#I like to think this is her 'all dressed up for the wizard convention' look. DIVORCED WIZARD FORMALWEAR

[wouldntyoulichentoknow]

inimitable mage scholar Ulfsild CANONIZED. wizard hat to celebrate 🎉🎉🎉!!!!!

[saintsenara]

I am delighted reading the answers to the ship name game. I am sorry for the number of questions that I have filled in your inbox with. What do you think about Molly/Narcissa, Fleur/Ginny, Hermione/Luna (you once mentioned that they both have a similar stubborness and can quite rigid belief systems and intellectual inflexibility and Sybil/Rita- love the idea of a office romance where Sybil does the astrology column of a pop culture spinoff of The Prophet

thank you so much for the ask, pal - and i love receiving these, so please don't apologise!

narcissa malfoy/molly weasley

so, i genuinely back this one - like lucius and arthur and ron and draco, narcissa and molly are narrative mirrors, and narrative mirror pairings always slap.

above all, one key area of their mirroring is that they're simultaneously central to their family's arc across the canon series, and yet also excluded from their family more generally by the narrative.

molly, for example, lacks the daring streak which characterises the rest of her family who appear in the main cast of the series, is much more interested in social convention, and is estranged from the child with whom she is most aligned [percy] for much of the series; she isn't a quidditch fan [there's no conceivable reason why she wouldn't come to the world cup if she was]; she doesn't seem to have any friends or connections that she doesn't also share with arthur [whereas he seems to be genuinely popular among his colleagues at the ministry]; and she is almost never seen outside of a domestic context - and when she is, it's usually while shopping or doing other activities which are adjacent to the domestic sphere.

narcissa gets less development because she's a more minor character, but she clearly lacks the rebellious streak which both bellatrix and andromeda must possess in order to defy the wizarding world's gendered conventions so openly; she's not a death eater, unlike her husband and son, and is therefore excluded from both lucius and draco's main social circle; she doesn't appear to have any friends outside of her family that she doesn't know through lucius; and she too is found in canon primarily in a domestic or domestic-adjacent context.

i think that both narcissa and molly must, therefore, be quite lonely, and i think that something really quite interesting can be done with that - especially in a post-war setting, with narcissa trying to come to terms with the fact that the defiance of voldemort she set in motion ended with molly killing her sister.

fleur delacour/ginny weasley

ginny spending most of half-blood prince acting up about how fleur thinks she's so hot and so interesting is definitely giving bisexual awakening.

fleur letting ginny wear a really low-cut dress at her wedding - and not being bothered in the slightest that this results in ginny's rack being given a shoutout to the entire congregation by muriel - is also giving bisexual and interested.

i back it.

hermione granger/luna lovegood

flopping - she'd never stop going on about that damn erumpet ["luna it is not a snorcack!"] horn.

rita skeeter/sybill trelawney

i really, really back this one as something genuine.

both rita and sybill’s lives are based in pure artifice. their careers hang on an ability to know things - sybill to predict the future, rita to be informed about the top news stories of the day - which neither of them actually possess. sybill is a fraud. rita is a hack.

and that must be very lonely. which means that meeting someone else who shares that experience…

plus, both of them are characters who fall foul of jkr’s loathing of women whose appearance and demeanour deviates from her extremelynarrow criteria for acceptable femininity - sybill because she looks spacey and gaudy, rita because she decks herself out in glamorous frivolities - her nails! her handbags! - which can’t mask the fact that she looks ‘manly’ […!]. jkr’s opinions on gender can get fucked, and the women she spends the series obviously loathing getting fucked by each other is one way to achieve this.

[sweetfirebird]

okay I stewed on it and I know it's a Stephen King miniseries from the 90s so who cares but having watched two King miniseries from the 90s this week (and who once watched The Mist as well), they have the same flaws but in Storm of the Century, the flaws are especially obvious and I need rant about it on the internet for a second. This is a mess of thoughts and I don't care.

I am going to ignore how the danger of the storm changed from moment to moment depending on what was convenient for the action. And I am also going to assume that a lot of the costuming and makeup decisions were a matter of budget and not character hints or anything. I know this production was not that deep. I know that.

That said (whew boy), this story does that thing that some King stories do where they are structured like a mystery (in fact, SotC and Rose Red are both set up like that, and a closed circle mystery at that). So there is horror but the mystery conventions are front and center--until the end, when King abandons them, and you, completely. Something that probably worked more in a 90s tv miniseries format where it was unlikely that people would rewatch it, or watch it all at once with other miniseries, so the issues would be less glaring.

Anyway. So because it's set up like a mystery, your brain is looking for clues like it's a mystery--and you are apparently given clues. Which is why the endings feel especially stupid and meaningless because all indications were that the ending and big reveal was going to matter!!

But then, JJ Abrams surprise! the endings do not matter and none of the clues mattered or were even really clues! And you feel stupid for thinking they were!! You fucking idiot, expecting competent writing!

This is slightly less the case with Rose Red, but it's still evident there. All the showy bits, all the references, all the details that seemed relevant because the story focused on them? Just window dressing to make the story seem deeper and/or cooler than it actually was.

Let's talk SotC because this set up several possibilities for the identity of the big bad and then it never really answered them.

Since part of his identity was his undefined threat hanging over the townspeople for most of the series, one would assume his threat was meant as a clue, right? And that all conversations about him and his threat were then also clues, right?

Wrong. None of it was relevant. He is just a bad demon guy or something and incidentally implies Christian Hell might be real but don't worry about it. Also he dresses like a wizard. A stupid wizard. Now, again, because every single story element has been about this guy and his motives, you would think this identity issue would be resolved. But no.

And then we get into the things specifically mentioned regarding this guy and how actual good storytelling would have used them better.

For example

In the beginning, the camera lingers on a sign for a daycare that is called "Wee Folk" so oh okay, are the fae involved?

no. red herring in the mystery that King had no interest in resolving. Because it's not a mystery it's a horror story. It's just written like a mystery until the end so shut up.

Then we get a Biblical story about Legion, so oh ok, is this about that?

Never mentioned again don't worry about it.

Hell is mentioned and he's called the Devil more than once, though he says he isn't. (Though the Devil would lie, I suppose, but would he dress like a stupid wizard?)

Roanoke gets mentioned, several times, in the corniest aspect of the whole thing, and is also never resolved but I guess the implication is that the people of Roanoke chose not to listen to the weird random bad guy who showed up there. And this is just a thing he does sometimes every few hundred years even though from what else he says, it sounds like there is a time limit, and also why wouldn't he try it elsewhere in the meantime? Fuck you for asking! This isn't a mystery, it's a horror! Just because it's structured like a mystery doesn't mean anything! Pay no attention to the man behind the c--

And then, and this one is the most egregious to me because it shows how little thought went into this story--they mention the Book of Job. I'm not going to explain Job here but that is.... not a book that I think should be brought up lightly if you are exploring why bad things happen to good people and/or asking where god is during dark times. (you heard me, season two of Good Omens, I said what I said). But if you are going to bring it up in a story like this... then you'd better fucking address it. It's not just a "clue" in the mystery that never was, it's fucking thematically relevant!!! Writing 101! What the actual fuck, Stephen King?

idk what Methodists in small-town Maine think of the Book of Job or the Old Testament in general, but how this book is perceived and interpreted by Methodists/Christians feels like an issue worth exploring in a story about god leaving you to suffer and taking your children. What would you expect the "good" Methodists on this island to think and do.

The Book of Job discussion also again sets up the idea that this entire thing is part of a divine plan or test. But I guess it wasn't!!! What kind of idiot would think it mattered just because they kept mentioning it! And showing shots of the small town buildings with quotes about god and faith on them!!!!???? You must be really stupid if you think any of that was important! Scary monster man! Wizard clothes! Sharp teeth! grrr!

Okay. OKAY and then, related to that subject. Outside of this movie, in like, faith circles, there is talk about possessions and angelic or demonic visitations are about how the possession (or visitation) is not really about the person it's happening to. It's about someone else. Or several others. It's about showing them something or testing them. And on this fucking island in this story, we are shown one person who is consistently mentioned as trying to be good, and to see the good in others. Despite all the crap around him. When horrible secrets are exposed, his worst secret is cheating on a test one time for something that wasn't even his major.

So clearly that is important too, right? This is maybe some Old Testament-esque test for the town, or for him, or the bad stupid wizard demon man is here to torment and test this guy specifically, right?

no.

he's just here to be evil, and dress like a wizard, and then leave, the end. and the good guy is like a little sad at the end but moves and gets a new job and I guess that is supposed to be some sort of Job thing? But then also no and everyone mostly on, the end.

And it was corny. Did I mention it was corny? Colm Feore tried though. The second they mentioned Roanoke, I groaned out loud. The constant CONSTANT use of children's rhymes to indicate scary things will happen? the nonsense couplets about sin???? implying he isn't evil maybe but instead a more Old Testament way of punishing sinners? Just there to sound cool. Ultimately meaningless. Fuck you again.

Oh and it definitely felt stretched. It got repetitive real fast, which--surprise! also felt like it was on purpose at first because the villain said outright, "Hell is repetition."

But it wasn't on purpose. It was just padding the run time.

I will stop now. This isn't even really a review. I just was not expecting to say, "This is so fucking stupid" out loud as many times as I did while watching this.

[theriu]

Presenting the Mythic Expert (M.E.) from my Mythical How To Guides!

I found an old pose in my sketchbook from an earlier attempt to draw her, so I decided to fill it out with her adventuring garb. Then I did something I’ve literally NEVER done before: designing alternate outfits! Now let’s have some fun and break these down :D

On The Job

This is her super geared-up adventuring garb; she dresses like this for official gigs or when she knows she’ll be dealing with dangerous mythics. It tends to get a bit warm, but better warm than dead! (And an extra jacket tied around her waist for the even colder regions! Or in case she needs to throw it over somebody’s head.)

I wanted to give her a mix of modern clothes and classic adventuring gear to represent the mix of classic myths/folklore and the modern-day setting. She has a few magic tools, like some health potions, a few fae artifacts, etc. but mostly normal human gear. She carries misc. useful items in her backpack and pockets or just tied onto things.

Despite dealing with dangerous mythics, she dislikes fighting, preferring diplomacy and trickery. She’s not particularly violent regardless, but it’s also illegal (except in defense of self or others from imminent peril) to slay mythics. (You can do citizen’s arrests, though.) She is handy with a short sword and her staff, however! The wizard gem probably has a stun effect on contact. And she can run pretty dang fast.

Casual Warm

Here’s an everyday summer outfit! She typically wears normal-looking sneakers and clothes comfortable for moving quickly. However, an M.E. is always prepared, so she keeps misc. handy items on her in the fanny pack, and bracelets (paracord, magic detection, slingshot elastic, iron), a hidden necklace (emergency health potion), mirrored sunglasses, etc. When you gain a reputation as a Mythic Expert (even a good one), it can lead to awkward encounters. Or inserting yourself into awkward encounters because they’re less awkward for you than for other people.

Casual Cool

Here we see the adventurer actually wearing her jacket! I decided she tries to have eye protection on her at all times, particularly mirrored lenses because gorgons and basilisks and hypnotizing mythics. Her purse is based on a real satchel I have where the strap is a belt a convention artist decorated with real glass vials holding tiny flowers! :D So basically, she always has eye protection, close-toed shoes, and a carrying bag of some kind, plus a few handy doodads hidden about her person. :D

I’d probably also need to make a more civil uniform for her to wear in situations like the Dryad Guide. But yeah, there we go! Hope you enjoyed that foray into my Mythic Expert, who is definitely based on me in style if not in actual skillset XD (I WISH I were that athletic and quick-thinking IRL.)

[sunlightandsuffering]

Manifesting gothkasa/normie Eren shenanigans (and smut) 🙏🙏. Mikasa drags Eren who is basically just a dumb jock with the body of a Greek god to some dungeons and dragons convention and of course she’s in full costume for it (some revealing witch outfit, etc.) and Eren is out here fighting for his life against a bunch of thirsty nerds in mage outfits trying to hit on her. Like biceps bulging just picking them up by their heads and saying “don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her you dumb wizard” but it’s always while her back is turned because she’s so invested in the game and clueless to Eren’s raging jealousy/protectiveness 😂. So naturally afterwards he’s ordering her into the bedroom and makes her wear the witch outfit to further “role play”

HAD THIS ASK FOR A WHILE BUT I'M ON IT! ugh my new years resolution is gonna be to answer my asks in a more timely manner lol

BUT LETS MAKE IT GLOOMIKASA AND PREPPY BOY EREN!!! I think gloomikasa is perfect for this!!

"Eren stop being so sullen that's not your character! You're supposed to be happy!"

Eren stares at her blankly, making absolutely no move to change his expression, he's fucking pissed, for a lot of reasons. For starters, he's at a fucking dweeb convention, which in itself he might be able to tolerate, but Mikasa had unfortunately convinced him with her feminine wiles to dress up with her. So now, not only is he at a dweeb convention, he's shirtless and supposed to be some kind of warrior prince while his girl is walking around somehow even less clothed than him. Which brings him to his third sleight of the day: Mikasa's outfit. She's dressed as some sort of sexy high priestess, wearing the tiniest dress imaginable with way too many cutouts and far too much of her boobs on display, milky white orbs practically spilling from her corset, and to top it all off creepy men keep coming up to her for photos. And worse, she keeps accepting!

Eren is going to impale the next guy who asks with his stupid plastic wizard trident or whatevr fucking prop it is that Mikasa had given him.

He's fucking pissed.

So no, he's not exactly in a happy mood.

Mikasa pouts, standing up on her tippy toes her fingers trying to force his grim expression into a smile.

She pouts as she falls back to her heels, "Eren this is supposed to be fun." "I'm having a great time." She huffs, "You're not even trying, you just keep glaring at all the guys who come up to us, you didn't even react when we saw my favourite cosplayer in person!" Eren still doesn't know exactly which of the many people in costume had been Mikasa's favourite, they all just blend together after a while.

"Who was that again?" Mikasa makes a noise of frustration, looking like she's about to launch into a lecture when yet another guy appears, his eyes on her chest instead of her face, asking for a picture and Mikasa is quick to oblige. Eren on the other hand is fed up of it all. "Beat it punk." Mikasa is absolutely aghast but Eren is tired of mumbling death threats under his breath and glaring guys away from her, the road to him and Mikasa dating was a long hard one that went from them being casual acquaintances to friends to best friends and finally, lovers. That's HIS nerdy girl and he'll be damned if all of these fuckers get to go home and gawk at a picture of his pretty girl in her nerd suit.

"Eren!" Mikasa complains but one step in the fool's direction and the kid is running scared. He looks down at his little hellion seriously, it's almost 6 pm, he's been here all day, putting up with far more than he would for any other girl, and he's fucking tired of it. "Our characters are lovers right?" Eren asks her seriously and she nods, looking confused at his abrupt turn in conversation. "Good," is all he says before crouching down and then rather aggressively throwing her over his shoulder, "I read those books you gave me, and I gotta say Mikasa, they're into some kinky shit." Mikasa gasps audibly, she'd clearly never expected him to actually do research on the character she was making him cosplay.

"I think we should really commit to our characters Mikasa and roleplay a little more in the hotel room, what do you think?" When she doesn't answer Eren smirks, giving her ass a gentle pat as he keeps her dress up so she's not flashing all the other nerds in the area, "I think you should demonstrate to me exactly what kind of relationship our characters have." Maybe the con won't be so bad after all, a hotel room and three more days of pent up sexual tension doesn't sound so terrible anymore.

[invinciblerodent]

Since this thought won't leave my head, I've been looking at old sourcebooks, and in a Forgotten Realms campaign accessory book called "Faiths and Pantheons" (which came out in 2002, so it's 3rd edition), I found this portrayal of Mystra:

This old design has a lot of personality: asymmetric clothes, torn cape, leather, corsetry, errant hairs and a nice, determined face with kinda sharp, strong features. (I personally think this is either still Midnight, or Mystra just after Mystryl assumed Midnight's form.)

The way she appears in BG3 however (so as close to currently as we can get), that's a very... sanitized appearance, compared to the above:

Sure, it could be the same person, they're quite similar, but this new design... I think it's much softer, and I think that that's on purpose.

Hair, perfectly neat. Skin, flawless. Features, perfectly symmetric. Her gown, intricate and beautiful, but very modest, regal... she is cloaked in an ethereal, magical glow, seemingly from within. That's kind of par for the course, she's a goddess: objectively gorgeous in its most conventional (if very eurocentric) sense. But looking past the magic and the dress, I'm halfway expecting this exact woman to be wearing yoga pants and smiling at me from a billboard, trying to sell me low-carb granola or something. It's a very broadly appealing, very generic face with no clear distinguishing features, but unlike the model in the ad, who is a real person that's been made up, airbrushed, and photoshopped within an inch of her life, this is just... her face. This is just the level of inhuman perfection Mystra has.

I could be wrong because this lore is kind of outside of what I usually am into, but I think that Mystryl, in her infinite (and capricious) existence, after assuming the body of Midnight (about whom all I can find is that she was a peasant girl who was chosen as a vessel and is specifically described as beautiful) and becoming Mystra, consciously designed her appearance this way.

She chose Midnight not only (or not even mainly) because of her potential, but also for her beauty. I mean, if power had been most important, why wouldn't she have chosen the most powerful one of her already devoted disciples? Why would she choose a girl who's just barely learned her first cantrips, and isn't specifically stated to even be her worshipper (as far as I can tell)? And, even after selecting that body specifically, she made her face softer, more perfect than human. Why wouldn't she? Minsc says it, she appears to be known to have a taste for wizard boys, so much so that the Rashemen "hide" them from her. Why wouldn't she take on a form that those she seeks to attract would be most likely to find attractive?

Anyway, I don't remember if Gale says the exact age he was when she first appeared to him (iirc he just says he was young, which considering his apparent age now could mean anything from like... 13-25 I think), but the more I think about it, the more... gross the whole thing is.

She is an immortal goddess who has existed- and will exist basically forever (already a rough start for reasons I've detailed before), who specifically designed herself to be enticingly beautiful, and her favorite pastime is luring unsuspercting boys to herself, and making them feel like they are special, privileged by her attentions. She gives them a taste of power, and once they're... interesting? devoted? mature? enough to appeal to her sexually, she takes them as lovers.

That's specifically grooming. That is exactly what grooming fucking is, she wears her face like the lure of a fucking anglerfish, and her appeal/the infatuation she generates in her lovers basically falls apart at the first sign of a genuine connection with another mortal.

So, uh. Yeah. This has already been a Mystra hate blog, but... yah.

This is another thing, also.

Me, waking up at 5 am in a cold sweat: Mystra's human appearance being uncanny perfect and statuesque, but honestly overall unremarkable, shows not only her vanity, but also the immaterial and immature nature of the love Gale had for her. Like a vain and petty goddess with a taste for young wizard boys would, she purposefully and artificially designed her appearance for broadest appeal (conventionally attractive white woman, roughly maybe 30-ish? She literally looks like the post-PS "perfected" version of so many models who work in advertising), and has foregone personality in the process-- which is something with which young Gale was unconcerned, because he was just so enamored with the illusion of perfection that he didn't even seek substance, or anything past that veneer until much later, AND when he did, he got punished for it severely.

Gale first being so enamored with her that he has to conjure her face just to gaze upon it, THEN falling for a character with a more niche, more "human", flawed appeal (such as a stout, hairy, scarred-up lil blue dwarf man with a funny mustache, and a silly lil beard to conceal his weak chin), THEN seeing her AGAIN and not even thinking for a single moment about her beauty is. 👌👌👌

He's standing IN FRONT OF the goddess who once dominated his every thought, and he's just thinking "this conversation is uncomfy, I wish my boyfriend could have come with me :c".

Fkin king shit tbqh

[dirhwangdaseul-archived]

How ‘Lord of the Rings’ Inspires Italy’s Giorgia Meloni - The New York Times

posted the entire thing was behind paywall

ROME — Giorgia Meloni, the hard-right leader who is likely to be the next prime minister of Italy, used to dress up as a hobbit.

As a youth activist in the post-Fascist Italian Social Movement, she and her fellowship of militants, with nicknames like Frodo and Hobbit, revered “The Lord of the Rings” and other works by the British writer J.R.R. Tolkien. They visited schools in character. They gathered at the “sounding of the horn of Boromir” for cultural chats. She attended “Hobbit Camp” and sang along with the extremist folk band Compagnia dell’Anello, or Fellowship of the Ring.

All of that might seem some youthful infatuation with a work usually associated with fantasy-fiction and big-budget epics rather than political militancy. But in Italy, “The Lord of the Rings” has for a half-century been a central pillar upon which descendants of post-Fascism reconstructed a hard-right identity, looking to a traditionalist mythic age for symbols, heroes and creation myths free of Fascist taboos.

“I think that Tolkien could say better than us what conservatives believe in,” said Ms. Meloni, 45. More than just her favorite book series, “The Lord of the Rings” was also a sacred text. “I don’t consider ‘The Lord of the Rings’ fantasy,” she said.

Tolkien’s agrarian universe, full of virtuous good guys defending their idyllic, wooded kingdoms from hordes of dark and violent orcs, has for decades prompted scholarly, and convention center, debate over the author’s racial and ideological biases, his view of modernity and globalization. More recently, his works have also provided a fertile shire for nationalists who see themselves in his heroic archetypes.

But in Italy, the adventures of Bilbo Baggins and the maps of Mordor have informed generations of post-Fascist youths, including Ms. Meloni, who, the latest polls strongly suggest, will emerge from the election on Sunday as Italy’s first female prime minister — and the first descended from post-Fascist roots.

Ms. Meloni, who leads the hard-right Brothers of Italy party, and who has called for a naval blockade against illegal migrants and warns her supporters about the dark, conspiratorial forces of internationalist bankers, first read Tolkien, a conservative who once called Hitler a “ruddy little ignoramus,” at age 11. She became a fantasy fanatic.

In her early 20s, she surfaced in chat rooms under the nickname Khy-ri, calling herself the “little dragon of the Italian undernet.” More recently, she named her political conference Atreju, an Italian rendering of the name of the hero of “The NeverEnding Story,” best known as a 1980s cult film featuring a flying animatronic character that appeared to be half dragon, half Labrador retriever.

As a government minister in 2008, Ms. Meloni posed for a magazine profile next to a statue of the wizard Gandalf. In 2019, she honored a manga character, Captain Harlock, the “space pirate,” as a “symbol of a generation that challenged the apathy and indifference of people.” Last month, she lamented that her busy campaign schedule had kept her from mainlining Amazon’s new “Rings of Power” series.

But Ms. Meloni’s otherworldly interests have as much to do with politics as personal taste.

“The genre of fantasy in Italy has always been cultivated by the right,” said Umberto Croppi, a former member of the Italian Social Movement who is now the director of a national association of public and private agencies in Italy’s culture industry. He said that the two worlds shared a “vision of spirituality against materialism, a metaphysical vision of life against the forms of the modern world.”

The modern world did not work out so well for the die-hard Fascists who stayed loyal to Hitler and Mussolini after the official Italian government switched sides to join the Allies during World War II.

After the war, many of those Fascists flocked to the Italian Social Movement, but the party’s efforts to reintegrate into Italy’s institutions eventually hit a wall. Its younger members, feeling excluded from civil society, seized on an Italian edition of “The Lord of the Rings,” prefaced by Elémire Zolla, a philosopher who was a point of reference on the hard right and who argued that Tolkien was “talking about everything we confront every day.”

That resonated with a small group of the party’s Youth Front, already bristling at the cultural dominance of the left. They saw themselves, as one of their leaders, Generoso Simeone, put it, as “inhabitants of the mythical Middle-earth, also struggling with dragons, orcs, and other creatures.” Seeking a more palatable alternative to quoting Mussolini’s speeches and spray-painting Swastikas, which, Mr. Croppi pointed out, “was easy to reproduce on walls,” in 1977, they created the first Camp Hobbit festival.

“The idea to call it Camp Hobbit came from a real strategy,” said Mr. Croppi, one of the founders. The thinking was to move beyond the old symbols and to capitalize on the party’s isolation, smallness and victimization by violent leftist enemies to make their hero “not the warrior Aragorn, but the little hobbit — we wanted to get out of this militarist, heroic idea.”

The party’s old guard was perplexed. But, with the support of hard-liners, Camp Hobbit festivals emerged as formative touchstones for the young activists. Celtic cross flags that meshed perfectly with the Tolkien aesthetic waved. The band Fellowship of the Ring played songs about European identity, including what became the anthem of the party’s Youth Front, “Tomorrow Belongs to Us.”

The song echoed a ballad “Tomorrow Belongs to Me,” sung by a member of the Hitler Youth in a chilling scene in the movie “Cabaret.” Mr. Croppi acknowledged that the camps had their fair share of Fascist salutes, but argued they were “ironic.”

When Ms. Meloni entered the picture as a teenage activist in the Youth Front in Rome in the 1990s, the far right — especially in the capital — was still in a trenchlike mentality, struggling to break with the previous generation.

Francesco Lollobrigida, a leader in Ms. Meloni’s party, Brothers of Italy (as well as her brother-in-law), said that he and others had a desire starting in the 1980s “to break with the patterns of a party that still had inside of it people who had been in the Social Republic, who had done fascism.”

Ms. Meloni, seated across from him, agreed.

“There was a desire to get out of that,” she said.

Ms. Meloni attended a new iteration of Camp Hobbit in 1993, which she called a “political laboratory” and where she sang along with Fellowship of the Ring and discussed culture and books.

“We read everything,” Ms. Meloni said.

The bookstore of choice for the hard right in Rome was Europa, just outside the Vatican walls. On a recent visit, it displayed titles like “Mussolini Boys” and “The Occult Origins of Nazism.” A picture of Hitler stood watch above the register next to a cup of pens.

Europa has a section dedicated to Julius Evola, an esoteric, deeply taboo, Nazi-affiliated Italian philosopher who became a favorite of Italy’s post-Fascist terrorists and bourgeoisie-loathing nostalgists. Evola argued that progress and equality were poisonous illusions.

“A bit boring,” Mr. Lollobrigida said of Evola’s work.

Ms. Meloni said that instead a more influential writer at the time was the more mainstream Ernst Jünger, a German former soldier, who sought to make sense of war but also glorified combat.

But for Ms. Meloni, all of those took a back shelf to “The Lord of the Rings.” She said she had learned from dwarves and elves and hobbits the “value of specificity” with “each indispensable for the fact of being particular.” She extrapolated that as a lesson about protecting Europe’s sovereign nations and unique identities.

In the 1990s, after becoming the leader of the youth wing of the National Alliance, the party that succeeded the Italian Social Movement, Ms. Meloni started her own political festival, which she called “similar” to Camp Hobbit. But this time, she named it Atreju. “It was the symbol of a boy in battle against nihilism, against the Nothing that advances,” she said.

She joked that Italians could hardly pronounce Atreju, but she said that the annual conventions, including the first one, in 1998, which was about the dangers of globalization, had reach.

“We wanted to say that globalization, you have to govern it,” she said. “If you look around, we weren’t wrong, were we?” she added.

At the Atreju convention in 2018, the guest of honor, Stephen K. Bannon, walked by patriotic posters of “Italy’s heroes” and desks selling Evola-themed T-shirts and works by Evola. Ms. Meloni’s supporters have interpreted her calls to defend Italy from mass migration — and the replacement of native Italians by invaders — as a battle cry to protect Middle-earth. This month, at a rally in Sardinia, Davide Anedda, 21, the leader of the local youth wing of the Brothers of Italy, wore a T-shirt reading “Hobbit.”

“If you’re not from our world, it’s very hard to understand,” Mr. Anedda said, explaining that Hobbit was a post-Fascist far-right rock band and that Tolkien had written “a fundamental part of our history.”

And for Italy, maybe a part of its future.

Ms. Meloni, who seems poised to grab her own brass ring after decades in the political trenches, said that her understanding of power and its ability to corrupt and isolate a person was “closely tied to Tolkien’s reading.”

“I consider power very dangerous,” she said. “I consider it an enemy and not a friend.”

@vague-humanoid @antifaspiderman @beserkerjewel

[exovapor]

The Adventure - TMNT Bitches: Chapters 4 & 5

CHAPTER 4:  The Ping

·         Baxter Stockman sits staring absent-mindedly at the computer screen.  He’s been watching the screen for hours, waiting for a sign from the interdimensional portal device to let him know where Shredder went and where to send the rescue team.  However, even though he’s staring straight at the screen, he isn’t seeing anything flashing across it.

·         Stockman’s mind is having a slight issue with focusing after Karai’s parting threat.  What type of mutant would he turn into?  A hippo?  A raccoon?  A frog? A gelatinous pile of ooze?  

·         Or, would he even survive the mutation?  The more time Stockman spent studying the mutagen, the more he has come to realize just how unstable and dangerous the substance is in Earth’s atmosphere.

·         They had gotten VERY lucky that both Bebop and Rocksteady survived the initial mutation trial. By his calculations, the mutagen would kill 1 out of every 5 people and that ratio only increases the more unstable the chemical becomes.  Sure, Krang keeps them supplied with a fresh batch every so often, but the fact still remains, the substance and the subsequent mutation are dangerous for the test subject.

·         Karai really wouldn’t mutant him, would she?  After all, he is the brains behind their operation!  Where else will she find a someone with his knowledge, with his skill, with his ambitions?  Without him there IS no operation!

·         He is still contemplating his uncertain future when a pinging alert sounds from his computer. He can’t believe his eyes!  There on his screen a little dot flashes to indicate that the portal device has powered back on and it has sent over the last known Jump coordinates.  He feels elated, relieved, and then shocked.  The last known Jump coordinates were one thing, but the actual devices location is another…the device is still here in this dimension and in New York City no less.

·         He watches the screen as the little dot flashes and then disappears all together, sending back a exact copy of the previous Jump coordinates.  The device is no longer pinging in NYC, nor this dimension. Someone just used the device to follow Shredder.  “Turtles”, Baxter spits from his mouth, knowing full well who would want to follow his master into another dimension.

·         He quickly phones Karai to let her know that he’s got the coordinates of Shredder’s location and then he sends a message to the backup portal device to command Bebop and Rocksteady to come back and get armed up, they’ve got to stop those turtles.

_____________________________

CHAPTER 5:  Normal Among Freaks

·         The brothers stand clustered together on the top level of the parking deck, taking in the foreign surroundings.  Hoping that this dimension isn’t too divergent from their own; otherwise, they will be ill-prepared for this trip.  

·         Mikey breaks away from the group to follow his curiosity, all the merry voices drifting up from the streets is just too tempting to ignore.  As he looks over the edge of the parking deck, he sees all forms of aliens, vampires, people in Viking armor, people in battle body armor, people dressed in renaissance clothing, wizards and witches, women in small barely-there outfits, people in super hero attire, others in space suits, robots, and so much more, he can’t believe his eyes, “Hey, dudes, um…how sure are we that this place is like ours?”.

·         “I’m pretty sure, Mikey,”, Donnie says over his shoulder, while swiping through screens, trying to see if there are any traces of Shredder still left in the area, “why do you ask?”.

·         “Ahhhh..well…because…um…I’m not seeing a lot of normal people down there”, Mikey replies back, his voice full of tension, “I think our new looks may not work for us here”.

·         Raph runs over to join his smaller brother at the edge and is immediately flabbergasted by the display…especially the barely-there outfits of many of the women, “Shit!  Ya guys gotta see dis!”.

·         Leo and Donnie begrudgingly join the other two at the edge of the parking deck to survey the spectacle that has their brothers so enthralled.  Their eyes sweep across the scene and they are equally amazed by what they are seeing.  Leo lifts his brow at Donnie in a questioning gaze.

·         Donnie pulls his goggles from his forehead, over his eyes, and starting electrically analyzing the scene, “Hm.  Well, Mikey, I think we are still safe.  It appears that all the biological beings down there are indeed humans, just in costumes…hmmm…most of which seem to be crafted out of fiberglass, foam, and various textiles”.  He replaces his goggles back on his head and goes back to his virtual computer screen, scanning through some information, “AH!  This explains it!  The data screaming out of some of these buildings states that there is a Sci-if/Comic Book Convention, by the name of Dragon Con, taking place over the next few days”, he says with a wide grin.  He sighs and with longing in hazel his eyes he adds, “I’ve always wanted to go to one of those”.

·         “OH, OH, me too! ME TOO!”, Mikey affirms excitedly. His eyes light up with joy at the prospect at socializing and partying, “Can we, Leo?  Can we catch it out?”.

·         At that moment, Raph sees one woman practically nude except for a set of heels, a collar, a thong, and some black tape crisscrossed over her areolas, “Damn, I’d like to check her out.”.  Raph leans over the lip of the concrete deck and cat-calls down to the woman below, “Babydoll, can I take that tape off with my teeth?”.  The woman looks up at his roguish grinning face, she takes in his large body, his shirt pulling taunt and tight across his torso so she giggles and waves at him, replying, “Any time big boy, come find me.”.

·         “Oh, I’ll find her alright.  Leo, I’ve got a mission”, he turns to Leo and Donnie grinning proudly.

·         Leo gives a no-nonsense look to all of his preoccupied brothers, “We came here on a mission.  We don’t have time to play around.  We’ve got to find Shredder before he has a chance to use that mutagen.”

·         Mikey’s carefree face falls once again and he stares longingly down into the streets below, “But it looks so fun!  We finally look normal, it would be nice to join in for once.”, he mumbles in a broken-hearted tone.

·         Raph’s mood turns sour at being denied a chance to follow his…instincts…and he throws Leo a confronting stare.  “Just our luck!  We ooze ourselves ta look like them and now all of them are looking like freaks like us”, Raph declares sarcastically while gesturing with his large hands towards the costumed crowds below.

·         A grieved huff comes out of Donnie as he crosses his arms and rebukes Raph’s assessment of his fellow nerds and geeks, “They are not freaks!  They are cosplay enthusiasts who gain satisfaction from crafting genre replicas and embodying their favorite heroes and villains.”

·         “Yeah, like I said, freaks.”, Raph echoes back with a half-cocked smile and rolling his massive shoulders.  He knows when he has Donnie on the defensive about his geek stuff and nothing brings him more joy than egging-on his nerdy brother…especially when he’s been denied playtime by Leo.  He’ll take his fun where he can find it.

·         “We should get back from the edge and try to go as unnoticed as possible,” Leo says a little unsure of situation and the effect that it is having on his brothers.  He doesn’t like the unsettling feeling of being uncertain, of the group already getting distracted, and is still in the habit of wanting to remain hidden.  He backs away from the edge and turns to Donnie, “Donnie, is there any indication that Shredder was here and where he may have gone?”.

·         The tall dark haired mutant starts scanning the area as Leo follows him, they move towards the middle of the parking area, following Donnie’s scans.  Raph pulls a very curious and reluctant Mikey back from the edge of the parking deck, by the collar of his shirt, to join their brothers. Donnie’s scans send back confirmation of black hole activity, other than their most recent arrival, and he is still scanning the horizon when they hear a blaring horn.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @nittleboo @kokokatsworld @the-second-circle-of-shell

[tharrb]

Lost hum-Anne-ity au:chapter 2

@eeveearoace @sonofrose

Over a decade has passed since Anne left amphibia, and her life has only gotten better. She grew up and became a herpetologist. She lives with her best friends turned girlfriends, Sasha and Marcy. And just last year, a miracle happened; they found a portal back to amphibia. The three were able to reunite with their friends and families in that world. While the portal closed when they returned, Terri had promised to work on a stable portal.

All in all, life had turned out great.

Anne and her girlfriends were currently getting ready for a convention for a signing and q-and-a for Marcy’s webcomic. They were dressed as the three main antagonist of the story; Anne was amber, a blue robbed mage, Sasha was tsunami, a crimson armored warrior, and Marcy was mistral, a green cloaked ranger.

“Not afraid to bare your midriff, eh boonchuy?” said sasha, lightly slapping her girlfriends stomach. “Hey, if I got a healthy bit of pudge, I might as well show it off.” Anne replied. “Okay I’m comming out.” Said Marcy as she exited the dressing room. “That’s a new look.” Anne said, pointing out how mistrals outfit was more dress like, and exposed her upper chest. “Yeah, it’s based on an upcoming costume change.” Said Sasha.

“Yeah.” Sighed Marcy, placing a hand on her exposed scar. “For a while, certain people made me feel…ashamed for having this scar. But you two never made me feel this way.” “Well I think you look beautiful.” Said Anne. “Now come her my loves.” She pulled her girlfriends in for hug.

The trio arrived at the convention. “My q-and-a is gonna last around five hours.” Said Marcy “so if you wanna do something else in that time…” “what do you think Ann-“

Sasha froze midsentance. As did everything else. Time itself had stopped. Anne knew this could only mean one thing.

“Hey Anne.” Said Sasha. Only it wasn’t Sasha’s voice that came out of her mouth, and it wasn’t who was speaking. It was them. The guardian.

“What do you want?” Said Anne, frustrated. “Oh, nothing, I just wanted to warn you.” Said the guardian, this time speaking through Marcy. “Warn me of what, exactly?” “There’s someone here who wishes to harm Marcy.” They said, speaking through a man signing autographs at a nearby booth. “Who? Who wants to hurt Marcy?” Anne said, now panicked. “You’ll know when you see them.” They replied, now speaking through an entire crowd of people. “That doesn’t exactly help me.” “You find out soon.” The gaurdian said, speaking though a small fly. “Okay byyyye.”

Time resumed. Anne paused to process what the deity told her.

“I said what do you want to do?” Spoke Sasha, snapping Anne back to reality. “Oh uh” anne stuttered “I think we should stick by Marcy. Just in case anything happens.” “I can take care of myself.” Said Marcy. “No Anne’s right. We don’t know what kind of creeps are here.” Said Sasha. “Besides, that just gives us more time to appreciate your new costume.” Marcy blushed.

Marcys q-and-a started. While Anne and Sasha stood beside her, Marcy began answering her fan’s questions.

“If amber and tsunami represent the earth and sea respectively, why are their color schemes blue and red?

“It’s because amber hails from the blue mountains of bzzkragt, while tsunami controls fire along with water.”

“Why did olive and yu-tia get a redemption arc after they abandoned mistral?”

“Well, those two are based on two people I have a…complicated relationship with. I’d rather not go into it.”

“In chapter 178, olive was briefly absent and was replaced a different character. Why is that?”

“Ah, well, when something like that happens, a wizard did it.”

“Yes, but in-“

“Wizard did it.”

Sasha listened intently to Marcy’s lecture. Anne meanwhile was focused entirely in the crowd. It was about an hour in that she saw a guy in a black hoodie. She couldn’t see his face, but she had a feeling that they were who domino 3 was talking about.

||The figure pulled a gun. Instinctively, Anne threw herself in front of Marcy. A shot was fired. Anne was struck in her exposed stomach, and collapsed to the ground. She could her Marcy cry out her name. Sasha picked her up and begged her to stay with them. Everything went black.

Anne found herself back in to deity’s little house. She stared down at the god, who took the form of her old cat, domino. “Did…did I die again?” “No” replied the deity “you’re body is safely recovering in the hospital. Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

“But since you’re here.” Said the guardian. “Perhaps we can talk about you taking over my position-“

“NO!”

The cat turned their head in confusion. “Really? But I thought we agree to it.” “We didn’t agree to anything.” Said anne, already sick of having this conversation for the umptenth time. “Well it’s just that, have a brought you back and sent you and your friends back home, you’d be more grateful. Not to mention warning you just recently.”

“Look. I’m thankful you did all those things. But for the last time, I don’t want the job.” “Ah okay. Well I can wait until you pass naturally-“ “No, I don’t want the job, PERIOD.” “What?” “I just…I just want to live my life and pass on like everyone else.” “But you were so selfless and responsible-“ “well maybe I don’t want the responsibility! Me and my friends, we all suffered so much trying to save all worlds. I think, we deserve just to be ourselves.”

This wasn’t good, the guardian thought. They believed that Anne would accept the offer once she grew into the best version of herself. But it seems that wouldn’t be the case. Fortunately, they had a contingency.

“Okay.” Said the deity, as they grinned mischievously. Anne felt a pulse throughout her being. She fell into a white void. Everything was going according to design, the guardian thought.

With their help, Anne would reach the best version of herself. Regardless if she wanted to or not.

[kaypeace21]

Analyzing the 5 plays in this drama club poster .From the bts pics of stranger things 4.

So... some of ya’ll know I'm going through the st s4 films given to us by the official st twitter + the films reffed in the show itself or mentioned by the Duffers in interviews .

So I decided to look at the plays mentioned here. Because even if we don't see the monologues in the show directly - the Duffers wouldn't name drop anything unless it inspired them in some way. Similar to films name dropped in the show. Tw : for some dark themes .

This is just a quick little analysis I decided to do since we probably won't get any new st content today (3/22). Nothing too deep. Just mentioning things that caught my interest especially cause these plays have a lot of narrative connections to the st s4 movies I've been watching.

Invitation to a march (Authur laurents)

Reminds me of the stancy/jancy love triangle. "A young woman is having second thoughts about doing the right thing and marrying a respectable , rich, kind, young man with good prospects.By way of a prewedding diversion, this woman becomes interested in the passionate but poor and entirely unsuitable son of a local landlord.Basically, the plot concerns the efforts of Norma Brown to choose between a conventional fiance who "puts her to sleep" but is wealthy (like what her own mother did) or go for this new-poor guy. The play is principally interested in how this youthful love triangle affects the three mothers involved (whether the kids like it or not)

12th night (Shakespeare)

 - viola (el) wrongly assumes a family member (hopper) is dead. She dresses up as a man named 'cesario'. A girl named Olivia falls for 'cesario' (violet dressed as a man). "Finally, when 'Cesario' and Sebastian (violet's twin brother: assumed to have drowned - Will) appear in the presence of Olivia there is more wonder and confusion at their physical similarity. Taking Sebastian for 'Cesario', Olivia asks him to marry her, and they are secretly married in a church. Cough if Olivia is 'straight' cause she fell for Viola (as a doppleganger dressed like her twin brother).Mike being into el who multiple characters in s1 said looked like a boy and specifically like Will is...suspish and a hint he's not straight lol. just like Olivia they're both into guys . plus, this play just has a butt load of love triangles (ugh i hated that aspect). There was also romantically coded letters (which was in the s4 films) . One character is also thrown into an insane asylum and framed as 'insane'.'Pretending that Malvolio is insane, they lock him up in a dark chamber. Feste visits him to mock his insanity'. We all know the psych hospital will be narratively important- talked about it more here.

The seagull (Anton Chekhov-russian)

similar to how I believed s4 will show m*#even already broken up since the months between s3-4 : act 3 (s3) ends with Nina begging for one last chance to be with Trigorin before he leaves/moves away. They kiss and make plans to meet again in Moscow.And in act 4 there's a timeskip where it shows they've been broken up for a long time between acts- and its established they never actually loved eachother. Do i even have to spell out why this parallels the m*#even ending in s3? There is also a play within the play (this is common in a lot of the st films- they have plays- or a story within a story- which illustrate certain themes or emotions of the characters within said film : blackswan, children of paradise, highschool musical, Rushmore, book of Henry, welcome to marwen, never ending story, romancing the stone, wet hot American summer, etc).The play is Konstantin's latest attempt at creating a dense symbolist work. There is also alot of love triangles in the seagull. TW!: for se#ual ab*se/su*cidal thoughts/ inc*st (here and in other play segments). The seagull motif reminds me a lot of Jonathan's rabbit story.Konstantin romantically into Nina shows up to give her a gull that he has shot. Nina is confused and horrified . Trigorin sees the gull that Konstantin has shot and muses to Nina on how he could use it as a subject for a short story: "The plot for the short story: a young girl lives all her life on the shore of a lake. She loves the lake, like a gull, and she's happy and free, like a gull. But a man arrives by chance, and when he sees her, he destroys her, out of sheer boredom. Like this gull."  This immediately reminded me of jon's rabbit story and some of the movies on the s4 list . Like in forrest gump- Jenny (who is poor) was se*ually ab*sed as a very young girl by her father. As a child she runs away into a field-away from her alcoholic father yelling at her -there she prays that she can "be a bird so I can fly far far away" .

Jenny as an adult struggles with this unresolved trauma- being with ab*sive partners, doing dr*gs, and having su*cidal thoughts . She as an adult when contemplating su*icide, jokes 'you think i can fly like a bird ?' while looking down at a bridge.God-i'm worried about jonathan (Jenny was also a musician sort of like jon). In another s4 movie example ' mystic river ' :(in the 80s) a preteen baseball playing boy is r*ped by men in the woods. He later says he wishes he could become an undead monster to not feel the pain of that experience - cause quote " if I'm not human anymore maybe the pain will stop" (Will) . slightly off topic but he also has another personality, imagines a alternate word that dissappears when he turns his head. And as a less direct animal parallel to the play - the boy from the film also imagined his perpetrators as monsters and wolves to cope.In 'getout' the photographer character sees a dead deer in the woods and it represents a parent/his own childhood tra*ma relating to his past. similarly in 'prince of tides' the 2 siblings as kids were ra*ed by men. The older brother remembered it and the younger sibling developed DID (so didn't remember but she would draw wolves- as the perpetrators/villains in her picture stories she created . In the film they also had an ab*sive dad and were very poor. She also tried k*ling herself multiple times-but started to get better after remembering the source of her pain and trauma.  There is also the theme of multiple attempted su*cides in the play- and the play ends with yet another attempt- and the audience is left unaware of the artist's fate at the end of the play.

The tempest (Shakespeare)

Prospereo - (the perceived antagonist) is a wizard with monstrous looks, storm powers , and ability to create monster-dogs

He wants revenge on a man who tried ra*ing his family member & revenge on his other family member who wronged him years ago. I mean... pretty much my did theory.But in the end.Prospero decides to show his enemies the mercy that they did not show him twelve years earlier. He tells Ariel to bring the men to him, he will restore their sanity and then renounce magic forever.Prospero breaks the spell that the men are under .

Diary of a scoundrel (Alexander Ostrovsky-Russian)

-  I suppose this could loosely relate to Jonathan? Glumov, is a young man from an impoverished family lacking status seeking entrance into society's pampered class. A 19th-century Russian scoundrel must scheme his way out of his meager life in a small apartment -whatever it takes.He has a quick mind and some talent for seeing through the hypocrisies of people around him ( Jonathan does make a lot of social critiques about society). That gives him some advantages. A tale of one man's mission to finagle his way into upper-class society and find a cushy job. Set in 1874, this social comedy follows Glumov, a Russian youth who begins his ambitious ascent to social esteem. He progresses by wit, guile and rhetoric. Pitting one stupid person against another, he soon gains his ends. To reach these goals, Glumov will lie, flatter, and cater to the vanities of the wealthy. Unable to contain his disgust with his victims, Glumov decides to relieve his unvoiced satirical comments by recording his schemes in a diary. But he is tripped up by his uncle's wife, to whom he has made passionate love on his way to success. At the end of the play, his diary is stolen and his duplicity exposed, but he can nevertheless suceeds. The author is much more critical about the high society itself than about the main character, so the play keeps attracting generations of directors by opening possibilities for political criticism while also avoiding naming names of the current rulers.The play's aim was to overthrow bourgeois tradition and establish a class-conscious art called eccentricism giving a deliberately comic portrayal of reality.

I suppose I notice some possible commonalities-  besides s3 critiquing the wealthy/capitalism in comedic ways . jonathan since s1 has worried about his family's finances / had some resentment toward the rich . In some of the s4 movies ‘orphan’ & ‘ girl interrupted’ someone reads their diary out loud to get at them (in girl interrupted the winona character’s diary even had critiques of her new friends).  Alot of movies also have someone (usually a teen/young adult) making a documentary about their life -which could narratively replace said diary? A few movies have a poor guy adjusting to snobby rich social circles (or being poor and then getting money)- titanic, kingsmen, karate kid, the craft , godfather,  wardogs,into the spiderverse,flashdance, and many others . And movies like wardogs has a poor-young-character do shady things to finacially support his family . There’s also that whole uncle’s wife thing- which makes me uncomfortable for obvious reasons (but I’m just thinking of Lonnie’s creepy gf who was into him). A few movies had the guy’s step mom innappropriately hit on him- orange county & you got mail. And him trying to avoid her advances. Or...not to mention ... it may be a problematic coincidence /trope. But in enter the void -the guy who needs to finacially support his sibling/ does dr*gs -hooks up with his dr*g dealing friend’s married mom (who would give him money).  Or in gilbert grape- the poor teen-who has to finacially support his siblings/single mom-has his endgame relationship be a girl his own age. But before that he h*oked up with a married woman -who would give him money. Don’s plum -young film guy-propositioned by older female film director (for dream job). Not even mentioning the other films that have the guy hooking up with toxic older women (like ‘the graduate’). Or analyze this-where the therapist accuses him of having an Oedipus complex (not touching that one... but the guy in ‘enter the void’ a 100% had one). It’s possible those movies were just- inspo for s3?  A coincidence? Or s3 was foreshadowing for this in s4- but unlike s3 it will accurately be played as wrong  and a sign of Jonathan recreating past tra*ma caused by Lonnie (cough like the photos) /being desperate for money. And not played ‘comedically’ like how it mostly was in s3. But shown as self destructive  (for Jon) and immoral on the Woman’s end. Like... Billy and Jon are character foils. Both are older siblings into rock music, with ab*sive dads who shoved them into walls. Both lose it (and beat steve to a pulp when Steve accidentally triggers their daddy issues). In s3 it’s established womanizer Billy has mommy issues, than he tries ho*king up with someone his mom’s age, and the characters ref ‘back to the future ‘ and Steve incorrectly says it’s about “alex p keaton trying to bang his mom.” This could illustrate his subconscious issues with parental figures/adults cause of Lonnie’s  possible past se*ual ab*se . One film the friend even says to the guy “you don’t have friends!” guy b: i have friends! him:  no you have acquaintances! ADMIT IT! YOU’RE AFRAID OF MEN!I mean-Jonathan liked Nancy- but he initially hooked up with her cause he wanted to prove he didn’t have ‘trust issues’ from his dad. Also it’s prob a bit of a reach (and maybe a coincidence)- but the fact Murray in the same breath compares Steve (Nancy’s then bf) and Lonnie  ... uh... if you think too long about it ... it’s very sinister .  Especially because in s3: muray tells Joyce  that despite her wanting to be with a nice guy, she’s curious about “the brute” Hopper despite him reminding her of a past “bad relationship”(aka Lonnie). Like- yeah connect some dots.  Quite a few films (other than forrest gump) also have the character who (as a kid) was  r*ped by their dad/parent-  begin to do dr*gs/be pr*miscuous as adults since they never learned to properly cope with their trauma (’girl with the dragon tattoo’,  ‘black swan’, and ‘magnolia’). Unfortunately the whole relative doing such things to kid-relatives is in at least 30+ movies. 

Personally, i would be MUCH happier if Jon had a age appropriate romance- and had not a single creepy adult near him. A few movies actually imply Lonnie gets yet another ‘new model’  replacing his gf in her 20s with a new gf- who is ‘barely l*gal” and just turned 18. so there’s that possibility as well- that she’s jonathan’s age.I just want Jonathan-happy &safe. GOD. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?

[zwoelffarben]

About a year an a half before my late aunt's passing, she reminded me of something that happened when I was ten years old, and I had a different perpective on it from her.

We were at a wisconsin renfaire. I'd dressed up in a wizard costume which she made for me; it was probably the last major project she ever sewed before her eyes got... multiple surgeries worth of complicated.

There'd been a fencing demonstration. They'd put you in the protective gear and line you up against each other, balloons above your head for you to aim at. Pop both balloons and you won the match. It was about lunch time, so this popular attraction didn't have a line, and I wanted to do it; problem was, it didn't have a line so there weren't anyone else there to do it with me.

Autistic meltdowns, years before autism was a well-known (if misunderstood) conditions earned me a rebutation as a troublesome child, so my aunt asked if I could spar with one of the instructors, who agreed. They suited me up, put a sword in my right hand, I moved it to my left hand, and we were ready; me and the adult across from each other ready to fence.

The judge said go. Like lightning I shocked him, my aunt, and myself as I moved faster and more fluidly than I have in my life before or since, and with one viscious thrust that he wasn't prepared for at all, I popped his first balloon.

There was a lull, and we went back to our starting position for the second round. Now I was a kid but I knew the score: that first shot had surprised him, but only because he wasn't actually taking a duel with a kid any amount of serious, and that became more and more obvious as in the second round, I swung at his second balloon trying to pop it.

The balloon refused to pop. As the crowd grew, and I was aware the eyes on me were increasing constantly, my strike grew desperate, looking to pop the balloon. I was hitting it, but the strikes bounced off ineffectively. Eventually my dueling partner took a knee to give me a better angle, and I won against the sandbag. Everyone cheered, the king and queen 'knighted' me; and, I said to my dueling partner, "I'm sorry you had to lose."

My aunt and I both remember that funny little line, but she interpretted it differently from my meaning. She'd thought it was a cute little thing about how certain I'd been of victory. It wasn't that. I'm was never an athletic child, and my clumbsy autistic ass had been aware of that since I figured out how to put twice as much food in my body as the rest of my peers; if I'd gone against another kid, I would have lost 0-2. I got in that fencing gear expecting to give it my best shot and get completely floored.

But, the adult let me handedly win 2-0, maybe 2-1 (I don't remember too much, details are soup, but emotions are bread). I was offering him sincere condolences that whichever social conventions he believed in had forced him to concede in this game of skill that he'd put so many hours into mastering to a kid who got picked last for sportball every day of his life, and acknowledging how much easier it would have been for him to cleanly popped both my balloons in one motion during second round than it'd been to let me win.

I couldn't and can't help but wonder, would he have preferred winning that match? The current me woulda rather lost and I think my younger self would agree: that first strike, that thrill of landing a hit off an adult when neither he nor I were expecting it to happen was worth so much more than the slog of letting me pop the second balloon: I got more than I could have ever wanted out of the experience in that that first strike, but I think losing as I realistically expected I was going to woulda made for a more well rounded experience over all.

[sugarandspice-games]

Flirty Cosplayer MC makes Levi Jealous

Leviathan should really be used to this feeling.

This burning, clawing, twisting in his chest that shortens his breath and makes his muscles jump with the urge to run, and hide, and never look back.

Even if he wanted to not look back, he couldn’t look away. 

How could he?

This happened every single time you went to a convention together. It should have been fun: conventions were typically the place to share your interests with like minded people, and he had been eager to see you in the costume he made for you, showing off his hard work…

But there you stood, in the middle of a sea of flashing cameras, side by side with a handsome cosplayer dressed as the Lord of Shadows… and to add insult to injury, his arm was draped around your shoulder!

He knew it was only for the purpose of the photo, because the characters were close... But still!

Still…

Seeing you so close with someone who was practically better than him in every way, while you were so far away tore at his heart-- and you were smiling so brightly…

“Levi!” 

Of course. Of course, Asmo would pop in at a time like this… It was his friend after all!

His handsome, talkative friend holding you…

“What, Asmo?” He couldn’t help the slight whine in his voice or how the consonants seem to drag. “What do you want?”

“Ooo! Someone is grumpy!” Asmo’s chipper voice was grinding on his last nerve and Levi huffed, crossing his arms. Asmo only held up his hands with a patient smile. “You should be happy! Isn’t this the kind of thing you live for and our cute MC is modeling for you!”

Asmo wasn’t wrong, but everything else was wrong! There shouldn’t be someone else with his arms around his Henry and you shouldn’t be smiling like that!

“I guess... “

“Levi… What’s wrong?” Asmo’s tone was suddenly serious. “Really, you aren’t this gloomy unless…”

“Levi!”

Your call interrupted Asmo’s statement and Levi’s stomach loosened a bit to clench once more as you approached-- fingers wrapped around the (amazing, better) man’s wrist. 

“I wanted to show you his costume! I thought you might like it--”

“This isn’t the best time, MC. I’m busy,”

Levi blurted out the first thing that came to mind, clutching the oversized Azuki-tan he had in his arms. He had forgotten about her, honestly, but now, he squeezed her and squeezed her tighter when your smile faltered. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” You kept your tone light but your eyes were disappointed. “Zaelix was here today and I figured you might like to have lunch with him since he loves the Lord of Shadows, too…”

Levi couldn’t help but think that it was as if you didn’t realize it. 

The way that demon was looking at you, his eyes entranced with your every move, his hands somehow finding a way to brush your shoulders or pick spare strings off of your costume-- the costume Levi had spent countless hours agonizing over so it would be perfect for you-- as if looking for any excuse to touch you. 

But who could blame him? Levi didn’t, because who wouldn’t fall for someone as radiant and wonderful as you? 

No, if anything it was his own fault. It was his fault for not being more like the man in front of him… and if anything, the way you giggled at his words and scanned him up and down implied you shared his attraction.

You just kept touching him and biting your lip.

 He couldn’t blame you either, for wanting someone more in your league than some washed up has-been of a general who had lost his purpose. For someone better that could go out, go to school and whose entire identity wasn’t being a yucky otaku…

You deserved so much better.

No, you deserved the best.

But… This wasn’t the first, second, or even twentieth time something like this had happened, either… you were just so charming that people flocked to your side, practically begging for your attention like starving puppies begged for food. 

Each and every time, it left Levi confused, hopeless, and…

It sent a fire burning through his veins. 

A fire that wanted to protect you, to keep you for himself. Because he wished he could keep you safe from every pair of eyes that longed to have you for themselves.

That longed to take you away from him, because how could he win?

“Levi? Are you okay?”

Your concerned, slightly hurt gaze snapped him from his reverie and he took a breath. Even if he couldn’t compare to this guy, he couldn’t let you look like that. 

Not his Henry.

“I-I’m great! Sorry about that, I didn’t mean it,” He laughed shakily, fluffing up Azuki-tan harshly. “Azuki-tan is just really soft!”

“She does look soft,” Zaelix responded but his eyes were not on Azuki-tan but you.

Bile started to climb Levi’s throat, but it settled as you let go of Zaelix’s wrist to caress Azuki-tan adoringly. 

“She is very soft... “ You murmured, before reaching to pinch his cheek gently. “But you’re softer Leviachan!”

You ruffled his hair fondly. His cheeks reddened as his heart thunders behind his ribcage.

Zaelix cleared his throat, clearly upset that he’s being ignored at the moment, and Levi’s chest tightened in response.

“So, uh… I wanted to compliment you on your costume, actually,” he said as he turned to you, “Did you buy it somewhere, or did you make it yourself?”

Levi expected your hand to fall and it hurt just as much as he expected… but you didn’t turn to stand beside Zaelix. Instead, you planted yourself beside him, giggling.

“Awww! Thank you so much! Actually…” You grinned and reached over to steal Azuki-tan from him to press your face against her. “My boyfriend made it!”

Your… boyfriend…

Levi.exe has experienced a fatal error. 

Levi.exe has stopped working and will shortly shut down.

He thought his face couldn’t get any redder, but it was roughly the color of a freshly washed hell radish, burning brighter than the sun and dripping with enough sweat to drown a small houseplant. Just like one of those scenes in shoujo anime where the pretty boy does something that nearly causes the protagonist to die of heart failure…!

“Your... boyfriend?” Zaelix questioned, looking around before his eyes finally settled on Levi, who blinked back at him owlishly. “Oh.” 

Zaelix started looking a little flushed himself; it seemed that it was his turn to be embarrassed!

Levi smiled just a bit.

“Yep!” You chirped, pressing yourself close to Levi’s side and wrapping one arm around him, “My boyfriend, the master tailor! He’s an absolute wizard when it comes to fabrics, and he cosplays himself sometimes! If you follow my Devilgram, he made every cosplay you’ve seen there!”

A… wizard? A master tailor?!

He was going to literally die, but you were beaming at him so he just nodded mechanically. 

“Yeah… I did. Anything for my Henry…”

“Oh… “ Zaelix said with an awkward smile, “Man, you’re a pretty talented guy! I knew you were a part of the student council, but I didn’t know you were so handy with a sewing machine. If you take commissions, I might have to get you to make one for me sometime.”

“Of course!” You jumped right in and fluttered your eyelashes at Zaelix. “We look forward to your commission. Right, honey?”

You just called him honey...

You kissed Levi’s cheek and he had no idea what just happened but you were smiling at him! And holding Azuki-tan! And looking so dashing as Henry!

It was a good day!

You winked at Asmo discreetly as Zaelix joined him finally before tugging Levi towards the small, makeshift Ruri-chan Cafe you had spotted earlier. 

Anything for your grumpy Lord of Shadows.

[professorrw]

Halloween, a Barley Lightfoot One-Shot

Tonight is Halloween.

“Barley seriously! Help me with this!” you laugh. You had worked yourself into the corset that went with your dress but you couldn’t tighten it by yourself.

“Alright, I’m coming!” he said as he got off his bed. He stood behind you as you admired yourself in the mirror. Barley’s eyes met yours. 

“Are you going to do it already?” you asked. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just a little spaced out.” He gripped the strings of the corset and pulled, which caused you to let out a breath.

“Too tight?”

“No, it’s good. Just wasn’t expecting you to pull on it so hard.” You smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on the gown as Barley watched. “What?”

“You look good. Really good. You make a good princess.”

“You make a good prince,” you said, turning around to straighten his helmet. He smiled and looked into the mirror.

“Look at us,” you whispered. You were dressed as a princess and Barley was dressed as a knight.

“You guys take forever! Are we going to this party or not?” Ian yelled from the living room. You both laughed and walked to the living room to find Ian dressed in his wizard costume. 

“That’s so cool Ian. I especially love the beard,” you teased.

“Okay, enough jokes. Lets go!” Ian insisted. This was the first Halloween party Ian had been invited to and he asked if you two could come along with him. The three of you got into Guinevere and headed to the party, which was at Ian’s friend’s house.

“So who’s the friend?” you asked.

“Um… her name is Hailey. She’s in my class.” You looked at Ian in the car mirror and noticed he was blushing. You looked over at Barley who was already smirking and looking at you. You had known Barley and Ian for years because of the proximity of your houses and you and Barley were always trying to get Ian out there. It seemed your efforts had finally paid off.

“This is it!” Ian got out of the van first and waited for the two of you. You noticed he was wiping his hands on his robe and looked nervous.

You put your hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay. Come on, let’s go have fun.” With that he led the way inside, making his way through an already packed house. It was a bit overwhelming. There were a ton of people. You and Barley went to the living room where they were playing Mario Kart while Ian went in search of his friend.

“Hey, can I give it a go?” you asked the person that had just lost. They nodded and handed you the remote. 

After a few rounds you had impressed everyone with your win streak. You beat everyone that played against you.

“Okay my turn,” Barley said. He sat next to you on the couch and the last person you beat handed him the remote. “Let’s up the stakes. Let’s make a bet. What do you want?”

A bet? You had gotten so good at Mario Kart from playing with Barley. You were both good so you had about a 50% chance of winning. “If I win… you have to let me borrow Guinevere whenever I want for the next month.”

“Okay, fair. If I win, I want a kiss,” he said with a sly smile.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. In the past year you realized you had feelings for Barley. You never told him because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. Was he messing with you? That’s probably the only thing he could think of, you thought.

“You're on.” You both played hard, neck and neck most of the game. In the final game you were pulling out all the stops to make sure he didn’t win. Not because you didn’t want to kiss him, but because you didn’t like losing in general. Unfortunately he beat you to the finish line by seconds.

“Okay pay up,” Barley said, leaning in. Of course you obliged, meeting him halfway. You expected the kiss to be a short peck but it wasn’t. As soon as your lips touched his, fireworks went off inside you and he didn’t pull away. He instead deepened the kiss and pulled you in by your waist.

When you pulled apart you were both flushed and breathless. 

“Oh wow,” Ian said from behind you.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. Barley looked at you with a soft gaze and smiled. He held his hand out and you took it. He led you outside and you both sat in Guinevere.

“So…” you said.

“Um… Y/N I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. I know that wasn’t the most conventional way to ‘confess’ but it was spur of the moment and I was feeling confident. I totally understand if you don’t feel that way about me. We can still be friends and things can go back to the way they were before,” he rambled, twiddling with his thumbs.

“Barley I like you too. I’ve liked you for over a year.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re so bubbly and true to yourself and kind to everyone. It was hard not to fall for you.”

At that you and Barley both leaned in and kissed again, just as passionately as the first time. This time the kiss was different. It felt like a new beginning. When you pulled away Barley looked like he had stars in his eyes.

“Will you be my princess?”

“Of course, my knight,” you giggled.

[somethinginthewayiam]

The universe can be a bitch (Part 1/2)

(this is a continuation of Nightcap)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x OFC (Anna)

Warnings: slight smut (leading up to part 2)

Words: 6583

Summary: Anna was back on her way to Philadelphia to replace a sick colleague at the Wizard World after her one-night-stand with Sebastian, not knowing what she got herself into and who she would be meeting again at the Wizard World, and most of all, being responsible for there. The three actors from Civil War. Anna sure wasn't ready to face her one-night-stand from the night before, especially when he was now a client and strictly taboo...

a/n: I wrote this after the Wizzard World Convention 2016 and as a follow-up to Nightcap. Hope you like it and let me know if you want to be tagged for Part 2!

a/n:  IMPORTANT! I've never been to a Comic Con or an event like it so I don't really know how it actually works and what's going on there, so please don't judge me and my story on my lack of knowledge. I built up the convention how I needed it for my story and I hope you still like it. Everything I know is from some pictures and videos from people that went there...

tag list:

@himynamebel00​  @melaninromantic @obliviatevamps​

A hammering noise ripped Anna out of her sleep and for a second she didn’t know where she was. She reached over to the nightstand and her hand searched for her phone but it wasn’t there. Somewhere in this room it played her typical wake-up music which clearly didn’t wake her up this time.

The hammering noise resounded again and she finally noticed that someone was at her door. With wobbly feet she got up and wrapped the sheet around her naked body. The next second she remembered why she was sleeping naked, something she normally never did. Sebastian.

His face appeared in her head and a smile came across her face. Someone knocked at her door again. “Oh yeah”, she said to herself and stumbled over to the door. For a second she thought it could be Sebastian and her heart started racing. With a smile she slightly opened the door to get a peek at who was in front of her hotel room.

The corners of her mouth dropped immediately as she saw the receptionist at her door. “I’m sorry to disturb you Miss, but you asked for a wake-up call and didn’t answer the phone, so I wanted to make sure you were alright”, he said and politely looked at the doorframe instead of her body wrapped in sheets. “Oh, yes, thank you”, she said rattled and brushed her messy hair out of her face.

 “What time is it now?”, she asked. “It’s 20 minutes past 6, Miss”, he said and her eyes widened. “What?! Shit!”, she blurted out. “Can you call me a cab, please? I’ll be down in 5 minutes, 10 tops”, she hastily said and ran back into her room to get dressed and pack her suitcase.

“Shit, shit, shit”, she repeatedly said while she collected her clothes off the floor while her phone still played the music somewhere in the room. She finally found it in her purse next to her suitcase. Anna quickly put on her jeans and the shirt from the day before. She collected her things from the bathroom and threw everything into her suitcase.

Anna rushed down to the reception to ask if her cab was already here. “Yes, it is waiting outside for you, Miss”, the man from before said. “Thank you very much”, she said and turned around to leave. “Excuse me, Miss? You still have to pay your bill”, he said. “But the airline is paying for the room”, Anna replied with a bad feeling in her stomach. “The hotel room, yes, but not the drinks from the mini-bar”, he explained.

“How do you even know that? I just left the room”, she asked. “I saw the glasses on the table”, he simply said. “Can I please have your credit card number so we can charge your card when our staff has checked your room?”, he asked. With a frustrated grunt she looked for her wallet in her purse and handed him her credit card. The receptionist gathered all the needed information and then gave back the card.

She quickly ran out to the waiting cab and prayed for low traffic. Anna arrived at the airport just in time to make it to the check-in counter to get an angry look by the airline employee as she checked her in. As soon as Anna had made it through the security check, she went to get a cup of coffee. Now that she had time to sit down for a moment, she realized how tired she was. 4 hours of sleep definitely were not enough but the reason why she had so little sleep was a very good excuse. She stared into the distance and smiled while she stirred in her coffee. Since she had some time left, she decided to go buy a book for the almost 90 minutes of flying she had left until she finally arrived in Philadelphia.

The whole reason she went to Philadelphia was for work. Normally she worked at an event management agency in New York as a hostess for VIP guests. A colleague of her got sick at the first day of the Wizard World Con and Anna had to replace her. She was on her way home from L.A. where her agency had held an event and Philadelphia was a last minute call. Anna had never been to such an event before but her friend Susan from the same agency worked there too this weekend and would help her out if she needed anything.

She didn’t even know which guests she would have to accompany there but Susan would give her all the information as soon as she got there. Anna arrived at her gate a few minutes into boarding and a long line had already formed. With a frustrated huff she took her place at the end of the line. She looked around to see if she could find Sebastian anywhere but since he was in business class, he probably had the early boarding privileges.

When the sign for the seat belt went off, Anna was finally able to go to the toilet. She had to wait in line behind 3 people. For a second she thought about pulling the same trick as on her first flight but the stewardess on this plane seemed to feel very strongly about separating the business class from coach after Anna overheard her talking to another passenger who had asked to go up front for some reason, she wasn’t able to hear why. But that’s when she knew she didn’t even need to ask to go through that velvet curtain.

What would she talk to him about anyways? She couldn’t remember that there was much talking between them last night other than sexual related stuff. Also it kind of seemed pathetic to her to go up to him because it felt like, “Hi, do you remember me? I’m the girl from last night you’ve fucked for two hours straight and then left without even paying for the drinks as you promised.”

Anna shook her head at herself and felt so stupid even considering it. She would probably never see him again and why ruin a perfect night? After she paid a well needed visit to the toilet, she took out the book she bought and started reading it. It took her a few tries to stop thinking about Sebastian and to concentrate on the words she read but after a while she got into the story. Although the book wasn’t that bad, she fell asleep after a few pages and the time flew by in no time.

Anna got ripped out of her sleep as the wheels touched ground and the whole plane shook for a second. As soon as they were allowed to loosen their seatbelts and get up, she grabbed her bag from the compartment box above her head and collected her stuff before she joined the long line of waiting passengers to leave the plane. In order to find the right baggage conveyor belt for her flight, she just followed a few familiar faces from the plane. She walked up to the already moving belt and put down her purse. The few minutes of sleep she had gotten on the plane had wracked her up more than they had helped.

“Hello, beautiful”, she suddenly heard behind her and quickly turned around. It was a bit hard to recognize him with his baseball cap and the ray bans he had put on but it definitely was Sebastian. “Hello”, she replied a bit startled because she thought her chances to meet him again were long gone. “I wanted to come find you on the plane but I fell asleep”, he spoke with a low voice so no one around would hear him. “Don’t worry about it, I fell asleep too”, she said and held an eye out for her suitcase as the first ones started to make their way along the conveyor belt.

They both watched the moving suitcases pass by. “How are your legs?”, he asked and she could hear his smile in his voice even without looking at him. “I’ll get around, thank you”, she replied, still not looking at him. Her crotch was well aware of her activities from last night, but she would not rub it into his face…she did that last night.

“I’d love to stay around a bit longer but I’m already late for work”, he said and shouldered his bag. “Do you only have this one bag?”, she asked, now facing him. “Yes, I’m here just for the weekend”, he said. “Yes, me too…work”, Anna told him and shrugged her shoulders. She felt the need to appear extra casual since she was feeling the complete opposite having him that close to her again.

“Since we’re both here for just the weekend, maybe we could meet up for a drink tonight when you get off work”, he suggested. “I don’t know when that will be, I’m just covering for someone…and I don’t think this would be a good idea anyways”, she said and looked down at her feet. “Maybe you’re right”, he said and although she felt the same, she was a bit sad that it seemed that he felt like that too. “But maybe you’re wrong”, he said and shot her a devilish grin.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself. “How about this? Since we’re both here just for the weekend…if we meet again then we’ll take it a sign that the universe wants us to have that drink”, she suggested. “The universe?”, he chuckled. “You still owe me a drink anyways. So much for ‘my treat’”, Anna said and put the last words in quotation marks with her fingers.

“Oh shit, I forgot to pay for the drinks”, he said, honestly sorry. “Yeah, well, I found out too this morning when they wanted my credit card number”, she said and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’m so sorry. Now you have to let me make it up to you”, he said. “I thought you’re late for work?”, she asked with a smirk at how he probably wanted to make it up to her.

“Shit, you’re right, I really need to go now”, he sighed after a quick look at the clock on the monitor. “But I’m taking you up on that universe thing. If we meet again, we’ll have that drink”, he said and brushed his shoulder against hers as he leaned over.

Anna watched him walk away towards the exit. She actually was late for work too and she couldn’t see her suitcase anywhere. Just when she thought she had to go to the lost and found counter, she finally saw her luggage come out of the hole in the wall. With fast steps she walked towards her suitcase, took it off the belt and rushed to the exit. She immediately found a cab which seemed like a miracle and traffic wasn’t too bad either.

Anna had no time to go to her hotel first. The cab drove her straight to the Pennsylvania Convention Center where the event would be held. She texted Susan from the cab to come and pick her up at the employee’s entrance since she didn’t have any passes yet to get in.

“I thought you’d never make it”, were the words Susan greeted her with as she waved her past the security guards. “I’m so sorry, it’s a long story but I promise it’s not my fault”, Anna apologized and gave her a quick hug. “I know, I know. Thank you so much for filling in”, Susan said. She knew Anna for a few years now and she had always been the professional, punctual type, so that’s why she believed her.

Susan showed Anna where the rooms and offices for the employees were and handed her the pass with which she could walk around freely at the venue. Anna quickly changed in the toilet from her jeans and shirt to a taupe colored knee-long dress and heels in the same color, something she would normally wear to events she worked at. She brushed her long brown hair and put them up in a light, neat bun. There was just enough time left to refresh her make-up and then she walked out to meet with Susan again.

“So, this weekend you’re in charge of three of our biggest VIPs. Since Christine is sick, you’re the only one experienced enough to handle them”, Susan talked while she walked down a hall. Anna was barely able to keep up. “You’ve got the Civil War fraction, names and info are here”, she said and handed Anna a clipboard with the schedules for panels, photo-ops and signings. “Your guests arrived just a minute ago. I had Amber greet them and bring them to you”, Susan kept on talking. Anna just nodded. “I’m in charge of the other guests from Marvel, so we’ll meet up eventually at some point, but please don’t ask me when”, she said and stopped in front of a big door.

“I know this is your first comic themed convention. It can be a bit much but I’m sure you’ll handle it just fine. Just be your professional self and the weekend will be over in no time…and thank you so much again for filling in”, Susan said, gave her a quick hug and pushed the door open.

It was very loud and a lot of people in amazingly detailed costumes walked around. Anna was immediately fascinated and blown away by it, but sadly had no time to look around any further. Susan directed her to the backstage area for the guests and walked into a room. “This is the room for your guests. You will be coming back here every now and then, when they have a break or waiting for their next session. I’ll be on the other end of the center, so if you need anything, just call me”, she said and was about to walk out again. “And good luck”, she said while closing the door behind her and the next moment Anna was alone.

She took a water bottle from the table full of food and drinks in the corner and took a big sip. It was time to look at the clip board since her guests could arrive any minute. Anna walked over to the couch and sat down. Her shoes hurt her already and she thought they might have been a bad choice in this big center. Maybe she had time in-between her guests’ appointments to go change to more comfortable lower heels.

Anna looked at the printouts of her guests. “Oh Chris Evans”, she said out loud when she looked at the first page. There was a page with a picture and a short bio of everyone. Normally she would have studied them to know about her guests beforehand but today she didn’t have the time to go into detail.

She turned the page to find Anthony Mackie next. She didn’t recognize him, but his face looked oddly familiar, she probably had seen him in a movie before or something. “And my third protégée is…”, she said, but before she could turn the page, she heard voices and steps coming towards the door. Just as she looked up, the door opened and a red-haired girl came in. “This is your dressing room for the next two days. And I would like to introduce you to your hostess for the weekend. She will take care of anything you’ll need and will guide you to your appointments”, the girl said as she stepped in and right behind her, three tall men walked in.

Anna stood up, straightened out her dress and when she looked up again, froze in her movements. “Gentlemen, this is…”, the red-haired girl said but got interrupted. “Anna”, Sebastian said and seemed just as surprised as she was. “Sebastian”, Anna said with big eyes. “You two know each other?”, Chris Evans asked surprised and his eyes wandered between the two of them. “Ehm…yes, we…ran into each other on the plane”, she said, internally panicking.

She made a step towards Chris to greet him, just concentrating on the person in front of her. “Hello, I’m Anna, nice to meet you”, she said and shook his hand, then Anthony Mackie’s and then stood in front of Sebastian. “Hi”, he said, shook her hand and held it a bit longer than necessary.

When Anna took a step back again, she took a deep breath then reached for her clipboard. This was a job, she had to be professional. And a big rule of being professional meant to have no personal relations with your guests, which she had broken already.

“From what I can see, we have a busy day ahead of us”, she said, scraping together all the professional hostess-experience she had. She just had to act like she had not seen Sebastian naked or going down on her between her thighs. Easy…not.

“The first thing today is…”, Anna said and looked at the event schedule. Of course. “A photo-op with Sebastian”, she said and shot a quick look at him before she looked down on the board in her hand again. “We will have to leave for that in about 10 minutes, but before, please help yourselves to some refreshments and settle in. I will be right back”, Anna said with a professional smile and with that the guys spread out across the room.

Before Sebastian could say anything to her, she turned to the girl still standing at the door. “Amber, right?”, she asked and the girl nodded. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”, she asked more out of politeness because she already dragged her out by the arm and closed the door behind her.

“Thank you for bringing them here. I just need to ask you where the hell I have to go for those photo-ops. I didn’t have time to study the maps and I don’t want to embarrass myself”, she said to Amber. Even more than I already did, she added in her head and listened carefully to what Amber told her and wrote everything down on her clipboard.

She actually just needed a good reason not to be in the same room as Sebastian for a moment to understand what just had happened.

When Amber left, Anna flicked through the pages and stopped at the printout of Sebastian. How could she not have known who she had slept with? The posters for the movie were everywhere and it was THE movie everyone was talking about. She felt so stupid. She could really only hope that Sebastian would behave and not make inappropriate comments or something stupid to throw her off. But from what she had experienced so far with him, her hopes weren’t high up.

She walked up and down in front of the door, taking deep breaths and tried to calm herself down. “Everything will be alright. I’m a professional, I am good at my job, I know what I’m doing”, she mumbled to herself, her fingers tightly gripping the clipboard in her hands. “He is just a client, a normal client…”, she tried to convince herself.

Anna looked at her phone and decided that it was time for the first photo-op of the day. She took a deep breath again and opened the door. “Sebastian, they’re ready for you. Please follow me”, she said with a bright, professional smile and held the door open for him. “I will see you gentlemen in about 30 minutes. If you need anything, someone is always around”, she said and waited for Sebastian to walk out and closed the door behind the two of them.

She started walking as quickly as her heels allowed her and from a quick look over her shoulder she saw that Sebastian had no trouble keeping up. “So you’re not gonna talk to me?”, he asked after a few moments of walking in silence. “Only work related”, she replied to him without turning around. “What about the universe and the sign? You’re words, not mine”, he said, his hands held up in a defensive motion and with a smug grin.

He caught up to her and was now walking very closely behind Anna. “That was before I knew you were a client”, she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. “The universe can be a bitch, huh?”, he asked with a chuckle but before Anna could say anything in return, they walked out to the general area and it was just too loud to talk.

A lot of fans recognized him but he didn’t have time to stop for autographs. Later at his booth he would have enough time to sign their pictures. Anna had to concentrate on the directions Amber had given her but luckily the way was well-signposted and they arrived there just a few minutes later.

A makeup-artist was already waiting for him to make him picture-ready. “Could you take special care of my eyes, I had a long night”, he asked the make-up lady. Although Anna was studying the schedule, she knew he was looking at her when he said it. She just rolled her eyes and concentrated on her work.

Anna saw that dozens of people were already lined-up in front of the booth as she peaked through the black curtain. It amazed her again how much work a lot of them had put into their costumes. Some of them were probably working months in preparation for this weekend and their opportunity to show it to their hero.

She felt a hand on her back and shot back up. “Excuse me, Miss, I have to get to my photo-op or my boss will be mad at me”, he said with an innocent voice and pushed past her way closer than he had to in this wide space. “I’m not your boss, I’m your hostess”, she snapped at him. “Who said I was talking about you?”, he whispered as he stood in front of her. She didn’t know what to say in return and the inhaled air got stock in her throat in lack of a witty answer. “But I was”, he mouthed with a wink as he took a step backwards and turned around just in time to go through the curtain. The crowd immediately started cheering and Sebastian greeted his fans.

The photo session started and Anna was surprised and impressed at how easy-going and relaxed he was with his fans. There was no pose or idea he didn’t do and he made everyone feel like they just had the best idea for a photo. She had to admit that it was very charming and immediately hated him for how adorable he was.

“Sorry for being late”, a big, black man appeared next to her. “I’m the security guard for the Civil War cast this weekend”, he added as he saw her questioning look. “Oh, sure. Hi, I’m Anna, I’m taking care of the Civil War cast for the weekend”, she introduced herself and stuck her hand out. “I’m Melvin, but you can call me Mel”, he shook her hand.

“Is this your first Wizard World or any kind of Con?”, he asked. “What gave me away?”, she asked with a shy smile. “Your shoes. You’re not gonna make it in them for long”, he explained and nodded at her shoes. “I already regret them”, she said and shifted her weight over to her other leg. “Where are you normally working at?”, he kept asking her.

“I’m a hostess for high profile guests in New York, mostly at club openings and vernissages…why?”, she added after she saw his look on her. “Oh nothing, I’m just making conversation”, he said with a shrug. “No, you’re not”, she said suspiciously. Melvin shrugged his shoulders again. “Mel, if we want us to get along on this weekend, you have to be honest with me”, she said with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You’re a bit overdressed”, he said, looking up and down her dress. She looked down herself. “What’s wrong with my dress?”, she asked insecurely. “It’s way too much. All staff around here is dressed in jeans and a black shirt”, he explained to her. Anna remembered Susans clothes when she’d picked her up just an hour ago. Jeans and black shirt.

She looked around her. The make-up lady, Melvin, the photographer, the woman who controlled the amount of people for every photo. All of them were wearing pants and a black shirt. Shit!

“Great, now I feel weird”, she said with a huff and pouted. “Maybe you’ll find time to change later”, he suggested, also watching Sebastian at his photo session, probably ready to jump in when needed, but everyone behaved perfectly. “I should, shouldn’t I?”, she asked. “Yeah”, Melvin nodded and then they both watch the action in front of them in silence.

A few minutes before Sebastians time was over, she walked back to her assigned dressing room, leaving Sebastian in Melvins care to collect Chris Evans and Anthony Mackie for their photo-ops, which would be held at almost the same time in two separate booths next to each other.

After that they had other photo-ops with all kinds of combinations of the three of them. Then they were waiting for the other Marvel stars that were invited to the convention for group shots

As the four of them stood around behind the photo booth, Anna showed Chris his scheduled appointments on her printouts. “Since those two overlap, I will ask Amber to take Anthony and Sebastian and I will go with you”, she told him. She tried to make it sound casual and perfectly normal to put someone else in charge of Sebastian, and Anthony for that matter.

“Look at that poor woman, you’re boring her”, Anthony said to Chris as Anna unsuccessfully tried to hide her yawn. “Oh no, I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night”, she apologized and avoided to look at Sebastian as she talked. “Oh no, what happened?”, Sebastian asked with an innocent voice. “I had a problem with a little creature keeping me up all night”, Anna said. She as well could play this game.

“Was it a spider? I hate spiders”, Chris said and pulled a face. “Well, I don’t think it was that little if it kept you up all night”, Sebastian countered, looking at her with a cheeky grin and a smug look on his face. “I don’t think they’re talking about spiders, Chris”, Anthony said and started to follow the verbal exchange with growing interest.

“Small enough to be annoying”, she replied and leaned her head to her side, narrowing her eyes that said bring-it-on. “It looks like it still wrecked you up pretty hard”, Sebastian shot back with his arms crossed in front of his chest, still grinning like he was sure that he would win this.

Sebastian and Anna didn’t even realize that Chris and Anthony had stopped talking and were listening closely to their back-and-forth. “It sounds like the two have history…more than just a flight. So wherever they’re going, I’m going”, Anthony said with his hands resting on his hips and a big smile spread across his face.

“We don’t have history”, Anna said determined as she got ripped out of Sebatians stare by Anthonys words. “Well…kinda”, Sebastian said with a devilish grin, his head leaned to the right. “No”, Anna denied it again and shot him an angry look. She looked back down at her clipboard to distract herself. “Oh, I’m definitely going with them”, Anthony said and was grinning like a child on Christmas.

“We’re here, we’re here”, Susan arrived behind the curtain. Behind her Hayley Atwell, Dominic Cooper and Stanley Tucci. “Thank god”, came out louder than Anna had intended. “Okay, we’re not that late”, Susan said with furrowed brows and playfully put her hands up in defense. “No, no…forget it”, Anna said and walked up to her. “I’m…just happy to see you again”, she quickly said.

“How’s it going so far?”, Susan asked her with a lower tone while their guests started to greet each other and get into conversation. “It’s good, we seem to be on time so far, but you know…”, Anna shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, it’ll be just fine. I really gotta say, you got a fine group of men to look after”, Susan said and wiggled her eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t notice”, Anna said and looked down to hide her blushing face. “Are you blind?”, Susan asked with a big laugh which caused a few people around them to look at the two women, including Sebastian. He shot her a questioning look but she ignored it.

“That brown-haired one is really cute”, Susan said and nodded towards Sebastian. “Who? Sebastian?”, Anna asked and blushed again. “Sebastian…a cute name. I like saying his name…Sebastian”, Susan said in a saucy tone. It’s even better when you scream it, shot through Annas mind and she quickly shook her head to get rid of that inappropriate and certainly not helpful comment by her subconscious.

“Does the word ‘professional’ mean anything to you?”, Anna asked her with a pulled up eyebrow. “Oh, I’m just joking, Anna. You know I’m married”, she said laughing and held her left hand up. “Happily?”, Anna asked, also starting to giggle. “I wouldn’t go that far”, Susan said and the next second both of them had to laugh out loud.

“Hey, hey, ladies having fun and I’m not even close by, how is that possible?”, Anthony Mackie came over to the two. “Aren’t you cute”, Susan said. “Well, I try. You’re not too bad yourself”, Anthony winked at her and gave her his best flirting look. “Ooh, I like that one”, Susan said to Anna. “I like you too, darling”, he said and playfully hugged her. The scene was so weird and funny at the same time that Anna didn’t know what to do expect to laugh.

The photographer interrupted the scene when he called for Anthony and the others for the big group pictures.

All in all, the photo-ops of Annas clients took over 3 hours and she was exhausted just from watching them smile and pose all the time. She released everyone for a late and quick lunch break and told them they would meet back at their dressing room in about 30 minutes.

Anna would use this break to change her clothes. She had to admit she felt uncomfortable being so overdressed, she felt like an outsider since this was already her first comic-themed convention. But first she would need another cup of coffee. The lack of sleep was more and more undeniable but she had to have a clear head to keep control of herself around Sebastian. Seeing him with his fans and his friends and how lovely he was with all of them definitely didn’t make him more appalling.

Anna went over to the catering area that was for the guests and employees only, right next to the employees’ area with all the offices. She just wanted to quickly grab a cup of coffee and head back to Susans office, where her suitcase was, to change her outfit.

In the catering area, they had built a little coffee lounge with a bar and places to sit. She had to wait in line a few minutes before she could place her order. While she waited, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that someone was leaning against the bar. Close enough to make her suspicious but leaving enough space to not draw attention to them. This could only mean one thing.

“What do you want?”, she asked with an annoyed voice, still looking for the barista and mentally begging her to hurry up. She just wanted a few minutes alone, time away from him to gather her thoughts and get back into her normal professional work-self, but it seemed that that would be too much to ask. “Hey beautiful”, Sebastian said with a smirk. “I just wanted to say that I’m really happy to have you as my hostess”, he said and he sounded so sincere that she couldn’t help but look at him, just to check if his facial expression would match his tone. “Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you”, she said and for a second felt like she was doing him wrong all along.

“If you’ve never been to an event like this, there’s so much we could do…or I could do to you”, he said and during the last part, he spoke with a lower and lusty tone, one eye brow raised. There it was again. Just when she thought they could have a normal, work-related conversation, he pulled out his sex voice. And if someone knew what that sounded like then it was Anna.

“I don’t think there’s much left you didn’t do to me”, she said with a low voice, just so no one would hear them. He looked at her with a playful grin before he leaned over to her ear and whispered, “I didn’t do you from behind…yet”. He then pushed himself off the bar and just walked away. Anna was left with a surprised face. “Your coffee, Miss”, the barista said and ripped Anna out of her shocked state.

“Thank you”, she mumbled, grabbed the cup and with quick steps, walked towards the office area. She shook her head in disbelief of what she had just heard and didn’t watch where she was going. The next moment, a young, short woman with short black hair ran into her and pushed the arm Anna was holding her cup of coffee with towards Annas body. The lit of the cup sprung open and the coffee went all over her dress and shoes. “JESUS CHRIST!”, slipped out of Annas mouth as she felt the liquid drain her dress. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry”, the woman said with big eyes and a shocked expression on her face. Anna shook her arms to get some coffee off her.

“It’s…alright, I was about to go change anyways”, she said looking down on the mess this woman had made. “I’m so sorry, I will pay for dry cleaning”, she said and looked like she was about to cry. “Really, it’s okay, don’t worry about it”, Anna reassured her with her arms stretched out to keep her from coming closer and to calm her down. “It’s alright”, she said and patted her shoulder as she walked away with quick steps and threw the now half empty cup into the next trash can.

“Jesus Christ”, she mumbled with an annoyed huff as she felt the wet dress sticking to her body as she walked. She was glad she was alone in that corridor so she wouldn’t get anymore weird looks than she already did out in the catering area.

Anna reached Susans office and stepped in. Her suitcase was in the back corner and she should have a black blouse somewhere in there she could wear and not look so pretentious with her dress and heels like Melvin pointed out. Just as she wanted to bend down to open her suitcase, she heard the door open and close again. Susan must have seen what had happened out there and wanted to check if she needed anything.

“Hey, I’m alright, I’ll be ready in just a…”, Annas words got stuck in her throat when she saw who was standing in front of the closed door. “Thought you might needed some help unzipping that dress”, Sebastian said with a devilish grin and crossed arms in front of his chest.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, she asked surprised and angry at the same time. “I wanted to see if you’re okay”, he said in a normal voice. “It’s coffee, not the end of the world”, she bluffed at him. “I wanted to change my clothes anyway”, she added in a calmer voice, realizing how paranoid and crazy she sounded. Maybe he really just wanted to check on her.

“Then let me help you with that zipper”, he said with a low voice, licking his lips. Or not, she thought to herself.

“You need to leave, this is the staff area, you’re not supposed to be back here”, she told him. Anna walked up to him to guide him out of the door, but with a quick movement he spun her around and pinned her against the door, her facing towards it. He quickly locked it and put his hand up on either side of her head, caging her in her position.

Anna didn’t dare to say something; the sexual tension in the room could be cut with a knife. She felt how Sebastian slightly pressed himself against her, which caused her to close her eyes for a second to calm her breathing, but it didn’t work. Having him that close again triggered something in her that made her want him more than ever. Thoughts about last night spun around in her head, almost making her moan out lout.

She supported herself with her hands pressed onto the door in front of her. For some reason she didn’t dare to turn around.

Sebastian started to slowly unzip her dress in the back all the way down and peeled if off her shoulders. Anna automatically slipped her arms out of the sleeves, so he pulled it down to her waist.

“Did I tell you that I like your hair better when it’s open…more to hold on to”, he whispered behind her and pulled her hair out of the bun and the hair-tie down. Her long brown hair fell down over her bare back and Anna inhaled loudly. “It came up”, she said with a shaky voice and swallowed hard, remembering how he had let down her hair last night in her hotel room. She hated herself that he made her feel that way…again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”, he whispered next to her ear, pressing himself against her back. She swallowed hard. “Yes”, she breathed out. “Tell me where you want it?”, he asked. She took a deep breath. “Everywhere”, she whispered and moaned out loud as he pulled her head back at her hair with a tight grip until it dropped onto his shoulder. He then started kissing her shoulder up her neck, licking and biting her skin. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth not to make any sound.

His 3 day scruff scratched her skin lightly and gave her goose-bumps all over her body. She intuitively stuck her ass out and met with Sebastians pelvis. Through the fabric of her dress she could feel that this situation also left some marks on him and that mark was poking her right butt cheek.

“I want you”, she moaned out, not able to control what came out of her mouth. Instead of a witty response, he let his right hand slide from her side over to her stomach and down to where the dress was resting on her hips. He stopped only for a second before he let his hand slide under the fabric of her dress down to the waistband of her panties.

Anna pressed herself further against Sebastian to give him easier access. His fingers slid into her panties and he sighed at her neck as he felt how wet she was. “I can feel how much you want me”, he moaned against her skin. Anna instinctively started to grind against his fingers in her pants.

“Sadly, we have to postpone this. We’re still at work, honey”, he whispered at her shoulder and with a sudden movement, pulled his fingers all the way back. Just as Anna wanted to protest, he bit down on her shoulder and left a bright red mark.

“Now we both have a bite-mark on our shoulders”, he said to her with a wink and the next second was out of the office. Anna was standing there, panting heavily and rubbed over the bitten flesh on her shoulder. She thought back to last night when she had bitten his shoulder when she was coming for the third time that night. She hadn’t even noticed that she had left a mark on him but somehow it made her smile. It was kind of arousing to know that he had something that reminded him of their night together.

After a quick look at the clock on the wall, Anna realized that the lunch break was almost over. This little intermezzo had lasted longer that she had thought. She had no time to think any further about it and quickly changed her coffee drained dress and shoes to her pair of jeans and a black blouse that was maybe showing a bit too much cleavage, but she didn’t have anything else. She also changed to her pair of sneakers because she couldn’t walk another feet on heels.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

whose brow is laid in thorn (chapter five)

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Sorry this took so long! Online teaching is...well...

Huge thanks to my wonderful friends/betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian who are so endlessly supportive and wonderful.

Please reblog! Please leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Caleb watches his prince flounder through this war he didn't start and, as things go from bad to worse, he  realises the only way he can truly help him.

TW: I feel like the mentions of violence increase in this chapter. I mean, Lorenzo's here now. so. you know.

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The forests were as silent as they had been the last time Caleb went through them. A fierce wind was whistling out on the moors and there was even some snow on the air just beyond their close knit embrace but, under the thick canopy, it was as if it didn’t exist. It was as if the world didn’t exist. The bitter air and slate grey clouds, it had all been swallowed by the leaves and the bark.

Caleb remembered how they’d swallowed his sobs the same way, the last time he had passed through here.

He stroked his horse’s neck as he rose further up in the saddle to look ahead through the trees. Though he hated leading Mollymauk’s side, his prince had insisted he be part of the scouts, saying he had the best eyes in the company. And anything Caleb could do to help right now, he would not leave it undone. They couldn’t afford to.

It was peaceful, at least. He had lost the hour in the silence, it was all just darkness and quiet and the beat of his own heart in his lungs. Even his horse’s hooves made no noise in the soft forest floor, carpeted in moss and pine needles. He would never have even known an entire company of armed warriors shared these trees with him. He could have been the only person on the planet.

Which meant no threats in sight as well, nothing his eyes or ears could pick up even in the stillness. Caleb cast a searching spell forward just to be sure but the only sparks of life were the nests in the boughs up above and a family of foxes curled up in their den. No hidden enemies to speak of. Not a hidden archer in the leaves or a sword wielding scout behind a trunk.

Which, inexplicably, didn’t sit well with Caleb. 

He frowned and passed a hand over his horse’s neck again, to comfort the animal and, partly, to comfort himself. Unease had settled heavily in the bottom of his stomach on the very first day they’d ridden out from Asarius, a weight that had only grown as this campaign went on.

They’d all flashed so prettily in the sun that day, as the light had caught and turned to red silk pennants on the tips of their spears, Mollymauk in a suit of plate enamelled in purple and looking more a god than a prince, though a god that stopped to wink at maidens and accept flowers from their hands, who ruffled the hair of children who ran alongside their column, who passed jokes back and forth with common tradesmen. It had been more like a fair than a force riding out to war, Molly had known his role and he’d played it well. Caleb must have looked like a sour spirit, haunting his left shoulder all in black, but something had just felt so wrong that day and it felt no better now, a week on.

He sighed, his breath misting in the damp air. No one but a Volstruker would be morose at not meeting a single enemy yet.

Maybe it was just being here that put the tension in his stomach. This was the path they’d taken back into the empire ten years ago, after his...his disgrace. The word didn’t come to him as easily as it one had, the shame wasn’t so quick to rise. It was an old misery he felt, the memory of the loss and despair, how it had opened a pit inside his younger self to think he’d never see Mollymauk ever again. He ached for that young wizard, in pain and confused and so scared, chained in the back of a cart and bouncing painfully along to a fate he didn’t want to imagine waiting for him in Rexxantrum, crying to a love that couldn’t hear him and trees that paid no mind.

He deserved it, a voice that sounded like a whip crack hissed in the back of his mind, curling Caleb’s lip, he deserved that awful fate.

But the voice was distant, like it wasn’t coming from inside him but behind him. Caleb swallowed down a faint taste of bile and answered it vaguely it certainly was an awful fate. That would satisfy it for now.

He was getting better at it. Feeding the thoughts that had been placed inside him to fester and grow, giving them just enough and no more, aware of the distance between them and his own. It was a difficult game, one that could hurt him very easily, one he had to play with steady hands and cautious nature. Two things that Volstruker training had, fortunately, gifted him with.

Caleb took a deep lungful of the air and thought of that boy again, weeping softly and steadily in the back of that cart, unable to stop no matter how many blows his tears earned him. Unwilling to stop.

I’m getting better at it, he promised the boy.

Caleb patted his horse’s neck and turned back towards the column. He’d seen enough.

The tents had sprouted up like strange canvas mushrooms under the shelter of the trees. Good, flat ground was scarce so they were more scattered than Caleb would have liked, clusters of them growing together rather than as one cohesive unit. Too much space for any intruder to thread through and reach the heart of the camp.

But the tents were already coming down as he rode hard back through the outer ring of defences, the company waking up to begin another day of marching. Perhaps there would be better ground up ahead. Perhaps they would finally break through the trees.

And what would be waiting for them when they did?

No one called out to Caleb as he dismounted by the hastily strung up horse paddock, no one offered a greeting or asked about his ranging. Soldiers merely talked around him, laughing and joking and grumbling to each other as they woke up and rubbed the sleep from their eyes, acting if he wasn’t there. Caleb didn’t mind, he was used to it and there was no real malice in their disengagement. Something about his black uniform of office and the rumours that clung to it turned idle conversation away, it was the whole point of wearing it. That was the whole point of being Volstruker.

“Rest now, Frumpkin,” he murmured softly to his horse, patting their neck, “I need to go make my report but I’ll come back and see you get a good rub down before we have to set off.”

“Gods, you’re not still calling the poor animal that name, are you?”

Caleb turned to see Beau leaning against one of the posts hastily driven into the forest floor, smirking at him. She was dressed in a cold weather version of her usual monk robes, more parts reinforced with leather for better protection. No one was taking any risks on this campaign but it was still strange to see the old friends he’d last known as children dressed for war.

He was glad they hadn’t had to grow up as quickly as he did, that they could still be considered too young for this.

“Why would I call him anything else?” Caleb answered smoothly, “It’s his name.”

“One of the finest horses I’ve seen come out of the palace’s stables and you saddle him with a name like Frumpkin. It’s an insult.”

The corner of Caleb’s mouth twitched into a smile that he dampened. He didn’t need to smile around Beau, he never had. She’d always taken him as he was and was the first of them all to slip back into doing so after he’d come back. While the others were still unsure how to fit him back into the place the old Caleb had occupied in their lives, Beau was cursing him and scowling at him and punishing him in the training yard like she always had done. Perhaps it was easier when what you had wasn’t the conventional idea of being friendly.

Whatever the reason, Caleb was grateful for it.

“Thank you for keeping him for me all these years,” he said quietly, putting a gentle hand on the horse’s flank.

“Stubborn beast wouldn’t take anyone but you,” Beau shrugged, “Like rider, like horse, it’s the same as ever.”

Caleb grunted, “Where’s the prince?”

“In the command tent,” Beau rolled her eyes as she said it and for good reason. The idea of the Mollymauk they all knew in charge of armed soldiers was absurd, however good the act he’d been putting on for everyone else was, “Anything to see out there?”

“Nothing,” Caleb said, “Nothing but the wildlife whose homes we’re trampling through.”

“I’m starting to think the Jagenoths keep their brains in their damn swords,” Beau frowned, “Did they seriously send out an invading army but didn’t think to put at least some force on the borders?”

“The Jagenoths don’t,” Caleb said, voice flat and serious, “And they wouldn’t.”

“So we’re missing something,” Beau followed the thread of his thoughts easily and liked it no more than he had.

“We are. And we will not be ready for it when it comes.”

With that grim assessment, he began walking through the croppings of tents, making for the one at the centre with the royal standard looking rather forlorn outside it’s entrance, no wind to lift it. Caleb did not want to scare his friends and doubt his prince but his strategic mind was in despair at everything he saw around him. They were nearly as short on weaponry as they were the hands to wield them, food as the mouths to eat it, the bulk of the royal army’s resources having gone with the king to meet the main Jagenoth force.

Or, as it appeared at the moment, the only Jagenoth force. Caleb would have loved to believe that.

He’d wanted to be back before his prince woke up but he’d not been sleeping well and was already up and at his desk when Caleb ducked under the flap. When Molly saw him standing there framed in predawn light, the frustration and helplessness in his red rimmed eyes eased into relief. He knew he didn’t need to pretend in front of Caleb.

“It’s good to see you back,” he exhaled, “Any news?”

“Nothing,” Caleb put his hands behind his back, standing tall and drawn, “The forest ahead is clear, no sign of any enemy out postings or even anything to suggest a large group of armed soldiers are approaching from the border. No smoke, no hoofprints, not so much as a flattened fern.”

Molly frowned, setting down his quill, “The border? How far did you ride out, Caleb?”

“Three hours out, your majesty.”

Molly groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Gods, Caleb, that's so far. If you’d gotten into trouble, no one would have seen your signal, you’d have been on your own!”

“If I had the enemy would be down as many as they’d seen fit to set against me,” Caleb said evenly, “And we would know more about what they are planning than we do know.”

Molly didn’t seem to think that justified the risk, still frowning down at the map in front of him, eyes tracing the path Caleb must have taken on his scouting run.

“Just...don’t do it again. Please. I know we’ve not run into any trouble yet but if the first time we did was you getting hurt or...just don’t, please.”

Caleb felt a stab of guilt, not the sort that came from disappointing a liege he was sworn to or disobeying an order, the deeper sort that came from causing a friend to worry.

“I’m sorry. It just frustrates me, still knowing so little about what they’re planning. We should have at least met border patrols by now, if the Jagenoths are half of what they’re rumoured to be. If Lorenzo truly is at their head.”

Molly grimaced, standing and moving to where his armour waited on the stand by the cot he slept on. He always waited until the very last moment to put it on while simultaneously knowing he couldn’t let any of their soldiers see him without it. Before long the captains of the night guard would be coming to give him reports and he’d run out of time to move freely and breathe comfortably.

If they saw him without the gilded plate and the glittering swords, they might remember that they were being led by their scandal sodden rake of a prince. That act had kept Mollymauk going after Caleb had been taken from him, it had been all he’d had through his darkest moments. And now it had to be packed away like a winter coat in spring, now its absence was all that kept this company together.

He was doing his best to hide it from their friends but the nakedness Molly felt without it, the vulnerability, was painted across his face when it was just the two of them.

“Perhaps their bloodlust has made them stupid. Perhaps this isn’t an invasion at all, just a tithe taking. Perhaps all Lorenzo wants to see is my father’s head on a bloody pike.”

Caleb winced internally at the defeat in his voice, “Your highness…”

“Caleb, I just…” Molly shook his head, the frantic, panicked edge fading from his voice, “I’m under no illusions about what will happen when we finally do encounter enemy forces. Let me have every moment until then. And...gods, please don’t let it be you in their way.”

Caleb exhaled, finally bowing his head, “As you wish.”

There was a long moment as Molly held his lobstered gauntlets in his hands, staring down at them like he was holding hands with a stranger. He was clearly rolling something around in his mouth, words he wanted to say but couldn’t. Caleb merely waited, patient.

“Has it been getting better?” his prince eventually murmured, pitching his voice lower as if Caleb’s intrusive thoughts were a physical presence with malicious ears, “The avoidance strategies, have they been helpful? I did worry coming through here again might be difficult for you.”

Caleb softened, managing a smile even as he still had to answer carefully, “I have found the last few days more comfortable than I expected.”

And he wasn’t lying. Feeling pity for the boy he’d been, as painful as it was to remember that hurt, it was so much better than hating him. It was such a delicate business but having Mollymauk quietly cheering for him, listening to him as he tried to work out what sentences were acceptable and what would make his old wounds throb with remembered pain, holding him when he slipped and stepping back when the intrusive thoughts roared too loud to allow Caleb any comfort.

In some ways, the close proximity of the camp, so much more intimate than that castle with its stone memories, was a blessing. Not many ways, but some.

“I’m pleased, Caleb,” Molly turned away from the armour and smiled back at him, expecting nothing, just genuine in his relief, “Help me into this damnable oven of an outfit?”

“Of course,” Caleb stepped forward gladly. If any part of him were to wonder why he took so much comfort and delight in being close to Mollymauk, he would answer it smoothly and confidently. He was Volstuker, why would he not hasten to armour his prince and be certain that he was as closely protected as possible?  

Why would his heart not quicken as he slide a shirt of fine mail over Molly’s head, so carefully and deftly making sure it didn’t catch on his horns, as he sank down on one knee to carefully lace each fitted plate into place, working from the ground up until they were nose to nose?

Molly cleared his throat as they realised neither had spoken for some time, that silence had settled in now the sounds of metal scraping on metal had silenced. He fixed a playful smile onto his face, “Now, go tend that horse of yours. If you went that far before the sun’s even in the sky, you must have ridden poor Frumpkin hard. After everything that poor boy does for you, keeping his head high with a name like that.”

Caleb chuckled, a brighter sound than any he’d made all morning, “The name suits him, as I’ve told you all plenty of times…”

Molly nudged him gently towards the tent door, grinning, “It’s very you, I’ll give you that. I’ll see you when we ride out.”

Caleb gave him a quick bow in answer, striding back out into the gathering dawn. His stomach felt lighter than it had since he woke.

The days crept by with a maddening slowness as they skirted along the border of the kingdom. It was the same flat, barren landscape with it’s cropped dark grass and those black mountains in the distance cutting a ragged edge on the grey sky. It was impossible to tell what thin, pebbled soil was theirs and what was the Empire’s, the bleak sameness of the landscape doing little to honour the people who’d shed blood to forge it centuries ago.

Caleb wondered why all his training had neglected to mention that war was an awful lot of tedious plodding forward.

They poured over maps, they talked in the command tent long into the small hours of what would have been the morning if any of them had any concept of time anymore, debating in endless circles what the Jagenoths were planning, how the king was faring, what to do next. Molly would listen, unafraid to look exhausted and worn down in front of his friends, and eventually bring his hand down on the table for silence and give them the same, flat answer. They would do exactly as they were instructed. They would push on until they either met his father’s forces flush with victory or discovered their corpses mouldering in the dirt.

Birds would take wing, messages would be ferried along by magic, the same report would fly every day. And every day there would be no answer.

Caleb could tell Mollymauk felt abandoned. But he also knew it wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling to his prince.

Not that it made watching him go through this any easier. In fact, it was more of a sting, as Caleb would sit by Molly’s cot and stroke his heaving shoulders as he twitched and moaned through more nightmares. That he was having to go through this at the king’s command, after everything he’d done to him. That there was so little Caleb could do.

That same sense of frustration and helplessness drove him on that night, scouting again. He moved quickly over the short bursts of open ground, keeping low to Frumpkin’s neck and trusting his magic, his horse’s dark coat and his uniform to keep him cloaked in the shadows. When in the smatterings of trees, he walked him slow and steady, knowing the damage a hoof or boot crunching down on a stick at just the wrong angle could do. Moving like that, he very quickly lost sight of the company behind him, lost their slow creeping mass and the lights of the outer torches over a rise in the landscape.

Before too long, it was him, the wind and what stars could be glimpsed through the clouds. The whole plain seemed to open out, something inside him itching at the thought of the answers that could lie out there beyond the next rise of shadow. All he would need was a glimpse, one raiding party, one enemy torch in the distance, one footprint in the grass to tell him who had passed this way and when.

Caleb felt a tug in his chest and remembered his promise to Mollymauk. He’d reached the outer limit of what could reasonably be expected of him as a scout, more than halfway through the time his ride was supposed to take. If he went any further, he would be coming back after dawn and it would be impossible to hide the fact that he’d disobeyed. If he really pushed it, he would have to camp out here or risk Frumpkin coming up lame.

But then he would think of the exhaustion in Mollymauk’s eyes, the way his shoulders slumped when he turned to his armour and faced another day of wearing this personality that didn’t fit him. He would think of his prince, his friend, crying hoarsely into his pillow and not hearing Caleb as he tried to comfort him, sounding for all the world like a lost child unable to understand why his father had left him behind.

Caleb took a long slow breath of cold night air and pressed his heels into Frumpkin’s side, urging him forward. Just a little further, he would return just shy of dawn. After all, his only promise to Molly, technically, was that his blood wouldn’t be the first spilled. And if his training was worth anything, it wouldn’t be.

More bursts of frantic speed across the hills bracketed by near silent creeping through copses of trees. Caleb poured all of his energy into his senses, hearing everything from a mouse skittering down by Frumpkin’s hooves to an owl’s call from high above his head, seeing every shift in the texture of the darkness around him, even smelling deeply to try and pick out the sour scent of unwashed solider from the bite of night air. If he was going to disappoint Mollymauk, he would at least be as careful as possible.

Hours slipped by unnoticed, he lost himself in the glut of information flooding through him and the regular rhythm of his ride. It was tasks like this that brought him the most peace, when he could fully give himself over to his magic, float along through repetition and the hard drag of air in his lungs, when he could feel purposeful while disengaging entirely from the tangled magpie’s nest that was his brain. Times like this, Caleb could remember why he’d always had this ravenous hunger for magic, why he’d loved it so much.

He remembered why he’d fallen prey to Ikithon so easily.

But right now, it was his and no one else's. He was pushing forward to save his home, to help his prince.

The border with the Empire was the clean kind, the neatly cut kind formed by politics rather than geography. With the land changing so little, the only reason Caleb realised how far he’d actually gone was when the sky shifted from black to the hazy grey of dawn.

Guilt stabbed through him at the sight, the only thing in hours that had jolted him out of his razor sharp focus. He brought Frumpkin to a halt in the middle of a collection of trees that couldn’t even be called a wood, only now realising how his poor horse was breathing hard underneath him. He patted his neck, pulled an apple from one of his many pockets and murmured softly, knowing that Mollymauk and his friends wouldn’t be so easy to forgive him. They must be worried sick about him, he was meant to be back at camp hours ago and it would be half a day yet before they knew he was okay.

He couldn’t hear the whip crack, not quite, but his scars prickled with a heat the cold morning couldn’t possibly hold and there was a sharp echo reverberating between his ears.  

Cursing himself for a fool, Caleb slid from the saddle, pulling the aches and strains he felt closer rather than pushing them away and knowing he deserved to feel every one. He pulled his water skin out from the saddle bags, letting it trickle out in a steady stream so Frumpkin could drink first, their breaths misting in the clammy dawn.

“I am a pig headed idiot, Frumpkin,” he sighed, pushing fingers through his horse’s mane, “All this effort and I don’t even have anything to show for it. I was just so certain…”

Just as he was about to rest his forehead against Frumpkin’s nose and let himself have a moment of self pity before getting back into the saddle, he felt something shift on the very edges of his magic. It was like seeing a shadow flicker in the corner of your eye, a second’s movement that threw everything off balance but was so hard to catch.

But there was very little faster than Caleb. He’d been through Volstruker training twice.

He left Frumpkin to crop at the carpet of leaves underneath them, moving forward on foot. All doubt, all emotion of any kind was locked down tight as he broke through the tree line and slunk forward in the direction of that single vibrating thread. It led him forward, over to the next ridge, though the closer he got the more some instinct pressed him down further into the shadows until he was crawling on his belly to peer into the bowl of the hills.

And when he saw what was cradled there, hidden down where it would be hidden from any view but the one Caleb now had, made him glad he’d hidden. What he saw was an army.

Not a raiding party. Not a band of cutthroats sent to harry the border towns. Not a company like theirs. He saw a full, broiling Jagenoth army. He saw racks of arms ready to slice the air in two, along with whatever stood in their way. He saw mercenaries with smiles as dangerous as the swords at their hips. He saw slavers, spearmen, archers, crossbowmen, rank upon rank of soldiers who fought at their masters command. He saw twice, three times, four times their own numbers and, in the middle of all of them, a standard that was rarely seen outside of Shady Creek Run but, when it was, brought blood and terror.

And, out at the edge, where no eyes but his own would see it, he saw a collection of black clad figures sparring against each other with blows that even from here looked brutal, the weapons they trained with had real edges on them. The smell of magic that came off them was thick and smoky like gunpowder, though heavily masked. Masked to everyone but those whose own skin reeked of it.

They were Volstruker.

Caleb felt no surprise, he was sunk too deeply into battle mode for that. He simply inhaled slowly and steadily, very deliberately not looking for any familiarity in the way they moved and struck out. Another moment to make sure he’d catalogued absolutely everything that lay before him while feeling absolutely nothing, then he slipped back down the hillside. Back to Frumpkin, kicking himself into the saddle and riding out without another moment’s pause.

He had to get back to his prince, his friends. He had to tell them their doom lay less than a day’s ride away.

Mollymauk’s hair ached deep at the roots by the time he heard those hoofbeats, the ones he knew immediately belonged to Caleb.

He hadn’t allowed the camp to break, insisting they stay exactly where Caleb would know to find them, refusing them even an inch until he was back and safe. Later, he would realise that his fit of pique had earned them all another day to live.

But not that moment. That moment had been nothing but relief as he’d pushed past Yasha and burst out of the command tent, seeing a lathered, wrung out Frumpkin drawing to a halt right in the centre of camp. An equally exhausted Caleb slid from the saddle, thin shoulders heaving and wiping spit from his cheek. He came down so heavy that Beau had to jump forward and catch him, barely keeping him on his feet.

Molly couldn’t even muster any anger, it was just joy to have him whole and back in the fold of his protection. He ran up and took him from Beau, gripping his shoulders tight, and grinning like a fool.

“Thank all the gods, Caleb! You must have ridden halfway across the kingdom, look at you! Come in, we need to get you something warm to eat, I-”

His mildly frantic relief died as soon as he saw Caleb’s eyes. Even as the rest of him was exhausted and ragged, his eyes were alert and hard like chips of ice.

“Molly,” his voice was low so it wouldn’t carry amongst the tents, to the many eyes that were on them, warily curious as to why the prince’s Volstruker had been gone all night, “We need to talk.”

Once inside the tent, Caleb wouldn’t so much as look at the broth Caduceus was determined he drank, standing stiffly in the centre with his hands wrapped around the bowl. Molly searched him up and down for any signs of injury but the only thing that was troubling him was clearly the weight he carried behind his eyes.

“Your father will ride out to the north and find nothing. The Jagenoth army is here, every man of them not a day's ride from where we sit. Lorenzo’s standard flew outside of the largest tent, though I didn’t see him personally. Their numbers outstrip ours by far and they are better outfitted, by what I could see in the torchlight. I’d estimate just below ten thousand warriors, a third of them mounted, another third with some kind of long range weapon. And…”

He seemed to steel himself, something like shame creeping into his eyes, “They have Volstruker. Five of them by my count.”

His words drew soft curses, widened eyes, stiffened shoulders as the shock rippled outwards. But Mollymauk turned inside himself and found nothing, only a bleak kind of amusement. It seems your pet monsters have gotten loose, Father. I hope it tastes bitter.

Caleb bulled on before any of them could ask him how he was feeling about that, “We have no hope of defeating them in battle and we are too close to skirt them. Our only hope is to turn now and ride hard back to the capital or even try and make it to the King’s army. Even then, we will still be short of numbers and exhausted but it is all we have.”

“We can’t lead them back to the city,” Caduceus shook his head, usually placid face tight with anxiety, “It is practically undefended and full of innocents.”

“Without that option, we have nowhere to run even if we do manage to get clear,” Yasha’s voice was tense, “And if they catch us in a full retreat…”

“It would be a bloodbath,” Beau finished shortly, her arms folded so tight it was like she was embracing herself and trying to give some comfort.

“A bloodbath from the rear or a bloodbath from the front,” Fjord snorted, tapping his foot as he always did when he was stressed, “Those are our choices, then?”

“Is there any way to get a message to the king?” Yasha’s brow furrowed as she thought, unused to being trapped in situations she couldn’t maneuver herself out of either with her mind or her greatsword, “Surely he’ll have noticed by now that he’s riding to meet an enemy that isn’t there?”

“His Volstruker will have some kind of magical manipulation to bait him on,” Caleb’s voice was still flat, even when he spoke of people who were supposed to be his, “An illusion or a mirage of some sort, torches in the distance, flattened land to suggest they are withdrawing perhaps . And you can be sure any messages we send out will be noticed from this close, as powerful as they are. Even if we could, there would be no time for his forces to reach us.”

“Then why didn’t they notice you?” Beau countered tightly, “If you got that close? If these are your people, isn’t there some secret way you know that can take them down?”

“I know the same tricks they do,” an edge of emotion entered his words now, a tension that threatened to snap, “I know the same magics. But I am only one against five, weaker than they are into the bargain, less firm in my faith. I am not enough.”

“That’ll do.”

Molly spoke for the first time, voice calm and commanding the way he’d been practising since he was a child. He rose from his camp chair, drawing every eye to him, trying to stand tall enough to shoulder their fears and doubts.

“I’ve made my decision. We are going to ride out and we are going to meet this army.”

“My prince, there is no way-” Yasha started to say but Molly shook his head.

“We’re not going to give battle, not at first. I’m going to do the one damn thing I’ve ever been good at with this job. I’m going to call for parley and I’m going to talk to Lorenzo. Whatever rotten deal my father made that has gotten us into this mess, maybe there’s something I can offer the Jagenoths that will make it right again. Gold or wardship or...or a marriage contract with some Dwendalian countess, I don’t know…”

He daren’t look up at Caleb in the beat of cold, heavy silence that followed those words.

“But there will be a price and that price may not necessarily be blood.”

There was a collective intake of breath, whether it was admiration or despair Molly daren’t ask.

“And...if Lorenzo isn’t the type to be bartered with, your highness?” Yasha asked evenly, letting the ‘which you know he isn’t’ go unsaid but lie underneath her words.

Molly hardened his eyes and gripped the swords at his sides, “Then we take as many as we can down to hell with us. Every Jagenoth that falls will be one less to threaten our city walls. Caleb?”

“Yes?” his friend sounded so much further away than the tent would allow.

“If it comes to that, your job is to kill Lorenzo. Not to take out the other Volstruker, not to protect me. If we must fight, he does not walk off that battlefield alive, understand?”

He wasn’t used to ordering Caleb around, the words felt sour on his tongue as did the silence that followed. It was only a moment, barely a heartbeat, but from a man that had been trained to obey it was an eternity that very clearly showed his upset.

But finally, his Volstruker murmured, “I understand, my prince.”

“Thank you,” Molly let his sincere gratitude show in his voice and that crack let the emotion start to bleed in, let his shoulders start to tremble, “All of you...you’re all my dearest friends and you’ve done so much for me. If any of you want to turn back now and leave this company, you go with my blessing. Asking you to die for me...I refuse to do it.”

Beau was the first to answer, giving a derisive snort and coming up to nudge him sharply with an elbow, “We’re not dying for you, idiot. That murderous asshole is standing in our home thinking we’ll just roll over and give it to him. Seeing the look on his face when Caleb spills his guts? That’s worth dying for.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it quite like that,” Yasha gave Beau a fond roll of her shadow ringed eyes, “But the sentiment is the same. This will be something we finish together.”

“However it ends,” Fjord nodded firmly, loosening his blade in its scabbard.

“And you are rather convincing when you want to be, Mollymauk” Caduceus chuckled, “Perhaps it will come to peace after all. Stranger things have happened...like us all standing here facing impossible odds with smiles on our faces.”

That broke the lingering tension, making them all giggle helplessly like they were children again, facing their first time sneaking out of their bedrooms after dark. Like this was the start of some grand adventure rather than the end of one. Molly felt such a rush of warmth in his chest as he met Caleb through teary eyes and saw him chucking too, for a moment there was nowhere else he’d rather be than in this cold, filthy tent facing death.

“Well then,” he eventually sighed, jaw aching from grinning so hard, “Let’s put this silver tongue of mine to the test.”

Mollymauk tried so hard not to appear afraid. He really tried.

For once he was glad of his ridiculous horned helmet and the way it shielded his expression from the soldiers around him.

The Jagenoth army came into view over a rise in the landscape, a neat, black row of ants in the distance marching towards them in perfect step, banners snapping in the wind and sun catching on the deadly points of their weapons. They came in perfect synchrony, row after row of them, one two, one two, one two, devouring the distance between the two forces.

And they just kept coming.

Yasha and Fjord held the enormous black banners high, where they couldn’t possibly be missed, but as those soldiers came on and on and on, as Molly’s tongue dried to a desiccated fruit rind in his mouth, he couldn’t suppress the certainty that this lot of trained killers would just ignore their request and plow right through them, trampling them into the dirt without even a pause.

But finally, at the last possible moment, the Jagenoths halted. There was a thin strip of land still between them, less than a league separating him and his friends, the soldiers who followed in devotedly, from death. The silence that fell was broken with the snorting of horses and the restless clank of people shifting nervously in suits of armour but it still weighed heavily.

After a moment, Caleb spoke softly at his side, eyes filmy with magic, “He’s beckoning you.”

Mollymauk didn’t need to ask who he meant.

“Well then,” his voice cracked on the very first word and he had to hastily clear his throat and start again, come on you fool, you’ve been an actor more than half your life, you won’t flub your lines now, “Well then. Yasha, Caleb, Fjord, with me. Beau and Caduceus, hold the army. If you see anything done that breaches the terms of parley, attack.”

With that, he urged his horse on, never daring to look back and see if his friends would actually follow him. When they did, of course, he’d hate himself for doubting them.

The fact that only one rider broke from the mass like a droplet of black oil, ploughing forward to meet them, showed exactly what Lorenzo thought of the threat they posed to him. As the formless shape of hulking iron resolved itself into a vaguely humanoid silhouette, Molly took a meagre scrap of comfort from the fact that he was at least in his human form. When he was coming for their blood, he would look much different.

They stopped their horses a few metres from each other and walked the rest of the way, Molly flanked by his friends, Lorenzo needing nothing but his bristling carapace of sooty metal, swathed in hooks and cruel leather straps, and the glaive stowed at his back. The closer that got, the more Molly realised how his pretty, glistening armour with all its jewels and shine made him look like what a foolish boy would dream a prince wore to battle. He was a tawdry illustration from a fairytale. Lorenzo was an experienced killer.

“Well, well, well…” Lorenzo spoke first while he was still loping up, hailing them as if they were friends, his voice a low pitched drawl in an approximation of a nobleman’s polite tones that showed how he’d risen from dirt to lead his army on the backs of slaves, “It’s awful decent of you to come offer yourself on a silver platter. Saves us the trouble of carving those pathetic excuses for soldiers I see behind you into meat.”

Molly swallowed hard and drew himself up, acting as if he hadn’t heard the insults, “Lorenzo. I assume you speak for the Jagenoths?”

“I’m killing for the Jagenoths, boy,” Lorenzo removed his warhelm so they could see his lazy grin, the anticipation in his eyes, “But aye, I speak with their voice in this matter.”

“Then I offer this to you,” Molly kept his firmly on, “Whatever wrongs my father has done to you, whatever snags there have been in your business dealings, surely all out war is not the best way to seek repayment?”

“Depends on what you’re repaying,” Lorenzo sneered, “And I bet you don’t know half the mess your daddy’s gotten himself into. Allow me to educate you instead, gold don’t pay some debts, boy. Sometimes blood’s the only way to tip the scales back.”

“Then you and your kingdom are fools,” Molly replied, letting some contempt creep into his voice as the insults rubbed some already frayed nerves raw, “Out there in Shady Creek Run, you have no resources of your own. Your crops file nine harvests out of ten, there's no metals of any use in those mountains of yours, no lumber, no gems. Hence why you trade in flesh, a commodity most kingdoms turn their noses up at. Think of what I’m offering you. Money, trade, the chance to rise as a kingdom by marrying its crown prince to whoever you choose. I’m offering you the chance to actually see your people grow, rather than scraping out a living in the swamp and selling their children to you when they can’t make their rent.”

There was a moment’s pause after he finished before Lorenzo burst out laughing, showing rows of plaque chewed teeth as he guffawed.

“By all the gods, boy, haven’t they trained you up nice, eh? Got you all dressed up and taught you the right words to say, just like a pretty little parrot. Convinced you that you were a prince.”

Molly felt Caleb shift beside him, magic crackling in the air. He shot him a desperate glance, pleading with him from behind the metal slits in his helm. They absolutely could not afford to be the ones to break the peace here.

He swallowed hard and tried to put some more measure in his voice, “Perhaps if you brought my offer to your lords and let them decide whether they would rather see profit or-”

“You don’t understand, do you, boy?” Lorenzo was still chuckling like this was the funniest thing he’d seen all day, “What my good lords of Jagenoth want isn’t profit or trade or to see some pretty tattooed whore of a prince in their daughter’s bed. What they want is to see your father suffer. What they want is your head.”

That struck Molly somewhere just below his chest, “Mine?”

“Yes,” Lorenzo nodded idly, eyes creeping up the length of Molly’s body like he was deciding where to make the cut, “Your daddy stiffed them once too many times so they’ve decided his son and heir will be their price. However unimpressive that son may be.”

Molly hated the fear that chilled his bones at those words, that strangled the words in his throat as he tried to speak.

“Why’d you think we went to all that trouble to fool your daddy, get him to ride out on a wild goose chase after our shades and set you off on some busywork? It were never him we wanted. We wanted you, just as you are now with a handful of farmhands at your back and a pretty piece of glass for a sword. And didn’t it all work out so nice?”

Molly’s mouth twisted, “I see Ikithon has been giving you more than just Volstruker.”

Lorenzo spread his mailed hands and gave a wry smile, “You’re the losing side, boy. Got to expect the smarter rats to jump ship.”

“So…” Molly shook himself, forcing the words up, “If I let you take me, do whatever you want with me, that will be the end of it? My people go free?”

He’d expected the sharp, poorly concealed hisses of rage and dismay from his friends, the hands flying to weapons. He was ready with a raised palm, willing them to hold themselves, praying their loyalty outstripped their love for him.

“How very noble of you,” Lorenzo cooed in a mocking tone, before his voice turned to iron again, “And maybe that was the plan my lords gave me. But now I’m here...now I see that rabble you call an army...now I have your capital city just a few days ride from here...maybe now I want more? Maybe now I’ve got me a thirst.”

Molly felt sickness roil in his stomach, “You’d go against direct orders? You’d start a war that would cost you hundreds of soldiers without their permission?”

“Do you think they’ll give a flying fuck about permissions when I hand them the crown of Dosal still red with your family’s blood?”

“Dawn,” Molly croaked, “Give me until then and I’m yours. To kill or to carry back to Shady Creek Run, whatever you wish. On your word that that will be the end of it.”

Lorenzo smiled, a thick and nasty smile, his hand flexing, arm raising, “Do I look the patient type to you, boy?”

Molly saw how it all would happen. The barest second and that glaithe would be free, the blade would come swinging with it’s sharp whistle, no time to dodge, no time to free his own scimitars, all his hours of training meaning less than nothing as that razor edge bit into his neck and severed his head neat as snipping off a stray thread.

He saw it all. But it didn’t happen.

“What in the fuck-” Lorenzo grunted, his arm stilled in the air, muscles tight as iron chord but unable to move.

Beside Molly, Caleb had his hand out and his eyes were hard, the smell of magic rising off him like steam, “Drop your arm. Turn and walk back to your own. This parley is done, you have your terms.”

“You godsdamned pup-'' Lorenzo spat, eyes full of hatred as they fixed on the source of the magic holding him back. His face reddened and the smell of his own magic began to rise.

“Lorenzo!” Mollymauk raised his voice, the sickness turning to panic as he realised that the glaive was now fixing to whistle out at Caleb instead of him, that if it did battle would erupt and so many would die, “This is a parely for gods’ sake. We’re under a peace banner. You’ll get to kill me in less than a day, let it be enough.”

“Molly!” Caleb groaned, pained, his magic starting to slip in his distress and letting Lorenzo’s arm move an inch more.

“No,” he snapped, voice firm and tone hard, “Both of you, stand down. Lorenzo, you want it to get back to your lords that you can’t even keep to terms of parley? How long do you think they’ll keep feeding an oathbreaker?”

Lorenzo’s lip curled but at the very last second it became a sneer rather than a roar of rage. He relaxed his muscles and Caleb dropped his spell.

“I ain’t no oathbreaker, boy, but pay mind to which oaths I made and which I didn’t. Dawn it is then, you come out weaponless and alone before the light touches the base of that hill there. And be warned. You know my trade. You see my ink. You know that I can make you pay hard for every second you’ve made me wait.”

“And that will be the end of this?” Molly pressed, feeling strangely little for someone who had just signed away his life.

At that Lorenzo only smiled and let his eyes roll over to Caleb, poorly concealed hatred crackling in his gaze. It was clear that this wasn’t a man accustomed to being bested, even in the smallest ways. Caleb had dared to stay his hand and now Molly suspected he’d slipped down one place on the list of people Lorenzo wanted to kill tomorrow.

“Well we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”

At that he turned and strolled lazily back to his horse, never once giving them so much as a glance.

It was odd, to feel so alone in the midst of other people.To feel like the only person in the world when your friends were at your elbow.

They’d fallen back a little ways to set up a camp as best they could in the windswept plain. There was a hush about the company now, a dismay like they were all reeling from what just happened. Seeing the hope on Caduceus’ face fade, seeing the bitter anger flare in Beau’s eyes as she realised what had happened, it was all too much. Not waiting for permission, Caleb had rode Frumpkin past them, unable to bear it.

And now he stood alone at the paddock, running a brush over and over across his horse’s black coat even after it did nothing, just needing to do something. His duty pulled him towards the command tent, towards Mollymauk, but the thought turned his stomach. How was he supposed to watch his prince, his friend, retreat further and further into himself, dull his eyes and shut himself down as he waited for death? How was he supposed to stand by and watch it happen and know he could do nothing at all?

So instead he hid. He was ashamed at himself for it but at this point it was like pouring a flagon of water into the sea.

He replayed the parley over in his mind, turning it over to look at it from different angles, even when it’s sharp edges cut into him. He saw everything he could have done differently, all the ways he could have turned the tide. He could have snapped Lorenzo’s arm, found the strength from somewhere. He could have slipped into his mind, changed his words, made him take it back. He could have cut him down where he stood.

And it would change nothing, you fool.

Hopelessness crashed over his head like a tide again and it was all Caleb could do to keep his feet under the weight of the myriad ways he’d failed and everything it would cost.

Still wallowing in self pity instead of doing something useful I see.

At first Caleb thought it was just his own mind berating him as it often did. But then it sunk it, a moment too late, that the voice was so much clearer and sharper than it usually was. And it wasn’t his own.

An overpowering sense of revulsion filled him as his mind was invaded, enough that he couldn’t fight back. He’d felt it before but the sensation of someone else seizing control of your brain was so awful, so gut wrenchingly wrong in every way, that having it done brought him to his knees every time. Helpless, alone, no one around to see his distress, all Caleb could do was bend double and retch into the grass while his master slipped into his mind as easily as sliding on a well worn pair of boots.

I would have hoped to find you stronger, Bren. This is the Volstruker’s element and yet you are here whining instead of glorying in it.

Caleb could only moan thinly in response, mouth full of bile. His master only used his old name when no one else could hear them, they were supposed to shed them, burn them away, when they joined the order. But each of them knew that the master kept them carefully catalogued, ready to be used to hurt them as effectively as any torture device.

Well, at least you now have a chance to please me and show me you remember who you are...and who your master is.

“I don’t...please…” Caleb whispered, tears running from his cheeks to soak into the ground below.

Silence, Bren. Listen. It appears our relationship with Babenon Dosal has reached the end of its life. You are to defect, immediately, and present yourself to Lorenzo of the Jagenoths. He will find a use for even such as you.

Caleb’s brain could hardly take in what was being said to him, every inch of him shaking like electric currents were running under his skin, “No...no, the prince is my-”

The prince is what I say he is to you. And now he is nothing. I appreciate that you can, at least, summon some loyalty to your former position but I am hereby changing your directive. You serve Lorenzo now. Leave immediately. Do not let me down, Bren. You know the cost.

The revulsion fled as quickly as it had come on and Caleb was left to slump on the ground, tremors still running through him, stomach still painfully contracting as his body tried to remember what it was like to master itself.

It was a long time before he could rise, before there was enough strength in his limbs to hold him. His mind was a flurry of whip cracks, his back burned as if the wounds were minutes old rather than years, his fingers itched to tear his shirt away and find some relief in the night air.

You know the cost.

It was only an echo but upon hearing it, Caleb’s jaw clenched. He forced himself to hold still, he dredged up every scrap of training he could remember, filling his nose with the smell of smoke and burned wood to remind himself who he was and what he was.

Just once, he turned back and looked at the command tent, glowing with warmth at the centre of the camp just a few meters away from where he stood.

“Molly,” he rasped, voice raw and pained, “I’m so sorry.”

He knew his prince couldn’t hear him and saying it out loud brought him no comfort.

Caleb left Frumpkin tied where he was.

It would be easier to approach the Jagenoth camp on foot.

Molly paid little attention to the hours in between hearing Lorenzo’s last words and ending up back in his command tent, slumped down onto his cot while his friends sat around him, too stunned by dismay and grief to even argue much. All he could think of was that smile Lorenzo had worn as he’d turned away, what the cost of that smile could be.

I’m going to die, he thought vaguely, trying it on for size, trying to get his brain to accept the fact. He found he could muster little in response to it.

“We cannot let this happen!” Beau raged for the third time in the last half hour. And just like the other times, no one had anything to say to her.

“It’s our one chance,” Molly found himself saying, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice, “If he can have me, he might leave the rest of you alone. He might leave our people alone.”

“Might,” Yasha repeated, her voice bleak and hard like ice.

“Yes, might,” Molly sighed, “Might is better than nothing.”

“So you’re just going to give up?” Beau snapped, tight and tense as a drawn bow as she paced back and forth, “You’re just going to walk up to them like a lamb offering itself up to be slaughtered?”

“It’s the only thing I can do,” Molly leaned back against the canvas, eyes closing though all he saw behind them was that smile again and the image of his father’s crown covered in his mother and sister’s blood, “I can’t fight him. I can’t lead you all to some insane one in a million victory. I can’t talk to him. But I can let him have me and then...then maybe…”

He trailed off, shaking his head, unable to muster the energy to even find the words. Beau’s anger ebbed, showing the fear beneath.

“I’m a terrible prince,” he eventually murmured, eyes opening to not even meet their eyes, voice low and thin as a candle nearly out, “I can’t lead people, I can’t sway people or save them, I can’t ease their hunger or soothe their worries. I thought...I thought maybe I had enough base cunning and enough patter to act like a prince but...that’s all it's ever been. An act. A role I never even wanted. And now...well it’s all caught up with me, hasn’t it? The best hope I have is to die with some dignity and hope it's enough to save all of you.”

“Molly…” Yasha groaned, her voice a soft, sad whisper but it couldn’t reach him.

“An hour before dawn, all of you are going to retreat,” he continued, “Before that even, if you can manage it. I’m putting the lives of the company in your hands, save as many as you can.”

“Molly!” she was exasperated now, her usual calm completely fractured.

“This isn’t a debate anymore,” he shook his head, making himself stand though it was like moving a puppet with half its strings cut, “Just do as I ask. Let me try and accomplish something good with my death. And...if you ever get the chance, if the gods allow it, drink to my name.”

They had no answer to that. It was something of a relief.

“I’ll say my farewells in the morning,” he waved them out limply, “Just send in Caleb and…”

Finally, something pierced through the fog. Frowning, he lifted his head.

“Where is Caleb?”

“After the parley he, uh…” Fjord shrugged helplessly, “He was upset. I think he went to stable Frumpkin, you know how he does.”

“That...that was some time ago,” Caduceus put in slowly, “Hours.”

“I’ll go get him,” Beau shrugged, “Whatever…” She disappeared through the flap, still stomping, shoulders tense and face flushed. Yasha looked after her with soft, sad eyes but didn’t follow, she knew her well enough.

Molly expected the fog to close up around his head again but it didn’t. Something ran around under his skin, a sensation that something was wrong. Which was laughable, seeing as he was about to be killed as soon as the sun came up and possibly all of his friends alongside him at the whim of a madman.

Still, it was there and it irritated him just enough to keep him alert and frowning as more time than should have passed by.

And it was enough that he wasn’t surprised when Beau walked through the tent again, all of her anger replaced by complete and utter shock.

“A messenger,” she said, voice hoarse like the words surprised her even as they left her lips, “A messenger from the Jagenoths, she had the insignia and everything. She gave me this, said it was for your eyes only and just...left.”

This was a piece of paper, folded and sealed with a clumsy black seal like a smear of soot. The design was a crude hook shape. As Molly took it the feeling got worse until it was buzzing like an insect trapped in his skull. It was enough that he hesitated before breaking the seal but their eyes were on him, wary and hesitant and needing to see their prince be brave.

The writing was done in a hurry, the ink splotchy and smudged. Molly had one of those moments where complete insanity threatened to take the place of dread as he imagined Lorenzo’s huge oni fingers trying and failing to hold a quill but it died quickly.

When he read the words, there was no more fog and no more distance. Everything was real and close and far too much, pushing the air out of his lungs and constricting his chest until he couldn’t breathe.

Boy, I accept your challenge. Single combat it is, me against the little pup who thought he could snap at me and not pay for it. If I lose, my army turns heel and goes home empty handed. If I win, I kill you and we consider the debt repaid. I was so looking forward to slaughtering every last one of you but your pup made a good point. I get to hold faith with the Jagenoths while my steel gets to see true battle. I’ve never tried a Volstruker before but I’m looking forward to tasting the tears of grief on your face as I push my blade through your heart.

Lorenzo.

“Molly? Molly, what does it say? Hey, it’s okay, just breathe…”

Yasha had taken his arm but Molly barely noticed, he only looked up and found Caleb’s eyes there to accept his own. Of course he’d slipped in while they’d been distracted, of course he chose now to return. At least he had the grace to look ashamed.

“Caleb...” Molly rasped, tears running down his cheeks and dripping from his jaw to strike the letter, obscuring the words as if that would mean they’d never been.

The man he loved could only meet his eyes and smile sadly.

“Oh gods, Caleb, what have you done?”

[irandrura]

Terra Ignota

Over the last few weeks, I read Terra Ignota. I read all of the three published books so far: Too Like the Lightning, Seven Surrenders, and The Will to Battle.

Every review of Terra Ignota I have ever read is wrong. Or rather, every review of Terra Ignota I have ever read takes an extremely different perspective to my own, to the extent that I genuinely don’t understand how the author could have concluded that.

So as not to keep anyone in suspense, my perspective on Terra Ignota is that they are surprisingly trashy books, in a world that doesn’t make very much sense, but that doesn’t matter because the heart and soul of these texts is over-the-top soap opera drama. I think they are probably bad, and they outright offended me at several points, but nonetheless they drew me in enough that I wanted to keep reading. There is merit in that.

 If you’re the sort of person who cares about spoilers, this is your only warning.

As I said, I don’t understand most of the reviews I have read of these books. I simply don’t.

 I don’t understand the view that the writing itself is poetic and beautiful. Palmer has some good phrases from time to time, but overall I don’t find the prose particularly amazing. This is a very subjective point, so I won’t belabour it.

 I don’t understand the view that the books are a masterful triumph of worldbuilding. From my perspective, the worldbuilding is actually kind of half-assed, and more importantly, Palmer does not seem to actually care about worldbuilding that much. It isn’t her priority. Reading the books I found myself constantly asking “How does X actually work?” or “Y sounds totally insane, could you explain how it makes sense to me?” or “Z seems like it clashes with X, please resolve this contradiction for me?”, and Palmer never answers those questions for you. If I want some more explanation for why, say, a global transportation system serving billions of people is run without oversight, from a single private residence, looked after by a man well-known to be suicidally depressed… nope, I’m not getting that. If I want some context for how hive-switching works, or how it interacts with crime, not happening. Even minor questions: in The Will to Battle, our heroes talk to a band of criminals involved in human trafficking, and I immediately wanted to know what human trafficking means in a world where borders have been abolished, geographic nations have been abolished, and every place on Earth is just a short taxi ride from every other place. This is the sort of question Palmer does not answer or even acknowledge.

 And I don’t actually buy that she’s interested in the questions that I see raised when the books are spruiked to me. Are you intrigued by the question of what the world would look like if every individual could choose their own government, their own law code, unconstrained by geography? I’m intrigued by that. It sounds interesting. But this is not a question that Terra Ignota is actually interested in. It seems like it should be interested in it, and I read enough breathless expositions of how cool the hive system is that I expected Terra Ignota to be interested in it… but it’s not. If you’re interested in, say, the question of whether a permanent exit option would make absolute dictatorship more humane, as in the Masons, then I agree that’s interesting – but it is not a question that the text of Terra Ignota takes any interest in. The big worldbuilding questions raised by the hives are all window dressing.

 I don’t understand the idea that Terra Ignota is a brilliant depiction of utopia. I want to acknowledge straight off the bat that I may have a bias here, because Terra Ignota’s world is premised on the, well, genocide of people like me, or at least the forcible suppression and exile of people like me, but I don’t think it’s only the fact that I’m openly in defiance of the First Black Law. Rather, I note two things here. Firstly, it’s hard to see whether Terra Ignota’s society is actually utopian because we spend so little time in it. We do not see how ordinary people live in this world, or what makes it wonderful. What Terra Ignota spends most of its time on is the scheming and backstabbing of the dozen most powerful people in the world, and everyone outside that little circle barely exists in the text. (Abigail Nussbaum noted in her review that Terra Ignota’s world never really feels like it has more than a few hundred people in it, and I agree.) It’s hard to convincingly argue Terra Ignota is a utopia or a dystopia, because we never meet the whole population. We meet a small handful of amoral nobility as they play out a space opera Game of Thrones. That’s certainly entertaining, and I give Palmer credit for making it fun to read, but it’s not really an investigation of utopia. Secondly, where we do see glimpses of the world outside the parlours of the ruthless rich, it…honestly seems rather conventional, and rather like the 21st century. People work fewer hours a week, taxis are much more efficient, movies have smelltracks as well as soundtracks, they go to the Olympics, apparently the Oscars endured the collapse of all nations and religions… but there is little in this world that seems radically different to our own. It’s all minor, incremental bits of technological progress. They’ve eliminated poverty, which is good, but I usually expect something more radical from utopia than that. What do people actually do in Terra Ignota that’s different to what any upper-middle class American might do today? Other, of course, than not go to church, call everyone singular they, and wear tracking devices.

 I don’t understand the idea that these books deal with deep philosophical or theological themes. Like the hives themselves, it’s all window dressing. The narrator Mycroft is obsessed with the 18th century, and so is a bizarre anachronistic brothel that somehow every major world leader attends (cf. worldbuilding being weak, the world only feeling like it has a few hundred people in it), but they don’t do very much with this. Mycroft imagines Thomas Hobbes occasionally butting in, but his imaginary Hobbes has little to say beyond "Hi, I’m the guy who wrote Leviathan!” The characters reference Diderot and de Sade and Voltaire, but usually only on the surface level, and when they do try to go deeper, they often get the references wrong. The same for the theology. My point is not that Terra Ignota is bad: just that it isn’t really that interested in the political philosophy or the theology. It uses 18th century thought as an aesthetic. Deism, miracles, proof of God’s existence, how gods might communicate, etc., are not the questions that occupy the text. Ada Palmer is not a theologian.

 But all that said, I enjoyed Terra Ignota.

 I want to emphasise that. I enjoyed Terra Ignota! I am not saying that it’s bad! I’m just saying that it was not what everyone told me it would be.

 Terra Ignota is a book about a bunch of very powerful, very horrible people, who all apparently go to the same brothel and are interested in the same wacky theories about human nature and God and so on, lying to and betraying each other. I think Palmer is really interested in the characters. Mycroft, our pretentious narrator who by the end of book three is genuinely losing his grip on reality and writing hallucinations. Jedd Mason, the madman who believes he’s God, but is probably just the delusional product of a radical set-set experiment. Caesar, the iron-proud absolute dictator seeking to do his duty by his ambitious, power-obsessed hive. Dominic, the sadistic sexual predator who nonetheless worships Jedd with fanatical devotion. Carlyle, the kind and compassionate philosopher-in-residence who inevitably gets tortured and abused. Ojiro Sniper, the freaky sex doll who nonetheless seeks to become the Brutus to Jedd’s Caesar. Apollo Mojave, the dead-but-still-influential space wizard who sought to cause a world war for stupid reasons. And so on. The characters are generally well-drawn and interesting enough that I want to see what happens to them.

 I should emphasise Palmer’s achievement in making me want to know what happens to these people, especially because they’re all so unsympathetic. Carlyle and Bridger stand out as the most truly sympathetic characters in the novels, but by book three, the former has been captured, tortured, and now limps along, dead-eyed and broken-spirited, in the train of one of the resident sadists, and the latter has quite reasonably gone “Screw this” and used his immense psychic powers to delete himself from the book. But most of the core characters in this drama – Mycroft, Saladin, Jedd, Sniper, Ganymede and Danae, Madame d’Arouet, etc. – are mad, evil, both, or otherwise extremely unsympathetic. It is to Palmer’s credit that I want to know what happens in the war anyway. The most sympathetic of the political leaders in the text, Vivien Ancelet and Bryar Kosala, spend most of their time fruitlessly begging for peace. While they, perhaps alone of the leaders, have genuinely laudable intentions, it has been clear from the first book that neither will be permitted to achieve anything notable. The only people to barrack for, in Terra Ignota, are those noble if compromised few who seek to avoid a war – and who we all know will fail.

 Book four, it seems, will finally be about the war that the first three books have been setting up, and even though I frankly want all three sides to lose – the Jedd faction, the Sniper faction, and Utopia are all deeply unpleasant, albeit in different ways – I am sure I will find it extremely entertaining to see how this all collapses.

 Do I recommend Terra Ignota? I don’t know. If you want detailed, thorough worldbuilding, sincere contemplation of deep philosophical questions about theodicy, politics, and human nature, or a stirring vision of a possible utopia… no. Do not read it for those things. It does not have those things in it.

 But it does have a scene where the prime minister of Europe body-tackles the Olympic president through a plate glass window and they land in a pile of people having sex mid-orgy, while the media broadcasts it worldwide.

 And that’s excellent.