#it was so funny the further along i got into possession island the more I was like wait. Wait. Waitttttt OK...

[goliraz]

cracker island track by track review

'review' used very loosely. These R the thoughts of a tipsy scouser

got too long so it's hidden; it is mainly critical tbh not because Im negative or mean its just my track by track thoughts and on sound alone this (2 me) was the weakest album they've ever put out

cracker island: if it came on in a club I would dance to it but I don't know if Id be having a great time. The song feels way more redundant than it might actually be because there's only like 1 melody in it. The instrumental melody & the vocals r the same. So IDK it's like. Its definitely technically a song. But it's like the bare minimum of a song

oil: I wish if any of the songs on this album broke from the popsynth fake drums mold it would be this one. The thing about Stevie Nicks is I don't listen to fleetwood mac at all but her voice is so unique and captivating. It crushes me like an anvil on my head that they didn't even let her sing on her own + kept her to a secondary harmony the whole time. This more than any of the other songs would have benefitted from real instruments IMO. The up a perfect fourth down a perfect third hook is catchy & that pattern can't fail it sounds good nomatter what.

the tired influencer: at this point in the album Im starting to wonder why they even bother with the characters playing instruments anymore cos what did noodle do on this album. There's like no guitar at all on the album. All the bass is synth bass. The characters' function in the band/story is getting less & less relevant to the music it annoys me. IDK this song is boring 2 me. Its like if the Fall was overproduced and had nothing 2 say

silent running: this song has always since it came out felt half finished. It's like the basis of a song that's not done IDK I feel like it's missing a component that might make it feel whole. The feature could have been deleted and the song would be the exact same; something I notice about the features on this album except Bootie brown & bad bunny is that they're extremely underutilized to the point where they might not have even been there. Like ur featuring an artist to do a background harmony??? Maybe this song will feel more done & real when I hear the piano version

new gold: 1 of the better ones on the album for me completely because of Bootie brown. Even though they took a rapper who is so strong and good even (especially) live and put his voice through 100million filters and dampened his skill completely. The live version of this one is how I wish it sounded on the album cos the energy of Bootie's part in that saves this song; timing is kind of cool but it's not like. New in any way.

baby queen: if they had changed the presentation of each instrumental in this song they could have made it an 80s synthpop genre piece like aries that would have been 4x better. I wish it wasn't so so so so so so boring to me. It just sounds like all the other songs on the album IG it feels like a filler song to me. Even just better/less smooth tone/effects on the synth wld have been something but suppose not

tarantula: it's catchy but it feels low effort. The lyrics r dumb IDK how else to put it not that they're inherently stupid but they're dumbed down. Compared to sum of their earlier more 'romantic' minded lyrics like every planet + some of the stuff off plastic beach, "if ur good for me and Im good for u then that's all I need in my life" sounds like a 2014 pop lyric geared towards the 11-16 age demographic u feel. Lyrically they've dumbed down their shit so much

tormenta: fine I guess. It's mid reggaeton that's too produced and smooth to even dance to. If it came on in a club compared to most other bad bunny songs I've heard not even the bad bunny fans would dance. It's like. Too slow to be what the only things going for it would suggest it is. The little synth break at around like 2:40 is the prettiest thing in the song to me I wish maybe they had leaned more towards that for tone instead of trying for something the song is just not

skinny ape: the third better song on the album. In terms of like well these are better than the rest. Like it's this new gold and oil I think. Maybe this is the song that feels the most comfortable in what it is. It sounds exactly like 2012 radio pop in the self proclaimed "alternative" genre like grouplove an shit. Like it sounds like 1 song in particular but I cant remember what it is and its driving me fucking mental. Something about it is likeable even though the lyrics are so fucking dumb I wanna tear my ears off. U are not a cartoon G damon u are an embarrassing middle aged geezer

possession island: like if Idaho kind of forgot its poignancy. But there's something really beautiful about the first minute of it. Maybe this is actually one of the better ones too. The further Im getting into it the more Im liking it. I don't see why beck had to be there. It's like the plague of this album they feature someone to literally sing backup. Anyway the further I get in this song the more I like it I think it's my favourite song on this album probably. OK goodbye

addendum: if I listened 2 any of these songs coked out of my mind they'd probably sound fine so maybe I should just save this album 4 those circumstances

[tooweirdforyou]

The OP Boys & Their Personal Dirty Secrets pt. 2

A/N : Hey hun! I hope you like this! ( i can’t tag you idk why ) I saw you wanted a part two to this and decided to do it because it was fun. I guess, lol. anyways hope you like this! :>

Soooo, don’t judge the gif I couldn’t find anything else. Also I’m kinda tired ;-; alsooo. these ones are a LITTLE bit dirtier.

Warning : NSFW AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! ⚠️ ESPECIALLY W/ THATCH.

kid and mihawk don’t have specific dark secrets since I couldn’t think of anything that would yk connect to them. ;-;

Summary : All of these boys and their personal, hidden dirty secrets. PART TWO!

-

Doflamingo

Oh boy, this male, despite his possessiveness, has a bit of a voyeurism kink. He hasn’t yet, but he DEFINITELY wants to turn on the country wide announcement, ( like those screens whatever used in Dressrosa when he talked ) and just fuck you as everyone watches throughout the island. He dreams of it, and one day, HE WILL make it a reality.

“How does it feel?” The lick of his lips and the shit-eating grin was on display all over the island for the people of Dressrosa to see, the image of Doflamingo’s hips thrusting and making contact with your rear.

“Does it feel good to have the whole island watching you being fucked senseless, by me? Their king?”

You couldn’t respond, lost in the insane amount of pleasure that ran through your body, specifically your lower regions. You didn’t even care that you were being watched, basking in the euphoria you were given at the moment.

Doffy’s strings suspended you partially in air, the material binding your body so you couldn’t move in the slightest as he took you from behind.

Arms wrapped around your bare figure, one holding you thigh tightly while the other wrapped around your torso, his hand grasping your throat and his fingers, pressing itself onto the flesh of your neck.

If you were fortunate, your face was cut off from the screen to be visible but your exposed body was seen by everyone who watched.

Doflamingo felt glory and power, as he continued to fuck you for all to see, your sweet, melodic moans echoing through the island as he did this.

What a fantasy that will soon become a reality.

-

Kid

Literally anything but also nothing. I couldn’t think of anything.. so here’s a kink he has! Dominant Submission. (?) basically, he LOVES the submissive ones, but those who really fight back. Feisty bitches yk? But like, he knows you’re all talk because he’ll have you begging for him on your knees once the two of you really get started. ;)

You’re teasing the hell out of Kid. You’re being bad by ignoring Kid and disobeying his orders and the Captain has had enough.

He barges into your room, slamming the door shut with the lock clicking on and before you could react, he has his hand around your throat and your back shoved to the wall.

“You think you’re being funny?” He growls into your ear, instantly using his free hand to rip your clothes off in a swift pull.

Despite the lack of air you had, your face still formed a sly and cheeky smirk in response. “I..I think it’s.. hilarious. Ha.”

Kid scowls before slowly smirking himself and tightened his grip on your neck a little bit more, but not enough to actually kill you. ( he cares after all :> )

“Tch. Looks like you need a punishment.” He drags you over to your bed and shoves you roughly done onto him, unbuckling his pants and pulled the belt out from the loops and pressed the two ends together so he had an able whipping belt. ( make sense? )

You merely grin at this and tilt your head. “Oh? Is that for me?” You hum and sat up, legs up and spread for him to see your already getting wet pussy, arms over you knees.

The sight of it made Kid growl lowly before he walks closer to you. “Time for you to face the consequences of pissing me off.”

With one hand, he forces you down onto the bed, breasts against the mattress and your ass forcefully in the air.

And with the raise of his other hand, it was only seconds before a loud whip was heard.

Tears stings the corner of your eyes but you still held strong, biting your lip. “Is that all you got? Guess you weren’t so angry.” You laugh and Kid didn’t respond, only whipping you once more, a little more force.

“Don’t you worry. I have all night long.”

[ I could write a whole OneShot about this, I had to stop lol ]

-

Marco

Little bit harder, buttt, come on. Sex in the air? Marco’s dream, for sure. And if he’s going to admit it, yes, he has done sexual activities in the air, where no one would be around.

The blonde doctor soars across the sky, a little ways away from the ship, not too far to lose sight but enough where he wouldn’t be seen, regardless of it being the time of night.

He’s only ever done it once or twice, but the no matter how many times Marco would do it again afterwards, the first time experience couldn’t ever be bested.

Sexual activities in the air.

Yet, that didn’t mean Marco didn’t love the thrill and excitement it brought him, especially when he did it so often in his younger days.

Extending his bright cyan blue wings out and around him, Marco palms himself through his pants, shutting his eyes before slightly lowering his pants enough to release his cock into the exposed cold air.

Marco shivers before reeling back and moving so he was laying down, his wings as support. One left propped up and his fingers wrapped itself around his shaft, his touch slow.

With nothing but the moon lighting down on him and the refreshing night breeze in the midnight sky, Marco felt at ease as he continues to rub his length in a teasingly slow motion, only increasing in speed seconds after.

Marco won’t lie, when it came to his release, he often did it into his hands and a bit dripping down onto his hips and chest,

but it felt good letting his cum spurt into the ocean.

-

Thatch

It’s pretty known that Thatch is a real perv with large sexual desires. ( at least to me because of @ honeybakedthatch lol ) however, this personal secret is his dirtiest one yet.

Thatch bit his lip as he grunted out a soft groan, feeling the rest of his warm, bitter cum shooting out from his tip and into the leftover mixture of cream and condensed milk he made for the cinnamon buns.

Pulling his pants up and zipping it tight, Thatch made sure to thoroughly mix the cum and mixture together with a plastic spoon before drizzling it over the cinnamon buns he left out just for you.

The plastered grin Thatch wore merely widens as he watched the ordinary looking cinnamon buns look identical to the others, but he knew the pleasant surprise in taste that differed.

Just as he finished drizzling the cream, the door opened, you having walked in. “Thatch, I smell something good! What is it?”

The cheery, innocent smile you had made Thatch smirk a bit, the imagination all too pleasant, the thought of you eating his delicious cinnamon buns.

“I made cinnamon buns. Here, I made these especially for you.” Thatch holds out the separate plate he had and walks closer to you, placing a sweet kiss on your temple before letting you take the plate and fork.

“Enjoy. If it’s a bit too bitter, let me know and I’ll.. sweeten it up for you.”

-

Mihawk

This stoic ass man is such an intimate, romanticist, he doesn’t quite have very dirty secrets.. but, one kink he secretly has is bondage and slight corruption. He won’t ever mention it but if you bring it up, he’ll voice his opinions on it.

“Now, now, love. You should be careful.”

Mihawk’s strict but amused tone was evident as he sat in his chair and watched you writhe in the tight black silk ribbons that bounded you on the ground.

Your arms were tied behind your back, your vision blocked by a silk blindfold and your legs were forced spread by a ankle bar, exposing your bare heat towards Mihawk.

You were leaning against a table/chair, and the only thing you could hear were Mihawk’s praises and warnings, along with the humming vibration that came from the vibrator strapped to your clit.

“You might loosen the binds, and you know you don’t want that, do you?” Mihawk sternly questions and you shook your head, biting your lip to prevent yourself from moaning out too loud.

“Oh? You aren’t responding?” Mihawk smiles slightly as he leans on his hand, elbow on the armrest of his chair. “I asked you a question.”

You gasp out in realization and stammered out, trying to close your legs from the shock and orgasm you keep receiving.

“I-I mean no.. h-hah.. ah.. I, I don’t want it to loosen.” Your blush darkens at the embarrassment you held, but you loved this, just as much as Mihawk did.

-

Shanks

I could come up with a bunch of things but the first thing my mind went to was — sex tapes. Shanks is all for EVERYTHING but I feel like sex tapes seal the deal. Especially since he hooks up with so many women, I’m sure.

Shanks watches as the woman below him arches her back and curls her toes in pure bliss and euphoria.

The loud moans escaping her lips and filling the motel rooms only edged him further.

His tight grip on the woman’s left thigh glides up to grab the soft mound flesh on her left, his fingers twisting the little perky bud as he thrusted his hips roughly into her, eliciting a louder pleasurable cry.

The sound of skin slapping was the only thing heard other than the heavy grunts of Shanks and the mewls of the woman being fucked into oblivion.

Shanks, despite having the time of his life and was nearing his climax as he continued to thrust into the two small and tight lips, it’s walls clenching around him, could only think about the recording camera on its designated position on top of the drawer.

As much as he loved the real experience at the current moment, he couldn’t wait to rewatch the recording of it and relive the experience that way.

-

A/N: here you go, hun! I know you wanted a part 2 with these characters and I hope this went out you expected and wanted! :>

A few don’t have proper endings but it’s gooddd enoughhh for me. :p

jus wondering, what do y’all think Kid has? Master, sir, daddy or captain kink? Or none and just his name?

Law def has a “doc/doctor” kink lol but since I’m at it, I don’t think Marco has that.

[tcm]

The Golden Boy, John Garfield By Susan King

Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams’ A Streetcar Named Desire was Marlon Brando’s signature role. It made the then 23-year-old Brando an overnight Broadway sensation in 1947, and he electrified movie audiences and earned his first Oscar nomination for the classic 1951 film version. But he wasn’t the first choice to play Blanche’s earthy brother-in-law. Producer Irene Selznick had her eyes on Hollywood star John Garfield, who frequently took time out from movies to return to the Great White Way for limited runs.

In fact, writer John Lahr reported in 2014 that on July 19, 1947, Selznick drew up a contract for the 34-year-old actor, “one of the few sexy Hollywood stars with a proletarian pedigree. The Selznick office leaked the big news to the press. The contract was never signed. On August 18 the deal with Garfield collapsed.”

One of the reasons bandied about was that Garfield turned down the role because the contract would have kept him away from Hollywood for too long. Though Brando is considered the performer who ushered in the more naturalistic style of acting (known as “the Method”) both on stage and in film, truth be told it was Garfield who was the catalyst for Brando, as well as Montgomery Clift, Paul Newman, James Dean and Steve McQueen.

Just look at Garfield’s first feature film, FOUR DAUGHTERS (’38). Directed by Michael Curtiz, the cast includes Lane sisters Lola, Rosemary and Priscilla, in addition to Gale Page as the four musically inclined daughters of a widower music professor (Claude Rains). Enter handsome boy-next-door Jeffrey Lynn as a budding composer named Felix who endears himself with all the daughters, especially peppy Ann (Priscilla Lane).

The household is put in an uproar with the arrival of Garfield’s Mickey Borden, the original rebel anti-hero. Unkempt, slovenly and possessing a massive chip on his shoulder, Mickey is an orchestrator who has arrived at the house to work with Felix. You can’t keep your eyes off him especially in this early monologue where he explains his anger to Ann:

“They’ve been at me now nearly a quarter of a century. No let-up. First, they said, ‘Let him do without parents. He’ll get along.’ Then they decided, ‘He doesn’t need education. That’s for sissies.’ Then right at the beginning, they tossed a coin, ‘Heads he’s poor, tail’s he’s rich.’ So, they tossed a coin…with two heads. Then for the finale, they got together on talent. ‘Sure, they said, let him have talent. Not enough to let him do anything on this own, anything good or great Just enough to let him help people. It’s all he deserves.’”

There was a sexuality and eroticism to Garfield’s performance that was 180 degrees different from Lynn’s durable and safe leading man. He was so natural; it was almost like someone found Garfield walking down the street in the Bronx and asked him to star in the movie. “He was the prototypical Depression rebellion youth,” actor Norman Lloyd told me about Garfield for the L.A. Times in 2003. They first met in 1937 and worked together on Garfield’s final film HE RAN ALL THE WAY (’51).

“He combined all of these elements of darkness and rebelliousness with the charm and the poignancy and he became the prototypical actor of that time. He never changed as a person. He remained just as a wonderful guy. He was a man of great charm, a good fellow, very likable.”

There was a lot of Mickey in Garfield, who was born Jacob Julius Garfinkle in 1913 on the Lower East Side of New York to poor Russian immigrants. Julie, as he was called, had a rough and tumble upbringing. His mother died when he was seven. “He hated his father,” his daughter Julie Garfield noted in 2003. “His father was awful to him. He was torn away from his brother.” In fact, Garfield once said that if he hadn’t become an actor, he would have been “Public Enemy No. 1.”

Unlike Mickey, the fates and destiny were looking after him. First, it was educator Angelo Patri, who became a surrogate dad to Julie at P.S. 45, a high school for troubled students. With Patri’s encouragement, he joined the debate team where he discovered he had a gift for acting. That was further nurtured when he received a scholarship to Maria Ouspenskaya’s acting school. He was all of 18 when he made his Broadway debut in 1932 in Lost Boy and became the youngest member of the progressive and influential Group Theatre, appearing in Clifford Odets’ early masterpieces Waiting for Lefty and Awake and Sing. 

Odets wrote the play Golden Boy for Garfield in 1937, but director Harold Clurman decided to give the lead role of boxer Joe Bonaparte to Luther Adler and cast Garfield in a minor role. His unhappiness with Clurman’s decision pushed Garfield into signing a contract with Warner Bros. And FOUR DAUGHTERS made him an overnight sensation. He earned a Supporting Actor Oscar nomination, but lost to Walter Brennan who picked up his second Academy Award in that category for Kentucky (‘38).

The following year, Garfield, Rains, the Lane siblings, Page and Curtiz reunited for DAUGHTERS COURAGEOUS, in which the actors played different characters from the prior film. It was probably the best film Garfield made that year. But Warner Brothers put him in a lot of movies that were unworthy of his talent including BLACKWELL’S ISLAND (’39) where he was typecast as a gangster. He made some good movies in 1941, including THE SEA WOLF, which also starred Edward G. Robinson and Ida Lupino and reunited him with Curtiz, and also Anatole Litvak’s atmospheric noir OUT OF THE FOG also with Lupino.

Because he suffered heart damage from scarlet fever, Garfield couldn’t serve during World War II. But he entertained the troops on USO tours and opened the famous Hollywood Canteen with Bette Davis so the troops could be entertained and be served by some of Hollywood’s biggest stars. Both Davis and Garfield appeared as themselves in the hit 1944 film HOLLYWOOD CANTEEN. Garfield also fought the global conflict on screen, giving one of his strongest and grittiest performances in PRIDE OF THE MARINES (’45), a poignant drama based on the life Al Schmid who was blinded by a grenade during the Battle of Guadalcanal. He returns home to his wife (Eleanor Powell) a bitter, doubting man who has a difficult time trying to deal with his new life.

The year 1946 saw the release of two of Garfield’s most enjoyable films HUMORESQUE and THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE. HUMORESQUE was his last film under his Warner Bros. contract. It’s a delicious melodramatic wallow with Garfield playing a poor New York kid who becomes a famous concert violinist. Joan Crawford, coming off her Oscar-winning triumph in Mildred Pierce (’45), plays a wealthy patroness who sets her sights on Garfield. Garfield went to MGM for POSTMAN, which was based on James M. Cain’s best-selling thriller. Garfield turns up the heat with Lana Turner as illicit lovers who brutally murder her husband only to turn on each other when they are caught.

The actor teamed up with Bob Roberts to form an independent production company, Enterprise Productions, and their first feature was the boxing classic BODY AND SOUL (’47), for which he earned his second Oscar nomination as Charley Davis, a boxer who loses his way when he gets involved with an unscrupulous promoter. Not only does he have a strong chemistry with leading lady Lilli Palmer, but also African American actor Canada Lee as Ben, a boxer with brain damage. And Garfield gets to utter one of his greatest lines in BODY AND SOUL: “What are you going to do? Kill me? Everybody dies.”

Though his next Enterprise production wasn’t a hit, FORCE OF EVIL (’48), co-written and directed by Abraham Polonsky, is a terrific film noir with a hard-hitting Garfield as a corrupt attorney trying to save his numbers-racket brother (Thomas Gomez) from his gangster boss. Garfield returned to Warner Bros. and Curtiz in 1950 for THE BREAKING POINT, which was based on Hemingway’s 1937 novel, To Have and Have Not. It’s an outstanding film noir with a superb performance from Garfield as well as from Black actor Juano Hernandez who plays his partner on the fishing boat.

THE BREAKING POINT was Garfield’s penultimate film and was not a hit because The Blacklist was engulfing Hollywood and the actor, despite the fact he wasn’t a Communist. His film career was over in 1951 when he refused to cooperate with HUAC at his hearing. Before his death of a heart attack in 1952 at the age of 39, Garfield did appear in a short-lived Broadway revival of Golden Boy, which also starred Lee J. Cobb, a young Jack Klugman and Joseph Wiseman.

Though she was only 6 ½ when he died, Julie Garfield recalls seeing her father on stage in Golden Boy where he introduced her during the curtain call. “When he smiled at you it was like being in the sun,” she noted. “He was funny and sometimes he would like to dance and kick up his legs. I remember him adoring me. He used to take me to the merry-go-round a lot in New York. He was so strong, so handsome and he loved to kid me. He would give me this mischievous smile. I wish I remembered more about him…”

[ri-ahhh]

Ooooh but like what if it's gray getting jealous and a teeny but insecure too when MJ mentions some of her work mates and other close guy friends w whom she hangs out and drinks and parties yk?And when he finally meets them he might not be able to get some inside jokes or be pissy on how touchy one of her guy bffs is?!And just goes like"baby am I too young for you?"🥺maybe some cute fluff and hot makeup sex?? ;p Sorry if this too much or straight up lame It's cool if you don't wanna concept this

Ok, first of all, I love this. Second, this is my first MJ concept and I’m soft af🥺

If there’s one personality trait Grayson Dolan wouldn't normally attribute to himself, it’s that of being easily jealous. Why would he be? His life, despite it’s occasional heavy downs, is relatively picturesque in the grand scheme of things. He’s got a loving family, an amazing career, a beautiful girlfriend, and he’s narcissistic enough to proudly say he’s a good-looking dude.

But the little green monster first starts to stir in chest when said beautiful girlfriend lays back on his chest one morning, scrolling through Instagram while the two of them laze in bed. MJ is looking through the pictures she had been tagged in at a company dinner the night before, double-tapping her phone screen occasionally and diverting his attention away from his own phone when she does.

“Who’s that?” he asks, trying to sound as casual as possible as he eyes a certain picture with slightly narrowed eyes.

“Hm?” MJ had already scrolled down to the next photo, but she goes back to the one in question. Grayson points to the guy standing next to her. “Oh. That’s Jesse. He’s one of my teammates.”

Grayson doesn't respond right away, his gaze focused on the way the attractive young man has his arm wrapped tightly around MJ’s waist in the group photo. MJ is leaning away from him, but it still gives him a bad vibe — not from her, but from him.

“He looks friendly.”

MJ glances up at him and slaps the other side of his bare chest with the back of her hand jokingly. “Relax, we all had to squeeze in to get the picture. He’s just a colleague.”

“Yeah, to you,” Grayson mumbles. He tosses down his phone and turns on his side so he can throw his arm over her middle, nuzzling into her hair.

MJ smiles and scratches her nails up and down his sculpted arm, his warm breath tickling her ear. He’s not really the possessive type, too confident in himself and trustworthy in her for this to have ever been an issue in their relationship, but her work world is one entirely separate from him. She doesn’t think it’s too irrational for him to be suspicious, especially since she can admit feeling a little iffy about the way Jesse had so easily sidled up to her for that photo.

She shifts her head on the pillow so she’s facing him, kissing his lips softly but soundly. It’s an unspoken reassurance between them, and they both let the topic go.

A few days later, they’re in the kitchen together, a pass only she is allowed while Grayson cooks. MJ sits on the island, her feet dangling over the cabinets as Grayson stirs the vegetables he’s sautéing on the stove, when her phone buzzes on the marble countertop beside her. She picks it up and chuckles, her manicured fingers typing away.

“What’s so funny?” Grayson asks nosily.

MJ hits ‘send’ in the text response she wrote. “Jesse sent a stupid meme that reminded him of this super difficult exec we have to deal with for one of our clients.” She holds up her phone so Grayson can see it, but without the further context he doesn’t really see the humor in it. It causes a weird sensation to bubble in his stomach, one he can’t quite place, but it definitely makes him give the veggies an extra vigorous stir that has some of them flying out of the pan on accident.

He draws the line on this guy in his head when MJ sends him a text the next afternoon while he’s in a Wakeheart meeting downtown, just a few blocks from her office.

ugh baby i’m so sorry i have to cancel our lunch date :/ jesse wants to keep working on this report we have due this afternoon and i’ll look like a dick if i leave.

Grayson huffs and feels the back of his neck flush with anger. Why is Jesse controlling whether or not she can take her lunch break? She has a habit of skipping it to begin with, which Grayson can’t stand and actively tries to make sure she doesn’t do, so his irritation with this dude is through the roof now. His mind can’t help but wander to the possibility that maybe Jesse is doing it on purpose; he knows for a fact all of her coworkers know about him, so who’s to say he’s not trying to keep her to himself today? Before he can type out a heated response, however, MJ double-texts.

i promise I’ll make it up to you tonight. whatever you want, on me. literally and figuratively ;)

She knows him too well, can probably sense his frustration a few streets away. Grayson sighs, but his mouth lifts in a little smile, because he loves her and he’s low-key looking forward to that promise now.

Alright. I’ll be thinking about that to get me through this meeting. Pls eat tho baby, it makes me worry when you don’t.

me too lol. and gonna order some kreation now, don’t worry. ily

She punctuates her message with a few heart emojis, and Grayson returns the sentiment before pocketing his phone once more. His mind is far from the financial projections he’s supposed to be paying attention to, but luckily this is much more Ethan’s territory in the business than his, anyways.

Friday, he and MJ are cuddling on the couch watching a movie when out of nowhere she gasps a little and sits up from where she’s leaning on him. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. You and E doing anything tomorrow?”

Grayson chuckles and shakes his head, amused by the suddenness of her question. He pushes a lock of her hair, damp from their shared shower, behind her ear. “Not that I know of, other than we might go to the skatepark.”

MJ grins. “Well, my boss is making us do our monthly team-building workshop at a climbing gym, if you want to tag along. I don’t think you’ll be able to join us during the middle of it, obviously, but afterwards it would give you the chance to meet some of the people I work with, if you want.”

He considers it. He hasn’t been climbing in a while, and he’s actually been itching to get back into it. Not to mention, it’ll give him a chance to keep an eye on Jesse while he’s around MJ in the skin-tight lycra she wears to work out in.

“Yeah, I’m down. I’ll ask E if he wants to come, too.”

The next day, the three of them roll up to the gym in Ethan’s Tesla. Grayson wastes no time in taking MJ’s hand in his as they walk through the parking lot, just in case a certain set of eyes are watching. MJ squeezes his fingers reassuringly; she’s not dumb, not impervious to the fact that when he kisses her goodbye once they step inside and before they go their separate ways that he had caught a glimpse of the man from the picture that put his guard up to begin with.

When he pulls back but makes no move to join Ethan on the other side of the gym, MJ shakes her head with a grin and cups his cheek softly.

“No need to stake your claim, Neanderthal,” she says.

He looks down at her with a pout that makes her heart and her panties melt. His wide hands plant themselves on her hips and tug her a little closer to him, anyways. “Am I being obvious?” he asks.

“Only to me,” she winks, rising on her toes to give him one more chaste kiss. “Now go with E, before Chanel gets here and I have to reverse the roles.”

Grayson laughs but does as he’s told, giving her waist a gentle squeeze before they part ways. MJ’s company had rented half of the gym, which was roped off for them. He chooses the open wall closest to the one they're using, eager to keep his girlfriend as nearby as possible for the couple of hours they would be separated.

As he sits on a bench and slips on his climbing shoes, Grayson can’t help but search out where Jesse is. He’s easy to spot, that’s for sure. Not only is he already next to MJ, chatting animatedly while she smiles and nods politely in return, but he stands out with his curly mop of hair, caramel-colored skin, and pale blue eyes. Maybe his attractiveness is part of the reason Grayson is somewhat intimidated by his obvious interest in MJ, but he’s also part of her everyday life, one he knows nothing about other than what she shares with him.

It’s never been something that bothers him, because it’s healthy to have a life outside of a relationship, but he’s always dated — hooked up, whatever you want to call it — in his industry. There was always a mutual understanding of what work and life in general entailed with those flings, and it’s taken Jesse for him to suddenly realize he doesn’t have the experience or the knowledge of how to handle his feelings with that not being the case with MJ. It makes him feel out of control, not good enough somehow.

Grayson Dolan does not like to be out of control and he most certainly does not like being below his own standards.

“Who’s that?”

Grayson is brought out of his daze by his brother’s voice and the hand he had clapped to his shoulder. If he were able to laugh at himself in this moment, he might have found Ethan’s question funny, since it was exactly what he’d said when he first saw Jesse, too. Ethan’s gaze is fixed on MJ and the man in question, who had placed his hand on her elbow as he talked only for MJ to duck down to ‘tie her shoe.’

“Jesse,” is all he says, standing up to buckle his chalk belt around his waist.

“Oh,” Ethan replies, nodding his head a little. “Do we like him?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Ethan becomes another set of eyes for Grayson while they climb, giving him nudges or a little whistle every time he catches Jesse standing a little too close to MJ, or finding a reason to touch her, or to ‘help’ her as she climbs up the wall. Grayson glowers over every time, trying his best but probably failing to not to come off as the jealous boyfriend. Every once in a while MJ will catch his eyes, giving him a quick wave or a thumbs-up with a pretty smile just for him. It makes his heart settle some, only for his chest to tighten again when Jesse starts cheering for her a little too loud.

The two hours pass by a little faster as he settles into the rhythm of climbing, trying to put her touchy coworker in the back of his mind. He trusts MJ with everything in him, but he knows how men can be — ignorant either by choice or by idiocy to a woman’s obvious signals of disinterest.

“Gray!”

He’s just reached the top of the wall when his girlfriend’s voice cuts clear through the loud chatter around them. He looks down and sees her on the mat, hair pulled back in a cute high ponytail, freckled cheeks flushed from the exertion of the day, as she waves him down with that same bright smile.

He grins, excited to have her to himself once again. “One sec!”

Once he’s made it back down the wall, he greets her with a kiss. She’s tied her jacket around her waist, leaving her top half covered only by a pretty green sports bra that happens to be both his favorite color and one that makes her eyes pop beautifully.

“I like this,” he says suggestively, hooking his finger in one of the straps and tugging gently.

MJ rolls her eyes and reaches up to adjust the center of the Wakeheart cap he’s got backwards over his hair. “Come on. You can meet the idiots I have to put up with every day.”

She leads him to the group, who are all standing around chatting, gulping down water, gathering keys and such as they prepare to leave. He gets introduced to them a couple at a time. Some of them he recognizes by name, such as Valentina and Jude (both of whom MJ actually likes and considers friends), MJ’s intern Alessia, and Chanel, of course, who bats her eyes so obnoxiously it’s almost comical.

And then there’s Jesse, who’s immediately sizing Grayson up with those striking eyes as soon as they approach him standing in the corner on his phone. Grayson doesn’t back down in the slightest, a smirk fixing itself on his lips when MJ leans into him and wraps her arm around his back. He drapes his own over her shoulders, pulling her that much closer to him.

“Hey Jess. This is the famous boyfriend I’ve told you all about,” she introduces, patting a hand on his hard stomach and smiling up at him for a moment.

Grayson lets go of MJ long enough to extend his hand. “Grayson.”

Jesse accepts and shakes his hand politely. “Jesse. MJ and I are teammates.”

“So I’ve heard,” he says, keeping a tight smile on his face as Jesse continues to square up to him, like Grayson has posed some kind of challenge.

Jesse nods, a grin of his own popping up as he gets the idea that MJ has maybe talked about him before. Grayson wants to roll his eyes, but he stays trying to be the bigger person here.

“So what do you do, Grayson?” Jesse asks.

Another hot flash overcomes him. He’s heard the question often enough to know there are two ways people ask it: innocently and genuinely; or knowingly and almost maliciously, like Jesse is now, waiting for him to say the ‘i’ word and berate him for it passive-aggressively.

MJ tightens her arm around him some, and it calms him down enough to answer with an even tone. “I do social media.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, though,” MJ steps in for him with a grin. “He and his brother have a whole production team under them. And they're CEO’s and part-owners of a fragrance company, Wakeheart. I think I’ve told you, whenever you compliment my perfume, that it’s Grayson’s, right?”

She’s incredible, really. Grayson smiles and shows off the diamonds in his teeth, which glint in the harsh artificial light. “Well, Jesse, if you like MJ’s perfume so much, I’d be glad to send you our whole collection. Maybe you’ll find one that’s right for you.”

He can see Jesse’s resolve start to waver, especially when MJ stands on her toes to kiss Grayson’s stubbled cheek. “Very generous, huh Jesse?”

Jesse clears his throat and digs his keys out of his pocket tellingly. “Ah, yeah. Thanks, man, good to meet you. See you Monday, MJ.”

He brushes past the couple without another glance, and he at least has the decency to blush a little from embarrassment. MJ turns and wraps her arms around Grayson’s middle, staring up at him with big green eyes that sparkle with amusement.

“Do you think he got the picture that I’m completely, totally, head over heels in love with you?” she asks, swaying slightly as he wraps his arms around her as well. “And that he has no chance in this universe whatsoever?”

“I don’t know, I feel like you could’ve laid it on a little thicker. Hyped me up a bit more,” Grayson jokes, dipping down to brush her lips with his. A blonde statue glares at the pair of them when he pulls back and glances over MJ’s head. “Chanel is staring daggers at us. Should we make out right here so she can see how I feel the same about you?”

MJ giggles and shakes her head. “Unfortunately, nothing will faze that bitch.” She nuzzles his nose with hers affectionately, the chaste display a perfect disguise for the dirty whispers that comes out of her mouth next. “Mm, my CEO boyfriend can take me home, though, and fuck me nice and hard in the shower.”

Grayson’s eyes turn a shade darker, and he bites his plump lower lip. He wants to slip his hands down to her ass, but he’s also very aware of how public they are right now. “If we even make it to the shower,” he murmurs.

MJ scrunches her nose and raises her brow in a look of mild disgust. “Gray, if you think I’m sucking your dick after it’s been in a cup for nearly three hours, without you taking a shower, you better think again. I don’t think even Chanel is down for that.”

Grayson lets out a belly laugh and releases her, taking her by the hand instead to go find Ethan. “Noted, baby. Noted.”

[rivahisu107]

The Unresolved Baby Subplot Chapter 4: Two Ackermans & Two Plotholes

With Levi and Hange out of the way, the island of Paradis is descending further into unrest: the Jaegerists are gaining control, the wine plan has been exposed, and Marley is on its way for retribution. Would any of this had happened if the Queen were not having a child under the strangest of circumstances? 

Meanwhile, Eren’s friends have been hurt by his apparent betrayal, but Mikasa has taken the worst of it. Eren claims that as an Ackerman, she latched onto him as a host due to her genetics and claims that he has always hated her. And now they are being held in prison as Yelena provides her side of the story. But what does this have to do with the baby? And what else can we learn about the Ackermans?

Hold on, we’re in for a wild ride and a callback to an overlooked but vital clue from Clash of the Titans in the latest install of this (conspiracy) theory for the unresolved baby subplot! Because let me tell you, there is a key piece of evidence here that almost certainly proves the paternity of the child.

Yelena is coolly explaining the logistics of Zeke and Eren’s secret plan to the Corps. With sterilization, the Jaeger brothers will save the world from the curse of the Subjects of Ymir by taking out their reproductive abilities. Unfortunately, this is met with complete disgust- and mockery on Armin’s part- from the Corps. But how exactly will this plan protect Paradis from invasion until the last of the people die out? Let’s let Yelena explain with a cameo from Historia:

To compare to the fifty year plan:

Both involve using a partial Rumbling as a deterrent force.

Both involve maintaining the Founder.

Both need the royal family. 

The problem is... on repeat readings, Yelena is not making much sense here, and the euthanasia plan has a huge plot hole. Why? Let’s do a breakdown. 

“Both the Founder and the royal family must be maintained.” 

Problem one. Assuming euthanasia succeeds, there will be no more possibility of Historia having more royal blood children, but she will have one child- and from the reader’s perspective, this is her child who is assumed to be born of her and of the normal, humble farmer. Sounds good so far, right? But what is Yelena saying here? The Founder can only be used as a deterrent if possessed by either 1. a person of royal blood or 2. a non-royal blood user of the Founder and a royal blood Titan. And Yelena is saying that these must be maintained separately. Huh? And what happened to Historia inheriting the Beast Titan? It could still be part of the plan, but that leads to problem two. 

“So long as a few Subjects of Ymir inherit the Founding Titan until that child passes from the world.”

See? Nothing about the two remaining members of the royal family inheriting the Titan Shifters. Only a few non-royal Subjects of Ymir are going to be getting the Founder. Even assuming the Beast Titan would be inherited by Historia and then her child, their life spans would only be totaled twenty-six years. This is not enough time to wait for all the Subjects of Ymir to die off. Besides, Yelena only mentions the child. It seems that the royal family would have been spared turning into Titan Shifters. 

The problem is: How is a child of royal blood, who is not going to be given a Titan Shifter to inherit, going to protect the island for at least fifty or so years until the population dies off by working together with the non-royal Founder users?

I’m sorry, dear readers, but I will just say here. If you still think that this child is supposed to be the child of a nameless, faceless farmer at this point, then you are fools. Yes, Historia doesn’t have to love somebody who has special abilities that could be passed on to her children, but with a plot hole like this, there has to be something bigger going on. You do not have to be special to be born into the world, but clearly there is something special about this child that could be easily exploited by Yelena and the like. 

...

Alright, time to travel back to Clash of the Titans arc! Wait, what? Why here? It features a huge moment with the main couple of the manga. Remember, Eren thinks back to this time during the time skip when he realizes just how he activated the Coordinate for the first time. 

As he and Mikasa were about to die and he promised to always wrap that scarf around her, Eren, unknowingly possessing the Founder along with the Attack Titan, got the strength to punch back the Titan who later turned out to be Dina Fritz, the royal blooded mother of Zeke, and activated the Coordinate to control the Titans and get revenge for Hannes’ death. We all know that now, correct?

The Corps is making its getaway, but then they have Reiner and Bertholdt to deal with as well. Reiner correctly predicts to us readers that Eren is the most dangerous person to possess the Founder. And then Eren uses its power again. 

What’s going on here? Eren activated the Coordinate again without being in contact with a Titan of royal blood! The only person he is in physical contact with is Mikasa Ackerman.

Ackerman. 

We all know Eren lied about the Ackerman slave thing, but he mixed in some lies with the truth about Ackermans. This is what else he had to say based on his conversations with Zeke, who has all these memories of Tom Ksaver’s work with the Titan Research Society with all kinds of info about Titans and the Ackerman clan.

“A bloodline that could partly manifest the strength of a Titan while in human form.”

Oh! So that explains why Mikasa and Levi are so strong and heal faster than normal Eldians and why they are also immune to memory wipes. Okay, they’re Titans in human form, so how could Mikasa activate the Coordinate at least partially?

Well. In Chapter 107, the same chapter that Historia is revealed to be pregnant under unusual circumstances, we have a flashback and visit from Hizuru, the land of some of Mikasa’s lineage on her mother’s side. And what do we learn from Kiyomi? Mikasa is the descendent of the shogun- the royal family- who was left behind and lost on Paradis for at least a century! A lost princess! 

Dear readers, Mikasa has been the key this whole time. She, a person of Ackerman, normal Eldian, and royal blood of Hizuru, managed to activate the Coordinate by being in contact with Eren, even if it was only a partial activation. 

This here is the answer to the euthanasia plothole. This is also almost absolute proof that this child was intended to be Levi and Historia’s child. An Ackerman with Eldian royal blood would have the ability to manifest the strength and powers of a Titan without having to turn into a Titan. And when in contact with the Founder, they would be able to use the Coordinate to defend the island. And the child would be able to live out a full life, so no worries about Titan shifting. 

But unfortunately, this would mean using the child as a tool, used for causing mass destruction no matter if one is pro-euthanasia or pro-Rumbling. The parents of the child would likely be opposed to this, and Eren himself has qualms with using children. It’s no wonder that Yelena and Floch were more than happy to get their number one threat, Levi, out of the way, and Hange as well.

Oh. Oh oh oh. And if you want to see some classic Isayama trolling, check out this Q & A from the August 2018 magazine- you know, the magazine with Chapter 107, the pregnancy plot reveal. 

Um, yeah, so it seems that this was what Isayama was going for all along with the pregnancy subplot. 

Unfortunately, it never amounted to anything really, not even symbolically. We still don’t have all our answers for it explicitly made. It’s rather too bad, because there is potentially further proof I found- and a plothole- that connects to this, also about Ackermans.

...

Chapter 126 opens with Hange killing off several Jaegerists while protecting a comatose Levi. She tends to his wounds and delivers some exposition about Ackermans which fits with the previous chapter about euthanasia and the child. 

What is the problem here? In story, we never find out the reason how Hange even knows this. In Chapter 108, the Corps was discussing inheriting the Founder, and Jean mentioned that at the time about a year before the Rumbling, they didn’t even understand what the Ackerman clan was. 

So, how does Hange know this, and why is it so important to know that Ackermans can’t turn into Titans? Sure, the two known members of the clan were the only two people who were left to kill Eren because they were immune to the centipede which just vanished for unknown reasons after Eren died, but I am asking how Hange knew this in the first place. Why?

“Everyone was turned into Titans, but only you survived.”

Hange hadn’t seen Levi in at least a month. There is no way that Hange could have asked him if he drank the tainted wine or seen him drink it and then go on to conclude that Ackermans can’t turn into Titans without affirming the former was done while he was unconscious. 

One thing about Hange post time skip is that the focus is on her being commander without much for the Titan science aspect. There is one obscure moment from Chapter 109 that got me thinking. While she is having a moment of frustration, she suddenly collects herself and states:

What does she need to study? Is she trying to find more solutions to the problem at hand? I don’t know if books will really help them in the situation of, “What to do when the Queen is pregnant and can’t become a Titan Shifter to guarantee the island’s safety while trying to prepare for a global strike because Eren was an idiot and acted alone”, but I do have to wonder here. Could Hange have been trying to study something about the Ackerman clan, something about a potential child with mixed genes? 

The above is more of a guess from me than anything, but it’s the only thing I could find that would explain how Hange would make such a bold statement without seeing the evidence- that would make her a bad scientist. 

Funny enough, as readers, believe it or not, we might have proof that at some point, even if not in the forest, that Levi did drink tainted wine. It’s blink and you miss it. 

A few chapters back, I speculated about the banquet and Levi being counted as top brass, the only section of the military permitted to drink the wine. Again, without seeing the banquet ever, this point is hard to prove, but it’s not impossible to think that it would happen. It’s in Chapter 112 when Zeke’s plan goes into action that we can see something happen to Levi’s body.

There is a twitch effect surrounding his body going through his hair and clothes. The brass from many miles away felt a reaction go through their bodies too akin to a shock or a twitch. And to see what the anime staff did, check out this blink and you miss it GIF.

Furthermore, check out this dialogue.

“When’d he start tainting it?” 

Oh dear. He really screwed up in many ways this arc. But he is one of the lucky ones indeed. If he weren’t an Ackerman, he’d be long dead in the story. 

...

That was a lot of ground to cover in this chapter, but perhaps we have struck through the surface of the mystery of the Ackerman clan in the most unexpected ways. 

The next chapter will feature bits and pieces of odd evidence that could be key to the unresolved baby plot. After Chapter 123, it seems that the whole thing is almost forgotten, so I do question if there really was a retcon or a change to a more open ending with it all. Even if what is said in the following chapters has nothing to do with the baby, the buildup theorized about here may unlock a few of the creative decisions made.

[ianite-simp]

take it upon yourself pt. 2

part 1

Spending more time with Dianite came naturally to Jordan. Things were somehow… just like they’d always been.

 Of course, he shared more than he used to. That was a change. With Ianite, there were more secrets. No, not quite secrets, just boundaries. She didn’t take much interest in mortal affairs, especially when it had to do with the other champions. Not that it bothered Jordan. She was still learning, still figuring out how to be a goddess. He could understand her lack of interest. God knows how many times he zoned out when she was talking about growing up with her siblings.

But with Dianite, it was different. Talking to him about things was easy, simple. He’d appear randomly throughout the day, generally when Jordan was absorbed in some menial task that didn’t require much focus. It was always when he was frustrated over some thing or another, when the strain was getting just a little too much. He was almost always entirely engrossed by whatever he was working on. A soft touch on his shoulder, fingers combing through his hair, a chin nuzzled softly against his neck - the god always found some way to capture his attention.

“Stressed?” 

“You think?” There was a shadow of a smile on his face, contrary to his short tone. 

“Tell me about it?” The god’s voice was quiet, a warm whisper in his ear.

So he did. And somehow, just by talking, just by letting out his frustration about Tom’s latest prank, just by sharing Karl’s latest additions to his island, just by talking about absolutely nothing at all - somehow, it made things a little easier.

~

As the days went on, Jordan found himself settling into his new rhythm with a surprising ease. He managed his own work, until one or the other called on him to do something for them. Working with them was easy enough. That was a funny thing, when he considered it. Things had grown to a point where he wasn’t just completing tasks for them, running to do as they beckoned. No, he was almost an equal. Only when he was working, of course. He wasn’t going to drop the formalities, lose the respect he had for the pair. He knew his place. 

The only concern he had (aside from constantly having to shoulder all responsibility for maintaining peace on the islands) was Ianite finding out he was assisting her brother. As far as he knew, Ianite knew nothing of the deal he had made with Dianite. If she did, she said nothing. That worked for him. As reluctant as he had been initially, Dianite had been far more… passive than he had anticipated. None of his requests had been particularly out of the ordinary, or worrying. Yeah, spending three days searching for a very specific sort of flower for the god was annoying as hell, but it was nothing other than time consuming. Besides, the god had the tendency of rewarding him with trinkets and tools - gifts that he could pass off easily enough as something he made himself. But he knew their real value. 

It was interesting. From Ianite, he had never needed the material to understand her appreciation for him. A simple word of praise was enough. But Dianite liked to be flashy, he liked to throw in a bit of flair wherever he could.

Jordan found the gifts left just outside his house, no note or anything. Just a plain chest, as inconspicuous as any other thing on his island. Brimming with curiosity, he flipped the lid open immediately. A dark, greenish smoke billowed out instantly, and he stumbled back a step or two, coughing as the noxious clouds crept into his lungs. Probably the god's idea of a joke, he assumed. Brushing the last tendrils away from the chest, he carefully extracted the shining blade.

The taut leather wrapped hilt fit perfectly in his hand, as though it had been made for him and him alone to wield. The blade itself was perfectly balanced. “As all things should be.” He murmured, running a fingertip along one honed edge. “Thank you, m’lord.”

~

"Haven't seen much of you recently, bro. Doing good?" He cast a subtle glance around the room, quickly taking it in. The tower had changed, that was for sure. The broad windows that had once allowed bright sunlight to stream through were covered with dark drapes, the only light the flickering halos cast by the lanterns hung from the ceiling. Maybe it was just the lighting, or maybe he just needed more sleep, but every so often he caught glimpses of writhing tendrils flitting across the ground, among the drapes, across the furnaces. A faint flash of green, a shadow that almost wriggled along a surface, the closer glances he stole only put him further on edge.

"Busy with a lot." Jordan didn't turn from where he stood, rummaging through one of his chests. His response was unusually short, not quite snippy but not exactly friendly. Scratching the side of his nose, Karl squinted in the dim lighting as he studied the captain. He was normally the most put together of the bunch, clothes neatly pressed, hair combed back or at least trimmed. But the man’s hair was a ruffled mess, curling below his ears, little strands continually falling into and getting pushed out of his eyes. His clothes were just as unkempt, wrinkled and looking as though they had been slept in for the past week

"Too busy to hang out with your mates? Tom's driving me over the edge with his nonsense." He said it with a laugh, jerking his hand away from the furnace it rested on at the approach of one of the drifting smoke motes. Creepy looking things, that's what they were. Jordan didn’t seem to notice them, though, despite the way they seemed to gravitate towards him, then back, then towards him again, like some strange tides.

Jordan shrugged, pulling something from the depths of the storage. An arrow, it looked like. Leaving the chest ajar, he strode to his ender chest, where he quickly began sorting through its contents in search of something. "Just helping out m'lady, working on the island. You know, time flies."

His attention caught by something glinting in the open chest, Karl wandered over. "Woah, cool sword bro. Where'd you get it?" He ran his hand over the flat of the blade, testing the edge with the pad of his thumb. Lethally sharp.

A sharp prick in the center of his neck made him freeze. The tip of the arrowhead was cold, numbingly cold. It seemed to freeze the skin it touched, sending a tremor through his skin. A slender tendril of smoke crept over his shoulder, a swirling strand of deep green that seemed to move with a will of its own. The same smoke that curled almost imperceptibly across the captain's skin.

"Hands away from that." His voice was low, so dangerously low. Carefully, ever so carefully, he moved his hands from the slender blade, raising them defensively in the air. Sudden movement would mean certain death, he knew that much. Jordan had always been possessive of his belongings, but actually threatening him? That was… new, to say the least.

Doing his best to keep his outward appearance calm, he quickly started to say, "Bro, I didn't-"

"Stop bothering me." His voice was low, dangerously so. "This is none of your business." The point of the arrow dug against the bare skin of his neck. He swallowed anxiously, his mouth forming noiseless words as he tried to find something to say that wouldn't result in him getting shot. Jordan was terrifyingly accurate with that bow, and he didn't much fancy being skewered by it. Something about the eerie smoke told him the death wouldn't be temporary.

"Leave." One word. One command. Yet the weight behind it was all too powerfully present.

"Yeah, sure. On my way out, I'll… I'll see you around." The words caught in his throat, but he forced them out regardless. Slowly, painfully slowly, he took a step away. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then he opened the door with an impressively steady hand. Then he was outside, away from the dark. Away from the arrow at his back. Away from that terrifying, quiet, collected Jordan.

That wasn’t the Jordan he was used to. When Jordan got mad he was loud and spluttering with righteous indignation. He had no qualms with telling the world that he was upset, and that something was wrong. But that? That wasn’t normal.

Something wasn't right. But the question was what exactly?

~

There was so much to do. Always so, so much to do. It felt like every time he turned around there was another problem that needed fixing, another quest to go on, another task from the gods. It was getting to him a little, he knew. He had covered his windows, the rising and setting of the sun only reminding him of how behind he was on everything. Besides, it was so much easier to work in the cool, quiet dark, removed from distractions and interruptions. Silly, inconsequential things like pranks had long since fallen from his agenda. He was too busy to be distracted by things like little feuds. 

Now, his somewhat unkempt appearance was annoying, to be sure, but he just didn’t have the time to manage it. So he simply got rid of the small mirror by his bed. If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t a problem. There was just no time in his schedule for frivolous things, no time to do what he wanted.

But he was doing what he wanted, wasn’t he? He was helping his goddess, and his god. Temporary god, at least. He had to remind himself of that. The deal with Dianite was just that, a deal. But for some reason, when he finally got the air stone, Dianite was just as regular in his visits. There were less requests, to be sure, but the god seemed to be intent on keeping up the temporary god-follower relationship.

Not that Jordan minded, really. The connection to Dianite was turbulent and energizing. Where his bond with Ianite filled him with a collected, calm sense of determination, that of Dianite’s fueled him with a turbulent, electric energy. It filled and satiated a part of his mind he never knew existed, a part of his mind that always wondered but never knew, a part of his mind that seemed to have always been devoted to the god.

And there was nothing wrong with following two gods, of course. He was just as devoted to his lady as ever. Almost more than ever, as though he were trying to prove to someone that his loyalty to her would never waver. He just found that a new loyalty could be forged and maintained alongside it. It added more work to his days, to be sure, but who else would do it? He was the only one who could manage it, make it all run smoothly.

A break was impossible. The only respite he got was when he would eventually fall into a deep slumber for a few hours each night, bone-tired yet with a mind still racing to sort out the work to  be done tomorrow. The dark shadows that filled the room seemed to embrace him as he collapsed into the soft sheets of his unmade bed, his wavering vision making the shadows look almost like grasping hands that curled over his torso, his exhausted limbs too heavy to move as his eyes fell shut and his vision fell to the darkness. 

But he was managing it, despite the aimless thoughts and wishes that came creeping and slipping into the back of his mind as he drifted off. Sometimes he found himself wishing that the day had more hours, or he had more hands, or had someone who could help shoulder the work. But what good could that possibly be? Because at the end of the day, he knew he was the only one capable enough to handle it. Because he was the only one who could do it all, and he knew so.

~

“Jordan!” Tom’s voice was loud, demanding, a bit annoying.

“What?” He didn’t mean to come off as exasperated, as irritated as he did. There was just so much to be done, and the morning’s quest had already taken long enough to handle. Still, he didn’t want to sound rude. He had been spending little enough time with the others, no reason to be impolite on top of that. So he sighed, muttering, “Sorry, what is it?”

“Your island, er, what’s up with that? Looking a little…” The zombie drawled the word out, as he seemed to be searching for the proper word. “Smokey?”

“Really?” A surprised look crept onto his tired face, as he turned to look back at his island, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look. Sure, it looked a little hazy, but it didn’t seem too weird. Probably just the smoke from his furnaces, he’d been smelting quite a bit of netherite recently. “Doesn’t seem weird to me.”

He turned back to the others, who were looking oddly… confused? “What?” He demanded, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your e-”

“Nothing, mate. Nothing. Just a trick of the light. Catch you later at Hermod’s place? He said he made a new batch of mead for us.” Karl hastily interrupted Tom, an unusually friendly smile on his face.

“No thanks, got some things I need to take care of.” Jordan forced himself to smile back, though he couldn’t suppress the feeling that they were hiding something from him. He could ask them about it some time later, he wanted to get out of the hot sun and back to his place where he could get back to work.

~

“You saw it too, didn’t you? His eyes, the purple ring around them’s gone half red.”

“Yeah, I did. And the dark line between ‘em? Weird.”

“Why didn’t you let me say anything? Jordan’s a shit liar, he’d explain.”

“Because you’d piss him off, he’s been touchy lately.”

“He’s always touchy though, I just-”

“Nah, it’s different. He’s been acting weird. Cap’s a scary man, I don’t want to mess with him when he’s upset.”

“Pfft, sure.”

~

“So you haven’t given her the stone yet.” It wasn’t a question, the way it was said was too assertive, too self-confident. 

Jordan stiffened slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck raising at the sudden voice, though the faint scent of wood smoke had alerted him to the god’s presence before he even spoke. “Not yet.” He answered shortly, not raising his eyes from the sword he was polishing.

“And you haven’t given me my fire stone yet.”

“Not yet.”

“Captain, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were keeping them for yourself.” A hand lifted his chin, forcing his focus away from the blade resting in his lap. “Trying to be a god, are you now?”

“That’s against our contract, m’lord.” He said evenly, eyes meeting Dianite’s over the top of his glasses. 

The god chuckled, running a finger along Jordan’s jaw, before he dropped it to ruffle his hair. “Of course it is. But you’ve always been one to find loopholes in things like that.” Jordan was silent, returning his eyes to the cloth he ran methodically over the sword he held. He couldn’t quite ignore what the god had said to him, but he could at least ignore the god for the time being.

He was going to give the gods the stones he had promised them, of course he was. It was just that for the time being, they made it easier for him to manage things. Carrying them, he felt energized, he felt stronger, he felt powerful. They gave him a tantalizingly small dose of power - just enough to leave him craving just a little more, just a tiny bit more. It was so much easier to carry out the work he had to do in a day when he had those stones with him. So of course it left him wondering just how good it would feel to have all four, to be as powerful as a god - to be a god.

But it was only a daydream. He was content as he was. Really, he was. Dianite treated him almost as an equal, Ianite too. He didn’t need to be a god to feel fulfilled. He was only holding onto the stones for safekeeping. Because there was always a chance that Dianite would pass off a stone to Tom for a while, and the idea of Tom having the stones was almost infuriating. Tom didn’t deserve them. Tom didn’t work as hard, didn’t push himself to work as hard as Jordan did. No, he deserved to keep hold of the stones, if only for a while longer. Besides, the gods would have all of eternity to do what they wanted with the stones once they got them, he only had the lifespan of a mortal. There could be no harm in him keeping them a bit longer.

“I admire your dedication, Captain, but I must say that if you polish that sword any further there’ll be no blade left.” He was pulled from his thoughts by a quietly chiding voice, and a hand gently taking the polishing cloth from his hand.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” He blinked a few times, standing up abruptly. No point in wasting time, he had more important things to be doing than just daydreaming.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to the sword for trying to scrub it out of existence." The god's teasing tone reminded Jordan faintly of Ianite, the siblings had the same playful tone at times.

"Sure, definitely will do that." He rolled his eyes, as he carefully hung the sword on the wall. Before he could turn around again, he felt the god's presence directly behind him, the god's chin resting in the crook of his neck.

"Your hair looks nice."

"I need to cut it, I know." Jordan wrinkled his nose as he batted a particularly annoying strand from his eyes.

The god tsked impatiently at him, drawing back reluctantly to gather his hair up with both hands. "Just tie it back, you won't have to worry about those little flyways."

Jordan sighed, but stayed still for a moment as Dianite finished tying his hair back with a scrap of string. "As I said, looks very nice." The god spun him around, surveying his work with an approving look.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away from the god, a faint smile on his face. Though younger than in past realms, the god was still the same smug bastard as always. With a sigh, he pulled his to-do list from his pocket. The list scrawled onto the scrap of paper only seemed to be growing longer and longer as the days passed. He scribbled out "polish sword" with a quick gesture, before studying the remaining tasks. Quite a bit to do, but what was new there?

"I'll take my leave now Captain but… do stick to our contract, won't you? Those stones aren't meant to remain in mortal hands for too long."

"Are you saying I can't manage keeping them safe?"

"I trust my champion is more than suited to that task. I just meant that they can… alter a mortal who has held them for a prolonged period." With a small wave of his fingers, he vanished, leaving Jordan alone with a whiff of brimstone and smoke.

Jordan was entirely caught off guard, as he stood frozen in place. His… champion? Did Dianite really mean him? But he was still Ianite's champion, wasn't he? Feeling more than a little alarmed, he grabbed his jacket, which he'd dropped onto his bed due to the heat of the furnaces, burying his face into the soft fabric. A few deep breaths were more than enough to convince him that it still held the familiar scent of lavender and End static. But alongside it, almost just a strong, was the smell of smoke and sulfur.

He dropped the jacket, his hands instinctively clawing for his pockets to pull out the two stones, fingers wrapping around them, their familiar weight soothing in his palms. So what if he was Dianite's champion as well? Even if… even if it wasn't temporary, he didn't exactly mind. A quiet groan escaped him, as his eyes squeezed shut. It just added a lot more to his plate. And as tiring as that sounded, he'd just have to handle it. He had the stones, after all. That'd make it easier. He could manage it, with the stones.

~

"Give me the stones, Tom." The words were taught, as taught as the string that held the arrow steadily aimed at Tom's throat. As taught as the tension that filled the air around them, something dangerous threatening to snap at any moment.

"Sparklez, I got them fair and square." Tom's voice shook, but he met Jordan's eyes with as level a stare as possible.

"I don't care, Tom. Give them to me." Jordan spoke quietly, hardly above a whisper. Yet in the silence of the room, both Karl and Tom could hear him perfectly.

"No!" Out of the corner of his eye, Jordan could see Karl wince at Tom's obvious outrage. He tightened his hold on his bow, slightly repositioning the angle of the shot.

"The stones. I don't have all day." Without moving his eyes from Tom's, he turned his head towards Karl. "You know better than him, Karl. Tell him."

Karl's hands were trembling - either with rage or fear, or perhaps a mix of both. Yet he raised them both defensively as he spoke. "Tom, just give him the stones. They're not worth gettin' shot."

"I'll just respawn! Sparkez, you're absolutely mad." 

Jordan narrowed his eyes, his head tilting to one side. "Am I, zombie boy? I'm the most qualified one to hold onto those stones. Do yourself a favor and listen to Karl. I don't want this to get messy." He wasn't lying. The idea of shooting Tom, especially with the arrow gifted from Dianite, it wasn't pleasant. Unfortunately it had been the first to come to hand when he had stormed into Tom's house after they had found the final stone. He hadn't really thought of what he was going to do. He just knew that he had to get the stones from Tom. He was so tired of Tom gloating that he had more stones than them, lauding it over them constantly. Tom really didn't deserve to have the stones. He didn't do nearly as much as Jordan to find them, to keep them safe from Gandus and the darkness. No, he was meant to have them. He was meant to keep them safe. "My arm's getting tired." Jordan sighed, "I really didn't want to do this." As he prepared to release his hold on the bowstring, he caught Tom's eyes flashing away from him.

Without a second thought, he abruptly angled the bow at the wall, the arrow sinking deep into the wood. Within the same breath, he drew his sword from his side, spinning instinctively to his left to meet Karl's blade. With a small twist of his wrist, he quickly disarmed Karl, stopping him in his tracks with a quick slice across his stomach. In two steps he was in front of Tom, his sword buried in the zombie's chest. "I'm not surprised Dianite chose me over you, really." He breathed the taunting words into Tom's ear, as he slipped the stones out of his pocket. Tugging the sword back out of Tom's chest, Jordan re-sheathed it as he carefully extracted his stones from his own pocket.

The four stones seemed to throb with an energy in his hands, a swirling pool of power sitting within his grasp. They seemed to call out to him, with their colliding energies, beckoning him to just accept their power. 

"Become a god," they whispered, "and you'll be unstoppable. Become a god, and you can do anything. Become a god, and embrace your potential."

His palms felt as though they were on fire, melting and dissolving into pure matter. He stared, entirely entranced, at the stones in his hands. So small, yet offering so much. The sweet, cloying scent of roses filled his senses, confusing his thoughts. His vision swam before him, shadowy figures darting across the edges of his sight, small fingers wrapping around his arms. All he could see were the stones. All he could imagine was being a god. All he could do was accept their offer.

And so he did.

[blu-joons]

BTS Reaction: They Find Out You Are Ticklish

Jin:

His lips danced with your own, his hands cupping the side of your face, slowly running down your body.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to press to your hips making you giggle. Jin pulled away, smirking as your head fell back from laughter.

"Is someone a bit ticklish?" He teased, pressing further into your hips.

"No! Jin! Please stop!" You squealed, trying to push him away but he was far too strong. "I can't breathe."

"Yes, you can," he replied, chucking as you squirmed trying to wriggle out of his hold. “You look so sexy when you laugh. It’s the cutest thing in the world.”

You shook your head, fending off his hands. His lips came down, peppering kisses all over your face. You let go of his wrists, cupping his cheeks so he looked directly into your eyes.

With a smug smile, you warned, "If you don't let go then we won't have sex tonight." Instantly, he let go, allowing you to catch your breath.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Do you want to try it? See if I’m being serious?”

“No!” He exclaimed, kissing you softly, bringing his hands back up to run through your hair.

Yoongi:

You spun around his body, trying to run away from him. Yoongi chuckled, his hand reaching out to grab around your wrist to pull you back into his hold, instead grazing against your side.

You jumped lightly, giggling at the light touch, swatting it away. Yoongi’s smile grew, the second time grabbing your wrist, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Was that a little laugh I heard then?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you blushed, hiding your face in his chest.

You could feel his arms move back down, tickling at your waist. “Please, don’t,” you begged, your infectious laugh beginning to ring out around the house. “Yoongi, I’ll do anything, just don’t tickle me, please!”

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me,” he smirked. He loved the sound of your laugh; it was one of his favourite things in the world. “Make me stop, jagi.”

“I can’t!” You squealed, not even trying to fend off his strong arms. “P-lease!”

“Looks like I’ll just have to carry on until this gets no fun anymore.”

“W-when’s that?” You chuckled.

“Never!”

Hoseok:

Your bodies lay side by side, cuddled into each other. The two of you had become lost in conversation awhile ago, talking about anything that came to mind.

“Are you ticklish?” You asked him, grazing your fingers against his side. He shook his head, but you could already see the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” You began to tickle him, hearing him scream at your touch, his loud laughter making you smile. “Are you?”

“No.” You confidently replied. He nodded, but leant forwards to grab onto your sides, his long fingers riding up underneath your shirt. "I'm not ticklish.”

Yet, as soon as his fingers attached your sides you began to laugh too, the both of you tickling each other, trying to push the other away. The two of you found yourselves panting for breath when you eventually caved, letting him go.

“You lied to me,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you’re so ticklish.”

“I know, I just didn’t want you to find out and tickle me, it was too much fun tickling you.”

“Sorry to ruin your fun jagi, let’s just agree both of us are ticklish and it should never be done again.”

“Agreed.”

Namjoon:

You stretched out on the sofa, resting your feet on Namjoon's lap. He smiled down at you, resting his hands on top of them.

Naturally, his hands began to move downwards, tickling lightly along the sole of your feet.

You giggled, capturing his attention. "Not ticklish, are we?" He smirked.

You shook your head but as he tickled your feet more you couldn't help but let out an embarrassingly loud cackle. “Please don’t make me laugh.”

“Too late.” Seconds later his hands were attacking your sides, his cackle ringing out seeing you squirm under his touch. You were defenceless as you tried to kick him away. “Look at you!”

“Joon, please this isn’t funny.”

“You’re right, it’s not funny, it’s hilarious.” You sighed, trying to compress your laughter, but it was too much. Your laugh only encouraged him as he loved to hear it, attacking more anytime you got embarrassed by a laugh.

Eventually he let go when he saw you clutching your stomach from all your laughter, pulling you into him. “From now on I’m going to tickle you every single day, that was so cute.”

“It wasn’t cute at all, it was mortifying.”

“Everything you do is cute jagi.”

Jimin:

His pouted lips made you smile, but you continued to look away as he laid beside you on the bed. He sighed, poking your cheek, “just kiss me already.”

“Nope.” You replied, popping the ‘p’. He frowned across at you, his bottom lip quivering, desperate for the taste of your lips on his.

“Let’s see if this makes you kiss me.”

You watched him in confusion, seeing his arms lift up into the air, quickly attacking your sides. He’d never tried to tickle you before, but as soon as you began to laugh, he knew just how ticklish you were.

“Jimin!” You whimpered, trying to force him off you. “Don’t do this, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He questioned, straddling you. His hands loosened momentarily, awaiting your response.

You nodded your head, using the time to catch your breath and recompose yourself. “Kiss me then,” he smirked, puckering up his lips.

You sighed, but did as he requested, pressing your lips to his. “Don’t ever tickle me again,” you scolded, pulling away.

“I can’t make no promises.”

Taehyung:

You stood over the oven preparing your tea, leaning back on the island of your kitchen.

Tae walked down the stairs, coming up beside you, "beep beep," he whispered, trying to slide behind you.

His hands gripped your waist, the feathers touch of his hands enough to make you chuckle.

Tae stood behind you, resting his hands on your hips. "Did that tickle?"

"A little," you sighed, turning back to face him.

He possessed a mischievous smile as you spoke, placing his hands back on your hips. “I think it was more than a little.”

"Please don't do what I think you're going to do." You tried to run away from but Taehyung was too strong for you, pulling you tightly into him every time you tried to escape.

Without warning his hands attacked your sides, laughing as you struggled against his grip.

“Stop!” You screamed, pushing him away from you. “I’ll let you eat some of the food if you just let go of me.”

“Food?” He asked, looking down to see what was bubbling away in the pan. “That’s a compromise I can live with, thanks jagi.”

“No, thank you for letting go of me.”

Jungkook:

A small shiver ran down your spine, cuddling further into Jungkook's body as you watched the movie play.

"Cold?" He asked, bringing his arm tighter around your body.

You nodded, feeling his hand run along your arm and then down your waist. What began as warming up your body, soon grew into light tickles against your skin. Jungkook was yet to discover your ticklish side, but as you snorted at his touch, you couldn’t hide your embarrassment.

“Are you ticklish?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirked down at the smile on your face, refusing to pass on the opportunity to hear your laughter. His hands continued to attack your sides until you could laugh no more.

“You look so cute when you laugh,” he complimented, pressing a kiss to the side of your face. “That laugh of yours is just so infectious.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you clarified, “don’t ever do that to me again, that was so mean.”

“Sorry jagi, just too good a chance to miss.” You pouted softly making him laugh, “don’t be like that, please forgive me for being such a terrible boyfriend.”

“You’re forgiven, this once.”

---

Masterlist

[a-world-in-grey]

Ghosts of Galahd Snippet

In which Libertus and Sola become the local fae, and Nyx nearly gets a heart attack.

@secret-engima

Under the cut, because this turned into 1400 works when I wasn’t looking.

.

The door closes behind the last of the local Nif occupational officers. Nyx hears the tell-tale sound of someone spitting on the floor. “Good riddance.” Someone mutters. Nyx shoots a scathing look in their direction. As much as he agrees, he appreciates them not spitting on his floors. He has to clean that.

“That’s not nice.” Libertus scolds the man. “What’d the floor do to you?”

The man opens his mouth to reply, gets a good look at Libertus before obviously rethinking his words on the spot. “Yeah, yeah, top me off, would you?”

Nyx smirks as Libertus ambles his way. By the time his friend reaches the bar, Nyx already has another drink for the fellow. Still sober enough to recognize picking a fight with the six-foot mountain of a man isn’t the best for his continued health, so Nyx wouldn’t cut the idiot off. Yet.

“Oi, Nyx.” One of Nyx and Lib’s regulars grabs his attention by sliding his tumbler across the wood bartop. Pantera Tibiae, all sinuous movements that still raise Nyx’s hackles despite knowing the man for near a decade now. “You hear about the Nif base over in old Bellum territory?”

He passes the tumblr back. “Blew up a month back, right? Nif bastards couldn’t find the perps.” Only reason the Nifs hadn’t massacred the locals for was that they couldn’t find any locals. All the nearby villagers had disappeared when morning came around.

As part of the Galahdian resistance, Nyx knows those villagers were evacuated in the middle of the night. Despite the fact no one ever travels at night. Galahd isn’t the mainland - there are no Havens to seek refuge at, and there are far more dangers than daemons in the depths of the jungles. Something the Nifs found out the hard way.

Pity to them.

Still, despite having hundreds of witnesses, there’s little information on what actually happened that night. They were warned, promised safe passage further inland, and sure enough, unbothered by both the local wildlife and daemons.

Nothing solid on who the whistleblowers are. Not even their Clans. Only two figures, one small, one large, clothed and hooded in black. Appearing at night and vanishing with the rising sun.

Leaving grateful refugees and another smoldering wreckage for their oppressors.

Pantera hums. “They hit another base two days ago. North side of the island.”

Nyx whips his head around. What? “What about the locals?” The Resistance hasn’t sent any word of refugees, and that’s usually their first clue to prepare for Nif backlash.

Surely they haven’t... Fuck, that’s Ostium territory.

“Scattered.” Pantera tells him, acutely aware of Libertus looming behind him. “Some showed in the morning. There’ve been stragglers ever since. Ostium all day yesterday, Altius and Praesidium last night. Furia found some more earlier today.”

Libertus shakes his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Why not come here first? Ulric territory borders the Ostiums. We’re closer than the Altius and Furia.”

Nyx thinks of the sudden Nif officers today and yesterday. “They’re hiding from the patrols.” He realizes. “Going the long way around the island, off the island to the Arra and Lazarus. The survivors say anything?”

Pantera nods, looking troubled. “They’re Galahdian alright. Elders at that, but apparently you wouldn’t know it by how they move.” Fingers sketch out figures moving with the lethal grace of a Coeurl. “Black armor - old armor - hints of purple and gold. Fluent in Old Galahdian according to the Altius.”

Nyx and Libertus exchange looks. "So why do you look like everything’s about to go to Ifrit’s Pyre?” Libertus asks.

“They’re not from any of the Clans.” Pantera says.

Hold on- “What?” Nyx demands. “How can they be Galahdian and not from a Clan? Did they cut their braids or something?” Libertus shudders. Nyx can sympathize. Cutting your braids, cutting yourself from your Clan... most don’t survive it.

If these two are as lethal as they seem though, Nyx could see them making it.

But Pantera shakes his head. “They’ve got braids. Just not ones anyone recognizes.” He nods towards Libertus. “They almost look like Ostium braids, being joined, but they’re on both sides like Nyx’s. Joined at the back.” Pantera traces along either side of his head from his temples, and he’s right. Nyx doesn’t know of any Clan that has those braids.

“New Clan?” He suggests, but even as he says it Nyx doesn’t believe it. New Clans are rare. Any forming in the past thirty or so years would have been all over Galahd in a matter of days.

“That no one’s seen before six months ago?” Pantera counters sarcastically.

Well he doesn’t have to say it like that. “What other option is there?” Nyx asks.

“They could be from an Old Clan.”

Nyx and Libertus give Pantera the dubious looks that comment deserves. “Very funny.” Lib snarks. “The last Clan to die out was two hundred years ago.”

Pantera raises a brow, sweeping a hand out with all the flair he possesses. “Exactly.”

Tibiae. Damn peacocks, all of them. “You’re saying these guys are ghosts?” Nyx scoffs, pushing himself upright and away from the bar. If Pantera’s going to be spouting nonsense, he’s better off doing his job. “I’m cutting you off. Clearly you’ve had too much to drink.”

Pantera sniffs in offense. “Disbelieve if you wish. But old armor, Old Galahdian, braids no one recognizes, and the fact they only appear at night?” He grins, sharp and vicious and Nyx is viscerally reminded of the carvings in the old Galahd ruins. “Mark my words. The Stormsender still looks over his Children.”

Nyx shakes his head even as he and Lib close the bar for the night. Sure. And Coeurls are fluffy and harmless.

Lib falls into step beside him. “What do you think?” He asks as they trudge back home.

“What, Pantera’s ghosts?” Nyx asks. “I think if Ramuh was going to send help, he’d have done it when Mors pulled the Wall.” Back when Libertus’ parents died in the resulting Niflheim invasion.

“I don’t know.” Libertus shrugs. “Must be nice having that kind-”

“Ostium? Ulric?”

Nyx and Libertus whirl around, and Nyx gapes.

There’s a group of families - four maybe, Nyx counts no more than twenty people - standing at the edge of the town, more than a little travel-stained. But those are Ostium braids in their hair. “You’re from up north?” He manages.

A woman nods, dark hair falling from the bun it’s in and carrying a sleeping toddler in her arms. “Please, can you help us? She said she would make sure we weren’t seen-”

“She?” Libertus asks. He waves his hand at the rest of the group, silently urging them towards the houses to get them out of sight. Nyx’s hands stray to his kukri, eyes darting about for any signs of the Niflheim officers.

“She didn’t give a name...”

“Later.” Nyx murmurs quietly, and Libertus nods. Nyx lets Libertus take the lead, carefully knocking on doors and ushering the frightened families into welcoming arms one house at a time. Nyx is taught as a wire the entire time. Just one Nif turning a corner at the wrong time and they are all dead...

But nothing. And that somehow makes Nyx even twitchier.

A flash of color out of the corner of his eye and Nyx stills, preparing to throw his kukri. He turns, oh so casually, opening his mouth to charm his way past which ever Nif might wonder why two Galahdians are still up and about at this hour of night-

Silver-red braids and black armor. Gold eyes in a pale face, eerily visible despite it being so dark Nyx shouldn’t be able to see her face, let alone eye color. A pair of khopesh strapped to her thighs.

The woman meets his gaze, before she nods, left arm crossed over her chest, fist over heart. Nyx’s breath stutters.

A mark of respect. One Chief to another.

What the hell.

“Nyx?” Libertus’ comes from right next to him, and Nyx nearly jumps out of his skin. Libertus eyes him worriedly. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just-” He turns back to see naught but shadows. “She’s gone.” No flicker of movement, not so much as a sound.

Libertus follows his gaze. “She- you saw her?”

Nyx sheathes his kukri, letting out a gust of breath. “Yeah. Lib?”

“What?”

“I’m starting to wonder if Pantera might be right.”

A snicker. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“Don’t you dare.”

[villavineyards]

baby i’m yours

:hhhhh here’s the convo i imagine mc and bobby having after Disaster Recoupling (kind of angsty but not really because i feel weird writing something angry and also,, theres some tears)(not from me hahah i’m not emotionally invested or anything like that ahaha)(also once again i got Carried Away)

- you blinked back tears as you sat next to lucas, shivering slightly from nerves. you didn’t dare look up at bobby, knowing that doing so would cause the dam you were trying so hard to uphold to break.

the rest of the recoupling was a blur, but you couldn’t find the heart to care about the other islanders as you thought about bobby and what this new coupling meant for the two of you.

as soon as everyone stood to leave, you sunk back further in your seat, not wanting to have to face reality and sleep next to lucas. not that he isn’t attractive or anything, but he’s got nothing compared to bobby.

bobby quietly sat next to you, clearing his throat as you turned to face him.

the tears fell, your lips quivering slightly as he engulfed you in a hug. you heard him let out a shaky breath, but he grabbed your hands after and looked you in the eye.

“this won’t be forever. i can just choose you at the next recoupling,” he said softly, giving you a small smile as you nodded. “i know. but.. i want to be with you now, i wanted us to be able to say we’d been together since the beginning.” you sniffled, and he chuckled before giving you a half-smile.

“it’s okay. we’ll be together in the end, yeah?” he said confidently, making more tears fall from your eyes at the thought. you nodded, letting out a shaky breath as he kissed the top of your head. “we’re not broken up. you’re still the girl for me here.” he reassured, and once again you nodded, unsure how to respond.

“and you for me,” you breathed, looking at bobby as he smiled facing his lap. “it’s funny, actually. i wasn’t too sure i’d meet anyone here, anyone i liked really, but then i saw you at the end of that line on that first day... and here i am. completely smitten with you.” you finished, finally meetings bobby’s gaze. he turned crimson, still not used to how much you seem to like him.

“you’re cute when you blush like that,” you mused, making him squirm as he mumbled something. you smiled at each other, eyes glistening as you sat under the moonlight.

“think you’ll crack on with marisol?” you asked, laughing as he rolled his eyes. “kidding. she’s well fit, though,” you added, making bobby hum. “never noticed,” he murmured, stroking your cheek with his thumb. you leaned into his touch, sighing again as you could feel more tears begin to form.

“let me know if lucas tries something. you’re still mine, after all.” bobby mumbled, making you chuckle a little at his small show of possessiveness. “nah, i made it clear i wasn’t happy with his choice. he’d be proper dense to try something.” you said, running your finger along bobby’s hand.

“i’m gonna miss you,” he said, finally realizing you guys would have to be separated until the next recoupling. “who’s going to be my big spoon now?” he said, looking at you with comically-wide eyes.

you were going to answer when a flash of light caught your eye, and you looked to the roof terrance to see the lucas heading inside. bobby followed your gaze, and you both looked at each other.

“guess that’s our time,” he said somberly, glassy eyes looking back at you. “don’t forget about me, okay?” he asked quietly, and it was your turn to wipe away some of his tears.

you kissed him, a hesitant kiss, your lips barely brushing a few times, breath fanning across each other's faces as you both waited for the other to make a move.

and so bobby does, cupping your cheek as he kisses you deeper, hoping with everything in him that he's not making a mistake as he descends further in love with the girl before him. you pulled away first, leaving quick pecks on bobby’s lips before going back in again, not sure when you’d stop.

when you pull apart after a good twenty seconds, all you and bobby can do is close your eyes and keep your mouths agape slightly as you try to process what just happened. bobby leaned his forehead onto yours before breaking out into a grin, smiling happily as he looked at you.

your next kiss was so desperate that your whole body curved into bobby’s, and all he could do was smile into the kiss as he pressed on, lucas long forgotten. the only thing on both of your minds was a hope, a silent plea that this moment will last forever.

which, we all know: it doesn’t.

A/N: EEP i realized monday was about to be over hdjsjsjsk so here it is (-’: -emma 

[traincat]

who are kaine and ben? i saw ben get referenced in a post about ripeter from spider verse and i know they're clones?? but idk anything about them.

Ben Reilly and Kaine Parker are both clones of Peter Parker. It’s a very long story, but to cut to the heart of it: when Peter and Gwen were in college, they had a professor named Miles Warren, also known as the Jackal. Warren became obsessed with Gwen, and after her death also discovered Spider-Man was Peter Parker. Using samples collected in their science class, he cloned multiple copies of both Gwen and Peter – two of those clones being Kaine and Ben. (Later it’s revealed Norman Osborn was directly involved in Warren’s cloning of Peter, but originally the story is presented as Warren cloning Peter as revenge for his part in Gwen’s death.) They’re the big two clones you need to know about when tackling Spider-Man comics: the perfect clone and the original clone.

(Web of Spider-Man #118)

Ben Reilly (who uses a combination of Uncle Ben’s first name and Aunt May’s maiden name) is a “perfect” copy of Peter Parker, possessing all of Peter’s powers and memories up until his cloning (the college years) both. Realizing he was the clone, Ben left New York and for five years lived a nomadic life. Spider-Man: The Lost Years is a miniseries that covers this and I highly recommend it.

Ben returns to New York when May falls ill and apparently dies (it’s a long story but considering this was the 90s and May is currently alive in Spider-Man, you can guess that she did not in fact actually die). At first operating as the Scarlet Spider, Ben later took up the Spider-Man mantle when test results were faked so it appeared that he was, in fact, the original Peter Parker and Peter the clone. Peter and Mary Jane, who was at the time pregnant, moved to Portland and Ben bleached his hair blond and began working as a barista at a local coffee shop while operating as Spider-Man. 

Ben later died in front of Peter, murdered by Norman Osborn the same night Norman had Mary Jane poisoned to kill her unborn baby. Upon his death, it was revealed that Ben had been the clone all along. He later returned as the new Jackal during the recent Clone Conspiracy storyline, and had a recent comics run in Ben Reilly: Scarlet Spider. 

Personality-wise, before his return as the Jackal/his most recent run, Ben is a lot like Peter. Despite a rocky start, Peter and Ben got along really well and referred to each other as brothers. Before Ben’s death they were discussing the possibility of them both acting as Spider-Man in conjunction.

(Spectacular Spider-Man #240)

When it comes to Ben, there are two costumes you should know: the Scarlet Spider costume and Ben’s variation of the Spider-Man costume. The Scarlet Spider costume is a red bodysuit with a blue sleeveless hoodie featuring the spider symbol layered over it:

(ASM #400)

Ben’s Spider-Man costume is very similar to Peter’s, but the spider is larger, extending across his chest and over his shoulders, and his gloves and boots are a different design:

(Spectacular Spider-Man #234) Ben very notably wears his webshooters on the outside of his costume in both his Scarlet Spider and Spider-Man identities, which is an easy way to quickly identify whether you’re looking at Peter Parker or Ben Reilly if you’re unsure.

RIPeter’s blond hair in Into the Spider-Verse was most likely a reference to Ben Reilly – it’s a pretty funny meta joke to introduce a Spider-Man whose big line is “there’s only one Spider-Man” when he’s visually based on Peter’s clone.

(Spider-Man Redemption #4)

Kaine Parker – known at first simply as “Kaine” – is the first living clone of Peter Parker Miles Warren created. Seemingly a success at first, Kaine suffered from clone degeneration, a condition that scarred him physically and mentally. When Warren became aware of this, he attempted to kill Kaine, causing Kaine to flee and hide.

(Peter Parker #61)

Kaine became obsessed with Peter, thinking that he was the successful clone when in reality that was Ben Reilly. Attempting to protect the life Kaine felt Peter as the clone should have, he hounded Ben Reilly relentlessly, attempting to keep him from New York and away from Peter and trying to destroy Ben’s own happiness. It gets kind of homoerotic, I’m not gonna lie.

(Peter Parker #61)

(Spider-Man Redemption #1 – highly recommended Kaine reading.)

“Our minds and hearts couldn’t help but vibrate around each other: I’d breathe in, he’d exhale. I’d grow feverish… he’d burn.” This is a lot even before Ben’s love interest, Janine, uses the exact same phrasing to describe her own relationship with Ben. (Based on the heavy parallels between Janine, who killed her father after years of sexual abuse, and Kaine, as well as Kaine’s later focus on and empathy toward young victims of sex trafficking and the Jackal’s own treatment of Kaine, I think there’s a very strong implication in the text that the Jackal sexually abused at least Kaine, if not both Kaine and Ben, but that’s a different post.)

During Ben’s five year exile, Kaine killed a woman named Louise Kennedy, who had briefly been his lover, in a complicated series of events spiraling out from his finding out she was a corrupt cop. Because the clones have the same fingerprints as Peter and because Peter had previously been arrested and fingerprinted, Peter was later arrested for the murder, though he was later exonerated. Kaine also killed Doctor Octopus, although Otto, of course, got better. 

Fast forward to more modern comics. Kaine sacrificed himself in Peter’s stead during the Grim Hunt storyline, when Kraven the Hunter’s family attempted to use Spider-Man to resurrect Kraven. Kaine later emerged from the grave further mutated, sporting multiple eyes and more spider-like features. The Jackal abducted him and further mutated him into a giant monster called Tarantula. During the Spider-Island event, he was knocked into a vat of spider-cure created by Anti-Venom and reemerged cured of both Tarantula and the clone degeneration.

(ASM #671)

Headlining in his own solo title, Scarlet Spider v2, Kaine took off with Peter’s stealth suit and, while he planned to cross the border into Mexico, ended up waylaid in Houston when he discovered a mysterious young girl named Aracely who had been left to die. Recognizing himself in her, Kaine and Aracely ended up staying in Houston, where Kaine operated as the Scarlet Spider, focusing his efforts when left to his own devices largely on human trafficking.

(Scarlet Spider v2 #12)

Kaine and Aracely later appeared as members of the new New Warriors team, before he died during the Spider-Verse event. He also got better. 

Before being cured of the clone degeneration, Kaine sported very long curly hair and was marked by the scars of his clone degeneration. He’s also taller than either Peter or Ben, likely due to mistakes in the cloning process. He possesses a power called “the mark of Kaine” which leaves burning hand prints on his victims. Before he was cured, he suffered from precognition in the form of violent flashes of the future, but after being cured, unlike either Peter or Ben, Kaine lacks a spider-sense:

(Scarlet Spider v2 #1)

However, unlike either Peter or Ben, he can talk to and control spiders:

(New Warriors (2014) #3)

Kaine is short-tempered and foul-mouthed, but despite his every intention otherwise, like Peter, he is ultimately beholden to his responsibilities. Because of his past, he’s extremely self-loathing, and often measures himself up against both Peter and Ben in terms of what a hero is supposed to be like. However, he’s deeply loyal to his found family, particularly Aracely, who shares something of a psychic bond with him.

(Scarlet Spider v2 #21) Kaine is also possessed by an otherworldly spider entity known as the Other, which can manifest as a gigantic human spider. 

And that’s what you need to know about the two main 616 Peter Parker clones!

[mars-barssss]

are you still doing the 20 word prompts thing? if so, "run" and whatever you think would be the most angsty? ((Also, can you tag me in Sander Side fics???))

//Yes, actually! And I'll add you to the taglist. Made it super angsty for ya.

Corruption

TW: Deceit, Possession, Remus, Mention of Injury, Blood

Pairing: Lamp

Type: Good-Old Angst

___

"Run-!"

The brash word burst through the sounds behind them, of the entire imagination falling into pieces. Rushed, panicked footsteps were barely heard above the chaos, as Logan attempted to shout for the others again.

"Patton! Virgil-!" Logan's voice grew hoarse, trembling as he tried to find the other two sides. Suddenly, he stumbled towards the right, as another section of the ground began to split and rise into the air, monsters reaching up beneath the floating island. He staggered, regaining his balance.

With his movement, he spotted Roman floating above where he was running from. He was just looking up there, large, golden tears falling down his face. Beside him, was Deceit, with an arm on Roman's shoulder.

He was smiling.

Everything was just normal earlier that day, before Virgil came running into the commons, yelling about some plan that the dark sides were coming up with. Yelling about how they needed to find Roman. But before they could even search, they could feel themselves being dragged, or "called", into the imagination. It was only to be greeted by the two dark sides and Roman himself. Roman had this unreadable expression, and as soon as Deceit's monologue for the creative side ended, his face broke. All they heard was a small, "I'm sorry," before an explosion enveloped that section of the imagination.

Deceit had overwhelmed the creative side and with both in his control, he was able to meld the imagination.

As Thomas's imagination began to tear itself into a new form right in front of Logan, Remus jumped up from the hole in the ground, mace in hand, and heading right towards Logan.

Even Logan knew there was no invincibility to the creative sides in their own realm.

"Hey Nerdy Wolverine~!" Practically screaming, Remus swung his mace mere inches from Logan's face. And then another swing. And then another.

Logan was shocked at how he was managing to dodge the other side, before he realized how much his hands were shaking. Looking up, he spotted something new blending into the imagination, where purples and blacks came from seemingly a thunderstorm. As if Virgil's realm was bleeding into the imagination, and by the look of Deceit, that wasn't supposed to be happening.

He spotted Virgil, laying on the floor after falling off another section of land, with a monster trying to drag him in. But even under attack, he managed to give Logan enough anxiety to dodge.

But with his realization came a sudden thud of a mace, smacking his head.

Remus loomed over him, as his terrifying smile bled into his mind. The mace rose again, before moving to strike the logical side, when-

A sudden body slammed into Remus. Logan could only barely recognize the cat cardigan flying in the sudden storm of winds that struck everyone when he fell.

Logan's eyes fell on Patton, who had just tackled the other side to the ground, and was currently fighting him over his mace. His eyes jumped to the left, where he involuntarily gasped at the sight, where Virgil was almost beneath the ground, the hand that grabbed him was winning.

A quick double-take let Logan decide to help Virgil.

He scrambled to the anxious side, fighting against the monster's grip. It took a few tense moments of Virgil hanging over the cliff, but Logan soon won, helping Virgil onto the ledge.

"Hah... Hah... L-Log-gan?"

Logan finally took in how Virgil looked. His eyeshadow was much larger, nearly coating his face in the black haze. His eyes were wide, tears falling down his cheeks. "Virgil, come on, we have to-"

A sudden earthquake sent the imagination roaring, as land moved faster, nearly reclaiming Virgil. Logan pulled him further away, holding him closer this time. "Lo, what about Roman! We can't-"

"AAAAAAAaaaaa-!"

A sudden scream followed Virgil's words, sending both sides to look at Patton, who had been impaled through the chest by Remus's charcoal-colored sword, which was now coated in crimson. Remus turned towards them, the demented smile never leaving his face. He didn't even do anything, just smile before Deceit must have made a gesture for him to come.

"NO!" Virgil leapt up from where he laid on the ground, closing his distance as fast as he could, in only three bounds.

-

Patton barely registered anything after the moment that he fell to the ground. One moment he was fighting Remus, and another he was on the ground alone, and then another he was surrounded by his friends.

His friends. His mind was already becoming hazy, barely recognizing Thomas must be crying in the real world.

He knew he couldn't die, not really, but something in the back of his head was wanting him to rest like he was.

"-e's down, Virgil help-"

Somewhere in himself, he remembered someone, maybe Logan? Someone told him along the lines that sides got replaced if they failed their job, or... Something along the lines of remaining in the subconscious too long. If he died, something made him feel like he would be just replaced as if nothing happened.

Which wasn't... Ideal.

A sudden tug on his arm jolted him, causing more liquid to slip out of his mouth. He saw a concerned face hover above him, and another to his left. Patton began to laugh. It was funny, wasn't it?

Wasn't everything just wonderful? He was surrounded by friends.

"-gan, we're losing him, please-!"

Friends?

Something about them bothered him. He couldn't quite remember their names. In fact, they were blurry.

Why were his friends blurry?

The one in purple raised him upwards for a bit, leaning into Patton.

Patton? Was that his name?

His mind was so foggy, so much pain. Something pressed down onto his chest, but it just made him flinch slightly.

"Patt! Patton please! Stay awak-"

Through all of the fog, he felt surprisingly safe here, safe, and warm, and so... So tired.

"I... I don't know what to do! I-"

He could still feel love... Was that what he did? Love. Maybe it was emotions. Morality?

Love came from these two, that he couldn't quite remember the names of in a place he couldn't quite remember. He also couldn't quite remember why he was here.

Morality thought of falling gently to sleep, as his body told him to. Somewhere in him, he wanted to say something. Something important.

Lying was bad.

"I-I... love... y-you."

It came out in the hoarse gasps he barely felt. He also barely felt two hands touch his cheek, wet stains soaking into his skin, before another earthquake came to life and jostled him. His body screamed in pain as his mind fell to sleep.

___

I hope that was good enough! And by the way, the word request thing is still open! Please request something since I really like doing these!

Have a great day!

[emmhannaford-blog]

So we took the New Jersey Transit to New York City

The modern coach bus goes to the 42nd Street Port Authority. The Port Authority is one of the many hubs of ground transportation in NYC. Most of your major bus companies are located there and you can make connections with almost every subway line via a walking tunnel to Times Square. The rail hubs are Grand Central Station, connected by subway shuttle from Times Square, and Penn Station, a two-stop jaunt on the subway. The subway system in Manhattan is the quickest and most efficient form of transportation on the island, with stops within four to six blocks of each other. The system used to be confusing with many independent lines designated by different letters: IRT, BMT, etc. Today the various routes are designated by colors and either numbers or letters. A map shows all of the routes and their connecting points. The subways system today is very easy to follow. It is also safe, contrary to some people's perceptions. Here are a few little known facts about the system. The tunnels go at least eight stories below the ground. There are miles of mazes even under the tubes themselves, where the homeless have made their homes. On one of the lines from Manhattan to Queens, the tracks literally ride on water under the East River. Even engineers do not know how to correct the problem. The money collected at the ticket booths is sent by a special train which travels the system. The trains are very long, at least ten cars in length. Most of the cars have benches along the sides, which leaves most of the car for standing room. There are three exits on each side of the car, which allows quick entrance and egress. The riders are called strap hangers, because they hold on to straps hanging from the ceiling while riding. The newer cars post the next stop on signs in the car. Some even have a map of the route and the present location of the car lit up on the map.

The city of New York consists of five Boroughs: Kings (Manhattan), Queens, Bronx, Brooklyn, and Richmond (Staten Island). All of the boroughs are connected by subway or train or bus, except for Staten Island which is serviced by the famed ferry. More about the different areas when we visit them.

Went for desert at Cafe Lalo, where part of the movie "You've Got Mail" was filmed. Then we walked up Broadway to Fairfield Market, a few blocks South of World famous Zabars, a grocery and kitchen appliance store (but so much more: an experience). I was surprised by the variety of fresh produce and meats, fish, and poultry and relatively low prices. The aisles are very narrow in the store, due to the fact that space is at a premium in Manhattan. Buy an unlimited Metro Pass, $21.00 for the week, and hop on a Downtown bound bus on Broadway. Downtown means towards the Battery, the Southernmost point of Manhattan.

Uptown is Northbound and Cross-town is either to the East River(East Side) or the Hudson River(West Side). What a wonderful and safe way to see the city. We passed by Columbus Circle, the edge of Central Park, Julliard, Lincoln Center, the Theater District, and of course glitzy vibrant Times Square. The bus then turned East on 42nd Street and passed by the Public Library, Grand Central Station, and ended at The United Nations Building.

As long as fate brought us there, we toured the famed United Nations building. Mati from Senegal in Western Africa, was our tour guide and was very knowledgeable about the workings of the UN. It is not the paper tiger that some people claim it is. It is a real forum for all of the nations of the world to discuss mutual concerns: military conflicts, land mines, disease, hunger, trade, etc. Perhaps the real tigers are the ones who want to control the other nations or make huge profits by fostering these problems. Some of the Chambers were in use, namely the Security Council, and the Council for Economic and Social Justice. They were in session.

The Lexington Avenue bus goes further Downtown. Along the way we passed Chinatown, the Bowery, Little Italy, skirted Greenwich Village, and ended at city hall. There are so many different types of restaurants in NY that you could eat at a different one every single night and not repeat yourself for your entire lifetime.

Today we rode the subways. First we went Uptown to the Northern tip of Manhattan to Tryon Park and the fort. This is the highest point on Manhattan, overlooking both the Hudson and the East Rivers. At the northern most point of the park is The Cloisters Museum. This unique museum consists of five medieval cloisters rescued from buildings being demolished in Europe, along with chapels and numerous artifacts. Some of the statuary was being used as scarecrows by farmers, while others were found in junk piles. One outstanding room is the Unicorn Tapestries, which tell of the hunt, death, and resurrection of the unicorn-a symbol of Jesus Christ. The tapestries contain over one hundred different species of medieval plants woven into the stories. They are just breathtaking not only from their beauty but also from the textures of the weave.

We went back to Times Square and then hopped on the route #7 subway to Queens and Flushing Meadows, the site of the 1963 Worlds Fair with its massive sculpture of the world. On either side of the train station are Shea Stadium, home of the NY Mets baseball team and Arthur Ashe Stadium, site of the US Open Tennis Tournament. Back on the train to Times Square and on to W route to Coney Island at the tip of Brooklyn. We ate a Nathan's World Famous Hot Dog. It cannot compare to a Chicago Vienna Hot Dog. The amusement park was closed, open only on weekends while school is in session. The Cyclone, their famous roller coaster, had just closed up. Thank our growling stomachs for this lack of timing. It is open daily from 12:00 to 4:00. The coaster does not look like much. But looks are deceiving. This baby shakes, rattles, and rolls. I wanted to see if it still gave me the same thrills as the last time I rode it in 1963. But that was to be for a later day, which never came.

This day was reserved to visit the grand dame of New York City, the Statue of Liberty. Taking the train to Battery Park at the lower tip of Manhattan, we purchased our tickets at the Castle Clinton, once a fortress guardian for the harbor, then a concert venue (the American debut of Jenny Lind), then an immigration port of entry, and now the ticket office for our lady. Circular in design, it is only fitting that one must pass through a fortress to gain access to greet the great lady. On the fifteen minute boat trip to Governors Island it is easy to imagine the awe and deep feelings of overwhelming joy of the millions of immigrants who first envisioned her while sailing through the Verrazano Narrows into New York Harbor. The statue, donated by France over one hundred years ago, stands on another fort, one of five which guarded the harbor. The pedestal rises eleven stories and the lady herself stands one hundred fifty-one feet. Once again security is very tight and visitors are not allowed either in the museum, on the pedestal, or into the crown. But just being in her presence was as said in Hebrew, "Dayenu" (It would have been enough).

Embarking on the boat again we went to Ellis Island, built in 1892 to process the great flood of immigrants. Both of our ancestors arrived before that date, so they might have come through Castle Clinton, AKA, Gardens or a different port of entry. Charlie Walker was our Ranger tour guide. Once a drill instructor, he has a voice to match. He also missed his calling to the stage, because the tour he gave was more of a living presentation with a cast of characters than a boring recitation of facts and figures. polyamorous dating site He definitely loves his job. The experience of Ellis Island was reserved for passengers in steerage class. Remembering the movie "Titanic", steerage was the lowest of the low. The passengers in first and second class were processed on board ship. After they disembarked, the ship proceeded to Ellis Island. There the steerage class ran the gauntlet of the eyes of the inspectors. I was reminded of the pictures of the holocaust where the prisoners were "selected". If you walked funny, protested, or looked frail, your clothing was chalk-marked for further inspection and processing. Many of these people were fleeing tyrannical regimes and were terrified of uniformed men. Here in America they were being ordered about by more men. Families were separated, while the processing took place- men on one side and women and children on the other side of the room. The good news is that the process generally took less than five hours and only 2% of the twelve million immigrants were deported back to their home lands. The ones who remained took the trains Westbound out of New Jersey or stayed in NYC, digging the subways or other back breaking jobs.

Arriving back at Battery Park we walked to Broadway. At the entrance was the sculpture of the Peace Globe which stood in the World Trade Center Plaza. Miraculously it withstood the tragedy and is now at the foot of Broadway being kept vigil by an eternal flame. Although damaged, the globe still stands for peace in this world.

Walked through the financial district, which looks like a war zone, barricades and armed police patrolling the area. Our goal was Federal Hall at the corners of Nassau, Broad and Wall streets. Federal Hall was the first capital of the United States. Here Washington was sworn in as president and the Congress met. The building has long been torn down. In its place is a Neo-Classical designed building, Parthenon-like exterior and Pantheon-like interior. Used as a customs house and then as a depository for US gold reserves during the Civil War, it is now a museum remembering our first capital. One of their prized possessions is the Bible which Washington used for his inauguration (the one that President Bartlett wanted to use on "The West Wing").

Walking down famed Wall Street, where never have so many been raped by so few (written over five years ago), we went into Trinity Church where many come to pray after losing their life savings down the street. Built in 1696, the church has withstood many Wall Street crashes. Notable people buried there include Alexander Hamilton and Robert Fulton.

Many people talked to us about visiting St. John the Divine Cathedral. Happily, we took their advice. Started in 1892, this Gothic house of worship is over two football fields in length. The cathedral is still unfinished, but is still spectacular. Each set of stained glass windows has a different theme: poetry, medicine, law, etc. Standing in the immense interior is a humbling experience not to be missed. Around the high altar are side chapels, one which is reserved for local artists to show their work. At this time the children from the Cathedral's school have their artwork on display.

From St John's is a short bus ride to Grant's tomb, where he and his wife lay at rest. The interior is similar to Napoleon's tomb in Paris. Mrs.Grant chose New York, because the people were kind to them after they had become penniless. The tomb sits high on the palisades overlooking Riverside Park and the Hudson River.

Adjacent to the tomb is Sukaru Park, so named because of the numerous cherry trees in the park, which were donated by the Japanese government. In the park is a statue of General Daniel Butterworth, the composer of Taps (remember Berkeley Plantation in Virginia). He is looking over to Grant's tomb, keeping his eyes on that hallowed ground.

Across the street is Riverside Church, a Presbyterian Church noted for its grand carillon of over seventy bells. The nave of the church is Gothic in style, but not quite as large St. John's. The Church is part of Union Theological Seminary, which is connected with Columbia University also present in the neighborhood.

Hopped on the train again to Theodore Roosevelt's Birthplace. This is a large brownstone at 28 East 20th Street. The original house was torn down and a reconstructed one was erected according the similar design plans of others in the neighborhood. His sisters, still alive gave instructions about floor plans and the arrangement of furniture in the house, as they had remembered. Roosevelt, born in to a very wealthy family, suffered from asthma. After losing his first wife and mother within the same week, he moved out to North Dakota to find himself. There he rediscovered his love for nature and the independence of the common working man. To prove his virility, he longed for a war, which he got when the Battleship Maine blew up in Havana Harbor, Cuba. The Spanish were blamed for the sinking. He formed the Rough Riders in San Antonio, Texas, and the rest is history. Of his presidency he claimed that the building of the Panama Canal was his greatest achievement. Even though he was a war monger and empire builder, he is the first American to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his help in ending the Russian Japanese War.

A short distance South is Greenwich Village, not quite the Bohemian atmosphere it was in the 60s. It is still a thriving area of restaurants, small theaters, interesting shops, and people watching. Washington Square, the quasi-official entrance to the area, still has its checker and chess tables set up with games constantly going on.

[thelamppoststation]

Future’s Past by TheLampPost

In 2008, a year after James managed to get off that godforsaken rock, he receives a visit from a young woman with blue eyes and blonde hair. She hands him a locket and a letter, then demands answers to questions that he didn’t even know existed. Post season 6 (Suliet) - This story is also partly set during the DHARMA days.

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

Chapter 2: The Plan             

       DHARMA Initiative: Sonar Fence, July 1975      

She started across the field at a brisk pace, but by the time she got to the path beyond the bushes she'd broken into a run. A sudden wave of nausea twisted her insides into knots, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was due to her newly discovered condition or genuine nerves. This could not be happening. Not to her. Not after all she'd done to prevent exactly this type of scenario from coming to pass. Hell if she'd ever deliver a baby on this island again. Hell if it ever be her own.

When the pylons sprung into view, she stopped. The giant misshapen percussion bells on concrete sticks of terror stood tall and proud across the field in all of their youthful glory, not quite made for musical bliss, but blissfully fulfilling a purpose that kept people as arrested as would a theatre filled audience. Different purpose, same effect.

She crouched down, and flipped the lid on the data pad. Funny how the code was always the same, no matter what decade: 1623.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She whirled around. What the–?

"Miles!"

Where in the hell had he come from? He looked straight at her, narrowed eyes darkening the core of his black pupils, he looked almost threatening, and a familiar tightness settled in her chest, spread all the way down to her spine and back up her arms. She hadn't been on the receiving end of this much blatant mistrust in a long time.

"You scared me," she said, and smiled.

"Where are you going, Juliet?" he wasted no time.

She shrugged, hoping for it to come across as casual.

"I thought I saw something on the security monitors, figured I'd check it out. You know how Horace gets if we sound the alarm prematurely."

"Does LaFleur know you're out here?"

"Of course James knows."

Miles narrowed his eyes even further, causing for his already impossibly narrow slits to turn into even sharper ones; it almost reminded her of dark light peeping through the cracks of a badly insulated shed. He wasn't buying it. Damn him for tempting her into playing so much late night Poker. Miles was good at deception, but he was even better at recognising it. He'd been able to figure out all of her tells straight off the bat, and now she didn't have many, if any, left.

"Why are you lying to me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw you," he took a step closer, and she had to suppress the urge to take a step back. "You were nowhere near the observation deck. I only followed you out here because I saw you flail out of the infirmary like a possessed madwoman. What's going on?"

She bit her lip.

"Look Miles, even if I told you; you wouldn't understand."

"Well," Miles crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Let's see what LaFleur'll have to say about that then."

He reached for his walkie, but before he could so much as pull the device from his pocket she'd already launched herself at him, pinning him to the ground with two hands above his head.

"What the actual fuck, Juliet!" he trashed against her, but she had a good grip on him, her weight pressing down hard on his lower abdomen. Maybe, if he had been a little heavier, or more muscular like James, he would have been able to break free, but Miles was about as scrawny as a malnourished field mouse.

"Get off me!"

"You don't want to do this, Miles!"

She gave him a hard look.

"They'll have seen you on the monitors by now anyway," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if LaFleur is already on his way!"

She tightened her grip on his wrists.

"It would take them at least five more minutes to get here," she said. "Look, Miles, you're my friend and I really, really do not want to hurt you, but if you don't let this go, you'll leave me no choice."

He stopped, and stared, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

"You're serious?!"

She gave a curt nod.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me! Fine!" he slackened. "Go, then! You fucking Hilary Swank wannabe. See if I care."

She pulled his walkie from his pocket, and slipped it into her own jumpsuit before rolling off of him. He let out a loud, ever so exaggerated, cry.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded, rubbing his wrists where red marks had already formed around them. She bit her lip.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Oh really? You're sorry?!" he spat. "LaFleur'll have a field day when you get back!"

"Please, don't tell him."

"You expect me to lie after you nearly broke my neck just now?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Hardly."

He let out a derisive snort.

"Yeah? Well, tell that to my impending hernia!"

Leave it up to Miles to add a side dish of drama to an already tense situation.

"If I'd wanted to break your neck, I would have."

"Well, THAT," he pointed at her. "That's a real comfort, thanks Juliet! I'll be sure to pass that along to the DHARMA folks at the next town meeting."

For all of his sarcasm she did feel guilty. Over the past year they'd become allies, friends even. Jin, Miles and James, the most unlikely group of people to have ever met and band together. Yet, over time, they'd all turned into more than just collateral casualties of time travel. If there was anyone she could trust it should be Miles, but there was just too much at stake. If she told him about her plans, then he'd tell James, and that would lead to more questions, and then accusations. She might even have time to stop and think, rethink. She couldn't risk that.

But then, maybe; she could throw him some breadcrumbs, some food for thought to chew on. It would give her a reasonable head start.

"Come," she said, holding out her hand. He took it, albeit reluctantly; she pulled him to his feet.

"I'm going out there to find Richard."

"Eyeliner Tarzan?"

She shook her head, that was almost amusing.

"You've been spending too much time with James."

"Says you."

"Excuse me?"

"You think that Jin and I would think that all of those bumps in the night we hear is just your furniture coming to life and humping itself? Which by the way–" He froze, catching her impending look of doom.

"One more word, just one more", her eyes threatened.

He cleared his throat, inching a calculated step backward.

"Why do you need to talk to Richard?" he changed the subject.

"Miles," the threat not completely gone from her eyes. "Just make sure that James doesn't follow me."

"Can't stop that guy from doing anything he doesn't want to do. Or, well… technically, wants to do."

He sniggered, amused by his own disaster of a joke, and she took that opportunity to slip between the pillars; as expected the pylons remained compliantly oblivious to her frame. Thank God for small mercies.

"Then stall him!" she threw over her shoulder.

"Whatever!" he yelled after her.

No matter his tone, she trusted Miles to be discreet. None of them should want to be stupid enough to ever risk their cover being blown, and besides where else could they go? Everything depended upon them keeping up appearances. Miles would reactivate the fence the moment she'd gone, and even though he denied it now, he would lie for her; if only for a couple of hours.

She sprinted down the overgrown path, twigs and leaves already sticking to her jumpsuit.

She'd better find Richard soon.

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       The Jungle, July 1975      

When James had first asked her about eyeliner Benjamin Button, she hadn't quite known how to respond. Before the 815 crash, Ben had only ever referred to Richard as his advisor, or the island's intermediator.

To her, Richard had simply been the mysterious man who'd first recruited her, and then delivered her to Ben as would a postman a package. Afterwards she only ever saw him sporadically. He preferred to live with another group at the Temple, a remote place in the jungle that even the D.I. had had a hard time locating in their day. But whenever he wasn't at the Temple he would intermittently show up at the barracks carrying perfectly symmetrically folded pieces of parchment paper; "Orders from Jacob", Ben would say.

The first time she heard that name, she'd asked:

"Jacob? Who's Jacob?" Ben had been evasive at first, but clear in his reply "Jacob protects the island; he protects us."

What Jacob was protecting them from, he wouldn't say. Instead, Ben would often talk about vague miracles and electromagnetic energy. She soon found out that they all looked to Jacob as worshippers would to a deity. She looked to Ben a lot back then, as he seemed to hold most of the answers in that regard, but after a while he started to misinterpret her intentions, invading her privacy in a manner that reminded her of how Edmund used to corner her out of nowhere.

Alarm bells screeched ear damagingly loud; she distanced herself from Ben, and turned to the others instead. She asked Amelia about the DHARMA stations, Harper about the Initiative, Ethan about the Sonar Fence and the submarine, but it wasn't until she asked Goodwin about the strange noises in the night that she finally received a truthful answer. "I'll show you," he said. The following day he took her out into the jungle, where they both silently watched an immense pillar of black smoke rise up and down into the air, moving about like a creature out of a horror movie.

She stopped asking questions after that, realizing that whatever was going on on the island didn't abide by any of the natural laws of the universe that she'd been taught to acknowledge rationally. The revelation didn't deter her inquisitive mind, though. So, without permission, she started looking for answers elsewhere. She rummaged through poorly conserved documents, discovered secret underground passageways, and abandoned DHARMA stations; still, whatever had happened to the D.I. remained a mystery that even she couldn't solve on her own. It wasn't until Alex took her out into the jungle, after a particularly heated argument with her father, that Juliet was finally able to lay that question to rest. Against Ben's explicit orders, Alex had shown her a pit filled with twisted curiosities that turned out to be decomposing bodies in faded navy colored jumpsuits. With a start she realized that it was them, that they'd never left, and had been there all along, so close to the barracks.

Horrified she asked what had happened, Alex replied:

"My father."

Like a homesick child Juliet'd crawled into bed that night, craving her sister's comfort more than ever. As she closed her eyes, she imagined that melodic voice soothing her; the feel of familial arms protecting her from the monsters that used to live in her bedroom closet when she was a little girl. For a moment she was eight again, and her sister her protector.

For months, she'd clung to those memories like a drowning woman to air, and with each new burning breath she watched herself drift further from the shores of that longed for existence, until one day, the image on the horizon curved and her sister dropped from view completely.

By 2002, Ben had her bound to an unbreakable promise, a chain and ball shackled to her soul. Goodwin taught her how to mask her longings, tempering her burning desire for home. And while, like a parasite, Ben continued to try to worm his way into her heart, (often dropping by unannounced with wild flower bouquets and Belgium chocolate) she taught herself to carefully stave off his advances, until she could stave them off no more.

Between 2001 and 2004, she lost nine women to a nameless invader that dragged her to the edge of insanity. It left no traceable data for her to analyse, and for months, she ploughed waist deep through a disease filled swamp of misery and despair. She located its entrance into the body, she watched how it tore through her patients, and she knew when it killed, but she remained blind to where it housed. All she could determine with absolute certainty was that it was happening, and that there was nothing she could do about it. And while over time, the memories of those nine wounds turned into rough skinned scars, any thoughts that she might have had of Richard slipped through the cracks of her subconscious, not to resurface until 1974.

Who was eyeliner Benjamin Button? James's guess was as good as hers.

She returned her attention to the road ahead, where she'd been trampling through bramble bushes, and wadding through clear water brooks for the past hour. She made sure to keep her estimated guess of the Temple's location on her right, while taking careful stock of her surroundings on her left, moving about with extreme stealth; the way she'd been taught to move about by them. It had become second nature to her now, like falling down and standing back up. But then, so had lying, cheating and manipulating her way out of impossible situations. There were moments, like these, when that realization hit her hard. She hadn't always been like this. In fact, she wasn't anything like the woman she used to know. That person had had morals, integrity, and no backbone whatsoever. It seemed like decades ago, but it had only been four short years since she'd last behaved like Edmund's string puppet, a lapdog with no discernible purpose. Not anymore. She'd learned her lessons the hard way: to lead or to be led, to harm or to be harmed, and to kill or to be killed.

She looked up, the wind had changed; she was close now. As another minute past she caught soft whispers, the kind that used to include hers. Pots clinging together, the crackle of a midday fire, the swishing of fabric, hands clapping, laughter. She stepped closer: shouting, more laughter; the careless rustle and bustle of people living their lives.

She could see them now, and for a moment she watched them from behind overgrown bushes. She crouched closer, twigs bending under the weight of her fingertips, but not snapping. She was more careful than that.

To her surprise, she recognized a lone woman next to a boiling cauldron that stood perched in the middle of the camp. A young Amelia. Pensively, she stirred the pot, cooking what smelled like a mixture of island vegetables and boar meat. A little to her left a young girl sat crossed legged in front of a boy, playing a clapping game. She couldn't quite make out their faces, but she briefly wondered about their names, if she knew them –would know them. There were more people, young and old. Some she recognised, others that had either died or left long before her arrival. Also, more children that would grow up to be vague acquaintances or book club participants.

She suppressed the urge to flee, deterring the heart racing expectation that foreshadowed her presence; the image powerful enough to change her mind. She rose slowly, then stepped out into the open with bold determination, her hands held high up above her head, one foot in front of the other. It was a stupid move. They were unpredictable and much more dangerous than their future counterparts.

She took another step closer, a branch snapped in two. Their reaction immediate: eyes turned on her at an inhuman speed, silence muzzled the buoyant atmosphere. Various threatening clicks snapped into place, weapons balanced high upon army trained arms. She counted five men swiftly closing in on her.

"Who are you?!" one yelled.

Why are you breaking the truce?" another demanded.

She turned to look at each of them, he wasn't among them.

"I need to speak to the person in charge."

They laughed; the echoes of their derisive mirth pressing down on her courage.

"I don't think you're in any position to be making demands, lady."

She really wasn't, but that didn't stop her from staring down a very young Tom Friendly. He couldn't be much older than twenty-five. Once, her superior in age and status, now her junior in years as well as knowledge. This was strange. Would he recognise her 26 years from now? Was that why he'd always been so nice to her? Because he knew?

"Stand down!" a rough accented voice suddenly cut through the group. Every face in the clearing turned, but Juliet had a hard time tearing her eyes away from Tom.

She'd never meant for him to die. If only she could warn him somehow, forge a connection through time and prevent a bad future outcome from coming to pass. "Whatever happened, happened", Daniel's voice thundered through her mind. Did her Tom know that she was the one who would end up digging his grave? Young Tom's riffle pointed straight at her, would he be the one digging hers? Would it come full circle, right here? Right now?

"What have we here?"

She forced her eyes away. A woman, roughly her own age and similar in looks, approached the group.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

Juliet blinked, confused, her mind half on Tom still.

"Where's Richard?" she blurt out.

The woman sniggered.

"Richard? What makes you think he'd want to speak to the likes of you?" affirming whispers, and nodding figures stepped up behind the woman.

"He'd want to know I'm here."

"He'd want to know you are here?"

Their amusement peaked.

"And what, pray tell, makes a DHARMA puppet such as yourself so special that Richard'd want to know?"

DHARMA puppet? She hadn't heard that one before. But if evidence was what they wanted, then she had nothing to worry about. They seared it onto her skin for a reason, after all.

"Check my back," she said.

"What?"

"My lower back, check it."

The woman's expression shifted, a concoction of amusement and disdain spawning forth some mild interest that stretched to the curving of her brows.

She looked at Tom.

"You heard the woman,"she shrugged. "Check her back, Tom."

Tom nodded.

"Unzip," he demanded.

Juliet compliantly pulled her jumpsuit down to her waist, revealing a white tank top underneath; with the barrel of his rifle Tom pushed the fabric up, and as the mark that lay seared upon her skin sprung into view, the tension in the air shifted once more.

Sharp intakes of breath seemed to suck the oxygen straight from the surrounding trees, travelling all around and down the wide clearing.

"Who gave that to you?" the woman asked, turning a whiter shade of pale as her eyes darted from Tom to the others.

"Let me talk to Richard first," Juliet repeated.

"Who gave you that mark?!"

"I'll tell Richard!" she countered.

"Tell me!"

"No!"

Her eyes darkened, and before Juliet could comprehend what happened next Tom had already slammed the butt of his rifle into her lower back. With a loud cry she crashed to her knees, rough hands pulled her up by her hair, and as the pain shot through her head and down her back it was hard to focus; the feeling similar to that of hundred needles sticking through her skull all at once. She looked up, the butt of another riffle hanging suspended in mid-air, aimed straight at her stomach. Reflexively she put her arms out, protecting that which she couldn't stand to lose.

"No! Stop!" she begged, her voice hoarse. "I'm pregnant!"

The man hesitated, his rifle poised, held back only by sheer doubt. He looked to the woman in charge.

"I'm one of you!" Juliet cried out, anger temporarily casting out all rational thought.

The woman motioned for the others to stand down, and Juliet heavily dropped to the ground, her heart hammering against her ribcage at a painful speed. She couldn't be sure of what she would have done if the man hadn't hesitated, but she sure as hell knew that the outcome wouldn't have been in his favor.

"You're no more one of us than any traitor who bears that mark will ever be again."

"At least it shows that at some point, I was one of you," she wheezed.

"A fleur-de-lis is hardly an original mark."

"Yet," she took in a painfully slow, but controlled breath. "This design is unique, and you know it."

The woman's upper lip quivered, extreme agitation forming around the corners of her mouth.

"Richard!" she called, never breaking eye-contact.

It was then that Juliet recognised her, the intense icy blues, the thick British accent. This had to be the famed Eloise Hawking. For some reason she'd always pictured her to be taller, and broader. The type of woman who enjoyed deer hunting and hammer throwing on early Sunday mornings right before dawn broke through the night. She'd imagined a wild tempered shark. But this? No. Not this. Eloise was slim, petite even, moving about with the same grace as a proud lioness. A hunter by nature, always with her pride in mind, nothing like a shark. Yet, the lines about her eyes mirrored Juliet's own mask, hiding an intense past filled with contradictions. Maybe, in another life, they would have been friends.

"Who's this?"

Richard appeared as summoned, popping into view like a genie out of a bottle. He looked exactly the same. He always looked the same. They locked eyes, and Juliet felt a shiver run down her spine. Bizarre, just bizarre.

"She bears the mark," Eloise barked. "How can she bear the mark?"

Richard looked confused, not quite comprehending what Eloise was referring to, but as he studied Juliet there lay sudden recognition in his eyes. It betrayed a thought, as though he'd been waiting for something like this to happen.

"What mark?"

"Our fleur-de-lis."

He stepped closer, Tom lifted Juliet's top again, stepping even closer Richard bend down, lightly touching the mark, his fingers cold on her skin.

"How is this possible?" he asked, looking up at Tom.

The young man stammered, but Richard shook his head, and waved him away.

"Where did you get this?" he said, for the first time really looking at her. "This is a very particular mark. Who gave this to you?"

"Jacob," she lied.

"What did you say?" a slow staccato punctuated each word.

"I want to talk to Jacob."

He studied her closely, his eyes burning holes into her skin. He knew more, much, much more.

"Take her to my tent," he ordered.

"What are you doing?" Eloise demanded.

"I need to talk to this woman in private."

"That's against the rules of the truce!"

"Jacob wants it so."

"How in the hell–"

"Eloise!" Richard cut off. "Trust me."

Juliet was sure that if Eloise had had fangs Richard surely would have fallen victim to her seething rage by now. But she stood her ground, respecting the wishes of a deity whose existence she probably had to take on faith as much as Ben had had to.

Firm hands guided her past Eloise, and the woman gave her one last foul look in passing.

Once inside Richard motioned for her to sit, then turned to the men behind her.

"Leave us," he ordered.

"I don't think–"

"I really don't care what you think, Brian. Leave us, now!"

Brian muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, but did as told, motioning for the other man to follow suit.

"What's your name?" Richard asked, once they'd left.

"My name?"

"Yes, you have one, I trust?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well?"

"Juliet."

"Last name?"

"Carlson."

"Carlson?" he frowned.

"Burke," she corrected. "Look, I–"

"Juliet Burke," Richard continued.

She stopped, rendered somewhat speechless by the interruption and this strange obsession with her name.

"You know what's funny, Juliet?"

Richard turned around, and sat down on the cot in front of her; the bed creaking beneath his weight as he pensively leaned forward on his arms.

"Two days ago, Jacob appeared to me," she sat up straighter; a pounding pain shooting through her back; she ignored it.

"He told me the strangest thing. Jacob said, that in a couple of days time, I should expect a woman by the name of Juliet Burke to come striding straight through the jungle into our camp, demanding to see him."

She stared, unmoved.

"Exactly, like you did just now," he paused. "Isn't that a funny coincidence?"

"I don't know what to tell you," she said, chilled by the thought of predestination. Although, by now she'd learned that there really was no such thing as a linear passage of time. She was living proof of that.

"No, I didn't think you would. But Jacob gave me a note," from his chest pocket he pulled a perfectly symmetrically folded piece of parchment paper, her name written in the centre in indelible ink, Jacob's ink.

She reached for it, but Richard held onto it, forcing her to look up to where his eyes met hers.

"I'm to go with you," he said.

"Go where?"

"Wherever it is you plan on going."

He let go of the note.

With trembling fingers, she unfolded it.

Jacob's message was short, poetic even:

"You may leave, But only once.     Return,     and you are     to stay.     

Choose wisely, Juliet.     

Richard will show you the way."      

        - Jacob     

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A/N: I know it took me a while to get this chapter up! I'm sorry! I always try to be as detailed and coherent as possible in my writing, and this one took a lot of time to figure out. I love writing from Juliet's POV, though! She's so incredibly complex, and I wanted to bring that to live more in this chapter. Hope it shows!

I decided to change the title of the story, because I just wasn't happy with it. I personally think that this new title does the story more justice; I just hope that changing it didn't make it too hard for you guys to find the story again. I promise, the title won't change again. This is it.

I also wanted to respond to the Guest who left a review on this story on ff.

First of all, thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words. I hope you'll continue to enjoy this story, and I truly appreciate the kind of detailed review that you left! I always love to hear what goes on in the minds of those who read my stories. Thank you for that! And also, yes the summary might give away a bit much, but it also only reveals the tip of the iceberg of what I've got in mind for this story! The true purpose of the summary was to create an expectation. I'm actually very curious to know what you think it means! But all in all, even if it means what you think it means, there's a lot more to it than just that one storyline/chapter. Ha! I hope I'm making sense!

Anyway, thank you all for reading this story. Hope to see you again in the next chapter!

[andwhatdostarsdobest]

Here we go again | Part two [h.o]

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of sex, mild swearing

Summary: The world is wide and Y/N wants to make some memories. After a pit stop in Paris, she is now trying to get to Kalokairi, where she believes great things await. Will wild and funny Haz be an annoyance or an adventure of his own?

Word Count: 4k

Okay part two of this Mamma Mia: Here we go again inspired fic is here. This was a super fun chapter to write, I hope it is just as fun to read! 

Songs Included: Why did it have to be me? by Abba

See if you can guess who the third boy Y/N will meet is? 

Happy reading, lovelies

masterlist part 1 part 3

‘I'm young, the world is wide, and I want to make some memories.’

 You sprint along the jetty, boots falling heavily on the rickety surface and bags banging into your hip.

“Hey, wait,” you throw your free hand in the air, waving frantically at the boat that is slowly getting further away, “wait for me, please.”

You contemplate just dropping your luggage right there on the jetty, you need to catch that boat.

It needs to be that boat.

You can feel it. Something special awaits you on the island and that boat is your only chance to get there.

“Wait,” you shout, hope beginning to diminish as the boat starts pulling away faster.

If you miss this boat, you know that there is a whole world of adventures that you will be missing.

It needs to be today. It needs to be that boat.

You’re almost there, almost at the edge of the dock, feet rhythmically pounding as they attempt to get you there in time.

Two kids sit on the bench at the back of the boat, watching you run after it, knowing you aren’t going to make it. They wave at you as they chuckle to one another, enjoying your failure. You stick your tongue out at them as you curse to yourself.

“Damn, I needed to catch that ferry,” you mutter.

There must be another way to get there today.

You bring your hand up and run it through your hair, ideas whirring through your mind.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, there will be another one tomorrow,” a distinctly English voice croons behind you.

“But I really wanted to catch that one,” you sigh, staring after the ferry.

“What’s so important in Kalokairi?” he asks.

“I don’t know yet,” you smile to yourself thinking of all the possibilities that await, “I’ll find out when I get there.”

You turn around still stuck in your daydream.

“Huh, well do you think you’ll miss this?”

A small chuckle escapes his lips as you look up to the person you’ve been conversing with. You’re greeted with eyes so blue they blend in with the ocean around you, sparkling like the water when the golden sun reflects on its surface. You suck in a small breath, your brain buffering. He raises a sculpted eyebrow as he holds one of your bikini tops in front of him.

Cocking your head to the side, you’re finally able to process words again.

“Hey, that’s mine.” You take a step forward, reaching your hand out.

He smoothes the garment against his chest and grins, looking down at it, "what is it not my colour?"

He starts swaying from side to side, “I think I could pull it off.” He winks before starting to whirl around the dock, keeping the swimming costume close to his chest.

“Hey, give it back,” you playfully demand.

He pauses for a moment and scans you up and down, before continuing to twirl. You drop your bags and lunge for him.  Jumping on his back, you try to reach around his arms and grab back your possession, but he manages to swat them away every time.

He is still spinning and you’re starting to get dizzy.

Oh no, gonna be sick, gonna be sick.

It seems he is too as he stops and says, “okay, okay, I give in.”

Thank god.

You jump off his back, taking a moment to reorient yourself, your head feeling heavier than normal. When you do you immediately seize your top back. The guy holds his hands up in submission.

This guy is trouble, that’s for sure. You can never trust a guy with a grin so impish and immediate confidence to match.

With his hands still raised he points one finger to the left, his eyes following the line, “can I have those then?”

There he goes with that mischievous smile again. It’s not cute, definitely not really really cute.

You look to where he is pointing. A selection of your clothes is scattered across the dock.

“Urgh god,” you mumble, a light blush blooming across your cheeks as you scramble to pick them up.

You shove them into your bag as you go. As you go to reach for the last top another hand greets yours, travelling up the tanned skin you reach his face and those eyes. They almost make you short circuit for the second time.

“Here,” he offers you the shirt, “I’m Haz, by the way.”

Hey, this isn't no romcom, buddy.

Cramming the top in your bag and zipping it back up you turn back to Haz, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he swirls the name around in his mouth before returning his gaze to you, “I like it, it suits you.”

Hah, not falling for that.

“So, Y/N,” he draws out, letting each syllable roll off his tongue.

“So, Haz,” you mimic.

“Why do you need to get to Kalokairi today?”

“Because I have a dream.”

“And that dream is in Kalokairi?”

He takes a few steps back, leaning on the stern of a boat tied at the jetty.

“I’m almost certain of it,” your mind wonders again, “I can feel it.”

“Hmm.” Haz bites his lips, seemingly mulling over a decision. In a flash, he has jumped onto the boat.

He regally strides across the deck, very deliberately gliding his hand along the railing.

“Shame you missed that boat then,” he teases.

Watching him walk along the boat it suddenly clicks.

“You know what would be great?” You ran your tongue over your teeth.

He stops and grips the rope railings, eyes wide, “what’s that?”

Definitely more trouble than he’s worth.

“Well, if someone I knew already had a boat,” you pause for emphasis, “perhaps a stranger who I just met but would be willing to sail me over to the little island.”

“Huh, now wouldn’t that be a stroke of luck.”

Haz runs his hand through his honey hair, “now I bet this stranger would be young, spontaneous and roguishly handsome.”

You roll your eyes, “he’s probably passable looking,” you gesture towards the boat, “but he has a boat.”

Waggling your eyebrows at him, you await his response.

This guy is going to get on your nerves but it's worth it if it means that you can get to Kalokairi. Anything would be worth it if you could get to Kalokairi.  

“Yeah, that would be really great,” he begins.

He leans back, his hands still gripping the railing, stopping him from falling. His shirt tightens around his biceps as they strain under the added pressure, whilst the veins worm their way to the surface and create a pattern across the skin. You can tell he is building up the anticipation with his silence. He is loving every second of this.

The tease.

He releases his grip on the railings.

“Shame this is not my boat.”

Fucking trouble, I knew it. Not to mention a waste of time.

Your mouth falls open, all this flirting wasted. Now you still had no way to the island and you had just wasted your time trying to win this stranger over.

Haz leaps off the boat and reaches you in three elongated strides.

He pouts, “I was just trying to impress the pretty girl.”

“Urgh, I haven’t got time for this, I need to get to Kalokairi.” You push his chest lightly, picking up your bag and making your way back down the jetty.

Five fingers wrap themselves around your wrist, pulling gently, you turn your head, not really interested in anything else Haz has to say.

There is a glint in his eye, “I’m only joking, pretty girl.”

“Y/N,” you grumble.

Haz unfurls his fingers from around your wrist and your arm drops by your side.

“I was joking, this my boat,” he winks, “Y/N.”

You straighten up. “You sure?”

He looks down at your bag and then back up to your face, “well, seems like you don’t have a choice. Come on, I have time to take you to Kalokairi, it only takes a day.”

Is this a good move? He is a stranger. But a stranger with a boat. And you do need a boat. What’s the worse that could happen anyway?

You scan him up and down.

“Kalokairi awaits,” you exclaim, before skipping past him and hauling yourself up onto the boat, dumping your bag at the first opportunity.

“Come on,” you call behind you.

Haz rushes after you, a big smirk spreading over his face.

You sit on the boat, a silence overcoming the two of you, bouncing your leg up and down to keep you busy.

The silence continuing for the next twenty minutes, the only interaction you two share being a glance and a shrug.

Perhaps you won’t have to worry about him causing trouble?

The next five minutes go by and still nothing but nail picking and determinedly staring out at the rushing water.

You hear a huff to your side and Haz states, “well this isn’t going well.”

Does it make it more awkward to mention how awkward it is, or less? You can never tell.

Your expression remains stagnant as you try to figure out where to take this.

“So,” you try, “how often do you take your boat out?”

“Oh no,” Haz puffs, “this is not happening. I have a beautiful girl on my boat and I can’t let that opportunity go to waste.”

You raise an eyebrow.

A smile broadens on his face and he leaps up.

Sidling down next to you, he places a finger under your chin, lifting it to look at him.

“When you were lonely,” he belts out.

What the hell is he doing?

“You needed a man,” he flexes his arm, flashing you a cheeky grin.

“What the fu-" you start before he puts a finger to your lips shushing you.

“Someone to lean on, well I understand,” he continues.

You’re stunned into silence. Is he really singing right now? What’s his motive with this?

“It’s only natural,” he jumps up, solidly landing on the decking and holding one hand close to his heart and pointing the other towards you, “but why did it have to be me?”

“Ahh,” you gasp, mouth agape.

Haz is suddenly filled with all this relentless energy, he swivels on the spot and ducks under the sail. He watches you, waiting for you to get up and join him but all you can do is just keep staring at him incredulously.  

He may be an idiot, but you have to admit that you want to jump up and join him.

But you won’t, he doesn’t get you that easily.

When you don’t move, Haz ducks back under the sail and throws himself down next to you, the toothy grin never once leaving his mouth.

“Nights can be empty, nights can be cold.” He yawns and lifts his arm, letting it settle on your shoulder.

“So you were looking for someone to hold.” His hand creeps further around your shoulder and he taps his fingers on your bare skin. The sensation sets your body tingling and brings your attention to the fact his arm is around you.

I said not that easily.

You tap his hand and it drops behind you. Rising to your feet and shaking your head. Even though you're trying so hard not to find this charming.

He holds his hands up in mock submission, “that’s only natural. But why did it have to be me?”

Haz frowns, his eyes widening and sucking you in for a second. You shake your head to escape their trance.

For a moment his energy diminishes, he mutters under his breath, “Ummm, awkward question, but do you not know this song?”

Now it’s your turn to do some teasing.

“I do,” you answer, your tongue resting on your incisors.

He closes one eye in concentration, trying to work out what you are saying.

Slowly he suggests, “so, you just don’t feel like singing?”

The faintest splotches of pink start to appear on Haz’s face as he waits for your reply.

I’ve let him suffer enough now. Besides who doesn’t love a bit of Abba.

You stare into his eyes for several seconds before flashing your own. You reach behind and pick up a sun-bleached captain’s hat, putting it on jauntily.

“I was so lonesome, I was blue,” you sing, holding one hand against your chest and wiping away pretend tears with the other.

Haz’s face lights up, now that you are in on the game.

“I couldn’t help it, it had to be you and I,” you sing.

Haz reaches forward and grabs the hat from you. He breaks out into laughter, his tongue held in between his teeth as his body rocks. Lines appear around his mouth and under his eyes, making his face looked lived in.

Cute.

“Always thought you knew the reason why,” he winks and starts walking towards you. You throw up your hand to keep him at bay.

Walking backwards, you sing, “I only wanted a little love affair.”

His eyebrows raise at that and he brings your hand into his chest, still walking towards you. You continue to walk backwards.

“Now I can see you are beginning to care,” Haz lulls.

You jump up onto the raised decking, looking down at him, “but baby, believe me. It’s better to forget me.”

Catching both your breath for a moment, you look each other over, ending at each other’s eyes simultaneously. Your heart flutters somewhat as you look into those magical eyes. Maybe it wasn’t the island itself that promised magic, perhaps it was the journey there.

“Men are toys in the game that you play,” Haz sings as you pull him up to meet you, breathing out the last few words.

His hands rest on your waist and one corner of his mouth curls up, “when you get tired, you throw them away. That’s only natural.”

You groan, trying to wriggle free, but his hands only get tighter.

“But why did it have to be me?” Haz dips you, one of your hand falls back behind your head and grazes the wooden floor. You let out a little scream that morphs into a giggle when you see the innocent look plastered all over Haz’s face. With a little too much force he brings you back up, unbalancing you and you fall against him. When you look up he is looking far too smug, so you push away from him.

Trailing your fingers along the bottom of the sail, you walk slowly in front of him.

“Falling in love with a woman like you,” he walks behind you, “happens so quickly, there’s nothing to do.”

You stop, holding onto the sail and popping your hip. Haz falls to his knees and brings his hands up around your bum, a growl escaping his lips.

“It’s only natural. But why did it have to be me?” you trill.

Laughter warms your body and you throw your head back, enjoying yourself far too much.

In unison, you sing, “I was so lonesome.”

Haz gets to his feet and chases you under the sail, but he slips and slides off the raised decking. This time the laughter doesn’t just warm you, it shakes your entire body. He rolls onto his back, defeated, “I was blue.”

You can’t catch a breath in between your guffawing. Your eyes are starting to water. You just manage to exhale, “I couldn’t help it,” breaking off before you can finish the lyric.

Haz catches it immediately, “it had to be you and I. Always thought you knew the reason why.”

He flips over onto his knees and begins crawling towards you.

“I only wanted a little love affair.”

He pushes himself to his feet, right in front of you, his eyes almost level with your own. He leaves barely an inch between you both and you can feel his shaky breath against the skin of your cheek. Your mouth is slightly ajar.

What was I saying about him before? He's trouble. Hmm, maybe trouble is good.

You suck in a breath, “now I can see,” Haz harmonises, “you are beginning to care. But baby, believe me. It’s better to forget me.”

Both your chests rise up and down at a rapid rate as you try to catch your breath and probably regain your composure. Haz starts to lean in a little, breath out, breath in, lean in a little more, breath out, until the tip of his nose is just grazing yours.

I think it’s too early for trouble yet.

“I think it’s too early for trouble,” you whisper.

“Huh, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Shaking your head, you walk towards the stairs down to the cabin, “where am I sleeping?”

Haz opens his mouth to speak, a glint in his eye.

You blurt out, “and don’t say with you.”

“We’ll see about that,” he purrs.

“Huh?”

“Nothing, sweetheart.”  

You roll over in bed, away from the white moonlight that seeps in through the porthole. Sighing, you flip on your stomach, then to your other side, then to your back, unable to get comfortable on the unfamiliar bed. The blanket that you have drawn around you itches and you’re sharing your bed with an abundance of Haz’s stuff. You’ve never been good at sleeping away from your bed but tonight you just can’t seem to get any rest at all, not even a measly five minutes.

You sigh out in frustration.

Bet Haz is sleeping like a baby. Dickhead.

Not wanting to wake him you lay still, looking up at the ceiling. The moonlight is bouncing around the room reflecting off the water in your glass, causing shimmery waves above you. You watch them roll across the ceiling, trying to find peace in them. The tranquillity you require to sleep. They don’t help. You thrash your legs out in front of you, wiggling on your bed, trying to shake off all the restless energy.

Click.

You freeze, unable to identify the sound. The door behind you slides open and Haz steps out, yawning. You quickly snap one eye shut but hold the other one open curious about what your sailing companion is up to in the middle of the night, something telling you that you should pretend to be asleep. Until he walks past your bed.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” You throw your hands up to cover your eyes whilst trying to turn your head away from the very naked boy in front of you.

"Ahh," Haz screams. He whips around towards the voice, squinting to try to make you out in the dark cabin.

You risk peeking through your eyes and instantly regret it.

“Cover it up,” you shout.

For a second Haz seems confused, then he looks down and realises his lack of clothes.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, bringing his hand down to protect his modesty.

He scratches the back of his head, sleep still fogging his brain.

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep,” he apologises.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

The silence that follows, although only a few seconds feels like a lifetime. If this were a film, you would be able to hear crickets.

“You can take your hands down now,” he says.

“Hmm, I would feel safer if you were wearing this,” you move your hand across your bed feeling for your blanket. When you get a firm grip of it, you throw it in his direction.

A couple more painfully awkward seconds pass.

“Alright, you can look now,” Haz repeats.

Tentatively you uncover your face, barely opening your eyes in case you are greeted with a less than welcome site again.

Haz has wrapped the blanket around his hips, where it is hanging dangerously loose. He catches you staring and pulls it slightly tighter. Even in this low light, you can see the definition of his abs, the strong curve of his biceps. The blanket is slung low enough for you to see the strong v formation that almost looks like an arrow pointing down towards…

Oh fuck, you weren’t supposed to find him hot.

Lucky it’s dark so he can’t see how hot and bothered you’re becoming.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

You nod in response.

“Huh,” he smirks, “liking what you see?”

Oh great, he’s found his confidence again, didn’t take long.

“Okay, I’m going back to sleep.”

You roll onto your side, curling up into a small ball. A tiny chill makes its way down your spine as you really notice the absence of the blanket.

“Wait,” Haz says, his voice becoming quieter, a softness creeping in.

Maybe that’s why you decided to reply.

“What?” you grumble.

“If neither of us can sleep, why don’t we stay up together,” he trails off at the end.

You move so you are looking at him, “and what exactly do you think we’ll be doing together.”

“Just talking.”

That took you back, maybe his mind wasn't always as depraved as you thought. You furrow your brow, wondering what his intentions are with this. This boy always seems to have an ulterior motive. But you can’t sleep and it would be nice to have someone to pass the time with and if he tries anything, well then, you’ll just throw him out.

“Sure,” you concede.

Haz simply radiates warmth after this and clambers onto your bed, keeping a respectful distance.

“So, Y/N, what are you really looking for in Kalokairi?”

 Haz is wild and such a funny guy, one thing led to another and …

The boat bobs along the water unevenly, tiny waves lapping at its edges as it draws into the dock.

In front of you lies Kalokairi, you can’t believe you’ve finally made it. You were ready to make some memories. Even the shore felt special, the pale sand interspersed with an assortment of beautiful shells, small clusters of grains being brushed around by the light breeze. The sun reflected off the water, making it twinkle. Something you had only seen in perfect pictures. Past the beach was a stone covered path that seemed to wrap itself round and round the island. Intensely green trees carved its way.

It was like a postcard. It didn’t seem real.

As soon as the boat knocks against the wooden planks of the dock you scramble up and leap from it. Running down to the end and sinking your feet in the sand, a coolness spread through your toes as the sand settles between them. You heard heavy breaths behind you, so you spin around.

“Don’t forget these, sweetheart.” Haz held out your bags, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

“Thanks,” you beam.

You look back to the island, “it’s wonderful, isn’t it.”

“Mmm, sure is,” Haz rests a hand on your shoulder, “look are sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yes, yes, stop worrying, I’ll be fine.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek, “thank you again for taking me here.”

You think you see him bite the inside of his cheek.

“It’s no problem, really,” he takes a step back, nodding his head solidly, “right, well, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks to check on you, make sure you haven’t gotten into too much trouble.”

“I don’t think it’s me you should worry about getting into trouble,” you chide.

Walking backwards from Haz, you wave at him and he gets the message. He makes his way back to the boat and clambers aboard, untying it from the dock.

“See you soon, Y/N” he shouts.

You blow him a kiss, then turn back to face the beach.

You’ve got a whole island to explore.

[rickrakontoys]

Star Wars - The Last Jedi

A wierd, different, unexpected, uneven, but ultimately satisfying episode in the franchise.

****SPOILERS**** this is going to be looooong….

The Good - The filmmakers took a lot of chances and risks here and I am happy that they did. They showed us new things that we’ve never seen before, and presented a plot that subverts your expectations to lead the characters to new journeys and arcs. - Luke was terrific as a dejected former jedi master who’s past failure led him to exile. Some fans may have wanted him to remain some kind of power fantasy character who just uses the Force to… blow Star Destroyers up or some shit, but here he plays a believable interpretation of a teacher who failed his students and is suffering from deep regrets. He came to that isolated island “to die” as he says, but his arc here follows the theme of “learning to pick yourself up even in the face of terrible failure". Despite being an old curmudgeon now, he is still recognizably Luke Skywalker. Mark Hamill gives his best performance here. And his final “battle” at the end is badass, surprising and clever, not to mention showing us a new use of The Force (which in my mind totally makes some sense). If the dead can project their image through the force, why can’t a living jedi? That Luke acts quite dramatic when facing Kylo Ren as a “hologram” is just funny. Luke’s journey ended in ROTJ. Here he plays one final part in the story of this galaxy. “See you around kid” he says to Kylo. Perhaps he is saying it to us as well. - Leia has a lot of unexpected scenes here… namely, her use of the Force to save herself from what would have been a deadly experience! This felt at first like it came out of nowhere, but Leia has previously shown to possess some strong connection to the Force. Her character is out of commission for a chunk of the movie, but Carrie Fisher does give a very subtle and poignant performance here. How they will reconcile Fisher’s passing for Episode 9 will remain to be seen… - Rey and Kylo’s journeys here compliment each other and are amazing. You honestly don’t know how things will turn out, since they tease both of them being pulled away from their respective sides of the Force often here. Their direct connection to each other through the Force was new, and gave us some very interesting scenes where they talk and interact despite being worlds apart. Kylo gets much more development here, and does some rather unexpected things. He is both sympathetic, and detestable. He is still very much a tortured young man lashing out at the galaxy. Rey mostly plays the role of the student in search of a teacher. She goes looking for Luke, finds him, but he ain’t having it at all, and just lets her hang around for a bit to her disappointment. She eventually takes her own initiative and sort of earns Luke’s respect for it. - We perhaps learn who Rey’s parents are, and it was as I wished: they are nobodies who sold her off as a kid then died in a shallow grave on Jakku. I would have HATED if they were somehow someone we already knew… Rey’s importance isn’t through blood but through her own initiative. She even admits to knowing all along but being afraid to admit it. Daisy Ridley is still fantastic as Rey. I like her even more than before! Kylo can satisfy the Skywalker bloodline requirement of the series in this new trilogy. Let someone else be the hero for a change. - Kylo just straight up murders that silly CGI Supreme Leader Snoke and I love it. Snoke was just Palpatine-lite, and Kylo is clearly the more interesting villain the new series should focus on. Who cares who Snoke was… nobody really cared who Palpatine was in ROTJ… he too was just an evil overlord who gets killed by his apprentice (until Lucas devoted 3 movies to him…). This feels like Rain Johnson cleaning up after JJ Abrams. Snoke was silly and I’m glad he dies unclimactically after only 2 movies. - Poe is a lot more hot-headed here than in the first movie, though we didnt really spend much time with him in TFA. He gets an arc here too though, which also fits in with the themes of the film. His actions get a ton of people killed and essentially cripples the Resistance, but he learns from his mistakes eventually and becomes a better leader for it. - The general theme of the movie being moving past one’s failures is interesting here since it let the filmmakers subvert so many tropes. Most of the plans the Resistence people enact all lead to disaster. In fact, their desperate flight from impending doom through the entire movie felt quite harrowing. Unlike ESB where the rebels successfully escape Hoth to live and fight another day with minimal losses, the Resistance here is absolutely wrecked and continue to be destroyed through the entire runtime. How they will recover from this remains to be seen, and we now know nothing about where this story will go in Episode 9 because of how screwed they are by the end… Meanwhile the First Order suffers from their own failures, but appear too smug about themselves to see their own hubris. They could have easily wiped the Resistance out, but choose to slowly chase them, as if to let the rebels witness the loss of all hope. It doesn’t exactly backfire, but instead renews the rebels fire to fight back. - There is a lot about the Force here that evolves the Star Wars mythos a bit. From the old Jedi texts, to Luke admitting that the Jedi doomed themselves long ago in the prequels, we see Star Wars moving past Jedi and Sith and becoming something different. I’m glad they didnt rely so heavily on what only was shown before with respect to the capabilities of a Force user or the nature of the Force in general. People may not like this, but the change is welcome. Also… YODA!!!! Slightly crazed puppet Yoda!!! He’s still teaching Luke new things. Wished ghost Obi-wan also appeared somehow… but that may be going too far. - The battles and duels in this movie were spectacular. The lightsaber fight in Snoke’s throne room? One of the best fights in the series… it was exciting and realistically choreographed, flashy without being excessive (like the prequels). A good balance between the fights in the OT and prequels. Seeing Rey and Kylo battling Snoke’s guards in a long take, shot clearly with the static angle… magnificent. Plus we get to see Kylo at full strength as opposed to crippled in TFA. He takes on multiple enemies at once, while Rey struggles with one guard. - The cinematography here is in general quite lovely. Rian Johnson loves his wide shots, and fills them with a beauty not often seen in these movies. There are some gorgeous shots here… from Holdo’s weaponized Hyperspace maneuver, to Luke’s standoff against the AT-ATs, and his final scene looking to the twin sunset that recalls the similar shot on Tatooine long ago… the use of color throughout makes for a very pretty movie. - We get flashback scenes here oddly enough… which we never got in other episode films. Plus, Rian wasnt afraid to venture into other types of shots and scenes, like a minor use of slow motion. They let the filmmmakers inject their own style into the movie. - The porgs were thankfully not too obtrusive. They are just sorta there to annoy Chewie. Chewie roasting some for dinner while they watch horrified was great and rather morbid. - Seeing Luke on the Falcon again, and his scene with R2… very poignant, and melancholy. They somehow manage to use Leia’s old message to Obi Wan to further Luke’s character development. - The battle on the salt planet Crait was neat. They make you think there will be some Hoth style battle against the AT-ATs, but its ultimately subverted by having the Resistance not even have a remote chance at all of doing any damage due to their lack of useful weapons. Finn tries the heroic sacrifice but… eh… Rose saves him and ends up letting the First Order blast a hole in the base. The hopelessness is really driven far here. - It took until the ending for me to realize Poe never was introduced to Rey ever. Also, did Rey steal the Jedi texts from that tree Luke planned on torching? You see some books in a drawer that Finn takes a blanket out of on the Falcon. Perhaps Rey will use them to help revive the Jedi order? - The last scene of the movie was an odd one to close out on… some orphans talking about Luke Skywalker like some legendary hero… then one of them uses the force to grab a broom? The Force is alive in others! Hope always survives! A bit on the nose but it makes you contemplate the future beyond the current heroes. The Bad…. - Finn and Rose’s entire subplot was superfulous and kind of terrible… I could see how it ties into the theme of the movie (hatching a clever plan to fight the First Order that ultimately fails spectacularly, but they keep fighting anyways), but that didnt stop it from being rather dull. Canto Blight felt out of place… like you were watching Harry Potter or the Hunger Games. And the whole animal horse chase thing fell kinda flat… - Benicio del Toro is in this… he plays some wierdo hacker (slicer?) with a stutter. He ultimately amounts to very little. He’s played convincingly, but only added to the superfulousness of Finn and Rose’s subplot… - In fact… that whole subplot was what damaged this movie severely. It is clearly the weakest part of an otherwise interesting film. How they come up with the plan to infiltrate the First Order ship to disable their hyperspace tracking device thing felt halfbaked. Finn and Rose spout some technobabble that feels straight out of Star Trek, then decide to gungho this odd mission. They threw Maz Kanata in there for a moment for no reason… why would Finn and Poe ask her for help? Finn barely met her. Does Poe even know her at all? All of this coulda been avoided if Vice Admiral Holdo just told Poe about her and Leia’s secret plan at the start! - Rose is gonna be divisive…. she feels like a fan stand-in character. She fangirls over Finn, goes on an adventure with him, and is suddenly in love with him? Sure I guess… i suppose i could buy that, considering she was previously some unseen common worker for the Resistance meeting a “celebrity”. Finn didnt seem to react much to her kiss though. His heart seems out for Rey. - Rey just casually dropping herself off at Snoke’s ship felt a wee bit too convenient… then after the battle in the throne room she just… appears back on the Falcon. Jarring, despite the attempt to explain it. - Phasma is used so little i wonder why they bothered making her a unique character at all… to sell toys? She gets a badass fight where she dominates Finn, but then seemingly dies in a fiery pit. Maybe they will make it a running gag that she keeps coming back? I hope she survived and returns later anyways. We get to see Gwendolyn Christie’s… eye. Yay? - The music here plays off established themes from the OT and TFA, which is fine, but otherwise there really isnt anything new here. Rose gets a new leitmotif at least. They use Palpatine’s theme during some Snoke scenes too, but is it meant to suggest they are related? - Honestly, the middle of the film just drags too long, and its all due to the Finn and Rose scenes. I get they needed to have Finn do something, but was that Canto Blight stuff necessary? That they just fly off somewhere then return to the fleet chase later kinda trivialized the whole scenario. They also introduce an idea that weapons manufacturers are profitting off the perpetual war between empire and rebellion. Neat, but they don’t really explore it further… feels like that belongs in a different movie… - The beginning of the movie focused a lot on Rose’s sister despite us not knowing much about her. Just kinda an odd choice? Those rebel bombers that just drop bombs on top of the dreadnught are also kinda dumb… most of the rebel fighter craft are decimated right off the bat. Summary: It may take more viewings to see where this truly stands qualitywise in the series. The Force Awakens definitely flowed better and had better pacing, but this one was more inventive and introduced us to newer concepts and was less predictable. Apart from the weak Canto Blight subplot and some other plot goofery, the film works. For now, I think it can give it an 8.5/10.0. I respect the hell out of them for doing some ballsy things that they know will rile part of the fanbase. Franchise rankings (out of 10): ESB & ANH 9.0 (fresh and with a truly lasting legacy) TLJ 8.5 (for evolving the franchise) RotJ 8.25 (a good close to the OT but imperfect) TFA 8.0 (overly familiar beats but still fun) ROTS 7.0 (flawed but sort of gives more weight to what happens in ROTJ) Rogue One 6.5 (very flawed, kind of a mess) TPM & AOTC 5.0 (some parts of it i like, the rest is nonsensical or dull) People seem to forget how different ESB was from ANH. This is the case here compared to TFA. I think its neat how each trilogy has its own unique feel and energy. I only hope JJ Abrams grows beyond his shortcomings in Ep. 9 and gives us something also unique and fresh.

[raflovestuffs]

That is who you are: Chapter 8

First l Previous l Next

Hey there! My dear translator @whosthatgal just finished the translation of a new chapter of mine! I hope you’ll enjoy it! It’s getting a little darker...

Please tell me in the comments if you like this turn of events!

What did they want from him? My question stayed unanswered. I fought with all my strength to free myself from the grasp of these men that separated me from the man I loved. I had to get back to Hiccup—I couldn’t leave him in Drago’s hands.

“Let me go!” I pleaded.

“Out of the question!” one of them replied, holding me even tighter.

“Please, I’m begging you—Hiccup is in danger! You have to let me go!”

I was close to panic. I had to get a hold of myself, but how? How could I possibly put things into perspective when the person I loved the most in the world was in the talons of the most dangerous madman the world had ever known?

Come on, Astrid, calm down…You’re stronger than this.

Yes, I was stronger than this, and I was going to prove it.

The men steered me out of the castle, and we followed the paved alleys of the town until we finally arrived at the port of Göteborg. Where were they taking me? What did they want to do with me? We stopped momentarily in front of one of the moored ships, and the leader of the group left with three of his men to take care of some business, leaving me alone with just one guard.

I didn’t have much time to act. The man had me with my hands behind my back, and didn’t have any means of defending himself.  Seizing my chance, I kicked him violently in the crotch.

He lost his grip and I took advantage immediately, knocking him out with two quick punches. I wasted no time in taking back my axe—which the men had brought along with their own weapons—and took off, in the hopes of finding a rowboat. I ran the entire length of the harbour before I finally found one, and jumped inside, setting off in the direction of Berk. It wouldn’t do any good to get back to Hiccup all alone—I’d need to bring everyone, especially our dragons.

The further I got from the harbour, though, the more I felt like I was abandoning Hiccup. I was willingly leaving him alone there, with Drago Bludvist as a jailor. Oh, gods, I was a monster! How could I do this to him?

But I’d have to do it if I wanted to save him… I kept rowing out to open sea, and once I figured I was far enough from the Göteborg harbour, I started calling for my dragon. I was much more at ease on her back than in this boat…but I had no idea where she’d be at this time! I absolutely had to find her.

At that moment, I heard voices shouting, getting dangerously close to where I was—I’d taken too much time to stop and think. I turned and discovered that what looked like Drago’s entire armada was on my heels, and if they caught me that’d be the end of it. I tried my best to pick up speed, but time wasn’t on my side—they caught up to me with no trouble and took possession of the boat.

“What, so you decided to leave without saying goodbye?” the leader of the guards asked me.

He grabbed my arm, holding on with brutal force, then leaned closer.

“The Master isn’t going to be happy when he hears about this…”

“Funny,” I said. “The way I see it, he’s going to be pretty mad at you guys.”

He frowned, throwing me a dirty look. He must not have been used to dealing with a woman who wields an axe as well as me.

“Tie her up!” he shouted. He was annoyed.

I smiled at him, letting the men tie up my hands. They then tied me to the mast of the ship, hands tied behind my back. Then the ship set sail again, but they didn’t head back towards the harbour—in fact, the entire armada was steering towards one single spot: another ship up ahead.

We finally drew level with the other ship, and I was frozen above the scene before me: the vessel ahead of us was, in fact, that of a familiar tribe. Everyone was there: Gobber, Valka, Snotlout, Fishlegs, the twins, Eret…I couldn’t believe it, they had all come to save us.

Then they recognized me.

“Astrid!” Valka cried.

I didn’t want her to worry about me—she had enough going on down on deck. The leader was walking towards them.

“Who are you?” he asked them.

“We’re friends of Hiccup and Astrid and we’re here to bring them home, if it’s not too much trouble,” Gobber said coldly.

“That’s really too bad, because actually we will find that a little too much trouble,” the leader answered.

“We’re not leaving without them!” Valka said.

“You know what? We’ll make a trade. We’ll give you the girl, on the condition that you never come back here. So?”

Gobber paused to think, and Valka approached him.

“It might be our only chance,” she murmured.

Gobber lifted his head and held out his hand to the man.

“It’s a deal.”

Some of the other men freed me from the ropes and led me down to Valka and Gobber. The leader addressed us with a satisfied smile.

“Goodbye…”

We reboarded the dragon riders’ ship, and everyone welcomed me with relief on their faces. I turned back to the leader and his men on the ship—they were still glaring at me.

I was alone.

I was alone with Drago, crazier than ever, while I was tied to a chair with no way out—absolutely none. Despite my own situation, I couldn’t stop thinking about Astrid. Where did they take her? Was she still in Göteborg? It was all too much.

“Where did they take her?” I called out.

“Hmmm…I’m really not sure—I just told them to take care of her,” Drago said.

“If they touch a single hair on her head…”

“Calm down, I’m not sure that’s what they had in mind…Although, who knows?” he said with a deceptive laugh.

“How can you joke about people’s suffering like that?” I asked.

He kept laughing, then finally turned towards me.

“Ah! You’re a real family man, aren’t you? I was one once too…Before. Before the dragons took me!” he growled, grabbing me by the shoulders.

I was petrified, but he calmed down quickly enough, then continued.

“But you have plenty of other qualities, don’t you? Especially with these exotic creatures? Answer me, O Dragon Master!”

I nodded, my heart pounding.

“You really impressed me with your dragon last time, you know that? What was his name again? ‘Toothless’, that’s it. Yes, a night fury, if I’m not mistaken? The breed of your dragon says a lot about you—just like the dragonskin I’m wearing now.”

I hadn’t paid any attention last time, but I looked at him more closely now, horrified at not having realized it before:

“That’s…that’s a night fury skin…”

“It is. I killed it myself when I arrived on the Isle of Night Furies to scare your uncle! And it worked quite well, too, since he’s been wrapped around my finger ever since,” Drago gloated.

“Wait…what? My uncle? The guardian of the island?” I asked, disconcerted.

“What? You didn’t know your mother had a brother?” he said, laughing madly.

This Erik Vemund was my mom’s brother? How could that be possible? This news had me floored, but he kept going.

“In fact, we weren’t there to talk about your family, but to talk about your talent, Hiccup. Because it’s true that you have it—you have a real gift with the dragons. Succeeding at recuperating your dragon like you did, I admit that I didn’t think you had it in you, but you proved me wrong, Dragon Master.”

“I’m not a Dragon Master…”

“So what are you?”

“I’m the chief of Berk.”

“Ah, of course—you became chief after the death of your poor father…”

He went too far.

I struggled furiously against the chair, powerless. He broke out in a sadistic smile.

“After all, it would be a shame to waste such a gift….”

“What are you getting at, Drago?”

“I’m saying that you’re going to train dragons for me.”

“For what?”

“They’ll be the dragons I’ll be using to destroy Berk,” he said, dead serious.

“You know full well I’m not going to do it.”

“Of course not, but you’re not exactly going to be there to help with the destruction,” he said.

“Well, you might as well just kill me now,” I said carefully, “but I guess you wouldn’t have brought me here if you didn’t need me for something, right?”

He seemed a little disconcerted, but carried on.

“I’ve always said you were clever. Yes, there’s another option available to you in this case. Renounce your life with the dragons, and join me! And your people will be saved!”

“Never! We’ll never surrender to you!” I spat.

“But you’ll see that whether you want it or not, one day I’ll bring an end to the tyranny of these demons, and I’ll exterminate every dragon that infects this earth!” he exclaimed.

This man was really off the rails, much crazier than I had imagined. Exterminate all the dragons? I guess that was his ultimate goal? He hadn’t even tried to understand them—I hated people who chose the path of least resistance, who jumped straight to aggression without stopping to think. That’s the kind of person Drago was, and I couldn’t let him get away with this. I could never train his dragons.

“You don’t understand anything…” I said, breaking a long silence.

“The way I see it, it’s you who doesn’t understand. I am your master, you are my prisoner—and you’ll train my dragons, whether you want to or not.”

“No—you don’t understand: I won’t train these dragons because you’re going to use them to destroy my island and kill the dragons that live there—the ones you haven’t even tried to understand,” I said.

“Why should I try to understand the creatures that ripped me from my family? This is nothing but vengeance,” Drago said, addressing me, then he turned to the men in the next room: “Guards! Take him to his cell—maybe he’ll be more co-operative after spending some time in there.”

They pulled me roughly from my chair and dragged me out of the dining room while Drago laughed, his madness clearer than ever.

 “Astrid, tell us what happened,” Valka asked me, a benevolent hand on my shoulder.

I had barely recovered from what had just gone on, but I knew I definitely had some explaining to do. I took a deep breath before beginning.

“Well, I had gone looking for Hiccup, and I found myself on this Isle of Night Furies, trying to escape from its guardian, somebody named Erik. When he finally caught me, Hiccup arrived—and then this Erik guy locked us both in a dungeon!”

“Well, well, I’m sure some things went on in this dungeon,” Snotlout interjected.

“Oh yeah. Those two can’t stay still for two seconds,” Ruffnut agreed.

The whole gang, with the exception of Valka and Gobber, burst out laughing.

“Mind your own business, okay?” I replied coldly.

They all fell silent.

“As I was saying, Erik had us locked up, but then some men came and let us out. Then we tried to escape, because we knew something was wrong, and for good reason. They brought us aboard a ship going to Göteborg, and I’m sure the guardian knew… Oh, if I could get my hands on him!”

Valka looked at me, confused. What did I say?

“Astrid, we need to tell you something, but…don’t get upset…”

She turned and knocked on a trap door in the deck.

“It’s okay, you can come out, Erik.”

Then, the man in the wolfskin came out of the trapdoor. I didn’t understand. What was he doing here?

“I…but…what?” I stuttered.

“Astrid, Erik is my brother. He was under contract to work for Drago. What he did to you and Hiccup was inexcusable, but he’s on our side now.”

Valka had a brother? Amazing, you really did learn something new every day…I knew I should trust Valka, so this guy must have been respectable after all… I needed to know more, but that wasn’t important right now. I needed to finish telling my story.

“Alright, I trust you,” I said, smiling. “Now, where was I? Right: we arrived at Göteborg. So the men brought us to this huge castle, apparently owned by the person they kept calling ‘Master’. And they told us it was totally at our disposal until further notice.”

“Oh man, you must’ve been having a good time these last few days!” Ruffnut said.

You have no idea, I thought to myself—but I definitely couldn’t say that in front of everyone. I grabbed her by the neck and looked her straight in the eyes.

“One more crack like that and I swear to you I’ll throw you overboard!” I hissed.

She shut up then, but she still had a smile at the corners of her lips.

“And this morning when I woke up, Hiccup wasn’t there…so I went downstairs to see where he’d gone, but when I went into the dining room, Hiccup was there, but so was Drago.”

They turned and exchanged strange looks—they didn’t seem shocked by my news. But how could they have already known? I lifted my head towards Erik—of course.

“But I guess you already knew that…Anyway, Hiccup stayed there, to protect me. Drago said that he had to obey him or else he’d hurt me, so Hiccup didn’t hesitate for a second, and Drago’s guards seized me, and now I’m here…He saved me,” I said, my voice barely above a murmur.

“But what does he want with Hiccup?” Gobber asked.

“I have no idea, he just kept talking about how he needed Hiccup’s talents for some ‘personal project’.”

“His talents…with dragons? Oh no…” Valka said.

“What could this nutcase possibly have in mind?” Gobber asked.

“We absolutely need to get him free from Drago,” Valka said.

“Yeah, but before that, we’re going to need to get back to Berk and get our dragons,” I said. “It will work out,” I said, putting a reassuring hand on Valka’s shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

I wanted to believe what I was saying, but I was so scared for him. How could I imagine a life without him? He was everything to me, my world revolved around him… It was with a heavy heart that I waited for the end of the voyage home, so that I could finally come up with a plan to save him. Hang on, Hiccup.