#In my defence I was surveying the area. And he happened to be there both times

[rl-jbc]

Tales from the starship Ryujo

The ready room was filled with the sounds of music from the 20th century as the captain stared out his window into the view of space. His face was older, as he was a man in his early 50’s. Captain Hauss was a man who appreciated his command. He and his crew were on their way to an area of space that has been of great concern. About 6 months prior there had been a large influx of war happening in a new area called the “Annex” area. The area of the neutral zone that the federation border patrol had been calling it. He was a little shocked that he and his crew were called out there. He was used to doing survey missions and that was no different.he was to report to the new space defence station Gallipoli Located in the Iconia sector. The music paused for a second as his console chimed. “Captain, we are about 23 hours away from the defence station.” The voice was that of his first officer. Commander Long Woll. Her voice was stern but not unpleasant to listen to. He looked over at his console and communicated back. “ Well, I will leave the Conn in your strong hands, try not to scratch my baby,” he said in a jovial way. The captain’s voice was soft, sounding almost a little shaky at times. Many people wondered how he got his position when on voice calls with him. But when combined with his sternly kind eyes it is easy to see that he is a man of both unrelenting Furry and bottomless compassion. He has trained many first officers who have come to be strong forces in the endless dark. They were even going to meet one of them at the base. As they were to meet up with the 12 attack wing fleet stationed at the defence station. He ran his finger over the audio shut off switch for the coms. He chuckled to himself. 

  “ That girl needs to loosen up a little, 23 hours till we arrive… I hope that this probe has some useful information." He looked over the mission parameters. star system FGC-20903, he had very little information on the system about a day away from the defense station. They just needed to talk to the Admiral and get the low down on what was going on from him. “ What could be so important that they had to send me all the way there. I'm sure their new fancy Frontier class ships could more than handle the download of an automated probe. He once again looked out the window of his ready room. 

  This was the Un impressive Freedom class, she was a strange vessel, only one nacelle under the main hull. And lacking a true secondary engineering hull. She was a mid-sized light exploration vessel not often sent to such far reaching areas. In Fact this was the ship's first time approaching the neutral zone. But the captain didnt let her flaws get him down. He had been in service on this bridge for the last 5 years, and has had many cadets and junior officers get their feet wet on this ship. And she has been a work of passion for the captain as he was the 5th man to hold her chair. And the last crew to handle her left her in very rough shape. And being a 37 year old ship she had started to show some quirks that truly make her, well Her. She was the USS Ryujo.  

  The captain walked off the bridge and took the turbo lyft to the ship's officer lounge. “The prancing dragon” named after the ship's name sake. He walked in and greeted officers as he passed. He knew them all by name. Not that it was a huge ship but there were still 449 souls under his command. He took his seat at the back near one of the front facing windows. He had brought his personal padd and was looking through some of his messages from home when he could hear some loud shouting coming from the entrance of the lounge. 

  “ I have a bone to pick with you, sir” the shout was indignant and was carried by the strong russian accent behind her voice. He looked up and saw his chief engineer Olga Chandra pushing people out of her way as she stormed over to his table. “ We need to talk, Sir!”. She leaned over the table. 

  “ Olga, what seems to be troubling you today? Please take a seat.” The woman sighed and frustrated, closed her eyes and let out a deep breath and sat opposite to the  commanding officer. After a minute of silence she opened her eyes and looked up at him. “ you know those new Graviton Ion Replacers we picked up back at starbase 105? They are all out of acceptable Variance, they are just giant weights to us at this point. They gave us faulty parts on purpose, those idiots back there don't care what we get. They have no respect for us, captain.” the older man nodded and gave her a reassuring half smile. “ Is there any way we could re-balance them? If not I have no issue calling the base and getting in contact with their commanding officer.”. The woman thought for a while. And clasped her hands in front of her. “ I know that 4 of them are probably but the 7 are too far gone. They also look like they were pulled out of a ship they salvaged. I'm all for being thrifty but I have my limits sir.” he nodded and laughed a small laugh. “ I know you will try to make lemonade out of any lemon but sometimes you end up with a pear. Make me a full report and we will go talk with them on our way back after we are done in the neutral zone.” the woman's face softened and she went to stand up. “ Thank you sir, I will have that on your desk by 0700 hours. Thank you.” She walked off and the captain gave a wave and picked up his padd again and attempted to start his reading again. He was asked a million questions as officer and crewman one after another started coming over one by one. 5 hours later the man flopped onto his bed in his quarters. With a deep sigh, he was bogged down. He had never been known to act this way but they had never been on such a long flight and the old girl's flaws were apparent. She was tired from almost 4 weeks of straight flight and her hull was showing the wear and abuse that others had put her through. It didn't take long before he fell into a deep slumber. He had dreams of when he was a much younger man. He had fought with the Klingons in the war. The fear and death he nearly succumbed to. Until he was saved by a woman that he called the angel. She had dragged him out of the fray and nursed him back to health in a trench as best as she could. Her smile filled him with the strength to get out of the fire fight. 

  His alarm went off and her face disappeared, he sat up in his bed. Reaching around but only to find himself. Moments later he stepped onto the bridge. The officer on deck whistle went off. “Hi, Kids, what's for dinner?” something that he asked every morning when he took his place in the captain's chair. His Conn officer spun around and looked at the man. “ Good morning sir, we are about 15 minutes away from the defense station,” he smiled warmly and thanked her. The ship flew at her cruising speed and dropped out of warp. The whole crew had never seen a sight, the clam like station was huge, almost as big as starbase 74 and way larger than earth space dock. The next sight were the large war ships all around that made the Ryujo look small. The comms officer spun around. “ Sir, we have been instructed to dock in airlock 43.” The captain looked puzzled. “ Well, let's not disappoint them.” the vessel navigates to the designated area. 

Shortly after arriving the crew disembarked from their home away from home. The station was filled to the brim with tactical teams. The many officers that the crew passed were dressed in uniforms that were far different than the crew was used to seeing. This station seemed more like a military outpost than any of them had ever known, all the crew here had some kind of new style phasers than they were used to seeing. Before long the captain and the first officer were approached by a couple men in tactical gear. “ Captain Hauss? Commander Woll, the admiral will see you now.” The pair looked at one another. “ Take us to your leader” remarked the captain in a jovial way. The two were led through the many corridors of the station. 

  After a short turbolift trip they were in the office of Admiral Carlos Rota. he was a stern faced man with stubble and a bald head. He looked up as the two were escorted into his office. He stood up to greet them after seeing who was now in his office. “ ah, Captain Hauss, we have been expecting you. How was your trip, we were expecting you a few days ago.” he walked over and shook the hand of the Ryujo’s captain. The captain stood over him a little bit, but was much thinner than the younger man before him. “ Well, the old girl can only travel so fast. One Nacelle ship and all that. But we made a B-line over here as fast as we could” the two men stopped their handshake. “ ah yes, the…Freedom class right? Man, I remember seeing those as a child. Well I'm glad that we still have a few flying around the system. Can I get you two anything?” The admiral walked back to his chair and sat. motioning to the two take a seat across from him. They took his invitation. “ oh, I think some water would be nice.” the captain said, settling into his seat. “ quite an impressive outfit you have going on here.” he remarked as an officer walked over and handed the two glasses of water. “ Yes, she is a beautiful station. We are the state of the art military post. We have enough firepower to obliterate anything those pointy eared bastards send over the border, and let me tell you what, they have been. But let's get down to the brass tax of things. We need your ship to go get a probe that we sent over years ago. I would send one of my ships but let's be honest, sending one of my vessels would draw the eyes of the Romulans. That's why we have asked for you and your crew here. Unfortunately your vessel would be wiped out like dust in an instant. That's why I have impounded you for a few days. Your crew will be pulled from the ship and we are going to do a field retrofit.” The captain looked at the admiral stunned.

  “ I'm sorry, what are you doing to my ship?” he said, his voice getting slightly raised. “ worry not captain, i'm not pulling you from service, but we need a ship your size and firepower to get back there. Unfortunately you don't quite have the equipment to do the job. We are also going to be putting 75 of my best Marines aboard your ship while you are in my neck of the woods. I have the transfer papers to add the Ryujo to the 12th wing fleet. Congratulations captain, i'm your SO now.”  the captain clenched his fists. “Sir with all due respect we are a science ship, not a battle cruiser. My crew are scientists and will not be a fan of having soldiers aboard.” the captain could feel his blood beginning to boil. “ I'm afraid its out of your hands, as we speak we are getting your ship combat ready. All the best new shiny parts for your ship. We will be done in two days. As well as new equipment, I figured a vet like you would be happy to be back on the front lines.” he slid a padd with all the new modifications that were going to be installed on the Ryujo. “ Commander, you should really see the service record of your captain, he was a real Klingon killer in his prime. He was awarded some accommodations when he was a Lieutenant.”

  The first officer looked over at her Captain, she had always seen him as a rather calm guy. But the man she had grown to know was never a killer, he always looked for peaceful resolution. “I never knew.” she said, studying the face of the man next to her. She could see him getting pissed off as he looked over the modifications to his science vessel. “ Well, you both are invited to dinner with me tonight if you would like. Beyond that, you two are Dismissed." The captain put the padd down on the desk and just got up and walked out as quickly as he could. The commander was surprised by this action and quickly got up and followed him with a “sir” making her exit. Down on the observation deck the crew was all murmuring amongst themselves. The captain stood there watching as the station's engineers made the changes. The Chief engineer came up with a padd in her hand looking over the modifications. “ Sir, what are these changes? I can't even see the specs on most of these parts. They are all classified.  I mean, this is all a little scary. What are they doing to our girl?” she said with genuine concern in her voice. 

  The man took a deep breath and turned to his crew. “ I have an announcement, I am sorry to inform you all that we are heading behind enemy lines to retrieve the probe we have been sent to gather. We have also been transferred here for the time being, so going forward is going to be a military operation. We will also be housing marines aboard our ship in case things get a little hairy. If you have any issues in this, I understand and would not fault you for wanting to leave. We have always been a scientific vessel. I know not what changes they are making but if you want out I will sign the transfer papers if that's what you want."He just let his head hang and he walked off to go find his quarters. The crew he left were left murmuring among themselves. They were very confused by everything going on.  

  A while later in his temporary quarters there was a chime at the door. “ Come in…” he said begrudgingly. In walked the first officer. “ Captain, are you doing okay?” he moved to face her. “ I will be alright. 34 of the crew members have asked for reassignment with the news. I can honestly say I don't blame them. This isn't the kind of crew we have fostered.” he said, scrolling through the names and handing them to her. “ I mean are you okay? You seem very worked up over the news, and is what the admiral saying true?” She took a seat on the table in front of where he was sitting. “ Yeah, it's all true, I fought in the Klingon war… not willingly. I was just doing what I was ordered to do. I don't see it the same way. Not the way that he sees it. He is a man focused on war, there are always men like him in organizations like this. I just have never meshed well with them. That's why I was transferred to Ryujo in the first place. Because I didn't want to fight anymore. It's always a reality, and fighting can't always be avoided. But not like this. This is just a want for a fight.” the older male slinked into his seat. “ We will just have to deal with it, hopefully this doesn't last for a long time.” 

  A few days later the U.S.S. Ryujo was finished with construction. The vessel looked different than normal. Her frame had been changed to one of operation yellow. Her nacelle changed from the galaxy class design to one the crew had never seen before. She now had a combination deflector dish sensor sweet unlike any had seen before. And instead of a single pylon holding the nacelle it had been changed to a spoiler like design that was very rugged. Her hull plating had also been swapped to one of a more easy to repair on the fly type. The crew were shuttled and transported aboard. Over 100 of the crew had been transferred off the ship. The crew got to work checking all the changes that had been made to their beautiful ship. Even the computer systems had been changed out for a new core. The bridge was designed more like a war vessel than previously. They had also been given a new type of torpedo stock. The phaser banks had been upgraded to that of phaser strips all along the hulls top and bottom. The crew were given 2 hours before launch. The captain took his chair and looked over the systems. His number one took the chair to his right. “ What do you think of the retrofit, sir?” He looked over the changes. “It would appear that these new changes have given us a lot more power under her hood. It will be interesting to see how she holds up.” he didn't seem as excited as before. At that moment a new face entered the bridge with 3 marines. The captain stood up to greet her but he was shocked when looking at her. “It…it's you” he seemed stunned. The female officer who had taken the bridge was that of his battle field angel, the woman he had fought in the war with. She looked at him dead in the eyes. “ Sir, I am Lieutenant Cecilia Paris. I am in charge of your new onboard marine corps.” she didn't seem to acknowledge knowing him. “ You, you were there, on” he was quickly interrupted by the ship's tactical team and began to argue and protest his removal from his station. “ Sir, we are here to be your new sensor, tactical, and comms array officers on the bridge. We know this area of space better than anyone else.” she stepped up to him. “ and i am here to play an advisory role, i will be your liaison in the annex” she saluted him. 

  He dismissed her and showed her to her seat. “ Number one, make sure that everything is a go, we don't have any more time to waste” the commander set to work checking and getting the green light from all the other departments. Within a few minutes everything was green. The ship was given the go to leave space dock and they took her out. Moving off to make there voyage to the next area of space. With that the captain took his chair and looked over to his conn officer. “ punch it” with that the conn officer pressed his console and sent them to warp. Disappearing into the black. 

[cloudy-leonhart]

DID I SEE YOU WANT ANGST REQUESTS???

i gotchu mamacita🙊🙊

Alrighty so;

After an expedition, Levi’s (crush or s/o, whichever you want) was reported missing. Of course, he felt so useless that he wasn’t near you so he can make sure you get back to the walls safely. He did care about deeply, more than anyone else he was close with, it was like he knew you two were soulmates ya’know? Levi sent out many MANY soldiers, and Erwin wasn’t going to stop him. He knew why Levi was doing this. But what he didn’t know, was that Levi’s heart was slowly tearing into many, dozens of pieces. Many soldiers wanted to go back to the walls, since they have families. Levi didn’t care and tells them to keep searching. They would not return until they found his (crush / s/o). on the third day. They have finally found you. Levi was shocked, yet happy they’ve found you. They took you back to the wall. You had to be taken to the infirmary. But little did Levi know. You died two days earlier. When Levi found out. His heart was completely teared. Levi was different, and he would never be the same.. he cared about you, he loved you.. now you’re gone.

I SUCK AT PLOTS, BUT HOPEFULLY YOU’LL TAKE THIS😭👩🏼‍⚖️/ anyways have a good day/night. Take care of yourself mwah

oh and;

happy hange :D

Levi’s just; 🧍🏻

Holy- well- break my heart why don’t you :D I’m going to edit around the plot a bit, instead of waiting, let’s just say they couldn’t find Reader’s body just yet, and I will also make this a harder pill to swallow with.. unrequited love.

---

We Never Stood A Chance. (Levi x Reader ft. Erwin)

Summary: Levi felt so stupid for leaving you behind, he thought you were with him, he thought he could’ve saved you, he thought that maybe he’ll be able to keep you away from the horrid creatures of the world you were both born in, but you guys never stood a chance.

Pairings: Levi x Reader, A SMUDGE of Erwin x Reader.

Female Reader.

Recommended Song: The One That Got Away. - Katy Perry.

Theme: Angst, Canonverse.

TW: Death, injuries, blood, swearing, fighting, aggressive behaviour. 

“Damn it!” Levi kicked his desk, making a prominent dent into the oak wood. He took deep breaths, anger running through his veins. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!!” He repeated over and over again, punching the stone wall of his office, almost being able to make a crack into it.

He should’ve checked if you were there before going back to the walls, god knows what happened to you while they left you there, he felt a shiver creep his back, as he clicked his tongue, pacing his room out of anger and worry.

A bang from his door was heard as his gaze quickly focused themselves to the noise, hoping, begging, it was you who stood in the doorframe. He doesn’t care if you were dirty, just you. It has to be. Instead, he made contact with Erwin’s angered expression, the blonde’s jaw was clenched, as he took big strides getting closer to Levi’s unresting figure. 

Erwin’s hands balled up the fabric of Levi’s shirt, the blonde looking like he had steam coming from out his ears, “You lost her?!” Levi grunted pulling away from Erwin’s touch, angry. 

“Get your dirty hands off of me,” He spat at Erwin’s face, glaring straight at the blonde’s blue orbs, an unexplainable anger burning in Levi’s eyes. Erwin was angered, he couldn’t control himself and had punched Levi straight in the face, the black-haired captain grunting and falling back against his desk.

The room stayed quiet for a few moments, their heavy breaths and the droplets of blood into a puddle were the only sounds they could hear. “I’m not going to deny that I lost her during the retreat, but soldiers are already out there searching for her.”

Levi grumbled, pulling his cravat from out of his neck, he clicked his tongue, seeing the trail of blood stains, and deciding to use it to wipe the blood away from his face, which was scowled in disgust.

“And don’t care for her now, you didn’t care then, that’s why she chose me.” Erwin shut his eyes in denial as he started to walk away. “The survey corps-” Levi stopped him from answering any further. “The survey corps is more important than personal affairs. I get it.” Levi looked straight at Erwin’s retreating figure.

“How dumb do you have to be, choosing the same option twice, first, Marie. Then, Reader.” Levi took a jab at Erwin, the blonde’s fist tightened, stopping him from beating the life out of the captain. “You don’t get it.” He couldn’t make up a defence against Levi, knowing that he did feel dumb, choosing the same thing rather than being selfish.

“I do get it, being stubborn is going to get you killed. Reader loved you too, you know,” Levi threw the cravat on his desk as he sucked in a breath, his nose aching in pain. “If I hadn’t been there, she would’ve probably died in your arms.” He spat out every insult in his mind, slowly breaking down Erwin’s lies. 

Erwin opened his mouth, his throat running dry, not being able to respond to Levi’s words, knowing it’s true. Before he could ever say anything, a soldier had barged in, a bit shocked at the heavy tension the soldier was faced with. 

“Captain Reader, she’s been found-” A heavy push has stopped the soldier from talking, Erwin watched as Levi left with haste.

---

Running into the hall, Levi didn’t have anything on his mind besides you, he wants to know if you’re okay, if you were breathing, if you were alive. He made turns around the headquarters, his chest heaved up and down, signalling his erratic breath.

He stopped in front of the infirmary’s curtains. He regained his breath, his hand took hold of the rough fabric of the curtain and pushed it aside, seeing the busy nurses running around like crazy. Various doctors and nurses worked on different, injured cadets. Their uniforms covered in blood stains, the nurses no longer knew who’s blood on their uniform was who’s.

Levi paid no attention to the crowd of nurses and doctors and peeked on their patients, some he knew, some he didn’t. He was just looking for you, for your face. He didn’t care whether he’d be dirtied with the messes in the infirmary.

He looked and looked, went through the same rows over and over, making sure he didn’t miss a single cadets, he thought you were here, was the cadet lying to him? you were not in any of the infirmary beds.

He internally panicked as he went to leave the room, the stench of blood reaching his nose, when a hand came to hold his shoulder, he froze and turned around, making eye contact with a doctor, the man had a grim expression, which made Levi’s stomach curl. 

“Mr. Ackerman. Follow me.” His voice laid low, his eyes flickering from the ground to his face, he felt compelled to follow, but did so either way. They passed the injured cadets, walking to another part of the infirmary, it was way more noisy compared to the area where nurses and doctors were working.]

The doctor came in, his hand making a ‘come here’ motion to him, the doctor’s figure disappearing into the room, Levi felt a shiver run down his spine, he took hold of the curtain and entered, being faced with crying families, and deceased cadets. 

Levi stopped, taking a step back. He looked around, a tight feeling starting to surface in his body, he stitched the loud cries easily to people around him, he shook his head, wanting to retreat back into his office when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. “Mr. Ackerman.” The same doctor called out, Levi’s head whipped around, a perplexed look on his face.

His steel blue eyes looked for a motive on why he was being brought here, he looked into the doctors eyes, searching for clues on reading this man’s purpose.

The doctor no longer waited for a response, dragging Levi by the upper arm, the black-haired captain still baffled, confused and getting a little claustrophobic. The doctor stopped at a certain closed curtained spot way in the back of the infirmary. He looked at Levi and gave him a pat on the shoulder, before leaving.

Levi was still confused, what does the doctor want to show him? His hands pulled at the curtain, entering and closing the curtain, so that whatever this is, nobody could see. He could see a body outline on the sheet of the bed, a throbbing pain started to pound in his chest, walking up to the body.

He ignored the throbbing pain, taking hold of the sheet by the corner, with each second he used to uncover this dead body, the pain worsened, as if it’s telling him not to, or he’s going to regret it. Levi grunted and pulled the cover away.

His breath was caught on his throat, it was you. The one person he came to the infirmary for. He could feel his chest pounding extremely hard, as if someone had shot him in the chest, or stabbed a knife in his back, he held the dusty night table as a support, feeling his legs start to go jelly-like. His eyes were widened.

He couldn’t believe his eyes, it wasn’t you, it couldn’t be, he wouldn’t forgive himself if it’s you. He could never live with himself happily, he promised he’d protect you. His eyes widened for a few moments before it relaxed, not finding the energy to cry, scream, even to be angry.

Another person had entered the area, and from the expensive cologne, he could tell it was Erwin. Levi didn’t bother acknowledging him as he sat on the edge of the bed, caressing your pale skin, his thumb ran across the dry lips, blood decorated your used-to-be rosy lips, he sighed, it was probably painful when you died, painful and lonely. 

“Levi..” Erwin called out softly, standing by him, both of them silently mourning over your dead body, Erwin’s hand tightened around Levi’s shoulder silently, he felt his eyes stinging, as he pushed aside the quarrel they both had in Levi’s office. 

“She was strong you know,” Levi mumbled, his eyes grazing over your pale and discoloured body, your hair looked faded and grey, no longer shining, “if I had to pick someone, who’d survive being left outside the walls, I would’ve picked her.” a small pathetic chuckle left after Levi’s sentence. “But, I guess I was wrong, seeing as she didn’t even last a few hours.” Levi pulled the bloodied stray hair from out of your face.

You looked peaceful at least, he knows it was painful. He hopes that you didn’t endure it long, you didn’t suffer, he hopes. Levi and Erwin mourned together, but their words stayed in their hearts, they both silently grieved, both scared of forgetting you. 

---

“Levi!” You jumped up and down, waving your hand like a maniac, a field surrounded you both, you ran towards the man you truly loved, and still do love. You jumped in his arms as his caught you, spinning around lightly. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” He asked, pulling you close, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

You laughed as your hands connected around his neck, your warm hands making shiver a bit. “Nothing, just you. That reminds me, let’s go on our picnic now, yeah?” You pulled away from him, walking down the hill, making sure you don’t tumble down and ruin your sundress, it would be a shame to go to a picnic in dirty clothing.

You both spent most of the morning laughing and telling stories to each other, the sun was beautiful as it started to set into the afternoon. Yours and Levi’s laughter had died down softly as you held the cup of juice in your hand, you looked over to Levi who you think was enjoying the view. 

“This is the longest you’ve ever slept, Levi.” You stated, swirling your cup of juice around. He hummed, looking over the field, scattered around you, daises and other types of flowers decorated the lush grass. “You picked the field again. Why not the corps headquarters?” You asked, Levi turned to you, making eye contact with you. Your eyes held curiosity for him.

“I guess, because that’s where I last saw you?” He more so sounded like he questioned rather than he stated. You smiled. “Levi,” You sat closer to him, face-to-face. “Don’t say it, please.” He softly begged, looking down. You grab hold of his chin, making him look at you, you made contact with the mechanical blue eyes you fell in love with.

“I can’t stay forever. Levi, you did your best.” Levi pulled away from your hand, “No, no I didn’t, I couldn’t do it. I promised and I broke it-” You sighed and took hold of his shoulders. “Levi, enough! You fulfilled your promise, you did do it, and you did one hell of a job at it. I’m so proud of you for doing so, Levi.” You held onto him as he clutched your dress in his palms, his teeth gritted, trying to accept that he did an amazing job protecting you.

“It’s okay, Levi. It’s okay, you can let go.” You comforted him, pulling him into you. He nuzzled his head into your neck, as he let out a sigh, trying to remember how you smelled. You were fading away from him, he wasn’t ready to let go.

The beautiful scenery started to grey, the world he tried so hard to envision living with you started to fade. “You’re waking up, Levi.” You mumbled, still holding him in your arms. “Please don’t go, I never begged in my life but I’m begging you to stay.” He held you closer and tighter as you smiled. “I’m never gone Lee..You can’t see me but I’ll always be with you,” You pulled him arms away, “It’s okay, it’s time to let go.” 

“Wait!-” Levi sat up abruptly, a cold sweat coating his body. His chest felt tight, his hand running through his hair as he tried to remember his dream, each time he dreamt of you, it was more real than the last one. 

He could feel something went coming down his face, his hand wiped at his cheek, a clear liquid on his hand, he was crying. He felt shocked, before he started to chuckle silently, you’re still affecting him even when you’re gone.

He pulled his covers out, he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to bed, and so like he always does, he went to make himself tea. He came back with two teacups, he walked towards the table in your former shared room with Levi. He placed the teacups facing each other. 

“You loved drinking my tea during this time, I hope you can still enjoy it, Reader.” Levi said, taking a sip of his tea as looked out the window, watching the sky turn into a midnight blue to a beautiful yellow. 

[meddow]

The Terror Plot Ideas

I love coming up with plot ideas but I never write them cos I don’t have the time and as I never have nice short ideas, they’re always 10,000 word + ideas. (I am writing something, but it’s 18,000 words already and if I finish it, it’ll be a miracle). 

So free to a good home. All Fitzier.

(I haven’t spotted any of these when scrolling through AO3, sorry if someone has written something similar and I’ve just missed it).

Terror plot bunny #1

Alien Quadrilogy AU: Our doomed artic explorers are now the staff of a new mining outpost owned by Weyland-Yutani corp on some far-off planet. On a survey to an explored area, they come across a crashed spaceship with a miraculously still working life support pod and a bunch of alien eggs. Poor Gore gets to be John Hurt, while the life support pod contains Silna. Inevitably they ignore Silna and end up with a xenomorph running around the mining outpost while having to deal with the company wanting them to bring back eggs for study/weaponisation vs doing the right thing of destroying the lot. Stanley is the synthetic that dooms their chance of blowing the eggs up from orbit and their best chance of escape. There’s Fitzier angst when James relevels his Weyland-Yutani brand artificial heart is on a subscription model and the company can terminate the contract (and shortly after that him) at any time. Hickey decides to try and become King of the xenomorphs or some such, cos he’s Hickey.

Terror plot bunny #2

The whole idea behind this is: what if the thing James did in Singapore for George Barrow was pay off a Chinese woman pregnant with Barrow’s illegitimate child.

Having spent a lot of time examining all his life choices while certain he was going to die, post rescue James heads from London to Singapore determined to try and make things right. Francis finds out and follows on the very next ship, certain things are going to turn out really badly and James will need his help. And maybe Sofia tags along with Francis (not in a ‘I want finally marry Francis way,’ but a ‘I want Francis to be happy, and so I’m going to help him help this dude he’s clearly in love with’ way) cos that would be fun.  

Terror plot bunny #3

Either Sir John dies a day later, or Crozier leaves on the rescue party a day earlier and suddenly James finds himself the sole Captain of the Franklin Expedition. Francis and his party makes it to help and return with a rescue party, having no clue Sir John died the day after he left and having missed everything that happened with Tuunbaq. Some things are better (Blanky has both legs, McDonald lives), others are much worse (James’ deteriorating health won a lot more people over to the mutineers’ side)

In my mind how this story would go is that what happens in the actic is told in flashbacks after the return to London and Francis and James are on trial by the Admiralty for what went down, which takes a turn and Francis finds he may be the one who gets off lightly while James is going to face the full wrath of the Admiralty. This is because James and Blanky never told anyone that Francis defied Sir John’s orders in order to keep up moral, and James can’t come up with a good defence for his own actions as saying ‘a vengeful spirit in the form of a giant Polar Bear wanted us all dead’ will probably only make things worse. So it’s looking like Francis is going to have to figure out how to save James, even though James completely loathes Francis and Francis isn’t sure if he believes the Tuunbaq story. 

[theartofimaginaryfriends]

Chapter 10 - A Suspect

Fic series: The Final Straw (HP/PJO Crossover)

Premise: Nova oversees the chariot building and has an unpleasant run-in with Pansy.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ilvermornymascot, @lukecastellandeservedbetter, @eva-blog-p

word count: 1,434

A/N: I’ve got like,,, around nine writing projects again which has now resulted in the creation of a schedule. I will hopefully be posting chapters every friday or saturday (and not gonna to lie I thought today was Sunday so I was feeling panicked but we’re good). If I don’t post anything on either day, it literally just means I was unmotivated to write or busy. Either way, it is now 4AM and I’m trying and failing to fix my sleep schedule. Hope y’all enjoy this chapter! I’m super excited for the next one XD

The second week of classes was coming to a close, and Nova's mind was still on the nightmare she had six days prior. Her friends could tell her head was somewhere else, but the only person that brought it up was Cree when the two of them were alone. She spent most of her time zoning out in classes or keeping to herself on the Northern Tower.

During Defence Against the Dark Arts, she was barely paying attention as Hermione and Annabeth answered yet another question, not allowing the rest of the class to participate. The Head Girl doodled in her notebook half the time, barely paying attention when Professor Lieberman asked them to get into groups and discuss amongst themselves for ten minutes. "Nova."

"What?" She looked at Cree and rubbed her arm where he nudged her.

"We're supposed to be discussing how to defeat a manticore by using both magic, and weapons," he explained, not masking the worried look on his face.

"I think it has to be done with at least five people," Annabeth said, leaning against the back of her chair. "Percy, Grover, Thalia, and I had to fight one and we didn't beat it."

"That was when Artemis's Hunters came to camp during winter break that one year, right?" Nova asked, and Annabeth nodded.

"I still get nightmares," she sighed.

"What do you think the best strategy would be?" Frank was curious, having never heard that story before.

"Three wizards and two demigods would do the trick," Annabeth decided, her plans almost always having worked out in the end.

"Three stunning spells at one target, and then the demigods can kill it when it's down," Hermione added, knowing exactly where Annabeth was going with her idea.

"Makes sense," Cree commented, making the girls smile in triumph.

"Times up!" Professor Liberman announced. "Starting with group one, I would like to hear what everyone came up with."

Nova went back to doodling in her notebook as the groups shared their discussion, and didn't pay attention to the rest of the class. She could feel Cree glancing at her continuously throughout the morning, and it didn't stop by the time History of Magic rolled around. During the middle of class, as Professor Trebunskaya droned on about Pukwudgie's and their relationship with wizardkind through the centuries, Nova addressed her friend. "Yes, Cree?"

"Is everything okay, Nova?" he whispered. "You've been out of it before, but it's never this bad."

"Yeah," she lied, but quickly corrected herself after Cree gave her an unbelieving look. "No, I'm not. Never in my life have I been this shaken up after a nightmare, but this time it just feels different."

"Different, how?" he pressed for more information, hoping that it would help his best friend more than anything.

"I don’t know," Nova shrugged. "Maybe it’s because we're one step closer to figuring out the prophecy. Not that we're any closer, but it just feels more real than it should."

"At this point in the year? That's fair," Cree couldn’t help but chuckle, causing the two to be caught. 

"Sorry, Professor!" they chorused. They went back to whispering, grateful to be sitting at the back, and tried to work through where Nova's mind was at.

At the end of class, Nova went straight to the quad to oversee the teams building their chariots. The project had started two days prior, and it was already utter chaos. Not only were some teams not getting along - namely Clarisse and Draco - but the quad was an absolute mess. The Hephaestus kids were the ones most guilty of it, too focused on working to realize they were invading another team's workspace.

Lucas dealt with the messes the most, and Nova was the mediator when a fight occurred. Sometimes, Nova would witness Travis and Ron discussing potential pranks to incorporate but usually ignored them. Today, she let her curiosity get the better of her. "Please tell me it will be harmless."

"I swear on the River Styx I wouldn't add a prank to a chariot if it caused harm to anything or anyone," Travis promised the Head Girl. "You know more than anyone that a harmless prank is the best kind."

"Just make sure it's not one that the judges can consider cheating," she sighed, smiling. "I want you two to compete fairly, like everyone else."

"You got it, boss," Travis joking saluted Nova, and Ron laughed at his new friend's antics. As Nova continued walking around to keep an eye on everyone, she noticed Neville giving Frank an apologetic look, and the Roman demigod seemed worried.

"Is everything okay?" she asked the boys, quietly.

"Pansy is terrifying," Frank whispered.

"She's somehow gotten worse," Neville added.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense," Nova shook her head. "Look, I wish I could do anything but I can't. She awful, and I'm sorry you have to deal with her."

"Got anything to say to my face, Sterling?" A voice sneered behind her.

"Actually, yeah," Nova found Pansy more of a nuisance than someone to be afraid of, and today was no exception. "If you want to win this competition - and I know you do - you'll have to learn to be nice to Frank. Teamwork is how you're able to succeed, not that I'm surprised you're unaware of that."

"You dirty little-"

"Oh, I'm not finished," Nova smiled sweetly. "I may not have evidence yet, but I know you're hiding something and I intend to find out what it is. Watch your back." 

In truth, Nova didn’t have anything on Pansy except for a hunch. There were very few suspects for the traitor amongst the students, but the Slytherin girl was high on the list. Pansy never seemed to actively want to get along with anyone, and it was clear she didn’t care for this program. All Nova needed was evidence, but she had to pull a few strings to get it.

Pansy stood there speechless, her face was riddled with anger. Nova ignored her and turned to the boys once again. "Good luck, and shout if you two need anything."

"Confringo!"

"Protego." Pansy tried to attack Nova as she was walking away from the two groups, but Nova expertly blocked it. Before a full-on duel could break out, Professor McGonagall and Chiron rushed over to the commotion.

"What is going on here?" McGonagall asked sternly, addressing the question more to Nova.

"Pansy tried to attack me using confringo, and I protected myself against the spell," she answered, calmly.

"Is this true?" Chiron asked the witnesses. Frank, Neville, and Meg nodded unable to hide their shock.

"Miss Parkinson, I thought we were done with this childish behaviour," the Headmistress glared down at the student. "Fifty points from Thunderbird, and a month's worth of detention with me. If I see this again, you will be disqualified from the tournament, and we will find a new partner for Mr Zhang."

Frank gave Nova a 'please let that happen' look, causing her to stifle a giggle. "As for you Miss Sterling."

Nova turned back to McGonagall, a slight feeling of anxiety bubbling in her stomach. "Ten points to Pukwudgie for your honesty and integrity. You will receive no punishment, but I do hope to not find you in this situation again."

"Thank you, Professor," Nova relaxed. "I understand."

Satisfied with that response, the teachers moved on and surveyed the rest of the area. Slightly annoyed with Pansy, Nova continued doing her job and firmly but kindly told everyone to get back to work. The champions complied, either starting to work or arguing with each other.

As the weeks went by, Nova got increasingly frustrated with Pansy and switched jobs with Lucas. She was growing more suspicious about her, but couldn't find the right time to try and look for the evidence she needed. Her friends were in on the idea, everyone agreeing that Pansy was the most likely candidate - although not the only one. The suspicion, however, was pushed to the side within a few weeks after Pansy had seemingly calmed down.

When October hit, there was excitement in the school once again. The corkboards in each lodge contained a notice about the first Baypoint Village visit of the year, happening during the second Saturday of the month. It was a chance for the kids to have a day to relax and not worry about school, the prophecy, or the championship and everyone was stoked. Nova, in particular, was curious about a new shop that was added to the village over the summer and couldn't wait to check it out.

[mego42]

1x07 Discussion Questions

My b! My b! I usually try to do these when the episode is fresh but instead I went to sleep, I am at peace with my priorities, tbh. As always, many thanks to @pynkhues​ for her time and energy putting these together and shout out to @foxmagpie​ for the assist. 

1. What was your favourite scene of the episode? Tell us why!

Lot of contenders, tbh. I really love the scene with Mary Pat when she puts together the (extremely transparent) bullshit that is the whole secret shopper scheme (I mean come on y’all, did you even try????), I love Ruby and Stan’s date (high five to Stan for coming through with my parks & rec reference, it’s nice to know there is one (1) man I can count on). The Annie and Greg bit is REALLY SWEET LEAVE ME ALONE. The god tier brio content, specifically The Grab Heard Round The World My Living Room and the Give Me A Name bit. Some classic Rio nonsense (do you think if we asked him to point to an egg he’d point to an apple?) Tyler and his “reeeeeeally fill out the surveys?” was, obvs, the best moment on the entire show. Anyway, one of those for sure.

2. Was there any scene that missed the mark for you? And if so, how?

The Boomer setting up Annie stuff always falls flat to me and idk exactly why? Like, individual pieces of it are great, Mae does EXCELLENT work post police station and when getting arrested in the first place but ultimately I find it fairly forgettable in the grand scheme of things.

3. Let’s talk about the secret shopper scheme! What do you think were the strengths of it? The flaws? Do you think it had longterm potential? Or was it always going to crash and burn?

I said this during the rewatch but I straight up blocked out the fact that all of the shoppers are hitting the same store on the same day (waving around upwards of $5k in cash???? no less???????) because my brain cannot comprehend how three women we’re supposed to believe are reasonably intelligent didn’t realize this was the stupidest, most transparently obvious, most short-sighted scheme in the entire world. 

I struggled with the sustainability of it a bit when I thought they were spreading their efforts around (they roped in A Lot of people, there are only so many Costcos in the Detroit metro area and waving around that much cash and then returning it all, again for cash, is uh, already p memorable) but I could deal with it when I thought they were spreading it around. Short-sighted, immediate solutions are a cornerstone of Beth’s brand, after all, but all of them at the same store at the same day???? Too much. I cannot. 

4. The girls spent their money in very different ways! Ruby on romancing Stan, Annie on clothes for her son, and Beth on jewellery for herself. What do you think this tells us about them and their arcs? Particularly coming off the back of Ruby’s conflict with Stan, Ben’s issues at school with clothes, and Beth leaving Rio her pearls?

Love these connects. The show’s got a pretty clearly defined and consistent visual/character motifs (this may or may not be the word I’m looking for, shut up) when it comes to depicting the girls priorities and motivations. You also see it reflected and reinforced with their repeated coping mechanisms throughout the show. Whenever bad stuff happens, Ruby goes home to Stan, Annie crawls into bed with Ben and we usually close with Beth either alone (ouch david) or connecting with Rio in some way (exhibit a: the aforementioned pearls). 

In all of the instances it comes back to the heart of their priorities:

Stan is Ruby’s number one, (which isn’t to say her kids aren’t a part of that, I think Stan is both himself in this sense while also representing her whole Hill family unit—TV is all about visual shorthand kids—but also it serves to illustrate that Ruby has something Beth and Annie do not: a true partner). 

Ben is at the root of everything Annie does, she makes choices based on not only his. well-being, but how he sees her and he has the most influence over how she sees herself and what actions she takes as a result of that.

Beth, on the other hand, is at a contrasting point. She’s done the devoted partner and mother thing (lowkey implied by the little bits and pieces we get of her and Annie’s childhoods to some degree more or less for her entire life) and is now putting herself first, her needs, her wants. Which isn’t to say she doesn’t give a fuck about her family, she waits until she’s got a fat stack of cash and they’re taken care of before splurging on a thing, but as a symbol I think the necklace pretty clearly illuminates that for whatever Beth tells herself, she’s building an empire for herself, bc she wants it, needing it is secondary.

5. Eddie’s arrest is arguably what sets us on a collision course with the finale! Do you think Eddie was loyal to Rio until the end? How much do you think he told Turner? And what sort of loyalty do you think Rio inspires in his boys? And why doesn’t it translate with the girls?

OF COURSE EDDIE WAS LOYAL TO THE END HE HAS CLEARLY DEMONSTRATED HE HAS SOME KIND OF CODE OF HONOR HOW DARE YOU SLANDER MY BOY LIKE THAT.

Tbh idk how to answer the loyalty question without more information from canon because the gang and how they operate, how they all came together, etc is pretty well shrouded in not-central-narrative-focus, though I think it’s been implied somewhat heavily that what’s going on with the girls is not standard operating procedure.

My personal headcanon for Eddie is tied up in my personal backstory for Rio and Mick that I started for my (lmao first) Mick POV fic. I gave Rio and Mick a friends since we were kids backstory and decided Eddie was a kid in their neighborhood, slightly younger then them, and always looked up to them/followed them around/thought they were cool. He ultimately got involved in crime because they did and they looked out for him and brought him up with them (which, you know, makes how it all turns out that much more tragic). Obvs, this is all just me and my tendency to imprint on random side characters and give them backstories. Let me live.

6. This episode introduces us to Mary Pat, who’s probably one of this show’s most complicated antagonists! What do you think of her generally? And could you have predicted her arc with Boomer and Turner?

I love her and I’m done lying to myself about it.

LISTEN, first off, Allison Tolman is great. Her line delivery is fantastic, she has a knack for subtly adding SO MUCH to every scene she’s in and uses her face and inflection and pauses exquisitely. Top notch comedic timing. Truly a gem.

Second, on a character level, the lady is in a bad spot and the girls basically gift-wrapped the circumstances and handed them to her like here is a present!!!!!!!!!!!! What was a struggling girl to do besides accept what was offered to her??????!!!!!!???

7. This episode features a very pivotal scene in terms of the Beth, Ruby and Annie dynamic. What starts as tension between Annie and Beth quickly pivots when Ruby criticises Beth and Annie leaps to her sister’s defence. What do you think this tells us about the dynamic between the girls as pairs and as a trio?

I am so!!!! curious!!!!!!! about the backstory that exists in the writers’ heads for Ruby and Annie (all three of them, really, but the bff and little sister having an independent friendship is of particular interest to me bc it isn’t something you, or I guess I, run into a lot) and how much of it was defined at this point vs how much it’s evolved/fluctuated as the show goes on. This fight pretty clearly illuminated that when it really comes down to it, it’s Beth and Annie vs Ruby which a) breaks my heart and b) isn’t totally a dynamic I think the show ultimately stuck with? Or maybe intentionally fluctuates? Idk this is a half-baked thought. Ask again later. 

8. Greg is the one who kisses Annie! Who do you think left who in that relationship, and/or what were the biggest issues in that relationship?

I feel like there’s pretty much no way Annie wasn’t the one that called things off with Greg. Not just because of how it plays out this time but because he’s got a kind of persistent yet also go with the flow attitude that makes me think he would absorb a lot in the name of making it work whereas Annie seems to have a pretty established history of cutting her losses and bailing when she hits her limit. Based on how fond they are of each other and how much affection they clearly still hold, I tend to assume they just grew apart as they grew up which makes it almost more complicated and tragic because it leaves all of the good stuff and just mixes it with the knowledge that it wasn’t enough. 

9. What did you think of Ruby’s sauce story? And what do you think it meant as a turning point for her arc?

I HATE THIS STORY SO MUCH USED BAND AIDS ARE GROSS ENOUGH ON THEIR OWN WITHOUT MIXING IN FOOD SERVICE AND MONTHS, MONTHS, OF MARINATION. I REFUSE TO TALK ABOUT IT. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

10. Knowing that Beth, Ruby and Annie’s system of paying Mary Pat off doesn’t work, do you think there was a way they could’ve handled her on their own that would’ve worked? Or do you think Rio’s intimidation (and potential murder) tactic was the only way out?

Idk maybe I’m just cynical, but I take trust no bitch to heart, they pretty well screwed themselves into a corner by being idiots. 

[scribomaniac]

Something Wicca This Way Comes Ch 5

@andiirivera @blackwidownat2814 @gryphbear @meredeph @jonesfandomfanatic @forget-me-not-s @groovyfoxpeace @superchocovian @therealstartraveller776 @stahlop @kmomof4 @teamhook

Tonight would be an amazing night. Killian was sure of it. First a bad guy would be kept off the streets, then he’d take Emma to Liam’s pub and make up for the disaster of a conversation they’d had at the police station. She didn’t seem too put off by his awkward questions, though, which gave him hope that he still had a chance. 

“What time are we leaving again?” Will asked around a mouthful of apple. “We have to be there at five, right?”

“Aye,” Killian nodded and then looked at the clock over the kitchen sink. “If we leave at a quarter to we should be fine.”

A blinding white appeared out of the corner of Killian’s eye, making him wince. When the light dimmed, he found Tink standing by the kitchen table. “Hello boys!” Her green eyes surveyed the room, “Where’s Liam?”

Will swallowed audibly before answering her, “Upstairs getting ready. He should be down soon.”

“Ready?” Tink tilted her head to the side, “Ready for what?”

“We’re taking Detective Swan out for her birthday tonight.” Killian raised a brow, “Didn’t Liam tell you?”

A vacant look overcame Tink for a moment. If Killian had been looking anywhere else--if he had even blinked--he would have missed it. Her mouth dropped open just half an inch lower than normal, and a glassy look invaded her eyes. Killian wasn’t sure if the look meant she was in deep thought, trying to determine the answer to his question, or if the look was caused by something else.

With a little shake of her head, causing strands of her wheat blonde hair to escape from the bun atop her head, she said, “No he did, I just forgot. Speaking of forgetting--oh, hello dear,”her back straightened as Liam walked into the room. Pausing her speech, she met him halfway and sprung up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“Hello beautiful,” Liam said quietly as he looped his arms around the white-lighter’s waist and pulled her close. Too bad it wasn’t quiet enough for either Killian or Will. The two younger Jones brothers caught each other's eyes and pretended to gag. 

“You were saying, Tink?” Will said, his brows so high they almost reached his hairline. He kept his gaze steadfastly away from the romantic pair, staring straight ahead at nothing. “About the uh,” he cleared his throat, “something about forgetting?”

“Oh, right,” she gave Liam’s shoulder a harsh tap. “I spoke to the Elders about the Guardian you told me about.”

“Aye?” Liam frowned, “What about them?”

“Nothing major,!” Tink smiled sweetly, and brushed a small lock of hair behind Liam’s ear. Killian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wished the two would separate long enough for Tink to tell them what was going on. At this rate one would keep distracting the other until it was midnight.

Glancing back at the clock and seeing the time, Killian cut in, “Can we speed this thing up? We have somewhere to be after all.” The last thing Killian wanted to be was late. That’d be one hell of a follow up from their last encounter. First rude--or idiotic, he wasn’t sure which was worse--then late? He’d be lucky if Emma ever gave him the time of day again.

“Right! Sorry,” Tink grimaced at the younger brothers in apology. “Other witches have been running into Guardians in the area.” She stepped out of Liam’s arms and shrugged, “It seems like they’re being more active than in recent years.”

“So what does that mean?” Will asked while leaning back in his chair. “They’re reproducing or something?”

“Or someone’s summoning them,” Liam rubbed the back of his neck, still looking at Tink. “Is that what the Elders think?”

Tink nodded, “They think there’s a demon in the area who’s been giving them out, sort of like a keeper.”

“We should go back to the club,” Liam said, looking back and forth between his brothers. “See if there are any clues we missed.”

“Not tonight,” Killian protested, standing straighter. “We promised Swan we’d meet her at the courthouse.” Before his older brother could say anything more, he added, “And if we hurry maybe we can question the killer about it. What’s his name--” he snapped his fingers, “Smith! We can ask him about the demon.”

Will snorted and asked, “And how are we supposed to get him alone?”

“I could freeze them, I guess,” Liam rocked his head side to side in thought. “Selective freezing, I’ve done that before.”

“Just focus on the Innocents!” Tink advised, taking a step closer to Liam again. She curled two fingers through his belt loops. “That should do the trick.”

“He’ll already know about magic,” Killian said, pushing the think train even further. “He didn’t get possessed by a demon without learning a thing or two about the Supernatural.”

“All right then,” Liam threw an arm around Tink’s shoulders and headed towards the back door. “Let’s get going.”

He reached for the car keys, but right as his fingers were about to grab them they disappeared in a ball of blurry white. Looking over at Will to find a wide and wicked smile on his face, Killian laughed as his brother called, “I’m driving!” As he ran out the door.

The Brothers Jones made it to the courthouse in practically no time at all, arriving ten minutes before the hour. They entered the courtroom just as the killer and previously possessed man, Emilio Smith, took his seat at the defendant’s table. The judge was still conversing quietly with his bailiff, so Killian quickly led their group over to where he spotted Emma sitting next to David. 

“Hello, Swan,” Killian greeted as he slid into the seat next to her. Then came Will, then Liam, and finally Tink. “Happy birthday by the way.”

Peaking at him out of the corner of her eye, Emma gave him a small smile. “Thanks. You’re early.” She checked the time on her watch and then sighed, “Or we’re late. The last case ran long.”

“This will be over soon,” David assured her, then nodded to the Jones brothers in silent greeting. “Hopper has everything he needs to keep this guy behind bars until trial.”

“Except the weapon,” Emma looked at Killian, “what did you call it again? The knife--an etha-something?”

“Athame,” Will corrected helpfully from over Killian’ shoulder. A bit too helpfully, Killian thought as he noted the look of surprise on Emma’s face.

Jabbing his younger brother in the sternum with his elbow, Killian shrugged and tried to play off Will’s immediate knowledge of such a random weapon, “It’s used a lot on a favorite show of ours. About two brothers who hunt demons.”

“Oh, right. I think I know the one.” Emma turned back to her partner and said quietly, “You don’t have to be here David, really. I can testify for the both of us if we’re called.”

David shook his head, “No, that won’t fly with this judge. He’d take any excuse to let Smith out.” He grimaced and his foot began to tap incessantly against the floor. “He’s not called free Willy for nothing.”

“What was that?” Liam asked.

“Nothing,” David’s foot kept bouncing. “He just has the highest release record in the city is all.”

“All rise for the honorable Judge William Hamilton,” the bailiff announced, his voice deep and echoing in the near empty courtroom.

The judge was an older man with a receding hairline and old, circular glasses. He was probably the sort who liked to give people second, third, even fourth chances. Normally Killian could support a man with that mentality, but in this case, a second chance could mean an Innocent’s life.

Hamilton called for Hopper’s evidence in the case, which the red haired man presented, listing piece upon damning piece. First there were Smith’s prior records, then the witnesses who saw him leave the club around the same time as David, then Liam, Killian, and David’s testimony about the night’s events. Everything lined up. There was no way Smith would walk.

“Mr. Spencer,” the judge turned his head to Smith’s lawyer. “You may proceed.”

The tall defence lawyer stood and cleared his throat, “It seems to me, your honor,” he began and immediately his words made the hair on the back of Killian’s neck stand on edge. There was a harsh steel in his voice, one that was covered with silky honey. He knew immediately that whenever this man spoke, he might not be lying, but he was never telling the truth. “You can’t very well hold for a murder trial without a murder weapon.”

Hopper stood up, his lips pale and his glasses a bit crooked as he defended, “Your honor, the state has already stipulated that the alleged murder weapon is still outstanding. We have two eye witnesses who, who--”

“Saw what, exactly?” Spencer asked, his face passive and unimpressed. “My client bent over the detective?” He clicked his tongue, “That’s how they justified their attack? How do they know my client didn’t happen across the scene and try to revive the detective?”

David ran a hand across his mouth and Killian heard the faintest of muffled swears. Emma’s hands balled up into fists, but her face remained unchanged from her usual slightly scowling demeanor. 

Killian looked back towards his brothers. Tink’s lips were pursed and her brows furrowed, while Liam looked concerned but not upset by where the proceedings were going. And Will’s eyes were honed in on Smith’s back. 

“And why,” Spencer continued, “if they were so easily able to subdue my client, did they not find the murder weapon?” The lawyer looked between Hopper and Hamilton. Killian smothered a groan. That stupid weapon, he thought about how he’d flung it into the Guardian’s third eye. It had vanquished the monster, but it had destroyed the weapon as well. Why couldn’t it ever just be easy?

Spencer’s brows raised and he made a show of spreading his fingers wide as he said, “What, did it just magically disappear?”

“Objection!” Hopper called out, but Killian ignored that and looked to his brothers. Three pairs of eyes were on him. None of them needed to speak, but they all thought the same thing: he knows.

But how, and why? Killian’s brows furrowed deeper and deeper, surely becoming one thick line across his forehead. Was Spencer in on it? Was he the demon handing out Guardians like candy?

Emma turned to whisper something in David’s ear, her hair brushing against his shoulder from the force of her movement. Turning himself, he hissed at Liam, “Now!”

Liam nodded, then closed his eyes, took a deep breath and with a flick of his fingers, froze the room. Beside him Emma’s hand was cupped around David’s ear, her green eyes alight with frustration. David’s cheeks were puffed out, no doubt from a held breath. His leg was stopped mid-tick and his eyes half lidded. Even Tink was frozen where she sat, her eyes expectantly looking towards Liam. 

“It worked,” Will sighed, his mouth a bit open.

“Overruled,” the judge’s gavel hitting the wooden block sounded like a rock crashing through a glass window. Three pairs of blue eyes snapped to the bench.

“It’s the judge!” Liam sat up straighter, hardly believing his eyes. 

“Your honor,” Spencer shook his head, “I move for this case to be dismissed.”

“And the lawyer,” Will cried. They looked around for anyone else it might have been and suddenly found themselves surrounded. Bailiffs, security guards, even the stenographer set eyes on the brothers with malice in their eyes and ravenous grins on their lips.

“It’s everybody,” Killian said unnecessarily. Pulling Will up by the cuff of his shirt, he yelled, “Run!”

“Kill them!” The judge’s voice yelled out.

A guard swung his baton at Will, who just barely managed to orb out of the way in time. Letting go of his brother’s shirt, Killian squared up against the law clerk in front of him. Fists raised, he feinted left, then right, then struck out and made contact squarely across the man’s jaw. 

“One down,” Killian said as the other man’s eyes closed and he fell to the floor. He looked around at the rest of their enemies, “a dozen to go.”

Two on one this time, a bailiff and the stenographer. The stenographer was surprisingly good at hand to hand fighting, not falling for any of his feints and ducking around his punches. The bailiff got behind him and swung, his bat almost making contact with the back of Killian’s head when he heard Will shout, “Baton!”

The weapon orbed out of the bailiff’s hand and into Will’s. Killina’s younger brother immediately used the bat against its owner, swinging and striking the man across his back. 

What Killian wouldn’t give for an active power like Will’s. 

The stenographer took advantage of his distraction and attacked, her foot coming in contact with the bottom of his ribs and forcing him backwards. For a moment gravity disappeared for Killian. He let himself fall back, his head careening to the floor, and then his feet rose up and kept rising up until he found himself standing on the wooden railing of the juror’s box. 

Releasing a deep breath, Killian reminded himself that levitation came in handy too.

Back to the task at hand, Killian made good use of his height above the woman, jumping onto her and slamming her into the ground. When he pulled himself off the floor, he looked around to find only the judge and his brothers standing. 

“Freeze him!” Will yelled as the judge took a step away.

“I can’t,” Liam came running towards them from the other side of the room, giving Will’s arm a good smack when he was close enough. “It’s calle immunity for a reason. Once they have it, that’s it.”

“Then blow him up!” Will cried, bouncing on the balls of his feet and wanting to rush head first into danger.

Realizing Liam hadn’t used his more destructive powers all evening, he looked around at the unconscious bodies on the floor. “If they’re demons,” he looked up at Liam, “why didn’t they use their powers?”

The judge hissed, then scurried away through the door behind his bench, “To me!”

Shadows rose from the bodies around them like smoke. The human bodies didn’t move, didn’t even twitch, as the Guardians possessing them returned to their master.

Liam nodded, “He’s the one we’re after.”

Emma POV

Emma had felt the ripple of Liam’s freezing power over her skin just as she turned to David. She froze in place, betting that she’d be overlooked due to the fact that the room was full of demons. The Charmed Ones were surprisingly adept in non-magical forms of fighting. Both Liam and Killian relied on nothing more than their fists to save them from the frenzied hands of the possessed. 

The fight was over quickly enough, which Emma was thankful for. She could have held her body like that, unmoving and unblinking, for much longer, but it would’ve been so boring.

The demon ran away like the coward he was. It wasn’t surprising though. Demons who sold powers and possessions were like traveling salesmen; always selling something defected and unnecessary, and disappearing at the first sight of trouble.

As soon as the brothers disappeared after the demon, Emma relaxed and sat back in her seat. Then, she shimmered after the demon herself. 

He hadn’t gotten far, she realized as she materialized in front of him. The Charmed Ones would be here any second. She’d have to make this quick then. She couldn’t let the brothers see her, but she also needed to make sure this low life, demon scum didn’t get away. He’d caused her too much grief for that.

The demon stopped, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening in fear and confusion. “What the hell?”

Emma released a small breath of a laugh and said, “Thanks. I’ll take it from here,” Then, with the barest of effort, set him ablaze.  

Through the red hot flames, she could see the door’s handle on the other side of the room twist. Before it could open, revealing the brothers, Emma shimmered away.

Killian’s POV

They walked in on a strange sight. The judge screamed before them, then disappeared into nothing as he was vanquished. “Okay,” Will said slowly, “how did that happen?”

“Good question,” Liam looked around the room, seeing if there were any clues. Killian looked at the floor. There were no scorch marks or broken glass. A witch with a potion didn’t do this. Liam’s head snapped back the way they came, “We’re not alone.”

Rushing back to the courtroom, they found nothing amiss. Everyone was still either unconscious or frozen. Something tight in his chest loosened a bit when he laid eyes on Emma’s still form. 

“How are we gonna explain all this?” Will asked, nudging Killian in the side and jerking his chin towards Emma. “To her, I mean.”

Wincing, Killian took a deep breath and said, “I have an idea. Come on, help me move her and David.” Between the three of them, and Tink once Liam unfroze her, they were able to move Emma out of the row and into the aisle, and moved David towards the edge of the row. Grabbing a baton, Killian moved to stand behind Emma and raised his hand. “Sorry love,” he apologized right before landing a blow against her back, sending her straight to the ground.

At the same time Killian dropped the baton, Liam unfroze the room, waking Emma up to a hard floor and a bruised back. She groaned and pushed herself up, “What happened?”

Killian knelt down next to her, “Swan, Swan--you alright, love?” He shook her once, then again when she merely groaned again. David blinked and looked around, confusion obvious in his large round eyes.

“Yeah, I think so.” Emma rolled onto her back then leaned up into a half sitting position. “What happened?”

“Er--” Killian felt his tongue turn heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t thought of an explanation.

“Smith went crazy!” Will cut in, his voice a bit too loud to be natural. “He tried to escape and then all the court guards were, ah--on his side, and uh--” he paused, looking at both Liam and Killian for help.

“Thank god for Nolan here,” Killian said, gesturing vaguely at the still dazed David. 

“Saved the day,” Liam added, his tone tight and his eyes strangely fixed onto Emma. Killian frowned at his older brother but then Emma winced and he realized she was trying to stand up. 

Grabbing her by the elbow, Killian helped her to her feet. “What?” She asked, bringing a hand to her head and narrowing her eyes.

“Something good happened Swan,” Killian smiled, making sure to look her in the eye and convey all the sincerity that statement merited. Raising a brow, he challenged, “Can’t you just accept that?”

Bringing her hand down to her neck and kneading the flesh there, Emma raised her brows and laughed, “It’s not in my nature.”

“Nonsense,” Killian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, then steered them towards the exit. “Now come on, Swan. Your celebratory drink awaits.” 

[laurazepamwrites]

The Chemicals between us ~Ch.8

 The Orca landed with a bump on the outskirts of a dense forest not far from Bryansk. The landing jerked Junkrat awake and his nose wrinkled from the strong smell of coffee brewing.

 ‘Fuck is that?’ He asked groggily, using Roadhogs frame as leverage to sit up straighter, his long limbs cracked as he stretched.

 ‘That's the smell of four o’clock in the morning princess.’ McCree replied. ‘Want some? Might not get another chance for a while.’

 ‘Ta.’ Junkrat stood up and gave Roadhog a slight kick awake and got a curse for doing so. McCree handed him a mug as Morrison came down from the cockpit. ‘I want everyone prepared to move out soon, make sure you all have your communicators on and make sure they work. If they don't and you get caught out you’ll be on your own. Everyone move your own weapons from the cargo hold, once done we head to the compound. Genji and Zarya will meet us outside the perimeter.’

 Ana placed her empty teacup down. ‘I will scout ahead and keep watch for signs of danger. Plans can go wrong and I want to see trouble before it happens.’

 Morrison nodded in agreement. ‘Go ahead, be careful and contact when you reach the meeting point.’ Ana gave him a quick salute and headed down to the cargo hold.

 ‘Is Athena good to go?’ Morrison asked Winston.

 The large Gorilla looked up from his computer and adjusted his glasses. ‘As well as can be but we won't know for certain until we hit Talons cyber defences.’ Morrison grunted and looked towards the Junkers. ‘Are you ready for this?’

 Junkrat giggled ‘Fucking born ready mate.’ as Roadhog gave a slight nod of his head. Morrison frowned ‘Final warning Fawkes..if you do anything to jeopardize-’

 ‘Yeah I know, I’m dead and there's plenty here to do the deed. Just fucking chill alrite mate? Me n Hog will play our part no worries.’ Morrison narrowed his eyes and studied the junkers before placing the mask of Soldier 76 upon his face, the red visor shone a sinister red. From one of the windows he glanced Ana heading into the forest. ‘Everyone get ready’ He said ‘We move out in 10 minutes.’

  The walk through the forest was slow going and none too easy with the dim light and dense trees making it difficult for Hana to maneuver her Mech, often resorting to taking a longer path to find a clearing big enough. The suggestion of demolishing a path or shooting through the trees was quickly shut down. Junkrat tread carefully over thick roots protruding from the ground and lightly jumped in the tracks made by the large Mech as Hana was once again forced to find an alternate route, he took a deep breath in and revelled in the new smells and freshness of the air. Fuck it felt good to be in the open. Hana grinned at him from her Mech.

 ‘Hey having fun?’

 ‘Too right! Forgot what trees look like.’

 Hana rolled her eyes and laughed ‘You can see trees from the cliff at base.’

 ‘Yeah but not these..’ Junkrat gestured vaguely ‘Spiky ones? Got a funny smell.’

 ‘Pines.’

 They continued walking and trudging through the forest, Junkrat glancing so often towards the group and particularly Roadhog just to make sure he was still there. He got a pang of anxiety when a dense group of trees blocked his view and he lost sight of him. What in that time Morrison shot him? Or Talon where secretly following them? The sudden thought made him glance behind him and scan his surroundings..really should of left some traps. He breathed a sigh of relief when the trees cleared slightly and he found Roadhog, he had barely heard Hana speaking to him.

 ‘Huh?’

 ‘I asked if you are okay?’

 ‘Err..yeah. Yeah im great! Why wouldn't I be! Not long till I get to blow shit up!’ He gave her grin to reassure her and himself. Hana gave him a sceptical look, yet to her credit and his relief she let it slide and returned the smile. ‘Thanks for keeping me company.’

 ‘No worries, gives me more time to be out here before we go back to the lock up!’

 ‘Theres gotta be something you like there.’

 ‘Oh sure, regular grub, running water annnd now I get me own workshop!’

 ‘ Ahem!’  

 ‘ Yeah sure you and Lu are alright I guess.’

 Hana giggled and stuck her tongue out at him. ‘You're a jerk but youre alright, hey look! There's a clearing, lets catch up!’

 Roadhog watched as Junkrat and Dva approached them, not speaking until Junkrat was once at his side. ‘All good?’

 ‘Yep, all good.’

 ‘Not gonna do anything stupid I hope.’

 ‘If I do its by accident.’

 Roadhog grunted ‘Don't be impulsive.’

 Junkrat laughed ‘When have you known me to have any control over that.’

 ‘Mean it Rat..be smart about this.’

 Junkrat scoffed at him and rolled his eyes as Morrison signalled that they were close to the first point. Sure enough in the distance stood Ana, Zayra and Genji waiting on them.

 ‘Are we clear?’ Morrison asked on approach.

 ‘As Well as can be, time is now against us though. The first patrol is in less than thirty minutes.’ Said Genji, glancing towards the large Mech.

 ‘Hey its not my fault the stupid trees were so close together!’ snapped Hana, rather defensively.

 ‘Still think its bad idea to have those two here.’ Grunted Zarya nodding towards the Junkers.

 Junkrat scoffed ‘Really? Pick your fucking time to have a moan ya fucking pink Juggernaut!’

 Zarya laughed ‘Oh ho! Those brave words from someone I can snap in two with my little finger.’

 Roadhog stepped forward ‘Try it.’

   Morrison jumped in as Zarya stepped forward to the challenge. ‘Back down!’ Morrison barked at Roadhog and turned to face Zarya, ‘This is neither the time or place. That goes for everyone. I will not have childish bickering when we need to depend on each other in the field. Am I clear?’

 Zarya's lip curled in contempt but she nodded in agreement then Morrison looked to the Junkers. ‘Oi I didnt fucking start it!’ Junkrat protested looking offended. Roadhog gave him a shove and muttered something, ‘Fine fucking crystal alright!?’

 Convinced the matter was at rest for now Morrison continued. ‘Team A get ready, once our target hits our marker we strike. Winston, Torbjorn, prepare your equipment, once that patrol is eliminated we advance on the gate then it's down to you to get us in. Everyone else know their positions and objectives?’ There was a collective murmur of confirmation ‘Good, then let's begin.’

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

 Dimitri Ivanov took the last drag of his cigarette and tossed it, the smoke drifting lazily into the early morning air. He heard the command to move and he snorted and spat on the ground. He fucking hated mornings. He was a military man during the Omnic crisis and fought in many battles, a well seasoned soldier with a large count of dead omnics to his name just like his comrades. Dead and alive. He had new comrades now, him and four other surviving men and women from his old unit. After the war their government had hardly given them anything to live off, their homes had been destroyed and like thousands upon thousands of others they had nowhere to go, no living to make. Until one day he was approached by a man, a man with an opportunity which promised work and security. An opportunity that promised a better world for everyone. A world built for the strong by the strong and he was proud to serve, proud to serve Talon.

 The patrols around the compound was easy work if but boring. He had been stationed here for a month now and the most exciting thing to happen was a stray dog getting too close to the fence. At Least it confirmed the turrets worked. The only people they saw where the trucks entering and leaving and the drop ship that came last week. He trudged along with his patrol and slung his gun back over his shoulder, reached into his pocket pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, his nearest comrade nudging him as he did so. Dimitri shrugged his arm away and took a large inhale of smoke.

 ‘What problem?’ He said, smoke exhaling through his nose. ‘Nothing out here but us and birds. Relax Anatoly my friend..nothing to shoot at us out here-’

 He turned in confusion as his comrade suddenly disappeared from his side and slumped to the ground. The rest of the patrol stopped and came to his aid. ‘He sick?’ One asked. They took his dark balaclava off his face, only then realising that his throat had been sliced open.

 The patrol leader shouted orders as Dimitri struggled to reach for the gun across his back and frantically scanned the dense forest, he felt a rush of wind behind him and heard the thud of another body falling, someone fired wildly at nothing. He barely lifted his gun as he felt a hard slap to his chest, followed by another, the cigarete dropped from his mouth, smoke and blood trailing past his lips. He fell hard to the ground and the last thing he heard was the sound of bullets hitting their targets. The patrol was dead before they even realised what was happening.

 Morrison surveyed the surrounding area waiting for a sign of the compound being alerted to the attack, a moment passed with only the sound of birds in the trees, convinced the first wave was successful he signalled for Team B to advance to their position. Winston and Torbjorn led the way and found a vantage point just below the crest of a hill overlooking the compound giving them high ground and cover. They both quickly got to work setting up a field computer as Ana scoped out the area with her Rifle. ‘Four turret droids on the gate’ She relayed back to Winston. He nodded and quickly typed on a small keyboard, lines of code flashed across the monitor in front of him as Torbjorn adjusted a signal booster. ‘If Athena can’t get in I modded this enough to send a pulse through every droid in this place..will only last a minute or so but may give us a much needed window.’ He said as he worked.

 ‘We might not need to use it..      hmm    that's odd.’ Said Winston, his brow frowning at the screen.

 ‘Is there a problem?’ Asked Jack, coming to inspect the monitor.

 ‘I'm not sure Commander, I’m in their system but..’

 ‘What is it?’

 ‘It was too easy, almost like I was let in. I’m familiar with Talons cyber security but this is..well a child could have accessed it.’ Winston gave a slight cough ‘A..er..very smart one atleast.’

 Torbjorn laughed ‘Well surely that's half our job done?’

 ‘Maybe what they have inside is not worth the protection?’ Offered McCree.

 ‘It’s enough to have guards, turrets and officials. It's important.’ Stated Ana ‘But Winston is right Jack, this could be a trap.’

 ‘If it was a trap the perimeter guard would have been prepared for us. Talon are arrogant, they don't expect an assault. Winston, shut down those turrets.’

 Winston looked toward Ana who gave a slight nod despite the frown on her face, sighing he continued typing on the keyboard as Ana looked through her scope. ‘And..that should do it’ He said looking up.

 Everyone waited and looked to Ana as she surveyed the gate, she smirked slightly as sure enough one turret slowly stopped moving, followed by another and another until each one had stopped.

 ‘Have they noticed?’ Asked Genji.

 Ana looked back and smiled, ‘None the wiser.’

 ‘Accessing perimeter turrets now.’ Said Winston, tapping further instructions to Athena ‘And..we are in! Perimeter and gate security disabled Commander, Captain.’

 Jack cocked his weapon and turnt to his team ‘Everyone in position and remember your roles! Advance!’

[acapelladitty]

How do you think Kyrie would react to meeting her "father-in-law"? How about Vergil?

Oddly enough, alongsidemy 'Vergil/Nero's mother origin' oneshot I am also working on a 'Neroinvites Vergil to meet Kyrie' fic too! I'll include an excerptbelow which I feel kinda summarises the whole dynamic (it’s being worked on atm so this is still a first draft) xx

Leaning back to survey the pair furtively, Vergil found that his attention was focused on Kyrie.

His son's chosen partner.

As she ran her hands through Nero's hair, it was obvious to Vergil how much his son loved this woman. It was written across his features and in the way that he leaned subconsciously into her touch. Even his energy radiated slightly stronger while she was in his immediate area.

The ease of the affection she showed him in both her physical actions and her utter confidence in his abilities and decision making spoke of her returned love. Every slight touch and smile was given freely and without hesitation or thought.

She reminded him of his lost mother.

“You should train her.” Despite holding eye contact with Nero, he indicated his hand in Kyrie’s direction. “She needs to know how to defend herself and deal with an attack. A human very rarely defeats a demon in battle.”

Feeling the slightest hint of embarrassment at his own unexpected comment and why the need to voice it had struck so suddenly, Vergil dipped his gaze down to his drink as Nero and Kyrie listened to his words.

Even to his own ears it sounded like a warning.

He did not want his son to experience a loss as painful as his those he had underwent.

“Kyrie can kick ass on her own.” Immediately coming to the defence of his partner, Nero narrowed his eyes as if daring his father to argue the point. “Even though i'll never let anything happen, I know she doesn't need me.”

Scoffing at the claim as he took a sip of his tea, Vergil was unable to hold back his disbelief.

The woman was soft to the core, in both body and soul. Her innocence radiated from her every action and mannerism to the point where it was almost blinding to one like himself who had seen so much darkness. He could not blame Nero for being drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“You don't think i'm a good match for Nero, Mr. Sparda?” Kyrie's soft voice carried over from her seated position, her words polite and yet tinged with something almost like disappointment.

The shift in atmosphere was instantaneous as Nero barely concealed the growl that had arisen in his throat at such an idea. His shoulders tense and his hands balled into fists, he would not stand for his great love to be insulted by anything or anyone. Particularly his estranged father.

Zeroing in his gaze on Kyrie, Vergil understood that her words had placed him in a very dangerous position indeed and that one wrong word would see this meeting descend into a vicious spar. He had not meant any insult with his suggestion but his foolish hot-headed spawn would fail to understand the subtitles of his speech.

As he opened his mouth to respond in the negative a spark of amusement lit up in Kyrie's expression and her brow raised slightly as she anticipated his answer.

Snapping his mouth shut again, the corners of his lips quirked up in his trademark smirk.

Impressive.

She had played him and she had played very well.

By putting him in this position she had essentially forced him into openly vocalising his approval of her as his son's partner or he would risk the considerable wrath of his son and harm his potential for any ongoing civilities.

Smart.

And that he could appreciate.

[lululeighsworld]

Losing You

The nightmares have always plagued his sleep. Since being summoned to the Order of Heroes, they've only escalated in severity.

Since Gunter in FEH has the line "I will have my revenge!" and was included in the 'Traitors' comic, I headcanon that he is from the Revelation timeline. This drabble is just one of many scenarios that I can imagine happening because of this. Please don't read forward if you're avoiding spoilers!

On AO3

A patch of the forest not far from the Order of Heroes’ Castle. The old knight recalled that he had visited this area many times before, whether it be to escape for a moment of solitude or to spend time with the Summoner. However, this time he had no memory of how or when he arrived, only one thought coursing through his mind as it resonates with hatred and vengeance: kill.

Gunter cannot do anything but watch as the Summoner falls to the ground screaming in agony as they clutch their abdomen. Blood quickly soaks through their blue tunic and white coat as the life drains from their face, looking up to him in both confusion and horror. He clenches the lance he had taken from the armoury tightly in his grip, dripping with their blood as he watches them gasping for air. They were going into shock.

“G-Gunter!? W-wh..!!” They try to speak through their tears and end up choking on merely air, the pain too unbearable to endure.

Now they suffer as you have for all these years, just as the Order of Heroes will when they find this discovery.

A monstrous voice echoes throughout Gunter’s mind, pounding against every inch of his skull. It’s the same vengeful force that’s prohibiting him from moving from the spot where he stands despite every heartache that’s telling him to help the Summoner. Anankos. So, his resistance against the ancient dragon had finally lost.

Take their weapon, then we flee to Embla. I will decide whether to destroy the weapon or not on the way there.

He knows exactly where Breidablik is kept, always clipped safely onto one of the belt loops on the Summoner’s left side. He has watched them fasten it their countless times over the past three years they’ve spent together, as well use it to summon new heroes to Askr’s ranks. He wouldn’t call it a weapon of defence, but it proved valuable nonetheless. The Order of Heroes could not be trusted with it.

Gunter kneels before the dying Summoner, still clinging to their last minutes of life, and reaches out with his free hand to grab the weapon as quickly as possible so that he can make his escape. However, a pale hand stained with the colour red reaches out to grab his, stopping him from his mission. He doesn’t need to glance down to know that it’s Leigh’s hand, but he does so anyway.

“G-Gunter…” They murmur, squeezing his hand with all the strength they must have left, “I-I’m sorry—that I couldn’t d-do enough… Th-that you w-weren’t able to f-find peace…”

At that moment, something snaps him back to his senses; whether it is their words or their shivering grip he does not know. With Anankos gone from his mind his emotions come flowing back to him, immediately tossing his lance aside so that he can survey the damage that  he’s   done. The grass surrounding the pair is soaked in Leigh’s blood, staining parts of his armour as he kneels further in it, picking up their body so that he can hold them in his arms. His hands are shaking now too, watching as the last bit of life in their eyes fades away. Just like before, he is too late to save them.

“Leigh!”

The old soldier bolts up out of bed as he gasps for air, covered in a cold sweat. Slowly his surroundings come back to him and he realizes that he’s in Leigh’s quarters, having decided to spend the night. He looks to his right and sees that the other is still sound asleep and alive, thankfully. It was only a nightmare.

Gunter rubs the sleep from his eyes and heads for the balcony, needing some fresh air to clear his racing mind. Although the nightmares came much less frequently than they did in the past, they seemed to make up for it in severity. Anankos’ grip on him remained strong even in this realm, now thirsting for the demise of the Order of Heroes. Should he tell Leigh about these nightmares and would they be as understanding, just like when he had told them about the initial situation? They still loved him even after all of that, insisting that they’d find some way to free him from the possession. But would Leigh fear him now after hearing the outcome of the nightmares? He sighed in frustration, the sight of it all still too recent in his memory. This one tonight had been by far the worst yet.

“Gunter? Is everything okay?”

He jumps and turns to see Leigh standing in the doorway, blanket wrapped around their shoulders and wearing a worried expression on their face. He’s almost hesitant to approach them, fearful that this also only a dream set up by Anankos to trick him into a false state of security. Leigh must see his shaking hands because they reach out to wrap theirs tightly around his, and it’s then that he pulls them close into a hug with his free arm. He needs this. This is not a dream.

“Everything is fine, just a bit shaken.” He says before taking in an unsteady breath. It takes him another moment for his breathing to return to normal.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Leigh knows his words and actions could mean any number of things, but they never want to force him into talking. He’s thankful for it as always, shaking his head no in response.

“Perhaps in the morning, once I’ve had some more rest.” It takes him another long moment to release Leigh from his hold as he needs to reassure himself that they won’t disappear once he lets go. They walk hand-in-hand back into the room and settle in comfortably for what they both hope is an undisturbed night of slumber. Gunter makes certain that the last thing he sees before drifting off is Leigh curled up beside him, once again sound asleep. At least until the morning, he could be comforted by the fact that his resistance was still strong.

[imagine-loki]

Unofferable, Part II

TITLE: Unofferable, Part II

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 7, Fallout AUTHOR: unofferable-fic ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine courting Loki in secret for a number of years. While you’re both more than happy with the arrangement and are genuinely in love, you can never make your relationship public because of your status as a mortal servant.

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Angst, impending doom. Playlist: “This Ladder is Ours” — The Joy Formidable, “When You Were Young - Piano Version” — A Silent Film, “Wish I Didn’t Miss You” — Angie Stone

The relief Ellie felt knowing that their plan had come to fruition didn’t last long. The hall erupted into manic pandemonium, with the crowds being controlled and guarded by armed groups of Einherjar. While screaming and confused yells rang out through the place, Rainger was quick to grab Ellie’s hand; whether it was to ensure her safety or to keep himself calm, she did not know.

“Hey,” she said, getting his attention when she noticed his panicked expression. “We’re okay, Rainger. We’re okay.”

“Didn’t you hear Odin?” he asked, eyes wide. “There’s Frost Giants in the palace! How in the name of the Norns did they get in here?”

Before she could even attempt to answer him, Odin’s voice sounded loudly. “Warriors! To the vaults.”

By his words, everyone sprung into action. Odin was down the steps in seconds and running from the hall. Thor was quick to trail behind, closely followed by the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. As Loki and Frigga appeared quite suddenly by their side, Ellie looked up at him, genuine worry now etched on her face.

“You two,” he said in a hurry. “Stay close to us. You are not to go out of my sight. Come!”

Sensing the urgency, she didn’t argue as Frigga grabbed her hand and the four of them quickly took after the other sprinters. Running through the palace halls was not something she thought would be on the agenda that day, but here they were. Despite the fact she knew how and why the Frost Giants ended up on Asgard, Ellie couldn’t help but feel anxious about how exactly things were going to play out from here. Loki was playing the part of the worried younger prince well, but then again, he was a professional lie-smith. Thankfully, he had taught her well, because no one seemed to suspect anything looking at either of them. But then again, why would they? Most people didn’t even know they were intimately involved…

The commotion in the throne room had moved out to the halls, with guards stationed at every door and some running to check different areas of the palace. Though Odin knew that Frost Giants were in the vaults, he had to make sure they hadn’t snuck in anywhere else, so crosschecking every area seemed appropriate. Though Ellie’s lungs began to burn from taking quick breaths, they reached the vaults below the palace swiftly enough. Odin and his sons were the first to enter, with Frigga, the warriors, and the hand servants hanging back at the steps beside the entrance. As the doors opened, she could feel the temperature change immediately. When she had gasped at the sight of the room, her breath became a visible mist in front of her face, a sure sign that the Jötunns had indeed been here. The entire room was covered in ice, frost clinging to the stone walls with smoke rising from the extinguished fires at the entrance. Scattered blocks of ice and the remains of the Jötunns are strewn about the place, along with the two dead Einherjar. She couldn’t help but cringe at the sight of their twisted bodies. Everyone lowered their weapons upon realising that the threat had already been dealt with — the presence of a massive figure at the end of the hall ensured that. It was an imposing figure — standing to its full height and towering over every single one of them. Beneath it’s metal exterior glowed hot flames, ones which held the power to turn a person to ash with a single blast of fire. Ellie had heard of its ability from tales told by the Odinson brothers themselves, and it only furthered her genuine fear of the sentinel.

“The Destroyer,” Sif gasped under her breath.

Volstagg looked at it in awe. “I thought it was but a legend.”

As the flames within its chest finally dwindled down again, it stepped back into its post, the wall reforming to hide it once more.

“I have never been inside the Vault before,” Fandral began, looking about the place uncomfortably. “It is said the Tesseract was once held here.”

The Tesseract? She had heard of that before from conversations with Thor and Loki. It was a blue, glowing, crystalline cube that apparently housed a great power. It was however lost many years ago on Earth and hadn’t been seen since. It was however briefly unearthed during World War II, before again disappearing God knows where. But like Fandral, she had never gone near the vault before, so she was happy to get a look at all the relics that were housed there.

Volstagg gasped aloud, clearly amazed by what was going on. “The Tesseract? I thought that was but a legend too!”

Sif was quick to shush them both as Odin surveyed the damage, approaching what Ellie assumed to be the Casket of Ancient Winters on its podium. Thor and Loki stood either side of him, looking about in dismay.

“The Jötunns must pay for what they have done!” the former declared, Mjölnir in his eager hand.

“They have paid,” Odin replied dismissively. “With their lives. The Destroyer did its job, and the Casket is safe, and all is well.”

“‘All is well?’” Thor looked at Loki indignantly, then back to his father. “They broke into the Weapons Vault! If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics—”

“They didn’t.”

“Well, I want to know why!”

Ellie cringed at Thor’s tone, biting her lip so that she would refrain from blurting out anything incriminating. Despite her involvement in the turn of events, she couldn’t help but wonder how Odin let such a petulant tone go unpunished. If Loki ever dared to speak to the Allfather like that, he would surely be reprimanded accordingly…

With his eyes still firmly fixed on the Casket, Odin explained himself. “I have a truce with Laufey, King of the Jötunns.”

“He just broke your truce! They know you are vulnerable!”

Turning to finally face his enraged son, Odin glanced at his comrades and his wife. “Leave us.”

With a small amount of hesitance, Ellie glanced at the silent Loki before she turned and followed the others out of the vaults.

“Well,” Fandral began, back to his usual sarcastic self. “Thor will certainly be getting an earful.”

“Oh, hush,” Sif insisted. “I have heard enough from you.”

“Warriors Three,” Frigga began, getting their attention. “I ask that you join Asgard’s forces in ensuring that there are no other Frost Giants sneaking about the palace. Once the all clear is given, you can go about your business.” After receiving three replies of ‘Yes, Allmother’, she turned to Lady Sif. “I would ask that you remain here with Rainger, Ellie, and I. It would be wise to keep a warrior by our side until we are told all is well again.”

“Of course, My Queen,” Sif agreed with a slight bow of the head.

Frigga then looked at the two hand servants who were still visibly uncomfortable. “There is nothing to worry about, dears. Whatever breach through which they came, it shall be found and blocked. You are both safe with us. Come, we shall wait within my chambers.”

Ellie and Rainger were not waiting within the royal chambers for long before the Einherjar returned mid-afternoon to tell the Queen that there were no Frost Giants to be found on Asgard. It seemed that the attacked was carried out by but a few who were subsequently killed by the Destroyer. That being said, Frigga did a good job of easing their worries by making tea and chatting to them about anything and everything. It wasn’t long after when Loki arrived, looking grim but relieved that they were all alright.

Once he hugged his mother, he turned to Rainger. “You should return to your family. Thor is in no mood for company, friendly or otherwise. After today, you should get some rest.”

“Of course, Prince Loki,” the younger man replied. “Thank you. Give Thor my regards.”

“I shall. It might also be best if Lady Sif accompanies you there, since Odin is still unsure as to where they came from.”

“Where is your father?” Frigga asked him, looking somewhat worried.

“With the troops, keeping them company while they scout Asgard for possible breaches.”

“And your brother?”

Loki grimaced slightly and said. “He is…stomping about the palace. He is not happy that his big day was interrupted.”

“No surprises there,” Rainger muttered grimly.

“He will be alright. It is best to leave him for a day and return to your normal duties tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Prince Loki.” With a bow, Rainger took his leave, Lady Sif walking by his side so that he would make it home without incident.

As soon as they left and it was just the three of them in the room, Loki swept Ellie into his arms and pulled her into a crushing hug. She knew that his concern was mostly for show — to convey their false image of innocence — but the feeling of his strong arms circling her waist gave her some much needed relief. She buried her face in his chest without hesitation, unconcerned with Frigga’s presence even though she was never one to judge. She could feel his emotions anyway; all the relief, the exhaustion, the delight knowing that their plan had actually worked. She allowed herself to be selfish for a moment, forgetting about Thor’s apparent distain for having his moment interrupted. For once, she genuinely cared little for anyone other than her prince.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, leaning back so that he could gently cup her face in his hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she insisted. “Are you? What happened on the vault?”

“Let us just say that Thor was more willing to…teach the Frost Giants a lesson, while Father was more interested in sealing the breach in our defences. He received a scolding, and is not amused. I am sure it has added to his current tantrum-throwing.”

“I cannot say that I am surprised by his reaction,” Frigga began. “But hopefully he just needs the day to calm himself. Once we find out how the Frost Giants entered Asgard, we can organise his coronation.”

“Do not tell Thor that. He will be livid when he hears that his big day has been not only interrupted, but pushed back as well.”

“Thor needs to concern himself with safety as this realm,” Frigga replied, her tone conveying that of a disappointed mother. “And less with his big day. His day will come once we solve this issue and he must understand that. That is what a king must do.”

“You do not need to tell me twice, Mother. I am sure that Thor will see reason.”

“That he will. Now, you two best go back to your quarters while all the commotion dies down.”

“But what about you?” Ellie asked in concern. “We can’t leave you here on your own.”

“I agree, love.” Loki sent his mother a warm smile. “Come, we will have some tea to pass the time and then Ellie and I will take our leave.”

Probably delighted to spend some quality time with her son and his beloved, Frigga agreed to the suggestion with ease. Though Ellie was still nervous about all that occurred, she found it a lot easier to relax around the Queen, and Loki’s equally calm company always helped too. They didn’t stay for long and soon returned to his quarters for some privacy. 

As soon as he locked the door behind him, he looked at her with nervous excitement and said. “I need to speak with you.”

Taking a seat at his dining table, Elliw eyed him curiously. “Is somethin’ wrong?”

“Not at all,” he replied and quickly took a seat next to her, elbows resting on his thighs as he clasped his hands together. “Considering all that occurred today, everything went exactly as planned.”

“Well, that’s certainly a relief. Then what’s up?”

“Thor. More specifically, Thor’s reaction to this whole debacle. He has reacted in a far more aggressive manner than I had previously predicted. I knew he would be angry, and I knew he would want to teach the Jötunns a lesson, but he seemed intent on going to Jotunheim and starting a war.”

Ellie’s brow furrowed at that, leaning forward in her seat. “A war?”

“Yes. That is what he suggested to Father in the vaults. Upon being asked what action he would take after you were all dismissed, Thor said he would march into Jotunheim and ‘teach them a lesson’, so that they would never again dream of trespassing upon Asgard. He says that it was an act of war.”

“Oh, God,” she muttered under her breath. “I knew he’d be annoyed, but how can he justify wantin’ to start a war with the Frost Giants? Especially when you’s have an uneasy truce as it is.”

“It was somewhat surprising, yes, but not exactly out of character. If he had been crowned before the attack took place, I fear we would be marching down the Bifröst as we speak.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t be wrong.” She sighed heavily, her head in her hands, before she met her lover’s gaze again. “I’m assumin’ Odin was havin’ none of it?”

“Of course. That was to be expected, but he is not wrong. The truce is delicate and one cannot risk tossing that aside as it stands, even if the Frost Giants are despicable beasts.”

“This is already paintin’ a great picture of King Thor…”

“Do not fret, darling,” he whispered, his lips slowly forming a smirk. “Thor’s outburst may in fact work in our favour.”

She wasn’t sure why, but the overly-familiar feeling of unease was creeping up yet again. “Care to elaborate?”

“Thor’s reaction to these events was that of a warrior, as my father told him in the vaults. I think it may have been a reason for Odin to question whether Thor is ready to take on the responsibilities that come with being a king. Though I doubt this event alone would deter Odin, I think it was a small wake up call. We could, however, manipulate this to fit our agenda by giving Thor a very gentle push.”

“Loki…” She shook her head, already not liking where this was going. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“It’s alright,” he reassured her, gently taking a hold of her hands. “Ellie, look at me. Remember what we said? That we would be here for each other no matter what happens? Just listen to what I have to say for a moment.” When she didn’t utter a word, he pressed onwards. “Thor is angry and you know how reckless he can be when he’s like this. If he had his way, if Odin had not forbade it, he would march straight into Jotunheim with an army on his heels. As you and I know, this is not how a king should act. If anything, Father should have noticed this in the vaults and said something right away. And yet, he didn’t. What I think, is that Father may delay Thor’s coronation for far longer if he were to act on these feelings. If he hears that his eldest son intends to defy his orders by starting a war with another realm, he will most certainly consider him an unworthy candidate for rule. Surely he would delay the coronation yet again to give Thor the teachings he needs in order to act as king.

“What I am suggesting is that I plant a seed in Thor’s head; I shall encourage his reckless behaviour so that he does indeed decide to go to Jotunheim himself. But, before he can even get to the realm, I will inform Father of the development and stop him before his plan can be carried out. Surely after that the crowning will be delayed indefinitely and my marriage along with it.”

“I don’t know how I feel ’bout that,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “That’s really pushin’ it.”

“Not particularly,” Loki disagreed, but not unkindly. “You agreed with me about Thor being an unfit king. If anything, his reaction to the infiltration is further proof of that, no?”

“Well, yes, but are we not pushin’ our luck?” Her stomach was flipping nervously, her thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand in an attempt to calm herself. She thought they could be done with all of this, and yet here they were, plotting yet again. “Look, the original plan worked and that’s great! Why do we need’ta do this?”

“Because we have only delayed my marriage temporarily,” he explained. “This will surely stop it for a far longer period of time.”

“This is madness, Loki.”

“Of course it is,” he laughed. “This whole plan is madness, but it has worked so far. You could probably call our relationship madness as well. I will not let anything happen to you, alright? I will not even let anything happen to Thor — Father will reprimand him before he can even step foot near Laufey.”

Ellie had to be honest, his promises were swaying her in his favour. Was there really any severe harm if Loki was to end a war before it even had a chance to begin? All Odin would see is a man not yet fit to be king. No one would get hurt, and she and Loki would be free to court as they pleased without worrying about his impending marriage. Ensuring that Thor is not crowned meant that Loki would never wed Lady Sigyn…

“Do you trust me?” he asked her after a moment, pulling his chair forward in an attempt to be closer to her.

“Do you even need to ask?” she replied with a sad smile. “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me when I say this will be the last scheme. After this, there will be no need to try anything else. My marriage will by prevented and we can continue as we once were. Believe me when I say that this will be the end of it.”

“Right,” she sighed and let her head rest on his shoulder. “Well then I guess we need to go give Thor a shove.”

The feeling of his arms encasing her in a warm hug was somewhat reassuring despite the new uncertainty that consumed her mind. “It will be alright. Worry not, little one. This will be the end of it.”

“It better be,” she said, her voice muffled by the material of his clothes. “This is excessive schemin’, even for you.”

He chuckled at that, his warm breath ghosting over her neck. “I thought you loved my scheming? It is part of my title.”

“I do but this is more than I’m used to.”

“Well, it’s good that this is the last of it then.” With a kiss on her cheek, he let his chin rest on her head. “We should go find Thor before he has a chance to simmer down.”

“Any idea where he is?”

“I am sure the guards will be able to point us in his direction, what with his stomping around.”

Sure enough, Loki was right. A number of Einherjar were happy to tell them that they last Thor thundering towards the banquet hall, and the resounding crash and roar that echoed from outside its doors was proof enough that he was indeed inside. 

“Did he just flip the table?” Ellie asked as the two of them slipped through the entrance and walked along the top of the steps overlooking the late afternoon sky.

“I did tell you he was furious,” Loki whispered as Thor took a seat on the steps, looking completely dejected and frustrated. Before him was an upended table — presumably by his hands — with plates, food, and wine spilling out over the massive floor.

Loki approached Thor slowly, each of his footsteps planting softly on the steps as he took a seat next to him, while Ellie sat herself on the Trickster’s left.

“It’s unwise to be in my company right now,” Thor grumbled, glancing at them briefly. Then, with more passion, he continued. “This was to be my day of triumph!”

“It will come,” Loki reassured him with a hushed voice. “In time.”

“He’s right, Thor,” Ellie agreed. “It might not be today, but it’ll be soon.”

At that moment, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three came bursting into the hall.

Volstagg looked positively aghast at the sight of the destruction. “What’s this?”

While Thor payed no attention to his friends, Loki briefly frowned at their arrival before turning to speak to his brother, his silver tongue doing what it was best at. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’re right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard’s defences once, who is to say they won’t try again? Next time, with an army.”

“Exactly!” Thor declared, looking relieved to have someone validate his feelings.

“There is nothing you can do without defying Father.”

At that, Thor turned to face his brother, the gears visibly turning in his head.

Loki’s eyes went wide just as Thor got to his feet. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! I know that look!”

“It is the only way to ensure the safety of our borders!” Thor said with determination, pointing a finger at his sibling.

“Thor, it’s madness!” Loki insisted, trying to deter him.

“What?” Ellie asked, looking between them. “You’re not suggestin’—”

“Madness?” Volstagg asked from where he stood, quickly gathering a massive plate of food. “What sort of madness?”

There was a beat of silence before Thor spoke with resounding confidence. “We’re going to Jotunheim.”

At that, Ellie noticed Loki gulp. He was intrigued by what had occurred, but she could easily spot the excited glint in his eye. Another one of his plans was well underway and he quickly turned to look back at her. She kept her expression as one which conveyed shock, of course. She was back to playing the part, but if it was to ensure her and Loki would  remain together, then she couldn’t exactly complain.

But she had faith in Loki. 

After all, he had promised her.

[superseraphim7]

Trump’s Administration Has Been Briefed About UFOs; According To Steven Greer

donald trumpWhat do presidents know about UFOs? Well, if you’re an avid researcher of the topic, you’ve probably realized by now that presidents don’t really have a “need to know” about these things. The “military-industrial complex” that Eisenhower spoke of, which has become as uncontrollably powerful as he feared, has completely taken over operations that not even the president knows about. Many from within political realms who’ve held esteemed positions have spoken out about this fact.

Take Paul Hellyer for example, a former Canadian Defense Minister, who gave lecture at the University of Toronto in 2008 where he said it is “ironic that the U.S. would begin a devastating war, allegedly in search of weapons of mass destruction when the most worrisome developments in this field are occurring in your own backyard.” He was referring to black budget special access programs, which receive no oversight from Congress. This means that not even the government knows about the developments happening in this area, all for “national security” purposes.

It is ironic that the U.S. should be fighting monstrously expensive wars allegedly to bring democracy to those countries, when it itself can no longer claim to be called a democracy when trillions, and I mean thousands of billions of dollars have been spent on projects which both congress and the commander in chief know nothing about.

To The Stars Academy

It’s almost 2019, and the topic of UFOs has exploded into the mainstream, especially with former rock superstar Tom Delonge gathering defense intelligence officials, world-renowned scientists and more to relay this information to the public via the ‘To The Stars Academy.’ They’ve already released multiple videos of UFOs, and have publicly stated that there are programs within the government that study this phenomenon.

They have Luis Elizondo, a former director of a government ‘aerospace threat identification’ program. This was all disclosed via establishment mouthpieces like the New York Times and the Washington Post. They’ve also admitted to recovering materials from these ‘unidentified’ objects. You can read the latest updates about what’s going on with that and mainstream UFO disclosure, in general, below.

Black Budget Projects

The black budget is something we easily get information about, and for those who try to bring out information it is difficult to investigate. One example is the efforts of journalists Dana Priest and William Arkin of the Washington Post in 2010. Their investigation lasted approximately two years and concluded that America’s classified world has “become so large, so unwieldy and so secretive that no one knows how much money it costs, how many people it employs, and how many programs exist within it or exactly how many agencies do the same work.” You can read more about that, and see more examples, in this CE article.

Here is one of many statements from people who have been “in the know” so to speak. There are thousands of verified quotes on this subject, and we now have the electro-optical data and evidence to back up all of this witness testimony.

We have, indeed, been contacted – perhaps even visited – by extraterrestrial beings, and the US government, in collusion with the other national powers of the Earth, is determined to keep this information from the general public. (Second Look, Volume 1, No 7, Washington, DC, May, 1979)

What are the intentions of the cabal when it comes to UFO disclosure? We’ve been lied to about so many things by them, that it’s become hard to believe anything we hear from mainstream mouthpieces. Presidents George Bush and Barack Obama, who I believe are establishment puppets, have brought up the subject, acknowledged it, but have refused to share any information on it. They did so in cryptic, often comedic ways on popular television, on the Jimmy Kimmel show. It’s hard to know what to make of their comments, or even their overall knowledge about this.

So What About Trump?

Has Donald Trump been briefed? Yes he has, according to Dr. Steven Greer. Greer is the founder of The Disclosure Project, an initiative that has brought forth hundreds of military/defense/political personnel from all over the world, with verified credentials, to publicly share their testimony about their experiences with UFOs and extraterrestrials. He also released a film last year, called “Unacknowledged.” It was one of the most popular, if not the most popular film on Itunes & Netflix in 2017. It’s highly recommended if you are new to this subject and don’t already know much about it.

Greer has amassed great credibility for his claims. For example, many years ago he claimed to have had meetings at the Pentagon with some very high-ranking people. After this, Apollo astronaut Dr. Edgar Mitchell admitted that he also attended these meetings with Greer. What came out of these meetings is that not many people knew the details of this topic, nor wanted to discuss it. Wikileaks documents have also been released which saw astronaut Edgar Mitchell communicate with US politician John Podesta. You can access those documents and read more about them here.

He’s been able to develop relationships with individuals he has interviewed from various branches and ranks of the military as well as within the intelligence and defence communities.

In my opinion, Podesta, Clinton, Obama and Bush are all cabal puppets. Therefore, anything they say about terrorism, national security, or UFOs, is probably lathered up with some ‘disinformation’ soap. Without this point, if we completely disregard it, there is still more than enough evidence to show that they are simply following the will of their masters. But that’s a topic for another article, back to UFOs!

Greer says he has briefed people close to Trump about the UFO/extraterrestrial issue in this interview. He has also claimed to have briefed past presidents, like Obama and Clinton, and provides those documents on his website, Sirius Disclosure. It seems credible, especially when his claim to have had high-level meetings within the Pentagon was verified by Dr. Edgar Mitchell.

White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders has so far not answered any questions that have been asked about UFOs. Will There Ever Be A Full Mainstream UFO Disclosure?

Given the fact that this topic seems to be controlled by a small group of very powerful people who gets to decide what humanity can and can’t know, I’d say that as long as this group maintains power, the reality of UFOs and extraterrestrial beings will be hidden from humanity in official channels. A censorship plan has also been spoken about for years by those within. Roscoe Hiellenkoetter, the first director of the CIA, for example, pointed out decades ago in the New York Times that, “through an official campaign of secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are led to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense.” He went on to state that they are operating under intelligent control.

That being said, there is a serious effort by multiple nations, and perhaps those within this power structure as well, to reveal these truths to humanity. This is evident by all of the whistle-blowers with verified credentials who have shared their experiences, as well as the release of evidence in the form of radar trackings and electro-optical data.. There is a serious push for mainstream disclosure, this can’t be denied and is quite evident by the article linked earlier. Establishment mouthpieces are slowly disclosing this reality.

In 1979 Spanish General Carlos Cavero told the world the following:

“Everything in a process of investigation both in the United States and in Spain, as well as the rest of the world. The nations of the world are currently working together in the investigation of the UFO phenomenon an international exchange of data.” (via Richard Dolan, “UFOs & The National Security State”)

Why Any Disclosure At All?

Why would the New York Times, CNN and the rest of them share any of this truth? Can we believe what they say? Perhaps not everything they say is false, but for years we’ve seen major geopolitical issues completely twisted by the mainstream media, and evidence of ‘perception manipulation’ that is fostered by their close relationship with US intelligence agencies. There is also the testimony of multiple award-winning mainstream media journalists who emphasize how mainstream media outlets are paid by governments, corporations and intelligence agencies to present a specific narrative.

Is the establishment trying to lay the foundation for a ‘war against aliens’ like they made a ‘war against drugs’ and a ‘war terror?’ Or are we seeing the white hats within these groups push for the disclosure of information? All this remains to be seen, but we must understand why this topic would be extremely difficult to disclose and to be honest, it’s probably a mix of both.

For one, you have the energy question. These crafts are clearly not using petroleum. Have we harvested technology from these crafts? If released, what would that mean for the oil industry and our economy? Who would benefit, who would lose? What about the historical questions, the scientific questions? What about our laws of science and what we understand about ourselves and perhaps human origin? What about the idea that there are intelligent extraterrestrials surveying, visiting, and interacting with people here on Earth!

Tremendous Implications

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, the disclosure of this information leaves no area of humanity untouched. As you can imagine, it has tremendous implications and it’s something that would change the world forever. I am sure the existence of extraterrestrials and the fact that we’ve been visited and are being visited, is not even the tip of the iceberg when it comes to discovery.

Most important will be the impact on consciousness, the deeper investigation into metaphysical realities, and the validation of non-material science. One can expect that disclosure will impact our understanding of who we are and why we are here, and perhaps there is some sort of spiritual lesson to be reaped from the realization that we are not the only ones. There is a CE podcast featuring CE founder Joe Martino, myself, and a “contactee” who discuss this exact topic. You can listen to that, it’s linked at the bottom of this article, for more information.

The Takeaway

Humanity is just now waking up, and ready to take the steps necessary to move out of infancy. Understand “them” will help us to understand ourselves. We are all connected in some strange form, and the future is exciting. It’s a topic that, most importantly, we DON’T have to be afraid of or react to with fear, despite the fact that that this type of reaction seems to have been programmed into us. We need to deprogram ourselves from what Hollywood has presented us with, and start to examine the actual evidence and what’s really going on here.

I don’t believe you have to be afraid to discuss or talk about this topic with your peers and your family anymore. It’s no longer taboo, and the more we speak up, speak out, and generate discussion, the closer we get to finding out what’s really going on. It’s definitely an exciting time to be alive.

[torestoreamends]

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Fic: View from the top

2.8k words, G rated

Draco and Scorpius are having an evening out at the opera to celebrate Scorpius's O.W.L. results. It might be the best evening that Scorpius has ever had with his dad.

This one started as a birthday gift for the lovely @eldabe, but due to the subject matter it has also become a 'congratulations on your exams' present for @ohscorbus. You're both awesome and deserve the best.

I challenged myself to try and write a fic where the Malfoys are a happy family of two, and they bond as a pair without everything revolving around Astoria. I hope I did a good job!

Beta'd by title-comer-upper-with extraordinaire, @abradystrix.

*

Scorpius fiddles with the stiff cuffs of his shirt and peers over the bannister at the people below. There are still twenty minutes to go before the show starts, but the auditorium is already getting full. The room is full of a quiet buzz of chatter, and there's a sort of humming excitement in the air, an energy and anticipation. Scorpius can feel it catching hold of him, making his smile grow wider as he leans his arms on the ledge and tries to take it all in. 

It's been so long since he and his dad came to the opera together, the last time must have been a year or two before his mum died. In fact, it's been so long since they did anything together. As good as things have been, there just hasn't been time. There have been holidays and revision for exams and dinner parties and Albus coming to stay, and suddenly it's almost sixth year, Scorpius is almost seventeen, and he's just received his O.W.L. results. 

So much has happened in the last couple of years that he feels like he's been caught in a whirlwind. But it's been a good whirlwind. He knows what it's like to have life come crashing down around him, and recently it's felt like everything's been building back up again, falling into place around him. Life is good now. Life is brilliant. And Scorpius feels truly happy. 

The door to the box opens behind him and he turns round on his seat to see his dad entering the room backwards, two glasses in his hands. Scorpius grins at him. 

"I thought you'd got lost on the way to the bar." 

"No," Draco says. "There was just the most horrendous queue." He shakes his head and his ponytail switches irritably from side to side. "And then the two witches in front of me took about half an hour to decide which cocktails they wanted. They'd already had so long to choose, but apparently it wasn't long enough." 

Scorpius gets up and holds the door so his dad doesn't spill anything. "I'm sorry it was such a traumatic experience for you." 

"I'm not sure how I'll move on with my life." Draco holds one of the glasses out to him. "Here. Congratulatory champagne for my Outstanding son." He smiles, and Scorpius feels his cheeks going warm as he beams and takes the glass. 

"Thanks, Dad," he murmurs. He cradles the glass carefully in his hands as he returns to his seat and sits down. His dad sits beside him and looks across at him. 

"Have I mentioned yet how extraordinarily proud of you I am?" Draco asks. 

Scorpius shakes his head and meets his dad's eyes. "You know, I'm not really sure," he says with a grin, because his dad hasn't gone five minutes all day without telling him. He'd even heard his dad Firecalling Harry earlier and gushing about his results. 

"I can't quite remember if it's come up," he continues. "Maybe you should say it again just to make sure." 

Draco sets his glass of champagne down and turns to face Scorpius, expression serious. "I couldn't be more proud of you if I tried, Scorpius. After everything you've been through, to excel at school. I know it wasn't easy. It took a lot of hard work and you deserve this success. You are exceptional." He leans back in his seat and a small smile crosses his face. "Remind me again what you got?"

Scorpius ducks his head, trying to hide the fact that his grin has grown so wide that his cheeks are aching. "I've already told you a hundred-"

"Humour me." 

He sighs and rolls his eyes. He knows his dad has already copied the letter and probably has it framed on the wall of his office by now. His dad knows his grades off by heart, he'd recited them to Harry earlier. He might even know them better than Scorpius. But it's worth repeating them just to see his dad's smile expand as he does, just to prolong the glowing expression of sheer pride and joy on his face. 

"Fine, I got Outstanding in everything, apart from Potions and Herbology where I got Exceeds Expectations."

"You see?" His dad says. "Brilliant."  

Scorpius takes a sip of champagne because he doesn't know what else to do with himself. Ever since the owl arrived this morning he hasn't quite known what to say or do. There's the half of him that just wants to lie in bed and cry with relief, and there's the other half that won't stop smiling. 

"I'm really happy," he says finally, looking down at the pale bubbles rising through the golden liquid. 

"You should be," his dad says, voice softening. 

Scorpius nods and runs his finger round the rim of his glass, making it sing. "You know what, though? I think I'm most proud of Albus getting that Outstanding in History of Magic." He smiles at his dad. "I know half the questions were about Harry, but still."

"You taught him well," Draco says, picking his glass up and leaning against the bannister. He glances over at the people below, then looks back at Scorpius. "Do you think you'll carry on with History Magic next year? It's always been your favourite subject, hasn't it?" 

Scorpius swallows and turns his glass round in his hand. They've finally reached the point of discussing next year. He'd known it would happen eventually, that his dad would ask about his plans. It was only a matter of time. But he's still not really ready for it. He's never discussed his future with his dad, not properly anyway. It always felt like entirely too much to explain, and he didn't want to try and start until he knew his plans might be possible. And now they are. No excuses left. 

He leans against the bannister next to his dad and stares down into the auditorium. He can see the top of one wizard's pointed hat right below him, and he feels sorry for whoever's sitting behind him. They won't be able to see a thing. 

"I-I don't know if I'll have room on my timetable," he says softly. "For History of Magic. I don't think they would let me take six subjects." 

Draco frowns at him. "Five subjects without History of Magic? You've already decided what you're taking, then?" 

Scorpius meets his eyes and nods. "I knew what I'd want to take, if I got the grades." 

Draco gives him an encouraging, curious little smile. "Go on. You've never told me what your plans were." 

Scorpius takes a deep breath and ticks them off on his fingers as he speaks. "Herbology, Potions, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration." 

Draco considers for a moment. "The five most prestigious subjects. I'd expect nothing less. You've always liked a challenge." 

"I have," Scorpius says quietly, looking away from his dad. He twists his fingers together and stares down at them. 

"Does this mean you want to work for the Ministry?" His dad asks, apparently still thinking hard to work out what the choices mean. "I always thought you'd be bored in a mundane office job, but perhaps I was wrong. Or are you interested in the Department of Mysteries? Or becoming an Auror. I'm not sure I'd trust Potter to take good enough care of-"

"St Mungo's," Scorpius blurts out all at once, as the truth finally breaks through the wall of restraint he's built up inside him for so many years. He takes a steadying breath. "I want to work at St Mungo's. I want to be a Healer." 

He glances up to see that his dad is now scrutinising him as if he's seeing him for the very first time. His expression has taken on an unreadable quality that makes Scorpius feel very nervous. He has no way to judge what his dad is thinking about this information. All he can do is sit here and hope that the reaction isn't going to turn out to be a negative one. 

"You used to talk about being a Healer when you were younger," Draco says finally. "I thought you'd changed your mind since then, but I suppose I was wrong." He links his fingers together, resting them on the bannister, but he doesn't stop surveying Scorpius for a moment. "What area of Healing are you interested in?" 

"Spell Damage," Scorpius says without hesitation. "I-I like Transfiguration, it's my favourite subject. I've always been good at Spellwork, and I love Spell Theory. I think the construction of spells is absolutely fascinating. I wish we could have studied it more at O.W.L., particularly the way Counter-Charms and Counter-Curses work. But I know we'll study it more at N.E.W.T., and I'm excited to learn more. I'm excited to... to learn enough to help people." 

His dad's expression changes infinitesimally, enough for Scorpius to notice, but not enough for Scorpius to understand, so he ploughs on, hoping that all will become clear eventually, and that when it does it won't spell disaster for his career plans. 

"I think that it's important to try and do something worthwhile," Scorpius says softly, inspecting his fingers so he doesn't have to look at his dad. "I think that there's too much suffering in the world, and if I can maybe make there be a bit less... It seems like the right thing to do. And I can't be an Auror – running round blasting things is Albus's department but it definitely isn't mine – so I thought Healing might- might be a good alternative. I thought I might still be able to-"

He stalls as his dad puts a hand on his shoulder. Surprised, he looks up and meets his dad's eyes, and when he does he discovers that his dad's eyes are sparkling with unshed tears. 

Scorpius swallows. "Dad?" 

"I think," Draco says, voice just a little shaky, "that you will be an exceptional Healer, and that St Mungo's will be lucky to have you." He pauses for a moment and just looks at Scorpius, and Scorpius feels very warm and very full inside, a little bit like he might start crying himself. 

"Okay," he whispers. 

"In fact, I think the whole Wizarding World is lucky to have you. And I know I certainly am." Draco squeezes Scorpius's shoulder, then he seems to decide that that isn't enough, because he pulls Scorpius into a tight, warm hug, and Scorpius buries his face in his dad's shoulder and squeezes his eyes tight shut to keep the tears at bay. 

For a long minute they stay like that, hugging as tight as they can. Scorpius is happy to be crushed against his dad's chest. Hugs like this hold him together, make him stronger, give him confidence. At times like this the weight of his dad's love is overwhelming in the best possible way. He doesn't know what to do with it all, but he's glad to know that he has it. Maybe one day he'll get used to moments like this, they'll be commonplace, but he certainly hasn't yet, so each and every one is a startling and wonderful revelation. 

When Draco finally pulls back, he brushes the back of his hand briefly across his cheek and gives a quiet sniff. Then he turns and looks out at the auditorium below them. 

"I'm sure you got better O.W.L. results than everyone else in this room," he says.

Scorpius gives a shaky laugh and leans on the bannister next to him. "Do you think?" He points to someone in the crowd below them. "She looks smart. I bet she got good results." 

Draco shakes his head. "Not as good as yours." 

Scorpius nudges him on the arm and smiles. "Fine," he says. "What about that one down there?" He peers over the bannister and points to someone right below him. "I bet they- I don't know. I bet they work for the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable, and they got 17 Outstanding O.W.L.s." 

"That's not possible," Draco says, smiling and shaking his head. 

"They built a Time-Turner," Scorpius proposes with a grin. "They built a Time-Turner so they could take a million different classes. In fact that was how they got their job as an Unspeakable. Because their Time-Turner construction was so impressive."

Draco snorts and ruffles Scorpius's hair. "That's ridiculous. No. Face it Scorpius." He gestures grandly to the whole auditorium. "You are simply better than all these people." 

Scorpius laughs and leans against his dad's side. "That might be the most Malfoy thing you've ever said, Dad." 

Draco smiles and wraps an arm round him. "I can't help it if it's true." 

Scorpius rolls his eyes. He wriggles his chair as close to his dad's as he can get and leans his head on his dad's shoulder. "We haven't done something like this for years," he murmurs, looking at the red velvet curtain covering the front of the stage. "I've missed it." 

Draco looks down at him. "It has been a while, hasn't it."

"The last time was for my eleventh birthday," Scorpius says. "Before I even started school." He glances at Draco, who blinks down at him in surprise.

"Has it really been that long? How did the time go so fast? You're almost seventeen now." 

Scorpius lifts his head and glares at his dad. "Do you have to remind me how old I am? That's rude." 

His dad smirks at him. "Imagine how I feel." 

Scorpius folds his arms. "I try not to. You're ancient, Dad. You're older than Harry, and he's starting to go grey." 

Draco's smirk broadens until it's almost a grin and his eyes are sparkling. "I may be older than Potter but I am also wiser. And there are advantages to our hair, Scorpius. Malfoys don't go grey. Your grandfather used to joke that we'd found the secret to immortality. Tragically not the case, but..." He reaches out and ruffles Scorpius's hair again. "You should be very grateful." 

"Albus says that my hair's so white I practically glow in the dark," Scorpius says with a smile. "If only. That would make it a lot easier to read after lights out." 

"You should sleep more," Draco says wagging a finger at him. "You'll need your rest while you're doing your N.E.W.T.s. I don't want you exhausting yourself and getting burned out. And be careful with your eyes too. I have terrible eyesight and your mother's was no better. Don't ruin yours too with all those late night reading sessions." 

"I look good in glasses though," Scorpius says, taking another sip of his champagne. "I could get glasses just like Harry's. Albus would hate that." 

Draco shakes his head. "No, you couldn't. I refuse to let my son wear glasses like Harry Potter. I know they're a fad that everyone is horribly invested in, but they look ridiculous and always have." 

"Fine," Scorpius says. "So I won't get glasses like Harry's. But I do want some at some point. They make me look studious, and studiousness is an aesthetic I quite like." 

Draco gives him a very proud smile at that. "I've raised you well," he says, and Scorpius nods and wraps an arm round his dad. 

"Yes you have. You've raised a ginormous geek." 

"You said it," Draco says with a sly smile. "Not me."

Scorpius grins and hugs his dad as tight as he can. 

After that they lapse into silence for a little bit. Scorpius leans against his dad's side as the seconds tick away and the buzz of chatter in the auditorium grows louder and louder. The three tiers around them fill up with excited faces, and Scorpius feels his own anticipation growing as the show approaches. 

Except he doesn't think it's just the performance that he's excited for. It's everything. Life. The coming school year. Seeing Albus again. His classes, his career, all those chances for late night study sessions by wandlight. He has so much to look forward to, and he's ready for all of it. He wants it right now, whatever the future has to offer him, and it's been a while since he could last say that. But today – today he knows that life is good, and that life will be good. 

"Dad," he murmurs as the lights in the auditorium begin to dim and the talk subsides into a silence that crackles with energy and atmosphere. "I really am happy." 

The opening bars of the music swell into a glorious crescendo as the curtain lifts. His dad looks at him, then he leans across, kisses the top of his head, and pulls him into a tight hug. "I think I am too." 

[shoonyamagazine-blog]

MARITAL RAPE: CRAWLING TOWARDS CONSERVATISM

The movie “Lipstick Under My Burqha” struck the right chord with me. Not because it boasts of feminism, but because it had underlying tones and shadow of something so relevant in today’s scenario yet unspoken about. Yes, I am talking about the helpless circumstances of millions of women in India depicted through the screams of Konkana Sen Sharma and how ruthlessly her husband continued to ignore them. Those shrieking and screeching voices which fail to reverberate outside the four corners of the bedroom.

To get a reality check, a sneak peek into the dingy cells of Kathputli colony, a slum area of Delhi made me closely sense the ignorance and vulnerable state of women in our country.  Barely after giving birth to a year-old stunted girl child, a fragile woman wasn’t even able to move an inch, courtesy the 9-month load that her husband had again unloaded on her. Talking to her about this rushed up second child, she and her mother hesitantly revealed that if she doesn’t comply with her husband’s urge for sex, it would lead to unnecessary quarrels at home which might even end up in a divorce. And as they say, what will our community say if they see me divorced? Who will accept me? So ultimately, she had to concede to his demands.

Digging deep into the gravity of this issue,the last National Family Health Survey (NFHS) explains that most of the rapes occur within the family and just 2.3 per cent of the rape women reported to NFHS was by men other than their husband.  These shameful statistics draws my attention to the fact that how women are just reduced to nothing more than a commodity. A commodity on whom they can vent out their frustration, machoism and the deeply sown patriarchal attitude.  

Trapped in the shackles of ignorance and poverty, we feel as helpless as these women. But when those in power chose to distort the reality, it is the gravest form of injustice they could do to women. It comes as a shock when our Women and Child Development Minister,Maneka Gandhi makes a heedless and absolutely gross remark regarding Marital rape. In the previous Parliament session, replying to a question on whether the government is planning to criminalize Marital Rape, Maneka says “The concept of marital rape, as understood internationally, cannot be suitably applied in the Indian context due to various factors like level of education/illiteracy, poverty”.Orthodoxy has blinded the government and the society to such an extent that they fail to see what is morally right or wrong. When the archaic social norms are given preference over moral values, cacophony is bound to happen. In the name of values, the ministers are trying to blind us too. It is indeed the biggest blot on gender equality.

In 2013, when Justice Verma Committee suggested that marriage is not a valid defence against rape, member of the home affairs committee retorted back saying “if the marital rape is brought under the law, the entire family system will be under great stress and the Committee may perhaps be doing more injustice.” Pondering over this logically devoid justification, aren’t the women suffering due to forced sex and coercion, stressed themselves and in turn a cause of stress for the entire family?  What family system was he claiming to restore, where the women doesn’t even have the rights over her own body? What values is she going to nurture her children with? This is a sure short recipe for perpetuation of oppression against women. The tag of marriage should not implicitly imply consent. Consent is something which should be an inherent right for both the sexes.

Many critics of martial rape also propose that this law is prone to be misused. But doesn’t that apply for all the laws? Using this as a justification, would lead to a conclusion that no law should be framed since they could be used for their own benefit by a particular section of society. Not to forget, that thorough investigation and surveillance mechanism could be a potential problem solver in this case. The cost benefit analysis is available at government’s disposal provided there is a willingness to take up this neglected issue. The willingness can also be directly correlated to the vote bank politics. No party wants to bring up this issue probably because they would lose out on the vote base of the conservative rural and urban class. And you never know, the government might not want to burden our judiciary with more litigation!

The current mood of the government is a clear revelation that this draconian law is not going to be penalised anytime soon. But, when women can enthusiastically demand entry into Shabrimala Temple, then why not form a pressure group and take this movement forward? Partially because many of these are from the rural class who have been born and brought up with the sayings like “Husband is no less than God”. Indian women’s tolerance level is known throughout the world but they need to fathom that it should not be higher than their self-respect. The need of the hour is to inculcate attitudinal and behavioural change in both the men and women. This change will stem only by ingraining in them the notion of equality and the dire need to rise over the prejudiced social norms. Unless awareness via mass media, self-defence training and counselling sessions is not propagated to them, the women will choose to ignore their own sufferings and the men will continue to glorify their coercion.

There seems to be some silver lining coming from UNDP chief Helen Clark’s statement in this context. Clark recently remarked that the only parameter for determining rape should be consent and if India doesn’t criminalize Marital Rape, it would be a violation to U.N.’s Sustainable Development Goals which it has formally adopted. Only time will tell, how firm UNDP is on its stand and moreover what our orthodox government’s response is. If not, then there will be more Lipstick Under my Burqhas, who will come, raise furore for a while and then vanish away. That would be the saddest juncture for humanity!

By Nidhi Nagpal

[etoilesdephan]

Ubi sunt qui ante nos fuerunt? (Chapter 4: Mens Rea)

Chapter masterpost

Read it on ao3!

Chapter words: 2380

Total words: 9470/?????

A/N: I apologise for any inaccuracies in the legal process. I tried my best to do research before writing this <3

“You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.” The words still echoed in his head as he sat in the narrow cell, heavy metal handcuffs binding his arms still.

He was pale, numb. They accused him of an attempted murder. They accused <i>him</i> of trying to stab his best friend, the person that he shared absolutely everything in his life with. Someone without whom Dan was sure he wouldn't be here in the first place anymore.

Phil had originally saved him and now they were accusing him of trying to take this all away from both of them. Even at his most jealous Dan could never imagine harming Phil.

He put his head in his hands, pushing the balls of his palms against his eyes, where the headache had found a permanent residence. This whole situation was fucked up. He couldn't believe it. He'd thought that police was trustworthy, that they would find the real criminal.

Now it was him sitting here, shackled and trapped and Phil's plant won't be watered for another day. He didn't want to let it die. It didn't deserve to go.

Why couldn't just do things right?

Why did he have to mess everything up like this and at a cost of others?!

=====

“Can you tell us where were you the night of the attack?” he felt uncomfortable under the gaze of the two police investigators, sat in the dimly-lit room where they had brought him from the small cell. “I told you, I was out on a walk,” he frowned, feeling his whole face sag a little with the motion. He was tired and he felt how the eyes were watching him carefully. He was physically shackled, and he was mentally tortured.

“Why were you walking at 2 in the morning?” he eyed the small recording device on the table, and he tried his best to remain calm “Phil and I had a disagreement and I wanted to clear my head.” He felt the bitter taste of guilt on his lips when he spoke those words, and his eyes, despite Dan willing differently, looked away from the investigator and down at his own hands in his lap. Though he knew it wasn't his fault, he still felt responsible for what happened.

“We investigated your apartment,” he looked up again at that, the mild surprise washing over his features before he nodded in understanding. He'd watched enough crime drama to be aware that warrants in such cases were probably easy to get.

A photo was pushed towards him, and his chest tightened when he saw the familiar layout of their kitchen. When another photo was set next to the first one, however, his eyes widened a little, and he understood what they were getting at.

“We discovered several of the kitchen knives missing, could you explain it?” he drew in a breath and subconsciously scolded himself when he felt it hitch briefly. “They-- we-- I think we lost one and the other one broke?” he just remembered that the two holsters had been empty for months now, with at times him, and at other times - Phil, mentioning that they really should order some replacement ones.

They never had.

“I see,” the voice was clear; they didn't believe him. His heartbeat made him want to choke, it was worse than the feeling after even the most insane sprint to catch the bus. “So you don't know where they can be found now?”

“Of course not! The dumpster, perhaps, for one?” he tried to vocalise his shock, only ending up sounding more frantic than he wished to.

“I see,” the words sounded like a death sentence.

=====

“Howell, up!” the bored but stern voice of the guard broke the endless questions pouring through his mind and he looked up, the stars dancing in front of his vision before it cleared after several hard blinks.

“Your lawyer,” a word he'd hated for long years, a profession he had abandoned early on and yet, now he was relieved to see the man in the suit. He could see the tired but determined stare through the rimmed glasses that the man wore, and there was a glimmer of hope that sparked in Dan's soul. This man had chosen the profession or was more fit for it than Dan had ever been.

It was, however, when the man spoke, that a shiver ran down his spine “Good day, Mister Howell, I am Godfrey McAlister and I have been hired to defend you in the attempted murder case. Now, if you would follow me,” Dan hadn't even realised that the cell door had been unlocked to let him step out again, and it all felt like he was in one of those criminal investigation shows that he and Phil had enjoyed watching once in awhile. It was very much like the shows, too, the guard by the door of a small room with a low-hanging light and two chairs on either side of the single table.

The handcuffs remained around his wrists, a dark reminder of the reality, more than anything else. He was bound by law, he was accused by it, he was fighting handicapped though he had a better equipped sidekick.

“I have your case here,” a thin folder was set on the table between them and Dan looked at it cautiously, the few pieces of paper that he could see the edges of making him uneasy, but the lawyer went on “All the current evidence is against you, so we will need to find anything that we can to clear your name, or at least reduce the sentence.”

His throat went dry, his head dully ached but he still nodded, mutely.

“The witnesses say that mister Lester--” The official tone made him feel dizzy, sick “Phil,” he corrected the man, and he looked back, when the older man's eyes surveyed him over the rim of his glasses “Phil,” he repeated slowly before opening the folder “Was found in a close proximity of your domicile after what's been described as “Loud and unpleasant, recurring arguments”,” The sound of rustling paper as the main page was set aside, containing the general information about Dan and the suggested crime, felt too loud inside Dan's skull “And your phone location was tracked to about 980 meters from the crime scene about 15 minutes after the accident.”

Dan leaned back in the chair, the hardwood pressing painfully against his back and he stared, unseeingly, at the dark surface of the table.

He'd been nearby.

He had been just a bit over a block away from Phil when he'd been attacked, and he hadn't realised it.

The thought that he might've passed the attacker was overwhelming and he tried to recall the faces of those he'd seen that night. Conjured up the image of blood-soaked hands and expression of no remorse.

Nothing had been stolen. It couldn't have been random.

It couldn't. And that, Dan realised, was what made his situation so much worse.

“Neither of the areas seem to have video surveillance, so unless you know someone who could support your alibi, the chances are that you will be sentenced until further notice.”

“There must be something,” Dan finally managed out, eyes still downcast, brows furrowed and he tried to think of the ways to help himself but all of his thoughts were with Phil. What if he woke up while Dan was here? What if instead of waking he would….

He drew in a shaky breath, earning another surveying glance from the lawyer and Dan looked up, dark brown eyes pleading, knuckles turning white with the intensity of his curled digits against his palm, voice tinted with desperation “I would never hurt him. Yes, we fought but I could never...” Though always so articulate, words failed him now “God, Phil is my whole world, without him--”

“Without him you would inherit 50% of his savings and majority of his belongings,” papers were shifted again and Dan looked at the man, appalled by what he was hearing “Additionally due to your circumstances, you would receive an impressive sum from his insurance.” A page was pushed towards him, but he didn't look down at it, just placed his open palms against the hardwood surface of the table, leaning forward a little “Do you really think I was ever with him for the money?” His voice, unexpectedly stable, was still harsh and he breathed in heavily “Do you really think that I rushed to the hospital when I got the news only to collect a bloody check for whatever he would leave me?” his voice shook, the anger finally winning over the shock and worry “Do I look like that kind of a person to you?!”

He hadn't realised when he'd stood up until he saw the other man rise from his seat as well “Please, sit down, mister Howell, I am here to defend, not to accuse you. We must look at all the facts so we can determine the outcome and ensure that you are released as soon as it's possible.”

He slumped back down, the chain between his wrists jingling in a similar annoyance as that he felt.

“Let's continue then,” He nodded sharply at that.

“Currently you are up for, according to section 1 of the Criminal Attempts Act 1981, a life sentence,” He felt all the colour drain from his face, eyes wide, his heart nearly stopping.

“However, the lack of solid evidence and the the proof of <i>mens rea</i> would mean that they may only sentence you for 10 years for one count of attempted homicide until the victim can give their witness statement or you are otherwise proven innocent.” Or guilty. The words didn't even need to be said out loud.

Ten years. He was facing ten bloody years of jail time for a crime he didn't commit. Ten years of losing absolutely everything in his life.

“I don't even have a degree,” he laughed, weakly, no humor in the sound “In ten years I will be nothing in the society, they might as well lock me up for good.” A hot tear rolled down his cheek but he didn't bother to wipe it away, his mind wandering off, not really hearing anything else of what the lawyer was saying.

In one fight he had lost everything that mattered, or so he had thought at first. Now, though, for sure, his whole life had been thrown under the wheels of a bus.

He always knew that he could count on Phil. He really did. But it was the darkness of his mind that sucked up that hope. He couldn't be there for Phil now, he hadn't been there for the past months, not in the way that they used to be. If he couldn't be there, how could he expect Phil to save him, like he had always done ever since they had met?

And what if he never woke up?

The thought killed Dan, and he rolled around, wide awake, on the small cell bunk that night, unable to sleep. His heartbeat was in his head, blocking every surrounding sound, and filling the dark corners of his cell with demons. He hated the darkness, he always had. He missed the fairy lights on his headboard, he missed the lines of the streetlights breaking through the blinds and into his room, or on the occasion into Phil's. He missed that feeling of bright light that was always there when he woke up wrapped up in the other man, the two of them too warm from all the body heat and blankets.

The day of the trial was the worst. He hadn't slept much, dark circles making his brown eyes seem sank deep within his skull and his cheeks hollow-looking from the lack of nutrition, as, though he had been fed, his stomach rejected most of the meals soon after.

His parents, brother, had visited. So had the Lesters. Everyone was shocked at first, but Dan thought that he saw the doubt begin to press into their minds. Even then, the words had been supportive ones, though the visits had thinned across the days, and he noted the absence of first, his brother, then his father, the slight discomfort of Phil's relatives who knew him less, sent to be checked up on by Phil's immediate family when they couldn't make it.

He didn't blame them, though, he was a strange guy that had suddenly come into Phil's life, accepted as a family, yet barely anyone knew him. Now Phil was in a coma and he understood when their suspicious glances and questions began to show, and it dug into his soul.

He had clean clothes, his mother forcing him to comb his hair a bit, too, now a complete curly mess that he'd usually be annoyed by when out in the public. He had people who were to vouch for him. He had a lawyer that had assured him many times that his sentence would be small, though it was impossible to promise none.

His case made him numb, though originally angry. It was soon that he understood by the size of the courtroom that this was nothing like the movies. The courtroom was a small one, not one of the fancy ones that he had heard and seen so much of. His, <i>their</i>, case wasn't that big and there were only a handful of people who were there, who truly cared and knew, or tried to understand.

The gavel echoed within his skull. He spoke when spoken to. He listened when required to. He stood and sat down like a trained dog.

A full day of proof, witness statements, facts and their questioning turned into a giant blur in his head. Dan had to try his best to not let his knees give in.

“Daniel James Howell, I hereby sentence you to eight years in prison. This sentence may be reviewed upon the request of the victim themselves or victim's family upon Mr. Lester's awakening.”

[earthstory]

A First Hand Experience of the Kaikoura Earthquake Sequence

At 12:02am on Monday 14th November 2016 a 7.8 Magnitude quake struck near the small town of Waiau, South Island, New Zealand. This is what it felt like.

It’s 12:01am on Monday morning and I’m curled up in bed with my girlfriend trying to catch some sleep before our flight out of Wellington in the morning. Our host's flat is 10 floors up, giving excellent views of the central business district in which it's situated. Hailing originally from the UK, I have spent the last year living in Christchurch and thought that a weekend trip to New Zealand’s capital might be a nice break from several weeks’ worth of panicked work.

What had been a relaxing and enjoyable weekend was about to change very quickly. At 12:02 I’m woken up by a weak shaking, as if the bed and entire apartment has started to vibrate gently. In Christchurch, it's common for houses to shake like this when large trucks or busses drive past, however being 10 floors up this shaking can only mean one thing: Earthquake.

I sit up in bed and wait. The shaking will either gently subside and I can go back to sleep or it will suddenly intensify. I look around the room noting that nothing hangs from the ceiling but that the only source of cover is a small desk. It's barely big enough to shield one of us and its proximity to the floor to ceiling glass windows make me think twice. Being caught in a big quake is bad enough – staring down 10 floors while desperately holding on seemed worse.

After the first few seconds the shaking intensifies, the gentle vibrations being replaced with sudden shunting motions. I leap out of bed – simultaneously grabbing my partner and my clothes. Running out of the building isn’t an option – horror stories of Christchurch residents having stairwells bend and twist underneath them and of people opening doorways only to find staircases entirely missing means leaving the building isn't an option. Not until it stops shaking.

As the violence of the shaking continues items begin to fall off the wall – first a book swiftly followed by a mirror. Having discarded the desk as an unfeasible option we both head for the door frame. As I go to turn the door handle I hear the wine bottles in the hall way starting to smash, with some hitting the door to our room. If I don’t open the door, then I can’t stand in the doorway and can’t utilise the stability it provides. However, if I do open it I risk being hit by glass and other debris which is now loose in the hallway.

I decide to remain poised – if the glass bottles stop but the shaking continues then I open the door but up until then I remain trapped in the room. At this point the shaking is at its most violent, we can hear the building groan as it sways and I desperately struggle to remain upright. Realising that I am completely hopeless – that nothing I can do can influence my chance of survival and that my entire existence rests on the integrity of a building I know nothing about – I grab my partner and we hold each other as we wait for the shaking to stop.

After what feels like a decade (somewhere in the region of 1 to 2 minutes) the building comes to a rest. I hurriedly dress myself and then slowly ease open the door into the corridor. Before I survey the damage I call out to our host to make sure he is ok. He appears in the hallway looking confused, his previously immaculate flat now running red with ruined wine. I turn back into the room, conscious of the fact that we have mere seconds until the aftershocks begin but also aware that this may be the last time we are allowed into this building over the coming days. I tell my partner to grab all our belongings and we desperately begin to fumble in the dark, the earthquake having blown the fuses for the apartment.

We then race downstairs, saying silent prayers that we can make it down the ten flights before the next earthquake rolls in. Once outside our attempts to understand what has just happened begin. My first port of call is an app called ‘GeoNet Quake’ which provides information on where the earthquake occurred and how strong it was. I look at the screen in horror – a 7.2 centred in Culverden, in the South Island. This area is far closer to my hometown of Christchurch than it is to Wellington and I furiously begin contacting my friends to see how they are. Christchurch is still recovering from the 2010/2011 sequence that took 185 lives and decimated what was once the country’s second largest city (see here for more information: http://bit.ly/2jC3iYm). Even if people were ok physically, the shaking was sure to have brought back memories that have haunted residents for the past 5 years.

Partially thanks to a Facebook check in post, I begin to realise that everyone I care about is ok. As we sit outside feeling the aftershocks rumbling through, I suddenly realise I have no idea what to do now. Desperate Google searches bring up nothing and having never lived in Wellington I am oblivious to any emergency procedures that may be in place. Alarms are going of across the city and emergency vehicles streak past, filling the night with an array of haunting sirens. Other people begin to gather outside, each looking as bewildered as the next. People see our rucksacks and check we are ok and that we have somewhere to stay before walking aimlessly on into the night.

As a potential violent aftershock rumbles through I check Geonet. Panic begins to rise as I notice some of the aftershocks are beginning to arrive from the North Island not the South. Wellington is sat right on top of a fault that has the potential to bring the capital to its knees. It’s not unknown for one earthquake to trigger others on nearby faults and I catch myself before I go into full blown panic. I cross my fingers and continue to scroll through the list of aftershocks.

As I scroll one earthquake captures my eye. Registering a high 5 or low 6 it appears to have been centred in the seaside town of Kaikoura. Once again my stomach drops. Kaikoura is a tourist hotspot famous for the abundance of seals, dolphins and whales that visits its shores. The reason for its abundance of sea life? A huge offshore canyon where nutrients rise and provide a bountiful feast for its watery inhabitants. It’s also a canyon that has the potential to suffer submarine slides during strong earthquakes. This in turn can trigger tsunamis.

It’s now about 1 or 2 hours post-quake, and once again I desperately try to access information on what is going on. In my panicked searching, I find a tweet from a government site stating that a Tsunami warning has been put out for the entire east coast of New Zealand. Back in Christchurch I live in one of the seaside suburbs, one of the suburbs that is now at risk from the quake induced waves. I copy the tweet and forward it on to my housemates – both seeming surprised having yet to receive any information from the New Zealand Defence Force website. Despite the tsunami warning sirens remaining silent, and several websites still oblivious to the threat, they make their way up into the hills to spend a restless night in their car wondering if our house would stand up to the waves headed towards shore.

Feeling more useless than ever I continue to hunt for updates – trying to piece together what has happened. I knock on the window of a nearby car that has a family huddled inside intently listening to the radio. They kindly fill me in on the news but its once again nothing of real substance. I consider our options; no-one has come around to check our building and the aftershocks are still consistently hitting with such force that I have no wish to return to our 10th storey apartment. However, with the tsunami warning out a decision must be made: to head towards the hills encircling the city or to return to the apartment.

Not knowing the damage to the hills or the infrastructure leading there I decide to return to the apartment. We sprint up the 10 flights of stairs and huddle in the only part of the flat not showered in glass or unknown fluids. I set my phone to the local radio station and for the next few hours we sit, huddled under a blanket wincing with each aftershock – waiting to see if this will be another big one and send us running for cover.

After 3 or 4 hours our host returns and we attempt to clean up the apartment. Once that is complete we decide to try and get some sleep. My partner swiftly falls asleep while I lay awake paralysed with fear that the next earthquake will set off the fault slumbering beneath us.

Thankfully damage to infrastructure in Wellington was minor and we were able to fly back to Christchurch the next day. The relief of being in the air and therefore being unable to feel any aftershocks was huge even if short lived. Back in Christchurch we could still feel the aftershocks rocking through and for 24 hours had the car boot packed in case another tsunami warning was released and we had to head to the hills.

While the experience was pretty scary it hasn't left me with any residual anxiety. I do have a greater appreciation of the fact that the earth can move suddenly and without warning (even though I'm a geologist) and that preparation is key to making it through.

Watson

For more information on the Kaikoura Earthquake check out our other posts: https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2EhM2SU https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2F7Gy_k https://tmblr.co/Zyv2Js2H0eWxk Image Credit: Kate Pedley (http://bit.ly/2jSDc3E) and Tamsin Laird For more awe-inspiring images of post quake features the UC Science (http://bit.ly/2j6XMOI) facebook page

[raveace]

Beata Hock: What was Aided, Rejected, Tolerated

Bea Hock

What was Aided, Rejected, Tolerated in Hungary in the 1970s and 1980s Lecture held at the "ACTINART – SYMPOSIUM AND WORKSHOP" in the Slovak National Gallery, Bratislava, 2001

As for Hungarian 'action-related' art forms, events and artists, I will try to present a regular chronological survey which will be intersected here and there with certain thematic considerations. The chronological line will take us from the first happenings of the late 60s, through the increasing number of actions of the early 70s, to the various forms of performances of the 80s. My intersections will touch upon the question 'why action art?', the changing quality of the events partly arising from the multimedial nature of the art form itself, the different categories of performers or performer groups, as well as some features that are characteristic of the country and/or the region. The Dinner. In memoriam Batu Khan, the very first happening in Hungary was carried out by Tamás Szentjóby and Gábor Altorjay (with the participation of Miklós Jankovics) in 1965. It took place in an (allegedly) tartar-period cellar (hence the second part of the title)[1] and, as Szentjóby later related[2], the event was largely prompted by the site itself and the objects found there. Although the performers had a script to follow (they knew, for example, that they were going to eat – which then served as a good enough reason to name the event 'The Dinner'), they forgot about it as soon as the happening started; yet, according to Szentjóby, events folded out relatively the same way as they had been predesigned – thanks to the prompting environment and objects. Szentjóby termed the structure of this event as an 'activity montage'. (Some of) the 'activities' that were 'montaged' are as follows: on the path to the cellar, one performer, buried up to the waist, is typing on a sheet of newspaper with a burning baby carriage behind him; inside the cellar, pitch-dark and ear-splitting music for some10 minutes then a bouquet of roses goes up in flames; the performers eat and later womit, now and then pre-set alarm clocks go off; the performers smash the tableware and the furniture; they cover the third participant with all kinds of dirty substances (the audience also gets some of that); maneuvers with a chicken and two mice; assemblage of a sculpture (entitled later by a spectator 'The Scooter that Does Not Roll Anywhere'); two performers are working hard on tying up the smudged third participant with different objects in the cellar and with the members of the audience, when Szentjóby eventually crushes the lightbulb. After some hesitation in the dark, one spectator demolishes the barricade that was built in front of the exit in the meantime, and the audience leaves the cellar and sets to clean their clothes... This 'structure' and the authorial attitude which favours chance elements share an apparent likeness to Fluxus, and characterized most of the happenings that followed this first one[3]. Some of Szentjóby's other happenings evolved around his quasi-manifesto 'Art is everything which is forbidden. Be forbidden'. The one that addresses this slogan most directly is entitled 'Be forbidden', too[4]. In an exhibition place, on a small piece of paper attached to the wall, these two words could be read; but only if the beholder climbed over the cordon placed in front of the wall – in other to be able to make out the small letters. In fact, (s)he has committed but a minor and inevitable indecency but, by doing so, (s)he got in contact with that which is, by definition, forbidden. The logic of this minimal instructional action also suggests that one's core existence is denied by those who set the rules if willing to perform independent, authentic acts. In another work, Szentjóby had already 'pre-visited' this you-are-guilty-no-matter-what situation. In Autotherapy to Prevent Punishment he installed himself in the humiliating position of being seated for hours with a bucket covering his face and head. He also subjected himself to the questioning of the visitors. (The artist himself had also prepared some rather cunning questions to be used by the visitors.) Szentjóby carried out these acions at the by now legendary Balatonboglár Chapel Studio. During the summers from 1970 to its forced closing down in 1973, the Balatonboglár Chapel which was rented from the Catholic church and run by Gyorgy Galántai, an artist and occasional performer himself, served as the seasonal venue for all important(-to-be) figures of the Hungarian 'alternative'[5] art scene. There was an unmistakable political tinge in Szentjóby's work and the same is true for the work of several artists who participated at the 'exhibitions' which were not merely housing fine art shows. The artistic trends of the time were certainly on display in as many as 37 exhibitions, but it was the Chapel Studio where a number of artists first turned to 'action' as a form of artistic expression. For the current artistic trends – geometric abstraction, hard edge, minimalism and serial order works – could be decoded as a defence strategy against being interpreted in political terms or having to fulfill ideological requirements. To use Galántai's expression, working in these trends offered, instead of freedom of speech, the freedom of silence. Or, to put it differently, it was someone's private business, without any intention to inform or to communicate. Yet, by attending the Balatonboglár Chapel Studio these artist entered, from their involuntary social isolation, an environment that encouraged expression and communication. In this environment, it became clear that the social surroundings that enforced silence did not erase what had to be said. For the great majority of the non-spatial works presented at the Chapel Studio informed about the conditions which the visual artists kept silent about[6]. Now, Fluxus and Concept Art cannot be safely brought together under the umbrella term of 'action art', but due to their transgression both of conventional art forms and the directives of the infamous 'socialist realism' they deserve to be mentioned here. The conceptual or Body Art actions and Fluxevents of (visual) artists Gábor Attalai, Dóra Maurer, Endre Tót or Gyula Pauer, most often executed in the absence of an audience, carried on the practice of action-based artistic activity initiated in Balatonboglar. Endre Tót in his 'Joys' series (1971-78) responded to the isolation and supression detectable on all levels of life with the absurd euphoria of his 'I am glad if...' sentences. "I am glad if I can walk up and down" – but this performed in a closed up area. Attalai once, when given the award 'For the Socialist Culture', felt the need to discover what kind of a connection he really had to this detested 'socialist culture'. Alluding to the armband as the usual spot for wearing power symbols and employing the negative as a way of expression, he wore the badge, for a day, pressed onto the skin of his upper arm, tightly tied over with a bandage. After one day the award was brought to a negative life on his skin (Culture Alive, 1972). Although it may jumble up my nice chronological outline, I must reveal that the very first 'action' preceded the very first happening. However, it was only subsequently declared to be an art action by Miklós Erdély, one of the originators of the event, and entitled Unwatched Money out on the Street. During the days of the anti-communist revolution in October 1956, open trunks were placed – and left unattended – on the street at six different spots of Budapest with a sign that read 'The justness of our revolution allows to raise money for our martyrs' families in such a way'. Money was quickly piling up in the trunks and not a single bill was taken out of them. The suitcases were collected a few hours later and the money was duly distributed among those in need. It was the exceptional moment of utmost honesty that made Erdély, who never limited art to aesthetic categories, to declare this 'fund-raising' to be art. Instead of aesthetics, he applied 'new' as the main category to identify good art in the sense that, for him, the agenda of artistic activity was not to inform about what had already been established, but to evoke new ideas. A good artwork, he claimed, has a certain quality that confounds or deconstructs our pre-existent notions. His own art showed a scientific-philosophic-metaphysical-lyrical character which was often reflected in his actions and happenings (Three Quarks for King Marke, 1968; Anaxagoras: The Snow is Black, 1971). He happily abandoned working on his own whenever the production of the 'new' was better achieved through a collective endeavour.[7] From 1975 on, he worked with three different workshops, Exercises in Creativity, Fafej, and InDiGo.[8] Fafej was rather a verbal, 'meditative' environment for collective reflection; Exercises in Creativity and InDiGo were more action-, production and art-oriented. But in their case, even the 'production' meant the execution of tasks that rendered traditional art practices unapplicable and, at the same time, challenged customary patterns of thought, perception and creation. When drawing a model, they exchanged their works in every ten minutes with somebody else to continue; or, at another time, they practiced 'chain-drawing' which meant leading the right-side neighbour's hand to draw and letting the left-side neighbour lead one's own hand to draw. One of their collective work, a painting, was realized in the way that they divided the canvas among themselves by a whistle competition: each member was given a section in proportion to how long (s)he could whistle. Many of the new generation artists who attended these workshops did turn to performance after the workshops had been dissolved and they went on with their individual carreer (János Szirtes, László Révész, András Böröcz, János Sugár). Another trysting place for 'alternative' artists was the Studio Vajda Lajos (VLS) in Szentendre, a picturesque small town in close proximity to the Hungarian capital, famous for its active artist community. Many of the members of VLS were self-educated artists who had never been rooted in the conventional representational concept of art. Their either completely spontaneous or roughly pre-designed actions and happenings had a strong dada or surrealist character and, consequently, were full of absurd humour. The word 'performance' was first consciously applied to Tibor Hajas' work 'Dark Flash' presented at the "I am" Festival in Warsaw, in 1978. Hajas is generally considered to be the most important figure of Hungarian performance art. His performances incorporated the risk elements and the heroic or self-destructive features inherent in Body Art which reflect the second meaning[9] of the word 'performance'. He envolved himself in extreme situations; in Dark Flash he was hanging from the ceiling blindfolded, with his wrists tied together. He was trying to use the flash of the camera in his hands simultaneously with another camera with a self-timer placed in the room on a tripod. It reflected his resolution and his lack of experience that he did not reckon with the consequences: in a couple of minutes, he became unconscious, he had no pulse, and people untied him with great difficulty. The practice of performance was for him the appropriate form to express the helplessness of the individual, and it was also a way of meditation laden with continual self-reproach[10]. Half naked and blindfolded again, wired down to a chair, he was attempting to answer the questions asked by the audience while having an ultraviolet quartz lamp placed 20 centimeters away form his face. After almost an hour, some members of the audience realized that his skin started to peel off, and finally released him (Questioning, 1980). Béla Kelényi, Csilla Kelecsényi, István Kovács and the early appearances of the Inconnu Group represented the same, often ritual-like, performance that leaves the audience with a blood stirring experience. Similarly to the international trend of the late 70s, these grave and often provoking performances were replaced, from the 80s on, by less harsh and more entertaining revue-like ones. Some of this new variety dismissed the excessive political contents or physical exposedness and shifted the ritual towards introducing self-mythologies. These performances, or sometimes series of performances typically consisted of a set of recurring motifs, and no longer insisted on single presentation once crucial for happening. The duo of András Böröcz and László Révész represented this 'buffo'[11] or Dada kind of performance that always had a melancholic, but never tragic ending. In the course of their shows they employed a large number of visual elements (slides, films or videos, pre-made paintings, sculptures or other weird objects). The plot of the events was carefully designed and allowed for little improvization. The thematic links within the narrative were based on association which, after all, resulted in a relatively coherent staged collage. And they did pile up everything that could be associated in any: mythological, literary, anecdotal, musical, painterly, historical, scientific, etc. way with their chosen subject announced in the title of the show (The Horse; Sphere; 1980, Matches, 1982). But due to the frequently contradictory quality of these associative links, the resulting collage did not, after all, generate any (new) sense. Repeatedly extinguishing the meanings one might have managed to find, this narrative, in fact, generated 'the' nothing – which is not the same as having talked about nothing at all... (one can justly notice a slight oriental touch here). Several female artists entered performance art on the side of private mythologies where they attempted to create a 'second world' with different rules. El Kazovszkij built up her Dzsan Waxwork Galleries of painted cardboard animals (her art's ubiquitous motif standing for the artist's spirit), live models wrapped in queer materials, and other creatures personifying the artists' experiences. The visitors were participants inasmuch as they became, for the time of their visit, part of the 'waxwork gallery'. Erzsébet Lantos, originally from Northern Hungary, realized her Aphasia Theatre in Subotica, Yugoslavia. In their performances they combined the magical-ritual elements with the above-mentioned blood stirring atmosphere. Orsolya Drozdik was the first to consciously address the issue of being a woman (artist) in her Individual mythology series (1978) with the inclusion of her own body and with a conceptual investigation into her own relation to the models of feminity. János Szirtes first appeared in 'grave' performances often exposing himself to hazardous situations, while confronting the audience with upsetting scenes. In his 1983 Plant he was buried in a barrel. While another participant read out a text and two German shepherds guarded the scene, Szirtes' amplified breathing from underneath the soil sounded through loudspeakers. The ever intensifying, shriek-like noise mixed with the dogs' howling. Before he eventually arose from the barrel with numb limbs and a freaky expression on his face, one girl from the audience could not take the tension anymore and ran to the barrel to free him. When he was finally out, he trodded the soil for some ten minutes, then cleaned himself and embraced a girl who came onstage from among the audience (this time, planned). Darkness fell on the kissing couple and the dogs howled[12]. Later he made revue-like performances incorporating elements of his own and his partner, László fe Lugossy's private mythologies which were performed by their performance group New Modern Acrobatics. The emergence of revue-like performances could also be, perhaps, explained with the multimedial nature of the performance as a genre. Its basic visuality springs from its origins in the fine arts. This origin and the strong conceptual stimulus differentiates performance from the avantgarde endeavours of the so-called performing arts, however, they've got many things in common. Some companies – such as Peter Halasz's Studio Kassák Ház (1970-75), László Najmányi's Studio Kovács István[13] (1972-74) and the company Brobo (1971-75) worked on the borderlines of experimental theatre and happening, performance or Body Art. 'Kassák Ház' refers to the leisure centre where the company first played before they were made to withdraw to one of the member's downtown apartment and to introduce the 'genre' of 'room-theatre' there. They made their important appearance at the Balatonboglár Chapel as well with a three-day happening entitled King-Kong, featuring a huge puppet of an ape with Halasz's protruding body for its phallus, a man-turned-into-a-woman trying to seduce the ape, a 'dwarf' fighting with the ape, and the audience as mobile participants of these scenes inside and around the chapel. When they were made to leave the country as well, almost the whole group settled in New York and became famous under the name Squat Theatre. During the 70s, parallel with the arts, literature also developed distinct conceptual trends such as concrete poetry and acoustic/sound poetry; the latter represented by the actions and performances of Endre Szkárosi, Katalin Ladik, and the members of the Paris-based Hungarian Atelier. One of Szkarosi's ongoing project was to revisit the 'sacred' heritage of old Hungarian literature and, via a creative – not merely interpretative – way of presentation, to bring to new life these well-known titles whose actual contents went completely unnoticed by now. If felt adequate, he re-interpreted and performed the most honoured piece of our 19th century revolution as a punk song. Turning that poem into a punk song does seem to have been adequate all the more so because the officially rejected trends of contemporary pop-music: rock, beat and punk, brought the fresh air of liberty to the stuffy politico-cultural atmosphere of the country, and informed about radically different ways of existence. Groups such as SPIONS (Gergely Molnár with Najmányi from Kovács István Studio), A.E. Bizottság (with András Wahorn, László fe Lugossy, István ef Zámbó from VLS), Konnektor Rt. (with Szkárosi from Brobo), New Modern Acrobatics (with Szirtes from InDiGo and fe Lugossy)[14], etc. were formed with the participations of artists, writers and educated or amateur musicians, and they staged – as Szkárosi, the lead in Konnekor Rt., termed it – 'total concert theatre performances'. It was also him who considered the incorporation of pop-music as a cultural experiment to eliminate the institutionally created and artificially deepened gap between pop culture and the culture of the intellectual Élite. His former group (Fölöspéldány/Surplus Items) of poets and artists gave 'concerted poetry readings' with the then most progressive and most radical punk band, Beatrice. By doing so, they created an access for the intellectual vanguard (which was otherwise relatively successfully controlled by the political power), to the nonconformist punk culture, while providing them with the band's crowd as an audience. Politics was more openly present in the activity of the Inconnu Group who announced 'social actionism' and 'political art', refusing any kind of division between art and life. Their 'actionism', which at the beginnig resembled a lot the Vienna Group – performances with blood, bandages, naked bodies, and slaughtered animals –, gradually grew into a more socially based activity of running an appartment gallery which was housing lectures and other events as well as publishing a regular newsletter, and finally focusing exclusively on politics. Another group that systematically ignored the traditional division between life and art was the Hejettes Szomlyazók[15] attributing a deliberately anti-intellectual attitude and declaring their most ordinary everyday avtivities to be art (Beach: Heat-Enjoying Action, 1989). The places and occasions where all these events took place play an important roll in depicting the art scene of the era. Exhibition openings offered excellent opportunities and this was because while what was exhibited had to undergo prior censorship, whatever happened at the vernissage could avoid being censored. Gabor Tóth almost exclusively appeared with his performances at openings, just like the group Xertox preferred to open their self-curated mail art exhibitions with their own 'industrious meditations'. This was a 'group-specific' sort of performance whose name might first astonish as a contradiction, but in fact it copied, in a peculiar way, the workings of mail art itself. The three members wore gowns and cowls with small openings only for the eyes – which uniform both united them as a group working on the same assignment: the realization of the same castless, roughly outlined script; but also separated them as individuals absorbed in their own particular way of realization with no insight into the accomplishment of the others. A concentrated meditative state aspiring to contribute to a rather physical and practical activity of, for example, making a photographic frieze or building a hut inside the gallery. Taking advantage of the occasions offered by exhibition openings also reflected, as most performance artists emphasize when talking about the era, the strong need to get together – and to ameliorate the dullnes of reality. Festivals or events alike throughout the region – in Balatonboglár, Vác and Szentendre in Hungary, in Nove Zamky in Slovakia, near St. Ann's Lake in Romania, etc. – also contributed to the establishing of a 'parallel culture', a kind of publicity different to what was officially propagated. At occasions like these, painters, sculptors, poets who did not normally engage in performance art took the opportunity and came up with non-spatial or non-verbal works. While in Western Europe and in the USA, the protest against professionalism and market-oriented operations penetrating the arts seem to have generally prevented an artist from simultaneously practising action art and fine art[16], in East-Central Europe a peaceful coexistence was granted for there was no 'trouble-making' art market at all; and because much the same audience attended the performances and the exhibitions of the 'tolerated' or 'rejected' sort of artists anyway. This situation could perhaps be marked as one single favourable deficiency of the past era – from the actions' point of view at least...

___________________________

[1]

Batu Khan was one of the leaders of the Tartar army that was in continuous battles with Hungary during the XIIIth century.

[2]

Beszélgetés Szentjóby Tamással, in:

Szógettó

, Jelenlét 1989/1-2.

[3]

The Sunday Before Christmas (Pre-Antimotif Happening)

, 1969, with G. Altorjay, K. Sóvári, M. Erdély;

An Evening of Actions

, 1967, with T. Szentjóby, G. Altorjay, Sándor Altorjai and Miklós Erdély

Guests at Easter

, 1967, with G. Altorjay, M. Erdély and Bill McCagg

ORGY

– the 1967 plan was realized in 1998(!) by T. Szentjóby

[4]

This slogan also refers to the ill-famed guide-line of the 'three T-s' of the official cultural policy of the 70s that divided all sorts of cultural phenomena into 3 possible categories:

T

iltott (forbidden/

rejected

),

T

űrt (acceptable/tolerated),

T

ámogatott (supported/aided).

[5]

I am using the word 'alternative' for that which was then also termed as 'avantgarde' or 'underground'. Knowing that these terms did not have the same inherent oppositional meaning outside the Eastern block, I decided to use 'alternative' which, I hope, suggest more strongly this quality of other than what was institutionally supported.

[6]

Hock Bea: Balatonboglár – művek és legendák, in: Kritika, 2000/11.

[7]

Bacsó Zsuzsa Éva: Erdély Miklós és az InDiGo, in: A modern posztjai. ELTE, 1994.

[8]

'FAFEJ' literally means a 'thick-head' and is also the acronym of the workshop's full name: '

Fa

ntázia

fej

lesztő gyakorlatok' (Exercises in Fantasy Development). The name 'INDIGO' decodes the same way: 'indigó' in itself means 'carbon paper' (one of Erdely's and the group's favourite material to work with), and '

In

ter

di

szciplináris

Go

ndolkodás' means 'Interdisciplinary Thinking'.

[9]

'the action or process of carrying out or accomplishing an action, task, or function' (The New Oxford Dictionary of English. Oxford, 1998)

[10]

Beke László: The Hungarian Performance Before and After Tibor Hajas. in: Festival de performance Zona Europa de Est, Timisoara , 1993.

[11]

Révész' own expression

[12]

description from Annamária Szőke: Szirtes János műsorairól, in: Jóvilág, Bölcsészindex, 1984.

[13]

'Kovács István' is probably the most common name for a man to be heard in Hungary.

[14]

'A.E. Bizottság' stands for Albert Einstein Committee; Rt. means Ltd.

[15]

The name approximately means 'substitute thirsters' – if that means anything at all; and, to top it off, it is spelled in a distorted way even in the original

[16]

not metioning now other considerations why they might have given up fine arts