago, Gavin.I’m fucking sorry that you wouldn’tlet me, and that I couldn’t make myself actually do it.” He sighed. Gavinstopped moving, looking at his feet with his arms wrapped around his chest.Hank recognized the same look from that night exactly eight and a half monthsago, because Gavin looked so small and hurt and that was exactly why Hank wasdoing it all over again. Gavin was trying to hide all of it from Hank, and Hankwas pretty sure the worst part of it was the fact the he could see Gavin falling apart from theinside.  "She doesn’t deserve this,Gavin, you have to know that.“

"Yeah, and I fucking do.” The final word came out as a sob and Gavin flinched atthe restraint that failed him. He raised a furious palm to his face to rub hiseyes. “Fuck.” He cursed at himself, turning away from Hank. Hankmoved closer anyway, standing just behind Gavin and feeling like an ass. Which,he knew, he definitely was.

“You don’t.” Was all Hank could think to say.Gavin spun on him, all wet cheeks and fury as he shoved Hank as hard as hecould.

“If you really fucking believed that, this wouldn’t behappening. I don’t know what the fuck you thought was going to happen tonight, Anderson.” That solidified thetruth for Hank, and he knew enough just to keep his mouth shut. “Did youthink that you were gonna show up and tell me this and I was just gonna smileand nod?! Maybe in another world, Hank! I don’t give a fuck about her feelings!I don’t fucking care if this is the right thing to do! I’m selfish and I’msaying that this isn’t fucking okay! You can’t make it be okay! She doesn’t even have a goddamn clue about any ofthis and I’m the one that has to just fucking sit here and be the one leftbehind while you get your shitty white fucking fence!” His voice grewhoarse as he ranted, a deep red flush traveling down his neck.

Hank wanted to yell back. He wanted to tell Gavin that thisdidn’t feel good for him either. He needed Gavin to know that he was right, andthis wasn’t fair. He wanted Gavin to hurtthe way he was; to tell him that Gavin wasn’t capable of committing the waythat she was, and that’s what Hank had been waiting to see in Gavin over thepast two years.

He didn’t say anything as Gavin panted, waiting for aretort.

He stepped closer, and planted a kiss on Gavin’s cheek, andsaid goodbye.

Lesson

Gavin smiled as RK manipulated the fingers on his righthand. Sitting across from the android at Starbucks, they’d taken their lunchbreak as another lesson in communication. Learning sign was easy enough, butGavin struggled with matching his expressions properly to the motion of hishands. True, there were times when he had to ask RK to fingerspell a sign hehadn’t learned yet, or encourage him to slow down, please, but they weregetting there.

Pointer, pinky, and thumb extended, RK released his hand, satisfiedwith its arrangement.

“What’s that mean?” Gavin spoke.

‘I, L, Y’ the successive letters came in quick response. Ifall letters were presented at the same time, it formed the sign that Gavin hadbeen shown. Gavin waited for further explanation.

RK pointed to himself, crossed his arms, and then pointed toGavin.

Gavin started back at his honest expression, not surewhether or not this was all a genuine confession or simply a lesson he waslooking to closely at. After a beat, RK was signing frantically, his eyesshifting way nervously and Gavin caught less than half of what he was saying.

“Slow down, I can't…” Gavin protested, shaking hishead. “RK.” He tried again, his voice louder. The android froze,looking stunned. “You serious?” He implored carefully.

‘Gavin, I love you.’ RK repeated, frowning slightly. 'I’msorry.’

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Gavin sighed,“I love you too.”

Enough

Gavin swung opened his front door as he took off his jacket,tossing it on the recliner nearby and toeing off his shoes quickly.“Hey,” He greeted the android currently seated on his couch,engrossed in something on Gavin’s portable. Rafe didn’t move in the slightest,offing no greeting. Gavin moved over to the couch, leaning over the back of itto look over Rafe’s shoulder “I said Hey.What’re you so interested in?” Before Rafe switched over to the whiteboardapp, Gavin caught a look at a website he’d seen before. The site wasn’tsomething Gavin used personally, but had seen Rafe use to find techs that couldperform repairs or software changes if he needed them. He had told Gavin thatsince Cyberlife had done little for his well being, he had no interest infurther interference form the company, reclaimed or not.

'Nothing of importance. Welcome home.’ Rafe doodled on theblank screen, offering a smile that Gavin had seen him practicing in the mirrorbefore. The whiteboard app wasn’t as efficient as simply offering Gavin aninstant text readout of Rafe’s thoughts, but Rafe preferred the personal aspectof writing them himself.

“Don’t say it’s fuckin’ nothing.” Gavin frowned,reaching for the device. Rafe held it out of his reach and fitted Gavin with anannoyed look.

'You have no concept of privacy.’

“Yeah, you’re using myportable. I don’t know if it counts as invading your privacy.” Gavinsmiled, hopping over the back of the sectional and landing half in Rafe’s lap.“Just fucking tell me.” Gavin frowned, leaning heavily on theandroid.

'I unintentionally insulted you this morning.’

“Shit happens.” Gavin shrugged, though he felt a pangof hurt at the memory of the argument.

'It would not have happened if I was fully functioning.’ Theexplanation was written smaller, the letters formed slowly and withapprehension. Gavin’s eyes twitched over the words and he straightened.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You never saidyou were hurt.” Again, that same feeling rang through his chest, tintedwith guilt at having not noticed.

'You misunderstand. I am not hurt.’ Rafe offered quickly. Heerased it again almost as quickly as Gavin could read it. 'I am trying to findsomeone who can install an auditory output function.’ The admission came with afrown, his eyes downcast.

“You want to talk.”

'Yes.’

“Why?” Gavin frowned harder, his eyebrows creasingtogether, “I mean, you never said so before and now all of a sudden?Because of this morning? Did I fucking make you feel like you need it?”Gavin stood, tension keeping him from staying still.

'No. I want to communicate with you.’ The writinggrew slightly less precise as Rafe rushed what he wanted to say. Gavin crossedhis arms.

“You don’t get to fucking say that when you won’t evenexplain to me what the fuck is going on.” He watched as Rafe blinkedslowly, his face remaining impassive. He shook his head briefly as his handwent white where it held the portable up in front of him. Words began fillingthe screen, almost faster than Gavin could read them. His lips parted as hiseyes flickered back and forth to take in what Rafe had to say.

'Like this morning and just now, I can only show you text. Icannot give you inflection or emphasis or feelingin what I wish to say to you. It’s become challenging for you and I to enjoyeach other’s company because of this. You misunderstand what I say because Icannot express it properly, and it frustrates me to see you upset. The logicalanswer seemed to repair my faults so that when I tell you I Love You, you canunderstand how I feel.’

He watched as Gavin read, tension bleeding off of him in thesilence and the ease visibly showing in his posture. When the text stoppedscrolling, he watched Gavin’s eyes pass between his face and the screen severaltimes. He watched as Gavin hung his head for a moment, rubbing his eyes andbiting his lip, exactly the way he usually did when he was fighting over whichthoughts were anxiety and unnecessary irritation. He waited as Gavin foughtagainst himself for what he really wanted to say.

“You know, I’m not that great at this either.”There was still a rough, defensive edge to his words “And my voice worksjust fuckin’ fine.” he sighed, dropping back to the couch with one legfolded under him. He ran a hand through his hair briskly.

'I know.’

“Yeah, well, you should know then, that having or nothaving a damn voice isn’t what makes you a shitty communicator.” Hefinally looked up to meet Rafe’s eyes, then looked away again. “I like youjust fine the way you are.” He admitted quietly. “It’s the thoughtthat counts, but I don’t need you to change for me.” he nodded, staringdown the cat, who was listening intently to his every word. He shifted slightlyand looked to Rafe again, holding his gaze. “But it’s important to you,and I’m going to try to be a better listener.” He made an attempt at anapologetic smile, “Can’t that be enough?” He begged.

Rafe lurched toward him, dropping the tablet to the cushionbetween them and enveloping Gavin in a grateful embrace.

[ncfan-1]

Gotham 04X16, ‘One of My Three Soups’

So, this is Ben McKenzie's second episode as a director. He didn't write this episode as well, so I don't anticipate it being as good as the episode he did write, but I'm interested to see what kind of visual style he has. This is Gotham.

And the dashboard is doing that thing where it doesn’t know what apostrophes are. What the hell.

- Okay, I am going to make three predictions for this episode. Here they are.

1) Jim Gordon is not going to express any meaningful remorse. By that, I mean he isn’t going to express any sort of remorse that I believe could actually lead somewhere.

2) Having been recast, Jonathan Crane will have a completely different personality and set of motivations, and there will be no continuity between Tahan!Jonathan and Thompson!Jonathan’s characters.

3) Selina will join Jerome because ‘Long Halloween’ reasons.

4) There will be horrible depictions of ableism in Arkham Asylum.

Now, I am going into this hoping that all of these predictions will be proven wrong. To be fair, #1 is low-hanging fruit and I’m not likely to be proven wrong there, but I always hope this show will be better than it has been, even though I know that’s unlikely.

- We open with one of the guards in Arkham reading a wrestling magazine.

- And I think we’ve found out what the protocol for going to deal with Jervis is. Listen to loud music so he can’t hypnotize you, and keep the man in solitary so he has less access to victims. And… I’m right. I know Jervis is a horrible person, but the effects of solitary confinement on inmates, especially when they aren’t allowed human contact, are well-documented.

- So it turns out Jervis and Jonathan are buddies. I know he’s been recast, but I’ll remind you that Jonathan is a teenage boy, no matter who’s playing him. Jervis… is the last person I want to be alone with a child.

- Seems Jerome and Jonathan don’t particularly get along.

- And, as with List!Ivy, in Thompson!Jonathan’s characterization it appears that the writers seem to believe that creepiness is a suitable substitute for character. It’s not. He sounds like a caricature of himself, but Thompson does seem like he’s trying his damnedest.

I will note one more thing. Since Jonathan is, at the oldest, eighteen years old, and he never finished high school, I don’t think he’s a good candidate to be making lock-melting acid in his cell’s toilet. Also, why do they let him wear that burlap sack over his head? The first time he rolls onto his stomach while he sleeps he’s in danger of suffocating. Though, it could be the staff is hoping for that to happen. They treated him like absolute shit, it sounds like, but if none of them acknowledge their own culpability in what Jonathan’s become, it’s likely none of them like him too much after the first time he raised hell in there.

- And apparently this is Jim’s first night out of the hospital.

- Oh, Jervis, I’ve missed you. You’re a horrible person and I’ve missed you. Benedict Samuel is a gift from God.

- We seem to have some interpersonal tension between Jim and Bullock.

- The two of them pull up to where Jervis is waiting. We have a hypnotized couple in wedding garb… standing beneath a wrecking ball. I know most of my readers have seen the promo. You know where this is going.

- Seriously, why doesn’t Jervis have a massive scar on his neck?

- And the mind of Jervis Tetch is as miserable and disturbing a place as ever, his memory as self-serving as ever.

- I don’t remember Jervis rhyming this much in Season 3.

- And when Jervis lifts his hold over the thugs, they start crowing like roosters.

- Bruce and Selina head to the GCPD so they can read Jerome’s file.

- Barbara, sweetheart, alcohol isn’t going to do anything for your migraine.

- Poor Barbara. She’s in a horrible position right now.

- “It hurts too much.” Barbara…

- Of course, Tabitha… I think she means well this time (I think). But Tabitha is not one of my favorites at the best of times, and she’s not endearing herself to me right now.

- Flashback time!

- I hate that this makes me ship Ra’s/Barbara a little more. But even if it’s only to manipulate her, he sounds like he’s the only person who’s ever bothered to really listen to her.

- Yeah, I’m pretty sure this is just manipulation. But I like ships with messed-up dynamics sometimes.

- So we’ve got Jerome, Jervis, Jonathan, Ivy, and the League of Shadows set to all be raising hell in Gotham at once. This show is about to get a bit narratively crowded.

- And we have rows upon rows of hypnotized people standing on rooftops, waiting to jump at the stroke of midnight. No, Jim, a net is not going to work. What you need is a lot of nets. And soon.

- Jerome’s uncle lives in Gotham. What? I suppose that’s where the twin might come into things. And apparently Bruce feels responsible for what Jerome does.

- As ever, I like Bruce and Selina’s interactions. It’s one of the emotional touchstones of the show, so it’s good that their dynamic is so… good.

- Jerome is, as ever, a bit boring. Here’s another character where the writers think creepiness is a suitable substitute for character.

- His uncle’s vile.

- A ton of extras snuck into the Sirens’ club.

- Harvey’s found the radio station Jervis was broadcasting from. And Jervis had a special signal for him.

- So, we’ve seen Jervis and Jerome. Where’s Jonathan, anyways? He doesn’t exactly come across as an equal partner in this little coalition the three of them have formed. I wonder if Jervis isn’t keeping him close at hand.

- Jim’s at the radio station.

- And we come back to Jerome, Jerome’s vile uncle, the strong man, and the “soup.” The literally boiling soup. Bruce walks in and is suitably horrified.

- Jerome came to his uncle for a reason. I wonder what it is he wants to know.

- And apparently no woman has ever led the League of Shadows. The sexist man who wanted to depose her promptly gets stabbed. And it turns out the rest of them want the top spot, too.

- Jervis needs to learn to lock doors so people can’t put guns to his head.

- Jim basically tells Jervis that he’ll torture him ‘till he does what he wants. And then he follows through. Our hero, everybody.

- What is it with this show and hand trauma?! It really is somebody’s fetish, isn’t it!

- Jim, why didn’t you get the nets? You could have avoided this, you asshole.

- Selina intervenes at the diner. She tries to kill Jerome, only for Bruce to stop her. What Selina wants, basically, is for Bruce to actually live his life and not be burdened with guilt.

- Barbara steps up as a brand-new evil overlord. This… is a good look for her. I hope you have a good story arc, Barbara!

- And Jim has a moment where he eats humble pie. Not sure he learned anything for the long-term, but he looks appropriately tired.

- So Jim and Harvey are calling it a day. Jim doesn’t think he belongs here; he thinks he belongs in jail. Harvey agrees, but he tries to give him some feel-good thing about saving the people on the ledge. It rings hollow.

- Jim… actually apologizes to Harvey for judging him. I’m shocked. In a good way, but I’m still shocked.

- Bruce calls up Jim to tell him he’s going to the school Jerome was looking for.

- We end with Jervis in a fucking muzzle (I have no words—it is equal parts amusing and appalling), when Jerome and Jonathan come to rescue him. Jervis looks genuinely happy to see them. I’m almost touched. They all seem to be genuinely fond of each other—well, Jerome and Jonathan don’t, but apparently they cooperated long enough to rescue Jervis without getting into a brawl, so that’s something.

Okay, so predictions.

1) Jim Gordon is not going to express any meaningful remorse. By that, I mean he isn’t going to express any sort of remorse that I believe could actually lead somewhere.

Not sure with this one. Yes, he did express some guilt, but I’m not sure that it’s going to go anywhere. Every time Jim says something about feeling guilty, Harvey says something to him trying to convince him not to follow through on his guilt and come clean about… everything, really.

2) Having been recast, Jonathan Crane will have a completely different personality and set of motivations, and there will be no continuity between Tahan!Jonathan and Thompson!Jonathan’s characters.

Looks like this one was true. I’ll save the rant about internal consistency for another episode, because honestly, it was hard to get a good read on him. Jonathan felt a lot less like a character this episode than he did a plot device. He was basically in it just to produce a lock-melting acid that it seems frankly implausible he would have known how to produce or had the materials to produce it with, given his education stopped at ninth grade, and that’s it. Much like Tahan!Jonathan, it felt like he only existed when the show needed him to exist, and when it didn’t, he got shoved back in the box of non-existence and everyone forgot he existed. Watsonianly, it adds to that sense I got, that Jonathan is not an equal partner with Jerome and Jervis. I’ll be interested to see if that actually goes somewhere.

As an aside, the idea that Jervis and Jonathan have interacted enough to know each other and be friendly is just… It makes my skin crawl, okay. Because I love Jervis, but he really does give off “I have candy in my van” vibes, and aside from Jim Gordon, every adult we’ve ever seen Jonathan Crane interact with has abused and exploited him in some way. And it’s not like Jervis isn’t an abuser. I’m looking to see where their apparent relationship goes, with much less eagerness.

And my personal suspicion about the “personality face lift” for Jonathan Crane here is that Tahan was perhaps just a bit too good at making him vulnerable and sympathetic for the higher-up’s liking. Like I said earlier, Thompson is clearly trying his damnedest—I rarely come across an actor in this show who seems to be sleepwalking through the part—but “sympathetic” and “vulnerable” is clearly not what the writing’s going for here. “Cartoonish, two-dimensional supervillain” is more like what the writing’s going for here. (Prove me wrong, Gotham. Prove me wrong, please.)

3) Selina will join Jerome because ‘Long Halloween’ reasons.

Didn’t happen. THANK GOD. This was the one I was the most afraid about. I suppose there’s still time for it to happen, but it makes even less sense now than before.

4) There will be horrible depictions of ableism in Arkham Asylum.

Happened. Ugh. I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. Oh, wait, I am mad.

Well, at least the dynamic between the villain triple-act was interesting.

[shenanigumi]

Δ

It all starts with a question: “What are you thinking about?”

They’re supposed to be studying, but all thoughts of the upcoming test have long since fallen by the wayside. But then again, it’s hardly unusual for Souji to scatter Chizuru’s thoughts at this point. Especially since she has by now discovered that one of his favorite pastimes is cuddling—and, despite not thinking of herself as a tactile kind of person, Chizuru cannot help but relax into his touch.

Despite the fact that Chizuru is lucky enough to be able to call herself Heisuke’s girlfriend, and everyone knows it, Souji still holds a fascination for her she can’t explain… and that attraction has been mutually acknowledged between the two of them. Perhaps that’s why they’re always so quiet in between more superficial conversations; some subjects are more dangerous than others, and it’s hard to avoid certain ones of them in such close proximity.

But it’s Souji this time who’s staring into nothingness, lying on his stomach beside her, propped up on his elbows. A small sigh is Chizuru’s only indication that he’s thinking about anything at all, but her senses always seem sharper around him, so she notices, and frowns. Normally, it’s her thoughts that are more often guessed; she never did learn to conceal them. It’s rare for someone like Souji to get this wrapped up in his head.

So Chizuru asks her question.

Souji doesn’t respond immediately, and when he does, it starts with half a laugh. “I betray myself,” he says, maybe-exaggerating-and-maybe-not as usual, and fans his fingers across his face. “How do I say this without sounding like an asshole…” He isn’t talking to her, just muttering to himself, but Chizuru’s heart beats a little more quickly all the same. That doesn’t sound good.

But before she can open her mouth to say never mind, he doesn’t have to try to say whatever it is if he doesn’t want, he continues. “I was thinking about kissing you,” confesses Souji all at once, and Chizuru’s heart stops. “But then I thought, no, that’d make things messy.” He looks at her sideways, a glint of curiosity in his expressive green eyes. “But then I thought… would she be mad if I did it anyway?”

Chizuru opens her mouth, then closes it again, feeling herself flush. Heisuke’s image seems blurry in her mind, an abstract connection her body can’t quite make in the moment. Of course she already knows she has no choice but to say no, but when Souji is looking at her like this… She can’t think straight, indistinct thoughts fluttering around her head like trapped insects. She may write as a hobby, but the words don’t come.

“I’m…” begins Chizuru, making a valiant effort to meet his eyes, but can barely hear herself over her pounding heart. “I’d… love to, but… I… can’t. I’m sorry.” Souji spoke of betrayal, but he cannot begin to imagine the extent to which she has betrayed herself. She intended only to be polite, but her choice of words wasn’t exactly a lie, and he knows it. Now Souji has a foothold in her psyche, lost ground Chizuru knows she can never regain.

But he doesn’t use it against her. Not yet. He just smiles—maybe a little disappointed, but certainly not surprised—and changes the subject.

Chizuru didn’t know one face could have so many features until Souji starts pointing hers out, one by one. He’s always focused on faces, ever since he can remember. He enjoys studying people’s reactions, and to hear him tell it, trying not to react counts as a reaction. Maybe that’s why he enjoys teasing Chizuru so much; it’s easy to provoke her, fluster her… manipulate her.

Maybe Souji is just seeing how far he can push her, but Chizuru cannot bring herself to care. Heisuke is sweet to her, but his compliments are clumsy to the point of incoherence. Souji has a silver tongue, speaking of her beauty in small and specific ways. Good lips and laugh lines. Good nose, button but not upturned. Good cheekbones, nice chin, strong jawline. Good eyes, clear, like melted chocolate, somewhere between milk and dark. And her hair frames her face perfectly.

And Souji likes Chizuru’s hair, running his fingers through its silky strands, nails grown out just a little too long and brushing her scalp so that she can barely suppress her shivers. But she can’t bring herself to tell him to stop, because deep down, she doesn’t want him to stop. She likes his touch, his nimble fingers. A lot. Too much.

In the interest of fairness, Chizuru tries to tell Souji what exactly she likes about him too, but she finds that—along with her breath—he has stolen all the words she might have used. For her, it is no single feature of his, but his very being that fascinates her, the fact that his appearance fits his personality so precisely. She cannot divide the totality of his self into smaller segments, much less explain the exact aesthetics of his face.

But Souji seems to understand, and lets the conversation lapse as Chizuru rolls onto her back, staring fixedly at the ceiling. There’s no way she can face him anymore. This peculiar and unprecedented concoction of emotions pulsing through her veins is beginning to interfere with even her stubborn self-control. In the moment, clinging to her sense of obligation to Heisuke feels much less satisfying than indulging Souji.

“There,” whispers Souji, tracing his finger slowly from her forehead—along her nose—across her lips, one and then the other—over her chin—and down her throat to her neckline. “It’s not a perfect silhouette. But it’s close.”

Silence ensues, as Chizuru has no response to such a softly spoken sentiment, but is shattered within the minute with a return to the subject they’ve avoided for so long. “I still wanna do it,” says Souji suddenly, sounding more than a little pained as he buries his face in a pillow, and Chizuru swallows a groan. Why did he have to bring that up at such a charged moment?

“I—I know,” manages Chizuru, blushing all over again. “Me, too. But… I can’t. I’m sorry.” Even her determination, her fear of hurting Heisuke by letting things progress too far, has grown tangibly weaker. A single reason, no matter how important it may be, seems too little to resist.

“Restraint is easy!” exclaims Souji, gathering her close, and Chizuru squeaks automatically as his hands maybe-accidentally brush past her posterior. “Child’s play!” And his face is so close, nestled in the crook of her neck so she can feel his breath as he speaks. She thinks she feels his mouth press against her skin—but his lips aren’t puckered. It isn’t a kiss, but a compromise. (Not enough, thinks Chizuru, before she can stop herself.)

But Souji sees her thinking too much again, and nudges her earlobe with his nose to draw her out of her thoughts. It works: Chizuru fidgets, but doesn’t shy away, her body still drinking in his touch. “Wh-what are you doing…?” she manages, struggling to look at him.

Souji just shrugs, pulling back so that their cheeks brush together. “Intrusive thought,” he explains, a half-sheepish sparkle in his eye. “All my willpower is going into not kissing you. I can’t help anything else.”

Trying to suppress the color rising to her cheeks once more, Chizuru closes her eyes rather than try to meet Souji’s. But then, for a split second, his teeth are on her neck, and she stiffens, eyes flying open again—but his touch is gone again almost as soon as she registers it.

“Intrusive thought,” says Souji again, and smiles. “Don’t worry about it.”

A few more hours pass them by, full of ambiguous tension, but Chizuru cannot bring herself to tell Souji to leave. Precarious as this situation may be, she cannot deny that she enjoys his company. Yes, she enjoys his flirtation, his forwardness, how easily he can articulate feelings and sensations—so unlike Heisuke’s awkward, sincere innocence.

(But the two of them don’t coexist well in her head. Just as Souji rarely enters her head when she is with Heisuke, she finds it difficult to concentrate on her love for Heisuke when she is with Souji.)

Chizuru comes back to herself in time to catch Souji yawning, and that isn’t the first time. He seems to be fading fast, and she doesn’t want to keep him so long that driving home will be dangerous. “You’d better go,” says Chizuru reluctantly. “It’s already after midnight, and you’ve still got a bit of a drive ahead of you.”

It takes a moment for Souji’s eyes to flutter open. “True,” he mumbles, snuggling deeper into his blanket. “Or I could just sleep for ten minutes…”

Chizuru sighs. “Do whatever is least likely to get you killed.”

“Least likely?” echoes Souji, tilting his head. “Least likely is if I stay here.”

The same thought crossed Chizuru’s mind, but she didn’t let herself think about it seriously. Father tends to be… overprotective, after all. But at the same time, she’s sure he’d want her friends to be safer rather than sorry—and besides, she knows Souji’s schedule well enough to know he’ll be up and out of the way an hour or two before Father awakens.

“All right,” says Chizuru finally, conceding. “You can stay.”

“My phone’s dying,” says Souji, checking. “Could you set an alarm on yours?”

“What time?”

Souji pauses. “5:45.”

Chizuru stares at him a moment—how can he get so little sleep on a regular basis?—but obligingly inputs the time all the same. “You’ll have to come in and set it on my nightstand before you leave,” she says, handing over her phone, and tries not to think of Souji in her room. Even Heisuke hasn’t had that privilege yet. “That has my alarm on it, too.”

Souji looks up from texting Inoue with the last of his battery, undoubtedly letting him know that he won’t be coming home tonight. “You’re not staying in here?”

Hesitating, Chizuru moistens her lips. She enjoys Souji’s presence, possibly more than she should, but he has a strange power over her, and that makes her nervous. Still, it’s late enough that her thoughts are beginning to scatter, and with them, her resolve. The unexpected strength of her attachment to Souji frightens her, but… if she can last this long without betraying anyone, she can last through the rest of the night.

“All right,” says Chizuru tentatively, but Souji no longer seems to be paying attention. (He probably knew from the beginning that she’d never turn him down.) Instead, he just lets out a little ‘hm’ sound as he puts down his phone.

“What is it?”

“Oh, just an epiphany,” returns Souji lightly.

Chizuru swallows. “Good or bad?”

Souji looks at her sideways again, a few locks of hair falling into his face. “I just know I’m going to kiss you tonight anyway,” he says, his voice quiet, and Chizuru tries not to shiver at his tone. “Because I’m a bad person.”

He isn’t joking.

“Th-that would put me in a difficult position,” stammers Chizuru, unable to look at him. “As much as I…” But she stops herself before she shows too much of her hand again. He’s only bringing this up to test her strength of will, she realizes—waiting for a conclusive ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Reiterating that she feels the same impulse won’t help either of them. “I could never hurt Heisuke like that. You know I can’t.”

Souji lets out a long breath. “There it is,” he says, his tone hovering somewhere between sullenness and resignation as he finally receives his answer. “You said the magic words. Fine.” He rolls over, looking as helpless as Chizuru feels. “See, I don’t want to put you in a situation like that.”

In that moment, Chizuru can tell she’s won the battle, but she can’t muster a sense of relief. No one else can never hope to loosen Heisuke’s claim on her heart and her future, but her body is—her lips seem to be—a different matter altogether. How such traitorous feelings can coexist with her affection for her boyfriend, she doesn’t know… but for whatever reason, one thing is certain.

At her core, she wants a taste of Souji.

Two fluffy blankets and one another’s body heat are enough to ward off the chilly autumn night, but Chizuru can’t fall asleep with someone else so close beside her—especially someone like Souji. She can’t seem to get comfortable, although she does her best not to change positions too often for his sake. He needs his rest, after all.

Time seems to telescope that night, each hour stretching out far longer than it should with so few remaining between them and the dawn. Yet still it seems like little time has passed before the alarm sounds, and they awaken—Souji’s arm around her waist, his front pressed against her back.

He withdraws his arm long enough to press the snooze button, and Chizuru rolls over to face him, chasing his warmth. All boundaries between them seem dissolved at this early hour, no need for artificial distance, as Souji leans his forehead briefly against hers. And, in the same way he pressed his mouth to her skin last night, Chizuru presses hers to his forehead—inhibitions lower so soon after awakening. (Heisuke seems like a mere memory, a dream.)

“Part of me wants to ask you to stay,” says Chizuru, tangling her legs with his sleepily to keep him in place even after the snooze wears off. “But… I know you can’t.”

Souji hesitates as if considering it. “I can stay ten more minutes,” he says, effortlessly extricating himself from her amateur trap in search of comfort. “It shouldn’t take me that long to get to work.”

Slowly, he lies down again, resting his head over Chizuru’s heart—the upper flat of her chest, perhaps out of respect for her boundaries—but he sits up again before too long. Perhaps her pulse has quickened too much for direct contact to be comfortable anymore, she thinks, drowsy suppositions flowing into one another like a lazy river.

But then Chizuru realizes, several minutes later, that Souji is staring at nothing again, eyes fixed intently on the bookshelf. The light just before dawn is far too dim for him to be studying their titles, no matter how sharp his eyes may be. For one reason or another, he is lost in his head again. “Are you okay?”

Chizuru’s voice is soft and weak to her own ears, but she knows Souji’s hearing is impeccable; he must have heard her. After a brief hesitation, he looks down at her for a long moment, wearing an expression she cannot fathom in the darkness. Still, her breath catches in anticipation she can’t explain: something is about to change between them, and she’s about to find out what.

“I’m sorry,” murmurs Souji, and leans down.

[saiyanshewolf]

Anyway so I’m apparently in the minority but I loved a lot about TLJ.

1. Rey.

I have never identified with someone so much.

Let me preface this with: Kylo Ren is a manchild with anger issues who throws temper tantrums where people end up dead. He is the EPITOME of “cool motive, still murder.” I am not making excuses for Kylo Ren.

Now:

Kylo Ren is a terrible person who has done terrible things, but Rey still thinks she can save him.

I get that that is exactly why people are pissed: the fact that a female character like Rey spends the movie trying to rescue an unbalanced, hateful man like Kylo Ren. The trope of pure-girl-from-the-archetypal-light-side rescuing the dark-broody-violent-boy-from-the-archetypal-dark-side with her Goodness and Love is a very tired one indeed, and what young girls take from stories like that is that if they are good enough, if they just love them enough, if they put up with enough, the man will change.

In reality, however, that rarely (if ever) happens, and girls are often left feeling like something is wrong - that they’re not doing enough and it’s their fault that the man they’re with isn’t healing.

In TLJ, however, the point is that Rey doesn’t rescue Kylo Ren. She doesn’t save him.

But she tries.

She tries because she is a fundamentally good person. She tries because she does not want to fight when there’s a chance she can make an ally. She tries because she wants to believe the best of people. Most of all she tries because she comes to understand what turned Ben Solo into Kylo Ren.

She tries, and for a short period of time they are allies (their fight scene teamup was gorgeous and I’m not sorry).

Their alliance is short lived, however, and then Kylo Ren asks her to join him. He tells her the truth about her parents and he does it with blunt cruelty (which could come from either a place of manipulation of a place or awkwardness, but it is cruel either way; intentions, the road to hell, etc). He tells her that she is nothing and then immediately tells her that he does not think she is nothing, perhaps the most manipulative line he has (again, intentions, road to hell). In a callback to Anakin and Padme, Kylo Ren begs Rey to stay with him and rule to galaxy. And yes, he does beg. Adam Driver and Daisy Ridley’s acting was lovely in that moment; I really felt how desperately he wanted her to say yes, how deeply they both wanted someone by their sides who understood them.

And yet.

(“You’re breaking my heart. You’re going down a path I can’t follow.”)

Padme’s words, not Rey’s, but they’re appropriate nonetheless. Rey cannot and will not follow Kylo Ren. She tried to help him. He failed her - like we all knew he would - but she tried.

What does she do then? What does she do when she realizes that Kylo Ren is refusing to change his ways, that he is, in fact, asking her to join him, to accommodate him?

She leaves.

Do you understand what that would have meant to my dumb, impressionable little 13 year old self?

To see a story where the girl actually leaves when the broken man she’s trying to save refuses her help?

A story where she leaves and doesn’t die shortly afterward (like Padme)? Where she doesn’t languish in misery and self-loathing afterward? Where she leaves him and makes an active effort to oppose him and all he stands for?

My entire life I’ve had a problem with wanting to fix men, to save them, because that’s what I’d been taught was my job. The media I passively consumed had normalized that kind of behavior to the point that I didn’t even begin to think twice about it until I was almost in my mid-twenties. I was made to believe that if I just stuck with them, that if I endured their bullshit and showed them how patient and loving I could be even when they were downright cruel, they would eventually change.

I endured years of shitty treatment, of straight up emotional abuse, and not a goddamn one of them ever changed.

Rey tries. She tries to help Kylo Ren because she’s a good, kind person, because she senses his pain, because she’s empathetic, and sure, maybe because she’s also a little bit naive.

She tries, and he fails her, and Rey leaves.

Rey leaves and finds the rebellion. She leaves and does something to combat the man she was trying so hard to save, because he refused her help.

It seems like a ridiculous thing to be happy about, I know. I understand if people think that the better message would be in Rey refusing to try to help him, period, and that’s certainly a valid point of view. For me personally, however, that would remove the main reason that I identified with Rey to begin with: her empathy, her desire to help others who are suffering, her ability to see the potential for good in others, no matter what.

Rey doesn’t save him. She isn’t killed by him. She isn’t destroyed by not being able to save him. It isn’t presented as some failure on her part that she doesn’t save him.

Little girl me DESPERATELY needed that particular message.

Rey trying to help Kylo Ren and leaving when he ultimately fails her is, for me personally, more powerful than if she had never tried to help him at all.

2. The multiple failures, narrow escapes, and near misses.

Rey isn’t able to break through Kylo Ren to bring Ben Solo back.

The legendary Luke Skywalker, in a moment of weakness, a moment of fear, a moment of humanness, raises his lightsaber against his sleeping nephew...and when he is caught, disaster ensues.

As a result, the Luke Skywalker that Rey finds is not who she expects him to be.

The rebels lose all their bombing fleet and are tracked across space by the First Order, having their ships picked off one by one.

Finn and Rose do not find the hacker they were looking for, and are betrayed by the hacker they do find.

Finn, Rose, and Poe’s plan to remove the tracker and escape the First Order fails.

The First Order picks off the rebels’ transport ships as they try to escape.

The base the rebels escape to is decrepit and they are essentially trapped there waiting to be killed; many more of them are killed as they try to take down the ram.

Almost every single turn of the story seems hopeless. General Leia herself admits to giving up hope.

Until Luke Skywalker gets his shit together long enough to exploit Kylo Ren’s weakness, buying them time to escape...and even then there is the disappointment that it isn’t “really” Luke, that the concentration required saps him so completely that he dies.

Even when the rebels do try to escape, their path is blocked, leaving them vulnerable.

Until Rey appears...and lifts the rocks.

There is very little hope to be had in TLJ, but there is hope. There is always hope, no matter how faint.

That, I think, is a very good and very important message...particularly given the current political climate.

Which brings me to...

3. The way TLJ paints its villains and the way it chose to portray the ultra-rich.

Snoke was a frightening villain. Snoke was an intelligent villain...to a point.

Snoke underestimated Kylo Ren...which ought to make Kylo Ren a more frightening villain, but that isn’t what happens.

Kylo Ren killing Snoke really illustrates the selfishness and self absorption inherent in the dark side, I think. Snoke didn’t believe that Kylo Ren would dare. He does dare, however, and he does kill Snoke. It’s almost too easy...almost anti-climatic.

Snoke was a frightening villain, but he was self absorbed enough not to see his own death coming...thus he is replaced by Kylo Ren, who is really not a frightening villain at all. We have only to look at Hux to see that: he refers to Kylo Ren as Supreme Leader only under the duress of being force-choked, and even after that he is barely able to conceal his irration with Kylo Ren’s petulant demands to fire everything they have on a single man; he even makes a snarky comment to the effect of “Do you think you got him?”

Would anyone speak to Darth Vader like that? (As in original trilogy Vader, prior to the context of the prequels.)

Darth Vader was terrifying. Kylo Ren is not. You’re meant to hate him, but...

A lot of people who are fond of characters like Kylo Ren don’t hate him because they understand why he turned to the dark side. I myself tend to fall into this category with a lot of villains. I don’t defend what these characters have done (cool motive, still murder) but I do believe that understanding the why makes them more interesting characters. I’m not going to get into a debate about “is it okay to like villainous characters” because that’s not something I’m interested in, but this view seems to focus on the fact that Kylo Ren is a fictional character, rather than who that character would be as a real person.

For others, I think that hatred of Kylo Ren as a villain manifests as a really dull, disgusted sort of hatred: he’s angry, volatile, angsty, and violent, a manchild who throws temper tantrums at the slightest provocation. There’s little real fear there, and what fear there is is full of that same disgust, almost as if you’re disgusted that you have to be afraid of such a person.

That being said...what kind of people are running our country right now? Yeah.

I also really enjoyed the scenes on the gambling planet and how all the ultra-rich assholes there were very obviously portrayed as exploitative assholes. There’s not much else for me to say on that point. It was pretty thinly veiled.

TLJ is, I think, a movie about not giving in, no matter what. (“Never tell me the odds.”) Rose and Finn don’t give in even when the First Order literally has their boots on the backs of their necks. Rey doesn’t give in when Luke first refuses her and she doesnt give in to Kylo Ren no matter how much she wants to help him; Luke gives in to his moment of fear, and then later on doesn’t give in to the fear that has been keeping him uninvolved for so long. The rebellion itself never, ever, ever gives in despite incredible, overwhelming losses.

...but all that’s just, like, my opinion, man.

[hamstermastersamster]

So... What are these tmnt parallels to ff xv that you were talking about in your tags? ;D

Why would you do this to me D:

My usual “I don’t like Gladio sorry lol” warning applies in the below, so don’t read if you don’t wanna see people talkin’ shit about your boy:

I think the main overarching parallel is pretty obvious - you’ve got a tale of four ‘brothers’ trained for combat, operating as a team, fighting in self-defence against self-appointed villains. As the ‘brothers’ progress they find other helpful allies and you can see the beginnings of the found family concept that is such a crucial ingredient for success in TMNT … although IMO FFXV doesn’t spend enough time developing or getting the player to care about these allies to really make the cut. It’s all about the bros.

In terms of character parallels, I think there’s room for debate but personally I run with the following:

Prompto - by far the easiest. Prompto is warm, empathic, caring, emotionally sensitive, socially needy and overcompensates for low self-esteem by overrunning his mouth and acting like a joker to distract from his flaws and make people like him. This is Michelangelo all over. He certainly ‘does machines’, however, so as the tech geek of the group he stole Don’s trait there.

Prompto also loves animals as much as Noct does. Given that Mikey adopts a kitten in several turtleverses, this is totally a Michelangelo thing.

Gladio - gruff, unforgiving, believes in tough love and challenging rather than nurturing/coddling, outwardly self-confident, frequently an asshole to their leader. This seems like a pretty clear-cut Raphael on the surface … but I hate this parallel because I feel like it does Raph such an injustice, and as he is my favourite turtle …

See, the reason I say that he’s like Bad Fanfic Raphael is that bad fanfic Raphael is 100% gruff asshole with no empathy and no acknowledgement of his own flawed behaviour. Canon Raphael has kind of a mushy centre obscured by his bad temper. He’s prone to emotional outbursts and easily manipulated because of it. He pretends not to care about shit but he actually cares about EVERYTHING a WHOLE LOT at 200% INTENSITY ALL OF THE TIME. He especially cares about his bros and would die for them a thousand times over, whether it was necessary and whether they wanted him to or not, because his extreme emotional volatility makes him tend towards self-destruction. Now, different turtleverses have handled this differently, some badly and some well. The worst show off Raph’s bullying tendencies in ways that make him the clearest parallel to Gladio, quite frankly. In his worst presentations he can come across as abusive and awful.

The best, however, make Raphael actively try to deal with his temper and sincerely try and make up for his wrongdoings, especially when they were wrongdoings against his family. His outbursts aren’t usually within his control but there’s a strong sense of striving for self-improvement there, and trying not to take out his problems on the people he cares about. When he does, he feels bad about it and is prone to blaming/hating on himself. That sense of constant struggle with himself and his behaviour is what makes people root for him.

I very rarely, practically never got that sense with Gladio - perhaps only recently in Episode Ignis where he yells at Iggy about answering his phone, and then repents a little in the very next line. He’s generally all hard, rough edges, and when he’s an unsympathetic arse to Noct and Prompto (admittedly he’s less hard on Iggy, but how can you fault perfection), it all feels targeted and deliberate to shame them and manipulate them into performing better. He’s not a shield - he’s a blunt instrument that he thinks can be used to beat perfection and diligence into those he cares about and I really dislike him for his often bullying tactics. Besides a love for cup noodles I just never feel like there’s anything to him besides aggressively fulfilling his duty and driving Noct to drink.

TL;DR he is Raphael with nary a sign of the necessary mushy centre to make him as empathetic.

Ignis - Left these 2 until last because I find there’s a lot of room for debate on exactly how they fall. Ignis is disciplined, highly intelligent, pragmatic, efficient, strategically-minded and a motherlode of righteous sass. His level of dedication to his bros is also several layers of heaven above anyone else’s. He’s also definitely the ‘mom’ of the group, making sure everyone is well fed and their clothes are darned because damned if everyone’s showing him up running around in tatters. We’ve also seen in the recent DLC how much and how quickly he’s willing to sacrifice everything for Noct.

This isn’t a straightforward match. His logical thinking, book smarts, clever strategies and legendary sass make him a good match for Donatello, but there are a LOT of Leonardo parallels to consider: for starters, he arguably shows much more leadership and initiative than Noct throughout the entire game. Being the nagging mom of the team is classic Leo behaviour, as is (I reckon) the idea of unthinking crazy self-sacrifice for a brother (personally I think Donnie would be a little bit more rational and cautious about things, though if push came to shove, he’d certainly do the same in desperate times). The fact that Ignis gets blinded halfway through the game is also an uncanny match for a particular version of Leo that I’ll get onto in a bit.

It leans so far towards Leo that I have a hard time classing him 100% as Donatello, but there are a few things that I just can’t ignore in aligning Noct to Leonardo. Just let it be known that I was very torn on the decision xD

Noctis - lazy, undisciplined, resents his responsibilities, craves junk food, muffles his true emotions behind a screen of indolent apathy, has to be dragged kicking and screaming into fulfilling his role as leader and King. Absolutely none of this says ‘Leonardo’ … or does it? Leo is the leader of the turtles but he does struggle with the weight of the responsibilities dropped on his shoulders by his father (and the universe I guess). There have certainly been canon occasions when it’s all become too much for him, or he’s reacted badly to the pressure. Also, as much as he hates it, Noct rises to the occasion eventually. As this is such a core theme of his character, it’s too strong a point for the Leonardo match to ignore.

Noctis is also pretty quiet, guarded and introspective (or at least comes across that way in the English version of the game), which lines up nicely. He clashes frequently with Gladio over whether or not he’s doing a good job. He tends to deal with problems internally rather than try and talk them out. All fine for the match.

There are few real Donatello links here (aside from one plot-related thing, which again I’ll get to in the next section). It makes his character parallel a matter of necessity in one sense. Noctis is the de facto leader, not always by deed but certainly by destiny, and by the significance of this role alone he shuffles into Leo’s spot … although the better turtleverses don’t glorify Leo into main character spot quite so much.

Same As It Never Was

So, if you’ve ever watched the 2003 series of TMNT, you may remember an episode called Same As It Never Was from season 3. In this episode, one of the turtles gets spirited out of time and off into an alternate future where he literally disappeared on that day, the Shredder has taken over the planet, everything is awful, lots of people are dead, and humanity is clinging on by way of a desperate resistance movement. Only when the prodigal turtle returns can they band together with enough momentum to finally defeat the enemy.

Sound familiar? >:3

Now, in SAINW (as it is affectionately known by everyone it emotionally destroyed), it’s Donatello who gets pulled into the future, not our Leo-parallel, Noct. Leonardo is also generally assumed to be blind in this ep, although it’s never explicitly stated but suggested by behaviour and his dark glasses. More fuel for the Ignis-is-Leo and Noct-is-Donatello debate perhaps!

Anyways, that’s all I got for the moment. You asked for it D: