#{its interesting to see her interal thoughts despite her actions!}

[smolcuriouskitten]

My hands were burning and swollen from the seamstress job today. Of course I had to do alterations for a bridal party within a tight time constraint. I did it for the smiles on their faces, trying to ignore how badly my hands ached and burned.

I sat soaking my hands in some ice water, hoping to bring some feeling back into them. My mind began to race again about having to pay this stupid debt my ex husband caused me. Oh right, I forget, we are still legally married. Looking over at the freshly patched wall and window in my bedroom, I reminisce over the last few months.

Me, catching my husband in my bed cheating on me after disappearing for two years. Throwing him and whatever tramp he was with out of the window with them still in the bed. Throwing the clothing and other miscellaneous belongings out of the broken windows with them. Cursing and screaming at them in the middle of a busy street as they tried to fix themselves up, pedestrians and passerby were either filming or running away from the scene.

My landlord being rightfully pissed about the destroyed property and demanding I get it fixed. Another bill at the expense of a man I havent seen in two years. All because of my stupidity of not leaving first or realizing the signs sooner. Sure, I could call my dad and ask him to loan me some money but my pride wont let me. Everytime my siblings or father come over, I just close the door to my room and pretend the draft is from poor circulation in the apartment.

I finally paid the money to get the stupid window fixed, not even bothering to buy another bed. Why would I? All I would think about laying there is how much I loved my other bed before my stupid husband defiled it. That word left such a disgusting taste in my mouth. The man I married being a piece of shit was something I should have seen from a mile away.

His wondering eyes, his words that felt like silk, and all of those times he pushed me away in the name of being 'busy'. Always busy. Always fucking busy he was. Never had any time for me. Once the ring got on my damn finger, he forgot I existed. Then he had the nerve and audacity to come into my home and sleep with someone in my bed and give them a fantasy he knew damn well he couldnt fulfill. I hated him. I hated him so fucking much. This stupid ring and this stupid marriage I should have never done in the first place.

The doorbell rang, drowning out the mumbles of the television I paid no attention to. I wasnt expecting anything. I dry my hands off and go to the door, opening it to be face to face with the mail man. "Hi Ms. Simmonds. A certified letter for you." He says and I look at him confused. "Who is it from?" I look down at the letter and I gag at the name. Sebastian. Of course.

"Its from someone named Michaelis. I need your signature for this." He directs which I sign then take the letter, now more curious than angry. I thank him and shut the door before sitting down, tossing the letter on my coffee table. What in the hell is in this thing? A check for the damage of heartbreak and to fix the broken window? An apology letter? A letter saying he wants a divorce for what I did to him?

Part of me wanted to rip it up and throw it away. Part of me wanted to send a box of shit to the return address. Part of me wanted to open it to quiet my forever racing mind about this man that I grown to loathe. A sigh left my lips and I crack open the wax emblem that sealed the letter, opening it.

'Wedding Invitation.'

What? No. You cant be serious.

My eyes darted around on the page looking for a 'just kidding!' but none was to be found.

He cant be fucking serious. Sending a wedding invitation to your still *LEGALLY* married wife. Is this a humiliation ritual? Should I search for hidden cameras? This fucker cheats on me, in my bed, THEN SENDS ME THE DAMN WEDDING INVITATION?!

I could feel my magic pulsing around me like a dark cloud. It was alive and ready to strike something. I have to calm down before I burn a hole through this couch and floor and have another bill at this fuckers expense. What do I even do with this? Do I go? Do I not go? Do I cause a scene? Do I just quietly forge the signature to let him be an after thought?

No. No I cant risk the jail time. Im too pretty for that. I hate how I could practically live as another person with my magic but you can immediately tell whose the imposter by the handwriting. Ugh.

I dont want to be here.

Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to run and never look back.

The smiling faces made me viscerally angry. The decorations and the banners and the streamers and the air of joy in the air made me want to vomit. Our wedding didnt feel like this. He didnt go all out for our wedding.

He couldnt afford it, he kept saying. He wasnt interested in the 'frills of access' he kept saying. Yet here he is, in the most expensive wedding venue in the fucking state getting married to who knows who. I dont even bother to find out their name, it isnt important to me.

In this clutch purse, the only thing in it is the divorce papers and what little I have left of my sanity. I try to focus on my heels, ignoring the excited chatter of all of these people about the soon to be newly weds. I wanted to scream its all a lie and they are in on it, I wanted to tell them to run and not believe a word that this man said but I kept silent and to myself.

None of these people I knew or recognized. I never knew his family. Did they even know I existed? Or did he pawn me off as a live in maid? That former job title I wish I never had and thus never met him. Despite how angry I was, I kept silent and stayed poker faced. I have to sell this lie and I have to keep myself calm. If I dont, this can all blow up in my face.

Where is this bastard so I can get the signature and leave? I politely ask a staff member about the groom to which they say, 'Mr. Sebastian? Oh hes not here right now. The newly weds are flying in, so they will be here within the hour. They wanted to make a big entrance and utilize our helipad.'

Oh great. Leave him to pull out all the stops for this random person he slept with. A polite smile and nod before I sit in one of the empty chairs in the venue hall. I cant tell if I am happy for the new person or sorry for them. On one hand, everyone deserves to be happy, everyone except me it seems like but on the other, they might not know Sebastian is a wolf in sheeps clothing. His words will have you floating on a cloud of hopes and dreams just to drag you down to hell when he follows through on none of his promises. Maybe thats the demon way of doing things.

Begs the question on if the person is human or not. How did they meet intially? Who knows knowing Sebastian's sneaky ass. He probably picked someone who he knew would be stupid enough to put up with his antics. Kind of like me. The clueless doting wife, overly trusting of her husband why would she not trust him? Ick.

I cant even try to enjoy myself with how tight this stupid dress is. The bobby pins stabbing me in my head and this heavy makeup feels like a weight on my face. Why did I even bother getting all dolled up if he never looked at me when we were together? He never appreciated these moments of me taking time in my appearance. Why would he care now?

"Look at what the cat dragged in. My lovely wife." A voice called. I looked around for a brief moment, confused. Who in the hell would be calling me their wife? Dont tell me hes that bold to call me that while hes at his own damn wedding.

"Rockelle. I am talking to you." I turn around to see Sebastian. Standing there with his black suit and his black hair slicked away from his face. He always loved the color black. I grown to hate it. "...Hi darling." I chirp, trying to just swallow my anger for now.

"You look stunning. I would have never imagined you would look this good on my wedding day." The compliments fell on deaf ears. If I took a minute to analyze them, I would have screamed at him and burst out of my dress in anger. A sugary sweet smile covered my face as I run a hand along his arm. "I never would have imagined you would do all of this. Its very beautiful. The helicopter was a nice touch." Dont compliment him directly, dont feed his ego.

For a moment, his lip turned upward in possible irritation but he kept his cool. "Wheres your newly betrothed?" I ask, trying to direct attention away from me and onto his new lover. My hand didnt leave his arm, batting my lashes and keeping the cavity enducing smile on my face. "Oh they are around. Listen. Rockelle. I...I have a confession to make. About us. About them."

Oh no.

"I...I realized how much I lost when I left you. They love all of the flashier things and I cant do it. I loved how you were always so accepting of being modest. You appreciated the motive behind things rather than the gesture. You...You took good care of me and I took you for granted." He kept eye contact as he poured what sorry excuse of a heart he had left to me. What if he sent that invitation as a way to get my attention for him to apologize for his wrong doing?

He kept going. Going on about how hes so sorry about our anniversary. How hes so sorry that he never paid attention to my intrests. How hes so sorry he didnt take his lover to a hotel instead of our home. Yes, the home he felt entitled to break into to sleep with someone. He didnt even bother to apologize for the disappearance of two years. Him leaving after the argument on our anniversary all those years ago. He didnt bother to explain his motive for even going through with the current marriage, almost as if he forgot my existance once again until his new partner ran his pockets dry.

He wanted me again because I was easy. He wanted me again because he knew I was okay with being hidden. He knew my trauma. He knew where to hit my sensitive points and this was one of them. Abandonment for another. Cheating. Infidelity. And yet here he was, trying to use those same silky words that used to get me hook line and sinker. He thought he could play me like an idiot and a short hand fiddle.

You would think I would blow this plan to high hell after I realize this. I didnt. I needed that fucking signature. So what did I do?

"Oh Sebastian. I knew I was wrong about you. You always loved me. I love you so much too. I missed you so much. You are the man of my dreams and you have done so much for me. I just have to ask you to do this one thing for me before I can agree to anything...And I know it isnt a simple task." I put on my sweetest possible voice, pulling him into an embrace and looking up at him through my lashes.

He watched my movements closely. His face practically lit up with the possibility of us being together again. He looked like a puppy waiting on a treat. "Yes. Anything, what is it?" He asked on baited breath and I open my purse to hand him the divorce papers. "Please...Sign these for me. I know we agreed to work things out...But I am standing at your wedding after all. I know your new partner will want to finalize the paperwork...And it would be such a shame for them to hear you are still attatched to your past lover." Once again, not breaking eye contact with him. He practically snatched the papers out of my hand and signed them, right on the guestbook table.

"I am so happy to have you back in my life Sebastian. Call me once all of this is done." I purr in his ear, pressing a kiss to his forehead, leaving my lipstick behind for his partner to find as I gently take the paper from him. I could almost vomit to think about having this man near me ever again. It felt unclean. It was clear where his head was and it wasnt with me. He followed his other head and look at where it lead him.

I promptly leave the venue, spotting a glimpse of his partner watching the interaction from afar. They called after me but their attire made it impossible to follow. I paid no mind or attention, even flipping my hair as a subtle 'fuck you' to them. I dont want that sorry excuse of a man. I dont want to be near him ever again. You took the trash and now you can fucking keep it.

I speed off, far away from the venue. I dont bother to answer the calls to my phone after the event was up. I changed my number and changed the locks on my door. I didnt want to hear from Sebastian ever again. Luckily my lease is almost up, so I can move out soon.

I got drunk. I didnt want to even remember this night at all. How I had to look the enemy in the face, poking the bear and leaving unscathed. He ruined his own life at my expense and I am glad I didnt let him do it again. After my 30th bottle of wine, damn magic making it impossible to feel anything, this night was a blur. I remember dragging myself to my recording studio, practically screaming into the mic about how I saw him walk down the aisle. How I lost my one and only lover.

The wine bottle still in my hand, my dress half off of me, my hair falling down like a crumbling tower, I looked a disheveled mess. I didnt care. I felt free. And thats all I could ask for.

[beehunterkisser]

Have you watched the season 2 premieres of Hamster and Gretel?

I HAVE!!! Im assuming you want to know what i thought of em so spoiler warning for any dwampyheads who havent watched it yet. LOOK OUT!!!! also this is long as hell so be careful

Hakuna Ma Kevin

ok first and foremost. the ANIMATION WAS INCREDIBLE I WAS SO SHOCKED.. The budget mustve been crazy everything was so smooth. It really impressed me.. especially the action scenes and the hair movements. it was all super good

his va did a great job of being like annoyingly calm. its so kevin to somehow take a relaxation camp way too seriously (also the fact his life was so ruined by his date with hiromi flopping that he had to go on a 2 week retreat to find inner peace).

i was actually really interested in how they were gonna tackle that but a timeskip makes sense.

skip past kevins initial extreme misery and leave it up for the audience to make up. i am still curious as to what his friendgroup looks like because. did thjey stop hanging out. ARE hiromi and kevin too awkward to see eachother. anthony and fred are children of divorce. its so sad. well we'll see what happened eventually

It was great to see veronica hill back again too i missed my queen. i hope she finds love on the open sea.

actually speaking of that i was so sure that that was gonna be the boat from that sinking feeling and it was going to change the trajectory of the dwampyverse timeline forever but i think that was just a tease or a really really vague reference

the villain was also incredibly funny. great voicework too im sure it was some guest voice or something that i just dont recognize because it just feels that way to me.

great guy hope he comes back. and the reocurring THERE ARE NO LAWS ON INTERATIONAL WATERS BABY was actually funny.

also i cant not mention the CANON DWAMPYVERSE LESBIANS were BACK BABY women FIND EACHOTHER AT CLAM FEASTS ITS REAL AND TRUE.

it really made me happy to see that especially since i was so positive that we werent gonne get any rep from dwampyverse but obviously im WRONG and there are 2 beautiful women loving eachother and eating clams out there.

he played it so cool too. an ally.

I was almost disappointed the song was so early because i wanted a dramatic clam musical number but thats literally minimal complaint i have about that episode because it was such a strong opener.

also congrats to the newlyweds lunchlady and piano key vendor i think they will have a long lasting and beautiful relationship.

also when i saw those 2 old man leaving i was like wow are we getting a double whammy with gays but that was just a cameo. next time though

The Great American Telenovella

THE RETURN OF MY QUEEN. the opening in the hospital made me think it was gonna go in a completely different direction.

Both of these episodes had the songs super early on interestingly enough. i didnt even realise the Fresas De Amor theme song was THE song of the episode. i thought it was just a jingle..

i was really happy that we got a carolina-centered (well a stretch but she was there a lot) episode. i really like her.

the animation was back to normal in this episode too which was a little sad and maybe skewed my opinion of the episode a little bit but not TOO much. i think.

despite being tricked on where the episode was going the gimmick with making fun of telenovella tropes was really really fun.

it felt almost like a rarity investigates type thing where they get really into character trope LOL

the first lady they interrogated (THE VILLAIN IS THE VILLAIN!!) had such a great design too i really like her.. the whole bit with her abandoning the show to become a taco crunchies commercial star was great too she gagged me.

and also her being like ok ill just sit here and watch all my personal belongings burn. I giggled..i cant lie..i did giggle a little...

ok i cannot dance around it any longer but THE RETURN OF LA CEBOLLA. I REALLY DIDNT THINK ITD BE THIS EARLY I WAS SO HAPPY.

i saw her in the back as the lunchlady and i knew everything was going to be ok.. I was safe in her hands..

also her powers were used super clever i really enjoyed the Onion Fists. and also the dramatic shot of hamster getting concussed by an onion.

this kind of goes back to me being shocked the telenovella intro was the episodes song because i was really hoping we'd get another la cebolla number akin to fighting facial hair again

i also get another shot of her lying in a hospital bed. the one from her song is literally one of my favourite pictures ever so its great to have another equally as bizarre one

shes definitely maybe my FAVOURITE hng villain so it was great to see her again.

im biased so i wished she had gotten more time to shine but also i think that entire scene with hamster pretending to be her son la cebollito.

it was really funny karina did great with the line delivery there. i loved how she was like But why are you so small!??!?!?! i love that she runs on telenovella logic. a true method actor

i really did enjoy that episode but hakuna ma kevin really felt like the stronger episode to me maybe SOLEY because of the animation. im an artist im easily pleased. they cant just tease me with god tier animated hng and then rip it from my hands as soon as i get it. its ok...ill get over it..ill forget it soon... (single tear falls from my eye)

I HOPE THAT WAS READABLE i might do more of these for the rest of the episodes as they release its actually really fun. we;re so back. hng season 2 Is already peak. Its my favourite dwampy show for a reason. i am hng strongest warrior. WERE SO BACK

[tribow]

I'm about a week and a half into Violet Detector. I'm so bad at teleporting.

Anyway, I'd like to just talk about Sumireko a bit. Back in Urban Legend in Limbo she was cocky. She had this superiority complex and thinks she's hot shit, but she gets a big reality check from Gensokyo. (Which is kinda funny considering Gensokyo is literally Fantasy world). When playing through Sumireko's story, she's running from one youkai to the next. She's "winning" the fights, but none of the opponents (besides Shinmyoumaru, ya hate to see it) seem to actually lose since she has to run away from them. The goal is to scare her after all, not actually kill her. (Side note: Losing to Shimmy implies that she's actually going to kill Sumireko, which is very funny)

By the end of all of it she's able to briefly escape back to the Outside World, but it's temporary. She will be pulled back in and as far as she knows, one of those youkai might actually kill her (she doesn't know Reimu was going to protect her once she gets pulled back).

Now that she knows she has no control over the situation she decides to go nuclear. She'll unleash the full power occult balls to become the literal key to Gensokyo's barrier. She has fully resigned herself to her death by youkai, but she will at least have achieved her goal.

Perhaps she was lost in her own theatrics, but Sumireko gave up here. If the situation played out like she thought it would, she would have achieved her goal without seeing it through. Her cocky attitude was gone. She didn't refer to herself as some important girl with psychic magical powers. She's just some highschool girl who was way in over her head.

I go over all this because it's a bit clear through her own actions that despite how she presents herself to others, Sumireko does not place herself as important. Her superiority complex is a complete front. Its a display of what she wants to be, but she doesn't believe she can be it. This is a trope that chuunibyou characters tend to have, but Sumireko's case is an interesting one. She is a special person, those esper powers are legit. Her delusions aren't necessarily fake, but to the rest of the world around her, it is.

That's her real issue, she's just a lonely kid. She tries to use her experiences in Gensokyo for clout, but it's an unsatisfying endeavor. Clout doesn't necessarily net you any friends or close relationships. Plus, it's not like anyone is going to believe her. As far as the Outside World is concerned, Gensokyo isn't real. Luckily for her, she has been able to become friends with several of Gensokyo's residents. She may not belong in Gensokyo, but the people there accept her and appreciate her for who she is.

So, this all comes to a head in Violet Detector. The events of this game (so far) are very reminiscent to her chapter in Urban Legend in Limbo. She's stuck in the dream world and everyone is attacking her. It's like she's fighting for her life all over again. To make it worse, Doremy tells her that it doesn't matter if she ends up dying in the Dream World since Sumireko's dream self will just wake up in the real world and it will be as if nothing happened.

Sumireko is functionally worthless in the dream world. Her death would serve nothing. Yet, when faced with a reality where she holds no value, Sumireko gets motivated. She resolves to fight back.

This is not the Sumireko from Urban Legend in Limbo that would have just let life run its course on her. Her self confidence isn't a front, she is earnestly deciding to struggle against the odds with her own power.

I really appreciate this character development. Gensokyo was harsh to her at first, but it showed her the value that she has in the world around her. Sumireko is something to fight for.

Well, that's enough rambling about Sumireko. I haven't even beat the game so I don't know how this ends. I just like her dialogue with Doremy and wanted to talk about it. Sumireko's perspective on Gensokyo (and the Dream World) is very interesting.

[kachuuyaa]

IITSOK UHM ALBEDO!READER X KARMA AKABANE THEN (?

a/n: well u did something!!! Its not entirely right but i appreciate it nonetheless IWERUELOELO

1 yr link!

ALBEDO!READER X KARMA AKABANE

Class 3-E. Seriously, how did you get into class 3-E? You were incredibly popular among the students of Kunugigaoka High School, especially with the big 5. You were known as a genius in chemistry and biology and your superb talent in art. So-- why? The students would not like another incredibly proper student’s behavior to be tarnished upon entering Class 3-E. You were not that sporty, yet held a talent for swordsmanship, something you kept a secret from the academy for a long time, before finding out via your data folder. You always walk past the students in the main school building with no interest in their conversations, even though you can hear most of them screaming your name. Asano didn’t like how you rose to fame incredibly fast, the main reason being your astounding grades and ‘magic tricks’, as he like to call it. (it was simply biology, you didn’t get how he was annoyed with you).

The reason you crash-landed yourself into 3-E was something you were not keen to disclose. Only the headmaster, Mr. Karasuma, Koro-sensei, and Ms. Irina know why you were sent into 3-E. The students made quite a fuss about this, as well. You were quite annoyed by it, having thought of effectively shutting them up, though, you did not want to get suspended. The problems of others are not their problems, just meddling with the difficulties of others was enough to create tons of other messes that are too much to handle. 

Well, the reason why you’re in Class 3-E right now is due to one of the more complex experiments that you have designed, with the help of your close friend. She tries to talk to you every so often, but with your current position, it was proven futile. She avoids you during class hours, afraid that it may tarnish her (already) student reputation. You try your hardest to take care of this child you deem as your ‘younger sister figure’, and in turn, she introduces you to her friends as her older sibling. It leaves a warm feeling in your chest. You don’t miss the pitiful gazes she threw at you during the assembly, yet you brushed it off, ignoring her stares and the students’ mumblings, which you found out were about you and the class, and your association with them. (“I’m so sad that [Name]’s with them! They didn’t do anything wrong!”, “So [Name]’s part of 3-E now? Guess we can take out our anger on a stuck-up bitch!” and so on). 

Karma Akabane was an incredible combatant, that he knew. Although seeing Kunugigaoka’s prized possession (next to the gifted 5, maybe he thinks you’re higher than that) maneuver their way gracefully across the field, next to awe-filled students, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. There was simply something incredibly captivating about you. You chose to use a simple baton as a makeshift sword rather than pellet guns to strike Mr. Korosensei, he was shocked at your movements, and so was Karma. He watched as you impaled the ground with your baton, and struck the alienesque teacher, albeit too slowly. What he didn’t expect, was the residue of the dirt stuck at the end of your baton to form into sharp, small splinters. And that simple action made Akabane all the more interested, especially after seeing your smug smirk at Mr. Korosensei’s reaction. 

Your biggest interest was not creating friendships, despite the numerous attempts to, yet you entertained them for a while. Especially with the art that you created. What caught your attention the most was Mr. Korosensei. Akabane and Nagisa couldn’t miss the curiosity swirling in your eyes when he talks, and more so when he evades class 3-E’s attacks so easily.

Karma couldn’t let it go. He teased you for it endlessly. You simply didn’t mind it and indulged in his teasings, letting a statement slip past your lips every once in a while. Obviously, when exam season came, you scribbled on the paper with no interest, despite the questions being altered to make the class suffer even more. Surprising the majority at your nonchalant behavior, when they felt they were being dragged by the devil himself to fight Cerberus. It was not that shocking to find the results of your tests, either. Almost all perfect, while you paid no mind to it. It was simply the usual, anyway. None of it interested you in any aspect. 

During the field trip, that’s when he knew he was truly captivated by you. Curiosity, perhaps? Maybe he just wants to know you better. Yeah, that. Reminded of how you easily, skillfully weaved through the attacks of the school delinquents to save your classmates, even threatening them with a voice so monotone it could kill, okay, maybe it’s not just curiosity. Without the help of others, you effortlessly took them down with-- again, another makeshift sword you found on the pavement, which was a discarded umbrella. Your footwork was incredibly precise and smooth that he thinks you predicted their attacks. And when Mr. Korosensei heard of this, he rewarded you with a single room for your peace and quiet. You were incredibly grateful, as the students’ chattering would disturb you from sleeping. But when a knock came on your door you opened it, seeing Yukiko. She shyly asked you if you are interested in their late-night conversations, and albeit hesitantly, you complied. It was a field trip, after all. You set aside your pettiness for a bit and indulged in their questions.

They figured out you have no interest and no experience in having a partner or love. You go back to sleep with a content smile on your face.

The time where the bond between you and Karma became stronger was directly after the field trip, it was probably after you saved those two girls. Interested, you handed him your affection and your attraction. It was something that you thought you cannot remove your interest from. He will interest you forevermore, your heart, and your brain. Karma did not know it would go this far. Sure, he knows you have admirers back in the main building, but for you to take a liking to someone like him? He was left dumbfounded. He let his guard down, being more open, and showing that he truly cares for you despite all that’s happened. A seemingly aggressive, violent redhead would do so much for the chemist that maneuvered their way through his heart. What he won’t tell anyone, though, was their reactions to Mr. Korosensei’s death. That was sealed in their minds alone. However, you introduced him to your sister, Klee, and she was overjoyed at how his appearance was. Even showing him a silly drawing she’s made for the both of you, leaving Karma chuckling and ruffling her head due to her antics. That made you smile, someone, other than Klee, was able to make your heart palpitate with emotion so foreign to you.

[cv-nobody-and-associates]

Nobody Wants to Know

Part II - Oira

“This is it.” I said, putting on my gauntlets. The cold metallic sensation helped to ground me, but it wasn’t enough to completely cease the shaking in my limbs. I couldn’t escape the uncertainty of what were about to do. But no matter how much it terrified me, I had to do it.

Either I would die, or I would finally get answers.

“You sure about this?” Wib asked. It was nice for us to be working together again instead of trying to kill each other, which was far more common. The two of us started as close friends, maybe more if I was to be honest, but it didn’t last. They turned out to be something called a Blockhead, which meant I had to destroy them. That was how I came to Creatorverse.

But then it turned out things weren’t that simple.

Wib didn’t really die. It turned out that we were somehow connected, meaning that neither of us could truly perish whilst the other continued to exist. We met up a few times after that, at first fighting, but it wasn’t long before we started talking again. We both knew something was up, and according to Wib it was connected to some people named Mori and Anis, both exiles of Creatorverse who had been plotting their revenge ever since.

I didn’t pretend I knew much about what was going on, but I knew I needed answers. And they were our only chance. Reluctantly, Wib had agreed to join on the search. Before, they had been working undercover on the side of the enemy, but we both knew that we needed each other for this.

“I’m sure.” I nodded. “We don’t have any other choice. I think it’s fair to say we both know that, huh?” Wib clenched their fist.

“Shut it.” They spat. “You’ve always had more choice than I ever did. You weren’t stolen, you weren’t manipulated, you weren’t twisted into their damn weapon-”

“Wib.” I stopped them short. “I don’t know what they did to me. Without the answers, and without my memories, we can’t be sure who had it worse. So how about we skip the angsty yelling and get our butts in gear.”

“Of course. You don’t remember, so you don’t care.”

“Do we really have to do this now? We have more important things to do right now.”

“Fine.” Wib agreed. “You’re right. We’ll worry about all this later.” They smirked, and for a moment everything was as peaceful as it was before I had come to Creatorverse.

Then the newcomer arrived.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” A woman’s voice infiltrated our current hideout, an underground space we had hidden from the rest of the city. It was simultaneously recognisable and completely unfamiliar. “Some remarkable plot-driven revelation? No, it’s too early for that. Perhaps some inter-personal conflict?”

“Nobody, what’s going on?” Wib demanded, getting into a guarded combat-ready stance. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“N-no!” I said. “I swear, I have no idea-”

“I’m sorry, I think they were asking me.” The voice answered, and suddenly a figure appeared from the shadows.

“Y…you’re… me?” I asked, stunned. The figure looked almost identical to myself. Maybe a little taller, and definitely lacking my Siphon Gauntlets and boots, but otherwise the question-mark figure standing before us looked identical to myself.

“In a sense.” My doppelganger answered lazily, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s more accurate to say that you are me. Or rather, a version of me. Though I suspect an intricate explanation of the inner working of the multiverse and how this world is informed by my actions would be beyond you.”

“Are you saying you created this world?” Wib asked, seemingly much more capable of rational thought than I was. I had no idea how I could tell, but my doppelganger smiled at them.

“Ah, of course. You’re the other one. Wib, right?” She turned to face them. “A fantasy I made to explain my lack of answers. A manifestation of my struggles as an antagonist, but one I – or rather, the other me – would learn to accept, leading to the grand revelation where we would finally understand ourself. Makes sense that you would catch on quick. You are correct, if you haven’t guessed. This world is a creation of mine. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” I asked. I felt compelled to draw my sword. None of this was making sense, and it seemed that yet again the only way of getting any sensible answers would be forcing them out. Or so I felt.

“This world is a manifestation of my story, but still its own world.” The doppelganger explained. “In short, I told a story, and the multiverse adapted that story to its own reality. It has been following my design like a script, but I did not make the set or hire the actors.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Wib asked, and I nodded with them. My doppelganger drew her own sword, and we both braced for what seemed to be an inevitable fight.

“I need answers.” She said. “This world contains secrets from my mind, words I could not speak but I suspect leaked out into the page. That is why we are not the same being, Nobody, despite being the same person.”

“Lemme guess – we don’t know these secrets you want either, but you think you’ll find the truth in battle?” I asked, raising my blade to guard. My doppelganger sighed.

“This world is built on the idea of violent conflict. I suppose I should follow the same rules of everyone else.”

She charged forth at me, thrusting her blade towards my head.

“And force the answers out of you!”

---

The doppelganger’s speed was incredible, and I could barely manage to pull my arm up to block their blade with my own, grunting at the sheer impact of the blade. Wib jumped back and moved to position themself behind the doppelganger, waiting for an opening.

I hoped they would find one soon.

“A simple duel of blades then?” The doppelganger said through a non-existent set of gritted teeth. “That’s not going to tell me much. Show me what you can really do!” She punctuated her words with a slash that pushed past my defences and had me slammed into the wall.

“Take this!” Wib came from behind the doppelganger, holding what appeared to be a small dagger with a green blade and gold handle. The doppelganger seemed amused as they effortlessly dodged, sending Wib charging straight me.

“Barrier, CREATE!” I yelled, pulling forth my CREATE button at the last moment. The sheer force was still enough to destroy the wall behind me, but a small barrier in front of me prevented Wib’s blade from striking me. My doppelganger seemed excited to see it, something that had me shivering.

“Yes, the button.” She said, producing a CREATE button identical to my own. She held it floating above her hand. “I’ve always wondered something about it. Can you guess?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Wib protested, even though my doppelganger had raised an interesting question. “We don’t have time to entertain these questions. We gotta take her out, then Mori!”

“It’s the letter, right?” I answered my doppelganger’s question. If it were possible for her to have grinned, I could feel she would have done so. Wib meanwhile rolled their eyes at me, yet uncharacteristically restrained themselves from a remark or attack.

“Yes, yes! I knew you would catch on eventually, you’re me after all!” She walked forth, and I couldn’t help but move back and raise my sword once again, anticipating another attack. “The letter. Almost every button I – even every one we have ever seen; they all say the word CREATE in them. All but ours. We have only the first letter. It’s almost like…”

“Like it’s incomplete.” I said. If I possessed eyes, they no doubt would have widened. My face became an exclamation mark to match my surprise. “Or like it’s just a copy of the real thing! Something we weren’t meant to have, but got anyway!” I didn’t understand even half of what I was saying, but the doppelganger seemed to. I swear I could feel their own interest as though I was the one experiencing it. I supposed it must have been because we were sort of the same person.

Idly, I wondered if I’d get to ask for the details on that.

“A copy. Yes, that sounds right. But why?” My doppelganger asked herself. “It must have something to do with one of the figures from the fog. The humanoid one. Yes, I can feel it. Like some sort of awakening.” She charged forth without warning.

“I need to know more! What else can I learn from you two?!” I blocked another sword slash and tried to counter it with my own, but it failed to have any effect. I glanced over to where Wib was standing before only to find them absent.

“Wib-?”

“Right here!”

“Argh!” My doppelganger screamed as Wib pulled her away from me, grabbing her. “You think you can hold me? How amusing!”

“I’m not gonna be holding you for long.” I heard the voice of Wib come from a second body, and turned to see that they had made a duplicate of themself. I always forgot they could do that, and was glad to see it was being used on someone other than myself.

Sort of. This doppelganger thing was confusing.

The Wib copy kicked the doppelganger at full force right as the original released her, and the result was her flying through the roof. I could see sunlight from the city pouring through the hole she had left.

“We have to make sure she’s down.” I said. I held put my hand and grabbed one of the Wibs. It honestly didn’t matter which body flew me up.

“You sure? We’ll be exposed. That’s going to make what happens next difficult. Plus, you’re a Creator working with a Blockhead. It’s a huge risk.”

“It’s even more of a risk to let her loose!” I cried out. “What if she hunts down someone else for answers? I can’t let her hurt my friends up there!” Wib hesitated, before grunting.

“Fine.” They said. One of their bodies fused with the one I was holding, and together we flew out into the city. The sun was high up in the sky, and for once the city was mostly undisturbed, save for the large hole in the road left as a result of knocking my doppelganger away.

“You’re strong.” I turned, hovering in the air as I released Wib who did the same. My doppelganger still lived, and instead of sounding pained she seemed more amused than anything. “But not nearly strong enough.”

“We need to run!” Wib called out, already flying away before I could respond. I followed, hoping that the doppelganger would do the same. Destroying the city was probably something worth avoiding.

“Are you sure this’ll work?” I asked Wib.

“She’s only after us as far as I can tell.” Wib reasoned. “She might attack anyone in her way, but I think-” I didn’t let them finish, doubling back. The thought of the doppelganger hurting any of my friends was dreadful, and I refused to let it happen.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

I stopped, both because I had reached the doppelganger and because I had just heard a mysterious voice in my head. If it wasn’t for the sight before me I would have stopped to listen to it. Unfortunately, I was more occupied by what I saw.

She was slaughtering people.

The city was already in shambles, buildings falling to rubble and collapsing as flames surrounded the area. Bloody bodies littered the floors, many far too close to the fire and stuck under rubble. The doppelganger looked to me and I felt a chill run up my spine.

“I heard someone.” She said. “As soon as I started this little exercise in attention.” I clenched my fists and screamed, charging towards her at full force. Our blades met harshly and the ringing sound of metal pierced the air.

“Attention?! THESE PEOPLE ARE DEAD!” I cried, forcing her back with all my strength. She skidded on the ground.

“Oh, you think I care. That’s adorable!” She said, before appearing behind me. It was so fast I barely saw her move, but I heard the rush of wind. I went to block but couldn’t stop myself from being knocked away into a building.

“These worlds? These people? They don’t matter!” She said. Something was different in her tone though. She sounded less sure of herself.

“She can hear me. What about you?”

“Who…?” I groaned out, trying to pry myself out of the rubble I had been forced into. The voice stopped me.

“Don’t move. Not yet. She can feel me, but you can actually hear me.” I gave the smallest of nods.

“Nothing matters! Nothing in this meaningless existence matters!” She was starting to sound incoherent, and I wondered if even she knew what she was saying.

“She’s rambling. That’s good. Well, not for her but one problem at a time.”

“Are you a friend of hers?” I asked.

“I owe her my life, but she doesn’t know that anymore. The three of us lost a lot of our memories.”

“Three? Who else is with her?” I asked the voice. I could tell that she – somehow, I could feel the voice was a she – was somehow connected to the other Nobody. Based on how she was talking, it seemed she was in her head, but I knew it went deeper than that.

“Me and V. But they’d only make things worse. I need you to tell her my name.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way she’ll understand. She’s losing track of who she it, what she is. I can remind her.”

“Okay…” I finally pulled myself to my feet, and my doppelganger turned to take notice. “What’s your name?” I asked the voice as the other Nobody approached. She told me right as my doppelganger grabbed me by the throat and pulled me off the ground.

“O-OIRA!” I cried, and suddenly her grip loosened. Her sword clattered to the ground and she clutched her head.

“Oira. That was her name, right?” I had to keep talking, because whatever she was remembering was stopping her in her tracks. “You saved her. A long time ago.”

“T-the tests…” She muttered, falling to her knees. “Needles, hands, too much. Far too much. She hated it. Wanted it to end. Wanted everything to end.” I recalled something we had said to each other earlier, as the doppelganger seemed to hiss in apparent pain.

I felt bad for her, despite our current surroundings.

“The tests were about the button, right?” I asked, hesitantly stepping closer. Her head went down for a moment, and it was a moment longer before I realised she was trying to nod. “They wanted to do something with it. What did they do?”

“They…” The doppelganger let out a groan of pain between words. Her face appeared to be shifting somehow. One moment it was a question mark like my own, the next it flickered to what appeared to be a musical note. “They wanted to make life. Shapeshifting. Genetics work. That was the key, they thought. It hurt. She didn’t want to hurt. I…I couldn’t let her hurt.”

“Why not?”

“What does it matter?!” She hissed. “It doesn’t matter who I strike down, or why, I’m just a weapon! I wasn’t helping her, I was just saving myself…” Her form seemed to be shifting, almost like she was struggling to maintain control.

“You don’t really believe that, do you?” That was all it took for the last of her resolve to crumble. She raised her head to the sky and screamed.

“SHUT UP!” She cried. “AND GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”

There was a blinding flash of light, and then everything went dark.

---

When I awoke, I briefly considered that everything I had just been through was a dream. The city that was once covered in flame was now repaired. No, more than repaired, it was as though it had never been damaged in the first place. As for the people, there were no more corpses. Some were still injured, but most seemed to have been restored just as the city had.

“Hey you, you’re finally awake.” I saw Wib grinning at me, offering a hand which I gratefully took to pull myself up.

“You did not just say that.” I groaned, amused. “I swear, if you try to get me to join the Stormcloaks I’m outta here.” Wib chuckled.

“Nah, you know I was always more of an Imperial type.” They replied, before his expression turned more serious. “Jokes aside, what do you think about our new guest?” They pointed a thumb back to what appeared to be a tall woman, slightly shorter than my doppelganger. She was still all black like her – and myself, I supposed – but in place of a top hat, she had a beanie. She also appeared to be wearing a kind of dress. Or maybe it was just another layer of her body? It was the same pitch black as the rest of her, after all.

Her face and chest both had a musical note symbol instead of a question mark. Similar symbols appeared on her hands and feet as well, though slightly different. Her face and chest appeared to be double notes, whilst the ones on her hands and feet.

“Uh, I don’t know what those things are.” She said. Her voice sounded similar to mine and the doppelgangers, but different somehow. Softer, I supposed. “But I don’t think it matters.”

“Oira, I presume?” She nodded, and Wib raised an eyebrow at me. I made a dismissive gesture with my hand, and they rolled their eyes and crossed their arms. I knew I’d have to explain later. “What happened to… you know, the other one…” I was reluctant to use her name.

“Nobody? She’s been…turned off? Disabled? Knocked out?” Oira seemed to struggle to find the right words to describe what exactly had happened. “It’s hard to explain. Nothing about us really makes complete sense. But I suppose with her unavailable, I took back control of the body.”

“Took back?” Wib interjected. “Was the body originally yours?” Oira scratched at her head in response for a moment.

“Yes and no?” She answered. “The body is a new one, but it was built using mine as a genetic base. My body was already…malleable enough for it from the tests.” She hesitated for a moment. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“I understand.” Wib said, with surprising compassion in their voice. “People can do horrible things in the name of some twisted form of progress…” Oira nodded.

“When I took control, it created a burst of energy.” Oira explained. “That energy mostly reset things back to how they should be, before she appeared. I don’t know the full details. The reality warping is her thing for the most part.”

“What about the injured people still here?” I asked. “Why Didn’t they fully restore?” Oira simply shrugged in response.

“I guess the energy expelled wasn’t enough? Like I said, I don’t know how this works.” She sighed for a moment. “I know you probably have more questions, but I don’t have time. You see, she won’t stay inactive for long. And now that I’m awake, it isn’t long before V follows. And trust me, no matter how bad you think she is, V’s worse.”

“How bad we think she is? She murdered innocent people to get attention.” I said, annoyed. Oira didn’t have a typical face, but I could still feel a sort of fury in her expression regardless.

“She’s done bad things, but she’s done just as much good. You’ve just never seen it before.” She explained indignantly. “Besides, this is a Scripted world. She knew that when she left, things would reset back to normal.”

I prepared to respond to that, but she kept going before I could.

“I don’t expect you to understand her, nor do I expect you’ll forgive her just because of what I say. Best I can ask for?” She paused as something that appeared to be a portal appeared behind her, which she turned to.

“Forget this ever happened.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” I said. She laughed for a moment.

“Don’t worry. We won’t be coming back anyway.”

END

AN - Finally done! This was meant to be done months ago, but stuff happened and I'm bad at time management. At last, the first of the beings within Nobody is revealed! I plan on sharing more Oira stuff in the near future, but hopefully you understand a little bit about her now. I forgot to get to it in the chapter itself, but her CREATE button is different to Nobody's.

This whole chapter was set in the world of an old CV fanfic I wrote on my main blog, @lordterronus . It's called Creatorverse: Self Indulgent Stories, and it's quite outdated but I still enjoy thinking about it from time to time. This chapter was a chance to show a bit more of what I had originally planned for that story, but never actually did. If anyone wants to ask any more about it, I'm happy to answer anything regarding it on my main blog!

[husheduphistory]

Dedicated to Death: The End Experiment of Thomas Bradford

When the Fox sisters of Hydesville, New York claimed they contacted the spirit of a murdered peddler in 1848 the ears of the entire country listened. Suddenly there was hope that those who passed away were not truly gone and people from all over began to scramble to find ways to communicate with the dead. Later, with the horrors of the Civil War tearing the country and families apart people looked to Spiritualism and any way possible to find answers from beyond. Hundreds of thousands never came home, countless numbers were never found and the need for closure and communication drove people into the parlors and palms of people claiming they could be their much-needed bridge to the other side.  As many people that believed in life after death, there were just as many who refuted it and the divide grew. As time moved on the division deepened with both sides seeking the ultimate proof that death was, or was not, the end. It is an argument that is still actively debated to this day.

Prof. Thomas Lynn Bradford was a man of many ventures. A one-time electrical engineer, athlete, and actor, by 1920 he had begun studying and lecturing about the occult with a particular focus on the afterlife. The world had now suffered through World War I and people’s spirituality was again feeling highly tested. Bradford was a man of sound mind, but his headspace became more and more filled with his thoughts on life after death and how to prove it. He wrote “…all phenomena are outside the domain of the supernatural." He wanted to prove his theories using scientific fact, but he knew he could not do it alone.

Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford.

In the early part of 1921 Bradford placed an ad in a local Detroit newspaper under the name “Professor Flynn” and stated that he was seeking “someone interested in spiritualistic science.” It was a strange ad, which was exactly why it caught the attention of prominent Detroit native Ruth Starkweather Doran. Doran was not a firm believer in Spiritualism. But, she was an avid researcher and was intrigued with the opportunity to learn about a field so unfamiliar to her. On a whim, she responded to the ad and before long she and Bradford began meeting face to face.

The experiment Bradford presented to Doran would have sent most people running, but for reasons unknown, she stuck with the plan. Before their last meeting on February 5th 1921 Bradford finished typing his latest manuscript and laid it neatly next to his typewriter. There was much to do and once Doran arrived the details were ironed out about how he would contact her when his half of the experiment was complete and how they would then reunite. The deal was made. They bid each other farewell and Bradford shut the door of his rented room. He knew he would not be disturbed, he already informed his landlord, a Mr. Marcotte, that if anyone were to call for him to tell them he was out and would not be back until very late. He turned on his heater. blew out the pilot light, turned up the gas, and laid down in bed until the fumes took his life.

The fact that Bradford killed himself in pursuit of answers about life after death may not have come as a shock to some of his friends. It was later reported that the occult interested him more than anything in the physical world. At one point he told Mr. Marcotte, “When I die my body goes to science. It is to be sent to the Michigan Medical Institute. Anyhow, my body does not amount to much.”

When Bradford’s body was discovered by Marcotte the next day the gas was still pouring from his heater. Upon investigation police found his typewriter, with one final note never removed, “And it is through scientific facts that I propose to demonstrate clearly the phenomena of spirits and prove that all the phenomena is outside the domain of super-natural.” Baffled by the suicide, the Detroit Police Department began to look for an explanation, and the dots quickly led to Doran who escaped any legal action by claiming they had met and discussed proving the afterlife but that she did not know he was planning to kill himself that night. Now, with his lifeless body laying in his home the first part of Bradford’s plan was complete. The second part relied on reconnecting with Doran to prove there was life after death. The self-proclaimed skeptic agreed to go through with it. “I am his friend.” Doran said, “If he can cause his spirit to come back to earth I believe his spirit will come to me first.”

Newspaper headline about Bradford’s suicide.

In the days following Bradford’s suicide the eyes of the Spiritualism world were firmly fixed on Doran’s parlor where she was hosting multiple vigils waiting for her friend to reach out and make contact. Throughout the entire process though, Doran made it a point that she was not a psychic, saying that she was simply a human being there to serve as a middleman and prove Bradford’s theories. She and the intrigued masses patiently waited night after night for a connection, but the hours moved on quietly with Doran only stating at one point that she felt a “strange sensation”.

Doran and the spiritualists were not the only one wanting to hear from Bradford. Multiple newspapers waited eagerly for word, running headlines updating the masses with the New York Times reporting, “Dead Spiritualist Silent” two days after the suicide. It was a few days into a planned two week long vigil that there was finally something to report, but it was not from Doran. A woman named Lulu Mack came forward stating that during a visit with a medium she heard a voice calling the name “Thomas Bradford”, a name she claimed was totally unfamiliar to her at the time. She told reporters that Bradford could not communicate very well because his suicide made him weak, suspending him before he could fully pass on to the next realm. “Life has fled from the body of Thomas Lynn Bradford but his spirit is hovering near and calling to us to hear its message,” Mack reported. “I have heard the call of his spirit. It is calling to me even now. But I cannot hear the message it would send, because the spirit is too weak.”

Headline from The New York Times, February 18, 1921. 

Headline from  The Pittsburgh Press, February 10, 1921.

Suddenly, a week after Bradford took his own life, Doran claimed she had a feeling she was going to hear from him, but it would be difficult considering how weak he was. Papers, thirsty for the next part of their bizarre story, urged spiritualists to concentrate on Bradford and “assist” him in reaching out. To make sure it was a focused effort it was agreed that 9pm was the time to take action and focus to help Bradford and Doran reconnect.

Much to the delight of some and criticism of others, at 9pm that night Doran sat in her darkened parlor with three witnesses. Suddenly, she put her hands to her temples, commanded the lights be turned off, and told someone to start writing. According to her, Bradford had finally arrived. “I hear his voice” she said to the room, “It is faint, but it grows more distinct. It is the professor.”

As Doran spoke in broken fragments the alleged message from Bradford was slowly pieced together:

“I am the professor who speaks to you from the Beyond. I have broken through the veil. The help of the living has greatly assisted me. I simply went to sleep. I woke up and at first did not realize that I had passed on. I find no great change apparent. I expected things to be much different. They are not. Human forms are retained in outline but not in the physical. I have not traveled far. I am still much in the darkness. I see many people. They appear natural. There is a lightness of responsibility here unlike in life. One feels full of rapture and happiness. Persons of like natures associate. I am associated with other investigators. I do not repent my act. My present plane is but the first series. I am still investigating the future planes regarding which we in this plane are as ignorant as are earthly beings of the life just beyond human life.”

At 10pm the lights were brought back on and a flustered Doran looked over the bits and pieces that she claimed were given to her directly from the spirit of Bradford. Then, she suddenly fainted. Once resuscitated one of the witnesses asked her if she was positive about her message, was she absolutely sure she was speaking with Bradford from beyond the grave? She was adamant, “I am convinced. I never heard a spirit voice before. That was the professor, without doubt."

Illustration from  The Ogden Standard-Examiner, February 21, 1921.

For all of the speculation and attention leading up to Doran waiting to hear from Bradford, the aftermath was remarkably tame. Despite the accounts from both Doran and Mack, members of both the Spiritualism community and the general public were not convinced that the alleged message from Bradford was proof of anything. The headlines faded into obscurity and Doran went along with them. Later in the year Doran wrote an article claiming that she maintained regular communication with her departed friend ever since. She was now a believer, still receiving messages from Bradford detailing how one day both realms would meet.

“Through spiritualism the world will be reclaimed: sin will be vanquished, suffering will end” she claimed he told her. “The physical in man will cease to be, and physical death, and that is the only death, will be no more. Men will live on earth forever, even as they live forever in the spirit world.”

At the time of his death Bradford was near penniless. His estranged wife living in Wisconsin only learned of his death later and his body was claimed by a brother, James Bradford, who handed it over to an undertaker for interment.

The body of Professor Thomas Lynn Bradford, the man who gave up his life to prove life after death, is buried in the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Detroit, Michigan.

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 14 of 28)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2,700

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug, who are now happily living in my closet amongst my cosplays and stuffed animals

Requested Tags: @deraniel​, @iamverity,  @yasnooshka24, @wegingerangelica, @themusingsofmany, @dark-night-sky-99, @tarynkauai, @stuffandstuff-stuff, @angelicshinigami, @my-current-fandom-is, @geekysimmerthings

Another vague email, another secret meeting. Par for the course you suppose. You brace yourself to walk into another room full of superheroes, but thankfully when you push open the door there’s just two relatively standard-stock agents in black suits, albeit with incredibly stony faces. The man gestures for you to sit, and you do so at the head of the table, so the pair are flanking you on either side.

“Hello.” You set your stuff down. “Can I help you?”

The female on your right, wearing her hair in a severe bun, raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at you. “Do you know why you’re here, agent?”

“No, you guys didn’t exactly put it in the subject line,” you joke, but are met with nothing but glares. Yikes. Tough crowd. “Am I… did I do something?”

“Not precisely.” The man sitting on your left hand side pulls out a few unassuming folders and sets them across from you. “My name is Sitwell. We recently received a few… interesting reports, from Agent Barton.”

Oh, crap. This can’t be good. “I see. What about?”

“How long have you been assigned to Loki, Y/N?”

“Um-” you count back the months in your mind. “It’s been a while. Eight months? Nine?”

“And what would you say your relationship to the prisoner is?”

You can’t help but wince a little at how he says the word prisoner. “Friendly, I guess. I mean, you talk to someone every day for almost a year, you get used to them, I suppose.”

The man- Sitwell- nods. “Agent Barton expressed similar sentiments. While it appears your assignment has been going smoothly, there have been concerns regarding your  ability to maintain… neutrality.”

You bristle. “What does that mean?”

He slides a folder towards you, flipping it open. “You were in D.C. for the Incident, correct?” You nod. “I’d like for you to take a look at some photos.”

The first photo, in horrifically excellent quality, is a skyscraper crumpled to ruin, its steel bones twisted and mangled into a fatal position. The street before it is upended, with concrete shattered everywhere.

You know what these pictures are from. You’ve seen the news. The city workers pushing rubble from one place to the next. The memorial reels commemorating the funerals of those caught in the crossfire that day.

Despite trying to brace yourself, your stomach twists at the images of carnage marring New York’s proudest city. You aren’t heartless, you can imagine the anxiety that permeates the alleyways. Once, it was the city that never sleeps. Then someone finally put its lights out.

“If you’ll flip to the last photo, please.” A picture of an incredibly unassuming man greets you. Receding hairline, watery blue eyes, same professional yet nondescript suit everyone wears around SHIELD. You squint at the headshot. His tie has a subtle design on it- do they really make neckties with Captain America’s shield on it?

Apparently you asked that last question out loud, because Sitwell gives you what you assume is the closest you’ll get to a smile from him. “They do, though I believe he had this one specially made.” He sobers. “Did you know Phil Coulson, agent?”

Oh. So this is the agent everyone’s had on the tip of their tongue. Apparently he was a legend around here- Fury’s right-hand man, both the Black Widow and Hawkeye’s handler, not to mention all the fantastical rumors of his own exploits. It’s something of an initiation process, scaring the interns with stories of how he battled his way out of a secret underground HYDRA base and escaped the Amazon with nothing but a Dasani water bottle and a popsicle stick. “No. I mean, I know of him. Everyone does. But he was gone before I transferred.”

Sitwell nods. “Phil Coulson was a very special man. Unfailing loyalty, a sharp eye, and a knack for keeping us all out of trouble.” He pauses. “He was one of my best friends.” You’d known that even before he had told you, just based on the admiration and grief in the agent’s voice. “He was also one of the most personal tragedies to result from the Manhattan Crisis.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” He nods elegantly, graciously. “There are, of course, dozens of other agents who ended up in the crossfire. Not to mention the civilian count.”

“Why are you showing me this?” You ask tiredly, even though you already know the answer.

“We thought it prudent to remind you who we have in that cell, and why.” The folder is closed; the pictures of a devastated city fade back into history. “Loki Laufeyson is not your friend, agent Y/L/N, nor is he someone to be reformed, rehabilitated, or empathized with.” His words are crisp and incredibly cold; hailstones biting at your cheeks in December. “He is an inter-dimensional war criminal with hundreds of innocent lives hanging over his head. He is a murderer, a manipulator, and a liar. He speared Coulson through the chest and left him to bleed out on the floor. Do not forget that,” he adds gently.

You open your mouth to say- something. To defend him, or yourself, or both. But nothing comes. Sitwell and his friend rise from their seats and tuck cream folders neatly under their arms. “Thank you for your time, agent.” When the door closes behind them, you’re still sitting blankly, imagining Phil Coulson staring blankly at you with just a hint of a smile in his blue eyes.

                                                            XXX

“Copper for your thoughts, darling?”

You smile wearily at Loki, head propped on your hand. “It’d be a waste of a penny; I’m not thinking anything in particular.”

“Mmm, I do not believe so. It’d be nothing compared to your attention. But beyond that, something is clearly wrong.” He gestures to you, at your shoulders that are clearly slumped and your fingers twisting anxiously. “Tell me about it?”

You sigh and force yourself to stop fidgeting. “I was called into a meeting. It wasn’t very fun.”

He hums noncommittally, clearly waiting for you to elaborate.

Everything in you hesitates. You don’t want to go there. You really don’t. In the beginning, you told yourself you wouldn’t because it wasn’t your job; later, it didn’t really seem to matter. But if you’re being honest, it’s been digging at the back of your brain for a while now. Every so often you’d be laughing with him and then suddenly stop and think to yourself, this is the man who tried to take over the world. Loki is a tricky, temperamental bastard with a lot of issues, but world domination always seemed a bit… much? You can’t reconcile the carnage downtown with the man sitting across from you. And yet…

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

Loki tilts his head, worried. “I suppose. Is everything alright?”

“… why’d you do it?”

He doesn’t ask what you’re referring to.

For a minute the both of you just look at each other. Your gaze isn’t accusatory, it isn’t angry or demanding- simply confused, and a little sad. Loki, similarity, doesn’t react with heat or deflection or any of his hundreds of other tools of the trade. He looks sad, too, and considers you with a heaviness that’s tangible all the way across the room. “You don’t have to say anything. I just-” you drop head in your hands, as though it’s suddenly too much to hold it up. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been trying to wrap my brain around it for a long time. And then they showed me these pictures, and I guess an agent you, um… stabbed… and it- doesn’t make sense.” You can see your own reflection mirrored over Loki in the glass, just slightly superimposing your features on his own. “I like to think that I know you. I want to think that I know you. But everyone keeps trying to convince me that you’re not the person I think I know.”

You shake your head and laugh a little at yourself with a weary tone. “I’m sorry. I’m probably not making any sense.”

“You always speak intelligently, Witling. I admire you for that.” He laces his hands in front of him, as he does when he wants to keep himself still. “It is… complicated. And incredibly ugly.” He glances at you. “I would not wish to burden you with the story.”

“I’ve got nothing but time.” You smile a little at him, though it’s tinged with melancholy. “And I think we’ve established I’ve got a decent perspective on ugly stories.”

You feel his green eyes on you- such a familiar feeling, even though now it makes you shift anxiously in your seat. “I suppose you deserve to know. You are one of the few who have shown me any grace for my actions.” In a graceful movement, he criss-crosses his long legs in front of him, and lets his elbows rest on his knees. “You know of the events in New Mexico?”

“More or less.”

“It was, in essence, a desperate scheme to win the affections of my father. To prove my worthiness in the eyes of someone who had never seen me as such.” Loki is excellent at hiding his feelings when he wants to, but by now you can see through all the façades he throws up to protect himself. “I had discovered my heritage in… less than ideal circumstances. I believed Thor’s downfall was my chance to claim everything I’d ever yearned for, only to realize those dreams were never possible to begin with. My anger was- immense.” Something in his voice cracks. “I was mourning so many different lives. My childhood, my Aesir form, my father’s son and an heir to Asgard. Everything I had ever known was simply an illusion waiting to be shattered.” He grimaces. “I did not handle it well.”

You don’t think your chest has ever hurt this much. “I don’t think anyone would, Loki. You can’t blame yourself for feeling angry.”

“What has anger every gained us,” he says softly, as though he’s quoting some wise scholar.

You don’t know what to say to that.

“I pleaded with my father over the broken Bifrost,” he says, “asking him if he could ever truly love me the way any child craves. And he denied me that simple need once and for all.”

“Loki-”

He shakes his head. “Thor was holding me aloft over the abyss. He would have pulled me to safety, I am sure of it. But instead- I let go.”

In your entire life, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone sound so broken as he does in this moment. It makes you physically ache, and you want to take his grief and shoulder it yourself so he might have a spare moment of peace; let your thumb rub away the lines etched in his face until they smooth into something happier.

“When Thanos found me, I did not have the strength or heart to resist.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who is-”

“Don’t,” Loki warns. “Please. He is…” he mumbles a few things under his breath, but in languages you can’t understand. “He is a titan that has risen from the depths intent on his own ideas of perfection. His cruelty is outshone only by his ambition.” You can’t hold back a small noise of dismay when you notice his fingers are trembling. “I could not have fallen into his power at a more opportune time.”

“I will not claim to be wholly innocent. I am not. When he offered me dominion over Thor’s beloved Earth, I did not stay my hand from the weapon he gave me. But only after I received it did I realize his true intentions.” He takes a shaky breath, and presses his spine to the wall behind him, like he needs the support. “Casualties the likes of which you could not imagine. Violence, brutally meted without hesitation. The entire galaxy balanced in the palm of his hand. I tried to run- but I was weak, and now he had a grip on my very being.” The smile he gives is mirthless, haunted. “I am not easily broken. But they did so… effortlessly.”

By now you’ve drawn your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them, curling in on yourself as tight as you can manage. It’s like the room has dropped in temperature, slowly freezing your blood from the inside out. “What did…” you trail off, your voice thin enough to crack the most fragile sheet of ice. “Do I want to know?”

“I would not tell you even if you did.” You roughly wipe away a tear with the heel of your hand. “But the heat was immeasurable, and the scars were thoroughly and deliberately gifted.”

You wince reflexively. “How do you torture a frost giant,” you murmur, trying to push all kinds of horrific images out of your mind.

He nods briefly. “Precisely. All the while the infinity stone was working its power. I can resist thrall more than most, but not completely.”

“You mentioned an infinity stone before.”

“The mind stone is one of them. It is housed in the scepter Thanos gave me; the one I brought to Midgard during the invasion.”

Pieces are coming together one by one, into a warped and twisted sort of understanding. “That scepter- you used it to brainwash Barton, and everyone else.”

“Yes.”

“And it was also… controlling you?”

“Not so completely. I could resist in certain moments.”

“No, but- Loki.” You sit forward, trying to understand what he’s telling you. “It was controlling you. You were being controlled. Just like Barton. Just like all the others.”

“One could say.”

“Loki! This means- it means it wasn’t your fault!” You’re a strange mix of hopefulness, wrath, depression, and enlightenment. “Does SHIELD know this? Do the Avengers?”

“No,” he says fiercely, and he pins you with that gaze of his. “And you will not tell them.”

That stops you short. “Why-?”

“Because I am guilty no matter the circumstances, darling.” His voice is gentle, like he’s trying to let you down easy. “I did not refuse Thanos’ offer.”

“You had just fallen through space and time after your entire identity was stolen from you,” you retort. “Even if the latter hadn’t happened, would you have physically been able to resist after your fall? Enough to escape?”

“I- do not know.”

“Loki.” You sit back and rub your eyes. “This changes everything.”

“It doesn’t.”

“It does! If Barton isn’t being held responsible for what he did when he wasn’t in control of his body then you sure as hell shouldn’t be!”

“Witling-”

“When Fury knows he’ll have to-”

“He will not know! And you-” he looks at you firmly, “will not tell him. Anyone. Promise me, Witling.”

“But why? Loki, you could clear your name-”

“He is the most dangerous thing in the galaxy,” he hisses, “and he will be coming back.” When your eyes widen, Loki closes his own and takes a deep breath to steady himself. “I fear it more than Ragnarok,” he says simply. “I would not bring any more destruction to this world than I already have. At least for now.”

You’re ready to argue, ready to fight with him tooth and nail until he realizes just how not at fault he actually is for this whole catastrophe- but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Not when he’s shivering and vulnerable and minutes away from tipping into a headspace you know would be hell to drag him out of.

“Okay.” He looks at you. “I- I don’t agree with it. But I trust you. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thank you for telling me.”

Loki nods, his face exhausted and drawn. “In here, I would trust you before I trust myself.”

[archer3-13]

Hypothetical awakening sequal: fire emblem reawakening

more of an idea spitballin because the question was on my mind. still, if your interested heres what i have written down as to what a hypothetical plot for such a game could be

set after awakening, 17 years later meaning normal lucinas 18 ish at this point. Follows a inter changing story between plegian rebels asserting their independence against the corrupt occupational army and a bright eyed lucina looking to make a name for herself similar to the hero king of old as dark rumors originate from ferox that a new "great khan" has risen who has facilitated the abuses of the past years in plegia.

plegian rebels doing rebel things is where the story starts, namely with the plegian hero interrupting the execution of plegian citizens. During this introductory period we learn that for over ten years plegia has been under feroxian occupation, in part as a response to the civil strife that engulfed plegia when its principle god and leaders were killed with no clear line of royal succession. This had led to the last war by the shepherds before its official disbandment as chrom could not bear to let plegia suffer as his father did. However, the war rapidly spiraled out of control as the shepherds though experienced lacked numbers and resources since ylisse wasn't officially supporting the action, eventually resulting in a force of feroxian soldiers led by lon'qu to intervene. 

with ferox officially the winner, flavia and chrom left soldiers in plegia to help keep the peace and rebuild the ravaged country, with the plegian citizens welcoming this at first for the security of stability. thus it was like this until the seventh year of grimnas death, when the feroxian forces suddenly became an occupation with the ascension of a new khan, lon'qu who established the position of great khan and merged the countries two khan positions into one. With feroxians now an occupation force strict rules and brutal enforcement became the new norm, especially when a group of grima faithful planning a number of terror attacks were unveiled. the plegian rebels are thus bitter and determined after ten years of these abuses and they plan to take their country back, before turning eyes towards those they feel responsible for their suffering. 

meanwhile, a young lucina struggles with the weight of expectations her fathers world saving reputation places on her, not to mention how her fathers sudden development of an illness the healers cant cure has accelerated the pressure of getting her ready to inherit the throne in case her father suddenly passes away. This non future lucina is thus somewhat arrogant in a teenage rebellious kind of way lacking the same grim disposition her future self had and being immature, she does however still posses a good and kind at heart though non future lucina has little interest in marths legend at first. Regardless shes traversing ylisse seeing the sights and helping where she can, and its here we learn a bit about how ylisse views the plegian situation or rather how alarmingly in the dark they are about feroxes abuses in plegia, in part because of the tight lock down ferox has on plegia and in part because of the continuing friendly relations they have with ferox. Regardless its only until they receive a sudden and urgent request from the great khan to provide military forces to help quash plegian insurgents that things begin to get sticky. 

Lucina eagerly accepts the call in her fathers place, yearning to begin proving herself against her fathers reputation and out of a somewhat ignorant desire to help people by beating up plegia. However once in plegia even she can begin to see the dark truth of whats going on despite the feroxins best efforts to hide it. thus for the next little bit lucina and the plegian rebels have a back and forth as they try and outdo the other culminating with the ylissean forces finally cornering the plegian rebels. However before the final blow can be delivered so to speak terrible news reaches them, ylisse has been invaded by ferox and the ferox army is closing in on their position with intent to wipe them all out. 

In a desperate move the rebels and ylisseans team up to survive the onslaught and just barely make it out both sides curious as to what the fuck happened. Lon'qu announces his intents to unify the continent under one banner for the necessity of its future before issuing a manhunt for the battered remnants of the ylisse and rebel forces. Thus the two forces join hands for the next part of the game as they navigate avoiding the ferox forces and reclaiming both of their homelands well also coming to an understanding with each other and eventual friendship. during this time they also begin pulling information from ferox and learn of the startling changes that have happened since lon'qu became great khan and how many of the citizens of ferox dont approve of this action but cant speak out over an army purged of non lon'qu loyalists or toadies. 

Thus the questions begin to center on what has happened to lon'qu, with it gradly being hinted at as dragon possession/influence on the mind to create a strong empire coupled by the words of scheming advisors who serve this dragon. who the dragon is however is unknown. When they do start to confront lon'qu himself however it becomes apparent that hes more in control then first thought, suffering a condition similar to emperor hardin where his darkest thoughts and aspects of his person have been amplified to unmanageable proportions, namely a desire to create stability and an emphasis on strength as the deciding virtue. 

They also begin learning more about the power that led him to become like this, a powerful sorcerer from the continent of judgral of all things who once provided the grima faithful with their copious amounts of judgral swag and who even established the order in the first place being a manakete himself who lost his draconic power much like gohto and turned to magic. the sorcers plan is thus to establish a new dark dragon of incredible strength and bring ruin to the world once more though this time its through the empowerment of a new host. A young female manakete who seeks power in order to avenge her fallen family who were massacred by humans shortly after grimas first fall. 

Well the allied force try and stop it, having split up for a time to cover more ground and reuniting in order to tackle the threat together, they are unable to stop the manaketes empowerment in time and a new dark dragon roams the land bringing ruin the ylisses castle as part of its revenge. beaten but not broken, the heroes regroup and get some extra determination and naga power before plunging in for round two and just barely slaying the dark dragon though not before realizing that this dragon will inevitably return one day thanks to machinations from the now deceased manakete sorcerer. in the bad end. 

in the good end theres a greater sense of permenance thanks to the heroes managing to calm the dragons restless spirit when laying it to rest thus reducing the likelihood of its return. either way they have a shit blasted continent to deal with, though with strong bonds of friendship formed between the ylisseans, the rebels, and feroxin objectors to lon'qus rule they might have the strength to build a bright future.

[spectral-musette]

So I saw the new live-action Aladdin last night.

Like Beauty and the Beast (2017), this was a direct remake of the animated musical from the Disney Renaissance, songs and all, with a new script following the same storyline. BatB (2017) worked a little better for me, personally, I think, but that’s quite subjective, and I can definitely see people preferring Aladdin (2019).

This movie faces the similar trouble of BatB in that Aladdin (1992) is such a beautiful film that it would be very difficult to improve on it without just making a unique film rather than a remake (more in the style of Cinderella (2015), for instance). But the degree to which we follow the storyline of Aladdin (1992) and faithfully re-stage those songs makes direct comparisons inevitable, and, in terms of my own preference, Aladdin (1992) is usually coming out on top.

Visually speaking, it’s very colorful and appealing, but it doesn’t quite have the same distinctive palette that Aladdin (1992) does. A lot of the settings (while beautiful) seemed to be CG, so while having a sense of not occupying the real world wasn’t necessarily bad for this type of over the top fantasy film, I think I could’ve used a little more grounding.

The one thing that 2019 has over 1992 is casting people of color. I thought the cast was great, and any nitpicks I have with characterization come down to the script, not the performances, which were excellent.

I’ve marked any plot points that significantly differ from Aladdin (1992) as (SPOILERS) and with a strikethrough.

By musical number:

 Arabian Nights:

I actually quite liked this. The friend that I was in the theatre with said she was a bit thrown by the recognition of Will Smith’s voice, but it didn’t bother me. The new lyrics were good, and I loved the use of the verse from the old animated tv series (“take off and take flight/may shock and amaze” etc.).

One Jump Ahead:

This was the song I struggled the most with. The slow down of the tempo absolutely didn’t work. To me, this needs to be a fast-paced song to convey the adrenaline and momentum of the scene. By tying it to a slower, heavy beat, it felt positively plodding. The singing was certainly fine and I liked Aladdin’s voice a lot, but the tempo was killing me.

Jasmine’s New Song (Speechless):

Jasmine absolutely needed at least one more song. This one was fine; it sounded a bit pop, but I’m sure the original songs sounded pop at the time too. I think I’d have to give it another listen to see how it fits with the musical themes of the new score and with the other songs.

Friend Like Me:

Not much change in content from the original song, but different delivery, of course. If you are able to like Will Smith’s take on the Genie despite it not being the same as Robin Williams’, you’ll probably be okay with this.

Prince Ali:

Somehow felt very stagey, not in a bad way? Again, pretty similar to the original song, though I did note the “correction” from “brush up your Sunday salaam” to “Friday salaam”.

A Whole New World:

Pretty singing of a pretty song, no major lyric changes. The friend I was with complained about the slow tempo of this one, but it didn’t bother me the way that One Jump Ahead did.

Prince Ali (reprise): DIDN’T HAPPEN D: and I missed it a lot. Reprised “Speechless” instead, which was certainly dramatic, but the lyrics seemed lackluster here. A big feature of the classic Aladdin songs is that they tend to be wordy and eloquent (Howard Ashman’s touch, I guess, and no doubt Tim Rice too), so it felt a little out of place.

Surprisingly, we didn’t even have a pop cover of Speechless for the end credits. Maybe I was spoiled by three new songs that I liked in BatB (2017), but I felt like there was room for more additions in this film.

By major character:

Aladdin: Mena Massoud was excellent, loved the boy. Adorable as heck (the eyes and the smile), and very charming. His singing was good, though I felt like he could’ve used a little more of a chance to impress. The physicality of the role was amazing, both in his parkour scenes in Agrabah, and with the (SPOILERS) dance number in which the Genie is controlling Aladdin’s movements. The performance of doing complex dance steps while selling that he wasn’t in control of his own body was superbly done.

The thing I missed most about the animated version of the character was that this Aladdin didn’t quite seem to be quite the quick-thinking trickster that Animated Aladdin is. There’s an element there, but it didn’t come across as strongly to me. Animated Aladdin takes to the role of Prince Ali pretty handily, and his missteps are when he overacts it, being too much like how he thinks a prince should be. In contrast, New Aladdin is pretty paralyzed by nerves, which was charming in its way, just different. There’s also a change that we see New Aladdin stealing valuables to make a living, (though clearly not a great one) as a pickpocket, compared to Animated Aladdin who we only ever see steal food for himself and others (despite his klepto monkey). The dynamic with Genie is different too, less openly affectionate, but that’s also a factor of Genie’s change in characterization. I think it also is factor in inter-character dynamics that Animated Aladdin skews a bit younger, still a teenager, while New Aladdin is more grown up, a young man.

Abu: Abu’s CG face was a little uncanny valley to me. I think I would’ve preferred to see something more like the performance of Jack the Monkey in the PotC films, even if it wouldn’t have been quite as expressive and human-like as animated Abu. However, I do get that working with animals is pretty tough, and I see why the choices were made.

The Genie: Will Smith was doing his thing, and I didn’t really expect anything else. I warmed pretty well to his take on the character. He absolutely doesn’t do the quick-quippy motor-mouthed slapstick style of Robin Williams’ Genie, and it’s probably better that way. His performances of the iconic songs were solid, I think, striking a balance of nostalgia and novelty. How an individual viewer might want that balance to lean is going to vary, though.

I thought the film might’ve undersold the Genie’s longing to be free of the lamp. This was especially noticeable in the scene where Aladdin tells him that he can’t use his third wish to free him. Original Genie reacts with hurt and betrayal, New Genie redirects the conversation to be about Aladdin continuing to lie to Jasmine about his identity, buying his own con, as it were. Part of it is that New Genie is a little more emotionally reserved, plays things a bit closer to the (absent) vest. I think the case could’ve been made that Genie never really expected Aladdin to follow through on that promise, but as it was, it just didn’t quite ring true.

(SPOILERS)

I did really like the storytelling framing of the beginning of the film, but I thought it was underused! It would have been charming to Princess Bride the whole narrative, with the kids interjecting occasionally, and seeing the story through their eyes with their father playing the role of the Genie. Let the audience buy the storytelling device, and at the end when the kids are expressing their incredulity that such a story could be true, the reveal to the audience that their mother is the princess’s handmaiden would’ve been enough to leave the ambiguity – is the Mariner really truly the Genie, or is it just a story? I think that could’ve been lovely.

Princess Jasmine: Naomi Scott is beautiful, has a lovely voice, and gave a charming performance. I do wish they had cast someone who looks a little more like Animated Jasmine, but I don’t dislike New Jasmine. Giving Jasmine a strong motivation to become a leader, be her father’s successor, and make a positive difference in the lives of the people in her city was nice.

Jafar: While still menacing, Jafar lost some of the gleeful mustache twirling evil of Animated Jafar. I missed that high, cruel laughter and the disdainful aristocratic bearing. I do understand avoiding some of the iconic lines, but unfortunately the replacements weren’t… as good. New Jafar had interesting aspects, but it seemed like some of his story arc might’ve gotten left on the cutting room floor. It really seemed at first that we were implying that Jafar had actually murdered Jasmine’s late mother, but the movie just never picked up that thread. It wasn’t a bad performance, just a different character.

Iago: Iago seemed sort of in limbo between being a true magicians familiar, a fully realized character as in the animated film, and just being a parrot. I think going entirely in either direction would’ve been an improvement over what we got (mostly parrot behavior with occasional phrases that seemed to show independent thought). I think Jafar suffered a bit from this reduction of Iago’s role too– is it harder to have a dark comedy double act with an actual realistic parrot? (Parrot owners probably disagree)

Dahlia: An original character, and an interesting addition: Jasmine’s handmaiden (allowing Jasmine to pull some Padme-style who-is-the-real-princess shenanigans early in the film). She was charming, sweetly awkward at times, and (SPOILERS) though the b-plot romance between her and the Genie wasn’t quite pulled off with the panache it could’ve been (it’s no Lumiere/Plumette, okay?), it was cute and I liked it okay. Interestingly, her features were probably a closer match to animated Princess Jasmine.

Carpet: Probably the most faithful to the characterization in (1992). I have always adored Carpet, and I thought the gestures and movements of the CG version nicely captured the spirit of the original, though I think with comparatively less screentime? I genuinely reacted with anxiety every time Carpet was in danger even though I obviously knew everything was going to be all right in the end. #I can’t believe it, I’m losing (my heart) to a rug

There were definitely moments that I felt like a sequel was being set up, which is an interesting choice considering how notoriously bad The Return of Jafar is. That said, I do think you could absolutely pull some story elements from that hot mess and Aladdin and The King of Thieves (which is charming in its way but still direct to video quality) and actually make a film that would be able to flesh out this new version of the story and blossom outside the shadow of the original animated film. I’m not sure that’s going to actually happen, but it would be interesting to see.

[faintblueivy]

All and little of what follows - Renruki fanfiction

Alright. Alright! I know that it is too late for Renrukiday and even I can’t excuse myself for this but well, yes, life happens. I was busy with some stuff and things got dragged on and I couldn’t bring myself to half-ass this. So well, yeah, here I am with a new renruki fic! Hope you enjoy!

Also posted on ao3

dedicated to: @salzrand​

Words : 4820

All and little of what follows

The clacking of wooden swords striking against each other echoed throughout the compound of sixth division. Violet eyes carefully observed the form of each and every participant of this exercise, ready to guide if a wrong form was seen or an incorrect blow was made. Everything was going smoothly when she felt his presence behind herself.

“How is the practice regimen going on, lieutenant Kuchiki?”

She turned to give her brother a respectful nod of acknowledgement and said, ‘It is going all according to the schedule. Members from both squads are performing sufficiently.”

Gotei 13 has a tradition of conducting inter squad training regimens in order to promote the spirit of friendliness and cooperation between the members of different squads in order for proper functioning and synchronisation for the system to work together as a whole. Since Rukia’s promotion as the lieutenant of thirteenth division, this is her seventh time conducting a combined training regimen. Albeit, most of them have been done with sixth division due to her closeness of its elites – namely the Captain and lieutenant and her own Captain’s infinite support to her, but one was also done with fourth division as well.

Well, these exercises were always done in the supervision of lieutenants of the respective squads, but due to an unavoidable mission lasting an entire week had caused Lieutenant Abarai and few elite members of sixth division to be absent on this particular event. Maybe it is the reason behind her brother’s – better known to the people here as Captain Kuchiki’s -repeated visits. It was not that he had any doubt over her abilities, it’s just that he was a worrywart, and Renji’s absence definitely brought it out. Rukia inwardly smirked at her brother’s attempt to remain neutral despite his behaviour of fretting over things.

When she realised that the routine was nearing its completion, she raised a hand to signal halt. She climbed down the porch in front of the subordinates and announced loudly.

“Today’s training regimen has been successfully completed and you call have performed remarkably well. You all can have a fifteen minutes break and then the thirteenth division would need to file out and head back. Is that understood?”

“Yes Mam!” The loud chorus of affirmation was heard and Rukia found herself pleased with the response. When she whirled around to look at her brother he was already looking at her, a hint of smile gracing his lips, so faint that nobody else but her could see it. He nodded in her direction and then walked back to his office with all the easy grace that was expected of him.

“Lieutenant Kuchiki?”

At herself being addressed, Rukia turned to look at the source before her. A timid looking woman, which Rukia quickly recognised as the sixth division’s seventh seat, stood in front of her.

Rukia gave her an encouraging smile to her as an indication to continue and the woman looked positively thrilled with it.

“My name is Okuda Megumi, the seventh seat of sixth division. Lieutenant Abarai had requested me to assist you in the paperwork of this exercise before leaving.”

Rukia couldn’t hold back a smile at that.

“Ah, yes, thank you very much. I’d be glad for your assistance.”

The woman visibly brightened at her response before guiding her to Renji’s office. Of course, Rukia didn’t need her for that. She has already been to Renji’s office multiple times. And it was adjacent to her brother’s office as well, separated by thin walls. When they entered the room she was surprised to see all the papers and forms all neatly arranged and filed accordingly. She seated herself to peer over the documents but instead found her gaze straying to the woman who flitted around the room with knowing and well versed steps.

“It seems like you know your way around here, Okuda-san.” Rukia commented.

The woman laughed lightly.

“Yes Mam, I do! Sometimes, I help lieutenant Abarai in paperwork.”

“Oh, does he push his work on you?” Rukia asked with a little ire.

“Oh no, no! Not at all! You see, well, he is not very fond of paperwork but he does his job diligently. Sometimes the workload is more and well, Captain Kuchiki is quite strict when it comes to things like this so, I, at times assist him out of my own free will.”

That…was true. Her brother was definitely uncompromising when it comes to paperwork and documents. Captain Ukitake was much more lenient comparatively. There was no denying to that. And she was perfectly aware that Renji has always been an action’s man. Sitting in one place and dealing with documents all day long was just not his forte. So yes, asking for help would be plausible. She’s ripped out of her thoughts when the other woman said fondly.

“I’m glad that we have Lieutenant Abarai with us.”

That caused Rukia to raise a brow at her before she asked, “It is not often that I see a woman at the position of a seated officer…let alone this high. Apologies, I didn’t mean to come out as this rude, but I’m very curious.”

The girl smiled, “Oh you don’t have to apologise. I perfectly understand your sentiments. And anyways, my status is a result of my training with Lieutenant Abarai.”

Rukia jerked at that.

“Training?”

“Yes, well, I have always been a little lost cause. People always tended to ignore and isolate me for as long as I can remember. But one day, it was during a training session under him that he told me that some of my sword combat moves looked good and they can definitely become better with some proper modifications. Since that day, he took active interest in my development and offered to train me. It not only helped me grow my skills but also raised my confidence towards my own abilities. And before I knew it, I was here, above a lot of my peers.”

Hearing the woman tell her story, Rukia felt a strange sense of nostalgia. This seemed exactly like how Kaien had supported her. Made her capable and strong. Made her what she is today. A surge of pride warmed her chest at the thought of Renji helping someone to live with respect. She was brought out of her musings when the woman set a tray in front of her. And the smell that penetrated her nostrils was definitely familiar.

Chamomile tea! Her favourite!

Surprised, she looked up at the woman who was pouring the tea into ceramic cups.

“How did you-”

“Lieutenant loves to talk a lot about you. It is his favourite pastime.”

Rukia found herself flushing red at her words and the woman giggled, a little amused at her embarrassment.

The rest of the time was spent with being completely productive. Okuda’s help proved to be a blessing with the massive paperwork and Rukia found herself getting fonder of her as they spent more time together.

The work was almost completed when the door was slid open and her brother walked in. Okuda immediately scrambled up and bowed her head demurely in greeting to her Captain and Rukia collected the documents that were needed to be approved by him but stopped when he gestured to Okuda.

“Seventh seat Okuda, deposit these on my desk.” He ordered and she immediately followed. Bowing her head to both of them and giving her a smile before imparting, she left to perform her errand.

“What-” her brother paused and then continued, “Do you think of her? Renji has taken a keen interest in her development.”

Rukia gave a bright smile to answer, “Yes, she told me about it. And, I’m glad.”

She must have definitely imagined the widening of his eyes before he closed them but then the rare, but yet slowly becoming familiar smile was present.

“Yes, she is proving to be quite a useful asset to the division with her skills. He is…quite proficient in bringing the positive out of people.”

Rukia smiled. Oh, it didn’t seem like it in the first glance but Renji did have a knack of leadership. Even back then, he was the one to lead their little band of hooligans with fervidly. When someone would stumble, he would gladly offer his hand and that stupid wide grin and they’ll grasp onto him, deciding to stay by his side.

“So, I assume you’ll be taking your leave then?”

“Yes, I believe that is the case since the work here is done.”

“I see.” He turned back to leave but then halted on the threshold.

“Anyways, I have just received information that they have entered Sereitei and will be arriving any minute now.”

As soon as he finished the statement they heard crashes and some commotion outside. She watched her brother exhaling a sigh before commenting, “Looks like they have arrived.”

She could almost make out a fond exasperation behind his neutral tone but he did not give her enough time to ponder over it.

“Tell Renji that he has one hour before needing to report to me.”

Rukia bowed to him thankfully before exiting the room. She could hear his boisterous laugh and loud words from here itself. Unknowing, her steps quickened in pace as she turned round the corner. The sun shined in her eyes when she saw him. He was violently patting the back of one of his subordinates with a large smile commenting about how they didn’t look stronger since the time he was away. The other members surrounding were laughing out and someone from the crowd exclaimed about how they weren’t him and didn’t enjoy training every chance they had. But the loud conversation died out when she stepped into light, effectively silencing the lot.

Renji looked a little confused at the sudden quietness before swivelling his head in her direction. The smile he had worn immediately morphed into one large grin.

“Rukia!” He called out before taking four massive steps and coming to stand in front of her.

“Renji.” She greeted him, not holding back a smile at his arrival back home.

But before the conversation could continue further Rikichi said worriedly, “Lieutenant! We should first go to fourth division to get your arm healed, sir.”

That instantly made Rukia’s ears stand up.

“Arm? Healing? What happened?” she questioned but noticed Renji glaring at his subordinate but the boy looked completely unfazed. It was again the boy who answered for her because Renji was apparently busy trying to scare the boy off.

“On our third day we were attacked by a horde of Menos Grande. They were not much trouble to the lieutenant and other powerful officers but one dangerous hollow managed to sneak past them and entered the village. He slashed at the kid but lieutenant managed to save him by incredibly fast shunpo. Though he got severely injured in process. He attained a large slash on his arm. But, you were so cool! Lieutenant!”

Rukia smirked at the embarrassed look on Renji’s face at his subordinate’s admiration but a pang of worry was in her chest.

“Did you not have a healer in your group?” she asked.

“No mam. We mainly had combat specialists with us. We did not expect the Menos in the first place either.”

That made sense, she realised. Since Aizen’s defeat, a few months ago, the boundaries between the worlds were quite unstable, Causing Menos and Hollows to pop up out of nowhere. She thanked the boy for letting her know before dragging Renji away herself.

“Rukia! Wait! I’ve gotta see Captain Kuchiki before!”

“He knows you’re already here. Told me that you can see him an hour later.”

“What?” he stopped dead in his tracks, hardly believing.

“Yes.” She confirmed before yanking him back on the path.

“But I don’t wanna go!” he complained.

“Don’t be such a baby, Renji!” she scolded him harshly before deciding to make an offer.

“Choose. You want to go to fourth division or want me to have a look at the injury.”

He grimaced visibly. She wanted to laugh at him but then crossed her arms in front and proceeded to glare at him fiercely. After a few moments of staring he finally gave up.

“Fine! You win. Have a look!” he raised his hands in surrender but then winced when the pain flared up.

Dragging him beneath a canopy of tree, she forced him to sit. She rolled up his sleeves and examined the damaged arm. It was wrapped up quite nicely. Slowly undoing the bandages, her eyes narrowed.

“It is a large and deep cut. Did you clean it regularly?”

“Yes, yes. I did. Not looking for a nasty infection. Even I’m’ not that stupid you know!”

“I had my doubts.” Rukia deadpanned, grazing her fingers lightly over his injury. Her hand glowed with the healing application of kido, sealing the cracks in his skin carefully.

“How did the training exercises go? They told me you were great.”

“It went smoothly.” Her hand prodded his healed arm to detect any sign of further pain and immediately found herself satisfied with her work.

“Though it was lot quieter without you.” She said softly, looking away.

“Are we meeting up today? After work?” he questioned as they sat there idly.

“Eh? You still want to? You just came back! Are you not tired?”

“Haha! Not at all! I’m that good!”

Rukia rolled her eyes at his boisterous answer but what he said next made her still.

“I missed you.”

His voice was so small that it could have been easily missed but between the silent companionship that they shared, it ringed loudly.

Rukia immediately jumped up, her cheeks burning pink at his words. She turned to the other side and marched away a few steps refusing to look back.

“F-Fine! We can meet up! The usual place and the usual time, right?”

“Alright!”

Hearing his response, she instantly flickered away unaware of that fond smile that spoke volumes of the affection her best friend held for her.

…

The skies turned darker with the swirling grey clouds, threatening to spill over the Seritei any moment now. Rukia was standing on the porch waiting for her brother to appear. She had almost left for her meeting with Renji when she had received summon from her brother.

  Just a few moments later, he arrived, his white haroi swishing behind. Handing a large envelope to her he commanded, “I want you to deliver this to Renji.”

  “Yes, Nii-sama.” she nodded and tucked it between her arms before heading out. The hustle and bustle in Seritei is increased by ten times when the evening rolls by. And with the spread of the dark clouds, the ambience was much darker than normal. When watched various faces pass by, some familiar and some completely unknown. Trudging towards her destination she saw a few people on the way who looked as worried about the weather as she felt. But ignoring it all, she finally reached her destination and spotted him immediately. After all, with a height as tall as that and hair as red as his, it was not easy to miss him.

  He gazed through the crowd and grinned when she raised an arm to attract his attention. When she came to stand beside him, he poked her shoulder.

  “I think you really need to start growing.” He mocked.

  “And I think that you really need to stop growing.” She retaliated.

  He shook his head, laughing at her feistiness before escorting her inside. They occupied one of the farthest table from the entrance, at the right corner and Rukia slipped the envelope on the table pushing it towards him. He raised a questioning brow at her.

  “Nii-sama.”

  That word alone was enough to explain everything and he seemed to agree with that. He opened the envelope and read some of the documents when a small hand written note slipped from inside. Rukia curiously watched him pick it up, read it and then slip it back into the folder.  

  Their activities were interrupted when the waitress arrived and asked for their orders. While waiting for their orders they talked about this and that. About his mission and the training regimen. The food was as good as always and Rukia felt gratification at the lovely taste. They also talked about Okuda and Renji told her that the girl looked up at her with so much admiration. But Rukia wanted to tell him about the admiration the girl has for him can hardly compare to the gratefulness that the girl feels for the kindness that Renji had bestowed upon her.

  Later when the exited the restaurant, on their way to the Kuchiki mansion, Rukia's fears came true when it started raining cats and dogs. Yelping out loudly, she squeaked when Renji grabbed her hand and they raced through the streets towards sixth division barracks because they were closer in comparison to her home.

   And it triggered a memory, of a red haired boy and a black haired girl running through the narrow slums, all happy giggles and smiles and loud laughs. Getting drenched together and cursing the rain together, building up a fire to warm themselves together and cuddling up together to keep themselves alive.

  Together.

  Always together.

  But then suddenly not.

  But that was something she didn't want to think about. Ever. Especially not when everything was okay. Now when finally after decades of lamenting, they could run like this again.

  The guard of Sixth division barracks opened the gates as soon as he recognised both of them. Water pelted against her face as Renji raced through the courtyard, still dragging her, to reach his quarters. Slamming the front door open and thrusting her inside and yelled.

  “Go, remove those wet clothes! I'll be back!”

  That was all he said before turning on to his heel and launching himself to run off somewhere back in that merciless rain, leaving her dripping in cold all over the place. The quarters given to the lieutenants were very large and spacious. She entered on of the spare rooms and was in the process of untying her Obi when she heard a soft knock at the door. Instantly, she knew it was not Renji. Cautiously, she peeked out of the room to see the intruder and felt herself quite surprised at the sight of Okuda, who held a small package in her hands, searching for something. Before Rukia could utter put a sound the woman herself called out, still looking around.

  “Lieutenant Kuchiki?”

  “Yes I'm here!” Rukia replied.

  She immediately spotted her and stepped up to her, handing the small package. At Rukia's questioning gaze, she supplied, “Lieutenant Abarai just banged on my door claiming if it was okay for him to borrow one of my normal Kimonos for you. But due to some further work, he requested me to fetch it to you.”

  Rukia nodded with a thankful smile and slipped into the room to change. Tying it roughly, she jumped out, thanking the woman.

  “Thank you so much!”

  “Ah, no problem! I'm glad I could be of your assistance.” The woman bowed and left.

  Rukia, deciding to make some tea to warm herself and her absent host entered his kitchen to boil some water in the kettle. She had only set it on the stove when he entered the house, of course, his arrival was punctuated by a loud bang of the door.

  “Rukia?” He called out, his expression was a little frantic, but immediately relaxed when she peered out from the kitchen.

  “Go! Get changed!” She chastised, because he was dirtying the entire floor with his wet self and muddy feet.

  “Renji!” She hissed again, threatening to hit him with a mop she had found leaning against the corner of the kitchen. He obliged with a mocking smile on his face.

  The water had just come to a boil when he re-entered the room, dressed in his signature white yukata with pink flowers. His luscious hair free from their usual confines, falling over his shoulders and beyond. The front of his Yukata was a little loose, exposing his chiselled chest and his tattoos peeking out. He had a towel drying the ends of his locks and Rukia felt herself swallow something. She wasn't blind. She was perfectly aware of his attractiveness. And even more so in the recent past years. His body conditioned itself well to accommodate his growing powers and blazing strength.

  She shook her head lightly to bring herself out of those thoughts.

  No matter what...he's Renji!

He was, he is and he'll always be.  

  Her hand adding the scented leaves in the steaming water in a precise amount. Being close to a captain who's as fond of tea as her Captain was, it just came to her as a second nature. Her brother too liked to have tea at some evenings with her. So she of course, was proficient in the art of brewing tea. And Renji commented positively over it.

  They were enjoying the warm tea in companionable silence. When loud thundering struck the sky Rukia was startled. She shivered slightly, but Renji noticed.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. I just... don't like thunderstorms.” she whispered, staring at the steam rising from her cup.

  There was rustle before a soft blanket was draped over her. At her surprised look, he gave her an easy smile.

  “I know.”

  Of course he does. He's always known her. Nobody would else knew her darkest desires and silliest fears but him. Settling beside her, he slipped his tea noisily again.

  “You should stay here for tonight.” He offered quite nonchalantly.

  “See. This is why I call you an idiot. An unmarried noblewoman cannot sleep in any man’s house like this!”

  She said haughtily, laughing inwardly at the absurdity of the entire situation. The rim of the cup tipped over her lips, the warm liquid seeping down her throat and the companionship of the person beside eased her.

  “What if her guardian allows that though?” he grinned.

  “Oh? I have a permit to sleep here? Who did that?” she asked inquisitively.

  “Your brother did.”

  She almost sputtered out her tea at that.

  “W-What?!’

  “Yup! Rememeber that note? He had asked me to take care of you if the weather goes bad.”

  Rukia felt overwhelmed by the concern her brother had for her ignoring when Renji whispered something along the lines of, “More like threatened me to.”

   That's when her eyes fell on a small trinket and she immediately recognised the Urahara watermark on it.

  “What's that?”

  He followed her gaze and smiled sheepishly.

  “Oh that? It's a good luck charm.”

  At her nonplussed look he laughed.

  “Ururu made it. And I couldn't refuse a child.”

  He smiled softly as if reminiscing and she giggled.

  “Oh yeah. They probably tricked you!”

  He shook his head in a gesture to say he didn't mind. And took another sip. And Rukia figured it the right time to ask him that question which has been nagging her for three days. Since her last visit to Karakura town.

  “You...you went to see Ichigo? Didn't you?”

  His stiffening was all the answer she needed. A wide silence passed between them. Stifling with uncertainty.

  “How did you-how did you know?”

  The hesitancy in his question swimmed between them. And Rukia decided to answer him honestly.

  “I met Orihime. Three days ago. She told me that she had sensed your reiatsu near Ichigo's home a week ago.”

  Another pause filled the conversation, something incredibly heavy circulating in the air.

  “Renji? Why?” She questioned again. He looked silent for a moment before exploding.

  “I didn't get to say him a proper goodbye! Heck, I didn't even wanted to say good bye! Why did we do this to him Rukia! Why did Soul Society do this to him! He shouldn't have even treated like that! Like as if...he was some sort of disposable!”

 He gripped the cup tightly enough which made Rukia think that he would actually shatter it.

  “Renji...Renji, look. Whatever Ichigo did, it was of his own accord. He knew what he was losing but he still did it. He knew the risks, the consequences. You can't blame others for his own decisions.”

  “Own decisions? Rukia. He had to fight Aizen because everyone else couldn't! Because some were too weak and others were too exhausted. He did not fight Aizen for the sake of fighting him. He did it to protect us, everyone! He had no other choice! He did it to protect Soul Society, Human world. Soul Society owes it to him for saving their asses time and time again. But what did they do?” He laughed bitterly.

  “They left him alone as if he didn't matter. At all.”

  “Renji…” Rukia pleaded. “It's for his own good.”

  A small moment of silence interrupted his triad and then he gave her a challenging, rueful smile.

  “Look into my eyes and say that again.”

  And she couldn't. She didn't. Because how can she when every word uttered out from his mouth resonated with her own convictions so strongly.

  “You know-” he bit out, his voice cracking, “I wanted to support him for as long as he lived and then welcome him into the Soul Society when the time finally comes. I thought I could be a part of his nakama and struggle through hardships together.”

  “Why?”

  Rukia begged, his every word overwhelming her even more. She was aware of his nature. Renji had always had this sense of strong loyalty to anyone he ever considers Nakama. But this raw devotion to Ichigo had shaken her up to the roots. It was strange but so unfathomably deep.

  “Because he...he was the one to bring us back together.”

  That one statement hung between them. His feelings for Ichigo...they were a product of his gratitude for bringing them back together? For her? To cross that unreachable distance between them? This discovery made her light headed. The air felt so suffocating that she stood up on shaky legs and opened the only yet large window of the room to breathe in the fresh air.

  Lightning streaked across the skies, violent flashes, and thunder boomed. Stray water droplets hit her face, sliding down, down and down. That abyss of untold feelings stretched between them, so weighted that she could barely hold upon but yet, it slipped and then crashed, loudly.

  “If you wanted us to be together so much, then why? Why did you let me go in the first place?”

  The silver of light ripped through the skies, illuminating everything around her in an eerie glow for a moment and a loud sound followed, punctuating her feelings with a deafening sound.

  His answer came in a while, voice so weary with tiredness that she had to turn back to look at him.

  “Then what else was I supposed to do? I thought, about how I could never give you the comforts they could offer you. The warmest, softest bed. The best silk to wear. The pretty gems to flaunt and the best thing meals that we've ever had the fortune of seeing. How could I be selfish enough to rob you of a future where you could have perfect three meals a day without the constanNo matter how hard I tried. No matter how many excuses I gave I couldn't bring to fool myself that yes, that would be our future. I know it's not enough, Rukia. I made a mistake. And I accept it too. And that is why, I'm grateful to Ichigo for correcting them for me.”

  Her vision clouded with tears when he finally stopped. Even back then, it was for her. She felt hurt and loved. He did it all for her. And the fact that he regretted it convinced her that - all was not lost. Not yet. They still had the chance.

  Yes, things can go back to the way they were before.

  “I'm sorry too, you know. I'm sorry that I didn't gather up enough courage for defiance. I didn't stood up for myself. For both you and me. A little step could have reduced the distance between us. But I didn't. I regret it too, so much.”

  The words and the tears, all came pouring out. She didn't know when he had gathered her in his large warm arms, but she remembered clutching the front of his Yukata and sobbing all the regret and pain that had accumulated for those past forty years. His embrace tightened even more but she felt nothing but that familiar sensation. The one which was etched on the canvas of her memories like how the blue of the sky did.

  A brush of chapped lips. A nose nuzzling dark midnight hair. A forehead left tingling. And loud squeak is all and little of what follows her thoughts.

  Loved writing it! And well, about Renji’s thoughts for Ichigo…I believe that his devotion for him in the last arc did not just appear out of nowhere. And of course, Renruki’s separation was something extremely important to be talked about as well. In fact that was the essence of the story! This was based on a headcanon that I and @salzrand talked about. thank you being patient with me!

 I would be very happy to know what you all think of this piece.

[empressofmankind]

Father - part 3/3: ‘Keener’

Fandom: Warhammer 40.000

Character/s: Magos Drusher, Interrogator Brooks, Inquisitor Genevieve Helve Allenbrisk, Inquisitor Gregor Eisenhorn, Lord-Inquisitor Tomàs de Torquemada-Coteaz (mentioned)

Location/s: Helter Fortress

Premises: An in-between chapter for the book ‘Magos’ which can be read between chapter 6 and 7. It functions as an introduction of the primary OCs Genevieve Allenbrisk and Cristine Brooks into the book setting. Third person but narrated from Drusher’s point of view. You can find part 1 over here and part 2 over here if you haven’t read them yet.

Mood: Odd but not too odd, like the chapters around it. Drusher is still trying to find his footing amid this new crowd.

Warnings: N/A

“I didn’t know you had remarried,” Drusher remarked then, in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

“Are you sure you were paying attention, Magos?” Allenbrisk remarked, again a smile playing around her lips as she swirled the content of her recaf tin. It sounded like a jest. She wasn’t wrong, he hadn’t exactly followed Imperial news. Her tone turned serious then. “There was a little tiff among the Lords Malleus at the time. They perennially forget that I am a person, and not of their Ordo at that.”

“I suppose I hadn’t, I’ve been rather focused on my taxonomy,” Drusher admitted. He could guess  what that ‘tiff’ had entailed. Coteaz had possessed wealth, material and otherwise: assets and knowledge plenty would be interested in having for themselves. He suspected every ambitious Inquisitorial bachelor of any sexes within astropathic earshot had made a move the minute the news broke. And, no doubt, they all considered Eisenhorn a poor choice. Drusher didn’t particularly disagree. The contrast between her late husband and current one was stark. He’d read an article once, in the Proceedings of the Terran Academy of Sciences, that had investigated trauma coping mechanisms of veteran Imperial Guardsmen and -women. It had shown some coped by purposefully seeking out the opposite. He recalled then that Brooks had implied Coteaz had fallen in battle. Slain by a daemon, she’d said. Had Allenbrisk been there? Drusher suppressed a shudder.

“It was a quiet event, with friends,” Allenbrisk said. “There was little coverage, even within the Scarus sector.” Her smile deepened as her gaze became distant. “Which was as we wanted it.”

Drusher observed her for a moment. She seemed lost in thought. “I recall the news from the Crusades though they were vague at the time. It must have been a blow to the Formosa sector, your late husband was popular for someone in your line of work.”

Inquisitor Allenbrisk’s gaze snapped back to the present and focused, swift as a hawk, on Drusher when he spoke up. Her expression settled back into pleasant neutrality a beat later. “My colleagues in the Ordo Malleus often are,” she agreed, her hands around her recaf mug, fingers laced. “Internal prosecution is rife with points of view. Even against the Xenos, there is leeway for perspective. But Daemons? It’s ever crystal clear who is in the right there.”

“It attracts an uncompromising mentality,” Drusher ventured. “A lack of nuance.”

“Does it?” she wondered. “Or does the Warp simply weed out those inclined to listen.”

That was an excellent point. “Perhaps, a combination of both? It’s often thus in nature, where a particular niche both attracts and hones a particular species.”

“They certainly thrive,” she added, a hint of exasperation in her tone. Drusher wasn’t sure if it was on account of the boisterous flamboyance of her colleagues or their conversation. “I imagine if someone made a study of it, you could turn out to be quite correct, Magos.”

Drusher felt flattered despite himself. After Inquisitor Eisenhorn’s condescending manner, it was nice to have his input valued for its own merit.

“Compared to the other Ordos Majoris, the Malleus ethos seems straight forward, sensible and ever justified. Their wars are grand against great enemies, the stuff normally reserved for Astartes legends. They place these feats closer to home, within the realm of possibility for you and I. You can go your entire life without ever having learned the name of any one from my Ordo, and the few that have no doubt  consider anyone who avoided it lucky, but I am willing to bet almost everyone can name at least one Lord of the Ordo Malleus because they’ve recently seen them on a news vid.” She smiled fondly, as if at a pleasant memory. “My late husband was successful, not only because he had no wish to rule, but because he was charismatic and he knew how to show it in front of a vidcaster.”

“That sounds an awful lot like manipulation,” Drusher frowned.

“We manipulate our environment and each other every minute of our lives, Magos. You, more than most people, I would expect to be aware of that,” she remarked. A curious expression momentarily replaced her perpetual smile. “Unless we stop and think about it, we rarely realize how much so.”

“I suppose I am? You seem well aware of it in yourself, and in those around you,” Drusher considered. His mind wandered back to his exchange with Eisenhorn. And the fleeting intimacy he'd glimpsed between the inquisitors. For every action, a reaction.

“It is my job to be aware of these things, Magos.” Her smile had returned. “They are the threads that weave the purpose of peoples’ actions.”

“Are all of your actions deliberate?” Drusher asked before he could quite stop himself. He adjusted his glasses as he glanced away.

“Aren’t yours?” Her expression was kind but unreadable. “Even actions that may seem unintentional have an underlying purpose. Even actions that may seem spontaneous have a design. Whether or not you’re conscious of them is a matter of training, not sincerity.”

Drusher considered her words. They seemed reasonable though their deterministic undercurrent didn’t agree with him.

“You do not bring peace to an entire sector with good intentions alone. You have to have a friendly smile,” Allenbrisk continued. Though she seemed amused, Drusher didn’t think she was joking. “No matter how pure your intentions, how selfless your plans, if people don’t like you, they won’t let you. People don’t want to be told they’re safe, they want to be reassured they are safe.”

Drusher nodded. There was truth to it. You needed people's trust. And yet, charisma was the tool of saints and tyrants alike. There was power there, immense power.

“As human beings, we like to think we know what we are doing. But as inquisitors, we have to know with absolute certainty. Not just our own lives but often the fate of a community, whole hives, entire planets even, depend on us being able to oversee the consequences of actions.”

“I don’t think I could do it,” Drusher said. There was too much responsibility there for his liking. Too much depending on him making the right call. It was not a skill he was known for.

“Few can and plenty who think they can, fail.” She indicated herself. “It is why I have to do what I do.” Drusher frowned but then recalled Brooks had said her mother hunted and prosecuted colleagues that had broken doctrine. It put the damper right back on their pleasant conversation. Her smile deepened as her gaze drifted away from him. “I admit Tomàs had flair, he was in his element at the forefront of a battle line as much as in front of a crowd. I have found it’s common among Formosa’s people.”

Drusher smiled wryly. “I suppose people want to be entertained, almost as much as they want to be reassured.”

“Certainly those who believe danger to be far from their home,” she replied as her smile evaporated. She frowned and took a sip of recaf.

Drusher wondered how the Formosa sector fared these days. “Who holds the seat now?”

“Someone else,” she replied rather curtly. “The good men do is often interred with their bones.”

He presumed that to mean she didn't approve of whomever currently held his or her wing over the sector. “Did you not wish to continue his work?” She had sounded so involved to Drusher, he’d thought she’d have built upon her late husband’s legacy.

Her nose wrinkled at his comment and for a moment he feared he’d offended her, their pleasant conversation forfeit. “It’s his life work, Magos, not mine,” was her resolute answer.

“You speak as if he might yet walk among us,” Drusher observed. He regretted his words when the sadness returned to her eyes, her gaze distant once more.

She laid her hand across the medallion resting on her chest. It was  a St. Aquilina’s cross, finely rendered, similar in size to the episcopal Aquila bishops wore. “He ever walks with me, Magos.”

“Miss Brooks seems very dedicated, too,” Drusher remarked. The young woman had wasted no time impressing this upon Drusher with her meticulous information on her parents.

“That she is,” Allenbrisk agreed.

“May I ask what her precise function is within your, hum, work method?” Drusher asked as he drank his recaf. He looked at the few gulps left to him and wondered if she might offer him another or if their conversation would be finished along with his recaf. Despite everything, he realized he enjoyed her company.

“Think of her as an Interweb query engine,” Allenbrisk said.

Drusher frowned. “The information retrieval algorithms of the Galaxy Wide Web, you mean?” Drusher returned. It was a curious analogue to make.

Allenbrisk nodded. “Just so. I ask her a query and she retrieves it from her mental storage, sorted to probable relevancy.”

“That sounds very useful,” Drusher observed. And a little implausible, even for a savant-child, he thought. Perhaps the analogue was an oversimplification, he doubted any human being had the mental capacity to rival a logic engine. However, he could see how even an approximation would be immensely useful when you frequent low-tech planets without access to the Intergalactic Imperial Net or when you didn't want to leave any signs of digital presence that accessing it might leave.

“It is,” Allenbrisk agreed. “Brooks retains everything she reads and can reproduce it verbatim, including source and document statistics, if necessary. The more she reads, the better she can aid my investigations with knowledge that would be impossible for me to otherwise have at my immediate disposal. She is a young but very talented savant. And a sweet child.” The last sentence held an all but tangible threat as to what would happen if someone would harm her.

Drusher made a mental note to not get in the girl’s way. He had no wish to find out what her mother considered ‘harm’ nor how offenders would be dealt with. They were silent for a few minutes as they drank the last of their recaf. Drusher tried to process everything he’d learned - far more than he’d thought. It was good to know the two Inquisitors’ definition of ‘classified’ seemed to differ.

“Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to humor me,” Drusher commented at last. It felt prudent to make sure she knew he appreciated their conversation. He’d remembered he’d interrupted her private lunch with Inquisitor Eisenhorn. He had no idea how often they made time for that. Not often, he imagined. No doubt due to Eisenhorn. “I didn’t think you would answer any of my questions, Inquisitor Eisenhorn certainly didn’t.”

A smile returned to her face at his words. “Gregor has never been keen on strangers.”

“So it certainly seems,” Drusher agreed. “May I ask how did you meet?”

Allenbrisk chuckled, quite amused. “Now thát,” she said. “Is classified.”

Drusher flinched but recovered. It was entirely possible that Eisenhorn had told her. He was tired and it was beginning to affect him.

There was a knock at the study’s door then. “Do enter,” Allenbrisk called. The door promptly opened and Drusher flinched again. He’d expected Eisenhorn but that wasn’t who stood in the door opening. Instead, it was filled out by an immensely tall man in thickly plated armour. His head clean shaven and his eyes a wintery grey amid hawkish features. Text was tattooed on the right side of his face, scripture by the look of it. Drusher realised he must be looking at an Astartes. He fancied that, in passing, he possessed a similarity to Eisenhorn. It was ridiculous, of course, but he could see it if he squinted just so.

The Astartes beheld Drusher for a moment, pursed his lips and ignored him, turning to Allenbrisk. “Inquisitor.”

“Adeodatus, I apologise, I’ve not been mindful of the time,” Allenbrisk said as she rose. “Allow me to briefly introduce you.”

Both Astartes and Inquisitor turned their attention on Drusher and he wanted to sink into the floorboards, the urge to flee visceral and real.

“Magos Drusher, this is Chaplain Adeodatus of the Angels Palatine”.

The Astartes didn’t deign to respond and instead levelled a gaze on Drusher that felt like an attempt to skewer his soul.

“Its an honour,” Drusher said with a quick bow. Was that what you said when meeting one of the Legionnes Astartes? He hoped that’s what you said.

The Chaplain’s gaze didn’t waver. In fact, Drusher didn’t think he’d blinked since looking at him. Creepy.

“I must leave you, Magos,” Allenbrisk excused herself. “It’s time for midday observances.” She smiled then. “Past time, even.”

Drusher nodded. He hadn’t a clue what to say in parting. The Chaplain was already out the door. Allenbrisk moved to follow. “Why did you remarry?” he blurted.

She halted, pausing on the threshold. “I care about him, Magos,” she said as she glanced back at him across her shoulder. “Is that so hard to imagine?”

Drusher was silent for a moment. “Yes, actually.”

[owlways-and-forever]

Summary: The Marauders are getting older, and that means so many things. Mischief, heartbreak, and trying to figure out who they really are. They’ll face problems within their group, prove their loyalty to each other, and discover the ugliness that is brewing in the wizarding world at large. Welcome to Years 2-4 of the Marauders time at Hogwarts. **This piece is a sequel to Behind the Mango Tree, however, you do not have to have read the first installment to pick this up. It does stand alone, but there is some carry over from the last book, especially with inter-character relationships. Basically, you don’t have to have read BtMT, but it certainly helps. Word Count: (2,136) 22,361 Links: FFnet | ao3 | tumblr: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6

A/N: The best laid plans, am I right? I sincerely apologize for the long delay here, its been a lot of one thing after another. Between moving, and traveling, my computer breaking, and some family news, things have been a little bit crazy. I finally finished the next chapter today, but I didn't want to make you guys wait any longer (it's been long enough). So looking forward... the next chapter is almost done, but I'm going to wait until next Wednesday to post it, to give myself time to edit and stuff. So next chapter on 4/10. Depending on how things look next Wednesday, I'm going to make a decision as to whether or not to keep this weekly, or switch to every other week. I hate keeping you guys waiting, but I want to make sure I have adequate time to write these chapters properly. But, like I said, we'll see how things look next week.

As always, comments are always welcome, and very much appreciated (even if it's just one word), so please let me know what you're thinking!

Now that that's settled, I don't really have any other notes for this chapter, so enjoy, and I hope you like it!

Chapter 7: Peter’s Plan

November rolled around bringing with it a plague of scorch throat, and Sirius was delighted when he came down with it right around the full moon. He might not be able to be with Remus while he transformed, but at least Sirius could be with him while he recovered in the hospital wing. He tried to make Remus laugh by exhaling flames with every word he spoke, hiding the winces each time he felt the burn tear through his throat. It was worth it to see even the most fleeting of smiles on his friend’s face.

That month, the full moon was worse than it had been before, and Remus had been sick the whole day leading up to it. He’d woken in the middle of the night vomiting from the pain, and he had rushed to the hospital wing, settling in the bed next to Sirius until sunset.

“I wish there was something we could do to make Remus feel better,” James sighed as he and Peter trudged through the chilly halls to class.

“We try to help him get better as much as we can,” Peter answered, sadness passing over his face despite his words. “And we help him with homework and notes and stuff so he doesn’t fall behind.”

“I know, I just... those transformations must be bloody awful, and I wish there was something we could do to make them easier,” James said.

“What happens if he bites an animal while he’s transformed?” Peter asked, an idea nipping at the edge of his mind.

“Nothing,” James answered with a shrug. “Well, not nothing, but they don’t get, you know, infected.”

“So animals can’t become werewolves?” Peter clarified, chewing on his cheek slightly.

“No, only humans,” James said, Peter’s line of questioning lost on him.

“What do you think would happen if he bit a person who was transfigured into an animal?” Peter continued, not entirely sure about what he was suggesting.

“Dunno,” James said, cocking his head to one side. “Why? What are you thinking?”

“Well, just that, if animals are immune to lycanthropy, and wizards take on all the traits of animals when they... morph into them or whatever... well would that mean that they couldn’t be infected while they were in animal form?”

Peter looked nervous as he asked the question, as if concerned that James would laugh and say he was being ridiculous.

“I’m not sure,” James answered. “No one really knows how much you change. But I think... I don’t think so, I mean they’re still human, right? You don’t really turn into the animal, you just take their form. But genetically, you’d still be human, so I think you could be infected.”

“But what if you can’t though?” Peter pushed, feeling a little more confident in his idea.

“Well, it’d still be pretty risky,” James said. “I mean, werewolves are still pretty lethal, you could still get mauled or eaten or something.”

“Yeah, but maybe not,” Peter proposed, a bright glint in his eye.

They had reached the door of the Charms classroom, and the two boys ducked inside, filing into their seats. Peter mulled things over in his mind as the class continued, unable to focus on their lesson about Cheering Charms.

About halfway through the class, Professor Flitwick asked a question that Peter didn’t hear. Lily’s hand shot into the air, and Peter watched as James reached up from his seat next to her and slapped her palm in a hard high-five. Lily let out an annoyed huff, but she didn’t acknowledge James’ action in any other way, her hand never wavering. James grinned happily and leaned back in his chair, pushing the front two feet up into the air slightly.

“You are a complete arse, Potter,” Lily hissed, after she had answered Professor Flitwick’s question, the satisfied smile slipping from her face.

“C’mon, Evans, you know I’m charming,” James smirked, and she rolled her eyes in response.

The rest of the class, and the day, passed in a bit of a blur. Peter felt unfocused, his mind drifting away at every opportunity, and he couldn’t have brought it back if his life depended on it. As he went through the motions of going to class, eating dinner, even visiting Sirius, Peter’s thoughts kept returning to Remus, trying to piece together a way to help him.

Once the other Gryffindor boys had all fallen asleep, a chorus of snores echoing from James, Lance, and Firmin’s beds, Peter decided he had to have an answer to the question burning in his heart. He leaned over and grabbed a pair of socks from his trunk, sliding them off his feet, and then slipped silently through the dormitory. It must have been later than he realized, as the common room was nearly empty, and the few students who were there paid no attention to Peter as he snuck through the portrait hole.

“Going somewhere?” the Fat Lady asked, as the portrait closed behind Peter.

“I need to see Professor McGonagall,” he squeaked in surprise.

“You’d better hope that no one else finds you along the way,” she answered, giving him a curious look.

Peter didn’t wait to find out what her expression meant, turning on his heel and walking quickly down the hall. He reached the door of Professor McGonagall’s office without incident, and he took a deep breath as he raised a small fist to knock on the ancient wood.

It was a long moment before the door opened, Professor McGonagall standing on the other side in a tartan dressing gown. Peter had a flurry of nerves as he saw her, suddenly wondering why he hadn’t just waited until morning to do this.

“What are you doing out of bed so late, Mr. Pettigrew?” Professor McGonagall asked, as she looked at the young boy in front of her.

“Professor, you know how on our first day of class in first year you turned into a cat and back?” Peter said, shuffling his feet nervously.

“Yes, Mr. Pettigrew, I vaguely remember,” she answered dryly.

“What’s that called again?”

“An animagus, Mr. Pettigrew, you ought to pay better attention,” she chided, although she was not surprised. First years were almost always too nervous or excited to pay much attention on the first day of school. Those with nonmagical upbringings hardly ever remembered anything about animagi until they began to cover it much later on.

“Right, well, I was wondering... if a werewolf bit an animagus while they were an animal, would they become a werewolf too?” Peter asked, trying to seem as casual as possible.

“Why do you ask?” She raised an eyebrow at him, immediately suspicious of his question.

“I was... reading about werewolves and it said only people can be affected.”

Professor McGonagall seemed surprised that he had retained this information, or indeed been reading about anything academic other than the passages that his coursework dictated.

“You were reading about werewolves?” she clarified. “A topic which is somewhat beyond your current education level?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Mr. Pettigrew, if you think –“

“I don’t,” Peter said hurriedly. “And if I did I wouldn’t tell a soul. It wouldn’t be right. But I don’t. It’s just a... a hobby. An interest.”

“Well, Mr. Pettigrew, I must assure you that you are quite safe from werewolf attacks, and needn’t worry –“

“I’m not worried, Professor, I was just curious... it must be lonely for them...” he explained, lost in his thoughts for a moment.

“Since I see very few instances of curiosity from you, Mr. Pettigrew, I feel inclined to encourage it by answering your question, but only if you stop interrupting me,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. “I do not believe that a wizard, bitten while in his or her animagus form, would be inflicted with lycanthropy, no. They are, physically, the animal they appear to be, with its traits, including, I believe, immunity from lycanthropy. Of course, no study has ever been performed on the subject. It would be incredibly dangerous, and as such, not many would volunteer for it.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Peter said sincerely, turning to leave her office.

Professor McGonagall watched him go, his words sticking in her mind, and she considered the young Gryffindor currently alone in the Shrieking Shack. Peter had a point, Minerva couldn’t even imagine how terrifying it had to be, transforming into something so wild and uncontrollable, doing so alone. In an instant, she knew what she had to do.

Minerva left her office, pulling her warm, tartan cloak from its place on the coat rack and wrapping it around her shoulders as she moved. She swept through the halls of the empty castle, until she stepped into the night air. A gentle rain was falling, giving the autumn air an extra bite. The moon was full overhead, visible mostly as a hazy glow through the cloud cover.

“Lumos,” she whispered, the tip of her wand igniting, lighting her path.

Minerva strode through the grounds until she found the Whomping Willow. With a wave of her wand, a branch on the ground transformed into a snake and slithered to the base of the tree, pressing a knot in the trunk with its tail. Immediately, the branches of the tree stilled, and Minerva was able to step closer.

There was a small opening between the willow’s roots, which Minerva knew led to a dank passage. She closed her eyes and focused on her transformation, a moment later finding herself in feline form. Quickly, she trotted through the stilled branches and down into the tunnel. It was a long trek, particularly as a cat, but it was easier than being hunched over.

Some twenty minutes later, Minerva felt the ground slope upwards beneath her paws, and she emerged into the creaking entryway of the Shrieking Shack. She could hear snarling from above, footsteps pacing back and forth. Long nails clicked against the wood, and a loud growl accompanied a crash.

Carefully, Minerva padded across the floor and up the stairs, soft creaks issuing from beneath her paws. When she reached the landing, she could see the werewolf pacing through the gap in the doorway, his claws reaching to destroy any furniture he could find. Minerva sat in the doorway, watching for a moment.

Softly, she meowed, getting his attention. Remus. His yellow eyes fixed on her, and for a moment his lips curled up to show his teeth, a deep rumbling echoing in his chest, but then he paused. A hint of recognition seemed to cross his face, and his muscles relaxed a little.

Remus returned to pacing the room, but he seemed less frantic, less agitated. After he passed by her for the third time, Remus stopped in front of Minerva, staring at her, and growled lightly. But it was more of a conversation than a threat, like he was trying to tell her how frustrated he felt, how angry, how scared.

They spent a few hours this way, in passing conversation of sorts, before Remus curled up on the floor, huffing heavily. Minerva crept closer to him and leapt onto the sole in tact chair, curling up herself. She meowed softly once more and watched Remus close his eyes, watching over him as he drifted off.

[rejectedembers]

Firebrant: Shades of Magic

So, here I go again, being a hypercritical bitch about a beloved book, or, rather, series. I want to make it clear right off the bat that I LOVE this series; I love the characters, I love the setting, I love the writing. I’d read this series again in a heartbeat, and no doubt eventually will. That doesn’t mean that I don’t see its flaws and weaknesses, or at least see what it could have been.

Spoilers inbound.

Without a doubt, this series’s biggest strength is its characters. I would even venture out in saying that Schwab doesn’t write characters, but rather people for how real they feel. A big part of this stems from her enchanting, but not overly flowery style of writing; descriptions never overstay their welcome. But these are all things you discover the more you read. The series’s major draw, however, is its setting, or at least that’s what the premise would have you believe.

The blurb on A Darker Shade of Magic immediately informs you of the parallel Londons (Red, Grey, White, and Black), and how only Antari can travel between the worlds. My assumption upon picking up this novel was that the inter-dimensional travel was going to play a significant part in the upcoming tale, and it does...for the first book. But once you get into book 2, characters seem to barely ever travel between the worlds. 

This is especially noticeable in the third book where I don’t think they traveled outside of the Red world at all to resolve the main conflict within the plot. Traveling could have easily been facilitated without even changing much of the plot: the MacGuffin the protags are after could totally have wound up in one of the other worlds at some point in time (I’ll elaborate more on this later). It’s especially annoying since we get constant reminders via Ned’s chapters of how Osaron’s magic seems to be seeping into the other worlds. It’s like Schwab is dangling the possibility of going there in our faces only to never deliver on this promise.

Honestly, the big problem here is simply a lack of world-building. When Schwab does spend time describing even the small, insignificant parts of everyday life, the setting really comes to life. I had very little difficulty imagining all of the Londons despite the fact that I’ve never even been to a single London in my own reality. But after establishing these settings in the first book, Schwab rarely returns to world-building from the perspective of the past. Events and characters become very grounded in the present, and even in flashbacks the focus is generally on the characters and what they were experiencing internally. The Red, White, and even Black worlds start to feel like there just isn’t much history to them, when that can’t possibly be true. And while I agree that it would have been rather tedious to sit through pages and pages of a character expounding on the “grand history of Arnes” or something of the like, there is something in particular that irks me when it comes to the lack of history.

The Antari play such a large role in the series, and yet after everything is said and done, you don’t actually get to know all that much about them. You get to know tonnes about the Antari characters, but almost nothing of the Antari themselves, their culture, their historical roles. Granted, part of the appeal of the Antari is that even they can’t answer what they really are, where their powers came from, why they were chosen, but how Antari come to be and what they decide to do with themselves afterwards are two entirely different groups of questions. It’s mentioned that there were once dozens if not hundreds of Antari prior to the catastrophe that happened in Black London. I find it hard to believe that, even if they each had their own loyalties, some of them wouldn’t have come together to create a unique culture. Even, at least, something more or less academic, trying to find answers to the question of how Antari come to be. 

I was really disappointed to find that the lore of the Antari was never expanded upon. More information on the Antari could have provided a lot of substance to many different areas of the story. The Antari characters could have learnt something about themselves while delving deeper into the mysteries of their predecessors, the concept of a culture of inter-dimensional travelers opens up more opportunities to include traveling in the story, and the plot could have received some much needed resolution for several key questions (I’ll expand on this later, too). 

This leads us to the overarching plot of books 2 and 3, easily the weakest part of the series. I love a good “save the world” plot as much as the next fantasy junkie, but I feel like it was just tackled lazily here: some evil force shows up, threatening to destroy all that the characters love, and they are the only ones who can defeat it. Other than that, there’s not much else to say about the main conflict, no twists or turns in the structure that keep you on your toes. A large chunk of the time was just waiting for the characters to find a solution they can start working on so they can finally have something to do. 

It doesn’t help that Osaron is one of the least compelling villains I’ve read about recently. I feel that Schwab was aiming to make him both a threatening, alien force unable to be reasoned with or properly comprehended by mortals, and a relatable human-ish being with desires and personality. I find him to be a failure on both ends, since the addition of some aspect of humanity completely destroys the image of him as an imposing, unbeatable entity, and he never reaches a level of depth and complexity that the human characters do, making him seem more like a caricature of a villainous person than anything. And this comes in stark contrast to Athos and Astrid, the villains from the first book, although you don’t even know they are the true villains until at least halfway into the novel. They were quite compelling for how they were very human and yet very, very twisted, and I really wished there had been more with them, especially for how they could have contrasted with Holland, showing us what White London is versus what it could be. Obviously, Athos still would have had to die, but it would have been interesting to see Astrid try for revenge or something of the like.

All in all, I don’t think the structure of the series helped. The first book very much feels like a standalone; one or two elements don’t get completely solved, but I also don’t think it was necessary to have seen them get resolved to have still had a full story experience. And while the first book provides set up, the plot of A Darker Shade of Magic feels entirely separate from the plot of A Gathering of Shadows and A Conjuring of Light, and because of this, the entire series feels stilted. Books 2 and 3 are so intertwined they might as well be one book, but the jump from book 1 to 2 is downright jarring in comparison. To be honest, I prefer the jump from 1 to 2 over 2 to 3, but considered as a whole, the lack of a continuous plot through all three books (or the lack of dedication to a series of single book adventures) definitely makes it seem like Schwab only intended to write one book but somehow came out with three.

In general, I would have liked to see a story that had an overarching plot, but included smaller moments of drama and adventure within. The characters are what really make this series stand out, and they shine the brightest when they interact with each other. They needed more time together, conversing and taking part in some action, solving problems together. Setting up almost episodic mini-arcs would have provided a good platform for this.

When it comes to leaving the main plot (mostly) intact, the ending could have been a bit more like this. Lenos could have known of an Inheritor due to his Antari grandmother, and, through tracing its path, they discover that she smuggled it to one of the other worlds (providing a little validation for Kell). Thus, our three Antari travel to either White or Grey London (perhaps Lenos’s grandmother sent it somewhere it could do no harm), and take part in their own little adventure to retrieve it. This would also provide an ideal chance to have them discover and learn from each other and/or their surroundings something about Antari history and culture. Meanwhile, Alucard stays behind with Rhy, and the two discuss what happened in the past (I’m not sure it’s ever explained why Alucard can’t just tell Rhy the truth. Is there a reason why Rhy may not believe him without proof? Seriously, it bugged me how they just never talked it out.). Rhy forgives him either then or later, and Alucard should have a moment where we see him protecting Rhy, making Rhy’s choice later on to have Alucard be an official protector make more sense, especially politically since there would have been witnesses. The three Antari eventually return, and execute their attack (or still have to travel to the ship market since maybe the Inheritor got smuggled around again). The point is the majority of the time spent mostly just sitting around the palace struggling to find a solution would be cut out, or relegated to some much more concise Rhy/Alucard chapters.

There are a few other disappointments I had with the series. Ojka, while an interesting character, is never really given much to do, a moment to shine. Most of the chapters involving her feature her internal thoughts about Holland and what he’s done, but not what she’s done. It feels like she was built up to be and do more, and so is far too quickly killed off. 

I’m also disappointed that there wasn’t some deeper connection revealed between Osaron and the Antari. I really got the sense after A Darker Shade of Magic that there was something about the Antari specifically that resulted in Vitari not being able to immediately take over their minds and bodies, something more than just “they are extra magical and thus extra magically resistant”. Once I got a bit into A Gathering of Shadows, I theorized that everything from Black London, including stones, was a piece of Osaron via his magic, and that Vitari was just a branch of Osaron’s consciousness. Thus, whatever special connection Vitari had to the Antari also applied to Osaron. 

After more solid evidence was given to suggest Delilah was Antari, I came up with a more fully-fledged theory: Osaron was to be the Black London Antari, or at least used to be one prior to absorbing all of the Black world’s magic. This would check out with the general pattern that was emerging: one Antari from each of the worlds. It also made sense logically as only an Antari should have been capable of whatever magic resulted in Osaron claiming it all in his own world. Not to mention this would explain the relative lack of/access to knowledge on the Antari; one of their own practically destroyed an entire reality, and they would not want that happening again. The magic, thus, that connected Osaron/Vitari to the Antari was more than just power, but some mystical tie that exists between Antari. Obviously, this is not what happened at all.

I have a few other, smaller nitpicks. I really wanted to see Kell and Alucard face off in the tournament just to experience the absolute bitterness that would be Kell after being forced to throw the match or else be caught. This would have contrasted well in a later scene of Kell and Alucard fighting side-by-side and discovering that they work well together. I also wanted to see more adventures aboard the Night Spire. It could have been more removed from London, or at least on the outskirts and so available to the group. In any case, the ship got a lot of play early on and build up in general for something much bigger, and for it to pretty much never come back in the main plot was disappointing. Pretty much everything with Ned and King George the IV was a waste of time. I was really hoping that that subplot would go somewhere if only to allow for some inter-dimensional traveling, but unfortunately not. I’m not a fan, either, of the decision to make the series rather dark and depressing by the third book. I understand that the situation was meant to be dire and “real” and adult, but it started to feel cheap once characters just started getting killed off left and right. 

Also, while I feel that the characters were very well-written, there is one thing concerning Kell that has bugged me since the end of the first book: he never seems to feel any real guilt over sending Holland to Black London. Admittedly, Holland was the aggressor, and so I can see Kell not feeling overly guilty about besting him and pretty much killing him in their last duel, but Kell is an Antari and he knows that they heal faster than most and can recover from some otherwise pretty nasty injuries. So, it kind of baffles me that his excuse for why it’s alright that he sends Holland to Black London is because Kell’s sure the other Antari is going to die anyways. Holland did end up recovering, so I just feel that maybe Kell should have known better than to assume. 

In any case, Kell’s never really forced to confront any guilt over the fact that the whole situation is entirely his fault even if it was simply a chain of consequences from one unfortunate choice. The closest we get is that he, eventually, sympathizes with Holland and the poor treatment he’s getting from everyone, because, had he given in at the end of book 2, Osaron would have used his body to get to Red London. If anything, though, this consequence didn’t feel like a result of a decision Kell made, but rather one that Holland made when he first found Osaron in Black London. The reason for Kell’s guilt or regret should come from the decision he made back in book 1 to send Holland to Black London, but there’s never get a good scene of him mulling over this fact, or even approaching Holland about it in a meaningful way. There’s also, that I can remember, no mention of Kell ever feeling that he should be completely responsible for finding a solution to the situation he inadvertently caused. Even if he never vocalizes it, or tries to go out on his own, he just never even thinks about it, and I just find it so incredibly odd that a character like Kell never feels the depth of that guilt either towards Holland or the entirety of Red London.

So, that’s all I have to say on this series, I hope. I do really love this series. It captured me from the onset, and even as I sat there with a critique starting to form in my brain, I couldn’t help but want to read more, for it to go on forever. My complaints are largely things I’ve noticed in retrospect, and aren’t about to deter me from picking up these books again. The Shades of Magic series deserves all the praise it gets, and I hope this rant doesn’t deter anyone from loving it any less.

[petiteredlady]

End of the year 2.5D Butai/Musical Asks

I found that allyyyyy0619 made an “End of the year 2.5D Butai/Musical Asks” list, and it looked fun and interesting, so I wanted to do it. Some questions were challenging, but I liked answering !

1. Firstly, how did you manage to find out about 2.5D butai/musical? Which butai/musical was your first and your impression of it? In 2003-2004 a friend was studying in Japan. Being a Prince of Tennis fan, she discovered Tenimyu, and showed me her DVDs ! I think the very first I saw was the Dream Live 1st, and then I saw them mostly in chronological order. After that there were Bleach musicals, Hunter x Hunter, and by Air Gear I realised that adapting things into musicals was a thing. (Somehow I only learned about Sailor Moon later O_O)

For my impression of the first Dream Live : what the fuck. Just what the fuck XD I loved it because it was just so funny, but so many actors couldn't sing very well, the plot(?) was insane and several people were just OOC... but it was really fun and I liked it.

2. Who was your first favourite 2.5D actor/actress? Why? Hm... It was probably Takigawa Eiji, because I remember debating whether or not to buy his idol DVD^^" I'm not sure why, because he wasn't a good singer at the time... I guess his charisma alone was enough ? XD He made me laugh as Tezuka (despite actually playing him well), was pretty good-looking and he seemed like such a nice person IRL. (Unfortunately at the time I didn't find anything else he had played in so the "favourite" thing ended at me just really liking him...)

3. Top 3 (or more) favourite butai of the year? I haven't actually seen that many stage plays because I usually prefer musicals XD If I'm not mistaken, I've seen six stage plays this year so.... yeah.

1) Tsumuru Ookami Kuroki Kamo, without a doubt. Probably the best stage play I've ever seen. The staging was amazing, transitions were smooth and clever and easy to follow, I loved the music, I loved the costumes, the characters were amazing (even those I hated)(looking at you Shinpachi), and the story pushed so many of my buttons it's ridiculous. But even objectively, I think it's a really, really good stage play. 2) Yowamushi Pedal Shin Inter-High hen - Heat Up. I had only watched one other YowaPeda stage play so I didn't really know what to expect, but MY GOD. For a stage that had neither my favourite character nor my favourite actors, it was amazing. I loved the staging : everything was very dynamic, the amovible stairs were very cleverly used, and wow you really think they're pedalling. The acting was great and it was really funny, plus there were more songs than I expected ! 3) Haikyuu!! The Summer of Evolution. I wasn't fond of the first stage play and hadn't seen another, so I didn't expect to like it, but wow they have improved SO MUCH. The different choregraphies, for playing and dancing, were insane. I love their use of music to represent different techniques and formations. I really liked the acting. What I liked less was all the yelling, talking at the speed of light and everybody talking at the same time +_+ Like, please people, live Japanese is hard enough as it is XD

4. Top 3 (or more) least favourite butai of the year? By default they're going to be the other three I've seen XD It doesn't mean I didn't like them, but I liked them less and it wouldn't be fair to not answer this question.

1) Mononofu Shiroki Tora. I still liked it because it dealed with a lot of subjects that are dear to me, but honestly it was so confusing +_+ I really had a hard time understanding what was the present and what was the past, and which side the background characters were on. There were several characters I didn't connect with at all, too. It was still funny and horribly sad, but after watching it I just wasn't convinced. (Which is why I waited months before watching Tsumuru Ookami Kuroki Kamo.) 2) Messiah - Yuukyuu no Toki. The best stage play that came out of the new Messiah series. I wrote my impressions after watching it, but to summarise : there are still too many characters, too many plots at the same time, and I'm tired of people being related for no reason. I also thought the whole issue with Ariga and Itsuki was very dumb. But at least Yuukyuu focused more on its characters than Akatsuki, so I ended up liking them more. And returning characters were less OOC in my opinion. And my goodness, action scenes were great. 3) Messiah - Akatsuki no Toki. I was so excited for it and was terribly betrayed. There were a thousand ways to deal with Hirose Daisuke's absence, and they went with an insane plot so far-fatched I can't bring myself to take it seriously. I found the characters very, very OOC and didn't connect with or care for any of them. The new kouhai were not at all what I expected and I found them cringy at best. There are very few things I liked. Mostly the relationship between Ariga and Itsuki <3 I sort of squeed when Ariga called Itsuki by his name, and then at the end Itsuki did the same and it was cute and adorable.

(Messiah has been a letdown this year, it's pretty sad...)

5. Top 3 (or more) favourite musical of the year? I've watched a lot more musicals so this is going to be really hard XD (But I'm not doing more than 3. Ranking things is hard enough like that.)

1) Ribbon no Kishi (2015 version). It blew my mind when I didn't expect it O_O I was watching it for Aoki Tsunenori, but everyone was just so, so good. THE SONGS. MY GOD. ALL OF THE SONGS ARE GREAT, ALL OF THEM, AND EVERYONE SINGS SO WELL !!! The women especially had amazing voices. Everyone played they roles so well, with some being so very over-the-top and kitsch. I loved it. And this is part of being Ribbon no Kishi, but I loved the costumes and the fairy tale atmosphere that was very positive. I have issues with the story, but honestly that's not why I was watching it, so all in all it was a great experience. 2) Sailor Moon - Le Mouvement Final. JUST. AMAZING. Everyone was so pretty and cool and talented, the costumes were full of glitter, and the singing and acting really touched me <3 I may not be 100 % objective because I've loved Sailor Moon since I was a little girl and the last arc always makes me very emotional, but still. The transformations were great, the light effects were really cool, the music was good and all the actresse were amazing. If it hadn't been the last day of the performance I'd have tried to get another ticket... 3) Patalliro!. They don't call it a musical since they're lip-syncing on stage, but as a viewer the experience is basically the same so I've decided it counts. I had read a bit of the manga and watched a bit of the anime to have some context, and it really helped me understand some scenes. What I found most amazing is that the musical looks good while keeping all the weirdness from the manga XD They all acted so well, and managed to create a great story with very few characters. I liked that everything, from characters expressions to every plot point, was very over-the-top and dramatic XD I laughed a LOT. And the songs were really good and catchy. I liked it way more than I expected !

6. Top 3 (or more) least favourite musical of the year? Once again : it doesn't mean I didn't like them. Either they didn't live up to my expectations, or I simply liked them less.

1) Bakumatsu Rock - Climax Live. While I liked the interactions between the characters and liked more songs than I expected, I still feel this live didn't use all its potential. I mean, sure, it's a live, but maybe there could have been more of a plot ? Transitions were good and sketches were funny, but an overarching plot tying it all together would have been nicer, in my opinion. 2) Show by Rock - Shinen no Cross Ambivalence. This is very, very, very personal, but I think ShinganCrimsonZ didn't act enough like themselves. I know they weren't the focus of the plot, but... Rom had only like one speech that made the others cry, they didn't bicker about food, they didn't sing their jingle and Crow almost never called us "cattle" T-T Actually the focus was all over the place so I feel like no band really had time to shine. (And that's ever more personal, but the one and only reason I wanted to see Show by Rock was to see TakiEiji.......)(Obviously I'm not blaming anyone O__O) Overall I liked it, but not as much as I wanted to. 3) Touken Ranbu - Bakumatsu Tenrouden. The expectations/reality ratio was way too high for this one XD I still liked it, but not as much as a Shinsengumi fan should have, I guess XD First, I don't like Yasusada that much. And I'm getting really tired of his and Kashuu's issues with Okita. WE GET IT. We even had them all over Hanamaru. They're pretty popular anyway so WE KNOW ALREADY. I was more interested in Nagasone and Hachisuka's issues, but I think they were only superficially addressed. And Nagasone angsting about Kondou was only at the end with little build-up so it just felt weird, while it had the potential to be a heart-wrenching scene. And honestly, Kane-san and Horikawa felt like secondary characters T-T I'd have been much more interested in THEIR dealing with their owner's death. I also think they didn't have great singers and their voices didn't really work together, even though I liked the songs. So this musical was more of a miss than a hit, for me. (But I liked the previous one so much it was hard to top.)

7. Top 3 (or more) favourite actors/actress of the year?

1) Rachi Shinji. I've developped a real appreciation for him after being initially put off. When I first saw the Bakumatsu Rock musical his voice was so different from anime Ryouma that I thought he couldn't sing... haha =_= It got better the more musicals I saw in this series, then I saw him in Sayonara Sorcier *o* He was so, so perfect for the role *o* Now I really want to see more of him ! 2) Kanda Airi. I was very impressed by her performance in Ribbon no Kishi, and then I saw her in Sailor Moon *o* She was more than amazing. She appeared late, but she was so at ease on stage ! She was very in character, very into her dancing and singing, and she felt much more experienced than the adult actresses. Honestly, it seemed so very natural for her to act, it was hard to look at anyone else ! (And I don't even like Chibi Moon that much so it's really impressive.) 3) Teruma. I think he's one of these few actors who can really change who they are when they play different characters. I just find that very impressive, and since I've been seeing more and more of him, I ended up noticing. He has really improved his singing, too ! (And he does play very different characters while you could expect him to have a type XD)

8. Top 3 (or more) rookie actors/rising actors whom you’ve high hopes for in the future? ... I usually follow actors I know so that means they already have a career XD But let's try !

1) Takano Akira, Toumyu's Hizamaru. He's not exactly a newbie as he's done a number of things, but mostly in 2016 so I guess it counts. I've only seen him in Shinken Ranbu Sai 2017 (I'll see the actual musical in January), but I was SO IMPRESSED. Honestly, despite the huge cast and lots of other actors and characters I loved, he managed to stand out ! His acting was great, his dancing JUST AMAZING, and he was so into his role, it was a pleasure to watch. 2) Ooyabu Taka. I only saw him as Marui in the 3rd season Tenimyu Seigaku vs Rikkai, but my goodness he was perfect. Probably the best Marui so far, definitely one of the best and most charismatic actors of the musical ! It's not even a character I care about much so I'm not biased, and I did hear other people talk excitedly about how good he was. I don't think I'll be closely following his career, but I'm definitely interested in seeing more of him ! 3) Sakiyama Tsubasa. He has been in a number of plays for the past 3-4 years, but I think it's only recently (thanks to Toumyu) that his popularity skyrocketed. The more I watch him the more I like him, and he's one of the very few people who made me buy their CD, so that says something ! I definitely want to see more of him in the future !

9. Top 3 (or more) favourite butai/musical related drama/movie of the year? The original question said it could be a drama that has a butai adaptation or an unrelated drama with butai actors in it (who made us want to watch it). The thing is... I don't watch that many dramas ? Not anymore, at least. When I like a butai actor I like to see what other butai they're in XD There's always tokusatsu, but it's not ONLY for the actors. Oh well, let's try...

1) Tokumei Sentai Go-Busters. Amazing show. Predictable, but everything made me feel good, from the characters to the plot. It was on my list because of Matsumoto Hiroya and Baba Ryouma <3 (Then I realised Jinnai Shou was in it too !)(Now that I think about it they happen to play my favourite characters...) 2) Yowamushi Pedal. It was one example listed in the original question so it feels weird to answer that, but it's true. From the preview I didn't think it'd be anything worthy of note, but it's actually so, so well done. Even the bike races. And the cast is just so good, I love how they play the characters. 3) Zyuden Sentai Kyoryuger. A bit cliché, but I loved it. The main characters were great, the villains too, and I love dinosaurs. And I decided to watch it because of Saitou Shuusuke !

(Yeah that's two sentai but honestly I've already gone through all the Kamen Riders that have butai actors in it...)

10. Top 3 (or more) actors/actress that you think have the best singing voice? Now that's very unfair and I can't do it XD Why I like someone’s singing depends on so many things, and I may not like everything that person sings... But I decided to answer these questions so I WILL >< (This will be more like "hey I consistently like these people singing" rather than "they're objectively the best singers")

1) Katou Kazuki. He was amazing in Tenimyu, I actually listened to his original songs when he released a CD, and when I heard him recently I thought he had improved AGAIN O_O I don't think there's any limit to how good he can get. (And I love deep voices like his.) 2) Kimeru. Such a powerful voice. I think he can sing anything and make it awesome. He's sometimes a bit over the top, but I love listening to him. 3) Sakiyama Tsubasa. When I first heard him in Toumyu I wasn't convinced, but he's improved so fast ! I love his calm and soothing voice <3

(4th place is for Rachi Shinji because my god just like Kimeru he has such a powerful and beautiful voice *o* Just... less my style.) (And I'd like to mention Spi somewhere because while I haven't yet seen Mihotose no Komoriuta, I was SO IMPRESSED by his singing in Shinken Ranbu Sai 2017 he deserves a spot. His singing was amazing.)

11. A (or more) butai/musical that you didn’t initially love, but has/have grown on you?

Bakumatsu Rock (the first one). It was such a shock to transition from anime to stage, I didn't take it well. The seiyuu are pretty amazing, and the musical tried to have actors with very different voices try to sing like the seiyuu... and it doesn't work at all. After re-watching the musical, though, I got a better appreciation for the actors’ singing. It's not that they're bad, they're just made to sing things that were not made for them^^ And some songs are still pretty good despite that ! And in later musicals I think they better adapted the music.

12. Top 3 (or more) anime/manga/game that you would love to see being adapted into a butai/musical in the future?

1) Anything by CLAMP ? I mean, why is there no Card Captor Sakura musical ? It would be perfect. Or Wish !! Wish would be so cute. Or Clover *o* (Honestly any manga works. Even the 'heavier' ones like X or RG Veda. These two would have amazing group songs *o*) 2) I'm not sure I'd "love" it but honestly after three Tenimyu seasons it's time to be brave and adapt New Prince of Tennis. 3) I haven't seen it yet but when I read the question I immediately thought "Ballroom e youkoso needs an adaptation" XD

13. Top 3 (or more) favourite fandom on the year?

1) Tenimyu is still a pure and amazing fandom. Honestly seeing people still passionate about it nearly fifteen years later amazes me. 2) Touken Ranbu fans are very impressive, collecting so much information and following every single actor's other projects XD 3) The Hakumyu fandom sprang back into existence, it seems XD With motivated people sharing and subbing. I'm glad to see the fandom is still alive and happy despite the lack of new musicals.

14. How long have you been in the 2.5D fandom? Honestly I wouldn't consider myself "in the fandom" these days... I interacted with other fans much more when I was younger, and then there was a period when my interest in butai faded. But if we count from the first time I got involved... it's been about 13 years.

15. Lastly, what is your overall opinion of the 2.5D fandom so far? As I said, I'm not really "in" it so it's more like an outside opinion...? Honestly, I feel that now that buying and sharing DVDs is so easy, the fandom has grown so big it has become difficult to really interact with people ? Maybe I just don't put enough effort in it, though XD But having so many fans with different interests mean it's more difficult to find someone who matches your interests who is also interested in talking to you specifically while there are so many other fans out there. (But yeah, maybe it's just me. I used to be in small French fandoms, maybe I'm just not cut out for big international ones.)

And yet it amazes me how much people help each other : getting tickets, getting goodies, subbing... (Like, SUBBING ?? When I was younger I never thought about anyone ever subbing butai, fansubs were something anime fans did, I never considered it could apply to butai too XD So I'm always in awe when people sub butai.)

[space-------kid]

Walk Away

Title: Walk Away Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr/F!Reader Word count: blood, sweat, tears lol Warning: Angst, no happy ending (again, you have been warned) Prompt: ‘On the same bus together everyday’ Summary: He was falling in love in the worst way. He knew that he would never be with her the way he wanted to, but he just couldn’t walk away. Erik’s POV A/N: This should’ve been a Pietro Maximoff/Reader but I re-watched X-Men: First Class to Apocalypse and Magneto ate me whole. Also, sorry for the submission. @delicrieux, here it is!

Written for delicrieux’ writing challenge. Congrats on the 6k!

-

Apocalypse was destroyed, Charles’ school rebuilt, and Erik chose to walk away again.

Despite his aid in defeating the all-powerful mutant, Erik knew that the authorities were still after him. His actions while still being one of the Four Horsemen alone were more than enough to warrant not just his imprisonment but also his death, and the metal manipulator knew better than to go back into hiding as soon as possible.

Charles was more than willing to provide a safe haven for him, but Erik knew better.

So, naturally, he left.

(It was also a matter of not seeing eye to eye with his closest friend, but that was a story everyone knew very well.)

Erik fled the country as soon as he had the chance. He couldn’t go back to Poland - the pain of losing both Magda and Nina still too fresh in his broken heart. Still, his escape brought him back to Europe, for reasons he couldn’t fully comprehend.

He didn’t remain in one place for too long, didn’t apply for the same job he previously had. Erik was extremely careful and never forgot to erase his tracks. The master of metal had in mind that Charles might be keeping an eye on him, so he laid low and made sure that the helmet En Sabah Nur fashioned for him - a new one that effectively blocked the Professor’s ability like it’s predecessor - was always close by whenever he was in the confines of his temporary house.

The constant running away went for months, then a year, and when Erik got tired of putting up disguises and making up fake names, he found himself in the vast snowy plains of Lapland.

A small town was what received him, the houses too far off from each other and the citizens content with minding their own businesses. It still didn’t guarantee a perfect hiding place but it was acceptable enough for Erik, and so with the money he decently earned he bought the house offered by an old couple who would be moving away for good.

The couple bid Max Eisenhardt a good luck along with God’s blessing, and handed him the key to his new (temporary), fully-furnished home.

-

He found a job vacancy at the local diner located in the heart of the town. Erik took up the kitchen and made it his new work place, his shift an easy 6am to 1pm. He was glad that he was a decent cook - waiting tables sure as hell didn’t fit him. He would wake up at four, do his chores until five, and be at the bus stop half an hour later for a fifteen-minute drive from point A to B with enough time to spare before his shift started.

The town was quiet and his work paid well. Maybe, just maybe, Erik won’t have to leave soon. In spite of the recent event at Cairo (and, of course, the whole world), no one still recognised him for who he really was. Erik was still Max, the quiet brown-haired half-German who moved away from home after both of his parents’ death. He couldn’t get wind of one - just one - suspicion despite him being rather taciturn and secretive. The people just accepted him for who he introduced himself to be and left it at that.

Erik, however, knew the cost of being too complacent too well for it cost him his wife and child and remained vigilant. He made a few acquaintances but never let them close, lest he make the same mistake of helping even one of them at the cost of revealing who he was - only for them to call him out on it in the end.

-

It was on his third week of travelling from home to work when Erik finally paid close attention to her.

He was always mindful of who he was boarding with in the same old bus driven by its same old driver, cataloguing each passenger’s appearance and what business they were engaged with. From the single mother who worked at the neighbouring town to the father of five doing odd jobs here and there but mainly stayed at the dock by the lake, Erik knew what everyone in the bus did judging by their attire and demeanour alone. She, however, threw him a curve ball now that he had not dismissed her presence like he did two weeks prior.

The first time he saw her, he instantly identified her as a tourist, a map and a camera in her person. Tourists came and went in this small town, and Erik knew that she would be gone after a few days or so. There was, in all honesty, nothing special about her at first sight, and the mutant in hiding nearly kicked himself for not studying her as carefully as he did with the other passengers of the bus.

The first thing he noticed that morning was the absence of both camera and map. Clutched in her small hands was a newsprint and a small basket of white roses at her feet. She had a pretty face, and air was knocked out of Erik’s lungs when he met her eyes.Icy blue met warm (eye colour) in a stare that seemed to stretch on for hours. The way she looked at him sent alarm bells ringing in Erik’s mind and he knew then and there that she was danger. Of what disaster she brought with her he didn’t know, and the metal manipulator steeled his gaze, expression going from calm and cool to a grim ‘fuck off’. He passed her by, subtly glancing at the paper she was holding. Erik released the breath he did not know he was holding when he didn’t see his face on the page before her.

The mutant took his usual spot at the very end of the bus, but he kept his eyes on her during the whole duration of his ride. When he reached his destination, he hurried off the vehicle but not before giving her another look. He stood by the exit for a few seconds, gaze fixed at her, and Erik went out of the bus with his heart in his throat. She was looking back at him, and Erik thought that recognition seemed to flash in her eyes when her lips curved up in the smallest of smiles.

-

He spent his whole shift tense and on high alert. Eyes wary and guarded, he scanned the diner every chance he got in search for the odd woman. His shift came and went without even her shadow gracing the place, and Erik allowed himself to breathe easily with relief. He was a wanted man. Maybe he was just overreacting. And maybe the woman was just trying to be friendly. Too bad he couldn’t allow her close. Erik won’t hurt himself in any other way ever again.

Look where it got Magda. Where it got Nina-

He boarded the same bus on the way home, and he sighed in relief when he saw that she wasn’t there. He couldn’t say the same thing the next day, however.

-

Travel from home to work now went like this:

He paid attention to her day after day. She would always be on the right side of the bus, three seats ahead of him. Erik always found her carrying a small basket of white roses, and she would always smile at him whenever he met her bright (eye colour) eyes.

No one sat beside her, and the master of metal had no deep reason to take the initiative to do so. The smiles soon transformed into good mornings when familiarity settled in on both parties and one day, when a swell of tourists nearly sent the bus packed, Erik found his usual spot occupied. Left with no choice, he settled on the last free seat beside her.

Polite greetings were exchanged and Erik left it at that. It didn’t mean that he would not take his chance to closely study the woman in hopes of learning more about her without the need for small talk.

A red Walkman was strapped to her side, the wire of the headphones loosely wrapped around a belt loop. Her hands, folded on her lap, were small and delicate. Erik noticed a thin scar on the back of her left hand, long and pale against her (skin tone) skin. Despite the layers of clothing she was wearing to ward off the cold, the mutant could tell that she was small and fragile in contrast to his large, intimidating frame. The master of metal watched her from the corner of his eye. Her gaze was fixed mostly outside the window. Sometimes she would tear her eyes off the beautiful scenery outside to look at the people inside the bus with her. Her (eye colour) eyes would sometimes meet his when he shifted his gaze away a little too late, and she would smile at him. He would incline his head in acknowledgment because he couldn’t find it in himself to be flat-out rude, and her smile would get a little brighter as she looked away.

When he reached his stop, he chanced another look at her and saw her staring already. Still smiling, she opened her mouth and told him to, “Have a good day.”

-

The good morning’s and have a good day’s soon became small talks, and Erik found a new seating arrangement in the bus a month later. Erik didn’t mean to, he really did. But loneliness always crept in every time the quiet became too much. He would not allow anyone to get too close and yet he sought companionship to fill the silence that he was slowly coming to despise. He just didn’t expect that he’d find it in her - a human so unlike him, of all things.

(Name) was interesting, fun and amusing to talk with, respected and never pried on his personal life, and knew how to make people comfortable around her once he got to know her better. She was smart, funny, and much nicer than most of the non-mutants he had come across with. From the talks he shared with her, he already surmised that she was wise beyond her years, her anger burned briefly, and her kindness knew no bounds. She was the type who wore her heart on her sleeve, who won people to her side by being true to herself, and who wouldn’t judge others for what they’d done without knowing what and why they were driven to do such things.

She always made the bus ride from home to work so interesting and it didn't surprise Erik when he came to look forward to it, and when - unconsciously - it became his favourite part of the day.

The master of metal had no idea when it actually happened, but now he associated (Name) with the word ‘friend’. And if he was being honest with himself, the thought surprised him still.

And everyday, she never failed to bring the same old small basket packed to the brim with white roses. Erik himself was not one for prying into other people’s business, but the flowers’ continued presence every single day got the better of his ever growing curiosity.

“They’re beautiful,“ he commented one day, blue eyes glued to the flowers. (Name) held the basket on her lap, fingers gently trailing over each rose.

She looked at him with a smile and nodded. “They are. Would you like one, Max?”

Erik humoured her and held out a hand. He watched as she carefully plucked one out of the basket and placed the rose on his palm. The master of metal smiled at the action and before he could think his words over, his mouth ran ahead of his mind.

“Why do you always carry roses with you everyday without fail?”(Name)’s smile faltered and disappeared. She looked at him, sadness and pain visible in her (eye colour) eyes. Her gaze flicked from the white roses to his face and she took a deep breath, obviously surprised at his question.

“Oh. It’s, um-" She never continued, just stared at the flowers on her lap. Erik blinked, confused as to why she was suddenly speechless. (Name) was many things, and sitting beside him looking rather stunned with tears welling up her eyes. The change in her demeanour was so abrupt it made the mutant wonder what the reason behind it might be.

Quietly, he watched as she fought the oncoming signs on sadness by blinking the tears away and flashing him a small smile.

"I think you should come with me this afternoon so I can better explain," she told him instead. "Only if you’re free, of course.”

Erik merely nodded in confirmation and hesitantly put a hand on (Name)’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. When he came to his stop, the mutant leaned towards her and softly pressed his lips on her temple before he could stop himself. The action surprised them both, Erik meeting (Name)’s wide-eyed gaze with a puzzled expression on his face.

He slowly pulled away from her and stood up. Jaw clenched, he trudged down the aisle and turned to her halfway.

“Stop by the diner later. My shift ends at 1," said Erik. (Name) nodded in response, her eyes trailing after him as he made his way to work.

-

He wondered what compelled him to kiss her later that morning. The answer came to him when his shift ended and, true to her unspoken response, he found her waiting for him outside the establishment.

Erik stepped out of the diner and was about to call for her, but his words died halfway out his mouth and just stared at her. (Name) was simply standing a few feet from him, her gaze locked at the bright sky. She was wearing the same jacket he wore earlier along with the same pink scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. She wasn’t the perfect epitome of beauty, but it was the little things about her right now that sent a little jolt in Erik’s chest the longer he stared at her.

(Colour) hair cascaded past her shoulders, sunlight dancing off in amber beads that clung to every strand as a small breeze brushed past her. Her nose and cheeks were tinged pink due to the cold but she didn’t seem to mind. Her lips were stretched in a small smile, (colour) eyes made all the more brighter when her smile automatically widened when she turned to look at him.

"Hi, Max!" It was just as simple greeting but the way she spoke and looked at him felt so sinful, and realisation hit Erik kid a thundering train.

Maybe the reason why he felt this way was because he was finally acknowledging the fact that his interest for her was actually an attraction that he had been unconsciously denying in fear that (Name) had already crawled her way not only through his mind (the recognition in her eyes when she first smiled at him) but also his heart (her thoughts, her personality, her eyes that spoke volumes when she listened to him talk even about the most mundane things). Maybe it’s because she was a human - just a human - and feeling something else for her other than friendship would be tantamount to betraying his very own vow on not hurting himself anymore in any way possible.

Erik mentally cursed himself. He shouldn’t have accepted the offer to come with her. He shouldn’t have asked about the roses she always carried. But it was already done, and he had no one to blame but himself when the reason for the flowers was finally revealed to him.

One quiet bus (not his usual ride nor route) ride later, Erik found himself in a private ward in the town’s hospital, and lying on the cot before him was a man slightly younger than him. The latter was obviously in a coma, wires for monitoring his heartbeat and a trach tube attached to him. The steady beat of the heart monitor filled the silence. On the small bedside cabinet was a vase filled with white roses. The flowers were in such pristine condition and Erik was partly awed when he glimpsed one bud slowly bloom. He glanced at (Name), silently asking if she saw it, too, and the small smile she gave him was her answer.

Erik stood awkwardly by the door as (Name) took the seat next to the comatose male and gestured for him to come close.

"Good afternoon, Iivo," she greeted the man, voice soft and quiet. "I brought at friend today.”

The metal manipulator did as he was told and stood beside (Name). His gaze was locked on the man for a few seconds before he shifted it towards her.

“Iivo, meet Max. Max, Iivo.”

Erik’s attention was brought back to the roses and he uttered one word that (Name) might be familiar with.

“Mutant.”

He wasn’t met with a horrified look as if in had just spoken a taboo word. Instead, she simply smiled at him and nodded.

The next question came out quietly, as if it would invoke a negative reaction.

“What happened to him?”

Again, Erik wished that he hadn’t asked. This was a terrible mistake, coming here with her and asking her the reason why a man (her friend? Lover?) lay comatose in a hospital. Guilt filled him and he fought the urge to walk out when (Name) started to speak.

“That day, when the earth moved and the rising metal wrought destruction, a group of people got trapped in a ski resort where Iivo worked. He was a staff there, and he always told me that everyone who walked in was his responsibility. So, naturally, he did what was expected of him. He helped everyone out at the expense of exposing his secret.

"Iivo managed to keep everyone safe up to the last minute, even after the metal came crashing back down. But when the dust cleared and the screaming stopped, almost every person he helped came out unharmed except him.”

(Name) placed her hand on top of Iivo’s and sniffed.

“There was so much blood… it’s a miracle he’s still right here with me. He’s the reason why I always have white roses with me. They will thrive as long as he lives. I-” Her voice trembled for the first time. “I can’t imagine going here or home one day and see those flowers wilt and die. He’s been under for more than a year now, but I can’t stop hoping for him to wake up. I can’t, can I? I don’t want to lose him 'cause he’s the only one I got.”

Heart throbbing in his throat, Erik’s hand shook as he took a slow step back. His actions that fateful day killed thousands of people, he was very well aware of it, but seeing a victim- victims in person struck him to the core. Erik knew that blood would always be in his hands, but this…

His gaze landed on the scar at the back of (Name)’s hand, how her other hand closed upon it. The thought that she was present that time and had to witness Iivo’s attempts and subsequent fall struck him like lightning. Bile rose in his throat and without so much as an excuse me, he dashed out of the room, (Name) calling after him in a mixture of alarm and confusion.

Erik turned in an empty hall, hand braced against the wall as shock and the full weight of what he had done filled his entire being. He had always escaped guilt using distractions and his very own attempts to mask and hide who he really was, but now it came crashing down on him like a landslide. Walking out on her and her friend (not lover, anything but that, please) was a grave mistake. (Name) was a smart woman, he knew that she would’ve figured it by now. He couldn’t stay any longer. He couldn’t, unless he wanted to be exposed. He-

He had to leave again.

“Max…?”

He froze. Slowly, the master of metal looked over his shoulder and saw (Name) standing at the end of the hall, her face pinched with worry. She took a step forward but he held out a hand to stop her.

“Max, I’m-”

“No. Stay back,"he shakily told her. The look of pure concern on her face made him flinch. "Stay back. Please.”

She didn’t listen.

“I’m so sorry, Max, I didn’t mean to upset you-”

Erik used the metal on her belt to halt her progress. (Name)’s eyes widened, fear flashing briefly on her face but she continued and fought against him.

“Max-”

“You know that’s not my name!"Erik snarled at her but she didn’t flinch. It infuriated him because she should be scared, she should damn well be scared because he was the reason why Iivo was comatose, the reason why she had that scar on her hand, the reason why a lot of people were dead. He was a powerful mutant, he was Magneto, he was a murderer-

A murderer who was swiftly falling for a woman that he couldn’t have.

They stood there, holding each other’s gazes. Erik way the first to look away, dropping his outstretched hand and letting his hold on her go.

"I know.”

Those two words would have shattered his already broken heart had (Name) not crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him. Erik’s breath hitched in his throat, arms hanging limply on his sides.

“I know who you are. I know what happened to you. I’m sorry, and I forgive you.” That forgiveness was undeserved, Erik wanted to say, but he settled for silence and allowed himself to be selfish just this once. He wrapped his arms around her in a crushing hug, his now tear-streaked face buried in her hair. Tremors wracked his body as he failed to contain the sobs that escaped his lips. He pulled her closer, tighter, until there was nothing gentle about the hug anymore. It was desperate, pleading, and Erik simply didn’t care anymore that he was being weak. “I forgive you, Erik,”(Name) murmured sincerely (how could she find it in herself say it I don’t deserve it I’m a monster), one hand rubbing soothingly on his back while the other brushed through his hair. “I forgive you. We forgive you. Don’t cry, please. I forgive you…” He took to being selfish again and believed her. - Erik wanted to pack his bags and leave, but he couldn’t. He knew that he had to leave, to protect his identity and himself from the pain, but he just. Couldn’t. Do. It. He knew that continuing to stay here would not do him good. Against his better judgement, he stayed. He stayed and held on (Name)’s forgiveness and the feelings he held for her. He was falling in love in the worst way. Erik knew that he would never be with (Name) the way he wanted to, but he just couldn’t walk away. It was stupidity, selfishness, and hope blending together but he ignored them and held on to what he thought he had. He stayed until one day, he sat beside (Name) on the same bus, with the same old driver and passengers, the same small basket of roses placed on her lap. The flowers were dead. - (Name), I will never ask for your forgiveness. You may have given it to me so freely, but I know I don’t deserve it. I’m sorry. But there is one thing I can promise you, and I aim to fulfill it with the best of my ability. I promise you will never see me again. It’s for the best. I’m lucky to have known you. There are so many things I wanted to tell you but they don’t matter anymore. I know this is selfish of me to ask you this, but be happy. Please be happy. I love y- EL

[gigsoupmusic]

Frank Turner 'No Mans Land'

Originally planned to be his seventh release until the 2016 political climate caused a re-ordering, Frank Turner’s 8th effort, ‘No Man’s Land’ an album about women from history has seen plenty of discussion prior to its release – but much of it concerning his audacity in making it at all. Turner is certainly no stranger to controversy – see the Mongol Horde name debate for a recent example – and was well aware the album would stir feathers , addressing the concerns in a blog post, emphasizing the work of female producers on the record, explaining his thought process behind each track in his podcast - even inviting another singer who had once penned a track about Rosetta Tharpe to perform on his platform. Despite the pre-emptive damage control, the reaction has been, well, depressingly predictable. Talk of appropriation, obligatory quips about mansplaining, annoyance that the project sees Turner takes centre stage (on his own album) The ongoing debate as to whether a man holds the right to create art about women – important but so, so obnoxiously debated. The words ‘Tory’ and ‘Eton’ being wearily thrown around Twitter as slurs by folk who really need to read up on the meaning of left/right wing – making one suspect that people’s real issue isn’t ‘Ugh. A man is writing songs about women’, but more ‘Ugh. Frank Turner is writing songs about anything.’ But what about, y’know, the actual album? Press surrounding the record has been so dominated over whether or not it has the right to exist that the tracks themselves have taken something of a backseat. Since addressing personal demons on Recovery and resilient inertia on Positive Songs, Turner - as he approaches the 15 year benchmark as a solo artist - seems determined to step firmly out of his comfort zone.  We saw the first signs of this with last years uneven ‘Be More Kind’ –  a response to the changing world which saw a return to the political, plus love ballads with strings, synths, ukuleles, all wrapped in a vague concept of ‘lets be nicer to each other’.  Now he’s thrown caution to the wind and done a more direct concept album – twelve tracks about inspirational, intriguing and largely unremembered women from history (plus one about his mum). It’s a bold step away from the heavily autobiographical songwriting that defined Turners first seven albums, a move towards a narrative style which has only been seen in glimpses – the outstanding ‘Balthasar, Impresario’ from 2011’s England Keep My Bones being the best example. And yet, given Turners background as a self-confessed history geek (and LSE European History scholar), the concept seems a natural progression. No Man’s Land is more than just a bold shift in songwriting style though, proved best by the bluegrass-y ‘The Death of Dora Hand’, which, despite some clunky wording, contains some of Turner’s most impressive guitar work yet. ‘Nica’, musing on bebop pioneerPannonica de Koenigswarter sees him incorporate some jazz (which given the subject, it sort of had to) while ‘Silent Key’ re-works his previously released Christa McAulife tribute from 2015 to a more melodic gravitas. No Mans Land alternates between Balthasars first person narrative and a more detached, descriptive style - in fact, one could divide the album roughly into two – the lively, general interest tracks which describe, and the more emotive explorations which speculate. Firmly in the first category is ‘Sister Rosetta’, penned in 2016 which became the albums lead of sorts, already attracting attention as a live favourite and for the fact that, yes, the riff kind of sounds like ‘Stacy’s Mom’. It’s not a particularly deep song, lyrically, but it functions as a lively and sincere nod of reverence to an oft-forgotten player in the evolution of rock’n’roll – and if it revitalises public interest in Ms Tharpe’s legacy, all the better. ‘The Lioness’, a pop-punky ode to Egyptian Feminist Union founder Huda Sha’awari follows the same format – using Sha’awari’s lesser-known story as the launching pad for an anthem of defiance which will no doubt  be a popular one for Turner’s fans to shout back at him. The song poses a counter-point to complaints that some of the songs are shallow – those intrigued by the track about Sha’awari’s efforts with the EFU can pick up a book, and wrangling a ‘fuck-you-I-won’t do-what-you-tell-me’ out of her refusal to wear a face veil post-widowhood holds some musical worth of its own – there’s really no rule that says historical songs must double as Cliffs Notes. And in some places, Turner just allows it to be fun, like on opener ‘Jinny Binghams Ghost’ -  a darkly upbeat old-timey number reminiscent of Nick Cave’s ‘Murder Ballads’ https://open.spotify.com/album/2sgJ0cMvYNIiiArcntpa5g?si=OIOkboVOQ3OmhcEij7RgEA ‘Rescue Annie’ falls into the category as well, but with less success – Turner’s desire to create a song about a woman ‘who died never having been kissed and became the most kissed face in history’ is more intriguing than the resulting run-of-the-mill folk track that follows. The songwriting becomes more interesting when Turner switches to  first person – ‘Eye of the Day’, deftly weaves through the life of Mata Hari (‘ If anyone asks, I named myself after the sun’) , a courtesan executed in 1917 for alleged espionage. Turners vivid narrative ends in an a capella description of her last stand, 'staring down the soldiers and the hatred of the world/I felt the warmth of the Malay sun and I smiled for them all', Hari finding a quiet dignified victory in her unjust death.  ‘The Hymn of Kassiani’ – concerning revered hymnographer St Kassia (‘the woman who rejected the king’) uses the first person in a folk-reimagining of the Byzantine troparion. Here, Kassias actions are attributed to independence rather than piousness – a curious take, even if borne from Turner’s avowed atheism. This same cynicism is layered with blind loyalty on ‘I Believed You, William Blake’ told wistfully from Catherine Blake’s perspective. The only number in this style that doesn’t really land is ‘A Perfect Wife’, an attempt at an acoustic introspective of Nannie Doss. Serial killer songs can’t get away with being this bloodless.  ‘The Graveyard of the Outcast Dead’ is where the use of POV gets most interesting, spanning multiple eras from a beyond-the grave perspective. Turner – exploring the stories of forgotten women in a literal sense - narrates from the viewpoint of an unnamed resident of Cross Bones Yard, where the remains of Londons sex workers were interred without ceremony. It’s a festive, tragic-yet-uplifting Celtic style ballad that stands as the albums best offering. ‘No Man’s Land’ uses its theme creatively and (largely) successfully to create the albums running duality - the one conceptual outlier being ‘Rosemary Jane’ about Turner’s own mother – the only living subject on the album and the only track which Franks detractors really can’t claim would have been better written by someone else. It’s a little gentle to be a track with a great deal of replay value, but it’s certainly interesting to get a rare insight into Turner’s upbringing, a la ‘Fathers Day’. Despite its significantly polarizing reception, No Man’s Land is neither a potent hour of feminist history, nor a gimmicky self-absorbed attempt at folk-woke – rather it’s a sincere stab at something new from a seasoned, gradually evolving musician, and an assuring indicator that Turner’s future holds a few more surprises. While it certainly doesn’t always hit, when it works this type of songwriting brings out an earnestness and occasional subtlety in him – it would be interesting to see him continue this style outside of a concept that doesn’t carry such automatic nay-saying.

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