#its nothing other than some accolades. whether or not someone likes it is up to them

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from "Chapter One: A World of Darkness" in Changeling: The Dreaming (20th anniversary edition)

Dreamers are taught that they won’t amount to much, that their creativity is a pale imitation of what came before.

Well-meaning, or envious, parents and friends consistently suppress talent in their loved ones, secure in the knowledge that they’re saving them from a huge mistake.

Repeated altercations eviscerate creativity until all that remains is overwhelming self-doubt and insecurity.

Every day is a struggle.

It’s not that they don’t care, they are just unable to grasp circumstances beyond their own social circle.

It’s not that they don’t care, they are just unable to grasp circumstances beyond their own social circle.

Old legends define a changeling as the offspring of mortals and faeries, or a faerie child switched out for a human one.

Ancient curses affect entire landscapes, monsters hide in withered forests, roads made of stardust allows travelers to visit vistas hidden among clouds, and ancient dragons and bygone beasts still roam the skies.

In order to survive this onslaught on their very essence, the fae turned to an ancient ritual which locked their immortal souls in human bodies.

The child talking to her teddy is, in fact, discussing courtly politics with her chimerical bear companion.

The most common means of learning about the past, then, is through the traditional art of storytelling.

Despite the thrill and excitement of hearing legends brought to life by storytellers, academic history is an extremely important factor in the pursuit of lost faerie knowledge, turning myth into truth.

Ancient texts are written in several, often pictographic, faerie languages, and quite often the words seemingly come alive, constantly realigning, rotating, and shifting locations to avoid being decoded.

Even when enough common denominators exist for a decent decoding, the end results often cause further questions, rather than providing answers.

Events become history. History becomes legends. Legends become myths, and myths are forgotten.

Religions told mortals to worship new gods and to turn away from old traditions and rules.

As scientific methods began to explain what mortals previously considered magic, the common folk took to the church’s teachings, foreswearing their old ways in exchange for salvation and a steadfast faith on which to cling in the darkest days.

On July 20, 1969, humanity witnessed the moon landing live on television, and all of the hope, fear, and wonder of the previous decade burst forth.

Mortal witnesses describe friends or family collapsing for a brief moment, then rising, confused for a short time, but brimming with confidence and an aura of regal quality.

However, no matter the chosen human body, they all belonged to someone wealthy and influential, or were members of highly-valued and powerful families in society.

Despite conflicts, both parties openly declared their intent to find peaceful solutions, regardless of acts of violence intended to derail such hopes.

However, this decree didn’t prevent individual members of the houses to cast their allegiance with the side for which they felt an affinity.

The time for discussions ended with blood on the walls, and only war remained.

Theirs was a passionate, whirlwind romance, but one that ended in tragedy.

Without warning, the sky seemingly ripped open and, to those with faerie sight, a red sun appeared, bathing the world in a sinister scarlet light reminiscent of blood.

Behold! Your true king returns!

Better a nightmare than dreamless sleep

Nonetheless, the nobility is not immune to the changes in the world.

No matter how well hidden, however, the child’s true nature marks her as different.

It may start small, with a mortal witnessing strange occurrences no one else sees.

Those that are found are the lucky ones.

The term fosterage comes from the medieval practice, where nobles would take on the children of another family to cement alliances or to build connections between noble children for the next generation.

She will take the lessons from her mentor forward, spending the rest of her days honing what she has learned.

Banality seeks to explain away the fantastic and categorize, empiricize, contain, and render mundane anything outside of the scope of accepted mortal understanding.

This process doesn’t happen all at once.

Many legends and epic stories came from the search for extended life, with outcomes ranging from sad hilarity to outright horror.

Legends speak about treasures that can extend youth or grant immortality once more, like the fabled Fountain of Youth, but so far none have been recovered.

The adventure might be worth it, though.

It is a place woven into the fabric of the mortal world, hidden behind and without, though its magic and influence can affect the physical world and those that live in it.

The land responds to the thoughts and deeds of the creatures that live there and adapts to their every whim.

The shifting landscape is so unpredictable as to throw off any seasoned traveler.

Only a few trods lead to this wholly unpredictable and constantly-shifting landscape.

The space is influenced by the strong dreams of mortals and the expression of powerful mortal feelings and creativity.

They held nothing but hatred and contempt for one another.

History has taught them through many a hard-earned lesson that they are able to accomplish these tasks much more effectively when they work together than when they’re at each other’s throats.

The pageantry and rituals serve as thread that runs through the ages, tying the generations together.

Their customs and lore serve as the glue that binds each individual to one another.

Everyone, from the lofty noble on his throne to the lowly chambermaid, has their duties in a well-organized society.

Without everyone working together, doing what’s expected of them, society would not be able to support itself.

Even a lifetime of tragedy and loss has its own poignancy.

The act of creation holds an inherent beauty.

Each new work of art, new performance, and new thought is a unique manifestation of creativity undreamed of in the world before.

Beauty must be preserved because it is the basis for all life.

Society cannot operate effectively without an inherent fairness.

A favor is always paid back with a reciprocating favor.

An object or service given is returned with something of equal value.

Loyalty deserves fidelity, and acrimony deserves hatred.

The self comes from within. It is the basis of being, granting the ability to reason, to question, to strive for improvement.

To know oneself is to make life worth living.

Identity requires freedom — the freedom to buck trends, to say no, and to try new things.

The only things that remain eternally unchanged are those that are dead.

The alternative is nothing but stasis.

Even at its most benign, stagnation leaves people woefully unprepared when everything they know eventually gets upended.

Once outside rewards are involved, whether tangible or simply accolades, the concept of honor twists people, making them do monstrous things.

Honor is nothing more than an ugly little lie told by tyrants designed to keep their slaves docile and obedient.

No one can follow his dream when an overlord is standing above him, micromanaging his life.

Everyone has responsibilities, but if given the freedom to be themselves, people will find ways to do the necessary things in their own way that doesn’t prevent them from doing the things that make life worth living.

Pranks were played, sometimes in jest and at other times scathing, at the expense of those in power.

A merry time was had by all while allowing the disenfranchised a chance to air grievances and have an outlet for their frustrations.

Their only goal is to force a response from those capable of alleviating some of the suffering.

To fit in as part of the mundane world they became traveling circuses, freak shows, or other transient groups.

Those of higher rank are respected by those of lower rank and are also expected to meet their obligations to the less fortunate.

Many nobles see their main business to be that of gaining — or retaining — power.

Alliances may shift between the nobles and circumstances may change, but all try to expand their holdings and rise higher up the social ladder.

Something has to give.

A noble expects obedience from his vassals and respect from all others. In return, the noble respects those superior to him.

Whether they like it or not, the nobility has had to concede that modern ideas of democracy and popular rule are realities now.

Still, most nobles rule through force, cunning, personal magnetism, and custom.

They must never reveal their true natures to humanity.

Some battles are fought to first blood.

[highlifesupernova]

Kanye West is My Problematic Fave

Can we separate our favorite works of art from the artists who created them?

I'll admit at the outset of this piece that I don't know the answer to this question. Over the last three years, one of my favorite musicians has put on that red hat, released a terrible record about a misogynistic religion, and stood between an unrepentant homophobe and accused domestic abuser on the porch of a replica of his mother's home at a third listening party for an album that seemed like it would never be released. What does that mean for our relationship with his work?

The common thread among my favorite musicians is theatrics - I love nothing more than discovering a universe of sound, concept, and drama in a piece of music. I loved the idea that Sufjan Stevens would release fifty state albums. One of my favorite records of all time is a concept album about the American civil war by Titus Andronicus. Lady Gaga won my heart when she bled out on stage at the 2009 VMAs as commentary on paparazzi culture. I've been a fan of Kanye West (which sometimes feels more like being a Kanye West apologist) since he turned near-universal vilification after interrupting Taylor Swift's award acceptance speech on that same night into one of the most artistically complete albums I know - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.

Although its artist remained polarizing, MBDTF achieved triumphant consensus among the public and critics alike. It topped best-of lists, produced the immortal singles "POWER" and "All Of the Lights", and earned a perfect 10 from the era's authority on "cool" music, Pitchfork (it also arguably set Pitchfork on the path to its fall from grace, but that's a whole other essay). The record is funny, sad, relatable, introspective, maximalist, and heavy on pop appeal. The Kanye West of MBDTF was disarmingly self aware. In lieu of apologetics, West invited us to experience his hedonistic, lush creative mind for an hour and eight minutes. He was unrepentantly an asshole, and reminded us that we all kind of were, too. He sold us darkness as an indulgence.

In addition to, or perhaps as a result of, being an incredible musical achievement, MBDTF gave West control over his public narrative. He'd been a talented, erratic figure in pop music for years, but with this crowning achievement he became the center of pop culture. He was no longer the egoistical Chicago producer with the backpack - he was the unconventional genius who had made one of the greatest hip hop records of all time. He moved into high art spaces, becoming a figure at fashion week, and ascended to the highest highs of celebrity, marrying one of the most famous women in the world. The public gave West a pass for his behavior because it seemed accessory to his brilliance.

The incident with Swift eventually began to take a backseat to West's music. In the years following the release of MBDTF, including the album cycle for Yeezus, his public persona was brash but ultimately benign. He declared himself a god, had some more close calls at awards shows, and liked some of the Gaga songs. He seemed to maintain control of his image, and his fans, including me, got used to defending him for his art.

Over time, possibly as West's mental health deteriorated, this showboating personality became an erratic one. He went through a MAGA phase, a cowboy phase, and ultimately a Jesus phase, each time expressing opinions that were difficult to rationalize with his prior moral alignment and unpopular among the young hip hop fans who hold him in high regard. It has gotten harder to be a fan. In an era where we've called into question whether a bad action can discredit someone's work, and sometimes find that to be justified, enjoying West's music makes me feel like I need to be ready to defend him as a person. I don't think I can in good faith. It's also hard to hang up my nostalgia for West's earlier work and my abiding adoration of his albums from the early 2010s.

The difficult thing about the case of Kanye West is that he has yet to cause material harm. He has come out with radioactively bad takes ("slavery was a choice"), aired his wife's dirty laundry in public, and associated with some of his more concretely morally delinquent peers. He hasn't, to the public's knowledge, hurt anyone. Engaging with West's work post-born-again-Christianity era might feel strange, but it isn't repugnant in the way that celebrating R. Kelly or Chris Brown is. Giving attention and accolades to someone with shitty opinions versus someone who has used their wealth and status to actively cause harm doesn't feel quite the same, and I don't think it should. Fans cling to this as evidence that we can separate West from his art, or perhaps that we don't need to. I have personally rationalized my support for West in this way.

I started this post intending to come to a different conclusion than the one I've come to since the release of Donda. I was going to talk about how our reactions to art aren't logical or rational, and how I think it's human nature to struggle with denying ourselves the things we love. Admittedly, I was writing this to defend my continued consumption of West's work to myself on the eve of the new record's release. I still think that reasoning holds, but I also think it applies to feeling betrayed by an artist and finding one's opinion of their art tainted as a result.

The Independent gave Donda a zero-star rating, citing accused intimate partner abuser Marilyn Manson and noted homophobe DaBaby's involvement with the record as an inexcusable flaw. This review has been derided to hell by the wider internet, and I don't disagree that perhaps it'd have been more professional to publish a refusal to review the album, but I also can't argue strongly in West's favor here. Even if his apparent statement of solidarity with Manson and DaBaby was an attempt at a demonstration of Christian forgiveness, it is a bad look for West to deliver that absolution without comment in a public platform. I was raised Catholic, and having to sit in that weird little confessional booth really drove home that Christian God expects repentance before he's granting anyone forgiveness. Forgiveness can be earned -- and there are many times when the public could stand to be a bit more merciful -- but it is certainly not given for free. Nobody is obligated to forgive Marilyn Manson, DaBaby, or Kanye West. If the album is unlistenable to someone in the context of their actions, that is a fair reaction.

For the record, I actually quite like Donda. I think it's a fine album and the rollout was entertaining. I also know its release was engineered for maximum shock value, and I don't like that Manson's alleged victims were collateral damage.

There's a shade of grey here that I think is often passed over when we talk about separating art and artists, a shade I think West actually leaned into perfectly in the lead up to MBDTF; the art we like can be taken in context of the things we don't like about it. Kanye West makes incredibly innovative music, and is also very difficult to defend as a public figure in good faith. Those two things have never been mutually exclusive, and synergism of the two is what has made West the cultural icon he is. We don't have to talk ourselves into things being unproblematic in order to like them, and it's okay to sit with unresolved discomfort about art.

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2021, Day 24: Health and Healing

Higurashi Month prompts archive: AO3 

When Irie first came to Hinamizawa, admittedly, he hadn’t been expecting much.

Well –that was a lie. He had been expecting everything, afire with excitement and anticipation as he all but stumbled out of his car and made for the door of the clinic, thinking of nothing but the mysteries to be unraveled, the excitement of discovery, the possibilities of a new disease and the help he could do with studying it. His mind was full of thoughts of redemption, of getting back his credibility in the academic world, of showing people the truth of his life, that the brain was the person and when it was damaged, so were they.

Compared to the plans and the excitement swirling in his mind, Hinamizawa was –what? Some place in the mountains? Some odd corner of the world with a microclimate suited to the pathogen he would study?

Hinamizawa was nothing. Backdrop. Not important.

But then, as he talked with the citizens, slowly measuring them up for the Hinamizawa Syndrome that he knew slept inside their body, he found himself distracted. That was only common courtesy. He was here to administer to their ills, and although he was focused on one they were unaware of, he was still the village’s only doctor. He had a responsibility to these people, as welcoming and fiercely insular as they could be at turns. They respected him, took pride in the solidarity of their community, but he was –an outsider. Not one of them. Their warm welcomes turned into cold shoulders the moment they thought they might be pushing too far, that they might make him think that he was one of them.

Irie didn’t really mind. As he said, he was here to study and to learn and to heal, not to settle permanently. Oh, Hinamizawa was beautiful enough –he saw that in his grocery runs, as he was running around– but he had more important things to focus on.

Slowly, though, like vines creeping over a stone wall and eroding it, appreciation for the place around him stole into Irie’s heart. The people here were staunchly loyal, whether to each other or to ideas, and more than once Irie heard himself being spoken of with pride, as Hinamizawa’s doctor. He might not be one of them, but he was theirs, a fixture of their village that they were proud to display. As one of the most educated people in the area –even if he was an outsider– he found himself increasingly invited to the village council meetings, becoming someone whose opinion was worth listening to, even if he wasn’t always respected. He was one of the youngest members, after all, both figuratively and literally.

Irie didn’t know when it was that he started thinking of Hinamizawa as home, as himself as a permanent part of the community. He didn’t know when he stopped thinking about what he would do, where he would go when the study was done, when he started thinking about being invited to lectures and academic meetings with resignation rather than enthusiasm. Hinamizawa was slowly entangling him in its roots, and clutching him deep.

He didn’t mind. Like he said, Hinamizawa was a beautiful place, and the more he grew to know its people, the more Irie admired them. When he started coaching the baseball team, he felt a kind of happiness unlike any he ever remembered having before –the pride of an adult, perhaps? The pride of knowing that not only had he become a doctor, gotten a job, gotten accolades within his business, but that he was also giving back to his community, becoming a part of the people that lived here, becoming a rock that anyone could rely upon and trust?

Hinamizawa wasn’t all honey, of course. The more Irie grew enamored of its people, the more fearful he grew of his research, what he was doing. He couldn’t –wouldn’t– forget that nightmarish night in which he had dissected a man alive, a man that they had turned into a living doll for weeks as he was experimented on again and again. The warning signs had been everywhere, but Irie was caught up entirely in the thrill of the research, the promise of knowledge.

It took the Hojos to start waking him up.

Irie felt for them, grieved for them, and when Satoko was diagnosed with Level 5, he’d sworn he would do everything he could to help her, even though Takano was lurking like a vulture, practically begging to use the dissection scalpel on a child. He felt even more misgivings then, but pushed through them, set them aside, in order to focus everything he was on helping Satoko.

He didn’t know what happened the third year of the curse.

But the fourth…

By that time, Irie was firmly ensconced in Hinamizawa, in the community, in the village council, even as the head doctor of the clinic. Hinamizawa had him entirely in its clutches, and there was Satoshi, begging him for help, to look after Satoko, even as the drugs took him under. Irie knew that Satoshi was a murderer, that he had almost certainly killed his aunt –and yet, he felt no hesitation, just as he had felt none in manipulating the police years ago, hiding the terrible truth that Satoko might have been responsible for her parents’ death from everyone, even herself.

In the worlds that he survived past June of 1983 –the years where Okonogi didn’t smile and hand him a cup of coffee that tasted just a little off, that made him sleepier instead of more awake as he tried to puzzle out what on earth had happened to Takano, that made him lay his head down and drift away– Irie never left. Even when duties and testimonials and other things drew him away, he always came back, because he was a part of Hinamizawa now, and he had never felt better.

[the-melting-world]

The Gardener pt.5

Vulpes Animus ~ In which a humble gardener visits the snack bar ...

~ 1.2k words

Catch up on the Gardener Saga

Asra offered his arm before he and Kipling set off for the tea room. The gardener was rendered a little speechless by his fresh attire. Unlike the plain white garments he had on before, these fabrics were vibrant and revealed much more of his chest and arms.

Kipling slipped her arm into his. A tingling warmth spread throughout her body as he tucked it between his bicep and rib cage. 

Asra said, “The garments that the Countess selected suit you well.”

Kipling blushed at the compliment, but he wasn’t finished. 

“However, I would have to say that your hair,” he found the silver lock again and traced its path through her crown braid, “is what really completes the ensemble.”

Asra tugged Kipling along before she had a chance to reply. But she didn’t mind. She leaned into his side and exhaled quietly when his arm quickly looped around her back and hugged her waist.

“Pardon me,” he whispered as they nearly approached the tea room, “I couldn’t help myself.”

Kipling giggled and reminded him, “We have to avoid giving the courtiers something to gossip about.”

They walked up to the door and the attendants bowed before admitting them inside.

Out of the corner of his mouth, Asra said, “I can already tell that’s going to be difficult.”

The two of them entered a circular, airy hall with a high, vaulted ceiling. Pale, white light filtered inside and reflected off of the marble walls and sky blue furniture. A white grand piano occupied the far wall. Its bench was the only Vesuvian-style furniture in the room. The rest of the space was styled like the palaces in Praka with thick, dense cushions and pathways of floral carpets. 

The courtiers lounged about the hall, none of them paying Asra and Kipling any mind. They were all too engrossed in their board games, tea, gossip, and smoking tobacco from communal glass bowls. 

It wasn’t long before Kipling spotted Consul Valerius, the only noble in the room who was already looking at her and Asra before Nadia called attention to their arrival. The consul stared at them unblinkingly over the rim of his wine glass, the ghost of a sneer playing on his lips.

Kipling rolled her eyes and focused on Nadia, who energetically rose to her feet and floated across the room to greet them. She kissed both of them on the cheek and spoke in an undertone.

“Finally! You most certainly took your time. I hope it was worth it.”

Kipling vigorously nodded her head. Asra did the same. 

Nadia’s gaze turned sly as she observed the way Asra has his arm hanging loosely about Kipling’s waist. And then Kipling’s nerves betrayed her and made her glance back to the other side of the room at Valerius. His focus hadn’t wavered and it was clear that he too was absorbing the placement of Asra’s arm.

Kipling narrowed her eyes at him.

Why would he even care?

“Asra, Kipling, come. Save me from General Rumel’s drivel on invasion tactics during the Gilded Crusades.”

Nadia came between them, looped her arms through theirs, and swept both of them towards the central cluster of cushions. Kipling took her seat around a low-rising table. Nadia introduced her and Asra to the nobles seated there. It took Kipling by surprise when she was referred to as the royal gardener’s apprentice. She wasn’t sure whether to interpret this gesture as a promotion or if Nadia was merely saying it to save the nobles from the discomfort of breaking bread with someone with no accolades to speak of. 

The tea served was strong and distracted Kipling from the rumbling of her stomach, but she couldn’t help glancing at the long table on the other side of the room covered with trays of cheeses, fruits, and delicate sandwiches.

Asra turned away from Nadia and the nobles and rested a hand on her wrist. “Kipling, are you hungry?”

She tried not to let it show. “I mean, I can wait until Nadia’s ready.”

He secured her hand in his and helped her to her feet. “Pardon me. Countess?” He flashed a charming smile. “Kipling and I will be back. We’re going to the snack table.”

Nadia gave a knowing grin and waved them off. “No need to come back. I’m perfectly content with Belarus and Rumel.”

Kipling mimicked Asra’s slight bow of gratitude before they made their way to the food. As if it knew that she was out of earshot of the nobles, her stomach growled in anticipation.

Mortified, Kipling placed her hand over her abdomen. “Asra, I’m so sorry you have to listen to this.”

He chuckled and gave her arm an encouraging squeeze. “Please, don’t apologize. I’m sorry that you had to wait this long to eat.”

The two of them reached the table and sorted through the food that Kipling wanted to take with them. Once they had filled a couple of plates, she followed Asra to an isolated cluster of cushions. It was located in a spot where they could see most of the hall without standing out too conspicuously.

Kipling’s heart fluttered at the thought of spending this time alone with Asra.

Once they got comfortable, another unpleasant bubbling erupted from her stomach. Kipling shut her eyes and concentrated on calming it down. She refused to be the first one to stuff her mouth in front of Asra and all of these nobles.

“Kipling.”

She opened her eyes to see Asra’s hand pushing a triangle-shaped sandwich in her direction.

“Open your mouth.” He fed her the sandwich, and she had to fight to keep her eyes from rolling back. For a moment, Kipling’s mind blanked and without a second thought, she took another bite. This time her lips caught onto his fingertips.

Remembering where she was, she pulled back and covered your mouth. “Sorry.”

Asra watched her with hooded eyes while she chewed. He popped the rest of the sandwich into his own mouth and said, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. How is it?”

Kipling savored the thin slices of cucumber, tomato, and the vinegar-based sauce. 

She smiled and sighed. “It’s just what I needed.”

Asra lifted the plate. “Would you like another?”

That was when Kipling noticed some leftover dressing clinging to the corner of his mouth. She grabbed one of the napkins nearby and leaned towards him.

“Hold on. You’ve got some . . .” she trailed off, concentrating on dabbing the corner of his lips. His eyes grew wide, but he went perfectly still. The direction of his gaze made her realize that the outfit Nadia had selected revealed much more than what she was used to. 

For some reason Kipling couldn’t yet explain, she didn’t mind when Asra’s gaze wandered past her neckline.

“Ahem.”

She and Asra both turned towards the new voice.

“You artisan types have so much trouble avoiding messes, don’t you?”

Casting a shadow over them and casually swishing the wine in his glass was the arrogantly handsome Consul Valerius.

[valkyrieelysia18]

RWBY Rewrite: Pyrrha Nikos

Hello again! And this time I get to use that for the right post. Today we are taking a look at one of the characters that got severely short changed when it came to character development Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha is perhaps one of the more popular characters of RWBY and her background and fighting abilities gave her immense potential. Her personality was rather sweet too. Unfortunately, the first two volumes didn’t really give her much outside of Jaune and when we finally got something in the third volume, she got killed off. Here’s the thing....I don’t actually mind that she got killed off.

Now before you all crucify me, let me explain. Volume 3 was a mixed bag of storytelling, but I don’t have any problems with the deaths and losses. It was a good way of setting the tone going forward: People are going to die, characters we have grown close to aren’t safe, and even our main team is not untouchable. Pyrrha’s death, the death of the seemingly untouchable perfect hero that seemed fated for success, was honestly a good idea.....executed poorly.

To get what I’m going on about, I’m going to talk about one of the few things I think the original Fullmetal Alchemist anime did better Brotherhood; the buildup and death of Maes Hughes. We get introduced to him a couple of years prior to the story’s present and when we come back to the current time, we see Maes quite a bit whether it helping the other characters or just him being his loveable self. We know him and his family very well. We see him as a father, a husband, a soldier, and a friend. When he dies, its a genuine gut punch. Especially because we know he had a life prior to the plot.

That was never something I got from Pyrrha. For someone who hates her fame, we don’t really see her deal with it all that much outside of her first conversation with Weiss and the Pumpkin Pete’s advertising which one episode in early Volume 1. We only get her talking about one member of her family (her mother) and it’s never brought up again. No, that scene in Argus does not count. Show, don’t tell is a very much a problem with Pyrrha’s story arc.

Then of course there is the biggest problem of all this: her relationship with Jaune. Now, I’m going to get into this more when we get to the Rewrite for the Jaunedice Arc, but I’ll give you a brief overview of feelings on him. I like Jaune and I don’t think that he’s an inherently bad character. He does have some good qualities and potential. Unfortunately, even though I like Jaune, I recognize that he has gotten way too much screen time (to the detriment of many other characters including Ruby and Pyrrha) and he has gotten away with a lot of things with little blowback to himself. I guess I’m more inclined to blame the writers than Jaune because everyone is done in by the writing. So, it’s still going to be there, but majorly changed to make it a lot more balanced and believable. Basically, the relationship is important to her, but it doesn’t define who she is as a character.

I feel this writing is going to get a bit more in depth so prepare yourself accordingly. Also note that I dropped RWBY after Volume 6 so anything introduced or mentioned in Volume 7 and beyond will be disregarded. So let’s get into it!

Before Beacon: Prophecy and Fame

In this Rewrite, Pyrrha was born in a port city in Southern Anima that draws heavily from the Ancient Greco-Roman culture. She was the only child of very prosperous merchants, her family having gained great wealth following the Great War due to their ties to other kingdoms in trade. Much like Weiss’s family, they’re relatively noveau rich. Her parents doted on her and when she got older, they saw she was a natural in the art of combat. They took her to a seer in the city, an older woman by the name of Laurel Visione who as you might guess is a reference to the Oracle of Delphi. Laurel tells Pyrrha and her parents that she was blessed with great strength and talent. That her star is bright and she has the ability to become a great warrior with a great destiny.

Her parents are pleased by these words, but Pyrrha notices the woman seems to be holding something back. As her parents leave, she lingers behind and asks the woman about it. Laurel smiles and tells that those gifted with that much brightness, also tend to burn out young. She goes on and tells Pyrrha that if she chooses the path of a hero, she will save many lives and inspire many more, but it will also take her away from what she truly wants. It doesn’t mean that she will die, free will should always be taken into account, but if she chooses this path she will meet death sooner rather than later. She’s telling Pyrrha this because it’s her destiny, not her parents, and its up to her to choose how she’s going to face that destiny. As a parting piece of advice, she tells her that everything happens for a reason, even if we don’t see that reason until much later.

Pyrrha keeps this all in mind, as well as keeping it a secret from her parents. We’ll get back to Laurel later.

Her parents, unaware of this, go all out in supporting her in her training. With every new tournament and success, their pride grows even more. They do however realize, that the success is affecting her standing among her peers, her fame making it all but impossible for her to have friends. There is an also accident with Pyrrha’s semblance that almost permanently injured someone because Pyrrha lost control. As a result, Pyrrha only uses a fraction of her semblance’s power and that gives more context to when she got upset during Volume 3 when she used it on Jaune in the courtyard.

When she announces to her parents she’s applying for Beacon, they’re shocked. Not everyone who graduates from a combat school ends up at the Academies (such institutes are super competitive) and with Pyrrha’s semblance mainly geared towards fighting people, throwing away her tournament career when she’s at the top of her game seems rash. Tournament fighting isn’t easy and isn’t as prestigious as being a Huntress, but it’s also much safer with sanctioned rules and the paycheck being just as lucrative. Not to mention, she’d be doing her schooling on a completely different continent. As parents, they love their daughter and want what's best for her, but they honestly can’t understand why she’s doing this. Nevertheless, she’s made her decision and there’s nothing they can say to change her mind. All they can do is see her off with a smile and wish her well.

Beacon: Fame, Friendship, and Love

Now a somewhat constant thing that comes up with Pyrrha during her school days is that her fame is very much hanging over her. Students are constantly trying to get her autograph, people like Cardin try to rile her up, and during the tournament some Haven students openly disparage her for transferring to another kingdom. This will eventually allow her and Weiss to get closer, as Weiss has had to deal with fame and even higher expectations since she was younger than Pyrrha.

Her relationship with her teammates become the first genuine experiences she has with friendship; Nora is a great workout buddy who makes everyone laugh and Ren is someone she can talk a lot of things over with such as the differences between Central Anima and Southern Anima. However, she is new to working with a team and it takes her a little while to get used to it. This is part of the reason why she’s so trusting of Jaune’s leadership at the beginning until it is shaken by him revealing the truth about his transcripts.

Of course, being a rewrite she also gets a lot more interaction with Team RWBY. Her relationship with Ruby is very much highlighted with the younger girl being a tad more idealistic and naïve with Pyrrha being a bit more reserved and more knowledgeable about her future goals. These two are very much foils to each other, which I will get to later on.

Then of course there is her relationship with Jaune. In the show, she says that Jaune was the first person to treat her as a regular girl and this rewrite will be showing that. While others will be interested in her accolades and fame, Jaune will show interest in Pyrrha as a person like the things she enjoys and what growing up for her was like. They start on a strong friendship with Pyrrha’s feelings developing into something more and Jaune a tad more oblivious to it. This will definitely change their relationship from Volumes 1 and 2, but not 3. Though I would probably cut out one of the Arkos songs because there are two more than it needs to be. It gives off the impression that Pyrrha defined herself solely by her relationship with Jaune and you never want to make a character come off as just a love interest to another character. And there are so many other people who would probably benefit with a song POV.

Death: Aftermath and Distrust

The main difference about Pyrrha’s death in canon and this rewrite is that her death affects everyone in the main group, especially her teammates and Ruby. Jaune is still very affected as he was her partner and friend and still has very conflicted thoughts over her romantic feelings towards him, but Ren and Nora are also noticeably grieving her in their own ways. Ruby tries to bottle it up most of the time, much like how she treats a lot of her negative emotions and that comes back to bite her much later on when she is at her lowest and reaches her emotional breaking point. For most of the story, she gets very haunting dreams about Pyrrha (occasionally accompanied by Penny) saying that she has accepted her destiny and questions what Ruby is going to do. This will be foreshadowing for what I’ll talk about in the next section.

The biggest effect that Pyrrha’s death has is that JNR is much more distrusting of Ozpin than RWBY. While they will recognize that Pyrrha made her own decision and they blame Cinder and the others for her death, they still see the whole choice presented to Pyrrha as extremely sketchy and questionable. Pyrrha was the type of person who would not have said no if it meant saving people. And more than just what could have been the result of the transfer, its the fact that they chose a first year student for the job when there should have been better candidates with more experience and a better understanding of what they were getting into (especially as we know the cut off date for Maiden powers is 30).

Jaune, Ren, and Nora still see Salem and her group as the biggest threat to humanity, but that doesn’t mean they like or trust Ozpin (this is not the same for Oscar, but that’s another post). And given that this rewrite will make Oz a much more morally gray character who HAS done some pretty reprehensible things in his conflict with Salem, this distrust will turn out to be very much justified.

Another change to the story is that after Mistral Arc, JNR would actually split off from the main group. Getting the Relic to Atlas is definitely a priority, but this also leaves Shade Academy in a bit of the dark with how things are going. So RWBY, Qrow, and Ozcar would head to Atlas with the Relic while JNR accompanied by Team SSSN would head to Vacuo (which doesn’t have closed borders and therefore would be easier to travel to) after a taking a short detour to Pyrrha’s hometown to give the news to her parents in person. This would make writing the Atlas Arc easier by trimming down the size of the group.

The meeting with Pyrrha’s parents....does not go well. The actual confirmation of their daughter’s death is heartbreaking and their grief and anger is focused on the immediate targets: her teammates. They angrily ask why they didn’t try to stop her or get professional help. They especially treat Jaune harshly when he tells them she sent him away before going to confront Cinder. The three very much realize that they’re not welcome and present what’s left of Pyrrha’s personal things (including her circlet). The two calm down a bit as they see these things and accept them with thanks, but politely tell the group to leave and allow them to grieve alone. They disapproved of her choice and this result makes them feel justified in their opinion. They feel cheated of their only child, who could have done so much...had she not chosen to become a Huntress. 

As JNR leaves the house, they’re greeted by Laurel Visione. After a brief conversation about her past with Pyrrha in Laurel’s home, they question why she would tell Pyrrha about her destiny if that destiny would lead to her death. Laurel would tell them that she wanted to Pyrrha to understand the full risks of the path she was walking towards. If she wanted to turn back from that, she could have, she’d have more than enough time to come to the decision, but she choose not to. She accepted her destiny and had viewed it with a measure of peace. Laurel states that she probably died with some regrets, very few people don’t, but she made her own decision to that end and she wouldn’t have blamed anyone for it.

Before the group leave to meet up with Team SSSN to head to Shade, Laurel tells them one last thing: That the choice that Pyrrha had in front of her is the same one that Ruby is also going to deal with.

Destiny: Ruby

Perhaps the best way to summarize the foil relationship between Pyrrha and Ruby is a quote from one of my favorite animes of all time Princess Tutu: “Those who accept their fate find happiness; those who defy it, glory.”

Pyrrha knew from practically the beginning that her destiny as a hero would lead to an early end. And she accepted it. If it meant saving others and doing what was right, she would gladly give her life to do so. During Volume 3 with the Maiden choice hanging over is when she actually considers walking away from everything and staying with her friends, realizing what Laurel meant all those years ago. But in the end, she still chose her path even if she didn’t know everything about what was going on.

As for Ruby, I mentioned Raven giving a warning to Ruby about using her eyes would lead to an early grave like her mother and grandfather (who are posthumous characters who will play a role in the greater story). I’m not going into specifics right now, but the Silver Eyes bear a great cost in this Rewrite and almost all Silver Eyed Warriors die extremely young. The path of a Silver Eye, of a great hero that Ruby had wanted to emulate, will turn out to have a dark price to it. 

The difference between Ruby and Pyrrha is that Ruby does not accept this fate. She will not walk away from the fight, but she is not going to readily sacrifice herself either. She is going to take a look at her fate, her people’s history, Ozpin and Salem’s conflict, and tell them to screw destiny. Screw people making assumptions and choices for her. The only person who gets decide who she is and what she stands for is her. And everyone has the right to make that same decision.

OKAY, that post took longer than I thought it was going to. At least I got it out before I went with my family on our Christmas vacation. The next post will probably get out in 2020. As for the topic, let’s just say it’s not about a person....

[chicagoindiecritics]

New Written Review from Mike Crowley on You’ll Probably Agree: 10 Reasons Why ‘Blade Runner 2049’ is better than ‘Blade Runner’

If you haven’t’ seen the movie, see it then read this. No intro, let’s jump right in.

1. K is a replicant

The reveal of K’s genetic code, or lack thereof, flips everything we assume the movie will be on its head. We are learning along with K what it means to exist. Do we as humans, live like replicants? Do we obey a society that treats us like trash but breath anyways out of the fear of death? Where we viewed “Blade Runner” mostly through Deckard’s eyes who didn’t have much of a personality, K’s lack of a character is his entire purpose for existing. For K to emote is to face death.

Where Harrison Ford’s Deckard entire arc was us questioning if he’s human or not (despite what Ridley Scott unequivocally says), there’s nothing much of substance to Officer Deckard. He gets drunk, retires replicants, that’s it. Name one thing that makes Deckard standout? I’ll wait. Ryan Gosling’s Officer K goes from a machine that is dying spiritually on the inside to someone wanting to have a purpose in life. All while maintaining his composure, if perhaps too much poise for the film. Anything with a conscious can feel. Whether or not how it was made is as relevant as where you were born or what skin color you are. The importance is that you’re here.

K doesn’t seek gratitude nor affirmation. He doesn’t suffer from a narcissistic personality. All he wants is not just to be another useless piece of metal.

2. Deckard has depth this time

Being a daddy changes you a lot. Rick isn’t just a slouchy drunk who likes to shoot robots out of legal obligation. He’s a man who’s principles and love for forbidden things cost him his life. What kind of soul did Deckard have in the first film? Who did he care for? Please don’t say, Rachel, we all know why he was attracted to Rachel. Like Winston in 1984, Deckard rejects Big Brother for a life of pain to gain a glimmer of happiness. 

3. It’s horrifyingly relevant

Denis Villeneuve based the imagery in 2049 on a planet that has become degraded with pollution. The buildings are extrapolating enormous amounts of water into the atmosphere, the sea wall at the end of the picture will be our new Mount Rushmore, the orange Vegas is happening now. Denis Villeneuve didn’t predict the earth looking like this, but his production team was still spot on. A picture that transcends its very style, developing a look that will be discussed on its merits separate from the ubiquitous original, is a stunning achievement.

Everything isn’t dystopian because that’s the way it was in the book. It’s what will happen to us in real life, why we’d look for colonies to live on if we had the technology or funding towards NASA to do so. God help us all.

4. The love story questions the essence of relationships

The story between K and Joi further examines the meaning of love, sex, and mortality, with the two being different versions of artificiality. When the default sexed-up version of a naked Joy pops up on the screen, we are emotionally mortified. Some of us may be repulsed to observe a character we care for utilized like a thirsty Godzilla.

The towering ad tries to seduce K tempting him to buy it, rendering everything Joi said to K throughout the picture questionable. Its manipulation solidifies his final decision in life to help another man. We’re not sure if she loved him or said what it thought it wanted him to hear throughout the narrative. Possibly Joi herself didn’t know her intentions. An unusual amount of nuance and uncertainty rests in the love story. Who do we love? Why do we love? Do we love by the heart or the heart of our designers whom we don’t know?

Meanwhile, Deckard was just drunk and horny when he bashed Rachel up against the wall. Sorry, that really was all there was to their passion despite what Wallace says.

5. The movie was an honest commentary about how the world views woman

Here’s a controversial one. A lot of women were disgusted by the way they were depicted in the film. Outwardly watching the movie, I can’t blame them. I’ll let Mr. Villeneuve speak for himself. “I am very sensitive to how I portray women in movies. This is my ninth feature film and six of them have women in the lead role. The first Blade Runner was quite rough on the women, something about the film noir aesthetic. But I tried to bring depth to all the characters. For Joi, the holographic character, you see how she evolves. It’s interesting, I think. What is cinema? Cinema is a mirror on society. Blade Runner is not about tomorrow; it’s about today. And I’m sorry, but the world is not kind on women.”

Villeneuve is right. Women today are still sexualized. Even with the Me Too movement, women are continually seen as sex objects or subservient slaves in a male-dominated society. Villeneuve isn’t interested in painting a rosy picture that Hollywood does for female roles to make the audiences feel comfortable. It’s an honest reflection on who we are. What we see is what we don’t want to see, but that’s part of the honesty of cinema.

6. The score is mesmerizing

Another point in which I may face some contention. Yes, Vangelis’ score is iconic, but it only works for the era it was composed in. Much of its mixture of bleeps, blops, and wind chimes are a product of its time. A lot of emotion is missing from the score other than the opening theme and “Tears In Rain.” Hearing much of the soundtrack while on the road, I sometimes thought I was listening to something from a porno. Take a listen to “Wait For Me” in the soundtrack and tell me otherwise. Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch’s score is timeless while also paying respect to Vangelis’ synthetic use in the original. It dives into the character’s mind providing a replication of something more human than what Vangelis composed.

7. It thematically ties more directly to “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” than “Blade Runner” does.

“Blade Runner” got the overall gist of Phillip K Dick’s novel. Replicants are scared, trying to find a way to survive as Deckard hunts them down. However, the Andies in the movie almost deserve to die. In their quest for more life, they torture and kill multiple civilians. What did the guy making the eyes do to deserve being frozen to death? What about J.R. Sebastian? He was nothing but pleasant to Roy and Pris. Did Roy eye gauge him when he was done with Tyrell?

Aside from Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), our replicants are fully rounded people. Sapper Morton is a watchful protector who was meant to be a NEXUS 8 combat medic; Joi’s true intentions come into question for herself and us. K’s inner conflict is the central core of the story. All of this revolves around the meaning of existence within a world that has forgotten about you. The introduction of Robo procreation is an evolution of Dick’s ideas, widening his notion of why life exists in the first place.

8. It doesn’t get lost in the scale

Many sequels love scope over characters. Remember “The Matrix”? Remember how they talked about Zion and all these other things we didn’t see? When the sequels brought in Zion, the focus got lost in the spectacle. “The Matrix Reloaded” was a bumbling CGI mess of Agent Smith Clones and cave orgies. “The Matrix Revolutions” was a glorified “Space Invaders” game. Shoot as many sentinels as you can before becoming overwhelmed. Amidst the sequels bumbling chaos, I missed the smaller scale of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.

The story of “2049” could have focused on the replicant uprising with thousands of robots slamming into humans. We could have gone off-world to finally see what all these other colonies we’ve heard about are like. Some have argued that the movie could have borrowed some of its source material from the later novels about replicants creating humans, so on and so forth. All of that sounds incredible in theory. In execution, you would likely get “The Matrix” sequels.

A movie that overreaches in scope, attempting to please fans by showing everything. What we got was an incredibly meaningful story that further explores the themes of the original while building upon its world without going too far. We see what’s beyond L.A. on the dilapidated west coast. The answer is not much. The film aims at minimalism over extravaganza.

9. We’re still talking about it

After being MIA for decades, “Blade Runner 2049” isn’t forgotten. I can’t say the same for “Superman Returns,” “Monsters University,” “The Incredibles 2,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” and “Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.” In fairness, people do talk about Indy 4, but not in a positive fashion. “Blade Runner 2049” returned to the limelight with disastrous box office results yet high accolades, even gaining the Academy’s attention. Ironically it seemed destined to live the life of its predecessor.

“2049” may have tanked because it was a multimillion-dollar art film that respected its audience’s intelligence. Maybe “Blade Runner” was too far gone amongst the public to gain an interest geared almost entirely towards comic books and Disney. I think the trailers after the reveal teaser looked too generic for my own two cents, turning me off from the film for a short while.

Here we are with Honest Trailers in 2020, making a video about a film that came out in 2017. Bloodsoaked orange skies from the headlines mention the atmosphere of this film. Somewhere, about 100 other people are writing their analysis of “Blade Runner 2049” as I type right now. Seven years from now, we’ll be talking about why the world is still like “Blade Runner 2049.” Villeneuve made a timeless sequel to be remembered.

10. It’s better than the first film and one of the best films in the last ten years

Here’s why you’ll probably agree with this one when you put your pitchfork down. Remove your nostalgia goggles. I know it’s hard to do, please, trust me. Look at the points I made above. Think about how ironic the love story is to our lives. The layers of meaning behind K’s existence is lightyears beyond the featureless Rick Deckard. The picture isn’t flawless. Niander Wallace is spectacularly corny in his scenery-chewing grim monologues. Dr. Eldon Tyrell had some ambiguity regarding the morale of his intentions. For that, I’ll give the original the benefit of my doubt. I understand Ryan Gosling was cast to be intentionally deadpan, but it’s okay to emote once. His distant stare in all of his other performances made it difficult for me to discern myself from the actor’s rather dull persona.

With this said, “Blade Runner 2049” understands cinema. Its atmosphere is why we venture into a dark room that takes us to a different place. Denis Villeneuve’s masterful follow up is one of the most orgasmic cinematic experiences I have witnessed in the last ten years that demands a re-screening in 2022 when theatres reopen at an entirely safe capacity. The style doesn’t overshadow its substance, which is far richer in detail than the original without grasping at blatant metaphors. “Blade Runner 2049” is slow cinema at its finest, letting us into the character’s heads, knowing when to be quiet and when to be loud.

Like “The Empire Strikes Back,” not everyone appreciated the movie at first. Time has been incredibly kind to it, though. I wish the Academy recognized “Blade Runner 2049” beyond its technical marvels in 2018. I suppose it wasn’t the type of picture that catches Oscar voter’s eyes. But it has acquired the audience’s to this day. Now, if you could just look up and to the left for me?

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[fuwafuwamedb]

A Cursed G Pt 6 (Gilgamesh, Hakuno)

Previous Part: One - Haku POV / Gil POV, Two, Three, Four, Five

______

She’d had Emiya stay before once.

It’d been during a late study session, when the others of their study group had left for the night and the snow had begun to pile up. Rin had left first, telling them that she was tired. Rani had complained that there was no point in staying since Rin wasn’t there. Sakura had chased after Rin. And then Emiya? By the time it was time for him to leave, she’d taken one look outside and known that he wouldn’t be able to get home.

She’d curled up in bed, leaving a wide space for Emiya to join her.

They’d slept on opposite sides of this very bed, ending up in the morning with her hair in his face and his hand on her chest.

She’d slept easy with him though.

No hyperfocus, no strange case of insomnia and fatigue going on; just the bliss of setting her head to the pillows and letting the night sweep her away to her dreams.

It hadn’t been like this.

Hakuno didn’t dare open her eyes as they laid in bed together.

She didn’t dare to speak.

The moment her heart rate had calmed and she had gained a modicum of control over herself, the other had moved. She could feel his hands brushing at her hair, holding her against his chest. She could feel him move his hand to her face, brushing a hand along her cheek.

Moments seemed to pass like hours.

Seconds were like years in between them.

Each inch of her skin seemed to have become overwhelmed with nerves, making her notice every single inch of him that was lying in her bed. His warmth was like that of the sun, radiating warmth through her. With him there, she was without the usual desire to get another blanket. She was melting away in bed, touched with a soft caress that had her insides turning to mush.

Gilgamesh just continued to touch her face and her hair.

He continued to hold her in his arms. For some reason, it was unlike any other feeling she had ever felt in her life. It was like…

The only thing she could compare it to was Rin marveling at a new piece of jewelry.

That was exactly what it was like.

Rin would normally run her hands over the gemstone, murmuring softly to the glittering piece of art. Her hold of the newly acquired piece would be so careful, so particular; she would turn down anyone that would want to hold it.

If it was suitable enough, she would wrap the piece in a thick layer of fabrics, tucking it away in the depths of her purse for protection.

Gems always hold flaws, she’d told her once. I look for these flaws because they give value to the piece. The fewer flaws, the more perfect the gem is, the less interesting it is.

What did Gilgamesh see when he studied her?

Opening her eyes would have told her more about what was on the other’s mind, but she didn’t dare to do something like that.

She was already feeling warm from the closeness.

The moment his lips pressed to her forehead, she had to fight the urge to look at him even more. She had to stop herself from revealing that she had been awake to notice his affection.

Admitting that felt like it would break whatever spell was happening here.

It felt like it would make him pull back.

And, for some reason, it felt wrong to ruin this. As much as she wanted to rest, she didn’t want to move away from this man.

So she remained in his arms, surrendering herself to this.

The moments continued to pass in the slowest pace possible. Her face soon resting against his chest once again.

Her whole body seemed to simply feel warm, buzzing with more and more energy as the time came and went. Solid arms were around her sides. A pair of legs were tangled with her own, bringing them only that much closer to one another.

It was unfair to compare this to when she had let Emiya stay the night with her.

It was unfair in that Emiya had never been like this. He’d never held her like this. Even when he had been around her all those times, even when they had stayed up late and she’d started to fall asleep; he’d never held her like this man held her. She’d never been held like the world would crumble away. Like she would vanish the moment that she was released.

Her hand needed to move.

Whether she realized what she was doing or just impulsively did it; Hakuno moved her hand, pressing it to the man’s chest.

A hand was moving to cover it. She could feel it pulled up to his face, pressed to a pair of lips that she had felt before.

Sleep.

Hakuno cuddled closer and demanded the rest of herself mentally.

She had no choice.

Hours were passing. The time with him as a human were slipping away from them both, never to be reclaimed. He seemed content to remain awake with her. There was nothing else he seemed to do other than hold her to himself and let the night come and go.

She could sense the morning when it began to come.

Her eyes opened, finally unable to keep them closed a moment longer.

The king’s own were closed now, his hand lost in the tresses of her hair. The serious expressions and the frown had lessened, his face almost taking on a boyish charm to it with his bangs in the way.

He was something else.

Stressful came to mind.

Stubborn and talented at saying exactly the words to make someone respond actively to him; Gilgamesh had a knack for throwing her world out of whack.

Thinking that she had just been talking to a regular cat had been worse though.

At least this way, she wasn’t insane. She was the victim of strange and unusual circumstances. She just happened to be saddled through fate with a cat who was actually an ancient king.

It made her wonder bitterly how many of those novels she’d read before with time travel were actually true.

The thick lashes of his fluttered, parting to show his eyes.

Gilgamesh turned his head, sleepily glancing her way and giving a great yawn.

“Good morning.”

His hand tightened in her hair, pulling her in close. His lips moved against her own, rotating them both so that he could be above her.

This was indeed a morning.

A very different one, she thought as she felt her eyes close and her body seem to shape straight to the king’s own. She could feel his mouth moving on its own, teasing her with the lack of deepening the kiss.

The sun was streaming into the room through the curtains.

“I will become human again in a month, correct?”

Hakuno had to remind herself to open her eyes. Her gaze looked up at Gilgamesh to find him waiting for her answer.

“You’ll be human again in a month,” she assured him.

“There are things that I need you to procure for me before then.”

Things?

“The sun is coming too quickly,” he cursed. “We will need to use your written texts to understand what we need of one another.”

“Gil-“

He grinned, crouched over her on the bed with his hair disheveled.

“Soon enough,” he told her. “I will allow accolade for estimating my arrival back to my human self. Once you realize what capabilities you seem to have, we shall discuss further plans. Do not wait on procuring the items I recommend.”

The light hit him.

The golden fluff was back, plopping onto her chest and curling up there.

He was back.

G yawned slightly, curling up into a ball and nuzzling against her. She could feel the light continue to creep into the room, but that wasn’t going to do.

Crossing the room, she closed the blinds and pulled the curtains shut. Her body hit the bed again and that was going to be that.

Later, she could consider what she could do to help Gilgamesh.

Later, she could apologize to Emiya and make it up to him.

G was scooting closer, his head ducking under her chin. The cat kicked up a gentle purr, the sound seeming to work like white noise in the background as she closed her eyes again.

Staying up all night in Gilgamesh’s arms had been a bad plan.

So had letting Gilgamesh into her bed to begin with.

It was too late to fight that though.

A thought drifted through her head as she let her eyes closed and her hands wrap around G once again: Despite feeling tired, she felt good.

No aches, no pains; she just felt whole.

The world felt right all around her.

You must be magic, Gil, she thought.

Why else would she feel like she was in heaven?

[paging-dr-bowen]

Tips for Interview Season

Congratulations on your invitation to interview at the residency programs of your dreams! The time period between submitting your ERAS and awaiting your first invitation to interview is nerve wrecking.  You might get bombarded with a couple rejection letters in the first few days (some programs even make errors by sending their rejection letters 3-4 times…like okay okay I get it it’s not you…it’s me…haha but don’t get discouraged your perfect match is still out there).  But what do you do before this time period? Here are some tips below:

1. ERAS photo – This is most likely your first business headshot ever. Or at least it was for me. Go to a photo studio like J.C. Penny (they have affordable Group On deals for $20 and under for a couple headshots) or grab a friend with a decent camera and some good lighting. Photo should show a welcoming smile (this is not a mugshot or a passport photo).  Attire should be simple, no distracting patterns or jewelry.  Think grays, blues, blacks, and calm pastels.  For men I’ve noticed a tie is a must. For women a blouse or a button up is fine, no cleavage.  Wear your hair how you will wear it during interviews because they will use the photo to reference you. Hair up or down is fine just keep it neat. I wore my hair in braids/twists and wore it loose and to the side.  Background of the photo should be a neutral color, try to avoid white. 2. Interview attire – Focusing on the ladies for this one, fellas interview attire is pretty standard across the board (business suit and business shoes). Aim to get about 3 outfits to cycle between especially for those weeks you have multiple interviews.  Pants suits and skirt suits or a dress and a blazer are the go-to outfits.  If opting for a dress or skirt length should at least be to the knees when sitting and wear nude/black stockings. Colors you should aim for a navy blue, gray, black and I even saw a candidate in a really nice forest green pant suit.  The idea is to get neutral colors and offset it with a nice pop of color that isn’t too distracting.  Limit the jewelry to simple pieces (stud earring and a simple necklace is fine, avoid bangles and bracelets that make noise).  Comfortable shoes are a must, I bought a 1.5inch closed toed-pumps and half way through interview season I resorted to just wearing my business everyday flats I wear on my clinical rotations from Clarks (got a lot of compliments too…I’m just like this old thang?). Just like your ERAS photo, wear your hair up or down is fine, just keep it neat.  Nice companies to buy clothing from are Ann Taylor Loft, Express, Banana Republic, Macy’s, Gap etc. You can bring a leather portfolio or a simple black leather tote (small to medium) to store a note pad, pen and a bottle of water and any other essentials like your wallet. For outerwear, a nice pea coat or trench coat pairs well with business attire.  Don’t over think it, most of the program directors I encountered have said they don’t really care about your attire so don’t break the bank on your medical school income (non-existent) but just put yourself together nicely.

3. Work on your elevator pitch. School?  Hometown? What is your passion within medicine? Why do you want the field you’re applying to? What are you looking for in a residency program (all the curriculums look generally the same due to AAMC requirements but what additional factors are important to you – is it location? Close to home? On-call hours? Specific elective opportunities? Why would they want you? Having a concise statement to answer all of these questions in a minute or less in a way that doesn’t sound scripted will prepare you for interviews as well as networking opportunities outside of your interviews. 4. Homework to do before your interview: Know the resident profiles of the residency – read about their values, experiences and interests to see how you’d fit in.  Re-read your personal statement if it might have been a while since you read it.  Re-read your CV you submitted on ERAS to make sure you remember every activity or research you inclluded in case it is a conversation piece. Do some research on the faculty and the program director that will be interviewing you (think of it as the equivalence to some light facebook stalking…you wouldn’t reiterate all their accolades but it’s nice to know to causally drop in a conversation when you have nothing to talk about so you can get them talking about theirselves) 5. What do they ask you on interviews? Anything …really. The most common questions I was asked in every interview were: Tell me about yourself. Why do you want to be a ____doctor? Why our program? What are your strengths and weaknesses? What are your career plans for after residency?  Beyond these questions it was really casual conversation.  The number one question you are guaranteed to be asked a million times are: Do YoU hAvE aNy QuEsTiOnS fOr Me? …you might want to say no but please don’t.  Before your interview you should review the program’s website and make note of things you’d like to ask questions about.  If you think you know there is everything to know about this program you can restate facts about the program you love and ask them to elaborate further or just simply try your best to form a question…it shows interest (they say it’s okay if you don’t have any but please try to have 1 or 2).  You are interviewing them just as much as they are interviewing you. 6. How will your interview day be structured? Most programs send you an itinerary the week or a few days before the interview telling you how long each portion is and with whom.  If they don’t, you can request it politely but you still might not get it until the day of the interview (which sucks because you can’t do your research on your interviewers but it’s okay). On average interviews can range from 15minutes-30 minutes per interview and you can get anywhere from 3-5 or more of those per day.  Interview day is long but you will get used to it. At some point there will be a tour of the hospital given by a resident (this is where comfy shoes come in handy).  After a while you’ll be over seeing another hospital because let’s be honest every ICU looks the same for the most part but your job is to stay tuned in and again…ask questions because the hospital tour is an interview just like everything else during the day.  Be friendly and get to know the other candidates, you might make friendships that last beyond interview day and who knows you might end up at the same program.  The programs are also taking note of how you interact with people and whether or not you’re a good fit for their program. 7. So its October/November and I still haven’t heard from the program of my dreams rejecting me or inviting me to an interview. Or maybe I haven’t heard from any programs at all? Here’s where a polite letter of intent comes in handy. Some programs use filters to help them sift through the thousands of applications they get. You might have been lost by the filter. Send a letter of intent and make it as personalized as possible to the programs you haven’t heard from stating why you think you’d be a great fit for their program and what you love about their program and if they would review your application for an interview.  Late November, I haven’t heard back from one of the programs I desired and I sent them an email and was offered an interview a few days later. So I can say it definitely is worth doing. 8. Expenses.  Interview season is expensive. You may need to take out extra in your student loans than you do usually. Things that will cost you extra money are the ERAS application fee which increases the more programs you apply to, gas for your car for interviews you drive to,  Uber/Lyft or other rideshare, air fare for interviews you may have to fly to, hotels for overnight stays that aren’t covered by the residency program (I lucked out because Family Medicine programs on average love to wine and dine us and reserved nice hotels for me to stay in free of charge ).  My entire interview season costed me about $6,000.  The AAMC estimates that for students the range is anywhere from $3,000-$7,000.  It varies depending on how many interviews are local or how many programs you applied to.  Sooo much money I know…but if it makes you feel better you get free lunch on interview day and even a three course dinner if you opt to go to the “optional” pre-interview social the night before (Take advantage). You might also be visiting a new town or city, if you can explore the area a bit before going home it’s a nice mini trip and way to see if you could imagine yourself living there for the next 3+ years. 9. Pre-interview dinner – is it optional? It is but if you can go, I’d say go.  It’s a nice chance to get to know some of the residents outside of work without the faculty around. You also get to eat like a king on someone else’s dime. They won’t scrutinize you for not going but it does look nice if you went. If you do go, don’t just sit there and eat, please be social because although the residents say its casual…your impressions do matter. 10. Cancelling interviews. If you have been blessed with a decent amount of interviews and you can confidently say you are at a comfortable amount with all the programs you desire going to scheduled then by all means cancel.  Cancel as early as you can so it leaves room for other applicants who may have wanted to interview there to accept the offer.  Generally, 1 week to a month in advance is preferred.  Be polite when doing so because it does reflect on your school. 10 interviews scheduled is the average comfort zone (so they say).  I was paranoid and went on way more interviews beyond that because I wanted to be sure of my choice in the end.  I’m happy I did that because if I were to cancel interviews without going to see the program in person I’m sure I’d miss out.  On that same note, don’t be afraid to reject interview offers from places you know you absolutely would not want to end up (this may happen if you applied broadly just to have some options) – only do this if you have a decent amount of interviews scheduled. 11. What do I do after interview day? Most programs will say do not reach out with a thank you note. If they don’t say this you are free to send a thank you note if you wish. I did not send any thank you notes and I don’t believe it negatively affected me.  Interview season is very busy for the program coordinators scheduling interviews…they don’t need to read my generic thank you note/email that I will be sending to every program.  However, if I did have a question that wasn’t answered on interview day I would go ahead and reach out. 12. How do I make my Rank Order List? Only rank programs you interviewed at because only those programs have a chance at ranking you.  Only rank programs you would like to end up at. Rank them in the order of YOUR preference not how you think they might like you.  Go with your gut. I advise you send  a letter of intent as you make your Rank List to the program directors of perhaps your top 5 programs.  I sent a letter to my number one program telling them I will be ranking them number 1.  To programs #2-5 I told them I was ranking them highly.  You might not get any response (that’s okay), Match rules say programs can’t tell you they’re ranking you and they can’t ask you if you’re ranking them but there aren’t any rules against you volunteering the information.  Be careful of wording, I would NOT tell my number 2 program that I am ranking them number 2 (no one wants to hear that).  Make sure to tell them what you love about their program as well and why you’d be a great fit. 13. How will I know if I will match? You don’t. You may have feelings. Programs might tell you they think you’d be a great fit. You might get a post card or a letter from programs or a phone call follow up. They might hint and nudge and wink at you. With all this being said…you still don’t know for sure what the outcome of Match Day will be.  All you can do is hope, pray and have faith that the feelings you got from those interactions are genuine.

[anewkaiju]

Top Chef Los Angeles Recap: Episode 1

These are strange times. There has always been an element of the unknown to our day-to-day, but typically it's only ever discussed or thought about in terms of limitless potential and never-ending, never-ceasing possibility. Of course, there's also always been a flip side to that element of unknown. You know it. The dread-inducing one. The one no one ever wants to bring up, delve into, wrestle with, or even talk about really. It's hard to say for sure, but that may be where we are now. Or maybe it isn't, and all will be well eventually. This shit is so strange and is going to take time to figure out, but we all have to figure it out and our best chance at figuring it out is considering our community and working together. So, we got that going for us.

These are also strange times that require certain measures to be taken to keep everything hammered down and in place. Put another way, a little TV is needed in order to provide some sort of sense of stability. Put yet another way, it'll help keep shit together. Which is how, we have ended up here. For reasons that are not entirely clear to me (yet) an idea formed in front of me that this latest season of Top Chef (the 17th one) needs to be written about. So, here we are.

The first thing to note about the new season of Top Chef is that it is an All-Star season, which just means that these are all contestants who have been on the show before and have now been invited back. This raises immediate questions in my mind concerning how one becomes a Top Chef All-Star. On what basis exactly is a chef measured to make this sort of call? This doesn't feel like something we can compare to the NBA's All-Star selection process. There, they have the fans for the starters and then league coaches and members of the press vote for the reserves. So, with this cast, are we supposed to believe these are fan favorites or have these chefs been chosen because the people who watch food most closely believe them to be the best? Little of both?

One of the other things about Top Chef and watching Top Chef, at least for me, is that maybe that stuff doesn't matter. You could try to handicap this show and identify the frontrunner and the number one contender and track everyone's progress through that lens, but that grows old eventually. In my mind, the show is at its best when someone is dialed in and making what feels like the best food they've ever made in their entire life. A lot of the time this individual making what feels like the best food they've ever made is painted as the underdog, and that's fine. Watching an underdog zig and zag their way through a competition, defy the odds and then take the title makes for pretty good entertainment. It's also one of those things where there's a lot of talk about James Beard nominations and "features in Food & Wine magazine" and it all sounds really impressive, but what do those accolades actually mean, and more importantly for our purposes, what do those accolades mean for TV? Where's your resume when you're cooking in the snow on the side of a mountain? Also, what does pedigree matter when so often on this show the judges slam someone for cutting corners or ignoring fundamentals? It's also important to note that I know almost nothing about food aside from what I have discerned from watching this show.

How food is thought about and talked about on TV and the internet has changed considerably over the last few years. In the early to mid 2000s, 'good cooking' was more often than not presented and defined as all about splashy presentation, style and a million other things going on at once. The term "celebrity chef" originated around this time to describe someone who is now famous because they cook. Your signature could just be a wild looking plate. This isn't meant to put down food artists, but perhaps some passes were given that shouldn't have been. It's like if you could talk it up enough and find the right wrapping for it then, magically, no questions are asked and what you are putting out into the world doesn't have to be fact or quality checked. This all works on the timeline too as this was also a period in history were there lots of bad rappers at the top (50 Cent, Ja Rule, etc) and the NBA was mired in this weird post-Jordan funk.

It's almost as if things had to pivot back in on itself. These days, simplicity is celebrated. Or maybe it has always been essential and I am just dumb. Either way, let's call this foggy idea the Chef's Table Effect. Now, with chefs, you want to know about their approach to food and what their mindset is like. We want to know how they look at food and how they get it. We want to learn about real, living, breathing chefs and not just be told about someone who is now famous because they cook. In early seasons of Top Chef, there were more personalties, people who just wanted to rub elbows with celebrities and put their names on restaurants. Over time, that has subsided some and when it does happen it comes across as much more transparent. The good chefs emerge no matter what. Their personalties reveal themselves in their own time (call this the Kawhi effect if you must,) and because they are making 'good' food it's all that much more enjoyable/rewarding to watch. We are in this time where food is considered in more serious terms, and as a result, we get more grounded, thoughtful food TV programming. I like to think of it as more of an actual uprising. Everyone collectively all at once had one too many exploding shrimp cocktails bathed in brandy and bedded in dry ice and began asking questions about what we are doing here exactly. With that in mind,

The episode itself was fairly straight-forward. The chefs show up. They are asked to do a mise en place, which is like a prep work drill essentially but since this is a competition show there's a real emphasis on speed and accuracy. There were artichokes, oranges and almonds, and it was explained, that the first five chefs to break down their artichokes would form a team and be allowed to leave for a kitchen right away. When this happens, all remaining chefs would stop with whatever artichoke business they may have left and shift their attention to the oranges. Once five chefs had handled their oranges sufficiently they would then become the second team and then be allowed to head for the kitchen. Everyone left with the almonds would take on the mantle of the third team, and be allowed to move to the kitchen once they were all finished. This opening challenge served mostly as a shakeout session to get things moving and for viewers at home to see if anyone is trying out a new style, whether it be a cooking flourish or a new haircut.

After the mad dash mise en place, the chefs are once again sorted into teams, although, this time around, they go into five teams of three as opposed to three teams of five. For the main challenge of this episode, each team has been asked to make a cohesive, family-style seafood meal over a single open flame and an open flame only for a table of esteemed, established chefs and cuisine writers.  

here is what they presented:

Melissa: Grilled Swordfish with hot & sour sauce, ember grilled radicchio and fresno chiles

Karen: Grilled scallops, gingered plums, nuoc cham and nappa cabbage slaw

Angelo: West coast oyster with smoked bacon rice porridge

Bryan: Sea urchin, spot prawns with hibiscus ponzu and burnt avocado

Joe: Sesame and semolina flatbread with clams, fried garlic, sea urchin, pickled peppers and miso parmesan aioli

Lee Anne: Shoyu Tare Glazed Halibut with charred sweet corn and cabbage, sea urchin and uni miso beurre blanc

Gregory: Charred salmon with grilled peaches and roasted chili dressing

Jamie: Steamed mussels with ember scaled cream and toasted bread

Stephanie: Brined prawn with charred tomato sauce and roasted corn dressing

Jennifer: Spiced tuna loin over grilled kale with red pepper tahini sauce

Nini: Grilled scallops, carrots, tomatoes with charred brussels sprout & fennel salad

Kevin: Eye of swordfish braised in chorizo with coal-roasted onion, olives and peas

Lisa: Charred shrimp and scallop ceviche with candied squash, mushrooms and avocado

Bryan V.: Sablefish with corn porridge and charred leeks

Eric: Chesapeake boil with grilled prawn

It's striking looking at all of these dishes written out. Granted, this is being written from a position of hindsight, but it's so clear which dishes were a hit and which were not. Again, I'm not very bright so this isn't a food know-how thing. It's just a words thing. The most composed, concise dishes were the ones that elicited acclaim. This should maybe be a working rule. If the description of your dish runs over a line long, then you might be in trouble. (You might be looking at Lisa's dish and noticing that it runs over, but it's just barely. She's a great chef who is being oddly slept-on already. She went all the way to the final in her season and has a very no nonsense, quiet drive.)

Anyway, the judges loved Gregory, Jamie and Stephanie's meal with Gregory taking the overall win. Joe, Lee Anne and Bryan had far and away the least liked dish. The challenge called for a family-style meal, indicating that everything will end up on the same plate, so the two sauces made that one flatbread mad soggy. Joe went home for it. (Lee Anne ran into some issues on the grill, but these things happen and Padma said there was a lot to like about her dish. Lee Anne was also on the very first season of Top Chef and the last time anyone saw her was a few seasons back when she surprise-returned. In that episode, the challenge was to cook over an open flame in four feet of snow on the side of a Colorado mountain. Lee Anne was four months pregnant. After she knocked out her dish, she seemingly achieved clarity and announced to everyone that she was going home to prepare for the birth of her child.)

For whatever reason, it tends to take a few episodes before the show really starts moving. There will probably be a few more wild-sounding challenges under even more wild-sounding circumstances. Based off of the "this season on Top Chef" tease shown at the end of the episode, the competitors visit at least one museum and at least one stadium. The official title of this season is Top Chef: Los Angeles which would suggest that everything will be contained to the city of Los Angeles as opposed to the entire state.

There was also a moment in the tease where actor Danny Trejo, star of Machete, Machete Kills and the forever-stuck-in-development Machete In Space, can clearly be seen visiting the Top Chef kitchen which is wildly encouraging.

[music2liveby]

DAY 217: Ball and Biscuit by The White Stripes

Album: Elephant Release: April 1st, 2003 Genre: Blues Rock

Metropolitan area music scenes allow a great platform for musicians to cultivate hot spots of talent that reflect upon both the history and the culture of the respective area. Cities like Nashville, Tennessee and Austin, Texas have attempted to capitalize off their famous music scenes, going as far as accepting the title of the music city. Personally, if your city has a particularly special music scene, then you don’t need any title to back it up. For instance, the city of Detroit has been an epicenter across the history of music, home of Motown and rich in its blues roots. Detroit’s musical accolades are nothing to ignore, but they are not highly touted by the city itself. Among these prominent acts, one Detroit band that is often overlooked in much of the same way as they are in their respective genre are The White Stripes. I highly doubt I could pull someone from off the street, bring up the White Stripes, and be told, “They’re one of the all-time greats!”. If anything, I would bet most throw The White Stripes in the same category as other popular post-grunge alternative bands from the mid 90′s into the 2000′s. However, I would argue that The White Stripes deserve to not just be in the conversation of one of the greatest duos of all time, but be one of the first mentioned in that conversation. The first half of this duo, Meg White, worked at a local restaurant in Detroit called Memphis Smoke. She was a shy and reserved girl who decided to work instead of going to college, and eventually through her work met high school senior Jack Gillis. He would visit the Memphis Smoke during open mic nights and read his poetry, an early glimpse at Jack’s prolific songwriting abilities. The pair befriended and developed their relationship through to their marriage on September 21st, 1996, where Jack took Meg’s surname contrary to common practice. Jack was performing with numerous bands in the Detroit music scene, although none of these endeavors took off. It was when Meg began picking up the drums nearly a year after their marriage that Jack felt a spark of inspiration he’d not yet felt until then. He recalls of the instance, “When she started to play drums with me, just on a lark, it felt liberating and refreshing. There was something in it that opened me up." The two coined the band name The White Stripes with obvious nod to their shared surname, but also subtly to Meg’s obsession with peppermint candies. This obsession went as far as establishing a color aesthetic of black, white, and red that held constant throughout every studio release and single (except for a single Christmas release that included a splash of green). The two were very secretive about their relationship and reestablished their identity as brother and sister. According to Jack, this choice was made to keep the focus of The White Stripes on the music, not the musicians. He remarked, "When you see a band that is two pieces, husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, you think, 'Oh, I see...' When they're brother and sister, you go, 'Oh, that's interesting.' You care more about the music, not the relationship—whether they're trying to save their relationship by being in a band." Ultimately, the pair would split romantically in March of 2000, but professionally pressed on in their musical endeavor. Sure enough, their divorce would come right before their rise to international fame with the release of their second album De Stijl. The composition of an average White Stripes album consists of Detroit-inspired blues in a garage rock style package with the occasional acoustic ballad thrown in for good measure, the former relying on the minimalism of Meg’s drumming combined with the gifted mind of Jack. Some critics consider her informal drum training a hindrance, but I prefer to view it as the maximum utilization of the tools you have to work with. That prospect very much embodied the sound of the duo’s smash hit release Elephant, which includes the anthem Seven Nation Army. However, Elephant has so much more to offer than its opening track, including today’s sludgy blues rock odyssey Ball and Biscuit. The longest track ever recorded by The White Stripes, this song lures the listener in with a steady blues riff that receives a boost from the gentle drumming of Meg White while Jack rambles on about the prospect of a drug-fueled relationship with the hypothetical female character in Ball and Biscuit. It soon after delivers the haymaker of clashing cymbals and a squealing guitar solo that peaks and falls multiple times throughout the seven minute spectacle. A large part of what works with The White Stripes as far as their simplicity is their choice in genre; blues music is not typically demanding of percussion. The talent of Jack White to build around a solid foundation and develop something enjoyable without being too musically complex is admirable and is a large part of the reason The White Stripes have only gotten more and more popular since the two called it quits in 2011. However, Jack White only continues to impress at only 44 years old with various musical projects including his own solo act. This post got a little longer than I anticipated, but my case for The White Stripes’ place towards the top of music’s greats is strong and can’t be held by the bounds of traditional formatting!

[chwrpg]

ARDEN ATKINS. college sophomore; nineteen. sydney sweeney. TAKEN.

and, as amber atkins once said:

“Oh my God! Jesus Christ on a cross! Look, number one rule in a funeral home: never sneak up on the living. You never know who might have an enbalming needle or a skull saw in their hand. Mr. Larson’s son learned the hard way. He’s buried next to my grandpa.”

BEFORE THE PARTY;

At the age of nineteen, Arden has already achieved more than what most would have throughout their entire academic career. She’s always been a go-getter, possessing a dire need to propel herself forward in life in spite of the circumstances she’s been stuck with. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks meant things never came easy, and the instability of her home life only ever seemed to add fuel to the fire. But rather than let it get her down, Arden continued to prosper, her home life and upbringing only making her work that much harder towards a better and brighter future. Even something as crushing as her parents split wouldn’t define how she felt towards life, and she refused to let a relationship filled with so much toxicity get the better of her, especially now that it was over.

Luckily, she’d had more of a say in the matter than most children did at her age. Once her father left, she was given a choice – stay in contact with him, or ditch him entirely along with the rest of her family. Arden chose the latter, feeling as though he didn’t deserve to have her in his life after the way he’d gone out. Her dad been a heavy drinker and gambler, blowing their money on odds that were never in his favor and coming home night after night smelling like cheap vodka and gin. It was only a matter of time before her mother followed suit, and more often than not she was following him around like a lost puppy, encouraging his conquests and going along for the ride as if she actually wanted to. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother stepping in when she had, the family would have lost more than just their house to his gambling. They would have lost Arden too.

Consequently, Arden’s father moved across country, leaving behind all of his bad habits for her mother to eventually outgrow with the help of Arden and her grandmother. Slowly but surely, they picked up the pieces, each getting jobs to compensate for everything they’d lost in his drunken endeavors and moving into a trailer big enough to hold the three of them. It didn’t seem like a lot, and it certainly wasn’t as much as they’d had before, but Arden could be happy so long as they were all together. In fact, she made sure she was.

Whether she cared to admit it or not, a lot of her determination stemmed from her father’s absence. Coming from nothing meant she wanted to be everything, and that was exactly why she picked up as many extracurricular activities as she did. Her GPA stayed at an impressive 4.0, and her list of accolades grew with each school year that passed. It was only a matter of time before she added beauty pageants into the mix as well, her curiosity getting the best of her when she just so happened to be handed a flyer for a local competition while she was at school.

Had the idea not fallen into her lap, Arden would have never given pageantry a chance. The idea of standing in front of a crowd wearing a dress that cost more than she earned at Mallrats and reciting answers like she was reading from a book all seemed nauseating to the girl. But when the opportunity presented itself, she couldn’t quite help but take it, no matter how out of character it was for her.

Surprisingly, the pageant world wasn’t nearly as daunting as she’d thought it would be. If anything, it was a land of opportunity for someone who wanted to take steps forward in their professional life, and not just some superficial show put on for the sake of exploiting women. Networking and meeting people all seemed to be a part of the job, and Arden didn’t mind using that to her advantage if it meant getting her name out there. People like Diane Sawyer and Oprah Winfrey had done exactly that, and those were exactly the kind of women she aspired to be. Journalism had always been her career of choice, and if she wanted to carry on to writing professionally one day, she needed to make an active effort to do so.

But it just so happened that she excelled at it, too. Where she lacked in expensive gowns and jewels, she made up for in the talent portions and the Q and A’s. Her reputation in the pageant community quickly became sterling, and it only took her a couple of pageants in practice before she was winning every title she went for. Most girls spent their entire lives preparing for the stage, but the star quality that came with being a beauty queen just happened to come naturally to Arden, as if she had been put on earth to do exactly that. It was thrilling to say the least, and despite her lack of effort, Arden enjoyed every second of it.

But with all success comes a certain degree of jealousy, and it was only natural for Arden to turn a couple of heads with each title she earned. How did the poor, dorky girl manage to steal every one of their crowns anyways? Saying it was unfair to her competitors would have been the understatement of the century, and it wasn’t until she beat out Beverly in a Miss Rosewood pageant that her greatness was truly realized.

From that moment on, she made herself a powerful enemy. One that would ensure that she never won again. Arden might not have seen the cutthroat, gory parts of the pageant world yet, but Beverly and her friends were more than willing to show her.

May the best beauty queen win.

DURING THE PARTY;

Arden had initially planned on staying in on the night of the party. With the Miss Chicago pageant looming, it only seemed right that she dedicate her spare time to working on her finale gown, ensuring that every little detail of it was preened to perfection. But after receiving a text from Luna, Arden felt compelled to make an appearance, if just to give the girl a quick hello and acknowledge the fact that she’d invited her at all. Arden had always gotten the distinct impression that she and the rest of her friends didn’t like her, so the fact that they’d extended the hand to her was as amazing as it was astonishing.

She hadn’t been at the party for five minutes before Rosie was shoving a red cup in her face and pulling her towards the bar, the other girls waiting there for her with shots in hand and smiles reaching up to their ears. Arden typically didn’t drink, but they were insistent that she break out of her shell for the night and have a good time with them now that she was finally a part of their group. So despite her morals, she went along with it, taking any and all drinks they threw at her and not stopping until she the three of them disappeared into the crowd, leaving Arden all by her lonesome. She wasn’t sure where they’d gone, but by that point she was too far gone to care, so she made a mental note to text Luna about it in the morning and headed home.  

The rest of the night seemed to happen in a flash. The home she came back to wasn’t at all like the one she had left. Fireman, police officers, and onlooking neighbors flooded the surrounding area, each one of them in a state of panic as a result of the scene before them. It was her trailer up in flames, smoke radiating off of its surfaces as the firefighters worked helplessly to try and extinguish it. Then, out of the corner of her eye, was her mom being carried out on a stretcher, her body laced with equal amounts of burn marks and ash.

Amongst the chaos, Arden could only wonder: How on earth did this happen?

alternate faceclaims and prompts.

[wesker20]

Fallen Hero 1.5 Episode 7: Memories of a Deadman

Years ago, Night – Amelia Neighborhood – Puerto Rico

There was little you could have done different. In fact, there was nothing you could have done differently. Your plan was ready and able, Zeta was on a roof overlooking the neighborhood, Alpha was on the back of the house, and Kappa and you were inside sneaking in. Kappa turned invisible as always, while you began sending small telepathic waves that made the goons not notice you. Everything was going fine until you heard gun shots and shouting.

The place turned into chaos, Kappa and you were left staring at one another wondering what the hell had just happened. Not that your confusion lasted long of course as Zeta contacted all three of you and let you know that Delta had begun his attack. Way earlier than he told you. The worst part was that you knew that Delta was not smart enough to lie, which meant he just received orders to attack sooner; probably General Asshole. The attack forced you and Kappa to move fast, getting in before Jeremy could escape. Kappa, of course, went faster. You had forgotten how fast she could move. Even with his teleportation, Zeta could not keep up with how fast she reacted. Between the two of you, you left a trail of bodies behind as you made your way to the bedroom as fast as you could.

By the time you reached the room, however, the bed has been moved and the secret tunnel opened. Kappa and you rushed into it where a big fight began. It was chaotic to say the least, cramped into a small tunnel with dozens of goons standing between you and your target; and all wanted you both dead. In this field of battle, Kappa shined. With her speed and invisibility, she sliced and diced with her sword, cutting down her opponents with no trouble, dancing in between their attacks, tricking them into hitting each other, cutting open their necks and stomachs, painting the tunnel red with blood. By the end of it, a dozen goons laid dead atop of each other, her sole blue figure standing among them victorious, and your target just some meters away, stunned. He tried one last ditch effort to defend himself, shooting a blast from a strange weapon you did not recognized. Kappa dodged effortlessly but you did not fared as well, taking the brunt of the blast. You were surprised to find yourself relatively unharmed, physically anyway. Mentally speaking, you had the biggest headache in the world. And you could not feel any thoughts at all. Not Kappa’s, or Jeremy’s, or even Alpha’s as you finally noticed her standing beside you, worry written all over her face.

You were later informed that the weapon temporarily disabled your abilities. That was just the prototype. The “Guardianes” were planning to mass produce this. You wondered where they got this type of tech but that’s for your owners to figure out. You did your job, as good as could be done given the circumstances. The battle had attracted the attention of neighbors and soon probably the media. You’ve already been cleared and ready and you can feel your powers slowly coming back. You stare at the barricade made of cars and trucks, where people stand wondering what just happened. Zeta, Alpha and you stood in the open, your gear covering all of your bodies so no one could tell what you were. But Kappa was inside a truck and covered to make sure no one saw her skin. Too public. The higher ups were not going to be happy about this.

And of course the general was the first one who’s voice you heard. But before he could approach you Mrs. Trevor stood in front of him. You could not hear what they were saying but you could tell they were arguing. Trevor turned and made a motion for Alpha to come. You followed her too, curious to see what was going to happen.

“Unit Alpha 203 report,” he said with an accusatory tone, as if he expected her to deliver all the evidence he needed. Alpha reported everything that happened, taking extra care to make sure Delta was the one that carried the blame, and in turn whoever ordered him to attack earlier. It took all of your strength that day to hold back a grin. “Unit Alpha, if I find out you are reporting wrong-” he begins but Trevor stops him from saying anything further. You and Alpha traded glances; you were not the only one holding back a grin.

Unsatisfied but defeated the good General turns to walk away. But he leaves with a warning, “The cuckoos program is a danger General. It is unwise to teach these weapons emotions and have them live among people. One of these days I’ll prove it and take this whole farce down. When that happens you will fall with them.”

It was strange, you remember, to hear handler Trevor being addressed by her rank. To you she was always handler Trevor or Mrs. Trevor. You always wondered why, why she never asked you to address her as such. Truth is you never knew who Vanessa Trevor truly was. At the time you respected her, you looked up to her. She always protected all four of you.

Hideout, present – 8:30pm

But now you wonder if she ever did really cared or if she was simply manipulating all of you. Out of all the people in your past, she’s the only one you are not sure if you want to hurt. You stare at her picture on the file you paid a hacker to get. It was expensive; after all hacking into government files is the equivalent of putting your head on a guillotine, but you had to. There’s only one other person left alive from what happened all those years ago. It comes back to you, the blood, the screams, your screams, the fire surrounding you, Trevor aiming a gun at you before telling you to go and never come back. The look on her face, cold and calculating, but the tone of her voice betrayed some care, whether that was genuine or not you don’t know. At the time you did not thought of reading her mind.

You pass the page to see her accolades ever since. Despite what the General said, Vanessa Trevor did not fall, she rose. Despite the fall of your unit the Cuckoo program continued and she got promoted as one of those responsible for its success, even though she neither founded it nor was the head of it. You got to love politics. Overall she turned things around better than you did.

But you did not get this to reminisce of those times, when you were little more than a slave. You got this because one person from your past is after you, and you want to know what happened after you escaped. Still, your hand shakes as you hold your untraceable phone. You swore you would never visit those years again, that you would forget about it all, should you really go back now? It’s too early and you could probably take the voice down without knowing what happened. But you want to know, you need to know what happened. You know what probably happened, they were taken and tortured. “Reeducated” as they called it, their minds erased to make space for a new one. But after that, you don’t know. And why would you? You left, abandoned them, because you wanted something. Because you dared to wish.

Years ago, the Farm – 9:30pm

“What do you want, Jeremy?” Alpha asked as the two of you sat on the rooftop. You had snuck out, as you both did several times over and just stare outside in the night. Kappa always said that you were being too reckless and one day you will be caught. Still, she along with Zeta always took guard, and sometimes even joined you two. Despite the danger, you liked it, being here, outside of your four walls room, not being cramped with the other Re-genes. Alpha knew that, she knew you better than you knew yourself.

“Are you seriously going to keep going with that?” you asked. As much as you liked having a name, Alpha used it way too freely and too much for your liking. You have barely gotten used to it yourself, but she appears to have gotten used to it in mere seconds.

“Yep. That’s your name now, remember? And you did not answer my question.”

“Just being here, quiet. And not answering stupid questions.”

She looked at you and chuckled. “I meant out there. You clearly want something out there.”

You thought about her question for a few moments. What did you wanted? “Have you ever thought about all of this? About us? We constantly go out there and see how those people live, we are trained to feel how they feel and yet we are here and they are out there,” you told her. It was true. They trained you to read body language, relate to others, understand how a person feels, but to do so they had to teach you to feel it as well. It turns out you cannot make a good infiltrator that does not understand emotions. Otherwise they might as well send a regular Re-gene to do the job. But that training was a double edged sword, the more you felt, the more you wanted. You can’t just make someone feel and tell them they should ignore those feelings. And so you felt, and so did Alpha, and Zeta, and even Kappa. You felt, you cared, you loved.

“Sometimes,” Alpha finally answered after a minute. “Sometimes I want to run and see how everything is. But then I remember.”

You stared at her with curiosity. “Remember what?”

She turns back to you, the softest look you have ever seen on her face. “That you guys are here. No way would I leave without you guys.” You smiled back at her. Of course she wouldn’t. She would never abandon any of you, and whatever any of you wanted, she would try her hardest to get. Damn the consequences.

Present

You stare at the phone, Trevor’s number already dialed; all that is left is press green. Your breath slows down, your body freezes, a drop of sweat slides down you face, and your eyes twitch. Seconds turn into minutes, their faces flash on your mind, Alpha’s smiling and cheerful face, with a hint of strength hidden beneath, Kappa’s cold but soft stare, always hiding her emotions, and Zeta’s eyes avoiding yours, looking the other way, face on the verge of panicking but still smiling that timid smile. They all flash in your head, one after the other, memories of times long gone, times of fun and excitement. Times of sadness and despair, hugs long forgotten, cries long buried, kisses long erased, memories of a dead man.

“Yes?” her voice sounds on the other end, older, stronger.

“It’s been a while Mrs. Trevor.” The silence tells you that she recognizes your voice. Could she really remember it after all these years?

“I thought we would never speak again,” she says, her voice cold and professional, no hint of frustration or anger.

“So did I, but something came up.”

She snorts, almost as if expecting that response from you. “You want to meet, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“You are not afraid that I will set a trap and capture you again? I doubt you’ll escape a third time.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’m not?”

“I would tell you you’re a damn idiot, and learned nothing of what I taught you about trusting people,” she says with a hint of anger.

“I never said anything about trusting. I said I’m not afraid that you will set a trap. You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know?” she says, you hear water on the other end, probably from the sink.

“You win nothing.” Silence reigns for the next few seconds before she finally agrees. You agree on a meeting spot on a dock next week. Even if you know she will not set an ambush, you still decide to send your crew this week to scout out the area, just in case. In the meantime you decide to finish your “interrogation” of the man your crew brought. He knew quite a bit, you ripped out of his mind transactions made, to a Mr. Alex Moore. You checked him out but it turned out to be a bust, a fake person, a fake account. One of many. After all, money had to go somewhere, especially when you did mercenary work. That is why you could not find much about the Voice, they were a mystery, an assassin, hired only by the richest of the richest. Interesting. They took employment as an assassin in order to get the money they needed to pull off what they are doing now. You almost feel bad for not thinking about it yourself, definitely would have made it far easier to hire Mortum.

Admiration aside, The Voice made one mistake; they trusted this guy for one of their accounts; one that you just checked and to your pleasant surprise it was filled with enough money to keep you going for several months. That makes you wonder if the other suspects are also responsible for other accounts. But you doubt the Voice is just going to sit and watch as you steal their money. By this point the money must have been transferred to another account. But it doesn’t matter, you’ve scored a victory. Now all that is left is move to the next piece; The Army of Mastermind. And you have the perfect person in mind for the job.

Rangers HQ – Day

The fight between Argent, Mastermind and Red Doll plays out on the screen time and again. Argent watches with a frown, arms crossed, finger tapping her arm slowly after every move made in the fight. She turns away from it, disinterested already after hours of reviewing the footage. She stares out of the window, into the city. “Where the hell are you?” she whispers. She looks down and notices someone on the sidewalk, someone familiar. It’s one of Mastermind’s henchmen. She turns in a flash and heads out of the room and outside, ignoring everyone around her. As she arrives at the lobby she hears a familiar voice, it is that man, the one Ortega has a crush on, what was his name? It does not matter. She steps out of the HQ and across the street, but the henchman is not there.

She looks around, ignoring the people pointing at her and searches for him, until… there entering an alleyway. She sprints after him. This reeks of an ambush, she knows, so she takes careful but confident steps. She is surprised to see him just standing there the middle of the alley. “If this is supposed to be an ambush, you are doing a very poor job,” she says, but not to him. She expects to see Mastermind spring out from whenever they may be.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s just me,” he says, face still, no emotion.

“Your boss sends you… you, to fight me?” she scoffs and chuckles, at the same time.

“No. I’m here to give you something you might want to know.”

“And what is that?” she says, taking one step closer, her fingers twitching, itching to get its claws out.

“Bloodmoon Ave. 430.”

“What’s that?”

“You want to find out, go there,” he says, turns, and leaves. Argent lets him. He is inconsequential, not the one she wants. Is that where they will be? Mastermind? But if so, are they setting a trap? It’s way too obvious though, and if she has learned anything, it’s that Mastermind is anything but obvious. So what is their plan? What do they seek? And why do they want her at that place? Maybe there is something there. If it was not important to them, then they would have never told her. If so, what? What is there? But what if it’s actually a trap? What if they expect her to think it wasn’t a trap only to ambush her there? But this could be her only chance to finally get them. And if she does not go, she could lose that chance.

She retreats back to HQ, determination in her face. Right beside her passes him again, Ortega’s friend.

“Everything alright?” he asks, but she ignores him. “Fine keep ignoring me,” she hears him say, but it doesn’t matter, what matters is Mastermind.

[princeofny]

Elizabeth Holmes Might Have Been Better Off As A Basic Scammer

After reading Bad Blood and watching The Inventor, it’s easy to paint Elizabeth Holmes as a charlatan. The characterization as a ruthless scam artist and profiteer is a simplistic assessment of the story. Sans nuance, Holmes is a believable villain: ambitious, arrogant, delusional — all adjectives apply.

However, the question of intent is highly relevant. By that, it must be asked if she was intentionally misleading people; didn’t care if she hurt anyone nor the level to which they were hurt; and thought that her engineers would eventually develop a working prototype to match the glossy packaging she modeled after Steve Jobs’s creations.

Jobs is a key part of the story even though he had nothing to do with Holmes’s company, Theranos. Holmes was seeking to emulate Jobs to the point that she was walking around in black turtlenecks and mimicking his mannerisms on and off stage down to the hard charging, borderline abusive way in which his workers were treated to make his vision a reality.

The key difference is that aesthetics was only part of what made Apple products so unique and successful – they worked and Jobs had the capability to makethem work. He could envision a glossy exterior that also had a working interior. Holmes essentially created a great looking car that didn’t have an engine and she didn’t know how to make the engine.

The Edison was a great looking device. Yet Holmes’s lofty ambitions were exponentially beyond what she and it could do.

The engineers set about to make the vision succeed because that’s what engineers do. As for the medical requirements to take a drop of blood and conduct the number of tests the Edison was meant to conduct, it didn’t work and she was told beforehand that it wouldn’t work. She’s not a doctor; not a medical researcher. She had an idea she could not complete. It failed because it was doomed to fail not because it was a bad idea, but because she had zero credentials to create the thing.  

Holmes is being relentlessly – and to a degree, deservedly – mocked because of her fake deep voice, the conjured biography, the outfits, the interviews and the out and out fabrications. This is another case of her looking stupid because of the way the story turned out. Had the product done anything resembling what she said it could do, the biography gets shrugged off as expected puffery that is retrospectively meaningless like someone who worked as a busboy in a fancy French restaurant and turned that into having been a captain at the same restaurant on his resume and turned out to be the best restaurant manager a high-end establishment ever had who eventually opened his own chain of classic eateries. The thing worked, so what’s the difference?

With her, the product was a failure; the company was rife with paranoia, scheming and lies; and it wasn’t a plastic ab-roller she was selling on late night TV promising people that if they used it for a month, they’d have the body of Cristiano Ronaldo. If anyone believes that line of crap and uses the product, they’ll be disappointed, but only out $19.95 and have no one to blame but themselves.

Holmes was messing around with peoples’ blood; their health; their medical diagnoses; their treatment – and she kept on going because she wanted to fulfill that tall tales being told about her and that she started.

Despite her acceptance to Stanford and clear intelligence, there is an obvious fantasy world comparable to her going into her parents’ basement, crawling into the cardboard box from the newly delivered washing machine and planning a trip to Neptune. Imagination isn’t good enough. Yet she was given billions of dollars by venture capitalists to make her dream a reality and that only succeeded in making her more arrogant and determined to figure it out. Except she was not capable of figuring anything out and those who were able to do so quickly concluded that the idea was not possible right now.

In the future, who knows? There’s a fine line between the brilliant and the preposterous. If someone comes along and has the medical and technical knowhow to complete Holmes’s dream, so be it. They’ll get the credit. She won’t. Because she couldn’t

This became a cyclical endeavor. Venture capitalists are gamblers by nature, but rather than put their money on the will of the roulette wheel or a hand of blackjack, they find products or ideas and pour money into those products or ideas to make its vision a reality. Some of them sound ridiculous, but end up brilliant. Others sound ridiculous because they are ridiculous. What would the reaction to the Wright brothers have been when they said they were planning on making a flying machine? Would anyone have given them money? Would it have been something anyone but a gullible lunatic would invest in?

You never know.

Maybe someday, someone will create a machine that does exactly what Holmes said hers could do. It had better be someone who has the credentials to pull it off.

Famous, prominent people who became involved with Holmes – Bill Clinton, George Shultz, Henry Kissinger, Jim Mattis – were not just impressed by Holmes, but were besotted with her. This cannot be diminished to an attractive woman becoming an industry unto herself. She sold it and sold it well. How would those men and anyone else who jumped in with Holmes have known whether the product was workable or not? They’re not doctors. They’re not engineers. They know what they’re told and sold. So goes the logic that if X person was putting money into it and Y person was solidly behind Holmes, she had to have a foundation in place to make the thing into a working product.

Didn’t she?

As much as the name recognition of these men gives credibility to that which they have chosen to become involved, they’re not qualified to judge one way or the other.  

The distinction of getting in over one’s head and seeing no way out but forward is critical. Holmes facing the reality that going back when the product was clearly a failure was the exact same result of pushing forward, only sooner, is important. With all the accolades and idol worship and expectations and money, how could she just say out of nowhere, “Forget it. It doesn’t work”?

She was not a prototypical scammer selling an empty box and justifying the money she took and ran away with by sneering, “They were dumb enough to believe my bullshit.” It’s doubtful that she thought it was bullshit; that she didn’t care if she hurt people to meet her ends. The scam was the result, but it was not the end she had in mind as scammers generally do. In a way, she was worse. It was an ego-based scam where she couldn’t just take the money and run.

[shipmistress9]

FTLOAP: Chapter 24: Do You Know The Line That I’d Walk For You

Title: For The Love Of A Princess

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net  -  AO3

Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11; Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: So someone over on @athingofvikings ' Discord server asked why there wasn't a discussion channel for FTLOAP, since he's my alpha reader. So he invited me to the server and made a channel for discussing my fic. The direct invite link can be found here or in @athingofvikings ' Tumblr sidebar on his Tumblr. Whoever is interested in discussing this fic, with me or others, is invited to join us there. :) I'll happily answer questions if there's something unclear or give additional background information (on Oswald for example), but won't give away major spoilers.

Further, I want to remind you that this is the second-to-last chapter before my NaNoWriMo-hiatus. There might be a small update somewhere in between, but else we start again in December.

. o O o .

“Odin, please, if you can hear my prayer, do something. Anything!”

Daniel’s lamentations made Astrid smirk, and she quickly lifted a napkin to dap her mouth in order to hide it. Eret and Dagur fared little better, both coughing to cover up their laughter, and Eret even slapped Dagur on the back as if he’d choked on something solid.

Around them, the feast for Dagur’s accolade was in full swing. In opposition to the smorgasbord in Eret’s honour, today a more formal meal was being served. There were beautifully arranged plates of meat, cheese, imported fruits, and pastries everywhere, with the guests sitting around tables of varying sizes all over the room, while servants bustled about, exchanging empty plates for fresh ones and filling orders for drinks. It was loud and frenetic, but to Astrid, it was a relief. No walking around, no bumping into other people, no need to avoid unwanted contact or company. Oh, sure, there would be mingling later, people leaving their tables to sit with others and have a chat. But Astrid planned to be long gone by then.

For now, she and her brothers sat around one end of the King’s High Table, separated from their fathers by a couple of empty chairs and from other tables by enough distance to keep other diners from easily overhearing them. It was a bearable setting for Astrid. Just like the night before, her father had offered her to leave once the formal part of the accolade was over, but today, she had refused. Her plan to sneak away to meet with Hiccup again still lingered in her mind, but this was Dagur’s big day, and she wanted to celebrate with him.

Even if, right now, celebrating meant Daniel was whining about how unfair the Gods and his Fate were.

“I mean,” Dagur said, still somewhat coughing and laughing, “you are the Crown Prince, right? You’re kinda important. Not to mention that you’re the one planning and deciding over these missions. Couldn’t you… I don’t know… just change those plans?”

“I only wish,” Daniel pouted. “But everything’s already been planned for months. I can order men to move, but logistics... that’s another thing entirely. Troops have already begun securing the general area and basic materials are en route to Loki’s Teeth. I wish I could rearrange things and start with Redpeak instead, but I fear I won’t get away with such a sudden change of plan. My decisions still should be sensible. You know, so people accept my leadership, and all? And overriding all the preparations we’ve made so far just on a whim wouldn’t be sensible at all.”

Astrid listened with a mixture of amusement and confusion, but when Daniel stopped his venting and returned his attention to his roast venison, she nudged Eret’s arm and asked, “What brought this up again? I thought he was done with this topic a month ago.”

Still grinning, Eret leant closer as if to whisper confidentially while still being so loud that there was no question whether Daniel would be able to hear him. “Oh, that’s Hiccup’s fault. During today’s training, he and Daniel ended up standing to the side and talking while Dag and I demonstrated stances to the lads. And apparently, Hiccup found yet another way to improve Redpeak in one of the books Daniel brought him from the library. Don’t ask me for any details, because I seriously didn’t understand a word when they were gushing about it over lunch. But now Daniel is desperate to get started with the improvements there instead of the repairs at the outposts around Loki’s Teeth.”

“And those improvements would be so useful come summer,” Daniel emphasised, pointing his fork at Eret as if that alone could prove his point. “A handful of men could easily hold that mountain path, and I’d have more spare men to send elsewhere. But the facts remain, I can’t change the plans anymore, not without a damn good reason. Besides, Uncle Spite has requested those repairs so often already, it’s about time we get them done. No, so long as no miracle occurs, Redpeak will have to wait until next year.” He sighed theatrically, which made everyone laugh again.

“Too bad being royal isn’t really about doing what you want all day, eh?” Dagur cackled, nudging Daniel in an attempt to cheer him up. It worked, to a degree at least, as Daniel snorted in agreement before stirring their conversation to a less frustrating topic.

Astrid fought to hide a grimace at Dagur’s words, but couldn’t keep her mind from wandering as the men began talking about this year’s recruits.

Doing what you want…

No, being royal really wasn’t about doing what she wanted, not at all. That was a lesson she’d learned very soon after she’d been supposed to start behaving like a royal. And these days, it was even worse. She didn’t even know anymore what she wanted.

Talking to Heather earlier had answered a few of her questions, though not all, and in addition, it had raised a couple new ones too. Some could only be answered once she and Hiccup were alone again, while others… Well, others, she had to answer for herself. Like the question what it was she wanted!

She wanted Hiccup and that foreseen future with him, wanted them bad. She would do nearly anything for that. But she still didn’t know what it was that was expected of her, what she would have to do.

Heather’s words kept whirling around in her head. ‘Don’t make a mistake you might regret.’ Astrid knew what she’d meant, and she wouldn’t… No, she definitely wouldn’t! Just like every young girl, she’d been taught what the changes of her body meant, how to cope with moon blood, and what it took to fall pregnant. That was a mistake she couldn’t risk. It would be a scandal, shaming not only her and Hiccup, but her father and Daniel as well. It would weaken the Crown, and that was something she couldn’t risk. She might hate being the Royal Figurehead, but that didn’t mean that she would willingly risk for the Kingdom and its people to drown in chaos.

So, what was it she was supposed to do? Hiccup had said that he had a plan, had promised that everything would work out. And she trusted him. She just needed to wait; he’d said he’d need time, after all.

The thought made her grimace though. Just waiting, hoping for his plan to work, and behaving as she should – not ruining anything until then… That sounded like a prudent plan, even though the thought alone made her shudder. She didn’t want to behave, to just sit and wait and do nothing.

But maybe this was what she had to do. Following the rules… Maybe it would be better to stay away from him until everything was settled. The correct way would be to wait. She knew she couldn’t risk falling pregnant, couldn’t… couldn’t actually have sex with Hiccup. But it was more than just that; even their secret meetings, their kisses and caresses, all that was against all rules already. It was wrong.

But how could something be wrong when it felt so… so right?

The men around her burst out into laughter and Astrid hastily chimed in with a low chuckle. She had no idea what they were talking about, but she at least wanted to try to keep up appearances.

Appearances… Doing what was appropriate… The thought left a strangely bitter aftertaste in her mind. Right from the beginning, that sentiment hadn’t applied to her and Hiccup. It wasn’t propriety that had let to their first meeting, not at all. Sneaking away against her father’s explicit wish, wandering around without the supervision of her brother or warder, spending hours chatting with a stranger, and secretly meeting and kissing him in a dark room – no, none of that had been appropriate. The rules of proper decorum didn’t apply to them, never had, so what was the point in trying to follow them now?

Swallowing, Astrid gazed at her hands, tightly wrapped around her glass of wine. No, the rules of society couldn't tell her what to do. Supposedly, those were Frigga's own rules, but it clearly wasn’t what the Goddess wanted from her, or else she wouldn’t have led her into Hiccup’s arms that way in the first place. So what should she do?

Once again, Astrid felt for the key beneath her dress, for the warm glow lingering in her heart – and fought back a sudden gasp of quiet laughter. Maybe that was it, maybe the answer was much easier than she’d thought. By binding her and Hiccup with a soulbond, the Gods had made all this a matter of the heart. So maybe this was her answer after all. She would just follow her heart and do what felt right. Sure, there were still lines she wouldn’t cross, but aside from that she would stop pondering whether what she did was right or wrong.

Smiling, she sighed, feeling as if an invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders. This was still not an answer to all of her questions, but it was a start. At least one question was easy to answer now. She would definitely try to sneak away again tonight.

A light nudge against her upper arm made her blink and look up. Once again, she’d drifted off into her own world, but quickly composed herself again when she noticed Eret’s concerned eyes on her.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, his tattooed chin pointing at her hand that still rested over her heart. “You’re doing that a lot lately; you’re not getting ill, are you?”

Hastily, Astrid dropped her hand and reached for her fork instead. Spearing a piece of venison, she tried to appear unperturbed. “Sure, I’m fine. Of course I am,” she replied cheerfully, chewed, then threw him an easy smile. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He gave her a long, indecipherable look. Once she thought he wanted to say something, but then he shook his head, more to himself than to her. “Never mind,” he said, and turned his attention back to Daniel and Dagur.

Odin, she ought to pay more attention to who might be watching her. Gulping, Astrid followed his example, and turned her focus back on her brothers and their conversation. From the few comments she picked up, they were discussing tactics for sea battles right now, and she tried to concentrate in order to make an appropriate remark somewhere. It was not a subject she was particularly interested in though, and her mind was in danger of drifting off toward a certain pair of green eyes again, when she was saved by the arrival of an unusual visitor.

“Good evening, Prince Daniel, Princess Astrid,” a voice like liquid silk sounded from the side. “Sir Eret, Sir Dagur.”

They all turned toward the newcomer, and then quickly rose to greet her.

“Fyrir Mala!” Daniel spoke first, bowing deeply. Eret and Dagur followed his example as Astrid curtsied appropriately, all murmuring greetings as well. “Good evening to you too, fair lady.”

The woman nodded, her short blond hair swaying only slightly. Daniel offered her the chair next to him, the heavy fabric of her black-and-golden dress rustling as she sat down. Astrid and the others took their seats again too, clearly puzzled by the Fyrir’s appearance. As highest member of the Order of Freya, she had little to no dealings with any of them. Not like Fyrir Throk, who worked in close relation to Daniel all the time when it came to the skirmishes in the West, or the Fyrir’s Gothi and Alvin, who regularly had dealings with the castle.

They all sat quietly, slightly stunned, as Daniel waved over a servant with a tray of wine glasses, handing one to the Fyrir.

“Thank you, your Highness,” she said formally, and took a sip of the wine. Astrid wondered what had made her approach them, and, judging by their expressions, Daniel and the others were wondering the same. But before either of them could ask, the Fyrir placed her glass back on the table and looked up at them.

“My congratulations to you for your accolade, Sir Dagur,” she said in her melodic voice. “And of course, to you too, Sir Eret. I beg your apology for only delivering it now.”

Both Dagur and Eret murmured a confused “Thank you,” sharing a puzzled glance, as the Fyrir reached for her glass again. Astrid understood them all too well; while the Fyrir’s words were adequate for the occasion, it was clearly not the reason for why she was here.

Daniel tried his best to awkwardly engage her into their conversation, commenting on the feast and the weather, but that only highlighted how there seemed to be no purpose in her approaching them. “As much as I appreciate the honour of your presence, fair lady,” he finally said more directly, glancing over to the other end of the table where their father and the two Grand Dukes were chatting amiably. “May I ask… to what we owe this honour?”

Fyrir Mala smiled in her usual, mysterious way that always made Astrid think of a cat; as if she knew a secret, but wouldn’t share it with anyone. Though truth be told, that probably wasn’t so far off. “I came to deliver a message. One of my Ástir asked me if I could do so, and I did not see a problem in fulfilling her request.” She turned her head toward Eret. “Cami sends her regards, Sir Eret. She asked me to thank you for the safe journey, and to inform you that she is settled now. She also wanted to extend an invitation to meet her on the day after tomorrow to you and… your friends?” Her voice perked up just a tiny bit at the end, turning her statement into a question.

Curious about what that could mean, Astrid turned to glance at Eret, and judging by the puzzled look on Daniel’s face, he was wondering too. But Eret had a huge grin on his face. “Thank you for delivering that message, Fyrir Mala,” he said, insinuating a bow. “I am glad to hear she settled in well. And as for the invitation–” he glanced at Dagur, who also wore a grin on his face, and at Daniel who shrugged and nodded slightly– “we accept it gladly.”

The Fyrir nodded, then turned to Daniel. “Will you be joining your friends, Milord? Or shall I inform Kaden that you are coming for a visit? She has no appointment for that day so far.”

“Ahm…” Daniel made, glancing at Eret and Dagur with a raised eyebrow. “I think I’d prefer Kaden’s company.”

Again, Fyrir Mala nodded as if she hadn’t expected anything else, then rose from her chair. “I will see you soon then, Milords. Milady.” She nodded to everyone in farewell, and then was gone just as quickly as she’d appeared.

“She’s an odd one,” Dagur murmured as soon as she was out of earshot. “Even for a woman. No offence,” he added, winking at Astrid, but then put on an overly dramatic expression. “But did I get that right, Daniel. You prefer some woman’s company over ours? I’m hurt!”  

“Maybe there’s more, but he’s just not telling us,” Eret suggested, one eyebrow raised and with an insinuating grin.

Daniel groaned. “You’re horrible. No, there’s not more to tell. I just enjoy her company, okay?”

“Sure thing, we totally believe you,” Dagur teased.

“So, who is this Cami?” Daniel asked, turning to Eret and unsubtly changing the topic. “I don’t think I remember you ever talking about her? Is there something we ought to know?”

Astrid bit her lip, knowing that Daniel couldn’t be further off, but also glanced at Eret expectantly. She, too, was interested in his answer.

“Oh, no, not what you think,” Eret laughed. “She’s a good friend, but nothing more.”

Dagur snorted. “What, the daughter of one of the Stallari of Freya’s Order is ‘nothing’?”

Astrid’s eyebrows rose at that; the Stallari were the senior priests, directly under the Fyrir.  And while internal Temple politics were complicated, as she knew somewhat from Heather occasionally telling small tales, that sort of family tie was nothing to sneer at. She glanced at the two Dukes’ sons and wondered for a moment if they were playing politics, or if history was going to repeat itself, or something else.

Daniel seemed to think that it was the first option. “Oh, look at you pair of social climbers!” he teased. “Which Stallari?”

“Eastervale’s. And it’s really not what you think! She spent the last couple of years learning to become a full Ástir. This year, she finished her education, and when the decision was made that she would move here to the capitol, I offered to organise for her to travel with our servants. I thought that would surely be much safer and more comfortable than making such a journey on her own. She’s also the one who smuggled Markor’s normal saddle for me.”

“I see. But are you telling me that you’ll only be chatting and drinking tea with her then?” Daniel asked, smirking. “I was wondering about the ‘bring your friends’ part. But in that case, I should tell Fyrir Mala to call off my appointment with Kaden so that I can join you after all.”

Dagur snorted in amusement, but if he wanted to say something, Eret beat him to it. “No, we definitely won’t be just chatting,” he chuckled. “But Cami is… well, she doesn’t mind me bringing friends. Dagur came along a couple of times when he came to visit Eastervale, and during the last few months, Hiccup met her occasionally too.” He shrugged. “She’s great.”

“Sounds like she’s going to be busy enough with you three then,” Daniel commented dryly. “So I’ll stick to my choice; I prefer a more intimate atmosphere with someone I know.”

Eret nodded, but when he answered, his words didn’t register in Astrid’s mind anymore. The mention of Hiccup had brought her thoughts about him back to the surface, and whatever bantering went back and forth between her brothers quickly faded into the background.

Of course, Hiccup had been with Ástirs, that was no surprise. It was custom, after all, that young men were brought to the Temple of Freya as soon as they ‘spilt their desire in their sleep’, although she had no clue what that meant. It wasn’t only to sate their desires though, but also to teach them the particulars about sex, so that they could ‘pass that knowledge on to their wives and their married life would be full of joy’. Or that was all she had ever learned. That she was not to ask any inappropriate questions and was to wait until she could ask them to her future husband.

She felt another smirk tug at her lips and quickly suppressed it. Oh, she could ask those questions to her future husband, alright. But the first and most important question was… what did she want to ask him? What did she want to know? What did she dare to ask?

Again, her hand wandered to her chest, not caring whether Eret or anyone else would notice. She just needed the support even that simple touch offered to cope with her thoughts. Astrid still wasn’t sure what she really wanted. Not actually having sex, that was for sure. But she wanted more than just the kisses they’d shared so far. And at the same time, she wasn’t even sure how much more she even could take, whatever it might be.

The thought of getting touched like that again still made her shudder. Despite her own assumption and Heather’s reassurance that… that it wouldn’t always be like what Harold had done, she was still nervous. What if she was broken, damaged beyond repair, could never stand a touch like that again? Would that change anything? And did Hiccup even want to touch her like that with how he was always pushing her back?

The questions kept whirling around in her mind, and it made her dizzy. But it also strengthened her resolve to sneak away and meet Hiccup tonight. She needed answers, and only he could provide them.

“I think I’d like to leave now,” she announced quietly as she noticed how the first guests started to leave their tables and meandered around. This was when she’d planned to leave anyway, and in the company of others, where she had to behave, she wouldn’t be any good for celebrating anyway.

“Of course,” Daniel nodded. He waved a servant over to send for Tuff, and then gave her a reassuring smile, the same expression she saw on Eret’s and Dagur’s faces too. They kept her company until Tuff arrived, warding off whoever wanted to approach them, and it made guilt rise inside her. They cared so much about her, tried everything to make her feel comfortable no matter how distressing the situation might be for her. It made lying to them so much harder. Sure, letting them assume that crowds of people bothered her wasn’t even a lie, but it also wasn’t the real reason why she wanted to leave. One day… One day in a far-away future, they would hopefully all laugh about it together…

When Tuff came to escort her back, her relieved sigh wasn’t a lie at all though. She just wanted to get away, from the people, the laughter, the tension and the lump that was forming in her throat, and toward the safety of a certain pair of warm arms.

Once back in her chambers, she proclaimed herself to be tired, and it didn’t take long until Ruff had her dressed for the night and she was lying alone in her dark bedroom. And she was nervous.

It wasn’t the same as the previous two times she’d snuck away though. Wringing the fabric of her blanket in her hands, she tried to lay out a plan for what she wanted to ask Hiccup. Approaching him with such a plea – breaching yet another rule by getting more physical than any unmarried couple should get – was huge; she knew that, and it wasn’t a step she took easily. But it still felt right. Hiccup was not like other men, she’d known that right from the first time she’d heard his voice. She trusted him. And just kissing simply wasn’t enough anymore.

Juggling all those thoughts in her head, she lay still, her heart racing, as she waited for the noises of Ruff and Tuff in their rooms to settle down. Anxiously, she waited for another half hour or so before she left her bed as quietly as she could and walked over to her dressing room on silent feet. With her ears perked up for any sounds, she pulled her hidden stash of clothes from behind one of the wardrobes and changed into the borrowed dress of a serving girl. Warm boots and a thick woollen cloak with the key to the castle’s sallyport in one pocket completed her outfit.

Only a couple of minutes later, she left her chambers through a servant’s entrance, and once she’d reached the more general area of the castle, she dared to breathe a sigh of relief. She’d escaped her guardians’ watch once again, and getting noticed in the general chaos around the still-ongoing feast was fairly unlikely.

Just like the last two times, Astrid escaped the castle without any trouble, and with nervousness churning in her guts, she made her way through the dark night toward the stables.

. o O o .

Hiccup lay outstretched on the blanket that marked his bed, arms crossed behind his head, and stared at the stable’s ceiling. He wasn’t waiting, he told himself. He didn’t know whether Astrid would come here tonight, so there was no point in waiting for her. He could just as well go to sleep; he’d wake up anyway in case she showed up. And yet, he couldn’t…

He couldn’t calm down enough to sleep, his thoughts and emotions too jumbled, just like they’d been all day. This morning, he’d woken up with mixed feelings already. The idea of spending the day at the fighting ground, of standing against young men who actually wanted to fight and who would – without a doubt – be stronger and more dexterous than him and his stupid leg, had made him nervous. But he’d also looked forward to watching Astrid as she demonstrated her skills with bow and arrow, to seeing her as the strong and confident person he knew she was deep inside. Eret had told him enough of the usual procedure, after all. These two reasons alone had been enough already to leave him torn, but to add to those, the prospect of spending an entire day in her presence without being allowed to even look at her too much… that had been daunting.

By the time he’d reached the garrison, he’d almost felt prepared though, but only to have everything come out differently anyway.

He hadn’t needed to fight at all, since the swordmaster had already validated his skills before. That had been good. And for the rest of the day, he’d tried to focus on that, on the positive. On not getting rammed into the ground by some overly eager heavyweight instead of the panic in Astrid’s eyes. On discussing his ideas for Redpeak with Daniel instead of going crazy over her absence.

She’d been so pale… Seeing her sitting in that carriage had made his heart sing, as always, but not for long. He’d seen the pain in her eyes, how her face had drained itself of all colour, how she’d trembled. Not hurrying toward her, supporting her… if had taken every tiny bit of self-control he’d been able to muster.

And then there hadn’t been any news about her at all anymore. Over lunch, Daniel had requested an update on how she was doing, but the servant had only been able to inform him that she wasn’t in her rooms, that her warder was with her, but that her maidservant hadn’t told them where they went. Daniel had thanked the man and had sent him away with a knowing smile that made Hiccup guess Daniel knew where she was and wasn’t worried. That was something, at least – but not quite enough to keep Hiccup from worrying for her too.

Not being able to help her – not being allowed to help her – it nagged at him. She was so tough, acting out her part despite all the pain and fear inside her, lying to those closest to her, just because of him… And all he could do when she needed him was standing unmoving and watch her suffer. If only there was something he could do for her, something to help her with her fears and struggles, just… just something!

But he couldn’t think of anything.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for the latest book Daniel had brought, a collection of maps of the Western Mountain Range with explanations and descriptions of the terrain, vegetation, and general information. Maybe this would be able to distract him from thinking about her all the time. At the very least, it would be helpful to know all this come summer, and would let him be even more of an aid for Daniel and the others.

For about half an hour, Hiccup forced himself to concentrate on the pages, successfully pushing all thoughts about Astrid into the back of his mind, before he heard the already so familiar noises from the stable’s entrance door. The unavoidable scraping of metal against metal, the careful rustling of fabric as she entered. In a heartbeat, he was up on his feet and out of his stall, an eager smile on his face when he spotted her.

She looked strange though, weirdly timid in the way she stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, chewing her lip, her hands wringing the heavy fabric of her cloak.

“Hey,” he greeted her with a warm smile, amused by how different this greeting was from the one the night before.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice thin, barely more than a high whisper. She only glanced up at him once before her eyes dropped and a slight blush, barely noticeable in the dim light, spread across her cheeks.

This was not what he’d expected. But maybe, what had happened that morning had hit her harder than assumed. Concerned, he stepped closer, reaching to cup her face. “Hey, how are you? Is everything all right?” His question made a quick smile tug at her lips. Or maybe it was his touch, he wasn’t sure.

“Yes, I’m good,” she mumbled, leaning into his hand for a moment before sobering up again. It made him doubt her answer, especially when she looked up at him with an anxious expression. “I just…” she began anew, biting her lip again before she went on. “Can I ask you something?”

Frowning, Hiccup nodded, pulling her along to sit down on the straw bales in his stall. “Of course,” he replied sincerely. “Anything.” And he meant it. There was nothing he wanted to hide from her. The thought of her possibly asking after his past made him cringe a little, but if she wanted to know, he would tell her. Or try to, at least. But that wasn’t what she wanted.

“What… what is it that’s between us?”

Her question caught him completely off guard. Was she really asking that? Sure, they’d never really talked about it, but… but she had to know! Right…? “It’s… it’s a soulbond,” he replied carefully, not sure what her question was about or where she was going.

Astrid gazed at him with a weirdly pained expression, nodded, but directly shook her head. “I know but… This bond,” she mumbled, placing her hand over her heart in that gesture he was all too familiar with. “Is that… all?” There was a slight shimmer in her eyes as she glanced up at him again, making her look incredibly vulnerable.

But Hiccup still wasn’t sure what she meant. A soulbond was supposed to be the strongest and truest connection people could share; what else could there be that outranked that?

He lifted his shoulders, a little helplessly, so she went on, “I mean… Is that… all that’s between us? Just this bond, the Gods’ Will? You keep bringing it up, and I... I mean, I can’t compare this to anything else. I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel, but… but to me, it’s so much… more...“ she broke off, voice trembling, and finally he understood.

Her reluctance and that pained look she’d gotten when he’d brought up the bond the night before… It all made sense now.

Gasping out a shaky laugh, he slowly shook his head. “Oh Astrid,” he sighed, reaching out for her hand to entangle his fingers with hers – just like their lives were entangled into one thread too. How could she even think… “Of course, that’s not all! Astrid, I…” He trailed off, trying to find words strong enough to make her understand.

But even those too-weak words already seemed to be enough for her face to light up. “So, it’s not just that the Gods decided for us?” she asked for clarification, hope shimmering in her beautiful eyes.

It made Hiccup’s heart clench painfully. That’s what she’d been thinking, and because of his words, no less? “No, it’s not just that,” he clarified softly, squeezing her hand tighter. “Astrid, I’ve never felt anything even remotely close to this before. But it’s definitely more than just obeying to the Gods’ wishes. You… you’re like my personal sun, what makes my life warm and bright when I’d thought it would be misty darkness forever. And I don’t really care if it’s what the Gods want or not. It’s what I want. You’re everything to me.”

Joy sparkled in her eyes, and with something between a sigh and laughter, she leaned forward, almost threw herself into his arms even. Before he could do anything, her lips had found his, kissing him, short but hard. “It’s the same for me,” she gasped against his lips, still giggling occasionally. She was shaking, and he pulled her closer, tilting his head to kiss her more deeply in a slow and sensual manner. She complied without restraints until she sat in his lap once more, her hands in his hair driving him mad. Hiccup felt the usual heat build inside him, but fought to push it down in order to concentrate on her, on letting his lips and tongue move with hers.

Holding her in his arms like this, it was a wonderful feeling, especially after how worried he’d been for her all day. Just feeling her lithe body beneath his hands as they wrapped around her waist, knowing that she was all right. Inhaling her potent scent of mayweed, listening to her gasping for air as their kiss ended. Her warmth beneath the fabric of her dress, the way her body yielded, soft against his chest...

“How was your day?” he asked, retreating slightly to look at her. Forcing himself to focus.

“It was… okay,” she said with a shrug, absently fiddling with strands of his hair. She looked too tense though for her words to feel real.

“I mean, what happened at the fighting ground...” he asked carefully. He didn’t want to pry, but he wanted her to know that, with him, she didn’t need to act tough.

“Oh, that…” she smiled weakly, slightly shaking her head as she dropped her hands. “It was nothing. I just… overreacted, I guess. It was the place, Odin’s Tree, the memories…” Shivering, she shrugged. “And I feared… well, with how shaky my hands had been, I wasn’t so sure whether shooting an arrow at our future King with the goal to miss him would be such a good idea,” she added, laughing slightly. “Just imagine what would happen if I’d missed that goal?”

Hiccup nodded, understanding. “And afterwards?” he asked gently, not wanting her to linger on that thought. He could imagine all too well how much that idea must have scared her.

“I visited some friends,” she said, smiling absently. “Just getting on other thoughts, you know?”

“And did it work?”

“It did,” she nodded, then frowned. “Those other thoughts, though...“ Once again, she blushed, shyly peeking up at him as she bit her lips. “I… I’d like to try something… if that’s okay?”

Confused, Hiccup nodded. A smile tugged at his lips as she leaned closer to kiss him once more and it reminded him of that day after Eret’s accolade, where she’d said something similar. And just like then, he let her take the lead, only carefully kissing her back, and waited for what it was she wanted to try.

Blindly, she reached for his hand, and he complied as she lifted it to her chest, wondering. He could feel her hand over his heart, warm and soothing like so often before. Basking in their connection, feeling each other’s heartbeat while they kissed, it was a wonderful sensation, but nothing they hadn’t done before. So, what was it she wanted to–

Hiccup froze.

Astrid had placed his hand over her heart, as usual, but instead of the firm plain over her sternum, he felt… soft, yielding flesh, perfectly sized for his hand to cup and…

With a grunt, he retreated. He stared at her, at his hand on her breast, and back at her eyes. There was a strange expression in them; stern, but also pleading and insecure. Her hand that was firmly holding his in place even as he made a half-hearted attempt at pulling away, was trembling.

“Astrid, what…?” he gasped, head spinning. This was wrong, he couldn’t, mustn’t touch her like this, it wasn’t allowed, wasn’t…

And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to put more force into pulling his hand away. Not with the vulnerable pleading look in Astrid’s eyes, and not with how… how good it felt. How right! So he just shook his head, over and over, disbelievingly, panting, his heart beating frantically.

“I just...,” Astrid breathed, her voice so weak that he could barely hear it over the blood thrumming through his ears. “I just want to know… I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t-don’t have to. But… I just want to know… how it feels.”

A strangled groan escaped him. If he didn’t want to? Gods, if she knew just how much he wanted to! Without his help, his fingers flexed, and the little gasp she made in response almost made him lose every bit of coherent thoughts. Yes, he wanted to; wanted to touch her, feel her, draw more noises like that little gasp out of her. He wanted–

Desperately, he shook his head, yet was still unable to move his hand away. “Astrid, we can’t!” he implored, fighting for control over his body and mind. “It’s not right, too risky. What if–”

“None of this is right, if you ask anyone else,” she interrupted him. “Our kisses, our feelings, me being here…”

She had a point. But still.

“Astrid – that’s different. We–”

“I know,” she interrupted him again, voice trembling but with a little more vigour in it now. “And I don’t… I don’t mean…” She broke off, lips and eyes pressed shut for a moment before she looked at him again. “I don’t mean to go… all the way,” she clarified, another endearing blush spreading over her cheeks as she swallowed. “No… no getting naked and… that. I just want to know… how it feels when it’s you touching me… It’s supposed to feel good, right? I just want to know how it feels, or whether I’m broken...”

Understanding dawned on him, and he could only stare as his mind worked through what she’d said, what she meant.

She was afraid. Of course she was, she had been all the time. She was afraid of what had been done to her, of a repetition, of how that influenced her future. Broken… She wasn’t broken, and he knew that. If she had been, she wouldn’t have been able to stand any of their interaction.

Hiccup swallowed, eyes closed as he tried to think. He’d wanted to be able to do something to help her, so that she could overcome her fears… And here now, she asked him for this?

He shouldn’t give in. There was nothing but a very thin line between what she asked for and what would be too much. But he could see how scared she was, how deeply hurt she was by her fears. He’d wanted to be able to do something for her... Well, this he could do. For her, he could walk this line.

His free hand trembled as he reached to cup her cheek, tilting her head a little before he leaned in to kiss her, deep and slow, his hand on her breast moving with the same pace.

. o O o .

When Astrid had come here, she’d been incredibly nervous.

But now, pressed into the straw, she did not, could not feel any of that any longer.

She felt wonderful. Everything was so intense; his lips on hers, robbing her of her senses, his weight on top of her, barely supported on one arm, his hand on her breast, caressing and squeezing. The way their gasped breaths mingled. It was intoxicating.

A small part of Astrid wanted to laugh at herself. For all these weeks now, she'd marvelled about this strange feeling, this warm tingling in her belly that only Hiccup could elicit in her, had wanted more of it.

On other times, she’d wondered how making love would feel, whether she would be able to stand a man's touch, or whether her attackers had ruined that for her.

But now, she understood. Now, she realised what that tingling sensation was as it grew with every single one of Hiccup's touches, became stronger, hotter, more, until it seemed to consume her, robbed her of all senses, and ruled her every thought.

Oh yes, she would have laughed at her own stupidity if only she'd had the mind for it. But instead, she moaned against Hiccup's mouth as his thumb brushed over her breast, over her nipple beneath the dress. It was such a light touch, and yet so powerful, so overwhelming. She arched up, seeking more, and felt his lips stretch into a grin.

His motions grew stronger, his whole body moving against her, with her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist just to have something to hold on to. It was maddening, wonderful, and her only regret was not to have done any of this sooner.

Eventually, Astrid became too distracted by all those sensations to keep kissing him, and he seemed to fare little better. His lips brushed over her face, her neck, leaving damp spots of condensed breaths and distracted licks in their wake. Her hands clenched, crunching up his tunic and slowly pulling it upwards. Eventually, her hands touched the bare skin on his back, smooth, but damp with sweat. Again, her hands clenched as his tongue left a damp spot just below her ear, her fingers digging into his back. It made Hiccup groan against her neck, the sounds vibrating through his entire body.

Despite her spaced-out mind, his reaction thrilled her. Because he'd reacted to her. She had drawn that sound out of him. Curiously, her hands wandered on beneath his tunic, gliding over more skin than she'd cared to think about so far but found utterly irresistible to touch, Hiccup's continuing groans spurring her on even more.

Soon, he was moving more and more rhythmically, rocking and grinding their bodies together. Her skirts, squished between them, were completely rumpled, but Astrid couldn't care less, the sublime sensation of them being so close on so many levels robbing her of every other thought.

“Ahh-strid!” he moaned, then suddenly let out a wild howl, muffled against her neck. His whole body seemed to twitch and shake, pressed so tightly against her that she could feel how his muscles flexed, even through their clothes.

It bewildered Astrid, but only lasted a couple of seconds. Then he stilled, panting ragged breaths, his body trembling but otherwise unmoving.

“Hiccup?” she asked, confused as she let her hand glide over his back again. “Are you all right?”

He made a low noise, something between a groan and a whine, and pushed himself up on shaking arms to gaze down at her. He looked… strange; face slack with his lips parted, his eyes blown wide, dark, and with an almost… scared expression in them.  

“Oh, Gods...” he gasped, slowly shaking his head, then awkwardly rolled off her and sat up. Groaning, he buried his face in his hands, mumbling words she couldn’t quite understand.

Astrid sat up too, watching him. She was confused, didn’t understand what just happened. Why had he stopped? And what had happened to him? “Hiccup, what–” she managed to get out, reaching out her hand to touch his shoulder, but didn’t continue when he lifted his head to throw her a pained look.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, visibly fighting between leaning into her touch and scooting away. “I’m so sorry, that shouldn't have… Freya, forgive me, I didn’t mean to…”

“Hiccup, what happened?” she demanded, now a little scared herself. What had brought on this sudden change?

But again, Hiccup just gave her that pained look. “I’m sorry,” he said instead of an answer. “I just… hope... I hope that it was, was okay? For you, I mean?”  He swallowed nervously. “I mean... I know you didn’t... Gods, did that help... help answer things?”

Astrid nodded, getting more confused with each word he said. Okay wasn’t the right word though. It had been fantastic. She still felt as if her body was singing, blood thrumming through her, seeking more of his touch. It hadn’t been enough.

“Good,” he murmured, shoulders slumping. “But this was a bad idea. I never should have let it come this far, should–” Once more, he broke off and shook his head.

Astrid felt the urge to crawl over to him, to embrace and kiss him, to tell him that it was okay. But she didn’t even know what it was that bothered him. Had she made some mistake?

“I-I think you should go back,” he finally said, more firmly than anything he’d said before. “You really shouldn’t be here, it’s too dangerous. Too risky. Yeah, you should…” He fought himself up on his legs, holding one hand out to help her up as well.

Bewildered, she followed him as he led her to the door. He walked a little strangely, but that might be because of his leg. She pondered offering her help to massage it again, but decided against it. Hiccup seemed sincere in wanting her gone. Meticulously, he checked her dress and hair for stray bits of straw and did his best to straighten out the wrinkles in her skirt. Then he declared her good to go, and opened the door for her.

Astrid hesitated though, throwing him another puzzled look. “Hiccup… I’m sorry if I did something wrong, I didn’t mean–”

“No, no,” he cut her off. “No, you didn’t… Gods, no, Astrid. It was my mistake, my responsibility… I’m sorry!”

None of this made sense…

“Are we… good?” she asked cautiously, eyes burning with the threat of tears. She didn’t want to cry, but, Gods, she was so confused.

But to her relief, Hiccup’s features softened. He made a cautious step toward her, and after hesitating for the briefest of moments, took her into his arms. “Yes, we are,” he reassured her, even pressed his lips to her forehead. “We are good, always. But you really ought to go now.” He let go of her, and she made a few steps toward the door, but then turned toward him again.

Let your heart guide you.

Before he could react, she had crossed the distance between them once more and stretched to press her lips to his. Her hands were curled around his sharp jaw, cradling him, holding him.

For the blink of an eye, she thought he would resist, would pull away. But then he leaned in, his arms wound around her waist, his lips parting easily for her. He kissed her back with all the abandon she’d hoped for, the sudden tension between them simmering down into the background.

When they parted, Hiccup gave her an apologetic but warm smile. “We’re good,” he repeated, voice sincere and thick.

Astrid nodded, smiled tentatively, and then turned to hike back to the castle.

But she still had no idea what just happened.

. o O o .

This chapter was one of those I had in mind for ages. I'm pretty relieved that it's done now, even though I feel like it didn't end up quite as I wanted it to... But then, it never does...

What are your thought about the part at the beginning, their conversations and Mala? And what about the Hiccstrid part? Some bits still feel a bit rushed to me, sorry there...

Next chapter

[theintuitivewildflower]

What an amazing quote to start this week.

"But if you bury your sadness under your skin instead of letting it out; what else can it do but grow in your veins, to your heart." -Nikita Gill

It gets me thinking about how healing, for me, went into high gear when I quit resisting emotions as they came to me; rather I let them flow to me, then from me. Knowing that the darker feelings will still come along but they'll also go away helps to me work through them; as I know after the darkness comes more light. This too shall pass is the kind of approach I found worked best because it will pass. Feelings are meant to be felt and awareness of them can help you in knowing yourself and what makes you tick. Awareness of our feelings brings about healing by way of self-love, mindfulness, personal growth and emotional maturity.

Healing is crucial for you if you want healthier relationships in the future including those with family, friends and partners.

Starve the Ego; Smother Your Distractions

Today I'm discussing starving the ego, our personal or false self; starving distractions in our relationships, dating, co-parenting, families and friendships. Feeding the soul is more beneficial to your true self; soul work is simply aiming to align with your authentic self, who you are at your core. So here we go, here come some tips that are working for me regarding how and where to begin your own feelings to healing process.

"But if you bury your sadness under your skin instead of letting it out; what else can it do but grow in your veins, to your heart." -Nikita Gill

You cannot pour from an empty cup.

Feelings Bring Healing

Hurt people hurt people! -Russ

Loving yourself enough to give yourself time to heal can help you foster healthier relationships in the future. You really can't love anyone else properly if you are not complete yourself.

Ego is your false self. It is who we want others to perceive us to be. It is the people pleaser in us; the mask we wear for fear that someone will see who we really are. Also known as the shadow or our dark side. We all have one and we all choose whether it gets fed or not. Often, subconsciously, we allow ourselves and others to feed it and if we aren't careful it can take over our authentic self and get out of control if we aren't paying attention.

The quote by Nikita Gill "But if you bury your sadness under your skin instead of letting it out; what else can it do but grow in your veins, to your heart." -Nikita Gill

In life, we all experience these events that bring up emotions that are difficult and painful for us to feel. Then, we do what?

Add another layer of ego to cover it like a band aid?

....put another mask on?

Move on? Suck it up? Get over it? Hold grudges?

Forgive but don't forget? Get angry? Get even? Keep them a secret?

WE NEED TO FEEL THEM, BE IN THEM, LEARN FROM THEM, FACE THEM AND TRY TO FIGURE OUT A WAY TO APPLY THE LESSONS AND HEAL FROM THEM IF NEED BE.

Healing is hard work!

Healing is profound in terms of starving the ego! Not many realize that pain, sadness, sorrow, grief, guilt, abandonment and other low vibration emotions can be hidden behind that mask we wear! It isn't just instant gratification via sex pride ,flirting, compliments, likes on Instagram, Twitter followers, accolades and honors that feed the ego. There are other feelings we all face that we either decide to deal with or we try to hide them away. Maybe because it just plain hurts to feel them or maybe we think they'll fade away or lay dormant never to haunt us again.

I just mentioned SOME of the unhealthy ways we can respond to pain and sadness that feed the ego and not the soul my friends; things that cover them up rather than things that shed light on our issues. While working to truly know oneself we must allow ourself to feel every emotion we have; good and bad. This is what feeds the soul; knowing what makes you tick, what gets under your skin and why ; also recognizing whether your reacting or responding to people out of ego, in authentically or from your soul, out of love.

My goodness, sometimes it isn't pretty when we start shedding old layers ego. Sometimes it's like having nightmares only your awake and living in them. Often, it can be more painful to feel the feeling​s than experiencing the actual pain and hurt the event caused in the first place. However, covering up those feelings for the sole purpose of not feeling them isn't going to do your spirit one bit of good. In fact, it will further crush your spirit crippling you from fulfilling your purpose, knowing who you are and becoming who who are meant to be.

We're Conditioned to Lack Empathy...

Hear these as a child?

✋🛑stop your crying.....

🙏get over it.....

😭Crybaby.....

😪Big girls don't cry ......

😎boys don't have feelings...

🙄Suck it up......

✔️Be a big girl/boy

🤔I'll give you something to cry about.

These are the traditional societal norms we've been conditioned to live by; this is just the false self, hiding behind our emotions and trying not to ever catch feelings.

Fine, don't catch feelings. None of them stay forever anyway. Simply focus on recognizing them, feeling them come to you and then letting them flow past you. While you are having an emotion visit you try to be mindful about why you feel that way, what is the root cause, is it positive or negative? Did it feel comfortable or were you ready for it to pass? How long did it stay? Did you do something that made you feel another emotion instead?

After this pattern of behavior begins, the fed ego and its to toxicity begin to starve your soul, taking you away from your purpose and spirit early on. Often, negative self-talk begins here because though your following society's norm, hiding your feelings, your still feeling them. Therefore, as young children we feel guilt, shame and humiliation because we've been made to feel inferior, weak or sensitive for having emotions.

We further feed our ego and not the soul when we focus only on those events, activities and people that just make us feel good emotions. However, I want the long term benefits of emotional intelligence, don't you?

Instant gratification is what the ego seeks so we must be careful and ask ourselves when deciding, responding or reacting...

These statements so many of us heard growing up about crying being a weakness and hiding our feelings are pivotal moments in our lives. Moments in which many of us were conditioned to avoid feeling pain, sadness, grief or anxiety as opposed to being presented with a handling a life-event lesson or a discussion about what emotions are and how we can use them to evolve into a better version of ourselves.

The results of raising generation after generation in this inauthentic mindset is emotionally unavailable men and emotionally immature women; neither of which know how to communicate in a healthy way. In turn, we see marriages dissolve, friendships fade, family ties get broken. We also fail to forgive, empathize and show compassion to ourselves and others when we choose to hide behind our false self. When we hold emotions in they stay within us and soon become toxicity in our veins but bubbling and ready to erupt.

If so, let's ask ourselves if we are passing this habit of hiding the sadness on to our children?

Would it not be healthier to allow our children to be sad when they are sad and even empathize with them when they are?

We need to reverse that behavior, that choice! We need to choose US, our heart, our soul, our dreams and our healing.

So have the life events, feel all the feelings that come along, process them, get help if needed. Begin to heal from your hurts, don't just bandage them up. For things to change you have to change. Show yourself some love and let others notice the positive changes in you as you gradually heal and grow more emotionally mature.

....is this feeding my soul or my ego?

Also, what will the future or residual benefits of this choice be? If there aren't any, then you can be fairly certain that your just feeding your ego. Your soul may be malnourished and in need of some TLC.

When we choose to cover up pain or sadness, refuse to feel it and then not seek to heal or face the emotions we have..... they remain within us. They fester, they flow through us even while being ignored and they contaminate our actual authentic self and pull is further from our purpose. They remain there, feeding the ego, remember; the ego is who we want to be perceived as, our fake self. If you are a parent, please pause and take a moment to ask yourself if your are suppressing sadness from your own childhood that you need to process ; through the soul this time so you can actually heal.

That's how we can begin to raise kids that aren't ashamed to tell their parents how they feel. Lastly, parents don't hide behind your mask with your kiddos. If you have repressed feelings you need to process be real about it. Be the example. Be the parent you needed when you were that age.

Feelings are just that, feelings. You are going to have them, this is undeniable. When we hide them and feed them to our ever-starving ego , the ego grows; our fake self then grows more confident and the dark side of us, our shadow, gets stronger. Ego will consistently be pulling you further from your divine purpose as long as your feeding it. If you feed the ego , you starve your soul. You can't feed both, it's a choice.

We can all be out here starving the ego more, feeding our souls more nourishing content, living with more zest and having a powerful purpose if we'd be simply commit to peeling that mask off. We gotta stop hiding out inside ourselves; letting that let sadness and pain contaminate our soul.

What will you choose the next time you catch a feeling?? Ego or soul? Will you feel it or will you resist it?

Then, let that soul of yours shine. That's the good stuff!! That's where your purpose is, waiting for you to get Aligned with it!

Personal growth requires growing pains. However, nothing is more painful than remaining in a place you don't truly belong.

Karyn Dee

...FEEL IT TO HEAL IT AND DON'T QUIT YOUR DAY DREAM LOVELY!

#theintuitivewildflower

Love you bunches