#it's a fantasy world. and the boys were healed and they don't have to worry about their bodies while walking around

[where-dreamers-go]

*brain thinking about Eragon*

Hmmmm...

Not fun.

Uhh, how many times had someone had a scar, injury, or 'abnormal' feature healed?

In a fantasy world with magic, okay, but... Now it's easy. They had 'difficulties' for a short time.

Main ones I think of:

Eragon had his back fully healed and given eleven features with abilities.

Murtagh had no more scars. Galbatorix was a creep.

Roran had his back pieced back together. (With arguments taking place after his punishment.)

The baby has her lip filled out so she could eat, but I'm pretty sure they were talking about her future looks. But Eragon learned more about the Ancient Language and how elves sing things into changing.

Yet, Elva was forever changed. But Eragon learned that words were important. And he feels responsible now.

And Eragon chose to make his knuckles similar to what dwarves could do to weaponize their first. ...he was camping/traveling with Arya.

Am I thinking too much into this? Why do some things seem easy for some characters after all the build up? This difficult, but OH look, not so bad. It's all fine now when it counts so you don't lose and have a better chance.

But, it's after someone suddenly was given something or OH surprise, this can happen.

Oh well, I guess?

[agnesthecartoonfreak]

Problematic teen König

⚠️Teen F!reader x Teen König.

(+16, slight smut, cozy, loving, roomates,

Part 2: unexpected maternity

Part1 :https://www.tumblr.com/agnesthecartoonfreak/740399153315774464/problematic-teenager-k%C3%B6nig?source=share

A/N : Calm down it's not what it looks. I'm not insane you'll see

Problematic teenage König is feeding his childhood dreams of marrying you again

Living with you always made his heart skip.

You are quiet like him. Not unconfortable quiet. But more soft low voices in the morning with a cup of tea while there is a storm outside type of quiet.

Good quiet.

Happy quiet.

Peace quiet

A type of quiet that könig never had access to as a kid in a broken household. You heal him. Makes him get used to this domestic life. Like he deserves it

It gives him the chills to know how much of him you saw. Parts of him he did not want anybody to know. The insecure, scared and jealous little boy you once knew. Now with a thicc shell of pure endurance.

But your sweetness still manages to crack his shell open. He is scared. Whenever he tries to keep a safe distance you draw him in back again with his favorite meals, a warm hug and a nice conversation. König always thought you were a good cook because of how warm and gentle you are. Almost... maternal

König almost spils his coffe with that thought

He blushes and closes his eyes.

He can almost see you as his wife and pregnant with his child. His little Venus. His little world.

You would look stunning as you always did. But you would carry a promise with you. The promise of a peaceful happy life. He does not expects perfection. He knows no marriage is perfect. But a gentle, soft and living one. The type of relationship that would make him crawl back home to you no matter what happend to him while he was serving in the army as he planned.

-König! - Little fingers snapping in front of his face brings him back to the present

Little Venus wants his answer

" Vwhat?" könig answers spitting a bit of accent

You giggle

"Do you hear this?" you put your hand in your ear like a shell to hear it better

König stays silent for a moment looking for the unknown sound

" Katze?"he mumbles

"What? Cat? KITTY!!?"

you live with him long enough to know some words in german yourself

You run towards the sound it the first floor

König follows you worried

"Schatz! It could bite you! You don't know if it has rabies"

She wraps the baby kitty half asleep in a old blanket. It bearly fights. The lil kitty looks exausted. Probably running from the rain

König follows right behind you as you take care of the poor kitty. Gives it a little bath warps him in a towel. Afterwards making him a cozy little kitty bed

He is amuses by the scene. Did the universe decided to give him a taste of his future? Is it a sign that it will actually happen? Anyhow he needs to show you that he can be a good dad

He is determined

You two sit down playing with the kitty. You both are talking about possible names. Little Venus points out that he looks like him. He brushes it off

"I know his name!"

"Which one is it?" König stares at you curiously

" Prinz! Cause he is your son! As in König's son!"

You hold baby prinz as if he was Simba from lion king

König turns completely red

"Am I the father?" He asks in a whisper

You can see he does think he deserves it

"Yes!! And I'm the mom!" A innocent smile spreads across your face

Do you have any idea the types of dirty fantasies that could cause him. Making love to you raw like the world is gonna end the next day and nothing else matters anymore. Just this primal urge to be yours

He hugs you suddently. You hug him back

"You think I'm gonna be a good dad someday?"

His voice is shaky. Like he was offered redemption from being a broken boy

"Of course." you stroke his hair giving him the confort of your touch

There is this silent moment. Where you, König and Prinz slowly cuddle in the couch and fall asleep

König dreams of this life.

With you

For ever...

[treeofnonsense]

INFODUMP TIME: SINF EDITION

i'm aorry

SO. This is a series of 6 books that I affectionately call the Modern Fantasy Mythological and Historical Real Person Fiction series. And it's accurate. Very accurate.

I'm emo about it every day and I once scared kya by reblogging something from his nlog onto my sinf sideblog and he didn't know it was me. It's such a batshit crazy book I read a lot of batshit books, okay.

But one of the things about it is that people use magic by using their auras, something many folks irl have heard about. Auras and vibes and energies and such. In SINF you have a finite amount of aura you can use before doing magic consumes your physical body instead. Depleting your aura is BAD. You need to rest if you do, or if you get severely injured because your aura automatically tries to heal you regardless of if there's any aura to heal you with.

Auras come in a few different forms and MILLIONS of colors. They also have unique smells, and although you can technically change it, you have an original scent that is yours exclusively. (The bad guys in the series are extra as FUCK and make their auras smell like rotten meat and stuff. Drama queens.)

There are 3 auras that are the most powerful, but one type of aura trumps them all. Those three are Gold, Silver, and Black. Gold and silver are rare as fuck, and the twin teenaged Main Characters of the series have those colors naturally, and in the purest form. But we never quite hear about anyone who has a black aura, and the one time I recall it mentioned (it's been a while since I read them) it's just....implied. And then we NEVER hear about black auras again, despite apparently being a huge cog in the wheel that makes up the magic of this world.

HOWEVER. You know me. You know that if I have wiggle room, then I will ponder. And I don't just have wiggle room with the concept of black auras-- i have a fucking warehouse.

And so, middle school Marcel began to think-thonk. And I've been think-thonking for a decade now.

The legendary twin auras of pure gold and silver are representative of the Sun and the Moon in SINF. They literally ARE those things. Others can have (and have had) pure gold or silver, but they weren't as powerful because they were twins. They weren't the Sun and Moon. So it stands to reason that a black aura would have some celestial symbol as well, yeah?? But what? Now originally I assumed it might be an eclipse. But the black aura is an independent concept, unlike the Sun and Moon auras which depend on each other to keep balance across the multiverse (yes there's a multiverse in SINF. Don't worry about it.) So now what?? What is something in astronomy that is associated with darkness and doesn't necessarily have something else to balance it?

That's right. A black hole.

How would that work, you may ask? How does an aura, which already consumes itself and then its bearer even when it's normal, somehow function efficiently when it mimics a fucking BLACK HOLE. Well boy do I have the answer for you 🫵🏼

It lays dormant, but when ignited, can only take energy from auras around it. This bitch will consume SOMEBODY ELSE in order to power itself. And it's hungry.

What does a black aura look like?? Uh well. I actually headcanon that it's colorless. Invisible, even, except for a faint disruption around its bearer, much like how stuff bends around an actual black hole. Auras can only be used when someone is Awakened, but black auras can Awaken someone nearby who previously was not, just to start sucking up their aura juice for magical purposes.

Really eldritch of me, I think. I definitely have an OC with a black aura and she's everything to me.

I love how middle-schoolcel took the most edgelord of books and made the most edgelord of OCs out of it. Fantastic. Glorious. Sometimes you just need to satiate the inner teenager.

The idea of auras being the source of power is actually really interesting, to be honest. But having the main characters be extra special gold and silver aura teenagers and the bad guys smell like rotten meat and there's an extra-special black aura we never hear about is also hilarious.

[storytimewithnova]

I KNOW HIM SO WELL ONE SHOT

Shona:🎶Nothing is so good it last eternally Perfect situations must go wrong But this has never yet prevented me Wanting far too much for far too long Looking back I could have played it differently🎶

Don't get shona wrong she misses him and she still loves him but nothing good last forever, eventually, with everything wonderful in life it must come to an End that even means love. She wants so much out of life and has so many expectations for such a long time

Shona:🎶Won a few more moments Who can tell? But it took time to understand the man Now at least I know I know him well🎶

She wanted away to see Kuguiri she wants him back and it took time for understand him and what he wanted and what I wanted are two diffrent things

Shona:🎶Wasn't it good? oh So good! Wasn't he fine? oh So fine! Isn't it madness He can't be mine?🎶

Shona's POV

He can't be mine anymore he moved on sadly and he was so good and so fine and he was mine bht now he is not he is Shibayama's so take care of him Yuki

Shona: 🎶But in the end he needs a little bit more than me More security He needs his fantasy and freedom. I know him so well🎶

Shona's POV

He needs more than me he needs more love and security and it appears i can't give him that anymore and he has and needs his fantasy and freedom from me so i am setting him free

Shona:🎶No one in your life is with you constantly No one is completely on your side And though I move my world to be with him Still the gap between us is too wide Looking back I could have played it differently Learned about the man before I fell But I was ever so much younger then Now at least I know I know him well🎶

Shona's POV

I would move my world my life my everything if i could be with him again but the gap between us is to wide that is when i learnt no one is in your life constantly or by your side forever it is time to move on

Shona:🎶Wasn't it good? oh So good! Wasn't he fine? oh So fine! Isn't it madness He won't be mine?🎶

In real life at the training sho watched from the corner of the gym as Kuguiri and Shibayama were laughing and giving just little kisses and cuddling she watched in sadness

Shona:🎶Didn't I know how it would go if I knew from the start Why am I falling apart? Wasn't it good? Wasn't he fine? Isn't it madness He won't be mine But in the end he needs a little bit more than me More security... He needs his fantasy and freedom (I know him so well...) It took time to understand him. I know him so well...🎶

She sighed at walked away her brothers watched with worry as their little sister walked away Keiji and Hajime didn't know what to do or how to help her all the twins could do was go and confort their princess they even called their older brother and he came and got her Seijiro was also worried about their princess

Seijiro: princess you know there is someone for you right Kuguiri's lost is someone else's gain

Kise showed up and hugged her from behind and said

Kise:Akashi san is right Sunflower

Kise's thoughts💭 look at me sunflower i like you when are you wasting your time with that boy

Kise and Seijiro took shona back home Kise said he wants to say by shona and help her, her big brother didn't object and allowed him and let Kise stay with her the twins entered looking at their older brother looking worried

Keiji: Oni chan how is princess

Hajime: yeah Seiji Ni chan how is princess

Seijiro: cried herself to sleep Kise is with her and i think he likes her and i am hoping he can heal her

The twins : us too Onii chan/Seiji Ni chan

Keiji: well while princess is asleep i guess i am going to make dinner find out if Kise chan is staying so i know to make extra

Seijiro: I'll go i can wake princess up

X X X X X X X X X X X Time skip 3 months later Kise decided it was time to confess to Shona and make it offical with her

Kise: Sunflower I have known you since we were kids i have loved you since we were kids I feel like you have kept me waiting since we were with that being said i want to ask you Sunflower will you be my girlfriend

Shona: of course Kise sorry i have kept you waiting i guess i have beem so hung up on Kuguiri that I kept you Hanging you know what it's time to offically let go of Kuguiri

Kise: what is your plan Sunflower

In the Chaotic Friends GC

Shona: besties come on a observe

Everyone is online

🎶Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly🎶

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Kuguiri's thoughts💭Shona what are you saying

Shona:🎶Time goes by so slowly for those who wait No time to hesitate Those who run seem to have all the fun I'm caught up, I don't know what to do🎶

Rintaro: oh i see what's going on

Haijime: Imōto wait are you?

Kise: yes yes she is

🎶Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly I don't know what to do🎶

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Kuguiri's thoughts💭 is she giving up on me but i haven't told her my true feelings

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Keiji: Oni chan what is sis doing

Seijiro: i will tell you offline

Shona:🎶Ring, ring, ring goes the telephone The lights are on but there's no one home Tick, tick tock it's a quarter to two And I'm done, I'm hanging up on you🎶

Kuguiri's thoughts💭 NO NO NO she is giving up on me please not yet Sho please

Shona:🎶I can't keep on waiting for you I know that you're still hesitating Don't cry for me, 'cause I'll find my way You'll wake up one day But it'll be too late🎶

Shona's thoughts💭 who are we kidding it is already to late i am with my soulmate

Shona:🎶 Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

The Chaotic friend group are still confused what is going on that included Shibayama he was with Kuguiri at the moment and saw the upset and hurt on his face but didn't understand why

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

While she was typing this Kise was hugging her and kissing her to keep her clam and she couldn't be more thankful for that

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Hajime:it hurt seeing you cry yourself to sleep all these months we were worried a out you sis you refused to eat or come out your room unless Kise forced you

Kuguiri's thoughts💭i did that to her

Shona:🎶Every little thing, every little thing I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, waiting for your call I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

🎶Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly Time goes by so slowly🎶

Kise:🎶So slowly, so slowly So slowly, so slowly So slowly, so slowly🎶

The twins:🎶So slowly, so slowly So slowly, so slowly So slowly, so slowly So slowly, (so slowly)🎶

Shona:🎶I don't know what to do Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Kenma: can we ask if you are done what that was about

Kise: she is almost done then we will tell

Kenma: okay

Shona:🎶Every little thing that you say or do I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, baby, night and day I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

🎶Every little thing, every little thing I'm hung up I'm hung up on you Waiting for your call, waiting for your call I'm fed up I'm tired of waiting on you🎶

Kise: okay you may ask

Kenma: as i asked what ask that about?

Shona: I dated Kuguiri he left me with no explanation for Shibayama and apart me still wanted him back i always cried myself to sleep and refuse to eat unless Kise forced me and Oni chan said but this is basically me saying i am waiting on him to come back to me i am fed up of being hung up and i am letting him go to Shibayama

Kuguiri: Shona please don't give up on me yet

Shona: to late Nao you moved on so did I what nursing my broken heart someone was there piecing it back together someone i have kept waiting since we were kids

Kuguiri:Who?

Kise: Me I now have my Sunflower you hurt her bad it took ages for her to open her heart to me

Kuguiri can't defend himself and said

Kuguiri: I will let her go and hope she can forgive me and i work on regaining her trust and her friendship

Shona went offline awhile ago she fell asleep

Years passed and Kuguiri worked to regain her trust and friendship but it wasn't like it was before and she was happy with Kise he proposed to her on her Graduation day before they enter college together she joined the same college as her fiance and became manager for his time and the GOM reunited and started playing again in college her and Momoi joined forces to keep the boys in check she was happy and enjoying her life ith the Generation of miracles her older brother Seijiro even Proposed to Tetsuya and she couldn't help but tease him even the twin proposed to there significant other Akaashi to Ennoshita and Hajime to Matsunkawa and Kuguiri proposed to Shibayama so all is well that ends well at the end of the day

[iisatherapist]

Entry 2: Libidinal? Freud's your mother!

Ok, so I wanted to write about this. Mostly cause I think there are some thoughts here that I want to process but at the same time I think I'm ashamed to pen them down. Or at least def ashamed to share them with anyone. BUT I WANT TO!

Idk if this should be in this blog, or if I should put it in my personal one. Idk. We'll see. Hopefully future me won't share it with anyone.

Ok, so today I want to talk about my first patient with libidinal transference.

When I first started at the clinic in 2021, I was assigned a male patient who was my age. In fact a little older. And with all the issues I have had/been having in my love life I was worried I would be attracted to him/he me. But I think with the way things were. Super professional, both adults, it wasn't even close to an issue. The closest we got to something strange was him saying "I want to date a girl with brown hair who is tall like 5'8" and I was like haha ok that's it.

Well it's not it lol. Maybe this is the thing working with adolescent boys, maybe a thing working with Afghan adolescent boys. But I have a client at the IRC that has a crush on me. I think I struggled to admit it to begin with cause it's weird. But also I think a small part of me was kinda... happy? Idk I know it's weird and I feel pulled to be like I'm not a pedophile. But am I? Idk I don't think so. I checked the DSM. It isn't that I am attracted to him, though he is a cute boy (gosh lol why am I saying this) but like in a if I was 10 years younger I could see it (him being cute I mean). Or a "I'm sure all the girls have a crush on you" kinda way. He's very shy. and I am obviously a woman who takes care of him and talks to him about intimate things. It's like dear zindagi. He is also from a conservative culture where you don't have such close relationships with people of the opposite gender.

Idk. But yeah it's kinda strange to me to talk about. To be a "sexual object" as Monica said. To be an adolescent boy's fantasy oh god that is so strange to type. But also I mean I know he's so correct and I know he wouldn't DO anything. But yeah.

Idk a part of me is flattered I guess that's what it is. With all my issues I'm glad someone has a crush on me? Lol idk. Or maybe this is healing my inner child. It is just weird to think about counter transference I suppose. Or maybe it's the fact I never actually thought I'd get here.

It's interesting how connection can feel? Maybe I'm intellectualizing. But I felt it with a previous patient too. He was so pretty. That one was 18 though lol. But it wasn't in again "erotic" way. Just in a idk. The thing is as I write about this, I think about how there is this maternal feeling that comes up too. Like I want to take care of you, I want to make you soup, tell you everything is going to be ok and we'll get through it. Like for both of them. Like I want/can feel that thing of being a teen boy mom, where it's like you're kinda in love with your son. You know? Like a my son is the most handsomest boy in the entire world. But also like he's my son lol. Idk what that means for me.

It's really this intersection. I wonder if other mothers feel it. LOL "other mothers." Can't even get a date and I'm a mom. Maybe lol. Idk what I was gonna say- oh wait yes, maybe Freud was onto something.

Anyway today "my son" when confronted with why he was being so informal with me (using the informal you) said I changed the way I was acting lol. I was being frank with him, he said "like a friend not like a doctor" I was acting like a friend. Earlier I was so serious and now I'm not. Lol typical projection. But he was so laughy. It was cute. Idk like I said I don't hate being crushed on. Like more for my person diary maybe about how I don't like it for others. But also Monica keeps saying "ofc he has a crush on you you're beautiful" and I'm like oh god Monica lmao.

Anyway, he's upset I'm leaving, and he got informal after that, possibly cause I am leaving- did the whole "tussi ja rahe ho, tussi na jao" thing very cute, very sweet. Again, I like being the teacher that is crushed on, makes me feel cool and hype. And yeah I want to look attractive, not for 15 year old boys lol but just in general. It's been interesting to keep this all in my head lol. But I think I got a bit of clarity.

It's nice to be the teacher the kids have a crush on. And it's interesting to be a teen boy mom.

Attachment is so interesting is it not?

Anyway, all for now.

5/26/23

[binart]

BINA WHAT??? YOU HAVE OCS?????? TELL ME MORE I LOVE OC CONTENT (Klance will forever feed me BUT-) THEY LOOK SO CUTE WHO. ARE. THEY.

😳😳😳

.....YOU WOULD KNOW MORE OF MY BOY.......?? TRULY????

OH!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH HAPPY DAYS YES!!!!!!!! I TOO SUBSIST ALMOST ENTIRELY OFF OF KLANCE, BUT OCs HAVE PROVEN TO BE QUITE A DELIGHT ALSO!!

FOR REFERENCE, HERE IS THE PATHETIC LITTLE MAN IN QUESTION:

wait i have too much to say, i have to put this under a readmore

OK!!!!!! THANK YOU!!!! i love him so much and i don't have many opportunities to talk about him, SO YOUR ASK IS APPRECIATED!!!

his name is E'li Leam (pronounced EE-lie Leem) and he's a Miqo'te from that MMO i really like FFXIV 🤩

Miqo'te are basically cat people (WHICH I MEAN. I GUESS I'M A FURRY NOW?? OK), and he's what's called a Seeker, AKA SUN CAT!! There's moon cat people too but don't worry about it.

Seekers have names that start with their tribe letter (26 in total, each one representing one letter of the alphabet), so for example Raha of the G tribe would be called G'raha. Only close friends and family can drop the tribe letter and call them their given name! Male seekers will also have either Tia or Nuhn after their names, with most being Tias! This is because Nuhns fuck like crazy and are the only ones who are allowed to LMFAO

LISTEN DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT

anyway E'li is your typical 32 year old shonen protagonist who woke up ~7 years ago with Retrograde Amnesia and was found in a giant forest by its resident magic rats

THESE FUCKIN THINGS. they're called moogles. if you've ever played a final fantasy game, you know these guys. ANYWAY they saw this random grown ass man with a GIANT SCABBED OVER HEAD WOUND who wouldn't respond to anything they said and were like "hey let's take care of him kupo, lol"

AND FOR MONTHS THEY LOOKED AFTER HIM. ate together. snoozed in cuddle puddles together. got fucked up on Kupo Nuts together. it was wild. they found him with a big ol explorer's backpack, and alongside a White Mage Soul Crytal (RARE AND PRICELESS ARTIFACT ALLOWING ITS OWNER TO ADEPTLY WIELD CURATIVE MAGICKS!!), they found a shitty harp inside with A NAME CARVED ON THE SIDE.........

THE NAME...?!? "Eli". there was a notch in the wood that MIGHT have been an apostrophe?? they're moogles though they don't really give a shit. SO THEY JUST START CALLING HIM E'LI.

Pronounced EE-Lie.

The correct pronunciation of E'li by Seeker standards is EH-Lie.

This incorrect pronunciation of his own name would routinely cause him significant embarrassment down the line.

anyway. They're fond of their weird little man, but after a few months the moogles are like, "hey if he's really good at healing magicks and we can't teach him how to read or write, maybe let's give him to the people in the Quarrymill. They'll take care of him." and so they deposited their Weird Son into the care of the people of the Quarrymill, who essentially hired him on as the resident healer in exchange for food/shelter/education because HOLY SHIT,

THIS GUY CAN HEAL!!!

you wander near him with an injury? BOOM he's there and suddenly ALL THAT AILS YE BE NO MORE!!

whatever life he lead prior to his severe head injury clearly included healing people. he also took to reading and writing extremely quickly, so it was assumed he was some kind of scholar?? Though he wasn't particularly fond of speaking, and learned Eorzean Sign Language because VOCALIZATIONS WERE WEIRD AND BAD.

so this guy spends like half a year there. DEVOURING BOOKS. Learning of the World At Large. Starts longing to see the rest of it.. the Quarrymill residents are hesitant to let their Weird Little Man go, but accept it & tell him he must call himself E'li Tia to all who ask.

(In his mind Tia and Nuhn both sound incredibly stupid, so he decides his surname will be Leam A.K.A LEAF ---> BUT ONE LETTER CHANGED. ((he was looking at a tree when he decided this, and it would ALSO cause him no end of embarrassment down the line)))

SUDDENLY, GOD (A SENTIENT CRYSTAL IN THE CENTER OF THE PLANET) REACHES OUT TO HIM AND IS LIKE HI. LISTEN GO OUT THERE AND SAVE THE WORLD.

E'li is like o..k... and starts his journey to become an Adventurer.....

and then gets to a place called Limsa Lominsa which SCARES THE SHIT OUT OF HIM, THEN IMMEDIATELY GOES BACK TO THE GIANT FOREST PLACE AND DOESN'T LEAVE.

GOD CRYSTAL actually told a DIFFERENT set of people to go save the world like FIVE YEARS AGO, and a bunch of stuff happened but TLDR; GOD CRYSTAL'S GROUP OF CHOSEN HEROS WHO ONCE TRIED TO SAVE THE REALM BUT WERE SPIRITED AWAY...!!!

find the strange little healing cat man one day during their adventures. their leader, Meteor (!!!!!! YES MR MAIN CHARACTER GUY HIMSELF), looks at him and this is how their meeting went:

and SO BEGAN THE JOURNEY OF THESE FIVE WARRIORS OF LIGHT, WHO WOULD GO ON TO SAVE THE REALM FROM MANY DIRE THREATS...

THEN METEOR DIES, E'LI THREATENS TO KILL THE OTHERS ON SIGHT FOR LETTING THEIR LEADER DIE, BANISHES THEM FROM THE SCIONS OF THE SEVENTH DAWN (a group of characters who like.. do good stuff For The Realm and all that), AND PROCEEDS TO SPEEDRUN PTSD AS THE NOW SOLE WARRIOR OF LIGHT

buncha stuff happens... E'li goes to War, does PTSD: The Again, GETS ISEKAI'D and does Saving the World: 2 but THIS time his best friend he made just before the God Crystal Group disbanded shows up and is like "I'M GOING TO DIE FOR YOU!" and he's like "???? I'M LITERALLY INSANE CAN YOU PLEASE NOT MAKE IT WORSE"

buncha OTHER stuff happens...

and currently him and his Best Friend (he didn't actually die) are now life partners who just want to go on adventures and take naps together.

BY THE WAY, HE DOESN'T ACTUALLY HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA IN THE CONVENTIONAL SENSE. GOD CRYSTAL ACTUALLY JUST YOINKED A 1500 YEAR OLD SOUL FROM THE AETHERIAL SEA (THE AFTERLIFE BUT IT'S REAL, AND IS INSIDE THE PLANET), MADE A COPY OF METEOR'S BODY, MADE IT A CAT MAN, SHOVED THE SOUL IN IT, THEN SHUNTED IT BACK UNTO THE MORTAL COIL TO GO FIGHT FOR HER. HE LANDED HEAD FIRST ONTO A FUCKIN ROCK AND SHE WAS LIKE "OOF, MY B. ANYWAY I'LL BE IN TOUCH"

when he realizes this, E'li decides he is not fond of god crystal.

AND SO THAT IS THE GIST OF MY LITTLE BLORBO. my pathetic little man. my sweet cheese, my rotten soldier etc etc. HE'S KIND OF A FREAK and i absolutely adore him.

i will continue to chronicle all the little problems i give him, desperate for anyone who will look my way and be like "oh yeah, pretty cool"........... and i thank you for reading LMFAO

[writingstarmage]

What classes would Team Bucci be if they were playing Final Fantasy XIV?

After much staring at the screen and this question, I've come to these conclusions:

Under a read more for length.

Bruno Bucciarati: Reaper. Hear me out that teleporting ability? Pretty nifty, don'tcha think? He does not main the class until he completely levels up his healer classes. Let's be real Sticky Fingers allows him control over liminal spaces.

Personality wise, this guy's a healer class in any MMO if he is dragged into it by the younger boys in the group. While he initially starts as a scholar and white mage, he found a liking towards Astrologian and later Sage.

Bruno to me is very organized, and is methodical in approaches, I think this is why he scouted Fugo in the first place. Healers need this to switch between DPS (damage) and healing. He is also able to pay careful attention to various enemy phases and can call them out.

I can very well see him and Giorno teaming up and figuring out a best combination for the healers in a raid party.

Guido Mista: Machinist. Was pissed there was only Archer/Bard. That is until someone stated that Bards fuck everything in DnD. He enjoyed it, but he and his Sex Pistols wanted something with a gun.

When Machinist came out, that is the class Mista gravitated to and kept. He bitched when Machinist was nerfed, and switched over to Archer/Bard temporarily. However, his first love is Machinist.

When Dancer came out though, he bit the bullet and tried it. While it was not him per say, he enjoyed the rotations and the dance partner aspect.

If he is tanking, he leveled Gunbreaker. Dude, this guy can tank when he puts his mind to it. He had to when Giorno and him were getting the disk.

I have not played Gunbreaker yet, so I cannot give you the ins and outs yet for that class.

Giorno: Astrologian, Scholar or White Mage. The dude is a healer. He played Sage, and really thought Bruno would be better at it. In PvP with Diavolo, he chose Astrologian against Diavolo's Astrologian. He once called out "The World" in one instance.

When Bruno is not around, he calls out the phases for the raid.

The poor boy gets worried when everyone takes a hard hit.

Leone Abbacchio: The guy's a Monk or a Dark Knight when he wants to tank. Don't get me started on Goth King, please.

He played Marauder/Warrior until Dark Knight was added.

When Bruno is not around, he is the one to call if you need a Reaper main.

He was dragged to play too with some help from Bruno. One look that meant "If I have to, you have to, too."

Narancia: Rogue/Ninja. Don't ask me why, I just think he'd be nifty at this class and job.

Fugo: Arcanist/Summoner or Scholar. He complains about his summon.

The team thinks he would get better at controlling Purple Haze, if he likens it to being Summoner or Scholar.

Sad when Summoner was nerfed, until well ... latest expansion.

Trish: Paladin/Gladiator. She is a tough girl when given the chance, and I'm sure the team can bond with her while playing FFXIV.

She likes how easily and quickly the queue for dungeons and raids go when she is a tank.

Has not played a MMO before.

Tanking allows her to take her anger and frustrations out.

[whumpwriterforlife]

I love your writing! You write Nyx(and Cor & Crowe) so well! I don't know if it's alright to send in more requests, so feel free to ignore this, but I would like to request forced to kneel with Nyx. Please continue to share your writing as you like, it never fails to brighten my day!

It's most definitely alright to send more requests, don't worry! Here you go, forced to kneel with some badass Nyx. Thank you for your continued support and interest in my writing, it means a lot to me <3

BTHB - Forced to Kneel

Those crossed in blue have been done, pink ones have been requested.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Nyx Ulric, Crowe Altius & Cor Leonis (with mentioned Libertus Ostium)

Whumpee: Nyx Ulric

Word Count: 1749

Warnings: None

Can be found on ao3 here

--

“Down on your knees!”

Nyx rolled his eyes and made no move to comply as he stood there, surrounded by a handful of armed men. He flipped one of his kukris, studying the blade for a moment before sliding it back into its sheath. The other was still in his grip, ready for action. Nyx shook his head and looked at the man in charge. “And why would I do that?”

The man scoffed, something dark and dangerous flashing across his face. Nyx frowned. There was a condescending tone to his voice as he spoke, “You’re not a very wise man, are you, Glaive Ulric?”

“Wise enough to make it past your security without being detected.” Nyx shrugged. He didn’t let the fact that the man knew his name phase him. It was a poor intimidation tactic as far as he was concerned, considering he had had his name and face plastered on news — against his wishes — on numerous occasions because apparently he was the poster boy for the Kingsglaive, regardless of his stance on the matter.

“Yet foolish enough to come without any backup,” the man pointed out as he slowly sauntered closer. A brave move for a man who was noticeably smaller than Nyx and clearly not a fighter. Then again, he had two armed men flanking him, one on each side. “Did you really think it was going to be that easy to get through my men and free your friends?”

“Did you really think that,” Nyx paused to glance around the hall, “five men, plus yourself, would be enough to stop me? You know my name, you know what I’m capable of.”

He didn’t even wait for his words to sink in before he threw his kukri and warped. He landed in front of one of the underlings and struck him to the temple, knocking him out. He could kill them, it wouldn’t take much, but the men could be interrogated and used to bring the whole organization down. Nyx also detested needless bloodshed. Underling Two tried to come at him with a knife but Nyx moved out of the way and disarmed him with a twist to the wrist. Panic flashed across the underling’s face as Nyx hooked his hand behind his neck and threw him against the wall.

Two down for the count, four to go.

A gunshot echoed in the hall, and Nyx grunted as he felt something rip through his side. His kukri slipped out of his grasp, clattering across the floor, as his hand dropped to his side. His hand came back red with blood. Nyx hissed but there was no time for him to worry about it as underlings Three and Four charged at him. Underling Three had a stun gun in his hands and Nyx could hear the nasty crackling sound coming from it as it came alive. He ducked under Three’s arm, wincing as his side protested, and grabbed him by the wrist. Underling Four didn’t realize Nyx’s plan until it was too late and he was writhing on the ground as the electricity coursed through his body.

Underling Three cursed and twisted in Nyx’s grasp. The stun gun fell to the floor but Three managed to break free and shove Nyx back. Nyx stumbled a bit, Then underling five was on him, throwing punches at him. The first couple Nyx managed to block just fine but then one got past his defenses and landed right above his injured side. A strangled noise ripped out of Nyx’s throat as he instinctively curled around the wound protectively. It gave Three and Five enough time to grab his arms and force him down to his knees.

“Stay down!” one of the underlings ordered.

Nyx hissed, baring his teeth, as his knees hit the floor and pain reverberated through his body. His chest heaved up and down, breathless, as he tried to push past the white-hot pain. He still had a job to do. A hand snuck into his hair and wrenched his head back as the man in charge came to a stop before them.

“Well,” the man began, his face twisting into a smile that looked all kinds of wrong, “It would appear that, yes, five of my men were enough to bring you down.”

Nyx bristled at smug words. “Good for you.”

The man glanced at the two underlings that were holding him down and brushed them off. “You needn't hold him down, just stand guard. I have a feeling he won’t be trying anything again.”

Nyx’s eyes narrowed, and he could feel the hesitancy in the two underlings as well as they let him go. This man was either extremely brave or stupid, possibly both. Nyx lowered one of his hands over the wound on his side to apply pressure. He had fought in worse condition. It would hurt like a bitch to keep going but Nyx wasn’t one to just give up. “Why is that?”

Behind the man, a door opened and a handful of new underlings piled into the room. Nyx rolled his eyes but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. The man had called backup then. The plan was coming along nicely. That didn’t mean Nyx didn’t think the man wasn’t stupid — he most definitely was.

The man looked down at Nyx with an unreadable expression. “I find it curious that the Crown could only spare one single man for this rescue mission. Of course, there’s been rumors about how some important people find the members of the Kingsglaive more expendable, but I couldn’t bring myself to quite believe that. Intriguing.”

Nyx shrugged. “Are you sure I came here alone?”

The man frowned at him, a calculating look on his face. Nyx just flashed him one of his more charming smiles. The man’s eyes narrowed and he turned on his heels to look at the newcomers. Nyx could see him tense as he shouted, “Who’s guarding the glaives?”

“Rendell, Sir,” someone responded.

The man dug out his phone and tapped furiously on it before bringing the phone to his ear. Nyx just watched him, his smile never wavering. A minute passed. The man didn’t get a response. The phone cracked against the floor as the man threw it with a frustrated growl. His eyes were filled with fury as he locked eyes with Nyx.

“What did you do?” he snarled, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“Me?” Nyx asked innocently. “Nothing. Well, I did bypass your security, get here and knock out a few of your guys but you already knew that much. Now I’m kind of… well, bleeding all over your floor. Sorry about that.”

The man stormed over to Nyx and pushed him down with a foot to the chest. Nyx winced and gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out as his side was jarred.

“Don’t expect me to believe that. Something is going on, and you know exactly what it is,” the man told him in a low, icy tone. His foot moved down on Nyx’s chest and over the hand he was using to apply pressure on the wound. Nyx stiffened, a sharp curse leaving his lips as the man put more weight on the wound. “Tell me, and I won’t make you suffer.”

Nyx laughed but it came out strained. “Did you ever consider— that maybe I’m not the rescue party,” he said and groaned when the man’s foot shifted. He still smirked though, despite the pain. “That maybe, instead, I’m the decoy.”

The man’s face twisted with fury but before he could do anything, Nyx had summoned a knife from the armiger and thrown it across the room to warp. The room burst with activity and noise, the doors on both sides of the hall flung open as other glaives rushed in. Nyx faltered as he landed from the warp, sinking down onto his hands and knees. He lowered one of his hands back over the wound and hissed. Getting shot sucked big time.

There was a crackle of magic next to him and Crowe appeared next to him. There was a deep frown on her face as she took in the way he was holding his side. She muttered something about idiots under her breath as she moved Nyx’s hand aside to inspect the wound.

“Dammit, we need to get you to the medics, now,” she told him. She pulled Nyx’s arm over her shoulder to help him stand up. “I don’t have any potions left.

Nyx groaned, leaning heavily on Crowe. Despite being smaller than him, Crowe was strong and supported him with little trouble. Nyx licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Did they- the others, they okay?”

“Yes, they’re all fine. Some were a bit roughed up but nothing a few days’ rest won’t heal,” Crowe said as they started walking. “You, once again, are somehow in the worst shape. You fought them, didn’t you? When you were explicitly told not to.”

“Bah,” Nyx muttered, “The situation called for it. Can you- I think I left one of my kukris there.”

“I’ll have someone get them,” Crowe promised. “Then I’ll call Cor and let him know you were being an idiot.”

Nyx rolled his eyes but regretted it as the world spun in his eyes. “You two… mother hens.”

“You should make that three, I think Lib is waiting outside,” Crowe told him and Nyx could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Of course he is,” Nyx scoffed but then his voice softened. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A few minutes later Crowe left Nyx with the medics and stepped aside to go through with his threat to call Cor. Nyx grumbled about it, telling her to wait until he was in the hospital and already taken care of but she wasn’t having any of it. So, in the end, Cor was waiting for Nyx at the hospital when the ambulance got there. The doctors wanted to keep him there for a while as they needed to dig out the bullet before they could use any curatives on it. Cor never once left his side. It was nice and made Nyx feel all warm and fuzzy which is what he told Cor, in his special high-on-painkillers way that was mostly incoherent mush. Cor just laughed and subtly recorded it to send to the group chat that had him, Crowe and Libertus in it.

[stories-that-feed-our-souls]

乔家的儿女 The Bond | Review

The last couple of years I totally changed my taste for dramas. Maybe because what's happening to the world right now, but I switched from loving slice of life dramas to only consuming wuxia and xianxia and all those kind of fantasy chinese stories, becoming completely unable to truly enjoy some more realistic stories, specially from China. But in the last couple of months, there's been a few production that really were able to catch my attention, one being "Crush", wich I already talked in another post, other being "The day of becoming you" even though I don't know if it fit in the "realistic" genre, but neither of them has amazed me more that the story of the Qiao family.

《乔家的儿女》 (lit. The children of the Qiao family) it's a 36 episodes chinese drama from 2021 based on the novel of the same name by Wei Xi (未夕). It follows the life of the Qiao family, from 1977 to 2006, when the eldest brother, Yicheng, being only a 11 years old, had to take the responsability of raising his younger sibling after their mother's death and the negligence of their father, who only cares about himself.

This review might contain some minor spoilers

Story

There's a few thing I want to talk about. For some people this kind of stories may be slow or "boring", but let me tell you there's nothing to worry about in that aspect. We get catch at the very beginning by this family's dynamic: a family where the mom has just died for giving birth to their 5th son, where the father thinks their children can fend for themselves, and the 4 children (and one newborn) that sometimes don't have too much to eat.

How can we not get attached or at least get concerned by these kids wellbeing? Seeing how an eleven years old boy had to raise his sibling, having to confront in multiple times his father to give them money to survive, and how later having to become their father figure, even when they were already all adults, make me really anxious but at the end of the day very pround of Yicheng.

The characters are very well wrtitten. The sibling have very distinct personalities: Yicheng the protector one, Erqian the sensitive one, Sanli the down to earth one, Simei the free spirit and Qiqi the shy one. The writters take those traids and they keep their characters loyals to them, but that doesn't mean there is no character development, quite the opposite, every one of them chages a lot during those 30 years, but in a way that's believable. The develompment is according to their expiriences, their traumas and archivements. Their development doesn't feel like is for the convenience of the plot.

They also provided us with down to earth relationships. In the real world, for most mortals, you don't meet your partners in an accident, or when meeting your childhood rival or any of those cliché scenes that are overly use in dramaland. Your partners end up being your classmate, your coworkers or the friend of your friend, and you built a relationship before falling over heels for that person and, even so, those relationships can fail. Mariage is not the end of the road. Different goals in life, family's relationship, affairs, and the memories of past lovers can ruin those relationships and this dramas show you that that is okay, and that you can heal, forgive and keep going on with your life.

Acting

What can I say? the cast was perfect. You really belive every line the actors and actress say... and sometimes they don't need to say nothing at all to get their emotions. Even the kids outshine some actors out there.

But for me, who undeniable shine is Song Zu'er, our little Qiao Simei. This girl truly expressed every single emotions. There is an scene in episode 29 you can pinpoit the second her hearts breaks in half yes I'm quoting Bart Simpson but it defenitly applies for that scene.

OST

The instrumentals for this production is on the softess side. The tracks never distract you from what happening in the scene and that is because all the emotions are well displayed by the actors, the music doesn't need to be on the spotlight.

Now, on the other hand, the songs. I was a little bit sceptical about the songs, in part 'cause it wasn't a genre I was used to, they needed to work for a story that covers 3 decades, but a few episodes in and I was in love with some of them, specially Wild Bird 《野鸟》 by A RUN 金润吉 and Blank 《留白》 by Juno Su 苏诗丁. It really hurts me that the last one is not on spotify because IT'S BEAUTIFUL.

Technical aspects

Can we appreciate attention to detail the production team put in this drama? Like I said, this story covers 30 years of the Qiao family and of course places like the main room in the Qiao house change... but it happens so gradually that you don't even notice at least is a very obvious change that the characters bring on, like buying a new TV or a new refrigerator, otherwise you are completly oblivious until the change in the room is too big to go unnoticed. Or the meals, you can see how their meals start to get better as the sibling start to work.

Is facinating to see the change in the city, the offices and the tecnology, specially the phones, how many memories were triggered by those ringtones!

Also, the color grade was so warm, giving us that nostalgic feeling that the whole production tries to make us feel, archiving it beautifuly.

Final thoughts

乔家的儿女 The Bond is a very realistic story with a very nostalgic feeling about the bond some sibling built over the years out of neccesity, but also out of love. We can see how they overcome difficulties with time and efforts, and how love and life is not always rosy, but is also not as bad as one tend to believe. We can heal and go on with our life no matter what.

Rating: 10/10

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme lines from "The Neverending Story" film

Why don't you do what you dream?

I have to keep my feet on the ground!

Call my name.

I will do what I dream!

Never give up and good luck will find you.

It's the emptiness that's left.

It's like a despair, destroying this world.

Whoever has the control... has the power!

It is all that remains of my vast empire.

There's no fool like an old fool!

Your books are safe. While you're reading them, you get to become Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe.

Weren't you afraid you couldn't escape?

But it's only a story.

It's the world of human fantasy.

I've read Treasure Island, The Last of the Mohicans, Wizard of Oz, Lord of the Rings, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Tarzan.

They wanted to throw me in the garbage.

Why don't you give them a good punch in the nose, hm?

How many wishes do I get?

Why is it so dark?

In the beginning, it is always dark.

If you come any closer, I will rip you to shreds.

You, whoever you are, can have the honor of being my last victim.

I will not die easily. I am a warrior!

That won't be too hard for him.

Kind people find out that they are cruel. Brave men discover that they are really cowards! Confronted by their true selves, most men run away screaming!

Allergic to youth.

Unicorns. They were unicorns.

What is he, a nutcase?

To the winch, wench!

He has suffered with you.

He went through everything you went through, and now he has come here with you.

He is very close, listening to every word, we say.

No, not again. No, not again!

I know books. I have 186 at home.

Oh, this is something special.

This book is not for you.

Only a human child can give her this name.

People have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams.

You're disturbing my scientific work!

Now it's my turn with him!

It's your turn when I say it's your turn!

It has to hurt if it's to heal.

Where is he? If he's so close, why doesn't he appear?

Just as he is sharing all your adventures, others are sharing his.

He has to give me a new name.

Our world will disappear - and so will I.

How could he let that happen?

He doesn't understand that he's the one who has the power to stop it.

He simply can't imagine that one little boy could be that important.

Is it really me?

If we're about to die anyway, I'd rather die fighting!

If you want to save our world, you must hurry!

You've already brought me the entire 10000 miles?

You don't move in scientific circles.

Ever heard of me?

Do you suppose the Ivory Tower is still standing?

It's not real, it's only a story!

He just doesn't have any confidence.

He's already chosen it. He just has to call it out.

Next time, let me see what happens. It's my telescope.

It's my scientific specialty.

You and your scientific work.

We can't wait for a snail.

Can I carry you?

Don't worry, it's a racing snail.

Nobody gives a hoot about me and my stupid bat.

They look like good, strong hands.

[sebastianshaw]

RP meme lines from "The Neverending Story" film

Why don't you do what you dream?

I have to keep my feet on the ground!

Call my name.

I will do what I dream!

Never give up and good luck will find you.

It's the emptiness that's left.

It's like a despair, destroying this world.

Whoever has the control... has the power!

It is all that remains of my vast empire.

There's no fool like an old fool!

Your books are safe. While you're reading them, you get to become Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe.

Weren't you afraid you couldn't escape?

But it's only a story.

It's the world of human fantasy.

I've read Treasure Island, The Last of the Mohicans, Wizard of Oz, Lord of the Rings, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Tarzan.

They wanted to throw me in the garbage.

Why don't you give them a good punch in the nose, hm?

How many wishes do I get?

Why is it so dark?

In the beginning, it is always dark.

If you come any closer, I will rip you to shreds.

You, whoever you are, can have the honor of being my last victim.

I will not die easily. I am a warrior!

That won't be too hard for him.

Kind people find out that they are cruel. Brave men discover that they are really cowards! Confronted by their true selves, most men run away screaming!

Allergic to youth.

Unicorns. They were unicorns.

What is he, a nutcase?

To the winch, wench!

He has suffered with you.

He went through everything you went through, and now he has come here with you.

He is very close, listening to every word, we say.

No, not again. No, not again!

I know books. I have 186 at home.

Oh, this is something special.

This book is not for you.

Only a human child can give her this name.

People have begun to lose their hopes and forget their dreams.

You're disturbing my scientific work!

Now it's my turn with him!

It's your turn when I say it's your turn!

It has to hurt if it's to heal.

Where is he? If he's so close, why doesn't he appear?

Just as he is sharing all your adventures, others are sharing his.

He has to give me a new name.

Our world will disappear - and so will I.

How could he let that happen?

He doesn't understand that he's the one who has the power to stop it.

He simply can't imagine that one little boy could be that important.

Is it really me?

If we're about to die anyway, I'd rather die fighting!

If you want to save our world, you must hurry!

You've already brought me the entire 10000 miles?

You don't move in scientific circles.

Ever heard of me?

Do you suppose the Ivory Tower is still standing?

It's not real, it's only a story!

He just doesn't have any confidence.

He's already chosen it. He just has to call it out.

Next time, let me see what happens. It's my telescope.

It's my scientific specialty.

You and your scientific work.

We can't wait for a snail.

Can I carry you?

Don't worry, it's a racing snail.

Nobody gives a hoot about me and my stupid bat.

They look like good, strong hands.

[lee-donghun]

Friends Don't

Fandom: hotel stars

Pairing: Neungkay

"They don't cancel other plans

Have conversations with nothing but their eyes

They don't hear each other's names and forget to concentrate

Hits a nerve and lights you up like dynamite

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night

Couldn't even tell you why

They just felt like saying "hi"

Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys

Finding reasons not to leave

Trying to hide the chemistry

Drive a little too slow, take the long way home

Get a little too close

We do, but friends don't

They don't almost say "I love you"

When they're downtown somewhere, just a little drunk

They don't talk about the future and put each other in it

And get chills with every accidental touch

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night

Couldn't even tell you why

They just felt like saying "hi"

Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys

Finding reasons not to leave

Trying to hide the chemistry

Drive a little too slow, take the long way home

Get a little too close

We do, but friends don't

I keep telling myself this might be nothing

But one look in your eyes and, God, there's something

You can lie to me and say you don't

But I know you do, and I love you too

Friends don't call you in the middle of the night

Couldn't even tell you why

They just felt like saying "hi"

Friends don't stand around, playing with their keys

Finding reasons not to leave

Trying to hide the chemistry

Drive a little too slow, take the long way home

Get a little too close

We do, but friends don't

Uh uh uh

Friends don't"

("Friend's Don't"- Maddie and Tae)

Kay supposed the timing of the song to come up on his playlist was the universe trying to tell him something. He couldn't even count how many times he listened to the song, wishing, hoping that the words would ring true; that Neung could actually like him back. He liked Neung for years, but the possibility of it being mutual has always just been a fantasy. Then suddenly, Neung leans in to kiss him. He should have been bursting with joy for he has always dreamed of that moment. Yet, he panicked and pushed him away. For this, he felt terrible. Neung wouldn't even look at him afterwards and his out in the bathroom.

He couldn't tell you why he panicked, truly. Realistically he knew that Neung would never do anything to hurt him. He wouldn't play a trick that cruel on him. Neung knew what he was doing, and it had no malicious intent. Yet, Kay still pushed him away.  He wished he could take it back because even if he was fooling himself- at least he would finally get a real kiss from him. Not an accidental one, not one from a game of "spin the bottle", not one from being under a mistletoe either, but a real kiss. He knew though, that he couldn't go back. He had to live with the fact that he lost his chance- and maybe even his best friend.

He didn't even why he was scared. As previously said, he knew that Neung wasn't cruel- not to him anymore. He also knew that their friendship had always been different. No else hand fed their friends, always had an arm around the other, smile at touches, nor do they get lost in their own little world together. Yet, the part of Kay that never let Kay make a real move was winning by telling him that 'all best friends are like that. Kay must have just never noticed it. Neung could never like him- or any guy for that matter. He's just confused"

Kay sighed as he tried to shake away his thoughts. He wanted to believe Neung liked him, he wanted it more than anything, but he couldn't.

Kay checked the time, and noted that it was past midnight already. How long had he been laying there? How long has it been since Neung left not only the bathroom, but the room as well?

Worriedly, Kay texted Neung.

Kay

Where are you??

It's late.

Read

Kay got no reply, which only worried him further. They have had arguments before that drove the other away for a night, but both have always made sure the other knew where to find them. Immediately, he knew that time wouldn't solve the problem. The boys needed to talk this out and fast. He couldn't risk losing Neung. Not now, and not ever.

Kay

Neung?

Please answer me.

We need to talk.

Read.

O

nce again, Neung did not reply. He texted several more times, but it was no avail. In fact, Neung stopped reading the messages all together after the second one. Still, Kay wouldn't let this be the last of it. All of Neung's things were here- including the uniform he needed for his shift tomorrow. So he knew that even if Neung avoided the break room, that the two would have to meet up at some point. Until then, Kay would just have to wait. Soon, they'd be laughing together again- they had to be.

Although, Kay did have an idea until then so he would at least know Neung was safe. He texted the others, asking if Neung was with any of them. Fortunately for Kay, Kin swiftly replied that Neung was in his and Pong's room. Kay did wonder how that would work with 2 beds and 3 people, but he rationalized that the beds were probably pushed together to allow for more space.

Kay pulled his covers over his eyes, as he tried to ignore the empty bee beside him. To the sound of his music though, he was eventually able to drift off to sleep- even if it was a fitful one.

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

For most of the day, Neung had successfully avoided Kay as excepted. However, at the end of the night, Kay had trapped Neung in the room. He had made sure none of the others allowed Neung to stay with them by explaining that it was crucial that him and Neung had a talk. Though no one knew what had expired between them, they understood what he was getting at. With nowhere to go, Neung was left to sleep in their shared room.

"Neung- you can't keep avoiding me!" Kay started as soon as Neung had settled on his bed.

"It's what's best Kay."

"No it isn't! What's best is us talking about what happened."

"It's too late for that. Besides, I'm doing you a favor by staying away."

"What do you mean? We're friends- friend's dont-"

"FRIEND'S DON'T HURT EACHOTHER!" Neung yelled, before continuing in a broken voice, "Friend's don't kiss their friends"

"Neung-"

"Friend's don't fall in love with the other."

Kay didn't bother replying. Instead, he went up to Neung before he could be stopped and he kissed him. Before he knew it, Neung was responded and both of their hands had started to move on their own accord. Kay didn't know how Neung was feeling, but he was in pure bliss.

'Neung was right about one thing' thought Kay, 'Friend's didn't kiss eachother, but mutual crushes did.'

Soon, both pulled away, panting slightly to retain their breaths.

"I'm sorry I pushed you away. I just- I panicked. I wanted to kiss you for real for song but I didn't think you felt the same."

"Of course I felt the same. I admit that I didn't realize my feelings until the program started, but I do feel the same. When you pushed me away though I thought-"

"I know Neung. I'm sorry for giving you the wrong idea."

"No- I'm the one that should be sorry. I should have talked about my feelings first- or at least asked before kissing you."

"Let's call it a draw, alright?"

"If you agree to be my boyfriend?"

"I thought you would never ask."

---------- END OF ONE-SHOT ------------

-to heal our hearts until Neung and Kay talk things through

-So I was going to not even have Kay push Neung away- but then I remembered that fluff is not my strong suit

-I wrote this all at once so expect errors

-Kin and Pong absolutely subconsciously clung to eachother in their sleep while Neung was there

-i can't dialogue so uh- pretend they not only sound like themselves but also like actual human beings

@stickers-on-a-laptop @petra-dragneel (I mentioned what happened in the episode I believe to you Pet)

[klimp42]

Final Fantasy 8: An Amazing Story Hidden Behind Weird Mechanics

So it should be said that there is one thing that I love and that is some good narrative in gaming. I love it, give me a game with a good narrative and at least decent gameplay and I am in there, and a good narrative doesn't mean oscar level writing because I love Deadly Premonition, a notoriously weird game, but a golden game in my heart. Its story is weird and unique and at times outright strange, but it's endearing and I love how wild the story gets as it goes on. Now why am I talking about this? Why it's because of my lovely new bad gameplay good narrative obsession, Final Fantasy 8. That's right, gamer boys and girls we are going back to another old game, and that's because I just played it, and the remastered just got announced at E3 this year.

Alright so if you know nothing about the Final Fantasy series, let alone the 8th installment, let me help you out. Final Fantasy is an old franchise, it started in 1987 and got its name because the original name Fighting Fantasy was taken by a board game in the states, the myth of it being called Final Fantasy because it was a last ditch effort to make a successful game is just that, a myth. The game is prolific, being one of the granddaddy's of the JRPG genre and helping bring that good ol fashion turn based combat system popular in tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons (D&D)  to videogames. Final Fantasy 1 is a classic of gaming and also is kind of like D&D, you have classes similar to the previously mentioned board game; Warrior, Monk, Thief, Paladin; with a few of its own unique classes; Red mage, Black mage and White mage. The games story was very simple, worlds ending, killing these fiends and go back in time and stop Chaos from doing this over again, also at some point the game explains that you are from another universe and that's why you just start outside the beginning kingdom, Final Fantasy stories like to be a little wild at times.

Like D&D you gained levels in this game by fighting monsters, getting stronger with each fight and eventually being strong enough to be able to face the final boss on even grounds, or maybe a little above them if you grind out yourself to max level. This system, if you are into the RPG genre, is incredibly rewarding as you get to see your team of lowly nothings evolve into masters of combat who can slay gods. The best part, to me at least, is going back to the starting area or an area that gave you trouble and stomping on those monsters who thought they were so cool 20 levels ago. Now in Final Fantasy series this system is in most of them, fight monsters, get exp, level up and your stats go up with it, the special cases are Final Fantasy 2,6,8 and 10, and of these the worst offenders of weird leveling are 2, 6 and 8. That's right, I said it, 6 has a weird leveling system with level not raising stats and needing summons equipped to level stats, I personally don't believe that it deserves its spot as one of the best Final Fantasys but that is an article for another time. I could explain why each is weird and 10 is fun and different in a good way, but forget all that and let's get into the focus of this piece, Final Fantasy 8.

Now even though it is my new obsession in good story bad gameplay, my fascination for this game goes way back to when I was a 3 year old with a pizza hut demo disc. Yeah you bet that was a thing, you would order a large pizza and it would come with a playstation demo disc that had a couple of games, but the only one that mattered to little old me was the demo for Final Fantasy 8, or that game with the guy with the cool sword and big water snake, as I was 3 and couldn't read that well. Seriously, if you have played a Final Fantasy game before you would know that you can use summons by clicking the tab they are in and then selecting the one you want, well ol kid me thought it was random as I was just picking things at random. So what I am saying is, I have always had a special place for this game in my heart, so there might be a bit of bias.

So I spent some time flip flopping over what I wanted to discuss and explain first, story or gameplay, on the one hand I wanted you to know what FF8 had to offer narratively, but on the other hand I feel I should let you guys know what you're getting into when you play this. So I decided to compliment sandwich this one, but like a subway compliment sandwich where the teenager who doesn't really want to work there barely tries to cut your bread so the top part is like really thin. So thin that what I am going to give you is this, FF8 is a great story of a young man learning to overcome his own weaknesses to understand that strength can be found in companions, listen I know that sounds cliche but I need more space to talk about the amazing character development and got to tell you about this bad gameplay.

So remember when I said that old Final Fantasy's had a nice leveling system based on fighting enemies, getting exp and raising stats? Throw it all out the window, because like I told you earlier FF8 is one of the weird ones. So for some reason FF8 has a whole system based around equipping "Guardian Forces" (summons) and then through this unlocking the ability to junction (equip) magic to your stats; like strength, magic, hp and the other classics; while also being able to junction magic to element and status attack and defense, allowing you to be able to either protect or do damage based on said elements and statuses. Now you might be thinking how does this work, because magic is usually used based on magic points (mp) well there is no mp in FF8. This is due to the narrative stating that it is very rare for people to do raw magic instead they need to draw magic from nature and creatures/people and use it that way. This means that in FF8 magic is a finite resource and instead of regaining mp you have to spend time drawing magic that is randomized to be either 2 or 12 magic, so it can take awhile. If this sounds a bit weird and confusing, don't worry it kind of is, there are tutorials to explain it, but man is it a weird system. So why is this all necessary? Well unlike other Final Fantasy's, in FF8 leveling raises your stats by the littlest amount, so to be able to do decent damage and also defend against it you need to junction magic. Also to make things even worse, leveling can be a problem as monsters level with you, so if an enemy is tough for you at level 20, raising your level to 30 won't help you as they will be doing more damage and have more health. The game does try to offset this by making it so if an enemy had fire to be drawn at lvl 10, at lvl 30 they would have fira to be drawn, which would make it so that you can junction a more powerful magic and do more damage. FF8 also gives you the option to just cast magic instead of drawing it from enemies, and can be useful since most bosses have healing magic to draw from them meaning you can go in without a huge stock of cure's.

Alright so we have a confusing system with a bad mechanic of monsters getting stronger with you as you level, is that all that is weird? Nope. So remember the guardian forces I mentioned earlier? Well they are necessary to be able to junction spells to stats and make your party stronger, but there are a limited number of them and that usually means only three of the six party members will have guardian forces so you can make a decent party for fighting. The problem is that the game likes to switch around who is playable a lot, and while it is fun and interesting in the narrative, it sucks gameplay wise. The game does make it easy by letting you be able to switch who has what guardian forces in a menu, but it gets tedious after the 15th time you have to do it and especially when the game switches between two perspectives like 4 times in 30 minutes. Also sometimes you have dream sequences where you play as another team and when you come back to your main party everyone but Squall, the main character, has everything unequipped, so you have to go back and re-junction everything and it's just a waste of time. Listen I could keep going on the weird aspects of this game, but I don't want it to take up this whole article and we got cool card games to talk about.

FF8 does a lot of things in a weird and bad way, but that doesn't mean it doesn't do things really really right, and thats with Triple Triad baby! Triple Triad is the super fun card game that exist within FF8, a game so good that you can also play it in FF14. The game is easy to get into and can get pretty hard with each area of the game map have unique rules, yet you can game the system by going to areas and abolishing rules and bring rules from other regions to new regions. Well except for one region, it is the king of rules, no exceptions! The fun of this game is not just showing the npc's of FF8 why you are the Yugi Muto of Triple Triad, you see you can learn an ability to turn cards you win from Triple Triad into items, which in turn can be turned into spells, powerful spells, I'm talking spells you are not meant to gain until like lvl 45 or 50. This means that if you want to you can spend time in the starting area at lvl 7 and leave a powerhouse that level thanks to Triple Triad. But there is a problem, this method is not quick, it takes hours to do this and also to even be able to get the ability to do this you will need to get AP for your Guardian Forces, which means either fighting fights normally or carding enemies which kills them but doesn' give exp, it can only be done at low health so be careful not to accidentally kill them.

So I have given a decent way to have fun but let me give you guys, in my opinion, the best way to enjoy FF8's gameplay, cheats. That's right a game that's so weird that the PC port has cheats that you can add to your save. I'm not talking about the normal ones we saw when FF7 and FF9 were ported to modern consoles, like the ability to turn off encounters and have it so you don't lose health in combat and do max 9999 damage. I am talking about the ability to modify a save file so you start with most low and mid level magic at full stock on all characters, and let me tell you it is a blessing. On PC it also allows you to at anytime raise all magic stocks to 100 and max level Guardian Forces, and let me tell you guys if you don't have the patience for the grind or want to try and just enjoy the story I highly suggest using these cheats, it makes things so much easier and I hope that the FF8 port coming to console has these cheats too. Also I should let you guys know I didn't immediately use these cheats, I tried to play it legit about three different times and every time the grind burnt me out, honestly if it wasn't for these cheats I would never had enjoyed FF8's amazing story. Speaking of amazing stories, let's finish off this subway compliment sandwich and talk about the good stuff.

So let me give you guys the easy lore of this world, on this planet, there are two types of people, normal people and sorceress, sorceresses can use magic naturally and a lot of them use this power for world domination especially the last sorceress, Adel, who was in charge of the country of Esthar and almost succeeded, due to this the Gardens were created by a man named Cid with the sole purpose to be able to kill sorceress should one like Adel show up again. The thing is one will show up and I don't mean because of plots need for a main antagonist, I mean because a sorceress can not die until she passes her powers to another female. Our story follows the character of Squall Lionheart, a quiet and distant youth who wants nothing more than to be able to prove that he is strong enough to be on his own, so badly that he actively shuts out other people who try to get close to him. Our boy here is a SeeD candidate in Balamb Garden, which means he is close to graduating and being basically a mercenary for the Garden until the need to fight a Sorceress arrives. And from there that's how the story grows, you have a cast of characters that join over time each interesting in their own right, helping as you deal with a looming sorceresses threat. Sounds pretty standard right? Well let's be real even something standard can be handled masterfully and that is exactly what FF8 does. Before I get into that there are two more characters I need to talk about. Laguna Loire, a soldier of the Galbadian army, who Squall keeps having vivid dreams about, through these dreams you see piece by piece of what he went through and how these events shaped him and the world around him and also how he is connected to Squall. There is also Rinoa Heartilly, a young girl who wishes to free the city of Timber from Galabadian control and in the process acts as the catalyst to what motivates Squall to change, all do to a chance meeting. When you look at the plot of FF8 it is abit generic what with stopping a Sorceress from creating her perfect utopia and most characters, outside of the ones mentioned above, get little depth to them, but what makes this story so engaging and interesting is Squall.

You see Squall starts off as a character who I can say I was disappointed in and didn't really like, a character I had adored since I was a kid due to my memories with that demo. He is angsty, off putting and really annoying, hell it feels like half of Squalls Dialogue is "...", but the thing is, that's the point. Squall is like that because he is afraid of trusting people again, fearing that if he does he will get hurt again and abandoned like he was as a child, so he puts on this cold front to make it easier for him, he doesn't have to worry if people like and rely on him if he is cold and indifferent, they would all just hate him. It is through this premise and his chance meeting with Rinoa that we see how Squall grows and changes, a man who I started off hating and grew to love and it's because it feels natural. Squall isn't cold because he thinks its cool or because he knows he is better than everyone else, he is a kid, a sad kid who went through heartbreak way to young and is afraid to love someone again. He is thrust into a dangerous world and has to come to terms that his lifestyle will not work for him, that he needs and wants to rely on others and he can't just keep ignoring a part of himself. Through the course of FF8 you see a quiet kid with a broken heart, overcome himself and become a real hero and use his new strength to make sure he can protect those close to him as well as himself.

And now we reach a bit of a problem, I would love to explain more, I want to explain why certain scenes moved me so much and why Squall's journey brought me to tears, but then I would need to spoil parts of the story, and that is the last thing I want to do. This is a Final Fantasy story that has incredible character development and I want people to be able to experience it themselves, to see what makes it great. I should also at least mention that the story is not without faults and tropes with Rinoa starting off being your typical manic pixie dream girl and if Squall really wanted to be alone he would have left SeeD after completing his training, and of course the other characters are not given as much screen time as Squall and Rinoa. However, tropes are not always bad and can still have depth, and by the end of the story I would say that Rinoa sheds the trope but it is on the nose in the beginning.

I left a lot of stuff out and with the HD remaster coming out sometime this year I think that if this article intrigued you, pick up a copy and experience it yourself. Experience a masterpiece of character growth that I believe is held back by clunky gameplay choices. I sincerely hope if you do decide to pick up this title that you enjoy Squall's story as much as I did.

[awkward-uwu]

A Royal Journey pt.1

Previous//Next

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy

Pairings: Female Reader x Felix

Word count: 4,487

Summery: Living in a world of magic and monsters can actually be pretty uneventful when you live inside the safety of city walls. But what happens when your closest friends bring you outside that safety?

You live in a small country by the name of Estra, a place where all types of magic and peoples are welcome, which makes for an interesting life. In this country you live in the royal city of Ironwind, and you are a cleric, a royal cleric to be exact. You moved from home and trained to be one since the day you turned ten. Which isn't as bad as it sounds, as you wanted this, to be able to help people using the name of Apollo was always a dream of yours. Being able to help the royal family was just a bonus. You live in a house connected to the temple of Apollo by the castle. You live there with five other clerics who are all a good amount older than you, as they've basically adopted you as their child.

Most days you stay in the temple praying, helping people out who come in or practicing spells. And once in awhile you get to go out into the lower levels of the city to help those who need it most these days are your favorites.

It's another normal day in the temple, people coming in and out, praying, getting healing done. You're in the back room with one of the other clerics putting away some potions when you hear the door open, and you hear a familiar voice, “Y/n, Felix hurt himself again.”

You smile and roll your eyes, “Again? What happened this time?” You walk out to the front where you see your two closest friends Felix and Chan.

Felix is the Prince, and Chan is his closest friend (even though he's more like another parent) the Queen assigned Chan to keep an eye on him because of how much Felix likes to get into trouble.

Chan is in full silver scale mail armor, and Felix is in casual light blue leather armor. “He tried to skip practice again and tripped on a log and hurt his arm.” Chan says with a sigh.

“It was boring! We just keep doing the same things over and over!” Felix pouts. You chuckle, “Let me look at it.” You walk over to Felix and take his arm to look at it and he winces, “How hard did you fall?? This might actually be broken!” Chan sighs, “Your Mother isn't gonna be too happy about this.”

“Wait! Y/n! Can't you just, I don't know, use one of your spells and fix it??” Felix says in a small panic.

“I'm not a strong cleric Felix, my spells can only do so much right now, I can go get Rita if you'd like, she's just in the back room.” You say turning to leave. “Wait! No!” Felix shouts, you turn back around towards him confused. “They don't know me as well as you do… they might put it back together wrong…” He says quietly.

You and Chan look at each other for a second, and then laugh. “Ok, but you'll have to come back tomorrow so I can fully heal it.” You say still laughing a little.

So you heal up Felix to the best of you ability, put his arm in a splint, then send them off and go back to your potions.

The upper city is bustling today, people walking around, shopping, talking. As they walk through the city, people stop their work or conversations to greet Felix with a bow or curtsy, Felix nods in acknowledgement.

“So, which one of us is gonna tell your mom about this?” Chan says walking alongside Felix. “I don't know, either way she is gonna kill me…” Felix says looking dejected.

“How about we tell her it happened at practice, that way she doesn't get as mad, plus, it's not exactly lying, you didn't get very far” Chan says with a laugh and a wink. Felix smiles and punches Chan in the arm “Rude. But thanks, I like that idea”

A small while later they arrive at the castle wall gates. The gates are an intricate silver, and are connected to a large brick wall. On either side of the gate there is a guard tower with a single guard in each. On the ground in front of the gate there are two more guards. “Your Highness.” they say in unison and bow. Felix nods and they open the gates so they can enter.

On the way in they hear a familiar voice “Prince Felix!! Chan!” A smaller boy wearing dark blue wizards robes runs up to them. “Jeongin!” Felix shouts back. The boy kneels down to bow. “Jeongin… I told you that you don't need to be so formal around me.” Felix says with a bit of a frown. “Oh sorry… I forgot” Jeongin stands up.

“Don't worry you're fine, now, why were you running so fast?” Felix asks. “Oh!! Yeah!! I learned a new spell! Do you want to see??” Jeongin says excitedly. “Uh yes!!” Felix says sounding almost more excited than Jeongin. Jeongin then pulls out a small spell book and a skinny twig like wand and reaches it out to cast the spell. “Hey! Not at the front gates!” A guard on the other side of the gate shouts.

Jeongin freezes and lowers his wand with a bit of a pout “Sorry…” He says quietly. “Hey, why don't we head to the garden, there's a nice open area in there we can use.” Chan says. Jeongin's face lights back up with a bright smile and they head to the garden.

The garden is a lush green area full of rose bushes and fruit bearing trees, there is a small pond in the center with a small island with a bench on it in the middle, four bridges leading to it. Around the pond is a grassy area where the boys sit down to watch the new spell Jeongin has learned.

“So, what happened to your arm?” Jeongin asks while they sit on the grass. “Long story, it's not important, what's important is seeing that new spell of yours!” Felix says changing the subject, Chan rolls his eyes at him. “Oh! Right!” Jeongin stands up “Ok ok, are you ready?” Jeongin pulls out his spell book and wand.

“Of course!” Felix says excitedly. Jeongin waves his wand and speaks an incantation, there's a small spark from his wand, and three more Jeongins appear around him. “Ta da!!” Jeongin says triumphantly. Felix and Chan both stand up “Woah! There’s more of you!” Felix says a little shocked.

Chan walks over and attempts to poke one and his hand goes right through it. “This is weird… but also really cool! Why did you learn it though?” Chan says as he continues to poke at the illusions. Jeongin shrugs, “I don't know, it seemed cool.”

They continue to mess with the illusions until they disappear a minute later. “Aw, that was a short spell” Felix says with a small frown. “Yeah, it only lasts a minute, I think it's supposed to be used in a fight” Jeongin says.

“Sure, because you're gonna get in a big enough fight that you'll need this, the biggest fight you've been in was probably over a quill” Felix says with a laugh.

“Not true! I've had sparring matches with my classmates and teacher before! Plus, I'm not just a wizard in training, I'm a war wizard in training, which means I'll be fighting alongside you if we ever go to war once you're king!” Jeongin says matter of factly.

Felix’s face drops a bit “Oh, yeah, right.” He frowns and looks down to the side. “Oh, Felix, I'm sorry... I forgot you don't like talking about that…” Jeongin says apologetically. “No no it's fine, I really shouldn't get like this about it, it's gonna happen no matter what” Felix shrugs.

They all just stand there for a moment. “Well, we really should get to your mother, I'm sure she wants to hear all about your day” Chan says breaking the silence, Felix lets out a sigh “Do we have to?” He whines. “Unfortunately, yes. Come on Jeongin, we'll drop you off at your place since it's on the way” Chan says as he begins to walk, and the other two follow.

They quickly make it to Jeongin's place, due to it being right near the edge of the garden. It's a wooden two-floor house with vines growing up the sides, and a few shrubs around the bottom. It's not exactly the nicest place in the castle walls, but it is pretty.

Jeongin heads up to the house “Ok we'll see you around, keep practicing!” Chan shouts. Felix waves, and they head to the castle. The castle is made up of four large round towers, it is connected by tall walls that go a little past mid tower. The walls are made up of a light grey stone, and there are light blue banners and flags around the outside walls and the tops of the towers. Chan and Felix enter through the main doors which leads almost directly to the throne room. The throne room has a long light blue and silver carpet, and the same coloured banners along the walls. It's a large room with a fairly high ceiling. At the far end of the room is the throne where the Queen is sat; on her right is a smaller empty throne, on her left is a young man with a scroll speaking to her about something.

When she sees the boys enter, she smiles. Although as she sees Felix arm her face fills with worry, and then her brows furrow and she lets out a sigh. She waves her hand to tell the young man to leave, he then bows and makes his way out.

A little over halfway to the throne Chan kneels and bows deeply “Your majesty.” Chan says. “Paladin Chan.” She responds with a smile.

Felix continues closer to the throne and bows, much less deep than Chan “Mother.” Felix says not making eye contact. “Felix. I see you've had an exciting day.” She responds. “What's the story today?” Felix takes in a deep breath, “Well, you see, I was at practice, and this hole, just appears out of nowhere, and my foot got caught, and I fell. See? And I didn't catch myself right, so now my arm is hurt.” Felix says very quickly.

“I see, and why did you not get it fully healed by the clerics? We have some that are strong enough to fully fix that.”

“Uhh… because... the only one available was the youngest one, we'll be going tomorrow to get it fully healed!” Felix explains. The queen chuckles “I see. You sure seem to like that younger cleric down there, I sometimes wonder if you get yourself hurt just to see her.” She remarks.

“What! No! Of course not! Why would you think that?” Felix says rushed and a little panicked. Both the Queen and Chan laugh “Alright alright, calm down.” She says still laughing a bit “I need to talk to you both about something. Chan, come closer to me.” She says in a more serious tone.

Slightly confused Chan gets up and joins Felix, “Are we in trouble?” Felix asks. “No, not at all, the opposite in fact. You're getting to that age where you need to start being more mature, your teachers have told me that you've been doing well in your studies and it might be time.” She states in a serious tone.

“Time…?” Felix questioned. “Time for you to go out and become the king this country deserves. I personally didn't want to do this but the council suggested this to be the best course of action. I'm sending you, Chan and whomever else who you see fit, to go outside of the city.” She states calmly.

“What?! Why?!” Felix shouts. “Felix, calm down, she just wants what's best for you and the kingdom.” Chan says calmly and sets a hand on Felix’s shoulder.

“But what if it's not what's best for me?? What if something happens? What if someone gets hurt, what if I… get hurt..?” Felix questioned quietly.

“Felix… Dear... I know this is a bit scary, but you were going to have to this eventually. Your father had to do this, and his father as well. It's been a something that every royal prince in this kingdom has had to do. You are a strong, smart young man, I'm sure you'll do great.” The queen explains.

“I guess… can I just have a day to think about this? It's a little sudden, I need some time.” Felix asks.

“Of course, you have until tomorrow at this time to let the idea set in.” She responds. “Thank you. I'll be in my room the rest of the day if you need me.” Felix says as he turns and leaves.

Chan bows deeply towards the Queen and turns to follow Felix. As they're about the leave the Queen shouts “Felix wait!” Both Felix and Chan turn back around “I love you.” The queen says with a soft smile. Felix smiles “I love you too.”

Later, Chan drops Felix of at his room, “I'll see you tomorrow morning, please don't run off or anything,” Chan requests. “I won't, don't worry. (Not far at least)” “What??”

“I'm just kidding, calm down, I'm not going anywhere.” Chan furrows his brows and squints his eyes, “Alright, I'm trusting you.” Felix smiles, “Ok, goodnight Chan.”

“Good night Felix.”Chan reaches out and ruffles Felix’s hair, then he turns and leaves.

Later once the sun is fully set and the stars are out, Felix leaves his room. There aren't many guards around at this time so he sneaks out easily. He makes his way to the garden and lays down in the grass next to the pond to watch the stars and think. After about half an hour of watching stars he begins to hear footsteps behind himself. He jumps to his feet and gets in a defensive stance “Woah! Felix, it's just me.” Felix relaxes “Jeongin, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He says clutching his chest. “Sorry… I saw you head out here and thought you might want some company” Felix sighs “Well, you're not wrong, I've just got alot on my mind…”

“Ah, so, do you wanna talk about it…?”

“Well yeah, mom is telling me I have to go out of the city and ‘become the king this country deserves’ and she says I'll be fine, but I'm not sure, I'm worried. What if something happens to the people I bring with me? What if I hurt someone? What we get lost? We could die out in the middle of nowhere?? What if… what if I can't become a good king… I'm not what this country deserves…” Felix sits down in the grass. Jeongin sits down next to him stumped for a moment. “Wow” Jeongin says softly.“Yeah” Felix responds. After sitting in silence for a few minutes Jeongin speaks up, “Felix, why are you worrying so much? You are the coolest person I know! You're strong, smart, you know how to handle yourself in a fight, you have good friends who are willing to help you. I'm positive everything go very well.” Felix sits there for a moment, still looking at the stars, “Ya know Jeongin, you might be right. What if I am overreacting? I mean, I'll have Chan with me, and I can fight pretty darn well…”

“See? You know I'm always right!” Felix then elbows him in the side, “Ow! What was that for??” Felix just laughs and lays back down in the grass, Jeongin follows and lays next to him now also laughing.

“Hey Jeongin?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a strong wizard?” Felix asks still staring at the stars. “You know it! I'm the strongest student in my class!” Jeongin sits up “Why?” He questions. “Well, mom said I should make up a team of sorts to go with me, do you wanna come with me?” Felix asks still laying in the grass. Jeongin's face lights up, “Um yes!! I was hoping you would ask! I've learned a bunch of new strong spells, and I'll be really useful! You can count on me!” Jeongin says excitedly as he fully stands up. Felix now sits up, “Great! Be in front of the castle two hours after midday.”

“Got it! I'll see you then.” Jeongin says as he lends a hand to help Felix up. Once he's up, they walk to Jeongin's place, say their goodbyes, for now, and Felix makes his way back to his room without issue. And after some over thinking, he finally falls asleep.

The next day Felix wakes up early and Chan is already waiting outside his room “Did you sleep well?” Chan asks. “I did! Thank you for asking!” Felix says with a smile.

“Well you seem much more chipper this morning, are you comfortable with the idea already?” Chan asks with a smirk. “Yup! By the way, we're bringing Jeongin with us!” Felix says walking away “Wait what?” But Felix is already at the end of the hallway.

Later that morning they make their way to the temple to get Felix’s arm fully healed. The temple of Apollo is made of the same brick as the castle. It's a wide one story building with a tall steeple. It has light blue accents and a flower garden that goes all the way around the base of the building. The actual temple area for prying is in the far back, and anyone is welcome to go into it. The front room of the temple is a warm comfortable room with couch like chairs that have pillows and blankets on them. There are potted plants in a few of the corners, and the far right corner has a desk that you're sitting behind writing some things down.

Chan and Felix walk in and you smile “Ah welcome back, are you ready for me to fix you up the rest of the way?” You begin walking towards them, “Yep!” Felix says with a smile. As you make your way over a young lady walks in “Um, excuse me?” She asks quietly “Ah yes, what can I help you with?” You respond. “I was wondering where the shrine was, I was hoping for a quiet place to pray.”

“Ah yes, of course! Can you two excuse me for a moment?”

“Oh, I could take her back if you'd like. I've been here to pray multiple times. That way you can get to healing Felix up the rest of the way.” Chan insists. “Oh alright, thank you Chan!” You say with a smile. She follows Chan to the back and you and Felix sit down. You take his arm and you begin to take off the splint. “So anything exciting happen since the last time you've seen me?” You ask with a smile. “Actually, yes! I'm leaving the city!” He responds excitedly. You freeze, “What?? Why are you leaving??” You furrow your brows and frown. “Mother is sending me, Chan, and a few others of my choosing to leave the city. She says its to turn me into ‘a king this country deserves.” As he's saying this, you continue to remove the splint and begin the spell. “Ah, I see… so that means I won't be able to see you for a long time?” Your  eyes stay trained on his arm.

“Actually, I was hoping you could join us! We could use another person who can heal besides Chan.” The spell finishes and you look back at his face, “Really?? Why me though? I'm not the strongest cleric, and I don't really know how to fight…” You look down, setting your hands in your lap. “Oh don't worry about that, I can teach you to fight! And you'll get stronger by coming with us!” He beams as he takes your hands from your lap. “We can get stronger together!” He says smiling happily. “Alright! I just need to ask my superiors and make sure I'm allowed to leave!” You say, now also smiling brightly.

You both sit there for a moment just looking at each other, until you both realize how close you are. You both let go of each others hands and look away, hoping the other didn't see the blush on your faces. You stand up and clear your throat “I should go ask Rita about this, I'm sure she'll let me go.” You say turning around. You then see Chan leaning up against the counter. “Oh, Chan! You're back! How long have you been there...?” You question. “Long enough” Chan says with a smirk. “Ah…” Unsure of what to say you just stand there for a moment.

“Chan! Y/n is coming with us!” Felix says excitedly standing up. “It's not for sure, I still need to talk to the other clerics about it. Which I'm going to do right now, if you'll excuse me.” You say now heading to the back room.

Chan and Felix wait out in the front room for about 15 minutes, Felix starts worrying “What if she can't come? What if she gets in trouble for wanting to leave? What if-”

“I can go!!” You shout interrupting Felix. “That's great!” Chan exclaims. “Why don't you come with us to the castle? We can all talk about what the plan is there. Plus, I'm sure that Her Majesty would love to officially meet you” Chan says smiling.

“Me? Meet with the Queen?? Right now??? I need to go clean up, I am not presentable right now!” You begin to fix your hair and dust off your clothes with your hands. “No don't worry you look fine! She won't care about how you look, just, don't say anything dumb” Felix says walking up to you. “Well, ok then… I can't promise I won't say anything dumb though…” You chuckle nervously.

With that you three leave the temple. At the castle Jeongin sits on a bench near the castle doors. “Chan! Prince Felix! And… person I don't know… Hi!!” Jeongin shouts. “Hey Jeongin!!” Felix shouts back and runs up to Jeongin, “This is Y/n, she'll be coming with us!” Felix says as you and Chan follow up behind Felix. “Oh, hello! My name's Jeongin, I'm a wizard in training!” He says proudly. “It's nice to meet you! I'm a cleric… in training” You say with a chuckle. “Good, now you two know each other, I'm gonna go inside with Chan and talk to talk to my mother. You guys stay out here, Chan will come get you shortly,” Felix states and then heads inside with Chan.

You and Jeongin stand in awkward silence for a few minutes until Chan comes back out to get you, and you both go inside. On the way in you quickly fix your hair and adjust your shirt. You stay close behind Chan because you're weary of doing anything wrong. You three walk in and Felix smiles. You make it little over halfway to the throne, and Chan stops both of you and kneels to bow deeply towards the Queen. You and Jeongin copy him. “Please stand. Come closer to me.” the Queen commands. All three of you stand and make your way to the throne. “So, these are the people you choose to take with you?” She asks. “Yes.” Felix responds with a nod. “I see. Please, introduce yourselves.” She instructs. Jeongin goes up first, he kneels and bows deeply.

“Your majesty, my name is Jeongin Yang, wizard in training, it is an honor to meet you.” The queen nods and smiles. Jeongin stand up and returns to Chan's side. You then go up and kneel to bow. “Your majesty, my name is Y/n Y/ln, royal cleric of Apollo. It is an honor to meet you.” The queen nods and smiles.

“Ah, Y/n, so you're the young cleric Felix tells me so much about” She says with a smile. You stand and make your way back to Chan's side.

“Please, Jeongin and Y/n, come closer.” The queen instructs. Jeongin and you both step forward. “Now, both of you have chosen to join Prince Felix on this journey. And you both realize how dangerous this is, correct?”

“Yes.” You both respond in unison “Good, and you are both willing to risk your life for Prince Felix, correct?”

Felix speaks up “Mother-”

“Yes.” You and Jeongin respond without a second thought. Felix stands there a little slack jawed. Chan smirks, and The Queen smiles. “Good. I can now comfortably send my son into the world with you. Please, keep him, and each other safe.”

“Yes your majesty.” You and Jeongin say in unison.

“Now, you all should prepare to leave in the morning, I recommend you stop at The Heart on the way out, it's the royal guard quarters in the lowest level of the city, they should have requests for you to pick up there.”

“Understood, thank you your majesty.” Chan says with a bow and turns to leave. You and Jeongin bow deeply and do the same, Felix follows behind.

“Felix” The queen says expectantly.

“Yes mother?” He says turning toward her.

“I love you.” She smiles. He stops for a second “I love you too.”

Outside the castle you say goodbye to Jeongin, and he heads back to his place so he can get ready for tomorrow. “Hey, it's getting later in the day, we should walk you back.” Felix says. “It's not a very long walk. But alright, thank you!” You smile.

So Chan and Felix walk you back to the temple. On the way there you spot someone, or something, lurking in the shadows of the alley next to the temple, “Hey, guys, I think someone's watching us…” You gesture towards the man. The moment you say that he runs off into the alley. “Hey!” Chan shouts and runs after him and Felix walks you the rest of the way to the temple.

“I'm not sure I like the idea of you staying here with shifty people wandering around…” Felix states.

“Felix, I'll be fine, don't worry, I've got the other clerics here.” About that time Chan returns, “I'm sorry, he was too fast, I couldn't get him.”

“That's alright, we can tell the royal guard in the morning to keep an eye on this area.” You respond.

Felix looks unsure but agrees “Alright, we'll see you in the morning then. If something happens don't do anything by yourself, make sure you get one of the other clerics.” Felix tells you.

“Ok ok, I got it, I'll be fine, I'm going inside now, good night Felix, good night Chan.” “Good night Y/n” they respond in union. You shut the door, and they head back to the castle.

Previous//Next

[unsettlingshortstories]

Don't Look Now

Daphne du Maurier (1971)

'DON'T LOOK NOW,' John said to his wife, 'but there are a couple of old girls two tables away who are trying to hypnotise me.'

Laura, quick on cue, made an elaborate pretence of yawning, then tilted her head as though searching the skies for a non-existent aeroplane.

'Right behind you,' he added. 'That's why you can't turn round at once-it would be much too obvious.'

Laura played the oldest trick in the world and dropped her napkin, then bent to scrabble for it under her feet, sending a shooting glance over her left shoulder as she straightened once again. She sucked in her cheeks, the first tell-tale sign of suppressed hysteria, and lowered her head.

'They're not old girls at all,' she said. 'They're male twins in drag.'

Her voice broke ominously, the prelude to uncontrolled laughter, and John quickly poured some more chianti into her glass.

'Pretend to choke,' he said, 'then they won't notice. You know what it is-they're criminals doing the sights of Europe, changing sex at each stop. Twin sisters here on Torcello. Twin brothers tomorrow in Venice, or even tonight, parading arm-in-arm across the Piazza San Marco. Just a matter of switching clothes and wigs.'

'Jewel thieves or murderers?' asked Laura.

'Oh, murderers, definitely. But why, I ask myself, have they picked on me?'

The waiter made a diversion by bringing coffee and bearing away the fruit, which gave Laura time to banish hysteria and regain control.

'I can't think,' she said, 'why we didn't notice them when we arrived. They stand out to high heaven. One couldn't fail.'

'That gang of Americans masked them,' said John, 'and the bearded man with a monocle who looked like a spy. It wasn't until they all went just now that I saw the twins. Oh God, the one with the shock of white hair has got her eye on me again.'

Laura took the powder compact from her bag and held it in front of her face, the mirror acting as a reflector.

'I think it's me they're looking at, not you,' she said. 'Thank heaven I left my pearls with the manager at the hotel.' She paused, dabbing the sides of her nose with powder. 'The thing is,' she said after a moment, 'we've got them wrong. They're neither murderers nor thieves. They're a couple of pathetic old retired schoolmistresses on holiday, who've saved up all their lives to visit Venice. They come from some place with a name like Walabanga in Australia. And they're called Tilly and Tiny.'

Her voice, for the first time since they had come away, took on the old bubbling quality he loved, and the worried frown between her brows had vanished. At last, he thought, at last she's beginning to get over it. If I can keep this going, if we can pick up the familiar routine of jokes shared on holiday and at home, the ridiculous fantasies about people at other tables, or staying in the hotel, or wandering in art galleries and churches, then everything will fall into place, life will become as it was before, the wound will heal, she will forget.

'You know,' said Laura, 'that really was a very good lunch. I did enjoy it.'

Thank God, he thought, thank God…. Then he leant forward, speaking low in a conspirator's whisper. 'One of them is going to the loo,' he said. Do you suppose he, or she, is going to change her wig?'

'Don't say anything,' Laura murmured. 'I'll follow her and find out. She may have a suitcase tucked away there, and she's going to switch clothes.'

She began to hum under her breath, the signal, to her husband, of content. The ghost was temporarily laid, and all because of the familiar holiday game, abandoned too long, and now, through mere chance, blissfully recaptured.

'Is she on her way?' asked Laura.

'About to pass our table now,' he told her.

Seen on her own, the woman was not so remarkable. Tall, angular, aquiline features, with the close-cropped hair which was fashionably called an Eton crop, he seemed to remember, in his mother's day, and about her person the stamp of that particular generation. She would be in her middle sixties, he supposed, the masculine shirt with collar and tie, sports jacket, grey tweed skirt coming to mid-calf. Grey stockings and laced black shoes. He had seen the type on golf-courses and at dog-shows-invariably showing not sporting breeds but pugs-and if you came across them at a party in somebody's house they were quicker on the draw with a cigarette-lighter than he was himself, a mere male, with pocket-matches. The general belief that they kept house with a more feminine, fluffy companion was not always true. Frequently they boasted, and adored, a golfing husband. No, the striking point about this particular individual was that there were two of them. Identical twins cast in the same mould. The only difference was that the other one had whiter hair.

'Supposing,' murmured Laura, 'when I find myself in the toilette beside her she starts to strip?'

'Depends on what is revealed,' John answered. 'If she's hermaphrodite, make a bolt for it. She might have a hypodermic syringe concealed and want to knock you out before you reached the door.'

Laura sucked in her cheeks once more and began to shake. Then, squaring her shoulders, she rose to her feet. 'I simply must not laugh,' she said, 'and whatever you do, don't look at me when I come back, especially if we come out together.' She picked up her bag and strolled self-consciously away from the table in pursuit of her prey.

John poured the dregs of the chianti into his glass and lit a cigarette. The sun blazed down upon the little garden of the restaurant. The Americans had left, and the monocled man, and the family party at the far end. All was peace. The identical twin was sitting back in her chair with her eyes closed. Thank heaven, he thought, for this moment at any rate, when relaxation was possible, and Laura had been launched upon her foolish, harmless game. The holiday could yet turn into the cure she needed, blotting out, if only temporarily, the numb despair that had seized her since the child died.

'She'll get over it,' the doctor said. 'They all get over it, in time. And you have the boy.'

'I know,' John had said, 'but the girl meant everything. She always did, right from the start, I don't know why. I suppose it was the difference in age. A boy of school age, and a tough one at that, is someone in his own right. Not a baby of five. Laura literally adored her. Johnnie and I were nowhere.'

'Give her time,' repeated the doctor, 'give her time. And anyway, you're both young still. There'll be others. Another daughter.'

So easy to talk…. How replace the life of a loved lost child with a dream? He knew Laura too well. Another child, another girl, would have her own qualities, a separate identity, she might even induce hostility because of this very fact. A usurper in the cradle, in the cot, that had been Christine's. A chubby, flaxen replica of Johnnie, not the little waxen dark-haired sprite that had gone.

He looked up, over his glass of wine, and the woman was staring at him again. It was not the casual, idle glance of someone at a nearby table, waiting for her companion to return, but something deeper, more intent, the prominent, light blue eyes oddly penetrating, giving him a sudden feeling of discomfort. Damn the woman! All right, bloody stare, if you must. Two can play at that game. He blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air and smiled at her, he hoped offensively. She did not register. The blue eyes continued to hold his, so that he was obliged to look away himself, extinguish his cigarette, glance over his shoulder for the waiter and call for the bill. Settling for this, and fumbling with the change, with a few casual remarks about the excellence of the meal, brought composure, but a prickly feeling on his scalp remained, and an odd sensation of unease. Then it went, as abruptly as it had started, and stealing a furtive glance at the other table he saw that her eyes were closed again, and she was sleeping, or dozing, as she had done before. The waiter disappeared. All was still.

Laura, he thought, glancing at his watch, is being a hell of a time. Ten minutes at least. Something to tease her about, anyway. He began to plan the form the joke would take. How the old dolly had stripped to her smalls, suggesting that Laura should do likewise. And then the manager had burst in upon them both, exclaiming in horror, the reputation of the restaurant damaged, the hint that unpleasant consequences might follow unless… The whole exercise turning out to be a plant, an exercise in blackmail. He and Laura and the twins taken in a police launch back to Venice for questioning. Quarter of an hour…. Oh, come on, come on….

There was a crunch of feet on the gravel. Laura's twin walked slowly past, alone. She crossed over to her table and stood there a moment, her tall, angular figure interposing itself between John and her sister. She was saying something, but he couldn't catch the words. What was the accent, though-Scottish? Then she bent, offering an arm to the seated twin, and they moved away together across the garden to the break in the little hedge beyond, the twin who had stared at John leaning on her sister's arm. Here was the difference again. She was not quite so tall, and she stooped more-perhaps she was arthritic. They disappeared out of sight, and John, becoming impatient, got up and was about to walk back into the hotel when Laura emerged.

'Well, I must say, you took your time,' he began, and then stopped, because of the expression on her face.

'What's the matter, what's happened?' he asked.

He could tell at once there was something wrong. Almost as if she were in a state of shock. She blundered towards the table he had just vacated and sat down. He drew up a chair beside her, taking her hand.

'Darling, what is it? Tell me- are you ill?'

She shook her head, and then turned and looked at him. The dazed expression he had noticed at first had given way to one of dawning confidence, almost of exaltation.

'It's quite wonderful,' she said slowly, 'the most wonderful thing that could possibly be. You see, she isn't dead, she's still with us. That's why they kept staring at us, those two sisters. They could see Christine.'

Oh God, he thought. It's what I've been dreading. She's going off her head. What do I do? How do I cope?

'Laura, sweet,' he began, forcing a smile, 'look, shall we go? I've paid the bill, we can go and look at the cathedral and stroll around, and then it will be time to take off in that launch again for Venice.'

She wasn't listening, or at any rate the words didn't penetrate.

'John, love,' she said, 'I've got to tell you what happened. I followed her, as we planned, into the toilette place. She was combing her hair and I went into the loo, and then came out and washed my hands in the basin. She was washing hers in the next basin. Suddenly she turned and said to me, in a strong Scots accent, 'Don't be unhappy any more. My sister has seen your little girl. She was sitting between you and your husband, laughing.' Darling, I thought I was going to faint. I nearly did. Luckily, there was a chair, and I sat down, and the woman bent over me and patted my head. I'm not sure of her exact words, but she said something about the moment of truth and joy being as sharp as a sword, but not to be afraid, all was well, but the sister's vision had been so strong they knew I had to be told, and that Christine wanted it. Oh, John, don't look like that. I swear I'm not making it up, this is what she told me, it's all true.'

The desperate urgency in her voice made his heart sicken. He had to play along with her, agree, soothe, do anything to bring back some sense of calm.

'Laura, darling, of course I believe you,' he said, 'only it's a sort of shock, and I'm upset because you're upset….'

'But I'm not upset,' she interrupted. 'I'm happy, so happy that I can't put the feeling into words. You know what it's been like all these weeks, at home and everywhere we've been on holiday, though I tried to hide it from you. Now it's lifted, because I know, I just know, that the woman was right. Oh Lord, how awful of me, but I've forgotten their name-she did tell me. You see, the thing is that she's a retired doctor, they come from Edinburgh, and the one who saw Christine went blind a few years ago. Although she's studied the occult all her life and been very psychic, it's only since going blind that she has really seen things, like a medium. They've had the most wonderful experiences. But to describe Christine as the blind one did to her sister, even down to the little blue-and-white dress with the puff sleeves that she wore at her birthday party, and to say she was smiling happily…. Oh, darling, it's made me so happy I think I'm going to cry.'

No hysteria. Nothing wild. She took a tissue from her bag and blew her nose, smiling at him. 'I'm all right, you see, you don't have to worry. Neither of us need worry about anything any more. Give me a cigarette.'

He took one from his packet and lighted it for her. She sounded normal, herself again. She wasn't trembling. And if this sudden belief was going to keep her happy he couldn't possibly begrudge it. But… but… he wished, all the same, it hadn't happened. There was something uncanny about thought-reading, about telepathy. Scientists couldn't account for it, nobody could, and this is what must have happened just now between Laura and the sisters. So the one who had been staring at him was blind. That accounted for the fixed gaze. Which somehow was unpleasant in itself, creepy. Oh hell, he thought, I wish we hadn't come here for lunch. Just chance, a flick of a coin between this, Torcello, and driving to Padua, and we had to choose Torcello.

'You didn't arrange to meet them again or anything, did you?' he asked, trying to sound casual.

'No, darling, why should I?' Laura answered. 'I mean, there was nothing more they could tell me. The sister had her wonderful vision, and that was that. Anyway, they're moving on. Funnily enough, it's rather like our original game. They are going round the world before returning to Scotland. Only I said Australia, didn't I? The old dears…. Anything less like murderers and jewel thieves.'

She had quite recovered. She stood up and looked about her. 'Come on,' she said. 'Having come to Torcello we must see the cathedral.'

They made their way from the restaurant across the open piazza, where the stalls had been set up with scarves and trinkets and postcards, and so along the path to the cathedral. One of the ferry-boats had just decanted a crowd of sightseers, many of whom had already found their way into Santa Maria Assunta. Laura, undaunted, asked her husband for the guidebook, and, as had always been her custom in happier days, started to walk slowly through the cathedral, studying mosaics, columns, panels from left to right, while John, less interested, because of his concern at what had just happened, followed close behind, keeping a weather eye alert for the twin sisters. There was no sign of them. Perhaps they had gone into the church of Santa Fosca close by. A sudden encounter would be embarrassing, quite apart from the effect it might have upon Laura. But the anonymous, shuffling tourists, intent upon culture, could not harm her, although from his own point of view they made artistic appreciation impossible. He could not concentrate, the cold clear beauty of what he saw left him untouched, and when Laura touched his sleeve, pointing to the mosaic of the Virgin and Child standing above the frieze of the Apostles, he nodded in sympathy yet saw nothing, the long, sad face of the Virgin infinitely remote, and turning on sudden impulse stared back over the heads of the tourists towards the door, where frescoes of the blessed and the damned gave themselves to judgement.

The twins were standing there, the blind one still holding on to her sister's arm, her sightless eyes fixed firmly upon him. He felt himself held, unable to move, and an impending sense of doom, of tragedy, came upon him. His whole being sagged, as it were, in apathy, and he thought, 'This is the end, there is no escape, no future.' Then both sisters turned and went out of the cathedral and the sensation vanished, leaving indignation in its wake, and rising anger. How dare those two old fools practise their mediumistic tricks on him? It was fraudulent, unhealthy; this was probably the way they lived, touring the world making everyone they met uncomfortable. Give them half a chance and they would have got money out of Laura-anything.

He felt her tugging at his sleeve again. 'Isn't she beautiful? So happy, so serene.'

'Who? What?' he asked.

'The Madonna,' she answered. 'She has a magic quality. It goes right through to one. Don't you feel it too?'

'I suppose so. I don't know. There are too many people around.'

She looked up at him, astonished. 'What's that got to do with it? How funny you are. Well, all right, let's get away from them. I want to buy some postcards anyway.'

Disappointed, she sensed his lack of interest, and began to thread her way through the crowd of tourists to the door.

'Come on,' he said abruptly, once they were outside, 'there's plenty of time for postcards, let's explore a bit,' and he struck off from the path, which would have taken them back to the centre where the little houses were, and the stalls, and the drifting crowd of people, to a narrow way amongst uncultivated ground, beyond which he could see a sort of cutting or canal. The sight of water, limpid, pale, was a soothing contrast to the fierce sun above their heads.

'I don't think this leads anywhere much,' said Laura. 'It's a bit muddy, too, one can't sit. Besides, there are more things the guidebook says we ought to see.'

'Oh. forget the book,' he said impatiently, and, pulling her down beside him on the bank above the cutting, put his arms round her.

'It's the wrong time of day for sight-seeing. Look, there's a rat swimming there the other side.'

He picked up a stone and threw it in the water, and the animal sank, or somehow disappeared, and nothing was left but bubbles.

'Don't,' said Laura. 'It's cruel, poor thing,' and then suddenly, putting her hand on his knee, 'Do you think Christine is sitting here beside us?'

He did not answer at once. What was there to say? Would it be like this forever?

'I expect so,' he said slowly, 'if you feel she is.'

The point was, remembering Christine before the onset of the fatal meningitis, she would have been running along the bank excitedly, throwing off her shoes, wanting to paddle, giving Laura a fit of apprehension. 'Sweetheart, take care, come back…'

'The woman said she was looking so happy, sitting beside us, smiling,' said Laura. She got up, brushing her dress, her mood changed to restlessness. 'Come on, let's go back,' she said.

He followed her with a sinking heart. He knew she did not really want to buy postcards or see what remained to be seen; she wanted to go in search of the women again, not necessarily to talk, just to be near them. When they came to the open place by the stalls he noticed that the crowd of tourists had thinned, there were only a few stragglers left, and the sisters were not amongst them. They must have joined the main body who had come to Torcello by the ferry-service. A wave of relief seized him.

'Look, there's a mass of postcards at the second stall,' he said quickly, 'and some eye-catching head scarves. Let me buy you a head scarf.'

'Darling, I've so many!' she protested. 'Don't waste your lire.'

'It isn't a waste. I'm in a buying mood. What about a basket? You know we never have enough baskets. Or some lace. How about lace?'

She allowed herself, laughing, to be dragged to the stall. While he rumpled through the goods spread out before them. and chatted up the smiling woman who was selling her wares, his ferociously bad Italian making her smile the more, he knew it would give the body of tourists more time to walk to the landing stage and catch the ferry-service, and the twin sisters would be out of sight and out of their life.

'Never,' said Laura, some twenty minutes later, 'has so much junk been piled into so small a basket,' her bubbling laugh reassuring him that all was well, he needn't worry any more, the evil hour had passed. The launch from the Cipriani that had brought them from Venice was waiting by the landing-stage. The passengers who had arrived with them, the Americans, the man with the monocle, were already assembled. Earlier, before setting out, he had thought the price for lunch and transport, there and back, decidedly steep. Now he grudged none of it, except that the outing to Torcello itself had been one of the major errors of this particular holiday in Venice. They stepped down into the launch, finding a place in the open, and the boat chugged away down the canal and into the lagoon. The ordinary ferry had gone before, steaming towards Murano, while their own craft headed past San Francesco del Deserto and so back direct to Venice.

He put his arm around her once more, holding her close, and this time she responded, smiling up at him, her head on his shoulder.

'It's been a lovely day,' she said. 'I shall never forget it, never. You know, darling, now at last I can begin to enjoy our holiday.'

He wanted to shout with relief. It's going to be all right, he decided, let her believe what she likes, it doesn't matter, it makes her happy. The beauty of Venice rose before them, sharply outlined against the glowing sky, and there was still so much to see, wandering there together, that might now be perfect because of her change of mood, the shadow having lifted, and aloud he began to discuss the evening to come, where they would dine- not the restaurant they usually went to, near the Fenice theatre, but somewhere different, somewhere new.

'Yes, but it must be cheap,' she said, falling in with his mood, 'because we've already spent so much today.'

Their hotel by the Grand Canal had a welcoming, comforting air. The clerk smiled as he handed over their key. The bedroom was familiar, like home, with Laura's things arranged neatly on the dressing-table, but with it the little festive atmosphere of strangeness, of excitement, that only a holiday bedroom brings. This is ours for the moment, but no more. While we are in it we bring it life. When we have gone it no longer exists, it fades into anonymity. He turned on both taps in the bathroom, the water gushing into the bath, the steam rising. 'Now,' he thought afterwards, 'now at last is the moment to make love,' and he went back into the bedroom, and she understood, and opened her arms and smiled. Such blessed relief after all those weeks of restraint.

'The thing is,' she said later, fixing her ear-rings before the looking-glass, 'I'm not really terribly hungry. Shall we just be dull and eat in the dining-room here?'

'God, no!' he exclaimed. 'With all those rather dreary couple at the other tables? I'm ravenous. I'm also gay. I want to get rather sloshed.'

'Not bright lights and music, surely?'

'No, no… some small, dark, intimate cave, rather sinister, full of lovers with other people's wives.'

'H'm,' sniffed Laura, 'we all know what that means. You'll spot some Italian lovely of sixteen and smirk at her through dinner, while I'm stuck high and dry with a beastly man's broad back.'

They went out laughing into the warm soft night, and the magic was about them everywhere. 'Let's walk,' he said, 'let's walk and work up an appetite for our gigantic meal,' and inevitably they found themselves by the Molo and the lapping gondolas dancing upon the water, the lights everywhere blending with the darkness. There were other couples strolling for the same sake of aimless enjoyment, backwards, forwards, purposeless, and the inevitable sailors in groups, noisy, gesticulating, and dark-eyed girls whispering, clicking on high heels.

'The trouble is,' said Laura, 'walking in Venice becomes compulsive once you start. Just over the next bridge, you say, and then the next one beckons. I'm sure there are no restaurants down here, we're almost at those public gardens where they hold the Biennale. Let's turn back. I know there's a restaurant somewhere near the church of San Zaccaria, there's a little alley-way leading to it.'

'Tell you what,' said John, 'if we go down here by the Arsenal, and cross that bridge at the end and head left, we'll come upon San Zaccaria from the other side. We did it the other morning.'

'Yes, but it was daylight then. We may lose our way, it's not very well lit.'

'Don't fuss. I have an instinct for these things.'

They turned down the Fondamenta dell'Arsenale and crossed the little bridge short of the Arsenal itself, and so on past the church of San Martino. There were two canals ahead, one bearing right, the other left, with narrow streets beside them. John hesitated. Which one was it they had walked beside the day before?

'You see,' protested Laura, 'we shall be lost, just as I said.' 'Nonsense,' replied John firmly. 'It's the left-hand one, I remember the little bridge.'

The canal was narrow, the houses on either side seemed to close in upon it, and in the daytime, with the sun's reflection on the water and the windows of the houses open, bedding upon the balconies, a canary singing in a cage, there had been an impression of warmth, of secluded shelter. Now, almost in darkness, the windows of the houses shuttered, the water dank, the scene appeared altogether different, neglected, poor, and the long narrow boats moored to the slippery steps of cellar entrances looked like coffins.

'I swear I don't remember this bridge,' said Laura, pausing, and holding on to the rail, 'and I don't like the look of that alleyway beyond.'

'There's a lamp halfway up,' John told her. 'I know exactly where we are, not far from the Greek quarter.'

They crossed the bridge, and were about to plunge into the alley-way when they heard the cry. It came, surely, from one of the houses on the opposite side, but which one it was impossible to say. With the shutters closed each one of them seemed dead. They turned, and stared in the direction from which the sound had come.

'What was it?' whispered Laura.

'Some drunk or other,' said John briefly. 'Come on.'

Less like a drunk than someone being strangled, and the choking cry suppressed as the grip held firm.

'We ought to call the police,' said Laura.

'Oh, for heaven's sake,' said John. Where did she think she was-Piccadilly?

'Well, I'm off, it's sinister,' she replied, and began to hurry away up the twisting alley-way. John hesitated, his eye caught by a small figure which suddenly crept from a cellar entrance below one of the opposite houses, and then jumped into a narrow boat below. It was a child, a little girl she couldn't have been more than five or six-wearing a short coat over her minute skirt, a pixie hood covering her head. There were four boats moored, line upon line, and she proceeded to jump from one to the other with surprising agility, intent, it would seem, upon escape. Once her foot slipped and he caught his breath, for she was within a few feet of the water, losing balance; then she recovered, and hopped on to the furthest boat. Bending, she tugged at the rope, which had the effect of swinging the boat's after-end across the canal, almost touching the opposite side and another cellar entrance, about thirty feet from the spot where John stood watching her. Then the child jumped again, landing upon the cellar steps, and vanished into the house, the boat swinging back into mid-canal behind her. The whole episode could not have taken more than four minutes. Then he heard the quick patter of feet. Laura had returned. She had seen none of it, for which he felt unspeakably thankful. The sight of a child, a little girl, in what must have been near danger, her fear that the scene he had just witnessed was in some way a sequel to the alarming cry, might have had a disastrous effect on her overwrought nerves.

'What are you doing?' she called. 'I daren't go on without you. The wretched alley branches in two directions.'

'Sorry,' he told her. 'I'm coming.'

He took her arm and they walked briskly along the alley, John with an apparent confidence he did not possess.

'There were no more cries, were there?' she asked.

'No,' he said, 'no, nothing. I tell you, it was some drunk.'

The alley led to a deserted campo behind a church, not a church he knew, and he led the way across, along another street and over a further bridge.

'Wait a minute,' he said. 'I think we take this right-hand turning. It will lead us into the Greek quarter-the church of San Georgio is somewhere over there.'

She did not answer. She was beginning to lose faith. The place was like a maze. They might circle round and round forever, and then find themselves back again, near the bridge where they had heard the cry. Doggedly he led her on, and then surprisingly, with relief, he saw people walking in the lighted street ahead, there was a spire of a church, the surroundings became familiar.

'There, I told you,' he said. 'That's San Zaccaria, we've found it all right. Your restaurant can't be far away.'

And anyway, there would be other restaurants, somewhere to eat, at least here was the cheering glitter of lights, of movement, canals beside which people walked, the atmosphere of tourism. The letters Ristorante', in blue lights, shone like a beacon down a left-hand alley.

'Is this your place?' he asked.

'God knows,' she said. 'Who cares? Let's feed there anyway.'

And so into the sudden blast of heated air and hum of voices, the smell of pasta, wine, waiters, jostling customers, laughter. For two? This way, please.' Why, he thought, was one's British nationality always so obvious? A cramped little table and an enormous menu scribbled in an indecipherable mauve biro, with the waiter hovering, expecting the order forthwith.

'Two very large camparis, with soda,' John said. 'Then we'll study the menu.'

He was not going to be rushed. He handed the bill of fare to Laura and looked about him. Mostly Italians-that meant the food would be good. Then he saw them. At the opposite side of the room. The twin sisters. They must have come into the restaurant hard upon Laura's and his own arrival, for they were only now sitting down, shedding their coats, the waiter hovering beside the table. John was seized with the irrational thought that this was no coincidence. The sisters had noticed them both, in the street outside, and had followed them in. Why, in the name of hell, should they have picked on this particular spot, in the whole of Venice, unless… unless Laura herself, at Torcello, had suggested a further encounter, or the sister had suggested it to her? A small restaurant near the church of San Zaccaria, we go there sometimes for dinner. It was Laura, before the walk, who had mentioned San Zaccaria….

She was still intent upon the menu, she had not seen the sisters, but any moment now she would have chosen what she wanted to eat, and then she would raise her head and look across the room. If only the drinks would come. If only the waiter would bring the drinks, it would give Laura something to do.

'You know, I was thinking,' he said quickly, 'we really ought to go to the garage tomorrow and get the car, and do that drive to Padua. We could lunch in Padua, see the cathedral and touch St Antony's tomb and look at the Giotto frescoes, and come back by way of those various villas along the Brenta that the guidebook cracks up.'

It was no use, though. She was looking up, across the restaurant, and she gave a little gasp of surprise. It was genuine. He could swear it was genuine.

'Look,' she said, 'how extraordinary! How really amazing!' 'What?' he said sharply.

'Why, there they are. My wonderful old twins. They've seen us, what's more. They're staring this way.' She waved her hand, radiant, delighted. The sister she had spoken to at Torcello bowed and smiled. False old bitch, he thought. I know they followed us.

'Oh, darling, I must go and speak to them,' she said impulsively, 'just to tell them how happy I've been all day, thanks to them.'

'Oh, for heaven's sake!' he said. 'Look, here are the drinks. And we haven't ordered yet. Surely you can wait until later, until we've eaten?'

'I won't be a moment,' she said, 'and anyway I want scampi, nothing first. I told you I wasn't hungry.'

She got up, and, brushing past the waiter with the drinks, crossed the room. She might have been greeting the loved friends of years. He watched her bend over the table and shake them both by the hand, and because there was a vacant chair at their table she drew it up and sat down, talking, smiling. Nor did the sisters seem surprised, at least not the one she knew, who nodded and talked back, while the blind sister remained impassive.

'All right,' thought John savagely, 'then I will get sloshed,' and he proceeded to down his campari and soda and order another, while he pointed out something quite unintelligible on the menu as his own choice, but remembered scampi for Laura. 'And a bottle of Soave,' he added, 'with ice.'

The evening was ruined anyway. What was to have been an intimate, happy celebration would now be heavy-laden with spiritualistic visions, poor little dead Christine sharing the table with them, which was so damned stupid when in earthly life she would have been tucked up hours ago in bed. The bitter taste of the campari suited his mood of sudden self-pity, and all the while he watched the group at the table in the opposite corner, Laura apparently listening while the more active sister held forth and the blind one sat silent, her formidable sightless eyes turned in his direction.

'She's phoney,' he thought, 'she's not blind at all. They're both of them frauds, and they could be males in drag after all, just as we pretended at Torcello, and they're after Laura.'

He began on his second campari and soda. The two drinks, taken on an empty stomach, had an instant effect. Vision became blurred. And still Laura went on sitting at the other table, putting in a question now and again, while the active sister talked. The waiter appeared with the scampi, and a companion beside him to serve John's own order, which was totally unrecognisable, heaped with a livid sauce.

'The signora does not come?' enquired the first waiter, and John shook his head grimly, pointing an unsteady finger across the room.

'Tell the signora,' he said carefully, 'her scampi will get cold.'

He stared down at the offering placed before him, and prodded it delicately with a fork. The pallid sauce dissolved, revealing two enormous slices, rounds, of what appeared to be boiled pork, bedecked with garlic. He forked a portion to his mouth and chewed, and yes, it was pork, steamy, rich, the spicy sauce having turned it curiously sweet. He laid down his fork, pushing the plate away, and became aware of Laura, returning across the room and sitting beside him. She did not say anything, which was just as well, he thought, because he was too near nausea to answer. It wasn't just the drink, but reaction from the whole nightmare day. She began to eat her scampi, still not uttering. She did not seem to notice he was not eating. The waiter, hovering at his elbow, anxious, seemed aware that John's choice was somehow an error, and discreetly removed the plate. 'Bring me a green salad,' murmured John, and even then Laura did not register surprise, or, as she might have done in more normal circumstances, accuse him of having had too much to drink. Finally, when she had finished her scampi and was sipping her wine, which John had waved away, to nibble at his salad in small mouthfuls like a sick rabbit, she began to speak.

'Darling,' she said, 'I know you won't believe it, and it's rather frightening in a way, but after they left the restaurant in Torcello the sisters went to the cathedral, as we did, although we didn't see them in that crowd, and the blind one had another vision. She said Christine was trying to tell her something about us, that we should be in danger if we stayed in Venice. Christine wanted us to go away as soon as possible.'

So that's it, he thought. They think they can run our lives for us. This is to be our problem from henceforth. Do we eat? Do we get up? Do we go to bed? We must get in touch with the twin sisters. They will direct us.

'Well?' she said. 'Why don't you say something?'

'Because,' he answered, 'you are perfectly right, I don't believe it. Quite frankly, I judge your old sisters as being a couple of freaks, if nothing else. They're obviously unbalanced, and I'm sorry if this hurts you, but the fact is they've found a sucker in you.'

'You're being unfair,' said Laura. 'They are genuine, I know it. I just know it. They were completely sincere in what they said.'

'All right. Granted. They're sincere. But that doesn't make them well-balanced. Honestly, darling, you meet that old girl for ten minutes in a loo, she tells you she sees Christine sitting beside us-well, anyone with a gift for telepathy could read your unconscious mind in an instant-and then, pleased with her success, as any old psychic expert would be, she flings a further mood of ecstasy and wants to boot us out of Venice. Well, I'm sorry, but to hell with it.'

The room was no longer reeling. Anger had sobered him. If it would not put Laura to shame he would get up and cross to their table, and tell the old fools where they got off.

'I knew you would take it like this,' said Laura unhappily. 'I told them you would. They said not to worry. As long as we left Venice tomorrow everything would come all right.'

'Oh, for God's sake,' said John. He changed his mind, and poured himself a glass of wine.

'After all,' Laura went on, 'we have really seen the cream of Venice. I don't mind going on somewhere else. And if we stayed — I know it sounds silly, but I should have a nasty nagging sort of feeling inside me, and I should keep thinking of darling Christine being unhappy and trying to tell us to go.'

'Right,' said John with ominous calm, 'that settles it. Go we will. I suggest we clear off to the hotel straight away and warn the reception we're leaving in the morning. Have you had enough to eat?'

'Oh dear,' sighed Laura, 'don't take it like that. Look, why not come over and meet them, and then they can explain about the vision to you? Perhaps you would take it seriously then. Especially as you are the one it most concerns. Christine is more worried over you than me. And the extraordinary thing is that the blind sister says you're psychic and don't know it. You are somehow en rapport with the unknown, and I'm not.'

'Well, that's final,' said John. 'I'm psychic, am I? Fine. My psychic intuition tells me to get out of this restaurant now, at once, and we can decide what we do about leaving Venice when we are back at the hotel.'

He signalled to the waiter for the bill and they waited for it, not speaking to each other, Laura unhappy, fiddling with her bag, while John, glancing furtively at the twins' table, noticed that they were tucking into plates piled high with spaghetti, in very un-psychic fashion. The bill disposed of, John pushed back his chair.

'Right. Are you ready?' he asked.

'I'm going to say goodbye to them first,' said Laura, her mouth set sulkily, reminding him instantly, with a pang, of their poor lost child.

'Just as you like,' he replied, and walked ahead of her out of the restaurant, without a backward glance.

The soft humidity of the evening, so pleasant to walk about in earlier, had turned to rain. The strolling tourists had melted away. One or two people hurried by under umbrellas. This is what the inhabitants who live here see, he thought. This is the true life. Empty streets by night, the dank stillness of a stagnant canal beneath shuttered houses. The rest is a bright facade put on for show, glittering by sunlight.

Laura joined him and they walked away together in silence, and emerging presently behind the ducal palace came out into the Piazza San Marco. The rain was heavy now, and they sought shelter with the few remaining stragglers under the colonnades. The orchestras had packed up for the evening. The tables were bare. Chairs had been turned upside down.

The experts are right, he thought, Venice is sinking. The whole city is slowly dying. One day the tourists will travel here by boat to peer down into the waters, and they will see pillars and columns and marble far, far beneath them, slime and mud uncovering for brief moments a lost underworld of stone. Their heels made a ringing sound on the pavement and the rain splashed from the gutterings above. A fine ending to an evening that had started with brave hope, with innocence.

When they came to their hotel Laura made straight for the lift, and John turned to the desk to ask the night-porter for the key. The man handed him a telegram at the same time, John stared at it a moment. Laura was already in the lift. Then he opened the envelope and read the message. It was from the headmaster of Johnnie's preparatory school.

Johnnie under observation

suspected appendicitis in city hospital here.

No cause for alarm but surgeon thought wise

advise you.

Charles Hill

He read the message twice, then walked slowly towards the lift where Laura was waiting for him. He gave her the telegram. 'This came when we were out,' he said. 'Not awfully good news.' He pressed the lift button as she read the telegram. The lift stopped at the second floor, and they got out.

'Well, this decides it, doesn't it?' she said. 'Here is the proof. We have to leave Venice because we're going home. It's Johnnie who's in danger, not us. This is what Christine was trying to tell the twins.'

The first thing John did the following morning was to put a call through to the headmaster at the preparatory school. Then he gave notice of their departure to the reception manager, and they packed while they waited for the call. Neither of them referred to the events of the preceding day, it was not necessary. John knew the arrival of the telegram and the foreboding of danger from the sisters was coincidence, nothing more, but it was pointless to start an argument about it. Laura was convinced otherwise, but intuitively she knew it was best to keep her feelings to herself. During breakfast they discussed ways and means of getting home. It should be possible to get themselves, and the car, on to the special car train that ran from Milan through to Calais, since it was early in the season. In any event, the headmaster had said there was no urgency.

The call from England came while John was in the bathroom. Laura answered it. He came into the bedroom a few minutes later. She was still speaking, but he could tell from the expression in her eyes that she was anxious.

'It's Mrs Hill,' she said. 'Mr Hill is in class. She says they reported from the hospital that Johnnie had a restless night and the surgeon may have to operate, but he doesn't want to unless it's absolutely necessary. They've taken X-rays and the appendix is in a tricky position, it's not awfully straightforward.'

'Here, give it to me,' he said.

The soothing but slightly guarded voice of the headmaster's wife came down the receiver. 'I'm so sorry this may spoil your plans,' she said, 'but both Charles and I felt you ought to be told, and that you might feel rather easier if you were on the spot. Johnnie is very plucky, but of course he has some fever. That isn't unusual, the surgeon says, in the circumstances. Sometimes an appendix can get displaced, it appears, and this makes it more complicated. He's going to decide about operating this evening.'

'Yes, of course, we quite understand,' said John.

'Please do tell your wife not to worry too much,' she went on. 'The hospital is excellent, a very nice staff, and we have every confidence in the surgeon.'

'Yes,' said John, 'yes,' and then broke off because Laura was making gestures beside him.

'If we can't get the car on the train, I can fly,' she said. 'They're sure to be able to find me a seat on a plane. Then at least one of us would be there this evening.'

He nodded agreement. 'Thank you so much, Mrs Hill,' he said, 'we'll manage to get back all right. Yes, I'm sure Johnnie is in good hands. Thank your husband for us. Goodbye.'

He replaced the receiver and looked round him at the tumbled beds, suitcases on the floor, tissue-paper strewn. Baskets, maps, books, coats, everything they had brought with them in the car. 'Oh God,' he said, 'what a bloody mess. All this junk.' The telephone rang again. It was the hall porter to say he had succeeded in booking a sleeper for them both, and a place for the car, on the following night.

'Look,' said Laura, who had seized the telephone, 'could you book one seat on the midday plane from Venice to London today, for me? It's imperative one of us gets home this evening. My husband could follow with the car tomorrow.'

'Here, hang on,' interrupted John. 'No need for panic stations. Surely twenty-four hours wouldn't make all that difference?'

Anxiety had drained the colour from her face. She turned to him, distraught.

'It mightn't to you, but it does to me,' she said. 'I've lost one child, I'm not going to lose another.'

'All right, darling, all right…' He put his hand out to her but she brushed it off, impatiently, and continued giving directions to the porter. He turned back to his packing. No use saying anything. Better for it to be as she wished. They could, of course, both go by air, and then when all was well, and Johnnie better, he could come back and fetch the car, driving home through France as they had come. Rather a sweat, though, and the hell of an expense. Bad enough Laura going by air and himself with the car on the train from Milan.

'We could, if you like, both fly,' he began tentatively, explaining the sudden idea, but she would have none of it. 'That really would be absurd,' she said impatiently. 'As long as I'm there this evening, and you follow by train, it's all that matters. Besides, we shall need the car, going backwards and forwards to the hospital. And our luggage. We couldn't go off and just leave all this here.'

No, he saw her point. A silly idea. It was only-well, he was as worried about Johnnie as she was, though he wasn't going to say so.

'I'm going downstairs to stand over the porter,' said Laura. 'They always make more effort if one is actually on the spot. Everything I want tonight is packed. I shall only need my overnight case. You can bring everything else in the car.' She hadn't been out of the bedroom five minutes before the telephone rang. It was Laura. 'Darling,' she said, 'it couldn't have worked out better. The porter has got me on a charter flight that leaves Venice in less than an hour. A special motor-launch takes the party direct from San Marco in about ten minutes. Some passenger on the charter flight cancelled. I shall be at Gatwick in less than four hours.'

'I'll be down right away,' he told her.

He joined her by the reception desk. She no longer looked anxious and drawn, but full of purpose. She was on her way. He kept wishing they were going together. He couldn't bear to stay on in Venice after she had gone, but the thought of driving to Milan, spending a dreary night in a hotel there alone, the endless dragging day which would follow, and the long hours in the train the next night, filled him with intolerable depression, quite apart from the anxiety about Johnnie. They walked along to the San Marco landing-stage, the Molo bright and glittering after the rain, a little breeze blowing, the postcards and scarves and tourist souvenirs fluttering on the stalls, the tourists themselves out in force, strolling, contented, the happy day before them.

'I'll ring you tonight from Milan,' he told her. 'The Hills will give you a bed, I suppose. And if you're at the hospital they'll let me have the latest news. That must be your charter party. You're welcome to them!'

The passengers descending from the landing-stage down into the waiting launch were carrying hand-luggage with Union Jack tags upon them. They were mostly middle-aged, with what appeared to be two Methodist ministers in charge. One of them advanced towards Laura, holding out his hand, showing a gleaming row of dentures when he smiled. 'You must be the lady joining us for the homeward flight,' he said. 'Welcome aboard, and to the Union of Fellowship. We are all delighted to make your acquaintance. Sorry we hadn't a seat for hubby too.'

Laura turned swiftly and kissed John, a tremor at the corner of her mouth betraying inward laughter. 'Do you think they'll break into hymns?' she whispered. 'Take care of yourself, hubby. Call me tonight.'

The pilot sounded a curious little toot upon his horn, and in a moment Laura had climbed down the steps into the launch and was standing amongst the crowd of passengers, waving her hand, her scarlet coat a gay patch of colour amongst the more sober suiting of her companions. The launch tooted again and moved away from the landing-stage, and he stood there watching it, a sense of immense loss filling his heart. Then he turned and walked away, back to the hotel, the bright day all about him desolate, unseen.

There was nothing, he thought, as he looked about him presently in the hotel bedroom, so melancholy as a vacated room, especially when the recent signs of occupation were still visible about him. Laura's suitcases on the bed, a second coat she had left behind. Traces of powder on the dressing-table. A tissue, with a lipstick smear, thrown in the waste-paper basket. Even an old tooth-paste tube squeezed dry, lying on the glass shelf above the wash-basin. Sounds of the heedless traffic on the Grand Canal came as always from the open window, but Laura wasn't there any more to listen to it, or to watch from the small balcony. The pleasure had gone. Feeling had gone.

John finished packing, and leaving all the baggage ready to be collected he went downstairs to pay the bill. The reception clerk was welcoming new arrivals. People were sitting on the terrace overlooking the Grand Canal reading newspapers, the pleasant day waiting to be planned.

John decided to have an early lunch, here on the hotel terrace, on familiar ground, and then have the porter carry the baggage to one of the ferries that steamed direct between San Marco and the Porta Roma, where the car was garaged. The fiasco meal of the night before had left him empty, and he was ready for the trolley of hors d'oeuvres when they brought it to him, around midday. Even here, though, there was change. The head-waiter, their especial friend, was off-duty, and the table where they usually sat was occupied by new arrivals, a honeymoon couple, he told himself sourly, observing the gaiety, the smiles, while he had been shown to a small single table behind a tub of flowers.

'She's airborne now,' John thought, 'she's on her way,' and he tried to picture Laura seated between the Methodist ministers, telling them, no doubt, about Johnnie ill in hospital, and heaven knows what else besides. Well, the twin sisters anyway could rest in psychic peace. Their wishes would have been fulfilled.

Lunch over, there was no point in lingering with a cup of coffee on the terrace. His desire was to get away as soon as possible, fetch the car, and be en route for Milan. He made his farewells at the reception desk, and, escorted by a porter who had piled his baggage on to a wheeled trolley, made his way once more to the landing-stage of San Marco. As he stepped on to the steam-ferry, his luggage heaped beside him, a crowd of jostling people all about him, he had one momentary pang to be leaving Venice. When, if ever, he wondered, would they come again? Next year…. in three years…. Glimpsed first on honeymoon, nearly ten years ago, and then a second visit, en passant, before a cruise, and now this last abortive ten days that had ended so abruptly.

The water glittered in the sunshine, buildings shone, tourists in dark glasses paraded up and down the rapidly receding Molo, already the terrace of their hotel was out of sight as the ferry churned its way up the Grand Canal. So many impressions to seize and hold, familiar loved façades, balconies, windows, water lapping the cellar steps of decaying palaces, the little red house where d'Annunzio lived, with its garden our house, Laura called

it, pretending it was theirs-and too soon the ferry would be turning left on the direct route to the Piazzale Roma, so missing the best of the Canal, the Rialto, the further palaces.

Another ferry was heading downstream to pass them, filled with passengers, and for a brief foolish moment he wished he could change places, be amongst the happy tourists bound for Venice and all he had left behind him. Then he saw her. Laura, in her scarlet coat, the twin sisters by her side, the active sister with her hand on Laura's arm, talking earnestly, and Laura her.. self, her hair blowing in the wind, gesticulating, on her face a look of distress. He stared, astounded, too astonished to shout, to wave, and anyway they would never have heard or seen him, for his own ferry had already passed and was heading in the opposite direction.

What the hell had happened? There must have been a hold-up with the charter flight and it had never taken off, but in that case why had Laura not telephoned him at the hotel? And what were those damned sisters doing? Had she run into them at the airport? Was it coincidence? And why did she look so anxious? He could think of no explanation. Perhaps the flight had been cancelled. Laura, of course, would go straight to the hotel, expecting to find him there, intending, doubtless, to drive with him after all to Milan and take the train the following night. What a blasted mix-up. The only thing to do was to telephone the hotel immediately his ferry reached the Piazzale Roma and tell her to wait- he would return and fetch her. As for the damned interfering sisters, they could get stuffed.

The usual stampede ensued when the ferry arrived at the landing-stage. He had to find a porter to collect his baggage, and then wait while he discovered a telephone. The fiddling with change, the hunt for the number, delayed him still more. He succeeded at last in getting through, and luckily the reception clerk he knew was still at the desk.

'Look, there's been some frightful muddle,' he began, and explained how Laura was even now on her way back to the hotel-he had seen her with two friends on one of the ferry-services. Would the reception clerk explain and tell her to wait? He would be back by the next available service to collect her. 'In any event, detain her,' he said. 'I'll be as quick as I can.' The reception clerk understood perfectly, and John rang off.

Thank heaven Laura hadn't turned up before he had put through his call, or they would have told her he was on his way to Milan. The porter was still waiting with the baggage, and, it seemed simplest to walk with him to the garage, hand everything over to the chap in charge of the office there and ask him to keep it for an hour, when he would be returning with his wife to pick up the car. Then he went back to the landing-station to await the next ferry to Venice. The minutes dragged, and he kept wondering all the time what had gone wrong at the airport and why in heaven's name Laura hadn't telephoned. No use conjecturing. She would tell him the whole story at the hotel. One thing was certain: he would not allow Laura and himself to be saddled with the sisters and become involved with their affairs. He could imagine Laura saying that they also had missed a flight, and could they have a lift to Milan?

Finally the ferry chugged alongside the landing-stage and he stepped aboard. What an anti-climax, thrashing back past the familiar sights to which he had bidden a nostalgic farewell such a short while ago! He didn't even look about him this time, he was so intent on reaching his destination. In San Marco there were more people than ever, the afternoon crowds walking shoulder to shoulder, every one of them on pleasure bent.

He came to the hotel and pushed his way through the swing door, expecting to see Laura, and possibly the sisters, waiting in the lounge to the left of the entrance. She was not there. He went to the desk. The reception clerk he had spoken to on the telephone was standing there, talking to the manager.

'Has my wife arrived?' John asked.

'No, sir, not yet.'

'What an extraordinary thing. Are you sure?'

'Absolutely certain, sir. I have been here ever since you telephoned me at a quarter to two. I have not left the desk.'

'I just don't understand it. She was on one of the vaporettos passing by the Accademia. She would have landed at San Marco about five minutes later and come on here.'

The clerk seemed nonplussed. 'I don't know what to say. The signora was with friends, did you say?'

'Yes. Well, acquaintances. Two ladies we had met at Torcello yesterday. I was astonished to see her with them on the vaporetto, and of course I assumed that the flight had been cancelled, and she had somehow met up with them at the airport and decided to return here with them, to catch me before I left.'

Oh hell, what was Laura doing? It was after three. A matter of moments from San Marco landing-stage to the hotel.

'Perhaps the signora went with her friends to their hotel instead. Do you know where they are staying?'

'No,' said John, 'I haven't the slightest idea. What's more, I don't even know the names of the two ladies. They were sisters, twins, in fact-looked exactly alike. But anyway, why go to their hotel and not here?'

The swing-door opened but it wasn't Laura. Two people staying in the hotel.

The manager broke into the conversation. 'I tell you what I will do,' he said. 'I will telephone the airport and check about the flight. Then at least we will get somewhere.' He smiled apologetically. It was not usual for arrangements to go wrong.

'Yes, do that,' said John. 'We may as well know what happened there.'

He lit a cigarette and began to pace up and down the entrance hall. What a bloody mix-up. And how unlike Laura, who knew he would be setting off for Milan directly after lunch-indeed, for all she knew he might have gone before. But surely, in that case. she would have telephoned at once, on arrival at the airport, had the flight been cancelled? The manager was ages telephoning, he had to be put through on some other line, and his Italian was too rapid for John to follow the conversation. Finally he replaced the receiver.

'It is more mysterious than ever, sir,' he said. 'The charter flight was not delayed, it took off on schedule with a full complement of passengers. As far as they could tell me, there was no hitch. The signora must simply have changed her mind.' His smile was more apologetic than ever.

'Changed her mind,' John repeated. 'But why on earth should she do that? She was so anxious to be home tonight.'

The manager shrugged. 'You know how ladies can be, sir,' he said. 'Your wife may have thought that after all she would prefer to take the train to Milan with you. I do assure you, though, that the charter party was most respectable, and it was a Caravelle aircraft, perfectly safe.'

'Yes, yes,' said John impatiently, 'I don't blame your arrangements in the slightest. I just can't understand what induced her to change her mind, unless it was meeting with these two ladies.'

The manager was silent. He could not think of anything to say. The reception clerk was equally concerned. 'Is it possible,' he ventured, 'that you made a mistake, and it was not the signora that you saw on the vaporetto?'

'Oh no,' replied John, 'it was my wife, I assure you. She was wearing her red coat, she was hatless, just as she left here. I saw her as plainly as I can see you. I would swear to it in a court of law.'

'It is unfortunate,' said the manager, 'that we do not know the name of the two ladies, or the hotel where they were staying. You say you met these ladies at Torcello yesterday?'

'Yes… but only briefly. They weren't staying there. At least, I am certain they were not. We saw them at dinner in Venice later, as it happens.'

'Excuse me….' Guests were arriving with luggage to check in, the clerk was obliged to attend to them. John turned in desperation to the manager. 'Do you think it would be any good telephoning the hotel in Torcello in case the people there knew the name of the ladies, or where they were staying in Venice?'

'We can try,' replied the manager. 'It is a small hope, but we can try.'

John resumed his anxious pacing, all the while watching the swing-door, hoping. praying, that he would catch sight of the red coat and Laura would enter. Once again there followed what seemed an interminable telephone conversation between the manager and someone at the hotel in Torcello.

'Tell them two sisters,' said John, 'two elderly ladies dressed in grey, both exactly alike. One lady was blind,' he added. The manager nodded. He was obviously giving a detailed description. Yet when he hung up he shook his head. 'The manager at Torcello says he remembers the two ladies well,' he told John, 'but they were only there for lunch. He never learnt their names.'

'Well, that's that. There's nothing to do but wait.'

John lit his third cigarette and went.out on to the terrace, to resume his pacing there. He stared out across the canal, searching the heads of the people on passing steamers, motor-boats, even drifting gondolas. The minutes ticked by on his watch, and there was no sign of Laura. A terrible foreboding nagged at him that somehow this was prearranged, that Laura had never intended to catch the aircraft, that last night in the restaurant she had made an assignation with the sisters. Oh God, he thought, that's impossible, I'm going paranoiac…. Yet why, why? No, more likely the encounter at the airport was fortuitous, and for some incredible reason they had persuaded Laura not to board the aircraft, even prevented her from doing so, trotting out one of their psychic visions, that the aircraft would crash, that she must return with them to Venice. And Laura, in her sensitive state, felt they must be right, swallowed it all without question.

But granted all these possibilities, why had she not come to the hotel? What was she doing? Four o'clock, half-past four, the sun no longer dappling the water. He went back to the reception desk.

'I just can't hang around,' he said. 'Even if she does turn up, we shall never make Milan this evening. I might see her walking with these ladies, in the Piazza San Marco, anywhere. If she arrives while I'm out, will you explain?'

The clerk was full of concern. 'Indeed, yes,' he said 'It is very worrying for you, sir. Would it perhaps be prudent if we booked you in here tonight?'

John gestured, helplessly. 'Perhaps, yes, I don't know. Maybe…'

He went out of the swing-door and began to walk towards the

Piazza San Marco. He looked into every shop up and down the colonnades, crossed the piazza a dozen times, threaded his way between the tables in front of Florian's, in front of Quadri's, knowing that Laura's red coat and the distinctive appearance of the twin sisters could easily be spotted, even amongst this milling crowd, but there was no sign of them. He joined the crowd of shoppers in the Merceria, shoulder to shoulder with idlers, thrusters, window-gazers, knowing instinctively that it was useless, they wouldn't be here. Why should Laura have deliberately missed her flight to return to Venice for such a purpose? And even if she had done so, for some reason beyond his imagining, she would surely have come first to the hotel to find him.

The only thing left to him was to try to track down the sisters. Their hotel could be anywhere amongst the hundreds of hotels and pensions scattered through Venice, or even across the other side at the Zattere, or further again on the Giudecca. These last possibilities seemed remote. More likely they were staying in a small hotel or pension somewhere near San Zaccaria handy to the restaurant where they had dined last night. The blind one would surely not go far afield in the evening. He had been a fool not to have thought of this before, and he turned back and walked quickly away from the brightly lighted shopping district towards the narrower, more cramped quarter where they had dined last evening. He found the restaurant without difficulty, but they were not yet open for dinner, and the waiter preparing tables was not the one who had served them. John asked to see the padrone, and the waiter disappeared to the back regions, returning after a moment or two with the somewhat dishevelled-looking proprietor in shirt-sleeves, caught in a slack moment, not in full tenue.

'I had dinner here last night,' John explained. 'There were two ladies sitting at that table there in the corner.' He pointed to it.

'You wish to book that table for this evening?' asked the proprietor.

'No,' said John. 'No, there were two ladies there last night, two sisters, due sorelle, twins, gemelle'-what was the right word for twins? — Do you remember? Two ladies, sorelle vecchie

'Ah; said the man, 'si, si, signore, la povera signorina.' He put his hands to his eyes to feign blindness. 'Yes, I remember.'

'Do you know their names?' asked John. 'Where they were staying? I am very anxious to trace them.'

The proprietor spread out his hands in a gesture of regret. 'I am ver' sorry, signore, I do not know the names of the signorine, they have been here once, twice, perhaps for dinner, they do not say where they were staying. Perhaps if you come again tonight they might be here? Would you like to book a table?'

He pointed around him, suggesting a whole choice of tables that might appeal to a prospective diner, but John shook his head.

'Thank you, no. I may be dining elsewhere. I am sorry to have troubled you. If the signorine should come…' he paused, 'possibly I may return later,' he added. 'I am not sure.'

The proprietor bowed, and walked with him to the entrance. 'In Venice the whole world meets,' he said smiling. 'It is possible the signore will find his friends tonight. Arrivederci, signore.'

Friends? John walked out into the street. More likely kidnappers…. Anxiety had turned to fear, to panic. Something had gone terribly wrong. Those women had got hold of Laura, played upon her suggestibility, induced her to go with them, either to their hotel or elsewhere. Should he find the Consulate? Where was it? What would he say when he got there? He began walking without purpose, finding himself, as they had done the night before, in streets he did not know, and suddenly came upon a tall building with the word 'Questura' above it. This is it, he thought. I don't care, something has happened, I'm going inside. There were a number of police in uniform coming and going, the place at any rate was active, and, addressing himself to one of them behind a glass partition, he asked if there was anyone who spoke English. The man pointed to a flight of stairs and John went up, entering a door on the right where he saw that another couple were sitting, waiting, and with relief he recognised them as fellow-countrymen, tourists, obviously a man and his wife, in some sort of predicament.

'Come and sit down,' said the man. 'We've waited half-an-hour but they can't be much longer. What a country! They wouldn't leave us like this at home.'

John took the proffered cigarette and found a chair beside them.

'What's your trouble?' he asked.

'My wife had her handbag pinched in one of those shops in the Merceria,' said the man. 'She simply put it down one moment to look at something, and you'd hardly credit it, the next moment it had gone. I say it was a sneak thief, she insists it was the girl behind the counter. But who's to say? These Ities are all alike. Anyway, I'm certain we shan't get it back. What have you lost?'

'Suitcase stolen,' John lied rapidly. 'Had some important papers in it.'

How could he say he had lost his wife? He couldn't even begin…

The man nodded in sympathy. 'As I said, these Ities are all alike. Old Musso knew how to deal with them. Too many Communists around these days. The trouble is, they're not going to bother with our troubles much, not with this murderer at large. They're all out looking for him '

'Murderer? What murderer?' asked John.

'Don't tell me you've not heard about it?' The man stared at him in surprise. 'Venice has talked of nothing else. It's been in all the papers, on the radio, and even in the English papers. A grizzly business. One woman found with her throat slit last week-a tourist too-and some old chap discovered with the same sort of knife wound this morning. They seem to think it must be a maniac, because there doesn't seem to be any motive. Nasty thing to happen in Venice in the tourist season.'

'My wife and I never bother with the newspapers when we're on holiday,' said John. 'And we're neither of us much given to gossip in the hotel.'

'Very wise of you,' laughed the man. 'It might have spoilt your holiday, especially if your wife is nervous. Oh well, we're off tomorrow anyway. Can't say we mind, do we, dear?' He turned to his wife. 'Venice has gone downhill since we were here last. And now this loss of the handbag really is the limit.'

The door of the inner room opened, and a senior police officer asked John's companion and his wife to pass through.

'I bet we don't get any satisfaction,' murmured the tourist, winking at John, and he and his wife went into the inner room. The door closed behind them. John stubbed out his cigarette and lighted another. A strange feeling of unreality possessed him. He asked himself what he was doing here, what was the use of it? Laura was no longer in Venice but had disappeared, perhaps forever, with those diabolical sisters. She would never be traced. And just as the two of them had made up a fantastic story about the twins, when they first spotted them in Torcello, so, with nightmare logic, the fiction would have basis in fact; the women were in reality disguised crooks, men with criminal intent who lured unsuspecting persons to some appalling fate. They might even be the murderers for whom the police sought. Who would ever suspect two elderly women of respectable appearance, living quietly in some second-rate pension or hotel? He stubbed out his cigarette, unfinished.

'This,' he thought, 'is really the start of paranoia. This is the way people go off their heads.' He glanced at his watch. It was half-past six. Better pack this in, this futile quest here in police headquarters, and keep to the single link of sanity remaining. Return to the hotel, put a call through to the prep school in England, and ask about the latest news of Johnnie. He had not thought about poor Johnnie since sighting Laura on the vaporetto.

Too late, though. The inner door opened, the couple were ushered out.

'Usual clap-trap,' said the husband sotto voce to John. 'They'll do what they can. Not much hope. So many foreigners in Venice, all of 'em thieves! The locals all above reproach. Wouldn't pay 'em to steal from customers. Well, I wish you better luck.'

He nodded, his wife smiled and bowed, and they had gone. John followed the police officer into the inner room.

Formalities began. Name, address, passport. Length of stay in Venice, etc., etc. Then the questions, and John, the sweat beginning to appear on his forehead, launched into his interminable story. The first encounter with the sisters, the meeting at the restaurant, Laura's state of suggestibility because of the death of their child, the telegram about Johnnie, the decision to take the chartered flight, her departure, and her sudden inexplicable return. When he had finished he felt as exhausted as if he had driven three hundred miles non-stop after a severe bout of 'flu. His interrogator spoke excellent English with a strong Italian accent.

'You say,' he began, 'that your wife was suffering the after-effects of shock. This had been noticeable during your stay here in Venice?'

'Well, yes,' John replied, 'she had really been quite ill. The holiday didn't seem to be doing her much good. It was only when she met these two women at Torcello yesterday that her mood changed. The strain seemed to have gone. She was ready, I suppose, to snatch at every straw, and this belief that our little girl was watching over her had somehow restored her to what appeared normality.'

'It would be natural,' said the police officer, 'in the circumstances. But no doubt the telegram last night was a further shock to you both?'

'Indeed, yes. That was the reason we decided to return home.'

'No argument between you? No difference of opinion?'

'None. We were in complete agreement. My one regret was that I could not go with my wife on this charter flight.'

The police officer nodded. 'It could well be that your wife had a sudden attack of amnesia, and meeting the two ladies served as a link, she clung to them for support. You have described them with great accuracy, and I think they should not be too difficult to trace. Meanwhile, I suggest you should return to your hotel, and we will get in touch with you as soon as we have news.'

At least, John thought, they believed his story. They did not consider him a crank who had made the whole thing up and was merely wasting their time.

'You appreciate,' he said, 'I am extremely anxious. These women may have some criminal design upon my wife. One has heard of such things….'

The police officer smiled for the first time. 'Please don't concern yourself,' he said. 'I am sure there will be some satisfactory explanation.'

All very well, thought John, but in heaven's name, what?

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'to have taken up so much of your time. Especially as I gather the police have their hands full hunting down a murderer who is still at large.'

He spoke deliberately. No harm in letting the fellow know that for all any of them could tell there might be some connection between Laura's disappearance and this other hideous affair.

'Ah, that,' said the police officer, rising to his feet. 'We hope to have the murderer under lock and key very soon.'

His tone of confidence was reassuring. Murderers, missing wives, lost handbags were all under control. They shook hands, and John was ushered out of the door and so downstairs. Perhaps, he thought, as he walked slowly back to the hotel, the fellow was right. Laura had suffered a sudden attack of amnesia, and the sisters happened to be at the airport and had brought her back to Venice, to their own hotel, because Laura couldn't remember where she and John had been staying. Perhaps they were even now trying to track down his hotel. Anyway, he could do nothing more. The police had everything in hand, and, please God, would come up with the solution. All he wanted to do right now was to collapse upon a bed with a stiff whisky, and then put through a call to Johnnie's school.

The page took him up in the lift to a modest room on the fourth floor at the rear of the hotel. Bare, impersonal, the shutters closed, with a smell of cooking wafting up from a courtyard down below.

'Ask them to send me up a double whisky, will you?' he said to the boy. 'And a ginger-ale,' and when he was alone he plunged his face under the cold tap in the wash-basin, relieved to find that the minute portion of visitor's soap afforded some measure of comfort. He flung off his shoes, hung his coat over the back of a chair and threw himself down on the bed. Somebody's radio was blasting forth an old popular song, now several seasons out-of-date, that had been one of Laura's favourites a couple of years ago. 'I love you, Baby…' He reached for the telephone, and asked the exchange to put through the call to England. Then he closed his eyes, and all the while the insistent voice persisted, 'I love you, Baby… I can't get you out of my mind.'

Presently there was a tap at the door. It was the waiter with his drink. Too little ice, such meagre comfort, but what desperate need. He gulped it down without the ginger-ale, and in a few moments the ever-nagging pain was eased, numbed, bringing, if only momentarily, a sense of calm. The telephone rang, and now, he thought, bracing himself for ultimate disaster, the final shock, Johnnie probably dying, or already dead. In which case nothing remained. Let Venice be engulfed….

The exchange told him that the connection had been made, and in a moment he heard the voice of Mrs Hill at the other end of the line. They must have warned her that the call came from Venice, for she knew instantly who was speaking.

'Hullo?' she said. 'Oh, I am so glad you rang. All is well. Johnnie has had his operation, the surgeon decided to do it at midday rather than wait, and it was completely successful. Johnnie is going to be all right. So you don't have to worry any more, and will have a peaceful night.'

'Thank God,' he answered.

'I know,' she said, 'we are all so relieved. Now I'll get off the line and you can speak to your wife.'

John sat up on the bed, stunned. What the hell did she mean? Then he heard Laura's voice, cool and clear.

'Darling? Darling, are you there?'

He could not answer. He felt the hand holding the receiver go clammy cold with sweat. 'I'm here,' he whispered.

'It's not a very good line,' she said, 'but never mind. As Mrs Hill told you, all is well. Such a nice surgeon, and a very sweet Sister on Johnnie's floor, and I really am happy about the way it's turned out. I came straight down here after landing at Gatwick-the flight O.K., by the way, but such a funny crowd, it'll make you hysterical when I tell you about them-and I went to the hospital, and Johnnie was coming round. Very dopey, of course, but so pleased to see me. And the Hills are being wonderful, I've got their spare-room, and it's only a short taxi-drive into the town and the hospital. I shall go to bed as soon as we've had dinner, because I'm a bit fagged, what with the flight and the anxiety. How was the drive to Milan? And where are you staying?'

John did not recognise the voice that answered as his own. It was the automatic response of some computer.

'I'm not in Milan,' he said. 'I'm still in Venice.'

'Still in Venice? What on earth for? Wouldn't the car start?' can't explain,' he said. 'There was a stupid sort of mix-up….'

He felt suddenly so exhausted that he nearly dropped the receiver, and, shame upon shame, he could feel tears pricking behind his eyes.

'What sort of mix-up?' Her voice was suspicious, almost hostile. 'You weren't in a crash?'

'No… no… nothing like that.'

A moment's silence, and then she said, 'Your voice sounds very slurred. Don't tell me you went and got pissed.'

Oh Christ… If she only knew! He was probably going to pass out any moment, but not from the whisky.

'I thought,' he said slowly, thought I saw you, in a vaporetto, with those two sisters.'

What was the point of going on? It was hopeless trying to explain.

'How could you have seen me with the sisters?' she said. 'You knew I'd gone to the airport. Really, darling, you are an idiot. You seem to have got those two poor old dears on the brain. I hope you didn't say anything to Mrs Hill just now.'

'No.'

'Well, what are you going to do? You'll catch the train at Milan tomorrow, won't you?'

'Yes, of course,' he told her.

'I still don't understand what kept you in Venice,' she said. 'It all sounds a bit odd to me. However… thank God Johnnie is going to be all right and I'm here.'

'Yes,' he said, 'yes.'

He could hear the distant boom-boom sound of a gong from the headmaster's hall.

'You had better go,' he said. 'My regards to the Hills, and my love to Johnnie.'

'Well, take care of yourself, darling, and for goodness' sake don't miss the train tomorrow, and drive carefully.'

The telephone clicked and she had gone. He poured the remaining drop of whisky into his empty glass, and sousing it with ginger-ale drank it down at a gulp. He got up, and crossing the room threw open the shutters and leant out of the window. He felt light-headed. His sense of relief, enormous, overwhelming, was somehow tempered with a curious feeling of unreality, almost as though the voice speaking from England had not been Laura's after all but a fake, and she was still in Venice, hidden in some furtive pension with the two sisters.

The point was, he had seen all three of them on the vaporetto. It was not another woman in a red coat. The women had been there, with Laura. So what was the explanation? That he was going of his head? Or something more sinister? The sisters, possessing psychic powers of formidable strength, had seen him as their two ferries had passed, and in some inexplicable fashion had made him believe Laura was with them. But why, and to what end? No, it didn't make sense. The only explanation was that he had been mistaken, the whole episode an hallucination. In which case he needed psychoanalysis, just as Johnnie had needed a surgeon.

And what did he do now? Go downstairs and tell the management he had been at fault and had just spoken to his wife, who had arrived in England safe and sound from her charter flight? He put on his shoes and ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes to eight. If he nipped into the bar and had a quick drink it would be easier to face the manager and admit what had happened. Then, perhaps, they would get in touch with the police. Profuse apologies all round for putting everyone to enormous trouble.

He made his way to the ground floor and went straight to the bar, feeling self-conscious, a marked man, half-imagining everyone would look at him, thinking, 'There's the fellow with the missing wife.' Luckily the bar was full and there wasn't a face he knew. Even the chap behind the bar was an underling who hadn't served him before. He downed his whisky and glanced over his shoulder to the reception hall. The desk was momentarily empty. He could see the manager's back framed in the doorway of an inner room, talking to someone within. On impulse, coward-like, he crossed the hall and passed through the swing-door to the street outside.

'I'll have some dinner,' he decided, 'and then go back and face them. I'll feel more like it once I've some food inside me.'

He went to the restaurant nearby where he and Laura had dined once or twice. Nothing mattered any more, because she was safe. The nightmare lay behind him. He could enjoy his dinner, despite her absence, and think of her sitting down with the Hills to a dull, quiet evening, early to bed, and on the following morning going to the hospital to sit with Johnnie. Johnnie was safe, too. No more worries, only the awkward explanations and apologies to the manager at the hotel.

There was a pleasant anonymity sitting down at a corner table alone in the little restaurant, ordering vitello alla Marsala and half a bottle of Merlot. He took his time, enjoying his food but eating in a kind of haze, a sense of unreality still with him, while the conversation of his nearest neighbours had the same soothing effect as background music.

When they rose and left, he saw by the clock on the wall that it was nearly half-past nine. No use delaying matters any further. He drank his coffee, lighted a cigarette and paid his bill. After all, he thought, as he walked back to the hotel, the manager would be greatly relieved to know that all was well.

When he pushed through the swing-door, the first thing he noticed was a man in police uniform, standing talking to the manager at the desk. The reception clerk was there too. They turned as John approached, and the manager's face lighted up with relief.

'Eccolo!' he exclaimed. 'I was certain the signore would not be far away. Things are moving, signore. The two ladies have been traced, and they very kindly agreed to accompany the police to the Questura. If you will go there at once, this agente di polizia will escort you.'

John flushed. 'I have given everyone a lot of trouble,' he said. 'I meant to tell you before going out to dinner, but you were not at the desk. The fact is that I have contacted my wife. She did make the flight to London after all, and I spoke to her on the telephone. It was all a great mistake.'

The manager looked bewildered. 'The signora is in London?' he repeated. He broke off, and exchanged a rapid conversation in Italian with the policeman. 'It seems that the ladies maintain they did not go out for the day, except for a little shopping in the morning,' he said, turning back to John. 'Then who was it the signore saw on the vaporetto?'

John shook his head. 'A very extraordinary mistake on my part which I still don't understand,' he said. 'Obviously, I did not see either my wife or the two ladies. I really am extremely sorry.'

More rapid conversation in Italian. John noticed the clerk watching him with a curious expression in his eyes. The manager was obviously apologising on John's behalf to the policeman, who looked annoyed and gave tongue to this effect, his voice increasing in volume, to the manager's concern. The whole business had undoubtedly given enormous trouble to a great many people, not least the two unfortunate sisters.

'Look,' said John, interrupting the flow, 'will you tell the agente I will go with him to headquarters and apologise in person both to the police officer and to the ladies?'

The manager looked relieved. 'If the signore would take the trouble,' he said. 'Naturally, the ladies were much distressed when a policeman interrogated them at their hotel, and they offered to accompany him to the Questura only because they were so distressed about the signora.'

John felt more and more uncomfortable. Laura must never learn any of this. She would be outraged. He wondered if there were some penalty for giving the police misleading information involving a third party. His error began, in retrospect, to take on criminal proportions.

He crossed the Piazza San Marco, now thronged with after-dinner strollers and spectators at the cafés, all three orchestras going full blast in harmonious rivalry, while his companion kept a discreet two paces to his left and never uttered a word.

They arrived at the police station and mounted the stairs to the same inner room where he had been before. He saw immediately that it was not the officer he knew but another who sat behind the desk, a sallow-faced individual with a sour expression, while the two sisters, obviously upset the active one in particular-were seated on chairs nearby, some underling in uniform standing behind them. John's escort went at once to the police officer, speaking in rapid Italian, while John himself, after a moment's hesitation, advanced towards the sisters.

'There has been a terrible mistake,' he said. 'I don't know how to apologise to you both. It's all my fault, mine entirely, the police are not to blame.'

The active sister made as though to rise, her mouth twitching nervously, but he restrained her.

'We don't understand,' she said, the Scots inflection strong. 'We said goodnight to your wife last night at dinner, and we have not seen her since. The police came to our pension more than an hour ago and told us your wife was missing and you had filed a complaint against us. My sister is not very strong. She was considerably disturbed.'

'A mistake. A frightful mistake,' he repeated.

He turned towards the desk. The police officer was addressing him, his English very inferior to that of the previous interrogator. He had John's earlier statement on the desk in front of him, and tapped it with a pencil.

'So?' he queried. 'This document all lies? You not speaka the truth?'

'I believed it to be true at the time,' said John. 'I could have sworn in a court of law that I saw my wife with these two ladies on a vaporetto in the Grand Canal this afternoon. Now I realise I was mistaken.'

'We have not been near the Grand Canal all day,' protested the sister, 'not even on foot. We made a few purchases in the Merceria this morning, and remained indoors all afternoon. My sister was a little unwell. I have told the police officer this a dozen times, and the people at the pension would corroborate our story. He refused to listen.'

'And the signora?' rapped the police officer angrily. 'What happen to the signora?'

'The signora, my wife, is safe in England,' explained John patiently. 'I talked to her on the telephone just after seven. She did join the charter flight from the airport, and is now staying with friends.'

'Then who you see on the vaporetto in the red coat?' asked the furious police officer. 'And if not these signorine here, then what signorine?'

'My eyes deceived me,' said John, aware that his English was likewise becoming strained. 'I think I see my wife and these ladies but no, it was not so. My wife in aircraft, these ladies in pension all the time.'

It was like talking stage Chinese. In a moment he would be bowing and putting his hands in his sleeves.

The police officer raised his eyes to heaven and thumped the table. 'So all this work for nothing,' he said. 'Hotels and pensiones searched for the signorine and a missing signora inglese, when here we have plenty, plenty other things to do. You maka a mistake. You have perhaps too much vino at mezzo giorno and you see hundred signore in red coats in hundred vaporetti.' He stood up, rumpling the papers on his desk. 'And you, signorine,' he said, 'you wish to make complaint against this person?' He was addressing the active sister.

'Oh no,' she said, 'no, indeed. I quite see it was all a mistake. Our only wish is to return at once to our pension.'

The police officer grunted. Then he pointed at John. 'You very lucky man,' he said. 'These signorine could file complaint against you-very serious matter.'

'I'm sure,' began John, 'I'll do anything in my power…' 'Please don't think of it,' exclaimed the sister, horrified. 'We would not hear of such a thing.' It was her turn to apologise to the police officer. 'I hope we need not take up any more of your valuable time,' she said.

He waved a hand of dismissal and spoke in Italian to the underling. 'This man walk with you to the pension,' he said. 'Buona sera, signorine,' and, ignoring John, he sat down again at his desk.

'I'll come with you,' said John. 'I want to explain exactly what happened.'

They trooped down the stairs and out of the building, the blind sister leaning on her twin's arm, and once outside she turned her sightless eyes to John.

'You saw us,' she said, 'and your wife too. But not today. You saw us in the future.'

Her voice was softer than her sister's, slower, she seemed to have some slight impediment in her speech.

'I don't follow,' replied John, bewildered.

He turned to the active sister and she shook her head at him, frowning, and put her finger on her lips.

'Come along, dear,' she said to her twin. 'You know you're very tired, and I want to get you home.' Then, sotto voce to John, 'She's psychic. Your wife told you, I believe, but I don't want her to go into trances here in the street.'

God forbid, thought John, and the little procession began to move slowly along the street, away from police headquarters, a canal to the left of them. Progress was slow, because of the blind sister, and there were two bridges. John was completely lost after the first turning, but it couldn't have mattered less. Their police escort was with them, and anyway, the sisters knew where they were going.

'I must explain,' said John softly. 'My wife would never forgive me if I didn't,' and as they walked he went over the whole inexplicable story once again, beginning with the telegram received the night before and the conversation with Mrs Hill, the decision to return to England the following day, Laura by air, and John himself by car and train. It no longer sounded as dramatic as it had done when he had made his statement to the police officer, when, possibly because of his conviction of something uncanny, the description of the two vaporettos passing one another in the middle of the Grand Canal had held a sinister quality, suggesting abduction on the part of the sisters, the pair of them holding a bewildered Laura captive. Now that neither of the women had any further menace for him he spoke more naturally, yet with great sincerity, feeling for the first time that they were somehow both in sympathy with him and would understand.

'You see,' he explained, in a final endeavour to make amends for having gone to the police in the first place, 'I truly believed I had seen you with Laura, and I thought…' he hesitated, because this had been the police officer's suggestion and not his, 'I thought that perhaps Laura had some sudden loss of memory, had met you at the airport, and you had brought her back to Venice to wherever you were staying.'

They had crossed a large square and were approaching a house at one end of it, with a sign Perisione' above the door. Their escort paused at the entrance.

'Is this it?' asked John.

'Yes,' said the sister. 'I know it is nothing much from the outside, but it is clean and comfortable, and was recommended by friends.' She turned to the escort. 'Grazie,' she said to him, 'grazie tanto.'

The man nodded briefly, wished them 'Buona notte,' and disappeared across the campo.

'Will you come in?' asked the sister. 'I am sure we can find you some coffee, or perhaps you prefer tea?'

'No, really,' John thanked her, 'I must get back to the hotel. I'm making an early start in the morning. I just want to make quite sure you do understand what happened, and that you forgive me.'

'There is nothing to forgive,' she replied. It is one of the many examples of second sight that my sister and I have experienced time and time again, and I should very much like to record it for our files, if you will permit it.'

'Well, as to that, of course,' he told her, 'but I myself find it hard to understand. It has never happened to me before.'

'Not consciously, perhaps,' she said, 'but so many things happen to us of which we are not aware. My sister felt you had psychic understanding. She told your wife. She also told your wife, last night in the restaurant, that you were to experience trouble, danger, that you should leave Venice. Well, don't you believe now that the telegram was proof of this? Your son was ill, possibly dangerously ill, and so it was necessary for you to return home immediately. Heaven be praised your wife flew home to be by his side.'

'Yes, indeed,' said John, 'but why should I see her on the vaporetto with you and your sister when she was actually on her way to England?'

'Thought transference, perhaps,' she answered. 'Your wife may have been thinking about us. We gave her our address, should you wish to get in touch with us. We shall be here another ten days. And she knows that we would pass on any message that my sister might have from your little one in the spirit world.'

'Yes,' said John awkwardly, 'yes, I see. It's very good of you.' He had a sudden rather unkind picture of the two sisters putting on headphones in their bedroom, listening for a coded message from poor Christine. 'Look, this is our address in London,' he said. 'I know Laura will be pleased to hear from you.'

He scribbled their address on a sheet torn from his pocket-diary, even, as a bonus thrown in, the telephone number, and handed it to her. He could imagine the outcome. Laura springing it on him one evening that the 'old dears' were passing through London on their way to Scotland, and the least they could do was to offer them hospitality, even the spare-room for the night. Then a seance in the living-room, tambourines appearing out of thin air.

'Well, I must be off,' he said. 'Goodnight, and apologies, once again, for all that has happened this evening.' He shook hands with the first sister, then turned to her blind twin. 'I hope,' he said, 'that you are not too tired.'

The sightless eyes were disconcerting. She held his hand fast and would not let it go. 'The child,' she said, speaking in an odd staccato voice, 'the child… I can see the child…' and then, to his dismay, a bead of froth appeared at the corner of her mouth, her head jerked back, and she half-collapsed in her sister's arms.

'We must get her inside,' said the sister hurriedly. 'It's all right, she's not ill, it's the beginning of a trance state.'

Between them they helped the twin, who had gone rigid, into the house, and set her down on the nearest chair, the sister supporting her. A woman came running from some inner room. There was a strong smell of spaghetti from the back regions. 'Don't worry,' said the sister, 'the signorina and I can manage. I think you had better go. Sometimes she is sick after these turns.'

'I'm most frightfully sorry…' John began, but the sister had already turned her back, and with the signorina was bending over her twin, from whom peculiar choking sounds were proceeding. He was obviously in the way, and after a final gesture of courtesy, 'Is there anything I can do?', which received no reply, he turned on his heel and began walking across the square. He looked back once, and saw they had closed the door.

What a finale to the evening! And all his fault. Poor old girls, first dragged to police headquarters and put through an interrogation, and then a psychic fit on top of it all. More likely epilepsy. Not much of a life for the other sister, but she seemed to take it in her stride. An additional hazard, though, if it happened in a restaurant or in the street. And not particularly welcome under his and Laura's roof should the sisters ever find themselves beneath it, which he prayed would never happen.

Meanwhile, where the devil was he? The square, with the inevitable church at one end, was quite deserted. He could not remember which way they had come from police headquarters, there had seemed to be so many turnings.

Wait a minute, the church itself had a familiar appearance. He drew nearer to it, looking for the name which was sometimes on notices at the entrance. San Giovanni in Bragora, that rang a bell. He and. Laura had gone inside one morning to look at a painting by Cima da Conegliano. Surely it was only a stone's throw from the Riva degli Schiavoni and the open wide waters of the San Marco lagoon, with all the bright lights of civilization and the strolling tourists? He remembered taking a small turning from the Schiavoni and they had arrived at the church. Wasn't that the alley-way ahead? He plunged along it, but halfway down he hesitated. It didn't seem right, although it was familiar for some unknown reason.

Then he realised that it was not the alley they had taken the morning they visited the church, but the one they had walked along the previous evening, only he was approaching it from the opposite direction. Yes, that was it, in which case it would be quicker to go on and cross the little bridge over the narrow canal, and he would find the Arsenal on his left and the street leading down to the Riva degli Schiavoni to his right. Simpler than retracing his steps and getting lost once more in the maze of back streets.

He had almost reached the end of the alley, and the bridge was in sight, when he saw the child. It was the same little girl with the pixie-hood who had leapt between the tethered boats the preceding night and vanished up the cellar steps of one of the houses. This time she was running from the direction of the church the other side, making for the bridge. She was running as if her life depended on it, and in a moment he saw why. A man was in pursuit, who, when she glanced backwards for a moment, still running, flattened himself against a wall, believing himself unobserved. The child came on, scampering across the bridge, and John, fearful of alarming her further, backed into an open doorway that led into a small court.

He remembered the drunken yell of the night before which had come from one of the houses near where the man was hiding now. This is it, he thought, the fellow's after her again, and with a flash of intuition he connected the two events, the child's terror then and now, and the murders reported in the newspapers, supposedly the work of some madman. It could be coincidence, a child running from a drunken relative, and yet, and yet… His heart began thumping in his chest, instinct warning him to run himself, now, at once, back along the alley the way he had come-but what about the child? What was going to happen to the child?

Then he heard her running steps. She hurtled through the open doorway into the court in which he stood, not seeing him, making for the rear of the house that flanked it, where steps led presumably to a back entrance. She was sobbing as she ran, not the ordinary cry of a frightened child, but the panic-stricken intake of breath of a helpless being in despair. Were there parents in the house who would protect her, whom he could warn? He hesitated a moment, then followed her down the steps and through the door at the bottom, which had burst open at the touch of her hands as she hurled herself against it.

'It's all right,' he called. 'I won't let him hurt you, it's all right,' cursing his lack of Italian, but possibly an English voice might reassure her. But it was no use-she ran sobbing up another flight of stairs, which were spiral, twisting, leading to the floor above, and already it was too late for him to retreat. He could hear sounds of the pursuer in the courtyard behind, someone shouting in Italian, a dog barking. This is it, he thought, we're in it together, the child and I. Unless we can bolt some inner door above he'll get us both.

He ran up the stairs after the child, who had darted into a room leading off a small landing, and followed her inside and slammed the door, and, merciful heaven, there was a bolt which he rammed into its socket. The child was crouching by the open window. If he shouted for help someone would surely hear, someone would surely come before the man in pursuit threw himself against the door and it gave, because there was no one but themselves, no parents, the room was bare except for a mattress on an old bed, and a heap of rags in one corner.

'It's all right,' he panted, 'it's all right,' and held out his hand, trying to smile.

The child struggled to her feet and stood before him, the pixie-hood falling from her head on to the floor. He stared at her, incredulity turning to horror, to fear. It was not a child at all but a little thick-set woman dwarf, about three feet high, with a great square adult head too big for her body, grey locks hanging shoulder-length, and she wasn't sobbing any more, she was grinning at him, nodding her head up and down.

Then he heard the footsteps on the landing outside and the hammering on the door, and a barking dog, and not one voice but several voices, shouting, 'Open up! Police!' The creature fumbled in her sleeve, drawing a knife, and as she threw it at him with hideous strength, piercing his throat, he stumbled and fell, the sticky mess covering his protecting hands.

And he saw the vaporetto with Laura and the two sisters steaming down the Grand Canal, not today, not tomorrow, but the day after that, and he knew why they were together and for what sad purpose they had come. The creature was gibbering in its corner. The hammering and the voices and the barking dog grew fainter, and, 'Oh God,' he thought, 'what a bloody silly way to die….'

[agl03]

Okay I'm totally going to need you to convince me how this is going to be okay because right now I actually feel pretty sick. I don't see how they have enough time once they leave the framework for Fitz to deal with this trauma. Fitz has killed a woman now, even if he wasn't aware he was doing it. And if he tortures Daisy, I just don't think I can watch that. To come out and have their happy engagement would be wrong and rushed. When do they get to heal? Where is the payoff???

Hi Anon!  And anyone else who needs this…

Its Going to be Okay!

This story isn’t supposed to be happy or fun, we are in a reality built by a crazy, evil book influenced, programmed by the questionable Dr. Radcliffe, and obsessed with becoming a real girl AIDA here.  She has twisted each and every single character.  Fitz and May more than anyone else. 

I’m just going to run down my major points here.  I hope it helps.  Again I am not ashamed to say that I am still enjoying this arc.  Its uncomfortable and frustrating as all get out.  But it has me rooting SO HARD for Fitzsimmons right now.  For the entire team right now. 

Fitz partly a distraction:

We all know that something the writers do is the fake out.   They have us looking at and focused on one thing so we literally don’t see the truck that is coming at us from left field.   Season 2 for example.  When Real Shield made their move it looked like they were our big bad of the season, that would be the arc.  When in fact it was Jaiying and the Inhumans that were the bigger threat.  So right now they have the fandom so wrapped up in Fitz….that we are ‘missing’ that thing over in left field about to hit us.  A betrayal is coming guys and its going to hurt.

Fitz has been brainwashed:

This is not our Fitz.  Period.  Iain said at Wondercon that they were two different people.  Two different characters.  Radcliffe said when talking to him, he talked about our Fitz as a different person, because he was.   We saw over and over throughout the episode AIDA manipulate him.  I see things like taking his hand, asking for him to protect her, of vocalizing they are trying to take him from her as the triggers.  You know how we know he’s been brainwashed…how down right TERRIFIED AIDA was of Radcliffe talking to him.  That Jemma was taken out of the picture even before she could be a factor in his life.  That AIDA boasted that she had manipulated this world and those in it to meet her needs and wants.  Yes, she fixed a regret but each regret built on her fantasy.

With Fitz this goes well beyond fixing a regret.  I still believe that initially making him the son his father wanted was just step one in AIDA’s process.  AIDA took him as her own. 

Everyone is Dark:

We’re not done yet here guys.  We have more oh please no moment coming with everyone coming.   And yes, Fitz is one of the most drastically different and one they are making sure to highlight but I am uncomfortable with everyone.

Coulson:  Yes he’s breaking thanks to Tahiti but he still let Hydra take off with one of his own students.  The big reason I think we have Coulson back is he is getting that “you did make a difference/Shield needs you arc here”.   Mace is not the leader that Shield needs…he wasn’t in the real world and he won’t be here. 

Mace:  I am really worried about this version of Mace.   While he is doing the right thing I’m afraid he’s going to do some things in that quest that aren’t good.  Not to mention that he is a massive threat to the lives of May and Fitz.  He will kill either one of them given a chance.  He almost reminds me of Jaiying a little here with the “One of us” comment from the promo especially makes me thing of this.

Mack:  He will do ANYTHING to protect his daughter (and low key worried how he found the Resistance so easily here guys).  He sold out Daisy.  But what was very interesting was his view on Inhumans.  When we first met Mack he was ‘against’ them for lack of a better word.  It was work with Daisy, Coulson, and Shield that helped him change his mind and become one of their greatest protectors.

May:  Has been twisted as much as Fitz has.  She has been in there the longest.  Gone through the most ‘reboots’ of the Framework.  It was her team that beat up Daisy.  It was her that manipulated Mack using Hope. She is number 3 in Hydra and is a huge threat to her own team as well as a target.

Ward:  So leery of Ward.  I really fear Jemma will be who he betrays again.  And its also interesting he could have gotten a shot on Madame Hydra there…#1….instead aimed for Fitz Hydras #2.  Just saying guys…our master manipulators might be at work again here.  For him if it comes down to giving up Jemma to save Skye…he’s going to give up Jemma to save Skye.  Just as Mack gave up Daisy to save Hope.

They are their own worst enemies: 

AIDA is likely the worst villain they have gone up against, a horrid culmination of everyone they have faced before.  She isn’t dumb she built this world for HER.  She is using loopholes to her advantage.  Otherwise I firmly feel that everyone but Fitz would already be dead.  So since she had to keep them alive she manipulated (even bragged to Radcliffe that she’d done it) those regrets for her gain.

She also has been in everyone’s heads.  She’s been around the team before. She knows they are the biggest threat to her when they are working together as a team.   So she either split them up or turned them on each other. 

She has also made them each others dragons.  It is clear now AIDA is in Madame Hydra.  She knows right where Mace and the Playground is but allows the Resistance to continue because it feeds into the manipulation.  Especially with Fitz, its another thing he has to protect her from.

I discussed in my meta last night that AIDA seems to be trying to make it so the team won’t ‘want’ to save Fitz (more lies, more manipulation).   Here he’s The Doctor, Mace won’t bat and eye if he can kill him  Isn’t going to give Jemma the resources she needs to get him alive.  AIDA has painted Jemma as the villain.  Leaving Jemma pretty much alone now in trying to save him (oh look another parallel).  She has Coulson for now but I’m betting he will be pulled away too soon by saving Daisy or getting to May.

She took Fitz as her own:

A lot of what AIDA has done was to build this world how she wanted.  To get who and what she wanted, and she wanted Fitz.  Someone who would love and protect her.  Made her happy.  Her interaction with Radcliffe very telling.  We said that Fitz treating her like a person would come back…and boy has it ever.  She also wanted someone that loved and protected her like Fitz did with Jemma…so she took Jemma’s place.  May too, she’s ‘rewarded’ May with a high position because I believe May respected her, liked her, called her brave.

But in taking Fitz in so many ways we really do have an epic love story set up here.   Jemma is going to have to fight to get him back.  I feel like part of that whole spectacle on the island with Agnes was for show.  That AIDA knew Jemma was there  set up that whole thing with Agnes so Fitz would see it.  Try to shake Jemma, make her think that he was too far gone,.  It also took away the little support Jemma had found.  Leaving her alone in trying to save him.  AIDA is scared as heck of Jemma and her saving him.

AIDA also doesn’t have him fully yet.   Fitz says he would cross the universe for her but he HAS done it for Jemma.

Fitz is in there:

In the horror of feels that was last night we saw Fitz peeking through more than once.  And every single time we saw it it was because Jemma was in the mix either in person or in a picture.  And only with Jemma, May, Daisy, and Radcliffe had no effect (though Radcliffe planted seeds, very important seeds). 

Aside for Coulson who is aided by Tahiti we haven’t seen anyone else ‘break through” at all. 

May:  Came into contact with Fitz, Daisy, and Mack…nothing. 

Mace:  Came into contact with Jemma, Mack, and Coulson…nothing.

Mack:  Came into contact with Daisy, May, Mace, and Coulson…nothing.

Engagement is Endgame:

When we look back at interviews from Loeb, Jed, and Mo they have been hinting at this arc all season.  And they have been setting up an engagement for Fitzsimmons all season too. 

“This young man as you have never seen him before” that was what Leob said at SDCC and also where we first heard the ‘reward’ talk.  And we have seen them pay off everything so far. And coupled with the timing of Jed’s quote in EW, engagement coming up in 15, hints all season, and getting their middle names.  I think once they are out they aren’t going to risk it again.

“It could happen.  If they ever get back together, that’s something that could happen in their future.”

And I’m sorry to say this but this is TV, A drama at that, we have to jump through all sorts of hoops to get this kind of pay off.  That is part of why we are now tearing our hair out and crying until Jemma gets him back.  And when she does the pay off will be worth it.  Look at what we got after Hogface.

The Fallout:

AOS has never ‘dealt’ with trauma and recovery very well.  Even Daisy’s recovery a victim of the Ghost Rider Arc.  It is often done over hiatus or “off camera.  Now we have a situation where its the whole cast that will have things to deal with.  So yes, we will miss seeing it but because we don’t see it doesn’t mean it won’t happen. 

We can also have the healing ‘begin’ in the Framework, especially for Fitz as he helps get everyone out or plays a part in stopping AIDA once as for all. 

Sorry that was a lot but I hope it helps.  Just remember its always Darkest before the Dawn and our Sunrise is coming guys.