#he contradicted himself every new chapter and literally nothing he said followed on from what he said before

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

you ever watch an entire video essay and come out of it literally not knowing what the conclusion was meant to be, and find yourself yearning for like 2017 when it didnt feel like everyone and their nan were making video essays?

[husbandograveyard]

Chapter II: The Stem

Chapter Summary: So, you’re interning with Hawks. And he’s even more perfect from up close. If only it weren’t so hard to actually get close. 

Chapter Warnings: Pining, secondhand embarrassment, tiniest mention of blood. 

Word Count: 2.5k 

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Even though your love had been growing for a pretty long time, it was now in a deep slumber. Sometimes, to wake something up, a good shaking is needed. But sometimes, a single moment can be enough already. 

In your hero training, you had learned very early on that nerves were not necessarily a bad thing. The adrenaline could be used to push yourself a little bit past your limits every time you felt your heart thumping in your chest and the blood rushing through your veins. Nervousness, much like fear, was just a bodily response to a situation, a way of your body telling you ‘Okay, we’re ready for whatever is coming’. 

Only today you weren’t facing a villain, quite the opposite. You were literally about to meet your hero, and you were more nervous about it than you thought you would be. 

It was still remotely quiet on the streets. It was way too early for most people to be out yet. You weren’t exactly sure as to why Hawks would let an intern start this early, but you had mentally chuckled at your own thought of Hawks being an early morning bird. Maybe that would be a perfect joke to crack to diffuse any nervous tension, or maybe that was a terrible idea. You didn’t even know if you would be able to speak properly the moment you’d come face to face to the man that you had been trying to meet again for such a long time. 

You slipped your phone in your pocket after checking the time for the sixth time that morning. Being a little early was considered polite, being half an hour too early was not. You didn’t want to come across as a nervous over-achiever who couldn’t even read a clock properly, but you had to admit that you hadn’t been able to close an eye that night, and had decided to get up and get ready earlier than anticipated, thus arriving at Hawks’ agency building more than an hour early. 

‘Time for another walk around the block’ you told yourself as you turned to the side to walk around the block once more. If anything, you were getting a good idea of what the general neighborhood around the agency looked like, something that could only help you if you were to patrol around the agency soon.

“L/n Y/n?” 

You had barely taken a step to get started on your fourth walk for the morning when you heard a familiar yet strange voice call out your name. Your head whipped around to look at the source of the sound, only to see him standing there. 

“Mr Hawks! Sir!” You stumbled over your words, scrambling to turn around and bow at the same time to greet your new mentor. You felt the blood rush through your face, your heartbeat loud and clear in your ears as you tried to hide your embarrassment for the words you just said and the fact that you had been idling in front of his agency for long enough to be noticed. 

You heard him chuckle. You stood up straight again, only to see him dismissively wave his hand in front of him. “Oh please, none of those formalities. They make me feel incredibly old. Keigo is fine in here, just Hawks when we’re outside. We will be working together after all.”

You nodded eagerly, still a little shaken from the sudden confrontation. You were feeling starstruck, you were finally meeting your idol, your hero, but at the same time, there was still the familiarity of seeing the little boy from the hallway, all grown up. It gave you the weirdest feeling, a strange sense of déjà vu, a tingle that started in your stomach and then spread over your entire body. You couldn’t put a name on it, but it felt exciting. 

“I’m sorry I am so early.” 

“No worries, I have been here for a couple of hours already. Night shift.” 

You nodded again and followed him as he walked inside, but not before pointing up at a point a little above the door you had been idling in front of earlier. “The cameras picked you up about an hour ago, I recognized you immediately.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He recognized you? Could it be that he remembered you? Even after all those years? The mere idea made you feel all warm and fuzzy. 

“You really look exactly like the pictures on your resumé.” 

Your heart dropped as Hawks continued to speak, he didn’t even notice your sudden lift and drop in mood. It was over before he could even face your way. 

“Thought I’d come retrieve you and show you around before you were gone again walking around the block.” 

You laughed nervously, apologetically. You were feeling like a fool. Of course he wouldn’t recognize you. It had been years. He had been trained, became famous. He had met so many people, seen so many faces. Of course he’d forget someone he knew when he was five? seven? Even you had a hard time pinpointing the age you had been and the memories played in over and over in your head like a broken record. For him, they were probably nothing more than a blur, something that had to be erased from his memory to make room for things that were so much more important. 

Hawks showed you around the building. The agency didn’t employ a lot of people. “I am too fast for most sidekicks to keep up with, they’re more so a cleanup team than anything else.” There were a few offices: “The administrative team saves my life. They take over all the things that I simply don’t have the time for. But reports and such are important, they probably tell you that plenty at UA.” 

You could only nod and try and remember as much as you could before the tour ended. There was only one other person in the building besides you and Hawks, because you were so early, and the people taking the day shift would arrive a little later. Most other employees had been sent home for the day, the night shift had been very uneventful Hawks had told you and he had added that it was how it should be. 

He had shown you to a small office space, across the main office, where he sat. “Not often, because I rarely do my own paperwork. Most of what I do is patrols, the occasional actual hero work when crime happens and a whole lot of set work for magazines, commercials… those things.” That matched the image you had made up in your mind of him. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to waste away many hours behind a desk. None of the top pro heroes seemed the type to be honest, with a few exceptions like Nighteye maybe.

“Himari is the head of administration, she does most of my planning and such. I just check my phone calendar and she tells me where to be. You’ll spend quite a lot of time with her. You can wait in her office for now.”

You walked into the door that he held open, taking a seat across the neatly organized desk.  You turned around in your seat as you noticed Hawks not following. “I’m going home for a quick nap, I have some shoots in the afternoon. Good luck Y/n.”

With that, he closed the door and left you alone in the office. You had a few moments of silence, a few minutes of rest before the internship would turn into actual work, and you made great use of them to calm down. Nearly an hour had passed since Hawks had picked you up at the entrance and showed you around the agency. Time had flown by, and it had been hard to focus within Hawk’s presence. He seemed so easygoing, so laid back. A lot of his hero persona seemed genuine, and you found this a very attractive trait. And truth be told, his personality wasn’t the only attractive thing. 

You coughed to clear your throat and your own mind. You were here to grow as a hero. Surely, you had your ulterior motive of wanting to reconnect with your little childhood friend, but the more you thought about it now that you were here, the more that seemed like a bad idea. Your gut was contradicting your brain, because even the little contact just now was enough to make you crave more somehow. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by someone entering the office you were sitting in. A beautiful looking young woman entered and approached you to shake your hand.

“You must be y/n, I’m Himari.” 

You stood up, murmuring a “Nice to meet you” back as you shook her hand, a little disoriented from your thoughts being interrupted so suddenly.

“Welcome here. I will be your go-to for all your questions and concerns during your internship with Hawk’s agency. ”

“Thank you.” 

“I am assuming you want to spend as much time as possible with Hawks himself, and while I will be doing my best to assign you things that will allow you to work with him, I must warn you… He is a bit of a loner when it comes to hero work. He’s too fast for most to keep up with.” 

You nodded understandingly, Hawks was notorious for his speed and he had said it so himself earlier as well. You were still hoping there was some role left for you out in the field. You were by no means future top ten material, but you were definitely working hard enough to make a name for yourself in school. You were sure there were some ways in which you could even be useful to someone like Hawks. 

Himari continued: “that being said. Would you be up for some media work? It’s all part of being a hero too, and Hawks doesn’t mind some company when he’s out on set.” 

You blinked a couple times. While she was right, PR work was a lot of a pro’s job, you hadn’t even considered it being part of your internship. Especially not next to someone like Hawks. 

“I don’t… I-”

Himari laughed. “Oh don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. And it’ll be a great way to get your face out there for future job opportunities.” 

You nodded, because she was right. There was nothing to lose if you’d do this, and it seemed like the best way to actually spend time with Hawks. 

“You’re right, it’s a very good opportunity. I would like to try it out.” 

She nodded and grabbed a pen, moving behind her desk to scribble some things down.

“Well… other than that I have a variety of work for you. Do you have something to write with? Because this might be a lot to take in all at once.” 

You panicked a little. You had put a snack, some drinks and all the essentials in your bag to take with you, but pen and paper, something you’d never failed to bring to school, was something you now completely forgot to bring here. Your panic was only short lived when Himari slid a notebook and a pen across the desk for you to take. You mumbled a thanks as she started to list up all your possible tasks and what would be expected from you if they’d be assigned to you. 

The list seemed endless and your hand was a little sore when she finally stopped talking and you had a vague idea of all the things they could possibly ask from you. Nothing your training at UA hadn’t prepared you for, and yet, seeing it all stacked up like this in a nice list made it seem a little overwhelming. The most disappointing part of it all was the amount of tasks you had put a little star next to: the things where you would actually be working together with Hawks. 

The first couple of days you only ran into him sporadically, doing some patrols with another sidekick, filing reports, helping Himuri with contacting certain brands for advertising… Hawks stopped by your office twice to check up on you, and both those moments, you felt like you were on top of the world. Despite working very hard and most of the time not really doing the work you were hoping to do, the little moments you got to spend with him, where you were important enough to him to just come say hi to, made it all worth the hard work.  

Today’s meeting had been especially motivating. He sat on your desk, telling you that he had heard great things about Himari of your work. You could only smile and thank him profusely, your heart racing the moment he smiled and winked at you. “Let’s hope you do just as well on set tomorrow.”

You choked on air while trying to form a response and coughed a couple times. The wink had activated a whole new level of butterflies and you felt almost embarrassed to admit that at this point, you were actually developing a crush on your mentor, your childhood friend, even though he had no idea who you are besides a hardworking intern. You knew you’d be accompanying him on a commercial shoot the next day, you had not expected to actually get involved in the shooting. 

“I will do my best to not disappoint you si- I mean Hawks.”

He laughed. His eyes closed, shoulders shaking. A genuine laugh. It was a little loud, and with anyone else, you’d have thought it insincere. But from him, it was the best thing you’d heard in a while. 

“No need to be nervous, I’ll help you through it. After all, it’s only natural that I’d actually do some mentor work, right?” He smiled again, and you could only nod, clearing your throat as you tried to get rid of an itch that had persisted after the coughing fit. 

“I’ll leave you to your paperwork for now. I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” 

“I look forward to working with you tomorrow.”

“Oh and Y/n?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be an hour early, if you sleep in, you’ll make life easier for the people doing the make-up.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind him as you looked down at your paper in embarrassment. You knew he was kidding, but still felt a little ashamed every time he referenced the hour you had been waiting at the front door when you just started. You wiped away a droplet of spittle that had flown from your mouth in the earlier coughing fit, grabbing a tissue to clean the tiny spot from your desk. You were shocked to see the little patch on your tissue was red.

Taglist

@cathy8taffy  @kingdomseasalt @harley-the-cosplayer   @silenceofthecookies  @pinkhatlizzy  @franko-pop-3000​

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

I Lived

I finished it! So this is really all I had planned for this particular au, though I might include a bonus chapter or oneshot or whatever, depending on how you guys feel about this. It’s not really my favorite, and I’m realizing that a lot of my fics have a lot of holes in them but whatever, it’s good practice still haha. Anyway, this is the sequel to “I Died,” which should actually be probably the last story I posted on here. It’s been a very long time since I posted anything fic-wise, and for that I apologize! This guy’s a little longer to make up for that!

In other news, my life has finally got to a point where it’s calmed down and I have real time to be writing, so now all I need to push through is my motivation issues, which I can make no promises for, but I do promise I’m working hard to overcome it and make this more of a daily habit so that we can have more fanfics! Anyway, hope you enjoy the story!

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

So. Apparently sharing it now was not okay. What was he supposed to do when even Pidge was crying? Seriously, it had been so easy to cheer her up when they were in space, but no matter what he tried to say to convince her he was fine, she just kept tearing up again.

And sure, Lance had known that his friends cared, that they genuinely liked him and probably wouldn’t be happy if he died, but he really thought that had been more because. He was necessary.

He was a paladin, even if it did seem a little too much like he was a spare. Even spares were useful! Voltron was able to continue even after Keith left to find answers about his past, and Lance was half the reason that was possible! So obviously, he was useful.

But with that logic, the way that they all seemed upset and devastated so long after the fact didn’t make sense. And Lance appreciated it, he did. But it also… Just didn’t matter anymore. Obviously he’s fine, and he’s living life. And yet….

“Why didn’t Allura say anything?” Keith demanded again. Although it was probably the fourth or fifth time he had done so, Shiro just gave the same response.

“Keith, we don’t know how it affected her, too, maybe she was too shocked to say anything. From the sounds of it, that could’ve been her. It’s fair to assume she didn’t know how to handle it.”

“Or maybe she forgot,” Hunk muttered mutinously. Keith nodded quickly in agreement. Lance gaped.

“Who the hell are you and what happened to Hunk?” he asked. Hunk glared back, and it was so unexpected that Lance nearly flinched back before remembering this was his oldest friend. They may not have seen much of each other in the last year, but there was still no one that Lance trusted more.

“Lance, none of that is okay. You were really struggling, and the fact that Allura knew about even a portion of that and didn’t say anything to the rest of us…”

“It’s irresponsible. Even if she couldn’t personally handle it, she should’ve told us so we could’ve stepped up in her place. Instead, she left you alone to suffer. That’s not how a leader should behave.” Shiro glanced at Keith, and ran his knuckles against the back of Lance’s neck. Lance startled at the action, but before he could speak up, he felt Keith’s hands settle on his shoulders, kneading and massaging at the muscles there. He couldn’t tell if it was a tactic to show support, or if it was meant to relax him, but truthfully? Keith’s and Shiro’s hands were warm and it felt like it had been ages since Lance had been touched so deliberately. So even though he wanted to speak up and ask what they were doing or why, he instead felt himself melt further in his chair, brain turning to mush at the warmth soaking through his jacket.

Keith spoke up before Lance could fight the fuzzy feelings invading his brain. “Did Allura ever bring it up to you again? While you were… dating?”

Lance ignored the hesitation, far too used to it (and he tried to ignore the pang in his chest at the disbelief that always colored questions or comments on their relationship). “Ummm… We didn’t really… get a chance to?”

Keith’s hands stopped froze. “What?”

“I mean, it just never came up.”

“You almost died, and it never came up while you were together?”

“Hey! We were busy, we were all distracted back then…”

Hunk spoke up, “Didn’t we literally play Coran’s game like. Not even a week later?”

“Wait, you guys had time to play board games but Allura couldn’t talk to Lance about his death?” Even Shiro looked guilty at that, which just wasn’t fair!

“Come on, Keith, they didn’t know!”

“And you!” Lance tried not to shiver when those fierce, fiery eyes were focused on him. “Why didn’t you say something about it?”

“I thought they knew,” even as he said it Lance knew it was feeble and weak. Ugh and now Pidge and Hunk were tearing up again.

“And what, you assumed we just didn’t care?”

“We were busy! I told you that already, we were already distracted!”

“Pidge and I were playing with robots!” Hunk roared. Lance had been half standing by that point, but as soon as Hunk stood he found himself all but slamming himself back into his seat. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen his friend look so imposing. Honestly, it was probably never. It was really hard to get Hunk this heated. “And there is nothing that should be more important than my friends, than my family. And I thought that’s what we were out there.” He glared at everyone, as if daring them to contradict him. Predictably, no one did.

“Okay, but that doesn’t answer why Allura never said anything, what happened there? What did you guys do when you were together?”

Lance shifted uncomfortably, moving as if to stand again, but Keith’s hands grew firm again, continuing to hold him in place.

When the silence stretched on, Shiro finally murmured a quiet, “Lance.”

“She was hung up on Lotor. I think.”

No one said anything for a minute. “You think?” Pidge finally ventured.

“I mean, she was distracted with the war and everything else that was going on, the magic, Haggar, all of it. But I know that she was spending lots of time with him planning missions and everything.”

“She was ignoring you,” Hunk realized.

“No, she wasn’t!” Lance protested immediately. “Lotor just had better ideas and strategies, so she didn’t really… want my help.”

Hunk looked like he wanted to continue that argument, but Keith spoke first.

“Okay, but like, what about when you guys had down time? What did you do to relax and just spend time together? Outside of battle planning?”

Lance wracked his brain, but couldn’t think of anything other than Monsters and Manna that might count, but did it count? It was in a group setting… “You’re one to talk, Mullet, did you ever willingly leave the training rooms?” His voice broke, and Lance winced.

Rather than rise to the bait, Keith simply moved to stroking against the nape of Lance’s neck. Shiro’s hands felt a little tight around the base of his skull, but rather than being uncomfortable, Lance found it comforting. They were still there. They weren’t ignoring the situation. As painful as it was, it was nice to have all of this in the open. Lance relented.

“We played that game with everyone. Coran and Shiro and everyone.”

Another pause and then, “Lance…”

“That’s it, okay? I can’t remember anything else we did, except for maybe dinner with my family. We talked a bit when it was the two of us, but… It never seemed like I had all of her attention. There was never a chance to talk about what happened.”

“Lance,” Keith started, but he was interrupted. Lance’s phone was ringing again, and this time Lance was ready to take it. He shrugged off the hands that had been holding him steady, and stood so quickly his chair toppled. He moved a short distance away, ignoring how his friends’ concerned eyes followed.

 Shiro and Keith were heartbroken. How could they have known that their friend had been suffering so much for so long? Especially this friend? They had had such hopes for this reunion, had spent hours across weeks discussing how they might invite Lance to travel with them, how they would reveal their feelings for him. Instead, they find that not only are they not even worthy of his attention (what kind of friends or lovers wouldn’t notice something like that???), but that their plans were now going to take a lot more work to prove successful.

Because they weren’t going to give up. If anything else, this proved to them that Lance needed someone who could and would take the time for them, who would work to make him happy and make him feel loved and wanted.

And if their small talk about Lance’s death and relationship with Allura hadn’t proved that to them, then this phone call would.

Keith couldn’t keep himself from glaring over in Lance’s direction. Shiro’s hand had snuck into his own. Every time Keith snarled or growled at the conversation he could overhear, Shiro’s hand would squeeze just that little bit tighter. It was a nice sentiment, but Keith was done. He tugged Shiro over to the other end of the table, leaving Pidge and Hunk to fall into their own conversation.

“He’s not happy here, Shiro.”

Shiro gave Keith a disappointed look. “You can’t decide that for him, Keith.”

Keith growled, “I’m not, okay? He’s on the phone with his sister or mom or something and from the sounds of it, Lance has really been missing space and the missions and us.”

At that, Shiro perked up. “He’s been missing us? Really?”

Keith blushed. “Well, he’s been missing the team at least. And we’re on the team, so…”

Shiro chuckled, but Keith could see that the back of his neck was flushed, too. “Not exactly what I meant or what we wanted, but all right. So you think he would say yes if we asked?”

Keith thought for a minute, which Shiro appreciated. This was too important to ruin by rushing it.

“I think there’s a very good choice he will.”

 After the phone call ended, it took Lance a few minutes to regain control of himself. He hadn’t realized his whole family had been so aware of the fact that Lance had debated asking to go to space again. He’d been going back and forth on the whole thing for a while, because yes he missed his friends and the adventures, but really, would his friends even need him? What help would he be, what could he offer them? Nothing, plus he felt it was wrong of him to spend all of the war missing Earth and his family, but then ditch them just because now he missed space. He’d thought that maybe he would use this dinner to gauge if he could still fit with the team, but now he wasn’t sure where he stood with them. Were they mad that he had (inadvertently) kept secrets from them? Were they going to be worried that he would be a liability? Or would they love to have him back because they’d missed him? Well, probably not the last one, but maybe…

Lance sighed and used his sleeve to carefully wipe away the tears from his face, hoping desperately that his eyes weren’t so puffy that everyone would know he had been crying. But when he turned to rejoin his friends, he could tell that they knew anyway. The sympathy and concern in their eyes made his own water again. He gave them a wobbly smile.

“Lance?”

Lance rubbed his mouth, then tried to subtly swipe at his eyes again, “Yeah?”

“I know that we… we failed you. And honestly, I’m not sure that I could forgive that in your place, but we were wondering…” Keith faltered, looking to Shiro for help. Pidge and Hunk watched on in curiosity.

“Would you come with us this time?” Shiro asked smoothly.

Lance stared. “What?” he felt numb. Before he could even formulate another thought, Hunk gasped in excitement.

“Yes, Lance you should totally come out with them! Pidge and I are going out again, too, and we were going to meet them on one of the planets the Blade is working with right now, it would be so fun to have everyone together again and --!” Hunk broke off with a yelp. Pidge must’ve kicked Hunk to get him to stop rambling. Hunk glared at her halfheartedly.

No way in hell was one of his real life heroes actually asking him to come with them on a space mission. Sure, he’d completed several missions by now, but this wasn’t even just a personal hero! It was one of his crushes! And his other crush was asking the same thing? In what universe would something like that happen to Lance? Was this just because it was a group thing? In that case, he should say no, shouldn’t he? He’d spent all of the war being a 7th wheel, was he really now considering putting himself in that position again? Before his thoughts could spiral anymore, Shiro took his hand, settling himself in the chair next to his own.

“We’ve missed you, very much. And even though we don’t really travel in a group much anymore, Keith and I would love to have you come with us.”

“But… why?”

“Why not?” Keith asked.

“Well, what would you want me to do? I can’t do the tech stuff, or the engineering stuff, and Keith plays such a big role as is…”

Shiro shook his head. “We just want you, Lance. We’ve missed you. You make missions more fun, you always forced us to take breaks, you always knew when we needed a laugh or when we needed to talk, and you made sure you were there to help us with that. We don’t need you to do or be anything more than who you are. And if you really feel like you want to do more, we would love to have your help in planning the missions. You’ve always been good at strategizing, even if most of us weren’t able to see or acknowledge that at the time.”

Lance hesitated still, “What about Allura? Shouldn’t you be asking her about this first?”

Keith snarled, but when Lance jerked at the sound, his voice softened. “Let us worry about that. She’s actually been trying to plan her maternity leave for her baby, so she was going to be taking a step back, and she hadn’t decided on how long yet. Besides, Shiro is the captain of Atlas, not Allura.”

Shiro nodded, eyes warm.

And even though this was something Lance had been dreaming of, he still wasn’t sure that he was ready for it. It felt daunting, almost like… Almost like driving a mecha lion through a wormhole with a group of people he barely knew. It felt like a beginning, an adventure.

And who was Lance to turn down adventure?

[nct-oli]

I am very confident this story will have a happy ending, not only doing Phutian justice but also Phupha and Tian individually too.

Here’s why.

(Note: I still have not opened the tags at all or read any other thoughts about this episode. I wanted to get all of my own thoughts written out for my own sake before I added anyone else’s to my brain. Thus, if anyone has written a similar post to this, I promise I did not read it!! These are thoughts straight from my own mind.)

My biggest wish this entire series has been that Tian would come to forgive himself. Even if he didn’t end up with Phupha and didn’t stay in the village, I wanted him to come to recognize his own value and his own abilities and to finally let go of the guilt that had been eating away at him for months. To me, that was the most important thing and the lesson that has been set up for the entirety of this show.

And in this post right here from after episode 7, I wrote about how I believed this story had to end with him finding peace with himself and acknowledging his self worth. For the most part, that has been how the story has progressed, and I full-heartedly believe that is how it will end.

So let’s look at where the story is after episode 9. Things are... still a bit messy. Tian is leaving. His relationship with Phupha is on the line. The children are losing another beloved teacher. And once again, Tian feels like his life is being controlled for him.

It seems Tian has always felt like he was suffocating. He has said many times that he never felt a sense of pride in himself because he never knew what he was capable of. Everything was done for him, and every decision was made without his input.

I want to add that I appreciated Tian saying to his father that he wasn’t denying that having a comfortable life is everyone’s goal. He wasn’t discrediting the things that his comfortable life afforded him. But he also knew that he hadn’t done most things for himself and in many ways wasn’t even able to do them for himself, and then after the surgery, he wasn’t able to do anything for himself. And that wasn’t the life that he wanted.

I imagine too there were a lot of pressures and expectations at home for Tian to continue the family name and follow in his father’s footsteps in some way. Maybe not career-wise but to continue making the family proud. To carry on the legacy in one way or another and to inherit the life his father created for him.

And if we really dig deeper into his life, it seems nearly everyone has thoughts about his life and how it should be. Not just his parents and his doctors but even his friends. When he went to meet them post-surgery, they started making comments about how it must be weird to have someone else’s heart and asking if he wanted to know who gave him the heart. They were putting pressures on him about how to feel and think about this really difficult situation he was in, and he got overwhelmed.

Even Tul, who we absolutely adore, came to visit Tian and immediately started discrediting his happiness in the village. He told him it wasn’t his real life, questioned how he could survive without electricity and internet, and didn’t believe him when he said he was really happy in the village. Of course, Tul also fully validated his sexuality and supported him staying in the village (bless him), but we can’t deny the fact that even he had his own opinions about what Tian’s life should and should not have looked like.

I imagine growing up the way he did, at some point, Tian probably just accepted the lack of control he had over himself. Him giving up would have only enabled everyone to continue involving themselves in his life, and thus an unfortunate cycle would have been created.

And then when he got sick, that spiraled even further. Not only did he have people controlling his life but he had this illness that could literally take his life at any point.

And then of course, post-transplant, there is the pressure of Torfun and his own guilt. This entire show, Tian has been battling with himself about his own happiness, because at the end of the day, though he was learning about his own abilities and finding pride in himself, I also think he was always questioning the validity of everything. He was constantly at war with himself about what was and wasn’t his, what he did and did not deserve, etc. He was making decisions for Torfun and struggled to separate himself from her time and time again.

But at the same time, he felt freedom in the village he had never felt before. For the first time, he felt like he was making his own choices. Yes, most made also for Torfun, but arguably he still felt he was able to make the decision on his own about whether or not to help Torfun.

The longer he was in the village, the more his guilt grew. He even said that himself, that the more comfortable he got in the village, the harder it was to keep that secret.

But simultaneously, the longer he was in the village, the more he could picture staying there: with Phupha, with the kids, and with the forest. I think by the time Phupha got shot, he was prepared to extend his time there (despite the back and forth feeling that he was putting the village in danger by staying). He was happy, and he wanted to hold onto that happy life.

Then when things were looking up again, Phupha healing and safe, Tian found out his father had always been pulling the strings behind the scenes. The freedom he thought he had was a facade. And not only that, but he felt that Phupha’s love was a facade too, bought by his parent’s money or power. This life that he thought he had suddenly felt fake, and the sense of control over his own choices he thought he had disappeared.

Once again, he felt powerless. And on top of that, betrayed.

I wrote a whole thinkpiece here about why I understand Phupha’s decisions and why I believe he was acting in character in episode 9. While he was in the wrong with how he was handling everything, his intentions were good, made from a place of genuine love for Tian.

But now Tian wants the village. He wants this life, and he knows it. But everyone around him is verbally doubting his reasons and his abilities to do so, and GOD, he’s so frustrated. For once he knows what he wants for himself, and everyone is pushing him away from it.

We all know Tian’s parents think they understand his future best. I actually felt it was rather ironic when Tian’s father told Phupha that he knew his son well, while in the same breath, told Phupha (the man his son is in love with) to make Tian leave the first place he felt truly himself. He knows nothing about his son and continues to not hear or see Tian when he tries to make him understand. So his parents trying to force him into a life he doesn’t want is no surprise.

But then here is Phupha with his genuinely good intentions forcing Tian out too because he does not see the way he is contradicting himself. He tells Tian to live for himself but does not give Tian the option to stay for himself. (Again, I wrote a lot about Phupha in this post that I’m not going to repeat here, but I’m using the logic I explained there when talking about Phupha here. So if you’re curious about why I am not overly angry with Phupha, read that.)

I think it’s really important that in more recent episodes, we’ve heard Tian start acknowledging his own capabilities and growth. He finally began to see his value, and the lessons he has been learning are starting to really solidify for him. He’s genuinely beginning to understand what this whole journey has taught him.

Unfortunately though, he was always making his decisions ultimately for Torfun. Or at least, in his own mind, repaying Torfun for this new life was always the motivation. As I said earlier, he was in this constant battle between his own happiness and the duty he felt toward Torfun.

But now... he’s finally closing that chapter with Torfun. He told his secrets. He gained forgiveness from the village. He heard Phupha tell him to live his own life.

And he’s learning to forgive himself.

So now as he’s entering a new stage of freedom, away from the grip his own guilt had on him, he’s faced with a new challenge. He’s faced with people who love him once again thinking they know best for his life. As he’s exiting one chapter, he’s entering a new one, and this one won’t come easily. But he’s entering this one better prepared after all of the lessons he learned about his own strength and capabilities, and all of the happiness he found in himself... this is the moment for him to make use of the new knowledge and feelings he has gained. This is his peak, his opportunity to finally choose himself and pick the life he wants.

For himself. Just as Phupha told him he should do.

This is the test to see if he finally grasps how valuable he is as Tian. This entire show has been about him finding his own worth outside of Torfun, outside of his parents, outside of his friends, and even outside of the village and Phupha. Just the worth that he carries with him always, as Tian.

This will also be a lesson for Phupha, that sometimes our desire to protect the people we love can hurt them and ourselves. That we have to give people the option to make mistakes. That despite him believing he’s helping Tian, he isn’t, and sometimes he doesn’t need to be so self-sacrificing to take care of the people in his life.

Tian has been controlled by guilt, fear, sadness, anxiety, depression, physical illness, disability, medication, doctor’s orders, and money, plus all of the people in his life who thought they were helping him. But after everything he has been through, this is his moment to take control back. And I believe he will. I absolutely think that is the conclusion this story has been setting up from the very beginning.

Tian may return to Bangkok, but I believe it will be temporary. I expect he’ll get there and find himself so homesick for the village that he won’t be able to stand it. And when he returns to the Pha Pun Dao, it will be because he chose it for himself. Not for anyone else.

On his own terms.

And that will be the moment he recognizes just how immeasurable his self growth has been.

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

If I end up being wrong......... you never saw this post.

But I would be genuinely shocked if this is not where the story is going (or at least to some degree), because they set it up so beautifully to end up this way. In fact, I predicted generally that this was the moral of the story way back at the beginning of the show, and it has continued to move in that direction since. So if this isn’t the conclusion to Tian’s story, I’ll be highly disappointed that all of the lessons they set up for him (as well as for Phupha and the others) were thrown away after all of the build up. 

They’ve added all but that final puzzle piece, and I’d be really shocked if they left the picture unfinished.

(This was much messier than I intended, but I really struggled to put all of my random thoughts into one coherent post. So I hope this made even a tiny bit of sense.)

[bestworstcase]

farran rereads lost lagoon: chapters 16-17

back at it.

re: romance novel: “I saw a patch of red flowers, and I thought they would be striking against Cass’s dark hair. She wasn’t exactly a flower wearer, but maybe she’d let me pin one on her dress? The color would set off her fair skin so perfectly. And she could at least keep some in a vase by her bed. I refused to believe there was a person alive who didn’t feel better with freshly cut flowers in her room.” that’s gay rapunzel

i do admittedly have some ambivalent feelings about this passage. on the one hand it’s - yes, very gay. but also it feels to me like such a clear illustration of the difficulty rapunzel has with empathy and listening to other people when their experiences or expectations or needs diverge from hers; she acknowledges that cass isn’t into flowers, but follows it up with “but maybe i can get her to wear some anyway,” and of course there’s the whole refusing to believe anyone could feel differently about having flowers in their room than she does. and it also has this weird undercurrent of - god, i don’t know how to phrase it in a succinct way.

this specific passage was on my mind when i wrote this bit in moonless air chapter 4: 

Still. She plucks at the stitches of her jack-of-plate, self-conscious.

It’s the nicest thing she owns. Soft green velvet sewn over sturdy layers of canvas and steel. Armor. She’d saved up for more than a year to buy it for herself on the anniversary of her adoption two years ago, and at the time it had been nothing but a frivolous luxury. Stupid, really. She’d never had real reason to wear it in Herzingen, not for anything besides teaching herself how to move with its weight and entertaining ridiculous fantasies—but last night, Moira had intimated that their destination in Vardaros is fancy as well as dangerous. So the jack seemed… appropriate.

Sharp. She twitches.

Clothing—fashion isn’t– Cassandra’s always hated dresses. It’s a trait that demands a certain amount of indifference to what other people think of her appearance.

And she can do indifference. Cassandra has indifference in spades. But nobody’s ever paid her a compliment quite like that before: baldly appreciative. Straightforward. Not like all the times Rapunzel coaxed her into tolerating crowns of late-summer flowers because the colors look so nice with your complexion! and not like the Commander’s gruff praise for how grown-up she looked in the hideous pastel gowns that had come with the lady-in-waiting gig.

because – like, cass is butch, and “not a flower wearer,” and here in lost lagoon we have this passage where rapunzel expresses this pretty straightforward attraction to cassandra but in the context of imagining cassandra presenting in a much more feminine way than she is comfortable with - in a dress with flowers in her hair etc - and it just... rubs me the wrong way a little bit. and this is not to say like cass can’t be butch and put a flower in her hair but when it’s paired with rapunzel specifically acknowledging that cass doesn’t WANT to wear flowers then it - yeah i feel weird about this passage. 

and that translated into cass having a whole little crisis over being complimented for her appearance without implicit pressure to be more feminine for the first time ever

anyways

i still can’t get over the name monsieur lefleur 

rapunzel summarizes hervanian culture as “brash but can be funny; distrustful but not mean-spirited” so, basically, they are americans

she is feeling very Prepared to meet with them, in contrast to every other time she’s met with foreign dignitaries or nobility before this. eugene tries to warn her that cass is PISSED with her and she just brushes him off, as one does, by saying that cass is “not all bubbles and moonbeams” but that she is “a softy” inside. 

of course this leads up to cass blowing up and going off while rapunzel tries to calm her down and just - groan this line. 

“People don’t change! You told a criminal a detail that puts my entire future at risk!”

how many times have i said “cass doesn’t act this way in tts” i feel like it’s a constant drumbeat. but i have to say, again, that cass doesn’t act this way in tts. i don’t think it’s unrealistic for her to think like this, given that her father is essentially corona’s chief of police and she idolizes him, but i feel the need to reiterate that there is zero sign of cass having this mindset in tts proper. and it does sort of bother me when people read this into cass’s character because it undermines and delegitimizes her dislike of eugene in early s1. 

which like. tts itself sort of frames their mutual dislike as a mutual problem, but it’s... really not? and imo the best illustration of this is in this exchange from cassandra vs eugene: 

CASSANDRA: Unbelievable. Did you eat all the cookies?

EUGENE: I’m not a pig, Cassandra. I ate all of your cookies; I’m saving mine for later.

CASSANDRA: Ugh– you are nothing but a self-serving, inconsiderate, arrogant freeloader!

EUGENE: [scoffing] You know, I can rattle off insulting adjectives describing your personality, too, but to do so would imply that you actually have a personality, and I just wouldn’t feel right about doing that!

this is the dynamic every time they squabble in early s1. 

1 - eugene does something selfish or thoughtless - in this case taking all the cookies and milk for himself. 

2 - cassandra calls him out for it, and he doubles down, often taking a potshot at her in the process. 

3 - cassandra gets mad and calls his behavior what it is (self-serving, inconsiderate, arrogant)

4 - eugene gets defensive and insults her as a person, typically with variations on calling her icy / unfeeling / humorless / joyless. 

which is to say, their fights are initiated by eugene’s poor behavior, and cassandra attacks his behavior but eugene attacks cassandra herself. like, eugene is the dude who insults you and then goes “pfft why can’t you take a joke” when you get upset with him. that’s what this is. 

moreover, when eugene’s, for lack of a better term, residual flynn rider-ness starts to taper off, cassandra’s criticism of his behavior also tapers off, AND she gets much gentler about how she phrases this criticism once he starts to actually take it on board. but there’s no accompanying shift in the way eugene speaks to and about her - the jibes about her being humorless or cranky or soulless literally never stop and at no point does he ever seem to consider that cass might not appreciate them as much as he thinks she does. 

(to be clear, i don’t think they bother cass very much if at all - but they do create and reinforce a perception on eugene’s end that cass Doesn’t Have Feelings and the background radiation of that contributes to the toxicity that develops in season 2.)

like again, pulling from cassandra vs eugene here, eugene is extremely insulting towards cassandra even when he’s ostensibly coming to her defense: 

RANDOM THUG: Look at that, Fancy-Boots has got something to say!

EUGENE: Name-calling? Come on, we’re better than that, aren’t we? Sure, we could sit here and make fun of each other—tease Cassandra for her chronic joylessness, or me for my uncommonly good looks, or you for your poor dental hygiene, tragic fashion sense, robust body odor, and what are clearly woefully misguided decision making skills, but do you really want to go down that road?

ALL OF WHICH IS TO SAY - besides demonstrating an obvious willingness to give eugene another chance once he starts doing the bare minimum to not be a dick to her, cassandra doesn’t like eugene because eugene is an asshole to her and takes the enormous privileges he is given completely for granted. 

saying “well she doesn’t like him because he was a criminal and she doesn’t believe criminals ever change” erases that completely and reframes the conflict as cassandra treats eugene unfairly because of bigotry that she needs to unlearn. lost lagoon takes this even one step further in that lost lagoon eugene is genuinely trying to be responsible, he is taking his new lot in life seriously. he doesn’t need cass to tell him off for acting like an ass because he doesn’t act like an ass. he shows actual interest in getting to know cass and makes an effort to break through her hostility in order to get along. unlike his tts counterpart, lagoon eugene really doesn’t do anything wrong, and that makes cassandra’s intense hatred of him on the grounds that he was a thief look completely irrational and, like i said, bigoted. 

it’s just very frustrating to me.

anyways

rapunzel tries very hard to persuade cass that it’s actually totally fine that she told eugene the secret because she just can’t keep secrets from eugene (except the lagoon which she has arbitrarily decided is totes fine to keep secret and i am pretty sure this contradiction never gets pointed out) - and cass is having none of it, and of course arianna interrupts before anything can get resolved. 

they rush out and monsieur lefleur interrupts them, asking questions about the lost lagoon. he reveals that he heard an ~elegant cloaked person~ inquiring about it in the library. he asks for the book. they say no. the red herring smells to high heavens, and the chapter ends with rapunzel subtly telling cass to hide the book ~for the safety of the kingdom~ and oh my god i just can’t handle the low stakes. 

seventeen picks up from there with cassandra’s point of view; she’s suspicious of lefleur and angsts a lot about how she has no time to train and she needs to get out of corona yada yada. her plan is literally to just walk until she finds someone to hire her on as a guard which. lol. this kid.

i feel like this is the strongest passage in the whole book: 

She said there couldn’t be any secrets between Eugene and her. But why—especially when it meant sacrificing my future and everything I held dear? I’d read about romantic love in poems, and it seemed to me like a spell. Sounded great for the lovebirds, but what about the other people.

Did I just not matter in the face of this love, even though I had been the one to risk everything to show Rapunzel the world? Was I just supposed to fall on my sword because Eugene was uncomfortable that he didn’t have every last piece of information about Rapunzel?

she has a brief argument with owl, who is a pretty obvious stand-in for her own doubts / feeling that she truly belongs in corona and doesn’t actually want to leave. but she has no choice! but it’s stormy, so she can’t leave! oh no!

(i think if tts really strongly felt she had no choice but to free corona, a measly thunderstorm would not be enough to stop her.)

[lu-undy]

Un-alone, Chapter 11

Here it is!

“D’you think he’ll be back for dinner?” Philip looked through the kitchen window.

“I don’t know, Phil. I hope he will…”

“Carrie…” Philip went to his sister who was making some dinner. “Don’t worry, he’s a big boy.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that… Ugh, guess I was wrong.”

“About what?” He asked the worried mother.

“I thought that he went away with his van only because of work but if he does it here as well, then surely it’s for other reasons.”

“He might be out havin’ fun in a bar or somethin, eh?”

“Nah, Micky’s not like that.” She answered. 

“You don’t know. Maybe he is.”

Phil’s answer made Caroline stop stirring the pan and frown. 

“You boys were up late yesterday?” She asked. 

“We just watched a bit of TV with a beer. You seem awfully worried but you know him better than I do, why would you fret that much?”

“Because… Because I guess you’re right in the grand scheme of things.” She admitted in a sigh.

“About what?”

“I don’t know him that well, I guess.”

“Listen, he’s a man and his job is to deal with danger, he’ll be fine. Would you worry for me if I went out all day?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t but-”

“So then don’t worry about him!” Phil cut her and Caroline pushed her glasses up her nose. 

“I know but I can’t help it. Force of habit, I guess. I’m used to always waiting like that. Sometimes he does come back home, sometimes he doesn’t and I stay up late, hoping that if I wait half an hour more, he’ll appear at the door.”

Phil sighed.

“Look, I asked a few favours at work.”

“Oh?” She answered. “About what?”

“About Micky. You said he’d gotten himself somethin’ to do with the police that he couldn’t talk about. So I thought, as a policeman myself, I could surely get the info.”

“Right, I see, so what did you find out?” She asked excitedly.

“Nothin’.”

“What?” Caroline’s eyebrows jumped.

“I mean, he did stuff for the police and it was so important that it’s sort of uh… a bit… classified?”

“What?!” Caroline repeated. 

“Look, I know you’re worryin’ about him but if he’s called in for jobs like that, then he’s much, much better at his job than what you and Mike imagine.”

“What do you mean?” Caroline turned the stove off and turned to her brother who had taken a seat around the dinner table.

“I mean that he wasn’t just called by the local police for pest control or somethin’. He was paid heftily to buy not only his services but his silence too. Gosh, I’m proud of that boy…!”

Caroline however, was terrified. 

“Hold on, hold on…” She went to sit in front of her brother. “Phil, you’ve got to be clear and tell me. Is he only huntin’ or…?”

“Hell if I know!” Phil answered. “But one thing’s for sure, you should be proud of him instead of scared. That boy, whatever he’s doin’ exactly, he’s doin’ it outstandingly.”

“Oh God…” Caroline sighed and shook her head as she lowered it. She grasped the tea towel in her hand harder.

“What?”

“We’re not so scared as to how his huntin’ goes, with Mike. He was the one to teach him and Micky’s always been careful, nah…”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Exactly what you described, Phil. In a way, we’d have hoped he wouldn’t be too good with a rifle. You never know what you can make a man do if you pay him handsomely. But now that you tell me he’s been off doin’ some classified stuff… Gosh…” Caroline hid her face in her hands. “That’s the worst…”

“Why d’you think he was refusin’ to tell you what he was doin’ then?”

“Cause he doesn’t like to talk about his job to us!”

“Yeah but he doesn’t like it cause he never gets a good word out of either of you for it!” Phil answered. “Look, the way I see it, you guys are doin’ all you can to make him not open up to you.”

“What?”

“Y’know what, let’s have dinner and I’ll explain.”

“Alright, then lay the table out, yeah?”

“Sure.”

They both rose from their chairs and got busy. Philip laid the table for three, in case Mundy would come back from whatever he was doing and Caroline finished her cooking. When they resumed their seats, their plates were full and smoking hot.

“Oh, let me just grab some water, I forgot…” Phil came back with a jug of fresh water. “There.” He sat down and put it on the table between his sister and himself. “Now, that smells delicious…!”

“It’s only spaghetti with a tomato sauce and the leftover ground beef from lunch, eh?”

“Still, smells awfully good, thanks Carrie…” Philip took a taste and closed his eyes with a wide smile. “Gosh that’s almost like Mum’s. You took me centuries back, heh!”

They exchanged a chuckle. 

“So, Phil, what did you mean?”

“With what?”

“With what you said about Micky? That we somehow pushed him not to open up to us?”

“Yeah…” Philip wiped his mouth before going on. “Here’s my take on things. I talked to him and I’ve talked to you, so I got to see both sides of the coin, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So I think he doesn’t talk to you about anythin’ cause he’s just tired of the whole ‘it’s dangerous, do somethin’ else with your life’ speech. Meanwhile, you worry not only cause he does hunt at the end of the day, but also because he’s damn good at it, to put it mildly.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Hearing the same speech over and over again, it’s gotta be tiring for you and Mike you, don’t it?”

“It is…” Caroline nodded slowly, defeated. “But what else can we do? He’s about forty and a grown up man. Can’t scold him for it anymore.”

“What if you genuinely tried to understand his job a bit better? Have you ever tried just askin’ him not with the intention of tellin’ him off for it?”

Caroline took a deep breath. “I guess not.”

“Well then, start from there. I’m sure he’d love to tell you both about what he likes and all. But you gotta allow him to. Otherwise, he’s just gonna close up like a clam!”

“Yeah, that’s true…” She looked left and right, half ashamed, half distraught at the idea that it was her fault if her son wasn’t very open with her. “Did you…?”

“Did I what?” Phil asked. 

“Well you’ve been havin’ your evenings between boys and all, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ask him about… Y’know… Sheilas?”

“Oh girls? Yeah, I have.”

“And?” She asked, expecting some news like some would expect a miracle. 

“Nothin’.”

“What d’you mean again with ‘nothin’?”

“Well, literally just that! He’s told me he doesn’t have a girlfriend or anythin’ like that and I think he’s bein’ honest about it…!”

“But?” Caroline knew her brother and she could hear the ‘but’ coming. 

“But there’s something.”

"What? You think he was lying? You think he does have a girlfriend?”

“No, nah. I think there’s somethin’. I don’t exactly know what but I see it in his eyes. He’s not just shy. There’s somethin’ in that heart of his that he’s hidin’.”

“Like what?” Caroline asked. 

Philip took the jug of water and poured some for both of them. 

“Hell if I know…”

-- Miles away --

Mundy raised his eyes to the sky. He took a deep breath. The air smelt the same as back home. The desert here was very different, yet he felt home there, in the middle of nowhere, a nowhere that he did not know and that didn’t know him either. 

The sky’s colours were changing as the sun set gently and Mundy stared in the distance. He was on his van’s rooftop, as far as possible from any and all cities, where his thoughts could be let out free. He could speak them out, or even scream them, shout everything he could not when he was around his family. 

But Mundy did not have that hot blood that would prompt him to do so. Instead, he just thought about it, without the rampant pressure of his uncle or his mother trying to pop his bubble of intimacy. He thought the words that he wished he could say to a friend, a confidant. 

God, I wish. 

He thought. 

God I wish I could find someone nice. 

He looked up at the sky and wished on every star he saw. 

Why? 

Because he so damn wished. He closed his eyes and remembered. He remembered the last time he had a pleasant and meaningful conversation with anyone. That had happened years ago and had cost him his last friend. The one and only person who had understood why his eyes would linger on masculine silhouettes more than feminine ones. They had understood it, and left him, right after giving him that sideways disgusted look.

Mundy sighed. 

He then remembered how it had felt, his first time with a man, and then the other times. The first time was as awkward as it should have been. The ones that followed worked better and better as far as the choreography of moves go. However, there was something that Mundy found tiring. Whoever this partner was -- and it often was a drunk partner found in a pub after a long day of work -- they were always both way past tipsy and not really enjoying more than the physical satisfaction of the act. Sometimes, Mundy would wake up hungover and with a headache that would make him want nothing but to get rid of his catch of the night, so to speak. 

There were no feelings, no attachment, no longing. 

And it got the Aussie thinking. He came to a point where he thought he would rather remove the physical relief to only keep the meaningful discussions, should a choice arise. Better a good friend, than a mute one night stand. 

Unsurprisingly, following such a line of thought, he had grown to prefer his own company and stopped making any effort to find the man his heart and mind dreamt of. He contented himself with his internal monologues and, when his body asked of him, of a solitary kind of intimacy. 

Mundy was in that complete contradiction of craving the company of someone else and hating it at the same time. Having to put up with someone else, changing to please them, to voluntarily close his eyes to whatever they did that he did not like…? Pff, he didn’t have any patience for that anymore. 

So all he had left was to dream. To fabricate a reality of his own where he did have that man. He didn’t need to be good-looking, he didn’t need to be rich. He just needed to understand Mundy, to put up with his long silences, with his sacred intimacy, not in the sexual meaning, no. That man just needed to understand that Mundy was such a mess inside that he preferred to keep to himself. If that dream man could do all that, oh, Mundy was satisfied. If that dream man could understand that Mundy liked his own company not because he hated people, but because they did not understand him. What choice did he have? He couldn’t do anything else? 

It wasn’t like he could cure it or help it. He had tried, to no avail. He just was this way, a way that not even his family could know, because if they did, they would push him away too. But he only had them, nothing else! His mother and father were all that Mundy had, and if he had to make that choice, well it was all thought through! He would of course keep his family. 

That choice, he both didn’t have it and made it anyway everyday. 

No man had caught the Aussie’s interest for more than just a look. He had tried more of course but was most often stopped by the fact that they were normal. They liked women, unlike him. Well, he liked them, but preferred men, greatly so. Thus Mundy would move on yet again, only to end up in his comfortable solitude. 

It was comfortable only because it was familiar. Yet now, he had learnt to live with it, live with the loneliness, like a tattoo that spanned all over his skin, that only he could see. His parents could see it too, but did not see it the right way. God only knew what they thought of him, apart from the usual disappointment at his job, and his single status.

Speaking of his parents…

Mundy blinked repeatedly as he landed back from his day-dreaming. 

His mother and uncle might be waiting for him for dinner. The Aussie moved and went down the ladder at the back of his van before he went to the driver’s seat. What time was it? Bugger, late enough… 

“Oh is that you Micky?” Caroline asked.

“Yeah, I’m back, sorry I didn’t see time fly…” He removed his hat and went to sit around the table. 

"We just finished eatin', son." Phil answered. 

"Ah, sorry again, I didn't mean to skip dinner with you."

"It's alright, Micky." 

He started digging in while his mother started the washing up. His uncle stayed at the dinner table with him. 

“Really good Mum.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

“So, uh, you been alright, Micky?” Phil asked. 

“Yeah, I just uh…”

“As long as you're safe, it’s all that matters.” Caroline interrupted her washing up and Mundy gasped when he felt her hands on his shoulders and her lips on his cheeks. He blushed. "Phil, can you give us a minute?" 

"Sure. I'll go and give some food to Marty." The old man took his cane and left the kitchen, making sure he closed the door after himself. 

"I know, Mum… Look, I really didn't see how late it was gettin' and-"

"Micky." She interrupted him and turned to sit in front of him. "I don't mind it. I want to talk to you about somethin' else."

"Oh?" 

"Look, I think… I think that in all these years, we might have been doin' the wrong thing, your father and I."

"What d'you mean?" Mundy put his fork down and frowned. 

"I mean that… Uh… Now that I'm far from him and I talked to Phil a bit… I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"About the way your father's always… y'know, he's always been on your back and-and I guess I was too. We've always been tellin' you off about your job and always been worried and all but… But Phil told me a bit more and I think that we completely missed what we should have done." 

She raised her eyes to her son and slid her old hand to grab his, several shades darker than her own. 

"Micky… I want to apologise. I never wanted you to shut yourself up like a snail in his shell and I know that you did that because your dad and I've been always pressurin' you."

Mundy opened wide, round eyes. 

"I…"

"Let me finish, baby." She clenched her fingers on his hand. "Look at me, sweetheart." Mundy raised his eyes to his mother again. "Please, tell me about you."

Her eyes and her overall face looked both so distraught and so compassionate that Mundy lost his tongue. 

"I… What d'you want to know?" 

"Everythin'." She answered. "I feel like the only thing I know about you is what you like to eat, it's… It's terrible. So please, Micky, tell me."

Mundy's blush could hardly be deeper. He didn't like being put on the spot that way. But on the other hand, what his mother had just said was… a miracle!

"I don't know what to say really…"

"Anythin', and I won't tell a thing to your dad. If anythin', I'll try and make him understand what Phil opened my eyes to. We've grown apart not because of your job or anythin', but because of us."

"I… Mum...Thank you." 

"Aw…" Caroline stood up and went to hug her son's head. He laced an arm around her waist and clenched his grip on her hand. She gently brushed his hair and bent down to kiss it. "Now, tell me more about your job, yeah? And please, be honest and all, I promise I won't be mad at you, I love you, Micky…"

Mundy was shocked and astounded. So that was what it had taken? A visit to Phil without his dad?

"Mum, I… I'm so glad that you tell me this... Oof, sorry…"

"Aw, gettin' emotional, eh?" 

Mundy silently nodded against his mother. He pushed his chair back and stood up to hug her better, and closed his eyes. 

"Tell you what, I'll make some tea and I'll send Phil away, then you can tell me more, yeah?" 

"Uh, yeah." Mundy nodded as he felt his mother gently tap his back. "Alright, I'll uh.. I'll give you a hand with the dishes, yeah?" 

"Good boy."

They exchanged a smile and both got to work. Mundy finished washing the dishes and Caroline readied the kettle. She disappeared off the kitchen only to reappear a few minutes later. 

“Right, Phil wanted to go to bed so he’s there. It’s just you and me tonight, Micky.”

“Oh, alright, I’m done with the dishes.”

“Can you grab the cups for the tea, baby?”

“Sure.”

A few minutes later, both were in the living-room enjoying a cup of tea on the sofa. The television was low, just enough to fill the silence but not too loud. 

“So, Micky, go ahead.”

Mundy took a deep breath. He stared into his tea and sighed. 

“Mum, I-I don’t really hunt for animals.”

“What d’you mean?” She asked and raised a curious eyebrow.

“I… I try to save them.”

“Save them?”

“I go after poachers.” Mundy explained with his head low. 

“What do you mean? D’you… Hurt them?”

“I… I try not to. I put them to sleep most of the time. But some of them do come back and don’t learn.”

“What d’you do in that case?”

Mundy’s eyes zigzagged left and right. Caroline scooted over closer to him and took his hand in hers. 

“Hey, it’s alright, whatever it is, I’d rather know.”

Mundy took a deep breath.

“I… I don’t kill them or anythin’ but… I scare them.”

“Micky, please, just tell me.” She clenched her hand on his.

“I shoot them but I make sure it doesn’t kill them. I know where to aim to hurt, not to kill.”

“Oh…”

"They're never alone so there's always someone to get them out of there and get fixed."

"What do they say when they extract a bullet out of him? Surely they call the police and start enquirin'?" Caroline asked, frightened for her son. 

"When I do that, I don't shoot bullets. I shoot canines that you can get from dead animals. There are many from the wild reserves. Sometimes, their oldest beasts die and that's the only thing I ask of them."

"You're in touch with the reserves? I didn't know that." Caroline frowned. 

"Yeah. Sometimes, they call me to have a look cause some poachers would have stolen their beasts. It's then my job to track them down, find them and we can organise them bein' brought back home. Of course, sometimes I come too late and the beast's dead. But most of the time, I manage to find them and have them go back to the reserve they come from safely."

Caroline took a deep breath and sighed. She was still frowning. 

"Uhm…" Mundy looked left and right. "Y-you alright, Mum? Did I go too far?" 

"And those reserves are your clients?" She asked, ignoring Mundy's question. 

"Yeah, most of the time it's reserves; rarely, it's zoos."

"Or the police, eh?" She added. 

"Uh, y-yeah…" He lowered his head. 

"So you try to save those beasts from poachers, is your job, yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"And you don't kill either one or the other."

"Nah, never. When I get the poachers hurt, I guess they go to hospital and try to explain that they did hear a gunshot but the doctors must tell them that it's the shock of bein' bit so deep. In the end, they remove the tooth and patch them up. Those things never go too deep in the tissues."

"How d'you shoot teeth?"

"Custom bullets… It's uh… it's technical and I'm sure you'd be bored to hear all about it." 

"Hm. So you just hurt the blokes?"

"Yeah, that's the worst case scenario."

"And you don't kill or hurt the beasts?" 

"Nah, I don't."

"How do you transport them back to where they belong?" 

"I don't, I usually shoot them with a good dose of tranq' shots and then call the reserve to arrange for collection. I stay nearby, just to make sure the beast doesn't get preyed on or anythin'."

"Right…"

Silence fell during which Caroline fell deep in thought. 

"Mum… Uh… J-just to make sure you maybe understand better, I'm… I'm the only one who does that. You can hire hunters left and right but, I'm the only one who never kills the beast in the end. They don't deserve it. People sometimes…" Mundy shook his head. "They behave like animals, not actual animals. Actual animals just look to eat, sleep and mate. People go and meddle with them for their skins, their furs, their whatever that's expensive. I'd understand it if we were ten thousand years back and you need the leather and all. But in this day and age? Nah, leave them alone. Just look at them, take care of them if you're knowledgeable. Other than that? Just… Just leave them in peace. They don't need us." 

"Gosh." 

Caroline reflected on those words. The last time that Mundy had talked to her for that long was… When even was that? She couldn't remember. And she knew he liked animals and felt more empathy to them than he would to people sometimes, but she had never heard him word it all out. 

"Micky?" 

He didn't dare say or move anything and just remained petrified. 

"Micky, I'm proud of you." 

His head swooshed back up to look at his mother. 

"I still need to wrap my head around all this but… You're not harmin' or hurtin' anyone and you're saving those poor souls, bringing them back home." Caroline hugged her son. "I'm so relieved…!" 

He hugged her back. 

"What did you think I was doin'?" 

"Huntin' beasts and all, but exactly to sell them to people who want to hurt them, take their skin or whatever!"

"I'd never do that, Mum, even if they'd pay me billions."

Caroline had her head buried against her son's chest. 

"I'm so, so happy you're not doin' anything dodgy…"

"Nah, I don't. I… Truth is I could, but I know you and Dad would be worried, so I don't. And I'm not doin' any of this for the money, even though it pays well. I'm doin' it cause I'm the only one who can." 

"Micky?" 

"Yeah?"

"I love you, baby." 

Both smiled, still clinging to each other on the sofa. 

"Will you tell Dad?" 

"I'll try. But not over the phone, I'd rather have him face to face for this." 

"Yeah, thanks." 

"And uh… Micky?" 

"Yeah?" 

Caroline pulled herself out of the embrace. 

"Can I ask you somethin' else?" 

"Sure." He smiled. 

"What about… this?" Caroline put her hand on her son's chest and lightly tapped his heart. Mundy's smile vanished. 

"I… I'm quite tired, Mum. Is that ok if I go to sleep?" 

"Sure, baby."

[elyhaikyuu]

JUST A TRANSFEREE

Tsukishima Kei x OC

Chapter 2: STEALING GLANCES

(Masterlist) [prev] [next]

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3rd Person's POV:

The boys or more like the idiots are still talking about the girl while practicing. Tsukishima was getting pissed at them since they're not really concentrating.

Daichi is also getting mad since they just lost the preliminaries last inter-high and they seemed like they already forgotten about it.

"OY, YOU GUYS!!! WHAT ARE DOING FOOLING AROUND!? RUN 20 LAPS MORE! YOU IDIOTS!" Daichi exclaimed madly.

"EHHHHH?!?!?! DAICHI-SAN!!! AREN'T YOU CURIOUS WHO'S THAT GIRL!?" Tanaka whined at his captain.

"RIGHT!!! WOULDN'T YOU WANT TO KNOW HER!? AFTER SHOYO DESCRIBED HER TO US, SHE REALLY LOOKED LIKE A GODDESS, WELL MAYBE NOT AS MUCH AS KIYOKO-SAN BUT I'M SURE SHE'S PRETTY AS HELL!!" Nishinoya said agreeing to what his pal said.

"Well, you're just imagining it yourselves so you actually don't know what she looks like you dumbass. Stop assuming things." Sugawara explained to the two.

"NOOOO!!!! SHE ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE A GODDESS SUGA-SAN!! SHE HAS A BROWN HAIR, BLUE EYES, POINTED NOSE, AND HAVE A NICE LIPS" Hinata contradicts what Sugawara said.

"WAIT!!! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT HER LIPS HINATA???" Asahi said to Hinata weirdly.

"NOOO!!! IT'S NOT LIKE THAT!! IT'S JUST NOTICEABLE THAT'S ALL!!" Hinata denies.

"Ehh~ so the shrimp was a perv, eh?" Tsukishima butts in, teasing Hinata.

"TSUKISHIMA, YOU BASTARD!!!"

"Now now, let's all calm down. So Hinata, did you invite her here?" Suga said calming everyone down.

"YES!!! I ASKED HER SHE CAN COME TO THE GYM AT LUNCH BREAK IF SHE DOESN'T HAVE ANYTHING TO DO" Hinata proudly said.

"EHHHH!?!?!?! YOU DID THAT?!?!?! HINATA YOU'RE AN ANGEL!!!" Tanaka said with stars in his eyes like he just hit a jackpot.

"HINATA YOU BOKE! OF COURSE SHE HAD TO HAVE SOMETHING TO DO AT LUNCH BREAK! IT'S HER FIRST DAY AFTER ALL YOU BOKE" Kageyama said to the dumbfounded Hinata.

"BUT YOU DIDN'T SAID ANYTHING WHEN I ASKED HER YOU BAKAGEYAMA!!!" Hinata said, ready to pounce at Kageyama but was stopped when Sugawara held his shirt.

"Kageyama was right Hinata. She might have friends to have lunch with." Sugawara said to Hinata.

"EHHHHH!?!?!?!?! NO WAYYYY!?!?!?!?!" The idiots exclaimed dramatically.

Tsukishima snickered at them.

'So it's about a girl this time, huh?' Tsukishima thought.

"Tsukki, aren't you curious about that girl?" Yamaguchi asked his friend.

"Nah, it's just some random girl anyway. I'm sure there's nothing special about her considering that those idiots would literally praised every girl they see." Tsukishima replied boredly.

"Well if you say so." Yamaguchi shrugged.

Akemi's POV:

I knocked on the door and a young lady opened it.

"Uhm excuse me, I'm the transferee, may I just ask what class am I in? I'm a first year student." I said, telling her who I am.

"Oh so it's you. Wait right here, I'll just get you're schedule and I'll assist you to your room." She said looking at me.

"Thank you very much." I said to her, appreciating the offer.

She got my schedule and gave it me. 'Year 1- Class 5' . So that's my class, huh. I hope that they're nice.

I followed her and stopped when I saw a music room. She must notice me stopped because she turned around to looked at me.

"Oh, do you want to join the music club? Since you just transferred, you don't have any club yet. I can sign you up if you want." She said to me.

"Oh, it's not like that. It's just I remembered something. I don't think I would join any club, miss. But thanks for your suggestion." I said to her appreciately.

"Oh, okay. But if you don't join you'll not get extra curricular activities. Well it's your choice anyway, but if you ever changed your mind, feel free to join. Now let's get going." She said trying to understand why I don't want to join any club.

We reached my class and she asked me to wait here while she knocked and talk to the teacher.

"Kakashi-sensei, here's your new student." She said to him.

"Oh okay. I'm your homeroom teacher, I'm Kakashi-sensei, you can wait here and I'll just call you." He said, introducing himself to me.

"Okay."

He went back and said some things and called me. I went inside and they instantly looked at me. I got uncomfortable with their stares so I lowered my head. I stopped next to Kakashi-sensei and introduced myself.

"Hi! I'm Kudō Akemi. I'm from America. I hope we get along."

"You can sit next to Yachi-san, Yachi-san can you raised your arm so she can know who you are." Kakashi sensei said looking at the girl.

"Ah! Hai!" She said raising her arm. She looked kinda scared.

I walked towards the chair beside her. She looked at me so I smiled at her. She returned it awkwardly.

'She looked cute' I thought.

"I'm Kudō Akemi, nice to meet you."

"I-I'm Yachi H-hitoka, n-nice to m-meet you too." She looked nervous.

"It's okay, I won't bite you." I said to her smiling.

"You looked cute Hitoka-chan, can I call you that?" I asked her.

"AH YES! I'm sorry I'm just awkward around people. And you looked so beautiful!" She said to me.

"Thank you." Smiling at her. I then looked at the front since Kakashi-sensei was discussing now.

"H-hey, d-do you want t-to eat l-lunch with me l-later?" She asked me nervously.

I turned at her and smiled.

"Of course. Thank you for inviting me!"

She then smiled at me and we both giggled. We then focused back to the discussion.

'I hope I can be friends with her!' I thought excitedly.

Tsukishima's POV:

As I walked through the corridor, I've seen a girl that fits right in Hinata's description. They're right about her looking like a goddess. She seem to notice me staring at her so I quickly looked away. Yamaguchi also notices her.

"Hey Tsukki, isn't she the one they're talking about? She really looked like a goddess." He said and it irritated me.

I didn't even know why I'm irritated, it's true though so why am I feeling this way. The hell.

Yamaguchi notice me and asked what's wrong.

"Tsukki, what's wrong? Why are you looking like that?"

"It's nothing Yamaguchi, don't mind me." I said to him pretending to not be bothered.

What is she doing to me? That damn girl, I don't even know her! Well I'll just probably forget her right?

'Yeah, I'm just acting like this because she's new.' I conviced myself.

Yamaguchi really looked concerned so I quickly walked away not before looking at her for the last time.

Akemi's POV:

I noticed a tall blonde person looking at me, but he quickly looked away.

"Ne Hitoka-chan, who is that guy? That tall blonde person?" I asked her, curiosity visible in my face.

"That's Tsukishima Kei. I don't know much about him but he's in the volleyball team." She said.

Hmm. So he's teammate with Hinata-kun.

"Why are you asking who is him? Do you have a crush on him? NOOO YOU CAN'T!!! HE'S KNOWN TO HAVE A SHARP MOUTH AKEMI-CHAN AND HE DOESN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT WOMEN!" Hitoka-chan said to me worriedly.

"Don't worry, it's not like that. I just notice him looking at us." I explained to her.

"Ohhh! He's probably looking at you! You are beautiful so I'm sure it's the reason." She said.

"It's probably not that. Your the one who said he doesn't care about women, right?"

"But I'm sure if I'm a man and I've seen a person like you, I'll also be attracted to you! You're like an angel fallen from above!" She said.

"You're just exaggerating that Hitoka-chan. Let's just finish our lunch."

"Okay."

We went back to eating and I looked at the guy for the last time before focusing to my food.

'Tsukishima Kei, eh?' I thought.

What an interesting guy.

×××××××××××××××××××××

Thank you guys for reading! That's it for chapter 2. I hope you enjoy, lovelots❣

I also published it in wattpad, you guys can check it out if you want!

[pinnithin-writes]

Good Jokes

Chapter 8

The group gathered their affairs in order before heading back into the halls of Black Mesa. Gordon informed Benrey that he was allowed to tag along with them - a formality, really, as he’d be tagging along regardless - while Dr. Coomer took it upon himself to clear the canyon walls and have a look at what lay beyond. If there was any chance they could scamper out of hell by trekking through the desert, he’d let them know.

The scientist returned with nothing but a haunted expression on his face. “Well, Gordon,” he said, “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Why - what’s up there?” Gordon rested his hands on his waist in question. “How many hours of walking d’you think-”

“There’s nothing there,” Coomer intoned flatly.

Gordon exchanged a glance with Bubby. “What? Like, there’s no land?” he asked. “There’s gotta be like-”

Dr. Coomer interrupted again, staring him down insistently. “There’s nothing. There.”

Tommy was pretty certain that by “nothing,” Coomer meant hundreds of miles of dust and scrubland. Gordon, however, took it a little more literally than that.

“What if Black Mesa’s all there is?” he ventured, fear edging into his voice. “What if this is it?”

Tommy was about to tell him that this was probably not the case, and that Dr. Coomer was likely just caught off guard by the crushing reality of being in New Mexico in general, but before he could open his mouth, Bubby spoke up.

“Then we kill everyone and take it for ourselves,” he said with a shrug. He turned and headed for the blast doors without waiting for an answer from the others.

One by one, the team followed him, giving a farewell to the open sky before plunging back into the facility. Gordon was the last to go, and Tommy saw him let out a pained exhale as he cast one last glance at the stars.

“Man, I hope we make it out of here,” he said softly, and in that moment he looked so small, so vulnerable under the moon’s uncaring glow that Tommy almost broke apart just laying eyes on him.

Gordon turned. Caught him staring. He offered Tommy a weak, hasty smile, pieced together by whatever small shred of willpower he had left. “Let’s go,” he told him.

They went. More enemies were waiting for them on the other side, which they dutifully eliminated. They skirted a massive launch pad and entered the bunker adjacent to it, clearing the rooms one by one. Tommy pulled his weight and took out soldiers mechanically alongside his teammates. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get the scent of blood out of his clothes.

This appeared to be the control building for the launch pad outside, with the two points of interest being a computer lab and the control room itself. Gordon tried unsuccessfully to connect to the internet on one of the consoles, frustratedly tacking away at the keys while Benrey drawled some joke about editing his death into a Wikipedia article. While admittedly hilarious, Tommy wasn’t about to give the entity the satisfaction of laughing at something that was just a thinly veiled threat.

Gordon finally gave up trying to gain a signal on the computer. “I’m done with this,” he sighed. “Let’s leave.”

“I don’t understand, they must’ve been slacking off,” Tommy commented at Gordon’s back as he passed by him. “All of these computers are just looking at pictures of lettuce.”

Gordon’s footsteps faltered as he let out a snicker. He turned back to Tommy, showing off that pretty smile that still sprang readily to the surface, despite everything. “And I can’t seem to change the page they’re on,” he chuckled, whisking his hand across one of the keyboards as he played along.

The intercom interrupted their banter, announcing that the rocket was ready for launch. That was odd, Tommy thought, none of them had primed the launch sequence. At least, not that he could recall. Wait, where was Bubby?

Rushing to the control room, they arrived just in time to see the domed nose of the rocket thundering out of the bunker. Gordon threw the blast doors closed and everyone crowded around the window to watch. Distantly, Tommy could see a small figure clinging to the hull of the aircraft.

A familiar voice hollered outside. “My dream comes true! I’m leaving this world!”

Holy shit. Bubby didn’t even get inside the rocket.

“Crazy son of a bitch,” Gordon murmured in awe, eyes tracking the missile’s upward climb.

Beside Tommy, Dr. Coomer clutched at his face. “Bubby, no!” he cried, his voice thin with distress. “There’s nothing out there!”

Only the teeth-rattling rumble of the rocket could be heard for a while as they all watched it disappear into the sky. Silence fell. Gordon was stunned, blinking heavily out the blast door window, while Benrey sat a ways off on the console, looking bored. Dr. Coomer was holding onto himself, an elbow clutched in each hand, with a mournful expression on his face. His concern for Bubby was touching, and Tommy didn’t know how to delicately inform him that his friend had likely incinerated in the earth’s atmosphere and would reappear within minutes.

And reappear he did, crashing into the room with an elated declaration of, “Gordon! I was in outer space!”

Gordon whirled, startled. “You’re - no, you-”

“Bubby!” Coomer elbowed past Gordon. “Is that you?”

Bubby rushed to meet him. “Yes! Dr. Coomer,” he replied, pulling the other man into a tight embrace.

Tommy lanced a brows-raised look at Benrey, who had idly been watching the whole exchange from his perch on the console. When did that happen? he mouthed.

The entity caught his gaze. When did what happen? he mouthed back churlishly.

Tommy made a discontented noise in the back of his throat and shook his head.

Gordon was rubbing the side of his face with one hand, looking utterly spent. “I vote… we rest here, because that’s gotta be just sleep deprivation at this point, right?” he tossed a weary gesture toward Bubby. “And we can lock this place up with all the doors... This is a good place to rest. I think we need to call it a day.”

After making a thorough rotation of the compound, securely locking and barricading the entrances, the team settled down to sleep. Dr. Coomer volunteered to take the first watch, propping himself up against the computer console to wait, while the others picked out spots on the floor. Tommy didn’t feel very comfortable letting his guard down in any room Benrey inhabited, choosing instead to remain upright and awake in case the entity tried anything. It wasn’t like he needed to sleep, anyway.

Gordon, exhausted, had no qualms of his own. “Goodnight, Benrey,” he yawned, sprawling out on the tile. “Goodnight, Bubby. Goodnight, Tommy.”

The hair on the back of Tommy’s neck suddenly prickled in a familiar way. Someone was nearby. Someone he knew.

“Goodnight, Tommy,” Gordon repeated drowsily.

Tommy cast him a distracted look, briefly meeting his half-lidded, sleepy gaze. Oh, wow. What a pleasant sight, seeing him all soft around the edges like that. Was Gordon waiting for Tommy to wish him goodnight back? That was nice, but...

“I don’t need to sleep yet,” he responded with some hesitance.

“Now, Tommy, we’ve discussed this,” Coomer asserted, even though they hadn’t. “It’s important to get your rest.”

Gordon abruptly propped up on his elbows, eyes bright and alert as they fixed on something past Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy followed his gaze, just barely catching a tall man in a crisp suit disappearing around the corner.

Gordon was up in a blink. “Stay here,” he told them, waving a hand as he strode quickly after the figure.

Shit. Tommy scrambled to his feet and followed him. Gordon’s pace was so brisk that Tommy barely rounded the corner in time to catch him exchanging words with his father. His tone was sharp, interrogative. His father responded, smooth and even. Tommy stood back with hands in the pockets of his slacks. He didn’t dare interrupt.

Drained as he was, Gordon eventually turned away from the shimmering mirage that was Tommy’s father. “It’s not real,” he muttered, shouldering past Tommy to return to the control room. “It’s not real.”

Tommy watched him go, then flicked his gaze to the man at the other end of the computer lab. “Hey, Dad.”

His father raised a casual hand, and Tommy felt a wave of energy bubble outward to surround them. The screensavers froze on the nearby computers. The hands on the wall clock stuck fast. Tommy let it wash over him, grateful for the stillness.

“Hello, Thomas,” his father smiled, stepping closer, smooth as glass. “I trust you’re doing well.”

Tommy raised and dropped his shoulders in a shrug. “Well, I mean, I am. Sorta. But things are getting real scary in here.”

“Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.” his father said, tilting his head mildly as he surveyed his son. His eyes were a contradiction, cold as outer space, burning like a dying star. Lesser men would wilt under such a gaze, but Tommy had been raised by it. Found it familiar.

“Ye - sure. I’m... yeah,” he answered carefully. “A little more information would be nice, though.”

His father arched an eyebrow delicately. “Tommy, this is an unprecedented occurrence, there’s only so much that I know, and even less that I can share with you.”

Tommy was aware. This wasn’t his first time being a piece in one of his father’s chess games, and while he was rarely a pawn, it didn’t feel much better to be a knight or a rook, either. All of the pieces were kept in the dark, and the less they knew, the less likely they were to deviate from their assigned roles. He understood why his father did it this way, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

At least Tommy knew it was a game, and he got to choose whether he played along. That put him leagues ahead of the others, who had no idea their actions were all predicted and planned beforehand. Their sense of control was fabricated, and every step they took toward their own goals was furthering the ends of another.

Tommy was sorely tempted to tap out, call it quits, tell his father, stop, this is too much, I want out. That option was always available to him, to blink out of the plane until this all blew over. Leave the team, fully capable of taking care of themselves, high and dry.

But.

“Why are you watching Mr. Freeman?” Tommy asked, folding his arms more as a self-soothing gesture than an act of confrontation.

A smile flickered across his father’s face. “He plays a critical part in making sure this disaster is mitigated.”

He suspected as much, but the truth still made his shoulders sag. “He just wants to go home, I think,” he said quietly.

“You are fond of him,” his father answered.

It wasn't a question, and Tommy didn’t deny it. “He’s... the only person here who seems to care,” he explained, and he heard his own voice shake even as he said it.

“So you can see why I chose him.”

Tommy let out a frustrated noise. “He’s just one guy.”

“How fortunate, then,” his father said, “that he has you.”

Tommy fell silent. His father had hand-picked his messiah, and, as planned, Tommy couldn’t bring himself to leave Gordon behind. He would walk with him every step of the way, wherever his path took him. Tommy wished desperately that he could see himself as Gordon’s protector, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was just leading the guy like a lamb to the slaughter.

He raised his eyes to meet his father’s as he watched Tommy patiently. They were a striking visage, a warped mirror of one another as they stood face to face in the frozen computer room. Tommy in his lab coat and dress shoes, wrinkled and haggard, stained with blood. His father, crisp and sleek in his business suit, calm and composed as he always was. Tommy wondered if he’d ever look like that. He wasn’t even sure he really wanted to.

His father heaved a sigh that shivered the silence around them. “I will tell you this, Tommy,” he said. “Tomorrow will be particularly difficult for both of you. I trust you will make the right decision.”

That advice was maddeningly vague. The past 48 hours had been pretty fucking difficult as they were. What, besides infantrymen, extraterrestrials, and the environmental hazards lurking in Black Mesa, could his father feel compelled to warn him about?

“Wait,” Tommy stretched out a hand as his father began to warp out of the room. “Difficult how?”

But the clock was ticking again. He was already gone.

Chapter 7 <-----> Chapter 9

[jeanandthedreamofhorses]

Eren the Free, Part 1: Response to linkspooky’s ‘Eren the Slave’

Thanks for asking for my response, anon, because it has allowed me to string together and articulate my own thoughts on Eren’s character at this stage of the story.

Needless to say, I have several interpretive, philosophical disagreements with @linkspooky‘s ‘Eren the Slave’ and these are expressed in my ‘Eren Jaeger – Who Freer than the Tyrant?’ meta, so please read that first. The purpose of this post will be to argue against specific claims made in linkspooky’s meta and tackle what I believe to be logical flaws in my opponent’s argument. This meta is in two parts not to flex but because my computer had an aneurysm trying to load the whole post.

Well, if the Defence in the trial of Eren Jaeger may take the floor, my opening statement is thus: Eren is no slave, and has pursued the path of freedom further than any other character.

Narrative and Personal Narrative

linkspooky draws a distinction between the Narrative of the manga and Eren’s Personal Narrative, the story he tells himself. They argue that people who have faith in Eren’s self-conception fall into his personal narrative.

But is his story not a Narrative? It is quite natural to expect character development from characters in a story - it could only rightly be called a mistake when it comes to real life. And do Eren’s detractors not themselves fall into the Personal Narratives of Armin, Mikasa and Zeke? They have repeatedly made the statement that Eren is not free, that he is being controlled by Zeke or Grisha, and every time he has proven them wrong.

There is indeed an authorial Narrative separate from the characters’ Personal Narratives which can be detected through symbolism and the course the story takes. I find that the course of the story thus far lines up far more with Eren’s Personal Narrative than it does with those of his detractors. We can tell this from how he has disproved Armin, Mikasa and Zeke’s accusations of manipulation and also how, in the last chapter, he symbolically rips free of his chains.

There is also the fact that we the readers are more in the dark about Eren’s thoughts and intentions than we are about any other character. How could we be seduced into a Personal Narrative we know next to nothing about? And why would the story deliberately hide from us the very perspective that is meant to deceive us? I think it is far more likely that the reason Eren’s intentions have been shielded from the reader is because they take the nature of a terrible truth that must be dug up with bloodied hands.

Whenever Eren opens up about his thoughts and feelings, the meta unfairly dismisses them as mere lip service despite Eren having no reason to lie to Reiner and Falco as two people he intends to kill.

Rather than our side of the fandom being deceived by Eren’s Personal Narrative, I find that the opposing side dismisses it out of hand because they have no intention of listening to Eren’s side of the story. Why is Eren’s perspective less valid than anyone else’s, especially when he knows more than every other character by virtue of his ability to literally see the future?

The only explanation I can find for this attitude, if I may be forgiven the presumption, is that people approach the topic with the automatic assumption that what Eren is doing has to be wrong instead of questioning their own morals - which is, after all, what Attack On Titan is all about.

Armin even says that he no longer understands Eren. I don’t think we should trust the perception of a character as being authorial Narrative when he explicitly makes a statement like this. linkspooky does have an explanation for this scene, however, which I shall address in the next part.

Armin and Mikasa’s Perceptions of Eren

linkspooky claims that the reason for Armin’s confusion is that his romanticised view of Eren is falling apart, which indeed it is, and the same is true of Mikasa. However, I don’t think it’s right to claim that their new perception of him is an accurate one, since they still haven’t heard anything from Eren himself apart from what both I and linkspooky agree are lies to distance himself from them.

While they both once focused excessively on the positive in Eren, now they focus excessively on the negative, not considering the reason for Eren’s actions that I believe we have received hints of in the last two chapters.

linkspooky and I both think that Eren wants to protect his friends - in my case I most definitely see it as his primary motivation. If Armin knew this about Eren, I do not think he would condone him, but I don’t think he’d so roundly condemn him as he does here either.

So I don’t think it is right to consider Armin’s words the straight truth here, given the lack of information he’s working with, and that indeed, the fandom is working with. Because Eren is doing the most morally questionable things, and because we are seeing things more often from Armin’s perspective than his these days, there is perhaps an impulse to put faith in Armin’s words over Eren’s. But in this series, nothing is ever so black and white.

In Mikasa’s case, her treasured memory of the scarf is now being being challenged by the memory of Eren murdering the kidnappers - but we know from 121 that Eren places special value on the scarf as well, instead of just the murder.

Rather than trying to paint Eren in a white or black light, they need to see Eren as he really is: like the freedom he represents, a force beyond good and evil. 

Enemy of the World

One of linkspooky’s arguments is that being the ‘Enemy of the World’ is just Eren’s fantasy as he frequently relies on others. However, linkspooky also mentions how Eren manipulates everyone close to him. I would argue that the person who manipulates you is, in fact, your enemy, and that Eren is the Enemy of the World not because he never relies on help but because he is entirely on his own side.

Indeed he knows that assistance from others is necessary even just to activate the Founder’s power, and he also refers to the Survey Corps as his friends, or even comrades, depending on your translation.

This is why he manipulates them - and the reason he manipulates rather than relying on them is because he feels that his Will contradicts the Wills of everyone around him. There is no-one who desires the outcome that Eren desires, not even Floch and the Eldian nationalists, I believe: I think even they will baulk at the scale of destruction Eren intends. Historia is the only character I think may be an exception to this rule as the other bearer of the ‘enemies of mankind’ moniker. 

This otherwise total isolation of intention is what makes Eren the Enemy of the World. Because he fights for his freedom, he rebels against peace.

I think this panel is another example of why the authorial Narrative itself supports the idea of Eren being an Enemy of the World. The positioning of the speech bubble and outside text was entirely the decision of Isayama and his editor, and is not a thought bubble from Eren’s head. He has never actually addressed himself as ‘the Enemy of the World’: Historia calls him the enemy of mankind and Willy says he rebels against peace, but while Eren has said he “might just destroy the world” and only in response to Willy’s words, he is still not ascribing himself a title or role.

Eren’s Individualism

linkspooky claims that the scene in the FT arc, where the Levi Squad is slaughtered because Eren didn’t rely on his power instead of theirs, is misinterpreted because Eren also lost the fight on his own. However, this is where I think this meta falls prey to one of its greatest weaknesses: the omission of the Uprising Arc from the analysis of Eren’s character, wherein his most pivotal transitions take place.

The event that caused Eren to trust in his own strength over the strength of others was not his fight against Annie, but when a similar situation repeats itself in the Crystal Cave.

In this circumstance, Eren is able to protect all of his friends by relying on his own strength, when they would have died had they attempted their risky manoeuvre. Eren has become strong enough to protect them on his own - this was the first inkling of that realisation.

I say ‘first inkling’ because Eren does say this afterwards, which seems to influence Armin towards his current ideology. Such an idea seems at odds with what I believe to be Eren’s current aim to genocide those different to him as a wholly antagonistic force, like the bullies in Armin’s memories who Armin now wants to make peace with.

I believe this is because Eren soon learns that those differences between people are simply too great and too much of a threat to his freedom. People are stronger together, but only if he can be confident that they will follow his Will, which is how he learned to manipulate his allies. The differences between him and Levi in the Serumbowl nearly caused the loss of his best friend, and then, when he receives Grisha’s memories and learns of Marley’s treatment of Eldians, he learns just how deeply divided humans are and loses faith in overcoming those differences.

Far from character stagnancy, this is the development I see in Eren that has led him to this individualistic conclusion.

I would also like to address what I think is a fallacy in linkspooky’s analysis of the fight Eren loses against Annie. Eren loses both with his comrades and without them - how does that make the former path any better than the latter? Eren was actually doing very well in his fight against Annie, and only lost when he realised her identity from her fighting stance.

What I think Eren really took away from that fight is the lesson he is applying now - he cannot show any mercy to his enemies.

Levi Parallelism

I find the parallels drawn between Eren and Levi quite interesting and am not necessarily opposed to it, but personally I find that Levi has more parallels with Mikasa than Eren as two Ackermans driven by their love for others (though of course this is a big part of Eren’s motivation as well). Mikasa realising she can’t protect Eren or always be by his side is more in line with Levi accepting that he can’t save everyone imo.

Those Who Push Themselves into that Hell

linkspooky draws attention to Eren’s use of language to indicate that he is not free, such as in the following scene: 

They argue that the ‘something’ pushing Eren along means he is not moving from his own will.

However, I find this claim to be contradicted by the distinction Eren makes within this very scene. He differentiates between those who are pushed into hell by their circumstances and those who “push themselves into hell”, clearly putting himself - at least as he is now - in the latter category. So I find that Eren is articulating that, because his whole past and future are manifestations of his own Will (as I argue in the attached meta), he is freely choosing to enter this arena rather than being forced to do so.

I Just Keep Moving Forward

linkspooky also argues that the reluctance in the line “I just keep moving forward’” suggests a lack of freedom. I would argue that continuing to fight for your goal even though you are frightened is a sign of strength of will rather than the reverse.

They also argue that, because those words are remembered as Reiner is about to kill himself, they are portrayed in a negative light. But this omits the crucial follow-up to that scene, where Reiner does not kill himself and finds a reason to live after hearing Falco express his desire to protect Gabi. Reiner is saved by that will to keep moving forward.

They further argue that Eren takes these words from Hange and twists them to suit himself.

But this is untrue. As they pointed out themself, Eren first heard these words in his training days from Reiner where it did mean what he thinks it means. Furthermore, there is no panel showing Eren having any special reaction to Hange’s words. He is shown with the other key Serumbowl players before Hange says them, but not afterwards, where the focus is solely on Mikasa.

I believe Isayama has Hange say Eren’s tagline because it is a key phrase in the themes of the story, and not because it has any special effect on Eren.

I Didn’t Have Any Other Choice

Lines such as “I didn’t have any other choice” and “Is there another way” are similarly argued to be indicative of Eren’s enslavement to a single course of action.

But this is just the conflict between long and short term gratification – enduring hardship to obtain your goal is an example of a strong will, not an enslaved one. Even if he is enslaved to circumstance, this is the case for everybody else as well, and it is an enslavement he seeks to permanently free himself from by crushing his enemies for good. After that, he and Eldia can do whatever they will.

Born This Way

The lines “I’ve always been that way, ever since I was born”, and “It’s probably been like this since the day we were born” are argued to be a form of enslavement to one’s sense of self. I cover this in my attached meta, where I argue that it is rather an affirmation of his own Will and right to exist.

One specific point I’d like to address is the claim that Eren saying those words after Reiner tries to take personal responsibility for his actions is evidence that Eren is running away from his guilt, and is therefore not at peace with his actions, and is therefore not free. But rather than in denial or frustrated, Eren appears to be in a state of sad serenity.

Eren does not say these words in immediate response to Reiner, but only after he hears Willy say “Because I was born into this world”. I think that here Eren is simply recognising that Reiner was simply following the unique nature of his Will - doing it because he wanted to, not because he had to, which is indeed what Eren is doing - and acknowledging that it is something he cannot criticise him for, but also something that he cannot spare him for. That is the command of Eren’s unique Will.

As for Eren not being at peace with his actions meaning he is not free, refer to the short/long term gratification point I made earlier.

Jealousy of Mikasa and the Need to be a One Man Army

linkspooky claims that Eren is still trying too hard to be as strong as Mikasa and Levi, but once again the meta suffers due to a lack of consideration for the Uprising Arc. In that arc, Eren got over his jealousy of Mikasa and Levi and explicitly stated as much.

This, I think, is also sufficient evidence against a persisting desire on Eren’s part to be a One Man Army (as opposed to freedom, which he does have a desire for). His words here make it clear that he wishes to fight alongside his friends if possible. He has simply learnt that, to achieve his goals, ruthless manipulation and rugged individualism is necessary.

Need to be Special

This is also something Eren overcame in the Uprising Arc. He thinks of himself as a normal person, the son of a special father, that he never needed to happen.

He is not doing all of this to be special. He has simply become special by pursuing his birthright: not a birthright of exceptionalism, but of the right to exist, something I shall explain further in the ‘Meaning of Carla’s Words’ section in the next part.

As with the One Man Army, it is a matter of necessity rather than desire. I cover this more in my attached Eren meta, but Eren’s character has developed in a perfect loop. Though his actions remain the same, his understanding of them has increased dramatically: that is to say, he has come to understand himself.

Indeed, people are not naturally special. But can one really argue that special people do not exist at all? To say such a thing would be to argue that there is no difference between Daz and Erwin. People become special -  Supermen, to reference Nietzsche - because they relentlessly pursue their Will to Power, their driving force to actualise their desires.

linkspooky also argues that the reason Eren’s change is the most dramatic after the time-skip is because in actuality he hasn’t changed. My argument is that it is simply the result of having the most explicit and tumultuous development in the story up to now, and crucially, the ability to see a future no-one else can.

Read the rest in Part 2 here!

[ohdearhiddles]

TITLE: Angel of Death

CHAPTER: 7/? (Chapter Masterlist)

WORD COUNT: 8361

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: this was supposed to be posted on tuesday, but i’m currently staying with my sister on the other side of the country and have been helping decorate her place. i’m going to try to have the next chapter out by the end of this week though to try to put myself back on schedule. this chapter is unedited x (AO3 LINK)

TAGLIST: @inumorph​ @literally-anythin​

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for anything :) x

Veleda lied.

That was your conclusion as the week had come to a very uneventful end. Almost a week had passed and there were no sudden changes, no people coming to congratulate you on being free from a curse, not that you expected anyone to do that, and there were no obvious things happening around you that could be accurately described as change or an ending of suffering. What exactly counted as change? Surely, Loki may have known, but if he did, he wouldn’t say.

Am I just impatient? You wondered as you stared off into space.

A book sat in your lap as you laid, sprawled out on the couch as if you were never planning on moving. Which, by all means, was entirely true. There was absolutely no point in moving when you had nowhere to be, no friends to contact, and no police knocking on your door.

You shut your eyes, letting your mind roam to the endless possibilities behind the word “change.” Perhaps you fell asleep in that small amount of time - a deep, dreamless sleep. To say you were exhausted would have been considered an understatement. You were more than just exhausted, and there was nothing left to do besides wait for a certain God of Mischief to come knocking at your door. If he ever did, that is.

Maybe you hadn’t slept at all, and you had simply thought too deeply and lost your train of thought entirely, sitting in silence with a mind so blank and body so still, you could have been mistaken as dead.

When you opened your eyes, the glowing emerald eyes of Loki were above you. At first, you thought to scream, but then you realized that the walls were thick, but they weren’t thick enough to block out a blood curdling scream. Besides, how could you scream with such beauty looking down at you?

You grinned sleepily at him, sitting up. Loki offered his hand to you but you waved him off. From your spot on the sofa, you could see a shopping bag sitting on the kitchen counter. Squinting at it, you opened your mouth to question the god.

“Ingredients for dinner,” he answered, already knowing what you were going to ask. “You mentioned that there were items you were missing.”

You nodded, “Shall we start, then?”

Loki had expressed the previous night that he had never really cooked anything before, and of course, you took that as a challenge to get the god to cook with you. With the boxes of spaghetti noodles and long forgotten cans of crushed tomatoes sitting in your pantry, you figured it would be an easy feat to overcome. Something to cross off the immortal being’s nonexistent bucket list.

However, with every second that passed in the kitchen, it was proving more difficult than you had hoped. Every instruction you seemed to give to Loki was met with quick and decisive yeses and the occasional phrase, “I am not feeble-minded.” The amount of times you rolled your eyes as he continuously did things incorrectly was immeasurable - he was horrible at cooking. You decided that very quickly.

Some part of you really wished you had thought of the fact that your kitchen was very small, because that meant there wasn’t much space to move around. Half the time, you were practically hovering over each other, to which you had to keep reminding yourself to keep your distance. Loki barely seemed to mind being in such close proximity to you, and you wondered if he really didn’t care or if he was just very good at hiding it.

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching as Loki began to tilt the can of crushed tomatoes in order to pour it into the boiling water with the barely cooked noodles. He paused, following your gaze to the can in his hands. The god sighed, placing it on the counter as you attempted to stifle your laughter.

“Do you find this amusing?” He asked, seemingly upset at your poor attempt to hide your gaiety. At the upset look, you only choked out more giggles. Loki closed his eyes, a distressed sigh escaping his lips while a contradicting grin appeared in its stead. “Please, do carry on. Laugh all you wish instead of helping me.”

“I thought,” you sputtered, covering your mouth with your hand before another laugh could unleash itself. “I thought you weren’t stupid, oh glorious one.” Loki’s eyes were trained on you, probably wondering why you found the events so amusing. You couldn’t find it in yourself to care if he was offended, because the fact of the matter was, you were having fun. Having fun didn’t have to lead to kissing, and he said himself that he didn’t want to sit around and mope all day. However, that did make you wonder what it was that he did when he wasn’t with you.

“Out,” he ordered, fighting the smile that was so stubbornly trying to make an appearance. Playfully pouting at him, you spun on your heel, turning to walk towards the living room.

You took a seat at the counter, watching as Loki fumbled with various ingredients as if he knew what he was doing. Perhaps he did, but from all you could see, he seemed as though he was struggling to figure anything out. A small giggle escaped your lips as he dropped some spices on the ground. He let out a frustrated huff, peering up at you through his messy locks that he had unsuccessfully tried to keep tucked behind his ears. When he turned away, you could have sworn there was a grin on his face.

“Need some help?” You asked, knowing that he would probably just ignore you. Which he did.

So, instead, you tapped your fingers against the countertop, chin resting in your palm as you watched every glorious muscle in his back move with ease. You mentally sighed, wondering how much longer you’d be able to see him so lively - so beautiful.

To you, it just didn’t seem fair that he had to take part in such a strange, twisted fate because of something like a kiss. How could the world be so cruel? How could the universe put this dangerously handsome god in front of you and ask you not to be tempted? Not only that, but how could they have allowed him to be even the least bit interested in you? Fate was twisted.

You continued to watch as Loki finally seemed to figure out how to make it look like he knew what he was doing. By then, the moonlight was trickling in, highlighting his figure from where he stood. Silence danced on the walls, echoing the faintest sounds of clattering dishes as you sat there observing.

Before you knew it, Loki was placing a plate of his creation in front of you. The smell of spices filled your senses, drowning out everything else as he sat beside you with his own dinner. It was then that you noticed that he had already given you utensils as well as a glass of water, but if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t entirely sure when he had done so.

Loki’s eyes were pleading with yours in the most childish of ways, watching expectantly as you picked up your fork. Eat it, his mind seemed to scream at you, wanting to see your reaction before all else. Without hesitation, you began to eagerly dig in, hoping to appease the god. It was an action you regretted almost immediately after putting the first forkful in your mouth.

You chewed slowly, feeling your mouth ignite with a pungent taste that could only mean that Loki most certainly did not know what he was doing in the kitchen. After swallowing, you gripped your glass of water, attempting to appear unfazed by the overpowering flavor profile you had just experienced. Shutting your eyes tightly, trying not to cough, you took a long sip from the glass. Upon opening your eyes, you saw Loki’s confused stare.

Attempting to smile, you took another sip of water. “It’s… lovely, Loki.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at your hesitant opinion before following your actions to take a bite of the spaghetti. You watched as he seemed to freeze as the flavors touched his tongue, squeezing his eyes shut as if he were in pain. You bit your lip while you watched, holding in a laugh that would most certainly cause him to either get annoyed or adorably embarrassed. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing before he cleared his throat, placing his fork to the side.

An uneasy grin made its way onto his features, and even as sheepish as he looked, he was still breathtaking. Unfair, you thought, chewing on your bottom lip as he met your eyes.

“Perhaps,” Loki began. “Cooking is not a talent I possess.”

“Or, perhaps, you just need to listen to your mentor,” you teased, a hesitant smile playing on your lips as he held your gaze. Loki offered a glare in your direction, but you could see the playful undertones to it. Trying to keep the light atmosphere, you grabbed your fork again. As torturous as the heat was that overpowered the taste of the food, you couldn’t help but feel bad that his first attempt at cooking had gone so horribly wrong.

Before you could even shove another regretful forkful in your mouth, Loki was grabbing the plate from in front of you. His plate rested in his other hand as he stood to his feet. “You needn’t force yourself to eat such a vile platter,” he muttered, and you could have sworn that there was a light blush gracing his cheeks as he walked around the counter to dispose of the food.

What a waste, you thought, standing from your spot. It could’ve been worse, though. As you stood, you felt the soft vibration of your phone in your pocket.

“Hello?” You spoke into the receiver, walking over to the sofa. Taking a single glance over your shoulder, you saw Loki rummaging through your pantry, probably trying to put things back. Probably in all the wrong places.

“Turn on the news,” the voice of your mother resonated through the speaker. Her voice seemed strained as she spoke, and it put an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Grabbing the remote, you felt the uneasy feeling only grow as you began to flip to the one channel you avoided at all costs ever since the first time you realized that you were behind the deaths of almost a dozen individuals.

When you finally found the channel, your eyes widened. Even with the muted volume, you could see the footage, and with that, it wasn’t too hard to figure out what they were talking about. The TV showed a clip of you being motioned into apolice vehicle, and you felt your heart plummet as your face appeared on the screen.

“Mom,” you choked out, attempting to hide any emotion in your voice. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Before she could even protest, you had hung up the phone, eyes trained on the screen. Your jaw clenched as you took in the sight before you. The bold words, “Suspect Brought in For Questioning” were displayed on the lower portion of the screen. You weren’t even an official suspect, were you?

Everything around you seemed to drown out as you felt a brooding darkness begin to seep through your skin and flow through your veins. It was almost as if you were six years younger, watching your world crumble for the first time - the first time you ever realized that things would never be the same. The room began to feel colder and the lights seemed to dim in your vision; then suddenly, the screen went black, and you could see Loki’s shadow beside you.

“No wonder people have been looking at me funny all week,” you muttered. “That’s probably how Veleda knew me, too.” You ran your fingers through your hair, tugging at the strands as if to punish yourself for even bothering to think that you deserved things like having fun. “Fuck, Loki, they have my face all over the news. There’s probably people gossiping about me already, you know that’s what they do, right? Everyone I know and everyone I don’t know are going to have a very similar opinion on how horrible a person I am by the end of tonight.”

“You are not a horrible person,” his voice was low as he spoke, repeating the words he seemed to say far too often. Loki tossed a towel onto the back of the sofa, and you realized that he had probably come out to the living room while drying his hands just to find you sulking. You looked down at the floor, hands clawing at the clothing covering your thighs. You could feel darkness beginning to overtake you again

“How many times are you going to say that?” You said, eyes shutting tightly at the frustration pulsing through your body. It wasn’t directed at Loki, nor was it directed at the news. It was pure, scathing frustration and pent up anger boiled over the course of years at yourself. How could you have allowed things to get so far? Why did you not turn yourself in the moment you found out what you had done? “How many times are you going to allow yourself to be led astray by me? I look all good and normal, I’m sure, but I’ve killed people, and there’s no going back from that.”

“If killing corresponds with the type of person you are, then tell me,” Loki’s voice was still calm. “Why are heroes so glorified? Have they not done their own fair share of killing to claim such titles?” You didn’t understand how an individual could have such control over their voice. For a moment you wondered how many times Loki had to mask his emotions in order to be that in control; however, the thought was slightly heartbreaking, seeing as though he had been alive for over a millennium.

“That’s different,” you countered his words.

“Ah,” he said, and you opened your eyes to see his shadow merge with yours, signifying that he was directly behind you. “Different in scenario, perhaps, but not in action. You did not kill with darkness in your heart.”

“I don’t get it,” you huffed, growing even more frustrated as you turned to face him. He wasn���t as close as you had thought, but the close proximity still caused you to take a step back in hopes of increasing the distance. “Why are you being so persistent?”

“Why are you being so persistent?” He retorted, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

“This is infuriating,” you grumbled under your breath before raising your voice. “You’re defending me. You kissed me, got told you’re going to die, and you’re defending me. You must be mad, do you know that?”

“Perhaps I am, but as you can see, I am not dead yet.”

You froze, processing his words. As you turned the words over and over in your head, you realized that he was right. A week had passed and it was overall uneventful - no death, no croaking, and no blood. Nothing. No positive or negative events seemed to have taken place. Nothing had changed. That wasn’t right; that could not possibly be right. Usually, by now, the men were gone - tipped over the iceberg of no return and well on their way to whatever came after death. Was there no time limit for Loki? Did it apply differently for him?

“I mean this in the nicest way possible, I swear, but why aren’t you dead?”

“You ask as if I would know the answer to such a question,” Loki scoffed.

Ignoring his words, you continued questioning him. “Does it not affect you?”

“I don’t know-”

“Or does it not affect you the same because you’re a god?”

Loki took a step closer, his eyebrows drawing together as you bombarded him with questions. “Once again, I do not have the answer for such questions.”

This time, you allowed yourself to step closer to him, eyes searching his face for any ailment whatsoever. “Are you feeling okay?” You asked, instinctively reaching up to touch his forehead before retreating your hand, not wanting to cross that line despite how closely the two of you stood. “You don’t feel sick or anything?”

“I feel fine.” Loki’s hands were running through his hair as if he, too, were growing frustrated with the conversation.

“Then-” You began to speak again. Loki, however, seemed to have had quite enough of such incessant rambling from you. In one swift motion, his hand reached up to press against your cheek as he surged forward, pressing his lips onto yours with more force than you could have possibly been ready for. His other hand rested firmly at the small of your back, supporting the weight of his sudden attack as he guided your body backwards. You were glad for the extra support as you stumbled backwards, following his lead as he pressed your body to the wall beside the window.

“Silence,” he mumbled, drawing back slightly to practically whisper the words onto your lips, wishing them into effect. Perhaps it was the adrenaline from such a sudden action, or maybe it was the fact that Loki didn’t seem affected by whatever curse threatened those who came too close to you. Maybe, just maybe, it was because it was him, and you couldn’t find a single part of you that would want to reject his advances right now despite knowing the possible outcome.

You knew your feelings, but you didn’t know his. Loki was over a thousand years old; he had centuries to learn how to sweet talk a woman and how to get her to succumb to his touch without a single grievance. He had an immeasurable amount of time in which he could have practiced that. You, on the other hand, still felt giddy at the idea of just being touched by someone who had a mutual attraction to you.

Loki hadn’t tried to touch you since the initial kiss, and it could probably be explained with the immense amount of regret he most likely felt after it occurred. After he realized he had risked his life for something as small as a mortal’s kiss - a mortal who may or may not mean something to him, he was surely mortified. Now that the god knew that you might not be able to cause any harm to his immortal being, was he intent on getting his way?

Your thoughts were brushed aside as Loki’s hand moved to your neck, caressing the skin lightly as he seemed to urge you to respond. When you didn’t reciprocate the kiss, he pulled away, eyes glazed over with a strange and seemingly displaced vulnerability. “Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against your own. “Do not make me beg.”

Your eyes widened at his words. His thumb brushed your jaw and you swallowed thickly before bringing your hand up to grip his wrist, giving it a light squeeze. You reached up with your free hand, letting your fingertips brush the skin on his cheek as you gazed down at the almost nonexistent space between your bodies. Everything in you screamed and cried to touch him, cherish him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered, repeating the words you had said the first time he had placed his irresistible lips on yours. Even with such words escaping your mouth, you found yourself gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling him ever so closer. Loki smiled gently down at you, leaning forward, and just as his breath fanned against your lips, he replied: “Don’t think about that.”

And so, you didn’t. You allowed your mind to go completely blank, letting go of every worry as Loki’s lips captured your own once again. This time, you ran your fingers through his hair, enjoying the feeling of the soft locks slipping through your fingers. This was right. How could you have ever thought this was wrong?

Loki cupped your cheeks with his hands, thumbs pressing lightly on your chin to allow for his tongue to slip into your mouth. Electricity pulsed through your veins as his tongue massaged your own, tasting you.

Your eyes fell shut, every bit of your senses being entranced by the God of Mischief’s scent, his taste, his touch. As you inhaled, you could smell a faint cedar and mint scent that was both calming and alluring. As you allowed him to taste you, you, in turn, tasted him. And as he touched your skin, your body reacted with fiery passion. His fingers left your skin burning; you almost feared that you would turn to ash in his hands.

When he finally pulled back, you couldn’t help but follow his lips, not wanting to disrupt such bliss. But Loki’s grip on your cheeks stopped you from getting too far. You opened your eyes, meeting the gaze of the god standing in front of you. A lazy smile was adorning his features, and you almost wanted to take a picture to commemorate the moment.

His touch lingered as his hands fell to his sides; you were certain you would melt from how hot your skin felt. Leaning forward, he placed a languid kiss to your forehead, letting his lips hover in their place for a few seconds before he finally stepped back. The silence between you two was one of peace. Neither one of you broke eye contact as you seemed to process the events of the night.

“Did,” you stuttered, “Did you finish cleaning up in the kitchen?”

Loki shut his eyes, breaking eye contact, and let out a laugh. “Is that truly all you can think to say?”

Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks as you blushed. It had been a while since your last encounter like this one, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed about what had just happened. “I’m only joking, darling.”

The term of endearment did not go unnoticed as Loki turned away, walking to the kitchen as if nothing had happened at all. A smile ghosted your lips as you followed closely behind to offer a helping hand.

As you helped him clean the pots and pans, there was a lightness to the air that had been missing since before the initial kiss you shared. Loki’s hands occasionally grazed yours as the two of you washed the dishes scattered along the counter and stove, and you couldn’t help but smile. Part of you, however, screamed. It urged you to take into account the news and the danger that you could put the god in. Even if he was nonchalant about the possible repercussions, you needed to stay wary.

So, when he finally left, you stayed awake. You wondered about it all and if you could afford to be so careless. But then you thought about how Loki’s hands caressed your skin and how he had practically pleaded with you to reciprocate his actions, and you couldn’t find a reason to dwell too much on something that the god so easily brushed aside. Perhaps he was different. Perhaps he was the change you so desperately needed.

***

The following day was much like the one before. Loki was quite happy to express that he had spent the night reading recipes and learning how to properly prepare food without almost killing you with an outrageous amount of spice.

Before he had arrived, you spent your time lounging about, sitting by the window and watching as the sun’s rays beamed on all who graced the streets. When you had first woken, you had contemplated the idea of going out, walking around, and perhaps even doing some shopping. The idea was short lived as you recalled the video that had been put on display for anyone and everyone to see. Not many people watched the news these days, but that still didn’t stop you from imagining the worst possible scenarios in which your identity gets out and safety is no longer a word you could properly understand.

Basking in the sun with your back propped against the window was the best option for you, and although it was unfortunate, you tried to think on the bright side. Later, when the sun went down, you could enjoy the presence of another being, and that thought alone was enough to spur you on in your silent endeavor of watching the world pass by.

With all the looming hours ahead of you, it was hard to concentrate on just one thing. You found yourself addressing the most prominent issue within your mind: Loki.

According to all the evidence you could recall, he should not have been able to walk leisurely along the path of the living for more than a few days; yet, he did just that. It was as if he had laughed in the face of fate itself and continued his trek through life. You wondered what was different - what could have changed that allowed him to live freely. However, the more you dwelled on it, the harder it was to come up with an answer that you couldn’t find a million reasons why that was not it.

What was the reason behind his immunity? Nothing made sense. Well, nothing that you could wrap your mind around so easily at least.

The possibilities were endless, and you found yourself having to forcefully pull yourself from all the ideas running through your mind as the sound of faint knocking bounced off your walls. You blinked away the haze that had overtaken your senses before standing up to open the door. The sky was already dark, more dark than usual for when the God of Mischief decided to come stalking into your home. For a moment, you allowed a bit of déjà vu to settle in as you recalled the last time you had opened the door with the complete intention of coming face to face with Loki. The memory was enough to make you hesitate when you grasped the knob, peering out the peephole in hopes that the same detective was not standing on the other side. In fact, the memory was enough to make you anxious, sending your heart on a race with your mind, speeding up with every thought.

When you caught sight of who you expected, a breath of relief escaped your lips, but your heart was still racing as you stepped back. You turned the knob, ridding yourself of the barrier between you and the god on the other side. His presence was immediately soothing to you. Not because he made you feel safe, but because you felt as though he would not disappear if you could keep a watchful eye on him. Any amount of time spent with him out of your sight was a reason to set panic into your being.

Loki’s eyes scanned your features as he stepped into the apartment. The door fell shut behind him, and you took the briefest of moments to fight the urge to give him a hug. Despite what had happened the night before, you still could not fully convince yourself that you were in the clear, that you didn’t have to worry for Loki’s life.

You offered a smile in hopes of distracting his impervious gaze, but the action seemed to do the opposite. His eyebrows knitted together in concentration as he took a step closer to you. Loki’s hands lifted and rested on the curve of your shoulders, gently rubbing against the fabric of your shirt as if to soothe the tension you weren’t aware you were showing.

Maybe he could see the conflict in your face because, within a couple seconds, he was pulling you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist. You couldn’t find a reason to protest; you basically had told yourself not to initiate contact, but you had never said that you would say no if he were to be the one to make the move. Reaching up to grip the fabric of his shirt, you let yourself melt into the embrace.

“Are you alright?” Loki mumbled into your hair as he seemed to pull you as close as possible. You nodded, feeling your heartbeat pick up again from the mere sound of his voice. “Don’t lie. You seem upset.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, shutting your eyes. “I was just thinking of some stuff before you showed up.”

His arms tightened around you, and you let it happen. He didn’t speak for a moment, and you felt yourself growing drowsy from the lack of sleep you had been living off of. Just sitting around all day only seemed to make you feel more tired.

“Thinking about?” Loki’s voice vibrated in his chest as your head rested against his chest. You didn’t speak; instead, you clutched even more tightly at his shirt. “Darling?” He asked and the word made your heart flutter. You knew that there probably wasn’t much meaning behind it, but even so, it made you feel warmth that you had only dreamt of.

“Just stuff,” you mumbled, eyes still shut as you allowed Loki’s embrace to hold you in your spot. The answer didn’t seem to suffice as the god leaned back, tilting your chin with his finger to get you to look at him. When you opened your eyes, his own were trained on you, filled with concern. He sighed as your eyes darted to the left to avoid his stare, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before resting his against your own.

Honestly, how could you ever say no to someone when all they ever did was make you feel unbelievably safe? Even if there was no special meaning behind his actions, you couldn’t help but think that it was special. Besides, such a comforting hug was something you could never turn down.

“If something bothers you, I’d much rather you tell me,” Loki said, his voice low. “But if you do not want to, I will not press you further.”

He pulled away from the embrace, but grazed the skin of your cheek with his fingertips before fully turning to walk into the apartment. You stood there silently, watching him retreat into the living room. Without responding, you followed in the god’s footsteps. He stood leaning against the counter, motioning you towards him. Another moment of déjà vu seemed to rush through you as you recalled the moment when you had first spoken to Loki and how regal he looked when motioning you forward. Now that you knew that he was a god, it only made him seem all the more dignified.

Although it was only weeks ago, there were many things that had changed. You couldn’t say that you regretted any of the events, but you also couldn’t decide if you would go through it again - if you would put Loki through it again. Would he even want to risk himself if he was aware of the circumstances back then?

“I’m pleased to inform you that I spent the night reading recipes, and I believe I would be more successful in cooking if I were to try again,” he said as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Shall I show you?”

“Will I die from spice overload?” You attempted to tease, but your voice was still slightly strained as the words left your mouth. Loki did not seem to notice your unsuccessful attempt as he scoffed with a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“I will be sure not to overdo it this time, darling. Do not underestimate how quickly I learn,” he retorted. Your eyes were trained on him; you’re heart beating frantically as every worry began to crash down on you again and again and again. Loki’s smirk faded as he watched your demeanor change once again. “Come here,” he murmured, uncrossing his arms.

You walked towards him slowly, arms wrapped tightly around your body as if you were trying to keep the demons in your mind from running loose within your apartment. There were enough ghosts in your life, you didn’t need any more of them in the one place you felt relatively safe. Loki held his hands out slightly, apparently wanting you to walk near him. You did as he wanted, allowing his hands to slip around your waist as you stood between his legs.

“Would you like to watch me prepare a meal for you?” Loki asked, his voice muffled once again by your hair. You wrapped your arms around his waist, enjoying the feeling while it lasted and hummed against his clothed chest.

“In a minute,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

When the two of you had finished eating dinner a couple hours later, Loki had gone into the living room while you cleaned up. Throughout dinner, a very needy part of you wanted nothing more than for him to pull you close again, but there was also a part of you that still said to run as far away as possible. No matter what your instincts said, the invisible barrier that forced you and Loki apart seemed to be breaking. You were still guarded, of course, but it wasn’t hard to admit that Loki was very skilled at tearing the heavily fortified walls around your heart down. Or maybe you just had a serious weak spot for the god. Either way, if things were to go terribly downhill, you could not afford to let yourself fall apart again.

You approached Loki slowly after finishing the dishes, standing before him. He still held a look of concern as he looked up at you from his spot on the sofa. A few moments of silence passed between you two before you decided that you might as well find something to do while he relaxed. As you turned to walk away, Loki’s long fingers wrapped delicately around your wrist, holding you in your spot.

“Sit with me,” he spoke. It sounded more like an order than a command, so you listened and moved to sit beside him, but his grip was firm. It was at that moment that you realized that he only allowed you to have the illusion of even a shred of control. He was still very much in control of this situation. His grip tightened as he pulled you down onto his lap.

Opening your mouth to protest, you turned your head to see him smirking. The smirk was one of absolute, breathtaking arrogance, and suddenly, you didn’t want to argue or resist anything he had to do or say anymore.

Loki’s eyes were dark as his hands rested on your hips, lightly pulling at them to urge you to straddle him. You bit your lip, eyeing him as you did what was silently requested of you. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you stared at him not knowing what to say or do.

Too fast, your mind seemed to scream. This is moving too fast. Wasn’t I just worrying about killing him less than a day ago?

Loki leaned forward, placing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth, letting his lips trail along your jaw to your ear, and it took everything in you not to melt into his touch. “I will not pressure you to go further than this,” he whispered as if he had read your mind. A shiver ran down your spine as his lips pressed against your neck, nipping lightly at the skin.

Your eyes fell shut at the sweet sensation of his lips against your skin. His fingertips skimmed over the skin above your waistband as he reached beneath the fabric of your shirt. Then, much like the night before, Loki’s lips pressed against yours, devouring your worries with a single kiss. The cool skin of his fingers spread against your back, pulling your body ever so closer, and it took all the effort within you to attempt to push away from the embrace.

Despite the silenced worries, and the overwhelming amount of sexual appeal Loki seemed to carry with him at all times, there would always be a small, nagging part of you telling you to leave him be, to not allow him to get more involved. He sighed in disappointment as you successfully pushed him just far enough to allow for a sliver of space to come between your lips and his. Loki’s hands withdrew from their spot on your back, trailing up your sides to cradle your face to pull you forward again.

“Loki,” You started to say. “It’s just that-”

“Must I tell you to stop thinking again?” He mumbled, leaning his head down in defeat, his forehead falling onto your chest. You reached up, running your fingers through his hair. Loki hummed in appreciation as you felt the soft locks slip through your fingers and fall back against the nape of his neck.

“Can I finish what I was going to say?”

“I suppose,” he replied, placing a delicate kiss to the base of your throat before leaning back and placing his hands back on your hips.

“Aren’t you worried?” You pried, eyes dancing with uncertainty as he furrowed his brows.

“About what?”

“Dying? You’d think that you would be more worried for your health. Don’t you think that you should be a little more worried about dying from the hands of a near stranger?” You kept speaking as Loki opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off before he could emit any words. “It just doesn’t seem right that you’re risking your life just for the sake of a few stray kisses.”

Loki’s fingers tightened on your hip, but loosened almost immediately afterward. “I don’t follow, my dear.”

“Well, don’t you think you should be more concerned about your health. It’s not like I’m particularly worth losing your life over,” you spoke.

This time, Loki looked downright confused, which made you confused as well. He opened his mouth and shut it a few times. It was a silly sight; he looked like a fish trying to breathe out of water for a moment. You wanted to laugh, but the lack of response was more overwhelming than your desire to giggle.

“Darling-” he began to speak, but the sound of aggressive knocking cut him off.

Both of your heads turned to face the door as it opened forcefully within seconds. You yelped at the sight, and Loki’s fingers dug into your hip as he stilled. Standing quickly, Loki followed in your stride, shielding you with his body as he pulled you behind his taller frame.

“I was curious as to where you seem to think you can sneak off to, brother. You should know by now that your illusions do not work on me like they once did.” A voice spoke. You craned your neck to peak from behind the God of Mischief’s shoulder.

Loki’s body was tense, and every bit of you kind of wished you had helped him unwind when you had the chance. He never seemed this tense around you, but was that only with you? Was there no other person who treated him decently enough for him to sit back and feel safe?

After a quick glance at the man standing near the entrance, you noticed that it was none other than Thor, the God of Thunder. He was a burly, intimidating looking god, and just the sight of him standing at the threshold of your abode made you feel frightened. You looked up to see Loki roll his eyes, his grip on your forearm never faltering as he took a small glance at your hidden silhouette. Hopefully, your fear was not evident on your face.

When he looked back up, his eyes met with Thor’s, and Loki’s knowing, arrogant smile appeared once again. You watched as he squared his shoulders from where he stood in front of the sofa - it was a clear, dominant motion that spoke into the silence between the brothers.

“Come now, brother, my illusions have always worked quite thoroughly on you last I checked.” Loki boasted. “If they did not work on you, you would have followed me here months ago.”

Thor glared at Loki, and then his eyes landed on you as you peered at him from your place behind the God of Mischief. His eyes seemed to narrow as they dragged themselves from your face to Loki’s hand on your arm. “I see,” he spoke, arms crossing in front of his chest as a smirk appeared on his face. “So it is a secret rendezvous. Tell me,” he took a few steps forward, eyes trained on you. “Are you a lady of the night?”

You felt the grip around your arm tighten and watched as Loki’s jaw clenched in irritation. At the same time, you felt your chest tighten. Did he just call me a prostitute? Your thoughts were practically audible as Loki looked down to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing your face and the apparent offense you had taken from the question, he let out a deep sigh.

“She’s no such thing,” his tone held a bite to it. Loki’s thumb began brushing gently against the skin of your arm while still holding you in your spot. It was quite contradicting compared to the obvious annoyance dripping from his voice, but then you thought about how tense he seemed around his brother versus how he seemed around you. The Loki standing in front of you was a mixture of the two; he was tense, but he was also still attempting to comfort you in whatever way he found possible.

“A lover, then?” Thor questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” you scrambled to say, pulling your arm from Loki’s touch. “Not lovers.”

Thor’s gaze rested on you once again, his eyes narrowing in scrutinization. A moment of silent regret washed over you as you began to think that he didn’t want you to speak to begin with. You looked up at Loki as you stepped out from behind his shadow. His face showed no visible emotion, but his eyes were still fixated on his brother standing across the room. Thor, however, was still staring at you with squinted eyes.

Yeah, gods are definitely blind or something, you thought.

“Actually,” Thor spoke, calmly walking towards you and Loki. “You look quite familiar, have we met?”

“No,” you choke out, wondering if he was aware of the news broadcast from the night before. If he was one of the individuals who was meant to find you, then could this be him retrieving the wanted woman the police and media raved about? “We haven’t met.”

“I’m certain I’ve seen you.”

“She has a familiar face,” Loki cut in, his features stoic as he intercepted Thor’s path to you.

The two of them seemed to exchange unspoken words while glaring at one another. Perhaps that was normal for them to be able to communicate without speaking. Is that what happens when you’ve been siblings for a millennium? Thor seemed to be in deep thought for a moment before he took one long look in your direction.

“Perhaps you’re right.” He said, his voice still booming but holding more merriment than before. It was such a quick change to his mood that you couldn’t help but feel as though you were being deceived. “I apologize for your door, Miss…” You promptly informed him of your name and if your eyes had seen correctly, you could have sworn that his eyes had widened before returning back to their normal, seemingly unfazed size. Loki’s impenetrable gaze was harsh upon your skin, setting fire to your cheeks as you blushed in embarrassment. Maybe telling the god your name wasn’t smart; after all, weren’t you considered a suspect to a case that the Avengers had been called in to help with?

“Yes, well, I will fix it and be on my way.”

“No need, I will do it,” Loki spoke up, his impatience showing. Thor glanced at Loki, a smirk on his lips before he raised his arms in mock surrender.

“Of course, brother.” The God of Thunder boomed, a hearty laugh escaping his lips. “There is no need to be so serious, I simply offered to fix what I broke.” A more serious look washed over his features as he straightened his back. “Stark will not be happy to hear that you are roaming about the city unsupervised.”

Unsupervised? You thought, a questioning glance being cast at Loki. He ignored your look and remained staring at Thor. You wanted to ask what that meant, but you were not too keen on the idea of interrupting the lovely interaction between brothers happening before you.

“What Stark does not know cannot hurt him,” Loki retorted as he glowered at the other god.

“You want me to lie for the sake of an innocent meeting between not-lovers?”

“Yes,” Loki responded. “If you must say it like that.”

“I will do no such thing.”

“And why not?”

“If it were anyone else, perhaps I would lie for you.” Thor’s gaze fell on you once more, and this time, a very strange smile adorned his lips. “I do not believe that any of the others will be too fond of you making friends with a wanted criminal.”

Your heart dropped, and Loki made quick steps to attempt to guard you once again. However, Thor was faster, surging forward to grip your forearm. His immense amount of strength was frightening as his touch pressed tightly into your skin, and you realized that Loki could have very well done the same to your skin, but he never did. He was always gentle with you.

“You will not touch her, brother,” Loki seethed, his face ignited with a venomous fury as he approached you and the other god.

“Loki, this woman is wanted, she must be held accountable for her actions. You cannot protect her here,” Thor reasoned, his grip tightening even more. The pain pulsed through your arm and you let out a small whimper that seemed to go unnoticed by the God of Thunder. Loki, however, seemed to notice before you had even acknowledged the pain. His glare was set on the contact between you and Thor, his fists clenching by his sides as he took another stride in your direction.

“I’m not wanted,” you attempted to say.

“You are,” Thor spoke. “I suspect that it will not be long until you are sought out by the local authorities or our team. We have been searching for you, and now I know why we were not able to find you.”

“What-” You began to question him while you followed his gaze to Loki. Had Loki done something?

“Why did you hide her?” Thor asked, his grip finally loosening slightly.

“Lock me up with her,” Loki spoke, ignoring the question.

“What nonsense are you speaking?”

“If you insist on giving this woman to Midgard’s authorities, they will lock her away for the rest of her mortal life, or they will test her. You know this to be true.”

“If that is the punishment they see fit, then so be it.” Thor growled in response.

“She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing,” Loki’s voice rose as he spoke, and he was now standing face to face with his brother. His hand reached out to grip Thor’s wrist, pulling harshly at it in order to free your forearm from the bruising grip. When you were finally freed, Loki reached for your other arm, pulling gently to get you to stand behind him once again. “I will not allow you to take her. I have taken more lives than she has; lock me up with her if you insist. I must warn you, though, I will not go down without a fight.”

“We have already been through this. Do not act foolishly, you once told me I was foolish for loving a mortal; yet here you are, risking your freedom for the sake of a criminal. This is no time for your mischief.”

“I am not here to cause issues,” Loki spoke, his eyes no longer trained on Thor. Instead, he had turned to face you, his long, nimble fingers, tugging at the sleeve of your long-sleeve top to reveal a reddening mark that would surely become a prominent bruise. “I am telling you that the people of this planet will take her life without explanation.” He exhaled deeply, fingers tracing the bruising skin like a feather. “There is no explanation that her people will accept. They will act out of the emotions they harbor against her, nothing more.”

“And if that is the case, then let them do so,” Thor argued, his voice just as firm and assertive as Loki’s. It truly felt like you were standing between two princes that were well aware of their prestige. “She has killed people. She must accept punishment.”

“Can you honestly stand there and say you have not taken lives as well?”

“That was war, Loki. I was protecting and restoring peace to the realms.”

“And perhaps there is a battle within her,” his voice was lower now, but it was not due to a sudden meekness, it was the way his voice became when he cared. You had noticed that after a few too many deep conversations. His eyes captured your own as his fingertips continued to caress the irritated skin. “A peace that needs to be restored before you decide to make such hasty, life-changing decisions.”

When you looked back at Thor, he was already looking at you. Loki did not allow his eyes to wander in the slightest as he stood before you. Thor’s stare was harsh, glaring with a hatred you couldn’t quite understand. He swallowed before looking away, eyes still narrowed.

“Fine.”

[parachutingkitten]

Good Morning, Mr. Borg: Ch 1

Look at that. I said I’d update, and I did... Not much today, but I really like the version of Cryptor I’m introducing this chapter. Hope you do too!

Happy Reading!

He looked... different than I thought he would.

When the elevator doors opened, and I saw his face, it didn’t quite register. He looked… broken. His figure was tall but scrawny, and his head hung on top of his shoulders as if it didn’t belong there. His hair was a little bit messy, and oily, and even sort of fluffy if you looked at it right.  One of his eyes was red, and the other was a sad, hollow gray- as if the color had been sucked out of it long ago. He wore no mask. His complexion was a mix of black and silver metal panels that seemed to split his skin with no regard for where the seams lay. Most notably though, his right forearm was completely missing, leaving a boney stub that suck out under his T-shirt. He boarded the elevator next to me, glanced over at the buttons, and the doors closed.

“...Are you-”

“I’m who you think I am,” he nodded.

I glanced at him again, before returning my gaze to the doors in front of us.

“How was your travel here?”

He thought for a moment. “Not too long. Traffic is pretty good this early, so it was only 2 hours or so.”

The conversation died as my mind scrambled to find something to fill the silence.

“It’s getting pretty windy.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t exactly look like it’ll be a pleasant week."

“We’re supposed to get snow this weekend.”

“...Huh.” 

The elevator beeps rung in our ears. As fast as they were, they only seemed to continue on endlessly.

“Are you the one who replaced Pixal?”

“Well, I take the calls and get the coffee.” I smiled, and he sent a mildly amused grin back.

“How is it working here?” 

I thought for a moment. “I like it. Keeps me busy, but it’s not too crazy.”

“I would stay on your toes though,” He smirked. “This place has a bit of a history for being a dangerous work environment.” 

“Yeah,” I smiled. “I guess you never know when everything will just randomly turn evil around here.”

“Wouldn’t that be a pain in the ass?” he rolled his eyes before we both burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry, that was over the line,” I shook my head.

“I don’t have any lines anymore,” he waved it off. “What was your name?”

“Drew Peterson.” I extended a hand.

“Cryptor.” He shook it as the doors opened.

I was surprised how much of a pleasant person he was considering who he used to be. He seemed like something of a walking contradiction. As he stepped out of the elevator, I was stuck just staring at him for a moment before bringing myself to follow him. The war general built by darkness who almost conquered all of Ninjago was now cracking jokes at his own expense, clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans going to visit his father. What happened?

“Good morning, Mr. Borg.”

“Good morning, Drew.” He glanced up from his work as a smile grew on his face. “Cryptor! I didn’t know you’d be here this early!” He wheeled himself out from his desk to get closer. 

“Good to see you again, Mr. Borg.” 

“How are you?! Have they treated you well? What happened to your arm?”

Cryptor glanced down at it. “Well… it had a gun built into it.”

“Oh, that’s right. I suppose they don’t let you have those in prison, now do they?” Borg gently held what was left of his arm, examining it carefully.

“Not exactly.”

“I might be able to make you a new one, but I have to admit, I got rid of your blueprints years ago. Burned them, actually. Mainly because they were designed by the literal forces of darkness, but also because they were surprisingly pretty sloppy.” 

"Okay," Cryptor rolled his eyes.

“It’s nothing personal, it just didn’t exactly stand up to brand integrity.” 

"You could use Zane's blueprints for the new arm," I suggested. "His were the basis for Cryptor’s designs, so the attachment mechanism would probably be the same. Plus… it wouldn't have a gun."

"Good idea! I'll get started right away!" Mr. Borg's face lit up like it only does every once in a while.

“After the whole evil clone army thing, Borg is the only one who can access Zane’s Blueprints in the building,” I explained to Cryptor.

“Makes sense,” He shrugged. 

“No offense, but I’m kind of surprised to actually see you… out.”

He sighed, wandering towards the seating area. “Well, I’m out on temporary parole on Mr. Borg’s request. He wants to try and get me out on a sort of permanent monitoring program.” He plopped down on the couch as I followed him, leaning on the back of the chair opposite him. “Basically, I would meet with officers once a week, agree to stay in certain areas, and they’d keep this thing on me.”

He pulled up his pant leg to reveal a rather sophisticated ankle monitor sitting underneath.  

“Sounds an awful lot like Borg is the one who wants you out and not… you.”

A broken smile crept onto his face as he stared down at the floor. “Yeah… it kinda is.”

“...any particular reason?” I pried. 

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I was only built a few weeks before I was arrested, and during that time I wasn’t even really in control of myself. I’ve never really experienced… freedom before. Don’t know that I’d ever really get used to it. I’m not exactly... built for it.”

I moved to sit in the chair, now directly across from him. “Well, how is it so far?”

“What?” he looked up.

I smiled, finally catching his line of sight. “Freedom?”

He glanced over at Borg, watching him shuffle some papers around on his desk for a moment. “It’s… different.” His eyes lingered for a moment more, before switching over to me. “What about you? How do you like it?”

“Um…” I chuckled a bit. “How do I like freedom? Well, it’s pretty nice. You’ve just got to find the right people to hang around.”

“Note taken,” he smiled. 

The conversation hit a lull as our eyes began to wander again. 

“Didn’t you say it wasn’t supposed to snow until this weekend?”

I followed Cryptor’s glance to the window where very visible and heavy snow was passing by on its way to the ground. “Yeah…” I stood up to get a better look. As I approached the wall of glass it was easy to see the snow that had accumulated on the ground just since we had entered. It looked like we were in the middle of some freak snowstorm. 

“Mr. Borg?!” I called across the room. “What time was the renovation crew supposed to come in?”

“About noon,” He answered. “Why?” He looked up from his computer to see the wall of snow falling outside as he quickly wheeled over to join me, and now Cryptor at the glass. “This looks bad.”

“You might want to postpone,” I advised. 

“I don’t think anyone is going anywhere in this storm,” Cryptor commented, his eyes locked on the glass. 

“It looks like it’s only going to get worse.” Borg commented scrolling through the weather forecast on his watch. “Drew, could you activate building shelter protocols? I don’t want snow causing any damage.”

“Right away Mr. Borg.” I started walking towards the control closet as Cryptor followed me. 

“Building shelter… protocols? What’s that?” 

“It’s a barrier that covers all entrances and exits and the building up through about the seventh floor.” I opened the closet, searching for right switch panel. “Used for protection against storms, or on occasion, the forces of evil.” I sent him a quick smile before opening the panel and reaching for my keys. 

“But, it’ll pretty much trap us in though… right?”

I slid my keys in pausing for a moment at his remarks. “Yeah, I guess so. Just until it’s safe to put them down though. We have total control over it.” I turned the key as a mechanical rumbling started outside the building but was felt everywhere within it. 

“Right…”

“Don’t freak out,” I smiled, closing the panel. “It’s just some bad weather. Nothing to worry about.”

[s-n-arly]

Something Familiar - Teaser 3

Also available on Curious Fictions.

<< Chapter Two

Chapter Three

He couldn't get the witch girl out of his head. He'd seen her the last three days, and each time it was the same. She wandered the alleys until she found a cat or two to… well... visit. There was no catnip to lure them, something he'd seen with other witch-born. The milk and morsels weren't tainted, so she wasn't killing off strays or binding them into some sort of army. It was all quite cordial. She never chased anyone, choosing to let them come to her. He'd seen a particularly skittish kitten lurk three meters away while her litter-mates scarfed rewards, and instead of compelling the stray, the girl used her magic to deliver a few pieces of meat so the little one wouldn't miss out on a free meal.

He didn't question why he was able to find her again. He was a black cat, for the moment at least, and he was more than a little sensitive to magic, which had actually made living with his father all the more painful. He did wonder why he was bothering to stalk her. She was looking for a familiar, and she'd made that clear, but he couldn't begin to guess what would make a cat or kitten the right one. So far, none of the strays had met her requirements, and with his brand of magic he didn't stand a chance.

He shook his head, hesitating before continuing on his path in search of the sweet witch. He didn't want to be a familiar. He'd run away from home to escape the bindings his father imposed on him. Why on Gaia, would he seek out permanent magical entanglements? Of course he didn't want to be a familiar. He was a stray, and that's how he'd live until he turned eighteen, or maybe the rest of his life. It was better this way.

He'd dreamed of her, though. Every night since he first saw her, he'd woken to an almost painful absence of safety and warmth. It didn't make sense. He didn't know her, and while she seemed so kind, it could still all be a ruse. He needed to monitor her. That would keep his worries over the insidious creeping thoughts and cozy dreams at bay.

He continued on his way, again hiding himself in the shadows and leaves to watch her. Her clothes were bright and fun, reflecting a spirited personality. Other than her jacket, she'd had a different outfit each time, and they were all equally fabulous. For all his years modeling clothes by countless designers, he'd never been permitted to express himself like that. He doubted even his father could object to her impeccable styling. Today she wore a white swing tunic top with cherry blossom embroidery peeking out of her open coat. He suspected her pink pants were denim, but couldn't tell from here. His cat eyes saw color better than regular cats, but not as well as his human eyes did. He hadn't seen pastel denim since the Italian women's fashion week three years ago.

Miss Gigi proudly strolled into the alley, a short line of strays following behind her. When the girl bent down with her cup of milk, Miss Gigi nudged the free cats to approach. Jacque grinned, flicking his tongue against his delightfully sharp teeth. She was trying to help the girl, like some sort of familiar matchmaker. It was adorable.

This time things went a little differently, and he held his breath as the girl scooped up a gray tabby from the little clowder. Had she found her familiar? Why did that make his chest hurt?

"Oh dear," she said softly. "You have ear mites." She fondled the cat's ears, and looked up to meet Miss Gigi's eyes. "I'd like to treat his ears. Can you let him know I'm not going to harm him?"

Miss Gigi bobbed her head and let out a series of meows and mrrows. "Sit still and let the witchling cure your ears. You'll be grateful for it later."

The cat sat docile while the girl dripped a minty smelling potion on his ears and waved a hand over his head. Jacque felt the magic, even from his hiding place. Again, it was nothing like his father's, leaving him soothed, instead of anxious.

"There you go," the girl said. "Good as new." She gently set the cat back down and finished doling out treats. "Thank you for coming to see me," she told the cats. "And I do appreciate your help, madame." She bowed to Miss Gigi. "I'm afraid I've got to go." She cleaned up her things, reaching to give Miss Gigi a bit of meat before heading out.

Miss Gigi sat where she was, long after the girl had left. She looked up to the shadows. "Did you think she was going to pick that little tom?" she meowed. "How did that feel?"

He took a three-hop route down to the alley beside her. "She wouldn't want me," he insisted, choosing not to answer her questions. He still wasn't sure how he felt about the inexplicable moment of fear and sorrow.

"She's powerful, and you're sensitive," Miss Gigi continued. "You're exactly what she wants."

"Not... exactly," he replied. He wasn't fully cat, and he was pretty sure Miss Gigi knew that.

"You aren't meant to be a stray," she hissed. "You're clever and resourceful, I've no doubt you'll handle the winter fine, but this is the wrong life for you." She stared into his eyes for a moment before turning away. "There is an opportunity before you."

"An opportunity to be enslaved?" he asked.

Miss Gigi laughed. "That girl will not be enslaving her familiar. She's looking for a partner, a companion. Why do you think it's taking so long?"

Jacque was quiet for a moment. Miss Gigi was contradicting everything his father claimed witches would do if they found him.

"Do you want respect and affection?" Miss Gigi asked. "For those will be your fate, should you go with that girl."

He stared at his paws a moment. "How can you be sure? People change." His father had never been exactly warm to him, but when his mother was still around, he'd seemed fond enough of Jacque. That all changed when she vanished.

"My witch is gifted in reading the currents of time and chance," Miss Gigi said. "As her familiar, I'm a fair paw at seeing." She got to her feet. "Think hard on this, child, and don't let it pass by without making an actual decision on it." She turned and trotted away, her tail twisting behind her.

* * *

He led the witch on a quick and merry jaunt to this alley. It was quiet and empty, and had decent hiding places, allowing him to control their meeting. As he'd hoped, she started following him the moment she caught sight of him. He was careful to go slow and stop periodically so she could track him, without turning it into a chase, since she'd made it clear she wouldn't run at the cats she met.

"Here, kitty kitty," she called, her voice light and playful.

He liked her voice, even though it had haunted his dreams since the first time he heard it.

She closed her eyes, and he felt her magic lightly brush over him. Smiling happily, she crouched down and pulled out the thermos he'd seen so often. "Come on, kitty. I just want to meet you." There was no lie in her words, and she looked content to wait.

* * *

Brigitte relaxed, prepared to sit for some time if that would draw him out, but it wasn't necessary. He was hungry or curious, and brave enough to approach. She opened her eyes when she sensed him half a meter away. He was sleek and perfectly black, with hair somewhere between medium and long, and it lay smooth and clean over his whole body. His eyes, oh goodness, his eyes were such a beautiful green.

"Oh," she gasped. "You're gorgeous, aren't you?"

He paused and rolled his shoulder to gaze at her over it, before slowly taking a few more steps.

Giggling at his posing, she pushed the thermos cap of milk toward him, then pulled her hands back, keen to get to know him without spooking him. "I suppose you know what a handsome lad you are, huh?" He was out of his kitten days, but he had the leggy build of an adolescent. "Do all the ladies admire you?"

* * *

"Mrrrrow," he agreed, pausing to smell the milk. Then he leaned forward just a bit to sniff at her. Her skin was warm against his nose, and he butted his forehead against her fingers. His magic sense kicked into overdrive at her touch. When she ran her hand over his head and back, he suddenly remembered the joy in being petted. His mother had given him all sorts of pats and cuddles no matter his form, and he wondered how he'd survived without it for so long.

"Oh, goodness, you're so soft." She scratched his neck, hitting all the best places, though she seemed to be verifying his lack of collar. "Don't you know how dangerous it is to prowl the streets with no tag or necklace, Hēi Māo?" she asked.

Had she just named him? And in Mandarin, one of the languages his father insisted he study? It may have been intended as a nickname or term of endearment, since it was literally a description of what he was, but he was suddenly determined get rid of his old name and use the one she'd given him instead. He rubbed his head against her forearm, lifting his front paws to her knee in an effort to raise his jaw enough to reach her face. If he became her familiar, he would never be alone again. He wouldn't have to worry about hiding from his father, or other witches for that matter, and he'd be guaranteed a place where he belonged. If he was safe, and she got the benefit of a familiar, it was a fair trade. It was like Miss Gigi had said, they were a good fit for each other; he felt that now, though he suspected that might bethe magic.

She ran a hand over his back and drew on her power as she looked him over. Again, he found himself relaxing under her touch.

"Huh." She put a second hand on him. "You have the strangest aura. It's almost as if you're not quite a cat, but at the same time, you really are."

She wasn't wrong, of course. His witch was so clever, and yes, she was his; he could feel it. His purr rumbled up in a way it hadn't in years.

"Are you Schrödinger's cat, then? Both cat yet not cat at the same time?" she asked, smiling brightly.

He purred, amused with her quantum physics joke.

She let out a sigh. "I don't think I can claim you, Hēi Māo, but I'd really like to."

His witch was silly. He'd already decided. He was hers. Her fingers moved under his chin, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.

* * *

Something Familiar is now available in the following formats: Lulu ePub and trade paperback iBookstore Nook Kindle Rakuten Kobo (ePub)

The trade paperback has been approved, it will be available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble in the next few weeks.

If you read it and enjoy it, I would love it if you could put up a review (at whatever site you prefer), as it will help me reach a wider audience.

[aspoonofsugar]

Nen and Characters: Palm Siberia

Would anyone say that this woman:

This woman:

This woman:

And this woman:

Are all the same character?

Palm Siberia is a character who has been given several designs and this may be something done willingly. This analysis will try to explore why and, starting from this point and using Palm’s nen powers as a mean to investigate her, will attempt to explain her character.

AN AMBIGUOUS MERMAID: PALM AND INCONSISTENCY

Palm’s first known power is Merman Clairvoyance:

This power lets Palm find who she wants in exchange of some of her blood and she is implied to have found Biscuit thanks to it:

However, later on we get some more clarifications on this ability:

According to this explanation, in order to see someone through her crystal Palm must first see them “with her own eyes”. This condition is coherent with her using it to find Killua, but not with her finding Biscuit since Palm herself admits that she had never met her before contacting her.

So what should we make out of it?

Did Togashi decide to change the conditions of Palm’s power after having introduced her? Did Palm use a different power to find Biscuit?

I think this minor inconsistency can be used to shed light on the fact that at first glance Palm’s character seems built on inconsistencies.

I mentioned the fact Togashi gave Palm multiple designs and this too can be considered a form of inconsistency. After all a character’s design is how the reader can recognize them at first glance after their introduction and is an important part of characterization. However, in Palm’s case another character or the narrator always calls her by name whenever she appears with a new design, so that the reader can understand who she is:

In short Palm’s design isn’t used to quickly and effectively let the readers recognize her in the narrative, but to show that she can change her appearance to the point of becoming unrecognizable and this leads the readers to wonder which kind of person Palm truly is.

This question presents itself not only because of the changes in her design, but also because of Palm’s personality.

Palm is introduced as Knov’s pupil and it becomes soon clear she has a crush on him. However, in a very short time she develops feelings for Gon. This makes so that she insists to go out with him and becomes fixated on him to the point that she wants to force him to stay with her. What’s more, since Killua gets in her way, she also becomes determined to kill him and when her rage reaches its climax and it seems nothing can stop her:

She suddenly changes her mind because of Knov appearing before her eyes. She also says in that occasion that she only cares about Knov, but again she contradicts herself later on:

As a matter of fact after her metamorphosis she asks Killua if Gon will find her attractive even in her new form and this hints at the fact that she hasn’t quite forgotten Gon despite what she said when she “dumped” him.

In short, it has been made clear that Palm is an extremely moody person and that she has mood swings which make her change from happy to angry in the blink of an eye.

So, is this what her character is all about? And what about the part of herself she showed toward the end of the palace invasion? Is that a personality she somehow developed after having been experimented on by Neferpitou and Shaiapouf?

I don’t think so:

When she infiltrated Bizeff’s “paradise” to enter the palace she showed she could be resourceful, brave and determined and these are all attributes which will appear more after her coming back as an ant, but which were there since the beginning, simply hidden behind an odd and scary behaviour.

Even the changes in her powers after her trasformation in a Chimera Ant may be less incisive than what one may think at first sight.

For example after becoming an Ant she has the restriction that she can only observe three people at the time with her crystal. Because of this if she wants to watch someone else she has to give up the oldest target (aka the one she has been observing the longest). However, it might be hinted that such a restriction may have been present even in the original version of her power:

When she infiltrated the palace Palm wore lenses. This could have simply been a part of her disguise, but maybe it is a hint that there was a number of people she could observe with her powers and that the way in which the targets changed followed a rule similar to the one of Wink Blue (so of the ability she will have as a Chimera Ant).

Moreover, Wink Blue doesn’t seem to ask Palm to give the crystal any blood like her first ability demanded. However, this may very well be because now the crystal is fused with Palm herself and so it is always sprayed by blood.

All in all solving the holes left by Togashi and rationalizing the evolution of Palm’s powers after her trasformation is not my objective. What I wanted to make clear is that since the beginning Palm has been a character presented to us fragmented. Every glimpse we got of her was nothing more than us seeing an extremely superficial part of her person and these parts we saw lead the readers to initially think of her as a bunch of female stereotypes put together in a strange way.

This reading has been encouraged through the eyes of other characters as well. As a matter of fact every male character has actually treated Palm as some kind of cliche.

1) Gon treats her as a love interest:

He prepares his date with her by using the tricks the female sailors taught him and so he treats Palm as a generic woman and not as a specific individual (obviously Gon is acting innocently and simply trying to make her happy and the whole situation is comical). He even attempts a “wait for me” kind of speech and the excuse he uses is a classical “I’ll be back after I save the world” one:

2) Knov’s relationship with her is presented as one with a specific power dynamic:

I mean, Palm is told in a straight way that she is supposed to use her powers only for Knov.

3) When she disappears before the invasion Morau and Knuckle indirectly suggest she may have become the King’s mate:

4) Ikalgo treats her as a damsel in distress:

5) Finally Killua identifies her as a yandere and a stalker:

Note that each one of these stereotypes is eventually subverted.

1) Palm is definately not the type to accept to be submissive and to let her man go around and do what he pleases while she waits for him at home:

Actually her whole dynamic with Knov (2) plays with this idea. She is introduced as his subordinate (so in a position of submission and dependence) and is left waiting for him for the first part of the arc. However, in the end Knov is the one who waits for her because he can’t continue the mission:

What’s more, he literally waits at home since his power is a house:

Palm on the other hand doesn’t give up her mission and is ultimately the one who carries it out since she is the one who confirms the King’s death.

3) Obviously she is not the King’s mate and actually Meruem’s bride turns out to be the opposite of Palm in terms of appearances:

At the same time Meruem and Komugi’s relationship is the opposite of the sexual one the hunters imagine for a moment that the King is having with Palm.

4) Palm ends up saving herself and when Ikalgo suggests that she should retire from the mission this is what Killua admits:

5) Despite her yandere-like traits when she discovers what Gon has been through Palm decides not to force her presence on him:

So Palm is her own person and has always been since the beginning, but the story leads the reader to think she isn’t. Moreover, what happens to her before the invasion of the palace seems to confirm the tendency of Palm being objectified.

Let’s consider these two places:

Meruem’s “Meat Orchard” and Bizeff’s “Eden” are both environments where human lifes are exploited. In the first case the exploitation is a generalized one and it involves all humans who are transformed in ant soldiers, while in the second case it is an exploitation of women who are used by Bizeff for sex.

Let’s consider that in the chapters called The Republic of East Gorteau and Meat Orchard there are these scenes:

Basically Meruem is clearly associated to (the false) Ming Jol-ik who calls himself the King of Kings and brags about his divine powers. The only scene we get of this character is one of him enjoying a performance given by some female dancers. A second later Meruem calls these dancers cows and starts talking about his future plans of a meat orchard. Basically the concept of the human exploitation of the Ants and the exploitation of women in the Republic of East Gorteau are two ideas which are associated since the beginning of the arc and this association continues with the appearance of the two “gardens” I mentioned above.

Given what has been established about Palm, it’s not a surprise that she ends up becoming a “fruit” in both gardens:

In short the plot keeps putting her in situations which dehumanize her until she is literally changed into both a “monster” and a soldier with a number instead of a name:

When Palm becomes an ant she is said to have a barrier which separates her feelings from her body, but at the same time she shows extremely emotional responses to Killua’s actions. A possible explanation may be that Palm’s responses are mechanical ones she gives by taking them from her own memories. In short, thematically Palm has been transformed in her own caricature.

She asks Killua where Gon is. She uses a power called Black Widow which fits perfectly with the idea of her being a yandere since black widows kill their mate. She tries to kill Killua and repeats the insults she had already directed at him in the past. In short she is acting as the stereotype she is meant to subvert and she acts this way because she has been manipulated to the point that she has stopped being her own person.

This is why Palm freeing herself from Shaiapouf and Neferpitou’s manipulation is such an important moment for both her arc and the themes she embodies. In that moment Palm is telling the readers that no matter how much a person is objectified by others, they always remain an individual and can affirm their will. Moreover Palm’s rebellion and freedom are tied narratively to those of the whole human race:

If the experiment had worked the whole human race would have been destroyed, but thanks to Palm the experiment failed and so the human race showed the Ants that individualism is not such an easy thing to eliminate.

AN ANGRY SPIDER: PALM AND KILLUA

Black Widow is Palm’s second power and it is said to be connected to her emotions to the point that it changes according to them. When she uses it Palm talks about how angry she is suggesting that the form we see is one representative of Palm’s rage:

Black Widow is not the only power which can be seen as a metaphor for the anger a character feels. As a matter of fact Youpi’s powers are a representation of his fury and their evolution actually symbolizes Youpi becoming able to better handle his rage:

So it seems interesting to compare these two abilities and the fact that, while Youpi’s techniques are offensive, Palm’s is defensive:

On one hand Youpi’s problem is that his rage emerges in violent blasts which destroy everything around him and his growth consists in him learning to control them and to channel his resentment against a specific target, so that its destructiveness won’t be indiscriminate. On the other hand Palm uses the anger she feels as a defensive mechanism to keep others away from her, so that she can protect herself. This leads her to be unapproachable and difficult to understand and makes so that for her it is complicated to forge relationships. All these tendencies can be found in her early characterization and Black Widow offers us a clue to understand why Palm acts the way she does in the beginning: she feels the necessity to protect herself and at the same time is unable to handle her anger in a productive way.

This is why her interaction with Killua during their battle is important.

First of all let’s consider that Palm and Killua are very similar. Actually the tendencies Killua criticizes Palm for are present in him as well:

This scene is played for laughs, but it’s not by chance that Killua who considers Palm a crazy stalker ends up stalkering her and Gon during their date. The truth is that Killua tends to be possessive just like Palm is and, just like her, he is both a person who has been objectified for all his life and a person who has the tendency to objectify others to an extent. As a matter of fact he has been objectified by his family to the point that his brother planted a needle in him to try and make Killua become what the family wants. However, he also comments this when he reveals that he called the being in his sister Nanika aka “something”:

Killua is Silva’s son because Silva’s education taught him to objectify others despite the fact this is probably one of the things Killua hates the most in the world.

Palm, as the section above explains, is a person others tend to objectify, but she too has the tendency to treat males figures who come into her life as romantic partners ignoring their circumstances and the kind of people they are (for example she doesn’t care that Gon is a child). In short others treat her superficially, but she does the same as well.

Even Palm’s other flaw i.e. the fact that she has mood swings is a flaw Killua has as well. He has shown several times througout the series that he can go in killer mode very quickly and especially in the beginning he has trouble controlling himself:

This is very similar to Palm being scared she might hurt Biscuit and the boys:

And Killua changing his mind often and being whimsical is something his family has called him out for several times and is at the root of Killua’s major flaw i.e. the fact that he tends to run away and to back down from things he has decided to do.

So you can see how Palm and Killua are two people with similar flaws and this is probably why in the beginning they strongly disliked each other. This is also why them connecting is important for the both of them.

Let’s consider Killua’s development in the CA arc for a moment. During this arc Killua makes two important meetings: Ikalgo and Palm.

He connects with Ikalgo because he is who he wants to be:

Ikalgo is a person who doesn’t betray his friends and Killua wants to become like that too. After all this is the promise he made to his father before leaving home.

On the other hand Palm is who Killua doesn’t really wanna to accept that he is. This is why when he faces her the truth he has been repressing for the whole time comes out unstoppable:

Meeting Ikalgo inspired him to broaden his vision, while meeting Palm made him admit his limits.

At the same time, these meetings aren’t only about Killua, but about Palm and Ikalgo too.

For Palm especially seeing Killua being vulnerable about something which resonates strongly with her such as feeling powerless to help a friend (this is how Palm felt in the beginning when she couldn’t do anything to help Knov or Gon and Killua in their challenge against Knuckle and Shoot) is what made so that she could connect with Killua and free herself:

Here the narration is talking about how Pitou’s manipulation damaged Palm’s brain, but these words might have a broader meaning. Understanding Killua’s feelings, thus, didn’t simply let Palm go back to her true self, but made her grow and forge a genuine connection. She realized her feelings of powerlessness and her yearning to be important for someone weren’t things felt only by her and so she could answer Killua’s plead with honesty and could say what he needed to be told the most:

Palm knows what to say because these are the words she wanted to hear herself and are the ones Killua indirectly gave her when he asked for her help and in this way recognized Palm’s value as a person. It’s because Killua aknowledges her, that she can do the same with him. And after this exchange they become friends:

This friendship is important for Palm specifically because Killua isn’t a love interest. She is finally able to create a relationship with a male figure which doesn’t follow pre-established rules and conventions.

At this point we can underline how Killua and Palm’s arcs parallel each other in at least three key moments:

1) They both free themselves from a manipulation technique which is limiting them and they do so thanks to their strong feelings and will:

2) They forge important relationships with people they considered enemies or at least saw in an antagonistic light in the beginning. I am talking of Palm and Ikalgo for Killua and of Killua for Palm as explained above.

3) They are asked by the narrative to face an enemy who hurt them in the past, but who meanwhile has changed and developed and they are both able to aknowledge this change:

This analysis has already addressed the first two moments and in its last part point 3 will be explored. As a matter of fact if Palm confronting Killua is the turning point of her arc, then her meeting with Meruem is its pinnacle and we’ll see why in the following section.

UNDERSTANDING OTHERNESS: PALM AND MERUEM

Up until now it has been underlined how Palm’s arc can be read in at least two different ways:

a) She is a girl who is strongly objectified and whose development consists in her affirming her own identity and freeing herself.

b) She is a person who has trouble connecting with others and who is self-centred and her development consists in her being able to actually create new bonds and to empathize with others.

Her fight with Killua is when these two readings converge. After all in that fight she frees herself (a) because she is able to empathize with Killua (b).

On the other hand her final interaction with Meruem is where the theme of empathizing with others reaches its climax as far as Palm is concerned. When it comes to this theme Palm’s most important power comes into play and can help us to better analyze it.

Wink Blue is an ability which lets Palm see the last three people her right eye alone saw. To see them she has to cover this eye. If she does so these people will appear in her mind together with their surroundings and she will watch them as if they were on a TV screen. What interests me is that this power asks Palm to change her prospective. As a matter of fact she has to look at things only through one eye and moreover the nature of the ability demands that Palm elaborates a lot of information and of different prospectives she receives all together in one frame.

The attributes of this ability bring to mind three considerations.

1) Being able to see things from a different prospective is something Palm showed she could do during the last part of the CA arc in several occasions.

Here Palm is able to offer Killua an alternative view on how her not being able to see Shaiapouf’s fragments may be useful to them rather than detrimental.

Here, Palm is able to put two plus two together and to connect Youpi’s death to the poison inside the Rose and to deduce in this way that the King is about to die. She is also able to read the current situation perfectly and to put together a plan to face it.

2) Being able to see something from multiple prospectives is what the narrative asks us to do with Palm’s character as it’s shown above. Because of this, giving this character such a power ties perfectly with Palm’s thematical meaning.

3) Palm herself is asked to look at Meruem from a different POV. When she meets him she is able to notice that he is different from the monster she expected. Her initial reaction is one of frustation and denial which is similar to the one Gon had with Pitou:

However, Palm is able to understand Meruem and to accept him and this is partly because she herself has integrated with “otherness”:

She is in part an Ant and she is angry about it. She tells Meruem that she hasn’t forgiven the ants for transforming her. However, at the same time, it’s because of this metamorphosis that Palm has gained a new form of knowledge and it’s because she herself changed that she is able to see that Meruem has changed too. She realizes it and accepts to look at him:

I have written in this other meta how “seeing the other” is a recurring motif of Meruem and Komugi’s interactions. Palm has this motif as well and, if in the end the two lovers are able to see each other despite being both blind, Palm is able to see the two of them despite not being there i.e. despite not being connected to them in any special way. She is able to understand them despite being a stranger. This is called empathy and it’s what Palm’s Wink Blue or Lonesome Deep Sea Fish stands for.

Thank you for reading!

If you are interested in other analysys of HXH characters through their nen abilities here is a list of the ones I wrote up until now:

-Nanika

-Kurapika and Chrollo

-Killua and Illumi

-Gon and Hisoka

-Meruem and Komugi

[samthewrestlingfan]

Bad At Love: Kenny Omega

Hi there, Lovebugs!

Here is a new lil Kenny fic! This is my first time writing Kenny, so please be gentle <3

Let me know if you like it! I enjoyed writing this one :)

Next this to come out will be the next chapter of BELIEVER. (No I haven’t forgotten about it!)

btw this is hella long and im sorry.

Characters: Kenny Omega/OC

Warnings: Alcohol, angst, MILD smut, fluff.

(gif credit: @toosweetme)

I took a swig of my beer, before I practically slammed it down on the table.

You’ve got this, Ella. If he shows up, just ignore him.

I felt a nudge on my side, snapping me out of my daze. “You doin’ okay?” Marty asked.

I nodded at him quickly, returning my attention to my alcohol. I heard an audible sigh come from him, “If you keep acting like this, you’re only going to draw attention to yourself, and how uncomfortable you are.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, Marty. I’m just…” I droned off, not bothering to continue my sentence. Marty excused himself leaving me with my drink and the Bucks on opposite ends of the table.

Truth be told I wasn’t anything; mostly because I wasn’t allowing myself to feel anything. My plan was to enjoy my night out with my friends, and not let Kenny Omega and his inability to think with anything but his dick ruin that for me.

“Els! Come grab a shot with me?” Matt offered.

I perked up at his behest, “Definitely.”

Matt ordered quite literally a whole tray of sake shots, and as we waited for them, I began to loosen up.

Matt cleared his throat suddenly, “Look, I know this probably isn’t my place, but you’re my friend, hell one of my best friends, and Kenny is too. I just don’t want to have the two of you lose a great friendship over this…”

I nodded as he spoke. He was right, I knew what I was getting when I fell for Kenny. I just never expected things to turn so sour so quickly.

Kenny and I had never see each other as more than friends. Ever. At least I didn’t, then one night it just clicked.

…and by clicked, I mean we fucked.

***

“Please let me help you…” Kenny chuckled.

I hiccuped, “Listen you, go back to the party, I’m f-fine!” I laughed, practically falling face first into the side of the elevator.

I was drunk as a skunk and everyone knew it.

“Ella, I swear to God you are the most stubborn person I’ve ever known.” Kenny said grabbing my arm to stabilize me.

I leaned into him and laid my head on his strong shoulder, “Yeah but you love me for it.” I inhaled his scent, he smelled like man and sex and ecstasy. Again, I’m pretty sure this is the alcohol talking.

He kissed my forehead, as the elevator reached my floor. “Let’s go drunky.”

***

I pushed open my hotel room door, Kenny following swiftly behind me.

“Alright Beautiful, Let’s get you in bed.” Kenny held my waist, guiding me into the dimly lit hotel room.

I groaned to myself, “Ughhh, I don’t wanna be alone.” I flopped myself on the edge of the bed, bending down, unstrapping my heels.

Kenny walked toward the bathroom, “You know you contradict yourself a lot? A second ago you told me to go back to the party.” I heard the bathroom door click closed and decided to hurry up and change for bed.

The room was spinning as I undressed, barely able to make out what I was ripping off from where. I was stood in the middle of the room,  and my black thong and matching bra, searching for my pajamas.

“Oh…right.” I mumbled to myself, remembering they were in the bathroom.

I stumbled through the room, and knocked on the door leaning against the frame, “Ken, I need my pjs.”

He swung open the door, “Fuck you’re–” I watched his eyes scan me up and down, “Whoa.”

I snuck by him, grabbing my clothes off the vanity. “What?” I asked.

Kenny cleared his throat, “Ella the tequila may have stolen my filter,  but you look,” He bit his bottom lip, “Incredible.”

My face burned at his compliment, and from my current state of intoxication. “Ken you’ve seen me in my gear, this isn’t that different is it?.” I spun around, giving him a nice view of my round behind, teasing him a bit.

He ran his hand over his face, “Oh-ho-ho, you have no idea…”

I climbed onto the bed, Kenny following quickly after me. I rested on the edge of the bed, my knees dug into the mattress to keep me from wobbling.

I reached out for Kenny and grabbed both sides of his lapel, pulling him into me slowly.

“Still want me to stay?” He asked almost hopeful, placing his hands on my hips.

I paused for a moment, allowing my eyes to connect with his. I saw a hunger in them, one that made a throbbing erupt from between my legs.

“I do.” I breathed.

Kenny brought his face close to mine. “Is this okay?” He asked.

I nodded. He brushed his lips against mine, and ran his rough fingertips up and down my sides. “Is that okay?”

I swallowed hard, “Yes.”

Without hesitation, Kenny kissed me. Hard. His hands searching for every curve my body had…

***

And the rest is history.

Except for the past few weeks, Kenny hadn’t spoken to me outside of work. He stopped calling, stopped texting…everything just stopped and he was gone. Kenny was never just gone, he always woke up with me, our limbs tangled together. He would kiss me good morning, then ask if I wanted to grab breakfast.

“Ella? Did you hear me?” Matt asked, eyebrows raised.

I looked to him quickly, “Hm? Oh yeah. Thanks, Matt.” I said. Truth be told, I stopped listening. I’m sure he was just telling me what everyone was telling me. At this point, I was sick of hear it.

I downed another shot, before excusing myself. “Matt, I’m just gonna run to the bathroom.”

His eyes widened. “But Ella didn’t you–”

“Matt,” I interrupted. “I’m fine.” I gently rubbed his shoulder before turning to walk–or stumble my way. The bar was dim, and smelled like an odd combo of memories and mistakes.

As I turned the corner I stumbled and slammed into the wall.

“Fuck…” I said as I hit the ground.

I heard a gruff laugh, “Nice mouth.” I looked up to see a strong hand held out for me.

God has a sick sense of humor. I thought to myself, realizing Matt must have been trying to warn me.

“You just gonna hang out on the floor all night?” Kenny said sarcastically.

I begrudgingly held my hand out, allowing him to help me up. I rose to my feet, crossing my arms in front of me.

“Thanks.” I spat.

Kenny smiled softly, brushing a stay piece of hair out of my face. “No problem, Els.”

I continued toward the bathroom, a billion thoughts running through my head. Does he hate me now? Was I not good enough for him? Has he moved on to someone else? Someone better than me?

“That’s it.” I grit my teeth together, and stomped back towards Kenny.

“Hey!” I shouted at him as he walked away. His head turned towards me, stopping mid step.

“You. Me. Outside…now.” I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and yanked him towards the door.

He walked with no hesitation. Outside onto the dirty street, and down the small side road next to the bar, he finally stopped to perch against the brick siding.

Kenny’s eyes bore holes into mine. There he was. Right in front of me, and I had every opportunity to say everything I was feeling.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

…and I choked.

“What?” He asked offended.

“What nothing!” I yelled. “You’ve completely ignored me for the past few weeks. You can barely be in my presence for more than two  minutes without finding a reason to leave!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and it felt damn good.

I took a deep breath, “You made me feel like shit, Ken. You made me feel used. Was that your plan? Get your dick wet, then ignore me for the rest of your life?”

Kenny took a step towards me. “Are you done?”

I scoffed, “Unbelievable! I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think Kenny Omega could ever give two fucks about me.”

“Don’t say that…you know I care about you.” He said, hurt painting his words.

“No you don’t. You cared about having someone you could fuck on a moments notice, well jokes on me huh.” I flipped him off, walking away swiftly but he pulled me back.

“Oh no, you don’t get to scream at me like a psycho then just walk away.” He held me still so I couldn’t leave. I snatched my arms back and crossed them in front of me.

“What could you possibly have to say to me to–” Kenny put a finger to my lips. “Ella, please, as much as I love your voice, just…shh.”

Kenny stepped back and brushed his hair back. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”

My eyes flashed to him. “What?” I asked.

“You. The last time we we’re together, you we’re the last person I was with.” He said confidently.

I rolled my eyes, “What does that matter Ken?”

“I don’t know. I’m just offended that you think so fucking little of me.”  He rested his hands on his hips. My head was so foggy from the booze that I couldn’t tell what emotion he put behind that sentence.

“You haven’t exactly given me a reason to think otherwise.” I said, slurring my words despite my best efforts.

“Really? So I guess the years of friendship before any of this happened were pointless?” It was Kenny’s turn to get loud now. I guess I kinda deserve it.

A chill ran up my spine, the cold air registering with my flush body causing me to shiver. Kenny noticed, and stopped his pacing to walk toward me.

He let out a small laugh, before removing his jacket and placing it over my shoulders. “See? I’m not this heartless monster you made me out to be.”

This is the Kenny I knew. Sweet, and kind and always taking care of everyone. “Thank you.” I smiled softly.

“Did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want to hurt you?” He mumbled suddenly.

“What?” I questioned.

He cleared his throat. “Ella I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t know how to do the whole one girl thing.”

I scoffed, “Did I ever ask you for that?”

“No, but it’s what you deserve.” He spoke.

“Kenny, I knew what I was getting when we started whatever we were doing.” And that was true. I needed someone and so did he. We were more than comfortable with one another and it seemed to be enough, until my dumbass caught feelings.

“I was sick to my fucking stomach thinking about you with someone else. I couldn’t sleep without you next to me. I don’t know when I became such a fucking softy.” He laughed.

I placed a hand on his cheek. “Why did you just up and disappear then?” I said.

He sighed. “I needed to know if what I was feeling was something or if we had just gotten too comfortable with each other.”

I looked up to his eyes, “Well?” I asked.

He paused before he spoke, obviously trying to word what he wanted to say, “I fell for you, Els. I fell hard. I know I’ve been dick and I’m sorry. If you’d give me the time, I promise I’ll spend as long as you’d like making it up to you.”

My heart skipped a beat as he spoke. I didn’t know what to do beside stretch up and kiss him.

…and that’s exactly what I did.

I tangled my hands in his hair, our mouths getting familiar with one another again. Kenny pulled back and rested his forehead on mine. “I’ve missed that, Els.”

“Me too.” I said.

He stood up, offering me his hand. “C'mon. Let’s go celebrate with our nosey friends.” Kenny said gesturing to Nick and Matt’s faces in the window.

I took his hands and gripped it tight, “Can I buy my girl a drink?” He asked as he held the door.

My stomach churned at his offer. “Not a chance, Babe.”

[shoosip]

Weirdly enough and this is not to justify some writing choices in the Loki series… there is a loophole that they clearly chose to follow and exploit.

Variants.

Rumors has it that some writers did NOT watch previous movies to write this series. BUT, when you speak about variants, even tho every single one of them is in essence the same being, they are not the same person.

Example:

Classic Loki is not our Loki nor the Loki of the sacred timeline. Same as Sylvie, she is *A* Loki but not THE Loki. The last Mobius we saw was not OUR Mobius. (Or at least that is my explanation for why the TVA was so different from the one we previously knew.)

So, even if some agree that TVA Loki is a bit “OCC” the truth is that… it is a completely different Loki from the previous movies. The most close thing to this Loki should be the one from the New York events.

Now… weirdly enough, after I have finished Ragnarok, this Ragnarok Loki is the one that resembles the TVA Loki the most. Taika Waititi not only left the perception of good and evil representation in both Gods, Thor and Loki. He also explore in both characters this comic side to the both of them.

Granted, this Loki had gone through much to be this version of himself but still, you see that he is a person that rather than having a destiny of keep being the black ship, is shown as someone who has a free will of choosing his own path.

Much like the TVA Loki and I believe the writers… didn’t do this on purpose (since there is so much contradiction going on) but is nice to see that the TVA Loki is shown the same way.

Yes, there are people telling him he is the one who was created to be nothing more than a villain, but there are also people that show him that he has the choice to be whoever and whatever he decides to be. And specially this is something he discovers on his own.

Which leads me to the conclusion that I had after watching that show and it is that, those chapters were good. Not the ‘greatest masterpiece grrr rated in history’ type of good but the ‘I have time and people have been talking about this, so I’ll watch’ type of good.

There are things that needed more discussion, things that have not been address and seem to be forgotten in there. Like what happened there with Thanos? Or his brother? His Father? Those things were not even mentioned, shown in flashbacks or a video player but not addressed fully.

The plot clearly was to open the multiverse and yeah you don’t need all this things to open it. But it would have been nice to at least know of this aspects about the main character and explore him in that way.

It is a loophole that was used to create this new version of him and while it works, it also damages a little his overall character development. While the sacred timeline Loki grew to the point of freeing himself of this destiny talk, the TVA Loki was forced to free himself.

It was not the same satisfactory feeling and it seems most of us attribute this breakfree to other characters and not him. Mobius and Sylvie being the ones to blame for this change. And it is good that Loki has this kind of influence in his life but also what’s beautiful about the og Loki is that his character grew alone. Don’t mix the external influences like events or stories between characters, that’s another thing. Mobius and Sylvie served literally as that changing factor, Mobius (and I don’t mean it in hater way) crushed him to free him. He needed to break his walls to finally tell him, you make your own decisions. And Sylvie practically shoved into him her own purpose, leading him to ‘better’ himself in order to get to Kang.

At the end what’s nice, is that he makes his own decision to analyze what Kang had to say and evaluate the situation. He was his own persona, who chose to be patient and not follow his anger but unlike Sylvie, he could not bring her to realize this.

The show is a rollercoaster of emotions because I both agree and disagree on things. Even before this marathon of MCU movies and series. So I hope next season things like this will be taken into consideration(? Not exactly what I said but maybe put a little more thought on things and not take the movies for granted. After all, even if both Lokis have different paths, they are the same being.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Shadow Over Seventh Heaven Review, Part II: Jenny Wren and Richard Redbreast

Image source: “Da Luna et Ramsès- Doberman – Frère et Sœur -” by ERAL. Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 2.0 license.

Welcome back to my review series for Shadow Over Seventh Heaven, the second novel by Ian Martin, original headwriter for Strange Paradise and second most prolific writer for CBS Radio Mystery Theater, published under the name of his second wife Joen Arliss. It’s been two and a half weeks, and I have been dying to go back to recapping this not-quite-rare-but-close piece of Martiniana.

In Part I, we learned of the late April Tennant, legendary star of the silver screen, whose glamorous life ended suddenly when she fell from the cliffs on her home estate of San Rafael. We also learned of her husband Richard Morgan, a legendary actor in his own right, and met his overly attached sister Lisa, who is not pleased by his recent remarriage, and Chita, their very Raxl-esque servant who clings to April’s memory. In this installment, we will meet Richard and his new wife, Jenny, themselves as they return from the Philippines to the former Spanish mission which may or may not be haunted by the spirit of his first wife.

Chapter 3

We open with our heroine, Jenny (née Summers), and her new husband Richard at the Manila International Airport, where paparazzi are hounding them. “She had seen [crowds] at fiestas, at rallies for President Marcos or even his opponents [1], at rush hours, church holidays, national holidays. The Philippine Islands abounded in inland fish, and in rice, but most of all, in people. But she had never seen a crowd quite like this” (p. 22). She is a little frightened, but Richard, for whom this is apparently a regular occurrence, tells her to keep moving until they get through the sea of people--which, given the current circumstances around the globe, sounds like a nightmare even though this book takes place about forty years ago.

A reporter starts to interview her and reminds her, almost right after their marriage, that she is replacing the legendary April Tennant:

“Mrs. Morgan--you are the envy of most every woman in the world as well as here in the Philippines. How does it feel to be Mrs. Richard Morgan the second?”

“You don’t have to answer,” Richard said protectively.

“But I want to,” she said. “It feels marvelous! I’m the luckiest woman in the world!”

“Aren’t you a little afraid?” the young man persisted.

Jenny wasn’t going to admit that to a stranger.

“Why should I be afraid?” she said.

“You are replacing a very exceptional woman.”

Now the noose of fear tightened around her neck, so that momentarily she could not answer. It was Richard who did for her.

“My first wife is dead,” he said with barely repressed anger. “For God’s sake let April rest in peace. For her own sake as well as ours. Now please--we have a plane to catch” (p. 23).

They leave him and hounding turns to harassing as rabid Richard Morgan fans begin reaching for them, tearing off pieces of her collar and the Filipino-style flower appliqué on her skirt and stealing Richard’s pocket square. “It was a good-natured, adulating adoring crowd,” the narration insists, “but like every mass of humanity, a possibly dangerous and uncontrollable force” (pp. 23-24). Sorry, narrator, but to me, it still sounds like a COVID nightmare--literally. I’ve had nightmares about this kind of thing for months. Generally, I try to avoid writing about current events on here because I don’t consider it appropriate for a blog about escapist Gothic melodrama, but this scene reminds me of some of my recent dreams.

Anyhow, the crowd and the reporter only reinforce Jenny’s feelings that she’s already in April’s shadow. Before Richard took an interest in her, she was only the daughter of an obscure American ambassador, not even an actress like April. She just got married and already she is having second thoughts, and not because of her husband:

Then that miserable worm of fear began to gnaw at her again, and she so desperately didn’t want to face the truth. But the words said themselves inexorably to her, marching across the inside of her eyelids as though chiseled on some granite rock that revolved before her inner sight, or burned so deeply on an indestructible tape that they could never be eradicated. The trouble is April Tennant. The woman the whole world revered and loved. They only wanted to see Jennifer, weigh her, find her wanting. They knew nobody could replace April--and that nobody had the right to try. Only without realizing what she was getting into, Jenny had done it. For once, she was the big attraction. But they didn’t think she could measure up, and she wasn’t sure she could herself. How had she ever thought she could? (pp. 24-25)

As they head for their flight, a crowd of “smiling brown people” cheer for them to return, and one little Filipina girl even chases Jenny down to give her “a woven garland of sampaguita flowers” (pp. 25-26). I must admit that I don’t know much about Filipino history, but I have trouble imagining that a crowd of Filipino people would cheer on the (presumably white) daughter of an American official who, given U.S. foreign policy at the time, would have backed Marcos’ repressive regime. Do I believe that they cheer for an international celebrity like Richard? Yes. Would they want to wish him a happy marriage? Probably. But I can’t imagine them liking Jenny much, for reasons that have nothing to do with April Tennant.

Chapter 4

This chapter begins with a description of Richard Morgan’s appearance that is an entire page long:

His mouth was full, the lips unusually red, with just the slightest quirk in repose which suggested sardonicism...The nose was classic, intriguingly flawed by some old injury...The eyes were brown, so dark that they were almost black, smoldering under somewhat sullen brows...His hair was a great, tousled, tawny mane, unruly, and resistant to brush or comb. His eyebrows had a fierceness about them that seemed to challenge anyone to cross swords; but this aggressive effect was completely belied by the way one or another would twitch and cock upward as though laughing at the world--or perhaps himself. His chin was probably too prominent, but again the feeling of overconfidence and overwhelming strength was softened by the deep cleft in the middle of it that broke the uncompromising line. He was not a tall man--perhaps an inch under six feet--but he carried himself with the lithe balance of a jungle animal or a trained athlete, and there was hardly anyone who did not think of him as tall and powerful. He was a man who even in repose radiated a sense of kinetic and tireless energy (pp. 29-30).

Richard Morgan, according to the cover artist.

Honestly, I was disappointed the first time I read this passage because he doesn’t much resemble Colin Fox. Virtually the only features the two have in common are the nose and the way they carry themselves--and (if we are talking about Jacques’ portrait) the lips. I always find it interesting how male authors describe the male characters whom others in the story find attractive, especially when said author is straight and writing for a female audience. Therefore, this is likely Ian Martin’s idea of what an incredibly handsome man looks like and/or his idea of what the average straight woman wants.

That, in turn, makes me wonder if this is how he visualized Jean Paul Desmond and his lookalike ancestor Jacques Eloi des Mondes, especially given that most of the other characters (and many fans, myself included) see them as incredibly handsome. Richard does have several facial features in common with John Bayliss, the actor originally cast in those roles, but there isn’t any evidence to suggest that their resemblance is anything more than a coincidence.[2]

The SP character whose appearance Richard’s description most closely matches, the Reverend Matthew Dawson. Lacks the unruly tawny hair and the sardonic lips and doesn’t carry himself like Richard, but the eyes are similar and they have the same chin. Not ugly (Dan MacDonald was better-looking IMO than the guy on the cover), but also not my idea of male perfection.

While relaxing on the plane, Jenny allows herself the luxury of thinking about herself instead of Matt Dawson’s tawny-haired twin. We learn that her name isn’t actually Jennifer--which contradicts the passage above where she calls herself that--but just Jenny, and that her parents named her after Jenny Wren from the (surprisingly dark) nursery rhyme “The Wedding of Robin Redbreast and Jenny Wren.” She relates in particular to the part where the wren says “I must wear my plain brown gown / And never go too fine,” because she dislikes not just putting on airs, but thinking about herself, period, which she attributes  to her strict upbringing. She’s almost cartoonishly modest, which is pretty typical of Gothic ingenues and of Linda Barclay, the protagonist of Martin’s earlier “romantic suspense” book, Nightmare’s Nest, who was even more so.

We flash back to the evening she met Richard, who was apparently an old friend of Nene Ilusorio, one of her late father’s friends who became her close companion following his death in a helicopter crash. At that time, April was not yet dead, so Richard had to keep his dates with Jenny secret. They traveled out to the mountains together, where she showed him the rice paddies the locals constructed on the mountains with their irrigation system and where he won her heart by quoting Robert Burns’ poem “My Heart’s in the Highlands.” Apparently women find men who like Robert Burns irresistible, at least according to this and the Kitty Soames storyline on Dark Shadows. I can’t confirm, though, because no man has ever quoted Burns to me or given me a book of his poems.

Chapter 5

A filler chapter about Jenny and Richard’s flight from Honolulu (where they had a layover) to San Francisco. I got excited at one point when Richard said, “We had a picture half done that had to be scrapped because of her death” (p. 46), thinking at first that he was referring to the portrait and being reminded of two certain other portraits of a certain character from Strange Paradise. But then I realized, no, he means “picture” as in “movie,” not as in “painting,” and got disappointed. We also learn that Richard has an encyclopedic knowledge of all the classic poets and playwrights, not just Robert Burns. In a flashback, Richard recites Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poem “How do I love thee?” for her in his amazing voice, leaving her “drunk on love” and “drunk on all [the poets to whom he introduced her]” (p. 54). If he sounds anything like Colin, I can understand why she’s so seduced by him reading poetry. Even so, if I were her, I wouldn’t be able to get past the fact that he’s quoting other people instead of using his own words to convey his love. If Jean Paul could come up with something new to say to his frozen wife four days a week for a month, then surely Richard can as well. He's just being lazy--or is he? The back cover (”WHAT LAY BEHIND THE MASK OF LOVE?”) hints at some possible deception on his part.

Chapter 6

Jenny and Richard arrive back in California, and the story starts to pick up again.  This is roughly where “Here Goes the Bride” begins, not counting the teaser at the beginning. They are driving along the Pacific shore in a red Mercedes  without air conditioning, and Richard refuses to let her roll the windows down because he doesn’t want anyone to recognize him. He angsts for a while about how, even though actors like him need the audience in order to live and “for the magic to come alive,” the audience has become increasingly like “a great, crouching tiger...a creature of emotion and whim that can turn on you suddenly and get completely beyond your control” (p. 59). He rants about how April’s fans worshiped her and made almost a cult around her, and about how they will most likely go ballistic if they see him with another woman instead of playing “the high priest, ascetic, mourning, forever dedicated to her memory” (p. 60). By driving the car with the windows up, he hopes to avoid the paparazzi and other stalkers on their way to San Rafael.

We learn in a flashback, by the way, that the car is Lisa’s and that Richard had Jenny disguise herself as her by putting on a hat and sunglasses. Jenny asks if she really looks like Lisa--which, if it were true, would imply that he reciprocated Lisa’s feelings for him, at least on an unconscious level--but he says no. Her hair is dark, while Jenny’s is “tawny gold” (p. 63), which I had forgotten, probably because Lisa reminds me too much of Cersei Lannister not to picture her as such. Also, Richard has dark hair now, too? Two chapters earlier, his hair was tawny like Jenny’s. I guess this book’s editor didn’t notice the continuity error--not that it was that important, anyway.

The woman on the cover, most likely Jenny.

While waiting for Juan to open the gates, Jenny stares in awe at the fortifications surrounding the estate--which, as you may recall from Chapter 1, Richard had built around the estate, allegedly to keep his and April’s rabid fans out, and even added the broken glass himself. “It’s like a fortress--barbed wire, broken glass,” she exclaims. “And the gate looks as though you borrowed it from the Bastille!” The mention of the Bastille reads like subtle foreshadowing of a later reveal, but, per my self-imposed rule against spoilers, I won’t say any more about it for now. The gates open and we hear Richard’s pack of snarling dogs for the first time, the sound of which makes her uneasy. She asks about them and Richard just says, “They’re our guardian angels. They patrol the grounds at night” (p. 67).

We also meet Juan, “a square-set Mexican...a man of some sixty years, with a sun-whipped face that was as craggy and seared with lines as the landscape they had just passed outside the gate” and “blackened teeth in a dark-brown face dried by so many days of sun that the oil had cooked from the skin until it was tanned like animal hide” (p. 67). Here we have the third piece of evidence of the dystopian nature of life at San Rafael. First, we saw the excessive level of security which Jenny compared to the most notorious prison of France’s ancien régime; next, we heard snarling from Richard’s kennel; and now, it is implied that Juan doesn’t get paid enough to afford either modern dentistry, sunscreen, or a good moisturizer. Combine this with Richard’s refusal to romance Jenny in his own words and his insistence that they drive with the windows up and no air conditioning in southern California, and his behavior abounds with red flags. It does make you wonder what lay behind the mask of love, and it’s quite reminiscent of early Jean Paul and his control-freak tendencies even when Jacques isn’t possessing him.

Unlike Quito, his Strange Paradise equivalent, Juan can speak and often does. Half of his dialogue is in Spanish, the other half in English. Sometimes he will even randomly throw a Spanish word into a mostly English sentence (ex. “They will not be tranquilo till they see you for themselves” (p. 68), which, even with my extremely limited knowledge of Spanish, I know should read “tranquilos,” because he is talking about the dogs). This, combined with his appearance and the mention that he stands “with Indian patience, unmoving and stolid” (p. 70), makes him come across as rather stereotypical. It’s surprising how SP, despite being a decade older, has actually aged slightly better than this book in terms of racial matters--although, given that this book is forty years old, that’s to be expected.

Upon meeting Juan, Jenny feels “an icy whisk of rejection that shuddered between her shoulderblades [sic]” (p. 68), as though she knows before he says anything that he is a card-carrying member of the Cult of April Tennant. He reveals to Jenny that the dogs “are trained to kill...anyone who does not belong here,” and that they will only protect her “if they learn to know you belong” (p. 70). Then he casts a huge heaping of doubt on whether that will ever happen:

Jenny’s voice was hushed and sympathetic.

“You must have loved her very much.”

He lifted his head proudly, the dark deep-set eyes flashing from under the craggy brows. “She was La Senora de la Casa!”

The statement was simple and obdurate. A declaration of faith that shook Jenny because it was so basic. She found herself fighting to keep her throat from tightening up as she answered tentatively, “I hope you won’t blame me too much for taking her place.”

The answer, although delivered with remote courtesy, was flatly uncompromising. “There is no one to take her place” (p. 71).

Richard interrupts them when he returns with all six of his dogs on leashes, which frightens her even more now that Juan has given her reason to suspect that the dogs, too, worship April Tennant and will not accept anyone in her place. He probably wants them to reject her, especially because he never thought to give her some bones or treats to use to win their loyalty. If I were in her position, I would be begging Juan for some good cow knuckles filled with marrow for them to gnaw on. Then--assuming that he obliged--I’m sure they would love me forever.

Chapter 7

Richard introduces Jenny to his dogs, six Doberman pinschers named for “the six noblest Romans of them all. Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Marc Anthony--Mark for short--Cinna, and Casca” (p. 74). He has them demonstrate their obedience to him--while he demonstrates more of his own control-freak-ness--by ordering them to sit, then charge, then shake hands with her. Much to Juan’s likely chagrin, Richard has every intention on making the dogs recognize her as their new mistress, and so he has her give them dog biscuits.

They all appear to like her except for Casca, who is slightly less quick to obey Richard’s commands and also reluctant to kiss Jenny’s hand, unlike the others. She’s relieved to have found acceptance from them so quickly, but Juan has to rain on her proverbial parade by staring silently “with no solitary hint that he shared the dogs’ enthusiasm for Jenny” (p. 77).

Chapter 8

They get back in the car and continue driving (how vast is the estate?), this time with the top down because of the lack of prying eyes. We learn as they drive to San Rafael that April’s mother had it built, something that Richard doesn’t want to admit, but which he makes obvious at least to the reader:

“When April’s mother-” He choked that off and rephrased, biting his tongue for bringing up her name. “I mean, when the property was first bought, some foundations were discovered where the house was to be built; and the architect sold Apr--ah--them on recreating a Spanish mission. It was picturesque, but not very practical for modern living, so when Ap--I mean, when I was married and entered the picture, some changes were made [like the addition of that portrait, I assume]” (p. 79).

Jenny expresses her doubts that San Rafael “will open its arms to [her] and invite [her] in,” and he responds by kissing her, which doesn’t answer her question, but whatever:

He lifted her chin, tilting her face toward him gently, his eyes flickering back and forth across hers, his own gleaming and almost mesmeric as the sun slowly slipped down over the horizon. Then very slowly he touched his mouth to hers, his lips opening against hers as he quite suddenly pressed against her ardently, his tongue lightly touching hers, engaging it, probing and awakening her mouth and the answering touch of lips and tongue, till all the world was blotted out, and there was only the rush of teeming blood, throbbing in the head and along all the nerves to the end, and the surge of desire that blotted out anything else (p. 80).

Unbeknownst to them, Chita and Lisa are spying on them, wondering why the car stopped! (ROFL) When Chita realizes what’s going on, she criticizes Richard in true prudish Raxl fashion: “That he would be so shameless in daylight,” says she. “To take this woman in his arms--” (p. 81). Lisa reminds her that they are married now; although the narration doesn’t mention a twinge of jealousy, I’ve no doubt in my mind that she wishes she were Jenny in that car.

Richard and Jenny get out and Lisa rushes to hug them. Surprisingly, she acts outwardly friendly towards Jenny, who notices that “[Lisa’s] dark blue eyes were penetrating as they took in Jenny in one swift appraisal. They might have frightened Jenny except for the deep spark of interest in them, and the wide smile which she didn’t realize was uncharacteristic for LIsa” (p. 82).

Then he introduces Jenny to Chita, whom she instantly dislikes. “From her long sojourn in the Philippines,” the narration tells us, “she was very conscious of relationships between employer and servant. Not that she subscribed to the sort of feudal system that existed there, but simply because she was an extraordinarily sensitive girl who was responsive to human vibrations. And she could tell that Conchita’s were not right about her” (pp. 83-84).

Conchita, likewise, has a bad first impression of Jenny, thinking her a snob because of her use of Castilian instead of Mexican Spanish. But Jenny doesn’t realize that, instead noticing and fixating on the portrait of April:

Either by accident or design, those were the lights which Conchita had turned on. In the gloom of the hall, the full-length portrait dominated everything. Every detail of that matchless beauty was so sharp and clear that the figure of this lovely woman seemed to be alive and breathing.

And to Jenny, to be warning her and saying, “Why did you come? You don’t belong. How did you dream you could take my place? Did you think I would ever allow you to? This is my home, and Richard is mine. I’ll never let either of them go” (pp. 84-85)!

Compared to the beginning, Chapters 3 through 8 are not very meaty. These chapters are like chicken wings compared to the drumsticks that were the intro and the first two chapters. The main similarities that I found between these chapters and Strange Paradise were (1) the revelation that, like Maljardin-era Jean Paul, Richard is a control freak who is obsessed with his privacy and (2) the introduction of Juan, who fills Quito’s role as loyal male retainer but talks using occasionally inaccurate gratuitous Spanish (the “tranquilo” line). There is a lot of filler and also perhaps a little too much repetition of the idea that no one can ever take April’s place as mistress of San Rafael, so not as enjoyable as Part I or the next part of the story.

Coming up next: We get our first set of hints about April’s mysterious past, while Jenny tries to adjust to life in a house that may or may not be haunted by her spirit.

{ <- Previous: Part I   ||   Next: Part III -> }

Notes

[1] Did Ferdinand Marcos even allow his opponents to hold rallies? As I said above, I don’t know much about Filipino history, but I do know that he ruled over the Philippines as a dictator and tried to suppress any opposition to him. Most likely either the above passage is inaccurate or what Martin is describing are actually political protests, but it’s worded in a way that suggests that he thought of Filipino politics in the 1970s-1980s as more democratic than they actually were.

[2] I did look up Michael Wager, the actor who played Richard in the original radio drama, and he did resemble this description (and was indeed quite handsome, if I do say so myself). However, it would be strange for Martin to have Richard look like his original actor when none of the other characters in the book do. Notably, Jenny’s description in the book as a gray-eyed blonde bears no resemblance to her original actress Ruby Dee--which I suspect may have something to do with the publisher wanting to avoid controversy for depicting interracial marriage, as Ruby Dee was black.