#Flat racing master review

[tonkibrazil]

Flat racing master review

#Flat racing master review update#

#Flat racing master review software#

#Flat racing master review trial#

#Flat racing master review series#

#Flat racing master review trial#

We are over two months into our trial of Racing Professionals Flat service so it is about time for an update. Hopefully they will hit a nice 100/1 winner soon and get back on track, but for the moment this one has to be added to the failed systems pile. This trial has shown once again that it is no easy ride making money in this game and some long losing runs can hit anyone, whatever their experience and level of expertise. There doesn’t seem to be any other possible verdict than failed with a 132 point loss and 88% bank decline. Subscription costs: The subscription costs are high at £44.99 per month. We would think a 300 point bank would be needed given the drawdown experienced during our trial. Strike rate: With the strike rate for the trial down at just 10%, it was clearly well below the expected level for the service to make a profit.Īdvised Betting Bank: The advised bank was 150 points, which was clearly not enough as we lost 132 points and 88% of the bank. It’s been one way traffic – unfortunately the wrong way – for the majority of the trial.Įase of use: Very good – the tips are sent out by e-mail early in the morning and then all bets are simply placed at Betfair SP, so very quick to operate.Īvailability of prices: As above, with all bets placed at Betfair SP, there are no issues around price availability. You should never get this close to losing your entire bankroll, although we suspect in reality after a drawdown like this most people would have stopped following the tips in any event.Īnyway, here are the results in graph format: Unfortunately though, we can only judge a service on what is has achieved during our trial and with an 88% loss of the bank, it has been a disappointing run.Ĭertainly we would suggest that on the basis of this trial, a 150 point bank is not nearly enough and 300 points or more would be appropriate. They do rely somewhat on picking some big priced winners, with past results showing winners at 100/1 and above, so they are perhaps just one big winner away from turning things around. Sadly they have ended up with a 132 point deficit and have lost 88% of the advised bank. Well at the end of our trial of the Racing Professionals Flat Service, what can we say – other than it has been something of a sorry story for them over the last three months. Racing Professionals Flat Service Final Review It is the end of our three month trial of the Racing Professionals Flat service and here are the final results:

Lucrative MMA Betting Tipster – Final Review.

#Flat racing master review update#

JK Diego’s Draw Betting System – 15 Month Update.

Bookie Insiders Football – Final Review.

#Flat racing master review software#

Each Way Sniper Auto Software – Final Review.His third win was for Peter Miller, who then doubled in the fourth. Hernandez’s first two wins Sunday were for Baffert. If Juan has consistently been on a horse for a trainer in top races, we’re not going to jump to another horse just because he’s become available because Prat has departed. Some very good horses that he rode here, now need riders … horses from trainers like (Bob) Baffert and (John) Sadler … It’s definitely helped with Prat moving on. He won 12 of the last 23 stakes before Del Mar already has three here. “But everyone already knew Juan is very good. “Everyone else moves up one,” said O’Bryan. Juan Hernandez won the first three races Sunday to give him 13 wins and a four-win lead over Rispoli over the meeting’s first two weekends.Įarlier, Hernandez’s agent, Craig O’Bryan discussed how the relocation of five-time Del Mar riding champion Flavien Prat to the East Coast has affected the availability of good mounts for Hernandez and other jockeys. In order, Heathers Grey (10-1) won the seventh, Justique (9-1) won the eighth, Master Piece took the ninth, I’m Corfu (14-1) won the 10th and Claddagh Cure (10-1) took the finale.

#Flat racing master review series#

Master Piece was the longest shot in a series of wins by outsiders to cap Sunday’s program. Master Piece, whose best finish in a stakes race since being imported from South America was a second in the 2021 Grade II Del Mar Handicap, paid $34.20 to win. Going into the Eddie Read Stakes, Rispoli and D’Amato had already combined to win six turf races in the first six days of the summer meeting, including two stakes races. It was another half length back to Cathkin Peak and Umberto Rispoli. Master Piece finished 3¼ lengths ahead of Hong Kong Harry with Ramon Vazquez aboard. Meanwhile, D’Amato’s entries ran second (Hong Kong Harry), third (Cathkin Peak), fifth (Masteroffoxhounds) and eighth (Cash Equity). Then came the wait as the start was replayed and replayed on the video board. “But I was surprised at the move he put in. “I knew he would run well,” said McCarthy of Master Piece. “I had to go between two horses and the opening was there for me. “I got lucky at the three-eighths pole,” said Cedillo.

[thefilmsnob]

Barbie: **** out of 5

As I was leaving a screening of Barbie amidst a sea of elated fans, I overheard someone saying, “That was so much better than I thought it would be.” Honestly, I didn’t share the sentiment. That’s because I was certain it would be great the second that I learned it was Greta Gerwig’s next project. A wonderful actor and writer, Gerwig eventually directed her first film Lady Bird in 2017 followed by Little Women in 2019, both extraordinary works and two of the best reviewed movies of the last decade. I wasn’t excited for Barbie; I was excited for Gerwig’s third feature.

That feature is half of the ‘Barbenheimer’ cultural phenomenon. Never in a million years would I have pictured Gerwig, the de facto Queen of Indie Films, at the center of two blockbusters vying for box office dominance…in the same week! What’s more, her film is actually winning the financial battle against Oppenheimer, the second film in that portmanteau whose director, Christopher Nolan, churns out blockbusters like Mattel churns out plastic dolls.

One such doll, Barbie, is the star of this film and an American institution launched in 1959 whose instantly recognizable brand floods the hallways of countless stores. Some might view the film as cynical commercialism—this two-hour showcase definitely won’t hurt sales—but, that opinion is reductive. The opening scene alone defies expectations and reminds us of the exceptional talent behind the camera, including co-writer Noah Baumbach, who’s even more ‘indie’ than Gerwig, and both her creative and romantic partner.

You may not know the people behind the camera, but you do know the star in front of it. Possessing otherworldly beauty (narrator Helen Mirren has a killer line about this) and exceptional acting skills, Margot Robbie’s casting is a no-brainer, which is ironic considering how inclusive the cast is; dozens of Barbies inhabit Barbieland, composed of various races, body types and gender identities. That goes for the Kens as well. But, Robbie plays Stereotypical Barbie, a crucial aspect of the story that the film makers stress often, mainly to highlight a standard that impressionable, vulnerable young people experience so often.

And so, the perfect Barbie played by the perfect actor lives a perfect life in a hot pink utopian society where the Barbies hold all positions of power while the Kens, including Beach Ken (a priceless Ryan Gosling), chill at the beach and try, unsuccessfully, to woo the ladies. The nonchalance of Barbie’s rebuff of Ken speaks volumes about this social hierarchy. Robbie’s Barbie has a daily routine, executed as if a child were controlling her, rituals that include sipping from an empty cup and floating from bedroom to driveway because what child would walk her doll down every stair?

This occurs on a meticulously constructed set, realized by designers Sarah Greenwood and Katie Spencer. Built on a solid foundation of whimsy and charm, this community—whose geographic and temporal relationship with the ‘real world’ wisely is left ambiguous—is the product of stunning practical effects in place of tempting CGI. Like in recent films, interestingly, such as Beau is Afraid and Asteroid City, the set resembles a colourful diorama, at once fantastical and tactile. It’s a world of make-believe you can otherwise almost reach out and touch, just like the toys that inspired it.

But toys don’t have sudden preoccupations with mortality like Barbie does during a dance number, handled with perfect comedic timing by Robbie. She’s also horrified by newly flat feet and patches of cellulite. It’s around this point when the story shows it has more on its mind than just brand promotion. That trend continues as Barbie consults Weird Barbie (the delightfully weird Kate McKinnon) who’s an outcast yet the wisest of them all. Lurching about, contorting herself and giving those big-eyed, alien-like looks that McKinnon has mastered, she tells Barbie to find the girl who’s controlling her in the real world.

With Ken stowing away in Barbie’s convertible, the two arrive in Los Angeles’s Venice Beach, enveloped in neon spandex. There’re some standard fish-out-of-water moments played for laughs, sure, but Gerwig and Baumbach also use this framework to explore a myriad of social issues with the same amount of fervor used to entertain. After being ogled relentlessly at the beach, Barbie is cat-called by some construction workers, but that cliché is subverted as Barbie simply and unexpectedly explains that she lacks genitalia. It’s brilliant.

As with Gerwig’s previous films, it’s difficult to pin down a specific message; she explores numerous issues and isn’t one to tie things up in a neat little package. The stories have feminist underpinnings, but they’re never reduced to simple dichotomies like ‘women are good/men are evil’. Yes, men are portrayed as misogynists occasionally or embody corporate greed in the case of the idiotic Mattel executives led by a pompous Will Ferrell as the CEO. We also see the dangers of an impressionable air head like Ken learning of the patriarchy and introducing its flaws to Barbieland, hopefully bringing attention to how insufferable bro culture can be. Yet, Gerwig’s brand of feminism is sympathetic to male struggles too, especially toward the end, even if much of their behaviour is rightly judged.

Mattel isn’t even immune from judgment; the writers get away with a surprising amount aimed at the company, specifically regarding their toys’ negative influence on body image and self- esteem. For a film maker to resist the pressures of both studio executives and the heads of the represented brand, especially with the huge stakes of a blockbuster production, is truly remarkable and a testament to the audacity of Gerwig who’s unwilling to sacrifice her artistic integrity. Mattel also deserves some credit for acknowledging their shortcomings and vowing to do better. Everyone wins here.

That includes the audience, most importantly. Not only are we treated to hilarious, candy-coloured entertainment, but we’re given a smart film for adults that kids will also enjoy and whose insight will benefit both. It challenges corporate power, the patriarchy, beauty standards and stereotypes while promoting inclusion, autonomy and self-confidence, mostly in creative and entertaining ways though, occasionally, unlike Gerwig’s previous films, a bit too overtly if not altogether preachy. America Ferrera, with a soulful and honest performance as the Mattel employee Gloria, gives a tirade about society’s ridiculous expectations of women; it’s hard to refute her argument, but the delivery feels too familiar in this otherwise unique experience.

It’s an experience that relies heavily on its two leads, both marvellous. Gosling eschews his usual dead-eyed intensity for a relaxed turn as a lovable nitwit and does so effortlessly (no offence). It’s Robbie’s (Barbie) world, however, and we’re all just accessories. The roll is deceptively complex, requiring an actor with more than just beauty to be at once effervescent and existentially preoccupied. Both her performance and the story are capped off with one final word that recalls a line (also the final one) by Nicole Kidman in Eyes Wide Shut, appropriate considering Barbie begins with an explicit reference to another Stanley Kubrick masterpiece. It’s a word that Robbie announces with aplomb when it would otherwise be whispered with embarrassment; a word she wields like a weapon, charging forward into a new life in the name of unapologetic femininity.

[crimson-ace-reviews]

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: Initial Thoughts

I know this may seem a little late, but I figured now that the first major story arc of this show is officially over, I can give my thoughts on the latest season of Super Sentai so far.

Here's a little recap for people who haven't seen it yet, but be careful, there's going to be spoilers abound.

THE RECAP

On an alternate Earth called Tikyu/Terra, the world is split up into five major kingdoms protected by guardian deities called the Shugods, these giant robot insects. In the kingdom of Shugoddam, an orphan named Gira (Played by Taisei Sakai) uncovers a terrible secret. Shugoddam's ruler, King Racules (Played by Masato Yano), plans to exploit the return of their race's greatest enemy, the Bugnarak, in order to seize more power for himself. After being chosen by Shugoddam's guardian Shugod, God Kuwagata, Gira becomes Kuwagata Ohger, one of the five chosen warriors whose powers were used to defeat the Bugnarok 2000 years ago. Gira soon learns that he's actually Racules' brother, but gets his ass kicked thanks to a trial by combat.

After being branded a traitor to his people by Racules and faking his death, Gira quickly gets acquainted with the other four chosen warriors and rulers of their respective kingdoms: Yanma/Tombo Ohger (Played by Aoto Watanabe), a master hacker who is the ruler of the kingdom of technology, N'Kosopa, Hymeno/Kamakiri Ohger (Played by Erica Murakami), the spoiled, but ultimately selfless ruler of the kingdom full of medical achievements, Ishabana, Rita/Papillon Ohger (Played by Yuzuki Hirakawa), a stern, albeit socially awkward judge who is the ruler of the kingdom where most criminals are tried, Gokkan, and Kaguragi/Hachi Ohger (Played by So Kaku), a ruler who uses deceptive tactics for the sake of his people and is the ruler of the kingdom that provides most of the world's food, Toufu. Their alliance is shaky at first, but after awakening three more Shugods and foiling a major Bugnarok plot, the team's bond becomes more stable.

Later on, they're joined by Jeramie/Spider Kumonos (Played by Masashi Ikeda), a human/Bugnarok hybrid with a dream of making peace between humanity and the Bugnarok. He steals away three of the major Shugods in order to awaken his own Shugod, God Tarantula. He tries to negotiate a peace treaty between the two races, but between Racules being a sociopathic tyrant and the king of the Bugnarok, Dethnaarok VIII (Voiced by Tomoyuki Shimura), wanting nothing more than to exterminate the human race, things fall flat. The only thing either of them really agree on is Racules using his kingdom's technology to revive the Bugnarok's strongest general, Daigorg (Voiced by Bugnarok), in exchange for the Bugnarok to only spare Shugoddam and none of the other four kingdoms.

The six rulers confront Racules and the Bugnarok under a new alliance between their kingdoms, calling their team Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger. This promptly leads to the Bugnarok being temporarily fended off and Gira beating Racules in a trial by combat, making him the new ruler of Shugoddam.

I skipped a few details like Gira faking his death and Kaguragi having a sister, but this is the basis gist of the first major story arc. Like my earlier reviews, I'm going to divide this into three major sections.

THE STORY

While I already summarized what happened, I still want to go over how much I love the writing for this season. While there's a basic status quo set up with needing to find a way to deal with Racules and the Bugnarok, there's never any stupid writing decisions made to uphold it, something that happened a lot in the last season, Avataro Sentai Donbrothers.

If Gira is one of the chosen warriors and the rightful heir to the throne, why can't he retake his kingdom as early as Episode 6? He tries that, but Racules breaks out his own set of powers connected to an artificial Shugod, not only making himself out to be a chosen warrior, but he's more than powerful enough to beat up Gira in a fight.

If the other rulers don't trust Racules, why can't they just gang up on him themselves? They don't really try that, but it's made clear that because of how much Racules is beloved, if they screw up an attempt to usurp him, they lose his kingdom's support against the Bugnarak, and they have to think of a way to deal with Racules that doesn't endanger their people's safety.

If the team managed to come together and restore the robot god King-Ohger, why is Racules still running the show? Racules himself steals the credit for it, and the team's plan to reveal Gira is alive is screwed up by Jeramie.

The point I'm trying to make is that this show rarely ignores potential plotholes. The only real problem I had with the story was how they kind of just threw in a new power-up towards the end of the arc with little to no foreshadowing, even though Racules could have used it the entire time.

I also love how deep the worldbuilding is for a Super Sentai season. Most fictional worlds featured in this franchise like the Flash System, Dino Earth, of Crystalia get very little screentime, and are only there to set up the plot so the rest of the show can take place on Earth, with the occasional flashback set on those places. This show goes more into how a world like this would work. You learn how each kingdom provides essential goods and services to the other, the history of the monarchies, and how the world recovered from a disaster known as the “Fury of the Gods”. While Terra is no Middle Earth, there's still a lot of thought put into writing this world.

THE HEROES

After watching Donbrothers answer the question of “What if the heroes in a Super Sentai season were a bunch of assholes?”, I was worried about the show setting up the team as being more divided than earlier seasons, but thankfully, they do a better job handling the dynamic than Donbrothers did.

For one thing, the show acknowledges that a big part of the characters' motivations involves finding a way to get stuff done without endangering their people. Yanma, Hymeno, Rita, and Kaguragi all have to worry about keeping their kingdoms safe in ways that they can't just fight off like the Bugnarok, which makes for some compelling drama.

I also love how the show portrays them caring for their people in different ways. Yanma acts more like a Japanese delinquent, but he still has a sense of loyalty to his people. Hymeno is seemingly selfish and obsessed with getting whatever she wants, but her definition of “selfish” also translates to encouraging others to dream and have desires in a way that don't really harm other people. Rita comes off as a cold-hearted judge, but it's clearly an act they put on to maintain a sense of neutrality and justice. Kaguragi is shown to be a very deceptive person, but his first episode makes it clear that he does it all for the sake of his people. Gira also works as the everyman as he not only gets to poke holes in their arguments, but he also gets the royal life explained to him by the other four. It's honestly a pretty fun dynamic that leads to some good interactions between the main cast, to say nothing about how Jeramie's cryptic dialogue is portrayed as unrealistic and only annoys the other characters.

THE VILLAINS

I really like the way the villains are being handled so far.

The Bugnarok are still the primary threat, but Racules serves as a more personal threat to the team, given the level of political influence he has. Racules generally owns every scene he's in, and he's the right combination of despicable enough to hate and enjoyable enough to watch. He's a fun character, but he also serves as a compelling antagonist and a strong foil to the other main characters.

The Bugnarok themselves are also surprisingly interesting. I like how Dethnaarok VIII's motivation for wanting to destroy humanity is played more for horror than most Sentai villains. This man doesn't care how many of his own troops he loses. He believes that if they lose at least one soldier less than humanity does in a battle, he considers it a win. He's a lot more unhinged than most Sentai villains, and you can never really pin down what his plans are. While Daigorg hasn't done much, he's still shown to be a really tough opponent, and Kamejim (Voiced by Shinichiro Miki) is a really effective strategist, even managing to outsmart Racules by posing as one of his advisors.

OVERALL THOUGHTS

Honestly, I think this show has been knocking it out of the park so far. The characters are likable, the story is compelling, and I'm really interested in seeing where things go.

[readerof-books]

I posted 13 times in 2022

That's 1 more post than 2021!

10 posts created (77%)

3 posts reblogged (23%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@womanoncesaid

@claudiagray

I tagged 12 of my posts in 2022

Only 8% of my posts had no tags

#book review - 10 posts

#netgalley - 10 posts

#banned books - 2 posts

#marvel - 1 post

#reyna grande - 1 post

#hide kiersten white - 1 post

#kiersten white - 1 post

#del rey books - 1 post

#harry potter - 1 post

#smart pop - 1 post

Longest Tag: 36 characters

#david copperfield's history of magic

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

David Copperfield's History of Magic

Published October 26th 2021 by Simon Schuster

An illustrated, illuminating insight into the world of illusion from the world’s greatest and most successful magician, capturing its audacious and inventive practitioners, and showcasing the art form’s most famous artifacts housed at David Copperfield’s secret museum. In this personal journey through a unique and remarkable performing art, David Copperfield profiles twenty-eight of the world’s most groundbreaking magicians. From the 16th-century magistrate who wrote the first book on conjuring to the roaring twenties and the man who fooled Houdini, to the woman who levitated, vanished, and caught bullets in her teeth, David Copperfield’s History of Magic takes you on a wild journey through the remarkable feats of the greatest magicians in history. These magicians were all outsiders in their own way, many of them determined to use magic to escape the strictures of class and convention. But they all transformed popular culture, adapted to social change, discovered the inner workings of the human mind, embraced the latest technological and scientific discoveries, and took the art of magic to unprecedented heights. The incredible stories are complimented by over 100 never-before-seen photographs of artifacts from Copperfield’s exclusive Museum of Magic, including a 16th-century manual on sleight of hand, Houdini’s straightjackets, handcuffs, and water torture chamber, Dante’s famous sawing-in-half apparatus, Alexander’s high-tech turban that allowed him to read people’s minds, and even some coins that may have magically passed through the hands of Abraham Lincoln. By the end of the book, you’ll be sure to share Copperfield’s passion for the power of magic.

Who else but David Copperfield would you want telling the history of magic? This is a great mix of biographies for each magician who changed the field in their own way, and part autobiography for Copperfield who added his own story about how each one effected his own career and life. Which is why he would be the perfect choice to tell the story of his fellow magicians, it's not just a flat description about who each one was and what they contributed but also about how in some way or another they helped get him where he is.

0 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

#4

A Deadly Affair by Agatha Christie

Published January 4th 2022 by William Morrow & Company

From the Queen of Mystery—this all-new collection of stories about love gone horribly wrong will get your heart racing. Love can propel us to our greatest heights . . . and darkest depths. In this new collection of Agatha Christie short stories, witness the dark side of love—crimes of passion, games of the heart, and deadly affairs. This pulse-pounding compendium features beloved detectives Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple, master of charades Parker Pyne, the enigmatic Harley Quin, and the adventurous Tommy and Tuppence, all on the ready to solve a tantalizing mystery. In “The Face of Helen,” a night at the Royal Opera could reach a deadly crescendo for a woman caught in a dicey love triangle; “Finessing the King” delivers a curious ad in the personals that could mask sinister intentions; who’s in danger of getting stung in “Wasp’s Nest” depends on rounding up suspects and solving a murder—before it even happens; and more tales that make for essential reading that Christie fans old and new will simply love to death.

Agatha Christie in quick short story form? Who wouldn't love it. Not only is each one more intriguing than the one before but each one will also leave you wanting more. Agatha Christie is truly the queen of the genre proving she can weave intriguing mysteries as well with a limited number of pages as she could with entire novels.

0 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

#3

A Ballad of Love and Glory by Reyna Grande - Book Review

A Long Petal of the Sea meets Cold Mountain in this sweeping historical saga following a Mexican army nurse and an Irish soldier who must fight, at first for their survival and then for their love, amidst the atrocity of the Mexican-American War—from the author of the “timely and riveting” (People) Across a Hundred Mountains and The Distance Between Us. A forgotten war. An unforgettable romance. The year is 1846. After the controversial annexation of Texas, the US Army marches south to provoke war with México over the disputed Río Grande boundary.​ Ximena Salomé is a gifted Mexican healer who dreams of building a family with the man she loves on the coveted land she calls home. But when Texas Rangers storm her ranch and shoot her husband dead, her dreams are burned to ashes. Vowing to honor her husband’s memory and defend her country, Ximena uses her healing skills as an army nurse on the frontlines of the ravaging war. Meanwhile, John Riley, an Irish immigrant in the Yankee army desperate to help his family escape the famine devastating his homeland, is sickened by the unjust war and the unspeakable atrocities against his countrymen by nativist officers. In a bold act of defiance, he swims across the Río Grande and joins the Mexican Army—a desertion punishable by execution. He forms the St. Patrick’s Battalion, a band of Irish soldiers willing to fight to the death for México’s freedom. When Ximena and John meet, a dangerous attraction blooms between them. As the war intensifies, so does their passion. Swept up by forces with the power to change history, they fight not only for the fate of a nation but for their future together. Heartbreaking and lyrical, Reyna Grande’s spellbinding saga, inspired by true events and historical figures, brings these two unforgettable characters to life and illuminates a largely forgotten moment in history that impacts the US-México border to this day. Will Ximena and John survive the chaos of this bitter war, or will their love be devoured along with the land they strive to defend?

A Ballad of Love and Glory by Reyna Grande

Published March 15th 2022 by Atria Books

My rating 3 of 5

I am truly torn on this one. On the one hand it’s beautifully written and absolutely captivating. But, well, on the other it was pretty boring.

I went in expecting a timeless love story set amid a war I knew nothing about but was looking forward to learning of. And I did in fact end up learning a lot about the war. A lot. Because there were moments when it felt like it would just go on. After a while, I’m sorry to say, the battles just started running together.

Off in the background, like the occasional interlude, the romance that I came for. Almost like a second thought, because there were moments where I would forget about it. It very well could have been written without these two characters ever falling in love. It’s not a romance novel with a war, it’s a war novel with a romance.

But as I said the writing style is well worth sticking around for. And I did learn something I not only didn’t know but had actually never even heard of.

1 note - Posted April 11, 2022

#2

Hide by Kiersten White - Book Review

The challenge: spend a week hiding in an abandoned amusement park and don't get caught. The prize: enough money to change everything. Even though everyone is desperate to win--to seize their dream futures or escape their haunting pasts--Mack feels sure that she can beat her competitors. All she has to do is hide, and she's an expert at that. It's the reason she's alive, and her family isn't. But as the people around her begin disappearing one by one, Mack realizes this competition is more sinister than even she imagined, and that together might be the only way to survive. Fourteen competitors. Seven days. Everywhere to hide, but nowhere to run. Come out, come out, wherever you are. A high-stakes hide-and-seek competition turns deadly in this dark supernatural thriller from New York Times bestselling author Kiersten White. 

Hide by Kiersten White

Published May 24th 2022 by Del Rey Books

My rating 5 of 5 stars

Has Kiersten White been holding out on us? While I have been a longtime fan of her YA books, if this is her writing for adults all I can say: "Yes, please" and "tell me there will be more."

Adult book Kiersten White is everything I have been looking for. Even more so after a long string of disappointments from books promising me thrills and suspense that got nowhere near delivering on those promises. Hide not only kept me up at night reading but, long after I put it down, wondering what would happen next. And while I won't admit to nightmares; there probably were a few nights when I did wake up worried something was in the room with me.

Unfortunately, while glancing at reviews I did see one that spoiled the big plot point for me, (and I do mean glancing, I wasn't even reading them when I noticed someone literally started their review with "This is what the big plot point is based on") but even with knowing what was coming the story and writing is so great that I was still caught up in it from start to the very finish.

3 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Elvis and Me: The True Story of the Love Between Priscilla Presley and the King of Rock N' Roll - Book Review

The New York Times bestseller that reveals the intimate story of Elvis Presley and Priscilla Presley, told by the woman who lived it. Decades after his death, millions of fans continue to worship Elvis the legend. But very few knew him as Elvis the man. Here in her own words, Priscilla Presley tells the story of their love, revealing the details of their first meeting, their marriage, their affairs, their divorce, and the unbreakable bond that has remained long after his tragic death. A tribute to both the man and the legend, Elvis and Me gives Elvis fans the world over an unprecedented look at the true life of the King of Rock N' Roll and the woman who loved him.

First published September 19, 1985

Audiobook Published August 23, 2022 

Blackstone Publishing - Audiobooks

My rating 4 of 5 stars

I have long since made it a rule of mine to not read biographies written by people who weren't there at the time or barely knew the person being written about. So, naturally when it comes to Elvis, who better to tell his story than the women who was a part of?

Personal thoughts about these two asides, because at some point early on I did think to myself that if this was a work of fiction, I wouldn't be able to stand either of them. I enjoyed hearing about a side of Elvis few knew about, or as she even mentions, have tried to turn into something else. This is a story only one person could tell, and Priscillia Presley did a wonderful job in doing so.

As the title says it's about both Elvis and Priscillia Presley, but of course, it is her story so she would be the "main character," making Elvis a secondary character. Looking at it that way makes it all the more interesting, since he was the star that everything, including Priscilla's life, revolved around; so therefore, seeing him through the eyes of an insider, one who I now know so much more about, was enlightening.

It is not a beautiful story, but it is beautifully told and listening to the audio version of it read by Priscilla Presley herself, made it all the better. I especially loved the little moments while reading where she would sometimes giggle, it just gave the story so much more than having it read straight through.

5 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

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[susanbslamthony]

On Paw Patrol, we never see Ryder’s parents. No one mentions them, we don’t so much as see pictures of them. Ryder appears to live at the Lookout Tower with the pups, rather than in a more normal family home setting. He also never seems to attend school.  Is it that in Adventure Bay is something of a more socially supportive Neverland? Is Ryder actually in his 20s?  No, I like to think it is something more heart breaking.  Ryder’s parents are dead. They died in an accident after some seemingly innocuous car trouble stalled their vehicle on a on a lonely, rural back road in Adventure Bay. Believing that their issue was neither urgent nor important, the local authorities decline to respond, leaving the couple alone in the woods. Without warning, a flash flood arises, trapping the couple. They called again for help, but it is determined that there is no safe way to reach them, and they are ultimately killed.  They leave behind a fortune, and a genius son who is overcome with grief. Ryder obsesses over the reports and statements of those he holds responsible, who echo over and over that the job was too small, they didn’t think the couple was really in trouble.  Ryder decides no one else will ever feel loss such as his again and sets out to create an elite force of first responders and community servants who will be there when anyone needs them, not just when it seems important or safe enough to go. He meticulously selects the most important skills needed for this team and begins to build each member specialized gear and vehicles so they can play their role. His vision is a force that will deploy at any moment’s notice, for any need in their community. No matter how dangerous or petty the task appears, they will always take the job. He pitches this force to the town council and is immediately shut down. No sane person signs up to be on duty 24/7 for the rest of their life. And more importantly, safety of the first responders is critical. They can not condone sending rescue personnel into these potentially fatal rescue situations. Ryder is furious, but uses his astounding intellect to review the problem. He needs a team that will always obey his commands, and never complain that he is interrupting their personal lives. And he needs a team who is expendable-- who the entire town will agree that their lives have less value than the people they would save.  He is still trying to figure out what to do next when he takes a trip to Adventure City and sees the most remarkable thing: a tiny puppy, alone and unwanted. He’s wandered right into traffic and not a single car notices or cares that he is about to end up with his brains painted across the pavement. Even the pup himself seems defiant as he is facing death racing towards him at 45 miles an hour. 

Ryder sweeps in, using the technology he has spent years developing for his patrol team, and saves the puppy’s life. No one notices or cares.  Ryders sees the opportunity now. Find five more brave, unwanted little puppies just like this one. Train them for obedience to his commands and adapt the technology he has developed to be activated by voice and paws. It takes some time, but before long, Ryder’s “Paw Patrol” has successfully mastered all the tools he has given them and has learned to obey his commands without question (Ready for action, Ryder Sir!). The community is hesitant at first, until they watched the puppies run into a burning building, jump on a sinking ship, and follow a train into an avalanche. Not only that, but they appear every time someone has a flat tire, a missing pet, or a minor injury.  Eventually, the police forces disband, as does the volunteer fire department, stating that they haven’t needed to work in months because of “Ryder and his team of Pups” are always swooping in first. Children begin to ask the Paw Patrol for help before they so much as tell their parents and all of Adventure Bay learns to rely on the pups. And Ryder continues to mourn his parents, while building new tools for his Paw Patrol and keeping an eye open for new pups to replace those who die in the line of duty, protecting the town that had failed his family. 

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 13: Hogsmeade

A Loki fanfiction!

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It was a brisk fall morning where the first chill of the coming winter snuck up on you. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tighter and yawned. Another restless night passed with terrifying dreams of Fenris and the bloodbath he left behind him.

You stood in a loose huddle of several students outside the entrance doors to the school. There was the sound of chitchat in the air as you all waited for the teachers. The trees swayed in the wind and a yellowing leaf fell in a spiral and landed on your shoulder. Valkyrie walked over to you with a smile on her face as you brushed off the leaf. It faded slightly upon looking at you.

“Are you okay?” she said, watching you.

You nodded with another yawn. “Bad dreams.”

“Dreams...or something else?”

You might have answered her but were cut off when Pom and Nila came up to the both of you. They had excited smiles on their faces.

“I can’t believe we finally get to go to Hogsmeade!” Pom said with a smile.

Nila agreed exuberantly. “I’ve been itching to go to Honeydukes!”

Valkyrie raised a brow. “Don’t forget we have the ball on Wednesday night, ladies. I, for one, am planning on gettin’ some before everything goes to shit.”

Pom looked at Valkyrie wide eyed while Nila blushed. “Getting what?” Pom said.

You and Valkyrie snort-laughed and Nila started giggling. Pom continued to ask Valkyrie what she was talking about when Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral arrived at the top of the stairs.

Professor Heimdall wore a long tan cloak over his robes and clasped his hands in front of him. “Students, you will be split off into two groups. One with me and one with Professor Fandral. We are incorporating a buddy system, so pick a partner and do not separate from them. This year we were not planning to go to Hogsmeade, but upon reviewing many requests and with careful planning, we believe it is acceptable. What is not acceptable,” he said, passing a look to each student; his eyes lingered on you briefly, “is to leave your buddy, or your group and venture off alone. The grounds are no longer as safe as they were before. Be wise.”

He said no more as Professor Fandral began to split the groups. You, Valkyrie, Nila and Pom excitedly climbed into a carriage, which eventually trailed behind Professor Heimdall’s. His warning stayed with you as you thought about long teeth and hungry eyes. Despite the fear that had permanently settled in the pit of your stomach, you enjoyed feeling the fresh air on your skin as the carriages took off. The wind was cold, but you had not realized how stifling it was in the castle until you had been outside.

You wondered what a carriage ride with Professor Laufeyson would be like. A blush creeped to your cheeks when you thought about detention with him from a couple of nights ago. The word ‘master’ rested on your lips like a secret behind everything else you said out loud. It was just for him. That night, you went back to your room in a heated daze and wondered what you had gotten yourself into. But the more you thought about it, the more your heart raced with want. You enjoyed calling him master, and you liked the way he looked at you when you did.

“What is going on in that head of yours?” Valkyrie said, elbowing you.

You jerked upright and smiled bashfully. “Nothing, I’m just thinking about what to wear.”

Just then, Pom and Nila deep dived into their clothing assessments and what was in season versus not. You absolutely had no idea how they had obtained this information, but appreciated the feedback. After a long lecture about colour coordination and matching shoes and accessories while balancing complementary colour contrast, the carriages finally arrived at Hogsmeade.

The four of you stuck together and plowed your way through Hogsmeade in a thorough fashion. First you visited Honeydukes, which was decorated completely in black for the season; it was as if the whole shop were dipped in an inkwell. Nila bought an entire bag worth of chocolate frogs, Burtie Botts, every flavour beans, blood pops (to which you wrinkled your nose), and cauldron cakes. Valkyrie bought bouncing bubbly which was a soft drink that made her bounce as if she was on the moon. The novelty wore off quickly since Valkyrie quite enjoyed bouncing above you and smacking your head. You were relieved once you entered Gladrags; there was a strict no enchantment policy and Valkyrie had to stand outside until the effects wore off. The three of you snickered and gave her a mock wave through the window. As she bounced in place, she mouthed: “I could murder you in your sleep, you know.”

You laughed and walked into the store, looking at the various fabrics and clothes they had on display. There were enchanted mannequins walking through the store and dancing every now and again for the customers. A small girl tugged at her father’s coat and pointed to a model just a few inches taller than her. Its face was a flat piece of wood and the thing danced around the girl, doing a pirouette with the bright green dress it was wearing along the way. The girl was mesmerised. You smiled and had to give credit to Gladrags; they knew how to market.

Pom and Nila immediately ran to the hats section where there were shelves upon shelves of all sorts of hats. Plumes of feathers stuck to the side of a large orange hat, while another was a green beret seemingly constructed of snakeskin. One hat seemed to have no set shape or colour, but was a fluid moving thing that sparkled when the light hit it. All the hats were magnificent, though you were never much of a hat person. You went to the back, near the sale items, to see if there was anything that you could afford. It had been quite a year gathering enough money to meet your supplies and tuition costs for the year. You hoped that once you aced all your exams, a scholarship or internship could be earned. Though once you saw Professor Laufeyson’s memories, your thoughts about joining the ministry were on pause.

As if the devil himself heard, you heard a familiar voice from your left.

“Good morning, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said.

You flinched, nearly knocking over a nearby twirling mannequin which actually hissed at you. “Professor! What are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as if you had committed a grave mistake. “What was that?”

“I-” You thought about it for a moment. Ah yes….your voice got lower, “Master, what are you doing here?”

He lit up and smiled at you. You wondered if you would ever get used to that.

“I have some business to attend to,” he said.

It was hard not to roll your eyes at how insanely cryptic he was. You were about to question further, but Valkyrie came.

“Professor! Fancy seeing you here,” she said, looking between you and him. You tried to put on your most neutral expression.

“Hogsmeade used to be quite the haunt for me when I was a student here,” Professor Laufeyson said, glancing out the window. “I particularly enjoyed Zonko’s. Well, are you young ladies finding dresses for the ball?”

“Yes!” Pom said from behind a rack of clothes. “And we found the perfect one for you, Freya,” she said, bringing out a frilly dark purple dress that had a mermaid style bottom and an attached cloak that looked more like a cape.

Valkyrie gasped with laughter when you took the dress and promised Pom you would try it on. You thanked her and elbowed Valkyrie. Professor Laufeyson looked as if he was trying to conceal a small smile.

The other girls left in a mad dash when Nila spotted a row of silk scarves that were on sale. Valkyrie went with them, giving you a strange look that showed you would be interrogated very soon.

“You better go try on that aubergine of a dress,” Professor Laufeyson said with a smirk.

You laughed. “I think I’m going to go with my outfit from last year,” you said, putting the purple nightmare back on the rack. “These new fashion trends are getting out of hand, they’re not for me.”

Professor Laufeyson grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. Your heart raced as he held your face in his hand. You prayed no one saw you. “Nothing here could do justice to the body underneath these clothes,” he said, his voice husky. Just as you leaned in towards him, he pulled away. You made the tiniest annoyed sound, and he chuckled.

He said goodbye, and you joined up with the girls to continue on their shopping spree. Nila had gotten a peach coloured dress that had a tight waist and billowing skirt. Pom got a short purple dress that was clean cut and cute. Valkyrie got a crimson dress that had a courageous slit down the side and a neckline that wound around her neck in a halter top. Your stomachs rumbled loudly, so the four of you headed into the Three Broomsticks, a pub down the road. Since Hogsmeade knew well that Hogwarts students were coming in today, they allowed minors into the pub.

You sat at a table and were surprised to see Professor Laufeyson sitting rather reluctantly with Professor Heimdall and Professor Fandral. They did not see the four of you slip into the booth just behind them, a wall between you. There was enough chatter in the pub to conceal your voices, though you kept it down just enough to hear what the teachers were saying.

Someone cleared their throat. You recognized Heimdall’s voice; it was rich and deep. “Loki, how is your semester going so far?”

Professor Laufeyson’s voice was effortless, as usual. “Teaching is such a noble profession, I ought to have tried it much earlier in life.”

“You were missing from the staff meeting last Saturday,” Heimdall said. His words asked without stating explicitly, why?

Professor Laufeyson let out a small laugh. “I had to drop everything and come here after Hubert’s passing, so when I can I must tie up some loose ends.”

“What might Loki Laufeyson’s loose ends be, I wonder?” Heimdall said, his voice low.

The server came by and dropped off drinks at their table. He then came to your table and took your orders. The other girls had lost interest at this point and began chatting, but you craned your neck to the edge of the wall to keep listening.

“...yes, I will be in and out after the ball. Business to attend to before we dive head first into midterms,” Professor Laufeyson said.

He was leaving? You wondered. He had told you he would not go after Fenris until the coldest night of winter, and you believed that. Your fingers tapped nervously, thinking about what else he was up to. Aside from seeing him in class and detention, you had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. It was not as if he was even remotely communicative about his life. The most you knew about him was from breaking into his memory bank like a thief in the night.

The conversation shifted to Professor Fandral talking about his wife and children and how difficult it was to leave them for semesters at a time. Eventually, their chairs shuffled and the four of you put your heads down and ate your meals. Your shepherd’s pie had gone cold but was still quite delicious.

About an hour later, you were back in the school, heading to your common room, evading Valkyrie so she would not ask you about Professor Laufeyson. You were just not ready to have any sort of proper conversation about it yet. You had no idea what was happening, and a part of you felt immensely guilty about the whole thing. At least if it was your personal secret, you could chalk it up to a delusion or dream and still function properly. But once you verbalized it, it was real. Far too real for anything you wanted to deal with now.

In the hall, you spotted a ghostly figure running towards you. Well, half of a ghostly figure. The legs and torso of Crazy Collin ran past you in a gust of cool air. A few minutes later, you saw the upper part floating by.

“‘Ave you seen me legs?” he said. His translucent face was even younger than you.

You pointed behind you. “They went that way.” You smiled as he waved at you and floated onwards in search of his legs. He was always found roaming the halls searching for the bottom half of his body, and it was a fun game that occupied most first years, helping Crazy Collin find his legs.

Suddenly, you thought about Pom’s brother Ken, who now had a missing arm, and your smile disappeared. Most of the time you had laughed at the ghosts of Hogwarts, but you realized they were all people once who had died an awful death. The thought both sobered and saddened you.

***

The next day you were seated in potions class with Pom next to you, taking notes on the use of a bezoar. Professor Laufeyson had put on a slideshow and you tried not to yawn, though his voice was like melted honey.

Something hit the side of your head and fell at your feet. You glanced around before picking it up.

“What is it?” Pom whispered.

It was a crumpled piece of paper and upon unrolling it, you saw an enchanted drawing of two stick figures dancing. One of them had two circles for its breasts and an arrow pointing to the figure that said “You” and the other stick figure had an arrow that said “Me”. You looked up and saw Nathan Gill, the sixth year Quidditch announcer, smiling at you. He pointed to you, then he mimed a little slow dance, and then pointed to himself, all the while mouthing the words, “Do you want to go to the ball with me?”

The paper was snatched from your hand before you could react and you were horrified to see Professor Laufeyson standing over you with a grim expression. “Passing notes in class?” He said with a touch of venom. After reading the note aloud in class for everyone to laugh at, he took five points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

“Harsh,” Pom said, and you did not reply.

At the end of class, you escaped out the door before meeting Professor Laufeyson’s eye, since you were far too embarrassed. Then Nathan found you.

“So, Eves, you want to go with me?” He said, brandishing a daring smile.

He was a year younger than you, though he was taller and his face was not all boyish. His brown eyes held an air of confidence and his dark brown skin glowed in the torchlights. He leaned against the wall next to you, casual yet focused on your face in a way that made you blush. You wished you could seriously consider him. Perhaps if he had come to you only a month earlier, you would not be in this mess at all. A boy like him was normal. A boy like him was far better suited for you. But alas, even though you thought he was invariably handsome and were somewhat attracted to his presence, your heart was doomed to stay in one place.

You smiled at him and were about to speak when Pom piped up out of nowhere, “yes she’s gonna go with you!”

Nathan smiled so brightly that you felt the words escape you. He leaned in and tucked a hair behind your ear. “See you then,” he said in a low voice and walked off with his friends.

Just then, Professor Laufeyson passed by with an icy expression. He glanced at you and Pom as if you were stones on the wall and continued on his way, not giving you another look. Your heart sank while Pom excitedly grabbed your arm. “Oh my god, Gill is so cute! Sorry I stepped in, but I had to! I thought you were going to throw up or say no, so I did what any good friend ought to do.” She smiled at you and you nodded hollowly, wondering what Professor Laufeyson had thought.

You were on your way to the Great Hall for lunch as you puzzled about Nathan. Pom had gone to the infirmary to check on her brother. The staircase you were climbing up moved and pulled you away from your path and down an empty corridor that would add another ten minutes to your walk. A sigh escaped your lips as you continued to wonder. Why would he ask you? You barely talked to him. Once you had given him ink when he ran out, and so perhaps he was just being nice -

A hand grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you into a room you had not realized was there. The door shut and vanished, leaving only stone, and you were slammed against the wall with a hard body against yours. The familiar scent of flora and musk hit your senses, and you gazed into a pair of cold blue eyes. His hand clasped around your throat as he leaned in and spoke in your ear.

“Did you think you could get away with being such a tease?” Professor Laufeyson said, his voice was a growl.

You dropped your books and panted. “W-what do you mean sir - er, I mean - Master?”

“That boy was all over you like a dog. Did you hope to make me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said. Fear bubbled in your stomach at his aggression, but more than that was another feeling...One that was going to get you into deep trouble. Your cheeks flushed, and you felt desire bloom within you. The feeling of his hand on your throat only made it worse - or better - and you felt your core tighten.

He laughed darkly and for a moment; you wondered if it had all been a joke. Then his eyes grew fierce, and he stopped smiling. “It worked.”

You gazed up at him and licked your lips reflexively. His pupils dilated, and he lost his composure. His lips collided with yours and you felt the heat of his breath against you. They were the softest lips you had ever felt, but they crashed onto yours with a ferocity that made your knees weak. He pushed you into the wall to deepen the kiss and you wound your hands around him, one hand reaching up to the back of his head.

He moved his free hand down and cupped your bottom. You raised your right leg around his waist, which he held in place. Your tongues clashed, and you licked his lips as if you were back in a dream. He lifted your other leg, so you were now pinned against the wall, straddling him. He pushed into you and you wrapped your arms around him tightly. There were no thoughts, only the feeling of his fingers digging into your body as his mouth invaded yours. When you felt his erection against your core, a cry escaped your lips. He rubbed it against you once more and you bit his lip, hard.

He chuckled and gently pulled away from you, easing you down. You gazed at each other as if your eyes were magnetically locked. Both of you panted and wiped the corners of your mouth. “You’ve grown quite...assertive, Miss Eves,” he said in a rough voice. He tried to put on a candid act, but you saw through it. He was trying to suppress his desire.

You stepped towards him and put a hand on his chest. “I don’t want to go to the ball with anybody else,” you said.

His face froze, not knowing what to show you. So he chuckled and spun you around, putting a hand on your collarbone. His thumb grazed your throat, and you wondered if flames would erupt across your skin. “You will go to the ball with this boy,” he said. And he licked your ear and bit the lobe. You closed your eyes and nearly moaned. “You will dance with him, have a drink, and do what young women do at balls,” he said as he moved his other hand to your waist, squeezing it. “And at the end of the night, you will come to my room, and I will punish you for all of it. Do we have an understanding?”

Breathlessly, you said, “yes Master.”

He let go of you and bowed slightly, as if you were a proper lady and not the girl he just ravished against the wall. “Good girl,” he said with a wink.

You were thrown so back and forth with his words that your lust had slowly transformed into a deep hunger...and your stomach growled unceremoniously, loudly. He chuckled at the sound as you crossed your arms around yourself, trying to block out the noise.

“Perhaps we should return to the Great Hall and get you well fed. You need to keep up your energy for the ball,” he said.

You looked around at your surroundings. It was an empty stone room with no doors and a large chandelier in the ceiling. “Where are we?”

He waved his hand at the wall closest to you and a wooden door appeared. “This is the room of requirement,” he said. “It is a room that only appears when you are in great need of it, and it also becomes the room that you need.”

You raised your brows as you passed through the door with him into the empty hall. The door disappeared as if the room was not there. You touched the stone and knocked on it, but it was just a continuous wall. “Just when I thought this place had finished amazing me,” you said.

“Hogwarts will never cease to amaze, love,” Professor Laufeyson said. He stopped when you got to the stairs. “Now, I bid you farewell until the ball. Be sure to get into heaps of trouble,” he said, smirking.

“Oh, I will,” you said with a wide smile. The butterflies flowed freely through your body and you felt electrified. Suddenly, the ball had gotten much more exciting and you could not wait for Wednesday night.

You ran down the corridor, back to the main level, where several students ran past you. The smell of food wafted through the halls and your stomach grumbled more, so you picked up the pace. Another scent caught your nose, and you wondered what it was, since it definitely was not food. As you walked, you realized that the floor was covered in water. Puzzled, you entered the main corridor which led to the Great Hall and found a large crowd of students standing there.

You spotted Valkyrie ahead of you, so you pushed your way through several students, mumbling an apology, and tapped her shoulder. She looked at you grimly and gestured to the wall with her eyes. When your gaze followed, you stepped back with a hand to your chest. There was a message on the wall, written in blood. The nauseating scent of iron was thick in the air. The message wrote:

The beast has awakened...Enemies of the heir, beware...

[remmushound]

Bay/rise 16! @errorfreak88 @brightlotusmoon

Cassandra was anxious. She had everything— her master had comeback at her side and was freed from the control of that monstrous spider demon. What was left of the Foot Clan was strong! She had the entire, empty city at her whim! But what good was the city if there were no people in it? Nobody to rule or protect or attack or make her life interesting. The turtles and their friends had disappeared into that rift and brought the city’s orb with them. Taken her masters Lou and Brute away from her, and took the rest of her foot clan away away too. Left her alone nothing but a few rouge mutants running amok, and the ruby ring on her finger that gave her control over The Shredder, What a waste…

She twisted the ruby ring on her finger. Like a puppet, Shredder twisted Big Mama harder into the ground under the immense weight of his armor. The Jorogumo screamed her anguish as the sounds of her body popping filled the air.

“I already told you, I don’t know where they went!” Big Mama wailed to the unmerciful duo.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Cass asked, climbing down from her throne made of mystic vines and leaning close to Big Mama’s face. “Where are my masters?”

“I don’t know!”

Another twist of the ring. Shredder grabbed one of Big Mama’s legs and started to twist it slowly backward.

“AH— I can’t tell you where they are! But I know who can and I’ll tell you where to find him if you just STOP!”

Shredder stopped twisting seconds before the limb would have come off. He let the leg fall back down, and it curled under the safety of Big Mama’s rotund belly.

“Then tell me.” It physically pained Cass to be so cruel. As violent and excitable as she was, the thought and action of this type of torturous interrogation wasn’t something she liked. She just wanted her family back. Her masters that had taught her well. Her fellow foot soldiers she had grown to respect. Her father— Her little sister…

Big Mama took a moment to catch a shaky breath. “W… when Yoshi tried to pull me through the portal I saw a little… glimsy-poo of where they were headed.”

“Go on.”

“The… rift stream did seem to… diverge a great bit, don't you know? I counted three separate eh… destinations.” She held up three claws, “And... on one of those little slipstreams I happened to catch sight of an Oni on the other side. Now, how to get to this Oni I… couldn’t tell you—“

Shredder started to crush her abdomen again and Big Mama’s words became frantic.

“But I know who can! Hueso Pirata— a calaca in the hidden city! He is skilled in all things mystic, and he can tell you where that rift went! And if he cannot, then Baron Draxum may be able to.”

Cassandra considered. “How do I get into the hidden city?”

“Why, you can use my charm of course! The spider emblem around my neck! In fact, there is a doorway to the Hidden City just outside this damned stadium— in the statue! I can take you to it!”

“No need.” Cass ripped the tag from Big Mama’s neck and turned it around in her hand. “I can do it myself.”

~~~

“Open!” Cass held the emblem out to the statue but nothing happened. She growled and went at it from several different angles. “Open! ¡Abierta! ¡Abierto! Aita! Ouvrir! I’m running out of languages! Abrir!”

She growled her frustration as the statue stayed a statue. She backed off and pulled out her Naginata.

“Wise guy, eh? GOONGALA GOONGALA!”

She charged the statue and hit it repeatedly, circling around it to strike it at every possible angle. All that served to do was tire her out and make her back up once more with a frustrated roar.

“WHY YOU LITTLE—“ She growled and started to spit off insults at the inanimate object and its dumb, inanimate face. “...pathetic excuse for a statue now OPEN SAYS-A-ME!”

The rift opened. Cass immediately settled and gave an excited squeak. “Oh. Yay!”

~~~

Hueso ran out of the kitchen at the first sign of a struggle. It took only a few seconds for him to locate the disturbance beside the bar and force his way between a startled and confused chupacabra and furious Kudan.

“Oye Oye, calmate! What is the issue?”

“I do not know!” The chupacabra answered in Spanish, cowering behind the calaca. “I sit here, I drink, and he got mad!”

Hueso glanced quickly between the two yokai, and then to the dish before the chupacabra before he quickly put a story together. 

Hueso turned to the kudan. “Ah— sir, you are upset of the Sangre De Cabra, yes?”

The goat snorted, muttering a few choice words in Japanese before switching to english. “Of course I am! He shouldn’t be allowed to drink that in public!”

“It is his nature, he does not understand why you yell at him.” Hueso turned back to the chupacabra and offered him some quick reassurance in spanish before gently guiding the kudan toward the back of the restaurant. “I will give you a private booth and take half off your order for the inconvenience, please no bad reviews.”

By the time Hueso finally got the furious yokai settled down, there came another disturbance in the dining area. This one went far beyond the normal customer disagreement. There were screams, and the sounds of tables being flipped and ceramic breaking. Heavy foot traffic as Yokai raced for escape.

Hueso didn't hesitate. He didn't freeze up or panic or try to run. In this area of the Hidden City, break ins were common, and with his background they weren’t much of a big deal. He could deal with the Mud Dogs like a mother scolding her misbehaving children, and he could send heinous green running for the hills with little difficulty. This was his shop, his livelihood, and nothing could take that.

“Por el amor de Dios, you chose a bad day to mess with me.” He growled and reached to unlatch the macuahuitl from his belt.

He backed up flat against the wall as his eye searched around the corner for the attacker, and found what appeared to be a human girl brandishing a bent naginata and an attitude that was bigger than she was. 

“HUESO PIRATA! I DEMAND RETRIBUTION!” She slammed her weapon into a series of decorations.

“No! My calaca art! So it’s a personal vendetta is it…?”

“SHOW YOURSELF!”

“You should tame your aggression, little girl.” Hueso finally stepped out into the open, holding his macuahuitl at his side. “It may get you in a world of trouble.”

“ARE YOU HUESO PIRATA?!” She pointed her weapon at him.

“Yes, I am, but please spare the decor! It wasn’t cheap.”

Her face remained furiously distorted a minute longer before she switched to an almost calm state as if flipping a switch.

“I understand. My father owns a store. Very proud of it. No more smashing.” She pointed the blade at Hueso again. “Unless it’s you!”

She screamed as she jumped from the table and charged Hueso. Hueso didn't move until the last minute, when he stepped out of the way and brought his club to strike the base of her skull. As she stumbled, she somehow managed to turn the assault into a counter attack, spinning and bringing her blade to swipe at Hueso. Hueso stepped back, though not fast enough, and the blade sliced through his shirt and what appeared thin air where his stomach should have been.

Hueso gave a shout and held up his club against the kunoichi’s blade to keep her from wounding him anymore. From the previous wound inflicted started to flow a type of blue substance, like blood but the wrong color. 

“Little girl—“

“The names Cassandra!” The human growled, finally getting strength enough over Hueso enough to shove him off of her and send him crashing into the wall.

“Cassandra.” Hueso corrected, taking a moment to collect himself while Cassandra circled for an opening. “Could I perhaps ask what fault you take with me to attack me on work hours? And could you not settle for a free appetizer and coupon?”

When the attackers only response was a furious growl, he charged a wide circle around Cass trying to get behind her while she spun on her heels to keep him from achieving such a feat.

“Grrrr hold still!” Cassandra shouted. “Stand still so I can hit you!”

Hueso charged her quite suddenly and landed a quick swipe at her arm, which promptly disarmed her of her weapon. She looked down at the weapon, up at Hueso, then back down and up again. The she gave a primal scream and charged Hueso full force, catching him off guard as she lifted him by his waist and slammed him hard onto the face of a table without giving so much as a flinch as he wailed his weapon against her back. The table gave way under their combined weights and Cass ended up landing on top of Hueso with her knee pressed firmly to his neckbone.

“Your times up, Hueso Pirata, and you’re coming with me…”

[justasparkwritings]

Exile: Five Whole Minutes

Previous: Breaking Branches

Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: Timothée’s crossed the line... now what?

Exile Master List

         She left a kiss on his cheek as she ran down the stairs and out to the garage. She knew he’d remember her 10:30 workout, a Saturday staple, but she texted to remind him that today she had brunch with a few friends. She delicately wrote a note, which she set next to a freshly filled glass with water before setting it on the bathroom counter, ibuprofen next to it. She knew he would be dehydrated when he awoke, not only from their intimacy the previous night, but from the copious amounts of alcohol they drank.

         Timothée had begun shipping a few boxes home from vineyards and distilleries that he’d enjoyed while filming, often holes in the wall that had no Yelp review, often small family owned places. He’d send a case to his parents, one to his agent and manager, and one home. She loved that he brought home specialty liquor, particularly because it made their bar a little gauche and allowed her to feign any understanding of the complexities of alcohol. She preferred prosecco, preferably under $15 and easily accessible in her local grocery stores liquor aisle.

        Timothée was a connoisseur, a wannabe sommelier. He had an impeccable palate, which always terrified her when out at restaurants or catching a drink on a Thursday, unsure what to order. She often deferred to him, leaning on his expertise. At first, he thought it was charming, he liked that she wanted him to pick it out. In reality, she was avoiding looking like an idiot in front of a man she liked so much so quickly. Eventually she shared her insecurity, and the next time they were out, he asked if she wanted him to order for her, and since then, he had taught her a lot about alcohol, about making drinks, about which wines paired with what. In her heart, she didn’t care, but she felt more confident every time they went out.

��          They loved sharing nights over a new acquisition. But it could also be their downfall. Last night they had tasted three different bottles of vodka, sipping slowly on their drinks while they caught up and made out.

           Timothée had returned on Tuesday from filming. Much like his other projects, he was completely burned out. Yes, set tended to have a lot of downtime, but Timothée was a pro, and he knew that the last two weeks were often the most grueling. Filming all hours, getting shots and different takes and angles on every scene. His body was physically worn down, and his mind had tried to separate himself from the incident two months prior. The minute he got to their house, she was waiting with a scalding bath, the perfect balance of Epsom salts and lavender. She knew him so well and slowly undressed him and herself, languidly moving into their tub. The music was low, the lights were dimmed, and they sat together, skin pruning, reacquainting themselves with the intimacy they had missed.

           She’d made dinner and they ate in comfortable silence. Then, she gave him a melatonin gummy and he passed out at 8PM.

           There was nothing like falling asleep in your own bed, in your own house, with the person you love, after being away for three months. His accommodations abroad were always nice, often over the top for him. He took it upon himself to become friends with the staff, to say hello to every member he saw, and he took his politeness very seriously, particularly in a country where he didn’t speak the language. But his own sheets… waking up to her … his own bathroom with the perfect water pressure … and a closet where his clothes were put away correctly, where laundry was done when he wanted it to be when, where he could cook any time of day. Their house was home, whether it was this estate or the flat in New York.

           He fell asleep quickly and awoke early afternoon to find her gone to work, but his favorite pastries from their local bakery waiting for him. Upon her return she found him doing laundry and making space for his new purchases. He left a surprise for her on the top of the counter in their closet, knowing she’d find it when she came up to change.

           “Babe, what’s this?” She asked, carrying the bag into the laundry room.

           “It’s a gift,” He said, folding the stack of t-shirts.

           “You didn’t have to,”

           “I wanted to,”

           “Tim, this isn’t because you feel-

           “No, it’s because I saw it and I thought you would like it. I like to buy you things while I’m gone,” He said shrugging.

           “I really like it,” She said, holding the bag tight to her chest.

           “I’m glad,” He stopped folding to take her in. She was still in her professional attire, hair pulled back and dangling earrings still in. “You look beautiful.”

           “Thank you, I had an important meeting this afternoon,” She looked up from the bag and caught him staring.

           “That’s a good color on you,” He said, moving towards her to rest his hands on her hips. She’d missed his touch and shivered at the contact.

           “Thank you,” She whispered, eyes darting from his lips to his eyes. He mimicked the movement and leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head. “I need to change.”

           She turned on her heels and walked back to their closet, silently screaming.

           Timothée didn’t protest or pry, he knew why she’d pulled away. Perhaps after dinner they would talk, air things out. She was often hesitant to be intimate when he returned, unsure who he’d been with… the fact that she knew, the fact that she’d spent Friendsgiving at her house and had invited her to movie nights made it worse. Maybe she needed more time.

           Which is how they ended up drunk and having sex in various places in their home all Friday afternoon, evening and night. There was something in the liquor that loosened her up, and something in how he looked and spoke to her that reminded her how much he loves her. It was also because of the alcohol that they had officially ended their open relationship, deciding monogamy was what they both wanted. The incident with Florence had caused them to reevaluate their relationship. Wasn’t that the point of a relationship? To grow and challenge one another, and at the end of the day, make decisions together? It was on that note that they had made love most of Friday, and why he was sleeping until eleven on Saturday.

           Timothée was awoken by his phone ringing and loudly vibrating off the nightstand. Jolted from his dreamless slumber, he quickly reached for it and furrowed his eyebrows at the caller ID.      

“Hello?” He growled softly as he cleared his throat.

           “Hey Timmy, can we meet for coffee? I have something I need to talk to you about,” Florence said.

           “Oh, yeah. Sure. When?”

           “Can you do 30 minutes?”

           “Uh, yeah, yeah, where?”

           “Do you want to just come here?” She asked.

           “Sure, see you in 30 minutes,” He hung up the phone before jumping out of bed. He made the bed quickly, and thankfully tossed back the water and ibuprofen left for him. He scanned the note while he brushed his teeth. He slipped a baseball cap over his curls and slid into his favorite trainers. He hopped into his car, grateful that she was kind enough to put gas in it and drove off.

           It was three hours later when he heard the garage door open. He tried to wipe the snot from his face. He wondered if he washed his face quickly, would it make a difference?

           She came in through the garage, singing. As the door shut behind her, she was stopped by how quiet it was. Their home was never quiet, particularly in LA, where they often played music or podcasts throughout the house. As she paused, she listened, where was he?

           “Tim? Timothée?” She called moving through the kitchen. “Babe, where are you?” It was then that she heard a sniffle from the living room. She turned down the hallway and beelined for the space.

She stopped dead in her tracks as she took in the sight in front of her. His eyes were swollen and puffed. A pile of tissues sat on the coffee table, the box flipped on its side, no tissues left. His hat was long forgotten, the pile of tissues starting to form a dome on top of it. His curls were blown from his hands running through and tugging them. He glances at her through swollen eye lids.

           “Babe what’s wrong?” She asked, rushing to his side. He engulfed her into his arms, tears falling onto the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder.

           “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He sobbed.

           “Tim, what’s going on?” She questioned, still holding him.

           “I’m so sorry,” He cried.

           “Tim, you’re starting to scare me. What’s wrong?”

           “Florence called, she wanted to have coffee,”

           Her mind began racing. She called today, she knew of their arrangement, had she decided she wanted more from Timothée? Had he slept with her, a day after they had decided to be monogamous? Had she called to say she gave him HIV or Chlamydia? Was she dying?

           “Okay, and?” She whispered, bracing for the hit.

           “She’s, she’s pregnant, and it’s mine, and she’s keeping it,” He tried to breathe, to inhale the air she’s exhaling, but she was rigid.

           “What?” She asked. She could feel her entire body going cold, her eyes filling with tears.

           “Florence… She wanted to get coffee and she told me,” He said. He sounded like a teenager who had had sex for the first time and gotten his girlfriend pregnant at Christian Summer Camp. Like his entire life was over, like his future was ruined. His voice was already pleading, though he didn’t know for what.

           “She’s pregnant?” She whispered.

           “Yes,” He said.

           “And it’s?” She asked.

           “Mine.” His voice cracked. “She wanted me to know and said we could talk about how involved I wanted to be. I have to think about it! I, I’m going to be a -

           “Okay,” She said, arms dropping to her sides. Her tone was hollow. “I’m um, congrats. I’m going to ...”

           She stalled, brain trying to work in overdrive to compensate for the sludge it was peddling through. She decided on her next action before running up the stairs. At first, he thought she was slamming the door to tell him to stay away. But then she came down the stairs, large suitcase packed. She didn’t stop to talk. She didn’t stop to listen to him. She didn’t stop to console him or offer him support. She didn’t stop as he called her name, as he followed her to the garage. She didn’t stop as she watched him fall to the floor in the space her car once was. She didn’t stop as she drove away from the house and the life they shared. He didn’t stop calling after her, even after his knees hit the concrete, the snot and tears mixing on his tongue as he tried to will her back.

Next: My Town

[frostsinth]

Royal Flush - Pt 12

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7|8|9|10|11 - MasterList - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - Art - ... Art - Art - Art  ( #obsessed)

... I cried writing this part. I’m not going to lie. I felt like there was so much I wanted to put into words, and I couldn’t quite seem to get it all out. But this is the second to last part. 

I hope you guys enjoyed all this... let’s call it ‘seriousness’, shall we? Part 13 will conclude the story. I’ve already got it mostly underway. I appreciate you all so much for sticking with me through this and indulging my obsession. These are my boys, and I’m right along with you guys on the roller coaster they brought us on.... I hope you can hang on for the final plunge...

If you want a happier chapter, I wrote an alternative Part 11 that spins off in a better, NSFW direction. Fully in character, but it was a “what could have happened” alternative timeline. That is available on my BuyMeACoffee which you can access through my MasterList page above. Only a few copies available, so be sure to get them while you can!

Anyways... I won’t say enjoy... Because I think that’s the wrong word for this chapter...

I stood before the small gathering of goblins, turning over the information just relayed to me in my head a few times. They waited in silence with bated breath. I could tell they were not used to that; I was sure ��silence” was not a thing they experienced often with Grier as their King. The thought set a bitter soreness in my chest, and I tried to brush the memory aside before it could overwhelm me. I noticed them exchange a few looks as well, as if trying to ascertain what to do. Hibik’s eyes flicked to Damjan at the corners, and then he even turned slightly to look at the Master Healer and his apprentice. Damjan shifted, clasping his hands behind his back, and I saw Seoc’s hands wringing in front of him.

They appeared very unnerved by me. I could read it in their faces plainly. All their anxiousness, their fear; I could see their thoughts etched into each flick of their eyes and twitch of their expression. But I knew they would not be able to pull a thing from the mask I had constructed. I had carefully stacked every last grain of mortar and chip of stone back into place. A masterpiece perfected over a long lifetime of necessity. A face sculpted from marble and polished as smooth as glass. I considered them each one more time, and they became somehow even more restless beneath my scrutiny.

“You are certain?” I said finally, and they all seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. I was happy my voice was flat and emotionless... considering the fear that pulsed through me at that moment. I felt faint, and my heart raced to try to provide the same blood currently rushing as fast as it could away from my head.

“Yes, Your Highness.” Hibik replied, bowing slightly. “We have confirmed it... The King has contracted the Rotting Sickness.”

“How is that possible?” I asked, my voice still flat but still firm. “I was told this sickness could not affect goblins. You have no record of it in your cities.”

Hibik hesitated, then glanced at the Master Healer, who bowed low until his long white beard scraped the floor by his toes. I tried to remember if I had been given his name, but felt as though I was swatting at drifting ash in a pitch black night. 

“In its natural form, we cannot, Your Highness,” He explained, “However, it seems to have… mutated.”

“And your magic?” I demanded quietly, and I saw him wince.

“This mutation… it seems to have targeted His Majesty's own innate magic. Turning it against him.” He glanced back towards the bedroom door, where the King in question lay in a potion induced slumber. “Therefore our healing magic is ineffective against it, save to help temporarily alleviate his symptoms.”

My heart thundered in my chest, pounding relentlessly against my ribcage. I became distinctly aware of each crescendo of my breath, crashing in my ears like the waves of the ocean upon the shore. For a moment, I couldn’t do anything else. I stood, trying to bury the sinking dread that threatened to drag me beneath the cold waters. Trying not to linger on thoughts that grabbed at the corners of my consciousness and shook me for attention. I stubbornly pushed it all down, and stood like a statue for another long moment as I did.

I realized belatedly the tension rising in the room again at my silence. They were at a loss, I realized. None of them knew what to do... They were all waiting for me to decide. To command them. I flicked my hollow gaze to Hibik briefly, then returned my attention to the Healer. Trying to fight my way through the numbness to force sound from my lips.

“Then what is the King’s prognosis?” I barely recognized that the words came from my own mouth. They sounded distant and hollow, even to me.

“... The next few days will be critical to His Majesty’s recovery.”

My whole body stiffened at his words. I adjusted my tongue in my mouth momentarily before continuing. “And what are his chances?”

I saw the Healer hesitate, and glance to his second. I didn’t need to hear his words to know his response. It was written plainly across his face. My blood ran cold. “I am afraid… they are not good.”

It took every last ounce of my strength not to collapse. I had imagined myself into stone, and embodied a statue of a man instead of one made of flesh and blood. Withdrawing deep into the walls of my own design. Ones I had begun to turn a critical eye on.  Ones I had dared to start to disassemble. Now ones that I needed almost as much as the air I drew in; elsewise I would melt into a helpless pool of gelatinous goo.

“What can we do to improve them?” I inquired stiffly. “What treatment are you attempting?”

“Rest.” The Healer spoke through his teeth, and I could see the sorrow lingering in the corners of his eyes. “Broth, when he can manage it. Keeping his temperature down… The majority of the battle will be up to the King alone now.”

I nearly bit my tongue to keep from snapping it at him. That was it? That was the best they could do? No teas, no potions. No magical charms or amulets or anything else? He was a King! Surely no expense would be spared for his treatment. There must be something more they could do. Honestly, I would settle for spiritual circles and prayers to dead ancient gods… The realization that it was because it didn’t matter who he was did not settle well on my shoulders. I quickly sought to think of something else and shifted my gaze to Hibik.

“The other goblins who came with us to the human Capital. Have they shown any signs of the sickness?”

He shook his head so hard his big ears flopped audibly. “No, Your Highness.”

I nodded curtly. “They shall be quarantined as a precaution. And warded, if possible. Any and all preventative measures put into place.” I looked back at the Healer and considered him with a harsh eye. “I do not want this to spread. Any spare resources will be utilized for researching a method to combat it. And I want a Healer to certify the Princess’ warding is still in place.” 

Both Hibik and the Master Healer bowed. “Yes, Your Highness. Right away.”

“Consider all non-essential duties on hold for now.” I continued. “Everything that can proceed without approval or review may do so, but everything else must wait.” I looked at Hibik sternly. “If it is an urgent matter that cannot be suspended, bring it to me. I will trust these matters to you. Seoc shall take over your duties in the capacity of serving the King’s personal needs as well as my own while you handle those affairs. In the meantime,” Now I turned to Damjan. “Word of the King’s condition should remain within these walls. Only individuals who absolutely need to know will be informed. I want the guard doubled, I want reconnaissance and intel efforts increased, in case this was somehow intentional. I will not have us caught unawares.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Damjan bowed his head as well, seemingly pleased with my orders.

“Then go. Bring a report as soon as you have it.” I dismissed them, and watched as the Healer and his apprentice left. The former assuring they would be back soon to check on the King. The other three lingered. I steeled myself, reaching out one hand to the back of the couch as casually as I could. Pretending I didn’t need it to keep myself standing. “Is there more?”

The King’s Secretary hesitated, and he glanced over to Damjan for reassurance. The General stepped forward, jerking his chin at me.

“There is a matter of state that requires your attention, Your Highness.” He told me.

I clenched the back of the couch to prevent my hand from shaking. Looking off towards the King’s bed chambers again. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be gone. To run, perhaps. To run until I couldn’t breathe. To find some dark hollow place and crawl into it. I wanted to be alone, but feared that as much as I feared letting anyone see the crash of emotions inside me. I couldn’t access my head through the cloud engulfing me. I couldn’t handle the pulse beneath my skin. I couldn’t handle the throb in my chest or the aching numbness there. It was only a lifetime of practice that kept my feet beneath me and my mouth returning formal and practiced answers.

 “Go on then, General.”

“The King has no heir.” He told me curtly, and my eyes jerked to him. “We need to be sure we are prepared-”

“The King lies ill-” I interrupted him sharply, my voice flat but heavy with denial “-No more than a few feet from where you stand. And you would speak of successors as if he already rests on his deathbed.”

I nearly choked on the word. But Damjan’s heavy brow furrowed, and I heard Hibik sniffle sadly, shaking his head. My lips pursed as the apprehension settled like an iron shroud. Dragging us all down towards the ground. Seoc shifted, his own face bleak and morose. I couldn’t settle my gaze on any of them for the pain of their expressions, plainly evident on their features, and so stared at some distant point beyond them.

“... The King requested this himself.” Damjan finally said, his voice thin, his face hard. He seemed to be trying as hard as me not to let his emotions overwhelm him. But he didn’t have my practice.

“Requested what, exactly?” I demanded, pleased that my voice didn’t reflect any of the storm inside me.

The General didn’t answer. Instead, Hibik tentatively stepped forward. Pulling a rolled parchment from under his arm. Holding it out to me gingerly. I took it as carefully as if it might explode at any second. I glanced around at them warily, then slowly unrolled the parchment. My eyes skimmed across it, hardly reading at all. Certainly not comprehending the majority.

Ice cracked through my veins as I realized what I held in my hands, and my whole body finally went completely numb. I blinked at it stupidly a few times, staring at the King’s signature at the bottom. Re-reading the final line several times over... 

“...With their mutual consent, and in the presence of Witnesses, are entered and joined into lawful and holy wedlock...”

“... A-a marriage license?” I stammered before I could catch myself. Unable to hide the disbelief.

Hibik nodded slowly. “His Majesty had me compose it this morning after he spoke with the Healer, and signed immediately thereafter before he…” He swallowed loudly. “I-it was his wish that you sign it as well. That you might be named his-”

“That is preposterous.” I raised a hand, silencing him before he could finish his thought. “Dowager Queen Morag still lives. Certainly she-”

“The Dowager Queen was forced to step down from the throne when the King was 19 due to her waning health.” Now it was Damjan’s turn to interrupt me. He took a long step forward, standing beside Hibik and pulling my attention to him. “I can assure you, Your Highness, it has not improved in the last decade to warrant her a viable heir.”

I stared at him, then shook my head slightly. “I am human, I cannot-”

“You are the only one who can lead us.” The General snapped, his voice raising with each word. “If you do not sign this contract, and the King dies-” A shudder went down my spine at the word “-the Kingdom will be thrown into a bloody civil war while various factions fight for the throne.” He took another step forward, looking more and more desperate. I craned my head back to look up at him. “The noble houses will tear each other to shreds, and the economy will fall into ruin. And your Peace Treaty will become null and void. Leaving the human Kingdom vulnerable to attack.” He reached out as if to grab my wrist, his face contorting into a pained snarl. “If you refuse to sign, you will be condemning both Kingdoms to chaos and-”

I smacked his hand away soundly, my stance instantly becoming guarded. I held the parchment out to the side, as if to keep him from reaching it. My eyes flashed hot and angry.

“Grier is NOT dying.” I told him, and couldn’t help the sharp edge to my voice. He searched back and forth across my face, and I pursed my lips. “... I will not sign.”

With that, I turned, dropping the contract on the nearest end table. As if it were a hot coal searing into the tender flesh of my fingertips. I heard a bustle of activity behind me, as the goblins all began to speak at the same time.

“You are dismissed.” I said coldly, ignoring their sputtering, pausing briefly at the door to the bedchambers. “All of you.”

I didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t leave room for one in my command. I simply shouldered open the door and pushed it closed quietly behind me. For a moment, I leaned against it, working hard to compose myself. From across the room, I could hear Grier’s labored breathing, and each breath stabbed like a knife into my chest. I took my own shuddering attempt at it, felt my knees wobble beneath me. I choked on the air I tried to force into my lungs, and shook my head stubbornly. By the time my skull did clear a little, there were no sounds beyond the door behind me. I let a heavy hiss of air pass through me, but it crackled audibly as it fell from my mouth.

As quietly as possible, I made my way over to the bed. Stumbling as the numbness in my chest reached my legs. An armchair had been pulled to his bedside, and I slowly lowered myself into it. Then dropped my face into my hands.

 Why was this happening? What had I done wrong? I raked my brain over and over again. Going over every minute detail of the previous two days. Had it been our time in the village? Or had the sickness already spread to the castle by the time we had arrived? Perhaps Lord Tipp had been a carrier. Grier had never told me how he got rid of the irritating noble. A great hook jabbed into my heart as a flash of memory reminded me of the little girl in the lower city who had hugged me. Then later that same day, Grier had also…

I rubbed at my face, then ran my hands over the back of my neck. It didn’t matter how anymore, I told myself. And there was no way to know for sure. I tried to push it aside, sneaking a glance at the goblin out the corner of my eye. He shifted slightly, as if sensing my gaze. Though I knew the draught the Healer had given him would keep him in a deep sleep for some time yet. I swallowed my anxiousness, sitting up and reaching over to pluck a washcloth from beside the basin set on the bedside table. Needing to do something to stave off the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm me. As soon as I leaned over him, I could feel the heat pouring from his body. It set the ache back into my chest, but I gritted my teeth and pushed his hair back out of his face. Gently, I dabbed at the sweat lining his brow. He sighed in his sleep, turning slightly, but otherwise laying still. I watched the shape of his eyes move beneath his lids, and wondered what he was dreaming about. If he was dreaming at all.

I stroked the cloth down the side of his face, tracing the edge of his jaw distractedly then down his damp neck. They had dressed him sparingly, with only linen trousers, and had laid him on top of his heavy blankets. A thin sheet covered him to keep off any drafts, but the soft fire that snapped in the small fireplace at the edge of the room kept his chambers warm. Bathing them in a dim orange glow. The enchantment on my eyes struggled with the shifting lights, playing games with the shadows at the edges of my vision. I paused, lingering with the cloth poised by his cheek again. My thumb came out, and I brushed the pad gently across his hot skin. My heart lurched in my chest, and I swallowed a painful lump.

I stood suddenly, dropping the cloth onto the edge of the basin. Unable to sit and watch him struggle to breathe. I blinked rapidly, then strode off. Only to halt a few paces away. Unwilling to leave him there alone. I hesitated, looking back over my shoulder. Torn in half by the two pains; one of seeing him in this state, the other of not being able to see him at all.

I stared at the ground blankly for a few minutes before my eyes actually saw the crumpled shirt there. Slowly, without thinking, I bent down and picked it up. The spicy sweet scent of him wafted off the cloth, and I had to resist the urge to bring it to my nose. Instead, I folded it, carefully and delicately. Then looked around. A small basket of washing seemed to be by the door… I paced over to it slowly and placed the shirt inside. Another glance found a pair of trousers just shy of the basket. I took those up and folded them as well. Then another shirt. Then… a jacket, I supposed, though it was hard to distinguish based upon what seemed to be an extra sleeve.

Soon I found myself organizing and sorting the other various items in the room once the clothes had all been piled in the basket. I ran my hands over each, imagining what Grier might have to say about it. Wondering how he had come upon it, or what significance it had to him. I fabricated a few stories to entertain myself as I worked my way around the room. There was certainly no small supply of things to resituate and reorganize. I found some semblance of order amid not only the chaos of his personal belongings, but also the chaos swirling in my head. I let my mind wander, thinking hard and deeply for a long, long time as I worked. Returning to the bed every little while to reach out and reassure myself I was not imagining the strangled breathing, and that Grier was still there…

...

“Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you?” Came the weak voice from the bed.

I spun, nearly dropping the small chest I was holding. Beady red eyes peered at me from amid the billowous blankets. My breath skittered from my throat, and I was hard pressed to draw in a new one with how tightly it constricted behind the first.

“You should be resting…” I told him, placing the chest quietly back on the table. It was the first time he had opened those scarlet eyes of his all day, and I couldn’t help but move to the bedside despite my words. “I-I’m sorry if I woke you.”

He gave me a small, feeble smile. “Did I?”

Slowly, I sat in the chair beside him, leaning over my knees to better make out his quiet voice. “... Did you what?”

“Ever tell you?” He pressed.

His voice was thin and breathy, as if each word took the entirety of his lung capacity to speak. I shook my head carefully, glancing down at my hands in my lap. 

“... You mean in the throne room? When I came-”

Now it was his turn to shake his head, and he did so sluggishly. “No. That was the second time.” My eyebrows raised, and he grinned a little more, still half the strength of even his smallest usual smile. “The first time… must have been almost three years ago.”

“... Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered. “W-we… It’s only been maybe a month-”

He hummed softly, and his eyes drifted closed. But his hand moved, reaching out from beneath the covers until the fingertips brushed my knee near the side of the mattress. I glanced down at them, and my heart skipped. At first, I thought perhaps he had fallen back asleep. Then his soft voice petered from between his thin lips again.

“I had been told there was a Prince at the frontlines. Though the messenger couldn’t say for sure which Prince… I assumed not the Crown Prince. He rarely left the castle…” The corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smirk, and he mumbled around its shape. “We didn’t know much about the human Royals then. Only that the King had three children. Two of them Princes… it had never been anything we cared to know more about.” His eyes cracked back open, and he rolled them to look up at me. “I insisted on going to see. No one could talk me out of it.” His teeth flashed beneath his lips briefly. “... I can be very stubborn.”

The goblin moved his fingers again, grazing against the folds of fabric on my pant leg. I noticed beads of sweat beginning to drip down his brow again. Noticed his wild hair was nearly plastered flat to his scalp. I turned, plucking the cloth from the water basin on the end table. I squeezed it out, then gently dabbed at his forehead. He sighed tiredly as the cool cloth touched his skin, and his eyes drooped closed again. I rolled the cloth over the back of his neck, and pushed his hair out of his face. I could feel the heat still pouring off him, and it set the ache in my chest throbbing once more. Though that hadn’t let up since that first morning a few days prior.

“Damjan and his lieutenant escorted me,” He continued, and I almost started at the sound of his voice, I had been so lost in my thoughts, “To the crest of a hill, right at the disputed boundary. They cast so many defensive spells and charms on me, the air felt electric… Still, they had me keep low, out of sight, and we were… a few hundred yards away?”

“Shhhh.” I told him, refreshing the water on the cloth and wringing out the excess again. “...Save your strength.”

He ‘hurmphed’ softly, his only acknowledgement of my words before he promptly ignored them. “There was… a thin line of trees lining a trail that ran parallel to us… They looked like... like twigs… it was autumn, so there were no leaves, and everything was grey and bland and…” His voice faded weakly. I could hear the dryness, and returned the cloth to the basin.

“Here.” I told him, scooping my arm gently beneath his shoulders and propping him up as I brought a goblet of warm, watered-down broth to his lips. He sucked at it greedily, but only managed half before he fell back against my arm. I slowly lowered him to the pillows as he licked at his lips.

“... I had never seen so many humans in one place before. They all looked… broken. Worn and battered. Covered in mud.” He continued, and his eyes sought mine as I settled back into my seat. “Most were limping… I could almost smell the blood on the air.” He blinked slowly, and his gaze became distant as he fell into the memory. “I remember thinking… that they looked like they were behind bars… because of the trees and shadows… And they trudged single file down this muddy stretch. Those that could, anyway. All but indistinguishable from one another.”

I was surprised by the vibrancy of the scene he described, and more surprised to find it a familiar one. I had a pretty good idea of the time he was talking about; and my heart dropped at the memory. It had been a long trek back from the front. Defeated, discouraged. Injured and weak. I wracked my brain to try and think of the particular day, as they all blended together. I had been so lost in my sorrow then... Goosebumps shot across my skin to think there had been an audience during that solemn trudge. My brow furrowed as I recalled it, and I glanced at him sidelong. Wondering where this was going.

“...I was told we had missed the Prince. We’d have to move further up the line if I wanted to see him… because there was no way he would be with the injured men below. Damjan was positive we wouldn’t see him at all.” He sighed weakly, his head lightly tossing to and fro. “There was no glory. No fanfare or bright banners. Just blood, and filth, and mud, and…. Nothing for a Prince, he had said.” He sighed again, his breath even thinner. “Damjan sent his lieutenant to scout ahead. To try and find out if the Prince was further up. But I stayed to watch… I was… horrified by what I saw. I don’t think…” His eyes closed briefly. “I don’t think I had ever really… understood what the war meant. Until that moment.”

“...Grier…” I started to protest, readying an argument for him to save his strength again.

“Then, one of them fell.” He persisted, still ignoring me, his face scrunched. “There was a lot of shouting… we couldn’t make it out from where we were… chaos and noise and...” Suddenly his eyes came back, and he looked over at me, a small light in their scarlet depths. “And then… then you were there… You came up from somewhere near the back of the line. I didn’t realize who you were at first. Damjan had to point you out… I saw the men fall silent and part like water to let you through. No bowing, no fanfare. Just… quiet respect.” I flushed, starting to shake my head. His hand came out, and I glanced at it as it lingered next to my knee again. When I checked his face, his eyes were closed. As if to see the moment more clearly. “You were nearly as muddy as they were, but I think you were wearing a different color than them. I couldn’t see your face though. You had your back to us…” His voice petered out again, and he gave a breathy sigh.

As the silence stretched for a breath too long, I reached out. Tentatively brushing my fingers against his wrist. As if to assure myself he was still there. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and I struggled to keep myself from being overwhelmed by the pang of sadness that sight brought. His hand slowly closed around my fingers, and I ached at the weakness of them.

“Within moments, you had organized the chaos… You sent someone for… a healer, I’m guessing. But you crouched down next to the fallen man. Called for water… wiped the mud from his face with your sleeve…” I slowly turned my hand in his, listening quietly to his words. I couldn’t remember the day he was talking about. Not specifically… there had been many such moments. I tried to remember the trees, and the hills. I started to shake my head again. He gave my fingers a feeble squeeze, stilling me. “And then…” He drew in a sharp breath, and a smile split his lips slowly, his eyes opening. “And then you turned… and… And I swear it was like the sun coming out from behind the clouds…”

“Grier…�� I mumbled again, uncertain what else to say, my ears hot.

“I decided it.” He declared softly. “Right then and there… I decided to end the war… I saw your face and…”

“Y-you should get some rest.” I stammered, and carefully began to untangle his fingers from mine. “... You’re not making any sense.” I shook my head a final time. “You act as though you were looking for me.”

“I was.” He breathed, nodding groggily. “I wanted to see you.”

I frowned down at him, but his eyes were struggling to stay open. I pushed his hair back out of his face one more time and tucked his hand against his body. My lips burned with questions. Instead, I sat back in my chair, watching him quietly for a moment as he fought with the fever that dragged at his consciousness.

“Sleep.” I told him. “... W-We can… we can talk more when you’re better.”

He scoffed groggily at that. Then his eyes fluttered shut. And I was left alone with just my thoughts and his ragged breaths to fill the silence.

....

“Your Highness,” Came Hibik’s soft voice, “The Princess is here to see you.”

I nodded dumbly, rubbing a hand across my face and moving to stand with as much care as if each of my joints were made of glass. I glanced back over at Grier as the smaller goblin came deeper into the room. 

“I will stay with him, Your Highness,” Hibik assured me gently, “You can see your sister. And get a real night’s sleep.”

I said nothing for a moment, simply watching Grier without moving. But the King was still sleeping, despite the voices around him. It had almost been two days since the last time he had woken… Finally assured that was still the case, I turned back to Hibik.

“... I’ll be back after I speak with Morgana.” I told him.

“Your Highness, you need to rest too-”

I shook my head. “You need not concern yourself, Lord Hibik.” I assured him. “I am fine.”

Hibik looked me up and down. “... Your Highness, you have been at his side since he first… I-it’s been days. You have barely eaten-”

I waved him into silence. “Keep an eye on him. I will return shortly.”

Morgana bounced excitedly to see me again, but quickly remembered where she was and became more solemn. Hibik had lit the candles and fireplace of the King’s foyer, and there was plenty of space to sit now that I had begun to properly clear it all. I had even sorted through the huge armchair of discarded clothes and sent everything off to be carefully washed. Apparently he had a large closet off his bedroom, though one would’ve been hard pressed to tell based upon the state of his wardrobe scattered across the rest of his rooms. My sister skipped over and gave me a hug, which I returned distractedly. My eyes lingering on a familiar piece of parchment, still where I had left it on the end table after Hibik had given it to me to read... 

“I brought you some uyapik,” she told me, pulling a wadded up handkerchief from her pocket, spotted with grease, “And a story to read.”

I turned back to her and ran a hand over the top of her head. “Thank you, chickadee. You are very sweet.”

She led us over to the armchair facing away from the bedroom door and sat me down. Then stood with her hands on his hips until I had eaten both uyapik to her satisfaction, before carefully climbing onto my lap. I wrapped my arms gently around her, and she pulled out the book as she rested her head in the crook of my neck.

“Is Grier getting better?” She asked me softly as I flipped through the pages to the spot she had bookmarked for us.

I stiffened slightly at her words, then swallowed a lump in my throat. “... He hasn’t gotten worse, at least, chickadee.” I replied honestly, my voice thin. I pushed her hair back out of her face. “... How is Safa? Is she taking good care of you?”

I heard the smile in her voice as she responded. “She’s very silly. She tells me all kinds of fun stories, and we’ve been all over the castle.” She said. “But she insists on wearing these big poofy dresses, and she can’t move very quickly. And she always wants to play with my hair. She says it’s very thick and soft and pretty. I told her only you can do my hair. I don’t like when anyone else does it.”

“She sounds nice though.”

“... Can you come out with us, Niko?” She asked softly. “... Maybe Grier can come too. Safa says fresh air can be good for sick people. Maybe it’ll help.”

I gave her a weak squeeze. “I-I… I don’t so, chickadee… He’s needs his rest...”

“Oh…” She sounded so sad, I felt my eyes grow damp. It was too close an echo of my own sorrow.

“Perhaps you can bring him some flowers instead,” I suggested, trying to distract myself as well as her, “That would help, I am certain. Bringing a bit of the outside in.”

Morgana bounced a little, reaching up to ring her arms around my neck. “I can do that. I’ll get him the biggest, smelliest, most colorful flowers I can find.”

I buried my nose in her hair. “That sounds wonderful, chickadee.”

“And I’ll bring you lilies, Niko,” She told me, “If goblins have lilies. That way you can feel better too.”

I choked back the tears again, and nodded. Letting her take the book from my hand in her usual impatience and flip through the last few pages to reach her bookmark. I listened quietly to her while she babbled, alternating between reading the passage and adding in her own flourishes. I even managed to close my eyes, leaning my cheek against the top of her head. I could almost forget when I was with her. Could almost pretend everything was still right in the world. Could pretend I didn’t constantly worry about what the future might have in store. For both of us now, I remembered with a stab of guilt, since I had brought her here with me. And I could almost remember that strange but lovely warm feeling I had been starting to enjoy before… 

I almost missed the soft click click click on the stone floor marking someone’s approach.

“Well now, is this the Onsakin I have been hearing so much about? Pah!” Came the thin, wiry voice. “She looks just like you, mo shiba.”

I turned in surprise to see the Dowager Queen standing a few feet away, cane in hand. Quickly, I moved to stand, gathering up Morgana in my arms as I went. For her part, my sister looked curious, tilting her head to the side. I saw her taking in Morag’s voluminous skirts and dozens of jewelry bits and bobbles. She clutched the book to her chest as I slowly lowered her to the ground.

“Welcome back, Your Grace-” I greeted her respectfully, bowing as I placed Morgana back on her feet.

“Ina Morag, mo shibaba. I have told you this many times.” She tapped her cane on the floor to emphasize her point. 

Morgana tugged on my tunic, glancing up at me and then back at Morag. The question lingering in her curious eyes.

“Ina Morag, may I present my sister, Princess Morgana Delarosa Marie of Geriveria.” I intoned, hoping my voice didn’t sound too heavy with my exhaustion. I rested a gentle hand on the top of Morgana’s soft hair. “Chickadee, this is Dowager Queen Morag.”

“Pah!” Scoffed Morag. “You shiba have such long names. I do not have the breath for all this!”

Morgana tugged on my tunic again. Shyly waving me down so she could whisper in my ear. “What does ‘dowager’ mean?”

I slowly straightened. “‘Dowager’ means she was married to the old King,” I explained, “This is Grier’s mother.” I pretended like I didn’t almost choke on his name.

“You’re Grier’s mother?” Morgana said a little louder, sounding fascinated, her eyes going wide.

Morag nodded. “Yes, Onsakin, I am his ina.” She cocked her head to the side, her jewelry jangling as she did. “I have been wanting to meet you since you arrived.” She tapped her cane on the floor angrily. “But this abhama has not brought you to me yet!”

“What does Onsakin mean?” My sister asked, swaying from foot to foot as her excitement began to build. Her little mouth moved over the strange word tentatively, forming each syllable with great care.

“Ah, it means, ‘Little Princess’, I believe.” I told her.

Morgana put her hands on her hips. “I am not little!” She scoffed, then stood a little straighter. “I’m taller than you!”

“Morgana!” I scolded, but it lacked any strength behind it.

“PAH!” Laughed Morag, tapping her cane again. “I like this one! She is like you, she has spirit! Mian’we boshta!“ I felt the corners of my lips twitch, longing to smile, but feeling far too heavy to manage. The Dowager Queen considered this, and her scarlet eyes flickered to the bedroom door. “... How is mo apawi?”

“... No better, Your Grace.” I murmured softly, dropping my eyes.

She let my slip go by unaddressed, giving a soft ‘hmm’ instead. It sounded so much like Grier’s, I had to ball my fists to keep the quiver from my hands. I still could not bear to meet her eyes. I felt Morgana’s hand wiggle between my clenched fingers, and she gave my hand a gentle squeeze. I returned it gratefully, but had not the strength for more than that. I felt the tickling edges of shame that my emotions and thoughts were apparently so plain to read, and swallowed nervously.

“He is strong, mo shibaba,” She assured me gently, then nodded herself, “He is young. He will pull through.” Her confidence seemed to wave momentarily, but then I felt her cane come out to tap the tip of my boot. “... He has a good reason to.”

“If you are Grier’s mother,” Morgana chimed in, “How come you are so small? Why is Grier so much taller than all the other goblins? Did you use magic to make him bigger?”

“PAH!” Morag laughed again. “Perhaps someone did put a charm on the boy. You should have seen that abhama when he was born, Onsakin. He was so tiny, you could fit him in your pocket.”

Her eyes lit up. “Really? Are all goblins that small?” She glanced up at me. “I thought maybe Grier’s mother might be an orc, like Damjan’s.” Her attention turned back to the Queen. “Was his father tall? Or did you really use magic?” I noticed her eyes narrow. “... You’re not an orc, right?”

Again, another melodic laugh. But in spite of its jovial ring, its familiarity stung. “PAH! No, Onsakin. I would be a very small orc indeed. They would have left me out in the cold as a child.” She rubbed her hands over her top of her cane. “His father was tall. Not so tall as your brother. But tall for a goblin.” She gave a toothy smile, sounding distant in memories for a moment. “And very handsome.”

“Apologies, Your Grace,” I interrupted before my sister could launch any more questions, “I am certain you came to see your son again. We will not keep you longer; I know you get tired easily-.”

“PAH!” She smacked my leg with her cane, just hard enough for me to jerk in surprise. Morgana giggled. “Do not tell me what I am to do, mo shibaba. I came to see you.”

“You came to see Niko?” My sister asked, bouncing on her toes a little.

One slender eyebrow raised at her nickname for me. But then she gave a small nod. “Yes.” She tilted her head back to the side. “He does not sleep. He does not eat. That blasted fool Damjan is worried, as is Hibik. As is Seoc, and Paye. And all the other lives you have touched since you first came here. They whisper of you in the halls.” She nodded again. “It has reached my ears.”

I stiffened again, feeling a slight flush at my collar at her implications. “I can assure you, Your Grace, I-”

I jumped onto one leg with a soft shout as her cane came out to whack me again. “Ina Morag, abhama! PAH! I have told you this.” Her scarlet eyes became hard. “You need to sleep, apawi shiba mo. To eat. You cannot wither here.”

“You can come with me, Niko,” Morgana put in, tugging on my hand lightly, “We can go to the gardens, then you can take a nap in the sun, and Safa and I can make you a picnic. It will make you feel much better!”

I glanced at both of them. Then over their heads at the door to Grier’s bedchambers. It felt like it loomed. A hollow shadow, and staring at it made the edges of my eyes tingle. I swore it shifted and warped as I watched, and I adjusted my tongue in my mouth. I realized belatedly that the two were talking still, and blinked stupidly at them. Trying to sort through what they were saying. It seemed to be some sort of plan for me; getting a bath, some fresh clothes. A shave. Morgana insisted I would sleep better out in the gardens, but was persuaded by Morag that could be saved for another day. Their banter was light hearted and quick; a stark contrast to the slow thrum of my own mind. I heard their words distantly, my mind wandering back to the dark room beyond the door...

“... I’m fine where I am, though I thank you both for your concern.”

The pair fell silent at my flat and formal words, spoken in the middle of some exchange I hadn’t fully comprehended nor bothered to register. I felt Morgana tug at my hand again, and looked down at her belatedly. Realizing she had done so more than once already. Her hazel eyes were wide, and her little bottom lip quivered. She stomped her foot softly.

“You’re my brother, Niko! I’m tired of sharing you!”

Had I been able to feel any part of my body at that moment, rather than feeling like a head detached and floating around, I might have winced at her words. Instead, I managed to find some command of my palm, bringing it up to cup her cheek gently. I tried a dozen words in my mind, tossing each aside almost as soon as they occurred to me. I thought to tell her that I wanted nothing more than to go to the gardens with her. Or have her tell me another story. To do anything and everything to make her happy... I thought to try to explain that the thought of leaving his room for more than a few minutes made me feel like I was falling apart. And had I been given the choice, I would’ve traded places with Grier in an instant. He would have managed all this much better than I…

“Pah!” Exclaimed the Dowager Queen, tapping her cane against the floor. “We’d best leave this one be, mo Onsakin.” She told her, and my sister glanced over her shoulder at the Queen, her pout still in place. “Sometimes it is better to wear away at stone slowly when you want to polish it...” Her scarlet eyes darted to my face. “Elsewise it might just shatter instead.”

I didn’t want to meet Morag’s eyes, as grateful as I was for her understanding. I was too afraid of the soft familiarity of them sending my heart into a deep ache again. Instead, I pushed Morgana’s hair out of her face, pulling her attention back to me.

“Why don’t you go with ina Morag for a little while?” I told her, then felt my gaze drop to the side sadly. “I-I think she’d be much better company than me right now.”

Morgana tugged on my hand again, her face starting to scrunch up. “No! I want to play with you, Niko!”

Again, when I found myself at a loss for words, uncertain how to calm my sister’s growing agitation, it was Queen Morag who came to my rescue.

“Tch, child!” She scoffed, and Morgana looked over her shoulder at her again, her nose all pinched. “The boy is sick too, can’t you tell?” She tilted her head to the side, making her many glittering bobbles jingle and clink. “Don’t you think if he could, your brother would like nothing more than to be with you?”

That gave Morgana pause, and she looked me over almost curiously. “You’re sick too, Niko??”

I started to shake my head, but made a soft exclamation of surprise instead as Morag’s cane smacked my calf. My sister’s face twitched out of her irritation slightly at the sound. 

“Of course, Onsakin!” She declared. “Your ibu is sante’fet. He cannot be anything else while his manwe is unwell.”

Morgana considered her, taking in the strange words she spoke with a thoughtful ear. “... He can’t?” She hesitated, then looked sidelong up at me. “... What does all that mean? Is that some weird grownup thing?”

“Your Grace, I-”

“INA MORAG, suit abhama!” She snapped at me, as did her cane, and I yelped again. This made Morgana giggle once more. The former Queen turned to my sister, nodding her head conspiratorially. “Come, Onsakin. I will tell you more. I know a great many secrets, you know.” She gave me a very similar sidelong look as my sister’s, and my brows shot up slightly at the sight. “More than this abhama, I am certain.”

I saw the curiosity in my sister’s matching hazel eyes and she squeezed my hand indecisively as the Queen started to make her way out of the foyer. At the main door, the old goblin paused, looking back before giving a jerk of her head to further entice Morgana.

“... Ok Niko… Maybe we can play later…” She told me after a moment. She tugged my hand, and I obediently dropped down to her so she could give me a hug. “... Feel better soon. I’ll come back to check on you and I’ll bring you those flowers.”

“Thank you, Chickadee.” I replied softly, returning her hug gently.

It was all I could manage. Not even a proper goodbye, or gratitude to the Dowager Queen for soothing my sister and entertaining her when I couldn’t even manage any semblance of a smile. I lingered where they had left me, having accidentally gotten trapped in the red glimmer of Morag’s eyes as she left. And feeling as if my heart was ripped from my chest at the almost familiar sight.

Slowly, I straightened, making my way sluggishly back to the King’s bedchambers. I dismissed Hibik distractedly. He said something to me, but I didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear anything but the sound of something in my chest cracking as I settled back into the armchair beside the bed.

I stared at the ground between my feet for a long time. When I had finally built enough courage to look over at the sleeping goblin in the bed beside me, I instantly found it shattered back to pieces as soon as I laid eyes on his quivering, sweaty form. Half buried amid oversized and overstuffed blankets and pillows. Shuddering and shivering with each breath. My eyes burned, but I stubbornly pushed that aside. Desperate to return to a statue, and feeling like I was trying to stick each piece of my walls together with sand.

The memory of his mouth came unbidden to my mind as I stared, my eyes drifting around his face. I remember the last time I had felt his against mine… A sloppy morning kiss, almost three days ago now… I felt a heavy weight inside me as I suddenly feared that was the last kiss we would ever share… Not even a proper kiss. One I had been too shy to return...

That anguish heavy on my heart, I stood, stubbornly, then bent over the bed. Reaching out with faltering fingers to skim along his jaw. I pushed back his damp hair, saw his eyes flicker beneath his lids as I leaned down... 

It was like kissing stone, and as soon as I lightly pressed our lips together I regretted it. Regretted that this was now the memory etched into me. Not his warmth. Not the taste of his smile. Just something clammy and still... I fell into the armchair, dropping my face into my palms. It was too much… I couldn’t… I shivered, then swallowed hard. Trying to steady myself. Trying to push away the fear that maybe… maybe he wouldn’t get better after all… and the fear of realizing exactly why that thought hurt me quite as much as it did...

....

I stirred at some point, dragging from the listlessness of sleep. Pulling my head out of the realm of dreams and floating back down to my corporeal form sitting in the armchair like a feather falling onto the still surface of a pond. For a long moment, I forgot where I was. I didn’t remember falling asleep. Perhaps at some point the numbness had simply dragged me from my consciousness, but I didn’t know when that had been. My eyes blinked, adjusting magically to the dark of the room. I wasn’t sure how I could tell; perhaps it was the strange heaviness of the air. Or some quality of its stillness. But I knew it was late.

The ragged breath of the King sent a shiver down my spine, and I looked over at him in the bed beside my chair. I sighed quietly, rubbing a hand at my face. My limbs were weighed down by unseen lead chains, and struggled to pull air into my lungs. When my hand finally dropped, I started slightly as I found a pair of bright red eyes now watching me. I recovered, straightening myself.

Y-you’re awake...” My voice barely above a whisper as if to preserve the stillness blanketing us. Depending on what day it was now, it had nearly three days now since he had last opened his eyes. “... How are you feeling?”

“Sore.” He mumbled, then blinked a few times sluggishly. “Heavy… Waterlogged.” A soft, petering sigh, then his eyes flicked back to me. “... Have you been there this whole time? How long has it been?”

I cleared my throat quietly, shifting. Casting my gaze away from him. “I-I just… I wanted... ” I swallowed hard, thumbing my palm. “I-I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

“... Nikostratus,” He breathed my name like the first lungful of cold air after a warm cabin, and I jerked at the sound, “... I need you to promise me something.”

I was already shaking my head before he finished. “No.”

“Nikost-”

“Don’t.” I snapped, a little harsher perhaps then I intended. My eyes jumped to his, and I shook my head again before dropping them away once more. “I-if you start trying to… t-to…” I pressed my thumb into my palm until it stung. “... Don’t start talking like… like you’re not going to get better.”

He drew in a deep, wheezing breath. “...I might not-”

“Don’t.” I said, a little louder now.

“I don’t want to ask this of you.” His voice sounded pained, and not just from the effort it took for him to draw in each breath. “Gods know… you’ve had enough weight dropped on your shoulders… but I need to… I need to think of my Kingdom too…”

I shook my head once more. “I-I’m not a goblin… I’m not a King-”

“You are the most honorable and trustworthy man I know.” He wheezed, and his hand came out towards me. “...But in the end it’s your decision. I won’t demand it of you…I won’t even ask it of you... just promise me you’ll make sure my people… our people, are taken care of.”

“I’ll promise you nothing.” I almost growled, my voice harsh. “Because then everything would be settled and taken care of and-” I stopped short, my words choking me. “And you…. Y-you…”

“My young Prince,” He murmured weakly, both hands reaching for me now, “My sweet Prince… come here… please… I don’t have the strength to charm you into my arms,” a small, wry grin flicked at the corners of his lips, “So I suppose I’ll just have to swallow my pride and beg.”

I didn’t have the will to deny his request, nor did any small part of me even want to try. I crumpled forward, dropping heavily out of the chair to my knees beside the bed. His hands cupped my face, tracing along it weakly. I shivered beneath his touch, squeezing my eyes shut. With the feeblest of tugs, he pulled at me and I obediently sank down to him, letting him wrap his arms around my neck. Letting him bury me in his chest as I bent over him. Drawing in the scent of his sweat slicked body and feeling his ragged breath on the top of my head. I brought one hand up, hooking on his arm as if to free myself. But it fluttered and lingered there instead.

“Y-you can’t do this to me…” I gasped against him suddenly, feeling my eyes start to burn as a sharp heat bubbled in my chest, “You can’t… you can’t leave me now… I can’t…”

“... You’ll be alright.” He told me softly. “You’re clever, and strong-”

“I don’t want to be strong!” I snapped. “I’m tired of being strong!” My hands grabbed at his shoulders roughly, tugging him a little closer. My grip faltered and fluttered as I remembered the state of him, and I gave a shuddering breath. Burying myself deeper into his embrace. “I-I… I can’t… I can’t do this again…”

His arms tightened around me, and I heard his breath shudder against my ear. His hand came to the back of my head, and I felt him stroking it weakly. So softly I thought I might shatter. My heart threatened to do the same.

“I… I have so much left I want to tell you… but … there’s one thing I need to tell you… one you deserve to know.” He murmured softly. “... I need to tell you how… how I found you…”

I would have drawn back to look at him, but suddenly felt as weak as he was. So I laid limply in his arms. Listening to the ragged air pass through his lungs.

“A few years back... There was a young man… barely in his twenties if even that…” He explained in his thin and wheezing voice, “... He was badly wounded when we found him at the border… delirious… Half-dead already… The soldiers there did what they could for him, but he was… he was saying something they thought might be of import.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “They sent him to me.”

“... What was he saying?”

“He told us…” I felt his hesitation, and a strange weightless dread spreading through me at his reluctance. “He told us… he had loved a Prince…” I stiffened sharply, every muscle in my body becoming steel. “...And that for that crime… he had paid with his life.”

I jerked away from him, sitting up on my knees. My heart racing, my head pounding. I stared down at Grier, slack jawed and dumbstruck. 

“... I should have told you sooner. But I… I don’t know who he was to you. I-if he was anyone...” He stammered feebly. “And for the longest time, we thought he was just… just delirious. He never said his name, or anything else for that matter. Nor did we know what Prince he was talking about… We didn’t know where he was from… or how he had gotten there…”

I was lost in my memories for a long moment. Lost in dark hair and bright eyes. Soft skin and a wiry frame. And pain. So much pain I thought I might shatter from it. My walls started to raise, my shoulders stiffened. Seeking to defend my heart from that fate. I fought through the numbness that nearly overwhelmed me. Something about what he said was nagging me though. Snapping at the edges of my mind. Poking holes in the walls I tried to build. I blinked a few times, trying to steady myself. Trying to sort through my emotions and come back to just the words. I wondered if the click was as audible as it felt when the pieces fell into place.

“... Half-dead?” I breathed. “Y-you said he was wounded? Half-dead?” I shook my head. “N-no, that can’t be right… It couldn’t have been him… It wasn’t him… You found someone else.” 

“Nikostratus… I-I’m so sorry-”

“He died?” I cut him off abruptly, my voice thin as it pressed through the tiny opening that was left of my throat. “... Did… Did he suffer?”

Grier’s hand came to mine on the bed, and he shook his head weakly. “We couldn’t save him… but he didn’t suffer. We made sure of that.”

Just like that, the walls I had been trying to build imploded. Crumbling into hundreds of pieces around my heart. Without their protection, the emotions slammed into me. I stared down at our hands numbly for a long time. My heart ached, my head throbbed. There was an extended silence, while I tried to process everything suddenly hitting me full force. While I tried to pull the knife from my chest just enough to pull in a breath. It was too heavy. All of it. I couldn’t hold it... I felt my lips working to release the pressure; tasted the sound of my words even though I had not willed them forth.

“... I thought I was...” I told him, my voice whisperingly soft, “I-I thought… H-he was… He was my second… on the frontline…” I shifted, still kneeling beside the bed and staring at his hand on mine. “H-he… he was k-kind… and sweet… and s-soft…” My voice broke and I started to shake. “He… W-we drank too much… we forgot where… w-where we were… just for one night... it was just one night… and… and I… I-I forgot… I forgot who I was…”

“... Nikostratus…”

I squeezed his hand, then clamped my eyes so tightly shut I was seeing sparks behind my lids. “I-I thought I had… I th-thought he would… but… b-but he came back again…” I choked on a sad laugh. “He tried to come back w-when he knew we could… wh-when he thought we could be alone again… b-but… but…” I took a shuddering breath, unable to stop my confession. “They... th-they thought he was trying to… to leave... T-to desert… they-they caught him in the larder… they brought him to me ‘red handed’... t-to pass judgement...” I pulled my hand back, despite his attempt to catch it as I fled. He was too weak to pin me there, and his touch burned my shame deeper into me. But I met his eyes, my own rimmed with a redness to match his irises. “Th-the punishment for desertion i-is… is death-” I choked again, and shook my head fervently.

“... What happened?”

“I-I… I couldn’t... “ My lips were shaking so hard, the words refused to form properly on them. “I-I couldn’t tell… I couldn’t t-tell them… I let… so I let them…” I shook my head again. “Bread, Grier! H-he was just getting extra bread for us… f-for me… He was sweet… He was … so naïve… so hopeful… he… h-he was… and… a-and they wanted me to… t-to… to… they expected me to...” I closed my eyes again, and felt the tears drip down the corners. “I-I was t-too… too ashamed… I was t-too weak to… to tell them… to explain…”

“It’s alright,” He murmured, and reached to pull me down again, “It’s not your fault.”

I jerked away from his touch. “I-I couldn’t… I had to… I should have… I know I…  b-but… I couldn’t… I-I… I was... afraid… I was… I was s-so… I was so afraid...” I looked away from him, resting my elbows on the mattress and burying my face in my palms. “B-but… but I couldn’t let them… let them...“

“What happened next?” He pressed softly.

“I-I… I made a Royal Decree…” I gushed, “R-right then and there… I-I looked at him… I met his eyes… and… a-and I pretended I didn’t… I-I didn’t…” Again I choked, but shook my head, forcing the words out. “... I-I changed the law… and I banished him… o-on penalty of death, should he ever return… The fate for all deserters… f-from that day on…”

“... You saved him.”

“I betrayed him!” I gasped. “I-I looked him right in the eye, and… and when he needed me most… I pretended h-he was… he was n-nothing to me…” I dropped my head to the mattress, squeezing the back of my head with my hands. “The King was fur-furious that I had changed the law… and Gareth…” The name hitched in my throat. “... He knew… I could see it… in-in his eyes… He knew the truth…” I turned my head, so that I could look at him, even though my eyes were still damp and my throat still burned. “A-and now... And now you want me to… t-to…”

Grier’s hand came out, and he cupped it weakly against my jaw. “It’s not your fault-”

“H-how is it not?” I cut him off again, my words slurred and broken. “He had a family, He… He cared about me… he trusted me and I… and I-I…” I dropped a hand on top of his at my cheek. “And now you… y-you’re sick because of me… you’re sick because you tried to do something nice for me… A-and because… Because I let myself be... B-because I started to believe…”

“It’s not your fault.” He wheezed, and his fingers curled feebly around my jaw. Catching behind my ear. “Whatever happens, it’s not your fault. You deserve to be happy, Nikostratus.”

His hand tugged at me gently. I quivered, but let him pull me into his arms again. His palm slowly stroked at the back of my head. I slipped my own hands up, gripping his shoulders. I trembled beneath his touch, the feel of his hot fingers weakly tracing along the curve of my skull. The irony was not lost on me; that a man who may very well be on his deathbed was comforting me. It should be the other way around. I should not be pitching him my sorrow. I should be making this easier for him. I should be caring for him; I had spent my life putting others before myself, why couldn’t I now? Why was this time so different? So hard? I laid my cheek against his bare chest, feeling his damp skin against my face. My eyes pinched shut as they filled, burning as my throat closed up. A dark shadow loomed over me, enveloping my body in a hollow, unrequited misery. I felt his arms slowly wind further around me as the first tears dribbled down my cheeks and pooled on his chest. I tried to hold still, tried not to let my shoulders quake with the weight of my grief and guilt… I failed. And sobbed quietly against him.

“It’s alright… You’re safe here… It’ll be ok…” He murmured, and I buried my face deeper into his chest. Shaking my head. He stilled me with a soft ‘shhhh’. “I love you, Nikostratus. Nothing else matters but that.”

“Loving me is a curse.” I tried to pull back, but relented as his arms tightened, even weak as they were. “I should never have… I-I can’t…”

“If loving you is a curse, then it is one I will happily bear.” He breathed against the top of my head. “If loving you is a poison, I will drink every last drop, and writhe in agony for weeks. For years. Just to know this feeling for an hour.” He ran his thumb against my ear, and a shiver ran down my spine. “If your love is a dagger, I will plunge it deep into my chest until I can feel it in my heart. I don’t care what loving you is. Because it is mine. You are mine.”

“I-I’m not… Y-you can’t…”

“It’s worth it, Nikostratus. It’s worth every second. Having you here, with me…” His hot palm cupped my jaw. Running his thumb across the damp trail on my cheek. “Loving you… it is the best part of my life.”

I let him run his hands over my face and shoulders for a time. Feeling myself beginning to still once more. I felt empty, and hollow. A shell of my former self. I ran my own hand slowly over his shoulder. Numbly feeling the heat wafting off him and trying to push away what that meant.

“Y-you… I c-can’t… I can’t say… I won’t...” I tried to steady myself, breathing quietly for a time. “… I never got to say goodbye to him…” I murmured after a long while. “I-I always hoped he was… alive somewhere… happy, maybe…”

“... What was his name?”

I choked on my tears, shuddering slightly. “... Josep. His name was Josep Wolod… He was… he was 19…”

“And you?”

“... Maybe 22? I-I… I don’t remember.”

“You were both young.” His arms flexed weakly around me. “... You’re still young. They should never have…” I felt his swallow move through his throat and chest beneath my ear. “That you should be asked to condemn a boy to death...”

“I couldn’t do it… I never could…” I shivered again. “I-I banished him, b-but he was unharmed when… when…” My eyes widened even more, and the blood rushed from my face. I didn’t answer for several long, uneasy breaths. 

“When what?” He coaxed.

“When… when I had Gareth escort him to the border…”

I felt him draw in as deep a breath as he was able, and his arms wrapped as far around me as they would go. “If I ever see that man again, I will kill him.”

The hate in his voice was unfamiliar to me, and felt as foreign as the raspiness in his chest. I stayed still for a long moment, letting the tears trickle down my cheeks. Forgotten trails of my sorrow for memories I had tried to bury. For a grief I had never let myself feel. I blinked slowly, giving a soft sniffle. Then gently pulled myself free.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.” He rasped, fumbling for my hand. “Don’t apologize. Please, my young Prince... It’s not your fault.”

I wondered how much he would have to say that for me to ever have a hope of believing it. My chest ached dully at his words, and I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself. Feeling raw and unnerved. 

“I-I... I’ve kept you up too long… you need your rest.”

“I need only you.”

“Grier…”

“...Lay with me awhile?” He murmured, his eyes starting to blink languidly. 

I was already shaking my head. “I-I shouldn’t… you need to sleep.”

“I sleep better… when you’re with me…” He replied, but let me gently lift his hand to place on his chest once more. I watched his scarlet eyes slowly work their way sluggishly up my body as I stood, until they met my gaze. “... You see it right? You understand it now?”

“... Get some rest.”

“No.” He grumbled, then slowly started to slide up onto his elbows. Weakly trying to prop himself up.

“Wh-what are you-”

“Lay with me.” He gasped, even as his arms shook beneath him. “I… I want to…” A pained look filled his eyes. “... I need to be near you...” I lurched forward, catching him before he collapsed from exhaustion. “I… I want to know you’re safe… I can’t sleep if...”

Slowly, I lowered him back into the pillows, my arms gently tucked around him. His long fingered hand came up, and he weakly skimmed it along my jaw. Wiping away the tear stains lingering there. My brow was tight, and I felt a powerful, painful throb in my chest at his touch. I caught his hand in mine, hesitating briefly. Then I pressed it against my cheek with the strength he lacked. I saw him smile, one so fragile I thought my breath might shatter it. I squeezed my eyes shut to dam the fresh pain that welled in them. I turned into his palm, even daring to place a gentle kiss in its center.

“Please?” He begged, his voice weak. “Lay with me?”

I couldn’t hide my wince at the fear in his voice. I kissed his palm again, then gently brushed his knuckles against my lips. Slowly, I opened my eyes, looking down at him. After another moment, I nodded, and his face flushed with relief.

“Only if you promise to sleep if I do.” I warned.

He agreed sluggishly, and I removed my boots and vest, then carefully crawled in behind him. The goblin quickly turned, tucking himself into my chest. It was like holding a small fire to myself, and I struggled not to flinch against him. I felt him sigh, felt him relax deeper into my chest. I hesitated before I dared wrap my arms around him. As carefully as if he might break into a thousand pieces. My heart thudded so loudly I worried it would keep him awake.

“... Do you see now?” He asked me groggily, his breath hot on the nape of my neck. 

“Shhh.” I told him gently, bringing my hand to the back of his head. “You promised you’d sleep.”

A soft mumble of something incoherent escaped his thin lips. “... But-”

“Shhhhhh.” I hesitated, then carefully stroked my hand along his damp hair. “... I’m not going anywhere… Sleep now.”

.....

I woke to a quiet knock at the door, somehow having managed to fall into a sleep plagued with nightmares. I shifted, then looked down to find the goblin still tucked in my arms. His breathing was shallow and raspy, but rhythmic, and his eyes were closed. Another soft knock had me carefully slipping from his grip. Sliding to the edge of the bed to clamber quietly to my feet. His fever had retaken him, and he did not stir at my movement. I blinked away the last of my pain, wiping my face down with one heavy hand in case any lingered there. Gods, I felt so drained and tired...

I didn’t bother to don my boots or vest, adjusting my tunic and heading to the main door. Hibik and Seoc stood there, quiet sorrow listing in the corners of their eyes. I nodded to them, briefly wondering at what sight had greeted them in my own eyes, but feeling far too hollow to care.

“Your Highness,” Hibik dipped his head, “Apologies, but there is… a visitor. From the human court.”

I blinked at him stupidly, forgetting myself for a moment. “Who?”

They exchanged a glance. “... Sir Gareth, I believe is his name. He has asked to see you and the King.”

I must have looked… strange to them, based upon their reaction. It was as though he had heard us speaking of him… had heard my confession… Though I realized now I couldn’t even be sure how long it had been. Hours? Days? Logically, I knew the timing made sense. I could suspect his reasons for being here, nearly a week since we had left the castle I had grown up in. Yet I couldn’t help the anger that bit at me at the sound of his name. The goblins exchanged another look as I stiffened. Straightening my back. A small scowl formed on my lips, and I saw them latch onto that emotion amid the stone of the rest of my face.

“...Send him away.” I told them coldly. “I do not wish to speak to him.”

Another bow. “I would, of course, Your Highness,” Hibik murmured reverently, “But he insists he is here on official business.” He shifted nervously. “I can still have the guard escort him out,  if that is your wish.”

I stared at him for a long moment. Trying to think amid the swirl of emotions that threatened to rip my chest open. After a long moment, I stepped back, pulling the door open and heading back to the bed chamber for my boots and vest.

“Your Highness,” Seoc bounded after me, and when I turned to face him, I found a fresh tunic, vest, and coat in his arms.

“Thank you, Seoc.” I told him appreciatively, though my voice tasted numb in my mouth. 

I didn’t bother for modesty, hardly caring anymore, and stripped my old tunic before them to pull on the new. Seoc scurried for my brush as I did up the buttons on the vest and pulled on the coat. He quickly polished the toes of my boots as I scrubbed at my hair for a moment. I moved without thought, my actions those of someone else. As I passed the brush back to Seoc, my eyes lingered on the distant shape of the bed in the bedchambers beyond. My heart ached, and I felt the corners of my mask slip momentarily.

“... Stay with him.” I ordered Hibik. “Fetch me immediately if…” If anything changes. I finished silently, but didn’t dare to voice. If he wakes... Or makes a turn for the worse.

Hibik nodded solemnly, straightening slowly under the responsibility and trust I laid upon him. I turned and followed Seoc out into the hall. Down through the castle. To the main throne room. 

I recognized it as soon as I entered, and looked about in a dreamlike daze. Had it really only been a month since the first time I had walked through those doors? I moved slowly over to the dais, standing at the foot of it. I stared at the pillows. The piles of gems and coins still strewn about. At the towering carved stone pillars. I remembered the first time I had stood there. Looking up at Grier, his face full of mischievous smiles and composed of a powerful air of command. I had been scared then, I knew now. He had terrified me. He had looked properly monstrous, the creature of nightmares we warned our children about. I remembered the room darker, more sinister. But now I saw the same braziers were lit as they had been then, and the entire hall was bathed in a warm glow. It was mostly stone, yes, but with the splashes of color the goblins were notorious for. And empty. There were no guards lining the chamber, though I knew they were likely just beyond the door. There were no attendants, no members of Court. I stood alone, returning to that seemingly ancient memory. I half expected to find cobwebs, the place felt so old to me. But it felt... familiar too. More comfortable than any room of my old castle...

There was a great creak as the main door opened, and I glanced over to watch Gareth be let into the chamber. A hot poker stabbed at the base of my spine, spewing its heat through my core. I squared my shoulders, waiting quietly as he approached. My mask already perfectly in place. Knowing the man I had once called ‘friend’ would not see more than a stone Prince before him.

He dipped into a bow, one tight with constraint. He looked older than I remembered. His face gaunt, his hair greying at the tips. There was an unkept scruff on his neck, and his shirt was ever so slightly askew. I eyed it disdainfully as he slowly raised.

“Your Highness,” He intoned, “Thank you for seeing me.” I watched his eyes dart about quickly before returning to me. “Shall we wait for His Majesty here, or are you to escort me to him?”

“Speak your business and be gone, Sir Gareth.” I told him coldly, ignoring his question.

Eyes flicked at that, and I saw his scowl at the edges of his lips. But he dipped his head respectfully none-the-less. “... I have come to fetch the Princess, Your Highness.”

Ice would have been warmer than the blood pulsing through me at that moment. “On whose authority?”

Another dip of his head. “By request of Crown Prince Valerianus.” He informed me. “He sends word. It is safe for her to return now. I am to bring her home.”

My jaw tightened, and I looked him over. My glare was biting, and I stared at him for so long in silence that he shifted. Moved weight from one wide foot to the other. I saw his hand rest instinctively on the hilt of his sword. My eyes narrowed. I knew this man. I knew this man better than he knew himself. I knew every twitch of his face, every short coming of his mask. I knew his mannerisms, his ticks. And now, I knew his thoughts, even as he sought to hide them from me.

“Do you think me a fool?” I asked him tonelessly. 

His eyes flicked a little wider. “Y-Your Highness-”

“You are lying, Sir Gareth.” I neatly tucked my hands behind my back, squaring off with him. “Prince Valerianus would have sent word ahead. He would have sent a full royal escort for her. Not a single disheveled guard.”

“I can assure you,” He quickly returned, deciding to stick to his lie, “I am here on his Royal Highness’ authority.” I saw him work his jaw briefly before adding. “Would you incite a war? Keeping our Princess from us?”

“Take heed how you use your tongue, Sir Gareth,” I replied coldly, not taking his feeble attempt at bait, “Or I shall have it removed from your mouth.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, and he even fell back a step. But then he shook his head stubbornly. “I am here for-”

“You are here for yourself.” I interrupted, snapping back at him so sharply he recoiled from my words. “You were not sent by my brother. And if you were sent by the King I care naught.” I did not break my glare. “The Princess Morgana is staying with me.”

The color of his face began to shift as his anger boiled up in him. “You would deny a direct order from the King?? Your true King?”

“He has no authority here.” I replied. “And as he has disowned me as his son, he certainly has none over me.” I looked the old guard up and down. “If this was your feeble attempt to regain your favor with him, then you may return a continued failure and disappointment. Be gone from my sight, before I have you forcibly removed from it.”

Gareth changed tactics. “... Let me see her,” He said softly, “Let me see her, and tell her I miss her. Let me-”

“No.”

“Nikostratus, please-”

“You will not refer to me in such familiar terms,” My voice did not raise much in volume, but the authority in it made it sound as though it had, “I am Prince Nikostratus to you. And soon I will be King. You will afford me the respect due to my position and title. I will not warn you again.”

His eyes flashed red, and his scowl broke over his lips. “A King who lays beneath a King.” He spat disgustedly. “A lecherous pet for a foul beast.”

I barely kept my own anger from bubbling over, though my jaw clenched. “Get. Out.” I ordered through clenched teeth. “Now.”

“You were a good Prince!” He cried, his face still contorted in a mixture of rage and repulsion. “You were obedient, and respectable, you were-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. He returned the step he had lost, and took another closer. “These creatures have corrupted you,” He explained, his eyes bitter, “Please, Prince Nikostratus, if you ever cared for your Kingdom, if you ever once thought me a friend… we served together. We fought side by side-”

“Like Josep?” I snapped. His name felt like fire on my tongue.

Gareth froze, his eyes going wide before he could catch himself. I was nearly trembling with rage. My hands came to my sides, balled into fists so tight the knuckles were nearly white. I could see him thinking. Trying to ascertain what I knew. How I knew. I saw him glance about suspiciously, as if the answer lay in the shadows around us. The old guard slowly straightened, his features cold.

“... I did what I had to. To protect you.”

“To protect me from what, exactly??” I snarled, rage crackling through me. “Being myself? Being happy? Having any emotions at all??!” My voice was raising octave by octave now, and my brow furrowed heavily as heat coursed through my veins.

“Prince Nikostratus, you forget yourself,” He dared scold, “Remember your temper-”

“MY ANGER IS JUSTIFIED WHEN YOU MURDER A BOY IN COLD BLOOD JUST FOR BEING IN LOVE!” I roared, my voice thundering through the vast stone chamber. “And if you think that is a crime worthy of death, then you should have killed me too!”

I saw his hand move. I heard the snarl of his anger, saw the hate in his eyes. He stepped forward, and there was a SHIIIINK that echoed loudly around the chamber as he drew his sword. At the same time, I heard the slam of the wooden door as it was flung open and the guards charged in at the sound of my voice. But the rest was a blur. It was a blur as I stepped to the side. It was a blur as I dropped down, and drove my shoulder up. It was a blur as my hand swept out at the same time as my foot swept in. It was a blur as I twisted the lunging sword from his grasp and deftly spun it in my hand.

The next thing I knew, I was standing over him, the tip of his blade levied at his throat. His eyes were wide with fear and shock as he looked up at me from the ground where I had laid him low. The clanking of armor filled the room as the guard surrounded us, their own weapons drawn. Damjan was at my shoulder, his eyes dark with malice. Gareth’s own eyes darted about in a panic, a cold sweat breaking across his brow. His mouth fell open, and I saw him shake in fear.

“Y-Your Highness, please, I beg of you-”

“Gareth of Geriveria, for your crimes against King and Crown,” I saw him wince as I began, and pressed the blade in a little tighter, “... I banish you. On penalty of death, should you ever dare set foot in my Kingdom again... And should I ever have the misfortune of seeing you again,” I met his gaze with a steadfast rage and confidence, “I shall take your head myself.”

I tossed the sword to the side, and the guards swarmed in. Grabbing the old guard and hauling him to his feet. Beginning to drag him off at spear and sword point.

“Your Highness, please!” He cried over their shoulders, “Your father lies on his deathbed! He only wishes to see his child; the sickness has-”

“If that is true, then he has only his own stubborn pride to blame.” I shot back, unfazed, and did not budge from my spot until the man was dragged away.

Damjan shook his head at my shoulder, his face contorted in outrage. “Your Highness, if-”

“Make sure he is brought to the border unharmed, General,” I interrupted, and glanced over at him stiffly, “Escort him all the way to the capital if necessary. I would not have him made a martyr, or start another war for his sorry hide.”

That stopped whatever he had been about to say, and his brows shot up. Then he grinned eagerly, and bowed. “Once again, Your Highness, you prove wise beyond your years.” He replied reverently. “I shall be sure it is done.” He tilted his head to the side slightly as he rose. “Though I do hope the bastard is stupid enough to attempt to return.” He mused as he turned to march out after his guard. “I would like to put his ugly head on a pike myself.”

“...General,” I called after him, and the taller man paused, glancing back at me, “If what he said is true, about King Tibertius... I want to know.”

Damjan’s face grew stern, and he nodded. “As you wish, Your Highness.”

I felt my stamina quickly fading as Seoc bounded over, looking me over worriedly. I waved away his concern. “Bring me back to the King.” I told him. “And send word to my brother.” I continued as I followed him out the side door. “Let him know of the banishment. I have a feeling he shall issue one of his own in turn when he hears of the circumstances.”

A few moments later, my attendant bobbed and bowed. Wishing me a grateful farewell before darting off to do my bidding. I opened the main door, and at the sound, I heard Hibik raise from the seat in the chamber beyond. I met him in the foyer, already unbuttoning my jacket to slip it from my shoulders along with whatever of my strength remained.

“... How is he?” I asked softly, my previous rage draining from me so suddenly I felt light headed.

Hibik shook his head sadly. “I-I am afraid his fever seems to have returned in full force…” He glanced over his shoulder. “I can send for the Master Healer, but I am not sure-”

“There is no need.” I interrupted, slowly undoing the buttons on my sleeves to roll them up. “... I’ll take care of him.”

The goblin shifted from foot to foot, glancing over his shoulder again. “Your Highness, please, I beg of you to consider your own health and get some proper rest…”

I shook my head, then hesitated, looking off at some distant, unseen point beyond the floor at my feet. “... I thank you for your concern, Lord Hibik. But I will be fine. Though, I am most grateful to you for watching over him while I dealt with other matters.” 

Hibik bowed deeply, murmuring his own soft platitudes, if hesitantly. Then turned to slowly take his leave. My eyes drifted to the end table, where the parchment still sat, a quill at its side. I sucked in a tight breath, and found myself moving as if through molasses, my feet carrying me over to it of their own accord.

“... Lord Hibik…”

I heard him pause at the door, saw him turn out the corner of my eye. But I was in a cloud of my own making as I slowly made my way over to the table. I couldn’t even feel the quill between my fingers. Couldn’t see the page even as I dipped the tip in ink and hovered it over the parchment. I hesitated, staring for a long, quiet moment. Then slowly… carefully… I signed my name beside Grier’s.

The goblin quietly came up beside me as I straightened. Gently taking the quill from my frozen hand, and easing the license delicately from the table. I watched numbly, then turned my gaze away. Unable to reconcile myself with what I had just done, and feeling a heavy weight on my heart for having done so.

“... It seems in poor taste to offer you congratulations, My Prince,” Hibik breathed softly, somberly, “But I will offer you my thanks… and my sincere hope that this remains only as an unneeded precaution…”

I nodded, still not looking at anything on this plane of existence in particular. I was already moving before he turned to make his way to the door, but heard it click closed behind him before I had made it into the bedchambers. I closed that door as well, slipping off my boots and lining them up neatly with the numerous other pairs of his where I had set them. I eased off my vest, folding that and tucking it neatly on the bureau, alongside his own vibrantly colored tops. I trailed my fingers over them as I untucked my tunic from my trousers, letting it flow long and loose. I made my way over to the bed, my feet heavy, my heart dragging behind me. Quietly, I climbed in, crawling up to his side and resting my back against the headboard. As if sensing me there, the King shifted, rolling sluggishly. I carefully lifted him, laying him across my stomach. His skin was so hot it was still uncomfortable to touch, but I let him slide his arms slowly around me anyways.

I reached for the cool cloth, dipping it in water and brushing it across his bare, sweaty back. He shivered against me, and a lung quaking cough erupted from him. I pulled his hair into a soft plait, carefully laying it over the pillows instead of his shoulders, pushing it out of his face. He sighed, settling against my torso. Still in the fits of his fever induced sleep. Slowly I stroked the cloth back and forth over his skin, my eyes burning.

I sniffled softly, then cleared my throat. “... W-we’re married now, Grier…” I told him, my breaking voice barely above a whisper. “... I guess that makes this our wedding night…”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even flinch at my voice. I closed my eyes, but was unable to dam the flow completely before one large fat tear rolled down my cheek.

...

UPDATE: Part Thirteen HERE

[thecatandthekindle]

Review: Aurora’s End (The Aurora Cycle #3) by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff

I received a free copy of this book in return for an honest review. Many thanks to Oneworld Publications and NetGalley for the opportunity.

It was a long, long wait. In book publishing time it was only two and a half years from the first book in the trilogy to the last, but in reader year it’s been a lifetime since Tyler Jones rescued Aurora Jie Lin O’Malley from a 200 year sleep in stasis, in the process missing his opportunity to pick himself a crack squadron. Instead he was presented with a bunch of misfits no-one else wanted to work with. If you don’t know what I am talking about then you need to stop right here and go read the first two books as there are spoilers ahead for books #1 and #2.

For the rest of us, book #2 Aurora Burning ended on a monster cliffhanger, with the intrepid heroes of Squadron 312 split up and left in three separate life-threatening situations. Book #3 starts with a bang as Scarlett, Finian and Zila are flung backwards in time to a point where Terrans and Betraskans are at war. Auri, and Kal are flung forward to a galaxy overwhelmed by the Ra’haam with a only handful of galactic survivors left alive. In the present, Tyler, alone, must to try to save the Aurora Academy from a massive explosion which will kill the rulers of almost every species in the galaxy and leave the defence against the Ra’haam in tatters.

Though the trilogy is named for Aurora (both girl and Academy), she has never dominated the action. Every squad member has been given page time. Every squad member has played an essential role. Even the chirpy, handheld computer Magellan, has had part to play. Aurora herself is a character of contrasts. Small but powerful, young but very old, fragile but wielding immense strength. The girl out of time, chosen among the thousands of passengers on the Hadfield to carry the power of the Eshvaren and save the galaxy but still won’t let a swear word pass her lips. Of all the characters in the squadron, though, I admit, I loved Zila the most. Kaufman and Kristoff managed to take this character from emotionally closed to heart-wrenchingly caring in so few words and details. It was a master class in character development. “I am not feeling nothing.” Five words that broke my heart.

The Aurora Cycle is all about time: time travel, time loops, the girl out of time, even Aurora’s extended timespan in the Echo, but it is also about memory, the pull of the past against the future, the Eshvaren: - long dead beings leaving memories all over the galaxy, Aurora’s memories of her family, the Academy and it’s commemorative statues of the founders and instructions passed from leader to leader, and then there is the Ra’haam. The blue flower that both preserves and destroys all those it touches, which will always be, in my mind, a forget-me-not.

And so to the grand finale. The moment we have been waiting for, the epic conclusion of a three book saga. Sadly, after the monumental cliffhanger to Aurora Burning and the literal race against time, it just felt anti-climactic. I couldn’t quite get to grips with the metaphysical nature of some of the imagery. The losses didn’t feel like deep losses and the wins didn’t feel feel like epic wins. So, though it was a perfectly good ending with all the different story strands neatly tied up in a bow, it just left me feeling a little flat. Having said that, I have thoroughly enjoy this series. I loved the characters, the romances were interesting and I’m sure I will be rereading this series down the line. ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[briankernick]

BRIAN KERNICK, P.Eng, MBA Greenview Developments Ltd.

Brian was born and raised in the small town of Canmore, Alberta. His father owned Restwell Trailer Park just off main street Canmore. As Restwell Trailer Park expanded and grew, Brian developed interest and learned the basics of carpentry and development. As a kid, he learned to drive a backhoe and dump truck and how to hammer and paint.  

His first development project was in Canmore, called Grotto Mountain Village. Grotto Mountain Village was a highly successful 125 manufactured housing community. After finishing the project, Brian decided to get his Masters in Business Administration (MBA) in Australia. Brian completed his MBA in 1998 and then worked in several large real estate consulting firms working for blue chip companies. He provided strategic evaluation advice and hands on development management services to companies and institutions looking to make direct property investments, engage in real estate development projects or alternatively undertaking the divestment of property.  

Brian is an efficient, innovative, tenacious, performance-driven and methodical real estate developer with extensive multi-industry experience both across North America and abroad.  He is well versed in Project Development and Management, Economic and Financial analysis, Acquisition and Disposal Strategies, Site Assessment, Town Planning, Engineering and Building design, Market geographic and demographic analysis.

Brian incorporated Greenview in 1988 with the intention of moving closer to his family and friends in Canada. Under Brian’s leadership, Greenview Developments has been involved in the construction, development and management of low-rise and high-rise residential and commercial properties, mixed-use developments and hotels. These developments have led to economic success, bottom-line results and award-winning projects.

Greenview’s model is based on understanding the entire life cycle of the development of a project and partnering with other experts that have varied and complimentary backgrounds and have the shared experience of working well together.  Using this life cycle view, we aim to deliver the best possible results to all stakeholders involved.

 CURRENT ON-GOING PROJECTS

1.       HARBOUR LANDING BUSINESS PARK (REGINA)

Harbour Landing Business Park is a campus style office development consisting of four buildings each spanning 40,000 square feet (3-storey office building and a Tim Hortons coffee) in Regina, Saskatchewan.  It is located near Regina International Airport. Buildings 1, 2 & 3 have been fully completed and phase 4 has commenced. It is a suburban office park that is located on the corner of Parliament Avenue and Lewvan Drive just north of the new Grasslands retail development. Three of the four office buildings have been completed and are occupied. They are located within minutes of the Regina Airport and the new Global Transportation Hub. They offer excellent access / egress from Lewvan Drive and access to acres of parks and walking paths. The tenant mix consists of Saskatchewan Cancer Agency, Association of Professional Engineers & Geoscientists of Saskatchewan (APEGS), Porchlight, Saskatchewan Healthcare Employees’ Pension Plan (SHEPP) and Chartered Professional Accountants Saskatchewan (CPA).

 2.       AVLI ON ATLANTIC (CALGARY)

AVLI is a private intimate building located in historic Inglewood, adjacent to the longest park pathway system in North America, in Calgary, Alberta. A home to 65 units of luxury residences with 7 floorplans for every buyer, budget and investor with boutique and cutting-edge interiors. It is comfortable in its setting, proud of its attributes and home to those who have an appreciation for remarkable art.  AVLI on Atlantic features the finest in contemporary custom-made cabinetry and the stylish gourmet kitchens offer ultra-modern flat panel doors in a white high-gloss overlay finish with metallic edging.

 Greenview Developments is the managing partner in this $36MM project which is nearly complete.

  3.       WILLIAM OFF WHYTE (EDMONTON)

It is a 44 unit, four-storey condo building that believes in bringing style and aesthetics to your life. It is rated one of the top streets in Canada providing a home you can really live in and admire. The project is located in central Edmonton, in the community of Garneau, and just off the popular and lively Whyte Avenue. William Off Whyte was completed in early 2020 with sales ongoing. Being near the University of Alberta main campus and Hospital also makes it ideal for students who want a stylish place to live. William Off Whyte has nine-foot ceilings, beautiful modern exterior, Italian cabinetry, soft close drawers, quartz counters, underground parking and bike storage and a choice of three colour schemes to suit your style.  

 PAST COMPLETED PROJECTS

1.       Sage.Stone (Calgary)

Sage.Stone is a project in NW Calgary with total sales revenue of $40 million. Phase 1 (88 units) is 100% complete and Phase 2 (90 units) finished closings by March 2015.  

2.       Bordeaux in Hawkstone (Regina)

76 townhomes in North Regina with total sales revenue of $22 million has been completed.

3.       Skyy Townhomes (Regina)

Sales of 116 units commenced in June 2010 with total sales revenue of $22 million and the project was completed January 2012.

4.       Luxstone Landing (Calgary)

12 unit Townhome developments with a value of $3.3 million was completed in 2012.

5.       Sage Townhomes (Regina)

The sales of 176 townhomes commenced in December 2009 with sales revenue of $35 million and the project was completed in early 2011.

6.       Advantage West Inns & Suites (Fort McMurray)

This hotel was built from pre-fabricated modular units rather than standard stick-built construction. The 83‑room hotel opened in July 2004. After 3 ½ years of operation, Greenview Developments sold it in 2008 for $19,400,000 or $234,000 / room, a record price in Canada.

7.       Spring Pastures (Australia)

Completed 72-acre rural residential project worth $10m in Mapleton, Queensland within 2 years.

8.       Grotto Mountain Village (Canmore)

Grotto Mountain Village was a $15 million project, consisting of a 125-lot turn-key manufactured housing community on 24 acres, which won the mayors award for Urban Design, Community Neighbourhood Enhancement & Facility Construction in 1994.

 EDUCATION/ TRAINING

·         Masters of Business Administration – AGSM / University of Sydney, 1998

·         Graduate Diploma in Business Administration – AGSM / University of Sydney, 1997                                      

·         Bachelor of Science in Engineering – University of Calgary, 1992

WORK EXPERIENCE

SENIOR PROJECT MANAGER |   WESTCORP – LONDON AT HERITAGE STATION – CALGARY, AB                      2006 - 2008

Responsible for the construction of four 20+     story residential towers, 80,000 ft2 of commercial space, an 1,800-car     parkade, and a pedestrian bridge connecting the development with light     rail rapid transit.  The residential     towers include high line amenities and ample common facilities.   Started this project from the early     concept stages and set up a construction and management team, operational     and procurement processes, budgets, and construction schedules.    Oversaw all aspects of this large     construction project.

 PROJECT MANAGER | POINTE OF VIEW DEVELOPMENTS – CALGARY, AB                                                             2005 - 2006

  Tendered and negotiated all scopes of work, monitor     construction milestones, budgets and costs.

Planned and designed new projects, customer     walkthroughs and completion of deficiencies.

 SENIOR EXECUTIVE | KPMG NATIONAL REAL ESTATE SERVICES – SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA                                     2001 - 2002

 ·         Provided strategic property advice and off-balance sheet finance solutions to developers, financiers, government agencies and major blue-chip corporations

·         Feasibility and divestment advice on HIH Insurance.  HIH, and its 18 controlled entities, was Australia’s largest insurance company and it went into liquidation in March 2001. I acted on behalf of the provisional liquidator to maximize the proceeds from the sale of the properties.

·         Development and feasibility advice for the redevelopment of Bathurst Mount Panorama Precinct, one of the top three motor racing circuits in the world.  Bathurst 1000 is the Australian equivalent of Indy 500 in terms of motor racing and the event is broadcast to over 400 million homes in 54 countries. The Panorama Precinct is a multi-use tourism destination featuring restaurants, tourist attractions, cultural facilities, sporting and recreational facilities such as motocross, educational facilities, residential properties and nature park areas.

·         Facilitated the revision and expansion of Commonwealth Property Principles document for the Australian Department of Finance. This provided an appropriate discount rate and methodology for real estate decisions.

·         Reviewed feasibility and business case for NRMA (affiliated with the Canadian Automobile Association and American Automobile Association), to divest their existing operations in multiple locations and consolidate their staff within a new 38,000 m2 ‘Village’ campus style development.  

·         Prepared a feasibility and highest and best use study for ABC (Australian Broadcasting Corporation) Television’s Gore Hill site as well as planning and offering council advice.

 DEVELOPMENT MANAGER |APP PROPERTY PTY LIMITED – SYDNEY, AUSTRALIA                                             2000 - 2001

 ·         We had to seek out, assess and convert development opportunities. This role encompassed feasibility analyses, negotiation and deal closures with clients, sourcing and arranging property finance.

·         Development Representative for C+BUS (an RRSP company with over 320,000 members) in its $1.5B, residential development of over 1,600 lots, units and townhouses, called Breakfast Point. This role included feasibility assessment, project management, risk management, planning, sales and marketing advice

·         Managed feasibility analysis for a new World Headquarters for TAB Ltd. (Australia’s largest gambling firm)

·         Provided Property and E-commerce advice for Australia Post (equivalent of Canada Post)

·         Business plan and property advice for a 100,000m2 regional business park on the Central Coast (north of Sydney) for Festival Development Corporation (a division of the Department of Urban Affairs and Planning)

·         Venue Management analysis for the Sydney Cove Passenger Terminal Upgrade Circular Quay. (The Sydney Cove Overseas Passenger Terminal receives around 50 cruise ships a year as well as housing numerous restaurants and events).

[bibliofiles-in-a-greenhouse]

Mad, Bad, & Dangerous to Know: A Review

Today I will be reviewing Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know by Samira Ahmed. As always, there will be spoilers ahead, so read at your own risk.

~~SPOILERS AHEAD~~

Khayyam Maquet should love her holiday with her studious parents in Paris. But instead she finds herself at a crossroads - her sometimes kind-of boyfriend is ghosting, she may have blown her chance of getting into her dream college, and all she wants is to go back home to Chicago to figure out her life. 

But things change when she meets Alexandre Dumas, a descendant of her favorite writer. On top of that she finds letters to a mysterious woman, who just might give Khayyam another chance. 

Meanwhile, centuries before, Leila is trying to hide her love from the pasha, and survive as she is ‘gifted’ a position of favor in said pasha’s harem. As Khayyam begins to trace the threads of Leila’s life, the lives of these two women will intertwine as both lives are changed forever. 

~~TIME FOR MY THOUGHTS~~

I’m rather sad to say that I didn’t like this book. It felt like a chore to read, and my issues with the characters and the plot only made it worse. 

For starters, this book was presented as a feminist and poc narrative, but both protagonists spend the majority of the book bending to the will of men, and not even nice, respectful men. Being a feminist and hating all men do not go hand in hand, but these characters, and Khayyam especially,  are at the beck and call of the men in this story, above their own autonomy. Leila is not much better, making strong, well-grounded decisions and suddenly throwing them all away for a man despite the fact that it might very well get her killed. 

Another thing that wrankles with me is that, from what I can tell, this book has some good poc representation, especially in that of the two leading ladies. But Khayyam makes me feel like she’s ‘not racist towards the french’ in the way that Emily in Paris is a love letter to France instead of a bunch of Americans taking a shit on French culture. Khayyam is such a cool intersection of cultures, race, and religion (she’s French, Indian, American, and Muslim), and I think it would have been really cool and interesting to take a look at how all of these intersecting identities affect Khayyam, regardless of where she is*. 

Instead she spends so much time confused over which boy she should pick (she calls them ‘problematic faves’ - more on that later), that the story (these two women centuries apart coming together) that I came here for comes second. 

Back to Khayyam’s ‘problematic faves’, or more accurately, her use of that term. It makes sense that a seventeen-year-old would speak like most of gen z, however, sometimes the volume of gen-z buzzwords in what Khayyam is saying reminds me of Riverdale, and not in a good way (side note: is anything involving Riverdale good? I mean seriously, would anyone ever say ‘I beg your misogynistic pardon?’ unironically?). 

For a complete change of subject, where were Khayyam’s parents? Their few appearances are only to further the plot progression (and by plot I mean what should be the subplot of which boy Khayyam is going to pick), despite the fact that their daughter breaks and enters on multiple occasions. They let said daughter run around Paris with a guy that they met once (and the only thing they know about him is that he’s related to Alexandre Dumas), and though I appreciate that they are giving their daughter more independence, I’m a little concerned that they didn’t seem to fear for Khayyam’s safety at all. 

The story has such a cool premise, but I feel like so much of it is spent mooning over different men (almost entirely on Khayyam’s part by this point, since Leila’s major paramour died) that it takes a back seat, and could be lost entirely without really affecting Khayyam’s journey at all. I don’t see a lot of character development in Khayyam, and she sort of comes across like ‘i’m not like other girls’ in the way that Bella from Twilight isn’t like other girls. 

Later in the story, in an effort to prove that she really is feminist, and she doesn’t need men at all, her two love interests are demonized (which is fair, both of them are flawed, but given the fairly positive view that the reader has gathered of them from the previous 200-ish pages, it’s kind of out of nowhere), but that doesn’t erase the fact that Khayyam has been pining for the both of them throughout the book. I also think that Khayyam could have been a lot less damaging with how she handled the situation. She didn’t try to communicate sensibly and instead hurls insults at them until they both leave (In the case of Zaid, it kind of makes sense, he was not good to Khayyam, but Alexandre’s feels a bit less justified). I understand that given that she is 17, she may not be the most mature person in the world, but I think her outburst is kind of sudden and poorly handled. 

She chooses herself, yes, but at the cost of some, if not glowing relationships, then half-decent ones. I feel like the book fell into the common pitfall of ‘romantic relationships are the be all and end all of teen life’ which is simply not true. 

Khayyam is so focused on being feminist and defying the patriarchy in the present that she forgets that the whole point of this was to discover Leila’s story, and take down the patriarchy by telling it. The whole point of Alexandre appearing at all (his connections to the Dumas family helping discover Leila) is thrown out of the window when Zaid shows up, just like it has been for the last few hundred pages. Khayyam, and by extension Leila, are jerked around by men, the patriarchy, despite Khayyam’s whole deal supposedly being defying said patriarchy. 

Khayyam reminds me of how white cishet male authors write feminists - spewing all the relevant rhetoric until a man comes along and ‘fixes’ it. I guess the only reason that i’m so bothered by it is because this is presented as a masterful feminist story, but all Khayyam really does is say feminist things while she is a doormat for the male characters. It doesn’t even feel like quality observations, because she spews all of this hate towards famous men - not entirely without reason - but she doesn’t acknowledge the cultural influence that these men had. She does not separate art from artist from gender. 

Nevermind that these men are helping the plot move forward, and without them there would likely be no plot at all. Khayyam’s main personality trait is supposedly being feminist and not needing men, yet she consistently bends to the will of men for the sake of the plot or drama, both of which are in such contrast with how the reader has expected Khayyam to be that they feel almost physically painfully out of place. 

In short, I think that this book had a really amazing plot idea and a lot of things going for it, but the way is was executed in contrast with my expectations based on the synopsis and the author’s note make me feel massively let down. The book has pitfalls that while not always massive, are commonplace enough and reoccurring enough that I couldn’t ignore them, and subsequently couldn’t find myself enjoying the book, no matter how hard I wanted to. 

- Marigold

*note: I know that the race, religion, and/or cultural identity of a character, especially a poc character, should not be their only personality trait. However with Khayyam, I feel like it is not addressed in any way at all, despite the fact that within the first few sentences of the book it is put in a position to be a focal point. I just feel as though her saying vague things like ‘that lady was kind of rude to me’ leaving the insinuation that she (the woman) is racist, or ‘it’s paris so i probably won’t get shot by a cop’ (which is a fair thing to say, I just think that if you’re going to mention that you might as well add something to make me invested in that idea with regards to the character personally. That didn’t happen, therefore it feels very abstract; since she’s not in America, where such a comment would be most relevant it falls flat) really leaves out the audience and makes it hard for them to relate or sympathize with Khayyam’s struggles against racism. It feels performative, obligatory and perfunctory when it would have been such an effective device to get readers invested in Khayyam’s life, regardless of whether she was in the US or not. There are no flashbacks to help ground the things that Khayyam references, so it’s far too easy to forget that she said them at all, and that in her hometown she has a very good reason to be concerned for her safety (in special regards to the cop thing).

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #28: Humiliations Galore

Prompt: irenic | Master Post | On AO3

This fill is partially in response to @ahlis-xiv‘s fill for ultracrepidarian, which you can read HERE! (And it goes without saying you should read her other fills and assorted writing, too!) The Ahlis mentioned herein, of course, belongs to her. \o/

--

Synnove felt her face twist into something foul and ugly and absolutely capable of curdling milk as she stared down at the letter on her desk. Halulu took one look at her and immediately fled back to the relative safety of her own office one floor down.

The envelope was fine vellum, waxed to protect its contents, tied with twine and the tie further sealed with wax. It was unremarkable, really, and appeared no different from any other important missive that Mealvaan’s Gate might receive from near and far.

Save for the seal of the University of Radz-at-Han pressed into the wax.

Synnove’s lip curled up in a sneer.

Mama, just open it, Galette sighed from her usual perch draped around her shoulders.

Synnove grimaced, but reached for the envelope and slid it closer to herself on the desk. She wedged her thumbnail beneath the wax seal and wiggled back and forth until it popped off, then slid the vellum from the twine and opened the flap. Reaching in, she pulled out two letters, folded over and individually sealed with different wax and stamps, at which she frowned.

And then raised her eyebrows as she noticed the thicker letter of the two, the one closed by deep red wax with a plain stamp, had writing in a very familiar hand on the outside.

READ THE OTHER ONE FIRST.

Now, what in the six hells was Thaisie Valeroyant up to?

Synnove stared with narrow, suspicious eyes at the letter from the Chair of the Department of Arcanima from the University of Radz-at-Han’s College of Mathematics, drumming her fingers on her desk for long moments as she mentally flicked through a list of possibilities. Finally, she let out a heavy sigh and scowled, snatching up the other letter, popping the wax seal, and unfolding it.

My dearest Mistress Greywolfe—

Synnove dropped the parchment, recoiling with a disgusted shriek. Galette HISSED, rising to a crouch as she bared her teeth and bristled her fur, tails lashing.

She knew that handwriting, knew that deep blue ink, knew that absolutely repulsive cologne that wafted into her face.

The first letter was in her hand in an instant, wax seal ripped off and parchment unfolded.

I promise, Synnove, the other letter is worth soiling your fingers and eyes.

Synnove ground her teeth, rage roiling through her, but she took a deep breath through her nose for a five count. Held it for another five count. Let it out with a final five count.

“Thaisie, you are going to owe me so much alcohol,” she muttered under her breath. She set down Thaisie’s letter and reached up to pet Galette, soothing them both for a few moments. Then, she picked up one of the half-sticks of graphite from the pile in the corner of her desk, and used it to poke the other letter flat, sneering as she did. Once that was done, she threw the graphite into her trash bin.

Finally, with a grimace, she leaned over her desk to read the letter from Bahram Zarir.

Synnove sat back after the first flowery paragraph and exchanged a confused look with Galette. “Did he actually…?”

I think so? Galette chittered, ears flat against her head.

They leaned forward again to read the next paragraph.

“…Ah. Never mind. He still, in fact, has his head shoved up his ass so far that the apple on his throat is actually his nose. Good gods, how as he gone this long without developing critical thinking skills, or the ability to remember what he wrote in a previous paragraph?”

She continued reading, occasionally muttering comments such as, “My gods, you absolutely disgusting piece of worm-ridden filth,” to which Galette snickered. Finally, she reached the end of the letter, and slid back into her chair.

And started giggling.

It evolved into a full body guffaw, rising from deep in her belly, and Synnove bent over as she howled with laughter, for so hard and so long it became silent heaving that shook her whole body. Galette sighed and rolled her eyes, holding on as her perch pitched to and fro. As Synnove finally calmed again, she brushed tears from her eyes.

“Oh, my gods, that was hilarious,” she wheezed. “Gods, I only hope I’m there on the day his hubris gets his sorry plagiarizing ass killed so I can laugh him all the way to the Hell of Water. What a cunt.”

Still chortling and catching her breath, Synnove carefully picked up Bahram Zarir’s letter with the very tip of her thumb and forefinger, and dumped it in the trash.

“Please remind me to get Ivar to burn that later,” she said, wiping her hand on her pants.

Yes, Mama!

Then, finally, she picked up Thaisie’s letter to read.

He really is such a prick, isn’t he? It’s a wonder he hasn’t become a victim of Thavnairian politics, but then he’s probably too thick to be a credible threat to any of his relatives or their myriad enemies. Just a shame we got stuck with him. I’m fairly certain the dean was dreaming about defenestrating him and a few other of the legacy children during the last open thesis read.

In any event, I thought you might enjoy the attached to make up for the toad’s sorry attempt at civility: a copy of the abstract for Master Zarir’s latest article. It’s still technically in peer review, but you’re a peer, as dirty as that no doubt makes you feel. Do what you will with this.

Also, yes, I know, I owe you alcohol. I already have a nice bottle of arak picked out for the next time Thubyrgeim allows you off your leash, or I’m able to attend a Lominsan conference.

Kisses!

Thaisie

“You’re such an asshole, Thaisie,” Synnove said fondly, shuffling the parchment to the second page. Zarir’s greatest weakness as a researcher was that frequently, he did have original ideas…but was frankly terrible at the execution and he outright stole others’ work in bits and pieces and tried to make a whole from it that fell apart if one breathed on it too hard. So, what trash was he on about now?

She read the abstract once. Blinked. Read it again, slower this time, than gave it a third pass.

Synnove set the parchment down flat on her desk, mind racing.

Zarir’s article was in peer review, and therefore it wasn’t public knowledge or in open circulation; the only individuals with copies would be Zarir, the reviewers, and Thaisie. He wouldn’t be able to add anything, with how the University handled its legacies’ attempts at academia, the peer review was mostly for show and the article would be published in the latest issue of their mathematics journal. There would be no turnaround time for Zarir.

And there was no way for anyone else to possibly know what he was publishing. Further, it was incredibly common for academics to hit on similar ideas and develop them in parallel without knowing until the other was published.

Zarir’s idea was similar to that of someone else’s here at the Gate. Oh, not hugely similar, but enough for the mainstays in the field to have a solid guess of which articles either had been reading and drawing inspiration from. But Ahlis had gone off in a completely different direction and what was more, her math was sound, the research actually done rather than theorized, and with a high chance of her succeeding and creating a new breakthrough in arcanima. And Ahlis’s work was ready for presentation at the upcoming research symposium. At which a few of the Hannish—not Zarir, if only because the dean didn’t want to deal with the political fallout of letting him set foot in Limsa Lominsa and the resulting murder—from the University would be attending.

Synnove smiled, slow and deliberate and sharklike, a dark chuckle rising in her throat, as she reached for a piece of fresh parchment and a graphite stick. She was quite thankful now that she hadn’t replied to Ahlis’s note just yet.

Ahlis,

I think you are more than ready! You’ve done your due diligence, even surpassed it, in laying your foundation. I still cannot find flaws in the theorems and equations you’ve laid out—your mathematics might need the occasional proofing, but your grasp of the principles is superb, and we’ve all needed a second set of eyes on our work when we’ve looked at the numbers for too long.

You are an excellent arcanist, Ahlis. As intimidating as it is to present research, the symposium presents a wonderful opportunity to receive feedback and collaborate on further avenues to explore your hypothesis. And, if word on the grapevine is true, I have no doubt your work will be leaving certain members of our community absolutely green with envy.

Give ‘em hell!

-Synnove

She signed with a flourish and folded the letter into neat thirds, wrote Ahlis’s name on it, and bound it with some of the leftover twine from Thaisie’s packet. “Amandina, Roksana,” she called out as she tied off the string, “would you like to run an errand for me?”

The twins poked their heads over the edge of their basket, the picture book they had been carefully pawing through forgotten. Their ears stood straight up, noses twitching in excitement—and then they were tumbling out of the basket and darting right for Synnove’s desk. Oh oh oh yes yes yes! they peeped excitedly. Errand errand errand we can do it!

The carbunclets skidded to a halt at their mama’s feet and looked up at her with huge eyes, their mass of tails shaking with excitement. Galette huffed, exasperated as always with their endless amounts of energy, but didn’t otherwise say anything as Synnove leaned over with the letter in hand.

“Do you remember where the Gate’s mailroom is?” she said, solemn.

Yeah!

The arcanist held out the letter, and Amandina very carefully accepted it, clamping down with her teeth to hold it firmly.

“Bring this down to the mailroom,” Synnove said, “and give it to Coster, and only Coster. He’ll make sure it’s delivered to its intended recipient! And then, once you’re done, come right back here, all right?”

Okay, Mommy! warbled Amandina, a determined set to her face.

We’ll be right back! said Roksana with a peppy chirp.

Then, rather than turn and trundle towards the door to her office, as Synnove thought they would, Roksana took one of Amandina’s ears into her mouth, and with a pop! of displaced air they were…gone.

Dead silence, as arcanist and carbuncle both stared, jaws hanging open, at the space the twins had been in just a few moments before.

“When did they learn to do that?” Synnove said, faint and bewildered.

I dunno. Galette tilted her head. Can I learn how to do that?

“Absolutely not, you’ll use it to break into the coldbox for my pies.”

Galette slumped into a full body sulk.

[architectnews]

Chicago Architecture Center: CAC

Chicago Architecture Center Building, CAC Illinois, Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery, USA Architectural News

Chicago Architecture Center

May 25, 2021

Chicago Architecture Center Building

Location: Chicago, Illinois, USA

Chicago Architecture Center Opens with New Exhibits and Tours in Time for Memorial Day Weekend Summer Kick-off

New tours downtown, in neighborhoods and more departures on the Chicago River;

New exhibits spotlight changing Chicago neighborhoods and cutting-edge home designs that are affordable, accessible, and flexible for every stage of our lives

CHICAGO – With the Memorial Day Weekend summer kick-off just days away, the Chicago Architecture Center (CAC) has re-opened with all-new and updated exhibits in its 10,000 square feet of galleries full of scale models of new building designs from Chicago and around the world. The Chicago Gallery, home to the Chicago City Model Experience, is completely overhauled and all-new exhibits on Current Chicago Projects, Chicago Chicago’s neighborhoods and the new home design exhibit, Housing for a Changing Nation.

The “Building Tall” exhibition in the Chicago Architecture Center’s Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery features scale models of high-rise towers around the world—as well as picture-perfect views of Chicago’s own iconic skyline: photo : James Steinkamp

These new exhibits cap CAC’s spring 2021 reopening that began with the April launch of new CAC Walking Tours and the Chicago Architecture Foundation Center (CAFC) River Cruise aboard Chicago’s First Lady. Both walking tours and the cruise have been popular options for Chicagoans and visitors eager to rediscover the beauty and inspiration of Chicago architecture.

“All CAC exhibits have been updated with new scale models of exciting architectural designs and we’ve created an all-new exhibit on cutting-edge, affordable, flexible home designs,” said Lynn Osmond, President and CEO of the CAC. “The new exhibit in the Chicago Gallery, Housing for a Changing Nation, highlights innovative architects who are creating homes for a diverse range of needs from live/work spaces to multigenerational families to cohousing.”

CAC EXHIBIT GALLERIES open May 22; Hours: 10m to 5pm, Thursday through Monday

The “Building Tall” exhibition in the Chicago Architecture Center’s Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery features scale models of high-rise towers around the world—as well as picture-perfect views of Chicago’s own iconic skyline: photo : James Steinkamp

THE CHICAGO GALLERY returns with new exhibits throughout.

• BRAND NEW FOR MAY 2021: Housing for a Changing Nation Exhibit is an entirely new installation, sponsored by AARP Illinois and the AARP Foundation, that explores how architects are replacing outdated 19th and 20th century housing with homes designed for fast-changing, diverse, multigenerational communities that need flexible, accessible and affordable housing:

o 100 YEAR LOT – a multi-generational home in Mexican and European influenced Pilsen by Canopy neighborhood splicing together a Chicago two-flat with a new two-story structure;

o MAKERS SPACE – a five-lot, live/work, micro-housing complex with shared community kitchen by Landon Bone Baker and retail marketplace and cottage-industry scaled workspace for South Chicago’s “maker” community;

o FLIP THE STRIP – strip malls and vacant storefronts transformed into flexible live/workspaces by UrbanLab—a contemporary update on the old concept of “living above the store”—for a new generation of small business entrepreneurs

o A NEW COURTYARD – a compact, pedestrian-orientated, affordable apartment building in Los Angeles that updates a familiar, sprawl-fighting California style by Brooks + Scarpa— a design that shares elements familiar to Chicagoans whose Chicago courtyard apartment buildings provided affordable housing to residents in the early 20th century.

• BRAND NEW FOR MAY 2021: The City in Change: Chicago Neighborhoods Exhibit introduces visitors to Chicagoans from some of the city’s 77 diverse, architecturally distinct and constantly changing communities.

• Chicago City Model Experience, featuring more than 4,250 buildings, returns with thirty new models of buildings under construction in 2020 and 2021—including St. Regis (Vista) Tower and Bank of America Building (110 North Wacker). Features a newly updated seven-minute video summarizing the city’s dynamic history, fascinating present and promising future.

• Current Chicago Projects Exhibit opens with new, cutting-edge Chicago projects and all new scale models.

The Chicago Architecture Center’s Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery features a line of scale models along the windows, each of which was at one time the world’s tallest building: photo : James Steinkamp

Projects include:

o 75th Street Boardwalk, The Nest, PopCourts! by ARC Community Design Initiative; o Cabrini-Green Redevelopment by Gensler, JGMA and Studio Dwell; o Steppenwolf Theatre Expansion by Adrian Smith + Gordon Gill Architecture; o Auburn Gresham Healthy Lifestyle Hub by MKB Architects; o The Obama Presidential Center by Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects Partners, Michael Van Valkenburgh Associates, Interactive Design Architects; o Chicago Park District Headquarters and Park 596 by John Ronan Architects and site design group; o Fulton East by Lamar Johnson Collaborative and Clayco; o Tribune Tower Residences by Solomon Cordwell Buenz (renovation architect) and John Mead Howells and Raymond Hood (original architects); o SURGE Esports Stadium & VR Arenas by KOO; o KLEO Art Residences by JGMA; o 800 Fulton by Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM).

THE DRAKE FAMILY SKYSCRAPER GALLERY featuring “Building Tall” reopens with seven new scale models of towers from Bangkok, Chicago, New York, Taipei and Tianjin and other skyscrapers from around the world and “Race to the Top” featuring oversized scale models of skyscrapers that were each tallest in the world when built.

New scale models in the Skyscraper Gallery include:

o 1000M, Chicago, JAHN, est. 2022 o CTF Finance Centre, Tianjin, SOM, 2019 o King Power MahaNakhon, Bangkok, Büro Ole Scheeren, 2016 o NEMA Chicago, Rafael Viñoly Architects, 2019 o Sendero Verde, New York, Handel Architects, est. 2022 o Solstice on the Park, Chicago, Studio Gang, 2019 o Taipei 101, C.Y. Lee & Partners Architects / Planners, 2004

In April, the CAC rolled out its downtown and neighborhood CAC Walking Tours for Chicagoans eager to rediscover their city’s classic architecture and diverse neighborhoods. The popular, always changing walking tours and CAFC River Cruise are led by a corps of 400 expert CAC docents, who in June 2021 celebrate the 50th anniversary of the 1971 first CAC docent class.

CAFC RIVER CRUISES departures Thursday through Monday starting May 22

On April 17, the #1 boat tour in Chicago based on TripAdvisor user reviews and the only Chicago finalist for Best Boat Tour for USA Today’s 10Best Readers’ Choice Award, Chicago Architecture Foundation Center (CAFC) River Cruise aboard Chicago’s First Lady (CFL) launched its 2021 cruise season along Chicago River’s canyon of architecture. Led by CAC docents, guests will hear stories of the visionaries who have designed more than 50 architecturally significant buildings along the Chicago River as well as the Chicago Riverwalk and the 13 bascule bridges on the cruise route.

The 90-minute CAFC River Cruise is the most in-depth, authentic architecture river cruise available and is lauded as a “must-do” activity when visiting Chicago. Exciting new buildings with cutting edge design elements continue to rise along the river including the recently completed St. Regis (Vista) Tower, the city’s third tallest structure, and the refurbished riverfront Old Post Office. Tour guests will leave the cruise inspired by the city’s wide variety of architectural styles—– which glide by as you travel up and down all three branches of the Chicago River—including art deco, neoclassicism, mid-century modernism, and postmodernism.

Chicago’s First Lady’s luxury fleet is the finest on the Chicago River and now includes the new, brass and mahogany trimmed Chicago’s Emerald Lady. Full-service bars on board each vessel. Cruises will initially limit capacities following the guidelines from federal public health officials. As passenger vessels under federal jurisdiction, cruises follow the current federal face covering mandate. Reservations are recommended and tickets are available at cruisechicago.com.

CAC WALKING TOURS departing from the CAC, Thursday through Monday starting May 22

Favorite Downtown CAC Walking Tours returned April 17 include:

– Art Deco Skyscrapers: The Loop Art Deco masterpieces built in Chicago’s financial district during the Roaring ’20s – Chicago Architecture: A Walk Through Time Chicago’s early skyscrapers to supertall high rises – Must See Chicago Chicago’s most famous buildings and more: Wrigley Building, Tribune Tower, Art Institute, Willis Tower – Historic Treasures of Chicago’s Golden Age architectural landmarks of Michigan Avenue and State Street 1890 to 1930 – Chicago Icons: Connecting Past and Present see how architectural styes from the 1890s connect to today’s skyline – Mid-Century Modern Skyscrapers Chicago’s modernist masters, Mies, Goldberg and Graham, set the stage for the modern city center – Lights, Camera, Architecture! see architecture that starred in Ferris Bueller, Batman, the Blues Brothers and other films

Neighborhood CAC Walking Tours returned April 17 include:

– Fulton-Randolph Market 150-year evolution from food wholesaling and meatpacking to gourmet restaurants, technology hubs and boutique hotels – Northwestern University Campus a stunning, wooded campus on Lake Michigan with 19th Century Collegiate Gothic to cutting-edge designs – Kenwood the stately neighborhood, home to early industrialists, modern-day innovators and President Barack Obama – Hyde Park home to the 1893 World’s Fair, the University of Chicago and Frank Lloyd Wright’s masterpiece, Robie House, pre-Chicago Fire houses and the famous Midway. – Evanston Along the Lake one of Chicago’s most desirable suburbs, with many homes and churches with notable designs, where Daniel Burnham established his “country retreat”

Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery, Chicago Architecture Center, Illinois – Building Information

Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery images:

The Chicago Architecture Center’s spacious Drake Family Skyscraper Gallery reopens with seven new models on display, on loan from acclaimed design firms worldwide including

Chicago’s forthcoming 1000M by JAHN: rendering courtesy of JAHN

King Power MahaNakhon in Bangkok, Thailand by Büro Ole Scheeren: photo by Wison Tungthunya

NEMA Chicago by Rafael Viñoly Architects: photo courtesy of Rafael Viñoly Architects

Taipei 101 by C.Y. Lee & Partners Architects / Planners: photo courtesy of the Taipei Economic and Cultural Office in Chicago

Sendero Verde in East Harlem, New York City: rendering by Volley, courtesy of Handel Architects

Chicago Architecture Center (CAC) images / information received 250521

Location: Chicago, IL, United States

Chicago Architecture

Contemporary Illinois Architecture – architectural selection below:

Chicago Architecture Designs – chronological list

Chicago Architectural Walking Tours by e-architect

Chicago Architecture News

150 North Riverside Office Building, West Loop Design: Goettsch Partners (GP) photograph © Nick Ulivieri 150 North Riverside Office Development

Wintrust Arena, 200 E Cermak Road Design: Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects photographer : Jeff Goldberg/ESTO Wintrust Arena Chicago Building

747 North Clark Design: Ranquist Development Group photograph : Marty Peters 747 North Clark

Zurich North America Headquarters in Schaumburg photo © Steinkamp Photography Zurich North America Headquarters Building by Goettsch Partners

Willis Tower Renovations 233 S. Wacker Drive – Willis Tower Building

Obama Presidential Center Building Obama Presidential Center Building

Chicago Architecture

Major Chicago Buildings

Aqua Tower Chicago

Lake Shore Drive Towers

Sears Tower Building

Website: Chicago

Comments / photos for the Chicago Architecture Center: CAC page welcome

The post Chicago Architecture Center: CAC appeared first on e-architect.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales 87 Reviews: Working for Scales (CACC Finale): Islands in the Sky, Stereotypes on the Ground

The grand finale to Catch as Cash Can as commissioned by @weirdkev27​! It’s a race to the finish as Scrooge, The Boys, Gyro and Launchpad hurry to get a now floating Atlantis to Macaroon before the deadline while Glomgold sets the Beagle Boys against them to stop them! Sterotyping, mother trucking balloons, Scrooge being a jerkhole again and one hell of a climax are floating on by under the cut along with the full review!

I made it! A full week almost of reviews, 4 episodes, and one big commission and with this it’s finally done. And it’s been a heck of a ride and i’ve thoroughly enjoyed doing it and hope to get more commissions in the future. For now though the Goal Line is in sight, let’s get going. 

Previously on Ducktales:

And as for this series, if you haven’t been following along at this point, Scrooge is in a contest with Glomgold to get his fortune to Macaroon to be weighed in order to get marketing rights to the Lightbulb replacing world changing Firefly Fruit. He’s had to deal with Beagle Boys, Sea Monsters eating his ice cream that turn out to be robotic whales driven by smart morons, and a bunch of asshole frogs with on sense of anything in a really boring adventure best forgotten. Point is Scrooge found atlantis, that’s where his gold is and the contest is almost up. Everybody ready? 

We open with Disney Plus giving me a very nice message. 

I’d heard about this but it was my first time seeing it.. and I prefer this to the previous content warnings as instead it just flat out apologizes for it and tries to use this racist bollocks as a learning tool instead of just covering their ears and pretending they weren’t racist. Granted it took them a few months and is clearly to cover their own ass, but even an ass covering disclaimer can still have some good intentions behind it and given how big and unwieldly disney is it’s not suprising it took 6 months to put this on there. They still haven’t put House of Mouse, Wonder Over Yonder, Penn Zero: Part-Time Hero or American Dragon: Jake Long on here after a year, Disney can be slow sometimes. Dosen’t mean there isn’t some good that can come from this or that I don’t appricate them going as far as to put this one one of their tv shows. And given how they’ve basically had to be fought to get full gay content into one of their shows and they shot in a region of china where there’s concentration camps, I think there are bigger issues with disney than “oh no they took a bit to decide on how to readress their racist content oh no”. It was a nice gesture, I can give them that while still booing them for the other things. 

Now that’s out of the way the episdoe itself opens in Macaroon where Glomgold is already there and at the scale and naturally is trying to get the Kishke to just end it already. The Kishke being a fair man though refuses as Scrooge still has an hour to get there and refuses to budge.  And that’s ALL I can say good about this character. I already thought he was bad and racist in part one and let them know it but since Disney has acknowledged via this blanket statement that “It was wrong then and it’s wrong now” and he’s even worse now, I feel it’s my duty to lay the hell into this awful, obnoxious, annoying stereotype of a character who, as I must remind you, was played by a white dude. And unlike last time i’m not giving Hamilton Camp credit because I did my homework: This guy had plenty of rolls at this point, was an accomplished singer and song writer and could’ve walked away from the roll if he genuinely wanted to or put his foot down but clearly had no issue playing a “waccccckyyyy” foreign stereotype for a little extra dough.  It’s just obnoxious to watch this outdated even by 1987 standards stereotype of an indian leader with a bit of a sultan thrown in because why not piss off the middle east too? Just make everybody good and justifably pissed off at this bullshit. The Kishki repeats words, is dumb enough to think glomgold’s coat is talking to him, and is just unplesant to watch. As Disney themselves said “It was wrong then and it was wrong now”, their own words. This character is terrible, obnoxious, offensive even for the 80s and think about that for a second and it’ll get worse for you and drags the episode down considerably any time he’s on screen. Scre the Kishke, screw hamilton camp for agreeing to this, screw the writers for thinking this was REMOTELY okay, and screw anyone who thinks i’m taking out unecessary time to bitch about this. It was bad then, it’s bad now. Nuff said.

SO yeah as you can tell i’ll be glossing over the bits of him and glomgold.. basically over the episode the beagle boys, we’ll get to them in amoment, will raido glomgold, the kishke will think his coat is talking.. it’s a whole thing and I’m not giving this uttelry stupid and offensive bit any more time than I have to and I just did. 

Back to the main story, Glomgold , while publicly sure Scrooge lost, continues to be a good villain here: while I still prefer Keith Fergueson as his delivery’s are a lot more lively and he’s a lot more 3 dimensional, i’ve REALLY grown to like the original 2: He’s a clever mastermind who always has some trick up his sleeve and spends most of the four parter ahead of scrooge: None of his schemes link back to him in a meaningful way, and he basically has a straight shot to the Kishke and getting his gold there since Scrooge is too busy protecting his gold from Glommy’s Goons to retaliate and too honest to do so if he could anyway. He’s a fun villain to watch and is easily the best of this four parter and my opinion on him has gone up since the last few parts. He’s still not AS interesting as Magica or the boys, but he’s far more compelling than I gave him credit for . 

Naturally he brought the beagles to Macaroon via air mail, a nice gag, though Burger quickly gets old fast as every sentence is some sort of “He likes food joke’ Get it...

It’s annoying it’s outdated and i’ts obnoxious. And frankly Fresh Price of Bell Air also took part in a lot of fat jokes.. but they still work on some level since they mostly come from Will, a snarky teenager who doesn’t know better and Geoffry, a snarky butler who probably has to put up with a LOT even with a healthy paycheck and thus has every reason to get his tiny digs in where he can. Here it’s just.. the joke is he’s a fat guy. This must be where a young Kevin James learned his schitck from. 

But yeah the Beagles are there to watch for Scrooge since Glomgold can’t without giving away the fact he’s you know, tried to actively sabotage scrooge through most of this 4 parter. I almost typed 3 because I still wish Aqua Ducks  never happened, though he somehow set up a radar station in the country without the Kishke knowing. Maybe it’s because the episode portrays him as “stupid because foreign”.. actually it’s exactly that *sigh* But Scrooge is Scrooge so he already has a clever plan.. since the gold was left on a now risen Atlantis he’s turned Atlantis into a makeshift airship, likely makeshift because he’s short on time and gyro had to rig something up fast. But it’s damn impressive and nicely wacky: Using a bunch of balloons tied to strings, a bike powered propeller and a small steering column, scrooge is floating his way to macaroon and can dump his fortune directly on the scale if he can find it. Launchpad is steering which makes perfect sense: He’s an ace pilot and in this series can steer anything especially planes, and has the best trained eyes to spot any last minute attacks by Glomgold or any sudden turbulence and adjust accordingly. Gyro is manning the bike and is near dead but the boys are supposed to swap out.. though Scrooge says their too busy working the cloud generator.. only for it to turn out their not there. Oh no! Scrooge panics and tries to get it going but it’s too late: The boys spot them on radar and after conferring with Glomgold, head out in some jets he also sneaked in to stop them.. with his logo on them. Looks like Heron isn’t the only one with issues about when and when not to use branding.  But since their taking on scrooge their heading right into the 

As for where the boys are they’ve been investigating the lost treasure of Atlantis after their bizarre absence last episode and soon realize OH CRAP WE LEFT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING ON THIS AIRSHIP MADE OUT OF THE RUINS OF ATLANTIS OFF! They rush off to apologize while Launchpad bemoans that he can’t counter attack. Gyro however naturally came prepared and has a miniture biplane hidden inside a briefcase, iron man style It’s neat even if it sadly is too slow for Launchpad to do anything.  We then get .. this scene. The boys go to scrooge to apologize and explain themselves but Scrooge rather than hear it or understand their you know, ten year old or younger boys who just made a mistake, as big as it was and were still trying to help, berates them, refuses to hear it and tells them he thought they’d take up after him one day but probably not anymore. It’s just an unnecessarily cruel and harsh bit from him and I’ve started to notice that pattern of this scrooge being colder and meaner to people, and it’s not an isolated thing. I’d forgotten just how many episodes hinged on him firing or threatening to fire launchpad. This Scrooge isn’t bad, but the best scrooge stories hinge on a nice balance between his more jackass qualities and his underlying goodness. He is supposed to be gruff, mean and stingy, but not you know.. needlessly cruel with no regret shown at all till the very end after they already helped him. It would’ve worked better if the episode had just one bit of him regretting it before the boys proved to be useful. Both episodes now he’s been cruel to people, even if they’ve screwed up he’s gone beyond it and only turned around when they proved useful> This is the badly written scrooge of the comics, even under masters like rosa and barks, I get annoyed with: the one whose just cruel, mean and selfish and isn’t charismatic or interesting enough to override that.  However the obvious solution, the boys popping the Ballons, fails, as Gyro steelbelted them.. somehow. I’ve learned not to ask at this point. But it’s clever and he also likely altitude protected them given how high up there are but that’s just as likely toon physics. Either way it’s neat. Glomgold has the boys do a plan b: anchor the island with some hooks and pull it in the wrong direction. While Gyro struggles to stop them, the boys decide to redeem themselves with an idea by Louie.. but since there’s no c4 or knives aboard he’ll have to go with his second plan which is improvise a slingshot and knock a rock into the hook freeing it and sending the beagles spinning. Naturally though this can’t go easy for them and the sudden jolt from the island being freed causes gyro’s bike to break off the hinges and knock him and scrooge off the island to what the boys assume is their deaths because their apparently both clever this episode and really really dumb. Launchpad catches them but accidently disengages the plane into a breif case, but luckily gyro, after a funny gag where he pulls out random stuff as they fall, always a classic, finds some napkins that turn into parachutes and the three float to the ground safety.  Back on Atlantis, I do not get to say that enough, the boys decide to carry on and make sure Scrooge wins since it’s what he’d want and start steering the island into Macaroon. The Beagles land as a last ditch effort, Glomgold is pisseeeed and Scrooge is relieved and comes up with a clever way to mark where to drop the loot: he politely asks for some firefly fruit and makes a landing strip. It’d be a nice contrast moment with Glomgold if Scrooge wasn’t such a dick to everyone and thing except when it benefits him. But the episode frames it like some big character difference and not scrooge just being polite for one second to get what he wants. But the boys start dumping the cash by releasing some balloons, with the beagles doing the same with some others to dump it in glomgold’s pile, but the boys are able to do the trick one more time and thus the fortune’s are tied. Scrooge however cleverly wins for the moment by using his number one dime to tip the scales.  Naturally though Glomgold is one step ahead, and has a dump truck full of money ready. Guess we know who made Kamp Krusty. 

And now has more with only a minute left though the Kishke being good for this at least refuses to call it and the boys naturally decide to hunt for the lost treasure of atlantis. The beagles naturally follow, leading to the human chain moment above, but the boys find the fish, trick the beagles into coming down so they can get to the other fish, and dump all the money right onto scrooge’s side. And after four LONNNNNG episodes of adventure and stupidity, Scrooge wins. It’s also revealed the dumptruck was mostly lead bricks to the suprise of no one. Scrooge has won, he reconciles with the boys thanking them having leanred nothing, and the Kishke picks up the unfunny coat gag one last time while everyone laughs, at last, mercefully the end. 

Final Thoughts on this one episode:  This was a decent finale. Scrooge was a bit cruel to the boys but understandably enough that while it bothered me , didn’t make the episode actively worse like last time, they just laid it on a bit too thick is all. But the action is great and the pacing, minus the utterly grating Kishke bits, is top notch, with a tense flight to get to the kishke, tons of fun twists to it and the final push itslef being really thrilling as the boys dangle and then use the chekovs gun to win. It feels earned and it was a nice subversion with the dime bit which itself would’ve been a fine ending. It’s a thrilling and fun episode.. it’s just dragged down from excellent to decent by the utterly loathsome racist characture that is the Kishke who has I covered up top, is far more present here and far more stereotype and far less tolerable. It drags down the pacing and what’s otherwise a fun well paced episode and a good climax to a not so great 4 parter. Speaking of which.  Final Thoughts on Catch as Cash Can: 

This four parter was pretty lackluster all things considered. While it started off hot with “A Drain on the Economy” easily one of the best 87 Ducktales episodes i’ve seen, it quickly wore out it’s good will with the enjoyably bad “A Whale of A Bad Time”, Sea Monster Ate My Ice Cream Scene notwithstanding, the utterly dreadful “Aqua Ducks”, and the thrilling but also annoyingly racist “Working for Scales”. It started fine but it’s clear they didn’t have enough material for four full episodes here as the latter three ALL suffer from padding and it’s very noticable, with Whale of a Bad Time at least covering it up better with it’s convoluted plot. This plot REALLY didn’t need to be this long and would’ve been better, if still annoyingly racist, with just two, just having another expiation for the air ship which was awesome. Instead it’s just an overpadded mess with one excellent episode and one utterly masterful scene, and some good action in the last half and I can easily see why they only did serials for big events from then on out. It was a good idea to have more serials they just executed it really badly and it’s better this was the ONLY mid-season one from then on out if this was the best they can do. Truly disapointing. 

Well that closes the book on Catch as Cash Can. I’d like to thank @weirdkev27​ for commissioning these. While it wasn’t a fun sit sadly, I did get some good material out of them and it was a pleasure to dive into the original series and I plan to again some day. If you liked this review follow me for more as I review a new ducktales episode every monday and plan to still do at least one a week once the hiatus kicks in again, as well as loud house whenever new episodes come out and I can watch them and new amphibia when it comes back next year, as well as scattered reviews throughout the week. If you’d like to comission your own review, simply send me an ask or personal message or send an ask for my discord and we can get started. IT’s 5 dollars for one episode, 15 for movies and 5 dollars off when you order 3 or more. Until we meet again check your house for gary buseys and stay safe!

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (1)

She was twenty when she died.

She’d just graduated with a double first in Literature and Preservation from Exeter. She’d been accepted into a prestigious master’s school in London.

She’d moved into a basement flat with her best friend and a couple of his friends. She’d been glad to escape her childhood house, where her mum and dad traded vicious words over who was getting how much in the divorce.

She’d promised her brother she’d get him out too, once she had a stable place that the courts would approve of. She had been due to interview for a job at a big bookstore chain next week.

And then someone had broken in while her flatmates were out. She shouldn’t have grabbed the knife. That just made the armed man freak out.

The last thing she remembered was a bang, and the blubbered words “I didn’t mean to!”

She wakes up as a baby.

She waves her arms around and cries as an unfamiliar lady with brown hair and brown eyes bends down over her crib, hushing her with more urgency than is really warranted.

Rain hammers down outside and thunder rumbles directly overhead.

Then a man with blue hair and grey eyes arrives. He stinks of copper, and that makes her wail harder.

The man and woman confer, words too fast for her to understand.

Then the man gently presses a cloth which smells chemical and awful to her face, hushing and looking at her with sad eyes while the woman strokes her head.

She struggles, but eventually swirling red circles dance before her eyes and she succumbs to sleep.

She grows, and learns that she is not anywhere remotely like her home anymore.

She looks in mirrors and sees grey eyes like the man’s, brown hair like the woman’s, hair too straight, eyes too angular, skin too pale.

Her new name is Ketsugi Mayu. The woman’s name is Ketsugi Chie, the man’s is Ketsugi Jirou.

They live in a little house, on the outskirts of a village that’s nothing like the village she previously grew up in. It’s too big, too bustling, with large compounds with symbols decorating the exteriors and brightly painted buildings, flat roofs alternating with asian-style pagodas.

Faces carved into a mountainside like a bastardization of Mount Rushmore. Huge trees everywhere, though she couldn’t tell you the type. She never was any good at biology.

Her “parents” escaped to this village from the rainy place before. Both of them work, but the woman takes her with her, or comes back first.

She gets the feeling their neighbors don’t like them very much.

Despite the electricity for lights and plumbing and cooking, there are not electronic communication devices, not like she knew them. Photography, but no video or animation.

Calculators and computers are unheard of, abacus and notebooks in their place.

The food is good though. Fresh and flavorsome, with meals that are usually served in what she mentally called “plate-2-bowls” style, a bowl of rice, a bowl of soup, and a meat or vegetable dish in the center.

The woman she is supposed to call her “mother” scolded her for ages the first time she dumped the rice out of the bowl onto the plate and tried to eat it that way.

The man she is supposed to call her “father” just laughed and said how lucky they were to have a daughter who would eat everything given to her.

And she did. Even if she doesn’t like the flavors, she eats it all and leaves no scraps.

One Piece taught her that those who waste food are scum, after all. She’ll never learn how the series ended now, so she does her best to live up to the ideals of her favorite characters in its place.

She probably should’ve seen it coming in the end.

The story she was read at bedtime was called “The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi”. There were constantly people dressed in dark clothes jumping across the roofs.

There were stalls in the market that sold throwing knives and stars and japanese swords.

But she didn’t realize exactly what world she’d been reincarnated into until she sees a little boy around her age, with blonde hair and blue eyes and three familiar lines like whisker marks across each cheek.

He’s racing away from a severe woman dripping with orange paint, cackling even as she screams, “GET BACK HERE NARUTO, YOU LITTLE DEMON!!”

She’s four, so she promptly bursts into tears and remains in a strop for the rest of the week.

Naruto doesn’t have food.

It’s dumb and doesn’t involve her and she shouldn’t care because she never even read this series because it was stupid and sexist and dumb and pirates will always be better than ninjas no matter what stupid morons on the internet who have no interpersonal relationships say—

But Naruto doesn’t have food.

She saw the food vendors at the market slap away his money, yell at him for trying to steal from them, chase him away from their stalls with rotten produce.

And he goes away empty handed.

Every. Damn. Time.

Sanji wouldn’t let him go empty handed.

Fuck.

She buys three lunch boxes and an “easy cook recipes” book from a lady who coos at her.

She buys extra rice and ingredients so that she doesn’t use up her “family’s” food.

She decides on a sweeter, more protein-focused meal for breakfast, and presses rashers of bacon and scrambled eggs between slices of crusty bread, filling the compartments with orange slices and strawberries and a plain yogurt.

For lunch she tries and fails to recreate Ketsugi Chie’s perfectly triangular rice balls filled with salmon, but consoles herself that the cucumber and seaweed salad turned out okay, To make up for it, she sticks a packet of gummies in the dessert bit.

She shadowed him the evening before, and so wakes up obscenely early, tugging on the clothes she wore yesterday.

She deposits the food outside his door, checks the sticky notes with “BREAKFAST” and “LUNCH” on them are secure.

Then she raps on the door with all the power her little fists can muster and bolts.

She’s about halfway down the street when she hears the overexcited whoops and fights to keep a smile off her face.

That night, when she comes bearing a thermos filled with miso soup and a box with rice, baked salmon with mushrooms, and dango, the other two are stacked neatly outside the door, licked clean.

She deposits dinner, grabs the other boxes, knocks again, and bolts so she can make curfew.

Here’s her routine.

She goes to bed and falls asleep instantly after preparing that boy’s breakfast and lunch.

She wakes up early and runs through the village while the streets are still asleep and deposits his food, collecting his dinner box and the feedback sheet, knocks and goes, avoiding any traps he’s set up to try and catch her on his endless quest for her identity.

They’re harmless, more intended to snare rather than hurt, and she’s gotten good at dodging.

She gets home in time for her “parents” to wake up, washes up the box while they shower, and goes upstairs to get ready for the day.

Ketsugi Jirou makes her run through katas before breakfast. Sometimes he lets her practice with the wooden sword he carries, and laughs when she falls over, kissing her bruises.

Ketsugi Chie serves breakfast and corrects her table manners and posture. After Jirou has kissed them both and left, she is given lessons in calligraphy and etiquette.

Sometimes Ketsugi Chie takes her along to her job at a tearoom, and she has to observe as her “mother” elegantly serves the patrons and makes polite conversation.

Sometimes she’s left to clean the house and study the books on the history of her family. There are many, but more are missing, references they have no source for.

At lunchtime, she reviews the feedback sheet, making notes of what worked and what didn’t.

She’s supposed to play outside after lunch, so she runs laps. Once Ketsugi Chie’s shift is over, the woman either collects her from home or goes with her straight to the market for food.

She begins making Naruto’s portion the moment groceries are put away, serves it hot and runs it over. She picks up the empty lunch boxes and paper, deposits the dinner, knocks, and runs away.

She eats dinner with her “mother” and “father”. Jirou quizzes her on what she’s learned.

After dinner she washes up the dishes and makes tomorrow’s lunch and breakfast while her parents tell her a bedtime story.

Then she cleans up after herself, and goes to bed, falling asleep instantly.

It’d be nice if this could last.

So of course, the next time she deposits breakfast and lunch, an adult dressed in black with a white mask tackles her to the ground.

She barely avoids spilling the food, clutching it to her chest with one arm as the other is twisted viciously behind her back.

She screams, tries to kick out, but her legs are too little, she can’t hurt the bastard—

The lunchboxes creak ominously under her.

“Who sent you?!” The adult hisses—there’s no way that’s not a man, not with that baritone— “Drop the henge and tell me, or I’ll—”

Something twangs.

A mass of rope drops onto them, followed by chalk dust.

“HAH!” Comes a much higher-pitched yell. “I told you I’d get ‘em, believe it, I told—wait, what the heck?! Jiji, mask-guy’s hurtin’ my friend!”

The click of a cane and the sound of an old man’s voice. “Hound-san.”

The pressure on her arm lessens and the adult gets up, though he doesn’t let go of her. She wheezes, feeling her eyes watering now she can breathe properly.

She hiccups once. Twice. Bursts into floods of noisy tears.

A blurry figure of orange comes into her view. “Hey, hey don’t cry, don’t cry! It’s okay, mask-guy won’t hurt you anymore, Jiji won’t let him, believe it! Yo-you’re the one bringin’ me the food, right? It tastes really good, believe it! M-my name’s Naruto, wh-what’s y-yours? Plea-please don’t—”

The blur of orange begins crying as well.

“Oh dear.” The old man sighs.

The old man takes them to the tower in the center of the village, drawing curious stares at the sight of two wailing children, one bleached white by chalk dust, following him.

The tower is scary. It reminds her of government buildings, with lots of people in green or grey jackets or white masks moving from one place to the next like fire ants, ready to turn and bite intruders to their nest at a moment’s notice.

She doesn’t work out who the queen ant is until the old man sits behind the big desk in the room at the top of the tower, and another mask brings her and Naruto water at his gesture.

“Now, let’s get to the bottom of this, shall we?” Says the old man, smiling genteelly.

A shiver goes down her spine.

The questions should be easy. What’s her name, how old is she, where does she live, who are her parents, where do they work, does she have any siblings, what are her hobbies.

But her tongue is stuck to the top of her mouth and when she tries to speak, she just makes a pathetic little croaking sound, no matter how much water she swallows.

The man who hurt her gets more and more tense with every failed answer.

The old man just looks sadder, like she’s failing a test, like he’s going to let the mask hurt her again—

Naruto asks, “Can you make ramen?”

She swallows. “I—I’ve never had it. I don’t know the ingredients. Is, is it like miso?”

“It’s WAY better than miso, believe it!” Naruto yells. “It’s got noodles and green onions and fish cakes and pork and tofu and chicken and fish and seaweed, and sometimes the broth can taste like miso but better and sometimes it can be spicy and Ichiraku’s is the best, and I’ll take you there so you can have some, believe it!”

She frowns. “How can it have pork and chicken and fish? That doesn’t work. Those meats go with different flavors—like chicken katsu and pork katsu are served with different toppings.”

He blows a raspberry. “They’re not all in the same bowl at one time! There’s different types.”

Her mind ticks over the possibilities. “...So a dashi broth for miso could work? What type of flour are the noodles?”

He shrugs. “I’unno. There’s different types?”

“Of course there are!” And she tells him about wheat vs buckwheat vs rye vs rice flour, and how flour mixed with water can serve as food in a pinch but isn’t sustainable for him because he’s malnourished—

“I’m not mal-no-ished, believe it!” Naruto protests.

She scoffs. “Don’t be stupid. Look, try to touch your thumb and pointer finger around your wrist.”

He looks at her warily, but does as she says easily. There’s enough space between his hand and his wrist that she could wriggle her little finger in there, if she tried.

“See?” She says, holding up her own wrist where her thumb can’t quite reach her finger. “You’re too skinny, because you don’t eat enough. You need to bulk up, and eat to get your vitamins, or you’ll grow up weak and feeble.”

The boy pouts. “S’not my fault the stupid jerkwads in the market won’t sell to me.” He grumbles.

“No, it isn’t.” She replies. “But they sell to me. And those who let people go hungry are scum.”

There’s a wounded noise. She looks up at the forgotten adults, tensing again.

The masked man has vanished. The old man just looks tired, but also...happy?

The old man walks her and Naruto home, and she glimpses many more white masks in the trees. The idea that any one could hurt her at any time has her trembling, fists clenched.

“What’s your name, anyway?” Naruto asks, clutching his lunchboxes close.

“Mayu.” She replies after a moment’s hesitation. “Ketsugi Mayu. I’m five and ten months.”

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto and I’m six, believe it!” He cheers. “Imma be the Hokage one day and take over from Jiji, believe it!”

She frowns up at the old man. “What’s a hokage?”

He laughs. “It’s the ninja entrusted with the safety of the village and all those within. The Hokage specifically is the leader of this Village Hidden in the Leaves, Konoha.”

She looks around.

“This place is way too big to be a village, no matter how you look at it.”

Her parents burst out the door just as they arrive at her house, her father clutching his bokken, her mother still in nightclothes.

They blanch when they see her, the woman reaching out with an abortive hand.

The Hokage bows to them. “Ketsugi-san.” He says. “May I congratulate you on raising such a fine daughter?”

Ketsugi Jirou bows hesitantly back, eyes not leaving her. He has to press a hand to Chie’s shoulder to get her to do the same. “You honor us, Hokage-sama.”

The Hokage smiles and gently pushes her. She totters forward and is swiftly captured in a crushing hug, both adults muttering “Mayu, Mayu.” Like she’ll disappear if they let go.

Her eyes begin watering again, because she’s escaped. She’s safe. For now.

“Otou-sama.” She whimpers. “Okaa-sama.”

She mentally apologizes to her parents in her past life, and the brother she left behind. In their memory, her new family will remain “Otou” and “Okaa”, never “Mummy” and “Daddy”.

“OI, MAYU-CHAN!!”

She half-turns in the hug, sees Naruto and the Hokage some distance away.

“COME GET RAMEN WITH ME TOMORROW!! ICHIRAKU'S IS THE BEST, BELIEVE IT!!” He yells, with far too much volume.

She sniffles. There’s something wrong with Naruto. He lives alone and borderline starves, but the ruler of this village visits him enough that he calls the man “jiji”. People in the street call him “demon” and “monster” openly, but the masked man attacked her for approaching him.

The smart thing to do would be turn him down politely. Thank you, but no thank you. She’s his food provider, she’s not under any obligation to be his friend.

So, of course, she yells back, “EAT YOUR FOOD AND I'LL BE THERE!”

He pumps his fist and whoops, cheering loudly as the Hokage smiles and guides him away.

Mayu Ketsugi and her parents tense as the accusing, silent stares pierce them.

The neighbors never liked them much anyway.