#i assume nobody will read it anyway its just. grieving

[arsenicflame]

its been a year now, since my dad died. i think in many ways i grieved before it ever happened, and in many others, i havent even started. it feels like its been too easy to adapt into a life without him around, without his laughter, telling him about my work day (and him being genuinely interested), his help with all my diy projects, without popping my head round the study door as he was inevitably playing free cell or something on his computer again (instead of what my mum actually wanted him to be doing). i feel like in a lot of ways i learnt more about him after he died than i did while he was here- about the man he was before, anyway. i wonder about how life would have been different if he didn't have cancer, or at least not for so long. i remember doing rock climbing with him as a kid, going on long walks over welsh hills, but i also remember how that largely stopped, and how it feels like it coincided with his diagnosis. i wonder if id have appreciated it more if it continued into my teens. hearing about all the things he did in his youth, his work with getting kids into the outdoors, the way he would pay out of pocket for kids expeditions if they couldnt afford it, it makes me feel so proud of him and also feel a desperate longing to have known that man more. maybe nothing would have been different, anyway. maybe things changed when he moved, before i was even born, i guess ill never really know, he never really talked about it properly to me, not the stories ive heard over the last year. i think thats been my dominant thought through this. i think so much of my last year has been supporting my mother, though this and with her own health issues, i havent had time to stop and think of much else. ive just had to keep going as though nothings changed. i think maybe its been too easy to adapt into a life where hes not here. i sometimes worry im doing this wrong; when other people talk about how hard it is. i think its been too easy. too easy to close up the spaces he occupied. too easy to forget the exact tone of his voice. and yet sometimes its so hard too. we did a seder this year and it wasnt the same without him. i think that was, more than anything, the moment where i missed him. it wont ever be the same ever again. nothings ever going to be the same ever again, but im glad hes not suffering anymore. those last few weeks were the hardest thing i think i will ever do. but i still miss him so so much. i wish it hadnt gone this way. im glad i got 12 years at least. im glad he got to see me grow up. i think, despite everything, he was proud of where i ended up, even if it wasnt what he probably wanted for me. i hope he was. i wish i could talk to him just one more time.

[nomairuins]

i wish there was a way for me to likeee. semi change this one thingin this one mod. but 1 im not a modder 2 i feel like thats disrespectful. i just want sort of an inbetween between the game and this mod but that is not a thing that exist... sigh

[party-gilmore]

absolutely wild learning about my austistic leanings later in life because like

my parents just thought i was “eccentric” and found me rather entertaining, weirdness and all (plus their own probably undiagnosed AuDHD making their benchmark for normal skewed anyway) and my mon specifically was always so ��mever change for anyone just be you” from a very young age so i just…

never experienced the concept of masking i guess?

Not as masking, I mean.

i would read accounts from autistic people talking about their experiences and struggles and pressure to conform and masking and the mental effects thereof and i would feel empathy because i “went through similar issues” but i th

i thought i was just being bullied for being Weird. just in general. like kids do. that this was a case of “well this sounds a lot like what i go through, but im not actually autistic so it probably isnt my place to join the conversation.”

it just never clicked that, “um. hi. these are the exact same behaviors you do. and there were moments in your life that almost led you to masking. because thats what it would’ve been. masking. but your dumb ass thought it wouldve just been ‘changing how you act and who you are in order to be bullied less’ which okay TECHNICALLY yes that is an accurate if watered down description of masking too, but.

Then you refused to on principle, because bullying is bad and fuck you and got angry about it to the point of overcompensating and INCREASING your Behaviors (tm) until you completely skipped over one of the key experiences that wouldve helped you identify with other people on the spectrum later in life.”

I just rolled through life like a steamroller of righteous, spiteful confidence that my preferences and actions were nobody’s business but my own and vice versa unless they clearly and directly affected others - so much so that I never actually set any kind of benchmark pattern for the way (NT) people around me act.

So I never had a benchmark for masking.

like im going back through all my memories of friendships that soured because i took everything at face value instead of trying to read deeper into cues. because I would always just say what i wanted people to know, straight up. like if i wanted attention i would ask for it if i wanted them to know i was hurt i would tell them. That made so much sense to me i assumed that was the norm. Because clearly. Thats logical. and obvious. So certainly other people are doing the same.

I got blinsided a LOT by the games my school friends and later some early adult friends played, yeah, but AGAIN (see: steamroller of self confidence) I simply assumed that was THEIR problem, not mine, and just… grieved the friendship and hoped for their sake they’d eventually sort their shit out 🤣

I literally thought they were the ones having difficulty with social contracts and cues and relationships.

Then over the past couple years the more I see accounts from other people in the AuDHD spectrum, like “yeah neurotypicals actually [thing i had been assuming was just an asshole trait for years without questioning it], heres what they really mean and a good script for responding” and “its funny how i [exact behavior i did for years] and no one realized i was austistic till later” im like… 🙃

And the last kicker was the post about food touching with the tag response “sometimes masking your autistic traits ends up more autistic than the unmasked trait” and my gut reactions were, in order:

…why would you bother to mask that, why is the way you eat anyone elses business?

i mean i guess it would ease up the pressure a bit, i got bullied for that too, i can see how maybe you wouldnt want to have to put… up with…

…

oHHHH SHIT IS THAT WHAT IT WOULDVE BEEN. IF I HADNT BEEN SO ANGRY ABOUT BEING ASKED TO CHANGE. IT WOULDVE BEEN MASKING. IF I’D KNOWN WHAT THAT WAS. THIS WHOLE TIME.

its just… its just been a series of months of me shaking my head and realizing my entire life has been that meme like “Am I having difficulties connecting socially??? No, it is everyone else who is wrong.”

🤣 girl help

[ectonurites]

do u have any thoughts on the whole “tim is zapped to time prison” storyline? bc i feel like it could have been pretty interesting and a good way to bring back young justice/tim’s memories more immediately if it hadn’t been such a blatant attempt to just get tim out of storylines bc they had no ideas for his character

sorry lol u don’t have to respond i just kind of wish people talked about this storyline more? and the fact that tim lowkey became one of the only people in dc with knowledge of the other timelines (i think so at least) and nobody really addressed it?? like going into the next phase where people learn about other timelines after death metal.... tim should already know some of this stuff right?

YES YES YES OKAY LETS TALK ABOUT THIS this got incredibly long because I just have a lot to say (and i included screenshots) and i prob got a little off topic but. but lets get started anyways:

i haven’t read that particular storyline in a few months so i might be missing/misremembering some details here, but that whole ‘time prison + future tim’ thing was like. a really really interesting concept and the implications/impacts it has are a big part of why i liked tynion’s detective comics run as much as i did even with it’s flaws in characterization (such as treating tim like he was jimmy neutron boy genius and making steph..... be all ready to quit/breakaway from the team like that. the steph quitting characterization really started i think in batgirl convergence and unfortunately has haunted her since, even though pre reboot never giving up was like...... one of her defining traits. dc i hate you sometimes) 

i think that one of the biggest things that bothers me about the situation is how little we saw most of the other characters in the batfamily grieve (aside from steph and some with bruce, but again the way steph was portrayed just... hhhhhh. it very much reduced her to ‘tims girlfriend’ more than i’d have preferred) but otherwise like...as far as I can remember there was maybe one line in that monsters crossover thing where dick mentioned tim was gone, jason had a single line about avoiding the funeral in rhato, i dont think they showed any reaction from babs at all until after he was back, and the most for damian I recall is at the end of the 2014 teen titans run (#24) where he looks at... a case with the old red robin uniform Tim wasn’t even wearing anymore when he died? and that just bugs me. Instead of getting to see the actual funeral we get one flashback to it way after the fact once Bruce already knows Tim’s not actually dead

But at the time when they all DID think he was dead? the closest thing we see was in that same teen titans issue (#24) there’s a memorial-type ‘sharing stories’ thing after the funeral with tim’s titans friends but.... we don’t see something like that with his family. tim is a major presence in these peoples’ lives, they are his family, when he gets sent into time prison its even SAID how loved he apparently is

its just... idk. they all thought he was dead, and if they had put more emphasis on showing not just telling how that effected EVERYONE (not just steph) in the batfam, it might have felt a lot less like they were just putting tim away until there was a story idea for him. (like obviously I know they can’t make everyone’s stories revolve around Tim, but I’d have way preferred a detective comics issue of the funeral/memorial with the family than having there only be a teen titans one, I think it would have... held more relevance & meaning... but instead they just went right into that monster crossover story instead of lingering on this)

but then the Tim story itself once it does pick up way later, with titans tomorrow/future tim coming along having that whole “tell conner you’re sorry” “who’s conner?” exchange with current tim... that opens up A LOT of things to think about, and I think was pretty interestingly done if i’m remembering correctly. future tim recognizes the timelines are different, and ya know goes off to try to change things further ("whaddaya got there?” “a gun to kill batwoman” “NO!!!!”), theres lots of fighting etc etc the good guys win as we expect, but once that’s all settled tim’s left there with this whole. thought process

which ya know is the big indicator there’s weird timeline/reality fuckery going on (or also the read here can be that tim and kon are so connected across all space and time that their bond can transcend anything even timelines and realities and reboots... “and they were soulmates” “oh my god they were soulmates”) 

ANYWAYS lets not forget that tim isnt the only one who learns about this other timeline stuff during this whole situation!

Brother Eye has records of future tim’s timeline, and cass & steph see who they used to be! and as soon as steph finds out ‘holy shit i was ROBIN and BATGIRL?’ she also desperately wants to know more! which then a bit later leads into young justice 2019 where instead of going off to college like they told Bruce they were gonna, Steph and Tim go get the help of Zatanna to see what might be going on in their brains with these timelines and weird feelings (as we see in flashback form in yj 2019 #5)

and HOO BOY DOES SHE FIND THINGS! she gets in there and finds out that oh yeah, their brains had very much so been tampered with, and with her magic she undoes some of it, by unlocking memories, and Tim finally remembers Conner! (also in case u were wondering, that panel is specifically a callback to this one from yj 1998 #17 when Cissie quit the team)

one thing that I think is weird/interesting/idk if it gets... properly addressed even, was that Zatanna also poked around Steph’s brain too and she didn’t remember everything? Might have something to do even with how Tim had been in time prison, might have taken less work from Z to open things up because of that? Who knows

additionally i wanna call attention to how he said “That entire chapter of my life” which... leading into my next point a bit... strongly leads me to believe even though he’s remembering some things he definitely does not have ALL of his memories back (because theres a lot more than just the young justice ‘chapter’ of tim’s life that was drastically changed by the new 52 & rebirth) 

BUT moving on, i wanna bring up this part from later on (after they figured out that there was a crisis that caused things in the world to change, which is why their memories/brains were messed with) in issue #16

so yeah, I think it’s indicated even though Zatanna brought back some memories and opened up his brain a bit, there’s still many holes, and some things seem more like dreams rather than memories and he’s probably unable to tell which are which on his own to some extent. (also for reference the real thing that Tim thought was just a dream is... likely yj 1998 issue #1)

So based on the things i’ve brought up here (which are the things I remember off the top of my head, I could easily be accidentally leaving shit out LMAO i haven’t fully read through any of these books in at least 3 or more months now) I think it’s safe to assume that Tim definitely has a head start on getting back his memories before Death Metal happens, but that it was by no means a complete thing. So the after effects of Death Metal are probably just gonna... be a little less drastic for him vs most other people because it was already happening, but it’ll be kinda filling in the remaining gaps? 

And like you said he is absolutely one of the few people that already knew about about the timelines/the fact that these crises have happened and changed things, but pretty much all the other young justice characters are also aware that there was meddling in the timeline/that multiple timelines and alternate universes like this exist since they were all together as a group when it got explained (in like. yj 2019 #15 i believe is where most of the explaining happens) (and cass as well is aware of things to some extent because of her and steph’s interaction with Brother Eye) but the difference is that Zatanna didn’t go into everyone’s brains, so they aren’t dealing with the same memory things as Tim (and possibly Steph? because again Z DID go in her brain, she just wasn’t able to unlock all the same things as she did with Tim) 

but yeah in general i SO wish this was explored more, both in canon and in fanworks (fanworks tho... that can still happen >:3c). Memories hazily coming in for Tim while Kon and Bart are able to confirm or deny things, him dealing with conflicting memories and feelings about his past as they trickle in... like I think we’ll start to see these types of things moving forward across a lot of titles with Infinite Frontier (i BELIEVE dont quote me on this but I BELIEVE the person writing Damian’s upcoming solo had mentioned in an interview that the memories coming back of the other timeline aren’t going to be an all at once thing but will be more gradual for most characters) but the fact that it theoretically had already been happening for Tim for MONTHS and we only got that one crumb indicating it in #16 of it instead of any actual exploration makes me SAAAAAAD 

[write-a-bad-romance]

Holy Woman pt. 2

(A continuation of Holy Woman. Part 1 can be found here)

Ao3 link: Here

Words: 2939

This work features mild spoilers for Jean’s route and a genderbent (female) version of Jean d’Arc.

In this chapter: MC and another suitor appears!

pallida mors aequo pulsat pede pauperum tabernas regumque turres 

"Whatever you're thinking, don't." Vlad spoke.

"Whatever I'm thinking?"

The living room was blissfully silent, save for the intermittent crackles from the fireplace. Spring was soon upon them, and most of the snow had thawed from the mountainsides, giving way to lush greens and light-hued bronze.

Charles found the warmer air pleasant. He pictured trekking the sunlit path leading to the field where Sister Joanna cultivated her lilies. Charles wondered if she'd ever invite him to help her till the soil and plant the bulbs.

Damn, I can never get her out of my head, can I?

"What else?" Vlad examined the dainty jar full of homemade strawberry jam in his hand. "I know you've been showing considerable interest in our resident handywoman."

Charles nearly lurched forward straight into the fireplace. He stopped poking the logs and turned to his landlord. "How did you—"

"Ah, so easy to read." He pointed at Charles with a carving knife. His eyes returned to focus on his handiwork, not completely rid of their mischievous glint. "Not only do I see her with you all the time, but tongues have been wagging all over town. Rumors spread fast, you see."

Before Charles could reply, in came a snow-coated vulpine with what appeared to be a corpse in its mouth. Between its teeth was a squirrel, its fur an identical shade of white.

"Oh, no." Charles moaned quietly. "You murdered my best friend."

Vlad chuckled as the fox crept under its master's chair with no care for the grieving youth. The little devil proceeded to devour its prey with its back turned, oblivious to Charles' dismay at the loss of his companion-turned-fox-fodder.

Charles nearly forgot their previous exchange until Vlad called the young man back to attention. "So, I take it you intend to woo Sister Joanna?"

Charles gave no reply as his green eyes stared at the flickering ember.

"I don't think that's entirely right," He wiped a hand over his sunken face. "There's just...something about Sister Joanna that makes you curious about her. But she seems to be very secretive of her circumstances, and I'm not sure if tailing her around is the right thing to do."

"You're blushing," Vlad observed. "Ah, to be young and full of love."

Charles let out a sigh at his insistence.

"Well, no." Charles defended himself. "She's a charming woman, a capable one too. But I'm leaving just before the end of spring, and Sister Joanna... well, she doesn't strike me as someone interested in men or any sort of close companionship. Faust said she wasn't part of the convent, but the way she conducts herself convinces me otherwise."

"Awfully blunt, aren't you." Vlad drawled. "Well, she must have said the same."

Charles's cheeks turned beet red. He contemplated excusing himself and leaving for his room to avoid further questioning from the kibitzing innkeeper.

"But to answer your question, yes and no." Vlad set aside his handiwork as he welcomed the cold-blooded beast onto his lap. "You'd think she's the sort to devote her services in the name of God. I don't blame you. You see her praying by the statue all the time."

"But to my knowledge, nobody has ever seen her step into the church, and if Faust's words are anything to go by," He scratched the yawning animal between its ears. "She was apparently married at some point."

"Married?" Charles's shock stifled an oncoming yawn. Now, this was news. "So she has a family? Where are they now?"

Vlad's ruby-colored eyes were solemn as he watched his pet blithely gnawing his fingers.

"Who knows?" the pale-haired man murmured. "The doctor and the nuns mentioned that her husband died because of war."

A widow. Charles swallowed as he remembered their first exchange at the town square. She was praying for her own departed husband.

" But that matters little to us now, yes? You know what they say about her. Sister Joanna does what she likes " Vlad declared merrily. "If I were you, I'd respect her wishes and keep my nose out of her business too."

While freely putting your nose in mine, Charles thought. It was a shame. Although he'd suspected from the start that no woman of Sister Joanna's age and standing would deign herself to his company, a doctor from the Capital still wet behind the ears.

She must have witnessed enough of the world through that eye.

But Charles was a straightforward, insistent young man. Nothing would stop him from approaching the inscrutable dame, not as a suitor, but as a friend. Sister Joanna seemed to need one —someone other than the morose town doctor and the erratic innkeeper ex-possible fugitive.

An exhilarating warmth bloomed inside Charles's heart as he pondered on the countless outcomes his little project would bring.

"It matters very little whoever resides in her heart, husband, or God," Vlad concluded. "A woman is as good as holy by merit of her own virtue and devotion to her role."

True to Vlad and Faust's words, Charles never saw Sister Joanna within the church's halls on the rare occasion he did join the congregation.

It made Charles all the more surprised when he looked down to see her sitting in the abbey's courtyard one balmy afternoon. She was accompanied by two other people, whose faces were unfamiliar to Charles.

Their attire suggested they were aristocrats. Charles guessed the guests — a man with pearly hair and a woman with long strawberry blond waves — must have arrived from the Capital or another distant city.

Sister Joanna laughed with ease as she chatted with her companions. It sounded wonderfully pleasant and foreign to the young doctor's ears.

This is the first time I've seen her look so chipper. Charles decided to observe the trio, admiring the changes in Sister Joanna's marred features.

It took a while before the trio finally parted. Then the gentlemen shoved a rectangular object into Sister Joanna's hand, and she fell apart.

She enveloped him in a tight embrace, and the man cradled her head as she buried her face in his neck. The other woman didn't seem to be bothered. Just as gently, she approached the hugging couple and caressed Sister Joanna's mauve locks.

Charles felt indecent for spying at their affectionate display. He distanced himself from the stone balusters and went on his way. He needed to look for Doctor Faust.

Charles couldn't banish the image of Sister Joanna, smiling and weaving her fingers with the woman. How often did the nuns in this abbey see her in such a state?

Well, whatever. Charles brushed his face with the sleeves of his coat. It doesn't concern me.

Vlad's words continued to echo as Charles struggled to locate the ill-mannered doctor's whereabouts and resume his business.

They went together in early March. Charles had already been drained of his initial excitement when Sister Joanna suggested he accompany her on her annual flower painting.

He went anyway, unanswered questions and the image of Sister Joanna with the two strangers still fresh and lingering on his mind.

"Poppies? " Charles exclaimed, as Sister Joanna handed him a bag of black and brown seeds. "Not lilies?"

"I thought of doing something different this time around." She quipped. "They should yield magnificent red blossoms come August."

The couple spoke no more until midday. Sister Joanna invited Charles to sit with her under the shade of a nearby tree. They shared between them a bundle filled with sourdough bread and cheese.

"But I'm honestly surprised. I didn't think that I'd be here, planting poppies. With you, I mean," Charles spoke between bites. "I was expecting it to be lilies or roses. If you were going for red, I imagined that you'd be going for roses."

Roses fit you better nearly slipped out of Charles' mouth if not for Joanna's trenchant eye silencing him.

"No particular reason," she whispered, her gaze turning to that of the fields they had just cultivated. "But, maybe, it was our encounter at the statue that led me."

"I beg your pardon?"

Sister Joanna sighed and wiped away the beads of sweat gathering on her brow. Even as perspiration drenched her entire face, she still refused to part with the damned eyepatch.

"Red poppies are often considered a symbol of remembrance for the war dead," she began. "There are tales of blood-red flowers growing near the bodies of fallen soldiers."

A breeze tousled her chopped locks, and Charles marveled at how they shone under the sunlight trickling through the foliage.

"Even on what were once barren wastelands such as these," Charles followed her gaze, "Now they name it the Lily Hills."

How apt. "If it wasn't for your hard work planting those lilies every year, it wouldn't have reached this state. On your own, no less!"

"I'm humbled," Charles could see the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "It's the least an old woman like me can do."

"You're not that old." Charles blabbed. "Wait, are you?"

Ah, again with the inane questions. Rein it in, can't you, Charles?

But Sister Joanna merely smiled, as if it was an overzealous puppy she was dealing with and not a grown man.

"I don't believe I've ever told you," she answered wistfully. "I'm turning thirty-six this year."

Oh.

"Well," Charles hoped Sister Joanna was looking elsewhere for fear of her noticing his embarrassment. "You certainly don't look that old."

Charles prayed that the Earth would swallow him right then and there. No wonder Vlad's assuming I'm courting her. What is it about her that has me unraveled so effortlessly? She —

"I'm flattered." Her answer was curt if a bit hesitant. "Most would take me for a gnarled hag."

Charles willed the exchange to die as he diverted all his attention back to his meal. Most of their work was finished. They could return to town soon. And Charles would be allowed reprieve in the sanctuary of his room.

Sanctuary. Charles' mind flashed back to that day in the abbey, to an image of Faust, the nuns, to Sister Joanna and her elegant companions.

And then, there was the gold-plated cameo locket dangling from Sister Joanna's neck by a long chain. It made quite the sight, nestling against the fabric of Sister Joanna's sable robe.

He began noticing the locket's existence after the spectacle in the courtyard. A parting gift from her friends, perhaps?

"That's a beautiful locket. My mother sometimes wears them back at home on special occasions," Charles dared himself to ask.  "Although hers usually have profiles of beautiful ladies on them. This is the first time I've seen one adorned with a flower."

On the surface of Joanna's locket were ivory roses against an obsidian background.

"I'm not one for icons and such," She sheepishly ran a thumb over the carvings. "I thought my husband would think my preference to be nonsense, but he listened anyhow."

This is the first time I've heard Sister Joanna's mention her husband. "Not lilies?' He joked.

"My husband preferred roses. Not that I complained," Sister Joanna replied matter-of-factly. "He did as he liked."

There was not a hint of sentiment in her voice. Maybe Charles was wrong. Maybe Sister Joanna just didn't think much of her deceased husband. Charles was a fool, for thinking Sister Joanna regarded him enough as a close friend that she was willing to divulge her secrets.

"Was it given to you by your friends in the courtyard?" Charles clutched his sister's handkerchief. How the question had possessed him for so long!

Charles thought that his candidness would earn him her retaliation. Instead, Sister Joanna slumped back against the bark and closed her eye.

"So you saw me," she sighed dolefully. "They're....old friends from Belvedere. The woman was my subordinate in the Order of the Maid, and her husband was a musician I came to know in the capital. I was the one to first introduce them to each other, in fact."

"Oh, that's so sweet." Charles was reminded of how affectionate the couple was to the old widow. "Wait! Did you say the Order of the Maid? You never told me you're a Maid!"

The Order of the Maid was an all-female military unit said to have been formed during the middle ages. Its members, consisting strictly of unmarried young women, were mostly drafted from the peasantry and nobility alike. Under the aegis of the Church, it grew to nearly five thousand strong. 

Charles had listened to his mother's tales of women on stallions defending her village's borders and riding out to meet invaders sent forth by the neighboring Monarchy.

It was a shame their nation never considered letting them serve alongside the men beyond the Empire's borders. We can't have our country's most exquisite treasures meeting their early doom, Charles once heard a grizzled colonel remark.

He was the very few who wished the Emperor's appraisal towards the Order during their debut at the Capital's annual military parade was more than empty praise.

Then again...

"You seem rather excited," Charles nearly lost himself to his thoughts that he didn't realize Joanna had shuffled closer. "What of the Maids?"

Charles could feel his childhood fantasies coming to life, free of the malaise brought upon by years of warring and adulthood. "My mother adores and admires them greatly. I grew up listening to her stories about the Maids of her youth and how she wished she could join their ranks."

"I used to admire them. And I still do now," Charles beamed. "Very much so. No wonder you could carry all those boxes the first time we met. And your knowledge of weapons? That's spectacular. I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting any other woman with such skills."

"You just haven't met with enough women," she deadpanned.

Ouch. "Anyway, I'm glad I met you. I never once dreamed that I'd be talking to a Maid, in the flesh! My mother would be ecstatic. I can't wait to write to her about our encounter!"

"Fiery, aren't you." Sister Joanna huffed. "There's not much you can glean from an old maid like me."

Charles wasn't entirely sure if Sister Joanna was intending to joke or if she realized she'd made a pun at all. Either way, Charles poured himself another glass of water and downed it in one gulp.

"So, how long did you serve within the Order?"

Sister Joanna removed her gloves, revealing lithe fingers with burn scars coiling around each of them. She pocketed the gloves, and Charles couldn't decide whether it was deliberate on her part.

"For long as I can remember," she answered. "There was a time when I thought there was no more to life beyond God and the Order."

"And now?"

"I betrayed both," she ran her bare fingers down the cold comfort of her chain. "And gave in to a man and his fantastic pursuits."

Charles nodded. She doesn't sound too different from Mother.

"Was it as they say?" he went off with his curiosity. "Did they teach you to shoot guns on horseback? Did you help victims of floods and landslides? Ride with the Emperor in the Anniversary parade?"

Her eyes widened in overwhelm. "One at a time," she admonished. "I never thought you'd be this eager."

Charles settled against the bark with arms crossed behind his head. "Of course! I was in the Capital when they joined the Emperor's parade. How old was I? 12? 13?" He grinned like a schoolboy as he did that fateful morning. "I saw the Empress!”

"The Empress," Sister Joanna curled her lips, her leer indecipherable. Her strange turn in countenance subdued Charles.

Am I imagining things? “I mean, that was before she became Empress.” He smiled bashfully despite his discomfiture. “I never missed seeing her at the Parades. I believe I was 10 when I started watching her, way before she became High Commander and began riding at the front just behind the Emperor's carriage.”

"High Commander...." Sister Joanna murmured. "A sumptuous name for what is merely a decorative pawn."

"No, it isn't!" Charles whirled around to face his elder companion. Had he not realized Sister Joanna was a woman of different standing, Charles would have launched upon her and grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Whatever other people say about her, I think she's incredible! She'd been working hard to reach that position, and not a single soul can diminish that fact!"

"That so," Sister Joanna chuckled. Chuckled? "I take it you were one of the broken-hearted lads who cried upon hearing her marriage to the Emperor?"

"I didn't," Charles' flushed face burned a deeper shade of scarlet. "Okay, so I did. But I'm positive I'm not the only one!"

A satisfied smile graced Sister Joanna's lips. It was such a rare sight that Charles wished he could draw well that he could forever commit it on solid paper and not just his fleeting memory.

In that very brief moment, Charles could see the traces of Sister Joanna's younger self, a gallant soldier in the Maids' sleek white uniform, to be yet unsullied by the corrupted realities of the Empire.

Maybe she wasn't too far off about the horrors of leaving the Order and getting married. Ordinary life isn't as peachy compared to their glittering adventure-filled lives, come to think of it.

But neither is facing real battles and not knowing when or where you're going to die. These women DID face enemies even from a very young age.

Sister Joanna gingerly patted a cloth against her damp forehead.  “The Empress,” she repeated. "She turned into quite the monster didn't she?"

[for-ests]

Tom x reader with Tom finding out that reader’s been seeing the doctor recently and ultimately thinks she’s pregnant, plans a huge party but when reader finds out what the party’s for, she breaks down in tears and reveals she found out she can’t have children. I’m gonna need some tissues for this 😭

Word count: 2, 120

Warnings: some angst, some fluff 

Thanks for requesting! And sorry for replying so late, I wasn’t sure how to write this :// I hope you like it!

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

With a surprised expression appearing on his face, Tom studied the doctor’s admittance note that you had placed on the bedside table.

Was he supposed to be reading this?

He assumed it wouldn’t be a problem since you were registered under the same insurance. It was just a scheduled doctor's appointment, which you had told him about yesterday.

That’s what he thought until his eyes scanned over the word fertility.

So you had gone in for a pregnancy test.

With his heart beating faster, Tom studied the rest of the outpatient form. There weren't any statements about if you were pregnant, only that you had been checked up on.

Tom scowled, setting the piece of paper back on the table. The two of you had married over a year ago, and had been trying ever since then, yet you were still not pregnant. You got your period every month much to his and your dismay.

But that was when he realized that you hadn’t spoken about your period this month. He immediately smiled, hoping you were finally pregnant after all this time. He was sure that you would have mentioned something so important... unless you were planning on surprising him.

That had to be the reason. And after debating for a few more minutes, Tom decided to call his best friend Harrison, who was also the best man at your wedding.

“Mate… I think Y/N’s finally pregnant.”

“Really?” He sounded equally excited. “How do you know?”

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck with uncertainty. He wanted a child with you more than anything. This would be wonderful news, and he really wanted it to be true. “I don’t have the pregnancy test or anything, but it looks like she’s missed her period, and she got a pregnancy test at the hospital yesterday.”

Just to be sure, Tom picked the outpatient form back up to study its contents.

“That seems promising.” Harrison agreed. “I feel like she would have told you right away if she wasn’t pregnant.”

“That’s what I thought.” Tom chuckled. “I think she’s planning on surprising me, but I kind of want to turn it around on her and through a party for her.”

With a genuine, kind smile spreading across his face, Tom began to picture the future you could have together with another member in your family. 

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

But the reality you had to face was much more heartbreaking. Unbeknownst to your husband, your doctor’s appointment was to relay some devastating news. A fact that immediately brought tears to your eyes, news that you didn’t want to comprehend.

You couldn't have children. You were infertile.

Out of everyone, why did it have to be you? Especially when you wanted a child more than anything. Especially you, a woman that had too many people to please.

Who could you even talk to this about? You didn’t want to break the news to Tom… You couldn’t talk to your mother, whose only wish from you was to have grandchildren she could take care of.

Trying to keep yourself together for your poor doctor, you sighed deeply and wiped your tears away. If there was nothing you could do to fix it, you were going to grieve that possibility and move on.

“Adoption is always an option.” Your doctor handed you a pamphlet, resting her hand gently on your shoulder. You nodded, sniffling and trying your best to meet her gaze. She probably dealt with this often. “Don’t be hard on yourself. This is a natural phenomenon. Sometimes it just happens and there wasn’t anything you could do to prevent it.”

Nodding again, you gathered the other printouts and materials she had provided for you. “Don’t wait too long to break the news. Hiding it won’t change the truth. But with every woman it is always a possibility, your husband will understand. It could have just as easily been him.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, thankful for her advice. Sometimes all you needed was a reminder that you weren’t alone.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N.” Your doctor looked just as sad as you, though she was better at hiding it. She left the room as you finished slipping into your jacket, leaving you alone to gather yourself and your spiraling thoughts.

For a moment, all you could do was sit there, trying to soak up the information as best as you could. How do you tell him? How would he react?

You took a deep breath and gathered your composure. You could deal with this later. Maybe on the weekend when you had time to relax and process everything. But right now, you had to go straight to work.

It was only Tuesday.

❀∙∘✿∘∙❀

It was only Wednesday. It was one of the hardest days of your life, forcing yourself to pretend that everything was okay. You still felt guilty that you had cuddled with Tom all night without telling him the truth. 

All day, a permanent scowl was engraved upon your face. 

For the last twenty-four hours, all you could think about was your doctor’s appointment, and what your doctor had told you. Even as you slaved away at your desk, in the back of your mind, the sadness loomed. You finished all your required work, but it was half-assed. You couldn’t focus.

You were incredibly relieved to head back home and collapse on your bed. Normally, you wouldn’t crave release so badly- but your revelation had been concealed. You still hadn’t told anyone, and that was because the news refused to sink in.

Needing to tell someone about your misfortune, you were about to burst. Especially since you were keeping such vital information from your husband.

It was killing you.

Sighing deeply, you climbed the steps to your shared flat. All you wanted to do was sleep away your problems.

But sleep didn’t come swiftly like you had planned. Your husband had planned something much more extravagant.

As soon as he sees my face face, he’ll know something is wrong. You thought, regretfully rummaging through your purse to grab your key.

But then, you heard commotion behind the door, causing you to lift your head. Thinking you heard the rustling of more than one person, you slowly turned the key. The pepper spray in your purse was just a movement away.

But what you opened the door to find was much, much worse. You would have preferred to call the police then have to face every single person that you loved.

Smiling right back at you.

“Congratulations!” They all screamed.

You saw balloons, presents, and food- filling up every surface in the apartment. Your friends were clapping and shouting until they all finally turned to glimpse the look of horror that was staring back at them.

You didn’t need a sign to analyze the reason they were there.

Who had misinformed them?

Feeling as if you were suffocating, your eyes scanned the living room. Your eyes met Tom’s, and once he realized the panic in your gaze, his smile fell.

Tom approached you. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I-“ you exhaled shakily. He gripped your hand for reassurance.

Silence consumed the apartment. Worried looks took the place of gleeful ones.

You felt sick to your stomach, glancing around at everyone’s confused expressions, all for you and Tom’s future family. It was all you could have ever wanted, all you could ever possibly need. Except for the fact that you were infertile.

How did Tom figure out?

“Tom...” you said softly. The tone in your voice indicated something heartbreaking was about to be admitted.

Despite that, his hand tightened around yours.

“Everyone...” you looked around shyly, trying to meet as many eyes as possible to relay such detrimental news.

The atmosphere shifted at the sight of your crestfallen expression.

“I’m not pregnant.” You shifted awkwardly on your feet.

“Oh.” Tom chuckled to release some tension. “I guess I misread the form, then.”

“Of course you would.” Zendaya teased, and you turned to find her gentle smile. Despite the party being for a reason that wasn’t happening, nobody seemed annoyed or upset at the fact.

Your mother stepped forward, out of the kitchen. You smelled her cooking and it made you feel secure. “Honey, you don’t need to look so upset. We’re happy to be here anyway.”

“Mom-” Your lip quivered. Why couldn’t you just be pregnant? Why did you have to let everyone down like this?

Knowing you were on the verge of some strange mental breakdown, your mother set a comforting hand on your back. She traced gentle, soothing circles with the palm of her hand like she used to when you were a child.

You felt small, but somehow you still felt loved.

“I guess I should just get it out now.” You took a deep breath, meeting Tom’s eyes. One look and he seemed to understand why you were still distressed. You normally thrived in social situations. It was odd to see you so flustered and upset.

“It’s okay.” Tom whispered. He didn’t need to say it. You could tell them anything.

Your shoulders somewhat relaxed, and your heartbeat slowed to normal. It somehow felt refreshing to let go of the weight of this secret. Something that shouldn’t have been kept a secret in the first place.

“It’s worse than that, I can’t get pregnant.” Despite being relaxed, you still couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes, even though you felt them all on you.

You desperately wanted someone to say something. You wanted the disappointed silence to go away, but you knew your confession was much more complicated than that.

Finally gaining the courage to meet his eyes, you found him staring right back at you.

“Say something.” You pleaded under your breath, so softly that only he could hear.

What if he couldn’t love you the same? Now that you couldn’t give him children…

He could have any woman he wanted.

“That’s okay.” He promised. “Since it’s been so long, I assumed it was one of us.”

At those words, you managed to laugh. Even though tears were now streaming down your face, you could tell he was trying to keep it together in front of everyone. You should do the same.

Tom reached forward and embraced you tightly. Guilt was evident in your words, tone, and expression. Your husband couldn’t stand to see you so distraught, especially since he was the one who had put you in such a stressful situation.

“I love you no matter what.” He whispered in your ear, petting down the strands of hair that threatened to poke your tear filled eyes.

Gripping onto him tightly, you exhaled. “I love you too.”

That was all you needed to hear from him to know everything would be okay. It might not be the same moving forward, but it would be okay.

“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot, darling.” He kissed the top of your forehead as he pulled away, facing everyone that had fallen silent, unsure of what to say or do.

“I guess I should apologize to everyone.” Tom awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, still managing to look his friends and family directly in the eyes. You were far too embarrassed to follow suit. “I know you all took time out of your day to come celebrate something that’s not going to happen.”

“Ohhh,” Your best friend rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dramatic now. It's not a big deal.”

You laughed through your nose, nodding at her in appreciation. You noticed that all of your closest friends had gathered in the corner with the booze. Somehow, it comforted you to see them so relaxed despite the disappointing news.

There would still be a party, and soon everyone would forget about it. All you needed was a couple of drinks and an engaging conversation. The seriousness of your situation could be discussed another night.

There was no rush to find another path.

“I think your love is enough to celebrate.” Tom’s mother raised her glass, looking directly into your eyes as she spoke.

“I agree with that.” Your own mother smiled. “A party is still a party!”

And with that, the mood shifted into something much more optimistic. Though the reason behind the gathering had been spoiled, you and your husband had surrounded yourself with a great circle of people, who were there to support you through any decision you would make.

And in the end, that was all you could ever ask for. Whether you were able to have children or not, you would never be alone.

[cinnbar-bun]

Undead Chaos (Vampire!Beelzebub x Reader)

Vampire! Au

Summary: Beelzebub had escaped from Pandemonium, but found that he can’t properly sustain himself as he once could in the dark hellhole. Needing a new way to continue existing with his new powers, he decides to test some theories. How unfortunate you were one of the pests he decided to choose. 

Warning: Contains possible spoilers, as well as lots of things based off on theories since cygames never really talked about Bubs did. Possible triggering content such as kidnapping and stalking. Please take caution before reading. Slightly spicy stuff happens. Reader is also GN

Note: this is a short one tbh. It’s not much. It’s not that romantic. It’s just you for you bubs fans who get off to being called worthless humans. I respect your dedication.

He licked his lips as he peered out of the dark alleyway. His red eyes flickered from person to person. Unlike a certain fallen angel, he knew to stay hidden. He hated to admit it, but he wasn’t at full strength yet. He had much to do before he could fully showcase himself as king to these worthless insects. 

A young woman. Cute, he supposed. However, he stopped when he saw she embraced a young man and laughed with him. They were together, he assumed. She was not an optimal victim. 

A large man. He was bulky and ripped, and Beelzebub wondered just how much blood was in his body. If he could just- 

He spat. He was losing control. He needed relief soon. The man was carrying a young kid on his shoulders and Beelzebub felt himself growing more faint and impatient. 

There had to be someone. 

Someone alone. 

Someone who others wouldn’t notice would be missing. He bit his nail and watched as a person he hadn’t seen before in his stay on this island. They did not talk to anyone. They did not do anything but walk quietly, a bouquet of flowers in their hands. 

No one said anything to this person. Their eyes were sullen and they looked as if they had not slept in days. It wasn’t the most ripe of meals, but he supposed it was better than nothing. He smirked and slunk back into the alley, following them in the deeper parts of the island until they made their way to a graveyard. 

Ah... so they are grieving a lost relative. 

He refrained from laughing at how pathetic they were. How unlucky they were to look so helpless in front of him at such a time. 

Truly, they were the most cursed being here to be seen like this when he was starving. 

He scoured the entrance to the graveyard. No one else seemed to be there, minus his next victim. They walked far into it, so he followed behind closely, careful to not make a sound and reveal his presence. 

At last, they stopped in front of two graves, placing the flowers in the middle of them. 

He was too far away to read the names on the graves, and he wondered about their relationship to his meal. 

“Father, mother...I am here.” They quietly spoke, their voice rasping, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. 

Their parents. He mused. He inched closer. 

“I...I uh...I brought your favorite flowers. I know you two liked when I grew them.” 

Pointless. They die anyways. Humans waste time on the dumbest tasks. 

“Ah...how long has it been since you two have been gone? I kinda lost track of time.” 

He could smell them now. 

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I forget to take care of myself. I can hardly eat or sleep.” 

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I...I wish I was taken too...I can’t handle this loneliness...”

Closer, closer, closer. 

“I hate existing! It’s unfair! I hate this!” They cried. He couldn’t control his ragged breaths. The crying, the screaming, the hunger. It all blended in his mind until he leaned over and extended his claws towards them. 

I’ll eat you alive, pathetic human. 

With a simple swipe he had covered the mouth of his victim and watched as they struggled helplessly in his arms. 

“Sh. You said you wanted to cease existing. Allow me to grant you your wish.” He smirked as they looked at him with fearful eyes. It only spurred him on further. They were shaking, frozen as he revealed his fangs at them. “I like when my meals are afraid. I think you’ll taste good enough.” 

Their face paled before they passed out in his arms. 

“Tch.” He sneered. “Pathetic.”

He leaned down and examined their neck, feeling the hunger in him rise to its peak as he barred his fangs to finally get the chance for a meal. As his fangs grazed the surface of their skin, he smelled another presence nearby.

“Hey! What are you doing?” A man yelled. Beelzebub glared and quickly huddled the person under his cape, before he dramatically swiped it and used his magic to teleport.

It would drain a lot, but since he had a guaranteed meal, it wasn’t so bad. He couldn’t risk causing much of a scene yet with the village. He needed to lay low.

The figure in his arms was still passed out, sleeping peacefully as he eyed their face. They were tired, and if what they said was true, they hadn’t done much to care for themselves.

As much as he hated doing so, he was going to have to freshen his meal up.

~

You awoke in a dark and musty room, one that smelled of mold and rotting wood. You coughed at the dust surrounding you as you attempted to look at where you were.

This wasn’t home. In fact, what happened before you-

Before you could think about your day, you stared back into glowing red eyes. Those eyes... those were the last things you remember seeing before you passed out.

Your heart raced as you backed up to the furthest corner of the bed.

“S-stand back! Stay back! Don’t touch me!” You yelled.

He let out a sound of disgust and stepped closer.

“Don’t be full of yourself. I’m not here to touch a worthless roach like you right now.” He snapped. “Know your place, mortal.”

“M-mortal? What do you mean?”

“Do you not have a brain? It means you are beneath me.” He replied sharply. He tossed an apple at you. “Go. Eat.”

“W-what, I-“

“I said eat.” You nervously took a bite of the apple and he watched you with an intense frown.

You awkwardly chewed the fruit and tried to eat it as fast as you could for fear of how he’d react. He tapped his foot impatiently and watched you, and you felt yourself shaking under his gaze.

You finished the apple and within an instant he slammed a glass of water in front of you.

“Drink. I need you to be hydrated.” Due to the anxiety and nervousness, you chugged the class of water. Despite the situation you were in, you exhaled in relief as your body felt rejuvenated.

“Thank you.” You quietly said.

“Should you really be thanking me?” He sneered. “I’m not doing this out of kindness.”

You knew that. And yet, despite all that, you couldn’t care.

“So, are you gonna kill me now?” You said.

“So ready to die? Do you accept your fate so easily.”

“It’s just like you said earlier. I can’t fight you. I can’t possibly escape from you.”

“You’re not gonna even struggle?” He chuckled. “Giving is so easily?”

“I guess.” You sighed.

“Enough chatter. I’ve wasted enough time.” He said.

“What are you-“

You couldn’t speak before he quickly pinned you down with one hand, and the reality of it all rushed over you. He bared his fangs at you, the sharp canines glistening and his mouth practically drooling.

You knew what you said before.

But why did you suddenly care now?

You bit your lip and whimpered pathetically as he grinned maniacally at your now panicked expression.

“Do you now understand the situation you’re in? Do you truly get what I’m about to do to you?” He cackled.

“W-Wait-“

“I’ve waited long enough.”

“But! Wait! Why me?” You yelled. At the very least, if you were to die here and now, you would at least know why you were the one chosen.

“‘Why me’, you ask? Why you? Easy. Because you’re nobody.” His words cut deep into you like a knife. “You’re a nobody. You have no one. You’re pathetic, you’re all alone and no one cares for your existence.”

“But I know someone will! Someone will-“

“Who’s going to come for you? You were practically catatonic before I decided to take you. Do you think a waste of life like that is useful? Do you think you’re special? Do you think you offered me something of value besides being my next meal? Don’t think too highly of yourself, fool. You are nothing more than a blood bag. You are nothing to me.” He stated.

You could only stare back at him. What was there to say? He was right. You weren’t special. Moments ago you had professed you didn’t care about your own life. You closed your eyes and leaned your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck.

“Oh? What’s this? Have you already lost your will to live?”

“No. I’m afraid. I’m... really afraid. So I... I wanna offer you a deal.”

“A deal? Do you really think now you should be bargaining?”

“I got nothing else to lose.”

“Hmph, go on.” He raised an eyebrow. “You have a few moments.”

“How many other people have you done this to?”

“You’re supposed to make a deal, not ask a question.”

“I want to know.”

“Fine. I can entertain your dumb thoughts for a bit. I have done this to about... seven other people.”

“And what happened to them all?”

“I drained them of life. They’re all dead, probably feeding the termites below.”

“Then allow me to remain as your sole blood donor.”

“And why should I agree to that? What makes you so special that I should keep you alive?”

“People are going to get suspicious after a while. You killed seven people already. And I’ll be a constant meal for you, so you have me whenever you wish. It should be simple for you to get.” You don’t know where that last sentence came from, but you were determined to not roll over and die.

“Hmph. And you’re willing to remain here on the offhand chance I don’t drain you?” He asked.

“Yes. And I don’t care what you think of me. I don’t wanna die by your hands like this so... I’ll do what it takes to live.” You stated. The newfound acceptance for life made you want to clench to that feeling forever. “So, do you accept my deal? You don’t kill me, and I’ll stay here for you to feed on.”

He hated the fact you were right. It was an obvious choice, really. He couldn’t continue snatching more people up. Having a constant supply versus hunting at the last minute would perhaps heal him faster. He pursed his lips.

“Fine. But don’t think I’ll go gentle on you.” He leaned down and you felt him press his fangs into the flesh of your neck. The teeth broke your skin, and you covered your mouth with your hands to refrain from crying in pain.

He hissed as he tasted the blood from the wound he punctured on you. It’s been so long. And he was so damn hungry.

He placed his lips around the mark and sucked the blood inside. You bit your lip at the odd sensation. The pain had melted away and was quickly replaced with a euphoric pleasure, one that you were incapable of describing.

You’ve never felt this relieved, scared, enthusiastic, and excited as you did now. All your emotions swirled in you as he continued to lap at your blood with his tongue. You couldn’t think straight, merely acknowledging the feeling of him on top of you and the desire for more.

More of what? You couldn’t tell. Only that you wanted more of this euphoria, this pleasure, and this feeling that was so much more special than anything you had ever experienced in your entire life.

You dug your nails into his shoulder blades, and he didn’t seem to feel it as he continued drinking from you.

“Please-“ you struggled out. Your breath was uneven as you threw your head back, giving him more space for him to access.

“Shh... you make too much noise...” he mumbled before he continued.

It was quiet, all except for your ragged breaths and the sound of his mouth on your neck. You felt the high of this new feeling before he pulled back and left you struggling to catch your breath on the mattress. You almost missed when he was sucking your blood, funnily enough.

Beelzebub seemed to have a hard containing himself too, given his heavy breathing as he wiped his mouth of whatever excess blood there was.

“Is that... what it’s supposed to feel like?” You stammered.

“Apparently so. My victims had all responded positively to the bite. I guess it has a sort of euphoric reaction to you humans. I should test that more with you soon.”

You nodded yet flustered at how embarrassing that was. This man kidnapped you yet you were lying helplessly asking, begging, craving more.

Foolish. This was absolutely foolish.

You placed a hand where he bit you and winced at the slight burn you felt. It would probably take a while to heal.

“Now, mortal-“

“I have a name.” You cut him off. He glared.

“Don’t get cocky with me. You’re lucky I spared your life.”

“I’m just saying, since we’re gonna do this for a while, the least you could do is call me by my name.”

“Insolent... then what is your name?”

“It’s (Y/n). And what is yours?”

“Beelzebub. Beelzebub of the Astral High Council.” He stated.

“Huh? An astral? I thought you guys were gone...” your eyes widened in shock.

“Did you really think you pathetic humans could rid of us so easily? How amusing.”

He stood up and walked over to the door, his massive back facing you as he paused when he gripped the handle.

“Night is upon us. Rest now. I will have you in the morning before I sleep. You are not allowed to leave unless you have my express permission. And if you dare reveal the truth about me or our deal, I will kill you and everyone else on this pathetic island. Don’t test me. I don’t have the patience to deal with a good-for-nothing pest.” He threatened. He opened the door and slammed it behind him as he walked away.

You processed his words and were reminded that once again, you were not in your old home. This was your new home, one where you would be under his command. You feared the future, yet strangely were looking forward to a visit from him. Perhaps your once dreadful life could have some use and purpose again.

The thought relaxed you as you closed your eyes and huddled closer to yourself in the bed. Whatever you were getting into, it wasn’t going to be easy.

[comic-brew]

Anemos

Summary: Grief is like a toxin, invading your every pore and spreading like the plague, leaving behind nothing but a jade black painted husk. Hollowed out, resembling more of a dead shell than a man.

Notes: Another last minute @jaytemisweek2020 fic! I really am incorrigible. Song: Anemos by Katherine Duska and Leon of Athens. I'm sorry in advance

Reading time: 18 mins (2.2k words)

Warnings: dealing with grief, fake character death, angst angst angst

Or read here on ao3!

***

Hurried wind, blowing forth

"Hey, Princess... It's Jason."

The phone had already started recording, the whooshing sound of passing vehicles was simply a miserable undercurrent to his already bitter voice.

He looked around at the city's skyline. It seemed so familiar from his spot on the rooftop, yet the empty, discarded bottles of scotch in the far back reminded him just how bloody different everything was. How it would never be the same.

"Well uh.."

He trailed off, coughing dryly and staring at the seconds passing on the screen. He scrambled to find the right words. He had so much to say -too much- so he might as well end up saying nothing. It didn't matter anyway.

"It's Wednesday today. We… we had plans for this morning. We were gonna grab breakfast at that terrible diner that you somehow like so much. Shaw's."

He chuckled bitterly.

"I seriously don't know why you like that crap. I'd rather eat Dick's cooking than go there again, and that should be saying something. Although-"

His eyes glistened under the moonlight, tears fighting to be spilt out of their glacial blue. Jason tried to swallow back the lump in his throat. He had to do this.

"I would relieve Quraq all over again if it meant getting to be dragged there -or anywhere- by you again- I-"

His voice broke, bent like a flower's rachis crunched beneath a boot. Jason finally gave way to the tears, flowing in beads across his cheeks. He put the phone down for a second, to brush away the salty waterfalls.

Hurried wind, he whispered to me: 'stay

"You know what? This is stupid"

A small scoff evaded his lips. A little insane. Perhaps a bit more of a sniffle as his kevlar enhanced shoulders drooped even further down.

He sat back down on the cement. Plopped the phone down on the ground next to his helmet, his forehead burrowed in his hands. Perhaps to hide the pain, to keep it locked inside. Trying to hold the weight of his head so that his neck wouldn't have to. It felt so heavy. Everything was heavy and fuzzy, thick and inky like a bog eager to consume him.

There was no bog, of that he was sure. So.. that left only the gaping hole in his chest.

Yeah, that should be it.

Dark matter was devouring him, sucking him from the inside, to make up for the absence of a heart beneath his ribcage.

I'm becoming one with the wind now

Lifting his head up from his gloved palms, he rested his fingers on his chin. Limbs huddled closely together, in a small bundle of 6 foot tall boy. A small bundle screaming in despair, even without the air tingling at his vocal chords. His every cell was radiating anguish, Jason could almost reimagine the bleak stench of death encompassing his meager existence.

He drew in a deep shaky breath, shuddering at the sudden chill blowing against his body. He kept shivering even after the soft gust had dissipated.

Blow forth with the wind, a kiss piercing me like a bullet in the middle of the night

The sharp 'ping' indicating the halt in the recording was almost lost amidst the cacophony of horns and shouts rebounding from the city streets. Gotham highway was hazardous on normal days. Only a more terrible place for grieving souls, even above it and by the familiar coldness of a gargoyle made of stone.

Jason would push this all aside and bury the pain deep down, he really would. But he didn't- he didn't get to say goodbye. His eyes welled up once more as he gazed solemnly down at the passerbys, going about their lives while his felt almost frozen in time.

Seconds weren't ticking anymore when the clock on his phone was pointing at midnight all of a sudden. Tears had been closely followed by sobs as he gulped down the last drop of liquid numbness.

It didn't numb the pain nearly enough.

At the final hitch of his breath, Jaso let his feet dangle from the edge of the rooftop as he was picking up the bloody device with Artemis' name and smile displayed, captured for eternity in an almost mundane moment of joy that he recalled being so heavenly.

It was at the beach. He remembers the feel of sand and wet hair between his fingers, remembers the soft crashing of the cerulean waves and how those same waves felt against his bare skin, and how his skin felt encompassed in her warmth.

Take me far away from here, you're the only one dressing me in light amidst the darkness

Jason remembers the tender whispers of nothings that held more value than all the knowledge in the universe. Those everythings now were truly nothing, if not for sharpened blades slashing deep into his skin. The faint aftertaste of salty lips and a smile so lovely in his eyes it could outbrighten the midday sun, now simply reduced to the shine of a katana embedded in his chest.

Twisting.

God… Why does it hurt so much?

He started another recording. The words kept nagging at his brain, they needed to be let out lest they ate away chunks of his soul. His soul that had already been split in half, drowned out in the haziness of regret and guilt.

His hand shot up to wipe at the tears but they were already dried roads carved into his flesh.

Grief is like a toxin, invading your every pore and spreading like the plague, leaving behind nothing but a jade black painted husk. Hollowed out, resembling more of a dead shell than a man.

I'm becoming one with the wind now

"It's me again. One more and I'll let you rest" he paused. "I promise"

Taking a deep ragged breath, searching his mind for any and every final bit of strength and courage, he continued.

"I-I love you, princess. I love you so damn much"

He sighed.

"I should have said it sooner, but my fucking trust issues… I just- I just thought we had more time"

This time when his eyes flooded he let the tears flow freely. There was nobody there to see them, nobody there to ask.

Nobody

My dream, my secret, sink me deep into the wind

"And it fucking hurts that you're gone, you can't even begin to imagine just how much... I don't- I don't think that much pain is able to be measured. Every time I even think of you my heart is just.. shattered -no- shredded into a million pieces I know I'll never be able to put back together"

If he was gonna do this, he was gonna do it right. No holding back on his emotions, no use trying to conceal the aching claw impaling his heart, stopping it from thumping in the right rythm. Broken, every attempt at pulsing was as good as a heaving sob of loneliness.

Broken..

"A thing that breaks is never the same, huh?"

The words were said in a somewhat joking manner but his lips hadn't got the energy nor will to twitch into a smile. His muscles felt like marble, securely tight into place no matter how much his brain ordered them to unclench. The pain tugged at his soul, wanting to pull him down, down below and sink him right through the murky depths of its abyss, until pain was all he could sense.

>I want the pain in my eyes, the ashes, the fire

The pain was close- he was already starting to asphyxiate, he wasn't prepared to hold his breath when his head was pushed underwater.

"And Biz.. he misses you a lot too. He's obliterated, and that's putting it mildly"

His voice was rasped and broken when he next spoke, the ever growing lump had almost clogged his throat.

"Please come back"

It was merely a whisper, the exhale of his final breath of hope assuming a material from. The desperate last stand of a wildflower against the harsh cold of winter. Jason closed his eyes, shutting out the harpies' eerie songs reminding him that she's truly gone, drifted away with a wind that never quite got to caress his skin.

I'm not afraid, you're here now

Next thing Jason knew was he'd been yelling, shouting loudly for the words to beat the lump and the anxiety. The air rising up his throat clawed against his trachea but he didn't care as long as his feelings weren't lost with the breeze. Even if the person they were aimed at never got to receive them.

His passion finally died out, turned to ashes smoldering miserably beneath his scarred flesh. Who would know when he saw him, that the most painful of his scars was the one nobody could ever trace with the pads of their fingers.

I want to last another breath in the deep

The sorrow was starting to become unbearable as that wonderfully radiant smile disappeared from the screen, belonging to a different lifetime. One that ended when the spark of fire wavered in her emerald eyes, much alike the fainting last flame on the wick of a candle.

With frantic movements he fumbled to whip out his pack of cigars and lighter. He held them in front of his chest, staring holes in the nicotine filled package, guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. Artemis never wanted him to smoke and continue ruining his lungs, she didn't want him to let the it slowly chip away at his health. He hadn't felt the mellow sensation of his worries evaporating and blending in with the smoke in months. She was all he had needed to feel whole.

I'm not afraid, you're here now

The guilt was drowned and lost beneath the pain as Jason placed the cigarette between his lips and set it aflame.

Artemis wasn't there anymore to care.

***

"Just- I know it's hopeless, but if it happened to me, then why do the people I love keep dying?"

Even the mechanical sound of the recording couldn't dim the pain that laced Jason's voice, bitter like a bird that broke its wings.

She let a stray sniffle escape her.

"First Roy, now y-you.. Is this some short of sick joke, universe?! Alright, Jason, you come back, so you can get attached to people and witness everything fall apart so you can feel it. Yeah, the irony wouldn't have worked if I hadn't died, right?!"

The pointy lines of the recording ascended, indicating the increase in volume. Still, there was no way to show the despair with which he clung to the rage.

She pushed back the tears.

"Oh, Arty…"

He was crying.

The tears fought harder to be freed, somehow proving to be even stronger than an Amazon.

I want to run, to leave, go to the open sea

"I have no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do!" the voice uttered. That deep timbre that could soothe and comfort her in a heartbeat was reaching her thorn studded, tying her insides in a knot.

She started weeping quietly. A duet for two broken hearts.

There was a big pause in the sound, yet the needle kept running to reach the end of the voicemail, she was beginning to fear that tinted in pure anguish would be his last word she'd cherish in her memory.

A snort interrupted her abrupt panic. She wiped at the tears as she let old memories be carved into her brain.

I want to touch the sun before I fade in the dark

"Look at me. I'm ranting in a voicemail meant for you. I must be fucking delusional but... I still- I still believe you'll hear all of this someday.."

Her chest heaved with increasing difficulty as the guilt gradually consumed her. He was mourning the loss of her, oblivious to the fact that her heart was still beating, and aching with every poisoned word.

He was going to hate her, but she preferred the man she loved to be able to loathe her, than to take this futile love to his grave.

I'm becoming one with the wind now

She would protect her little one, no matter the cost doing so already relayed upon her heart.

"Well I.." he begun, clearing his throat. "I guess this is goodbye" he said softly, cautiously, and the message ended with a pained 'I love you'.

Artemis murmured back a goodbye. Her breath caught on her throat, she had to exert herself to convince her lungs to draw another sharp intake of air.

She stared at Jason's contact before she'd have to dispose of her phone and everything that bound her to her previous life. She gave the picture of the man a tight lipped smile, tears running down her skin as she muttered an 'I'm sorry'.

I'm not afraid, you're here now

A finger hovered above a tear tainted delete button as wreaked sobs echoed throughout the dark room. The dark room where the shadows danced a walz of death and chaos, giggling under the starlight pouring in from the only window.

Someday.. Perhaps someday she could see her love again.

The finger came down and the shadows danced no more.

I'm becoming one with the wind.

[overplannedbutunnamednpc]

Ecstasy: 4, 31 Legacy: 13, 22 Zephyr: 19, 26!

Ecstasy

4. Things you said instead of “I love you”

“Where’re you getting off to so quickly, darling?”

It wasn’t as if Raini had never stayed the night before. Rather, Ecstasy was hoping that it had become something of a routine. Or if it wasn’t, Ecstasy was big enough to admit that she certainly wanted it to be. Not even for the reason of morning sex - though she did have to admit that there is something very gratifying about how good a mood Raini’s in one hour after waking versus one minute after waking.

“Motherfuckers,” comes the reply, which isn’t actually very surprising.

Ecstasy lies back down, her interest in waking up waning now that she’s got no real reason to stay in bed. “What do they have you doing, then, angel?”

Raini waves her hand vaguely. “The usual. Danger for the reason of doing good.”

“Mm. Classified, huh?” Ecstasy opens her eyes to watch Raini getting dressed, and finds herself sitting up. There’s a scar on her back, angry red, the kind of thing that healing magic was only able to patch up superficially, relying on Raini’s body to do the rest of the work while it went on its merry way to help out with the other deep cuts and breaks that would also have been life-threatening.

She finds herself reaching out to touch it, only interrupted by the curtain of fabric as Raini tugs her robes over her head. Ecstasy blinks, the image of the scar curdling her good humor as Raini pops the cork on the healing potion Ecstasy has so kindly left out on the vanity, Raini taking a few sips every time she comes over to clear away the hickies Ecstasy leaves every time. She imagines that it clears some of the redness of the scar, as well, but finds that her mood is still sour about the whole thing.

Regardless, Raini is responding, in the infuriatingly blasé way that Raini can respond when something either matters a lot or not at all. “And dangerous. I’d never bring you into it. Safer that way, etcetera. Plus Lent would hate it if you interfered.”

Ecstasy has to remind herself not to pout about this. Something about “danger” and “Raini” going together has started to ruffle her feathers, and seeing the physical evidence of that when Raini was meant to be staying way back and being protected by her party -

Well. Anyway.

“You wound me, princess,” Ecstasy says, and lets Raini get her put-upon sigh out of the way before continuing, “Sure you can’t be a few minutes - well, maybe a few hours late?”

She watches Raini turn around, probably intending to give a very clear negative, but then again, Ecstasy cuts a pretty nice figure sprawled across the bed, naked with her tail flicking in something Raini doesn’t have to know is frustration at the ‘danger’ part of this situation. So as soon as there’s a flicker of considering on the wizard’s face, Ecstasy pounces.

“C’mon, cupcake. I’ll be gentle with you.”

And it gets her a scoff and an eye roll, of course.

But it also gets her a kiss before she makes her way out.

31. Things you said that you wouldn’t have if it were light out

It’s absolutely on Ecstasy, the fact that Raini’s sound asleep and she’s not. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be, it’s just that she’d gone out to piss after everything and Raini had fallen fast asleep in the two or three minutes she’d been gone.

Ecstasy unwraps the robe she’d donned to keep the crew from being alternatively intrigued or affronted by her naked body, thanks her lucky stars that she has hooves and doesn’t have to worry about putting on and taking off her boots for a trek like that, and, however illogically, doesn’t lay down yet. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed, the slight movement making Raini stir but not bother waking up yet, and she cocks her head down at the wizard.

“Angel,” she tries, wondering.

Raini barely reacts. Hm.

Ecstasy’s already put out her lamp, so her wizard’s face is all shades of gray with her darkvision. Still, she can imagine every color that lights itself on Raini’s face usually - the pink of her cheeks, the gray-blue of her eyes, the slight glow of the arcane sometimes buzzing around her. It’s probably good that it’s dark, though, because Ecstasy doesn’t think she’d be doing this if it wasn’t.

Not sure what “this” is, exactly, but it culminates in her brushing Raini’s hair back, shushing the discontented mutter it gets her, and pulling the sheet up over her bare shoulder.

Hm.

Ecstasy rolls her eyes at herself and crosses back over to her side of the bed, pulling the sheets down and joining Raini, slotting her body against Raini’s back. Raini’s pulled herself into a ball, but she’s still expressed that she likes Ecstasy’s warmth (“So you really like how hot I am, huh?” “Would you shut up?”) so, spooning it is.

Ecstasy, even as she makes fun of herself for doing so, moves Raini’s hair out of the way and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Sweet dreams, firefly,” she says, relishing in the lack of a response. That’s better, for her. “See you in the morning.”

And then she settles in to sleep, herself.

Legacy

13. Things you said that were important to you

It’s kind of more what she doesn’t say. The conversation is already moving on without them, but Legacy is caught, just a bit, in Frey’s gaze.

She has the sudden feeling that Frey Holt is the kind of good that makes just about everyone figure out just how bad they are.

It twists something in her stomach, and Legacy’s lips press together when Frey tells her, “Kindness is free, even to people it’s easy to be unkind to.”

GD and their new friends are talking about dinner, so Legacy doesn’t say, “Kindness is never free. Especially not to people who are unkind to you. It’s not even free to people who are.”

She doubts that Frey would agree with her, first and foremost, and more than that she doesn’t know what, exactly, her argument would be. Coming from Legacy, the argument would be rich - hypocritical, considering she’s spent part of her life lying to strangers for money. But it isn’t free. If Legacy were more inclined to be shitty towards Frey she’d probably give a jab about how Frey doesn’t even know how banks work, how should she know what’s free and what’s not?

Frey’s kindness isn’t free. She can’t really think it is. Frey’s kindness, at least the kindness that Legacy’s seen, is turning herself into the smallest dog possible because GD is scared of her, even when it’s obvious how much she likes being large and wolfish and wild. Frey’s kindness is hurricanes and lightning storms in the middle of a city, just to keep people safe, people she met only a few days prior. Less than a few, even. Frey’s kindness is sinking a spell into nothing more than a scrape. Maybe Frey means that her kindness doesn’t put someone in debt to her for it, but there’s still a sunk cost. It’s still not free.

And it’s not naivete, either, Legacy doesn’t think, because she’s seen other types of kindness, too, even just from the few people she’s interacted with so far in the city.

GD’s kindness is letting herself feel the fear when Frey transforms, just so Frey can be that dog or wolf. Sunk cost. Cardea’s kindness is sitting for an hour listening to flutes so she can make sure a criminal is at rest. Sunk cost. Wén Xuěliàng and Yáo Jìngwǎn approached a couple of people talking about murder just to put a ghost to rest, Arianell gave a protective contract to a bunch of basically-nobodies because they’d done a good job and agreed in good faith not to hurt anyone unnecessarily, Klymene granted a random wizard protection just because they’d asked. Sunk cost, sunk cost, sunk cost. None of it is free.

And that’s all to people they like. To people they have no reason to be unkind to. If Frey thinks she’s taking nothing from herself to apologize to a man who only doesn’t want her dead because his people fled in thirty seconds, she’s lying to herself, and she’s certainly lying to Legacy.

But she doesn’t say any of this. And the rest of them are already walking, talking, insisting on paying for dinner.

(More kindness. More sunk cost. Gratitude, sure, but kindness, and still - not free. Quite literally, in this case.)

Legacy wonders how much of that Frey can read off of her, as she starts walking, too, leaving Legacy a little lost.

She stomps a hoof on the ground, once, casts her eyes upward, and walks a bit faster to catch up.

22. Things you said after making a bad decision

(for my dnd party, just to be clear: bad decision is HEAVILY in quotation marks. i love party coherency and so does legacy. but also aren’t all bad party decisions (and there by definition have to be Many) precipitated by One decision, the one to BECOME a party? i rest my case.)

There’s a scream on the docks, which isn’t really a new thing because the crush of the Os Kvelya docks are always loud and there’s always someone screaming at someone else.

But this is a scream. Proper, horrified.

Much more interesting than a walk home, anyway. Legacy alters her course immediately.

She’s not the only one. None of them are city guards, or anything, but there’s three - creatures, considering one of them is a large white wolf - and a clearly distressed human woman, pale as anything and probably the reason for the screaming. The other three, wolf included, seem to have “inspecting the body” down, so Legacy focuses on the woman instead. Having a possible witness passing out on them won’t do anyone any favors.

She keeps an eye on the investigation, though. After a minute, she decides to involve herself. The woman-who-was-a-wolf gives her findings first: “He got stabbed! With a big knife. In his ribs.”

And Legacy replies, invested: “You hate to see it. Do any of you three know him? I'm assuming not.”

Considering the screaming woman is the only one who looks with any fear towards the corpse, and no one else seems to be taking time from their investigation to grieve quietly, sob loudly, or beat their chests in misdirected anger, Legacy has to assume.

It takes her on a bit of a whirlwind, too. Stabbing on a dock leads to necromancy leads to a boat to brunch then to a criminal court, and so on and so forth to a fight with a necromancer. It’s about there that Legacy realizes that she should regret this. Chalk up the whole thing as a bad decision and get back on the road after a few more days in the city.

Except.

She finds herself in a bathhouse with them later, her wounds healed, instead of bandaged like they would have been if she were alone, scrubbing grime off of her and enjoying easy conversation with the two women who aren’t deep in their own heads right now.

The bard, GD (whatever that may stand for), says, “It’s nice to be among friends, if you all would like to stick around.”

And Legacy finds herself not minding the idea. It’s only hours after they meet, with Legacy only half-trying to keep her eyes off a very pretty set of tits, and she says, “GD, I think I'd like to stick around. Those who solve a murder together stay together, etcetera.”

And that, despite what she intellectually knows, the fact that necromancers and Reveries and Asmodeus and going after them all are generally considered bad decisions - well, she’ll just see what happens. She’s got a good feeling about it nonetheless.

Zephyr

19. Things you said when nothing bigger concerned you

“Sir Gentry,” Zephyr coos, chuffing him under his chin. “Pretty boy.”

He chirps at them and blinks, and Zephyr grins. “Okay. Off the desk. I have to study and you’re not very conducive to that.”

They pick him up and set him down, turning back to the spellbook she’d used the Academy funds to buy. Before this it was a shitty three-copper notebook that she took great pains to conceal, but this is a proper spellbook, with thick pages and a pretty purple leather cover. It’s the most luxurious thing Zephyr’s ever owned, and smells a little bit like lavender.

“All I have to do is impress them,” Zephyr tells themself, though she’s not sure exactly who “they” are yet, and don’t yet know how to impress. Their innate magic is very different from the spells they’ve been able to grasp so far - where Zephyr can remember the sparkling feeling of accidentally casting dancing lights or faerie fire on herself, this is nothing of the sort.

This is memorization, more, going over and over incantation and effect and intent and theory in their mind until they have magic concentrated like a beating heart and mind together in their body, just waiting to be released.

It’s the way they’ve learned to make it work. Their professors describe something different, but Zephyr has felt the welling feeling of possibility on the tip of their tongue, and can’t imagine any other way of casting. They’re no longer casting with her joy, but they’re still casting with everything of herself she can throw into it. Today, they’re content.

They open their spellbook proper, the lines on their face hardening as they concentrate. They know how to do this, or something like this. Like they’d said, all she has to do is impress. They’ll start breathing magic.

That’s plenty impressive.

26. Things you said while lying about yourself

“Zephyranthes Mirimm,” she says, holding out her hand.

Lona Mirimm looks at her with vague distrust in her eyes. Zephyr tries not to make it seem like it matters to her.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Lona says.

Zephyr waves that off. It’s easy to rebut, that. She’s practiced it a thousand times, preparing for this. “I doubt you would have. I’m not one of the generational Mirimms like I expect you are - my parents aren’t even Rosohnans. I’m from Asarius, originally. It’s so nice to meet you!”

She gives Lona a wide smile that they hope isn’t going to be seen through, and Lona finally takes her hand, then. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

One Mirimm down, Zephyr thinks to themself. Hopefully no more to go.

They’re not sure how far their pedigree will actually stretch, though she’s sure that when she does better than good in the Academy, no one will think to check.

She looks over her shoulder as she leaves Lona, accidentally catching her gaze. Zephyr blinks, jerks her head back to the front, and focuses on the tap-click of her new heels as she hurries down the hall.

[ey8508]

5 minutes encounter with …… (…… X MC)

Chapter 9

I was walking in a fast pace across the parking lot.

It was early in the morning so no-

Well, it was nobody a few seconds ago until…

He showed up, walking casually beside me. He obviously has no problem to beat me even by walking.

I mean, it’s not a competition…

Well, what can I say… tall people.

However, I just continued walking and tried to act as if nothing had changed within my emotions.

Looking on my wristwatch it’s already been more than 5 minutes.

How is he still here?

I sighed.

“How are you still here?”

“Have you not noticed that your ‘interview session’ with me took a lot more of my time?”

Emphasizing the ‘interview session’... as if.

I wouldn’t say it that way actually... It’s quite the opposite if he was gonna use the word.

It was me who asked him the questions, not all of it...

So, matter of fact... wouldn’t it be me as the interviewer instead?

However, I don’t think that issue is important at the moment.

“Well yeah, but didn’t you stopped time?”

“….”

He didn’t reply back and just casually followed me walking towards my office room.

“Fine, maybe you can help me with my case or something…”

Moments later a co-worker of mine approached us and smiled at me before looking at the guy next to me.

Oh… no. They can definitely see him. I forgot about that…

Unexpectedly, he just casually nods as a formal greeting.

Well, that went well as my co-worker nods back at him.

A man to man greeting indeed…

After the slight encounter we continued on walking in to my office room.

My office room was quite big… let’s just say I got talents in my job.

“Not bad”

As he exclaimed while casually taking the seat in front of my desk.

I beamed a smile at him before taking the opposite seat.

He suddenly held out a hand at me, showing his fair left palm.

I looked at him in confusion.

I have no idea by what he meant by that??

“What?”

I questioned, slightly frowning.

“Give me your hand.”

He demands with no expression on his face.

That ain’t good…

At some point, I can’t keep up with whatever he’s thinking.

Arguing with him isn’t the best solution either...

“Are you going to pay me a million for giving my hand to you?”

I nonchalantly asked him back.

He sighed before replying me.

“Sure, whatever you want.”

He faintly smiled afterwards.

“But I actually have schedules to follow today. You know, I’m a busy woman”

He ‘tsk’ at my words before extending out his hand even closer to me.

I sighed before actually placing my left hand on his right hand.

He smiled before lightly squeezing my hand between his slender long fingers.

Suddenly, before I can even blink or react we were already standing somewhere else.

I gasped in shocked as I curiously looked at my surroundings.

To be honest, I’d be already in chaos if he wasn’t the first person I saw.

But because he was there, just the same position as before when we were still in my office…. I instantly calmed myself down. 

“Why did you bring me here?”

He didn’t reply but instead held my hand even tighter than before. It was as if assuring me that everything is fine.

Silently, I followed him as we walked towards a gravestone. It was nearby an average sized tree where its shadow almost covered the sunlight from touching that one particular gravestone.

I thought maybe, he just needs someone to rely on… or maybe-

My thoughts instantly stopped as I finally focused on the name beautifully engraved on it. The moment I finally realized it-

But it can’t be?!

I re-read the name. Over and over again before finally tries to calm myself assuming that it must’ve been a coincidence.

It’s just a name.

Nothing to be worried about.

Right?

Slowly, I turned my head towards him.

The sunlight shone across his side profile was bright enough for me to see a single tear escaped his eyes right after he blinked as he finally turned his head towards me.

He wasn’t showing any emotions but his eyes.

Those two beautiful eyes weren’t lying.

His eyes show nothing but grieve and sadness.

I blinked unable to actually do whatever other people would usually do… I wasn’t capable of anything to comfort someone. All I know is that they need it but I guess… I’m just not the right person…

”So, how did she died?”

He chuckled as I mentally slapped myself. I definitely asked the wrong question. That was the least comforting….

“Car accident.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for the lost.”

Then, we stayed silent again as I looked at the gravestone again. 

I couldn’t keep up a conversation with him.

“I tried turning back time but fate can’t be undone”

I nodded, now fully aware of his Time Evol. As what he called it that day.

I didn’t want to trouble him with more question while he’s in this condition and yet again I stayed silent.

“But you said before that you already rewind time to save me again?”

I can’t keep the question inside my head as I finally blurted out the question after some moments of silent.

“True, but not in my world. The timeline I’m from. Your world is different”

What did he just said?!

‘His world’

Am I-

Did he just-

But I quickly calmed myself before questioning the ‘more’ important part.

“So, that’s basically me?”

I quickly turned my head towards him but didn’t fail to show how calm I am about it.

Even though... I’m not.

He nods while his gaze stays on the gravestone.

“Like me, me?? Same me? Everything?”

“Yes.”

His eyes are now on me.

“and doesn’t that mean that there’s another you in my own timeline?”

“True”

He nods as his bangs slightly covering his eyes caused by the quick head motion.

I was about to asked him another question when he suddenly held out his hand at me once again.

Indicating that he was gonna take me to somewhere again.

“Wait, you’re not going to put some flowers or something?”

He smiled.

“Right…”

I blinked, was he-

Did he just leave me here?!

He suddenly disappeared… I’m so gonna-

Before I could even think, he was back again but was now placing a bouquet of roses near the gravestone.

I just silently watched him until he was now walking his way towards me.

He held out his hand again to me and I just casually placed my hand on his.

With that, I was yet again somewhere else.

I looked around to my new surrounding as he leads me to another chair almost similar to mine but of course looking more expensive.

“Wait here.”

He exclaimed before walking himself towards an intercom near the table.

As he did so, I was already looking through the capacious room. But it’s an office room to be specific.

“Goldman, send me the statistics for the week.”

He seems to be talking about business matters. I totally have no idea within this area of job.

Wait.

Does that mean, he is in this field of job?

Probably under some main unit here in this huge company.

I wonder what unit he’s in? Maybe the stock management, company accountant??

Not bad himself. He got a decent job too.

“Give me 10 minutes.”

He exclaimed to me before taking the seat right next to the huge desk.

I nodded as I constantly observed him as he quickly typed in loads of words on his computer.

Suddenly, a knock came from the main door.

“Come in.”

He said in an monotonous voice without even looking at the person who just walks in.

“Sir, this requires your signature”

He totally has a high rank here. I don’t doubt that.

The man wearing thick rectangular spectacles carefully placed the few stacks of paper on his neat, clear desk as he quickly motioned where it should be placed.

As the man was about to walk out of the room he was stopped.

“The statistics shows a clear 1% decrease. Make it higher by 95% before next week”

“Right away, Sir”

The man turned to face him before exclaiming back.

“Also, the other 3 candidates out of 10 is not performing well. Reject them.”

The man in front nods.

I observed them as he casually demands almost everything to the man who’s standing.

I mean it was bad to bully your co-worker, but is he even his co-worker? Doesn’t seem like it.

I find it’s rather amusing to see them conversing between each other.

It was as if, a King was talking with a commoner.

Now, I wonder who was the ‘me’ in this timeline before. How did they even meet with each other? That would be hilarious to know about.

I smiled while heavily in thought.

“What are you thinking now?”

He asked, looking at me me sideways and was now already in front of me. He was already extending his hands for me to hold.

What 10 minutes was over?!

Oh. That was quick.

“Nothing much, I just thought of another increase in the price for giving you my hand…”

I smiled mischievously.

He casually shook his head sideways with a sigh.

“What? Are you gonna add a Lamborghini?”

“Yes. I knew you know about that”

I beamed a smile at him again.

“You have my word”

He casually replied back without even the slight annoyance within.

I slightly laughed in satisfaction before I finally held on to his hand.

Once again, it’s the third time now. I’m yet again in another new place.

This time, assuming from the many tables around it seems to be in a restaurant.

“Welcome back Sir”

A person spoke from behind as I turned my head towards the voice.

It was an older man. Looking from his uniforms, he’s definitely the waiter here.

“MC, just follow him and I’ll be back in 15 minutes”

He reassured me to follow the waiter as he motions his hand to the waiter and he quickly walks his way towards another nearby door.

“Wait-“

I frowned, he was already out of sight.

“Please do follow me Miss”

The waiter leads the way towards a staircase.

Oh no… Why do I have to be here anyways?

I’d rather go with him to wherever that 15 minute is….

The waiter slowly leads me to the rooftop. The rooftop was covered by beautifully decorated canopy to cover us from the sun.

There were a few sets of tables up here too. Every tables were also beautifully decorated and was seemingly more beautiful than the ones on the ground level.

“Choose whichever tables you want Miss”

He exclaimed to me with a smile.

I nodded back and also smiled politely to him.

Slowly, I walked towards a nearby table where it shows almost the whole surrounding of the place.

I just casually took the seat as the waiter bows and walks his way downstairs.

Well, another 14 minutes then as I casually placed back my hand on the table after looking at my wristwatch.

I slowly leaned on to the comfortable chair and was about to open my coat but then I noticed that my phone was with me all along. It was inside my coat’s pocket.

After neatly folding my coat and placing it on the table, I finally opened my phone.

Nothing was wrong with it of course.

I smiled and clicked the camera icon.

But then frowned because there was nothing shown on screen. Just pure blackness.

I checked the other apps, even the apps that require internet connection… It works totally fine.

Well, maybe my camera went wrong because of travelling here?

Nevermind, I’ll add that in the ‘price’.

I smiled again thinking about what I’m thinking right now.

As my thoughts went on thinking, I also observed the people who are walking on the nearby streets.

This city looks totally similar as the city I was used to. As how much I have been walking myself in those streets, certainly something had changed. However, I have never seen this restaurant in my timeline before.

Perhaps, it’s something new?

“Careful…”

A voice suddenly said before I could even react.

Knowing it was him, I quickly placed my coat on my lap to give space for the plates.

“Thanks...”

I leaned on the chair as he arranged the few plates on the table.

I thought the waiter was the one who was gonna do that?

Probably, he just wanna be fast about it… because he kept on disappearing and appearing a few times before finally taking the seat opposite mine.

I wanted to ask him a question again but he looks super ‘wanna take a break’ from what I’ve seen the way he’s sipping that drink.

“What is it?”

He questioned me instead as I was about to take hold of my prepared drink on the table.

I probably stared too much?...

“You cooked this within 15 minutes?”

“Why, you wanna eat something else?”

“No.” I resumed on taking a sip of the drink. It was fresh orange juice.

Can’t he just say that he was the one who cooks this?

He nods and swiftly placed his drink on the table.

“Well then, it’s on me”

I just nodded and carefully taking the prepared spoon and forks.

We then started to eat the food in silence.

I noticed that he wasn’t much of a talker himself.

How did they even start a conversation in the first place then?

My thoughts were yet again on about the ‘Me’ from this timeline with this ‘almost expressionless’ guy. How hilarious…

__________________________________________

“You done?”

He questioned me, obviously both of our plates were empty now.

“Yeah”

I said with a nod.

“This restaurant’s name is Souvenir and-“

“and you owned both this restaurant and the company. Isn’t that right Mr. CEO?”

I confidently stated it out.

He faintly smiled.

“How come there’s no company building that tall exist in my timeline? I’m sure that’s your building right there.”

As I pointed my index finger towards the huge, tall building just distance away.

“Hmm… I’m sure we’ll be rivals if you take in your father’s company.”

He casually exclaimed back.

Right, my dad’s company was just on the east side of the city. I could even see the company’s brand shining on sight.

I couldn’t possibly meet my parents in this timeline right. It could’ve been shocking…

“I’m sure, if I were… I’ll have higher income than you”

I remarked back, slightly laughing about the thought.

Indeed, I was supposed to be the heir of the whole company but I just had take the job I have now just to do it for someone dear to me. I made a promise to myself and-

Wait.

That thought, suddenly made me realized something…

I blinked… trying to make words out of my emotional thoughts.

“MC… What’s the matter?”

He quickly stands up from his chair and walks up towards me.

I blinked again and finally realizing that tears were streaming down my cheeks.

I was crying even when I was just thinking about it.

“No, I- I just thought about something…”

He takes the chair right next to mine as I turned half of my body to face him.

“Is everything here an exact copy from the world I came from?”

He blinks seemingly worried about the state I’m in.

“Not all, but some are…”

[profiler-in-courage]

I am humbled 16 people have read my Claes Bang detective bullshit lol. Here is Ch. 2 & 3. Long af as always.

(I have yet to think of a title. Someone send me suggestions plz)

Chapter 2. 

The 7th Precinct was a media frenzy when Emerson pulled up. By 8 am, all the local news outlets had received some tip about the latest murders and it looked like all of them had sent a reporter. 

Emerson scanned the outside of the building, trying to find an entrance that wasn’t guarded by media. He stuffed case files he had taken home into his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to walk-sprint. 

He lowered his gaze to the ground. Eye contact was what got you. 

As he reached the sanctuary of a door, he mentally congratulated himself on  avoiding the bombardment of questions he quite frankly, wasn’t prepared to answer. 

He sat his bag on his desk and headed over to Burnham. His sarcastic best friend of seven years always made the morning after a murder less dark.

“Hey Emerson,” Burnham sipped through a mug of milk. 

An unusual quirk about him was that Jacob Burnham simply drank plain milk. Never coffee. 

Whole, 2 percent, 1 percent, nonfat, whatever was in the back office fridge was good enough for him. 

Forty or seven-years-old? Nobody knew Burnham’s true age.

“Forensics came in,” he waved a file at Emerson. “No prints or DNA of any kind, same as always. Christ.”

Burnham shook his dirty blonde head and handed the papers over.

“Fuck Em, we are never going to catch this guy unless he leaves us something.”

Emerson flipped through the forensics report. Like Burnham had described there was nothing of significance. 

“He will eventually slip up, they always do,” he said, trying to be the positive one.

“Did the families have anything to offer?” 

His friend shook his head, “Just the usual. Victims never got into any trouble, well behaved, no enemies. Nothing out of the ordinary. Can’t imagine why anyone would want two 15-year-old girls dead.” 

Emerson’s mind flashed to Abigail. He was afraid for her. She was smart, but he was sure Halley Reece and Melanie Myers had been smart too. Hell, they may have even known his niece. Same high school. 

The image of Abigail lying in a ditch somewhere creeped across his mind. He shut his eyes.

The feeling of dread was slowly worming its way back into his stomach. 

He went back to his desk, dropping the very thin report onto it. 

It barely made a sound. 

He pulled his phone out of his bag. It was the first time he was checking it this morning. 

He was bad at that. 

One text from his sister and one message from Gwyn. 

He opened his sister’s first.

Emerson, the girls they found last night went to Abigail’s school….this just became a little too close for comfort. I almost made her stay home today.

He sighed, not knowing what to say to Eve. Obviously she couldn’t lock Abigail up in the house, the girl had to go to school and have a life. 

You can’t stop living just because of horrors, he thought.

He sympathized with his sister though, he was just as worried for his niece as she was. 

He scratched his eyebrow and opened up Gwyn’s message next. 

G: 203-637-1366

Was that her phone number? He scrolled to see if she had said anything either before or after, but she had not. It was just her phone number. Or so he assumed. 

Quite bold, he thought. But he oddly liked the cut to the chase showing.

“Any luck in that department?” 

Burnham was standing over his shoulder looking down at the open Tinder app.

Emerson slipped the phone into his front pocket, “Not really.”

“I told you to go on that date with Kate’s sister. Who knows, you could be getting laid every night.” Burnham shrugged. 

Emerson scoffed, “Your wife’s sister is 59 remember?”

A stupid smile flashed across Burnham’s face, “Hey but she’s single! And how do you know you don’t like older women?” 

Emerson blinked, at a loss for words. 

“All I’m saying is we could be brother in laws. Take one for the team Em!”

Emerson swiveled to his computer screen.

“I see you enough already,” he grumbled.

Burnham slapped him on the back, laughing softly. 

Emerson poured over the photos on his desk. One of a woman with the soles of her feet skinned to the point where you could see the bone, another with such horrendous strangulation marks around the neck the purple coloration was almost black. Both were women who had been killed by the Creekmore Serial Killer. 

He was deep in thought, trying to see some connection between all the victims, something he did routinely with no success for this case. 

It was like looking at a math problem he didn’t have the formula for. 

The pocket of his dark blue wool button-up buzzed. It was a text from Gwyn. 

G: So what are you looking to get out of a dating app?

Emerson paused before answering, trying to find sufficient words to make “looking to date” sound less horrendous. 

E: Looking to date. What about you?

He figured he may as well just tell the truth. 

G: I’m looking to get absolutely wild in the bedroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

Emerson’s eyebrows sprung up. Maybe he had misjudged Gwyn. He wasn’t looking for just sex. 

Burnham always joked that Emerson should be a priest.

He figured he would wait to respond if he responded at all. The excitement about his new match had been all but snuffed out after her proclamation. 

He pushed his glasses up so they rested on the top of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt the pang of loneliness he sometimes felt when thinking about his love life. 

He missed his wife. He missed having someone to come home to, talk to, feel beside him as he slept. He missed how he was before. 

Ever since Lyla had passed he had been different. Not as cheerful, not as funny, he actually used to be somewhat of a practical joker. 

He had thought his old self would return after the grieving process was done, yet here he was years later and no relief. 

Lack of female interaction certainly wasn’t helping either. 

Emerson sighed. Maybe he should try the one-night-stand thing. Though the thought of it had always felt awkward. 

Why have sex with someone you hardly know? 

His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

G: Did I scare you off? I was joking btw. 

He let out a small sigh of relief. Ashamed that he was so bad at the whole dating thing that this one match seemed to be the end all be all. 

E: Sorry, was working. He fibbed. But I am glad to see you won’t objectify me for my body.

G: Well, that’s only because I haven’t seen your body. 

Emerson chuckled. He liked her witty remarks. 

How soon was too soon to ask someone on a date? Were there Tinder rules? Did he care? 

Not really. 

E: How would you like to see it? Fully clothed of course. 

He felt his heart rate pick up. He hadn’t felt excited like this in a long time. 

Of course, that’s when Burnham decided to interrupt.

“Those photos telling you anything yet?” he asked. 

Emerson shook his head, “No unfortunately.” 

His friend sat on the edge of the desk, “This fucking bastard leaves no trace. No DNA. Nothing.”

With the lack of info they had that was all Burnham really ever said about it.

Hard to do, thought Emerson. 

He saw his phone vibrate on the desk.

Burnham’s eyes followed his friend’s. 

“So…you sure Tinder isn’t working out for you?”

Emerson rolled his eyes, “Oh Christ.”

After enduring more teasing from Burnham than he would’ve liked, his fellow detective finally left to go bother someone else. 

Despite the torture that had felt like he was being waterboarded, Emerson had not let anything slip about his potential date. 

Not all things were meant to be shared among friends, not yet anyway. Besides, he had only started talking to her last night. Everyone needed to relax, him included. 

He opened her message. 

G: I would love to. Name a time and place and I’m there.

Chapter 3. 

Coffee. That wasn’t too casual and not too formal right? Or so Emerson hoped. 

So here he sat at some local place downtown. Waiting and a bit nervous. 

He heard the door open and he saw her. His eyes followed hers as she looked around for her date. 

He lifted his finger slightly. 

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she said as she sat down across from him. 

Emerson tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

She smirked, “That you look exactly like your photos.” 

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Have you been on many dates where that wasn’t the case?” 

She ran a hand through her long hickory colored hair, “More than I’d like.” 

Gwyn looked exactly as she had in her photos too. Emerson hadn’t even considered the possibility that she wouldn’t. 

Which he probably should have considering he met her online. 

He studied her. She was staring at him, looking him up and down. He smiled, amused. 

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. 

“I would,” she said. 

Emerson waited for her to say what she wanted. A few seconds went by. 

This is awkward, he thought as his eyes darted from side to side. 

He cleared his throat. 

“What would you like?...” he asked.

Gwyn smiled mischievously, “You're a detective. Read me. What do you think my order is?”

Interesting, he thought. 

He tilted his head slightly, finally drinking in everything about the woman who was across from him. 

She was wearing a tight black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and a silver chain-linked bracelet. 

Her makeup was simple, she didn’t need much of it. She was naturally beautiful. Her hair had a shine to it and it curled into a slight wave. 

She had with her a plain black satchel. Big enough to fit only a wallet and a phone and possibly a few other womanly essentials. 

She was simple. But, sophisticated. At least that is what her appearance told him. 

Emerson remembered that her bio had said she was an artist. Which must mean she was somewhat serious about coffee. Not the frappuccino type. 

But, there was a softness to her. She didn’t appear to take herself too seriously, judging from her text messages. 

So probably not black coffee. 

Gwyn waited patiently for him to finish his assessment. A hint of a smile on her lips. 

“I think I got it,” Emerson said as he turned to walk towards the counter. 

“Hi, can I get one iced hazelnut latte and one hot Americano with cream please,” he told the barista. 

Emerson turned to look back at Gwyn. She was far enough away so she wouldn't have heard the order. 

He wanted to see her shock when she found out he was right. He was certain he was. 

He smiled to himself. 

He walked back to their table with the drinks. Gwyn was sitting looking bemused. Her legs crossed, her eyes following his every move.

“So, what did you decide for me?” she asked. 

Her voice was soft. He liked it. It reminded him of the way a stream sounds in a quiet forest.

Emerson said nothing. Just simply handed her the drink. 

Her eyes sparkled as she took it from his hand. Her gaze holding his. 

For a moment, he thought he might have gotten her wrong. 

Gwyn took a sip of the Americano and raised her eyebrows. 

He could tell she was trying to hide her amazement. She didn’t want to give him complete satisfaction and he liked that. She was fun.  

“Well Detective Woods, I suppose you are very good at your job then,” she smiled. 

Emerson beamed.

“Only a little,” he said as he took a sip of his latte. 

Gwyn let out a small laugh, shaking her head, “Is it too soon to say I already want to see you again and this date has been what, 10 minutes?” 

He looked at her over his straw. He felt the same. 

He felt something. For the first time since his wife.

“Now let me do you,” she said. 

Emerson paused, “What…”

“Let me read you,” said Gwyn, sipping her coffee. 

He sat back, trying to hide a smile, “Alright.”

Gwyn rubbed the bottom of her chin with her thumb as she studied the man across from her. 

He was handsome, that much was obvious. Rugged around the edges but not sharp, which was good. It made him look kind. 

He was wearing a grey quarter-zip pullover sweater, the beginnings of a burgundy collared shirt peeking out. His tortoise shell glasses made him look like he could be walking the halls of Oxford and be at home. 

Faded dark green pants with...were those cowboy boots? Interesting. 

So he wasn’t from Connecticut. 

The eyes behind the glasses were dark yet welcoming. A few days old stubble coated his face. 

His hair, thank god he had a full head of it, was dark. Perfectly styled in the ever popular comb over. 

It was too long for him to be ex-military but short enough that she could tell he liked things neat. Gwyn couldn’t quite tell if it was black or just a very dark shade of brown. 

Luckily they were seated by a window and he moved ever so slightly so that a ray of sunshine hit him. 

Midnight brown, was that a color? It was now. Silver bits were beginning to show their glint throughout Emerson’s hair.

If she was being honest he didn’t look like a police detective. They usually were only this good looking in movies. He could have been a writer or a professor that female students day dreamed about. 

The cowboy boots were throwing her off. 

Was he Texan? 

She didn’t remember hearing an accent, but then again they had only said a few sentences to each other. 

And yet, she knew she wanted a second date. She needed to impress him. She didn’t know she already had.

“Judging from your boots you aren’t from here, I’ll be generic and guess Texas?”

He nodded, waiting for Gwyn to continue. 

“You’re smart, otherwise you wouldn’t be a detective and you most certainly would not have gotten my order right. You're patient, you would have to be to be willing to sit here right now and listen to me.” 

Emerson chuckled, taking another sip of his latte. 

Gwyn continued, “Your eyes are hard but your face is gentle. You have seen and been through monstrous things but you don’t let it affect your character. You’re quiet, which leads me to believe you’re polite. Which is good because I can’t stand loud boisterous men.” 

Emerson leaned forward. He hadn’t expected her to be this good. 

“Between the way you look and my expectation that you are a good man, you must be single for a reason. So, I am guessing your ex either was unfaithful or died.” 

Gwyn was blunt. Emerson didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He scratched his cheek, “She passed away.”

Gwyn looked down at the table, confidence leaving her for only a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

Emerson shrugged, “But you were right.” 

Gwyn smiled softly. 

He could tell she enjoyed being right. Though not with a haughty arrogance. He respected that. 

“And how did you learn to read people so well? Are you an ex detective?” he asked, amused. 

Gwyn twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, “It’s not hard to see what people project.” 

Emerson smirked, nodding. 

Oh she’s very smart, he thought. 

They talked for hours after conducting their own way of breaking the ice. Gwyn could now hear the hint of an accent. 

They discussed movies, music, food, books, especially books. 

She liked nonfiction. He preferred fiction. 

Emerson was entranced with the way Gwyn spoke. Her words were light but intelligent. And she held eye contact. 

She had already assessed why he was single. So why was she?

He continued to study her. 

Her posture was welcoming, her sentences were flirtatious, but her expressions were guarded. 

Guarded meant she had been hurt before. Most likely multiple times. 

Though with an open posture, not physically. 

He couldn’t detect anything to signify she was nervous. She hadn’t been the entire date. She was confident. She could have anyone she wanted. 

So why didn’t she? 

“Figured me out yet?” she asked, pulling Emerson out of his thoughts. 

He looked down, embarrassed. 

“Not quite,” he smiled.

“Good. I need you at least intrigued enough for a second date,” she said. 

“Possibly more,” said Emerson, playfully reaching.

“Possibly,” Gywn responded, her eyes dancing.

She leaned forward on the small circular table. 

“Emerson Woods you are something.”

He winked. It made her laugh. 

“As much as I would love to talk with you all day, I should be going,” she said. 

Emerson nodded. He probably should too. They had spent nearly three hours in this coffee shop. 

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, wanting every second he could with her. 

She turned to him, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. 

“Oh there is no need. I took an Uber, car’s in the shop after a very nasty old woman felt the need to rear end me.” 

Emerson laughed. He could offer her a ride. Should he?

“Would you like me to track her down for you? I could probably find something to pin on her,” he said, glancing down at where her hand had just been. 

She giggled, rolling her eyes, “Could you please? She’s costing me 400 dollars.”

They walked outside. It was overcast and there was a slight breeze. Emerson watched her hair lift in the wind. 

Before she could take out her phone to call an Uber, Emerson walked over to the passenger side of his car that was parked along the curb. He opened it. 

“I promise you’ll have a more enjoyable experience with me rather than someone you don’t know. If you’ll allow me.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, raising her eyebrows, “But I don’t know you. Not really.” 

Emerson paused. She was right. Three hours of conversation didn’t exactly mean they knew each other. And with the Creekmore Serial Killer making headlines for months, she was probably wise to refuse him. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Though I am a policeman,” he kept his hand on the door handle. 

She bopped her head from side to side, feigning weighing her options. 

“Can I rate you if you're a bad driver?” she joked, stepping over to the car.

Emerson chuckled, “I promise to be extra careful with you.”

[ssaalexblake]

I am, as they say, That person who has a huge ass pile of books to read that i’ve had, in some cases, for years, but i saw the new Suzanne Collins book was out and got an e-copy and read it immediately, you know, as you do when you have a huge pile of books to get through. 

anyway, spoilers, definitely ---

I’ve never actually read a Book where the whole story was from the perspective of a terrible protagonist, i have read books where there have been spare chapters from the perspective of villains, but never has the villain been the Protagonist before in my experience. And this protagonist was showing danger signs of a seriously pathological narcissistic personality from the opening world building chapters, and it only got worse and worse as the stakes in his life got higher and higher. 

And here’s the thing, i Know people were immediate and vapid in attacking Collins for this when the plot summary were released, and i will admit, my eyes rolled so very much at the immediate assumption that this was a story to make you sympathise wigh him, because, simply, i’ve read the trilogy. Collins’ doesn’t even make her Hero characters that sympathetic a lot of the time, with the exception of Prim and Rue, whose literary function demanded them to be symbols of purity and innocence, practically everybody else is in a shade of grey. The victors we love all have blood on their hands, even Peeta, who is also a symbol for non violent ideals, is corrupted by the narrative. This is not a series that is particularly nice to it’s cast of characters, even when we are meant to Like them. 

But now after some brief fandom browsing i am now just going ‘wtf’ at the idea that people are Still holding onto the idea After having read it that, just because a story is about a bad guy, the author Must somehow be endorsing their actions. I’ve literally never read a story with a more unsympathetic protagonist. What a Disgusting person. 

This story revealed that the villain is a pathological and possessive narcissist who is very much the hero of his own story, but sure as hell nobody else’s. 

I also noted that people have been commenting that the book is too Coincidental in its references and that it made it a bad story, that they were just for clout. That Snow is in 12. The lake. The bakery and so on and so on, and that it put people off and seemed just a grab to keep people interested, but the thing is, it’s a Ballad.  This isn’t ‘the novel of songbirds and snakes’, it’s ‘the Ballad’. It plays out, contextually, with the deliberate knowledge that all the readers have read how this story ends in the trilogy, as one of the covey’s songs. 

I’m not sure how to phrase it, but i feel like viewing the story and plot itself as more of a folk song or limerick is the best way to look at it from, it’s not Meant to be a novel. It’s a Ballad. The literary devices in two such storytelling methods are very different, in a ballad i would Expect this type of thing which is fair because the book is named a ballad. In a novel i would find it a bit too coincidental, but i don’t think that was how we were supposed to look at it. 

That all aside, i never actually had any feelings for Snow beyond the literary device he embodied, the power so vast and beyond you it is hopeless to even think of defying it. Now i have Many feelings about Snow, namely, that i actively hate him now. 

This book may actually play out as a cautionary tale about being careful of narcissists, actually, and taking care to make sure they do not end up amassing too much power. 

I would say Collins portrayed Snow as a mixture of the old Nurture versus Nature debate, his absolute lust for total control to no longer be the victim of something as horrific as the war was Clearly a case of circumstance... If he had never been in the war, he would not have felt the sheer powerlessness that has led to his absolute need for control. 

There is also the other angle of his nurturing that plays into this, his Absolute sense of entitlement as a Snow. He was born a Snow, not some lowly normal capitol family, or worse, one of those ‘district animals’. In his mind, what was rightfully His was stolen from him when they lose the business in the war because of district 13, he got bit in the ass by capitalism, hilariously. His family’s business went under, and the loss of income from it took them from hero to zero, but he though he was Owed his money and status by virtue of his birth and did not see how fragile the perch of his wealth and status was even After the perch had been toppled and he was left penniless. The presence of irrefutable evidence that nothing but access to more dollars provided his life style did not even break through his entitlement. 

But i mean, there are a lot of entitled capitalists in this world who think that just because they Used to have money and a thriving business means they are entitled to always have that, and while it makes them not that great, it doesn’t exactly make them Monsters. But here’s the thing, you also cannot claim that Snow is not just naturally a self centered narcissist. That is just a personality trait, and it is This that makes the above a horrifying problem. 

When somebody else is harmed, it is about how it will effect Him. The tragedy in being assigned district 12, girl, was not that a girl was being stolen away to be murdered, but that he got stuck with one of the kids unlikely to win. Tigris’ implication of what she may have had to do to keep their family operating was first and foremost about how uncomfortable and disgusted it made Him. Other were reduced to utter horrors to survive the war and he judged them for it, all the while, he only escaped such a thing because of a crime his grandmother committed (looting was, technically, illegal). Clemmie maybe needing him? It wasn’t about her or her life, it was about how it might effect Him (to a point, it is fair to fear for your own life in such a situation, but most would bother to feel bad about it). This is just a handful of examples, but there are many, many more. 

He is also Horrifyingly possesive. He, Literally, is a textbook case of an abusive boyfriend who kills their girlfriend because they might have priorities other than him. Lucy Gray may not be dead, i was not left with the impression he succeeded in killing her, but the deal sealer is in the attempt, not whether he succeeds. The entire narrative in his head towards his relationship with lucy contains every danger sign i’ve ever been warned against in men. He wishes to Own her, not love her, and that he was literally given her life on a plate as an experiment did not help with his narcissistic entitlement. His family and friends (though, he did not have friends) all assumed he loved her and because they said it he assumed it was true. But it was possession he was feeling. 

He did not help Lucy out of the goodness of his heart, it was self serving. It was self serving the entire time. Us, having knowledge of his internal monologue are aware of his self centered intentions, but the characters around him, unaware of this, treat him as if he is a good person because they assume he has charitable motives. He very much does not. Him comforting Clemmie was, every step of the way, for his own benefit. He Certainly was not the saint Sejanus thought he was. 

But he still Believes the people who tell him how great he is!!! Narcissist. 

he is, in short, a right piece of work. What a monster it takes to get your ‘brother’ executed for treason and manage to make it about himself in about an Hour. What a monster it takes to attempt to do that to Lucy Gray. What a monster it takes to get the Plinth’s only child killed and take his inheritance and power out of a sense of entitlement and continue calling the grieving mother ‘ma’. 

Anyway, brilliant character building. I Hate him. 

I also Love the world building, the confirmation that Reaping Day is on July 4th, the idea that in the beginning even the capitol citizens thought the hunger games were barbaric and depressing and that they had to be won over by a propaganda campaign of dehumanization and entertainment. The idea that mentors were once capitol citizens, that it went wrong so they erased it from history but cherrypicked the parts that worked. 

I found Dr Gall or whatever her name was gravitating towards Snow interesting, because people who are like that Naturally gravitate towards people who prove their world views right, and by all rights Snow does turn out very much like her (admittedly, with less an interest in science), who is to say she in turn was not less of a monster in earlier life but grew into it as well? She saw something in him and nurtured it with poison. 

This is getting increasingly more random, But i love Peeta’s highjacking now. I was never against it, but it was never the plot for me, but now i am So into it. Because Sejanus is Very peeta like, that idealism. And how satisfying it must have been for Snow to finally be able to crack into that and destroy it because he has the Power to do so now. 

On the flip side, I actually now wish we had Peeta perspective chapters, because there is a compelling argument to say Snow and Peeta have their similarities, too. I mean, their defining difference is that Peeta is a good person, but they have the same talent for sheer manipulation as each other, Peeta manipulated hunger games audiences into keeping Katniss alive longer, Snow did the same with Lucy Gray. They are both deeply charismatic, generally liked by their peers, popular, are sabotaged by small groups of people who hate them for reasons beyond their control. They are inversions, same coin, different sides. 

The sexual slavery of the victors is now a more narratively interesting thing, as well, because snow is, in this book, Disgusted by the idea of any kind of sexual impropriety (not My opinion, but he considers it impropriety). He is disturbed by Tigris’ implication she may have had to engage in it. Was what he did to the victors merely a case of his disdain for district animals and wishing to subject them to the most degrading thing as possible? How did he get from A to B here? 

Seeing the very first career pack was interesting, too. I wonder if the stronger districts started to band together in the games from realising the strategy had advantages or of the capitol subtly Encouraged the behavior themselves. The latter seems more likely, considering they were the ones out for a good show. 

I was interested on canon confirmation on the peacekeepers, to be honest. I’ve seen fic discuss where exactly they come from, but to know they are made up from less wealthy capitol citizens And district people after either money/a way out of their assigned district’s profession or both was a nice lore drop. 

I know it’s not Confirmed Tigris is the same Tigris who played a part in mockingjay but... it would be so wonderful if she were. Being brought down, in part, by she who nurtured him. Tigris loved Coryo because she thought he was somebody he was not, so when and how did she find out who he Really was? 

In the end, i find the idea that this books Shows us Snow created the country we see in the trilogy through the reasoning that A) humanity is terrible and will always fight and try to destroy each other  and that B) he decided that if point A was true, he’d amass enough personal power to make sure he would Always be in control of the fights and come out on top of them utterly Fascinating societal commentary, most of which is not really my lane to address so i won’t (also, it’s fairly obvious). 

But the idea that Snow was one of the capitol ones who sees the district people in a more favourable light simply because he’s at least willing to admit they’re not zoo animals is Stunning when you put it in context of all the things He does to them. He’s not even close to the worst one and look what he did! 

In the end, i think Collins has fleshed out this world and made it more horrifying than it was before. And Panem is meant to be a reflection of our own society’s failings. This book was not to say ‘oh Snow was an actual person so wasn’t That bad’, it was trying to say ‘Snow was an actual person and is Very much terrible’ because the idea is this series is a highlighted reflection of the real bad in our own world. If the monster Snow is cannot be relatable to a real person, how is it any kind of societal commentary at all? He cannot be one dimensional and totally evil from the womb if you want the story to actually say anything. 

I also did find this story relied on Collins’ previously seen not necessarily realistic world from the original books to make its point, and i did not expect that to be a deal breaker for so many people considering the story from the trilogy relied on its audience’s skill to read into the meaning rather than the literal at times as well, but i stand by my assertation that the title is meant to be an indication of the type of narrative the book observes, it is a song, which is a very different style of story than that in any other kind of media. 

[roxannepolice]

But yah rey as a character is just so frustrating you know? Cause like, yeah sure she could be complex with a powerful arc where shes forced to come to terms with the fact she wasted years of her life on self-imposed delusions in a cathartic way, or she could be a flat piece of marketing cardboard which Disney is banking on vagina+superpowers=profit without having to go through that persnicty character flaw overcoming or the like. Because like you said, hearing shes a nobody (which ngl, her assuming she was a somebody wasn’t really ever supported in tfa, just that her family was coming back and she desperately wanted them to) is apparently the worst thing but it changes absolutely nothing, not her approach, not her demeanor , if vaguely sad is the absolute worse a character is gonna experience in a goddamn space opera then yeah, full offense ill take the l on Mary sue discourse but her character will definitely be a boring ass wash. We all make fun of whiny new hope Luke but him being a kinda nuisance to both the audience and those around him is what made is transformation into full blown Jedi knight so powerful. With Rey so far what weve got is badass perfect cinnamon roll finally get her due as such, which is clearly working for some people, but I fail to see how that isn’t spectacularly tone deaf to make a protag in this genre such. Operas about drama, not patting you on the back. Rey (assuming she remains as is) would’ve been fine as a protag s the only piece of Star Wars media we ever got was a new hope. But rn she a chosen one architype (and I know that bunch of ppl are gonna go but the series ‘but shes not the chosen one, Anakin still is, the new series isn’t trying to make her one!’ but lets not beat around the burning bush, if u got a character that walks on water and the reason why is because god said so, ur dealing with a chosen one trope and if a character is star wars is made ultrapowerful in lore breaking ways because force said so? Yeah were dealing with a chosen one.) when we had both the deconstruction and the reconstruction done. Shes a straight hero when the success of the ot rest on hitting the formula near perfect the first time. What exactly is Rey, the individual character, bringing to the table? What makes her story supposedly so important the a perfectly good ending had to be made invalid to tell it? A bunch of ppl will say heroines’ journey! But if that’s the case I gotta say, wheres all the feminine shit? Im serious, if the heroines journey is reintegrating the feminine and realizing ‘oh shit mom had a point’ there where is both the feminine skills/coping mechanism and the mom? I mean I saw some ppl arguing for leia in a ‘reys Persephone!’ meta (she isn’t, you can make a much better case for ben himself as Persephone to be quite frank, yall are focusing so much on the trees ((girl gets abducted by guy)) that u forgot the forest existed, the actually story ((girl winds up queen on the underworld, well gee whiz which character just took control of that after leaving the world of living and a grieving divine mother behind, it’s a mystery apparently) behind, it’s a mystery apparently) ((but seriously though even if we hope for dark rey does anyone assume its gonna be taking control of a dark/dead coded org at least partially at this point, do you, do you really??). but given the fact she had what, one line of screen dialogue that’s breaking ur arm with that stretch. As far as skills go I guess you could make an argument for scavenging, but if that’s the case dlf did a shit job of conveying that as female-coded. Everything about rey in tfa seems deliberately androgynous, and yeah, she had her hair let down/mascara moment, but that’s tied to her ‘failure’ on the supremacy thus something nw.SPEAKIGN OF FAILURES ON THE SUPERAMCY AND LACK THERE OF. I find it kind funny that bunch of reylo bnfs (you know who they are) are all ‘hur dur fanboys/antis are dumb and don’t get story structure.’ And then going, ‘why are yall asking how/assuming rey fucked up in throne room/climax of her story in the second portion/darkest point of her character arc? Why do you hate women/ur own ovaries so much?’ because it like walking into a prefurnished house and being told by the relator ‘HERES THE LIVING ROOM’ and having no damn couch. It’s a living room, I expect a couch here. And in a movie where it’s the low point of a character arc and they drag puppet yoda out to tell me the movie is about failure, I expect a damn failure in whats clearly the climax of the characters arc for this movie. As it stands now there are three possibilities imo. 1st, rey had no failure, she is the pure badass maid o light ppl want and every inch the boring cardboard she is accused of by fanbros, remains static, and is relegated to an also ran to benlo taking the most compelling character trophy this trilogy in 10 yrs2nd possibility and the one im hoping for, failure speech wasn’t just thematic explanation but also foreshadowing, rey fucks up big and dramatic in a way that makes her manage to stand out as unique with both her contemporaries and her predecessors(last part, if its ever to much lemme know pls im sorry i just gotta get it out) 3rd and most likely possibility, rey isn’t the main character, benlo is and that’s why his failure both moral in the throne room and logistic on criat take center stage for the last third or so of the movie. Rey is merely a pov character to tell the dramatic villain protag story they wanted and have their very marketable unproblematic Disney heroine cake too.

Ok, so this discourse kinda died down by now, but thanks to that it’s possible to maybe have a calmer look at it I’m totally not trying to justify my late response.

Anyway, the good result is that quite recently my brother, who’s not overly taken with Rey - or the sequels in general, for that matter - said something which really stuck with me as a possible crux of the problem: 

She’s neither comical nor tragical. Just bland. 

This neither comical nor tragical really struck me. And the more I though about it, the more it was appearing to me that this qualm really applies to the sequels as a whole. The thing is that DLF are essentially telling a straightforward story that they’re trying to make captivatingly convoluted. And not just make, but keep this appearance over four years. And this is... a narrative teeth crasher. Like, when you’re honest about the endgame (in the context of the most structural meanings of comedy and tragedy), you can maintain a decorum, though you can also play with it, of course, whereas when you don’t want to be honest about the endgame, you end up mixing the styles somewhat messily. You can’t break or discuss with the rules without acknowledging them, so to speak. Because the originals were honest about the happy/hopeful endgame (the first episode is title A New Hope ffs), they could allow themselves deeply tragic moments like Larses’ deaths, Han getting frozen, destruction of Alderaan, etc. Because the prequels were open about being a tragedy, they could allow themselves lighthearted comic relief for the sake of lighthearted comic relief. 

The sequels... badly want us to consider the possibility of FO winning and Ben dying unredeemed while simultaneously insisting we root for those things not happening, while appearing conscious we’re definitely not buying the former and the latter only somewhat. And it’s tiresome. Dishonest. And indeed, bland. If the story is a tragedy it will be a bloodcurdlingly real one, if it’s a comedy it will be a borderline grotesque one. 

But yeah, returning to Rey, I guess as the main character she’s a lens which focuses the above problems. A very bitter tragedy of what her parents did t her prevents her from being comfortably comical whereas whoohooos I like thats and prancing like a husky on red bull over idols and visions because it’s for children so it must be hopeful prevents her from being intriguingly tragical. So I guess the intentioned effect was tragicomism but, from pov of an engaged casual fan that is my bro, it’s neither. 

As far as Rey’s heroine’s journey lacking some of the usual elements, I blame it on Disney being... a bit too ambitious, maybe. I think they tried to make a heroine’s journey that isn’t ostentaciously seeped in traditional feminine/masculine traits, maintains the structure without what could be called accidentals. On the one hand, I would point out that hero’s journey has pretty much desexualised itself over time, we are rather accustomed to “shero’s” journeys, but on the other... maybe Disney set out on a too novel a territory and may crack their teeth on it, alongside trying to out-Vader Vader at redemption. To elucidate, “toxic femininity” in which a heroine is supposed to find herself in the beginning of her journey, in Rey’s case is uprooted from any of our usual concepts of feminine-masculine social roles (it’s space, duh). My interpretation is that Rey’s version of toxic femininity kind of exists in contrast with Kylo Ben’s version of toxic masculinity - and since the apparent focus of the story is the attitude towards the past/parent figures, toxic femininity would mean her clutching onto the past. Which is why I predict that some act of IX will find Rey inebriated with apparent success in masculine world, meaning she’ll be the one rejecting the old gods this time - and I would point out that panel in Poe comic where she shows herself more sceptical towards idolisation of past don’t mind me, I’m just expressingmy trash dreams for a proper sith lady Rey.

Then again, Rian Johnson said she already found perfect balance between Luke’s clinginess and Kylo’s rejection of the past, so... idk, maybe I’m giving DLF too much credit again.

As for the Persephone thing, I guess the rub is that this reylo reading focuses less on the traditional reading of the myth (where Demeter is the actual main character and Kore is a Princess Peach MacGuffin) and more of an interpretation of it as one of the eldest (at least in Europe) versions of story depicting a transition of a girl into a woman, making Persephone more of a protagonist. 

Like, y’know, this Persephone (D. G. Rosetti, source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Proserpine_(Rossetti_painting))

I’m no expert, but myths can lose their original meanings because of power relations (anyone still remember about Dionysus, the god associated with excessive drinking, going through a very Christ-like death and resurrection?) and I think it’s possible that this is the case with the story of Persephone becoming a pre-scientific explanation of seasons changing over the year. So teah, that’s how I always understood the Persephone theme regarding Rey.

But yes, I must agree that I’m confused about Disney’s handling of the mother figure, which... Look, SW became a legend of a modern myth because of how epically Lucas handled the hero dealing with his very explicit father. So yes, I don’t understand what exactly is their game with Rey Nobody from Nowhere in this regard. It’s one thing that they had a cool idea with giving her no lineage, another that parent figures are an essential element of archetypal journeys and from symbolic viewpoint the case of a female character the biological relationship is even more crucial than in male’s. And I swear to all the ewoks and porgs in the galaxy, I do hope Disney’s idea of Rey healing the mother/daughter divide isn’t through her healing the divide between Leia and Ben. Again, this isn’t the idealistic sphere. Just... no. 

Anyway, I still maintain hope (this whole meta blog is built on hope) that Rey will indeed turn out to have a proper personal mistake which will make her stand out in the saga. I do have to admit, though, that I find your last theory very likely. I mean, even when I read all the reylo metas going oh, Rey is going to have such an exciting arc in IX, she has so much to deal with though of course it’s not going to compromise her morally, it will be sooo exciting, I just... f*ck’s sake, what you’re describing isn’t a dramatic character only a dramatised role model. It’s great if that’s your thing, but don’t claim it is space opera-worthy, in operas people drown themselves because of cursed sailors, kill over a break up, decapitate over a bad dream and get dragged to hell over a dinner, not persuade their fallen lovers to change their ways, let alone patienly wait for them the understand the error of their ways (and if they do it’s doomed to end in someone dying).

[sieben9]

“the garden of forking paths” impressions

{Quick request to anyone reading: I’m watching OUaT for the first time, and I want to avoid spoilers. So, if you want to discuss something spoilery, I’d be grateful if you could start a new post for that. Thank you!}

Today on Once Upon a Time: Resist!

The new alliance against Belfrey is taking some (very) tentative steps to ruin her day, and in the flashback, something very similar is happening. Only with better organisation and a lot more leather.

please understand that this is the opposite of me complaining

Also, while I liked this episode well enough, the last two minutes or so kind of stole the whole entire show. Just saying.

We finally get some villain motivation!

And it is depressing as hell!

Yes, it also makes Belfrey immediately more interesting, but just… dead child. That’s dark. And apparently, Ella is in some way responsible for that. I assume it’s along the lines of snow being “responsible” for Daniel’s death, but she clearly still blames herself. Enough that one Tremaine offers that terrible deal, she’s ready to take it and become a murderer, rather than asking for help.

This scene also works on another level, in that it shows how well Tremaine knows Ella and knows which buttons to push to make her cooperate. It’s unsettling in a way that’s different from the direct “do this or everyone dies” ultimatum.

The fact that Ella agrees shows more than anything how incredibly alone she has been, and for a very long time. She doesn’t even think to ask for help, because she’s certain that she doesn’t deserve it. And even if she did, who would help her? Nobody ever has so far.

I think that’s why Henry has such trouble getting through to her. It’s hard to believe that someone only has your best interest in mind, despite barely knowing you, when the world so far just been horrible to you. Even Tiana and her resistance never did anything to help her, and citing “not enough evidence” seems late just a tiny bit of a lame excuse.

And it’s all the more reason why loved Regina coming in at the last moment to stop Ella from doing something she won’t be able to take back. Even if Ella doesn’t know the details, it’s clear that Regina’s advice comes from hard-earned experience. She knows exactly what she’s talking about, and she’s not willing to let someone else walk down that path without at least offering them away out.

(I also have wonder what might be going through Regina’s head, here. Because Ella’s situation, despite some superficial similarities with her own past, is much closer to Snow’s side of their story. I don’t really have a line of argument here, it’s just something I like to think about.)

A very similar situation arises between Jacinda and Roni, too, and it’s a great example of the thing the modern-day plotline does best this episode; the actual  plot itself is OK-ish, but the moments between characters stand out. Each of them makes me care more about these characters, even though I know they are cursed and not entirely themselves.

The modern-day story does good things, too, not least of them making the characters appear like real people that I care about. Even if they’re all cursed and not really themselves.

A short but effective scene in this vein was the one between Jacinda and Sabine. It established the stakes for the episode (more on that later), and it showed that these two are truly friends, not just roommates who mostly get along with each other. This also nicely parallels with the flashback, where we finally get to see Tiana in an actual speaking role. I think the modern-day plot is giving us him still how this relationship will develop in the flashback.

(And in an unrelated question: does anyone have the ship name for them? Look, I love me some glass believer, and these two are wonderful as friends, but also... ::gestures helplessly::)

Back with our conspirators, I giggled about Henry being research guy (look, Belle isn’t around, you’ll just have to make do), but maybe Rogers shouldn’t be the eye on the street either, because he cannot lie. At all.

Actually, as I said in the post that tumblr ate (seriously, I swear I posted this while watching and I cannot find the thing for the life of me), nobody on this show can lie for shit. None of them. And when they do, they only ever get away with it, because everybody else is crap at lying, too, and have no idea how to spot it. The only reason Rumple’s lies ever work is that he is the only one with a decent poker face. He’s still bad at lying, he just doesn’t telegraph it!

And speaking of Rumple/Weaver (please, show, help me out here): I am about 60% sure that he’s working against Belfrey, but please don’t ask me what his endgame is, because I just do not know. Right now, I mostly feel reminded of that season 1 exchange with Emma. I don’t know if he’s working with Belfrey or against her. Probably diagonally, or something. And yes, I’ll keep working on that, thank you.

look at that smug lil’ shit, though

The whole thing with the corrupt building official seemed a bit... well, it’s either a waste of time or brilliant foreshadowing, and I won’t know until later. Because on its face, it didn’t show me much that I didn’t already know. Rogers has a strong moral compass, Weaver doesn’t, and he’s playing his own game.

OK, unpopular opinion time! (Maybe)

I loved that Jacinda burned those petitions.

No, wait, hear me out! Not because I thought “yes, petitions are stupid anyway” or “yes, this is the right thing to do!” I absolutely think it was wrong of her. It was a moment of weakness, and it was presented as such. But it was also honest to her character. At the beginning of the episode, she tells us what her priorities are. It’s not fighting against her stepmother, it’s getting her daughter back. Being apart from Lucy is her worst-case scenario and it’s killing her. So when Belfrey offers her everything she once, plus a good place for her child to live, free of worries about rent (which obviously occupy a lot of her time right now)… I don’t know, Jacinda, as she has been portrayed so far, is not the person who would just turn that offer down. She has a deeply selfish streak when it comes to her daughter, and I think it’s one of the things that makes her interesting.

Of course, she then realises that in doing so she has alienated Lucy, and disappointed her deeply.

<SADLUCY>

And that is what makes her realise that if she is going to help with this, she cannot just think of herself. Lucy expects her mum to be a hero, and I think this is the point where Jacinda realises that she herself also wants to be one. And all of that culminates in the heartfelt if a little cheesy speech near the end. (Also, I will totally admit that I loved seeing the community come together against Belfrey in this way. Look, sometimes you just want some heartwarming fluff, no strings attached.)

Compared to all of that, Lucy finding that bit of the glass slipper together with Henry seemed almost like an afterthought. Though I do love how Henry has basically already adopted her, and quite independently from his feelings for her mother. My guy, have such excellent news for you. Of course, then the end of the episode happens, and…

please do not with your face, sir

That was evil. That was so not OK, Belfrey, I don’t even know where to start. And you know what? This won’t magically get better once he gets his memories back, because this grief and heartbreak will still have happened. I think it’s sometimes easy to think that the curse-memories aren’t real and therefore don’t count, but the emotions people feel due to these memories still are. I know the show never really goes into this, but this stuff still changes your entire brain chemistry. Even when he wakes up and knows it as fake, Henry will always live with the trauma of grieving for his dead wife and child, even though they never existed.

I don’t know, it’s just really messed up and I wanted to get into it a little.

And going off that graveyard scene… holy crap, that stinger! There’s a lot to unpack, starting with “clearly, Tremaine’s policy on magic is less a rule and more a very loose guideline.”

Also, Belfrey seems to know who she is and might just be the person who cast the curse, after all. I remain unconvinced because if it were that easy, we would have seen her do it by now, but she’s back on the list of suspects.

And speaking of suspect things:

Wooooow.

I mean. There is some capital-H History here. And whatever happened between these two, they’re both still pissed. Probably for different reasons. The fact that Belfrey (or Tremaine, really) basically goes to her for advice, no matter how much she dresses it up as a demand, suggests some kind of mentor/student relationship gone awry.

After a little brainstorming session with @idesignedthefjords, we narrowed the woman with the enormous hair in Belfrey’s “tower” down to either Rapunzel or the weird witch who thought a newborn was a reasonable price to ask for a couple of vegetables. (The latter of which would beg the question what, precisely, happened to Rapunzel)

Then again, this is Once, so she could be either, both, or someone completely different. My vote is for the mom in The Juniper Tree, because my vote is always for more mentions of that particular wtf-ery. (Seriously, google that if you don’t know what it is.)

So, Tremaine is not actually interested in keeping the curse a secret. Quite the opposite, in fact. She needs true belief in magic to wake up/reanimate her daughter, and getting it will destroy the person she takes it from.

I love this. So much. Because it lends a whole new layer of tension to the curse-breaking plot. Yes, of course I want all these people to become their true selves again, but I don’t want Tremaine to profit from that. Especially not if it hurts one of the people have already come to like. I am really conflicted, and I love it.

To come back to the topic of the curse for a moment… what’s really missing right now is a possible motive. If Tremaine is the one who cast it, then it would be because she thinks for some ungodly reason that her daughter can be revived more easily in the Land Without Magic. Which seems doubtful at best.

It could be Tower Lady, but if so, she either messed up royally or is playing a seriously complicated long game. Always a possibility, but again: motive. I need one.

There’s always the possibility that someone completely different cast it, but I doubt it was one of the heroes, and there’s just not enough information on the remaining cast to tell either way. (Technically, Rumple would qualify, but I refuse to contemplate a reality where that is the reason Belle isn’t around. That is the Hell Angst, and we are not going there, thank you very much.)

[mst3kproject]

509: The Girl in Lover’s Lane

           This is a movie about drifters, which works, because the story just kind of drifts.

           A kid named Danny has decided to run away from home and be a hobo in order to make his parents sorry for getting a divorce.  He’s inexperienced at hoboing, so finds an older, more experienced hobo named Biggs, who promises to show him the ropes of hobohood in return for Danny paying all his bills.  The pair stop in a town called Sherman, where Biggs falls in love with Carrie the waitress in between repeatedly saving Danny from his own stupidity.  Just when Biggs is on the verge of throwing in the hobo towel and settling down, Carrie is murdered and the town decides her boyfriend must’ve done it, despite the guy with the big neon STALKER! sign over his head who’s been hanging around for the whole movie.

           When I say this movie drifts, it’s because it seems to take a while for it to make up its mind whose story this is.  The first bit, where Biggs saves Danny from some thugs at the railway yard, makes it look like we’re about to see a movie about naïve little Danny learning to survive in the big wide world.  Biggs teaches him to hitchhike, to fight, to avoid sketchy hookers, and everything else a good hobo needs to know.  Danny doesn’t get a lot of character development, though, so as long as we assume the movie is about him, stuff just seems to be happening at random.  When it finally settles down to being about Biggs, the audience has to stop and re-examine the first half to figure out what we were supposed to be paying attention to.

           I’m not going to pretend for a minute that The Girl in Lover’s Lane is anything but boring and sexist, or that it’s ending isn’t a lousy, gratuitous downer.  It does seem to have a few things to say, though, so I’m going to focus on that because it’ll be less depressing.  The biggest ‘lesson’ of this movie, the one that qualifies as the Moral of the Story and probably the one writer Joyce Heims had in mind, is that you can’t run away from your problems.

           Of three relatively main characters in this story, all of them are trying to escape from something.  Biggs had a tough childhood and doesn’t believe he’s capable of leading a normal life, so he hit the road and never looked back.  Danny loves his parents but feels overwhelmed by the emotions attendant upon their divorce, so he hopped a train.  Carrie is lonely and tired of Jesse the Stalker leering at her.  She hopes that Biggs will either take her away or else settle down with her, either offering her a way out.  At the end, Carrie’s problems catch up with her anyway, Biggs realizes that his running is a problem in itself, and Danny decides to go home and face his troubles like an adult.  They can’t be said to have lived happily ever after because this isn’t that kind of movie, but everybody gets a second chance at things.  Except of course for Carrie, because she’s dead, but she was a girl so she doesn’t count.

           This is also a movie about father-child relationships.  Biggs and Danny both have backstories that hinge on their relationships with their fathers.  Carrie’s father is a major figure in her life, both parent and employer. Biggs becomes a father figure to Danny, while one of the reasons he doesn’t want to commit to his relationship with Carrie is because her father’s drinking reminds him of his own father’s behaviour.

           Because I wasn’t sure whose story The Girl in Lover’s Lane was, it took me a while to key in on just what the relationship between Biggs and Danny was supposed to be.  A lot of MSTies find it homoerotic, as did the Brains themselves. It can be read that way, but I think it’s intended to be that of father and son.  Danny, who has purposefully left his parents, finds he still needs a guiding figure in his life, and so he latches on to Biggs.  Biggs does not initially want to take Danny in, but having done so he rises to this responsibility as best he can.  His efforts to make sure Danny doesn’t get robbed are partly selfish, in that Danny is carrying the money, but there is a protective streak in Biggs that Danny brings out.  This then extends to Carrie, whom Biggs does his best to protect from Jesse.

           The weird little interlude with the prostitute in the bathtub makes the best sense when considered in this light.  Biggs is offered a pleasurable distraction but turns it down because he needs to rescue Danny.  The placement of the scene after he’s met Carrie means it also represents the beginnings of devotion to her alone, although it’s Danny who is foremost in his mind at the moment.  It’s not as effective as it might be, since we’re left to imagine what Biggs might have done in the same situation a week ago, but it does its job.  It’s still a weird little interlude, though.  Why is the bathroom right off the foyer?  Why wasn’t the door locked?  Are customers supposed to just walk in and ‘catch’ a girl bathing as part of some weird live-out-your-fantasy scenario?

           Biggs’ backstory tells us that his father was an abusive drunk, but also that Biggs blames himself for the man’s fatal heart attack.  There is also a suggestion that the reason Biggs never stays in one place long enough to get attached to anything is because he fears that if he were to have a family, he would end up continuing the cycle of abuse. Danny is a surrogate son that Biggs can ditch at any time, so he is, in a sense, able to ‘practice’ having a family without actually committing to one.  He finds he is able to be a better father figure to this younger man than his own father was to him, and that gives him the courage to start to think about settling down.

           After Carrie’s death, Biggs finds himself confronted by her furious and grieving father, who wants nothing more than to beat the shit out of a kid he believes to be a murderer.  Biggs takes every punch and never fights back, too afraid that if he does, this man will drop dead as his own father did.  And finally, when he agrees to go home with Danny at the end, he is accepting a new father figure into his life.  Presumably Danny’s dad will help Biggs get his life together, but by now we’ve also seen Danny grow up enough that he can start offering Biggs advice, which Biggs rejects as if he is the rebellious son in the relationship.  Danny also arrives in the nick of time to save Biggs from Carrie’s father and his friends, so in a sense the tables have turned and Danny has now become a father to Biggs.

           While all this fairly complex stuff goes on with the men, Carrie herself is mere fridge meat – she’s only here so that Biggs can fall in love with her and then cry when she dies, and Tom and Crow are righteously angry about this (so angry, in fact, that they invent fanfiction!).  She does have a bit of an arc of her own, though, and it’s nice that we meet her before Biggs does and get a sense of what her world would be like without him.  She has female friends, though all we ever see her talk to them about is men.  She loves her father, but she’s vaguely discontent with her life and tired of people telling her that all her problems will be solved by the right boy.

           When the ‘right boy’ comes along, Carrie positively throws herself at him, but we’re actually given a reason why.  Part of it probably has to do with the fact that she’s been told all her life that marriage is the answer to everything, but a lot of it seems to be related to the presence of Jesse, the creepy pervert whose ‘village idiot’ status allows him to get away with things he actually does know better than. Nobody in Carrie’s life takes Jesse’s threatening presence seriously, but Biggs is willing to stand up to him, so Carrie tries desperately hard to be what Biggs will want.  She goes so far as to apologize when the dress she wears to their date doesn’t look like the one he pictured!

           Carrie’s death does tie into the themes of the movie, I guess.  I mean, Biggs tries to run away from her like he runs away from everything else, and therefore another reason he doesn’t fight back against the vigilante mob is because he really does feel like he’s responsible.  He failed to protect her when she needed him.  Carrie, too, is running away, having gone into the woods to have some privacy while she bawls her broken heart out.  The reason Danny isn’t there to help either of them is because he has, on Biggs’ advice and against his own better judgment, already left town.  Once again, running away causes everybody more problems than it solves.

           So while The Girl in Lover’s Lane is not a good movie, it is at least a unified one.  Heims and director Charles Rondeau knew how to tell a story – they just didn’t pick a very good one to tell.  That’s not always a handicap, since a gifted storyteller can turn cliché dross into literary gold in other ways.  Look at some of the contrived crap in Shakespeare!  The Bard could probably have made a plot like The Girl in Lover’s Lane into art, but nobody involved in this movie was anywhere near that level.  The technical aspects of the film are mediocre at best.  The acting is pretty unsubtle.  The lighting does its job.  The direction’s all right.  The sets are mostly okay, apart from that obvious studio set of ‘the woods’ that can only be filmed from one angle.  None of it is good enough to save the story from its own banality, and so here it is, on a screen in front of a dude and his robots.

[fineillsignup]

Heart Under A Blade, please! :D

Heart Under a Blade partisans have been so patient, even though I focused on Your Most Important Person instead. I’m working on HUAB and definitely plan to get its next chapter out before YMIP gets updated again. I may or may not release a Mada//Saku that I’m working on first, and also some DW fanfic, but anyway, I promise that I’m moving HUAB toward the top of my writing priorities.

In the meantime, I hope a teaser will be welcomed. Context: this is the scene where Kakashi suggests Jiraiya’s code is from Icha Icha Tactics, and Shiho orders Kakashi to read the sentences.

Shiho clears her throat. “We’ll start with the first word on the indicated page of the book, but we should have it in context, so Hatake-san, please read the whole sentence.”

“N-now?”

“Yes, of course!”

Kakashi stares at the roomful of expectant ninja, the cryptographers, Shikamaru, Naruto.

Kakashi taught his students a lot about looking underneath the underneath.

What he didn’t get to—mostly because he really was a rotten teacher, as his former students’ immediate exponential blossoming under new teachers proved—was the next step for shinobi who have mastered looking at the overlooked.

“Today’s training!” said Minato-sensei brightly. “Find, obtain, and deliver. Rin-chan, I want you to bring me this leaf.” He held up a large oak leaf with a single large insect bite dead centre. “Obito-kun, this flower.” The flower was wilting strangely, half rotten and half fresh. “Kakashi-kun, this mushroom.” A fat white mushroom with a single red spot.

Kakashi remembers scowling, irritated that he was going to be slowed down once again by his deadweight team. Rin, at least, would accept his help in finding her leaf, but Obito would probably refuse on principle.

“I’ll leave these here.” Minato-sensei gestured to the three botanical items on top of the stump. “Now I want these exact items—this shape, this size, exactly these items in every way, understand? I won’t accept anything less. There are no other rules! I’ll be at Training Ground Seven.” He waved and body-flickered away.

Kakashi didn’t remember much of the actual, grinding, tedious, and ultimately fruitless search for a match. He had tried clones, he was pretty sure, and he thought Obito had attempted to use his fire jutsu to burn a hole in a leaf to match Rin’s target, but only succeeded in nearly setting his own arm ablaze, of course. Not like a burned hole would look like an insect hole anyway…

Minato-sensei was sweaty but still maddeningly cheerful when he came back to their area of the forest. “What a great day for a work-out!” he called. “But you all failed your assignment?”

His three students stared at him—sheepish Rin, Obito sucking on a burnt finger, Kakashi outwardly indifferent but inwardly crawling with shame.

“Nobody thought to just bring me these, huh?” Their teacher tapped on the stump.

Three mouths, one hidden by a mask, fell open.

Minato-sensei laughed. “I expected failure, don’t worry. Actually, in some ways, it means you’re good shinobi. You’re all very good at looking underneath the underneath, very diligent, very obedient, very mission-focused… but don’t forget about the best place to hide something from a typical ninja…” He picked up the leaf and looked through the hole with one eye. “In plain sight.”

In the present, everyone is staring at him as his face gets hotter and hotter.

“I told you wanted these items, but because I just put them down, you all assumed they couldn’t really be the items. You all assumed that I didn’t mean my plain meaning. Now, can you imagine the possibilities here?”

“What are you waiting for?!” Naruto face contorts with rage as sweat beads on Kakashi’s bright red face.

Kakashi remembers being a teenager, desperate to get away to a fantasy place, to escape being himself, compulsively reading romance novels. A huge, obvious, glaring vulnerability. And he knew it, he knew it right away, and he was surrounded always by other shinobi, so the best way to hide this vulnerability…

“Hound, get your nose out of your smut, the target will be here in less than an hour,” Owl snickered.

Kakashi turned a page and said nothing. He was there in body with his fellow ANBU, but he was also far, far away, with a beautiful woman who was just about to seduce a grieving widower, giving him comfort, pleasure, hope, life.

“That guy is so cold,” complained Rabbit. “He’s like a machine, he doesn’t care about anything. Reading a disgusting book like that in public.”

…was to make his compulsive habit as obvious as possible.

But hiding in plain sight has one serious drawback. If the observer ever does twig on, it’s all over.

“Do it!” Naruto growls.

It comes out of Kakashi like it’s being dragged out of him with a hook. “Do… you… really… love me?”

It’s humiliating. It’s agonizing. He would rather chew and swallow glass than recite these phrases of romance and connection.

When it’s over, he’s a sweaty, numb mess. Only muscle memory is keeping him clinging to the windowsill. Slowly, slowly, sense and feeling returns as he realizes that the urgent problem of Jiraiya-sama’s code has got them all focused on it. Even when they were listening to him, they weren’t thinking of him and what the words meant in their plain meaning; only their meaning for the code.

He’s escaped, he’s escaped.