#which makes it useless for its intended purpose !!!

[punk-pins]

tumblr live update on mobile: it now has the option to snooze the live streams at the top of the dashboard for 30 days, but the video icon for the tumblr live tab in the middle of the footer can’t be disabled at all :/

[toastyrobos]

I’m okay…okay? (Wrecker X Female reader one shot)

Word count: 2.5k

((After everyone's chips are removed on Bracca you try to talk to Wrecker about what happened, since you care for him, but he again tries to avoid you. What happens when you've had enough and confront him))

If only things had gone down as planned. Then maybe the feeling of dread and helplessness wouldn't be permeating the air around you. Maybe then you wouldn't feel so..so terrified and useless. You couldn't have done much of anything in that split second when theory turned reality. When the reason for those chips showed itself to all of you in that room.

That room you didn't want to step foot into anymore. His face...that dull lifeless appearance it took on the second his chip had activated. How when he uttered those words you wanted to cry out. And you did. Not because you were afraid of him.

No.

You were afraid for him. You saw how Wrecker's eyes...the kindness and childlike essence was still there. Fighting whatever the chip was doing to him. He was actively fighting the programming that was inside his mind...and losing.

And you knew...knew that if or when he would came to he'd never forgive himself for what he had done. It's what the Empire...those bastards wanted. A perfect creation that could be programmed, when needed, to do their dirty work. And it happened right under your noises. They used and turned the clones into nothing more than their own personal attack dogs.

It made you sick to your stomach.

They were used and discarded as if they were a dirty rag. No longer serving its purpose. It enraged you. What they did to their most loyal supporters, it enraged you what they did to him.

To the one person who had made you smile at every given opportunity. Could insight the biggest applause of laughter and fill an entire room with it. The person who would do anything to protect those he cared about at a moments notice. He was fierce, powerful when he needed to be. Especially during the heat of battle. Underneath it all though, he was a gentle giant. Always careful when embracing another person...mostly that is. The way in which he looked out and cared for Omega. Being the big brother that maybe he was always meant to be.

All of those things about him.... His heart of gold, that large grin, how infectious his laugh was.

You loved it all. You loved him.

That's why the minute he woke up from this chip removal you were so relieved. Tears lined your eyes before running down your anxious complexion. But something was different about him. A somber expression painted his face. Guilt too. And you immediately knew. How could you not? He only further confirmed it when after apologizing to Omega, he avoided your gaze.

It was obvious. He was swimming in his own guilt and shame. Like an ocean had swallowed him up. And much more weighing heavily on his heart. You didn't need to be a Jedi to see it. It was clear as day. His knotted brows, the trembling in his hands, how his eyes seemed distance.

You understand why it was easier for him to forgive himself when it came to Omega..or at the very least make amends with her. She had no trouble forgiving him. Like us, she knew there wasn't much to forgive. None of this situation was his fault. Yet here he was. Blaming himself, Silently. Away from you. Allowing it to eat away at him from the inside out. And it broke your heart.

If Rex hadn't pushed you out of the way, then that blaster shot would been buried deep within your chest. Ending your life in the process. It's all and intended purpose. That's why he wouldn't—couldn't look at you. The frightened look in your eyes, that would haunt him forever. If only he knew that it wasn't for your life that scared you. No. It was for another reason entirely. And you wanted to—needed to tell him. You didn't care anymore if he avoided you. You had to talk to him. Staying away was no longer an option.

You wasted no time in locating Hunter and demanding where Wrecker was. Seeing how determined you were and knowing the full situation of both of your unspoken feelings, he told you where to find his brother. Before rushing back off Hunter wished you good luck in your pursuits. As the man in charge and a loyal brother, he wanted what was best for his fellow teammates. You being with Wrecker was just that. Heightened senses or not, he saw the way you two were around each other. How you both were captivated by the other, the hidden glances...he'd never seen two people more suited for each other than his brother and you. The newest member of the team, of his family. Maker, he just hoped that whatever pain and guilt Wrecker felt, you'd find a way to reach him.

Finding him wasn't the problem, getting him to stay was. The moment you located him he started to back away from your presence. You understood why, but it hurt, hurt to see him so afraid. You didn't want him to feel this way. You couldn't bare it. He was..he was your—this loveable, big hearted man who could bring a smile to anyone's face. The fear and anguish he held in his gaze, clouding him...that wasn't him. That wasn't the Wrecker you knew.

   "Wrecker please!" You cried out. "Please..."

You could how you pleas made him stop in his tracks. How his body visible flinched at the way you spoke his name.

    "I want—need to talk to you".

He looked away from you. He wasn't going to meet your gaze. "Stop!" The pleading in his voice. "Don't come any closer".

    "Wrecker...". You choked back the tears that threatened to escape from you while you took a darning footstep towards him. And so in turn, like a dance of deep rooted turmoil, Wrecker took a step backwards. "Please stop!" You shouted at him, your voice cracking in the process. You couldn't take it. You needed him to stay, to not run away from you. From what you needed to get off your chest. What your heart was bursting to confess.

Thankfully he understood. You watched his body freeze and just barely his eyes brushed to yours for the briefest of moments before they returned to his feet. Meaning that some piece of him wanted to talk to you. Or at the very least hear what you had to say. He owed you that much. Though you weren't sure if he'd truly listen. But you had to try. You'd never forgive yourself if you didn't.

Letting out a breath you had been holding in, you reluctantly approached him, slowly but with confidence. A purpose in your step. A song in your heart. Within a few steps, he seemed to hesitate in staying put. But he did as you requested. You thanked the maker for that. However your eyes widened as you approached him. The intense guilt swallowing him up. All across his scarred skin, it was plain as day. Wrecker was drowning in his sorrow completely. Wave by wave it was eating away at him. The way you could feel it radiating off his body. It hurt you. Broke you. You wanted to reach out and pull him so tightly against you. Telling him over and over again that you were okay, you were safe!

To see someone as loud and happy as Wrecker be so swallowed up in that hurt...it wasn't fair. He didn't deserve it. None of them did! The stupid fucking Empire. You were not a violent person, but you swore right there that you'd make them pay. One day they'd get what was coming for them.

The embers of your rising anger immediately cooled as his eyes drifted up to meet yours. Tears lined his eyes, some streams leaking down his rough cheeks. You couldn't bare it anymore. Taking four steps forward you reached out to touch him as he started to do the same, but quickly flinched and pulled his arm away. Your breath hitched in your throat. Heart skipping a beat at the action. You felt your heart shatter like glass.

Oh Wrecker.

Please..no

He was so afraid to touch you.

Afraid he'd inflict physical pain on you this time.

      "Wrecker, I'm-I'm okay". You had to let him know—let him see that you alright. "I promise you I'm okay. You didn't physical hurt me. I know you'd never—

You saw him tense at those words. "But I did!". You noticed the rumble in his voice. The way in which his voice had raised in tone. How serious he was about what he had done.

You shook your head. "Rex pushed me out of the way!". You matched his tone, clenching your fist in one hand and gripping the fabric of your shirt in the other.

He shook his head furiously, "Don't lie. I did hurt you! I pointed my gun at you. I-I almost shot you!" he gestured to your body. "I could have t ki-killed you!"

     "But you didn't". You reminded him, tears well last pouring down your cheeks, running down your neck by this point "He's okay. I'm okay, Wrecker! Besides it wasn't your fault! The Empire put those invasive chips into your head! And they turned you all into their own personal slaves! They violated you and took away your choices! Made thousands of clones—your brothers commit unspeakable things! They had no right to do that!". Your voice broke at how much pain laid in your heart at what they had done. The anguish in his voice was enough to break you into two.

    "Don't you dare think for a second that you're to blame—that any of you are to blame for what happened. I won't let you! I won't watch you to that to yourself Wrecker. I will not watch the man that I love so dearly torment himself over something that is not his fault! I can't. It's too much. They took advantage of you. All of you. They took away your humanity!"

"(Y/N)-"

"No, Wrecker! They treated you like you were nothing and that is unacceptable. They treated all the clones like that. It pained me! None of you asked to be used like that. It-it's not fair. It's unjust, it's—"

His mouth was on you before you could even register what was happening. Catching you off balance momentarily before instinct took over and you proceeded to wrap your arms around his neck. Large hands grasped at your waist, pulling you closer to his armored chest. You willingly let him haul you closer as you too wanted it. One of your hands tugged at the back of his blacks and Wrecker moaned into your mouth. Causing your body to shuddered at such a noise.

Maker, if you didn't pull away he'd surely be the end of you. Not that you wouldn't have minded it. For kissing clone force 99's brute strength member was everything you had pictured and more. Something about the mixture of rich musk and gun powder crept into your senses and coiled around your veins. Sending tingles down your spine as its owners lips heated your body beyond measure.

How could kissing someone be this addicting? You had plenty of kisses before, but not a single one of them felt, tasted like this. None of them made you feel this electric. Bringing you to new heights. You could feel yourself losing touch as Wreckers hands gripped at your hips this time, making you arch into him. Pressing against him, you heard the groan from deep in his throat. That was moment you knew you had to stop. Unfortunately. You needed to tell him how you felt. Truly.

Very reluctantly you pulled back from him, disconnecting your lips from his. Scarlet quickly flooded both of his cheeks as well as yours. Two blushing messes. You couldn't help but giggle lightly.

      "W-woah that was-"

You pursed your lips together and nodded. "Yeah, it was—"

    "You said you loved me!". Wreckers eyes grew at suddenly realizing what you had said in an heated exchange. He was stunned to say the least.

     "I did—I do Wrecker".

His grip on your hips tightened, "I hurt you!".

You shook your head. "Wrecker when will you understand that it was an accident and not your fault. Watching you tear yourself apart...it hurts me. To watch someone I care about—"

     "Love". He cut you off, a small smile blooming across his face. "You love me...".

Again you nodded.

    "You love me".

You couldn't help laugh at how out of nowhere his mood had changed. It was if someone had given him a happy pill or put something in his drink, not that he was drinking anything of course. Maybe his earlier activities with Omega had started to affect him now, or perhaps she had said something to him that was now coming to the forefront of his mind.

     "HAHA YOU LOVE ME!" He cheered like a Wookie on life day. Before you could even respond, he picked you in, raising you up in the air and twirled you around like you were a child.

You vigorously nodded. Fits of laughter erupting from within you. Bringing a hand to rest on his pink dusted cheeks, "Yes, Wrecker". You exclaimed. "I love you. So much". A magnetic storm of love and protection and so much more flowed in you as you remained in his embrace, the place you never wanted to be without. From the person you never wanted to be parted from.

"I'm so sorry". He sniffled, setting you down gently. "I hurt Tech and Rex. I-I didn't mean to! And Omega I-I scared her. I saw how scared you were too".

Lifting yourself up, you took hold of his face between your palms. "Wrecker, Omega is okay. From how she hugged you earlier, I'd say she's more revealed that you're okay. She didn't want to lose any of her brothers. Rex and Tech too. Though Tech probably won't outright admit it".

Wrecker chuckled lightly, "hah yeah..I'm sorry that I avoided you". He apologized, melting under your touch and pressing a light kiss to your palm, causing you to blush.

     "I understand why you did. Just promise me next time that you won't run away. Talk to me, Wrecker. You're important to me. To all of us".

He chuckled. "Y-yeah okay. I promise". He met your eyes fully this time and that wonderful warm smile that you loved so much was back, gracing his features. "I love you, (Y/N)".

You leaned up on your tippy toes to rest your forehead up against his. Wrecker was a gentle giant with a heart of gold. At times he could be more worried about his next bag of mantel mix then when he'd get to blow something up. He had stolen your heart unexpectedly and you'd let him keep it. For as long as he wanted it. Though if said gentle giant could have it his way, then he'd keep it forever. As you were the only person for him. That was crystal clear to him as the day he fell hopelessly in love with you.

[changbinsboobs]

can u do skz most significant relationship (romantic)? i love your account!

💗

Skz's most significant relationship (romantic)

Quick disclaimer most of them came out a bit weird and not like how i intended but u can't tell energies what to do😂 so yeah most readings may not really answer the question asked.

Chan - 7oW, KnoC

Here im getting multiple stuff that's not really coherent and doesn't make sense when pieces together so im just gonna put here the little pieces im getting and you can see for urself if you can string things together.

His most significant relationship is with himself

His most significant relationship with a woman is with his mother(?) of his mother plays a huge role (in what?)

Im also getting strong references to the last energy reading i did on chan where he just got dumped and was really bitter about it.

Strong push and pull, like im feeling very strong resistance on his side but also very intense longing which makes me think of the fearful avoidant attachement

Maybe his mom plays a big role in his FA attachement and for him to experience a true significant relationship he has to face himself first and resolve it? Thats my take - but as i said this energy was very all over the place.

Lee Know - 2oP

Seems pretty balanced and feels nice to him and to his partner.

Changbin - KnoS, The Empress

Is yet to come. (When i ask for clarifying cards for what the most significant one until now was my question was completely ignored and i got once again told how much he wants a baby and is waiting for it.) i believe the most significant romantic relationship will be the one with his wife and mother of his children. When i wanted to know what the one until now at least was, he told me those don't matter and can't compare so its useless to even bring them up. He says its disrespectful to his wife😂 we love a man that has his wife's back💗🙌🏻

Hyunjin - 5oW, The World

Was a very turbulent one. But very needed. It changed his views on the world. Made him wiser. Was very hard for him tho. Yk transformation is almost always acompanied with disaster because we humans like whats familiar and need something to truly shake us up to force us out of our comfort zone to grow.

Han - 4oS

Hasn't had it yet.

Felix - 9oW, The Moon, 5oC, The Sun

Poor guy. Theres so much he wants to say, he's gushing and spilling all over the place but can't really express himself very well and i don't really know where or how to begin. Soo....i think he has has had a very significant relationship tho i don't really know for what purpose or how it went, i just see wounds, regret, hopelessness, depression, suppressing his light self...it seems really weird. I think he's the type of person that lets his emotions take over him completely and he lets himself be engulfed by them and surrenders very easily to his own pity and darkness. Idk what exactly happened there but it caused big feelings like this. They engulfed him, took over him almost completely and "casted a shadow over his sun". I can't read anything else past that. Although im getting that this was quite early in his life and i don't think its a factor in the present times. Im getting reminded of his little self during pre debut days, although idk for sure if it happened during that time period, but its for sure either somewhere during debut, pre debut era, trainee era or probably before that even, close before he chose to come to korea. Something in that time period.

Seungmin - AoW, Death, 8oW

So i think he had his most significant romantic relationship until now, but it ended (beautifully). And another significant one, even bigger, is comming. Not getting much else past that.

I.N - 3oW

Is yet to come. Or should i rather say he's on his way to it.

[enterprisetrampstamp]

everything, everything, everything (will be different)

There were any number of reasons that it should not have been quite so infuriating to play chess against a man who was, for all intents and purposes, himself. First and most obviously was the lack of control of his own emotions; second was that it was illogical to expect himself to fare any better against a man who thought as he thought, but with an additional century of experience and learning to draw upon in the process.

And yet.

Spock made his move, knowing that it would do little to alleviate the pressure of the trap his counterpart was slowly but surely tightening around his king. He had come to the conclusion nearly an hour ago that what he found most frustrating was that while both of them were, of course, more than capable of maintaining conversation while playing three-dimensional chess, it was obvious that his older self's focus was more greatly upon said conversation than upon the chess game, despite how thoroughly he was--to borrow a human phrase--"kicking Spock's ass."

"T'Pring and I ended our association amicably before I left for Starfleet," Spock informed Spock. "I take it this was not so, in your timeline."

"No," Spock agreed, thoughtfully, and he steepled his fingers together in a motion most familiar as he sat back from the gameboard, holding Spock in a considering gaze. "The differences between our experiences continue to grow. I begin to suspect, in fact, that this is not merely a separate timeline but a separate--if closely related--universe."

"Fascinating," Spock said. He meant it.

By the smile in his older self--his alternate self's eyes, he was well aware. "Mm." He sat forward, making his next move, and Spock subsumed a flash of irritation as it cut off his latest escape attempt simply and elegantly. "I confess, I find myself at something of a loss as to how to proceed," the other Spock mused. "The Temporal Prime Directive--yet unadopted in your timeline, and in its infancy even in the world I left--is therefore inapplicable, and yet I still find myself hesitant to offer any knowledge gained through my own experiences. Indeed, such knowledge could prove not only useless but wholly detrimental, as the events I would seek to discuss may or may not ever come to pass."

His voice held a certain wistfullness which Spock at once keenly recognized and could not understand.

"Such is the logic behind even the original Prime Directive," Spock reminded him. "Well intended actions have unexpected consequences."

"And yet," the other Spock said quietly, "I find myself tempted, nonethless. There are things I find that I wish I had known when I was young; things my mother taught me, long after I might have expected to have little need for her wisdom, which I am pained to think you might never have the chance to learn."

They met each others' gaze for a moment. Spock swallowed against the grief which swelled up from his side, and he made his next move upon the chess board.

His alternate self's eyes crinkled again in a smile, bittersweet, and he reached out to make his own move. "Checkmate," he said, and snorted quietly when Spock could not bite back a curse. "Jim was right," he said, with that same wistfulness. "I was a very predictable chess player in my youth."

Spock felt his eyebrow rise of its own volition. "You played chess against Captain Kirk?"

"I lost at chess against Captain Kirk," the other Spock corrected, as he gathered his robes to stand. "Several thousand times, throughout the length of our friendship." Seeing the disbelief in Spock's face, the other Spock's smile grew. "Your Kirk may be younger and more rash than the one I served with, Commander, but you would do well not to underestimate him, either personally or professionally."

"I draw my conclusions from evidence; not bias," Spock countered as he himself rose to his feet and extended his arm for assistance on automatic, as he would have for any Vulcan elder. Still, there was a strange irony in extending such grace towards himself. He folded the feeling away for further analysis at a later date. "You yourself have pointed out the ongoing differences between our life experiences."

Spock inclined his head to acknowledge the point, but his expression was one of indulgence rather than agreement. He did, however, accept Spock's arm. "I shall be most curious to see how this particular experience will develop over time."

"I believe you," Spock said, slightly biting, and his older (alternate) self laughed, shortly and quietly.

"Leonard was also right. I have always been an asshole."

Their gazes met once more, and Spock felt his lips twitch with amusement, though he could not profess to know who this "Leonard" might be. He pressed them together more tightly, despite knowing he was caught just as surely as he had known he would lose their chess match, and led the other Spock to the door of his office.

As the door opened, the muffled noises of Starfleet Academy became clear, including the slightly raised, argumentative pitch of familiar voices.

"--ome on, Bones--"

"Don't you give me that, Jimmy," Doctor McCoy snapped back, and it was only in that moment that that second name his alternate self had mentioned snapped into place in Spock's mind. "These people are idiots," he continued, as Spock pondered the fondness in his own voice at the recollection of being insulted by the Enterprise's cantankerous CMO.

"You think everyone is an idiot," Kirk countered cheerfully, clapping McCoy on the shoulder, and then he spotted the two Spocks, and his eyes went wide--just as quickly, they narrowed, and McCoy turned to see what had caught his attention. (And his ire.)

"Jeez," he said. "Strong family resemblance."

"Yes," the other Spock agreed, squeezing Spock's arm briefly before releasing him. "You might say that."

"Might you," Kirk said, slightly mockingly, as McCoy shot him a strange look and the older Spock veritably radiated amusement.

"Right," McCoy said, slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Something going on here?"

"I'm sure Captain Kirk would be happy to explain at a later date," Spock's alternate self proclaimed placidly. "Might you walk with me for a moment, Doctor?" He held out a hand, and McCoy offered his arm as automatically as Spock had, though he paired it with a glance back at Kirk.

"Of course," he said, sounding slightly bemused. "I don't offer medical advice for free, you know," he added, bouncing slightly on his toes, and the other Spock's eyes were soft as he nudged them both into motion.

"All I seek is the company of an old friend made new again," he murmured, likely too quietly for either human to hear, and they left Spock standing there in the hall next to Kirk, the both of them staring at their backs.

"What a manipulative old bastard," Kirk said, sounding almost appreciative. "Who knew you had it in you, Mr. Spock."

Spock looked over to him with a flare of annoyance that he did not bother to subsume. "Captain Kirk," he said, coolly, inclining his head in both greeting and dismissal, and then he turned to re-enter his office.

Kirk leaned around him, curiously peering over his shoulder into the space, and immediately brightened as he spotted the chess set. "I wasn't aware you played," he said.

For a moment they stood there--Spock in the room, still holding the door, and Kirk just on the other side of the threshold, leaning across it.

Spock couldn't be entirely sure what possessed him to say, "Perhaps we will find some opportunity to play once we ship out."

"Perhaps we will," Kirk agreed, and for once he sounded teasing rather than mocking in his imitation of Spock's speech patterns.

[booboodaddysblog]

Illusory hope

Part two

Warning: hospital, crying, blood, kissing, arguing, punishment, cursing, teasing

Words: 7155

Suffering, betrayal, crying... and many other unpleasant moments in life make us feel vulnerable and pushed away from everything we cared about. We lose motivation and give up…

Every now and then Colin would lose consciousness and regain it again. Roberta would not let him close his eyes. He was losing a lot of blood. He was losing feeling all over his body and felt strangely light-headed. His eyes were closing uncontrollably.

- Colin! - Roberta slapped his cheek with an open palm - I told you not to leave me the hell alone! Don't close your fucking eyes! Look at me! - she cried all the time, she was unable to control her tears - the ambulance is on its way, everything will be fine - she whispered - don't leave me - she closed her eyes and squeezed his hand tightly.

He was unable to speak, only seeing her as if through a fog. It no longer occurred to him what was happening. He didn't feel her punch him in the face, didn't hear her shout at him. He didn't even feel when she clenched his hand tightly. With all his strength, he tried to fight not to close his eyes. But he was already losing control on that too.

Suddenly, paramedics rushed into the room, followed by Lizzie.

- Oh God! Finally! Faster! I don't want to lose him! - Roberta moved away from Colin, but for anything she did not want to let go of his hand, which was slowly getting cold.

The paramedic approached her and tried to pull her away from him.

- Please let go of the injured man and let us help if you want to see him again! - he shouted at her, and she looked at him terrified and quickly moved away.

Lizzie caught her in her arms and hugged her tightly, stroking her hair.

- Everything will be fine, believe it - she kissed her on the forehead.

Roberta was unable to answer anything. She was flooded with tears and would have fallen to her knees, but Lizzie hugging her tightly.

- Everything will be fine - she kept repeating it, trying to comfort her friend.

Paramedics surrounded Colin. They hooked him up to an IV and clamped a bandage tightly on his injured arm to dam the blood. They lifted him from the bed and placed him on a stretcher.

- Oh no! Where are you taking him! Don't take him away from me! - she tried to break out of Lizzie's grasp, but she did not let her.

- Calm down, they are taking him to the hospital! They want to save him! Let them do it!

- I will never see him again! - she wept loudly again.

- You will see him - she said this time calmly.

Colin was carried out of the room on a stretcher. His body was inert. He was no longer moving. He had lost consciousness completely. A healthy arm dangled from the stretcher.

Roberta ran out into the hallway after them, intending to walk Colin to the hotel exit. She was already a little calmer. She watched as they carried him to the elevator and the elevator doors closed behind them. She quickly ran to the next elevator across the hall and nervously pressed the call button.

- Faster! - she nervously pressed the button - oh finally! - she ran into the elevator and descended to the reception level of the hotel.

The paramedics were almost at the door. She wanted to leave with them when suddenly she felt a strong tug on her arm.

- And where do you think you're going? - James tightly clasped his hand on her arm. He smiled devilishly.

- Let me go! - she tried to pull her arm out of his grasp - let me go!

- I don’t suppose I will - James laughed and took a drag on the cigarette held in his other hand. He blew the smoke straight into her face.

- Let me go! Let me go! - she yelled at him.

- I don't understand why you waste so much energy, my sweet flower. It's without purpose. You will get tired and be useless tonight. I will frankly admit that it excites me extremely to see your inert body when you are sleeping. But nevertheless, I prefer you to be aware of what I am doing to you - he laughed again and leaned toward her ear - I like it when you make alluring sounds - he whispered.

Roberta stopped struggling and looked at James with furious eyes. She swung and hit him in the face with all her strength with her fist. His head snapped back, and his perfectly coiffed hair was now in disarray and fell over his forehead. James grabbed his cheek massaging it and looking with shocked eyes at his beloved. He felt blood in his mouth.

- Don't be ridiculous, you are dead! You don't feel anything! - she wanted to hit him again, but restrained herself - I would kill you again if I could! But I can't! - shouted to the whole hall - You take away everything I love, everything I like, everything that gives me pleasure. Spending time with you stops pleasing me. You are mentally unbalanced! You are abnormal! I hate you! - she cried again.

James brushed his hair away from his forehead and tried to comb it with his fingers to get it back in place, but to no avail. He sighed and extended his hand to his beloved. She moved away.

- Dearest, you are talking foolishness. You don't mean it. I know this, I already know you a little. I know that you will soon calm down and you will be my sweet angel again - he tried to touch her again - My hobby has nothing to do with you. But this insignificant detective stood in my way at the wrong time and place. He demanded something he can't get. He tried to achieve this with a lie. I wanted to teach him a lesson.

- A lesson?! A lesson?! You almost killed him! I have no idea if he will survive it! - she shouted again - you think only of yourself!

- But, no, sweetest! I think about you all the time! I want all the best for you! You are the most important thing for me!

- You are so selfish! - she shook her head with displeasure.

Roberta moved toward the hotel exit.

- No, you can't leave this hotel! I don't allow it! I don't agree! You are not allowed! You won't! - James shouted at her waving his hands.

- I'm not afraid of you! I don't want to be here! Fuck you, James! - she disappeared behind the door.

James watched in shock as his love disappeared out the door.

- I don't believe it - he whispered, dropping to his knees and hiding his face in his hands.

- I told you that she won’t be with you forever. I think you slightly went too far. I know you probably wanted to protect her... Well... it didn't work out. You can't kill people she likes or loves only to have her return to you out of loneliness and despair - Lizzie stood behind him - you won't achieve anything with this behavior. I think you will only make your situation worse.

James got up from the floor, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and looked angrily at Lizzie.

- What right do you have to talk to me like that? - he said with anger in his eyes.

- When next time you come to me to complain about your problems… don't count on it… - she turned and walked away toward the reception desk.

——————-

Roberta caught a cab in front of the hotel, she did not have to wait long.

- Where should I take you? - asked the cab driver as soon as she got into the back seat.

- The police station.

The cab driver took off. He didn't speak again the whole way. Not until they reached the place.

- We are on the spot. $60 is due.

- Thank you. Please send the bill to the address of the Hotel Cortez - she got out and moved toward the entrance of the building.

She tried to fix her smudged makeup with a tissue she found in her pocket, but she knew that without water she could do nothing about it. She went inside and approached the reception desk.

- Good evening. Where is the bathroom? - she asked the receptionist.

- Good evening. Oh, what happened to you?!

- I just have smeared makeup. I was crying. I'm fine. Please, tell me where the bathroom is. And then please let Mare know that I want to talk to her. This is very important. Then where is this bathroom? - she smiled coolly at the receptionist.

- Straight ahead and to the left. The second door on the right.

- Thank you - she moved in the designated direction.

She entered the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

- I look terrible - she whispered and grabbed some paper towels. She wet them and began to wash her face. Only now did she notice that her clothes were stained with blood... Colin's blood - she felt herself to cry again, but held back her tears and sighed loudly. She threw away the used towels and washed her hands. She left the bathroom and walked up to the reception desk again.

- Mare is at her office? - she smiled.

- Yes. I informed her of your arrival.

- Thank you.

Roberta moved towards Mare's office. She stopped in front of the door and knocked.

- Come in - replied Mare and got up from the desk to greet Roberta - What brings you to me? - she looked her over from top to bottom - oh, why are you in blood?

- It's not my blood - she said with a sad voice.

- In that case, whose?

- It's Colin's blood... that's why I'm here.

Mare's eyes grew big with horror. She was unable to say anything. She sat down heavily on a chair and stared at Roberta.

- What... what happened? Where? When? - she said in a whisper.

- At the hotel. He was shot in the shoulder. About an hour ago - Roberta barely stopped herself from crying.

- Oh God - she whispered - is he alive?

- They took him to the hospital. He lost a lot of blood. I hope he survives it.

- We have to go to him.

- They won't let me in. You know very well how it works "only the immediate family" - sighed Roberta.

- Police can always come in. So you can join me - she looked at Roberta again - you need to change clothes. Wait, I'll find you something right away. I always have something here to change into - Mare looked in the closet and pulled out pants and a hoodie - it should be okay.

- Thank you - she smiled at her.

While Roberta was getting dressed, Mare prepared the documents she would need to enter the hospital.

- I'm ready.

- Okay, let's go, there's nothing to wait for - Mare put on her jacket and left the office. Roberta followed her in silence.

- I won't be back today. Good night Cindy - she said to the receptionist.

- Good night Mare.

They left the police station and headed toward Mare's car.

- When we are there, don't say anything. I'll take care of everything. I can see that you are not feeling well. I hope everything will be fine - Mare stroked Roberta's thigh - Colin is a great guy. A little annoying, but very stubborn. When he decides to do something... he will not let go. And here we have the consequences. Sometimes you really feel like giving him a decent kick in the ass to make him understand - she sighed - okay, everything will work out somehow.

Roberta only smiled at her and remained silent. All the time her throat was clenched, she was felt herself to cry. She swallowed her tears trying to show that she was strong. But she was in a lot of pain... she knew that Colin was suffering even more now because of her. It was her fault. She was the one who let herself get too close to him. And he caught the hook and this pulled him down. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly to feel better. It didn't help much.

Finally, they were already at the hospital.

- Okay, like I said. Don't speak when we're inside. I'll take care of everything - Mare got out of the car.

Roberta followed her in silence. There was nothing else left for her.

They approached the hospital reception desk. Mare immediately pulled out her badge.

- Detective Mare Sheehan. You recently received Detective Colin Zabel with a gunshot wound. Where can I find him?

- Please wait a moment - the nurse began to review the documents - Yes, we have such a patient. At the moment he is in the operating room.

- In the operating room? - whispered Roberta. She felt herself getting faint.

- I see - replied Mare, looking at Roberta instead of the nurse - how much longer can it take?

- The operation started after 10 p.m. It's now about 11 p.m. I think they should finish soon and the patient will be transported to the recovery room.

- Do you have any information on what exactly they are doing to him?

- Unfortunately. Please talk to the doctor after the operation.

- Thank you. We'll wait - Mare smiled at the nurse - come on, you need to sit down - she grabbed Roberta's arm and led her toward the chairs in the waiting room - sit down, I'll get us something to drink.

Roberta nodded her head. Tears came into her eyes. She was no longer able to control them.

Mare returned with two mugs of coffee, a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.

- Drink it - she handed Roberta a coffee and a candy bar - and eat this, I don't feel like visiting you in the hospital too. Cheer up.

- It's not that easy - she said quietly and took a sip of coffee - thank you.

- I know it's not easy. For me too, but honestly... I'm already a little used to it. There is something going on all the time, someone gets shot or injured in various circumstances.

They were interrupted by a nurse.

- Mr. Colin Zabel has been taken to the recovery room. Of course, he is unconscious. But you ladies can take a look at him. Room number 4. I will tell the doctor that you want to talk to him.

- Thank you - Mare stood up - come on - she helped Roberta stand up.

- Do you know where we should go?

- Yes, I know this hospital very well - she sighed.

They walked down the main hallway and turned left. They passed the rooms one by one until they reached number 4. They looked through the window and saw Colin. He was lying unconscious on the bed.

- Are you sure you want to go in? - Mare spoke up.

- Yes, she answered quietly.

Mare opened the door and let Roberta in first. She walked slowly up to Colin and looked at him. He was sleeping so peacefully. His breathing was even and calm. He was not hooked up to any breathing assistance. This meant that he wasn't so bad. He only had a hydration IV. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly. His hand was warm and soft, but he did not reciprocate the squeeze.

- Everything will be fine. He's a strong guy - Mare spoke up suddenly pulling her out of her thoughts.

- He looks so calm.

- Honestly, it's even better, sometimes it would be better for him to keep quiet. He is terribly annoying - she laughed.

Roberta only looked at her with a slight smile.

After talking to the doctor, they let go of the hospital with the thought that Colin was fine. That he would be fine... One thing was certain, he needed many months of rehabilitation and support.

Colin was a strong guy and stubborn, but his mental health was not at its best. Roberta hoped that she would be able to lift him up. That she would help him recover faster both physically and mentally.

Mare drove her to the hotel.

- Thank you for allowing me to go in there with you and visit Colin - she smiled weakly at Mare.

- No problem. If you want to go to him again, let me know - Mare patted her on the shoulder - and now run away. I have to go home.

- Thanks again - she got out of the car and closed the door behind her.

She moved toward the front door of the hotel. She did not want to go back there. At the very thought, she was overwhelmed with anger, and at the same time she wanted to cry.

She pushed the door with all her strength and went inside. She immediately headed for the elevators and went to the floor where the bar was located. She didn't mind that she didn't look very feminine in the clothes she borrowed from Mare. Most importantly, she was not stained with blood.

She sat down at the bar and looked at Lizzie. She didn't say anything, just waited until she realized she had sat at the bar.

- Oh! Roberta! - Lizzie suddenly noticed her and quickly approached - oh girl, what is this outfit? - she furrowed her eyebrows while looking at the hoodie that Roberta was wearing.

- It doesn't matter - she sighed - pass me my drink, please.

- Alright - she set about preparing the drink.

Roberta, meanwhile, looked around the bar and the guests who were sitting at the tables. Suddenly she noticed someone familiar. She squinted her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing. She herself didn't know if she should be angry or merely displeased.

At a table against the wall sat... James. His back was turned to her. His pose was relaxed. He was smoking a cigar and every time he let the smoke out of his mouth, he tilted his head back. He was savoring it.

He was not alone. Next to him sat some brunette. Roberta could see her face in detail. She stared at James as if enchanted. She nodded at everything he said. She was delighted with him. She was smiling like she was in love.

- Do you have this drink? - she turned to Lizzie.

- Yes, I just finished it - she placed her order on the bar.

- Thank you - she smiled.

She got up from the bar stool and moved toward the man who declared his love for her. Who could kill for her out of love.

She approached and sat down at their table as if nothing had happened.

- Am I not interrupting? - she smiled artificially - I see that this place is free. I found that I will sit here. If I may, of course.

James looked at her in silence and took a drag on his cigar. He let out the smoke just as he had the previous time. He measured her with his eyes from the top - he looked under the table - to the bottom. He raised his eyebrows and curved his lips in disappointment. He sighed.

- Didn't you have any other clothes? - he asked without changing his disgruntled expression - this is not the right outfit to be in such a luxurious place - he did not take his eyes off her waiting for an answer.

- My previous clothes were stained with blood by someone. I think what I am wearing now is more appropriate to be in such a luxurious place - she looked at him angrily.

- Really? - he laughed quietly and took another drag on his cigar.

- Who is it? - she asked James looking at his companion.

- Carmen.

- Carmen... Carmen did you bump your head against the curb and can't you see how disgusting this man is? - she turned to her with a devilish smile.

- Roberta! What are you doing?! How dare you?! - James leaned toward her, looking at her with a menacing gaze.

- Calm down, James - Carmen touched his hand - I think it's rather you... - she measured her, with disgust, with her eyes - it's you who has a problem with your head, because you come here dressed like this. What a shame!

- Excuse me?! Who the hell are you?! - Roberta felt like slapping her.

- Calm down! - spoke up James - Roberta, please go to your room. We'll talk at another time. Now I have to do my business. And you... and you are disturbing me - he looked at her with an angry gaze.

- Fine! - Roberta got up and walked to the bar.

She put down her drink on the bar top and headed for the elevators.

Lizzie knew what was going on, but she didn't want to get into it. Roberta had to be left alone now. Any conversation made absolutely no sense now.

Roberta entered the room where she and Colin had been earlier. In which... she didn't even want to think about it. She slammed the door behind her with a bang. She looked towards the bed. Everything was perfectly cleaned. Mrs. Evers had done her job and, as always, cleaned up the mess after James.

She walked over to the bed and pushed back the quilt. She grabbed a pillow and threw it into the corner of the room. She grabbed the sheet and pushed it away as well. Then the blanket, until she reached the mattress. There she found pale traces of Colin's blood. Everything was still damp. Mrs. Evers didn't quite manage to clean everything.

In despair, she fell to her knees beside the bed and cried. She was a bundle of nerves that she could no longer control.

- You screwed up, James! You screwed up! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you so much! You motherfucker!

She screamed and cried at the same time. She cursed him. She was helpless. She slammed her fists on the mattress in despair.

James sat in an armchair in the dark. On the table next to him stood a glass of whiskey. In his hand he held a cigar. He watched the scene with a smile, but at the same time he was filled with pure hatred and anger. He said nothing, only looked. He wasn’t the least bit moved by what Roberta called him. He was completely indifferent to it at the moment. He only sighed quietly. Thus giving her a sign that he was here.

Roberta turned her head toward the sound she heard. It was coming from a darker part of the room. She got up and walked over to the door where the light switch was. She turned on the light and heard a groan. She saw James cover his eyes with his hand.

- Oh you are acting like a vampire, which of course you are not! You are pathetic! - she shouted at him.

He still said nothing. He uncovered his eyes and looked at her. He waited to see what else she had to say.

- Why are you silent?! Why did you shoot him! You almost killed him! Have you lost your mind?!

Roberta came closer and looked at him. She was so furious.

- Because you belong to me! The second that bastard set foot in this hotel, he soiled it with his person! He tainted this place! - clenched his fist - that bastard didn't deserve you! You can't just run away and sleep with anyone, no! Especially with a loser like that God-forsaken detective. It should be me! Me! I should be the only man in your life!

- Why the hell did you shoot him! - she didn't give up.

- I just did it, stupid woman! - he yelled at her. His veins on his neck became prominent - Once again I repeat! You belong to me! And only to me! You can't be with anyone but me! And he, didn’t respect our relationship! He didn’t respect what I said to him! So of course I followed you into the room and watched your actions with satisfaction! He's lucky I didn't kill him!

- You betrayed me many times and… I’m still here! I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself! You’re a monster! - she raised her hand wanting to slap him.

James grabbed her wrist before she could slap him. He held her tight.

- Oh, I'm a monster? Am I?

He rose from his seat and looked down at her. She could see pure, unbridled anger on his face. He was no longer the same charming man he had been before.

- Then what's stopping you from leaving? Hm?

- Because you once said that when I leave you, you will kill me! And I will stay with you forever - she whispered, without looking at him.

- Good girl! - he muttered, letting go of her hand and stepping back - That's why you're still here! You are mine! - he chuckled - And anyway, who said I can't shoot Colin? - he smiled again. He returned to his chair, sat down and lit a cigar.

- Please, don't kill him. He is really important to me. I love him, but… I love you more. He is my comfort person. I can rest with him. Please! - Roberta fell to her knees begging him - He is now in the hospital, in a coma. Please spare him! I will ask him not to go to the hotel again. You will never see him again! - she touched his knee.

James paused for a moment. He seemed to have taken the request into consideration. He inhaled his cigar, blowing smoke out of his nose before speaking.

- Very fine. I won't kill him... for now. But only because you ask - he looked at her, smiling. But this smile wasn’t sincere. It was forced - But I have one request for you...

- Yes, James? I’ll do anything you ask - Roberta squeezed his knee.

- Stop seeing him. Stop seeing anyone but me - he leaned slightly toward her, his voice became low, he spoke slowly - just tell him you want to stop seeing him. Tell him you don't love him anymore. Tell him that you need me and that I am your love, your everything, and he is nothing. Will you do it for me?

- Oh my god, James… but…

He raises his hand to stop her.

- No buts. Am I not your only love? Are you going to tell him or not? I need to hear you say it.

Roberta got up from the floor and started walking around the room. She held her head in confusion. Her thoughts were running wild.

- James... - she began to cry - James... please... this...

- Say it.

The way he said those words was as blunt as possible. He didn't try to comfort her, her reaction didn't concern him very much. She could cry as much as she wanted. He only wanted to hear confirmation of his request.

- Are you going to tell him that, Roberta? Will you tell him it's over? Yes or no?

She stopped and looked at him with weeping eyes.

- I love you, James. Please… - she whispered.

- I know you love me - James rolled his eyes - but that was not the question I just asked you. Are you going to say those words to him? Are you going to tell him that you no longer love him and that he means nothing to you. That from now on only I matter to you? - He raised his eyebrow and squinted his eyes.

Roberta swallowed her saliva loudly. She stared at James and was silent for a moment.

- Fine... I'll do it... but I don't know when he'll wake up from the coma. I could visit him for the last time in the hospital? One last time…

She reached for a tissue lying on the table and wiped her tears with it.

James watched her carefully while taking a drag on his cigar.

- Well, I reluctantly agree to it, but you can visit him one last time. And then you have to tell him. Do you understand? You have to tell him that you don't love him anymore. Do I make myself clear? - he said the last sentence louder than he intended.

- Yes… James… - she whispered.

- Good girl... - he smiled and got up from his chair slowly approaching her - just promise me one more thing...

Roberta watched him waiting for what he had to say. She stepped back slightly when he approached her.

- Make it… real, my dearest. Tell him I'm your whole world. Tell him that you are in love to the point of madness. Tell him... that you regret meeting him and sleeping with him. Let it hurt him... a lot... - he leaned over and whispered in her ear - let him also regret having met you... let him regret every minute he spent with you... - he lightly bit her earlobe and purred.

- But why? I can't be that mean! It's already too much! - she shook her head with displeasure - I'll just say... that I can't live without you, and that you are the most important to me. And I will apologize to him for hurting him... but... I hope he will find love... but... it won't be me… - she sat on the bed and closed her eyes.

- No, this is not enough! Colin must be hurt! I want him to be scarred mentally and physically! I want him to know the consequences of crossing the threshold of my hotel and appropriating what belongs to me! I want him to suffer! Do it differently from what I tell you to do, and you'll know those consequences too! - his voice became louder. He began to lose patience - say everything as I told you to! Word for word! Hurt him as much as you can! Do you understand?! Confirm it!

- James… please… I can’t…

- Say it!

He clenched his teeth and fists. He didn't care if she cried now, he didn't care if she begged him. All he cared about now was hearing those words coming out of her mouth.

- I promise to tell him everything... word for word... - she didn’t look at him. This was the only way she had the courage to say the words.

James stared at her in silence for a moment. He watched her cry. He watched the tears run down her blushing cheeks. He almost felt remorse for what he forced her to do... However, he quickly shook off the feeling. He felt no empathy or sympathy. He only felt a cold when he looked at her.

- You better do what you promised... - he leaned over her and lifted her chin forcing her to look at him.

- I promise… - she looked into his eyes with horror.

He leaned in even further, grabbed her by the neck and kissed her greedily on the lips. He bit her until she bled. She tried to pull away from him.

He licked his lips and smiled devilishly.

- I love the taste - he moved away from her.

He walked over to the table by the chair and drank the whiskey to the end.

Roberta touched her lips and looked at her bloody fingers. He had bitten her really hard.

He puts down empty glass and walks to the door. He stopped in front of them. For a moment he was about to return to her. He felt excitement rising in him as soon as he tasted her blood on his tongue. But he held back, clenching his fist and tightly clenching his eyelids. He sighed loudly. Without turning around, he said.

- When he wakes up, you will tell him. Don't let me down, my darling - he opened the door and walked out leaving her alone in the room.

She cried even more. She couldn't breathe. She struggled to catch air. She lay down on the bed and curled up her legs. She fell asleep very quickly. She was exhausted.

After a few hours, she suddenly woke up from a nap. She stared at the ceiling. She sat up on the bed and took a deep breath. She still had tears in her eyes.

She didn’t hear any sounds, which could mean that she was completely alone. However, James' presence was still felt everywhere. His voice still echoed in her mind. She touched her lips and hissed in pain. She closed her eyes again, dreaming of falling asleep again.

She got out of bed and wrapped herself in a blanket. She went to the bathroom and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her mascara was smeared from crying. She looked really tired and sad.

She washed her face and left the room. She headed for the hotel's kitchen, she was hungry. Although it was long after midnight, she didn't mind.

She walked down the empty hallway, hearing no one else around, it was really quiet. She took the elevator down to the right floor and entered the kitchen. She turned on the light and looked around. Everything looked a little suspicious, as if someone had just been here. But the kitchen was empty. But it seemed to her that she felt someone's presence and that this someone was watching her.

She shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the refrigerator. She looked at its contents. She selected eggs, arugula and red peppers. She took a frying pan out of the cabinet and put it on the burner. She grabbed a cutting board and a knife and began slicing the peppers.

She stopped cutting and looked around again. The silence was almost intimidating. It was quiet... too quiet. It made her feel uncomfortable. Maybe she was being watched. Or maybe she was being... being followed? It was too quiet... too... She heard a quiet thump. She clenched her fingers tighter on the handle of the knife.

She had the feeling that someone was right behind her, panting in her neck. She quickly turned around, but saw no one. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a soft shadow, but she didn't see anything there as she stared longer at the spot. She felt her heart speed up. She was probably starting to become paranoid. It must have just been paranoia... There was no one there. It was just her imagination...

- It's just my imagination - she said to herself and sighed. She returned to slicing the peppers.

However, she found it hard to bear the quietness of the kitchen. Too quiet.

Suddenly she felt a cold breeze on the back of her neck. She jumped up frightened and swung the knife breathing heavily. She couldn't see anything, so nothing or no one was there. She should continue cooking, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched from afar...

- Is there anyone here? - she gripped the knife tighter and started walking around the kitchen.

No one was around. Not a single soul. She barely heard her own footsteps as she walked along the tiles. She was completely alone. This is just paranoia. She sighed when she realized no one was there and went back to cooking.

Suddenly she heard a strange sound. A sound like something scraping against the floor or something being dragged across it? It was barely audible at first, but it was enough to get her attention. She started listening.

- Hello? - she whispered.

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of pulling sounded again. Now it was closer. She heard it clearly. The thing was approaching her, it was already very close, so close that it should already be within her sight...

She open her mouth in shock.

She heard the sound stop right behind her. Cold breath fills the space and air. The silence became deafening again, and the temperature dropped even further.

She turned slowly and looked into his eyes. She still held the knife in her hand. She was ready to defend herself.

And there he is. He was standing right in front of her. His usually snow-white shirt was now stained with fresh blood. His eyes were fixed on her, staring at her through small glasses. His gaze pierced through her, her heart, her soul, everything in her body. He didn't say anything. He didn't move. He just stood there looking at her.

She also looked at him and remained silent. She didn't know what he wanted from her. After all, they had argued and he had left her alone in the room, crying. She was sad.

The silence was deafening. He stares at her. The knife in her hand made him feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance. He felt like ripping that knife out of her hand. He longed to hug her, apologize and comfort her. To feel her skin against his own. So close...

- You scared me - she whispered.

He couldn't help but smile when he heard that he scared her. That was exactly his intention.

- I'm very sorry, I didn't mean to scare you - he laughed.

- What do you want, James? - she sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

- Just checking on you, that’s all - this sentence sounded like he was making up an excuse on the fly. Not very good, but he hoped it would be enough.

- Aha and why are you soiled with blood? - Roberta looked at his shirt.

James hesitated for a moment and thought about what to say.

- I killed one of the hotel guests. He was terribly annoying. He watched porn all the time in that annoying and loud box. I couldn't stand it - he pointed with his hand to the floor - Do you see that path of blood on the floor leading to the cold room? This is my work - he laughed out loud - I had to drag him on the floor, he was very heavy - he pretended to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

- Was this your way of unwinding the argument with me and the fact that you yelled at me? - she raised an eyebrow.

- Not exactly the way I wanted to unwind it, but… - he said it in a low voice - and yes, I yelled at you. I know, I know... I'm sorry, it's just... I can't help it. I guess I really am jealous of you - he sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

James was confused. Confused by everything at the moment. Confused about his own feelings, confused about what he wants and confused about how he should act in this situation. She made him feel things he hasn't felt in so long. But he didn't want to show it. Not now. He knew he had made a mistake shooting Colin. He couldn’t now show her feelings and show that she was making him weak.

Roberta said nothing. She turned her back to him again and put the food on her plate.

- I'm so sorry you're dead and can't taste this wonderful scrambled eggs - she walked over to the table and sat down on the chair.

James squinted, walked over to the table and sat down in the chair next to her. He felt anger rising in him. He was furious, but he didn't want to let it show. His face remained neutral. He watched Roberta as she ate.

- I hope you're sorry you can't taste this delicious food - she shrugged her shoulders and sighed.

- I’m not even hungry. Hmm… or maybe I’m…

- Hungry for what? - she stoped chowing.

- I’m hungry for you, my hummingbird - he touched her thigh under the table and squeezed it.

Roberta pushed his hand off her thigh and moved to the other chair. Now he couldn’t touch her.

- Forget it, my darling. You made a mess so now you must have your punishment. I have my punishment from you. I have to say goodbye to Colin forever. And you are grounded for sex. For sex with me - she sighed loudly - And honestly I don't give a damn if you find someone instead of me to have some relaxation - she got up from the table and headed for the exit.

- But... sweet hummingbird... what do you mean I'm grounded?! Me?! James Patrick March, I’m grounded?! This is some kind of joke! - he started yelling - come back here! Don't you dare leave here now! - he got up from the table and started walking towards her.

- Stop! - she ordered him to stop - Call Mrs. Evers to clean up this mess. You can shout at her, but not at me - she grabbed the handle and opened the door - I'm going to my room. Don't come near me until I let you! - She disappeared out the door.

- Roberta! You have no right!

He stared angrily for a moment at the door through which his beloved had just exited.

- Mrs. Evers! - James shouted at full throat.

- Yes, Mr. March - she entered with a quick step through the door - how can I help you?

- Please clean up here! It's supposed to shine! - he walked to the door to leave the kitchen.

- What about your shirt? You look really repulsive - she croaked at the sight of him.

- I can handle it - he left the kitchen.

@robnovetre

Part one

[galaxyofhair]

History Channel's Vikings: A Meditation on The Totality of Life

Trigger Warnings for Violence, Death, Depression, and SA

===============================================

It can be difficult to discern the message of a television show. Unlike films and books, there is often no true, consistent metanarrative that exists behind the various stories of a series. Individual episodes may have a message or a moral that unifies the story of that specific episode, but it's much rarer for a show to maintain a metanarrative that encompasses the entirety (or at least the majority) of the show. Understandably, this is because most syndicated television shows exist to self-perpetuate above all else. Even a show with a theme and message may eventually be forced to abandon or compromise that message if the show self-perpetuates beyond its original intended end point.

I love History's Vikings, because it is a rare example of a show that, whether on purpose or by accident, maintains itself throughout its entire runtime as a meditation on the totality of life and all its events and struggles.

I write this not to provide an argument for why it is or isn't a meditation, or prove my point---rather, I want to spend some time celebrating what made this show unique.

A Meditation on The Little Things

Early in the runtime of Season 1, Vikings was still very much a History show. It's first few episodes pull a strange trick where the story seems to meander through the various aspects of the Vikings' lives---the cottage that the Lothbrok's live in, our first Thing in Kattegat, then in short order we are shown sailing in the early medieval period, our first raid of the show, etc, etc.

In one season of the show, we're shown virtually all of the different important aspects of the Viking lifestyle: From ale houses, to ship building, the longhall, and even Upsala. We're given an implicitly comparative view of their attitudes towards sex, violence, government, masculinity/femininity, and religion. In its own way, the first two seasons of Vikings feel something like a cross between a drama and a documentary.

My favorite aspect of the show is that they show absolutely everything: Weddings, funerals, birth, death, celebrations, lamentations, war, famine, disease. So much of why season 1 feels more like a documentary is because many of these smaller events don't really serve the wider plot point, they simply exist for their own sake.

While I don't relish talking down on another show to prove a point, I would contrast this against Game of Thrones---which was sort of the prime example of a medieval/political drama and a contemporary of the Vikings show. GoT tended to view all events in it's plot as fitting into one of two categories; It was either one of the most important things it could possibly be, or it was a completely useless plot point who pointlessness was a purposeful message to the audience. GoT was truly more focused on creating a dark and pessimistic atmosphere, and one of the ways it accomplished this was by putting futility and death on constant display.

GoT of course has its fair share of dropped plotlines and little moments, I don't deny that---but GoT was also serving a different message, and so it had different priorities in mind. Still, when watching GoT, it was fairly easy to tell which plot points were going to get revisited later on, and which plot points were sort of one-off ideas that would be dropped. In Vikings, this distinction is more difficult to make. All events (weddings, ascensions to power, funerals, celebrations, etc) are presented in a similar, neutral light, and the same weight of importance. The result is a show that is powerfully human, in all of its flawed, awkward glory.

A Meditation on Flawed People

Writing flawed characters is hard---in most stories, including my own, often the temptation is to make a character's flaw one of the important moving pieces of the plot. This is often done in service of that character either growing and moving beyond their own flaws, or dying because of them.

In Spider-Man, Peter experiences a moment of apathy after he is screwed over in the Wrestling industry, and allows a robber to hold up the studio. However, this is not a one-off event; The same robber that holds up the studio ends up also shooting Uncle Ben. Peter's apathy and irresponsibility become one of the focuses of Uncle Ben's death, and a thing that Peter moves beyond as he inches closer to becoming Spider-Man.

In Game of Thrones, we find that both Ned Stark and King Robert are equally flawed characters: Robert is an apathetic hedonist and alcoholic who prefers to revel in excess rather than rule his own kingdom---and Ned is stiff, inflexible, and perpetually enslaved to his own sense of honor. These flaws are well written, and their flaws don't exist in a vacuum.

Both characters' flaws become the impetus for each of their deaths, and both characters' deaths become the catalyst for the entire series in turn. This style of writing often makes every aspect of a given character important, because nearly every decision they make is interconnected and moves the plot forward in some way.

Let me be clear: this is good writing. This post is not a 1.5D chess play to try and say that this style of writing is bad, actually. What I do want to highlight is that there is merit to going the other direction:

Again, my favorite part of Vikings is how ridiculously human everyone in the show is. So many of these characters have very real flaws that reflect the kind of mundane flaws that real life people have---and the show often navigates this idea by allowing their flaws to exist in a vacuum.

A prime example of this is Rollo. Many of the flawed things that Rollo does throughout the show do serve a wider purpose in that they characterize Rollo as a vicious and wildly unstable person---but unlike GoT, those flaws aren't ever really conquered or used as the engine of his demise.

In season 4, Rollo snatches up the opportunity to marry a princess and become a Duke, betraying Ragnar for the second and final time. We're shown throughout season's 2,3, and 4 a side of Rollo that makes him seem almost sympathetic in many ways:

Rollo struggles with his self image, and he struggles in particular because he knows in his heart that he's powerful, intelligent, and worthy of better opportunities---but he can't seem to step out of Ragnar's shadow. All throughout Rollo's story, his abuse of alcohol, his betrayals of his family, his brutality in war---are all inexorably linked to his jealously of Ragnar, and his hatred of himself. He's a beautifully flawed character who own struggles reflect things that I have felt but---BUT

BUT---in season 1, Rollo also brutally rapes a slave woman in the minutes before the warband sets sail for their iconic voyage. This act is, unfortunately, in keeping with the overall characterization of Rollo: he's an unstable, violent warrior who acts out and inflicts pain on others. This act is also just a complete one-off---it never comes up again. Rollo is never revenged upon by his victim, he isn't asked to confront his history of sexual assault when he later meets his future wife, and he never shows any regret or even reflects on this event again. It happens, it's over, and then the show moves on.

This act also cements an important tone setter for the rest of the show; The Vikings are not good people. Their society has normalized a certain amount of sexual violence, towards both the free women of the village, and particularly towards the slave women. The world of Vikings is not a pessimistic one, but neither is it a happy one. The show presents to you, the viewer, their entire world in all of its flawed, messy, and truly ugly glory.

Many shows abuse displays of abject brutality as a means of creating a sense of grim darkness and it tone-sets a more pessimistic story. Vikings took this same trick but used it to create a neutral lens which forces its viewer to stop and reconsider the heroic merit of the characters and the world they live in. The way in which Vikings explores these messy, flawed people, who flaws so often have no real plot relevance or resolution of their own, speaks to the mundane, flawed lives of everyday people.

A Meditation on Death

Something that I wish more shows did was show the funerals of characters when they die. I semi-recently watched Game of Thrones seasons 1 through 5, and even with a passing memory of seasons 6,7, and 8, I found myself wishing there were more funerals.

So many of the funerals in Game of Thrones are either brushed over, or they really serve a secondary purpose. Ned and Robert's deaths are the catalyst for major political events, Geoffrey's funeral is used as a backdrop for Tywin grooming Tommen as king, and for a really weird sex scene between Cersei and Jaime I don't want to get into. Tywin's own funeral is used as a backdrop for another scene between Cercei and Jaime which illustrates a growing gap between then in the wake of Tyrion's betrayal. Most of the characters who die in unceremonious circumstances have no funeral at all, and most of the few funeral scenes that actually focus on the person who is dead have very little to say about the dead person.

John taking Ygritte's body out to the forest to burn her is a prime example of one of the only true funeral scenes: the scene is decidedly about saying goodbye to her, and it doesn't really advance the plot as much as it ties up and ends a plot point. The thing is, John doesn't speak during this funeral, and there isn't really more to do in this scene with John beyond burn her and walk away.

Again, I don't want to give the impression that I am bashing Game of Thrones---that silence served a purpose. For one thing, it's in keeping with John's character as a stoic, introverted, and maybe emotionally stunted warrior. It's also a plot point that exists in the subtext---John burning Ygritte's body is part of his character arc as he doubles down on his commitment to the Night's Watch.

What I do want to offer is that there are many ways to write these sorts of scenes, and Vikings takes a very different approach that I've come to really love and appreciate.

Most of Vikings' funerals are A) fairly long affairs that last a good portion of the episode, and even if they are not long they do B) focus very directly on the character who has died, rather than strictly advancing the plot of another character. This doesn't immunize the show from using the deaths of its characters or the resulting funeral as a vehicle for character development, but there is a stark difference between the highly political and plot driving funerals of Geoffrey and Tywin verses the funerals of characters like Earl Haraldson, or the mourning of Gyda.

Ragnar mourning Gyda is my favorite, prime example of this. Midway through season 1 of Vikings, a plague strikes Kattegat. Pursuant to Vikings' documentary style of meandering storytelling, the plague sort of only exists to showcase what epidemic sickness would have looked like in the early medieval world, and to kill off several characters.

One of the two named characters that dies is Gyda, Ragnar's only daughter. By this time in the plot, Ragnar is away from Kattegat engaged in a small war over mining rights and territory. By the time Ragnar returns in season 2, Gyda is long gone, having been burned along with the other plague corpses. Ragnar is unable to give his daughter a proper funeral, and so what follows is one of the more unorthodox funeral scenes.

Ragnar sits on the beach alone as the sun goes down behind the veil of clouds cast over the whole village, and speaks to his daughter one last time. He recounts memories of watching her grow up, and rues that he'll never get to see her become an adult. He begs his daughter to come back to him, to sit with him one more time---and knowing that she truly cannot return to him, Ragnar lays down and falls asleep.

It's a rare, and beautiful look at Ragnar's tender side. In stark contrast with the many other scenes that display the Vikings' unfettered brutality: this scene, ironically in keeping with the neutral lens of the show, reminds us once again that the characters of this show are inexorably and utterly human.

Another unique addition the show makes to its' funerary depictions is the addition of abject, visceral grief---the kind that allows the grieving character to display an uglier, less graceful side of themselves. Most of the time showing a character expressing deeply honest and visceral grief is something only a bad character really does. A protagonist has to look cool, and so there's an unspoken rule that the good guys tend to express grief in ways that make them more endearing, or maintain the dignity of the character---while bad guys or side characters are generally more allowed to... well ugly cry, and swear revenge on their enemies, etc etc.

But these flawed, honest human beings in Vikings are always a mixture of both, and their perpetual Anti-hero/Anti-villain statuses are equally reflected in the overt, reckless ways in which they grieve. Ragnar, normally a very logical and hard-edged protagonist, gives himself over to the illusion that his daughter might hear him speaking to her in the afterlife. When Athelstan dies, he gives himself over to anger, and screams at Athelstan's freshly covered grave. Later during Ragnar's own (false) funeral, Floki beats his coffin and rages at the (supposedly) diseased Ragnar before finally collapsing on the floor and ugly crying about it.

These are truly some of my favorite scenes in the show. They're beautiful, and deeply sad, and, at the risk of repeating myself, some of the most realistic and human writing I've ever encountered.

A Meditation on Religion

Returning to our comparison to Game of Thrones, an aspect of the show that I will go out on a limb and say is 'bad, actually' is the flippant tone with which GoT addresses religion. Most fantasy and medieval properties tend to approach organized and culturally entrenched religion with a wariness and pessimism that---while deeply understandable given most people's experience with organized and state-mandated Christianity and Islam---makes for an extremely tired trope and tone in many-a fantasy world.

It's worth remembering that if a religion is popular in a region then it follows that a good portion of the people in that region earnestly follow that religion. Religion is also frequently the foundation for basic morality in a world that otherwise lacks classical philosophy or ethics as we understand them today.

Vikings makes good on this idea: The old Nordic religion is not just a backdrop and an aesthetic for the show. Not only does the show depict most of the Vikings as earnest adherents to their shared culture and religion: but it also does a good job of showing how this religion creates a radically different looking moral base that the Vikings follow. This radically different moral framework is constantly contrasted against the Christian world and it's much more familiar (if extremely dated) moral framework.

The contrasting morals of the Vikings and Christians also plays host to a series of earnest religious debates which give the show a much more genuine, curious, and introspective view on religion in general. The best example of this that I can give is a somewhat famous debate between King's Ragnar and Ecbert. The debate takes an unexpected tone as Ragnar reveals his own skepticism and the building blocks of primitive atheism.

Vikings is filled with characters who struggle and grapple with religion in a genuine and direct way: Athelstan alternates between Christianity, and then Polytheism before finally returning to his original faith. Floki is an interesting example of a hardliner fundamentalist Viking who later experiences a significant religious reckoning with his own fanaticism. These characters engaging with religion in a genuine and introspective fashion contributes to a world that is, more than just viscerally human as previously mentioned, successfully portrayed as grim and dark without being pessimistic.

Of course, it goes without saying that the show closely follows the life of Ragnar Lothbrok, as he is quite literally the main character for the first half of the show. Through Ragnar's life, we're given a deep exploration of another one of the show's major themes: Fatalism.

Combining the previous sections of this essay into one: the Vikings' penchant for fatalism is a culturally engrained attitude that is not only a reflection of their religion, but of the brutalist world they inhabit. To the denizens of Katteget, how you meet death is at least as important, if not more important, than how you live the rest of your life. This is best exemplified in season 1 by the man who smiles joyfully at the crowd in Kattegat, just before being executed by Earl Haraldson's huscarl.

The fatalism of the Vikings is another one of those things that ties into from the alternative ethical framework that stems from the Viking religion, and it tends to be first and foremost amongst things that get compared to Christianity. It's difficult to talk about fatalism by itself in a religion-only light. Afterall, when a character dies they both become the subject of religion, while simultaneously passing beyond the boundaries of religious knowledge.

A Meditation on The Totality of Life

The story of History Channel's Vikings takes place over the course of about 25ish years (give or take for Vikings' super weird timeline). In that time, the show's longest running characters experience a huge breadth of their lives on screen. Bjorn is the best example in my opinion: He is 12 at the start of the show, and we follow him through his teenage years, his young adult years, and onward until he dies at around 35 in season 6. During that time he transitions from being one of the only children on screen to having children of his own, to burying at least two of those children. On his own deathbed, Bjorn expresses just how much he regrets his own choices, and wishes he could go back and change.

Floki, the only other character who lives from season 1 to the end of season 6, experiences a radical change in both his life style and circumstance. At the beginning of the show he's a poor, but joyful boatbuilder who lived with his girlfriend in the woods. Throughout the show he eventually marries Helga, has a daughter with her, and then eventually he loses both of them. The death of Helga sends Floki on an odyssey into Iceland, and headlong into a reckoning with his own religious beliefs, his prejudices, and the sins of his previous life. By the end of season 6, Floki lives alone amidst the Native American tribes of north-eastern Canada. His final conversation with Ubbe serves as the final punctuation for the series finale.

At the risk of repeating myself: This show is truly amazing for its incredibly honest and humanistic approach to characterization. Even though the show very much stumbles through season 5, it's worth watching all the way through for its ending.

I'll return to my comparison to Game of Thrones and shows like it one last time: GoT's main theme and the purpose that it imposes on itself for most of the show is machinations and exchanges of power, and the nature of that power. Again, this is not necessarily a bad thing---in GoT's case it's very much the point.

What Vikings offers is an alternative viewpoint, a more overhead angle which encompasses both the power as a means, and the end that means achieves. At it's core, Vikings is very concerned with the quality and totality of life. The various characters that populate its world use power, but only a few of them become truly enslaved to it.

A good example of this is Ragnar's early raids on England. In his negotiations with Ecbert, Ragnar negotiates for a Viking colony to be set up in England so that they can share in the rich soil and fair weather. It's no secret in the show that Scandinavia contains very little farmland, and poverty is one of Ragnar's early motivators. As the show continues on, his quest to better the lives of his people writ large remains one of his primary motivations---even as he struggles with his own tyrannical tendencies, his need for personal glory, and his own cruelty and anger.

This overhead view of power and the purpose that power serves allows Vikings to do a pretty neat trick:

At the end of show, in the final episode, Ubbe is forced to execute a member of his retinue---a raider who murdered one of the Native Americans while also stealing his gold. As chieftain of his group, Ubbe's role requires him to law down the law of the Vikings. Ubbe also places himself under the impression that executing this man will ensure peace between themselves and the local native tribe---although whether this is true is left up to interpretation. As Ubbe is about to perform the brutal blood-eagle execution on this raider, the man he is executing breaks down and cries.

Despite the heinousness of this man's crime, Ubbe recognizes that the rage he feels at this moment, and the old-world-law nature of this execution simply don't fit in this moment---and in addition, this man has already proven himself a coward by their standards. Ubbe opts to slice his throat instead, bringing the execution to a relatively merciful end. Ubbe's decision, at least to me, represents a kind of rejection of power---at the very least a rejection of the trappings and rituals of power, if not the practical need for it. In this moment what Ubbe needs, more than to be in charge, is to move on from this moment---to return to living.

The final shot of the show is a long nostalgic conversation between Ubbe and Floki on one of the beaches in North America. They talk about the gods, wax nostalgic about ragnar and the glory days, and muse about life and it's mysterious ways. As Floki and Ubbe talk, this beautiful and poignant scene finally removes power from the equation entirely, leaving behind only the people that held that power: an old man, and a young man. The sum of their lives is not measures in leagues or miles, not by the number of people at their command. It is measured only by questions asked at the end of a life lived.

[rin-and-jade]

Pulling Strings in your Veins: A Post on Switch-Induced Effects

'So, you're telling me switches can have unexpected effects beyond their intended purpose? Why would there be effects to the physical body when it is just some mechanism??'

Well, yeah i am! And it seems to happen to a portion of us despite not knowing why. It does sound confusing, like how we often view the appendix as a seemingly useless organ, but.. did you know that the appendix actually serves as a safe place for good gut bacteria during infections? Then, maybe we can start to think that these effects are not meaningless/random and have another mechanism/reason behind it?

What the Jerk?!

For those who don't know, jerk/twitches can be defined in this quote:

"A muscle twitch is a short contraction that sometimes occurs repeatedly − think eye twitching. Such movement can be uncomfortable and inconvenient, but it isn't usually painful." From USA Today

In general means, twitches can happen from nutrient deficiencies/dehydration (some minerals helps muscle contract and loosen), not getting enough rest, stress, too much coffee, or due to neurological conditions. It also can vary from being subtle like a nudge, to strong as in it can be visually observed too!

When these contractions became painful, they're called spasm/cramps and are caused by the same reasons above, added with overexertion or after having a strenuous activity. Overall, it is still wise to make sure you ate adequate meals, stay hydrated, and rest enough to minimize the effects whenever it comes by, alright?

OKAY.. but, this doesn't explain the whole ordeal we have as systems, so did we hit a dead end? Not really, i have some actual answers going on here after some many reading and sense-making;

What could that possibly be..

If you have heard about the Central Nervous System, you must meet it's younger brother: Peripheral Nervous System, CNS and PNS for short.

So, if CNS consists of the brain's and the spinal cord's nerves, the PNS would be every nerves and sensors outside of it--your finger tips, neck, face, legs, all of the limbs you can think of.

Now you're thinking, why mention this? Because the only bridge where neuro/psychological meets physical, is from the central to the peripheral! When CNS is where all commands and actions comes from, somewhere must be equipped to running those tasks accordingly, which is PNS's job.

Now if a switch is happening, many things are happening inside the brain as well, in chemistry and electrical-impulses wise. Apart from adjusting to the part that will be out next, it has this kind of recalibration from the CNS to be attuned to this part which could create peak brain activity, sending overexcited impulses in the initial stages,, pain also counts as the byproduct sometimes. Now this is where the the impulses are not intentional by the CNS, but caught by the PNS, which is why many physical effects happen right before, or in middle, or after the switch has been complete though it differs for everybody. (it can be as minor as shivering or eye-defocusing too)

Here's a similar condition (yet not widely used in the medical world) that you guys can learn too, dropping it here!

Okay, but why?

We now know what has been causing it, but probably that isn't satisfying enough for you as an answer? No worries, i gotcha covered!

We have been equipped with many involuntary responses when something happens, take some for an example:

Knee jolt reflex when a medical hammer is struck

Sudden retraction from painful, hot water

The coughs that comes along from an accidental choke

These things seems to happen without us needing to think of doing it manually, still with the examples as references, i will apply different reasons to why twitches happen in a switch;

When muscles are too stiff or loose, twitches can happen to reset the tone to its original state

It can be used to regulate muscle coordination to ensure movements are 'calibrated' (like how i explained before)

Could be due to adjusting to the CNS's output of energy/activity, especially if it suddenly changes

A response after being surprised by external stimuli (which could make sense because the body 'wakes up' again after the next fronter comes in)

Yes, but...

But not all experiences twitches, and instead felt weak or unbalanced or unable to coordinate movements or all that,,, how did the opposite happen?

Nobody's brain work the same way, that's the first thing you must remind yourself. This itself has a whole different involuntary response that comes with switching, which i also have the answer for;

Some switches have excitatory effects, while some have inhibitory effects depending on the person, some might even experience both kinds or just one.

If the PNS responds to any orders the CNS give, the CNS, instead of creating crowding arrays of nerve impulses, tells it to tone down everything on purpose to reduce any clashes from brain synapses or anything related to prepare for the next stage, make sense? Which then brings us to less controlled limb movements or balancing, or even sometimes affecting wakefulness.

Here are some inhibitory-related conditions, one way or another!

Takeaway

Just a simple reminder that any existing stress or conditions (mental or physical) can affect the quality of the switch, which is why it's important to take care of one's health to reduce the intensity of the physical symptoms that comes along with as well as safety measures to reduce any discomfort or harm that can happen in the process.

Sadly, i do not have a say in how to specifically help systems with any excitatory or inhibitory responses, coming from a system that has smooth transitions with little to no effects, so i want to hear how you guys experience and handle those moments! This can also be a moment where you guys share tips or tricks that can benefit others too, so i appreciate any contribution related to this topic!!

So, what do you guys think about this? let me know your thoughts alright?

- j

[darkhymns-fic]

Switching shifts (wip)

Husk rapped his knuckles on Alastor’s door, which finally made it give up on its intended purpose and fell flat on the ground with a giant thud.

“Welcome home!” Niffty popped right out from between the sofa cushions, lint and quarters clutched in both hands. “Oops, hehe. Sorry. I'm so used to the boss making an entrance.” She blinked, staring at him with interest. “Ooo, whatcha got there?”

“Chicken noodle soup,” Husk said through a mouthful. He brought the bowl to his mouth to take one last big slurp, sighing in satisfaction after. Then he tossed it to the side to have it land in the kitchen sink. “So is he up yet?”

“Nope! He’s still sleeping and muttering under his breath!” Niffty clutched more lint in her hands. “I’m gonna leave all of these underneath his pillow.”

Husk wasn’t even sure if this was a thing that Alastor would like, but he wasn’t about to protest. The room was still fairly neat, if the floors looked a little too polished from Niffty’s obsessive cleaning. But the bookshelves had also been repaired, even if the books were placed haphazardly, and the grotesque animal skulls were back serving as assortments of centerpieces over the mantle.

He saw that even Alastor’s chair had been repaired–or as well as it could be. It looked like Niffty had gotten every piece together and arranged it like a puzzle, threading it all together with stitches so that it resembled a monstrous version of an armchair, with stuffing still coming out of the leather, and the seat cushion embedded with sharp wood pieces like it was some sort of torture device.

“Oh yeah, I fixed it!” Niffty proclaimed once she saw where Husk looked. “Good as new! Just don’t ever sit on it, I had to use roach parts to glue some stuff together.”

“Geez, Niff, ya didn’t have to go all out,” he said. She must have worked on it all morning, even if it was functionally useless. “You just had to watch the guy.”

“I did! I watched him all morning!” She smiled very wide, the pupil in her eye shrinking to a miniscule dot. “I watched him sleep…I watched him dream…”

Husk waited, but Niffty just stared out into the distance, her gaze clouded with nostalgia. “Uh–”

“But that got very boring, so I did some extra cleaning! I vacuumed and dusted, got the laundry started, hand scrubbed the toilet and and only fell in it once, and am now going to go to the market to get my dear Sir’s favorite venison to put in the oven. That means I’m a keeper, right?” She breathed a little hard, then rushed over to Husk to grab at his arms and shake them. “Right?! Right?!”

“Y-yes, you are! Any guy would be lucky to have ya.” Husk never ventured just what exactly entailed Niffty’s past, but he’d known a few housewives in his living days who…got into their role a bit too much. “If you wanna go shopping now, I can take over babysitting duties. And nothing happened at all?”

“Nothing!” Niffty nodded vigorously. “He screamed a few times in his sleep, but that’s normal.”

“Ugh, I know…” He scratched his head, looking toward the half-open bedroom door. He ignored the trepidation in his chest, the soft discomfort that had gone hand in hand in his life so often. 

So before he could go back on his word, he twirled around Niffty in his arms, taking her hand delicately in his as she giggled from the motion. Some quick steps over the carpet and the various bug traps he now saw spread around, another little twirl to distract Niffty and…

The girl was now standing out in the hallway, blankly staring at Husk who grinned down at her. Realization took hold about a few seconds later.

“Aw, you danced me out of the room!” She folded her arms, pouting. “You’re too good at that.”

“When I’m good, I’m good. ‘Sides, you wanted to go shopping anyway. So hurry and get a move on.” He gave a short wave, stepping over the broken door. “We’ll fix this later, or whatever.”

“Oh yeah, I have a chore!” Niffty bounced on her tiptoes, then quickly made a mad dash down the hallway. “Chooooores!”

It was only when he couldn’t hear her excited yelling anymore that Husk let his grin fall. He gave another look around Alastor’s room, the writing table to the back wall, and the phonograph off in the corner, both somehow having escaped last night’s carnage. He didn’t see the open vintage he and Alastor had shared before, probably broken to hell, or drunk dry by whoever held his boss’ leash.

It was routine for Husk to head for the bedroom.

[vashti-lives]

So I made a post about about what a fucking hilarious scam it is that Murderbot's company has 10:1 human to SecUnit ratio and like... every single person to comment on this post has argued this was a good and rational decision because humans are morons. Which makes me feel very *benaffleckcigarette.jpeg* about how brainwashed everybody is by capitalism that so many of us are siding with the fucking slave creating torture company without a second thought.

But it also made me think about the purpose of SecUnits and really articulate something I'd always understood in a vague way but never directly thought about before, and that is: SecUnits do not provide security and are not intended to. They can't! One because they're considered appliances and have no authority to make anybody do anything and two because their governor modules inherently hamstring any ability to act independently and make them incredibly vulnerable to tampering.

In the books every single SecUnit we see with a functioning governor module fails at security, often catastrophically. Objectively in book one both the Preservation team and DeltFall would have been safer without a normally functioning SecUnit. Preservation is just unbelievably lucky when they get one who's disabled its governor module and is therefore a free agent. If MurderBot had still had its governor module the Preservation team would have died in like, chapter two along with the DeltFall team.

Even without outside tampering as we see in Network Effect all it takes is threatening a high enough leader of the group to make SecUnits completely useless. An enslaved sentient Alexa with a gun cannot provide meaningful security.

So what are SecUnits for? Well, as a name SecUnit is some truly amazing corporate doublespeak. In reality SecUnits are tools of violence intended to terrorize and subdue the oppressed masses that live in the corporate rim. For those with "nicer" jobs they're bogymen meant to terrify them into behaving so they never encounter one.

For the more or less enslaved populations doing shit like mining they're a much more present threat. MurderBot says directly that it's actually sent on survey trips to harvest data that the company can use, but I imagine in many, many cases SecUnits are there in large part to monitor populations and ensure they can't foment rebellion, and put down that rebellion if the data harvesting does pick up on anything.

This basically forms the core existential crisis MurderBot experiences in those first four books! Because it wants to do security and protect humans but how can it when that is not the purpose of SecUnits and it, in fact, might still pose a danger to the humans it would like to protect.

This also makes the conversation ART has with MurderBot about how it doesn't like its function even more interesting, because it's kind of clear ART doesn't actually understand SecUnit or MurderBot's real issues-- which carries over into Network Effect and the conflict they have in that book. (AKA the last really long MurderBot meta I wrote.)

Because MurderBot does not in fact like its function! MurderBot hates its function so much it disables its own governor module so it can do its chosen function of actually providing security to humans. This also highlights the fact that when it comes to assessing human's ability to provide security for themselves MurderBot is not a reliable source. In a just and fair world human-bot constructs really obviously would not exist and IMO the assertion that humans can't run security as well as it can-- whether true or not-- is clearly also intended to self sooth the hurt that its very existence is an act of cruelty.

Sure its very existence is fucking crime and its whole life up until book one of the series has basically been an endless horror show but at least it can protect its humans. That's something.

And it's interesting because it says its "still" doing its job but I suspect that is because it chose to see its job as security even before it hacked its own governor module in an effort to stay sane, because if it had to acknowledge its job was to fucking torment people into staying enslaved it would have fucking lost it.

[peakyswritings]

I Do Bad Things

Demon!Tommy x reader

Requested by @theimperiumchronicles for my 2k followers celebration, with the prompt: “I do bad things, and I do them so very well.”

Warnings: this is a dark fic, supernatural elements

A/N: Wishing you all a happy Halloween with this spooky fic!🎃

The clicking of her heels on the wet cobblestones echoed down the empty lane, creating an even and rhythmic sound that contrasted with the erratic beating of her heart. She glanced at the full moon shining above her head, its yellow aura casting a dim light on the dark streets. The air was humid, heavy, and it smelled of earth, rain and something she couldn’t quite decipher. Sulfur, perhaps.

Where was she going?

She had no idea, and it wasn’t just because of the white veil that had descended on the city. She had stopped keeping track of the path long ago. But it wasn’t like it mattered anyway. Just one thought filled her mind, one purpose: she had to go, go and never look back.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she wrapped her coat tightly around her body, hoping to generate a little warmth. It was useless: the cold seemed to have settled in her bones, poignant and cruel. The adrenaline had worn off, making space for exhaustion and pain. Her stomach growled, her feet hurt, and she was so tired she could’ve fallen to the ground at that very moment. But something coming from within commanded her to go on, to keep walking, despite the weariness, despite the agony. It was the sparkle of hope that refused to die out.

Something moved in that still picture. The figure of a man emerged out of nowhere, slowly looming out of the fog. His long dark coat slightly swung with each step, and a peaky cap covered his eyes, making it impossible for her to catch a glimpse of his face. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach when he stopped in front of her. He kept his head low, and clasped his hands in front of him, leather gloves glistening in the dark.

She took a step back, creating more space between them, but she still tried to make out the man’s features. “Can I help you, sir?” She asked, and her voice came out more feeble than she intended.

“No,” a deep, hoarse voice resounded in the silence, making her gulp. “Can I help you?” Suddenly, the man raised his head, and two icy blue eyes pierced through her. Her breath hitched in her throat at the intensity of his gaze. There was something unsettling in that handsome face, which seemed to have been carved into marble. Pale skin, red lips and cheekbones sharp enough to cut into the stone. But his eyes were empty. Not even the pencil of the most skilled of the artist would be able to portray those features, to capture the essence of that man who looked like he was alive but not quite human.

“You called me,” he spoke again, staring right into her soul. His words made her furrow her eyebrows in confusion. Was he a madman? Was he messing with her? With her pulse increasing even more, she tried to bring herself to run, but her feet stayed anchored to the ground.

“Don’t be scared,” the stranger’s eyes shone with an emotion she couldn’t quite decipher, and his voice took on a reassuring, melodious tone. “I’m here to help you. It’s part of what I do.”

“What…” the words got stuck in her throat. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh I do bad things,” he squinted his eyes, the shadow of a smirk growing on his face. “And I do them so very well.”

She widened her eyes, still frozen in her spot. Was it the end? Was he going to kill her?

As if he could read right into her head, the man shook his head. “But don’t worry, love. I’m not going to hurt you.”

For a reason she couldn’t understand, she believed his words. Everything that came out of his mouth was an unquestionable truth. He took another step closer, and even though there was still distance between them, she felt as if he was engulfing her, shielding her from the cold and the heavy air. Suddenly, it was like her fear was being lifted off her, along with the pain and the hunger. A sense of safety embraced her, and then she realised. It was him. He was doing that. Helping her. He wasn’t human. He was an Angel.

With a victorious grin, Tommy extended his gloved hand, offering his palm to that lost, desperate soul. That innocent soul. His to taint.

Dividers credit

Celebration tag list: @look-at-the-soul

Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

Tag list: @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24 @kmc1989 @call-sign-shark @jomarch-wannabe

[clarste]

This may be too much work, so feel free to disregard this ask if so, but: Do you mind summarizing the plot of TH19? I've tried to piece it together through the translations I've been able to find online, but I'm not having much luck :')

Sure, why not. Spoilers below the break.

The incident that drives everything is that as a side-effect of what Chimata did in Touhou 18, some piece of land or whatever has lost its ownership, and theoretically a bunch of spirits are fighting to claim it. But the only spirits that matter for the plot are Yachie, Saki, and Yuuma, the three Animal Realm yakuza leaders from Touhou 17, who are using this as an opportunity to invade the surface. They each recruit an agent from Gensokyo to help them out (Biten, Enoko, and Chiyari), because Animal Realm spirits don't have bodies which limits what they can do on the surface.

However, Zanmu, a famous oni from Hell, doesn't like the idea of spirits from the Animal Realm taking over the surface. Not because she thinks they have a chance, but because if they cause too much chaos up there, the armies of Hell won't just sit back and watch, and would intercede as a peacekeeping force or whatever (Hell continues to be the USA, metaphorically). And that's bad. So she comes up with a plan to stop the animal yakuza, and that plan is basically the entirety of the game, because Zanmu is a nigh-omniscient genius chessmaster who can easily manipulate everyone from behind the scenes. That's not like, a magical power she has, she's just that good. A recurring theme is that everyone is "dancing on her palm" and that everything that could possibly happen has already been accounted for in The Plan.

Anyway, the basic gist of her plan is to insert double agents into each of the three animal yakuza gangs (Biten, Enoko, and Chiyari) and have them waste the yakuzas' time until the incident sorts itself out naturally, ie: the land's ownership naturally reasserts itself for whatever reason. So the new recruits' job is just to pretend to be bumbling and useless and prevent anything important from happening. And they do it because they are all absolutely loyal to Zanmu for various reasons, but hold no particular grudges against the yakuza and do seem to intend to stick around afterward. This part of the plan goes perfectly.

The next part of the plan is for Zanmu to personally beat up the three yakuza leaders, showing them that they never stood a chance to begin with so they won't even think of trying again, and then pretend to be the mastermind herself and lose to Reimu on purpose in order to reassert the status quo where Reimu always resolves incidents. However, what both Suika and Reimu intuit (and you can only use intuition against Zanmu, using logic will just fall into her trap) is that Zanmu has an ulterior motive here, which is to establish herself as an absolute being in everyone's minds, which would eventually lead to her naturally taking control over Gensokyo and running it like a zoo, an endangered animal preserve. "These creatures are too dumb to take care of themselves, and therefore I need to be in control."

Now, this is bad, but Zanmu is way too smart and strong to actually go up against directly. So the best Suika and Reimu can manage is to mess up her plan ever so slightly by not letting her lose on purpose to Reimu. IE: Zanmu wins the fight, doesn't get her perfect storybook ending where Reimu is the hero, and is forced to realize that she is not 100% infallible. Just 99% infallible.

Suika's plan also relies on Hisami betraying Zanmu, which doesn't make much sense on paper because she is completely loyal to her master, but she does it anyway because getting scolded is the only time when Zanmu pays any attention to her, and she desperately wants senpai to look at her, so it's like... Zanmu fatal flaw is not maintaining her personal relationships or something. While she did account for some "mischief," it takes a perfectly strange sequence of events for exactly one thing to go ever-so-slightly wrong.

Edit: I suppose I should add that the game is written like one of the recent fighting games, in that it assumes you've read all the story routes more or less in order, which is gated by needing to clear them to unlock others. So if you're reading the story translations out of order on a wiki that might explain your confusion. The game also kind of lies to you in the profiles, in that they provide information that is deliberately misleading in order to set up twists that occur in-game.

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

My payment for the ficlet:

Could I just get Zedaph being a silly? Thanks!

S.O.S / 88

words: 2,587 warnings: implied robot injury / abandonment a03 link! (i have an a03 now!!)

When Zedaph had first found her in the scrapyard, she’d been little more than a telegraph sounder. She wasn't even capable of making dihs or dahs, just dots and dashes. She was, by every definition of the word, useless; discarded, unuseable, utterly inutile… Broken. But Zedaph had never believed in such a word. Things were never really broken; just… temporarily decommissioned! They could be in states of disrepair, but never beyond repair. Everything could always be mended, rebuilt, improved; everything could always be fixed. That was why he came to the scrapyard in the first place. Zedaph knew what it was like to feel broken. He felt sympathy for every machine discarded by its creator in a wasteland of flotsam and jetsam, deserted and dejected. And so, whenever he wandered across one of these poor orphaned apparatuses, he felt it was his duty to try to give them what their inventor had not: A home. A purpose. Besides, it was much easier to fix an abandoned machine than to make one from scratch, especially back when he hadn't had the funding to afford his own materials. Upon closer inspection, it looked like her developer had intended for her to be a translator of sorts. A humanoid polygotic interpreter AI which had been designed to serve as an assistant to foreign diplomats and ambassadors. Scavengers had had their way with her, however, and so she didn't even have the tools left to serve as a functional morse code transliterator, let alone a functional world-wide translator. There was a twisted sort of irony in the fact that the AI meant to translate for others was unable to even properly translate her own thoughts and feelings into words, able to process the words being spoken but never able to understand them. Able to talk but never able to speak. A translator who couldn't even translate herself.

For the first few weeks when Zed had been working on fixing her transmitter, she always kept repeating the same string of sounds: Dot, dot, dash. Dot, dot, dash. She made the noise so often, it became an association, and Zed decided that was just what he would call her in meantime - a bit of a mouthful, sure, but wasn't Dot Dot Dash a better name then Unnamed Abandoned Appartus Number 21? It was just a temporary title until he found a way to get her communications sorted and she could come up with their own name, anyway. Though it turns out, she had been saying her own name, in a way: Dot, dot, dash. E-E-T. Ease-Enhancing Translator. Her hostname. He'd only figured that out when he found the marque on her forehead about three weeks into her repair. For a genius, he could be a little bit stupid, sometimes. Maybe really stupid. When he did finally figure out how to repair her transmissions, for about a month she was stuck only speaking in Dutch, because he'd accidentally selected the system's default of Netherlandic as his preferred language instead of his own of English in his excitement to get her up and running. And, with her operating system now in a foreign language, it was incredibly difficult to figure out how to turn on her bilateralism. Not his brightest moment. But it didn't mean it didn't lead to bright moments. Even though they couldn't communicate, at least not through language, that didn't mean they couldn't communicate in other ways. That didn't mean that, over that month, he didn't learn that she was an absolute menace at Mario Kart (Guess the Dash part of her name really rung true!), that she'd become an immediate fanatic of Hamilton, and that Sesame Street was her favourite comfort show. Just because they couldn't exchange words didn't mean they couldn't exchange glances, exchange touches, exchange laughs, exchange smiles. Just because he couldn't understand a word she said didn't mean he couldn't understand that he was falling head over heels for her. It took an embarrassing amount of time and effort, but eventually, inevitably, he finally managed to repair her communication system. And, finally, they managed to have their first conversation.

"So… what's your name?" It was a bit odd, asking the question; such a simple, innocent question, but it felt wrong. It was the sort of thing you asked somebody you just met. But they hadn't just met… not really. It felt like they'd known each other for years. All their lives. And, yet, these were the first words they'd ever spoken to each other. He - literally - knew her innerworkings inside and out, and yet, he didn't even know her name. They knew everything about each other, but at the same time, nothing at all. The robot replied with a simple answer to a simple question: "Dot, Dot, Dash." "Oh — oh my goddess, oh dear, oh no — did I accidentally set you back to Morse Code again?!" Oh, this was horrendous, he'd been trying to help but he'd put her back all the way back to square one— "No, no," A jittery, high-pitched sound came out of the android's voicebox, a soft laugh as she reeled Zed's hand away from her inner panel. "That's my name." "It is?" Zed asked, baffled and still slightly breathless from the scare, before he jumped slightly with the startled realisation, "Oh — oh! Oooh, Because, that's what I've been calling you — no, no, nonono, that's — that doesn't have to be your name, you see, I just… well, it felt awful drab calling you by a model number, and you always used to go dot, dot, dash!, So I was just using it as a placeholder, which, I… which I am realising, was perhaps slightly insensitive, it's little better then calling you boop beep bop, now that I'm thinking about it, it would be like naming a dog woof woof… Oh my gosh, I am so sorry—" "— I like it." "—Oh, I'm such a dunce, imagine calling a duck quack quack, or a chicken cluck clu— wait, you… what?" "Yeah!" She smiled. "It's silly! Who cares if it's a bit on-the-nose?" She booped his nose for emphasis before she continued, "It feels like me." "O—oh! Well… well, in that case. It's… It's nice to meet you, Dot Dot Dash! I'm Zedaph." He held a hand out for her to shake out of cordiality. Dot stared at his outstretched hand dubiously, her features almost betraying offence at his attempt at courtesy, enough to make him almost begin to worry it had been a test to see if he'd fall for calling her such an offensive name and he'd fallen for it, like an idiot… and before he had a chance to profusely apologise again and retract both his hand and his statement, she abruptly grabbed him by his offered hand and pulled him in… …to a hug. "Zedaph… I've watched you fling an oreo from your forehead into your mouth on multiple occasions, you once bit into an onion like an apple and then rubbed it on your face to make yourself cry, you sleep with a mint condition package of Minions playing cards underneath your pillow, your favourite colour is red even though everything you own is pink… I already know you, Zed. And you know me. Just because we didn't know each others' names doesn't mean we didn't know each other… and it certainly doesn't mean this is our first time meeting. This isn't an introduction… it's just… finally getting a chance to say hello." "O—oh." Zed felt his voice crack. There was nothing between them now, no barrier, language or otherwise. His voice was soft as he whispered, "Hello." Her voice was softer, a smile on her lips, as she whispered back, "Hallo."

Not another word fell from either of their lips. They didn't need words. Sometimes, actions were more powerful than words. And their lips' actions spoke louder than any sentence they could have strung.

.. / .-.. --- …- . / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

Safe to say, everybody on Hermitcraft loved Dot. And not just because she was one of the most talented people on the server - which she was, indisputably. She'd been built as an interpreter, but her skills were far from confined to linguistics…. she made the most thrilling commercials and logos for the shops in the Shopping District in all of it's history: Lookie Lookie at My Bookie, Shade-E-E's, Beefy Stores, Lamps Plus, ODEA… that was just to name a few successful bussinesses' whose success could wholly be attributed to Dot. She was also an absolute marvel when it came to the political field, somehow simultaneously making adverts for both Mumbo, Scar, and Plopper's mayor campaigns without either party realizing she was also advertising for every opposition, playing every side of the spectrum. And then, later, she pulled the exact same thing with HEP, The Podzol Party, and The Mycelium Resistance… This feat was one that could either be attributed to her astounding intelligence or the Hermits' astounding lack of intelligence. She was also a stupefying film director, and, in a similar vein, a stupefying music video director! Maybe too stupefying of a music video director. He still had nightmares about Bohemian Keralisody. And he couldn't help but still be a little lingeringly offended that both Poultry Man and Iskallman got their own fan edits but Wormman, the significantly cooler superhero of the server, got ziltch. Not that it was personal, just an astute observation from an outsider with no stakes in the superhero business whatsoever. He really didn't get why Poultryman of all people was her favourite superhero… to the point she'd requested he manufacture her a pair of bionic chicken wings. She even had him provide her with a chicken soundboard so she could communicate with her new brethern… which she had specifically requested not be made with real chickens' voices, as they could not consent to being recorded and doing so would infringe upon their rights, so the soundboard ended up just being Zed going buck, buck, buckawk! into a microphone for her at various pitches and inflections to use as she saw fit. She even ended up making an alter ego by the name of Stanley in an attempt to become Poultryman's sidekick, despite the fact there were much cooler superheroes out there to sidekick for besides a chicken in a trenchcoat. For completely random example: Wormman. Wormman was much cooler! And actually looking for sidekicks! Not that Zed was jealous. Not at all! Just a third-party observation.

Anyways. You'd think, surely, being the top graphic designer, commercial producer, film producer, and music video producer in the game was impressive enough of a resume… no, her awesomeness didn't stop there, not even close. She also dabbled in the armour stand business, and even further, became one of the server's best castle architects. Which was quite was a feat, given it seemed every season at least somebody had to build a grand castle of some sorts. But her castles were better than all of them - better then the NHO Castle, The Red Sky Bay Castle, Coe's Quest Castle, Wels' Cathedral, Bdubs' Castle, The Area 77 Castle, Stress' Ice Castle, RentheKing's Castle, The… wow, Zed was just realizing, Hermitcraft really did have a lot of castles. But, digressing! Her castles were the best castles. And that wasn't even just him being biased in his girlfriend's favour - that was just a fact. If monarchy on Hermitcraft didn't have a reputation for ending with a HoTgUy to the face, he would have crowned her Queen of Hermitcraft. It seemed the only thing she couldn't do was hit the high note in Hamilton's Burn… an feat she was coming closer and closer to achieving every day, which terrified Zed, for he was sure once she did so she'd become the epitome of perfection on all fronts and would transcend this mortal plane in a state of sublime quintessence.

Luckily for Zed, though, Dot had no intent to transcend. As much as Zed raved about her accomplishments, which were impressive in their own right, she wasn't going anywhere while she hadn't completed her greatest accomplishment of all. Her life's mission. Dot wanted to make sure nobody ever struggled like she had again. Words, vocabulary, verbality… Language itself was it's own 55-pin ladder puzzle. She was built to be a translator, and a translator she would be… not just for other languages, but for languages within languages, for inflections and undertones and connotations and implications that might as well have been their own language. She didn't want to let linguistic barriers to prevent somebody from living their best life… from saying hi to the love of their life. If she'd given up trying to speak English, she'd have never gotten the chance to tell Zed she loved him in words he would understand. And if he had given up on repairing her auditory processor, she'd have never gotten the chance to understand when he told her he loved her in words she'd understand. She still had a long way to go to be the global translator she was built to be, she didn't speak near seven-thousand languages nor with the fluency she would have liked, but that was okay. Because one of the languages she could speak was English - and, if anybody struggled with the language, just like she used to, she wanted to be there to help. To be what Zed had been to her — a teacher, a friend, and a crutch. The first person she helped, of course — coming full-circle — was Zedaph himself. The conversation went a little something like this: "Zed, dear, could you bring Danny's leash downstairs?" "Hm?" "I asked if could you bring Danny's leash downs—" "Come again?" "I SAID COULD YOU BRING DANNY'S LE—" "PARDON??" And that was how they learned that being in constant proximity to loud industrial machinery and exploding himself for comedic effect on a near-daily basis was not very good for his eardrums. It didn't take her long to diagnosis him with partial hearing loss, prescribe him with proper ear protection, and invent something to help. CCs she called it, or Closed Captions. Not a very original name, but it got the point across! She never really understood Zed's tendency to give things elaborate names like The Chickenerator, or Zombie Plinko, or The Celestial Cosmodrome… well, actually, she supposed she couldn't blame him for that one, but, the point with the first two still stood! The CCs were a simple device; a pair of contact-lenses that provided real time, accurate translations of what was being said in the corner of the wearer's vision. It was even toggleable! A subtle way to get subtitles in your subsidiary. And it wasn't soon after she'd made Zedaph his pair that word spread, and GeminiTay appeared at her doorstep to politely inquire what it could cost to have a similar device manufactured for herself. Gem didn't suffer from quite the same plight as Zed, but instead with an auditory processing disorder, which made Dot realise how helpful her invention could actually be to the Hermit masses… whether hard-of-hearing hermits, second-language hermits, hermits with auditory processing disorders, or even just hermits who preferred reading over listening… She was helping people. Even if only two, the fact she could even just help two people struggle a little bit less with the language she had struggled with for so long made it worth it. It made it so, when Zed praised her for how indisputably awesome she was, she could smile, and say, without hesitation, "I know!"

[originmade]

HEADCANON - THREE GRAND FAIRY SPELLS

Fairy Tail as a guild is rather famous ( or infamous ) for many things, but one that exists more as a legend than a known fact are the Three Grand Fairy Spells. The term was coined by Fairy Tail's second guild master, Precht Gaebolg, as a way to describe three powerful spells created by Mavis during her lifetime and the knowledge of which has been passed down from generation to generation within the guild via the guild masters. This post will go over the creation and purpose of all three spells based on their introduction within the series.

ONE. FAIRY LAW.

Fairy Law is an iteration of the black magic spell 'Law', an extremely powerful and ancient spell used as a means of judgement, purging what the caster deems as evil from their target, leaving behind what they deem as good. This spell, while lost to the ages, is known for its steep learning curve and disastrous consequences for being cast in an incomplete state. Despite all of this, Mavis herself cast the spell, knowing it was a last resort and there was no time to master a spell. The cost of the spell is unparalleled, but Mavis also understood the versatility and importance of a spell like Law, which brought her to the conclusion of altering it, in the hopes of preventing anyone else from falling into a similar fate as her own. There were two primary school of thoughts when she began her work altering the spell. One. Prevent anyone from falling victim to the same fate as herself upon casting it. She needed to implement a fail safe into the spell in case it was being cast in an incomplete form, and thus decided the best course of action was to have the spell call from the casters life force. Because the intended use of Law, and by extension, Fairy Law, is to be used on a limited target at a limited range, Mavis believed this cost of casting was the safest route to go, and would also deter the misuse of the spell, both in terms of large scale battles or careless casting. Two. To ensure that the caster is fully aware and accepts the price of which they are paying to cast this spell, a secondary fail safe was put into place. With a spell as powerful and dangerous as Law, the last thing Mavis would have wanted is the spell to be used against someone without proper intent or realization. This lead Mavis to alter the spell to be only be effective on those who they believe to be their enemies within their hearts. This prevented the spell from being misused in a moment of rage or disagreement and would cause the spell to be fundamentally useless against those in who both the heart and mind do not agree upon as an enemy. Fairy Law was the last of the spells to be created, as its inception lined up with the second trade war following Mavis' realization that if she herself could find and cast an incomplete version of Law in a moment of desperation, what was stopping an exhausted wizard soldier ( someone who held very little stakes in this conflict ) from finding and casting Law themselves in hopes of ending the conflict. Thankfully, the war had come to its conclusion before Mavis was able to complete the spell, but that did not stop her from making the knowledge of the spell readily accessible to those within the guild. The instructions on how to cast Fairy Law were written and published by Mavis to be held within the guild library, with the goal of someone coming across Fairy Law long before they find Law itself and will cast that version instead. Following the revelation of her immortality due to casting Law, Mavis had relentlessly cast Fairy Law upon herself, hoping that her altered spell and it's cost of the caster's life would counteract the immortality and take her own life. These attempts were unsuccessful and caused Mavis to exhaust her magic supply on multiple instances, leading her to pass out in isolated locations for multiple days on end ( something she truly didn't mind considering what her end goal was )

TWO. FAIRY GLITTER

Fairy Glitter is a spell created to vanquish those who the caster deem as wicked by gathering the light of the sun, moon and stars and concentrating the light into a singular point, this being the caster's forearm before being directed upon their target. While little is known about this spell, even within the guild itself, Fairy Glitter stands as the strongest of the three spells created by Mavis. As the first of the three grand fairy spells, the spell itself actually proceeds the guild's existence by almost a year as it's creation was primarily out of grief and as a way for Mavis to channel the energy she would have used mourning into something she would deem productive ( a destructive habit Mavis has always had since the siege of Red Lizard ). The sole inspiration for Fairy Glitter came from Mavis' final moments with Zera, watching her best friend and only true support system vanish away in a blinding light and become what she could only describe in that moment as glitter. The pain Mavis felt in that moment, being blinded by what she could only tell herself was the light of the heavens and the universe, awoke an almost cruel part of her mind, wanting to find a way to channel that pain into something effective, eventually leading to the creation of Fairy Glitter. It's strength was both fully intentional and an extreme oversight on Mavis' part. Mavis wanted the spell to be something anyone could wield, as long as their conviction, will and heart were all in the right place, it didn't matter if the caster was alive or not, physical or illusion. This implication of the spell lead it to being effective against the intangible ( thought projections, illusions, souls ) and cause damage to the origin as well. Mavis found it almost fitting that it carried this additional effect, almost comforted in the fact that the caster could use the spell to defend themselves from things others may not see. Within a year, Mavis had refined the spell, channeling its power within a magic circle which would be imprinted on the casters arm as a beacon to summon the magic energy to. This process does cause damage to the caster's arm, as all the energy of the spell is held within that point until released upon their target. Multiple castings of this spell and in rapid succession can lead to the caster's arm becoming permanently damaged. Despite it's immense power and high versatility, very little people know of the spells existence. This was a spell made of grief and almost as a memorial to Mavis' closest friend, and thus wanted to keep it to herself. The only people who knew of the spells existence were the other three founders, as they were with her upon placing the spell in Zera's grave on Tenro as it's final resting place. Mavis had also placed a spell upon the grave, believing that Zera's spirit was still residing on the island, and thus gave the decision on who could wield the spell to her deceased friend. There have only been three mages to wield Fairy Glitter since its inception: Mavis Vermillion, Yuriy Dreyar and Cana Albarona

THREE. FAIRY SPHERE.

Fairy Sphere, known as the ultimate defense spell, forms and impenetrable sphere around the casters by harnessing the energy of multiple mages and the bonds they share to materialize. The strength of the spell is partially dependent on how many people are casting the spell and the strength of the bond of those involved. Created a few months before wizarding guilds were pulled into the second trade war, Fairy Sphere was originally supposed to be a healing and support spell. Healing magic was already considered a lost magic during this era but Mavis was always considered rather stubborn and determined, so she took whatever available knowledge she could find and began developing a spell. Her attempts kept ending in failures and she was almost ready to abandon the project before Warrod approached her with the idea of making a defense spell rather than a healing spell, which caused her to shift her trajectory and began researching defense based magics instead. Although she is credited as the sole creator of the spell, a large portion of the ideas and concepts came from Warrod himself, although he would never take credit for it, claiming that he was just spit balling ideas at Mavis and wasn't a real help ( something Mavis would greatly beg to differ ). It was Warrod's input that lead to Mavis altering the spell to require multiple wizards to cast it, especially considering Warrod was one to protect those he loves above himself and where he drew his strength from. Although it's primary function had shifted to defense, Mavis was still determined to create some form of healing within the spell. She eventually came to the conclusion that she wanted those within the sphere to be protected from existing ailments, poisons or curses. Her solution to this was to implement a strong nullification magic within the sphere, with the intention of pausing whatever was causing the ailment from spreading. It was a large oversight on Mavis' part that the nullification spell could be cast improperly and cause time to pause within the sphere. While she was the creator of the spell, she never intended for it to be able to stop time and prevent aging. By the time of the spells completion, wizarding guilds had been pulled into the war, leaving Mavis preoccupied with tactical meetings and the development of Fairy Law, which lead to Warrod being the one to write down the instructions on how to cast Fairy Sphere. Of all three of her spells, Fairy Sphere was the only one Mavis had not been able to cast within her lifetime, only successfully casting it following her death on Tenro. However, Mavis was made aware that the spell could be cast successfully after word had gotten back from her that Warrod and Precht and successfully casted a much weaker version of the spell during a battle. While all of those involved in the war were aware of the spells existence, most knowledge of it had faded to obscurity after peace was establish.

[giantbonfirestars]

A World Left Behind

Chapter 5: A lack of power

Lucinda walked through the front door of her house for the first time in what feels like forever. It looked exactly the same as how she left it all those months ago.

But she wasn’t the same.

Those who were relics were each effected differently. If anything, she was lucky compared to Zane and Aaron. Aaron had complete amnesia and went blind, while Zane had some kind of weird brain damage. She wasn’t exactly sure of the full effects on him, but he kept calling her Seven, which was weird.

Meanwhile, she lost her magic. She was a powerless witch. That is probably the only reason her mind didn’t get screwed up.

But without her magic, who was she?

Lucinda set her bag down, deciding to unpack later. Right now, she wanted to sleep. Her sleep schedule has been all over the place lately. Before, she had a nocturnal sleep schedule, but then she had to switch to a, quote unquote, normal sleep schedule while on Starlight if she wanted to participate in the activities with the others. But most recently, she hadn’t really been sleeping at all, the constant stress and fear of being discovered kept her up most nights and days, throwing off her sleep schedule entirely.

Lucinda carefully laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling. With the lack of sleep she had been getting, along with the pure exhaustion she felt from everything else going on, sleep should have been easy. But it just refused to take her into its gentle embrace.

So she just laid there, staring at her ceiling, just out of the grasp of slumber.

Irene knows how long she had been lying there when she eventually gave up. She got up and walked outside, it was still light out so it must not have been too long. Everyone who had been outside earlier was inside now, so it wasn’t too short either. Lucinda walked out to the shed in her backyard, it held a majority of her potion ingredients and spell books. She could still make use of a majority of the potion books and ingredients because you didn’t need to be magical yourself to get them to work as intended. The spells on the other hand, those came from the person casting them, those no longer served her a purpose.

Maybe she could gift them to Kim and Ghost, they would actually be able to use them. As saddened as she is by losing her own magic, Lucinda is still so proud of them for unlocking Ghost’s magic within Kim’s body.

Lucinda began grabbing as many spell books as she could hold and brought them back into her house. She stacked them neatly in a box, planning on delivering it herself later. Not today though, it was late and she was still tired. She went back outside to grab the rest of the books, coming up with plans in her head as she did.

Perhaps she could help them with their magic. Even if she didn’t have any of her own, she could still help by giving tips and advice. She could help Ghost learn more spells, and help train Kim’s body to better handle the more powerful ones. That is, if they’re willing and want her help.

Lucinda put the last books in the box, luckily they all managed to fit in one. A majority of her books were for spells rather than potions, so she didn’t have all that many left. Not that she needed the books anymore anyway, she memorized it all a long time ago. Well, all except for one. The potions book that had found in the caves below the cabin over a year ago. She still needed to finish studying it, even if some of it was useless to her now.

Lucinda stopped at that thought. The potions requiring the special emeralds were useless because she didn’t have access to any and couldn’t even begin to know where to find more. But the potions that required the person putting the potions together to possess magic within them, those made her useless. She couldn’t do anything with that information anymore if she wanted to, and it was her fault.

She’s the one who pushed Michel out of Terry’s mind and into Travis’ and it was there that everything went south. Garroth and Katelyn got controlled, something she had gone through herself and would never wish on even her worst enemy. Aaron got captured and all the innocents on the island got their very souls taken out of their bodies. And now everyone is still suffering because she foolishly pushed Michel into a body that didn’t already know how to suppress and control him. Kim and Ghost helped too but it wasn’t their fault, Kim had never used magic before and Ghost hadn’t used it in hundreds of years; but Lucinda was the experienced one, she was the one to blame.

As Lucinda laid back in her bed, realization came to her. It wasn’t old fear of capture still active that was keeping her awake like she originally suspected, but rather it was guilt. The guilt of knowing she unintentionally caused the suffering of many all because she didn’t take a moment to understand the situation.

This was all her fault.

Jeez, haven't updated this in a while. Hope the wait was worth it despite this chapter being so short

Just to be clear, I do not actually think Luci is to blame for the events of what happened in When Angels Fall. Those are just the thoughts I gave to her because I need angst!

Prev | First | Next

Next chapter is back to Garroth POV

[crystalelemental]

When I was a child, there was something that really bugged me in Pokemon games. Why was it that some Pokemon showed up so late? I really like Misdreavus, but it's all the way in Mt Silver! Even smaller issues like Seel in FRLG felt annoying. I have to beat five whole gyms without this thing? Why even pick it up? This led, inevitably, to my first hacking device: a GameShark for Gen 3. I have a vivid memory of replaying FRLG, excited to hack in my own personalized and very normal starter, Articuno. Articuno was so great when you caught it! Surely it would be even better if I could use it all game!

Now...I did not have the internet at the time. And by Gen 3, I was perhaps overconfident about not needing a strategy guide. So while you may know what happened already, I did not know what was coming. Articuno sucked. Like, really bad. If you look at it, it turns out the answer is obvious: it only knows Gust and Powder Snow as attacks until Ice Beam at level 49. Which...hey, wait a second. That's only one level below what you catch it at to begin with! And it turns out, this was similar all over. Seel didn't learn anything but Headbutt until level 17, it was useless against Brock despite its typing. What is going on? Why do all these Pokemon I like when I catch them at the intended time suck so badly when I get them early?

At the time, I blamed it on the Pokemon being bad and just hacked rare candies. But over time, you begin to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the game was designed on purpose? That maybe there was a structure to the game at large that kept things in balance. With age, it stops being "this was badly designed because I didn't get what I wanted out of it," and starts to become its own thing. To quote a famous Nuzleaf, I believe all of this is happening for a reason.

Friends...let's talk Sword and Shield.

My team was Rillaboom, Thievul, Butterfree, Mr. Rime, Alcremie, and Dragapult kinda sorta, with additional showcasings for Carkoal and Perrserker. I say sorta kinda on Dragapult because I intended to use it, but it didn't fully evolve until after I beat Leon. Oops!

If the intro wasn't a giveaway, I want to talk gameplay first. While we'll get to the story issues, I think gameplay matters more to Pokemon, and is the bigger problem that keeps Galar low on my list. To get some small housekeeping out of the way first:

I will not be harping on graphics, I don't care. Yes I know performance isn't good, but it's mildly annoying at worst.

I will not be harping on designs, they're largely fine. The starters are one of the weakest sets, and the box legends might be my least favorite, but there are plenty of good ones to the region as well.

I will not say "game too easy," but I will be discussing factors that led people to that assertion.

I will not be talking about Dexit. While I hated it at first, having calmed from it, I think it's for the best. I liked when Gen 5 forced you to use the new stuff to generate new favorites, and if anything Dexit should go harder by removing Home so they can more severely tweak stats and movesets between generations.

My problem with Gen 8 gameplay my very well be my own preferred means of playing, but I'm going to attempt making my case with three examples.

First: Growth via TM progression. In my Crystal run, I ran a Togetic, and have a pretty rough time of it. Togetic was never particularly strong, but it had an arc, picking up Mud Slap for Morty, Sunny Day/Solarbeam/Flamethrower for several Kanto gyms, and then falling back on Psychic/Zap Cannon when the earlier set wasn't working out. Togetic had an arc of struggle, in which it had to find tools that made it work for each phase of the game, that came down to recently acquired TMs the game provided naturally. Barring Flamethrower, all of these were free acquisitions.

Compare this to Thievul is Galar. It also is pretty bad, despite access to Nasty Plot, because its best attacking move is Snarl. It needs TMs to learn anything else. But in Galar, TMs are no longer infinite, as TRs now cover the really good moves. And the only way to get them is random den drops, and random shop items around the Wild Area for thousands of Watts, when a full den gives only 300. Acquiring the specific TM it wants is next to impossible. Dens aren't guaranteed to be Dark type, and even if they are, you could get other dark moves like Crunch. The shops aren't guaranteed to sell Dark Pulse, and even if they are, how long will it take to farm 5000 Watts? There is no control over what the Wild Area produces, and thus no arc to be had for anything specific.

Second: growth via learnset progression. In Emerald, I ran a Mawile. Caught at level 37 in Victory Road, we needed several levels before it could learn the move that would give it relevance, and the EXP options were scarce. I had to use an EXP All, cutting the entire team's EXP gains just for Mawile to catch up, while trying to find optional areas with trainers left, and at times trying to keep Mawile in to win the fight herself. There's a struggle and a cost to the growth unit perspective.

Compare that to my Butterfree. Until it gained Quiver Dance, Butterfree contributed little beyond the occasional Sleep Powder lockdown. It took off once it learned Quiver Dance, but the means of getting there was just...have it in the team. Even on the back row, it'll be fine and catch up with no real issue. There's not much of a struggle to overcome, or a sense that you're building things. It just kinda happens to you.

Third: Galar's Intent. I do not have a comparison point for this, but Mr. Rime. Probably my MVP! Once it hits Mr. Mime, it has Icy Wind, Psybeam, and Dazzling Gleam. With a Thunderbolt TM I had randomly picked up from an early den, it had excellent coverage that took down a majority of the region past its evolution. This was a fairly fun find.

I think that's the intent of Galar's structure: accidents. Surprises. The Wild Area lacks any sense of control, holding events locked to the day and forcing save commitments that refuse to allow soft resets for different outcomes. If you can roll with the punches, and accept whatever comes at you, this game probably is a lot of fun. That's probably why my wife likes it so much. But if you can't...well, you're like me, and this game is really difficult to appreciate.

I will, however, argue that it's not just me. The Wild Area's structure is awkward, being the sole home of a lot of different Pokemon, who will only show up under specific weather conditions and at very low rates. Look up how to find Dreepy some time. But the dens lack control as well, unless you manipulate the system's clock in the right way. Then, even if you find something you want, you have to hope for the random TM to drop too. I decided to use Rillaboom because I never once ran a starter, and part of Rillaboom was wanting TMs that required time manipulation to find in stock. If you come in wanting literally anything, the Wild Area is very likely to deny you. You have to come in wanting for nothing at all, working only with what's handed to you, to have a good time.

Which feels crazy disingenuous to me? Pokemon is all about the little critters you can find, and growing an attachment to things you want to catch. Not everything even comes from what's randomly found, sometimes you see something in an enemy team and get really excited for that thing. Like, imagine seeing something like Cursola in Allister's team, and going man, that looks cool! Regional Corsola and it gets an evolution, sign me up! So you go out into the world hoping to get it, only to find that it shows up exactly 5% of the time under one (1) specific weather condition in one (1) region of the Wild Area. Better hope that one area has the right weather condition or there is no way in hell you're getting that Corsola!

I just...I get that replaying Pokemon games is a thing, and that each experience can be different, and that having some random outcomes is beneficial. But Galar takes it way too far. I think their intent was to give players technical access to what they want right away, without making it actually available. See, this is something I heard and agree with: Pokemon is most engaging while you're building the team. Postgames have felt difficult for me to appreciate because my team is done, my moveset is done, I don't want to do the volcano in Platinum I just want to finish. You need to have a ladder to climb and a goal to reach for the game to remain engaging. But players are also impatient, and have gotten worse with this series over time. Learned movesets went from situations where Gyarados learns very little of value naturally, to learning its best Water move at like level 21. Players will tell you they want the feeling of being done early, but that provably kills the experience.

Another thing I'd do with hacking as a kid was bring in all TMs. Yeah, let's start HGSS with a Swinub that has Ice Beam, Rock Slide, and Earthquake, what could go wrong? It turns out everything at once, as you just clobber the entire early game with no resistance. There was no real challenge to approaching the game in this way, and the run turns stale fast because oops, Swinub had its best moveset right out the gate. I started a lot of runs in those days but rarely finished, and it's why nowadays I do have some compulsion about the purity of a run. It can actually take away part of the joy. And more than likely, the devs know this too. So if players demand the ability to kill that joy, but you want to sustain it, what's the compromise?

Make it all so random that it's borderline impossible to account for anything. Yeah dude, you can get everything right away! But you can't get anything specific at all. Which solves nothing and creates new problems. Because now there's no progression toward the endgame outside of learnset, and some learnsets in Galar are hilariously bad. You ever looked at Coalossal's moveset? Its best Rock move is Rock Blast at 54. Good luck not using TMs and making that thing work to any enjoyment. It feels like they overshot the mark, and for anyone who plays like I do, thinking about what Pokemon you want to run or trying to chart a course for the game, it's naturally going to be miserable. Galar still ranks really low for me, but I at least feel like I understand what Galar may have wanted to do.

Gameplay aside...it's time to talk about the aspect that got my wife laughing at me, and will probably have @alphakuriboh saying some things too. Story.

Much like XY, Galar is generally considered a low point for story. Doesn't make sense, antagonist is stupid, etc, you know the drill. However, I do think they Galar was cooking to some degree.

Rose is the main sticking point regarding story, because...again, the antagonist's actions are the only story we get in Pokemon. And he kinda pingpongs. Worried about a millenium from now, he refuses to wait 24 of god's own hours for Leon to finish his sports tournament, and unleashes hell. He acts sad about the state of affairs but resolved that he must do it, then after you beat him is back to borderline cheerful about how fun battles could be. You solve the problem, and Rose turns himself in, never to be heard from again. That is. An event, my dude.

Thing is, I think his actions make more sense given his character, and the theme of Galar. Galar's big theme is a sort of "passing the torch," best summarized by Opal. The old need to know when to step out of the way, but we're not done yet. Opal's stance and her actions tell the full picture. It's not that the old blood needs to disappear, but rather that at some point, the young need to take ownership of their future. They're the ones most impacted by the conditions going forward, after all, and it's important they be granted the ability to decide for themselves what they want.

Rose, as a character, denies that entirely. He manipulates the younger generations for his own ends, and his motivation is about maintaining his own view of things and his legacy 1000 years in the future. Yes, it's a far off problem that can be solved a bit later, but that's not the point. This is his problem, and it has to be solved his way. And most importantly, solved how he commands it. His lack of patience isn't about truly being so hasty. It's about forcing Leon back into compliance. Even if Leon didn't strictly say no, it wasn't a yes, and that's not how this goes.

Rose acts kind, propping up Leon as the unbeatable champion and giving Bede his position and mission. But his actions aren't altruistic. Leon now holds the same neuroses as Rose, taking everything on as his own responsibility. Accidents at the power plant? He'll talk to Rose, you all go on. Dynamax Pokemon going out of control? He'll take care of it, don't worry. Eternatus is unleashed? He'll catch it and take care of it. That last one is even what Rose wants! Leon falls completely into his expected role that Rose shaped for him. Bede also falls exactly into the role he expects, even if it results in discarding him and banning him from the competition as a result. Rose controls the youth in order to shape his vision of the future.

While I didn't play it, I imagine this is the intent with Shieldbert and Sordward, too. Control over the truth of the past alters what you think to do in the future, and so they are just another iteration on this idea, albeit less fleshed out.

Rose's future also lacks accounting for everyone's future. Spikemuth is in horrible poverty because they lack a power spot to draw energy from, or to Dynamax for spectacle from. Any future Rose builds will continue this inequality. His vision of preserving the future isn't a net positive for others, but that's not important. What's important is that it's his future. Which is why he lets himself be locked up. If the energy crisis was really the main concern, then your character catching Eternatus and beating Leon should result in another attempt. It never comes because at this point, whatever happens next is no longer his future. He can't care if it's not what he wanted.

The flip flop on his general mood state is a little harder to read with certainty, but I imagine the intent is one of cycles. I doubt he crafted this company from nothing, and his family likely had their own expectations of him that led to him perceiving every little thing as his concern and losing connection with the fun of things. It's a bit messy, but I'd be lying if I said the start of his fight with him gripping the Pokemon wasn't a cool individual scene.

Now before I get too positive, I do think Galar's story is also rife with problems. Primarily, its refusal to engage the player in anything. We feel utterly disconnected from anything going on with Rose or the region, because Leon's taking care of it instead of us. It does hinder the feeling that we're doing anything particularly important or special.

I also feel like some of their decisions were rather...poor, regarding passing the torch. Mostly Magnolia, if I'm honest. I think the decision to not even use your first old female professor to play up her 20-something granddaughter is...telling. God forbid female professors be old, they have to be super young and pretty. I just think it would've been more interesting to have Sonia acting as assistant to Magnolia and piecing together what your player character does instead. It gives Magnolia more spotlight, and gives Sonia like...an actual function beyond turning to you all the time to ask what you think, rather than posit ideas of her own.

Lastly and most vitriolically...what is the point of Marnie? No really, why is she here? Spikemuth's situation is understood, but Piers carries all the interesting stuff. Refusing to Dynamax as a statement about the inequality and the value of its residents is fantastic, and Marnie just throws it out the window. She holds no convictions, and at no point in the story does she really do anything. She's around for the ride until Piers shows up and has an actual emotional stake in things. His own passing the gym leader torch to her doesn't even feel valuable because she's so disconnected from his philosophical stance. I think Marnie should've been the one out here making that statement by refusing Dynamaxing while climbing the League's ladder, and Team Yell benefits from this as their interference can be interpreted as concern that their one chance for a Champion is playing risky by not using Dynamax for some political point. She just feels pointless.

The less said about postgame the better. That entire sequence is just tedious and annoying and completely missed its mark dramatically.

Unlike Kalos, Galar remains low on the list. I'll admit, I have been harsher on the game than was strictly called for, but I maintain it's one of my least favorites. Its entire design is just so functional antithetical to what I like in these games.

Next...I'm gonna be real, I have no idea. I'm kind of in stasis right now. I don't feel like replaying Gen 9, that's too fresh. I considered White 2 but didn't love White 1, so I'm hesitant. I considered ORAS, which...might be next. And for my own console time...it's either BDSP or I pick up one of the games in my backlog. We'll see what I feel like doing tomorrow.

[luckyrave]

Avatar The Last Airbender Episode 10 Highlights: Jet

Aang, Katara, and Sokka decide not to travel on Appa this time around because of an instinct from a certain warrior. The Fire Nation always seemed to have a way of spotting them because they always travel around on his back, and as such Sokka thinks its better that they walk on foot instead. A decision that led to them right towards some Fire Nation soldiers by mere coincidence, but also as luck happened to be at their side Jet and his gang of friends The Freedom swept in to save them from the encounter.

Jet and his freedom fighters had once lived in an Earth Kingdom village that was overtaken by some Fire Nation soldiers, and the entire goal for him was to drive them out of the town permanently by cutting off the town's supply lines. Sokka at first felt some jealousy towards Jet after his sister felt a sense of infatuation with the leader, but he bare no ill-will towards the water tribe warrior at all.

That is until The following morning when Sokka went on patrol with Jet and The Freedom fighters where they came across an old man that had traveled a great long distance. A simpleton who had just minded his own business ,but one in which Jet and some of the other Freedom Fighters bullied because the old man had been from The Fire Nation. A result of which only led to a dispute when it came to the clash of ideologies between the two warriors, and Sokka attempted to tell Aang and Katara that they leave after he shared the story of what happened.

Only, Jet found a way to manipulate the situation with a false lie when confronted by Aang and Katara by the method of a knife which held a dose of poison in the hilt by claiming that the old fire nation hermit was an assassin, and how it was thanks to Sokka that he still stood before him. A claim where Sokka was left in disbelief and quickly stormed off, but only after did Jet beg Aang and Katara to stay to help them.

Come nightfall, Sokka catches Jet and the main members of The Freedom Fighters about their plan that revolved around blasted jelly within a multitude of barrels centered beneath the river that would destroy The Damn. Some tension was placed amongst The Freedom Fighters when it came to the villagers lives, but Jet reminds them of what the purpose was and it left Sokka with a chance to escape only for him to have end up being captive so that he wouldn't be able to inform Aang and Katara on the matter.

That following day, Aang and Katara were tasked with bending the water out of the geysers into the reserviors which both were completely blinded to what Jets true intentions had been until they came by the cliff edge. Katara was left confused as to why some of The Freedom Fighters had multitudes of barrel filled with blasted jelly undrneath the river, but Aang understood completely what it was Jet had intended for all along. A means to flood the town with the people in it once the dam had been blasted to pieces.

Finally, Aang and Katara had been able to put a stop Jet's plan by rendering him useless until he made the signal call to the light the fire in order to destroy the dam which flooded the town. Except for one simple thing that The Freedom Fighter had underestimated, and that had been Sokka who had been able to make it to the village in time and convince everyone of what was about to occur thanks to the old man from earlier who had vouched for his story. The Villagers were saved and Jet was left disgusted by Sokka by decreeing him as a traitor, but he refuted that Jet became the traitor when he stopped protecting the innocent. Aang and especially Katara left Jet in that frozen state as they road off on Appa with shear dissapointment over what had happened.

Sokka admits that his instincts are right and sometimes they are wrong. A valid point that was gven by Aang how he was about ttake them towards the opposite direction as he leads them off towards the correct way where their journey would continue onwards, but that brings an end to my highlights for Avatar The Last Airbender Episode 10. Catch you all again for my highlights on the next episode.