#and she's putting them in the same boat she's making them equally responsible for anything that happens

[kayakima]

Why do you think Jean and Pieck work well as a couple? (srs)

I know you have a fic of it but I'm curious about your direct take.

Oooo I’m definitely not the first person who has said this but a lot of the appeal with Jean x Pieck lies with the post-canon potential between the two of them as opposed to scenes that you directly see in the manga/anime!

Jean and Pieck are both shown to be incredibly pragmatic, level-headed, and loyal characters, (where their loyalty primarily lies with people as opposed to the systems that brought them up. I.e. Pieck saying she doesn’t trust Marley but the people she’s fought with, and Jean telling Reiner that they’re no different from each other, so it’s wrong to judge their actions), and in their few short scenes together, it shows that they immediately read how the other works in a way that they can work together efficiently in a fight. They don’t hold anything against each other for past instances, because right off the bat they both understand that nothing is personal in war, and when they’re finally at a point in the narrative where it’s time to join up, they do so immediately without hesitation.

From a physical standpoint, Jean canonically likes girls with dark hair, and while that in and of itself isn’t enough to say “oh they’re canon because she has black hair”, it does lend to the idea that Pieck may have partially been designed to serve as a potential secondary love interest for Jean, considering that she was originally supposed to be a middle aged man. Even if that change wasn’t intended to open that door, their scene together on Eren’s Titan very clearly pushes a “hey guys this is also a new potential love interest situation so pay attention to these two!!!” Type of agenda that’s really common in this type of storytelling. Pieck herself is portrayed as being inseparable from Porco, who also has a fiery temperament and dirty-blonde hair, and while Porco and Pieck lack the absolutely absurd height difference between her and Jean, we still see her interactions with a male character that has similar traits with Jean. Once Porco dies, Pieck is clearly upset, but then chooses to push forward to fulfill her duty to her fellow warriors (who else in this story chose to follow through to make a difference to honor a comrade that was in one way or another killed because of Reiner???) they’re reflections of the same character traits in different bodies, and they mirror each other incredibly well when they barely even interact onscreen.

But in the parts where they DO interact, I can’t tell you how many shows and movies I’ve seen that have had two side characters that previously didn’t talk much suddenly wind up in a long fight sequence together, and more often than not, it does lead to a character change and emphasized romantic potential by the end of the story. Character blocking in scenes is incredibly important, and when two characters are placed together for a 4-5 minute scene of just the two of them, then the contrast of both their visuals and their personalities is much more noticeable. Then we get into the boat scene, where Pieck is the one to tease Jean about his hair, and he makes just as equally cheeky a response. I do think their time as ambassadors would put them in close quarters very often, and in real life, people fall for each other all the time when they’re together 24/7. I think it was intentional that Pieck was the one to start the banter with Jean to go back on my previous statements, and I think by the end of the story, that’s implied that there’s a good chance the two of them either currently have something going on, or that there’s something that will happen between them eventually. I also like the idea that since they met as adults, and with wildly different life experiences, they could have a lot to learn from each other without years of trauma and baggage that affects their relationship. They’re two entirely separate people that have the potential to become something completely new together as opposed to being together in the shadow of everything that happened to them when they were younger.

Also consider this: incredibly attractive and smug man meets even more attractive and smug woman. Then they have four kids.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 143 thoughts!

remember when tokyo blade was the longest most drawn out arc of oshi no ko. remember when that was our metric. i want to go back to those blissfully innocent days.

This chapter falls in line with a lot of other chunks of the Movie Arc where as a standalone tidbit of the story there are things about it that I like but taken in the greater context of everything around it, I have decidedly more mixed feelings on it. This is very much "chapter 123… 2!" with all that statement implies. If you liked 123, this will probably be like crack cocaine for you but if you were hoping for a more concrete resolution to what's going on with Aqua and Ruby then you're probably in the same boat as me in terms of coming away feeling frustrated.

Lacking resolution aside, I did really like a lot of what we got in this chapter, both in terms of the twins' relationship and as individual characterisation for them both. Immediately what stood out to me was Aqua's avoidant response to… well, basically everything Ruby says up to a point. It's funny to remember that he was the one who called Ai out on avoiding important conversations and yet here he is doing the very same thing. Like mother like son, huh?

Ruby's first line is also interesting. It definitely makes sense for her to fear a separation from Gorou given that it's basically happened twice now, but her specific fear that if she doesn't affirm his existence it will simply vanish implies a certain lack of security in his presence that I think is very interesting. We haven't really gotten enough time in Ruby's head for me to really dig into what that means for her, but I'm putting a pin in it nonetheless.

Aqua's response here also lines up with my prediction last chapter that we were heading for a rejection. Even if indirectly, he spends most of this chapter trying to turn Ruby away and shut her down without actually addressing her proposition, which I really don't blame him for lmao. Free my boy. Even when he does finally give Ruby an inch, so to speak, and start playacting as Gorou, it doesn't feel at all like a sincere moment of self expression. He's indulging her with a facsimile of their old dynamic, sure, but the actual words he's saying aren't particularly encouraging.

Of course, that's not how Ruby sees things. Or rather… That's not how Sarina sees things. She spends more or less this entire chapter with no stars in her eyes whatsoever. This makes a very interesting contrast with Aqua who, even in the moments that he identifies most strongly with his past self, never loses his stars. In this chapter, "Gorou Amamiya" is never anything more than an act for him but Ruby seems to have entirely returned to being Sarina, at least in this space.

Aqua snarks about her mental age not changing and I think this is truer then you might assume - I do think Ruby goes through a bit of a regression in this chapter and I mean this in an entirely value neutral sense. If you've ever returned to a place or people that defined a certain period of your life, it's very easy to find yourself slipping back into the mindset and behaviours that characterized you at that time. The quickest and easiest example of this is probably a person who lives on their own going back to their childhood home to spend the holidays with their siblings and parents. For better or worse, a return to old dynamics means a return to that old headspace - and that's just for regular people without any reincarnation baggage in the mix.

Ruby's experiences as Sarina have always been extremely foundational to her as a person and at least as of the private audition, she is characterized as seeing herself equally as both girls. So in a situation like this where she's finally getting to see and talk to Gorou again, it makes sense for "Sarina" to have taken the lead here.

As I've talked about before, this difference in how they individually view their reincarnation and how it affects their sense of self is always something that's had the potential to cause friction between the twins and we see it here, I think. The two of them aren't quite on the same page.

That said, this is a sweet conversation. It touches on the unique position the twins are in to give each other closure in a way nobody else really can. That said, it does feel really weird that this talk just… never happened before? I guess you could argue that this is a make or break point for their relationship and it took them being really pushed to have this honest of a talk but even then, I can't think of any real reason it didn't come sooner other than "the author didn't want it to happen yet".

i do have to ask though. where did aqua get those glasses. has he been wearing contacts this entire series and we never knew??

The question of to what degree the twins should be considered the people they were before their reincarnation has been a pretty consistent subject of debate in the fandom, particularly as pertains to Aqua. Wherever you stand on the issue though, I think Aqua is right when he says the Gorou Sarina wants him to be is a person who no longer exists. Too much time has passed and way too much has happened. Even removing reincarnation from the equation, there's not a person on this earth who's the exact same as they were 20 years ago. Living changes you just as much as dying does. Even if some intrinsic, unchanging core still exists, his experiences as Aqua Hoshino have changed him way too much for the "Gorou Amamiya" Ruby wants to see to be anything more than a performance.

more absolutely goated expression work from Mengo, btw: that wonky, rueful smile when Aqua first takes off Gorou's glasses. Sooooo good.

It's also just so so good to finally get some insight into what's going on with Aqua after he's been out of focus for so long. It's also really fantastic to finally see him let his walls down a bit and admit to some of the turmoil rolling around in his head. I think this is part of why we see him slip back into a single white hoshigan here; while the stuff he's saying here is concerning, it's honest. Possibly the most honest Aqua has been for a good long while and him finally letting himself be vulnerable with someone he trusts could be a really good positive step for him.

I say could be because… well, I don't think Ruby quite has a handle on how to help Aqua here. She's not even thinking of helping Aqua after all; she addresses him (in the Japanese text) as 'sensei' over and over to an almost excessive degree. Not only that but her responses to him are a little…

The core of this talk between Aqua and Ruby is the idea that Gorou-as-Aqua has changed in a way that leaves him unable to perform the role he once played in her life, while Ruby argues that nothing has changed. And like… to a degree, both of them are right and wrong. Gorou's core values are something Aqua inherited from him and they continue to drive him. But it simply isn't true that nothing has changed. Like I said up above: twenty entire years of living changes a person even before you factor in the trauma of Ai's death and everything Aqua has done to himself and other people in the name of avenging her. But this is something Ruby is unwilling or unable to see.

More great paneling work from Mengo: When Sarina hesitantly asks if 'Sensei' likes her, there is a very pointed beat panel of Aqua's face with his eyes hidden before he pops the Gorou act back on and goes 'uhhh yeah sure'. Once again, we see 'Gorou Amamiya' as avoidance and insincerity at least in the context of this chapter. It's an act Aqua is half-heartedly putting on but to Ruby-as-Sarina, this is the miracle of their reunion happening again before her eyes. And if they're 'Gorou' and 'Sarina' right now, what happens next shouldn't be a surprise.

And… this is the part of the chapter where I stop having nice things to say. Because believe it or not, I don't mind the kiss and I think in the context of this chapter, it makes a lot of sense and it helps to have had the story finally, explicitly lay down that this is 'Sarina' pursuing 'Gorou', at least from Ruby's POV. I also really liked the framing; that clashing of tones returns again, with the double spread shoujo looking kiss ruined by Aqua's pin-eyed look of alarm and dismay. This is the moment of tension breaking transgression the series has been building up to for over 140 chapters…

And we immediately cut away from addressing it. For at least one more week. I'm going to be really honest… this fucking infuriated me! It feels like an implicit admission that this is going to be needlessly dragged out even longer even though we finally had the perfect opportunity to properly address and solidify what is even going on with Aqua and Ruby right now. It feels like cynical reaction bait. It feels like a roided up version of 123 - throwing AquRuby shippers scraps so they'll keep reading while also avoiding undeniably canonizing an incest ship to not scare off the wider audience. My man has created the Schroedinger's Cat of incest. Is the guy in the box nailing his sister or not? Well gosh, you'd better tune in next week and maybe you'll find out!!!!

In short, the lack of resolution just sucks and the fact that it really seems like we're just leaving things there and moving on to something else makes me want to scream. The Movie Arc has been such an unfocused mess for so many chapters now and this really just takes the cake. Like… remember when this was supposed to be about Ai? Remember when this was supposed to be about finally digging into her past and her private life? If half the stuff in the script is just made up then why am I even supposed to get invested in what's going on in the movie in the first place?

At this point, I just desperately want this arc to be done so we can move on. Say what you will about Tokyo Blade's pacing, but at least that was focused and cohered with itself on a week to week basis. The Movie Arc by contrast feels so far removed from any of the ideas we started with that I have no clue what to expect or anticipate from it going forwards or if I should even bother to try.

[thestobingirlie]

do you think jonathan and nancy were equal trainwrecks in st3? you've spoken really well about how nancy bulldozed over him a lot, ignoring the dark room rules and continuing with the investigation even when he said it was a bad idea, and of course after they're fired she shows 0 sympathy for what it means for him financially, but i've always thought if nancy was bulldozer then jonathan was just a doormat, and kind of a two-faced one at that

before they fell into the investigation, he did ignore the sexism nancy faced. the support he offered was passive "they're assholes, but you'll win them over some day", when later during their argument he said she was naive for caring what they thought and thinking she could be a star reporter. when nancy says the whole summer had been humiliating, he likens it all to them being interns, when he was actually treated really well at the job. he's obviously faced shitty treatment in the past from his father, and probably at school and around town, but at the paper he was left alone to do the work he was hired (and interested) in doing, and then didn't have any focus on him when they were being yelled at, even though from the newspaper's perspective he did the exact same amount of bad as nancy (or more, considering nancy was laughed off of any other responsibilities than fetching food; jonathan was treated as an actual employee with a work station he abandoned)

it sucks that only jonathan apologized (though only for not believing in nancy, instead of also entirely blaming her for choices he also made), not just because nancy also fucked up but because it's just more of the same of jonathan not actually being honest with nancy and shows how their characters just don't help each other grow or develop

oh 100%. neither jonathan or nancy are good in their relationship in s3, which i think is what really turned me off to them together.

jonathan is absolutely a doormat. i think it comes from his years of parentification. he doesn’t stand up for himself until he’s finally pushed to the edge. which in s3 happens when they get fired, and he unleashes what he’s likely been feeling and thinking this entire time.

he whines about nancy coming in the dark room, but doesn’t actually try to stop her. he tries to cheer nancy up about how she’s treated, but doesn’t actually do anything to stop it, or make her situation better because he’s too scared to rock the boat. he didn’t want to go along with her rat plan, but did anyway!

he’s just really terrible at standing up for himself, which is a major issue when in a relationship with someone like nancy, who does what she’s set her sights on and doesn’t really listen to other people.

and when it comes to the sexism, i think, like nancy when it comes to the byers poverty, he has a hard time recognising what he’s never experienced.

i think it also might come from this aspect of jonathan’s character that’s been present since s1, which is that he doesn’t really recognise ‘normal’ issues. this is hard to put on paper, but basically we see that he doesn’t take nancy seriously, he thinks she’s just like everyone else, who has the same issues with her parents that everyone else does and she’ll eventually fall into the same miserable dynamics.

i think this comes from the way jonathan retreats from society and casts himself as a loner. he can’t fit in, so he has to dismiss everyone else, and he can’t take them or their trauma seriously. because that kind of means acknowledging them as people in a way he doesn’t want to do.

think back to s2, the way he comforts will is that nobody likes boring people, and that sticking out and being different is the only way to be cool and loved.

i think jonathan just can’t really comprehend nancy struggling because in his eyes, she has it all. she’s got the house, she’s got the dad making six figures, her parents are together. when she complains, i think he sometimes gets stuck thinking about how much she has, instead of what she’s still missing.

i hope i worded that right? it’s kinda jumbled in my head. i don’t think jonathan necessarily thinks his trauma makes him special, but i think he struggles to look past his trauma when considering how other people struggle.

my biggest issue with how rushed their apologies were, isn’t just that nancy doesn’t take back the oliver twist comment, but because we don’t actually get that chance for jonathan and nancy to truly talk about what happened, and their issues, and how their relationship falls apart the second they experience conflict. obviously people say, “oh they’re about to be attacked, of course it was quick”. but, the duffers could’ve had them had a conversation whenever. they go back to hopper’s cabin and spend all night here! they couldn’t have had a talk when everything calmed down?

in my opinion, jonathan and nancy are just two people that, because of their trauma and the way they approach relationships, shouldn’t be together. until they truly work through all their issues and develop as characters, they won’t have a healthy relationship. and that’s because of both of them, not just nancy, and not just jonathan.

[ultramaga]

@fans4wga  “That’s a full-time job. “ So ... not the one I was talking about. You ignored my argument, which was about the people who do very little per year, and hyper-focussed on the few who get regular work. The trouble with unions is they want the guy who does bugger all to get the pay of the top guy who earns the megabucks for their employer. And we saw that with the whining from the feminists who demanded equal pay when they couldn’t earn the same amount of profit for their employers. The claim of the strike is that AI will replace the actors because they can take a dude, pay him in exchange for his likeness, and puppet that forever more. The trouble is that the strike demands that the dude get paid forever more, despite doing very little work. In no other industry do you get paid for doing nothing.  “ The show requires them to live in Los Angeles “ So it sounds like they should do literally anything else, because the market recognises they already are utterly replaceable and doesn’t pay them much.  There’s no demand for these workers, and an unlimited supply of folks who see the apex and ignore the conditions of the multitudes below.  Those workers are choosing the low pay. They could walk away which would drive up demand - but they don’t. So they are responsible for the consequences. That means they have chosen the same path as the “starving artist” who looks down on the wage slave but doesn’t sully their own hands in the boring grind as others have to do. “ you’re siding with CEOs “ Fuck off, I say Hollywood should burn. Saying that the strike is stupid doesn’t make me automatically side with the people who degraded it to garbage like She-Hulk.  If a Leftist says anything honest, their brain explodes. So they have to present things as a binary - you are for the Leftist workers or the Leftist bosses! Nah, fuck’em both!

None of them are necessary now. They have made themselves obsolete. Attacking customers? Putting out shite like Coal Black and the Seven Completely Normal People? 

Every member of Hollywood could quit tomorrow and the world would be just fine. @ mockingburb Ahh, a totalitarian telling me I like to lick boots. No, fuck off you pinko fascist, you’re not my type. Isn’t there a schoolboy around you’d prefer to molest? “ I work 60 hrs/week, and that’s considered a low amount of work among my peers. Most of my crew coworkers work 70-90 hrs/week and still struggle to make ends meet. “ Ok. Let’s say a buggy whip maker made a thousand buggy whips, and couldn’t sell one. They make nothing. They cry, they scream, but people just don’t pay for their buggy whips.

They could go on strike and maybe paint it as some sort of oppression that they aren’t being paid as much as some successful jeweler, or ... they could move on. Do literally anything else. Because the market doesn’t value you. Your skills are not important. Prove me wrong. Write up your resume, and find a better employer. But your kind never do. You are in the same boat as the shelf stacker - but you don’t see yourself as being like them. You think you are working class, when you are surrounded by people grinding out their lives at boring or dangerous jobs. You think you are better than them, that you don’t have to play by the rules they do.

And when the ordinary folk lost their jobs to automation, what was it the Leftists taunted them with? “Learn to Code”. So, maybe you should take your own fucking advice. Oh wait - coding is being automated too. Outdated occupations that have bitten the dust

Leftists: We only work a few hours per year and its not enough to live off! Strike! Strike! Strike!

Everyone else: Why would you expect your casual gig to pay so much ?

Leftists: HOW DARE YOU EXPECT WE SWEAT LIKE YOU, PEASANTS!

[whimsicallyreading]

“I just realized I’m desperately in love with you-“

Prompt Day One for Rowaelin Month

~

"Rowan, take a picture of that one. It's so cute." Aelin fawns quietly.

Rowan gives a long-suffering sigh. "There are a thousand of them here. Do you have to pester me into taking a picture of every seal pup we come across?"

"Her name is Fleetfoot, and yes. Isn't that the whole reason we are here?" Aelin looks at him equally annoyed, a strand of gold spun hair freeing itself from beneath her parka.

"I'm here to study the behavioral patterns of tiger seals and orcas in a rapidly shifting environment. You are here to keep our equipment functioning. If you keep talking, neither of us will finish our jobs and escape from this wasteland." Rowan switches the lens of his camera to focus on two male seals who were squaring up with each other in the distance.

Rowan nearly threw his camera over the boat and jumped off into the coastal waters of Argentina when he realized who had been assigned to assist him on this expedition.

He'd insisted that only he and one other make the trek across the Antarctic. Insisting a large group could impede the quality of his research. When they agreed, Rowan thought they would send him with Lorcan or Brullo. Both were accomplished survivalists and scholars—valuable additions to any team.

Instead, it was Aelin Ashryvver who waited for him at the dock. The most annoying newbie on his floor. Dorian insisted that her knowledge of mechanical engineering would make her invaluable.

So far, she was just a verifiable pain in his ass.

She sat around bored as Rowan spent the day writing notes and snapping photos. Occasionally she helped him set up microphones. On one instance, she fixed their ATV. It was the first and only time he'd found her truly useful.

Rowan couldn't wait to go home.

"Alright, we have the cameras positioned. We should head back to the base. The temps are dropping. We need to warm up and eat."

Aelin nods quietly, she would never admit it, but the severe temperatures are taking a toll on her. It was amazing how important something like fat is in a frigid environment. Rowan is naturally covered in layers of dense muscle. While Aelin is fit herself, she's still small and the first to feel the effects of persistent cold.

Watching the seals, she occasionally found herself jealous of their thick layers of blubber that kept them comfortable. She should have carb-loaded before they set sail.

They hop on the snow ski and traverse quickly over the powderlike substance.

~~~

When they reach the Terresen South Pole station and ditch their coats, they fall to the floor in a cascade of flurries. Rowan's spine straightens for the first time that day. Their coats were dense. With the additional weight of all of the equipment he carried, there was a perpetual bend in his spine.

It was a huge relief to be inside a climate-controlled building—light layers, freedom movement, and feeling in all of his extremities. Tossing that coat off was the pinnacle of his daily routine on this mission.

That is until he realized it was freezing.

Walking over to a light switch with urgency, he flicks it a few times. Nothing happens. Anxiety wells in his gut, and he hits the wall a couple of times before flipping the switch again.

"Shit," Rowan hisses.

"The power is out," Aelin's eyes widen with the realization. "That's not good."

"I thought I was the scientist, but look at you stating the obvious," Rowan growls as he shrugs his jacket back on. It wasn't nearly as frigid inside the insulated building as it was outside, but it was still bitterly cold. Keeping warm would be their first step in survival. Without heat, shit could hit the fan for them very quickly. Thankfully their satellite phones should still be functioning; he'd charged the battery the day before. There should be enough juice in the phones to send out a mayday call even without power.

Aelin doesn't put on her jacket. Instead, she heads in the direction of the lockers with a look of determination plastered on her face. It was a look he'd slowly begun to grow familiar with, mainly when Rowan was holding a ration packet she wanted. It made him uneasy.

"Where are you going?" Rowan calls after her, picking up her jacket. He wouldn't be held responsible for his younger, female partner freezing to death. HR at the University would have his head on a stick if she died on his watch.

He follows Aelin to her locker, where she's already sliding a grey jumpsuit over her clothes.

"I can fix the engines," Aelin pulls her zipper up. The jumpsuit covered head-to-toe, but they weren't nearly as warm as their snow gear. He could already see a slight blue-ish tint to her lips. "They probably just stalled. All I need to do is go down, diagnose the problem, and fix it. Easy as pie."

Ignoring the massive oversimplification of their situation, knowing it was a lost cause, he focuses on the immediate problem. "You need to keep your jacket on," Rowan thrusts the article of clothing at her. Her color was concerning him, and the longer she went without the thermal garment, the higher his stress became.

Aelin gives him a long-suffering look, all too similar to the one he gives her. "And get my hood or a sleeve caught in one of those beasts? Those machines are massive. Getting snagged could rip my arm off or kill me. It's like you don't even have a master's in engineering and a spotless safety record," she smiles at Rowan's scowling face. "Oh wait, that's me. Let me do my job, Dr. Whitethorn."

Before Rowan could argue, Aelin was gone down the stairwell towards the engines.

Dragging a frustrated hand through his hair, he tosses her jacket on the floor. His time is probably better spent getting through to their mission handlers on the satellite phones anyway.

~~~

Two hours later, Rowan has long finished his call with Dorian.

Their expedition leader had asked if they wanted a recovery team sent out to them, but Rowan hesitated. He was on the mission of a lifetime. He'd spent years waiting for approval to research at the southernmost tip of the world. It would be a devastating blow to his career and his pride for it to be cut short. The selfish part of him wanted to stay. The rationale, reasonable part of him was aching to stay the full duration of the expedition.

"You know, Dr. Whitethorn," Dorian spoke carefully. "There is a reason we chose Aelin to accompany you. She may be green and lacking a doctorate, but she's a miracle worker at what she does."

"Are you asking me to put my life in the newbie's hands?" Rowan asked without his standard vitriol. The situation and the cold had left him with no energy to be spiteful. He'd heard talk of her capabilities amongst the guys, and he'd seen a fraction of it when their snowmobile broke down. Rowan thinks back to the look on her face when she'd gone down the stairs. The steely determination of a warrior marching off to do battle.

Dorian laughs as if there was something funny about two of his most stubborn colleagues getting stranded in the south pole by themselves. "I'm not asking you to do anything. It's your call."

Rowan closes his eyes and contemplates their options. His head told him they should call the extraction team before they were nothing but frozen corpses. Yet, his heart didn't want to leave so soon. There was still so much work left to do.

Could he rely on Aelin?

"We will stay for now. Expect a call in twenty-four hours with a progress update." Rowan disconnected the transmission without any of the standard formalities.

After the fruitless call, he checks their food supply. Rowan scans the shelves, comfortable they wouldn't go hungry any time soon. Their only concern would be keeping all their shit from freezing, including their water. Rowan triple checks that everything is insulated, sealed, and stored away before moving on to other essentials, like batteries.

Another hour passes as he takes inventory, and Rowan is starting to feel the cold more than before. His nailbeds slowly shift from blue to white beneath his thick gloves, and he can't control the slight quaking spreading up his limbs.

When Rowan hears the doorway to the stairwell creak, he goes to check in with Aelin on her progress.

What he finds when he opens the locker room door sends his heart to his throat.

Aelin's hands loosely grip the zipper of her jumpsuit as she weakly attempts to free herself. Her face is a ghostly white, and her movements sluggish.

If she weren't moving, he'd have thought she was already frozen.

"Aelin, are you good? Talk to me." Rowan rushes to her and helps Aelin step out from the jumpsuit.

"I fixed the engine," Aelin coughs into the crook of her arm, her voice scratchy from the cool air. "It will be a couple of hours before they can catch up and heat the building."

Rowan rips off a glove and holds a bare hand to her cheek. Aelin's skin is freezing to the touch, even to his own icy hands. He notes that she isn't trembling the same way he is. It's not a good sign, the biologist in him notes. He knows it's her body growing too weak to keep itself warm.

"Sit down. You're freezing," Rowan helps her slide to the floor and looks at the discarded jacket that's still lying there. It won't warm her quick enough.

"Rowan?" Aelin speaks from her slightly slumped position.

Rowan is pacing, trying to think. They don't have a means of warming water for a bath. Laying next to the generators is too risky.

"Rowan," Aelin murmurs, her eyes drooping. "I can't feel my feet."

Rowan looks at her, and for a moment, she looks like an ice princess. Her blond hair is slipping from its braid and coiling across her colorless face. The cerulean blue of her eyes was the brightest color he now saw regularly beside the southern lights. They stood out even more starkly now.

It was all wrong.

"It's going to be alright, Aelin. You said the power is back on?" Rowan lifts her into his arms, her freezing nose burrowing into the crook of his neck.

"Yeah," she rasps against his shoulder. "But it will take a while for the building to heat."

"We don't need the whole building to heat. Do you trust me?" Rowan trots down the hall, careful not to bump her against the narrow doorframes.

She mumbles something incoherent into his shirt. "I trust you."

Rowan is thankful that the cold keeps the flush from his face. He reaches the desired room and fiddles with the control panel on the wall. A wave of relief hits him as the room behind the heavy door audibly hums to life.

"Okay, here we go." He says more to himself than Aelin. Rowan ditches the jacket and pulls his long-sleeved tee over his head. The buttons of his pants are next, leaving him in only his boxers.

Turning around, Aelin looks weary but not surprised. "Nice abs."

"Thanks," He says and kneels next to her, eyes searching her face for permission.

Aelin dips her head, "I'm not shy, Whitethorn. Don't fret."

Rowan helps Aelin maneuver her stiff limbs out of her garments until she is left in nothing but her bra and panties. Her face is pained as even more of her is exposed to the cold.

"Hurts," Aelin grits through her teeth, and Rowan gathers her up again. The icy room is like barbs against his exposed skin, but he's not in a position to complain.

The minute he carries her into the balmy air of the sauna, Aelin flinches. "Oh, that smarts."

"I know. It's going to suck for a bit while your blood recirculates." Rowan consoles softly, knowing he would also feel the cramping as they got their blood moving.

Drastic temperatures changes weren't the ideal way to warm up, but they'd spent far too long in the cold. He needed to get Aelin shivering again. It was the body's natural defense against the cold, and when a person could no longer shiver, it meant they were dipping into the realm of hypothermia.

The sauna was an added addition for the comfort of the researchers who visited the Southern base. It was a great tool to warm people after spending hours in the harsh climate. He'd heard tales of it from colleagues who'd visited the base before but hadn't yet saught to use it himself. Rowan was too focused on the mission. It hadn't carried any appeal for him until this moment, and now he was beyond grateful for its existence.

Rowan sits on the floor instead of the bench so that Aelin can curl up comfortably in his lap. Skin-to-skin contact was one of the best ways to help a person regulate their body temperature. He soothes a calloused hand over the length of her arm, trying to spread what remained of his warmth to her skin.

Aelin's cheek rests against his chest, and Rowan uses one hand to free her hair from its braid. The curtain of gold fans across her back, and he has to resist the urge to run his fingers through its waves.

He'd noticed how beautiful she was the day they first met at the university. Out of respect, he'd immediately repressed those thoughts. They were professionals, and Rowan wasn't about to ruin his reputation fawning over the new, young blonde on their floor.

But with her laying half-naked in his lap, it was hard to disregard how pretty she was. It wasn't even just her appearance. The girl was magnetic in every way. People paid attention when she walked in, and she claimed the lion's share of air in the room.

Fenrys and Conall flirted with her remorselessly. It secretly irked him. Rowan had long since memorized the way she laughed and how she'd smile as she shoed them away. It was all good-natured fun for them, but it always made Rowan irrationally angry. The time she'd showed up at the annual Christmas party in a green velvet dress with an open back nearly left his brain on the floor. His eyes had raked the smooth plains of skin, only turning away when she'd tried to catch his eye.

If he'd been paying attention, he would have seen her look of disappointment.

Rowan had written it off as an infatuation—a natural response to seeing an attractive woman. The scientist in him wanted to boil it down to chemistry and hormones. Cold facts that could diagnose the way he felt every time he laid eyes on her. Yet, as Rowan laid there with a hurting Aelin in his arms, he began to wonder if there was something more.

Her pain was making his chest physically ache.

A pair of arms snaked around his waist, and his body jerked. Aelin looks up at him sheepishly. "Sorry, I'm just really comfortable."

Rowan relaxes, "It's fine."

The steam in the room is slowly building. Rowan can feel the cramping beginning in his legs. Aelin's weight on his thighs was not helping the slightest, but there was no way in hell he'd move her.  

"My body is aching," Aelin says lightly, but he can hear the strain in her voice and feel a slight tremble running through her.

"That's good. Can you feel your feet?" Rowan can no longer resist, and her hair parts between his fingers like strands of gold silk.

Aelin tightens her arms around him, "Yeah. A bit. I didn't realize how numb they got until I took off my boots."

There's a slight tickle at his back, Aelin's finger tracing a pattern against his skin. A flush of warmth rushes through him, not from the sauna.

He's in unending deep shit.

"Aelin," his voice wavers uncharacteristically. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The fingers on his back continue making their delicate patterns. "No."

"Aelin?" He asks again, but she cuts him off with a groan.

"Stop asking me questions and just kiss me," Aelin grips the back of his head and pulls his lips down to her's.

An inferno blooms inside his soul.

Aelin could never be a winter queen. She was the raging embodiment of summer. A burning ember he'd carried from the north into this land of ice. As his lips move against hers, he swears his body is lit ablaze, and when Rowan opens his eyes, he's delighted at the flush he finds unfurling across her cheeks.

"It's suddenly a lot warmer." Aelin laughs, looking more lively even as her body starts to quake from the warmth finally reaching her.

He kisses her cheek and tilts her ear towards his lips, "Aelin?"

"Another question?" Aelin's smile curls into something feline. "Is this that scientific curiosity the university is always going on about?"

"I just realized I'm desperately in love with you,"

Rowan lets the truth fall from his lips. It was just the two of them. They were the only human souls in this far corner of the earth. There was no one to stop him as he finally lets the emotions he'd been repressing until the moment Aelin was in danger wash over him.

"That's not a question," Aelin responds after a moment, her tone light and jovial.

Rowan smiles. "It's not."

Aelin curls back up against Rowan, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers. An embarrassing sound of contentment escapes her, which worsens her blush.

Not forgetting their original purpose in the sauna, Rowan grips her hands and massages them between his. "You have no response?"

"Not one that HR is going to like." Aelin winces as her hand spasms, and Rowan methodically works to ease the ache.

"Say it anyway," Rowan implores. Screw the university. He was tired of living for his work alone. Nothing outshined this moment, holding this woman in his arms. He could find a new job, but if Aelin reciprocated his feelings, he couldn't find another one of her.

"Well, I thought it was pretty obvious when I wore that dress to the Christmas party and then found a reason to walk past your office every day." Aelin huffs and looks up at him, "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Rowan was speechless.

Aelin's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Rowan, Dorian, and I are friends. Did you know that?"

"What?" Rowan blinks confusedly. That was common knowledge, but he didn't understand why she was bringing that up now.

"Dorian and I go way back. He knew I had a thing for you, and I told him sending me on this trip was unethical when I'm such a new hire-" Aelin trails off, waiting for him to grasp her point.

"Wait," Rowan looks down at her, bemused. "Dorian was trying to set us up?"

"Human recourses won't like that very much either," Aelin grins. "But Dorian would keep our secret. He owes me a lot of favors."

The sauna's temperature had slowly been rising, and Rowan could see that his skin was returning to its usual color. Aelin still looked a bit pale, but it was probably residuals from being so close to freezing.

She'd risked herself to save the expedition and successfully fixed the engines. Rowan didn't believe for one second that Dorian only sent her in an elaborate attempt to set her up. She was bright and cunning. He was lucky to have her along with him.

"You got here on your merit," Rowan presses a soft peck to her lips as he soothes her unvoiced concern. He refused to let her doubt her level of skill. "But if the feelings are mutual, I would love to take you on a date when we get back home?"

"I would love that," Aelin crawls off his lap and holds a hand out. "Come on, now. We need to eat and sleep. We have seals to observe."

Rowan accepted her hand. Forget the seals. He would have a difficult time keeping his attention on them. His eyes were glued to her bare legs as they moved and the way her hair swung free of its constraints.

She smirked over his shoulder. Aelin knew precisely what she was doing to him.

Rowan had traversed to the end of the world to understand the natural universe a little better. While he hadn't unlocked any great mysteries, he couldn't help but think what he did find was better.

[space-mermaid-writing]

House Arrest [Reader X Loki] Chapter 3

Summary: You are Clint’s 'little' sister and actually a trained Shield agent. But you gave that up a few years ago and became a Chef, because you wanted a normal live. Then one day Natasha shows up at your door and takes you to the Avenger Tower for a while for security reasons.

Tags: Reader is an former Shield Agent, chef!reader, Reader Barton, 2012 Avenger vibes, everything is still alright, Slice of Life, Avengers Family, Loki has a good heart, still the god of mischief, Slow Burn, mention of food and cooking

Read it on AO3

Chapter 3: Nighttime pancakes

The next few days you got to know everything a little better: The tower, the Avengers - as far as they were present and showed themselves - and the rest of the staff that you ran into from time to time. You also discovered that the tower had its own training halls. Actually this was just logical given the team that lives here. Often when you were out and about in the building, you got the faint feeling of being watched. It was a little disturbing, but you dismissed it by saying that the environment was still new to you. Also, you had learned that JARVIS had access to all the public rooms and most of them were probably video monitored too. You weren’t sure about your own quarters yet, but you were also not sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Unfortunately the nights are very long, because you sleep very badly here. Despite the short time, you miss walking outside, through the streets, and besides, you are used to a rather strict daily routine. Sure, it's nice to switch off for a few days and not have to do anything. A little vacation, so to speak. But you're someone who soon gets bored with that. You chose a profession that requires you to spend hours running around the kitchen, preparing dishes and finishing orders for a reason after all. The price of your now lazy life is that you toss and turn in your bed at night without really being tired. Maybe there are some additional worries that keep you awake. For example, the Hydra question that was still unresolved.

This night you turn from side to side again, sighing, and at some point take a look at the digital alarm clock. Its digits glowing a light red in the darkness. It's three in the morning. Or night. Depending on how you see it. After a few more unsuccessful tries to sleep, you give up and decide to roam the halls a bit. Just walking around and stretching your legs. Outside, it's quiet. Only the soft whirring of some working machines can be heard. The corridors are discreetly lit, so you have no trouble finding your way, which leads you into the large lobby. It’s actually the first time since your arrival that you find it completely empty. Still, you have the familiar feeling that you are not alone. Jarvis probably never sleeps.

Out of habit, you end up in the kitchen and take a bored look into the fridge. Nothing in there appeals to you, but you're not really hungry either. Not even for a little snack. Still, you feel like cooking. Maybe pancakes. You could eat them for breakfast later. Without thinking too long about it, you get a bowl from the cupboard and tie an apron around yourself, which you have obligatory lying here by now. Flour, milk and eggs are quickly mixed and a few other ingredients are added for flavor. You put some butter in a pan on the stove. When it became liquid, you start to fry the first pancake and gradually got more and more, so that you quickly have a respectable pile together. Quietly, you hum to yourself.

"It's been a long time since anyone has been here at this hour”, you suddenly hear an unfamiliar voice behind you. Surprised, you whirl around, holding a knife that had been lying next to the stove. A dark-haired man in a green shirt is standing by the kitchen island, watching your actions curiously. When he sees the knife, he raises both hands to calm you down. On each of his arms you notice a narrow silver hoop with a red dot flashing. You hadn't heard a door, and you're not sure how long he's been standing there. "What’s your deal? Can’t sleep?", you ask him. "Just like you apparently." You raise an eyebrow and set the knife aside as the pancakes demand your attention. "You're Loki, aren't you?" It's more of a statement than a question, and the man nods. "And you're the archer's sister", he respond, which makes you in turn nod. "I‘m Y/N, pleasure to meet you." "You don't often hear that as a prisoner", he says amused, but still keeps eye on you, waiting for your reaction. "Heard about it. I guess we're sitting in the same boat." "Oh, really?" "Well, I probably won't be tasered right away if I try to leave the building." "Probably?", Loki follows up. "Yeah, I'm not entirely sure about that."

You talk for a while until you hear the elevator ping quietly in the lobby. But you're not paying attention right now, as you're busy scraping the last bit of dough out of the bowl and then turning off the stove. "Would you like some?" you ask Loki, turning to him only to find that he has disappeared. Taken aback, you turn your attention to the room next door, where you hear muffled voices. Then the door opens. "THAT'S what I call a nice welcome," Clint grins, looking at the stack of pancakes. "Brother dear", you greet him equally pleased and surprised at his unexpected appearing. Smiling, you walk up to him and hug him. Along with him, Steve Rogers, whom you've also already seen on the news as Captain America, came in. He seems a little confused at first, but after you fill him in on who you are, he welcomes you as well.

"What are you doing here?" your brother then asks you. "You can see that. I'm making breakfast for you." "No, I mean, what are you doing here?" He specifies the question with a gesture that included all the surroundings as well as the Tower. "Oh..." It's clearly too middle of the night for you to be that precise. In a few words, you explain your situation. Clint has some encouraging words for you, but can understand that you are not enthusiastic. "At least we can get more on each other's nerves again. Why don't you start right now and join us while we eat?", he laugh, putting his arm around your shoulder in a brotherly fashion as he pushes you toward the stove. You have to laugh, too. "You mean while you eat my breakfast." "Exactly." You go get two plates from the cupboard and serve the men each a good stack of pancakes with maple syrup. They thank you and the group of you make yourselves comfortable at the kitchen island. "Where and how do you guys usually eat here?", you ask in the meantime. "We each order our own food. Probably have a flat rate with all the suppliers in the neighborhood," Clint explains. Steves' gaze is on you questioningly. "Don't you want some pancakes, too?" "In the middle of the night? No thanks, I'm not hungry." "Then why did you made them, if you don't mind me asking?" "I knew you'd come and could use something in your stomach", you reply with a serious expression, to which Steve shoots first you and then your brother a scrutinizing look. He’d seen enough weird shit while working with the Avengers to take such a statement quite seriously. And he wonders whether you, unlike Hawkeye, have superpowers. But only until you can no longer stifle the broad grin, because his facial expression is just too funny.

Before you can say anything, though, Clint interjects. "As siblings, we've just developed some sort of telepathic ability." You nod in agreement. "Exactly. That's how I always know when he's going to say something stupid and deserve a head butt." "To be honest, I never heard him talk about you before”, Steve admits. "See”, you wink, "It‘s working out just fine." You laugh, and while they continue to eat, Clint tells you about the mission they just came from.

Afterwards, you put another stack of pancakes on a plate to take it with you back to the lobby. "Hungry now, are you?", your brother asks you, clearly tired after the long journey and at this late hour. Just as the super soldier. "Maybe”, you answer shortly and wish them both a good night. The greeting comes back double and you head into the large lobby with the elevators. "Jarvis?" "Yes, Miss Barton?" "Where is Loki's apartment?", you ask the computer. "You are not exactly authorized to receive this information." "I just want to get him something to eat."

You raise the plate in your hands a little higher and apparently your answer is analyzed, because for a few seconds there is silence. But then you get the information you want and are directed to the door you are looking for. It was on another floor and at the end of a long corridor.

You knock, but at first there is no response. So you try again. "Come on, my prince, I know you're not asleep and it's rude to leave a lady at a locked door." You hear an amused sound from the other side and shortly after the door is opened. With his arms crossed, Loki stands before you. "It's also rude to disturb a prince in the middle of the night, M’Lady", he replies. "Rude would be to refuse a dinner from a lady. Especially when she personally hands it to you", you add, giving him the plate. It's impossible for you to tell if he's amused or annoyed as he looks from you to the pancakes in his hand. "I never said I wanted any“, he states. "But you didn't say you didn't want them, either. Just give them a try. I'm pretty good at cooking." With that, you turn to go. "Good night, dear prince," you wish him, but without turning around. So you miss the grin on Loki's face as he closes the door.

[katyamorrigan]

‘A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat’ - Chp. 1!

Gang banner by @verdiris​

A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat

A trunk of contraband items ends up in the hands of the Crows, but the item that piques their curiosity most is the large box labelled “MONOPOLY”. Kaz is out of the Slat for the time being, so of course they decide to play it. Was there ever a mission more likely to fail than six criminals with lethal skills and undeniable emotional ties all trying to build a make-believe empire without killing each other in the process? Answer: yes - all of the above while attempting to pull off a heist at the same time.

Turns out board games weren’t the only interesting items shipped into Fifth Harbour that afternoon, and now the Razorgulls are interested. It will take all of the gang’s effort to break into two buildings full of rival gang members, regain possession of the contraband, and make it back to the Slat in one piece. And that’s without the inherent strains of playing at business negotiations with a group of decidedly underhand friends.

Join the Crows as they cheat, steal, lie, and bribe each other, all before the heist has even begun.

I am so excited to finally get to share the fic that I have been working on for the @grishaversebigbang​ over the last few months - A Hotel on the Board is Worth Two on the Geldstraat! Getting to take part in the Grishaverse Big Bang 2021 has been so much fun, and I have had the honour of working with an absolutely incredible gang of artists and the loveliest beta reader. It’s been an absolute blast, and this is one of my favourite things that I’ve written. Thank you so much to everyone that I’ve worked with, and I hope that you enjoy reading and admiring the story and art that we’ve created!

Here is everyone in my gang, with links to the work that they’ve created (some art may relate to chapters of the fic that haven’t been posted yet - the fic will be posted in its entirety within the next 3 weeks and the art will be linked within the fic on the relevant lines, but also there’s nothing that will spoil the story for you, so don’t worry!):

Corporalki: @davonysus​ (who is the most wonderful beta reader, thank you for everything that you contributed to this story!)

Materialki: 

@ciph3rrr​ with hilarious Crows-minus-Kaz Monopoly shenanigans from Chapter 1

@j-wirth​ ​with this brilliant Inej and Wesper moment inspired by Chapters 2 and 7

@bloodysusher​ with a gorgeous group moment in Chapter 7

@verdiris​ with some amusing Kaz geniusness from Chapter 7

@maximumbluebirdpatrol​ (link still to come)

@emmaxtw​ (link still to come)

There are 7 chapters in total, so I shall be uploading a new one every Tuesday and Saturday until 25th September. Look below the cut for an excerpt from Chapter 1, and if you want to read the full thing (and check out the collection of all the other incredible pieces created for the GVBB) then click either of the links. I hope that you enjoy!

AHOTBIWTOTG Chapter 1 Excerpt:

The front door of the Slat opened with a loud clatter, and slammed shut on itself seconds later. It made Inej jump in her seat as she sat going over ship documentation - which, as it turned out, there was a lot of - in the front room. Nina gave her a look, and Inej wrinkled her nose back at her; the Wraith didn’t startle easily, but equally, there was usually less banging of doors while she tried to organise her finances.

“Honeys, I’m home!” Came Jesper’s voice. “And I brought treats!”

“It had better be more exciting than that time you came back from Cilla’s Fry with meat pies,” Inej called back. “That was underwhelming.”

“Speak for yourself,” Nina chimed in. “I was more than happy to finish up those.”

“We know.” Matthias gave her a knowing look, and Wylan sniggered as she raised a single finger at him in response. 

The bickering that came from everyone trying to work on separate projects at the same time was one of the many reasons that Inej hadn’t made it past the first page of her sailing license. That being said, she joined in the chuckling at Nina’s expense.

“Oh, it’s definitely better than Cilla’s pies, but you’ll have to take a look for yourself.”

Jesper rounded the corner, a large trunk tucked under one slim arm. His face was bright from the brisk, cold air of the streets, and a bead of sweat dropped from his chin as he deposited the luggage on the table beside Inej. She sighed heavily as the wad of pages in front of her jumped with the sudden extra weight.

“Sorry,” Jesper grinned. She just rolled her eyes fondly in response.“Come on, who wants to see what I’ve got?”

Nina, Matthias and Wylan all got up from the neighbouring table and crowded around Inej and Jesper. It was uncomfortable having so many significantly taller people stood behind her while she was sitting, so Inej scooped up her papers and deposited them on the floor, taking their place on the table so that she could get a good look at the trunk.

“Where did you get that?” Matthias asked.

“Well, our dearest Kaz decided to put me on shipment duty and I had to wait around at the Exchange for a boat full of contraband to come in. It took hours, so as soon as I saw something that looked interesting, I used my innumerable skills to swipe it so that we could take a look inside.”

““Innumerable” is a long word for you,” Nina quipped. 

A bubble of laughter rose up amongst the group, and Jesper stuck his tongue out childishly. “Fine, no contraband for you.”

“No, I want to look!”

“Be nice, then. I get first dibs on anything cool because I found it.”

Matthias snorted. “What happened to the ancient rule of “finder’s keepers”?”

“I found the trunk, therefore I found anything that’s inside it by proxy.”

“Can we just open it up?” Wylan said impatiently. “I feel like we’re building expectations by arguing like this – it’s probably smuggled whiskey or something.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Kaz?” Inej asked. The others gave her a look of incredulity. “Where is he, anyway?”

There was a brief moment of looking at each other for answers, before Jesper answered decisively. “If he was so worried about what came in on the boat, he would’ve gone himself. And if he isn’t here now, then he’ll just have to accept whatever is left over from the spoils.”

“We aren’t actually pirates, you know,” Inej said.

“Not yet,” Jesper stage-whispered in reply, and Inej found herself grinning, pleased. “Gather around, then.” He beckoned everyone closer like a ringmaster at the centre of a performance. 

Inej was surprised to find that her heart was actually beating faster with the thought of what might be inside. Wylan was probably right that they were getting themselves worked up over nothing, but all the same, she couldn’t help hoping that they found something rare or exciting. Perhaps it was gold? Guns? Something dangerous? You could never know when it came to the imports of Ketterdam, and for once Inej was glad for the intensity of life in the city. It could very well be something extraordinary.

The catches on the front of the trunk lifted easily, but there was a thick knot of string around the middle as well. Jesper struggled to untie it, so Inej slipped a knife from her sleeve and cut it off with one flick of her wrist. Giving her a mischievous look, Jesper dug his fingernails under the lid and with a crackle of flaking rust, the trunk opened.

On top there was a loose gauzy scarf clearly intended to keep moisture out of the trunk on the long sea voyage, which had definitely served its purpose; the red print had blotted itself onto the inside of the lid, and there were water stains on it where it had protected the rest of the cargo. Matthias and Nina went to grab it at the same time, but it ended up in Nina’s hands regardless as he passed it to her with a shy smile.

“I thought you would want it, so I was making sure no-one else got there first.”

Wylan made an exaggerated gagging noise, and Matthias’ expression quickly reverted to his familiar scowl.

“Aha!”

Jesper reached forward and pulled out two pistols, both only a little rusty and with a single blue gem stamped into the body of each. With impressive speed he turned around and mimed firing two shots at the wall before holstering them beside his favoured revolvers.

As Matthias pulled out a slim soft-covered book, Inej realised that she was far too focused on the discoveries of her friends and was going to miss out on finding her own treasures otherwise. Lifting up two more scarves – this time green and blue – she found another couple of books which she handed to Nina. Her friend’s focus was pulled away from adjusting her hair under her newly matching scarf to flicking through the pages and wrinkling her nose hard.

“I don’t recognise the language, but I can understand it well enough,” Nina mused.

“Where did the boat come in from, Jesper?” Wylan asked as he opened a small wooden keepsake box full of golden rings in varying levels of ornate decoration.

“Kaz didn’t say, and I’ll be honest, I didn’t pay much attention.”

Nina tutted and continued her reading with Matthias peering over her shoulder. With fingers now covered in rings, Wylan pulled out a long fur coat that smelt of mould. Removing its furry cuffs from the case, Inej reached into the trunk for what seemed to be the last item: a big box made of thick card, with a green cover and the word MONOPOLY emblazoned on the top. The lettering was incredibly clear, but it didn’t look as though it had been done by hand or with a printing press. It had an odd shiny feel to the outside as well, like it had been coated in order to keep out the damp.

Inej sat it on the table and lifted the lid. It came off easily, and revealed a large square of that same thick card in bright red that unfolded into a larger board with regular markings on it.

“What in the Saints’ names is that?” Nina remarked, putting down her reading material.

“I have no idea. It was at the bottom of the trunk.”

“Is it a map?” Wylan suggested.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Inej murmured as she put the board down and looked at what was left in the box. 

Underneath that map-like object was a tray divided into several compartments, with little silver tokens collected in one, some colourful playing cards of an unknown variety in another, and some appealing little houses done in an unusual material in both green and red. Beside those lay a rack of what looked like currency, in the same shape and thickness as notes of kruge. Jesper immediately started rifling through it all, mixing up the various collections and inspecting them all with irregular attention. Although Wylan slapped his hand away with a tut, it clearly wasn’t out of lack of interest.

“What is it?” Nina asked again. Taking the board in her hands, she began to stumble through the words written on it.

“Collect 200… something, looks like it could be a currency symbol because it says “salary” after that, as you pass GO... Old Kent Road, another amount of money… sixty? Community chest, Whitechapel Road, same amount of money as the other square…”

As she turned it over in her hands, a slim white booklet fell out onto the table. Inej started forward and managed to snatch it up before anyone else did, although the gesture was useless as she immediately handed it to Nina, who skimmed over the first few lines and let out a delighted noise.

“It’s a game! A board game! Seems like you play by going around the board which has place names marked out on it, and you buy up the land so that you can build houses on it. And you compete to earn the most money.”

“Who’s sending weird foreign board games to Ketterdam?” Wylan said incredulously. “Are you sure it’s not got something contraband hidden in there somehow?”

Inej laughed. “Does a game based on financial gain not strike you as the most Kerch thing in the world? I can well believe a mercher bought this to educate their children on the fun of working under Ghezen.”

Wylan cracked a grin at that, and Nina snorted. She pushed the box towards him.

“Take a look if you want.”

He lifted up the tray of items and ran his fingers along the underside, then looked inside each of the little model houses as if there might be gemstones wedged in the base like on Jesper’s guns. Wylan tapped along the top of the board, but there were no hidden compartments or secret openings. It seemed as though they had genuinely come across some kind of entertainment from another country.

“Shall we play it?” Jesper said with a broad grin at everyone. “We’ve got nothing else on, have we?”

“I’m meant to have applied for my sailing license by the end of next week,” Inej said weakly, but she wasn’t much interested in her own excuse. This bizarre-looking game they had stolen by chance had already caught her attention far more than boat permits and crew-hiring documents.

“I’m happy to,” Matthias said, and Nina and Wylan nodded fervently as well.

“Perfect! Let’s not disturb everyone’s things down here, we can take it into another room.”

“Nobody’s bedrooms are big enough,” Nina complained. “Kaz is too cheap to give us enough space to actually enjoy our stay at The House of Brekker.”

“His bedroom is, though.”

Read more here!

[thexfridax]

Translated interview with Adèle Haenel, heroine of “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”

Performing in order to richly live the now

Tomoko Ogawa, in: Ginza Mag, 3rd of December 2020 Translation by Rose @rosedelosvientos​ 🙏🏾

Set in 18th-century France, the daughter of an aristocrat who refuses marriage and a female painter who makes her portrait  - two people of different social status - meet and fall in an unforgettable love that will last for a lifetime.

In the film “Portrait of a Lady on Fire”, Héloïse, an aristocrat, is played by Adèle Haenel, who, as an actress, always thinks, acts and decides constantly for herself. Late last year, she filed a complaint against the director for sexual abuse during/after her first film debut 18 years ago. At the César Awards, she protested and walked out after Polanski won Best Director, which shook the world of French cinema and is also still fresh from memory.

This film is also the work of Céline Sciamma, the director of Water Lilies, in which Adèle Haenel also appeared. Adèle recounts her thoughts about her current film, and director Sciamma’s “Female Gaze”, who, for many years was also her partner in her private life.

Q: Last year, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” opened and was screened in Europe, and won Best Screenplay at the 72nd Cannes Film Festival. A year and a half has passed since then. Do you feel the magnitude of this work’s influence on women empowerment?

A: If put this way, people might think that it may be too subjective, but I think that not only this film, but Céline Sciamma’s works have constantly played a role in empowering women. But, it was understood that, surely, there’s also a way - that it’s possible to show the worldview of equal love between women from a different perspective, in a history where there are a lot of films that contained an element of women being controlled unilaterally from men’s point of view.

Q: Not dominance, but the joy of collaborating and creating something with someone, and the love that continues to grow is depicted in this film. What do you think sets it apart from many other films that have depicted love until now?

A: Until now, love has been depicted in ways such as controlling the other person, and in a sensual manner, but in this film, the nature of love is kinda different, I guess. The two women who happen to be in that place - while interacting extemporaneously using language that is characteristic of themselves and figuring each other out - are building up their relationship. While it’s fictional without altering historical facts, it’s a proposal that’s entirely different from what love looks like until now. I think that it’s a film that brings with it a new perspective.

Q: It’s not a one-sided view from the painter’s perspective where the person whose portrait is being painted is the “muse”, but rather of both sides looking at each other, and the connection of being seen is depicted. I think that you’ve also been called a “muse” up to this point, but during those times, do you remember how you felt then?

A: The word “muse” is used against actresses as a stereotype, and there were people who did say that to me that but, even if I were called a “muse”, I’ve come to be aware of not taking that position that’s being asked. That’s because even if it’s the director who’s directing, ultimately it’s up to the actors how they perform something while working together with different actors. So, you’re supposed to actively consider how you build up the character relationships artistically, politically, all aspects. In the first place, it’s not acceptable that in most films it’s the men looking, and the women being looked at, so even for things that aren’t visible on the surface, I constantly think and make decisions for myself.

Q: Tell us about the charm of Céline Sciamma as a director.  

A: She has a very clear perspective, doesn’t she? She’s a person who can raise all sorts of questions and kinda make you rethink various ideas, not about how reality is, simply, but beyond those ideas that are based on the reality that there is. She’s also a visionary, and she understands the wonder of fiction, and has philosophical ideas.

Q: In this film, you were also able to apply the relationship of trust that you’ve built with your partner, at the time, through the course of many years.

A: That’s right. I’ve been friends with her for as long as 15 years, and of course she was also my partner, and that’s because I’ve been collaborating artistically for many years. This time,  in the script, too, the character of Héloïse was written with me in mind. So since we’ve already built that trust with each other, there was no need to talk about every little thing, like, “I’m thinking of doing it this way”.

Q: This film has a mostly female staff, such as director Céline Sciamma, cinematographer Claire Mathon, Hélène Delmaire, the female artist who carried out the painting on-screen, etc. What do you think about its significance?

A: From the very start, this film’s intent  - especially since the relationship between women hasn’t really been presented as something very important - is to focus the spotlight on women across history who weren’t written about. This time, an axis (focal point) has been put together by the film crew for the women who properly understand that importance, so there’s a part  where the production did really well, I think.

Q: Through this film, is there anything that you discovered about yourself?

A: I don’t think in a way like, that there was a discovery or change just because of the role that I played. Basically, I’m the type of person who keeps moving and doesn’t stand still, who constantly asks and answers my own questions, and raises issues. Whichever work it is, I perceive them in one of those processes.

Q: I see. In the midst of constant movement, what is your primary motivation as an actor?

A: Meeting with people with whom I can collaborate with is a big one. Whenever I work with new people, I’m made to realize that there’s also such a different way of depicting (t/n: lit. “drawing”) the world. That there is a way to richly live the now, that is in film and art in general. That also motivates me.

Q: With all this motivation that’s hitherto been given to you by the director, do you think that it’s because you both share a common perspective?

A: Since I take the responsibility myself when I perform, there’s no such thing as being influenced by the director. I’m a person who doesn’t really care (t/n: I’ve a feeling ‘give a shit’ is what she really wanted to say here) about hierarchy, and the people whom I can really respect are those persuasive people who have a clear perspective, and, within the silence, can properly show what they want to talk about. Directors who give hints to the actors on how they can arrive at the reality that they’re thinking they want to depict more. I’m thinking that actors don’t express form, rather, their role is to explore the expounding of their own vocabulary. So a person who has a clear vision of what they want, and what they want to draw is amazing, in my opinion.  

Q: Finally, all the handmade dresses have an impression that they’re being fastened thickly and heavily, but how do you think the costumes influence your acting?

A: When I wear the costumes, I feel like a pilot in the Star Wars series (laughs), so as we handle the costumes that we’re given, I really think about how I’m going to move while in it, you know? The one we had was a basic dress, but at first there was a feeling of nervousness, a tense kind of stiffness. But as the story went on, I try to be aware that the movements of the dress will become a bit softer along with my facial expressions. Even if it’s the same costume, I performed while feeling that change of heart.

“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” Original Title:  Portrait de la jeune fille en feu Director: Céline Sciamma Cast: Noémie Merlant, Adèle Haenel, Luana Bajrami, Valeria Golino Music: Jean-Baptiste de Laubier Distribution: GAGA 2019/France/122 mins./Colour/Vista/5.1 Digital Channel Dec. 4, 2020, TOHO Cinema Chanter, Bunkamura Le Cinéma Nationwide Screening © Lilies Films https://gaga.ne.jp/portrait/

Profile Adèle Haenel Born in January 1, 1989 in Paris, France. Attended theater classes at 13 years old. In 2002, debuted as the heroine Chloe in Les Diables. In 2007, her name became more well-known after being nominated for Most Promising Actress at the César Awards. Furthermore, she was also nominated for her role in House of Tolerance (2011), and for Suzanne (2013), achieved Best Supporting Actress, and won Best Actress for Love at First Sight (2014) – becoming one of the actresses representing the world of French cinema both in name and substance. Her major appearances also include The Unknown Girl (2016) and Bloom of Yesterday (2016), among others.

***

Translated excerpt from ’“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” - Approaching the True Face* of Adèle Haenel’

Atsuko Tatsuta, in: Madame Figaro Japan, 4th of December 2020 Translation by Rose @rosedelosvientos 💜

(*t/n: may also mean the 'true nature’ of AH. Literally it means bare face with no make-up.)

“A woman who has an adventurous spirit, while living under constraints.”

Interviewer: Marianne and Héloïse are depicted as contrasting characters, aren’t they? From the outset, when the canvas falls from the boat, Marianne jumps into the ocean in order to retrieve it. Héloïse, which you performed, has never gone into the sea despite living in the island. How did you interpret the contrast between this free and conservative way of living?

Adèle Haenel: Marianne and Héloïse were indeed depicted contrastingly. Not just marriage, but Héloïse is a person who’s lived within various restrictions. But, as the story progresses,  you’ll understand that actually she’s a character who is highly curious, and also has an adventurous spirit. People tend to think that she’s dull and lacks vigour, but it’s soon understood that up to this point, in reality, her actions are coming from a place of being shackled. Playing the transformation of such a character was very interesting.

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Della Arc Reviews: The Spear of Selene or THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES, GOD OF HOMEROTIC SUBTEXT OUT OF MYTH!

Hello all you happy people and welcome back to my coverage of the Della arc! It’s our last 2017 episode before the Finale, and it’s a huge one as we delve into a fan faviorite that introduces a pair of fan faviorites, a drum of tzatkiki sauce worth of gay,  an asshole so odious getting sent to the bowls of hades and laughed at for all enternity after being cast out by eveyrone he knows really was getting off light, and at last some plot progression on this arc. At the time it aired mind you at this point Dellas been a beloved cast member for three years, and we’ve known what happened to her for longer than that. 

At the time though.. it’d been 8 MONTHS since the Great Dime Chase. Let that sink in. The Della reveal was the biggest hook of an already exceptional pilot: It not only promised to flesh out a character who’d had all of one story in the comics at this point in present day, but solve the mystery of why she was gone. Not only that but Scrooge and Donald’s feud clearly stemmed from this exact moment. And the first full episode in the arc confirmed it: Della had taken whatever “The Spear of Selene” was and apologized to Scrooge for it. So why had she taken it, why did Donald blame scrooge, why did Scrooge not blame himself, at least outwardly, where was she, what was the spear of selene...

As I pointed out last time airing order didn’t help and due to airing the arc episodes really close together, gave the impression the arc would not only move fast but take up more of the season than it did. In practice both arcs take up a fourth of the season not including the finale, which would take both up to about a third. The expectation on how much of the season would be taken up by the arc.. was on Disney for airing things badly. I will give credit where it’s do as they moved this episode up in the order to try and make up for it (and give themselves a huge mid season opener).. but then for some reason shoved the last episode before last crash, ie. the only one they coudln’t move, way back to right before that episode. “ Here’s an actual photo of the person who made this decision

As I said they did get better next season with only a few swaps and only for good reason. So props. 

HOWEVER.... this episode still has some  flaws with pacing and revealing info, with or without Disney drunk driving the schedule. The wait between episodes in this plot is an episode LONGER in production order... and dosen’t move the plot forward by much. I will get to that when the time comes.. and that DESPITE this treatment of the fans.. this episode is still one of the seasons best. How are both things true? Join me under the cut to find out. 

Thunderstormy to be precise and the Sunchaser is natrually encountering loads of turbulence with Launchpad barely holding int here while Donald’s buffeted around the back. Why Donald’s with them... 

But it’’s one of his only five starring episodes in the season, out of 9 appearances total the rest of which are cameos.  Yeah now seems as good as time as any to talk about Season 1′s Donald Duck problem. 

See Donald was promoted as a major part of the series, rightly so since he was reduced to a guest star for the 87 series due to a combination of Disney not wanting to overexpose the characters, people possibly not being able to understand his voice and thus making plots hard to understand, and Tony Anselmo being new to the roll at the time. So the reboot went all out promoting the fact Donald would be in it, front and center and gave him TWO character shorts to the rest of the casts one. Disney really went out of their way to show he’d be in there so as a certified Donald Fanatic, I was sure he’d actually be in the show a lot and on the adventures a lot. The crew were not blameless as both promotional arts featured him. Launchpad and Beakly conversely were asbent, so the impression given by all of this was that Donald would be central to the series and in a lot of episodes, given equal focus to scrooge and the kids. 

This.. didn’t happen as you all know. Instead as stated he’s up front and center for 5 episodes, and makes cameos in others, but generally is hardly around. Now there is KINDA an excuse to this as he doesn’t want to adventure, be in the mansion or any of that.. but it’s a REALLY weak one. He still at least could’ve made more cameos, the fact he was working on the boat all that time isn’t made clear till last crash, and his two spotlight episodes both have him dragged along on the adventure anyway, so it’s not like his not wanting to be there meant he woudln’t be forced to join in anyway. There were ways to include him, still have him in a supporting role instead of leaving him back at the mansion.. and even the second episode proved there was still comedy to be mliked from that.. and pathos don’t forget the pathos. So yeah this was easily the biggest mistake of the season and one season 2 largely corrected: He got four dedicated plots, and was around a decent amount in the first half of the season and while he DID get shot up to the moon... it was for valid reasons. They wanted to focus on Della and the kids, give her room to breathe as a brand new major addition to the show, and thus him being around and the elephant in the room of his and scrooge’s feud that was never dealt with on screen, would’ve distracted from that. And even with that they still gave him a focus episode that somehow added more depth and MASSIVELY advanced the main plot, and a sizeable roll in the finale. Season 3 likewise had things better: while he shows up as much as in season 1, the episode count is lower by one, and he’s a major part of the plot in every one BUT Last Christmas, with four of those having the spotlight on him in some way. They eventually did figure out how to use him far more ballanced. So yeah credit where it’s do it got MUCH better, but he still felt like a recurring character in his own series, that was still bad, and I still needed to give out about it. 

But Webby and Dewey have a mission even if Dewey dosen’t quite get what’s going on so they flip a switch to turn on a warning light of some kind forcing Launchpad to make an emergency landing on a gorgeous tropical island. To Huey’s amazement, as the place was apparenlty only a myth, though naturally the guidebook did have it’s aproximate location listed... Ithaquack, home of the gods. Naturally Scrooge and Donald want to leave as soon as possible for reasons we’ll get into but Launchpad , for once is being a responsible pilot “Better safe than.. something right? Scrooge is of course irate that Launchpad picked NOW of all times to be safe, and the Kids.. don’t listen because Huey sees a beautiful realm of myth, Louie sees a beach vacation and Dewey and Webby.. have work to do. Webby eventually fills Dewey in on why their here, having wrongly assumed he got why they were going to a mythical greek island. As Dewey delightfully puts it later “Don’t assume I know anything. “ So she pieces it together for him: Selene was the greek goddess of the moon... Della took the SPEAR of Selene. Ergo this island is the best place to find the Spear and failing that, Selene herself to get more info on it and Della. 

So we have our two plots. Scrooge and Donald dealing with their pasts and the gods, and Dewey and Webby diving into his mom’s past. And unlike the last review where a genuinely unsettling story about an abuse victim forced to manipulate her girlfriend not going into a murder vault was paired with Louie having to deal with a Sasquatch while Huey catches a case of Dewey’s stupidity somehow, these two plots are perfectly paired: Their both perfectly thematically connected, both dealing with the past, Della’s absence and Scrooge and the Twins past encounters with the gods.. but both being self contained outside of that, entirely unconnected but stilll necessary to be in the same episode. THIS is how you do two plots. But since they don’t really synch up again till the end, let’s cover each one at a time shall we?

“What if My Mom was a Bad Person?” 

The plot is pretty straight forward but expertly done: Dewey and Webby first check your standard Zelda dungeon which apparently has a cursed weapon at the end. We also get an utterly adorable and sweet shot of Webby comforting Dewey after he’s clearly shook from it. Awwww. Turns out it’s the SWORD of Selene. and quickly turns into a game of put the Cursed Sword back before we all die. 

Next up is a monster who nearly kills both protecting it’s spear.. the spear of POSIDEN. (Look at meeeeee). And since they aren’t going to be on a boat that isn’t a house boat anytime soon, they don’t need that and the monster cheerfully redirects them, with Dewey apologizing for calling it ugly. 

So all pretty standard stuff for the show and really good stuff.. but it’s the building tension underneath that truly makes the episode and leads to one hell of a climax for this plot. All the while Dewey is DESPERATE for some explination for his mom’s disapperance that isn’t her betraying Scrooge, maybe returning the spear because it was cursed or getting eaten by a monster. Just ANYTHING but the mounting and horrifying suspicion.. that his mom was a bad person who destroyed her family and betrayed her uncle and laughed all the while. Webby.. does not help, backing that side of things and constantly voicing hte idea Della betrayed Scrooge, so obsessed with solving the mystery of her life.. but so unfamilliar with people she dosen’t see the very real toll this is taking on her best friend. To her she’s just making a logical counterpoint.. to him it’s just another idea in his head about the way his mom could’ve betrayed everyone she cared about. 

So that climax is where it explodes. Our heroes find a scale model of ithaquack (Complete with Tiny Maniticore! It’s so cute Webby just wants to slay it)  and an opening.. with an ominous message about incurring the wrath of the god seemingly conforming the worst. So Webby prepares to find out the whole story.. only for Dewey to stop her. No one’s finding this out, whatever it is, no matter how far they’ve come. And given this is the biggest mystery of her life and she simply dosen’t understand WHY Dewey dosen’t want to know.. both sides are ready to fight for this. And Webby DOES try to back him down, pointing out he really can’t beat her in a fight. But Dewey’s already grown leaps and bounds form the pilot and is working smarter not harder. Beat Webby, who spent a good chunk of her life being honed into the most badass child on the parent, one who can take on several of scrooge’s worst foes one on one? Not on his life. But hold her off long enough for the gate to close? He can do that. 

So the result? One of the best fights of the series... and given the sheer amount of great ones we’ve gottten since this one it still says something it holds up THIS well. It’s an even, furiously paced fight, with Dewey using every advantage he has including tossing said manticore to keep up, but not slowing down one bit. It’s heartbreaking to see the two come to this but it’s an delight to watch. Webby DOES win eventually, though time’s running out to get in and she finally asks WHY. And  while the stakes have been crystal clear for both this whole time.. we get them laid out in the most painful way for both. 

Webby: We're so close to the truth! Why won't you let us find it?! Dewey: Because...*his voice cracks* what if my mom was a bad person?

It hits VERY hard. For Webby this has been a puzzle something to solve the greatest achivment of her life, her chance to make her mark... and her best friend just wanted to abandon it. But in one swift response, he disarms all of that.. and makes her see how insnstivie she’s been: He may not know his mom.. but he can’t bear the thought she was a bad person. That she left or WORSE, because she didn’t care about him, or scrooge or ANYONE. Knowing nothing is better than knowing she was a monster. 

Webby realizes what she’s been doing to her friend and is horrified and offers to back out. The answers.. aren’t worth destroying her brother. But her willingness to back down.. finally gets Dewey to see the light. His fear was valid.. but at the end of the day,  it’d never go away. it’d just keep eating him for the rest of his life, every time she was mentioned or he found something else out he’d just wonder if it was a lie and wonder wht he COULD’VE learned this day. And if Webby’s willing to sacrifice THIS MUCH to give him peace of mind... then he can sacrifice that peace of mind for the truth, for her, and for himself. So he pulls them inside. 

Inside they find Selene who suprises them.. and is then confused. Their not della. Also I guarantee mentally she’s thiking “Thank me I didn’t do it naked this time. “. After some confusion as to who this is, Webby explains that IS Selene, and Dewey begs for answers about the spear... only to find out she dosen’t have one. Nope. The sword seen before and a SPHERE, yes.. but no Spear. So the poor boy breaks down, back to square one. It’s hard not to see why... all this effort, all of this sacrifice.. and he’s no closer than when they first set down. 

Selene does help though... giving him an idea of who his mom WAS: one of her closest friends (And let’s face it  Della named the ship after Selene and Selene casually uses Della’s shower. If they didn’t go out at least once, I am an outer god. And I very much am not and they very much banged hard. Goodnight. ) , a good person who brought fun to everyone, and loved her family more than anything. Wether she betrayed Scrooge or not, she wasn’t a bad person. And her own orb shows it showing Della in her prime, brightly smiling next ot her family. Selene encourages the boy not to give up, that his mom always loved a mystery.. and he can solve this one and gently hugs the sobbing child.. with Dewey quickly pulling webby in. It’s genuinely touching and a satisfying ISH ending. 

The ish... is because while this is a VERY good plot, i’ll gush more about it at the end, it does have one supreme flaw: the mystery dosen’t progress. And with the huge gaps between this episode and hte next one, in BOTH airing orders... it’s unforgivable to not have EITHER plot give us any hints about what happened. I don’t ask for much, but they could’ve found a clue in the sphere Dewey got, or saw a memory of her that brought up the next place they look, just something a little. While it’s still a very fine story, the main plot suffers a bit by having one of the ONLY three episodes delving into the della mystery before it’s fully revealed in sunchaaser have almost no progress. Della was probably a good person, which comes from her ex who clearly still loves her so that’s not really reliable, and the spear isn’t literal. While the lack of progress works for the story in the episode itself.. it comes at the cost of any actual plot progression. We end up exactly where we started and have to wait SOME TIME before we get to the next spot on the tour. Well we did, you guys will find out Monday or Tuesday depending on if the finale goes up in the morning or Disney holds it till the actual airing. Please don’t you bastards. Point is it’s  VERY good plot, but it’s hampred by not really progressing the arc. 

The arc progression for this storyline is painfully slow, and tha’ts not on disney. In either order there’s a MASSIVE gap of 15+ episodes between what we learned in the great dime chase and what we learn in castle mcduck. It’s sloppy writing and I expect better from this team, especially since the Lena plot the same season is far tighter paced: each one builds a bit, both on Lena as a character (Why she’s doing this etc), her development as a person, her relationship with webby growing and Magica and her growing more and more spiteful with one another. They could’ve had at least ONE MORE subplot to build this up, especially since we really dind’t need the sasquatch episode but just.. didn’t for whatever reason and it’s still frustrating.  But as always credit where it’s due.. the next two seasons were better about it. 

Season 2 while not perfect, and we’ll get to it’s plots someday.. and I do say plots as not alternating between the two plots for season 1 was a mistake if a well meaning one as not to drive up the price for Kev but for future refrence if any of you want me to cover an arc for something I WILL have to cover all of it or any adjacent to it that flow into it. Point is they move faster and both Glomgold and Louie’s are pretty lowkey and low stakes so while enjoyable, their not moving incredibly fast dosen’t hurt the show. And the Moon plot has the best pacing of the three and possibly of the series plots period: We get filled in on Della fairly quick, getting answers on her WAY faster, get introduced to the moon and it’s people right away, get a whole episode on them, and the most importantly in sharp contrast? She returns HOME halfway into the season. 

I will probably go into this again when I get to nothing will stop della duck but Season 1′s pacing and general wisdowm made me think she wouldn’t get home anytime soon and she’d return in the finale. Instead? We get a whole half a season fleshing her out further, seeing her connect with her kids, all that good stuff, WITH an episode advancing the moon arc, without that arc feeling unimportant, but still having the slow pacing. 

Season 3 meanwhile while again not without bugs, the last few episodes before the finale having no real build up to it really wasnt a good idea and I question why these two episodes were the ones leading into it, has two seemingly barely related plots.. that EFFORTLESLY merge into one, with one hell of a huge twist in impossibin that ratchets up the stakes. I don’t know how it’ll payoff.. but we’ll see. 

So they did get better, i’m still hard on it because it happened.. but I will never stop stressing how this crew usually corrected a mistake. If they fucked up, they LEARNED FROM IT, course corrected, and made it better and they listened to US. IN the good way, not letting fans run the series but listening to valid concerns and adapting to them. And given how fucking rare that is and how hard it must’ve been with the tight schedule, I.. I really appricate it and i’m going to miss it. And I can’t think of a segue so enjoy this picture of a turtle hitting a trapper in the face with a bat instead. 

“Someone Always Gets Hurt”

So let’s take it back a few hours. Hit it boys!

Donald tries getting the boys back on the ship, clearly fearing something coming for him.. and we soon meet that something. Yes it’s the hero of legend, the stork out of myth, the star of a LOT of Donald Duck Slash FanFiction only half of which he wrote, STORKULES!

In case I didn’t make it clear when I reviewed New Gods on the Block! I love this guy. He reminds me a LOT of the marvel version: Boisterious , horny (if in a far more pg version), Gay (Pansexual for the marvel version), flawed but still immensley likeable. Stork is a bit diffrent, a bit more naive, a bit peppier and entirely blind to the fact his father is a terrible person. But my love of the marvel herc means Stork was an easy sell for me and Chris Dimatopolis’ performance is second to none, only topped in this series by his later work as Darkwing where he got a bit more range than “Joyous ham who wants to bang”. Also I’m 100% convenced he’s made this memetic expression to donald at some point... 

If someone hasn’t redrawn that with Storkules yet, we have failed as an internet. And if someone has please show me. 

His crush on Donald is also endearing even if I don’t ship the two. And if your curious as to why it’s simple: Storkules is attracted to a version of Donald that no longer exists. Storkules craves a Donald whose a brave daring hero who loves adventure. And while still a brave hero when the situation calls for it as this episode will bare out.. he just.. dosen’t have the passion for adventure he did as a kid. While a LOT of that is loosing his sister for a decade, even once he makes peace with that and later gets her back... he just wants a normal life. His greatest wish was for one. He apparenlty “wishes for this every day”. He dosen’t hate adventuering anymore and by season 3 has come to terms with the fact he’ll never get everyone else to stop.. but I also think it’s always been obvious he clearly wants to one day. To have a normal life, settle down, find a girl, and if she wants to get married. Get old , fat and happy. I honestly think that’s the direction the finale’s heading in judging from the previews. I don’t think he’ll ever stop entirely, his family life’s too insane for that.. but he just dosen’t want to keep going forever and Stork, being an immortal hero does. They want diffrent things entirely and that just won’t work. Though that’s also JUST me and if you ship them or have a way around that, feel free. This is just my opinon. 

Anyways Donald’s not happy, the kids are confused  and Scrooge. has problesm bigger than simply not knowing how to say i’m not into you.... aka Zeus, king of the gods and of all assholes. He was originally supposed to be a swan due to a certian myth.. but they realized since that myth is both really fucked up and really not for children to not do that because why the fuck would you. Point is Zeus in myth is an asshole, a rapist, a cheating husband, and a vengeful, petty dick and that’s with barely any knowledge of Greek Myth on my part. He’s played by Micheal Chiklis whose famous for The Comissh and the Shield.. but whose famous to me for playing the ever loving Blue Eyed thing in the Tim Story Fantastic Four movies.. and honeslty, at least till marvel takes a crack at it soon, is the best screen version of the character. Look the film is flawed and I don’t remember a lot of it.. but his stuff in it just NAILS the character perfectly, at least the first one, and while the look is.. eh, he was the perfect casting. He just wasn’t in the right movie. So he’s naturally awesome here as history’s greatest douchebag. 

As for why Zeus is pissed at him unlike say Donald (The whole Spear of Selene fiasco) or Magica (Who while even worse than Zeus still lost her brother because of his callousness), or others he’s wronged.. Scrooge did absolutely nothing wrong here. During a beach party Storkules intiates, he reveals he used to be king of the beach and loved and worshipped by the people of ithaquack, which last time the adult ducks visited was a lovely hideaway for heroes. Scrooge naturally did a bunch of heroic and cool stuff, and upstaged him, and then bested him in various games and what not. Zeus claims they ran off because of this and because they didn’t want to party with a god bested by a mortal.. but scrooge reveals pottery showing it’s because Zeus threw a temper tantrum aka “a year long lightning storm”. So yeah for once all Scrooge did was just upstage someone who was already objectively horrible and who brought all of htis on himself. Scrooge even points it out perfectly “They didn’t leave because they liked me, they left because they didn’t like YOU. “ 

Pissing off the god who already didn’t like you for stupid reason goes about how you’d expect and when Storkules tries to cool things down by suggesting a game, Zeus turns it into a contest. His son against Scrooge’s nephews. Because he uh dosen’t want to lower himself. Yeah that’s it, totally not that Scrooge would kick his ass and then fucking kick his ass. Yeah that’s the ticket. 

So our boys don Toga’s, and gear up for the first challenge: grabbing the bag of winds. In case you thought Spongebob just made that up. Zeus of course opens it so Donald can’t just leave, but Huey simply thinks his way out and wins , Zeus demands best 2/3 and we soon get a montage of various events from chariot racing to sculpture where we get our title picture, lest you thought I was kidding abotu Storkules obession with donald. I mean there’s subtextually having a character have a crush on another and then ther’es making a naked muscular statue of him. I.. I don’t even have a joke here. He made a naked muscular statue of Donald. The only way they could be less obvious without just coming outright and saying it was if hte statue was of hima nd storkules making out. And i’m 100% sure Frank, Matt and Dana, yes Dana Terrace was involved in this one i’m as unsurpised as you are, only didn’t do that because Disney said no. 

Zeus declares one final round because he’s tired of this..e ven though he CLEARLY won the last one while Donald once again tries to just leave and Storkules finally calls him on it wondering why he’s given up adventuring and wondering what della would say if she could see him like this, having just given up and not caring anymore about any of ths stuff.  “Well she can’t! Someone always gets hurt....”

And that one very sharp and painful line both outlines Donald’s arc here, and for the season, and makes it VERY clear why he retired and why I felt like he was already on his way and the spear of selene was simply the final straw. He gave up.. because he was just tired of it. Tired of being the one who got hurt.. and devistated when it wasn’t him that time. When he lost his sister for what he felt was NOTHING. Sure hte stars would be great but they’d done everything and gone everywhere..w asn’t.. wasn’t that enough/ Couldn’t they just be done? Couldn’t he just stop. The spear gave him an excuse to do what he always wanted, but it also caused him to harden up and view EVERYTHING about his old days of adventuring as bad when like most things i’ts not that simple., There were good times, sunshine, giant sized gay men obessing over you.. okay maybe the last part isn’t a plus in his book, but point is there was good and his arc is seeing that and realizing he can’t just cling to his pain. He has to let go so he can move on heathliy. 

As for said final challenge Zeus tasks the boys and Storkules with stealing the golden fleece from a little girl. While this is part of a whole scheme... he undereistmaed his son’s valour and Storkules is naturally sent spinning over having to steal from a child and is sent into a crisis. Louie however has no such qualms, as he is a children.. and he’s also louie.. but as he tries to the child starts singing. As Scrooge puts it “nothing good happens when creepy children start singing. “ Very true, it’s usually a sign freddy kruger’s about to show up or your  about to be taken by a miltiary orginzation obssed with The Doctor. 

The boys plug their ears.. and Zeus’ plan becomes horrifically clear. Turns out he had no real interest in an actual contest this time, and has the child take control of Storkules to murder them. And gives the doucheist shrug imaginable when his OWN SON IS BEGGING HIM NOT TO MAKE HIM MURDER SOME CHILDREN. 

Scrooge naturally gets involved. Meanwhile Donald is trying to escape the lightning cage Zeus is using to make sure no one leaves... when he hears the boys cries of terror. He may hate this kind of thing.. but there’s one thing and only one thing that can make him snap back into who he used to be like it was yesterday. And that’s harming his boys. So Donald snaps into action and it’s a glory to see as Scrooge snaps back with him “Just like old times”. The two once again get a little closer to reconclisation by wrestling a golden pansexual to prevent him from brainwashdely murdering two children. God I love this show and this job. 

Huey however is more of the aim for the head sort and Louie simply uses his natural talent to talk the siren into working with him, with him as her agent. As he puts it Zeus just wants to use her.. he wants to use her too.. but to make them BOTH rich. She agrees, Louie wins, and Donald finally accepts storkules is his friend. Scrooge TRIES to use this to mend fences with Zeus.. but Zeus being a petulant dick wants another game and Scrooge simply throws a game of billiards or something like it to get this over with. 

So we get our wrapup. Dewey and Webby return, and Storkules and Donald say their goodbyes. Donald finally admits he’s his friend.. and in that one act finally admits he can’t just bury his past because parts of it are painful. And as Storkules puts it he may be done with adventure.. btu adventure’s not done with him. He’s got more of his old self in who he is now than he thought. Dewey also accidently wins and our family finds launchpad took the plane apart. There.. there’s no real ending. I can only assume Selene said knock this shit off when she found out or beakly later came in guns blazing. I don’t know. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is excellent. It has it’s fault: there’s no plot progression, and the ending is just stupid and is the only one of the series that feels like nothing was resolved. That being said.. the rest of the episode makes up for it. It’s filled with great gags as usual.. but the real meat is the character work. Dewey’s worries about his mom, and Donald’s attempt to literally leave his past behind, it’s really amazing stuff that elevates the episode past it’s flaws and into one fo the series best. Wheras revisting Other Bin reminded me it had a bad subplot that drug it down.. revisiting this one showed me just HOW near perfect it is with only a few things holding it back. Even with the dispaoitnment factor.. this one’s still excellent, with Ben, Kate and Tony all at the top of their games. Great stuff. 

Next Time on this Arc: Dewey has to face the future when the truth comes out. And Scrooge.. bitches with his dad for half the episode. Sure beats his dad sadly btu sweetly passing on to be with his wife huh?!

Next time on this blog: Amphibia time! Speaking of facing the consequences of lying to your family, Hop Pop’s FINALLY forced to face hiding the Box from Anne, and we also get an ivy episode. Super fuckin shooters. 

If you liked this review, consdier joining my patreon, link’s in the blog and next stretchgoal is a darkwing duck episode a month. Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure. 

[jamieatthebarricade]

Maids to Wives

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 1/? : Aboard The Ship

April 17th, 1619, Claire’s POV

“I feel like my innards are swasheling ‘bout” Geillis hacked out her dinner for the 4th time this week. I tried my best to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders lightly, but the smell of old fish and stomach acid from the other’s puking made it hard to keep anything down. Most of us hadn't been on a boat before, let alone in the middle of the ocean where the monstrous waves led to monstrous waves of sea sickness. It took all my strength not to succumb to the churn in my own stomach. Poor Geillis didn't have the same strength as I.

Geillis was one of the first women I met on this voyage. Me and her bonded over our love of herbs and our older age. She has become one of my closest friends on this trek to find my future husband. 

My Husband. The word had only rolled off my tongue a few times in my life, but suddenly it was my entire world. It was all the ladies talked about, all they thought of,  all they could remember dreaming about. But, the rest of the women on the ship were different from me, and from Geillis too: they were young, and they were trained. Geillis and I were the eldest of all the brides -she being 31 and I being 27- and didn’t receive the same education as the rest of the girls. I myself spent my childhood traveling Europe with my Uncle Lamb, not learning how to be a good wife that could keep house. Perhaps if my parents hadn’t died when I was so young they could have instilled the passion for housekeeping in me, but a childhood under my Uncle’s influence assuredly led to the demise of any interest in such things. He even tried to enroll me in a dame school, but I refused. Can you imagine? Years of learning how to sew and knit and cook. I couldn’t think of a more revolting thing. I had longed to continue to travel with Uncle Lamb, as his career as an antiquarian required him to do, and so he had no choice but to keep me by his side. I imagine him beside me now, as if this voyage was just like any other: exploring new lands with curiosity and excitement. 

As Geillis continued to empty her stomach, I scanned the cabin, seeing some of the younger girls on the ship playing a card game. Their eyes lit a bright light inside of them when they got a good hand, and their smiles sparkled like pearls in the faint lantern light. Despite the ship muck they resided in, they still radiated beauty and grace. That and their training would make them excellent wives. 

Perhaps I should have let Uncle Lamb enroll me in that Dame school, I thought as I turned back to check on Geillis. Even though I got to choose the man I married, there was no guarantee that my husband would keep me when he found out how many skills I lacked. But no man could be so cruel, could he? While it made no sense to wish for a kind husband, I still did, as did all the women. I could only hope that my husband would be caring, smart, and understanding (and have a face and body with equally desirable qualities, but both together was the most rare of all).

A tug on Geillis’s hair called me back to reality. It seemed the sickness had faded for a moment or two, enough for her to speak. “Claire, I swear to ye, if I don’t make it on this ship, bury me in the new world. I dinna care if my flesh sticks up the whole bloody ship, I wilna be thrown to the sea, like a bone to a dog” 

“You’re not gonna die Geillis, it’s only 3 more weeks till the captains said we'll see land. If you die on this ship, I swear to you I’ll kill you” My remark managed to stifle a chuckle from Geillis’s sickly body. She smiled at me, and then her moment of peace was over: she went back to being sick almost immediately. I never found myself in the comfort of women, but Geillis was like a sister to me. Spending a month at sea in tight quarters did that to a friendship. 

Geillis wasn’t the only friend I made on the ship. To my left sat 15 year old Mary Hawkins, the youngest of the maids. Mary was just… small. A small frame and small face were the most startling of her features, and the month on the ship caused an almost deadly thinning of her figure. When she spoke, the words came in small stutters, and any movement made her jump. When I first saw her I wondered how Mary could have thought she could survive the trek across the ocean; that was, until I found out being a maid was her father’s scheme. After finding this out, a sisterly urge surged inside me, and I was her protector on the voyage ever since. And as her protector, I saw her shivering as I helped Geillis, and moved my arm from Geillis’s back to around Mary’s shoulders.  She gladly nestled herself into my side, but the shaking didn’t stop.

“A-am I going to die here, C-Claire?” She stuttered out. I quickly shook my head and turned to look down at her. I saw tears running down her face, but she didn’t look me in the eyes. She kept her gaze on the wall across from us, where a woman who looked the most sick of all rested her head. She didn’t look alive anymore, but with closer examination I saw her chest rose ever so slightly. I made a mental note to check on her later, if she hadn’t already died. So far, 34 women have died. While the cause of death varied from maid to maid, it was all from the same sickness that plagued our ship since the beginning of the second week aboard. Not all the women were victims, but the ones that were died swiftly and in immense pain. But, for every maid that died here, the same amount of men were left without a bride, and that would mean another wave of maids. I couldn’t imagine putting more girls through this hell. I was fortunate to be well, and above all else, alive. 

“No, you’re not. You’re gonna leave the ship with us and meet your husband.” I rubbed Mary’s shoulders gently. I felt her breath loosen, and she slumped slightly. Good, I thought. She fell asleep

I then stayed with Geillis until her nausea faded. After cleaning her up using my dress as a rag, I laid her down and watched her drift to sleep. I touched my hand to her forehead, and was thankful for not feeling any unusual temperature. I removed my arm from Mary’s shoulders, and slowly set her down near Geillis’ head. I tucked a small bag of grain beneath both of their heads, and thankfully none of them awoke from their slumber. I looked across the cabin and saw the pale woman from before. She hadn’t changed positions, but her chest still rose and fell like before. I moved in front of her, and placed my hand on her forehead. Hot. Burning hot. I shook her awake, and when she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot. 

“Will... you tell my husband that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it” The sentence flowed out like any other statement, but the meaning behind it was darker.. She was a young woman, nearly 23 I guessed. Her hair was a soft blonde, and she had a pleasing aura about her. I could also tell she was quite pretty, underneath the sweat and sickness. Her hair stuck around her face, but she had the complexion of a sheet of paper. She was transparent, the veins of her body stuck out harshly against her pale face. When she spoke, it came out in a low whisper, as if her body didn’t have the willpower to use any strength.

“I’m Faith” She flashed a quick but weak attempt at a smile. I wished there was something I could do, to give her the strength that had saved me these past weeks. I reached beside her to grab a rag, in hopes of maybe wiping away the heat, but she put her hands over mine.

“Make the new world good for us” She spoke, before closing her eyes. Everything happened so suddenly, I could barely register it all. The minute she closed her eyes, any color that was left in her face disappeared. The rising of her chest stopped, and a hand fell limply from mine. 

I removed myself immediately, and sat next to Geillis. She stirred in her sleep before sitting up, tired. She must’ve heard what had happened, because just as I sat down she put her arm around mine. I wanted to cry, to feel some kind of pity for the woman, but nothing came out. ‘You should mourn her’ my brain told me but how could I? I just met her.

I didn’t have time to be like this. In a few short weeks we would be on the island with the men, living in the new world. Instead of feeling pity, I felt a sense of guilt. Out of nearly 100 women, only a few would step off this ship and into a new life. And I was one of them. Why did I get the luxury? I wasn’t ever a quiet, obeying miss, and I don’t think I could ever be. Why did god and those above think me fit to take on the responsibility of marriage? Faith would’ve probably made a fantastic wife, but here she lies dead by my feet and I am still breathing.

These thoughts ran rampant in my mind, so much so they exhausted me, and I felt myself roused into a deep slumber, with Geillis’ arm still around me and the soft breathing of the living filling my ears, reminding me I was still alive, that we all were. We bore the weight and responsibility of those who didn’t live, it was our job to make the new world good and prosperous.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hello everyone! This is my first chapter of a fanfiction I’m looking forward to writing! I’m a fairly new author so if everyone could be kind/give solid constructive criticism, that would be amazing! I’m looking forward to hopefully releasing more chapters later on!

[ettawritesnstudies]

(meant to send this earlier my bad)

For the OC ask game

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection?

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why?

39. Introduce any character you want

50. Give me the good ol' OC talk here. Talk about anything you want

Thank you so much for the ask! :)

30. Enne has a collection of trinkets and knick knacks she keeps because they're pretty or comforting or sentimental, so that definition absolutely extends to stuffed animals. Hannah and Cecelia both have not-so-secret collections piled on their beds.

32. I don't play horror games, but I did listen to the magnus archives so I'm going to interpret this as "which of my OCs would best fit the role of Jon Sims?", the answer being Madelyn 10000%. She's got the tragic flaws, paranoia, and general "fuck around and find out" energy to fit the role. Its a good thing I'm not writing a that kind of story for her, but fantasy and horror have a terrific overlap in how they both deal in possibilities - the wondrous or dreaded "what if" so I'm sure Laoche might be blurring the lines just a bit.

39. This OC isn't WIP related, they're a dnd character from an Eberron campaign I'm playing with my college friends and they're such a menace. I normally play the socially-awkward mom-friend caster of the group because my friends are all so chaotic, but rn I'm an arcane trickster rouge and the chance to lie through my teeth and sneak into high security factories is just.. so fun?

Anyhow I should actually introduce the character lol. Their name is Min, and they're a changeling that grew up with a noble kid named Veri, but they had a bad fallout years ago. Veri went into the city's politics/police while Min ended up on the street, and started establishing a crime ring to get back at him. Their multiple personas all supposedly report back to "Larua the Leige of Theives" (who of course is also Min), and Veri's become a Javert kind of figure dedicated to hunting down this crime boss. They've been going at this game of cat-and-mouse for *years* and now Min is recruiting the other players to her ring to plan a heist! I rolled three nat 20s in a row in our first session and it was a blast

50. ooooooohhhhh.

I've been kind of obsessed recently with figuring out Luca's character arc for Storge because in my first draft it's kind of there in the subtext but there's so much more I could do with it if I gave his internal monologue and emotions more page time. He's caught between these two virtues - duty/responsibility to his family, lying low, not rocking the boat, working hard, protecting his siblings, and ensuring they have a peaceful future, OR honor/justice, living up to his potential, using his magic to help his community, and resisting the Atilan tyranny.

The way the society works, there's no easy way to have both, and he has to choose between these two equally important values in different situations. He's such a kind person who's been broken too many times to count and he desperately wants to do the right thing but there's no clear answer. As soon as chapter 2, he shows that he's selfless and wouldn't hesitate to put his own life on the line for strangers, but he doesn't want his family to do the same because he doesn't want them to get hurt. It's kind of hypocritical, because they don't want him to die either, but I think his heart is in the right place? He makes a lot of mistakes, but he keeps getting back up again, vowing to do better and I just really love him for that. I hope that made sense! It turned into a philosophy ramble lol

Send me some OC Quetions while I study for midterms?

[tanoraqui]

I am a huge sucker for one character being chill about a situation while everyone else is freaking out, so if you’re up to it would you tell us about This Is Normal?

@tolrais​ asked: Sizhui genii locorum!

okay so i must disappoint bc that wasn’t actually a jesting “This Is Normal” - let’s talk genii locorum, known more commonly in the singular: genius loci, the “intellects of [the] place”. In this case: what if it was perfectly common that if cultivation was practiced in roughly the same way in roughly the exact same place, by roughly the same bloodline, for long enough, power built up in the land itself? Power and something resembling thought, in the slow way of geography? (That’s why it tends to attach to a bloodline - individual humans, even cultivators, disappear so fast on a geological scale.) 

Say that each generation, the land picks a favorite to bestow its power to - one person, one generation, at a time, only. Others of the blood may access it, but to a far lesser degree. Petty effects. More if the land is partial to them. The true wielder of the land is, of course, traditionally the sect leader - and if they’re not at first, they’re probably gonna be appointed as such.

Say the powers are elemental, roughly, Say their personalities are shaped by the land itself - lakes or mountains, hills or plains - and the continuous philosophy of those who cultivate (upon) them. They choose their favorites based on who most matches what they are, and the strongest sect leaders are those with the greatest affinity for their land.

Or, lemme put it like this: 

Lan Wangji was always GusuLan’s favorite, unwavering and fastidious, aloof and righteous and eternal as the cool mountain peaks. Its cool shrouded him; its ice turned Bichen’s edge even sharper. Even though he was far away in a land of fire, it flowed to him like a high-speed glacier when his father died - and he, panicking and desperate, denied it. 

It wasn’t the refusal that turned it away - though it’s true, one must actively accept a land’s power; it cannot be forced upon a person. But usually, in such a dispute, the wouldn’t-be recipient dies - in a fight between one human and an entire countryside over that human’s soul, it is acceptance or destruction. Instead, it was...well, the fact of refusal. The fact that he broke, that his gut instinct - resolute as ever - was the shirking of responsibility. That, GusuLan could not tolerate. It didn’t press the issue to destruction, because Lan Wangji wasn’t its chosen after all.

There was nothing, to be clear, wrong with Lan Xichen. He was a little warmer, but still beautiful and distant. He would bend, but his core was upright and unfaltering. He followed the rules to the letter. He was even closer, physically - and in that little cabin in which he was sleeping, hidden, he woke sharply from a restless sleep as the air around him turned to welcome ice.

Or like this:

Jiang Cheng was never YunmengJiang’s first choice. He wasn’t even its second choice. The lakes of YunmengJiang - bright and warm with sunlight, loud with the chatter of market crowds, sweet and beautiful with lotus seeds and petals, all over drowning-dark depths...how could they not fall in love with the boy their Jiang Fengmian bought home? How could the water not leap to follow his every gesture, whenever he went out upon it?

(Except that when he first felt it pressing at him with not just curiosity but love, he thought of Madam Yu’s clenched fist and Jiang Cheng’s yearning gaze, and he shoved it away as hard and fast as he could.)

Failing that, how could they not adore their eldest daughter, sweet and kind and welcoming to all, and protective enough to wield words like deadly blades? Once the land is cultivated to its own sentience, it doesn’t need to be a cultivator who bears its power...

(Except it does still need to be someone whose heart the doctors don’t worry over every time she does something more spiritually strenuous than meditate. And she cannot stay, she’ll explain one day, weeping, on a boat she’s rowed out to the middle of the lake herself. If it was just a matter of love - but they also need the alliance, or Lotus Pier, Yunmeng, YunmengJiang itself might be lost - )

So. Jiang Cheng wears all his deadliness on the surface and all his joy and welcome deep beneath, and YunmengJiang is the opposite. But at least he stays. Land moves on a geological time, and YunmengJiang more than most loves all its people, not just a select family. It can leap readily to the will of someone who stays and looks after them.

Or:

Agreement was universal that Nie Mingjue was a perfect bearer of QingheNie, mighty and stern and stubborn as the mountain granite. As tall, too, some would joke. It’s traditional for a Sect Leader to wear at all times a symbol of their land’s blessing - Lan Xichen’s headdresses always sparkle with a thin coating of ice; a lightly jeweled hip flask has been passed from Jiang to Jiang in which to hold lakewater. Upon taking title and land from his father, Nie Mingjue wears a circlet of rock on his brow, hard stone crafted with his own hands as though molding clay. 

Agreement was equally universal that Nie Huaisang was possibly the worst bearer of QingheNie in the clan’s entire history. Flighty where he should be staunch and stern, barely able (much less willing) to lift a blade, as flappable as one of his fans...as Sect Leader, he set a chunk of granite into the base of each one of those silly fans, but it was a public secret that the stone had been carved and smoothed by a stoneworker, not the Headshaker.

The mountains of Qinghe shook with grief on the day Nie Mingjue died, as they had for his father; grief and rage. The Unclean Realm itself shifted and nearly collapsed in several places - some of its famous defensibility came from being set into the mountainside itself, the back halls giving way to twisting tunnels running through the rock. Can you imagine how long one fighter with a saber can hold a single slim tunnel? Hidden ways, their secrets known only to the inhabitants; the deeper an enemy goes, the less likely they are to come out...

A single chip of granite launched across the room with fury can drive through a man’s eye and into his brain, killing him instantly, even with a fan trailing behind. Fortunately, it never needed to come to anything that gauche.

(It would have preferred Nie Mingjue, it really would, but even more than GusuLan, the last thing QingheNie has ever done is falter.)

So...

If the Burial Mounds had once been cultivated to a benevolent sentience and their power then corrupted, it’s been forgotten. But resentful and spiritual energy are two sides of the same coin, and the Burial Mounds yearn for company, for lives to call their own, just like any other land...but what sort of person has enough rage, vengeance, heartache, and loss to match them? Who could have enough strength of spirit to bear the touch of a land whose elemental power is death itself?

Trick question, we all know the answer to that. 

Good thing we got him, too, because defeating Wen Ruohan at the heart of the volcano he commands is a bitch and a half. (He wears a jagged crown of obsidian glass and Nie Mingjue will walk away with a burn on his face from the man’s touch.)

LanlingJin’s power is invested in light. Their Sect Leaders - or in Jin Ling’s case, Sect Heirs - carry a lantern at one hip, representative more than anything (one cannot cage light.) Or, you know, they just lowkey glow all the time - but that’s not convenient on a night hunt; you need something coverable. Jin Ling would have inherited it from his father, but instead it came directly from - you know, I so, so want to say his grandmother? But I don’t think Meng Yao, Jin Guangyao, would turn out quite the same were Jin Guangshan not exactly as Sect Leader as he in canon, and I’m loath to say Jin Sect is, like, particularly sexist or something to let both be true. So, grandfather it is, unfortunately. 

Jin Guangyao is jealous, but Jin Guangyao has too many secrets for bright LanlingJin. Maybe it would twist to suit him, with another couple generations dark and poisoned beneath the pretty lights, but not yet. Not even with how easily it’s gift can flow into illusions. Fortunately, LanlingJin is also the most gentle of the Great Sect Lands - perhaps weak, with how its family has been failing it, recently, in their stated intent. So Jin Ling can withstand its sudden flood even at the ripe age of two and a half.

It makes up for a little, for Jin Ling to have no memory of a time when he didn’t have the fierce, warm, bright affection of a coastal tower, busy city, and sun-drenched skies curled possessively around his soul. YunmengJiang bristles at the intrusion and mourns another loss (oh, YunmengJiang...at least it’s in accord with Jiang Cheng); and LanlingJin doesn’t like that its favorite so often strays so far. But family is important, both lands can reluctantly agree (in the manner of circling tigers, wary and territorial, thoughts not quite human.) They both want him loved.

...oh yeah, I was supposed to talk about Lan Sizhui, wasn’t I.

GusuLan would love that boy. It does love him, in its cold, discreet way. But it’s...complicated. It’s not Lan Sizhui’s fault. (Of the three, this is very much the AU least about Lan Sizhui.)

It’s the second battle of the Burial Mounds, as the second horde of corpses approaches. Wei Wuxian paces, mutters to Lan Wangji, "If I still had the land...but I don't know where it is. I can't hear it at all. I don't understand it."

This is not how Lan Wangji wanted to do this - though in fairness, he had no idea what would be a non-awkward way. He still doesn’t. Just a little louder than to be an answer to Wei Wuxian, he says, "Lan Sizhui."

"Yes, Huangang-jun?" The boy is at his elbow in an instant

Lan Wangji turns a little to include him in the conversation. He'd be gesturing if he was a man who made unnecessary motions. "Lan Yuan."

"Yes?" he repeats. 

Wei Wuxian stares at the both blankly.

"A-Yuan," Lan Wangji clarifies. He draws his guqin but he can't quite make eye contact with either of them.

Wei Wuxian gasps. He cups Lan Sizhui's very baffled cheeks (except something is a little familiar...) and peers at his face, turning it this way and that to check for familiar features. He peers deeper in a way that would be stunningly rude in anyone else (it’s still stunningly rude; they’ve all just come to expect that of Wei Wuxian) and likely impossible if there wasn't a shared affinity for what he seeks - but the bond is distant, so distant. Buried, smothered, bound.

(Lan Yuan, now Sizhui, has always felt like there was something he was missing, something he couldn't remember that was just out of reach. He thought it was the concept of parents or something like that, or maybe just a natural ennui that everyone had and didn’t speak of for propriety’s sake. He discarded it, because of course he had everything he could ever want.)

"A-Yuan..." Wei Wuxian looks at Lan Wangji, wondering, smoldering with love - and just the tiniest bit of reproach.

Lan Wangji looks away. It's a terrible thing to block someone off from their spiritual power, and it's a worse thing yet to block them off from the any power of a land they may bear. One is an insult to an individual, the other to the earth itself, almost as heretical as demonic cultivation. Su She, of course, has done both today, but only temporarily...and that’s a low bar to which to be compared.

But there was too much roiling in Wen Yuan when Lan Wangji found him, death and -

(You know what, I can’t decide: Did QishanWen’s smoldering lava pass to Wen Qing when no one closer was available, ceaseless fire matching ceaseless fire? Or were the Dafan Wens sufficiently distinct for long enough, far enough, that she was already taken? Is there DafanWen in its own right, high hills with the power of growth, from dainty flowers to ancient trees, twisting vines to healing herbs? 

...yes, I think so. 

But I also think they were close enough in blood, had spent enough time in the heart of the Nightless City, for some inheritance. So the reason no one stepped forward, at the Yiling Patriarch’s demand, to admit to killing Wen Ning was that...Wen Ning knew he was too weak, insufficiently greedy/ambitious for things to burn and build anew; he knew QishanWen was too quenched and dormant after its defeat to the Sunshot Alliance, and he was too far away and it was literally raining. He knew that to fight back would only bring pain down on more of their people. But even so, there was no one to step forward, because the man who dealt the killing blow burned screaming to ashes.

There were sparks left in the souls of each member of the blood left alive, but not enough to burst to flame. With that last death, QishanWen lay...dormant.)

(Until, maybe, almost all the rest of them were killed in the space of about 10 minutes. That must’ve sent a couple sparks flying.,,)

- so there was too much roiling in Wen Yuan when Lan Wangji found him. Verdant DafanWen was barely settled, still reeling from the loss of its favored daughter, the best healer in three generations. QishanWen sparked with new loss and ire, driving a fever. And the Burial Mounds, whose touch was death...

It is possible, for two lands to share a host. Boundaries are a human invention; the Earth is all one thing. Pride and territorialism are taught. And even if those have set in, they can certainly fight, in the infinite space of a human soul.

And the Burial Mounds loved that child. He wasn’t raging, he wasn’t mourning (except he was just starting to, now); but he wasn’t scared of them. Why would be be? The dead things that roamed it belonged to his Xian-gege; the living were his family; this land was his home.

But the Burial Mounds’ was the power of death itself, and A-Yuan wasn’t a teenager filled with enough determination to burn down the sun, he was three years old and scared. The extremely forbidden hasty ritual to (not cut it off, to late for that) hide it, bind it, bury it - this wasn't just for concealment. It saved his life.

Back in the present day, Lan Wangji says this with reluctantly raised eyes, and Wei Wuxian nods. Because oh boy does he know about that roiling spirit of death.

There's a horde of corpses approaching; they don't have time to be tender. 

"A-Yuan," says Wei Wuxian, swiping a thumb over his cheek as though to clear away a tear, and then dropping his hand. "Lan Sizhui, you trust us, right?"

"Of course?" Lan Sizhui glances uncertainly at Lan Wangji, head aching with memories about to surface.

Lan Wangji nods imperceptibly and starts to play - and it only takes a few strong chords, precisely chosen. It's always easier to break a wall than build it.

It's in QishanWen's nature to erupt but it's weak, dormant; it hasn't been home in over a decade and this boy has been trained to ice, not fire. It’s in DafanWen’s nature to flourish but it, too, is far from the earth of its body, and this is a place of death, not life. 

They are in the Burial Mounds, fifty steps from the blood pool that may as well be its heart. So the volcano stays dormant the grassy hills are quiet as ever, and the raging, too-long-stifled spirit of the Burial Mounds pours forth in whirling shadows that double Lan Sizhui's height. He gasps a scream at the weight of the sudden flood, at the tearing sensation in his soul (tearing open in a way that is right - last child of a dead clan remembering; lost child of a dead land coming home.) Several other people scream and point at the family meeting that had previously gone mostly unnoticed, in a corner of a Demon Suppression Cave. What is the Yiling Patriarch doing to that Lan disciple?!

The Burial Mounds are starting to turn on their only-just-realized child, whether they mean it or not, because their nature is death to all they touch. The Yiling Patriarch is standing forth, spreading his arms, and shouting, "Hey, jackass! Get back in here, we have more vengeance to wreak!"

The cultivation world watches (Lan Wangji catches a staggering Lan Sizhui) as with a sound like the rushing wind, shifting earth, screaming dead, it pours back into Wei Wuxian.

It’s just like before. It’s rage and pain and loss and vengeance and heartache. It’s Madam Yu’s hard eyes and the way Jiang Fengmian’s face shuttered when he heard the Core-Melting Hand was in Lotus Pier, before he even shoved them back in the boat; it’s Wen Ning’s broken form and Jin Zixuan’s, not fifty feet and ten months apart; it’s Wen Qing’s soft, I’m sorry, and thank you, and Jiang Yanli’s blood dripping down his arm. It’s the crack as the Tiger Seal shattered in his hand, or was that his own neck...

Wei Wuxian might be laughing, as he greets death like an old friend. But when he opens his eyes, it’s to a soft, “Wei Ying,” on the lips of his...Lan Zhan. Mourning whites sullied with the Burial Mounds’ (Wei Wuxian’s) dirt and blood. He’s holding up Lan Sizhui - A-Yuan, their son - and maybe Wei Wuxian is closer to a land spirit than human right now, or maybe he’s just hallucinating, but he swears he can see leaves uncurling behind the boy’s wide eyes. Wen Qing would be proud - if they get out of here alive, he’ll grow the most amazing things.

[give-seconds]

Back to You

Summary: You and Mark are all each other have, he’s easily the most important person to you. But something happens and you both are slowly separated, so you work your hardest to be accepted into a college in Korea so you can find your way back to a home with him again.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I just want to say thank you to anyone reading, I feel so lucky to have you all.

---Part 7

“Jaemin you are not going to believe what happened,” you say, sliding into the seat across from him in the library.

“What?” He asks, smiling as he looks up from his book.

“I found him.”

“Hm?” he hums. “Found who?”

“My friend from Canada, the one I told you about. The guy I came to Korea for.”

“Oh.” He closes his book, leaning back in his chair. “How was it? Was it how you thought it would be?”

You nod your head, feeling your smile grow wider as you think of the meeting. “He remembered me. He said he was happy to see me, that he missed me. I was so scared Jaemin, so scared.”

“Well I’m glad it went well, you were silly to think he wouldn’t want to see you.”

You nod your head, smiling down at your hands. “That’s what Donghyuck said.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, leaning his elbows on the table. “Is that the cute boy who showed you around town?”

“Not this again. You have problems, my friend.”

He laughs, smiling brightly. “It’s just my personality, take it or leave it.”

“Is leaving even an option?”

“Ha ha very funny. You wouldn’t last a day without me.”

“Try me.”

----

“So how’d it go?”

Falling back onto his bed, Mark lets the phone rest next to his head. “It went really well, how did you even get that setup?”

“I met her in a coffee shop, she was there at like five in the morning. I didn’t know who she was at first, something just felt familiar. So me being the person I am, sat across from her, and started a conversation. She told me she was from Canada and towards the end of the conversation I guess it just clicked.”

Mark nods his head, feeling a smile spread across his face. “Can you believe she did this? I mean she’s attending school in a foreign country, and it’s all for me.”

Mark chuckles slightly as his brother’s laugh filters through the speaker. “I think you just have that effect on people. Yuta has met you, what, once or twice and he’s ready to kill for you.”

He snorts, rolling onto his stomach and hugging his pillow. “I mean I was going to go back for her, but she actually made it happen. I was too scared to ask mom and dad to go back to Canada. And here she is, braving a whole new language and culture.”

“Are you,” Johnny hesitates. “Are you going to tell them she’s here?”

Mark sighs. He’s been thinking about this ever since he got home from touring the city with you and Donghyuck. He knows his parents didn’t like you, they made it painfully obvious after he had moved to Korea. And while they might not have the typical bond a parent and child have, he is very grateful for all that they have done for him. Lying just feels wrong.

“What do you think I should do?”

His brother sighs. “I don’t know man, I’ve never had a sister my parents dislike. But I mean how bad can it go if you do tell them? Y/n is a grown woman who is here on her own, it’s not like they can really do anything.”

“That’s true. But I mean, won’t it be too harsh?” Harsh in the fact that he would be reminding them that he loves someone else more than he loves them. “Like… yeah.”

“I think they love you, and if you say she’s important to you then they’ll slowly learn to accept that.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea. Or, and get this, I ignore it until the last second. Equally good idea if you ask me.”

His brother laughs, and Mark can see him shaking his head. “Whatever floats your boat, dude.”

“You know she was worried I wouldn’t want to see her,” Mark says, changing the subject. “I mean I think that’s another reason I didn’t try going back to Canada, I was worried she wouldn’t want to see me.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I was a jerk to her. A few months before the police came, I’d been ignoring her to the best of my abilities. And when she was put into foster care, I tried harder but not as hard as I should have.” He sighs, closing his eyes as the memories come back. He really is a horrible brother. “She had it way harder than I did, and I had the nerve to be more concerned about myself.”

“Minhyung, there’s nothing wrong with that reaction. You had just found out that your entire life was a lie, how else were you supposed to act?”

“But the same could be said for her, I mean it was her own father. I was all she had, and I let her down.”

“But she’s here. I can tell you she certainly isn’t here for me, judging by the fact she basically ran as soon as she realized it was me.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows, looking over to the phone laying on his left. “I mean I know you guys weren’t BFFs, but why would she run away from you?” 

There’s a short pause before Johnny sighs. “I said some pretty harsh things to her before we left, I regretted it as soon as we got here. It was a stupid, immature moment.”

“What did you say?” Mark asks, pushing himself up to sit against his headboard.

“I don’t know, I-” He sighs again. “I said something about how you’re not her brother, how she’s bad for you. That no matter what, she was going to be cut off from you.”

Mark never really liked talking about you to anyone, and when he did he always called you a friend from Canada. But hearing someone who knew how much you meant to him, someone who had heard him crying one night because he missed you so much, admit to threatening you. To say he felt betrayed is an understatement.

“Did you apologize?”

“Of course I did, setting up the meeting with you two was my apology. And she said she forgave me, she texted me today saying that. She said she wants to start over.” He pauses, taking in a breath. “I really am sorry, Minhyung. Not that it excuses what I said, but I think I was just jealous. Jealousy is an ugly thing.”

Mark doesn’t hear his brother nervous very often, a person like Johnny doesn't get nervous, so hearing him nervously rush his sentences is surprising.

“It is what it is I guess. Did she really forgive you?”

“Yeah, I can send you the screenshots if you want. What do you want me to do to make it up to her? I don’t want you to be mad at me Minhyung.”

“I’m not mad.” Is his immediate response. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

He hasn’t felt this in a long time, the overprotective feeling you get for a sibling. It’s something that used to suffocate him, something he wished more than anything he didn’t feel. It’s why he tried to push you away. If you can’t stop the feeling, stop putting yourself in situations to feel said feeling.

“You didn’t mean it, did you? I mean I know mom and dad stopped sending the letters, but you didn’t have anything to do with that did you?”

“No,” Johnny replies immediately. “I didn’t know until they told me months later. Everything else I said, I didn’t mean either. It all came from a place of hurt. I’m not trying to justify myself, but it was hard for me to see my younger brother happier with a stranger than with me. And I know now that that isn’t anyone's fault but Matthews. But I didn’t know it then. I unfairly blamed her and you have to believe me when I say I am truly sorry.”

And there it is, the truth he’s been hiding from. It’s his fault you went through so much.

Because he was scared, because he relied on you too much, you got hurt. It’s been like that your entire life, with your dad and his family alike. He turned a blind eye as his parents made subtle comments, reminding you you were in no way a part of his “family.” All because he was trying to kill that stupid protectiveness.

His therapist had told him it wasn’t his job to look after you, that you were your own person, and could look after yourself. How ridiculous is that? Yes, he wanted to stop. But hearing it from someone else - someone who didn’t know that even though he was trying to stop, he couldn’t - was wrong. His entire life, he had been looking after you, making sure weren’t hurt too badly. And now he’s just supposed to stop because he has better, more responsible adults in his life? You two were by far the most mature ones in the room.

“Mom and dad probably don’t see it like that, huh?”

His brother sighs. “Probably not. But like I said, they love you. So if you tell them she is important, I think they will learn to be okay with her. That’s what happened with me after all.”

He nods his head, letting a few seconds of silence pass. “Well you should get some rest, I’m sure you’re tired. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He mumbles dejectedly.

“Alright, good night Hyung. I love you.” They don’t normally say “I love you” to each other when they end a phone call, but it feels important to say now.

“Good night, love you too.”

And with that, the line goes dead.

Mark shakes his hair with his hand, groaning. Why does life have to be so hard?

Grabbing his phone, he goes to his text conversation with Donghyuck, clicking the last photo sent to him.

It’s a photo of you and him in front of some book store. It had been awkward for him to ask, he never asks to have photos taken of himself. Donghyuck’s comment of “why don’t you ever ask to get photos taken with me?” hadn’t helped his confidence either. But thankfully, you agreed as soon as he asked. And after some more complaints, Donghyuck had taken the photo.

The photo was worth the added drama created by both him and Donghyuck. Because now, he has something to remember you with. Sure, he has the letters you sent. But those were tainted with the stress and sadness from his parents, hidden away in the bottom of his middle desk drawer.

This was only happiness.

Smiling at the photo, he saves it to his phone before opening his conversation with you. He’s going to make it up to you, going to make sure you don’t regret coming back for him.

You should come to mine and Donghyuk’s performance on Monday. Afterwards I’ll buy you dinner

---

 Thank you so much to @staymoarmyzen for proofreading and making me feel better about this chapter. I fought off writers block to get this out, so I hope it isn't too over the place. I would love to know what you guys think! Have a wonderful day/night!!

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[memory-mortis]

For Whom The Bell Tolls [Bucciarati x Reader]

Hello there! First JJBA fanfic posted on this blog, let’s fucking gooooo- anyway, I feel kinda weird about this one, idk. It’s a mixture of fighting, then angst, then some fluff. Your Stand is named Parabola, after the Tool song. If you like rock/metal, I suggest putting it on when you rush in to help Bruno! CW: Graphic violence Word count: 4,777

Your leg bounced up and down in anxiety as you sat on the couch, a single meter of space between you and Bruno. The sounds of the motorboat from the outside filled the room inside the turtle, but you paid it no mind, too preoccupied with your thoughts running rampant in your head. The mission was nearing its end. Trish sat in the armchair across the table, hugging her legs close to her chest. You assumed she was nervous as well, and you could totally understand why. This was, after all, the first time she would meet her father and the fact that he was the boss of the biggest mafia in all of Italy did not help ease any of her anxiety. Or that’s what you guessed she must have felt like anyway. You would have been the same in her shoes. 

You leaned back into the couch, spreading your arms over the back, but despite your efforts to look as relaxed as possible, your leg just wouldn’t listen. Fuck. It all felt too easy. The mission was going too smoothly. You hadn’t lost a single member of your team. That was a good thing, of course, but at the same time, doubt crept its way into the far back of your mind, gnawing at you, its whining for attention soon turning into a loud screech of nails against chalkboard. This is why you worked alone. The constant worry of losing someone close to you would hold you back and rapidly decrease your performance.

Was this a trap? Bruno had confided in you a couple nights back that him and the new kid Giorno were planning on taking over the mafia. But the boss was a huge enigma and none of you never really knew who he was - what if he had heard all of that? What if he knew? You bit your lip hard. Was he going to massacre the team - even if the only ones who knew about the plan were you, Giorno and Bruno?

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Bruno laid his warm hand on your thigh, stopping the rapid movement. Your eyes jolted to his face; brows furrowed in concern and deep blue eyes boring into your very soul. You exhaled a breath which you didn’t know you were holding back. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice as soft and caring as always. It was nearly impossible to keep things from him, but as your eyes ticked over to Trish, who was staring at you intently, you figured it would be best not to voice your thoughts. You didn’t want to give the girl any unnecessary worries.

You gave Bruno an apologetic smile before responding, “Sorry, it’s nothing. I guess I’m just anxious to meet the boss.” He continued to stare into your eyes and you felt your cheeks burn up under his gaze, but refused to break eye contact, as that would indicate that you were lying. A corner of his lips twitched upwards but he quickly forced the smirk back into a neutral expression. What was that about?

“How much longer till we get there?” he asked, finally turning away from you. You looked at Trish who was cocking an eyebrow at you. You huffed in response. “We’re almost at Rialto Bridge,” Fugo answered from above, “it’ll be at least another five minutes.” “All right. Keep going.” “Bucciarati,” Giorno joined the conversation, “what was the mission from the boss?”

Bruno inserted the disc he was holding into the laptop on the table and immediately a window popped up. “I’m reconfirming the mission from the boss right now,” he said as green letters appeared on the screen. You shuffled a bit closer to the capo, looking over his shoulder in curiosity. “I’ll read it aloud,” he announced from next to you, so close you could practically feel his breath. This was the only kind of intimacy you would get while on this mission, apart from the occasional disappearance into Sticky Fingers’ realm for a quick make-out. It was always small things like an arm wrapped around your shoulders, the back of his hand brushing against yours, or his hand on the small of your back while ushering you somewhere. You had learnt to appreciate these gestures in your time with Bruno. The two of you were very reserved and hated doing anything inappropriate in front of the others, especially since like half of your team was underage. But they were quick to catch on to the way the two of you looked at each other and would snicker to each other behind your back. At least Abbacchio was there to keep them at bay. You were very thankful for that.

Bruno went on to explain the instructions on the disc, such as how much time you had and all the strict rules that felt extremely paranoid to you. The boss wanted to meet only one of you and you immediately knew that Bruno would be the one to go. The rest of you were supposed to wait on the boat and stepping onto the island was strictly prohibited. You bit your lip once again.

“Giorno, Y/N,” the capo addressed the two of you when the boat came to a halt, “I would like to speak to you in private.” He stood up and walked over to one of the walls, creating a zipper on it. Giorno got inside the turtle without hesitation and all three of you stepped into Sticky Fingers’ void, Bruno closing the zipper behind you. The blonde raised an eyebrow at him in question. “I have a bad feeling about this. We need to have a plan B in case everything goes to hell.” You nodded in agreement. “Do you, um…” you started, blushing at the realization that Giorno was about to hear what you have to say, “do you have to be the one to go? Can’t Abbacchio do it?” Bruno’s gaze on you softened as he gave you a smile that could melt all the ice caps. “Y/N.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and you leaned into the touch. “I wish I could, but I’m the capo. I should be the one to do it, mia cara.”

You weren’t surprised. A little disappointed, yes, but you understood the gravity of the situation at hand. Sending an ordinary gangster could be viewed as disrespectful, who knows how the boss would react to that. And so you just gave him a sigh before bracing yourself, your expression shifting into its usual impenetrable hardness. That was the you that Giorno recognized, the strict determined glare you had when Bucciarati first introduced you to the gang.

“Then let’s make sure we’re prepared,” you said, all tenderness gone. Bruno let go of your cheek and also focused at the task. He loved that about you. The way you could separate your work from emotions in order to truly concentrate, although he would often have to remind you when you were not working anymore.

“Giorno, give me one of your brooches. We can use it as a tracking device. This is a chance for us to find out the boss’ identity.” Giorno did as he was told, giving his ladybug brooch life before handing it to the capo. “Now, if anything feels off, the two of you have permission to get off the boat, but do not let anyone else step onto the island. Got it?” You and Giorno nodded in unison. Bruno opened a zipper in his own jaw before continuing, “I’m going to hide a phone inside myself. If things go south, Y/N, I will call you, so be ready. Any questions?” This time you shook your head. He reached for the zipper to go back outside, but you grabbed his wrist and pressed your lips to his cheek quickly.

“Just for luck,” you mumbled and Bruno chuckled softly, stepping out. You and Giorno followed right after.

__

You couldn’t shake off the bad feeling as you watched Bruno and Trish walk away from the boat. You sat there, clenching the phone in your hand, eyes pinned to the bell tower.

“Jesus, Y/N, ease up a little. You’re like a dog waiting for its owner,” Narancia teased, poking you with his elbow and a grin plastered on his face. You gave him an annoyed glare. As much as he liked to remind Giorno that he was older, he sure acted way less mature.

“The mission’s not over yet. Sit back down and shut up,” you ordered and he listened immediately. Even though you were equal when it came to your position in the mafia, you still gave off the aura of a superior, not only because of your age, but also because of your dominant nature. The boys often argued who was more bossy, you or Abbacchio, and they always settled on a draw.

You looked over to Giorno. His brows were furrowed in concentration.

“What’s up,” you asked, scooting closer to take a look at the laptop in his lap.

“Bucciarati must have dropped the brooch down the elevator shaft. It’s… strange.” You clenched your jaw and once again pinned your eyes to the building. Biting your lip, you stood up and tossed your phone to Giorno who only managed to catch it in the last minute.

“W-Wait, Y/N, where-” you didn’t let him finish his question, interrupting him.

“It feels too wrong. I’m going. Pick it up if he calls.” With that, you stepped out of the motorboat, which made everyone else stand up and erupt into chaos.

“Hey, Y/N! The boss said to stay on the boat!” Abbacchio’s deep voice was the most prominent one out of the rest of the team.

“The boss can go fuck himself. Everyone stay here. No one except Giorno is allowed to get off the boat! And that’s an order from your capo!” That was enough to silence them all and you did not waste any more time, running inside the building.

__

Bruno skidded towards the unconscious girl, wary of his surroundings. The boss was nowhere to be seen, but he was definitely present. Things went south, just as he had expected. Picking up Trish’s arm, he sewed her hand back on using his Stand’s zipper. Disgusting. Doing all of this just to murder his own daughter and get away with it, an action so despicable it made Bruno want to throw up.

“I’d like to ask you why,” the boss’s voice suddenly echoed around Bruno, who instinctively destroyed the pillar nearest to him with Sticky Fingers. “What’s the meaning of this? I highly respected all the work you had done for me on this mission. Were you so happy to become a capo that you got greedy? Or did you overestimate your own powers and get cocky, thinking you could actually surpass me?”

Bucciarati did not answer any of his questions. Instead, he propped Trish’s head up, ready to flee with her body anywhere in case the boss attacked.

“When Trish wakes up, I’m going to tell her that her father didn’t even exist,” he said, his protective nature taking over him.

“Trish?” The boss sounded genuinely confused. “What about Trish? My daughter has nothing to do with you.”

“You could never understand my true feelings!” Bruno growled, unzipping his jaw to grab his phone. He promptly put it to his ear. “Y/N?”

“Bucciarati!” He was surprised to hear Giorno’s voice instead of yours.

“Giorno? Where’s Y/N?” He furrowed his brows. Why didn’t you pick up? Where the hell were you? Would he have to worry about you as well?

“Well, you see- she’s already on her way.”

“What do you-” Bruno gritted his teeth. If you were on your way there, it would be unwise to let the boss know. “Tell me his location,” he ordered instead.

“Yes! Right now, he’s at the bottom of the stairs to the charnel house. He’s right by the pillar that’s about two meters away from the stairs,” Giorno explained, “but wait, Bucciarati! Something is wrong!”

Bucciarati didn’t listen to his warning. He pinned his eyes to the pillar and called out Sticky Fingers, who pummeled it into pieces. A shadow stood behind the pillar, however as the pieces scattered, his eyes widened at the sight of himself. Sticky Fingers’ fist met his own chest.

“W-What…” was all Bruno could say, confused to find himself suddenly standing in the place of his copy. Nothing made sense. He was there, and now he was somewhere else? What the hell was going on? Was this the boss’s true power?

A deep voice boomed from behind him. “I decided to show you… as a parting gift. Since this is the end, I’ll fill you in. What you just witnessed and felt… was you in the future,” the boss clarified, “you from a few seconds from the past witnessed yourself in the future. This is my King Crimson’s ability! I erased time and leapt past it!”

The figure standing behind Bruno reached back, preparing to punch a hole straight through his chest. He was already swinging his fist–

But the contact never came, much to his dismay.

You rushed in at the last second. Seeing the position Bucciarati was in pumped adrenaline through your entire body and you leapt down the stairs, summoning your Parabola with her flaming sword. You jumped in between the two men, successfully chopping off King Crimson’s arm.

“Hands off my boyfriend!” you screamed, the fire of your Stand sparkling in your eyes, a true testament to your rage.

“W-what!” the boss choked out, stepping back just in time to dodge Parabola’s sword one more time, this time aiming to slice his entire body in half. Your cheeks were crimson red from the temperature rising both within and around you.

“Y/N!” Bucciarati called out from behind you. How glad was he to see you. Parabola stabbed its sword into the severed arm, twisting it around until it combusted into flames and turned to ashes. At that moment it dawned on Bruno just how angry you were. This wasn’t good, he knew about your temperament and how hard it was to snap you out of it afterwards.

“Bruno,” you tore him out of his thoughts, voice deep and venomous. “Go get Trish. Keep her safe. Get her out of here. I’ll fight him.”

“Y/N! He’s too powerful, you can’t take him on your own!” he refused, terrified just from what he had seen so far.

“I won’t. I suspect Giorno is already on his way here. Go!”

Clenching his jaw, Bruno turned and bolted towards Trish, only to suddenly find himself kneeling next to her. He froze. It happened again, the time skip. His eyes darted back to you, widening at the sight. King Crimson and you were in a draw, the enemy’s strong hand holding your arm, broken at the elbow, while Parabola’s sword was pressed tight against his throat. King Crimson chuckled.

“I like you. Your reflexes are fast. I was just about to punch a hole through your stomach, but you managed to dodge it, even despite the time skip,” he praised, however you did not respond, too focused on biting your lip to hold back your scream of pain. You weren’t about to let the boss have the pleasure of hearing you acknowledge the damage he did to you.

“Fuck you!” you spat, swinging the sword at his throat in an attempt to slice it. You were unsuccessful. It seemed like he already knew your next move and so he pulled back, taking your arm with him.

This time, you were unable to hold it in. A painful screech left your throat as your forearm disconnected at the joint and the muscles around it were forcefully torn apart. You took a few steps back before tripping and falling onto the floor, eyes pinned to the blood gushing out of your severed limb, and boy was there a lot of it. Your face turned ghastly pale, bile rising to your throat.

“Sticky Fingers!” you heard Bruno’s muffled voice and in mere seconds, the wound was zipped shut, the blood flow cut off. Unfortunately, it did not stop the pain. You took a couple strained breaths and growled, snapping yourself out of the shock.

“Y/N!” Bruno yelled, leaning over you and cupping your cheeks. He gave you a terrified look and you saw your reflection in his teary eyes. You looked like shit, to say the least. Your eyes widened once you noticed King Crimson looming behind Bruno, and you opened your mouth to scream anything, but a familiar sound stopped you.

It was the sound of Gold Experience’s powers, hard to explain, but very easy to recognize. King Crimson was pulled back and both you and Bruno watched as the ladybug brooch turned into a turtle, completely identical to Coco Jumbo, forcing the boss inside together with his Stand.

“Giorno must have put Coco Jumbo’s cells into the brooch before giving it life,” Bruno clarified. He summoned Sticky Fingers once again and opened a hole in the ground, sending the turtle down a water pipe. “Let’s use this chance to get away!” He looked at you and helped you get up clumsily, you were drowsy from all the blood loss, which pissed you off even more. Bruno hurried to pick up Trish and the three of you headed to the stairs, freezing at the sight of King Crimson standing at the top.

“Giorno Giovanna, huh,” the boss thought aloud, menacing aura all around him, “he must have joined this organization with the intent to betray me from the start.” You did not waste another second and called Parabola out. She was paler in comparison to just a few moments ago, but you weren’t going to give up just because you were missing a limb. That unbreakable determination was enough to feed her flames.

“Useless!” the boss cried out, King Crimson baring his fist and aiming right for Parabola’s weak point. He came to a halt when Sticky Fingers’ arm appeared right next to his head. Bruno was able to land a punch, when suddenly King Crimson stood a few meters away, this time coming for your boyfriend.

“Bruno!” you screamed in terror, your voice was already starting to get raspy from all the yelling. To your surprise, he did not show any fear.

“It wasn’t you that I was trying to attack,” he explained, and only then did you notice the zipper on a nearby column, “it was this pillar! Zipper, close!” He grabbed both you and Trish and once Sticky Fingers closed the zipper, you were pulled up, completely dodging King Crimson’s attack. You laughed at the enemy Stand’s angry expression as you continued going up, until the zipper closed around you.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Bruno asked upon setting you down. You stood on all four–well, three–and took laboured breaths, drops of sweat trickling down your face. The adrenaline had somewhat worn off and the pulsating agony in what was left of your arm returned. His soft warm hand tucked your hair behind your ear in order to allow him to get a better look at your expression. But you couldn’t allow yourself to ease up now, no, the danger was not quite gone just yet. You clenched your teeth and snapped at him.

“I’m fine. Let’s go. We can’t stop here. He’ll be here soon.” You struggled to get up and stopped as soon as Giorno’s voice reached your ears.

“Bucciarati! Y/N!” the blonde called out to you, dropping to his knees next to all of you. He noticed the state of your arm and flinched. “What happened?”

“We had a little disagreement with the boss,” you smirked, holding onto Bruno to stand straight. “Grab Trish and let’s get the fuck out of here.” Giorno nodded and picked unconscious Trish up, leading you all to the exit. The rest of the gang stood at the entrance.

“Bucciarati!” Abbacchio growled, approaching you.

“Bucciarati, what’s going on? Why is Trish still with you? Why is- why is Y/N missing an arm?” Narancia chimed in. You groaned, the constant reminder of your pain annoying you.

“I’ll explain everything later. Right now, we need to get out of here as soon as possible,” Bruno commanded, giving you a side glance. You avoided eye contact, focusing on the task at hand instead.

Bruno helped you sit down on the boat. You hated being pampered like this, but without an arm, your balance was off and the boat’s movements were making you unstable. Right after sitting down, he handed you Trish and you held her in your healthy arm, just to make sure she was alright.

“What the hell’s going on, Bucciarati?” Abbacchio asked. “We need an explanation. What the hell are you doing?” Bruno left a hand on your cheek and you gazed up at him with worry, before he turned around and stepped off the boat.

“All right. I’ll just come out and say it.” You watched the capo intently. “But I can’t explain everything right now, because there’s no time and danger’s right around the corner.” Everyone was silent and the atmosphere grew thick as Bruno paused. “The reason I brought Trish back is because I betrayed the boss just now.”

He just dropped the bomb like that, shocking the whole team. Well, except for you and Giorno that is, the two of you already knew.

“I’ll be leaving you guys now,” he announced. “If you go with me, you will also become traitors.”

“W-What…” Mista interrupted the silence.

“Bucciarati, you should explain. Some of them might want to follow you. We need people on our side,” Giorno added, which angered Abbacchio. The goth grabbed his collar, pulling him close to his face.

“What the hell is your deal, Giorno?!” he snapped.

“Abbacchio!” Your deep scolding voice made him freeze. All eyes were on your pitiful form now. Although it wasn’t unusual for you to scold Narancia or Mista when they did something dumb or got loud at the restaurant, there were only two or three instances in the past when you had raised your voice at Abbacchio. You did usually have deep respect for the man after all. “Let go of the boy. This isn’t his fault. It was meant to happen sooner or later.”

Abbacchio squinted his eyes at you in a scowl, but listened to your order and let go of Giorno, instead shifting his attention to Bucciarati, who took a look back at you and Trish.

Finally, he began explaining, “The boss had us act as Trish’s bodyguards so that he could kill his daughter with his own two hands. Because she shares his blood, she could have figured out his true identity. I found that out and… I couldn’t forgive him. I couldn’t just come back pretending I didn’t see that. That’s why I betrayed him!”

You managed to smile in spite of the pain shooting up your arm. That was the Bruno you loved. Compassionate, caring. He knew right from wrong, despite his years spent in the organization. And he was not going to continue ignoring the atrocities done by the boss any longer. You thanked Giorno for that. He was the force that started moving those gears inside your lover, the one thing that forced him to finally truly come out of his shell.

The rest of the team didn’t seem as excited about these news though. You understood their fears. The boss was ruthless.

“Are you insane, Bucciarati?” Mista was the last one you’d expect to hear that sort of thing from, considering his antics.

Abbacchio, on the other hand, sounded more composed, “You know exactly what happens to traitors, no matter who it is. The boss never lets anyone get away. Hell, Venice could already be surrounded by the boss’s elite guard!”

“You’re right, and that’s why I’m going to need help. If any of you are willing to accompany me, come down these stairs and get on the boat. But I will not order any of you to come with me.”

__

The decision was difficult, but in the end, it was only Fugo who remained on the island. For a moment it looked like Narancia would stay as well, but in the end he jumped into the water and swam after you like an absolute madman. The image made you laugh, but a jolt of pain stopped you, causing your laughter to turn into a groan.

“Right,” Bruno turned around after helping Narancia get into the boat. “Giorno, get Y/N into the turtle and fix her up.” You gulped. Giorno’s healing powers were far from perfect, he could fix about anything, but there was nothing to stop the pain. You weren’t about to back out just because of fear though, and so you got into the turtle together with Trish. You lowered her down onto the couch and took a seat on the other end, Giorno joining right next to you.

“Bucciarati,” he called out to his capo, “your zipper.” Bruno got into the turtle as well and took off the zipper around the end of your arm. You hissed as blood poured out.

“Fuck!” you yelled in a poor attempt to somehow relieve yourself. Bruno furrowed his eyebrows at the sight and crouched in front of you, taking your healthy hand into his.

“Hold on to me,” he said and you clenched his hand.

__

After five minutes of your hissing and yelling, Giorno was finally done with your arm. It was still very much sensitive and moving it around felt weird, but it was there and you were thankful for that. You would have thanked him, but you were exhausted, and it was evident in the dark circles under your eyes.

You were about to get up, but Bruno’s hands on your shoulders stopped you, pushing you back against the couch.

“You need to rest.”

You scoffed, “I can rest later. We’re still in danger.”

“Clearly he’s gone, Y/N, otherwise he would have attacked by now,” Bruno reasoned. You cocked an eyebrow at him. Giorno decided it would be better to give you two space and left the turtle.

“We can’t know that for sure, Bruno. He could be anywhere. We don’t know anything about him, maybe he has some other powers. We should be ready to defend ourselves at all times.” You grabbed his wrists and pushed him away, standing up.

“Stop,” he said, but you continued walking, so he hurried over to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You clenched your jaw.

“You can relax now, Y/N. He’s gone. The danger is gone. I’m here. I’m alive.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t want to relax. You didn’t want to, because you knew that you would immediately become vulnerable in front of everyone. So instead you opted for keeping yourself on edge constantly, distracting yourself with worrying about danger. But that was hard to do with Bruno’s warmth surrounding you and the sweetness coating his voice. You bit your lip, failing to keep the tears from spilling over.

“You could’ve died,” you whispered, voice shaky from the lump in your throat. The tension in your body dissipated and you hid your face in your hands. Bruno pressed his lips against the back of your head.

“But I didn’t. You saved me. You did well,” he reassured you and with that, your walls shattered. A sob left your lips and Bruno immediately turned you around, pressing you against his chest. Your hands clutched his clothes to remind you that he was there, he was well and alive.

After a while of him stroking your hair, your sobs finally subsided and the tears stopped falling. You looked up and he cupped your cheek with one hand, gazing into your eyes with a sad smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered, pressing a kiss into the palm of his hand.

“Do you want me to stay?” You decided to be selfish for once and nodded, which earned you a soft smile and a kiss to your forehead. “All right.” He laid down on the couch and you joined, lying down on him. Resting your head on his chest, your eyes fluttered close at the sound of his heartbeat. Bruno stroked soothing circles on your back and soon enough, your breathing grew even.

“I love you,” he mumbled, and you hummed in response right before falling asleep.

[tinyshe]

Witchcraft 101

by Michelle Arnold  • 7/1/2008 Catholic Answers

What springs to mind when someone mentions “witchcraft“? Three hags sitting about a cauldron chanting “Double, double, toil and trouble”? A pretty housewife turning someone into a toad at the twitch of her nose? Or perhaps you think of Wicca and figure that it is witchcraft hidden beneath a politically correct neologism.

Witchcraft has become a hot topic in recent years. From J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter books to self-described witches agitating for political and social parity with mainstream religious traditions, Christians have had to re-examine witchcraft and formulate a modern apologetic approach to it.

In an age of science and skepticism, it may be difficult to understand why intelligent people would be drawn to witchcraft, which encompasses both a methodology of casting spells and invoking spirits and an ideology that encourages finding gods and goddesses both in nature and within the self. In her “conversion story,” self-described Wiccan high priestess Phyllis Curott, an Ivy League-educated lawyer who was raised by agnostics, describes her journey from secular materialism to Wicca as a rejection of the idea that humans are made for mammon alone:

I discovered the answers . . . to questions buried at the center of my soul . . . How are we to find our lost souls? How can we rediscover the sacred from which we have been separated for thousands of years? How can we live free of fear and filled with divine love and compassion? . . . How can we restore and protect this Eden, which is our fragile planet? (Curott, Book of Shadows, xii)

These are indeed important questions that deserve answers, answers that can be found in their fullness in Christ and in his Church. In a homily then-Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger gave at the Mass just before his election to the papacy, he famously observed:

How many winds of doctrine have we known in recent decades, how many ideological currents, how many ways of thinking. The small boat of the thought of many Christians has often been tossed about by these waves—flung from one extreme to another: from Marxism to liberalism, even to libertinism; from collectivism to radical individualism; from atheism to a vague religious mysticism; from agnosticism to syncretism and so forth.

Witchcraft has been around for centuries, perhaps even millennia, but is emerging once more from the shadows as one answer to skepticism, to materialism, even to self-absorption. It is, so to speak, the wrong answer to the right questions; it is, as the Catechism of the Catholic Church says, “gravely contrary to the virtue of religion” (CCC 2117). Catholics should not discourage these questions but must be prepared to offer the only answer: Christ and his Church.

Witchcraft’s apologists like to claim that they are the misunderstood victims of centuries of religious prejudice. Unfortunately, all too many Christians make such claims credible when they misunderstand witchcraft and craft their rebuttals of it based upon those misconceptions. If someone you know is dabbling in witchcraft, here are five things you should know before starting a conversation with him.

Witches do not believe in Satan.

If there is one belief common to witches everywhere, it is that they do not believe in Satan and that they do not practice Satanism. Witchcraft’s apologists are quick to point this out.

Denise Zimmermann and her co-authors of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Wicca and Witchcraft emphasize, “Witches don’t believe in Satan! . . . The all-evil Satan is a Christian concept that plays no part in the Wiccan religion . . . Witches do not believe that negativity or evil is an organized force. . . . Neither do Wiccans believe there is a place (hell) where the damned or the evil languish and suffer” (13).

Christian apologists should acknowledge that witches do not consciously worship Satan and that they do not believe he exists. But this does not mean that Satan needs to be left entirely out of the conversation. A Christian apologist should point out that belief in someone does not determine that person’s actual reality.

One way to demonstrate this is to ask the witch if she believes in the pope. “No,” she’s likely to answer. “The pope is a Christian figure.” True, you concede. But there is a man in Rome who holds the office of the papacy, right? Your belief or disbelief in the papacy does not determine whether or not the papacy exists. Put that way, a person will have to acknowledge that something or someone can exist independently of belief in its reality. That’s when you can make the case that Satan exists and that he does not require belief to determine his reality or his action in someone’s life. In fact, disbelief in him can make it easier for him to accomplish his ends.

In the preface to The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis notes that “There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight.”

While it is true that witches do not directly worship Satan or practice Satanism, their occult practices, such as divination, and their worship of false gods and of each other and themselves—which they explain as worshipping the “goddess within”—can open them to demonic activity. To make the case though, it is imperative to present it in a manner that won’t be dismissed out of hand.

Witchcraft and Wicca are not synonyms.

Wicca, originally spelled Wica, is the name given to a subset of witchcraft by its founder Gerald Gardner in the 1950s. Although some claim the word Wicca means “wise,” in her book Drawing Down the Moon, Margot Adler states that it “derive[s] from a root wic, or weik, which has to do with religion and magic” (40). Adler also says that the word witch originates with wicce and wicca. Marian Singer explains the difference between Wicca and witchcraft this way: “Witchcraft implies a methodology . . . whereas the word Wiccan refers to a person who has adopted a specific religious philosophy” (The Everything Wicca and Witchcraft Book, 4).

Because witchcraft is often defined as a methodology and Wicca as an ideology, a person who considers himself a witch but not a Wiccan may participate in many of the same practices as a Wiccan, such as casting spells, divining the future, perhaps even banding together with others to form a coven. This can make it easy for an outsider to presume that both the witch and the Wiccan share the same beliefs. But, if someone tells you he is not a Wiccan, it is only courteous to accept that. The Christian case against witchcraft does not depend on a witch identifying himself as a Wiccan. (There are also Wiccans who reject the label “witch,” but this is often a distinction without a difference. Even so, use the preferred term to avoid alienating the person with whom you are speaking.)

Several strands of Wicca attract followings, including: Gardnerian, Alexandrian, and Georgian, which are named for their founders; Seax, which patterns itself on Saxon folklore; Black Forest, which is an eclectic hodgepodge of Wiccan traditions; and the feminist branch known as Dianic Wicca after the Roman goddess Diana. Knowing the distinctions among these traditions may not be important for the Christian apologist, but he should keep in mind that there are distinctions and that he should not make statements that start out with “Wiccans believe . . .” Rather, allow the other person to explain what he believes and then build a Christian apologetic tailored to that person’s needs.

Witches question authority.

When dealing with self-identified witches, remember that no two witches will agree with each other on just about anything. Witches are non-dogmatic to the extreme, with one witch apologist suggesting “[s]ending dogma to the doghouse” and claiming that “[r]eligious dogma and authority relieve a person of the responsibility of deciding on his or her own actions” (Diane Smith, Wicca & Witchcraft for Dummies, 32).

Generally speaking, witches prefer to give authority to their own personal experiences. Phyllis Curott, author of a book titled Witch Crafting, puts it this way: “Witches, whether we are women or men, experience the Goddess within us and in the world all around us. I love what Starhawk [witch and popular speaker and writer] said about this: ‘People often ask me if I believe in the Goddess. I reply, Do you believe in rocks?’” (121, emphasis in original). In other words, witches know “the Goddess” exists because they can experience her by at least one of their five senses. Faith in such a material deity calls to mind the demon Screwtape’s longing for hell’s “perfect work—the Materialist Magician” (Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, 31).

Throwing a bucket of cold water on a witch’s “personal experiences” will not be easy, particularly since one of the frightening.aspects of witchcraft is that some witches do have, and blithely report, extraordinary preternatural experiences. Incidents that could and should scare away many dabblers from playing with forces beyond their control are recounted by witchcraft’s apologists as affirmative of their path. Curott tells of a man who once dreamed of “being prey” of a monstrous creature; ultimately, in the dream, he was captured by the creature. Rather than taking this as a sign he should reconsider the path down which he was heading, he awoke “deeply transformed” by the dream’s ending because he believed “tremendous love” was felt for him by the creature. He eventually became a Wiccan priest (Witch Crafting, 154–155).

How can a Christian argue against a belief like that?

Ultimately, it may be that a Damascus-road moment might be necessary to sway someone that deeply entrenched in traffic with preternatural creatures. To those who are not as enmeshed, a Christian can point out that sometimes apologists for the occult have warned their readers not to be taken in by their experiences with spirits.

In a section of his book titled “Practicing Safe Spirituality,” author Carl McColman gives a checklist of “some common-sense precautions” occultists should be aware of “while meditating, doing ritual, reflecting on your dreams, or doing any other spiritual work that may involve contact with spirits.” The first item on the list is “Don’t automatically believe everything you hear. Just because a spirit says something doesn’t make it so” (The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Paganism, 129).

Witchcraft is an inversion of Catholicism.

Observers of witchcraft have claimed that it is remarkably similar to Catholicism. Catholic journalist and medievalist Sandra Miesel called it “Catholicism without Christ” (“The Witches Next Door,” Crisis, June 2002). Writer and editor Charlotte Allen noted that “Practicing Wicca is a way to have Christianity without, well, the burdens of Christianity” (“The Scholars and the Goddess,” The Atlantic, January 2001).

It’s easy to see why the assertion is made. Allen notes that as witchcraft cycles through its “liturgical year,” many of its adherents honor a goddess who births a god believed to live, die, and rise again. Fraternization with apparently friendly preternatural spirits is encouraged and eagerly sought. The rituals of witchcraft call to mind Catholic liturgies, particularly the libation and blessing ritual alternately known as “Cakes and Wine” and “Cakes and Ale.” Like Catholics collecting rosaries, scapulars, statues, and prayer books, witches have their own “potions, notions, and tools” as Curott calls them —some of which include jewelry, statues and dolls, and spell books and journals.

But to say that witchcraft has uncanny similarities to Catholicism is to understate the matter. Witchcraft is an inversion of Catholicism: Catholicism emptied of Christ and stood on its head. This is most readily seen in witchcraft’s approach to authority.

In his book Rome Sweet Home, Scott Hahn compares authority in the Church to a hierarchical pyramid with the pope at the top, with all of the members, including the pope, reaching upward toward God (46–47). With its antipathy to authority and its reach inward to the self and downward to preternatural spirits, witchcraft could also be illustrated with a triangle—every adherent poised at the top as his own authority and pointed down in the sort of “Lower Command” structure envisioned by Lewis’s Screwtape.

Witchcraft is dangerous.

In my work as an apologist, I have read a number of introductory books to various non-Catholic and non-Christian religions. Never before my investigation into witchcraft had I seen introductory books on a religion that warn you about the dangers involved in practicing it. The dangers that witch apologists warn newcomers about are both corporal and spiritual.

In her book, Diane Smith includes a chapter titled “Ten Warning Signs of a Scam or Inappropriate Behavior” (Wicca & Witchcraft for Dummies, chapter 23). Her top-10 list includes “Inflicting Harm,” “Charging Inappropriate Fees or Demanding Undue Money,” “Engaging in Sexual Manipulation,” “Using Illicit Drugs or Excessive Amounts of Alcohol in Spiritual Practice,” and “Breeding Paranoia.” Smith claims that such a need to be wary is common to religion: “[U]nscrupulous or unstable people sometimes perpetrate scams or other manipulations under the guise of religion, and this situation is as true for Wicca as for other religious groups” (317).

However true it may be that there can be “unscrupulous or unstable people” involved in traditional religions, most practitioners—Christian or otherwise—do not experience problems with these behaviors to such an extent that religious apologists see the need to issue caveats to proselytes. That Smith does so suggests that these problems are far more widespread in witchcraft than in traditional religion.

We noted one paganism apologist who warned his readers to “practice safe spirituality.” McColman goes on to caution that the “advice” of spirits “must be in accordance with your own intuition for it to be truly useful.” He goes on to say, “You remain responsible for your own decisions. Remember that spirit guides make mistakes like everybody else!” (Paganism, 128).

Catholics concerned about loved ones involved with witchcraft may not be attracted to witchcraft themselves, but there is danger for them in pursuing dabblers down the road to the occult in hopes of drawing them back. In preparing themselves to answer the claims of witchcraft, they may feel the need to read books like those mentioned in this article. If they are not fully educated and firm in their own faith, such Catholics may find their own faith under attack. Three suggestions are in order.

Not all are called to be apologists. If you are not intellectually and spiritually prepared to answer the claims of witchcraft, leave such work to others. Search out knowledgeable Catholics with whom your loved one can speak.

Prepare yourself. Common sense indicates that if you are about to rappel down a cliff, you do so with safety ropes firmly attached and in the presence of someone you trust who can help you if you are in danger. Don’t even think of rappelling down a spiritual cliff without seeking to fortify yourself intellectually and spiritually—particularly spiritually. Inform your confessor or spiritual director of your plans to study and answer the claims of witchcraft. Ask trusted Catholic friends to pray for your work. Regularly receive the sacraments of confession and the Eucharist. If you need to stop or take a break from this area of apologetics, by all means do so. And, most importantly:

Pray. Whether or not you are called to personally minister to those involved in witchcraft, the most fundamental thing you can do to help witches and other dabblers in the occult is to pray.

Saints whose intercession you can seek include Bl. Bartholomew Longo, the repentant former satanic priest who returned to the Church and spent the rest of his life promoting the rosary; St. Benedict, who battled pagans and whose medal is often worn in protection against the devil; St. Michael the Archangel (Jude 1:9), invoked especially by the prayer for his intercession commonly attributed to Pope Leo XIII. And, of course, there’s St. Paul, who reminds us: “For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Rom. 8:38–39).

SIDEBARS

The Catechism on Witchcraft

There are a great many kinds of sins. Scripture provides several lists of them. The Letter to the Galatians contrasts the works of the flesh with the fruit of the Spirit: “Now the works of the flesh are plain: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, jealousy, anger, selfishness, dissension, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and the like. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things shall not inherit the Kingdom of God.” (CCC 1852)

God can reveal the future to his prophets or to other saints. Still, a sound Christian attitude consists in putting oneself confidently into the hands of Providence for whatever concerns the future, and giving up all unhealthy curiosity about it. Improvidence, however, can constitute a lack of responsibility. (CCC 2115)

All forms of divination are to be rejected: recourse to Satan or demons, conjuring up the dead or other practices falsely supposed to “unveil” the future. Consulting horoscopes, astrology, palm reading, interpretation of omens and lots, the phenomena of clairvoyance, and recourse to mediums all conceal a desire for power over time, history, and, in the last analysis, other human beings, as well as a wish to conciliate hidden powers. They contradict the honor, respect, and loving fear that we owe to God alone. (CCC 2116)

All practices of magic or sorcery, by which one attempts to tame occult powers, so as to place them at one’s service and have a supernatural power over others—even if this were for the sake of restoring their health—are gravely contrary to the virtue of religion. These practices are even more to be condemned when accompanied by the intention of harming someone, or when they have recourse to the intervention of demons. Wearing charms is also reprehensible. Spiritism often implies divination or magical practices; the Church for her part warns the faithful against it. Recourse to so-called traditional cures does not justify either the invocation of evil powers or the exploitation of another’s credulity. (CCC 2117)

Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

Further Reading

Charlotte Allen, “The Scholars and the Goddess,” The Atlantic, January 2001 (Available online: www.theatlantic.com)

C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (HarperCollins)

Sandra Miesel, “Who Burned the Witches?” Crisis, October 2001 (Available online: www.catholiceducation.org)

Sandra Miesel, “The Witches Next Door,” Crisis, June 2002

Catherine Edwards Sanders, Wicca’s Charm: Understanding the Spiritual Hunger Behind the Rise of Modern Witchcraft and Pagan Spirituality (Shaw Books, 2005)

Donna Steichen, Ungodly Rage: The Hidden Face of Catholic Feminism (Ignatius, 1991)

Alois Wiesinger, O.C.S.O, Occult Phenomena in the Light of Theology (Roman Catholic Books)

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang! AU] Chapter 8 || C.H

A//N: It’s been a while since I’ve updated this fic... Sorry about that. I’ve missed writing Eloise and Calum so I’m hoping I’ll have chapter 9 finished soon (yeah, I’m still working on that...) But anyway, enjoy!

Word Count: 10.6k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

7 Days Left

The doorbell was a sound that Eloise had been dreading all day. She knew what was coming, what she would have to endure, and she knew she was going to hate every second of it.

Calum left her sitting in the living room, venturing towards the front door to welcome the familiar body into his home. He grasped onto the handle of the door, twisting the knob before pulling, the lock in the door clicking and releasing the door from the frame’s clutches.

“Hey Nik,” He smiled briefly, a heavy breath exhaling through his nose as he opened the door wider, allowing for Nikki to slide through and into his home, “Thanks for coming,”

“You’re my partner, Calum,” Nikki clicked her tongue, “It’s partly my job to come running when you call,”

As much as there was some truth in her response, Calum also knew that she cared. She never hesitated to tell him how crazy she thought he was when she first discovered his plan, practically yelling the words at him down the phone, but as soon as he said he needed her help, she came. She always did when he needed her.

“Does anyone know where you were heading?” Calum questioned, glancing out of the small window in his door, as if to try and spot any suspicious people who may have been attempting to listen in. A bit dramatic, Calum.

“Charlie thinks I’m meeting with a CI,” She reached into her pocket, pulling out the small recording device he had requested, the wires wrapped around it securely, and placing it into his open palm, “Told him I had a guy over in Whitestone who had some information for me, so he isn’t expecting me back anytime soon,” Nikki pulled off her jacket, crossing her arms pleasantly in front of her as she rested her jacket folded over them, keeping it securely against her chest as her and Calum stood by the door, “And before you ask, I left my phone at the station, so Will can’t tap into it or anything,”

“You’re always one step ahead,” Calum bounced his eyebrows, chuckling fondly at her answer to the unasked question.

“One of us has to be,” Nikki shrugged in response.

Nikki was one of the few cops Calum felt like he could trust. He knew that to execute he and Eloise’s plan he was going to need some help. He couldn’t go into the shipment yard alone, but he also knew he couldn’t trust the majority of the officers in his precinct to follow through with his plan. He recruited Nikki, knowing that he could trust her even though she wasn’t one hundred percent on board.

“So, where is she then?” Nikki let out an almost hesitated sigh, pursing her lips. With a single nod, Calum led her through his home, directing his partner into the sitting room, eyes instantly finding Eloise sat on the couch, arms crossed along her chest with her knees crossed over one another, scowl on her face as she looked at the other woman in Calum’s life.

Calum swore he could feel the tension grow when Eloise’s eyes met Nikki’s, a subtle quiet sigh leaving through his nose. He knew Eloise wasn’t fond about other cops knowing about them, knowing about their plan, but she knew that Calum couldn’t do it alone, that he needed some backup when it came to that night at the boat yard, and as much as it irritated her and worried her that she was putting her life in their hands, she knew she had to trust Calum. That’s all she had been doing this entire time, so what was a bit more.

“Eloise, this is my partner Nikki Reid,” Calum introduced the two females, glancing between them, “Nikki, this is Eloise,”

“I know who she is,” Nikki stated, unimpressed with how normal Calum was trying to make this introduction. She was here for him, not her. She had made that very clear to Calum over the phone, her tone in that moment only solidifying that.

“You and every other cop in this fucking city,” Eloise’s dark eyes rolled to the back of her head, her back slouching against the back of the couch, not appreciating Nikki’s spitting statement. She was perfectly aware that many people knew who she was, especially the NYPD. If she were anyone else, Eloise would be questioning as to why Nikki had this instant distaste towards her, but Eloise wasn’t blind, knowing that Nikki, much like every other cop, had been conditioned to preserve the course of justice in their city, which translated into stopping the likes of her and the group she ran with.

Nikki rolled her lips into her mouth, seeming as if she was thinking about her next words, knowing she had to keep her personal feelings in regard to this whole set up quiet, reminding herself that she was doing this for Calum, knowing he had become so invested in a situation that was completely out of his depth that she couldn’t let him drown, she had to help him.

“Calum’s told me everything,” Nikki began, dropping the coat in her hands so it rested over the back of the armchair to her left, “He told me about what you were instructed to do, and what’re you’re now planning to do, and I just want to say that I think you’re both completely out of your mi- “

“Why are we even trusting her again?” Eloise spat towards Calum, clearly irritated by Nikki’s attempt to express an opinion, “What’s stopping her from taking everything we say here straight back to the station and exploiting the whole thing?”

Calum moved over so he was crouched down in front of Eloise, Nikki’s eyes watching the whole action unfold, he placed a warm hand on her knee, squeezing it reassuringly as he gave her a comforting smile, “Because she’s a good cop, El. She’s my partner and I trust her, and you need to too,” His voice was soft, brown eyes meeting her own as he added, “At least do it for me, just this once,”

Eloise’s tongue pushed against her bottom teeth, rolling her lips into her mouth barely, as she glanced down at Calum’s hand resting comfortably against her knee. His touch was always warm, always comforting, it spoke a million words more than anyone ever could, and she basked in the effects it had on her. “Fine,”

“What I was going to say before,” Nikki let out a sigh, moving so she could take a seat on the armchair, leaning forward so her elbows rested limply on her denim covered legs, “Was that I think you’re both out of your minds, no doubt about that, but at the same time I can appreciate that you’re trying to do right by the city this time,” Calum shifted his weight, moving so he could take a seat on the couch next to Eloise, his arm subtly going behind her so the palm of his hand rested on the small of her back with an almost feather-like touch. “Calum’s clearly seen something in you that we’ve been blinded to all these years, and he’s always had good instincts, so I’m willing to help if you’ll let me,”

Eloise watched her eyes as Nikki spoke, noting her body language, how her eyes fell to Calum as she spoke, a warm smile on her face before her eyes met Eloise’s one more. Calum’s thumb gently rubbed against her back, silently comforting her as Nikki attempted to shoot her a smile, a half smile at that.

It was a start.

“I suppose I can resist the urge to shoot you if you’ll do the same,” Eloise pursed her lips with a raise of her eyebrows, evident sarcasm, and humour in her tone. It was a questionable attempt at humour, but that was Eloise.

Although it seemed that Nikki noted the attempt, embracing it with a small laugh, sounding only slightly uncomfortable as she responded with a small nod of her head, “You’ve got yourself a deal,”

Calum silently thanked the gods above for smoothening the tension, even if just a little. It wasn’t the most ideal situation for any of them to be sat in, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try to make it work. They had to use each other to their advantage, use the positions they were in as a positive in order to get the outcome they equally wanted.

Nikki had warned him about how far he was pushing things, having asked her to keep things quiet from their Lieutenant, as well as the rest of the NYPD until he decided who else he would be taking along with him on the night. She had asked him what was so special about the girl who he was risking his career for, about what made her so different compared to every other young criminal in the city.

And the answer he gave was a silent one, one of uncertainty yet also one that held a knowing answer. He knew exactly what separated her from every other misled individual in the city, but he just didn’t know how to voice it.

“So, how much do we know about the shipment so far?” Nikki asked, eyes looking over to Eloise.

Eloise sat forward on the couch, perching herself on the edge, “Not much at the moment,” She admitted, a small defeated sigh escaping her lips, “Jay’s been keeping the details pretty quiet so far, some decisions still have to be made,” Calum’s arm moved around her back, palm resting comfortably on her waist, his forearm warmly against the space of her lower back. Eloise couldn’t help but spot Nikki’s eyes drifting to where Calum’s hand could be spotted on her waist, seeing the beginning of what she believed to be a small smile twitching at her lips at the sight. “All I’ve got is a date and location of where the shipment will be arriving, but an exact time or anything like that I’m in the dark,”

“Any idea of when you might know more?”

“Jay’s called a meeting tomorrow night with all of us,” Eloise nodded, “He’s asked for everyone to be there, so most likely this will be him wanting to dictate the plan, probably gonna decide who he wants on the deal,” The thought of the shipment made her stomach twist, realising how close it was compared to when this started. She had gone from having weeks to work out what she needed to do, to having a mere few days until everything that she had been plotting would be put into action. She couldn’t play deaf any longer to the time as it ticked on, as the day her greatest act of betrayal would strike and change her life forever. It would be the making point of her life, or it would be the very thing that broke her completely.

“Who does he want on the deal?” Nikki repeated her words, “Wait, so do you guys have a plan for if he doesn’t take you- “

“He will,” Eloise hadn’t noticed Calum spoke with her simultaneously in her response, her eyes looking to her right, watching as the man nodded at Nikki, an amused smile creeping to the corners of her lips before she had a chance to fight it. She pushed it back, clearing her throat quietly before continuing on her own, “I’ll be there indefinitely, as will Scott, Taylor, and Han. He’ll take a few others and keep the rest as backup,”

Nikki continued to ask numerous questions, trying to pry as much information out of Eloise as possible, but unfortunately for everyone in that room, Eloise only knew so much. Jay hadn’t been that open with sharing details on the shipment, not even with Han, which she discovered when she ran into him the morning after she had been with Scott.

She was leaving her apartment to catch the train to Queens when Han appeared in her hallway, stopping her in her tracks and asking for an update on their situation with the police. He seemed off that day; very paranoid and jumpy, very unlike him. She didn’t pry, knowing he was still a little shaken from the night at Mooney’s. When she asked about the deal and if Jay had said anything more on the matter, she noticed how Han just shrugged and brushed it off, seeming as in the dark as she did with the details. According to Han, Jay had been almost silent, only sharing snippets of information on the plan if he needed to, otherwise keeping it to himself with a vice-like lock on his tongue.

It wasn’t like Jay to keep Han in the dark, almost unheard of. It was always the two of them. Always. But it seemed as if Jay had cast Han out since that night from the way Han had described Jay’s attitude, as if he were doing this alone. That only worried Eloise; a plan without Han’s input was sure as hell to go wrong.

“I take it you’re gonna wear the wire I brought to the meeting tomorrow?” Nikki queried, eyebrows raised, head nodding towards the small black recording device that Calum had placed on the coffee table. Eyebrows furrowed, creasing her forehead, Eloise’s eyes shot to Calum, clearly unaware of this plan.

“You’ve got to be fucking with me, right?” Eloise asked, any ounce of amusement she previously had gone, “I walk in there with a wire on me – I’m as good as dead!” Eloise wasn’t stupid, she knew if any of the gang even got a whiff of a wire then she was done for; she wouldn’t see the outside of the hideout. She couldn’t even be sure anyone would stop Jay from putting a bullet through her, the line of friendship she previously had with the others becoming so blurred and almost non-existent.

She noticed how even Calum seemed a bit taken aback by Nikki’s question, it coming as a surprise to him as his brows matched her dark ones; furrowed but confused.

“If you’re not going to wear the wire, how are we to know what your boss decides?” Nikki gave a limp shrug of her shoulders, response exasperated as she looked to almost to be a tinge frustrated with the lack of physical evidence Calum and Eloise had gathered; it all being words and statements from the anonymous tip offs and small details that Calum had subtly slipped into conversation when informing his partner. “If we’re taking them down at the end of this, we need more than a few notes and claims of what they’ve been up to,” Nikki ran a hand over her face, “And if we’re supposedly helping you get out of there, we won’t be able to use any of the evidence against them in the case, any link to you will become null and void as you’ll become a candle in the wind, practically unheard of,”

Eloise eyes shot back to the raven-haired woman opposite her, blinking a few times before her statement seemed to click, “Wait, so you’re in on all of it? Not just trapping the guys but also- “

Nikki’s face seemed to soften, shoulders slumping, realising that Calum maybe hadn’t told Eloise everything, having left out a few details, “Calum wants to help you get out of New York, not just the Gypsy Kings – swears on his life that you deserve this chance, so I’m willing to bend a few rules of my own if he is,” Nikki let out a soft sigh, leaning back in the chair as she rested her right ankle on her left knee, “Which is why we can’t afford any slip ups, we need to know exactly what’s being said so we can be prepared for what’s coming,”

Maybe this Nikki chick wasn’t as bad as Eloise figured. She was willing to look the other way simply because Calum asked her to, something that she had been doing all her life; doing what she was told simply because she was asked. She placed her life in the hands of other people almost every day, having some form of faith in them that they would catch her if she were to fall. But never once, had she seen it first-hand as a witness. She looked at Calum and Nikki, and saw nothing but almost trust in one another, seeing how without question she would help him even though she didn’t agree with what he was doing, looking past that to help someone who she trusted was doing what he believed to be right. It warmed her; seeing how two people could be so trusting about something so outrageous.

“Whatever happens tomorrow night, we’ll know exactly what gets said,” Calum spoke out, “Wire or no wire, she’ll come back and tell us what she finds out, just like she has since the very beginning, Nik,” His voice was full of conviction, assuring his partner that what he knew was true. Eloise watched him as he spoke, her heart clenching pleasantly as he spoke of her, but what he said next ignited butterflies in her stomach, the simple statement causing a smile that she couldn’t prevent. “We trust Eloise and she trusts us, that’s how this works.”

Calum was right. The entire transaction between them was based on trust. Trust had been what kept them glued together since they first met, even though they never truly knew it. There had been something between them that couldn’t be ignored; a warmth they both felt and a natural calming nature around one another that was never fully understood until they decided to give in.

“But what about on the night when the shipment comes in?” Nikki sighed, rolling her lips into her mouth, noticing the glances that Eloise and Calum were sharing. As much as she didn’t approve of Calum’s infatuation with Eloise, nor did she like the idea of her partner endangering his livelihood for the girl in question, but she couldn’t deny the smallest ounce of a smile that curled at the corners of her lips at the sight of her friend happy.

For as long as she had known Calum, from being in the Academy together, and being partners since their first shift together, she had never seen him smile like he did when he was with Eloise. He always claimed to not have time for a relationship, using the job as an excuse, but she knew it was something he wanted. And now he had it, but the chances of that being taken away from him out balanced the chances. “It’s going to get out of hand too quickly, so it isn’t like we’ll be able to catch up afterwards and take details. We need to know then and there exactly what’s happening, so we can come in and extract you before it’s too late,”

“Nikki has a point, El,” Calum looked towards the brunette next to him, eyes quickly looking at the recording wire on the table before his eyes met her brown ones, “Like we said before, you’ll need to wear the wire on the night, it isn’t like one of us can sneak in undercover and stand next to you the whole time,” He looked to be hating the whole idea now, the fact that it was happening in a matter of days making him realise just how little time they had left, “It’s small enough that no one will even know it’s there. We’ll fit it under your shirt so it’s completely out of view, all you need to do is carry on like you’re expected to and then as soon as you say the codeword we’ll be coming in, as soon as you catch sight of us you run,”

“This is crazy,” Eloise laughed drily, her hands coming up to cover her face as she threw her head back to blindly face the ceiling, “This isn’t going to work… What was I thinking? I’m done for, I’m dead the minut- “

“Hey, hey, hey,” Calum whispered, his arm coming around from behind her back to gently try to pry her small hands from her face, wrapping his fingers around her wrist with a delicate grip, as if she would break otherwise, as he attempted to remove them, “El, it’s going to be fine, alright? We’ll have the whole place covered, you’re gonna make it out, I promise- “

“Don’t you dare promise me that,” She spoke coldly, eyes focused on the ceiling as Calum held onto her wrists limply, “You can’t predict what’s gonna happen, Cal. I know those guys better than you ever will, and as soon as they catch a glimpse of me running, I’m gonna get a bullet in the back,”

It was becoming a bit much for Eloise at this point. It was getting scary; it was getting too real.

“Look at me,” Calum’s voice coaxed her, the soft whisper barely audible. Eloise refused to let her eyes leave the ceiling, not wanting to look into the eyes of the man who had become her favourite person as of late.

In such a short span of time, Eloise couldn’t imagine a life without Calum in it. Feeling as though she had always had him around. Any moment where she wasn’t with him, she noticed she was missing him, craving some form of contact with him. He was intoxicating and she couldn’t get enough. It was the collection of late nights spent together, the laughs they shared when they were overtired, but most of all, it was way he looked at her that caused her heart to feel as though it was trying to pry its way out of her chest at the mere thought of what would be taking place in a week’s time.

His eyes told a million stories, and she had only discovered a selected few. She got lost in them every night, just as he got lost in her. Eloise was selfish in a way when it came to Calum, fighting with herself countless times over the past few days, wanting to forget about the deal and just run away with Calum, to live as just the two of them with no responsibilities and no acknowledgement of what they’d be leaving behind. But she knew she couldn’t do that. Every single ounce of good in her body – although she never believed there to be much – prevented her from doing just that, knowing she had to do what she had agreed.

It felt as though Nikki wasn’t even in the room when she allowed for their eyes to meet, everything else around the two becoming invisible as all they saw was each other. His large hands rested on the sides of her neck, thumbs coming up and rubbing smooth lines along the apples of her cheeks as he gave her one of his signature smiles, a smile that she knew she wanted to cherish for as long as time would let her.

“We’re gonna get you out,” His voice was smooth as silk, so quiet, “I’ve said it since the start, and I’ll say it again. You’re gonna make it out - you’re gonna get out of New York, and you’re gonna start again. Once you’re settled, I’ll come visit, yeah? I’ll come and see the swanky new apartment that you’ll get yourself, you’ll tell me all about the new job that you’re gonna get, and you can tell me every single detail about your new life,”

Eloise felt tears brimming at his words, the thought of being able to do all that seeming too good to be true. She knew it was exactly that. She hated how hopeful he sounded talking like that, as though he was certain that it was going to be her future. She could barely decipher the difference between her dreams and her reality anymore, and that was all because of him. He made everything feel like a fairy tale, made everything feel like it was impossible, so different to her reality.

Her watering eyes only sparked his own, the chocolate orbs turning glossy as they stared into the scared ones of Eloise. What they had truly was something special, something neither one believed possible, something neither one of them wanted to end. The thought of this final week being their last few days to spend together before everything changed hurt them, it pained them to think of it like a countdown, but that’s what it would turn into; a simple ticking clock that would count down the days, to the hours, to the very last minute before she would need to leave.

“Sound good?” He pressed his forehead against hers, smiling although he wanted nothing more than to cry at the sight of her feeling anything other than happiness. God, she broke him in a way he would never fully understand. He silently begged for her to nod, speak, to touch him. He just wanted a single form of confirmation from her, anything would suffice.

Eloise swallowed the rock of a lump that had lodged in her throat, giving a small gentle nod of her head as she looked at him, taking a shaky breath as she rolled her chapped lips into her mouth. She couldn’t help but to subtly lean into his touch, the warmth of his hands comforting her as she let out a shaky, “Yeah,”

Calum slowly leaned back, allowing for his hands to drop from Eloise’s neck as he smiled at her, eyes looking across the room to find the ones of his friend, noting the fond smile she gave him, a gentle nod of her head that spoke a thousand words more than he could have ever needed to hear.

“They uh,” Eloise cleared her throat, her hand coming up to wipe at her eyes as she composed herself, bringing her focus back to the task at hand, “They’ll be asking me about where you guys are gonna be on the night, I was supposed to leave dead ends for you to follow so by the time you learnt about the shipment, it would be too late,” Eloise reached forward for the recording wire, twisting it in her palm as she looked at it, silently figuring out how it worked, “But fake tip offs will only get me so far, it wouldn’t be believed to give them enough time to get in and get out before someone reported it,”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Calum chuckled lightly, glancing over at Nikki who reached forward to hand Eloise a folded piece of paper she had pulled out of her jacket, “We’ve got that covered,”

Eloise looked at Nikki, brows dropped in question, hand reaching out and taking the folded piece of card from her. The image that welcomed itself to her when she unfolded the sheet was one that caused her eyes to widen a little, the bold poster having the answer to her question.

“Okay, but how’s a football match going to help us?” Eloise lifted the poster, turning it in her hand as if to show Nikki the bright blue background.

“It’s a charity match,” Calum began, “It’s an annual thing held every year in light of raising money for Gracie Square hospital, which is very close to the Police Commissioner’s heart. But the date is wrong, on that poster is shows the date being next Saturday night, the same night as the shipment, when it actually isn’t happening for a few weeks,” Calum pointed to the brightly coloured text at the bottom of the poster, smirking at his awful attempt at photoshop, “So, you can use this alongside a fake tip off, assuring that 90% of the NYPD will be too busy running around a field to know what’s going on,”

“And you think this is gonna work?” Eloise’s tongue poked the inside of her cheek, an unsure sigh leaving her as she stared down at the poster. Would they really fall for something like that?

“Only one way to find out,” Nikki threw Eloise a shrug, reaching behind her to grab her jacket, removing her ankle from her knee before standing to her feet. She slid her jacket on with ease, looking down at the couple who sat on the couch, a gentle smile on her face as the sound of her boots clicked against Calum’s wooden floor as she made her way around the chair and picked up her purse. “I’ll leave that with you guys, but I need to head back to the station. Believe it or not but some of us still have real police work to do,” She shot a playful glare at Calum, “Not all of us have a million vacation days to use up,”

“I’ll walk you out,” Calum chuckled at Nikki’s remark, leaving a rather unsure Eloise by herself on the couch, poster in hand as she read the same words over and over again in her head.

Were they crazy for thinking this could work? Maybe.

Calum joined Nikki outside, closing the door behind him quietly as if not to disturb the silence. Nikki took a few steps before turning to face Calum, stopping just before the descending steps of his porch, tilting her head, and giving him a knowing smirk. “What have you gotten yourself into, Hood?” She couldn’t stop the dry laugh, her arms crossing across her chest as she leaned back, the large pillar behind her preventing her from stumbling, “You’re really gonna let her leave New York?”

Calum’s brows furrowed, almost unsure of how to take her question. Was she insinuating he backtracked? Insinuating that he betrayed her? “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” His tone was bitter, as if he had just sucked a ripe lemon.

“You love her and you’re really just going to let her leave?” Nikki crossed a leg in front of the other as she stood in place, keeping her voice down to prevent any lingering ears from overhearing them, “Or is that why you’re letting her go?”

Calum froze on the spot, his arms limp by his side as he registered Nikki’s accusation. One word had such an impact, delivering an almighty punch to his gut that left him winded. Such a powerful word; so small yet so big.

He knew that he loved being around Eloise, loved every moment he spent with her, but he had never truly thought about loving her. Calum believed he would eventually feel that way for her in due time, knowing he was head over heels for the girl who sat in his home, but was it possible to feel it as quickly as he was accused of. Was it love when he didn’t even admit it to himself first? When it took for a third party to point it out as if it was as obvious as a stain on a white shirt?

All the feelings she had made him feel over the past few weeks seemed to hit him like a truck, feeling like he was being thrown around like a ragdoll in the clutches of something he couldn’t escape. It was a scary feeling, usually compared to the likes of being on a rollercoaster you couldn’t get off, but to Calum it felt like so much more. It felt like he wasn’t in control, as if he couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t stop the way his heart skipped a beat when he thought of her smile, or the way he involuntarily smiled at the thought of her laugh. He felt as though he were simply a character, a creation of someone else who made his decisions for him, when in reality, everything he felt was caused by a pretty brunette by the name of Eloise. And yet somehow, for a man who felt as though the feelings were out of his control, he knew they were real. Every single one of them.

Did she even love him? Could she even love him? They had something, he knew they did, but was she willing to let herself succumb to the possibility of being in love when they were so close to a potential life-changing altercation? Was he willing to allow himself to embrace the true feelings, to share the word that he was yet to say to the girl who he knew had his heart in her hands?

“It’s clear as day, Cal,” Nikki’s voice caught his attention, bringing him back from the whirlwind of thoughts in his head and the pounding in his chest, “And if I can see it then so can everyone else, and I can see she feels the same,”

“But- “

“It’s in the small details, Calum,” Nikki stood upright, pulling her purse further up her arm, “The way you look at her, there’s a clear line between caring for someone and loving someone,” She smiled at the final words, “And you, Calum Hood, are loving her,”

With that final statement, Nikki turned to take her leave, walking down Calum’s driveway towards her parked car, sending a friendly wave through the windscreen before she started her engine and made her way back to the precinct, leaving Calum stood on his porch with her words circling around his head.

Calum loved Eloise. Deep down, he knew he did, but he was afraid to admit it, to himself, but also to her. She had asked him on that day if they were just setting themselves up for heartbreak, if he were prepared to risk everything he had for a total stranger? Calum recalled his response, ‘I’m willing if you are’, knowing he was wrong. He wasn’t willing. He was certain. Calum knew he would risk everything for her, that he was doing exactly that, and would do it a hundred times over for her again if she asked.

Now all he had to do was tell her that.

*****

6 Days Left

The smell of the hideout was one she never got used to. It was a strange mixture of cigarettes, dirt, and men. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, not like the one that engulfed her when she was with Calum. She could faintly smell cigarettes on him, knowing he snuck out for a cigarette when she was at his place, but never questioned it, it somehow didn't bother her unlike it did when others smoked. Maybe it was because he never did it around her; he always excused himself without her even having to ask. He was kind like that, seeming to do everything with nothing but consideration in mind for her.

If only everyone could be like that.

The sound of a door opening caught everyone’s attention, the collection of bodies that sat around the table all turned in unison, eyes falling on the open doorway and the body that entered. Eloise’s eyes followed the messy head of hair that floated through the room, watching as Scott met her eyes momentarily before tearing them away and continuing to make his way through the crowded room, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. He was avoiding her, this only confirming what Eloise already knew from the lack of communication they had prior.

Eloise felt as though everyone’s eyes had turned to her even though they were anywhere but, unable to deny the uncomfortable bubble in her stomach that embedded itself as she watched Scott pick at his hands, becoming ignorant to everything else around him. The seat next to her remained empty, everyone around them assumed that Scott would sit there once Eloise had taken her place, knowing that they sat together every time, that they were a team.

But they couldn’t have felt any further from the word. The distance between them was evident; loud and clear as if someone were ringing a bell in the room, announcing it to anyone who would listen. Things with Scott just seemed to have gotten worse since that night he visited her apartment, the effort he made to answer his phone remaining virtually non-existent. It was almost as if he didn’t have one, as if she had been sending numerous texts to a blank number. Eloise was puzzled in regards to the sudden distance, it seemed to have begun back when everything started out, as if the day that Jay gave her an ultimatum was the day that Scott had begun his descent in associating with her, taking a further step back with each day that passed.

The difference in his physical appearance was one that not many would consider to be a change, but to Eloise it was like a reincarnation. From where she sat, she could make out his sunken eyes, the bags beneath them evident and dark, as if he hadn’t slept in days, the bruise that discoloured his jaw caught her attention, her brows furrowing as she thought of where it could have come from. Scott wasn’t a fighter unless provoked, or at least she thought he wasn’t. He wasn’t the same man she once called her best friend; he was an entirely different person.

Her eyes fell to her left, watching as Gabriel settled himself in the chair beside her, the blond jutting his chin over to Scott before catching her eyes, “What’s his problem?”

She wished she knew. If anyone were to ask her what was wrong with Scott a month ago, she would know within a heartbeat. But now… Now she had no idea. “Beats me,” She gave a limp shrug, sighing as she crossed her legs over one another while they continued to wait.

Jay was late. As usual.

Eloise’s eyes glance around the room, familiar faces surrounding her – faces she had grown up around as well as a few new ones she had come to know over the years. Many of them her own age, a few older, a few even younger than her, and guilt bubbled in the shallow pit of her stomach at the thought of cursing those who were only doing what they knew to the life behind bars that they would most likely live out if the whole deal fell through like it was supposed to.

The door practically flew off its hinges when Jay entered, barging through the doorway with heavy footsteps, a smug grin plastered across his face. A burner phone was clutched in his hand as he took his position at the head of the table, eyes cascading over the collection of bodies who hung on his every word and awaited the news he had gathered them to hear.

“Just came off the phone with Anton, and the deal’s still on,” Every word Jay spoke was like a needle pricking Eloise’s skin, the pompous attitude he oozed where he thought he was invincible made her skin crawl, “He’s bringin’ along a few of his boys, and according to him the shipment should be coming in at midnight,”

Brown eyes drifted to the side, catching the way Scott sat with his arms crossed along his chest, Eloise’s stomach sinking at the expression on his face, it was almost as if Scott was excited for this.

If only they knew what was being planned…

Jay continued on, spewing instruction after instruction of what he expected of his team on the night. Loaded guns, no distractions, blah blah blah… Eloise had to fight back the eyeroll her body wanted to give at Jay’s words; the same words he spoke before every bust or deal they walked into. But it was what he said next that caused Eloise to second guess the action her body naturally wanted to act on.

“And Scott’s gonna be upfront with me on this one,” He moved to stand behind Scott, hands resting on his shoulders, “It’s about time he had his chance to show everyone what he’s really made of, so I’ve decided he’s gonna ride up front with me on this bust,”

Eloise could have sworn someone was strangling her, the sudden lack of air to her lungs was painful as she heard Jay’s words. Scott was going to be his frontman… She drinks in the sight before her, eyes darting between the two, catching the almost-proud smile Jay was shining towards Scott, as if he were a child who had just taken his first steps.

“Scotty here has been working his ass off lately, bringin’ in some extra cash like I asked unlike the rest of you,” Jay spat the last part, his eyes narrowing as the vivid orbs burned holes into the skin of the scattered bodies, “Who here heard about the booze buy over in Staten Island a few nights ago?”

Glances were shared around the room, varied confused expressions and utters of ‘what buy?’ circled around before the sound of a fist slamming down onto the table brought the confused eyes back to the man of the hour, the anger radiating like steam from his body. Everyone was used to how quickly his mood would change, it very much acting like someone flicked a switch in the control room that was his brain, hardly anyone flinching at the sudden outburst from Jay.

“Exactly,” Jay seethed through gritted teeth, slowly lifting his clenched fist before resting it back on Scott’s tense shoulder, “But Scott here found out about it through the grapevine, decided to conduct a lil’ bit of business of his own out there, took the buyers from right under the Wolves’ noses,” Jay’s tone oozed with excitement as he talked about Scott’s endeavour, god it was almost as if it turned him on. Okay, gross.

Eloise’s eyes fell to Scott, disappointment clouding over her face as she shook her head barely, the movement hardly even acknowledged by her neck as she held back the sigh that sat heavy in her chest. How could he have been so stupid, she thought to herself. Staten Island wasn’t their area, they didn’t even venture into Staten Island regardless of business or not, silently agreeing to keep out of that area of New York for their own good.

The White Wolves weren’t the kind of gang that let things slide easily, and they weren’t too fond of others walking around their territory even if no harm was intended. Everyone knew that. But now, Scott had really rattled the cage; stealing business from another gang in their own part of the city was practically asking for trouble. It just enlarged the painted targets on their backs that were laid on them that night at Mooney’s, another rule being broken, and she knew that this time there was no question that this would entice a war.

How could she have let him be so stupid?

Eloise blamed herself. She always had done when it came to Scott, mainly because this time she wouldn’t be able to get him out of the trouble he had brought onto himself. All those years where she would talk his way out of whatever he had landed himself in had become for nothing, the end result of this oncoming altercation would be the breaking point, the only time when Eloise wouldn’t be able to save him.

This wasn’t Scott’s style though… Yeah, he had a big mouth and talked his way into trouble, but he was never usually stupid enough to go and break the rules that they had lived by for years. 

That was unless someone was convincing him otherwise…

Why didn’t she see it sooner; the distance, the ignoring of phone calls, lack of communication, cold shoulders, silent treatment, everything that had been building up for the past few weeks all made sense so suddenly, it was because of him. Jay had been working his way in since the day the plan was created, immediately creating a divide between Scott and Eloise. He was removing Eloise from the picture so he could get his claws into Scott, to move him away from the sensibility of Eloise’s motives and plant the blond in his very own twisted ones.

For years she had been a witness to the ways of Jay Snow; his manipulation of those below him in order to give him what he wants. He had always treated those below him as if they were prodigies, a personal project for him to use in order to build a powerful following that he could lead into power and would help him to control New York. And that’s exactly what he was turning Scott into.

God, she felt like such an idiot… How didn’t she see this sooner? She had been so blinded with Calum and focusing on overthrowing the gang that she hadn’t seen what had been happening while she was gone. She had lost her best friend, and there was no way in getting him back.

Eloise’s eyes met with Han’s from the doorway to her left, eyes peering over the heads of the others who had gathered while the tall man shot her a warning look as if to tell her to calm down. Eloise rolled her lips into her mouth almost painfully as she tried to release her shaky breath as quietly as possible, calming herself as she listened to the remainder of the spiteful speech Jay was throwing around the room.

There was a small part of her that had silently prayed that she would get Scott out, that she would be able to confess the ploy to him and convince him to run with her, to give them both a chance at a new life. But it was too late now… There was no way she would be able to pull him out of this. He was in too deep. He was at rock bottom with the worst of them.

Her mind felt like it spaced out, a million thoughts racing through the space at a million miles an hour, everything else around seeming so distant. This included the repeated question that sounded like a mere muffle in her ears until a nudge to her arm brought her back into the reality that she wished she weren’t a part of.

“Were you listenin’?” Jay asked rhetorically, brows raised, and chin tilted down as he stared at Eloise’s slouched figure from across the table. God, he infuriated her, talked down to her like a child, always had done. For years she brushed it off, it being her normal, but lately it burned her skin uncomfortably with every word.

She licked the top row of her teeth, tongue sliding along the front as she threw a haphazard shrug towards Jay, sitting slightly more upright as she rested an elbow on the dark table in front of her.

“Any word on the cop situation for the night?” Taylor’s voice piped up from behind Eloise, the sound of the new yet familiar tone was pleasant to Eloise momentarily before her brain kicked in, reminding her to fall back into the false confidence of playing along with the original plan. “Since she seems to be in a world of her own, has our dear little Eloise pulled her head out of the clouds for longer than five minutes and got the job done?”

Eloise had to fight the roll of her eyes yet again, turning her head briefly to look at Taylor, whose eyes were firmly planted on her, the cold blue orbs meeting her brown ones as she spoke, an intimidation game subtly taking place between the two young members. “You’re so lucky that I don’t put a bullet in you,” She pursed her lips, irritated, and fed up with the snarky comments like those which had been thrown around.

“Well, have you done it or not?”

“As far as they know, the shipment has been pushed back until late next week,” Eloise crossed her left knee over her right as she prodded the table with her finger, sighing as she looked down at the table briefly, “Told ‘em that the dock was confirmed to be the one down by St George in Staten Island, and I even got a dodgy text to look as though one of Corp had sent it,”

“Fuckin’ mugs,” Jay scoffed, smirking as he made his way back to the head of the table, perching himself on the edge so he was half-sitting on the brim as he watched Eloise with intent, waiting for her continue, clearly expecting more to follow.

“As for keeping ‘em busy on the night, they’ll be too caught up over in Eisenhower,” Eloise explained, “I set up a tip off on a supposed drug deal going on down there on Saturday and they’re crawling all over it,” She chuckled a little, almost scoffing as she looked to Jay, watching as he quite literally drank in every lie that left her lips, “So most of their night shift is gonna be working overtime on that case if what I’ve heard is right. But I’ve also found out that there’s a charity football game being held over in Belmont Park,” She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out the folded poster that Nikki had given her, unfolding it before laying it out on the wooden table before sliding it over to Jay’s line of sight.

His green eyes scanned the poster, large hand reaching out and pulling it towards him, the paper sliding along the table like a snake slithering along the grass. Eloise watched as his eyes read over the words spread across the page, eyes pausing on the date, watching as they noted the small print at the bottom.

Let’s hope that was enough.

“The Commissioner organises it every year, requests all officers who are off-duty to come and participate,” Her voice continued, brown eyes watching as Jay’s green never tore from the poster in his eye line, “It’s gonna be over-crowded, apparently every cop in the city will be there as well as their families and friends. So, if they get called in about the shipment, it’ll give us more than enough time to clear out and move before they get even remotely near to the boat yard,”

“And your cop friend told you all this?” Taylor’s voice quizzed, “Where’s he gonna be on the night?”

Eloise’s eyes casted over to the side, the peering eyes of Taylor burning into the corner of her brown orbs as she refused to give him her full attention. “Calum’s playing at the game,” She answered nonchalantly.

“So, he’s gonna be busy?”

The effort she made not to roll her eyes at Jay’s idiotic query was painful, the gentle sting behind her eyes evident as she fought the primal urge in retaliation to stupidity. For a man who claimed to be so street-smart he sometimes lacked the basic common knowledge of words.

“He’s the captain of one of the teams so I think that says it all,” The scoff fell from her lips like an instinct, her free hand coming up and running through her hair as a few gentle chuckles were shared around the room at her remark.

“So, you think we’re good on the cop front?” Jay’s eyebrows raised in question, hands resting against the edge of the table as he leaned forward, as if to try and apply pressure to Eloise, as if to try and scare her by his physically higher position over her.

“Don’t see why not,” She shrugged, blinking blankly at Jay, “Patrols are gonna have their hands full over in Eisenhower, meanwhile the rest are going to be attending an overpacked football game where no one will be able to move their cars due to arrogance of the many football-maniacs that will also be attending,”

She laughed almost silently at the final part, remembering a story that Calum had shared of the last football game he attended, telling her of the time when he came out of the stadium with his dad only to have to wait for almost an hour to move his car because people had abandoned their vehicles left, right, and centre. The thought of him never had never left her throughout the entire meeting, the familiar warm face constantly playing on her mind as she sat and wondered what would happen to him if this went wrong. It didn’t just affect her, it impacted him in a way she couldn’t even begin to realise.

“Just think; by this time Saturday night we’ll be rollin’ in more money than we know what to do with,” Jay grinned, hands clasping together as he brought himself to his feet, palms sliding against one another greedily.

It always came back to money. Everything came back to the fucking money. But to Jay, this was the start of what he believed to be his climb to the top, his rise to power.

But all Eloise could think about was the desire to counteract his statement, to wipe the smug look off of his face and destroy every ounce of disgusting hope he had for what he wanted to achieve. She wanted to watch him crumble as she told him about how all he was going to become after Saturday night was another criminal who would spend the rest of his days behind bars, locked away from socialisation as the society he had transformed would dissipate into thin air.

It was a brief moment of want, the urge to watch Jay break surging through her, before she had to remind herself to wait. She knew she had to wait for her chance, to wait until the right moment on the night where she would be able to watch with front row seats as everything Jay worked to completely eradicate before his very eyes. 

Eloise’s ears became deaf to Jay’s words, the speech of how they were going to take their stand in the food chain that was the gang society within the city, this being their opportunity to climb up the ladder and make their success known. God, he talked so much shit. Her eyes fell to her boots beneath the table, eyes depicting the scuffs along the toes and sides while also noting the growing tear in the stitching where the sole connected with the toe of her boot. A new pair of boots were another thing that she had placed on the backburner, figuring it could be ignored until her boots quite literally fell off of her feet.

Her eyes subtly ventured across the room, head staying in place, watching how numerous members hung on Jay’s every word, many of them only doing so because they knew no better. Her lifestyle was so alike to others in this room, yet she couldn’t handle it anymore. She had lived this way for longer than a great deal of the men in the room, so why couldn’t she handle what she used to be so accustomed to?

Since she met Calum, so many things seemed to fall into place, they seemed to make sense. It was as if every time he touched her, he fixed a broken piece of her, allowing her to see past the blindness and lies she had been fed, to see the truthful answers to so many questions she had over the years. It allowed her to learn so much truth within so many lies. She pieced together why her mother fought so hard to keep her away from this life, why her mother was so willing to tarnish her own love with the man she married to protect her daughter. She pieced together why Ruby left one day and never came back, why Han had turned so cold towards the idea of love, playing it like a game. Every woman who was more than a toy to one of the Gypsy Kings had been the single thing that tried to create a divide between the lifestyle they led and the life they tried to create with those they loved, each one only ending with the same conclusion: to be a distant memory.

She felt her world freeze momentarily as her chocolate eyes met with the familiar golden ones of Scott. God, her heart hurt when she looked at him. He looked so lost, so hurt, so different, and yet the only thing she could focus on was how he looked at her. He didn’t look at her like he normally did, he looked to be hurt yes, but it was as if he was hurt by her, as if he felt nothing but disappointment as he searched for the familiar spark that he had grown up with. They both searched for the same thing in each other, the familiar warmth that settled in their stomachs knowing they were there for each other. But this time, there was nothing. There was no buzz, no fond smile, no friendship. And that hurt.

Eloise felt her heart crack at the way he watched her. He looked as if she was the one who had given him the bruise on his jaw, as if she were the one who had forced his hand to go into Staten Island and do what he did.

It was when his eyes broke with hers that she felt as though she saw the change in Scott solidify, as if before it was only a temporary covering that would fade, but now it was him. It was as if everything they had gone through meant nothing, as if he were more than was willing to forget it all and succumb to the hypnotic words of their rotten leader and toss her aside. But wasn’t that, in a way, what she was doing; throwing away everything they had to trap the Gypsy Kings and sell them out, ultimately betraying everyone she was supposed to look at as family? Maybe so, but she tried so hard to convince herself that this was different.

She practically jumped when she felt the tight weight fall on her shoulders, turning her head and finding Jay stood over her from behind, hands clamped around her shoulders as he squeezed, a proud laugh erupting from his chest. She wanted to shrink at his words, hearing how he praised her for her work, the weight of his hands matching the weight of her heart when she heard his next remark.

“You’re a real Gypsy King now,” Jay’s snake-like tongue suffocated the air as the words echoed throughout the room, as if he were announcing it, “Thomas’d be proud, a true Gypsy legacy carrying through the generations,”

Eloise pursed her lips, masking her grimace with a slight smirk, eyes falling to her lap as her hands fidgeted inside her pockets, fingers gripping onto her phone as she tried to focus on anything other than the words that Jay spoke. The mention of his name falling from his cold lips felt wrong, it felt dirty to hear a man with so much innocent blood on his hands speak of someone so close to her. She knew her father was no saint, but he was nothing like Jay, not even close.

He’d be proud…

No, he wouldn’t. Eloise wanted to be sick at the thought of someone being proud of her for doing what she had done in the past, for committing the wrongful acts she had participated in over the years because she knew no better. She had no guide throughout her teenage years, not a real one, since her dad died. She was a sheep for long enough, following what her friends did and craved for the ability to fit in somewhere and to belong. Eloise knew he wouldn’t be proud of who she was, but she did have a glimmer of hope that he would be proud of who she was becoming, even temporarily, as she tried to correct the wrong that she had done.

By the time Jay had finished up with the praising and going over small details in regard to the night, everyone took their leave, abandoning the hideout and disappearing into the night to return home or wherever it was that they went, Eloise was left alone at the table, her fingers twisting and turning her phone in her hands as she sat in her chair, unable to make herself move as she sat in the peaceful silence. The light above her had an orange tinge, the overcast adding a gentle glow to her skin as she thought to herself. No one had even said goodbye to her as they left, well no one except from Gabriel, a gentle pat on her shoulder being the silent goodbye he usually offered before he returned home to his small apartment in the east of Brooklyn.

Six days was all she had left. Well, six days and a few hours if she wanted to be precise… Such a small amount of time before her life would change forever. She only had to hold on just a little bit longer before she got to watch as everything Jay wanted would be taken from him, to be able to know that she had prevented any further destruction to be caused by him, but at the same time the small wait was also for what would possibly be when her own destruction would take full effect.

The threat Jay made at the very beginning played on her mind; simply threatening her to end up like her parents, but now it felt more real than ever that the – what was believed to be empty – threat would be a likely conclusion. She had no one to blame but herself, digging a hole so deep that no one could possibly help her get out of it.

It was times like these, when her mind was at its worst as it dug endless holes and created unanswerable questions that would puzzle her to no end, that she wished she had her mother with her. Eloise missed her dearly, but rarely wished wholeheartedly to have her around, not wanting to pain her heart any more than she already had. She missed the advice her mother used to give her, never really identifying it as advice instead mere suggestions. Eloise would run to her mother every time she had a question when she was a kid, or if she had an ultimatum to make, knowing her mother would always give her an answer she unknowingly wanted to hear.

Like when she was nine and couldn’t decide if she wanted to study butterflies or ladybugs for her personal project for school, or when she was ten and was left heartbroken because she didn’t get asked to go to the Christmas dance unlike most of the other girls in her class, thinking that her life was practically over. Very dramatic, Eloise.

Her mother would sit her down and explain to her that she was going to need to make a decision that made her happy, explaining that there would be many occasions throughout her life where Eloise would need to decide what was best for her, to strictly think of herself and put her own happiness before others. But Natalia always reminded her that there was a time and place to be selfish, always trying to teach her daughter how to be kind but also to be strong. Every pep talk she gave ended with the same somewhat finishing line, unintentionally sticking in her mind even when she didn’t really want it to.

She would always say that Eloise had a choice in everything she did, in every decision and every outcome; to decide if she was going to accept what happened and move on or if she was going to change it for the better.

God, if only she were still here, Eloise wished. What she would give to get some advice on what she should do, on where she should go from there. What she would give to have a hug right then; a warm motherly hug, something she hadn’t felt since she was eleven.

What that girl would give just to feel that comfort once more.

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