#like i mentioned once before: achille got into a lot of trouble before he eventually ran off to ul'dah (probably when he was 18/19)

[sealrock]

SCOLDED.

ask meme

cw: depiction of corporal punishment

(ty for the ask @abalathia!)

The unnatural humidity clung to his hair as he sat by the riverbed. His clothes unpleasantly stuck against his skin, meaning he would have to take a long bath afterward. The now lonely moon peeked through the canopy every now and then, its white glow illuminating an old pipe held between shaky hands. The trees were silent. He scratched at the still-healing tattoo near his cheek. The evening song of cicadas, crickets, and toads grew louder as the minutes passed. Thirsty mosquitos bit into Achille's bare arms and exposed lower legs with vigor, leaving behind swelling welts as he contemplated in solitude. 

No one's around to see me, it's ok. 

Everyone else's doing it.

Nel and Nilo'ya keep making fun of me. They call me a bloody altar boy. They piss me off sometimes.

If this was so bad, why do adults smoke it? Seems to be pretty good, I'd imagine.

A warm summer night such as this, especially deep within the southern parts of the Shroud, should be spent listening to bard tales around campfires with friends and family—on any other day and not in the aftermath of an apocalypse, not hidden away in the thicket of the forest alone... Alone. That's how Achille spends most of his nights recently. His foster father, Chiron, began working evening shifts at the mines after they moved to Boughbury roughly a few moons ago to escape the permanent winter that fell upon the lands when Dalamud fell. But Boughbury was not home—home was up north, in the crisp, open space of Coerthas. Besides his two only friends, Achille hated Boughbury—and the feeling's mutual with the older locals.

Chiron wasn't due home until late into the night. Achille was independent enough to make his meals and look after the cottage, and Chiron trusted him not to make a mess of things now that he was older. Achille had his chores to keep him busy—clean Talona's pen, feed Talona, scrub the floors, wash and fold the laundry, and inventory the food stores. But menial tasks led to boredom, which quickly led to mischief, and Achille found himself leaving the relative safety of his home to partake in youthful disobedience—such as drinking, stealing, and smoking.

Achille considered robbery immoral, and drinking dulled the senses. He tried a mug of ale once, it was disgusting. His peers, those he tried to integrate with, would hurl all kinds of names at him for his perceived self-righteousness, and Achille would respond with harsher insults and physical violence. But Chiron raised Achille with concrete morals and beliefs, like a true monk he once was. Chiron refused to indulge in these activities; to indulge in the base excesses of man would be to sever the connection to the Destroyer. He raised Achille to follow the same beliefs: he must never drink, smoke, or use violence for the sake of violence. Chiron had broken the creeds in the past, and he toiled every day to make up for it.

Unfortunately, this would make Achille the target of social pressure; as the new kid on the proverbial block, Achille was an outsider looking in. Nel and Nilo'ya, fellow outcasts in the tumult hierarchy of adolescents, saw Achille as a kindred soul. They, too, followed the rules set by their elders... When they were being watched, of course. Nilo'ya, a rambunctious Keeper boy with a blinding smile, gave Achille the initiative after snatching his grandpa's smoking pipe and tobacco for Achille to try out.

While Nilo'ya tends to snort the stuff as dried snuff, he considered this to be "too easy" and that "the reward must equal the risk." Achille was reluctant at first, but after watching Nilo'ya make smoke rings as effortlessly as he skipped stones across the water, Achille was quick to change his mind. Alongside Nel, a lively Duskwight girl as tall as Chiron, they taught Achille the know-how of pipe smoking. His heart hammered in his chest with excitement, but Achille's stomach rolled with anxiety. He drew in a few deep breaths to steady his hands; Nilo'ya would cry if he were to drop his grandpa's pipe into the water and lose it. From his front pocket came out a tiny pouch of fresh tobacco; it reminded Achille of mulch.

As instructed, Achille carefully packed the bowl with at least three pinches and packed it down with his thumb. He tested the draw once, twice—it was just right. All that was left to do was light it. He took a glance behind his shoulders on the off chance there was someone nearby who could spot him. He had walked a suitable distance away from the village, and no one besides his friends knew about this particular spot in the woods. It's now or never.

He clutched the mouthpiece between his teeth as he struck the match, watching the flame sway in the light breeze of the night. His hand was still trembling as he watched the flame dance across the top layer of tobacco. He could hear Nel in his ear telling him not to inhale the smoke as soon as it hit his tongue, just let the vapors roll around in his mouth before he released. Nilo'ya said to draw in small puffs to keep the embers lit, or else he would have to relight. Achille blew out the smoke slowly. It disappeared into the night air.

Achille took another draw, and before he knew it, he was smoking as if he'd done so for years. The flavor was something to get used to, however. It had a bitter taste as it sat on his tongue, and it almost put Achille in the mind of Gysahl greens. How did Achille know what Gysahl greens tasted like? He ate some on a dare once; he had to clean up the vomit before Chiron came home.

Thankfully, Achille didn't get hit with a sudden wave of nausea. The tobacco, or at least the thrill of smoking, calmed his nerves and settled his stomach. Achille couldn't find any reason not to smoke now that he was doing it, displeasing taste aside. But, like all things, Achille would get too bold and disregard consequences. Thinking himself a master, he drew in a deeper puff he wasn't ready for. The smoke reached past his mouth, slithered deep into his chest, and burned his insides. Achille dropped the pipe as a coughing fit overcame him, his eyes stinging with tears the more he hacked and wheezed up the smoke, his throat crackling from the dryness. Desperate for relief, Achille took a few gulps of river water, careful not to let the pipe roll away from where it fell into his lap.

"Who goes there?"

Achille nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice—he knew that voice. He tried to speak, but his throat was still raw. A flurry of coughs spilled from his lips instead, thus making the voice come closer to his location. In his blurred vision, Achille could make out a large and dark figure in the low light, and it carried a small ball of light that swung from left to right with every footstep. Achille rubbed at his eyes to see Chiron standing before him, confused and shocked to find him sitting here in the dark. Soot and dirt dusted Chiron's clothes, and the lamp he carried cast a deep shadow across his face, revealing a drained appearance.

"Achille? Seven hells, what in the world are you doing out here this late at night?"

Achille couldn't answer. His foster father must've got off early, of all the nights. He could feel his face burn from embarrassment, his ears drooping from being found out. Achille tried to hide the pipe from sight, but he couldn't conceal the lingering stench of tobacco.

Chiron sniffed at the air. He narrowed his eyes, "What are you clutching?"

Achille hummed in ignorance. Chiron set his jaw.

"Show me. Now."

Chiron's tone of voice was something not to argue back to. Achille had only heard it a few times in his life, and he could count on one hand how many instances Chiron was this cross with him. Unable to talk his way out of this situation, Achille shamefully gave the pipe over to the now greatly disappointed man before him. Chiron's shoulders sagged as he inhaled a steady breath, his nostrils flaring and eyebrows pinched. Achille awkwardly rubbed at his neck, his mind flailing to find an excuse, an apology perhaps. But no amount of pious posturing would make up for this latest act of rebellion.

"Achille," Chiron started, voice low, "I raised you better than this. I've tolerated your behavior because I can understand what it's like; becoming a man in this world, especially the world we have now, is not easy. A boy's coming-of-age is full of many trials. But this crosses a line that I cannot accept. You have disrespected me, my rules, and my teachings. We monks must keep our bodies and minds unclouded, and we must be diligent in our pursuit to become one with the Destroyer. You have used our techniques for petty squabbles and disregarded our truths as fiction. It's dishonorable."

"But Baba, it wasn't me, it was-"

"Not," Chiron's eyes grew dark with rage, making Achille shrink back, "another word. You will go home, and you will wash off this taint... And you will prepare the salt."

Achille's eyes grew wide in fear. He shook his head in a panic as he began to plead and beg, but Chiron grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and ordered him to walk. Achille only experienced this punishment once when he was younger; he acted particularly ornery one day and said something he shouldn't have. Punishment was swift—kneel in a line of salt until his kneecaps bled. The monks in Ala Mhigo used this against new initiates to fortify their resolve, a type of thick salt that could cut through flesh. But Achille broke down after ten minutes in tears and wails. It was an experience he wouldn't forget for as long as he lived.

The second time around was worse. Achille had done what Chiron requested: he washed away the stench and prepared the salt. The whole while, he willed himself not to cry. His fifteenth nameday was approaching, and men did not cry. Chiron sat at the kitchen table, his face stoic and hands clasped on top of the wood surface. Dressed in his smallclothes, Achille stared down at the salt before he lowered himself on top. The pressure from his weight allowed the sharp salt to pierce the skin almost immediately.

Achille bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. His back stayed rod straight, and his hands were clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. His face started to turn scarlet from the pain, but he kept his eyes on Chiron with an unwavering stare.

"I hate to make you do this," Chiron had a tinge of guilt in his voice now, "but you know the rules, my son. You must endure it, embrace the pain."

My son. Spoken with the unconditional love of a parent. They weren't related by blood, but Chiron never saw Achille as anything else.

Achille wanted to cry. The more the crystallized salt dug into his bleeding wounds, the more Achille's resolve shrank. He felt himself double over, his nail-bruised palms flying out to keep him from falling facefirst into the hardwood. The fringe of his red hair kept his watery eyes hidden, but the tremble of his shoulders gave him away. The sob that threatened to spill from his lips caught in his throat; it was getting harder to keep his composure.

The dam finally broke when Achille adjusted his legs to keep the numbness away—the overwhelming pain was too much. His forehead met the planks of the floor as he wailed, tears and snot and drool staining the wood. Achille lost track of how long he stayed on the floor, but he wanted it to end. He screamed himself raw:

"Make it stop, Baba! Make it stop! Please!"

Before he knew it, Chiron lifted Achille into a tight hug, the air of the room cutting into his bleeding wounds. He openly sobbed into Chiron's shoulder much like he used to do as a child—he still was a child. Chiron shushed his sobs as he walked to the bathroom to clean and treat the wounds.

"You're alright... You're alright, my son. It's over, it's all over."

Achille continued to cry, breathless and wracked with exhaustion. He felt Chiron's hand card through his hair, making Achille curl into his chest in shame. Chiron held him close; he said nothing for a long while until he whispered:

"You may think me cruel and even hate me for this now. This seems fun for your friends, and you think I'm being too hard on you. But please understand, my son, I made a promise to someone when I found you: I promised to keep you safe. Don't give in to the temptations of man, for you will be lost. I wouldn't be able to live with myself watching you go down the path of wickedness. You will overcome this, I have no doubt."

Achille had calmed to sniffles as he listened, his eyes swollen and face splotchy. His head throbbed. He let the words of his foster father—nay, his father, sink in. He didn't have the energy to talk.

"Everything will come together in the end. I'll be right here with you. I love you, son."

Achille felt his heart stutter. He swallowed back tears and buried his face into the fabric of Chiron's work shirt. His words were muffled and small, but the message was clear.

"... I love you, too, Baba."

[goddessdoeswitchery]

Hellenic Polytheism 101 Transcripts: Pillar of Hellenic Polytheism Sophrosyne

Hello and welcome to today’s episode of Hellenic Polytheism 101, where we will be moving onto to the next pillar of Hellenic Polytheism: Sophrosyne, which is, essentially, moderation, prudence, self-control, self-discipline, or temperance based upon thorough self-examination. Since we are coming up on a holiday season in the US, this seems like the perfect time to focus on Sophrosyne, and to remember it’s opposite, hubris, and how to avoid it. It is also important to remember that even in Ancient Greece, it was well understood that Sophrosyne could be taken too far, something we also understand still today.

“Earth shaker, you would not consider me sophrosyne if I were to fight with you for the sake of wretched mortals” Apollo says this to Poseidon in the Illiad, as Homer brings us a look at what Sophrosyne would mean to the same deity who brings us the Delphic Maxims, such as know know thyself, know by learning, exercise prudence, praise virtue, nothing in excess, know who is the judge, keep secret what should be kept secret, take sensible risks, be well behaved, be self disciplined, be sensible. This is not the only example in Homer’s work of Sophrosyne. In fact, there are a really a lot of them. I would definitely suggest you read both of them and look closely for examples of sophrosyne. Homer was very sensitive to the need for Sophrosyne in society and in an individual. On an individual level, sophrosyne prevented people form getting into serious trouble, both with themselves and on a religious level. After all, someone exercising sophrosyne would be very unlikely to become a spider after being cursed by Athena, right? On a modern level, someone exercising sophrosyne is less likely to face personal problems as well. You won’t wind up drinking to excess and getting into a car accident. You won’t find yourself challenging someone better than you to a fight. You won’t find yourself taking on more tasks than you can manage. You won’t find yourself spending more money than you can spare on things you don’t need. By exercising sophrosyne you can avoid a lot of trouble. On a societal level, we should try to exercise that same self control and temperance. After all, there is no reason for any country to spend more than 56 countries combined on defense spending. There is no reason for a city to cut taxes and not invest in repairing roads or assisting those who need it the most. There is no reason for a group of friends to go out in the middle of a pandemic to a bar just to have a good time. We can bring the ideals of sophrosyne to our own lives and encourage others to do the same, through voting and talking to others and being an example.

When we do not practice sophrosyne, we tend to fall victim to hubris. For someone who has spent any sort of time practicing Hellenic polytheism, we should all know exactly how bad hubris is. We’ve all probably seen it or heard it online. Recently, there was a lot of talk of witches online cursing the moon, specifically aimed at making Artemis or Apollo angry. Now, in the end, it was revealed to be some big hoax, a lie they told to make other witches start saying things about how they could tell someone had hexed the moon because their own spells weren’t as effective. Then the original hexers could say “Ha! We told you witch craft and the gods weren’t real, see? These guys said they noticed a change but we didn’t do anything, so clearly they must be faking!” The whole ordeal was a perfect example of what could happen if people fell victim to hubris, and many more sensible folks online pointed out that it was hubris, believing anyone could have an affect on a deity by cursing the moon. We’ve all seen other examples of hubris. Hellenic polytheists who say that Artemis would never let a man worship her, or a straight woman, or a woman who has had sex with a man. People who gatekeep, projecting their personal bigotry onto the Theoi. We’ve all come across. Hopefully, most have us have rolled our eyes and ignored it.

Even in mythology, hubris is painted to be among the worst things a person can be. Niobe lost her sons and daughters to Artemis and Apollo after she bragged to Leto that she was better than Leto for having more children. Arachne, turned into a spider for daring to compare herself to Athena. Antigone’s father, who lost his son and his wife for believing that his life was higher than the law of the gods. Oedipus refuses to accept his own fate and wound up falling victim to it because of his hubris. Ajax, believing he was entitled to the armor of Achilles and being driven mad and eventually killing himself. Icarus, flying to close to the sun, too prideful to listen to his father’s warnings. Orestes taking it upon himself to avenge his father by killing his mother and being driven mad.  Greek stories are teeming with examples of people who have fallen victim to hubris. In many of these stories, sophrosyne is pointed to as a virtue to aspire to strictly to avoid it’s opposite, hubris.

And yet, we can also take sophrosyne too far. For example, in the Bacchae, Pentheus holds himself as a champion of sophrosyne, as fails to understand that by being overly self-controlled and self-discplined and holding himself up as the model of sophrosyne, he ignores the moderation and temperance part. He tried to force everyone listen to him, to oppose the Bacchic rites, and, in the end, his obsession with only a part of sophrosyne causes his own death. The Ancient Greeks understood that there was such a thing as being too controlled. There was such a thing as a fatal exaggeration of one side of the many-sided virtue of sophrosyne. Thus one of the biggest keys to sophrosyne is moderation. Nothing in excess says one of the Delphic Maxims, not even self-control and self-discipline.

As we go through this holiday there a lot of ways you can apply sophrosyne to your life. One of the dangers of the holidays is becoming over-extended. For example, I have a large family. Like…..over 100 people kind of large. So large that we could probably fill a high school basketball stadium kind of large. It’s also got a lot of different branches. Mom’s side, which has dad and mom in separate houses. My ex-stepdad, whose family we still see. My dad and his family. My dad’s ex wife and her daughter and her kids, who I’m also close to. My girlfriend. My kids’ dad and his family. I always joke that we’ve got our own little 12 days of Christmas skit between grandpa jones, grandpa long, Uncle Cody, Uncle Andrew, my dad, his ex wife’s house, my girlfriend, the kids’ dad, his family, and we’ve still got to squeeze out time for our own holiday celebration too. Factor in the fact that, like most customer service based companies in the US, my job doesn’t allow us to take more than half of Christmas Eve and all of Christmas day off. Sure, we’ve got the Sunday before and after when I’m off as well, but that’s barely 3 days for 4 states and 10 places to visit. Factor in the budget for all those places and all those gifts, not to mention the drama that comes around when we decide where we’re having Thanksgiving at and you can understand why I bring up being overextended as a danger of the holiday season. Now, maybe that isn’t a problem for you. Maybe you become over extended by volunteering to work too many hours to help your more Christian friends have time off. Maybe you offer to do too much during Thanksgiving and wind up having to wake up at 5 am to get started on a meal that you can’t believe you promised to cook. Maybe during Halloween, you spend too much time focused on parties or trick-or-treating and realize that you would have had a much better time sitting at home, watching Halloweentown with a bowl of candy and some friends. Either way, we all tend to push ourselves too hard, especially once the holidays roll around and we start wanting to do everything so we can get every experience. We need to remember sophrosyne during this time. Exercise self-control and stay home when it’s something you want to do. Exercise self-discipline and avoid getting gifts when you can’t afford it, there is no shame in saying “Look, finances are strapped and I can’t manage more than X”. Exercise moderation and remember that you can’t actually do everything. Be prudent and accept the reality of whatever situation you are facing. Practice sophrosyne.

Thank you for listening to today’s episode of Hellenic Polytheism 101 where we discussed another one of the Pillars of Hellenic polytheism, Sophrosyne. Today, I relied on the Odyssey, The Illiad, Sophrosyne: Self Knowledge and Self-Restraint in Greek Literature by Helen North, A Period of Opposition to Sophrosyne In Greek Thought also by Helen North, Mythology of the Greeks by George Grote, and the Wikipedia entry for Sophrosyne. Remember, all links to the resources I used can be found on my tumblr at goddessdoeswitchery.tumblr.com, along with a transcript of today’s episode under the tag “Transcripts”. I look forward to speaking with you all again on October 18th, where we will be discussing Eusebia.

[incorrigible-rapscallion]

A Serial Killer’s Guide to Men and Manslaughter -- SCRIPT (pgs. 30-44)

[pgs 1-2; 3-7; 7-14; 14-23; 24-30]

EXT./INT. DAVID'S CAR - NIGHT - TRAVELING

David drives throughout the town of Pleasant Grove at night. Achilles sits in the passenger seat.

David white-knuckles the steering wheel and gear shift as neon store signs and street lamps pass over his troubled face.

MONTAGE: DREAMSCAPE #2

David, once again, replays images of day's events--this time featuring his blind date dinner.

Key images that David focuses on are:

   -Thomas seated at their table, waiting for David to arrive    -Achilles rolling on the floor with oddly docile behavior    -Thomas with a cheerful expression    -Thomas with a concerned expression    -Thomas with a vacant expression    -Thomas cutting into the meal's tenderloin with a steak knife

This segues into another sequence of implausible scenarios involving Thomas killing someone during their dinner:

   -Thomas breaking Achilles' neck while the dog waits for a belly rub    -Thomas grabbing the Waiter's pen and stabbing it in their neck    -Thomas lunging across the table to, once again, strangle David

Like before, all of the killings are concluded with a flirtatious wink.

                                                                                              END OF MONTAGE:

David has stopped breathing and Achilles licks at his hand on the gear shift. David then pets Achilles' head, almost aggressively, as he calms down.

David notices that the lights are on inside the PLEASANT GROVE POLICE STATION as he approaches it at an intersection.

David abruptly pulls into the parking lot.

               DAVID        (to Achilles)    Let's do the fandango, buddy.

He exits the car with Achilles and single-mindedness.

INT. PLEASANT GROVE POLICE STATION - NIGHT

David enters an empty yet nostalgically-attractive lobby. It splits in two different hallways. There are small signs above each door that indicate each department, reminiscent of 40s-style administrative offices.

David zeroes in on the "Records and Evidence" sign. He walks forward confidently despite his shoes making squeaky sounds against the antique hardwood.

INT. RECORDS AND EVIDENCE OFFICE - NIGHT

David reaches a room not unlike a library, teeming with shelves of files. There is a WOMAN WITH BIFOCALS humming to herself at the back of the stacks.

David clears his throat. The Woman doesn't respond.

               DAVID    Excuse me, ma'am?

The Woman still doesn't respond, but instead shakes her hips at the song she is humming. Eventually, after an exaggerated lip sync performance, the Woman notices David with a start.

               WOMAN WITH BIFOCALS    Cheese and crackers!

The Woman comes forward to a banker's desk. Her name tag is upside down and reads, "Dotty."

               DOTTY    What can I do for you, honey bun?

               DAVID    I'm here to request any cold case files that you might have for missing persons.

               DOTTY    It's awfully late for something like that. Usually we need something first, what is it called...?

               DAVID    A release request?

               DOTTY    No, not that...Actually, yes. A release request.

               DAVID    Can I get one started then?

               DOTTY    No.

               DAVID    Why not?

               DOTTY    We don't have any, what did you say you needed?

               DAVID    Missing persons reports, specifically any that are on "Cold" status.

               DOTTY    We don't have any of those.

               DAVID    Any of what?

              ��DOTTY    Missing persons, cold cases.

               DAVID    I don't understand. You mean to tell me that in all of these records, there is not one missing person file? Or a cold case?

               DOTTY    No.

               DAVID    What do you mean, "no"?

               DOTTY    No, we don't have any missing persons. This is a safe town. Nothing ever happens here.

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON (O.S.)    What seems to be the problem?

Sheriff Livingston enters holding two coffees.

               DOTTY    Oh, nothing darling! This young man just wanted to see, what did you say you wanted?

               DAVID    Missing persons reports.

Sheriff Livingston strides forward and places one coffee on Dotty's table. She uses her free hand for Achilles to sniff before patting him on the head.

               DAVID    I think you can gather why I might want to look into them, Sheriff.

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    Please, call me Hannah. Everyone does. As a matter of fact, I wanted to catch you after the town hall last night. I was serious when we met at the park; I'm incredibly interested in picking your brain on the criminal mind. We don't get a lot of action here in Pleasant Grove, so it'd be nice to "talk shop," as it were, with someone from the big, bad city.

               DAVID    I just have an overactive imagination. Nothing special.

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    On the contrary, I think an imagination is something that is uncommonly special. Dotty can relate to that, right Dotty?

               DOTTY        (searching for her glasses, which she is already wearing)    Hmm?

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    But back to your request. You said you wanted to look at missing persons reports?

               DAVID    That man at the town hall seemed to think that the whole county is rife with unsolved crimes. Why would he so fervently believe that if, as you say, you don't "get a lot of action here?"

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    I've never seen that man before. I think that he just wanted to cause a controversy over pure speculation. It's possible that he was a journalist from Pleasant Valley wanting a scoop on us for whatever reason.

               DAVID    Regardless, I'm curious about the missing persons that he brought up. Dotty informed me that you don't have any.

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    That would be correct. All of our cases are closed. I've gone to great lengths to make sure that we, as a department, provide answers for families that are looking for them.

               DAVID    What does that mean?

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    We have a large forest and mountain ranges that are prone to landslides surrounding this area. This means that all the deaths and disappearances in our town have reasonable and natural explanations.

               DAVID    What does the State have to say about your lack of hard crime reports?

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    They've been more than understanding about our situation. We, quite tragically, had a fluke electrical fire break out in our old department building. All of our old files, including our former sheriff, went up with it. This room contains all the documents that we were able to recover.

David takes note of the singed file-folders on the shelves and Dotty, as she has gone back to humming in the stacks.

               DAVID    I suppose that is, as you say, a reasonable and natural explanation. Since you have nothing here to offer me, I'll be on my way.

               SHERIFF LIVINGSTON    As will I. I'd love to stay and chat, but I have some paperwork to take care of--burning the midnight oil today, right Dotty?        (Dotty continues humming and dancing)    Please don't be a stranger, David.

               DAVID    Likewise, Sheriff... Dotty...

David waits for Sheriff Livingston to leave. She doesn't, instead clearly waiting for David to leave first. They are at a standstill of manners.

Sheriff Livingston breaks with an amused smile and salutes Achilles as she exits the room.

David promptly pulls out his notebook from his back pocket and begins writing:

   "Sheriff--expert liar, covering her tracks?    "No records, no suspects, no victims    "Pleasant Valley?"

David exits but Dotty, who has been humming and dancing, removes her glasses and keenly watches him as he leaves.

EXT./INT. DAVID'S CAR/PLEASANT GROVE - NIGHT (TRAVELING)

David opens the door to the passenger side and Achilles takes his usual spot. David climbs in and stares out the windshield into the darkly lit park across the street.

He turns the keys in the ignition. He pulls onto the main road through town and glances over at Achilles.

EXT./INT. DAVID'S CAR/PLEASANT GROVE - DAY (TRAVELING)

When David looks back at the road, it is daytime.

He comes to the intersection that houses the Wright Place Butchery and the cafe at which the RHS ladies sit, kibitzing.

This time, David takes note of the RHS ladies ogling him. He grimaces and turns back to a city and mile sign at the intersection.

The sign reads: "Pleasant Valley 36 / Pleasant View 52"

David continues on, the scenery still as picturesque as before. Once again, David drives through winding roads on a mountainside. A beautiful cloud formation hovers in and around the area.

EXT./INT. DAVID'S CAR/PLEASANT VALLEY - DAY (TRAVELING)

At last, David enters the town of Pleasant Valley.

Unlike the quaint feel of Pleasant Grove, Pleasant Valley is upscale and styled after mid-century modern architecture.

David locates the City Hall and police station easily.

David parks and locks eyes with Achilles.

               DAVID    Let's go get some evidence, bud.

INT. PLEASANT VALLEY PD - DAY

This police station has an art-deco design. It is bustling with activity, but no one pays David and Achilles any mind. David navigates his way to the Records and Evidence department.

A SULLEN STUDENT wearing beatnik clothing and reading a pulp novel sits at the intake counter.

               SULLEN STUDENT    State your purpose and reason for existing.

               DAVID    Purpose? To catch a killer. Reason for existing? Still trying to figure that out.

               SULLEN STUDENT        (smirks, but doesn't look up from their book)    You're the first guy to actually give me an answer.        (finishes page and sets it down)    What can I do ya for?

               DAVID    I'm here to start a release request for any missing persons or cold cases that you have on file.

               SULLEN STUDENT    No need. You can look at anything you want as long as I supervise and the documents don't leave the building.

Sullen Student slinks off into the deep filing area.

               SULLEN STUDENT (O.S.)    Also don't take any pictures or scans of anything. You can take notes, I guess. And sign in, I forgot to mention that.

               DAVID        (signing the sheet on the desk)    What got you into police work at such a young age?

               SULLEN STUDENT (O.S.)    I needed the volunteer hours.

Sullen Student enters with a push cart of filing boxes and comes around in front of the counter.

               DAVID    Volunteer hours?

               SULLEN STUDENT    For Honor Society. I'm the president. Sullen Student goes back to their seat behind the desk and continues reading their book.

David sets up shop at a neighboring table and opens the first box labeled "Status: Cold. 2010-[blank]"

The file on top contains a supplemental homicide report.

               DAVID        (mumbling)    Let's do the fandango.

               SULLEN STUDENT    Whatever floats your boat, dude.

MONTAGE: GATHERING EVIDENCE

David focuses on the descriptions of the case. He starts a new page from the back of his notebook and begins copying down information.

Key phrases jump out:

   Mixed weapons used; unknown relationship to victim; unknown circumstance proceeding murder

David flips to the next file and begins creating a list of information with tallies for similarities between them.

Key phrases jump out from the other cold case files:

Cutting instrument used 

Strangulation used 

Blunt instrument used 

Hands, fists, feet, etc. used

All the files that David is interested in have unknown relationships and circumstances proceeding the murders.

By the end of the box, David has compiled a list with the most common methods used: strangulation and mixed weapons having the highest number of tallies.

David starts back into the stack again, this time making a list of the victims' occupations.

Key phrases jump out:

 Real estate owner

 Dentist 

Dairy owner 

School district superintendent 

County recorder 

Justice of the peace 

And-- most damning of all--the former elected city sheriff

David gives a shout of surprise.

                                                                                              END OF MONTAGE:

               SULLEN STUDENT    Whoa, you alright there?        (sitting cross-legged on the floor, petting Achilles)    I tried to ask earlier for permission to pet your dog, but you were kinda out of it. I get that way too sometimes. Hyper-focus and all that.

               DAVID    Hyper-focus... Could you tell me your perspective on what happened to the former sheriff?

               SULLEN STUDENT    What's it to you?

               DAVID    I'm catching a killer, remember?

               SULLEN STUDENT        (not so sullen anymore)    So here's the thing--no one believes me, but I think that this whole place, this whole city I mean, is corrupt. I'm talking mafia-level conspirators. It's the only makes sense. I've watched a ton of organized crime documentaries and there is definitely something shady going on here. For instance, think about all those files you just looked through--yeah, I've read them too.        (leaning forward intensely)    Almost all of those cold cases are eerily similar, right? They all have immediate dead ends. It's almost like the investigators didn't want to follow up on these cases. They're covering their tracks by sheer negligence. I think the last sheriff got in their way or made someone mad, so he had to get the axe. But everyone here doesn't seem to notice; they are all super happy with everyone's replacements. But not me, I see the truth of it all. And it's definitely the mafia.

               IRATE MAN (O.S.)    Don't tell me you're trying to convert yet another poor soul into your tin foil hat club, Casey Andrews.

Irate Man enters the room. He carries a folio and a stack of developed photographs.

               CASEY    Awww, I hadn't even gotten to the best part yet with the mind control chicken nuggets and secret bunker under the football field!        (taking in David's shocked expression)    I'm kidding. That would be crazy.

Irate Man greets Casey from the floor with a one-handed yet intricate secret handshake.

               IRATE MAN    Sorry, do I know you?

               DAVID    No, but we were at the same town hall meeting a couple of nights ago. In Pleasant Grove.

               IRATE MAN    Ah, right. I remember your dog. You probably remember my... cross-examination of Sheriff Livingston.

               DAVID    That's one word for it. You actually inspired me to investigate the missing persons reports in town. Or, lack thereof.

               IRATE MAN    It's freaky, isn't it? All those files and not a single missing person. Even though our newspaper here in Pleasant Valley has printed a number of disappearances and suspected homicides in the area. Strange stuff. Name's Mick, by the way. Mick McMillan.

Mick sets his folio on the desk and David stands in greeting.

               DAVID    David...Truelove.

               MICK        (shaking David's hand like it's a contest)    Huh, you should write bodice-rippers with that kind of last name.

               CASEY    Actually, he writes crime thrillers. He's pretty prolific too.

               MICK    A novelist, eh? I'm not too big on reading fiction, more of a "just the facts" man myself.

               DAVID    Understandable. Now, what do you think is happening around here? Casey says that it's--

               MICK    --the mafia, right?

               CASEY    Well, it is! You just refuse to see the truth right in front of your eyes!

               MICK    I'm interested in answers, that's all. I am a private investigator and I've been hired by a "concerned citizen" to uncover the systemic issues with all these supposedly solved cold cases. As cliche as it sounds, every town has its secrets. I'm simply attempting to unravel them.

               DAVID    Sounds daunting. But you also didn't answer my question. What do you think is going on? Mick shares a dark look with Casey.

               CASEY    Go on, tell him. He's legit. He's been pouring over these documents all day just like we both did.

               MICK    I think...that there is an active serial killer in this area.

David schools his expression and closes his notebook tentatively, hiding it behind some papers on the table.

               MICK    I know, I know, that sounds outrageous. Casey's mafia conspiracy is probably more likely to happen than a murderous psychopath rampaging across Pleasant county. But... actually, let me show you what I'm talking about.

Mick pulls a desk lamp over to his folio folder and takes out his stack of developed photographs. Casey and Achilles get up off the floor and observe what Mick has to offer.

               MICK    I listen to the police scanners as much as the next guy. But whenever a call is placed on any hard crime activity or disappearance, I try to head out to where the action is. This is what I have to show for it...

Mick selects a photo from the stack. It is of a crime scene, but the focus is on the crowd that is gathered around the cordoned off perimeter.

               MICK (CONT'D)    You know what they say about serial killers liking to stay behind and put themselves in the hubbub after the fact. Well, I've noticed that there are a couple of guys that could be our unsub...

Mick fans out other photos which he has circled familiar faces in red ink at different crime scenes.

All the faces are unfamiliar. Except for one--Thomas Wright. He is caught on film at three sites.

David breathes heavily and Achilles whines. He scruffs Achilles' fur in order to hide his reaction.

               MICK    I believe that these guys are the biggest break I've gotten so far. I've already met with two of them. They seemed pretty normal and had credible alibis for being sighted at multiple crime scenes. But I haven't ruled them out until I meet with the other three.

               DAVID    That's reasonable, I suppose.

               MICK    Say...you haven't noticed any of these fellas in and around Pleasant Grove, have you?

               DAVID    Sorry, no. I just got into town a couple of days ago. I'm taking care of some...estate things.

               MICK    Then I recommend that you keep your eyes peeled. I stay mostly on this end of the county but it would be nice to have boots on the ground in the Grove community, if you know what I mean.

               DAVID    I don't how much help a novelist will be then for your investigation. I was just curious about looking into a real mystery.

               MICK    Can't fault ya about that. Say, here's my number and email. Get in touch if you ever want to take your little mystery a step further.

Mick picks up one of the photos with Thomas' face on it and scribbles his info on the back.

David takes this as his cue to begin packing up the documents in their respective boxes.

               CASEY    Hey, don't worry too much about making sure it's all neat and orderly. I'll take care of it tomorrow. It'll give me something to do other than wait for the sweet release of death.

Casey places the boxes back on the push cart and takes them behind the intake counter. Casey turns off the lights to the filing room and closes down the intake window.

David hurriedly straightens up and waves goodbye before exiting with Achilles.

Casey walks back to Mick, who affectionately ruffles their hair.

               CASEY    Dad, you're ruining my cool! And I worked so hard at it!

Casey notices David's notebook still sitting on the desk.

               CASEY    It looks like Mr. Truelove forgot this. We should've gotten his number...

Mick inspects the outside and inside flaps for contact information.

               MICK    Hmm, no address... Oh, now that's interesting...

Mick turns to the page in which David had jotted down his initial observations of the shop owners when he first arrived in Pleasant Grove.

Mick focuses on the most important line:

   "Mr. Wright--serial killer"

[looselucy]

Twenty Eight - H

Harry’s point of view. I had missed the feeling of waking up beside Anna Black. I had missed the feeling of just being with her.

In the week where I moved into her flat, I grew more than accustom to her company, more than accustom to waking up and knowing she was going to be there with me. The tour bus and hotel rooms began feeling bare after only a few days. I fucking loved waking up next to her again. I quietly watched her sleeping, my mind still fried after what had happened the night before. I knew there was quite a bit of time before she would stir herself, and I took that time to think about my actions. What I’d done, what I should have done instead. I turned on my side, watching her intently. It was nice seeing her totally calm in her slumbering state. She hadn’t been having the easiest time of recent, and no matter how she tried, I could see how tense it had made her. Seeing her sleeping made me feel happy for her, she was in a state of calm, even if it was just for a while. As much as I wanted to wake her and enjoy her company once again, I wanted her to be peaceful for herself, more than I wanted to have her to myself. I placed a kiss to her forehead, before slowly and quietly removing myself from underneath the sheets, sleepily wandering over to my suitcase and throwing on a pair of sweatpants. I stood at the end of the bed and watched her for another minute or so, smiling down to her frame, before removing myself from the hotel room, quietly clicking the door shut behind myself, then making my way down to Louis’ room. We had an entire hotel floor to ourselves, that way we didn’t have to worry about anyone bothering us, or any extreme fans finding our rooms. The hotel wouldn’t even allow people on our floor, and it gave us a sense of ease. Before I even reached Louis’ room, the door before his opened, Zayn popping his head out and looking at me. “Morning.” I yawned, cracking my neck. He tilted his head, signalling for me to join him inside his room. I quickly did, stepping inside to see it was just him there. “Just wanted to see how you’re feeling?” He began. “I’m okay.” “Last night got a bit...” He trailed off. “I’m sorry, man.” “Why are you sorry?” “That you had to calm me down. I lost it.” “Mate, if I saw someone acting like that with my missus, you’d have to do more than calm me down. I get it. You don’t need to apologise.” I nodded, hating even thinking about how out of hand things had gotten, how that boy had spoken to her and grabbed her. Everything just switched so quickly; one second, I was dancing with Niall, the next I saw him push up to her body, her eyes seeming threatened by his movements. The anger I felt was gut-wrenching, simply witnessing him try to corner her, touch her. She isn’t fucking his to touch. I wished I could have knocked him to the floor. I wished I could have taken him down, but there would be a story about that without a doubt. With nobody really being hurt and us being in such a private venue, I doubted anything would come of it, it would remain between those involved. But fuck, I wished I could have punched him and have nothing come from it other than total satisfaction that the prick got what was coming to him. I ran my hand through my hair, trying to shake the thought of his smug face, trying not to get riled up again. “Management think she’s trouble.” Zayn spoke lowly. “I know they do.” I sighed, running my tongue across my teeth. “I’m working on it. The article about those pictures is out in the UK today. I think everyone can have… some sympathy there. Well, I hope so. I think people will understand how she actually feels about those pictures. That’s one step closer to them realising she’s not trouble at all. She’s actually… really sweet, y’know? I know she might not seem it, but-” “Nah, I can tell.” He nodded. “Once you get to know her… she’s not anything like what they make her out to be. She’s really nice, Harry. I kind of didn’t know what to expect when you said you had a girlfriend.” I laughed a little, chuckling to the floor as I thought about where Zayn’s mind may have gone when he thought about me having a girlfriend. Their views were skewered enough thanks to what happened with Kate, but as well as that, it was me. I avoided relationships, I avoided girls who wanted to relationships, the whole thing used to make me feel sick with fear and dread. I bet he thought I would show up with some girl who was clearly there for all the wrong reasons, on her part and mine. I was more than happy with how well they had all reacted to her. They all really liked her, and that meant a lot to me. “Besides,” I started. “Alex said he’s going to sort out some kind of behind the scenes thing for her when they do another video, so people can see what she’s actually like. If she wants to, that is.” “You care about her a lot, don’t you?” “You’re only just noticing?” I laughed. “I just never know what to expect from you, man.” He smiled. “I didn’t expect it myself to be honest, but she’s… I’m hooked on her.” Zayn quickly took me in for a tight hug, patting away at my back. I knew they were all happy I had found someone, that I had eventually met someone who made me happy, that I was no longer just flitting from one girl to the next, feeling nothing. I was grateful for her too. She made me feel something I didn’t think I would, something I thought maybe I could never feel. I had described her as a vision before, and I firmly stood by that comment. That was honestly how I saw her, this beam of burning light that had blinded me but made every other sense heighten. Her touch, her taste, her smell, the sound of her voice. I was infatuated with everything about her, and it was increasing with each passing moment. Zayn pulled away from me, giving me a firm nod. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He said. “I’m fine. M’gunna go speak to Louis, so I’ll see you later on.” We said our goodbyes swiftly before I left the room again, shutting his door behind me. I stood there in the hall for a second, not quite sure where my mind was as I thought about her. I often lost my train of thought when she crossed my mind. I moved along, next knocking on Louis’ door. “HOLD ON!” I heard from inside. I laughed and shook my head, hearing him stumble about inside as he dressed himself or something along those lines. Soon enough the door was swung open, Louis stood ahead of me looking absolutely exhausted. “Alright, angry boy.” He pestered, stepping aside and letting me in. I moved across his room, sitting in the chair beside the window and looking up to him with an apologetic smile. He rolled his eyes at me, going to sit on the end of his bed, waiting for me to speak. “I didn’t mean for last night to get so out of hand.” I mumbled. “I know you didn’t, but that guy was an arse. I chose to start on him, Harry, you don’t need to apologise.” “But if a story comes out, they’re going to pin it all on you!” I screeched. “You think that was managements idea?” He laughed. “You’re an idiot, Harry. That was totally my idea.” I looked to him with furrowed brows, wondering what he was talking about. He was amused by my baffled state, chuckling under his breath. “Louis?” I said firmly. “People aren’t going to believe some bullshit story about me starting a fight over a girl. The papers would lap that up if it was about you, it’s totally different with me. I have a girlfriend, they don’t attack me in the way they attack you. Of course it was my idea to take the fall.” It was big of him to do that for me. Even standing up to our management was a task in itself. Though what he said was true, it still said a lot to me that he would do that for me, that his name could be put in a bad light because I had lost my temper. “Why would you do that?” I asked. “Just makes sense, dunnit?” He shrugged. “Besides, I’ve never seen you as happy as when you’re with her. I don’t want management to fuck that up for you.” Sometimes I would forget how much I loved the boys. I would spend months with them constantly, and then on my breaks I just would feel like maybe I needed a break from them. I didn’t. They were my best mates, my brothers, the fact that I sometimes let that slip my mind was a quality within myself that I couldn’t stand. They had been there since I was sixteen, I had grown up and matured alongside them, and thanks to them. I was happy with the person I had become, and I literally had those four boys to thank for it. “Thanks, Louis.” I sighed. “Don’t mention it, man.” He smiled. “It’s not even worth dwelling on.” We both stood up, and I experienced my second hug of the day, having to lean down a little thanks to mine and Louis’ height difference. I told him once again how much I appreciated his actions, that I appreciated everything he had done for me and the other boys over the years. Louis was our rock, he had been ever since The X Factor days. There wouldn’t be a band without him, and we all knew it. He was the core of the group, the pull in the centre of us that made us work, the one who stood up for us when we really needed him to. So I continued to thank him, before stepping back outside into the hallway, sighing to myself. I moseyed back towards mine and Anna’s room, knowing that if she was still asleep I would finally want to wake her, beginning to miss her company already. She was my weakness. I figured this to be one of the biggest offenses and compliments. My Achilles Heel. She’d drawn me in with this initial idea that she was hard, dark, completely mysterious and utterly bewitching. But she was much softer than I had originally thought, kind and thoughtful and sweet and gentle. Dainty. I always thought of the word dainty when I thought of her. I wished she could have stayed, I wished there could have been some kind of convenience and ease with her tagging along for the rest of the European leg of the tour. But I knew it would only be just over two weeks after she left until I was back in the UK, back on home turf where she would be close to me. I couldn’t wait for it, to be honest. I quietly opened the door to see her still slumbering, the sheets tight around her body, like she was subconsciously gripping onto them, her fingers wrapped tight around the thick sheets. I wondered why that was, what part of her mind wanted to grip onto something, desperate to keep herself warm and comforted and safe. I wanted so much to be a source of happiness for her whilst she was in Paris with us. I had wanted to take her from the miserable state she’d been in and bring her some well-deserved happiness, but I felt like I’d done the exact opposite. She may have been good at covering it, but the truth was that Anna had been extremely sad of recent. Everything that had been going on was wearing her down. The articles about her that seemed to be getting more constant, the way she was perceived, the pictures that her ex decided he would share with the world. I really fucking prayed I would never have to meet him. I didn’t know what I would do. I crawled onto the bed, moving so that I was lying next to her, my belly flat against the top of the sheets, resting a hand under my chin, my elbow pressed to the sheets as I watched her for another couple of minutes. I was so incredibly fond of her, even without being able to see them, I knew my eyes twinkled a certain light whenever she was in my vision. I brushed at her cheek, stroking the back of my fingers over the soft skin. My heart thudded against its cage as she flustered. Even when she was asleep, my touch affected her body. Her grip loosened from the sheets, her lips changed their shape slightly, her skin became a little warmer and pinker, and she let out a heavy sigh. I am obsessed with this girl. I couldn’t control my lips as they edged closer to her, pecking her sweetly, but she still didn’t stir fully. “Anna.” I whispered gently. I ran a hand steadily through her hair, as she slowly began to wake.I loved seeing her in such a woozy state, caught between reality and her dreams. It prompted a certain memory, the time I had lifted her to bed, the evening after my mum had been around to visit me. I remembered it perfectly; watching her face intently, studying her reactions to me lifting her, how content she had looked. I knew that was the first time I ever thought she may have been special, the first time I ever felt my chest clench because of her. I remembered thinking fondly about the day I had spent with her, pondering over about how much I enjoyed hearing about her, how much she interested me. She left me a little speechless. I didn’t even know what I felt, I was baffled by her. That night, lifting her and pressing my lips to her forehead, I knew there was something between us. “Anna, wake up!” I smiled. Her lashes fluttered up, her blue eyes shining in the sunlight that beamed from outside. So beautiful. I didn’t even realise how wide I was grinning as she woke, her eyes looking onto my face as she shuffled, moving her woken body so she was comfortable. “Good morning.” I cooed. “Morning.” She groaned. “How are you feeling?” I asked, slightly concerned. “M’fine. M’good. I missed you.” She whispered. I moved to her again, taking her into a deep kiss, loving that she was awake to I could finally brush my tongue to hers. She took her small hands and ran one through the back of my hair, the other pushing to my cheek as I moved even closer to her, my body almost on top of hers as I pulled her closer to me. A thought suddenly crossed my mind that made me feel sick to the stomach, the fear forcing me bring the kiss to a bitter end, staring sadly down to her lips. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “Did I scare you?” “Wh-what?” “Did I scare you? Last night?” She kissed at the tip of my nose, making me hum in appreciation as I closed my eyes and let her comforts work their magic. “No, you didn’t scare me.” She reassured. “I know what I can get like, but… I never want to scare you, Anna.” “You didn’t. I’m glad you were there.” I moved to kiss her again, altering the sheets to reveal her beautiful body to me, swallowing the sides of her waist with my hands. She moved so she was on her side, lazily draping one leg over my hip as the front of our bodies pressed to one another. The more of her skin that was in contact with mine the better, I was always so desperate for her touch. I mumbled her name against her lips, almost like I was crying out to her, begging for there to be even more of her against me. I grabbed hold of one of her hands as we remained in a passionate embrace and made it so she was tracing down my back. She moaned appreciatively against my lisp. “I love it when you control me.” She grunted. I felt myself twitch, my dick beginning to rise for her. We had been with each other so many times, my feelings existed and grown for a few months, and I worried that as time went on maybe I would stop feeling so incredibly turned on by her and her being. But that wasn’t the case, I still thought she was the most sexual, stunning person I had ever encountered in my life. I was apprehensive our connection would falter, but it merely strengthened. All the fears that stopped me from wanting a relationship seemed non-existent thanks to her. All the things that I thought would make this difficult didn’t seem like issues. The only thing I hated was that I couldn’t constantly be with her. But the feeling I got when she got into the car the day before was indescribable, it was almost like it was worth missing her. “I love controlling you, Honey.” I spoke. “Tie me up.” She breathed. I cocked my brows and widened my eyes at her suggestion, bringing the kiss to an abrupt end, staring at her and waiting for her to speak again, just in case she had said it in the heat of the moment. I would never want to push her to do something she didn’t want to, because regardless of everything, she had such a beautiful sense of innocence about her. I was constantly surprising myself with how much I cared about her. “Honey?” “I want you to tie me up.” She said shyly. “Are you sure?” “Yes. I want you to tease me, and… and fuck me… and I want to want to touch you. But I want to be restricted.” I didn’t think I had ever wanted to pleasure her more than I did in that moment. I had never wanted her more. I was actually pretty sure I thought that every time the moment of us being together grew close, it always crossed my thoughts that I had never wanted her more. But hearing her speak like that, hearing her request that of me took me to another level. When she had first told me that she wanted me to be rough with her, she was so breathless and nervous. But this time around, she was slightly more confident about her request, and it was such a turn on. She bit her lip as she gazed up to me. “I’d do anything to please you.” I told her. And it was the truth. Anything she wanted, I would give to her. Anything she wanted. And she wanted me.

[foxes-evermore]

Hey,,,, if you wanna you know,,,, whip me some of that angst you got,,,, that could,,,,,, that could work,,,,, that could be cool,,.

listen,, im in physical pain and also am not able to sleep at the moment so im sitting up in the kitchen getting ready to eat a whole cheesecake and preparing to cry,,,, the angst hour is upon us,,, lets do it

if this is about the thing i said yesterday, the specific angst i was talking about was a Kevaaron Song of Achilles AU, which, im not sure if that’s what you were hoping for, but im emotional,,,, just @ me again if you meant something different sjksldjlksdf

anyway here we go its long im so sorry alksjlskdfj

I’ve said this a lot before but like

Sporty-Boy-With-A-Destiny Kevin Day

Boy-Whom-Was-Treated-Like-Shit-By-The-Only-Parent-He-Knew-But-Succeeded-Out-Of-Spite-And-Became-A-Healer Aaron Minyard

t his writes itself

originally….. listen… originally i was like “of course Riko is Paris and Ichirou is H*ctor,,,, and Jean is Helen”

bUT then i got to thinking

and i’ll be damned if the mcfucking USC Trojans aren’t the for real trojans

and like this adds a whole knew level of angst because like

hear me out, i want Jeremy to be Paris just because of the Jerejean™,, but in reality,, the boy is H*ctor. Honorable and Loyal to a Fault, and best of the best right after Kevin.

which also means that Riko is actually Menelaus, and Ichirou is Agamemnon. and that makes a lot of sense because honestly the tension between them and Kevin with everyone going “no, IM the Most Important, fuck you” is 100% there.

Back to the boys though,,

like here’s Kayleigh Day, a simple sea nymph whose only desire is to protect her son and also make sure he is remembered and worshiped forever,,, and young Kevin is so on board,,,,

meanwhile

Aaron gets in some Trouble for killing a man who dared to lay a hand on his twin brother, and Tilda is overly happy about getting rid of him for the crime, so she sells him to a king who is known for adopting outcast orphan boys for his army. Aaron never hears from/sees his mother or brother again, but ,,, he meets the stupidest boy he has ever encountered in his LIFE. the kid is an absolute IDIOT, but he is half a god and destined for greatness and everyone dotes on him. 

Aaron doesnt care.

Kevin does.

Why is Aaron ignoring him?? Why doesn’t Aaron fawn over him like the other boys do? why won’t Aaron pay attention? it’s frustrating but intriguing.

The second time Aaron gets in trouble with royalty, the king wants to know why Aaron isn’t training and sparring with the other boys. He doesnt care about anything anymore, that’s why.

But he still knows pain and fear, so he does the only thing he knows how to do when a superior is angry: he finds a small/dark place and he hides.

Of Course someone finds him, and OF COURSE it’s that talented brat.

Kevin drags him to the king because its the right thing to do, but instead of leaving him for the wolves, Kev is like “I choose him. as my brother-in-arms. i want him by my side at all times” and obviously the king is like “why” because look at this fucking tiny pale stick-boy,,, he’s not even 5 feet tall yet,,, will he ever even get over 5 feet?? (spoiler, the answer is no)

and Aaron is also like “????” and Kevin just smiles for the king and then gives Aaron this look that says “try to ignore me now, you piece of shit” :))

So these 2 spend some quality time together and for a long time it’s basically just like that one part in SoA where Achilles is training and Pat goes I stepped forward. ‘’fight me.’’

There’s so much bickering and whatnot and, just like in SoA, they don’t even truly realize they’re falling for each other until the Big Bad Ocean Mom comes and tells Aaron to fuck off and then sends Kevin away to train with the horse dad, Wymack, to keep him safe.

Aaron follows him and Kevin is like “I knew you would come :)” and Aaron is like “shut the hell your mouth” and they finish their journey together.

and they fall in L

they fall in Love on that mountain.

just two bois dicking around and experiencing foolishly strong emotions where no one can stop them.

But Then Aaron’s past that he conveniently forgot to mention catches up with him when men come to tell them that it is time to die to fight Troy. Kevin is an amazing warrior and it’s expected that he go to fight in the war, but Aaron can hear his own blood pounding, because he Remembers something that he hopes everyone else might’ve forgotten.

He’d made a promise to Jean of Sparta. not a promise. A blood oath, to go to war for the most beautiful boy in the world if something like this ever happened. and now it was happening.

Kayleigh warns him that if Kevin goes to fight the trojans, he’ll die, but she cant elaborate anymore, aside from telling them that Jeremy will die first.

Who can kill Jeremy, though? N o   o n e. Kevin is the only swordsman good enough to best him, and why would he kill the devout trojan prince? he’s an honorable man. an admirable man,,, in fact, Kevin has heard so much about him, and he adores the prince,,

and What has Jeremy ever done to him?

Kayleigh tries one more time to save her son, spirits him away to an island at night,, weds him to a beautiful princess named Thea, they promise her a child and in return she disguises him as one of her lady dancers whom she calls her “ravens”

Aaron finds him though, recognizes him, because he would know those green eyes a n y w h e r e.

Thea invites Aaron to stay, too, says that the three of them could work something out. The two agree cautiously and they start to get comfortable, incorporating Thea into this thing that used to be just them 

But eventually men come and find them,,, find Aaron,, and they’re dragged off to Troy to fight with Riko and Ichirou,, one man determined to bring back his caged lover and one determined to seize the city.

It’s exciting at first, in that “we could die any second” sort of way. everything happening all at once, arrows and spears flying, swords clanging, and fire on the beach.

but Aaron watches from day one as Kevin loses himself. the way comes back to camp the very first day of battle covered in blood and sweat and grinning like he just won the world.

Something about it twists Aaron’s stomach, but he pushes it down because there’s only room right now to be glad that his love is alive and that they’ve successfully arrived and that maybe there is hope and the war will end with both of them on the other side of it, going home.

The night after that first battle, Aaron sees a trojan girl being handed off as a spoil of war, probably to Ichirou or Riko, and demands that Kevin take her as his prize. Kevin is high off the fighting still and doesn’t really question this.

The girl’s name is Katelyn and she’s eternally grateful to Aaron, but even warier than he is of Kevin’s lust for battle and glory.

Anyway.

time passes. years. Aaron and Katelyn save as many of the captured girls as they can, and they make a family and they get close, and one day Katelyn admits that she loves Aaron.

he’s shook.

But he’s not as shook over her feelings for him as he is over her justifications for why they should be together and forget Kevin.

“He’s a monster,” she tells him. “He’s not a person anymore. He doesn’t love you, he can’t, because he doesn’t know how to love.”

and that can’t be true, but it is, isn’t it?

he only knows how to fight and kill. he only feels the need for glory, and nothing else, doesn’t he?

When did it become like this? When did Aaron lose Kevin? a few months back? years? the day they arrived at Troy? earlier?

had he ever even really had Kevin? he’d never had him to himself, at least, had he? It was always Aaron and Glory. Kevin was born to be remembered, and they both knew it. and Kevin wanted it more than anything, didn’t he?

did he want glory more than he wanted Aaron?

but it’s like Kevin is reading his mind,, every time Aaron has these thoughts, Kevin is there, on top of him, kissing him, holding him, touching him with these burning hands that leave Aaron wanting more, more, more.

he’s driving Aaron crazy and Aaron is fine with it because they have each other and they’ll be back home together one day and that’s all that matters.

and then Riko pisses Kevin off,

and the gods see this story and how it ends, and some laugh at the tragedy of it, and some hurt for the poor souls involved.

Kevin won’t let his men fight anymore, and the Trojans are taking ground back and hope is lost, but Riko and Ichirou won’t swallow their pride, and neither will Kevin.

Aaron begs. “These are our friends,” he says, “if the trojans just see you, they’ll retreat”

“You’re letting them die,” he tells Kevin from down on his knees, “you could save them. please.”

his lover’s tears are enough to snap Kevin out of his rage, but not enough to make him fight. 

“You dont have to,” Aaron bargains, “let me ride out in your armor.”

[lady-hammerlock]

Assassin’s Creed Rogue - The Novel - Chapter 10

AN: Chapter 10 already? Oh my goodness. Thank you to everyone who has liked or reblogged this story. Knowing you’re enjoying it really makes it worthwhile.

26th July 1757

Now that I had been given another taste of life on the ocean, this time as captain of my own ship, I was itching to get back out there, but to my disappointment, Achilles did not immediately assign me and Liam a new task for the Morrigan. Instead my men were given extended shore leave, many of them taking off to New York for a few days as I waited for Achilles or Liam to give me my next mission.

The others made sure that I kept up my training, although I wasn’t sure what else they had left to teach me. Sure, I wasn’t as good a sharpshooter as Liam, or as good at sneaking up behind people as Hope, but surely time and practise would see that change.

Liam and I had been back at the homestead for a couple of weeks when an unexpected visitor showed up. I had seen the warship pull into the port near the homestead, and even though I did not recognise it, I knew from experience that questions regarding her purpose there would not only fail to get me answers, but possibly get me chastised as well.

Achilles had sent Liam down to the docks to meet with someone on board. I will admit that my curiosity got the better of me, and I made sure that I stayed relatively close to Achilles over the next few hours, playing the dutiful student and taking care of whatever tasks he gave me, so that I would be nearby whenever our visitor showed up.

Eventually Liam returned along with a man whose skin was even darker than Achilles. Our mentor did not show affection to many people outside of his family and Liam, but he embraced this stranger like they were old friends.

I had been in the middle of chopping wood and talking to Achilles when the stranger arrived, and as the two of them met up I tried to look as though the axe and wood had every ounce of my attention, but in reality I was all too curious about our mysterious visitor.

The stranger, who Achilles addressed as Adéwalé, had come from the West Indies, where something had apparently gone horribly wrong. They didn’t get any further than that before Achilles suggested to his friend that the two of them should retire to the inside of the homestead, where they could discuss things further.

Achilles had not stopped to introduce the two of us. Liam had remained behind as our mentor and his friend had made their way to the manor however, and so I turned to him for answers.

“Who’s our visitor?” I asked him, hefting the axe over my shoulders and giving up any pretences of still being absorbed in the task of chopping wood.

“That’s Adéwalé,” Liam told me, as though I should recognise the name. “He’s a slave who freed himself and hundreds of his brothers in the West Indies. That man’s a living incarnation of the Creed.”

It was clear that my friend held a great deal of respect for Adéwalé, and I could not blame him. Our visitor sounded like the sort of man I wanted to get to know, the sort of man who was focussed less on meaningless ideologies and killing Templars, and more on actually helping people out and doing what he could to make the world a better place.

Liam invited me to join him in some sharpshooting practise, but I made my excuses, telling him that I would join him once I had taken care of something.

In truth the only thing that I intended to take care of was a bit of eavesdropping on Achilles and Adéwalé I wanted to know what it was that had brought Adéwalé to our humble little homestead. After all, he had mentioned some sort of trouble, and I wanted to know what that trouble was. So little was explained to me in those days, and I was thirsty for answers, even if it was only answers to this smallest, most recent of mysteries.

It was easy enough to sneak after Adéwalé and Achilles; easier still to crouch in a nearby patch of bushes as the two of them sat down on the porch of the Davenport manor and began to talk. Clearly they were more worried about getting comfortable than potentially being overheard, because they hadn’t even moved inside the house, and La Vérendrye was standing nearby at the end of the porch. If the two of them didn’t mind La Vérendrye overhearing their conversation then surely they wouldn’t mind if I also did.

“Tell me what happened old friend,” Achilles began.

“It was terrible Achilles. The ground shook and ocean waves crashed over Port Au Prince.”

“How many were lost?”

“Thousands. No family was left untouched.”

“I hate to bring up practical matters at a time like this, but did Mackandal’s man complete his task before the earthquake hit?”

“I cannot know. Vendredi has not been found. He was a strong Maroon, one of Mackandal’s best.”

The mystery of Adéwalé’s visit was becoming more and more interesting by the second. Thousands dead and a mysterious Assassin mission? This seemed important, and I could not help but wonder why this wasn’t being discussed with all of the Colonial Assassins.

I heard more talk, of temples under the waves, and mysterious artefacts that the Templars had taken. Achilles and Adéwalé were just starting to discuss what we should actually do about it when my eavesdropping was interrupted.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Hope asked me as she grabbed me by my hood and pulled me out from the bushes.

“So this business you had to take care of?” Liam asked me, and I swear even though he was smiling you could hear the disapproval in his voice. “It wouldn’t happen to be eavesdropping on the Mentor and his guest, would it?”

I shoved Liam away, but soon enough my trespassing was forgotten and Liam and Hope had dragged me over to the area in which we usually trained. I don’t think the others had heard what Master Achilles and Adéwalé were discussing. If they had then I think they would have been a lot more inclined to listen to me later.

I was chastised for missing the first part of my training, but it was soon forgotten as we got to work.

I spent the rest of the day having my skills tested by Hope, Liam and Kesegowaase, and afterwards Achilles sent word that he wanted to speak with me. I was at least a little scared that he had discovered my eavesdropping and wanted to chastise me for it, but instead he gifted me with a brand new set of pistols as a reward for passing all of the tests that the others had set for me.

It was while I was still in the process of thanking Achilles that Adéwalé sidled up alongside the two of us. The man moves as silently as anyone I have ever met. It wasn’t until he was right beside us that I knew he was even there.

“My ship awaits Achilles,” he murmured, not even acknowledging my presence. “The people of Haiti will make good use of your supplies. I trust you will retrieve what has been lost.”

They had included me in their conversation now, whether they had intended to or not. Perhaps I could find out more about what had happened in Haiti.

“Lost?” I asked.

I feigned ignorance. Surely it wouldn’t do to give away that I had been eavesdropping. Perhaps I could even convince Achilles to give me more information. I was not disappointed.

“The Templars stole two precious artefacts,” Achilles told me. “A manuscript of ancient wisdom, and a box that allows one to understand its language.”

“I have tracked the Templars as far as this coast,” Adéwalé told Achilles. He still did not even address me, even to introduce himself, but neither did he seem to care that I could overhear every word that he said. “But I fear the rest is up to you my friend.”

Adéwalé and Achilles took a moment to properly farewell one another, and then Adéwalé was off, heading back towards the nearby harbour, his business with our brotherhood apparently already over.

Achilles and I watched Adéwalé leave for a moment, and then Achilles turned to face me.

“Whoever controls the artefacts can access Precursor sites of power,” he told me. “We must recover them, or none are safe.”

This wasn’t the first time that I had heard about the Precursors or their legendary artefacts. Liam and Achilles had told me the basics at least; that the items were powerful, left behind, apparently, by some ancient race, and that we needed to keep them out of Templar hands. That was about it though. Even when I was holding them in my own bloody hands I don’t think I truly understood precisely how powerful and dangerous such things could be, at least not until it was too late.

Soon everyone at the homestead had heard about the earthquake that had destroyed Haiti and killed so many people, although fewer had heard about the Precursor artefacts that we had been chasing when disaster had struck.

A few days later Liam and I were given instructions to ship out to a destination that Liam knew but which I did not. It created a strange dynamic on board the Morrigan to have a First Mate that seemed to know more about our heading and purpose than the Captain did.

It wasn’t until we had already been sailing for a few weeks that Liam let me know what the plan actually was. I had assumed that our mission would have something to do with the Precursor artefacts and the disaster that Achilles and Adéwalé had been discussing, but I hadn’t known for certain until then.

We were discussing our destination when Liam let drop that the two of us were following up on the only lead the Assassins had on the Precursor artefacts Achilles had mentioned. At first I thought Achilles must have put Liam in charge of finding the box and the manuscript, and the Morrigan and I were merely taking Liam to his destination, but after very little prodding he revealed that I had actually been tasked with finding them, and Liam was just to act as, well, I suppose there’s no better term for what he was supposed to be than my babysitter.

Achilles had always trusted Liam more than me, but it still stung that Achilles had thought I needed Liam to supervise me.

I tried to shake it off however, and teased Liam about being Achilles’ favourite. It wasn’t the first time I had done so. It was clear that Achilles doted upon Liam, and cared for him perhaps almost as much as Achilles’ own son, Connor.

Our destination ended up being a small island fortress in the middle of the freezing cold North Atlantic. I was already holding little hope for this mission when I disembarked and approached the fortress, but as I ventured into the shadows of those high stone walls I spotted the one man who could, without a doubt, ruin any possible mission the Assassins might assign me.

Chevalier de la Vérendrye was standing not too far away, and conversing animatedly with a merchant about something. I doubted that his presence there was a coincidence.

La Vérendrye turned and smiled as soon as he spotted me, like a shark might smile when it spots its prey.

The Frenchman soon made it pretty clear to me that the Morrigan’s one and only task in visiting the fortress was to pick him up. A more loathsome task I could not imagine. He also told me that he had found our one and only lead on the Precursor manuscript. Apparently one of his allies had spotted the Templars as they worked on translating the curious text. The manuscript, you see, was impossible to read. Even the Templars’ best men could not make any sense out of it.

So La Vérendrye’s contact had seen the text and might know who held it now. It was a small lead, but it was the only one that we had.

La Vérendrye joined us as we travelled to Anticosti, and as we sailed he told me a little about the contact that we were going to meet. The man went by the name of Le Chasseur, and served as a spy for the French army and for the Assassins, and worked with the local pirates in order to dig up information. La Vérendrye seemed convinced that Le Chasseur’s true loyalty was to the Assassins, despite the fact that he was a pirate, and also worked with both the British and French armies. I was less convinced that he could be trusted, but he was the only lead that we had, and so I had no choice but to head towards Anticosti as commanded.

Travelling with La Vérendrye on board the Morrigan was a nightmare. He had a habit of insulting me and my crew every chance he got. There was no subtlety to it either, and no way that you could ever mistake his biting words for anything other than what they were.

I had to fight the urge to push La Vérendrye overboard more than once, and it was only Liam, and the thought of how the other Assassins might react to my having murdered a member of our Brotherhood that kept me in line.

The journey to Anticosti was a long one, and felt even longer because of La Vérendrye’s presence on board. We got into a few scuffles along the way, and while my men proved themselves and fought admirably, it was still not enough to impress La Vérendrye, who remained disagreeable.

It wasn’t just the Morrigan that made him prickly either. It seemed as though I couldn’t even open my mouth without La Vérendrye openly disagreeing with me, no matter what it was I said.

I suggested that perhaps we should talk to the Templars, perhaps work with them in order to solve the mysteries of the Precursor box and manuscript. La Vérendrye immediately dismissed the idea, saying that the Assassins and Templars would never be able to see eye to eye, his loathing for the Templars clear in every word that emerged from his mouth.

Wanting to improve the general mood on board the Morrigan, which had, predictably, been flagging ever since La Vérendrye had come on board, I suggested optimistically that perhaps Le Chasseur would have already translated the manuscript by the time we arrived in Anticosti. La Vérendrye shot the idea down immediately, acting as though I was an idiot for even suggesting such a thing, and this time, to my annoyance, Liam even joined in with him.

I knew that my crew was growing as sick of La Vérendrye as I was, and Ford even suggested that we should tip La Vérendrye over the side of ship when no-one was looking. I probably should have punished him for insubordination for saying such a thing. Vérendrye certainly would have demanded it if he had overheard, and if anything that made me more likely to forgive Ford his little joke. I chastised him, but did no more, and judging by the wink he gave me I think he understood that I was just as sick of our French guest as the rest of them.

When we finally arrived in Anticosti, I felt as though I would go mad if I was forced to spend any more time in La Vérendrye’s presence, but I already knew that before I could bid the blighter farewell I would at least have to wait for him to introduce me to the infamous Le Chasseur.

Our destination was an interesting one. The island seemed more like a fortress than a proper settlement, and it seemed as though everyone there was in some way connected to the Assassins or to Le Chasseur’s pirate allies.

Once I had seen to the Morrigan and her crew I set off to find my fellow Assassins, who had already gone ashore to meet Le Chasseur. With a little help from the locals and a little more from my Eagle Vision it was relatively easy to track them down.

The three of them were hidden away near the top of Anticosti, and when I stepped through the door they were already deep in conversation. La Vérendrye and Le Chasseur were chatting like old friends while Liam stood by and watched, mostly in silence.

I don’t think I had ever seen La Vérendrye quite as relaxed as he was around Le Chasseur. He smiled more readily as well. I realised then that he wasn’t cold and unfriendly to everyone that he knew. Apparently just to me.

They stopped talking when I arrived, and La Vérendrye was relatively well behaved as he introduced Le Chasseur and myself to one another, somehow even managing to resist the no doubt strong urge to insult me as he did. Le Chasseur was rather well-mannered and well dressed for a pirate, and I found myself taking an instant liking to the man, despite his association with La Vérendrye.

It didn’t take long before Le Chasseur turned the topic of conversation to our reason for being in Anticosti; the Precursor manuscript.

He described the manuscript as being written in a strange language, and full of plants and animals ‘out of an opium dream’.

“Were there no charts? No maps?” La Vérendrye asked.

“No,” Le Chasseur replied. “There may have been some kind of code, but neither I nor the Rosbifs could read it.”

I was beginning to wonder why the others thought the manuscript was so bloody important. As far as I could tell we had no guarantee that the manuscript was anything more than nonsense.

Liam spoke up for the first time.

“Where is the manuscript now?” he asked.

All that Le Chasseur could tell us was that the man who bought the manuscript had been sent by a man named Washington.

I knew the name. Lawrence Washington was an important Templar. Even though I had, at that stage, very little to do with the upper echelons of the Templar order, Liam, Achilles and Hope had made sure that I knew all of the higher ranking members; their names, their appearance and their place in the Order.

Liam confirmed my suspicions, thanked Le Chasseur and then hurried me out of the room, apparently eager to begin the hunt, or, perhaps, eager to leave La Vérendrye and his friend behind. Before long we were back at the docks and planning our next move.

“So what’s our next heading?” I asked Liam as we prepared to leave Anticosti.

“Wherever this Lawrence Washington docks his arse,” Liam replied, with a surprising amount of feeling. He had been so formal and uptight while La Vérendrye had been on board with us, but now he smiled.

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