#I am addicted to having darkness with a point of light at the centre

[kingsley4]

Day, what 9?

[magicfootballstuff]

Strictly Unprofessional - part 6 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 6/9

———

Though you’ve only been at Barcelona a few months, you’ve come to realise that Alexia wins a lot of trophies. 

Every so often you’re tasked with taking photos of Alexia with her newest award for social media and that’s your job this afternoon. She’s changed out of her usual sports kit into a dark suit which she wears over a white tank top, and it’s a nice enough day that you’ve decided to take the pictures outside in front of the Barcelona crest on the wall by the main entrance to the training centre.

“I hate photoshoots,” Alexia confides in you, as you position her so that the crest is visible behind her.

“Really?” you ask, stepping back behind your tripod to check the framing of the shot on the camera display. “I’d have thought they’d be second nature by now. Just move slightly to your left please.”

Alexia shuffles across until you give her a thumbs up.

“I guess it’s like you say about doing shoots like this compared to taking pictures of us in training,” Alexia explains. “It’s much less natural. And I have to be the Alexia the world wants me to be, not the Alexia I actually am.”

You take a couple of test shots to check the lighting, before you ask, “And what would the actual Alexia do after winning an award?”

“I don’t know,” Alexia answers with a shrug. “Chill at home in my pyjamas with my dog?”

An idea pops into your head and you step out from behind the tripod to ask, “Do you trust me?”

Alexia frowns at you, curiosity in her eyes.

“Why?”

“Let’s do this shoot because it’s my job and we have to, but why don’t we do another one later?”

“I’ve just told you I hate photoshoots and your answer is to do another one?” Alexia says, arching an amused eyebrow.

“You can say no, but why not let me take some pictures of you at home with your dog and your pyjamas and anything else you like. Give me a chance to show the real Alexia.”

Alexia considers the suggestion but you can see that she’s still doubtful. You instantly kick yourself - she’s already made it clear she doesn’t like being photographed and you’ve probably just made her incredibly uncomfortable.

“Never mind, it was just a dumb idea…”

“I trust you,” Alexia interrupts you. “Let’s do it. Are you free tonight? I can order takeaway.”

“That sounds great.”

———

True to her word, when you arrive at Alexia’s apartment she greets you at the door with a takeaway menu for a local Thai restaurant and your camera bag is quickly dropped by the door and forgotten as you order dinner.

When the food arrives, you settle on Alexia’s couch and watch an episode of a new reality show you’ve heard some of the girls talking about. You haven’t seen it before but half an episode in you quickly realise why it’s popular - it’s just bad enough to be addictive. What makes it better is Alexia’s commentary, chiming in every so often with a joke or a scathing judgement. At one point, she sends you into a fit of giggles so hard that you choke on a noodle, and Alexia has to pause the show just to check that you’re okay.

As the credits roll at the end of the episode, Alexia starts to clear away the plates and you retrieve your camera bag. You’ve brought your smaller camera and none of the fancy equipment, wanting to stay true to your word about making this authentic rather than staged.

“Oh, so you wait until after I’ve got a stomach full of food to take pictures?” Alexia asks, returning to the room and eyeing up your camera as she sits back down on the couch.

“I thought this was about capturing the real Alexia,” you remind her. “Food baby and all.”

“Ugh, fine,” Alexia groans. She leans down to pick up Nala, before cooing at the dog, “You’ll just have to sit in Mami’s lap to hide her belly, won’t you Nala?”

You click the shutter of your camera a few times in quick succession, capturing a few photos of Alexia showering Nala with kisses and scratches. Alexia looks up at you, mouth pressed together in disapproval, and Nala uses the distraction as an excuse to leap off Alexia’s lap. You can’t help but take the opportunity to get a picture of Alexia glowering at you too, because her pout is just too cute.

“A little warning next time?” Alexia asks.

“Just pretend I’m not here. Act naturally.”

“Do you know how hard it is to try to act natural when somebody tells you to act natural?” Alexia speaks up. “Like which way do I normally cross my legs? Do I normally cross my legs at all?”

To emphasise her point, Alexia crosses and uncrosses her legs a few times each way, before she slumps back against the couch and props her feet up on the coffee table next to the empty takeaway containers. You snap a quick picture, then a few more when Nala jumps up onto the sofa again and nestles against Alexia’s thigh.

“Anyway, I have something special for this,” you tell Alexia, reaching into your camera bag and pulling out another camera, this one from your own personal collection that you would never take with you to work.

“Is that a Polaroid camera?” Alexia asks, her eyes lighting up. “I used to have one of those when I was younger. Then my sister took it and broke it and my parents refused to get me a new one.”

“Watch the TV again,” you direct Alexia.

“You know, this is the most staged unstaged photoshoot ever,” Alexia jokes, though she does as instructed and turns her attention back to the television.

“Are you this mouthy with other photographers too?” 

“No,” Alexia says, glancing up at you with a smile just starting to creep onto her face. “Only you get this honour.”

With the Polaroid camera in your hands, you point it at Alexia and get a quick photo of her mid-smirk.

“Hey, I wasn’t ready!” she protests, as the camera spits out the undeveloped picture.

“Exactly, that’s the whole point.”

You round the coffee table and sit down beside Alexia on the couch on the side not occupied by Nala as you wait for the photo to develop. The picture slowly appears, of Alexia caught slightly off-guard in a half smile, her gaze fixed at something behind the camera. She’s looking at you, you realise, and you stare at the photo in awe as it finishes coming into focus. It’s like you’re holding a tiny piece of your friendship in your hands, the picture capturing that bond between you more than it captures Alexia herself.

Alexia must see that too, because she asks, “Do I always look at you like that?”

“Like what?”

The silence between you is tense. It feels like the air in the room could ignite, though whether it’ll be a fire of passion or a flaming inferno of destruction is still yet to be decided.

“Never mind,” Alexia says, shutting down the conversation but leaving your curiosity piqued. “It’s my turn.” 

Alexia reaches for the camera, but you hold it out of her reach.

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on,” Alexia pleads, leaning across your lap and plucking the camera from your outstretched hand. “You had to know I’d ask at some point. I’m your apprentice after all.”

“I only have limited film for this camera,” you try to make excuses. “We can’t waste it.”

“Then a selfie,” Alexia says, flipping the camera around so that the lens points at you both. “So we’re both in it.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on, a selfie is the opposite of a photoshoot,” she pleads with you, lifting the camera and stretching out her arm.

You turn your head to look at her, and whine, “Alexia…”

You hear the click of the camera and know she’s probably caught you at your worst, payback for all the photos you’ve taken of her over the last few months. Satisfied with her actions, Alexia lets you take back your camera but keeps the newest photo as it develops, maybe scared you’re going to rip up her latest attempt at photography if you don’t like the result.

The image finally comes into focus and you look at it as she holds it.

It’s raw in a similar kind of way to the one you took of her. The angle of the selfie and the lack of a front facing camera to aid means that only three quarters of Alexia’s face is in view, but while she’s smiling at the camera, the image of you is a side profile because you’re looking at Alexia with a look of what can only be described as adoration in your eyes.

You suddenly realise what the question she asked earlier meant.

“Do I always look at you like that?”

“Like what?” Alexia parrots your earlier question back to you.

Feeling bolder than perhaps she was, you respond breathlessly, “Like I want to kiss you.”

You hear Alexia’s breath catch in her throat, before she answers, “Sometimes. Do you?”

“Do I what?” 

Though you’re almost certain you know what she’s asking, you need to hear her say it.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Sometimes,” you answer just as elusively as she did.

“How about now?”

You really do. Alexia is right there, it would be so easy to lean across and close the gap. And here, alone in Alexia’s apartment with only Nala as your witness, is the most privacy you’ve had since you found yourselves in a hotel room in Ibiza five years ago.

But something is nagging you at the back of your mind, telling you that this isn’t a good idea. Your thoughts are clouded by Alexia’s proximity and you need a clear mind to decide if you’re willing to put it all at risk for a chance at happiness.

“Alexia,” you start. “I…”

I like you, is what you should say. I want to kiss you. I want to be with you.

But what you actually end up saying is, “I should go home.”

“Fuck,” Alexia says, panic in her eyes. “I’ve made you uncomfortable. Forget I said anything.”

“No, it’s fine!” you’re quick to say. “I’ve just … got a lot to do tomorrow. I should get back home.”

You get to your feet and start to collect your photography equipment, busying yourself with that to avoid having to look Alexia in the eye. You don’t know what you might do, what mistakes you might make, if you allow yourself even a second to look at her.

“Did I do something wrong?” Alexia asks. “Did I take it too far?”

“No,” you try to tell Alexia. “You did nothing wrong. It’s all on me. My head’s a mess. I promise it’s not your fault.”

“You really don’t have to go,” Alexia says. “We can watch another episode. I promise I won’t do anything, or say anything, to make it weird.”

The problem is that it’s not Alexia that you don’t trust not to make it weird.

Do you want to kiss me?

Alexia’s words echo in your ears and your brain is screaming that yes, you do want to kiss her. And you’re not a hundred percent certain, but you get the feeling that Alexia probably wouldn’t push you off her if you did.

What if you said fuck it to your inhibitions and let yourself indulge? Would it really be so bad after all?

The temptation to make a mistake you might never come back from is too great if you stay. 

As you stand by Alexia’s front door, camera bag slung over your shoulder, you have no idea how to say goodbye. But the hesitation gives you time to think, time to let your eyes drop to Alexia’s mouth and wonder again about kissing her.

What if…?

No. You can’t.

To stop yourself from at least attempting to kiss Alexia, you step into her personal space and give her a quick one-armed hug, too long to be fleeting but not long enough to actually mean anything.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? At Camp Nou?”

Alexia nods, her expression impossible to read. 

“See you tomorrow,” she replies.

You can’t get out of Alexia’s apartment fast enough.

[mxxnlightwriting]

Writemas 2024 Day 14

Thanks to @agirlandherquill for hosting this wonderful event!

Tari’s Note: I know I'm late with this one, but I needed a few days to rest, so here I am, working on it now! I'll also work on the other days I missed in the upcoming days, so I likely will be behind from now on. I hope that's okay! I have a masterlist for this challenge if you want to read this story from the beginning!

Prompt(s): An archway Synopsis: Rae goes to meet Emily after her shift at work, and they agree to spend the rest of their evening together. Genre/age group: adult contemporary sapphic romance Word Count: 0.5k

The town slowly drowned in darkness as the sun set in the distance, bringing out all the colourful lights spread across the windowsills and streetlamps. Rae kept her head down as she walked towards the town centre, unsure of why she was heading this way. She knew why, but she kept telling herself she didn't. For some reason, that helped her grow less expectant.

As soon as her brother's booming voice reached her ears, she lifted her eyes to find the town square more put together than she remembered. Henry chatted with Emily and Henrietta next to a large white tent that Rae was sure none of them had built, but all had given some unsolicited advice about. When they noticed Rae approaching, they opened their small circle and allowed her to join them.

"Are you done with work for today?" Henry asked, his breath creating soft clouds of mist.

"Yes." Rae's eyes slipped to Emily, who was smiling at her. "Are the three of you done here?"

"For today, yes," Henrietta said, pointing to the large tent. "Tomorrow we have to set everything inside, but the structure is already put together so that means we're on schedule."

"That's good, I guess." Rae nodded to herself, keeping her hands in the pockets of her jeans. To Emily, she asked, "Do you need me to take you home? You didn't drive here today, did you?"

"No. I still haven't found someone to fix my car." She pouted.

"I could make some calls," Henry said, surprising both Emily and Rae. He glanced between them and blinked. "What? I could call Pete tomorrow morning. It doesn't hurt to help."

"You seemed pretty against my help earlier today," Emily whispered but thanked him for the help, which seemed to please Henry enough.

Rae said her goodbyes to Henrietta and her brother, and she and Emily left the town centre towards the town hall building where the main door was opened.

"So, I, hm," Rae cleared her throat, "I could also drive us to my place. I could cook you dinner. If you want."

Rae's heart raced as she stared at Emily a few steps ahead of her. She stopped under the building's archway and turned to face Rae with a small smirk.

"And what will you cook for us?"

Us. There it was again. Rae could seriously get addicted to that word.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "I don't remember what I have in the fridge, but I'll make us something. Do you want to stop by your place first to grab a change of clothes?"

"I thought this was only dinner."

Rae ruffled her hair and joined Emily at the top of the stairs. She stepped closer until Emily leaned on the stone wall behind her, her eyes focused on Rae as she smiled.

"I just want you to be comfortable," Rae said as her thumb ran lazy circles on Emily's cheek. "But it would only be fair if you spent the night at my place after I did it at the cabin."

"Do I get to choose whether I want the bed or the couch?"

Rae nodded and leaned closer to Emily until their lips touched in a light kiss. "Whatever you want," she said.

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© mxxnlightwriting 2024 All Rights Reserved. Copying, reposting, translating and/or modifications of my work are strictly prohibited.

[mrsmalfoymagic]

Card Five

I didn’t take long to find its owner. There seemed to be a force between the two of us to always find each other in a crowd. Like gravity pulling me to him.

And as my eyes made their way towards the fireplace, finally catching glimpse of Remus Lupin hunched into the heat, lost in a book as he always was, I began to blush. 

I put down my own and tried to delicately approach as to not startle him. He had a reputation for being clumsy, and - whilst holding a novel beside an open fire, I didn’t like his chances.

“Uh, Remus.” I announced quietly. He jerked his head up, face filling with crimson as he acknowledged me.

“Y/n. Hi.”

We’d only ever spent any length of time around each other at the library where we’d reside solitarily during our free periods or stupidly late hours. We were never ones for small talk, so outside of class I don’t believe we’d had a single conversation. In fact, I don’t believe I’d ever even heard him speak.

My face replicated the same blood red as his and I squinted awkwardly, holding up his card to inform him of our fates.

“I picked you.”

“Oh. Alright. I suppose we should go.” His accent was strong and educated, but anxious and timid. He stood, brushing down his robes and poising himself straight, shadowing over me and blocking the cloud of warmth crackling behind him.

His manner was polite as he assisted me through our classmates towards the cupboard. I had expected nothing less than chivalry of him. We were library partners, but never confirmed it through spoken – or even written word. The only exchanges placed were little smiles from above our pages, stealing glances between our world-escaping plights. Like perfectly placed bindings in time. Baring ourselves at our peak vulnerabilities to share in each other’s entertainment.

Despite the immensity of its size, we’d somehow know to not stray too far apart in the library; subconsciously finding our settlements a few tables apart, but always managing to achieve a perfect opposing line of vision; allowing the ability to master responses to new books or topics by the speed in which we completed them, the oftenest of locking eyes, or - in Remus’ case - if he’d fall asleep against the spreadeagle spine; something he seemed to do a lot.  

No, I didn’t know him, admittedly, but from these - our shared moments, I had come to recognise enough of his behaviours to learn he was wise above his age, caring and loyal beyond measure.

Yet somewhere, I sensed a fragility. Like a goose-feathered pillow hiding deeply an explosion that didn’t have a specific means of detonation.  

 He lit up the room as we entered. The door which Sirius and James were ardently protecting locked behind us and my cheeks burnt with nervousness. This wasn’t my usual idea of fun, but keeping myself under the radar with my classmates, I consenting to participating. And who better to face the music with than Remus Lupin. Without even knowing the remainder of cards still yet to be drawn, he was the best of all outcomes. I’d already made my silent connections with him. He’d become a peaceful existence in my life. But I wasn’t used to these interactions and felt lost in the realisation of this game’s objectives.

So as much as my inexperienced-self wished, there was no cowering behind books in here.

“Hello.” He grinned, again barely uttering. His cheeks expanded broadly through his expression and I couldn’t help but giggle. He was a charming discovery, to say the least. And despite my trembling fingers clasping behind my back, I felt safe.

“Any closer to finishing that book?” He took a step towards me, “I couldn’t help but notice it was a hardship.”

“Not at all. It’s my Astronomy class. Ironically, I feel I’m learning less the more I read about it.”

Another step closer.

“Perhaps I could help. What part are you studying?”

“Selenography. The moon.”

His smile widened and he was now upon me; directly in my space; his brogues hitting the tips of my own. There was a new glint in his heavy, restful eyes. No doubt his lack of sleep was from staying up all night reading new books.

“I know a thing or two.” His voice was gentle, almost seductive.

What I couldn’t help but note was his odour – crisp pages and the incense of ink. He had ash residue on his robes from the spitting logs, and I could still smell the fire against him. It was addictive and was guaranteed the blame to my momentary out of character response.

“You’re still talking about my class, right?”

I couldn’t believe it - it just came out. I shocked myself realising I was flirting.

He reacted coolly but tilted his head with a squint of curiosity.

“No, I don’t believe I am.” His expression suddenly shared the same self-intrigue as mine. We were both flirting.

Taken aback by his own response, he tried a subtle retreat, but began to stumble over his robes; hobbling backwards to catch himself until eventually, with a small grunt, landed harshly against the door with a shocking bang.

He was intelligent and adorable beyond compare, but heavens, was he uncoordinated.

“Damn it.” He cursed, gripping on the doorframe to support himself upright.

“You two alright in there?” Sirius yelled out on the adjacent side of the door with a few determined knocks.

“Yes.” Remus replied loudly in an irritated mortification and lowered his face into his palms. 

I watched him for a moment, a glint of pity against the reassuring smile I had pinned to my lips in case he looked up. Until suddenly, and unexpectedly, I started to laugh.

It was provoked by shyness and pure embarrassment, I was sure - feeling the knot cripple me into submission and before I knew it, I was wiping the tears out of my eyes and steadying myself against the stone wall.

“Sorry.” I breathed, believing my response was humiliating him further. But, as my hands fell back to my sides, they grazed at the form of Remus, who had now approached me again.

I looked up to find his manner bothered. His eyes blinked harshly as he considered himself.

“May I?” he asked, lifting his hand, and holding it upright towards my cheek. I nodded, keeping my eyes firmly on his fluttering ones.

Using the stub of his index finger, he carefully tucked the falling wave of hair behind my ear. Exhaling in relief, a new smile formed upon his full lips, like he had just performed a task of great difficulty.

“I can’t do justice to the full expression,” He muttered kindly whilst still admiring the tiny details of my facial outline, “But you have an entrancing effect on me.”

His fingers were now lacing around the curls against my shoulder, inspecting the silky texture.

“You aren’t to understand. I would never expect you to.”

After half a minute of combing at my hair and being lost in reverie, he gulped away a forming sorrow before lowering his head on his shoulders.

”I wish it were as simple as telling you.”

I pinched at his chin and lifted his face to find mine once again, showcasing the similar smile I had previously.

“Then show me.” I said softly.

In any other setting I would be out of place with these interactions, but with Remus, it all felt natural.

He considered my words for a moment and the seriousness of my focus against his almond eyes, before finding my hand.

“Are you ready for your first Astronomy lesson?” his lip ticked to a short smile.

I nodded innocently and allowed Remus to direct me out of the closet and begin heading towards the Astronomy tower.

 We walked in silence, making sure to hide in the shadows of the halls and columns whenever we suspected a prefect or professor was heading our way, before at long last we made it to the highest point of the castle. The Astronomy tower was webbed with rails and structures, architectural beams lined the extent of the room. A brass sundial pointed outwards towards the cloudless evening. Golden and intricately detailed telescopes were poised at all four corners of the open bays.

Other than the basic tools to marvel at the heavens, there was little as far as interior to the tower – its masterpiece of course being the view it held - displaying full range of vision to every area of Hogwarts including as distant as elements of the Forbidden Forest.

 Staying adamantly in the darkness of the room, Remus issued me towards the centre directly in front of the magnificent global display, illuminated by the full moon now baring down from the midnight hour and in through the widest, banistered opening which welcomed a deadly, multi-story drop.

“Lesson one.” He started, wandering in the pitch blackness. His voice rippled through the tower, “The moon is separated into three parts. The light, dark… and grey.” He hesitated.

“I’ve been studying the light side. You know, the part we can see through a telescope.” I informed naively.

“Right. And the dark is not all that important. The grey area, however, is what I want to talk about.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“For good reason.” I lost him in the night, but could sense the trouble in his tone, “So before I tell you, are you absolutely sure you want to know?”

I shuffled in my spot, a sense of discomfort overcoming me but nodded; knowing that – despite not seeing him – he had firm eyes on me.

“Then rest assured, whatever the outcome, I won’t hurt you.”

The suddenness of the claim trickled unease against my spine. What was I doing here? What was Remus going to do?

That feeling of safety never seemed to slip away but I knew with any ounce of logic, I should never have followed him here. And, as a group of footsteps and voice came from the entrance, these newcomers felt the same too.

“What are you doing? Have you gone barmy?” Sirius Black yelled out as he fully emerged into the room, tailed closely by the two final Marauders, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. They’d clearly chased us here from the party, knowing the suspicious activities Remus was due to perform.

“Moony, don’t be stupid.” James insulted with a knowing attitude. It was as if they all had a sense of understanding of the situation. All except me.

I could hear the shuffle of feet ahead of me in the closest area of shade and knew Remus was before me.  

“Wait. I just want to try. Trust me.” His arms appeared from the distance and held out in a terrible attempt of reassurance, but he was unconvinced himself.

“In the castle? In front of her?” Sirius directed his attention to where I was stood, a wave of worry across his brow.

“You know what will happen if you take that step.” Peter reminded - his eyes focused on the blinding of the full moon upon the rest of us. I followed his sights, still trying to piece together this encounter.

“I’ll handle it. I’m ready.”

Remus took a single step closer making way towards the lit-up ground. James, unannounced, lifted his wand and licked his top lip anxiously.

“You know I don’t want to hurt you.” He recoiled, his wand ready and pointed, and face contorted in anguish.

“You won’t have to. I promise. Y/n…” he found my hard and intense eyes. I could feel it.

“Remus, what’s going on?” I pleaded; my tremoring hands now unable to settle.

“Y/n, get behind me.” Sirius stood forward, reaching over for my hand, “Now.”

I didn’t take it.

“Let’s all just calm down, alright.” Remus was more impatient, “I think I know what prevents it. I can stop this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Please, y/n.” James warned, his hand tightened on the wand still firmly fixed on his friend.

“Before you.” Remus resumed, “Before I ever met you, I was dangerous.”

The sound of another shuffle.

“Lupin – “ Sirius cautioned lowly, now standing in front of me to shield me.

“- Let me finish.” His voice was irritable now, feeling the hostility of the room become dense in his breath, “I was terrified of myself. The darkness inside was overwhelming. I began to go the library to distract myself. I thought it a good place to escape. It was safe, away from prying eyes. Away from who I really am; a monster.“

“- Are you sure you want her to know?” Peter questioned. Remus ignored him. And so did I.

“You’re not a monster, Remus. I at least know that about you.”

My voice was begging, filled with panic and honesty. I heard a half-hearted sigh.

“When I saw you, everything changed. I finally felt at ease.”

He took a slow step towards the light and we could at last see him. His eyes were low and his expression solemn. The boys stirred.

“And over time I slowly realised it had nothing to do with where I was at all. I’d found comfort in where you were. So -”

As he was about to take the last move into the direct beam of the moon, Sirius jerked forward.

“Really think about this, Remus. What this will do.”

Remus pursed his lips together defiantly and took a brave inhale through his nostrils, before moving aside, burning himself in the glow.

The boys all flinched and reacted in alarm. For a moment they seemed reassured as nothing happened. Remus’ eyes remained closed and face deep in concentration.

We all stared onwards, my breath heavy and out of sync.

Then out of nowhere, Remus’ body began to seize, an agony crippling him in half. He began to cry out in pain, his voice becoming hoarse from the scream.

Sirius’ stance against me widened as he paced forward, and with a confirming nod to James, began to hunch himself over. I was frozen in disorientation; completely useless to help him because I had no clue what was causing any of this. James had not fired any spells; Sirius had not flung himself at him yet. There was no logical explanation for his reaction - his turmoil. Or even theirs.

“Remus, I’ll have to change.” Sirius looked over his brow at him, bracing himself.

“No!” Remus desperately reached his arm out, preventing him. He fell to his knees, soaring in twitching intensity.

“Y/n, you really ought to go.” Peter said with a quiver in his voice as he approached me.

“She stays.” Remus wheezed, “She needs to know.”

And suddenly I did. Like a jolt of lightening to my system. Him saying that - I knew. I finally knew.

The library. The restless sleep. The grey part of the moon. Somewhere in my subconscious I had read it during my studies. This was it - his detonation.

Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

“Remus, this is ridiculous. James!” Sirius looked to the wand, but before James could do anything, I had bypassed the chaos and, fuelled by unprecedented compassion, made way towards Remus.

Kneeling before him, I rested my hand against the trembling, vein-popping one gripping at the cold floor. Sirius aimed for us, but Peter held his robe and pulled him back, suspecting my intentions.

“Remus, you don’t have to prove this to me. This isn’t who you are.”

He was looking down, begging for release from the boiling against his skin.

“I can control it, I swear. I just –“

He was letting go, being defeated by the pain of his harsh reality - his disbelief that he was anything other than a violent beast. He thought bringing me would make him see that it wasn’t true - that he could command it. But now, with the magnitude of celestial torment against his back, the strength of his curse running through him as thick as his poisoned blood, he couldn’t stop it. It was overbearing the test he so desperately wished to pass. He wanted to stand in front of the moon, and for once, be human.

And I understood it now. It all made sense, it always had – our ties together, our purposes for being so close without uttering a single word, being calming presences for each other. Why we were so drawn to one another. The control, the distraction. He couldn’t master it himself.

 Maybe all of this was never his choice to make.

 Maybe it was mine.

 Under my palm, I could sense the stubble of hair bursting from his pores and nails expanding to ferocious claws.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t - you have to go.” He admitted in surrender. I felt the air thicken behind me as the three friends prepared for a battle once this would inevitably get ugly.

I shook my head and grabbed his in my hands, allowing the risk of his free forming claw to attack at any given moment. But I trusted him. As he said, he wouldn’t hurt me. And I knew it.

I stole his eyes, begging into them to see me. His were squinted in terror, budding with tears. His lips trembled in fear and sincerity.

“I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

My throat pulsed with adrenaline filled oxygen and just like that, my lips crashed onto his. It was painful and severe and with purpose. His skin was white hot, but it was fragile all the same, filled with desire and need, and a magnificent vulnerability.

I could feel the twitching against his mouth, the irregular beat of his heart as my arms found their way around his shoulders and to his back to comfort him in an embrace.

Suddenly, his own cupped around me and stole me into his whimpered stature. I gasped, and clenched my eyes shut – for a moment I had thought he had fully transformed and was initiating an attack. But I began to feel warm, gentle hands, with gracious tips and no sharp talons.

He was softening in the hug, returning to his own senses. His skin was cooled and still, his bones stopped vibrating, and the boy I had so deeply considered, so earnestly cared for was back.

 “How in the fu-“ James mouthed, slumping his arms to his sides, and dropping his wand. Sirius looked over to him, finally able to let out a bewildered breath that had left him since the beginning of this confrontation. Peter stared on with a cheery, relieving laugh.

Remus refused to let me go, and I could feel his content as he wrapped me up in his body. I began to smile through his kiss pressed safely against my own. He pulled away, watching me with admiration.

We both stood, Remus still encasing me in his cuddle, and as we both finally found steadiness from the sting of the concrete floor, he noted the moon still highlighted across my face.

Swallowing in anticipation, I awaited his response.

“I knew it.” He exhaled brokenly, still sore and shaking his head subtly in disbelief as he stared intently at me.

“Not clumsy.” I giggled tenderly, brushing the flustered strands of hair away from his clammy temple, “Just a little reckless.”

He pecked at my forehead before lowering his to mine, “Thank you.”

 “Uh, hello?!”

We both stared back at the friends now inspecting the pair of us in befuddlement.

“I told you to trust me.” Remus squinted from the unaccustomed brightness and teased a smirk.

With murmured cursives, they all approached, playfully retrieved Remus, and tackled him under the hue of the full moon, completely free of the fear that had devastated the entirety of their friendship. At last, but not knowing how long or how guaranteed the freedom, they weren’t looking to the night sky to determine their friend’s fate. Or even their own. The conversation could wait, for now they wanted to savour it, and by the looks on all their faces, they certainly were.

 After the ruckus, Remus took my hand and aided me back to the room of requirement where the party had died down, and students were dispersing to their dorms.

“I can finally have a night off from your wolfy shenanigans.” Sirius joked as they all gave quick exchanges of farewells; James tapped me on the back gratefully while Sirius winked his thanks. Peter ruffled up Remus’ hair before the three of them headed back to their own rooms with new skips in their steps.

 As I swivelled to face him, ready to declare my own goodnight after quite possibly the best, craziest and most mentally exhausting night of my life so far, Remus had made way towards the other end of the small area that we had spent the larger portion of our evening; back at the grand fireplace to retrieve the book that had been awaiting his return. The flames were still high, and the room dimly-lit. He glanced over at me with a look of pure welcome.

The reality was, I didn’t want to go to my dorm. Not one bit. I was finally able to be alone with Remus tonight, for its majority had been plagued with self-loathing and misunderstanding. Now, stood against the heat of the room with a look of unimaginable adoration, I couldn’t resist enjoying his company longer.

I came to, inviting myself into his space and ran one hand up against the chest of almost tattered robes while the other caressed against the top of his fingers clutching his book.

He raised his brow with a cheeky expression.

“No more funny business. How about you just… read to me.”

He stole a light approving kiss and ushered me to sit beside him on the large sofa. Wriggling my way below the arm he now had raised for me to rest under, he skimmed the pages and creased spine to find his place in his story.

He gave me one last check, beaming with appreciation, and comforted himself into my embrace.

“The day had finally arrived. After four years in the waiting, the infamous Robert Grimshaw would return home. Whenever the appropriate occasions called, the locals would greed themselves on talk of him - his woeful story, and his inevitable demise. Whispers were regularly made of his return, often retold, and largely falsified…“

I settled in, feeling my heavy eyes lower into a soft slumber against Remus’ low beating heart.

It was turning to be a quiet night and at long last for Remus…

 Peaceful.

[formula1shot]

Maybe apart but always a part of me.

Rumour has it that when your heart breaks, everyone around you will start pointing at you as if you were the most miserable human being on earth, always in search for compassion and someone to lean on. That might be true for most cases but not for yours.

Breaking up with Daniel wasn’t really the worst experience you had been through but sort of . And as much as you were trying to pretend that you had seen it coming, well, you didn’t at all. The day that Daniel looked for you just to tell you that it was over was still clear and loud in your mind and you struggled to think that you could get better in just a matter of days. The first grand prix of the year was in fact just round the corner and you really had to collect all the pieces together and try to look like a normal person. Or at least, a not broken one. The fact that you still wanted to appear and be present to such events was that in the past five years you had become friends with almost each and every one in the paddock and as much as it still hurt, you did not want to lose the friendship with anyone of them. They had become like a second family, the ones you could always trust when you desperately needed a drink or get drunk, when you needed advise they were always there as much as they were to mock you and get on your nerves. But you cared about them and you could tell they also did and plus, they also were the closest you could get to him. You perfectly knew that you could not stay away from that world for too long and the winter break had already been the longest one in years so you were also a little happy that you could finally be back.

The travel had been one of the longest ones you could remember and the feeling of finally touching the ground and be able to breathe properly sent a little rush of relief over your spine. Which broke in the exact moment you heard his laugh behind your back. You were absolutely sure that he had not seen you yet and you kept walking, moving faster towards other people so that you could hide yourself in those sea of lost souls.

«Hello there!» Landos’ greetings could’ve not been louder and you mentally sent him in that place far far away.

«Hey you, how’s going?» he pulled you for a hug and you almost choke between his arms.

«And most important: when did you get so strong?» he grinned at you and you tried to smile back. He was a nice guy, shorter than you but way stronger (being stronger than you wasn’t that difficult after all). You chatted a bit and you found relieving that fact that you could just enjoy someone’s company without having to fake or pretend that it was all okay. He was a good listener after all but you soon discovered that most of them actually were and also sincerely interested in you and how you felt. It seemed a bit strange at first but then you easily got lost in words and you found out that you desperately needed to speak with someone. Someone new but most of all, someone who also spoke to him. You needed to feel him in the words of other people, in their thoughts, sentences; it hurt but you didn’t care as long as you could get closer to him, even if it already was the closest that you had been in 4 months.

The day went by and just in the blink of an eye it was dark. You were in your room which was once shared with his warmth and you felt completely and absolutely lost. You were sitting in the middle of the bed, knees to your chest and you kept looking at the sheets, not even convinced that you could stay there alone without having a panic attack. The pain was great and you didn’t even know how to deal with it without throwing up or fainting. He was just some rooms away from yours. He was there: calm, breathing, maybe giggling a bit if one of his friends sent him those stupid videos, half naked with messy hair. He was there and you could have been there to – if he only wanted you. If you only were enough, if he only was still happy with you. A silent tear fell on your check and a sudden knock on the door almost caused you an heart attack. You stood up, not really sure if you really wanted to open that door but that someone kept knocking and screamed your name.

«Open. This. Fucking. Door.» Daniel shouted as loud as he could and you immediately responded. As soon as his eyes reached your face, they went wide open..

«What did you do?! Did you take any pills?! Please TALK TO ME!»

You took his hands off your face.

«What are you talking about?! Are you crazy?! Maybe you took something. You don’t even stand alcohol.»

You wiped the tears and looked for a tissue which he promptly lent you. You looked at him and you suddenly felt anger growing in your stomach.

«So? You don’t talk anymore now? Are you really on drugs?»

«Stop talking to me like that. The guys told me that they tried to phone you but you weren’t answering, that they knocked on your door and you wasn’t there. Someone also told me that they saw you going out all alone and I was hell scared. I was.. yeah, scared.»

He never left your eyes as he spoke and you just kept staring at him like he could disappear any moment.

«Why would you even care if I disappeared?»

His face went dark and he looked like he was disgusted of what you had just said.

«Do you really think that I could not even care? Do you think I don’t care about you? Just because I said those.. things, it doesn’t mean that I don’t want you around me or.. that I don’t love you.»

«But you said you were done.»

«Yeah and it does not mean that I don’t love you anymore.» he repeated that putting the accent on the word love and your knees went weak. Tears were now fully covering your face and you couldn’t stop them.

«So.. »

«So.. The guys must have been really smart in doing this.»

«How are you?»

He stepped forward and placed an hand on your face. It was so soft and warm and you wished that moment could last forever.

«You are really asking how I am? Are you really worrying about this right now?» he sighed and looked in your eyes. All your world was there, all your certainties and securities were in the colour of his eyes, all your successes and best moments were wrapped there. You nodded and he grinned a bit.

«Listen – he took your face into his hands – I was a complete fool. I was crazy, I was selfish and most of all I was blind. All these years by your side have been great and yeah, we might have had some tough moments, some downs but you were there and that was more than enough to put everything aside. It’s only been 4 months now and they seemed ages. Ages. Waking up alone, eating alone, walking alone. No laughs, no smiles, no sleep. All gone.» his voice cracked a bit and you decided to place your hands on his hips. You felt him shiver against your touch and you immediately regretted doing this, fearing that he might pulled away from you. But he got closer instead and his hot breath finally warmed your coldness.

«I know that I hurt you and I’ve also said some horrible things that I completely regret now but if you could give me a second chance I.. » you stopped him and wiped some tears off his beautiful face.

«But why did you leave me?» you were only whispering but he heard you good enough.

«I think I just had to figure out what my life would have been without you. And I understood I don’t want to know it all. I think I just had to have some time off and.. it turned out to be the worst choice ever. I.. I am sorry» and there, he completely fell apart.

His face was on your chest and you could hear your heart pounding against his cheek. It was wild but he really didn’t seem to be worried about it. He liked speed, after all. You were playing with his hair and placing small kisses on his forehead. He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly as if he was finally able to properly breathe again.

«What are you thinking about?»

«I am.. complete. I thought I had lost you forever then they told me you were not there and.. I really had to try my best to find you again. Once again.»

Your kisses became stronger and you also started moving towards his jaw line. His hands moved on your back as he shifted his body on top of yours. His warmth, his scent, the softness of his skin.. You were addicted to every single cell of his body. He touched your lips with the tip of his nose and you giggled softly as he wandered through your body with his steady gaze.

«But you found me.»

«Yeah and I honestly don’t know how I got so lucky.»

«I’ve never really left.. I really cannot stand being far from you. I was in constant pain and.. I’ve missed you a lot. I.. I don’t know if I can stay away from you.»

«We don’t need to.. I was stupid; I was letting go of one of the best things that ever happened to me. Through thick and thin you’ve always been there.. I don’t think I deserve you.»

You smiled and couldn’t help but kiss him right away. His lips were so soft and smooth, his grip so firm as if he was scared that you might escape from his arms. His hands went from your hair to your hips, searching for your skin, so needy. And so were you, in desperate need of his naked body against yours as if touching his body could bring you closer to his heart and his soul could be read as your favourite book. As you both got rid of your clothes you also got rid of the anxiety, of the fear of being distant again, of not being able to reach out and find the warmth, the passion, the light. His body was a maze, actually the best one in which you had ever lost yourself into, the one where all the roads lead to the right centre of your personal universe. Loving him was the greatest adventure but being loved back was the true miracle. And then you were home again.

[annhellsing]

A Hundred Demons

notes: i accidentally deleted my other naraku fic so have some uhhh questionable romantic liaisons rating: teen, there’s some making out but nothing heavier pairing: naraku / reader word count: 1,796

You pry up the cellar door and flinch at the smell of decay. The castle festers at its core, exacerbated by Naraku’s transformation.

He detests this state, but the struggle of holding his body together is prolonged by denying it. His most precious asset is his ability to reforge flesh, And for this process he prefers to be alone. You know that. Still, you descend.

The smell is worse with your feet in the dirt. You’re careful not to grip the ladder too tightly, should your grip make the brittle wood crumble. You closed the hatch before climbing down, the only light now from the cracks around its edges.

It’s barely enough to make out the mass in the centre of the room, but your eyes adjust. A wriggling, pulsing thing blinks it’s single eye. Then, another tendril uncoils slowly, as if in sleep. Knotted together and writhing as one are a hundred demons.

At their centre is his head, bowed in sleep.

You feel a lurching sensation, a knee jerk reaction to the dirt in the cellar. It feels like old, dried blood beneath your feet. The corruption has seeped into the support beams of the cellar. You doubt the place would stand on its own if not for his magic.

Blinking slowly, you wait for the head to notice you. A demon’s maw lolls open, it’s fleshy tongue poking out at you before it also succumbs to sleep. Naraku’s body twitches unnaturally, and then his true head finally moves.

You see two red eyes beneath his black fringe. His skin is so pale, white in the shadows like a death mask. He sneers in your direction, seeing nothing but darkness and the faint outline of a person.

“Kagura?” he snarls. His eyesight is poor when he’s in pieces. Naraku inhales sharply, recognizing the new blood that woke him is human.

“No,” you reply, “it’s me.”

“Hm,” he grunts. It’s difficult to tell if he’s still angry. “I did not summon you.”

You shift your weight to your hip, hazarding to step closer. No doubt he’s irked at his sleep being interrupted, but you understand that his desires are always a double-edged sword. Regardless of your actions, it’s his natural state to be displeased.

“I missed you,” is the only excuse you can offer. 

You half expect him to dismiss it as pathetic, but instead Naraku hides his shock beneath a grimace. 

“I didn’t think you were foolish enough to disturb me as I regenerate,” he finally tries, though it lacks the bite you know he can have.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” your chin is still raised to look at him. But Naraku understands that it is at once both practical and an act of defiance. Despite that, he can’t bring himself to lash out.

Instead, he laughs. It’s like dark water, pulling you in a few more steps. You’re lulled into a half-way sense of safety, worried less for your own bodily health. Perhaps it’s too soon, you fear. But Naraku seems unwilling to pin you with cruelty.

“Of course, I suppose I am the one who disturbs,” he says, “at least, for the time being.”

His cheeks are gaunt and heavy bags hang under his eyes. He looks tired, his voice is barely more than a reedy breeze. He creaks more than he speaks. You move even closer, until your toes touch the edge of the mountain of demons.

Naraku’s head is supported by a nexus of thick, gray tubes. His hair is entwined with the cellar rafters. He is hideous, you can admit that, and yet you shake your head.

“Do I not terrify you?” he asks, sounding more amused than shocked or angered by your lack of reaction. He does so love fear. “Most can’t bear to look.”

“Have many people seen you like this?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. You kneel on the body of the demon at your feet, using it as a stepping stone to get to the second.

Naraku makes a dismissive noise, unwilling to grace your question with an answer. He lacks one that will prove his point, and that annoys him.

“I thought as much,” you reply, “Kagura’s opinion hardly counts, in that case.” The demons are foul to the touch, but you manage to climb them one by one. Naraku stays terribly still as you do so, waiting and watching to see what you’ll do. 

“And yours does?” he asks. A hint of thank ink-black, cruel humour creeps into his voice again. Still, you don’t flinch. He wonders if you might wish to hear him laugh again.

“Generally yes,” you kneel on the back of a sturdier demon, your eyes at level with his. “As I’m your lover,” you’re close enough for him to smell your blood, and the hummingbird beat of your heart. 

You’re fragile, he thinks. But then again, so is he. And you’re looking at him with the worst kind of adoration a creature like him can fathom. Still, in his chest that’s now in pieces on the cellar floor, his heart that was once human lurches in your direction.

“You make a compelling argument,” Naraku decides. There is still a sharpness in his eyes, and it comes from ugly fear. You’re close enough that in a single, violent motion he could be dead. And your knife could be bloody.

But you keep your hands on your knees, looking at him with your head tilted. You move slowly, as if you know exactly what he’s afraid of. Maybe he has a right to be unnerved by this, but that won’t make you stop.

You lift your hands and put them on his cheeks, wiping dirt and grime from his face. His thin lips turn up into a smirk. He is a monster, a hateful, terrifying beast of hell and still you lean in to kiss him.

Your lips are human and soft. You’re warmed through, not disquietingly clammy the way he is. But you seem not to notice. You seem to reach through the haze of evil energy and the smell of decay to find the spark of heat belonging to Onigumo. That bit of life that makes you love him so.

He drags his tongue across your bottom lip, demanding out of habit that he be granted entry. Naraku gets what he wants, he’s used to that. So when you press your mouth closed, making a tight seal that his sharp teeth can’t break-- his eyes open.

“Did you come here only to torment me?” he asks, pulling away enough to be coherent. But he’s still so close.

He’s never felt more like an insect than when chasing your warmth. Naraku has looked on at moths flying headlong to their death, toward fire and now he understands why. It’s addictive, your humanity. It’s like a song that he could fall into.

He wishes he had arms, that’s what the longing in his displaced chest is telling him. He’ll wrap you up and keep you with him for hours when he’s finished remaking his body. And you won’t be able to deny him a thing.

But for now, you look at him with an amused expression he does not appreciate. You have ideas above your station and too little fear for his taste. At least, until you press your lips to his again.

It seems you grant him permission to deepen the kiss now, though he doesn’t know what’s changed. He’s the same as he was a minute ago, just as breathless and horrible to behold. Perhaps you simply wanted to prove you could control him.

That thought is simultaneously gut-wrenching and delicious. Naraku doesn’t know which is worse.

The smell of rot doesn’t register as pervasively, you notice. You put your hands in his long, black hair and drag his severed head against your mouth. Your fingers brush gray-mottled tendons and pale flesh. 

He’s making decisions about which parts of him to keep even as he accepts your kiss, but he’s working a lot slower than before you arrived.

You have a nice time ruining his solitary confinement, sneaking kisses over his cold flesh. You try your best to warm him, he realizes, and the sentiment is unhelpfully pleasant. He loses count of how many times he needs to reconsider his decision to discard part of himself, you’re a beautiful distraction.

“I’m inhibiting you,” you say when you finally pause to breathe. He mirrors the action, struck very suddenly by how distant the need to do so was with your mouth to his jaw.

“Deeply,” he replies.

“My apologies,” you say, bowing your head. “I really did miss you.”

“If it would please you,” he begins, making you lift your head, “you may stay a while longer.”

“It would please me,” you reply. You kiss the corner of his mouth, moving too quickly for his poor vision to see. “I’ll be still as a mouse so you can be done sooner.”

Naraku closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before nodding. You can feel a shift in the cellar as he goes back to sleep. So much for parting remarks, you suppose. But he isn’t one for affection, especially not when vulnerable.

You sit back on your knees, watching his severed head hang from the rafters. And the sight, to your intense displeasure, inspires no fear. You know what he is, who he is, and still you make yourself comfortable.

Somewhere in the space between Naraku regrowing his neck and shoulders, you too succumb to sleep. The dark, cool cellar fades away, as does the smell of rot. You lean against the old wooden wall, the demons underfoot don’t bother you.

By nightfall, he’s finished. And you, his lover, lie curled up on the packed earth. His body is as it was, but now it’s much stronger. He feels better, more in control and sturdy. As much as he would like to look down on you with vague disgust brewing in his now rightly-placed heart, he can’t.

You’re roused hours later, somewhere just as dark but less oppressively macabre. You’re not in the cellar any more, you know by the smell. The wet, old air is cleaner in this new place.

Your fingers brush the floor, no longer made of packed earth. It’s tatami, you realize, the same tatami found in Naraku’s private chamber. 

Sitting up, you realize how warm you are in this new place. Even in the blue-dark, you can’t feel anyone else’s eyes on you. You’re alone. 

You look down next, wondering what’s covering you. You didn’t bring anything when you climbed down the ladder. But thrown over your chest, undisturbed by your heavy sleep is a white cloak of baboon fur.

[wickedmilo]

YOU’RE REALLY NOT MY TYPE | MILO & LUCE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 1:13 AM SUMMARY: Tired of drinking alone, Milo approaches Luce and makes an attempt to befriend her. It does not go well. WRITING PARTNER: @divineluce CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, inebriation, PTSD

Milo was drunk. If he considered being inebriated a regular occurrence before his death, he had taken things to an entirely new level after waking up as a vampire. Even with Harsh making an effort to help him learn and understand, things were difficult. Beyond difficult. He missed his old life, missed being in the centre of a crowd, making friends with every single stranger in the smoking area, going home with someone without even knowing their name. He couldn’t do any of those things anymore. Not without an overwhelming desperation for blood. Not without fear, and anxiety clawing viciously at his chest. That didn’t ease the need to drink though, his body was still craving what it had been relying on for years. There was only so much he could do before being alone and sober became too much. Which was how, not for the first time, he found himself at a bar. 

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid. But he was so tired. If he could steal even a semblance of his old life back, then he was going to try. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting alone, staring down at the dregs in his glass, before he finally forced himself to his feet. There was a girl who didn’t look too far from his age, sitting alone just across from where he was lurking in the shadows. If she didn’t want company, he would leave. And if his bloodlust became too great, he was confident he would find a way to excuse himself. With that justification playing over in his mind, he set down his empty glass on her table. “Any chance you’ve reached the point of realising how depressing it is to drink alone, and wouldn’t say no to some company?” He asked, his voice lazy, drawn out by the alcohol in his system. “I mean, tell me to screw myself and I’ll go- I swear, I just- well, I’ve reached that point.” 

The nightmares were still coming. She’d heard bits and pieces of the weird dream situation from fucking Leah of all people, a fact that irritated Luce to no end. She’d heard that whatever supernatural bullshit that had been fucking with the town’s collective sleep schedule was over. But, tonight-- just like so many other nights-- Luce’s dreams had jolted her awake and driven her from the place she called home. She could see Lydia’s face, staring at her, wide eyed as she stalked towards her. She could see herself, blood rolling down the wound in her leg, dripping from the knife she’d yanked out of her own flesh. Luce had watched, hovering behind Lydia, and had seen the unrelenting rage in her own eyes as she’d lunged forward and stabbed the iron spear through her body. Luce had felt the iron burn and sear against her skin, she’d heard the begging, pleading screams that still haunted her to this day. And then she’d woken up. And dragged herself here. Some shitty hole in the wall bar with shitty, cheap whiskey. But at least it was cheap. 

Staring at the bottom of her glass Luce paused mid sip as some random kid approached her table. He looked as though he’d been drinking just as long as she had and he sounded it too. “If you’re making a pass, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” She said, more tired than irritated for once. “If you actually just want to drink. Sure. Go for it.” She said and gestured to the chair next to her.

Milo laughed, unable to stop the sound from escaping his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He teased, his tone lighthearted, as he took a seat. “You’re really not my type.” Getting comfortable, something that was all too easy to do considering how inebriated he was, he tapped his fingers absentmindedly against his glass. If he leaned back against his chair a little, he could almost ignore the close proximity, the smell of his company’s blood. “So,” he started, watching the girl sitting across from him with an open curiosity. People didn’t just drink alone at bars when they were happy. Not in his experience, at least. “Do you get hit on by strangers very often?”

“Good cuz you’re not mine either.” Luce snorted. This guy looked like he was Nell’s age. A fucking kid. But, hey, if he was old enough to drink, so be it. And even if he wasn’t, she didn’t really give a shit. As he made himself comfortable, Luce stared at the ice cubes in her glass, willing them to melt. She wanted them to melt. For them to bubble and froth and to sublimate straight to vapor. But, they sat stubbornly whole in a pool of amber. Glancing over at the kid, she laughed. “No. Other way around.” She said before lifting the glass to her lips, “Usually, not right now though. Not really looking for that kind of company tonight. And if I was, it wouldn’t be here. Flaming Mo’s, Friction, anywhere but this shitty little bar.” She said, rattling off the usual haunts. Well, usual before shit had gone down with Remmy and Nadia, before her magic refused to flow through her veins.

Milo smiled. The easy, playful nature of the conversation was allowing him to relax. There was still a faint voice in the back of his mind telling him he couldn’t afford to, but it was the same voice that occasionally told him not to drink, or not to accept an unnamed substance from a stranger. He had been readily ignoring it for years. “Oh, really?” He asked, grinning easily at his company’s admission. He had a feeling he was going to like her. “So what’s got you drinking in this shitty little bar?” He asked. “There has to be a reason you aren’t at Flaming Mo’s, or Friction.” He downed what was left in his glass, dregs, really, before turning his attention back to the girl. 

Still staring at the ice cubes in her cup, Luce’s lips curled slightly at his question. Nope. A lot of shit had happened in the last year. A lot had changed, including her. But, she still wasn’t the type to just fucking unload her problems to some stranger at the bar. Let alone some kid who looked like he could barely afford his drinks. “Sometimes people just want a change in scene. Nothing wrong with that.” She said coolly, lifting her glass back to her lips. “What about you, huh? What’s got you here? There are plenty of other places in town that don’t card. And they’ve at least got a more lively scene than this,” Luce gestured to the sleepy looking bar, filled with other people who had been doing the same as her before this kid rolled up. They were all quietly stewing in their own thoughts, in their own misery, with a glass in hand because it was easier than sitting in the dark at home.

Milo knew from the look the girl gave him that she wasn’t about to tell her story. Which was only fair when he considered the fact that he definitely wasn’t ready to share his own. “A change of scenery like a downgrade?” He teased, glancing around at the less than classy establishment. There were posters tacked to the walls, thrown into focus by dingy, yellow lighting. The bar was small, the bottles behind it suspiciously dusty. And the lack of patrons was a sign of just how poor the customer service was. In a way, he almost liked it. It felt good to be somewhere so… unbothered. Whoever owned this place wasn’t out to draw crowds, or make money. They just wanted to give people a place to mournfully drown their sorrows, and he respected that. 

“Me? Oh, I really was looking for a downgrade.” He countered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. His eyes were shining though, a sign of his good nature. “You think I’m not old enough to drink? I’m 22.” He assured her, amused by the assumption. He had a list compiled in his head of every place in town that didn’t card at the door. Even though he didn’t need it anymore, the information seemed to be seared into his brain. Waving his hand, brushing off the mention of a livelier scene, he wrinkled his nose. He wanted a livelier scene, it just wasn’t an option for him right now. He had begrudgingly been forced to settle. “I’m kind of avoiding people right now…” He realised approaching her contradicted his statement, but it was the truth. Or sort of the truth. “Trying to, anyway.” He added. “Guess I’m not cut out for drinking alone.” 

Lips pressing together in a thin line, Luce finished off the last of her drink. “Change of scene like people not bothering me here.” She said pointedly. This wasn’t a place where people made conversation, or met with some friends after work for drinks. That was what places like Dell’s was for. This bar was a dusty hole in the wall where the people here were for one thing only-- cheap drinks.  “Uh huh. Sure you are.” Luce said with a shrug as she drummed her hands on the table. She should go home. She should just go home and just… deal. She should just go home and face it. With a sigh, Luce waved to get the sleepy-eyed bartender’s attention and gestured to call it quits.  

“Well,” Luce said with a long sigh, knocking on the table as she stood up from her chair, “Sounds like you’ve got some work ahead of you if that’s the case.” She said before putting a twenty on the table, gesturing to the kid as she made eye contact with the bartender. “Use whatever’s left to cover his drinks too.” She said before making her way out the door. “Good luck with whatever’s got you drinking here. Check out Mo’s when you have a chance. It’s a better scene than here.”  

Out in the cool night air, Luce paused outside the bar and pulled out her phone. She could Uber home, which would be fine. Or she could walk, it was how she got here in the first place. Without meaning to, Luce realized she was flicking through the contacts on her phone. She still had Remmy’s number. Which didn’t matter-- they’d left town. They were better off away from White Crest. Away from all the fucked up shit here. Away from her. Swallowing, her finger hovered over the delete contact button.  

She took a deep breath and hit the button. She had to move on, she had to move beyond her past. And that meant letting go. Stowing her phone back in her pocket, Luce headed back into the night. She had to go home.  

Milo frowned, suddenly feeling guilty for disturbing the girl. Although his motivations were often selfish, he never intended to cause trouble for anyone, and now he was forced to wonder whether she had agreed to his company to be polite. Or even worse, maybe she had felt as though she couldn’t say no to him. He stayed silent, listening to her brush off his comments. He liked to think he was self-aware enough to accept the fact that he wasn’t incredibly personable. On multiple occasions he had argued with people purely because they didn’t like his attitude, and looking back on said arguments, he couldn’t exactly blame them for getting upset. But he had kind of, almost been trying here. At the very least he had made a conscious effort not to be a dick. He watched as she flagged down the bartender, dropping a twenty before standing up to leave. “Oh- I… okay.” He couldn’t hide how miserable he felt, though he wasn’t sure why the rejection hurt. He had been alone five minutes ago, did it really matter if he was alone again now? Especially not when somebody had willingly paid for his drinks. 

Tapping his fingers against his glass, he downed what was left of the contents, thinking about the last time he had visited Mo’s. He wanted, more than anything, to trust himself in such a busy environment, but he had already taken too many risks. He wasn’t in control. When was he ever in control? Letting out a huff of breath, a habit he had yet to shake, he pushed away from the table too, uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, he had one in his mouth by the time he reached the door, desperate for a distraction from his thoughts. The cold air hitting his skin the moment he stepped outside, the vague scent of the girl he had been talking to still lingered in the air, but she had long since disappeared into the night, apparently desperate to get away from him. He sparked up, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he struggled to force down his emotions. It wouldn’t be the first time he had chased his feelings away with a trusty combination of nicotine, and alcohol. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.  

[mattysin]

heyyy it’s me, lisa ( 21, she/her, est ). this took me a hot minute ! I was going to take a nap but I’m writing this intro instead ( points for being productive ? ). pls like this or hit me up for plots, it is my fav thing ever gnfjd. anyway, get ready for sad boi hours I am truly so sorry.

new york’s very own matthew “matty” sinclair was spotted on broadway street , with a striking semblance to jacob elordi ! you may know them as @mattysin or hitting the front page of tmz as matty remerges after spending another year in rehab . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-second birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being destructive , but also caring . things that would paint a better picture of you would be a cigarette tucked behind an ear, sketches in a journal, and oversized sweaters . ( cismale + he/him  )

full name: matthew alexander sinclair 

nicknames: matty 

hometown: new york 

occupation: artist but mega trust fund baby

family: father & mother ( divorced ), step-father, older sister, older brother, twin sister ( deceased ) 

zodiac sign: pisces 

personality type: introvert, isfp 

moral alignment: chaotic neutral 

sexuality: bisexual 

aesthetics: worn out converse, shadows lurking in the past, cigarette tucked behind an ear, sketches in a journal, large glasses, I owe you’s, a bloodied lip, unsent letters, dishevelled hair, cold hands warm heart, oversized sweaters.

+ imaginative, gentle, caring, receptive, trusting

– destructive, self-centred, sensitive, withdrawn, quiet, submissive

trigger warnings;; drug addiction, overdose, familial death

born to two new york doctors, who finished their perfect family with the addition of twins, matty being the youngest ( by two minutes! ). the siblings had been as close as you would expect. silly disagreements between the elders and constant coddling to the youngest. it wasn’t surprising to find that the twins had been the closest of them all. early on their siblings had tested their twin connection thoroughly, working out what powers they may have come to possess in the womb. their personalities differed, his twin sister mila had been exuberant where matty had been shy. wild, where matty was gentle. they by no means had twin telepathy either, usually on different thought processes. but it didn’t take long to discover it; their twin thing. they were akin to feeling the same emotions. it grew obvious that in the ways they hadn’t shared the same mind, they had shared the same heart.

at sixteen years old he lost half of him. a cliche car accident on a rainy day had left his life in shambles. matty could tell you the exact moment he knew she was gone, for he had felt it too. that day had claimed both of their lives. matty hadn’t been mentally present for the months following her death. not for funeral, not as they closed her bedroom door never to be reopened. he grew angry with the world and his family, for asking him to do the unthinkable - live without his twin. the family never recovered after the tragedy, his parents divorced and his siblings tried to keep their world together as the rest of them watched it fall apart. it was two days shy of their seventeenth birthday when matty had taken drugs for the first time, in an attempt to regain some of his former self. it hadn’t worked, but it had eased some of the pain.

that’s when the addiction began. hitting hard before anybody could stop it. matty had grown unrecognisable, stealing and lying were things that his siblings had come to expect from their brother. his parents were in strong denial, both being experienced doctors, they tried to cure the incurable. ultimately, having to make the difficult decision to cut him off. forcing matty set out on his own, one whole year he lasted, before he had his first overdose. an experience that should have scared him, but he had never felt so relieved. it had earned him a one way ticket to rehab, one that was short-lived. parts of his former self had remained though, a light peaking out of the darkness. a gentleness and care that had always been present. 

most don’t know the reasoning behind his sudden change in lifestyle. maybe his sketchbook would give a hint. but speculation would suggest that his twin sister had something to do with it, as it always had. either way, matty had checked himself into rehab, wanting to gain some control over his life. something he had succeeded in, having recently reached nine months of being clean. but the more days that pass by and he remains sober, the more he is forced to learn who he is without his better half. but, a city rivalry might just be enough to distract him...

personality

matty really hasn’t changed all too much from childhood, except for the changes in personality due to addiction and the crippling depression. really, a good person who does bad things. but ! he is gentle and caring, very attuned to people’s feelings. he can be quite shy and withdrawn, and really relies on others to force him out of his shell. submissive and overly trusting, he is usually taken advantage of or left disappointed. so very destructive and loves to self-sabotage !

headcanons

talks in his sleep

always hard to reach, never uses his phone 

loves his family more than anything but keeps them at arms length probably out of guilt

keeps a necklace his mother gifted him that he believes keeps him safe

is always cold therefore wears oversized sweaters only

definitely needs glasses but only wears them like 30% of the time

some wanted connections

a good influence, someone who keeps him sober

but also give me a bad influence !

someone that reminds him of his twin sister pls

someone he used to get high with

his dealer ? messy

any flings during or after his addiction give me

friends but they’re not really just friends, you know ?

an almost lover

anyone he met at rehab or aa or any support group

alllll the enemies, good reason or not

friends that don’t know about his past ?

friends that know too much about his past ?

literally anything

[lanajvmeson]

emerges frm a field of corn slinking in w a faux mink shrug dangling around my elbows n a strand of wheat between my teeth..... farmer eleganza.... hlo! my name’s nai. i am bt a humble ghoul arrived to haunt ur home. 23 n she/her pronouns n i live in manchester. fun fact my friend’s neighbour used to b harry styles PE teacher. i played delilah yrs ago as carlson young (n even cara delevingne at one point what the fk) which feels so weird n ancient to me nw bt i missed her a lot so decided to spruce her bk to life.... ANYWAY delilah’s pinterest is here n i’ll jst leap right into things without further ado

(NICOLA PELTZ, CIS-FEMALE) - Have you seen DELILAH ASTOR? LILAH is in HER JUNIOR year. The POLITICAL SCIENCE MAJOR is 21 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE is BEGUILING, BLUNT, CUNNING and APATHETIC. Rumors say they’re a member of CALLOWAY. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE WAS IN A REHABILITATION CENTRE IN SWITZERLAND INSTEAD OF DOING CHARITY WORK LIKE HER SOCIAL MEDIA CLAIMED.  (NAI. 23. GMT. SHE/HER.) 

HISTORY

their family is kind of modelled off the sedgwick family like old money n pretty dysfunctional bt all abt keeping up a seamless facade of perfection... with a pinch of the kennedy’s in there. her dad’s high up in politics n his dad before tht ws in politics n it’s just a long prestigious line of clones in expensive suits as far as delilah’s concerned. her dad i picture as like.... nate archibald’s grandfather in gossip girl.... personality wise.

for as long as she cn remember she’s found this cookie cutter white picket fence life boring. stifling. to delilah it’s like being hemmed in a stuffy room n forbidden frm opening a window. it’s all vry Rich People Problems i wnt lie bt <3 she feels everlastingly bored. All The Time. plus her family hs always been a focal point fr tabloids etc which doesn’t help this feeling of not rly Living but just being the focus of a spectator sport. they’re lowkey a bit of a household name so they get a bunch of scrutiny n......... well. new bullet point alert! cue a powerpoint transition

(self harm & depression tw) frm being young delilah always knew there ws sort of. a white noise inside her where everyone else saw a technicolour movie screen. it rly hit her at like 12 i’d say as she was jst coasting towards adolescence. it ws pretty obvious frm her behaviour i’d say bt her parents only became Aware it ws a problem when she stuck a fork into a socket n short circuited the power in the house. she got shocked unconscious n when she woke up she told the in house dr they’d called (to keep it under wraps frm outsiders) tht she just.... couldn’t feel anything. she’d been reading frankenstein (she’s always liked gothic literature) n thought it’d zap her to life like the monster

her parents got her on medication n figured that wld fix everything. they didn’t like to talk abt things and that was that. it wasn’t to be mentioned again

delilah’s parents r just very.... sterile. family is abt appearances. they’ll be all smiles n flowing conversation when ppl are around bt it feels like being an actress n reading frm a script. being a toy in a dollhouse

she had two siblings: an older sister named clara & a younger brother named elijah. clara ws always like.... the Dream daughter. did everything right. amazing grades. america’s sweetheart. LOVED by the press. did sm charity work. elijah was fine/kind of a slacker compared bt coasted by on athletic prowess (captain of the rowing team). delilah hs very much always been the anomaly in this idyllic line-up. middle child effect! altho having said tht she’s always ran w the popular crowd of her age group bc Rich + Pretty = Status. it’s all quite superficial n delilah’s attitude on the matter can b summed up w this photoset. having said tht there was Some merit in constantly being paraded around as “such a pretty thing” bc a few modelling agencies attempted to scout her bt delilah found that boring. she wants to b called brilliant not beautiful. her mother called this her “not playing to the advantages that god gave her”. with a tight-lipped smile and a “god forbid i use my brain”, delilah only disappointed her further <3

(drugs & ed tw) delilah gt pretty heavy into partying fr the sake of trying to Feel something. intense on the drugs front (coke n prescription pills). rarely eating. she got a silver broach of a swan tht she pins to most of her clothes n u can unscrew the swan’s neck n pull it out to reveal a little powder spoon. still wears this today. clara n delilah were always super close n clara wld cover fr her a bunch. making up lies n jst having her back to their parents if they ever asked where she was / she ws in trouble n needed to keep it under wraps. when delilah hd an article in a tabloid pretty mch like this one clara talked their parents dwn frm sending her to a rehabilitation centre in switzerland. they gt it pretty much scorched frm existence bt delilah kept a clipping bc honestly she thought it was funny hw pale her mother went abt it

(car accident & drunk driving & death tw) at a fancy benefit the astors were all attending among 4857925974 uppity families delilah wound up heading off w some of the rich kids n one thing lead to another n a couple of them gt arrested fr a coke scandal. delilah used her phone call to contact clara n fr once clara hd let loose a little n hd something to drink bt still drove to the station to bail delilah out n try n fix her mess bt.... skipped a red light n crashed. she died upon impact.

(hospitalisation & drugs & addiction tw) this made delilah spiral massively obviously.... she clung on by the skin of her teeth fr a while bt she rly was just getting quite out of control doing an extremely excessive amt of coke to get by at this point so her parents actually did.... end up shipping her off to switzerland for rehabilitation. they didn’t tell anyone this tho n as far as ppl were/are aware she was doing charity work with habitat for humanity in trinidad. her parents literally........... hired ppl to take photos of things there n a social media team posted them to her instagram account jst. the most elaborate lie.... it’s a lot.

delilah jst pretty much went along w whatever they said at the facility bt didn’t absorb any of it too much.... she did get sober there bt it was vry much bc she had no other choice rather than a want to......... she even pretended to “find god” while she ws there n memorised bible lines to recite w a coolly detached smile. in her head she ws probably thinking abt hw her mandated therapist cld gladly eat shit and she’d be happy to watch. it was just like.... everyone there was RLY hideously overpaid bt did they actually Care abt their work or patients? debatable. wasn’t the most healing experience thru delilah’s eyes bt... maybe it’d work better if she’d actually opened her mind to it bt anyway...... <3 cornelius fudge voice: she’s back. the dark lord.....

PERSONALITY:

nw tht her history is out of the way i’ll leap like a flea off a shaggy dog’s back into personality! aesthetically she almost ALWAYS wears white/cream. reminds me of the woman in white frm sharp objects. rarely she’ll dabble in silver or gold or like..... vry pale green bt.... always muted tones. usually white or cream. big white sunhats. white sunglasses. white pussybow blouses w a little white skirt n a pearl barrette in her hair. she even smokes white sobranie cigs tht r imports like it’s a lot she’s truly committed to the aesthetic.... paired w like. classic patent mary janes.... she tends to flutter around the place like a silk moth. likes lace too. hs a very put together image n even demeanour like she’s very lithe n graceful n drifts like a ghost which kind of contrasts w... who she is at her core bt in the astor family it’s all abt appearances <3 the only deviation from this is she sometimes wears dark blue mascara once in a blue moon n if ppl comment on this she’s like. idk what ur talking abt? glides away like a ghost in a haunted mansion n is never seen again.

very perceptive. incredibly observant. yrs of early life media training n being born frm politicians means she’s an excellent liar. she knows ppl n knows what makes them tick bt she’ll only use this when necessary. she isn’t a terrible person bt she knows how to b Very mean n will equip this as a weapon shd a situation call fr it. also more prone to lashing out since her sister......... she hs sometimes played chess games socially fr kicks

dark n biting sense of humour. rather frank abt things. VERY ruthless when scorned bt she isn’t particularly?? emotive abt it??? her bf cheated on her once n when he told her she slapped him rly hard in front of sm ppl he knew n then jst walked away. blocked him on literally everything. removed him frm the face of the earth as far as she ws concerned. had him blacklisted frm every event n told ppl they’d be cut too if they continued to associate w him. goodbye sir <3 u are the weakest link <3 needless to say he regretted it <3

very loyal to u until she isn’t. finds it very easy to cut ties if need be. once her trust is broken it is gooooone baby goone.... the trust is Gone. selective in who she cares abt

vry cavalier abt sex. she doesn’t sleep around hugely i dnt think??? bt when she does it isn’t often tht emotionally invested she’ll jst out of the blue very nonchalantly blow out a wisp of smoke n b like. so u want to fuck me then? cool. proceeds to get up as if she’s walking to leave n then looks bk n is like what do ur legs not work? follow me. n leads them somewhere

nothing rly.... moves her particularly. she isn’t very animated. it’s like she jst finds the entire world thoroughly unimpressive. it’s difficult to stimulate excitement from her. it’s like that hugh laurie quote where he realised he had depression bc “boredom is not an appropriate response to exploding cars”.

has a pet swan bk at home she’s named lilith inspired by satan’s offspring. lilith bites ppl if they get close n is honestly an abomination of a bird. delilah finds her funny n throws her bits of croissants sometimes bt even she isn’t immune to her pecks. in some ways they’re similar...... hv a graceful surface appearance / aesthetic bt a darker attitude beneath the surface

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

exes: the ex bf tht cheated on her n she got blacklisted from 94872347 social events cld be a fun thing to explore..... delilah wld be EXTREMELY cold towards him n honestly want him dead. wouldn’t show any shred of caring abt him at all she’s very gd at stoning her emotions n keeping them inside. hasn’t cried since her sister died as an example of how..... withdrawn she is from confessing her innermost thoughts n desires. maybe an ex bf before tht that she rly didn’t take seriously at all..... typically she just isn’t interested/invested in romance she’s vry apathetic abt it all

party friends: those tht run in similar rich kid circles tht she would have smuggled off with at fancy events so they could let loose.......... ppl tht r completely her opposite who she finds interesting bc they represent everything she always wanted outside the oppression of her strict regiment family....... mutual bad influences tht are heavy into drugs n always enable each other...... u name it!

hook-ups: she doesn’t have a HUGE amt of these bt.... maybe a select handful.... some she wld have hooked up w once n never again n just been like >_> if they implied they shd as if it was preposterous n she was thoroughly over it.... some maybe she’d find interesting enough to extend beyond tht...... none she’d invest in if she cld help it altho? maybe someone as an exception to tht rule cld be fun

friends of her sister: (death tw) clara was universally well liked for being rly sweet n well intentioned n she attended yates only two yrs delilah’s senior so she might have some connections here still somehow??? cld be angsty to work with

i won’t lie i’m rly hungry as i write up these wcs so my brain’s going blank n i’m gna have to sprint to get some toast bt <3 roommates, enemies, competitive friendships, resentments, angst, chaos, drama, strife, u name it n i am dwn!!!! hits post n takes off galloping dwnstairs

[snarksandsarcasm]

World Trees and Akenash

It’s a big tree and a very fascinating one, too. It doesn’t have green leaves and it’s crown is small compared to the space its roots can inhabit. And it’s heart sits right there on the top, exposed to all sorts of elements, potentially, moving towards the sky as the tree grows. 

Through its tree veins flows Amber, a golden sticky sap with many qualities. It comes in raw liquid amber, a distilled form fit for human consumption and a dried form. 

Raw amber is acid and burns away human flesh (see young Aaron) and only elves and Styx/goblins can deal with that substance without any harm. 

Distilled Amber seems to be used as a stimulant. It isn’t quite described what it does but it creates substance addiction. We know that guards yearn for it their boredom and possible loneliness in the tower and that Styx complains about the shared minds/thoughts. So consumption of Amber allows all users to share their thoughts. Like a magical Twitter. To the user this is all but a fantasy, so they just think anything (and we know how strange, exciting and disturbing thoughts can be) without constraint and find it enjoyable that others can join in their thoughts. If they substance users would talk to their peers, they would probably find out that they have in all reality shared the same thoughts, but I am sure that is beyond their understanding. 

Dried Amber seems to be found widespread even after the Fall of Akenash. Another sign how big of a role the World Trees played in the environment of nature of this world in general. I imagine it to be a mix of a rubber and oil chalks. Brittle but also bendy. It’s like oil or rock minerals. Handling dried Amber doesn’t seem to cause any issues to humans. It can be brewed back into raw Amber and from that potentially into distilled Amber. Maybe it can be grated and further worked with to create explosives and to provide light and warmth.

The Tree seems to be a structure of twisted roots, stems and branches, intertwining and growing into a shape resembling a common tree. It is not quite as big as the Home Tree on Avatar, where it’s Navi people live in its giant structure, but certainly seems to have the same potential. Akenash’s tree is big enough for several such small levels, one of which is location for the final boss fight.

The roots are much larger than the rest of the tree. This may be the case for this particular World Tree as they ‘need’ to grow that long and large to find a place to take nutrients from. On the other hand, they don’t get anything from stone walls so what would those nutrients be in the first place? Certainly not water. Similarly the leaves don’t get any much light either, but how can we know the World Tree’s real potential if it’s looked up in a dark and dry place like this? Look at the initial cage structure to hold the tree in the picture. When we get to see the tree it has grown beyond and its roots reach into the lowest and darkest corners of the tower. In the roughly 40 years of Akenash’s lifetime. A big feat. Let this tree stand alone for 200 years and it will have outgrown the tower. Either way, it seems to live just fine without any much access to light or water. It does in fact deliver more to the outsides that it does consume in resources. It gives, it doesn’t take. The name ‘World Tree’ is a fair one. And if it’s not in such confinement it may just be a true and essential provider of life to all living beings.

The cocoons are marvelous. They are like large grapes growing from the roots here and there. Their cocoon wall is a see-through brittle substance but reusable. The human scientists refer to them as ‘embryos’ but I am not sure how accurate their understanding is. This would suggest elves grow from the Tree itself. But we also know elves where human once and we know how they reproduce (and SoD features both female and male elves). And looking how Styx was able to merely ‘rest’ in a cocoon and be ‘reborn’ … I see the cocoons more as rejuvenation and health pods. At any point any elve can rest in them to regain their health and retain their eternal life.

There are several World Trees but this particular one is the only one in human hands. One Akenash guard tells us as much. We know from OOAM that the humans occupy the centre part of the Iserian continent. In the North and West are the elves and dwarfs, the South is occupied by orcs, separated by a nice big wall. The East hasn’t been specified but I seem to imagine ocean for some reason. Styx left for an unspecified World Tree far away from where his Tribe lived. Upon finding himself changed he started his quest to undo the damage. Why not use the Heart of the Tree he studied? Why must he spend 200 years to ‘find’ the World Tree in Akenash? For some reason or other that previous World Tree wasn’t available to him anymore and he needed to locate another one with a functioning Heart. Musings for another time. Suffice to say, there ARE other trees, even more on the same continent, but they are not accessible to humans at this point.

It is not very easy to place all the races and determine their political positions. That would be musings for a different time. But we know that the humans don’t have access to any other World Tree, at least not unless they have good trade deals. So they protect their Tree and try to milk it as much as possible. Hence they built Akenash. It serves as a laboratory for Amber research and a factory for Amber resources.

Akenash was designed by Querberus, a human inventor. He refers to the tower as his masterpiece. It probably existed in his head for a long time before being used as a World Tree container and Amber factory. From my timeline attempts (I share them later) I figured that Akenash existed for about 40 years before falling. Orcs will build another tower in OOAM so I have little doubt they were also the main workforce for this one, too. Along with force-like magic in this world I can imagine such a massive structure was built in less time than we would think. Maybe a decade? Especially if Querberus is overseeing everything, knowing exactly what goes where, with the full support and resources provided by the human government for this project. Querberus went so far as even to design custom made, flying transport ships. Although, for that too, I am sure the inventor had some earlier prototypes at hand to finalize and perfect. From the final scene in MoS we can see the falling tower still sitting on a triangular patch of land, as if, some time prior, the whole tower lifted itself up from the ground. This may have been a desired result or an unexpected side-effect due to the powerful Tree housed inside the tower, we don’t know. That screenshot also suggest that the towers location was somewhere in a mountain range region.

We don’t know what else Querberus did before the tower of Akenash. But it seems his reputation is that of a Da Vinci even early on. He may have done many useful and practical inventions even before that at a younger age. He was a genius and it is a shame that after Akenash, he didn’t have the freedom to create many more projects. Shame on Aaron. (Side Note on the airships: They are designed with fire heating the air inside the balloon. I don’t think that is so effective, otherwise our Zeppelins would have functioned the same way …. but regardless of that, very little burning material is kept on the ship, unlike a whole coal wagon for early railway trains. I thus conclude that Amber might very well be used to keep the fire up one way or the other. I see it as a very essential, very powerful element full of energy in this world.)

We don’t get to see any females in the MoS game, for neither humans nor elves (whether the latter need them as such is also a question for another time). There are no family units or domestic areas. Therefore, the tower itself is a pure workplace, like an Off-Shore Oil rig. Shifts last for several months before one may return home. This applies to the humans and to the elves, although I can imagine the elves have less desire for intimacy with a partner than the humans do, when nothing really is private for the elves to begin with. But they may miss their original tribes and do their duty to this poor mistreated World Tree with honour and pride. 

The infrastructure of the tower is massive. They have a library, a giant incinerator (does this keep the tower afloat?) and a huge prison complex. I think the humans had prisoners work on the tower construction itself and then in the tower to deal with the dangerous substance Amber and needed that area to house them all. Like a big prison/concentration camp. Only guards and high-end officials have the choice to go and work in Akenash.

Being vulnerable humans they can’t completely do their work without the help of elves. Styx referred to the last time humans died trying to extract the Amber from the roots of the Tree and reminds Barimen how the World Tree belongs to the elves, as a race. They have agreed to tend to the Tree on behalf of the humans. Hence the need for the elf ambassador to ensure good working conditions and to make sure the deal made is being adhered to. This also explains the human hatred towards the elves, who are here out of necessity, not nice company. And the elves don’t like the humans abusing a World Tree. Room for tensions!

We don’t know what exact Amber products are being made in Akenash. We see many containers full of raw Amber everywhere but that’s it. Considering the size of Akenash, there might be space to create huge items such as military weapons, vital airship engine parts or just silly little things such as light matches using an application of ground Amber on their tip. I guess this is another good topic for another time. Amber products!

Considering how much presence I give Amber in this world, the Fall of Akenash must have been devastating for the humans. Their primary source of Amber gone. Trading will continue and dried Amber is still largely available, but it’s not as convenient as having your own World Tree. But it’s consequences on politics and economics is something for another time. Especially as Styx suggested in the Intro that the World Tree is a big secret of the humans, hence all the locks and guards. But such a thing cannot entirely be kept secret. I can see how the government will not disclose it’s exact size/production capabilities etc to their citizens or trade partners but I am certain enough people know what Akenash is for. Why it took Styx so long to find this place? Good question. But we may equally ask why Styx went through such a pointless game anyway, considering he is strong enough to just go ahead to the Heart grabbing it. Hm.

Some questions I haven’t got an answer to:

Tree Reproduction

Is the Heart of the Tree a seedling? Do the new seeds sit in the glowing leaves in the crown? Does the tree bloom? Bear fruits? If it’s a tree this big, who does the pollination? Giant bees? Would it not be possible, that after the Fall of Akenash from the remains of the Tree a new one will grow? I would say that generally new trees are rare. There are many spread throughout the world, but I’d wager you can count them on two hands. If they’d grow like apple trees there would hardly be the need for the humans to put so much effort into guarding the one Tree they have.

Other Mutations

Humans mutated into elves many eons before. An Orc can mutate himself into a goblin within 2 decades. Roabies are mutated giant critters. So what else can and will mutate? Fruit flies? Little lizards? We haven’t seen anything else. Direct contact with raw Amber causes deformation and deterioration of tissue so that might be Cause Number 1. Digestion of distilled Amber seems to affect and open up the mind only. So really anything that has direct contact with raw Amber might change, which in actuality is less than what we think. Who would choose to do that? Death of the creature seems more like than the deformation. 

[fluffypeachwriting]

Ten✧Shi makes their debut!

Everybody meet my idol oc group! I’m so excited to finally start making content for them, and I hope people like them! Under the read more are profiles and introductions to the group and members! Art by me!

Feel free to use the inbox to ask them questions! Give them a warm welcome!

Group Intro:

Hello everyone! We are Ten✧Shi! We are a group of four high school teachers in Japan and an idol group! This is our first group interview so please enjoy!

We chose the name Ten✧Shi because there are four (四/shi) of us and our kind students said we were like angels (天使/tenshi) of the idol world! The four pointed star in our name represents each of us coming together to be brighter, but it also represents a compass and our hopes of guiding people to their shiniest future!

For our debut we’ve gone with a more mature concept, taking the theme of angels and putting a modern spin on it!

We were previously school idols, formerly two duos known as ‘Savvy x Spiffy’ (featuring Natsuki and Ryu) and ‘FINEST♡’ (featuring Yui and Haru). Our school idol careers mainly consisted of a local rivalry, but a friendly one. Now we realise that our duo concepts were too different to compare fairly, which is why our competition ended in a stalemate during our third year. However we want to thank our fans, friends and family for supporting us back then.

Ten years on from our last performances we’re back as a quartet! We hope to inspire people around the world with our live shows, with our new concepts and songs. As adults in our late 20’s we want to show the world what we’ve learned since then and just how powerful we are!

We want to thank our students for pushing us to form a group like this, and due to their amazing support we couldn’t have entered the upcoming amateur adult idol tournament, designed for people like us!

Natsuki:

Profile

Height: 6’2 / 187cm

Birthday: July 19th

Star Sign: Cancer

Pronouns: He/him or They/Them

Image Colour: Mint Green

Self-Introduction

“Hi everybody! I’m Natsuki, the leader of Ten✧Shi! I didn’t think I could be a leader, but the other three were so insistent, I couldn’t resist their cute little faces! They said I’m the glue that keeps us together, but I don’t think I put special effort in, I just want to see everyone be the best they can be, Y’know? I just wanna take you all in and squeeze you tight! If I had all the time in the world I’d talk to each fan because you’re all so valuable to us!

I only became a trainee teacher in the past few years, but I’m sooo happy to see my old pals again! I love exploring lyrics in music, I am a Literature teacher after all!! I hope the songs I write in the future will inspire all of you to do your best! There’s so many different types of idol music, but I do love electro swing the most. It’s just the kind of music you can put on and dance around with! I’m so excited to dance with my friends again!

My charm point? Hmm… I don’t really think about that too much, but I’d say it’s that I’m willing to drop everything if my friends need me! I guess I also get compliments on my voice a lot. Of course I train hard as an idol, but I’ve been singing since I was tiny! Maybe that’s why I can’t sing so loudly… Oh you meant something physical? Ahaha… well, it’s a little embarrassing, but I overheard Ryu say I have “like, super toned abs. It’s so unfair.” Does that count? What?! No!! I’m wearing my work clothes I can’t just take it off!! I can’t let the students see me like this!!!”

Journalist’s Note: Due to popular demand, an exclusive shirtless photoshoot was taken shortly after the interview. Please view our Instagram page for a sneak preview.

Ryu:

Profile

Height: 5’11 / 180cm

Birthday: March 5th

Star Sign: Pisces

Pronouns: He/Him

Image Colour: Light Blue

Self-Introduction

“Make this quick, I don’t want to lose track of time and be late for- Oh you’re recording already? Fine. I’m Ryu. And I want to start this by making something clear. I’m not the same teenage boy I was last time I was on camera. The whole playboy persona isn’t gonna fly as an adult. I have a reputation to uphold. I’m a senior staff member of the school now, I can’t be seen dancing in shirts that are barely buttoned up anymore. And I’m especially not calling any of my fans ‘my kittens’. That shit’s embarrassing. Wait, I mean that it’s unacceptable. Can you edit that?

As I said, I’m high up in the school now, so I have a lot more to worry about than back then. And that also includes being part of a bigger group. Yeah, I love those guys, but you can’t deny they’re a handful. It’s kinda weird. In the old days I’d be the one running off and getting us into trouble, but now I’m… uhh… am I stuck-up to you? I really don’t wanna seem that way to students. Why are you laughing? Oi, what’s that face for?

Huh? Charm point? Who cares about that? Oh yeah, I’m the visual center. Okay, whatever. As an idol I like to focus on my body as a whole, but if I had to highlight an area I’d choose my legs. I’m not super tall, but my legs are kinda long, and sometimes Natsuki would latch onto them so they can’t be unattractive. The guy’s got some strange taste but I guess I trust his judgement. He is our leader, after all. Hm? When does he do that? I mean just like if we’re chillin before we go to bed. Yeah? Yeah, we live together. Wait!! Don’t cut the camera let me explain!”

Journalist’s Note: We didn’t cut the camera.

Yui:

Profile

Height: 5’8 / 172cm

Birthday: August 30th

Star Sign: Virgo

Pronouns: She/Her

Image Colour: Light Pink

Self-Introduction

“Hi hi! I’m Yui! I’m a PE teacher and the choreographer of the group! I love love love to dance, even without thinking about it! Dancing is such an amazing way to express yourself. If you’re alone and you need to get some energy out just move your body to the rhythm of your heart! Dancing as a group is so amazing too! Watching our lives shows back and seeing everyone do the moves I made is such an indescribable feeling!

I never thought I’d be a teacher, but I really love it! There’s a lot of hard work involved, but it’s all totally worth it. I know PE can put a lot of stress on students, so I don’t force anyone to do anything, and I try to make everything super fun and accessible! All of my students are so lovely, people really don’t get that kids are humans too, with such rich lives and stories to tell. Honestly I’d rather help out kids that need guidance than spend time with some of the grouches that teach here. EW!

My charm point…. Is my eyes! Connecting to our audience is so important, and I always focus on making the right expression, it’s just another way I can get across my feelings! People say my eyes are always full of life! I also love love love seeing students get inspired by my dances. When their eyes light up it’s like a whole new path has opened up in the world! I hope everyone supports us and we can all make new paths together! Love you!!!”

Journalist’s Note: Yui’s interview is an hour longer than the others. For the uncut version, please visit our site.

Haru:

Profile

Height: 5’5 / 165cm

Birthday: July 29th

Star Sign: Leo

Pronouns: He/Him

Image Colour: Yellow

Self-Introduction

“This is Haru. If I sound moody during this interview, blame the others for waking me up this early. This is earlier than I get up for work. But this isn’t about work so I shouldn’t complain. Hm? Yeah, I’m a maths teacher. I know it’s like the least interesting subject for most people. And I feel the same way. But when I was a kid all of my teachers were hell-bent on teaching their way or no way, so I chose to use my good grades to get a job here, and understand how these kids work as individuals so I can teach them in a way that they understand.

I’m the composer for the group. After high school I was in a rock band for a while. The split wasn’t in vain so it’s all good. And they’re fans of my idol stuff. Being able to write music helps out now, but I’ve still got a lot to learn! Music’s so great, it can lift your spirits or bring you down, which isn’t always for the best, but that really shows how powerful it is! Getting up on stage and feeling the adrenaline shoot through you is addicting and I feel so alive when everyone’s into the rhythm and you feel like the night could last forever... Looking back on some of our recorded performances, I notice how intense I get on stage. It’s a little weird to see myself so… energetic. Is it weird? No? Wait, people like it? You’re just saying that because I’m here. Hey, don’t show me comments on our debut MV, that’s unnecessary.

Charm point… The dark circles under my eyes don’t count even thought people point them out a lot, so I’d say my fang. I have a canine tooth that sticks out a bit, see? The others think it’s cute, but there’s nothing cute about me. What? My fans would say- No I don’t need to hear any of it. There’s no such thing as a charisma centre! I’m not cute and my face isn’t red!”

Journalist’s Note: As a school idol Haru won #1 ‘Cutest New Idol’ as voted by the public. As of the date of the interview, he holds the highest all-time number of votes in a single poll.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 4: The Death of Mysterio

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Last time we began our look at the life of Mysterio. In this post we’ll continue our retrospective, starting with the 1990s.

The 1990s: Helping Harry

We come now to an event that chronologically would’ve happened in the 1990s but was retroactively established in 2009.

During Brand New Day (ASM #581 specifically) we learned via retcon that Mysterio was responsible for faking the death of Mary Jane’s close friend, Harry Osborn. He did this on behalf of his Harry’s, father Norman.

I won’t recount the entire Harry Osborn Saga for you, but suffice it to say that Harry’s descent into madness was incredibly stressful for Mary Jane and Peter.

In spite of what Harry had become the couple were grief-stricken by his death.

MJ in particular was so affected by his death she requested Peter take a temporary break from hero work.

That same day Carnage began a killing spree alongside several other highly violent super villains. MJ’s grief over Harry coupled with the anxiety that Peter might meet a similar fate contributed to straining her and her marriage further, albeit briefly.

At the time Peter and MJ were living in an apartment owned by the Osborns. Following the Carnage crisis, Harry’s widow Liz Allan evicted the Parkers as a direct result of Harry’s death. Obviously this added to the Parkers’ distress.

In general Harry’s death left short and long-term wounds for MJ and people she loved and Mysterio was directly implicated in that. As he had done with Aunt May he had caused entirely unnecessary pain and grief out of pure selfishness, even if he was merely a ‘hired gun’ to that effect.

We never see MJ learn this information but given how one of her friends seemingly came back from the dead  it’s something she’d obviously want to know about and since she is so close to Peter and Harry it’s extremely unlikely they wouldn’t have told her.

I will admit that this example is a contentious one as it doesn’t really make sense for a loooooooot of reasons and the story doesn’t 100% confirm that Harry (and by extension Peter and anyone either of them might tell) knows  Mysterio was responsible.

So it could be argued that as far as Harry knows an unknown ‘someone’ covered his tracks (presumably his father) but he’s in the dark regarding Beck’s involvement.

However it is food for thought, yet another thing that would realistically cause MJ to hold Mysterio in lowly regard.

Duel with the Devil

Lets move away from Beck’s encounters with Spidey and towards those he had with Man Without Fear, Daredevil.

The first of these occurred in Daredevil #358, set shortly after the Onslaught crossover. In the wake of Onslaught’s attack and the presumed deaths of the Avengers and F4 Beck set up a fraudulent insurance scheme to con people out of their money.  That isn’t too relevant beyond it once again proving what an exploitative dickbag Mysterio is. More importantly though, it sets up his next encounter with DD.

I am of course referring to the ‘Guardian Devil’ story arc that ran through Daredevil volume 2 #1-8.

This arc is the absolute nadir of Mysterio’s ‘bad behaviour’.

Developing terminal illnesses and with just a year to live, Beck sought to go out with a bang. Initially he intended to make Spider-Man the centre of his plan but due to confusion (arising from Ben Reilly’s tenure as Spidey) he targeted Daredevil instead. Learning personal details about Daredevil’s life (including his secret identity) Beck built a plan designed to attack Matt Murdock’s sanity (evoking his scheme in ASM #24). In particular his plan hinged upon Murdock’s Catholic beliefs.

A key component of his plan was the abduction, drugging, artificial insemination and gas lighting of a Catholic teenager named Gwyneth.

Although her faith led Gwyneth to believe her pregnancy was divine in origin, she was understandably emotionally distraught after discovering herself pregnant and her pregnancy caused major strife with her parents. To ensure Gwyneth’s parents wouldn’t get the chance to investigate the matter, Beck hired some thugs to murder them. Witnessing her mother being beheaded  over the body  of her father Gwyneth fled with her baby, terrified as the thugs pursued her.

Out of desperation she was temporarily forced to sleep on the streets with her baby. It was at this point that Beck used his illusionary skills to trick her into seeing a ‘divine vision’ that led her to Matt Murdock. Passing her baby onto Matt she fled again hoping to lay low. However Mysterio’s men found and promptly murdered her. Her body was buried somewhere it wouldn’t be found.

Just to bottom line things so far, Mysterio knowingly:

Abducted

Drugged

Sexually assaulted

Orphaned

Traumatised

Hunted

Distressed

Manipulated

And murdered

A TEENAGED GIRL!

Just saying…

Anyway, there was more to Beck’s scheme than just Gwyneth.

He also murdered an innocent old man and for his fortune and impersonated him to enact the next part of his plan. This entailed slipping Murdock drugs that made him susceptible to Beck’s cover story. According to this story Gwyneth’s baby was in fact the literal anti-Christ and misfortune would befall Matt the longer he was around the child.

To help make his story more convincing Beck began targeting Matt’s loved ones.

He hired a drug-addicted actress named Lydia Mckenzie to seduce Matt’s best friend Foggy Nelson, who was already in a relationship. On Beck’s orders she also slipped Foggy a drug that caused him to perceive her as a demon and believe that he had pushed her out a window. In reality Beck ensured she died of an overdose, shoved her out the window himself and over all framed Foggy for murder.*

He also posed as a doctor and (I am dead serious right now) tricked Matt’s girlfriend Karen Page into believing she had AIDs. Remember this story was from the late 1990s so this was a BIG deal.

As a result of these machinations and the drug Beck slipped him, Daredevil genuinely tried to murder Gwyneth’s baby.

Mysterio later hired DD’s long-time nemesis (and known psychopathic assassin) Bullseye to abduct Lydia’s baby. He cared little about the inevitable collateral damage Bullseye caused in pursuit of his target. And by ‘collateral damage’ I mean the serious injuries to several people (including Matt’s mother, the nun Sister Margaret) and the murder of 11 people. Karen was among the casualties, traumatically dying in Matt’s arms.

Matt was so distraught over Karen’s death that he briefly contemplated suicide.

Angry and determined, Daredevil zeroed in on Beck’s hideout where Beck had a gauntlet prepared for him. One of the obstacles Murdock faced was an illusion of Karen stuck in Hell. Undoubtedly this was the single most spiteful and hurtful of the things Matt endured in Beck’s gauntlet.

When Daredevil and Mysterio finally come face to face, Beck revealed Gwyneth’s baby trapped in a soundproof chamber where the air was rapidly running out.

So…Mysterio is a-okay with seriously endangering and potentially murdering a baby.

…Again…Just saying…

Mysterio finally revealed his master plan to Daredevil, intending to push a broken Murdock into murdering him.

When DD refused Mysterio opted to emulate Kraven the Hunter and blow his own brains out; a fact that became public knowledge.**

Now sure, we the audience might be aware of all these awful things Beck did in ‘Guardian Devil’; but how much does MJ  know about them?

The potential answer is all of it.

The definite answer is more than enough of it.

Towards the start of Daredevil v2 #8 Peter is shown watching a news report about Mysterio’s death. The report acknowledges Mysterio committed suicide and that the bodies of his criminal crew had been found. It also refers to ‘a related story’, that of Foggy Nelson being freed from prison after being framed for Lydia’s death. This implies the news were aware Mysterio was implicated in Lydia’s death.

During this scene MJ is not only within earshot of most of the report, but she even consoles Peter that Mysterio was (in her own words) ‘a lunatic’. She acknowledges he was responsible for the deaths of ‘all those people’. She continues by saying Beck doesn’t deserve Peter’s ‘pity’ and that he should ‘not mourn for Mysterio’. She concludes by telling him to mourn someone ‘who deserves it’ instead.

Then they go to Karen Page’s funeral, which they were clearly preparing for during the news report.

Their attendance of the funeral and the scene leading into it heavily implies that Peter and MJ were aware that Mysterio’s was implicated in Karen’s murder.***

Later in the issue Spider-Man talks to Daredevil in order to fill in the blanks.

We do not know for sure if Spider-Man relayed any of this information to Mary Jane, but it’d be highly likely.

He typically confides in her and uses his conversations with her to process things. MJ herself often asks him to share if she sees something I bothering him.

In this case Peter would especially want to inform MJ of what happened and MJ would especially want to know.

This is because the incident entails one of Peter’s foes essentially manipulating and killing the lover of a fellow street level hero. In fact the only reason Daredevil was targeted at all was because Beck didn’t realise Peter was still around as the original Spider-Man. In other words Peter and MJ could very well have been in Matt and Karen’s shoes.

For the sake of future reference and general safety it’s totally unbelievable that Peter would not have told MJ about this at some point. After all, forewarned is forearmed and MJ has found herself targeted by people with powers of deception like Mysterio in the past, e.g. Venom and the Chameleon.****

I admit there is no hard proof that MJ knows all the details about Mysterio’s actions, but it’s rather unlikely that she wouldn’t if Peter did; it’s just common sense. Therefore we don’t need to see such a scene any more than we need to see the characters going to the bathroom or paying their taxes. It’s just such basic common sense we can presume it happened.

Even if you don’t think so, at the bear minimum Mary Jane definitely knows Mysterio is guilty of murder, accessory to murder (of someone in a similar relationship to herself), gas lighting and mental abuse. The result was that she personally regarded him as mentally unhinged and unworthy f sympathy.

If you only bear in mind ONE of the stories we’ve looked at so far, remember this one. In particular because the story is explicitly referenced in Amazing Mary Jane #1.

The 2000s: Rebirth of Berkhart

As far as those in charge of Marvel were concerned, Beck was genuinely dead and that was the status quo throughout the 2000s.

Nevertheless there are two very noteworthy events from MJ’s point of view that should be taken into account.

The first occurred in ASM v2 #7-8. In this story ‘Mysterio’ abducts the Parker family along with some of their friends and plugs them into a virtual reality machine because the Matrix was really popular back then. His intention was to deduce Spider-Man’s true identity by monitoring their interactions in the virtual world.

This virtual world happened to be shaped by the subconscious of Flash Thompson, meaning everyone was contorted to fit into his wish fulfilment fantasy. This included MJ’s friend Jill Stacy becoming a seemingly resurrected Gwen Stacy, MJ herself being gaga over Flash and wanting to marry him (the climax actually occurs at their wedding) and MJ’s husband being wheelchair bound.

Realistically the fantasy world (along with the realization they’d been abducted) would’ve obviously been upsetting for Mary Jane. Indeed it would’ve been upsetting for everyone else too (including fragile old Aunt May) even if it didn’t leave long-term scars. With no equivocation, this upset was directly ‘Mysterio’s’ fault.

I say Mysterio, but in actuality (and due to retcons) it was Beck’s ‘apprentice’ Danny Berkhart. However, Mary Jane couldn’t have known that (even the writers didn’t!), so from her point of view it would’ve seemed likely that Beck was responsible and merely faked his death once more during the ‘Guardian Devil’ arc.

Later during the ‘Mysterio Manifesto’ mini-series Spidey and Daredevil discovered the truth behind Berkhart’s scheme. This is tangentially important to bear in mind because of what we are going to look at next, namely Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man #12.

The specifics of this story aren’t all that relevant. All you need to know is that following Spidey publically unmasking Midtown High (where he worked as a science teacher) was besieged by three Mysterios. One was a new villain named Francis Klum, who had a vendetta against Spider-Man. Another was Berkhart who took issue with Klum’s claim to the Mysterio mantle. And the third was Beck himself, literally sent back from Hell.

After deducing an illusion of MJ as a fake Peter calls the genuine article to confirm her safety. During their conversation it’s revealed that MJ believes Mysterio to be dead.

First of all, this scene establishes that MJ was definitely aware Mysterio had targeted her husband (again!) and potentially endangered school children  in the process.

Second of all, from her point of view it’d seem likely that Beck would be behind this. I grant you that's a point that can be debated. However in her conversation with Peter he seems to imply to her that it is the original Mysterio.

Finally (and most importantly) MJ’s dialogue reveals that previously believed Beck was dead. Between ‘Guardian Devil’ and ‘Beck’s’ presence in ASM v2 #7-8 Mary Jane would have no reason to believe Beck hadn’t simply faked his death again. That is unless Peter told her otherwise.

Remember, Peter learned the truth in the ‘Mysterio Manifesto’ when MJ was believed dead, which occurred after  ASM v2 #8. This means that Peter must have informed her of this discovery after she was revealed as alive.

This is a point less about how bad of a person Beck is and more about proving that Peter keeps MJ abreast of noteworthy events in regards to his villains. Thus it is absolutely illogical to presume MJ wouldn’t similarly be in the know about most events Peter experiences pertaining to his villains; or at least the really noteworthy ones.

Let’s leave it there for now. Next time we will finish our coverage as we enter the 2010s.

*‘Fun’ fact. In addition to her close friend/ex-boyfriend Harry Osborn struggling with a drug addiction (which indirectly led to Gwen’s death) another of MJ’s friends was well acquainted with drugs.

Her name was Lorraine and she helped MJ learn the ropes when she was first getting into modelling. Unfortunately after overdosing in the Parker residence, MJ learned Lorraine had a major cocaine problem. MJ was so upset by this she asked Peter to sort out Lorraine’s dealer, only to be distraught when Lorraine simply went to someone worse and very nearly died as a result.

Lorraine survived and MJ was determined to help her through her problem.

Oh and MJ herself struggled for a little while to kick cigarettes.

All of which is to say Mary Jane is definitely going to take major issue with someone exploiting someone else’s drug addiction for their own ends. Which is exactly what Beck did with Lydia McKenzie.

Not to mention Lydia was someone in the exact same profession as Mary Jane, which might incline further ire from MJ.

**Remember this is not the first time Mysterio has been publically declared dead. It first occurred in ASM #141, which I discussed in the last instalment.

***Not to mention how it’d be common sense to ask how someone so young died if you are going to their funeral.

****And as food for thought she has literally armed herself with guns in the past. As such the idea she wouldn’t make a point of getting practical information for the sake of safety is highly unbelievable, even if she didn’t live in a city where super villains are commonplace.

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[mattpeplow]

1.

Tempting Tincas

The tiny red tip of the float sat motionless in the gentle sway of the still water, anchored to the bottom with two BB shots. The float may not be the correct colour to grant the best visibility. There may be slightly too little or too much of it showing from your added shot, but you can see it, and that’s all that matters. All you want as you sit there, transfixed with anticipation, is for that pimple of colour to disappear, which it surely will. The yearning and the craving for a take and a squirming fight is like a drug. You could easily describe most fisherman as addicts, or dreamers in need of their next fix. It is an extremely strong addiction made up of potential new records be it British, world or personal, or just the knowledge that you are doing everything right and the hard work and preparation has paid off. The pride in catching a beautiful trout on a fly that you created yourself. Or just the peace a solitude of not having to worry about the daily grind, your only concern when on the bank is whether it’s going to rain or not. I confess I am an addict and there is no amount of cold turkey that can cure me, and to be honest, I don’t want to be cured.

The sun was beating down and my polarised glasses cut through the water to show a few dark shadows lurking below, sifting through my grounbait for more substantial offerings. Today’s location is Mythe, a private club water controlled by The Birmingham Anglers Association (BAA). At around 600 meters long and as wide as the River Severn which runs along its one side it is one of my favourite venues. The hot sun of the warmer months causes a large amount of weed to grow here which means only half of the pegs are fishable at certain times on the year. The riverside bank is a jungle, imagine an untrodden terrain with thick overgrown bushes, steep slopes, ditches and barbed wire making their upmost effort to bar your progress. If you do venture this way though, you will probably end up with a few leaves and twigs in your hair and down your collar and maybe a rip in your favourite fishing t- shirt however you will find some of the most beautiful swims from which you can temp a few bites. A fellow angler and good friend of mine Rich has spent countless hours secateurs in hand carving pathways to the waters edge. Rich is a font of knowledge when it comes to Mythe and he often regales me with tales of his trips 30 years earlier when all the pegs where fishable, he is an in-depth encyclopaedia of every peg on the pool and has a story to tell for practically all of them.

Clear spots can be found in amongst the thick weed and most the pegs have a patch of lilies or a deep hole in which to place your bait. Bream are in abundance here with weights of over 100lb regularly being caught on the method or open-ended feeder. Large bags of fish are also caught on the pole or waggler however, this being my chosen method for the day. Carp are a rarity as they are not targeted very often, but the few photographs I have seen of these old warriors show beautiful dark oak coloured mirrors with apple slice scales and striking bronze commons. Rich also tells me of an orange bellied common which has evaded capture for a long time, he has sent me many videos of fish close to 30lb taking floating dog biscuits from one of his many walks around the pool fish spotting. I have also heard rumours of an elusive Catfish hiding somewhere amongst the gloomy depths but who knows, this pool seems to be a bit of a mystery and I don’t think anyone knows for certain what zoo creatures it could hold. Catching one of these legends is on my bucket list, however today I am here targeting Tench, one of my favourite species.

I have selected a peg with a thick blanket of weed framing a deep weed less hole with lilies at my feet and to my left. The water is crystal clear gradually gaining a green hue the further out you look out towards the centre of the lake. After laying a few balls of gound-bait and a scattering of sweetcorn next to the lilies I lowered my lobworm and tightened my line pulling my float to where red meets black. I am fishing the lift method; my float is held in place by two rubber stops and is set at between 5 and 10 inches over depth with shot on the bottom. I pinch my shots onto a small piece of braid threaded onto my line using a rig ring. This is also held in place with rubber stops. Doing this means there is no weaknesses in your set up, some split shots have sharp edges and squeezed directly onto your line can cut into it and cause breakages under pressure. When the Tench takes my bait and lifts the shot off the lake bed the float will rise up and lay flat, however it is suggested to strike before it reaches that point.

Though still water specimen hunting is predominantly based around bolt rigs and buzzers there is a period generally from mid-May where this more traditional method for catching Tench is particularly effective. The warmer temperatures and longer days cause the Tincas to move in to the margins in search of damsel fly nymphs and other immerging insects and fishing at such close quarters the bolt rig loses its impact and a float fished correctly will produce a lot more fish.

I hadn’t arrived early for today’s session. A few beers the night before in the local pub had cause me to oversleep slightly but I didn’t mind as it was summer with plenty of daylight ahead of me. I had got to the lake at around 9am and had chosen my peg and set up for half past. My first bight came 10 minutes later. It was slow and tentative. The float lifted a centimetre and settled again, half a second later it did the same and started creeping slowly to the left. I strike into a small greedy Perch half the length of my lobworm. Returned, rebaited and repositioned I waited once more.

The sun had decided to hide for a while behind a thick white cloud. Thankfully not the thick black kind as I hadn’t even considered bringing my umbrella, not in mid-June. I always travel quite light when I am not targeting Carp. A decent sized bream was my next piece of the action, around the 4lb mark. A slow short fight then like a wet flannel it floated to the surface and was dragged motionless towards the bank. A few of these in the keepnet wouldn’t be a bad result for the day but sadly it was not the prize I was after. Unlike some anglers I appreciate caching bream. A large shoal of bin lids in your swim can make for a great day, especially in match fishing where large weights can be obtained quickly once you have got them feeding, which doesn’t seem to take long, these fish are eating machines and will make short work of a large bed of bait.

By mid-day the temperature cooled a little; it was still warm but not the blistering heat of the past couple of days. A scattering of clouds and a slight breeze made it very comfortable with intermittent blasts of sunshine and shade. I think if the weather had been the same as earlier in the week the fishing would have been very hard. This was proved a few days later when a session with my dad was cut short due to only two bites between us in 5 hours of fishing in relentless heat, we were rewarded with 2 small Roach and two rather sunburnt faces.

Instead the bites were steady and with five perch in the keepnet and a few more bream I decided to mix it up a little and try a cocktail. A lobworm tail with two grains of corn on a size twelve hook. I sat watching the float twitch, bob, dip and sway for a about twenty minutes, there were a lot of small fish in the swim and I think my large bait was being picked up and dropped every couple of seconds by optimistic roach with mouths too small to take bait fully.

Finally, it lifted, this happened so quickly it was almost flat before I had chance to strike. Strike into weightless, air, weightless, nothing. “Bugger it”. It seems that I drifted into a daydream for a while easy to do when sat in the sunshine. I rebaited my hook and recast to the same spot and tightened up, determined not to lose concentration this time. I didn’t have to wait very long for another take and this time I didn’t miss it, my rod bent double and my 4lb line groaned and creaked painfully and my clutch hissed like and angry cat as the fish pushed itself into the weed in front of me. I managed to bully it back into open water and after a taxing battle I finally saw the olive-green shape and red eye break the surface. A few small final breaks for freedom and she gave in and slid into the web of my landing net. What a flawless specimen. A plump almond shaped body, black fins and a wide paintbrush like tale. Tipping the scales to 4lb 8oz I was pleased with my first Mythe Tench and what a beauty.

The next half an hour or so produced a few more Perch and Bream followed by another characteristic Tinca bite, my float raised out if the water and I lifted into another powerful creature. A lot of head shaking and dives to the weed almost confirmed to me this was another Tench. After a couple of minutes, the shaking stopped and I was left with a solid weight and no movement. The fish had hidden itself deep within the weed bed opposite. Doubtful, I lowered my rod pleading that it will release itself on its own with the line being slack. To my surprise and relief, I saw the line start to move. I tightened up to feel the relentless pulling once more. It seems the fishing gods are on my side today. The fish broke the surface and displayed itself for the first time. It was certainly a Tench but this one was unlike any I have caught previously. It had the typical bright red eyes and dark paddle like fins but its body was as black as coal. Securely in the net I admired its beauty and prepared the fish for its Photo shoot. What a beauty, and a lucky capture I think, that fish could have easily been lost. Returned safely it was time to pack up. I emptied my keepnet of 7 Bream and laid it out on the bank to dry, content with a successful day.

[vesperione]

It Started With A Whisper

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901156

Wordcount: 3,060

Relationship: Xander Lee/John McNamara

Tags: The Apotheosis, transition from non infected to infected, songfic, phone call, angst, crying, last words, flashback.

Full fic below 

A flash of golden hair and two hands slamming down on the table, the face of pure rage over the bustling in the room. “I said SILENCE!” He roared, and his agents seemed to get the idea. They silenced themselves and looked down to their table, except one, who was a physicist and remained looking up. The general didn’t stop. “We are in a situation where the spores could spread to become a pandemic worldwide, ending humanity as we know it! We know thanks to Lieutenant Lee that the origin of these mutating spores came from the meteor that crashed into The Starlight Theatre last night during the touring production of Mamma Mia! We know these spores in particular alter DNA to mimic someone in a musical, but once you get infected, you’re dead. We must not panic and remain safe!” He said and glared at each individual soldier, his eyes lingering on the Lieutenant’s face beside him. It was worried, sad, fearful. He looked away first, and the general took a breath.

“Any remaining survivors must be shot dead, once in the head, once in the heart. We don’t know who is infected. The plan after is that we incinerate the corpses of the dead, destroy any last spores with fire and blow the meteor to shreds. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices rang from around the table.

“I wish for Lieutenant Lee to stay behind and as for the rest of you? You are required to head straight to your stations and do not move once you are there! PEIP will be in lockdown once everyone is in the correct position. Dismissed.”

With that, the shuffle of chairs against faded carpet, the soldiers left, aside from two. The Lieutenant remained sitting down, his hands putting his head in their hold, while John, pull a chair beside him, placing his hand on his shoulder.

“Dear, a lot of people have died, and it is our duty to make a clean sweep of the island. We can’t allow any others to die today.”

“But if you go out there, there’s a higher possibility that you will die. You can’t go out; you won’t make it back.”

“Xander, listen.” John looked down to his husband, his hands placed in a firm clasp. “We are strong. We are McNamara’s.”

“No, you’re a McNamara, we got married illegally.”

“Regardless, you’re my husband, and you’re the strongest man I know. The McNamara’s are the strongest family in Hatchetfield, we’ll be fine.”

“No, we won’t. Things are indefinitely gonna change whether you make it back or not.” John looked to the Lieutenant, just in time to see a tear drop on to the glass table. He bit his lip and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll make it back.”

“Stop lying to yourself, John.” Xander said, his voice shaking as tears continued to fall down his face. “If you go, you’re gonna die. You know that, deep down.” He looked up to face his husband. “The agents we’ve already sent out have died, you know that, I know that, Ben knows that, and you’re gonna send yourself into the epicentre?”

“Xander, you know it’s not like that.” John looked at him, trying to reason, but he shook his head.

“Speaking from a Lieutenant’s point of view, if our general dies, the entire precinct goes down with it. I’m aware Colonel Schaffer is prepared to take over PEIP at any sudden chance you go, but PEIP will never be the same. It won’t be General McNamara’s precinct anymore. Sure, you’ll get your place on the PEIP Hall of Commemoration, but there’ll be a new leader, new rules.”

“I know but-“

“And as your husband, who the fuck am I going to come home to every night aside from the cats?” He looked up at John and took in the slight grey thunderbolt streaks that clashed with his stormy blue skies of irises, creating the picture-perfect storm on what could have been a blank canvas. It was a while before John broke his eyes away and stood up. “No, John! You tell me! You can’t run from this! You can’t run from the pain you’re gonna cause others if you step out that door!”

“It’s hard enough as it is for me to have to leave you, but as the general of this god-forsaken branch, it’s my duty to protect the remaining agents while they stay in the precinct and calculate a cure! You will be one of those to go into your lab and get working!”

“Yet I can’t go with you?!”

“You don’t have the current training!”

“Stop trying to fucking protect me, John! I’ve been here since 2007 and you treat me like a Private most of the time! I’m a 35-year-old Lieutenant with a degree in theoretical physics and I’m fully trained as a medic! I have the training, so why are you sacrificing your life instead of mine?!”

“Because if I have to watch you die, then what’s the point of trying to go on, Xander?! I’d be alive, yes, but I’d only be surviving! If I had to watch you die, then I wouldn’t be able to call myself a married man and the person who kept me alive wouldn’t be there to comfort me. I’d be down, I’d be so down, and I’d end up dead anyway! I’d prefer it if you stayed here, under my orders, and for you to stop being so damn stubborn with me!”

“Me? Stubborn?!” Xander laughed tearfully and looked at him. “You’re the stubborn one! You run from your problems instead of solving them, you bask in your insecurities instead of delving upon them, you-“ But he was cut off by the familiar feeling of John’s semi-chapped lips against his own. John’s hands were cupping his face, and John was standing on his toes to kiss him better. Xander couldn’t help but hold his waist as he kissed him back. He didn’t want to be the one to pull away, and he didn’t think John would want to be the person either, so he could feel the kiss deepening. Eventually, John’s face left his, but his forehead was pressed to the physicist’s. The soft thumb attached to John’s hand wiped away the bead of salt that threatened to roll down Xander’s face.

“Hey, baby,” John started, his eyes closed and his voice quiet. “I’ll be home by ten. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Xander said, a soft whisper in his voice as John moved away from his husband, not before he dropped his wedding and engagement rings in Xander’s fist. Before Xander could process it, he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

(a JEIP is a peip officiated jeep)

John started up the JEIP, hearing Xander’s music playing through the speaker. He immediately switched it off. He’d rather not be reminded of his husband as he accepted his fate.

His husband, his smart, incredible, the pure definition of ‘tall, dark and handsome,’ Xander James Lee. His mind was like no others, and John had hired him on the spot. They started dating within a year and got married two years after. They’d both cried when they’d gotten home that night. It had been illegal, and they both knew that, but they had each other. He was John’s new addiction, aside from the cigarettes, and Xander became the only thing he thought about ever. When Xander spoke, sometimes it sounded like what John was being given was fiction, but it was only because John’s mind was struggling to piece together the creative aspects of Xander and the complicated phrases he uttered. It didn’t matter. John was a sorry sucker for the smart, and he found that this kind of thing happened all the time. He was an easy target to gain a crush on someone, but he rarely acted upon it. If Xander hadn’t kissed John in his office to begin with, he wouldn’t be married to the smartest guy in town.

He shook his head. Thinking of Xander would make everyone worse. He started driving deeper into the centre of Hatchetfield to reach Hatchetfield High, the school where he suspected there’d be a few survivors, if any. The grey haze around him soon became a paler blue. He locked his doors and windows, but he feared it was too late.

It started with a whisper. It was only the smallest thing, but it was in the back of John’s mind, and he knew he was gone.

He doesn’t love you.

“ No, John, ignore it.”

And you don’t love him.

“ Of course you do, you’re married to him, don’t cave in.”

That was why you kissed her when you were drunk.

“John, you only kissed her when you were seventeen, it was internalised homophobia and we didn’t know Xander back then.”

But you liked the way she felt against your lips.

“No. I didn’t.”

And then she made your lips hurt.

“Shut up.” The voice was getting louder, and it was being sung to him.

But we can hear the chit chat, so take us to your love shack-

He hit the breaks and he jerked forward, panting at the memory. It was internalised homophobia, and nothing came out of it. He was left in silence until he heard the voice sing again.

Mama’s always gotta back track, when everybody talks back.

He growled and got out the car, lighting a cigarette. He was in Hatchetfield High, or near enough to it. He held his gun in his hand. He had to go and find any survivors and eliminate them.

--------------------------------------------------------

Eventually he did. He found a tall, flimsy man with brunette hair who looked a lot like Xander aside from the pale skin. John grabbed a chair as the man became conscious, groaning with pain. The voice had gone away, and the general was having an internal debate as to whether he was truly infected, or whether his mind was convincing him he was. Either way, he was beginning to get scared. He’d broken his promise to his husband, he’d lost the fight.

“Sorry for the knock in the head, son. What’s your name?”

“Uh, Paul…Matthews.” The guy said, and John smiled reassuringly.

“Good evening, Paul. My name is General John McNamara of the United States Military, special unit P-E-I-P, we call it PEIP.” He said as he took a seat, facing the taller man.

“PEIP? I’ve never heard of you guys.” It was clear he was confused, which was the correct tactic. No citizen outside of PEIP should know what the army base was. Even if a member had a husband or wife or kids who didn’t work there, they were strictly forbidden from knowing what PEIP was. If information got leaked, it would traumatise a lot of people. They had to be careful who they hired and had to ensure they remained to have top secrecy 24:7. It wasn’t fair on the innocent citizens for them to be placed in a situation like that, and immediately begin to panic. He’d watched it happen when his mentor, Wilbur Cross, was unintentionally too loud when discussing a case they had to work on. Needless to say, that woman lost her life that day before she could spread rumours.

John shook his head at the faint memory, quick to come up with a joke to make the situation more light-hearted and less threatening as he’d been taught during his training.

“And you never will, not a peep.” He grinned, but Paul’s fearful, brown eyes remained wide and dilated. John sighed and took another drag on the cigarette. “That was a joke, son.” Only then did the song begin to start up again.

Hey, honey, you could be my drug. You could be my new prescription.

John froze as Paul started asking questions about the scene. The song was back, and he was losing hope about himself. John answered the questions the best he could, explaining how they dealt with crises of a certain nature and such. Then he bought up the helicopter, and Paul perked up. When John stood up with Paul’s phone in his hand, he went to throw it until he heard the song again.

Too much could be an overdose, all this trash talk make me itchin’.

John swallowed and decided to only throw it a short distance, beginning to get scared. Him and Paul continued to make short conversation about his crush, Emma, and where to go. Once Paul ran out the building, John headed back over to the phone. The lock screen was nothing special, and he didn’t know the passcode, but he was able to swipe on to the emergency phone call section. He had Xander’s phone number memorised, so he typed it in, sitting against a mat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the song continued in his head.

Oh my, my. Everybody talks, everybody talks. Everybody talks, too much.  

John felt tears prick his eyes, grateful when he heard the static of the other end picking up.

“Xander Lee, theoretical physicist speaking, how may I help?”

“Hey, baby.” John said, unable to stop a smile from forming as it always did when he heard Xander’s voice.

“John! Shit! Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I swear.” That was a lie. The song was getting stronger and he was starting to feel a faint rhythm in his veins. He was getting scared. Maybe he wasn’t making it home…

“You sound panicked.”

“I’m ringing to ensure everything’s running smoothly back at HQ. Is it?”

“As smooth as it can be.” Xander’s sigh was heavy, pulling his entire weight down with him. John found himself sinking further down into the ground at the sound. “But I’m okay. I’m in my lab and I haven’t let anybody in. I’m quarantined.”

“Good.” John said, moving his beret more over his hair. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I understand. You’re doing what you have to do. You’re the general, I should have trusted you before-“

“Hey, sweetheart, don’t play the blame game now. It’s okay and I’ve forgiven you, understand?”

“Understood, John.”

“Good.” John said, clutching the edge of the mat as the beat began to become something similar to an annoying itch. He began to tap out the beat on to the carpet beside him with his other hand, trying to keep fighting the virus that consumed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And I can’t wait for you to come home, I know you’ll be able to do it.”

That seemed to trigger something inside of John, and something slipped out of his mouth that wasn’t supposed to. “I never thought I’d live to see the day, when everybody’s words got in the way.” He was still speaking, but the beat was as clear as day. Luckily, he heard Xander laugh over the phone. His soft laugh that was rare to hear. John was the only one who heard it lately.

“You’re still annoyed at me for trying to stop you from leaving earlier, aren’t you?” Another laugh followed. “I knew you would, I’m not surprised.”

John couldn’t hold back any longer. He had to tell Xander the truth. He was gone, and he was falling quicker. He had to say goodbye while he still could. “Hey sugar, show me all your love. All you’re giving me is friction.”

“John?” The question was meek and scared, the tone of the call immediately fading. John never used that pet name. Something was wrong. He knew John wouldn’t have rang otherwise.

“Hey, sugar, what you gotta say?” Another way to reveal John wasn’t himself anymore. He hardly abbreviated his words and was unable to keep himself fighting the infection. He felt weak, and he knew he was. He fought back for consciousness as tears formed more in his eyes. What was worse was Xander’s panicked voice.

“John, what’s going on?!” The frantic clicking of keys on the other end of the line signalled to John that Xander was trying to access John’s medical information stored in John’s watch. He took a breath. He had to admit to Xander the truth.

“I’m sorry, Xander. But it started with a whisper…” He was quiet himself, trying to prevent sobs.

“No! Don’t you dare, John! Don’t you dare!”

“And it felt like the first time I kissed you, when you made my lips hurt.”

“You are staying alive! I’m working on a cure, I nearly have it finished! I’ll get you back!”

“And suddenly, I could hear a conjoined group of voices in Hatchetfield all singing in one harmony…there was a lot of chit chat regarding a situation that turned into a song… and I’m sorry.”

“John! You’re lying!”

“Take me to your love shack.” He slipped up and heard a sob come from the other line, or maybe it was a scream. “I’m sorry, Xander, I’m trying to fight but it’s heard when everybody talks back, everybody talks, everybody talks-“

“John, keep fighting-“

“Everybody talks, everybody talks.”

“I’ve almost gotten the cure!”

“Everybody talks, everybody talks back….I’m sorry, I love you.”

“John, fucking fight!”

“Say it back, Xander! I love you!”

“I-I love you too!”

The phone hung up and John threw it until it smashed on the ground, letting the warmth fill his body as his own thoughts became clouded with the hives own.

“It started with a whisper, and that was when I kissed him.” A smirk formed on John’s face as he looked to the damaged glass he’d left on the floor. He pulled himself up, like a puppet controlled by a master. “Everybody talks, everybody talks back.” He took a final glance at the room before he walked in the same beat as the new song beginning to form. It was close enough to eleven o’clock at night. There was a guy with a moustache he didn’t recognise, but he was talking about the military and his American pride. John would have scoffed, but this wasn’t John. He drew his gun and shot him, grabbing the man’s shoulder. Xander didn’t exist to the hive. Xander was weak. Xander could be thrown away. John couldn’t. His smile was stained blue as he looked to the bleeding man.

“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but American’s should fit a mould…”

[pubtheatres1]

ONE GIANT LEAP Brockley Jack Theatre 2 – 27 July 2019 “That’s one small step for man…” Neil Armstrong INTERVIEW WITH WRITER & DIRECTOR OF ARROWS AND TRAPS THEATRE, ROSS MCGREGOR LPT: Hello Ross, We’re rather pleased to have another chat with you about your company, the award nominated Arrows & Traps but also wanted to grill you a little bit on your new writing, ONE GIANT LEAP. How long did it take you to write it? Hi there, how lovely to be asked. I have a somewhat unusual process in that I pitch the idea to the Jack, book the slot, design the artwork / poster, get the show on sale, start selling tickets and only then start writing the script. This is partly due to the quick turnaround of shows and my lack of time between, and also that we have to book these things quite far in advance as the Jack is a popular and sought-after space, but also because I have an issue with self-discipline, and so if I didn’t have a concrete deadline, I think I’d still be tinkering with Frankenstein, a show I wrote and produced in 2017. One Giant Leap is the first completely original piece that I’ve written without a source material, and it took me about two weeks to get onto paper. ONE GIANT LEAP is celebrating the fiftieth Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon Landing but it seems you have got your own spin on it. Could you tell us the story in nutshell? Yes absolutely. It’s a comic take on the greatest conspiracy in history. It centres on Edward Price, a producer of a failing 60’s sci-fi show called Moonsaber – which is basically a poor man’s Star Trek. Edward’s life has fallen into a rut, his wife has left him, he’s lost his house to the IRS, and Moonsaber has just been cancelled in its first season. All looks grim, until a representative to President Nixon comes to his door with a suitcase of money and a proposition. The Apollo 11 Moon Landing is four days away, but due to the moon being about a hundred degrees too hot for photographic film; they can get there, they just can’t film it. And what is a massive propaganda exercise without proof that you actually did it? So they ask Edward to fake the footage by any means possible, if he can do it, he can bring Moonsaber back to life for another season, if he fails – he loses everything. Where does the comedy come from? Mainly from the people that Edward employs in Moonsaber. They’re a ragtag bunch of actors, stage managers and technicians, and due to the show being cancelled – they’re falling apart at the seams – it’s down to Edward to keep it all together, to pull off the greatest lie in history, whilst trying to save his marriage, salvage his career, and keep the lies he’s telling intact. It’s a study of the creative industry, a satirical and loving homage to theatre. We’re not trying to say anything serious about whether the moon landing was or wasn’t real, but more provide a raucous night out at the theatre, and keep you laughing about it on the Overground home. Why is it important to offer a lighter comedy in theatre right now? I think, at times, theatre can take itself too seriously, and become too myopic about tackling the dark and dreadful issues that are affecting society – I’ve lost count of how many shows there are about Brexit playing right now – and whilst that’s great, and admirable - speaking for myself, after the last year I’m sick of the darkness, I’m bored by the constant stream of depressive updates about the rise of the Right, I can’t engage with it, the European elections gave a victory to nationalists, we gave a state visit to a racist, homelessness is at an all-time high, and we’re literally cooking the planet to death. There are sometimes when I just want a great night out and forget how scary the world seems right now – laughter is the best medicine – not as a retreat, but a reminder of the good in us, of the joy, of the light. As the company is repertory, you’ll be working with some actors you know very well. Did you have any of them in mind when you were writing the script? I certainly wrote two of the eight roles with long time company members Will Pinchin and Lucy Loannou in mind. And whilst yes, the roles are tailored to suit both of them - I did write the roles of Howard and Alchamy to stretch and challenge Will and Lucy, because I’d never seen them play characters like that. Will is nothing like Howard, and Lucy isn’t at all like Alchamy, but in way, they’re made for those roles, and for me, they’re perfect choices. I do like working with the same actors repeatedly, it is true, because you build up a short hand of technique and approach, but also you build up a trust. The actors in the company come in on day one, sort of knowing what to bring me, and what kind of vision I’ll probably have, since my style is something of a constant, but also I’m able to, as their director, cast them in roles that perhaps play against type, or test their flexibility and skillsets. I’m not an actor, but if I were, I’d hate to play the same roles every time, to only get the “intense one” or the “dopey one” or the “awkward one” – I’d want to think I could play anything that was thrown at me, and I think our rep system allows for experimentation and exploration. What has been the hardest part of the whole process to date? We’re only in the first week of rehearsal, so nothing too taxing thus far. Hands down, the hardest part of a comedy is when you’ve rehearsed it so much you no longer find it funny, at which point we need an audience. One Giant Leap hasn’t hit that point yet, obviously, but I think most comic work benefits from the response and energy an audience gives. Theatre can be electric when you have that to play off, but in terms of where we are – One Giant Leap’s greatest challenge is the analysing of why something is funny, and making sure it’s that way every time. It’s all about timing. For many years I laboured under the misapprehension that stand up comedy was just a funny person being funny with a microphone, that was until I saw Dylan Moran do the same set twice in the space of three weeks. He has a very casual, off the cuff, almost improvised way of performing, and I assumed that it was just his natural charisma and quick wit, until I saw the set the second time, only to find it was identical to the first. All the pauses, the stresses, the tangents, the quips, all of which was honed, polished and a work of precision. It was funny because he’d worked out the best way to get the laugh, every time, and that’s beyond art, it’s science, it’s music. Traditionally Arrows and Traps have produced a selection of brilliantly adapted classics, including Dracula, Frankenstein, Crime & Punishment and Anna Karenina. Have you got a soft spot for one of them? I loved the breathlessness and breadth of Anna Karenina, the precision and murk of Crime & Punishment, the thrill and gothicism of Dracula, and the humanity and pang of loss in Frankenstein. I think my favourite adaptation, if I had to pick one, is probably Frankenstein – but that’s purely subjective, and there was something about the biography of Mary Shelley, which we incorporated into the show, that really spoke to me – in the sense of a creator and a creation, a parent and child, a sinner and the terrible revenge. You’ve also got THE STRANGE CASE OF JEKYLL & HYDE coming up at Jack Studio in September. Your adaptations of the classics have been Arrows and Traps main focus, so does ONE GIANT LEAP herald a shift away from this? No, in fact because I know the next season of shows, One Giant Leap is perhaps the anomaly. Our work normally has a dark bent, we favour drama with funny lines as opposed to an out-and-out comedy. We’ve only ever done one full comedy before, The Gospel According To Philip back in 2016, so this is something of a return to that. I knew that the company was changing, and wanted to make a swansong to the current phase of work, I had originally planned for it to be TARO but that story ended so sadly, I wanted the last one to be lighter, more celebratory – there’s something inherently amusing about the various tropes you usually get in the theatre world, and so I thought a comedy would be a fitting homage to where we’ve come from, and a clean break to where we want to go next. The company has been going from strength to strength, what are the things of which you are most proud? Mainly, that we’re still going. Most theatre companies on the fringe don’t make it to their third show, we’re on our seventeenth. Part of that is sheer stubbornness, there have been points where any rational person would have thrown in the towel, but there was always something in me that would never bend, never break, never give up. It’s part ambition, part not wanting to fail, part wanting to make my father proud of me, part bloody-mindedness, part theatre-addiction. I think production-wise I’m most proud of The White Rose, to what that achieved, all the five star reviews and the Best Production Offie-nom, but of course I’m also very proud of the other twelve times we’ve been nominated for Off West End Awards, the relationship we’ve built with the Jack, the bond I have with my creative team and my casts, and just the fact that people seem to like the work. It’s still always funny to me when a reviewer calls us “critically-acclaimed” or “renowned rep company” – to me it’s just me, telling the stories I want to tell, with people I want to work with, you don’t always think about how it looks from the outside. I’m just producing the theatre I’d like to go and see. It was rumoured that you would be leaving fringe theatre for other careers, partly because of problems with funding. Was there are truth in that? Absolutely! And in a sense, this is still completely true. I am indeed done with fringe. I think I got to The White Rose in 2018 – where we got the Offie-Nom for Production, we had eight 5-star reviews, four 4 star reviews, we’d completely sold out, and done it the cheapest way possible, and we still didn’t break even. Which was very hard to take, and forced me to face the truth – you cannot hope to attain best practice ITC rates for your casts / creatives / yourself if you only do 15 shows in a 50 seater and you don’t have subsidising support from an arts grant scheme. It just isn’t possible. So I made the decision to stop producing work. Now obviously, with the shows being booked so far in advance, there were still three productions upcoming in the diary that I had to honour. But knowing I was quitting, and that this was the end for me, was too hard to bear - ultimately I had to face the fact that theatre is my life, and I could never leave it – so I had to find a way to make it work financially, not just for myself but for everyone else in the company, particularly the actors who are so often completely screwed over in fringe, and often end up working for nothing. Which is where the idea to change the model came from. Shrink the casts and sets to a more tourable model – 14 people down to 4 – and engage a tour booker to take the productions out of London to larger spaces that could widen the potential revenue. The Jack is our home, and we will always premiere all our shows there, but then we will take them into the provinces. The vision is still the same, adaptations of literary work, and biopics of iconic figures of history, but the remit and scale of the endeavour has changed. I don’t see it as an ending, just a moving from one phase into another. But yes, absolutely, the 8-10 handers, movement-heavy, ensemble, big music, huge shows – this stage in our trajectory is ending with One Giant Leap, and whilst I see why it has to end, a part of me is sad to see it go, because there was something so wonderful about doing a massive 15-hander like Three Sisters. Are you one of those people who is meticulously planning the future? Yes indeed, because really we have to plan ahead in order to book the shows with the venues. We’re doing One Giant Leap next month, and then move to Jeykll & Hyde in September, both at the Jack – and then Hyde goes on tour for about six months, with an opening of our next biopic Chaplin coming about halfway through the run in February. Because I’m overseeing contracts, and touring plans, and writing the scripts as well as casting each show and most likely directing each one, I need to know where we’ll be and when we’re doing it – I’m trying to build a book of shows, a repertoire that is constantly touring, moving forward, and ever-evolving – reaching more audiences, and engaging with new communities. In the meantime, we can’t wait to see ONE GIANT LEAP. Could you give us a little flavour of what’s to come? In terms of shows after One Giant Leap, we have Jekyll & Hyde - a dark, political thriller set in a post-Trump America – a gritty examination of the corruption of power, then Chaplin – which tells the story of the 20th Century’s most famous clown, documenting his path to becoming the iconic Little Tramp – and his meteoric rise from Victorian poverty to Hollywood fame. After that, we’re bringing back one of our most successful productions of 2017, Frankenstein, revisited and rewritten for a more tourable model, and then a biopic of Marilyn Monroe, called Making Marilyn, which covers the Norma Jean origin portion of the star’s life. After that – who knows? I’ve always wanted to tackle Madame Bovary – and I’d like to bring back TARO as it was one that I was particularly proud of in terms of its style and poetry. Finally, your shows at Brockley Jack are becoming legendary, it’s a great partnership. What are the things you’ve learnt about theatre whilst working at Brockley Jack? So much. The Jack has been a great place to develop my approach to stagecraft, and how to tell stories as clearly and engagingly as possible. Since we joined the Jack, we’ve built a vision of the style we want to have, and how we approach each difficulty, or tricky moment to stage, how our work with movement and text interconnect, and what we look for in our ensemble for each show. And, I guess, ultimately, I’ve being able to return to my training as a writer, and I’ve been so lucky to have so many opportunities to experiment with my writing, and get to think about how to tell a story and how to build each character. Playwriting is not something I’ve tried before, and I’ve loved delving into each of the worlds that the Jack has opened the door to. But I think most of all, I’ve been honoured by the patronage and support of Kate and Karl – and they’ve shown me the power of hard work, diligence, and care – if I ended up with anything like the talent and acumen they have, I’d be very happy. @June 2019 London Pub Theatres Magazine Ltd All Rights Reserved THIS SHOW HAS ENDED ONE GIANT LEAP Brockley Jack Theatre 2 – 27 July 2019 directed by Ross McGregor produced by Arrows & Traps Theatre Productions Box Office > Below: Rehearsals at Brockley Jack Studio "We’re not trying to say anything serious about whether the moon landing was or wasn’t real, but more provide a raucous night out at the theatre, and keep you laughing about it on the Overground home." "... speaking for myself, after the last year I’m sick of the darkness, I’m bored by the constant stream of depressive updates about the rise of the Right, I can’t engage with it, the European elections gave a victory to nationalists, we gave a state visit to a racist, homelessness is at an all-time high, and we’re literally cooking the planet to death." "Most theatre companies on the fringe don’t make it to their third show, we’re on our seventeenth. Part of that is sheer stubbornness, there have been points where any rational person would have thrown in the towel, but there was always something in me that would never bend, never break, never give up. It’s part ambition, part not wanting to fail, part wanting to make my father proud of me, part bloody-mindedness, part theatre-addiction." "... knowing I was quitting, and that this was the end for me, was too hard to bear - ultimately I had to face the fact that theatre is my life, and I could never leave it – so I had to find a way to make it work financially, not just for myself but for everyone else in the company, particularly the actors who are so often completely screwed over in fringe, and often end up working for nothing. Which is where the idea to change the model came from." " ... most of all, I’ve been honoured by the patronage and support of Kate and Karl (Jack Studio Theatre) – and they’ve shown me the power of hard work, diligence, and care – if I ended up with anything like the talent and acumen they have, I’d be very happy." In celebration of the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon Landing, Arrows & Traps Theatre bring their critically-acclaimed approach to a brand-new comedy set in the back streets of a Hollywood lot. One Giant Leap is about the power of having an impossible dream, realising it’s impossible, and then trying your hardest to fake it and hope no one notices.

[neverwatchedonepiece]

609-610: "Luffy Dies from Exposure?! The Spine Chilling Snow Woman Monet" and "Fists Collide! a Battle of the Two Vice Admirals!"

Surrounded by trash, unsure of location or direction. Too real, Luffy. Too real.

I feel like a broken record at the moment but Punk Hazard really is delivering.

Across 609 and 610, we had Law vs Vergo with a surprise interruption by Smoker. Caesar was the subject of unexpected character development. Even Luffy vs Monet had a twist, with Luffy falling into a trash compactor and meeting a tiny talking dragon.

I bet that’s Foxfire’s son. The little dragon had a kid’s voice.

I’m just glad the big dragon the Strawhats roasted wasn’t Momonosuke (@mrkashkiet, I am looking at you sternly. xD)

Law Just Cannot Quit Smoking

And does not want to.

The action picked up with Vergo hoofing it to the SAD Room. Speed lines ahoy!

Inside, Law slowly drew his sword in front of a vast tank of SAD Gas. Not sure what he was planning to do, but let’s not dwell on it, in case his plan was literally explosive.

Vergo appeared at the door. “I feel like my hand has been bitten by my own dog. This is too much even for a mischievous child. You were always too smart for your own good. People like you tend to die young.”

You know, I’m not keen on stoic villain types but I’ve got to admit that Vergo has some killer lines.

“It would be easiest to crush your heart but I won’t do that. I’ll torment you slowly as I please and warp your smart ass face with fear.”

Like I said, good lines.

He wailed on Law with grim purpose to the point I found myself shouting, “Come on, Law! ROOM YOURSELF OUT OF THERE!”  Law was not having a fun time. (Dare I say, he was SAD?)

But his instinct for shit-talking was irrepressible. “Are you guys frustrated because your scheme is coming crashing down? Is this thing that important to you?”

Well, yeah... If Caesar is *the only person* who can make whatever it is that Doflamingo wants, then SAD must be profitable. Profits before pals seems to be Doflamingo’s modus operandi, but I don’t get the feeling Law is all that surprised Vergo is trying to kill him.

Law did fight back. There was an attempt.  He tried to Room his heart back. But Vergo is fast and snatched Law’s heart from the air.

The worst thing, though? Vergo punched Law so hard he lost his hat. That is not cool. It must have riled Law enough for him to try his (awesome) Counter Shock attack. It was big, flashy and high voltage, but it only left Vergo lightly toasted.

Vergo must have decided to kill Law then because he said, “I have a message from Joker. He said, ‘What a shame.’”

Law was weirdly zen about the whole situation. “Oh, well. It didn’t work. I was pretty sure I could take my heart back from Caesar, but I didn’t expect you here, Vergo.”

The lack of -san honorific was the last straw for Vergo. He squeezed Law’s heart like a stress ball. Toei’s red filter descended. Soul-shredding pain was experienced. Law screamed a lot. As you would if your heart was being squeezed by a maniac.

Then, a shaft of light descended from the vaulted heavens.

Except not really because it was Smoker.

It’s almost the same thing.

Vergo was typically cool about the interruption. “I’m in the middle of something. Does it have to be now, Vice-Admiral Smoker?”

And I did a backflip. Yes. Excellent interruption. Great timing, Smoker! Now stop being so fixated on the Big Tanks That Go “Blort” and execute your glorious revenge!

Really, now I think about it, Vergo is almost as bad as Caesar. When Smoker called Vergo out on his deceit and told him not to tell the G5 Men as he was a father figure to them, Vergo said, “Don’t tell me you actually care about those guys? I’m a base commander. I can do whatever I want to my no-good subordinates.” Another one who treats other people as disposable pawns.

Unsurprisingly, Smoker and Vergo came to blows. Smoker seems to be having more luck than Law, but then Vergo does not have Smoker’s heart in a box. What I’d like to happen is Smoker retrieving Law’s heart and they tag-team Vergo into oblivion.

That sounded wrong. But you get what I mean.

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Rubbery Hope

How did Luffy end up in the Death Star’s trash compactor? 

His battle with a bird woman from Hoth went south. Literally.

And I cannot believe I am about to say this, but I kind of wish Luffy’s fight with Monet was a little bit longer. Her powers are great. Her self-awareness and cunning are too.

She maintained those ten layer kamakura walls without breaking a sweat. When Luffy smashed one layer, she wrapped another around her frozen prison without missing a beat. Luffy knew she was stalling for time and said he’d just break every layer quicker than she could replace them.

“I bet,” she said. Then swept up behind Luffy and, in an oddly flirty manner, whispered in his ear, “I don’t think I’ll win if I fight you, but the strongest isn’t always the winner in a fight.”

Then she grabbed him and wrapped him, literally, in winter’s embrace. 

That hypothermia power was quite cool (no pun intended). Paired with those desolate, snowy vistas and her eerily calm voice urging Luffy to let go, to sleep, relax and let it be, Monet’s Devil Fruit seems pretty strong to me.

But just as Luffy was about to pass out, Zoro’s voice - the very warning he yelled at Luffy a couple of episodes ago - cut through the darkness. “THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING OF THE NEW WORLD!”

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the blue filtered haki moments. When he sprang up and let loose that Jet Spear attack, I cheered.

Then he fell through the floor into a garbage chute and I laughed.

It was cool, though. He’s rubber. He’d bounce. And sure enough, it wasn’t long before he was raking through broken gadgets for food. At which point a tiny dragon spoke to him and that is where the story ended.

I am now 75% sure that tiny dragon is Momonosuke. It had a kid’s voice. Probably should be a higher percentage than that but I like to hedge my bets, haha.

Chopper Looks Like Every Harried Substitute Teacher Ever

While Luffy was readjusting to life in a trash compactor with a small talking dragon, Monet flapped away to tick off another box on the never ending to do list: securing the Addicted Experiment Kiddies.

Said kiddies were knocking lumps out of Chopper with their ferocious addict strength. He could not restrain them without hurting them. He tried to convince them not to eat the candy. “I know it’s hard but you have to endure it!”

The thing is, Chopper was dealing with a double helping of trouble here. Not only are they kids, who are naturally more self-centred due to their developing brains. They are also addicts who are so far down the rabbit hole of whatever drug Caesar was peddling they’ll do anything for a fix.

When Chopper’s rumble ball wore off, the kids trampled him and thundered straight for the Biscuit Room, where Mocha was waiting alone.

Luckily, he was picked up by Nami, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Brook and Foxfire. (Do not remember Brownbeard hanging around. Did he leave or did he just not have any lines?) 

Robin tried to restrain the kids. That was interesting for two reasons: one, I didn’t know Robin could feel damage sustained by her extra hands, and two, she asked Usopp and Brook to try and find a pair of Sea Prism Stone cuffs because Luffy had asked her to. (I bet his plan is to cuff Caesar!)

The kids charged Mocha, who tried to tell them the candy was evil! Then Monet whirled into the room on a frosty zephyr. (The best part of this entrance was when Usopp shouted: “I TOLD YOU THERE WAS A BIRD WOMAN!” He was finally vindicated.) 

Yay, thought Mocha. It’s Monet-san. She’s lovely!

Nooooope. Monet told her, in a sweet, ever-so-reasonable voice that it wasn’t nice to keep all the candy for herself. Mocha should share it with the others, like always. Mocha’s little face when she sensed betrayal was just heart-wrenching. “Why?” she whispered.

Because Monet is a nasty piece of work just like Caesar? Just a thought.

Not sure what’s going to happen here. There are a *lot* of Strawhats in the room, so I’m guessing Monet will be defeated by them. Then they’ll push through, deliver the cuffs and - BAM - we have one angry, kidnapped scientist. 

Sanji Acquires Unexpected Fans

This was a short scene but the fact that Sanji has a cadre of devoted fans in the G5 is hilarious. Yeah, he claims he doesn’t want their approval. And he probably doesn’t.

But Sanji cannot stop himself running back to save the poor saps who can be saved.

This is the Sanji I like: surly on the outside with a golden heart on the inside. More, please!

And the Academy Award for Best Actor goes to . . .

CAESAR CLOWN!

Seriously.

The yarns this guy can spin could crush the GDP of a small textile-dependent country.

Caesar should run for office somewhere. Then he could appoint himself head of the science department.

For that is exactly what has been bugging him for years, it seems. He wants Vegapunk’s job.

Well... maybe not the job. (He’s getting by just fine thanks to pirates. A Government job would ruin that). It’s the fame and kudos. That’s what he’s after.

Plus he has a weird goal: to achieve world peace by obliterating all sources of conflict - collateral damage be damned. Unless he’s lying about that. Given his oscar-winning performance, that would not surprise me.

The action picked up with Caesar caesaring through a pipe and landing outside the Secret Room (I laughed when I realised everyone on Punk Hazard literally calls it the Secret Room).

He was bitching about having to enter the room because it was Vegapunk’s old office. Still, he claimed it was the only place where he could “pull it off”. (I am unsure why he had to go to Vegapunk’s old office just to close some doors, but I’ll chalk it up to plot and say no more.)

He promised to make Luffy, the Strawhats, G5 and Trafalgar Law pay for ruining his plan. It was all their fault! The experiment could have been a great show - everything perfect and beautiful and befitting of the world’s greatest scientist (Vegapunk says hi!) But they screwed it up. He couldn’t let the Strawhats do as they liked. They’d pushed it a little too far and he has Joker on his back now.

He ordered a minion to close the gates to Buildings C and D. This would lure all survivors into one narrow room. His plan? Trap them in the bottleneck and pump the room full of his poison gas through the air vents. He would broadcast it as a snuff movie for the brokers. That would show them what he was really made of!

But the minions hang on his every word and they caught one small discrepancy.

“Um... did you say that *you* had created the poison gas, Master?”

Caesar’s haughty reply was, “Yes, I did.”

“But it’s like Vegapunk’s gas. It freaks us out.” Understandably, the minions probably have ptsd from four years ago.

The moment when Caesar realised he’d let his ego run away with him and opened his big mouth was glorious. How could he spin this? How? The animators did a great job here. You could see the evil, conniving cogs turning in his mind. 

Then he broke out his Oscar winning performance. 

“This is . . . an avenging battle of science. My people! That day, I tried to stop the mad scientist, Vegapunk. No! If such a weapon exploded, what would happen to the people on the island?” Caesar even threw in a melodramatic “YAMEROOOOO, VEGAPUNK!” for some extra emotional sparkle.

“But the accident happened. And he still lords if over us as the head of the science department of the Marines. and he’s considered the world’s greatest scientist. I cannot tolerate it! He’s the cruel man who hurt you all! Do you think it’s right that people still call him the number one scientist? That’s why I want to prove them all wrong. I didn’t want to make a weapon of mass destruction! But I want to show them that there is a greater scientist here. That I am the greatest scientist in the world! When the Marines acknowledge it and when I become head of the science department, my dream will come true. I can use my scientific knowledge to bring peace to the world!”

I honestly had to stop myself giving Caesar a standing ovation. What a performance that was.

You know, it’s weird. Every lie Caesar told there has a basis in truth. That’s the most dangerous liar right there because the lies they tell are more believable. Does the Gas-Gas Fruit confer gaslighting powers too? Because Caesar is a hellishly efficient manipulator.

And while Caesar was congratulating himself, a flashback happened!

Caesar is Prime Material for /r/IAmVerySmart

Caesar with a bob was weird. I’m guessing when he moved to Punk Hazard, there was a lack of stylists, so he just grew his hair out. That hair you see right now? That is four years of growth.

At any rate, Caesar was doing something a bit more important back in Vegapunk’s lab. He was debating morality with some other scientists. They begged him to stop his experiment. If it exploded, it would kill everyone on the island. 

Caesar was typically receptive to criticism. “STFU, boneheads! Where do you think you are? This is a Marine research facility. They want to kill as many pirates as the can. What they need is a weapon that will do it for them.”

“But they don’t want one that will also kill civilians!”

Caesar’s rebuttal? “It’s called collateral damage! If we blow away everything, we can bring peace to the world.” (Does he genuinely believe that? That’s a properly depressing view of the world he holds there, if true.)

“You’re so...”

Caesar had a, “I’m gonna stop you right there” moment. They wanted to say he was cruel? What a joke. They were using prisoners as guinea pigs as if they were trash. What was the difference? (Fair point, Caesar.) Moreover, Admiral Sengoku was too soft, but Akainu, if he was in charge, *he* would want a weapon Caesar made. (Also interesting. I hope Caesar never decides to change sides again. He would be dangerous in Akainu’s hands.)

He went off on one about how Vegapunk had failed to turn people into giants again. Caesar knows you can’t turn people into giants in a short period of time unless you use magic, so had suggested Vegapunk just kidnap some kids and feed them drugs until something worked. What a lovely idea, Caesar! xD

The flash forward revealed Caesar’s “William Birkin Moment”.

Just as he made a significant discovery, Marines burst in and cuffed him with sea prism stone. Vegapunk himself came to see off his old colleague. I was ONE HUNDRED PERCENT HYPED for about half a second. But there was no face. 

Blue balled. Again. xD

Caesar was summarily dismissed from the Science Department. “Your eccentric behaviour is intolerable and I cannot protect you anymore, Caesar.”

Interesting that what the rest of the scientists did was viewed as fine and dandy, but Caesar taking it a step further was regarded as “eccentric”. First off, eccentric is a gross understatement. Secondly, what they’re doing is pretty evil too. Caesar is just overtly, unashamedly amoral. They hide it better.

Suffering such a humiliation, Caesar had his “SCREW YOU!” moment and pushed the big red button. Punk Hazard went up in a Mighty Kaboom-Boom Cloud. 

Still wondering how they all survived that, but I will chalk it up to plot and say no more.

Of course, after Caesar’s theatrics, his minions fell over themselves to apologise. Sorry, Master! You are the saviour, after all.

“Thank you... thank you all,” Caesar simpered, while inside he called them unintelligent fools. So easily manipulated. Dumb as bricks.

This guy needs taking down several pegs. Maybe an entire cloakroom rack.

Luffy, please oblige asap.

Caesar tells a rip-roaring, thigh-slapper of a yo momma joke. 

(No one laughed.)