#although I admittedly cropped out the blood

[karlkapri]

― Regarding the Pain of Others, Susan Sontag.  

[leossmoonn]

Hi Sara !! Can I request a Jess Mariano x reader where the reader is desperate to catch Jess' attention, which makes her start flirting with guys in front of him? And maybe wearing shorter skirts, more revealing shirts, etc. Smut please!

yes YES omg 😁

masterlist

pairing - jess mariano x fem!reader

type - smut, angst

warnings / includes - mild language, food mentions, rory slander (oops), teasing, smut - unprotected, penetrative sex (pls use protection irl) fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, name calling [whore, baby, princess , etc etc]. italics are your thoughts. dean and rory never dated in this. dont mind me writing in lower case i was lazy. 16+ fic

————

that bitch.

i stared at rory intensely as she flirted with jess. she was always touching his arm, throwing her head back as she laughed at his jokes with a little too much enthusiasm. she stared at him with her clear-blue eyes; those stunning eyes that made me jealous because whenever i saw him look at her. it was obvious he liked her.

although he promised me many times that he didn’t, i just didn’t believe him. i mean, look at her. admittedly, i look hotter, but she was the type of pretty that could trap guys forever.

i looked back at my book, sipping my iced coffee. i tried to focus on the words, but my eyes kept re-reading the same sentence as i couldn’t help but hear rory and jess’s conversation.

“jess! you’re gonna get in trouble!” her giggle made my blood boil.

“chill, ror. luke won’t know,” jess replied back.

“ror”; that stupid nickname he’s had for her since day one. it made my body twitch.

“what about y/n?” rory then asked.

my head couldn’t help but perk up at the sound of my name, especially with her voice wrapped around it.

i turned my head, my eyes scanning over the two. jess was leaning forward in his chair, his face just inches away from hers. her hand was on his forearm that was bare from his sleeves being rolled up. the way her fingers curled around his arm made my heart sink to my stomach. was he really that oblivious?

“i don’t think she’ll care. and if she does, then that’s her problem,” he said.

i bit my bottom lip in confusion and anger. tears welled up in my eyes and i had to force myself to look away. i wiped the tears away roughly, taking a big gulp of my coffee before shutting my book.

i got up and went to the bathroom, avoiding any and all eye contact with jess and rory. as soon as i got to the bathroom, i adjusted my outfit. i was wearing a blue and yellow plaid skirt, a ribbed crop-top, with white sneakers.

i started with pulling my shirt down. it was a v-neck, so it was easier for my boobs to show. i pushed them out against my bra so they sat pretty. i pulled my skirt up, turning around and smiling as i saw that my underwear could almost be seen. i took out my lipgloss from my purse, smacking it onto my lips to make them glisten. i fixed up my eyeliner, stepping back to view myself.

i looked like a hooker, but i hoped it would get jess’s attention away from rory for a few seconds. it’s not like we were exclusively dating, but there was definitely something there and i wasn’t going to lose him to ms. stars hallow.

i walked out of the bathroom, swinging my hips as i put my purse back on my shoulder. i shot a quick look to jess, whose eyes were wide and jaw dropped to the floor. rory looked me up and down, a surprised and disgusted look on her face. i shot her a petty smile, challenging her with my brows before i looked away.

i went back to my table, grabbing my iced coffee to-go and my book. i strutted out of the cafe, going over to dean’s house. i walked the couple of blocks, making sure my shirt was low enough before i knocked on the door.

it swung open immediately, revealing a surprised, but pleased dean.

“hey y/n, what’re you doin’ here?” he asked.

“just wanted to see how my favorite star hallows high schooler is doing?” i grinned.

“well, i’m doing okay, thank you. how are you?” he asked.

“oh, i’m good.” i put my hands behind my back, arching it so my tits were practically in his face.

his eyes wandered down slowly, his jaw dropping at the same speed. his eyes went back up to my face where he was met with my teasingly biting my lip with a smile.

“you look uh, great, by the way.”

“thank you, i try. anyways, i was wondering if you wanted to hang out? we can watch a movie, walk around town, get something to eat? i’ve only had coffee today,” i suggested.

“yeah, yeah, sure. let me get my wallet,” he nodded. “you can come in. i’ll be back.”

i stepped into his house, standing in the entry way.

“you don’t have to pay, you know. i’m a big girl,” i said to him as he walked back.

“i know, but what kind of man would i be if i didn’t pay for the beautiful woman standing in front of me,” he grinned.

i looked down shyly, my lips forming into a coy smile.

“oh, dean, you’re too kind.”

“it’s the truth. anyways, shall we go? we can walk or i can drive,” he suggested.

“mmm,” i hummed, “why don’t we drive? it’s really hot outside.”

“i second that,” he chuckled. he shut his door, locking it before walking down the steps to his car.

i followed him and climbed into the passenger seat of his truck.

“where to?” he asked once he started to car.

“let’s go to the diner,” i said.

“copy that,” he nodded, shifting the gears into drive.

“so, how’s your sister doing?” i asked. “clara is good. how are your parents doing?” he asked.

“ol’ mom and pops are good,” i answered.

“good to hear,” he shot me a smile. i returned it. “how about your mom?”

“eh,” he shrugged, “still working late and stuff.”

“well, it’s glad clara has her big brother to take care and look out for her.” i put my hand on his leg, squeezing it.

he looked at me, smiling widely. he then looked back on the road, his smile forming into a smirk.

“that shirt’s really low,” he stated.

“oh, now you say something?” i scoffed. “what? i was trying to be polite,” he shrugged.

“you’re always polite, dean. i never need to worry about that,” i said.

“good, i try,” he mimicked my words from earlier. “so,” he added, “who is this outfit for?”

“what? a girl can’t look hot just for herself?” i frowned.

“well, yes, she can, but your motives are always plotted towards a certain delinquent.”

i sighed, “you caught me.”

he chuckled, “i knew you didn’t just want to hang out.”

“i do! i really do. i just… thought i could kill two birds with one stone.”

“and that stone is you going to the diner, and the two birds are jess and i?” he asked.

“bingo! man, you are so smart. how does rory not like you?” i grinned.

he sighed, “beats me. it seems like every girl has fallen for that asshole.”

“awe, is someone jealous?” i asked in a baby voice. “admittedly, yes. it’s hard going from the “it, new guy” to “old new,” he explained.

“i thought tristan was the “it” guy?” i teased. “nah, not since i’ve arrived,” he grinned.

“well, what a good title you upheld. i wish that was my case,” i sighed.

“hey, rory might be star’s hallows baby, but you’re stars hallows woman. you don’t take anyone’s crap, you’re extremely proactive about the issues in this town, and you’re the hottest girl who lives here,” he listed.

“well,” i pulled a satisfied smile, “one can only be so amazing.”

“exactly! see, don’t worry over rory. everyone only loves her because they love lorelei, and sure, lorelei was a big change for this place, but you’ve been more impactful. rory doesn’t even like most people in this town, but you do. no offense to rory, though.”

“thank you, dean, i’d like to say the same thing about you. jess is dangerous, annoying, and rude. i know for a fact the only reason why rory likes him is because he lets her do whatever. but you, you’re caring, handsome, and aren’t a goody two-shoes, but you’re different and have an interesting family life and background. if rory doesn’t appreciate that, then i don’t know what will.”

he gave me a grateful smile. “thank you.”

“of course. it’s all true.” i looked out the window as we approached stars hallow downtown. i slapped my hand in dean’s chest, jumping in my seat. “slow down, slow down!” i rolled the windows down, sitting up right and puffing my chest out in a normal manner. “put your hand on my thigh,” i nudged dean.

“aye, aye, captain,” he sighed. his hand gripped my thigh softly and i smiled at him, thanking him with my eyes.

“all this work for a guy who won’t even call you his girlfriend,” he remarked.

i frowned. “yeah, well, i don’t see you trying to change rory’s mind while you bitch about your problems.”

he averted his gaze, focusing on the road. i turned back to the window, giving a smile as we strolled past jess. his mouth was agape in shock and disapproval. his eyes wandered across my body, stopping right at my thigh. i smirked as his hands balled into fists and he stomped away, throwing the newspaper he had in his hand into the trash.

“mission accomplished,” i clapped. dean’s hand slid off my thigh. “why don’t you just talk to him? isn’t that what adults do?” he asked.

“okay, one, i am sixteen. two, this is just how it’s always been. i like the chase, he likes the game. it always ends up good.”

“yeah, until the next morning when he’s gone and you’re cold and alone.”

i frowned deeply and looked down at my lap. “yeah, well, it’s like the next morning is something to look forward to under any circumstances.”

“yes, it is. it’s the time where you get to spend time with your significant other, cuddle and make breakfast. talk about your plans for the day, fall in love with her all over again.”

i looked over to dean, my brows raised. i smiled as he was daydreaming about him and rory.

“you’ll get that with her one day,” i said. “thanks,” he snapped out of his daze, parking next to the diner.

we both got out and i intertwined pur hands together as we walked to the diner, eliciting a chuckle out of dean. i smiled at him and looked ahead, my eyes finding their way to jess who was doing his job at the diner.

we walked in and got a table, jess immediately coming over to us to take our order.

“hey, jess,” i smiled brightly at him. he frowned, death glaring dean. “what can i get started for you today?” he asked with a clenched jaw.

“i think i’ll have a cheese burger, onion rings, and water, please. for you, babe?” i looked over to dean.

“uh, uh, i’ll have a double cheeseburger with fries and a coke, thanks,” he ordered, giving me a brief smile.

my eyes glanced over to jess. he was writing quickly and angrily on his notepad.

“coming right up.” he kept the frown on his face. he stomped away, going into the back to give ceaser the order.

“really tryin’, huh?” dean snorted. “i’m making progress, i swear,” i said.

“he’ll probably tell you to screw off more than fuck you,” he said.

“same difference,” i shrugged. “you’re going to lose him before you even get him,” he remarked.

i ignored his statement, sitting back in my chair and looking around the diner. i smirked as rory strolled in with lorelei.

“golden girl at twelve o’clock,” i stated.

dean’s head turned quickly and i could see the day dreaming begin to commence.

“you’re catching flies, man.” i nudged his foot under the table.

his head swung back to me, his face going pink. “whatever.”

i giggled, but then frowned immediately as i saw rory talking to jess again. he seemed to be the ones making the moves today.

“looks like your planned worked, good job,” dean chortled.

i kicked his ankle, eliciting a yelp from him. jess’s eyes shot over to us and he gave me a smile before turning back to rory.

two can play at that game.

i looked around, smirking as i found ryan, one of the boys from school. i got up and strutted over to him, “accidentally” dropping my purse.

“oh, damn!” i exclaimed, bending over to pick it up.

i eyed ryan as his jaw dropped, and jess, who was now death-glaring me. i smirked, picking up my purse and turning to ryan.

“sorry, ry, i’m just so clumsy sometimes,” i sighed exasperatedly.

“o-oh, no worries. be clumsy whenever you want,” he laughed nervously.

“i think i’ll take that offer,” i grinned. “mind if i sit?” i asked, pointing to the seat across front from him.

“no, not at all,” he shook his head vigorously.

“great!” i grinned, sitting down with a bounce.

ryan’s eyes followed my boobs as they moved. i leaned forward, pressing my arms together in a natural, but suggestive way. my tits were about spilling out of my shirt now.

“so, ry, how have you been?” i asked, taking a fry and biting it.

“good, how about yourself?” he asked.

“pretty good. except, i’ve been kind of… restless lately,” i frowned. i lowered my face, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. “think you could help me?”

he swallowed hard, nodding excitedly again.

“lovely,” i smiled. i took his hand, placing it under the table and onto my thigh where jess could see. i then ran it up my bare skin. i faked a shiver running down my spine, knowing that only jess wanted to make me feel this way. as ryan’s hands went under my skirt, jess left the front of the counter, his hand suddenly gripping my shirt and pulling me up.

“you’re coming with me,” he hissed my ear.

i tried to hide the excitement on my face, but i failed as dean mouthed a “have fun”. i let myself get dragged by him. he dragged me up the stairs, closing the door to luke’s loft. he threw me on the mattress on the floor that was his bed. my body molded to cushion; i had been here many times.

“you wanna act like a fucking whore in front of the whole diner?” he questioned.

i gave him a grin and nodded.

“fine.” he went down to his knees in front me. “i’ll make sure they hear you then, too.”

and with that, his hands ripped off my skirt. i gasped, shooting him a glare.

“that was new!”

“looked better on my floor than on you, anyways,” he shrugged.

i scoffed, but the sound quickly turned into a breathy moan as he ran his fingers over my panties.

“soaked and i haven’t even touched you until now? wow, pathetic.”

i stared at him. “ryan touching me got me pretty hot and bothered.”

he glared at me again, his body towering over mine as he went to whisper in my ear.

“ryan got you all hot and bothered, huh?” his hot breath fanned over my skin.

i nodded, giving him a cheery “mhm.”

his fingers hooked to my underwear, sliding it down my thighs and throwing it to the side. i quickly spread my legs, the ache in my stomach becoming too much. jess didn’t dive in, though. he just chuckled at my actions, the pads of his fingers tracing my inner thighs and just below my belly button.

“ryan get you this hot and bothered?” he asked as my chest was heaving up and down, my hips bucking up slightly in desperation.

i shook my head from side to side, my pleas forming into whines.

“i-i was just kidding jess, please.”

“awe, now that the princess doesnt get what she wants, she begs for it? takes her words back? i don’t think you can, baby.”

“please, jess!” i exclaimed. i went to grab his wrist to move it down, but he was faster. it grabbed my hand, looking me in the eyes. i pouted as he stared at me.

“how about dean?” he asked.

“n-no,” i shook my head.

he let go of my hand, bringing his own back to draw circled right above my entrance. i let out a high-pitched whine, bucking my hips up again. after a few moments of teasing me, without warning, he plunged two fingers into my heat.

“ah!” i squealed, the knot in my belly being met with satisfaction.

“fuck — you’re really wet,” he rasped. “yeah, dean really knows how to make a girl flustered,” i remarked.

his hazel eyes shot up to mine, his brows furrowing in anger. “keep that up and i’ll kick you out.”

my mouth clamped shut and i pouted. “but -”

“no buts, baby. now, tell me, could dean really make you this wet? could he really make you feel this good?”

his fingers curled inside of me, pumping in and out of me at a fast, constant speed. his fingers brushed up against my g-spot, causing my back to arch and a loud moan to fill my throat. my words came out sputtered as i tried to answer him.

“use your words, sweetheart,” he whispered into my ear.

“n-no,” i shook my head. “only you can do this to me. only you can make me feel s-so good.” i mewled as his thumb reached up and circled my clit.

“that’s what i love to hear.” i could hear the smirk in his voice.

he then attached his lips to my neck, his teeth harshly nipping at my skin. i let out a few “ah, ohs”, my hands making their way to his head. my fingers tangled themselves in his chestnut locks, twirling the ends. i pulled at the back of his head as he sucked heavily on my skin.

“j-jess,” i breathed. “mm?” he hummed as he kept sucking.

“you’re go-gonna leave a-a hickey.”

his tongue licked over the bruise he made, kissing it tenderly. he licked a trail up to my ear, nibbling on the skin below it lightly. “good. now everyone will know you’re mine.”

butterflies exploded in my stomach as he slurred the word. i nodded in agreement, bringing my head to look at him. his eyes were staring into mine, admiring the way my face scrunched up in pleasure. as i felt the pit in my stomach fill, he suddenly took his fingers out of me. i let out a whine of disapproval, looking up at him and pouting. my pout turned into a smile as i saw him taking off his clothes.

i sat up on my knees, taking off my shirt and bra. i helped him with slipping his shirt off, quickly throwing it to the side. i hooked my fingers under his jeans and underwear, shoving them down his thighs, causing him to chuckle.

“eager, are we?”

“you have no idea,” i shook my head. “good. me, too,” he disgarded his clothes.

i laid back down, spreading my legs and looking at him provocatively.

“gorgeous, as always.” he smiled at me, coming between my legs and lining him up with my entrance.

he gave me no warnings before diving in. i took in a sharp breath, my nails digging into his shoulder blades. he started moving fast, moans and groans coming out of both our mouths.

“you feel so good,” he grunted.

i replied with a breathy moan, the back of my head digging into my pillow. i squeezed my eyes shut as he hit the spot with every thrust.

“could ryan fuck you this good?” he asked lowly.

“n-no,” i shook my head. “could dean hit the spot each time?” he breathed out.

“no,” i said, then looked him in the eyes. i pulsated around him as i spoke. “could rory ever fit around your dick this well? could she ever make you feel the way i make you feel?”

he slowed his movements as he looked into my eyes. the chemistry was thick, intoxicating. i could barely breathe.

“never,” he answered.

i smiled, my heart soaring. “good.”

he smiled back, his hips then snapping into its usual rhythm. my question seemed to spark something in him. jess put my right leg on his shoulder, the new angle letting him pound inside of me impossibly deeper. he fucked me faster and harder, the tip of his dick brushing my cervix. not enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make me squirm and scream. my throat went dry as i started to chant his name and other profanities.

his right hand held himself up as his left came up to my breast, taking my nipple and playing with it in-between his third finger and thumb.

“jess, ah! ah, fuck. please, please,” i started to beg.

his lips curled up into a smirk and he squeezed my whole breast, the action causing my hips to jolt up. he dove his head down, replacing his hand with his mouth. his warm tongue lapped around my sensitive bud, his teeth pulling at it lightly.

i didn’t even feel his hand go down my stomach until i felt pressure on my clit. tears started to well up in my eyes, my nails raking down his back. he hissed, but didn’t stop.

“too much, too much,” i shook my head vigorously.

my body squirmed under him, my walls clenching around his dick, making him moan once more.

“you can take it. i know you can. be a good girl for me, yeah? i know you’re about to come,” he spoke, lifting his head up from my breast.

i nodded, my lungs breathless. my head rolled back and my foot that was on the bed curled and stomped on the mattress helplessly. my fingers dug into his neck, pulling violently on his hair.

my orgasm washed over me in one breath-taking wave. my back arched for the last time, my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

jess’s thrusts and hand movements got sloppy. he came inside of me, filling me with hot spurts. we both let out our last moans, the room falling silent. our chests heaved up and down as we laid next to each other.

i laid there for a few moments before i went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. after i came out, jess was sitting in a chair with only sweats and a book in his hand. i chuckled. typical jess.

i got dressed, going to the door to leave.

“hey, wait,” he said, getting up. he grabbed my hand to stop me from leaving. he looked in my eyes, making my heart jump.

“i love you,” he smiled. “wanna be my girlfriend?”

my face interrupted into a grin. i squeezed his hand, nodding my head. “yes, yes!”

“great. i’ll pick you up at eight for our first official date.”

“great.” i leaned up and pecked him on the lips. i whispered an “i love you”, making him grin from ear-to-ear. i bid him goodbye, running downstairs.

as i stepped into the diner, i giggled as i saw dean and rory kissing. they stopped for a second, rory blushing and dean smiling proudly. i gave him a wink, offering rory a kind smile, to which she returned.

i walked back home, taking a shower so i could get ready for our date. as i waited for the water to warm, i spotted the hickey he made on my neck. it was purple, blue, and big. i ran my fingers over it, smiling.

“mine,” i echoed his words.

————

Like and Reblog!

taglist form

@myalupinblack @lukes-orange-beanie @gallysonegoodlung

[thessclexa]

Blood Moon AU 

OR

The one where Clexa are soulmates tied by a thread that appears once every 100 years during a red moon. 

:::

It must be a mistake.

Professor Lexa Hartwood has studied the history of Threads as far back as it can be dated, which is estimated to be around one thousand years ago. Therefore, humanity has only experienced ten Threads in its years of existence. Lexa wrote her thesis on the evolution of Threads and teaches Blood Moon anthropology. The phenomenon has been known to end wars when people drop everything to follow their Threads; to start wars when family rivals and traditions clash; and yet, nowhere has there ever been evidence of a Thread that travels up into the sky.

Looking at her hand and the faint shimmer of red, Lexa wonders if it’s her personal obsession with Blood Moons to cause her own to be directed upwards. Now that would be a first. Although, certain theories suggest Threads are conjugated by the human mind and in essence, a mental projection without any tangible properties. Given her current circumstance, that theory might prove true. Though, Lexa feels extremely lucky to have this chance. While the general understanding is fifteen percent of the population will experience Threads, based on Lexa’s own research, the number is slightly less at thirteen percent.

Her eyes behold the Thread’s properties, it dances with certain majestic light and twinkles like a distant star. At this point, it might as well be a star. Lexa adjusts the focus on her telescope, trying to follow her Thread but it’s cut off by a cloud. Shifting her scope, Lexa angles it toward the moon, which is still hours away from showing any signs of redness. The curiosity within her grows exponentially, Lexa is further baffled by her Thread in absence of the Red Moon. There are only a handful of instances when people experience a Thread before the Red Moon.

 ///

 The Blood Moon happens every one hundred years and while mankind is no stranger to the red sphere in the sky and its effects, this will be the first time in history when the capability exists to study it. One hundred years ago, there were no rockets, satellites, or space stations. And this is the exact reason why Commander Clarke Griffin of Sky Command finds herself in orbit on the Arkaris 9.

“Do you have those calibrations, Reyes?”

“Yep, right here Griff.”

“Thanks.” Clarke takes the notepad and makes the adjustments. While she waits for the system to upload the manual input, her eyes rove out the small, triangular window and she looks down at the blue planet. It’s a stunning view. Opposite, Clarke looks at the moon; the full moon is less than twenty-four hours away.

“So… we’re a day away and you promised to tell me,” Raven says.

Clarke shrugs, “Historically, only an estimated fifteen percent of the population experience The Thread.”

“That’s not an answer Griff. It was—and still is—a yes or no question.”

“I… don’t know,” Clarke replies.

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s a thread visible only to and ties you to your soulmate.”

“It’s not only that, it also turns our oceans and crops red.”

“So, you’re telling me if you experience The Thread, you don’t know whether you’ll pursue it or not?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Clarke says quickly. “And it doesn’t always happen that way. The Thread has been known to reunite long lost siblings and in rare cases, orphans to parents—”

“Which we both know doesn’t apply to you, so your thread must lead to a soulmate,” Raven interrupts.

“I just don’t like…” Clarke pauses, struggling to find the right words.  

“Don’t like what?”

“I don’t like the implication that I don’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Clarke.”

“It just… takes away the mystery in life. The predisposition eliminates the thrill.”

“So—no? You’re giving up on your soulmate because you’re afraid to miss out on “the thrill”?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said exactly that.”

“Ugh, I knew this was going to be your reaction.”

“How could you say no to your soulmate?” Raven looks down at her hands wishfully. “God, I hope I get a Thread.”

“Aren’t you… dating Finn?”

Raven waves her hand dismissively in the air. “He’s not soulmate material,” she says and returns to looking at her hand. “What do you think it’ll look like?”

“A red thread,” Clarke replies flatly.

“Ha. Ha.” Raven gives Clarke a deadpan look. “Some say they even begin seeing a faint shimmer hours before the moon turns fully red and that those early connections are also the strongest.”

“Oh, what do you know,” Clarke directs a stare at Raven, who primarily serves as the Arkaris 9’s pilot. Clarke is the lead scientist and doubles as the crew’s emergency medic. “It’s also all myths,” Clarke continues, “lore in our history books. This is the first time we have a real chance to study the science behind the phenomenon. Think about everything we could learn.” She spins herself 180 degrees in the zero-gravity environment to a different monitor, one that links down to the Arkadia’s science station and she sends a routine data update. “Humanity won’t have a chance for another century.”

“Yes, and we’ll be dead, and you won’t ever know who your soulmate was.”

“You’re also implying that I’ll get a Thread in the first place. To be honest, I’m not expecting one.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Call it a hunch.”

/

Midnight

It’s early and Clarke stirs awake to the sound of her alarm for the night shift, though night and day don’t exactly matter in space. She’s tucked tightly in her sleeping alcove and it reminds her of camping trips with her father when he would zip her into her sleeping bag and kiss her good night. They’d stay awake past midnight and study the stars together. Jake was obsessed with space exploration and he was part of the first generation of spacewalkers. Unfortunately, he perished during his third mission on the Arkaris 4. There was an explosion, and the entire crew was lost; a leak in the oxygen line was suspected.

That was nearly 20 years ago, and technology has made leaps and bounds since. When Clarke opens her eyes, she’s greeted by a faint, red glow that fills the alcove. At first, she thinks it’s a light on the emergency alarm panel, but when she looks, nothing on the panel is lit. Strange. That’s when she notices the dim lighting is coming from her left hand. Admittedly, it’s far from a simple red thread as if some piece of yarn. Instead, it’s magical. It sparkles like a ray of sunlight in the dust. Clarke takes a few seconds to study it, twisting and turning her palm as the thread glistens.

The full moon is at least six hours away and already, her thread is profoundly visible. Clarke recalls Raven’s words, “Those connections are the strongest,” and Clarke doesn’t know what to make of it. Not only was she not expecting a Thread, but she is seemingly experiencing one of the strongest ones. Her curiosity is beyond piqued and Clarke walks to the nearest window where Earth is visible. As she steps closer, the Thread – her Thread – cuts through space like a laser and charts a path directly to the ground.

[faelune-home]

FFXIV Write 2021 #21: Feckless

(a/n: Another quick rush to submit this, so there is definitely some clean up near the end of this I’ll have to do when I post this edited for ao3 XD

But I realised I hadn’t written a job specific piece yet all month, and I was reminded of some astro fluff I’d done last year, which I suppose is tentatively mentioned here? If you want to read that and more of my WoL’s job learning habits, it’s here; Shuffle

But yes, a mix of wanting to write job stuffs - Jannequinard being the feckless one here, the inspo for this piece - and maybe have a Scion meet a job trainer, in this case Alphi. Which def makes me want to add another section to this given the trainers in question...but that’s for later edits, I already rushed this greatly aha.

Also, after sticking to using Fhara to refer to my WoL, and sticking to such situations where people would only know her as that, I finally got to try using “Fufu” as an adventuring alias with a crowd that would only know her as that. Finally representing the idea I’ve long had now. XD

Set after 3.2 and all that happened then. This is kind of taking my WoL’s penchant for taking on extra jobs more for the experience than to dedicate entirely to it, but then mixing that with her desire to do more to help her companions when she feels rather hopeless and lost.

Word count: 2006)

The air in Ishgard was tense following the failed peace conference in Falcon’s Nest, with uneasy whispers filling the cobbled streets and nervous glances to the skies. Alphinaud could scarcely blame the people for their wariness, having heard Nidhogg’s warning for himself. So set on revenge, he had even renounced his own kin, set on having the blood of Ishgardian and dragon alike to stain the land. And Estinien would be the one to administer the attack, against whatever will he would still possess.

The sight of his friend in such a state, the prone body of Vedofnir beneath him, skewered on his lance, had chilled Alphinaud at the time, and even still to recall it. Alongside the image of Aymeric, primed with a bow, ready to shoot his own comrade without hesitation...were it not for Nidhogg’s timely departure, that would be another companion sacrificed in the name of war.

In amongst his tormented memories of that calamitous day, he recalled Fhara’s conflicted expression. In amongst the rising roars and jeers of a hungry crowd, they were in their own bubble where not a word was said, only the share looks of pained terror at the turn of events, yet even her own fear seemed so much more. It was only later, overhearing the Fortemps family discussing the conference that he had learned more of what had happened that day, and Fhara’s own struggles with the conference, to put it lightly.

Afterwards, Fhara started going for more frequent lessons at the Athenaeum Astrologicum. So eager was she in her studies that she was often away from the manor or out of the city for days at a time. Alphinaud knew she was only keeping busy, and that he had no reason to fear for her safety, but eventually, after a few brief greetings in passing at the manor, he found himself desiring her company proper.

For all the bustle the Athenaeum Astrologicum had been put under in the recent weeks, it was surprisingly peaceful the day he arrived to visit, a welcome reprieve from Ishgard’s otherwise heavy atmosphere. Only a few students milled around within the building, hard at work studying star maps or tomes. The receptionist stood to attention at Alphinaud’s entrance, pushing aside a tome that had clearly been giving him some stress, the frustrated creases giving way to a welcoming, if affected smile.

“Good day, my young ser,” the older elezen said with a bow, “What manner of business brings you to our humble hall? A prior meeting or a dire emergency?”

“Nothing of the sort, sir, I’m merely looking for a friend,” Alphinaud stated, looking around the small space, trying to catch a glimpse of a blonde tail or the familiar pigtailed head he knew, “I’m aware that she’s made use of your establishment for study purposes?”

“Study purposes? Ah, I see,” the receptionist brightened up, after an initial look of curiosity had crossed his face, “You must mean the ever charming Miss Fufu. She does indeed study here under our own Lord Rufin, but she is out at the moment on an errand. Although I’m quite certain she’ll return soon, if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I wouldn’t wish to take up space, I’d be more than happy to return later-” Alphinaud started, already making for the door, when the other man quickly said, “Come now, there’s scarcely anyone here for you to trouble! And with how much work needs getting done here and how eager the young miss is about assisting us, you’d be better waiting here to catch her lest she runs off again.”

“I...I suppose knowing her, she does have an unfortunate tendency to take on more work for herself than is necessary,” the boy mumbled, ignoring the mild pang of guilt at how often he had given her that work in the past, even if she hadn’t ever questioned it or limited herself. He’d already promised her that he wouldn’t continue to blame himself for past mistakes.

“Then stay a while, all the better to wait with company, right?” Yet before Alphinaud could agree, if only to cease the chattering man and resign himself to a corner to wait, the sound of footsteps from the back stairwell seemed to make the receptionist’s grin fall to a worn grimace.

“If I were to ask now, how much is her work that of her own, and how much of it is meant to be yours? Even if you wish to say she took it on willingly, need I remind you that you’re still behind in your own studies in comparison? And I would be very surprised if you say you’re taking the time now to read up on your necessary materials while you’ve chosen to stay behind here.” The voice of the barrage of questions appeared, a hyuran woman with cropped purple hair and wearing a long white robe not unlike that of the city clergy, and with a firm disappointed frown aimed directly at the other man.

“How kind of you to join us Lord Rufin,” the receptionist coughed, attempting to give a placating smile, “Although I was under the impression that you had other business elsewhere.”

“And I returned while you were away from your post,” she replied, expression unwavering, “I did assume you were off assisting with whatever the Observatorium needed, and I would understand given the current troubles in the city, but if it turns out it was another pointless meeting with a young lady-”

“Not at all! My uncle has me far too busy for such arrangements, I assure you,” he scoffed, “Have some faith in me. And some faith in Miss Fufu, she offered to deliver my missives so that I would have a chance at further study.” The woman, Lord Rufin, narrowed her eyes, but didn’t press him further, only nudging his cast aside tome back in front of him, and then turning to Alphinaud.

“So, you’re a friend of Fufu’s? She has spoken somewhat of her companions, but most of our time together has been advancing her studies in astromancy,” she said, casting a quick glance across the boy, as though taking stock of him. He would’ve felt uncertain of the gesture if it weren’t for the friendlier tone she addressed him with.

“Aye, she has said that she found the time to learn such arts. Although I’m rather surprised that it appears to be the Sharlayan variant of healing magicks. I would’ve thought Ishgard opposed such methods,” Alphinaud nodded, noting the star globe hung from Rufin’s back. He did recall the first time Fhara had showcased her small talents, so long before her foray into the Aery, before many of the disasters that had followed them. Minor though they were, she did have an aptitude for some healing spells.

“They were, at first,” Rufin smiled, “But with enough work and convincing, plus admittedly the Holy See’s...diminished say in matters around here, some few folk have been willing to take on the arts. It helps that even outside of any fate reading skills, astromancy is a boon to have on the battlefield, something many of the soldiers have been keen to have for aid.” 

With a glance over her shoulder at the begrudgingly studious elezen at the desk, she added, more quietly for Alphinaud only, “And I suppose I have to admit that, for all he’s rather feckless when it comes to his studies vs Miss Fufu’s enthusiasm, Jannequinard was a great help in getting interest to take off amongst the other student here, and getting us the chance to showcase our skill in the first place.”

“I see,” Alphinaud nodded in response, noting the name and recognising it as a notable - for many reasons - Durendaire lord, however his curiosity was taken on another note, as he asked, “But why come all the way here to teach? Even if Ishgard eventually allowed it, knowing the Forum…”

“Yes, we had some letters and disagreements sent our way,” Rufin huffed, waving a hand in dismissal, “But in the end, they didn’t try to stop us, so I’m not going to worry about it.” Alphinaud suspected otherwise, noting how quickly she brushed aside the topic, plus his own experience overhearing his father at work, but chose better than to pursue it. It wasn’t any of his business.

At that time, the doors burst open, and Fhara appeared, panting heavily as she swept into the room, the skirts of her long gown flourishing behind her as the last of the chill wind caught it. 

“I’m back! Sorry I took so long, I got rather turned around in the Crozier delivering some of the messag-” Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught sight of her friend. “Oh, Alphinaud! I wasn’t expecti- I mean, is everything alright? Did something happen?”

“Calm yourself first,” Rufin chided gently, “You’re clearly quite flustered.”

“Please, nothing is wrong,” Alphinaud nodded, taking a seat from the table and guiding his friend to sit, “I was merely here waiting for you.” Some few seconds passed as Fhara breathed, trying to recollect herself. A tome snapped shut, and Jannequinard stepped out from the desk. “Lord Rufin, perhaps we should give these two a moment, given that the young lad came all this way to meet with his companion. And if you would be so kind, I could do with some help understanding a page or two here.” Rufin raised an eyebrow, but nodded, casting another glance at the pair before leaving with her coworker.

When the sound of footsteps ascending up the wooden stairs faded, Fhara turned to her friend and asked, “So, are you alright?”

The boy was briefly taken aback. “I’m perfectly alright. It is you I would ask that of.”

“Me?” She blinked.

“Well, it has been some time since we’ve properly seen each other these past few days. I know that you look for things to pass the time and keep you busy, of course, but I’ve been rather worried that you were almost too busy. And it seems so given how you seem rushed off your feet here.”

“It’s nothing like that!” Fhara gaped, although a guilty flick of the ear was already betraying her, “I’m just here learning from Rufin. Everything I’m doing is part of that, or doing some idle favours to show my appreciation.”

“Or lightening another’s workload to busy your own mind?” Fhara flinched at the accusation.

“But why? You’ve never been one for the healing arts other than as an idle study, more so for emergencies. I don’t wish to sound as though it’s odd to see you so invigorated for a subject, but why throw yourself into it now?” Fhara didn’t answer, her head turned down and gaze focused on the floor.

“...Is it because of the peace conference?” No reply.

“The Vault?” Her tail flicked.

“...Ysyale?”

“Yes,” she finally replied, a quiet mumble half buried into her chest, “Ysayle, and Minfilia, and Haurchefant, and everyone else. Estinien and Vedofnir, and Honoroit and Emmanelain, and that woman that tried to insight an outburst at the conference, and everyone else.” She finally looked up, wearing a guilty smile with tears already seeping from her eyes.

“I just want to help. But I don’t know what to do.” An ache pounded in his chest to see her weep. Even for someone so emotionally open, she was normally of the cheery type. To see her cry and bemoan how she couldn’t help everyone...

“You know you aren’t alone in this. I am here to help you- all the Scions are.”

“I know-”

“Don’t throw yourself into this if it's not something you really truly want. If it’s only for the sake of others. You would only bring yourself harm if you force it upon yourself.” Fhara sniffed, brushing aside the tears.

In that moment, he swore he wouldn’t leave her to shoulder it alone. He had already asked so much of her. He could spare his own strength to support her as well.

[a-medvezhonok]

Part 15 Sterling x April

After about an hour after April had woken up, during which she had snuggled with Sterling, washed her face, had breakfast, she was slowly becoming human again. When they went back upstairs to Sterling’s room, she got a little twinkle in her eye.

-Why don’t I try on your clothes?

-What, no you can’t.

April used a mocking tone. – Because your clothes are too long for me?

-What? No. Because it would be too much. I could barely handle you wearing my old grey t-shirt for pyjamas. For some reason you wearing my clothes has too much power.

-Oooh, all the more reason to do it and put on a fashion show. – At this April did fake dramatic poses. -You know Daddy took me once to a runway in Milan, I could teach you a thing or two about a catwalk.

-You mean like how to sit and watch women twice your height walk past you.

-Sterling Wesley, you are on very thin ice. – April paused, whilst Sterling had an internal freak-out about what it did to her when April used her full name. - Although I will admit, I was slightly more focused on the actual women than the clothes, but that’s beside the point. I still learnt some things.

At this April went into Sterling’s closet and started rummaging around. Sterling sat on the bed waiting and grimaced, wishing she had cleaned the closet more recently than she had. April re-emerged wearing denim dungarees with a white crop top underneath. Sterling couldn’t help but laugh, it was something she never thought she would see April wear.

-You look so gay.

-Thanks, I’ll take that as a compliment. I look like a builder.

-You do look a bit like you are in a boyband.

-Yes, that’s it. I look like a boyband member who is pretending to be a builder in their music video.

-So, gay.

-So, gay.

-I like the crop top on you though.

-Of course, you do.

April went back in and found a tight black dress to wear, but as soon as Sterling saw her in it, she said.

-Nope take it off, too powerful.

April grinned and took a ruler from Sterling’s desk and started to hit it against the palm of her hand like a teacher would.

-You don’t think you deserve to be punished for being a naughty student.

Sterling felt her blood rush to a very particular part of her body and whimpered.

-April please. – Sterling knew she had to look away before she embarrassed herself more.

April put the ruler down. -Fine, we’ll put a pin in it.

After quite some time April emerged wearing a suit. Sterling felt her jaw drop and she was worried she might be dribbling. Admittedly the sleeves and trousers were probably a bit too long for her, but she had improvised and rolled them up, which in Sterling’s mind made the outfit look even better. Sterling couldn’t take her eyes off her, her hair cascading down, but then April looked in the mirror and tied her hair in a low ponytail and Sterling felt like she was going to explode. It was her own suit, but ever since April put it on, she never wanted it back as long as it meant April would wear it. Finally she managed to utter a sentence.

-You look so good.

-I know. I always do.

Sterling scoffed.

-Although, I could look better. -she started slowly walking over to Sterling unbuttoning her blouse as she did so.

-Oh my God. – The last word came out as kind of a stutter, as Sterling couldn’t think straight, quite literally.

April lowered her voice. -Did you just use the lords name in vain?

Sterling couldn’t hold back anymore; April was on the last button of her shirt. She bent down on her knees in front of April and undid the last button. April lifted Sterling’s chin and smiled down on her. She lent down and kissed her. Sterling felt like she was in a trance, like she was begging to the angel in front of her. Then April broke it off with a quick – Ok, time for the next outfit.

She reappeared out of the closet wearing a large grey hoodie and matching sweatpants, she struck a pose.

-What do you think, do I get any street cred?

-Oh for sure. Practically Highway cred. – April rolled her eyes, but Sterling ignored her and carried on. - I’m just mad that you still look good. This shouldn’t look good on you, you manage to pull everything off.

-Are you mocking me?

-No, I’m being serious. You look all tough, like you could beet me up and I’d thank you for it.

April tensed up. Sterling realised that what she had said wasn’t appropriate in relation to the whole April’s dad situation.

-Oh sorry wrong choice of.

April pulled a strained small smile and then came back to herself.

She walked up to Sterling.

-Well can tell you what outfit I can definitely pull off.- At this she reached down for the bottom of Sterling’s top. -This one. – She lifted the top trying to get it over Sterling’s head. But Sterling hadn’t really lifted her arms, and so instead of the simple removal of a top, it ended up being kind of a strange wrestling match. Eventually Sterling won, and pulled her top down, she laughed as she said.

-Wow, that was really smooth.

April huffed, trying to hide her embarrassment. – Yeah well you weren’t being very cooperative.

-Sorry, I must have missed the class on how to let your girlfriend remove your clothes, with the cheesiest lines you’ve ever heard.

April cocked her head - Girlfriend?

Sterling suddenly got really nervous that maybe she had jumped the gun.

-Oh.. I didn’t realise we weren’t, yeah, umm…

April took her hand to reassure her. – I like it.- There was a comfortable pause between them.

-Right, you’re turn to do a fashion show. Dazzle me.

-What do you want me to put on? They’re my clothes. You’ve probably seen me wear most of them.

April though for a moment, and then her expression changed.

-Put on one of your Sunday dresses.

-For real?

April nodded.

Sterling went into the closet and changed. -Ok, but I’m not sure why you want me to wear this, they’re not that exciting. – But as soon as Sterling stepped out and saw April’s expression, that thought dissipated. She gave a little shy twirl. – So you like it? Go on say something, you’re never usually this quiet.

-Every Sunday I would see you walk into church in a dress like that, and every Sunday my body would go all jittery like it did just now. I always thought it was out of anger or in apprehension of any interaction. But I’ve just realised, it was so much simpler than that. You just looked really pretty, simple as that, you’re gorgeous.

Sterling felt her face go crimson; she didn’t know what to do with herself. Luke would compliment her all the time, telling her she looked pretty, or some other fly away comment about her appearance. Then the worlds felt empty or like a self-esteem boost at best. But with April, the way she always spoke with such conviction, like every word was a deliberate choice made it feel so much more genuine, her words settling permanently into Sterling’s heart.

[tlbodine]

The History & Evolution of Home Invasion Horror

Here’s my prediction: In the next couple of years, we’re going to be seeing a sudden surge of home invasion movies hit the market. For many of us, 2020 has been a year of extreme stress compounded by social isolation; venturing outside means being exposed to a deadly plague, after all. 

And while many people have already predicted that we’ll see an influx of pandemic and virus horrors (see my post on those: https://ko-fi.com/post/Pandemic-and-Pandemonium-Sickness-in-Horror-T6T21I201), I actually think a lot of us are going to be processing a different type of fear -- anxiety about what happens when your home, which is supposed to be a literal safe space, gets invaded. Because if you’re not safe in your own house...you’re not safe anywhere. 

Home invasion movies have been around a long time -- arguably as long as film, with 1909′s The Lonely Villa setting down the formula -- and they share many of the same roots as slasher films in the 1970s. But somewhere along the way, they separated off and became their own distinct subgenre with specific tropes, and it’s that separation and the stories that followed it that I want to focus on. 

The Origins of the Home Invasion Movie 

In order to really qualify as a home invasion movie, a film has to meet a few requirements:

The action must be contained entirely (or almost entirely) to a single location, usually a private residence (ie, the home) 

The perpetrator(s) must be humans, not supernatural entities (no ghosts, zombies, or vampires -- that’s a different set of tropes!) 

In most cases, the horror builds during a long siege between the invader and the home-dweller, including scenes of torture, capture, escape, traps, and so forth. 

To an extent, home invasion movies are truth in television. Although home invasions are relatively rare, and most break-ins occur when a family is away (the usual goal being to steal things, not torture and kill people), criminals do sometimes break into people’s homes, and homeowners are sometimes killed by them. 

In the 1960s and 70s, this certainly would have been at the forefront of people’s minds. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood detailed one such crime in lavish detail, and the account was soon turned into a film. Serial killers like the Boston Strangler, BTK Killer and the “Vampire of Sacramento” Richard Chase also made headlines for their murders, which often occurred inside the victim’s home. (Chase, famously, considered unlocked doors to be an invitation, which is one great reason to lock your doors). 

By the 1960s and 70s, too, people were more and more often beginning to live in cities and larger neighborhoods where they did not know their neighbors. Anxieties about being surrounded by strangers (and, let’s face it, racial anxieties rooted in newly-mixed, de-segregated neighborhoods) undoubtedly fueled fears about home invasion. 

Early Roots of the Home Invasion Genre

Home invasion plays a part in several crime thrillers and horror films in the 1950s and 60s, including Alfred Hitchcock’s Dial M for Murder in 1954, but it’s more of a plot point than a genre. In these films, home invasion is a means to an end rather than a goal unto itself. 

We see some early hints of the home invasion formula show up in Wes Craven’s Last House on the Left in 1972. The film depicts a group of murderous thugs who, after torturing and killing two girls, seek refuge in the victim’s home and plot the deaths of the rest of the family. In 1974, the formula is refined with Bob Clark’s Black Christmas, which shows the one-by-one murder of members of a sorority house and chilling phone calls that come from inside the home. 

Even closer still is I Spit on Your Grave, directed by Meir Zarchi in 1978. Although it’s generally (and rightly) classified as a rape-revenge film, the first half of the movie -- where an author goes to a remote cabin and is targeted and brutally assaulted by a group of men -- hits all the same story beats as the modern home invasion story: isolation, mundane evil, acts of random violence, and protracted torture. 

Slumber Party Massacre, directed by Amy Holden Jones in 1982, also hits on both home invasion and slasher tropes. Although it is primarily a straightforward slasher featuring an escaped killer systematically killing teenagers (with a decidedly phallic weapon), the film also shows its victims teaming up and fighting back -- weaponizing their home against the killer. This becomes an important part of the genre in later years! 

In 1997, Funny Games, directed by Michael Haneke, provides a brutal but self-aware look at the genre. Created primarily as a condemnation of violent media, the film nevertheless succeeds as an unironic addition to the home invasion canon -- from its vulnerable, suffering family to the excruciating tension of its plot to the nihilistic, motive-free criminality of its villains, it may actually be the purest example of the home invasion movie. 

Home Invasions Gone Wrong 

Where things start to get interesting for the home invasion genre is 1991′s The People Under the Stairs, another Wes Craven film. Here the script is flipped: The hero is the would-be robber, breaking and entering into the home of some greedy rich landlords. But this plan swiftly goes sideways when the homeowners turn out to be even worse people than they’d first let on. 

This is, as far as I can tell, the origin of the home-invasion-gone-wrong subgenre, which has gained immense popularity recently -- due, perhaps, to a growing awareness of systemic issues, a differing view of poverty, and a viewership sympathetic to the plight of down-on-their-luck criminals discovering that rich homeowners are, indeed, very bad people. 

Home Invasion Film Explosion of the 2000s 

The home invasion genre really hit the ground running in the 2000s, due perhaps to post-911 anxieties about being attacked on our home turf (and increasing economic uneasiness in a recession-afflicted economy and a growing awareness of the Occupy movement and wealth inequality). We see a whole slew of these films crop up, each bringing a slightly different twist to the formula.

*  It’s also worth noting that the 2000s saw remakes of many well-known films in the genre, including Funny Games and Last House on the Left.  

In 2008, Bryan Bertino directed The Strangers, a straightforward home invasion involving one traumatized couple and three masked villains. By this point, we’re wholly removed from the early crime movie roots; these are not people breaking in for financial gain. Like the killers in Funny Games, the masked strangers lack motive and even identity; they are simply a force of evil, chaotic and senseless. 

The themes of “violence as a senseless, awful thing” are driven further home by Martyrs, another 2008 release, this one from French director Pascal Laugier. A revenge story turned into a home-invasion-gone-wrong, the film is noteworthy for its brutality and blunt nihilism. 

2009′s The Collector, directed by Marcus Dunstan, is another home-invasion-gone-wrong movie. Like Martyrs, it dovetails with the torture porn genre (another popular staple of the 2000s), but it has a lot more fun with it. The film follows a down-on-his-luck thief who breaks into a house only to encounter another home invader set on murdering the family that lives there. The cat-and-mouse games between the two -- which involve numerous traps and convoluted schemes -- are fun to watch (if you like blood and guts). 

In a similar vein, we see You’re Next in 2013, which starts off as a standard home invasion movie but takes a sharp twist when it’s revealed that one of the victims isn’t nearly as helpless as she appears. Director Adam Wingard helps to redefine the concept of “final girl” in this move in a way that has carried forward right into the next decade with no sign of stopping. 

2013 of course also introduced us to The Purge, a horror franchise created by James DeMonaco. If there was ever any doubt as to the economic anxieties at the root of the genre, they should be alleviated now -- The Purge is such a well-known franchise at this point that the term has entered our pop culture lexicon as a shorthand for revolution. 

Don’t Breathe, directed be Fede Alvarez in 2016, is one of the creepiest modern entries into the “failed home invasion” category, and one that (ha ha) breathed some new life into the genre. Much like The People Under the Stairs, it tells the story of some down-on-their-luck criminals getting in over their heads when they target the wrong man. However, there is not the same overt criticism of wealth inequality in this film; it’s a movie more interested in examining and inverting genre tropes than treading new thematic ground. The same is true of Hush that same year. Directed by Mike Flanagan, the film is most noteworthy for its deaf protagonist. 

But lest you start to think the home invasion genre had lost its thematic relevance, 2019 arrived with two hard-hitting, thoughtful films that dip their toes in these tropes: Jordan Peele’s Us and Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite, which both tackle themes of privilege in light of home invasion (albeit a nontraditional structure in Parasite -- its inclusion here is admittedly a bit of a stretch, but I think it falls so closely in the tradition of The People Under the Stairs that it deserves a spot on this list). 

What Does the Future Hold? 

I’m no oracle, so I can’t say for certain where the future of the home invasion genre might lead. But I do think we’re going to start seeing more of them in the next few years as a bunch of creative folks start working through our collective trauma. 

Income inequality, racial inequality, political unrest and systemic issues are all at the forefront of our minds (not to mention a deadly virus), and those themes are ripe for the picking in horror. 

I know that Paul Tremblay’s novel The Cabin at the End of the World has been optioned for film, so we might be seeing that soon -- and if so, it might just usher in a fresh wave of apocalypse-flavored home invasion stories. 

Like my content? You can support more of it by dropping me some money in my tip jar: https://www.ko-fi.com/post/Home-Invasion-Stories-A-History-R6R72RV7Y

[obxlife]

Kookish Enough? (Kiara x Rafe)

A/N: Okay, so I truly believe in the theory that the anon is mentioning and I literally could not agree more. I mean, just from the short interactions between Rafe and Kie there was definitely a vibe that gave off the impression that something went down between them during Kie’s Kook year. I changed the request just a bit so I hope you don’t mind! I just felt like the changes fit the story better. Also, ngl I don’t really like this much but it was the best I could do tbh.

Pairing: Kie x Rafe, Kie x Pogues (platonic)

Word Count: 3,410

Request: hi! idk if ur still taking requests but one of my favorite fan theories in this fandom is that some shit went down with Kie and Rafe during her kook year, so I was wondering if u could write a fic where maybe they were dating but he pressured her to sleep with him and that’s why their relationship ended? or maybe he just hurt her in some way and then the pogues find out about it like when she apologizes to them after her kook year and what happened between her and Rafe is the reason she stopped talking to the pogues? sorry if this makes no sense. u can make it a ship if u want but I’d love it if it was just the pogues all being friends cause I loved that in comfort. also, u totally don’t have to write this if u don’t want, but I saw that other ask where the anon asked if u could post their ask and just let them know so I would appreciate it if u could do that, haha ok that's all thank u very much :)

Summary: What went down during Kie’s Kook year? Why did she stop talking to the Pogues? And why does Rafe have anything to do with it? The answer is pretty simple: Kiara was trying to be Kookish enough to be accepted.

Warnings: Rafe pressuring Kie into having sex with him

KOOKISH ENOUGH?

Ever since Kiara had become friends with Sarah, she was being teased a lot less by the rest of the Kooks. That did not mean that the teasing stopped. Especially when it came from Rafe Cameron and his group of friends.

See, Kiara had only become friends with Sarah very recently, and she felt as if her whole world changed because of it. Long gone were the hallway tauntings and the lonely lunch periods. Now, these times were occupied by hanging around Kildare’s Kook Princess and her friends, enjoying the feel of popularity and fitting in.

However, Kiara mostly kept this relationship inside of the school walls, as she would spend her free time with her other friends: the Pogues. She didn’t like mixing her two groups of friends (mainly because fights were sure to sprout between them), which left her no choice of hanging out with them separately. 

Rafe, on the other hand, was busy with his own friends. He had never even bothered to tease Kiara during school before, but when she suddenly showed up at his house perched on his sister’s arm, this quickly changed. Kiara was known around school for hanging around Pogues, and when Rafe noticed his sister hanging out with a Kook traitor (in other words, Kie), he knew he had to do something to stop it.

And so began the constant teasing and tormenting from his part. However, no matter how much he would call Kie names, the dark-skinned girl would never budge. She would show no emotion on her face as he would tease her, which ultimately pissed him off. Why was this girl, of all people, the only person that didn’t seem to be bothered by him? Or anyone, for that matter?

Little did the blond know that Kiara actually hated it. She didn’t like feeling under attack, and the boy would usually do just that. This did not mean she would pull away from her friends. She tried to ignore Rafe as much as possible while maintaining her relationships with Sarah and the Pogues, despite all the teasing she would receive. 

Kiara was strong, Rafe would give her that. And this only made her want to turn away more. But, one day after months of teasing from his part, Kiara lashed back at him.

“Hey, Kook traitor,” Rafe had called out to her that afternoon when she was exiting the school building. “Not hanging out with my sister today? Leaving her for the Pogues?”

Kiara only rolled her eyes as she hiked her backpack higher on her shoulder and tried to walk away. Rafe had been having a particularly bad day that afternoon, which made anger boil when Kie didn’t turn around to pay him attention. He latched onto her shoulder, spinning her around. He didn’t expect her to finally talk back to him.

“What do you want, Rafe? Or are you here just to continue bothering me?” she spat out at him. 

“I don’t want much,” Rafe began answering. “Just for you to stop hanging around my sister.”

“What’s it to you?” the girl replied. “It’s none of your business who Sarah hangs out with.”

“It is when she’s hanging around a Kook traitor.”

Kie was used to that term being used against her, so she didn’t even flinch. “So, what? You’re mad because, in your opinion, I’m not Kookish enough?”

Rafe hadn’t managed to nod back and spit out another angry reply as Kie turned around. “Grow up,” she said to him with finality.

Rafe’s blood boiled inside of his veins. How dare she talk to him like that? Who did she think she was?

Whatever Rafe told himself, he couldn’t deny the fact that Kie had slightly turned him on, and that he really wouldn’t mind that she continued to hang around his sister.

******************************************************************************************

When Kiara and Sarah had been best friends for about five months, the Camerons threw a party at their mansion. That weekend, their parents were absent (probably off to the Bahamas or something of that sort) which meant that the whole student body of Kook Academy was squished into their living room. 

Kiara was dressed in a crop top and some shorts, which were both from a well-known designer. She had begun to wear the clothes that her mother would buy her so that she would fit in more with the Kooks she had recently befriended. Maybe, she had thought, that way Rafe would tease her less. However, if you asked her about her change of wardrobe, she would never admit it was because of Rafe bothering her, no. She would lie and say that she had realized how pretty all of the clothes were and that she was just being stubborn before by not wearing them.

Rafe had noticed this change in Kiara. Her clothes were also a little bit more revealing than before, and he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander on her exposed skin. He had started to bother the girl less, but he still hadn’t stopped. This was mainly due to the fact that he had seen her hanging around with the Pogues recently, and although it was jealousy he was feeling, he told himself he was mad at the fact that she was still a Kook traitor.

When they bumped into themselves that night, they were both on the dance floor. Rafe had accidentally bumped into the dark-skinned girl, which caused her to turn around and apologize to him. However, upon realizing who she had crashed with, she swallowed her apologies back, expecting him to let out some stupid remark about how she was a Kook traitor and not good enough to be Sarah’s friends. But Rafe remained silent. He was entranced by how good Kiara looked that night, and he noticed the makeup that surrounded her eyes and how her hair looked extra shiny.

Kiara almost scoffed. “No teasing this time?” she questioned. “Am I finally Kookish enough for you?”

Rafe rolled his eyes and then smiled a little, leaving the girl before him confused. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Can we just forget about everything that happened between us and be friends?”

Kiara crossed her arms across her chest while looking over Rafe’s stance. He seemed sincere. Meanwhile, Rafe did everything he could to not let his eyes flit towards the girl’s chest area.

“Fine,” Kiara finally said. “But only because you’re Sarah’s brother.”

Rafe broke out into a smile and held his hand out for her to shake. When her hand slipped through his, Rafe felt tingles travel up and down the length of his body, so he dragged the girl forward and pulled her into a dance. Kiara giggled as they began to twirl and move to the rhythm of whatever trashy song was sounding through the speakers.

They spent hours and hours on the dance floor, never letting go of each other. Kiara was, admittedly, having a good time with the blond Kook. She was happy she had forgiven him, charmed by his witty humor and good looks. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she had thought.

All of a sudden the air between them became tense. The eye contact held between them was intense, and Kiara felt Rafe’s large hands pulling her closer to him by her waist. He was staring at Kie’s lips before looking up at her eyes as if asking for permission to kiss her. Kiara’s breathing was rapid and she felt herself grow nervous. Kiara had already had her first kiss before, but Rafe was a senior and a lot more experienced than she was. She worried that if they kissed she wouldn’t be able to live up to his expectations.

Suddenly, Rafe lurched forward and connected their lips. Everything surrounding them seemed to fade away, leaving them and the music and nothing else. Rafe kissed her tenderly, which surprised Kiara as she expected him to be rougher. When they broke apart they opened their eyes and shared a knowing look before smiling a bit. With that, Rafe dragged the girl away to his room.

They made out until the party was over.

*************************************************

Only two weeks after the party, Rafe and Kiara were dating. Secretly because of Sarah, but dating none the less. More than ever before Kiara was spending time at the Cameron mansion, sneaking away from Rafe’s sister to be able to meet him.

The relationship came almost at a perfect time for the pair. See, Rafe’s father was on his back more than ever because he was going to be graduating high school soon, which meant he was going to be getting involved with the family business. On the other hand, Kiara’s parents were happier than ever to see their child being acquainted with the Cameron family and spending less time with her previous friends. 

Their relationship served as a “stress reliever” to both of them. Their secret make-out sessions (which would sometimes escalate a little) and their nights whispering to each other were times they cherished a lot. Kiara would tell him about what she went through before befriending Sarah as Rafe would tell her about his father and his issues with him.

They both became extremely emotionally invested in their relationship. Which wasn’t a bad thing. Well, most of the time it wasn’t a bad thing.

The Pogues noticed how Kiara was spending less and less time with them, and they questioned her about it.

“What’s up with you lately?” John B had asked the last time they took the boat out to the marsh with her.

“What do you mean?” she tried to avoid the topic by raising another question.

“You’ve been avoiding us recently,” Pope explained from where he eyes Kiara over his book. “Is it because of Sarah?”

“Sort of,” the girl said, unsure if she wanted to tell them about why exactly she was seeing the boys less.

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?” JJ inquired from where he was pulling a net full of fish from the water. “Did you get a boyfriend or something?”

Kiara blushed, confirming what the blond boy had said was true. “No way!” Pope exclaimed. “Who is he? Is he a Kook?”

“God, please don’t let it be a Kook,” John B exclaimed jokingly.

Kiara was mad at this statement. So what if Rafe was a Kook? Shouldn’t they just be happy that she’s found someone she liked?

“Actually, it is a Kook,” she said, the tone of her voice showing she was pissed off.

“Wait, really?” John B questioned. “Well, we should have expected that, actually.”

Kiara furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know,” JJ said, his jaw clenching and unclenching repeatedly. “Just that you’ve been blowing us off to hang around all of those Kooks from your preppy school.”

“So what?” Kiara spat out. “I’m sorry I made some other friends that aren’t you guys.”

“That’s not the point, Kie,” Pope said. “It’s cool that you’ve made friends, but you aren’t hanging out with us anymore.”

“That’s a lie! What am I doing right now?”

John B scoffed. “Yeah, and you’re hanging out with us after how long of not doing so?”

Kiara looked down, intertwining her hands. They were sort of right. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just - I spent so much time hating the academy and now that I have friends it doesn’t suck anymore. And I don’t want it to suck again. So I have to spend time with the Kooks.”

“We know that,” JJ said as he gathered up the fish he had pulled out from the water. “Just hang out with us too.”

That afternoon, Kie promised the boys she would hang out with them more frequently, but she didn’t manage to keep that promise.

When she arrived home, Rafe was waiting for her with a frown on her face. That was when she knew she was going to have to cut off the Pogues.

******************************************************************************

Kiara hadn’t realized how much she relied on the Pogues until she couldn’t contact them. Rafe would get mad each time she did that, and normally she would have stood up for herself and her friends, but she didn’t want her school life to go back to what it had been before Sarah and Rafe. 

She was mad at herself for being weak and for wanting to stay with Rafe. Before that day that Rafe had confronted her about the Pogues, she still talked to them every day via text messages despite not hanging out with them much. But now, she didn’t even talk to them anymore. 

Rafe was demanding. The couple of months they had been together evidenced that. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with Kiara, whether to keep her under his watch or just to be distracted from his own problems she didn’t know. Kiara felt like she was drowning in the waters of Rafe Cameron’s deep eyes, waters that managed to encapture her and lure her into his world of problems. 

Kiara noticed how he began to leave his house at random times while she was hanging around with Sarah. When he would come back, he would seem distracted and unfocused. Almost as if he was not actually in the room. His eyes would travel across his surroundings without stoping on anyone’s faces or without hitching even once. It was almost as if his glazed orbs were looking at a blank canvas and moving over it. Kiara didn’t understand what was wrong with him, but she didn’t want to pressure him into telling her. She knew Rafe would only get mad at that.

However, when it had been going on for too long and it was happening too frequently, Kiara decided enough was enough. Something was wrong with Rafe and she was going to get to the bottom of it. 

When Sarah fell asleep that evening, Kiara stood as quietly as she could from the bed where she lay, removing the covers from her body. She walked down the hallway and opened the door to Rafe’s room without emitting a single noise. She really didn’t want Ward or Rose to realize she was in the bedroom.

It seemed as if Rafe hadn’t heard Kiara stepping inside because when she turned around to look at him, he was hunched over his desk. Kiara noticed a dollar bill rolled up in his hands and he seemed to be holding it close to his nose.

“Rafe,” she startled him, confusion dancing across her eyes. “What are you doing?”

The blond stood from where he was seated and tried to cover Kiara’s view of the desk. But she saw exactly what he was doing.

Kiara couldn’t believe it. Was Rafe that fucked up that he had turned to drugs? Was she not enough comfort for him?

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he questioned the girl who was backing away from him. Rafe saw the slight fear in her eyes, which made him know she had seen what was on his desk.

“What’s wrong, Rafe? Why are you doing d-drugs?”

Kiara was trying to handle the situation, but she didn’t know how to do so. Was she supposed to approach him gently and try to get him clean? Was she supposed to keep her distance from him because of what he was doing? She didn’t know, she didn’t know.

“Babe, I swear it’s nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated. Her voice was shaking a little bit, and Rafe tried to take hold of her hands to calm her down. She only flinched away from his touch. “Those are hard drugs, Rafe. What is going on?”

“Kie, please keep your voice down. I pro-”

“Why? So nobody hears that you’re doing drugs? Coke, nonetheless?”

She was completely freaking out. Rafe couldn’t have her freaking out and letting everyone in his house know what he was doing.

“Kie, calm down, okay? Yes, I’m doing drugs, but I swear it was just this one time.”

“Don’t lie! Is this why you’ve been coming back all whacked out at random times during the day?”

Rafe sighed. He rubbed his hands over both of his eyes before tousling his hair a bit. He needed Kie to calm down.

“Okay, I admit I’ve been doing this for a while. But I promise this is the last time-”

“Stop lying, Rafe! We both know this isn’t your last time.”

“No, we don’t know that. Look., I’ll stop doing drugs. But please don’t tell Sarah what I was doing. I don’t want my family to know.”

“I can’t do that, Rafe. You need help.”

“NO, I DON’T!” Rafe suddenly yelled. Kiara pushed her body into the door of the room. “I’m fine, okay? I have my shit together and everything is okay. Okay?”

Kiara only shook her head as tear began to fall from her eyes. “Who are you?” she whispered.

“I’m me, baby. I’m still Rafe,” he tried to convince her. Or was he trying to convince himself?

“No, you’re not. Not the Rafe I knew.”

Kiara turned around to open the door and run away from whoever was standing before her, but he tugged her back by her arm. A yelp escaped past her lips, indicating that Rafe had hurt her. He let go at once, giving the girl before him a pleading look.

“I can’t be with you anymore. I don’t know how to be with you,” she said before opening the door and running away.

That night, they both fell asleep feeling like cowards.

*****************************************************************

Kiara cried for days. It was her first break up, and it was caused by something she would have never expected. 

She tried to be positive around everybody, but they could all tell she was not okay. They didn’t ask her about it though. Not even her friends from school. Not even Sarah.

Kiara spent most of her time locked away in her room. No texts came in. No one called.

After spending the whole week crying, she finally decided enough was enough. And so she pulled her phone out from the drawer she had kept it in during the past hours and sent a couple of texts to Sarah. 

While she waited for a reply, Kiara began to clean herself up. She took a much-needed shower and changed out of her dirty clothes. She brushed her hair and curled it the way Sarah and a couple of other girls from the Kook Academy had taught her. Then she checked her phone, expecting to see Sarah’s reply.

However, the blonde girl had read the messages and not replied. That’s weird, Kiara thought. She must be busy. 

Kiara tried to message some other girls from school to see what they were up to and if any of them were with Sarah, but no one replied.

Deciding to pass some time, Kiara opened the Instagram app on her phone, scrolling through stories and skimming over some posts a couple of people had posted recently. She suddenly stopped when she saw a story of some girls that were dressed to attend a party, and as she read what the image sid above it, tears flooded Kiara’s eyes.

Sarah had celebrated her birthday today. And she hadn’t invited Kiara.

In her rage, Kiara contacted the police claiming to be making a noise complaint. She recited Sarah’s address before hanging up and crying for a short while on the floor of her room.

Once her tears were all gone (and she was extremely dehydrated), the dark-skinned girl stood up and left her house.

The walk to her destination was short, but she was going at the slowest pace possible to avoid getting there. She was nervous as to what they would say, but she was tired of being a coward. She had to suck it up and accept the consequences of her actions. And she would start by apologizing.

Once she reached the Chateau, Kiara wiped her eyes just in case there were any stray tears. She looked towards the dock, where she saw three bodies lounging around. Pope was reading and was holding a flashlight towards his books. JJ was holding a fishing pole while smoking a blunt as he spoke to John B, who was perched on the railing and sipping a beer. 

Kiara breathed in, trying to relax her muscles. She could do this. She had to do this. And with that, she approached the three boys.

[cryxmercy]

Backdraft || Mercy & Arthur

When: A couple of weeks before New Year’s Eve. Immediately following this. Where: Arthur’s office @ the University. Who: Mercy and @arthurjdrake

TW: one mention of preventing potential head trauma, but no actual head trauma; possible memory loss tw (for a few brief moments of confusion)

Sometimes the simplest solution is not the right one. 

By the time Mercy had driven the distance from the house to the University, she’d managed to pull her scattered thoughts into some small semblance of order. She could still feel the unsettling pins and needles sensation across the skin of her arm, and her anxiety thrummed like a swarm of angry bees, but the former had at least faded a bit as she’d distanced herself from the cause. For now at least.

She didn’t linger too long in the parking lot, but also tried not to look hurried as she made her way towards Arthur’s office. As always, she entered without knocking, except this time she closed and locked the door before settling heavily into the chair opposite his desk. Mercy sat there, legs crossed, foot shaking up and down as she worried her lip with her teeth. 

“How’s marking?” she asked after a bit, indicating the enormous pile of papers on his desk (and promptly avoiding the real reason for her visit). “Want some help?” 

Arthur reclined in the aged leather chair a crisp winter breeze stirring some of the coursework papers stacked in piles upon his desk. His eyes tracked back and forth across each line of text as he read, still and quiet save for the lo-fi music drifting out of a bluetooth speaker on the shelf. Occasionally the stillness was broken with a reach for his fourth freshly brewed cup of coffee, a sip before its return to the ornate coffee mat off to one side of the desk. 

The process was methodical, reading through the coursework before a second read through was taken with pen to paper marking addendums or eliminations of unnecessary or particularly insightful details. And then the tedious task of checking each citation list for formatting errors - the most boring part of the process admittedly.

It wasn’t surprising for Mercy to arrive unannounced and deposit herself in the chair opposite and Arthur didn’t look up initially though the click of the lock was different. A flicker of his eyes followed, a quick track from the door to Mercy and then back in a fraction of a second until he finished reading and set the paper aside. “Honestly I’m actually almost done with them,” it wasn’t entirely true but it was clear as day she was skirting around something. “I’m surprised you came down. I’m almost done for the day to be honest.”

Mercy wasn’t bothered when Arthur didn’t immediately look up from his marking. It wasn’t as if her presence was anything unusual at this point, even if her behavior was slightly out of the ordinary this time. His decline of her offer to help was acknowledged with a distracted hum instead of Mercy’s usual sarcasm or witty retort, and although the rest of what Arthur said wasn’t phrased as a question, they had known each other long enough to know when one was being asked.  

This time it was Mercy’s gaze that flickered towards Arthur before sliding over the papers on his desk, and then to the other neatly stacked piles of letters and correspondence that sat here and there. She even glanced towards the rubbish bin, but there was nothing that caught her eye. Best get on with it then. 

“A letter came for me today.” At first, it sounded like nothing unusual. Everyone received letters in the mail on occasion. It was the addendum to that statement that made all the difference. 

“A Black Letter.” 

Arthur knew it was simply a matter of time, he didn’t need to probe or ask to know that eventually an answer to why she was here would present itself. He waited, giving her time to process and search for the words she wanted to put together, and as expected it came not much later. A letter. Not all that strange but he was sure there would be something that set this mail apart. 

The scratch of his fountain pen stilled with the further clarification; a dark blot staining the paper as the ink bled out his hesitation. The stark proof of his conflicted thoughts and feelings towards this revelation laid bare. 

Firstly: relief over the simple fact he hadn’t received such a notification himself. Wasn’t apparently still bound to a contract he too had signed and agreed to.

Secondly: ire that Mercy was still beholden to a contract signed such a long period of time ago which was somehow being seen as something she was beholden to act upon. It was nonsensical and illogical and made his blood steam in his veins. 

The ink continued to run for several long moments before Arthur finally retracted the pen and set it aside, cracking his knuckles individually as he finally looked at Mercy across the desk. “What do they want?”

A small furrow appeared in Mercy’s brow as she watched the ink blot spread across the paper. Further proof that Arthur hadn’t received a letter of his own. If he had, he would have already been aware of the fact. So she knew he had to be relieved. Why wouldn’t he be? He was a different person now, wasn’t he? The man that had signed that contract so many years ago now had long since died and been reborn. Many times over. 

Unlike Mercy. Who was as she’d always been. And always would be. 

But even so… surely there was a statute of limitations on such a thing? Surely she wasn’t beholden to a contract signed nearly half a millennium ago. Surely there was some mistake. 

The ache in her arm told her otherwise. 

So Mercy waited as Arthur absorbed the information. All the while, a voice in her head whispered ‘See? It doesn’t matter what you do… or who you try to be… how you try to live… you will never find peace… you will never be free…’ 

Fingers pressed against her temple as she forced the voice into silence. As she did, Arthur asked his question, to which Mercy could only shake her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t touch it yet.” Her hand flexed. “I thought you might’ve-” But she stopped short, letting out a sharp huff of air. Mercy set her jaw, her next words coming far steadier than she herself felt. “But I don’t suppose you would’ve. That’s good. That’s-” She nodded once, flexed her hand again. “- good.” And it was. She wouldn’t wish this on Arthur. Not ever.  

A bit of silence followed, until finally Mercy seemed to deflate.

“I don’t want to read it. I don’t… want anything to do with it.” She looked up at him finally, her eyes full of shadows. “I’m tired, Ren. I’m just… so fucking tired…”

Absentmindedly Arthur started to lightly pull at the sleeve of his jumper, worrying the fabric in thought now that his pen was out of his hand. It was an old habit, one that seemed to transcend lifetimes. To fiddle with any one of the many little knick knacks scattered across his desk and failing that stretch the sleeves of his jumpers into paws when his brain started to work overtime.

His eyes fixed on the letter, wondering just what the contents might pertain to. What they would want after all this time. Surely their contracts were done. Null and void to the dusts of time. But apparently not. How many more times would this happen across their lives? Something from centuries past cropping up to haunt them with living nightmares. “No it isn’t,” the words came out sharper than intended and a scowl marred his expression “no it isn’t good. This” he punctuated jabbing a finger at the letter “isn’t fair.” 

The silence that followed was deafening and Arthur’s scowl only deepened the more he looked at the letter.

“Then we burn it. We get rid of it. No letter no message.” It wasn’t that simple. It never was, but he had to suggest it at least. 

Mercy’s eyes drifted to Arthur’s hands, watching the familiar habit with a mixture of fondness and worry. Her thoughts moved in the same vein as his: how many more times would their past come back to haunt them? How many years - how many lifetimes - would they have to live before they were allowed to simply… be? Obviously 400 years didn’t mean that particular quota. 

It wasn’t until Arthur spoke that Mercy looked up again. Her frown deepened, and for just a moment she wanted to explain that she’d meant it was good that he hadn’t received a letter as well. But Mercy knew Arthur was perfectly aware of what she’d meant. So his anger wasn’t surprising. Part of Mercy was even glad for it… needed it even. But only because it solidified what she already knew: that they would find a way through this. Together. 

“No. It’s not.” Mercy’s scowl grew to nearly match Arthur’s as she watched him stare at the letter. 

The suggestion of simply burning the damn thing gave Mercy pause. Had they tried that before? Gods it had been so long ago… But the letter was still sealed. So whatever ‘contract’ lay inside was still inactive. Perhaps with enough of the right sort of fire, they could be shot of it. 

“It’s worth a try,” Mercy said. Though it was never that simple, was it? “We should go home. The firepit on the back porch should work fine.” Mercy stood, knowing Arthur would never be able to concentrate on his marking now, and feeling a wash of guilt - and the stirring of old fears - that couldn’t be helped. “I’m sorry, Ren, I- I thought this was behind me. Behind us.” 

There was something to be said about his tactile nature, a need to always have something on his person to keep his hands occupied and distracted. On the occasions he didn’t have any such object or item to fiddle or fidget, his fingers often sought out other alternatives. Such as his jumper, though it was typically the rotating dial on his iron plated watch. Today in his distraction though the cotton stretched over his fingers as he proceeded to rub his scruff lined chin idly with his thumb. “No,” he agreed, echoing her own words in his contemplation of the scenario, “no it’s not.”

He released the sleeves with a final huff and leaned forwards, snagging the letter and bringing it up to study intensely while Mercy answered. Why couldn’t they burn it? Surely that would be enough. If the letter wasn’t opened. If it simply… ceased to be. Perhaps it would buy them time to figure out what they needed to do in the interim. “Don’t be sorry,” his eyes flickered up from the intense stare he was currently directing towards the letter, the intensity of his expression easing into something softer. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Without another word his attention returned once again to the thick folded parchment, the wax seal pressed in to hold it shut and the intensity of his focus narrowed to a pinpoint. He imagined each particle of the paper vibrating at an infinite frequency beyond what the eye could see, gradually building in frequency. He thought of the countless firesides the two of them had sat beside, sometimes in jovial jest and others in sorrowful grief, the warmth of drink in their cups and laughter in the air. But each fire began with a spark and he willed that spark to ignite here. To burn the very paper in his hands.

What Arthur failed to notice was the creeping drop in temperature, the heat being drawn forth and consumed, much as stars are crushed in the void of space. Infinite and precise, but where typically a flame would spark, curling the edges of the paper into a burning cinder his brow furrowed. 

Nothing. 

No spark. 

Absolutely nothing. 

There were few things in the world that could unsettle Mercy quite so abruptly as a Black Letter. Once, it had been a means to an end. A way to serve a purpose. A way to put her unique ‘talents’ to good use. Or so she’d thought. So they’d both thought. Arthur had been there too, right alongside her. Looking for something to help make sense out of so many lifetimes come and gone. And they had done good things back then, thievery and subterfuge aside. They had saved lives in keeping what wasn’t meant for humans out of their hands. But the altruism had eventually turned to something else. Something greedy and wicked that she and Arthur had been bound to regardless of their personal feelings. 

But they had fulfilled their contracts centuries ago. The agency was long disbanded, and the other creatures they’d worked with were long dead, barring perhaps a scant few that had been fae or undead. It simply made no sense. 

Mercy was silent again as Arthur picked up the letter. She tensed, expecting something to happen, but the letter remained quiet. Only when his gaze softened as he turned it towards her did some of that tension ease. Her expression followed suit, softening the tightness around her eyes, but she remained standing once their decision had been made. 

She’d seen Arthur do this thousands of times, and it still never ceased to amaze her. Yet in the countless lifetimes they’d spent together, Mercy had never seen him call forth the flames… and fail. Until today. The thought rested on her tongue that perhaps the letter simply couldn’t be burned. That perhaps whoever was sending it knew Arthur was with her and that he would try to destroy the letter. Perhaps it was simply charmed against phoenix fire. 

But Mercy never got the chance. 

The air she sucked into her lungs burned. Not with fire, but with ice. Mercy frowned deeply at the sensation, but it was so sudden and so frigid that it set off a violent coughing spell that left Mercy gasping for air - both hands braced against Arthur’s desk - before her healing factor kicked in. “Arthur, what -” She coughed again, and her breath rose in a white cloud as the temperature continued to drop. “- what’s happening?”

It was sudden and without warning that the snap-frost hit; sucking the very essence of warmth from the room and layering the windows in a thin striated pattern of ice crystals. It was a blast of energy, too much for his body to cope with and where typically he might’ve been able to absorb it at present it was too much. The overload caused a wrack of shivers to shudder through his frame where he sat his senses fried from the force of sudden adjustment.

The soft flutter of paper falling through the air broke the silence, brushing the wooden floor and vanishing under the desk forgotten for the moment and rather unimportant by most accounts in the moment. These strange bouts of power fluctuations had been growing increasingly more sporadic, first around the house but now any attempt to summon a flame practically short-circuited him for several hours at a time leaving him weak and so very cold.

He shuddered unable to support himself even sitting as he was and half slipped out of the chair, a rag-doll without a spine. Dark eyes slipped shut, eyelashes fluttering in sync with the chatter of his teeth and the rattle of his fingers “I- I-” but nothing more came, dissolving in a short cloud of cold breath.

The sluggish attempt of his supernatural constitution did little to help while attempting to pull himself back into the chair, trying to kickstart an engine that had presently flooded itself. All Arthur could groan, in a deep, grating rasp is “fuck.” 

The black letter was all but forgotten as Mercy watched Arthur start to crumple under the magical blowback of whatever had just gone horribly wrong. Her own breath still rose in a white cloud, but her supernatural healing factor was quickly pushing back at the cold. The same should have happened to Arthur, faster than Mercy honestly, but to her horror, it didn’t. 

“Arthur- Woah! Hey…” She bolted around the desk, trying to catch him before he could crack his skull open. He was trembling so badly that for a moment Mercy thought he was having a seizure. “Sshhh, it’s alright… don’t try to talk...” Then his eyes started to close. “No… no, hey. Ren… Hey! Stay awake…” she said, taking his face in her hands. Gods above, but he was so cold. “Just… don’t move, okay? I’ve got you.” 

She held him close, trying to warm him as best she could until whatever the hell this was passed. She tucked his arms beneath her jacket and sweater as best as she could manage with Arthur barely able to help. Then she pressed her palms to the sides of Arthur’s neck, over the great arteries that pulsed just beneath his half-frozen skin, in an attempt to keep the blood flowing to his head warm. She was shivering a bit herself, but she was still far warmer than Arthur. Though for how long?

Having spent the majority of her 1200 years with Arthur, Mercy knew how to care for all manner of things that had afflicted him over the years. But this was a first. So Mercy was at a loss. Other than trying to keep him warm. She would have to call for help if this didn’t let up. But the list of people she trusted was short. It contained two, maybe three people. Thank the gods she’d locked the door earlier. The last thing they needed was someone walking in right now. Arthur groaned, and Mercy rubbed a hand down his back.

“Where does it hurt?” she asked gently, hoping to keep him focused on staying awake if nothing else.  

As a general rule of thumb, Arthur prided himself on his resilience. The ability to withstand bad things when they happened; riding them out until they reached the other side or at least long enough until a semblance of light shone through. Right now there was naught save the bone-deep chill that had shot through his body in an instant. One moment he could recall being sat at the desk and the next he’d felt so tired and then there was a voice. Familiar yet distant.

The hands felt like searing points of heat against his skin; which itself was covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Too hot. It was too hot and frantically he attempted to push her hands away, writhing and fighting between tremors of his muscles. 

Arthur could swear the room was closing in on him, the walls growing increasingly confined and constricting. Or maybe that was just his airway, it was hard to tell in the mounting panic that was sinking into his current state of consciousness. The air rushing in and out, faster and faster until his head began to spin, every frantic blink causing the room to shift first to an office, then a library, a bar and eventually a dark cell. The sudden shock to his system had him scrambling, reaching for whatever was nearest (Frey’s arm if he had any recollection or understanding in his panic).

Each breath felt more laboured than the last, struggling to fill his lungs as he clawed and gasped. Please. Please. Oh Gods make it stop.

Mercy didn’t understand. She didn’t understand any of it. Other than it was all wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. Only the scar on her hand throbbed and flared as it always did when Arthur was in distress, though the fact brought little comfort.  

She didn’t know her touch was hurting him, and could only assume that in his bleariness he was confused and frightened as he seemed to fight against her hold. But then as suddenly as he’d been trying to push her away, something shifted, and he was grasping for purchase instead. His clawing, scrambling hands seeking anything to hold onto, anything that would hold him steady as the world spun out of control and he started to panic. Sucking in lungfuls of air that would never be enough to satiate his shell-shocked body’s desperate need for oxygen. 

“Breathe, Aren…” Mercy said, holding onto him as best she could without making anything worse. “Breathe for me…” She clasped his hands and pressed them to her chest as she spoke, hoping the deliberately slow  rise and fall of her breathing would help him slow his own. “Breathe in…” Inhale. “Breathe out…” Exhale. Mercy would’ve used her power to try and influence his psychological state, but her Fury magic had never affected him. So she didn’t waste her energy. “Breathe in… breathe out… I’ve got you… you’re safe…” Mercy would repeat the mantra as long as she needed to. As long as it took to bring him back to right. 

The panic was instantaneous as shock began to set in, bewilderment at his own sheer inability to control himself. The room dropped several more degrees as Arthur’s body shuddered. He was left gasping to try and draw in much needed air while utterly unable to stabilise its core temperature that was steadily beginning to creep higher and higher steam rising in the cold air of the room before it would plummet just as quickly as a candle being snuffed out. “W-What’s g-going on?” 

In an instant he was plunged into the memories of a similar time of panic, an alternate dreamscape, a different time - in aid of a friend that had ultimately been for naught. For that friend was long since gone. Yet it was a time that he’d felt water for the very first time without pain, only to realise his inability to swim and almost drowned in the process.

So he clawed and grasped at the only anchor that existed in the moment, the only anchor that had ever existed across all of time until with time his mind began to quieten once more and the white noise began to fade into the rhythmic instructions of a familiar voice. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe. 

Several more minutes passed until the room gradually warmed, Arthur’s breathing growing calmer until he could turn his face into her arm. Another full minute came and went before he was wracked with another bout of shivers before weakly attempting to push himself back into a sitting position. “What happened?”

Mercy opened her mouth to tell him… something… anything… that might explain what was happening. But the truth was, Mercy had no idea. As long as they’d known one another, something like this had never happened. Was it the letter? Had trying to burn it caused some… critical disruption of Arthur’s magic? But no… there had been episodes of his powers malfunctioning - for lack of a better term - for a bit now. Whatever it was, it couldn’t continue indefinitely. Mercy’s breath shuddered as the temperature dropped again, but she ignored it. She would be alright, despite the way the cold made the few scars she had ache miserably. As for his question… “We’ll figure it out, I promise… but right now you have to try and breathe, okay?” 

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours until Arthur finally seemed to stabilize. When he was breathing normally again - or as close as he was likely to get at the moment - Mercy fell quiet. She stayed by his side, gently stroking his hair and then pressing a hand to his forehead to check his temperature when he shivered. When he tried to sit up, she gave him a bit of space, but kept a hand on his shoulder to steady him. Again, came his question. This time, Mercy was honest. “I don’t know. You tried to burn the letter, and then...” She frowned, but eventually relayed the short version of what had happened. 

“How d’you feel?” she asked, though it was clear he did not feel great. Not one bit. “Does anything hurt?”

Arthur blinked slowly, his head throbbing with each breath he took to fill his lungs and he rolled his tongue across his teeth, the parchment dry space of his mouth an uncomfortable sensation as he listened to Mercy talk. He wanted a drink and yet the very thought of having anything made him feel like his stomach would turn over on itself. There was little else he could do but sit and try to do as instructed.

“No,” he answered the question after a few moments of silence, his voice cracking when he chose to speak and he had to close his eyes for a moment to fight against the wave of sudden nausea that overcame him. “I-” he shivered again pulling his jacket tighter around his body “cold and sick.” Certainly not fit to stay here, eventually he opened his eyes looking tiredly at Freyja. “can we go home, please?”

Mercy frowned, unable to keep the concern from her expression. That nothing pained him was a small blessing at least. But the fact did nothing for the tight knot of fear that twisted in her gut. Or the helplessness she felt as Arthur shivered, his normally heated skin terrifyingly cold and pale. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him sick or hurt, but this was different. “Of course…” She took off her scarf and tucked it gently around his neck. “Of course we can go home.” 

As she buttoned his jacket so it wouldn’t slip loose, Mercy refused to think about what might happen if he had another episode like this. Or gods forbid… one that was worse. Instead, she turned all her attention to the here and now. To taking Arthur home and making him better. Everything else - the letter, Arthur’s marking, and the growing ache in Mercy’s arm - could wait.

~

[thetamrieliclibrary]

Pocket Guide to the Empire, First Edition: Skyrim

Skyrim, also known as the Old Kingdom or the Fatherland[1], was the first region of Tamriel settled by humans: the hardy, brave, warlike Nords, whose descendants still occupy this rugged land, and, although perhaps somewhat reduced from the legendary renown of their forebears of old, the Nords of the pure blood still unquestionably surpass the mixed races in all the manly virtues.

Exactly when the Nords first crossed the ice-choked Sea of Ghosts from Atmora, their original homeland, is uncertain. As recorded in the Song of Return, Ysgramor and his family first landed in Tamriel at Hsaarik Head, at the extreme northern tip of Skyrim's Broken Cape, fleeing civil war in Atmora (then rather warmer than at present, as it seems to have supported a substantial population). These first settlers named the land "Mereth", after the Elves that roamed the untamed wilderness which then covered the whole of Tamriel. For a time, relations between Men and Elves were harmonious, and the Nords throve in the new land, summoning more of their kin from the North to build the city of Saarthal, the site of which has recently been located by Imperial archaeologists in the vicinity of modern Winterhold. But the Elves saw that the vital young race would soon surpass their stagnant culture[2] if left unchecked, and fell upon the unsuspecting Nords in the infamous Night of Tears; Saarthal was burned, and only Ysgramor and two of his sons[3] fought free of the carnage and escaped to Atmora. The Elves, however, had reckoned without the indomitable spirit of the Nords. Gathering his legendary Five Hundred Companions (whose names are still recited every Thirteenth of Sun's Dawn at the Feast of the Dead in Windhelm), Ysgramor returned to Tamriel with a vengeance, driving the Elves out of Skyrim and laying the foundations of the first human Empire.

It may be that the exploits of the near-mythical Ysgramor conflate the reigns of several early Nord Kings, as the Elves were not finally driven from the present boundaries of Skyrim until the reign of King Harald, the thirteenth of Ysgramor's line, at the dawn of recorded history. King Harald is also remembered for being the first King to relinquish all holdings in Atmora; the Nords of Skyrim were now a separate people, whose faces were turned firmly toward their destiny, the conquest of the vast new land of Tamriel. Indeed, the history of the Nords is the history of humans in Tamriel; all the human races, with the exception of the Redguards, are descended from Nordic stock, although in some the ancient blood admittedly runs thin.

King Vrage the Gifted began the expansion that led to the First Empire of the Nords. Within a span of fifty years, Skyrim ruled all of northern Tamriel, including most of present-day High Rock, a deep stretch of the Nibenay Valley, and the whole of Morrowind. The Conquest of Morrowind was one of the epic clashes of the First Era, when ensued many a desperate contest between Nord and Dunmer in the hills and glades of that dire kingdom, still recalled by the songs of the minstrels in the alehouses of Skyrim. The system of succession in the First Empire is worthy of note, as it proved in the end to be the Empire's undoing. By the early years of the First Empire, Skyrim was already divided into Holds, then ruled by a patchwork of clan-heads, kings, and councils (or moots), all of which paid fealty to the King of Skyrim. During the exceptionally long reign of King Harald, who died at 108 years of age and outlived all but three of his sons, a Moot was created, made up of representatives from each Hold, to choose the next King from qualified members of the royal family. Over the years, the Moot became permanent and acquired an increasing amount of power; by the reign King Borgas, the last of the Ysgramor dynasty, the Moot had become partisan and ineffective. Upon the murder[4] of King Borgas by the Wild Hunt (See Aldmeri--Valenwood), the Moot's failure to appoint the obvious and capable Jarl Hanse of Winterhold sparked the disastrous Skyrim War of Succession, during which Skyrim lost control of its territories in High Rock, Morrowind, and Cyrodiil, never to regain them. The war was finally concluded in 1E420 with the Pact of Chieftains; henceforth, the Moot was convened only when a King died without direct heirs, and it has fulfilled this more limited role admirably. It has only been called upon three times in the intervening millennia, and the Skyrim succession has never again been disputed on the field of battle.

The lands of Skyrim is the most rugged on the continent, containing four of the five highest peaks in Tamriel (see Places of Note: Throat of the World). Only in the west do the mountains abate to the canyons and mesas of the Reach, by far the most cosmopolitan of the Holds of Skyrim, Nords of the pure blood holding only the barest majority according to the recent Imperial Census. The rest of Skyrim is a vertical world: the high ridges of the northwest-to-southeast slanting mountain ranges, cleft by deep, narrow valleys where most of the population resides. Along the sides of the river valleys, sturdy Nord farmers raise a wide variety of crops; wheat flourishes in the relatively temperate river bottoms, while only the snowberry bushes can survive in the high orchards near the treeline. The original Nord settlements were generally established on rocky crags overlooking a river valley; many of these villages still survive in the more isolated Holds, especially along the Morrowind frontier. In most of Skyrim, however, this defensive posture was deemed unnecessary by the mid-first era, and most cities and towns today lie on the valley floors, in some cases still overlooked by the picturesque ruins of the earlier settlement.

Nords are masters of wood and timber construction; many structures survive in use today that were built by the first settlers over 3,000 years ago. A fine example of Nord military engineering can be seen at Old Fort, one of the royal bastions constructed by the First Empire to guard its southern frontier. Towering walls of huge, irregular porphyry blocks fit together without seam or mortar, as if constructed by mythical Elhnofey rather than men.

The nine Holds present a varied aspect in people, government, and trade. The Reach could be mistaken for one of the petty kingdoms of High Rock; it is full of Bretons, Redguards, Cyrodiils, Elves of all stripes, and even a few misplaced khajiit. The northern and eastern Holds--Winterhold Hold, Eastmarch, The Rift, and the Pale, known collectively as the Old Holds--remain more isolated, by geography and choice, and the Nords there still hold true to the old ways. Outsiders are a rarity, usually a once-yearly visit from an itinerant peddler. The young men go out for weeks into the high peaks in the dead of winter, hunting the ice wraiths that give them claim to full status as citizens (a laughable practice that could serve as a model for the more "civilized" regions of the Empire). Here, too, the people still revere their hereditary leaders, while the other Holds have long been governed (after a fashion) by elected moots. It is fortunate for Skyrim and the Septim Empire that the people of the Old Holds have preserved the traditions of their forefathers. Skyrim has long been dormant, slumbering through the millennia while upstart conquerors bestrode the Arena of Tamriel. But now, a son of Skyrim[5] once again holds the world's destiny in his hands. If Skyrim is to wake, its rebirth will be led by these true Nords who remain its best hope for the future.

[TRAVELER: I found many of these mountain villages almost empty of young men, who have been seduced into joining Septim's army by promises of wealth and glory; the village elders see little hope of their sons ever returning.]

Snow Elves[6]

Nords attribute almost any misfortune or disaster to the machinations of the Falmer, or Snow Elves, be it crop failure, missing sheep, or a traveller lost crossing a high pass. These mythical beings are popularly believed to be the descendants of the original Elven population, and are said to reside in the remote mountain fastnesses that cover most of Skyrim. However, there is no tangible evidence that this Elven community survives outside the imaginations of superstitious villagers.

The Tongues

The Nords have long practiced a spiritual form of magic known as "The Way of the Voice", based largely on their veneration of the Wind as the personification of Kynareth. Nords consider themselves to be the children of the sky, and the breath and the voice of a Nord is his vital essence. Through the use of the Voice, the vital power of a Nord can be articulated into a Thu'um, or shout. Shouts can be used to sharpen blades or to strike enemies at a distance. Masters of the Voice are known as Tongues, and their power is legendary. They can call to specific people over hundreds of miles, and can move by casting a shout, appearing where it lands. The most powerful Tongues cannot speak without causing destruction. They must go gagged, and communicate through a sign language and through scribing runes.

In the days of the Conquest of Morrowind and the founding of the First Empire, the great Nord war chiefs--Derek the Tall, Jorg Helmbolg, Hoag Merkiller--were all Tongues. When they attacked a city, they needed no siege engines; the Tongues would form up in a wedge in front of the gatehouse, and draw a breath. When the leader let it out in a thu'um, the doors were blown in, and the axemen rushed into the city. Such were the men that forged the First Empire. But, alas for the Nords, one of the mightiest of all the Tongues, Jurgen Windcaller (or the Calm, as he is better known today), became converted to a pacifist creed that denounced use of the Voice for martial exploits. His philosophy prevailed, largely due to his unshakable mastery of the Voice--his victory was sealed in a legendary confrontation, where The Calm is said to have "swallowed the Shouts" of seventeen Tongues of the militant school for three days until his opponents all lay exhausted (and then became his disciples). Today, the most ancient and powerful of the Tongues live secluded on the highest peaks in contemplation, and have spoken once only in living memory, to announce the destiny of the young Tiber Septim (as recounted in Cyrodiil). In gratitude, the Emperor has recently endowed a new Imperial College of the Voice in Markarth[7], dedicated to returning the Way of the Voice to the ancient and honourable art of war. So it may be that the mighty deeds of the Nord heroes of old will soon be equalled or surpassed on the battlefields of the present day.

Places of Note

Haafingar (Solitude)

The home of the famous Bards' College, Haafingar is also one of Skyrim's chief ports, and ships from up and down the coast can be found at her crowded quays, loading umber and salted cod for the markets of Wayrest, West Anvil, and Senchal. Founded during Skyrim's long Alessian flirtation, the Bards' College continues to flaunt a heretical streak, and its students are famous carousers, fittingly enough for their chosen trade. Students yearly invade the marketplace for a week of revelry, the climax of which is the burning of "King Olaf" in effigy, possibly a now-forgotten contender in the War of Succession. Graduates have no trouble finding employment in noble households across Tamriel, including the restored Imperial Court in Cyrodiil, but many still choose to follow in the wandering footsteps of illustrious alumni such as Callisos and Morachellis.

Windhelm

Once the capital of the First Empire, the palace of the Ysgramor dynasty still dominates the centre of the Old City. Windhelm was sacked during the War of Succession, and again by the Akaviri army of Ada'Soon Dir-Kamal; the Palace of the Kings is one of the few First Empire buildings that remains. Today, Windhelm remains the only sizable city in the otherwise determinedly rural Hold of Eastmarch, and serves as a base for Imperial troops guarding the Dunmeth Pass into Morrowind.

Throat of the World

This is the highest mountain in Skyrim, and the highest in Tamriel aside from Vvardenfell in Morrowind. The Nords believe men were formed on this mountain when the sky breathed onto the land. Hence the Song of Return refers not only to Ysgramor's return to Tamriel after the destruction of Saarthal, but to the Nords' return to what they believe was their original homeland. Pilgrims travel from across Skyrim to climb the Seven Thousand Steps to High Hrothgar, where the most ancient and honoured Greybeards[8] dwell in absolute silence in their quest to become ever more attuned to the voice of the sky.

Annotations

Annotations by YR:

"Most of the Nords I met seemed amused by this 'Fatherland' nonsense ~ the war with the 'Aldmeri Dominion' was the furthest thing in their minds."

"!"

"Ysgramor's provocations and blasphemies have, of course, been long forgotten."

"Righteous slaying."

"A disputed claim."

"Uncle, I saw signs that might be Falmer boundary-runes, but nothing sure. If any survive, they are wary and withdrawn."

"Septim's new college is staffed by hacks and charlatans ~ the so-called Grand Master is said to have formerly earned his living as a street performer in Windhelm ~ the students are scions of the most obsequious Nord families, hoping to curry favour with Tiber Septim's New Order ~"

"~ At last, a few Men worthy of respect. I met with an ancient Greybeard who could actually converse with me almost as an equal ~ my only such experience among the humans so far ~"

~ Follow for more books, journals, and notes from the Elder Scrolls series ~ Updates daily ~

[madampince-rph]

everybody always makes alice longbottom in the same families: fortescue, selwyn, prewett. which do you think is best? or do you have better suggestion? thnx

Honestly I really don’t like Alice as a Prewett. It doesn’t make sense to me. I mean we know that Molly is really big on family, basically adopting Harry after five minutes conversation, so if Neville was a nephew or something like that don’t you think she’d have been part of his childhood? Even just a small part? Don’t you think the Weasley children would consider him family, even distant family, if he was a direct Prewett descendant? Making Alice a Prewett makes me uncomfortable, because if you project that lineage out to what we get in the books later it just doesn’t work. imo: bad idea, one of the worst.

Between Fortescue and Selwyn, I prefer Selwyn. We don’t get to really meet any Selwyns in the books – just one Death Eater who shows up briefly – but we have a nice little encounter with Florean Fortescue, and he seems like a friendly sort of guy. Someone who would likely have made at least a token effort to be involved in the childhood of a basically-orphaned little kid whom everyone thought was a Squib, if he had been part of Neville’s family. And while there is nothing in the books that says he and Neville weren’t family or friendly, the fact that Florean hangs out with Harry for a summer and doesn’t mention anything about Neville – a boy who is in not just the same year as Harry, but the same house – well, it just reads as off. Or that is it would read as off, if Neville was a relative of Florean, because that seems like the kind of thing that would have come up in conversation even if he and Neville weren’t personally close. But when Harry is summarizing his weeks in Diagon Alley, he doesn’t say “Florean Fortescue, Neville’s uncle who ran the ice cream parlor…” or anything like that, which leaves anyone trying to make that canon connection the responsibility of answering the question, why not? Why would Florean not introduce himself via Neville when he met Harry? Why would Harry not reference Florean’s connection to his housemate? I’m not saying you can’t make it work, that it’s impossible to come up with a way to make Alice a Fortescue without making later events in the books go wonky – but you definitely need to make that effort to craft that backstory.

Honestly having Alice be directly related to anyone we meet in the books who interacts with Harry in any sort of extended and friendly fashion doesn’t really work for me, because it feels awkward for them to never mention something about “oh you got to school with my nephew, Neville, he talks about you all the time!” or so on, you know? And again, it’s not impossible to do it and do it well, but it is something you have to tackle because when you’re writing a prequel (which is what Marauders Era stuff is if you think about it): you have to be very conscious of the canon that is going to come later and how what you’re writing now that’s new works alongside what was written previously about what is going to happen next. I think we’re all familiar with badly done prequel stories that don’t quite mesh with their later-slash-earlier installments, so I expect you get what I mean when I say that that kind of attention to detail matters!

(Also tbh most of the time when I see Alice linked to a family like that, one of the “nice ones” we meet, her background tends to read as pretty “Mary Sue-ish” anyway. You know what I mean: the sort of OC-insert character who ~conveniently~ has really close family ties to other characters we know and she’s suuuuuper important in their lives and oh-so-special and…basically it just makes you think of bad fanfics, right? The kind you write when you’re twelve and want to burn later? Maybe that’s just me idk, but any time I see the name “Alice Fortescue” I cringe because I think I know what’s coming, and sadly I’m usually right.)

Anyway, basically the thing that I think is important to keep in mind when crafting a backstory for Alice is what we learn about Neville’s upbringing: he was raised by his paternal grandmother. He had a family of busybody relatives who sent him lots of advice on what classes to take and who all thought he was a Squib when he was little and did awful things to try and get his magic to show itself (the doing of which seemed very casual, almost like he was an afterthought, as evinced by him being dropped out the window once when someone wanted desert). No one thought he was important or talented. His grandmother takes him to visit his parents in St. Mungo’s on holidays. She acts very familiar to her daughter-in-law (although admittedly she’s spent about fourteen years visiting her in the closed ward by then, so there’s no telling what their relationship was like back when Alice had her full faculties) and worn-out by it all, although still fiercely proud of her son’s talents (and later her grandson’s, at least once he finally “lives up to” what she wanted from him after the fighting against Voldemort starts).

From here on out this is admittedly all extrapolation, but going off of what we know: it has always seemed to me as though there are a lot of Longbottoms of Augusta’s generation or around that age but not a lot of younger ones, and Alice’s family doesn’t seem to be involved in things with Neville much at all. We know she’s a pure-blood, because Neville is, so it’s not a situation like with Lily – but we also know that the family line means a lot to most pure-blood families. So from that we can draw the assumption that for whatever reason, Alice’s son doesn’t matter much to her side of the family, even though one would think he ought to. Is that because she comes from a huge family, so the Squib-ish son of the girl who went mad and got locked up in St. Mungo’s isn’t someone they need to spend much thought on? Is that because she comes from a family that has almost died-out and there just aren’t many of them left to care about him? Is it because they don’t consider him part of “their” family as much as they do “a Longbottom” because the maternal line doesn’t matter to them as much? Is it because Alice herself had a falling-out with her family so they severed ties before Neville was born?Is it because her family and the Longbottoms just don’t get along (either for reasons that existed at the time Alice and Frank got married, which she did despite her family’s wishes, or for reasons that cropped-up later – perhaps over the side that Alice and Frank chose in the war, or perhaps they blame him for what happened to her, etc etc?) so they don’t want to have anything to do with the Longbottoms...who might not welcome them anyway even if they did?

The last option makes me like the Selwyn idea because we know the Selwyns are pure-bloods at least in part (from the fact that Umbridge claims their lineage when sporting Slytherin’s locket) and we know that at least one of them was a Death Eater. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean the whole family was a bunch of blood-supremacists of course, but it does give us more potential to play with than we get from the Fortescues or the Ollivanders (or the Prewetts), I believe. Giving Alice a family that is: a) majority pro-voldemort or b) mixed between pro-voldemort/pro-dumbledore or even c) majority pro-dumbledore but with a few outcast death eaters provides a much more interesting and idea-fertile background, I think, for both her and her son.

To that end I’m thinking that if you really want to tie Alice in with a family that has members we know well – maybe one that provides you with relatives who will also be played in your game without adding a bunch of OCs – you can always go with the Lestranges. That’s an idea that occurred to me recently that I really, really like. Make her a cousin or second-cousin or so forth to Rodolphus and Rabastan. Not a sister; if she was that closely related to them the dialogue we get between Bellatrix and Neville later gets awkward because there’s no way she wouldn’t introduce herself as his “auntie” to drive the spikes in deeper, not if they had that kind of connection – but some sort of relation, anyway. Then you get to add another layer of intensity to a bunch of canon things without having to actually twist canon at all:

Why did Voldemort pick the Potters and their half-blood son to go after first, before the pure-blood boy? Maybe it wasn’t just because he and Harry shared the same blood-status; maybe it was because the pure-blood was related to his most loyal servant so he figured he’d start with the stranger (either because he thought Harry would be easier to deal with, or because he trusted Bella and her boys to be quick to deal with the Longbottoms if they got troublesome in the meantime).

Why did the Lestranges go after the Longbottoms when they wanted information about Voldemort’s whereabouts? Maybe it wasn’t just because they were Aurors who knew Ministry secrets and were part of the Order; maybe it was because they were family. We know that Bellatrix is enthusiastic about the prospect of pruning traitors out of her family tree after all, an idea that she would probably extend to her relatives-by-marriage even if the Lestrange brothers didn’t share that fatal familial enthusiasm for themselves…although they probably do.

Why did the Lestranges torture the Longbottoms so much that they lost their minds permanently, when surely that meant going far beyond the point of their actually being able to get any answers from them? Maybe it wasn’t just because they got carried away and liked the fun of it so they kept going even when it wasn’t useful any more; maybe it was exacerbated by the fact that Alice and Frank were family and they needed to be punished for choosing the wrong side. Maybe it was personal.

If Alice was a Lestrange before her marriage, then tension between the Longbottoms and the Lestranges gets ratcheted-up about a thousand points in all areas, both regarding the things that happen in the books and their relationships before. It puts her in a position similar to Sirius and Andromeda, where the battle lines are drawn between the branches on her own family tree and she has to decide how far she is willing to go for what she believes in, even when she knows the person looking back at her out of that silver mask.

The First Wizarding War divided people against their own family and friends and too often we get mired in extreme black-and-white ideas of good and evil sides, forgetting that there are a lot more shades of gray (just ask Sirius). Since we know so little about Alice, she’s a perfect opportunity to explore that nuance and making her related to a few Death Eaters (of any family) is a great way to play around with that. Honestly I have like a hundred different ideas of things that could be done with such an Alice so if you want to build one and you’re drawing a blank please hit me up I will gladly gush to you!

tl;dr Alice Selwyn = yes, that’s interesting. Alice Fortescue = a whole lot of meh and a little awkward. Alice Prewett = please no that causes more problems than it does anything else. Also consider as an option: Alice Lestrange.

[inkribbon796]

The Heart and Soul of Egoton ch 1

Summary: Looking for clues, the heroes hold a meeting to trade information and meet a couple friendly faces they haven’t met in a while.

A/N: This is late. Usually I like to post stories on Friday but the characters didn’t want to cooperate with me. I’m hoping I can get on track for next week.

Chapter 1: Heroes are Fire Hazards

NEXT

It was around midday in the base the Heroes’ Coalition used as a safe house and an information hub. In the kitchen was the minor fiasco of three heroes trying to get coffee ready for a massive meeting because, by Roman’s own admission, the coffee he conjured up tended to tasted bland and watery. Only Remy had the ability to actually conjure up good coffee, but Logan wasn’t around to tell them he wasn’t fusing for the sake of coffee.

So the coffee fiasco continued. Virgil had two pots of coffee in his hands.

“Do you think this is a bit much?” Anxiety asked Eric. The three of them were running the coffee machine and were trying to keep several pots of coffee warm.

“Roman said there were going to be a lot of people there,” Eric told him, his tone a little shaky.

“Silver’s pals are all coming in,” Jack warned. “Mark might not take a coffee, but some of his friends will.” Jackieboy, trying not to spook Virgil or Eric by moving too quickly, zipped away with the coffee pots.

Then there was a loud thud, almost as if some heavy cabinet or a piano had been thrown against the wall. Several things in the room shook and Virgil looked around.

“W-What was th-at?” Eric stammered nervously.

“Dunna,” Jackie answered, “give me a sec.”

The speedster dashed off, clearly intending to search the base. Then he rushed back in with a giddy look in his eyes. “They’re back, come on, Eric you didn’t get to meet them last time.”

“Who?” Eric asked, Virgil nervously starting looking for the closest exit.

“Virge, come on, you’ll like them,” Jack turned to Virgil with that same smile. “Don’t worry about that noise, it was just one of the guys didn’t know we closed up some of the hanger bay and overshot a little bit.”

“Is anything damaged?” Virgil asked.

“Ehh, Marvin put out the fire, but other than that no,” Jackie admitted.

“The fire?” Eric asked.

“Like I said, it’s taken care of, an’ we used to get way worse back in the day. Why do ye think we don’t take the plane out every chance we get?” Jackie was suddenly too dismissive for Anxiety’s liking.

“I figured it was the price of plane fuel,” Virgil jabbed.

“Yeah, that too,” Jack admitted, “just come on. They’re some old Coalition guys that really were palling around with us back in the days.

“Yeah, fine,” Anxiety grumbled, and reluctantly followed Jackieboy and Eric out to what Logan had introduced to him as “the fire hazard everyone calls a garage”.

So Virgil had stayed away from the place, and walking in he could see some scorch marks in the wall of the large underground garage. Some looked old, others looked suspiciously recent. But two masked heroes were standing looking at a new-looking series of scorch marks. One with curly light brown hair, heavier set than his friend. His outfits consisted mostly of purples, with a cape. The second hero had a visor covering his eyes, his outfit mostly in reds and oranges. Both of them were taller than Virgil was.

Trying to hang behind the others, Virgil tried to use Jackie as a buffer. Not as a meat shield, because Jackie was much faster, but enough time to run with Eric.

“Heya, boys!” Jackie whistled and yelled out.

The two heroes turned and smiled at Jackieboy.

“Jackaboy,” the light brown, curly haired hero greeted with a warm smile.

“Hey, man,” Jackie zipped over and slammed his fists several times into the taller hero, small barriers meeting his fists every time he tried to hit him. “How’s it hanging yah big lug.”

The taller hero managed to grab Jack and throw himself into the hero with a visor. Jack screamed in shock and surprise, turning into water and Jack hit the ground. The hero reformed and looked over at the speedster. “Give me some warning.”

“Sorry, next time I’ll hit you faster,” he scoffed.

“Hey, asshat!” Silver called out and flew through the door, pushing Virgil and Eric aside. The two newer heroes heard the impact as Silver slammed into the still-masked hero. Silver still in his civilian clothes. “Where’ve you been?”

“Nowhere,” the bigger hero smiled at Mark, grabbing him and throwing him down at the ground. Mark had a giant grin as he slipped away and kneed his opponent in the side. Jack and the hero that had turned to water were starting to spar, Jack trying to actually get a hit on him before he turned into water.

Virgil leaned over to Eric, whispering quietly, “Do you know them?”

“Yeah, they’re some of the older Coalition guys,” Eric whispered back, “but they tend to do their, uh, own stuff with Silver these days.”

“Dog pile!” Ethan called over, still in his grey and blue costume as he ran in and jumped on Mark.

“Get off me,” Mark shouted, trying to throw Ethan back off.

“Come on,” Ethan cajoled, as he got both himself and Mark tackled to the ground.

“Ethan, get your hands off me,” Mark shouted.

“No,” Ethan jabbed back, but Mark was able to free himself, flying up in the air and out of reach. “Mark, you never let me love you.”

“That’s because you’re doing it to stir shit.” Mark ordered. “Don’t touch me.”

“Mark?” Virgil repeated.

“Hah!” Mark shouted in triumph. “I’d like to see you get me up here.”

The water-based hero threw a large glob of water at Mark, chuckling. It made the superhero drag his hand down his face to dry it. “Ugh, are you kidding me.”

“How you doing, big guy?” Bob, the curly haired hero, asked Mark.

“Oh, you know,” Mark shrugged, still floating out of reach. “Same old town, same ol’ Dark.”

“Didn’t you say you’d have his network dismantled in five years?” Wade, the water-based hero jabbed.

“Hey, turns out you can’t just try and dismantle a mob boss without fifteen vultures cropping up to clean the bones,” Mark defended. “I don’t see you guys sticking around to help.

“Hey, looks like you guys got some new kids,” Bob smiled over at Eric and Virgil. He walked over and extended out his hand. “Name’s Gatling.”

Eric nervously ducked behind Virgil, which the anxious hero finding that nerve-wracking and ironic.

“Anxiety,” Virgil took his hand. “What’s your power?”

“Impenetrable barriers,” Bob grinned.

“Why’s your name Gatling then?” Virgil asked. “Can you fire lasers?”

“Not even in the slightest,” he grinned. “But it keeps Dark’s chumps guessing.”

“Sounds neat,” Eric said, peeking out from behind Virgil.

“So who’s the proud dad?” Bob looked back at Silver.

“Iplier brought them in,” Mark floated a little bit closer.

Wade whistled, “What does this make? Ten?”

“Six, dude’s a good judge of character,” Mark corrected as he looked around. “Where’s Tyler?”

“He’ll swing by, but dude’s been busy,” Bob shrugged. “Said he’d be running late.”

“Probably won’t be the only one,” Mark dismissed. “When he comes in, he knows the way. Although he could be with two of the Sides’ group keeping up, Roman said they were going to keep watch over the city.”

“Is it Joan?” Virgil asked.

“No,” Mark answered. “”They’re with Roman and Patton. Don’t know where they are right now.”

“Okay,” Virgil admittedly felt a bit better knowing that Joan was going to be with them. He always felt better with Joan around, which was probably a residual effect of who Virgil was than Joan themselves. “Where’s the meeting?”

“You ever seen the storage closet, the room King’s usually in?” Mark told him.

Virgil shrugged.

“It’s got the hole in the wall near the top of the frame?” Mark clarified.

Virgil nodded, then asked, “Wait, who did that?”

The senior hero’s mouth formed a tight line, there was a certain guilty air about it. “Doesn’t matter. The meeting room is directly across the hall from it.”

“Geez,” Bob spoke up. “What else did you break?”

“Not my fault, I was taken over by zombism,” Silver defended hotly. “The fact I missed Jack is the good thing.”

“Doc give you your rabies shots for that?” Bob chuckled. “Please tell me you haven’t eaten the furniture.”

“It was bad,” Ethan spoke up, a huge smile on his face as Silver took a deep breath. “He had to get a lot of transfusions, they almost replaced all of his blood. We built a panic bunker to hold him until the infection ran its course.”

“Good to know the docs can cure a zombie plague,” Wade commented.

“They can now,” Mark clapped his hands to bring attention back to him. “Let’s go before they start without us.”

Gatling, and as he introduced himself to Eric and Virgil: the Drowned Man, kept ribbing at Silver. They did start to actually make their way to the meeting room. Virgil hanging in the back to avoid getting caught up the inevitable wrestling that tended to happen as Mark argued with his friends.

[sunshineandfangs]

Klarosummer - Yellowstone National Park || Ka Hānau Hou

@klarosummerbingo Technically bingo again

Warnings: I dabble with religion/mythology. It’s not really a main point or anything, but ideas expressed run contrary to some established beliefs.

October 5, 2084 was a Thursday and a perfectly ordinary day. On the warmer side perhaps at 76°F, but it was to be expected with the increasingly undeniable climate change.

Anyway, it was a normal, average day just like any other. People were born. People died. The rich got richer and the less powerful suffered for it. And through it all the Earth kept spinning and revolving, uncaring about any of it.

Then, quite without warning - despite teams of scientists and specialists and expensive equipment - a volcano erupted.

At 3:12 PM MDT, the world ended. Poetically with both a bang and whimper.

And, contrary to many people’s secret betting boards, neither Klaus nor Kol had anything to do with it.

---

Life was a wheel that was always turning, one cycle into the next and the next. Sometimes a spoke would catch and clash with another, sometimes one broke and fell out. But the wheel would keep turning. This was a lesson Caroline had always known. 

See, once ‘Caroline’ had been Sekhmet. Oya. Amaterasu. Yal-un Eke. Lalahon. Nantosuelta. Shapash. Chantico. Pele.

All different incarnations of fire and earth and ferocity.

In the way humans might change outfits, going through life from one fashion phase to another, deities changed identities. Myth, legend, and belief their constant companions, they shed one form for the next.

So, it was not odd at all that she had gone to sleep as Pele and woken as Caroline.

---

Caroline (as she now knew her name to be) could feel the thick, liquid heat of magma surrounding her form. Energy flowed through and around her as she floated in the primordial power of churning earth. But even without opening her eyes she knew this was not Kilauea, the volcano where her sister had slain her.

It was far larger, for one. For two, she could feel how it had lain quiet (though not dormant) for millennia. And now she could feel it stirring beneath her.

The deity opened her eyes, noting the shimmering paleness of her new form. Skin like pearlescent steam, hair like yellow tongues of fire. Eyes the blazing blue heat of the soul at her core.

As stone trembled and magma boiled, rising higher and higher, Caroline flew up with it. Returned to the world in an explosion of molten rock and billowing smoke.

---

Klaus contemplated the ashen landscape, wondering what his next move would be. Even for him, a thousand year old immortal, this particular change in circumstance threw him a bit. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago things had been going remarkably well.

His curse had been broken (though admittedly the hybrids were a bit of a sore point). All his family had been awake (debatably a good thing, if he was honest). Mikael had finally died by his hand (most certainly the highlight of the century). And Kol had recently been resurrected (and rightfully mocked for letting the likes of the infant Gilberts get one over on him). 

Yet here he now stood in the largely barren United States, once a world superpower, and now a mass graveyard. With those that remained struggling for survival.

It certainly hadn’t helped when the ashes dimmed the power of the sun, letting even those without daylight rings thrive at all hours. Of course their short-sighted recklessness had culled a large portion of the humans. Humans that had already rapidly dwindled with no easy access to other pools of them and a new atmosphere inhospitable to crops and livestock.

Considering he predated the era of modern conveniences and had the power of an Original Hybrid to his name, he was better off than most. But he couldn’t exactly conjure resources from nothing, and his attempts to source a boat - see if distance had lessened the fallout - had been met with little success.

His mind categorized his options and he settled on a plan, about to act on it when his thoughts were abruptly derailed. He blinked. Wondered if Original Hybrids could have hallucinations without the presence of 2,000 year old immortal warlocks or Hunter’s Curses. Perhaps, some chemical compound in the atmosphere could affect him?

He continued to stare.

For walking through the ash fields, with seemingly not a care in the world, was a young blonde woman. A woman alone and unwary would have been enough of an oddity in and of it self. However, the image was made all the more strange by her clothes. 

They were impossibly clean, not even his keen eyes could spot a speck of soot or dirt, no tears in the fabric, no stains of blood or sweat. And that was before he considered how terribly impractical they were. A short dress and loose chain jewelry, high heels and no bag of any kind to carry supplies. The only reasonable article of clothing was the leather jacket, but even that seemed to be a more fashionable cut than anything useful.

He was baffled, to say the least.

---

Caroline felt at home among the ashes and smoke and fire. The burn of sparks and chemicals swirling into her with each breath. Maneuvering in the odd clothing of the era was a bit annoying, but she thought it rather flattered her new figure. And it had been the first outfit she liked as she perused a venue, the humans having already fled from the destruction.

Frankly, it had been a long time since she had been awake in such a turbulent time. But they were always her favorites. Strife meant either unparalleled freedom with few worshipers or unparalleled power fueled by mortal desperation. At the moment, it seemed to be the former. And having awakened within the source of a cataclysm, she wasn’t exactly lacking in strength at the moment either.

She hummed to herself, feeling the gaze of a predator on her back. There had been several mortals she had felt obligated to educate since her awakening. Mainly opportunistic men who thought her vulnerable. Typical. Although others had simply been trying to survive, those she had sent on their way with a warning, and occasionally even a little bit of mystical aid if they managed to impress her.

This one wasn’t mortal though. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but it did increase the chances they wouldn’t bore her.

---

Alas, Klaus couldn’t conjure answers out of thin air either and he wasn’t one for self-denial, so, after a few moments thought, he decided to indulge his curiosity. She was almost certainly supernatural though so he would be employing some tact when he approached. 

Elijah would be shocked. (Offensive, really. He had tact!)

Blurring across the distance between the two of them, Klaus carefully halted several feet away, enough space to not be invading, but close enough to talk politely.

“Good evening. I must admit I find myself rather curious as to who you are, love.”

---

Caroline turned, head cocked as she took in the image of the man before her. She supposed he was handsome and the golden curls of his hair reminded her of the sun. He also got points for manners, regardless of whether it was an act or not. Though now that he was closer his intrigue was rather obvious to her.

She propped a hand on her hip, a little smirk curling across her lips as she raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t help but feel you mean what I am.”

A smirk of his own was reflected back at her. “Well, that would just be impertinent, wouldn’t it?”

An amused huff escaped her. She would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t also a bit interested. Mortals could be so tedious sometimes and she actually had no idea what he was either.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours?”

---

Author’s Note: I was thinking of Pele the Hawaiian volcano goddess, first when I wrote this so the title is “Rebirth/A New Birth” in Hawaiian. Yellowstone really only ties in because the supervolcano there basically ended the world. That counts right?

[loretranscripts]

Lore Episode 27: On the Farm (Transcript) - 8th February 2016

tw: murder, incest, abuse, gore

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

In 1943, Abraham Maslow gifted the world with his list of five core essentials that every human being has in common. Today, we call that chart “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs”, and it’s still a framework for how we understand and study much of human behaviour today. That list includes a few obvious entries, such as our psychological needs and our desires for love and affection. There are deeper concepts, too, like self-actualisation and esteem. They’re just as important, but a bit harder for many people to understand at first glance. But it’s the last item on the list that I want to focus on. It almost seems too obvious to be there, but at the same time, it has a bit of everything. It’s basic yet complex; it straddles the line, and maybe that’s why it’s so important to all of us. What is it? Safety. Humans like to feel safe. Our pursuit of safety is core to who we are as people. It’s not unique to humans, for sure – animals are very good at finding and building homes wherever they can, but it’s undeniable that safety drives a lot of our decisions, and rightly so. We deserve to feel safe – one could argue that it’s a subset of freedom. When we are fully in control of our own lives, a portion of that control will always be diverted towards safety. We find safety in many different places, though. We find it in a group of friends because, as every horror movie has taught us, there’s safety in numbers. We find it in places like our work or schools and religious buildings, although those are admittedly much less safe today than they were a generation ago. But it’s in our homes that we find the most safety. We nest there, in a sense – we build a cocoon around ourselves that protects us from the weather, from outsiders, and from harm. But tragically, sometimes that’s not enough. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

No one liked Andreas Gruber. They thought the old farmer was greedy, and the public perception of the man was that he was rude and cranky. He was an old, crusty farmer, and no one around him appreciated that very much. Gruber was 63 and his wife, Cäzilia, was 72. They lived on their farm, about 40 miles north of Munich, between the small, German towns of Ingolstadt and Schrobenhausen. It wasn’t their farm, though. No, it belonged to their daughter, 35-year-old Viktoria, who lived there on the farm with them, along with her two young children. Her daughter, Cäzilia, was seven, and Josef was two, and it was Josef’s birth that really got the neighbours talking. Viktoria’s husband, Karl, had left to serve in the First World War in 1914 while she was pregnant with their daughter. According to all reports, he died there in the trenches and never returned – so who fathered Josef? Local gossip, fuelled by a dislike of Andreas Gruber, claimed the boy was a product of incest between Viktoria and her father. The birth certificate, though, simply listed the initials “L.S.”, leaving the boy’s paternity a mystery to wonder and whisper over. The farm provided ample privacy from the gossip, though. It sat in a large clearing in the thick, German forest, close enough to nearby Kaifeck to be part of the village, yet far enough away to be outside the normal flow of life there – hinter, as the Germans would say. The farm was hinter, or behind the village of Kaifeck, so most called it Hinterkaifeck. They still interacted with the village, though. Young Cäzilia attended school six days a week there, the postman delivered mail to the farm regularly, and a local woman even lived with the Grubers as their maid. From everything I’ve read about the family, the seemed to be nothing more than ordinary. Sure, they were broken in certain ways – Viktoria’s lost husband, Andreas’ reputation as a greedy crank were hard to miss – but overall, they were just one more German farm family, doing their best to get by.

In the Autumn of 1921, the Gruber’s maid quit her job there on the farm. She claimed, of all things, that the farm was haunted. She’d heard noises when no one else should have been around; she noticed items that had been moved, items that no one else would admit to; she never felt alone. It took a while to find a replacement, and in the meantime, winter arrived. Life on the farm became more insular. There were no crops to tend to, so the Grubers cared for their animals and stayed warm. But little things were beginning to happen that caught their attention, things that shouldn’t be happening, and it made them wonder if maybe, just maybe, their old maid had been right. They began to hear those same noises in the attic. Andreas even found a newspaper in the house that he had no memory of buying. When he asked his wife and daughter, they were just as baffled. And then, one of the house keys went missing. It was unsettling to say the least. In late March of 1922, though, Andreas noticed the most unusual thing of all. He’d been outside the house to fetch something, perhaps firewood, or to check on the exterior of the house. The night before had given them another fresh layer of snow on the ground, so perhaps he needed to inspect the roof – we don’t really know. But as he walked from the house to the barn, Andreas claimed he saw footprints in the snow. They started at the edge of the forest and covered the distance between the trees and the house, ending there. Perhaps a traveller passed through in the night, maybe a local had been walking through the snow and gotten lost – it happened from time to time. But what was odd about the tracks was that they didn’t go back, they just… ended there. We know all of this because Gruber himself told some of the locals while he was in town that next day. He was clearly disturbed by the things he had seen, but none of his neighbours had experienced anything similar. And that was the last time anyone saw the old farmer alive.

The first clue that anything odd was going on, at least to the people of Kaifeck, was when little Cäzilia failed to show up for school on Saturday, April 1st. The next day, the entire family was absent from church where they attended – pardon the pun – religiously. Cäzilia missed school on Monday as well. Finally, when the postman arrived on Tuesday, he found Monday’s mail still on the porch where he left it. This drew his suspicion, and he mentioned it back in the village. The people there put the pieces together and decided that something had to be amiss, so later that day, a group of neighbours gathered together, and they quickly set off to visit the farm. You know how muffled and quiet it can get outside when there’s been a lot of snow, as if the sounds of the world around you have been muted and hushed? I imagine that those men were keenly aware of that unnatural silence, standing there outside the Gruber farmhouse that day. One of the men shouted out for Andreas, or anyone else in the house, to come out and speak with them. They just wanted to make sure everyone was safe and well, but no one answered – just more of that muted, snow-covered silence. Not giving up, one of the neighbours – a local man named Lorenz Schlittenbauer – led the group to the barn. It was daylight, so perhaps Andreas could be found working in there with the animals, but when they opened the door they were greeted by a grizzly sight. There, on the straw-covered flaw, lay the bloody bodies of Andreas, his wife and daughter, and young Cäzilia. It was clear that something horrible had happened to the family, and Schlittenbauer quickly walked from the barn to the house, which were connected by a door. Inside, he found more bloodshed. Maria Baumgartner, the new maid who had started work on the farm just the previous day, lay dead in her own bedroom. Little Josef, last to be found, had met the same fate. It was a scene of devastation and gore, and it left the men stunned. Within a matter of hours, investigators from Munich arrived to go over the scene and gather evidence. They wanted to piece together what had happened, to discover the story, to find clues that might point to the person, or people, responsible. What they did uncover, though, was far more disturbing than answers.

It appeared that each of the adults in the barn had been led there, one at a time. Whoever the killer had been, they had appeared to call each person into the barn alone, where they executed them with a farm tool known as a mattock, a sort of pickaxe used for cutting. Each blow to the head was powerful and deadly, and each victim most likely died instantly. The bodies inside the house had the same type of wounds: Maria and Josef were found in pools of their own blood, their skulls crushed by their attacker. As far as the police were concerned, whoever wielded the weapon knew how to use it, and they did so without hesitation. This was cold-blooded murder, without a doubt. The trouble was, the weapon seemed to be missing, it was just gone. Other aspects of the crime didn’t seem to line up with logic. For one, there seemed to be no motive behind the actions of the killer. It was known to a few in the village that, just weeks before, Viktoria had withdrawn all of her savings, borrowed more from her dead husband’s sister, and brought the cash home. She told people that she planned to invest in the farm. She even made a large 700-mark donation to the village church. All of the remaining money was still there in the house – the killer hadn’t taken it, nor had they taken any of the other valuables that filled the farmhouse. Nothing was stolen. Whoever had called the Grubers into the barn, whoever had swung the pickaxe and ended all of their lives, they weren’t interested in money. Another detail that seemed odd was the condition of the house and the farm. In most instances, a killer will flee the scene after the crime has been committed, but here, there were signs to the contrary. The animals in the barn appeared to have been fed and watered throughout the weekend, and not by an amateur, either. Whoever had tended them knew his way around a farm. Most disturbing of all, though, were the reports from neighbours that smoke had been seen rising from the chimney of the farmhouse all through the weekend. Food had been eaten, and one of the beds had even been slept in. It was hard to believe, but the facts didn’t lie. The Gruber family’s killer didn’t run; instead, he stayed in the house long after the bodies had turned cold, as if nothing had happened at all.

The question, of course, was a simple one: who could do such a thing? But this was 1922, CSI wasn’t a thing that existed yet, there was no DNA analysis available to the investigators. Even fingerprint identification was too young to have reached the farmlands of German Bavaria, but even if there had been better tools, there were other obstacles to uncovering the truth. The local men who initially stumbled across the bodies, led by Lorenz Schlittenbauer, had disturbed much of the crime scene. While the maid and young Josef had each been covered with cloth by the killer, the bodies in the barn had actually been stacked like lumber. On top of this macabre pile, the killer had placed an old door and then hay had been scattered over it in an attempt to hide it. So, when Schlittenbauer entered the barn with the others, he actually lifted the door and began to move the bodies, making a full and accurate investigation impossible. According to those who watched him, Schlittenbauer lifted and moved the corpses with no emotion or hesitation, as if the sight of it didn’t bother him at all – or, maybe, wasn’t new to him. And it was that, along with some other, subtle clues, that quickly moved him to the top of the list of suspects. Why would he do this, though? Well, he told one of the men that he moved the bodies because he was looking for his son. Think back for a moment. Remember the questionable parentage of young Josef, whose birth certificate simply listed one “L.S.” as the father? Numerous neighbour testimonies made it clear that Lorenz Schlittenbauer was L.S., and that went a long way to explaining why he led the men from the barn, into the house – he’d been looking for his son, Josef. But according to some of the men with him that day, the door between the barn and the kitchen had been locked. They knew that because Schlittenbauer pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, which was more than a little curious, seeing as how Gruber had mentioned in town that one of his house keys had gone missing. And one final bit: the family dog was seen by the postman on the day before, where he had been tied to a corner of the barn outside. When the men arrived on Tuesday, though, they found it in the barn, wounded but alive. When it saw Schlittenbauer, the animal barked uncontrollably.

All of the clues seemed odd and out of place; they make your mind perk up and feel like something deeper was going on, but at face value they prove nothing at all, and that’s the frustrating part. The dog might have just been barking because of the bodies. Schlittenbauer might have had a key simply because he was the Gruber’s closest neighbour. Like I said, these clues were subtle, and that’s why he was never formally charged with the crime. As for motive, some people believe that Viktoria had sued Lorenz for alimony, and the man had refused. Clearly, Viktoria needed money shortly before the murders, as her bank withdrawal suggested, but historians are doubtful. The most likely reality, they believe, is that Josef’s father was none other than his grandfather, Andreas, and the arrangement with Lorenz simply an effort to save face in the village. Alternative theories have been suggested. There are some that believe that Viktoria’s husband Karl did not, in fact, die during World War I. No body was ever recovered or sent home, and a friend of Karl’s even testified later to seeing him alive in the mid-20s. Some people wonder, could Karl have had a hand in the murders, perhaps out of anger toward Viktoria’s relationship with Schlittenbauer while he was away at war? I’ve even read another theory that claims that Andreas had been waiting for an important letter of some kind. I can’t find more than a mention of it, but what if the killer and the letter were connected? That might explain why he stayed in the house for days after the murders – he’d been waiting to intercept whatever the letter contained. One last thought: by all accounts, the killer had been in or around the Gruber home many times before the events of March 31st. The Gruber’s former maid had quit her job because she said she felt the place was haunted. There had been the unrecognised newspaper, the odd noises, missing keys… weeks and weeks of unusual activity that eventually led up to the day of the murders. The day, mind you, that the new maid started working there. Maria Baumgartner had been killed just hours after arriving for her first day on the job. It makes you wonder: did her arrival upset the plans of whoever it was who seemed to be stalking the Gruber family? Did she see him, and pay with her life?

Hinterkaifeck has the feel of a cabin in the woods, the centrepiece of many a horror film and novel – a place of retreat, far from the demands and prying eyes of the outside world, where we could go to get away; a place where we can find safety in the middle of an unsafe wilderness; a home away from home. We want to feel safe, and thankfully most of us do, but there’s just enough risk on the outsides of the bell-curve that we’re always left wondering, what if? And that’s how fear works, it sits in a dark corner at the edge of our minds and watches. We know it’s not going to step out into the light, but we can feel it glaring at us from the dark. I can’t help but wonder if the Grubers ever had that sensation during those last few months, if maybe there had been moments when Andreas just couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him. Did Viktoria have moments where she felt like she wasn’t alone? We’ll never know the answers to those questions, though. And one more tiny mystery: the physician who performed the autopsies on all six victims had their heads removed and sent to Munich for further study. Some reports claim that a clairvoyant was part of that research, but I can’t find proof of that. Their bodies were buried nearby in what is now modern-day Waidhofen, but their skulls remained in Munich and were eventually lost in the chaos of World War II. Today, the farm in the woods is little more than a memory. All that is left today is a small memorial, but over the year that followed the tragedy there, it stood empty like a crypt in the middle of that clearing in the forest – a constant reminder to the neighbours who passed by of all the people they lost and of the violence that had visited their small village, and maybe that’s why they finally tore it down in 1923. Maybe they couldn’t stand to look at it again. Maybe it needed upkeep that required going inside, but no one was willing to do that. Maybe they just wanted to move on and forget. Whatever the true reason was, it was only after the farm was torn down that the murder weapon was finally discovered. One of the men found it among the debris at the top of the pile, mixed in with items that had been in storage. It had been hidden inside the house all along, in the last place that anyone would look: the attic.

[Closing statements]

[whetstonefires]

fictober prompt #18:  “You should have seen it.”

“You should have seen it. Kurama. It was the most awesome…” Yusuke trailed off, a wide sloppy grin aimed toward the purple sky.

Kurama grimaced, and considered once again just knocking the young hotshot out. But no, there was no way to predict the drug interactions, and if it came down to it Yusuke’s prodigious will could make the difference in whether he survived.

“I did see it,” he reminded for the third time. Admittedly, from a safe enough distance that it had been mostly a lightshow, but it had been easy enough to discern the course of the fight from that.

He layered another Mazoku’s Burdock leaf dripping with mildly astringent disinfecting sap over the largest wound. He’d improved his supply of medicinal plants over the years until he was a veritable apothecary, but it was always easier to harm than heal, and he could only spare so much energy to growing anything, when he was all the guard Yusuke had, in the middle of this newly-burned great plain. “You won.”

“Aw, man, I did, didn’t I?” Yusuke chortled, and then regretted it. Kurama curled his hands and was grateful he didn’t have claws in this form, because it meant he could make full fists as he held back the urge to smack his friend, without paying for it. Also he could punch Yusuke if he lost that battle with himself. “I’m gonna hafta be king.”

Assuming he survived, yes. And that the fragile détente of the demon world hadn’t collapsed into all-out war. “Look on the bright side,” Kurama said, prodding the flesh just beyond the border of the largest wound, to see how much the ribs gave, and ignored Yusuke swearing at him. “With this level of political breakdown, you won’t have to deal with fussy administration details until at least halfway through your term. You’ll be too busy fighting.”

“Mm. Yeah, I guess. Can’t be harder than being grandad, right, I’ve got more brats complaining to me but these ones I can beat up if they don’t listen—fucking owch, what the hell man?”

“Yomi really did a number on you,” Kurama said.

“You should’ve seen the other guy.” Kurama had actually gotten a look at Yomi before his servants carried him off the field, limbs twisted, one horn entirely shattered and his aristocratic nose plastered flat in what he recognized as Yusuke’s signature last-ditch headbutt. The best you could say was that he had been breathing. He’d gone down fully forty seconds before Yusuke had, and been much worse-off.

If Yusuke lived, Yomi at least would honor the terms of tournament entry. He was honorable like that, nowadays, at least when it came to people he considered his equals. If Yusuke died, though, and Yomi in his fortress with its life-support tanks and expert healing staff survived…he would probably assert his rights as victor. And unlike Enki or any of the last six people to win the contest, Yomi’s policies would not be to the advantage of humanity.

Kurama had the horrible feeling Yomi had been waiting, as a courtesy to himself and Yusuke, for his mother and Keiko to be dead and the natural span of their human lives to play out. If Yomi conquered the human world, he’d probably take steps to set Yusuke’s family and Kuwabara’s and maybe even Shu-kun’s aside, where they wouldn’t be carelessly eaten. As a courtesy.

“I did,” he said.

“Listen,” Yusuke said, attempting confident reassurance. “Hiei’ll come around.”

“Mm.” Yusuke would always be the first person who had believed in Hiei, and offered him a place where he was accepted. Kurama would probably retain the uncertain dignity of oldest friend. And Yukina was still living her life among humans, and she would always be his sister.

Sixty years ago, last time they had come to a sticking place, that had been enough. But he had been at Mukuro’s side almost as long as he had known them, now, and Kurama didn’t know what Hiei would choose, if it came to war. He’d skipped two of the Tournaments, though at least one of those times he’d been unconscious from overtraining.

There were very few exceptions to the rule that the older people got, the more complicated. Hiei didn’t seem likely to be one of these.

“After this,” Kurama said, because it was better than if you live through this, “you need to accept some of those petitions to be your retainers.”

“Aw, Kurama,” Yusuke whined. He did seem to be getting more coherent, rather than less. Every second, danger retreated a fraction more. So long as no one staged an opportunistic ambush.

“You need someone looking after you, clearly.” And he did better when he had people—was stronger, braver, smarter for them than on his own, even if he wouldn’t acknowledge it himself because he liked to pretend to be a natural loner who made exceptions for people he particularly liked. “And even if I was prepared to do it on a permanent basis,” which he wasn’t, “I can’t be everywhere and I don’t have all skills. At least take on a personal medic.”

“M’not like that.”

Kurama flicked the side of Yusuke’s face with a fingernail. “I know you destroyed your ancestor’s nation and invented this tournament in part to get out of ruling anything, but you’ve won it now. It’s too late to opt out of lordship.” He knew what Yusuke was worried about. He’d had subordinates himself, once, and didn’t miss it, except in terms of convenience. “You don’t have to run it like Raizen did,” he pointed out, knowing the exaggerated feudal deference got on Yusuke’s nerves. “And you don’t have to run it like a gang, either.”

Maybe even now he didn’t know he was pretending. Yusuke had always been better with other people’s hearts than his own. “Just…make some friends. Let them back you up. That’s all it has to be.”

Even if Yomi respected Yusuke’s win, if he couldn’t pull a functioning administration together, the new institution of the Maou would collapse just as easily as Yomi, Mukuro, and Raizen’s old détente. The border guards had always been easily corrupted, and while many demons in the endless depths of Makai cared not a fig for the human world, there was something about the place that drew on the heart—or many things, depending on the demon. The warmth of yellow sunlight. The smell of simple, undemonic trees. The easy meat of human cities.

And there was no longer any force holding back the warlords of the Makai from expanding into that realm and making it their own.

For demons like Kurama and Yusuke, that world was home, the world where they had been born (Kurama twice), and the destruction of the Spirit World net that had made people of their power have to choose a single world to live in forever was a liberation from tyranny, and the freedom to indulge their whole natures. But it had consequences, ones Kurama had known about and chosen to ignore, when he told Kuwabara to cut the veil so that he and Hiei could chase Sensui down and avenge Yusuke’s death.

The Black Angel had in fact been dying, and Yusuke hadn’t stayed dead anyway. It would have been a much better vengeance, as it turned out, not to follow him, and let him spend his final days communing with demonkind and marinating in the knowledge of his failure to destroy his own kind. Kurama and his friends hadn’t known that, but they had known they were giving him exactly what he wanted, and that humans would die for it. They’d done it anyway.

Kurama had no idea how he’d ever convinced anyone he was levelheaded and made conservative decisions. Possibly via being the only friend who carried bandages.

“I can’t make a friend just because I want to!” Yusuke argued. He barely sounded loopy at all anymore. Kurama plastered a final watertight layer of leaves over the torso wounds and called it adequate. “Especially because they’d be useful, that’s messed up.”

Kurama supposed he saw the problem. Most of the friends Yusuke had who’d never been able to match him in a fight—like Kuwabara—had befriended him, through sheer tenacity. He considered the more brats complaining to me interpretation of kingship Yusuke had proposed. “Maybe think of it more like adoption?”

Yusuke’s children and grandchildren were uniformly tough as nails, though their personalities varied, but only one had cropped up with significant demon energy, and she hadn’t been growing at anything approaching Yusuke’s prodigious death-fueled rate. This had not notably affected Yusuke’s attachment.

Judgemental side-eye. “…I’m pretty sure you have a better idea than that of how human families work.”

Point to Yusuke. Now, to move him somewhere less exposed. Longer limbs would help. Kurama let his mouth twist, but put the twist in his energy that pushed his body into the shape his spirit still remembered as its own.

He was more powerful in this form, and had better senses, but it cost him in stamina so he’d been putting it off. Hauling Yusuke up across his back without aggravating the chest wound too badly was a challenge made easier though prehensile vines, which also let him keep his hands free.

“You can’t fight this war on your own,” he pointed out, as he set off for the cover of what remained of Boiling Blood Forest.

Fighting the Makai to protect humanity wasn’t supposed to be demons’ work. But it had to be. Even if Spirit World’s intentions had been trustworthy, which they weren’t even after considerable reforms, the only person the institution had remotely capable of standing up to fighters at Yomi’s level at all was Koenma. (Known to all but personal friends nowadays as just Enma. Kurama somehow qualified.) And although he’d grown considerably since stepping into his father’s role, he still couldn’t take demon lords on in close quarters, or many times in a row. He hadn’t even begun to replace the stored power he’d blown to salve Kurama’s conscience during the Sensui incident, and he’d been expecting to have hundreds of years more to re-entrench before the human world’s scheduled bout with obliteration.

Yusuke’s grin was obvious even though he couldn’t see him. “What, I’m not, I’ve got you.” Kurama intentionally jostled Yusuke on his next step. Yusuke didn’t complain. “Retainers, though?”

“You’re whining.”

“I’m sick. Mom used to let me complain when I was sick.”

Pointing out that Yusuke was nearly eighty didn’t seem likely to accomplish anything, and Kurama let the blatant emotional manipulation slide.

“You’re not sick, you got your rear end kicked. Somehow I don’t think Atsuko was so indulgent of that.”

“I dunno, it never came up. Except with the truck. She did yell at me for losing to a truck, but she didn’t think I could hear her.”

Kurama could easily see Yusuke’s mother shouting at her son’s corpse. In fact it was almost harder to imagine her refraining.

“Anyway,” said Yusuke. “I won.”

“Yes, I know,” Kurama drawled. “Your Majesty.”

They were barely halfway to the edge of the field of destruction when Kurama picked up a youki signature coming at them at ten times his top running speed. Powerful, or he wouldn’t even notice it; that also wasn’t one of his strengths. He spun. No sign. The air?

Yes. A blur, comet-colored, arrowing toward them. They’d been spotted. He crouched slightly, ready to dodge at the last moment, if necessary to avoid impact.

But the blur stopped dead a few feet in front of them, and after half a second Kurama recognized it as Jin, the wind-aligned demon shinobi from the Dark Tournament. Horn and fangs both noticeably larger than at their last meeting. That had been…at least thirty years ago, when the shinobi had left the Demon Embassy that had once been Genkai’s temple to go traveling across the sunlit world. It never ceased to amaze Kurama how fast some people grew, on that side.

He didn’t relax his guard, though he tried to modify his body language to be less aggressive. He suspected his ears were not cooperating. Kurama was the one who’d recruited Jin into Yomi’s elite guards sixty years ago specifically in the faith that he and his fellow Dark Tournament veterans would back Yusuke’s political play when it came down to it, but the tourney system was no longer fun and new, and even if Jin hadn’t stayed in Yomi’s service long, sixty years was a long time. And it was hard to have faith, today.

“Yusuke!” Jin exclaimed, focusing on the top half of a face peering over Kurama’s shoulder. “Not lookin’ so hot! Didja win?”

Yusuke tried to stretch up to hook his chin over Kurama’s shoulder, didn’t manage it, and just talked into the surface of his back. “Pfft. What do you think?”

“Hmm…” Jin bobbed in the air, ears twitching thoughtfully. “Well, Yomi might’ve killed ya while ya were down if he walked away, and his people might too, but they might’ve not. Specially if Kurama was here. How’d you get here before me?” he asked, acknowledging Kurama for the first time.

Kurama adjusted Yusuke in his vine-sling. “I didn’t get caught in the shockwave like the rest of you,” he murmured. He’d been the furthest back of everyone who’d stayed to watch the final match in person, and gone to ground several seconds before the burst of power that had scattered the other observers. Maybe age did bring with it a little bit of wisdom.

Jin laughed. “Yeah, I guess that would do it! The other guys’ll get here soon. Well, anybody who didn’t get crisped, but that was nobody I know. I’m just the fastest!”

“Hey.” Yusuke was apparently coping with the indignity of being strapped to Kurama’s back by ignoring it. Jin met his eyes over Kurama’s shoulder like there was nothing weird about this, which was a strain on his dignity. “I did win, for the record. Yomi was down and out when his people scraped him up, and I only went down after they showed up.” Kurama wasn’t sure where they’d been during the fight. He suspected use of protective force fields.

Yusuke continued to talk over his shoulder. The note of pain that had been working its way into his voice since Kurama propped him upright had gone. “So, Jin, I’m putting together a team. You want in?”

Jin’s ears pricked up, all his fangs showed, and he did a midair somersault and punched the air, creating an incidental vortex that sent up a plume of ash. “Yeah! I was getting’ worried you weren’t gonna ask!”

Kurama’s breath came out in a voiceless sigh, but he was smiling. Of course it would go like this. It was like he’d forgotten who Yusuke was, he’d been so busy worrying about what he needed to be. The set of people he’d already made a personal impression on wouldn’t necessarily include all the skills he’d need for whatever storm they were heading into, but once the team got started it would be easier to add people to it. Kurama should know; he and Hiei had technically been forced on Yusuke as a condition of parole.

He’d have to introduce his potential recruits in just the right way, which meant without too much attempt at subtlety. The vines flexed again as Yusuke tried to lever himself up against Kurama’s shoulders for a better view, disregarding the large hole in his chest. Kurama elbowed him vengefully in the thigh.

He glanced toward the forest. Getting to cover still seemed important, if not as urgent as it had before they secured some backup. He looked back toward Jin. “I don’t suppose anyone in the crowd you got flung back with is a competent medic.”

[thirstygirlclub]

Sweet Girl - 3

Chapter 3 – I'm going to f***** scream.

The relief I had felt when I saw that there was a small block of showers on the ferry was only mildly orgasmic. I used Clay's credit card to buy a bottle of 2 in 1 shampoo so I could wash my hair. When I dragged myself under the water I started to feel human again. I washed out all the bits of brain and skull out of the rats nest that I called my hair. I tried not to look at the drain where it was all being collected. I used every last drop of the shampoo to clean myself and as soon as the water ran clear, instead of being a murky brown colour, I stepped out to use the useless hair dryer.

"I thought you had washed down the drain," Jax said when I came out to meet him on the deck of the boat.

I laughed lightly as I threw away the t-shirt and bits of my friends' killer in a bin.

I was feeling slightly better by now. I tried to push the last 24 hours out of my memory but as hard as I did, I couldn't get her face out of my brain. Before I had found the showers, Jax and I had gone to the small clothing store looking for something for me to wear. I went for all black to blend in with my travelling companions, I had told him but I wore a lot of black anyway. He had convinced me to get a leather jacket too, an item that I had never owned in my life.

"No way," I argued with a laugh, "I'll look like such a try hard."

"Just buy the damn thing; you'll look badass. The rest of the girls wear them anyway. You're gonna fit right in."

I purposefully chose clothes that I never would have worn in England. I'm not going to be a business bitch in California, why try to dress like one? I'll have to admit, wearing flat shoes felt nice; I knew I could probably walk for hours in these boots. I was just in a plain black cropped tank top and high-waisted jeans. I was more comfortable in these clothes than in the pencil skirts and high heels but I don't think I looked as good.

"Best get back to Clay, he's tried ringing me about a million times."

Jax showed me his phone and saw that there were 3 missed calls.

When we approached the other men, Chibs let out a low whistle and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. I twirled around and posed dramatically. Clay held out his hand for the credit card.

I shook my head and took the card out of my pocket to put in his hands but then snatched it away. It was childish, admittedly, but did I regret it? Not at all.

"Come on gents," I said, "Does anyone fancy lunch?"

"Vivania," Clay warned in a low, warning voice.

"Are you seriously trying to parent me right now?"

He was getting angry but I was beginning to think that perhaps stealing his credit card wasn't the best idea but the humour in my cousins eyes told me to carry on.

"I'm not a child," I said, even though I knew full well I was acting like a spoilt teenager, "I bet they're hungry. I know I am."

"It's the least you could do Clay," Jax laughed, "you kind of owe her. Besides, my stomach has been growling all morning."

Clay sighed then walked towards me with a mildly defeated expression.

The cheerful and good humoured atmosphere didn't last long though. Mid way through our lunch, paid for by Clay before he snatched the credit card back, a news report came on.

"Police are still looking for Emilia D'Arcy after yesterday's shooting at the St. Trents School; a private school on the southern English coast," a news reader states as a photograph of me at my college graduation is shown on the screen, "all that is known about the incident is that it involved the Warrens; a notorious and violent American street gang based in California USA. There has been no official ransom notice or photographs. None of Miss D'Arcy's family have come forward as of yet… The weather in the north-"

I shrunk down in my seat as some people turned to eye us suspiciously.

"I think we should get back to the van, Jacky Boy." Chibs said quietly.

Jax nodded and tapped my shoulder before we stood up. I took one last gulp of my tea and followed them out.

"Who are the Warrens?" I asked Jax once we got back to the vehicle.

"A family, rival club. We did them a dirty deal and they took it… personally."

"And I come into it how? How did they find out who I was?"

"They're a family. Your stepdad is called Michael Warren, right?"

Fuck, was my first thought, fucking shit, was my second.

"He's from England. It's a coincidence, surely?"

I started putting things together in my head. It was like some sort weird montage.

All of those men coming into the house when I was a child in their leather vests; the angry phone calls he would make and then throw the phone.

"He is the leader?" I asked Clay.

"No, a brother; sent to run the British charter; Christopher Warren is the pres. of the mother club."

I looked at him just baffled with the whole situation. How had it turned so crazy so fast? The other day I was working towards my degree, my friend was still alive and I was in no known danger.

"I just-" I shrugged in disbelief.

"I'll explain it all when we get home Vivania," Clay said carefully, "but right now we need to stay under the radar. No leaving this van unless you need to piss, got it? Chibs, you and Hap are going with Viv if she needs to leave."

"Babysitters? Really? Are you kidding? I can look after myself."

"Aye," Chibs said and showed me his forearms, "you're scrappy alright."

"Shit," I gasped and gently touched the scratches I had evidently made when they pulled me out of my dorm.

"Scrappy ain't gonna save your life though."

"I am so sorry."

I looked back up to him with wide eyes. I didn't even know I had done it, I didn't know who was pulling me out of that dorm. He had been so kind to me; I felt bad.

"Don't worry about it, I've had worse."

I looked over the scars on his cheeks and frowned. I guess they had been through a lot more than what I had seen. I wondered suddenly how many people they had killed, or had seen die. How much blood had they spilled in the name of the Sons of Anarchy? I shuddered at the thought. I realised I was still staring at him and looked away with a flush on my cheeks. I was sat in a van with, what are essentially, 4 mass murderers. I shrunk back in my seat and stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the journey.

After what felt like weeks, we were back on solid ground and driving through Charming. I couldn't help but smile when I saw the old sign that hadn't changed since I left. To be honest, nothing had changed much. It was more built up than I remembered it being but my memories were so fuzzy it was like it happened to someone else.

"Welcome home, Pumpkin." Clay said with a smile as he pulled into the TM Motors lot.

Stepping out of the van into the hot California sun and onto the forecourt of the garage felt like a dream. My shoes scuffed against the rough ground as I looked around. The only things that had changed were the men walking around in the uniforms and the sign above the work area. Bikes lined the road leading into it and I couldn't help but be mesmerised by how they all shone in the sun. There were girls sitting on them talking to men that did that manly nod to Jax and Clay as we passed them.

"Is that her?!" I heard a voice shout over and whipped my head around to see a tall man with a beard and beanie on, despite the weather.

"Harry?!" I shouted, a look of delight lit up his face and he started walking towards me.

I jogged to him; as soon as we met he laughed and grabbed me into a bear hug, lifting me off my feet with ease. I hugged him back tightly as he spun me around.

"You were just a skinny kid," I said when he put me back on the floor, "what the fuck happened?"

"Same to you," he said and looked me up and down, not like he was checking me out, just like he couldn't believe that I was grown up, "I missed you, kid."

I nodded and held back tears as the others had caught up. There were lots of 'bro hugs' going on and I watched the exchanges with interest. I felt like such an outsider; something I hadn't felt since I started school before I got a name for myself with my… antics. More people were starting to gather around I was introduced to them all, the entire time I was looking for my aunt Gemma. I met with Mr. Winston, although he said to please call him Piney, and hugged him tenderly.

"I swear to god," I said quietly to Chibs after being introduced to Bobby Elvis, "if I hear one more ridiculous name, I'm going to fucking scream."

He chuckled beside me as a man with a Mohawk approached my nervously. He was so sweet looking that I could barely see him as a killer. He smiled at me and scratched the back of his head.

"Hey," he said, "I'm Juice."

"Oh my god." I sighed and heard Chibs laugh beside me.

"What?"

"Nothing," I shook my head, "it's nice to meet you."

Later on that evening I still hadn't seen Aunt Gemma and I was getting tense. I had been promised that I would see her at the "family dinner" which wasn't just Gemma, Clay, Jax and I; it was the whole club. I had met most of them already except for a few that were out on a "run". I said bye and see you later to the guys and Clay drove me to his and Gemma's place. It was the first time we had been alone since the school. I was nervous and tired but mostly hungry.

The smell of cooking hit me as soon as I walked in and my stomach growled.

"Vee!?"

I recognised the voice as soon as I heard it. When she came to the hallway where I was stood with my arms folded nervously. I had missed her so much.

"C'mere Baby," she said and I ran into her open arms.

She hadn't changed at all, not really. I hugged her so tightly that she had to tell me to loosen my grip. I apologised but didn't let go.

Back when I was a child, Aunt Gemma was one of the only sources of stability in my young life. She always had me over to her house to sleep if my mother was going particularly crazy; there was always a bed for me there. That's where I had been when I was taken away.

"It's ok, darlin'," she whispered into my hair, "you're safe here."

I nodded and pulled away. She cupped my face with her hands and kissed my forehead gently before taking my hand and leading me into the kitchen where I saw a couple of other women chopping up vegetables and working over pots. She introduced me to Luanne and Lila.

"Do you need me to help?" I asked after I had greeted them.

"Can you make any desserts?" Luanne asked, "I don't think I'm gonna have time."

"Yeah sure. What have you got?"

I spent the latter part of the afternoon helping the other ladies in the kitchen talking about my school life and the mischief I had got up to with Anya. They laughed when I told them about the different guys I had slept with and why I had broken up with them.

"He legitimately thought he was a werewolf!" I told them as they laughed, "He used to howl when he came and it was the funniest thing! I could never keep a straight face."

"Private school isn't quite all it looks on the TV, huh?" Aunt Gemma said before tasting my cake batter, "that's delicious, by the way."

I grinned, happy that I had impressed her.

Once everything was finished the others had started to arrive and my stomach started turning in knots when I heard their voices.

"Go and get cleaned up, hon; we'll see you in a minute." Gemma said.

After I had washed my hands I followed the cacophony of noise coming from where I guessed the dining room was. There was a huge table, lined with people. It was amazing. Jax had come over immediately with his son in his arms and his girlfriend by his side.

"Hi," she said with a welcoming smile, "I'm Tara. Jax has told me all about you; what he didn't Gemma did."

I laughed but wasn't embarrassed; they were some funny stories.

Gemma was at one end of the table while Clay was at the other end. Jax and Tara sat up near Clay with Opie and Chibs. There was only a couple of people I hadn't met, one of them was a handsome guy with amazing blue eyes and dark hair. He walked over to me, picked up my hand and kissed it. I laughed but felt myself blushing slightly.

"Hello beautiful lady," he said, "I'm Alexander Trager, but you can call me Tig."

"I'm Emi- I'm Vivania." using my real name will take some getting used too, "It's nice to meet you Tig."

"Down boy!" Chibs shouted over and threw a bread roll at the back of Tig's head.

The latter whipped around and went to throw it back but Gemma had barked at them to grow up. Immediately, they stopped and behaved themselves. I looked at her with an amused expression; impressed that she could get the big, bad biker guys to shut up and sit down. Gemma winked at me and patted the space next to her so I could sit down.

Dinner went by quite well, I chatted and was charismatic although I felt so nervous I thought I was going to faint. It came back to the realisation I had in the van. I was sat at a table full of killers but watching them interact and listening to them talking to each other made it hard to believe. Soon though, conversation had turned to the Warrens. I was listening really intently.

"So," Chibs said as he took a third slice of my chocolate cake, "what are we gonna do about those fuc- um… pricks?"

"We can't just go in guns blazing," Clay said with a casual sip of beer, "there'll be all sorts of complications with their allies. We've got to be careful."

"So undercut their business," I said and looked between them and all the other people around the table looked at me, "they supply guns too right?"

They nodded.

I said ,"okay, then take away their business. If they bought the guns from SOA to then sell onto other people then they could offer to cut out the middle man, sell them the product for cheaper therefore making the Warrens part of the deal obsolete. They could get the contacts from the Warrens system, which wouldn't be hard to do, if my stepdad's lack of computer knowledge was anything to go by, and contact them directly."

"Ok…" Clay nodded slowly, mulling over my idea, "and how do we get them to bite? They are gonna go to the Warrens if they are close enough."

"No offence," I said with a smile, "they're all criminals, just like you. If you guys were offered a new price, which your enemies weren't going to get, would you tell people about it? Unlikely. Getting them to take the offer is the hard part, find out what they like. Drugs, guns, girls? Whatever it is, deliver it to them, for free as a thank you, with some of your best men as guard dogs. You need to make it seem like you care about them; make them think you value their business.

"Once you've got them and their other clientele, the Warrens go out of business; they leave to find someone else to sell your guns too. You take their business, you take their land and you can expand not only the SOA but Teller-Morrow motors. You can raise your prices slowly until they are paying the same amount that they were paying the Warrens and your guys are rolling in the dough."

They were looking impressed with my idea and a warm feeling of pride was spreading through me.

"Baking and criminally minded," Tig said with a sly smile, "how are you still single?"

"Just lucky I guess," I shrugged, winking at him.

A discussion ensued about the new plan. I felt a warm hand on my arm and looked over to Gemma who was looking at me with a proud smile and nodding. They were talking about the Warren's buyers, who they were and what they liked. Clay tapped his beer bottle on the table silencing everybody.

"Ok, I know we're all excited, but let's talk about this more tomorrow in Church. Before we do anything, I want to run it by my daughter," he pointed at me with his bottle, "she'll be the brains behind the operation."

By then it was far too late, everyone that had brought their children had gone home along with some others. The only people left around the table were myself, Clay, Chibs, Jax and Tig just drinking and talking. It felt nice, honestly, normal. I felt almost at home. I could hear Gemma clattering around in the kitchen as she cleaned up and conversation had turned back to my time at the school. I poured myself some more wine as I answered their questions.

"So," Jax asked, "how many languages do you actually speak?"

"Like 4 fluently, not including English. I speak, Spanish, Russian, French and Italian. Oh and Latin but nobody knows what that actually sounds like so I don't really count it."

"Clever girl," Chibs said with a slight slur in his voice.

I shrugged again and drained the rest of the bottle of wine into my glass although I was feeling extremely drowsy. I wasn't even sure if I would be able to find the room that had been set up for me. I stood up, with my wine in hand, and announced that I was going to bed. I leant down and kissed Jax on the cheek before going to leave but I heard Tig go, 'Um, what about us?' so I turned and kissed the others to, saying goodnight as I went round the table.

"Good to have you back, Kid." Clay said seriously after I stood up back up from him.

I nodded silently and moved over to Chibs, placing my arm around his shoulders to pull him closer before planting a gentle kiss on his scarred cheek.

"Goodnight Chibs, thanks for coming to get me," I said to him as I stood back up.

"Don't worry about it," he said quietly, looking almost shy.

When I got to Tig I laughed; he had stood up with his arms open wide. I stepped close to him and hugged him, careful not to spill my wine. He kissed me hard on the lips.

"Goodnight Tigger." I laughed and stepped away.

I had stumbled up the stairs with my head spinning and vision blurry. I did find the bedroom eventually, thanks to Gemma coming out of her bedroom and pointed me in the right direction. I collapsed fully clothed on the bed and fell asleep straight away.

Sorry!: that was a bit more cheerful, wasn't it? Sorry for the late update, I was meaning for this to be up yesterday but it turned out to be a bit hectic for me on a personal level but hopefully you'll forgive me? I made this one at least 1000 words longer than my previous chapters. I just couldn't stop writing! I probably rambled a lot but I have set up the subplot that I'm hoping to carry on with during this story.

Thanks for all the lovely comments guys! I have really needed something positive to look at these past couple of days and I just kept rereading them. I know it sounds sad but this is the first ever thing I have ever put of mine anywhere for people to see and all your nice words mean a lot to me.

Enough rambling!

Thanks again,

Love, Doe xx

[aion-rsa]

Upcoming Must-See Movies in 2021

https://ift.tt/2LtrBLV

It’s 2021. Finally. If you’re reading this, it means you’ve hopefully gotten through the wreckage of last year unscathed and are ready for a brighter future. And if you’re also a movie lover, this certainly includes a trip (or 20) back to the cinemas. Although a month into the new year, and our hope for a better tomorrow has faded a bit–especially with new COVID variants spreading. Yet there is reason to remain warily optimistic. Yes, including about theaters

For nearly a year now cinemas have remained largely dormant, and given the already shuffling 2021 film calendar, that will continue for the foreseeable future. However, studios (with one notable exception) remain mostly committed to getting new films to the theater this year, and the current 2021 film slate gives reasons to be hopeful.

Indeed, 2021 promises many of the most anticipated films from last year, plus new surprises. From the superhero variety like Black Widow to the art house with Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch, 2021 could be a much needed respite. So below is just a sampling of what to expect from the year to come…

Judas and the Black Messiah

February 12

It’s kind of hard to wrap one’s head around the annual “Oscar race” in a year when little trophies don’t seem so damn important, but Warner Bros. feels strongly enough about this movie that it’s getting it into theaters and on HBO Max right in the thick of the pandemic-delayed awards season. And judging by the marketing, it’s bringing heat with it.

Shaka King directs and co-writes the story of Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya), who became the chairman of the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party in the late 1960s and was murdered in cold blood by police in 1969. LaKeith Stanfield plays William O’Neal, a petty criminal who agreed to help the FBI take Hampton down. This promises to be incendiary, relevant material — and it’s almost here.

Minari

February 12

Lee Isaac Chung directs Steven Yeun–now fully shaking off his years as Glenn on The Walking Dead–in this semi-autobiographical film about a South Korean family struggling to settle down in rural America in the 1980s. Premiering nearly a year ago at the Sundance Film Festival, where it won both the U.S. Dramatic Grand Jury Prize and the U.S. Dramatic Audience Award, Minari had a quick one-week virtual release in December, with a number of critics placing it on their Top 10 lists for 2020.

Its story of immigration and assimilation currently has a perfect 100 percent score on Rotten Tomatoes, with critics lauding its heart, grace, and sensitivity. A few of ours also considered it among 2020’s best.

Nomadland

February 19

Utilizing both actors and real people, director Chloé Zhao (The Rider, Marvel’s upcoming Eternals) chronicles the lives of America’s “forgotten people” as they travel the West searching for work, companionship and community. A brilliant Frances McDormand stars as Fern, a woman in her mid-60s who lost her husband, her house, and her entire previous existence when her town literally vanished following the closure of its sole factory.

Zhao’s film quietly flows from despair to optimism and back to despair again, the hardscrabble lives of its itinerant cast (many of them actual nomads) foregrounded against often stunning–if lonely–vistas of the vast, empty American countryside.

I Care a Lot

February 19

A solid cast, led by Rosamund Pike, Peter Dinklage, Chris Messina, and Dianne Wiest, star in this satirical crime drama from director J. Blakeson (The Disappearance of Alice Creed). Pike plays Marla, a con artist whose scam is getting herself named legal guardian of her elderly marks and then draining their assets while sticking them in nursing homes. She’s ruthless and efficient at it, until she meets a woman (Wiest) whose ties to a crime boss (Dinklage) may prove too much of a challenge for the wily Marla. It was one of our favorites out of Toronto last year.

The Father

February 26

Anthony Hopkins gives a mesmerizing, and deeply tragic, performance as Anthony, an elderly British man whose descent into dementia is reflected by the film itself, which plays with time, setting, and continuity until both Anthony and the viewer can no longer tell what is real and what is not. Olivia Colman is equally moving as his daughter, who wants to get on with her own life even as she watches her father’s disintegrate in front of her.

We saw The Father last year at the AFI Fest and it ended up being a favorite of 2020; Hopkins is unforgettable in this bracing, heartbreaking work, which is stunningly adapted by first-time director Florian Zeller from his own award-winning play.

Chaos Walking

March 5

This constantly postponed sci-fi project has become one of those “we’ll believe it when we see it” films until it actually comes out. Shot nearly three and a half years ago by director Doug Liman, Chaos Walking has undergone extensive reshoots and was at one point reportedly deemed unreleasable.

Based on the book The Knife of Letting Go, it places Tom Holland (Spider-Man: Far From Home) and Daisy Ridley (The Rise of Skywalker) on a distant planet where Ridley, the only woman, can hear the thoughts of all the men due to a mysterious force called the Noise.

Raya and the Last Dragon

March 5

Longtime Walt Disney Animation Studios head of story, Paul Briggs (Frozen), will make his directorial debut on this original Disney animated fantasy, which draws upon Eastern traditions to tell the tale of a young warrior who goes searching for the world’s last dragon in the mysterious land of Kumandra. Cassie Steele will voice Raya while Awkwafina (The Farewell) will portray Sisu the dragon.

Read more

Movies

How Raya and the Last Dragon Became the First Disney Movie Made at Home

By David Crow

Movies

Warner Bros. and HBO Max 2021 Film Slate Destroys Theatrical Window

By David Crow

Disney Animation has been nearly invincible in recent years with other hits like Moana and Zootopia, so watch for this one to be another major hit for the Mouse.

Coming 2 America

March 5

The notion of whether nostalgia-based properties are still viable has cropped up repeatedly in the last few years. However, streaming, which is where Coming 2 America finds itself headed post-COVID, makes golden oldies much safer. This sequel—based on a 32-year-old comedy that was one of Eddie Murphy’s most financially successful hits—sees Murphy back as Prince Akeem, of course, along with Arsenio Hall returning as his loyal friend Semmi.

The plot revolves around Akeem’s discovery, just as he is about to be crowned king, that he has a long-lost son living in the States (we’re not sure how that happened, but let’s just go with it). That, of course, necessitates another visit to our shores—that is, if Akeem and Semmi presumably don’t get stopped at the border. The film reunites Murphy with Dolemite is My Name director Craig Brewer, so perhaps they can make some cutting-edge social comedy out of this?

Godzilla vs. Kong

March 26

Here we are, at last at the big punch up between Godzilla and King Kong. They both wear a crown, but in the film that Warner Bros. and Legendary Pictures have been building toward since 2014, only one can walk away with the title of the king of all the monsters.

Admittedly, not everyone loved the last American Godzilla movie, Godzilla: King of the Monsters, but we sure did. Still, Godzilla vs. Kong should be a different animal with Adam Wingard (You’re Next, The Guest) taking over directorial duties. It also has a stacked cast with some familiar faces (Kyle Chandler, Millie Bobby Brown, and Ziyi Zhang) and plenty of new ones (Alexander Skarsgård, Eiza González, Danai Gurira, Lance Reddick, and more).

It’ll probably be better than the original, right? And hey with its HBO Max rollout, questions of a poor box office run sure are conveniently mooted!

Mortal Kombat

April 16

Not to be deterred by the relative failure of Sony’s Monster Hunter in theaters at the tail end of 2020, Warner Bros. is giving this venerable video game franchise another shot at live-action cinematic glory after two previous tries in the 1990s. Director Simon McQuoid makes his feature debut while the script comes from Dave Callaham (Wonder Woman 1984, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings) and the cast includes a number of actors you’ve seen in other films but can’t quite place.

The plot? Who knows! But we’re guessing it will feature gods, demons, and warriors battling for control of the 18 realms in various fighting tournaments. What else do you want?

Black Widow

May 7

Some would charitably say it arrives a decade late, but Black Widow is finally getting her own movie. This is fairly remarkable considering she became street pizza in Avengers: Endgame, but this movie fits snugly between the events of Captain America: Civil War and Avengers: Infinity War. It also promises to be the most pared down Marvel Studios movie since 2014’s Captain America: The Winter Soldier, and that’s a good thing.

In the film, Scarlett Johansson’s Natasha Romanoff is on the run after burning her bridges with the U.S. government and UN. This brings her back to the spy games she thought she’d escaped from her youth, and back in the orbit of her “sister” Yelena (Florence Pugh). Old wounds are ripped open, old Soviet foes, including David Harbour as the Red Guardian and Rachel Weisz as Nat and Yelena’s girlhood instructor, are revealed, and many a fight sequence with minimal CGI will be executed.

How’s that for a real start to Phase 4? Of course that’s still assuming this comes out before The Eternals after it was delayed, again, due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Those Who Wish Me Dead

May 14

Taylor Sheridan is among the best writers in moviemaking right now. Having all but cornered the niche around modern Westerns, he’s responsible for the scripts for Hell or High Water, both Sicarios, and Wind River, the latter of which he also directed. He’s back in the director’s chair again for Those Who Wish Me Dead, which has been described as a “female-driven neo-Western” set in the Montana wilderness. It is there a teenager witnesses a murder, and he finds himself on the run from twin assassins, and in need of protection from a likely paranoid survivalist. The film stars Angelina Jolie, Jon Bernthal, Nicholas Hoult, Tyler Perry, Aidan Gillen, Jake Weber, and Finn Little.

Spiral

May 21

Chris Rock has co-written the story for a new take on the Saw franchise. Never thought we’d write those words! The fact that it also stars Rock, as well as Samuel L. Jackson, is likewise head-turning. It looks like they’re going for legitimate horror with Darren Lynn Bousman attached to direct after helming three of the Saw sequels, and its grisly pre-COVID trailer from last year.

Hopefully this will be better than most of the franchise that came before, and given the heavily David Fincher-influenced tone of the first trailer, we’re willing to cross our fingers and play this game.

Free Guy

May 21

What would you do if you discovered that you were just a background character in an open world video game—and that the game was soon about to go offline? That’s the premise of this existential sci-fi comedy from director Shawn Levy, best known for the Night at the Museum series and as an executive producer and director on Stranger Things. Ryan Reynolds stars as Guy, a bank teller who discovers that his life is not what he thought it was, and in fact isn’t even real—or is it? We’ve seen a preview of footage, so we’d suggest you think Truman Show, if Truman was trapped in Grand Theft Auto.

F9

May 28

Just when you thought this never-say-die franchise had shown us everything it could possibly dream up, it ups the stakes one more time: the ninth entry in the Fast and Furious saga (excluding 2019’s Hobbs and Shaw) will reportedly take Dom Toretto (Vin Diesel) and his cohorts into space as they battle Dom’s long-lost brother Jakob (John Cena, making a long-overdue debut in this series). Michelle Rodriguez, Tyrese Gibson, Chris “Ludacris” Bridges, Jordana Brewster, Helen Mirren, and Charlize Theron all also return, as does director Justin Lin, who took a two-film break from his signature series. Expect to see the required physics-defying stunts, logic-defying action and even more talk about “family” than usual.

Cruella

May 28

Since Disney has already made an animated 101 Dalmatians in 1961 and a live-action remake in 1996, it is apparently time to tell the story again Maleficent-style. Hence we now focus on the viewpoint of iconic villainess Cruella de Vil, played this time by Emma Stone. She’s joined in the movie by Emma Thompson, Paul Walter Hauser, and Mark Strong, with direction handled by Craig Gillespie (sort of a step down from 2017’s I, Tonya, if you ask us).

The story has been updated to the 1970s, but Cruella–now a fashion designer–still covets the fur of dogs for her creations. This is a Mouse House joint, so don’t expect it to get too dark, and don’t be completely surprised if it ends up as a premium on Disney+ in lieu of its already delayed theatrical release.

Infinite

May 28

This sci-fi yarn from director Antoine Fuqua (The Equalizer) stars Mark Wahlberg as a man experiencing what he thinks are hallucinations, but which turn out to be memories from past lives. He soon learns that there is a secret society of people just like him, except that they have total recall of their past identities and have acted to change the course of history throughout the centuries.

Based on the novel The Reincarnationist Papers by D. Eric Maikranz, this was originally a post-Marvel vehicle for Chris Evans. He dropped out, and the combination of Fuqua and Wahlberg hints at something more action-oriented than the rather cerebral premise suggests. The film also stars Sophie Cookson, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Dylan O’Brien.

The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It

June 4

James Wan is already directing a new horror film this year so he’s stepping away from the directorial duties on the third film based on the paranormal investigations of Ed and Lorraine Warren (Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga). That task has fallen to Michael Chaves (The Curse of La Llorona), so expect plenty of the same Wan Universe touches: heavy atmosphere, superb use of sound, and shocking, eerie visuals.

Details are scarce, but the plot—like the other two Conjuring films—is taken from the true-life case of a man who went on trial for murder and said as his defense that he was possessed by a demon when he committed his crimes. That’s all we know for now, except that, intriguingly, Mitchell Hoog and Megan Ashley Brown have been cast as younger versions of the Warrens.

In the Heights

June 18

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first Broadway hit musical gets the big screen treatment (by way of HBO Max) from director Jon M. Chu (Crazy Rich Asians). Set in Washington Heights over the course of a three-day heat wave, the plot and ensemble cast carry echoes of both Rent and Do the Right Thing. While a success on the stage—if not quite the cultural phenomenon that Miranda’s next show, Hamilton—it remains to be seen whether In the Heights can strike a chord with streaming audiences.

Luca

June 18

Continuing its current run of all-new, non-sequel original films started in 2020 with Onward and Soul, Pixar will unveil Luca this summer. Directed by Enrico Casarosa–making his feature debut after 18 years with the animation powerhouse–the film tells the story of a friendship between a human being and a sea monster (disguised as another human child) on the Italian Riviera. That’s about all we have on it for now, except that the cast includes Drake Bell and John Ratzenberger.

Pixar’s recent track record has included masterpieces like Inside Out, solid sequels like Toy Story 4, and shakier propositions like The Incredibles 2, but we don’t have any indication yet of what to expect from Luca.

Venom: Let There Be Carnage

June 25

Can anyone honestly say that 2018’s Venom was a “good” movie? A batshit insane movie, yes, and perhaps even an entertaining one in its own nutty way, but good or not, it made nearly a billion bucks at the box office so here we are.

Tom Hardy will return to peel more scenery down with his teeth as both Eddie Brock and his fanged, towering alien symbiote while Woody Harrelson will fulfill his destiny and play Cletus Kasady, aka Carnage, the perfected hybrid of psychopathic serial killer and red pile of vicious alien goo. Let the carnage begin!

Top Gun: Maverick

July 2

It’s been 34 years since Tom Cruise first soared through the skies as hotshot pilot Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, and he’ll take to the air once more in a sequel that also features Val Kilmer, Jennifer Connelly, Miles Teller, Jon Hamm, and more. The flying and action sequences from director Joseph Kosinski (who worked with Cruise on Oblivion) will undoubtedly be first-rate, but the studio (Paramount) has to be nervous after seeing one nostalgia-based franchise after another (Blade Runner, Charlie’s Angels, Terminator, The Shining) crash and burn recently.

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

July 10

With Shang-Chi, Marvel Studios hopes to do for Asian culture what the company did with the groundbreaking Black Panther nearly three years ago: create another superhero epic with a non-white lead and a mythology steeped in a non-Western culture. Simu Liu stars in the title role as the “master of kung fu,” who must do battle with the nefarious Ten Rings organization and its leader, the Mandarin (the “real” one, not the imposter from Iron Man 3, played here by the legendary Tony Leung). Director Destin Daniel Cretton (Just Mercy) will open up a whole new corner of the Marvel Cinematic Universe with this story and character, whose origins stretch back to 1973.

The Forever Purge

July 9

One day nearly eight years ago, you went to see a low-budget dystopian sci-fi/horror flick called The Purge, and the next thing you know, it’s 2021 and you’re getting ready to see the fifth and allegedly final entry in the series (which has also spawned a TV show). Written by creator James DeMonaco and directed by Everardo Gout, the film will once again focus on the title event, an annual 12-hour national bacchanal in which all crime, even murder, is legal. How this ends the story, and where and when it falls into the context of the rest of the films, remains a secret for now. Filming was completed back in February 2020, with the film’s release delayed from last summer by the COVID-19 pandemic.

Space Jam: A New Legacy

July 16

There are two types of folks when it comes to the original Space Jam of 1996: those who were between the ages of three and 11 when it came out, and everyone else. In one camp it is an unsightly relic of ‘90s cross-promotional cheese; in the other, it’s a sports movie classic. Luckily for kids today, NBA star LeBron James was 11 for most of ’96, and he’s bringing back the hoops and the Looney Tunes in Space Jam: A New Legacy.

The film will be among the many Warner Bros. pics premieres on HBO Max and in theaters this year, and it will see King James share above-the-title credits with Bugs Bunny. All is as it should be.

The Tomorrow War

July 23

An original IP attempting to be a summer blockbuster? As we live and breathe. The Tomorrow War marks director Chris McKay’s first foray into live-action after helming The Lego Batman Movie. The film stars Chris Pratt as a soldier from the past who’s been “drafted by scientists” to the present in order to fight off an alien invasion overwhelming our future’s military. One might ask why said scientists didn’t use their fancy-schmancy time traveling shenanigans to warn about the impending aliens, but here we are.

Jungle Cruise

July 30

Disney dips into its theme park rides again as a source for a movie, hoping that the Pirates of the Caribbean lightning will strike once more. This time it’s the famous Adventureland riverboat ride, which is free enough of a real narrative that one has to wonder why some five screenwriters (at least) worked on the movie’s script.

Jaume Collet-Serra (The Shallows) directs stars Dwayne Johnson and Emily Blunt down this particular river, as they battle wild animals and a competing expedition in their search for a tree with miraculous healing powers. The comic chemistry between Johnson and Blunt is key here, especially if they really can mimic Bogie and Hepburn in the similarly plotted The African Queen. If they can sell that, Disney might just have a new water-based franchise to replace their sinking Pirates ship.

The Green Knight

July 30

David Lowery, the singular director behind A Ghost Story and The Old Man & the Gun, helmed a fantasy adaptation of the Arthurian legend of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. And his take on the material was apparently strong enough to entice A24 to produce it. Not much else is yet known about the film other than its cast, which includes Dev Patel, Alicia Vikander, Ralph Ineson, and Kate Dickie–and that it’s another casualty of COVID, with its 2020 release date being delayed last year. So this is one we’re definitely going to keep an eye on.

The Suicide Squad

August 6

Arguably the most high-profile of the WB films being transitioned to HBO Max, The Suicide Squad is James Gunn’s soft-reboot of the previous one-film franchise. It’s kind of funny WB went in that direction when the first movie generated more than $740 million, but when the reviews and word of mouth were that toxic… well, you get the guy who did Guardians of the Galaxy to fix things.

Read more

TV

Peacemaker: Suicide Squad Spinoff With John Cena Coming to HBO Max

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

The Suicide Squad Trailer Promises James Gunn’s “1970s War Movie”

By David Crow

Elements from the original movie are still here, most notably Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn and Viola Davis’ Amanda Waller, but the film promises to be weirder, meaner, and also sillier. The first points are proven by its expected R-rating, and the latter is underscored by its giant talking Great White Shark. Okay, we’ll bite.

Deep Water

August 13

Seedy erotic thrillers and neo noirs bathed in shadows and sex are largely considered a thing of the past—specifically 1980s and ‘90s Hollywood cinema. Maybe that’s why Deep Water hooked Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction, Indecent Proposal) to direct. The throwback is based on a 1957 novel by the legendary Patricia Highsmith (The Talented Mr. Ripley), and it pits a disenchanted married couple against each other, with the bored pair playing mind games that leave friends and acquaintances dead. That the couple in question is played by Ben Affleck and Ana de Armas, who’ve since become a real life item, will probably get plenty of attention close to release.

Respect

August 13

Respect is the long-awaited biopic of the legendary Aretha Franklin, with the Queen of Soul herself involved in its development for years until her death in August 2018. Authorized biopics always make one wonder how accurate the film will be, but then again, Aretha had nothing to be ashamed of. Hers was a life well-lived, her voice almost beyond human comprehension, and the only thing now is to see whether star Jennifer Hudson (Franklin’s personal choice) and director Liesl Tommy (making her feature debut) can do the Queen justice.

The King’s Man

August 20

This might be a weird thing to say: but has World War I ever seemed so stylish? It is with Matthew Vaughn at the helm.

An origin story of sorts for the organization that gave us Colin Firth and the umbrella, The King’s Man is a father and son yarn where Ralph Fiennes’ Duke of Oxford is reluctant about his son Conrad (Harris Dickinson) joining the war effort. But they’ll both be up to it as the Duke launches an intelligence gathering agency independent from any government. It also includes Gemma Arterton, Matthew Goode, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson as charter members.

Oh, and did we mention they fight Rasputin?

Candyman

August 27

In some ways it’s surprising that it’s taken this long—28 years, notwithstanding a couple of sequels—to seriously revisit the original Candyman. Director Bernard Rose’s original adaptation of the Clive Baker story, “The Forbidden,” is still relevant and effective today. Back then, the film touched on urban legends, poverty, and segregation: themes that are still ripe for exploration through a genre touchstone today.

After her breathtaking feature directorial debut, Little Woods, Nia DaCosta helmed this bloody reboot while working from a screenplay co-written by Jordan Peele (Get Out). That’s a powerful combination, even before news came down DaCosta was helming Captain Marvel 2. And with an actor on-the-cusp of mega-stardom, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, picking up Tony Todd’s gnarly hook, this is one to watch out for.

The Beatles: Get Back

August 27

Peter Jackson seems to enjoy making films about what inspired him in his youth: The Lord of the Rings, King Kong, his grandfather’s World War I service informing They Shall Not Grow Old. So perhaps it was inevitable he’d make a film about the greatest youth icon of his generation, the Beatles. In truth, The Beatles: Get Back is a challenge to a previous documentary named Let It Be, and the general pop culture image it painted.

That 1970 doc by Michael Lindsay-Hogg zeroed in on the band’s final released album, Let It Be (although it was recorded before Abbey Road). Now, using previously unseen footage, Jackson seeks to challenge the narrative that the album was created entirely from a place of animosity among the bandmates, or that the Beatles had long lost their camaraderie by the end of road. Embracing the original title of the album, “Get Back,” Jackson wants to get back to where he thinks the band’s image once belonged.

Resident Evil

September 3

Let’s try that again. As one of the most popular video game franchises of all-time, the original handful of Resident Evil games appeared ready made for adaptation. Visibly inspired by cult classic zombie movies from George Romero, Resident Evil once even had Romero attached. Instead we got the deafeningly dull Paul W.S. Anderson franchise starring Milla Jovovich. And those decade-spanning monstrosities lacked something any self-respecting zombie film needs: brains.

Now Resident Evil is back in a reboot helmed by writer-director Johannes Roberts. And he’s off to a promising start by apparently focusing on the plots of the first several video games in the series. The cast includes Hannah John-Kamen as Jill Valentine, Robbie Amell as Chris Redfield, Kaya Scodelario as Claire Redfield, Avan Jogia as Leon S. Kennedy, and Tom Hopper as Albert Wesker. So far so good. Fingers crossed.

A Quiet Place Part II

September 17

The sequel to one of 2018’s biggest surprises, A Quiet Place Part II comes with major expectations. And few may hold it to a higher standard than writer-director John Krasinski. Despite (spoiler) the death of his character in the first film, Krasinski returns behind the camera for the sequel after saying he wouldn’t. The story he came up with apparently was too good to pass up.

The film again stars Emily Blunt as the often silenced mother of a vulnerable family, which includes son Marcus (Noah Jupe) and deaf daughter Regan (Millicent Simmonds). However, now that they know how to kill the eagle-eared alien monsters who’ve taken over their planet, the cast has grown to include Cillian Murphy and Djimon Hounsou. While the film has been delayed due to the coronavirus outbreak, trust us that it’ll be worth the wait. Is it finally time for… resistance?

Death on the Nile

September 17

Murder on the Orient Express (2017) became a surprise hit for director and star Kenneth Branagh. Who knew that audiences would still be interested in an 83-year-old mystery novel about an eccentric Belgian detective with one hell of a mustache? Luckily, Agatha Christie featured Poirot in some 32 other novels, of which Death on the Nile is one of the most famous, so here we are.

Branagh once again directs and stars as Poirot, this time investigating a murder aboard a steamer sailing down Egypt’s famous river. The cast includes Gal Gadot, Armie Hammer, Letitia Wright, Tom Bateman, Ali Fazal, Annette Bening, Rose Leslie, and Russell Brand. Expect more lavish locales, scandalous revelations, the firing of a pistol or two, and, yes, more shots of that stunning Poirot facial hair.

The Many Saints of Newark

September 24

The idea of a prequel to anything always fills us with trepidation, and re-opening a nearly perfect property like The Sopranos makes the prospect even less appetizing. But Sopranos creator David Chase has apparently wanted to explore the back history of his iconic crime family for some time, and there certainly seems to be a rich tapestry of characters and events that have only been hinted at in the series.

Directed by series veteran Alan Taylor (Thor: The Dark World), The Many Saints of Newark stars Alessandro Nivola as Dickie Moltisanti (Christopher’s father), along with Jon Bernthal, Vera Farmiga, Corey Stoll, Ray Liotta, and others. But the most fascinating casting is that of Michael Gandolfini—James’ son—as the younger version of the character with which his late dad made pop culture history. For that alone, we’ll be there on opening night… even if that just means HBO Max!

Dune

October 1

Could third time be the charm for Frank Herbert’s complex novel of the far future, long acknowledged as one of the greatest—if most difficult to read—milestones in all of science fiction? David Lynch’s 1984 version was, to be charitable, an honorable mess, while the 2000 Sci-Fi Channel miniseries was decent and faithful, but limited in scope. Now director Denis Villeneuve (Blade Runner 2049, Arrival) is pulling out all the stops—even breaking the story into two movies to give the proper space.

Read more

Movies

Dune Trailer Breakdown and Analysis

By Mike Cecchini

Movies

What Alejandro Jodorowsky Thinks of the New Dune Trailer

By Mike Cecchini and 1 other

On the surface, the plot is simple: as galactic powers vie for control of the only planet that produces a substance capable of allowing interstellar flight, a young messiah emerges to lead that planet’s people to freedom. But this tale is dense with multiple layers of politics, metaphysics, mysticism, and hard science.

Villeneuve has assembled a jaw-dropping cast, including Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgård, Dave Bautista, Zendaya, Charlotte Rampling, Jason Momoa, and Javier Bardem, and if he pulls this off, just hand him every sci-fi novel ever written. Particularly, if relations between the director and WB remain strained…

No Time to Die

October 8

Nothing lasts forever, and the Daniel Craig era of James Bond is coming to an end… hopefully in 2021. In fact, delays notwithstanding, it’s a bit of a surprise Craig is getting an official swan song with this movie after the star said he’d rather “slash his wrists” before doing another one. Well, we’re glad he didn’t, just as we’re hopeful for his final installment in the tuxedo.

Director Cary Joji Fukunaga is a newcomer to the franchise, but that might be a good thing after how tired Spectre felt, and Fukunaga has done sterling work in the past on True Detective and Maniac. He also looks to bring the curtain down on the whole Craig oeuvre by picking up on the last movie’s lingering threads, such as 007 driving off into the sunset with Léa Seydoux’s Madeleine Swann, while introducing new ones that include Rami Malek as Bond villain Safin and Ana de Armas as new Bond girl Paloma. Yay for the Knives Out reunion!

Halloween Kills

October 15

2018’s outstanding reboot of the long-running horror franchise—which saw David Gordon Green (Stronger) direct Jamie Lee Curtis in a reprise of her most famous role—was a tremendous hit. So in classic Halloween fashion, two more sequels were put into production (the second, Halloween Ends, will be out in 2022… hopefully).

Read more

Movies

Halloween: A Legacy Unmasked

By David Crow

Movies

How Jason Blum Changed Horror Movies

By Rosie Fletcher

Curtis is back as Laurie Strode, along with Judy Greer as her daughter, Andi Matichak as her granddaughter, and Nick Castle sharing Michael Myers duties with James Jude Courtney. Kyle Richards and Charles Cyphers, meanwhile, will reprise their roles as Lindsey Wallace and former sheriff Leigh Brackett from the original 1978 Halloween (Anthony Michael Hall will play the adult version of Tommy Doyle). The plot remains a mystery, but we’re pretty sure it will involve yet another confrontation between Laurie and a rampaging Myers.

The Last Duel

October 15

What was once among the most anticipated films of 2020, The Last Duel is the historical epic prestige project marked by reunions: Ridley Scott returns to his passion for period drama and violence; Matt Damon and Ben Affleck work together for the first time in ages as both actors and writers; and the film also unites each with themes that were just as potent in the medieval world as today: One knight (Damon) in King Charles VI’s court accuses another who’s his best friend (Adam Driver) of raping his wife (Jodie Comer). Oh, and Affleck plays the King of France.

With obviously harrowing—and uncomfortable—themes that resonate today, The Last Duel is based on an actual trial by combat from the 14th century, and is a film Affleck and Damon co-wrote with Nicole Holofcener (Can You Ever Forgive Me?). It’s strong material, and could prove to be one of the year’s most riveting or misjudged films. Until then, it has our full attention.

Last Night in Soho

October 22

Fresh off the success of 2017’s Baby Driver (his biggest commercial hit to date), iconoclastic British director Edgar Wright returns with what is described as a psychological and possibly time-bending horror thriller set in London. Whether this features Wright’s trademark self-aware humor remains to be seen, but since the film is said to be inspired by dread-inducing genre classics like Repulsion and Don’t Look Now, he might be going for a different effect this time.

The cast, of course, is outstanding: upstarts Anya Taylor-Joy (Queen’s Gambit) and Thomasin McKenzie (Jojo Rabbit) will face off with Matt Smith (Doctor Who), and British legends Diana Rigg and Terence Stamp. And the truth is we’re never going to miss one of Wright’s movies. Taylor-Joy talked to us here about finding her 1960s lounge singer voice for the film.

Snake Eyes: G.I. Joe Origins

October 22

While the idea of a Hasbro Movie Universe seems to be kind of idling at the moment, corners of that hypothetical cinematic empire remain active. One such brand is G.I. Joe, which will launch its first spin-off in this origin story of one of the team’s most popular characters. Much of his early background remains mysterious, so there’s room to create a fairly original story while incorporating lore and characters already established in the G.I. Joe mythos.

Neither of the previous G.I. Joe features (The Rise of Cobra and Retaliation) have been much good, so we can probably expect the same level of quality from this one. Director Robert Schwentke (the last two Divergent movies) doesn’t inspire much excitement either. On the other hand, Henry Golding (Crazy Rich Asians) will star in the title role, and having Iko Uwais (The Raid) and Samara Weaving (Ready or Not) on board isn’t too bad either.

Antlers

October 29

Dramatic director Scott Cooper (Crazy Heart, Hostiles) is doing a horror movie. As we live and breathe. And he’s doing it with a huge boost of confidence from Guillermo del Toro, who has opted to produce the movie. Antlers is the tale of two adult brothers, one a teacher and the other a sheriff, getting wrapped up in a supernatural quagmire that involves a young student and a “dangerous secret.” And with a cast that includes Jesse Plemons, Keri Russell, and Graham Greene, we are very intrigued… even if we must wait once again due to a coronavirus delay.

Eternals

November 5

Based on a Marvel Comics series by the legendary Jack Kirby, the now long-forthcoming Eternals centers around an ancient race of powerful beings who must protect the Earth against their destructive counterparts (and genetic cousins), the Deviants. Director Chloe Zhao (fresh off the awards season buzzy Nomadland) takes her first swing at epic studio filmmaking, working with a cast that includes Angelina Jolie, Gemma Chan, Kit Harington, Salma Hayek, Richard Madden, Brian Tyree Henry, and more.

Read more

Movies

Upcoming Marvel Movies Release Dates: MCU Phase 4 Schedule, Cast, and Story Details

By Mike Cecchini and 1 other

Movies

The Incredible Hulk’s Diminished Legacy in the Marvel Cinematic Universe

By Gavin Jasper

In many ways, Eternals represents another huge creative risk for Marvel Studios: It’s a big, cosmic ensemble film introducing an ensemble that the vast majority of the public has never heard of. But then, it’s sort of in the same position as Guardians of the Galaxy from way back in 2014, and we all know what happened there.

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

November 11

With the 2016 Ghostbusters reboot criticized (fairly) for its lack of imagination and castigated (unfairly as hell) for its all-female ghost-hunting crew, director Jason Reitman–finally cashing in on the family name by returning to the brand his dad Ivan directed to glory in 1984–has crafted a direct sequel to the original films.

Set 30 years later, Afterlife follows a family who move to a small town only to discover that they have a long-secret connection to the OG Ghostbusters. Carrie Coon (The Leftovers), Finn Wolfhard (Stranger Things) and Paul Rudd (Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania) star alongside charter cast members Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson, Sigourney Weaver, Annie Potts, and, yes, Bill Murray.

King Richard

November 19

Will Smith’s King Richard promises to be a different kind of biographical film coming down the pipe. Rather than being told from the vantage of professional tennis playing stars Venus and Serena Williams, King Richard centers on their father and coach, Richard Williams. It’s an interesting choice to focus on the male father instead of the game-changing Black daughters, but we’ll see if there’s a strong creative reason for the approach soon enough. The film is directed by Reinaldo Marcus Green (Monsters and Men, Joe Bell).

Mission: Impossible 7

November 19

Once upon a time, the appeal of the Mission: Impossible movies was to see different directors offer their own take on Tom Cruise running through death-defying stunts. But then Christopher McQuarrie had to come along and make the best one in franchise history (twice). First there was Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation and then Mission: Impossible – Fallout. Now McQuarrie and company have set up their own separate quartet of films with recurring original characters like new franchise MVP Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) across four films.

Read more

Movies

Audio Surfaces of Tom Cruise Raging on the Set of Mission: Impossible 7

By Kirsten Howard

Movies

Mission: Impossible 7 – What’s Next for the Franchise?

By David Crow

Thus enters M:I7, the third McQuarrie joint in the series and first half of a pair of incoming sequels filmed together. The first-half of this two-parter sees the whole crew back together, including Cruise’s Ethan Hunt, Ilsa, Benji (Simon Pegg), Luther (Ving Rhames), and CIA Director Erika Sloane (Angela Bassett). They’re also being joined by Hayley Atwell and Pom Klementieff, but really we’re all just eager to see what kind of insane stunts they can do to top the HALO jump in the last one.

Nightmare Alley

December 3

Director Guillermo del Toro is finally back with a film which was originally intended for release in 2020. But like so many others, Nightmare Alley saw its production frozen due to the coronavirus. Del Toro’s first film since winning the Best Picture Oscar for The Shape of Water, Nightmare adapts William Lindsay Gresham’s novel of the same name. With a script by Kim Morgan and del Toro, it tracks a mid-20th century carny played by Bradley Cooper who is also a silver-tongued grifter. But his con meets its match (and is then outclassed) by his chance encounter with a psychiatrist (Cate Blanchett). They’ll make a hell of a team.

West Side Story

December 10

Steven Spielberg has just two remakes on his directorial resume: Always (1989) and War of the Worlds (2005). While the former is mostly forgotten and the latter was an adaptation of a story that has been filmed many times, his upcoming reimagining of West Side Story will undoubtedly be directly compared to Robert Wise’s iconic 1961 screen version of this classic musical.

A few numbers in previous films aside, Spielberg has never directed a full-blown musical before, let alone one associated with such powerhouse songs and dance numbers. His version, with a script by Tony Kushner, is said to stay closer to the original Broadway show than the 1961 film—but with its themes of love struggling to cross divides created by hate and bigotry, don’t be surprised if it’s just as hard-hitting in 2021. Certainly would’ve devastated last year….

Spider-Man 3

December 17

Sony has finally gotten to a “Spider-Man 3” again in their oft-rebooted franchise crown jewel (technically though this film is still untitled). That proved to be a stumbling block the first time it occurred with Tobey Maguire in the red and blues, but the company seems undaunted since Tom Holland’s third outing is expected to bring Maguire back—him and just about everyone else too.

Read more

Movies

Spider-Man 3: Charlie Cox Daredevil Return Would Redeem the Marvel Netflix Universe

By Joseph Baxter

Movies

Spider-Man 3 Adds Benedict Cumberbatch’s Doctor Strange

By Joseph Baxter

With a multiverse plot ripped straight from the arguably best Spidey movie ever, 2018’s Into the Spider-Verse, Holland’s third outing is bringing back Maguire, Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man, Alfred Molina as Doc Ock, Jamie Foxx as Electro (eh), and probably more. It’s a Spidey crossover extravaganza that’s only missing a Spider-Ham. But just you wait…

The Matrix 4

December 22

Rebooting or continuing The Matrix series has always been a tough proposition. While the original Matrix film is one of the landmark achievements in science fiction and early digital effects filmmaking in the 1990s, its sequels were… less celebrated. In fact, directors Lily and Lana Wachowski were publicly wary about the idea of ever going back to the series. And yet, here we are with Lana (alone) helming a project that’s been a longtime priority for Warner Bros.

Read more

Movies

The Matrix 4: Laurence Fishburne “Wasn’t Invited” to Reprise Morpheus Role

By John Saavedra

Movies

The Matrix 4 Already Happened: Revisiting The Matrix Online

By John Saavedra

The Matrix 4 also brings back Keanu Reeves, Carrie-Anne Moss, and Jada Pinkett Smith. This is curious since Reeves and Moss’ characters died at the end of the Matrix trilogy—and also because Laurence Fishburne’s Morpheus did not, yet he wasn’t asked back. We cannot say we’re thrilled about the prospect of more adventures in Zion after the disappointment of the first two sequels, but we’d be lying if we didn’t admit we’re still curious to see the story that brought Lana back to this future.

The French Dispatch

TBA

Wes Anderson has a new film coming out. Better still, it is another live-action film. While Anderson’s use of animation is singular, it’s been seven years since The Grand Budapest Hotel, which we maintain is one of the best movies of the last decade. Anderson  is working with Timothée Chalamet and Cristoph Waltz for the first time with this film, as well as several familiar faces including Saoirse Ronan, Willem Dafoe, Tilda Swinton, Léa Seydoux, Adrien Brody, Owen Wilson, Jason Schwartzman, and, of course, Bill Murray.

The French Dispatch is set deep in the 20th century during the peak of modern journalism, it brings to life a series of fictional stories in a fictional magazine, published in a fictional French city. We suspect though, if Anderson’s last two live-action movies are any indication, it’ll have more than fiction on its mind–especially since it’s inspired by actual New Yorker stories, and the journalists who wrote them! We missed it in 2020, so here’s hoping it really does go to print in 2021!

Other interesting movies that may come out in 2021 but do not yet have release dates: Next Goal Wins, Don’t Worry Darling, Blonde, The Northman, Resident Evil, Red Notice, Army of the Dead.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The post Upcoming Must-See Movies in 2021 appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3qz9uDe