#but no ine ever tales me seriously when i say that

[kasarian]

yeah sorry im gonna keep self reblogging my art until it gets noticed by other people. yeah im not going to stop even if im fucking mortified that i make up most of the reblog counter. it doesn't matter. yeah, its going to go on like this until someone's finally interested in my art enough that people actively want to know who my ocs are. hell, maybe i'll still do it after then.

[franki-lew-yo]

I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”  

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

I really want to read the post where you say "why Ravenclaw is the House that suits MC the most in the main story" but I dont find it

I haven’t ever made a full length post about it, come to think of it. I’ve talked about it in previous Ask responses but admittedly I have quite a few of those. So I suppose now is as good a time as any! 

Ultimately, HPHM’s story is designed so that any House can work for Jacob’s Sibling. Obviously, no one House is “canon” over the others. But in my personal opinion, certain Houses do make more sense for different reasons. Everything can change based on how you characterize MC, but setting aside the dialogue choices, they tend to have a general personality that fills in for most of the scenes. It’s average, a kind of “everyman” type. And certain choices can arguably be considered “canon” when they’re the ones that are free, placed next to choices that are locked behind attributes or friendship checks. That is the general vision of MC that I’ll be analyzing. 

But first, the characters. 

One of the primary reasons that MC fits Ravenclaw the best in the Main Story is because there are several characters who are aligned to MC in their Sorting. They always follow MC to whatever House they go to. Thus it becomes a question of which house suits them the most. Rowan Khanna, I think, speaks for them-self. I could see them in any House but they are a Ravenclaw through and through. I bet the only reason they ever get Sorted anywhere else is because they ask the Hat to let them follow MC. They are absolutely brilliant, with a love of reading and learning new things. They’re eccentric as well, deeply creative and good at coming up with plans. They dream of being a Professor, and they turn to books above all else. Next we have Jacob. Another character who could go anywhere based on interpretation, but he strikes me as a Ravenclaw too. Several of the options you can give when expressing speculation about him suggest that the reason he probably investigated the Vaults in the first place was his thirst for knowledge, his desire to know their secrets. To be specific, his stubborn and obsessive need to know. I feel like Jacob couldn’t let this go until he had learned all of the hidden magic and secrets of the Vaults, until he realized far too late that he was in over his head, mixed up with R and everything. 

Then there is Flitwick. A canon Ravenclaw of course, and one of the four Heads of House. It could be coincidental, but even if it is, Flitwick is easily the most developed of the Heads of House within this game. McGonagall is totally in character, but she’s part of the sideline outside of a small section of Year 2. Sprout contributes absolutely nothing, and Snape is likewise in character, but lacking anything to do until Rakepick shows up. Flitwick prepares MC for the first duel with Merula and gives them counsel. I suppose it’s not that much more than McGonagall teaching them the revealing spell in Year 2, but this felt so much more personal. You have the chance to make a promise to Flitwick, and either keep it or break it. In Year 4, he is I think the only teacher to speak up in Rakepick’s defense, and this leads into even further development of his character. By Year 5, he starts to warn MC not to investigate the Portrait Curse, but stops mid-sentence as he realizes that nothing he can say will stop them. I bring all of this up because Flitwick being such a fleshed out character in this game kind of goes hand in hand pretty well with the idea that he is MC’s Head of House. He is the only Head who shows the slightest bit of remorse when banning MC from Hogsmeade. With him, you really get the sense that he’s being overruled and doesn’t agree with it. That he’s in MC’s corner. And god I love him.  I won’t stray too far into the Quidditch characters, but I will say that Murphy and Orion are two other characters that stick with MC, who I could very much see as Ravenclaws, both in different ways. But still, it’s Jacob and Rowan who are most important in affecting the story.

Which brings me to the story itself. 

Hogwarts Mystery is different from the story of Harry Potter. This is the tale of Jacob and his Sibling. In HP, we know from the beginning who the villain is, that he’s an evil monster. We know what he wants, and that he failed. It gets fleshed out more later but everything you need to know is in that first book. We see him, he clashes with Harry, and loses. The books are a hero’s journey. A story of good versus evil. They do have mystery aspects, each of the books has a mystery told within it’s pages. But the overarching story is not about what’s hidden in the trapdoor, or who opened the chamber of secrets. It’s about Harry and Voldemort’s rivalry, their hero/villain dynamic. Everyone knew going into DH that Harry would defeat him in the end because that’s how these things go. OOTP basically confirmed it but most fans had known for years. 

HPHM is different. 

There are heroic moments, and Merula in particular compares MC to being a “hero.” But nothing they do is heroic in the same way as Harry. They both take active roles in the story but in different ways. Harry is still reactionary. He takes it upon himself to solve the problems, but he still waits until the problems show up. MC plans to open the Vaults even before the Curses show themselves. They arrive at Hogwarts with a goal in mind, finding Jacob. And with Hogwarts Mystery, the overarching story is not a hero’s journey. Because MC is so much more ambiguous than Harry. It might seem redundant to say that this story is a Mystery, but it is. An ongoing investigation, the unraveling of a conspiracy. Learning the truth about just what went down during Jacob’s years at Hogwarts. By HBP, Voldemort was such a familiar presence that we were learning the ins and outs of his childhood, right down to how his parents met. By Year 6, we still have no idea what R really is, or what they want. We don’t even know what it stands for. The black and white of the books, the heroes and the villains...that’s all replaced with shades of gray. Jacob is constantly in the gray. So is Rakepick, at least at first. Don’t get me started on Merula. Ben is another character who is definitely good, but has gone through such a roller coaster about who he is and whether he can be trusted. 

Then there’s the ambiguity of MC them-self. The hints that they don’t share everything with people, are prone to tricking others, and for all we know, might wind up on the Dark Side someday. I’ll admit, this can also lend itself well to MC being a Slytherin, and indeed there are dialogue choices that are locked behind being one. But I still feel as though MC playing detective throughout this entire game, that whole premise lends itself pretty damn well toward a Ravenclaw MC. They’re trying to defeat the bad guys, but their main method of preparing for that fight is not train up an army of students, it is to investigate the Vaults, and investigate R. Even going as far as to work with Wizarding police. Granted, I know Harry poked around a lot too. And MC does form the Circle of Khanna, just like how Harry formed Dumbledore’s Army. Both of them do exhibit both behaviors, but MC specializes in covert investigation more than preparation for combat. Again, at least they do so in the main story. The Circle of Khanna was not meant to be like Dumbledore’s Army, at least not in concept. MC first conceived it as the idea of standing toe to toe with the Cabal by having a secret organization of their own. I know that didn’t really land perfectly in actual practice but that was the whole idea. And if there’s one thing MC has a constant stream of, it’s ideas. Not always the right ones, not always fast enough, but they do have them, and these ideas steer the plot. In the main story and otherwise. 

It’s probably a bit cheap to get meta, but so be it. 

I can’t help but notice how, if we take every other contribution to the Potterverse into account...well then, we’ve got a Gryffindor Protagonist in the form of Harry. We’ve got a Slytherin Protagonist in the form of Albus Severus. And a Hufflepuff over in Fantastic Beasts with Newt Scamander. If MC is a Ravenclaw, then that completes the quartet. But there’s another Quartet out there as well - that of the Original Four. Rowan, Ben, Penny, and Merula. The Year 1 characters and the OG leads of the Hogwarts Mystery story. Notice anything about them? We have a Hufflepuff, a Gryffindor, and a Slytherin...but no Ravenclaw. None that is, unless MC, and therefore Rowan by extension, is a Ravenclaw. MC being Sorted into the House of Eagles completes both of these groups. I dunno, I just find it curious that unless the Player goes to Ravenclaw, the first student character we meet in that House shows up in Year 3. Because Jam City wrote in some amazing characters for Ravenclaw. My love of Tulip Karasu is well documented, but I also think Talbott is pretty damn fascinating. Andre and Badeea rock too! Ravenclaw is also a relatively neutral House. I’ve said before that HPHM ignores the House rivalries, and that’s easiest to incorporate in the House of Eagles, which mostly keeps to itself. It would not be socially strange for a Ravenclaw to have so many friends from different Houses. I’m not saying a Slytherin MC couldn’t befriend Ben, for example, but he’s a Muggle-born Gryffindor and that would be a big deal to everyone else. Again, not saying it couldn’t happen, just that it would turn heads and people within Slytherin might go as far as to treat MC like a traitor. I like this premise, but...would Felix seriously help MC prepare to fight Merula, a fellow Slytherin, on behalf of someone like Ben? There are other trivial problems, like the question of two male Prefects if MC is Gryffindor, etc. 

But that’s just a few thoughts. Again, there’s clearly no “canon” House, and neither of my MCs are even in Ravenclaw. But I think it’s fun to explore the idea as Ravenclaw is a House that, I think, is sorely needing development.

[fanfoolishness]

in the long night (Hawke x Varric)

Written for @oneshallop and also up on AO3.  They requested Hawke and Varric on the Deep Roads expedition with some early hints of pining.  I hope it fits the bill!  2836 words, Hawke, Varric, Act 1 of DA2.

***

It was dark.

Varric almost roared with laughter at the thought.  Of course it was dark.  It was the Deep fucking Roads, wasn’t it?  

Sure, maybe in old dwarven tales these tunnels were supposed to be awash with red-gold, welcoming light, but every kid in Hightown’s dwarven quarter knew the Deep Roads had been overrun centuries ago.  There were still some intact corridors here and there where you could see the magma channels lighting the way as they’d been intended… but there were far more lonely and dangerous areas, where the magma had long ago been freed in cave-ins and cooled into just another kind of rock. Those corridors sat empty in the long-forgotten dark.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t pitch black, at least not where they’d set up camp for the night.  They had the torches and the campfire made of magelight to thank for that.  The orange-yellow of torchlight, the blue-white of mage-fire, they cast deep and disturbing shadows in the dark.  It disquieted him.  He almost wondered if it wouldn’t be better to let the lights go out, except that was complete crazy talk.

He hunkered down, trying to find a comfortable way to sit.  He could sit on this broken lump of rock, but then there was no back support.  Sit on the ground and that would take care of his back, but then his ass would start aching.  He decided on the floor, groaning under his breath.  

This lead of Bartrand’s better pan out , he thought sourly.  He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Bartrand and his crew had taken over most of the lower level.  Their torches lit the place up a little more, but the murmuring echoes of the mercs he’d hired were weird and distorted in the high open ceilings.  He tried to ignore the sound and the way it made his spine tingle.

A rustle at his side.  He nearly reached a hand toward Bianca, but this sound was familiar, somehow.  Safe.  He followed it to the source and saw the elder Hawke slipping out of her tent to tend to the fire, her hair mussed, her robes rumpled.  

“Trouble sleeping?” Varric asked.

A startled look crossed her face, followed by a shrug once she realized it was only him.  Shadows pooled along her cheekbones, dark semicircles cupping her keen eyes.  “I could ask the same of you.  Isn’t your bigshot brother paying for extra guards?  No need to keep watch, I thought.”

Varric chuckled, letting discomfiting thoughts about the long tunneling dark fade away.  This was a good distraction.  “You really think Bartrand managed to convince quality muscle to come along with us?  Oh, Hawke, he talks a big game, but I wouldn’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Her eyebrows leapt up somewhere in the vicinity of her hairline.  “You do realize this doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in the expedition.  Or in the Tethras name.”

Varric waved her protestation away.  “Bartrand not having an ounce of charm in his body is his problem.  I, fortunately, do not suffer from the same issue.  Ergo, I was able to find some decent people for this thing.  Such as yourself, partner.”

She let out one of those sharp-edged laughs he was beginning to know well.  “You do have quite the silver tongue, dwarf, I’ll give you that.”  She bent over the fire, concentrating.  It flared up before her, dancing bright blue-white against the shadows.

“Thanks,” said Varric.  

“I can’t stand it being so dark down here in the lower levels,” she said, leaning against a chunk of paving stone that had been torn from the main floor.  “It’s unnatural.”  Then she glanced at him.  “Er, I mean, for humans,” she said clumsily.

Varric held up his hands.  “Believe you me, Hawke, I’ll moan and complain about the Deep Roads as much as any human.  Dwarves get some things right, sure -- they know what they’re doing when it comes to smithing and bullshitting -- but living underground forever, it’ll never play right for me.”

“You were born on the surface, then?” Hawke asked curiously.  

“Born and raised,” said Varric.  “Family had a nasty fall from grace in Orzammar when Bartrand was a little kid.  They were forced to run from their fuckups down here up to the surface.  My dad died not long after I was born, and my mother never recovered from the move.  Not sure if Bartrand ever did, either.”  He gazed into the fire.  Silver-white sparks leapt from its flames.

“Oh,” said Hawke, first looking taken aback, then her face softening.  “I’m sorry -- I didn’t realize.”  She could be startlingly empathetic when she wanted to be, he’d noticed.

She sighed, shaking her head.  “Family.  Dreadfully inconvenient, aren’t they?”  Then again, she was just as likely to laugh the big stuff away, just another joke.  He liked that about her.  Liked it in himself, too.

He chuckled.  “You realize Carver is literally five feet away, right?”

She glanced over at her sleeping brother.  He’d said he felt claustrophobic, setting up a tent in a closed tunnel, and had instead opted to sleep out in the open.  She watched his chest rise and fall for a few beats.

“Carver’s different,” she said, “despite the way we fight.  It’s our fighting, right?  That’s the important bit.”  She flashed Varric a too-tight grin.

Varric thought of Bartrand, all family name and getting ahead, all Brother, you have to take this seriously or they’ll eat you alive.   He thought of just how often he’d been an absolute shit of a little brother, and how much Bartrand had really deserved it (completely, most of the time).

“There’s something to that, I suppose,” he said cautiously.  “But Bartrand really is an ass.”

“So’s Carver,” Hawke laughed in that bright, airy way of hers.  For a moment, though, her face slipped into genuine fondness. “That’s part of his charm.”

Varric snorted.  “That’s one word for it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Hawke in mock-offended tones.  “As the eldest sibling, I’m the only one permitted to say such dreadful things about my own brother.  Which I have before, and which I’ll do again, thank you very much.”

Varric shifted positions, sitting up on top of his chunk of rock, seeing if that would help his aching back.  Eh.  Not much difference.  

A thought struck him, one he knew he shouldn’t say.  You never talk about the other twin that way.   But that was something private, wasn’t it, something he’d only gleaned from weeks of dropped references in casual conversation with the Hawke siblings.  At first he’d wondered if Bethany was a cousin back in Fereldan; a distant relative long-forgotten.  It’d taken an overheard conversation between Hawke and her mother for Varric to figure it out, and an aside with Aveline, plied with more than a little ale, to confirm it..  

He stuffed the information back down, watching the firelight flicker in her eyes.  If she wanted to tell him about Bethany, she’d do it, and it didn’t gain him any advantage anyway, knowing the blow she and Carver had suffered.  He held his tongue.

“You’ve gone quiet,” she observed.  “You never did say what you were doing out here.  Something nefarious, I’m certain.”

“Oh, you know me,” said Varric loftily.  “I’m just here for the scenery.”

Hawke giggled, loudly enough that Carter grumbled and rolled over before lapsing into a loud snore.  She stifled her laugh, just barely.

“Ah, yes.  Creepy empty caverns, moldering ruins, the endless dark.  You really know how to show a girl a good time,” she teased.

He shivered.  Or was he blushing?  He wasn’t sure.  Something squirmed in the pit of his stomach.

“Where better than the ass end of Thedas for a little romance?” he asked, in a voice that felt a good deal less smooth than he’d meant it.

Hawke wiped a tear away.  “This is why I like traveling with you.  You’re right.  If Bartrand had been doing the talking, Carver and I would never have thrown in our lot with you.”  She let out a long breath.  “Ah, thanks for that.  I’ve been feeling rather uneasy down here, to be honest.  A good laugh’s a bit of a relief.”

“Varric Tethras, at your service,” he said cheerfully.  Funny, though, that little bit of disappointment threading through his words.  Why was he thinking of Bianca now?  He shook his head.  “Well, Hawke, you’re not the only one with the creeps down here.  I thought maybe keeping an eye on camp would make things feel more normal, but turns out the place is damn spooky no matter where you sit.”

She nodded.  “I could see my fire fading through the gap in the front of my tent.  Didn’t feel right to let it go out.  So I’m keeping an eye on it, for now at least.”

“Seems like you’re getting better at them to me,” said Varric.  He didn’t know much about magic, but he’d long noticed that Anders was the one running around throwing fireballs while Hawke was much more likely to somehow conjure up a miniature earthquake.  

“That’s sweet of you to say,” said Hawke. “Anders is much better at elemental magic than I am, but since he’s still up surface-side, I figured now was a good time to practice.  It wasn’t my father’s strength, either, as far as I know.  Or maybe he thought it’d be harder to hide fireball lessons out back of our farm.”  She shrugged.  “But I’m learning things, much as I can with the Chantry breathing down my neck.”

“Maybe it’s for the best Anders isn’t here.  I gather he’s spent way more time in the Deep Roads than any sane person would ever want to,” said Varric.  He could just hear Blondie’s complaints starting up in the back of his mind.

“It’s one reason why I didn’t ask him to come with us,” said Hawke cheerily.  “Felt sorry for the poor fellow.  I’m sure he’s enjoying the sunshine from Darktown.  ...come to think of it, it’s not that far off from being down here, is it?”

Varric laughed.  “Good point.  Though sometimes I swear you can see the sun through holes in the walls there… and it smells better here.”

“Do you miss it?  Not Darktown, obviously.  Kirkwall,” said Hawke.  “It’s been… what, a good three weeks now?  It’s the longest I’ve seen you away from the city.”

Varric considered.  He’d gone on long journeys before, been away from Kirkwall for weeks, even occasionally, months at a time on Guild business, especially after their mother died.  Bianca flitted through his thoughts again, Bianca and intrigue and furtive meetings in shitty towns.  But none of that felt right to bring up here, not to Hawke with the fire’s reflection in her darkened eyes.  

“I miss the Hanged Man,” he said honestly.  “Every time I try to lay down for bed here, I just think back to my bed back in the inn, and think ‘Tethras!  You’ve gone insane.’”  

“Ugh, you and me both,” said Hawke.  “I think I’ve got bruises on bruises from all these rocks.  Hopefully we’re not down here too much longer.”

“We can always dream,” said Varric, but the words felt hollow in the dark, and he drew his coat closer around himself.

Hawke nodded, but she seemed pensive.  “I suppose,” she said.  She shifted, sinking deeper into her robes.  “Hmph.  Well, as long as we aren’t sleeping, care to join me in a snack?”

“Depends,” he said cautiously.  He’d had her cooking before.  Carver’s was far and away the better meal.  

“I’ve been saving these.  For a special occasion, as it were.”  She rummaged in the pack beside her.  “I figured the special occasion would be for when I absolutely couldn’t tolerate another bite of Lowtown hardtack, but what d’you know, sharing it with a friend sounds all right, too.”

“You actually have something good in there?” Varric asked in surprise.  The perishable stuff had all gone a few days ago, and he’d started his grumbling about the salted pork that morning, right on cue.  

Hawke pulled free a waxed paper bundle, tightly wrapped.  “I may have tried a spell of stasis on these,” she said.  “I’m still working on the technique, but I think I’ve got it down for little things like this.”  She unwrapped the bundle and a tiny flash of light dissipated from the contents, the spell breaking at its maker’s touch.

“Chocolate almond biscuits, from Camille’s in Hightown,” she whispered, looking downright conspiratorial.  “It was the end of the night, that last night in Kirkwall.  The bakery was just about to close, but I saw them packing these up off the cart outside.  The baker’s girl told me they were getting a bit stale, but did I want to buy them anyway, half price?  Carver ate his straight away -- didn’t see the point in them getting staler -- but I wanted to save them.  Don’t know why.”  

Two biscuits sat in their waxed wrapping, delicate golden squares worked with scrolled lustrous chocolate, stamped with the Kirkwall crest.  He’d passed them up a hundred times, sweet sugary nonsense meant for nobles with more money than sense.  Bartrand would have scoffed.  But they smelled amazing.

“Aw, come on, Hawke,” tried Varric.  “They’re yours.  You should have them.”

“A good biscuit’s better shared, or at least it’s what my father used to say.  Probably so as to keep his children from fighting amongst themselves for the last one, but it’s a nice sentiment regardless,” said Hawke.  She shoved the biscuits at him.  “Go on, then.”

“All right, all right.  If you insist.  Only because you’re a powerful mage and I don’t want to get on your bad side.”  He reached out and took the top biscuit. It was a solid thing, sturdy in the hand.  The chocolate beneath his thumb tip began to melt, soft and silky against his skin.

“Cheers, Varric.”  Hawke took up the other biscuit and nudged it against his, then took a bite.  “Mmm,” she hummed, closing her eyes.  “Just as I’d hoped it would be.”

Varric bit into his biscuit.  It snapped satisfyingly against his teeth.  He tasted buttery almonds first, then a deep, complex sweetness tempered by smooth bitter chocolate.  He paused, savoring it.  “Damn.  No wonder they charge an arm and a leg for these.”

“Worth every copper,” Hawke agreed, a silly grin spreading over her face as she finished her biscuit.  Varric finished his a moment later, regretfully licking the last of the chocolate from his fingertips.

“Thanks, Hawke.  You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, her eyes twinkling.  

The fire rolled and flared, almost a living thing, fighting against the shadows.  He half thought he could see a pattern to it, a heartbeat, a touch of Hawke herself within the flames.

Silence grew between them, a comfortable, familiar thing like the weight of a good blanket.  Or the taste of secret chocolate in the dark.  It felt good, until it was broken by a yawn Hawke tried to hide.  

“You should get some rest,” Varric said softly.  “The fire’s a good one, Hawke.  You don’t need to worry.”

“Hmm, but I worry all the time,” she chuckled, yawning again.  “But don’t tell anyone.  It’s a secret.”

He felt a pang, though he wasn’t sure why.  “Dwarf’s honor,” said Varric.  “Assuming you put stock in such things.”

“In yours?  Of course I do,” she said.  She gave him a tired smile.  “All right, then.  I’ll get some sleep if you promise to do the same.  It wouldn’t do for us to be too tired to carry back our fabulous treasure.”

“Imagine if we’d have to leave it behind due to exhaustion.  It’d be a crying shame.  We’d never live it down,” said Varric.  “All right, you’ve convinced me.”  

He got to his feet, his back and ass aching as predicted.  He reached out a hand to Hawke and she gripped it, hard, her calloused hand small but steely against his own as he helped her up.  “Thanks, Varric.”

“No problem.  See you in the morning, Hawke,” he said.

“If you can call it that,” she said.  “But I’ll see you then.”  She slipped back into her tent, and Varric returned to his.

He stretched out on his bedroll, staring up at the ceiling.  The blue magelight -- Hawke’s light -- seeped in through the cracks of his tent flaps.  He watched its delicate choreography through drowsy eyes.

They had this.  He knew it now in his bones.  Bartrand had his team and his map, and that was all well and good, but Varric had Hawke and her people, and he’d put the money on them every time.  No matter what they found on this crazy expedition, they’d be ready.

He smiled tiredly.  Yeah.  He had Hawke.

The tent was still and quiet.  His eyes fell shut; his breathing slowed.  He drifted off to sleep in the long night of the Deep Roads, still tasting chocolate.

[slippinmickeys]

Five Seconds (2/8)

As I mentioned, this is the sequel to Of The Eight Winds. I will be posting the first two chapters today and then one chapter a day until next Monday. You can also read it on AO3 here. 

Chapter Two

It was decided the best place to go would be the Midwest -- far from family on the coasts. They’d avoid the biggest cities -- Chicago, Detroit -- but still stick to denser populations; mid-sized cities on the edge of farmland -- it would give them the ability to lose tails in the chaos of town or hit the road quickly and disappear into the woods. A college town where no one would think anything of a new family moving in at the beginning of a semester. It was early May and the summer semester would begin soon at many universities. Frohike said he had a trustworthy contact nearby, so they settled on Lansing, Michigan.

The inheritance from Mulder’s father’s estate would keep them afloat for as long as they needed. Now they just needed to tell the kids.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Frohike handed him a shoebox. Mulder opened it to find new IDs for the whole family. They were now the McDonald family of Okemos, Michigan. The driver’s licenses looked real, as did the passports. Mulder thumbed through everything slowly.

“How’d you get these so fast?” he asked, looking up.

Frohike shrugged. “Best not to ask.”

Mulder leveled a look at the older man.

“If either of my kids ever come to you for a fake ID, I’m hiring a plane and skywriting your location,” he said.

Langly snorted from his chair.

“This is your new address,” Frohike said, handing Mulder a piece of paper that he threw in the box. “Subleased a furnished house from a professor traveling on sabbatical. Darlene will meet you there at noon on Friday. Don’t be late, she gets cranky.”

“Darlene?” Mulder asked.

“Darlene Frohike,” Byers piped in. “Melvin’s sister.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said, surprised. He pictured Frohike with breasts and long hair and felt one eye start to twitch.

“Go to her if you need help,” Frohike said, “she lives nearby.”

“You have a sister?” Mulder said again.

Frohike glared at him.

“They used to run pacifists over the border into Windsor, Canada during ‘Nam,” Langly helpfully piped up. “She can roll.”

“She can roll?” Mulder asked.

“Her kung-fu’s the best,” Frohike said seriously.

Mulder held up the box of fake documents.

“Family affair, huh?” he said, and Frohike shrugged.

Mulder thumbed through everything one more time before departing the bunker. They’d been generous with Scully’s height and his weight. He could picture his wife’s smirk already.

“Hey, Mulder?” Frohike called out just as he opened the door. Mulder glanced back at the three men. “Be careful.”

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder called a family meeting as soon as the kids walked in the door that evening. After the news they’d received the last time their parents had sat down with them like this, they both looked at them with trepidation.

“God, you’re not about to tell us Mom’s having twins, are you?” Lily said, plopping down on the couch in the living room. Will lowered himself down next to her, his eyes darting back and forth between his parents. When neither Mulder nor Scully laughed, Lily’s face fell. “What’s going on?” she asked seriously.

Mulder had debated with Scully how honest to be with them. While he thought they were old enough to handle the full truth, neither wanted to scare them. And yet they needed to know the severity of the situation. A parent’s eternal dilemma.

“Our family is in some trouble,” he started, sharing a look with Scully. “And we’re going to need to leave town for a while.”

“When?” Lily asked, “For how long?”

“What kind of trouble?” Will asked.

“There are some people that are after your mom-” Mulder started, and both kids interrupted him quickly.

“What kind of people?” Lily asked, at the same time, Will, whose voice rose almost an octave, said:

“After her for what?”

Mulder rubbed a hand over his face. He was perched on the arm of the chair Scully occupied, and she reached out and took his hand.

“I think we need to start from the beginning,” she said. “The very beginning.”

She gave his hand a squeeze and began talking. Starting with the abduction of Samantha Mulder, Scully gave a thorough, yet succinct account of the ins and outs of their current predicament, making the whole outlandish tale sound coherent and almost reasonable. Both kids listened to her raptly and remained calm, and Mulder once again thanked his lucky stars for the woman next to him. For all the tumult they’d experienced through the years, there was no one he’d rather have by his side.

“I have a friend -- some friends -- that have set us up with a new life-” Mulder said, when Scully was finally done talking.

He was interrupted by Lily.

“The friends who you visit at Arlington Cemetery? The ones we’re not supposed to know about? Those friends?”

Mulder looked to Scully who wore a surprised smile.

“I haven’t said a thing, Mulder,” she said, looking to him.

“Lily hid in the trunk of your car once,” said Will.

“Will!” Lily shouted at her brother.

“Lil, is that true?” Scully asked her daughter, concerned. Lily wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“I’m not sure whether to be terrified or impressed,” Mulder said. Then shook his head. Back to the topic at hand. He would worry about that later.  “Anyway, those friends have set us up with a life in the Midwest for a year, probably less. Until the heat is off. Until we’re sure we’re all safe.”

“Where in the Midwest?” Lily said with trepidation.

“Michigan,” Scully said.

“They’ve got good hockey in Michigan,” Will offered, and Mulder wanted to hug the kid for his optimism.

Lily looked pained. “What about school?” she said. “What about UVA?” She was supposed to start college there in the fall.

“Lil, these people are not above using you to get to us. The only safe thing is for you and Will to come with us. It’s not even for a year. You can defer. Just the fall semester,” Mulder said.

Lily fell back against the cushions on the couch. Scully and Mulder shared a look.

“And we have to leave soon,” Scully said, “before graduation.”

Will reached out and put his hand on his sister’s knee, his face all sympathy. To her credit, Lily looked at her little brother and gave him a thankful look, a small uptick of the lips. Will turned back to his parents.

“When do we have to start packing?” he asked.

“Tonight,” Mulder said.

XxX

A day later found Mulder in the attic with Lily and William, going through boxes, taking the few things that they had in storage that they thought they might need. Mulder had grabbed a tent, a few sleeping bags, a kit knife, various useful odds and ends.

Will was over in the corner and had unearthed a box of old pictures and held one up for Mulder’s perusal.

“What’s this one from?” his son asked.

Mulder came over to take a look. It was a glossy 8x10 of him and Scully facing each other, framed in profile, hovering on the edge of a crime scene. He remembered it, now. It had been taken by a federal crime scene tech who’d finished documenting a scene and had needed to finish off the roll of film. Mulder had seen him snapping and had handed the guy a fiver. Two weeks later it arrived in an interoffice envelope, accompanied by three dollars and a post-it that said “keep the change.”

In the photo, Scully was looking up at him, the sun at her back slanting on her autumn hair so that it shone like a halo of spun gold. She was wearing a dark suit, as was her wont, the bulge of her service weapon at her back, one arm out and gesturing at something out of frame. He was struck, as he always seemed to be, by her exquisite beauty; her face was a composition. A work of art. A call to prayer.

“God,” he said, a little awestruck, “look how young we were.”

“Mom used to be really pretty,” Will said, and though he said it kindly, Mulder turned to him slowly.

“I’m sorry, ‘Used to be?’” he said.

Will looked nervously between his father and Lily.

“She’s still pretty?” Will said, more as a question than a statement.

“God damn right,” he said, “Every day I thank my lucky stars that she still deigns to share my bed.”

“Dad, don’t be gross,” from Lily, who at 18 didn’t mind her parent’s displays of affection so long as they weren’t public.

“Gross?” Mulder said, pointing at each of them.  “Gross? You were born of the loins of an ethereal creature of heaven, the both of you. Don’t blaspheme.”

“Says the guy who just said ‘God damn,’” said Lily, cheekily.

Mulder grinned and turned back to the photo.

“To me, fair friend, you never can be old, for as you were when first your eye I ey’d, such seems your beauty still,” Mulder said, looking at it.

“Which sonnet?” Lily asked.

“104,” he said, and they shared a smile. Another silent moment of admiring the photo and he set it down, turned to his children. “All right,” he said, “pack what you need. Let’s get a move on.”

He added the picture to his own cache.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Something caught Lily’s eye as her father was folding up the old box of photos. The corner of a glossy 5x7 was sticking up from the edge of the box -- in it, she saw her father’s face, smiling, looking extremely young.

She helped him shove it back into the corner of the attic with a scrape of cardboard on plywood and he stood, head still bent down in the cramped space so as not to crack his skull on the slanted beams.

William was already heading back down the rickety ladder onto the landing below them, the hollow sound of his steps on the aluminum like the beat of a drum.

“You okay, Lil?” her father asked, his eyes squinted at her in concern. She was still kneeling by the box.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling at him, and glanced around the attic, at the memories their family had built up over the years. She hoped they’d be able to revisit them one day. Deep down she was afraid this might be the last time she saw some of these things -- an old box of her brother’s LEGOs, her Raggedy Ann, the doll’s black button eyes fixed and sightless, a wispy cobweb hanging limply off her yarn hair.

“Let’s get out of here, then,” he said, and reached down to help her up.

Before she took it, she reached out and pulled at the glossy photo, sliding it easily out of the box and slipping it surreptitiously into her back pocket as she stood. It crinkled in her jeans as she walked toward the attic ladder with her father behind her, as she moved on toward she knew not what.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Scully sat in her car with her keys in her hand, staring at the woman’s house, debating whether or not to get out.

She had faith in her husband and all her things in a suitcase, but there was still a small part of her that didn’t quite believe the tale Olivia Kurtzweil had told them. In all their years working together on the X-Files, Mulder had always been the engine, and she had always been the brake -- and the impulse to tap the pedal when faced with the fantastic had never left her, even after more than a decade out of the basement office.

She drummed her nails on the steering wheel once and then made a decision, shoving the keys into the pocket of her coat, double checking that her service weapon was in order, and sliding out of her car and onto the sidewalk. She wanted one last talk with the woman before committing to this drastic course of action.

It hadn’t been easy to find Kurtzweil’s address -- even with the Bureau’s resources at her fingertips. She’d had to call in a favor to a friend with ties to the State Department to get it.

The street Kurtzweil lived on was quiet, just outside of Pentagon City. Parking on the street was by permit only, and there were hardly any cars. The house was a one-story ranch with a long porch, big enough for two rocking chairs, which were tilted at an angle toward each other just-so. The landscaping was impeccable and there weren’t any bugs in the porch lights. Olivia ran a tidy ship that Scully could appreciate.

She hesitated one last time at the door before reaching for the doorbell. She’d debated the merits of coming unannounced and had settled on the element of surprise -- hoping if the woman were lying about anything, unprepped and unrehearsed, Scully might be able to suss out lie from truth.

She heard the bell ring inside the house and waited for muffled footsteps or perhaps the bark of a dog. She was met with silence. She gave it about another ten seconds before ringing the bell again. When there was still no answer, she walked over to the garage and stood on tiptoes to peer through the window. There was a BMW parked inside. Scully made her way back to the door, and reached up to give it a knock. When her knuckles hit the wood the door gave an inch and suddenly feeling unsettled, Scully pushed it slowly the rest of the way open.

Just inside the door there was a purse laying on its side and a cascade of unopened mail fanned out on the floor. A chill ran up Scully’s spine and she reached for her sidearm, suddenly glad she’d brought it.

“Olivia?” she called tentatively, before taking a step inside, the gun held out in front of her, listening sharply for any hint of sound. None came.

She swept the perimeter of the entryway, all her senses on high alert. Hearing nothing, she called out Olivia’s name again. Still silence.

She turned the corner into the main part of the living area -- an open concept living room, dining room, kitchen, and nothing looked out of place. She edged her way slowly into the kitchen, and that’s when she saw it; two feet sticking out behind a large island in the kitchen.

Scully darted forward and slid to her knees next to the woman, quickly taking in what she saw before her: Olivia Kurtzweil had been shot, a double-tap to the head and one to the heart--a professional kill. Knowing she wouldn’t find it, Scully reached out to feel for a pulse in the woman’s neck. Her body was still warm.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Mulder stood in the elevator, his finger hovering over the ‘12.’ It was one of the newer office buildings outside the district, a high rise of dark glass and steel. He thought maybe he should have called first, but hadn’t wanted to risk it. Finally, he depressed the button and the elevator lurched to life.

On the twelfth floor, the doors opened to a brightly lit lobby, the walls and floor all stark white granite. There was a sleek reception desk ahead, manned by an even sleeker looking young blond woman, who looked at him expectantly as he approached.

“Hello,” she smiled, not showing teeth, “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Lauren Williams,” he hedged, and the woman’s eyebrows shot up.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked.

“No,” he said, and started to wonder if he should have come at all.

“Okay,” the woman said slowly, narrowing her eyes, “I can call her assistant and ask if she can see you. Your name?”

Mulder felt like a bug under a microscope.

“Tell her it’s Fox,” he said.

She nodded.

“One moment.”

Mulder glanced at his watch. They were supposed to be on the road in four hours. This was a last minute stop for him, a barely thought-out ‘what if’ plan C in case the whole thing went to shit.

When he glanced back up, the receptionist was looking at him expectantly.

“She’ll be out in a moment,” she said, and Mulder smiled his thanks and took a few awkward steps back.

There was a small waiting area to the left of reception, but the seats looked more modern than comfortable, and the entire space had a disinfected don’t-sit-here vibe to it. Set dressing.

After a moment he heard the efficient clicks of approaching heels, and turned to see his ex-wife coming out of a metal door that he’d thought was a wall.

“Fox?” she said, her face one of pleased surprise.

“Lauren,” he said, as she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “I’m sorry to drop in on you like this. You look well.”

She did. She was in a crisp grey suit that was likely Chanel or Hermes, and trim as ever. Her face looked sculpted and her skin clear and bright. Not a wrinkle to be found. A mild cloud of the same perfume she always wore clung to her, lending her an air of sophistication where it may have made other women seem like they were trying too hard. She leaned back, holding onto one of his forearms and gave him an assessing look.

“You look… worried,” she finally said, her eyes narrowing a bit in concern.

He didn’t reply, and she turned to the receptionist.

“Thank you, Amanda,” she said smartly and inclined her head toward the metal door/wall which clicked open as they approached it.

She led him down a long hallway, with glass conference rooms lining one side and open concept work stations along the other. At the far end, she opened a floor-to-ceiling glass door and led him into a large and immaculate corner office.

Mulder raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” he said, “it’s been a while.” She shut the door behind them and gestured to a small sitting area off to the side of the office. It was more welcoming than the lobby seating had been, and he slid into one of the chairs gratefully.

“Executive Vice President,” she said proudly, and took the chair opposite him. She settled into the leather of the seat and leveled a look at him. “You okay, Fox?”

Mulder glanced at the door, at the bustle of the office beyond it. No one seemed to pay them any mind.

“I’m…” he started, “we’re in some trouble.”

“You and Scully?” Lauren asked kindly, “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” Mulder smiled, “she’s good, she’s…”

He fumbled a bit. Not quite sure where to start.

“Is it money?” Lauren asked. “Do you need-”

Mulder cut her off, laughing uncomfortably. He and Scully both made a very good living, and his father’s estate would have kept them more than afloat even if they didn’t. He huffed a deep sigh, and she sat quiet and patient, looking at him in concern.

“Our family is in danger, Lauren,” he finally said, “and we need to disappear for a little while.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Is it Scully’s work at the FBI?” she started, “Is it-”

He once again cut her off.

“Listen, I don’t want to tell you much for your own protection. The less you know, the better.”

She nodded, her brow furrowed with concern.

“The reason I’m here is… we’re going away for a while. Headed to the Midwest.” She remained silent, waiting for him to continue. “Do you… does your aunt still have that hunting camp up in Michigan?”

He saw a small smile crack through her unease. Lauren’s Aunt Clio was half Williams Family Secret, half Williams Family Legend. A bright, effusive personality, she was blustery and smart, and unpretentious to the point of embarrassment, as far as Lauren and her upper-crust-endeavoring parents were concerned. She lived in Ohio, where she and Lauren’s father had been raised, ten years the man’s senior. She kept a hunting camp in the eastern Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Camp Hi Early. She hunted deer throughout the state’s archery season and had told a story at Mulder and Lauren’s wedding reception about running at a bear with an axe from the outhouse. The story had mortified Lauren at the time -- Mulder had just been delighted. Aunt Clio had been drinking straight whiskey at the party, and had just been about to tell Mulder a story of running ‘shine when Lauren had pulled him away and to the dance floor. Mulder had never forgotten it, or her.

“Aunt Cli died last year,” she said with a begrudging smile. Mulder marveled. The woman must have been close to a hundred years old. Lauren’s eyes met his. “But she left me the camp.”

“You still have it?” Mulder asked, amazed, “it doesn’t seem like your kind of… scene.”

Lauren laughed.

“That it’s not. But there’s a mining company that has its eyes on the northern 100 acres, and if they get their hands on it whether from me or from someone I might sell to, Clio Williams will haunt me from the grave.”

Mulder laughed, felt something loosen in his chest.

“If you need it, it’s yours, Fox,” Lauren said, the humor dissipating from her voice.

He leaned back in the chair.

“We probably won’t need it,” he said, “it’s just something I thought of as a distant Plan C. But if we need to get out fast -- if we need to go somewhere we can’t be found…”

Lauren nodded and stood, moved over to her desk.

“It’s rustic, Fox,” she said, and sat down in the chair, pulling open a desk drawer. “And not charming-rustic. It’s rustic-rustic. And likely in disrepair. I sent a local handyman out there this past spring. He assured me that the roof doesn’t leak and the windows aren’t broken, but that’s about it.” She was rifling distractedly though the drawer. “I’m not sure how well outfitted it is, and It’s probably overrun with mice and squirrels. He said it looked like a moose had been gnawing on the siding…”

“It’ll be a last resort,” he said seriously.

Lauren paused and looked at him.

“Bad?” she asked.

“Pretty bad,” he nodded.

She winced and stood, an envelope in her hand. She made her way over to him and raised it.

“This is the key to the padlock on the cabin door,” she said, “and a map to the camp. The handyman I hired drew it up for me, not the other way around, mind you. I haven’t been out there since I was a kid and Aunt Cli took me up there to teach me to shoot. There’s the boondocks and there’s this. I’m talking county highway to a dirt road to a two-track. A seasonal road that the county doesn’t plow. I don’t even know if an SUV can get in there. The road to Camp may be impassable...” she handed him the envelope.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he said.

Lauren reached out and squeezed his shoulder, the concern on her face cutting rare lines into her perfect skin.

“I want you to check in with me, let me know you’re okay,” she said, “do you feel safe doing that?”

Mulder nodded, put his hand over hers where it rested on her shoulder, squeezed.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I’m serious, Fox,” she said, “if I call, you answer your fucking phone. I’m scared for you. For the kids and Dana.”

“I promise,” he said, giving her hand one last squeeze before he rose to leave. “I’ll send you a number when I’ve got one.”

His phone rang then, like a premonition. He answered.

“Mulder?” Scully said into his ear, her voice shaky with panic. He heard the slam of a car door. “We have to leave. Now.”

[spookyseraphs]

supernatural and the x-files (specifically destiel and msr) parallels

this was intended to convert my spn friends to txf and my txf friends to spn and then it got out of hand. i got tired of finding sources for everything, so you’ll just have to trust me, i’m an expert on both subjects.

cas=scully

cas/scully's faith in god vs dean/mulder being non-believers (but believing in the other) (spn) (txf)

cas being the healer, scully being a doctor (spn) (txf)

cas is supposed to guard the michael sword but falls in love vs scully sent to debunk the x-files but falls in love (spn) (txf) 

cas and scully are both immortal (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/scully's families hate dean/mulder (spn) (txf)

cas/scully coming to believe in humanity/the paranormal (spn) (txf)

i'm an angel vs i'm a medical doctor (spn doesn’t have a compilation)   (txf)

they’re not like... the best drivers

hello dean vs mulder it’s me (spn) (txf)

dean=mulder

dean/mulder's fucked up fathers (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder's eldest child syndrome and their unhealthy need to protect their younger sibling (spn) (txf)

dean/mulder being the best in their respective fields (hunting and criminal profiling) and being well known for it

dean/mulder and their porn habits (spn) (txf)

no one has ever hated themselves the way dean and mulder hate themselves (spn) (txf)

dean and mulder both have issues with fire (spn) (txf)

both die, get buried, and then come back

sunflower seeds vs pie

also they both hate nazis (spn) (txf)

yellow fever vs war of the coprophages  (spn) (txf)

ship parallels

blue and green eyes (hazel is close enough)

for some reason theres a pizza man parallel? (spn) (pt 2) (txf) (pt 2)

mulder/krycek vs dean/crowley (spn) (txf) (also)

cas/hannah vs scully/pendrell (poor hannah and pendrell never stood a chance... and died)

also cas/scully get laid ONE TIME (april/ed jerse) and they almost die because of it and then never do it again (spn) (txf)

vs dean/mulder having plenty of love interests/hookups

cas/scully have never done anything wrong ever

dean/mulder... sigh... i love them... but they've made some questionable decisions (i'm looking at you mulder: fucking the vampire THE EP AFTER SCULLY'S ABDUCTION AND WHILE WEARING HER CROSS and dean, kicking cas out and locking jack in the ma’lak box?? really guys?) (spn) (txf)

creators who think their relationship is platonic despite everyone with eyes saying otherwise (spn) (txf)

also the way that neither were ever written or intended to be romantic

the fandoms were split heavily between shippers and non shippers 

they also both had to have scenes changed because they were being played too romantic

a kiss was cut from the episode memento mori and gillovny were always trying to hold hands (x)

jackles forever wanting to cradle misha's face and the cut i love you from the crypt scene (x)

just... gillovny vs cockles in general, i am not a real person shipper, HOWEVER they are both messy (spn) (txf)

their first meetings? iconic. chemistry? immaculate. dean/mulder are super defensive but tbh cas/scully fell in love at first sight (spn) (txf)

they also had no concept of personal space pretty much immediately (spn) (txf)

they have a baby (that has magic powers) together that they lose twice (jack dies and becomes god, william/jackson is adopted and then as far as they know he dies) (spn) (txf)

cas/scully also have a kind of kid (claire/emily) that dean/mulder are willing to co-parent regardless of the fact that they definitely aren't theirs (spn) (txf)

we get an i love you that still doesn't get taken seriously or make them canon (stuck in the middle (with you) and triangle) (spn) (txf)

dean keeping cas's trenchcoat vs mulder keeping scully's cross (spn) (txf)

they go absolutely batshit when the other is in danger or dies/is dying (spn) (txf)

they're also known and used by their enemies as each other's weaknesses (spn) (txf)

msr being mistaken as a couple vs every angel and demon cracking jokes about destiel being a couple (spn) (txf)

skinner and sam just off to the side looking frustrated while msr and destiel are having a couples moment (spn) (txf)

eating each others food (spn) (txf)

appreciating each others interests (spn) (and this one) (txf)

parallels except the roles are swapped

dreamland/small potatoes vs casifer, i just think scully/dean should have realized IMMEDIATELY (spn) (txf)

mulders fight the future speech vs cas's confession (spn) (txf)

they should have kissed and didn't

it almost ambiguously canonizes them both

AND THE SECRET TAPES, the most famous msr kiss isn't an actual canon kiss, it's a blooper of gillian and david making out in front of the camera (two different times) and it wasn't scripted it was literally just them messing around (x)

this is me manifesting jackles dropping the tapes and those tapes having the same energy

they just really love each other (spn) (txf)

non ship/general parallels

leyla harrison vs becky rosen being fandom stand ins (spn) (txf)

they were supposed to end on season 5

Good but bad (absolutely iconic) sci-fi shows

they both had two finales which both sucked

they shared soooo many cast and crew and both filmed in vancouver

they're such similar shows, motw/story episodes, the funny and serious episodes, dealing with the paranormal, they're basically siblings

also siblings in the way that they handle racism, misogyny and consent/rape/bodily autonomy

the supernatural book series vs the movie made about mulder and scully (spn) (txf)

mystery spot vs monday (spn) (txf)

tall tales vs bad blood  (spn) (txf)

 the benders vs home (spn) (txf)

why did both shows use live bees??? (spn) (txf)

the fbi's most wanted and the fbi's most unwanted (also everyone involved looks cute as fbi agents) (spn) (look how cute!) (txf) (cuties!!)

the syndicate vs heaven and the cigarette smoking man vs god

the bunker vs the basement office

every single side character on both shows deserved better!!! most of them literally didn't need to die!!! and i'm still angry!!!

the poor brothers adam milligan and charlie scully existing and then being literally forgotten about until the last season

the fandoms living for things cut from the scripts (spn) (txf)

team free will vs mulder, scully, and skinner

these ones are shippy, but more my opinion than factual

both pairs just keep getting traumatic events dumped on them for absolutely no reason

cas/scully both have major exasperated why do i love this man vibes

absolutely most iconic and slowest slow burn romances of all time and are just the longest games of will they/won't they, baiting, and were never INTENDED to be slow burns

they're always willing to die/kill for each other, however they WILL NOT talk about their feelings under any circumstances

in the field where i died, mulder says that he and scully have been around each other in past lives but never romantically and according to chuck, every other universe's castiel just pulled dean out of hell and listened to his orders

SO in these other lives/universes they were always linked to each other but only in this life/universe do they fall in love

the last seasons really fuck up my favorite characters

dean should not be that shitty to jack OR cas for that matter

and mulder shouldn't have left scully and william (and dearest dana?? DANA?)

and, controversial opinion, but cas/scully could do so much better and deserve so much better but dean/mulder... it's the best they'll ever get

HOWEVER, i feel like their love is MORE powerful BECAUSE cas/scully could do better but they don't want better or normal they want dean/mulder and they will fight to the death for it, it's not the easy choice, it's just what they want

and i say this with all the love in the world for both dean and mulder, but cas could have just followed his orders and returned to heaven like every other version of himself did. scully could have easily found a normal man to settle down and have 2.5 kids with. dean was always going to be stuck in chuck's plans, and mulder absolutely could not just go find a wife to settle down with.

cas/scully put up with SO MUCH SHIT from dean/mulder, while being ALWAYS FAITHFUL to them, it was never the easy option to love these men and stay by their sides, it was hard and they worked for it!!!

they’re both the greatest love story ever told, they tied

[tatyana-dreaming]

Potenza irresistibile: Leonora is Unstoppable

aka an empowered reading of (yet another) tragic opera heroine

aka my thoughts on Il Trovatore pt 3

(title from Manrico’s line in Act 2: Potenza irresistibile hanno de' fiumi l'onde! - The waves of the rivers have an irresistible force!)

with pictures because I have provided you ample walls of text as it is

Quick aside before we get into the libretto: in part 2 I concluded that both Azucena and Leonora are the only ones who really get what they want in this opera, and I think it’s pretty clear with Azucena... “Sei vendicata, o madre!” (even if we are unclear if she intentionally organized Manrico’s death and/or was conflicted by it or not).

Leonora. “I just came out to have a good time and honestly I’m feeling so attacked right now.” @ Ines, @ di Luna, even @ Manrico at the end

Because, out of everyone in this opera, Leonora is... happy? (I mean, yeah, she’s kind of set 100% of her hopes and dreams on this guy, and when she thinks he’s dead, she’s ready to head to the convent to pray to God until she can be reunited with him in death, saying “un riso, una speranza, un fior la terra non ha per me!”  - earth no longer has for me laughter, hope, or flowers! But look at her circumstances and context, and it’s still a choice she’s making, herself, about how she wants to live. Respect.)

[sociological examination about religious/cultural factors influencing WHY she would make that particular choice: coming to a bookstore near you in 2022]

“I swear go God, Ines (literally, I just did) can you just support me for once and trust me on this” (jk I love Ines she’s just doing her best too)

Okay, but to get back to the point... Leonora just has this sparkle. She’s filled with life and joy and happiness in the beginning (and - while yeah, my 21st century feminist me is like *facepalms* don’t make it dependent on another person, especially not a guy, especially not a guy who isn’t really even that focused on you as a person, but more as a possession he has to jealously protect from Rivals - her joy is revived when Marico returns and honestly thank gosh he does, since otherwise di Luna was gonna wreck those convent plans.) ANYWAYS  - di Luna clearly sees and wants to possess this sparkle, clearly having none of it himself.

Some exerpts from the libretto of this sparkly joy none of the characters ever get....(di Luna tries, haha...“la gioia che m'aspetta, gioia mortal, non è!“ but learns that maybe trying to seize someone against their will isn’t the best way to Spark Joy)

We’ve got Act 1 - “Gioia provai che agl'angeli solo è provar concesso! ...Di tale amor che dirsi mal può dalla parola...”  Joy only the angels can feel...such love that cannot be described by words! - Act 2, upon rescue by/reunion with her beloved - “Non regge a tanto giubilo rapito il cor, sorpreso!”  My surprised heart cannot bear such joy! - and finally, Act 4, once she is certain of saving Manrico - “ Vivrà! Contende il giubilo i detti a me!” He’ll live - my joy strips me of words!

Gosh, for such a tragic opera (if you take it seriously), Leonora is just this bundle of joy. Even in Act 4. It’s impressive.

She just has this energy, and I think it’s some sort of radiance from self-awareness and knowing exactly what she wants. You also may notice Leonora doens’t leave a body count the way di Luna, Manrico, and Azucena do. Well, unless you count herself :( but my point is she’s not about hurting people to get what she wants. And Leonora makes it explicitly clear from Act I: “ S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò” - if I cannot life for him, I will die for him.

Leonora knows what she wants and nothing, NOTHING, and NOBODY is going to get in her way! And HOO BOY does di Luna try! So the convent kidnapping shit he tried to pull with the “not even God can claim [Leonora]” attitude didn’t pan out... but it also proved to Leonora that God wouldn’t necessarily save her (convent-style at least) so she leveled up and remembered OH YEAH PLANTS! *cue Juliet line*:

“ I'll to the friar, to know his remedy: If all else fail, myself have power to die.“

And honestly, she’s badass about it, too. From Act 1, she’s pretty fearless, from the moment Ines expresses fear and doubt about her infatuation with Manrico -

INES: Quanto narrasti di turbamento m'ha piena l'alma! Io temo...   What you say disturbs my soul, I fear [for you!] LEONORA: Invano! [You fear] in vain! (or: don’t fear!)

Leonora’s not afraid. She’s simply on a mission. Once Shit Gets Real and di Luna promises to kill Manrico, maintaining strict alignment with Mission “S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò,”  asking di Luna to “Piombi, piombi il tuo furoresulla rea che t'oltraggiò, vibra il ferro in questo core che te amar non vuol né può”- Let your fury fall on the evil girl who offended you; plunge your sword into this heart that cannot, will not love you!

[again, not condoning Leonora’s choices, such as throwing herself under the ‘di Luna is going to blame Leonora for all his psycho actions’ Bus, but I respect her making her choices and fighting back]

Of course, di Luna is like “YOU CRAZY!” and literally tells Leonora her blood wouldn’t be enough to quell his rage. “l tuo sangue, o sciagurato, ad estinguerlo fia poco!” - Your blood, wretch, would hardly be enough! ~really playing the romance here~ :)

Leonora doesn’t get the point, since in Act 4, she repeats her pleas to exchange her live for Manrico’s - still not getting the Blood is Not Enough memo, apparently - “Svenami, ti bevi il sangue mio!” - Take me out**, drink my blood!

**no, di Luna, she isn’t asking you out on a date (sorry it’s so hard not to just 100% shitpost this opera) - but I couldn’t find a better translation. You don’t really say “faint me” in English and I don’t think the direct translation is “kill” but “take me out” seemed like an acceptable euphemism.

Of course, Leonora ultimately ends up accomplishing her Mission. [Like I said in part 1, my initial reaction to her self-sacrificial death was just anger and disappointment. But in context, she’s pulling a valid Juliet move... her circumstances are awful and suffocating and there are very few ways out for her in the world she lives in... but she ends up exiting the game on her terms.

{At the subjective level, at least. Objectively, her only choices are a vampire who will suck her life dry [di Luna] - in which life might be merciless - or choosing to withdraw from life with Help from Plants [poison] - in which death is merciful. Again, sociological exploration of Leonora’s CHOICE ARCHITECTURE coming to booksellers near you. Might even include Alternate Ending: running away into the mountains with the gypsies instead, but we all know that isn’t part of Mission “S'io non vivrò per esso, per esso morirò.” Plus I think we are all familiar with the concept that as humans we are more likely to stick with the evil we know rather than strike out into the great unknown. Heck, somebody stop me, these asides will be the death by boredom or exasperation of us all. Wait, are you reading this!??! WOW and bless you!! Thanks and I’m sorry}

Unfortunately, Manrico has to be a little turdball and start cursing Leonora, being the jealous self-centered guy that he ultimately is, before he realizes what she’s done to save him. “Manrico I’m literally dying FOR YOU and this is how you repay me?”

In Act 1, she begs di Luna to see reason through his jealous rage, but by Act 4 it’s her own beloved, the person she’s organized her Life Goal around, who is displaying the same jealous, blinding rage, refusing to listen to her. “Oh come l'ira ti rende cieco! Oh quanto ingiusto, crudel, crudel!” Oh how rage blinds you, how injust, how cruel you are [Manrico]!

Oh, the sweet and cruel irony Leonora getting her unconditional, immense, “eternal” love dismissed because Manrico doesn’t get it the way he wanted it [i.e. uh oh are we going to circle back to possessiveness/jealousy? Is Leonora the only one - and granted, she is a little psycho/obsessed/infatuated à la di Luna, but without trying to POSSESS her object of affection -- who can love in a semi-healthy way in this opera?? apparently]. My poor girl. At least Manrico Comes to his Senses before she dies (just in time for him join Leonora’s fate himself). *sad cheering*

Let me end by emphasizing that Leonora did not die JUST to “save Manrico.” Yes, the libretto says “Prima che d'altri vivere, io volli tua morir! “ - Rather than live as another’s, I wanted to die yours. But to me, it’s pretty clear she’s dying for herself - dying as her own self, as hers (I mean, technically she never became Manrico’s “legal property” anyways if we want to get into the morbid lack of womens’ rights, so she wasn’t even “his” in that way). And in the end, choice architecture aside, the point is that all the way, Leonora knew what she wanted, made her own decisions, stayed true to herself, and accomplished what she set her mind to. Nothing and nobody stopped her. Who’s to say what else she might have wanted if she had had different opportunities, choices, knowledge, or most importantly had been born in a different context.

(*faceplams* had been born?!! She’s a fictional character god Karo go to bed already) (*peels hands off face* it’s okay you are processing outrage over the Female Experience and Leonora represents a lot of real women, living and dead)

I conclude. LEONORA IS UNSTOPPABLE. Let’s part with some lovely lines from our complex (if a bit compulsively devoted), tragic, yet joyful, empowered, and fearless heroine:

Tu vedrai che amore in terra mai del mio non fu più forte: vinse il fato in aspra guerra, vincerà la stessa morte. 

You will see that never on earth was there a stronger love than mine; it defeated Fate in violent strife, it will defeat death itself.

*              *              *              *              *               *              *             *        

Screencaps from IL Trovatore (Met 2011) ft. Sondra Radvanovsky, Dmitri Hvorostovsky, and Marcelo Álvarez

[bloodfromthethorn]

Can’t Wake Up

Sitting beside a hospital bed was bad. Sitting beside a hospital bed waiting for your friend to wake up so he could tell you who had kidnapped your missing partner was oh so much worse.

Part six of the July of Whump 2021 prompt challenge.

Also on AO3. 

..

It was starting to feel like Jack had spent more of his nights sitting in uncomfortable hospital chairs beside uncomfortable hospital beds than he had sleeping in his own apartment. No doubt if he were here, Mac would laugh at the notion and spout of some facts about the psychology of time moving slowly when you’re worrying about something, but then, that was rather the issue, wasn’t it? Mac wasn’t here.

Instead, what Jack had was a house in total disarray, a missing EOD tech, and a heavily drugged best friend who, six hours after being found, was still absolutely refusing to stir.

Arriving at Mac’s house to find the tell-tale signs of a fight and no blond in sight was a memory Jack never, ever wanted to repeat. Then he’d quite literally stumbled over Bozer’s body where it had slumped down beside the kitchen counter and Jack had momentarily forgotten all thoughts of Mac in his desperate scramble to find a pulse. He didn’t breathe again until he did, nearly collapsing with relief when he established Bozer was alive and seemingly not hurt.

Of course, he then had to revise that assessment when the paramedics he’d summoned discovered the track mark on the crook of Bozer’s elbow. Some hurried bloodwork panels had identified a heavy-duty anaesthetic that shouldn’t pose any real health risk, thank god, but that still left him sleeping it off while Mac was in trouble out there somewhere in the world. Even with Riley digging through every security camera and system she could find, the afternoon had slipped away with absolutely no progress on where Mac had gone or who might have taken him.

Somehow, someone had managed to get into Mac’s neighbourhood, break into his house without tripping the alarm, dose Bozer and nab Mac, and then flee the scene without ever once showing their face. Riley hadn’t even managed to identify a vehicle out of place on traffic cams – they’d momentarily thought they got lucky when they spotted a handyman van, but one completely unnecessary tac-team raid and a very confused plumber later, Matty was left making apologies and Jack returned to Boze’s bedside without success.

He ran a frustrated hand over his face with a sigh.

It felt like his day had been going on for a hundred years, but the very thought of sleeping was impossible. Mac needed him and despite what the nurses had been trying to tell him for hours now, Boze wasn’t looking so hot either. According to the Phoenix med team, he just needed to sleep off the drug and then he should bounce right back; even if they were wrong, they were keeping him in for observation to make sure they caught any unforeseen negative reactions. Jack wasn’t entirely convinced – he wouldn’t be until Boze opened his eyes again and, hopefully, told them what happened to Mac.

Without anything else to go on, Bozer was their only lead and he wasn’t waking up. If he didn’t – or if he did and he didn’t know where Mac was – Jack had no idea what he was going to do. Something Mac wouldn’t approve of, probably.

For now though, Jack couldn’t focus on that. All he could do was sit there and monitor the slightest changes in Boze’s vital signs as he gradually came out of sedation. Riley had wanted to be right there with him, but her connection was better in the War Room, and being able to use the big screen came in handy when she was juggling too many data feeds at once; the compromise they’d struck was that Jack had promised to call her the second anything changed with Boze, and she’d agreed to do the same if she found any information about his missing partner. So far, his phone hadn’t buzzed once.

“I don’t know if you can hear me in there man,” he said quietly to the silent room, “But if you can, I really need you right now buddy. Mac really needs you.”

Boze slept on, undisturbed. Jack took a shaky breath, sighed, and leaned back to settle in for the wait.

..

No matter how much Jack hoped and prayed and stressed and bargained, the clock ticked past midnight without a single stir. Another blood test had revealed that the levels of the drug pumping through Bozer had decreased substantially, but it was still clinging on. Jack was of half a mind to demand they get him hooked up to a dialysis machine to speed up the whole process, but even with everything going on he could understand that the risks outweighed any possible benefits. He wasn’t about to gamble with Boze’s life on the off-chance he had information about Mac.

Mostly he whiled away the time staring into space and desperately trying not to think of where his partner might be in that moment. Unfortunately, he never had been particularly good at not assuming the worst, and he had a long, dark history of run-ins with the lowest of the low to provide him with some truly impressive imagination.

He was able to distract himself for a brief while when his primary tac-team switched out at the end of their shift. All of them requested to be kept on despite the fact that they’d been working for a solid twelve hours – Mac was well-liked, and Jack had made a point of ensuring he got to know the boys with guns who always ended up running in to save the day – but he’d insisted they go home to get some rest. When they’d refused, citing his own hypocrisy since he had no intention of leaving the medical bay, he’d let them bully him into agreeing to call them when they got a lead on Mac. With that sorted, he’d settled in to brief the replacement shift who’d all immediately grasped the seriousness of the situation. At the rate they were going, by the time they did eventually catch up with Mac, Jack would have half of downtown LA backing him up.

“How’re you doing, man?” He asked when he returned to Bozer’s room. The nurses had been given orders to call him if anything changed, but it was clear at a glance nothing had. “You’re making me sleepy just looking at you, y’know?”

Like practiced steps of a dance, he shuffled back into his seat and cursed as his bones protested.

Twenty minutes later, the door cracked open and Riley inched her way inside with a coffee holder in one hand and her rig in the other. When he scrambled up to help her, she thrust the two coffee cups in his direction and planted herself firmly in the second chair to resettle the laptop on her knee. Programs Jack wasn’t about to try to even understand whirred away on the screen.

“One on the left is yours,” she said in greeting, nodding at the coffees. “Thought you could probably use some caffeine if you aren’t going to sleep.”

“Hey, hey, you don’t get to hassle me about it when you’re still here too. When was the last time you slept, huh?”

She sighed heavily, reached for her coffee, and shook her head. “It feels like years ago.”

The best Jack could offer her was a grim smile and a gentle knock to the shoulder as he retook his place at Bozer’s bedside. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“I still haven’t found anything,” she said after a long moment of looking over her slumbering friend. Jack already knew that because she’d have told him if she had, but the self-accusation in her voice was hard to miss. He whipped around to face her.

“Sweetheart, that’s not on you. You’re doing everything you can and sometimes that just ain’t enough. It’s not your fault.”

She digested that for a moment, and Jack got to watch the heart-breaking shift when the last ten hours caught up to her and her gaze suddenly turned watery. He had his arms out and was pulling her into his tightest hug before she had a chance to say a word.

“It’s okay,” he murmured in her ear as his shirt grew wet. He smoothed down her hair idly with one hand. “Don’t you worry none, it’s going to be alright. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared Jack.” Her voice was small and tremulous.

His breath caught in his throat, heart clenching painfully. “Me too darling. Me too.”

..

For all their waiting, when the moment finally came it all felt a bit anticlimactic. There was a slight uptick in Boze’s heart rate, and then five minutes later his eyes blinked open and he turned to look at the pair of them like nothing was amiss. Jack was so worn down by stress and exhaustion that it took him a second to realise he wasn’t imagining things.

“Boze? You with us?”

He blinked. “Jack? Riley? What-” His eyes did a quick circuit of the room, then down at the wires and monitors he was hooked up to. They let him do the math on his own and by the time he turned back to them, the sleepy haze had entirely vanished. “Guys, Mac’s in trouble.”

They’d known it all along, really, but the confirmation still felt a bit like being stabbed with a rusty blade. Still, Jack limited himself to just nodding. “We know Boze. We were kinda hoping you could help us out with what happened.”

Bozer was already trying to pull himself up, tugging off his pulse ox and chest tabs as he went then glaring at the monitors as though it was their fault they were suddenly beeping in alarm. Riley pointedly leaned over and flicked them off in turn. “You remember that mission three months ago, in Bolivia?” Boze was saying. “With the human traffickers?”

Riley was already tapping away at her laptop, pulling up mission reports and key phrases and a whole host of information Jack was distantly sure she should have access to.

“Yeah,” he said instead of questioning it. “We cut off the supply and took down that big guy running the thing. Cameron?”

“Callahan,” Riley corrected without looking up.

“Yeah,” Bozer agreed instantly, snapping his fingers. It was hard to remember how still he’d been just a moment ago now that he was all but vibrating with animation. “Him. Turns out he had a brother. Guy busted in through the back, got the drop on me and Mac. Brought some friends with him for good measure. I didn’t catch all of it, but he said something about wanting to make him pay for letting his ‘merchandise’ go.”

Something sick turned over in the pit of Jack’s stomach but now was not the time to dwell on the more horrific aspects of society. Now was the time for action, and if Jack had his way that action was going to be violence.

Riley’s fingers were like lightning over her keyboard.

“Ri, you got something for me?”

She didn’t break stride. “Not yet, but I think I’m about to. Go get your team, I’ll call you.”

Jack hopped to his feet with sudden energy, clapping a warm hand to Bozer’s shoulder before snagging his jacket and darting from the room. That was one member of his team safe – now it was time to save the other.

Now continued in part 2. 

[moxazza-blog]

A hand in play

As trading card inspector settled in Southern Dakota, you are on your way to judge the symposium in your city, there have been some judgings that you've been unable to get to, but you're feeling fresh and in with the sport. The first thing you do is rearrange your trading card folder. It's a lot of work, but you figure you can make the most out of this time by getting all the information on your cards and putting them into one place. These cards you have accumulated as of the most newish seem to fly off the trading card stock, bloomingly. Well, you get to the symposium, and are quite surprised to find that Jacob is there. "Dude, I went to your house…you're here." "Been here the whole time, man. Didn't know you'd be here though. You like what you see?" You say "Some of these were downright from the last collection, friend" "Yeah, the last collection you had was a good one." Jacob grins, and continues to think for a second. "Oh yeah! Speaking of good ones…I got another one for you!" You say "oh yeah?" Jacob stands up and extends a folder, which you take. "It's about 90% complete. You in?" Your eyes widen "Hell yeah!" This is gonna be awesome! There's about a two page spread of the new collection, which you can't help but grin at as you flip through it. The images are all in color and crystal clear. You say "hey, Jacob, I've been meaning to tell you this, but I think I might have a world record in some of my newer cards.." Jacob looks up from the folder. "Yeah? Go on." You grin with anticipation "I've got the youngest person to own a katorm!" Jacob looks at you with surprise. You say "Yeah, and if that isn't overzealous enough I've also got the.." Jacob continues to look at you, with a surprised look. "The what?" You put on your best look of seriousness. "the Tallest man to own a katorm!" Jacob says "wow, that is really amazing. do you think that anybody besides me would truly care? Or would they just think I was just being arrogant." "I wouldn't be surprised if someone else has the same record, I was only able to get to like, 3 people taller than me before they stopped measuring. You say "well, let's get on down to the central seating" You look over the map once more, and make your decision. "Jacob, come on let's go see the new cafeteria!" as the two walk on down to the cafeteria, a moment strikes you when you waddle onto an ownerless folder of some cards. You pick it up and flip through the pages, some of which have missing images, but most are still there. Suddenly, you get that chills you always get when looking at some of the rarest, most valuable cards in the world. You say "holy shit, would you take a look at what I've just found!" Jacob is as impressed as you are amazed. "That's, that's insane! How the hell did you find a set of World Record folders?" You grin widely, as Jacob slowly opens the folder. "God, I can't believe it!" As Jacob reads through the folder, you continue to flip through the cards. "These are listed at 1,000,000,000,000 Valparasio Gold Coins." "Whoa." "That's not a misprint, that's real money!" Jacob begins to flip through the folder with you. you just decided to jump on out of there, even before someone else might see you, and attack your kingsly loot. You get to the next train, with haste. The two of you ride down to the next station, Jacob slowing down to make his way through the forest of people. You say "this is a really kingsly ransom. once you've owned it for more than a couple of minutes, you'll really get to cataloging it" Jacob grins from ear to ear. "I can't wait to come back here and see how much I've grown to have." You chuckle. "Well me too." You say: "but the foremostly me, Jacob, my dear friend" Jacob puts the folder in his pocket and continues to make his way through the crowd. "Well, we should get on down to the next station before it starts getting dark. You shrug your shoulders as the two of you make your way down to the next stop. Soon, the two of you are on the platform for the last stop on the line. A single light burns there, illuminating the shapes of the few people on the platform. "Well, this is it. our stop." Jacob says. "Yeah. I should get off here." You say "do note, not to take any of the come upping to another trading carder" Jacob seems a bit worried. "But why, why would I need to do that!" You raise an eyebrow, and lean in a little closer. You say: "because you want to" You lean in a little closer. "Because this is a really rare folder, and I've become the one to take it." Jacob looks down, shuffling his feet a bit. "Well.. okay." You nod your head slowly, as if to say 'thank you.' Then, you nod again. Soon enough, you were both at Jacob's place. You hopped out of the carriage, and waved it down the road. As you walk with Jacob towards his house, you find yourself twisting the folder in your hands. Looking it over, and over again. Truly the most happenstance day that you've had, and in equal parts most frightening and exciting. A rare feeling of happiness washes over you. "So, uhm…." Jacob begins, a bit nervously. "Do you mind if I ask what your plan is?" Well, I am immediately going to take some of the higher esteemed cards and exchange them for money. One by one, as I set footing into truly owning this collection. I plan to use it as my primary source of money, as I'm sure it will be for years to come. You show no signs of stress, as Jacob continues to speak. Then, you get to work. You begin selling the most prized cards slowly, making sure to always keep at least one of each batch. Then one by one the tale was told next to the several month inning, you were spending lavishly, and had more money than ever did you did have. You loosened up a bit at this. Then, you finally got around to selling your own collection. After a few weeks, you had made enough money to pay off your father's debt, and go off to further pursue your dreams of becoming a trader. On along, there was a symposium that came and left, but you were up to the right next one after that. Jacob in compliance. You stopped for a break at one of the rest stops along the way, and Jacob begins to do some sell in his left hand. "So.. ?" He looks up at you, smiling. You say "good trading day? Man, let me tell you, I've been having it flushed" Jacob laughs, raising his hand. "Nah, man. It's been alright. Some good, but some bad too. You'll see in a while." Backing a nack you were on to seeing the second presentation, and it turned out you were the second to present. You got up there and began to tell the crowd about the folder, exchanging glances with Jacob who gave you the 'get to work' glance at the right time. Sparing no expanse at relaying whatever it was about each card, but limiting yourself fully in accordance with having found this set at that time. It was a success, and the crowd loved it, giving you a loud round of applause when you were done. Next up it was Jacob's turn to get up and tell the crowd about his findings, and you couldn't help but feel a bit of anxiety as people listened with bated breath to what he had to say. He went up beaming, like you had done before you. "The files, a set of trading cards that have been around for more than a century, and we have found them!" He paused, looking around at the crowd. You say "Oh god, what has he done now!" "We have found the copy of the first bend set!" You heard someone in the crowd exclaim, and you saw Jacob jump a little. "Yeah!" You say "This was down to the nitty gritty what with this ole storymanship." Jacob looks at you briefly, before continuing. "We have found the first collection of trading cards, with the first bend set on them!" He's exclaiming it fully now, in direct inaccordance with what you have explained. "We have found the very first set of trading cards made for the sole purpose to be used as a part of a pack of playing cards!" You say "Oh no he has gone on and done it! Shit, we better get out hastily." Jacob nods. You say "This was Jacob fully explaining about the dastardly event we were meant to keep secret" Jacob pauses for a second, before smiling at you. "Told you it was all going to work out." You smile back, relieved that your friends confidence in you and his decision had paid off for him. Or so it was most to see…. "And now, I got something special for you guys." Jacob announces. You get the impression he's talking about more than just this find. "What is it?" You ask, as Jacob stands up. "You'll see in a minute." With that cryptic answer, Jacob makes his way off the stage, and towards the back of the room. "What's going on?" Someone asks. "Hush!" The man behind the desk says, looking around before standing up and walking towards the exit. The room is silent, as you begin to wonder what the hell Jacob has managed to find. You see a man walk onto the stage, and you frown, knowing who it is. "Hello." He says, looking out at the audience. There's an awkward silence, which you try to break. "Um, Harvey Kielling is here?" You say. "Yes, and correct you if you can." He smiles. Once more, this was down to the nitty gritty. Was he really the owner of the cards? It can't be. But then, he's been everywhere the cards have, and that includes London. He owns a store that specializes in them, and he has written books on the subject, at least two of which you've read. He will not ask for them back, as so it figures. You sigh in relief and say "Righto! That about does it, as you call for Jacob to leave." "Right!" You say, standing up. "I'll do the talking, you call for Harvey and tell him that we're leaving." Jacob nods nervously. "Right, I'll go get him." You nod, as Jacob quickly leaves the stage, and heads down the isle. You watch him go, before turning to look at the crowd of people watching you. They all seem to be enjoying themselves, but this does nothing but make you feel self-conscious. You look at the man who runs the museum, he's taking notes on a little pad, oblivious to what everyone else there is thinking. He spots you looking at him, and winks before returning to writing. You say "Say, is Jacob even going to amount to this plea." Jacob foots strongly toward Harvey, this was down to the lively wire. Once he had asked him for the cards, you had a decision to make: Help him, or let him take the fall and lie about how he came to have the cards. You had thought it through. Since you were up to it, these first ever set of trading cards were printed in at least a duplicate, so it'd take some guts to explain away. Jacob had a reputation for getting caught doing stuff by his parents, and this was no exception. He would lie, and claim he had found the cards, along with claiming you had stolen them. Well, he did. and as much bad luck as that was, it wasn't going to stop you. Jacob looked up at Harvey, who looked down at him, then back at you. "Harvey?" He says in a quavering tone. Harvey looked like he was going to go postal, but then gave a little smile. "Jacob, you scared me there." He chuckles. "Jacob, you snuck out of the house and came all this way here I caught you red handed with my cards. I think it's only natural to assume I'll press charges. But, since I am a nice guy, I'm going to let you give them back to me. Not right now though, I think you know what that means. Without me hearing a word, the two had their bargain up, to quote. You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen, Harvey had a very intimidating stare, but Jacob had no fear. Soon as Jacob came down around, he found it very explanatory to confess, but he rather held his pose. "Well" you said, "let's get on out while we still can." You take your leave of the museum, with Jacob hobbling along behind you, and soon as you were out in the open, you snapped him back. Snapped back the camarader. "How long till we get home?" You ask. Jacob thinks for a second at his answer. "Oh, about a hour and a half." Half an hour too right, and we were up to my station of the neighborhood. Now, who would have guessed it, besides Jacob, that Harvey Kielling was there in turn to accomplish setting down the feat of having his cards returned. Many of them you had sold already. But, in a little while you made it home, as the sun was beginning to lower. Then you gangplanked into him. Harvey Kielling in all his right. You say "So, is this going to come down to a fight, or a lawyer mess, both of which you would sorely lose?" You're a teenage delinquent that recently broke into the house of the rich kid, and you've stolen some really nice things… You make that your point right there. "Look," you say, "You make it sound like I don't have a choice." "You don't. But you sure do have a choice of how you're gonna do it." Hmm… Jacob looks at you. "You think you can handle him?" You think for a second. "Well… " You say "Yes." You nod your head. "Okay then, let's do it." Jacob nods slowly, but his smile returns and he grins. "Well then, let's go!" As you thunderbluss the old man, right there on the street corner, nothing had felt this right since bestowing most of the collection on Ebay. You had tackled the old man to the ground, and were in the process of snapping his neck when a voice from behind had stopped you. "What are you doing? Get off!" Jacob said. You spit on Harvey and get on up to your apartment. Like a nimble navigator unsurely getting back to his cocoon.. You were to return home. Harvey was not a trouble for the next week or two. He had then hired a cracker team of private eyes to find you. You never stayed at this place again, and whenever possible, you would stay out of the city or go someplace you have never been before. Ransoming were there to find you three days after you ran your first and only foreclosure operation. It was a one hit wonder. Harvey had gotten everything you had stolen back… And then some… In a dilated money pack, that was. You reminisce of that time at your friend's place. The night is still as black as the heart of the spider. Jacob finds that he has a chuckle or two to spare… You say "That there was the ransom. And I would've gotten to keep this sudden influx of new money, had you just not gone off and telling everybody back there at the colloquium. Which, I am in fact, not going to stick you with." "What?" Harvey says, looking at you. "I don't understand…" "Yeah you do," Jacob smiles. You say "Says it. No wonder" "Oh… Really?" You find yourself laughing out loud, and have to put your hands over your mouth to contain them. "What's so funny?" "That." You chuckle. You say "That, this whole thing. Saved by an Ebay bid. It's comic." Jacob shakes his head and mutters to himself, "So, it seems." That your friend finds himself a bit more at ease in this encounter says it all. Done was it.

[justanecessaryevil]

Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens -  Bottom of the First Inning (Part 1)

This part is pretty long, so I’m cutting it into pieces. Here’s part one! <3 There are a few notes at the bottom.

“.…Huh? I’m being… transferred?”

Saito had just begun to get used to the feel of the plain-colored fitted suit he’d used for job-hunting when he was told the news by his superior, a haughty man who had his hair parted to the side and was leaning casually against his messy desk. What else could he do but stare at the man with bulging eyes.

“That’s right, transferred. Starting from tomorrow,” his superior nodded expressionlessly as he persistently wiped the grime from his glasses. “We’re overstaffed, you see? We gotta put a few more men in places that need them, or so they said.”

Somehow, Saito knew that wasn’t quite true.

He’d made a huge mistake just the other day and he’d been waiting for it to bite him in the ass. But a transfer? Seriously?

“I’d heard our new-hires have been pretty useless lately, but this is just terrible.”

“...I’m sorry.”

So he messed up a job after half a year of training? It was his first job! Isn’t a transfer a bit harsh? It hasn’t even been a year! That’s like telling a rookie player pitching his first game in the big leagues he’s worthless because he gave up eight runs in three innings! The man’s basically saying, “we can’t use you at all, so we’re giving you to another team,” like he’s being traded for nothing before he’d even been given a real chance!

Of course, it’s not like Saito was faultless. He did screw up, after all. But he apologized! Sincerely! To his boss and to the client both! He even got on his hands and knees and prostrated himself! For a company to dish out such a harsh punishment from one mistake is nothing less than abnormal. But, he knew that already, didn’t he? This company is completely abnormal.

“You know what will happen if you don’t show results even after this transfer, right?”

“Yes,” Saito answered immediately, though he didn’t really know. He couldn’t even imagine what might happen.

“It’ll be your head. Make sure you remember that.”

Oh, of course. After a profitless trade, if the player still shows no signs of improvement, they’re contract would be DFA’d. In other words he’d be fired. “I’ll carve it into my memory.”

“You sure you know what I mean?*”

This guy’s mocking me, thought Saito. It’s not like you have to graduate from some prestigious school to understand something like being fired.

“I understand! One more mistake and I’ll be let go.”

“No.” Of course, Saito was no longer a part of such a simple world. “There’s no double meaning. You screw up, we’ll cut your head off.”

A shiver ran down Saito’s spine. He knew full well that was no idle threat. Just a month prior, one of his fellow new-hires had thought of ratting the whole company out to the police. He’d ended up being found dead in a case ruled as a suicide. This wasn’t some dark-web phenomenon, this was a thriving business in the black market. Going against the company was signing your own death warrant, plain and simple.

“So where am I being transferred to?”

“The branch in Fukuoka.”

“What?” Saito cried out thoughtlessly, “Fukuoka?”

There were no good rumors surrounding Fukuoka. On the surface, it was a perfect tourist city, easy to live in, with good food. Dig a little deeper, though, and you’re waist-deep in shit in seconds. It was a criminal’s paradise; a major battlefield for people in the business of killing others in particular. Saito felt like he was being thrown to the frontlines.

“Oh, and be careful, hey? I hear there’s a vigilante* over there.”

“A vigilante?” Those exist? Saito thought with a cock of his head. Sounds like some sort of folktale figure, like Koro-pok-guru or a Kesaran-Pasaran. “What kind of vigilante?”

“A killer of killers. A hitman whose targets are other hitmen. Several of our own have fallen victim to them.”

Well wasn’t that just perfect?

Murder Incorporated.

In the underground, that was what Saito’s company was called. Apparently, during its conception, it had taken influences from a crime syndicate abroad. On the surface, they kept up a front of being a simple temp service, but in reality, the corporation was a hitman’s headquarters.

As he was jostled by the shaking of the bullet train bound for Hakata from Tokyo, Saito was lost in thought. ‘How in the world did I end up getting caught up in such a crazy company? Did I do something wrong? Is this some sort of karma? Thinking about it, ever since I answered that damn interview question, my life’s been on the fast track to rock bottom.’

He’d finally managed to land a job, and of all things, it just had to be as a hitman for a murder contracting company. The first half year after Saito had been hired, he had undergone intensive  training: proper arms management, tailing techniques, lockpicking classes, and even physical training. During that time, the company had lost over half of their new hires.

Saito couldn’t help but think about how different things would be if he had just answered that cursed question with, “I couldn’t do something as horrible as killing someone!” But as he thought more about things he couldn’t change, the gentle shaking of the train car felt so nice, he gradually fell asleep. 

The bullet train continued unerringly down to Fukuoka.

- - -

Lin Xianming’s eyelids were heavy. They were extremely heavy. Not that he was sleepy or anything. It was all because of his false eyelashes. The things were so heavy that if he let his guard down, he was sure his eyelids would droop. 

“With these, even your eyes can be twice as powerful!” the package had advertised, but they were definitely having the opposite effect. Twice as powerful… More like half as effective.

‘Girls sure have it tough, putting these things on all the time,’ Lin reflected in admiration as he got off the train and headed down the sixth exit at the underground subway’s Nakasu Kawabata Station.

The sound of his heels echoed in the tunnel as he walked, his long, straight, brown hair swishing to and fro in time with his steps.

He reconfirmed his target’s address: Fukuoka City, Hakata, Suzakimachi. The target lived in an apartment not fifteen minutes away, walking. He decided on walking over a taxi because it would be troublesome if the driver remembered his face.

Leaving the underground, he headed straight for his destination, only pausing briefly to admire his reflection in a storefront’s glass windows. He was wearing a black dress and long boots. He’d chosen to put on a little more make-up than one would when going for a natural look. No matter what way you looked, he was nothing short of womanly. ‘Alright, I can do this,’ he thought with a nod.

The three lane road called Showa Dori was just up ahead. Lin took the crosswalk over to the other side and headed deeper into the city, quickly finding his target’s plain brown apartment building just around the corner. It was a simple five story building with its name written at the entryway.

His target lived on the fourth floor, in the apartment furthest from the stairway. Room 405. When he rang the interphone, the door opened just slightly shortly after with the door chain set in place. A woman peeked out from the small gap. She was a stupid looking girl who seemed like the type who would easily be pulled in by a man’s charms. She’d surely been asleep. She wore only a pink robe and her hair was in disarray. Even without make-up, Lin thought he was far more beautiful.

“Who are you?” the woman asked.

If Lin had been a strong looking man in black, the woman would surely have never opened the door. She would have probably pretended no one was home until he’d given up. But because Lin looked like a woman, moreover, of a similar type to herself, she’d opened the door.

Ignoring the woman’s question, Lin shot back with his own. “Is Takashi here?”

“W-who’s Takashi?” the woman played dumb, pretending she had no idea. “I don’t know a Takashi.”

What terrible acting, Lin thought, holding back a laugh. Again, he ignored her, instead directing his attention to inside the apartment. “I know you’re in there Takashi!” he shouted. “Who is this girl? Are you two-timing me?”

“Hold on, what?” the girl’s face changed colors at his words. “Two-timing?!”

“You didn’t know either? He was dating me too.”

“No way. You’re lying!”

He was. “Where’s Takashi?”

“He’s in the shower.”

Now that she’d said it, Lin could hear the sound of the shower from behind her.

“I want to break up with him. Won’t you let me in?”

The girl nodded robotically and removed the chain, opening the door wide and inviting Lin inside. Lin couldn’t hold back his grin. He remembered the tale of The Wolf and the Seven Young Goats, and thought he could understand how the wolf felt, so easily tricking the goats into thinking he was their mother. Surely he’d been a little disappointed. It was just too easy.

The apartment’s floor plan was perfect for Lin. It was a 1LDK with the kitchen right past the entryway. Even better, right on the counter was a kitchen knife. He preferred using the things he could find in his target’s home rather than his own tools. It made not leaving telling evidence all the easier. The moment the girl turned, Lin reached for the knife. He came up behind her and, with one black leather glove covered hand, covered her mouth and slit her throat.

The shower room was located right across from the kitchen room, and just as Lin had finished the deed, a man came out from it. Blood sprayed vigorously out from the woman’s neck, bathing the freshly washed man in red. Rather than water, blood dripped from the man’s body, and his once-white towel was irreparably stained. Witnessing his lover suddenly, the man was stunned, unable to process anything.

“I don’t really like killing girls all that much,” Lin said, his gaze shifting slowly from the girl’s prone body to the man. “I much prefer the challenge I get from the men, particularly the strong ones.”

“Y-you,” the young man’s acne-covered face distorted, as if he were trying to stamp down his fear. “What the hell? Who are you?”

“Me?” Lin laughed. “I’m a hitman.”

Understanding dawned on the man. “The Kakyuukai sent you. And you disguised yourself as a woman to kill me?”

“Disguise? No, it’s my hobby. I like dressing like this. Though I do hate the false lashes.”

The man retreated deeper into the apartment. Lin stepped over the woman’s body and followed him, being extra careful to avoid stepping in the blood. “Hey, you knew that club, Miroir, was owned by the Kakyuukai, didn’t you? I’m sure you realize running off with all that money was a bad idea.”

“S-sorry! I’ll give it all back!”

“Ah, no. That’s unnecessary. I wasn’t told to get the money back. They’ll get what they’re owed from your funeral. Yours and,” Lin pointed towards the kitchen, “the dead girl’s, that is. That’d be enough, I’m sure.”

“S-someone save me!” the man cried. Unable to stand out of fear, he crawled away like a caterpillar, trying to escape from Lin.

“Forgiving these kinds of infractions looks bad for the company’s reputation, apparently. That’s why anyone who goes against them ends up in the gutter. They want to make an example out of you.”

“I had no choice! I had debts to pay! I won’t do it again, I swear!”

“Debts, huh? I understand. I have a fair amount of debt, too.”

It’s why I’m doing these kinds of jobs, Lin thought with a smirk as he twirled the knife around in his hand.

“If I recall, you stole around ten million yen, right? How nice. I only get a million yen for killing the both of you. That’s it. A million. That’s how much your lives are worth. Isn’t that depressing?”

“I-if that’s the case, let’s make a deal,” the man suddenly said conversationally. “I have four million yen left. I’ll give it all to you if you let me live. What do you say? You want money, don’t you?”

“Just listen to the deceitful things your stupid face is spouting. It’s pretty impressive.” Lin shrugged. He felt sorry for the girl. This idiot’s thinking of nothing but himself. He doesn’t even care that you’re dead. Well, I guess that’s on you for going along with these kinds of guys. “Sorry to say, but that’s not gonna work. You see, I always finish the jobs I take.” He grabbed the man’s head close and whispered, “I’m a professional, after all.”

Then he cut the man’s throat.

Notes: Just like in the previous part, there’s sections in here that just don’t make sense in English. The most noteworthy being “what’s a kiiler of killers?” RU SRS Saito??? I forgive you for not getting 殺し屋殺し屋 but even then that’s kinda mmmmmmm. I took the most liberties with that section.

Koro-pok-guru From Ainu folklore, this is a race of small people who used to trade with the Ainu in the shadows of the night. They were friendly, but stopped interacting with the Ainu after one selfish dude decided he wanted one for himself. Kesaran-Pasaran A spirit of good fortune that would possess round thistle seeds.

I decided to go with Lin instead of Rin because I think Lin is the one used in other media???

The Kakyuukai vs the Kakyuu Group - I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to go with. I even played around with Kakyuu Corp. because that sounded funny to me. I ended up going with “Kakyuukai.”

[midlifemusingsfromthemidwest]

Charlatans, Liars, and Frauds

Sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction, and this is one of those times. I have long been an avid reader of the trashy British tabloid that masquerades as a newspaper, The Daily Mail. Every morning for years, I have enjoyed reading the DM as I drink my morning coffee. I read the stories and laugh at the acerbic comments, as the Brits do have a way with words. When Meghan Markle arrived upon the scene while dating Prince Harry, suddenly every story was about them. As an American, I was amused by their painting of her as a star and well-known actress, because no one, and I mean no one, outside her immediate family and friends, had ever heard of this chick. Not only that, no one I have ever talked to watched the show Suits, where she played a supporting role. Suddenly, Meghan Markle was everywhere, and quickly I came to the conclusion that she was a complete social climber who was dating poor dumb Harry to advance her desire for fame. In the comments of the Daily Mail, someone mentioned a Facebook group devoted to shared dislike for Meghan, and on a lark, I joined it. The group was known as Meghan Markle The Charlatan Duchess, often shortened to MMTCD. I'll be honest, the group was a lot of fun as women from all over the world dished and bitched about what a fraud Meghan Markle was. We laughed at her horrific wigs and her clothes that cost millions, yet were always ill-fitting. We chuckled over how dim Harry was, and we guessed how long it would be before the divorce proceedings were started. Some of the women believed more outlandish tales such as that Meghan was born a man, that she wore a moonbump and was never pregnant, and that Archie (I am still scratching my head over that choice of name…Archie????) was, in fact, a doll, and not a real boy. Maybe Meghan should have named him Pinocchio instead of Archie. All in all, it was good fun…not nice, yet good fun.

Now, the interesting part of the story is that the founder of the group was a woman who referred to herself as "Lady L”. Lady L claimed she was a high-ranking member of the British aristocracy with strong ties to the British Royal Family. She wrote in flowery prose about how she felt compelled to start a facebook group to help expose Meghan Markle as a fraud and charlatan. She was single-handedly going to save the British monarchy from the grubby clutches of the American interloper. Lady L claimed her grandmother had been a lady-in-waiting to the Queen, and that she had a huge ancestral home outside of Edinburgh. In fact, she often wrote that once Meghan and Harry divorced, she was going to host a huge party for the group in her ancestral pile in Scotland, oooh la la! Sadly, some women in the group actually started saving money for the trip so they would be able to afford to go. Seriously, shame on her for that. She wove the tale that she was a successful antique shoppe owner (notice the British spelling, which meant it had to be true), and that she came to the United States every year to buy antiques for her stores and shipped them back to the UK. Um, what? Why in the world would someone come from the UK, where antiques simply had to be older and more valuable, to the United States to buy antiques that were generally far less old and far less valuable. How odd, and the first red flag that made me think the Lady wasn't all she proclaimed herself to be.

After some time, Lady L introduced us to her cousin, Lilly Beth, whom she had recruited to help run the group, as Lady L simply couldn't keep up with it all by her little old blue-blooded self. Shortly after that, Lilly Beth became the self-appointed Queen of the group with every member hanging on her every post, all while competing for her attention. Lady L rarely posted in the group once Lilly Beth was brought on board to run the place. Occasionally when the group members became unruly, Lady L would pop in and shout at everyone to stop whatever they were doing to anger her, post a giant red angry emoji, and then "feck off" back from whence she had come. Lilly Beth claimed that her husband, fondly known as “Mister”, worked for the Crown and that she had "grown up with Wills and Harry." Hmmmm….ok then, it seemed somewhat implausible, but I was game to play along on the off chance it was true. Maybe she was just some rich bored British aristocrat hiding behind a laptop. I had been a member for just a few weeks when the group was rocked by a Daily Mail article that doxed or exposed, several anti-Meghan private citizens in a story that shared the pictures, names, and even twitter names of several women who happened to be members of the group. I still believe that Meghan Markle's people were behind the doxing, and it made me dislike her even more. The members of MMTCD panicked, and most of us then created fake facebook profile identities and rejoined the group under nom de plums. It might seem like an overreaction, but many of the women in the group whom I had become friends with were successful professionals. They didn't want to see their faces and names publicly shamed on the Daily Mail for having the audacity to dislike Meghan Markle. Not only that, but it was quickly become the modus operandi of Meghan and her band of flying monkeys, I mean supporters, to harass, defame, dox, and call every person who didn't like her a racist. Despite the influx of anonymous Facebook profiles, the group MMTCD flourished.

Over the next year, Lilly Beth became increasingly over the top, and she was an incessant braggart. She claimed that her husband, Mister, not only supposedly worked for the Crown, but that he also was a member of the House of Commons, owned a village, and that he had even surprised her with a mansion in upper New York where they would summer, amidst the ungodly heat and humidity. Who in their right mind would summer in New York where it is 100-plus degrees when one could be in much more temperate UK? Mmmhmm…sure. As time went on, Lilly Beth bragged more and more and more. She claimed she brought their entire household staff with them to the United States to the new mansion. She bragged that her daughter Violet was friends with Prince George and that there was a possibility she could even marry him someday. My goodness, was it possible that our humble Lilly Beth could someday be the mother-in-law to a future King? Would we all get invitations to the wedding? Should I start saving for a bespoke dress? She bragged that she was invited by the Queen herself to an upcoming ceremony—and that the queen had insisted that she attend. Well, goodness me, wasn't Lilly Beth becoming more and more important with every passing day? She would regale the breathless fans of hers in the group with tales of how Cook would whip up ten-course meals, and how she was ordering bespoke gowns. She tooted her own horn more than Meghan Markle, and that is no easy feat. Lilly Beth kept us up to date on her pregnancy and her newborn, "Master Jack" and even shared pictures of him and his sister little Violet with bright auburn hair and vivid green eyes, clearly photoshopped and poorly at that. The list of Lilly Beth's tall tales was vast. They included that she had met Kate several times, Mister was a RAF pilot, Cook make enough stew for their entire village of shut-ins, Mister waved rent for the entire village because of covid, she was a barrister, she was a buyer for an auction house, she was a violinist, she could sing beautifully, she was a muse for a famous artist, she got her ice cold milk straight from the village dairy (insert eye roll here), and on and on.

A monster was born. The more attention Lilly Beth got, the more she loved it, and the bigger the tales got. Not only that, but she also started getting sloppy. Her use of British words began to slip, her photoshopping skills were appalling, and her tales were becoming increasingly unbelievable. With each embellishment, I became even more convinced that Lilly Beth was a con artist who was no more a British aristocract than I was. During this time, Lilly Beth also set up a second group where she and other group members would verbally duke it out with Meghan Markle fans and then try to recruit members to come to their defense. It was like watching an episode of Jenny Jones show when it devolved into a fistfight amongst the guests. I got to the point where I posted less often, and I would go days or weeks without visiting the group. When I did, I would post and fly out of there. The entire group became like primary school kids trying to outdo each other to attract Lilly Beth's attention with their tricks. Watch this, Lilly Beth…No, watch me, Lilly Beth…Look at this Lilly Beth. A few times, I knew Lilly Beth was lying and full of "shite" as she would put it. Once, she said her husband, Mister, had been at a wine-tasting with Harry and that Harry had come in "knackered." I asked why Harry was tired, and she said, Nooooo, knackered means he was drunk. Hmmm…while I don't pretend to be British, I do have Brits as friends and have only heard of knackered meaning tired. As usual, when questioned, she slithered away and stayed gone for several days.

Finally, the beginning of the end happened one day when two former members who were booted from the group—something that happened on a weekly basis for one offense or another— blogged on tumbler some of Lilly's supposed "tea." Tea was the term the group used for inside information. The supposed inside information was a bit like the overly vague guesses of a carnival psychic. If the “tea” was specific, then it was usually a rewording of a DM or other tabloid story. Then, shortly after the Tumblr brouhaha, Lilly Beth posted that someone on twitter was saying she lived in Alaska and that Lady L lived in Arizona and how hilarious it was that someone was making such crazy accusations. She laughed maniacally about it…LOLOLOLOL!!!!! This was her trademark over the top response to anything even mildly humorous. Then, the balloon popped, the air escaped from the overstretched bladder in a split second with a whoosh. When members tried to access the site all that was there was a message that the group been archived. Like the carnies they were, the frauds scurried off into the shadows leaving behind hundreds of confused and incredulous former members. It turned out that Lady L and Lilly Beth were no more connected to the British Royal Family than am I. In fact, they were a mother and at least one of her daughters, posing as British aristocrats all the while living in the United States. For a year and a half, they had perpetrated a gigantic fraud on hundreds of unsuspecting, and some suspecting like myself, women from nearly every continent and country on the planet. Former members quickly found other groups to join to maintain the friendships formed within MMTCD. Everyone wondered, why would these women have gone to such lengths to fabricate such intricate and detailed lies? What was their end game? Were they setting the group up for financial fraud, were they data-mining for identity theft, were they just stroking their egos, or were they creating an alternative reality vastly more interesting than their mundane, sad lives? I doubt we will never know, but how very ironic that two complete charlatans and frauds created a group dedicated to uncovering another charlatan and fraud. Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

[vexedtonightmares]

last dance (elu ballet au)

Lucas is in his final year at the Paris Opera Ballet School and he’ll be damned if he lets his former friend-turned-rival Eliott steal the lead role in their production of Swan Lake. 

aka- lucas and eliott are rivals who are forced to room together for their final year of ballet school before they try to enter the company. we can all see where this is going.   

i.

Even after years of training, the Paris Opera Ballet School was still everything Lucas had dreamed it would be. Sure, there were days where he wondered if all his training had amounted to absolutely nothing, but then there were days were one of his instructors would compliment his posture, or use him as an example in class, and he would remember why he had worked so hard to get to this point. Dancing had always been like breathing to Lucas, came more naturally to him than anything else he’d ever tried.

Arriving back at the school for a new year Lucas felt like he could exhale in relief. The months away from the school during the summer holidays were always difficult for him, given his tense family situation. Luckily, that summer, one of his best friends from school, Manon, had invited him to stay in a flatshare she had in the city with her cousin and another friend. It had been nice, actually, to live that summer of bliss, training whenever possible with Manon and not having to worry about his parents.

They were starting their final year before they would try to enter the company, one of the most defining years of the rest of their lives. It was a bit intimidating, if Lucas was honest with himself. Whoever scored the lead roles in whatever show they performed that year were shoo ins for the company, so the pressure was higher than ever. He wondered what show they would be doing, hoping there would be a great lead male role that he could try for. He wanted a real challenge.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Manon said to him as they walked in together, finding their room assignments. “Only one more year? In some ways I’m glad, but in others I wish we never had to leave.”

Lucas rolled his eyes at her, even though he knew exactly what she was saying, felt the same way. “You’re never going to have to leave, you’ll be in the company before the year’s out, principal in the company before you’re twenty.”

“Oh shut up.” She nudged his side, but her eyes sparkled with possibility. Manon was easily the best dancer in their year, in the whole school now that Lucille and Charles had graduated. No one could do ballet like Manon Demissy, and everyone knew it but her.

“When’s Yann getting here?” she changed the topic as they ascended the staircase to the residence wing.

Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. Maybe he’ll be in the room when I get there.”

Normally there were three students to a room, but Lucas and his best friend Yann had gotten lucky the past few years, due to the uneven number of students, and had a room to themselves. It was always weird, getting used to one space for the whole year and then having to move into another one the next year, but Lucas was excited this year. The students in their final year generally got the best rooms. “Which number are you?” he asked Manon once they started to make their way down the hallway.

“412. You?”

“416.”

She pouted. “I’ll miss living with you. Are you sure Yann doesn’t want to switch?”

Lucas choked on a laugh. “And what if you end up rooming with Emma?”

Emma was Yann’s ex-girlfriend, and even though the two of them were friendly with one another, they still had a bit of lingering awkwardness around each other. Manon shivered, then laughed, “Ok, you have a point.”

Manon reached her room and was accosted by a loud squeal as someone jumped and gave her a huge hug. Daphné. “Come in, come in! Imane’s already here! I feel so bad for Emma, she has to room with Ingrid. And Chloé, but she’s fine. Hi Lucas! Are you with Yann again?” Daphné always spoke a mile a minute and while he’d like to say he hadn’t missed her, he had. He did feel bad for Emma, though. She and Ingrid had been really close once upon a time, but then she’d sort of stolen Yann from Ingrid and their relationship soured. It had gotten better over time, but it was still awkward.

“What about Alexia?” he asked.

Daphne’s grin turned sad. “She left the program. Apparently ballet wasn’t her ‘thing’. She’s at the same school as your friend Basile and Imane’s brother now.”

“Oh.” That was unfortunate, he’d really liked Alexia. Not that they would never see each other again, especially if she now went to the same school as Basile.

“Still up for that swap?” Manon whispered to Lucas.

He laughed and backed away, leaving her to move in. “In your dreams!” he mouthed back, causing her to flip him off before he made his way to his own room. He smiled once he got to the door. Not only did he now know for certain that it was a two person suite, but it was also a corner suite, one of the largest. Manon would be pissed when she found out.

There was already a bag on the floor when he entered, so he assumed Yann must be there already. He made his way to the bedroom off to the left of the living area, he always took the left and Yann always took the right, and halted in the doorway. A jacket was draped over the bed, suitcases yet unpacked by the door. Ok, apparently they were switching things up this year.

Someone knocked on the door one before barging in, and Lucas was surprised to see both Yann and Arthur, yelling in excitement as they laid eyes on him.

“Lulu! Holidays treat you well?” Arthur grinned, pulling Lucas into a hug.

He pulled away after a moment, turning to Yann and giving him a quick hug as well. “As well as expected,” he shrugged, “How about you?”

Arthur launched into a wild explanation of his summer, from going on vacation to hooking up with a thirty-four year old woman-- something Lucas was fairly certain was illegal-- Arthur’s tale was full of so many wild twists and turns that Lucas would have thought his friend was making everything up if he didn’t know him so well. Arthur was the type of person to take everything and nothing seriously, which is why, while he was easily one of the most talented dancers there, he would never get any of the lead roles. He never even seemed to care either. Sometimes Lucas envied him for not caring, sometimes he wanted to yell at him. Lucas would have given anything to be born with the kind of talent that Arthur had.

Yann, on the other hand, was on a pretty even playing field with Lucas. They hadn’t known each other before starting at the school, and they hadn’t talked much the first year or so because Lucas had a different best friend going in, but they had started to grow apart as Lucas’ friend became the star pupil and Lucas had begun to resent this new rivalry forming between them. Every year Lucas hoped his ex-friend wouldn’t come back, but he always did.

“Yo, dude, why’d you take the lefthand room?” Lucas teased once Arthur had finished recounting his summertime escapades.

Yann furrowed his brows. “What are you talking about?”

Lucas gestured vaguely to the room behind him and Yann’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh… you don’t know yet?”

“Don’t know what?” He wasn’t one for surprises on a good day, and this was turning out to be not as good a day as he would have hoped, based on Yann’s expression. Before Yann could speak the door opened again, revealing just the person Lucas would rather have jumped into a pit of lava than see again.

“Oh. Hi. I didn’t expect you all to be in here,” Eliott Demaury said, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“We were just leaving,” Yann said, and, finally, Lucas realized what was going on. No, no, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening to him. Anyone but Eliott fucking Demaury. Maybe he was there to help Sofiane move in? Maybe Sofiane was Lucas’ roommate?

“No, no need, I can just go to my room and unpack,” Eliott said, glancing once at Lucas before stepping around them to what Lucas had assumed was Yann’s bedroom. Lucas turned to look at Yann with murder in his eyes.

“Tell me you’re joking,” he said with false calmness.

Yann bit his lip and looked to Arthur for help. “I don’t know why they changed it up this year, man. Sofiane’s with us, me and Arthur, and Eliott’s with you.”

Lucas looked over his shoulder into Eliott’s room, meeting Eliott’s eyes for a brief moment before grabbing Yann and Arthur and pulling them into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. “Can I switch with Sofiane? You know he’ll be fine with it he’s like, the nicest guy in the world.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Come on, Lucas. Eliott’s not that bad. You forget I’ve been living with him since we all started here.”

“I’m not rooming with him,” Lucas stated adamantly. Eliott wasn’t that bad his ass. None of them knew Eliott like he did. They’d vowed when they were five to be best friends forever, but Eliott had forgotten all about that promise when the instructors started favoring him in classes, giving him all the best solos, roles, and compliments. Eliott hadn’t seen why Lucas was upset, told him he’d just have to work harder, as if he wasn’t already working five times harder than Eliott to even try to be on the same level as him.

Over the past year Lucas had started to get more attention from their instructors and choreographers, proof that all his hard work was paying off. He wasn’t about to let Eliott flounce back into his life and ruin it all for him.

Yann braced his hands on Lucas’ shoulders. “Lucas. Seriously. You need to put this whole rivalry with Eliott behind you. All it’s going to do is hold you back, and I know that’s the last thing you want.”

Lucas shrugged out of Yann’s grip, folding his arms across his chest. “You don’t understand. Eliott and I… we were never meant to be anything other than ‘rivals’, if that’s what you want to call it. I’ve made the mistake of being his friend in the past and I’m in no hurry to do it again.”

“I’m not saying to be his friend, I’m just saying why make a shitty situation worse? You know damn well that if any of the teachers catch wind of you switching rooms they’ll make your life hell,” Yann tried to reason with him.

Lucas still wasn’t having it. “My life will already be hell.”

Arthur let out an exasperated sound and raised his voice slightly, quieting after a moment so he wouldn’t draw attention. “Lucas! You always talk about is how hard you have to work to be seen the way people like Eliott and Manon are naturally, and now you are. The teachers love you. Would you really throw that away over the prospect of sharing a kitchen and bathroom with Eliott? You don’t even have to share a bedroom for Christ’s sake! If you’re going to be in hell either way, stick with the hell you know.”

As much as Lucas hated to admit it, Arthur had a point. He didn’t want to have to share anything with Eliott, but if the alternative ruined his chances of getting a lead role in whatever show they put on this year or a chance at entering the company, he would never forgive himself.

“Fine,” he agreed grudgingly.

Yann raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Lucas grumbled, leaning his head back against the door. This was going to be a long year.

“Well in that case,” Arthur spun on his heel, pivoting to walk down the hallway, “We have unpacking of our own to do. Try not to murder Eliott while we’re away. Please. I need some food or something before I can cover up a murder.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and flipped off his friends as they made their way back to their own room. He hesitated in front of the door for a moment, not quite ready to enter back into the room he’d have to share with someone he hated for a full year. Hopefully he could just lock himself in his room most of the time and just avoid Eliott at all costs. He got up earlier than everyone to start training, so there was a minimal chance he’d ever see Eliott in the mornings anyway.

He should really go back into the room.

He should really go back into the room, but he couldn’t. His hand hovered over the door handle still, and he knew that he would look like an idiot if anyone walked down the hall and saw him standing there staring at the door.

Fuck it, it was his room too. Eliott couldn’t monopolize that as well. The door opened easier than he had expected, or maybe he’d used a little bit too much force on it, because he stumbled back into the room much less gracefully than he’d intended to. Eliott was standing by the small counter they had in their kitchenette, unloading a box of mugs and dishes. He looked up at Lucas in surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming back in here.” It was hard to tell if Eliott was trying to make a joke or not. His tone said he was teasing, but his face was serious. Lucas tried not to remember how it used to light up every room he walked into. Maybe it still did, but Lucas had stopped noticing.

“Well, it is my room too,” Lucas said, just as ambiguously. Eliott nodded but said nothing further, turning his attention back to the items he was unpacking. Lucas walked past him and into his own bedroom, slamming the door shut and flopping down on his yet to be made bed. This was going to be a long year.

The best he could do for the time being was make his room as him as possible so that he would enjoy spending as much time in there as he planned to. With any luck, he’d be able to hang out in Yann and Arthur’s room a lot as well, especially because Sofiane would probably want to hang out with Eliott. Lucas actually liked Sofiane, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why someone as nice and talented as Sofiane would waste his time on someone like Eliott.

As far as Lucas was concerned, there were two type of people in the world: those who preferred petite allegro, and those who preferred grand allegro. Lucas himself was the former, as was Sofiane. Petite allegro required precision, sharpness, focus. It was one of the most difficult exercises of a ballet class, but, if you pulled it off, the satisfaction was worth the struggle. You couldn’t get by on natural talent in petite allegro, it was one of the only exercises that actually put everyone on an even playing field, at least at first. If you succeeded it was because you deserved it.

People like Eliott preferred grand allegro. Grand allegro was all about showing off. Yes, there was still precision and focus required, but it also required absolute perfection of the sort that you were either born with or weren’t. That wasn’t to say that someone couldn’t be good at grand allegro if they weren’t born with the same natural ability as someone else, but their chances of securing the roles and positions granted to those who flourished during grand allegro were far lower. The petite allegros were the underdogs and the grand allegros were the stars.

Of course, there were always exceptions. Manon was like him, but she was also a star. She was the only person in their class that ever topped Eliott in the eyes of their instructors, but Lucas didn’t resent her for it. He knew how hard she worked for everything she got, and it was clear from the moment that she’d walked into their first class that she was destined for a career that most of them would only ever dream of.

It was partially due to being partnered with her the previous year that their instructors had begun to take notice of him. A star was only as good as their partner allowed them to be, so Lucas had worked even harder than normal the entire year prior to make certain that neither he nor Manon would be overlooked. It was actually how they’d come to be so close in the first place, not really interacting much beforehand. Lucas had mostly steered clear of Emma and her friends after all of her relationship drama with Yann, but had really enjoyed becoming so close with Manon over the past year. If they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have lived with her over the holidays, and his life would have been hell.

Of course, he would take that living situation any day over what he was forced to deal with now, for the entire year. He had to pick his battles, he knew this, but also-- what was the issue in picking all of them, really?

There was a knock on his bedroom door and Lucas poked his head up, wondering if Yann had come back to talk to him or if Eliott was really trying to come into his room. A few steps and an open door later, he realized it was the latter, wishing he would have just stayed on his bed and ignored the knocking.

“What do you want?” he asked curtly, not even bothering to pretend to be polite. Eliott knew Lucas didn’t like him, and Lucas was more than certain Eliott didn’t like him either. That much had been made clear the minute Eliott had been hailed as a prodigy and hadn’t spoken a word to Lucas for nearly the entire year following. Lucas nearly scoffed to himself, wondering how they’d ever been best friends to begin with.

Eliott was just staring at Lucas, hadn’t said a word, hand finally falling to his side from where it had been poised to knock on the door. Lucas raised his eyebrows. “Hello? What do you want?”

Eliott blinked and looked away, gaze falling to the floor. “Sorry, um, I was just wondering how you’d like to decorate the living room?”

“Seriously?” Lucas crossed his arms over his chest. Decorating the living room was really the least of their worries, in his humble opinion. Had he and Yann ever even decorated their living room?

Eliott bit his lip and shrugged. “It could be nice.”

“Nice,” Lucas repeated slowly. He opened his mouth again to speak before closing it and furrowing his brows, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t really give a shit, I guess. I’m here for ballet and ballet only, I don’t care what pictures are hanging on our walls.”

“Just ballet? That will be unfortunate when we have to take our modern, hip hop, jazz…” Eliott trailed off, gleam in his eye. Lucas used to know that gleam, used to smile when he saw it. Now it mocked him, shining with the light of everything Eliott knew that he was and Lucas wasn’t.

Lucas didn’t even want to give in to Eliott’s attempts to rile him, so he just rolled his eyes and moved to close the door once more, stopped by Eliott’s hand right before it closed. “What?” he hissed through his teeth.

Eliott pushed the door back open tentatively and flicked his gaze to Lucas’ eyes once before averting them again. “I was also wondering what you’d like for dinner?”

Lucas scoffed aloud and slammed the door in Eliott’s face, leaning against the back of it once the door closed. He slowly slid down until he was sitting on the floor with his back still pressed to the door. There was a dull thud on the other side of the door that Lucas might have thought was Eliott doing the same if he didn’t know better.

Knees pulled up to his chest, Lucas folded his arms on top of them and buried his face. Since it seemed Eliott would be occupying the kitchen, Lucas would not be venturing out into their shared living space for the night. Whatever. He would have to be up at quarter to five the following morning anyway to get his pre-class warm ups in, so it was probably best that he unpacked and tried to get rest as soon as possible. If it was even possible, given his awful sleeping habits. It wasn’t his fault that he averaged about three hours of sleep a night, it really wasn’t.

He popped his head up at the sound of something clanging before he realized it must be Eliott making himself something to eat. Unable and unwilling to acknowledge the boy in the room over, Lucas put in his earbuds, cranking the volume as high as it would go without bursting his eardrums and got to work, opening up one of his suitcases and searching for his sheets.

He fell into a steady rhythm, sometimes dancing along to the beat of his music as he worked, finding the monotony of unpacking to be rather calming. He nearly forgot about the fact that he was hiding from his roommate, that his roommate was Eliott, and that he didn’t know how he’d survive the year like this. Nearly.

There was a sound at one point that may have been another knock, but this time Lucas ignored it, chalking it up to the drums in the song he was listening to. If it had been a knock, he supposed he didn’t much care if the door went unanswered.

Finally, after who knew how long, everything was in its proper place and Lucas could lie back on his fully made bed, sinking into the warmth of his comforter. He checked the time and realized it was almost midnight, giving him a total of maybe five hours of sleep if he fell asleep right that moment, which, given his history, wasn’t going to happen. Wonderful.

He still had to move his toiletries to the bathroom, something he’d been avoiding doing because it involved leaving his room. There hadn’t been noise from outside since he’d taken our his earbuds, which was promising enough that he rallied himself enough to open up his door.

As he stepped out into the darkness of the living area he almost tripped on something resting by the foot of his door. Bending down to inspect, he realized that it was a bowl with a note in it.

I made pasta, the leftovers are in the fridge whenever you’re done unpacking. Sorry if you don’t like pasta, you slammed the door on me before you could tell me what you wanted for dinner. -Eliott

Great, now Eliott was probably trying to poison him. He made a point of throwing the note away, leaving it on top of all the other garbage, and returning the unused bowl to the cupboard instead of washing it under the guise of use.

Standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom a moment later, Lucas took in his reflection, from his nearly untameable hair to his wide eyes to the stern set of his jaw. This year he wasn’t going down without a fight. When they announced the production the school would be putting on tomorrow, he would fight tooth and nail to secure the lead role, leaving Eliott in the dust behind him.

It was probably hard for Eliott to imagine what the bottom was like from all the way up on his high horse, but Lucas would make sure that he knew. It was one thing to start at the bottom and work your way up, but there was no coming back from falling when you were at the top.

Tomorrow was the start of a new day, a new year, and a new Lucas. The ballet world was one of see or be seen, and Lucas was finally ready to be seen. He was not about to let Eliott ruin things for him ever again.

[thelostandforgottenangel]

The Lie  (Leo )

@bloody-hands-pure-hearts1 @lonelyheart-clubband @fyreball66 @southernblossoms @bluesakurablossom and all my Leo fans

"I'M SICK OF BEING ALIVE-!"

The shriek that left her echoed around the room where she and her mutant boyfriend of five years were standing, he was trying to sway her in his convincing way he kept telling her they couldn't be together... 5 years of being with the turtle this was probably the most shocking thing he had ever done.

The two of them had been through everything; countless attacks from the Foot, many fearful sleepless nights of worrying for him and his family, several invasions, the many times he had been hurt or almost killed while protecting the city, and more then many situations that most women wouldn't have stayed for.

He was her family

Her life

This mutant turtle and everything that made up him was everything to her

Yet here stood the man she loved and had given everything the woman had to give in herself was trying his damnedest to convince her wholeheartedly they were never meant to be together and it finally broke her to the point that she just stood there staring at him almost hoping he was trying to joke

But the seriousness in his bright blue eyes told her for certain he wasn't

One bad situation and here he was giving up on them, she didn't regret going but she wish she hadn't had been at her favorite bookstore that night trying to find him a present for their upcoming anniversary, when the young woman had walked out on the street hugging two Japanese fairy tales tight to her chest having been unable to decide which one he would like she prayed her Samurai would love them both - maybe she could even talked him into reading to her the way he had when she was sick or just wanted to hear his voice when he didn’t feel like talking

A shot had rang out - in her search for the perfect book the hour had grown late and it was now dark, one of her most favorite place in the world just happen to be sitting not to far from a bank and unfortunately for her currently standing in the streets armed were several of the purple dragons - unlucky for the woman was upon stepping out of the bookstore she ran straight into their gang leaders chest looking up as a mountain of a man stood over her with a joyful sneer

In those 5 years their tracks had crossed each others way too often, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was far from the first time her path had crossed the dragons or the Foot but then again the girl was well known to be associated with the turtles - probably the reason her boyfriend was standing in front of her now pushing for his mate to accept he was ending this

She was fine but it probably scared him more than anything to show up on the scene to stop what was going down, maybe just as hopeful to bash some bad guys as his brothers only to see Hun holding her in a strangling embrace with a gun against her head as she struggled to get away from him kicking and scratching - probably worst of all screaming out in pain and anger from his embrace wanting free. Again she was fine, one of the upsides to being the mate of a Mutant Ninja Turtle was that he was possessive and protective all in the same moment meaning Hun never stood a chance in hell after daring to touch the leader’s woman

But here they were two days later after coming home from a long day in hopes of getting to spend time with your favorite guy just needing to be in his strong arms to looking at him so hopelessly your eyes overflowed with tears sobbing uncontrollably, the woman let her heart drop and shatter on the floor all of those thoughts that she was never good enough for the leader in blue coming back full force after years of him telling her she was the best he could find

How could he ever think after everything she had been through with him that them being together was a mistake, what more could she do to show she wanted to be with him and only him

“What more can I give...” his eyes hardened even if she could see the pain as she spoke “How much more could I possibly do for you not understand... Leo I love you ... and you are the only thing keeping me alive anymore- You are the only reason I’m still here do you not understand that” her darkest secret came to light as she stared at him in disbelief, he knew how bad it had been lately but right now he seemed to not care. How in the world could he looks so calm and collected, how in the hell could he be smiling when right now while telling her it was for the best she felt like she was going to die “I-” the tears pouring down her face only grew into streams upon looking into his beautiful eyes to see he wasn't going to change his mind “I can't do this... if you're leaving me then fine leave me”

She knew how much he like to be in control and that was what he was striving for in this moment “Please don't-” he started to speak but she held up her hand deciding he was going to listen to her whether he liked it or not

“No Leo I have done everything – I don’t over react anymore when you come back from patrol covered in blood or hurt I just wait until I’m alone to worry and cry because I know one time you won’t come back” she choked out her words as the memory of Raph dragging him in unconscious after one of their run ins with Shredder had turned for the worse, the weeks she had stayed with him while he healed “I can be dying to hold you and one look I just go home and curl up with a body pillow I can only pretend to be the man I desperately need right then but it doesn’t help, the times you have used your leader voice on me cause somebody got on your nerves” she couldn’t even look at the turtle as she finally just started saying everything that bothered her “putting up with your moods and the days you won’t even look at me because you don’t want to- I get it I’m a weakness you don’t want... You don't want me and I'm no prize but-” Leonardo looked up at those last few words going to speak but once more she cut him off, he saw her giving up and he should have been excited to know he was going to be able to protect her but - why did a cold lump form in his chest as she looked away “I'm going home with the hopes that you're going to call me - and if I don't hear from you tomorrow then fine... We're through-"

She reached into her bag pulling out the books looking at them with a small expression before meeting his eyes and suddenly for the first time in the years he had known this woman he couldn’t read her, didn’t know what she was thinking her eyes on the ground as she moved closer placing both books on the table

“Goodbye Leonardo”

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since she had walked out of the lair following the tunnels heading for the streets until a shift in the shadows made her stop sighing, she couldn’t hear him per say but the slightest tingle floating up her spin told the woman he was following her not moving as he stalked past her obviously agitated his perfect body tense glaring at the ground as he turned looking her over finding no emotion as she looked at the turtle completely ignoring the fact that she was caving deciding he was better off without her

He turned and the anger was there "Do you really think I'm going to let you leave after that" those beautiful blue eyes locked on her dangerously but she didn’t react knowing this was his way of intimidating his brother’s “I’m trying to protect you … I was the one saying goodbye and then you just-” for some reason he kept his distance pacing back and forth reminding her of a hungry wild animal keeping it’s pray cornered those cold orbs sending chills down her spine “No if we are parting ways it’s on my terms”

"If you really don't care yes-" she pushed past him going to continue on her way too hurt to  “Fuck that! I’m done being the only one in love-” she made it maybe three steps before his large hand grabbed her arm in a hard hold yet not in a way to harm her, a growl rumbling his chest as the turtle spun her around yanking her against him “Leo-!”

Before she could react or push him back his mouth was over hers taking her breath away; his kiss messy, needy, and deep so unlike him. Her body frozen in place as his mouth crushed hers finally making her wrap her arms around him holding him close returning the passion overtaking her as his hot tongue slipped inside her inviting mouth tasting everything that made up him as she moaned from his intense actions

“L-Leo~”

She lost track of everything as soon as he was pulling her back shushing her just before kissing her again this time just like before but in control cupping her face with both hands devouring her mouth hungrily – god only knew how long they had kissed but when he pulled away he was breathing fast panting out his arms were the only thing keeping her on her feet as she leaned against him her eyes slowly drifting open to look at him seeing the emotion playing over his face in full a sight that not only made her lust for the leader but scared to get too close to the flames wrapping around them

Desire … Fear … Need … Anger … Longing … Panic all flashed over his face but then there was love and for the first time she felt like she was really seeing him for the first time in all the years she had known him

Several mumbled curses left the eldest as he looked her over his heart pounded inside his plated chest realizing what he was doing “I have to protect you-” his features hardened as he looked down in shame his soft featured twisting with his anger at himself for being too weak to just let her go, the need to stop her making him run after her just when his lie had drove her away “Why couldn’t you just let me protect you -? When did you get such a hold on me my flower I’m unable to keep you safe from me…?” he could do nothing but look her over as his words really sunk in for him

A sweet smile slowly spread on her lips shining at him as she looked up at the turtle touching his face so softly seeing his sad eyes just softened her heart hearing him churr at the feeling of the soft skin on his cheek nuzzling into her palm pressing kisses to her wrist silently begging her forgiveness after what he had just tried to do before she gently lifted her lovers face kissing his lips so softly whispering under her breath as he held her tighter

“In what world my Leader do you think I’d be safer anywhere else but in your arms”

[recentanimenews]

Bookshelf Briefs 5/28/20

Dr. STONE, Vol. 11 | By Riichiro Inagaki and Boichi | Viz Media – Balloons! Yes, Dr. STONE is taking it upon itself to do something it does best, which is show off the gorgeous vistas of this not-really-that-explored future Japan it takes place in. And that means hot air balloons. It also means speedboats! But alas, just because Senku is a scientist does not mean he can cook. So they use some of the last remaining fluid to un-stone a butler-cum-chef-cum-everything, Francois, who is flamboyant and also a lot of fun. There’s actually some really good humor in this volume as well, be it the reporter getting her camera and its undercutting right afterwards, or Senku’s Einstein impersonation. This remains one of the essential Jump titles. – Sean Gaffney

Dungeon Builder: The Demon King’s Labyrinth Is a Modern City!, Vol. 2 | By Rui Tsukiyo and Hideaki Yoshikawa | Seven Seas – After wrapping up the cliffhanger from the first volume (he names his first monster girl, which gives her the power-up (and bust expansion) she needs to win), the cast gets down to the nitty-gritty of what he wants to do: build a city, not a dungeon, which feeds on positive emotions. Of course, there are a few problems. Location, labor costs, the neighboring demon lords, and of course Marcho’s impending death, which she seems to have accepted more than Procel has. This remains sort of mid-tier manga—not interesting enough to stand out, but the pages turn easily, and you could do worse. Also, brilliant pun for the back-cover blurb. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – The second of the Éclair anthologies to come out over here, this one seems to focus more attention on love that is already in bloom when the story begins than love that we see the start of. There’s a nice mix of funny, heartwarming, sad, and generally melancholic. Some highlights are “Azalea Corner,” about a minion’s crush on the arrogant ojou she follows; “The Unemployed Woman and the High School Girl,” which should be awful but is by Canno so is cute instead; and “That Summer Won’t Come Again,” about a girl trapped in her sister’s past who bonds with a senpai and learns to swim again. There’s good and not-so-good here, but overall well worth buying. – Sean Gaffney

Éclair Blanche: A Girls’ Love Anthology That Resonates in Your Heart | By Various Artists | Yen Press – This is the second Éclair anthology, but aside from two continuations, all the stories here are new. The quality varies, and it seems the better stories are in the front. The first story, Fly’s “Flowers in a Storm,” sets the tone for bittersweet, ambiguous endings with the tale of a first kiss that comes too late. There are also several stories about unrequited love for a friend who loves someone else, be it another girl, an idol, or a guy. Kabocha’s “Though Summer Won’t Come Again” is a standout, about a girl who assumes the senpai she’s developed feelings for prefers her older sister, as everyone else seems to. Unfortunately, I found the stories toward the end of the volume to be less enjoyable, particularly the final one, which includes the most awkward teacher-student embrace I have ever seen. Still, I will read the next installment when it comes out! – Michelle Smith

I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love | By Minta Suzumaru | Futekiya (digital only) – Yoshino Kiritani is a beautiful 30-year-old salaryman who happens to be both gay and a virgin. With no relationship prospects on the horizon and wanting to finally have sex, he goes to a gay bar, meets a charismatic college student named Rou, and sleeps with him. The back-and-forth that follows between these two guys is so well done. Rou is a notorious playboy with a hot-and-cold routine he has employed many times to manipulate his conquests into falling for him and confessing their feelings. He tries this on Yoshino, even though he’s actually serious about him, but it doesn’t work. Self-effacing Yoshino genuinely thinks Rou wants nothing more to do with him, forcing Rou to face the seriously scary prospect of rejection by declaring his feelings first. There are a few explicit scenes, but they serve the characters and story well. Highly recommended! – Michelle Smith

Love Me, Love Me Not, Vol. 2 | By Io Sakisaka | Viz Media – First of all, a word of advice to the author: don’t sink people’s ships in your author’s notes, OK? Secondly, this continues to have the strengths of Io Sakisaka titles—it gets teenage love in a good way, has characters who are likeable but clearly flawed, shows gradual character growth, and has clean, easy-to-follow art. She’s still trying to balance out the idealistic girl with the realistic girl, though it may be leaning towards the former. Sadly, it also contains what’s always been one of this author’s big weaknesses to me—I like her series but never love them. Each volume is fun to read and I’d call it good, but it’s never going to be tops in my favorite shoujo manga lists. It’s not life-changing the way a Yona of the Dawn is. – Sean Gaffney

Ping Pong, Vol. 1 | By Taiyo Matsumoto | Viz Media – Ever since Matsumoto was a guest at TCAF in 2013 and spoke in depth about the series, its development, and how it fit into his overall career, I’ve been desperately wanting to read Ping Pong in English. When the excellent anime adaptation came and went soon after and the original manga still hadn’t been licensed, I didn’t expect that we’d ever see it translated. But it is actually here! The first of two beautifully designed omnibus volumes. And I am absolutely in love with Matsumoto’s Ping Pong. Ostensibly a high school sports manga, Ping Pong spends very little time explaining the ins and outs of the game even though table tennis is essentially omnipresent; instead, the series devotes its attention almost entirely to the characters themselves. With strong psychological elements, in part the work’s themes explore talent, motivation, and self-determination, all supported by Matsumoto’s distinctive and spectacularly dynamic and expressive artwork. – Ash Brown

Prince Freya, Vol. 1 | By Keiko Ishihara | VIZ Media – The land of Tyr is threatened by Sigurd, the empire to the north. Our “wimpy and weak” heroine, Freya, happens to be the spitting image of Prince Edvard, who’s just been poisoned by Sigurd, and so takes on the role of impersonating him to protect her country. Alas, Freya’s performance as Edvard (and characterization in general) is inconsistent and in a way that doesn’t seem intentional on the mangaka’s part. Sometimes she boldly and capably takes action, sometimes she just cries. In my notes I wrote, “This ain’t no Basara,” prompted by a panel in which Freya is making an extremely insipid face because of something sappy her love interest has just said, but then something super dramatic and unexpected occurs and… well, now I’m cautiously on board. It may turn out to be fluffier than I would like, but I will at least give it a couple more volumes. – Michelle Smith

The Quintessential Quintuplets, Vol. 9 | By Negi Haruba | Kodansha Comics – There’s less swapping in this one, but the one time there is a swap it blows the reader out of the water. I suspect Ichika’s popularity took a nosedive after this volume, as her ideal of “all’s fair in love and war” is taken to a somewhat cruel conclusion. She’s not even the thirstiest of the quints, as both Nino and Miku are trying to make their feelings for Futaro as clear to him as possible. Meanwhile, Yotsuba is trying the opposite tactic, saying that she’ll support whichever sister that isn’t her he picks, showing off a core of self-deprecation that we’ve seen before, but never to this level. And then there’s Itsuki, who seems to have forgotten she was supposed to be first girl. Great harem antics. – Sean Gaffney

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts, Vol. 9 | By Yu Tomofuji | Yen Press – I missed reviewing the eighth volume of this, for some reason; I’m not sure why. It continues to be quietly sweet, with a heroine who perhaps leans a little too much towards “can save everyone by the sheer power of being really nice.” That said, nice can only go so far, and when she discovers a country that’s being blackmailed into slavery, nice becomes determined and fierce. There’s also some tortured romance at the start—the king’s chief bodyguard and the princess’s attendant clearly are headed towards each other, but there are a few steps back here before we can move forward once more. I admit that I’d likely enjoy this more without its central conceit of animal people, but oh well. – Sean Gaffney

Snow White with the Red Hair, Vol. 7 | By Sorata Akiduki | Viz Media – I admit I was a bit more surprised than Shirayuki was at the identity of the leader of the Lions of the Mountain. That said, it does remind us that Shirayuki is another one of those great “shoujo heroines who underreacts to everything,” which can be quite amusing when done right. That said, this volume is when the series transitioned from the quarterly DX to the main LaLa magazine, and as such much of the middle part is taken up with introducing new readers to the main cast and the situation. This includes an amusing “personality reversal” chapter where Mitsuhide starts acting like a chivalrous knight. the book ends with the implication that their love is going public. How will that go? Great shoujo. – Sean Gaffney

Wandering Witch: The Journey of Elaina, Vol. 1 | By Jougi Shiraishi, Itsuki Nanao, and Azure | Square Enix – This is a manga adaptation of the first fourth or so of the light novel, and it’s a very good adaptation. I will admit that Elaina is a lot more expressive than I was expecting… her delivery in the novels is somewhat cool… but it makes sense given the manga’s visual medium, and she’s cute. This volume shows off what we’re going to get from now on: some cute fluffy stories, some melancholic stories with deaths, some stories of Elaina having to extricate herself from a situation, and some backstory showing how she came to be wandering. The final story was one of my favorites in the book, and it’s the best one here too. A nice adaptation. – Sean Gaffney

By: Ash Brown

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Rant (Nov 27 + Other Side Tales)

My siblings are currently mad at me. Here’s what went down. Tagging: @akaskira​ @ce-la​ @caratheillustrious​ Who are all practically my spiritual online older sister/sage advice givers and @lizard-in-the-rain​ who can be an idiot along with me.

For context:  Ate = Sister Kuya = Brother * My dad and I have a rocky past because he’s very old-fashioned, hasn’t been always supportive about my mental health, and is really old and out of date (especially about LGBTQ, feminism, HK protests, etc.) * My sister also has a rocky past with me but has since calmed down a little thanks to old age (she’s 23) * My brother is constantly busy with school (and stressed), is still mourning his breakup after a few months which continues to salt his wounds (not because his ex is crappy but she’s really nice. He’s having a bit of trouble still.), and is a very sensitive person (more sensitive than my sister)

Further in, you can see what happened at the orchestra concert on Saturday. For context, you can check out a previous rant.

Me: Dad got some bad oil burns. I was in the family room as he was yelling “[MOM NAME x 3] WHAT DO I DO WITH OIL BURNS?” Mom was upstairs and didn’t hear They are kinda big He’s upset

Ate: What the why didn't you help him call mom???? did you??? yike oil burns are no joke bc they hurt for longer bc water just steams away but oil sticks and keeps burning and the scars are worse

Me: Uh... I was scrolling on tumblr? I don’t know. I thought he already put ice.

Ate: smh

Me: But looking back, I heard the water running for less than a minute.

Ate: LOL

Me: And never heard the freezer open

Ate: water won't help unless you use soap anyways

Me: So I thought he did that but he was really just yelling for mom He didn’t even ice it. He said he ran some water over it.

Ate: make sure you help if someone yells for help next time even if you think it's handled bc if a person is panicking/in pain they're likely not thinking straight to help themselves speaking from experience

Me: Mom tried to give him advice now and he just walked away going “uh huh”

Ate: even I know to put my hand under cold running water and ice it but I've definitely not done that when I've burnt myself before I would be pretty choked too if there were 2 other people in the house and neither of them came to help me when I got oil burns

Me: Mom was upstairs and couldn’t hear. I thought he was crying wolf as usual.He yells for mom around three times on a daily basis

Ate: fair but fr next time take the 5 seconds to check bc sometimes bad things happenesp if all you hear is a thud

Me: “[Mom Name x 3 again] I CANT FIND THE [blank]!!!” Mom: it’s been in the same spot for over a decade. Look with your eyes.

Me: Mom does that once every other day (has a big thud) usually because something broke. When I heard the yell this time, I thought it was because he knocked something over. Dad is always yelling He even asked mom how to make the rice And didn’t make it because she didn’t answer fast enough Dad is a drama queen. That’s where we all get it from.

Ate: I mean

Kuya: Tf is this situation How can you ignore someone in need of help Regardless of who it is Doesn't it hurt to see someone suffering

Me: I didn’t see anything

Kuya: Unless you hold extreme animosity Like they killed your mom or something I have to hand something in by 10 But I find this quite upsetting

Me: I didn’t see anything, and the last thing he yelled was an oil burn, and the only advice I had was water and ice which I thought he already did.

Me (in response to animosity): Not extreme, but living with him with only me as the child has screwed a lot of things up.It has taken a toll on my sympathy for people (or whatever is left)

Ate: Same but he's still our dad?

Me: Eh, I honestly thought it was a small thing until I saw it.

Ate: I have only shreds of respect for him left but idk if I would go as far as to just overlook "oil burn" and figure "oh, I can't help so I'll ignore him" like that's a lil funny

Me: Again, when someone is constantly yelling, there’s a point where you don’t listen fully to what they’re saying. It only registered later that his burns might actually be serious and more than putting your fingertip on a hot pan. I also have little sympathy due to how he’s treated me during my past situations so honestly, I’ve little tolerance.

Afterwards, my mom called my sister who was absolutely hysterical and screaming on the other line to the point where my mom had to pull the phone away from her ear.

________________

Some Stupid Orchestra Stories:

Things I have said to my orchestra cohorts that might’ve scared them:

*sees me bump my instrument* Trumpet: Ouch Me (walking away): Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches, and dead men tell no tales. Doug: What?

*sees me bump my bow* Doug: Ouch Me (tired because I was just excluded from the conversation today because no one would listen to what I had to say): I’m going to stab you Doug: Pat, protect me!

Me: *tells anything about school* Everyone: MAJOR CONCERN (Examples: Kid said that this guy could have sex with his friend before she turned 21 by slipping a drug into her drink, kid saying he was going to hit a girl with a metal bar from the desk, kids smoking out back, kids make noise downstairs which causes the room I work in to shake, kids throwing stuff out car windows, kids brawling, my science teacher from regular school failing me for practically no reason)

More of an annoying incident from me: Hannah: Who’re you messaging? Your girlfriend? Sean: Yeah Me: YOU’RE STILL TOGETHER?! Sean: (sheepishly) yeah

To be fair, I get weirded out whenever they flash their privilege as semi-well off rich kids.  “Remember those special trips you get to take with your school to learn more about science? // Remember those international trips you take with your school club?” Me: ...no?! I’m not poor, I just dropped out of school before I could even go to my nearest McDonalds for a field trip.

But Doug is a little dumb sometimes. He doesn’t get my sense of humour (understandable), but he’s a little ignorant towards not-privileged people. 

He literally said he goes to sleep at 9:30pm, got into university (this is a semi-prestigious one) first try with 90s in all of his classes (at least), has a girlfriend, has friends, and doesn’t understand why anyone would stay later than that unless they had poor time management. His words, not mine. My brother stays there until around 12am studying. He was not happy to hear that. Doug is first year so my siblings are making fun of him saying he will perish in a year’s time. My parents saw him stealing kisses from his girlfriend in a parking lot during the day of our last concert. I seriously though the girl in his profile picture was his sister and not his girlfriend because they were both seriously white. Whiter than a bowl of milk I tell you.

He also doesn’t know what a period app would be for. I was a little annoyed. My brother knows about this well enough because we all know my sister and mom would not let anyone in this family live if they did not know the ins-and-outs of a period. Doug was like, “Why would you need to track that?” I responded, “Because they’re irregular.” He looked a little puzzled and I said, “Douglas, you’re a science major. There’s sex ed in school.” He responded that he is going into research (not sure what that has to do with menstrual ignorance) and never paid attention during sex ed (since it’s never for marks). I then got a little more pushy and said, “Well, if you ever want a girlfriend, maybe you should learn.” To which he said, “I have a girlfriend”. To which I gave him a look of:

Stories from the orchestra concert:

I did tell the bass instructor about this so maybe it’ll get sorted out but I did this “tell the teacher” thing twice where it backfired terribly. Let’s hope university kids are a little more grown up.

My messages from that night: Pat told me it was cute when I played in the wrong spots. It was genuine like she said it was cute. But it was like ??? I was having a panic attack. My brain left my body. I don’t want to play anymore. Then she put up her bow to make sure I wouldn’t flip the page Then she hit her bow on her bass. I really don’t want to play anymore. (She also repeated the same thing twice knowing from a previous talk that I have bad anxiety. She has anxiety as well.)

Me: Then Hannah and Patricia were commenting on my shoes. I like wearing my orthotics. They make my feet feel not in pain. Ate: tell them that Me: I did They told me to take off my shoes “They can’t even see my feet” I’m all the way in the back behind people “Then take off your shoes” “But then I’ll be in pain” “But you sit” (I have one foot on the ground) “So take them off. It’s for dress code. People can see you” Ate:  but it's literally a medical thing Tell them to actually fuck off hoh my god it's like asking a blind person to put their stick away bc people will trip on it or that you can't have your service dog with you like????

[theliterateape]

I Like to Watch | Pet Sematary (2019)

By Don Hall

Full confession: I love the work of Stephen King like a gender studies student loves bell hooks or a middle-aged cosplayer loves J.K. Rowling. I’ve read every thing he’s published (including the Richard Bachman stuff) and he is one of those rare authors whom I can revisit periodically and still enjoy. I think I’ve read The Stand five times and the entire Gunslinger series at least ten. Much to Himmel’s frustration, it could be argued that my writing style comes from my wading in deep to King’s prose and coming out of it with some seriously bad habits that I tend to really enjoy.

Like putting my internal asides in italics which drives my co-editor insane…

I am not exactly a superfan of the movies that have been adapted from his books. There are currently forty-six movies adapted from King’s books and short stories with three more coming to date. Aside from those three, I’ve seen them all at least once (and some multiple times).

For every brilliant adaptation — Carrie (1976), The Dead Zone (1983), Misery (1990), The Shawshank Redemption (1994), IT (2017) — there are some equally terrible attempts — Maximum Overdrive (1986), The Lawnmower Man (1992), Thinner (1996), Cell (2016), The Dark Tower (2017). After multiple viewings of even the crap, my conclusion (with a few exceptions) is unless you’re Stanley Kubrick, don’t fuck with King’s language or plot in any way.

Frank Darabont and Rob Reiner get it. The Shawshank Redemption, The Green Mile, The Mist, Stand by Me, and Misery, are all uniformly excellent and part of that was what was written in the books was put on the screen with little tinkering. Kubrick gets the big pass because, well, he’s Kubrick and The Shining (1980) is a singular work of genius despite what King has to say about it.

So whenever I hear that a screenwriter has changed some of the essential plotting of one of these books to make a script, I’m dubious. I read that Jeff Buhler, David Kajganich, and Matt Greenberg decided to update the third act of Pet Sematary and I rolled my eyes in that way that a Marvel fan cranks his rubber neck up with incredulity when someone praises the FOX Fantastic Four shitshows.

I had just seen Jordon Peele’s Us and had some real problems with the third act explanations even though the first two thirds were extraordinary and, while I love both versions of IT, I dread the ending of the upcoming second part because (and this is King’s fault and no one else’s) Pennywise is far scarier as a fucking clown that as a giant spider.

OK. Enough preamble.

Pet Sematary is the tale of Dr. Louis Creed (Jason Clarke), his wife Rachel (Amy Seimetz) and their two children, Ellie (Jeté Laurence) and Gage (Hugo & Lucas Lavoie) as they move from Boston to the ever familiar haunting grounds of Stephen King (rural Maine) only to discover a pet cemetery on their property. Their old neighbor, Jud (John Lithgow), befriends Louis and, when Ellie’s cat, Church, gets run over on the side of the road, takes him past the graveyard to an ancient burial ground that brings the dead back to life. Except that they come back evil. 

It’s a perfect expansion of The Monkey’s Paw tale.

An evil cat is kind of an oxymoron but you get the drift.

SPOILERS, FUCKER!

In both the book and the 1989 version, it is Gage who gets squashed by a truck and whom Creed takes up to the burial ground and comes back evil. Jeff Buhler, David Kajganich, and Matt Greenberg decided to monkey with King’s Monkey’s Paw send up and have it be Ellie instead. And it works! In fact, I’d argue it works even better than having Gage (who is precious and cute but pretty much preverbal) and in no small part due to Laurence’s scary as fuck portrayal of Evil Ellie). Directors Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer are deft with the camera and provide some great jump scares along the way.

It’s such a simple change but watching a more advanced female evil child is somehow more sinister, more malevolent. Especially as Creed brings her back because he needs more time with Daddy’s Girl and she is anything but his precious apple of his eye. The feelings of grief over a toddler are excruciating but the grief over the loss of a child in her budding years, as she learns the ins and outs of human behavior and as her personality has blossomed in front of you carries with it more weight. Watching her become malevolent and gleefully murderous after seeing her delight in a doll or brood over her cat is devastating.

King writes in an interstitial in The Bazaar of Bad Dreams:

“I hate the assumption that you can’t write about something because you haven’t experienced it, and not just because it assumes a limit on the human imagination, which is basically limitless. It also suggests that some leaps of identification are impossible. I refuse to accept that, because it leads to the conclusion that real change is beyond us, and so is empathy. The idea is false on the evidence. Like shit, change happens. If the British and the Irish can make peace, you gotta believe there’s a chance that someday the Jews and Palestinians will work things out. Change only occurs as a result of hard work, I think we’d all agree on that, but hard work isn’t enough. It also requires a strenuous leap of the imagination: what is it really like to be in the other guy or gal’s shoes?”

Based on that, I’d like to hope that soon, King will write a horror story featuring a black family that Jordon Peele can then make into a movie. That’d be amazing.