#impressively somehow he’s on his own two feet . Nothing if not resilie(he has passed out by now)

[ambyandony]

Best part of a slightly raunchy squatizi sketch collection:

absolute lose lose situation, tiziano is a fucking horrible driver

[7spaceace7]

By Fireflies’ Glow (Bagginshield)

Soooo I made a Bagginshield fic based off of this post and it’s on my Ao3 if you prefer to read it there, but here it is! The firefly scene didn’t make it into the movie’s cuts, so I made it myself and made it gay for good measure.

Word count: 2237

Warnings: None, unless you count unreasonable amounts of pining

Rivendell’s magnificence only extended into the evening, after the last light of day passed over the mountains surrounding it. Streaming waterfalls cascaded over the cliffs below, leading into rivers and streams down past the elven borders. Dusk crept up on Eastern skies in parallel to the setting sun, until the moon above followed its path high into the sky. Where there was sunlight cast into the water, silver moonlight now shone upon its surface. Bilbo had never seen an evening so beautiful, not in all his years. 

The beauty of Rivendell had so captured him that the hobbit had spent nearly all his time wandering about the kingdom. While his dwarrow companions dined together, Bilbo explored the main halls of Rivendell, and the hobbit was quick to continue his self-guided tour just after Thror’s map had been translated. There was no doubt that Bilbo had fallen in love with the Valley of Imladris. He had to see as much as he could before their journey picked up once more.

At least, that was his excuse to distract from the real reason he had put distance between himself and the others. In truth, he did not feel welcome at their table. Bilbo was acutely aware of his outsider status to the dwarves; he may have been a contracted burglar of this company, but the hobbit knew he was still viewed as little more than a burdensome stranger without any experience of the larger world. The worst part was that he couldn’t blame them.

It was no secret he was inexperienced. What he had in his skills of gardening and baking (the best cakes from scratch in the Shire, you see), he lacked in the practical adventuring repertoire of sword fighting and travelling across Middle Earth. He was a Baggins of Bag-End after all, such respectable hobbits didn’t just up and leave on journeys with strange dwarves who ate his pantry stock.

But then, Bilbo supposed he wasn’t a respectable hobbit anymore. He had left that title behind as soon as he grabbed his signed contract and rushed out of his rounded door all that time ago. Instead, he was a member of a perilous quest to slay a dragon and reclaim a dwarven kingdom. However, the title of “adventurer” didn’t seem to belong to him either. 

Another rounded corner of the path led Bilbo to find himself back where his exploration had started in the gardens. He hadn’t meant to come this way again, but it seemed his feet had started wandering on their own when the hobbit became lost in doubt. Bilbo didn’t mind, though. 

The gardens of the elves were some of the most enchanting he’d ever seen. Hedges encircled the area, trees sprung up their lanky limbs that seemed to welcome all who ventured there. It was well-kept, organized, and filled with flowers of all colors he’d only ever seen in books. The colors seemed to glow by moonlight as well, transforming into translucent blues, purples, and greens. Bilbo used to daydream about places like these from reading his books, wondering what it would be like to live in a place where such beautiful things can grow. Lord Elrond’s offer of staying in Rivendell returned to his mind.

“Master Baggins,” Came the rough voice of Thorin Oakenshield, pulling the hobbit from his thoughts in surprise. Bilbo’s head turned to see that the gardens had already been occupied by said dwarven king, who sat upon the backless, stone-carved bench alone. He held an expression that Bilbo could not place. At the least, it was not a glare or look of disdain toward him as usual. “I was beginning to think you’d run off. You made quick leave after reading the map. You weren’t at dinner, either.”

“You’re right, I was..”The hobbit shifted to his other leg. The words didn’t find him to explain that he didn’t think himself welcome in their company. Exploring didn’t seem much like a Baggins pastime either, so Bilbo’s sentence hung unfinished. “I didn’t realize someone else was here. I expect you wish to be left alone, I’ll take my leave-”

“The others are resting,” Thorin said before Bilbo could take even a step away. His gaze turned away from the hobbit and back to the open trees. “I couldn’t find sleep.”

“...So you came here?” 

Thorin bowed his chin in a nod. The halfling recalled many sleepless nights of his own being comforted by the fresh air found in his garden back home. He allowed himself to wonder if this was something he and the dwarf had in common.

“I never took you for a lover of nature.”

Perhaps on better terms, Thorin might have seemed amused. “I assure you, I am not. The gardens just happened to be far enough away from the sounds of Bombur’s snores.”

“I see. It is rather peaceful. In the gardens, I mean.”

“Indeed.”

Moments of silence stretched between the unlikely pair while the two admired their surroundings, even if Thorin wouldn’t admit to elvish work capturing his attention. Bilbo remained awkwardly at the steps of the garden where he was first stopped. He didn’t mind standing since Hobbits had more resilience in being on their feet for long amounts of time, but to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin made room on the bench beside him. 

The halfling’s lips twitched in figuring what to say, should he say anything at all. Finally he decided that he ought to try and test the waters. If Thorin was offering him a place to sit, he would take the opportunity and see where it took him. The Tookish part inside told him that this could be his chance to reconcile their strained first impressions. Bilbo walked over and took his seat at the far end of the bench.

“I have my own garden, back in Bag-End,” He started, after the silence became too heavy to hold any longer, “You might have seen it when you arrived that night. It’s certainly not as impressive as this, but then I’m just one hobbit compared to many elves. Besides, it has all the flowers I really need, all of my favorites. The Shire has perfect weather for my hydrangeas best of all.”

The dwarf didn’t speak as he watched him ramble. Bilbo didn’t think Thorin much the type for listening about gardening techniques and therefore spared the details, but a quick glance over to the dwarf proved that he was, indeed, listening. Still silent as ever, but this was a bit different. The exiled king seemed at peace for once. Like he was grateful to hear of a hobbit’s silly affinity for plants instead of a mountain kingdom to be reclaimed.

It was a sight Bilbo found himself having trouble looking away from. He willed himself to focus on the fireflies gathering around the bushes instead. 

“Gardens were not to be found in the mountain,” Thorin’s voice softened at the mention of his old home. He always regarded the Lonely Mountain with careful, almost protective, thought. Bilbo’s eyes settled back on the dwarf and clung to every word. “Nothing grows underground, of course. No grass or soil to grow it, and there was no true light, save for the forges and fires burning.”

“None at all? Did you never go outside..?” Bilbo asked. He had known dwarves were the type to mostly stay underground, but such a concept still seemed so foreign to him. Hobbits were known to spend practically all of their time outdoors, and there was light everywhere he could remember. Thorin, however, shook his head.

“Dwarves in that time were born into the darkness of caves. They grew used to seeing rock instead of sky, and I was no different. From the moment I could walk, my time was devoted to training, watching my grandfather as he ruled so I could one day take his place. Learning of the kingdom and its people, of how to protect and serve them, everything a young prince must know,” Thorin explained. His eyes cast toward the ground as he hunched over, deep in thought. It seemed a painful memory sprung from his words without his meaning to. “There was no time for anything but such duties, especially as my grandfather’s health began to fail...” 

Thorin trailed off with regret held in his eyes. 

“There was little I knew of the world outside of Erebor’s halls, and that’s how it would have stayed were it not for the snake residing there now,” The exiled king finished with bitten words. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry to hear it.” 

“I have no need of your pity,” Thorin’s words were said without malice. Instead, they were filled with shame, like he believed he did not deserve sympathy. Like this horror was his fault, somehow. “Especially from someone who knows a very different life.”

“Actually, it doesn’t sound completely different.” 

The dwarf’s taken aback look was all he needed to continue.

“I mean, I certainly wasn’t an heir to a kingdom, but in the Shire you didn’t go much of anywhere else. Sometimes to Bree if you were the type, but that would get you odd looks from the rest of town, and by no means were you considered the respectable sort. In fact, I’m sure by now I’ve probably been declared mad beyond all reason, going off on adventures with strange dwarves and a wizard.”

The light brown curls framing Bilbo’s face bounced when he chuckled. Thorin found himself wondering why he noticed this. 

“Hobbits simply don’t care much for learning what outside the Shire borders holds. We don’t get visitors, and we don’t do any visiting of our own. So..I suppose in that regard, I understand not knowing much else but what expectations you’ve been born to,” Bilbo finished with a hesitant smile. It was a smile simply for Thorin in that moment, reserved for his eyes and his eyes alone. And yet, the dwarf looked away, startled by its intimacy.

“I see both our clans have deemed us mad, then,” Thorin said, clearing his throat to hide the sudden topic shift.

“How do you mean?”

“The other dwarrow leaders called our quest a fool’s death sentence. I made mention of it before we left your home, but in truth they did not use as-- encouraging-- words as I led the others to believe,” The words of mockery bounced back bitterly to the forefront of his mind. “They believe we won’t make it alive to even reach the mountain. It is why we take on this task alone.”

Bilbo’s mouth twitched in thought again. “Well,” He began, “Perhaps they’re right.”

Thorin’s shock bubbled up instantly, paired with a list of insults in Khuzdul that he had half a mind to repeat from the aforementioned dwarrow council. The hobbit knew that look and raised his arms in defense.

“What I mean to say is, yes, perhaps you won’t reach the mountain, perhaps that’s how we’re fated to finish, but,” Bilbo took a breath, calmed his nerves, “It is still a noble cause to see through the end. And I know each of those who’ve followed you this far would agree. Anyone who doubts you hasn’t got the courage to see it as such.”

Thorin’s eyes softened. He looked down at the smaller creature, such a curious thing by anyone’s standards. A hobbit of the Shire, fond of books, green gardens, and the comforts of home, and yet it is he who has remedied his doubts of his birthright. 

“...Thank you.”

Bilbo simply nodded. Even if he himself wasn’t fit for this journey, he truly did hope these dwarves would succeed. They’d all lost so much when their home was taken from them. Especially Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, who’d braved unfathomable death and destruction and still stood, facing up against an almost impossible task. And here he was, thanking a small hobbit for mere words. 

Their lives could not be more different-- and still, they were familiar. 

A soft, shining glow from the middle of the garden grove brought their attention away from one another. Dozens and dozens of fireflies had snuck their way closer and completely surrounded the pair on the bench. Their patterns blinked and glimmered for all to see, with shimmering water nearby to exemplify the view. Thorin, surprisingly, was the one captivated most. His cobalt blue eyes shimmered from their reflection, trained on their light.

“Perhaps you were right. About us being raised too differently,” The hobbit mused. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the king become a prince again. “I don’t remember being so enthralled by the nightly fireflies.”

Thorin chuckled. A small, but genuine, bout of humor. Honestly, it almost shocked  Bilbo into the next age.

“Forgive me. I suppose I just never stopped to notice them before. Not in all my journeys across Middle Earth,” His smile lingered. Bilbo’s brightened. 

They held such a gaze for some time in comfortable silence. At first meeting, Thorin had sized up the simple hobbit for a commoner, unfit for the wilds of the journey the company had planned to cross. And perhaps that was still the case. Only time would tell if Bilbo was truly a loyal member of this quest, but for now, they had this moment to share.

That is, until Gandalf’s voice was heard passing along the bridge mentioning the dwarven king by name.

[graphicabyss]

Avalanche and the Fallout

So, last time I commented on Tegoshi’s tell-all book and now it’s released and the damage is done. Such an appropriate name seeing as avalanches are sudden and destroy everything in their path. As I read the book and the related news, I struggled with both the need to convey how I felt and stop giving him so much time and attention. Sure enough, I ended up with a long review/analysis/bitching post. It's rough and mean and very long so please read at your own risk.

Facts first. The book released on Aug 5 was originally supposed to run 10,000 copies but they reportedly increased it to 50,000 due to high demand. Tegoshi also held a press-conference to talk about it on release day. It ended up being one of the best-selling books on Amazon and top seller in Entertainment.

It’s hard to talk about the book briefly. It’s 270 pages long and I had absolutely no intention to read it all but still ended up reading a good deal and words just kept pouring out of me. I could not imagine how much this book would fuck me up. I knew it would be bad but honestly I was shocked about the publication because it’s both incredibly cruel to so many people and incredibly stupid as it’s going to severely damage his reputation and future career.

I won’t even try to pretend to be objective because there’s nothing objective about the book itself. It’s a book of unsolicited opinions. If there’s one word I’d to describe it it’s ‘delusional’. Every chapter reeks of vanity and a sense of superiority as he judges every single celebrity he came in contact with and gives plenty of advice. It's a mess of careless words hastily and haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to let the world know the Real Tegoshi.

Of course, that's not how he sees it. He mentions the likes of Steve Jobs and Bill Gates saying their books give people motivation and inspiration and he wanted to do the same. Bitch, you haven't done anything to get you on that level yet.

There’s a video on his channel where he goes to the publisher to talk about the book and while he says about sending an inspirational message, the publisher only wants him to talk about Yukirin and other juicy gossip. And it’s not like poor Tegoshi was tricked into it, he readily agreed to it and he knew full well what he was doing. The book’s cover does not advertise life advice, it advertises celebrity gossip. Also nudes, which by the way, turned out to be mere topless shots. Add false advertising to the list of offenses. He really gave Bunsun a run for their money discussing half his scandals and even adding some extra. He keeps saying he only wants to clear up the rumours but somehow ends up saying things that make absolutely no difference or even make him look worse. It's like if Bunshun said "Tegoshi was partying with 5 younger women, ran around naked and then passed out drunk" and Tegoshi would be like "That's not true! There were 4 women!"

He also said he absolutely could not hide how he truly felt. And that seems to make sense except it’s one thing to just be honest and reveal some of your relevant thoughts in a carefully worded manner. But this is another thing entirely. It’s some kind of emotional exhibitionism, a compulsory desire to share his every thought and opinion on everything and everyone. Dear, there is middle ground between hiding how you really feel and giving your every single opinion. That doesn't make you honest. It makes you an asshole.

The book is divided into small chapters and most are about NEWS, past and present members and related topics, as well as most other JE artists. Some chapters are about the women he had or did not have relations with. Some are about the people he admires and his delusional plans for the future. Only a small number of chapters do not mention any names and talk about his personal experiences and thoughts.

At this point, I do not even have all the scans but I have more than enough to go off the parts I read. First off, I am now allergic to the word ‘positive’ and the phrase ‘as a man’. What the fuck does that even mean? Also, a lot of the stuff he says in the book is not new in any way and was either said before or known through other sources or rumours. There are hardly any shocking revelations anywhere, at least if you were following him as closely as I have. But hearing all these terrible opinions at once is sure a treat.

Actually, he himself described it as whining and that seems accurate because he does that for a good portion of the book, explaining how unfairly he (and other people) was treated by the industry and the press. There are many stories of hardship and resilience. There’s the good old "I suffered so much when I wasn’t the center of attention for the first time in my life”. There’s the classic “The media spreads lies about me” and other familiar narratives. Also a few tragic stories of unfulfilled love.

And not all of it is horrible. In fact, there are a few parts that I could relate to, such as the terrible way Koyama had been treated when he had to resign from ‘every’, the strange limitations for idols and how excessively strict the rules of Japanese showbiz are. But by telling those stories and complaining about JE and Japan’s entertainment industry, he is not going to make a change. All he accomplished is make things harder for himself. Bringing up the names of many artists, especially those he doesn’t even know personally, and discussing their problems is incredibly rude, intrusive and potentially damaging. Yes, the rules of Japanese entertainment suck but see how much you can achieve going against them.

And I don't like JE and not going to defend it but bitching about JE in particular is unwise for two reasons: One - not only does he owe everything to it, NEWS is still in it and what’s bad for JE is bad for NEWS. Two - JE is very powerful and has immense influence in the industry so making them your enemy when your career barely started may lead to it ending prematurely. In the end, Tegoshi Yuya’s biggest obstacle to fame isn’t JE or media. It’s Tegoshi Yuya.

It is not an autobiography book so it doesn't start with childhood. Which is a pity because I was hoping to get a glimpse of how we got to this point. There are a few clues though. 

I can tell.

Perhaps the most important chapters are those connected to his leaving the band, his reasons and motivations and that shit made me livid. He basically says that one day he imagined how awesome his solo career would be and decided he was too good to be in NEWS and the world will fall at his feet at soon as he lets it. He literally says that when he had to stay home because of the Covid-19 pandemic, he realized that God sent him a sign saying “Quickly, leave the agency!”. The pandemic is serendipity. Fuck me.

I honestly expected that the part about NEWS members at least would be nothing but praise but it also left me with very mixed feelings. First, there's a chapter "What I Told the NEWS Members" and it sounds so solemn and inspirational like "Are you sure you didn't copy that from some drama or anime? Because people do not talk like that, especially after being hit with such news." I'd love to hear their side of the story. There's also a chapter calling the members his comrades and expressing his eternal gratitude. But it's pretty clear that's not really for the members, it's to appease the fans.

There are several more chapters about the members specifically. Tegoshi has to be perfectly honest so there’s evaluation of every member, as he positions himself as the best performer by default and tells some stories that he apparently seems to think necessary to share.

For instance, there’s his story of choosing to stay in NEWS in 2011 as he told Koyashige they were miles behind Tegomass and needed to improve their singing and dancing to not drag the band down. Wait, since when can Tegoshi dance? Also the time Massu could not get a certain song right and got unresponsive as Tegoshi kept poking his mistake, so Tegoshi went berserk and thrashed Massu's things.

There is also a whole chapter about Shige and it's so weird as a former biggest Tegoshige shipper. Before I'd be happy for all the praise. Sadly, at this point if Tegoshi praises you too much it's almost a little suspicious. The whole thing is basically Tegoshi deciding that Shige is his top choice as... a man? deciding he makes the best leader and entrusting him the band. "Take care of my NEWS, Kato!" he says at the end. Fuck this shit!

Also, whatever happened to “Shige-chan?” He has made no effort to spend time with Shige out of work. And you know, they used to hang out and go on trips together when they were younger but not in recent years as Tegoshi got 'cooler' friends. I mean, his and Shige's friends probably have a 20+ difference in IQ level but still... He also only read a few of his books and unlike Massu, he does read. Mostly shitty 'how to succeed' types. All of that speaks of remarkable disinterest in Shige's actual life and thoughts.

There are several more chapters regarding NEWS as a band and what he thinks they should do and it makes me furious just talking about it. You lost any right to decide the band's future when you left them high and dry, asshole. He also claims he loves NEWS so so much and even wears the tour T-shirts (impressive!) and sings their songs in karaoke and cries! (poor thing!) On top of that he can't wait to see the STORY tour and go to see it and also broadcast it on his Youtube and do a review.......... I can't with this shit. Let's move on.

He also analyzed former members, basically calling Ryo spineless and saying he and Pi should have left sooner if they had no interest being in the band. And that’s coming from someone who tried to leave what? 4 times at least? Yes. It turns out he wanted to leave the band in 2017, in addition to 2011 and 2013. The way I see it now, 4nin NEWS was a hostage situation where Tegoshi constantly threatened to leave and other members trying to keep him happy and make him stay. He knew he was important and he got away with all kind of shit, both within the band and the agency.

In a similar manner, he takes each JE group and artist and evaluates them - what's good about it and what’s not, who’s popular and capable, what the group needs to do and so on. It’s amazingly condescending. There’s even a whole part about wanting to unite NEWS and KAT-TUN. What the fuck? Who asked you? Go film your ugly wardrobe or something.

I bet Tegoshi is so obsessed with popularity and rankings that he sees numbers over every person's and groups’ heads. Not everything in the world can be ranked and measured in numbers. He also says there are many celebrities who fucked up and acted like divas but are still popular. Way to go! Except it seems you have mistaken the order. You should succeed first, then be a dick. Also bitch, you're not Lady Gaga.

One of the biggest reasons for the anger of fans, at least the Western ones, was the way he talked about the mental issues of the former King & Prince member Iwahashi Genki and SEXY ZONE member Matsushima Sou both of whom had to step back from the industry because of their panic attacks. Even though he intended to encourage them, he expressed a fundamental misunderstanding of how panic attacks work suggesting they just had to cheer up and stay positive.

There's a whole section where he talks about a dozen female celebrities, mostly idols and actresses, dedicating a whole chapter to each. Of course, only to ‘set the record straight’. Because that’s exactly how the rumours work, you know. Particularly old ones. You tell the whole story and they go away. It's disgusting. Female artists' whole careers depend on their pure image and being associated with him can easily end it.

He also speaks of the first three girls he dated, which all sound like huge and tragic love stories as he said he loved them so much he considered marrying them but they all actually happened when he was about 16 to 20 years and after turning 20 he hasn't had a single woman that he loved that much.

And then some parts are only about himself and they are things that one should really, really keep to oneself. Nobody needs to know you drink so hard you can’t get it up. The chapter's called "I have no interest in sex" but it should really be called "I have a drinking problem". I couldn’t help but remember the scandalous article that came out in 2017 where one of his 'girl friends' sold the story of their relationship with all unsightly intimate details. I chose to defend him at the time but now I’m not even sure I can blame her. Perhaps it should be viewed as whistle-blower insider info as she warned others of what they may expect. The chapter "I have easily over a 1000 female friends" says he has this many girl contacts all over Japan and overseas but they aren't what you think they are. He only had 10 girls who he considered girlfriends, those he met 1 on 1 with. I guess the rest he just fucked so that doesn't count. Now that I think about it, I feel like 99% of all the Bunshun articles were mostly accurate.

Speaking of which... There's also a chapter where he explains why he cried during Neverland tour and he explains it by the photo with the two cons from 2011. We all know that was just a small part of it and the far bigger reason was people exposing his private messages and leaking intimate photos and stories. So much for the whole truth. Also, he whines about his reputation being hurt by the photo but has a whole chapter praising the man called Horiemon who was imprisoned for securities fraud.

There's another major revelation that shows his character. He mentions several cases where he had hissy fits in the dressing rooms, actually throwing chairs and things. Of course, for important reasons - being frustrated and angry at terrible injustices. Such as Koyama being fired from ‘every’ or him losing some parts in ChumChum after his scandal. Also the fight with Massu back in 2010 when he threw Massu’s things on the floor... It’s horrible as it is but for Massu, knowing he freaks out if you so much as breathe on his things... What a bitch.

There are also some chapters about his delusions of becoming a worldwide phenomenon but he doesn't seem to have a real plan how to achieve it. There are his ideas that are all over the place. There's the bold "Creating a new mold of entertainment" so that's producing. There's Youtube stuff. There's creating a "Tegoshi village" with ex-TOKIO Yamaguchi. He just had to pick the most problematic of his senpai. And there's an actual chapter called "Expanding to China and US Simultaneously”? Also English lessons? That all sounds very impressive, hon, but all you did so far was piggybacking on other people's fame and work. His book sold largely due to scandals and other people's names. He had a solo concert with just his NEWS solos and cover versions. And he just released a video that is an exact replica of his ItteQ segment.

One question is: how is he so confident he'll succeed fast? Well, apart form the usual delusions of grandeur. One reason for his excessive confidence is having friends in high places. At one point he's casually namedropping Abe Shinzo and the First Lady who was supposedly expected to come to the Story tour. Tegoshi said he would invite both of them to his solo concert. Yeah, I'm sure they'll come, nothing controversial about that.

I can’t imagine how it’s going to go from here but I don’t know how anyone would still want to work with him. He fucked over people he worked with for 18 years, people he claims to love, in a heartbeat so what can a new partner expect?

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

As expected by literally everyone but Tegoshi, the book made an uproar and not in a good way, with fans and agencies enraged over his words about the artists. There were many articles calling this book 'exposé book', especially focusing on him using the real names of female celebrities. Some newspapers followed up with petty articles. My favourite is an article from Tokyo Sports that specifically dug up a story that was not in the book about the way he adamantly pursued a certain female idol trying to conquer her and culminating in doing a dogeza in front of her but she still rejected him saying "Zettai yada! I will be your girlfriend number what?". Her name is not revealed, which is unfortunate, I'd like to know who that queen is.

Not all feedback was bad, of course. According to this article, many men brought it and enjoyed it. I'm sure they did. Plenty of aspirational douchebags out there. Anyway. Many fans wrote to him long angry and very detailed letters. His social media accounts have been losing followers for the past several weeks.

Perhaps the strangest thing is that he seemed genuinely surprised that instead of praise for his courage and honesty he got anger and disapproval. It wouldn't happen if he got his head out of his ass and literally asked a single one of the people he wrote about what they thought of it. 

The feedback must have been very focused as the very next day he wrote a few posts on his Twitter and Instagram indicating his concern over the feedback. On Twitter, he used the word “yacchimatta ka” as in “I messed up, didn’t I?” though stylistically I read it as “whoopsie”. Then there were two Insta stories.

2020/08/06 Ah, I'm a little tired. I'm also human. (sometimes I whine)

2020/08/06 I don't bother with those who criticize me in whatever they do. But I can't stand to see my fans, whom I treasure like my life, leave. I'm sorry. From now on, I won't whine anymore.

"I whine sometimes?" Really? that's what you call a 272 pages tell-all book? Also "I won't whine anymore"?? You think pulling off shit like that and then saying "whoopsie" is enough? It got quiet for a few days and on Aug 10 there was the apology video, which was named "This is my first and last whining". Doubt it. He uses the word ‘弱音’ which has a somewhat vague meaning, using it in an apology video in that context is confusing. Why not call apology as it is? That seems like another politician’s technique.

The apology was impressive in a way. At least it was not a blanket apology, he (or his employees) correctly identified what exactly people were mad about. He said he was really sorry for hurting his fans and causing trouble to people he wrote about. He said he understood that he doesn't have to reveal everything. He also said that he felt the love behind the anger, that fans wrote to him because they cared and were disappointed. Also said he realized that he was protected till now. It was all pretty good right until the very end when he gave a loud 'TEI!' effectively ruining the effect.

Of course, it was good that he did that but I still don't think it even began to make up for all the shit he wrote. The apology would be an adequate step after a shitty Tweet, not a fucking book. Also, I feel like more than anything he just got scared of losing his fans, maybe even sorry for hurting their feelings but not really sorry for what he did. He has no plans to change his behaviour. He wants to be at his 100% assholeness and still be adored.

Of course thousands of merciful women turned to his defence because he looked 'so sad' and even 'thinner'. That's right! He's the real victim here. Must be terrible to hear such hard criticism for the things you actually said and did.

By now I'm barely even angry anymore and a part of me feels sorry for Tegoshi. He's like a dumb spoiled child who wreaks havoc. But I have to remind myself I should not feel sorry. He is in fact an adult man of 32 who is so used he always gets his way that even a minor opposition is viewed by him as a violation of his freedom. And his charm is the very reason he always got away with all the shit he did in life up to this point. I bet he is getting a lot of hate mail and I hope his positivity prepared him for it. I remember him calling Koyama in the middle of the night to come and comfort him while he cried. Also calling Shige to come only to fall asleep in his lap. Now he's on his own. God, right now I just really wish Tegoshi would send himself to the corner and thought about what he's done. Just step aside and shut up for 5 minutes.

But he isn't gonna do it. Of course not. He had a solo concert today and is doing Youtube videos and moving even faster so that people forget about the book.

But fans never will. I can't even say if the book changed my perception or just unveiled what I knew was there all along. For years I've been discarding and questioning all the bad rumours and stories telling myself "He didn't mean it" or "That can't be true" but now it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle, and there's no need to guess anymore because he's shouting "Oh yes I fucking did and I'll do it again!"

All in all, the book paints a picture of a man who is anything but Prince Charming. It chips away any remaining illusions of a 'perfect idol' showing someone who is vain, petty, and chauvinistic. Someone who is obsessed with status and popularity so much that he is willing to sacrifice everything for it and thinks it doesn't matter how bad your reputation is as long as you succeed. Someone who is the very epitome of toxic masculinity, drinks himself to oblivion and treats women like toys. And yet, somehow, I still find myself having to fight the strong urge deep inside of me that makes me want to like him.

[daresplaining]

Could you maybe make a post with some of the most inspiring Daredevil pages? Stuff like him overcoming the Purple Man making him more depressed and hopeless in Waid's run, or the "I am Daredevil, and I am not Afraid." page from Soule's run. Those kind of pages always help me when I'm feeling down, it would be cool to see more in that vein.

    I love this request, and yes, I can definitely do that! I draw a lot of inspiration from Daredevil too (and superhero comics in general; that’s one of the purposes of the genre, in my experience), and refusing to give up when everything is falling apart is one of Matt’s trademark moves. Here are a few of my favorite moments– and I’m including the ones you mentioned, since I love them and want to make sure other people have seen them too. 

[ID: The Kingpin is brutally beating up Matt, who is in civvies. Matt falls on his back, his face bloody.]

Matt: “Never give up– never–”

Let’s start with a classic: 

[ID: Daredevil is fighting Namor. He tries electrocuting him, but the blast knocks him to the ground. As Namor walks away, Daredevil reaches out and grabs his ankle before passing out.]

Namor: “This is madness!! Does your own life mean nothing to you!?? Have you no sense of fear??”

Matt: “Sure! But I seem to have carelessly misplaced it somewhere! Now, just stand there for a second, fella– I want to try something!”

Caption: “Taking one last desperate gamble, Daredevil joins the two live wires, hoping to stagger his super-human foe! […] But, once again, the power of the Sub-Mariner is greater than any could suppose, and it is he who recovers first– while the Man Without Fear, despite his insulated gloves– lies weak, and dazed, and helpless…! Yet, how can one measure the limitless courage of a fellow human? Although on the brink of unconsciousness– although racked with pain and fatigue– still the sightless crusader reaches out–!”

Matt: “Come back! You– you mustn’t fight the others–! They’re innocent– mustn’t be harmed– mustn’t–!”

Namor: “[…] I have fought the Fantastic Four, the Avengers, and other super-powered humans, but none has been more courageous than he, the most vulnerable of all! And out of respect to the courage of Daredevil, I shall not injure any humans! I shall fly above the waiting armed forces– and return to the sea where I am supreme!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #7 by Stan Lee and Wally Wood

    The issue that introduced the red Daredevil costume also crafted one of the first memorable depictions of Matt’s boundless resilience. Namor the Sub-Mariner comes ashore to sue the human race, and hires Nelson and Murdock to represent him. When the situation goes awry, Namor becomes violent, and Matt tries to subdue him. While he gets thoroughly thrashed in this fight, Matt’s persistence impresses Namor enough to make him leave the human race alone (for now). That image of a nearly-unconscious Daredevil clinging to Namor’s ankle is fairly iconic, with– I feel– good reason. 

[ID: The Hulk backhands Daredevil a good distance, where he crashes into some trash cans. He is injured and bleeding, but he struggles back to his feet as the Hulk stands over him, deciding whether or not to finish him off.]

Hulk: “NO! Banner made the Hulk a monster and Hulk will find him, even if it takes forever!”

Matt: “Hulk… *koff*… you won’t find Banner… *koff*… this way. You can’t… *koff*… find Banner this way. The police… the authorities.. I-I want to help them understand… *koff*… and… *koff* … I want to help you. …But you’ll have to trust me.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #163 by Roger McKenzie, Frank Miller, and Glynis Wein

    This is, thematically, a very similar situation to the first scene. The Hulk goes on a rampage and Matt tries to stop him. Just as in the Namor situation, Matt loses this fight– he is nearly beaten to death, and is confined to a hospital bed for quite a while afterward– but his courage breaks through the Hulk’s rage enough to calm him down. This is a recurring theme in their friendship. Matt first meets Bruce Banner when he is hired to represent the Hulk in court, and from the beginning, Matt has been vocal in his support of Bruce and sympathy for the Hulk. Despite the danger, Matt never hesitates to put himself within smashing distance of the Hulk for the sake of helping him. 

[ID: A taxi is resting at the bottom of a river with its hood bashed in. Matt Murdock is unconscious in the front seat. We see a close-up of his eyes as they open in a defiant glare. The next few panels show the Kingpin standing at a window looking out, and photos of the cab after it has been pulled out of the river.]

Caption: “Unconscious but living, Murdock is placed in a stolen checker cab… The cab is driven off Pier 41 into the East River. Its safety belt and doors are corroded shut by a chemical process that is identical to rust. Murdock is drenched in whiskey. A bottle, open, is laid in his lap. The owner of the cab is beaten to death by Murdock’s stolen billy club. Days pass into weeks. Still Murdock is never far from the crimelord’s thoughts. He imagines one last, terrible moment of realization… of Murdock thrashing wildly, desperately, hatefully… screaming soundlessly into the poisoned water… The Kingpin shudders at the thought, in pleasure… The world seems flooded with sunlight. Daily business becomes a joyous, childlike game. He has disgraced, destroyed and murdered the only good man he has ever known. This is his triumph of the spirit.

“At last the cab is discovered. There is blood, and bloody evidence of a struggle. There is a shattered windshield… a safety belt, severed by the windshield’s glass and what must have been a hideous effort of will. There is no corpse.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #228 by Frank Miller, David Mazzucchelli, and R. Lewis

    This is, of course, from the famous “Born Again” arc, and I had a hard time choosing a scene, since the whole story is essentially a seven-issue-long depiction of Matt being knocked down and then standing back up. (I highly recommend reading it if anyone hasn’t, and I also summarized it here. I also cheated by including another scene at the beginning of this post…). However, the scene above is a turning point and possibly my favorite moment in the whole story. At this point Matt has lost it all: his friends, his career, his reputation, his money, and his home. In a fit of desperate, delirious anger, he attacks the Kingpin, who beats him unconscious and then– in the scene above– tries to kill him once and for all. The above issue starts with Matt curled up on a bed in a hotel room, unable to force himself to even move. He seems thoroughly beaten, and the Kingpin assumes the same, which is why he decides to stop toying with his victim and just finish the job. But in spite of all of this, Matt freaking Murdock refuses to die, and he somehow finds the strength to physically fight his way out of this seemingly unsurvivable situation. The fact that we don’t see him do it– that we only get the Kingpin’s reaction and that panel of Matt’s defiant glare after regaining consciousness– makes this act of resilience all the more powerful.       

[ID: Daredevil is fighting the Vulture (the Spider-Man villain). Daredevil pins him to the ground and starts punching him in the face.]

Matt: “A while ago, you said I secretly wanted to die. You were wrong. Cowards want to die. I’m no coward. I’m proving it– to you and to myself– by beating you… you– and everything you represent… the death and decay that eat away at a man until he surrenders… the horror that pulls you down into the pit! Well, I’m not the surrendering kind, mister! Got that? I never give up!”

Daredevil vol. 1 #225 by Denny O’Neil, David Mazzucchelli, and Ken Feduniewicz

    Matt is not at all a suicidal person (I’ve seen some fans claim otherwise, but he really isn’t), and this scene comes from a rare issue that covers that topic. It takes place shortly after Heather Glenn’s suicide, and it explores how the spectre of her death haunts Matt and Foggy’s lives afterward. In this story, the concept of death is represented by the Vulture, who Matt discovers trying to rob Heather’s grave. Later, he appears at the offices of Nelson and Murdock, which have just gone bankrupt. Upset by this loss, Foggy wanders up to the roof and contemplates his life, at which point he encounters the Vulture. Matt, fearing that Foggy might kill himself, goes up after him in costume and tries to fight the Vulture off. For a moment, during the fight, Matt contemplates whether he actually wants to lose, before returning to his senses and defeating both the Vulture and his own dark thoughts. 

[ID: Daredevil is fighting a huge crowd of grotesque-looking demons while carrying a lit torch. He holds up the torch and the demons scatter.] 

Matt: “My whole life, endless fighting. What a fate. I wonder, could I change that fate? No matter how many I kill, they keep on coming.”

Mephisto: “Ha ha ha ha ha! I love it! That’s it, you big hero. Keep fighting. Fight till you drop that torch.”

Matt: “What if… what if I just stopped? If I just stopped fighting. If you stop fighting, isn’t the fight over? Yes. Yes, yes, yes. They can’t touch me. Okay, Mephisto. I’m coming for you. You made a mistake. You believe your evil breaks a man. Sometimes it does. But when it doesn’t break a man– it makes him even stronger.”

Daredevil vol. 1 #281 by Ann Nocenti, John Romita Jr., and Christie Scheele

    This is from Matt’s literal trip to Hell in Nocenti’s run (Hell is a cosmic setting in the Marvel universe, and Mephisto is a recurring antagonist, so this isn’t quite as bizarre as it sounds…). While trapped in a seemingly endless wasteland and attacked by hoards of demons, Matt musters enough free will and spirit (as represented by the fire he’s carrying) to not only survive, but to actually challenge Mephisto. It’s great. 

[ID: Matt is crouched on the side of a building at night, in the rain. He is wearing the Daredevil suit but has taken the mask off. He puts his hand to his face in emotional anguish.] 

Matt: “I’ve got to pull myself together. My world is falling apart and I am helping it every single step of the way. I have to focus. Focus. Foggy is right. My entire life– everything is up for grabs. Everything I’ve built– everything I am– can be taken away from me. Have to center my energies. Have to think. Focus. Center and focus. Center and focus. Don’t listen to their camera motors and their cell phones. Don’t listen to them. The phone calls. All I hear is my name over and over: Murdock. Murdock, Murdock. That name is not theirs to say. It’s not theirs! It’s mine. They’re stealing it from me. No! Stop it. Center and focus. Center and focus. Center and–”

Mugging victim (off-panel): Noooo!”

Matt: “Focus.”

Daredevil vol. 2 #35 by Brian Michael Bendis, Alex Maleev, and Matt Hollingsworth

    I love this little moment from Bendis’s run. It’s small and subdued, but highly moving in the context of what Matt is dealing with in this story. His identity has been made public, there are crowds of reporters camped outside his home, his entire life is at risk of falling apart, but he takes this second to pause, think, and regain some sense of control.  

[ID: Matt stands up and prepares to fight. He is armed with two tonfa, and is wearing black clothes reminiscent of his Man Without Fear costume, but without a mask. His head is bandaged.]

Matt: “You think you can… turn me into a blubbering wreck… by preying on my fears… but I’ve already faced them– and come out the other side! You understand me, Calavera? I know what I am… who I am… and I am not afraid!”

Daredevil: Reborn #4 by Andy Diggle, Davide Gianfelice, and Matt Hollingsworth

    The Reborn mini-series follows Matt’s attempt at emotional recovery in the aftermath of “Shadowland”. Having quite literally lost his identity and had his spirit broken by getting possessed by a demon, he goes out west and, through helping right some wrongs in a small town in New Mexico, he reaffirms his sense of self.  

[ID: A stormy winter night. Ferry pilots (Sid and Ronnie, off-panel) are waiting for Daredevil to resurface from the river. As their ferry moves away, Daredevil hauls himself out of the freezing water and onto a dock.]

Sid: “It’s been a while, Ronnie– think he’s still down there?”

Ronnie: “Sid– you a moron? Where else would he be?”

Sid: “Beats me. Just askin’. It’s too bad– looks like he went back down there for nothin’. ‘Cept maybe to die.”

Ronnie: “Well, I’m not givin’ up just yet.”

Sid: “No? Why not?”

Ronnie: “’Cause I don’t think he would.”

Daredevil: Dark Nights #2 by Lee Weeks and Lee Loughridge

    The first Dark Nights story is a celebration of Matt’s willpower, as he travels through a blizzard to deliver a heart transplant to a dying little girl. I particularly love this scene, in which Matt dives into the river to rescue the heart and the pilots transporting it from their crashed helicopter, and despite the cold and his exhaustion, he powers through and survives the experience.

[ID: Daredevil is bleeding and horribly injured, and crouched in the mud under a bridge. The Purple Man is standing above him, about to hit him with a plank of wood.]

Purple Man: “Shouldn’t you be angry? Shouldn’t you put up a struggle?”

Matt (caption): “But that’s how far down the pit I’ve fallen. I can’t even respond to his orders. 

Purple Man: “Come on. This is too easy. Don’t rob me of a victory I’ve waited years for.”

Matt (caption): “All I can do is sink into the blackness. I can’t feel pain. I can’t  move because I have nothing to push against. Nothing.”

Purple Man: “Show me some fear.”

[ID: Daredevil kicks the Purple Man, then falls back to his knees. ]

Matt (caption): “That. That, I know how to fight. Get up. You have momentum now. Don’t lose it. Don’t let the shadows pull you back in. Inertia is the enemy. Do something. Move. Move, Matthew.”

Daredevil vol. 4 #10 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Matt Wilson

    I’m glad you mentioned this scene because it’s one of my favorites too, as is this story arc as a whole. Waid’s depiction of depression is visceral and heartrending because it’s something he himself suffers from, and that realism makes Matt’s struggle to move forward and fight against his despair all the more impactful.  

    As an extension of the above moment, Matt’s decision to talk with Kirsten at the end of the issue (which I discussed at length here) is also breathtaking.  

[ID: A black page with a red heart monitor readout at the bottom. It flatlines, then spikes once.]

Matt (caption): “I cannot see the light. So I will be the light. I am Daredevil. And I am not afraid.”

Daredevil vol. 5 #612 by Charles Soule and Phil Noto

    And this moment– there’s nothing more badass than Matt literally willing himself back to life! “I am Daredevil. And I am not afraid” is a refrain that is repeated throughout Soule’s run, which is a neat way of tying his run together and emphasizing Matt’s relentless determination. 

[ID: Matt is alone in a gym, struggling to walk between two parallel bars. He falls, then, with a huge effort, pulls himself back up.]

Jack (off-panel): “Fear’s of no use to us, Matt. We have to live with it, but it’s not for anything. But pain? What’s pain for, Matt? What’s pain for?”

Matt: “Pain keeps us going.”

Man Without Fear vol. 2 #5 by Jed MacKay, Danilo Beyruth, and Andres Mossa

    The new Man Without Fear was another great recovery story, and gave us this really great moment when Matt, after suffering through the physical and emotional destruction of being hit by a truck, finally regains his fighting spirit.

    I also wanted to include a few scenes of other people being inspired by Matt’s courage and resilience, because there are some great ones. Here’s one of my favorites, from Waid’s run:

[ID: Foggy is sitting in a circle with a group of fellow cancer patients. They are all wearing Daredevil shirts.]

Foggy: “Ah, excellent. You all dressed for the occasion. I’ll be straight up with you folks. I have a friend. He’s probably the bravest man I’ve ever met. And no matter how much I beg him to teach me to be like him… in the whole time I’ve known him, I’ve learned only one thing about fearlessness: it’s contagious.”

Daredevil vol. 3 #31 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee, and Javier Rodriguez

    I love this aspect of Foggy’s cancer plotline– the fact that Foggy uses Matt as a source of inspiration for facing his own fear. These two have always been emotional anchors for each other, providing moral support and guidance in difficult times, and that’s part of what makes their friendship so powerful. Here, Foggy is largely on his own. Matt can’t punch cancer, and Foggy doesn’t even tell him about the symptoms at first. But from the very beginning, Foggy latches onto Matt’s fearlessness as a way of fending off his own terror about the diagnosis. As I said at the beginning of the post, part of the purpose of superhero stories is to serve as inspiration for their readers to be kind and courageous in their own lives, and it’s wonderful when characters within those stories are impacted in that same way by the superheroes around them. To take this concept one meta step further, Foggy’s cancer story– the whole thing, including his drawing strength from his best friend– is in itself a hero story for readers who may be going through similar experiences. 

[ID: Flashback panels colored in black and white with hints of red. Matt (in civvies) is attacked by a group of ninjas on a city street. He fights them while Foggy runs and hides around a corner.]

Foggy (caption): “When you were around, it was different. The fear wasn’t so real. I was still freaked whenever anything happened… my nerves were a car wreck… but even as I was sweating bullets, I somehow knew I was safe. Because of you.”

Daredevil vol. 2 #88 by Ed Brubaker, Michael Lark, David Aja, and Frank D’Armata

    …And another great Foggy and Matt scene, this one from “The Secret Life of Foggy Nelson”, one of my favorite issues of Brubaker’s run. Foggy has been separated from Matt against his will, and in his isolation and fear, he reflects on their friendship and draws strength from Matt’s example. 

[ID: Luke Cage is sitting comfortably in a chair, legs crossed, directly addressing the reader.]

Luke: “Daredevil. I know him pretty well, actually. Well, as well as he lets anyone know him. End of the day, without question, he’s one of the best. Ever. I’m not going to get into who he is and how he became who he became. And I know there are a lot of people who think they know all there is to know about Daredevil and all of his secrets. But I can tell you from personal experience that the information that’s out there about him is pretty much crap. Let’s just leave it at that. All you need to know about Daredevil is that this man has sacrificed everything to try to make this city safer. He has lost more and suffered more for his dedication to you than, well, anybody I know. And I know some people who’ve suffered and lost. He ain’t the strongest of us, and he ain’t the flashiest… but Daredevil cannot be brought down. It cannot happen.”

New Avengers vol. 2 #16 by Brian Michael Bendis, Mike Deodato, and Rain Beredo

    And last but not least, here an excerpt from a great speech Luke Cage gives after Matt joins the Avengers. Even other superheroes– all of whom tend toward superhuman resilience– are impressed by Matt.  

[yeskama]

Prologue Draft: A Tale of Sorcery II: Dance of the Dark Dragon

The following is an unfinished draft of the prologue chapter for my next fanfic. Some pieces might make it to the final draft but I’m pretty sure most of it’s gonna end up nuked. Figured I’d share it before that happens...

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

In the southwestern regions of Augustus, 25 miles from the Solidere border, the Fortress City of Delacroix stands vigil. Considered a feat of human ingenuity, she was constructed during the peak of the Agustian Empire, encompassing over 40,000 square meters of the Great Southern Lake. The steel walls surrounding her reach up to 200 feet, while her tallest towers peak at 400. Built on a solitary island, four great bridges provide entry to the mainland, each located at a cardinal point and underneath her foundations, a vast underground mining complex extracts the valued minerals of the earth. Surrounding the city are ten great spires that defend her from any act of war, be they magic, artillery or otherwise. This resilience has always been the city’s greatest boon. Indeed, the Dark Kingdom only succeeded in conquering the city by starving her citizens out. Even then, it took 2 and half years to accomplish Her accolades however don’t end there...    

Behind her walls reside the finest tradesmen, crafters and scholars known worldwide. Delacroix’s Shining Star Academy has produced many great magi throughout the centuries, notably Archmage Noah. Her citizens are not only a proud and hardy people but also hospitable. The city boasts the largest demi-human and elf populations in Augustus. The Great Cathedral of Aime not only administers the Ten’s watchful eyes, but even permits other faiths to provide for their pilgrims. All these feats however will never wash away the city’s greatest shame. For it was here, six centuries ago, Lilith was sired. The very woman whose son brought the entire continent to its knees, was at a time, one of her beloved citizens...

Since it’s liberation, the governing body of Delacroix has served her Augustian masters for the past 406 years. The road between her and the capital has long been dubbed “The Golden Road” for its consistently safe conditions. For years, the gates of Delacroix stood open for all...

Now?

Her drawbridges are raised, her waters play host to dangerous beasts, and her citizens have boarded themselves within, sword and staff ready. Cannons line her walls while wyverns dominate her skies. Amongst the rolling hills of the mainland, Legion tents dot the landscape with artillery directed at the city. Bending to the banners of golden flame, the north and west bleed red, whilst across the lake, banners of the white horse stand firm as the lands bleed blue. The time is 11 at dawn and here, situated among the hills of red, two men ready their charges for afternoon drills...  

“Recruit-man Lyon!” “Captain Lagnus, sir!” “You are holding your weapon incorrectly, recruit-man...” Unsheathing his own blade, he proceeds to explain. “You want your main hand resting near the guard and your off hand near the pommel. That way you have proper balance. Clutching with the hands together lessens your control...” “Thank you, sir! I will keep that in mind from now on!”  

Sheathing his blade, he just gave the lad a reassuring smile and went on his way. T’was a common mistake, especially amongst enlisted civilians. After examining a few more fresh faces, Lagnus found himself staring into the clear blue sky as sweat tricked down his face.

Though the humidity had lessened since yesterday, the summer's heat was still strong. Truth be told. Lagnus himself wasn’t exactly dressed for the occasion. A man of 23 years with jet black hair and brown eyes, he had served in the Legion for six years now. A commissioned officer, he wore a standard Legion armor set but with a slight personal touch. He had it gilded to reflect his proficiency with light magic (a rather difficult element to master amongst magi) with a blue bodysuit, brown gloves and a gold circlet. Finishing the ensemble was a red cape, bearing the sigil of a gold flame on its back, reflecting the House he served under. While he looked regal in it, truthfully, it was like a mini torture cell! He wanted nothing more but to remove it but doing so would undermine his authority, or so he believed. Wiping his head, he made his way toward one of the nearby canopies wherein he took to the comfort of water, chugging away without abandon. With his thirst quenched, he sighed in delight and took a seat. T’was then another man took to the canopy, the one instructing the magi...

“Hot, Captain?” He greeted him. Lagnus just shook his head. “I can manage, my lord...” The man merely smirked as he went for a bottle of water. “I somehow doubt that...” He answered dryly

Albus Vanthe Amherst was his name and at just 17 years, his reputation preceded him. Captain of the Legion Magi Corps and heir to one of the five great noble families of Augustus. Lagnus was familiar with the stories...a generational prodigy they call him. He graduated the Augustus Magi Academy at 12, enrolled in the Severin Legion Academy at 13 before graduating a year later and quickly soaring through the ranks. It took Lagnus six years to claw his way up to Captain, a feat which Albus accomplished in four. An impressive accomplishment indeed and Lagnus was inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt...

...if not for that last name.

He had seen it before, hayseeds elevated through the ranks all on the merits of their family names. Being an orphan, Lagnus did not possess the luxury of a last name, though he was well on his way toward earning one.  Regardless, it just left a sour taste in his mouth. His appearance did nothing to dissuade this notion. A face so immaculately crafted, you’d mistake it for a king’s, with piercing emerald eyes and long flowing scarlet hair. His current attire consisted of a black unbuttoned long coat with matching pants and boots, all of which had some manner of gold trimmings. Only the shirt he wore broke the trend, being a plain red in color. Clearly ill-dressed himself for the season, not that it mattered to Lagnus. He was more preoccupied with warding off the heat than anything...

“Done with your charges?” The noble asked. Lagnus nodded. “Indeed. Yourself my lord?” Albus just nodded before reaching into one of his pockets. Pulling out a bag of peanuts, he offered. “Snack?”

Eh, why not?

Rising from his seat, Lagnus stood next to the mage as the two of them picked at the bag. He hadn’t had salted peanuts since he was a boy and had long forgotten the taste. Rough and tangy but still tastey! Unfortunately, they prompted more water down the throat (the wonders of salt). As the two ate, they both looked ominously on the city. Five months have passed since Delacroix declared for independence and so far...nothing. Just what was going on in there?

“May if I inquire about something, Captain?” Albus asked “Go ahead.” “Why are you here?” Lagnus looked at the mage confused. What prompted him to ask such a thing? “What else? To do my duty. The city has rebelled against the crown. Such actions cannot be abided...” “If memory serves me correctly, did you not once call this city home?” He matched eyes with the knight. “When those drawbridges come down, rest assured, things will turn ugly. If that comes to pass...can you bring it upon yourself to draw your sword on your own neighbors?” Lagnus returned his gaze toward the city, “When we joined the Legion, we made a pledge to his majesty. A knight who cannot stay true to his word cannot be called a knight...” Albus let out a soft chuckle upon hearing this...   “My friend...you are not a knight...” Lagnus just flashed a brief smile as he went for some more peanuts. “Give it time, my lord.”

It was around this time a figure ascended the hill on horseback.  His face concealed by , he was on horseback and had three prisoners in tow, bound by rope and their faces concealed by sacks. One was an adult woman wearing a red maid outfit. Lagnus was well aware of its significance, only those serving one of Delacroix’s governing families wore red. The other two were just children, a boy and a girl. Arriving before the canopy, the shrouded figure dismounted and knelt before them...

“Sir Lagnus, Lord Albus...I have fulfilled my task...” Albus applauded the man as he rose to his feet. “So I see! Well done good sir! Let us meet with uncle, I'm sure he’ll find these arrivals most pleasing...”

Amherst command took up residence in a quaint tent near the lakeside. Inside, sigils of the golden flame stood proud whilst men and women of scarlet (or blonde) hair and green eyes seated themselves before a long table. Food and wine took residence upon its fine surface while its masters discussed strategy, charted maps and schemed against their political enemies. Situated in the back and installed on the most decorated seat was the Lord Victor Penton Amherst, current head of House Amherst, chief advisor to his royal highness and, both figurative and literally, the most powerful man in camp.  

Of course, upon first impressions, one would hardly come to such a conclusion. A man of 55 years, Victor had already gone through three wives and sired six children, only one of which, survived to this day. At a mere 5 feet, he looked like an ant seated amongst giants, though none dared to make such a jest. His scarlet hair, now lessening and brushed backward, had dulled to the that of light ginger. This extended to the thick goatee he grew to mask his weathering features. The parts of his face visible were suitably worn, highlighting his high cheekbones and the creases under his eyes, which like the rest of his family, were a deep emerald in color. Whilst his present company were outfitted in decorative raiment, Victor settled on a simple black leather doublet, with matching pants and boot. Situated on his lap and was the Amherst family heirloom, a great tome bearing the family’s ancestral sigil, a golden flame over a red field. The tome itself bore the family’s greatest creation; a magic spell forged from over 200 years of generational knowledge...

Hellfire

Whilst the others squabbled amongst themselves, Lord Victor kept silent, his attention focused on a letter addressed from his majesty. A solemn man, he was not one for small talk, only speaking when he deemed it necessary. Only Albus’s arrival would pry him away from the whims of his king...  

“Lord Uncle!” He shouted over the ruckus. Upon the declaration, the whole tent immediately went quiet. Raising his head up, he watched as his nephew hurried to his side.  

“What is it Albus?” he asked. Contrary to Lord Victor’s size, his voice was deep and strong. “Have there been any new developments from the city?”  Albus just smiled and shook his head. “Afraid not, my lord. But we have procured some...bargaining chips.” Signaling to the entrance of the tent, he shouted...

“Bring them in!”

Lagnus escorted the bound maid while the cloaked figure gently prompted the children in. All eyes were on the pair as they unmasked the captives. The maid was a young woman with short blonde hair and blue eyes, probably in her early to mid 20’s. Her eyes bore a tremendous fury toward the tent’s occupants though she stayed her tongue. Lagnus maintained his composure but was quite dismayed by her unveiling...

For he knew this woman...

Thankfully t’was not the maid the Amhersts were interested In. Rather, their attention was focused on the children. A delicate looking pair for sure, certainly no older than 8. Both bore eyes of red, hair of orange and were outfitted in sleepwear typically reserved for the upper-class. These factors lead little doubt concerning their identities. Like the maid, their mouths remained silent but instead of fury in their eyes, terror took front stage. This fear intensified as the short man in black approached them, his great red tome tucked under his left arm. Kneeling down to the boy, he gently grabbed the lad’s chin and studied. The boy, whose eyes were tightly shut, began to cry...

“Open your eyes boy!” The man asked sternly.

He did as asked and was instantly met by the man’s emerald gaze. He stared intently before breaking his gaze and looking up to the Shrouded Man, who’s head bowed in respect.  

“There is no mistaking it. This is indeed Lord Ville’s son...”

Raising to his feet, he ordered all present save his nephew, Lagnus and the shrouded man to leave. Once the tent was emptied, he gave the order to a nearby sentry to escort the children to one of the prisoner’s tents and double camp security. He was taking no chances. As the children left the tent, the shrouded figure snapped his fingers and suddenly, their tears and sniffles were now audible. The display brought a rare smirk to Lord Victor. A silence incantation? Very clever indeed...

“Remove those rags and rest yourself. You’ve more than earned it...”  

The figure did as commanded and discarded his concealments, revealing a young man with short chestnut brown hair and piercing brown eyes.  Seating himself at the table, he proceeded picking at the ham as Lord Victor wandered over to the maid, eyeing her curiously...

“Who is this?”

The brown-haired youth looked upward and responded, “A servant who got a bit too nosy for her own good...” The cup now full, he took a quick swig and continued, “Give her credit, she was the only one in the Ville household that didn’t buy my story...” Breaking eye contact, he looked downward, “When the opportunity to abduct the kids arose, she was waiting for me in the girl’s bedroom...” He paused briefly before finishing “Not wanting to take any risks, I brought her along...”  

The maid glared furiously at the man, struggling to free herself while her mouth silently flapped like mad. Lagnus tightened his grip, garnering him an ugly look from the young woman before she returned her gaze to the brown-haired man. Without warning, she suddenly felt a vicious strike against her left cheek. The blow was strong, so much so, her head swung as she fell to her knees. A red bruise burned brightly on her face and as she struggled to open her left eye, she felt someone grip her cheeks. Orbs of green gazed into her sole opened eye, a horrifying fire having awakened within them...

“If you value your life wench, you will compose yourself...” The Lord Amherst growled. “The Golden Flame has no time for fools. I suggest you prepare yourself for questioning...less you want something unpleasant to befall those children...”

As the maid was escorted out, Lord Victor returned to his seat. Albus took a seat next to his uncle whilst Lagnus sat across from the Brown Haired Man. Lord Victor eyed him inquisitively before asking...

“Have you charted the city’s entire sewer system?” Nodding, the man pulled out three folded papers from his pocket and set them on the table. A brief smirk crossed Victor’s lips upon seeing them. It had been three months since he departed for the city. An insider them tipped off that the city intended to declare for independence. Only the royal family was privy to the city’s one weakness, and even then, their knowledge of it was lacking. Victor sent his newest acquisition into the city before the drawbridges were rose, complete with fake identifications to clear him as a Ville servant. Needless to say, the lad passed with flying colors. Passing the pitcher of wine around, all four pour their goblets and the Lord Amherst raised a glass...

“To you Canne, let us celebrate this moment as one!”   “Here, Here!” Albus chimed. “Aye...” Lagnus agreed quietly. Canne kept his silence, his eyes closed as he sipped his wine. Once everyone had their fill, he asked...

“Will the children be harmed?” The question surprised Albus who softly chuckled. “Well, that all depends on Lady Ville! As we are all privy, every woman’s sole weakness is their children...Why else would we assign you to her?” Albus smirked as he raised to goblet to his mouth for another sip before continuing. “I’m rather shocked Canne! Even after three months as a servant you still possess that small-town naiveté? I would think it quashed by now...” Though he did not see it, Canne shot Albus an ugly glance as the noble returned to his cup...

“Is it not strange though?”  Lagnus interjected. “What is?” Albus eyed him. “How many of the council seats have changed in the past 6 months? Lord Ville’s sudden death notwithstanding, both the Rochester and Hanniver heads passed away two weeks apart! The Cushings being replaced by the Lees? The disappearance of Lord Dolle and his daughter? And the Monevs being given a seat?! So much has happened amongst the city’s top brass that it’s near impossible to ignore!” Looking at Canne, Lagnus asked “Did you hear anything notable during the past three months?” Canne simply shook his head...

“Nothing significant save rumors and gossip. Amongst the staff, the prevailing belief was that Lady Ville poisoned her husband, though just as many say otherwise. Though the daly atmosphere amongst the household was fairly dismal...”

“Our mission is quell the uprising, not speculate on it.

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

The chapter would have ended with Victor sending Canne eastward to acquire some “important desirables” his majesty requested in the letter (though what they were would not be revealed). 

The only noteworthy thing about this was that in earlier stages, Lemres was present. Originally, Lemres was the one training the mages and would pose the question if Lagnus was comfortable with the situation. These interactions were repurposed for Albus with minor adjustments (Albus was always intended to appear, instead he would have been introduced in the Amherst tent). 

Why was this changed?

1.) I have reservations about Sega characters appearing in the story so early. Maybe further down the road but not so soon.

2.) Lemres serving in the Legion is just too out of character of him. Also, the implication that he would have no problem blasting rebels on the grounds of treason was just pushing it.

[sarcasticdebate]

Oasis

Relationships: Echo & Spacekru, Echo & Bellamy Blake - AO3

Rating: G

Summary: Western AU Echo wanders into a new town, fleeing from the one she was chased out of and wanting nothing more than some water to drink. She doesn't expect to be so enamored by the town or it's people. 

If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been. 

The town emerges on the western horizon, a cracky outcropping against the dry flat terrain. From this distance it’s about the size of her thumbnail, the edges around it simmering in the heat. Echo considers passing it by, but she can hear her horse panting under her, and the dried riverbed she’s being following for the past forty miles doesn’t seem to be getting any wetter.

The town will have water at least, and that’s enough incentive for her to turn her reigns. Still, the horse and herself are too tired to traverse even the short distance in anything like a timely fashion. She dismounts when they are about halfway there, noticing how rocky her perch has become. Her horse needs more water than her and it’s been a dry couple of days.

Luckily the town doesn’t stop growing, and it’s motivation enough to keep her moving forward. As if sensing her own resilience, the horse remains strong too, and they stumble into the small town just before dusk.

If the place has a name, it isn’t being advertised, and she doesn’t bothering asking anyone she passes by. A few of them meet her eyes and tip their hats. One man who has the look of an immigrant from across the Pacific waves from behind his cart of vegetables, but otherwise, the townspeople recognize her as an outsider and give her room to breath.

Green’s Inn & Bar is situated near the center of town, with three stories for boarding and stables out back. A little boy sits under the overhang of the back porch and springs to his feet when he sees her, taking over the reigns of her horse with a gentle pat to his nose, and a toothy grin for her. His joy surprises her a bit, as unburdened as it is. Echo hands him a few cents without thinking about it, and if possible his delight grows at the sight of the copper coin.

“Thank you ma’am!” he calls as he takes a pail in hand and prances off towards a well somewhere. Echo cannot remember having so much easy energy as a child. Perhaps he just has good parents, or maybe it’s an indication of the kinder nature of the town in general. She can only hope.

Climbing the three steps into the salon makes her thighs burn more than it should, but her entire body burns, her skin cracked and dry and muscles tense from exertion.

“What can I get you?” asks the woman behind the bar as Echo heaves herself into a barstool.

“Just water,” Echo answers, and the woman turns to fill the order with a nod. Echo’s eyes drift shut without her permission, the restlessness of the short shifts of sleep she had dared to take on horseback the previous night creeping up on her. The tavern is quiet now, past the lunch rush and before dinner, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to drift off if it weren’t for the man who decides to strike up a conversation with her.

“C’mon, you want something stronger than water,” he says, “Let me buy you a drink.”

Echo’s eyelids peel back, annoyance settling across her brow. There’s very little she’d like less then getting solicited at the moment.  

The man has a thin, dirty face and bright eyes. There’s a gun on his belt, but he’s shorter than her and not terribly fit, she could take him easily if he were to try anything. But she doesn’t think he will. The way he tilts his hips and crosses his arms is far from flirtatious. Not to mention his scowl.

“Alcohol is damaging when you’re dehydrated,” she says, the dryness of her tone a result of both the feeling in her mouth and her general annoyance. Unfortunately he doesn’t take the clear dismissal for what it is, tilting his head like the fact she knows something so obvious makes her more interesting. Or challenging. The frown isn’t as deep.

“Ignore him,” says another voice, female this time, and coming from her other side. “John’s been sober six years and ‘as forgotten how booze work.” The woman has darker skin, more appropriate for the desert sun, and a mark around her eye like a sailor’s tattoo. Her eyes are bright too, but not with enthusiasm. More like the shimmering waves of heat on the horizon at mid day, the ones that make water seem just a step away. Echo notices the gun on her hip too.

“You’re new in town,” the woman remarks, taking the seat next to Echo without asking. As if it were an invitation, the man, John, takes the seat on her right.

“Just passing through,” Echo says, wishing they’d get the hint and just scram.

“Passing through? Hope little Jordan’s taking care of your horse.” Echo was never groomed with manners. The next thing out of her mouth would have been a lashing dismissal to leave her well the fuck alone, if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted with a loud cough.

“Murphy, Emori, I hope you aren’t giving this lady any trouble?” Her uninvited companions turn at the sound with matching eyerolls. The new party stands behind them, his voice is deep and authoritative. Something inside her perks up immediately upon hearing it. He has his thumbs tucked beneath his belt too make his chest seem larger. The sherrif badge on his breast gleams.

“Us, Bellamy? Never,” John (Murphy?) says with clearly false affront.

“Then leave her alone,” he says, with exasperation this time rather than sternness.

“Nothing wrong with a conversation, Bellamy,” Emori says, but swings herself out of the chair nonetheless. “Sorry I never caught your name, I’m Emori,” she says.

“Echo,” she relents, a consolation for their leaving. Emori smiles like she doesn’t believe that’s her real name, but will except it for the time being. She gives her a wave before going to meet Murphy at the pool table, her hand and fingers curved like a ginger root. Echo turns her gaze to Bellamy quickly.

“Sorry about them,” he says, indicating if he can take Murphy’s vacated chair. She nods. Pleasant company she will take. “I’m convinced the two of them are the best con men west of the Mississippi, didn’t want you getting caught up in it. It’s sorta my job to manage the crime,” he says with a short chuckle, pointing to the badge like she might have somehow missed it.

“Really?” she questioned with disbelief, casting the couple a quick glance. As far as she can tell the pair are flirting outrageously as they take turns stretching out across the pool table.

“Probably planning on learning your schedule so they could nick your horse when you leave, something of a bad habit the two of them have.”

She inspects Bellamy’s face. The lines of his humor are still there, but they lay over years of turmoil and hard work, she can see it weathered on his face. The generosity doesn’t fit neatly into that mosaic. People are weathered like that too, where she’s from, and they have a way of dealing with thieves.

“Why don’t you hang them?” she asks. Bellamy blinks.

“It’s been done,” he says, somber. “Didn’t quite stick.”

He coughs, shallow and awkward from his throat. “Besides, they keep all the other raiders and gangs away. Orchestrated a ‘mining accident’ that’s kept McCreary and his boys out of these parts for years.”

Echo has some concerns about his methods of law enforcement, but she doesn’t get a chance to voice them, interrupted by the server.

“Sorry for the wait, here’s your water,” she says, handing over a bigger glass than Echo could have dreamed. “And some cabbage soup. Best stuff in town, my husband grows the cabbages himself, and it’s more nutritious than you think. You looked like you could use a good meal.”

There’s a hunk of bread next to the steaming bowl of soup and she tears into it immediately, caught off guard by her own hunger. Sustaining herself off of canned rations and the burnt game she’d shot for the past week has done no favors for her stomach.

“Thank you,” she says, remembering her manners after a gulp of the soup burns the top of her mouth.

“Of course!” The patronne says, and then turns to Bellamy. “And what can I get for you?”

“The same as she’s having, Harper” He says with a smile, “And Monty’s finest moonshine, if you don’t mind.”

Harper laughs, even as she slides down the bar to fill the order, “You know that stuff is all nauseating.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Echo sets down the glass of water, half of which she’s already downed.

“This is a nice place,” she remarks, in part to Bellamy, but mostly to herself. Recognizing someone’s needs isn’t something she’s used to in customer service. The atmosphere here is camaradic too, rather than sordid. She cups her hands around the bowl of soup, the warmth seeping into her skin.

“Yeah, Harper’s a good soul,” Bellamy says, following the woman’s back as she prepares his drink. Echo nods in agreement, but that isn’t quite what she meant.

“Not just her, your town in general. The people here are generous, they seem happy.” Bellamy tilts his head like she’s some antiquity.

“You’ve been here less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that? After those idiots tried to scam you?”

“It doesn’t take long to feel the nature of a place,” Echo argues. She’s good at first impressions, she knows she’s right. “Even your criminals do their part to protect this town, how many places can say the same?”

That at least gives him pause, although he still seems on the fence about agreeing with her. “You must be doing your job well Sheriff Bellamy.”

He’s more pensive then, his face a little darker. Things haven’t always been like this, then. Maybe they won’t be for much longer. She wonders what he sacrificed of himself to reach this state of peace.

“I do my best,” is all he concedes. “What about you?” He asks, “What kind of place are you from?”

Does she want to tell him? The events of the past month burn her mouth hotter than the soup ever could, and there’s no real harm in this stranger knowing. Not when his kindness lifts the dark circles from under his eyes.

“A harsher one than here,” she says, “in Dakota territory.”

Bellamy shifts in his seat, and for a moment she believes he’s going to defend the cruel environment of his town, some sort of showing of male bravado, but instead he nods at her to continue when she pauses.

“Winters are always the worst, but we knew how to deal with them. It was this summer we didn’t know how to handle. The wells dried up.”

Bellamy’s face fell, even talking about it now makes the back of her throat itch. She takes another drink of water.

“I was the deputy of a town whose neighbors were killing each other for their water stores.”

It is at that moment Harper comes back with Bellamy’s food and drink. Her face was as equally stricken as his.

“Well God bless you,” she says with genuine sympathy, and for some reason Echo finds comfort in the sad pinch of her brows. She recognizes empathy of course, but can hardly remember the last time any was granted onto her.

“I thought we needed outside help,” Echo continues, acknowledging Harper with a small nod, “a commision or something to get water or at least move the people out till the dry months were past. But the mayor and our sheriff disagreed. They thought that if they allowed the townspeople lowered the population enough we would be able to ration the stores and make it by ourselves.

“I love-loved Geda, I couldn’t see it torn apart like that. When I protested their plan I was chased out of town.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harper says, her fingers are curled around the edges of her sleeves.

“As am I,” Bellamy agrees in his lower register.

There’s more to say of course. She could explain the pain and confusion she’s felt the past few weeks, thinking of the bodies of her friends and neighbors that she left behind. People she had sworn to protect. Or the anger that had made her sick the first night, the brine in her mouth a manifestation of the sourness the betrayal of her leaders had left her with. If it were a little later in the night, and she had allowed herself a glass of that moonshine, maybe she would mention the deep sorrow that’s sat with her since she passed by Poles Ridge, the most southern landmark on a map that had placed Geda at the center. How she’s farther from home than she’s ever been before in her life. A home that’s not hers anymore, and maybe never should have been.

“Well, you’re welcome here as long as you need to stay,” Harper says, “We have rooms for long-term lodging, and if you can’t pay for it there’s plenty of ways to help around here. Monty is always clambering for another pair of hands in the garden.”

“That I am,” says a new voice, Harper’s husband, who Echo recognizes even without his hat and cart of vegetables, and who seems to recognize her in turn. The look on his face suggests he’s heard the tail end of her story.  “I unpacked everything into the cellar,” he says just to Harper, followed by a brief kiss. He looks about ready to strike up a conversation with Bellamy, but is caught with his mouth half open at the look of concentration on Bellamy’s face.

“Or you might think about working for me,” he says after a held moment. He continues quickly once all the present company turn to him in confusion. “I have a deputy, and no plans to leave her jobless,” he says, to the benefit of Harper, who looked about ready to lash into him at the comment. The woman in question is no doubt a friend of hers. “But Raven’s more concerned with city planning, and getting the railroad to come this way than she’s ever been with watching crime. I could use another deputy with a good head on her shoulders, especially…”

He drifts off, but the look of contained excitement on Monty’s face suggests he suspects where Bellamy was going. “Especially when you’re mayor,” he finishes for him.

“You’re really going to run?” Harper asks with obvious excitement, the revelation news to her.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, “I talked to Clarke about it today. She wasn’t exactly happy about it, but I can’t stand by her single minded viewpoints anymore. Killing anyone who might be a threat to the town isn’t a sound method of crime control,” here he indicates his head behind him, to where Murphy and Emori are still loitering about the pool table, eavesdropping Echo realizes now. “but she’s still unwilling to change. So we’ve decided to make it a fair race. I actually came by to tell you both. Meeting you was just a happy accident,” he says to Echo specifically. “You seem experienced in the type of situation we’re dealing with. I’d love to have you on my team.”

“You’ve known me less than an hour and you’ve gleaned all that?” she says, genuinely curious, but with a fair amount of good humor as well. By all accounts Bellamy seems to be a good man who associates with good, if morally dubious, people.

“It doesn’t take me long to gather the nature of a person,” he says with an intimate smile. For the first time in recent memory, her chest feels lighter, her heart excited. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t know the horrible things she’s done in the name of justice and protection, no doubt he’s done the same, he’s seen the good in her too.

“Well that’s a load of horseshit,” Murphy interrupts, coming back to the bar. Emori reclaims her seat on Echo’s left, sneaking a sip of Bellamy’s untouched moonshine with only Echo to notice. “And to think our mayor is going to have your ego.”

“Be quiet, Murphy” Bellamy says, still focused on Echo.

“I think I’d like to stay for awhile,” she says. “Yours seems a worthy cause to fight for.”

Bellamy smiles at her as the other four erupt into debates about how to gain Bellamy favor in the election. His eyes only break away from hers when there’s a commotion at the door. A woman in fashionable yet practical clothing bursts into the room, her arms encumbered by a large stack of papers that seems at risk of falling at each of her limping steps.

“I just got back from the press, look at these bad boys,” she says to the room at large, holding up a poster with BELLAMY BLAKE FOR MAYOR printed proudly down the middle.

“Thank you Raven,” Bellamy says as Harper hurries over to take some of the papers, wasting no time in sticking them to her walls. “This is Echo,” he introduces, “She’s from up north, I’ve recruited her.”

“I’m Raven, it’s a pleasure,” she says, reaching out to shake her hand, then turning to Monty, “get me a drink, would you Green?”

The bar is a flurry of activity after that as the six of them discuss the town’s issues, and Echo is no expert, but she contributes when she can and the others listen and respond and make her question her ideals. Stories are flung around the room, Echo’s among them, and what an odd feeling it is, to feel accepted despite it.

Other patronnes come and go, stopping by to question Bellamy or to clap him on the back. Some even address her, wondering about her endeavors or welcoming her. Harper leaves at one point to collect her son, only for the boy to refuse going to bed and run around the bar to the delight of everyone except his parents. But eventually he’s tucked in, and the bar clears out, Bellamy the last to go. Monty brings her up to her new room, small but comfortable, the few belongings left in her saddlebag already there.

Echo pours herself another glass of water from the pitcher before climbing into bed. She finishes  it and feels sated.

[thisdaynews]

Garth Crooks' team of the week: Aguero, Mata, Van Dijk, James, Ings

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/garth-crooks-team-of-the-week-aguero-mata-van-dijk-james-ings/

Garth Crooks' team of the week: Aguero, Mata, Van Dijk, James, Ings

Liverpool continued their unbeaten run with a 1-0 away win at Tottenham to go 14 points clear at the top of the table.

Sergio Aguero scored a hat-trick and became the top-scoring foreign player in Premier League history asManchester CityhammeredAston Villa6-1 at Villa Park.

Ralph Hasenhuttl’sSouthamptoncelebrated a 2-1 away victory against high-flyingLeicesteras Danny Ings’ late goal denied Brendan Rodgers’ men a third successive league win.

Marcus Rashford marked his 200thManchester Unitedappearance in style by scoring twice as the Red Devils easily saw off bottom-of-the-tableNorwich4-0.

At Stamford Bridge, Callum Hudson-Odoi scored his first Premier League goal asChelsearegained their home form with a 3-0 win overBurnley.

Sheffield United,EvertonandWatfordalso picked up three points, whileCrystal PalaceandArsenalplusWolvesandNewcastleboth drew 1-1.

Here’s my team of the week – have a read and then select your own below.

Goalkeeper – Martin Dubravka (Newcastle)

I thought Crystal Palace’s Vicente Guaita’s double save in the closing minutes of their game against Arsenal was excellent. His efforts preserved a point for the Eagles, who played for almost 30 minutes facing 10 men after Arsenal’s Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang had to go for the sheer carelessness he showed in his tackle on Max Meyer.

However my goalkeeper this week is Newcastle’s Martin Dubravka. The Slovakia international’s performance away to Wolves was immense. He made two world-class saves; one with his feet and the other he practically pulled the ball out of the net. If you don’t believe me, ask his manager Steve Bruce.

Did you know?Dubravka made two saves from shots in the six-yard area in Newcastle’s 1-1 draw with Wolves.

Defenders – Fernandinho (Man City), Reece James (Chelsea), Virgil van Dijk (Liverpool)

Fernandinho:There was a wonderful moment on 49 minutes against Aston Villa when Fernandinho screamed at his fellow defenders and pointed to play the ball forward rather than square. Manchester City were cruising at 4-0 but that didn’t deter the Brazil midfielder-turned-defender from lecturing his team-mates. At a time when Fernandinho could be winding down and starting to become a squad player, he’s now playing in a back four and has added another two years at the top to his career.

Did you know?Fernandinho made 71 passes, had 74 touches and made one tackle in Man City’s 6-1 victory against Aston Villa.

Reece James:This lad has caught my eye before and I’m not in the least bit surprised he has finally made my team. He is starting to look like the real deal. Some of you may remember me admonishing him after Chelsea’s defeat against West Ham when Aaron Cresswell got the better of him. The Chelsea youngster seems to have learned a lesson from that experience and is impressive in defence and attack.

Did you know?No Chelsea player created more chances against Burnley than defender James (three – including an assist).

Virgil van Dijk:Dele Alli had roasted Joe Gomez and seemed to be bearing down on Liverpool’s goal – but that was to reckon without this Dutch colossus. Van Dijk weighs up the situation and realises in order to avert the crisis he is going to have to get his shorts dirty. It’s rare for the Netherlands defender to have to go to ground but the situation called for it. The tackle was beautifully timed, with the man bun still intact, the shorts slightly ruffled but no lasting damage to the image or brand. Job done. Clean sheet. Liverpool march on.

Did you know?Van Dijk made 110 successful passes against Tottenham; the most of any player this weekend.

Midfielders – Juan Mata (Man United), Bernard (Everton), Kevin de Bruyne (Man City), Roberto Firmino (Liverpool)

Juan Mata:The ball for Marcus Rashford to score Manchester United’s opening goal against a soon-to-be-ravaged Norwich City was wonderful. There are few players in the Premier League capable of delivering such a ball – but Mata is one of them. The former Spain playmaker looked up, saw what Rashford saw, and played a pass that rendered everyone in the ground – including the entire Norwich defence – as spectators. Manchester United are simply not good enough to keep a player of Mata’s quality on the bench these days. When is Ole Gunnar Solskjaer going to realise that?

Did you know?Mata provided two assists in a Premier League game for the first time since October 2012, also in a match against Norwich.

Bernard:This lad was only on the pitch for 72 minutes but the impact he made on Everton against a resilient Brighton side was clear. Bernard buzzed around Goodison Park like the legendary Colin Harvey used to – and he had to do it without players of the calibre of Alan Ball or Howard Kendall supporting him. That’s the problem for new manager Carlo Ancelotti – Everton lack quality in midfield, Bernard apart.

Did you know?No Everton player made more passes in the opposition half (38) or created more chances (four) than Bernard against Brighton in the Toffees’ 1-0 win.

Kevin de Bruyne:I must say I have struggled with my team this week. To leave out Abdoulaye Doucoure and Troy Deeney after their win at Bournemouth and two-goal Riyad Mahrez after he danced his way through the Aston Villa defence on two occasions was very difficult. But I could not bring myself to leave out Kevin de Bruyne after his assist for Gabriel Jesus. Have you ever seen a pass like it? Out of this world.

Did you know?De Bruyne notched his 13th and 14th assists of the Premier League season against Aston Villa.

Roberto Firmino:Spurs deserved something from this match but got nothing, thanks to Roberto Firmino’s Exocet missile. If his left is his weaker foot, I can’t imagine how sweetly he strikes the ball with his right. The Brazil international usually plays up front but his work-rate and – for such a gifted player – his surprising physicality mean he could handle a midfield role in my team. He’s been in hot form since he scored the winner in the Club World Club final and, clearly, so are Liverpool, who look unstoppable at the moment.

Did you know?Firmino has scored five goals in his last six games for Liverpool in all competitions, as many as he had in his previous 30 appearances for the Reds.

Forwards – Marcus Rashford (Man United), Danny Ings (Southampton), Sergio Aguero (Man City)

Marcus Rashford:The way Rashford nonchalantly took his first goal against Norwich told you all you need to know about his development. The casual manner in which he celebrated screamed ‘this is just what I do for a living’ and that it was simply business as usual. I can’t help but feel if Jose Mourinho was still at Old Trafford, Rashford would be playing for a club abroad or in the reserves – instead, he is now flourishing at the club he loves.

Did you know?Rashford scored twice from three shots in Manchester United’s win against Norwich.

Danny Ings:The Southampton striker was a constant threat to Kasper Schmeichel and Leicester’s defenders; he could have scored four goals rather than ‘only’ the winner. Ings was effervescent throughout but if, as some are suggesting, he has the potential to move to a bigger club, he needs to improve his chances-to-goals ratio. Saints manager Ralph Hasenhuttl said the win wasn’t about avenging the 9-0 humiliation against the Foxes in October but about how far they had come in their development. Come off it Ralph!

Did you know?Ings was responsible for half of Saints’ 10 shots on target at Leicester.

Sergio Aguero:Aguero’s hat-trick against lamentable Aston Villa was further confirmation he is, without doubt, the best striker to have graced the Premier League. He will soon call it a day on these shores but I dearly hope before he leaves he will be appropriately honoured by the PFA or the Football Writers’ Association. Preferably both.

Did you know?The Argentina striker netted his 12th Premier League hat-trick – the most of any player in the competition’s history.

Now it’s your turn

You’ve seen my selections this week. But who would you go for?

The Crooks of the matter

Gambling is not only legal but has been a recreational activity in the United Kingdom for over a century. But the question I would like to pose is: should sport governing bodies be recommending it? I think not.

The Football Association has sold its football rights to betting agencies via a third party, as if that was somehow providing an arm’s length approach. So, since the start of last season, bookmaker Bet365 has had rights to show FA Cup ties on its website and app, with matches available to anyone who had placed a bet or put a deposit in their account in the 24 hours before kick-off.

But the point of the FA is to protect the sport and the millions of boys and girls around the country who play it – not encourage gambling. Players, managers and owners of clubs are excluded from engaging with betting companies, so why should the FA be any different?

The government allowing members of the public to gamble is one thing, but for a governing body to act in this way is entirely different. The FA has created a double standard and I find it unacceptable.

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[deprivedofwords]

What’s in a Name [Nick/OC]

Summery: Letting herself accept she had more than platonic feelings for the conman was difficult, knowing that he had barely platonic feelings for her was as easy as breathing.

This was a bad attempt but I wanted it posted so I would stop rewriting it. L4D2 has it's ten year anniversary this year! Wanted to do something beyond playing it again, and while I was tempted I would have felt guilty writing a multi-chapter fic on another site when I've been so negligent with my current project.

It's not my best, however I will love it like it is!

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Everything had gone to shit in that swamp.

No, in actuality everything had gone to shit quite literally when this infection spread and every bipedal mammal Sarah came across had turned into a flesh eating zombie, but for a shorter timeline she condensed her frustration to that bayou.

Disregarding how innately filthy it was and the danger that posed to everyone should they be hurt, the fact that so much destruction could be seen during that time had set the doctor on edge. Nevermind the resident conman having to put-down their pilot on account of him succumbing to the same sickness; there had been an aeroplane nestled against some trees in the middle of a expanse of water--the state of it clearly lending to the idea that it had crash landed without any survivors. She had checked anyway, a force of habit, but that whole place had nipped at her previously ironclad resolve.

At the beginning, the fact that she had found herself with four others as those helicopters left meant they had a goal she could clearly visualise. Now?

After the swamp, it had been the fact their simple plan to collect gasoline for the boat that Virgil--the kind gentleman who had picked them up from that damn swamp--had continued to be met with crap that chipped away at every little thing.

That had started with forgetting the gun bag that held the flares that they needed to use to signal Virgil to return, after all it wasn’t safe for him to park up so close to land when the infected could pounce.

Currently? They were about halfway done with this excursion. Just as rain had begun to fall around them, the group of five had barrelled into a rundown gas station. The door had been promptly closed and, thankfully, there had been a safe room inside with exactly what they needed.

Funny how gas manages to be in its intended home.

“Now, Ellis,” Sarah’s voice had come out stern. It was a tone the Savannah native had to hear whenever she patched him up, just so happened that he was on the receiving end more often than the other three, “that Hunter didn’t cut you deep, thanks to Rochelle, but be... mindful of the fact I didn’t stitch you because of that, which means you still need to make sure don’t strain your side too much.”

In hindsight she was grateful this had happened when they were out of that bayou, but whenever any of them were hurt...

“I sure will, ma’am!” The enthusiastic response from Ellis set her mind at ease.

For about half a second before she remembered who she was dealing with. The doctor parted her lips with the intention of speaking, of chiding the youngest in their group, before a more cynical tone cut her off.

“If the kid wants to get his wounds infected, I say let him. ‘Least it’ll leave a lasting impression.”

Were she at all intimidated by the man clad in a dirty white suit she would have found his presence imposing. For all the muscle Ellis had in his arms, and what she had seen while securing his bandage, he definitely lacked the aura Nick had.

From his comment alone he had stolen her attention, giving her mind ample excuse to rake her gaze along his person. He stood with a shoulder pressed against the wall by her side, forcing her to look up at the man, had she not gotten to know him--had she not been around to see where those bloodstains had originated from, were the world in a normal state and still this situation had somehow occurred where they met like this--he would certainly cut a striking figure.

In more ways than one, in her mind.

Sarah felt her lips purse at the thought, having allowed Nick’s words to register, “You know, I can subscribe to the real life lessons method of parenting but you’re telling me to leave him be. Sure, learn by understanding what you did led to this, but I can’t not make sure he’s--”

“It’s ‘cause you keep trailin’ after him like a puppy--’course he’s gonna get himself hurt, you’re the safety net, Doc.” Nick’s almost incredulous tone cut through any sort of argument Sarah could have made to justify her nature. Having watched as Nick all but waved his gun to the side to truly convey how idiotic he found her coddling was all she needed to back down.

On that front.

“Nicholas!” She cried, one hand pressed against her chest with all the horror of a duchess learning of scurvy, “Had we known your memory was that awful, we would have colour coded ourselves for your convenience. That is why you suck at it, right?”

In all honesty, joking about was the quickest defence response she had. Were she to have an actual conversation, to be serious about her fears with their lacking supplies and how not being able to see them at any given time made her fear the worst, the weight of all those possible outcomes threatened to crush her heart in a vice.

“Like I said, you didn’t have to remember mine, Scalpel.” He once again cut through all the frivolity she had built up in a matter of seconds. Without another word the conman had swiftly secured a tank of gasoline to his back--a plan she realised Coach had cooked up during the time it took to patch Ellis up--but had remained more or less by her side with a hand held out to her.

After giving the younger man’s side a soft pat she graciously took Nick’s hand as he tugged her up into a stand. She had been quick to learn to not point out when the man helped without prompting, it often lead to grumbling from Mr. Three-Thousand-Dollar-Suit. You would think having positive points was a death sentence with how vehemently he tried to counter the accusations.

Knowing that, she too took one of the tanks of gasoline and strapped it to her back; it was only when she felt how tight the straps were against her shoulders that she felt satisfied and so attempted to continue some level of revelry within the cramped quarters.

“That was thrown out before you said it, the second you ran with all of us in fact, and now we’ve been through too much together to entertain the thought,” An air of resignation fell on her shoulders then as a look flashed across Nick’s eyes--one she couldn’t fully discern--that seemed to at least signal that he wouldn’t react kindly to any further provoking. It caused her to exhale, to ease the tension in her posture that had no business being there.

Warmth felt hard to come by ever since the group had been on the run. Sarah reluctantly, far too reluctantly, took her hand from Nick’s grip and stepped away from him after that.

“Alright, everybody got a gas can?” Rochelle’s authoritative voice was welcomed, with no effort at all she had everyone’s attention, “I do not want to make this trip twice.”

“Yup,” Nonchalantly Nick’s voice rose up for the roll call, followed closely by the others chiming in to expedite the process.

Sarah’s eyes ran over the fixture at the back of the room. Pills still remained untouched and out of habit she found herself picking them up to take with her. In a moment of nostalgia her eyes flickered over to Rochelle before they returned to the pills now stuffed into the medkit on her hip; she had met Rochelle as the woman was setting up cameras for her report, herself having offered to help and talk to the crew on account of her being a doctor who had volunteered to aid CEDA.

Then the infected had gone out of control and attacked there, and the two had found themselves running up to the top of a hotel with three men just to find out that they had narrowly missed the evac.

“Back to the boat, people!”

Coach’s booming voice drew her to the present, helped further by his hand clamping down on her shoulder with a heavy nod of his head once their eyes had made contact.

It was funny how close she felt to these guys. The situation wasn’t, there was nothing comforting or natural about a zombie apocalypse, but to come out? Knowing this group? She shot Coach a smile, one he accepted as confirmation for whatever question his touch had meant, before he took point once more.

The saferoom door opened. The ferocious onslaught of rain caused hearing anything but to be nearly impossible. Thankfully, thankfully, their route was merely going back the exact way they came, their destination was their beginning, and this group was resilient. 

Forgetting the way wasn’t even an option.

Someone’s shoulder bumped against her own, forcing her feet to take a few steps and then some as the five passed out the gas station door to return to the overgrown crops.

“Look lively, Doc.”

His warmth had returned. Sarah chided herself for noticeably feeling her body relax. Everyone felt like a relation of sorts to her. Despite the age not matching, as he would have been too young, Coach felt like a father to her. Rochelle was a younger sister, Ellis was--without question--a younger brother. Nick?

A thought process she often stopped herself from pursuing, as painfully ironic as that was.

“I’m the most lively thing you’ve seen for hours,” Sarah cut herself off with a hum before she offered the conman a smile, “scratch that, most alive thing. Save for the others.”

“Don’t go changing that, gotta have someone to talk to.” A retort, one that would remind him how well he actually got along with the others, died in her throat the second he followed his comment up with a wink.

Despite herself, despite herself, Sarah shook her head to both let Nick know she really wanted to continue this combat--so long as he paid no mind to her smile--and to diminish the faintest hint of a blush she could feel on her cheeks, “You’re always so close to having almost genuine sounding comments, Nickolas.”

“Great! Seriously, don’t get used to it.” A simple brush down his clothing and he appeared physically, and mentally, prepared for the downpour, “Keep up or I’m leaving you behind, Quack.”

The smile broke out in earnest, “That one stopped annoying me the second you laughed,” The truth. He had called her a Quack and the second he saw her expression he had laughed, without remorse. 

Such moments felt as if they were a lifetime away. How had she felt so in control before now? This was, in no way, the first time they had lacked fresh medical supplies. Time seemed to wear her down, at the beginning she had tried to help rally everyone. Now it felt as if everyone had grown more resolute, and she had become forced to watch their backs as they passed by.

A vicious poke drew her from her thoughts. Her eyes focused, the jab against her forehead had left a lasting pressure, then her gaze halted. Grey. Those grey eyes were staring into her, searching for something she wasn’t privy to nor would she be. Her mind had barely caught the fact he was watching her, bent down as he was to be at eye level with her; his eyes threatened to drown her.

“You’re doing it again. Focus here or we really are gonna leave you behind.”

Oh how it thrived. That warmth, his warmth, the thoughts that came with his presence, all at once they wanted out from the slightest hint of sincerity in that pessimistic voice of his.

For an instant her thoughts told her to speak with him more, to confess how she feared for their lack of provisions, how she had been tormented with guilt familiar to almost everyone in her profession, how that guilt wrestled with the rising affection she felt ever since Nick had stopped completely shutting everyone out--

When she was back, he was gone.

Quickly assessing the area she caught the tail end of her companions booking it to the grass, unable to even hear the sound of their footfalls over the ambient noise. With a quick grit of her teeth she too darted off towards them.

Rain pelted her skin. It pounded her skull, set deep into her flesh and promised to seep into her very bones. Morning had become night without any preamble, it had shaped this situation into one that had no business being even more tense.

Zombies were enough, pathetic fallacy hadn’t needed to rear its head to cause further issues.

It was all too quick. The thick grass did nothing for her vision, that had further been impaired by the pounding rain, but realisation quickly fell over the woman.

She was alone.

The freak storm roared in absolute delight at the prospect of further cutting off her senses. Hearing was almost impossible, the thunderous thumps of every drop of rain resounded so clearly that all other sound was swallowed up and made redundant.

Dammit all. For losing her nerve, she was being rewarded with separation and no visibility too. Sarah rose her shotgun to her shoulder, her pace slowing to a crawl as she attempted to be alert. This area had been treacherous with her hearing.

Her gaze flickered up towards the building in front of her, spying the lift they could use to bypass the lower levels. No doubt traversing the other side with the water having risen would prove strenuous, at least if they were able to remain somewhat discrete they could hopefully slip past the Witches they had navigated around.

Not being able to hear their sobbing left them all at a disadvantage.

The grip on her firearm grew tighter, the doctor mentally chastising herself for falling into her thoughts again. No, she needed to focus. There should be a pipe, a huge pipe that would more or less lead her back to the shack right by the lift. If she used that pipe she would be elevated, she would be able to find the others.

It was all she had.

Her pace was far too slow, she moved as if one would be able to hear the squelching of her shoes against the muddy ground. Knowing that, nothing changed. It made for easier concentration, easier to hear anything in the immediate area.

Surely she would hear an infected screaming right by her side.

Through the crops came a peeking pipe, barely shining despite its colour due to lack of care, the faintest pang of hope shot through her chest at the sight of the beautiful beast.

Lacking any hesitation she lowered her gun to raise her elbow, effectively shielding her eyes in her pursuit of the pipe. Thankful was she that no-one decided to jump out at her, understanding how her defences had been down, Sarah climbed the pipe with precarious footing and narrowed her eyes.

Needing to use her time wisely she quickly assessed her position, noting she wasn’t too far off from the shack she recalled but how she still lacked visuals on her party. They wouldn’t have left her, they wouldn’t. Coach was a together or fight to be together kind of guy, the others definitely wouldn’t leave her behind but knowing Coach would form a plan left her in relative ease.

Still, she had to find them too.

The way up was to the north west, clearly uninhabited by any form of life and so she drew her attention elsewhere. Further eastward was a pathway that connected to the lift, and still she couldn’t see her friends. Nearer to the beginning of the patch of grass, close to the pathway and yet deeper into the crops than she had expected she spied pink. White. A baseball cap. Purple.

Lighter. Her entire body felt lighter at the sight of the four and yet nothing compared to watching as they searched, as she watched their mouths moving, as that sarcastic asshole five years her senior rose his gaze by a fraction and allowed their eyes to meet.

She would have felt utterly betrayed to know just how openly affectionate her expression had been in that instant. She beamed at Nick, waved slightly in a habitual greeting that she hadn’t shaken even during the apocalypse, before she made her way along the pipe to have an unhindered shot towards them.

Nick’s hand clasped Coach’s, drawing the older man closer to him as she watched the conman gesture towards her. Ellis and Rochelle came closer into frame then, shooting her a grin and relieved smile in turn.

That was when she felt something coil around her thigh, wrap around her waist, and constrict her neck. The shotgun flew out of her grasp as she was flung backwards, her head hitting the ground at an alarming speed. No concern was shown, her body was dragged through the mud all the way back towards the Smoker that had trapped her.

Her fingers clawed at the tongue around her neck, mind barely registering how disgusting the sensation was when it fought against her head ringing in pain and the rapid lack of oxygen she was receiving.

Clawing was all she could manage. Desperate tugs at the muscle in hopes of regaining some air to her lungs--

“Sarah!”

Was her heart playing tricks on her now, in her moment of need? Or had Nick truly closed the distance between them enough for her to hear his voice calling out to her through both the rain and her pounding head? 

How she wished he could have been a normal person who said her actual name under normal circumstances.

Yet that warmth remained.