#but depending on utility that might change. she's doing wonders so far though

[cursezoroark]

chapter 1! (and partially chapter 2?)

(First picture is a redraw from chapter 2's visual piece which is drawn by zumi honnojis! will be below Read More!)

[deepspacedukat]

The Baker's Baker - Part One

So, this is the fic I made the poll about. 75% of you said you were at least open to other David Birney characters depending on the character, so here it is. I honestly have no excuse. David Birney played a hot character in "Murder, She Wrote" and I have caught the brainrot. Spoilers for S10E3 "The Legacy of Borbey House." I know I changed part of the story, but it doesn't stray too far from the original, hence the spoiler warning. I'm not tagging anyone for this fic, because, even though some Letant Enjoyers might like this, I don't think anyone came to my blog for MSW fanfiction lol. To those who choose to give this little brainworm a read, I hope you enjoy.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader

[A/N: Future chapters will contain smut/smut adjacent content, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mild rudeness, flirtation, mention of a missing person per the episode plot, vampire rumors, utilizing cupcakes for flirtation, readers owns and works in a bakery, reader has history with Borbey House but that'll be expounded upon in a later chapter.

~*~

Cabot Cove was rife with rumors surrounding the property across the street from my front door. Borbey House had stood empty for a year and a half - some residents wondered if anyone would ever buy the place until a couple of weeks ago. I only caught a glimpse of my new neighbor as I was getting home one night. Dark hair, a darker suit, and the jaunty strut of a man who was utterly confident in himself - whoever he was, the new owner of the Borbey Estate was much flashier than the usual Cabot Cove crowd.

I only saw him once, though, along with a couple of curtain twitches from one of the upper windows. Any other time a person emerged from the house, it was without fail a harsh looking man with a square jaw. He and his employer both seemed rather ominous to anyone who believed in superstition, and the Borbey legacy was already saturated with those. All the mysterious deaths years ago...it was a wonder that anyone was interested in buying the place when it went on the market.

Legend had it that the original owner, William Borbey, had been a vampire, and given the new owner's tendency to avoid going out in the daylight coupled with how quickly gossip of any sort traveled through Cabot Cove, rumors about his condition spread rather rapidly. I couldn't really blame the man for not wanting to immerse himself in the insanity that was a small town like this. I had hoped I'd catch another glimpse of him eventually, but after that first sighting, all I saw was his - was the man with a square jaw a butler or a chauffeur? Both, perhaps?

This morning, however, my luck changed - for better or worse, I couldn't definitively say. It wasn't often that our postman switched mail around, but today I'd opened my mailbox to find a letter addressed to one 'Mr. Lawrence Baker.' Glancing at the address confirmed my suspicions: this belonged across the street.

With barely a moment's thought, I hurried back into my house and dropped off my own mail, scooping up a box of assorted cookies I'd packaged in advance for the bakery in the process. There were plenty more where that came from, so I figured it couldn't hurt to give Cabot Cove's newest resident a warm welcome.

Straightening myself up a bit, I grabbed the misdelivered letter and the box of cookies and walked across the street. Before I even got the chance to knock on the door, however, it was practically flung open. Mr. Baker's butler scowled silently, expectantly down at me with cold, hard eyes.

"Uh, hi! I–"

"Do you have an appointment?" His question was clipped and rough. Was that a German accent? Interesting.

"No, but–"

"Then begone." With that, the door was slammed in my face.

Oh, hell no. Tall and scary that man might be, but I wasn't about to just let someone treat me like that.

I was secretly quite proud of the firm, confident sound of my knuckles rapping on the aged wooden door. Once more, it was thrown open, but before Mr. Scary got the chance to do something more drastic than slamming the door in my face, I held up the letter so he could see the typeface on the envelope.

"This was delivered to me by mistake this morning. I was just coming over here to give it to its proper owner." After a tense moment of silence, the letter was snatched from my hand. "And these are from me. I run the bakery on Main Street and I wanted to officially welcome Mr. Baker to the neighborhood."

Shoving the box into the stunned butler's grasp, I turned on my heel and started back to my house, standing as straight as possible to cling to my remaining dignity. Well, that had been slightly more humiliating than I'd expected. So much for being neighborly–

"Excuse me, miss?" A smooth, sophisticated voice called out from behind me before I was more than a few feet down the front walkway. Looking back, I saw a familiar dark-haired figure stepping around the gruff-mannered butler to stand in the doorway. Red-lensed sunglasses rested atop the bridge of his nose, but it was still undeniably the same man I'd seen that first night. Lawrence Baker, in the flesh. Up close, he looked...well, extremely handsome. "I'm sorry for the rough reception. Peter is used to dealing with less pleasant visitors. I'm afraid most people don't like an outsider invading your peaceful community."

Taking a few small steps toward the door, I gave my elusive new neighbor a tentative smile and attempted to ignore the way his pale blue button-down shirt clung to his figure so perfectly.

"It's alright, but I promise not all of us are quite so prickly. I'm sorry if you've been on the receiving end of any sort of intolerance," I said, and he leaned jauntily on the door frame as a grin stretched his lips. The lines on either side of his mouth spoke of the many smiles he'd worn over the years. "Anyway, I should really let you get back to your day. I just wanted to officially welcome you to the neighborhood. If you need anything, I live just across the street."

"I'll be sure and keep that in mind, Miss...?"

I introduced myself, keeping a respectable distance between myself and the front door. The longer I looked at Mr. Baker, the more I wanted to do something ridiculous, like take up sketching just so I could capture the shape of his lips when he smiled.

"I couldn't help but hear what you said a moment ago. You run the local bakery?"

"Yes, I do. If there's something you'd like that I don't normally offer, I take custom orders." My brain went somewhere it definitely shouldn't have, and I fought to keep myself from blushing.

Instead, though, I had some restraint. Excusing myself, I retreated quickly back to my own home. I took a seat in the kitchen and glanced at the timer I'd set for the cake in the oven. There was still a while until I needed to check it.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting at my kitchen table lost in thought when a knock sounded at the door, jolting me back to reality. A brief flash of fear zipped through me at the prospect of Mr. Baker or his butler - somehow the name 'Peter' didn't fully encompass that man's personality - coming to throw my cookies back in my face and threaten legal action if I ever set foot on their side of the street again.

"Why, you look as pale as a ghost, child!" Seth exclaimed when I opened the door. I'd almost forgotten that he and Jessica were coming over for lunch today. Inviting them in gratefully, I stole a quick glance across the street and was just in time to see a curtain twitch in one of the upper windows of the Borbey House.

There was nothing I could do but close the door as if to block out the storm that was my neighbor's red-tinted gaze.

"Are you alright?" Jessica's hand rested gently on my shoulder, and I gave her a grateful smile.

"Oh, yes! I'm fine. I just had a very odd encounter with the new owner of the Borbey place," I told her as we all made our way into the kitchen. A couple of hours passed, and with lunch consumed and my new cake recipe freshly sampled by the three of us, I'd heard several bits of gossip about Mr. Baker and his butler.

"You say he had red lenses in his glasses?" Seth asked as he cut himself another slice of cake. When I nodded my head, he hummed thoughtfully. "Those have a few uses medicinally, dependin' on the shade. He could be sensitive to light. Until he comes into my office, though, I'm afraid that's all I can say."

With a wry smile, Mrs. Fletcher leaned back in her seat.

"I doubt that will do anything to dispel those ridiculous vampire stories that have been making the rounds, lately." She was right, of course. "Be careful, dear, you might find him knocking on your door one night in search of something more than just cookies."

A laugh bubbled out of me, and I felt suddenly better than I had all morning. Trust Jessica and Seth to know how to lift my spirits.

"I'll be sure to wear a garlic necklace and keep a stake handy," I joked. Allowing my smile to fall in favor of something more serious, I switched topics. "Any news about...?"

Jessica and Seth glanced at each other and shook their heads.

"You'd be one of the first to know. The last tip-off the Sheriff had was a dud. Lady was in her fifties. Definitely not Laurel Perrin," Seth murmured setting his fork down. Had he already eaten his second piece of cake? Mentally, I marked that recipe down as a success. I'd have to make one or two for the bakery this week to see how people reacted to it. "I...I know you were her friend, and I don't mean to sound disheartenin', but the chances of Laurel turnin' up after all this time..."

The doctor laid his hand over mine where it rested on the table, and I looked pointedly down at the wood grain beside my fingers.

"I know, Doc. I just...I can't give up hope. Neither can Dave or Charlie. Not until we know for sure, one way or the other. You can understand that, right?"

"Of course, we can. Closure is a somewhat universal longing, especially for those closely involved in situations like this," Jessica murmured wrapping her arm around my shoulders in a reassuring hug. "Now, why don't you tell us how the new space for the bakery is working out?"

Never had I been more grateful for a change of subject.

--

Six days later, I was in the middle of serving who I thought would be my last customer of the night when the bell over the bakery door jingled.

"I'll be with you in just a moment," I called over my shoulder as I boxed up a dozen brownies.

"No problem, take your time." I blinked a couple of times as I finished up. I knew that voice. Forcing myself to stay focused on my current task, I served my regular customer and handed him his change.

"Thanks, Jim. Have a safe drive home, okay?"

"'Course, ma'am, and I'll be sure and tell the wife you asked after her," he said tipping his hat as he turned to leave. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as I turned to the new arrival.

"How can I help you tonight, Mr. Baker?" The man in question was clad in a crisp, black suit that was probably worth more than my entire inventory, but the smile on his face softened his visage into something more personable.

And his eyes! I hadn't been able to see them properly when they were hidden behind his tinted glasses, but they were the clearest blue I'd ever seen.

"Would you prefer the socially acceptable answer, or the truth?"

Oh, color me intrigued! Clasping my hands and resting them on the counter, I narrowed my eyes at him playfully.

"Hm. Let's have the truth first, then the respectable excuse," I murmured, and he stepped up to the counter, tracing his fingertips over the refrigerated cases as he moved closer.

"Alright. I was fascinated by you the moment I saw you walking up the drive. The way you handled Peter's abrupt dismissal made me realize I'd made a mistake in avoiding contact with my neighbors," he said leaning one forearm on the counter. "I wanted a chance to see you again...to talk to you longer than just a few seconds, and this seemed like my best bet. In my defense, I had no idea that I'd have such a gorgeous neighbor."

I forced the muscles in my face to remain neutral. No smiling, not yet. I had to be casual. If I let myself smile now, I might explode.

"And the respectable excuse?"

"Ah, that. Well, I heard about the special you were having on cupcake orders and thought I'd come take advantage of the discount," Mr. Baker said with a smile, and I bit my lower lip to stifle a laugh. "What?"

Crooking my finger at him, I coaxed him into leaning close enough to whisper in his ear, trying to add to his anticipation.

"The special is on brownies today, not cupcakes."

A warm, velvety laugh spilled from his lips as he leaned back again.

"Oh, damn, there goes my airtight alibi," he mused when his eyes met mine once more. "I guess that blows my chances of you accepting my invitation to dinner..."

I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Dinner?"

"Yes, but I doubt you'd be interested in socializing with a man who can't even get his excuses in order beforehand," he teased. Giving me a shrug and turning to a cloche-covered tray of brightly-iced cupcakes, he pretended to study them as I forced my brain into gear.

"...What day did you have in mind?"

The wide grin he gave me lit up the whole shop.

"How about tomorrow night? From what I understand, your shop is closed on Sundays, isn't it?"

"That's right. Sure, why not? Tomorrow sounds great," I answered lifting the cloche off the cupcake tray. "In the meantime, if we're going to sell that poorly-constructed cupcake excuse, you can't leave here empty-handed."

"Ah, thank you. We wouldn't want the rest of the town to think you were in danger from a reclusive vampire," he muttered with a gleam in his eye as I boxed up an assorted half dozen cupcakes. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing at all. These are on the house."

His eyes went wide, and he placed one of his large hands gently on my arm.

"I didn't come here to swindle you out of your merchandise. I don't want you to think I can't afford a few baked goods."

"This has nothing to do with your ability to pay, Mr. Baker. Haven't you ever had someone do something nice for you before, just because they could?"

Something like comprehension flickered across his face.

"Not...in a very long time, no," he said just above a whisper, looking at me as though I'd transformed right before his eyes. Placing one of my hands over his where it still rested on my arm, I spoke just as quietly.

"Then it's about time someone did." A moment's weighted silence passed between us before I got back to the cupcakes, closing the box and sealing it with one of my labels. "There you are. And if you really want to do something to repay me, tell me this: what's your favorite dessert?"

He was silent for a moment while he considered his answer, but ultimately he shook his head.

"I'll have to think that over. It's serious business deciding something like this," Lawrence said with a faux stern expression plastered on his face.

"Oh, naturally. You can tell me over dinner, assuming you've selected by then," I said with an equally stern expression, but when a bright smile broke across Mr. Baker's lips, I cracked and let out a quick laugh.

"I look forward to your charming company tomorrow night, my dear," he said, and without a moment's hesitation, he caught one of my hands in his grasp and brought it to his lips. My heart fluttered in my chest, the traitorous bastard, and before I knew it, Mr. Baker had taken his box of cupcakes and left.

Resisting the urge to squeal or smile so hard that my face broke, I went to the door and flipped the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed.'

When I got home that night and exited my car, I glanced across the street. Instead of the usual twitching curtain, I was just in time to see both Peter and Mr. Baker in the latter's sitting room, nibbling on what were unmistakably a pair of my cupcakes.

If I'd been any happier, I might have floated away like a balloon.

--

"You're having dinner with the man? But neither you nor anyone else in town knows him very well," Doc Hazlitt protested the next morning as I chatted with him over the phone. He'd called to ask what day that new cake would be added to the bakery's menu so he could give me some extra patronage. Once I assured him it would be a Tuesday addition, he moved on to a rumor he'd heard about Lawrence Baker kissing my hand during business hours and leaving my shop with a box of desserts. I hadn't disabused him of the notion, hence his current state of agitation.

"Doc, I am perfectly capable of handling a simple dinner. I'm not a little girl anymore," I said, and a sigh crackled down the line.

"I know, I know, but I don't want you to get hurt. I was the doc in the ward when you were born, and I've known you all your life. Is it any wonder that I feel a little nervous about you gettin' involved with a man who's only been in Cabot Cove for a handful of weeks?"

"Y'know, that's another thing, Seth," I started as I cradled the phone to my shoulder and slipped a tray of scones into the oven. "People around here act as though every new arrival or outsider is here to pillage the town. Why can't someone move in and be given the benefit of the doubt for once? Mr. Baker is perfectly friendly–"

"–And rich, to boot, meanin' he is used to gettin' exactly what he wants–"

"That's enough, Doctor. You haven't even met the man. You have no right to judge him until you've at least tried to get to know him." I didn't even try to keep the reproachful edge out of my voice. "Please, at least try to be open minded. If not for his sake, then for mine."

"I'd still be grateful if you gave me a call tomorrow morning so that I know you survived the ordeal," he requested, and after a quick agreement, he finally let me go.

Seth was right to an extent. I barely knew him, and Borbey house, despite my personal history, was still surrounded by gruesome stories and the ghosts of its past. It wouldn't hurt to be a little cautious.

Although, a benefit of spending time across the street was that I'd have a chance to change that surly butler's opinion of me. That was something I definitely needed to do, especially if I was going to be acquainted with his employer. Maybe with the right dessert, I could lower his defenses enough to show him I wasn't just a pest to be swept out onto the street.

~*~*~

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 5.7k of the unsinkable 8 during the zombie apocalypse. good for fans of leatin and goodfoe. it’s super unedited and i’m mainly just posting it for fun cause i finished it today. some references to world war z the book for fun, and i used the zombies from that too.

A flash of blonde and Dot’s gun went up, pointed directly at the head of whatever made their way toward her. She had two bullets left, six cigarettes, and the last mini of hard liquor she raided from the motel back in Aquilla.

She’d have to get it in one shot, which would be hard sitting down, with her back to it, half delirious.

She grunted as she pulled herself around, her leg still out in the makeshift splint. The zed crept closer, not going at the usual hobbling pace. It definitely had caught her scent though, maybe it was down a few limbs already.

She cocked her gun, flicking off the safety, keeping her finger off the trigger. She’d wait until she could see the whites of its eyes. Get it in one shot.

The blonde head crept closer and she finally tucked her gun over the rocks, making eye contact with it for the first time.

“Shelby Goodkind?”

“Dot Campbell?”

Shelby stared at her, lowering her own gun and Dot let out a breath of relief.

“Dottie, oh my god, I thought you were one of ‘em.” She put away her gun, Dot doing the same and she ran over. “It’s so good to see ya, what’s wrong?” She looked at the leg, her face paling.

“Ankles broken,” Dottie muttered. “Was gonna treat myself to one last drink,” she gestured at the bottle.

“Oh lord,” Shelby said. “Well that’s no good, I got a place not to far from here I’ve been camping out in. Some first aid stuff too.”

“I can’t give you anything back for it,” Dot said.

“We both know two people are more likely to make it,” Shelby said.

She looked sunburned and hollowed out, a little hungrier than the last time Dot saw her, headed with her family to that military base. She was alone, and desperate, everyone was. Because here was how it went in Texas. You could trust a stranger as far as you could throw ‘em, but you needed people to live. So if you had people, you lived. And Dot was people, or as close to people as Shelby was willing to get. She musta lost a lot to lower her standards so far.

“Alright,” Dot said. “We’re gonna have to go slow and you’re gonna have to carry a lot of shit.”

“No problem,” Shelby beamed.

Back at the camp, an old rusting trailer with some battery Shelby told her she was saving for a rainy day, Shelby re-splinted her, fed and watered her, and they pooled their resources. Twenty-six cigs now, which might get ‘em a few hours in a safe car north, if they wanted it. Or it might get ‘em some food, or a get out of jail free card, depending on the hunger of the people hunting ‘em.

It was late at night when Dot realized she hadn’t even asked yet.

“Family’s gone then?”

“Yeah,” Shelby said. “You?”

“My dad died before this shit show,” Dot said.

“Lucky,” Shelby said. She took a swig from the mini, and passed it over to Dot. “What’s your plan?”

“I heard there was a safer spot near San Antonio,” Dot said. “Running water and shit.”

Shelby shook her head, “Gone, three weeks ago. Heard it on the radio.”

Dot nodded, “What about you?”

“Radio said Hawaii’s better,” Shelby said. “There’s an operation ferrying people there on the west coast. It’s a thousand cigs per person. But there’s work by the dock if you’re willing to do it.”

“Work for you?” Dot asked.

Shelby’s jaw tightened, “I’ll do what I have to do. Lord forgive me.”

Dot sighed, “Sounds like we go west then.”

They hung around in the trailer for three days, pushing the limits of what was safe, and stumbled on to a new place in the area at daybreak on the fourth day. Dot’s ankle wasn’t broken, with the inflatable cast Shelby had in a week or so she’d be something regarding useful, and as long as she didn’t push herself she’d be more than fine.

Spending time with Shelby Goodkind was another story. For one thing, despite the zombie apocalypse, complete destruction of their lives and modern society, the death of her family and everyone in their town, Shelby was still good and kind. She’d clutch at the cross around her neck every time they’d pass a body, and would never touch one, even the ones that were recent and obviously not stripped clean. It made Dot kinda mad, she found five cigs just walking, and she wondered how many Shelby passed off being squeamish.

But Shelby also wasn’t squeamish, wasn’t afraid to take down a zed with a kitchen knife, and with that same hand wipe the gore off Dot all gentle. She called her Dottie, gave her the last blanket, and always volunteered for the first shift so Dot could watch the sunrise. Dot hadn’t been cared for in a long while, hadn’t been around people in even longer. She decided she might love it.

But Shelby was a magnet, always had been, she talked about god’s light long enough that she got Dot believing it all fell on her. It wasn’t a real surprise when she showed up with a stray.

“What the fuck,” Dot said. “Did you kidnap a child?”

“I did not kidnap a child,” Shelby said, picking the girl up with some difficulty and lifting her onto the backseat of the broken down minivan they were holed up in.

“I sent you out to get sunscreen,” Dot said. “How did you come back with a child?”

“She’s our age,” Shelby said. “I think. And listen, I found her barricaded in a utility closet with a bad fever, I knew we had some tablets but I didn’t wanna leave her.”

“Like bite fever?” Dot asked. “We don’t have enough bullets to—”

“No,” Shelby shook her head, “Look,” she gently unwrapped a bandage around the girl’s arm, revealing a bad slice. “It’s infected. Not a bite. We’re okay.”

Dot sighed and nodded. The girl’d probably try and rob ‘em blind but if they watched her hands and got away fast enough they should be fine. They’d be fine.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Dot muttered. Shelby smiled, all sweet and gentle and bright and Dot rolled her eyes.

The girl took the tablets, they washed and changed the bandages, after about fourteen hours she blinked awake, unfortunately while Dot was on watch.

“Who—who are you?”

“Dot Campbell,” she said.

The girl stared at her.

“My friend saved your ass,” Dot said. “Shelby.”

“Um,” the girl inched back, “Why? Where am I?”

“We’re on the twenty-two, not from from the ten-eighty,” Dot told her. “You got a nasty infection there, got any cigs?”

“No, I don’t smoke.”

Dot blinked at her. “Alright then.”

“My friends will be looking for me,” the girl said. “I should get back to them.” She didn’t have an accent, Dot realized, not even a thin one like her own.

“Shelby found you around Mr. K’s, we can draw you a map if you’d like,” Dot said. “Where you from?”

“Austin,” the girl lied, badly.

“Alright then,” Dot said again. “Well we’ll draw you a map in the mornin and you can leave a day break. It ain’t far.”

“Thank you,” the girl said. “For helping me.”

“Shelby’s idea,” Dot said. Neither of ‘em slept the whole time, the girl smart enough to keep an eye out, and Dot’s whole job to watch out. She woke Shelby up when she was supposed to and easily muddled into a slumber.

A nice thing, about the zombie apocalypse, was Dot had gotten a lot better at sleeping. She used to stay up for hours thinking ‘bout how she’d pay the bills, how much her dad’s meds cost, whether he was coughing more that night than he did most nights, but now she hit whatever soft looking rock she decided to call a pillow and conked out until Shelby woke her. Shelby, on the other hand, barely slept a wink, shooting up at the slightest sign of trouble, even when Dot was on watch. Too much time on her own, Dot’d guess.

Before Shelby Mateo wandered with Dot. He was quiet and sweet and she had took care of him as best she could. Shelby didn’t have nobody before Dot. Just her dead parents, and if Dot remembered eighth grade soccer well enough, a couple of dead siblings too.

So Dot pretty much conked out and missed the way the girl and Shelby giggled all night. But even she wasn’t blind to their bond when she woke, the way the girls smiled easily at one another, laughed with each other, kept up with each other.

“Dottie,” Shelby said. “Martha,” so that was the stranger’s name “said you told her we could draw her a map but Mr. K’s ain’t far, we might as well take her.”

Dot grunted, she didn’t wanna waste a day but it wasn’t like Mr. K’s would take all day and they might as well see if they could find any more cigs. She hadn’t met any non-smokers in a long while. Apocalypse sorta took the fun out of being straight-edge, if Dot had to guess.

Dot took the back, a metal bat out and ready, and Shelby and Martha took the front. Shelby had a makeshift spear made, good for longer range, but worse up close, and she gave Martha the other bat they had. To borrow, Dot had emphasized.

One of the other things that never got old about the apocalypse, was walking up a highway. Walking straight up that middle line, knowing no one would dare drive a car ‘round there. It felt like the world was yours and empty, like you were finding it, rebuilding it, building it. It was as close to a cowboy as she had felt since her daddy let her ride on his back. It was as close to free as she had ever felt.

They got back to Mr. K’s and Dot saw the approaching figures first, aiming her rifle right at ‘em, safety off and gun cocked, but her finger off the trigger. It was Shelby’s hunting rifle, actually, but she had handed it to Dot first chance she had, looking kinda pale. She had Dot’s old handgun now, useless with this kinda range.

“Live ones?” Shelby asked.

“Can’t tell,” Dot said. “Just kinda standing there.”

“They could be waiting for me,” Martha said. Dot glanced at her, hoping the girl wasn’t actually as naive as she seemed. She probably was.

They walked as close as they dared, before Martha was able to confirm that yes it was her friends.

She ran at ‘em and one of ‘em collided with her, slamming her into a hug. There were two more, just kinda watching Dot and Shelby.

“We should go,” Dot said. “We did what we said.”

“Dottie,” Shelby said.

Dot sighed and the two of ‘em trudged up to the happy pair, reuniting like they had been separated for years, decades, instead of a few hours. It was a miracle they were reunited at all, Mateo said he’d meet her back at the camp in an hour and she had to bash his head in six months later with a sledge hammer.

“Who’re your friends, Martha?” One of the other people asked. It was four girls counting Martha, lucky, none of ‘em white, but they all looked around the same age as Dot and Shelby.

“This is Shelby,” Martha grinned, “And Dot.”

Dot nodded at them.

“I am just so pleased to make your acquaintance,” Shelby smiled, holding out her hand to the girl who still had an arm wrapped around Martha.

“This is Toni,” Martha said, squeezing the girl’s side when she didn’t take Shelby’s hand. “And Rachel and Nora.”

“Ah,” Shelby smiled, “Toni your sister right?”

Martha nodded, Toni glared. “Yeah it’s great to meet you or whatever. There a reason you kidnapped Martha?”

“I saw her passed out and worried she was alone,” Shelby explained. “I knew we had some tablets back at the camp but—”

“What do you want?” Rachel asked. “We got about six hundred if that’s—” Martha from Austin, Dot’s ass. Money hadn’t meant shit in Texas for awhile. These kids were from up north, probably pretty far up north too. Maine or some shit. Delaware.

“Got any cigs?” Dot asked.

“Yes,” Nora said. “We have a couple packs.”

“Great,” Dot held out her hands and two packs were dropped into them. Nora didn’t make eye contact the entire time, her hands fidgeting with anything. She was covered in scabs and scars, picking at her own skin probably.

“Where y’all headed?” Shelby asked.

“None of your business,” Toni said.

“Apparently the San Antonio Zone relocated to Tyler,” Martha said. “We heard some people talking about it last week.”

“Y’all got a radio?” Dot asked.

Martha shook her head.

“If you had one you’d know that that’s what they’re pulling now, telling people to go to Tyler, they shoot you as soon as you step foot in Athens.”

“So where are you guys headed?” Rachel demanded.

“West,” Shelby said. “Radio says they’re ferrying clean folks to Hawaii. It’s an island so.”

“Clean how?” Rachel asked, taking a step forward and lifting her jaw.

Dot sighed.

Shelby’s eyes widened, “Clean as in not infected, I mean.”

“Chill,” Rachel smiled, all thin, “I was kidding.”

“Great,” Dot said. “Not that this hasn’t been fun, but we should be going.”

“Wait,” Martha said. “It’s just, we might as well go west too. And we might as well go west together.”

“Marty,” Toni grabbed her by her uninjured arm, “I wanna talk to you for a moment.”

They got into a whispered argument for a few minutes. Rachel joined and it escalated but Martha came out on top, smiling as she approached them.

“We might as well go together,” she repeated.

Shelby’s smile was just as wide, “We would be alighted to have you.”

The new girls were a nightmare. Rachel and Nora, sisters as Dot would learn, hated one another. And by hated Dot meant, had a complicated relationship of love without trust or mutual respect. Nora didn’t trust Rachel, Rachel didn’t respect Nora, and they were constantly going at one another. Toni had some sorta toxic jealousy thing going on, despising Shelby because she was monopolizing Martha. She also tended to fly into these rages, making her wander off for long periods that had Dot itching to grab her gun and demanding the girl strip to check for bites. Mateo’s dad used to do the same thing, wander off to check his bite.

Shelby also was wholly focused on two things now: Martha, and Toni’s hate. Dot ambled along behind all of ‘em, keeping the sisters from killing each other, Toni’s voice down, and everyone else alive.

The worst part was it took Dot nearly three days before she caught sight of it.

“You have one hand,” Dot glared at Rachel. Rachel slung the pack over her shoulder.

“You’re just noticing that now?” Rachel asked. “I must be getting better with it.”

“The fuck happened?” Dot said.

“My hand got bit,” Rachel shrugged. “Cut it off before it spread, didn’t even know it would work.”

Dot whistled, low and quiet, like they were all used to being.

“I cut it off,” Nora corrected, sullenly.

Rachel rolled her eyes.

“I’m still quicker on the draw than you,” Rachel said, the words clunky in her mouth.

Dot set her jaw, “So y’all are sticking with the story that you’re from Austin?”

“We’re from New York,” Nora said. Rachel glared at her. “What? You think some group would waste three days on four teenage girls?”

“New York?” Dot asked. “Everyone knows it’s safer up north, why the hell are you down here?”

“You hear about Yonkers?” Rachel asked.

Dot shook her head.

“It was the last op the US military set up before they fell apart. We’d made it out by then but we watched it happen on the news. Someone in a group we had still had a phone and the whole thing was live streamed. All of the death. The group were supposed to go to some military bases up in Canada but we wanted a wide open space with plenty of guns.”

“Texas,” Dot said.

Rachel nodded.

“Stupid,” Dot told her. “You probably came for San Antonio too.”

Rachel sighed, “Nobody was gonna survive those Canadian winters without a base, and we weren’t sure we were gonna get one. Rather get bit than freeze.”

“How’d you meet Toni and Martha?” Dot asked.

“Toni and I got into a fistfight over some Takis,” Rachel said.

Dot nodded, “Fuego?”

“Fuego.”

And yeah they were a nightmare but quicker than Dot wanted they became her nightmare. Still though, she dragged Shelby away from Martha and Toni’s sides, and muttered, “we can still go. Ditch if you want. Whenever. We don’t know ‘em.”

Shelby, in high school, woulda been scandalized, muttered some bible passage at her. This Shelby was a little more grown and only looked at her all serious.

“You knew what I was when you picked me up,” she said. “And I knew what Martha was. We’ll face our consequences, I reckon.”

Dot nodded.

Walking all day, everyday, wasn’t easy stuff. Especially since they had to strip as many bodies as they could find. Nora figured it out pretty quick, mumbling something to Rachel who recruited Toni to storm over to Dot.

“You don’t smoke them, but you’re hoarding them,” Rachel said. “Why?”

Dot kept her easy pace. “These things are currency now, the value’ll only go up over time.”

“Currency for what?” Toni asked. “What are you trying to buy?”

“You think a ferry to Hawaii is free?” Dot asked. “I’m saving for all of us.”

“Dottie,” Shelby walked over, Martha sticking by Nora, “What’s up?”

“How much?” Toni asked. “Really, how much?”

“A hundred each,” Dot said, too quickly.

“Try again,” Rachel said.

“Dot,” Shelby got between them, looking at Dot. “Thou shalt not lie, right? Tell ‘em the truth.” Dot glared at her and Shelby turned back around to Rachel. “It’s five hundred each. We got about a hundred now, so no one’s going to Hawaii.”

“What if there aren’t enough?” Toni asked. “Who decides then?”

“We’ll draw straws,” Shelby said.

It was as easy a solution as anything but the tenseness started building up, Rachel and Toni viewing Dot with more suspicion. It’d fade, over time, Dot knew. Or they’d all die.

The worst it got, was actually Shelby’s doing, the easy peace maker of it all. They hadn’t bothered building a fire, despite how cold and exposed it got in Texas at night, but they huddled together between three cars they found abandoned along the highway that they pushed into a triangle. Someone got to the seat cushions of all three first, so there was nothing comfortable to lie their heads on. It was easy for Dot though, the asphalt as soft as anything to her now.

They stayed up later than they should’ve talking. Trading stories about their old life that all of them knew weren’t doing any good. Toni played basketball, was pretty good at it too. Rachel had a skill for swimming she’d never have again. Nora did quiz bowl, surprising no one. Dot talked about metal, fishing with her dad, what types of pills sold for what. Martha was a dancer, and a vegetarian once. It was something that made ‘em all crack up. When humans become man eating beasts, and once upon a time there were jokes online about vegans. Shelby talked about the yearbook, mission trips, Andrew.

But then cause Shelby started it by prattling on about Andrew Toni got it in her head to talk about Regan and Shelby was talking about Leviticus.

The next morning, Rachel quietly pulled Dot aside and told her to take all the cigarettes and head out. That they could make their own way west. Dot didn’t ask for an invitation to go with her.

They split off at the twenty-five, Dot and Shelby heading for the forty, Toni, Martha, Rachel, and Nora heading for the sixty.

Shelby was heartbroken for a few days, apologetic too, and grateful. Dot didn’t let her have any of that, only said, “It’s cause we’re from the same town. We might be the only ones from there left.”

They trudged on.

In Arizona Dot found the love of her life, her soulmate, Fatin Jadmani. In a completely straight way too. Fatin matched her tit for tat, spoke a language Dot hadn’t realized she’d been born knowing. Her girlfriend was an anxious woman named Leah, who Shelby got on with. Dot had worried, upon bringing the two back to camp, that Shelby would chase ‘em away again, but she hadn’t. Just smiled at the two of them, easily offering up a couple granola bars.

Whenever tenseness came about Fatin just laughed, and Leah rolled her eyes. It wasn’t perfect, Dot knew, there was too much hate for that, but it would last ‘em long enough. The four of ‘em just worked in this great lovely way.

Only problem was their destination.

“We barely managed to get out of LA,” Leah mumbled, she hugged her legs, her head leaning on Fatin’s shoulder.

“LA?” Shelby asked. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“What the fuck?” Fatin glared at Dot, “Dorthy I thought you had more sense than that.”

“There’s some military guys ferrying people to Hawaii,” Dot said.

“Where’d you hear that, the radio?” Fatin asked. She sighed at their nods, “They’re broadcasting out to whoever will hear it, but there is no ferry to Hawaii. The entire thing is just selling and shipping as many girls out as possible. We have no idea where though.”

“So when you say you barely made it out,” Dot said.

Fatin’s face was grim.

“We have to warn ‘em,” Shelby said.

“Warn who?” Dot asked.

“Toni and the others! They don’t know!” Shelby stood up. “I’ll plot out the course now and we’ll start out fresh tomorrow. We aren’t leaving ‘em to—to—we aren’t leaving ‘em.” She stormed off and Dot watched her go.

“She wants to go towards LA to help some motherfuckers who kicked you out of their group?” Fatin asked.

“Yeah,” Dot said.

“Are you gonna go with her?” Leah asked.

“I knew what she was when I picked her up,” Dot said.

“What do you wanna do?” Leah asked Fatin.

Fatin pressed her cheek to Leah’s head, “I don’t know if I can risk you.” Fatin looked at Dot, “Are you gonna be stupid?”

“No,” Dot said.

“Then we’ll come,” Fatin sighed. “Leah that okay?” Leah nodded.

Neither of ‘em were as good at offing zed as Shelby and Dot. Fatin was decent at finding stuff though, scoping stuff, and Leah had endurance none of the rest of ‘em could match. She was like a zed sometimes, just kept going, could keep going, until her knees wore down to dust and then she’d crawl, crawl until her fingers wore down to nubs and then she’d inch, inch until something put her out of her misery. It terrified Fatin and Shelby, but Dot couldn’t help being impressed.

So Dot ambled after Shelby toward Bethlehem on the forty but they were gonna leap back on the interstate and hopefully head ‘em off. Hopefully Martha, Toni, Rachel, and Nora’d be alive, and they’d find ‘em. And if they didn’t find ‘em, hopefully they’d be dead. And Shelby stopped sleeping about a day or two into trek. Would just keep staring at the maps and keeping watch, and taking inventory and thumbing around her necklace.

When Dot woke up on the third day of their walk, Shelby’s hair was much shorter and Fatin looked real scared. Shelby kept walking and walking and, in a fit of rage that matched Toni’s, launched her necklace off the highway. She looked like she regretted it after but they had no choice but to keep going.

They passed an arm and it looked like Rachel’s.

Shelby walked faster. Leah had that glint in her eye. Fatin took Dot’s hand and looked very very scared.

After two more days Shelby said fuck it, and found a car with some gas in it and told 'em to get in.

Dot stood in front, “Shelby,” Shelby glared at her, “This’ll attract every body in the fucking country. The sound, the smell, I’m not just talking about the dead ones neither.”

Shelby swallowed hard, “You gonna stay behind then?”

“Shelby,” Dot said. “If you leave me here I’ll get caught up in the hoard. That what you want?”

“Get in the damn car, Dottie!” Shelby said.

“If we get to ‘em in time, but there’s a fucking hoard following us, we won’t have anywhere to go but on,” Dot said. “Fucking think!”

“I am thinking,” Shelby spat back. She shoved Dot, “I’m thinking about Toni, and Martha walking from Minnesota to Texas only to die in California. I’m thinking about Nora and Rachel watching Yonkers fall and then getting shipped off to who knows where. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Shelby we can make it,” Leah said.

“No we can’t!” Shelby said. “I’ve done the math, I keep looking at these maps, there’s no way we’ll make it in time without a mode of transportation. No car and they die.”

“Then what the fuck are we going there?” Dot asked. “If it’s too late—”

“It is not too late!” Shelby said, her throat was all closed and choked sounding. “I can save ‘em! Jesus fuckin Christ we have to help ‘em!”

“Shelby,” Dot said, she put a hand on her shoulder. “We can’t take a car, and we can’t make it by foot,” Shelby’s face crumpled. “They’re gone, alright? We should be planning our next move.”

“No,” Leah said. She shook her head, “We have to help them.”

“You don’t even know ‘em,” Dot said.

“I’m not letting four innocent girls go through what I nearly went through,” Leah said.

“I’m with Leah,” Fatin said. “We’ll take the car and play it by ear.”

“Play the-hoard-that-will-start-coming-after-us-the-second-we-turn-on-the-engine by ear?” Dot asked.

“Let’s vote,” Shelby said. “All in favor of going?”

Fatin, Leah, and Shelby all raised their hands.

“C’mon,” Dot begged. She looked at Fatin, “You told me not to be stupid!”

“So don’t be stupid,” Fatin said. “Get in the car.”

Dot sighed, wanted to punch something, wanted to cry, was too tired to do either, got in the car.

The car attracted so many fucking zed, they wouldn’t be able to stop, and they had to hope there was enough in the fucking tank to get them to wherever the four were. Dot watched the dead bodies creep closer, at their slow hobbling, relentless pace. Fatin drove, Shelby used her pike to spear any who got too close, Dot watched the maps and steadily got herself into a panic.

They were gonna die trying to save the asses of some girls they spent a couple days with.

This was not what Shelby was when Dot picked her up, this was not what she was. Shelby had gone behind Dot’s back and fucking grown as a person, hadn’t she? How the fuck was Dot gonna get away from her? She’d have to pack Fatin in a suitcase and then Leah too and that would mean entirely abandoning Shelby to be on her lonesome oh god.

Dot was stuck, wasn’t she.

As they kept driving Shelby had to keep spearing zed. It started off as one or two, but as the hours wore on they were leaning on five, six, a steady growing mass ambling behind ‘em.

If that had really been Rachel’s arm, they were probably dead. All of ‘em. Or maybe in the mass behind ‘em. And if they weren’t, they’d hear the car coming and head for the hills, assuming it meant a hoard was close behind. Which it was.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

“So what, we just wait for a sign to say welcome to LA and then give up? We won’t find ‘em like this,” Dot said.

“Shut up!” Shelby said, she speared another.

“At least check you ain’t offing one of ours,” Dot said. “They could all be zed, for all we know.”

“I said shut up,” Shelby turned to glare at her and a zed slammed against the door. She speared it and Dot’s mouth clamped shut. “We just gotta keep going,” she said. “We’ll be fine, we just gotta keep moving.”

“You’re crazy,” Dot said.

Shelby didn’t have anything to say to that.

It was worse at nightfall, with visibility down, and they just had to keep going, to hope their car wasn’t stripped when they went over the bumps of mutilated corpses still hungry for a last meal.

“We’re almost to LA,” Shelby said. “We got nearly a hundred cigs, we might be able to bribe someone if they jump us.”

Leah snorted.

They were driving through an empty enough part of Nevada though, less corpses hurling themselves off the road and towards them. Still the ever growing mass behind ‘em now, maybe fifty, seventy five, but about twenty out.

“I gotta piss,” Dot said.

“Hurry,” Fatin said.

Dot stumbled out, no one noticing her grabbing her pack. The zed would follow the car, she’d make a clean break. She’d survive.

She was only seven minutes south, judging by the north star Shelby taught her to find when someone’s hand grabbed her. She pulled out her hand gun, jamming it into the head and flicking the safety off.

“Dot! Jesus Christ!”

The girl was wide-eyed, tan, hollowed out, empty and desperate. Reminded her of the empty pill bottles around her house after her dad died.

“Toni?”

Toni nodded, “Why are you here? Fuck that I don’t give a shit, you got water?” Dot handed it to her and Toni downed it. “The other’s are close, c’mon.” She stumbled as she got up, clearly dizzy, and Dot grabbed her forearm.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you guys,” Dot said.

“Don’t tell me it’s you in the fucking car,” Toni said. “We’ve been running from that thing for ages.”

“I fucking told Shelby,” Dot said.

“Shelby?” Toni asked, she was almost too exhausted to sound disgusted, but she managed it.

“Listen, LA isn’t safe, we found out. They’re not taking kids to Hawaii, they’re taking them.”

Toni went pale, “Fuck.” She even sounded choked now. “Shelby’s having a fucking aneurysm worrying about you so I don’t even think she’s that fucking homophobic. I’ll get everyone back to the car, you tell ‘em I’m coming.”

Toni nodded, stumbling towards the street and Dot walked back to the direction Toni pointed to before she left. Rachel, Nora, and Martha were all in various points of disarray. Exhausted, dehydrated, starving, aching and bleeding. Dot had to half carry, half drag Nora with Martha and Rachel had to get a stick to lean on as they stumbled toward the street.

“We got like ten minutes,” Fatin said. “People are gonna have to double buckle, and before anyone else makes a decision, we’re going north.”

Dot strapped everyone in and found herself sitting next to Shelby who met her eyes in a hundred yard stare.

“You took your pack.”

“Yeah.”

“But you came back.”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

They started on again. Dot saw Toni keep sneaking glances at Shelby and Shelby kept sneaking ‘em back.

They weren’t far from Mt. Tobin when the two finally stopped dancing around each other.

Dot convinced everyone to ditch the car near LA, walking as quickly as they could once they did, knowing it’d take awhile to ditch the hoard too. Dot watched Toni talk to Shelby in low tones, Shelby full of apologies and panics and Toni keeping her cool longer than Dot had ever seen it.

Martha took to Fatin quickly, everyone did, and Nora and Leah spent long hours walking beside each other mumbling about books or something. Not anything Dot gave two shits about.

Rachel ambled along with Dot most of the time. Whenever Fatin and Leah were all over each other and Dot didn’t feel like third wheeling. Rachel was always listening to the radio and as time passed it became clear that the two of them were the most capable of keeping everyone alive. And not in a more knowledgable way. Because Nora knew what plants were edible, and Shelby was a better shot. Or in an emotional way, because Fatin and Martha handled that. But in a planning sorta way. Because Dot knew how to get them to point B, while Rachel was working on point E.

“We should go to Washington,” Rachel muttered on one of the late nights they spent keeping watch while they poured over maps. “We might be able to find a boat to Victoria.”

“Victoria?” Rachel pointed her out.

“It’s a Canadian island. Canada lasted a little longer than we did, Victoria might not be in such a bad way.”

“Less guns in Canada,” Dot said. “And there might not be a boat that’ll take us there. Plus, we don’t know the currency.”

“We’re eight teenage girls,” Rachel pointed out. “We stick around so close to Cali, we’re asking for trouble. We need to put an ocean between us and whatever the fuck they’re doing there.”

Dot sighed. So they’d go to Washington.

On the way they’d probably run into another group who’d tell them Washington was overrun but there was something decent in Wisconsin. Half way to Wisconsin someone would tell ‘em their information was bad and they need to get south where there were guns and space. They’d almost be in Georgia when someone would tell ‘em there was some real government up in New York again.

They’d follow pipe dream to pipe dream to pipe dream. They’d probably die young.

Toni curled around Shelby, holding Martha’s hand. Fatin and Leah held on for dear life. Rachel didn’t take her eyes off Nora. Dot watched them all.

Yeah they’d probably die young. Better than dying alone.

[cruelfeline]

Question im rewatching She Ra and ive got to the fall of Salineas and im wondering to myself: Why didn't the Horde do anything to their Runestone. As if the minimum that the Horde did was disabled/destroyed the runestone it would have affected the Alliance strength or the Horde could have tried to used it for any means. But nope they leave it alone allowing the Salineas Princess to continue to be poweful. So just wondering did they mention why they couldn't hack/destroy it?

They did not! They did not mention the runestone at all! And y’know, anon, this question has made me do some hard thinking on Hordak, and his abilities, and why he surrounded himself with the people he did, and so we’re in for a long, extrapolated answer that may or may not make sense. So strap in, and enjoy the knowledge that you have just made me talk way more about this than anyone wanted to hear!

I find Hordak to be an incredibly capable individual in terms of organization, enacting plans, utilizing established knowledge, and just... sheer determination. He decides upon a goal, and he is going to achieve that goal. It is going to happen. It may be a difficult road, and he may suffer horribly in his attempt, but he is going to defy the odds and strive doggedly forward and do everything in his power to make things work.

However, the actual methods and strategies he is capable of using appear limited. I’ve spoken about this before, specifically in terms of that time he used uninsulated cables in his experiments, and I’m going to talk about it again in broader terms. 

Essentially, the thing to consider is that Hordak, intelligent though he is, is not adept in the art of innovation. He is very capable of taking his own knowledge and utilizing it successfully, but he is not able to easily deviate from learned instructions. He has significant difficulty “thinking outside the box,” so to speak (likely due to being a clone who was never meant to think up new ideas and innovate and do anything meaningful on his own), and this comes into play in terms of how he wages his war, along with why his success in waging said war increases once Entrapta and Catra lend him their skills.

Technology-wise, Hordak spends decades on Etheria using and modifying his own technology without seeming to have any interest at all in the powerful First Ones’ tech waiting to be taken advantage of. And while I’ve wondered previously if maybe he thought it too old to be of any use, I now consider the notion that he is simply not adept at incorporating new ideas and techniques into his work. Again: as a clone, this would not be something he’d be expected or even encouraged to do. He would be expected and encouraged to follow orders, to enact instructions as he received them. Innovation would be a display of individual will, wouldn’t it? So, it follows that this is not a skill he would possess or even think to develop.

Enter Entrapta: all she does is innovate. Learning new things, incorporating them into her knowledge-base, trying new methods and building upon what she’s done before are very much a strong part of her character. She sees First Ones’ tech, and she immediately tries to figure out how to use it to improve upon existing technology. This is the advantage she brings to Hordak: whereas he finds it very difficult to deviate from his current methods and knowledge, she does not. And so, with her assistance, he is able to reach technological heights previously unattainable to him.

A more military version of this involves Catra.

Think about how the war has come to what is essentially a standstill by the time SPoP begins. It’s been... thirty years, or so? Since Hordak landed on Etheria. He has absurdly advanced tech, yet he cannot seem to successfully conquer more than the Fright Zone. Seems strange, doesn’t it? That he’s unable to utilize his superior resources to do more than harass some villages. Granted, the princesses have supernatural powers, but they’re unorganized at the series’ start. They’re not putting up a united front. So... what gives? Why is Hordak not more successful? And furthermore, why does this suddenly change when he allows Catra to take over the greater strategic planning of Horde activities?

Well, to my eyes, Hordak is with military strategy the way he is with tech: he is very capable of organizing things in a prescribed way, but he is unable to devise new plans outside of what he is used to. Think about where he came from: the Galactic Horde, yes? And what did the Galactic Horde have? Countless robots. Countless clones. All unfailingly obedient. A never-ending army ready to march in and conquer and occupy everything in its path.

Which is what Hordak tries to do, isn’t it? He appears set on systematically taking territory and holding it, very much balking at Catra’s strategy of consolidating forces in favor of a more grand attack on a single target. He is likely operating under a conquering strategy that depends upon having an entire Horde of clones and robots available to enact it (and, perhaps, a conquering strategy based on Prime’s refusal to appear imperfect via losing ground?). Without this sort of force, he struggles to make meaningful headway. And because of his lack of innovative ability, he finds it difficult to devise a new strategy to compensate for a situation that does not include a battle-ready Galactic Horde. 

Catra does not have this problem. Catra is very capable of thinking up new strategies as required, so she comes up with the idea to pull back from the northern perimeter and focus on Salineas, a plan that likely would have never occurred to Hordak. 

Now, back to anon’s question regarding the Salineas runestone (I didn’t forget!). The reason it doesn’t come up, via my logic, is that Catra does not know anything about runestones, and Hordak remains uncertain and unable to easily incorporate such things into his working tech. Entrapta innovated with First Ones’ tech, and he is only able to work with it by basing his methods upon her research (which is how he makes his arm cannon). He is still unable to innovate it entirely on his own, so between Catra’s complete lack of knowledge and his inability to freely experiment with new ideas on his own, the Salineas runestone remains unused. 

Had Entrapta still been with the Horde at this time, that runestone would have been properly assessed and handled, but she’s not. And it’s just not something Hordak can do on his own. 

So! The point of this post. The point of this post is to illustrate how Hordak managed to get as far as he did with limited resources and clone limitations on his abilities: he has a potentially supernatural level of determination and the ability to recognize when others can innovate in ways he cannot. It is his decision to utilize the skills of others to compensate for his lack of innovation, paired with his vicious tenacity, that makes him such a dangerous threat during his attempts to conquer Etheria.

And it is this combination of stubborn will and lack of innovative skill that causes the initial Etherian war to play out in the strange, drawn-out way it does, with a sudden rise in success when Hordak gains access to Entrapta and Catra’s skillsets.

Well! That was much longer than it needed to be. And might be entirely wrong, but it’s a logic that works for me; at the very least, it’s interesting to think about, isn’t it?

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Shielded. Chapter Five: The Repair Shop.

Anonymous said to

imagineclaireandjamie: Ask and you shall receive.

--

After a break last week, we’re back with Sunday Shielded. I hope you enjoy <3 MBD.

--

On Saturday, much to her surprise, Jamie was down in the kitchen -his pyjamas still on- frying up some bacon. Having smelled the food, she had woken later than usual and quickly gotten herself dressed to come and investigate.

“Morning.” He said, cheerfully.

“No work today?” She asked inquisitively. It had been two weeks since her arrival and not once had he taken a day off to rest.

“I thought maybe we could spend the day together, if ye like?”

He hadn’t exactly planned on staying in, but having her open up to him made him feel as if she were now ready for company...and he found he was interested in getting to know her. His neighbours had often joked that he’d find himself missing human company at some point but it hadn’t been until he’d had Claire in his house that he finally realised that they were right.

“Oh, well,” she replied looking a little shocked. She’d paused for so long that it gave him time to think and regret his decision, maybe she still needed time by herself…

Replying, finally, she looked down at her blank phone, “I’ll have to check my busy schedule and see if I can fit you in - I’m in demand, you know?”

Chuckling under his breath he passed her a breakfast sandwich before turning back to take a bite of his own. “Feeling humorous today, are we?” He jested, immediately panicking that it might have been the wrong thing to say.

Smiling around her sandwich, she blinked slowly and made her longest assessment of Jamie since meeting him. He was much taller than she’d remembered. She could see that as he ducked through the doorway into the pantry to collect the tomato sauce. It felt as though the house hadn’t been built with such dimensions in mind.

Sensing her eyes on him, Jamie poked his head around the door in time to see her hair settle back against her shoulders. She’d been quick to avoid being caught, but not fast enough. Biting his lip to stop the laughter from bubbling up he watched her fingers rest gently against the skin of her neck. The first thing he’d noticed was her height, small shoulders and a long shapely neck. The curls of her hair had been pinned up, but this morning she’d left them bobbing just shy of her collarbone. Somehow it gave emphasis to the muscles that ran seamlessly from her arm and up to stop beneath her ears. Pretty, he thought, more striking when she turned and he caught the deep blue hue of her irises. They were almost golden at the edges, like the tip of a wedding ring as the sun catches the metal.

He couldn’t stop the image of her in a long white dress springing to mind as he stumbled over a rogue stone on his way back to the sink and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the vision.

Silly, he thought as he sat in front of her.

Jenny, his sister, had been on the phone the night before talking about memories and he tried to play it off as if those conversations had merged though a strange spinning in the base of his stomach continued to bother him.

Seeing a strange confusion pass over his face, she coughed, wiping the crumbs from her mouth as she finished her breakfast. “What did you have in mind?”

The atmosphere that had subtly hung in the air vanished as fast as it had developed and, looking out of the window, she glanced at the clouds as they hovered overhead. It felt like rain, a day for being indoors no matter whether you were allowed out or not. Turning her attention back to Jamie, he tilted his head very slightly. She had no plans, obviously and had only thought as far as getting herself downstairs for a cup of tea.

“I could do wi’ some help, if ye dinna mind?”

“Of course!” The smile that spread across her face was honest, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of being some assistance. “I can’t promise that I’ll be great, it depends on what you need help with, but I’m all yours for the day.”

As it turned out, Jamie had a few pieces of furniture in the back of his bedroom that had various issues. One table with a missing leg, a chair with some damage to the woodwork along the back and some shelves in need of serious renovation.

“I saw yer books sitting in the suitcase you have, I thought maybe we could sand these down, gi’ them a new coat of varnish and put them on the walls in yer room. That way you can unpack, make the space your own?”

Holding the planks up, Jamie twisted the wood between his hands. There was a lull as he sized up what he’d got, making sure they were wide enough to hold a set of books. “Or we could paint them, if ye fancy some colour? I’m no’ totally averse to covering up the original oak but I ken enough about ‘Changing Rooms’ style that it can go horribly wrong. What do ye think?”

“I feel like a heathen for covering wood - varnish would be wonderful, though.”

“Do ye think designers are hidden behind the panels, just waiting for you to commit some crime against interior design?”

That thought remained with her through mid-morning and into the afternoon. When they finally stopped for lunch, the back utility room was covered in shavings, as were Jamie and Claire. Washing her hands, she tried to pick as many of the larger chunks of wood from her jumper and leggings. They’d managed to revitalise the former shelves and give them one coat of varnish. Now they were drying Jamie had suggested a cup of tea and something to eat before moving on to the other items.

“Have you ever thought of engraving?” Blowing across the warm liquid, she had in mind some of the more discrete carvings she’d seen on wooden furniture whilst frequenting antique shops in Oxford. “Not just initials - we could come up with a logo of sorts. Or a crest? Your family has one, doesn’t it?”

It had been one of those long nights a couple of days ago when she’d found his family crest. At first she had been amused, pulling the secret door open where it sat at the top of the stairs to find an array of hidden gems including a complete knight of the realm suit of armour. The crest had been embossed into the metal, its stylish swirls standing out clean and proud on the breastplate. She had been tempted to put it on for about a second, but had then relented, closed the door and moved on with her search.

It wasn’t until they were knee deep in their project that she’d had the idea.

“I suspect I’d need some practice if I were going to try and add that, there’s quite a bit of detail on it.” There was no surprise in his voice, but she did notice the subtle change in his face as he put his sandwich down for just a moment. His almost undetectable shock soon turned to amusement as he took a crisp from the bowl between them.

“Take a rubbing, that way you already have an almost identical copy of it.”

“Aye, good idea. What next to get it on the wood?”

“You use something sharp. I’d say a compass would probably work alright. Et voila,” with a flamboyant flick of her wrists, she pointed towards where the half broken items sat waiting their turn for sanding and fixing. “You have yourself the beginnings of your own engraving. A personalised signature on your recreations.” She looked excited at the prospect, which, in turn, made Jamie feel similarly joyful.

“My mam would have liked you.” He said without thinking. For a second he felt abashed at his words but when he saw that it hadn’t phased her, he took a deep breath and a gulp of his tea.

“She wouldn’t have been worried about you taking in waifs and strays, then?”

“Nah. She would have encouraged it. Especially since yer so handy wi’ hints on how to continue the Fraser legacy - it’s something she would have been keen on too.”

Sitting back in her chair she tried to picture what his mother might have been like.

“I’ll get out the albums later, if you like? Show you some pictures of her and da.” He said, answering her silent question.

“Sounds perfect. Now,” sitting up straighter, she put her hands flat against the table, “let’s get these chairs mended and back on form eh!”

“Couldn’t have put it better myself, Claire.”

With purpose, she nodded and stood, the name (though natural on his tongue) still feeling unnatural to her ears.

“You start the sanding, Jamie, and I’ll go and take the first rubbing of the crest.”

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale’s Pick: Miraculous Ranking (as of Season 3)

Rules:

1. The miraculous will be taken at their maximum potential. That means the user can use the special power as many times as they desire and what we know about those powers currently. (Example: I can't assume Chat noir will be able to throw his cataclysm like Chat Blanc, I only know he can destroy something he touches with it.

2. This list does not take into account the Kwami themselves. Their personality and abilities hold no bearing on the rankings.

3. The miraculous ranking will only be including its potential by itself. Not with fusions, power ups, just the bare essentials.

4. I will be ranking this based on Combat usage, practical usage, creative possibilities, and overall effectiveness

5. This is Opinion based and I would love to hear your logic on whether you think certain miraculous should be ranked higher or not. 

_______________________________________________________________________

13. The Mouse

It is a super situational miraculous. Its ability “Multitude” is a good ability when paired with other miraculous, but by itself, it sort of lacks in everything except stealth. It does allow for you to be in multiple places at once, but it isn't helpful when you are smaller then an actual mouse. Its not gonna win any fights, In a fight, it isn't gonna help the user out as anything more then a distraction.

12. The Fox

Now I know a lot of people will be shocked to see this one so low. But really, while its a cool ability, Illusions are kind of useless outside of distraction and deception. If used right it can cause your opponents some trouble and I do think it has a lot of creative usage and practical usage. But the problems set in when the user actually is aware that they are illusions. Now a clever person might be able to use the fact that their opponent knows they are illusions to their advantage... but that is also situational. Also, the weapon is a flute. It is one of the lamer weapons to use, little range, and needed for the power use, so if someone knocks the flute away, the illusion power is useless.

11. The Monkey

So how did the monkey’s situational power up beat out the fox? Simple, its power is useful in besting other miraculous  wielders and super powered individuals. Uproar is the power to mess up powers, your unique abilities become useless against this mad monkey. In terms of a fight, its like being an equalizer. Though the problem is, its kind of unpredictable. its effects change depending on who is hit and the power’s effect is only temporary, so if you use it, the user should act fast. Also, while the weapon is cool,, the miraculous is probably really easy to snatch off of his head.

10. The Butterfly.

Yes, I am putting the main villain’s miraculous down here. My reasoning, its highly conditional.

1. You need a consenting individual, usually one with negative emotions, or a willingness to do the user’s bidding.

2. The person with the akuma usually influences the power. Hawkmoth’s influence on their power set is confusing and its unknown. But it leans more towards the user’s mental state.

3. Hawkmoth can only control the akumatized victim somewhat. Again, this varies.

4. Only one akuma can be created at a time without power ups or boosts. 

5. There is a range on how far the akuma is that Hawkmoth can't influence it.

6. If that akuma is out of range, it can't be called back and a new akuma can't be made.

Now the butterfly miraculous does have some cool bonus abilities. Such as feeling other’s emotions from a stupidly far distance. If the akuma isn't purified it can multiply. It can boost the powers of other miraculous, and even make an akuma that has the power to boost its own power but again... that varies.

The butterfly is sort of like the king of conditional powers. It can be useful but it also can be limiting.

9. The Bee

How did I put the bee Miraculous this high up? Simple, stunning an opponent is crazy OP and its pretty much a one hit KO on most foes. Sure the user has to touch them, but at max potential, the attempts are unlimited and all the user needs it one opening and it is over. It is definitely more reliable in a fight and honestly in general.

8. The Turtle

Some say the best defense is a good offense, I say the best defense is a f***ing force field. The applications of Shelter are phenomonial. The shield is able to take a good amount of damage, Fu’s shield was able to hold out a long time even with attacks from Hawkmoth, Mayura and a sentimonster. Its a great stalling tool and great for protecting others as well as yourself. Plus the shield means you can Captain America all deadbeat fathers. And if Rising of the Shield hero has taught me anything, a good shield can do wonders.

7.The Dragon

I was actually surprised by how low I had this on the list. A miraculous that allows the user 3 different elemental abilities. Control of Wind, Lighting, and Water. How can I put this so low? Well the truth is, even though this is totally awesome and versatile. The other miraculous on this list are also stupid overpowered. But despite that, this is likely the best ranged power that is used.

6. The Horse

Transport is an amazing ability. Its fun with portals. Late for school? Portal. Need to avoid an attack? Portal? Want to send a weapon somewhere far away? Portal? Throw your enemies into the sun? Portal. Transport is crazy over powered, The only drawback being that the user has to jump into the portal to actually utilize it. So if someone sees a portal, they know something can happen.

5. The Black Cat

The cat miraculous is the best Offensive Miraculous. It’s weapon, the ever extending staff has crazy range, has a tracker, and can split into two weapons for duel wielding make it great to have. And its power Cataclysm can destroy ANYTHING it touches. While at first glance this seems lacking, imagine unlimited destructive attacks, not only that, it acts as the user’s protection from having the miraculous snatched, and it works on anything. Except sentibeasts, it just makes those go haywire. If you want the best example of how powerful and dangerous this power is, look at plagg. A cataclysm can level a city if not controlled. Chat noir has brought down things as large as the Eiffel Tower. And with unlimited cataclysms, One touch and the opponent is done FOREVER. It doesn't matter their ability if their dead. Also on a lesser note, Night vision and the ability to purr.

4. The Peacock.

The power to create Sentimonsters. Beings that can demonstrate sentience if not controlled by someone. The peacock seems to have the ability to make amok for people if they are willing to accept it or even themselves. The peacock has every advantage the Butterfly has, and more. It even gives the Peacock user free reign on what the amok is, Nathalie was able to make an exact replica of Ladybug with her own version of lucky charm. Meaning a peacock can make an evil version of pretty much any hero to an extent, though the amount of concentration needed is up for debate, which could be limiting. But a bonus is  that if the Sentimonster acts up, she can remove the amok. The only downside is that whoever has the item controls the sentimonster, and that can be turned against the user. But outside of that the weaknesses are pretty limited when it isn't corrupted.

3. The Ladybug

At first Glance it doesn't make much sense that Ladybug would be so much higher on the list, but the thing is, the Ladybug is crazy powerful, able to undo ALL damage done with miraculous healing. Able to summon an item that is guaranteed to help them in some compactly, and with unlimited summoning, can be used to handle ANY situation.

Plus, her weapon, the Yo-yo is also just as versatile as the Black cat staff. 

The only downside is that the Lucky charm needs to be figured out, in a hypothetical situation, with enough time and preparation, the lucky charm can helpfully beat any foe. But the key word is Preparation. Also there are some shortcomings of the Lucky charm.

1. It randomly give charms that are useful in an situation father in advance. (like the key in season 3)

2. It is not prepared for unknown elements. Like in season 2 finale, it summoned a miracle box, likely to get Hawkmoth’s miraculous, but the Lucky charm wasn't expecting Mayura so the item was useless.

3. If the user is not creative enough to know how to use the lucky charm, its pretty much useless.

But outside of that, at its max potential it is one of the most overpowered Miraculous.

2. The Snake

Anyone that has played undertale can tell you how OP save points are. Second chance is insanely broken. The user can memorize what their opponent’s attack patterns and counter. They can do this as many times as they want within a 5 minute interval.  Its a redo button and there is pretty much no limit to it at its max potential. Even with the limited 5 minutes before retransformation, it can be abused. In a one on one match, it is pretty much invincible. The only caveat is that the use nerds to slide the bracelet back to go back to the save point. So if the opponent wants to win, they have to incapacitate the snake user. Outside of that, Fu himself talks about how dangerous this miraculous is, and it is completely understandable.

1. The Bunny

Time travel in this universe is completely OP. Since the ML universe doesn't run on Multiverse theory, Time is delicate and can be changed easily. Bunnyx has the power to alter time in anyway she wants. Rabbit hole not only sends her to any time she thinks off, it takes her to the Burrow which allows her to view MULTIPLE periods of time and look at them like she is watching a movie, she can rewind and fast forward to find key events. Bunnyx could go back in time and simply take the miraculous away before the user even transforms. Heck, the bunny miraculous allows the user to do pretty much ANYTHING. Trap your opponents in the Dino age? Stop them from being born? Travel forward in time and find the cure for cancer? Bunnyx also has Pockets, she can HIDE HER MIRACULOUS!?

Seriously, The snake miraculous can have all the save points in the world, but it can't counter someone jumping through time.

Ladybug’s lucky charm won't work if isnt expecting a f***ing dinosaur to pop out of nowhere after its summoned.

The point is, Time travel is the best power and thus the bunny miraculous is dangerously OP and the best miraculous

[the-reaper-of-maidens]

Shadow Walk

Coming in FAST with that quality Lady Di x OC ONCE AGAIN~ The Reaper’s dark magic abilities are slowly starting to take shape, and it’s up to Alcina to teach her the ropes. I hope I explained how this ability works well enough... And yes, more soft Alcina ksksksk TW: abuse mention

Some headcanons: the daughters have different abilities, but that might change when the game comes out and we find out more. c: I’m also gonna assume dark magic is a thing in this game, since Daniela can do spooky dark magic stuff in the demo.

Viorica is the oldest daughter, and Aurelia is the youngest. Pointless, since they’re only mentioned in this story, but... still!

“Now, with any new ability, you have to practice it and hone it, my dear Reaper,” Alcina swirled a wine glass, finishing off the last of it. “Once you get this down, shadow walking is a powerful skill.”

“Makes sense, I wasn’t an all star tennis player after one day,” the Reaper finished off her own drink, a HarSha black tea with honey and blood. She rolled her shoulders back and tossed her leather jacket to the side to make things easier.

“How did it feel, the first time you walked into the shadows?” the castle’s mistress asked as she set her wine glass down, trying to pinpoint the issues to help her hound dog improve.

“Crushing, like I turned flat as paper and it was hard to breathe, so I panicked and clawed my way out,” the Reaper explained, shuddering at the memory.

“Not surprised, the first time in the shadow realm is always… terrifying. It’s exactly why I cleared out my entire day: to teach you how to better utilize shadow walking. The very first step is to relax. Loosen up. Take a breath before you step into the shadows and breathe in and out… in and out slowly and evenly,” Alcina advised. “The second step is do not be afraid. Don’t let the dark and fear get to you, my pet, because that’s a fast ticket to stay stuck in the shadow realm.”

“So… just relax and don’t get scared. Sounds easy enough.”

“But do not underestimate its difficulty. It’s far easier said than done, O Reaper Mine,” the lady of the castle strongly warned. “It’s far more dangerous shadow walking unprepared than it is to astral project prepared.”

“Typical dark magic stuff, everything has a risk when it comes to that,” and with that, the Reaper took a few breaths to psych herself up, slowly stepping into a nice little corner rife with darkness by the throne. She normally hid away in this spot, anyways, in case Alcina wanted her at the ready to dispose of someone who was being a bother.

“Just focus on entering and exiting for now, Reaper. Don’t let the branching paths within the shadow realm distract you,” the mutant vampiress nodded, watching her little hunter ease into things. “Hmm,” she poured herself another glass of wine as she watched. For now, she didn’t feel the need to take a stroll in the shadow realm with her, as the Reaper needed to get used to being alone in the shadow realm first.

“Okay, don’t get distracted…” the Reaper repeated to herself as she went in. The shadow realm was, as Alcina said, terrifying the first time. The shadow realm was full of a person’s darkest fears and most painful memories, which was why the gargantuan woman stressed the importance of keeping calm. “...Don’t…” she swallowed nervously as she saw the eerie specters of her birth family in the voidscape, all eyes on her as if casting judgment on her, “get distracted…” She remembered her mistress’s words and decided to dip out before the shadows would try to drag her in. She stepped back out into the mortal world, slashing her way out as she panted heavily, shaking off the dark tendrils that still clung onto her arms.

“Breathe, Reaper,” the vampiress reminded her hound dog, watching her take a breather as she sat down against a wall. Alcina stood up to give the Reaper some encouraging words. “Don’t be surprised if you fail many times. I have experienced it many times myself when I was learning,” she knelt down to her hunter’s level.

“...You? Failure?” the Reaper was surprised, to say the least. To her, Alcina Dimitrescu, the lady of the castle, was the epitome of grace and perfection. How could she have possibly failed at anything?

“Mother Miranda taught me all I needed to know when my own abilities started manifesting. If it makes you feel any better… I saw slayers in the void, doing unspeakable acts on the servants of the castle. My fears actually became even worse when my daughters went under my protection,” Alcina admitted. “It’s horrific, is it not, to see your constant fears being personified in the shadows? That paralyzing grip… you can’t let your fears win, Reaper. If you do, they’ll drag you away, never to be seen again. It’s a fate worse than death, my dear.”

“Wow… I didn’t think you feared anything,” the Reaper admitted. “...Makes my own feel stupid. I saw my birth family, judging me. I was scared because I saw Pop again… I was scared he’d try to hit me. I was scared Ma would try to manipulate me to go back home. And my little bro? Tch. Less said, the better.”

“Shhh, your pain isn’t lesser than mine just because you think it is. Slayers are a rare occurrence. You went through torture every day. Those are not the same, Reaper. Even my own childhood pains can’t be compared to yours.”

The Reaper reached out for Alcina’s hand and gently squeezed it, nodding a bit. “I know… it’s just hard for me to realize that. Just… gimme a minute and I’ll be ready to face my trauma and fears again, Lady Alcina.” She liked it when Alcina was soft, it was a rather rare side of the mistress only she, besides the sisters, got to see.

“Of course. It’s never easy the first few times. I don’t expect you to suddenly get over years of abuse the second time you enter the shadow realm,” the lady of the castle was understanding, or more lenient than she would usually be, at least.

The Reaper took a few breaths, trying to compose herself in a few minutes. “I’m kinda curious… do your daughters have similar abilities?”

“Not quite. Past their strength and speed, it seems like they have different powers. Aurelia, for example, doesn’t swarm into moths like Daniela can. She can shapeshift, though. Viorica is excellent at using magic compared to the other two, so she much prefers hands-off fighting,” Alcina explained.

Soon enough, the Reaper was ready for another round. “I got this. Those specters won’t get to me…” she relaxed as she went into the shadows again. Naturally, she was still a bit tense seeing those laughing phantoms, but she stood tall (well, as tall as could be for 4’9”). She turned tail only once the one depicting her father stepped forward, fist raised. “Sorry… it’s Pop. He’s the big hangup, it seems,” the Reaper sighed.

“You did say he gave you some of your scars… I’m not surprised. We’ll take it one day at a time, Reaper,” Alcina nodded. “Once you get past your little hurdle and get used to being alone in there, I will join you in the shadow realm to show you how to navigate. It can be… difficult, due to how fluid shadows can be.”

“I think I get what you mean, it all depends on the angle of light, and that can drastically change the shadow it casts.”

“...Exactly, my dear. It’s another reason traversing the shadow realm is more dangerous than the astral plane. Unless you have furniture that you never move, your starting point might not even be there when you get back, so you can’t rely on that. Just be ready to end up in a different spot in the castle when we do that,” Alcina gave her hunter a heads up.

For now, though, the Reaper needn’t worry. She just focused on getting used to the horrors of the voidscape, bit by bit every day. “Okay, I think I’m mostly okay now, Lady Alcina. Realizing that they’re only phantoms helped me out a lot… they can’t hurt me,” she confided after months of simple practice, just shifting between mortal plane and shadow realm.

“Good,” Alcina nodded in approval. “That will be your armor, my Reaper.”

“We just need a big enough shadow for you to walk into, but luckily… we got one right here, if you don’t mind bending down a bit,” the Reaper smacked the wall nearest to her. It was evening, so the sun cast some decent shadows on some of the objects. The petite hunter learned during her training that she needed a shadow big enough to enter (if she couldn’t get into it crawling, it was too small, she found), that she couldn’t go into shadows with many holes, and that she obviously couldn’t go into her own shadow.

“I wonder where we’ll end up tonight,” Alcina giggled charmingly as she took off her hat and set it down somewhere, which sent shivers down the Reaper’s spine.

Oooh, maybe it’ll be our room, the Reaper was flushed behind her bandana as she followed the countess into the shadow realm. Of course, with Alcina by her side, she wasn’t scared of these shadowy wisps tormenting her for who she loved, and with her at Alcina’s… the countess was reassured that slayers wouldn’t dare enter Castle Dimitrescu.

“Eyes up, my pet, the branching paths have subtle cues to clue you in where they lead you to. Blink and you’ll miss it,” Alcina patted her hunter’s head. She squinted, noting a vague blob resembling a table. “I believe… this one leads to the dining hall,” she led the Reaper through the twists and turns, and out they came, stepping out from next to a cabinet. “It can be dreadfully difficult to ascertain where the path will lead,” the mutant sighed. “I’m glad we didn’t pop up from underneath the table this time.”

“...It’s happened before?”

“...I don’t want to talk about it,” Alcina pursed her lips in embarrassment at that memory. Hell, even to this day, it still happened on occasion. “Now, let’s keep going in your training, my darling hunter. Just follow my lead, and you might get rewarded nicely~”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 29

Warnings: none really

Tagging: @ocfairygodmother​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

The water is scalding. Causing her to wince; ripping the breath from her lungs as she steps underneath it. Accepting it’s brutality and punishment in an attempt to exchange physical pain for internal. She bites down on her bottom lip hard enough to break skin and draw blood; holds her breath and bouncing up and down on her heels as she suffers through the temporary agony in the hopes of gaining long term relief.

Her heart aches. A pain far more intense than anything she’s ever experienced in her thirty-five years.  An emptiness has settled deep inside of her; holes that had long ago been patched back together threatening to burst wide open. The anguish is unbearable. The start of what feels like prolonged state of mourning that comes with expected yet still devastating loss. It’s a painful and bitter pill to swallow when you’ve the end of your rope and no matter how desperately you try to hold on, you still wind up torn apart and broken in the end.

Tyler’s confession had blindsided her; knocking the wind clear out of her and sending both her emotions and her reality into a violent tailspin. She’d a setback when it came to alcohol. After all, he’d fallen off the wagon three times in the last six and half years and the last time she’d relegated herself to the fact that it would always be part of their life. Comforting herself with thoughts of how at least he wasn’t a mean or a violent drunk. Loud and obnoxious, and often overly emotional and sensitive and sometimes even absentminded and neglectful, but never intimidating or aggressive. That she would never tolerate.

But he hadn’t had Oxy in his system since the rehab stint after Dhaka, and it had been successfully flushed from his system and he’d never gone back to it again. It’d been a tough battle, but he’d come out happier and healthier without the added weight of dependency. For almost seven years he’d never given the drug a second thought and had dedicated himself to living a cleaner life; hating the mere thought of taking anything stronger than over the counter pain medication despite being in near constant agony.

Things had been better. Even with alcohol still in the picture. Once he was off the Oxy he became calmer. More content. Those jagged and rough edges softening. But then the Dhaka nightmares began and was closely followed by depression and PTSD; powerful and unrelenting demons that had dragged him into the very depths of hell. Convincing him that he -and everyone around him- would be better off if he had died that day on the bridge. There’d been no reasoning with him while in that state, and it had taken two legitimate suicide attempts and as many psych ward stays to convince him to get the help that he so desperately needed.

But they’d made it through. Somehow emerging from the darkest and most dreadful times -and a six month separation- stronger than ever. Surviving things that would have torn most couples apart. And even though the battle with alcohol had remained, not once had he ever mentioned needing or wanting or Oxy. Even while rehabbing from painful knee and shoulder replacement surgeries. He’d just battled through it; never complaining, barely wincing or grimacing even on the worst days. He’d accepted it as his new natural state of life; permanent punishment for the bad decisions and the horrible things he’d had to resort to just to stay alive. A life of physical suffering in exchange for having a life at all.

It had been hard. Hearing the confession as it tumbled from lips. The stark and brutal realization of just how lost and troubled he actually is; seeing the desperation and vulnerability...and even shame and disgust...in his eyes and all over his face. It’s difficult; loving someone that much and having to watch them suffer. Knowing that there’s more you can do for them and feeling completely and utterly helpless. There’s no words that can make things better or take all the pain -both physical and mental- away.

She’d known the moment he’d said it that things were out of her reach. That HE was out of her reach. That there was nothing more she could say or do that would make even the slightest bit of difference. That if things keep spiralling out of control and the want and need became too powerful to control, he would fall back into old habits. And that will be the final straw. No more chances. No more thinking that love alone is enough to save someone. It should be -and it would be- in a perfect world. But there’s only so much she can take; only so much fight left in her. And if he gets to that point, she will have lost him. With no chance of ever getting him back.

The tears come now. Spilling down her face and joined by painful, choking sobs that cause her entire body to quake. Tears of anger and frustration; profound sadness that accompanies an impending loss. The ache in her heart and the tightness in her chest increasing, and she places both palms and her forehead against cool, smooth tile and closes her eyes. Standing directly under the steaming, pounding water until there’s no more tears to shed and the sobs settle into nothing more than soft, pitiful whimpers.

You can do this, she tells herself, even though the emptiness and the tremendous sense of loss say otherwise.  You’ve gotten through worse. You got through Dhaka. You got through what happened on the bridge. You can get through this too.

She thinks of those minutes and hours immediately afterwards; sitting in a packed OR waiting room still clad in the same clothes and Doc Marten boots she’d been wearing on the bridge. Covered in dirt and grime and blood. So much blood. Some of it still bright and damp and smelling fresh, other areas thick and dark and stiffening the fabric of her t-shirt. It had caked and stained her hands and gathered under her nails; travelled all the way to her elbows and was streaked across her face and forehead and had even settled in her hair. She’d been alone. No Nik. No Yaz. No team members whose names she didn’t remember. And the shock of just what had happened -the things she’d seen and the things she’d done- had left her feeling numb. As if her body and mind were acting on their own accord and she had absolutely no control over them.

She can remember the looks on other peoples’ faces. Their outright horror and disgust at being confronted by so much blood,  their obvious concern for her fragile mental state, and genuine curiosity. Complete strangers had offered her drinks of water and juice and small snacks, yet couldn’t refrain from asking well meaning yet horribly invasive questions that she had no reasonable answers for. A nurse had brought her a pair of scrubs and socks to change into and had escorted her to a staff shower so she could clean herself up. And she remembers standing under the water watching as all the blood washed away; swirling around at her feet before disappearing down the drain.

She hadn’t been in the waiting area for ten minutes before the surgeon had come out with his first update; grim faced and stern, not an ounce of confidence in his eyes. Giving her the clear plastic bag packed with Tyler’s belongings; whatever could be salvaged, that was. Combat boots, cell phone, the watch and the bracelets he’d been wearing, the utility vest. She’d spent half an hour in a public washroom trying to scrub the latter clean; sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to ignore the rips and the tears and the bullet holes, using hand soap to attempt to get all of the blood and dirt out. Her stunned and foolish brain convincing her that it HAD to be done. After all, he might need it again.

Tightly screwing her eyes shut, she drops her chin to her chest; breathing slow and steady as she lets the steaming water pound against her body. And while soothing, it does nothing to wash away the vivid and haunting memories that will forever plague her mind.

****

She finds him on the couch; in nothing but a pair of tattered old sweats with his legs stretched out and his bare feet propped on the coffee table.  Eyes closed and breathing soft and steady; Addie lying high on his chest with her face against his neck, his cheek pressed against the side of her head and a protective hand on her back. It’s quite the sight; that big, strong man made up muscles and tattoos and scars with a tiny baby clad in a bubble gum pink sleeper. And she’s quiet and stealthy as she picks up his cell from where it sits on the coffee table, quickly snapping a picture before returning the phone to its resting place.

“What’cha doing?” It’s a groggy mumble, stirred awake when he feels her plucking the empty baby bottle from where he’d set in between his thighs.

“You fell asleep,” she explains, then places the bottle on the table. “Want me to take her? I can put her in her crib and you…”

“Leave her. She’s fine for now.”

With his free hand he reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, gently tugging her towards him and down onto the couch. Arm wrapping around her when she settles in tightly against him; legs tucked under her, head against his shoulder, a hand on his stomach.  

The familiarity of him is comforting; smooth skin against her cheek, the smell that clings to him, the warmth of the strong, solid body and the feel of those tight, well defined abdominal muscles under her fingertips as she slowly and methodically traces each one. Yet she can feel the tension in her shoulders and that aching -that dread- that lingers in the pit of her stomach. And she wonders if he’s fallen asleep again; if those demons and those monsters have finally agreed to let him rest.  Until she feels the brush of his thumb along her shoulder and then his body moving against hers as he carefully moves Addie from her resting place; laying her along his forearm with her head in the crook of his elbow, then tucking her tightly into him.

“Everything okay?” Tyler asks, and she nods. “You haven’t said much since we got home.”

That was eight hours ago, and since then they’ve maybe had five minutes of meaningful conversation. Despite putting on a good front with the smiles and the laughs, they’d been fabricated for the most part. She’d been quiet and distant. With him, with the kids, even with Salena who’d cover over to ‘hangout’ with Ovi and Kyle while they held down things on the homefront.

He’d thought things were okay; that his confession and the open and honest -and completely rational- talk afterwards had been a good start. That while it was going to be a long, hard road, at least they were beginning it on the right foot.  And he hates how weak it makes him feel; how the last seven years of fighting PTSD and depression and everything that comes with him have left him a neurotic, self conscious mess.

“There hasn’t been much to say,” she says, as her fingers continue their exploration of his abs and the small scars and imperfections that mar his stomach. “It’s been one thing after another since we got home.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It’s been a little...I don’t know…”

“Off the reservations?”

He chuckles. “That works.”

“And it annoyed me that there were so many goddamn people here. Ovi and Chloe and Kyle and Salena.  Like what the hell? We’re not a drop in centre or a shelter for wayward youth.”

“Well someone did have to watch the kids.”

“They should have left when we got back. They didn’t have to stick around. It’s like having four other kids. We have to entertain them and feed them and worry about keeping them happy. I’m their maid or their mother. Like, fuck off already.”

Tyler grins. “You’re feisty tonight.”

“It just pissed me off. I love having my brother visit and I like Salena and it’s nice to have a friend. But God. Go away. I like when it’s just us and the kids and I don’t have to worry about other people.”

“Fuck ‘em. I don’t worry about anyone else. Just my people. That’s all that I care about.”

“Is it wrong that I’m glad my brother is next door eating the neighbour’s ass like a cupcake?”

“When you say it that way? Yes. It is. It is wrong. In so many ways.”

“I mean, I know he just met her and despite what he says, I know it’s one of the main reasons he broke things off with Nik. But at least he’s out of my hair. I’ve got enough to deal with. I don’t need his bullshit on top of it.”

“You know what I think? I think we’re the last two people who should be talking about things happening too fast between him and Sabrina.”

“Salena,” she corrects. “I don’t know if you actually don’t remember her name, or if you just call her Sabrina just to be a dick.”

“It’s just to be a dick,” Tyler admits.

“You honestly don’t like her? It’s not just you being paranoid for no reason?”

“It’s not that I don’t like her. I just don’t trust her. And not in a paranoid or overprotective way. I’m working on being okay with the ‘you having friends’ thing. I’m good with that. There’s just something about her. Something that doesn’t sit right. And you've always said I have good instincts.”

“Very good instincts. Amazing instincts, actually.”

“Well they’re telling me that there’s something not right with her. That she’s not who she says she is. Who you think she is. Even Millie said she doesn’t trust her.”

“Well in all fairness, Millie is five and hates anyone who doesn’t put pineapple on pizza or who eats steak cooked past medium rare.”

“I just want you to be careful. I’m not saying don’t talk to her or don’t hang out with her. ‘Cause I get that you need friends. Just be careful around her. Don’t get too close, don’t say too much. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” she says, a smile on her face as she pats his stomach and kisses his shoulder. “See how agreeable I can be when you don’t freak out and we actually talk about things?”

“You are less of a bitch.”

“You know, you start out so well and you always manage to end so badly.”

“Kind of like everything in my life.”

She frowns. “That is not what I meant and you know it. I meant it as a joke. I was teasing you.” She tousles his hair, then runs her fingers through it. Loving the messy ‘bed head’ look it so easily takes on. “Are you alright? You’re not…?”

“Thinking about getting drunk and high? No. I’m not. I honestly haven’t thought about that since this morning. I don’t think about it all the time. It’s not every day, twenty four hours a day. Just when shit happens.”

“Like Ovi wanting help,” she concludes. “And your dad. And the nightmares.”

Tyler nods.

“I mean I get it. I do. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling or what’s going on in your head, but I know you struggle. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate and a lot of things inside of you that are weighing you down. And I know the kind of life you’ve lived. The things you’ve seen and the things you’ve had to do. That would mess anyone up.”

It’s been a lifetime of turmoil. An abusive childhood, the death of his mother at a young age, a tumultuous marriage right out of high school, and the death of his first child. And he’d spent years devoting himself to the military and then to the job. Never taking time to truly rest and worry about himself.

“I don’t want you to think less of me,” he says. “I don't want you being disgusted or disappointed or…”

“Okay, first off,” Esme interjects. “I won't let you talk about yourself like that. Because none of that is true. I’m not disappointed or disgusted. Not in the slightest. And I could never think less of you. Because I know what kind of man you are and I know you’re strong and resilient and you’re loyal and protective and all those amazing things that make you, you. I mean, yeah, I won’t lie; there’s some things about you that drive me batshit insane.”

Tyler smirks.

“But it’s stupid shit like your snoring and how cold your feet are and you have the nerve to put them against me in bed. Or how you refuse to separate laundry before putting it in the machine and we’ve had to throw out so many clothes. Or how our last Christmas in Colorado you actually used a staple gun to put the lights on the house.”

“Don’t hold back baby,” he grins. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“But it’s dumb stuff like that. It’s the little things that drive me nuts but don’t make me love you any less. And I bet you have a whole list of things that drive you crazy when it comes to me.”

“It’s not actually a list, but…”

“But they’re still things that drive you nuts, right? Do they make you love me any less? Even the more serious things. Are they horrible enough to make you think less of me?”

“Of course not.”

“Well then why would I think that way about you? You’re not a terrible person because you’ve got issues. It’s not like you were a mean or an abusive drunk. That would have been a lot worse.”

“You would have totally kicked my ass if I ever got like that.”

“I would have given you the ass kicking of a lifetime. And then I would have taken your kids and left and I would have made sure you never found out. And that would have hurt you a lot more than anything physical I could have done.”

It’s the harsh and honest truth. As much as she wants him around, she would be more than capable of surviving without him. Of taking the kids and giving them a good life; somewhere safe and happy, away from the turmoil and heartache that booze and drugs would cause. And he wouldn’t blame her if she did leave. If that six month separation had taught him anything, it’s that she’s a hell of a lot stronger than anyone...even him...gives her credit for.

“If you go back to that...the booze...the meds...especially the meds..I can’t stay with you, Tyler. I can’t. Not because I don’t love you. Because I do. With everything I am and everything I have. But I love my children more and I won’t let them grow up like that. I refuse to let them go through that. I can live with going back to the job, but if you go back to the way you were when we met...if Oxy comes into this house or I find you’re sneaking off and doing it somewhere else...we’re done. I’ll walk out of here and I will take those kids and I won’t look back. And I know you don’t want that.”

“I don’t want that.”

Emotion chokes at him; tears filling his eyes as he looks down at the baby sleeping soundly against him. So tiny and so perfect. Everything that’s beautiful and good about the two of them existing in those six pounds and fifteen inches. Five times he’d experienced this; the joy and the profound love that comes with being a dad. And six months away from his kid had felt like a lifetime and had nearly destroyed him.

“You could survive without me,” she says. “But I know you wouldn’t survive long without them.”

“I don’t want to live without any of you,” he tells her. “We’re in this together. The second we found out about Millie and when we decided to get married. I don’t want to lose them and I don’t want to lose you either.”

“But you will. If you go back to the way you were.  The booze, the Oxy, the death wish. If you go back to that, we are not going to make it. Because I need to think about those kids first. I won’t let them grow up like that and you shouldn’t want them to either.”

“I don’t. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“I can handle the job. If you decide you want to go back, I can accept it and we can live like that. That won’t kill us. But the rest will. And I don’t want that.  I don’t want to have to walk away. Because I love you. More than I ever thought I could love someone, especially after Mark. I’d rather live with you than without you.”

“Even with the snoring and the cold feet?” he teases.

“I just tell you to put on socks or to roll over and be quiet. Sometimes I plug your nose until you can't breathe and you wake up.”

“So you are homicidal.”

“I’m not trying to kill you. I’m trying to wake you up and to stop your snoring. Now if I covered your nose and your mouth, you might have a valid concern.”

Tyler smirks.

She tightens the hold on his hair, then presses his lips to his temple, followed by his ear, then down to his cheek. Lips warms and feathery as they travel along his jaw as she speaks. “You are the strongest person I know. That I’ve ever known. And I need you to fight this. Harder than you’ve ever fought anything else. Even after Dhaka. Because you have little humans that love you and adore you and would miss you so much. If you can’t do it for myself or for me, do it for them. I mean look at her…” she reaches across to him to run a palm over Addie’s head; the dark hair soft against her skin. “...look how beautiful she is. How perfect she is. You did this. You helped make this. Something so amazing. Why would you not want to fight?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just don’t know I have anything left to fight it.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You don’t give up. You’re not a quitter. Maybe before we met and you felt like you had nothing to lose and thought you deserved to die. But now you have everything to live for. So if you think I’m just going to sit back and let you...of all people...just give up, you have another thing coming. So stop,” she kisses his cheek. “Stop your shit and get it together and fight this thing. Promise me, Tyler. That you’re not going to give in to this.”

“I’m not going to give in,” he assures her. “I don’t want to lose you or my kids. That would kill me quicker than anything else ever could.”

“See , now THIS is when being ferociously stubborn is a good thing,” her face and voice seem brighter. “And isn’t she something else?” She traces the outer edge of Addie’s ear with her fingertip. “She’s just so tiny and so perfect and so amazing.”

“And beautiful,” he adds. “Just like her mom. We did good, yeah?”

“We did. Five times. It’s surreal, isn’t it? If you think about where you were seven years ago compared to now.”

“I don’t even want to think about where I was seven years go. I mean, other than when you walked into my place looking all cute and shit in your little shorts and your tank top.”

“I still can’t believe you remember what I was wearing. It’s not like it was anything spectacular. Not like Nik and her blouse cut down to her belly button nearly.”

“I never paid attention to what she was wearing. I was too busy looking at your ass in those shorts.”

She laughs. “You were honestly checking out my ass?”

“And other things,” he admits. “I’m a guy. I’m gonna look. Especially when fresh meat walks through the door.”

“Fresh meat? Really? That’s what you thought of me?”

“I don’t mean it in that way. I didn’t know who you were; I’d never seen you before. And you just show up out of the blue and walk in looking like that? Yeah, I checked you out.”

“You were very sly about it because I thought you hated me.”

“I didn’t hate you. I was nice to you.”

“That was nice? That was you being nice?”

“Okay, so maybe you annoyed me a little.”

“I annoyed you now?” she laughs. “How did I annoy you? I barely spoke to you or looked at you.”

“I didn’t like that Nik just showed up like that and brought someone with her. And it threw me off that you looked like you did and your ass looked like it did. And I hadn’t had sex in like four months, so…”

“That’s what it was! I annoyed you because you were sexually frustrated.”

“Pretty much,” Tyler nods.  “And you were wearing those shorts and that strap of your tank top kept falling down. I kept wanting to push it back up but Nik was there and that would have been really awkward if I’d kicked her out and made her wait while I banged you.”

“Awfully bold of you to assume I would have succumbed to your advances.”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “You so would have.”

“Actually, yeah. I would have,” she agrees, and then bursts out laughing and drops her forehead onto his shoulder. “You’re a bad influence! You and your blue eyes and your stupidly handsome face. For what it’s worth, you sort of annoyed me too.”

“How? I behaved myself.”

“You did. But I was annoyed at how ridiculously good looking you were. I’ve seen a lot of mercenaries, but I’d never seen one that looked like that.”

“So you were checking me out too.”

“Of course I was. I’m not blind. I know a good thing when I see it.”  She jumps off the couch and heads for the kitchen, returning with a carton of ice cream and two spoons. “I mean, you were all tall and big arms and broad shoulders and the pure definition of walking sex. And the voice…” she drops down beside him once more, handing him a spoon and pulling off the lid on the ice cream. “...that would have sealed the deal. If you had said drop your pants, I would have done it, no questions asked.”

“Talk about a wasted opportunity.”

“Well we made up for it over the course of five days,” she reasons. “I couldn’t give it up in the first ten minutes. I already looked like a big enough slut after knowing you for three days.”

“For the record, I never thought you were a slut.”

“That’s reassuring. I thought you were one, so…”

He frowns. “That’s not nice.”

“A guy doesn’t look like you and not get laid a lot. I’m just saying. And the things you knew how to do and how well you did them? Yeah. I knew you were a player.”

“Yeah? Well for someone who claims to have only been with three guys including me, you knew a little too much and were a little too willing to let me do certain things.”

“You’re going to complain about it seven years later? Really?”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying how it seemed.”

“Well you spend four years never having an orgasm other than the ones you give yourself, then let’s see how you feel when someone comes along and gives you multiple.  I have to say, you were on the ball that night.”

“I wanted you to keep coming back for more so I had to make a good first impression.”

“Oh believe me. You did. Because here I am, seven years later, looking like a hot mess after having five kids, and still putting out.”

“You’re beautiful. Always have been. Always will be.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Even after that many kids?”

He gives her a wink and leans in to kiss her. “Especially after that many kids.”

****

He groans as he stands; a grimace on his face and limp more pronounced as he carries Addie to her playpen; gently placing her inside and then tightly tucking a blanket around her.

“You okay?” Esme asks, as he returns to the couch, sitting down beside her once more. “You haven’t limped that bad in a long time.”

“I’m just stiff as hell,” he assures, then frowns as he reaches for one of the spoons. “Are you trying to make me fat?”

“You’re in a bulk. Ice cream will help you do that. Although I should be getting you fat. So then I don’t have to worry about all those thirsty teachers and playground moms.”

“You already don’t have to worry about them. Besides, you should be more concerned about the neighbor.”

Esme grins. “She thinks you’re a snack.”

“A snack? Fuck her. I’m the whole goddamn buffet.”

“Plus extra dessert. And those warm lemon smelling face cloths some places give you.”

Tyler grins. “I think that’s honestly the best and the weirdest compliment anyone has ever given me. Just so you know, you’re the whole dessert section of the buffet. Plus extra chocolate sauce and sprinkles.”

“You keep sweet talking me like that and I may just jump you right here.”

“Yeah? You promise?”

“We’ll see…” she singsongs, and they lapse into a companionable silence as they dig into the ice cream. Listening to Addie’s soft breathing and the sounds of the nocturnal wildlife that lingers on their property.

“So…” he breaks the silence. “...I was thinking.”

“Uh oh. I don’t know if I like the way you said that.”

“About what you said today. About the job. How you’d be okay with me going back.”

Both eyebrows arch as she regards him.

“I just want you to hear me out, okay? Just listen to what I have to say before saying anything back or freaking out on me. Can you do that?”

Esme nods.

“I have an idea. Actually, it was Ovi’s idea first but I tweaked it and made it make more sense. More beneficial. For me. For us. As a family.”

“Alright,” she swallows some ice cream and helps herself to another spoonful.

“What if I started my own operation? If I got my own group of guys together and made up a  team and got the word out that we’re available and looking for work? What if I was the boss. The Nik of things, so to speak.”

“Where would you find the guys?”

“It’s been almost seven years since Dhaka but my name still has a lot of pull. I let people know I’m looking for mercs, there won’t be a shortage of interested people. And I have a few that have been itching get back into it  and would jump at the chance.  Remember Nathan?”

“The marine from New Zealand?”

“He’s been wanting to break away from Nik for a while. Says she’s losing her touch and things are going to shit.  He’s put his name out there but has gotten a lot of interest.”

“What are his numbers like?”

“Decent. Got a good kill record. Not that that means everything when it comes to the job. But he hasn’t gotten seriously hurt, hasn’t gotten a client or a teammate killed, or royally fucked up.”

“So he’d be one to take a chance on.”

Tyler nods.

“Who else?”

“Just guys I’ve worked with before. That I know work hard and I can trust. Nik won’t be happy though.”

“Because you’re getting into it and getting a piece of that pie?”

“That and I’d be pinching some of her guys. And she knows if people know it’s my operation, we’ll start pulling all the big jobs. Word travels fast in the game and if surviving Dhaka did anything…”

“It boosted your reputation,” she concludes. “Big time. People will be shocked. If you decide to get back in it. Especially if you get back in as a boss. Is that really something you want to do? Or would you rather be right in it getting your own hands dirty?”

“I’d rather come home to my family. And there’s a way better chance of that if I just run things. I mean, I’d have to go where the jobs are, but I wouldn’t have to go out right out in the field. I’d just stay behind and run shit.”

“Hmm…” Esme taps the bowl of her spoon against her lips as she considers his word.

“What are you thinking?” Tyler asks. “And be honest. Don’t just say that you think I want to hear.”

“Well, first, I think it’s a huge step for you.”

“In a good way, or…”

“Of course in a good way. In a very good way. You have the experience. You know how you want things done and you know how you want guys to be. And you know they’ll work for you and that they’ll work well.”

“But…”

“Actually, there is no but. Not that I can think of. And I already told you that I was okay with you going back. Even when it was just the thought of you back out in the field. Could you run things from home? Until there’s a job and you have to go wherever?”

“Baby, in this day and age and with the technology out there? I could run things while taking a shit.”

“And it’s something you’d be happy with?”

“I think so. I think it would stop me from missing the job. I’d still be in life, but not actually in it. I would be a hell of a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“I know I’d feel better about it,” she admits.

“It would take a bit. To get everything off the ground. I might need your help.”

Her eyes widen.

“Just with intel stuff and getting the word out. Nothing serious.”

“I am not getting involved like I did in Ireland.”

“I wouldn't want you to. Strictly behind the scenes. I promise.”

She sighs. “I suppose I could help with that. What’s in it for me? What kind of payout do I get?”

He grins. “My undying love and loyalty?”

“I already have that. Next.”

“Lots of dick?” he tries again.

“I already get that.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know then. What do you want?”

“I want to go away. Just the two of us. For a couple days. Three at the most.”

“Okay,” Tyler agrees. “Where?”

“I want to go to Kimberley.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you want to go there?”

“I want you to call Koen and tell him we want to stay at the shack. That we’ll pay for him to stay somewhere else for two or three days. I want to go hiking and I want to camp for a night at that gorge you told me about. Where you jumped off the cliff and scared the shit out of Rata.”

“That’s all you want?”

Esme nods.

“Really? You don’t want flowers or expensive jewellery or…”

“I don’t want those things. I want to go away. With you. Just the two of us. And that’s where I want to go. Can you make it happen?”

He gives a confident smile. “Consider it done.”

[winterune]

Pet - Thoughts and Musings

I am back with my seasonal anime musings/analysis/reviews/whatever. Because of various reasons, I have not written any of these posts since...I don’t know...last spring anime season? LOL I still have soooo many on my list from last year to watch gahhh. But I did caught up with Beastars and Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo - both of which were awesome, by the way. I wanted to write some things for them (especially Araburu, because I felt like there’s a lot of things I wanted to say), but...I don’t know. Life caught up?

Anyway, here’s Pet, with an average score of 6.57/10 on MAL. Quite a low one for my taste, as I rarely watch anything with a score below 7. However, this is one of those anime I decided to see not because of the MAL score or anyone else’s influence, but because I wanted to. Heck, when it was first announced, I was immediately excited, because 1) it’s directed by Omori Takahiro, who directed some of my all-time favorite anime, such as Natsume Yuujinchou, Durarara, Baccano, and Hotarubi no Mori e; 2) the screenplay is done by Sadayuki Murai, another favorite who has also worked alongside Omori-kantoku-san and was also the one behind Sidonia no Kishi’s series composition; and 3) the entire synopsis just sounds...soo good?? Not to mention that short PV-like thing they released way back when

OK, yes, I’m not fluent in Japanese, but the music and Hiroki’s voice acting really caught me.

However, time passed, and there was no word on the anime at all until it was announced that the anime was pushed back until the winter season of 2020. Now, I still had my initial hype, but I also had my doubts. It probably had production issues and so on. Things like that often don’t bring their best to the table and ends up becoming a disappointment. It showed on the first episode.

That episode was weird. I read what people thought about it on some forums and none gave me a positive image of the anime. But I thought, what the heck? There’s no harm on checking it. Though it wasn’t entirely bad, it was weird, and I had no idea what was happening. There was so much going on and the art felt a bit weird and the story seemed all over the place and I thought, ah, it shows.

My impression of it was: this show seems like it will have a good story, but not until some time later, so maybe I should wait for several more weeks and binge-watch it then. However, I came to learn that episode 2 was much better than its predecessor. It cleared up any kind of confusion and erased some doubts. It piqued my interest again. And now that I have finally caught up with the show, I am glad that I did not drop it. 

Because so far, Pet is amazing.

Since it’s been two weeks since I saw the first episode, it took a while to grasp the meaning of the terms and so on, but once I’ve got it, it was quite easy to get absorbed inside the show. There were a few time jumps and technical terms were thrown all over the place, and I needed to remind myself that is the director who made Baccano and Durarara. Durarara had a relatively continuous timeline, but the way it jumped POVs in those first few episodes were quite baffling and you only understood what was what much later on. Baccano was crazier imo, as I read that, unlike the light novels, Omori-san took the liberty to rearrange the story in the anime to make it so that there are several stories set in different timelines in one episode, and there are those terms and whatnot and though it makes a good mystery, it doesn’t make much sense, until that one episode where everything finally clicks into place.

I have a similar problem with Pet. I can see that the story so far is intriguing. We have these “crushers” and then “pets” and then loci in the minds containing memories, divided into “peaks” and “valleys”. And then there are “images”, which I think is some kind of protection armor? A form they take to get inside other people without letting themselves be consumed by the other’s memories and feelings. Aside from that, we have a “Company” with people who have the ability to get inside other people’s minds and alter memories. What’s worse is that we’re immediately dumped in the middle of the action with not much introduction, so all we can do is just sit tight and hang on, hoping for the best that everything will make sense in the end.

And then of course, we have our enigmatic characters.

First up, Hiroki, your shounen character in a serious drama. The longer I listen to him, the more annoyed I am haha. I don’t know. His voice kind of irritates me. Maybe because he’s this naive kid with a strong ability that doesn’t really understand what’s happening around him. And then there is that dependence toward Tsukasa, whom I will get to after this. Episode 3 makes me like him though. His heart is clearly in the right place, just that he’s in a bad environment, so he doesn’t know what to do. He is the character who will question the righteousness of their actions. I believe he hates his abilities, but using it has been ingrained into his body that sometimes, he’s unconsciously using it. Like when he almost got inside Katsuragi’s head, or when he showed the girl in episode 3 what her boyfriend was like (though it was partly his imagery of him, and he knew that and that’s why he was so conflicted when she came back). I can imagine what his childhood must have been like. Probably shunned. Probably lonely. Much like how Satoru had been before Hayashi “saved” him. And then Tsukasa came, who showed him how to protect himself and to utilize his powers. Tsukasa was his savior. That’s why in episode 2, though he was reluctant to kill, he also wanted to show Tsukasa that he could do it. They didn’t have to kill. He could save this man using his powers. he wanted to prove himself to Tsukasa. I am amazed that his heart has not been tainted, and I have high hopes for his character.

Next, we have Tsukasa. Even from the posters, this guy already looked fishy. In the first episode, there’s something off about him. He’s just too good. Too accommodating toward Hiroki. Hiroki wants something, then he’s going to give it. Hiroki says not to go with Satoru. All right, I won’t go with Satoru. Hiroki wants a shop. Here, this is for you, but I used the Company’s money, so I’m going to have to pay them back by doing jobs for them. Yeah I know you told me you don’t want to do any more of them, but I’ll be the one doing them, not you. You just need to sit tight and work on your little shop. You know that’s not what Hiroki meant. Still, I like him. So far, he’s a cool character, and I like him even more on his solo job in episode 3. But what I love the most is:

That smirk! Because yes, all this time, all we’ve seen are his facades. His facade when he is with Hiroki. His facade with Katsuragi. His facade when he does a job. And then we have this moment, this small moment, and much like how that small moment with the girl who buys guppies and her boyfriend builds up Hiroki’s character, this small moment between Katsuragi and Tsukasa, when Katsuragi tells him that his next job will be Hayashi and Tsukasa pauses for a moment before asking if Hayashi has been found, it speaks volume. Because then finally Tsukasa shows us his true self (or, at least, part of his true self). His tone changes. He scolds Katsuragi for being happy or pleased.

You seem strangely happy for someone who was outwitted for two whole years.

Tsukasa is clearly talking down to him. Katsuragi, who we thought was the boss. Katsuragi, who was the jerk who would kill people to get the job done quickly. He is surprised at the sudden change and becomes visibly nervous. He stiffens and keeps his eyes on the road. Tsukasa goes on to give orders to Katsuragi. Then Katsuragi nervously puts out his cigarette and says, somewhat formally, “Understood.” (though he’s just saying “hai” in Japanese, but it’s vastly different from the Katsuragi we know in the last two episodes). He obeys Tsukasa. 

I did wonder if Katsuragi was under Tsukasa’s control, but it didn’t seem like it. Heck, Tsukasa might actually be one of the Company’s higher-ups (or he might even be the Head of the Company, if I want to stretch it). And then we have that split-second smirk, that shows he is in complete control of the situation. It makes sense with how he refers to Hiroki as his “pet” in such an off-handed manner. It also makes sense with how he makes cold, calculating judgment. Of course he’s using the Company’s money to buy the shop. Of course he’s still doing odd jobs for the Company. He’s not the good guy he shows Hiroki he is.

Right now, I can actually see Tsukasa being the “big bad boss” of the series, if this series has any kind of villain. Or, well, I think he’d make a pretty good anti-hero. Just imagine a showdown between Tsukasa and Hiroki... So far, I am most intrigued with Tsukasa and I hope he will have a great arc.

[annelixa]

Trust Chapter 8

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Can also be read on AO3

Summary: Cassandra seeks Varian shortly after she stole the Moonstone so that she can use his intellectual gifts. Lucky for her, no one seems to be telling him what happened at the Dark Kingdom and he still sees her as the wise and trusted person he always knew. Utilizing that image of herself, she takes him for herself while under the guise of protection.

Fandom: Tangled the Series

Before the Sun had risen that morning, Cass had slipped out of the cottage. She wasn’t worried about Varian wondering where she gone at this point. With all she had to do, she didn’t spend too much time in the small cottage with him so he was used to it. Instead of looking for her, he’d go to the kitchen to find a note explaining when she should expect to return. They had started the system weeks ago and it was working well for them.

Not wasting any time, she jumped into the balloon that she had prepared the previous night and slowly rose into the sky with her mentor at her side. Currently the girl was leaning against the side, examining her gloves.

“What is your plan exactly?” she asked.

“It’ll be simple,” the warrior replied, sure of herself. “I know what the Keeper looks like so I’ll disguise myself as him using that cloak you told me about then question her about the location of the Mind Trap. Calliope is easy to fool and if I lure her into a false sense of security, she’ll simply lead us to what we want.” Cass quickly checked the hot air balloon’s controls to make sure they were functioning properly. “We should be in and out in less than half an hour.” She paused for a moment then rolled her eyes. “An hour at the longest. It depends on how much she talks.”

The girl had approved and the rest of the trip was spent in silence.

Sneaking into the Keeper’s home had been simple and the cloak had been spotted only seconds after entering; it was the only cloak in sight. It was slipped on and she felt an odd tingling as her form change to appear as the aged Keeper of the Spire. Her bones lengthened to reach his taller height but also weakened, especially in her back as she hunched over slightly. The form was not comfortable, she felt strange aches and pains all over her body and it kept trying to fold in on itself seemingly only from her meager weight. This Keeper really needed to get some exercise before he dropped, she thought. Trying to hurry things up, she hobbled over to the door and slammed it closed. If Calliope was home, she would surely hear that and come to investigate.

On cue, the short woman suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, running down them.

“Keeper!” she called, excited to see her mentor.

Cass forced a smile onto the Keeper’s face, trying to make it look as sincere as possible as the other woman’s voice already threatened to annoy her.

“Good morning, Calliope,” she called kindly. “I came to check in on you. I’ve heard rumors of thieves in the area and wanted to make sure and our artifacts were safe.”

“Thieves?” the student cried indignantly. “Well I can promise you they haven’t gotten in here. I’ve been keeping everything safe.”

She started to walk around the room, indicating and explaining several items. Starting to lose her patience, Cass cut her off.

“It does seem that all seems to be in place here but what about in the Spire? You are aware we keep the most important and dangerous artifacts in there. If any were to go missing, it would be disastrous.”

She tried to mimic the way the other believed the word was meant to be pronounced. It seemed to work because Calliope didn’t comment on it or find anything off. Instead, she hurried to lead them to the top. Lucky for Cass, she seemed to have learned a faster way up from the real Keeper and the climb did not take nearly as long as the previous trip.

“Here we are!” she announced, stopping in front of the large doors. A key was pulled off her belt and used to unlock the doors. They stepped inside and the pair started to check that nothing was missing. Cass picked up a small box and behind her, her mentor confirmed this was the box they were searching for. She called the woman over.

“Calliope. We must make sure that the Mind Trap is still here. We cannot allow it to fall into the wrong hands.”

Nodding, another key was fished out and the box popped open only moments later. A fake sigh of relief escaped her mouth as she stared at the object she had come to steal. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her mentor reach forward and knock one of the artifacts to the ground. Surprised, Calliope spun on her heel to see what had happened. Using her momentary distraction, the warrior slipped the blue stone from the box and hid it under the cloak. Closing the box, she set it back on its shelf and approached the student.

Calliope was picking up a small orb and setting it carefully back on the correct shelf.

“Thank goodness that didn’t shatter,” Cass called.

“Seriously,” Calliope agreed, going on to explain what the artifact did but Cass didn’t pay attention. She had what she came for and was ready to get back before she was discovered.

“Everything appears to still be here. Good work, Calliope. I feel the Spire is safe in your hands.” Brightening at the compliment, Calliope didn’t even think to double check the box she had opened. “I must leave you here though. I still have much to do and you have to return to your studies.”

The pair left the large vault, the student securely locking the door once more, before separating.

A grin crossed Cass’ face as she returned to where she had stored the balloon. All went according to plan.

* * *

The Sun was high in the sky as she stepped back into the cottage. Once again, Varian was waiting for her, Ruddiger wrapped around his neck.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted which he returned.

“I’ve been working hard,” Varian started. “I designed some new halberds that shouldn’t break so easily.”

Smiling at him, she ruffled his hair.

“I look forward to seeing it.” From a pocket of the cloak she still had draped around her shoulders, she retrieved the large stone. “We need to keep this safe. My father snuck it to me this morning. He said that it’s an old royal family heirloom that they were worried could be stolen. It’s a very powerful magical artifact that could be devastating if used against them.” She held it out to him and he was able to study the stone closer. It was light blue with a symbol of some kind etched into it. It seemed familiar but he couldn’t place it. “Since we are in an impenetrable building they thought it would be safe with us. Can you put this in my room while I see what you made today?” she asked sincerely.

Excited to be trusted with something so significant, Varian grabbed the stone and hurried to her room. It was carefully placed on what he assumed to be her desk. He started to turn to leave the room when something caught his eye.

Something was laying on the floor, somewhat concealed by the bed. Normally he wasn’t one to dig through other people’s belongings but an odd thought was nagging at him.

Crossing the room quickly, he grabbed a crumpled piece of paper and straightened it out.

His own face stared up at him under the word ‘Missing’.

Shocked, he nearly dropped the paper.

“Varian?” he heard Cass call from behind him and he turned to face her in a daze. “You did a good job today. Can you help me move it to the door so I can take it to Raps?”

The young alchemist’s mind didn’t even register what she had said, too focused on the paper.

“Cass, what’s this?” he asked slowly, afraid of the answer.

“What?” She looked at the paper in his hands. “Oh that?” She laughed. “It’s nothing! You left suddenly and since you’ve been here for the last few weeks, people haven’t seen you in a while and some got nervous that the Saporians had gotten to you. Rapunzel smoothed the whole thing out. Don’t worry!”

Still confused, he asked, “Then why do you have it?”

“I thought it was something you might want for later. Something you could laugh at once the Saporians are caught. The rest were all torn down already and I was lucky to find this one.”

“Okay…”

Sensing his unease, she continued, “Come on. Let’s get everything moved then we can have some dinner. That’ll make you feel better.”

Nodding, he watched Cass leave the room. He took one last glance at the paper and shoved it into his pocket before hurrying after her.

All that he had created that morning was dragged to the door while Cass moved it outside to where he assumed she would store it until she could get it to Rapunzel. After everything was moved, Cass thanked him and closed the entrance. With a smirk, she walked to a large shed also constructed from the rocks that was out of Varian’s sight.

She parted the rocks and smiled.

In front of her, stretching for hundreds of yards, was everything that Varian had built so far. Things were going smoothly.

[fangirllifu]

Sweet Like Pudding Ch. 13

Italics - thoughts

Turns out Yaku didn't have to worry about anything. He should've prepared himself instead. Sure they had an inkling that she was skilled, not a lot of people were able to respond to the Freak Quick on the first encounter, but she did and so perfectly at that.

Yesterday's short game allowed them a glimpse of what she could do. But it was so much of an understatement, it was almost laughable. The game started pretty slow. Nobody was yet used to the line ups, so they were still testing waters. Mistakes were inevitable. But when dealing with hormonal teenage boys with huge-ass prides, it's bound to be one hell of a ride.

It happened just after the second time-out of the first set was called. Asahi had called for a toss. As Akaashi set the ball, Lev moved to block. But he had jumped too early, his block wouldn't make it. So she ran and jumped, gritting her teeth as she lightly collided with Lev.

She couldn't block for the life of her, but she could most definitely change the course of the ball to make it easy for the others to pick it up. She smirked in satisfaction as she heard Yaku receive the ball.

"Bless him and his incredible reflexes."

Her smirk became a full blown grin once the ball Koutaro spiked landed right in the middle of the opposite court.

Meanwhile, Lev was shaking in anxiety. He'd just been told to watch the timing of his jump and yet he still messed it up.

"I'm going to get yelled at."

"OI LEV—" Yaku called to his visibly trembling kouhai, only to be interrupted.

Kanna delivered a loud and very painful strike to Lev's back. No words were exchanged as she made her way back to her position. And just like that, Lev felt so overwhelmed that tears were threatening to fall. He knew, as well as the others that that gesture by no means meant that his mistake was forgiven. But that if he ever made any, she'll be there to back him up.

Yaku, along with the rest of their team stared at Kanna's back in astonishment. That simple action wasn't meant for Lev only. It was a clear message to the rest of the team, the same goes for them.

"Such a small body and yet so dependable."

They thought, as determined grins broke on their faces.

"We can't leave all the hard parts to her now can we."

The opposing team watched this all happen in wonder. The Bokuto cousins sure do have the super power to lift up morale in the team without even doing anything special.

"Truly troublesome."

Determination only wasn't enough to win a game. Kanna's team had lost the set. Although the momentum of the previous set was with Team B, at the start of the second set, Kanna's Team soon took control. With a renewed and calculated attack strategy, they won the second set with a 5 point difference.

As the second set ended, the coaches came together to discuss what has happened so far. They agreed that it was a good thing that at the end of the first set, Bokuto gave his cousin free reign on the team. The change was instant. The coaches couldn't believe what they were seeing. And immediately regretted on not taking into account that possibility, they would have missed out on something truly outstanding.

The Bokuto cousins were truly on a level of their own. But unlike her male counterpart who leads his team to victory by continuously pushing for points, Kanna leads her team on by strengthening any holes that appear while within game. She might as well be the living embodiment of what Kageyama once hoped to be, a one-man team.

Her awareness on court, from her teammates to the opposing team, is remarkable. She has the speed and technique to greatly utilize her incredible game sense, and she adapts. Adapts so fluidly that it's frightening, enough to make a chill run up their spines. But that's just what these boys need.

But the coaches had a feeling that not all of her cards were on the table. Even though they couldn't wait to see what more she has in store, the shock to actually witness it was still huge.

It happened on the third set, just after Kanna's team achieved the set point. The opposing team managed to make Kageyama take the first touch, which scrambled their formation. They all watched as Kanna ran in position to receive the ball, expecting her to simply return the ball back over the net, when the unexpected happened.

As she was reaching her position below the ball, she called "Kageyama!"

Kageyama, albeit startled, immediately reacted upon instinct and ran to spike. Once he was in the air awaiting the ball, Kanna tossed. She watched in satisfaction as the ball made contact with Kageyama's palm, and proceeded to land precisely where she knew the opposing team wouldn't be guarding with a resounding thud. A satisfied grin broke on her face as the whistle blew, calling their point and ending the match.

Kanna walked towards Kageyama and slapped his back as she complimented him with a, "Nice Spike Kageyama-kun!"

Her action seemingly broke whatever spell over came the group, as Koutarou ran to squeeze the two in his embrace, followed by the others on his tail. By some miracle Kanna managed to escape just in time to not be trapped by her giant of a cousin, Kageyama though, was not so fortunate.

Kanna's Team had won the first game with a 2:1. Her grin was as big as Koutarou's. She couldn't help but be consumed by the adrenaline of playing volleyball. Koutarou was right. She truly did love this sport, no matter how much she tried to say otherwise.

They take a 30 minute break after the game for Kanna's sake, as she isn't used to playing as rigorous as she used too. While she sat down catching her breath, the other gathered to discuss the game that just took place. Discuss was a pretense though, as they all looked too lost in a daze to even begin.

The Shinzen and Ubugawa boys looked at them with sympathy, for they felt it too even if they weren't actively playing with them.

"Damn Bokuto what's your cousin made of?" said Kuroo, breaking the silence as he wiped his face of sweat.

"With the way she played you wouldn't even think, much less believe that she hasn't played in years." Kageyama said, dumbfounded as he still couldn't believe what just happened.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" asked Tsukishima as he turned directly at Akaashi. Akaashi's affirming nod did nothing to quell their anxieties and only made them groan in frustration.

"Did you see the way she handled that screw up?" Sawamura asked.

"Which one though?" Yaku inquired.

"I would have to agree with that one. She quite literally saved our asses on more than one occasion." Tsukishima surprisingly complimented.

"That toss she sent to Kageyama-san was perfect too." said Akaashi.

"Yeah, I still have goose bumps." Sugawara said, causing the others to absentmindedly nod their heads in agreement while the event replayed in their minds.

"So what do we do?" asked Sawamura.

Hearing the continuous compliments being dished by his peers towards his precious baby owl, Koutarou glowed with unabashed pride. His whole body was buzzing with barely contained excitement, satisfied that she was getting the recognition she so rightfully deserved. His eyes softened as he turned to Kanna happily chatting with the managers. She truly did glow when she played volleyball. He'd do everything in his power to keep that smile on her face, no matter what.

Notes:

The progress is slow, I know. I'm sorry. But I really wanted to showcase the characters, so I had no other choice. Just bear with me for a few chapters please.

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[dweemeister]

Movie Odyssey Retrospective

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

On December 21, 1937, Hollywood’s stars and executives strode a blue carpet ushering them into a packed Carthay Circle Theatre in Los Angeles. The chilly night air typified expectations of the film premiering that evening. This was a premiere unlike any other, one for an animated feature film. During the silent film era and first decade of talkies, animated film evolved from simple gag drawings to endowing animated characters with personalities to character-driven short films heavy on slapstick (think Looney Tunes). For Walt Disney, supervising director David Hand, and the band of underpaid animators that they oversaw, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (the first cel-animated feature film; the oldest-surviving animated feature is from 1926 and the first animated feature is now lost) was a statement of purpose – an artistic culmination stemming from the Mickey Mouse shorts and especially the Silly Symphony series. But on the night of the premiere, Walt, Hand, and the animators that were invited or purchased a ticket had no clue how the audience would receive their work. With a fortune invested in the movie’s production, “Disney’s Folly” was predicted to be financially ruinous.

The lights dimmed. The audience found themselves entranced by the opening shot of the Queen’s castle; they applauded the background art when no animation was on the screen; they laughed at the dwarfs’ antics and adored the childlike Snow White. Then came Snow White’s presumed death. As her body rested in a glass coffin and the dwarfs and woodland animals tended to her wake, Walt, Hand, and the animators looked around the theater in disbelief. The calculating Hollywood executives, the pampered actors, and the cynical journalists and film reviewers sniffed their noses, some openly weeping. “Love’s first kiss” be damned; the animators, Hand, and Walt had triumphed. Walt’s dream of making animated cinema as dramatically and emotionally impactful as any live-action film had been realized. Securing the studio’s future to the temporary relief of Roy O. Disney (who managed the studio’s finances so often overspent by Walt), Snow White began the most important and accomplished run of consecutive animated features in history. By the end of that run with Bambi (1942), seldom would any animated films in the decades that followed achieve that mix of dramatic and emotional power without condescending to its audience.

I sometimes wonder about what it must have been like to be present when the Lumière brothers’ The Arrival of a Train at La Ciotat (1896 short film, France) premiered to an audience that, according to some accounts, panicked and dove out of the way as the train moved closer to the camera. Or when Atlanta Mayor William B. Hartsfield organized three days of celebration prior to the whites-only premiere of Gone with the Wind (1939). These are moments where the spectators could rightfully say they had never seen anything like the film they had watched. The same is true with Snow White’s premiere.

The Silly Symphony series allowed Walt’s animators to experiment with techniques that might be used in a feature film; the multiplane camera introduced during these short films provided depth and dimension, infusing backgrounds with atmosphere to influence emotion. Snow White utilized the multiplane camera to create the grandeur of the Queen’s castle and, perhaps most astonishingly, capturing Snow White’s disorientation and fear after the Huntsman – ordered by the Queen to murder the Fairest of Them All – spares her, beseeching her to flee. During Snow White’s flight, the lighting, fast-moving multiplane camera effects (blink or you will miss them), and the personification of nature as she descends deeper into the forest can be attributed to the innovations of Silly Symphonies, particularly The Old Mill (1937 short). The techniques found in this scene alone (yes, this includes those mysterious eyes in the dark and mossy trees that bear human faces) continue to influence countless animated films and television shows. It is magnificent artwork in any era, deserving to be taught frame-by-frame to those aspiring to make animated cinema.

The expenses taken to make Snow White required that character designs and movements portray only what is essential. Characters are designed and move in a way that helps them act in their scenes. With little experience in animating humans prior to Snow White, the title character (designed by Charles Thorson, who left Disney in protest for Warner Bros. to design Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd) and the Prince’s facial movements occasionally awkward. The Queen, who becomes larger than life with her flowing black and red cloak, is imposing – before and after drinking her transfiguring formula. But the best work is animation supervisor Fred Moore’s (pre-donkey Lampwick from 1940’s Pinocchio, Timothy Q. Mouse in 1941’s Dumbo) character design for the seven dwarfs. If one had no idea of each dwarf’s name – Doc, Grumpy, Sleepy, Happy, Bashful, Sneezy, and Dopey – prior to watching Snow White, their personalities could be guessed even without audio or motion. Their features would be terrifying in live-action, but the audience has already accepted their design because they have suspended their disbelief in magic mirrors and a princess who is understood by animals. Their body shapes and exaggerated facial features (nobody in real life has a nose like Grumpy; no drowsy person’s eyelids stay that half-shut like Sleepy’s) make each dwarf distinct, allowing the audience to recognize which dwarf is which without much confusion.

The famous “Heigh-Ho” sets this table early. When animator Shamus Culhane (a Bray Productions animator during the silent era; an uncredited co-director on 1941’s Mr. Bug Goes to Town from Fleischer Studios) was assigned the sequence where the dwarfs march home, it took him and his assistants a half-year to complete the animation. With direction from Hand and Moore, Culhane was directed to have the dwarfs march to the tempo of the musical number, but to bestow each with their own physicality. For a moment that lasts less than fifty seconds within a song, Culhane and his assistants’ painstaking labors set the standard of granular detail and individuality that the animating teams working on Snow White took upon themselves. Snow White’s seven dwarfs are brilliant comic actors, prancing in front of gorgeous watercolor backgrounds. The character design practices implemented in Snow White were improved on each entry of Disney’s Golden Age (which I demarcate as Snow White to Bambi). This development saw the early Disney animated features – along with the best Technicolor films of the 1930s and ‘40s such as The Wizard of Oz (1939) – become instrumental in setting Western cinema’s color coding, where characters and backgrounds express ideas and emotions in conjunction with character and production design.

As Snow White is a fairy tale, so it has the logic of one. In a time where filmmakers and audiences obsess over plot rather than character-driven emotion and themes, viewers could be taken aback by how abruptly Snow White changes moods and the title character’s behavior. Snow White has been ridiculed by some feminist critics, but I find that many of their justified concerns about the character – from her unprompted cleaning of the dwarfs’ house and her pining for a handsome man to whisk her away upholding gendered roles – are too often based on the assumption that she is a woman and that this film was intended for children. That is incorrect on both counts. Snow White in the original Grimm fairytale is a child, and in Disney’s version she has been thankfully aged up to (or is on the cusp of becoming) an adolescent. Walt made a film appealing to people of any age, hoping that its humor and pathos could be accessible to all.

Snow White, a young girl who has known nothing but submission to her stepmother, the Queen, is quite naïve, knowing little of the dangers outside the castle walls. Her stepmother’s obsession of physical beauty has influenced how she thinks, especially as she seeks personal validation from others (be it the Prince or the dwarfs). In the context in which she was raised, her passivity is understandable. Even if that means Snow White is a passive, unambitious character, her gentleness, which remains after the trauma with the Huntsman, is what makes her the fairest of them all. Characters act the way they do because of her compassion. Snow White, with her romantic longings, probably should not be emulated, but she sets the template that the most fascinating Disney animated heroines have built on.

One of the common themes in fairy tales is the assumption of increasing responsibilities as an individual matures. Though far more obvious in Pinocchio and Bambi (the latter is not a fairy tale), this dynamic also exists in Snow White. With the Queen’s physical and sexual withering, it is Snow White’s time, the film implies, to become an adult – adulthood arrives at differing times among human cultures. Her interactions with the dwarfs serve as a kind of rehearsal for adulthood, effectuated the moment the Prince revives her. These adult responsibilities are communicated through the gendered lens of mainstream 1930s filmmakers. When a female character is the star in a Disney animated canon film, how these responsibilities are portrayed and related to the protagonist depend on how each film’s writers understood gendered roles of their respective eras – the submissiveness of the 1930s; the corporate (in the negative sense), sloganeering feminism of the 2010s; and the rare exceptions. No matter the Disney animated film, those themes of one’s duties in the natural order are omnipresent across the canon. Such lessons are not only for children. Don’t let those dismissive of animated cinema (especially if they think that film history can be written without the Disney animated canon) tell you otherwise.

Musical films became possible after the introduction of synchronized sound, which heralded the end of the silent film era. In the early talkie years, studios – looking to experiment with sound – saturated theaters with musicals. Across the 1930s, the popularity of the genre rose and fell. Snow White arrived at a low tide for musicals, with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ partnership nearing its end and Shirley Temple, though still a massive draw, approaching her teenage years. Yet 1937 proved one of the most important years in musical film history, as those that adored Snow White linked animated features with musicals (the fact that Snow White boasted the world’s first soundtrack album for a film also helped). It is not coincidental that when Fleischer Studios set forth on Gulliver’s Travels (1939) – distributed by Paramount – as their response to Snow White, that film was also a musical. This link has proven resilient to the present day – pointless and unimaginative metatextual scoffing aside.

The creators of this early Disney sound are composer Frank Churchill (numerous Disney shorts and features from 1930 until Bambi) and lyricist Larry Morey (select shorts and Bambi) on the songs and composers Paul J. Smith (Pinocchio and 1954’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea) and Leigh Harline (Pinocchio, Mr. Bug Goes to Town) for the score. Despite the audio quality showing its age and the somewhat limited orchestra, the collective musical work is sublime, representing one of the greatest musical movie soundtracks as well as one of the best film scores of all time.

After a grand overture from Smith and Harline, “I’m Wishing/One Song”, considered a single song with two halves, is sung by Snow White (Adriana Caselotti and her distinctive high-pitched voice that is perfect for the character), then the Prince (Henry Stockwell). Simple are the lyrics. In a world of love at first sight, we learn so much about Snow White, the Prince, and the Queen in just three minutes. Delicate strings and a subtle harp line reflect Snow White’s longing and the Prince’s passion (listen closely to the score from start to finish and you’ll hear a rare film score where the harpist does plenty of emotional heavy lifting). The second half, “One Song” introduces us all too briefly to Stockwell’s beautiful singing voice – a type of voice that would all but disappear from popular music after the 1930s ended – and lyrics that, to reiterate, seem simple but are tremendously evocative.

One song I have but one song One song Only for you

One heart Tenderly beating Ever entreating Constant and true

Other musical highlights appear as Snow White flees into the forest (a dynamic example of action scoring in a Disney animated film), as well as her accompaniment through the forest by the woodland animals with, “A Smile and a Song”. Soon after, “Whistle While You Work” appears as the film is barely thirty minutes in. “Heigh-Ho” follows immediately after that. Snow White is packed with hit songs that have gained pop culture cachet outside the film. The weakest song in Snow White might be “Dwarf’s Washing Song”, which adds nothing to the dwarfs’ characterization but exemplifies how committed the musical team are in supporting the animators’ use of slapstick. When articulating the Queen’s villainy and second act transformation, Smith and Harline depend on string tremolos and churning strings and brass to reflect her whirlwind of fury.

Snow White’s signature song speaks to her nascent romantic desires. In the film’s greater subtext, it is also about her coming of age, the end of childhood, to take her place in what she believes is the natural order of things. “Someday My Prince Will Come”, in a slow three-quarter time evoking a Strauss waltz, allows Caselotti to breathe. Listen to Caselotti’s musical phrasing. In each luftpause, Churchill’s music and Morey’s lyrics allow the lines to rise and fall between two words, imbuing each bar with torrents of feeling. The same thing exists in “I’m Wishing/One Song”, to breathtaking results. “Someday My Prince Will Come” is popular among jazz musicians due to its chord structure, becoming a jazz standard when a Jewish band named the Ghetto Swingers, taking inspiration in the song’s hope for happier days ahead, performed the song at Theresienstadt concentration camp in 1943.

No one composes songs like “Someday My Prince Will Come” or “I’m Wishing/One Song” in films anymore – yes, I realize how trite that statement is – as modern composers and lyricists working in musical films/theater oftentimes try to fill out a meter with a repeated lyric (which, to my ears, is an admission of creative surrender) or, more interestingly to yours truly, rely more on ballad-like tunes. The voices of Caselotti and Stockwell lend well to the compositions they sing – reminiscent of Jeanette MacDonald and Nelson Eddy’s musical movies at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) in the 1930s. The partnership of Churchill, Morey, Smith, and Harline produced a stunning musical gift to audiences, setting the Disney musical sound that would last through the mid-century.

As the attendees of Snow White’s premiere left in jubilation, few could have imagined how complete Disney’s victory would be. Charlie Chaplin extolled the film as surpassing even his wildest expectations; esteemed director Cecil B. DeMille expressed his desire to make films like Snow White. Hugh Harman and Rudolf Ising, who founded Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies for Warner Bros. and were currently Disney’s rivals at MGM, sent a telegram: “Our pride in the production is scarcely less than yours must be and we are grateful to you for fulfilling an ambition which many of us have long held for our industry.” In Europe, the admiration was just as vocal. Snow White’s native Germany received Disney’s adaptation ecstatically; the nation’s then-leader – soon to set Europe and North Africa aflame – considered it a great cinematic achievement. In the Soviet Union, the state media praised the dwarfs for reflecting communist ideals; outside of the Kremlin’s propagandists, no less than Sergei Eisenstein – the director of the most infamous massacre scene in cinematic history – proclaimed Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as the greatest film ever made.

After cinemagoers made Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs the highest-grossing film of all time when adjusting for inflation, Walt Disney, David Hand, and their crewmembers knew that the world’s expectations for animated feature films had been raised to unimaginable heights. The studio – soon to be housed in a Burbank headquarters designed and constructed thanks to the profits from Snow White – continued to make short films including Mickey Mouse and friends, but short films would no longer be its focus. The Disney animators soon set themselves to work on four history-altering films: a wooden boy who learns selflessness and integrity, a “concert feature”, a pachyderm who triumphs because of his difference, and the growth of the Young Prince of the Forest. Despite the financial windfall of Snow White, Disney did not distribute their own films – RKO distributed all Disney (which did not become a major studio until the 1990s) films until 1956 – and Snow White was the only Golden Age Disney film that was an immediate financial success upon release (the others would recoup their costs after 1945).

During Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs’ release and in the years immediately after, the world was shattered by violence and remade. Like its fellow great films of the 1930s, Snow White provided solace to those seeking escape from global forces beyond their control. But few of its contemporaries could be said to have been as influential. Almost every animated film – no matter its origin, style, or year released – owes something to Snow White. Animated film has existed since the nineteenth century and there were animated features before its release. Cinema is one of the youngest of artforms, but the mythos of Snow White does not look likely to change. It is the beginning of animated cinema as we know it.

My rating: 10/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was upgraded from an initial score of 9/10. It is the one hundred and sixtieth feature-length or short film I have rated a ten on imdb.

This is the fourteenth Movie Odyssey Retrospective. Movie Odyssey Retrospectives are reviews on films I had seen in their entirety before this blog’s creation or films I failed to give a full-length write-up to following the blog’s creation. Previous Retrospectives include Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (1939), Dumbo (1941), and Oliver! (1968).

NOTE: This is the 700th full-length Movie Odyssey review I have published on tumblr.

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna 15

Getting down to the crumbs in the bottom of the bag, I think. @chenoahchantel @henry-p-fart Y’all are the only ones that I heard back from the past chapter. It’s all on y’all now. Let me know how quickly I gotta end this, since it’s just y’all two sticking around.

Priorities and Boundaries

Henry had meetings with his production team before any of his appointments. They… didn’t go as he would have hoped. 

“So, Henry… As we all know, the recordings have taken somewhat of a turn in the past few weeks and we only have a few more weeks of recording before we take everything into production. We need to know what it is you want us to create with what we’ve been given.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. “The stuff is right there. A look at my life and what matters to me. A look at who I am.”

“Right, but the premise of this show was supposed to be who you are outside of these people, and all you’ve done is manage to show how much you can’t live without them. Now, if we’re making a reality show about your road to poly love, that’s one thing, but if this is supposed to be Dr. Henry Hart, out of the shadows of his Swellview contacts, you haven’t given us much to work with. Not to mention the heinously under-utilized opportunity we had to include Chloe and Bianca in this journey. We need more scenes with them, more footage of them, less footage of Charlotte and Jasper, more individual Henry, and for individual Henry to give us some of his juicier stuff from earlier in recording.”

“There was never anything juicy. I’ve been being myself the whole time. I can give you solo stuff, but I’m mostly in the Man Cave whenever I’m not in an appointment or with Char and Jasper.”

“THAT’S the problem. You spend too much time with them and not enough time giving us good content. Nobody is gonna watch a show about a sex doctor who is as fucked up as his clientele sexually and nobody is going to take relationship advice from a therapist that they discover is only just finding himself romantically, UNLESS you show us that despite these things, he is well rounded and capable. So far… You’ve managed to make yourself look even more inept than ever before and far more dependent than anybody would have guessed.”

“I’m finally in a healthy relationship again. I feel human. That’s my truth.”

“Okay… But… There’s more to your truth. What if… You unmasked?”

“If what.” Henry said it with no facial expression or tone of voice. Surely, they were joking.

“We feel like the only thing that could really save this show right now is either a scandal or a sensation. I mean - let’s be honest, Henry. You’re enjoying this relationship right now, but in a few months, you’ll be bored of them and want more. You’ll remember how orgies felt and like and you. Will. Cheat. You’re not going to remain in this relationship and therefore… you shouldn’t prioritize it over the success of this show that you’ve put a lot of time and money into, and WE have put a lot into as well! We should work together on making a marketable product out of Henry Hart.”

“Dr. Henry Hart,” he said. “And… the product is as it is.”

“Well, the product is defective, then!” Grumpy Cat said and got up. “Listen, you two can do this with him, but I’m not putting other projects on hold for something that all of the professionals in the room see going down the toilet.” 

He stormed out and Henry conferenced to the doorman, “Gooch, make sure that you collect all of Tyson’s things. He’s saying goodbye to this operation.”

“Acknowledged,” the young Gooch said. 

Henry stood up, walked over to the door and locked it, cracked his knuckles and said, “I understand that there may be some frustrations about how things have turned out. I had a certain plan in mind for this project, as well. Have things changed, definitely? But, my goals haven’t. So, maybe, just maybe there is no unknown Henry Hart outside of his friends. But, whoever I am, that’s who you show. And, sure - if you want to try to film with Chloe and Bianca, I can’t stop you, but I don’t really have any reason to say anything more to either of them and my partners don’t, either. One thing that I need for both of you to understand at this moment is this fact - whenever your team met me, I didn’t have anything to lose, because I had lost everything, twice. I wasn’t loved and I wasn’t attached. There were boundaries that I never established, because I honestly couldn’t have cared less. What you need to now understand is that I’ve gotten my world back. In abundance. I’ve got boundaries now. I have priorities. So, say your piece, do your dance - whatever you feel like needs to be said or done, but I will in turn do what I feel like I have to do to protect my world. What will never be acceptable is to be on the attack when it comes to either of the two of them, and God help you, if I feel like you’re a threat to both, or to us…” 

His intercom sounded and Young Gooch reported, “It’s done boss. All of the subjects’ Kid Danger and Mr. Feelgood memories have been removed from the revelation point through the present…” Both remaining members of the team gasped and looked at each other in horror.

“Gooooood. Report to Schwoz for a quality assurance survey for the changes in the new and improved memory swiper, please.”

“Got it, Boss.”

Henry noticed that his sleeve was unbuttoned, and casually corrected that. “You.. you stole all of Tyson’s memories of you from the past three years?”

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, fixed his collar and corrected her. “I withdrew the privilege of him knowing my secrets. He gave up on me. He doesn’t deserve them and he signed a waiver specifically detailing that memories would be removed should he leave the operation disgruntled.”

“He was upset! You didn’t even give us a chance to talk some sense into him!”

“I don’t have room for the possibility of him walking out of here and calling the Swellview News. Swellview is way more dangerous than it once was. The secret of my identity can affect the safety of my lovers. I can’t allow it. Thank you guys for this meeting, though. I can’t WAIT to see what other ideas you might come up with for the rest of the show.”

“Well… What… about the announcement? To… to your families?” 

Henry smiled and clapped his hands together once, “See! He’s still thinking. I love it. I’ll talk with the others. You two have a wonderful day.”

.

My parents both think that I am a sexual deviant who, I’m not sure if they think that I went into this line of work to meet all of the nymphos and whatnot in Swellview and surrounding areas, but as I’ve tried to tell them numerous times, having a healthy, even highly populated sex life is completely normal, especially when boundaries are established and agreements are clearly stated. A woman goes to hang out with her friends and everyone talks up a gangbang that she reluctantly agrees to - problematic and possibly assault, depending on the details. A woman WANTS a gangbang and speaks with several friends regarding their desires and compromises, whether she does this only once or forty more times - perfectly healthy. The idea and concept of respecting one’s body and things of that nature are generally steeped in the socialization of the times. Now, the way that we internalize problematic socialization definitely can alter the normalcy of these examples. For instance if the woman in either example grew up watching porn - her viewpoint of a gangbang would be influenced by that. If she grew up in a church and wore a purity ring for all of her adolescence and was given abstinence only sex “education...” If she had no access to porn, but realistic parents and an excellent sex education system… there still would be some remnants of what society says about all of these things, but she would be in the position to make healthy, fulfilling decisions about her body and her sexual interactions. I too am capable of this! My family needs to know that because I have two partners now, that is perfectly safe and healthy… and hopefully, their parents can come to see that, as well. 

.

Charlotte focused on her current records of the most recent findings with her project. There was no good way to tell her mother about Henry and Jasper. Her mother had never been the type of person who would be open to this. For all that she was conscious of and all that she believed Charlotte should have the independence to do… She never would be comfortable or supportive of a polyamorous relationship. She won’t even CALL it that. Whenever Charlotte tried to tell her about before, she said something to the effect of, “That will never last, Honey. It’s hard enough to dedicate your all to one man, much less two.” Charlotte was trying to dedicate her all to two men. Not then, and not now.

What Charlotte did in a relationship was offer her partner a percentage of herself - selected energy, time, space, access, and in turn expected a certain amount from them, and in her mind THAT was the only type of relationship that made any kind of sense! What didn’t make sense to her was that her mom thought that it was reasonable to be the type of person she raised her to be, but also simultaneously commit to another person in such a way that it could be described as “giving her all.”

If I gave my all, what would be left for me? I’m giving you what you deserve, and that itself is on a “if you deserve anything” basis. If you don’t, it’s over. But, never will I ever give my all. That’s reserved for me.

“Jasper… How would you say it? Like, if you and my mom were talking?” She asked. He looked up from his laptop and stared at her for a while, honestly lost, because this conversation came out of nowhere and moments before, he was researching the cosmetic benefits of breast milk. She’d mentioned it and he went down a rabbit hole. Now, he had to focus. What did she ask him? Jasper… How would you say it? Like, if you and my mom were talking? What did that mean? OH!

“Well, I would say, ‘I know that this is a very strange arrangement from the outside looking in, but fortunately for you and your confusion, there’s no necessity for you to understand it. All that is requested is your support and hopefully you don’t have to fully understand someone that you love in order to give them that.”

“WOW! Jasper… That was actually great.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Char. I’m a little bit insulted by your decision to interject the word “actually” into that compliment.”

“Gonna be honest with you, that’s fair. Sorry, Booty Bear. I didn’t mean because of you. I meant because I’ve known my mom my entire life and at least half of that, I’ve been poly and not able to figure it out and not able to figure out how to tell her. Now that I’ve figured it out… Trying to come out to her again, this time in such a serious capacity - it’s terrifying. I just… Know that she’ll disapprove. So the whole angle of the fact that she doesn’t have to get it to support me is just what I need.”

“Well, I never know what you’ve got going on. Whenever you talk about spirituality or science. Whenever you tell me about work and your interests… I try to keep up, but I rarely can, and it never changes what I think of you, how much I love you or support you. So, really, I was simply speaking from my personal experience.”

She held her hand over her heart and moved to go hug him. 

Henry came off of the elevator and smiled at them. “Okay… WITHOUT me?” He joked.

Charlotte unhanded Jasper and his arms missed her already. She told Henry, “Jasper just gave me the basis of my thesis to my mom about our relationship.”

“Really? I thought that I had that covered,” Henry said.

“You have the psychological and health portion, but Jasper has the bottom line. I already know from the last time that “Well, I’m a grown woman and I make my own decisions,” will only lead to it being cited against me for the rest of my life. My mom is Petty Page with everyone but the one person she should have been petty with.”

“Did you just…?” Henry asked.

“I love petty puns,” Charlotte replied.

“Petty White. Petty Wright. Petty Wap. Petty Labelle. Peter Pettygrew. Pettycake, Pettycake Baker’s Man…”

.

Mrs. Page looked really great. Henry hadn’t seen her since he and Charlotte broke up… not like this, anyway. He’d see her around Swellview sometimes and he usually dodged her, because she’d warned him before that if he hurt her daughter, she’d have to hurt his feelings… and Henry didn’t want her hurting his feelings. He’d seen her at the school before, at their job before, out in public when somebody did or said something to Charlotte… She was really good at hurting people’s feelings, and he was someone who had very sensitive feelings, whether or not he would say so… about certain things, at least. Last thing he needed was for her to drag him in the street and talk about stuff that Charlotte might have confided in her with and loud talk him into dying of embarrassment. 

So, any time that he noticed her in town, he hid and fled. He thought he was smooth with it until she opened the door of the house for them and said, “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the front of Henry Hart’s face and not his backside as he tries to run away before I have the chance to read him for filth…” 

He turned red and laughed awkwardly. “It… Is… my face.”

“Hmm,” she said, unimpressed.

“Mama Page,” Jasper said. 

The woman squealed and threw her arms around Jasper and squeezed him very tightly, saying, “Son-in-Law! Now, you know that you can just say “Mama.” Mama Page sounds like one of those old ladies in reality TV and I’m not even trying to have my face on there, much less have a nickname out there, in the world.” She rubbed on his chest and asked in a low voice, “Why do you keep letting my daughter convince you to do crazy things? You know that she’s going through something right now.”

“I can hear you, Mom,” Charlotte said and looked at Henry. 

“Everybody come in,” her mother said. When they were inside, she asked Charlotte, “You still mad at me?”

“I needed you and you refused to help me, but you let Dad be here. I’m not mad at you, but that is what happened and I should be able to feel things about it, whatever those feelings are. Let’s not discuss it again, okay? That’s not what dinner is about tonight.”

Jasper’s parents, Henry’s parents and Charlotte’s dad all were already there. Everyone hugged Charlotte, but Henry only hugged his own parents and Jasper’s mom. Jasper didn’t hug anybody else. Mama Page was enough for him, but he did smile and nod to his parents. 

“The reason that my parents are here is more for solidarity with Henry and Charlotte than for this announcement, or for their support. Whenever Henry and I initially got together, my dad called me a “fruit” and my mom told me that a nice looking boy like Henry was probably just using me, that I needed to find an ugly boy with low self esteem, like she did… And she thought that was a nice thing to say… That it was helpful. So, even though she took care of me when I almost died, speaking to my folks about my relationships isn’t really... a thing I care to do.”

“So, should we all sit for dinner, then?” Mrs. Page asked and let everyone settle into their seats. She and Mr. Hart were seated next to each other, across from Mr. Page and Mrs. Hart. Jasper’s parents were seated next to each other, though he could tell that they weren’t getting along today, and he, Henry and Charlotte were seated across from them, with Charlotte in the middle. “I thought it was weird to arrange this dinner meeting. The last time these three families got together, I think you kids were in junior high.”

“No, we’ve gotten together since then,” Siren said.

“Not with the Dunlops,” Mrs. Page said, and her tone was short with the woman. 

Henry blinked and clapped his hands together once. “Well, we’re all here now, is what really matters. There are things that have been mended and we just would like to celebrate that with all of you.”

“What’s been mended?” Mrs. Page asked, but she was looking at Jasper, a little bit worried.

Henry spoke, since it was he who’d said the thing she was responding to. “Well, Charlotte, Jasper and I no longer have the same negative feelings towards each other that we had not too long ago. We’ve been able to come together and fix things.” He reached for one of each of their hands and leaned over Charlotte to make eye contact with her mother (who was on the other side of Jasper). “I’m making things right between the three of us. Atoning for things that I’ve done to them.”

“Hmm,” she said and glanced at Jake, then at her ex and Siren. “Well, that’s nice, right? Nice that our children are able to fix things, after all of the betrayal and the hurt. Very mature.” She stood and said, “I’m going to start fixing my plate. Jasper, there’s peas over there. I couldn’t bring myself to make fish sticks, so you’ll have to settle for my pan fried fillets, instead.”

“I love your pan fried fish, Mama P…” She threw him a look and he stopped himself from adding her last name. He looked at his mother and asked, “Can you pass the peas?”

Charlotte sang a little under her breath, “Pass the peas like we used to..” Her mom smiled at her and her dad chuckled. Henry felt left out of some kind of family joke, but invited it, because he knew that things were often awkward for her with the Pages these days. 

When everyone’s plate was full, Siren said, “So, Henry… You told me that you three have an important announcement. Was it the fact that you’ve gotten your friends back?”

He cleared his throat and said, “That’s the first part of it.” 

She smiled and waited. He started eating. “Well? What’s the next part?” Charlotte and Henry both looked at Jasper. Jasper had a mouth full of peas. Mrs. Page made THE BEST peas… 

“Well…” he said, finished chewing, swallowed, took a sip of his beer and nodded his head, “We’re in a relationship. The three of us.”

“Like… Swingers?” Siren asked.

“No, Mom. Not like swingers. We’re all in this relationship together.”

Mr. Page said, “Well, Charlotte and Jasper have been in a relationship for like a year or more, so what, are you like their boy unicorn or something?”

“No. I’m now also in a relationship with both of them. It’s a new relationship, not an add on to their relationship. It is called a polyamorous…”

“Why would you do this to yourself again?” Mrs. Page asked Charlotte. “You didn’t learn your lesson from the last time? Of all the people that you would want to play this new age House game with, you’d pick the one that had you running across the country to avoid his face?”

“That was a long time ago,” Siren said.

“I know! I had to visit my daughter out of town for many years. I know exactly how long it was. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, though. If it did, then I would be fine with what happened in 1999, New Year’s Eve. And, if you wanted to know, I am not fine with it.” Siren wiped her mouth, looked at Mr. Page, then back to the three and said, “Well, I support the three of you, like a mother should.”

Mrs. Page scoffed and laughed a little bit. Like a mother should be out there having so much sex around town that her husband had to eventually just start lying and saying that they were swingers, even though he had no idea she was even doing it FOR YEARS, with his dumbass…

“Mom…” Charlotte cut into her thoughts. “I know you and Mrs. Hart aren’t the best of friends, but tonight isn’t about her and Dad, or anything else.”

“It kind of is, Charlotte. Where do you think you’ve gotten this weird habit of never being able to decide who you want to be with? You got it from him. You knew as well as I did what he was like and you internalized that. You normalized it.”

“I. Am. Normal. I’m just not like you. Monogamy never made sense to me. Whenever you think about what you want in a partner, you think… one person might have it all? And if not, you think you should have to compromise away things that you expect or just be lonely while nobody meets your standards? If you do, that’s you and you’re normal too. We’re just different types of normal. You’re a normal monogamous person, and I am a normal other.”

Her mom smiled gently, “I remember whenever you asked me about what if you liked two boys for different things. I explained monogamy to you and I remember the look on your face, so vividly. I remember it because I wasn’t used to it. You were confused. It was weird to see. You were never easily confused and something that came as natural to me as air, your little genius brain couldn’t cimprehend it.” She sighed, “If you HAVE to do this, did you have to do this with… them? I love Jasper, you know that, but… I’ve been worried that he might leave you for another boy the entire time and you bring the worse boy to him and just serve him up.”

“It isn’t like that, Mrs. Page,” Jasper said, not calling her Mama this time. Not while she was being this way. “It’s like this. IF Mr. Page had come to you and said, I don’t think that I can be with one person. I think I’m meant to spread my love to others and you would have said, ‘Well, you do that right now and I tolerate it and act like I don’t see it, so I’m glad that you told me about it,” and you two remained involved and married and in love and he found whatever it was he was out there looking for and kept whatever he had with you and you, likewise, did the same, then someday, you both found something in the same person, and all three decided to share.”

“Horrible example,” she said. “I figured it was more like, Charlotte is very high maintenance and also likes to laugh. Henry’s rich and you’re funny.”

“Whatever it takes for you to approve,” Jasper said, chuckling.

She looked reluctant. “If… EITHER of you hurt her again, at all, I’m coming for you, and then I’m coming for your mothers, for good measure.”

Siren said, “We are sitting right here.”

“Good. That means that you know what will happen in the unfortunate event that your boys TRY me,” Mrs. Page said.

Mr. Dunlop rolled his eyes and and mumbled something. Nobody seemed to hear him but Jasper, probably because he was used to him being discretely insulting. Something about “Dumb as dogshit” and “Banging fruits and coloreds.” Jasper’s eyes welled with tears and he glanced around to see if anybody heard him. The Pages didn’t get up to beat the snot out of him, so he figured that they hadn’t. But he had. 

“Not the proper way to refer to people, Dad,” he said. 

Charlotte paused from spooning a huge chunk of baked vegan mac and cheese onto her plate and Henry covered his mouth and nose with both hands and said, “Please, let it go.”So Henry had heard.

“No. He owes both of you an apology. He can say whatever he wants about me, but nobody is going to insult either of you. Not while I’M around.”

“I apologize. I didn’t intend to be heard. Moreso talkin’ to m’self. And definitely talkin’ ‘bout YOU, not really them.”

“You’re a dick,” Jasper said and dropped his fork on the table, trying not to cry.

Charlotte got up and marched towards the older man, but her mother caught her wrist and said, “Maybe the two of you should go?” To the Dunlops.

“I’ll wait in the car. You keep eatin,’” Mr. Dunlop said. “I ain’t takin’ you out nowhere after this, so you better fill up.” He left and Jasper let angry tears fall. 

“He’s why I was never that good at picking a man…”

Charlotte came back over to him and said, “Hey… Let’s go talk to the stars about it, okay?” She rubbed his back and he nodded and got up. Henry and Charlotte made eye contact and somehow, he knew the look to mean that she’d take care of this, if he’d handle the parents. He was the therapist, after all and she was a woman. Jasper didn’t need his man right now.

“What’d that tumbleweed even say?” Mrs. Page asked. Everybody looked at Henry, who sighed and shook his head.

“He said, should’ve named him Dumb as Dogshit, gonna die of AIDS banging fruits and coloreds.” 

The Harts gasped, Mr. Page rolled his eyes, Mrs. Dunlop kept eating like nobody said anything, and Mrs. Page asked, “Do those troglodytes still believe those stereotypes?” She shook her head, “You’re a lot of things I don’t care for, but I know that you’re at least careful. I’ll bet that you’ve never had so much as an STI.”

“EVER!” Henry said, excited that for once, someone, even someone that kinda still hated him, realized that he would not just be transmitting things, willy nilly. “Thank you for realizing that.”

“Swellview DEFINITELY would’ve been talking by now had anybody ever contracted anything from you,” she said. “Mary Gaperman would’ve called me on threeway with Officer Walnut.”

“Was not aware that they were associates, nor that you were friends with both.”

“I work in public relations,” she said. Why had Henry thought that she was an assistant of some sort? “I always know everything about everybody, whether I want to, or not,” she threw Siren a look again. Siren rolled her eyes and bit a dinner roll aggressively. 

Jasper and Charlotte came back and he looked better. “You okay, my baby?” She asked.

Charlotte answered for him, “He just needed to tell his problems to the stars, look up at their glory and realize that all of our problems are just so small when the universe is as big as it is.”

Mrs. Page poured herself a glass of wine and asked Jasper, “Why do you keep on letting my daughter talk you into things?”

“She’s so wise,” Jasper said and winked at Charlotte. 

His mother got up and said, “Thank you for the meal. Jasper… Call me if… You get sad again.” He was going to ask her if he could just call her in general, but she rushed out, and probably was rushing right to a fight with his dad. He’d embarrassed her tonight. She would definitely give him lip about that, not like he cared.

“You’re never gonna be like them,” Charlotte said. “We’re never gonna be like them.”

“I know,” he said. “I’m very lucky… to have both of you. Neither of you are like either of them.”

[fmsdraws]

Metal in the Underground AU: General Info

... So, I’ve had this AU in my mind for about two years now, and I felt the urge to post about it now that I have made a new sprite for it’s Frisk. And since I don’t really plan to make a sprite comic about it, I figured I’d dump the ideas I had here. So you’ll find the information below the cut. 

What’s this AU about? Well, it revolves around a simple question....

What if Frisk was a robot?

That’s right, Metal in the Underground takes a different to most AUs by merely changing the protagonist, and letting the rest of the characters untouched. However, due to the now apparent artificial nature or Frisk, the characters have different reactions, and the way the story unfolds is somewhat different from Undertale’s.

The info you’ll find here is...

-General Backstory -Frisk bio -Changes in the story  -Changes in mechanics

But, I’m sure you’re wondering...

Why is Frisk a robot?

In the year 211X, technology has advanced in a considerable manner, so much so that household robots, and robots in general, are a commonality in this world. Frisk was one of these household units, who lived with a loving family, until their useful life eventually ran its course, and were shipped back to their manufacturer to be dismantled, and their parts reused for future models.

However, a group of scientists was looking for a robot to work with that they could modify for a project they were tasked to do. Since Frisk was the most recent one to arrive, and the one in the best state, they were picked.

What is this “project”?

Several humans had fallen into Mt. Ebott throughout the years, because of this, many protests had arisen from the town living nearby. The gobverment decided to dispatch a team of scientists to develop a robot that was capable enough to at least find whatever happened. Just enough so that the press would stop bothering, anyways. But they also put the team in a tight budget, hence the use of discarded robots.

What was done to Frisk?

When Frisk was brought to the lab, they managed to upgrade them rather well, they got rid of their memories but kept their experiences untouched due to an oversight (they’d know how to deal with something, they just don’t know why), they upgraded their battery life for obvious reasons. They also made their movements more fluid than the standard for their line, making them able to climb out if push came to shove. 

However, they made some rather... questionable choices. Namely, the removal of Frisk’s voice capabilities in favor of a system that would allow the scientists to speak through them should the robot find one of the humans. 

The robot didn’t have memories, anyway. It wouldn’t be able to deal with conflictive situations on their own, right?

How did they end up Underground?

Use your imagination. 

In reality, the robot was told to climb down the hole into the mountain instead of, I don’t know, making them go down safely via ropes or something. The robot lost communication with the scientists as soon as they entered due to the barrier, the wall they were hanging from collapsed, and they promptly fell into the underground.

Thankfully, they landed on a bed of flowers, somewhat cushioning the damage. But still leaving the poor robot stunned for a good while...

What is Frisk like?

(Note: the eyes do not represent a chara possesion, it is just the color that was set to by their previous owners, and the scientists liked it a lot.)

Name: Frisk (ooc nickname: Mitu) Height: 5′5

Having household been their job in their past “life”, and having retained those experiences, Frisk has a tendency to cling onto people they deem as friendly, and prefer to keep whatever indoors space they’re in tidy and clean. Their lineage of robots also has some special features that in Frisk have remained unchanged. Said features are...

-Alarm clock -Bluetooth sound stereo (hence their headphone-like ears) -Snapshot ability -They can also be patted on the head to get an instant smile from them, which also serves to turn off their alarm.

In general, their line searches affection from their owners. MitU however cannot really connect with monsters due to the fact that they’re, well, monsters. They have a hard time recognizing monsters as people, since they don’t match with their facial scan systems. They can recognize some similarities, such as toriel looking like a goat, but someone like sans they’re lost in even figuring out what he is. 

They’re also somewhat aquaphobic, since they aren’t waterproof. So areas like waterfall are horrendous to go through for them. They can also remain operative even after taking somewhat concerning damage, and even repair themselves provided they’re given the tools (they are not).

All in all, MitU is a kind robot when it comes to humans, they are loyal as a puppy and such. But when it comes to monsters, their morale can be ... bent, depending on their actions during either Genocide or Pacifist routes. (Note: while a genocide route is just about as likely as a pacifist route, a theoretical genocide route is not canon to the AU.)

What changes from the original Undertale story?

For starters, Chara is not present in the story. This is due to the lack of a SOUL on Frisk’s part, meaning they cannot understand certain monsters (Froggits, for example), and they have to guide themselves based on visual aid. They also provide some flavor text themselves. The lack of a SOUL also means that they cannot interact with SAVE files at all, but don’t worry, Flowey the Flower comes to the Rescue!

Mainly for personal amusement, Flowey wants to help Frisk get as far into the underground as possible, and see how they tackle the sheninegans that the underground is filled with. Often times, he’ll give them advice after reloading for anything up ahead. Frisk cannot remember reloads, anyway...

This doesn’t mean that flowey becomes an active partner, he only pops up from time to time to give Frisk advice.

Since Frisk is strictly mute, and has not been taught sign language, they can hardly communicate with Monsters. They try to get their ideas across as clear as possible via pointing and acting, but no one really knows what they’re trying to say. they’re trying their best pls don’t pick on them ;-; As a result, some monsters have different behaviours towards them. 

For instance, Toriel (who is well aware of Frisk being a robot) decides to take the robot with her while she buys her groceries in fear that the robot might not have the best reaction to an encounter. She cooks snail pie, since Frisk can’t have CB pie. They can still take a slice with them for later use, though. 

I envisioned that Toriel has no real reason to stop MitU from leaving, they don’t have a SOUL, anyways, so their death would not mean anything in the long run.

In Snowdin, Frisk tries to play along with Papyrus’ sheninegans to sans’ request. And they succeed for the most part. Sans has seen enough anime to be aware of the fact MitU is a robot, but Papyrus still 100% thinks they’re a human.... Up until he figures it out by himself.

Waterfall goes generally the same, save for the fact that after Frisk falls from the bridge, they’re yet again knocked out cold, and Undyne comes to the dump to... pick them up and bring them to Alphys lab to repair them.

You see, Alphys, like her Undertale counterpart, looks over MitU ever since they step in Snowdin Forest. And she could tell that after the fall they took, they wouldn’t be able to get up. So she called up Undyne to explain the situation, and thus, saved Frisk from eventually being dragged away by the water.

When Frisk is returned back to life, Alphys explains that she rescued them herself, and that there is little to no time to waste. She has to return them to the surface! She also mentions that she modified MitU a bit to suit Hotland’s very unforgiving conditions, plus added a jetpack that comes out of their back. 

MitU also gets to meet Mettaton himself, and they naively agree to do shows with him despite the risk that said shows entail.

And, honestly? Those were basically all the real changes that there are in the main run. Omega Flowey does flow differently due to Frisk lacking a SOUL, but the beats are the same. The Dates don’t vary that much, neither the amalgamates.

In the true pacifist Asriel fight, MitU is able to fully utilize their ACTing skills that they had gained all those years ago with their old family to calm Asriel down. However, in the end, they are destroyed by the final blast that Asriel shoots as his last attack. 

And it is their death that reminds Asriel of the pain he had gone through when Chara passed away while trying to make their plan go through. So he’s quick to undo his wrongs, bring Frisk back, break the barrier, return the souls, and leave to never be seen again. 

Frisk then gets to live with the monsters in the surface from then on. While their scientists do try to take the robot back, to check what they recorded Toriel’s deadly glare guarantees that Frisk shall clean their new home and have fun while doing so for a long while...

What changes in terms of mechanics? (no pun intended)

Frisk has a battery life, as explained earlier, so they need to recharge at several points in the story. It’s indicated via the heart in their chest, which may I add, is also their on/off switch. Their battery drains in turn of how much exploration you make. Note that MitU can and will run out of power in the overworld and in the midst of a fight if you’re not careful.

The UI is different as well, this was basically a mock up I made a year ago, but it gets the idea across. Their HP is replaced with a damage meter, which the more it grows, the more glitches appear on the UI and on the screen. The battery should be obvious enough.

And Frisk can also climb up some walls provided they’re colored properly, which can lead to some goodies, or allow them to solve puzzles.

And that would be all of the info I had made. What do you guys think? While I do love the concept of this AU, there was just no driving force to work on anything like a comic for me, plus, I currently work on my other AUs, so my time is already tight as is. 

If anyone has any more questions they’d like answered, I’ll be sure to answer them.

As an addendum: I must ask that people do not RP Mitu!Frisk, steal the few art pieces done for this post, or steal this AU in any shape or form without permission. 

If anyone desires to RP interactions with MitU, I RP them in the Omega Timeline server, along with other characters. It is a highly reccomendable server in my book for any UT fan that likes to RP.

I will also ask that people don’t make a AU wiki entry on this AU, as I may do that myself provided the time is right.