#did we make every single mistake conceivable while doing it? hell yes

[fortunatelychaoticphantom]

The current situation is Israel is very confusing to a lot of people, and the word "colonizers" is thrown a lot in conversations, social media and protests. If you are not sure whether you can or should call Israel a colonial state, here is a handy guide divided by origin-country of the speaker:

The UK: OUR INDEPENDENCE IS LITERALLY FROM YOU!

Italy: THIS IS LITERALLY ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!

Egypt, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Greece, North Macedonia, Turkey, Mongolia: Every single one of you has conquered us at least once, so keep your mouth shut or start talking about reparations. (Yes, even the Mongols. Did you know that? I only found out a couple of years ago. Isn't that cool? I mean bad. Very bad...)

Every single country in the American continent + the surrounding islands, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, China, India, Russia, Georgia, Azerbaijan, Armenia: LOL. Don't even fucking look at us.

Portugal, Spain, France, Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Sweden, Norway, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, Morocco, Algeria, Libya, Japan: Let me check a history book for a sec. Yeah, no.

Every other nation in the world: I don't know enough about your history to put you in another category, but no.

Liberia: Literally the only nation in the entire world that knows even half of what we’re going through. They’re not colonizers, and neither are we. Stop trying to force your Western terminology on our history.

North Korea: I think you need to deal with some other issues right now darling...

Hope this helps.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Slumbering Hearts (Alcina Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language/brief nudity Warnings: None Summary: In a wicked twist of fate, you find out your soulmate is none other than your employer, Lady Dimitrescu. To your misery, she (at first) seems equally displeased, her heart already belonging to another. But in time, the two of you find yourselves wondering... could the universe be right, after all? Soulmate AU in which every person has a unique "soul mark", which they share with their soulmate. Notes: Reader is gender neutral, but at some points will be described as leaning towards being feminine (due to personal interpretation of Alcina's character). Additionally, Lady D will eventually be referred to by her first name, so don't worry if you feel weird about her being called by her full title all the time, it's just for this chap, when the reader isn't familiar with her. Lastly, this contains a bit of one sided Alcina/Miranda, which serves as a plot point, but is (clearly) not the primary ship.

1: In The Shadow Of Giants

Three months, two weeks, and one day. That’s how long you’ve been at this accursed castle, serving cruel mistresses, having been plucked from your peaceful life in the village. Anger stains your every thought, slowly festering inside your chest. There is no cure, at least not without a fatal price, but there are mild remedies. ‘Tis not long before the other servants learn to give you the more physically demanding chores. Nothing numbs your mind quite the same way that chopping firewood does, though you often settle for hard scrubbing age-old tile. Every day ends with your muscles crying from the effort of it all. Every day… except today. Another servant, from the night shift, has been wounded severely, and her job was deemed too important to be foregone.

And, as such, she has been replaced. By you. For once, you turn in early, long before your clothes can become stained with sweat. Yet you aren’t happy, not when you know that this change will ruin your sleep for weeks to come. Even worse, it’ll be impossible to avoid your ‘employers’, whereas working the day shift meant almost never seeing them. So far, you have only seen them on four or five occasions. Hell, you’ve only met two of them, being Cassandra and Bela. Based on what others told you, the other two weren’t much (if at all) better. As you try your best to get some rest, only a single ‘positive’ thought runs through your head: Well, worst comes to worst, I’ll get killed, then I won’t have to worry about anything anymore.

---------------------------

“Remember: No talking unless you’re asked a question. The Mistress has had a rough morning, and this is her best chance at relaxing,” Juniper explains, for what seems like the eighth time since the two of you met. There’s a nervous energy around her, which does little to ease your own anxieties. If you heard correctly, she’s only been at the castle for a couple weeks, having previously worked for Mother Miranda. You’re not sure what would have caused the transfer, considering most who were ‘fired’ ended up dead. Something told you that it had to do with antsy nature. “Oh, and don’t leave unless dismissed, even once your part is done. We all need to be ready, in case Mistress- I mean, Lady Dimitrescu needs something. Sorry, I’m still getting used to how things work here.”

“As long as you don’t slip up in front of her and get us both killed, I don’t really care,” you replied, giving Juniper a level stare. Clearly unsure how to respond, she pauses for a moment, mouth opening then closing without a sound. Once she’s seemingly composed herself, you give a short nod and push open the door to the bathroom. Two other servants are already inside, and they flinch at your arrival, briefly mistaking you for their boss. “I can hardly believe they made me change shifts for this,” you add, under your breath, rolling your eyes. What was so important about making sure a few candles stayed lit? During bathtime? Maybe it was something you had to be a giant, vampiric noblewoman to understand. Regardless of your annoyance, you quickly get to work, striking the first of a couple matches. It’s a rather dull task. To think you would have preferred heavy labor to this.

Before long, the last flame springs to life, and Juniper dims the lights, allowing the candles to become the focus. At least one is scented, though you cannot place the specific kind. Less than a minute after the last one is lit, the door once again swings open, revealing your most elusive employer. She’s… more than you anticipated. In every conceivable way, truthfully. Taller, more graceful (even as she has to duck through the entrance), and, as much as you hate to think so, far, far more beautiful. If not for the warm lighting of the room, you would have worried about someone seeing your blush. Certainly I am not the first to react this way, you think, as you bow alongside the others.

“Yes, yes, get on with it,” Lady Dimitrescu says, with a sharp frown. Then she moves closer to the tub, which you imagine could fit half a dozen ‘normal’ people, and holds out her arms to her side. For a moment you’re confused, but you instinctively mimic the motions of the other maidens. Together the four of you reach for her robe, gently taking hold of it while she steps into the bath, before hanging it onto a nearby hook. A second later your entire world is turned upside down. You’re freezing in place, eyes wide, as the bare back of Lady Dimitrescu reveals itself to you. Yet this is not an instance of poorly veiled lust. No, it is equal parts horror and repulsion, for you find yourself staring at a distinctive soul marking.

One that matches your own.

Beside you, Juniper watches you with concern, silently urging you to stay silent. Neither of the other two servants seem to react, other than by taking a small step backwards. Unable to speak, let alone form coherent thoughts, all you can do is point a trembling finger towards the soul mark. It’s right in between Lady Dimitrescu’s shoulder blades. Once upon a time, you had marveled at the design, smiling every time you saw it in the mirror. Now, it might as well be the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. Based on her expression, Juniper seems to agree, although for different reasons. As your hand drops back to your side, you try to compose yourself enough to focus on the task before you. Instead, someone breaks the quiet, boldly, daring to think that they would be rewarded for it.

“My Lady,” a servant says, stepping forward, shooting you a waywards glance. Instantly she has your employer’s attention, though that comes with the metallic sssssslk of her claws extending. There’s an unspoken threat that demands respect. None comes, however, just the frenzied words of a panicked maiden. “I know who your soulmate is, my Lady. I thought that perhaps you’d-”

“A name. Give me… a name,” Lady Dimitrescu interjects, claws still out and impatiently tapping on the tile floor. Tense, you start to step forward, wanting desperately to silence the treacherous maiden. But her tongue is faster than your fist, and soon enough your name is echoing through the room. “Oh? The one right behind me, hmm? Dreadfully convenient, really. Step forward, dear, and let me see the proof. Assuming it exists.” All eyes other than hers are on you, now. With a deep breath, you begrudgingly step in front of Lady Dimitrescu, trying not to even briefly glance at her chest (or worse, lower). One of her hands shifts, a long claw tilting your chin up. “Well?”

“Forgive the placement,” you mutter, awkwardly grabbing your shirt collar, tugging it down to reveal your soul mark, planted neatly on the center of your chest. If Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze wanders, it does so too quickly to be noticed, though she does make a low humming noise at the sight. Feeling much like a piece of meat on display at the butcher’s, you scowl deeply. Soon enough, but not as soon as you’d like, the claw under your chin retracts, and you once more cover up your soul mark. You can’t bring yourself to look your soulmate in the eyes.

“Hmm. Not what I expected. Not at all,” she muses, more to herself than to you, softly. Behind her, Juniper is sending you a sympathetic expression. All you can do, as Lady Dimitrescu judges you, is glare at the origin of this revelation. What did she think to gain by speaking up? Hadn’t she heard the same rumors that you had? Didn’t she know that your employer already loved another, even if that affection was unrequited? There was, simply put, no chance that you were the preferable option. Not when there was no race against neither time nor death. At best, you could be a distraction. Something to keep her mind off of the person she’d rather be with. “Go clean up, get some sustenance if you must, then go to my quarters. We will discuss this further there- after I am done here.”

With that said, she waves you off, letting you relax for the first time in several minutes. After giving a short bow, you immediately move to leave. On your way, you intentionally bump shoulders with the maiden who spoke up, sending her a glare, then give Juniper a nod of acknowledgement. Nervous wreck or not, she was the only person you ‘knew’ on the night shift. Not that such a thing would even matter soon. To think that we’ve been soulmates this whole time, you think, living in the same castle for months, never seeing each other. I wish things could have stayed that way. At least you’d have some time to process your developing situation. Though you doubted you’d have enough time.

---------------------------

In an unusual change of pace, Alcina dismisses the rest of her servants, long before her bath is done. They exchange glances before scattering to the winds. A heavy sigh leaves her lips, and she sinks lower into the tub. Of course I have a soulmate, she thinks, bitterly. I knew this. Knew that it wasn’t her, and yet still, I find myself surprised. Disappointed, even. How had an already rough evening gotten even worse? More than that, what was she supposed to do about it? There was a part of her that wanted to kill her soulmate. She figured that, with them out of the way, the universe might finally understand who she was meant to be with. After all, it wasn’t uncommon for ‘widows’ to be given a new match, and those were generally other ‘widows’. Considering that Alcina knew for a fact that Mother Miranda’s soulmate had long since died, she did not think that her hopes were beyond possibility.

But there was another part of her, quieter, that dared to be more realistic. If the universe said that this human, this tiny thing, was her soulmate… would it not make sense to at least try? What harm could it do, when her current love had been unrequited for so long? Was this not the end to several decades of loneliness? Damn it, she thinks, gripping the edge of the bathtub until her knuckles turned white. There was no denying it, now that a single drop of rational thought had corrupted her mind. Fuck it all, I hardly have a choice. Or anything to lose, for that matter. With her decision made, she rises to her feet, emotionally ready to face the unknown.

---------------------------

“Ah, so you do follow directions, after all. I half expected to learn that you had attempted to flee, or perhaps had a gruesome run in with one of my daughters,” Lady Dimitrescu chimes, as she ducks into her room. Inside, standing at attention, you await. All of your earlier nervousness returns, though this time it is tinged with your natural rage. Of all the monsters in the world, this was the one you were expected to love. It mattered not how tall she was, or how sharp her nails could be, or how fierce her loyalty to Mother Miranda. To you, it mattered that you had no choice in being here, that only a handful of servants had come to the castle willingly. It mattered that a single mistake could mean a cruel death. So you did not greet your soulmate with a smile, or excitement, rather with a forced bow and blank expression. Better to be dead than to fake true love. “Come now, do at least pretend that you are excited, for my sake. I have been waiting a century for this, after all.”

“Perhaps the universe found it difficult to find someone who could love you,” you say, the words tumbling out of your mouth, instant regret boiling up inside of you. What you expect is a swift death. What you get? A deep sigh, a scowl, a look of frustration. Still fearing your possible demise, you are quick to keep speaking. “Or maybe the universe heard me talk once, and struggled to find someone to tolerate me. Countless possibilities, a galaxy full of mysteries… and here we are. Forgive me for being crass, my Lady. I would blame it on my schedule change, but something tells me you would see right through that lie, yes?” Not like that was much better, you think, wondering how the hell you were going to survive this.

“You’re quite the character, aren’t you?... Do try not to make me regret this, I’d rather not kill my soulmate. Now, sit down, it’s about time for a proper introduction,” Lady Dimitrescu commands. Then she’s sitting on the edge of her bed, gently patting the spot next to her. Joining her is just about the last thing you want to do right now… but you obey nonetheless. Still, you angle yourself away from her ever so slightly, hoping the subtle body language would help you distance yourself from her. There’s something in her expression that tells you she knows exactly what you’re trying to do. “I am Lady Dimitrescu, though you already know that. You may call me Alcina… for now. Behave, or that is one of many privileges I will not hesitate to take from you. Understood?”

It takes all of your willpower to avoid rolling your eyes, but you manage, instead giving a short nod. This’ll be interesting, for sure.

[edenmemes]

hades sentence starters

❝ somebody else came through earlier. you should have seen the look on my face when it wasn’t you! ❞ ❝ let’s forgive each other and forget, go back to how things used to be? ❞ ❝ right now i wouldn’t talk to me if i were you. ❞ ❝ i’ll have to pick up the pieces somehow, and figure out how to get on with my existence. ❞ ❝ we have caused such violence in the intervening time, that we must take this as a real victory. ❞ ❝ i’ll wait for you however long it takes. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry. but this is something i have to do. you wouldn’t understand. ❞ ❝ the only one responsible for all of this is you. and i thought even you would have understood that by now. ❞ ❝ i don’t like it when you’re quiet for too long, what’s on your mind? ❞ ❝ what is it with you gods talking behind the backs of all your friends? ❞ ❝ the world you seek out there...it’s even crueler than the one you know. ❞ ❝ look, i don’t hold grudges, you know that. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ your lapse in judgement here is not so easy to forgive, yet easily punished. ❞ ❝ i didn’t mean to lose my temper with you. ❞ ❝ the fates are pretty mean to keep on doing this to you. ❞ ❝ i hardly think this is the time or place to indulge your overwrought imagination. ❞ ❝ for our sparring practice, there's no teacher than the real thing. ❞ ❝ they say a lot of things about me; and they’ll tell you, ample caution is in order. ❞ ❝ either your limitless power has considerably waned, are you are up to something. ❞ ❝ i risked everything by helping you out there. ❞ ❝ my voice is nothing but the crunch of gravel underfoot compared to yours, which soars as though on wings. ❞ ❝ to doubt is an important instinct. without it, we could not conceive of better circumstances than the ones we know. ❞ ❝ let’s not set a bad example for the family. we’re better than all that, they’ve many bad examples as it is. ❞ ❝ you are persuasive like your mother, and determined like your father. ❞ ❝ if you think for an instant that i shall go easier on you, you’ll soon learn otherwise. ❞ ❝ is clinging to a memory what keeps the soul from fading? ❞ ❝ don’t know what it is about you, but i feel like i can be me with you, you know? ❞ ❝ war, much like the heavens and the sea, can be considered as a force of nature. ❞ ❝ if you know that you could only see me for but a moment’s time...would you still make the journey for me? ❞ ❝ i, too, wish for a lot of things. unfortunately there’s no unraveling the fates’ patterns. ❞ ❝ i left when it was necessary. i thought of you and hoped you’d understand. ❞ ❝ all of which you think you have achieved was merely handed to you. ❞     ❝ the past me, it’s as though...it wasn’t even me. this is me, now. ❞ ❝ in war, one must take sides, and you had best choose mine. ❞ ❝ i do not act by whim or by mistake. ❞ ❝ i just don’t understand. why keep on being nice to me, like this? ❞ ❝ you’re so much more than what you said. i wish you could see that. ❞ ❝ it’s really nice, sometimes...knowing somebody really cares about me. ❞ ❝ my father? he’d not a one redeeming quality. ❞ ❝ we can learn from our mistakes or we can keep repeating them. ❞     ❝ there’s nothing you can do to hurt me. ❞     ❝ soon doubtless it’ll be your portrait hanging on that wall back there. ❞ ❝ just don’t go starting any wars you don’t intend to finish. ❞ ❝ you do something for me, in the meantime: don’t give in to what you’re feeling now. ❞ ❝ it is not often i attempt to kill someone and they survive. bravo! ❞ ❝ why does the soul remain, after the body bleeds, and dies, and turns to ash? ❞ ❝ all gods and goddesses are to be feared. ❞ ❝ what more could i have even done? could i have swayed you, in any other way? ❞ ❝ i tried, with all my might, with all my heart, you must know that, and still, it never was enough. ❞ ❝ i’m pleased to see your father’s stubbornness is manifest in you as such determination. ❞ ❝ i’m really starting to hate you. you know that? ❞ ❝ know that i am grateful for the outcome. even if i fail to act like it ❞ ❝ i’m with you every step. then i will probably ignore you like the rest. just warning you ahead of time. ❞ ❝ i only wish we met sooner, though i’m grateful to have met you at all. ❞ ❝ you work too hard. live a little. ❞ ❝ i warn you: i shall hold nothing back. ❞ ❝ that’s something very private that you’re asking... ❞ ❝ use caution with the tone you take with me. ❞ ❝ if you have any sense remaining in that head of yours, i caution you not to discuss this here and now. ❞ ❝ you saw something in me i never knew was there. in turn, with you, i felt....calm. whole. ❞ ❝ i only know that i was filled with rage. ❞ ❝ the fates decided this for us, i guess, and so...who are we to complain? ❞ ❝ i pray the fates not ruin all your dreams as they did mine. ❞ ❝ what’s the worst that could happen? ❞ ❝ they left their mark upon the world. shall you? ❞ ❝ your mockery of me may temporarily embolden you, but achieves nothing useful in the end. ❞ ❝ what exactly is it that makes you feel entitled to show me such disrespect? ❞ ❝ i’ve got to admit, you are really frustrating, you know? ❞ ❝ i seem to have this whole ‘easy-to-underestimate’ thing about me. ❞ ❝ you seem a little quieter than usual. dare i even say a little somber and remorseful, for some reason? ❞ ❝ it’s because i like you. in case you still have some misgivings about that. ❞ ❝ keep following that heart of yours. it’s good enough a guide, believe me. ❞ ❝ you always seem in good spirits, though. ❞ ❝ i cannot change the past. and there is only so much i can do about the future. ❞ ❝ a loving heart is a forgiving heart. ❞ ❝ just in case it hasn’t been made clear as crystal lately, let me tell you: when presented with the opportunity, don’t ever reject me. ❞ ❝ you know, i got to say i had a few concerns when we first met, your father being who he is and all. ❞ ❝ i like it when my prey bites back. ❞ ❝ my attempts at making peace are going to be rather subtle for your tastes. ❞ ❝ you'd best not take for granted my affection yes, i’ve lots of it to go around; but i can just as easily rescind such privileges. ❞ ❝ don't be messing with my feelings. my loyalty's hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ the truth is i’m a lover, not a fighter. ❞ ❝ if i may say? you’re a hell of a guy. ❞ ❝ you truly take me to the best of places. ❞ ❝ death shall come. either to your enemies, or you. ❞ ❝ a mortal’s life is short, and fraught with pain; is that truly the life you yearn for? ❞ ❝ you think you are superior to me? you are a fool. ❞ ❝ even i have doubts, from time to time. ❞ ❝ i wasn’t expecting to make any new friends here anytime soon. ❞ ❝ i grow angry merely thinking of your situation. ❞ ❝ i wanted to apologize for when i pried about your past. ❞ ❝ nobody gets out of here, whether alive or dead. you think i jest? you think i haven’t tried? ❞ ❝ they got me, finally, of course. but not before i broke them first. ❞ ❝ you are immortal, but in a manner, you can die. ❞ ❝ you have a lot of nerve --- but little else. ❞ ❝ oh, you look terrible, if i may say. ❞ ❝ you’re either naive or you’re much too kind, or both. ❞ ❝ despite whatever difficulties you’ve encountered, again and again, you have never yielded. ❞ ❝ though, that war? don’t ask me about it again. all right? ❞ ❝ you may not make your father very proud, but it is just the opposite with me. ❞ ❝ even i’m beginning to fear you, i think. seems i don’t know you as well as i thought. ❞ ❝ you have a worried look about you. spare me your thoughts? ❞ ❝ names are there to be forgotten. ❞ ❝ it’s not your fault. you couldn’t have known. ❞ ❝ i know it’s not been easy for you. ❞ ❝ you honor me...i have done nothing to deserve this. ❞ ❝ oh, how i hate to fight with you like this! ❞ ❝ follow your heart? that’s odd advice, especially from you. ❞ ❝ the fear of death keeps mortals well in check. you’d best learn to fear something yourself. ❞ ❝ you are going to get me in a heap of trouble before all is said and done. ❞ ❝ i'll hear no more such wicked lies, half-truths, or quarter-truths. ❞ ❝ well, if you won’t say it, i’ll say it. good-bye. ❞ ❝ i know of no one, nothing stronger, other than the love we share. ❞ ❝ i’ve some memories i’m not quite ready to give up on, yet. ❞ ❝ you seem less warlike than the rest. ❞ ❝ can’t always trust what feelings say. ❞ ❝ my temper i shall keep in check, but only barely so. ❞ ❝ i am unmade, unwhole, here in this place, alone. ❞ ❝ my past is not really worth mentioning. ❞ ❝ you may not really need me, but i will take these opportunities to help. ❞ ❝ you sound a little tongue-tied. just like you always used to around me. ❞     ❝ you should be ashamed of yourself, and learn your place. ❞ ❝ this look like a shoulder to cry on to you? ❞ ❝ ...you know who you sound like right now, don’t you? i can’t believe this. ❞     ❝ i think, deep down, you are still that inexperienced little godling that you used to be. ❞ ❝ i always had doubts the gods were listening. that they could even hear. ❞ ❝ i was just checking up on you, just...let me know if you wanted to talk, for any reason. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i know, it’s that the three fates always get their way. ❞ ❝ hey, you’re not alone. you’re not alone, ok? ❞ ❝ you're not exactly easy to approach, you know. ❞          ❝ i grieve for you, my friend. ❞ ❝ are you lecturing me about healthy relationships with family? your family is the most broken and corrupted in the history of the entire concept. ❞ ❝ you think you can just walk away from me? ❞ ❝ how about it, then? care for a drink, with me? ❞     ❝ you are entirely too young to have had meaningful experience with loss. ❞ ❝ something the matter, there? or have you come to torment me some more with idle chat? ❞ ❝ you will find me waiting for you once you get here. every single time. ❞ ❝ men worship ares willingly; they are so much like him. ❞ ❝ while love’s the force that brought me and countless other’s low in life, it also brought me and countless others strength. ❞ ❝ others shall always doubt me. you may doubt me. ❞ ❝ beware the narrow distance between hastiness and swiftness. ❞ ❝ a crashing wave or thundering tempest are nothing to a broken heart. ❞ ❝ think back on when you started all of this. you now know so much more. are capable of so much more. ❞ ❝ as ever, you think only of yourself. ❞ ❝ this is where you belong. you feel out of place? where would you even go? your place is here. ❞ ❝ your path is yours to shape as you see fit, regardless of the fates’ design. ❞ ❝ you’re no god! you’re nothing but a piece of trash, born into all of this. ❞ ❝ you seem to have me all figured out. and here i thought we were still getting to know each other. ❞ ❝ are there truly no depths to which you would not stoop? ❞ ❝ leave me be, and don’t think you’re going to be so lucky next time we meet out there. ❞ ❝ you have the tendency to ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ i smell the blood on you. you are severely wounded. ❞ ❝ don’t be messing with my feelings there. my trust is hard-won and quickly lost. ❞ ❝ if you wish to test the fine relationship we’ve built, why then, i can confirm you’re testing it, all right. ❞ ❝ don’t ever take me for some thoughtless nymph to be manipulated. ❞ ❝ don’t get on my father’s bad side like that and you’re going to be fine. ❞ ❝ how’s your endless toil treating you? ❞ ❝ i’d never trade my bow for all that pomp and armor. but, to each their own. ❞ ❝ let me see you now for what you truly are. ❞ ❝ was i deceived, in thinking this of you, of us? ❞ ❝ i get what i want around here. ❞ ❝ don’t you understand i’m trying to fix the problems you caused? ❞ ❝ the gods are on my side, not yours. ❞ ❝ don’t you dare look at me like that. ❞ ❝ life isn’t particularly fair. i’d have expected you to know as much. ❞ ❝ i’m leaving. try and stop me. ❞ ❝ you have no concept of which impulses to act upon, and which to keep in check. ❞ ❝ when i inevitably, inadvertently trample all over your feelings at some point, please tell me, all right? ❞ ❝ you don’t even know who i am. who i was. ❞ ❝ won’t you come back to me? when you are able, please. come back. i shall be waiting here, however long it takes. ❞ ❝ never met a god that bleeds like you. red. like a worthless mortal. ❞ ❝ i got to hanf it to you. you don’t back down. you don’t ever back down. ❞ ❝ i’ve a tip for you: don’t be slow! ❞ ❝ you can’t escape your problems. you have no choice but to confront them, and work through it, sooner or later, one way or another. ❞ ❝ i knew you had a more sinister trick at play, because your fighting style certainly is of no concern just on its own. ❞ ❝ i...feel awful. i...i have to go. ❞ ❝ once people set their minds to certain things, it can be difficult to show them other possibilites exist. ❞ ❝ there’s something that i’ve wished to tell you: there’s no shame in your upbringing. ❞ ❝ i have known too many far too proud to accept help, even when it was sorely needed. ❞ ❝ may you yet come to your senses. ❞ ❝ i have virtually done everything within my powers to prevent this. all of it...for nothing. ❞ ❝ you can’t be serious. you’re going to pretend as though it never happened? ❞ ❝ seems i’m left to thanking myself, since you’re too proud to do it. ❞ ❝ fight like i’d fight out there. ❞ ❝ what have i done to deserve such scorn? ❞ ❝ you left, without so much as telling me good-bye. ❞ ❝ you’ve such weak blood, and such a temperament... ❞ ❝ i am very, very sure i haven’t murdered anyone. ❞ ❝ i am truly blessed simply to have made your acquantince. ❞ ❝ you wish to take advantage of my pity? ❞ ❝ it comforts me to see how far you’ve come. ❞ ❝ i’ve always wanted to kill a god. you’ll have to do. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to give me something in return, it was a gift! ❞ ❝ you know i’d take you if i could. ❞ ❝ you shut your mouth right now, with that. ❞ ❝ it’s never been an easy time for me. ❞ ❝ why do you think i keep on showing up? ❞ ❝ who might you be, wandering all the way out here? you’re trespassing on private property, you know. ❞ ❝ i’d rather have you as a friiend than as a foe. ❞ ❝ really, you’re kicking me out? why? ❞ ❝ you’re funny, but you’ll break. they always do. ❞ ❝ you must think that i abandoned you. you think i had a choice?❞ ❝ you’re stuck with me forever. remember that. ❞ ❝ you know these heroes by their deeds, not by their character. ❞ ❝ some would question the destruction which you sow, but i shall never do so. i fully understand your impulses. ❞ ❝ you’re quite effective at locating me, but not so good at leaving me in peace. ❞ ❝ you don’t need me & i don’t need you. ❞ ❝ you lived through all that? ❞ ❝ my heart soars, knowing you live. then it breaks, that our time together was so brief. ❞ ❝ you’ve only me. and i have only you. ❞ ❝ sulk in your chambers all you like, for i care not. ❞ ❝ where did you go...? what did you do...? ❞ ❝ monster! you have no bearing, grace or courage! ❞ ❝ you’re beneath the notice of the gods. i have earned their favor. ❞ ❝ your youth provides you with a certain mindless strength. ❞ ❝ wait. i don’t think i owe you any favors, here. ❞ ❝ you appear to have grown stronger since when last we interacted. ❞ ❝ please...it was never my wish to hurt you. ❞ ❝ death is your only family. ❞ ❝ i too was born of darkness, but i chose the path of light. ❞ ❝ don’t know how come everybody doesn’t sing. lightens the mood, passes the time. what’s not to like? ❞ ❝ you come from the bowels of hell. this is not your place. ❞ ❝ heroes? mere mortals, same as all the rest. ❞ ❝ offend me, and i’ll drain the last traces of colour from your cheeks. ❞ ❝ punishment is not the path to rehabilitation. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing like your father. i mean that as a compliment. ❞ ❝ i just hope that their intentions are as pure as they appear. ❞ ❝ don’t be sad, pretty much everybody dies sometime. ❞ ❝ i’ve done some things that maybe aren’t great. ❞ ❝ actions beat intentions. ❞ ❝ look! i’m grinning ear to ear! ❞ ❝ my fits of anger come and go just like the tides. ❞ ❝ you know, i’d rather have my eyes put out, but thanks for offering! ❞    ❝ you will need to face your fears someday. ❞ ❝ true wisdom only comes with age. ❞ ❝ something has stirred within your heart. i can always tell. ❞ ❝ or...wait...what is this, did you just ask me out? ❞ ❝ i’m getting awful sick of seeing your smug face, time, after time, after time. ❞ ❝ your humility is matched only by your perseverance in the face of adversity. ❞ ❝ your stubborness shall only bring you pain. ❞ ❝ sometimes, our hearts become so full that they could burst. if only you could see how much i care. ❞ ❝ let’s see if you’re as skillful as you think. ❞ ❝ wait, you’re not serious. that famous sense of humor shining through. ❞ ❝ i’m surrounded by my family, but i always feel alone. ❞ ❝ i shall make myself quite clear in one respect: i fear i have a lack of patience for discussion. ❞ ❝ thought i might find you all the way out here. although, quite frankly, i’m surprised you’re still alive. ❞ ❝ absolute silence is my general preference. it may not be yours. ❞ ❝ i just like to see you menacingly smile. ❞ ❝ don’t tell anyone about this, understand? ❞ ❝ i told you i don’t need your help. ❞ ❝ you’re much too modest for someone with such a number of heroic deeds to their name. ❞ ❝ if anybody asks, we’re even. ❞ ❝ we had a lovely time getting to know each other. we laughed, we cried! ❞ ❝ what’s the matter, you gone soft or something? ❞ ❝ be sure to add those to the list of words you’ll eat someday. ❞ ❝ you know i’d do just about anything to aid you. ❞ ❝ you again. i told you to stay clear of me. ❞ ❝ in spite of all your efforts, it is probably the case that you still have a long and painful road ahead. ❞ ❝ you’ve always cared for me. i can’t ever repay you for that. ❞ ❝ i just thought i’d say, that was well fought back there. ❞ ❝ hush, it’s the god of trash, come once again to filthy up this place. ❞ ❝ changed your mind yet, or looking for more pain and suffering? ❞ ❝ maybe get some sleep or something? you look pretty beat. ❞ ❝ look, i’ve got a reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ your father’s quite the big shot around here, but that means nothing to me, understand? ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. nobody does. ❞ ❝ there’s no returning to the way things used to be. ❞ ❝ can i offer you some words of advice? get over yourself. ❞ ❝ fear is for the weak. ❞ ❝ you now what i like about you? the way you bleed. ❞ ❝ may all the death you bring become the stuff of legends told in fearful mortal whisperings around the world. ❞ ❝ i just happen to think you deserve better than you’ve got. ❞ ❝ no love without pain. ��� ❝ failure is the greatest instructor of all. ❞ ❝ i think you feel like you have some sort of fearsome reputation to uphold. ❞ ❝ you know what? i think we’re finished here. ❞ ❝ i know you’re not in a good spot right now. ❞ ❝ what you’re attempting is impossible. ❞ ❝ i’m not your practice partner, fool. ❞ ❝ i know you don’t mean any harm, but it just isn’t something i discuss with anyone, ok? ❞ ❝ first you defy me openly, and now you lie. ❞ ❝ admit it. you can’t stop thinking about me. ❞ ❝ i’d like to be alone again, so you go on ahead. ❞ ❝ maybe this might numb the pain a bit. ❞ ❝ something’s troubled me a little, about you. ❞ ❝ your failure is quite easily imagined. how often it recurs! ❞ ❝ found this, thought of you and all that, so...here. ❞ ❝ how i love these unexpected little run-ins with you. ❞ ❝ what brings you back around this way again? ❞ ❝ now what’s the matter? it’s like you’ve been up feasting day and night, you’re barely standing, everything ok? ❞ ❝ first i found you, i was certain that you had no chance at all. ❞ ❝ if it wasn’t you proposing it, i’d like to call it madness. ❞ ❝ i'll sleep when i’m dead. ❞ ❝ thank you for not forgetting about me. ❞ ❝ you must see plainly, then, what your birthright amounts to: you’re no better off than any of us here. ❞ ❝ i’ll do my best. for both our sakes. ❞ ❝ the world is not all lies and deceit as you make it out to be. ❞ ❝ you fight so desperately. at first i thought you simply lacked in patience. but now i see it’s urgency that drives you. ❞ ❝ you don’t know who or what you’re dealing with. ❞ ❝ who are you to judge, you misbegotten, shameful, unfilial maggot? ❞ ❝ you’re getting real predictable, you know. ❞ ❝ no one can avoid taking sides forever. but you can take the more sensible side, at least. ❞ ❝ ahh, so you are taking pity on me, then? ❞ ❝ thank you for making me feel welcome in your pleasant home. can’t say the same for most places i’ve been lately. ❞   ❝ i would very much prefer to think we both know better than to let old grudges stew forever. ❞ ❝ nothing is ever perfect, right? no matter how hard you try. ❞ ❝ while i know what you meant, i don’t want you to say such things again. ❞ ❝ look at you, you’re hurt there pretty bad. ❞     ❝ i can’t be completely sure but, what you said just now i think contained some of the component pieces of a compliment? ❞ ❝ don’t fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ you’re stubborn. however, so am i. ❞ ❝ you think me cruel, yet know nothing of cruelty. ❞ ❝ you just stick with me, i’ve always time for you. ❞ ❝ you look a little down and so i was just wondering, would you perchance fancy a song right now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling we’re starting off on the wrong foot. ❞ ❝ a harsh winter is coming for you. and i’m afraid you’ve brought it on yourself. ❞ ❝ i was unkind last time. forgive my indiscretions there...or don’t. but i wished to apologize. ❞ ❝ don’t suppose i can talk you into fighting back this time? ❞ ❝ go occupy yourself someplace else. ❞ ❝ don’t feel bad! it had to happen! but if it’s any consolation, it’ll probably happen again! ❞ ❝ you’re running from yourself. ❞ ❝ wine does have a rather special way of making everybody look even more beautiful than ever. ❞ ❝ i am not interested in having company, especially from you. ❞ ❝ my faith is prone to shakiness sometimes. ❞ ❝ you’re not your father, thank the gods. ❞ ❝ i’d ask you to join me for a drink, but i know you’ve a task ahead of you, and liquor dulls the senses. ❞ ❝ you’re more stubborn than your father. i never thought that such a thing was possible. ❞ ❝ remember, next time, that on my whim i can take everything from you. ❞ ❝ haven’t we had more than enough of each other by now? ❞ ❝ i get the feeling i’m being watched. ❞ ❝ you’ve berated me repeatedly and often. ❞ ❝ you ever lose somebody dear to you? ❞ ❝ as you grow long in years, perhaps you shall learn better judgement as to whom to trust, and whom to never, ever disrespect. ❞ ❝ sometimes things weigh heavily on me, but then i hear from you, and it’s like i don’t have a care in the world. ❞ ❝ stay focused on the hunt, and it’ll help keep the pain at bay. ❞ ❝ you are just so spontaneous, and i’ve a liking for that sort of thing! ❞ ❝ no one gets out of here, whether dead or alive. ❞ ❝ what is it that you’re after, really...? ❞ ❝ don’t take my silence the wrong way, all right? ❞ ❝ that’s terrible...wish there was something i could do to help. ❞ ❝ your unpredictability is one of your assets. ❞ ❝ do not throw away your life as i did mine. ❞ ❝ you do not take all your defeats to heart, do you? that’s good. ❞ ❝ the fates can twist intentions. i don’t want to take the risk. ❞ ❝ sometimes you make me feel alive again. ❞ ❝ why...i was much stronger once, than this... ❞ ❝ sometimes i wish i knew more about your past. ❞ ❝ you shall not goad me into anger with a petty insult such as that. ❞ ❝ we’ve been through a lot, and i think we’ll be going through a lot more yet. ❞ ❝ feelings we shared...they faded, with time. ❞ ❝ learn well to shut that foolish mouth of yours, or i shall shut it for you. ❞ ❝ i knew so many warriors who would throw away their lives for glory, believing that the gods were on their side; refusing to consider that their opponents felt the very same. ❞ ❝ you didn’t need to vent all that inner turmoil onto me throughout my life. ❞ ❝ swear to me that you shall never repeat what you are about to hear. swear it! ❞ ❝ sometimes i wonder what’s going through your head. ❞ ❝ i can do this. i can do this. i can do this. ❞ ❝ i heard you got yourself into another mess that needed cleaning up. ❞ ❝ you have a good heart. keep listening to it. ❞ ❝ you picked sides, and things are not the same. ❞ ❝ all the terrible choices i’ve made. by the time you have existed for as long as i have, pray youo will have made fewer. ❞ ❝ i must admit i have grown fond of you. ❞ ❝ please open your mind to the fact that there are those who care about your wellbeing. ❞ ❝ i know you mean well. from the bottom of my heart, i thank you truly for the thought. ❞ ❝ how can somebody be so brash yet hate to take unnecessary risks? ❞ ❝ i know we can’t exactly change the past, but we can try to move forward. ❞ ❝ you didn’t answer my question. though, you know something? forget i asked. ❞ ❝ just checking in on you, but i’ll be on my way again shortly. ❞ ❝ you would speak to me of foolish mistakes? ❞ ❝ do not question my power. ❞ ❝ there is no point in doing it but pride. and pride is dangerous. ❞ ❝ i must admit, your strength of will is quite inspiring. ❞ ❝ i don’t hate you. i don’t think i can ever hate you. ❞ ❝ i've decided not to kill you. no sport in cornered prey. ❞ ❝ i never thought i’d hear you talking about looking forward to working. you feeling alright? ❞ ❝ it has been far too long. although, the passing of the time was very kind. ❞ ❝ i have been thinking on this for some time, and i’ve a declaration i must make: i shall hear no more of your silver-tongued lies. ❞ ❝ oh good, somebody’s here to save me from myself. ❞ ❝ i wonder how much more insulting you could be. ❞ ❝ may i have this dance for old time’s sake? ❞ ❝ no matter how far you run, it doesn’t make your problems go away. ❞ ❝ i ever tell you you’re a real sweetheart? because, if not, i’m telling you right now. ❞ ❝ oh don’t worry, i’ll be back in fighting shape in no time. ❞ ❝ it’s not that i’m upset or anything. you know i’m not, but truthfully i’m a bit annoyed. ❞ ❝ you’ve got quite the fighting spirit in there, i have to say. ❞ ❝ ...answer me something. what am i to you, exactly, as of late? ❞ ❝ if you’ve not anger enough for it yet, you’ll learn, i promise you. ❞ ❝ i shall bring desolation upon those who wrong you. ❞ ❝ you know nothing of tempers if mine is your frame of reference. ❞ ❝ let me save you lots of future suffering: i happen to be the jealous type. ❞ ❝ i was really hoping we could change the subject. please? ❞ ❝ finally you cleared the mess you caused. ❞ ❝ i never grew accustomed to the air, up here. it gusts senselessly whichever way it pleases. ❞ ❝ i need your help with something. as i’m about to risk it all. ❞ ❝ love tends to blossom in the strangest places at the strangest times. ❞ ❝ normally they grovel, then they scream. they shut up eventually, but not you. at least, not yet. ❞ ❝ you know, you ain’t near as bad as i’d heard! ❞ ❝ so now you know. but, only half the truth. ❞ ❝ you are and always will be an insufferable brat. ❞ ❝ they say both gods and mortals are notoriously poor at estimating how long it takes to get anything done. ❞ ❝ flattery never got me anywhere with you to begin with. doesn’t mean i won’t keep trying. ❞ ❝ i’m warning you, i’m not susceptible to bribes. many have tried. ❞ ❝ by my estimation, you have slain at least a thousand souls. ❞ ❝ everyone’s saying i went easy on you. ❞ ❝ no, on quite the contrary i’ve been under no impression that avoiding conflict is an option here. ❞ ❝ you really won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ fears, i think, are born of ignorance. ❞ ❝ i don’t exactly know the ways of mortals. ❞ ❝ it’s not just you swept up in all this nonsense now. you didn’t ask for me to get involved but what did you expect? ❞ ❝ if only i had wisdom such as yours, so that i was more capable of picking up on subtle jabs and insults such as that. ❞ ❝ did i detect some hesitance on your part just then? perhaps you knew that you were making a mistake. ❞ ❝ i need you in my life! how can you just...turn me away like this? ❞ ❝ no. no mournful speeches. now get out of my way. ❞ ❝ you needn’t lavish me with your faint praise. ❞ ❝ our memories are warnings. when you have lived as long as i have, you come to understand your weaknesses. ❞ ❝ you speak none of this, to anyone! ❞ ❝ it seems to me your strength outweighs your smarts ❞ ❝ you’re really too much for me sometimes, you know that? ❞ ❝ you speak as one who’s not experienced war. ❞      ❝ you’re looking kind of down. normally you’re all smiles, for whatever reason. ❞ ❝ your heart shall never carry you astray. ❞ ❝ it almost sounds as though you’ve broken up with me. ❞ ❝ come now, i don’t think that’s anything to be concerned about. ❞ ❝ where did you steal that kingly blade you’re brandishing about? it seems ill-fitting for one such as you. ❞ ❝ you overstep your bounds with me. but i shall make you fall right back in line. ❞ ❝ if there’s one thing i’ve learned since we met, it’s that the trust we share is at the very foundation of our relationships. ❞ ❝ it is woefully infrequent that i’ve cause for this, but i do have to thank you. ❞ ❝ so you’re realizing now that your entire image of me came from your imagination, is that it? ❞ ❝ sorry, my lips are sealed. how about we change the subject? ❞ ❝ you mistook me for someone who blindly follows orders without considering the implications. ❞ ❝ you, in a healthy relationship? why yes, that i have to see. ❞ ❝ you won’t tell me anything about you? you’re just going to leave me to speculate, forever? ❞ ❝ oh, would you look at whom i found, all by their lonely self. ❞ ❝ sometimes our tempers get the best of all of us. you’re fortunate mine didn’t get the best of you back there. ❞ ❝ you really need to learn to stop meddling in others’ affairs. ❞ ❝ was just thinking about you. ❞ ❝ the mortal concept of what constitutes as a hero is absurd. ❞ ❝ i may not be the one to kill you. but i’ll soften you up for whoever does. ❞ ❝ i have been waiting for a special moment to confess my great appreciation for your deeds. this moment’s special enough, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ all mortal life is fragile; it simply is a struggle to survive. ❞ ❝ it wasn’t any of my business to pry into your personal life. i should have asked. ❞ ❝ what do you say we deal some death together? ❞ ❝ the more you step away from your responsibilites, the less you shall want anything to do with them. ❞ ❝ what we were once, i wonder if it’s but a falsely ringing memory of mine... ❞ ❝ in all your boundless intellect, i’d have expected you would know i see through your intentions, plan as day. ❞ ❝ ii shall not lie to you again. that much, i swear. ❞ ❝ oh, i don’t have the heart to keep exacting vengeance on you. ❞ ❝ privileges are earned, not begged for. ❞ ❝ i thought we had an understanding. but, this wouldn’t be the first time i was wrong about someone. ❞ ❝ i have every confidence you’ll someday clamber from the shadows into the light. ❞ ❝ no paradise awaits you. ❞ ❝ did you miss me? i thought i’d steal away a bit and that together we might make up for lost time. ❞ ❝ when blood is spilled and death is dealt, i simply cannot remain discontented for too long. ❞ ❝ unlike my present company, i do not ask too many questions. ❞ ❝ what’s life without a little pain. ❞ ❝ i would do anything that you would ask of me. ❞ ❝ such a waste, all for your foolish pride, that you should care more to be remembered by those you shall never know than to be loved... ❞ ❝ look, if you don’t feel the same way about me at this point, i would rather know. ❞ ❝ you chose to die in glory, not to live in peace...and all for what? ❞ ❝ what’s the matter there? gone awful quiet. did i hurt your feelings? ❞ ❝ please, if not for your sake, then for mine...do not return. ❞ ❝ you blame your ancestors for your own weakness? ❞ ❝ i still grow frustrated with myself quite often and don’t always know whom to turn to. ❞ ❝ i’ll just remain here, comfortably at rest, for some untold millenia. ❞ ❝ the world has a limitless capacity for pain. ❞ ❝ well, if you do require some emotional support, know that i likely shall be standing over here. ❞ ❝ you’re not fooling anybody with your feigned benevolence, you know. ❞ ❝ i'm just an old killer, yet you treat me like i’m the one who’s royalty around here. ❞ ❝ life and death are inextricable, and war is often what connects the two. ❞ ❝ someday or night you shall look back on this, and thank me. ❞ ❝ i can no longer tolerate my life here in this place. ❞ ❝ they said you were headed this way. i said i’d stop you. ❞ ❝ if you were being too pushy, you better believe i would have put you back in your place, royalty or not. ❞ ❝ i am leaving, even if it kills me. ❞ ❝ hey, can’t ever be too careful when it comes to people’s past and feelings and stuff, right? ❞ ❝ should you ever go to war...do look me up. i imagine i would take your side. ❞ ❝ have you given any thought to just...leaving me alone, and going back to wherever it is you came from? ❞ ❝ and here i was beginning to think we had something special going. ❞ ❝ i’m worried you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing yourself past your limits. ❞ ❝ whoever it was you used to be, i believe you’ve changed. ❞ ❝ i’m no mere mortal. ❞ ❝ i suppose this must be what it’s like to be a god. being shown affection such as this. ❞ ❝ admittedly i was quite good at it, but i was nothing other than a killer. ❞ ❝ no need to get emotional, is there? i’m not the sentimental type. ❞ ❝ all that pent-up rage behind your smiling words... ❞ ❝ don’t ever fall for mortals. use them if you must, but do not waste your love on those who waste away. ❞ ❝ i was never terribly fearful of gods. they seem to have their struggles much like mortals do. ❞ ❝ i would ask you to think of your well-being for the time, not mine. ❞ ❝ must say you’re very good at hiding your worries. ❞  ❝ anger fades. anger burns hot, then burns out. what’s left is a dull ache. ❞ ❝ you have much to be proud of. you’re a great warrior. a great instructor. a great friend. ❞ ❝ you must know the seven types of love by now, don’t you? why, i have several types of love for you! ❞ ❝ sometimes i fear i shall develop some sort of grudging respect for you. ❞   ❝ as you grow long in years, you gain more burdens and responsibilities, until they bind you. ❞ ❝ you’re being very nice to me, and that makes me suspicious, understand? ❞ ❝ you like me? i never thought, i...don’t know why that sounds so strange, coming from you. ❞ ❝ just know that...if you feel the way i do...you know where to find me. ❞ ❝ i still have feelings for you, i think. ❞ ❝ you’re a god. i’m telling you to learn to act like one. ❞ ❝ we were invincible together, weren’t we? though, i have never missed those days... ❞ ❝ i like being on my own and all, but it’s been nice, talking to you like this. ❞ ❝ you’ve done more for me than i’ve any right to expect, from anyone. ❞ ❝ the heart can make us do the strangest things, can’t it? ❞ ❝ i would never have been remotely prepared for everything i’ve had to face, if not for all your guidance. and i don’t just mean the violent stuff. ❞ ❝ you’re not so bad, you know that? careful with that, or you’ll undermine the ruthless reputation you have. ❞ ❝ well, for all his failings, i’m thankful that he did not teach you how to hate. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that i hate anybody, really. ❞ ❝ why am i never proud of you? don’t take it personally. i’m never proud of anything. ❞ ❝ there are a myriad of tales to be told, of both great deeds and of vainglorious defeats, and this has been a tale that falls somewhere in the middle. ❞ ❝ why your path keeps on crossing mine, i’ve not the slightest clue. ❞ ❝ there is no replacing your presence. i felt that before we ever met, and now i know for sure. ❞ ❝ mortals are so bent on clinging to their lives, that many among them would gladly kill for it. ❞ ❝ listen to me. i don’t know how else to put this, but, i want you to come home. ❞ ❝ i think we understand something of loss, now, don’t we? ❞ ❝ hey, look, i can tell you’re struggling right now... ❞ ❝ you must know i often hunger for destruction, almost uncontrollably at that. ❞ ❝ you still have no idea how to be up front with me, do you. why don’t you tell me why you’re here, and what you want. ❞ ❝ the destruction you have sown, the sheer carnage...nothing can surpass that. ❞ ❝ i do not think i ever would have asked for help, at any point, because...i don’t entirely know how. ❞ ❝ but hope alone is worthless without action, is it not? ❞ ❝ as bloodshed has become somewhat of a necessity in my situation, i am very grateful that you’re with me in this. ❞ ❝ many mortals strive for greatness all their lives, never quite realizing there is no existing formula for it. not even a specific definition for it. ❞     ❝ there are aspects of my country that i miss, from time to time. the stark, bright beauty of that strange, wondrous land. ❞     ❝ pride is perhaps our family’s worst trait. ❞ ❝ i think for many of us, it can come as a surprise to learn that love and war often go hand in hand. ❞ ❝ you don’t have what it takes. ❞ ❝ had a feeling i would find you all alone out here. ❞ ❝ quit messing with my heart. ❞ ❝ swear something to me. that you’ll discard your fears about our bond. ❞ ❝ each time we fight...i think i learn a little more. ❞ ❝ you’re nothing to me anymore. ❞ ❝ say, you must know a lot of big shots, don’t you? other gods and all that? ❞ ❝ i trust, from time to time, you stop to ask yourself how come you choose to fight. ❞ ❝ you cannot change the course that has been set. try all you like. ❞      ❝ we don’t all share the same demeanor, nor see eye to eye. though all of us, i think, wish you the best. ❞ ❝ i’ve known great men throughout my life, and i can always tell when someone’s better than their circumstances. ❞ ❝ i am quite capable of making your life plenty difficult. ❞ ❝ i bet whoever it is that loves you...it’s because of who you are. ❞ ❝ i lay the blame entirely upon you, yes. who else? ❞ ❝ i think, deep down, you are not the heartless harbinger of retribution that you want everyone to think you are. ❞     ❝ in my domain, you either find your place, or you learn your place. ❞ ❝ you have no idea how good you’ve had it here. maybe someday you’ll come to understand. ❞ ❝ do not mess with me right now. ❞

[shutupaboutandraste]

“  you  keep  using  that  word.  i  do  not  think  it  means  what  you  think  it  means.  ” for Adaar x Dorian? Welcome!

Excellent choice let’s goooo! I mention another Adaar Inquisitor in this little drabble and that’s because my Inquisitor is brother to my friends’ Inquisitor so I usually try to include them both ^u^

Words: 1565

Pairing: Dorian/Inquisitor Adaar

For @dadrunkwriting​ 

Tramping around Ferelden was hardly Asaara Adaar’s favorite activity. In fact, he would consider it one of his least favorite. The entire country seemed to be made of mud and mountains with nary a plain or decent stretch of flatland to be found. Weather in the Free Marches was far more predictable, more comfortable, far better than anything Ferelden had to offer. Yet, his distaste didn’t have anything on Dorian’s. ​

“Inconceivable!” Dorian hissed, for probably the fifth time since they had started their trek through the Hinterlands. Asaara rubbed his palm around The Mark, reminding himself that at least Dorian was easy to look at.  

Varric laughed, “Sparkler, believe you me, it’s conceivable.” 

“The King of Ferelden can’t be chosen by single combat,” argued Dorian, “That’s horrible politics. Hilarious, but horrible.” 

“It’s how they do it here, I swear!” promised the rogue, adjusting Bianca over his shoulder with a winning smile, “Hell, I think Hawke would have preferred that too. Not that they ever got the chance to become Viscount.” 

“Didn’t they kind of prove that by beating the Arishok?” asked Asaara, turning his head slightly to ask. It was always a way to check if their last companion was still around. Or, at least, if it was visible. When his teeth grit at noticing the very obvious lack of Cole, the spirit hybrid appeared at the side of his eye. Good. He was getting better at reminding them that he was there. 

Another deep rumble came from Varric, “I guess you’re right!” 

Dorian scoffed, but said nothing. Clearly, the ways of the South were too much for his delicate sensibilities. Asaara didn’t mind it--his mind wandered to his elder brother Arug, who would have reveled in such simplicity. In another life, the two might have been Arvaraad and Sarebaas, but Asaara liked to think their own style of mage and protector worked out just fine. Fine enough that Arug had felt comfortable staying back at Skyhold at any rate. 

Besides, it was hard to actually talk to Dorian when Arug hovered. Magic unsettled Arug on a good day, but Dorian seemed to do so in particular. And, whether Asaara liked to admit it or not there was something undeniably charming about the Tevinter altus. (Not magister, he had to remind himself, just the son of one.) 

To be fair, it could be hard to talk to Dorian in general. The man was proud, charismatic, and bold like a pristine sunset that reflected itself back in a lake. He talked quickly, usually in circles around other people, but not Asaara. He could hang on every word like gospel. It had begun with inquiries into the time magic that Dorian had studied. Devouring the information had been thrilling, but Asaara came out with plenty of notions. Notions such as the obvious understanding within Dorian’s eyes, but that his speech could twist the truth to get even the best to believe in his work. Or, perhaps, more worryingly, that Dorian’s eyes sparkled when he was excited. That his smile made Asaara’s heart twist ever so slightly. Asaara was rarely tongue-tied, but he had to focus on his words more when Dorian was around.

Still, it didn’t mean Asaara had endless patience. Dorian could be a vain, proud braggart who thought that he was the Maker’s gift to magic. Once one knew him better, that shed slightly, but he could still be pretentious. And, Asaara reminded himself constantly, Dorian was still of Tevinter while Asaara was a Vashoth Qunari. 

 The conversation moved, Cole whispering to himself. Asaara was glad of it-- Cole was muttering his thoughts again. His fingers gently tapped Cole’s wrist which got the other to stop, apologizing quietly. There were many people Asaara found easy to be angry at, but Cole wasn’t one of them. Where he could argue with Vivienne until they were both blue in the face or ignore Cassandra until she looked ready to hit him, Cole was just trying to help. Not berate him with opinions or Chantry nonsense. That didn’t always make what Cole had to say easy to hear. 

So, when Dorian exclaimed, “Inconceivable!” again over something very conceivable-- something about Ferelden fashion and shield maidens-- it was Cole who said Asaara’s thoughts out. 

“You keep using that word,” hummed Cole, “I do not think it means what you think it means.” 

“...Pardon me, Cole?” 

“The word,” Cole continued, “Not believable. It blocks the idea of possibility. An unending wall for the dream of something strange. You use it for things that have already happened that you simply don’t understand. But Adaar understands the difference.” 

“...So are these thoughts your’s or his?” asked Dorian, directing the question toward Cole but looking at Asaara. He grimaced. 

“They were his…” admitted Cole, “But I began to wonder, too.” 

Asaara shrugged, trying to offer Dorian a charismatic smirk, “He’s not wrong. You aren’t using that word correctly.” 

“Yes, I am. Varric--” Dorian’s face dropped as Varric gave him a sheepish smile. He huffed, “Alright then, I’ve been made a fool of. Let’s move along through this horrendously massive forest before a bear decides to go after The Inquisitor again.” 

His face twisted into a mockery of a pout. After knowing Dorian for some time now, it was easy to pick out expressions. This one was embarrassed, his eyes darting toward the trees to avoid looking at any of them, but with his chest puffed out like a peacock. Perhaps, Dorian was too easy to look at. Most people couldn’t watch someone as if they were an exotic animal, learn their habits, learn which lines of their face crinkled certain ways to show their feelings.

Two mages and two rogues were also probably not the best equipped to fight Ferelden wildlife, which made Dorian very right in that regard. Asaara admitted that after a long morning-- Cassandra bleating at him, Iron Bull’s hearty laughter starting to grate his ears mixed with Blackwall's preference for traveling with Sera who was her own jar of bees-- he had probably made a mistake in a hasty party. Not that he minded. Each of the three were the most pleasant of his company. Still, he didn’t want to have to fight more bears. 

They pressed on, hoping to reach one of the camps before nightfall while they looked for herbs for the healers. Once that was all collected and the farms checked on, they could be on their way. Still, a gentle silence hung over them. Fennecs raced by them as the headed upward through a mountain. What Asaara hadn’t expected was for Dorian to softly break the silence between them while Varric animatedly began discussing something with Cole. 

“You’re quite intelligent, Inquisitor,” he remarked. 

Asaara’s lips twitched as he forced himself not to scowl, “For a qunari, I know.” Bastard. It was always the pretty ones who ended up being bastards. 

“No, I mean.. Yes, but no!” Dorian realized his fumble as he began to search for words, “Kaffas. I mean in general. Most people aren’t as smart as you are.” 

Asaara rolled his eyes, “I think the members of the Inquisition each have a plethora of intelligence.”

“Do not bullshit me, Inquisitor,” huffed Dorian, “It doesn’t become you.” 

Asaara whipped his head to look at him, surprised, “Doesn’t… Then what does become me?” A curl of suggestiveness pulled at the side of his mouth turning into a bit of smugness. 

For a moment, he watched Dorian’s eyes soften. Edges rounded as a smile ticked up softly. Those two perfect lips pursed before a twisted, pleased smile of his own graced Dorian’s face. If the wind felt knocked out of Asaara by that soft sudden change of face, he did not let it show. He had become quite good at that over the years. It came with pretending not to be bothered that everyone thought you were just another stupid Qunari-- or that you were just another violent Vashoth. 

“That smile for one,” said Dorian, “I should like to see it more often. Perhaps over tea in the library once we get back.” 

Had he heard that right? Koslun’s balls, Maker’s ass, Andraste’s shitty mabari, and Fen’harel fucking take him he had. Perhaps his own eyes brightened. Perhaps, he gave a little too much away as his cheeks darkened up, unused to the kind of attention Dorian had just bestowed upon him. Perhaps, it was just enough to keep Dorian interested since his expression didn’t change. Asaara let out a breathy chuckle, keeping his voice even as he nodded at Dorian. 

“I look forward to it,” he said, “So long as you’re not throwing books around in a huff again.” 

Much to his delight, he saw Dorian’s eyes sparkle.

Earlier today, if someone asked him if he thought Dorian would ever look his way, he might have replied ‘Inconceivable’ without hesitation. Now, that prefix has been dropped entirely. Dorian flirting with him was entirely and completely conceivable and right in front of him. And, maybe, just maybe the Hinterlands looked a little more beautiful, a little less muddy. 

He paused, adding, “And, so long as you call me by my name. Inquisitor is so dreadful on the ears after a while.” 

“Asaara, then,” agreed Dorain, giving him a polite nod, “An almost musical name, really. You will have to tell me what it means.”

Inconceivable, indeed.

[dingoat]

[I mulled over a few possible options for this one, heh, but after some chatter with @cinlat I realised I could mush some of my ancient Ahuska backstory with half baked future plans with vague species lore/headcanons and string it along into something roughly story-shaped. The whole thing wound up a lot more somber than I’d anticipated, but at least I can always count on Crow to soften the mood!] ---

For the better part of three weeks, she’d been dwelling. What had started out as the most unexpected news conceivable had led to a flurry of unanswerable questions; was the news welcome? Was she excited? Did she care? Did she want anything to do with it? But that had all rapidly died down into a sullen simmering of nerves, as Ahuska struggled with something she genuinely never thought she’d have to face.

She had a family. She’d been raised well, and loved, as far back as she could properly remember. Did she really want to go back further, did she need to know anything about where she’d come from? The thought of being connected to Bothawui in any way made her feel ill, but Crow had gently reminded her, over and over, that this changed nothing.

She was Mando’ad, where family is built on more than bloodline, and having surviving relatives from a life she couldn’t even recall changed nothing.

Having a twin brother changed nothing.

Except that it clearly meant something to… him. And the older one. Two brothers, with families of their own, who’d reached out to find the sister they’d thought they’d lost with their parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know them, but…

“Crow?” Ahuska tapped his arm with a single hesitant finger, but he’d already turned to seek her out. They were more in tune with one another than ever.

“Mmm?”

“I think I… I want you to meet my family,” she mumbled, eyes slipping to the side.

Crow grinned his softer grin. “Ahhh, I think we’ve already been through that part of the relationship. Was a couple years ago now, at least?”

She felt her ears grow warm, but her eyes turned back to him. “With me, I mean. I want you to come with me to… meet the family I haven’t met yet. I don’t know if I even want to call them that yet, I guess, I doubt they’ll want to either once they’ve met me…”

“Oh, psshh,” Crow made to wave away her worry with a flick of his hand. “You said the whole reason they found out you existed was from holos of the business down at the Ve’lora place, right? Not like they haven’t already got some sort of clue about the life you live, and they still reached out.”

“It already feels so weird, though. They’ve known about me… all their lives. They… knew me, a-and mourned me? They missed me, and I’ve just never known… it’s like they’re strangers, who call me a sister. It’s fethin’ weird.”

“I know, I know. And if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll realise that too. All you gotta do is meet them, say hi to them and their… uh, heh. Hey. What are baby bothans called, anyway?”

“Huh? What, I… I don’t think he told me any of their names, I don’t even know how many kids he said they each had…”

“What? No, I meant like… y’know. Do you call them… uhhh, like how little cathar are kits, and…”

Every one of Ahuska’s nerves abruptly vanished, and the series of blinks followed by a hard stare made Crow immediately realise he’d made one of those mistakes.

“Sorry, sorry, I just figured…”

“Babies,” Ahuska said, her tone completely flat. “Baby bothans are babies. Not cubs, not fawns, not kits…” her snout wrinkled a little at that.

Crow’s manner was meek, but the way he squinted at her made it clear he was still trying to work out where exactly the problem lay. “Okay but… don’t… wouldn’t there be some word you use for them…?”

“What, like ik’aad?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Crow brightened as Ahuska offered the comparison, then immediately ducked his head as her expression grew harder still.

“Like ik’aad. The Mando’a word that literally translates to ‘baby’?”

Crow’s grin wavered, sensing a trap. “Ye-es…?”

“Not likaya? Not pe’ninr?” Ahuska continued to watch Crow carefully as she offered the Mando’a for kitten and puppy.

“Well. No. Of course-”

“Of course not!” Ahuska snapped over the top of him, with an emphatic gesture of both hands to drive her point. “Likaya literally means baby cat. Not baby person. Not baby human, or bothan, or even cathar, it’s the word you use for a little cute wobbly baby animal that meows before it opens its eyes. You wouldn’t call some random Mando kid likaya if we were talking in Mando’a, would you…?”

“I… guess not…” To the unfamiliar, it would look as though Crow were simply still grinning, but Ahuska knew the way it’s quality shifted that he was in fact frowning on the inside.

Ahuska took a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her snout. “And just the same, the bothese for ‘baby cat’ and ‘baby person’ are two totally different words. One translates to kitten, in basic, and the other to baby. Just baby. There’s nothing fancy, nothing cute about it, grown-ass men and women aren’t bucks and does or stallions or vixens, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s a good chunk of cathar out there who hate the way the better part of the galaxy pretends their own native words for their kids translate to ‘baby cat’---!!”

Despite her efforts to calm herself, Ahuska’s pitch and volume had rapidly increased, her gestures had grown more emphatic, and her attitude was positively simmering. Crow didn’t even need to tune into the beat of her heart to know he’d struck a hard nerve, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, lifting his hands in an effort to make it clear he was willing to concede. The crease of his forehead knit a little deeper. “I just would’ve thought, of all people, you might… find it kind of cute, at least? Like the way Nines…”

She shot him a look that made him shut up quick smart, then immediately made a visible effort to cool herself off.

“Let me… try and explain it another way,” she said, speaking slowly, her gaze focused inward. “One time when I was little, nine or ten years or something. I was on a trip with my buire, we had to spend the night in an Imperial settlement. We were checking in to some accommodation, just on the outskirts where it was quiet, and… you know buir’ika was a chadra-fan, right? Well, they had me and her go around to the back somewhere, and wait a while in another building. There was a nerf there, a couple of tauntauns, I think a big old varactyl even... one of the tauns had a fawn so that’s where all my attention was. I thought it was excellent, like, some special treat for me, buir’ika sure acted like it was. Anyway, it was a while later that nuvhu’buir… ah, that’s what I called Jinn, yeah? She came round to where we were with all our stuff, a few extra blankets and things, and we built ourselves a bed right there in the hay and spent the night there. I knew she was mad about something, but she never said why, at least not ever to me. I remember falling asleep hearing her and buir’ika talking really quietly together, and I was wondering why she was so upset. Didn’t make any sense to me at the time, since I thought it was… pretty much the best thing ever. I was too little to get it.”

Crow listened quietly, and when Ahuska paused, he didn’t say a word. He just watched her, offering his full attention, and waited for her to go on.

“They made us sleep in the damned stables. It was years later I looked back and realised that. They probably would’ve let nuvhu’buir stay up in a proper room, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Stables, me and buir’ika, just because of our damn faces. So no. No, I don’t appreciate it when people joke about me going to a vet rather than a doctor, or offer me ‘treats’ for being a ‘good girl’. It’s not cute, it’s gross. And that goes hand in hand with asking if my species have litters, or if our babies are called foals, or if we go into heat. Ugh.” She made an ugly scowl at that. “Rule of thumb? If you wouldn’t ask a Mirialan the same question, it’s probably rude as hell to ask a Bothan. Or, y’know. Literally any other sapient species.”

Flushed, Ahuska found herself glancing off to the side, feeling oddly unburdened to have let it all out, and yet also heavy for having to unload to Crow. She knew he meant nothing by it, that of all the beings in the galaxy his intentions were utterly pure. She’d never forget the way he deflected those stuffy noblewomen on Alderaan that time.

She felt his hand envelope hers. “Did you want me to talk to Nines, and get her to let up a bit on the way she-?”

“Nayc,” Ahuska found the answer came easily, even if she couldn’t quite articulate why. “Not to me, anyway. I want to say it’s different, but it’s probably not, really. I dunno. Just maybe give her a poke if she starts on any other bothans with ‘Puppy’, yeah?” “It used to bother you a lot though, didn’t it?”

Ahuska stared out at nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still sorry.”

His chin came to rest over her head, and she closed her eyes as she let her face rest against the comforting curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry too. Not your fault the galaxy is the way it is. I’m just… a little wound up right now, I think. I’m nervous about this.” “Shhh,” he soothed gently, and she let her face fall against the hand he brought to her cheek. “You don’t need to make an excuse for yourself. I asked you something stupid. Can’t promise I won’t again in the future, but I’ll always be ready to listen to you. Mmkay?” Ahuska found herself nodding against his palm. “‘kay.”

“And I’ll be right there with you, meeting those other relatives of yours. And if they turn out to be bastards? I’ll find a totally not-xenophobic way to give them a piece of my mind.”

She made a little snort, and let her arms wrap around him. “And that’s why I love you.”

[ronsenburg]

i saw this post and IMMEDIATELY started writing an essay, so I moved it here so as not to clutter up someone else’s post...........

it absolutely blows my mind that, today in 2021, i honestly can’t remember what’s canon from the turnabout serenade case, what i read in a fanficition, and what is my own personal HC. like, it’s been more than a decade since i played the case for the first time and it’s probably been 5ish years since the last time i played AJ (definitely forgot to play it again before writing youngblood which is.... contributing to this) so i really don’t know if what goes on in my head is accurate, but, over the years, i’ve come up with a Lot of Thoughts, which i’ll discuss below. 

tldr; it’s all about power (the desire for, the subversion of, the need to maintain), but if you’d like the specifics, here you go:

daryan: i think the explanation that he did it for “the money” is a line. please don’t mistake me, daryan is an asshole and a murderer, im not discounting that, but in court ive always thought that he was playing the part that everyone- especially klavier- is expecting of him. he’s the bad guy. might as well make it a finale for the books.

i’ve always seen daryan and klavier as opposite sides of the same coin when it comes to family and career aspirations. where i imagine klavier came from a well off and well loved family before his parents died, i see daryan from a working class, difficult upbringing. i read a few papers on the psychology of children/parenting style of police officers and decided early on that daryan’s dad was also a cop. his mother is either dead or (more likely) left them early on. dad coped by working a little too hard, gambling/drinking a little too much, and was overall not around a lot and kind of an authoritarian/controller when he was. it left daryan with a lot of anger he had to cope with, about what it means to be a cop, the idea of a “just cause” and the ends justifying the means, and an issue with authority (which is laughable, considering what a bully he turned out to be. sometimes we emulate our parents unintentionally; it’s the only thing we have to model our behavior on). so daryan started off at a disadvantage. klavier started off loved and supported and surrounded by expensive belongings, but the death of his parents and the subsequent emotional and financial abuse by his newly appointed guardian/brother left him in a similar place by the time he and daryan met. i think it was probably the foundation for their bond, and i think it’s why klavier decided to become a prosecutor instead of following in his brother’s footsteps and why daryan ultimately decided to enter law enforcement as well. i think they had a lot of optimistic, idealistic thoughts on being better than the people that hurt them, on utilizing the law to make the world a better place. i don’t think klavier ever conceived that kristoph could have wanted him in the prosecutors office as another pawn to play, and i don’t think he realized how fluid daryan’s morality could be.

shipping alert—you guys know me, im crazy for the idea of a “best friends to on again off again lovers to tenuous coworkers to bitterly disappointed in but still harboring feelings for the other person despite being on opposite sides” dynamic between daryan and klavier. i honestly can’t separate the ship from the case and im sorry about it. if you read youngblood you know that i think daryan started to resent klavier pretty early on, when they were still together, when the band was still successful, because klavier was able to move forward and work through the issues of his past while daryan was seemingly stuck. yes, daryan had made detective and the gavinners were a hit, he’d risen above his initial social standing and thrown off the control his father, he had money and fame and a future. but everything he had was because of klavier. daryan needed klavier, emotionally, morally, financially. but even when klavier was professing his love for daryan, both privately and in the form of chart topping songs, he didn’t need daryan. it was obvious (and of course, healthy, but how do children of abuse learn what a healthy relationship looks like without help? especially when the only relationships you’ve ever had are codependent and, in some ways, just as toxic?) and so things spiraled. daryan got possessive and angry again and klavier got distant and they broke up and got back together and broke up and didn’t get back together but kept ending up back in each other’s arms for comfort and for support and because how the hell do you move on when the person you’ve been in love with since you were 15 is sitting next to you on a tour bus and is also your partner in a homicide case and singing songs he wrote about you on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans?

okay, shipping glasses off, sorry. but no matter how you look at their relationship, daryan’s promotion out of homicide was probably the most distance they’d had from each other in years, as it removed a large chunk of the daily “working relationship” aspect. and without klavier there to act as a moral compass, it was likely easier to slip back into his earlier thoughts about what constitutes justice and his intense hatred of being pushed around by someone who has more power than you. so enter the chief justice with a son who is sick, dying even, but can’t get the medicine he needs because there’s a government out there telling them no. The reasons are arbitrary: the medicine could be used as a poison and can’t be found anywhere else so it might come back to bite the country in the ass if it’s misused by criminals. newsflash: pretty much all medicine is poisonous if it isn’t used correctly, should we stop using penicillin entirely because some people might be allergic to it? they’ve essentially condemned a whole bunch of people to death because they’re worried about their reputation. and that doesn’t sit well with daryan, who is caught up remembering the bullshit justifications his dad would spout when he knocked him around, that kristoph would give when withholding every single penny of money klavier was entitled to until he agreed to do what kristoph wanted. it isn’t right, it isn’t fair and unfair laws shouldn’t have to be upheld, especially when they’re the unfair laws of a country you most definitely did not swear to uphold and protect. it was never about money, though daryan agrees to take it when the chief offers it to him, more for his comfort level than for daryan’s need or desire. it’s about justice and putting a bully in it’s place with a (seemingly) victimless crime that should be so easy given his role in the international division of criminal affairs and klavier’s sudden hard on for the country of borginia. seriously, how could this have been any more straightforward? daryan is capable of murder, though. all cops are. and if it came down to a “them or me” shootout, of course he’d pull the trigger. 

machi: when you come from nothing, the desire to have something of your own is overwhelming. the idea that machi is famous and financially set is disingenuous; he is not individually famous, he is Lamiroir’s “blind” pianist. yes, she views him as a son and seems to care deeply for him, but his main purpose in her life is to perpetuate a lie. machi has been abandoned before; what will happen to him if lamiroir suddenly remembers who she was in the past? what if she has a family and a true son of her own and has no use for him? what if their secret is found out and the public rejects him for his role in it? he is 14. what does he know about being provided for? about contracts and trust funds and royalties? he ended up in an orphanage originally because he was unwanted, and that led to a life of poverty and hardship. abandonment issues are rooted in fear and are rarely logical. i find it far easier to believe that machi did it for the money, but more for the power money might have given him towards independence in an unfeeling and capitalist world.

kristoph: i won’t get into this, because this is supposed to be about daryan and machi and the guitar’s serenade, and kristoph is not really involved in that at all. but i think everything that kristoph has ever done in the game, good or bad, is rooted in a pathological need to constantly be in control. i think that kristoph and klavier both have very intense personalities that they have sought to control over the course of their lives for the sake of their careers. kristoph believes that to be a good lawyer, you need to play your cards close to your chest, that to show your hand is to expose a weakness that the enemy can exploit, that to show no weaknesses at all places you in a position of power. klavier believes that to show his true self, to display his weaknesses and fears to the public, would result only in their rejection. as such, they both wear masks of their own creation even under the most intense of pressures: kristoph as pleasant and calm, klavier as magnetic and dynamic. note the primary difference in their rational? klavier wants to be wanted, while kristoph wants power. and power corrupts, after all. once you have it, what could be more overwhelming than the idea that you might lose it all? it can drive even the most rational people to commit acts of passionate irrationality in the name of holding on to that power. and kristoph has so many pieces involved in his strategy to maintain.  

[et-lesailes]

missing linc // chapter five

series masterlist

pairing: ceo!dad!steve x reader

word count: 1730

chapter summary: reader is shocked when steve and tiana show up to the daycare together, seeming more like a couple than they ever have before.

taglist:  @viarogers , @evanstush , @chibi-crazy , @cevanswh0re , @songforhema, @sebabestianstan101 ,  @bval-1, @wonderwinchester , @little-miss-exo, @poerebel , @gogomez-509 , @patzammit, @a-distantdreamer, @jbug491writinghelp, @quaideraid, @lille-kattunge,  @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @firstangeldragonranch, @peach-acid, @allsortsofinterests, @xoxabs88xox, @honeyloverogers, @capsiclesdoll, @qrndevans, @mcueveryday,  @bangtan-serendipity, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyiamthatbitch, @captainscanadian, @kaithezaftig, @morganhoran1671, @booktease21, @hista-girl, @steeeeverogers, @okilover02,  @sadella-adams, @rumoured-whispers, @aletteredaffair, @shannon124, @isawritesstories, @knuffeltuff, @wxntersoldiers, @kelbabyblue, @macgruberrr, @troublermalik,  @societalfailure, @brastrangled, @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall, @anxiousstark, @captainsbxbygirl, @barbar126

notes: would love to hear you guys’ feedback from this chapter heheh.............

You could not be more excited as you sat on the rug of the toddler classroom with Linc, waiting for Steve to come pick up. The boy was happily stacking some of the big, soft blocks on top of each other to form a tower, abruptly knocking it over with a swift movement of his hand while maniacally laughing, then starting all over again. Your heart felt full from watching him and from knowing that you and Steve were about to set up your first date. Well, perhaps it was a little more casual than a date, but you still preferred to call it that considering he had confessed his own feelings for you, too. 

However, when he and Tiana walked into the room together holding hands, your mouth almost dropped open.

“Hello, Y/N!” Tiana chirped, sounding much more energized and bright than usual. You cleared your throat, standing up as Linc jumped to his feet as well, toddling to his parents. “Hi, Tiana. Steve.” You gave him a subtle quizzical glance but to your surprise and dismay, he was avoiding eye contact with you. You felt crushed. What had happened during the short time since you spoke to him on the phone?

“Hi there, my cutie pie!” Tiana leaned over to scoop Linc up into her arms, standing close to Steve as she lifted the baby up towards him. “Wanna give Daddy a kiss?” Linc gladly obliged, puckering his lips and letting out a “mwah” sound towards his father’s cheek, a giggle escaping his throat. You saw Steve smile at that, but you could tell he felt uncomfortable. “Hey, tiger. I missed you today,” he spoke gently, leaning over to kiss the little blond’s head. You watched as Tiana casually held onto Steve’s arm with her free hand, a smile on her face as she looked at you. “Oh, Y/N, we wanted to ask you if you were available this upcoming weekend. Steve rented a cabin in the mountains for us, and we’d love if you’d be able to look after Linc while we’re gone?” She squeezed her husband’s arm with a loving expression as she gazed up at him, continuing, “We figured we’d take advantage of the one week he doesn’t have to travel for work!” Steve nodded with a slight smile, though remained silent.

Now you were beyond shocked. What the hell had happened here? Was David not a part of the story anymore? You were quiet for a bit too long, but quickly spoke up upon realizing this. “Uh, yeah, I’m free this weekend. I can come stay with Linc and watch the house for you guys.” Why were you agreeing to this? Part of you thought you were absolutely insane, but honestly, you were doing it for Linc. No matter what happened between you and his parents, you loved that boy, and so you would happily take care of him when needed. “Great! That is so nice of you, thank you so much.” Tiana smiled, and you noticed her nudge Steve. The businessman cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his suit. “Yes. Thank you, Y/N.” He sounded practically robotic, but Tiana was still full of smiles. “We’ll see you tomorrow! Thanks again!”

You watched as the two turned around and exited the room, their beautiful toddler bouncing and laughing in Tiana’s arms, your heart practically breaking hearing the echo of their footsteps gradually become more faint. That was supposed to be you walking out with Steve and Linc. 

Dejected, you started to gather your things, waiting until you heard the front door of the building open and close before exiting your room yourself.

“You took that way too far.” Steve looked to Tiana with a slight frown as he put Linc into his carseat. “You’re acting like we’re getting back together. Like we’re fixing this relationship. You know that’s not what this is about.”

“No one was stopping you from saying anything,” she replied casually, shrugging her shoulders. Steve rolled his eyes, buckling Linc in and leaning forward to kiss his forehead before closing the car door. “You were trying to rub it in. You wanted her jealous. And I’m going to explain everything to her in private, especially about this weekend trip. But talking to her in front of you and your lies is a waste of time.” Tiana blinked, suddenly looking hurt as she turned around to open the passenger door. 

Noticing this, the CEO sighed as he went to open the driver’s side and getting in. He was stressed. He needed to explain to you as soon as possible that nothing about that scene was what it seemed like; for God’s sake, he wished he had just told you everything the night before, but he hadn’t thought it necessary-- he hadn’t even known Tiana would suddenly bombard him with insisting she come pick up Linc with him. He ran his hand through his blond hair in frustration but forced himself to stay composed.

“Let’s just make the best of this weekend, Ti. One last weekend and it’s over.” 

FLASHBACK: LAST NIGHT

“No. No, absolutely fucking not. Are you-- God, I cannot believe you, Steve, are you fucking serious?!”

Steve was shocked. He blinked a few times, wondering if she was suddenly going to laugh and tell him she was just kidding. When she did not, he stared at her incredulously. “I’m sorry-- so you’re allowed to have a boyfriend, and I can’t take a girl out to eat?” 

“She can’t know about our situation, Steve! That’s the whole reason we’re even still here and in this marriage, we have to make sure people don’t-”

“No, Tiana, you have to make sure people don’t find out. You’re the one who’s so fucking obsessed with covering every single flaw and blemish of this goddamn relationship. I’m trying to take accountability here, I’m trying to make up for what I-”

“You can never make up for what you did, Steve!” Tiana raised her voice, cutting him off with hurt in her angry eyes. “You’re going to have to live with what you did for the rest of your fucking life, and there’s no fucking getting out of it! You tore my damn heart out, Steve! Do you realize that?! You’re not just allowed to do things for me, to let me have my relationship and live in this house, and act like it’s making up for your mistake because it’s not!”

“Alright. Alright, fine.” Steve said with a heavy breath, fists clenched, jaw clenched. “You’re right. But does that mean I’m never allowed to find anyone else again? How is that fair?”

“I don’t want her to know, Steve.”

“She already does know, Tiana. She saw you. She deserves a full explanation.” 

She looked livid now. “Why does she deserve that, Steve? Do you even fully care about her? You just fucking met her, Steve, let’s be real-- this is all about your fucking cradle robbing kink, isn’t it?” Steve’s jaw dropped. “My what?” Tiana rolled her eyes, clearly not fazed by his reaction. “Don’t act like I have to explain. You clearly have a thing for the barely legal ones, don’t you? Is that why you don’t love me anymore? Am I too fucking old for you, Steve?” 

“First, can you stop making me sound like some type of pedophile? Second, it’s not about age with Y/N, Tiana. It’s about connection. Yes, once upon a time me and you had that. But you can’t fucking act like I’m the only one who fell out of love here. Even before Linc came along, there was no hope for either of us and you know that.” 

“And that’s why I tried so hard!” she blurted out, tears running down her face. “I tried to be the best mother I could be for him, the best wife, I was trying, Steve! Even after everything you did! You’re the one who just gave up!” 

He barely bit on his lower lip, feeling both frustrated and guilty at the same time. A combination that had been haunting him ever since the day Linc was conceived. He had to admit, she had him there. He did just give up. When he had felt the loss of connection and intimacy with Tiana, not only had he simply let it be without fighting for it, but crushed her entire heart and being on top of that. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tiana, I don’t know how many times I can tell you that. But I don’t understand why you still want me after everything we’ve gone through. When you’re in a relationship with another man. I’ve told you I’ll give you however much money you want in the divorce, I’ll even let you have this house.” He stepped closer to her, looking down at her intensely yet helplessly at the same time. “Why can’t you just let all of this go? Why can’t you let both of us move on? Think of Linc… do you really want him growing up in a household like this?”

She was still sniffing, but seemed a little softer. Was he getting to her? Was she finally seeing his point, after nearly two years? 

“Do you really think she’ll want you after she finds out what you did?”

Steve blinked and barely bit his lip. “Well that’s why I need to explain everything. I-- yes, there’s a chance she may hate my guts and will never want to see me again. But I can’t hide everything from her anymore, and I don’t care if that means exposing myself in the process.” 

“Can’t you give me one more chance, Steve?” she suddenly asked, and he had never heard her sound so heartbroken before. “Just-- please, or if anything… one last weekend together. Just the two of us.”

“You keep looking for something that isn’t there, Ti…” he muttered, but he couldn’t help but want to give in. One weekend. One weekend to end this thirteen year relationship on a good note, even though it could be argued that it had really ended almost two years ago. 

“Fine. One last weekend. And then you move on from this. We get a divorce.”

She was quiet for a while and he could tell she was beginning to tear up, though she finally whispered, “And Linc?”

“I take him. You can come visit him whenever you want, he can stay with you on weekends. I’ll ask to work from home instead of having to travel every week.” 

He saw her stiffen, her teeth pulling at her lower lip. He felt bad, but knew that even she knew it was technically fair. 

“I love him like my own son, Steve.” She whispered softly, her voice barely cracking.

“I know. I know, Ti. He is your son. He might as well be.” 

[honestynhedonismthings]

Hell and Back

I’d already been through the wringer. I suffered from a case of sepsis which I found out later was caused by a cut I’d received while having my new mirena inserted. I was getting a new mirena inserted after earlier in the year falling pregnant with a unviable embryo, meaning it wasn’t implanted in my uterus. I miscarried that pregnancy, it was never viable to begin with but it hurt just as much to lose it. It was later discovered I’d fallen pregnant because the mirena I’d had in at the time was dislodged and actually broken, hence getting it replaced when I found out. The most shocking thing wasn’t even the mirena saga, it’s the fact that after my ectopic pregnancy, I’d spent a lot of time and money on doctors who all told me that it was very unlikely I would ever conceive naturally. The sepsis was caught early because being a medical student, I know to keep my own records, and was able to help my doctors retrace my steps and figure out how what could be causing me to be so sick as it was an unusual type of sick for me. I’ve been through a lot in my life, I know my body and I know when something isn’t right. Fast forward to post recovery and you’re being helpful and nice and its familiar and we fell into old patters and slept together.. more than once.. A mistake really but when emotions are running high, sometimes you lose control. It stops anyway, we stop talking. I’m doing well, I’m being a teenager for the first time in my life and everything is sorta normal. I missed my period. I never miss my period. I took 12 pregnancy tests and threw out my pack of smokes after taking the first one. I was pregnant. Scared shitless and pregnant. You’re the only person I’ve had unprotected sex with. I couldn’t believe it. After the miscarriage, I double checked with the doctors again and they still said I’d never have a viable pregnancy and here I was, pregnant, with my ex boyfriend’s child when we’re both finally moving on. I spent that night at the hospital. Shortly after finding out I was pregnant I began to have pains in my stomach, I assumed it was anxiety and ignored it for a few hours until the pain got worse and I feared this pregnancy was ectopic as the pain was so similar to that of an ectopic pregnancy and having already had surgery for that when I was 16, I wasn’t ready to do that again. After a few hours and tests at the hospital, I was free to go home and Chad bought me dinner and I cried. I instantly knew you wouldn’t believe me. You were always in denial about things that were right in front of you. The biggest being that we weren’t good together, the second being that Chad and I are the same person basically. You were stalking my private Tumblr blog, as you were known to do. That’s how you found out I was pregnant. I’d written a journal entry about the whole thing and you messaged me accusing me of lying and came to my house to confront me. I had evidence waiting though, I knew you. Everything I said had to come with evidence when we were together so I knew I had to be especially prepared this time. You’d already accused me of lying in the previous unviable pregnancy; even after I took a pregnancy test with you right there, even after you followed me to the pregnancy advisory centre and accused me of not having an appointment, records confirm I did. You came to my house and I gave you my ultrasounds, the 12 pregnancy tests, the discharge letter from the hospital and a pregnancy record book signed and dated from my GP, you still thought it was bullshit. I was devastated and done with the conversation. I was strong. Until I got sick. I had hyperemesis which is morning sickness on steroids and I’d had it the entire time I was pregnant. For 8 weeks I couldn’t drink or eat. Every day I would try and take a prenatal vitamin because I hadn’t decided and I wanted to do but I wanted to do what was right until I had, but every single day it would come back up and I would cry at my own body hating me. My own body had been against me from the very beginning and it killed me. During those weeks you would ask me to come with you to McDonalds and you would sit there and tell me it’s over with her and you want to be with me but we can’t have a child right now. You sat there and told me you loved me and we would be together and have a family the right way but I had to get a termination now.  I tried so hard to be strong but I always ended up in tears which made me that much more tired. I could barely stay upright as it was. I was so nauseous, every day I thought I’d pass out trying to get to the bathroom. Chad used to come home during his lunch breaks to find me laying feotal position crying in exhaustion because the nausea meant I never slept, anger for you trying to manipulating me, hunger, sadness, but probably worst of all was the the all consuming love I felt for the baby inside me. I’d been told it wasn’t possible. All I’d ever wanted was to be a mum and there were so many obstacles in the way but there she was, innocent in all of this. Perfect. But you didn’t care. She was your obstacle, she was an inconvenience to you and that made you determined to get what you wanted. I most likely would have come to that decision anyway because right now I can’t imagine having a family with anyone else except for Chad, he’s my soul mate. The problem I have is that the decision wasn’t mine. It was a manipulation. I can’t come to terms with what happened because I know I didn’t make that decision for myself. I respect her memory every single day and every single decision I’ve made since has been so one day I’ll be ready for her. That day you took me to the pregnancy advisory centre, I couldn’t fight anymore, I’d given in to your manipulation. I was so tired and sore and hurt, I needed you to take care of me, you’d been in my life for so long and I momentarily forgot everything else, in that moment I just needed you to make it okay. It was only supposed to be an initial consultation. I’d been there before, I knew the drill. I knew in the back of my head I still had a little time for a sign from the universe, something that would tell me it’s okay and I’d be at peace with it because it would have been my decision. But they had a cancelation and of course I’d already been fasting, I hadn’t eaten for weeks. It was happening too fast and you were right there looking so happy that there was no way out. I couldn’t tell you no and that I needed more time. We both know how that would have gone down. All of a sudden there’s a nurse putting an IV in my arm and I’m crying asking for you but you’re not there. I’m all alone. And before I know it, she’s taken from me. Sucked from me with a medical vacuum cleaner like she’s nothing but she was my everything. And I’m awake and I’m still crying for you, I’m yelling at nurses to get you but it’s like they can’t hear me, begging them to bring you here, trying to get up and not being able to feel my legs. Watching people walk past me like nothing happened and I have nothing to be upset about because I came here, you didn’t put a gun to my head. It was a different type of gun and it was pointing at my heart and when she was taken from me I had nothing. Eventually someone brought me out to see you and I can’t believe what I’ve done. I’m crying and you told me you loved me, I didn’t know it would be for the last time. I had no idea just how alone I really was. She was gone, and the next day so were you.

And it’s really only because of Chad that I’ve come out on the other side better than ever. Instead of putting the pieces back together for me, he gave me the time and understanding I needed to put myself back together in a new way and become a better person. Have I made mistakes, fuck yes, but who hasn’t. I can’t regret a single second of it because it’s all what got me to now and I’m the best version of myself right now. I never thought I’d actually make it to 21 and here I am and I actually want to be here. For me.

[mermaidsirennikita]

movie sex: valid or not valid?

Because I have nothing better to do and am the resident movie sexpert, I’m going to rate every single sex scene in this Buzzfeed List of Supposedly Hot Movie Sex Scenes based on its validity (which probably isn’t much).

1. Queen and Slim.  Off to a shameful start in that well I have not seen this, however as Jodie Turner-Smith is involved I’m gonna preemptively say it’s valid.

2. Swimfan.  I have not seen this either but the guy is ugly.  I only tolerate so many people I don’t find attractive.  Not valid.

3. Titanic, the scene where Jack lost his virginity.  EXTREMELY VALID.  The sex steam!  “You’re trembling”!  The way he had no idea what her plan was until she made him grab her tit!

4. Chloe, the scene with Julianne Moore and Amanda Seyfried having mommy issues sex.  I would say valid, but in fact this movie is pretty problematic and plays into the psycho lesbian trope and is a remake of a movie that DOESN’T, so not valid.

5. Dirty Dancing.  Valid, because she touches his butt and also because every time you watch this with someone who grew up in the 80s they’re GUARANTEED to be like “and this part this part THIS PART” when he carelessly tosses her shirt aside.

6. Brokeback Mountain, the tent scene.  Loses points for the lack of lube, but I don’t think archive of our own existed back then so they wouldn’t have known their mistakes.  Also, easily the hottest tent sex.  Valid.

7. Unfaithful, the stairwell scene.  FUCK YES HELL YEAH GOOD SHIT GET IT.  Very valid cheating sex.

8. Indecent Proposal, Demi Moore has sex with her husband, not billionaire Robert Redford.  Lol what a bait and switch, I watched this because it’s my dream to get paid a million to have sex with someone and I have to watch Woody Harrelson have sex?  No thanks.  Not valid.

9. Anna Karenina, when Anna and Vronsky like, dance-fuck?  Fuck-dance?  I don’t know.  Vronsky’s hair is absolutely atrocious, and his mustache makes me feel like he shouldn’t be allowed around children, but this scene is very pretty.  Also, if you’re asking God for forgiveness after sex you probably did it right.  Valid.

10. Out of Sight, Clooney and JLo.  One of those sex scenes that’s like, intercut with the convo leading up to the sex, which can be hit or miss but it’s very sultry and 90s here.  Valid.

11. Vicky Cristina Barcelona, the threesome scene.  First off, lol, WHAT SCENE, you don’t even see shit.  Second, Woody Allen probably got his rocks off to this so instantly NOT VALID.

12. The Girl on the Train.  On Buzzfeed, this is described as, “when Luke Evans goes down on his wife”, and I agree.  VALID.

13. Monster’s Ball.  ............... Halle Berry is very good in this movie.  Is the movie a good movie?  Is this a good sex scene?  Also Billy Bob Thornton is there?  The debates about storytelling and realism can go on and on, but in terms of what I’m judging things by, which is good sex scene-ness,  not valid.

14. Black Swan. Natalie Portman fucks herself but it’s actually Mila Kunis.  You know how things can get when one knows oneself.  Very valid, as is the entire movie.

15. Body of Evidence.  I haven’t seen this movie, but the person who submitted it to Buzzfeed describes it as “the oral and then penetrative sex”, so I don’t trust them first off.  Second, Willem Dafoe and Madonna?  I worry.  Not valid.

16. Roadhouse.  Another movie where every woman who was a teenager in the 80s brings it up like “Have you seen Roadhouse?” with That Gleam in their eye.  Valid.

17. Conversations with Other Women.  I’ve never seen this movie and the cap Buzzfeed chose is absolutely ghastly, truly devastating for Aaron Eckhart, who I do not trust because he is not cute.  Not valid.

18. Mr. and Mrs. Smith, the kitchen fuckfight scene.  Listen kids, marriages don’t always work out but you can always look back and watch the moment when Shiloh was conceived!!!  We love witnessing the death of a marriage with brutal boning, QUITE valid.

19. Atonement, the library scene.  Yes!!!  A thousand times yes!!!!  Knightley’s foot gradually lifting off the ground, the “I love yous”, the entire mood getting killed when her kid sister walks in?  Perfection.  Valid.

20. Rocketman, Elton John bones Richard Madden.  So valid!  It’s very sweet and loving even though you know Richard Madden is bad news, and also I totally get why Elton almost lost a career over him.  Same, bro!

21. Y Tu Mama Tambien, the threesome.  Y’all can fuck a Goldfinch, actually attractive men (Gael Garcia Bernal and Diego Luna) actually make out with their actual lips and consummate their erotic friendship while the dying woman they’ve been roadtripping with blows them simultaneously.  Get your fucking shit together.  VALID.

22. The Mountain Between Us.  I.... I feel like a fraud here, but I did not like this scene.  Idris is very hot, but he looks like he’s crying during?  And I mean maybe that’s appropriate considering the fact that they almost died on a mountain, but that’s not my style.  Not valid, but gently.  Tearfully.

23. Her, that scene when Joaquin has phone sex with a robot.  I think that says it all.  Not valid.

24. The Piano, the scene where Harvey Keitel and Holly Hunter finally bone.  Like, am I attracted to Harvey Keitel?  No.  Let us get this disclaimer out there.  Is there some weird shit in this movie?  Yes.  But you can like.................. hear the vigor with which he’s going down on her in this scene......................................... ladies this was directed by a woman and you can TELL.  Valid.

25. A History of Violence, the stair scene.  This movie is very weird to me in so many ways, but like.  That shit.  That shit was..................... something.  Valid.

26. Crimson Peak, Tom Hiddleston fucks his wife when he wants to be fucking his sister.  I made this entire list because I saw the screencap of this scene for the article and laughed aloud.  Oh.  OH, Hiddlesstans.  Y’all think this was sexy?  His pale ass, the way he tried to snakedance his way up her body?  Oh.  Oh, my children.  Watch some other scenes, I beg of you.  Not valid, but a decent effort.

[let-it-raines]

Mistress of the Sea (3/3)

He comes into the tavern whenever he's docked in Misthaven, always following his crew and settling down at the table in the center of the room, ordering a rum before falling into telling a rousing story that has the entire room roaring with laughter. It's like that for years, and Emma gets used to watching Captain Killian Jones in his element on land, idly wondering what he must be like when at sea. They speak to each other, enough to know names and to be comfortable in conversation, but he's rarely around long enough for her to truly know him, his mistress of the sea always calling him home. 

And yet he always returns to Emma.

Rating: Mature (mostly this part)

A/N: I literally have no idea where part three of this came from, but here it is! I was saving it for an event posting later this month, but since I have something else for that now, I figured why not share it now?

You don’t need to have read the first two parts to understand, but they do help💜

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tag list (those of you who liked the first two parts): @juneqparis @darkcolinodonorgasm @effulgentcolors @xemmaloveskillianx @spartanguard @jonirobinson64 @jennjenn615 @hookedonhiddles @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @kmomof4 @shireness-says @scientificapricot @onceuponaprincessworld @badwolfandtimelords @nikkiemms @sarart13 @jamif @facesiousbutton82 @emmythedaydreamer @wellhellotragic @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @mayquita @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl

-/-

“You need more rum.”

“Alright.”

“And whiskey.”

“I’ve got it.”

“And I think the sheets upstairs need to be replaced soon as well.”

Emma scribbles the words down on her parchment, the ink of her pen marking her fingertips, before bending down to brush a kiss across Oliver’s cheek, making his cheeks redden in a way that’s only obvious because he’s been cursed (or blessed according to his father) with her pale skin and scattered freckles. He’s the most handsome seven-year-old boy in all of the kingdoms with his dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, eyelashes as long as she wishes hers were, and a gap-toothed smile that makes her days every time she elicits one from him.

For someone who was never sure that she wanted to be a mother, her son makes her question that train of thought every single day, even on the days where he refuses to eat his dinner and disobeys her orders.

Meeting Killian and falling in love with him in this tavern over months and years changed everything for her, and the kid helping her take stock of the tavern is just one of the many tangible things that prove that.

The small toddler with dark black hair and blue eyes, tanned skin with no freckles to be seen, walking between the tables talking to the dwarves is another one of those proofs.

Her little Maribel.

“Mummy,” Oliver sighs, his shoulders shrugging as he hops up onto the countertop despite how many times she has told him not to do that, “can we have dinner soon?”

“Ruby is making you something.”

“Ruby doesn’t make good food.”

Emma rolls her eyes, unable to stop herself, before she adjusts her trousers on her waist, the pants far too big for her now, and reaches over to pick Oliver up and place him back on the ground. The children spend their days with her in the tavern when they’re not at the school building or at home with Killian, and considering it is the summer holidays and Killian is somewhere miles and miles away, they’ve been constants at her sides. She doesn’t mind. She quite likes that she gets to spend time with them, especially because Oliver truly is such a big help. He gets his meticulousness from his father, and even when it drives her into madness, she loves the way that both he and Killian will sit outside of their front door at the cottage and straighten the fence posts or the way that Oliver will arrange Killian’s novels in his quarters on the Jolly.

Thinking of his captain’s cabin, thinking of the small bed with a warm quilt and soft pillows and the gentle rocking of the waves makes her heart ache with missing him. It’s almost unbearable some nights, her heart and mind attacking her wondering where her husband is, if he’s safe, if he’s coming home soon, if he’s coming home at all. She’s always been an independent person because of her lack of upbringing, someone who never relied on others, and while she gets on just fine without Killian home, she wants him home.

Or she wants to be out at sea with him.

Wherever he is, she would like to be there as well and be by his side every single day.

Life isn’t quite the same without him flirting with her while she works – he often pretends that they haven’t been married to each other for eight years now whenever his crew visits the tavern, and when he does this, he flirts with her much more openly and with more explicit detail than he ever did when he was her patron – or taking the children fishing and teaching them to read in the daylight hours. Her life is fuller with him and the crinkles around his eyes that she likes to trace in the early morning light. He often smiles at her, a crooked little thing, and then leans forward so that his lips can connect with every bit of skin that she has.

Her husband is a man who has killed, who has stolen, who has scars from life that he has taken and given, but in the mornings when the warm sunlight shines through the window in their bedroom and he’s smiling at her how he does, she can see nothing but love in the blue of his eyes.

The blue that is full of a lifetime spent on the ocean and yet is infinitely better than the sea in every conceivable way.

“There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

“Good.”

Her heart aches for the blue, and even the exact substitute that she sees in the eyes of her children cannot replicate it.

The glint isn’t quite right.

She would know. She can see those eyes even when her eyes are closed and darkness surrounds her.

“Ruby makes perfectly good food,” she tells Oliver, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him with squinted eyes that she knows make him listen. “Why don’t you go help her cook? She’s always telling me that you’re her favorite partner.”

“Even more than Maribel?”

“Only because you can reach the shelves.”

Oliver nods his head and darts past her and back into the kitchen. Ruby is most definitely going to despise her for sending Oliver back there when she’s trying to finish baking the bread for tonight as well as cooking a stew for them. If Ruby didn’t love them the way that she does, and maybe if she didn’t need the extra help, Emma knows that she would not have this job to return to whenever she’s home in Misthaven for long enough periods of time to need to work to fill her days and her coin purse.

(Ruby has been her closest friend for over a decade now, and under no circumstances would she ever ask her to leave the tavern even if she’s not the most reliable barmaid. Her children and husband? Yes. Her? No.)

“Oi,” Leroy calls out from his spot in the corner, several ale mugs already in front of him, “yer wee lassie is climbing up my boots, Mistress Jones.”

“Maribel,” Emma calls out, already walking out from behind the bar to cross the old wooden planks that need to be swept again. “Maribel, darling, don’t climb on Leroy’s boots.”

“Papa’s boots.”

Her eyes glance down at Leroy’s boots, and while they don’t truly resemble Killian’s, she can see how someone who is not yet three could get them confused with the boots her Papa wears. Killian’s left a pair sitting just inside the entrance to their cottage, and Maribel passes by them, nearly right at her eye level, every time she so much as enters the main part of their cottage.

Her heart could not possibly ache any more than it already does tonight.

“My darling,” she sighs, bending down and scooping Maribel up into her arms so that she rests at her hip, “those are like Papa’s boots, aren’t they? I think Papa’s feet may be too big to fit in them though.”

“No,” she giggles, her eyes scrunching up like Killian’s do.

Heartache.

“Oh, I think so. Papa has the largest feet you’ll ever see. Larger than even a giant.”

“Papa is small.”

“I think you and I are not talking about the same man here, my love.”

“Wench,” a man huffs, his voice dripping with disdain, “I didn’t come here tonight to watch you coddle your bastard. I’m out of rum. Fetch me some more.”

Anger bubbles up under her skin, the desire to reach into the strap inside of her trousers and grab her knife just at the surface. They get assholes in here every now and then, travelers from outside of town and drunks who don’t know any better, and she’ll never not be someone who rises up in defense of her children. She has made plenty of mistakes in her life, Killian too, but their children deserve no hatred.

None.

“Get out of here, you buffoon,” Ruby shouts, coming out of the kitchen with Oliver at her heels. Emma knows that the word buffoon was simply because children are around, and Emma both loves her and hates her for it when the man is a fucking asshole.

“Why the hell should I listen to you, bitch?”

There’s a collective murmur around the tavern, a familiar one really, and Emma grabs Oliver’s hand and tugs him along with her to get out of the way. Graham and Anton will be inside in a minute, the two of them usually making their way inside when there’s a commotion, but in all honesty, Ruby doesn’t need them to handle men like this.

“Well,” she scowls, stepping up to him, “for one, I own this tavern, and I only serve who I want. Secondly,” she holds up a finger as she gets closer, their height discrepancy lessened by the height of Ruby’s confidence, “I know how to use any and all weapons. And finally, and I think you might like this one best, the woman whose child you just called a bastard, is Captain Killian Jones’s wife.” His face pales, and Emma can barely hide her snicker. “Ah, so you know who he is then? I imagine you do, and I imagine you’ll want to leave now and strongly consider never coming back. The Captain is here most nights. I believe he’ll be in later tonight, but he had some business to attend to.”

If the man had a tail like a dog, it’d surely be stuck between his legs as he nearly runs out of the tavern, his hip bumping into tables and knocking over chairs. Emma suspects that’s all intentional, especially when he slams the door with such ferocity that the entire building shakes, but when it all settles down, all of their patrons break out into laughter, the sounds of joy coming back to the Mistress of the Sea.

“You have too much fun pulling that line,” Emma sighs at Ruby as the woman walks toward she and the children.

Ruby smirks, something so similar to Killian that she wonders if all of the people in her life have the ability to do that or if she’s starting to imagine things. “It’s too damn entertaining. Even if your husband wasn’t a seafaring man with good looks you hear stories about, you marrying him would be worth it simply to terrify folks like that.”

“Why would someone be scared of Papa?” Oliver asks innocently. “He’s not scary.”

“That’s because he loves you, kid. Your Papa would go to the ends of the earth to protect us, and sometimes that means he scares people.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t suspect that you do.”

The rest of the night passes quickly, the tavern rather subdued, and she leaves Ruby and Ashley to take care of things as she walks the children home, Maribel sleeping on her shoulder and Oliver holding her hand as they walk down beaten, sand-filled paths. She knows this walk like the back of her hand, and even if they do live a few minutes too far from the tavern and the docks, she likes the way their cottage is secluded enough for them to have safety and privacy, as well as their own strip of sand. The sea breeze wafts past her nose, salt in the air surrounding them, and the smell relaxes her as she opens the front door to the cottage and sends Oliver off to his room to change into his sleep clothes as she lights the lanterns so that they have more light than the simple moonlight.

She’ll bathe the children in the morning and wash all of their clothes, but she’s simply too tired to do all of that right now.

By the light of the lantern, she reads Oliver and Maribel one of their stories, softly recreating the voices of different characters. She can’t do it quite like Killian can, but she likes to think that she’s gotten better. The complaints have certainly lessened.

Maribel falls asleep first, Oliver soon after, and she closes the book and blow out the lantern light before kissing each of their foreheads and closing their bedroom door so that she can move to her own bedroom, changing out of her clothes and into one of Killian’s shirts. She has her own nightgowns, pretty ones that Killian brings home for her, but she likes the way Killian’s shirts fall across her thighs and keep her mostly covered but also cool during summer nights.

She swears that it still smells like him too, and that makes it all the better.

Her hair takes far too long to brush out, and sometimes she’s tempted to cut it more and make it more manageable, but she knows that she’d miss the plaits she can do with it and how Killian runs his fingers through it when they’re talking. It’s a part of her, and once it is smoothed out, she finds that she doesn’t hate it so much.

She loves it.

And she loves how easily she falls into slumber that night when she’s been struggling with sleeping lately.

-/-

There’s a creak against the floorboard, and Emma’s eyes immediately open as she quickly sits up and reaches for the knife that she keeps underneath the bed. Her heart is beating far too quickly to be healthy, and she’s ready to fight whoever has invaded their home in the darkness of the night.

Or not.

Because standing above her is the man whose blue eyes she’s been dreaming about.

The dreams don’t do them justice.

“Killian,” she breathes out on a sigh, dropping her weapon to the floor so that it clatters against the wood. It takes less than two seconds for her to rise from the bed and launch herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and…he’s so solid against her, warm and firm and feeling just like he did when he left. And he smells like he did, inviting and salty with the smallest hint of leather. His hands are welcomed and rough as they move up her bare thighs, holding her up against him, and she can feel her heart still beating wildly in her chest. And she can also feel his as the proof that he’s very much full of life. “Hi, my love.”

“Hello, Swan,” he chuckles into her neck, his breath hot in a way that sends shivers down her spine and his accent so damn pleasant that a sob gets caught in her throat, “I’m glad you decided to embrace me instead of killing me.”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“I know I’ve been gone for a good while, but I wouldn’t think that your husband is an intruder. Don’t you remember me?”

Emma unburies her face from his neck so that she can look at his face in an attempt to soak all of this in and prove that she’s not dreaming. It’s difficult to see in the dim light, but she can see enough to look at his tanned skin and the thick stubble that resides along his jaw and over his lips. He hasn’t shaved in what looks like weeks, and while she doesn’t dislike it, she much prefers when he’s close shaved, his stubble a pleasant scratch against her skin. He also hasn’t cut his hair, the dark fringe falling messily over his forehead, and she imagines she’ll be cutting it sometime tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He’ll be here tomorrow.

“I think you may need to remind me,” she murmurs before tilting her head forward and gliding her lips over his. He tastes of salt, but that’s not what she truly notices when she can feel the softness of his lips mixed in with the odd feeling of his beard. It’s slow, reverent, thorough, and she can’t stop moving her lips over his while never staying long enough in one spot to keep deepening the kiss.

There are too many places to kiss for her to stay in one place.

“I can do that, my mistress.”

“Can I be your mistress when I am your wife?”

“You will always be my mistress of the sea,” Killian whispers as he leans her forward and softly places her on the bed, the mattress soft against her back as her husband peppers kisses across her jaw while his hands slide up and down the outside of her thighs, pulling her shirt up to rest at her hips. “Have you been sleeping in my shirt this entire time, darling?”

“Some nights,” she answers honestly, tilting her neck to the side to give Killian access as he trails his lips across her skin, sending sharp shivers down her spine and causing heat to pool between her thighs. “Other nights in one of the nightgowns you’ve bought me, sometimes I’m wearing nothing at all.”

He squeezes her thighs then, and his fingers inch over them so that he’s brushing against the inside of her legs where she’s sensitive, the rough pads of his fingers bring her pleasure. “Why Mrs. Jones,” he mumbles into her ear, his beard still scratching at her skin in an unfamiliar way, “how scandalous. Don’t you know that it’s improper for you to wear nothing to bed? It is not the way of a lady.”

Emma chuckles, unable to help herself, and uses her hands to grab onto Killian’s cheeks and pull him to her so that she can see his eyes again and the little red mark on his cheek that she’s missed. Oh, and the quirked brow. She may have missed that most of all.

“Don’t you know?” she mock gasps, pressing a kiss to his scar. “I’ve never been a lady, but I truly ruined my reputation when I married a pirate of all things.”

“You’re my lady,” he says before he captures her mouth with his and presses his body weight further onto hers so that she can feel the hard lines of his stomach and the muscles of his thighs, the comforting weight that comes with him being on top of her. His kiss is somehow gentle and rough, possessive really, and the way that he’s running his tongue over the seam of her lips has her opening up to him so that their tongues can tangle together in a hot slide that has Killian groaning when she pushes her hips up to his to feel the friction that she wants, that she needs.

“You are my lady,” he pants again, pecking her lips before kissing the indent in her chin and moving down her neck to kiss the hollow of her throat. “And you are my mistress.” His lips run along her collarbone now, harshly biting down, and she gasps, pleasure and heat continuing to curl within her as gooseflesh rises on her skin. “And the mother of my beloved children.” He runs his tongue down the concave between her breasts. “My closest companion.” He noses away the fabric covering her now before lightly kissing a tightened nipple. “My wife.” Killian looks up at her now through his long, dark lashes, and she smiles down at him while her hand runs through his thick, soft hair that’s got bits of the sea situated in it. “You are my everything, and I have sailed all of the seas to come home to you.”

Then his tongue is circling her nipple and his teeth are biting down. Her hips arch up in response, and she can feel his growing hardness against her bare thigh. Every doctor in the realm would worry about her heart for the way that it’s beating within her chest, but there is nothing to worry about. She is simply in love with a man who is her everything as well.

She is in love with a man who is home.

The two of them have been intimate with each other for nearly a decade now, and while there are times when it is not necessarily thrilling, she knows from talking with other woman that their intimate times are not quite like what she has. Their husbands and lovers do not always take the time to bring them pleasure as Killian does with her, so she revels in the time that he spends lavishing her breasts, in the time that he spends with his dark head of hair buried between her thighs as he brings her pleasure that cannot be replicated by anything else in the world.

That’s always one of her favorite things.

But so is the way that Killian’s jaw clenches when her lips kiss at his hip, at the inked skin of her name written on his flesh, and how he arches his hips off of the bed when her fingers brush over his length in smooth motions that she knows that he enjoys. The curses that curl off of his tongue, deep and dark, stir her on as she takes him in her mouth and hums around him. There’s something wonderful about how much she can control his bliss, can bring him to feeling so wonderful, but then Killian is gently pulling on her hair to bring her away from him.

“Darling,” he pants, running his hands down her arms and squeezing her upper arms, “I love you, but I have been without you for seven weeks. I will burst if I am not inside you soon.”

She nods her head up and down before crawling up his body and settling herself over his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against the sensitive flesh between her thighs, and she slowly guides him into her so that he can stretch her, fill her, be within her, the two of them connected in every way.

“I love you,” she murmurs while starting to roll her hips. “I have missed you, have missed the feeling of you inside of me.”

“I have missed the feeling of being within you.” His fingers tug at the hem of her – his– shirt until it’s pulled above her shoulders, leaving her bare, and while one hand stays steady on her hip, the other comes to hold her breast. “You are so beautiful, my beloved.”

It’s a subtle, slow rocking of hips. She props her hands behind her back, fingers curling into the sheets, and Killian cants up into her to further sheath himself inside of her. They are experts in a quick fuck, in bringing each other pleasure as quickly as possible when they don’t have much time or the adrenaline is high after a dangerous night out on the waters, but they are moreover experts in relishing in the way that they join, in relishing in the way that their love allows them to fall apart slowly with stolen breaths and muttered words of love and affection.

Never again will she allow him to leave her for this long.

Never again.

It’s what she always says, every single time, and yet at least once a year, she has to watch him go. It’s the life of someone whose husband is meant to spend time on the ocean and with his crew. She cannot keep him with her, with their children, when there is a job to be done, a life to be lived, and what is seven weeks out of a long year when she gets a lifetime with this man?

Later, when they are both sated and there’s an ache between her thighs that she knows she will carry with her all of tomorrow, she curls into Killian’s side, her fingers tangling into the soft hair on his chest and her leg stuck between his calves. It’s perfect, especially with the way that Killian’s strong arm is wrapped around her shoulder and his fingers toy with the tips of her hair.

“Do the children look the same?” he ponders, pressing his mouth to her forehead and lingering there.

“Maribel’s hair has grown and gotten curlier, and I think she might be the slightest bit taller. Oliver is most definitely taller, and he’s lost some of his teeth. He looks ridiculous.”

Killian chuckles into her hair, and she feels his lips again. “Would I be horrible if I went to wake them up now so I can see them?”

She slaps his chest. “Yes! They already had a late night, and not even their Papa being home will wipe away their crankiness. Besides, I want you all to myself for as long as I can have you.”

It’s a quick tilt of her head upward to kiss his jaw before she settles back down against his shoulder.

“Will you take tomorrow off from the tavern? I think I’d like to have you and the children to myself as well. I don’t like traveling without you all.”

“I’m sure you and the crew get to have much more fun without all of us around.”

“Bloody hell, no, Emma. They all love you. It’s a bit disconcerting. It was just us for so long, but now, whenever we voyage without you, every man on that ship whines over not having you to talk with or to tell stories. I swear to you, darling, when I give an order, they look around for you like you are the Captain.”

“I always knew I had a commanding presence.”

“Aye, that’s very true. Scarlet has likely missed you as much as I have.”

“Good. I’ve missed him. The kids have too. I’m going to invite him to dinner when I next see him.”

“He’s already invited himself.”

She chuckles at that, burying her face into his shoulder and breathing in the salty smell of him, both the sea still on his skin as well as the sweat that formed during their lovemaking. “Are you going to tell me about your travels? Where did you go? Did you bring home any gold?”

“Ah, I knew you were only with me for my gold.” “You’ve foiled my plan.”

A sigh passes through his lips, and he straightens his shoulders, curling a bit more into her and tugging their quilt higher on the bed. “I will tell you everything you want to know, but Emma, I think I need you to tell me everything about your time here. I thought of you every day, and I want to make up for every moment that I’ve missed.”

-/-

When Emma wakes, the first thing she notices is the sunlight filtering through the window and the drapes, everything cast in a soft glow as her eyes adjust to yellow glow that’s brighter than she’s used to waking up to in the mornings. The second thing she notices is the lack of her husband in their bed, and when she runs her hand over the spot where he sleeps, it’s cold to the touch. For a moment, she worries once more that last night was a dream, that he’s not truly home, but the ache between her thighs and purpling bruise on her collarbone tell her otherwise.

Surely it was dreamy, but it was not a dream.

Slowly, she rises from the bed, moving over to her chest to find a shift to wear for this morning. She could get fully dressed, but since she doesn’t plan on leaving their cottage anytime soon, there is truly no point in wearing anything other than a pale blue shift that keeps her from walking around without clothes, which is perfectly fine with she and Killian, their children not so much.

The bedroom door is cracked when she goes to open it in search of Killian, and it doesn’t take long to find him. He’s sitting at the table, a plate of sausage and eggs in front of him that he must have gotten up and cooked, and Maribel is curled up in his lap with her arms wrapped around his stomach as much as she can reach and her unruly head of hair resting on his chest while she chews on a piece of bread. Oliver is sitting across from them, his hair sticking up in the back, and he’s very much eating off of Killian’s plate.

For as glad as she was to see Killian last night and as glad as she was to keep him to herself for a few hours, there are few sights like him sitting with his children listening to them talk over breakfast. It’s a routine in their life, one that happens whether they’re on land or sailing the seas, and it’s something that she didn’t know that she missed so damn much.

All of her loves in one place again. It’s the closest to perfection that life can get.

“And then,” Oliver gasps, his mouth very obviously full of food, “the man was loud with Mummy, but Aunt Ruby came out from the kitchen and told him that he couldn’t be mean to Mummy because you were going to show up.”

“Oh, was I going to protect Mummy then, lad?” Killian questions, raising a brow and winking so that she knows that he’s seen her this morning.

“Yes. You’re a pirate, so you have to protect Mummy and me and Maribel.”

“Is that what a pirate does?”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes. You also drink lots rum and wear lots of jewelry with skulls on them.”

“Ah,” Killian sighs, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork and offering it to Maribel before he takes a bite out of it himself, “you are right on that, but I think you have more that you need to learn about being a pirate. I think I’ll have to take you and your sister to spend some more time on the Jolly Roger soon. Your bunk is waiting for you there.” “What?” Emma laughs, finally stepping away from the doorframe and walking toward her family, the wood cool beneath her feet. “Do I not get invited to spend time on the Jolly Roger and have pirate lessons?”

“You do, darling,” Killian smiles, tilting his head up so that she can press a kiss to his lips, one, two, three times. “Your bunk is waiting for you as well, preferably with me already in it.” He waggles his eyebrows at that, and she slaps his shoulder. The scoundrel. “But I think today I want to go to our beach and do a little swimming, maybe even some fishing, yeah?”

“Shells?” Maribel asks, looking up at Killian so that he can bop her nose.

“Aye, my little love, we can collect your shells as well. I have a jar of them that I’ve brought home for you to display above our fireplace.”

-/-

Emma’s knees are tugged up to her chest as she watches Killian and Oliver stand in the water with fishing poles in their hands. Killian has on a pair of old trousers that have been rolled up to his calves, but the water is still hitting them and soaking through the brown material. Those two have been standing in the water for nearly an hour now, and they haven’t caught a thing.

Not one.

And she’s not entirely sure why Killian hasn’t moved to another spot where the fish are more plentiful, but honestly, she thinks that it’s because Oliver keeps giggling and splashing about and Killian doesn’t care enough about catching them some dinner when their son is having such a good time.

(She doesn’t care either.)

“Mummy, look,” Maribel speaks quietly. She’s holding a handful of red and white shells, most of them unbroken but a few chipped on the sides.

“Those are beautiful, darling.” Emma holds her hand out to take them from Maribel so that she can carefully place them in the basket. “You’re doing so well in your collections. Papa is going to be so happy to see them.”

This gets a big grin out of Maribel, and Emma has to roll her eyes the slightest bit. The man leaves them for seven weeks, and yet he’s still got them wrapped around his finger.

(It’s the same with her.)

“We can keep them?”

“Yeah, kid, we can keep them. I’m going to put them in their home with all of the others.”

“I’m hungry.”

Emma laughs at the sudden change of subject, which is pretty common for this one, and she reaches forward to grab Maribel and start running her fingers over her stomach so that Maribel starts laughing in a fit of high-pitched giggles that could probably be captured in a jar and sold as pure joy.

“You’re hungry?” Emma teases, keeping her fingers moving as her daughter squirms. “What are we going to do about that, huh? I think we need to complain to your Papa and your brother that they aren’t catching us fish for dinner.”

“M-mummy,” Maribel squeals, her entire face scrunched up in laughter. “I want a sweet cake.”

“Maybe tomorrow, lovely,” Emma sighs, picking Maribel up and kissing her cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to the docks and let Papa buy you a sweet cake, okay?”

Emma stands from the ground, the soft sand sinking below her feet, and picks Maribel up to rest on her hip while she walks the two of them out to the water, the bottom of her dress soaking with salt water. She needs to find some shorter pieces to wear when they’re on their secluded slice of the beach because there is really no other way to enjoy the ocean than letting it hit her bare skin as Killian swims around her.

“Darling,” Emma calls as she walks up to Killian and Oliver, “Maribel tells me that she’s ready for supper, and yet I don’t think the two of you have caught any fish.”

“Aye, well, the fish don’t seem to be as welcoming to my return as all of you are. Did you scare them off while I was away by telling them tall tales about me?”

“Papa, fish don’t talk,” Oliver corrects him.

“Fish talk like the ocean does, lad. Just because we do not speak their language does not mean they do not have one of their own.”

“I think you got too much sun on your trip, and now you’re crazy.”

She and Killian both snicker at Oliver’s words, the two of them unable to hide their laughs at him. Or rather with him. He’s such a smart child, one she cannot believe is her own, and one day she simply knows that he is going to grow up to be just like Killian.

They could all be so lucky.

-/-

“Should we move them to their beds?”

“Not now,” Emma sighs, leaning back into Killian’s chest and bringing his hands around her waist to rest on her stomach.

They came inside from the beach not an hour ago, staying out there much longer than anticipated when Killian and Oliver miraculously started to catch a few fish and then Maribel insisted that everyone continue to collect shells with her. All of their skin is a little darker than before and thankfully not red with burns, but Emma can tell that their children’s tiredness stems from a day out in the sunshine with little reprieve. It was wonderful in every conceivable way, but so is sitting in their den with Maribel and Oliver sound asleep on the plush rug while she and Killian sit together on their cushioned chair.

He may have spent most of his time today with their children, as he very well should have, but now that they are asleep, all of his attention is back to her, as it very well should be.

At least for these few moments.

Killian sighs behind her, and she feels his lips press into the skin at her shoulder, his nose moving away the fabric of the nightgown she’s changed into. “They are so wonderful. I never thought – after I lost Liam and Milah, I never thought that I would want to have children or would want to bring them into this world, but I cannot thank you enough for giving them to me.”

Her heartbeat stutters as emotion lodges itself in her throat, and all she can do is lean back further into his chest and squeeze his hands over where they reside on her stomach.

“It was a team effort, but since I did do most of the work, I will take that compliment.”

Killian laughs behind her, his entire chest moving with it so that she moves too. “No one in all of the realms has a wife with as much humor with you, I swear to it. I have asked hundreds of men.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You are impossible.”

“And you love me for that.”

“Aye,” he mumbles, kissing her shoulder again while his nails trace patterns into her stomach and over her wrists, “I do. I love you and every part of your past and present that makes up who you are. I spent so many nights in my quarters wishing that I had you beside me in bed or that you were sitting at the table reading a book that you’ve already read many times over. I simply want to be beside you at all times, even when you are cross with me, and not having you with me nearly killed me. Every tavern the crew went into was wrong because you were not serving us our drinks and telling stories. Every beach I went to was empty because I didn’t have you to swim with me or the children to collect shells with me. You have changed every facet of my life, and I sometimes I feel inadequate in that I am not as nearly wonderful to you as you are to me.”

“Killian,” she immediately whispers before tilting her head back to kiss at his jaw. Her mind is still trying to wrap around all of his words, of the emotions behind them all, but she does not need time to know that the last little bit is utterly and completely false. “You are my everything, and it’s my wish that you never feel inadequate in how much you mean to me, to us. You are the one who has changed every facet of my life, who takes me on great adventures and shows me how much of the world that there is to discover, but in truth, I need nothing more than for you to hold me as we fall asleep or for you to make me laugh at any and all times of the day. Right now, right here, you are giving me more than enough by simply being who you are.”

His head nods behind her, the scruff of his newly shaven beard pleasantly scratching against her skin, and his warmth radiates over every inch of her body, embracing her as he does.

“I love you, my beloved, and I promise to hold you just like this for as long as I can as I do not have any inclination as to why I should let go.”

Emma closes her eyes and takes hold of his hands once more, bringing his knuckles to her lips so that she can brush a kiss over each one.

She’s never letting go either.

[visualreverence]

Dune Genesis by Frank Herbert

(Image by John Schoenherr, text via: https://vasil.ludost.net/dunegenesis.pdf)

This essay was originally published in the July 1980 issue of Omni Magazine. It has never been reprinted, and most DUNE fans have not had the opportunity to read Frank Herbert's description of creating his masterpiece

Dune began with a concept whose mostly unfleshed images took shape across about six years of research and one and a half years of writing. The story was all in my head until it appeared on paper as I typed it out.

How did it evolve? I conceived of a long novel, the whole trilogy as one book about the messianic convulsions that periodically overtake us. Demagogues, fanatics, con-game artists, the innocent and the not-so-innocent bystanders-all were to have a part in the drama. This grows from my theory that superheroes are disastrous for humankind. Even if we find a real hero (whatever-or whoever-that may be), eventually fallible mortals take over the power structure that always comes into being around such a leader.

Personal observation has convinced me that in the power area of politics/economics and in their logical consequence, war, people tend to give over every decision-making capacity to any leader who can wrap himself in the myth fabric of the society. Hitler did it. Churchill did it. Franklin Roosevelt did it. Stalin did it. Mussolini did it.

My favorite examples are John F. Kennedy and George Patton. Both fitted themselves into the flamboyant Camelot pattern, consciously assuming bigger-than-life appearance. But the most casual observation reveals that neither was bigger than life. Each had our common human ailment-clay feet.

This, then, was one of my themes for Dune: Don't give over all of your critical faculties to people in power, no matter how admirable those people may appear to be. Beneath the hero's facade you will find a human being who makes human mistakes. Enormous problems arise when human mistakes are made on the grand scale available to a superhero. And sometimes you run into another problem.

It is demonstrable that power structures tend to attract people who want power for the sake of power and that a significant proportion of such people are imbalanced-in a word, insane.

That was the beginning. Heroes are painful, superheroes are a catastrophe. The mistakes of superheroes involve too many of us in disaster.

It is the systems themselves that I see as dangerous Systematic is a deadly word. Systems originate with human creators, with people who employ them. Systems take over and grind on and on. They are like a flood tide that picks up everything in its path. How do they originate?

All of this encapsulates the stuff of high drama, of entertainment-and I'm in the entertainment business first. It's all right to include a pot of message, but that's not the key ingredient of wide readership. Yes, there are analogs in Dune of today's events-corruption and bribery in the highest places, whole police forces lost to organized crime, regulatory agencies taken over by the people they are supposed to regulate. The scarce water of Dune is an exact analog of oil scarcity. CHOAM is OPEC.

But that was only the beginning.

While this concept was still fresh in my mind, I went to Florence, Oregon, to write a magazine article about a US Department of Agriculture project there. The USDA was seeking ways to control coastal (and other) sand dunes. I had already written several pieces about ecological matters, but my superhero concept filled me with a concern that ecology might be the next banner for demagogues and would-be-heroes, for the power seekers and others ready to find an adrenaline high in the launching of a new crusade.

Our society, after all, operates on guilt, which often serves only to obscure its real workings and to prevent obvious solutions. An adrenaline high can be just as addictive as any other kind of high.

Ecology encompasses a real concern, however, and the Florence project fed my interest in how we inflict ourselves upon our planet. I could begin to see the shape of a global problem, no part of it separated from any other-social ecology, political ecology, economic ecology. It's an open-ended list.

Even after all of the research and writing, I find fresh nuances in religions, psychoanalytic theories, linguistics, economics, philosophy, plant research, soil chemistry, and the metalanguages of pheromones. A new field of study rises out of this like a spirit rising from a witch's cauldron: the psychology of planetary societies.

Out of all this came a profound reevaluation of my original concepts. In the beginning I was just as ready as anyone to fall into step, to seek out the guilty and to punish the sinners, even to become a leader. Nothing, I felt, would give me more gratification than riding the steed of yellow journalism into crusade, doing the book that would right the old wrongs.

Reevaluation raised haunting questions. I now believe that evolution, or deevolution, never ends short of death, that no society has ever achieved an absolute pinnacle, that all humans are not created equal. In fact, I believe attempts to create some abstract equalization create a morass of injustices that rebound on the equalizers. Equal justice and equal opportunity are ideals we should seek, but we should recognize that humans administer the ideals and that humans do not have equal ability.

Reevaluation taught me caution. I approached the problem with trepidation. Certainly, by the loosest of our standards there were plenty of visible targets, a plethora of blind fanaticism and guilty opportunism at which to aim painful barbs.

But how did we get this way? What makes a Nixon? What part do the meek play in creating the powerful? If a leader cannot admit mistakes, these mistakes will be hidden. Who says our leaders must be perfect? Where do they learn this?

Enter the fugue. In music, the fugue is usually based on a single theme that is played many different ways. Sometimes there are free voices that do fanciful dances around the interplay. There can be secondary themes and contrasts in harmony, rhythm, and melody. From the moment when a single voice introduces the primary theme, however, the whole is woven into a single fabric.

What were my instruments in this ecological fugue? Images, conflicts, things that turn upon themselves and become something quite different, myth figures and strange creatures from the depths of our common heritage, products of our technological evolution, our human desires, and our human fears.

You can imagine my surprise to learn that John Schoenherr, one of the world's most foremost wildlife artists and illustrators, had been living in my head with the same images. People find it difficult to believe that John and I had no consultations prior to his painting of the Dune illustrations. I assure you that the paintings were a wonderful surprise to me.

The Sardaukar appear like the weathered stones of Dune. The Baron's paunch could absorb a world. The ornithopters are insects preying on the land. The sandworms are Earth shipworms grown monstrous. Stilgar glares out at us with the menace of a warlock.

What especially pleases me is to see the interwoven themes, the fuguelike relationships of images that exactly replay the way Dune took shape.

As in an Escher lithograph, I involved myself with recurrent themes that turn into paradox. The central paradox concerns the human vision of time. What about Paul's gift of prescience-the Presbyterian fixation? For the Delphic Oracle to perform, it must tangle itself in a web of predestination. Yet predestination negates surprises and, in fact, sets up a mathematically enclosed universe whose limits are always inconsistent, always encountering the unprovable. It's like a koan, a Zen mind breaker. It's like the Cretan Epimenides saying, "All Cretans are liars."

Each limiting descriptive step you take drives your vision outward into a larger universe which is contained in still a larger universe ad infinitum, and in the smaller universes ad infinitum. No matter how finely you subdivide time and space, each tiny division contains infinity.

But this could imply that you can cut across linear time, open it like a ripe fruit, and see consequential connections. You could be prescient, predict accurately. Predestination and paradox once more.

The flaw must lie in our methods of description, in languages, in social networks of meaning, in moral structures, and in philosophies and religions- all of which convey implicit limits where no limits exist. Paul Muad'Dib, after all, says this time after time throughout Dune.

Do you want an absolute prediction? Then you want only today, and you reject tomorrow. You are the ultimate conservative. You are trying to hold back movement in an infinitely changing universe. The verb to be does make idiots of us all.

Of course there are other themes and fugal interplays in Dune and throughout the trilogy. Dune Messiah performs a classic inversion of the theme. Children of Dune expands the number of themes interplaying. I refuse, however, to provide further answers to this complex mixture. That fits the pattern of the fugue. You find your own solutions. Don't look to me as your leader.

Caution is indeed indicated, but not the terror that prevents all movement. Hang loose. And when someone asks whether you're starting a new cult, do what I do: Run like hell.

[msjr0119]

What took you so long?

Part 9 - Apple Pip 🍎

Liam had been assassinated, Drake had left Cordonia before this. He had heard from Savannah about his friend- he felt guilty not returning. Someone had blackmailed him to not return, with only his sister knowing the truth. Leo had taken over the throne in place of his brother due to there being no heir....

*CHARACTERS BELONG TO PIXELBERRY*

{Drake x Riley}

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012

******

Riley placed her trembling hand protectively over her stomach- no, there’s a mistake. I can’t be pregnant. They’d have realised before now. Shit.

Sat in the hospital chair, remaining silent- not acknowledging what was surrounding her. Drake’s and the Dr’s voices were just a distant echo ringing in her head. Denial was setting in- not wanting to get her hopes up that this was her second chance at motherhood.

“Duchess Riley.”

I don’t want to be a Duchess. Please stop calling me that, I’m a commoner. I’m just a waitress from New York. I accepted that role of the Duchess of Valtoria only because I felt guilty for aborting his child. I’m not pregnant. I can’t be. Is this another dream, my imagination playing tricks on me? What if I’m not a good mom? I believe I was with Liam Jr, but that was a dream- not reality. I remember the night well prior to the shooting, Drake described me as a mojito- he knew what Kiara and Penelope would drink. He knows everyone in court. But does he really know me? That night was the first time I smiled in a while- the golden dress that I wore was beautiful, the second time myself and Drake slept together- the first time we was sober and it meant something. The night I conceived this baby.

“Duchess Riley, we are ready to take you for a scan. Do you want Sir Walker to come with you?”

“Riley? Please respond to us.”

“Sorry.” The only word she could express, due to her mind being trapped in a daze.

“Do you want me to come? I don’t mind if you don’t me to.” Drake knew he was lying saying this, but she was; silent, confused, upset, in a trance.

“Come with me. It’s your baby too.” Drake held her hand to his lips, then kissed her on the forehead.

*****

Laying down on the bed, she lift her top up- Drake held her hand tightly. The cold gel, shocked her. Staring up to the ceiling, she closed her eyes as the sonographer placed the probe hard on her stomach. Drake’s mouth opened staying ajar, as he watched the screen.

“The baby seems fine. It’s hard to tell at this time, but it looks like they are developing as we expect.”

Riley opened her eyes, slowly turning her head towards the sounds from the machine. Tears forming in her eyes- viewing the little miracle. Drake kissed her hand, turning to him- she could see tears forming in his eyes also. Pulling him closer to her, she placed a soft kiss on his lips, which had shocked him - due to her coldness towards him.

“I’d like to see you again in around three weeks. I’ve printed a picture off for you- there’s nothing much to see as of yet. It’s the size of an Apple pip.”

Riley and Drake nodded, leaving the hospital and getting back in the truck there was silence.

“Can you take me to the palace Drake? I need to see some people.”

“Of course. Riley... I’m so sorry. I know it’s a shock. But I do love you. I’ll protect the both of you.” Riley remained silent, just holding his hand and the picture of their tadpole in the other. Her fingers tracing it effortlessly- this feeling of conditional love already filled her heart.

*****

Arriving at the palace, Riley immediately took her seatbelt off- racing out of the truck she headed straight up to Liam’s study hoping he was there. Drake wanted to follow but knew she needed space alone. Even though he was thrilled that she was pregnant, he believed that night she had forgotten about the conversation regarding using protection that night.

“Riley, I need to get a condom. It won’t take long.”

“Drake, I don’t care. I love you. You love me. That’s a risk we have to take. Please I just need you now.”

*******

“Bastien is he in? I need to see him.”

Bastien nodded and allowed her in, Liam turned around and saw Riley break down crying. Placing his paperwork on the desk, he sat her down.

“What’s up Ri? Is everything okay?”

“I’m... I’m...pregnant. I don’t know if I can do this again.”

Liam’s heart sunk at the word ‘pregnant’. He still loved Riley, he was still grieving her decision over the termination. He knew she wouldn’t return his love, but she would always be in his heart even if he was seeing Olivia. Riley gave him the picture of the scan, her tears became uncontrollable- now mimicking a waterfall.

“Ri. You will make a brilliant Mother. You’re amazing in every single way. I know this baby will be loved by you. It’s your second chance. I’m assuming the father is Drake?” His heart sunk, as she nodded even though he knew the paternity of the unborn child.

“Yes. I slept with him before we got shot. I don’t know what to do Li. What if the baby is unhealthy due to the shooting. What if I can’t cope.”

“You have Drake. He’s always loved you. He was willing to help you bring our child up. I will always love you, but you and Drake have this connection that we never had. You need to talk to him about all your feelings. He may be feeling the same? I will always support you.” Riley nodded, knowing he was correct.

“Liam. Thank you. I need to go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it Duchess Riley. Goodnight.” He kissed her on the cheek, tenderly. If this was the closest he would ever get to her, he was happy.

Riley left the study, pulling Bastien aside discreetly. She knew Glen the other guard was around- but needed Bastien to help her.

“Bastien. I need you to take me somewhere. I need you to take me to the holding cells.” Bastien looked bewildered at why she would want to go there, he knew who she wanted to see but didn’t comprehend why.

“Duchess Riley... I don’t think that is a wise idea.” Talking calmly, he knew how stubborn she was and that he would be losing a battle arguing with her.

“Please Bastien. Just don’t tell Liam or Drake.” Rolling his eyes back, he shook his head. He knew the King and Drake would kill him, but he was afraid at what Riley would do if he refused her wish.

Arriving at the holding cell, the guards attempted to prevent Bastien and Riley from entering. Bastien reminded them who was the head guard and they soon quivered and backed down.

Riley took a deep breath as she entered the damp, dark and cold room. It provided a miserable atmosphere.

“Duchess Riley. It’s so lovely to see you.”

“Shut the fuck up Justin. Or Anton. Or whatever the fuck you are called. I trusted you.”

“There she is- the fiery lady we all love. And I’m so sorry it came to this. You was the only person in court that I actually liked.” He smirked at her- that smirk made her shake, rage burning through her body.

“You shot me!”

“The bullet was never intended for you. Seeing him crawl over to you to save you. It was adorable but so frustrating.”

“Who crawled over to me? And who the hell was it intended for?”

“Liam crawled to you. He was shot down- then saw you on the floor. The bullet was intended for King Father and Queen mother- but somehow tragically you got in the way.”

Bastien saw her begin to shake, he needed to get her out but she was refusing. Discreetly he text Liam and Drake to immediately come- knowing his head was going to be on a platter by all three of them.

“You have fucked my life up! I can’t remember things, I’m imagining things. What did you do to Drake that night?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“I asked you didn’t I?” Folding her arms together, she wasn’t in the mood for games.

Drake was slowly heading back to the ballroom. His hand kept checking and patting his pocket- making sure the ring was still there. Looking outside the window- standing frozen he had thought that the fireworks had ended. Beginning to run- his heart stopped realising it was gun shots.

Anton and his men quickly quickly separated and aborted the plan to attack and assassinate The Royal Family. They had struck one down, and a Duchess but they weren’t the targets.

“Justin! Where the fuck are you going?”

Ignoring Drakes question he carried on running with the mysterious men.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!”

Anton pushed him against the wall, holding his neck firmly.

“Walker- don’t tell anyone you saw us.” Realising his hand, he hoped that little threat would prevent Drake from considering running to Liam.

��Who the fuck are you? I’ve always had my doubts about you. And I want to know! With your idiotic catchphrase, I warned Brooks about you.”

“I’m Anton Severus. That’s all you need to know. Oh by the way Drake- your precious Liam and Riley will be dead any moment. And I can’t risk you saving them! Guards get him!”

Drake tried defending himself- he was losing a battle surrounded by a group of masked men- hearing Anton laugh he knew he had to escape to save his best friend and lover. Hoping it was a red herring and that Anton was just trying to get under his skin.

“Forever trying being the hero Walker like your father, but you won’t be that today.”

“Just let me get Riley. She doesn’t deserve that. You can’t tear her away from me.”

“So it’s true then. Then you are together.”

“Yes. Why?” Closing his eyes he saw her face in his mind- he needed to fight. He needed to save her, protect her, hold her.

“Maybe she was the court whore then? Well it makes sense- you are both commoners. Shame about the termination of the pregnancy though. How would you have reacted if she kept her and Liam’s mistake.”

“I’d have still loved them both. You’re going to pay for all of this.”

“No Walker- I’m going to be your king. The rightful king. And this is where we say goodbye. I suggest you leave Cordonia before I hurt your sister and nephew- or I may just have to kill you instead” Claudius was ordered to hit Drake across the head - sending him into a state of unconsciousness. Tying him up- the left him laying in a puddle of blood.

“You left him to die! You left me and Liam to die! You’re a bastard! I swear if I was Olivia carrying daggers around I’d slit your throat open! How could you do that to Drake? How did he survive?” Scowling at him, she had an adrenaline rush- holding him by the neck, digging her nails into his skin, the tiniest bit of blood leaked out. Having a staring contest with him- she wasn’t willing to lose.

“You made me survive. A little knock to the head wouldn’t kill me.” Turning around she saw Liam and Drake looking at her furiously. Bastien held his head down low- knowing he had betrayed her trust.

Drake walked over to her, she still had a tight grip on Anton- loosening her hand he escorted her away from Antons perimeter.

“You think this is the end? Watch your backs!” He shouted as they left. Scrutinising the cell, he needed to think about how he was going to escape. He already had plan B in place, laughing to himself- they had no clue.

*****

Slowly walking back up to Liam’s study- they were all stunned in silence.

“How could you put yourself in danger? And Bastien too?” Liam snapped at the Duchess, who showed a slight bit of fear in her eyes due to his unusual tone of voice.

“Liam I needed answers! I’m confused. I wanted to look into his eyes. Don’t blame Bastien.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose he regretted talking to her in a stern tone of voice.

“Ri, you have to look after yourself and the baby. We’ve already nearly lost you once. Neither myself nor Drake will allow that to happen again. We all need to look to the future.” Liam smiled at Drake, he knew what Drake had wanted to do since that night- they were now going to be a family.

“Drake take her back to your cabin. Look after them both.” As Drake and Riley left, Liam poured himself a scotch. Bastien looked concerned.

“Sir? You love her still don’t you?” Nodding his head, Bastien didn’t elaborate.

*****

Arriving back at the cabin, there was an awkward atmosphere. Drake didn’t want to put his foot in his mouth and upset her. He knew it would take time for her recover from the trauma, giving her space he was lost in his own bubble of thoughts.

“Are you coming to bed?” Riley asked seductively, turning his head she was stood in a silky robe. Gulping he wanted her there and then.

“I thought you’d want some space, you’ve had a hectic day.”

“Drake? We are going to be a family soon. Am I that repulsing that you can’t come to bed? I’m sorry that I wanted to see Anton.” Placing her hand on his shoulder, she wanted everything to go back to normal.

“I can’t wait to be a family Ri, you are not repulsing at all- I just assumed you’d want some space.” Placing his hand over her stomach, she softly smiled at him.

“I want you to come to bed with me Drake, with us.”

“Riley Brooks, you came into my life like a whirlwind. And now you are having my child. We have been through so much, but I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again or our child. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got shot. I got there as soon as I could. And i am grateful that you are okay....”

“I’m grateful that you are too..” she said to him, tears in her eyes- thinking back to what Anton reiterated to her.

“Please just let me finish.” Riley looked at him bewildered. “I never knew how I would express how much I loved you.” Picking up the photo of their baby, he held her in his embrace- both smiling at the scan. “This is a result of us, half you, half me. I don’t know if that is what you wanted. But now it’s happening, you have made me the happiest man alive. You are going to be the most incredible and loving mom.” Going down on one knee, he held her hands tightly- slightly shaking. Pulling out the box out of his pocket- she gasped. Looking up into her eyes, they provided vulnerability as well as love.

“Riley, I wanted to do this that night. Now that we are having a baby - it only seems right to do it now. Will you marry me and make me the happiest commoner alive?”

“No. I can’t make you the happiest commoner alive.” Feeling guilty seeing his face fall due to the response. She bent down to his level- kissing him passionately, confusing Drake.

“I’ll make you the happiest Duke alive.”

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 113 Thoughts

See, there’s this fundamental problem with Zeke’s strategy for dealing with Levi.

It hinges on Levi having a good heart, and loving his subordinates.

It hinges on the world being a kind enough place to Levi that he’s ever believed he has the benefit of that bringing him something besides pain.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Zeke?

War is cruel.

And Levi prefers tea.

How frustrating must that have been, though? Day after day of watching every single person in the squad take a drink. Day after day of reading the same book, over and over again, dealing with the angriest little soldier that could.

All while Levi doesn’t drink a drop.

Or was it fun? Did it bring Zeke some joy to know that Levi’s only escape would be doing what was necessary, and his too-soft heart would never be capable of doing that?

It’s hilarious how badly Zeke misjudges Levi.

Like.

Zeke.

Kiddo.

(I’m gonna call you kiddo.)

Just because you don’t value your foot soldiers, just because you don’t think twice about the people you transform into monsters, just because you haven’t grown out of thinking of them as your tiny tin soldiers you can wind up for the heck of it and pop out their eyes if they happen to not follow your orders...

You think your lengthy moral defects are the only thing that can drive someone to be willing to throw bodies upon bodies on the chopping block?

You’re so angry when that last gasp of a charge comes after you in Shiganshina, because it’s so pointless. Throwing bodies at the problem doesn’t change anything. When you do it, though, you have a mission in mind. That makes your way better, right?

You think because their constant sacrificial ways are so ineffective, their hearts are less resolute?

You think their soldiers consenting to their sacrifice makes them weaker?

Zeke’s entire plan goes so smoothly. The Yeagerists are running unopposed, the MPs are poisoned (and hell, with the range on that, things somehow continue manage to get even worse), and Zeke’s on his way out of the woods.

His one mistake is misunderstanding Levi.

Or, again:

Misunderstanding the Survey Corps.

When Levi first wins against Zeke, it’s immediately after Zeke’s scornful judgment of the Scout recruits giving their lives away. These uninventive fools can’t come up with any strategy but killing themselves. It’s idiotic and pointless.

At that point in the story, we have some idea of Zeke’s abilities, but not the extent. Not the utility. He has sent hordes of mindless titans after people. He’s performed his role as a cog in the war machine exquisitely. The idea that seeing someone else do the same thing offends him... oh, but that’s fun. The world is Zeke’s playground, not someone else’s. His methods have purpose. Your fave could never.

Only the Survey Corps has always found purpose in their deaths. They accept a hopeless mission knowing that death is coming for all of them.

Their bodies are building a bridge over the walls that keep their people caged. Their deaths will never be meaningless. They will fight the best way they can, and do it with clear eyes and proud hearts.

Their sacrifices aren’t about a failure of imagination; they’re a testament to their will. Give them an inch, they will find a mile.

The walls start them out with so much less than an inch, so they improvise, and their bodies become the tools to carve a better future. For them? No, probably not. For the world. For their people.

That’s what Zeke derides.

He’s grown up surrounded by a society selling that myth; Marley will never let Eldians have a better future. Eldians are only tools, and Warriors are suckers for believing that they have a prayer of changing things. Zeke can, but Zeke? He’s royalty. He has royal blood. His belief that he can change something is backed by something solid and real, not fairy tales of a glorious death bringing about a new world.

Erwin is the one who orders the charge on Zeke.

He does not want to give that order, initially. He wants to be selfish. He wants to learn the truth. He wants to see it with his own eyes, something that every single Scout has always been denied, and gone into battle knowing they probably won’t be the one to finally figure it all out.

Levi is the one who brings Erwin back to the best of himself. He pulls the Commander back in. Give the order. If there’s even a single spark of light, chase it, even if it kills you, so your body can carry your comrades and people further onward.

The first time Eren is saved by Levi, he sees the wings on his back.

The Wings of Freedom are Levi’s to bear.

Heavier than any iron, they still fly.

If Zeke had understood that even a little, he would have transformed with the soldiers. He would have joined the mindless squad in killing Levi instead of assuming it was a done deal and saving his energy.

You don’t win in a world like this by saving tricks for the final hour. Every hour is your final hour.

Strength, time, and choices.

Those things aren’t real.

Zeke thinks he knows that lesson, but he thinks, somehow, that a squad of mindless titans is enough to take down Levi even though it never has been.

Levi’s done nothing but kill humans his whole life. Victims.

He’s the first character to give voice to that, when Hange announces the theory. While everyone’s reeling with the horror, Levi goes straight to his actions, and the implications of what he, himself, has done. He’s Humanity’s Strongest. That translates very quickly into being the person responsible for killing more Eldian victims than any other person on the island.

That doesn’t change what he does. The awareness doesn’t diminish his belief in its necessity.

Zeke misses that. Completely.

The Survey Corps is full of insane dreamers who are capable of envisioning a better world when all logic and history dictates it won’t happen. That isn’t the same as innocence or naivety. The surviving members of the Survey Corps are people who look at monsters twelve times their size, and decide that they are going to fight until one of them wins.

Zeke’s been to the rest of the world, where Titans are losing significance, but still so horrifying that it’s only the development of heavy artillery that’s finally making it possible for anything in the world to fight them. One tiny human against a titan? That’s over before it starts.

Paradis does not have the luxury of thinking that way. Yeah, they’ll probably die, but they’ll put in some work before they leave. Such is life. They aren’t strong enough to win for themselves, so this is their only chance to make use of their limited time.

Every soldier has a choice to make. MPs, Garrison, Survey Corps.

90% death rate.

That isn’t a choice, it’s just that the options are death (of you) or death (of your people). A choice you’re forced into isn’t something you can truly embrace as your own decision. Everyone is a slave to the system, and a fool if they think otherwise.

That paragraph describes Marley’s system perfectly, and that’s what Zeke grows up with.

It also is a relatively fair description of Paradis, and I’m sure plenty of citizens would see and agree with that argument.

But the dreamers who make up the Survey Corps transform that illusion of choice into intent. This is the one option the world offers for improvement? It’s hell? You and everyone who fights for it is going to die, possibly without making a single dent in anything?

Fine. That chance of light is infinitely better than the promise of darkness if we do nothing. Bring on the gloom and death, we don’t need to be the ones to overcome it, but we’re going to make damn sure the one who does has a starting line to plant their feet on.

Marley Warriors believe wholeheartedly that if they just try hard enough, and die well enough, they’ll bring a new dawn for their people.

The Survey Corps is much more cynical in their approach. They don’t say that their plans will work. They don’t make those promises. They say that this death comes closer to change than any of the others you have available, and we’ll all fight for it with you.

Marley’s hope is a lie that’s allowed to be called truth to bring in recruits.

Paradis’ hope is a tiny flicker in the far distance that’s almost unanimously regarded as a shared delusion by the people being fought for.

Zeke’s given up on it long before he ever knew about it.

That’s why he’ll never win against Levi.

It isn’t even a fight. Zeke runs, Levi wins because he catches him. Contact happens. Zeke loses.

Zeke has always been the one in control. He’s always been superior. He might have his issues with Grisha, but the belief that he’s special goes down to his roots. Only his blood relative (and whatever Xaver is, probably) is given the respect of hearing Zeke’s truest worldview. Everyone else couldn’t possible understand, after all.

Also worth a note is that even though Zeke says that Eren’s the only one who understands, that actually does not disprove the theory that mind control is involved, because Zeke has some really bizarrely fucked up beliefs about people’s autonomy. Eren could lose his pupils and go around saying, “Yes, Master Zeke,” and Zeke could still conceivably praise his baby brother for being on the right side.

I don’t know where I stand with all of that, since I still think that Eren is making his own (very stupid) choices, but it seems that it’s Zeke hour, so here’s the latest edition of Zeke being unreliable af as a narrator.

He calls the squad Levi killed “the poor things” when he’s the one who transformed them into titans.

Zeke’s a special snowflake douche who thinks that anything’s justified unless someone else is doing it.

Going by the ominous sunlight, Levi’s done with the middleman approach, and they’re off to see Historia.

Sooo. Options.

NPC Farmer Guy eats Zeke, Historia The Obviously Pregnant waits for her offspring to be born before she eats him in a few months.

Anticlimactic, heavy on convenience, low on Zeke and whatever his fucking plan is being revealed.

Levi and Historia fight so long about her eating Zeke while she’s pregnant that Zeke finds a way to escape.

Trite, overdone, and Zeke really sucks at running away from Levi except when

Pieck is there.

I still like this. I don’t feel that where Mikasa and Armin scrambled off to in a carriage was properly answered, and that means it’s likely that those carriages were heading to see the Queen, and since Pieck’s eyes were on them, heeeey.

Additionally, I remain of the opinion that Pieck is given too many clues about Zeke’s allegiances to be accidental. I don’t necessarily believe that she’s in on Zeke’s plan, but I believe he left the door open so she could be convinced to be part of his plan, and I think having her help Marley to the realization that Zeke is alive is well within Zeke’s contingencies.

He presumably knows Pieck better than he knows Levi. Otherwise, yeesh, we’ve got a grand mastermind who doesn’t actually understand anyone’s mind, and that would be so dull.

There is also a chance that Zeke’s plan aligns with what Marley wants just enough for Pieck to go with it for now. Or maybe Pieck’s given up on hope, too, and Zeke’s one of the few ways out, if only for shaking things up.

Alternatively,

Pieck is not there. Neither is Historia. 50/50 on NPC Farmer Guy being there, but badly wounded, only not because Levi is so Done that he’d probably feed Zeke to him, which I’m not even going to wait for the end of the bullet point to call idiotic and meaningless. His name’s NPC Farmer Guy for a reason.

Give me ????? allegiance Historia and give her fucking themes a chance to actually fucking matter to the fucking plot you fucking fucked up story.

Really fast now because I know people are done caring about me being angry about this: Since so much of this post has been dancing around the importance of consent as an aspect of sacrifice, I would like to point out that it’s very much been pro-consent, which means that if Historia actually is pregnant, I hope Zeke wins and every single character dies, because they’ve essentially ripped away a person’s agency before it’s even born to save their skins, and they can all go fuck themselves if they’re at that point.

(If you think I’m bad about this now, just wait until next month. I’ll repeat that verbatim probably, only with streamers and balloons with angry Sharpie marker eyes.)

...Oh. I guess I can’t shrink or cross this part out, because it’s actually to do with the story instead of my continued grievances. Damn it. Sigh.

Personal preferences aside (ha no not even a little), the thematic implications of Historia’s current narrative continue to infuriate, because it makes all the pretty words about the Survey Corps meaningless. They sacrifice themselves. They’re soldiers. They pick this. They have barely any choice at all, but they still make the choice and make it their own.

Breeding royal children sacrifices those children. The fact that it causes their mother pain, that it might be hard for the DNA providers, is something I feel is largely insignificant compared to that detail.

Because you know what happens when that’s how you think of a child?

Zeke.

Zeke is what happens.

SO YEAH GO AHEAD AND HAVE ANOTHER ROYAL KID WHO’S ONLY ALIVE BECAUSE OF THEIR SIGNIFICANT BLOOD I’M SURE IT WILL WORK OUT GREAT.

That kid’s going to be a person at some point. Counting on that person to not hate them?

To directly quote that person’s mother:

“Exterminate the Titans?! What a pain in the ass! Who’d volunteer to do that?! In fact, I think humanity’s the problem!! We should just let the Titans destroy mankind!”

In summary, your plan is bad because it’s morally bankrupt and directly opposes the ideals your organization has backed for a century moments after those ideals did something tangible for once.

What, fifteen-meter monsters are worth fighting, but a bunch of angry humans need to be scared into compliance because trying to make something better out of it is too hard?

I thought we all agreed we didn’t like Karl?

No?

If Historia’s really pregnant, and the plan to use her kid is still greenlit (still optimistically going with ‘if’) Paradis deserves Zeke. The only question is if they get current!Zeke, or Reiss!Zeke.

....

Fine, so that wasn’t fast at all.

Meanwhile, to our left, we continue to find reasons why that quoted line of thought above is way more tempting than any of the higher moral values like five characters are still trying to keep track of.

As much damage as titans do, they’re just tools. On every single level, humans are driving the monstrosities forward. Humans are literally and figuratively the monsters, and really, if you spend enough time dwelling on that, Eren’s completely dead look starts making sense, because why the fuck do you even try for a scrap of light when people like Floch take a spark and douse it in gasoline to burn the house down?

Circling us back around to why the Survey Corps is where our protagonists are supposed to come home to roost.

Because the world (people) is so fucking cruel, but worth fighting for. There is a victory, there is a better, and lying down in the crap everyone else has made of it is not the way to get there.

-cough- Eren -cough-

Eren’s the original protagonist because he embodies that. If you don’t fight, you don’t win.

Simba. You are more than what you have become.

Once upon a time, Armin tells Eren about a body of water larger than anyone could harvest, made entirely of salt. It’s an unthinkable wonder to a child locked in a box, but Eren believes him, and one day, he sees it.

Once upon a time, Armin talks about diplomacy, and making peace with the world without war, and Eren shuts him down.

Not all fighting’s violence. That’s the most visible symptom of emotional revolution, but the fight Eren wanted all the people around him to have so badly when he was a child is that revolution, not stabbing slavers in the chest (though that’s important too).

Zeke’s stagnated. Whatever he has planned, however much it drastically changes the world, however imaginative and creative it is, he thinks he’s living in a world where certain things are inevitable. He’s jumped off the treadmill, but the meteor’s still going to hit the gym. He’s just chosen to rearrange the furniture to his liking before it all explodes.

...I say, still waiting for the actual reveal of what his detailed strategy napkin says. If it’s, “let’s gather all our enemies to this one island and step on them,” I’m going to be disappointed, and also argue that a lot of people on the island would be able to understand those intentions perfectly.

Blah.

Zeke being The Worst somehow hit critical mass for me with this chapter, but I still want to know what’s going on in the basement his head. As badly as he misjudges Levi, he’s methodical about every decision he’s making. His plan might not be justifiable, but I’d be surprised if it made no sense, or didn’t look really good in some shades of light. Hearing it would be nice.

Flashback time with Real Dad Mister Xaver (CR, how sure are you that there’s no i in that) probably holds some key to that. Ugh.

Mean-fucking-while for real this time...

Oyyyyy.

Isayama has gotten better, on the whole, with every aspect of his writing.

His determination to drive the drill as deep into darkness as it’ll go at the kick off of each major arc remains... really unpleasant to read. I won’t go as far as to call it unrealistic, because wow humans, but I would argue that it’s routinely having characters roll 1s in their morality checks in order to bolster the ideals that the good guys value.

I don’t like it when stories make the strings that visible. People do get caught up in crap like this. It’s horrific, but this is a sudden drop into an area we’re unused to, with the narrative so plainly driving it home that these people are going too far that the sympathetic feelings that get them there are lacking.

Eren looking like the best choice to an island who feels they have no choices is understandable. Floch being convinced that you need a demon to win wars is understandable. Recruits groaning over learning how to fight titans when humans are their primary enemies (kiddos, learn how to fucking fight titans. the fact that the things are capable of existing should scare you into enough common sense to want that knowledge) is understandable.

But Yeagerists are chill with civilian deaths, collateral damage, poisoning key government leaders, and generally throwing their society into chaos for reasons of, “Eren is the only one who can save us!” while the audience is left looking at the pieces on the board and saying, “cool, but how? (also who cares when you guys are being this dickish)”

The divide in methods and thinking is too stark for the Yeagerists to come across as a force recognizable as anything besides angry children who are due to get smacked down. They’re 2013 parody of fandom perception of Eren personified.

Which. is not an unthinkable development, but it makes the bad things people do a lot harder to read when the driving force of character reasoning is flouting the banner of power and glory they’re gathering behind.

I actually feel oddly weird complaining about it now that I’m actually retreading it all. I don’t mind the fact that the wrongness of what the Yeagerists represent is so candid. I might have criticisms of the graceless way it’s written, but on the other hand...

The idea that these people are awful, and encouraging people who might not be that dipped in darkness to strip and get their feet wet, is maybe better than giving the kind of thinking they’re backing the time of day. Understanding how they all get there might smooth out the writing, buuuuut.

Destroying their old enemy turned some of their own into enemies, and the challenge, again and always, for the Survey Corps, is to want better in an environment that has given up on better in favor of glory.

In some ways, having these people be undeniably wrong, no matter how they got there, is somewhat refreshing.

As graceful as a damn anvil, which will continue to annoy, but. Yeah, sure, refreshing. Gracelessness is part of Attack on Titan’s charm.

Really fucking dark read, though.

Next month should be the end of the volume.

No matter what happens, I think we can all agree no one is prepared, and drinking will make everything worse.

[dailyfeartwdgifs]

Fear The Walking Dead Season 5, Episode 2 Review: 'The Hurt That Will Happen' 

Fear The Walking Dead has gone all Chernobyl in its fifth season, introducing us to a new region impacted by a nuclear plant meltdown. Radioactive zombies roam the land and various mysterious clues point toward a new, highly organized group that's almost certainly related to the people who took Rick Grimes away in Season 9 of The Walking Dead. 

I was not a big fan of Fear The Walking Dead's Season 5 premiere, breaking with my fellow critics, all of whom apparently really liked the episode. (It had a 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes until they added my review into the mix, dropping it down to a 93%). 

I hate to rain on anyone's parade (well, that's not strictly true) but I can't help speaking my mind. I'm a critic, not a sycophant. The Season 5 premiere wasn't the worst episode this show has ever produced, but the characters are just so ridiculous at this point, and the entire premise ("We're here to help!") is astonishingly lame and contrived. It becomes hard to watch without a great deal of eye-rolling. 

This Sunday's episode, the awkwardly titled "The Hurt That Will Happen", isn't much better. There are still too many instances of characters behaving like idiots and the whole thing remains brutally boring—and honestly, a show with radioactive zombies shouldn't be boring! I don't think people were quite as stupid this week as last—nobody flew a plane they had no idea how to pilot, crash-landing in a completely unknown region in order to "help" some guy they "met" on the radio. That's so egregiously moronic that it pretty much ruined last week's episode right out of the gates. I don't think people were quite as stupid this week as last—nobody flew a plane they had no idea how to pilot, crash-landing in a completely unknown region in order to "help" some guy they "met" on the radio. That's so egregiously moronic that it pretty much ruined last week's episode right out of the gates.

But we still have plenty of stupid in Episode 2. Luciana, for instance, decides to go outside by herself to see what a large crashing noise was. I can understand taking a quick peak—it was the radio tower, blown over by non-existent wind or maybe wind that only blows over large objects, skipping over more mundane things like human hair—but then she just stays outside. In the dark. By herself, injured and alone. 

When zombies approach, she doesn't hurry back inside to safety, the clear and obvious thing to do when you're injured and on meds that impact your cognitive functions. Instead she pulls out her gun and tries to shoot the walkers. I get that she was doped up and not thinking clearly, but even in a doped up state your first instinct is going to be running away because people on painkillers usually do understand that they're not at their best. Luciana knew perfectly well that she wasn't going to be a great fighter in her current state. The only conceivable reason why she'd stay outside to fight walkers is because the show is actively trying to make her (and every other character) look stupid. She makes it back, but only just barely. The pursuing walkers are later decapitated by someone—it's a mystery—their heads hung up as some kind of warning to the survivors (helpers?). 

While all this is going on, Morgan and Alicia are out trying to find Al who went missing last week when she stupidly went out at night in the rain all alone to investigate the weird armored zombie and got knocked out by someone. Maybe the same someone who cut off those heads, maybe someone else. Either way, not Al's shining moment. (Later, Daniel says that Al can take care of herself, but I'm not so sure). 

In any case, Morgan gets into a scuffle with a zombie and is suddenly tripped up by a set of bolas that someone threw at him. I had to watch it twice to fully tell what just happened. It's a pretty weird weapon to have especially for this new character. The zombie is making things tough on Morgan but then a gun goes off and a stranger dressed in a gas mask and protective science-uniform-outfit shows up and tells him to take his clothes off and stop talking. She doesn't have time to explain, but basically the zombies are radioactive and he needs to get cleaned up right away or he could get radiation poisoning just from making physical contact with them. 

She tells him to be quiet because apparently talking can make it worse, and when he keeps asking questions she raises her gun and says something about not wanting to do it this way—so I guess she was going to shoot him for talking? In order to help him? I'm confused. I guess it doesn't matter what she was about to do because Alicia comes in like a bat out of hell and knocks her to the ground, demanding where she took Al. She tells them about the nuclear plant meltdown and the radiation zombies that she's hunting down. Morgan gets cleaned up and spends the rest of the episode in a "Don't Mess With Texas" shirt which is pretty funny. 

Alicia gets in a fight with some zombies, some of which are radioactive and some who aren't—"I can't tell which is which!" she cries out at one point after the zombies get all muddy. She has a gun because she took it from the nuclear plant lady, but for some strange reason she doesn't use it. She ends up tossing it back to the lady because I guess you're not allowed to fire someone else's gun in the zombie apocalypse. I just don't know anymore. It's a close call for Alicia who, well, handled the whole thing pretty poorly for no reason whatsoever. 

Not long after, John Dorie and June radio them (what would they do in this show without all these radios?) and tell them they've found more of the radioactive zombies, all burned in a pile. So they head over there to deal with it and June finds a car that starts up just fine and has three-quarters of a tank of gas. How convenient for them! 

Still, they're all waiting on Strand to find a second plane to come save them with because I guess driving is just not an option for some reason. Seriously, can someone please let me know why driving to get them isn't on the table? Strand and his trucker pals have a truck and an endless supply of gas. Just go drive to wherever they are and pick them up. Yes, it will take longer to drive. The silver lining, however, is that driving won't result in yet another plane crash. Nobody can fly a plane! 

Hasn't anyone pointed this out yet? Haven't they all learned that flying a plane when you don't know how is a bad idea? Do they ever sit around and talk about actually important stuff or is all dialogue reserved for Morgan's preachy mumbo jumbo about being "stuck" and not having to be, and opening doors and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz . . . 

Fortunately, when Strand goes to visit Daniel, the grouchy realist doesn't lend him his plane. "Whenever you try to help people, you make things worse," he tells Strand, and he's not wrong. Certainly taking the plane and trying to fly it would end badly. Daniel tells Strand that if he sees him again he'll shoot him in the face. I really do love Daniel, but I'm not sure how he'll figure in to the rest of the season, unless Strand plans some kind of elaborate caper to steal the plane and Daniel is dragged back into all this nonsense against his will. 

Of course, by the time all that goes down they definitely could have driven to wherever Alicia and the rest of the team are, presumably still in Texas given Morgan's replacement shirt. They were going to drive all the way to Alexandria, they can drive to this place instead. Or they could all hop in June's car and drive themselves back home. This is what I mean when I say I just can't get behind this season's premise or overarching narrative. It's stupid to fly a plane when you don't know how, especially if you're doing it to go "rescue" complete strangers. It's far too risky for any sane person, and it's far too stupid for any thinking person with half a brain. The show's producers and writers ignore all that for the spectacle and for the fake conflict it creates. 

What fake conflict? Well, the notion that Alicia and her crew are stuck, first of all. They can find cars with gas easily enough and drive themselves home. Second, the notion that Strand needs to find a second plane—which just so happens to be with Daniel, the guy that hates Strand more than anyone—is a fake conflict. Strand could also simply drive to his friends using his trucker buddies. The whole Strand meeting up with Daniel thing is also ridiculously contrived. Al has apparently met every single possible survivor of the apocalypse. Better still, every survivor from the dam just happened to end up hundreds of miles away in Texas. What luck! 

The final fake conflict is only fake because of all the contrivances and nonsense used to get us to this point. I'm speaking of Logan (Matt Frewer) and his little prank. He tricked Alicia and Morgan into leaving the mill unguarded and then swooped in when they left. It's a clever idea and I'd have no problem with it if it didn't require all the protagonists to be such monumentally foolish people. Sometimes being foolish or making a poor choice creates a real conflict, because sometimes smart people do stupid things. Think Robb Stark and his poor choices with the Freys in Game of Thrones. That had consequences. But if Game of Thrones built all its conflicts around characters acting uncharacteristically stupid, it would get old very quickly. Robb's mistake was falling in love and that's pretty relatable. Our heroes in Fear made a much less relatable mistake with the plane (etc). 

Creating contrived conflicts based on characters acting like idiots seems to be the narrative strategy in Fear The Walking Dead in virtually all of its seasons except Season 3. Because let's be honest: Fear The Walking Dead did not have a great first or second season. Madison caused far too much trouble everywhere she went to be considered a good leader. I always think back to the episode when they showed up at that island and Madison was convinced that the best idea would be for her to take the family's kids away from them and then pretty much everyone died in a totally unnecessary disaster. By the end of Season 2 I thought they should just cancel it and start over, and then I ate my words when Season 3 was so good. 

Season 3 crafted a much more interesting conflict between the Native Americans and the survivalists. It was over water and land and nobody was clearly good or clearly evil. I loved how much the show improved in Season 3 and I'm just so bummed out that it's gone so far (back) downhill first in Season 4 and now Season 5. Season 4 had such a promising first few episodes, too, but quickly lost its way. Now we're two episodes deep into Season 5 and it's just . . . not very good. It's not as bad as it was during the Martha episodes, but it really should be so much better. AMC really needs to hire more talented writers and producers for this show. The acting is largely fine, the special effects are good, the cinematography and directing are typically fine. It's the scripts, the story, the constant stupidity and inconsistencies, that drag into down into the zombie muck. Mostly it's just dull and frustrating to watch. Hopefully things pick up next week.

[charlijah]

Unleash the Beast: pt. 8 UNLEASHED

When Elijah arrives onsite he remains outside the perimeter studying the layout and placement of guards. He picks his way around the perimeter taking out guards one by one. When he is confident he has removed all of the threats on the outside he still remains in the shadows studying. He can afford no mistakes.

“Brother, would you please allow us to help you,” Klaus asks.

“Niklaus, I’m going to kill every single one of them that laid a finger on my son,” he says through gritted teeth as he tries desperately to control himself.

“Elijah?” Charlotte’s voice is soft and low. He hears the fear and the pain in her voice. Whatever was left intact of his heart shatters in that moment. He turns to pull her against him.

“I’m here my love,” Elijah whispers against her ear. “I’m here.” The couple clings to each other as silent tears stream.

“Elijah, I know you’ve cleared the perimeter. What would you like us to do next?”

“They have,” he pauses as his voice cracks. “EJ is on the second floor. There are guards with him but he seems ok. He isn’t tied up and doesn’t appear to have been injured.”

“Charlotte, If we keep the rest of them busy downstairs do you think you can get to EJ and get him out?”

“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation. “Just take care of him for me Niklaus,” she whispers against Elijah’s cheek. “I can’t loose either of them tonight.”

“I will be fine love,” Elijah assures her.

“I’m concerned that I might loose you to the darkness. Please don’t let it win Elijah. EJ and I need you. The you that is only lethal when defending his family and would choose compulsion over killing. The real you.”

Elijah takes a deep breath and squeezes her to him.

“I give you my word Charlotte. No matter what happens in the next little while, when we have our son back, you will have the husband you know and the father he needs.”

“Thank you for that,” she whispers as she kisses his cheek. ���Now, lets get our son.”

———————-

Klaus and Elijah walk onto porch of the old house eliminating anyone who tries to stop them. When they reach the front door and find it locked they laugh as Klaus kicks it in. They walk into the foryer and see Tristan and Lucien on the balcony overlooking them.

“Where is my son?”

The question is loud enough for anyone inside to hear him.

“Dad!”

“EJ! It’s ok son. Uncle Niklaus and I are here to get you.”

“Why do you insist on calling him your son? You haven’t adopted him and you can’t procreate,” Tristan says with a laugh.

“Oh he is his son Tristan. That boy is my blood. That lovely witch that was with him used a spell that allowed them to conceive. She used other magic to hide him and keep him safe, even from us until a few weeks ago.”

Several of the vampires in the room suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

“This boy really is the biological son of an Original and was kidnapped?”

“Yes,” Elijah replies through gritted teeth. “My wife and I did not know about him till recently and then they had the unmitigated gaul to break into our home, kill his caretaker and steal him from us.”

Mumbling filled the room. “Look, we didn’t know the boy was yours or that he was kidnapped. We were just told he was with them and you were coming to take him. We want nothing to do with this.”

“Those of you who leave now will be allowed to do so and live. If you stay you will be shown no mercy or forgiveness.”

Many of those gathered in the house left immediately. All that remains are members of the Stryx and a handful of others. Lucien walks out on the balcony holding EJ to him.

“Dad!”

“EJ! Son, I need you to do something for me. Close your eyes and do not open them until I tell you to. Promise me.”

“Yes sir. I promise,” and with that the boy closes his eyes.

Elijah smiles as EJ obeys and then looks around the house.

“Gentlemen? Shall we?”

And with those 3 words a fury such as even hell itself could not rival bursts forth from the elegant Original. The closest thing to his ire was that of his brother.

The pair ripped and tore their way through anything that came near them. It was a gruesome and gory battle that saw hearts ripped out, heads torn off as well as other limbs and a terrible sound of anger and fury that was unmatched by even nature’s most severe storms.

During the turmoil Charlotte made her way up behind Lucien and punched through his back and grabbed his heart. He immediately released EJ who sank to the floor. Charlotte turned Lucien’s body enough so he could see who held his life literally in her hand.

“How dare you’re filthy, disgusting, vile hands touch my sweet little boy!?!”

Whatever response he intended to make is lost as she brutally tears his heart out and drops it at her feet. She picks up EJ as she whispers comfort to him. She uses her speed and stops on the front porch.

“I have him. Let’s go home.”

Elijah looks and sees his wife and son on the porch and motions for them to go. Charlotte complies but only because she can see there are still many fighting inside. He turns and makes it a point to locate Tristan who is trying to slip out.

Elijah is in front of him a second later with his heart in his fist. Tristan looks down at his chest and then up at Elijah.

“I didn’t think...”

“You have never known me Tristan, even though you have presumed to do so for centuries. The one thing that will never change about me is that I put my family above all others.”

With that he unceremoniously rips the heart from Tristan’s chest. As he drops it to the floor he looks around the room. It looks like something from a horror movie.

“Come on brother, let’s get you home and cleaned up so you can see your son.”

Tag list: @heythereelejah @adaptablecharm @idkhaylijah @taylordrunkonwhiskey

[carcinoaquarium]

OK, SO FIRST I'M GOING TO GET THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION OUT OF THE WAY. THE QUESTION THAT WE'VE ALL BEEN ASKING. THE TRUE, BURNING MYSTERY OF DREAM DADDY A DADDY DATING SIMULATOR.

...

...

...

WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A FUCKING DOG?????????????SDFJADFJSDFK';SDKLFPER

NO.

SERIOUSLY. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO CONCEIVABLE REASON WHY DADSONA AND AMANDA DON'T HAVE A WOOF BEAST. THEY'RE BOTH OBSESSED WITH BARK MONSTERS. OBVIOUSLY NEITHER OF THEM HAS AN ALLERGY BECAUSE THEY'RE BOTH TOUCHING DROOL DEMONS ALL THE GOD DAMNED TIME. DADSONA EVEN SAYS HE'LL MAYBE GET ONE *AFTER* AMANDA LEAVES TO KEEP HIM COMPANY.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE??? WHAT'S STOPPING YOU???

UGH. WHATEVER.

ONWARD.

BEFORE STARTING THE GAME, I WOULD HAVE RANKED MY INTEREST IN THE DADS AS FOLLOWS:

AFTER  PLAYING, MY LIST HAS SHIFTED DRASTICALLY:

SO RIGHT OFF THE OBLONG SPORTS HITTING IMPLEMENT, JUST A MINOR THING THAT BUGGED BOTH ME AND ERIDAN: WHY ARE ALL THESE DADS ALWAYS BLUSHING AND GIGGLING? THE BLUSHING I CAN FORGIVE IN SOME PLACES, BUT THEY USE IT A LOT. THE GIGGLING THOUGH? 

I WISH I SCREENCAPPED ALL THE TIMES IT HAPPENS TO SHOW YOU JUST HOW PREVALENT IT IS. THEY *ALL* GIGGLE AT LEAST ONCE. EVEN ROBERT. NEVER DO THEY CHUCKLE, BELLY LAUGH, NEVER EVEN FUCKING CHORTLE. ALWAYS *GIGGLE*. I MEAN ONE OF THESE GUYS HAS TO SNORT-LAUGH AS UGLY AS ME, RIGHT??? I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU BUT "GIGGLING" IS FUCKING CREEPY COMING OUT OF SOME PEOPLE. DIDN'T THAT BOTHER ANYONE ELSE? JUST US? OK THEN.

MOVING ON.

MY MAIN CRITICISM OF THIS GAME TIES IN WITH ONE OF THE THINGS I LIKE *MOST* ABOUT IT. IS THAT CONFUSING? OF COURSE IT IS. EVERYTHING WITH ME HAS TO BE FUCKING DIFFICULT.

SEE, I LOVE AMANDA. SHE’S AN AWESOMELY WRITTEN CHARACTER AND HER DYNAMIC WITH HER DAD IS PRICELESS, REALISTIC AND FUCKING FUNNY AS GLOBES. THE RELATIONSHIP IS BUILT UP SO WELL THAT TRYING TO GET THE “WORLD’S OKAYEST DAD” ACHIEVEMENT IS NOTHING SHORT OF EMOTIONAL SUICIDE. IT’S PERFECT.

TOO PERFECT. AND THE ROMANCE PART OF THE SIM SUFFERS FOR IT.

YES, I UNDERSTAND THAT REALISTICALLY, AMANDA IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE DADSONA’S LIFE. CONSIDER THE FACT THAT THEY PURPOSELY HAD HER AT HIVE-LEAVING AGE SO SHE COULD BE LEFT ALONE WHILE DAD GOES ON DATES. DESPITE THIS, SHE STILL TAGS ALONG FOR WAY TOO MANY OF THE DATES AND IN THE END, WE DON’T GET TO EXPERIENCE INTIMACY WITH MOST OF THE DADS IN THE WAY A NORMAL DATING SIM/ROMANCE STORY WOULD LET US. BY THE THIRD DATE WITH MANY OF THE DADS, I FEEL LIKE I HAVEN’T BEEN ROMANCING SO MUCH AS GOING ON PLAY DATES. AND THEN IT’S SUDDENLY *BOOM*, SLOPPY MAKEOUTS. 

I MEAN, IT FEELS SO SUDDEN WITH NO BUILD UP. NONE OF IT SERVES ANY PURPOSE EITHER. EVEN WITH AMANDA TAGGING ALONG, YOU NEVER FEEL LIKE THE DADS YOU DATE BOND AT ALL WITH HER, NOR DOES SHE REALLY SHOW ANY INTEREST IN THEM. AT MOST SHE'S UNEASY AROUND HUGO BECAUSE HE'S HER TEACHER, AND SCHEMES WITH DAISY TO GET BRIAN AND DADSONA TO STOP ONE-UPPING EACH OTHER. IN FACT, SHE DAMN NEAR SEEMS TO IGNORE THE FACT THAT YOU'RE 'DATING' THESE GUYS. SHE JUST THINKS YOU'RE LEARNING TO BE SOCIABLE. THERE'S NO CONNECTION BETWEEN AMANDA AND THE DREAM DADDIES. WHICH WOULD BE FINE IF THEY DIDN'T MAKE A POINT OF HAVING HER BE SO INVOLVED WITH THE DATES!

THAT’S WHY BRIAN IS AT THE BOTTOM OF MY LIST.

AND

THAT’S WHY CRAIG AND ROBERT MADE IT TO THE TOP OF MY LIST.

AH, CRAIG. THE JOCK THING DEFINITELY PUT ME OFF AT FIRST AND AS A RESULT HE WAS THE SECOND TO LAST DAD I PLAYED. SO WHAT MADE ME DO SUCH A ROMANTIC ONE-EIGHTY ON THIS GUY? DADSONA KNOWS CRAIG FROM SWEEPS BEFORE AND HAS SHARED A CLOSE BOND WITH HIM. THE ROMANCE FEELS LIKE IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN SOMETHING BUBBLING UNDER THE SURFACE FOR A LONG TIME, AND ONLY NOW, WHEN YOU’RE BOTH IN A POSITION TO FULLY GO FOR IT, CAN IT TRULY BLOSSOM. THESE TWO WERE FRIENDS, ROOMATES, AND BROS. IT GROWS NATURALLY FROM THERE.

I HAVE A FUCKING SOFTSPOT FOR BROMANCES THAT BLOOM INTO REDROM OK??? IT’S KIND OF MY THING. I’M SO CONFUSED.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ROBERT! NOW THIS IS WHAT I’M USED TO.

-- I MEAN PLAYING ROMANCE SIMS AND WATCHING ROMANTIC MOVIES AND READING 

OH WHO AM I FUCKING KIDDING?

ANYWAY, WITH ROBERT IT’S MORE YOUR CLASSIC “SAVE HIM” ROMANCE. HERE’S AN ONION WITH... LAYER. HE’S BROKEN, BUT NOT SO MUCH THAT IT’S OBNOXIOUS. HE’S FUNNY. HE’S VULNERABLE. HE’S DANGEROUS. BUT NOT REALLY. AND MOST IMPORTANTLY? HIS DAUGHTER IS ESTRANGED AND AMANDA DOESN’T TAG ALONG. IT FEELS LIKE A GROWN UP ROMANCE. IT’S FREE TO BUILD ON THAT. AND IN THE END, I FELT CLOSER TO ROBERT THAN MOST OF THE OTHER DADS. OF COURSE HE HAD TO GO AND RUIN IT AT THE END, BUT WHATEVER. STILL BETTER ROMANCE VALUE.

NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DARK HOOFBEAST OF MY LIST:

HUGO FUCKING SURPRISED THE HELL OUT OF ME BECAUSE I REALLY DIDN’T EXPECT TO LIKE HIM AT ALL. EVEN AFTER THE FIRST DATE I WAS STILL BORED OUT OF MY PAN. BUT THEN HE MAKES THE BIG REVEAL. HE LOVES WRESTLING. MISTER STUFFY ACADEMIC IS A WRESTLING FREAK. AND HE SHARES THAT WITH YOU. HE GETS SO FUCKING EXCITED THAT YOU’RE COOL WITH IT AND YOU ACTUALLY GET TO HAVE SOME FUN. THAT COMBINED WITH THE TRIVIA NIGHTS MADE HUGO’S SECOND TWO DATES SOME OF THE MOST ENTERTAINING. AGAIN, BECAUSE YOU SPEND THE DATES FOCUSED ON HUGO AND NOT ON EITHER OF YOUR KIDS, IT MEANT THAT A PERSONAL CONNECTION COULD DEVELOP. THE ROMANCE FELT REAL BY THE END.

NOW, THIS IS GOING TO SOUND WEIRD COMING FROM A TROLL WHOSE WORLD DOESN’T HAVE IDIOTIC TABOOS ABOUT GENDER AND ROMANCE, BUT DID ANYONE ELSE THINK IT WAS KIND OF SAD HOW A GAME THAT WAS SUPPOSEDLY TRYING TO APPEAL TO HOMOSEXUAL MALES INCLUDED ONLY ONE DAD WHO WAS CONFIRMED TO HAVE A MALE PARTNER BEFORE DADSONA? HUGO. HUGO IS THE ONLY ONE. BRIAN AND DAMIEN’S PAST PARTNERS ARE UNKNOWN, BUT EVERYONE ELSE WAS IN A “STRAIGHT” QUADRANT BEFOREHAND. AND YET EVERYONE ALREADY ASSUMES EVERYONE ELSE IS “GAY”.

AND YES. I KNOW HUMAN PROCREATION GENERALLY NEEDS BOTH GENDERS BUT STILL. IT’S NOT LIKE A WORLD WHERE A BUNCH OF SINGLE DADS ALL LIVE IN THE SAME HIVE CLUSTER AND MEET ON A “DADBOOK” IS AN ACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF REAL LIFE.

SO HUGO SHARING CUSTODY WITH HIS EX-HUSBAND WAS COOL. HUGO WAS COOL. HUGO’S REVEAL WAS COOL. 

WHICH LEADS ME TO DAMIEN AND HIS SIMILAR "REVEAL". 

THE THING I LIKED ABOUT DAMIEN WAS HOW PASSIONATE HE WAS ABOUT HIS LOVE OF VICTORIAN HISTORY AND THE GOTH AESTHETIC. HE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT MOST PEOPLE THINK HE'S WEIRD, BUT HE DOESN'T LET THAT STOP HIM. HE'S BEING TRUE TO HIMSELF AND LOVING IT. UNLIKE HUGO, HE'S NOT ASHAMED OR EMBARRASSED OF HIS PASSION. HE OWNS IT. I LOVED THAT.

WHICH MAKES THIS "REVEAL" PAN-FUCKINGLY CONFUSING.

BY THE TIME THE GAME HITS YOU WITH ANIMAL SHELTER DAMIEN, HE'S ALREADY SPENT TWO WHOLE DATES SHOWING YOU HOW HAPPY HE IS BEING ABLE TO EXPRESS HIMSELF AS A VICTORIAN GOTH. HE'S STYLED HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE AROUND THIS PASSION. HIS CLOTHING, HIS MANNER OF TALKING, HIS FUCKING HIVE AND GARDEN. A VERY SUBTLE BUT MEANINGFUL ALLEGORY HAS BEEN LAID DOWN THAT SHOWS US HOW DAMIEN KNOWS THAT BEING TRUE TO HIMSELF COMES WITH SOCIETAL CONSEQUENCES. IT WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER TO JUST BE "NORMAL" FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYONE ELSE'S DELICATE SENSIBILITIES AND PREJUDICES, AND YET HE DOESN'T KOWTOW TO THAT PRESSURE. AND SO BY DATING DAMIEN, DADSONA GETS TO SHOW HIM THAT HE LOVES AND ACCEPTS ALL OF THAT. AND MOST OF ALL *ADMIRES* THE BRAVERY IT TAKES TO BE DIFFERENT IN A WORLD THAT TRIES SO FUCKING HARD TO TEAR DOWN THOSE WHO DARE TO BE.

SO WHEN DAMIEN FINALLY "REVEALS" TO DADSONA THAT HE VOLUNTEERS AT THE LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER, THE NARRATIVE MAKES A BIG MISTAKE. SUDDENLY DAMIEN "SECRETLY" LISTENS TO BRUCE SPINGSTIEN AND WEARS TENNIS SHOES. IT SEEMS TO HEAVILY IMPLY THAT THE PERSONA DAMIEN IS ACTUALLY AFRAID TO SHOW THE WORLD IS HIS ANIMAL SHELTER SELF, WHICH FUTHER IMPLIES THAT HIS TRUE SELF IS ANIMAL SHELTER DAMIEN AND NOT GOTH DAMIEN. IT GETS NEEDLESSLY COMPLICATED HERE. OBVIOUSLY DAMIEN WOULD NOT BE ALLOWED TO DRESS IN GOTH ATTIRE AT THE SHELTER, SO THAT'S NO UNIVERSE SHATTERING REVEAL. THE GAME IS TRYING TO SAY THAT DAMIEN IS WORRIED THAT YOU WON'T LIKE HIM NOW THAT YOU'VE SEEN HIM UN-GOTHIFIED.

WHICH, SURE, I CAN SEE WHAT THEY WERE KIND OF GOING FOR. IT *IS* A SHOCK TO SEE HIM OUT OF GOTH CLOTHING. BUT IT'S NOT LIKE CLOTHING IS LITERALY STITCHED ONTO PEOPLE. CLOTHING COMES OFF. THERE'S A "NORMAL" NAKED PERSON UNDER EVERY GOTH'S ATTIRE. BUT WASN'T THE POINT OF ALL THIS THAT DAMIEN'S TRUE SELF IS BEING A VICTORIAN GOTH? THE LESS SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE THING? WHY THEN DOES HE SHAMEFULLY ADMIT TO LOVING NON-GOTH MUSIC AND HAVING A CLOSET FULL OF TENNIS SHOES? DOES HE WANT YOU TO HELP HIM BECOME THE PURPLE-POLO-SHIRT-LOVING NORM HE ALWAYS WANTED TO BE? CAN GOTHS NOT ALSO BE SHELTER VOLUNTEERS AND GOOD WITH COMPUTERS?? WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, DAMIEN???? WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???

THE THIRD DATE IS SPENT IN AWKWARD TENSION WHILE YOU TRY TO HELP DAMIEN FIND THIS LOST WOOFBEAST (WHICH, IF YOU FAIL, MAKES HIM HATE YOU I GUESS???). NO TIME IS GIVEN TO DISCUSSING WHAT'S JUST HAPPENED OR WHAT DAMIEN WANTS YOU TO KNOW ABOUT HIS TRUE SELF. IF THE MESSAGE OF DAMIEN'S STORY IS "BE TRUE TO YOURSELF", WE'RE LEFT WONDERING WHICH OF THESE SELVES DAMIEN IS TRYING TO BE TRUE TO. THIS IS MADE EVEN WORSE BY THE FACT THAT DAMIEN COMES TO AMANDA'S PARTY DRESSED IN HIS ANIMAL SHELTER ATTIRE. WHAT DOES HUGO COME TO AMANDA'S PARTY WEARING? HIS GOOFY WRESTLING SHIRT. HE'S COMFORTABLE WITH WHO HE IS. YOU HELPED HIM GET THERE. SO AM I SUPPOSED TO ASSUME I HELPED DAMIEN... BE COMFORTABLY NOT GOTH?

SEE, IT JUST DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY AROUND. WHY? BECAUSE BEING THE VICTORIAN GOTH IS BY FAR THE HARDER THING TO BE IN PUBLIC. YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE IS HARD TO BE IN PUBLIC?

TRANSGENDER.

DO YOU KIND OF SEE WHY THIS ANALOGY GOT FUCKED UP?

IF BEING OPENLY GOTH = BEING OPENLY TRANS, AND DRESSING "NORMAL" = PRESENTING AS THE GENDER HE WAS DESIGNATED AT BIRTH... WHY DO YOU COME TO AMANDA'S PARTY DRESSED LIKE THAT, DAMIEN? WHO ARE YOU? I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE.

AND EVEN IF THEY WEREN'T TRYING TO USE THE GOTH THING AS A METAPHOR, IT'S STILL FUCKING DISAPPOINTING AND AWKWARD. KNOWING DAMIEN IS SECRETLY "A NORMAL GUY" ADDS NOTHING TO HIS DEVELOPMENT OR TO HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH DADSONA.

THAT'S WHY HUGO DID IT BETTER.

AND I HATE SAYING THAT BECAUSE I THINK DAMIEN IS AN AWESOME CHARACTER. HIS STORY JUST FELL FLAT.

OH, AND BEFORE I TOTALLY DROP THE SUBJECT OF DAMIEN I'D JUST LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT INSTEAD OF MAKING MY FUCKING SPONGE SPIN FROM ALL THIS IDENTITY FUCKERY, DAMIEN'S AMIMAL SHELTER CENTRIC THIRD DATE COULD HAVE BEEN THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO... I DON'T KNOW... MAYBE LET DADSONA AND AMANDA FUCKING ADOPT A DOG???? BECAUSE NNNNGGGSEAFSDFASDFSDF THEY LOVE DOGS????????

THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE FULFILLING. WHY DON'T THEY LET ME WRITE THIS SHIT?

EW.

SO THAT ABOUT WRAPS IT UP FOR PART TWO AND MY WAY-MORE-IN-DEPTH-THAN-ANYONE-WANTED-OR-NEEDED HOLE RIPPING OF DREAM DADDY. I’VE THOROUGHLY EXHAUSTED MYSELF AND ERIDAN WITH THIS ENDEAVOR.

WHICH IS WHY IN THE FINAL INSTALLMENT, PART THREE, I AM GOING TO SHARE THE LAST AND MOST *TREMENDOUSLY* AWFUL THING I DID WITH DREAM DADDY.

I’M GOING TO GO PASS OUT NOW.