#and then she had an ally and she stopped acting like a battered woman and we were able to connect the way we needed to

[ourladyoftheflytrap]

I was talking to my nb a few weeks ago about our relationships with our parents and when I said something like "I don't expect you to forgive your parents because your parents treated you worse than mine did" he hit me with "I don't think that's true. I never slept in someone's shed to get away from My parents" and im sat here days later like 😶

[wouldpollyapprove]

Tortured, Broken, Brave

Request: imagine tommy accidentally blinding the reader- like she scared him and he just whips around and slices her- idk i’ve been thinking about it and i kinda want a request?

Requested by Anonymous

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Violence, mention of war. mention of ptsd

A/N: I was so torn with this. I love the idea because Tommy is such a complex character when it comes to emotions. You may think he’ll react one way but it’ll be the total opposite. I just had such a hard time deciding on if I wanted it to be a blurb or a headcanon. In the end, I think it’s more of a oneshot an pretty pleased with it.

Masterlist

It had been a year since the war that tore apart the world ended. A year since the men who were left standing returned home. And it had been a year since Y/n had greeted the love of her life, the shell of the man who had left four years earlier.

Like everyone who protected the home-front, Y/n knew that Tommy wouldn’t be the same once he returned home. As it was expected, she wasn’t surprised by the sleepless nights. In the dark hours of the evening, she’d sit beside her husband, give him the comfort he needed, whether he wanted to be held or just sit in silence next to her. Whatever he needed, Y/n gave him. Over time, Tommy began to heal, or so he led everyone to believe. 

  Stepping back into the family business, Thomas Shelby pretended to be a bronze statue: strong and mighty. With no scratches or dents to ruin his polished exterior, many thought the man was untouchable. And, for the most part, he was. His whole family could see that the war tortured the happy boy that lived inside him, leaving him battered and broken. The once happy personality that was evident in his smile and bright eyes, ran for the hills, hiding in a place where it couldn’t be found. The man Tommy used to be was never to return, a fact that Y/n would have to get used to.

Y/n shut the door behind her quickly in a daft attempt to keep the cold air out. It would still seep in under the door and through the thin window panes, but she didn’t like to think about that. Unwrapping her scarf, she hung it on the coat rack, silently wondering if her husband was home. Tommy was at the betting shop when she’d left for the market, that had been hours ago but the place had become his second home since his return and wouldn’t have surprised her if he was going over the books in his office. Y/n took the basket of produce she’d collected to the kitchen before setting off to find Tommy.

Silently, she crept through the house, searching for a sign of life. Usually, it wasn’t hard to tell if he was home. Tommy liked to perch himself in the drawing-room with a cigarette and paperwork, but as she stood in the archway, her husband couldn’t be seen. Moving along, Y/n walked pasted the guest bedroom. It had been turned into a makeshift office and, down the road, it would hopeful become a nursery. Taking a few steps back, Y/n caught sight of light seeping under the office door. As it was ajar, she didn’t bother knocking, though she knew it would have been best, a lightly pushed against the wood with her knuckles. Her footsteps were absorbed by the wood flooring, not a sound echoing through the room as she approached the man hunched over the small desked. 

“You wor-” Y/n started, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before she was violently cut off, the feeling of flesh being torn as cool metal sliced threw her tender skin. Adrenaline pumping threw her viens, she stumbled back, clutching her cheek. In front of her, Tommy stood, wide-eyed and horrified, with a blade, crimson red in color as her blood dripped onto the floor.

The blade clattered against the hardwood, Tommy’s face turning an alarming shade white. His hands shook as he held them up, “What have I done?” he muttered to himself, but his wife caught it.

In any other circumstance, Y/n would have fled the room, searching for safety, but she saw no danger from where she stood. Slowly she lowered her blood-stained hands and stepped towards the broken man in front of her like he was a wounded animal. “Tommy, hey, it’s alright. Just a cut,” she smiled at him, hoping it would bring back some color in him. It did not. “It’ll mend in a day or two.”

He shook his head, raking a hand threw his already disheveled hair. “No, no it’s not. It not.” He shook his head once more and walked past her and into the hall. The expression, that of a man that believed he deserved the noose, brought tears to Y/n’s eyes. She knew that Tommy often wished the war had taken him, but to see it written clearly on his face made her want to drown him in love and never let the nasty world touch him.

Alone in her thoughts, Y/n was left to tend to her own wound as Tommy left the house, drowning in misery. Tommy had never raised a hand to her, something he swore he would never do, he was likely walking along the canal, kicking himself for his actions. Knowing him like the back of her hand, Y/n knew he thought she’d only disregarded what he’d done because she was trying to make him feel better, feel less like a monster. But that wasn’t the case. As Y/n whipped a damp cloth across her face, she forgave him.

The war had left him empty and Y/n knew it would take time for him to become whole again. It was foolish of her to scare him like that, his reaction was on her whether he saw it that way or not. All she wanted was for him to get better, to allow himself to heal, that couldn’t be done if he feared what he was capable of.

That night, Tommy didn’t come home, leaving a cold spot next to Y/n where he was supposed to be. Y/n didn’t lay eyes on him until the next morning at work where he had suddenly become an expert at avoiding her. She didn’t try to seek him out, knowing he needed space, so she kept to her desk and tried to do her work.

“What’s going on?” Polly asked, leaning against Y/n’s desk as the young woman typed up a letter. 

Y/n raised a brow, not lifting her eyes from the work in front of her. “What do you mean?” she asked even though she knew.

Polly folded her arms across her chest and glanced at her nephew, who was pacing in his office. “You have a cut on your cheek, Tommy has practically locked himself in his office, and you’ve been at your desk all day. You can’t tell me something didn’t happen.”

A sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair. It was silly of her to believe people wouldn’t notice. On a normal day, Y/n would usually do her work in her husband’s office as he did his own. Tommy liked to have her near, it calmed him, bringing the restless man peace. Her desk was often abandoned except for the few times a meeting was taking place that she wasn’t a part of. To have her sit at her desk all day was virtually unheard of. As the office was practically empty, almost everyone was out for lunch, Y/n took a deep breath and looked at the ground, ashamed with herself. “I snuck up on Tommy last night. I didn’t mean to, didn’t think anything of it, and it scared him and he cut me.”

A gasp split the older woman’s lips, “He cut you?” her words were laced with disgust causing Y/n to cringe. 

“It’s not his fault, Pol. He’s been jumpy and he has night terrors. I should have expected this,” Y/n admitted, resting her head in her hands. “He was horrified with what he’d done and… he felt, practically ran out the door and didn’t come home. Now, he won’t look me in eye and I’m afraid of what he’s doing to himself because of this.”

Polly sighed, taking a moment to think. She’d dealt with plenty of men in her life, drunks, gamblers, players, cheaters, but she’d never dealt with men as broken as the Great War had created. She wanted to be angry at her nephew, Thomas knew better, but she knew with the state of his mind, it was often hard for him to enemy from ally. “Talk to him,” she shrugged. “Force him to listen to you, God knows you’re the only one who gets threw to him.”

“What do I say?”

Pushing herself off the desk, Polly smiled at her. “If you love him, you’ll know exactly what to say.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. Her husband’s aunt was a wise woman but she wasn’t one to give a straight answer. But she did as suggested and stood from her desk, pushed the wrinkles out of her skirt, and tapped her fingers against Tommy’s office door. Before an answer could be given, she let herself in, the owner shocked to see her enter. 

“I’m busy, Y/n,” Tommy informed her, peering at her threw his lashes before moving his eyes back to his work. Stepping closer, his wife stood in front of his desk and waited for him to glance up at her once more. He huffed in frustration and gave in, dropping his pen and sitting up to look at her. “What?”

“You didn’t come home last night, where’d you go?”

He shook his head, a sad smile present on his lips. “Does it matter? Why would you care where I’ve been when I did that to you?” He gestured to the cut on her cheek. 

It was Y/n’s turn to shake her head. Coming around the desk, she moved his chair so he was facing her and cupped his face in her hands, leaning over him. “It matter’s because you, Thomas Shelby, you stubborn arse, are my husband and I love you. I worry about you every fucking day!” she exclaimed, locking her y/e/c with his blue ones. 

“But I…” he trailed off, tears pooling in his eyes. 

Standing between his legs, Y/n pulled him against her, letting his head rest against her stomach. “But nothing. What happened last night was unavoidable, it was bound to happen. You aren’t as tough as you’d like the world to believe and you need to stop acting like it. I’m here,” she petted his hair as his tears soaked her blouse. “I’m here for you and I’ll help with whatever you need.”

Tommy pulled away, eyes red and puffy. “What if it happens again, Y/n? I can barely live with what I did to you. What if we have children and that happens? What if they think I’m a monster?”

Heart aching, Y/n wished she could absorb all his pain, take it away before any more damage could be done to him. “Hey, don’t think like that,” she frowned, caressing his cheek. “Our children will love you just as I do. They will think you’re a brave man, who fought for them when they were just a twinkle in his eyes.”

Letting his wife hold him once more, Tommy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, voice muffled against the material of her shirt.

Y/n smiled, “I thought Thomas Shelby didn’t apologize?” she teased. Her husband pulled away a little, flashing her that smile that she fell in love with all those years ago, and pulled her into his lap, a chorus of giggles escaping her lips.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he shook his head before peppering her neck with kisses.

“That’s the idea.”

*~~*~~*

Let me know if you like to be added to any of the taglists and feedback is always apprecaiated.

Permanent: @amirahiddleston @haphazardhufflepuff @woahitslucyylu @mzcrazy2 @lovemissyhoneybee @multi-fandom-iimagines @tarafaithe @jenepleurepasbaby @fernweh-fangirl @the-anxious-youth @theshelbyclan @wtfdanness @chloeforde @futuristicslimemongerbanana @auds24 @lucillethings @nemesis729 @sirkekselord @princesscornbread @i-volunteer-for-finnick @iwillboilyourteeth @anyasthoughts @ellieemais

Peaky Blinders: @simonsbluee @queenofmankind

Thomas Shelby: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @imnotuglyimjustpredebut @creativemayhems

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Seven

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: Liam x Riley

Series Summary: After losing the love of his life, Liam is left with a newborn daughter and a council that demands he endure another social season quickly. Not wanting to move on, he gets help from an unlikely ally – his late wife.

C/N: This story is going somewhere different from how it originally started. I had said from the beginning I wasn’t sure how this fic would be taken because it would be so out of the ordinary. And while the first four chapters could be stand-alones, I always intended for it to continue on in this unconventional way. If you no longer wish to be tagged in it, just let me know and no hard feelings.

T.W.: Mention of a previous rape and examination. Mental health.

Thank you to @burnsoslow​ for beta reading,  all of my snippet readers, and those who have messaged me several times about this story.

If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have not heard, I would still know you. –Lang Leav

It is said that the purest kind of love has the power to overcome any obstacle, break through any barrier, to make miracles happen where none existed before. For Liam and Riley, it was fate that brought them together in a New York City bar, and it was love that carried them through many, dark trials.

A passioned romance that started between a prince and a waitress became the epic love story legends were made of. After defeating every enemy that stood in their way, they married in front of the world, ruled side-by-side, and created the most significant symbol of their absolute devotion to one another – a daughter. Neither one ever imagined living in this life without the other … it wasn’t possible. They existed solely for the purpose and betterment of the other.

In what took an act of God to bring them together, took only the evil of man to separate them.

Liam had spent the weeks following her untimely death in a grief-stricken state of misery and torment. He never knew a heart could feel so much pain, nor a body experience so much affliction, missing the one who was the greatest part of himself. Riley was his joy, where none existed and comfort in every sense of the word. Ellie’s presence could only numb a portion of the sting, but not enough to fill the void his soulmate left behind. When Liam spoke to his wife each night, he never questioned whether his messages of eternal love and ’missing his girl,’ fell on spiritually deaf ears. Even with a vast abyss that divided their worlds … somehow … someway … Riley heard every tear he had shed and every expression of sorrow he spoke.

He needed her.

Where time no longer existed, Riley’s soul saw a tiny window of opportunity and literally moved heaven and earth to get back to her one true love. She knew she was the only one who could save him now.

____________

A broken, battered body laid motionless on a cold emergency room stretcher,  surrounded by the hustle and hurried activity of doctors and nurses. In and out of consciousness, the woman’s eyes flickered open when a gloved hand prodded the open wound on the side of her head. The sensation of flesh being ripped away with each poke elicited a scream so chilling, a startled, first-year nurse dropped a tray of metal instruments that crashed and clanked to the floor.  

The patient felt a chilly draft of air as the tattered remains of her shirt and bra were cut down the middle, exposing her marked and bruised breast. EKG electrodes were attached to her chest, and the tangled web of wires that were connected to the monitor came alive with erratic lines and buzzes. Her long brown hair that clumped together in sanguineous knots was swept to the side to remove her gold hoop earrings. Tweezers pinched and bore into the delicate skin of her murky palms, extracting deep thistles and thorns.  What seemed to take hours while portable x-rays were shot, lesions stitched and bandaged, and several infusions of liquids and blood being attached to the tube that ran into her forearm – she was given clear and concise information about the intrusive examination that would soon follow.

A kindly hand held onto hers as another one gently rolled up the sheet that draped over her legs and nudged them apart. Questions were lobbed at her from all directions, but she had no answers. This woman didn’t know what happened, why she was in the hospital, nor the description of who did this to her.  The only thing she remembered at that moment, before waking up on the bristly ground of the park, was Liam crying out for her in their bedroom.

Her gravelly voice went unnoticed when she begged for the examination to stop. It was clear from her feelings of utter filth, the kind that made her skin crawl, this body had been through quite an ordeal. She was told to remain still and relaxed; after what had happened to her, this would provide the evidence needed to ensure justice was served. The truth was, it wasn’t her that experienced what the former personal assistant-turned-nanny to the Cordonian Princess had gone through. What happened to this body took place before Amanda Talbert died, and the spirit of Riley Brooks took over it.

Riley flinched, and her fist gripped a little tighter to the sheet that covered the upper portion of her body. The first of several swabs and probes to her most sensitive areas made her stomach squeamish with nausea. An astute nurse noticed the greenish color that pooled into Riley’s face and thrust an emesis basin next to her cheek to collect the contents of the excretion she expelled. With tears pricking her eyes, Riley eased her throbbing head back onto the pillow when she was finished; the earlier words of a physician telling her ‘how lucky she was to be alive,’ playing over and over in her mind. If Riley didn’t feel like she had just returned to hell-on-earth, she might have found this ironic statement amusing.  

A female officer scraped a wooden applicator under her fingernails, collecting debris, and dropped it into an evidence bag. “Miss, can you tell me your name again?” she asked while labeling the contents with a black marker.

Riley moistened her dry lips with her tongue as she blankly stared straight up at the ceiling. “Riley Brooks,” she whispered hesitantly, keenly aware of the low snickers her answer had drawn from everyone in the room each time the question was asked.

“Very well, Miss … Brooks.” Riley heard the officer reply with a loud exhale and a clipped voice before labeling the bag – Jane Doe.

This wasn’t the reunion Riley had anticipated. She knew her work would be cut out for her considering she didn’t know who she had become or how she would even get to Liam. Just that the perfect person and the perfect opportunity came along, that made it possible for her to be in his orbit. She would worry about the complexities of the situation later, but right now, Riley wanted to find Liam before he destroyed himself.

__________________

Drake poured another glass of water and handed it to Liam, who was sitting up in his hospital bed. He thanked his friend and took a long drink before handing the empty cup back. Liam rolled his head in an attempt to get the tension and knots that a month’s worth of stress had set in. His eyes glanced up to the doctor who paced silently at the foot of his bed, flipping through a chart full of test results and nodding his head in assent while he scrutinized each page.

Feeling frustrated by several minutes worth of silence that was then followed by faint mumblings from this doctor, Liam tapped his finger over his pursed lips with a peculiar expression he hoped the older man would recognize as impatience from his King. He finally scratched the back of his head when his antics hadn’t garnered the attention he had hoped for and decided to express his displeasure over his wait through other means. He let out a heavy sigh and flopped back boisterously into the stacks of pillows that were positioned behind his back.

Drake nudged Bastien in the arm and leaned into his ear. “What the hell did they give him?

The doctor gave a sideways glance before removing his wire-rimmed glasses and placing them back into the pocket of his lab coat. He stood a little taller and turned to face Liam with the opened binder that he had just analyzed cover-to-cover. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I wanted to be thorough in your care and ensure I had a complete understanding of your … situation.”

Liam bolted up at the chosen words to describe him and cocked his head. “What is my … situation … Doctor Ganos?” He asked with an embittered tone. Liam already knew the answer to his question. He had lost his wife, there were still no leads in her murder, he had been betrayed during that morning’s council meeting by Neville, he was now expected to take part in another social season he wanted nothing to do with and twice heard the voice of his late wife.

“Your situation - ” Doctor Ganos, replied nervously as he walked around the bed to Liam’s side. “you’re severely dehydrated for one. I would venture to guess you are also physically and mentally exhausted.”

“That is what caused him to lock the door, toss his clothes around the damn bedroom, and then collapse onto the floor?” Drake asked skeptically.

The doctor turned to Drake, not sure if he should answer his questions, but figured the King would speak up if he didn’t want anything pertaining to his medical records mentioned in front of him. “It’s certainly a huge part of it … yes.” His gaze turned back to Liam with a thoughtful expression. “Based on the very public knowledge of what you have been through since Queen Riley died and the symptoms you described experiencing just before collapsing in your room, I would surmise you had a panic attack. A complete mental breakdown.”

The conversation was interrupted by Bastien’s phone, who then apologized, excused himself, and walked just outside the private hospital room. Another guard took Bastien’s place in the room, and the doctor cleared his throat to continue the basis of his diagnosis. Liam may have felt some trepidation over the words, complete mental breakdown, yet wasn’t surprised by them in the least. He knew he wasn’t the same man he was before and had felt the excruciating toll his body and mind had undergone. He wanted to get back to Ellie, but Doctor Ganos insisted on keeping him through the night to rehydrate him through I.V. fluids and to observe him more closely.

Drake called the palace and checked in on Ellie for Liam, passing along to him that no one knew where Amanda was, but Hana was staying with the baby for the night, and she was fine. Drake crooked a finger through the closed blinds of Liam’s hospital room and peeked out, noting the orange and pinkish hues that colored the horizon as the sun started to make its descent over Cordonia. It had been one hell of a day for everyone. He knew when he woke up this morning that Neville’s call for a council meeting would turn into a shit-show, but never guessed his sworn enemy’s actions would cause his best friend to end his day in a hospital. He knew Neville wasn’t the only reason Liam was so broken, but he sure as fuck had an unnecessary hand in making things worse for him.

Drake slumped into a plush chair in the corner of the best room in the hospital – the one reserved for nobility. The last time anyone occupied this room, he reflected, was the night Riley died. It seemed almost cruel that Liam had to be subjected to such a memory, but the medication that was shot into his veins had somehow caused his friend to not even notice.

“I heard her voice, Drake.”

Drake lifted his tired head from the back of the chair and raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“Riley … I heard her last night. Then again in the bedroom before … you know.” Liam glared at Drake for a moment, attempting to read his body language for a skeptical reaction, but felt relief when there was none. Curious to know what Drake thought and what others may be thinking as well, he let out a low sigh.  “Do you think I’m crazy?”

Drake chuckled lightly. “Considering you let Maxwell have access to the palace armory, I think that makes you certifiable at this point.”

“Drake.”

“No, I don’t think you’re crazy. If you say, you heard her … I believe it.”

Truthfully, Drake didn’t know what to believe. If Liam was comforted in some way by what he thought he may have heard, then who was he to tell him otherwise. Inwardly, however, he was worried about his friend.

Bastien slipped back in and placed his phone in his pants pocket. A look of sheer shock entangled across his face. He nodded anxiously to Liam, who shifted in his bed towards his guard. In all of his loyal years of service to the Crown, he had never felt more like he was about to face a firing squad than he did at that moment. “Your Majesty, I just received a call on a breakthrough in the investigation of the Queen’s death.”

Drake rose to his feet, and Liam pushed himself up higher in his bed, his heart raced impatiently. He had been waiting for any development and was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of any leads. He insisted he continues.

“The guards working the investigation received an anonymous tip earlier. It seems -”  Bastien paused knowing the implications of his reveal would be huge and unsettling for his charge, but also he felt a great deal of remorse for not finding this information out earlier. “it seems your nanny, Amanda Talbert, was in possession of the exact same cyanide capsules found in your wife’s body. Our guards were summoned to a local park where they found the pills in her purse. And … a more thorough look into her background revealed her name isn’t even Amanda Talbert, but that of Victoria Cirillo, a Monterissan citizen of birth and first cousin to …”

Drake dropped his head and groaned. “Amalas.”

The air became thick with an eerie silence. The sharpest sword and blade in the world, couldn’t have cut the tension that absorbed that room at that moment. After mulling over the intelligence he had just received, Liam sat up calmly … almost too calmly,  and tossed the sheet off his body. He rose to his bare feet at the side of the bed.

Liam eyed Bastien with a merciless gaze. “What the fuck am I paying you for? How was all of this missed by the guards? I mean, this woman has been caring for my daughter, in my home, for weeks.”  Feeling the dizzying effects of the medication he had been given, Liam sat back down on the edge of his bed, kneading the sides of his temples. “Is it too much to assume they have her in custody, at least?”

Bastien let out a shaky breath. “About that, sir …  there is something else you need to know.”

______________________________

Riley woke to a cold, dark room, having slept off a good portion of the pain medication she had been given before being wheeled to a room.  A sharp, stabbing pain ran across her head from the now bandaged wound at its side, into her throbbing, swollen eyes. Her shaky hand bounced on her bed, searching earnestly for the call button while she squeezed her eyes shut and willed the agony to go away on its own. A few minutes later, after pressing the button repeatedly, a nurse filed in with the relief she sought. It took longer than she anticipated to feel its effects, but once it finally kicked in, she was able to relax.

A warm flush came over her body, and she lowered the sheet down to her waist to cool off. She was tired still, but couldn’t sleep, and there was nothing to do, but lay there and wait. Wait for what exactly, though? She didn’t know.

Her mind began to wander to Liam and Eliie. She had no idea how she would be able to get to them, to see them, to be able to hold them both in her arms again.  It would undoubtedly be a shock to him, yet in her mind, maybe, just maybe, he knew her well enough to be able to see through outward appearances.

A memory suddenly came to her about visiting a friend in the hospital several years ago. Riley lifted her hand and placed it on top of the tray table that sat next to her bed and rolled its top over her torso. She lifted the lid of the table and was relieved to find precisely what she was looking for.  A small, rectangular mirror was pulled out, and Riley held it in front of her face. Even in the darkness, she was able to turn her head just enough to catch the moonlight shining through the window.

She looked closer, not sure she saw who she actually saw and then gasped. “Oh my god! Amanda?”

Riley was taken aback and couldn’t stop staring at herself in the mirror. Even with the cuts and bruises that littered this face, she couldn’t believe it was her personal assistant who had died so that she could return.

She had considered her a good friend, and they had grown quite close in the weeks before Ellie’s birth and following her delivery. Riley felt a sudden ache in her heart, knowing the hell her friend must have gone through before her soul left her body. It was clear from the wounds that covered her skin and the excruciating rape exam Riley had undergone earlier, Amanda’s ending was brutal and traumatic.

The lights from the hallway suddenly cast brightly into her room and caused Riley to squint her eyes and look away. She placed the mirror on top of the tray, knowing another nurse was most likely coming in to check her vitals. Glancing back at the doorway, that's when she saw his face. Her gleaming, brown eyes widened when it met his wrathful, blue ones.

“Liam!”

“Amanda.”

[gifts-of-heimdall-runes]

“Wodan, Id est Furor.” (Woden, that is Frenzy.) With these words, eleventh-century chronicler Adam of Bremen described Odin, one of the best known and most compelling of all the Norse Gods. Odin is frenzy, furor, hunger, and drive. These things define this God's nature, and quite often they come to define those who serve Him too.  He is the All-Father, the Chieftain of the Aesir Gods, the Master of the Runes, God of warriors, kings, poets, and shamans. He is a complex God, as even the briefest description of His surviving praise names – or heiti – show. He is a God of hunger, power, knowledge, ecstasy, magic, kingship, and war. He was worshipped across Germany, Scandinavia, Anglo-Saxon lands, and Iceland. He is worshipped and venerated across the world today.

Odin is a restless, wandering God. First, He was the ravening storm wind battering at the borders and boundaries of the human world. He was called Wodenaz and was a raw and terrifying God, a spirit of wind and storm and fury. It was only much later, a time so long ago our eldest ancestors would be hard pressed to recall even its barest memory, that through His constant wanderings for power, knowledge, and above all else wisdom, He learned to wear the masks of civilization, and He became a God of kings, poets, magicians, shamans, and far-seeing wanderers as well.

Odin is a God of magic and power. His most well known tale (and one of His core mysteries) tells of how He went in search of that power. First, He sought out Yggdrasil, the Tree of Sacrifice, of Knowledge, the World Tree whose branches support all of creation. He ascended its boughs, cut Himself with His own spear allowing His blood to wet its hungry bark, and hung Himself there for nine days and nine nights. This was His ordeal, His agony, His triumph. This sacrifice tore open the fabric of creation and allowed the Rune Spirits to seize Him up, and His pain and sacrifice allowed Him to seize the runes in turn. He brought this power and knowledge forth and from then on became known as the Master of Runes. Not satisfied, He went to His maternal uncle Mimir, who holds sovereignty over the Well of Wisdom, an eldritch place nestled in hidden roots of the Tree, avoided by men and Gods alike. He asked Mimir for a draught from the well, for one sip would give Him wisdom in equal measure to His knowledge. There is always a price for such things – a gift demands a gift our ancestral wisdom teaches – and so Mimir named the price: one of Odin's eyes. Without hesitation, Odin plucked it out and seized His prize. Thus He became not only a Master of ordeal, but a shaman to Whom no world is closed … well, no world but one. He cannot enter the realm of the dead. I personally believe it is because He died on the Tree and by His will alone brought Himself back to life and were He to enter Hela's realm, His life would be forfeit for no one, not even a God, can escape the obligation of death twice, not in the very territory the Goddess of Death governs.

This ties into another facet of Odin's nature as well: His reliance on and trust in powerful women. Time and again He seeks out powerful Jotun women for their counsel. He calls upon human prophetesses and seers, He surrounds Himself with wise and powerful females including His warrior Valkyries. Many of His most fervent contemporary devotees are also women. In the Poetic Edda, He first mentions one of His female mentors in the Havamal where He talks about the Goddess Gunnlod. Gunnlod had charge over the mead of poetry and inspiration. Odin wanted this. So, to shorten a long and convoluted tale, Odin came to Gunnlod’s father with the face of Bölverk, the Baleworker. He became a snake. He slithered deep into the mountain where this mighty chieftainess bore stewardship over that sacred mead. This mead was a toxin. It seared the warp and weft of the wyrd of all it touched. No man could bear it. No man could taste it without eventually being corroded by it. It was a gift with a terrible blood price. It had a body count -- it was formed by the terrible death and dismemberment of the Vanir God Kvasir, and many people had died trying to steal it. It was a curse that Gunnlod was sent to guard. Odin bartered, negotiated, serpent power for poison, and She taught Him the way of wearing civilization on his face. He gave Her what She sought; She gave Him the mead. He took that poison inside Himself. He brought it full circle to Her in Their union. Ecstatic Poetry was born, when having devoured that searing brew, it was transformed. It took Them both to free the soul of Kvasir, else bound forever in the blood-hued drops of the mead created by an ancient greedy act of alchemy and slaughter. It took them both to manifest the fullness of its ecstatic power. Through Their union, Odin gained the mead of poetry and Gunnlod gained a son born of that poetic fire: the God Bragi.

Odin is wed to the Goddess Frigga, and in every surviving instance in lore, when the two of Them go up against each other, it is Frigga Who inevitably emerges triumphant. She is every bit as skillful, wise, and cunning as He and, I suspect, every bit as ruthless. She is a power-broker extraordinaire. He has many sons in addition to Bragi: Thor, Baldr, Vali, Vidar, Hermod, Hod, Heimdall. (Snorri Sturluson claims Tyr, but I don’t believe it.) He begat a line of kings by the Goddess Skaði, and sired Baldr’s avenger in a brutal encounter with the Giantess Rind. There may be more, as many of the surviving texts are somewhat contested in this respect, and He has at least as many human sons recognized in the surviving lore, having a penchant after all for fathering heroes. Once, when His son Thor challenged Him to a game of verbal insult (a rather Norse equivalent of “playing the dozens”, I’d warrant), to each instance of Thor's proclaimed prowess in battle, Odin fires back with another tale of seduction of one or another of His women.

Odin is not blind to the power inherent in sex. It, like everything else, is a tool in His quest for power. In His search for knowledge of magic and sorcery, He loved for a year as a woman, and is said to have bedecked Himself in women's garb and to have engaged in women's magic. One of His names, Jalkr, even means “gelding”. Freya was a master sorceress, and this type of gender transgression and sexual submission was necessary for Him to learn to be opened to the flow of the type of power She wields. He may be Master of Asgard, but He was and is ruthless in His search for experience, knowledge, wisdom, and power, and allows nothing, especially not something like gender or sexuality, to stop Him.  Men who consciously choose to submit can do so as an offering to Him, in honor of this particular sacrifice made in His search and acquisition of both skill and power.

Odin has many allies. He is known to have in His company two ravens – Huginn and Muninn – whose names translate to Thought and Memory. It is said He fears the loss of the first, but not so much as the loss of the second. He has two wolves – Geri and Freki – both names of which mean “hunger”. He sits on a throne named Hildskjalf from which He can see anything in all the worlds, and He bears a mighty spear Gungnir; when He hurls it against an army wars begin. He is the spear God, the Raven God, the High God. He rides a mighty eight-legged grey steed Sleipnir, who is the child of His blood brother Loki. He is a Seeker of Power and a Wielder of Fury. He is the maker of heroes, goad of warriors, Master of the Wild Hunt, an army of wandering and fierce dead.  He is a master diviner, a magician, and also a healer. His name means “ecstatic fury” and He often bestowed this on poets and warriors alike. For the latter it manifested as the famed berserkergang. Wednesday is His day and nine is His number.

He is a God of extremes, of a focus so brutally vicious that it leaves no room for anything else. I call Him “God of my Longing” (and many other names) and those who love Him sing His praises and adorations. He is a complex and terrifying God and throughout the lands and peoples by which He was worshipped, He was given many epithets. I have no way to tally the names His devotees call Him in the hard and secret fastness of their hearts.

In the end, praise Him. Praise His hungers. Praise His ruthlessness. Praise the way He takes us up. Praise His sacrifices. Praise Odin, God of the bloody tree.

Source: Galina Krasskova

Artist: Grace Palmer

[creepingsharia]

They Are ‘Infidels and No Good!’: Muslim Persecution of Christians, March 2019

“a Christian living in a majority Muslim country is 143 times more likely to be killed by a Muslim for being a Christian than a Muslim is likely to be killed by a non-Muslim in a Western country for being what he is.” 

by Raymond Ibrahim

When it comes to violence between Muslims and non-Muslims, March news was dominated by the Christchurch, New Zealand massacres, where an Australian man killed 51 Muslims in two mosques on March 15.   However, to place matters in perspective, a statistical report did some number crunching and found that “a Christian living in a majority Muslim country is 143 times more likely to be killed by a Muslim for being a Christian than a Muslim is likely to be killed by a non-Muslim in a Western country for being what he is.”  Although the report refers to the persecution of Christians by Muslims as “the most egregious example of human right violations in today’s world”—citing the fact that “at least 4,305 Christians … were murdered by Muslims because of their faith in 2018” and that “300 million Christians, overwhelmingly in the majority-Muslim countries, were subjected to violence”—it found other, similar disparities.  For example, based on precedent and in one country alone, France, “Frenchmen are exactly ten times more likely to be murdered by a Muslim than a Muslim being killed by a non-Muslim terrorist anywhere in the Western world.” 

The following report, which documents the widespread persecution of Christians in the month of March alone, further confirms these disparities:

The Massacre of Christians

Nigeria: As in previous months, dozens of Christians were massacred and churches destroyed at the hands of Muslims in the West Africa nation.  A partial list follows:

On March 4, Muslims slaughtered 23 Christian villagers.  “It was bad,” said a local in reference to the incident. “Some were killed by gunshots and some by machete hacks!… The displaced persons are scattered all over…”   

Three days later, the Muslim terrorists launched another raid in the same area; three people were killed.  Commenting on that attack, a local pastor said, “Even today, they attacked. One of my members came to report that his father was killed, and another member said his son-in-law was also killed.”

On March 11 Muslim tribesmen slaughtered over 70 Christians and injured 28 in another region in Kaduna State. According to eyewitnesses, the terrorists were “torching houses, shooting and hacking down anything that moved.”  About 100 houses were destroyed in the attack.  Another report notes that “[t]he victims included women and children. According to survivors, their assailants divided into three groups; one group was shooting, another set fire to homes as people ran away, and the third waited in the bush to intercept fleeing villagers.”

On March 16, Muslim herdsmen killed another 10 Christians in southern Kaduna state, “bringing the lives lost in the past five weeks to 140 with 160 houses destroyed” said the report. “We were all asleep in our various homes when at about 4 a.m., we heard gunshots everywhere in my village,” explained a local Christian. “Everyone ran out of their homes to escape from the Fulani herdsmen. Three hours after the herdsmen left, those of us who survived the attack returned to the village to find that [30 of] our houses were destroyed and 10 of our villagers killed.”

On March 14, Boko Harem jihadis attacked another predominantly Christian village; although most people managed to flee into the bush, they killed one person, kidnapped two sisters,  and burned down a church and six homes.  A church leader said the local pastor had called him soon after the raid:  “I could hear desperation in his voice, just coming out of the bush. His voice sounded completely demoralized as he was saying only God… We don’t know what else to do! There’s no security presence here.”   The church leader further “regrets that these attacks are rarely reported on by the local media anymore. As a result, their people continue to suffer in silence, with minimal help from others.”

On March 23, right after “beating, raping and killing a 19-year-old Christian woman,” Muslims attacked two predominantly Christian villages, and burned down 28 Christian homes and two churches.  Joy Danlami and her younger sister and brother, 16 and 14 respectively, were ambushed while walking home from a Christian community feast; the two younger siblings survived with machete and gunshot wounds.  According to their father,  “The armed herdsmen chased them with dangerous weapons. Joy’s nose and face was battered, and then she was sexually assaulted by the herdsmen before being killed. She was shot.” 

After finding the slaughtered body of a kidnapped Catholic priest who had been abducted two weeks earlier, two other church leaders were also kidnapped on March 25.  One of the men, the Rev. Emmanuel Haruna of the Evangelical Church Winning All, was seized at gunpoint outside his church.   Earlier, in 2016 he had spoken out against Muslim tribesmen raids on Christian communities: “Fulani herdsmen take their cattle to farms of our church members and destroy their crops, and security agents have not been able to take measures to stop them.”  The report adds that “It is estimated by the United Nations Centre for Peace and Disarmament that of the 500 million illegal weapons that flooded into West Africa after the Libyan crisis in 2011, 350 million (70%) ended up in Nigeria, supplying the predominantly Muslim herders with added teeth in their campaign against Christian farmers.”

On Sunday, March 10, “Boko Haram Suicide bombers tried to enter a Catholic Church service,” says a report: 

The two bombers, who were women, tried to enter the church through a clinic before being stopped, and then detonating the bombs a short distance outside the church. Despite the two bombs going off, only one person other than the bombers was reportedly injured…..  It is very likely that the two bombers were captives of Boko Haram who were forced to commit this attack. Boko Haram is known for kidnapping women and children and forcing them to act as suicide bombers for their attacks. In 2017, between January and August, UNICEF reported on at least 83 children having been used by the group as suicide bombers.

Democratic Republic of Congo:  “Islamic militants,” notes a report, “attacked the dominantly Christian village of Kalau in the North Kivu province.”  Six Christians, including three women and a 9-year-old child, were slaughtered.  The rest of the villagers, “an estimated 470 families evacuated their homes following the incident.”  The terrorists are part of the Allied Democratic Forces, “a group that was designed to overthrow the Ugandan government in the 90’s and replace it with an Islamic regime. The group has been known for associating with other terrorist groups such as al-Shabaab and al-Qaeda. They are responsible for thousands of deaths…”

Attacks on Churches

Ethiopia: In a rampage that lasted five hours, large Muslim mobs shouting “Allahu Akbar” (Allah is greater) attacked ten churches, “destroying one and burning the property inside all the structures,” says a report.   The attacks, which were apparently sparked by a false rumor that a local mosque had been attacked, occurred in “a predominantly Muslim town with nearly all Christians there having moved from surrounding villages for work reasons, creating an underlying tension.”  Several Christians were injured and required hospital treatment.  One of the desecrated churches has since been vandalized again, and its Christians threatened and harassed.  Although only one church was destroyed during the rampage, “the other nine church buildings were not set ablaze only because of the risk to neighboring Muslim-owned properties,” says the report.   Instead, “[t]he contents of all the churches were removed from the buildings and set on fire on the street…. Huge amounts of property were destroyed, including Bibles, song books, instruments, benches and chairs.” 

The report incorrectly refers to these attacks as “unprecedented.”   For example, last year, 19 churches were torched—and 15 Christian priests killed, four burned alive—during Muslim uprisings  in the east, where most of Ethiopia’s 33 percent Muslim population is centered.  Similarly, in 2011, after a Christian was accused of desecrating a Koran, “Muslim extremists set fire to roughly 50 churches and dozens of Christian homes.” 

Sudan:  A report by the Humanitarian Aid Relief Trust (HART), a UK based NGO, found that 72 churches were either torched or demolished in the Nuba Mountains region in 2018.  Elaborating on these developments, a separate report notes that the “Nuba Mountains is home to the Sudan People’s Liberation Movement North,” which is “fighting the oppression of the Sudanese National government.”

Due to this, the Sudanese government has been committing genocide against the people living in the Nuba Mountains for years.  They indiscriminately bomb the region, trying to clear it of the rebel army. However, they often just kill and maim the local civilian population who has nothing to do with the fight. They also destroy homes and churches in the attacks. The people living in the Nuba Mountains are primarily traditional believers or Christians. This also contributes to the attacks, as Bashir, the countries president, believes that the country is only for Muslims ever since South Sudan gained its independence.

Sudan is considered the sixth worst nation in the world to be Christian in.

Germany: Four separate churches were vandalized and/or torched in March. “In this country,” the report explained, “there is a creeping war against everything that symbolizes Christianity….  Crosses are broken, altars smashed, Bibles set on fire, baptismal fonts overturned, and the church doors smeared with Islamic expressions like ‘Allahu Akbar.’”  In the Alps and Bavaria alone, around 200 churches were attacked and many crosses broken: “Police are currently dealing with church desecrations again and again. The perpetrators are often youthful rioters with a migration background.”

France: On Sunday, March 17, arsonists torched the Church of St. Sulpice in Paris soon after midday mass.   Such incidences have become endemic in France, where two churches are desecrated every day on average.   In the previous month, February, vandals plundered and used human excrement to draw a cross on the Notre-Dame des Enfants Church in Nimes and desecrated and smashed crosses and statues at Saint-Alain Cathedral in Lavaur .  In 2018 alone, 1,063 attacks on Christian churches or symbols (crucifixes, icons, statues) were registered in France. 

Algeria: Throughout March, Algerians protested against a fifth term for President Bouteflika.  In an attempt to exploit the unrest, al-Qaeda publicized new content calling for Sharia governance in the North African nation and referred to those protesting against Bouteflika as the “sons of Islam,” while presenting Bouteflika as “loyal to the Jews and Christians.” According to the report, “Terrorist groups have a long history of attempting to take advantage of political unrest to capitalize upon and increase hardline Islamic sentiment. Christians are often used in their propaganda as part of their efforts.”  In reality, however, “Algerian Christians have faced heavy persecution at the hands of the government.”

In fact, on March 3, the French Parliament “officially opened an inquiry into the persecution of Christians in Algeria,” notes a separate report:

The inquiry specifically points to Algeria’s closure of churches and legal proceedings held against Christian leaders, including those who imported Christian books.  Algeria uses building safety committees to shutter churches indefinitely. The authorities also create substantial obstacles for the opening of new churches, making it impossible and leaving Christians to worship in buildings intended for other uses. Algeria has cracked down against churches since 2017, increasingly forcing Christians out of the public sphere.  The authorities have not only closed churches, but have also targeted Christian leaders. Algeria’s constitution provides for the freedom of worship but declares Islam to be the state religion. Insulting or offending Islam is considered a criminal offense. In addition to imprisonment, convicted Christians can also face hefty fines if convicted of blasphemy.

Kazakhstan: Police raided two unregistered churches on two consecutive Sundays.  Several members were fined; one had to pay the rough equivalent of two months wages.  Discussing these developments, a separate report says,

Since 2011, when the government introduced a new religion law, Christians have faced heightened restrictions on meetings and ‘missionary activity.’ To obtain registration, churches are required to provide the names and addresses of at least 50 members, an impossibility for smaller congregations.  Kazakhstan is officially a secular state; around 70% of the population are Muslim, with Christians comprising about 26%. Many Christians are from a Russian background and some are ethnic Kazakhs who have converted from Islam. Protestant Christians, and especially those from a Muslim background, are viewed with great distrust.

Attacks on Apostates, Blasphemers, and Preachers

Netherlands: As evidence that “Christian refugees in the country are being threatened or bullied on a regular basis, especially when they used to be Muslim,” a March 14 report recounted the experiences of three such Christian refugees. 

“Directly after my conversion to Christianity” in 1999, after reaching the Netherlands, Faradoun Fouad from Iraq “received the first threats. People who I thought were my friends, became my enemies…. Even Muslims who are not very conservative told my wife that they would kill me….  I’m still getting threats every single day.”

“After my conversion” to Christianity, “the threats started,” said Esther Mulder, whose Muslim family fled Somalia.  “Most of the time they’re coming from other Somalis.  They write to me in Somali, so no one else is able to understand what they’re saying. We once posted [on Facebook] a picture of a Somali conference where everyone was standing in front of a cross. People didn’t like it and we received several threats. I was really sorry about that.”  When she visits her family, “my father leaves the house.  The last thing he ever said to me, is that I’m no longer his daughter.”

“In 2015 I became a Christian,” said Jassim, from Morocco. “My mother taught me to respect everyone and to be kind. That was in stark contrast to what Islam was teaching me. I had to hate and curse Jews and Christians. Muhammed was my big role model, but his life was bad. He killed Jews and married a girl of six. How could he be my role model?”  Due to the large volume of threats he was getting, “I went to the police with eight pages full of threats….  The police advised me to delete my picture from my website….  It’s strange isn’t it: I’m not doing anything wrong, why would I need to hide? I live in a free country.”

Afghanistan: A former Islamic child soldier who converted to Christianity—despite “threats to his life”—shared his experiences.  Jahan, 24, said he was taught to kill people who were Christian because they were “infidels and no good.”  However, Jahan eventually began “reading the Bible for himself,” an experience he described as “eye opening.”   He discovered that “what he had been taught about Christians and Christianity was wrong”  and eventually converted—only “to flee from his family who threatened to kill him when they heard about his new faith.”  According to the report, “Persecution in Afghanistan is extreme for the country’s tiny Christian community. Most Afghani Christians are converts from Islam and face very real and very deadly threats because of their conversion. In some cases, Christian converts are attacked by their own family who are ashamed that one of their own has become a Christian.”  Afghanistan is considered the second worst persecutor of Christians in the world.

Kenya: Muslims beat a Christian pastor of an underground church with wooden clubs on Friday, March 6; among other injuries, he suffered a broken thigh bone.  According to the report, “Pastor Abdul (surname withheld for security reasons), a 30-year-old father of three, had finished leading a prayer gathering at 9 p.m. on the outskirts of Garissa and was on his way back to his house when several ethnic Somali Muslims attacked.”  As the Muslims approached, one of them said,  “We have been following your movements and your evil plans of changing Muslims to Christianity.”  “Immediately,” continues Pastor Abdul, “several assailants began hitting me with wooden clubs, and I became unconscious.  I woke up and found myself surrounded by neighbors. I was rescued by the neighbors who found me in a pool of blood.”  They rushed him to a hospital:  “Apart from the thigh pain, I now feel pain all over my body, especially the waist, the back and my left leg near the ankle.  I’m almost unable to bear the pain. My family is in great fear, and Christians have located us to another place. Our prayer for now is to get a safe place for my family. My life and that of my family,” a wife and three children, 8, 5, and 3, “is at stake.” 

Pakistan: A mentally ill Christian man was apprehended for blasphemy. Stephen Masih was arrested after Muhammad Rafiq and Muhammad Imran told Muhammad Mudassar—a renowned hafiz, one who has memorized the entire Koran—that the Christian “had made derogatory remarks against the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH),” says the report.  Stephen, 38, is unmarried and lives with his mother and sister.  After contracting typhoid fever as a child, and receiving little medical attention due to his family’s impoverishment, the family noticed changes in his behavior; he was eventually taken to a “doctor [who] declared him mentally disabled.”  On March 10, Stephen got into a loud quarrel with his mother and sister.   Female Muslim neighbors soon got involved and before long “a few Muslim men … pulled Stephen out of his house and started beating him brutally, gradually joined by others.”  Police eventually arrived and arrested the mentally unstable Christian on the testimony of the local cleric.  Afterwards, his sister Alia “went to the police station. She says her brother only shouted and used abusive language against the local ladies but did not utter any derogatory remarks against the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), but the police didn’t believe her.”  If convicted, Stephen could face the death penalty.  According to Section 295-C of Pakistan’s penal code, “Whoever by words, either spoken or written or by visible representation, or by any imputation, innuendo, or insinuation, directly or indirectly, defiles the sacred name of the Holy Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) shall be punished with death, or imprisonment for life, and shall also be liable to fine.”

General Abuse and Rape of Christians

Pakistan: A Muslim man abducted, tortured and forced a married Christian mother of three to convert to Islam and marry him.  When her original husband, Naveed Iqbal, reported the matter to police, the only action they took was “to alert the suspect, Muhammad Khalid Satti, that he [Naveed, the Christian husband] had filed a report against him for abducting his wife, Saima,” says the report.  Then, “[o]n March 5, police informed me, said Naveed, that Saima had been found … but that she had converted to Islam and married Satti,” and that “a local Muslim cleric had solemnized” their marriage. Local police further counseled him “to forget about his wife and stop pursuing the case,” even though they had been married and raising children for 15 years. “Satti is a hardened criminal, and this is not the first time he has targeted Christians,” the 40-year-old Catholic husband elaborated. “Some 300-400 Christian families live in the area, and almost everyone has been bullied or tortured by Satti and his accomplices over the years.”  It was only after Naveed threatened to set himself on fire before senior officers, that police arrested Muhammad.  However, before the hearing, “the accused and the IO [Information Officer] both threatened Saima to say that she had converted to Islam and married Satti of her free will, otherwise her family would suffer severe consequences. Fearing for our lives, Saima said what she had been forced to say, resulting in grant of bail to Satti.”   The wife later told her husband how she was kidnapped, raped, tortured and then forced to sign a marriage certificate.  “She also showed me the torture marks on her body, and how she had been coerced into submitting to the demands of her tormentor.”   Naveed decided to do all he could to get her justice, including uploading a widely watched video of his wife tearfully explaining her ordeal and appealing to Prime Minister Imran Khan for justice.  “The video was a desperate attempt to get the attention of senior government officials, because the police were openly siding with the accused.”  It worked, and Muhammad was arrested again.  Although reunited with her husband and three children, aged 4, 8 and 13, Naveed said his wife is suffering from post-traumatic stress: “She is not the same person now, but I have faith that the Lord will heal her spirit with time.”

In a separate but similar incident, three Muslim men kidnapped a 13-year-old Christian girl, forced her to convert to Islam and marry one of her abductors.   When the girl’s distraught family finally discovered her whereabouts, her new Muslim family insisted that she had willingly become Muslim and produced a forged marriage certificate falsely indicating that she was 18, the legal age of marriage.  

Discussing the regular abuses Christian and other minorities suffer in Pakistan, a separate March 28 report says,

Across Pakistan, women and girls from religious minority communities are targeted by extremists for abduction and forced conversion. According to the Movement for Solidarity and Peace Pakistan, an estimated 1,000 girls and women, ranging in age between 12 and 25, are victimized by their cruel practice every year. Pakistan’s Hindu and Christian communities are most effected….  Forced conversions to Islam remains one of the cruelest abuses suffered by Pakistan’s minority communities. Practitioners of this abuse often use rape and forced marriage as a means to cover up their crime. To compound the matter, the majority of victims claim that Pakistan’s police force is often unhelpful and regularly sides with the kidnappers because of their shared religious identity.

Egypt:  On Sunday, March 17, the ruling court in Minya surprised the Coptic Christian community by recusing itself and stepped down from two ongoing cases concerning the victimization and killing of Christians.  Due to this unexpected move, both cases—which had already been at court three and six years—must now be retried anew, a process that will likely take several more years before any hope of justice is met. 

The first case concerns Soa‘d Thabet, a 70-year-old Coptic Christian grandmother. On May 20, 2016, a mob of 300 Muslim men descended on her home, stripped her completely naked, beat, spit on, and paraded her in the streets to jeers, whistles, and triumphant shouts of “Allahu Akbar.”  They were angry because her son was allegedly involved with a Muslim woman.

The second case goes back to July 2013, when General Sisi ousted then President Morsi of the Muslim Brotherhood, following massive popular demonstrations against Morsi.  Then, Brotherhood sympathizers all around Egypt rioted, mostly by targeting Coptic Christian people, homes, and especially churches, of which almost one hundred were set ablaze or destroyed.  During these rampages, rioters randomly killed an elderly Coptic man, Iskander (Alexander) and dragged his body on the ground to jeers and more cries of “Allahu Akbar” (graphic video here).  His corpse was then hurled into a garbage bin.  For three days, his children were prevented from retrieving it for burial.  An unknown person eventually buried Alexander in an unmarked grave.   His relentless murderers found the grave, exhumed the mangled body, propped it up, and used it for target practice. 

In both the case of the stripped Christian woman and the case of the slaughtered Christian man, the names and faces of the culprits and murderers are well known.  Commenting on the recusal, Adel Guindy, of Coptic Solidarity told Gatestone, “The judiciary system in Egypt, as well as the rest of the pillars of the state (often referred to as the ‘deep state’) have become impregnated with fundamentalist Islamic ideology, and are thus decidedly biased against Copts. The political leadership of the country takes no concrete corrective measures and, worse still, lets this ideology shape and dominate the society, through education and media.”

United Kingdom: In two unrelated cases, the United Kingdom denied asylum to persecuted Christians by bizarrely citing the Bible and Islam.  Both Christians, a man and a woman, are former Muslims who were separately seeking asylum from the Islamic Republic of Iran, the ninth worst persecutor of Christians, particularly those who were formerly Muslims, as in these two cases. 

In his rejection letter from the UK’s Home Office, the Iranian man was told that biblical passages were “inconsistent” with his claim to have converted to Christianity after discovering it was a “peaceful” faith.  The letter cited several biblical excerpts, including from Exodus, Leviticus, and Matthew, as supposed proof that the Bible is violent; it said Revelation was “filled with imagery of revenge, destruction, death and violence.”  The rejection letter then concluded: “These examples are inconsistent with your claim that you converted to Christianity after discovering it is a ‘peaceful’ religion, as opposed to Islam which contains violence, rage and revenge.” 

In the second case, an Iranian female asylum seeker was sarcastically informed in her rejection letter that “You affirmed in your AIR [Asylum Interview Record] that Jesus is your saviour, but then claimed that He would not be able to save you from the Iranian regime. It is therefore considered that you have no conviction in your faith and your belief in Jesus is half-hearted.”  Discussing her experiences, the rejected woman said: “When I was in Iran I converted to Christianity and the situation changed and the government were [sic] looking for me and I had to flee from Iran….  In my country if someone converts to Christianity their punishment is death or execution.”  Concerning the asylum process, she said that whenever she responded to her Home Office interviewer, “he was either chuckling or maybe just kind of mocking when he was talking to me….  [H]e asked me why Jesus didn’t help you from the Iranian regime or Iranian authorities.”

These two recently exposed cases appear to be symptomatic of the Home Office’s bias against Christians (as more fully documented here).

Raymond Ibrahim, author of the new book, Sword and Scimitar, Fourteen Centuries of War between Islam and the West, is a Distinguished Senior Fellow at the Gatestone Institute and a Judith Rosen Friedman Fellow at the Middle East Forum.

About this Series

The persecution of Christians in the Islamic world has become endemic.  Accordingly, “Muslim Persecution of Christians” was developed to collate some—by no means all—of the instances of persecution that surface each month.

[pyropsychiccollector]

            It hadn’t been a short and easy battle. Irene Belserion was the strongest woman in Alvarez – and a dragon on top of that. Erza had done the brunt of the fighting, even in her weakened state, but her attacks had only been effective because Wendy had entered the fray to assist her with support Enchantments. On top of that, it took Sting stepping up when Erza got to be on her last legs, and when Wendy was endangered.

            Two Dragon Slayers and Fairy Tail’s strongest woman. And they still nearly lost that battle. If it hadn’t been for Gildarts’s timely arrival, they would’ve been crushed by a meteor that Irene summoned… The battle would’ve continued, too, if it wasn’t for August’s interference when the battle was winding down.

             “That’s quite enough, Irene. Stand down.” August ordered as he stood between Irene and her enemies. Despite being in her battered state, Irene glared at the Magic King ferociously.

            “August…!” The redhead snarled before clutching at her side painfully. She was bleeding profusely, the blood caked her gloved hand as she held her side and breathed laboriously.

            August merely shook his head.

            “The war amongst the humans is over, Irene. Despite the odds stacked against them, Ishgar has earned the right to live. It is not our place to cause them any more grief.”

            Irene clenched her bloodstained hand as it remained at her side; the glare she was sending August intensified by a lot.

            “It’s not over…” Irene hissed, taking one shaky step forward. “… until every last soldier on one side is dead…! We still outnumber these fools, and you alone could crush every last one of them like ants! Why do you hesitate in avenging His Majesty’s death?!”

            August didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he looked the redheaded Dragon Slayer dead in the eyes.

            “Because His Majesty desired death. Or did you forget that was one of his goals?” August gave Irene’s opponents a side glance. “Whether you admit it or not, we will need to ally with Ishgar to exterminate Acnologia. Neither you nor I have the power to kill him, and should I allow this fight to play out to the bitter end, we may very well lose potential resources because you are too proud to admit that you have lost. Humans stand no chance against a dragon… And Dragon Slayers have only marginally better chances; even God Serena was struck down in a single blow.”

            Irene quivered in rage.

            “With the Fairy Heart, I can fight Acnologia by myself…! We don’t need their help to win Ragnarok!”

            August closed his eyes and breathed out his nose exasperatedly.

            “If you continue to act so foolishly, I will let them execute you. With the blood you have spilled, you know they will not restrain themselves; they will kill you.” He looked to Erza and Wendy especially, both looking grieved and angered over Mira’s loss. He turned back to Irene with a stony expression. “This is your only warning. As Commander of the Spriggan 12, I am formally surrendering to Fairy Tail. If you make another move against them, it will be treated as an act of rebellion, and you will be ousted and branded as a traitor.”

            None of Irene’s rage subsided. She looked every bit as murderous as she did during the whole fight. Nevertheless, she did not attempt to call August’s bluff. With her body still tense, though, she did press for more information.

            “… And so? What is your noble plan for ‘cooperation’? The Spriggan 12 has been whittled down to just me and you. Fairy Tail has exhausted themselves to even reach this point. I can’t hold up Universe One forever, so Acnologia will most certainly be arriving very soon. If Acnologia could kill God Serena with a single blow, what chance do these far less experienced Dragon Slayers have? They are but children, taught by the husks of dragons that Acnologia slaughtered long ago. They have no chance against that malevolent force of nature.”

            “Not on their own, no.” August calmly conceded that point. “As of now, our only hope lies with them, because they are Dragon Slayers. You are correct that Fairy Heart would possess the power that we need to overcome Acnologia… But you are shortsighted in regards to who should be given that power.”

            Irene’s eyes narrowed into slits as she processed August’s words.

            “You truly are hedging your bets on them…” Irene muttered in displeasure.

            “You are no longer in a state where it would be safe to absorb the complete Fairy Heart.” August intoned. “We were fairly confident that His Majesty could handle the strain of that power, as he was immortal. But you are on your last legs, and are struggling to maintain Universe One as it stands.”

            “You planned this.” Irene accused with such certainty. August shook his head at her evident frustration and bitterness. Her misguided frustration and bitterness.

            “I had not planned for Invel to usurp control of the Twelve from me. You and Invel both brought this upon yourselves.” Seeing a waspish objection on the tip of her tongue, August cut her off. “I did stand aside to let you and Fairy Tail battle it out… Though it was more of a test for them. To see if they had the strength to stand beside us as allies.”

            Irene stewed in her spiteful bitterness, but did not challenge that assertion. Instead, deciding to challenge the plan itself.

            “… What makes you think they would stand the strain better than I could?”

            The answer surprised Irene, as well as the Fairy Tail Wizards and Dragon Slayers within earshot.

            “Because you are going to bestow portions of Fairy Heart onto each of the Dragon Slayers – not the whole of it on one individual.”

            ~*~

            The war had ended on that day, within a matter of a couple of hours. It was an uphill battle… and they nearly didn’t make it. There were more casualties, and Acnologia didn’t hold back in the slightest. He fought to exterminate dragons and humankind together, but in the end, he did fall. He fell to six Dragon Slayers that were far younger, far more inexperienced than him; and he was foiled by a woman that he had never known was a dragon until her final moments, when he slaughtered her in order to remove the “bigger” threats.

            Acnologia spread himself too thin, attempting to kill everyone that fell within his field of vision. He was destruction incarnate, a “grim reaper” far more terrifying than Bloodman had been, when he was brought back as a Historia. He left such a broad swathe of carnage in his wake, there were contingents of Fairy Tail Wizards and Alvarez soldiers set aside for evacuating Magnolia’s citizens while the battle raged on. Brandish, as exhausted as she was, minimized the death toll as much as she could, but it was a bloodbath regardless.

            Jellal… Jellal had been one of the casualties. He was the only member of Crime Sorciere to have perished in the final battle, but he had done so to buy some Fairy Tail members, as well as Kagura Mikazuchi, enough time to evacuate some civilians. His act of kindness was met with a claw piercing through his chest, heart and all. Though Kagura still never forgave the man for murdering her brother all those years ago, she did thank the man in death for his noble sacrifice.

            A mere day after that battle had ended, Fairy Tail took the time to mourn and bury their dead before they set about repairing all the damage to Magnolia. Natsu… Mira… Master Makarov… Macao… Wakaba… Droy… Warrod Sequen, as well as the other Gods of Ishgar… They lost so much in this war. They thought the war with Tartaros had been the worst that they would ever go through, but they were so, so wrong…

            “I can’t believe I lost my other sister…” Elfman’s voice cracked as he, Lisanna, Cana, and a few others stood huddled in front of the new graves in Kardia Cathedral’s cemetery. Natsu’s grave was right next to Mira’s, so it wasn’t uncommon to see such a large crowd paying their respects as the day went on. Both Natsu and Mira easily made up a large part of the backbone of the guild; it really hurt Erza to inscribe the names on those graves, but she wouldn’t have anyone else do it. That burden was hers alone. Laxus took responsibility for his Grandfather’s grave, after all…

            “I can’t believe she’s gone, either, Elf…” Lisanna’s eyes drooped mournfully as she rubbed his back consolingly. Now she knew exactly how Mira and Elfman felt, when they thought she died all those years ago.

            Cana rubbed her arm gingerly as she stared down at the grave, glancing at Natsu’s out of the corner of her eye.

            “It sucks… Out of everyone that could have died, why did it have to be them?” Cana didn’t even resist when Gildarts appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug. She was too drained from crying, and for being there for Lucy, who cried enough for everyone.

            “It’s going to be a very different Fairy Tail, that’s for sure…” Laxus murmured from his place over by the Thunder Legion, which was close by Makarov’s grave. The Dragon Slayer had stepped aside so that others could pay their respects to his Gramps.

            “We’re going to need a new Master…” Freed breathed a heavy sigh. He looked to Laxus with a weary smile. “Laxus, perhaps you could…?”

            But the blond shook his head slowly.

            “No way I’m cut out for it. Even if you don’t count the stunt I pulled at the Fantasia Parade, I still wasn’t able to do anything to stop that knucklehead from running off and getting himself killed… And ironically, Mira ended up doing pretty much the same thing.” Laxus gave a long, tired sigh as he looked down at the ground, a hand gripping his elbow in frustration as he crossed his arms. “I hear Erza turned down the role, too… Though I can’t say I blame her.”

            Evergreen reeled back in shock.

            “Titania refused, too?!”

            Bickslow rubbed the back of his head as he grunted sourly.

            “I think you guys are bein’ too hard on yourselves! I mean, if any of the rest of us does it, we’ll be makin’ way worse mistakes!”

            Laxus gave a subdued smirk at that.

            “It’s not about being ‘qualified’… I mean hell, it’s not like I expect Happy to step up or something.” Laxus rolled his eyes at the absurd thought. “Besides, it’s not like me and Erza are retiring! I’ll always be happy to lend the new leader a hand in getting everyone to settle down, and I’m sure Erza will, too. Erza and I… we just won’t have the heart to keep it up for long. As selfless as we are, we’re not impervious to pain; we’re going to need time to grieve and make peace with ourselves. And considering what we lost this time… that may take a while. Especially for Erza.”

            The Thunder Legion grew pensive as Laxus brought up that point. It’s not like they didn’t know Erza had lost a great deal… they had all lost the same precious people, after all. To them, however, Erza had always been this unbreakable, indomitable knight that stood at the helm when everyone else needed time to recover. Recognizing that this would be one of those rare times when she just wouldn’t be able to bounce back and take charge… it was an eye-opener for them.

            Laxus carried on as they ruminated on that.

            “I can also probably guess that Gildarts isn’t going to accept, either… He’s gonna put up a front as best as he can, but he’s shaken just as much as me and Erza are. Natsu was like a son to him, and he always had a soft spot for Mira. Not to mention how close he was with Gramps… I wouldn’t be surprised if he hit the road tomorrow on another journey. He’s always been a free spirit, but this time it might be his way to cope as well.”

            That gave them even more food for thought… And it really begged the question, who was the next Guildmaster going to be? It was looking to be pretty slim pickings, at this point…

            ~*~

            Toward the back of the throng of mourners, Gajeel leaned against the wall of Kardia Cathedral as he stared at his fellow Dragon Slayer curiously.

            “You’re stickin’ around?” The iron eater asked, his voice betraying slight shock.

            Erik leaned against the gate to the cemetery, head tilted back as his lips twitched between a smirk and a grimace, eyes closed.

            “Not just me. I think Rich and Meredy are going to, as well… Macbeth is thinkin’ about it. Sawyer definitely wants to keep traveling, so he’ll be out of here by the end of today. Sorano’s gonna go join Sabertooth, where her sister is.” He cracked open his good eye and stared at Gajeel shrewdly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We’re not indebted to you guys. You wouldn’t have won the war without us, so any debts went out the window ‘cause you had our backs, too. Still, can’t deny you guys lost a lot of powerful members, but that’s war for ya. Even if you were pulled in unwillingly, you should’ve been prepared for losses.”

            Gajeel grunted and stared out at the throng of people, packed into the cemetery. Based on the weather, it looked like it was going to rain soon. He wondered if it was brought on by Juvia, wherever she was in that crowd, or if it was just an uncanny coincidence that it was going to rain on such a day.

            “I get it’s not a debt thing… You guys are too proud for that crap. But still, why stick around? Figured you’d all be like Sawyer, wantin’ to keep your freedom.”

            Erik looked back up at the clouds blanketing the sky. It was faint, but he could hear thunder off in the distance. After a long moment, he summed up his thoughts.

            “Rich knows his brother will be stopping by sometimes, and he figures it’s a good a guild as any to join; he thinks Wally might warm up to the idea of joining up, too, since Erza’s here. Meredy’s buddy-buddy with that rain chick of yours.” He paused in his musings as he rubbed his chin. He stared at a head of purple toward the back of the crowd, but he did so in a way that Gajeel wouldn’t be able to catch it. “… And you don’t need to worry about me. I have my reasons.”

            “Huh. Didn’t know the Rain Woman had a friend in Crime Sorciere… I musta forgot all about that.” The Iron Dragon Slayer mirrored Erik in rubbing his chin, but turned his gaze and face downward. Eventually, he couldn’t help heaving a tired sigh. “It’s gonna be so damn different around here…Why’d that spitfire hafta go and be an idiot like that? Wouldn’t be nearly as bad if I could punch his face in for offing the Black Wizard… The most I did was help take down Acnologia. That Pyro took down Zeref all on his own.”

            Erik rolled his eye at the obvious aggravation. Misplaced though it seemed, Erik could tell that Gajeel was grieving in his own way right now. Gajeel was one of the ‘tough guys’ – he wasn’t “supposed” to show his more tender side so easily, much less to a former enemy. Erik respectfully didn’t call him out on the act, though he could have.

            “He was definitely a stubborn, scrappy bastard…” Erik cracked a small grin as a small memory came to mind. “He could be funny when he wanted to, though. Probably the only enemy I ever faced that got me to crack up, mid-battle at that… Might not have known him well, but it’ll be a shame not seein’ his dumbass get fried for the crap he pulls.”

            Gajeel cracked up a little as he returned the grin.

            “He was definitely a dumbass. … But he was our dumbass, I guess…”

            At that moment, a drizzle started to fall down from the sky. The grins dropped, and Gajeel turned his head away; but Erik didn’t miss the tears that were mixed in with the rain. Considering that Salamander was the one to kick his ass back when Phantom Lord was making war with Fairy Tail, Erik wasn’t all that surprised at the Iron Dragon Slayer getting emotional over the Pyro’s death. Makarov’s, too. They were both pretty instrumental in how Gajeel ended up in Fairy Tail – at least, that’s how Erik perceived the grief rolling off of Gajeel in waves.

            No wonder he was toward the back like this, avoiding everyone. Gajeel was a wreck. And it didn’t look like that was going to get fixed anytime soon…

            ~*~

            A week passed by.

            “It’s really too bad Invel won’t play nice…” Dimaria sighed as she supervised a contingent of Alvarez soldiers. Nearby, Brandish was reducing the size of rubble so that it could be easily disposed of. “He’s better at this organization crap.”

            “I don’t really care…” Brandish grunted. It wasn’t hard to see why she was bitter towards the now former Chief of Staff. He used her as a tool, and she murdered indiscriminately because of it.

            The Ice Mage was very lucky August decided he would be put on trial and punished back home. Extremely lucky.

            “He really was just fighting so that we could win the war, Randi.” Dimaria lightly chided her friend, though it lacked any real heat behind her words.

            “A war that Grandpa decided was over…” Brandish caustically reminded the blonde, knowing Dimaria harbored her own grudge against the Ice Mage, but still needed to vent her frustration. Well-intentioned or no, Invel still controlled Brandish, and that pissed Dimaria off like no other.

            “Randi…” Dimaria sighed again. She wasn’t going to get into it with the mass mage. She didn’t even want to squabble over beliefs and ideals. After His Majesty passed, there was a quick and dirty fight for leadership over their forces; at the time, August had submitted to Invel because Irene backed him up, but now August was the undisputed General of the Spriggan 12 once again.

            Lady Irene was gone now. Invel was screwed, and everyone knew it.

            In another area of Magnolia, Neinhart was being made to work alongside a number of Alvarez soldiers. He didn’t like grunt work. His Historias were so much more proficient for menial labor, and he rather missed the respect and glory that came with being a top-ranking elite.

            … But he’d brought it upon himself, really. Apparently sentimentality outweighed resourcefulness, when people saw loved ones returned and forced to do construction work, amongst other chores.

            He’d been immediately demoted, and forced to dispel the Historias… well, except for one, and that one was taken away to speak privately with Lady Irene’s daughter. Which irked him, because that meant he had to keep channeling Magic to a Historia that was just talking…

            “Oi, you just gonna stand there all day, Neinhart? Get back to work!”

            Said purple-haired man twitched at the taunt. Jacob was up on the rooftop of a two-story building, supervising all of the soldiers. Ajeel was also nearby, filling holes in the ground with sand, as well as making sandbags. Neinhart knew that the real reason they were stationed here was to keep an eye on him… Not that he really cared to try anything. He was not going to end up like Invel. If that meant toughing it out and putting up with his demotion, so be it. He would follow all his orders and climb back up to his elite rank; it’s not like they would be able to deny him it for very long – Alvarez lost half of its elite fighting force and its Emperor, so he would be needed for managing all of their guilds and people back home. He belonged in administration!

            That’s what the proud knight told himself, anyway. Repeated in his mind like a mantra. He had to keep himself from attacking Jacob, somehow.

            Jacob, meanwhile, grinned at the clear displeasure etched on Neinhart’s face as he went back to carrying crates around. He should probably sympathize more with his fellow countryman, but Neinhart was a well-known layabout. The little git had this sort of thing coming.

            … That said, Jacob was also well aware that August could have stripped him of his rank, as well. He hadn’t stood against Invel – none of them had, except for Brandish, who Invel disciplined. Jacob knew that the only thing keeping him from being punished like Invel or demoted like Neinhart was August’s mercy. The man had decided Jacob was loyal enough that he had only been following orders when Invel took temporary control – it wasn’t a personal attempt to defy the Magic King on Jacob’s part.

            And Ajeel was a similar case. True, Ajeel had wanted to destroy Ishgar and Fairy Tail all by himself, but he had since gained perspective on wars. It wasn’t a certain thing yet, but August was at least considering naming Ajeel the next Emperor. He wouldn’t be ready for the role right away, but if August decided to make him the successor to Emperor Spriggan, August would be acting as the surrogate Emperor until Ajeel was fully groomed for the role.

            The biggest change for Alvarez would be the peace treaty they would be enacting with Ishgar. That would ensure no more wars between the two continents, at least not in the near future. But more importantly, trading would increase between the two continents because of Alvarez’s changes in international polices. Though it would be a strange shift, Jacob would respect August’s decision and help ensure the others fell in line, too. If August said not to start anything, Jacob was going to make damn sure the Magic King’s vision was carried out. Alvarez needed stability right now – they were in turbulent enough times as it was.

            They didn’t need a bloody revolution like the kind that Invel seemed to crave.

            ~*~

            Despite everything that had happened, Mavis had survived the extraction of Fairy Heart from her body. The intense magical power had been split amongst the six remaining Dragon Slayers, and had for the most part been used up in the fight against Acnologia. Nevertheless, trace amounts remained in the Dragon Slayers and kept their respective Magics intensified. It really was a miraculous power.

            Still, surviving didn’t mean Mavis was in perfect health. She was actually quite drained, and felt more mortal than she had in decades. She was also emotionally impacted by the deaths of Warrod, Makarov, Natsu, and Mira; she’d cried and wailed mournfully for days. All in all, it just left her feeling tired. So very tired.

            … Which was probably why she had agreed so easily to meet with August in private, a week after the war ended. If he tried anything, at least she’d be reunited with her precious loved ones.

            … And with Zeref, who she still felt the need to resolve matters with.

            “You’re my… what?!” Mavis’s voice rose as she stared at the Magic King in shock. August stared back at her seriously, making clear this was no joke.

            “Many decades ago, when Precht was trying to study your condition and save you, he discovered you had another life growing inside of you. He safely delivered the baby from your womb when it came time for him to be born, yet Precht was troubled by how much magic power that babe possessed. Precht abandoned him, sending him down a river… No one took that baby in, so the child eventually wandered. And as fate would have it, the child eventually found his father, who took him to a faraway land and taught him how to control that immense magic power…”

            A wealth of emotions passed through August’s eyes as he regaled Mavis with his story. And Mavis, too, was caught up in the maelstrom of emotions that came with the implications of the story.

            “That child never experienced love from his parents. Both father and mother were unaware they had a child; and so that child grew up, watching countless families lead happy lives, but never knowing that form of love from either of his parents… never understanding what familial bonds were, and why they were so powerful.” August shook his head remorsefully. “… But even so. Even if it was just one time, the child at least wanted to meet his mother. To experience that love for himself. That part may be an impossible dream now, after all that has happened… But I still at least wanted to tell you while I had the chance to… mother.”

            And as if that broke the trance Mavis was in, fresh tears sprang anew, and she barely held herself back from running right up to her son and embracing him. The only thing holding her back…

            “I… I want to hug you so bad…!” Mavis sobbed, using the back of her hand to wipe at the tears in one eye. “But I’m cursed by Anksheram, too…! I kill people just by caring about them!”

            Mavis shook her head mournfully, doing her best to stop crying in front of August. She stiffened when she found herself swept up in a comforting embrace, anyway. She looked up at August with glistening, shell-shocked eyes.

            And despite the potential danger he was in… August smiled softly.

            “Not even death will stop me at this point… Because I do not know if I will ever see you again, and I will not let this chance slip by.” Slowly but surely, the conviction in August’s voice calmed Mavis down. “I have caused you much grief, helping fulfill father’s ambitions while he was alive. But now that he rests in peace… now that I have a choice… I wish to do everything I can to repair all the damage that has been done. Perhaps together, Fairy Tail and Alvarez can build a new future together. It is an ideal to work toward, but not one without merit.”

            Slowly, Mavis closed her eyes, squeezing them shut nervously as she returned August’s embrace.

            … Nothing happened. No fatal outburst of Magic. They stayed locked in that tentative yet firm embrace, each of them silently promising to not let the other go.

            Mavis didn’t think she had the heart to just let her son return to Alvarez, alone. And after everything she lost… she didn’t have the selflessness within her to stay here in Ishgar, working to rebuild Fairy Tail.

            It was her guild. The one she founded with Yuri, Warrod, and Precht. But even so, it was a resilient guild; one that didn’t need her to stand upright. And in a way… she wasn’t defecting or abandoning them; by going to Alvarez with August, she could help stabilize the peace between Alvarez and Ishgar. Fairy Tail wouldn’t have to worry about history repeating itself.

            And she could… have a family. Fairy Tail was her family, too, but August was her flesh and blood that she never knew she had. Mavis felt like she needed this, that she deserved this much at least!

            Mavis was going to miss seeing the daily life of her rowdy guild… But she knew they were going to be just fine.

            ~*~

            Natsu couldn’t help sighing with exaggerated exasperation after Erza had dragged him off from the work Neinhart had him doing. He had already said everything he needed to say to the scarlet knight, back when they defeated Neinhart… so why drag him off now? Was she really so clingy? He told her she’d have to live without him! He knew Erza had that strength, so why was she clinging onto him?

            … It was only when she reunited him with Happy and all their friends that he understood her intent. It wasn’t for herself… Erza already had her last moment with him, but everyone else hadn’t. And they’d all wanted to say goodbye to him, this time. Even people like Laxus, Gajeel, and Erik – they all wanted to see him off. Lucy and Wendy cried. Gray vented at him for being a suicidal moron, but eventually caved and cried as well… Happy and Erza were the only ones who could muster up smiles when he’d muttered his final goodbyes.

            “Y’know? As long as someone lives on in your memories, they’re never truly gone?” Natsu told Erza with a disarming grin, feeling himself begin to fade as Neinhart cut off the Magic circulating to his Historia. “I had to learn that when Igneel died. And I know you’ll learn that, too, Erza. Take care of everyone.”

            Erza took a deep breath as she held back the tears as best as she could.

            “… I will. I suppose I’ll leave Master and Mira to you?”

            Natsu just laughed.

            “Gramps is just glad to finally be retired! And Mira says you better not follow us so soon. She wants ‘alone’ time with me.” He snickered at the scarlet knight’s sour expression. His expression softened as he kept smiling. “I got to see Igneel again. I might not have meant to die, but I don’t have any regrets, Erza – you shouldn’t either. Take care of everyone, but also take care of yourself. I’ll be watchin’.”

            Erza managed to keep herself composed until Natsu fully faded away for good. She’d cried plenty when she first heard about his death, but now only a single tear rolled down her cheek. Because she was going to honor his request. She was going to remain strong and watch over everybody left behind.

            If Natsu embodied the will of Fairy Tail, she was going to carry on that will. They all were.

~*~

Author's Note: I suppose you could call this an epilogue to that "Natsu dies" AU I cooked up. I left a lot of things open for me to write about later, if I wanted to come back to this AU; the battle with Acnologia, how other certain characters are faring after the war ended, the next FT Guildmaster (personally, I'm leaning toward Cana being the next Master in this AU, but I left it open for now), and even Mavis going over to Alvarez. Lots of ideas I could dink around with, but I dunno if I will do that in the near future. Just felt like getting this epilogue out, at least. Hope you enjoyed it a little. :3

[xaz-fr]

I've just accepted the fact that I’m never gonna actually properly finish Astra’s arc but I REALLY wanna get these extra dragons out of my FUCKING LAIR. Also I wanna move time forward like fuck. Arianna needs to grow up AT LEAST so it isn’t weird she and her new bae are boning and having kiddos lols. So long synopsis below. Tw: Mentions of rape..

@deadpool-scar-bro​ @hikayelastoria​ @cornsnoot-fr​ @redlion-fr​@mushroomdraggo @murdoch-fr​ @tales-around-sornieth​ @frxemriss​@rainhearts-hatchery @rexcaliburr-fr​ @starry-ampelope​ @plainstriderbard​@reanimatedfr @voltaic-ambassador​ @sirensage-fr​ @journey-taken-fr​ @ally-fr​ @golden-lionsnake​ @rookfern-fr​ @fr-dew​​ (let me know if you’d like to be added to the lore pinglist)

dragons are humanoid unless said otherwise

Astra has successfully finished poisoning Azazel. He’s super weak and she knows he won’t be able to fight back when she attempts to kill him.

Azazel doesn’t understand why he’s weakening. There have been no spells put on him, no jinxes or hexes. He’s still plotting on how to destroy those two other bastard children of Astra’s. He knows as long as she knows they exist she’ll not become fertile again for a long while because she’s got children out there. So he needs to figure out a way to get past the progenitor (UNLIKELY) and kill them.

Also Azazel isn’t a dragon. He isn’t a Shade either. Or rather he’s Shade adjacent. He’s a natural thing of Sorienth that came about during the explosion that birthed the Arcanist, Gladekeeper, and Plaguebringer. He’s a parasite that infects other host bodies and is effectively undead, not alive or dead himself but not a zombie. He exists in a between living and death, a thing stuck at the cusp of being one thing in perminance. Before the rise of dragons Azazel infected Beastclan members and used them in order to ‘live’. With dragons now the dominant species he’s been finding different dragons to be his host for centuries. This Imperial is his latest host. His host was already a bit mad but Azazel’s cruelty and undying nature and need to survive above all else drove him even deeper mad. Azazel is now seeking to make himself a new host by using his current body and the one of an extremely powerful witch, Astra. Thus he’s been raping her to produce children with her but she’s been so stubborn and hateful she’s been doing whatever she can to ensure he never gets close to their children to perform the ceremony that would allow him into the new host body. Astra having her latest clutch with someone other than him has infuriated him and they’re untouchable. Azazel is old and cruel but values survival above all else. He won’t risk angering a progenitor, who are more powerful than him (and he knows it) because death is likely. He would have since moved on to Killing but Savathun said if he touched her daughter she’d feed him to Abbadon. So while acting predatory to the girl he won’t actually do anything to her unless she’s older and consents but that’ll be a while.

Astra needs to put Azazel in place so she can get to Savathun’s office and find that letter Azazel gave her to read in the event of his death that reveals Astra’s secret Azazel has been blackmailing her with to let him fuck her. If Savathun knows it she’ll throw Astra out or kill Aten OR both. She can’t allow that.

Azazel is getting impatient tho. He tries to force Astra and to kinda both their surprise she is able to fight him off like she couldn’t before. Tail between his legs he goes and takes his aggression and anger out on Slaughter who’s already afraid of him.

The Warren is sort of like… a gate. It connects to the vast underground catacombs beneath the Hewn City. Abbadon was charged by the Plaguebringer to defend it on behalf of the Lightweaver because PB knows her bitch sister is SHIT at keeping anything hidden and safe (Emperors anyone?). So Abbadon was made and put to be the warden of the Warren and protect it so that dragons couldn’t get in and things from the Hewn City couldn’t come out. He was doing a perfect job, with only minor things from the City managing to slip past when he slept, minor shadow or Shade wisps of little consequence other than give you an impending feeling of dread and fear. Then Azazel came and he is EXACTLY the sort of thing Abbadon was made to protect the world from getting from the Hewn City or places like it. To ‘protect’ Azazel from Abbadon Oryx and Savathun threw him out of his own Warren. Now he stalks the island the Warren is located on to catch and kill what now can escape. So far nothing large has realized the gate is unguarded but he knows it is a matter of time.

Slaughter is a thing that showed up during a lapse in Abbadon’s vigil. They are a Hewn City thing, similar to a Eye of the Lightweaver larva. It is harmless for the most part and obeys simple actions. It was given the order to look after little Killing and it does. It comforts her in her loneliness, it makes sure she eats, it brings her to and from places in the Warren, its presence protecting Killing from the minor evils that lurk in the deep tunnels and shadows of the Warren. It is also PETRIFIED of Azazel and will cry and scream when he gets close he touches it or gets close to it. The crying usually summons Astra who will intervene and send Azazel away. Or taking Killing away allowing Slaughter to run. Abbadon sees Slaughter sort of like his niece and since it is a docile, gentle thing despite its name and appearance and when he can tries to protect it from Azazel but isn’t always able to.

After Astra fought him off Azazel goes to take his anger out on Slaughter, know they’re something that won’t fight back. He ends up killing it in his anger. Abbadon feels that and gets PISSED and stalks down into the Warren and confronts Azazel and almost kills him but he holds back because he promised both himself and Aten he’d let Aten end his miserable life for the suffering he’s inflicted on his sister. So he just scared Azazel a good bit and maybe bites him a bit and tells Azazel he won’t do it now but it will be soon. He then goes and tells Astra she needs to do something NOW. He cannot abide to have this disgusting thing in his Warren anymore.

Astra has Abbadon go get Aten because Abbadon is right. Azazel is weak. They can finish him. Aten arrives and is thrilled his sister is like ‘remember you said you’d kill him for me?’ ‘yeah?’ ‘That time is now’ ‘!!! yassss’. So Aten shows up at Azazel’s room and just kinda… CRUSHES him, like in his full dragon form just casually pins Azazel while Astra goes to get the blackmail. Azazel tries to use magic but Aten just kinda eats whatever magic he tries to produce and is SMUG about it.

Astra goes into Savathun’s office while she’s out and starts rifling around for the letter. Knowing Azazel it will be obvious and ‘classy’. Just as she finds it Savathun shows up and asks her what she’s got. After a bit of back and forth it comes to light that not only did Savathun know Azazel was raping her but she allowed and maybe even encouraged it a little because she hoped that Astra would realize she was being punished for her sins. And she had guessed what was in that message because she knew the entire time what Astra’s secret was. She knew and hoped Azazel would convince her otherwise to not be so disgusting and him forcing himself onto her was a suitable punishment.

Furious that her teacher, a woman who treated her like a daughter, who expected to be seen as her mother, would just allow some strange man to repeatedly rape and impregnate her INFURIATES Astra. She attacks Savathun and Savathun thinks nothing of her. She’s a little girl in her eyes. But Astra has been learning far more magic than Savathun has been teaching her. Darker magic. Killing magic. She doesn’t do it easily or quickly but she does end up slaying Savathun. She’s all fucked up from it, like bruised and battered and shit. But the one who allowed her abuse to continue is now dead. Better for it.

She goes to where Aten is basically toying with Azazel. She’s got the blackmail and just goes ‘Savathun knew the entire time. Your blackmail was worthless’ ‘then don’t sound so smug’ ‘I also killed her. Kill him, brother’ ‘my pleasure 83c’ and Aten just kinda… bites him in half.

Because Azazel isn’t a real dragon and is just a parasite inside a host that while the host dies it doesn’t kill the parasite. It leaves Azazel as black smoke (remember Shade adjacent) and tries to take over Aten but Astra stops it. Abbadon has also been watching all of this since he wants to make sure both Azazel and the host are dead. He can kill a thing like Azazel.

But before Abbadon can kill him Astra is like ‘no. I will take him’ ‘as a host?’ ‘of course not. He’s going to be my thing to command’ and she’s a necromancer. An actually REALLY POWERFUL necromancer. She seals Azazel inside a locket to act as a necrotic powersource for her magic.

Now that all of the older Stitchers are dead that leaves the Warren empty again, the way it was when Oryx and Savathun found it. Aten reminds them they need to, somehow, close whatever was opened in the Warren and Abbadon doesn’t like that. His entire life is to protect the opening of the Hew City. Astra did promise Layali she would do so so she will. She makes Abbadon take her to the actual gate where he would normally stand guard. This is the only way in or out of the Hewn City from the Warren. Astra casts a new seal across the entrance, destroying the gate, collapsing the tunnel for a mile beyond, and places a magical seal across the face which would act as the same as if Abbadon was there. Abbadon isn’t sure how he feels about this because now he has no purpose. ‘You have a purpose, Abbadon; I am your contract holder now.’ And Abbadon is kinda >:C about the entire thing but also she got him there.

Astra leaves the Warren with Aten and and Killing and goes to collect her children and report to Layali that Azazel is dead and the Warren’s gate sealed. Savathun is also dead. Layali is pleased to hear that and Ado and Ilia, who have NEVER seen their mother before, are both very excited and nervous about meeting Astra. She’s very happy to see them and holds them and then Aten says that they don’t have to stay here. There’s a place for them.

While he was away for several years Aten was an apprentice to the clan’s carpenter and building builder; Fjord. In that time he learned how to build houses with him. Aten built a big cottage for his sister, himself, her children, and Killing for when they were finally free of the Warren. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s above ground with big windows. It’s the first building he’s ever made by himself and he’s super proud of it. Astra loves it immediately.

Astra instructs Abbadon to now be responsible for the protection of Killing since Slaughter is gone. Protect her, make sure she’s safe. Abbadon isn’t exactly thrilled about this but he’s duty bound now that his original duty is ruined. So he takes to the new duty.

Astra empties out Savathun and Oryx’s library of books. Ones that seem significant her pendant reacts to. The ones of little consequence she gives to the Master to add to his collection. He is THRILLED to have them and casually starts inviting her over for drinks and to talk. Half of his staff are instantly in love with Aten as he goes with her because he knows the reputation the Manor has and doesn’t want anyone making unwanted advances on his sister.

That’s basically the end of Astra’s arc. Finally. Fuck. I can now move onto Layali and Nadalin’s arc and moving the clan to the Wind territory.

[gaelshorne]

Dark Times in Darkshore

The night was dark and quiet as the druid slipped through the undergrowth. She slid past the trees and Horde sentries on silent paws. As she approached a camp she heard a mechanical snap, and her fore paw erupted in pain. All around her Horde troops arose from their hiding places. Surrounded and trapped, she set her posture to fight. An orc female called a halt to the troops’ advancement with a sharp gesture. With another she indicated that a blood elf should approach the druid.

“Hello,” he said in perfect Common. 

“You might want to turn into your normal form after I release you from this trap. Please, there’s been enough death today. Don’t try anything funny,” he said as he knelt down to release her from the trap. 

With a deprecating swear, the blood elf summoned a small ball of light. The mage was a bit tall for his kind, and his hair was a black as the night around them. His eyes glowed gold in the small arcane light. The druid looked around. With a sigh of relief she began to change. The assembled Horde soldiers were known to her. The curved blades on their tabards marked them as allies. The druid stood up straight revealing the battered shield on her tabard. Her purple hair fell in a cascade down her back and her green armor was form fitting. Almost as one, the Horde troops sucked in a breath. The druid noted that one orc seemed unconcerned with her tabard. 

“Well, this is awkward, but good,” the blood elf said. “I am Mylarash. I am a Mage of the Crescent Blade Clan. Please, come with us. Oh, it looks like our Commander is taking care of an issue...”

The druid looked to where the orc female had been only to see her point her rifle in the face of the unconcerned orc. Their whispered conversation ended with the orc male backing down. 

“Sorry you had to see that. There are those that don’t want to take prisoners. He’s one, and he’s our watcher. So, be good. We have a plan to get you home,” Mylarash said under his breath.

Dawn broke over Teldrassil and Rutheran Village. A dwarf stood at a table looking over maps of the region. His red beard quivered in thought, and his hand unconsciously tried to smooth his mustache. A night elf, tall and regal in her blue armor, walked up and saluted the dwarf. 

“Aleeren hasn’t reported in, Major,” she said with a stiff voice.

“Alrigh’, Lass. Thank ye,” the dwarf said.

“Are we going to do anything, Thrannar,” the elf asked.

“Aye, Myrre, we will. I need tae plan this attack first. We’ll snap ‘er up on th’ way home.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“Aye, I know the general area. It’ll be near where we’re attacking. We’ll have Vahnian an’ a few others ‘ead over an’ free ‘er. Get everyone ready. We’ll attack tonight.”

Myrre saluted and turned to leave.

“Myrre, me heart bleeds fer ye, but I need ye an’ th’ rest tae remain calm as ye can.”

Myrre looked at Thrannar hard and nodded curtly.

Thrannar shook his head, sighed, and returned to his maps.

The cell was made of wood, the most readily available material in Darkshore. It was stoutly bound with vines, and not too uncomfortable. Aleeren sat waiting. She didn’t pace, that would waste energy. Energy she’d need to escape. The blood elf headed over to her cage with a steaming tray of food. From where she sat, she could smell the meat and bread. Mylarash maneuvered the tray through the bars and said,”What can you give me?”

Aleeren looked long and hard at the blood elf.

“No torture?”

“Nope. That would break our agreement, but I DO need something to keep you alive. Something that we can’t know or haven’t figured out yet.”

Aleeren ate as she thought. 

“The orc from last night is calling for your head. I want to prevent that. I need something that can save you. Yes, dying honorably and nobly is a great thing, but living is better. If you die here, who will help save the planet, Druid?”

“If I tell you what I know, what will happen?”

“Depending on the information, we as a Clan will act on it. We will take responsibility for the success or failure of the mission. It’s a win/win for you. And as a note, the only reason you yet live is because of our High Elder and your Major. Had they not struck that agreement, your life would be forfeit.”

“There’s going to be an attack soon. The Major is bringing the Steel through an underused pass to attack the flank,” she said pushing her food away in disgust.

“Thank you. I’ll take this information to my High Elder,” Mylarash said with a relieved sigh.

A weary troll woman sat with maps, orders, and a half eaten meal on a table in front of her. She propped her red haired head up on one strong hand. Mylarash entered her tent and quickly closed the flap.

“High Elder Galladra...”

“Cut wit’ da ceremony, Myl. I be tired.”

“Aye, we got  something. The Steel will be moving into the area. If we’re there to...”

Galladra sat up. 

“Dey be attackin’? What? Dey was supposed ta be support only!”

“I know. But if we’re...”

“I get it we gotta stop dem. An’ it HAS ta be us,” Galladra said with a negligent wave of her hand. 

“When dey be attackin’, Boy?”

“Tonight, or close to tonight.”

“Good. I gat time for a little sleep den. Go tell Skara, Ooghra, Karlp, an’ Jika ta get EVERYONE ready. We gonna make dis a good show,” she said with a trollish cackle.

“At once, High Elder,” Mylarash said with a bow and hurried out.

The dusk had been a gorgeous one. All purples and oranges. The Wartorn Steel moved with care and as much silence as they could muster. As they proceeded through the forest, the rounded the base of a hill. On the other side, a line of Horde troops all wearing the same curved bladed tabard greeted them. 

Thrannar swore. 

“Well, at least we know where Aleeren is,” the one eyed worgen to Thrannar’s left said. 

“Aye, Lad. At least we’ll get ‘er back in one piece,” the dwarf replied. 

Thrannar walked out into the open and bowed to the troll that was standing out in front. She bowed in turn. With a quick order, both armies turned and quit the field.

Aleeren was still waiting. The blood elf, Mylarash returned near dawn. 

“Good morning! That went well. Thank you,” he said happily.

Aleeren sunk back into her cage. 

“What are you doing that for,” Mylarash asked as he held out a small bag. “Go ahead. Take it. It’s your way out of here.”

Aleeren was puzzled. She crept closer and took the bag. Inside were several pieces of paper, and a gnomish survival knife. 

“Oops... Our mistake for leaving those papers lying around, and us not finding that device on you. Oh, and your gear is in a tree just past our perimiter. Man, we’re REALLY slacking today,” Mylarash said as he walked away.

Aleeren looked to her constant guards who had been forever watchful. They seemed not to care to look in her general direction. Taking the hint she set to work cutting the back of the cell away.

Thrannar stood at a table. Aleeren came in and saluted.

“Well, yer safe. Gud.”

“But, Major..? I betrayed us to...”

“Ye did nothin’ of the sort, Lass.”

“I don’t understand. I was captured and turned over our attack plans.”

“Aye. Ye did. But, who died?”

Aleeren was a t a loss.

“Aleeren... Ye did what ye ‘ad tae. I understan’ tha’. Ye got caught be th’ righ’ people. Anyone else an’ we woulda lost ye. I’ll take what ye ‘af an’ I need ye tae give yer report tae Myrre. Tha’s an order.”

Aleeren saluted with not a bit of confusion. 

“Aleeren? Send Shiru in when ye leave.”

“Aye, Thrannar. Thank you.”

Aleeren left and Shiru, the Demon Hunter stalked in. 

“You called for me, Thrannar.?”

“Shiru, I need ye tae meet up with Meaine, and Malthosia. I want ye tae give ‘em fel,” Thrannar says with a grave nod as he hands Shiru a scroll.

“Understood.”

“Blades’ troop movements. Don’ ask, an’ don’ let anyone ‘af et.”

“None shall touch it.”

“Gud... Stay away from th’ Blades. Everyone else is fair game. Burn tha’ after ye memorize et.”

“Good. I need a workout,” Shiru said with an evil looking grin.

“Gud. Take yer team. Ye ‘af yer orders.”

“Indeed,” Shiru said simply as he left.

When Thrannar was alone, he sat down heavily at his desk. He held his head in his hands.

“What ‘af I done,” he asked with a heavy heart.

[wazafam]

Vision's line in WandaVision episode 8 about grief not only resonated with audiences but also fixed a longstanding problem the MCU has had with death. For the majority of the series' run up through its penultimate episode, the draw has been the brilliantly blended structure of strict genre sitcom meeting the familiar beats of the MCU, with enough Easter eggs and references to keep those familiar with the comic books spinning theories and speculating on what might happen next. As with any IP that has deep lore, some of those fan theories admittedly read far too much foreshadowing into elements that were relatively straightforward. Still, part of the great fun of WandaVision has been the post-episode discussion each week.

Yet, underneath the comic book connections and the sitcom-wrapped mystery, at its heart, WandaVision is a show about a woman working through the process of grieving. Like most superheroes, the characters of the MCU have lost much. No one, however, has had as much sustained loss as Wanda Maximoff. When she was 10, she and her twin brother, Pietro, were orphaned in a bomb blast that killed their parents, forcing them to grow up in an orphanage in a war-torn country. Wanda was, at most, only in her early 20s when she lost Pietro in the Avengers' battle with Ultron. A few years later, she was responsible for the death of multiple civilians when her magic went awry. Finally, she was forced to watch the love of her life, Vision, die twice, once by her own hand and once by Thanos before being snapped out of existence herself. When she returned, she was forced to confront the horrific sight of her soulmate's synthezoid body ripped apart and desecrated on a cold laboratory table.

Related: Scarlet Witch: Wanda's MCU Superhero Name Explained

Wanda being forced by Agatha Harkness to relive these traumatic moments was one of the most painful chapters ever told in MCU history, but they ultimately led to a poignant flashback scene between Wanda and Vision that unfolded in the weeks after Pietro's death. As Vision sat on her bed, Wanda haltingly poured her heart out to him about the grief and depression hitting her in waves. Characteristically, Vision put his own simple and eloquent spin on the negativity of grief: "But what is grief if not love persevering?" It was a line that resonated with people across the spectrum, audiences connecting with it on a fundamental level. Marvel finally grappling with its indifferent approach to loss and death could not have come at a better time.

Vision has long been Marvel's philosopher king, a being whose slight remove from humanity enables him to understand it best. More than any other MCU character, Vision is the one who spends the most time grappling with abstract concepts. While the other Avengers are doers, Vision is a thinker, Rodin's famous sculpture made synthetic flesh. Unsurprising, then, that he's had some of the most starkly beautiful lines in the MCU - "But a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts" from Avengers: Age of Ultron being the first and most memorable of these. He is a creature born into and made of existential crisis and it's why he was so well-suited to deliver an interpretive view of grief that was desperately needed by a world struggling to adapt to a state of prolonged existential angst.

Wanda's MCU journey has been the world's journey of the past year: She has not been able to properly grieve for her compounding losses, instead forced to carry on in her duty to others, forced to carry on in her role as an Avenger, not given the chance to slow down and fully process all that she has needed to without realizing it. There is no cap on the emotional impact of loss, no number past which it stops hurting, but it is possible, when the losses pile up too many in too short a time, to become numb to it.

It's what the world has collectively experienced, perhaps no country more than the U.S. To date, 525,776 Americans have died of Covid, 2,543,285 in the world. Two million, five hundred and forty-three thousand, two hundred and eighty-five people gone in the span of a year from a merciless disease, often dying alone and scared. Schools shuttered, businesses closed, many for good, a unique blend of unrelenting stress and stagnating isolation ripping apart the social fabric and keeping people from the one thing humans need most right now: a collective period of mourning, to grieve together over all that has been lost of life, livelihood, loved ones and security. It's a fundamental aspect of humanity the MCU has long ignored.

Related: Why Agatha Let Scarlet Witch See Vision And Quicksilver's Corpses

The world has been collectively denied a natural, healthy process of grieving, an emotional stunting mirrored in the MCU since its inception. Every single hero has experienced enormous, personal Earth-shattering loss. The death of parents. The death of loved ones. The death of friends. The loss of one's future, or of one's own mind. The loss of childhood innocence, the death of all those they couldn't save. It is a staggering amount of heartbreak for a relatively small number of people.

Yet, until Wanda's emotional journey in WandaVision, it's rarely been touched upon in the MCU. Heart-shattering death and loss happen to the Avengers and their allies, and then the story moves on. The only two Avengers to ever allow themselves to grieve - really grieve, to sit with it and not try to run from it or deny it - have been Natasha and Steve in Avengers: Endgame. Beyond those fleeting scenes, any significant consequences, such as the Sokovia Accords, have only related to the external devastation by characters; the internal devastation of characters has remained largely unexplored.

It's a recurring pattern in the MCU. Thor didn't really grieve the loss of his family so much as completely disassociate. Loki was ever so briefly the picture of grief after Frigga's death in Thor: The Dark World, but Thor immediately cut his grieving short by offering him vengeance instead. Star-Lord is still reviled by fans for punching Thanos in his grief over Gamora instead of sticking to the plan. Steve Rogers jumped from losing 75 years he'll never get back and the chance to be with his one true love right into being an Avenger, burying himself in work. Bucky Barnes has never fully expressed the horror his own mind being taken from him. Rocket Raccoon and Nebula were torn apart and put back together over and over and channeled it into rage. Drax lost his entire family and it turned him into a single-minded hero bent on revenge; Helmut Zemo lost his family and it turned him into a single-minded villain bent on revenge. Peter Parker is only 16 years old and has experienced more death and trauma than most adults; it's never been addressed. The M.O. of Marvel's heroes and villains alike has been to channel devastating loss into rage or duty, never a natural cycle of grief. Again: Doers, not thinkers. Because of this, Marvel has conditioned audiences to expect heroes to be stalwart and unbowed even while bearing the heaviest weights, but it's not a natural response or a responsible message to send.

WandaVision finally addresses it all directly; Vision's line is both the permission to grieve and a reshaping of the concept of grief in the MCU by fully acknowledging it exists in the first place. To Vision, the compassionate and wise synthezoid, grieving is not a display of weakness, but of love. It is a natural extension of humanity. Rather than offering Wanda hollow platitudes, he instead understands, even better than the humans around her, that profound grief goes hand-in-hand with profound love.

Related: Vision Finally Showed Why He Was Worthy Of Lifting Thor's Hammer

So Wanda leans into it. In her, the cycle of grief long denied the rest of the MCU is playing out fully. The alternate reality Hex bubble of Westview may be a tremendously powerful witch's way of working through emotional devastation, but she's still working through it, nonetheless. For the audience, it's about figuring out the mystery of her world; for Wanda, it's about saying goodbye to her whole world. The Westview Hex isn't an act of aggression but a protective cocoon that allows Wanda to go as deep into her grief as she needs to, a magically-induced emotional coma that enables her to process the enormity of her loss and pain to reemerge when she's ready. Anyone who has experienced profound loss understands this, the way the mind partially shuts down to protect the heart from being battered by the full onrushing wave of desolation hitting all at once.

It's an emotional arc the other Avengers have never been granted, a long-overdue acknowledgment of the fullness of the lived experience of these characters. Audiences only know of characters what they see on screen. Allowing the audience to finally see what's behind the emotional curtain, to be granted a glimpse at the incredibly human response of Scarlet Witch, a woman with the ability to remake the world, is to be reminded these characters are humans before they are heroes. Wanda's grieving process reframes the other Avengers by association; one suddenly understands what they may be wrestling with in the moments in-between the times they're on screen. WandaVision was the first Marvel property to fully explore the aftermath of death and loss, but hopefully, it won't be the last. The Avengers and the audience both deserve richer emotional landscapes than what they've been granted thus far.

More: WandaVision: Why Vision's Return Has To End In Tragedy For Scarlet Witch

WandaVision's Perfect Line About Grief Fixes The MCU's Problem With Death from https://ift.tt/302m56z

[dungeonsandberries]

Session 21: Trial

In which the party finds that all they can do is wait...

The Freitzes had prepared more traps along the way, but nothing Veilour was unable to overcome. We baited out and slew the guards left in our way, including a dog-like creature who was obeying the very letter of its orders and a dream-eating monstrosity that made its lair in the sewer water below.

Past them, we found the hidden prison where the Freitzes kept their political enemies. One of them was a man named Edrif Mohrim, son of Ralcoth Mohrim. Unfortunately I had never heard of him or his family, and I suspect they’re nobles of little note. The other prisoner was far more interesting, a woman whose estate I had performed in at the command of my master: Udella von Vivrudz. She recognized me when I introduced myself through my disguise, and she explained that her family provided the Freitzes a private army of mercenaries in exchange for her continued safety.

We had not only gained two witnesses to the Freitzes’ crimes, we had also cut them off from a large amount of their armed forces. We secured the prisoners and began to make our way out, when we were stopped by the curious sight of a mantis the size of a man who was dressed like an aristocrat. He was collecting the bodies of the slain demons, and explained that he was the Freitzes contractor from whom they gained their fiendish allies.

We let the despicable creature live, so as not to make yet another enemy, but I don’t know how we can use this information to our advantage as of yet. We simply didn’t inform him of the corpse of the guard we had left with Airika and Amber, as we needed him for evidence.

We found our way out blocked by the town guard, who had found the unconscious body of the barkeep I had attacked. I didn’t hide her as well as I had hoped, I suppose. Thankfully, Udella was with us and vouched for us, allowing us to leave as she handled the investigation from there. She told us to meet her at her estate the following day.

We met back up with Airika and Amber and made use of our new pocket mansion to hide away for the night, and it was truly everything I could have hoped for. All of the luxuries of my old life, with total privacy and security. I only wished we could hide inside of it until all this business with Aurmilx had blown over, but the mansion had a time limit and period where we could not make use of it.

The following morning, we adopted our disguises from the previous evening and set out to meet with Udella at her estate, but this proved to be a mistake, as the Freitzes had quickly gone about spinning our break-in from the last evening in their favor, using propaganda and wanted posters. The public had turned against the Vivrudz family for the time being, but fortunately for us, they were seeking our disguises, not us. We turned back into our true forms, even though it left me feeling exposed.

We pushed past the crowd of protestors in front of the Vivrudz estate, even as some of them tried to use our entrance to bolt inside. I hadn’t anticipated how much good will existed for the Freitzes within the city. But it wouldn’t be enough to save them from the mountain of evidence piled up against them.

Still, the courts move slowly, even with evidence such as this. We would have to wait a week or two for the verdict to be given, during which time Veilour would have to remain so he could testify. None of us were comfortable with giving the cult so much time to complete their objectives, and we told Udella about them so she could help guard against their influence within Gunnato, but we didn’t see an alternative. We couldn’t risk the Freitzes going free, or escaping to hunt us down later.

The next two weeks were unremarkable, and for my part, enjoyable. I spent most of the time acting as a bodyguard for Amber and Udella, just as I had for my master before them. I also got an opportunity to finally try on the dress Felfedau had given me. My companions, however, were much less content with the downtime. Veilour and Felfedau were overcome with anxiety, spending most of their downtime worrying about the Freitzes and Felfedau’s ominous dreams. Maevia was restless and went out at nights, always coming back battered but seeming more content than she had previously. Marv simply struggled with withdrawal from Laborer’s Respite.

All of us were glad when the final court day came. Due to being wanted within the city, I chose to wait outside with Airika, but within the courtroom itself the trial moved quickly with such damning evidence against the Freitzes.

Troublingly, only Mierre attended the trial, as Liselle had fled into hiding. This only served to work further against them, but we quickly found out they knew that they had no hope of winning this trial. They weren’t here for that. A small squad of demons appeared within the court, causing the jury to panic, as Mierre laid out an ultimatum: give her the Phantom’s Teardrop, or she would unleash her minions upon the civilians and take it from Veilour by force...

[swanslovequeens-blog]

swan queen fan fiction recommendations:

brought to you by cara, @swanslovequeens​

these are some of my favorite fics, and i thought i’d share them with you so that you newcomers can find your footing in the fan fiction world of swan queen :)

Meet Me Halfway: by hunnyfresh

Emma Swan works hard every night as a bartender, struggling to raise her son and save up enough to own her own bar. Regina Mills is an upper class New York photographer who wouldn’t normally spare a second glance at people below her. When their paths cross, their lives adapt to each other, but how much are they willing to change?

How a Dress Changed Everything: by hopex2

In an act of desperation, Regina enacts a spell that takes her back to the day Henry leaves for Boston. Regina wants to keep the Savior from ever entering Storybrooke, but when she takes her son’s place, she finds herself unprepared for who exactly she encounters. She wants to fight fate but Regina begins to realize she may have to gain some allies if she wants to win.

Letters from War: by hunnyfresh

Emma is a soldier on a reserve in Fort Benning. Regina is the Mayor of Storybrooke. Through a pen pal program designed to ease the ache of homesick soldiers, Emma and Regina begin sending letters to one another as their relationship grows from cordial acquaintance to something neither woman would have expected—until the letters stop coming.

Flight SQA016: by CurvyPragmatist

Emma Swan has recently taken a job with Crown Airlines working in the first class cabin flying from New York to London. Regina Mills is a literal high-flying business executive with terrible social skills. Alternative Universe, no curse, no magic, no Storybrooke. Slowburn SwanQueen.

Popcorn Love: by chrmedpoet

A prominent figure amongst New York City’s fashion elite, Regina Mills is a successful businesswoman and single mother to an adorable three-year-old son, Henry. Her love life, however, is lacking, as those closest to her keep pointing out. At the persistent urging of her closest friend, Regina reluctantly agrees to a string of blind dates if she can find a suitable babysitter for Henry. Enter Emma Swan, a free-spirited senior at the New York University. Regina is intrigued by Emma’s ability to push her out of her element, and the young woman’s instant and easy connection with a normally shy Henry quickly earns Emma the job. After each blind date, Regina returns home to complain to Emma about her lacking suitors. As they bond, Regina begins to realize the person possessing all the qualities she most desires might just be the woman who has been in front of her the whole time. The vast difference between the two women’s social statuses, however, may be an obstacle not easily overcome.

Adventures with Cora Mills: by WitchyLove14

A series of adventures with Cora. Regina and Emma are together and experience adventures with Cora, since she is new to this world, is amused and terrified of some things, and likes to cause trouble. Language. Talks of sexy times. Fluff. SwanQueen. Cora is the biggest SQ shipper ever.

Incoming Messages: by hunnyfresh

Ruby makes Emma a dating profile. The only catch is that she’s listed as a guy. That wouldn’t be such a problem if Emma hadn’t found Regina’s profile and begins communicating with the Mayor.

A Fine Line: by hunnyfresh

Upon Regina’s banishment, the small town of Storybrooke becomes protected once again by an enchantment that prevents anyone from leaving or entering Storybrooke. Emma and Regina find themselves on the edge of the town, wishing for a way to the other side.

Breaking Boundaries: by hunnyfresh

Companion piece to A Fine Line: When Emma and Regina return to Storybrooke, Regina begins to realize she was never truly alone in that town.

Henry’s Gift: by hunnyfresh

-AU- There is no curse. There are only people, circumstance and heartbreak. Henry seeks to reunite his divorced mothers if it’s the last thing he does

Falling in My Lemonade: by exquisiteliltart

Camp Director Regina Mills has some serous rules and regulations in place to keep order in her life and ensure that her summer camp runs more like a boot camp. Emma is a new camp counselor who just wanted a summer job that provided room and board. An act of nature ruins Emma’s cabin, and the only available housing is to share the Director’s cabin. They soon find they have a turbulent attraction, but will Regina break her strict rules to be with Emma?

Black Lace: by Standbackufools

Emma and Henry find a way around the ‘no visiting’ rule involving binoculars and the walkie talkie. Emma’s attention is fully on her son, she truly doesn’t intend to watch Regina at all. At least until the mayor begins undressing in front of her window..

The Art of Being Extraordinary: by purplehershey

AU. Henry, age 23, decides to give the crowd what they want, what they really want. A story. So he tells them the only one he knows: the greatest love story of all time, and it just so happens, that this love story is his mothers’.

A Trail of Destruction: by starsthatburn

A hostage situation in City Hall leaves behind a battered, broken sheriff, and a mayor wracked with guilt. Trigger warnings for violence and gun threats and general angst. Slow-burn swan queen.

Coveted: by I.heart.mean.girls

Set before the curse breaks. An accident leads Emma to discover Regina’s secret and she goes to great lengths to use it to gain leverage against the mayor. emma slowly becomes fixated on her plan, putting everything she has built in Storybrooke, including her relationship with Ruby, at risk. Rate M for language and sexy times.

Send Up a Signal (That Everything’s Fine): by coalitiongirl

Emma Swan is catapulted into stardom, the newest lead actress on a sanitized show featuring modern fairytales. Regina Mills is a long-undermined star with a chip on her shoulder and a thousand reasons why she’s invested. Naturally, they loath each other on sight. Their characters’ fanbases, however, have other ideas.

Love Undefined: by hummingbirdswords

It’s been eight years since the last time Regina and Emma saw each other, eight years since Emma lost part of her happiness, her family, and everything fell apart. But she hasn’t forgotten those three years in New York, or any of what Regina had brought into her life. And if she can be honest with herself, she might even admit that she wants it back. A late night phone call to Regina takes Emma back eleven years to when they met, saved each other from loneliness, and Emma started learning what it meant to live. She relives the moments that had changed her life for the better, and even the ones that had hurt. The question is never if there was love between the two of them, but if the love that was there eight years ago will be enough to bring them back to each other’s life

hope you enjoy these special favorites of mine!!

(please message me personally for explanation for Letters from War, Flight SQAU16, and Popcorn Love. Thanks!)

[smartalker]

Magpie Bridge [2/10 - Orihime]

ENTITLED: Magpie Bridge FANDOM: Mass Effect Andromeda - Reyes/Ryder RATING: M LENGTH: 50k via 10 chapters GENRE: Romance/Sci-Fi/Drama/Humor, in that order SUMMARY: With the Kett subdued and Andromeda’s terraforming system running at full power, Kadara Port swiftly establishes itself as the trade capital of the galaxy. The city’s unique combination of affluence, corruption, and growing power inevitably earns the ire of both the Nexus, and Aya. Under tremendous pressure to disavow a known criminal’s legitimacy, Ryder once again returns to Kadara hoping to broker peace, but the Charlatan wants something very different from her… ALT SUMMARY: Two people fall in love, galaxy breaks.

Ryder was different, but in a way that was hard to explain. Rather than changing, she had become more of herself. More confident, more focused. If life could be seen as a series of blows and each strike was another opportunity to shape a person, she had sharpened. Like a blade beneath the blacksmith’s hammer, she had solidified, shook off excesses—rather than bending.

Reyes leaned out over the veranda’s railing. He was at a local favorite, a new restaurant that specialized in breading and frying the local vegetation. The establishment’s peak hours hung between midnight and dawn, the darkest time. Kadara’s vegetation naturally contained weak toxin that, when warmed correctly, could act as a psychedelic for both humans, Angara, and the Asari.

“Waiting for someone?”

Distracted, Reyes reached for his battered leaves. The waitress who’d spoken to him raised her eyebrows. He’d been squatting for nearly half an hour, and the place was overflowing. “You could say that,” Reyes conceded. “But I think it’s going to be a while.”

Annoyed, the waitress eyed him for another moment, then left. He’d have to buy a round for the house soon.

Another important change: Ryder had more freckles.

Reyes considered the aesthetics of freckles as he checked his omni-tool. Nothing. Quiet.

The street below was very dark.

“Not much of a view,” said a soft, low voice.

He glanced back over his shoulder. A petite Asari in clean, new-looking space armor was lounging at a nearby table. She had a small, smug smile, and very dark lipstick. Once she knew he’d seen her, the Asari stood, and picked her way towards him. She was very slight, almost underdeveloped. No scars. Young? Hard to tell. “So who is this person you’re waiting for?” she asked. “A woman?”

“Of course,” Reyes smiled easily. “She takes her time. But I am very good at waiting.”

She regarded him for a moment, her black eyes curving with laughter. “Forgive me. A human is never patient.”

She attacked a half-second later than he’d predicted, with monstrous, raw biotics. Her power was wild, unrefined. It blew out the balcony’s iron railing and sent the now mangled metalwork not only across the street, but through the neighboring building’s wall. If he’d been slower, he’d have been dead. There were screams as those who had avoided the balcony’s blast rushed back into the restaurant—and still more commotion from the street below. Reyes scrambled to his feet, smiling at his attacker. “I thought someone was watching me.”

The Asari was frozen, her eyes livid. She writhed ineffectively at the biotic chokehold his bodyguards had slapped upon her. The veins in her hands bulged, and receded again into her skin. She stared at him, furious, still trying to smile. “You are more important than I had realized.”

“Perhaps.”

“You met with the Pathfinder,” the Asari snapped, her voice clear, almost loud. Was she wearing a wire? Or perhaps she had an accomplice? Reyes kept his features even, careful. He’d been with Ryder only hours before. His opponents were quick. The Asari continued speaking, with that same aggressive, almost confident tone. “Has the Charlatan allied himself with the Nexus? Are they finally ready to pay attention to the problem they can’t contain?”

“I thought the Charlatan was a woman,” Reyes said mildly. His assassin sneered.

“The Angara is nothing. Don’t take us for fools. Tell the Charlatan he can wear as many faces as he wants. We will rip them away, one by one, until there is nowhere left to hide.”

“Tell her yourself!” Reyes said brightly. Her jaw locked, struggling. Reyes watched apathetically. “I always wondered, why do would someone with biotics bother with poison? Surely you can just blow yourself up. Can’t you?”

The Asari’s jaw, frozen to keep her from biting down, strained to answer him, or to end things. You could never be too careful. He kept watching her as the mental chokehold’s pressure increased, until finally, she wavered, her eyelids fluttering. Her body fell pitifully to the ground, and as Reyes searched her, he realized that her slightness was, in fact, to be expected. She was barely more than a child.

She was carrying Angaran daggers, Initiative boosters, and her armor was worth more than the average mercenary could afford, sporting some kind of stylish shield tech he hadn’t seen before. Scans showed that several of her teeth were filled with poison, but she would need to crush her molars to access it. It would be very painful.

Reyes glanced up as his two shadows slid forward, awaiting his orders. He’d chosen the twins—a pair of ancient human biotics, the sort of old women whose discretion could be matched only by their uncaring savagery. Reyes had never liked using the Asari commandos. Too flashy. “Take her back to Keema. Whoever’s sponsoring her already knows she’s been captured, we might as well make sure the Initiative knows it too. When she wakes up, see what you can get out of her.”

“If she refuses to cooperate? We kill her?” one of the old women asked.

Child murderers. Leaving little bodies in the streets. Reyes sighed. Annoying, when the child had lived longer than him. “We’ll give her to the Pathfinder. The Nexus can take her into custody.”

The old women exchanged glances. Telepathy? He would have believed it. Respectfully, one woman dipped her head, considering the young Asari. “There is a chance she may be able to divulge something unsavory to the Nexus…” she trailed off, her silence fat with meaning.

Torturer. Murderer. Sadist. Ryder’s face, when she’d seen what he did to Avitus as punishment for failing to renounce Sloane. Her face, when she’d seen him as the Charlatan, known that even the title he’d chosen for himself marked him as a liar. Her face, aging and recoiling before his eyes, her obvious and instinctive horror. The moment he had realized that there was a part of him she would never, ever be able to see without flinching.

Absently, Reyes dusted the rubble off his thighs, and turned away. “Get what you can from her. Keep her alive. Make sure she’ll never be able to tell anyone, anything. Especially not the Pathfinder.”

Decision: he liked her new freckles.

As Ryder’s party stripped out of their armor and boarded the Tempest, several heads popped around the corridor’s corners to watch. “Nice to see you’re back,” was Lexi’s greeting. It seemed innocent enough. Ryder was already afraid.

“We just stopped for a drink on the way back,” Ryder explained, her voice oddly high-pitched. She glanced hopefully at Drack and Cora, neither of whom seemed interested in covering for her.

Lexi’s arms were crossed, her spine rigid. Very slowly, and with considerably deliberation, her weight shifted to one hip. “Of course,” the doctor acknowledged. “A drink.”

Or several. Ryder grumbled, then realized that Drack had apparently mastered the art of evaporation. Her favorite Krogan was nowhere to be seen.

Lexi had privately decided that she didn’t have the energy to badger someone who regarded their internal organs as currency, and she now settled into easier targets with a sense of relative comfort. “I’m not sure where to start. Wait, yes, I do. Cora?”

Cora’s mouth actually dropped a little. She looked indignantly at Ryder. “Me? Why am I being singled out?”

“Did you even wear sunscreen?” Lexi demanded.

“Yes.” Cora said, immediately and definitively and shifty as hell.

Scans reveal she is lying, SAM pitched in.

“Sunscreen is important,” Ryder pitched in. “Very anti-cancer, that stuff. Yep.” She slunk rapidly towards the nearest escape route, and was more than a little perturbed when Lexi’s hand snagged her jacket sleeve, especially since there should have been several meters separating them. Ryder smiled nervously. “You’re pretty speedy for a Doctor.”

“Aloe vera,” Lexi barked at Cora, who was actually jogging down the hall. Casually. Casual jogging. Lexi returned her glare to Ryder. “And you.”

The Pathfinder wore sunscreen, SAM reported. Nice to know someone was on her side.

“I thought we were arresting your boyfriend,” Lexi growled. “I don’t see a detainee. SAM’s monitors show your oxytocin excretion levels all over the place!”

“I don’t think the word excretion should be allowed on this ship?” Ryder said, to the ceiling. “I also would like to point out that SAM is a traitor and this is totally an invasion of privacy? Just, you know. For the captain’s log.” Lexi was still holding/pinning her by the arm. Which was buzzing. Her arm was buzzing? For one wild moment Ryder wondered if her weird headaches had migrated, but no, it was just her omni-tool. Someone was calling.

“Ryder, you might be able to lie to me, but your body can’t. And I am telling you, as your doctor, you cannot rationally or fairly involve yourself in this mission.” Lexi insisted. Ryder groaned. Why was Lexi so smart and caring? Why couldn’t she be a practitioner of the Band-Aid cure-all methodology? Twisting the knife still deeper, Lexi’s tone softened (her arresting grip did not). “Personally, Ryder, I don’t want to see you or anyone else be hurt. I kept quiet before now because, to be blunt, I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. I also was unable to argue that someone else would be better suited to the job. But I cannot continue to sanction your behavior without, at the very least, regular psychological evaluations.”

Trapped like a rat. The psych evals weren’t bad, truthfully. Lexi was a big believer in comfort as a facilitator of intimacy, meaning she had a very nice couch.

The Pathfinder is considering stabbing a fork through her hand to avoid discussing her feelings, SAM reported. Lexi’s attention diverted.

“Left or right?”

Non-dominant.

“At least you’ve still kept some pragmatism,” Lexi acknowledged. She let go of Ryder’s arm. “Fine. Collect yourself first. But then, we talk.”

Ryder nodded furiously, almost disbelieving her good luck as Lexi turned to go. For good measure, and because she was an excellent doctor, Lexi still remembered to nag. “And for the love of the Goddess, hydrate yourself.”

“Yes. Hydration and reflection. Doing that,” Ryder noted, already checking her omni-tool. Reyes? Reyes.

Meet me tomorrow morning? Café called Tiramisu.

Hell yeah.

Keema flinched the moment she saw him. Reyes preferred to work from the shadows when he could—but there were some things that had to be done in person. And there’d been a time in his past when he’d been good—very good—at climbing in through people’s windows. Even the locked ones. Even the ones that should have been impossible to open, like the window to Keema’s private quarters. “My god,” Keema breathed. She pressed a hand to her breast, likely more for dramatic effect than shock. “There’s no need to glare.” She recovered herself, obviously stalling for time as she waltzed to her private collection of liqueurs. “Drink?”

“I told you to keep your mouth shut,” Reyes snarled. He’d meant to keep things cool. Plans changed.

Keema didn’t quite look at him. “I disagreed.”

Reyes rolled to his feet. A weird, unknown energy vibrated through his limbs. Keema poured, offered. He shook his head. “I don’t want her involved.”

“She is involved.” Keema snapped, and tossed down her shot. She smacked her lips angrily. “Don’t let your feelings get in the way of yourself. The Pathfinder is more than capable of handling herself. She’ll probably find the fake Charlatan before you can.”

Reyes ground his teeth. “Not everyone will be able to tell the difference between the good and the bad, when this fake is found.”

“So that’s it?” Keema’s face began to glow. “I don’t understand you at all.” She poured again, almost forcing the next drink on him. “You worry what she’ll think of you.”

“I worry about losing our alliance—”

“She wouldn’t dare. And you know it. You’re a nasty piece of work that likes pretending to be just rough around the edges. And she’ll find out. And she’ll hate you,” Keema laughed. “You know, I sometimes wonder. What do you tell her about yourself?”

Extremely little. Reyes pulled himself back, returned to the dark window he’d cut his way through. The cold air helped, moderately. He’d come too far to lose control like this. “I should have listened to you,” he conceded, relieved to hear his tone could pass for polite. “Your concerns are real ones.”

“If I’d known it only took a human woman to make you back down, I’d have found you one sooner,” Keema snipped. Reyes drank before answering. Whatever she’d given him was hot, and painful, and nasty.

He turned back to Keema, offering a pleasant smile. “Now who’s being petty?”

“I beg your pardon,” Keema replied.

Cold air. He could be cold. “Your decision to ask for the Pathfinder’s help was the right one. But you still made it without me. I can’t have you making those calls on your own.”

At last, Keema nodded. “I know.”

“We were both wrong. Let’s agree to put this behind us.” He thought about leaping back out the window. It seemed a little dramatic. Reyes headed for the door, adding as he left, “Do this again, and you’re done.”

Reyes was late.

Ryder slouched back against her chair, ignoring SAM’s reminder that doing so would atrophy her muscles. Reyes was late. Of course. No biggie. Except that she was the Pathfinder and how dare he keep the Pathfinder waiting. Just saying.

Kadara was sleepy in the morning. It felt cleaner. Less crowded, that was for sure, but she also could have been feeling lonely thanks to her decision to shake her team. ‘Shake her team’ meaning ‘sneak out of the Tempest,’ a thing that was generally frowned upon and, definitely, bad. Very bad. Bad Pathfinder.

Ryder rubbed her eyes, sulking. She deserved to sulk. She was good at her job and responsible and could shoot a bird out of the sky at 500 meters. Did Kadara have birds? Irrelevant. Point was: people needed to get off her back because she had this.

Suddenly, darkness. A hand, hot and very dry covering her eyes. Close enough for her eyelashes to graze. She should have been afraid. She shouldn’t have relaxed. It was a very big and very stupid problem that she relaxed. “You should take off your armor sometimes,” Reyes mused. “It’s just me.”

Ryder twisted around, pretending to glare. “Do you have some sort of problem with approaching so people can see you?”

“No, just you.”

“Why just me?”

He took his time strolling around the table, claiming his seat opposite her. Even as he pretended to pout, his face was alive with laughter, almost mocking. “You’re so good at running away from me. I don’t want to play nice anymore.”

“That’s not fair.” Ryder protested, with new guilt. Did he think she was running away? She wasn’t running away. She was doing Pathfinder things.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, almost gently. “Don’t look so upset.”

Ryder blushed, feeling stupid. Of course he didn’t think that. He probably didn’t think of her at all. She tried for a breezy laugh. “Upset! I’m not upset. Anyway. You’re supposed to be telling me about the bad guys.”

“What’s your rush?”

“Uh,” Ryder clamped her mouth shut. She was truthfully not even sure where to begin. Her sense of duty? Professionalism? Her crew’s constant vigilance and clear dissatisfaction with the mission at hand? “Nothing. No rush.”

“Such a bad liar. I almost want to teach you.”

“Why don’t you?”

He just looked at her. Defiant, Ryder stared back. He looked tired. A little older than she remembered. What was he doing that made so worn out? Did he ever get hurt—would he even tell her if he was? Would he tell her anything?

Reyes smirked, and she shook herself free of her thoughts. “Have you eaten?”

“Is it safe?”

“Don’t be that way.” Reyes leaned back, settling himself more comfortably into his chair. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you.”

“About me? What about me?” Ryder squinted at him, suspicious.

“This time apart, has it changed things? Between us? You seem more distant.”

“Distant!” Ryder squeaked, now indignant. “We kissed!”

“No. I kissed you.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“I like it better the other way.”

“You would.” Ryder snorted, then caught herself. She was not going to spend the morning flirting. She had definitely promised herself that. Trying for neutral ground, she gestured at their surroundings. “Why this place? Come here often?”

He rocked forward, pulling his chest over the small table between them. There was a new scar on his forearm, almost startlingly white against his skin. Ryder promised herself not to ask. Watching his shoulders hunch, the way he filled the space in front of her, she struggled to accept his physicality. It was ironic, considering how much time she spent ignoring Liam as he paraded his abs across the Tempest. “It might surprise you to know that it isn’t easy to get good coffee on this space rock,” Reyes intimated. He did his usual sign language with a passing waitress, which Ryder watched jealously.

“Let me guess—you drink it black?”

“Are you out of your mind? Three spoons of sugar. I like them sweet.” He winked.

Ryder stared.

Reyes giggled. “Okay. Sorry.”

“My father would have punched you.” Their coffee arrived. Ryder drank it straight, with a poker face that was almost murderous.

“You old soldier,” Reyes continued to snicker. He leaned back, now trilling an R at her. She kicked him under the table.

“Stop giggling! And! This coffee is terrible!”

“Like I said, you’d be surprised how hard it is to get good coffee on this space rock—”

She kicked him again. “Did you seriously just call me here to drink bad coffee with me?”

“I dream of the day,” Reyes returned. He was coming down from whatever giddiness he’d felt before now, and she felt sorry for it. Ryder glanced down. Her stomach was cramping. She should have eaten something.

The moment stretched and dropped between them. Their silence shrank and made space for the noise of the world around them. Ryder let herself relax, feeling oddly at peace. Beneath the morning sun, saying nothing with a dangerous man, she drank her bad coffee and watched him wake up.

Reyes finished his drink and offered his hand to her, “Come with me?”

She thought about refusing. Or even just asking questions. Instead, she followed. She followed him down side streets, through dizzying crowds of people, into long, dark hallways. Past empty apartments and arguing peddlers. Two fire-eaters were about to brawl for a street corner, their eyes and their flames both flashing. She followed him until she realized that she was lost—so lost that it would be hard to find her way back out, even with SAM. There had been too many things to see, so much to take in. “Will you be escorting me back out of here?” she asked him, half joking. He had never let go of her hand.

Reyes stopped. “I’ll consider it. What do you think of this?”

She wasn’t sure what she was looking at. It seemed like just another of Kadara’s alleys—small, foul-smelling. There was one thing, though—it was empty. An empty path in a city swollen with people.

The street is freshly washed, SAM noted. Ryder’s fingers clenched.

“Did someone die here?” she asked. Reyes glanced at her. He had been looking at the wall. Surprised, Ryder followed his gaze.

“Yes. There was a child here,” he agreed. There was something about the wall. She could sense it. Cautiously, Ryder reached to brush the rough-cut stone with her fingers. Someone had painted this building green—but not recently. At least a year ago. She was just about to ask SAM to run a scan for a deeper analysis, when she saw it.

“It’s a face?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She reached out to touch the left eye’s image. SAM was scanning. Rather than painting or drawing the face, someone had gone into the stone itself, and cut out a rough approximation of human features. The overall effect suggested that someone had just begun to emerge through the wall, face-first. “Well, that’s creepy.”

“Isn’t it?” Reyes asked. “It took me a while to notice too. They usually use the victim’s blood to paint something ridiculous on the walls, which covers up the face. It’s only after things are washed away that you see it.”

“The others were like this too?”

Reyes sighed. “There are others. Not all. The problem is there are too many copycats. Someone’s seen the paintings but not what hides beneath them, is my guess.”

She had to tell her crew. “You have pictures of the others, right? Can you send them to me?”

“Done,” Reyes agreed. He waited for her to finish scanning, then reached her wrist. “I’ll take you back.”

She looked around once more, then followed him obediently. He glanced back at her, grinning. “Some date.”

“We have our own style.”

He laughed. “I like that.”

He’d trusted her, letting her in. She felt good. “Is that the only thing you like?”

“It’s a start,” Reyes murmured. He’d paused to touch a passing door knob—and he’d twisted—something? But with the barest push she heard a lock snap and in the next second Reyes tugged her wrist, and she was in, off the street and in his arms, while whirls of lazy dust lit the air with gold around them.

Her heart was racing. “You came prepared.”

“I am always prepared,” he pulled her more tightly against him. “Are you impressed?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yes,” he said, and just barely in time. Ryder lifted herself onto her toes, and pressed her mouth to his. She didn’t want to hurry. As she kissed him she peeked one eye open. He kissed her with his eyes closed. Somehow, this thrilled her. She broke away to kiss his eyelids, and beneath her mouth, they trembled.

“Silly,” he whispered.

She wanted him. She had to go back to the ship. She wanted him.

He knew it.

She pushed herself away, unsuccessfully.

“Where are you going?” Reyes asked, his mouth grazing the edge of her ear—a feeling between ticklish, and an itch. She wasn’t going to look at him. She wasn’t going to look. She looked.

“This isn’t going to work,” she hissed through tight, determined teeth. “I can’t do this right now. I snuck out while everyone was sleeping to be here, I—I said I wouldn’t do this.”

“Okay.” Reyes didn’t let go. “But do it anyway.” He pushed her hair back, rough hands on her neck, holding the base of her skull just a little too firmly. He kissed, lovingly, the extent of her throat. He bit, hard enough to make her gasp.

“Distracting me is definitely not going to work—”

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” He was pulling on her armor. No, he was barely touching it. Like a lock pick, her gear fell around her, like nothing had been standing in his way to begin with. Her shield plate, nearly banging her foot as it dropped. She didn’t even know that her arms could feel naked, but they did—they did. She couldn’t bring herself to even think about stopping him, not when it was so easy—why was it always so easy for him?

“I don’t have to prove anything to you,” Ryder protested, barely hearing herself. He had knelt, and was unthreading the straps and snaps around her legs. Her thighs, now, bared to the air. Unconsciously, she reached to touch his hair, only just grazing the side of his head with her fingertips. He looked up at her, his face now catching the sunlight, his eyes shining. He seemed, suddenly, vulnerable.

“But don’t you want to?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he asked to tease her, or because—maybe—she was actually something he actually wanted.

“Yes,” she admitted, horrified when her voice cracked. He gazed up at her, unreadable. For too long, he said nothing. For too long, she fell without a safety net.

It was too much. Her face burning, Ryder scrambled to grab her armor, throwing it back on. “I should go,” she muttered. He watched her. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Hey,” Reyes said. Ryder paid attention to her breast plate, to sealing things as fast as possible. “Hey,” he said again.

“What?”

He handed her a missing glove. “Can I try again?”

She hated herself for falling for him. Of all people. He probably didn’t even like her that much. When he smiled at her, when she saw his uncertainty—she believed that he did. Trying to hold on to her anger, Ryder groused, “You’re not a good man.” She pulled on her glove. He pulled her to her feet. His uncertainty was gone, or hidden, or had never been there in the first place. She turned before he could kiss her goodbye.

“Would you believe me if I said that I try to be?” he asked her back.

Ryder didn’t answer.

She was going back to the ship. She really, really was. As soon as she figured out the right way to sneak onto a secured military vessel, she was in there.

Ryder huddled behind a few of the docking bay’s larger shipping containers, sweating. She was so busted. She’d been brave enough to check the messages on her omni-tool earlier. Lexi was pissed. So was Cora. So was Kallo. She hadn’t even opened the messages fully—both because she was sure the read receipts would damn her further, and because the subject lines alone were terrifying.

“It’s the truant,” Vetra said.

Ryder choked, and whirled. Definitely Vetra. Ryder couldn’t tell if the Turian was angry, or amused. Or both? Probably both. Also: everyone and their mothers were sneaking up on her these days. Everyone. This was why she didn’t do things without a sniper. “Oh, hey there Vetra,” Ryder squeaked. “I was just thinking, it’s funny, because I had SAM install all these ‘predictive combat matrices’ yesterday and then everyone started getting the jump on me.”

Vetra crossed her arms. “Ha.”

“So. I was just—”

“I honestly hope you at least got laid,” Vetra interrupted. “Because Lexi has requested a full psych eval.”

“No,” Ryder whispered. She stared hopefully up at the Turian. “You’re teasing me.”

“You are arguably a deserter.” Vetra shrugged. “No biggie.”

Ryder wilted. Vetra snorted, “Jeez Ryder, take a joke. It’s fine if you’re fine. But don’t pull that shit again. You want someone to discreetly supervise your trysts, all you gotta do is ask.”

“Ugh,” Ryder rubbed her forehead again. Seriously, ow. “You’re right. I’ll apologize. I just wanted—I thought—I don’t know.”

“You thought you had a connection.” Vetra said simply. Ryder tried not to die.

“I guess you could say that.”

“You thought that by confronting him solo, you’d somehow be able to…reach an understanding? Or something to that effect.”

Stupid stupid stupid. Ryder buried her face in her hands. “Can you maybe not tell everyone about this?”

Vetra sniggered. “Probably. For a price.”

She could only lurk behind shipping crates for so long. Sheepishly, Ryder straightened, and tried to act like she had always been striding confidently back to her ship. “It’s not like I was completely playing hooky, you know. I got some good data. I’ll have SAM upload it.”

“Good data? From Reyes?”

Ryder lifted her chin proudly. “He showed me some stuff.”

Vetra sighed, and fell in line behind Ryder as they approached the lifts back to the Tempest. “So did you know that the Collective took an assassin into custody last night? Some Asari kid with really nice armor? Ringing any bells?”

Ryder froze. “What?” she whispered.

“He didn’t tell you, huh?” Vetra crossed her arms. “Thought so.”

“It might not be what you’re thinking,” Ryder defended. She’d never felt this way before. This cold, sinking feeling. It wasn’t disappointment or anger, but something more physical—something like fear. And what was she saying, anyway? Like Reyes tickled people until they told him what he wanted to know? Come on.

“Cute,” Vetra snorted. “Almost like you’ve never seen him torture anyone before.”

“We don’t know that,” Ryder snapped. She winced. She hadn’t meant to sound angry. Vetra’s face shifted, expression cool. If Turians had eyebrows.

“Listen Ryder, I don’t have anything against the guy. It’s a rough world. A part of me thinks he’s doing what he’s gotta do, but a bigger part of me doesn’t want to see what happens when you get sucked into it. Just remember that I’m on your side here, and I’ve dealt with more crime lords than you have.”

“Right.” She felt like such an ass. Ryder closed her eyes. Migraine. Again. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Vetra shrugged. “Don’t look so bummed. I don’t care if you fuck him.”

Ryder ignored this. “Wait. How many crime lords have you dealt with?”

“Does it matter? They’re mostly dead.” Imperious, Vetra keyed in the shuttle request to deliver them back to the Tempest. Ryder squinted up at her.

“You know that thing where there’s like a hundred rats locked in a box together and eventually they eat each other until only the strongest one’s left?”

“Ugh,” Vetra wailed. She looked genuinely horrified. “Seriously Ryder, what the fuck? Rats? Those furry things with the little wormy tails, right?”

“I mean it’s not like I ever did it!” Ryder defended. Vetra continued to look repulsed.

“Why are humans so gross?” she moaned. She spent most of the shuttle ride sitting as far away from the Gross Human as possible.

Ryder, meanwhile, spent her time bracing herself for the Mom Coalition, and the snarky looks she’d probably have to endure from Vetra, Chief Audience Member.

Upon arriving at the Tempest, however, Ryder realized she’d made a mistake. She’d assumed Lexi wouldn’t have adapted her tactics. Vetra had already settled into a comfortable vantage point against the wall when Lexi, smiling beatifically, said only, “Oh, Ryder. Your brother’s expecting you.”

“What.” Ryder said. It was not really a question or even an accusation—more like an instinctive, deep rejection. Lexi sniffed.

“I do have the authority to notify next-of-kin in states of emergency. Like, when you go missing.”

“Oh man,” Vetra chortled. “You’re gonna get it.”

“What.” Ryder said again. This wouldn’t do. She cleared her throat. “What did you tell him?”

“Probably just that his sister’s fucking a gang leader,” Vetra whispered gleefully, then in her normal voice, “I mean you are though, right?”

Like Ryder really needed a reminder of how much she wanted to punch a hole through the wall right now. She glowered at Vetra. And Lexi. And the whole damn universe. Assholes. Her arm buzzed. She had four missed calls from Scott—meaning her upcoming conversation with him had officially reached natural disaster levels of bad.

“I hope there’s something left of me after all this,” Ryder said pointedly, now shuffling to her cabin. “I hope you’ve all picked out your new positions of authority following my death. But just remember: someone’s getting a bot downloaded into their head. No movie nights while the mourning period’s on. You’ll be sorry. You’ll all be sorry.”

“Stalling is unattractive.” Lexi snapped. Vetra nodded. Heartless bastards.

Ryder sealed the door to her cabin, walked to the middle of the room, and simply stood there. She gathered her courage. Scott was still 14 seconds younger than her and, also, had once dated three Krogan at the same time, so his opinion on her love life was PRETTY RICH IF YOU ASKED HER—!

Her omni-tool throbbed, interrupting her outrage. Reyes? Scott. Oh, god, it already was Scott. Five missed calls meant she might as well start setting up his guest room. “No, no, no, no,” Ryder whispered. “SAM, put him through. Shit.”

“Shit,” Scott echoed back at her, with venom. SAM had transferred the call to her room’s main terminal, making her brother’s (furious) expression five times life-size.

“Scott!” Ryder laughed nervously. Her brother was glaring. He glared like their mom. Why was everyone in their family so much scarier than her? “Hey! You look tan. It’s good. A good look. I mean, it suits you better than being frozen for hundreds of years. The coma thing was not awesome either. But at least it beats acne! Right?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. So Scott had clearly not forgotten being fifteen. Ryder laughed nervously, now loathing herself. “So, how are the Krogan?”

“I don’t know,” Scott said flatly. “Probably fine, since they can survive nuclear fallout.”

“Yep. Nuclear fallout. Gotta love aliens!” Ryder babbled. She looked frantically for some sort of plausible interruption: the Kett attacking, a sudden loss of gravity, a hull breach, her pet space rodent’s sudden mutation?

All very manageable problems.

“The Krogan have been aggressively expanding their territory on Elaaden by building roads and aqueducts,” Scott said coolly. “Also, shooting things.”

“The tried and the true.”

“Cut the shit,” Scott snapped, his eyebrows shooting up even as his voice lowered—an intimidation tactic he’d copied from his mother. Ryder could feel herself physically shrinking.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but the Nexus sent me here—”

“Don’t start,” Scott interrupted. The video feed of him wavered, and for one glorious second, Ryder thought she might be able to avoid The Conversation. But he was back, snarling, “Do you seriously think I’m going to hang out in a desert while my sister acts out her own Shakespearean tragedy in Andromeda’s asshole? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Ryder coughed. “I think calling it a Shakespearean tragedy is pretty strong.”

“Is it?” Scott screeched. So the feed was definitely not flickering, as she had previously thought. That was just her brother’s rage-spit. “Because from my point of view,” Scott yelled, “I’m watching my last family member ignore procedure because she thinks playing detective for some shady-ass flyboy is more important than her life.”

Ryder squirmed as the familiar Familial Guilt began chewing up her insides. “Look, Scott—I don’t know what you’ve heard, and I get that this has you freaked out, but everything’s fine. It’s seriously fine. I’m not doing anything outside of mission protocols—I’m not, like, running off on my own—,” guilt levels were now overwhelming, Ryder swiftly changed direction, “—and anyway, I don’t think half the people here even know I’m the Pathfinder.”

The angry lines in Scott’s face grew deeper with every word she spoke. For a long moment, he was silent, only glaring at her. She could see him chew the inside of his cheek—an old habit. When he spoke next, his anger had been muffled into resolution. “You shouldn’t be there,” Scott said calmly. “And you know it. You should be with me. We should be continuing Dad’s work, our work—together. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is, Scott!” Ryder burst, “Of course it’s what I want!”

Scott’s eyes narrowed. “Then wrap it up, and leave. Or I’ll come to you. You might be the Pathfinder, and maybe that means that the others can’t stop you, but you’re my sister. The Nexus can go to hell.”

“Scott—!” Ryder started to protest, but he’d already ended the call. She stared at the screen for over a minute, seething. This was too much. He wasn’t even the older twin! There was a line between concern and controlling and why did no one seem to observe that?

Without another outlet, Ryder simply shrieked. It was sharp, and loud, and none of her crew apparently thought it sounded urgent enough to warrant investigating. Ryder threw herself upright, pacing angrily. It wasn’t enough to have Aya, the Nexus, and her entire crew riding her ass for doing her job, now her baby brother was joining the fray. Great. Just great.

Ryder stormed out of her quarters, brushing past a jittery Kallo, who was lurking near the Med-Bay.

Wait.

Ryder turned around. “Did Suvi eat something?”

“She ate three!” Kallo wailed.

Ryder shrieked again.

[jujubieberbae]

HOW MUCH LONGER? pt 3 - Jason McCann

Check out part 1 and  part 2  by clicking here!

Part 4 will be up soon, along with another imagine!

For what felt like the hundredth time tonight, my position in my bed shifted from my right side to my back as an agitated sigh escaped my lips. I hadn’t had a restless night in years, and tonight just seemed to have broken the streak, only difference was, this time, I had a reason for the disturbance of my sleep.

It’s been a week since Jason moved into my gang house and ever since he arrived, he seems to be the only thing on my mind. Clouding up my space to think logically and making it harder for me to keep my gang safe. Its dangerous honestly. If we got attacked, I wouldn’t be on my feet, not as alert as I usually am.

But tonight just crossed the line. Tonight, my mind was running marathons because of my thoughts and it was all his fault. Not just because I knew he was here, but I could also hear it, and not in a very pleasant way. The moaning coming from the room across the hall was beginning to make me so aggravated that I was honestly ready to stomp inside waving a gun around just to make them shut up so I can use whatever time left of the night to get some sleep.

Okay, and maybe I was a little jealous, but lets not get into that.

Just knowing that Jason - my ex boyfriend and the man I am still in love with - was in the room across from me, fucking his current girlfriend senseless was killing me. Especially when I realised that, that could of been me, if I had just stayed when he needed me instead of walking out, that would be me in there with him. Pleasing me, making me feel loved, and like I was the most perfect girl ever to be created. 

Because thats what Jason McCann can do, he can not only be powerful himself, but he can make you feel powerful. And I guess thats what made us so compatible, we both loved the powerful feeling each other gave off. 

But no matter how much I wish and dream - the reality is that I did walk out that night, and although I’m not one to believe heavily in God, I can’t help but feel this was my punishment for walking out that night. Having to sit here - in the comfort of my own house, listening to the love of my life pleasure another woman. A slut to be exact. A slut that he was in a relationship with.

I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he was in love with her, there was no way. His eyes didn’t have that glint, that glint he used to have when he looked at me. That glint that no longer exists. Instead, he looks at her more as if she was a peice of meat rather then a girlfriend, and is it bad to say that relieves me? But it might just be in my head. Maybe he does really love her and I’m just in denial because I don’t want to face the fact that he’s moved on and I haven’t.

Maybe. 

But that’s the thing. Life is a big fat ‘MAYBE.’ There is no yes, or no in life. There is no guarantee. Everything is just Maybe. Maybe this was how its supposed to end, with no one receiving what they wanted, everyone just feeling shit and unhappy in the end, or maybe things will turn for the batter and a miracle might happen.

but the chance of a miracle is near impossible, so I should probably begin readying myself for a depressing ending now.

Without even realising it, I had slowly began drifting off to sleep. And without hesitation, I allowed the blessing of sleep to finally take me in its arms until tomorrow, leaving the daunting thoughts for another day.

Bitter, the perfect way to describe my mood. And what better way to express that with a cup of straight, black coffee. Placing the kettle of caffeine back onto the machine after pouring a full cup, it was a slight surprise to hear a door opening and shutting upstairs. 

Who the hell is up at this hour? Only a gang leader would wake up before Dawn. And then it hit me, how could I forget? Jason is living here now.

Soft footsteps ceased to make there way downstairs, all before his perfect body slipped past the kitchen doorway, revealing his inked chest, shirtless. His eyes darted up in surprise at seeing me standing there, before his guard fell and he shook his head. 

“I always forget your up at this time as well.” 

I shook my head, running a hand through my slight bed hair. “Same here.” 

Without thinking, I stepped back and picked up the kettle, turning around to pour it into a coffee cup Jason held out for me. It was a habit, something we did when we were together. He would get a cup while I poured him coffee, it was so random but something we just always did. 

“Got any meetings today?” Jason mumbled, sipping on the same black coffee I drank. In fact, he was the one who got me hooked on the bitter drink. 

Although we both act like mean, careless criminals, we always felt like we could just drop the act around each other, no matter what happened in our pasts.

“Just one. An old Ally wants some land, gotta put the fucker in his place.”

He smirked, side glancing me from the cup he was sipping on before slowly removing the mug from his lips, swallowing the beverage with a loud gulp.

“You hungry?” I suddenly asked. 

His eyes flickered from the floor to my face, his expression blank and hard to read. 

“I’ll make pancakes if you want?” I added.

Slowly, his eyes squinted to slits as he eyes me. “Why?” 

“What do you mean ‘why’? Because I feel like pancakes and I thought I’d be nice and offer you some as well.” As I spoke, I began walking around the kitchen, picking out ingredients for the pancakes.

“Is there a problem with that?” 

“I mean, no its just-....” He trailed off, eyes wandering around the room.

“Just what? We're not together anymore?” I scoffed. When he didn’t reply, I knew that was the answer. “Don’t be so up yourself Jason, I offered you pancakes not asked for your hand in marriage. I’ve moved on from you. Just because where Ex’s doesn’t mean I can’t be nice. I mean, where living with each other for god sakes, might as well make the most of it.”

It wasn’t an entire lie. I did want to make the most of it. I just....haven’t exactly moved on.

From the look in Jason’s eyes you could tell he was putting some effortless thought into what I had just said until his face fell flat once again, then slowly slid into a smirk. “In that case, I like Syrup on my pancakes.”

“Ah! Mr Brown, nice of you to finally join me!” I shouted in fake enthusiasm, glancing at the rolex watch on my wrist. “And your only an hour and a half late this time! This must be your new record.”

Brown smirked, placing himself in the leather chair opposing my desk, his men stepping behind him. “I tried to make it on time this time.” 

“No you didn’t.” I smiled, but there was no humour in my tone. “Everyone know’s your attempt of being fashionably late never works Axel. Stop trying.”

His smirk dropped, face turning red after being caught. “Now lets get to business. you want land? Well the only land you’ll be receiving from me is my foot, when it lands on your ass.”

“Mrs L/N, If I must remind you, you still owe me for the first drug deal you made. Remember that? When you were nearly shot. Who saved your life then?” He smirked. 

But I had the upper hand, I always did. They don’t call me most wanted for nothing! “Your right, I do owe you. Actually, I did owe you, not anymore.”

“My first drug deal was nearly 6 years ago, and If I recall, I repayed you many, many times.” i smiled. “Let’s start with when I saved you from Larson, and killed Harold for you. When you hired me to kill Michael, or what about the time I loaned you 50 grand for drug money? And lets not forget the time I -”

“Okay I get it!” Brown yelled, sighing agitatedly. 

“Good, so now that we’re both on the same page, I think it’s time you repaid your debt to me.” 

He visibly gulped. “And what would that be?”

“Well, I’m in need of a little upgrading. Not only do I have my whole gang in here but now an Alliance’s gang and I need some space.”

“So what’s it you want? You wanna send some gang members over to mine?” 

“Oh jesus no!” I laughed. “’I would never torture my gang members like that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a good torturing but only to the people who deserve it. What I want is your gang house.”

“What?!”

“You heard me. And If you didn’t get the hint, I just warned you - actually more threatened you. Get the fuck out of this state. You - and your gang.”

“But-”

I was quick to interrupt “Get out of north America, and If I see your face here again, its not gonna be pretty. Do you hear me?!” 

I was standing at this point, steam almost pouring out of my ears as I raged in fury.

“Y/N-”

“You don’t think I know you’ve been stealing from my warehouses?! Nothing goes unnoticed by me.” I gritted. “Now I’m giving you a chance to run because really, I should just shoot you, right here right now. Now either leave my office, and don’t come back, or make sure you double up on men and always look behind you, cause soon, your gonna have a bullet implanted right in that thick head of yours.”

Brown’s face was shocked, nervous and twisted in fear. Without another word, he nodded his head frantically trying to make hsi way out of the room. “Nice doing buisness with you!” i yelled as he made quick to scramble out of the room. 

Just as Brown left, Jason strolled slowly over to the door frame, leaning against the wooden post. “So...how was your deal?” 

“Great. Now that that part is over with, I’ll just get a few of my men to sneak back to his warehouse and eliminate him by tomorrow morning.”

“I thought you were letting him go.” He chuckled. 

“Nah, I just said that so he won’t suspect it. Hes less likely to put up a fight if he doesn’t see it coming.”

“Those words sound oddly familiar.” Jason sarcastically smirked. 

“They should, you taught me them.” I stated. 

“I know.” And like that, he turned on his heels to begin walking down the hall.

“Actually McCann!” 

“What?” He spat.

“Tonight, how about keeping it down. Your side hoe moans like a cow, its quite disturbing.”

Jason turned, a smirk on his face. “Why? You jealous your not getting any?”

“Hah! You wish. It’s just some people don’t enjoy falling asleep to the sound of a dying goat.” 

“You know, you gotta lotta hate towards my girlfriend. You sure that’s not personal?” He smirked. 

“Please McCann don’t flatter yourself.” I scoffed. “Just keep the fucking noise down tonight. Or rather, just leave it all together. Don’t you have any self respect?” 

“I do.” He smirked. “But my hand got kinda boring.” The smirk only grew as my face fell in discuss. A wink was sent my way before he quickly descended down the hall, leaving me weak at my knees from the wink that was only meant to piss me off.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #105: In the Beginning Was... the WORLD WITHIN!

November, 1972

This is a fun cover. Maybe I’m just a sucker for covers featuring total pandemonium, just a big ol’ chaotic scrum. Or maybe because the frog guy looks super toyetic.

This time, tiny mascot Vision looks super judgy of himself though. Although possibly for a good reason because this is a very important issue of Avengers despite it being complete filler.

Last time: Quicksilver had a big shouting row with the Avengers over Scarlet Witch’s safety, went his own way, kidnapped a dude, ran into a wall and has gone missing.

This time: Scarlet Witch is angry at you, specifically.

But, nah. She’s angry at Iron Man and Hawkeye. They’re worried about her because apparently she has been constantly manning the monitor room in the ten days since Quicksilver disappeared. Hasn’t even slept.

And Hawkeye trying to sweet talk her into taking a nap just gets something thrown at his head. Because Hawkeye. He has constant disadvantage on Charisma rolls.

Also in the ten days since their Australian adventure, a bunch of Asgardians have been crashing at Avengers Mansion. But the Avengers are used to godly types crashing on their couch and eating all their grapes.

Also, also, Black Panther (the Leopard for a very short time prior) is here to visit. Its not so flattering that Daredevil was his first stop but whatever. At least he’s taking time off from his important kinging to come by.

And Scarlet Witch’s constant vigilance and probable burgeoning caffeine addiction pays off. She caught a Chilean newscast about strange men kidnapping scientists and hey maybe Quicksilver was kidnapped?? MAYBE THIS IS ABOUT HIM???

More contrived coincidences happen to the Avengers constantly so might as well check it out.

And this time, the Avengers get a guest star! Lady Sif, one of the Asgardian house crashers and Thor’s maybe girlfriend, decides to join the party.

So the Avengers blast off to Tierra del Fuego in their newest Quinjet. It looks significantly pinker when its landed so I guess its red color is just ridiculous air friction.

The Avengers speak to the university expedition that the scientists were kidnapped from and they point the heroes to a sealed up cave.

Hawkeye and Iron Man open up the cave (Hawkeye almost kills them all with a landslide) and they treck through the cave and geez. Okay so the bulk of this issue takes place in the Savage Land. The hidden tropical jungle hidden in Antarctica? But the cave was apparently in Chile (it also doesn’t seem to appreciably dip under sea level so who knows what’s going on).

The Avengers walk through the cave and reach the Savage Land in a matter of four panels. Its hard to calculate but that’s at least several hundred miles.

They are impressive speed walkers.

But it still takes long enough that the Avengers have a short conversation with Black Panther about his preferred codename these days. See, Stan Lee was not aware of the Black Panther party when he and Kirby created the character. At some point prior to this issue, the character was renamed Black Leopard. That did not last because neither the readers nor the creators liked the new name.

In-universe, T’Challa didn’t want his personal goals and heritage conflated with someone else’s political party. But he eventually decided that it was dumb. It’d be like Scarlet Witch changing her name because witches are typically thought of as ugly.

Anyway, yeah. After a brisk walk, the Avengers are in the Savage Land. And they are only in the Savage Land for one panel before they’re attacked by some of the people from the cover.

The Savage Landers appear to be mentally controlled by someone so the Avengers hold back on fighting them and the fight is over shortly. But it goes on long enough for Lady Sif to get kidnapped by a dude and need to be saved.

So Thor makes some lightning which scares off the swamp-men, for swamp-men they apparently be.

So the Avengers and special guests continue into the Antarctican jungle, Black Panther leading the way. Because he’s besties with Ka-Zar and Ka-Zar told him about the X-Men’s battle with the Beast-Brood from X-Men #62-63.

Hm. So first the Sentinels and now this. Are the Avengers just cleaning up after the X-Men’s loose ends now?

Case in point, the Avengers run into the ruins of the village Magneto had built when he created the Beast-Brood.

T’Challa exposits that when Magneto died (or appeared to die or whatever) the Beast-Brood regressed back into swamp-men where under Magneto they were more human-like.

He also finds Angel’s discarded costume and Wanda speculates on whether something happened to the X-Men, since the Sentinels didn’t know where to find them.

Oh but then the Beast-Brood shows up and T’Challa helpfully introduces them all.

And then Thor gets a boulder to the noggin.

Equilibrius, with his vertigo gaze, squares off against Iron Man. And Iron Man clearly wasn’t paying attention to T’Challa’s introductions because he stands right in front of the dude bantering. And so he falls right over.

After closing the eye and mouth holes, circulating fresh oxygen, and keeping his eyes closed, Iron Man struggles back to his feet declaring he’ll keep fighting to the death.

Meanwhile, Hawkeye goes after Brainchild, WHO HAS THE LOGIC OF A MACHINE BUT THE EMOTIONS OF A CHILD.

Brainchild scampers away and tricks Hawkeye into causing a rubble slide and trapping himself.

But proving that his second greatest skill is being abrasive, Hawkeye insults the dude until he has a tantrum and passes out. We’ll call that a draw.

Meanwhile, Lady Sif gets a round two with Barbarus, a kinda strong dude with four arms. This time, Barbarus is surprised by Lady Sif’s strength as she holds him still so Thor can KPOW! the guy right in the face.

Meanwhile, Iron Man busts out the Iron Skates again. In perhaps his most thrilling fight, Iron Man just skates around Equilibrius to stay out of his eyeshot and relying on centripetal force to keep him from falling over.

And then he fails and falls over again. But this time he uses the momentum to lurch towards Equilibrius and punch him in the face.

Scarlet Witch faces off against Gaza, THE GIANT WHO SEES WITH HIS BRAIN. Wanda asks him why he’s bothering to fight when his allies have been getting spanked but Gaza just likes to win.

So he grabs her. That’s a bad touch so Scarlet Witch uses her hex power which somehow lets Gaza SEE WITH HIS EYES.

And suddenly seeing light and color is sufficiently distracting that Black Panther is able to sneak up on Gaza and SPOOM! him out.

Tragically? Wanda reports that giving Gaza sight was only a temporary effect.

Also, Vision tries to complain that T’Challa should have let him knock out the giant. Maybe he called dibs or maybe he felt he was owed because Gaza was menacing the woman he loves but won’t admit he loves.

But he doesn’t get the chance because Amphibius starts bounding around and kicking Vision in the face, trying to batter him unconscious. He expounds that he refuses to lose because it might mean regressing into a savage again.

Vision gets tired of the fight and goes intangible, allowing Amphibius to slam into the wall at full speed, knocking him out.

He does sympathize with Amphibius’ desire for humanity but not enough to allow him to defeat the Avengers.

And since it seems that all the enemies have been defeated, Black Panther and Iron Man go to free Hawkeye from where he’s pinned.

Unseen, Equilibrius skulks off. He wonders what the Beast-Brood’s regained humanity says about Magneto’s status. They regressed when Magneto died but now they’re restored.

Either way, its time to resort to desperate measures.

He summons Lorelei, whose siren song bewitches any man who faces her.

And her Ooooooooooooooooooooo song does seem to have put goofy dumb expressions on the male Avengers’ faces. At least those with visible faces.

With the men taken care of, Equilibrius can use his vertigo vision to take care of the two women. See, Avengers? This is why you need more women on the team. One of many reasons.

But Vision walks forward and intangibles his fist through Equilibrius and Lorelei, knocking them out.

And then he just keeps walking. Scarlet Witch chases after him asking why he’s acting so weird. Why he won’t say anything, won’t answer her.

And he finally turns around and answers. The fact that Lorelei’s song didn’t affect him proves that although he was built to look like a man, he cannot be affected by LOVE!

Or at least kinda-rapey mind control powers.

But he’s conflating them so he’s feeling some intense robo-angst right now.

So the Avengers rescue the three scientists in a caption box. Seems the Beast-Brood wanted the scientists to evolve more swamp-men to increase their group. The captured Beast-Brood were delivered to the Chilean authorities because the Savage Land doesn’t have a no-extradition anything. And neither hide nor hair is found of Quicksilver so this was naught but a red herring.

The Avengers return home to the Mansion. Jarvis is waiting for them because he taped a news story that might be interest to Wanda.

A man walking down Avenue C disappeared in full view of over twenty people. And again its vague enough that Wanda must check it out hoping that this is the one that will return her brother to her.

In the time it took her to watch the tape, Thor and Lady Sif have vanished to deal with stuff from the Thor book. And Cap is gone somewhere. So Wanda asks all the on-call Avengers and Black Panther to help her track down this new clue.

But Vision isn’t paying attention. He just sits brooding, ignoring Scarlet Witch as she begs him to pay attention.

Until she and the rest of the Avengers (Hawkeye, Iron Man, and Black Panther) just leave him to his brood. The Avengers have work to do.

The issue closes off on Vision slouched into an armchair, staring silently at the amulet Grim Reaper gave him.

And the next issue promises “A Traitor in Our Midst!” so the intended take away is that Vision is at last tempted by Grim Reaper’s offer. If his robot body cannot feel love or non-consensual terrible mind control, he could move his mind into the Wonder Man body which could feel the feelings he feels he should feel for Wanda.

Will Vision do it? Will he betray the Avengers to become a real boy? Probably not but lets see how this plays out.

So #105 was largely a filler issue with some leftover X-Men chumps that the Avengers pretty handily deal with. But its a largely filler issue that sets up something very important for the upcoming issues. And also the time that Vision got super moody over not being mind controlled. So a very important issue.

[gadgetgirl71]

Amazon First Reads May 2021

Did you chosen your Amazon First Reads book for May? I only got around to choosing my Amazon First Reads book a few days ago. So her were last months choices and you can find out which book I chose.

Suspense

The Secrets of Us by Lucinda Berry, Pages: 271, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: Dangerously addictive, The Secrets of Us is a pulse-pounding exploration of a disturbed psyche and the bond between two sisters desperate to escape a troubled past.

Foster sisters Krystal and Nichole have always been there for each other, so when Nichole is committed to a psychiatric hospital after trying to kill her husband, Krystal drops everything to defend her.

Scarred by a hard upbringing, Nichole and Krystal managed to construct comfortable lives for themselves. Krystal became a respected lawyer, and Nichole was happily married to an architect—until Nichole starts raving that her husband isn’t her husband, believing that he’s an imposter.

Driven by fierce loyalty, Krystal starts asking questions, but she’s not sure she can bear the answers. Her investigation leads to the sisters’ dark shared past…to a horrible tragedy and a well-guarded lie that cemented their sisterly bond.

But that lie can’t kill the truth—the battered, gasping, clawing truth that’s coming for them both. Now Krystal and Nichole must both fight for the lives they’ve built before they’re consumed by the one they left behind.

Historical Fiction

The Girls in the Attic by Marius Gabriel, Pages: 351, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: The bestselling author of The Designer presents a sweeping story of blind faith, family allegiance and how love makes one man question everything he thought he knew.

Max Wolff is a committed soldier of the Reich. So when he is sent home wounded, only to discover that his mother is sheltering two young Jewish women in their home, he is outraged.

His mother’s act of mercy is a gross betrayal of everything Max stands for. He has dedicated his life to Nazism, fighting to atone for the shame of his anti-Hitler father’s imprisonment. It’s his duty to turn the sisters over to the Gestapo. But he hesitates, and the longer Max fails to do his duty, the harder it becomes.

When Allied bombers fill the skies of Germany, Max is forced to abandon all dogma and face the brutality of war in order to defend precious lives. But what will it cost him?

Mystery

Beneath Devil’s Bridge by Loreth Ann White, Pages: 344, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: A true crime podcast yields new revelations about a shocking murder in a riveting novel of suspense by Washington Post and Amazon Charts bestselling author Loreth Anne White.

True crime podcaster Trinity Scott is chasing breakout success, and her brand-new serial may get her there. Her subject is Clayton Jay Pelley. More than two decades ago, the respected family man and guidance counsellor confessed to the brutal murder of teenage student Leena Rai. But why he killed her has always been a mystery.

In a series of exclusive interviews from prison, Clayton discloses to Trinity the truth about what happened that night beneath Devil’s Bridge. It’s not what anyone in the Pacific Northwest town of Twin Falls expects. Clayton says he didn’t do it. Was he lying then? Or now?

As her listeners increase and ratings skyrocket, Trinity is missing a key player in the story: Rachel Walczak, the retired detective who exposed Pelley’s twisted urges and put him behind bars. She’s not interested in playing Clayton’s game—until Trinity digs deeper and the podcast’s reverb widens. Then Rachel begins to question everything she thinks she knows about the past.

With each of Clayton’s teasing reveals, one thing is clear: he’s not the only one in Twin Falls with a secret.

Contemporary Fiction

These Tangled Vines by Julianne MacLean, Pages: 302, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: From the USA Today bestselling author of A Curve in the Road comes a sweeping and captivating tale of one woman’s journey to the lush vineyards of Tuscany—and into the mysteries of a tragic family secret.

If Fiona has learned anything in life, it’s how to keep a secret—even from the father who raised her. She is the only person who knows about her late mother’s affair in Tuscany thirty years earlier, and she intends to keep it that way…until a lawyer calls with shocking news: her biological father has died and left her an incredible inheritance—along with two half siblings.

Fiona travels to Italy, where the family is shocked to learn of her existence and desperate to contest her share of the will. While the mystery of her mother’s affair is slowly unravelled, Fiona must navigate through tricky family relationships and tense sibling rivalries. Fiona both fears and embraces her new destiny as she searches for the truth about the fateful summer her mother spent in Italy and the father she never knew.

Spilling over with the sumptuous flavours and romance of Tuscany, These Tangled Vines takes readers on a breath taking journey of love, secrets, sacrifice, courage—and most importantly, the true meaning of family.

Domestic Thriller

The Darkest Flower by Kristin Wright, Pages: 296, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: You’ll never believe the terrible things being said about the perfect president of the PTA.

Attempted murder? Inexplicable accident? Either way, a PTA mom struggled for her life in an elementary school cafeteria, poisoned by a wolfsbane-laced smoothie at the fifth-grade graduation party. Now all eyes are on the accused, the victim, and a woman hired to look deeper.

Ambitious defence attorney and single mother Allison Barton is anxious to escape the shadow of the low-down dog of a marquee partner carrying their renowned Virginia law firm. A win for her high-profile new client will give Allison the career she deserves. And PTA president Kira Grant certainly appears innocent—except for the toxic bloom in her backyard and perhaps a bit of a malicious streak. But no one said the innocent had to be likable—or entirely honest. Besides, with an image as carefully cultivated as her garden, Kira would be insane to risk everything on something as outrageous as the attempted murder of one of her closest friends.

What about those in Kira’s orbit, a sunny suburb of moms behaving badly? What do they really know about Kira? What does Kira know about them? For Allison, the answers are getting darker every day.

Family Drama

Like Wind Against Rock by Nancy Kim, Pages: 217, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: A novel of explosive family secrets, regret, and all the little decisions that shape our lives and make us who we are.

At the age of thirty-nine, Alice Chang suddenly finds herself living in the last place she expected: her mother’s house. But in the face of divorce, eviction, and the recent death of her father, she doesn’t have a choice.

Watching as her mother thrives in a new job and meets younger men at the local gym, Alice struggles, reflecting on her parents’ marriage, her relationship with each of them, as she adjusts to being single again for the first time in twenty years. Then she finds her father’s old journal…and uncovers a shocking family secret that forces her to question everything she thought she knew about love, regret, family, and her own path forward.

As Alice comes to terms with the man her father really was, she must finally decide who she wants to be and what it will take to get there.

Contemporary Romance

The Checklist by Addie Woolridge, Pages: 347, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: In an energetic debut novel about personal and professional chaos, author Addie Woolridge introduces a multicultural cast whose exploits are redefining the modern rom-com.

Killing it at work? Check. Gorgeous boyfriend? Check. Ambitions derailed by an insecure boss? Sigh—check.

Things were going a little too well for Dylan Delacroix. After upstaging her boss on a big account, she gets dispatched to the last place she wants to be: her hometown, Seattle. There, she must use her superstar corporate-consulting skills to curb the worst impulses of an impossibly eccentric tech CEO—if she doesn’t, she’s fired.

The fun doesn’t stop there: Dylan must also negotiate a ceasefire in the endless war between her bohemian parents and the straitlaced neighbours’. Adding to the chaos is a wilting relationship with her boyfriend and a blossoming attraction to the neighbours’ smoking-hot son.

Suddenly Dylan has a million checklists, each a mile long. As personal and professional pressures mount, she finds it harder and harder to stay on track. Having always relied on her ability to manage the world around her, Dylan’s going to need a new plan. She may be down, but she’s definitely not out.

Fantasy

Bacchanal by Veronica G Henry, Pages: 347, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: Evil lives in a traveling carnival roaming the Depression-era South. But the carnival’s newest act, a peculiar young woman with latent magical powers, may hold the key to defeating it. Her time has come.

Abandoned by her family, alone on the wrong side of the colour line with little to call her own, Eliza Meeks is coming to terms with what she does have. It’s a gift for communicating with animals. To some, she’s a magical tender. To others, a she-devil. To a talent prospector, she’s a crowd-drawing oddity. And the Bacchanal Carnival is Eliza’s ticket out of the swamp trap of Baton Rouge.

Among fortune-tellers, carnies, barkers, and folks even stranger than herself, Eliza finds a new home. But the Bacchanal is no ordinary carnival. An ancient demon has a home there too. She hides behind an iridescent disguise. She feeds on innocent souls. And she’s met her match in Eliza, who’s only beginning to understand the purpose of her own burgeoning powers.

Only then can Eliza save her friends, find her family, and fight the sway of a primordial demon preying upon the human world. Rolling across a consuming dust bowl landscape, Eliza may have found her destiny.

Memoir

The Puma Years by Laura Coleman, Pages: 298, Publication Date: 1 June 2021

Synopsis: In this rapturous memoir, writer and activist Laura Coleman shares the story of her liberating journey in the Amazon jungle, where she fell in love with a magnificent cat who changed her life.

Laura was in her early twenties and directionless when she quit her job to backpack in Bolivia. Fate landed her at a wildlife sanctuary on the edge of the Amazon jungle where she was assigned to a beautiful and complex puma named Wayra. Wide-eyed, inexperienced, and comically terrified, Laura made the scrappy, make-do camp her home. And in Wayra, she made a friend for life.

They weren’t alone, not with over a hundred quirky animals to care for, each lost and hurt in their own way: a pair of suicidal, bra-stealing monkeys, a frustrated parrot desperate to fly, and a pig with a wicked sense of humour. The humans too were cause for laughter and tears. There were animal whisperers, committed staff, wildly devoted volunteers, handsome heartbreakers, and a machete-wielding prom queen who carried Laura through. Most of all, there was the jungle—lyrical and alive—and there was Wayra, who would ultimately teach Laura so much about love, healing, and the person she was capable of becoming.

Set against a turbulent and poignant backdrop of deforestation, the illegal pet trade, and forest fires, The Puma Years explores what happens when two desperate creatures in need of rescue find one another.

So my choice for May was: The Girls in the Attic.

[swipestream]

Science Fiction New Release Roundup: 9 December 2017

This week’s roundup of the newest titles in science fiction features a murder mystery on a generations ship, captured space princesses, a reformed thug battling aliens in the back alleys of a dying world, and the return to publication of the eighth volume of the classic anthology There Will Be War.

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The Black Flag (Crimson Worlds Successors #3) – Jay Allan

The Triumvirate. Three clones of Gavin Stark who survived their evil master’s destruction. Now they have cheated death again, downloading their minds into an alien intelligence, a relic of the First Imperium. For three decades they have worked, silently, diligently, preparing their forces for the day that would launch the final assault.

Erik Cain, the legendary hero of the Marines Corps, the man who killed the real Stark. For years he was a prisoner of the triumvirate’s minions, held in brutal captivity on a dark world. Now he is free, battered by his long nightmare but never bowed, ready for the final struggle.

Darius Cain, Erik’s son, dread warrior and commander of the feared Black Eagles, the greatest of the mercenary Companies. Darius and his forces freed Erik Cain, and together with his father and his long-estranged twin brother, he is ready to rally the free forces of human space.

From the barren ruins of shattered Earth to the farthest reaches of human habitation in the galaxy, the final battle has begun. The Cains and their comrades are outnumbered, but the blood of warriors flows in their veins, and they will never stop, no matter what the cost…not until the battle is won.

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Capital Starship (Ixan Legacy #1) – Scott Bartlett

The Galaxy’s Doomed Without Him

The Ixa smashed the galaxy to bits before they were defeated. Captain Husher has sounded the alarm in the decades since: the Ixa’s creators will return to finish the job.

But unlike Husher, the galactic government didn’t battle the Ixa, and the politicians have convinced themselves that maintaining peace means limiting the ability to wage war.

Now, the enemy has returned, with high-tech weapons that prove they haven’t limited their own combat capabilities in the slightest. If Captain Husher and his beleaguered supercarrier crew can’t manage to stop the invaders, they will happily devour the galaxy whole.

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Forgotten (The Forgotten #1) – M.R. Forbes

Sheriff Hayden Duke was born on the Pilgrim, and he expects to die on the Pilgrim, like his father, and his father before him.

That’s the way things are on a generation starship centuries from home. He’s never questioned it. Never thought about it. And why bother? Access points to the ship’s controls are sealed, the systems that guide her automated and out of reach. It isn’t perfect, but he has all he needs to be content.

Until a malfunction forces his Engineer wife to the edge of the habitable zone to inspect the damage.

Until she contacts him, breathless and terrified, to tell him she found a body, and it doesn’t belong to anyone on board.

Until he arrives at the scene and discovers both his wife and the body are gone.

The only clue? A bloody handprint beneath a hatch that hasn’t opened in hundreds of years.

Until now.

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Grey Cat Blues – J. D. Cowan

Siege on the Shadow Planet!

Ex-punk Two Tone is left for dead and his friend is taken. His assailants: men of mud from some place darker than Hell!

The inscrutable Sarpedon has slithered from the depths to rule a planet that has long abandoned hope for a better tomorrow. With no one to stop his spree of violence, it is only a matter of time before Two Tone’s world is overrun.

Old friends and a mysterious beauty gather by his side, but are they enough? Is it too late for this dying world? If all cats are grey in the dark, will anyone see the panther stalking its prey? Two Tone will find the answers the best way he knows how—through his fists!

Grey Cat Blues tells the tale of a distant planet at humanity’s end. In this place, a man must choose between love and hate. And where his choice leads him might not be where he expects . .

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A Looming Shadow (Galaxy Ascendant #2) – Yakov Merkin

The war is over, but true peace remains elusive.

It’s been six months since the High Lord’s destruction at the Battle of Dorandor, and the Galactic Alliance is at peace—nominally, at least. While the Tyrannodons have become members of the Alliance, and their wartime allies readmitted, the anger and resentment against them has only somewhat subsided, despite efforts by High Executor Darkclaw to make his people into a true part of the Alliance.

First Scion Dalcon Oresh, hailed as the hero of the war, is focused on tracking down the fallen Scions, led by his former mentor, who have not been seen in some time—along with a number of Tyrannodons who remain loyal to the destroyed High Lord.

When Dalcon finally locates his quarry, he, as well as Darkclaw and Grand Admiral Nayasar, who had been looking forward to peacetime for an opportunity to start a family, are drawn into the hunt. More troublesome, the world to which they tracked the fallen Scions lies outside of Alliance space, in the territory of the mysterious Revittan Empire—who consider any intrusion into their space an act of war.

While Dalcon, Darkclaw, and Nayasar struggle to track down their enemies in a situation that they increasingly realize they had not properly prepared for, trouble is brewing outside, and their direct subordinates, Executor Keeneye and Admiral Felivas, have to make decisions that could threaten the hard-won peace that they have only recently managed to achieve.

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The Recognition Rejection (Recognition #2) – Henry Vogel

After beating almost insurmountable odds, Jeanine has laid claim to her birthright: the largest duchy in the Star Kingdom. As Jeanine’s sworn enemy, Princess Olivia, distances the royal family from direct confrontation with the new Duchess, a new enemy arises. When Jeanine and Olivia are both kidnapped, their husbands — Drake and Prince William — must bury the hatchet and work together to rescue the women they love.

The Recognition Rejection continues the star-spanning saga of royalty and revenge that began in Vogel’s award-nominated novel, The Recognition Run, with the same flair for exciting story-telling fans of Vogel’s previous best-selling space operas have come to know and love.

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Star Warrior – Isaac Hooke

In a galaxy where the fabric of reality can be bent and shaped by a privileged few, and almost any skill desired is a mere injection away, one young man is thrust into the fight of his life.

Tane, a hydroponics farmer with some mad cereal crop gene-splicing skills, decides to get chipped. The operation gives him full control over his autonomic nervous and endocrine systems, plus the ability to install custom memories.

All seems well until a couple of days later aliens come knocking at his door. And they aren’t the friendly type.

Soon Tane finds himself on a frenzied flight across the galaxy with a woman who can warp the very fabric of spacetime, her bodyguard–who’d just as soon kill Tane than protect him–and a starship that calls him snarky pet names. He’s on the run not simply from the aliens but the whole damn human space navy.

He only wished he knew why.

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Terra Nova (Terra Nova Chronicles #1) – Richard Fox and Josh Hayes

Terra Nova. The promised world is humanity’s new home, safe from the threats of a dangerous galaxy, where veterans of a long war could live in peace. The promise was a lie.

Chief Katherine “Kit” Carson, of the elite Pathfinder Corps, joins the mission as a last-minute replacement, hoping to put a spotty past behind her and build a new life on a brave new world.

The expedition arrives on Terra Nova, expecting to join the first wave of colonists, instead they find abandoned cities and are soon faced with a new, terrifying enemy humanity has never encountered before.

For the colony to survive, Carson must unravel the mystery of her new home and learn the fate of the first mission to settle the planet…

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There Will Be War Volume VIII – Edited by Jerry Pournelle and John F. Carr

Created by the bestselling SF novelist Jerry Pournelle, THERE WILL BE WAR is a landmark science fiction anthology series that combines top-notch military science fiction with factual essays by various generals and military experts on everything from High Frontier and the Strategic Defense Initiative to the aftermath of the Vietnam War. It features some of the greatest military science fiction ever published, such Orson Scott Card’s “Ender’s Game” in Volume I and Joel Rosenberg’s “Cincinnatus” in Volume II. Many science fiction greats were featured in the original nine-volume series, which ran from 1982 to 1990, including Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clarke, Philip K. Dick, Gordon Dickson, Poul Anderson, John Brunner, Gregory Benford, Robert Silverberg, Harry Turtledove, and Ben Bova.

33 years later, Castalia House has teamed up with Dr. Pournelle to make this classic science fiction series available to the public again. THERE WILL BE WAR is a treasure trove of science fiction and history that will educate and amaze new readers while reminding old ones how much the world has changed over the last three decades. Most of the stories, like war itself, remain entirely relevant today.

THERE WILL BE WAR Volume VIII is edited by Jerry Pournelle and John F. Carr, and features 21 stories, articles, and poems. Of particular note are “Surviving Armageddon” by Jerry Pournelle, the brilliantly inventive “Dinosaurs” by Geoffrey A. Landis, “As It Was In the Beginning” by Edward P. Hughes, and the haunting “Through Road No Whither” by Greg Bear.

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Who Takes No Risk (The Frontiers Saga: Rogue Castes #7) – Ryk Brown

Old allies go dark… New worlds join the fight… A rescue from an enemy held world… A lone operative with a dangerous plan…

The Karuzari finally have the support of an industrialized system, but they need time to build their forces. Unfortunately, time is the one thing they may not have.

Captain Scott now faces a difficult decision: To risk it all on a single roll-of-the-dice, or to turn his back on an old friend, and a plan that could buy them the time they so desperately need?

Science Fiction New Release Roundup: 9 December 2017 published first on http://ift.tt/2zdiasi