#its SO GOOD and the complexity and the presentation is something spy would get down for

[marshmcore]

Pyro’s act of kindness❤️‍🔥

They both have a sweet tooth and thats how they bond!!! They both share a refined taste for desserts (Spy is just over-the-top fancy, while Pyro feels better eating them than having Bonk). Spy is delighted to know that someone remembers his favourite dessert and appreciates the art of French confectionery, while Pyro is happy to share their interests in gastronomy and gush about the cute lil pastries and cakes💕

(Also I think Spy can get a little homesick, so Pyro bringing him an authentic slice of his favourite cake can make him happy ;w;)

Lmao this started off as improving my Spy drawing, buuut-

[argentumcor]

The party in Phantom Liberty is a fun concept, a journey to the heights that game only touches on existing here and there. Literally, as it were.

Getting there through diving was a nice touch. It's a nice spy movie set piece, a chance for the player to do something cool that, gameplay-wise, isn't complex. It could have had more puzzle aspects but it's so unique within the game that I don't mind. It's nice to have Johnny drop a hint if you take too long figuring out the minor puzzle near the end of that bit. He has thalassophobia, that's established in Pyramid Song, and he's probably not a fan of this but he understands the necessity.

Doing PL before Johnny is more over his revenge kick makes less sense, as the plot has nothing to do with messing with Arasaka or killing Smasher, yet he is very supportive of saving Songbird and the potential of her cure for V, even when it involves things he thinks are really dangerous and stupid.

I've written before that Kerry should have been at the party and Rogue as well. They function on that level. We know they had the VAs back because of some of the new dialogue options and Kerry, especially, could have been funny as hell with varying interactions depending on if you've done the Silverhand Farewell Tour or not, as well as Johnny commentary. Kerry and Johnny insulting each other with V as Johnny's intermediary is underutilized.

I kept an eye out for Jago and Bennett this time in everything to with Barghest. Jago is around- he's actually at the gate when you first meet Songbird, as well as is managing arrangements for the party, in Hanson's VIP area chatting, and chasing down a rumored security breach in the laundry room (V and Reed) as you leave the party. He's an interesting character to me. Bennett is standing guard it seems at Hanson's VIP area, for some reason, instead of living it up, and he is at the fight in Balls to the Wall. So, interestingly, is Rinder. I think he's actually on that convoy op, too. That whole thing took place a week prior, which means Rinder got abandoned by Barghest real fast after being very much in its good graces.

Hansen is a character whose motives I want more light on. Power, of course, is a big one, but I felt like the things with Myers was personal. He's angry at the way the Unification War ended and I think it's implied- you don't chat much to Barghest qua Barghest but you talk a lot to NUSA about them- that from Hansen and the unit's point of view they were abandoned to die, a little like Reed's team. Barghest runs a functional ship, if not a tight one, and there's a degree of enforcement of order. Could they kill you if you were just in the vicinity of the wrong thing? Yes. Do they ignore stuff, especially if it involves some deal or one of their own? Yes. But the ambient chatter makes clear they also keep the gangs on a leash to an extent and maintain Dogtown's infrastructure. The Stacks are not the shittiest place to live in Night City. It's functional and, for many there, perhaps more functional than they would find otherwise. You can find a cat just chilling which is something of an indicator that Dogtown is not just a shithole. One of Hansen's broadcasts is an alert for a cyberpsycho (I don't think this a veiled reference to you or Reed or anyone). This isn't a defense of Barghest and Hanson, just a nod to the nuance in the writing of them. People flee to Dogtown when they have no other options, but when people proclaim pride for Dogtown, it isn't just because of propaganda.

The gigs in Dogtown have a lot of personality. Most gigs in the game do, small stories and occasional dilemmas, but I think Dogtown's are more elaborate than many. I hadn't noticed before how some things presented as gigs are actually side stories- namely Dazed and Confused and Shot by Both Sides.

Dazed and Confused plays perfectly on some of what BD tech can do to someone, just a ridiculous yet not unserious exploration of the tech's impact on human life. Johnny congratulates you on helping out Tool, and even finds his stupid fan mail letter touching ("Kind of wishing I hadn't burned all my fan mail"; he was such an asshole celebrity back in the day). Tool is not a particularly useful person to any end, pitiful but not in a big-eyed starving kid way, stupid, the kind of person an activist would call 'part of the problem', but Johnny still doesn't want the guy to be left like this. There's an argument that could be made that Tool might want to be left like this-he's very much not a fan of being himself and very much a fan of being Lina- but Johnny doesn't make it. Would never make it.

Shot by Both Sides is an interesting one, tied to the main plot and possibly the only bit of the Cynosure you get to see. The bit in the apartment is fun, more banter, and the facility itself is interesting. They did a nice writing trick with the emails and shards where you got a sense of the staff's humanity- messages between a husband stationed there (the guy in the logs) and his wife, an older email from a father asking his son if he's dead in a 'you never call' way and the son saying to not email him at his work email, the netrunner Lisa asking people to clean the bathroom dammit, another email where the user purchased tickets to one of Johnny's solo concerts. This helps make choosing between Dante and the journalist actually more difficult. She's your client but she's unpleasant, clearly on the take when you investigate her apartment, claims she's fighting against Militech but her getting this info, Dante says (which is true), will get the former staff killed. Dante is interesting and has interesting things to say. His character description in the database is, too. He joins Jago and Tiny Mike in my list of really intriguing minor character from this game.

[wkil-109-fmx-radio]

[Zone Info]

Events:

Helium I - Fought between 1993 and 1998 when tensions between governments around the world finally turned to war. Nuclear warfare wiped out Northern-Middle Eurasia, most of South America, South-Eastern North America, and Southern Africa. The war ended when what was left of Europe and Asia surrendered.

The Rise of Better Living Industries - BL/ind started as a weapons manufacturing/power company that rose into a major monopoly and self-governing body that overthrew the US toward the end of the first Helium War. It immediately began an effort to bring “peace” to the nation by ridding the country of all individualism and “radical” beliefs, believing that different ideas would turn into conflict. This quickly turned into ridding the country of creativity and self-expression to make a perfect, crime-free society.

Helium II - Fought between 2006 and 2011 when Better Living Industries had taken control of what was left of North and South America and began attacking the rest of the world, trying to rid the planet of ideas that didn’t match theirs. The East Coast started rebelling against the West Coast, where BL/ind had established their capital in what was once Los Angeles but had been renamed Battery City. A wall of nuclear bombs was dropped around the Rocky Mountains and thanks to the radiation around the globe affecting the radio waves, no one knows for sure whether there is anyone else living on the planet outside of Battery City and its surrounding Zones.

The Rise of the Rebels - Since the very beginning of Better Living Industries’ reign, rebels had appeared. When Battery City was established as BL/ind’s capital city, settlements started popping up in the desert outside of the city. On the East Coast of North America, a massive rebellion effort was led against BL/ind during the second Helium War. As the years passed, more rebels started appearing in Battery City and moving to the desert, eventually renamed The Zones, especially after BL/ind seemed to have destroyed the East Coast rebels. Rebels in the Zones became known as Killjoys and rebels in the city became known as Juvie Halls. Rebels began attacking Better Living Industries factories and facilities, hoping to weaken the company but only resulting in angering BL/ind.

The Fires of 2012 - From April till August of 2012, Better Living Industries began lighting fires across the Zones in an attempt to destroy the Killjoys, as they had grown out of BL/ind’s control. The Fires got out of control and ended up spreading to some Better Living Industries camps and buildings that were still stationed in the Zones. As a result, BL/ind blamed the rebels for the Fires and denied any claims of the truth. The blame being placed on the rebels sparked the start of the Analog Wars.

The Analog Wars - Fought between 2012 and 2017 or, to some, from 2012 to the present. The Analog War wasn’t your usual war; it was mostly small battles in the Zones or sabotage of BL/ind or rebel facilities. Better Living Industries describes it as “an effort to suppress the rebels and their radical and dangerous ideals.” During the war, BL/ind established the Draculoid and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W units.

The Pig Bombs of 2017 - On July 4, 2017, Better Living Industries dropped a series of bombs in Zone 8 to destroy the Killjoy farming communities that were settled there. BL/ind had previously withheld using nuclear weapons in the Zones because they didn’t want the radiation destroying Battery City so they settled for dropping them in Zone 8, although they ended up also destroying several important Better Living Industries facilities in the process. The bombs wiped Zones 7, 8, and 9 off the map, left some places in Zone 6 uninhabitable, and created a wall of radiation around the Zones and Battery City, trapping them and isolating them from the rest of the world. This marked the end of the Analog Wars, although some believe that since there was no official surrender or treaty, the war is still going on.

Places:

Battery City - The capital of whatever is left of the US that Better Living Industries can control. In Battery City, the citizens are required to take “Happy Pills.” In the city, BL/ind controls the weather, the way people dress, where kids go to school, and where adults work. Every citizen has a set routine, sent to them in the morning along with their medication. In the center of Battery City is the Better Living Industries headquarters which is the tallest building and largest complex in the city and home to the Director, the head of BL/ind.

The Underground - The subway systems under Battery City where many juvie halls live and plot against Better Living Industries. “The Underground��� doesn’t always literally mean the subway systems and can be used as a relative term for anywhere juvie halls may live.

The Outskirts - The edge of Battery City, bordering Zone 1. This is where lower-class citizens live, along with some juvie halls, as this is the least regulated part of the city.

The Zones - The desert surrounding Battery City, where the Killjoys live. As the number of the Zone gets higher, so does the population, as the Killjoys like to be as far away from Battery City and BL/ind headquarters as possible.

Route Guano - The most used interstate in the Zones, running from south-eastern Battery City all the way out past Zone 6.

The Getaway Mile - The interstate south of Route Guano, which is shorter and goes more south but is often used for quick escapes from Battery City.

Death Valley - The area outside of Zone 6 that is dangerous and completely uninhabitable due to the extreme radiation.

Lighthouses - Well-known places across the Zones that provide sanctuary for Killjoys on the run

Train Station Avenue - A popular lighthouse along Route Guano in Zone 5 that is notorious for fights, food, and hitchhikers

The Nest - The largest lighthouse in the Zones, located next to DESTROYA in Zone 4

DESTROYA Site - The home of DESTROYA, a massive droid built by Better Living Industries to destroy the Killjoys during the Analog Wars but ended up malfunctioning and turning against them. The droid was shot down and has remained there ever since.

The Bunker - An underground bunker turned nightclub in Zone 6, popular for raves and huge amounts of attendees

Witch’s Hut - A small hut in Zone 6 where a supposed prophet of the Phoenix Witch lives

The Tracks - A race track in Zone 5 used for competitive drag races where parties are held and bets are placed for your favorite racers

Vocabulary:

Angel Cake - Killjoys who travel across the Zones selling food for cheaper prices

Audition - Initiation rituals that gangs in or outside of Battery City may have for you to be able to join. What you have to do varies from gang to gang

Babysitter - a term used to poke fun at a gang leader but also used as a genuine term for gang leaders who may be visibly older than the rest of the gang

Bacon - dead or dying Dracs and Crows

Batt out of hell - a term for new Killjoys but not used in a derogatory way

Batt Rat - a derogatory term used by Sand Pups to describe new Killjoys who just escaped the city and don’t know the Zone ways

Black Smith - someone who’s good at repairing or modifying technology or cars

Bifrost - places in the Zones that were so greatly affected by bombs, that the sand turned to glass

Blanket drive - driving at night with the headlights off, the windows down, and the music turned up loud

Carbons - The currency used in Battery City and the Zones. One carbon equals four dollars

Chilly - something or someone that’s suspicious

Clap - a physical fight

Cloud - A large group of Draculoids and S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W traveling through the Zones

Compass Rose - a Killjoy who knows the desert like the back of their hand

Costa Rica - things that went crazy or got out of control

Crash Queen - a daredevil or thrill seeker who is known for doing things that could easily get them killed and doesn’t care

Deadfaced - taking Battery Acid

Dead Pegasus - a fuel company in the Zones

Debut album - someone’s first love

Digital - An important moment shared amongst two or more rebels that they know they will never forget

Draculoid - droids and brainwashed Killjoys designed to kill rebels. Also called "bats" or "Dracs"

Drifter - someone who lives a nomadic lifestyle and strays from commitment in relationships

Drifting - A relationship that isn’t strictly anything but simply some sort of attraction between two individuals. A sort of go-with-the-flow, whatever happens, happens kind of relationship

Drive sidestreet - another way to tell someone to piss off. Also could use “get off the highway”

Dust Trail - an urban legend or a term used by non-religious Killjoys to describe religious Killjoys’ beliefs

ElectroKat - the most popular battery brand in Battery City and the Zones

Exterminators - High ranking Better Living Industries officials placed in charge of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W units

Fact News - The one news program in Battery City, notorious for spreading lies to the citizens

Favorite Record - someone’s significant other

Firefight - a fight using ray guns

Fly half-mast - that state after having recently lost someone close to you

Gearhead - someone who’s obsessed with all things mechanical

Gemini - someone suspected of being a spy for Better Living Industries

Ghost Chase - Searching the Zones for someone who is possibly, or most likely, dead

Ghosted - killed. Also can use "dusted"

Graffiti Bible - A collection of religious writings across the Zones, mostly talking about how DESTROYA will come back to life and destroy Battery City and the Phoenix Witch

Gravehead - crazy Killjoys who have lost everyone and everything and throw themselves into dangerous situations

Gravity - anything that brings you down

Groupie - someone who travels with different gangs and trades favors for food, water, and protection

Halo Head - religious Killjoys who believe their beliefs put them above everyone else, especially non-religious Killjoys

Happy Pills - Pills issued by Better Living Industries that they say will lift your spirits and protect you from the radiation but make you more submissive and easier for BL to control. The rebels call them "Battery Acid"

Hit the red line - run away, usually from a bad/dangerous situation

Icy - when someone dies or goes missing in a suspicious way

Juvie Hall - rebels who haven’t left the city, usually because they can’t or because they’re working with the Killjoys to smuggle supplies out to the Zones and/or give them information from the city

Killjoy - rebels who live in the Zones

Lawyer - someone who ruins all the fun

Mailbox - small landmarks in the Zones where an old mailbox is painted and decorated and filled with letters, mostly to people that other Killjoys have lost. The more religious Killjoys believe the Phoenix Witch delivers the letters put in the mailboxes to the dead

Maple Plaza - Places in Zone 6 where radiation is still very thick and dangerous

Mega - interchangeable with "wicked"

Motorbabies - people who live and breathe all things car-related

Mousekat - a cartoon character from Battery City

Murder - a magazine in the Zones with Zone news

Pangea - A friendly gathering of two or more gangs

Paperboy - someone who travels across the Zones collecting news, gossip, and reporting deaths, usually for Dr. D or Murder magazine

Phoenix Witch - a supposed deity of the Zones, looking out for the rebels and carrying the souls of the dead into the afterlife

Pigs - another term for Dracs and Crows

Plus - A battery replenisher used by droids that are known for being highly addictive

Power Pup - a pre-moistened dog kibble brand that is often the only source of food in the Zones

Ray Gun - guns that shoot high-powered lasers instead of bullets. Rebels often customize them

Rebel - anyone who actively works against Better Living Industries

Ritalin Rat - drug addicts, usually used for those addicted to Happy Pills but can be used for Zoneweed addicts as well

Robin Hood Honey - party going Killjoys that look beautiful but don’t act like it

Rongee Kay - Killjoys who wander from party to party

Royal - something fancy or high end

Runners - juvie halls who smuggle supplies into the Zones

Sand Pup - someone born in the Zones or someone who has lived there most of their life

Sand Worm - a derogatory term for Killjoys used by Better Living Industries

S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W - BL loyalists specially trained to destroy anything they deem worthy of destroying. Also called "Crows"

Screwhead - someone who parties too much and thinks too little

Shiny Magazine - a magazine for mature readers in the Zones

Shiny - interchangeable with "awesome" or "cool"

Shower Curtain - A rare day when the sun is behind the clouds and the heat isn’t so unbearable

Smiley - someone acting suspiciously

Sour - something off

Squeaky - not having committed a crime against Better Living Industries but still wanting to rebel against them. Also used when someone seems to avoid fights or dangerous situations even though they’ve never done that before

Static - another word for sand or remote areas of the Zones

Trojan Horse - a painfully obvious lie

Tumbleweed - someone who wanders the Zones, living a nomadic lifestyle, having no home or gang

Vend-a-Hack - A device used by Killjoys to hack into Better Living Industries vending machines to steal various supplies

Vending Machine - Dispense a variety of items, including ray guns, batteries, ammo, stickers, stress toys, Plus, Power Pup, and water

WKIL 109 FMX - Doctor D’s pirate radio station that plays news and music

Zone Rat - a derogatory term for Killjoys used by Better Living Industries and some Battery City citizens

Zoneweed - a popular drug grown and passed around in the Zones

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 20

Description:

Notes:  WC: 7.4k

+

It wasn't long at all until he realized something was different––not specifically in you, or in his environment, but within his thoughts. Things had shifted, and the constant anxieties of where food and water was coming from next were turned to empty slots in his mind, slots you happily filled.

Against his will, he could think of little else besides you. He tried many things as well––staying away from you, keeping close to you, but he had yet to touch you in any way that really mattered. Fluttering glances and barely-there graces didn't count, nor did misplaced kisses on saner, safer areas. No, his dreams offered him no break from the annoyingly insistent thoughts, and instead supplied him with the endless imagination of an unchecked mind. Drowning in the image of your closed eyes slotted next to his in soft kisses, of your fingertips trailing across his bare waist.

But you would never do that.

He stared longingly at you through the gate he guarded, leaning on his wooden and bronze spear as you dug in the garden. Zakiti, your work partner, was travelling back and forth between where new trees had been dropped off, and where you were told to plant them.

In fact, he was so absorbed in your moving lips that he barely heard his own partner talking to him from across the gate.

"What are you, in love with Zakiti?" He asked, but he spoke in Akkadian, and Ahkmen had yet to pick up more of the complex words. One phrase you taught him was –

"I do not speak Akkadian," he said.

Luqa––or at least that's what Ahk thought his name was––just sighed, rolling his eyes and turning back to face front. Ahkmen frowned softly but turned to attention as well.

That was generally how he spent his working hours. Much like he had in the House of Life in Egypt, he wasted away the time by staring at you or thinking of you, phasing out at the thought of knowing you. He was sure his coworker was tired of his shenanigans, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about what Luqa thought.

Fortunately, neither of you had work that often, and after asking the stewardess, your schedules were matched up to have the same amount of free time at the same time. The two of you took full advantage of that, spending many of your days strolling throughout the city and trying the new foods and beers created throughout the mud brick landscape. Strips of gardens were scattered throughout the city, but none more grand than the terraces of flora making up the Hanging Gardens, whose trees leant over with their plentiful fruit. Deep green vines twisted around blue tiled ledges and tall, white pillars, the especially long ones brushing up against the people who came and went from the gardens. You had yet to actually enter any of the Hanging Gardens, but they remained a constant in the background of the city.

Many morning and evenings you spent in the brewery. Sometimes Ahk would follow you, but other times he left to temples and taverns, socializing with the locals in hopes of absorbing more of the language. His favorite time was coming to visit you at the brewery after letting you work for a few hours, as you always lit up like a beacon whenever you caught sight of him.

This time was no different––you raced up the steps, taking his hand and dragging him back down. Today, tarps had been raised above the workshop, blocking away the blearing sun, and allowing a little more comfort in the already-heated environment. Not all of the stations were filled, but your friend Tiamat was still there at your side.

"I am – I am doing a, uh, a way to make my beer, but with the barley," you stuttered out, barely coherent enough for him to understand.

"So... the really alcoholic kind?" Ahk asked uncertainly.

"Yes!!" You exclaimed, and Tiamat laughed.

"Here," Tiamat said, gesturing Ahk over to her. She dunked the cup in her hand into the frothing beer, and handed it to him when it filled with the golden liquor.

You and Tiamat waited in baited breath as Ahk slowly lifted the cup to his mouth, sipping at the warm drink with a critical look in his eye. It was sweet––almost like cider, but it burnt his throat on the way down, warming his stomach pleasantly once it was there. He looked up, and you were still watching intently.

"What do you think?" You asked, your hands clasped tight together in front of your chest.

"It's good," he said, nodding. "You know what would go great with this?"

"What?"

"Cardamom. It's a spice, I'm sure they have it here," he said, but your brow furrowed as you looked away, a confused look on your face.

Ahk looked to Tiamat and repeated, "cardamom."

Tiamat, who look equally confused, said something to you that you had to translate.

"We do not know the word in Egyptian," you said.

"Shit," Ahk muttered. "It would taste so good, though."

"Is it sweet?"

"Well, it is used in desserts," he said with a shrug.

"That is good for me. We can – uhh, we can go to a spice shop, and we can, or you can, find it," you suggested, and repeated it to Tiamat, who nodded with a brightening smile.

"Good idea," she said.

The three of you set off quickly with Tiamat leading the way, as she knew the city best after the years she'd been living within its walls. Bustling chatter filled the streets, accompanied by shuffling feet, wooden wheels, and the jarring calls of sheep and goats. Bells sometimes rung as merchants shouted out their wares, and you ducked beneath their raised arms, giggling as you followed Tiamat, while Ahkmen trailed close behind, almost always reaching out for your hand.

Tiamat was a good deal taller and buffer than you, reaching Ahkmen's height and surpassing his strength, so she was stopped by large crowds that suddenly crossed your path. You panted as you caught up to her long-striding legs, followed by Ahk also appearing and panting.

"Since the drought, a lot of our trade lines have been cut... of course, the Kassite takeover didn't help, so we've only got a couple spice shops left," Tiamat told you as she tried to look over the moving heads of the crowd. "I think most of it is grown in the King's garden now, actually."

"That is good," you said, positing it was better than nothing.

"Yes, but... I do miss cinnamon," she said with a chuckle.

You relayed what she said––minus the cinnamon––to Ahkmen as you waited for the people, who were dragging along a group of goats, to pass by.

"That ought to make our search easier," Ahk said, and no sooner had he'd finished the phrase than he was being pulled on again, your left hand clasping his and your right held by Tiamat.

Frequent turns led you from the northern-most side of the city and into the south, where the streets were less disorganized than they had been. You tried to stop Tiamat several times to look at some of the cuisine and textiles within the scattered markets, but to Ahk's relief she didn't notice you, and kept on her quick-footed pace headed for the spices.

Both you and Ahk fell into heavy pants as Tiamat finally drew to a stop in front of a large, clay storage house, staring up at the symbol carved above the entrance. Through the archway you could spy a few people moving about amongst the massive pots and jars of sandy colors.

When Tiamat made to enter, the two of you followed gingerly, looking like twins with your hands curled in front of your chests to avoid touching anything. You scanned the room as a whole before your eyes fell to one of the merchants, wrapped up in white desert attire and a large turban set on his head. He was speaking quietly to another man, so you ignored him for the time being, and returned your attention to Ahkmen.

"What is the spice you did name?" You asked in a whisper.

"Cardamom," he repeated. "It's just kind of... vaguely brown. Like split wheat."

"That is a good help," you said flatly, looking at the pyramid-like structures of spice nearly overflowing out of the tall clay vases, most of which could qualify as 'vaguely brown'.

"Cardamom," Tiamat tried the word, rolling the word unnecessarily. She turned to you and said in Akkadian, "it's a strange word, isn't it?"

"A little," you agreed with a giggle.

You and Tiamat watched as Ahk sniffed each spice individually, often having to bend down to get a full whiff of the scent. Each time he did so, he wrinkled up his nose, stepping away with a frown.

"Is it bad?" You asked on the first time he did this.

"No, it's just really strong," he said.

That was his continuing excuse for doing it at least ten more times throughout the 15 presented jugs. By the end of it, you were no closer to knowing cardamom's Akkadian name, much less actually having any cardamom.

He backed away from the jars with a frown, crossing his arms as he scanned over all of them once more.

"Nothing," he said.

"How may I help you?" Someone behind you asked, and all three of you turned to see the shopkeeper––the darkskinned merchant who wore a turban. He spoke in Akkadian, but he had an accent, one only Tiamat could pick up on.

"We're looking for a specific spice, but we only know the name in Egyptian," Tiamat said, gesturing vaguely in Ahk's direction.

"Alright," he said with a heavy brow, glancing between you. "What is it?"

You nudged Ahk and he said, "cardamom."

"Ah," the merchant nodded, "qaqullu."

Tiamat asked for him to say it again, but she didn't know the spice, and reported so with a confused look.

"I wouldn't expect ye' to, it's off from Kuru in the east," he said, gesturing out the door with a hand holding round bottle. "Route's been cut, so I haven-been able to get it."

Before you could do it, and to your immense surprise, the merchant repeated what he'd said to Ahkmen in Egyptian. Ahk had a similar look of surprise on his face.

"Do you know of any place that might have it?" Ahk asked with wide eyes. He almost didn't notice the way you grinned toothily up at him.

"You are so intense," you whispered to him.

"How do you even know that word? You asked me what soup meant just yesterday –"

"The King's garden, probably," the merchant interrupted. "But it would cost much."

"That's not a problem," Ahk said before Tiamat could respond.

The three of you bid a hasty thanks and good-bye to the merchant, who gave you an odd look as you raced out of the shop. Crowds had only grown more thick during your time indoors, meaning you could barely see past the moving bodies, and had to rely on Ahk and Tiamat for where you were supposed to go.

Tiamat led the way once more, winding back through the streets from the way you came. According to her, the King's palace was somewhat near to the center, but the gardens were held closer to the largest temple, which marked the exact center of the city. Ahkmen spied through the tall buildings a stretching tower, reaching into the sky in white stone and dark, green leaves. The closer you got, it became easier to realize that the garden resided in a massive temple complex that took up nearly half of the city dwelling on the western bank.

You stopped at a large bridge hanging over the wide Euphrates that split the city down the middle, staring at the sheer size of the rushing water compared to the thin stretches you and Ahk had travelled down. Travellers and chariots marched down the large brick street, wooden wheels pulled by strange creatures you'd never seen before. Most chariots carried one or two passengers, as well as a carriage for goods, such as food, stone, and cloth. A couple carried massive bushels of reeds. On either side of the bridge were familiar statues––the lions with the heads of men, of which you'd learned earlier were titled Lamassu. Soldiers with spears and sheathed swords stood at their sides.

The frequency of soldiers and guards increased as you approached the walls surrounding the temple of Marduk, whose name you only knew after extended conversations with both Tiamat and Zakiti. Ahkmen wasn't aware of the name, but that didn't stop him staring at the temple's might, six terraces building the material of humans into the unearthly heavens.

However, the temple ended up not being your final destination. Tiamat led you past the tower and to the south, running down a wide street that led directly to one of the city's outer walls. Once you stood at the wall's base, she took a sharp turn to the left, and took you to one of the city's entrances across the moat of water.

Across he bridge lay farms and smaller houses, as well as another wall––though much smaller––that had been built to fortify the growing city. The sun shined a bright white overhead, allowing the dewdrops on trees to shine and glitter across the small, town-like reaches.

"There," said Tiamat, pointing out to a shaded area protecting rows of plants. Some of them had tarps set out above them, but others had more permanent shade, effectively hiding a good number of rows from view.

Ahk squinted in the bright sun to try and make out the different types of plants growing there.

"Are we allowed to actually go into the garden?" Ahk asked, a question you relayed to Tiamat.

"I've never been," she said, and began forward across the bridge. "So I'm not actually sure."

You translated the general idea again.

"Well, I've run this much now," Ahk said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Ought not to give up now."

The overbearing scent of mixed spices was quick to hit you, and the three of you slowed down as your noses burned. A few people were standing outside an open archway, the darkness inside containing several more people, and barrels worth of spices. To the left of that the growing continued in shadow, while sunloving plants enjoyed the last light of the day.

Ahkmen accidentally met the eyes of one of the people flanking the entrance, causing his gaze to shoot back down to the ground. The doorway, like many in Egypt, was raised partway off the ground to avoid tracking dust and sand into the building. He stepped over the frame, and stood blindly while his eyes adjusted to the major change in light. His squinting was disturbed when you bumped into him, muttering some sort of apology before you pressed your side to his, scanning the quiet room with a look of near menace.

Tiamat appeared to be in a similar state of apprehension, scanning the room in hopes of finding out whether or not you were allowed to be in there at all. You and Ahk hadn't noticed, but the symbol of the King was carved clearly above the small house, and those who stood nearby were dressed in deep colors of red, purple, and green––a stark difference from the farmers who dwelled in much simpler homes outside.

Your awkward glances eventually caught the eye of a much older man, whose beard curled magnificently between robes of green and silver silk. His dark, bushy brow furrowed as his eyes fell specifically to you––a sort of anger, or perhaps confusion, overtook his curiosity and he stepped forward.

"My name is Sagar," the man said, taking your hand and bowing his head slightly. You stiffened, and Ahk quickly came over to your side, wrapping an arm around the back of your waist.

"Hello, I, uh – I am here with my friends," you replied in Akkadian, joined soon on the other side by Tiamat.

Compared to you and Ahk, Tiamat looked a great deal older as well––neither of you had gotten the chance to ask her age, but considering you were about as short as a 10 year old, and Ahk was twiggy as a 12 year old, it created a considerable difference. You assumed this was why Sagar very suddenly averted his attention to Tiamat, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. Like you, Tiamat grimaced, her shoulders tightening.

"How may I help you?" Sagar asked, his voice low and weathered against your softer ones. Tiamat stuttered before she found an answer.

"We are looking for a spice, qaqullu," she said slowly.

"You must be a woman of noble bearings," he said with a smile.

"Well –"

"No," you answered for her. "But he is."

You pointed to Ahk with your thumb, who shot you an offended look before he confronted Sagar.

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk said, easily recalling the only phrase he knew in Akkadian.

Sagar looked him up and down, almost hesitant to speak.

"Egyptian?" He asked.

You nodded, somewhat impressed considering Ahk was trying to wear more Babylonian clothes, but Ahkmen just looked unsettled, shifting his weight between his feet.

"I've been helping them look for cardamom for their beer," Ahk explained quietly.

"If you have the means to pay for it, the King does have seeds. The price has gone up, though," he added, "due to some... outer pressures."

"You mean the trade network?" Ahk asked, kinking a single brow.

"I'm afraid so. It'll be several gold bands or sacks of grain."

Several?? Ahk's eyes bulged as he heard the price. While he was regaining his words, his mouth fallen open, Sagar translated the sentence back into Akkadian for Tiamat.

"Mother of Gods," Tiamat blurted out. "We'll, uh – we'll be right back."

She herded the two of you out the door––which wasn't a very hard task––and took you round the corner so the doorway was no longer visible.

"I don't think I have that much grain and I certainly don't have that much gold," she said quickly, her eyes flickering between you and Ahk despite the fact that he couldn't understand her.

"We have many gold," you said, retaining most of your optimism easily.

"Okay, wait, we don't have that much gold," Ahk said as soon as he vaguely translated what you said. He turned to you and continued, "we still need to get through Elam and into Harappa. And we'll still need a lot of money once we get there so we don't starve after, like, three days of being in the city."

"Hmm..." you hummed quietly, your brow knotted together as you picked at the skin on your chin.

The two of them waited for you while you thought deeply, staring at the ground.

"We can steal," you suggested after a moment of silence.

"Again??"

"You say it all the time, that it is fun to steal, and from Kings," you said rather loudly, causing Ahk to shoot forward and silence you with a hand held tight over your mouth, simultaneously pushing you against the nearest wall.

"That man in there knew Egyptian, and I'm pretty sure he works for the King," he said quietly.

You stared at each other, iron in your gaze and steel in his.

"What is happening right now?" Tiamat asked, and at that point you recalled that, once more, you were not alone. Ahk had a similar reaction, backing up as his hands zipped behind his back.

You explained the short conversation to her, at which point she nodded with much the same expression as Ahk's when he thought deeply.

"What's the King like?" Ahk asked, knowing little more of the man other than his name. You translated.

"His name is Gidar," she began, allowing you to translate each sentence before she continued. "He is quiet, keeps to himself. He has funded building and farming projects, though, and he upholds the law, so no one really bothers him."

"Are his punishments violent?"

That one took you a little longer to figure out––you didn't know the Akkadian word for 'violent' or 'punishments,' so instead you said something more along the lines of 'does he kill or hurt people who do bad'.

"Like stealing?" She asked.

"Sure," you said with a shrug.

"He will cut off your hands and kill you."

"... oh," you mumbled, grimacing as you turned to Ahk and translated.

"Well, then we better not get caught," he said, placing his hands on his hips.

You glanced to Tiamat with an odd look.

"I do not think that is something we can ask her to do," you whispered, leaning into Ahk.

"Probably not," he said after a moment's thought. "Tell her to go back to the brewery. We'll be back there soon, I think."

"Today?" You asked, your eyes wide.

"Tonight," he nodded.

Late afternoon, and the warm, fiery colors it brought sunk into the horizon, and the stars chased after that light, appearing easily in the sky surrounding a simpler town than the centers of Karanduniash. Only small torches burnt outside the main walls, usually hung by entrances to the clay huts built up from the earth. Some houses were illuminated brightly by fire places, casting squares of light onto the ground from windows, but many were climbing up onto their roofs with rugs and blankets.

You watched the evening progress from a spot near the King's spice garden which, now that you'd stared at it for a couple hours, looked incredibly inconspicuous for such a rich store. An alleyway hid you from sight of the caretakers inside the garden, and a silver earring from Ahk allowed you a hearty, thick stew, steaming with warmth in your bowls.

With a grin you clinked your wooden bowls together before raising it up, forgoing your spoon in favor of slurping the soup. He chuckled, matching your behavior as he glanced past your shoulder, to the garden, and then ultimately to one of the nearby houses in his line of sight.

More people up on the roof––smoke billowed into the air, long shadows and brightly lit faces indicated the bonfire now burning on the rooftop. A couple louder shouts, though still not loud enough for him to understand, and laughter came from there. Ahk recalled with jarring suddenness nights spent on his friend's roof's, cooking fish and warming beer over flames. Fireflies sometimes drifted through the streets below, but what always stood above were looming palm trees, silhouetted against the evening sky rife with stars.

All he could see of the stars was through the thin gap between the houses where you now sat, as anything outside of looking directly up was fuzzed by torchlight. At least the scent of stew still tempted him; he turned his direction back to his food and felt considerably better after finishing.

"I think we take hot stew for granted," he said after a full minute of staring at his empty bowl.

"It is hard to make when we move," you said quietly.

"Really?"

"Yes, you... you need spices, and – and wheat, or barley, or it will be hot fish water," you said in complete seriousness, looking up to him with a critically thinking eye that sent him into laughter.

"Hot fish water??" He repeated, a wide, sweet smile across his face that had you blushing.

"That is what that is!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, "keep quiet, my dear."

"I am not your deer," you said flatly, and returned to the last of your stew.

His heart beat painfully, warmth following that pulsing depth. His smile fell, as well, as imagination––and longing––seized him, and he very nearly pulled you into his lap. Instead he dug his nails into his palm, and proceeded to thoroughly imagine the entire scenario, were he not a coward.

He would take your hands and pull you in. You would follow without hesitation, slotting your knees on either side of his hips, and resting yourself on his thighs. Then you'd ask why he did this, and he would say something suave––something like 'just wanted to see you better'. He'd raise his hand and push the hair out of your face to see your dark, inky eyes, and the red mark above your brow. And he would ask–

"How did you get that mark on your forehead?"

You paused your eating and Ahk stiffened, realizing he just spoke aloud his thoughts.

"My parents did give it to me," you said quietly as you set your now-empty bowl aside. "It was... on my mother, not there forever. It – it came off, but they did want me to always have my third eye open. And they hit it in with sindoor."

"Sindoor?"

"It is from Harappa, I think... I do.. I remember that, in that time, I was in stone homes, with flags of red and gold, and the food.. was very sweet. I think that it is Harappa, what I remember," you said, slowly coming to terms with your own memories.

"You remember your time there?" Ahk asked, raising his brow.

"Only a little," you said with a shrug. "But the mark is where everything is made, by Gods, by us. It is..," you sighed deeply, "I do not know how to say it in Egyptian."

"Oh," he said. His knees pulled ever so slightly closer to his chest, scraping his sandals on the rough gravel. "Can you draw it?"

"... maybe?"

You moved to your knees, searching your immediate surroundings for a stick or rock.

The stick dragged through the loose dirt, forming shapes that soom became ideas––one triangle to represent bread, beside two, and then a blank, empty space you circled.

"It is... nothing. It is when you have no bread, that is a number too," you said, watching Ahk carefully to guage if he fully understood. "Because the life does not.. fully live, without our math."

"The absence of something isn't a number," Ahk said with a frown, his intense gaze switching from the image to you.

"I do not know," you mumbled, pulling your knees to your chest. "It is only what my parents did say."

The stray expression on your face was solidified with wandering eyes, trailing off to the side of the alley wall. Ahk was still in a state of stupefaction, staring at your features––the curl of your lashes, or the warmth of your lips, whose mirage always found his cheek in dreams and fantasies.

Before he knew it he was leaning forward, at last reaching out for you, fingers numb with nervousness scraping against the earth. You still wouldn't look to him, but he continued, thoughtlessly, to creep closer, his hand hovering close enough to your waist to feel your heat.

"The man is leaving," you whispered, the words acting like ice over Ahkmen's brain.

He quickly withdrew, clearing his throat and tracing your eyeline back to the King's garden. There was, in fact, a silhouette of a man leaving the garden hut, settling a tarp over the door and its' symbol before he disappeared from view.

"Give it a few minutes," he muttered back, his eyes set dead upon the disappearing figure. "He might come back."

Ahkmen sat back down on his butt, the pebbles beneath him scratching as he adjusted himself against the wall. You glanced to him for a moment, offering a small smile when you saw his furrowed brow, lessening his anxiety if only minutely.

The two of you talked quietly for a little while longer, keeping up your cover as vagrant friends, until Ahk was assured the guard wouldn't be returning. He kept a continuous eye on the garden, and was quick to move to his feet after he decided it was safe. Your hand slipped into his without him asking, a grip he solidified as you jogged, looking up and down the street you crossed.

No one.

The flap the man set over the doorway was a meek form of protection, and was easily bypassed with nothing more than your hands. It rippled behind you as you entered, but soon fell silent, hiding you and Ahk from view of the street.

Inside the garden's storeroom was even darker than the night outside––the flap blocked out the light of torches, and a ceiling concealed the sky. You squinted as you tried to see, eventually making out the shaky forms of closed caskets and containers. Most of them had lids made of pottery, but some had nets wrapped around the high necks, secured tightly into place with complex knots.

"You must see for it," you whispered to him. "I do not know the smell, or the look."

"I don't really know how it looks either, I'll be honest with you," he said. "I've only ever seen it fully processed in one of the kitchens."

"Why did you not say that?!" You hissed.

"I didn't think it would be a problem!" He whispered harshly.

"You –" you sucked in a breath, "– you find the thing, I will go see that we are not found."

"Yes, dear," he said in a drawling tone he had used many times for those two words.

Before he knew it his back was slammed against a wall, sending pain shooting up his spine and into his cranium. He nearly let out a pained cry, but your hand zipped up to cover his mouth, your other arm keeping his chest pinned to the wall. He stared wide-eyed down at you, shocked at the force you so easily used.

Your fingers over his lips.

Your hand on his chest.

Your leg slotted between his.

His cheeks were set ablaze.

"You do not get the bad part of the times in Egypt, when you did steal and make fun with guards," you said, glowering up at him. "But this is not a place where you are rich. You can not pay for innocence. Not here. And this price is death if we are seen, like it is always for me, in Egypt and Babylon."

He gulped down the knot in his throat, only breathing when you gently pulled away. You still glared at him, but it was less intense, and you put more distance between you.

"Do see the cardmoms," you mumbled before you left.

The flap settling back into place was the last sound he heard from you, your fabric shoes allowing you to pad quietly away without making any noise. An intense, overpowering silence followed, darkened hands rubbing it like lavender upon his skin, familiar and uncomfortable.

He spent the following hour or two searching through the assorted jars, carefully raising up mud lids or untying thick rope. Many of the spices were ones he'd tried before––some reminding him of Egypt and others bringing memories of the few countries he travelled to during his time as Prince. Now he was stealing not just for fun, but because he had to. He couldn't afford what he was taking.

Cardamom, who carried a sweet, fruity scent, ended up being at the opposite end of the room, making it one of the last he inspected. Its' scent was also incredibly distinct, and the moment he found it he knew most certainly it was cardamom. He grinned.

It wasn't the seeds, either––it was the actual powdered spice, meaning it was already ready to put in the beer. But there was very little of it, the whole of the container being around the size of his head.

He sighed almost wearily, leaning sideways against the wall.

If you were still here, he could've apologized, and you'd both probably be gone by now. As he phased out at the thought of you, he mindlessly stroked the clay pot.

Approaching footsteps broke his trance. His eyes shot up, automatically tucking the cardamom into his clothes and running off into the night garden, in which the medicinal herbs were grown. He sucked in a sharp breath, realizing acutely that he was now ankle deep in wet earth, though fortunately, in-between the rows instead of on them.

The tarp at the garden's entrance flapped again as the stranger entered. There was little protecting him from being discovered now, and he fled off to the sun garden, careful to not slosh his feet in the mud. It was then, when mud had splattered up to his calf, that he remembered his leather shoes were still inside the storeroom, waiting to be discovered.

Thoughts flew wildly around his head, his quick-thinking talents melting away into timed panic. Wide eyes flickered from the archway between the shadow garden and the storeroom, and then to the arch leading into the sun garden, then back to the stranger, who pivoted on their heel.

He fled into the next room the moment the steps even hinted of growing louder, pressing his back against the opposite wall, his chest heaving up and down.

Again his frantic eyes searched the room for anything that might aid his escape. Tarps were stretched taut between wooden poles, blocking access to the outside, but allowing sunlight to stream in. He looked up and realized with sickness that the only way out was up.

Digging his teeth into the inside of his cheek, he tied fabric around the clay pot, ensuring it wouldn't fall from his grasp. He tensed his muscles, preparing himself mentally before he jumped up and grasped the top of the pole with his fingers.

Steps continued to get closer, now treading through the silted earth and sparking a dreadful terror that shivered down his neck in much the way it had when you slammed him against the wall. He scrambled up, his bare feet digging into the splintered pole before he threw himself over the other edge of the tarp. A loud thud came from him as he fell on his back––once more injuring it––bringing from him a pained groan.

Footsteps grew even closer, marking the sign of running feet that had Ahk clambering to his legs, cradling the cardamom to his chest as he ran. Bits of gravel and hay dug into his bare feet, bringing with them sharp pains that had Ahk convinced he was bleeding. When he looked behind himself, however, he found no trail, and slowed his sprint as he crossed the gate into the main city.

Deep breaths wracked his chest and he collapsed partways, leaning the weight of his upper body on his knees, fingers splayed out on the heated skin. He quickly looked behind him to be sure, and after finding nothing continued on into the city. It would take a while before he reached the brewery.

He paused in an alleyway for a short few minutes, checking the state of his heel and finding it alright. Reddened and dry, but unpunctured, despite the pain being sent through his muscles. With a sigh he leaned back, closing his eyes.

What a nightmare.

He could not pull his thoughts from the image of you angry, blazing with an inequality that had clearly been irritating you for a while. Even with his lie he alienated himself from you.

You would forgive him, but not for the reasons Ahkmen wanted you to. You'd forgive him because you had to, because the only other option was fending for yourself through another country and a half until you got to Harappa, where even there safety wasn't assured. But you wouldn't forgive him because you loved him, or because you knew he could do better. Horrible guilt flared in his chest, turning to bile in the back of his throat.

Whether or not you intended this reaction, it was there nonetheless, and Ahkmen did his best to force it down with logic. It wasn't a big deal. He could do better. And, he supposed, he got the cardamom, so that had to count for something.

His hands were still wrapped around the pot discreetly when he entered the vacant city plaza, heading quickly down the steps into the brewery. From the entrance he could hear the soft sounds of burning fire, and when he pulled away the door he noticed immediately warm light and soft voices, stirring with a mixer that clunked gently against the side of the cauldron.

The two of you went quiet when Tiamat noticed Ahk standing awkwardly at the doorway. He glanced between you before reaching into his clothes, pulling out the cask of cardamom so highly coveted in the last couple hours.

Tiamat gasped, a wide grin instantly spreading across her face. Your mouth fell open in shock.

"You did get it?" You asked, stepping around the boiling pot to stand in front of Ahk.

"Yeah," he said, still reeling from his escape. "Almost got caught. I had to jump over the tarps 'round the sun garden."

"Jump??" You asked.

"Well – more vaulting over them," he said. That didn't clear it up at all, but you were grateful anyways.

He sat in the corner of the limestone room, watching you and Tiamat mix a handful of the spice in the large cauldron, and testing the scent as you stirred. You continued to talk in hushed whispers of Akkadian, your shadows casted long against the low fire. Sleepiness was already beginning to take over him, leaning his head back against the cool wall, and letting his eyes slip shut.

When he came to, Tiamat had gone, and you were left alone to tend to your beer. You still stood atop a box that lifted you up to look over the jug, slowly stirring the thick mixture. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the strands of your hair that fell in front of your eyes casted shadows on your cheeks and brow.

After a yawn and a stretch, he lifted himself to stand, and shuffled over to your side.

"I'm sorry for endangering you," he said quietly, hesitant to look and even more hesitant to touch.

"I do not know that word," you said without looking up.

"Putting you in a place where you might get hurt."

"Oh," you glanced up to him, but didn't linger before you returned to the vat. "It is okay. I know you do not know very much better."

"It's not really okay, I should've thought beyond my own nose."

"A little," you agreed before falling silent.

After a minute he asked, "is there a way I can make it up to you?"

"You had the cardamom, that is good," you chuckled. "But you almost got caught?"

"Ah, that," he said with a long sigh that made you giggle again.

He recited to you the events of the evening that progressed after you left. He conveniently left out a few details––such as almost crying because he'd upset you––but included how he'd injured himself, how the garden official was hot on his trail, and how he accidentally left his shoes in the storeroom. You nodded along.

A beat of silence passed after his story ended, broken only by the bubbling of beer.

"You are filthy," you said.

"Thanks," he said with a frown.

You set a lid over the cask, feeding the fire only a little more before you stepped down from the pedestal.

"I know where we must go," you said, stopping in front of him to look up and meet his eye.

"To bed?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

His heated skin finally calmed down enough to feel a cool breeze as you led him out of the brewery, and back into the empty town center. For a few minutes you walked in silence, and every now and then you'd turn down a street, directions he thoughtlessly followed.

The scent of water hit him before he saw it, and soon the brick path led out to a crystal-white terrace, holding descending steps on either side of the raised platform. Below sloshed the inky waters of the canal, reflecting his warped features. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was halted when you took his hand, gently pulling him down the glazed brick steps. Their tops were white, and the rims beneath carried a familiar shade of blue.

Olive-colored trees grew on the riverside, barely reaching any taller than the platform that now stood proud above him. Only a single other person was there––a bald man drifting on a skiff at the other bank of the river. He was easy to ignore, which you did gladly, and continued to pull Ahk to the riverside.

"You have dirt," you said, scanning him up and down. "And here is where you do clean your body. This is your forever. No more of the home baths, and your smelly things."

"You mean my lavender?"

"Etuvaka. You know what I say," you said with a stern look.

"I know," he said quietly, sitting on the ledge of the stone dock with his feet swinging in the water.

You took a seat beside him, slipping off your shoes and rolling up your pants before you dipped your legs in beside his.

"How are your feet?" You asked.

"Alright," he said as he massaged the bottoms of them. "I thought they were bleeding, but they aren't, so I must be alright."

"Take your clothe off," you said, suddenly moving up to your knees and scooting behind his back.

He chuckled but undid the tie around his waist, pulling the green shawl off his shoulders. It fell easy to the crook of his elbow, and you tugged it down further, eventually pulling the fabric out from being tucked into his skirt, and tossing it aside to the marble floor.

"You have... color," you said quietly after a moment of just staring at his back.

"Sort of dark? Like dirt?" He asked, attempting to look over his shoulder at you, but settling for staring at the wall beside him.

"A little," you said.

Your fingers touched the top of his spine, trailing down the bumps and ridges showing prominently through the skin of a man overworked and weary. When you pressed harder, even slightly, he hissed and jerked away.

"Careful there," he said, clearing his throat to mask his whimper.

"Sorry," you mumbled.

Ahk continued to wash his feet and legs free of the mud while you stayed knelt behind him, your touch brushing against him every so often. He finished rather quickly, but enjoyed your hesitant fingers so greatly that he pretended to keep washing himself, hoping to feel you at his back and shoulders again.

"You are Shu fully equipped," you began to murmur, your palms settling on his shoulders and digging softly into the skin. "You have not been taken to the God's place of execution, for you are covered with the kenu-garment. You were not made to enter into the God's place of execution, for you are the Great One, baboon-shaped; you have not entered into the God's place of execution, the knife has no power over you."

He sat in silence for another moment, his mouth hanging subconsciously open.

"That was... perfect Egyptian," he turned around, dragging water on his leg, "where did you learn that?"

"My time in your class, in Memphis, was not for nothing," you said with a giggle, as though it was inconsequential, as though you were normal. "It is one of your spells, for being killed by a King. It is best, because that is your crime."

He could do nothing but stare, confounded.

"I could fall in love with you," he blurted out, watching with dread as your expression fell.

You pursed your lips softly, your gaze falling to the river behind him. To his credit, he hadn't given everything away, though by the look on your face he might as well have.

"I am not a person that people fall in love with," you said quietly.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss, Ch. 1 [NSFW/18+]

Chapter 2 ->

Summary:  You can’t stand Frederick Chilton, but after he’s tortured and left scarred by a former patient, you are afflicted by an irrepressible desire to get him in bed.

This has been posted on AO3 for awhile, but I thought I’d post the chapters here! (Took the liberty of fleshing out the short smut a wee bit.)

2,380 words

Dr. Frederick Chilton was arrogant and unpleasant.

Everyone thought so, but most would dance around their hostility toward him with subtle digs couched in polite conversation. Not you. You weren’t shy about saying it to his face.

As he exited the courtroom doors, Dr. Chilton saw you waiting in the hall to ambush him, and braced himself for another soapbox diatribe. 

Such a shame, he thought. He recalled how he had tried to make a good impression when you first met, but all his charm kept backfiring, and now you patently despised him. His failure to curry favor was nothing out of the ordinary, but unfortunately, he still had to deal with you. You were one of Crawford’s lackeys, and had made yourself inescapable since Will Graham’s arrest.

“You conniving, idiotic, condescending weasel!” you exploded upon the man with an expensive suit and gaudy cane. “How could you get on the stand and make that bullshit testimony? You don’t know anything about Will!” You withheld the fuck-you’s that time, out of professional courtesy.

He brushed you off and continued walking briskly down the hall, cane tapping on the polished floor, but you followed and walked alongside him.

“Do I need a restraining order against you?” Dr. Chilton said, bored.

You crossed your arms. “Oh, hah-hah.”

“What is it, then?” he sighed, slowing down. Trying to outpace you was more trouble than it was worth, thanks to the pinching of scar tissue in every stride. “I am extremely busy.”

“‘The confused man Will Graham presents to the world could not commit those crimes, because that man is a fiction,’” you quoted his testimony.

“Correct. Is that all?”

“Did you ever consider it’s because he didn’t commit those crimes? You know, being the only one who thinks Will is a psychopath doesn’t make you a genius, it makes you an idiot. Or do you know that, but you’ve just been pining have him locked up so you can study him?”

“Incredible. Mr. Graham has found a truly gullible fool to place under his thumb. I have never met anyone so susceptible to his manipulations. Have you ever been tested for personality disorders?” He regarded you like you were a lab rat with a lot of audacity to be squeaking at him (though to be fair, that was how he looked at almost everybody).

You burned to keep arguing, but he walked down the courthouse steps and got into an obtrusively fancy classic car. Your heart was racing. You weren’t finished with him.

  *****

You seemed to be the only sane person aware that the sweet, empathetic, dog-loving Will Graham was obviously being framed, and did your best to visit him as often as possible at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane.

Unfortunately, that meant dealing with its chief of staff.

Every time you visited Will, you ended up clashing with that pompous buffoon and his perfectly coiffed hair. He was notorious for his unethical practices, but since rich white assholes were incapable of being fired, it was your self-appointed job to protect Will from him.

Though, recently, you had to admit two things.

One: you may have been the tiniest bit biased by your fondness for Will, and two: your feelings toward Dr. Chilton had been softening.

Not long ago, Chilton had barely survived being tortured by a former patient, Abel Gideon. The sight of him on a medical gurney cradling his own internal organs in his arms was a horror that would be burned into your brain for life. He may have been an incompetent jerk whom Gideon had every right to want revenge on, but he didn’t deserve that.

You didn’t think he would survive, but in a few weeks, like magic, he was back to play Will’s jailer, a cane in hand but no other sign of the trauma he endured.

Too little sign of the trauma he endured, honestly. After all, he was only hurt because of his own meddling—using psychic driving to convince Gideon he was the Chesapeake Ripper in order to achieve the fame and glory of having treated the Chesapeake Ripper.

But no, he was still bursting full of egotistical remarks and ambition, if a little short on organs.

“I see the experience hasn’t humbled you one bit,” you commented upon his return, when he gloated about the accolades he would receive after writing a book about Will Graham.

“Funny, it almost sounds like you wanted me to be gutted,” he retorted in a pleasantly upbeat voice with a sharp undercurrent.

His rich-boy superiority complex did make it tempting to punch him in the face… but disembowelment was going too far.

Something changed after that. It used to be that you couldn’t wait to get away from him, but now you found yourself wanting to stay and fight longer, your cheeks burning with indignation. Days you weren’t visiting Will, you went to the mental hospital to crusade against Dr. Chilton over ethics and his lack thereof, just for the excuse to see him. 

The two of you exchanged cutting banter the same as always, but you found yourself being more civil... or, at least, your heated arguments felt more playful. Sure, you still called him a dirty slimeball, but now it was a friendly roast and not because you hated his (slightly damaged) guts.  

It was strange. Every time you argued your heart would pound against your chest in anticipation, but you couldn’t figure out why.

Your breaking point came when you barged into his office and discovered him spying on patients’ private conversations with visitors—headphones on, feet up on his desk, holding a Montblanc fountain pen in his mouth and swirling it with his tongue.

He didn’t startle at your unexpected entrance, as a person who feels shame might do when caught in the middle of something so sleazy. He was completely unrepentant about it. Sliding a headphone off one ear and picking up a glass of top-shelf scotch from his desk, he took a slow sip, and smugly asked, “Can I help you?”

What could you say to that? You felt your face heating up, so you turned on your heel without a word, and left. You finally understood what you had been feeling.  

You always took him for a coward—the type who runs crying to mommy the moment his knee gets scraped. But he’d been tortured, brutally, and still wasn’t running away. He got more than what was coming to him, but he didn’t change his manipulative psychiatric practices or grating personality at all.

As infuriating as it was… his resilience was sexy.

Like a switch was flipped, every time you sniped insults at each other, instead of picturing strangling him with his tie, you imagined blindfolding him with it, tying him to a bed and spanking him with his cane. He had the cutest way of shimmying his shoulders when he was trying to be coy about a secret, and that smarmy little crooked smile he made when he thought he was winning used to infuriate you, but now it caused an aching between your thighs. 

After weeks of this, he cornered you in an empty hallway. “Do not think I haven’t noticed you are here far more often than you need to be. You didn’t even talk to Will Graham the last two occasions you paid a visit. What is it, then? What’s your angle? Keeping an eye on me for Crawford?”

“Isn’t it obvious?,” you scoffed. “I want to fuck you.”

“Huh,” he vocalized with detachment.

You’d expected him to be flustered by the bold declaration, or to jump on you immediately. Not to coldly look you up and down like you’d handed him a strange puzzle piece to analyze.

It must have been a long time since he’d been intimate, considering his reputation as a Grade A piece of shit. But apparently he wasn’t that desperate.

To be honest, you weren’t even sure what his orientation was. You may have been completely off base.

“Fascinating, really. For someone who called me… what was it? A ‘morally corrupt assclown,’ you must be in a dire state to consider propositioning me. You know, as a respected psychiatrist, I can recommend some literature on sexual dysfunctions.”

A cold, satisfied smile spread over his thin lips and you realized if your attraction was one-sided, he held all the cards. You made the mistake of delivering him a massive advantage over you, and you were going to make a fool of yourself. He was relishing the power.

There was still time to backtrack on the vulnerability you’d accidentally exposed while he was still trying to figure out if you were joking. But you were around profilers, psychiatrists, and investigators with hidden agendas all day, and you grew weary of conversations having ten layers of meaning and obfuscation.

The honest truth was, it would be nice to get laid.

“Well? Are you interested or not?” You dropped your voice and stepped closer to him, inches from his face. He smelled so clean, like hospital antiseptic and spicy aftershave. His breath hitched as your leg brushed the inside of his thigh—that’s it, that was the reaction you wanted. “Do you want to fuck me, Dr. Chilton?”

Oh, he did.

A barely audible whine rose from the back of his throat, and his hands were around your waist. “I suppose so,” he said, still a little too clinically, though a hard bob of his Adam’s apple betrayed him. His eyes met yours. They were the color of an ocean wave crashing on the beach; an honest, North Atlantic wave that you might find at Chesapeake Bay—not some perfect crystal-blue wave from a tropical paradise. “It couldn’t hurt to let off some steam.”

“Precisely,” you nodded. Just two adults doing the logical thing. That’s right. No squishy vulnerable feelings that could be used against you. Just relieving tension.

He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you hastily into the nearest unoccupied space. The door to the cramped supply closet clicked shut, and he leered at you with eyes that seemed to glow with hunger in the dark. You felt pleasantly like a small animal trapped with a wolf about to be devoured. A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine and sent heat rushing between your thighs. Before you knew it you were flipped standing with him pressed against your back, pumping into you with muffled moans—as frenzied with desperation as you’d fantasized he would be—as you braced against a metal shelf crammed with pens and packs of post-it notes.

He was strong. You had expected his suit to hide the flaccid body of a sedentary academic, fragranced of old books, but when he pulled your hips into his your body moved.

After finishing inside you with a ragged, tortured breath (barely choking back a too-vulnerable moan), he hastily zipped himself back into his pants and left you to clean yourself up on your own, without so much as a nod to ceremony or pleasantries. That was the end of that, you figured—exactly what you asked for, no more no less. Little did you know, Dr. Chilton had no intention of leaving things off at one quickie in a closet.

Before you left, he pulled you into his office and provoked you with lewd remarks about fucking you on his desk—so you knocked the clutter off it onto the floor to make room. He shrieked like a toddler as his very important papers and very expensive office décor went flying, having neither thought through the actual consequences of desk-sex nor expected you to call his bluff. His beautiful seawater eyes went wide as you pushed him back on the broad mahogany surface and climbed on top of him. Then you were riding him, chasing your climax with his well-manicured hands kneading your ass cheeks, pulling you deeper and deeper with each stroke of your hips. And still you wanted more. You wanted to fuck him into next week.

And then you were in his unreasonably lavish home, in his unreasonably, decadently oversized bed, his mouth feverishly working your heat, and you repaying him by making him come over and over until it was torture, until he could no longer hold back the whimpering sobs of pleasure as he fell apart, and he passed out from fatigue. You collapsed next to him on the bed, panting, sweating, and shaking with over-stimulation.

For a moment you considered the snoring body of an unsavory man you had exhausted into submission, lying naked and leaking fluids onto two-thousand-thread-count sheets, and briefly considered calling a cab. Then you went to the bathroom for a towel to wipe him off before curling yourself around him under the covers.

  *****

Morning found you nestling in his soft light brown chest hair, tracing your fingers along the raised red scar that divided a third of his torso like an autopsied cadaver. He flinched a little when you touched it, but remained impassive. A reservoir of sympathy swelled up within you.

“You pity me. That is why you wanted to sleep with me all of a sudden,” he said, deciphering the meaning of your look. “I’m not complaining. Apparently, to be fortunate in bed requires only that one be tragically disfigured. You are drawn to wounded birds.”

The corner of your lip screwed up like you swallowed something bitter. It’s… probably not healthy to desire someone purely out of pity, but he was right. You never felt anything for him until you felt sorry for him. But that wasn’t all there was to your relationship… was it?

“The instinct to nurture and the instinct to hurt are both strong human emotions. They’re primal,” you speculated.

“Trying your hand at psychoanalysis? I would leave it to the professionals, darling.”

“Would you?” You tilted your head innocently. “Then how come you’re still practicing?”

He clutched his chest and feigned being wounded.

Grinning, you buried your face back into his hair. “Arguing with you was always exciting… trying to land a stinging blow. Now I see you hurt, and I feel the need to protect you, too. You tickle my instincts, I suppose. Like cold ice cream on hot pie. What can I say?”

“Hmm, a plausible hypothesis,” he nodded idly at the ceiling, one brow lifted. “I’m not sure that that is any better, but as previously mentioned, your motivations are not of particular interest to me.”

“Charming. Let me phrase it another way, then: You have a very punchable face, but since you’ve already been eviscerated, it takes the fun out of it.”

“Well, and I was going to offer you breakfast…”

[lightcomingthroughthedarkness]

Why we had to see that Becho Flashback and the Bellarke of it all

Alright, this is going to be a long one. 

That flashback, and the way it is presented to the audience, exists for two reasons.

1.      To enhance Echos’s storyline and struggles

2.      Frankly? Because Jason was answering the criticism that we never saw Becho get together. Whether we like the Flashback or not, he doesn’t give a crap.

Basically, two birds. One giant stone, lol

Bellamy approaches Echo, they immediately start to joke around, indicating that while Bellamy hasn’t necessarily had a close relationship with her, he also hasn’t been openly antagonistic either. However Bellamy is still Bellamy, so they gave him 3 years, lol. Bellamy makes an effort to connect with Echo and the way to do that is to talk about the things that have made Bellamy dislike and distrust her in the past. It is afterall what binds them, their (shared) experiences. Echo’s actions that caused Bellamy pain. Octavia, Gina/MW. Echo has since season 2 looked up to Bellamy and we can see in this scene that she does feel some sort of way about her actions (her reluctance to look Bellamy in the eye). But Echo actually opens up the POSSIBILITY of working through those experiences when she starts to talk about them. 

Bellamy shuts her down though. Bellamy’s intention here is to reach out to Echo, to be the leader he needs to be to keep them alive, to be the head and the heart the way Clarke asked him to be, to make sure that Clarke’s death was not in vain. That means Bellamy needs to grow and he needs to forgive. He cannot live with anger and resentment. It won’t keep them alive and it won’t help them work together to achieve Bellamy’s greatest goal between season 4 and season 5; TO GET BACK TO EARTH. That’s why Bellamy is all ”family this, together that, unit here” bla bla, lol.

Next up. Their strengths and weaknesses.  Bellamy believes Octavia is his weakness because of the lengths he is willing to go for her and everything he’d do for her (Bellamy has since learned that Octavia is not his responsibility and love does not bring you down). Echo says Octavia is his strength. However they are coming at it from two different perspectives. Echo looks at Bellamy’s LOYALTY and dedication to Octavia as his strength. Someone to fight for, to commit to. It’s not that Echo is thinking ”Bellamy’s LOVE for his sister is the strength”. It’s what Bellamy does with it and how he shows that love that Echo draws from. Meanwhile from Bellamy’s point of view, it’s his unwavering love for his sister that motivates him. LOVE. Not a sense of loyalty for the sake of loyalty. It’s not that Echo can’t see love as motivation, it’s that Echo has no control of her feelings and how to express them or separate them. To Echo loyalty is love, dedication and commitment. And they are, depending on how you use them a way to express that love. So Bellamy being loyal to Octavia and going above and beyond for her, is his way of showing love, in Echo’s eyes. Even if Bellamy has to do horrible things for Octavia. Bellamy however does not see it that way. Perspective, people.

Which Bellamy points out to Echo. Her weakness is her loyalty. She will do things she knows is wrong for the people she is loyal to. That’s not right. You also have to do the right thing for the right reasons. Blindly following someone and not question them or yourself is how you end up with.. well, Echo. Or how Bellamy could have ended up had he stayed with Pike. Echo is taken aback by Bellamy’s comment here. ”How can loyalty be a bad thing”. ”it is when you do the wrong things because of it”. Bellamy has already learned this lesson. We’ve seen how loyalty is all Echo knows. She has done horrible things for other people because that is how Echo functions and how she shows love and dedication. But love does not destroy you. Love lifts you up. For Echo right now in season 7? We are seeing how losing Bellamy, her king, is detroying her because her overwhelming grief right now is the chaos that are ALL her feelings ALL AT ONCE and she does not control them or understand them and she does not know how to seperate them. Bellamy learned to separate his love for Octavia and feeling responsible for her. Echo has not. Who the fuck is Echo and what does she feel?

Which is why Bellamy ASKS Echo to be loyal to him and spacekru. Bellamy believes that Spaeckru are a family and will do things for the right reasons because he/they have learned after their experiences on the ground to do better (in season 5). Bellamy will go back down to the ground, be the leader Clarke wanted him to be and they will do things differently and better than before. If Bellamy and spacekru can show Echo a different way, then Echo will learn and do differently too. Right? 

Shape-shifter Bellamy calls it like it is. Echo is a shape-shifter. She will become who she needs to become for other people. That’s dangerous if you do not have a sense of self. And we have seen Echo become who she needs to become because of the people she follows. She was who she was for Nia, for Roan, for Bellamy and for Spacekru. When she follows them, she is what they need from her. Which is why Bellamy belives that Echo has changed when we get back on the ground in season 5. Bellamy is running around all like ”Echo has changed. She proved herself on the ring”. And everyone was like ???? The irony that Bellamy called her out on being a shape-shifter and then he couldn’t see that Echo has become one for him as well. (Which is why Bellamy yells at Echo in 6x04 because she isn’t acting the way Bellamy needs her to act meanwhile Echo doesn’t know how Bellamy needs her to act because she can’t separate those feelings and because she doesn’t know that Bellamy actually wants her to act like Clarke). So why can’t Bellamy see that or understand Echo?

The Bellamy part of the flashback Like I said, he is trying to be the man and the leader he needs to be in order to make sure Clarke’s death was not in vain. He carries Clarke with him and he can’t bear the thought of letting Clarke down. So The Head we must become. 

Notice how Bellamy barely lets Echo speak. Notice how Bellamy interrupts her and is all ”Echo, Echo…” when she is trying to actually say something. Every time Echo brings up the past, Bellamy is there to push her to the future. Basically ”lets not look back, we’ve all done bad things, we need to be a team, we need to move forward” etc. Bellamy cannot stay in the past. That’s where all his pain is. That’s where he had to do horrible things. That’s where he left his sister alone. That’s where Clarke is dead. Bellamy is so traumatized by what happened that he is desperately pushing for the future. By the grace of God herself, Bellamy will bring them home and he will not allow Clarke’s death to be in vain. Has Bellamy admitted to himself why he is runing towards the future so hard? On the Surface, sure. But I Think any deeper would have been too painful for him. Logically he knows they need to move on and survive. But admitting to himself that Clarke’s death broke him and that’s why he is so adamant to push everything aside probably would have made it worse for him (see how he lashed out at Murphy for mentioning Clarke’s name in season 5).

The kiss Well… Why did we need to see them kiss? First of all, straight up because of the backlash from fans that we never got to see Becho get together. Here we kill two birds with one stone. They were gonna do a flashback either way, might as well answer that question too. Bellamy and Echo could have had that conversation without kissing and nothing would have changed, we would have understood the message. But you don’t spend time and money in Hollywood for nothing. You got the actors, you got the set, you got the time and you got the (new) chance to explain an undeveloped story? You kill two birds with one stone. But I believe there is a third stone in this equation. 

”How do we show Echo becoming a shape-shifter right in front of us while also showing the audience where her complex relationship to Bellamy came from?”

You make Bellamy make the move on Echo. Bellamy shows her kindness, willingness to give her a new home and a new leader. Echo is willing to become loyal to Bellamy (shape-shifting moment from Echo kom Azgeda happens right in front of us, she becomes Echo kom spacekru) BUT how do we also make Echo confused about her feelings for Bellamy as we have seen her question in 7x01? They kiss and turns their spy/king dynamic on its ass. But also, most importantly, it keeps Bellarke from becoming canon. Echo pulls back because she did not expect that kiss from Bellamy. Bellamy is literally pleading with her, look at his damn face, he needs this, he needs to move on, he needs to work towards something or the past will swallow him whole. He literally kissed her so she’d stop talking about what is ”real”. Echo questioning what is real on the ring, means quesationing Bellamy’s belief that Clarke’s death will not have been in vain, they will do better, they must do better so they have to believe in it too. And thus begins Echo’s very complicated relationship with Bellamy. She gives him her loyalty and he becomes her leader. But they are human, alone and both attractive and she likes the kiss, so they both give in to that attraction. And it keeps Bellamy motivated on the future he so desperately thinks they can have; by moving on, by surving, by going back to the ground, by showing Clarke’s ”spirit” that he did it. Her Death was not in vain. Bellamy’ s intentions are good but oh boy did they come from his Clarke trauma. And that’s not fair on Echo. But she also needed him to follow and it worked on the ring, where nothing could touch them and there were no risks. Doesn’t work with Clarke back in Bellamy’s Life. Bellamy came alive when he got Clarke back. Echo lost her mind when she lost Bellamy because she lost her identity. Which Octavia talks to her about too, since Octavia lost her identity when Lincoln died.

In that one flashback we get to see how Becho got together (problem fixed), where Echo’s ACTIVE identity struggles started, where the lines between her king/her boyfriend are blurried, where Bellamy is desperately trying to be the man and leader Clarke asked him to be and ultimately the very real reasons Bellamy and Echo do not work. Bellamy told her that her loyalty is her weakness and still she has not worked through that, which we now get to see and it is not pretty. That’s not to say that they didn’t grow to love each other and become a family too (”We’re family and nothing will change that - 5x01). They did, they had to. Spacekru shared 6 years. But Jason wanted to tell us where Becho came from and why they came to be. Rooted in trauma. And instead of helping each other grow the way Bellarke do, they instead hold each other back. Echo needs to break free for herself and Bellamy needs his person, Clarke.

[arshipweek]

AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

Banner credit

This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse.  Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent  world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

[uhhhhhhhhhsblogyea]

♤| dragon ball shapeshifter au

PART 2

part one

tw: profanity !!!! some kakavege too bc im a sucker for soft moments and hurt/comfort

also finally doing this one on my computer !! so now it wont be a huge post

so what the hell!!!!! kakarot is told to kill vegeta or... bring crops? theres something fishy about that, and he noticed it in friezas behavior, and word choice

what was with calling him a creation??

this is nuts!! he needs to tell vegeta....

buuuut he needs sleep, maybe this is all a bad dream!!....?

now he cant sleep

"your... lovely vegeta?? my lovely vegeta..." wow!!! blush moment, heart race time ////

but wait wasnt he just told to KILL vegeta???

its only been a month of meeting and this is already happening???

there's so many questions kakarots head hurts, so he makes sure he gets to bed... thinking about vegeta for comfort

was that a good idea????? who knows !!

the next day kakarot thinks about it, sticking in his room most of the time and staring at the box cutter

hell tell vegeta! thats it, perfect

he gets up, leaving the house late at 6:30 pm

[ zarbon and dodoria watch him from afar, monitoring the "progress" ]

kakarot hurries to vegetas apartment, hurriedly running up the stairs in the complex and skidding to a halt in front of the shapeshifters door, panting heavily

he knocks on the door

kakarot forgets the fact hes literally in a black tanktop and grey sweatpants but theres no time for that no one cares

but what is vegeta does?

ph god oh god hes not presentable !!!

shit he knocked already !! fu-

vegeta opens the door, seeing kakarot in surprise, panic, and... covered in sweat. he fucking ran! "kakarot what the hell are you doing here!? get inside before you get people to come out an look."

he opens the door and pulls the taller guy inside

"tell me why youre here. clearly theres something wrong."

"a short guy broke into my house while i was sleeping a-and his name was like... freezer or something?? freezy? anyway!! he told me to kill you and if i dont to come to his facility. it doesnt sound right! i dont know what to do vegeta-oh my gosh i dont want to do that i dont i would n-"

"kakarot!"

"w-what?"

"breathe. youre panicking, its getting on my nerves. start from the beginning, clown!"

somehow his insults calmed the human man down, him taking a deep breath and swallowing harshly

he starts from the beginning once vegeta sits him down on the couch and gets him to calm down

vegeta is pissed frieza dragged kakarot into it

speaking of which how tf did that rat bastard find out about kakarot? was he spying on them?? vegeta growls, his tentacles lashing side to side

it freaks out kakarot even more causing him to jump and push himself back into the seat

(kakarot does this cause hes afraid vegeta is about to eat his heart, like what frieza mentioned)

kakarot also failed to mention the quote from the lizard; "he wants your heart in more than one way"

wth does that mean???

anyway, vegeta asks to see the weapon frieza gave kakarot

kakarot hands him the box cutter

a box cutter??????

he takes it but it sears his hand, making him drop it and wrap his other hand around his wrist, groaning in pain and looking at the burn mark

whatever the box cutter was coated in is meant to hurt vegeta

rly badly! but kakarot freaks out and hurries over, nearly tripping over his feet

"vegeta!!! are you okay?!?? im so sorry i didnt mean to- i didnt know, that it would do that!!! want me to grab something or?"

"holy SHIT kakarot calm down!!!"

"u-uhm sorry vegeta" he looks down ashamed

FUCK !! his heart oh god oh god that hurt why why why hes so cute i didnt mean to hurt his feelings fuck!! vegeta bites his lip

"its fine you didn't know"

"b-but still!"

"no buts, go get the first aid from the bathroom, you can wrap my hand in gauze as payment." vegeta crossses his arms, letting his hand lop to the side so he doesnt hurt it anymore than it already is. why does the damn clown have to get his way to vegetas heart like this it isnt fair !!

"yes!! one minute"

kakarot runs to the bathroom to get his burnt hand wrapped up

after the ordeal, they decide to wrap the thing in cloth and throw it in an empty shoe box so vegeta doesnt get injured by it anymore

kakarot bets on frieza being patient enough for him to show in the morning, feeling exhausted just from worrying so much

vegeta kind of realizes how pent up kakarot is cause of frieza

vegeta sits down on the couch next to him and takes his hand, pushing kakarots head onto his lap. "relax"

HOLY sHIT MAN !!!! hes laying on vegetas lap, and its... kind of comfortable

he feels the weight of vegeta's tenctacle on his back, it feeling like someone hugging him and cuddling him its really nice !! kakarot already begins to feel a bit better

vegeta on the other hand feels... gushy and embarrassed that hes doing this

once he notices kakarot getting tired he cards his fingers through kakarot's black messy hair, that happens to actually be quite soft

he pets and messes with it for awhile, it lulling kakarot right into a deep sleep, worries melting away

kakarot's peaceful sleep relaxes vegeta a bit, hes still worried about whatever frieza has planned. he probably shouldnt let kakarot go to the lizard's facility tomorrow morning

he sighs, looking back down at the man sleeping on his lap

he might as well indulge himself

there will be a part three <3

[randomposterofstuff]

Why I still appreciate AOT/SNK despite how it ended

Hi, all!

I still have a lot of thoughts running rampant in my mind. I plan to express each idea individually. By this, I mean that one idea will be the subject matter of one post. I have many thoughts, and it would be a really long post if I include all of them in just one. Haha.

But for this particular post, I would like to express that even though I have mixed feelings about the conclusion, I still appreciate Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin. I admit that I only joined the fandom recently. Haha. But I became invested in the story and its characters fairly quickly.

I have mixed feelings about the ending. And as of now, they lean more towards disappointment and frustration. (I will elaborate more on what I think of it in another post.) Haha. But despite this, the series still gave us many, many incredible scenes and exciting plot lines. Furthermore, it also offered critical insights on complex subject matters.

Fair warning: This is another lengthy post. Haha.

A. It is entertaining

AOT/SNK is very entertaining. The action scenes alone had us on the edges of our seats. And those epic fight scenes were nicely complemented by compelling storylines involving deception, mystery, and power struggles. A personal favorite scene of mine is Levi Ackerman’s fight scene against Kenny’s Anti-Personnel Squad. The action and the conspiracy which led to it were amazing and jaw-dropping. (Side note: Ackerman Supremacy forever!)

B. It offers critical input on relevant issues

But the series is more than just enjoyable. It is also critical and reflective. Many people have said that AOT/SNK is a commentary on the many ills that plague human civilization and society. And I agree with this.

The series has invited us to think critically about war, violence, and trauma and their various effects on different people. It also has encouraged us to reflect on the power of information and perspectives.

1. AOT/SNK on war, trauma, violence and their effects

It showed us how a once innocent girl like Mikasa Ackerman became a highly skilled combatant because she feared losing her loved ones to violence. After witnessing her parents get killed in front of her while she was helpless to do anything, Mikasa became motivated to fight to protect the very few precious people left in her life.

It showed us how a former thug like Levi Ackerman realized that he could put his exceptional skills to better use by staying with the Survey Corps/Scouting Regiment instead of returning to the Underground. When he lost Isabel and Furlan to Titans, he felt unadulterated rage and pain. This also caused him to see the threat that the Titans posed to humans and influenced his decision to remain as a soldier.

It showed us how a once self-centered Jean Kirchstein transformed into a dedicated soldier and reliable leader after seeing the decimated corpse of his closest friend and companion. Jean’s change of heart was admirable. However, it was unfortunate that the change was caused by something as tragic as losing Marco.

It also showed us how a cowardly Floch Forester became a violent and narrow-minded extremist. When he was first introduced, he was afraid of dying in battle. But the war and struggle against Marley caused him to view anyone who wasn’t an Eldian as the enemy, even if they were only unarmed civilians. Ironically, his extremist views had made him a braver fighter. At one point, he had even told his allies to dedicate their hearts to the new Eldian Empire.

2. AOT/SNK on the effects of prejudice, propaganda, and indoctrination

I think that the series had also brilliantly portrayed how prejudice, propaganda, and indoctrination affect different people from different sides.

i. Propaganda in Marley

It showed us how the current generations of Eldians were forced to pay for their ancestors' sins. The old Eldian empire under King Fritz and his successors until Karl Fritz mercilessly conquered lands and destroyed many lives. Understandably, this caused the other nations and peoples of the olden times to hate Eldians. However, this hatred was unfortunately passed down from generation to generation. The crimes of the old Eldian Empire were committed thousands of years ago. Yet, the Eldians who were borncenturies afterward were still despised and viewed as devils.

This millennia-old hatred was also used by Marley to spread propaganda to keep itself in power and to keep Eldians in the internment zones across the world in check. They taught Eldians that because of their ancestors' sins and their supernatural ability to transform into Titans, they were monsters and plagues upon the Earth. They were also taught that they needed to repent to absolve themselves of the crimes of their forefathers.

This propaganda led to many Eldians believing that they deserved to be treated poorly and that they had to work hard to be respected as actual people. This mindset was what allowed the Marleyan Warrior Program to become successful. One privilege that came with being a Warrior of Marley and a family member of such Warrior was being granted honorary Marleyan citizenship. It was viewed as an honor and a sign of respect.

It was because of this that Gabi and Reiner Braun both aspired to become Warriors. Gabi trained as a Warrior because she wanted to prove to the world that there are Eldians who are good people. She herself had admitted that the struggles she faced as an Eldian were what motivated her to work hard. On Reiner’s part, he joined the program because he assumed that becoming an honorary Marleyan would complete his broken family. He thought his Marleyan father would live together with him and his Eldian mother once he became a Warrior. But alas, he was proven wrong since his father rejected him despite his efforts.

On the flip side, it also caused other Eldians to become hateful and resentful of superpowers like Marley. They were tired of being treated as second-class citizens and formed the Eldian Restorationist Movement. The Restorationists believed that Marley was feeding them deceitful propaganda. While this is indeed true, they instead believed that the source of all Titan power, who they reverently called the great Founder Ymir, was a benevolent being who would never harm anyone. It was eventually revealed that this was not true either.

The Restorationists had extreme views. These views caused Grisha Yeager to use his first son Zeke as a means to an end. The Restorationists had wanted to overthrow Marley utilizing the power of the Titans. And Grisha had immediately offered his son without any hesitation to their cause by enrolling him into the Warrior Program to become a spy for them. The Yeager patriarch was so focused and engrossed with their goal that he had neglected to act as an actual father to his then young son. He was more invested in Zeke's progress as a Warrior candidate than in the latter's growth and happiness as his son.

ii. Propaganda in Paradis

It was also revealed that the inhabitants within the Walls were also taught propaganda. As readers and viewers, we all know that the people of Paradis were initially ignorant of the truth of the world and of the Titans because King Karl Fritz erased the memories of the island’s first inhabitants. We all knew that most of them believed that they were the last living humans in the world and that the rest were wiped out by Titans around 100 years ago. The misinformation spread by Karl Fritz endangered the people of Paradis. It cultivated and propagated ignorance which left them vulnerable to attacks from other nations.

As such, they were clueless and defenseless against the Warriors of Marley when they first attacked. And they would’ve continued to be defenseless had it not been for Grisha’s journals and the memory-related powers of Eren’s Attack Titan. The lack of information and the misinformation they received had placed them in great jeopardy.

When the truth came to light, the Eldians of Paradis were divided. One side sought to broker for peace with the other nations. They wished to show that the people of the island mean no harm. The people of this side were willing to overlook the terrible deeds that Marley had committed if it meant that they could finally achieve true peace.

The other side saw the other nations, especially Marley, as enemies who wished to exterminate them. They were disgusted and infuriated by what Marley had done. These Eldians wanted to take arms and fight for the establishment and freedom of the new Eldian Empire.

2. AOT/SNK on the power of narrative in relation to the cycle of hatred

One thing that the series masterfully executed is the portrayal of the importance of narratives.

i. The Paradis Perspective

During the first arc, it was shown how helpless the people inside the Walls were when Titans attacked the Shiganshina District. We also saw the trauma that a young Eren Yeager experienced when he saw his mother get eaten by a Titan. We witnessed first-hand how a young child lost his parents and his home. And how this loss cultivated his understandable anger and became his primary motivation for becoming a soldier for humanity.

Fans, readers, and viewers sympathized and supported Eren because of this. By presenting how the destruction affected him, we all rooted for him and his allies. This narrative also showed us how countless soldiers of the Survey Corps/Scouting Regiment lost their lives during the fight against the Titans. From a spectator's point of view, the Titans were beasts that killed humans who were significantly weaker and smaller than them and monsters that laid waste wherever they went. As such, this perspective had led many of us to resent Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner when they were revealed to be the Colossal, Female, and Armored Titans, respectively.

ii. The Marleyan Perspective

But this all changed when we were shown the Marleyan perspective. When the Marleyan Arc began, we were shown how Eldians on the other side of the sea were poorly treated. We saw how they were brainwashed to believe that Paradis Island's inhabitants were the true devils beyond salvation, whereas they could still be redeemed. When these things were gradually revealed to us, we eventually understood why Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner did the terrible things they did. Because of these revelations, we started to become more sympathetic towards the Warriors.

The power of narrative was especially emphasized in the Raid on Liberio. During Willy Tybur’s declaration of war against Paradis, he revealed the world's true history and King Karl Fritz's plan. He also announced that the founding Titan's power was stolen from the royal family inside the Walls by Eren and that the latter had planned to use it to attach the rest of the world.

Not soon after his announcement, Eren transformed and attacked the people in attendance. The Survey Corps had also arrived to provide manpower and backup. In the process, hundreds of civilians and visiting dignitaries were killed.

All of these things lent credence to the propaganda about Eldians being devils. From the eyes of a bystander, Eren and the Survey Corps were murderers who destroyed a city full of innocents. This was how Gabi Braun viewed them at the time. She was raised with Marley's propaganda. As such, her already present hatred was amplified when she saw her hometown get destroyed and her friends and neighbors get killed in front of her. While her general prejudice towards the Eldians of Paradis was unjustified, the pain and anger she felt during the Raid on Liberio were very much valid and understandable.

iii. On the cycle of hatred and how to end it

It is because of these narratives that the cycle of violence continued on for so long. No one narrative is more right or less wrong than the other. This is because the losses and struggles that each side suffered were all very real and very valid. It is not fair to quantify the validity of a person’s pain.

The neglect and loneliness that Zeke felt as a child were valid. The grief and rage Gabi felt when her friends were killed were also valid. The heartache that Niccolo experienced when Sasha died was also valid. The depression and trauma Reiner sustained after his mission on Paradis Island were likewise valid. The hurt Connie felt when he was betrayed by people he trusted was valid. Jean's sadness at losing Marco and Sasha was valid. The anguish Levi felt when he was left with no choice but to slaughter his transformed comrades was valid. The point here is that no one's pain is more valid than that of others. There are different types of pain, and they are all valid.

It is from these losses and pain that anger stems. Anger is a very valid emotion. However, the way people choose to act on their anger is not always valid. On this, the choice to express anger through violence is the root cause of the cycle of hatred. It is also what perpetuates the vicious cycle. I think that this message was executed well in the scene where Niccolo confronts Gabi and reveals her as Sasha’s killer to the Brauses.

It is also during this scene that the answer to ending the cycle of hatred was explained through the wise words of Mr. Braus.

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 13 of the Attack on Titan anime.

Mr. Braus acknowledged that the world is like a giant forest where violence is nearly always afoot. He understood that violence will continue to exist unless people put a stop to hatred. He sagely advised that it is up to the older generations to bear the sins of the past and their effects and consequences. This is so that the youth of the future could live in peace. And he backed his words with action by choosing not to take revenge on Gabi despite his own grief and pain.

The series also showed that another answer to ending the cycle was through understanding. This was exemplified through Gabi’s character development. Prior to her arrival on Paradis, she thought that its inhabitants were devils that were beyond redemption. But after spending time with the Brauses, she became enlightened. Gabi eventually realized that she was wrong about her prejudices. And it was because of this realization that her hatred disappeared, and she asked for forgiveness.

Screenshot taken from Chapter 118 of the Shingeki no Kyojin manga.

----

Final Words: There are actually a lot more things that the series had touched upon. But I don't think that I can comprehensively cover all of them in this post. Hahaha. In any case, I still like AOT/SNK because overall, it is an epic tale full of action, mystery, intrigue, and most of all, valuable lessons and insights to ponder upon. I know that many fans feel that the ending ruined the series for them. And I understand why they feel that way. But personally, I think that many great things about it deserve to be appreciated. I know that not everyone will agree with me, but this is my take on it.

So, despite my disappointment and issues with Ch. 139, I still thank Isayama-sensei for giving us Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin. Thank you, Isayama! Shinzou Wo Sasageyo!

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Hourglass [Chapter One] The Juror [Orihara Izaya]

Summary: Kirika hates Ikebukuro; the gangs and the crime. All she wants is to survive and live a normal, happy life. However, without help she can't survive on her own.

The Awakusu-kai hire her once they learn of her unusual ability to read and manipulate emotions, and promise to pay her for every job she completes. However, when a job lands her in the clutches of Orihara Izaya - someone from her past - she has to either sacrifice her dream or give the Awakusu the person they have been searching for; a man named Nakura.

The district is blind; its residents carry on without a care, oblivious to the strange happenings around them: the gangs and the crime. I can hardly stomach it. Fear is not a reason for ignorance; silence is not the answer.

But who am I to argue with their reasons?

I work in the shadows of the Awakusu-kai, a member since high school. Though none of this matter. What matters is that I hate my role; lying to the masses; a woman behind a mask.

A juror, Dougen calls me.

So why do I stay? Simple … I need to survive.

Money fixes everything.

“So how much am I getting for this job?”

I turn to Haruya Shiki – executive of the Awakusu – for the answer. He is a handler; the one in charge of caring for me.

“About the same,” he replies. Enough for rent and expenses. “Why? There something you want?”

I hum and follow him through a rundown building set for demolition – I believe sometime next week it's set to be torn down.

“It's nothing. I don't necessarily need them,” I reply.

Running my hand across the wall, paint falls to the floor in chips. I wonder how long this building has been here?

Shiki groans in annoyance. “Come on, kid. You want it something, then ask for it. Boss Dougen says I'm supposed to give you what you want; you're special to us.”

I've been told this countless times. And he's right. No one can do what I can; no one can read and manipulate the emotions of others. I am a valued asset to the Awakusu.

Why not ask for more.

“I want to buy a new wardrobe. My former set is too small on me,” I explain.

He agrees. “When we're done here, I have someone I need to see, then you can go shopping.”

“Thank you, Haruya-san. I appreciate it,” I say with smile.

He briefly nods and continues through the complex. For the remainder of the stroll, we don't speak. Business comes first. Leading me to an apartment at the end of a deserted hall, Shiki knocks then opens the door and allows me to enter first.

I see a man; he's rather young – perhaps younger than me. He sits on a worn-down couch in the living room, eyes wide in fear; eyes that move with me as I move.

In the corner is another man.

I know well who he is. I have seen him before during previous jobs. His name is not important, never has been; what is important is that whoever this young man on the couch is, he's done something to anger the Awakusu, something bad.

Ignoring the executioner, I take a seat beside the accused. He is beyond scared; I can tell and I don't blame him.

Beads of sweat are present across his forehead, wetting down his short bangs. His scared eyes dart between Shiki and I desperately as if he's confused.

“Easy, kid.”

Shiki stands in front of us.

“Who is the woman? Ya said it would only be you,” the man says with unease.

Shiki nods. “She's a partner of mine. Don't mind her. She's here to listen.”

“I'm Kirika,” I say while extending my hand. “It's nice to meet you.”

He stares at me a moment, then shakes my hand. He is terrified. I take a calm and deep breath, faking a sense of ease. His tense shoulders begin to droop and as expected, my influence begins to work.

“You good?”

I nod to Shiki.

“Your name is Yamazaki, right? Yamazaki Eita?”

He nods and tries to pull back his hand, but I won't let him. Yamazaki struggles a bit.

“Relax,” Shiki tells him. “Keep your hand in hers.”

Yamazaki stops moving and stares at me. “This some kind of way to tell if I'm lying or not?”

“More or less,” I reply.

Not exactly.

Through skin to skin contact I can read and manipulate the emotional state of another person. Even my emotions can be passed along.

So, if I stay calm, Yamazaki will stay calm.

“Like in those American spy movies? You can feel my heartbeat and read when I'm lying.”

I laugh and nod. Whatever keeps me at ease.

“Focus, Kirika.”

Shiki crosses his arms and deeply sighs. “I have some questions.”

He doesn't wait for Yamazaki to consent before he starts.

“The merchandise we had you deliver. Where did it go?”

I don't honestly care. Knowing the Awakusu the merchandise can be anything from guns and drugs to people or animals. My only job is to listen and read.

“To the buyer in Ginza like the order said,” Yamazaki mentions.

Shiki narrows his eyes. “So why did the Buyer inform us that it didn't? He claims he never even got notified about the truck coming in.”

Fear radiates inside him. Yamazaki shakes his head and laughs. “I did as you asked. I took the truck to Ginza and handed off the merchandise to some guy named Nakura who took the truck to the buyer. You have to believe me.”

“You sure that's how it went down?”

He nods. “Yes ... I swear.”

I ease my hand from his and excuse myself from the room, going back into the hallway. Shiki comes out moments later, waiting for an answer.

“He told the truth. Whoever this Nakura person is has the merchandise.”

Shiki takes out his cell and dials a number. I hear him tell the caller that everything is good, then he hangs up.

“You ready?”

More than ready.

He leads me outside the complex and onto the street. There is no one around; no witnesses to hear the gunshot if Yamazaki had lied.

I'm thankful he didn't.

“Something wrong?”

He motions for me to follow him and I do so.

“No … it's nothing,” I lie.

He hums. “If you say so, kid. The money will be in your account by the time we get to Shinjuku.”

I pucker a brow. “What's in Shinjuku?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Shiki grins. “It's not what, it's who. We have to meet with an informant. And who better to ask about this Nakura person than him.”

I honestly don't care about this informant. All I want is to shop.

We head to the subway and board without much to say. It takes about nineteen minutes to get to Shinjuku, then a ten-minute walk to the building the informant is in.

“He does well for an informant,” I say in awe upon seeing how large the building is.

Shiki nods. “Everyone in Tokyo uses him.”

Seems dangerous to be out in the open, without a care as to who he might anger. Oh well. To each his own.

We wait outside a door on the top floor until it opens. A woman motions us in with annoyance in her tone and orders us to sit down.

“Don't be so cruel, Namie. How are we to get clients if you scare them away?”

That voice sounds familiar.

Namie rolls up her eyes and leaves the room as we sit on the couch. An identical couch sits parallel to the one we are on with a table between the two.

And on the left is a computer desk; the person who scolded Namie is in the chair, facing towards the window away from us.

“I have another job for you, Izaya.”

Izaya? Could it be him?

My face heats up. Please don't be him.

“And here I thought I'd be bored all day.”

Izaya stands and comes around the desk, meeting my wide eyes. He stares a moment, then grins and sits on the opposite couch.

How unfortunate. I never thought I'd see Izaya again. He looks the same as he did in high school.

“It's good to see you again, Kiri-chan.”

I narrow my eyes. “Likewise, Orihara-kun.”

“You two know each other?”

Izaya laughs. “We're old high school friends.”

No, we're not. We've never been friends, or close for that matter.

“You both can catch up later,” Shiki mentions. “I need to find someone. His name is Nakura from the Ginza district.”

Izaya puckers a brow. “A last name, perhaps? Or an online name?”

“I considered that probability,” Shiki mentions.

An online name? That might prove hard to find.

“And what would you like me to do once I find Nakura? Destroy his life?”

Shiki disagrees with a shake of his head. “Call us once you locate him and we'll take over from there.”

“Scary,” Izaya teases.

He has no idea.

The Awakusu will kill Nakura; no excuses. For his sake I hope he escapes from Ikebukuro and stays off the grid.

“You’ll get the money once you're done,” Shiki concludes.

Izaya nods and leans over the table, extending his hand to me. “It was nice seeing you again, Kiri-chan. Don't be a stranger and come see me some time.”

Not a chance.

I stare with uncertainty at his open hand, but take it regardless of my worries.

Sheer excitement runs through him. What could he be thinking?

Izaya knows too well my unusual gift. I did use it against him time and time again.

My worry grows.

[drsilverfish]

The Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of Despair - 15x09 The Trap

Hey everone,

I’m just catching up British time, as usual, and getting down my initial thoughts before I jump in and see what you’ve all been up to.

The much-anticipated Purgatory prayer episode - here we go!

First off - Chuck is a lying liar who lies, and also, how bad was his vamp Winchester bros script?! We know it’s a script, because he asks Sam - “So, what d’ya think?” writer-style, after AU!Bobby executes Vamp!Sam. I thought Bobo did great work here, distinguishing (for us) between his own writing and Chuck’s sucky (ha ha) vamp-Chesters ending. And oh boy, does Bobo torch the “Butch and Sundance going out together in blaze of glory” SPN scenario, because it’s one of Chuck’s shitty versions. I think we can rest assured we’re not gonna get that! 

“All good things must come to an end,” Chuck says, holding up a scalpel in the Lucky (pink) Elephant (in the room, ahem Destiel) Casino. Bobo’s meta way of telling us that yes, of course, there is pain to be endured (by us) along the way, before our heroes get their freedom. Pain, because Supernatural, our favourite show, is ending.

I loved the double-structure of the episode, which balanced Sam and Eileen’s story with Dean and Cas’ story - past, present and future folded into one another; see-sawing between the twin axes of hope and despair. 

The Triffid of Hope:

Isn’t this shot (and its symbolism) great? Dean is framed between the Purgatory-Triffid and the awesome three-eyed skull of a dead Leviathan (the “third eye”, in Indian spiritual traditions, symbolising higher self-knowledge).

Leviathan dude: “There’s a blossom, that grows out of the soil when we die.”

Ah-ha - I knew all the death symbolism in Michael’s God-locking spell had to mean something. It just didn’t happen the way I thought it would (Cas dying in Purgatory).

Instead, the Leviathan blossom is a monster-corpse feeding flower - it grows from death. And so it is a perfect metaphor for hope, linked to all the old vegetation Gods (like Osiris, like the myth of Persephone) as well as to those heroic underworld journeys, of Gilgamesh and Orpheus and Inanna which @prairiedust and I were talking about previously in relation to Purgatory 2.0. Because, from death, springs new life (just as Spring follows Winter) and from an underworld journey comes deeper self-knowledge and psychic growth (a la Jung). 

On a meta level, this is Bobo’s message to us too - yes the show has to “die”, but who knows what new and wondrous things will be born from its ��corpse”. 

Dean was previously the one, of the two Winchester brothers, who’d lost hope as result of the “Welcome to the End” revelations about Chuck’s active machinations in their lives. Dean was the one who couldn’t figure out what was real especially his relationship with Cas:

Dean: “I can’t figure out what’s God and what’s real, and it’s driving me crazy” (15x06 Golden Time). 

He was the one who’d said (as emphasised in this week’s re-cap): “It’s God, Sam... How the Hell are we supposed to fight God?” (15x05 Proverbs 17:3). 

But, in Purgatory 2.0, Dean got his hope back. 

Why? 

We already know why, from watching Dean pivot from suicidal in 13x05 Advanced Thanatology, to happy cowboy cosplay in 13x06 Tombstone, as soon as he got Cas back from death. Cas is intimately tied to Dean’s sense of faith and hope.

And in Purgatory 2.0, Dean finally finds (some of) his words and gets his relationship with Cas back on track, and in so doing, he recovers that faith and hope. 

Hence that shot of him lying between death (the Leviathan skull) and the Triffid of Hope. Because Dean’s underworld journey to Purgatory 2.0 brings clarity to hs heart, just as it did last time. In Purgatory 1.0, “It felt pure”; in Purgatory 1.0, Dean’s mission was, “Where’s the angel?” In Purgatory 1.0, Dean let himself love Cas again (as I’ve said before) without guilt, despite the things Godstiel/ Levi!Cas had done, to Sam, and to the world.

In Purgatory 2.0, Dean (just like Sam, in the parallel story) is on the clock. Time is ticking - the rift Michael opened is finite:

 And so, in losing Cas for several frantic hours as the clock runs out, Dean finds clarity, just as he did before, and he prays (on his knees no less):

Dean: “Cas, whereever you are, it’s not too late. I should have stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go...”

And Dean cries as he prays, and there is absolutely no doubt, in those tears, and in that apology, that he loves Cas (although the text continues to embrace ambiguity as to the nature of that love). 

Imagine - Dean must also be reliving the last time they were in Purgatory together, when Cas actively chose to stay behind, which broke Dean’s heart so much he re-wrote his own memory. In the land of monsters once more, Dean is, finally, terrified it’s all going to happen again (because he pushed Cas away this time). 

As a romantic love-story, of course, it’s still subtext. The glass-closet still structures the narrative. We still get the plausible deniability “bromance” of; “Cas, you’re my best friend.”

And you know, it’s totally OK to feel disappointed, heart-sore, stricken or enraged about that. Nothing throws the heteronormativity of our world more into relief than watching Sam have a beautiful and tender kiss with Eileen (and I totally buy and love their relationship) when their love-story has had a tenth of the back-story and build-up that exists between Dean and Cas, whilst Dean and Cas get a hug (albeit a clearly very emotional one):

I think “queerbaiting” is, partly, a receiver-effect. Meaning, it’s partly subjective. So, some people may feel “queer-baited” by the show and others may not. It’s certainly perfectly legitimate to feel the pain of the closet, of almost-but-not-quite representation (and many queer fans have left the show over the years for that reason). The definition of “queerbaiting” however, is complex (and needs its own post). 

For myself, I absolutely do feel the pain of the closet, but I don’t feel a sense of “bad faith” from the writers’ room (and I used to). I certainly trust in Bobo, whose first episode was that paean to break-up angst, 9x06 Heaven Can’t Wait, to be telling Dean and Cas’ love-story as truly, madly and deeply as he can, within the constraints imposed by TPTB (the fact that also happens to suit TPTB is another level we won’t get into here). 

Because isn’t this the face of a man who had something else to say, when Cas cut him off with, “You don’t have to say it - I heard your prayer” ????

The Stop-Watch of Despair:

Chucks’ mission in 15x09 is to crush Sam’s hope, even as Dean is re-gaining his own hope in Purgatory. 

Chuck does that in two ways. First, he makes Sam and Eileen doubt how much of their love story is real, as he tells them he nudged Eileen’s resurrection along and then used her (unwittingly) to spy on the Bunker.

When Eileen leaves Sam, at the end of the episode, she says: “After what happened, I don’t know what’s real anymore..” 

Obviously, that is paralleled to Dean’s previous doubt about his relationship with Cas, which Cas answered expllicity in 15x02 Raising Hell (although Dean couldn’t take it in at the time):

Dean: “Nothing about our lives is real. Everything that we've lost, everything that we are is because of Chuck. So maybe you can stick your head back in the sand, maybe you can pretend that we actually had a choice. I can't.”

Castiel: “Dean. You asked, "What about all of this is real?" We are.”

Sam plays Cas’ part (but it’s his own part too - I don’t want to reduce Sam and Eileen to mere parallels for Dean and Cas - their story is their own) when he kisses Eileen and says, “I know that was real,” (so, he’s able to hold onto a little hope, after all - go Sam!):

Second, Chuck makes Sam doubt the possibility of a happy ending, for the Winchesters, for the people they love, and, importantly, for the world. If they succeed in locking Chuck away, Chuck claims, Sam and Dean will die as vampires, and monsters will overrun the earth:

We can see here, that Metatron  was right, in 11x20 Don’t Call Me Shurley, when he said to Chuck, of humanity: “They are your greatest creation because they're better than you are.”

Because Chuck manages to get to Sam, psychologically, only because Sam cares, with all his heart, about the fate of the world and all the people in it. 

This is where the time-construction of the episode gets clever. Because, the future-Dean, who Sam sees, has lost hope again. And why? This is the face of a man who has locked Mark-of-Cain crazed Castiel in a Ma’lak box (and don’t forget S14 established the Ma’lak box as a closet metaphor):

And oh damn, we see Cas take on the Mark as part of the God-trapping spell in the “Trifffid of Hope” portion of the story. Does he still have it now, even though Chuck destroyed the spell?

Chuck shows Sam an (apparent) future in which the brother who raised him, has abandoned all hope, which is the true definition of Hell (”Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” - Dante’s Inferno) and that is the other psychological lever Chuck uses to get Sam to despair. His faith in Eileen is shaken, and his faith in Dean is shaken.  

Chuck clearly admires Sam. He almost treats him as a worthy antagonist. He refers to him as “Promethean” and “heroic”, and, in a sense, perhaps he genuinely means it. But, of course, it’s also part of his ploy to destroy Sam’s hope. Prometheus, after all, got his liver eaten out by eagles on the regular, sent by the chief God of Olympus himself, Zeus (aka Chuck) for his pains.

Chuck (to Sam): “You still think you’re the hero of this story. You still think you can win.”

And Chuck succeeds (temporarily) in destroying Sam’s hope, by making him doubt the reality of his love with Eileen, and by making him doubt that his big brother will have the hope necessary to “Carry on my wayward sons,” in the future (all the more believable because Sam has, in fact, seen Dean lose hope before when he’s lost Cas).

But what changes, monumentally, at the end of the episode, is that Dean doesn’t blame Sam. He just says, “That’s good enough for me,” about Sam’s assertion he believed in the Chuck-in-the-Cage future Chuck showed him, and, “We’ll find another way.”

Dean brought the Leviathan blossom of hope back from Purgatory, and with it, deeper self-knowledge about how he has taken his feelings of helplessness out, as anger, against the people he loves best (Sam and Cas). This time, he doesn’t do that. For Team Free Will, once all together again, The Triffid of Hope wins out over The Stopwatch of Doom. 

Just as it’s right, on a psychological level, that locking Chuck in a cage isn’t a viable solution - because external cages are metaphors for the prisons of the mind. Team Free Will’s heroic and metaphysical journey through the realms of the God-machine is also a journey towards emotional wholeness, and freedom from the psychological prisons of their past.  

And so, to conclude, this episode (my favourite of Bobo’s since his first) is filled with love.... and love. 

The Winchester brothers’ love for one another, we see, undoubtedly, in Sam’s narrative. But that’s also interesting, because again, Chuck misses Cas out of the story - and so ends up with a bros-only Butch and Sundance ending. And Bobo emphasises Chuck’s version is stuck in “toxic co-dependency” - because it’s the two of them, as Vampchesters, as monsters, going out together against the world - specifically against even their own friends, Bobby and Jodie. Now there’s a potent metaphor. By contrast, a healthy Sam and Dean relationship allows the loving presence of others.   

And there we have it -  the.. and love (precisely, the loving presence of others) in the love between Sam and Eileen (whose faith in that love, Chuck has deliberately shaken, for now) paralleled to the love between Dean and Cas (whose faith has been restored in Purgatory, for now).

Bobo clearly shows us that hope is the key to defeating Chuck, because it is only when Sam loses hope that Chuck is free of the God-wound. 

And love is hope, because to love is to be hopeful - to be hopeful that you will be loved back, that love will endure, that a future with your loved ones is possible and so, worth fighting for. 

Supernatural has always, always (as we all well know) been about the “power of love” (despite Dean’s doubt in 5x18 Point of No Return). 

In the end both the Triffid of Hope and the Stop-Watch of God-Time will converge, ending God-Time and granting true freedom for Chuck’s “characters”. 

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Pyro and writing (more headcanons that no one asked for, because Pyro the writer is one of my favorite character traits of his that Marvel constantly neglects)

-Overall, his writing is good, but not much more than that.  If he puts in a lot of effort, it can be great, if he’s rushing, it drops down to terrible.  All his books have a few moments of really good writing, showing the potential that he has, and also moments of really dreadful writing.  As long as he gets paid and people are entertained, he’s satisfied, although he does get frustrated when he knows a scene isn’t flowing well, and he doesn’t have the time or skill to fix it.  It’s difficult to make a living as a writer (and frankly, he wants money), so he tends to bang things out quickly and publish as much as possible.  His Marvel bio says that his books were widely read around the English-speaking world, so I’m guessing that he was at least somewhat popular.  Like, he wasn’t at a Stephen King or Danielle Steel level, but people at least knew his name.

-It’s never been clear to me whether his identity as Pyro was publicly known, but I’m thinking it must have been.  If it wasn’t revealed after the Brotherhood went to jail for the first time, surely it would have been revealed after he died saving Kelly, completely out of costume.  I’d imagine it was a mind-fuck for fans who read his books.  Apparently he was still writing and publishing during the Freedom Force era, so either the general public didn’t know, or being a mutant terrorist didn’t lose him any readers.

-He willed the rights for any future royalties to Avalanche when he died.  That didn’t amount to much at the time, but his work became popular again after he died, and publishers re-printed several titles to make a quick buck.  Avalanche wound up with a tidy sum that he used to buy his bar.          

- Pyro has a generally realistic and easy-going attitude about his own writing.  He thinks it’s at least decent writing, but he knows it’s not anything fantastic or ground-breaking.  He’s read the reviews tearing him apart, he knows he’s generally thought of as popcorn, fluff reading (and he’s okay with that), he’ll cheerfully refer to himself as a hack.  But he does get annoyed if someone keeps harping on him as a bad writer, especially if that same person is claiming that writing is easy, like “Any idiot can bang out a romance novel.”  At that point, he turns to, “Oh really?  How many books have you published?  How many books have you even written?  Oh, zero?  You’ve written no books at all?  Then kindly shut the fuck up.”

-He gets similarly annoyed when people disparage the romance genre as being trashy or shallow, especially since there are plenty of popular thriller/mystery/horror/spy novels that Pyro thinks are equally terrible, but those genres don’t have the same bad reputation that romance does.  He argues that romance is just like any other genre - a lot of it is terrible, some of it is complex and beautifully written.  And even if it is terrible, who cares?  Even the terrible stuff serves its purpose.  He usually doesn’t try to defend the genre with his own work (he knows he’s not winning any battles there), but he’s got a few favorite authors that he’ll bring up.  He does read romance on his down time, he genuinely enjoys it.

-There are a few authors he absolutely fan-boys over, but I don’t know enough about romance as a genre to name specific names.  Once, long ago, one of his favorite authors wrote a moderately favorable review of one of his books, and he literally jumped around his living room from sheer joy.  He cut the review out and framed it.

-He always writes straight romance, because that’s the largest market and biggest potential seller.  His heroines are always women, and he writes entirely from their perspective.  He’ll claim that it’s because most of his readers are women, but it also leaves an element of separation between him and the character, which makes it a lot easier to project all his issues into the story.  Which he does do, quite frequently.  Sometimes he tries to write gay male romance, just private stories for himself, but it always feels too personal.  He does start sticking same-sex relationships into his books, though, just in the background.  He couldn’t be too overt without losing some of his readers (at the time that he was writing), but he’d slip in little hints.

-He writes a lot about characters having to hide aspects of their identity, which is his way of dealing with both the mutant thing and the gay thing.  One of his heroines is a white-passing WOC, and her experiences listening to white characters say horribly racist things is very much based on Pyro listening to friends and co-workers say terrible things about mutants.  Of course, it’s rather problematic for him to use race in this way, but he’s definitely got some problematic tropes in his writing.  He doesn’t mean to use it as a metaphor, just an.....emotional outlet.        

-Speaking of problematic, given the time period that Pyro was writing, I think some of his travel articles definitely lean a bit Orientalist.  There’s nothing overtly or consciously racist, he has a great deal of respect and appreciation for the countries and the cultures that he’s visiting.  But he plays up the image of “exotic” and “mysterious” Asia, especially in his earliest articles, because he’s desperate to catch readers’ attention and keep them interested.  If someone brought it up to him now, he’d probably angrily deny it....but he’d also wince re-reading some of his early stuff.  “Yeah, okay, that’s a bit over the top there.”  He gets much better about it later.

-He puts a lot of self-deprecating humor into his travel articles.  He tends to naturally be something of a braggart and exaggerate when he tells stories, but if he writes about himself as a sophisticated world traveler having wild adventures, he’d sound like Gilderoy Lockheart a complete prat.  And Australia’s tendency towards Tall Poppy Syndrome would probably make his work unpopular.  So he puts in a lot of his own stupid mistakes, and presents himself as an adventurer who’s also a bit of a silly ass, bumbling his way through a culture that he doesn’t fully understand.  The events he depicts are mostly true, if exaggerated, but he tends to omit any mysterious occurrences involving fire. Can’t have that, can we?

- He loves the idea of fan fiction.  He was writing fan fiction as a child without knowing the term for it.  And fan fiction of his own work?  He is flattered and delighted.  Of course, he does get rather frustrated when fan fiction depicts his horrible Sebastian-insert as a sympathetic character, but he’ll grit his teeth and put up with it.  Because he’s just so happy that someone liked his work enough to want to write their own version.                   

[shipaholic]

Omens Universe, Chapter 9 Part 1

At last, the present day! Time for bringing up Satan’s baby. :)

Link to next part at the end.

(From the beginning)

(last part)

(chrono)

---

Chapter 9

Tad and Harriet Dowling, new parents, were at breakfast.

Sunlight poured through the French windows. Harriet buttered a slice of toast. The baby was on her lap, grizzling. He was a golden-haired male baby, and he was perfect.

The baby’s tiny fists wobbled. His face turned red. The first hint of a high, plaintive note escaped his body.

Harriet put down her toast. She sighed.

“Tad, could you call for Nanny?”

It was like a siren going off. When the word ‘nanny’ was uttered, the baby wailed like he already understood what it meant and hated it.

Harriet winced. “Actually, I’ll get her. Tad, could you take the baby? Please? Now?”

Tad Dowling, cultural attaché to the United States, grimaced as he took his son off his wife.

“Here you are, little guy. Why the fuss, huh? You’re not scared of Nanny, are you? She’s a lovely woman.”

Yes. Wasn’t she?

His eyes unfocused slightly.

A tall figure swept into the room. The baby hollered like a car alarm.

Tad gingerly carried the little guy over. Nanny wordlessly held out her arms. She looked terribly normal. The baby kicked and turned purple as Tad handed him to her.

“Sorry about him, Ms…”

He broke off, puzzled.

The baby’s roars grew loud enough to shatter glass.

Tad laughed, nervously. “OK, now, off you go. You’ll soon calm down.”

There was a foul smell in the room. Harriet pulled a face.

“I’m sorry, I thought I just changed him.” She sounded uncertain.

Nanny gave a grim smile.

“I think the little man wants a walk.”

Tad nodded with relief. “Great idea. Doesn’t that sound nice, Adam?”

“See you soon, honey,” Harriet said. She had to shout above the yells.

Hastur, Duke of Hell, rearranged the baby in her arms, and carried him into the garden.

~*~

A familiar face snipped the heads off the roses. Ligur nodded to Hastur from beneath the brim of his gardening hat.

Hastur’s lip curled. The air was too fragrant. At least the rest of London was still decently polluted.

She looked around the smooth lawn. No-one else was around, besides some security guards in the distance.

“Where’s he pissed off to?” she growled to Ligur.

“Tree,” Ligur grunted. He assaulted some flowers with the secateurs.

Hastur stumped round the side of the house, baby screeching in her arms.

An apple tree curled into the sky round the back. It was the only plant in the grounds that hadn’t withered under Ligur’s ministrations. It smelled sweet, like cider and cloves. Underlying the fragrance was a hint of good old-fashioned terror. Hastur reluctantly approved.

She stood beneath the tree and knocked on the trunk.

“Job for you, Crawly,” she sneered.

Something wound down the trunk from the canopy. A long, black scaly body with a red underbelly. The baby’s unholy shrieks quietened. The tears splashing down his front dried up.

The snake turned into a white, glowing coil as it reached the bottom. It shifted back into a man with wavy red hair and sunglasses. He checked himself over - clothes, shades, glove - and held out his arms. Hastur deposited the baby and stepped back, simmering with jealousy.

“Hi, Hastur.” Crowley tucked the Antichrist against his chest. “What’s up?”

Hastur glowered. “Things are progressing as planned. Our dark master, may he ever watch under us, would be proud.”

Crowley jiggled the baby up and down. Adam gurgled. Hastur held back an envious tear.

“We have infiltrated the house at every level. There is no sign of the hated opposition. None shall thwart our glorious purpose. Our master’s child grows closer every day to fulfilling his destiny. Praise be to Satan.”

“Praise. Great.”

Hastur squinted into Crowley’s face.

“Get on with it,” she whispered.

Crowley cleared his throat. He paced slowly under the tree, rocking the baby in his arms. Adam’s big blue eyes stared around in curiosity.

“Once upon a time, our Lord and master, the King of Hell, knew that it was time to scorch the planet Earth to a tiny cinder and reduce all the creatures upon it to a thin, red slurry, lying all over the place like pools of, er... soup. And that was all very good and correct. Hurrah. And that’s where you came in -”

Hastur, satisfied, turned and stomped away. She never stayed long for Adam’s stories. She didn’t approve of literacy.

Crowley kept up a litany of blood and gore until Hastur was out of earshot. He and the baby lapsed into companionable silence.

Adam blew a few bubbles. His little baby hoodie was drooping on one side. Among the golden curls, on the left side of his head, something glinted in the sun. It was a gem, shaped like a curved red horn.

Crowley covered it up. He didn’t like looking at it. He felt like it was spying on him. Hell had used more unlikely things than babies as listening devices in Crowley’s time.

Worse still, there was the chance that Lucifer was in there, somewhere. Conscious. Furious at Crowley’s lukewarm attitude to the impending Armageddon.

“Just remember, I rescued you from Nanny Hastureth,” he told the baby. “Think of that when you’re deciding who to grind beneath your heel later.”

Adam grinned.

Crowley grinned back.

Adam hiccupped and threw up on Crowley’s jacket.

Crowley finger-snapped it away. The smell lingered. He hoped that wasn’t an omen.

“You know, the real story of how you got here is pretty fun,” he said.

~*~

Six months earlier

Crowley spotted the nun with the rabbit-in-headlights look about her at the end of the corridor.

“Psst.”

She took in the man with the sunglasses and the picnic basket dangling from his hand, and scurried over.

“Is that him?” Her voice trembled with awe.

“Yup.”

Crowley handed over The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness.

Sister Mary Loquacious poured over the tiny Antichrist and cooed at his teensy little toes, fingers, and horn.

“Pardon?”

Crowley peered into the basket. He hadn’t thought to check. A red curved horn, like one half of a classic devil’s Halloween headdress, sprouted from the left side of the baby’s head.

“Wow.”

“It’s very classic. Though I’d expect him to have a matching one,” Sister Mary said.

Crowley said nothing. He felt like he’d caught his boss asleep sucking his thumb at the office party.

So, Lucifer had really done it. Used his own gem to create. This.

Blimey.

“Does he look like his daddy? I bet he does. Does he look like his daddy-waddy-kins?”

In one way, yes. Crowley deflected. He needed to get going.

“Do you think he’ll remember me when he grows up?” Sister Mary said, wistfully.

“Pray that he doesn’t,” said Crowley, and fled.

~*~

Sister Mary bustled to Room Three. The Antichrist, tucked in his little basket, dozed under her arm. She felt like she was skipping through the woods to deliver a picnic to the lucky Mr and Mrs American Ambassador. Except that instead of a picnic inside, there was an apocalypse.

She wondered if his new parents would love him. She felt sure that they would. From the tips of his hoofie-kins (which he didn’t have), to the top of his precious little horn.

She slowed.

Now that she thought about it, the horn was a bit of a problem.

It was silly, but it had never occurred to her that the Ambassador’s wife had, presumably, just given birth to a baby without a horn growing out of his head, and she was about to hand her back a baby that did have a horn growing out of his head. That part of the plan had sort of... passed her by.

There must be a plan for dealing with this. Naturally. The other sisters must have just forgotten to mention it to her. Which was strange, since all they were supposed to do was mention things to each other all day long. Probably an oversight.

Still. Mrs. Dowling might, just conceivably, have the odd question.

It would be fine. She’d make something up.

She tried to think of a lie she’d be comfortable giving to a room full of security men with guns.

As a bead of nervous sweat appeared on her brow, Mary found herself before Room Three.

She swallowed. She raised her hand. It trembled mid-knock.

Maybe…

On second thought, there was no shame in finding someone a little higher up the chain, just to make sure. It didn’t mean she’d failed to handle things at all.

She hurried away from the room.

~*~

Mary stood, red-faced, in a corner of Room Four, hidden behind two other nuns.

Upon some extremely pointed instructions, she was silent while Mother Superior suggested names for the baby. This was in defiance of her vows, but going by the looks on everyone’s faces, she’d better obey and not risk messing things up.

The thought of what could have happened had she given the Prince of Lies to the wrong parents made her feel faint.

Still, she caught the mistake in time. That was the important thing. And Mother Superior had a very convincing story about the horn, which Mrs. Dowling accepted without question, possibly owing to the euphoria of birth, and also the painkillers. She was explaining the complex medical reason for it, in a serious voice, to her husband, on the laptop held by one of the secret service agents.

Mary was a little lost in her own world, and still on edge, and she really didn’t mean to forget herself. But a lifetime of mindless chattering, some of it mandated, was a tricky habit to break. The words spilled out before she was even aware of them.

“Of course, there’s always Adam.”

Someone next to her trod on her foot. She squeaked.

Mother Superior shot her a frozen, angry stare. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Mrs. Dowling stared into her son’s eyes.

“Adam?” Her brows lifted. “Huh.”

~*~

2013

Adam Dowling’s bedroom had a real racing car in it. It had a real remote controlled tank, a real pirate ship, and a real plane suspended from the ceiling. They were all sized for him.

He was five. His eyelids fluttered as he sat up in bed, listening to his bedtime story. A huge black snake, the size of a python, loomed over his innocent little face.

“And then little Adam went home with his new peons, mum and dad. They took him to live in a big house they’d bought just for him, and filled it with all the things he liked, like toys, and sweets, and television, and egg-and-soldiers for breakfast every day. And he grew up big and strong and destroyed them all. Which was good. The end.”

Adam yawned.

“Cwawly, can I hear the other story?”

“Sssure,” Crowley hissed. “Which one?”

This wasn’t such a bad role. Delighting a macabre junior-schooler was squarely in Crowley’s wheelhouse. The downside was that his official title was Crawly the Magic Talking Snake. Including on his paperwork at head office. Which was a bit annoying. Definitely Dagon’s work.

“The one about the angel in the garden.”

Crowley hesitated. “Yeah, all right.”

He happened to be in the mood for it this evening. He coiled up on Adam’s pillow. It was soft as a dream. He’d have to be careful not to fall asleep himself.

“An angel and a demon met in a garden. They were supposed to be enemies, and thwart each other's plans, and score big victories for Heaven and Hell. But that was a lot of work. So instead, they became best friends. And then, purely by accident, they discovered they had a secret power. When they needed to, they could turn into one person, with the best parts of both of them. A superhero - but cool. Not a goody-goody from the comics.

“Whenever they turned into him, the angel didn’t have to feel bad about doing the wrong thing from time to time. And the demon could experience a little of the grace that he thought was lost to him forever. They loved being him, because they loved being together. Because they loved each other. But the angel never realised it, because he was good, and good people are stupid even when they’re really, really clever. So the demon knew he had to keep his love a secret, because if the angel knew about it, he’d get into a panic and everything would be ruined.

“But one day, the angel realised he loved the demon, and he didn’t panic, and everything was wonderful. But it still ended up ruined, because of ineffability. That’s the worst word in the English language. Never say it or I will wash out your mouth with soap. And so the angel left Earth forever to hang out with the other angels, who were rubbish and boring, rather than the cool demon who was better than them in every way. So, the lesson is…?”

Adam nodded along, glassy-eyed. “Good people are rubbish?”

Crowley hissed. “Believe it. Stick with what you know.”

Adam made a non-committal noise. He often sounded like he was weighing his options at the end of these. Crowley wondered how much he was taking in.

“And in the End of Days, the forces of Hell will cwawl over the earth and drag the hosts of Heaven down into the pit. Hurrah,” Adam said, contentedly.

“Hurrah,” said Crowley, checking over his shoulder in case one of his bosses was there. They weren’t.

It was a lonely job, honestly, playing imaginary friend to the Antichrist. To keep up the pretence that he was a made-up magic talking snake, he had to take care only to appear when no other people were around. This wasn’t too difficult, as he seemed to be Adam’s only friend. He wondered if he’d have had lots of friends, in different circumstances. He was an intense kid. There was an odd, magnetic draw to him. Probably got it from his dad.

Unfortunately, his upbringing had largely involved demons whispering in his ear that he was destined to bring about the End of Days. The other parents tended not to bring their children round after the first time little Adam joyfully took a playmate to the koi pond and enacted the Rise of the Kraken from the Thunderous Deeps. And replacing the koi was blessed expensive, judging by the sharp tone Adam’s human mum took with the idiot ambassador they’d lumbered the poor kid with.

The rest of the team all thought it was for the best, of course. Wouldn’t do for the Harbinger of the End Times to get attached to the world and any peoples he was about to destroy. Adam had never had so much as a pet, in case he discovered a fondness for animals. Hastur, still slogging away as the Dowling’s live-in nanny, once tried to interest the boy in a tank full of pet tarantulas. Adam had recoiled in horror, although that might just have been from Hastur. It gave Crowley a warm, spiteful glow that Adam never warmed up to her.

Adam’s eyelids were drooping. Time for Crowley to go. He uncoiled and slithered onto the floor. He reared up to whisper a goodbye over Adam’s curly head.

“What are you?” he murmured.

“The Great Beast, Destwoyer of Worlds.”

“And what are your powers?”

“Money.”

Eh, fine. That’d do. Crowley slunk from the room.

Outside the bedroom door, he shifted back to human-shaped. His right arm twinged. It always played up when he switched forms. He looked at it and winced. It was worse tonight.

He morphed the glove over it before anyone could round the corner. Incognito, that was his middle name. [1]

He slipped down the hall, encountering no-one. Demons had replaced most of the staff. They had little interest in him. This was Hastur and Ligur’s operation. Crowley was small fry. Fine. It wasn’t like he wanted any of this.

Six years to go.

He slowed as he passed a ground-floor window. The mathematically trimmed lawn rolled out like a table mat. Beneath the window was a bed of rose bushes with all the heads cut off.

Crowley pushed the window open and leaned his head out. A sulphuric stink rose from the flower bed. Overlaying it was the faint scent of roses. They were fighting a losing battle. Crowley reached down and snipped off a stem.

He brought the headless stem inside. He looked around furtively and blinked. A pink bloom pushed its petals from the top of the stalk.

Crowley lowered his head and inhaled the scent of the rose in his hand.

He sighed and snapped his fingers.

The flower burst into flames. It fell into a pile of ash. Crowley trod it into the carpet as he strode away.

---

[1] He’d tried to make it his middle initial, because it sounded cool and James Bond-ish, but he’d been a bit drunk and smudged it. Then he decided he liked ‘J’ better, anyway.

---

Musical interlude! Go here for Crowley’s version of It’s Over, Isn’t It? - Steven Universe

---

(Link to next part)

[nad-zeta]

Match up! (◠‿◠✿)

hiya!! can i pls get a matchup for ikesen, if its ok? 💞

bi girl i prefer guys! ambiverted intp, gryffindor, n true neutral. i have an older twin sis n i love/hate her sm lmao!!

i have medium-length straight-ish black hair (w/ a side bang to the right) & dark brown eyes!! im 5'5-ish, fun fact: im a filipina!

sooo im a complex daydreamer!! i NEED attention/affirmation or ill feel unwanted/sad. emotional scorpio, im quite sensitive. anxiety, i overthink too much! quiet w/ people im not close w/. easily annoyed but guilty after ‘cause im soft-hearted. im like half funny/playful/kind & half deep/mature/awkward- hopeless romantic! i have a way w/ words, sorta poetic? i wanna be the best! sorta socially anxious, i have a fear of judgement. im not innocent but ppl think i am at first. i look fine but deep down im a big mess. rlly smart & knowledgable. vv passionate, big nerd actually! im like a kid w/ my twin but w/ others im more mature. im the type to do fun stuff and loosen up but would also just cuddle and have long convos. im vv good w/ technology! very imaginative, i come up with stories a lot- around others im very quiet because i literally have no idea what to say. actually a big history fanatic, hehe. i act confident but im not rlly, actually vv insecure and i regret a lot of things.

a habit of mine is that i tend to drift away and just… think? i also tend to care a lot abt my appearance! i get competative but there are also times when im just chill. i get vv embarrassed when i lose control tho n i regret it sm :(( i have loads of trouble asking for help even if i like to help others a lot! i like being organised but i tend to be… chaotic.

hsjsh- fun fact: there are times where im just,, super hyper n say the weirdest things? im good in school but,, im lazy yknow- i love math (surprisingly, i got a natural talent?), science (esp abt stars n space), history, and english (actually my 2nd languange but im very fluent) the most. bilingual but im also learnin french! wanna learn latin too tho but id break down- i have the fear of the unknown, failure, n loneliness! im scared of the future cause its beyond human ability to know,, the only guys ive rlly talked to r family members so my awkwardness goes 100x hsjsjs

oh, i rlly love affection, but i need a lot of space too, tho! girls gotta have privacy- games r a hUge part of my life, so is technology and the modern era! i actually like sports too- not very good at em tho :((

some likes: gaming, jokes (esp corny/stupid/puns), space, stars, weapons (esp swords/guns), philosophy, psychology, testing myself, affection, animals, doing exhilirating things, music, movies, books, writing, astrology, astronomy, learning new things, & mythology.

some dislikes: too much heat, school presentations, creepy dolls, being under pressure, dirty things, blind faith, & annoying people.

tysm! omg i hope this isnt too long- i think this is too long?? yIkes i hope that this is ok!! love ur writing btw! stay safe 💞

Hi hi love! thank you so much for the request! You sound like a wonderful person and omw it soooo cool that you have a twin! I actually think she sent in a request right after you did lol! Anyways sorry for making you wait sooooo long and i hope you enjoy it! @x-joie-x

 So i match you with...................... Mitsuhide

The first time you meet this sneki boy, you were quiet and reserved. War council had just ended and you were named as a princess of the Oda forces. You were super socially awkward, and anxiety was slowly starting to creep in, as the curious warlords started to surround you. It wasn’t until Mitsuhide had pulled you away in a teasing manner to save you from the crowd that you finally started to calm down. He had noticed this new little mouse had been on edge since arriving. However, he didn’t suspect you of being an assassin or spy as, during the whole council, your hands shook, and you could barely speak up against Nobunaga’s demanding and commanding tones. 

Mitsuhide had found you incredibly amusing from the first moment you walked in, you caught this foxes eye. He didn’t know if it was the innocence or naïve purity that just seemed to radiate from you, but for some reason when he was looking at you, he found that he simply couldn’t look away.

It took all of one day for all the warlords to officially drop all suspicions of you. You were just such a sweetheart how could they not instantly love you and feel the need to protect you. You had started helping a few of the maids that first morning after you were named princess. You didn’t want to be a freeloader, so you worked hard to earn your keep and soon, the maids were fighting over who would get to work with you cause all of then just loved and adored you so much. 

You got annoyed with Hideyoshi when he first found you helping the maids, as he was 100% started micromanaging you. You lost you cool and raised your voice at him, TBH Hideyoshi didn’t think anything of it, but it wasn’t until you had pitched up at his manor an hour later to apologize for being so rude to him that he realized what a sweet and sensitive person you truly were. Of course from that moment onward you had gained yourself a big doting brother.

All the Oda forces agreed that you were too sweet and naïve for your own good, so Mitsuhude was assigned to give you princess lesson to prepare you for your new life as Oda princess. You were super excited when Mitsuhide had told you that he was going to teach you a variety topics such as economics, politics, history and self-defence. You even managed to impress the sneki boy, by getting all the questions correct on the first test he had handed you. You had found that first test incredibly easy as you were a bit of a history buff, and all the questions had been based on Nobunaga’s history. This low key shook the sliver kitsune a little bit, as this proved that not only were you pure and naive but you were also super smart. You kind of reminded him a little bit of Mitsunari, a cleaver professor with their head in the clouds. 

Mitushide praised you for your ability to pick up on concepts quickly and work diligently as a student, “I dare say little one, you are the best student a teacher could ask for.” You spend masses amount of time with sneki boi, and through that time you realized just how sweet Mitsuhide truly was, although he was a massive tease leaving you a blushy mess almost every day after lessons with his teasing comments. And naturally, the more time Mitsuhide had spent with you, the more in love he fell. It was also noted by the fellow warlords that, Mitsuhide always wore a soft gentle expression when it came to you, and in your experience he had been a kind gentle patient teacher. SO naturally you found yourself more and more drawn to this mysterious man.

Through all the time spent with the kitsune, you found yourself opening up more and more. He was one of the few people that got to see your playful side. You now would make the puniest, corniest jokes he has ever heard, leaving this kitsune in a fit of laughter mid-way through a lecture. Not only that, but he loved loved loved your competitiveness side. 

This side of you slowly started to surface after the 3rd or 4th self-defence lesson when you started challenging the kitsune to rematches whenever he would pin you down, ultimately beating you in your little makeshift sword fight. Boy oh boy, don’t even get me started on the shooting lessons, once you were able to fire the rifle, you were straight-up challenging this boy, the best marksmen around to a shoot-off. “Come on Mitsuhide, the first one to get 100 bulls-eyes in a row wins, and the loser has to buy tea.” Needless to say, you always lost and even though every day you would make that exact bet, Mitsuhide would always insist on sticking you for tea and lunch as reward for being such a good student. 

He really enjoyed spending time with you and would absolutely insist on holding your hands whenever the two of you were on your way to the tea house together after your lessons. “I can’t have my clumsy little mouse tripping and falling now can I.” Every day without fail, he would say that to you as he wraps his big hand around your small one, while leading you to your favourite tea house.

The two of you would talk about everything and anything over tea, these topics ranged from you making stupid jokes, to talking about random topics such as philosophy and psychology. Either way, Mitsuhide loved to spend time with you. He would always listen to and hang on to every word you said, storing every word in his memory. 

You were his precious little mouse, and he knew you were an extremely sensitive creature. If anyone dared say a single bad word to you or make you sad, they would face the wrath of this very protective kitsune. Like one time, one of the visiting daimyos had talked down to you for accidentally bumped into him. You were busy cleaning the windows when you accidentally lost your balance and bumped into him. He was so disgusted that a mere maid had touched him. He started yelling at you and insulting you, this escalated to such a point that he even had his hand raised ready to hit you for getting dirty window water on his shoes. That’s when sneki boi decided to intervene. Mitsuhide legit stood protectively in front of you with his rifle pointed at the man’s heart, with the full intention to shoot. “Golly me it appears like you are quite the troublesome little mouse, my dear.” He then turned his sharp gaze towards the daimyo “I do suggest you apologize to the Oda princess, lest you want to answer for your crimes directly to Nobunaga.” The man simply scoffed and walked away. Mitsuhide then turned to you and enveloped you in a warm hug while kissing the top of your head, “Are you alright, my dear little mouse?” Mitsuhide looked into your beautiful eyes and gently took your hands in his, “Come little one, I have something I wish to show you.”

The two of you walked hand in hand to Mitsuhide’s manor, Mitsuhide led you out into his garden, where you saw something so beautiful you could cry. The garden was filled with flowers and candles and in the centre was a table set up, with a feast laid out op top of it. 

Mitsihide had told you that night that he was hopelessly in love with you. He was overjoyed when he had discovered that you like him, was also a hopeless romantic and that you had an incredibly poetic, romantic way with words. You handed him a letter in which you had expressed your feelings for him in the form of a beautifully written poem. You were actually intending to leave the poem on his desk as a way of confessing your feelings. This instantly melted sneki bois heart into a giant puddle and he couldn’t help but pull you in for a sweet kiss. 

After diner Mitsuhide had led you deeper into the garden where a fluffy blankie was sprawled out on the grass, he guided you to sit down and the motioned for you to lookup. Above you, a thousand stares were shooting across the sky in a big meteor shower. Mitsuhide pulled you into his arms and kissed your cheeks as the two of you watched the sky. He always remembered every detail you had told him about yourself, so when you revealed that you loved the sky and the stars, he knew he had to incorporate this rare meteor shower in your date somehow. 

This had sparked a new tradition between the two of you, to stargaze and spend the whole night in deep conversation. These nights were full of love and affection as Mitsuhide would pull you into his lap and just hold you there for hours and hours as the two of you talked and watched the sky

Of course sneki boi also had a bit of a spontaneous side, and would take you on exhilarating trips around Nobunaga’s territories. They were mostly missions but after you had nagged Nobunaga to give you permission to go along on the missions, you and Mitsuhide would finish the official work asap so that the two of you cuties had plenty of time to enjoy yourself in the new environment.

Mitsuhide loves everything about you from your slight messiness, to your love of learning new things. He also knows that his sweet little mouse sometimes needs some space and alone time and will be sure to give you as much alone time as you need to recharge. He knows that you will seek him out when you have had enough of your own company. He will always welcome you back with outstretched arms when you have had enough alone time, and shower you with endless amounts of affection.

Whenever you are feeling insecure or worrying about the future Mitsuhide is right there by your side, whispering words of affection and reassurance in your ears. He makes sure to remind you every day just how perfect you are and just how much he loves you. 

Often you can be found in sneki boys lap with your head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck as he soothingly strokes your hair. Don’t be surprised if this sneaky kitsune drops a few kissed on your nose, cheeks or lips during these quiet and peaceful moments, just as a way to convey how much he loves and adores you.

Other potential matches……………..Masamune 

I hope you enjoyed it dear and i hope you have the best day! 

[blackjack-15]

A Surprisingly Thoughtful Spin — Thoughts on: The Haunted Carousel (CAR)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.  

This game also has an additional section between “The Mystery” and “The Suspects” entitled “The Theme”, where I’ll talk about the philosophy within this game, and how it stands out and solidifies its place as a truly “Expanded” game due to that thoughtfulness.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas.

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: CAR, brief mentions of CLK, CRY, HAU, and ASH, brief but slightly spoiler-y mention of the opening act of SPY.

The Intro:

The Haunted Carousel is, without preamble, a fantastic game.

    I know I normally start these with a brief analysis of what stands out about the game or what it’s done for the series as a whole — and I will do that, never fear — but I think it’s important to establish first and foremost that, while it’s not an Overtly Beloved game, it very much should be, and it doesn’t get enough near enough credit. Especially since, in my opinion, the many great modern games’ tight plots and varied protagonists have their roots in this excellent game.

With a logical and ever-progressing plot, characters who feel like actual people, beautiful visuals, and historical backstories that round out the present day plots (plots!! In the plural!! Huzzah!!), Haunted Carousel may not be a wild ride, but it is a consistent, fun, and surprisingly thoughtful one.

CAR is perhaps the odd one out of its fellow Expanded games (SSH through SHA) in that its location isn’t really anything immersive. You don’t spend your time outdoors in thick atmosphere nor surrounded by trinkets of the Maya nor stuck on an old ranch, but between a bright hotel room and a shut-down (but not rundown) amusement park during the day. Its historical background isn’t linked to a specific area, there isn’t a “standout” scene featured in every gifset or trailer, and the wackiest the game really gets is expecting the player to enjoy Barnacle Blast.

In most ways, in other words, CAR is an exceptionally quiet game in the middle of quite a few loud ones, which might account for it not getting as much credit as it deserves. There are flashier games, there are longer games (CAR is quite short), and there are games with better and more memorable cutscenes…but there’s not many games in the series (and none of out the expanded games as well-told and sincere as CAR.

Not only is CAR a lot of fun to play, but it also takes care to mean something – to tell an actual story rather than a bare-bones whodunnit. The characters all have their reasons for being there and being involved, and they all have something to say as well — some directly contrasting each other. CAR doesn’t feel really like a computer game where everything is laid for the Convenience of the Plot and the suspects are only there to robotically deliver plot points and incriminate themselves. Rather, it feels like a whole story with real people where a crime happens to occur, but not everything revolves around that central plot point.

It’s also remarkable in the presence of a protagonist, which isn’t really something that Nancy Drew games have done yet. Nancy herself doesn’t count because at this point, Nancy doesn’t gain or lose anything from the mystery; she’s not the one with a problem, nor does she discover anything about herself. The Nik-era games are notable for their strong protagonists (or, often, dual protagonists with Nancy acting as one out of the two), but CAR really is the first one to take a character and have Nancy be a part of their story, rather than having Nancy act as a magnet to four pieces of metal and a mystery.

Mechanically, CAR is much the same as games that have come before it, as we won’t see another big upset until SHA, with the addition of Nancy’s cell phone (oh blessed day) and, most importantly, a task list. Fans had been asking for a task list since MHM (which sorely needed one so that you could at least identify which hanzi you had already seen) and CAR delivers that long-needed mechanical update.

The historical backstory is more recent than in most games, happening not in Antiquity or even during the 1700s but instead in the modern(ish) day, featuring the man behind the titular Carousel’s horses, Rolfe Kessler. The backstory doesn’t feel like an appendage like in DOG, but really establishes why the Carousel is so important and helps serve the theme of the game (more on that later).

The last thing that’s really important to note in CAR is its villain. By now, HER is reasonably okay at camouflaging its villain for at least the first third of the game, and here does a good job keeping the player in the dark for the first bit. CAR is also HER’s first successful attempt at the friendly villain archetype. Elliott Chen is pleasant, accommodating, friendly, funny, and incredibly likable. He just also happens to be a forger stretched thinner than he’s comfortable with.

Ultimately, The Haunted Carousel is a great game with a huge thematic presence, likable characters, and an honest character arc. Not only should it be a must-play for any new fan, it should be on the top of any older fan’s re-play list, both for its intrinsic value and for its obvious influence on the plots and protagonists of the modern Nancy Drew games.

The Title:

As far as titles go, The Haunted Carousel is a meh one – admittedly, it’s probably the weakest part of the entire game. It does tell us what our focal point will be — the Carousel — and the mystery surrounding the focal point – that it’s haunted — but, like DOG, it doesn’t really go much past that.

After completing the game, the title does mean a little more — the events of the game are a carousel of hauntings in that they seem to be cyclical and mysterious, but are really a farce — a simple fair ride with pretty decorations but simple parts. The carousel itself also points towards the villain, who’s the only artist out of the cast, and seems to allude to Joy’s cycle of sadness — she’s haunted as well.

It’s not a brilliant title, all things considered, but because the game is so good, it’s only a minor blip on the radar rather than something symptomatic of the game’s value.

The Mystery:

Paula Santos, a friend of Carson Drew’s, hears about Nancy’s penchant for solving mysteries and decides to call her in to investigate some thefts and sabotage that Captain’s Cove, an amusement park in New Jersey, has been encountering.

Nancy learns that first, the lead horse on the carousel was stolen, followed by the roller coaster losing power and causing a serious crash. The last straw for Paula was the merry-go-round turning on in the middle of the night, and Captain’s Cove has been shut down until someone — perhaps a badly-attired ginger fresh out of high school — can figure out what’s causing these problems.

It’s Nancy’s job to explore the shut-down amusement park, talk to the leftover staff, help reconstruct a carousel horse, and use such Astoundingly Modern Technologies as a cell phone and a laptop in order to crack the case behind The Haunted Carousel.

As a mystery, CAR is a pretty good one; it’s the age-old Nancy Drew Sabotage set up, but with the twist of happening at an amusement park. There are plenty of clues and even more red herrings, and the attempt to keep you guessing until the 3/4ths mark is a solid attempt.

I don’t know if this mystery feels more fun because it’s at a place like an amusement park or if really is that fun, but the overall effect is the same, and CAR is a delight to solve. The backstory and present story fit together like jigsaw pieces, and the suspects are both interesting and a ton of fun to question.

Is CAR an overly difficult or surprising mystery? Not to the modern mind, I would say, especially given the mystery fans’ inclination to suspect the friendliest suspect (a hole-in-one suspicion here). But it is incredibly fun to see how everything is put together, and it’s a water-tight mystery, if not air-tight.

It’s okay that the mystery isn’t the absolute greatest, however, because it isn’t the most profound part of the game.

The Theme:

Prior to CAR, Nancy Drew games didn’t really bother with the concept of theme. It was new and novel and difficult enough to design detective computer games that ran efficiently with decent graphics and to put them out twice a year that HER focused, quite rightly, on that rather than on trying more complex ideas.

With the formula and the game engine firmly established, however, and a small but fervent fanbase ready to devour the latest game — and being in charge of their own distribution — HER was ready to expand their games in a way separate from technology or location: it was ready for a strong theme.

As a character, Nancy deals with some pretty heavy stuff during the course of her mysteries. In the early games, we don’t really see it affecting her that much, which is a product of simple writing and, in my opinion, the child-like resilience of an 18 year old. While she has her occasional line like “to think I almost made friends with a jewel thief!” in TRT, these cases tend to engage Nancy on an intellectual level rather than an emotional one.

CAR shifts that narrative slightly and allows Nancy to bond with a suspect — Joy Trent — over their shared loss of a mother. Joy has also lost her father recently and is stuck in mourning over both her father and her childhood. Her father, having realized how both repressed and depressed Joy is, decided to build her a robot to help her get in touch with her childhood again. In other words, the jumping off point of the story is a father who wanted good things, happiness, and safety for his daughter, and tried to go about it in a way that he thought would be best.

If you’re hearing echoes of SPY here, you’re correct. The difference here being that Joy’s repression of tragedy leads her into a pit of inaction while stewing over that tragedy, while Nancy’s repression (which I’ll talk about more in my TMB meta) pushes her to action while ignoring the driving force of that tragedy.

CAR is also, I believe, the first time that Nancy mentions the death of her mother to a suspect, and it’s a really humanizing moment for her. As much as Nancy can be driven, tactless, and goal-oriented, she’s not a robot, and she does have personal as well as professional reasons behind the things she does and the characters she tends to bond with.

The first big thematic point in CAR is the importance of connection. It juxtaposes morose, prickly Joy (who doesn’t want a friend but gets one anyway) against our villain, who is friendly and smiling and charming but is by no means someone Nancy should make friends with. It also asks a question to tie into this theme: are those who are mean bad, and are those who are bad always mean? It’s almost a Shakespearean theme (“one may smile, and smile, and be a villain”) and it’s well-placed here.

The second theme comes up in the backstory about Rolfe Kessler, a genius who struggled all his life with mental illness, eventually ending with him never getting the credit he deserved and without the companionship of the woman he loved, Amelia.

It’s a tragic story in a way that HER hasn’t really done tragic stories yet — MHM has a basically happy ending, in TRT by the end the implication is that Marie is finally going to get the credit and un-blackening of her name that she deserves, FIN’s is a whole mess so we’re not even gonna try to dissect that, and in SSH the Whisperer is vindicated. 

There’s no descendant of Rolfe in this game; no historian ready to exculpate him, no family members or friends to remember him fondly to Nancy over the phone. Rolfe is in the game, as in his life, alone. It’s a tragedy, and the way that Nancy and the player discover his genius and his story is quiet, as befitting the man.

Through Rolfe’s story we address the twin themes of remembrance — that how you’re remembered will generally be the way you lived (think DED’s dénouement for further insight) in the time that you lived — and of the role of trauma and struggle in life. Rolfe’s struggle against his illness didn’t make him a genius, but it did stand in his way of achieving all that he could.

And that’s where we tie into Joy and the main theme of the game. Once again, we see a person being limited by their mental illness and their struggle against it, and a world that doesn’t really take that struggle into effect. Instead of Joy being alone in this struggle, however, she has help — not just the small help from Nancy, but the help and support of her father through Miles the Magnificent Memory Machine.

Miles was created by Darryl Trent to help Joy unlock her childhood memories and move past her trauma in a healthy way – and only if she was actually dedicated to the task. The riddles, while not hugely difficult, are enough to dissuade Joy from ever really trying to get past them, as she’s not ready to open that lid just yet. As anyone who’s experienced mental illness (or had a close loved one experience it) knows, there’s no way for you to improve and grow if you’re not ready to receive the help you need.

Opening up just a little bit to Nancy and having someone who doesn’t have to care about her problems actually care is enough to springboard Joy to take the first step and try to tackle the riddles again with a little help. Over the course of the game, Joy gets more and more ready and less resentful towards her past and finds the strength to confront herself and her illness.

While the trauma of losing her mother in the way that she lost her (not to mention the added weight of her family’s financial situation) didn’t make Joy strong, the choice to struggle through and come out the better on the other side does make her end the game stronger than when she started and with more — pardon the pun — joy in her life. That progression is what makes her the protagonist, but is also sets her up to have the theme hand-delivered to her.

Miles states that it was Darryl’s belief that life is simply made up of memories. This is why it’s such a big deal that Joy’s memories of her mother are repressed, because her brain is actively erasing her life. As Joy moves through those memories with Nancy and Miles’ help, she gains back her life and is shown that, while struggle is a part of life, it doesn’t define life — and that a good life isn’t necessarily a life made up of only good things.

The presence of these themes (and of the final theme in particular) is what makes CAR such a strong game. Though the characters are delightful, the aesthetic is fabulous, the Hardy Boys are here, and the history and puzzles are fun, it’s CAR’s strong thematic elements interwoven with its plot that really makes it something special.

So let’s get on with those characters, shall we?

The Suspects:

Joy Trent is the current bookkeeper of Captain’s Cove and basically the man in charge apart from Paula. Her father Darryl used to work at/own half of Captain’s Cove, but died poor (specifically of a heart attack in bankruptcy court, poor man) after having to sell his part of the park to Paula. Thus, Joy holds a grudge against Paula even as she does good work for the park.

She’s also suffering a bit of childhood amnesia due to the trauma of her mother dying when she was young — the first of the women featured in this game series to share that backstory with Nancy. This forms a lot of the story’s B plot (with the historical backstory of the game being relegated to the C-plot) as Nancy and a funny little computer help her to move past this emotional block, confront her past, and progress to a better future.

As a suspect, Joy isn’t a bad pick at all, in part because she is responsible for a portion of the sabotage — the shut-down of the roller coaster while it was in operation – over bitterness for her father’s ignominious end. This little instance is helpful for diverting attention away from the true saboteur — though she doesn’t mean to — and it helps round out Joy as more than just the sad daddy’s girl (and resident protagonist) that she would be otherwise.

Well, other than her magical talking robot companion.

Miles the Magnificent Memory Machine isn’t really a culprit, but he definitely needs to be noted here, as he’s the best help that Nancy has outside of the Hardy Boys. Miles knows everything about Joy, yet he can’t move the story forward without Nancy completing a little task after task that unlocks the next portion of his (rather, by proxy, Joy’s father’s) quest to help Joy become a well-rounded, non-traumatized person who can face her past.

I’ve said enough about Miles’ part in the Theme section above, so I’ll move on without too much in this area.

Harlan Bishop is the security guard of Captain’s Cove and an ex-forger in a past life. He’s also voiced by Jonah Von Spreecken, best known for his long-running stint as Frank Hardy and for his writing of Francy fanfiction, God bless the man.

Harlan went to jail for forging checks and had a hard time getting a job once he was free, but Paula offered him a job as a security guard at Captain’s Cove and he’s been loyal since, even taking a pay cut in order to keep his job as the park was shut down. He’s also hilarious, giving such immortal quotes as “the whale is getting impatient” when trying to summon Nancy to the security office.

As a suspect, Harlan is interesting. He shares the key identity of the villain — a forger — as a red herring and as a way to complicate the mystery, and he does do something wrong in that he spies on Ingrid to get the passcode to her office. Sure, he does it for a good and innocent reason — he wants to be the best security guard he can possibly be, and that means learning everything about the park — but it’s still wrong to do, and Nancy (in a rather supercilious way) doesn’t hesitate to call him on it (and, once again rather arrogantly, for his past. Nancy’s done way worse than forgery in her hobby as a detective, after all).

Ultimately, Harlan is too good a guy to actually cause the problems and thefts at Captain’s Cove, and stays on with Paula even after getting other job offers once he helps Nancy recover the stolen lead horse for the carousel. He serves as Nancy’s “buddy” character after the mess with Nancy reporting him finishes its business.

Elliot Chen is the art director — and perpetually behind art director — of Captain’s Cove and our friendly neighborhood villain for the game. Elliott is the first to greet Nancy with a smile and a joke, and is friendly in a way that instantly suckers the player in.

HER has been trying since TRT’s Lisa to create a villain that’s actually a sort of friend to Nancy – or at least passes off as someone becoming her friend throughout the course of the game, and they nail it with Elliott. He even mentions Poppy Dada as a sort of inside joke with the player that makes one easily warm up to him.

As a suspect, Elliott is perfect. He’s sly enough to take advantage of what others do and fold it into his plan (the roller coaster) and to use people’s superstitions to his advantage both for privacy for his schemes and for driving the price of the carousel horses up.

He’s got just enough clues pointing towards everyone else — taking the eccentricities of his coworkers not only in stride but in good humor and flexibility towards his plans — and a pretty water-tight excuse for falling behind (procrastination — everyone knows artists and other creative types are the Worst Procrastinators) to help him pull off the vast majority of his plan without anyone being the wiser.

In short, Elliott is exactly the kind of character that this game needed, and his presence is a joy — even if (or perhaps especially because) he’s the villain.

Ingrid Corey is the chief engineer of Captain’s Cove, a graduate of OSU, and resident hippy-dippy “nutritionist” who can diagnose a B3 deficiency just by looking at Nancy. She’s a little crazy to talk to, but seems like at first she could just be using that to throw our resident teen detective off the trail.

As a suspect, Ingrid checks all the boxes once again, and not just because she, like everyone else, does something wrong. Ingrid, genius engineer that she is, decides to let a friend borrow the roller coaster’s blueprints to study them for a hefty fee, garnering her enough money for a 20K$ watch and enough left over to look for a new car.

Nancy also suspects her of insurance fraud with a man who got injured on the roller coaster when Joy sabotaged it, but it turns out in a show of startling naiveté, Ingrid just wanted to recommend a neck cream to the unfortunate man rather than help him profit off of his injury.

She doesn’t really become Nancy’s buddy, but she is remarkable in that she sort of disappears for most of the game. At the beginning, it makes her look a bit suspicious, but towards the end it just becomes clear that the game is less focused in Ingrid, who doesn’t really support the theme or move the plot along, and more worried about establishing its meaning and helping Nancy solve the case in time.

The Favorite:

While it should be obvious that my favorite part of this game is its theme and the associated thematic elements, I’ll try to branch out here a bit….though not so far out as to ignore the Hardy Boys, who are once again wonderful in this game. Honestly, most games with the Hardy Boys present are better than most games without the Hardy Boys. (Though of course, there are a few exceptions (notably ASH and SPY).)

CAR has one of my favorite casts (and favorite villains) of the entire series, so they’ll be here as well. It’s such a nice change of pace from games like FIN and DOG where the casts are lackluster to go to games like CAR that are so strong in making you care about the characters.

My single favorite thing about CAR, however, is the presence of a protagonist in Joy Trent. The first games (and quite a few of the middle games, it should be noted) treat Nancy as the main character and lack a protagonist completely, ignoring the fact that Nancy really can’t be a main character in the half-ghost (personality-wise) state she’s in, especially given that most of her dialogue is “ask a question, get an answer” rather than showing any real personality or particular motive beyond solving the case. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why that was the case given the limitations of the early 2000s and of HER in particular, but it does remove any possibility of Nancy being able to be the protagonist.

That’s why Joy’s presence is such a delight, honestly. She’s the character with the problem to solve — her past traumas — and the game carries Nancy through helping her in a way that Nancy’s never really helped anyone before. Sure, Nancy solves the mystery, but what she really does is offer peace to Joy, who can now grow up a little further and move on. CAR gives Nancy a purpose that will be improved and expanded upon in games like CLK, CRY, HAU, and GTH.

My favorite puzzle is the entire puzzle track with the carousel (including the conversation with Tink, who is a wonderful phone friend). There’s something super cool about going inside a carousel and finding out how the magic works, and there’s so much to explore in it that it’s really a magical place, even though it’s not actually anything supernatural.

My favorite moment in the game (other than the final ‘battle’) is the conversation with the Hardy Boys after Nancy nearly gets run over due to her own clumsiness. A classic.

The Un-Favorite:

Because of the care taken with CAR, there won’t be a lot in this section.

My least favorite puzzle is probably the mini-plot revolving around fixing Barnacle Blast — and then playing Barnacle Blast. While it’s not a horrible game in and of itself, it just doesn’t really fit the overall aesthetic of the puzzles of Captain’s Cove, and for me it sticks out quite a bit as a “oh we need a puzzle here what can we think of that the kids like” and came up with an arcade game in a vintage-style amusement park. It’s a bit off.

The stenography isn’t a great one as well, but I give it props for fitting the atmosphere and theme, so it’s not my least favorite.

My least favorite moment in the game…is probably where Nancy knocks over Elliott’s paint, as it seems to be a Big Moment but — Nancy doesn’t actually ruin anything, and it makes Elliott look a little silly.

I know that most of the games (especially as early as CAR) didn’t want to have Nancy do anything wrong in the non-second-chance story of the game, but actually having Elliot forgive her for messing up something important would have been a big step in establishing his character and throwing suspicion off of him — not to mention justifying his even further behind schedule as the game goes on.

The Fix:

So how would I fix CAR?

There’s not a lot of work to be done here, honestly. Take out Barnacle Blast and substitute it with a more on-theme mini-game, lengthen out the game a bit by playing up Ingrid’s plotline along with everyone else’s and perhaps giving Elliott something to do in the latter half of the game so it’s not so obvious by that point that he’s the Villain, and you’ve pretty much clinched it without any real re-working.

Like I said in the last paragraph of the above section, a tweak of the cutscene with “ruining” Elliott’s work would help his and Nancy’s storyline to have a different and improved feel, but that’s pretty much it as far as concrete changes go.

The beauty of CAR is that its simplicity actually works, rather than feeling bare-bones or underwritten. It’s not a difficult or complex mystery, but that’s not the point of Nancy’s being there or of the game as a thematic whole.

Sure, CAR deals with some pretty heavy themes such as loss, loyalty, debt, revenge, trauma, shades of mental illness, and even the question of is a bad person necessarily a mean person, but it accepts those bad things in stride and knows that they’re necessary in order to tell a tale of resilience and a happy ending. Miles the Magnificent Memory Machine delivers that theme to both Nancy and to the player, after all: “even bad memories have a place in a good life”.

[wetalkinboutbooks]

An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

Summary: Laia is a slave. Elias is a soldier. Neither is free.

Under the Martial Empire, defiance is met with death. Those who do not vow their blood and bodies to the Emperor risk the execution of their loved ones and the destruction of all they hold dear.

It is in this brutal world, inspired by ancient Rome, that Laia lives with her grandparents and older brother. The family ekes out an existence in the Empire’s impoverished backstreets. They do not challenge the Empire. They’ve seen what happens to those who do.

But when Laia’s brother is arrested for treason, Laia is forced to make a decision. In exchange for help from rebels who promise to rescue her brother, she will risk her life to spy for them from within the Empire’s greatest military academy.

There, Laia meets Elias, the school’s finest soldier—and secretly, its most unwilling. Elias wants only to be free of the tyranny he’s being trained to enforce. He and Laia will soon realize that their destinies are intertwined—and that their choices will change the fate of the Empire itself. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: We genuinely love this book series so much that our brains recircuit talking about it... all we can do is say if you’re looking for good fantasy with amazing characters and plot... this is it!

Check out the spoiler full review below~

The Good:

→ The Worldbuilding 

Kae: Worldbuilding baybeeeeee. I LOVE IT. Reading this series was such an eye opener for me. It was so far from the usual European magic and broomsticks, that I NEEDED MORE. So I kept reading lol. The worldbuilding in this series is fantastic. There are Efrits, Jinn, magic, and more. This world is set in a Romanish Empire/Pakistani fusion of cultures. You have the Scholars are the lowest caste of people, the Tribes which is basically just a step up from ScholarS, but they are free. Then we have the Plebeians and the Martials. All of these cultures are so well written and developed that you have no trouble differentiating what culture certain characters might belong to just based on their name. Ex: Afyah, Ilyaas = Tribes; Darin, Laia, Izzy= Scholars; Markus=Pleb; Helene, Elias = Martials. All very easy to distinguish, I think. 

We also have some magical beings who are more or less immortal. The Jinn and Efrits, the Nightbringer, Shaeva, the Augurs. They’re all linked to a literal higher power. 

We also have The Waiting Place, which is basically purgatory. But it’s where the dead go to be escorted to the next life. 

Geena: I deserve no rights because I've always loved the whole roman empire history shit, it was always the most interesting shit to learn about so when I read the synopsis like roman inspired… written by a SA woman… i LOST MY SHIT!!! AND LIKE KAE DESCRIBED Sabaa does an amazing job of weaving in magical elements too, and ugh….. Her mind… BUT ALSO WHAT I LOVED IS, something a lot of fantasy authors do is fall into a hole of introducing race politics (aka RACISM) based on skin colour, but Sabaa was like… Wait Ik how to format this

Tired: Fantasy world skin-colour based racism

Wired: Fantasy world-class system based beef 

Sabaa tackles the issue of class systems and so on, and she did it all from scratch and I fucking loved it, it was gratifying to see an author who put so much effort into her worldbuilding. Also… this is v dumb… but the whole detail with sending messages using drums….. I was here for it 

→ Laia and Elias 

Kae: They’re wonderful and need a hug

Geena: Sabaa made an executive decision to write two whole cinnamon rolls and she did! COMPLEX cinnamon rolls that we love from the bottoms of our hearts. We start off with Laia’s perspective as she waits for her brother in her room, but shit hits the fan real quick and the Martial empire’s elite soldiers storm their small home searching for her brother. We learn that her brother, Darin, has got his hands on top secret info and if he doesn’t turn it over they’ll murder everyone. Darin and Laia try to make a run for it but are apprehended by a Mask (Essentially an elite soldier) and they’re forced to watch their grandparents die, Darin tells Laia to run and get out of there and our girl… our girl listens but she has mad ragrets. We follow Laia as she stumbles to the Resistance, an underground Scholar organization that has mad beef with the Martial empire. There she’s tasked with acting as a slave to hands down, the WORST person in the empire, Keris Veturia. All of this in the hopes that the Resistance will help save her brother who’s been imprisoned in the most brutal prison in the empire. 

What I love about Laia is that she’s not perfect, she’s not an amazing fighter and strategist off the bat… she’s an 18/19 year old girl from an oppressed group that has no idea what’s going on and her only skill set is that of a healer. BUT!!! Throughout the book we get to watch Laia make mistakes and learn from them, all of which makes her stronger and smarter. She’s so determined 🥺 even when Keris is carving her initials into Laia’s chest, even when she’s brought to the brink of death, Laia sticks with her goal to find Darin no matter the cost. Anyways.. We stan…. THOUGH TO BE HONEST, when I had started reading it, her first few chapters were frustrating to read because I was like “why would you do that1!!!” but then I set the book down at one moment and thought about how I’d act in the same situation and I was like….. I would’ve fucked up and been killed like 10 pages ago so Laia is doing really well LMAO… and since then I’ve been ready to fight for Laia whenever I see people shit on her.  

Kae: BOOM! So Geena summed up Laia’s character/situation perfectly. WE STAN LAIA OF SERRA. Now, we’re gonna talk about our brooding, handsome boy, Elias aka Ilyaas. Elias, is WILDLY the son of Keris. Keris had a lil boo thang back in the day and got preggers. She did everything she could to terminate the pregnancy, but nothing worked. So she was forced to give birth to him. She fucked off to the desert tribes for a while and learned how to deliver a baby, so she could deliver her own. When the time came, Keris gave birth to Elias. She cared for him for about five minutes before she was like “Yeah, I’m not with the shits. Fuck this kid.” And she left Elias in the desert near the tribes so he could be raised with them. Years later, Elias was chosen by the Martials to attend Blackcliff. Blackcliffe is a school where the Martials train to become the most elite soldiers in this world. Elias trains and trains and is ultimately the top of his class. At a certain age, the students are given silver mask that will eventually completely fuse to their face. Elias hates his mask. He takes it off every night, so it still hasn’t fused to his face like the rest of his class. Elias also hates Blackcliffe and was planning on being a deserter. He had a bag packed and was fully prepared to leave. He was sad to leave his best friend and confidant, Helene, but he was RET TA GO. That is, until he was selected to compete in the Trials that would change his world forever. These trials are to select who is to rule the Empire. He gets this news, when Laia, Keris’s slave is sent to retrieve him. When he meets Laia, he is instantly smitten. He forgets himself, is smiling, shooting the breeze, asking her names, etc. Then realizes, he could get her in trouble just for being nice to her. So they move along. 

Elias is a very sweet boy who just got caught up in a lot of shit with the trails. Every day he spends at Blackcliffe is another day he hates himself. The kid (well he’s like 20), is just straight up MISERABLE. These trials are to rest his mind, power, and strength and all the usual. The last two winners in the end will be the ruler and the Blood Shrike, aka advisor. This is almost a good thing, because Elias is competing with Helene and if they both win, they can both rule. Things are going pretty well for them. They’re winning, it’s looking good. But then, Elias has to go against Helene and they both have to lead a small armada against one another. It’s either kill or be killed. In the end, he has to go against Helene . In the end, he and Helene reluctantly battle it TF OUT. Elias wins because Helene had to forfeit because she was wearing some magical armor that couldn’t be penetrated. Elias feels HORRIBLE. His friends are dead. He ALMOST killed his best friend. He feels ashamed and like a monster. If he hadn’t hated himself before (which he totally die), he SURELY hates himself now. Laia is then sent to his chambers/rooms as his prize. He’s meant to sleep with her, but he hates himself too much and he doesn’t want to take advantage of her. So they just talk and end up sharing a little smoochy smooch. But uh, ya boy is lowkey SPRUNG cause Laia is cute and she got them CHILD BIRTHING HIPS.

Geena: Kae got that *Chef’s kiss* Elias/Ilyaas summary I s2g. I loved Elias because he was honest to god such a refreshing character to read. Like he seems like the typical YA boy → Tall, dark, handsome, and brooding. BUT!!! He’s so different and in the best way possible. FIRST OFF!!! He actually has such a fulfilling childhood (no sad backstory other than learning his mom is an actual piece of shit rip…. More like sad present story). Secondly, he recognizes that what he’s doing is wrong and the way the Martials terrorize Scholar’s is garbage and he wants no part of it. THIRD, he doesn’t like to push his own trauma on those around him? IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT WELL, but like he’s such an upstanding guy that treats people well no matter what? Also… he’s lowkey a dumbass… like Kae mentioned when he first met Laia his brain hit a reset and he was essentially like “Me name potato.” We love a hot dumb jock that chugs that respecting women juice. 

Kae: OMG HE’S A TALL, THINNER ALTAIR MINUS DICK JOKES. HE’S NASIR AND ALTAIR IN ONE.  ASDFGHJKL 

Geena: YEEEEAASSSSS (check out that review here). ALSO MY final thots on Laia and Elias that as a duo they’re amazing! Laia gives Elias advice when they’re stuck in his room together 🤪 and he finally chooses that he’ll do what HE wants and not what the empire wants. Elias, in turn, vows to help find and save Darin…. I love them sm they bring the best out of each other 😭 

→ Izzy ft. Helene’s One Singular Good Person Moment

Kae: IZZY! Izzy is the epitome is sugar, spice, and everything nice. Well, minus the spice because she’s really just a sweet little sugar plum. Izzy is also Keris’ slave. She’s around the same age as Laia if not a year or two younger. She’s very quiet and tries to keep to herself. But she finds herself secretly being friends with Laia and helping her when things are the absolute worst. When Keris carved her initials into Laia’s chest, Laia got really sick. Our girl had a crazy fever and Izzy was there to help her through it. Well, she got Elias and he got some herbs and shit, BUT IZZY HELPED. Though Izzy has been a slave her entire life, she has always wanted to be free of Blackcliffe and all of its horrors. So she works with Laia, sneaking out, and sometimes stealing, to make sure that can happen for the both of them. I should also mention that Keris took Izzy’s eye as a child. So Izzy is a small, skinny, fragile, one eyed sweetie. But all of her hardship doesn’t stop her from being such a genuinely good person. 

Geena: Izzy is such a sweet character who tries her best to not be friends with Laia, but people GRAVITATE to Laia (good and bad rip) so she didn’t hold out very long. My favourite scene with them was when they sneak out to participate in some yearly festival that is ~~illegal~~ such a sweet moment I lowkey died.  Moving on to Helene though, the poster child of brainwashed, patriotic, eating-propaganda-for-breakfast, and the second best Mask after Elias. Helene is also shown to have feelings for Elias so when Laia shows up she’s not pleased at all! And Elias himself is confused about his feelings and rip when he was like “Let me try to kiss Helene and see if I like her too” LIKE BOY…. DON’T PLAY HER LIKE THAT PLS…. BUT he doesn’t bc Laia is ATTACKED thus interrupting their moment and Helene is annoyed like “OFC IT’D BE THAT BINCH!!!” like Helene the poor girl was attacked by another walking bag of shit o my god… BUT!!! Near the end of the book when Elias and Laia are escaping Helene is the first one to catch them, but she lets them go! A turning point for her character maybe? Though I know for a fact she didn’t care about Laia, but was doing it bc she still cared for Elias and didn’t want to see him slaughtered no matter how much she’s a ride-or-die for the Martials. 

The Bad :  

→ The Scholar Resistance 

Kae: Is that what they were called? Because they HIGHKEY played tf out of Laia. Alright. The Resistance. They’re mean and I HATE THEM. The Resistance is a rebel movement by a few Scholars who are fighting for the freedom and equality or their people. Laia’s parents were like, the biggest, most badass leaders who have ever lead them. But after they died, things kind of fell apart for The Resistance. Laia, stumbles into their hideout after she runs away from home, after her brother was kidnapped and her grandparents were killed. She begs for them to help her and they’re basically like “Mmmm. No. But you look familiar tho… Who ya momma nem?” and she’s like “lol yeah actually my parents used to run this shit so help me.” And they help her… Kind of… They basically send her ona  dummy mission. A SUICIDE MISSION to be the Commandant’s slave (Keris), to gather information about the Martials and their next plan. In return, they were to help free Darin. Laia was to gather info, then meet with Keenan (a boy in the Resistance) to give over said info every week. Well, they also chose not to tell Laia that she was basically on this mission for nothing. They had no real way to get Darin out of the prison he was being held at. They were really just sending her to die because they KNEW Keris was ruthless and that none of her slaves lasted more than a few months before they were killed or killed themselves. Long story short, FUCK The Resistance. They’re bitches and we HATE THEM. 

Geena: Kae’s right… the Resistance is a bunch of wrinkly ass losers that can kiss our asses. When it was revealed that the Resistance didn’t know SHIT about Darin and were just fucking with Laia…. I was ready to to go down to this place and fight them mySELF. Laia risked EVERYTHING to get them information, she survived for god knows how long under Keris and when she couldn’t come up with something substantial they’d be like “Oh well you’re fucking useless” as if she’s not the daughter of the Lioness aka the most fierce Resistance leader that they ever had. Also, Keenan (....) comes through in the end and offers her a way to break her slave cuffs and escape, but Laia decides that Izzy deserves that more than she does and that Laia would find her own way out… But also imagine the betrayal that Laia felt, the people that were supposed to keep her safe and help her were just screwing her over the whole time. But… despite everything that happens Laia is still her sweet self? Just like Ilyaas… both manage to maintain their humanity no matter the shit thrown at them. 

The Ugly:  

→ Keris’ tiny little mean ass 

Kae: Geena said that shit, baybeeee! Ugh, her MIIIIND. Alright. Now. Let’s talk about “The Bitch of Blackcliffe”. This woman. Evil, vile woman, is basically a 5’3, blonde hair demon. She has absolutely no patience. If you sneeze in the same room as her she’ll probs slit your throat and make a disgusted, disappointed face at you while doing it. She will tolerate NOTHING. You will not speak to her unless spoken to. I mean, this is a woman who wanted to look like so much of a badass that she thought being pregnant and delivering her own baby in a cave alone would make her look weak. I think that was actually pretty tough of her though because whew… I couldn’t do it.

Geena: She got back to her neanderthal roots

Kae: LMAOOO GIRL IM DEAD.But like,  in her youth, Keris went to Blackcliffe. As we heard from her father at some point, Keris was miserable there. She was taunted, picked on, and beat up (mind you she was the only girl at that school so that’s fucked up). She had absolutely no friends and had to fend for herself. So, to make up for it, Keris became ruthless. She became a heartless woman because people made her that way. I hate to be that person, but like, I get it? I can see why someone would become so coldhearted. She did not have a good life. Her mother died when she was young, her father wasn’t there, and she had no friends. I’m not surprised at all that she turned out to be such a horrible person as an adult. No, I’m not giving he an excuse. She had the option to be a good person and she didn’t choose that. But, yeah. That’s my take on her evil ass.  WHEW. OKAY DO YA THANG. 

Geena: TRUE, Kae’s right, Keris had that sad :( childhood :( but at the same time, it’s like… you didn’t have to continue being a dick like people were to you but here we are. Also, she’s genuinely such a terrible person and orchestrates the genocide of the Scholars and is a BITCH about everything. What I realize now is that…. She’s essentially Elias’s foil? Like neither had a solid father figure, both had a tough time growing up (with Elias missing his tribal home and being forced to murder, and Keris being bullied), but Elias does his best to break out of that cycle but Keris is like… *slurps up the shitty Martial mudwater*... she is the bootlicker supreme who finds joy at having her son beheaded (Helene is Bootlicker Lite because at least she let Elias live whereas Keris tried her best to get him killed) BUT JOKES ON THAT BITCH BC ELIAS LIVES!!!!  Elias would send Keris a crude drawing of himself like “I lived bitch!” 

Anyways, she’s an extremely well-written villain else we wouldn’t hate her so much lmao…

Conclusion 

Kae: In conclusion, we fuck with it. I loved this series so much, I read the first three books in one week and was heartbroken to find out that the fourth book wasn’t out yet. YA GIRL IS ATTACHED TO THESE CHARACTERS, OKAY!???? An Ember in the Ashes is a wonderful, extremely well written book. I think Sabaa is a literal genuis. This book made me fall in love with reading all over again. I think the characters are so individually different, it’s amazing. They are well distinguished and independent of each other. They are strong and sweet and funny and evil. Just all around AMAZING as well as the folklore, stories, and cultures that are presented to the audience. 

Geena: yyyeeeaaaass the care that Sabaa Tahir put into this book, ranging from how each character is written to the intricate worldbuilding got a bitch tearing up, BECAUSE ONE DAY I WISH TO WRITE THIS WELL!! An Ember in the Ashes draws you in from the first page, and I litcherally say this for every book we’ve reviewed but there’s NEVER a dull moment (I need a new phrase lmao) you are constantly stressed reading this book (in a good way) and there’s like 2 more books after… and the last book in the series on the way. BLEASE READ Ember, because Kae and I have spent our whole time talking SCREECHING about this book. THINKING ABOUT IT, WITHOUT EMBER WE WOULDN’T HAVE THIS BLOG LMAOOO  

Kae: OKAY BUT LIKE. LITERALLY. WE STARTED TALKING AND BECAME REAL GOOD FRIENDS BECAUSE OF THIS BOOK. LIKE, WITHOUT EMBER, THIS WOULDN’T HAVE HAPPENED. SO THANKS, SABAA. 

Geena: WE LOVE YOU, SABAA!!

Kae: And I guess that concludes today’s book rant/review! I hope you all enjoy our ramblings and more!