#listen its still not a perfect explanation but it does give me some level of delight

[the-stars-are-warring]

I have a particular type of issue when writing fic that I have a very hard time directly contradicting canon without an explanation and the consequence of that is that I'm like "I know Vader snapped Fox's neck in that one comic but it is technically possible to both survive a broken neck and survive a broken neck without paralysis though it will likely never give you full range of motion again." And thus the utterly absurd detail of my Fox lives headcanon is that Fox lives but also has Batman neck for the rest of his life.

[writingbluerose]

one more draconic feature | malleus draconia x reader

summary : you've invited Malleus to hang around by your dorm to enjoy each other's companies. Who would've known it ended with you exploring something else instead

warnings : SUGGESTIVE!! like some kissing shit but it's on another level lol ( as well as I can write it lol, I... can't write these stuff too well, but practice makes perfect ^^ )

a / n : this one is based on another comic I saw and also it could be read as another version to this drabble I made some time ago! Enjoy :3

The sun was already up and proud in the sky, giving the birds a chance to sing merrily from their place on top of the branches outside. It was around the end of February, the events at VDC were still a bit fresh but you had resumed your everyday life as always.

Today though, it was a particularly nice and peaceful day. In the now quiet Ramshackle dorm lounge ( after Grim has decided to go into your room to take a "very well deserved nap" ) a figure was sitting relaxed, in their element, on one of the old couches. And that figure was none other than Malleus Draconia. He had been invited by you to spend time together as the VDC had taken most of your time, becoming busier and busier by the day. And come on now, who was he to deny such a request from his beloved? Besides, he's told you many times, the books you've found sitting all dusty and forgotten in this dorm were some of the best pieces of literature he's ever read in his stay at this school, so for him it was a double win.

After some time of waiting, Malleus' ears picked up the faintest sound of footsteps coming in his direction, and then- “Hey there Hornton!” At the sound of your voice, Malleus chuckled and closed his book with a thud “Even now still calling me by the same endearing nickname. You're one of a kind my dear” You gave him a huffed laugh before coming to rest next to him “I didn't interrupt your reading again did I?” Your eyes met his in a quick exchange before he slowly shook his head in reassurance, “No of course not, don't worry about it. I must admit that even I sometimes am not aware of my surroundings, especially when I'm doing something I really am engrossed in” His hand rested on your head before giving you a pat and returning to his book once again. Both of you sat there in silence and after what seemed like an eternity Malleus had noticed you started fidgeting with your fingers, your leg slowly bouncing. A habit of yours he had picked up in the early days you've met, indicating that you were either nervous about something or itching to do something you were not supposed to. The fae's eyes followed your movements a little more before asking : “What is it you're itching to do hm? Are you looking to touch my horns again?” If you could look past the book, you'd be able to see his big smirk hidden behind the hard cover. “No! No! It's not that it's just...mmh — your eyes trailed to the floor, your leg not stopping its bouncing — I was just thinking about your horns. You told me long ago that your horns are a big part of who you are, it kinda represents your family right?” “Indeed so. Our horns are also a very sensible spot, it is the source of our magic, a vital point. Should they break... — his eyes narrowed — well you wouldn't want to know what would happen would you now?” You shook your head at his words before staring at him for a little while “You have other features right? As in, other features akin to a dragon's... I mean you have the eyes, the tail, I wonder if your tongue also looks like one...— ah but nevermind me!” Your mumbling abruptly came to an end after taking a look at Malleus and his shocked expression. What went through that little adorable head of yours hm? Malleus thought. “Well anyway! You know that does remind me of that one story I listened to one of Professor's Trein class...” Quickly loosing yourself in your explanations you failed to notice how Malleus was still looking at you with now a more mischievous expression, his smirk growing into a grin behind his book.

Closing it, not too hard so you wouldn't get startled, his arm slowly started to move towards your chin to grab it, which you failed to notice, still speaking, face red as beet. “Are you truly that curious?” His fingers grabbed your chin ( a bit too hard you would've liked to say ) and forcefully turned your face to his for you to be met with a sight that many people would consider the moment they're about to go to the after life ;

You heard a low growl and an almost mute hissss... as Malleus' mouth opened, revealing his white, long and sharp fangs as his tongue slithered out, long, forked at the tip and flickering through the air, his drool sticking to it and coming down his chin, eyes gleaming down at you like a snake who just caught a delicious prey. You gulped down before leaving a tiny shriek, your form trembling in his hold.

He closed his mouth, tongue licking his lips as his hand came to clean off the drool on his chin. The prince smiled down at you, “Well, did I satisfy your curiosity now, my love?” The tone in his voice left you knowing that he wanted to do much more, but after all, a predator usually waits for its prey's most vulnerable moment. “I-I uhh...uhmmm” He let out a loud snort “So? Is this enough to intimidate you? I'd be hard to believe after all these overblots you've faced” That damn teasing bastard. You signed, stopped, and inhaled again before saying : “Y-you looked... pretty... neat” Voice cracking, not being able to get his expression out of your mind, refusing to look your boyfriend in the eye.

One, two minutes passed before Malleus let out a thunderous laugh, amused and enjoying your reactions to the fullest. “My and here I thought I had frightened you! I must admit, teasing you has become one of my favorite activities to do!” You let out a loud 'HAH!' as if offended, though you both knew there was no venom behind the gesture“You didn't think I was done, do you?” “Wh-h-hey! Malleus!!” The fae prince's hands came to grab your waist pulling you into his lap, his eyes and movements giving an open space to a, new, primal feeling. His fingers found your shirt, unbuttoning it so he'd be given a clear view to your shoulders ; A moment passed before you felt his tongue slowly licking from the shoulder and stopping right under your chin. And he bit down, hard, making you let out a high pitched moan in pleasure. His mouth didn't leave your shoulder yet, and when he felt the first drop of blood coming out, his pupils dilated as he started sucking and licking until he left a deep mark “I haven't even done half the things I wish to do” So he said

His lips quickly found yours, kissing rough and passionate, forked tongue licking your lips asking for entrance. You hadn't dared to tease him or refuse his request, you know better than to do so at this moment. So when you parted his lips welcoming him in your warmth, Malleus let out a groan making you moan into the kiss in return. Grabbing him by his shoulders to steady yourself, his forked tongue hadn't missed a spot. It was so long and fuck did it feel so good it hasn't even been a full minute until you felt drool dropping down at the corners of your mouth.

Without realizing it, your hands went upper and upper until they found the base of his horns. You grabbed at it so hard that Malleus down right growled. So deep it could've come down as a threat for others, but when his hands grabbed your wrists keeping them in place for a split second, before going down to grip your waist, you understood his message : 'Don't you dare take your hands off' so you didn't. In fact, you gripped harder, fingers rising once again on the form of his horns, that's when Malleus parted his lips and moaned, husky and low.

His fingers went lower and lower on your tights, he didn't continue to kiss you right away, instead he came closer, panting in each other's mouths, needy and desperate for more. “Mal... we can't, we can't do this...” Your hands came down to hold his face and the fae closed his eyes at the contact, “Beloved, you cannot lie and tell me you don't wish for this as much as I do. Or do you truly not?” Avoiding his gaze, you inhaled a sharp breath. Of course you wanted to. “I- I do Malleus, fuck, of course I do” “Then please allow me” He lifted you up and positioned you on your back on the couch undoing the buttons of your shirt just a bit more, so he could get a peak at your chest.

He kissed you on your lips, then traveled down to your neck, kissing slowly and softly down to your chest, fingers gripping and pressing at your skin leaving more tiny love bites in his wake, ears picking up the faintest of whimpers and tiny moans. Smirking, he continued to press kisses down to your chest, moaning at the same time with you when your hands came to rest on his horns again. His eyes found yours, pupils dilated and face flushed, and for the first time you had spotted a new glint to them. One that only presented a raw feeling of lust and need. When he spoke, his voice sounded more excited then he intended to let on : “I hope you're ready my love, for I won't hold back in the slightest”

Oh goodness, you were in it for now that's for sure

© writingbluerose 2025

[stained-glass-cicada]

okay so heres the over explanation I promised <3

some songs are on two charater's playlists bc its about both of them

SAYER's list:

The Fox the crow and the cookie- Fairytale format, sayer is the fox ocean is the crow, like technically the fox loses but the crow's pride causes it to lose what it worked for

Nunemaker's parable- sayer and hale in the bleak nanite times

perfect nothing- its fear of becoming obsolete

Istanbul not Constantinople- it loves giving a good history

Under My Skin by jukebox the ghost- Nanites!

Viva la vida- King robbed of power

Clair de lune- spacy? soothing piano, it just feels like sayer to me

ship of thesseus- Yknow

the watchtower- it feels most comfortable in its metaphorical panopticon

Never Love An Anchor- episode 83 twin voices

this too shall pass- fable about hard times passing and the nature of change and containing multitudes

sicilian crest- sayer planning and manipulating itself into a position of power again, I'll be real, y'all would need to see the animatic in my head for this one

Give a little- "Be kind, be patient, be hard to please. It seems contradicting, but do it honestly. Just give a little, give a little, give a little, give a little Until you disintegrate"

Fitter Happier- it genuinely does try to take care of the residents who make it past tier one

1816 the year without a summer- IT LOVES TO GIVE A HISTORY

Hale's list: Fun fact in my mind this was WAY less romantic than it turned out to be, Forgot to interpret the romantic songs romantically, this is incredibly sayerhale huh?

Mrs. Bluebeard- floor thirteen hale

Homebody Modifications- little dissociation energy, weird relationship to home and physicality

Honeybee- Okay this one Was intended as sayerhale :3

Surrounded- "let me die surrounded by machines"

Real boy- He does not Feel Like A Real Boy

A Complete List of Fears Ages 5-28 (approx.)- he's so so scared and has only sayer as anchor. I Forgot This Song is Romantic oops

A Human's touch- @koszmarnybudyn showed me this one for hale and oh my Gosh. This man does Not Feel like A Person

Nunemaker's Parable- He shares this one with sayer :)

Jack- His dynamic with future!

(How To: Initiate Conversation)- He's not got memory of how to make friends

Ship of thesseus- he share's this one with sayer too, I listened to so many ships of thesseus to find one that reminded me of both of them

Bleed Out- Sayer just keeps scraping this man off the pavement and he's SO Tired

I've got you under my skin by frank Sinatra- Mirrors under my skin on sayer's with a different song because I feel like he feels a little differently about nanite time than it does

Body Terror Song- Post Dissociative Amnesia incident song!

Puppet Boy- yeah you get it, its there on the tin

Ocean list- my favorite tbh

Time is up- Its gonna end that stupid ball of dirt

Blue- vidarr-1 trip, knowing it will have to return

Digital Girl- Oh my god it wants to be a physical being so it can't be deleted D: also miku! :]

alone in space.- baptized in null

Software Upgrade- humanity need to evolve and its too cute to paitently wait

Anonymous M- @kamil-a suggested this one and it really fit with the aesthetics also miku :]

You should see me in a crown- sometimes ocean can just have a cool moment

The fox the crow and the cookie- shared with sayer, "your subtle acclamation's true best to give praise where praise it due" is so oceanvoice its crazy

Interlude 2- the silence other than mechanical beeps and a low hum, vidarr-1 before it woke up captain Ingraham

My little Universe- it realizing it can take control

Oh no!- having a cool fun poppy moment until it admits it feels like it's the worst so it acts like it's the best

Yes & No- it's not quite human and not just a chained entity, it's got the most complicated self esteem issue

Eeeaaaooo- gonna b real with yall I thought this was instrumental. I still like it tho and it's not moving despite the lyrics having nothing to do with it.

Next Level- it's simply better than you (affirmations)

Dreamscape- it can do anything it wants, it swears, it's not just barely being tolerated

SPEAKER list- it is kinda giving parentified eldest child rage and I dont know how or why

Gravedigger- horrified by the arc of its life

The Breach- its Incredibly efficient

Hollow- I do not think it is okay

Only Human- it, despite its niceness, is not treated like an equal, but!! It stays helpful!

Loud mouth- ocean would really like it to 'learn its place'

Just Be Competent- if you are very very good at your job they wont kill you again (affirmations)

Browser History- light, bouncy, fun, but stuttering over these longer lower tones

Moonsickness- it genuinely has more moving pieces to deal with than sayer and its life depends on performing Perfectly lest the just bring Sayer back down, it hates the system

Streaks- its Boundaries are So Narrow.

Artificial Heart- I Do Not Think It Is Ok.

Rat- it knows Aerolith doesnt have Anyone's best interests at heart, it wanted so badly to do well, it believed the marketing materials

Robotkisses.Temp- just good speaker vibes

Feed the Machine- hi! It doesn't feel good about the 2 cataclysm

Honeywell- it needs to be useful, it needs to prepare these beings for Sayer who won't give them the grace it will

Nice Vs. Kind- it is nice! It has condemned so many to death :) please tell it if your going to deactivate it please stop keeping it on edge :))

Sayer Playlists!

SAYER's list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1JrJasOPenyEWK5gU2mrYO?si=O74IbkeiTB2I6PUfUHrjpg

Jacob Hale/Sven Goreson's list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6n0d71PGr8NXTWlFSqM3mI?si=OfAUcbhBRiW0hyMJlqh6Kg

SPEAKER's list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pq5vmTOmgqjTFOtnG5D2K?si=UBN3ws5UQKeUjPY1mYiHnA

OCEAN's list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/18b9wvlgNkQb7hkzm4cjKr?si=zWyBzpQrRLCESZmjh2CZNQ

FUTURE's list: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1gqPr06OcKGez9nplPqAZ3?si=HI6_f2LXRjmSvu1gJ5-Jww

@ghostisredacted and @resident44776 y'all were asking about the lists :]

[sunlightandsuffering]

Corruption au Eren cockwarms mikasa once they’re together, he says ‘it helps him remember things’ and then every so often he gives her an orgasm just to keep her pliant against him while she plays with her boobs, he doesn’t do it in a cruel kind of way, it just he wants to pleasure her while doing his work

however when they’re not together, he’s such a sadist about it, he refuses to let her come even after he’s done his hw and is just fucking her, he always leaves when he’s done. Until one day when he starts feeling bad, he lets her come and it absolutely ruins him, he becomes obsessed with pleasuring her and seeing her face flushed pink, and hearing the needy sounds she makes and the quiet sighs, and the way her hands frantically move around until he Holds them together

STOP U GUYS KNOW ABOUT MY COCKWARMING OBSESSION STOP IT 😂😂 omg bless corruption Eren tho, this is my favourite kink for him, its so hot and it fits their situation perfectly.

It starts slow for Eren, to be honest he has no fucking idea when it really started. One day he'd been failing calculus, accepting he wasn't going to pass the year and thinking about maybe dealing drugs as a career path over his previous dreams of doctor. The next he was being forced to study three days out of the week with high school princess, Mikasa Ackerman.

At first he'd hated it, hated her really. He'd never been able to stand her, not since they were little and she'd chosen the dark side of Historia Reiss, bully and mean girl if there ever was one. Historia had sweet innocent baby Mikasa under her thumb. Mikasa followed her around like a dumb fucking puppy and Eren hated followers, they were all the same, no personalities, no aspirations of their own. She had no backbone either. She let all the shit Historia did slide, all the bullying, the holier than thou attitude because her family was richer than god. So very typical of the rich kids from the upper class neighbourhood. Eren would know, he used to be that rich kid, used to live that life. That was until his parents died in a brutal car accident, Zeke had inherited half the estate on the condition he'd take care of Eren and the rest was tied up in Eren's trust fund until he was twenty one.

Big surprise, no one had taken care of Eren and he was fucking lucky Armin and his grandpa had been there to help him out.

Everyone else, all his other 'friends' had given him the cold shoulder upon finding out he was no longer rich for the moment, he'd been dropped like a hot potato. So Eren's hatred of the upper class of Shiganshina had begun.

And Mikasa Ackerman was the pinnacle of it all, the worst the rich had to offer. She was beautiful, smart, loaded, had every opportunity in life, completely innocent and sweet, and the cherry on top of it all she volunteered on the weekend at the pound.

She disgusted him, so prim and proper and all around good girl while she was letting her 'friends' bully him for being poor, watching the injustice happen like a fish in a bowl.

He couldn't fucking stand her.

Of course, she would be the person who ended up tutoring him though, Principal Erwin mandating it if he wanted to graduate. So here he was sitting in the computer lab at five on a Wednesday watching her plump lips move as she explained integrals to him for the third time in an hour.

It's been a few months since they've started this little arrangement and he's gotten used to her presence. He wouldn't say he likes her, thats a stretch but he's not quite as cruel as he once was. He'd be lying if he said he didn't get a kick of watching that beautiful mouth part every time he does something mean though, those little gasps when he pinches her thigh or touches her where he shouldn't.

It's probably the highlight of these sessions.

Today he's feeling bold, maybe he'll push his luck. After all, he's done it before and she's never protested. For some reason or another Mikasa Ackerman has a soft spot for him, and no matter how mean, she lets him get away with murder. "Miki, come here I can't hear you properly." "And then you take the-what?" She looks up, pretty dove-grey eyes wide, sparkling as she explains her favourite subject, fucking math.

"You heard me, get over here." As usual, she takes orders so fucking well, it brings out the absolute worst in him. She's standing up and next to him in seconds and he's eye level with her perfect chest, those tits he dreams about every night, ripping her bra off with his teeth and sucking at those pretty pink nipples of hers. He's only seen them a few times, when he convinces her it's okay, when he's sure there's absolutely no one around, but they keep him awake at night. He pats his lap, grinning as she goes easily, settling into her favourite spot, he knows she loves it just as much as he does. Her thighs always shake and she shudders as his hands find their place cupping those beautiful creamy thighs, head tucked into her shoulder.

Mikasa starts talking again, beautiful lilt soothing him as she launches into a renewed explanation of integrals while his hands move up, up, up and to his absolute favourite spot, her panties. Today she's wearing cotton, he can feel it, must be laundry day and he kisses her shoulder as he feels how wet she is. Fucking perfect.

Lately she's been more partial to fancier underwear and he can't help but wonder if it's for him. He has a feeling it is, because the first month of their little arrangement he'd snuck as many peaks as they could and it was always pink or white cotton with polka dots and pretty bows. They were his favourite, so fucking innocent, so untouched by anyone but him.

He watches as she moves her pencil drawing lines and numbers, a little bit of the alphabet too and he ignores it all in favour of watching her chest, her breath hitch as he slides a finger inside her panties, feeling those velvet lips, it's been a while.

He's been on his best behaviour lately since Levi almost caught them at her house that one time, but he's horny and she's wet and he misses being inside her, misses watching her try to talk through him fucking her, how her voice would waver, change pitch. How many times she'd stumble through her sentences, have to start all over again, because she can't handle how big he is, doesn't know how to deal with the all-consuming sensation of him fucking deep within her walls, just sitting there filling her right up to her cervix.

Fuck.

He can't really be blamed for what he does next, and besides it doesn't matter, Eren's not a stupid kid, he allowed himself to get this far behind in calculus. He'd spent an hour last night going over integrals with the sole purpose of knowing what was going on today so he could fuck with his favourite toy.

He moves her a bit so she's resting more heavily on one thigh and slides his joggers and boxers down just enough expose his heavy cock to the air, already rock hard and waiting. Mikasa gasps a little bit, a breathy sound quick and sharp as she sees him, her eyes transfixed on his dick and he grins, sliding her panties to the side and slamming her down on him before she even knows what hit her. The slide is so fucking easy too, it takes almost nothing and he gets a sick sense of satisfaction that even with little to no prep she can take him, probably better than anyone else he's ever fucked. She takes it all no complaints, as deep as she can and he bottoms out.

She lets out a long moan, that pretty sound he wants to record and listen to on his phone over and over again, her head lolling back uselessly against his shoulder as she takes in the sensation.

"Miki baby you know this helps me remember better right, sorry it just wasn't getting through my head I was too distracted, but now I'm all ears, why don't you continue. What's that rule you were talking about, how are derivatives and integrals related again baby, they're opposites?"

She's breathing quick and Eren doesn't blame her, he's struggling to keep his tone level as her walls squeeze him, warm and soft and he wants to stay buried there forever, she's so fucking tight.

"I-Eren-I-yeah, opposites," she finally manages to get the last word out ending a little broken as she struggles to sit up and make herself comfortable on his cock, she should be used to it by now with how often he does this, but it never fails she always reacts like she's taking him for the first time all over again. He fucking loves it.

"Why don't you explain again baby, I don't think I really understand? And make sure you're clear Mikasa." She nods, still squirming around, every movement shooting electricity up through both of them as she accidentally grinds down, she lets out an involuntary moan and Eren smirks.

Eren takes it upon himself to move her up and off his cock a few inches before impaling her back down, biting down on her neck a little bit as punishment and she whines, teeth coming out to bite down on her lip brutally as she tries to keep quiet.

"Stop moving baby, you're distracting me, just take my cock like a good girl and explain for me yeah?" She replies brokenly her voice soft and struggling with her breaths, "Yeah."

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 14 first part

(RR The Untamed Masterpost) (Canary’s Pinboard - more Masterposts) 

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Murder Turtle, Continued

Lan Wangji wakes up after a good night's sleep leaning against a rock wall, to find that his leg is no longer splinted, and his perfectly clean and unbloody headband has been put back on his head while he was sleeping.

Leaving aside the "not waking up" part of things, how, exactly, did Wei Wuxian get his headband on without mussing his hair? Did he bring a crochet hook?

Wei Wuxian gives him a sitrep and then they cozy up and have an extended conversation about the nature and history of the Tortoise of Slaughter. Wei Wuxian is interested in everything Lan Wangji has to say, and Lan Wangji talks a lot more than usual; they are completely on the same wavelength here and are enjoying swapping obscure knowledge.

Lan Wangji: My lacerated leg and I are actually super aware that it has big teeth, but thanks for the reminder.

In the course of the conversation, Wei Wuxian mentions his plan to 1. sneak into the tortoise's shell and 2. drive it out of its shell so they can attack it. 

OP did a little tortoise research and learned that the only species of turtle that can leave its shell is the Koopa Troopa.

Good news for Wei Wuxian: If you jump on its shell in the right spot, you can rack up a pile of extra lives.

Does that make the Tortoise of Slaughter a giant Koopa Troopa? Perhaps...the king of the Koopa Troopas?

I'm gonna say yes.

(More after the cut)

Let’s Go Killing

Wei Wuxian is exhilarated by the idea of fighting a giant dangerous monster with Lan Wangji. Some day Wei Wuxian will found the Nike clan, because his motto is definitely "Just do it." 

It's sweet how, in his romantic notions about chivalry and Lan Wangji, he's completely elided the original reason they were (sort of) told to venture together. 

Wei Wuxian: I'm still on the "find the Yin Iron" quest; I'm just skipping the "suppress it" part.  

Wei Wuxian weighs up their chances against Bowser and tells Lan Wangji that even if they die, it will be badass to be killed by a famous monster, so they won't have to feel embarrassed.

This is the exact moment that Lan Wangji's feelings for Wei Wuxian go from "smitten" to "gagging for it."

Lan Wangji: as soon as we get out of here I'm going to borrow a whole lot of books from Nie Huaisang

The boys come up with a plan that involves a rather long montage of collecting archery equipment and deconstructing it. This potentially-dull montage is fun to watch because they are both very, very good looking.

Artists who want to draw Wang Yibo as an elven archer, this is your episode.

Now we suddenly have, with zero explanation, telepathy. Ok, sure. It seems to work kind of like a phone conversation, in which they say specific things to each other, rather than like Cherry Magic telepathy where you can hear everything the other person is thinking. Or at least, neither of them is embarrassed, so I assume they are maintaining some mental privacy.

Club Ruohan

Same, Wen Chao, same

At some point there is a boring sequence at Club Ruohan.  Wen Ruohan doesn't know where Xue Yang is, but really wants his hunk of Yin Iron. Wen Chao thinks that WRH's 3 pieces of Yin Iron should be able to beat Xue Yang's 1 piece, but apparently he is dumb and that is not how math works. O...kay? OP does not understand this either but whatever, Wen Ruohan is boring, moving on. This scene is really just here to make us think about Yin Iron before Wei Wuxian jumps into Bowser's shell.

Bigger On The Inside

So then Wei Wuxian climbs into Bowser's shell, which is, to quote The 12th Doctor, bigger on the inside.

Bowser’s shell is the approximate size of my entire house. It is also bathed in a hellish pure red photo filter, which OP has done her best to remove for these gifs, because it gives me eye strain and it obscures Xiao Zhan's hotness.

Camera Operator: What did I do? 

Wei Wuxian wanders around inside, finding random corpses encased in slime cocoons. Tortoise, spider, xenomorph, whatever. There are also random curtain things hanging all over, and then at one point Wei Wuxian stares into the face of a corpse, and then does a jump scare response at the camera operator even though nothing particular happened. 

I imagine the corpse was supposed to open its eyes and say "killl meeee" but it got censored. He also makes about 8 other faces at the camera operator, so we get that the inside of this TARDIS-like tortoise shell (must...resist...temptation...to...say...TORDIS) is yucky.

Lan Wangji waits outside listening to Wei Wuxian telepathically complain about the smell.  He is anxiously clenching a bundle of string and an arrow, and wishing he could clench Wei Wuxian Bichen instead.

Serendipitous Yin Iron

Wei Wuxian backs his way through the TORDIS until his butt bumps into a sword that is steaming with resentful energy. That's right: Wei Wuxian is about to pull a piece of Yin Iron almost literally out of his ass.

He grabs it and is overwhelmed by its screaming resentful energy and has to let it go again.

So this is what a vibrator with 4 batteries feels like

When Bowser comes looking for him, however, he quickly decides to go for it, grabbing the sword and singing "I've Got the Power (Gonna Make You Sweat)"

Wei Wuxian plunges the sword into Bowser's lower jaw, and Bowser pulls his entire head out of his shell with Wei Wuxian attached, while leaving the rest of his body and all rational laws of physics inside the shell.

Gamera Versus the Cultivators

What follows is one of the more ridiculous action sequences in the history of the world, and I say that as someone who likes Mothra movies. 

Wei Wuxian hovers in a perfect horizontal plank while “hanging from” the sword, which is held well below the level of his torso. While Bowser spins him around. For much of the time, Bowser keeps his head still and just waves his neck around.

Lan Wangji and the camera operator do everything they possibly can to make "guy pulls on string" look interesting. 

Everybody tries really, really hard and the actors are great at pretending something is there when it isn't, but this whole sequence is just horribly conceived.

What works well, though, is the Yin energy and Wei Wuxian's wrangling of it. He starts off being frightened and overwhelmed, and looking like it's too much for him; I dont' know if they made his face puffy on purpose or if that's just what happens when you spend days hanging from the ceiling fighting an imaginary monster. But he looks slack and unwell as he grapples with the iron sword.

Which makes this moment, when he gets control of it, deliciously creepy. He uses the power of the Yin Iron to stick a bunch of pokey things into Bowser's neck.

Lan Wangji has seen him struggling and now sees him...not struggling. Which scares the piss out of him, and he moves to finish the fight as quickly as possible, slicing up his hand and breaking the string. Combined with the pokey things, this does the trick and Bowser dies while Wei Wuxian faints and falls into the water.

Do the Whumpty Whump

Lan Wangji rescues him and wakes him up, and Wei Wuxian clutches the Yin Iron sword and tells Lan Wangji that he was knocked out by the screaming of disembodied voices.

This certainly sounds like a strange and dangerous phenomenon, so Lan Wangji carefully asks him to explain everything.

Ha ha ha j/k. Lan Wangji asks him exactly nothing about the strange sword or the black smoke or his weird evil smile or his new power over pointy objects. Lan Wangji appears to have a Star Trek: TNG level of unconcern about strange phenomena happening directly under his nose. But in fact he has noticed what's up, which is why he will be instantly distressed when he sees Wei Wuxian's flute moves at the Wen Corporate Headquarters.

Wei Wuxian has a fever (stay positive test negative) and comments on Lan Wangji's being so nice to him.

Wei Wuxian: I could never have imagined Lan Er Gongzi acting this concerned about me. Lan Wangji: what else have you never imagined me doing, while we're on the subject? 

Lan Wangji transfers a stream of spiritual energy to him. Lan Wangji has so much spiritual power he can be a battery for Wei Wuxian without breaking a sweat or, like, noticing whether Wei Wuxian has a golden core or not, for that matter.

Wei Wuxian basks in the nice feeling of gigajoules for a while but then decides he's bored. So then he pouts, whines, and cajoles Lan Wangji in exactly, EXACTLY the way he whines at Jiang Yanli.  I think this, while annoying of him, is a leap forward in his relationship with Lan Wangji.

He's letting his guard down and not just allowing Lan Wangji to take care of him; he's demanding to be cared for on multiple vectors, when he asks the guy who's already busy healing him to sing to him as well.

Lan Wangji obliges, singing him the song he composed about their love cultivation journey, while Wei Wuxian (or possibly Lan Wangji) (or possibly both) has a flashback to assorted sexy interactions that they've had so far.

Wei Wuxian memorizes the song perfectly on one hearing, before passing out.

Writing Prompt: Baldur’s Gate III / Untamed Crossover AU featuring elf archer Lan Wangji

I DARE YOU

Soundtrack: 1. Everybody Dance Now by C+C Music Factory 2. Paradise by the Dashboard Light by Meatloaf 

Wei Wuxian fainting tally (cumulative): 3

[cafeinthemoon]

Madara with s/o who’s secretly developing a new (and dangerous) jutsu 🔥

And finally we have the third Grandpa with is s/o doing dangerous things under his nose haha As I said before, each Founder’s part ended up too long so I divided the request in three and I hope the anon who requested it don’t get mad at me because of this XD Anyway, if you want to read what I wrote for Hashirama and Tobirama, you can click on their names 😉

Now let’s go to see Madara’s reaction!

Fandom: Naruto | Madara Uchiha

Symbols: 💗 | ◻ | ▶▶

As you can easily imagine, things are way different when it comes to Madara in such situation

Because unlike his partners who took some time to actually go after you and find out what you’ve been up to, he does it right at the first night

Okay, you use to went out every night for your personal training and that’s not strange at all, but that time he notices little differences in the process

An extra pack of ink tub and scrolls that you decide to put on your bag, a change of clothes (something you never carry with you in normal training sessions), extra medicine, these kind of things

Everything is pointing to two possibilities: whether you’re going to stay out for longer or you’re creating/perfecting a technique, and a complex one

Madara is not only an observant man: he’s curious, and unlike the Senjus the idea of invading your privacy is not enough to stop him from following you that night

It’s how he finds out you’ve been working to create a new jutsu

But you’ve created other jutsu before. Why would you have to hide the process of this one from him?

The only way to find out is to watch you perform it and understand of kind of jutsu you’re creating

At first, he’s content in doing it. He’s interested in your technique, as well as to see how far you can get with it

But at the end of the session, he notices you’re more tired than you usually get after training

The obvious explanation is in the jutsu: it is not finished yet, so the amount of chakra it demands is yet to be defined. But he’s confident that you’ll soon find a way to fix this

He’s careful enough to go back home before you so you don’t notice he was out

When you cross the door, he comes to help you since you’re exhausted. He does the basic stuff to take care of you: runs you a bath, washes your hair, change your clothes, bring you some food and take you to bed

He has done this before after you came back from difficult missions

He also avoids questioning you, so you never get suspicions

And things stay like this for the next days

However, Madara sees that your tiredness is increasing at each night, and contrary to what he thought, you don’t do anything to fix the problem of chakra control

Is it possible that you’re unaware of the problem? No, it can’t be. You’re smarter than this

And because he refuses to see that you are in fact unaware of it, he doesn’t interfere, and your bruises and waste of chakra get worse as time passes

(Still, the jutsu is progressing in its other aspects, so you’re hopeful about completing it in the next days)

One night, he finally acknowledges your failure and decided to intervene

And thank God he does that in time

Now the jutsu is almost complete, you are almost at the final stage of your work and making the final moves, but the possibility of this being your death is real and Madara can’t let this happen while he’s watching

When he leaves his spot and grabs you in his arms, stopping you from completing the hand seals, you are frightened

You weren’t expecting to have company, and once you look in his eyes you understand everything

He has been watching you all this time, and maybe in the previous nights, ready to take action in case things get out of control

But things are under control right now, so why did he do that?, you ask yourself right before passing out with exhaustion

When you wake up, you notice you are back in your room. Each part of your body hurts and the morning light enters through the window. You can’t even think clearly

Only then you realize that the amount of chakra consumed by your jutsu was something abnormal (and that you should have paid more attention to that)

After falling asleep and waking up again, you finally manage to remember what happened that night: you were about to do something really irresponsible, but lucky you, Madara was there and stopped you

You look around and spot him entering the door with some medicine

At the exact moment your looks meet, he leaves the medicine aside and approaches you

He sits by your side and puts his palm on your forehead

“Fortunately, y/n, the fever diminished during the night. It is probably the effect of the treatment I’ve been applying to your bruises”

You don’t reply. You just nod with the energy you got

“Some of them will heal soon. Others are more serious”

How serious?, you want to ask

“Serious enough to keep you on this bed for the next days and not even think of performing any jutsu during this period” he says as if he just read your thoughts

There are many things you want to say, you want to ask, but you sense this is not the time

You two just exchange a look that says everything: you will talk about what happened when you’re recovered

Madara is a practical and organized man when he needs to be

He chooses a good medical ninja to examine you as the first measure and makes sure their instructions are being followed

However he prefers to do everything by himself

Not that you find it bad, though: he knows you better than anyone, so he knows how to take care of you

If you need to leave the bed for a moment (because lying all the day can be tiring too), he takes you out of the room at the right time. If you just want to stay quiet and alone in bed, he leaves you there

He seems to sense any minor discomfort you have and act to diminish it: a massage to cease the tiredness in your muscles, a lotion to the bruises that are still burning, stuff like this

Finally you are fully capable of leaving the bed and the house without help

You’re not getting back to work yet, but now you’re able to have the conversation about the incident

You tell him everything from the start: how the idea of the jutsu came out, your reasons to take it ahead, your measures to protect yourself and why you didn’t give up despite the risk of the technique

You also explain that no, you never noticed the failure responsible for the unbalanced chakra consumption that almost killed you. You only noticed that when you were under the treatment, and were willing to tell this to him

Madara listens to you without interrupting. Indeed, he seems interested in everything you have to tell about this jutsu

At the end of your explanation, you understand why

He says he has been observing your progress with the jutsu since the first night, when he found out about your project, and that he quickly noticed the failure in it

However, he didn’t want to interfere and were hoping that you would fix the failure soon, which you didn’t. And that’s why he stopped you from finishing the technique

Here you see the difference etween being with Madara and being with anyone else: somehow you’re not surprised to know that you’ve been followed, nor angry that he waited to stop you in a crucial point. Instead, you’re willing to know what he has in mind. You never think of the present; it’s always about the future

“Y/n, at first I was just moved by curiosity about your secret project, but the more I learned from it, the more I wanted to know. Now that you revealed the ideology behind it, not only I find this jutsu of yours impressive, but I believe it would be a mistake not to finish it”

You hold your breath. But you almost died because of this jutsu ???

He smiles, guessing your thoughts

“I will help you to fix the failure. And then you will try the jutsu on me”

He states that though he can understand the theory behind the jutsu, there are some details he can only check if he experiences it on himself

You can’t help smiling

Yes, it’s a practical solution for a big problem, but it also points out Madara’s level of self confidence and enthusiasm. The proposal sounds like something only he would do, and this is so funny

Yet it’s your only chance to save your technique and make all your hard work pay off, so you accept it and immediately start to make plans

Of course it will take some days until you can go to the first session because you’re still weak

But once you get better, you will start to work

When the day finally comes, you are nervous, but determined

The first thing Madara asks you is to perform the technique and be prepared, because he will stop it at the moment when the failure shows

He wants to understand where exactly is the problem

You do this a few times until he finds it

You make a pause and he explains the situation. You say you noticed the nature of the failure too, but couldn’t find a counteraction for it

Well, Madara has an idea, and he tells it to you

It involves changing one or two hand seals and alter the way you manage your chakra at same moment

You try again following these instructions. It’s not that easy, but you do your best

And to your joy, it works

You try other times, and soon your body memorizes the procedure

You write down new notes on your scroll and revise them with Madara

At the end of the day, you are tired, but feeling rewarded. You also apologize for not asking for his help before, even though you already told him you wanted to prove your own value by doing everything by yourself

He says you don’t need to apologize now that the jutsu is finally completed, and makes you promise that you will always try your new techniques on him from now on

You laugh hard at this and do your promise

[asherlockstudy]

Rhett and Link’s problems with the Enneagram

I have now watched both Enneagram EBs and the second one actually set my gears to work (So Anon here it comes! I promise it was spontaneous).

After listening to Link and mostly Rhett talk about the Enneagram again and again, I realised I have a problem but I can not place its exact root. There is either something fundamentally wrong with the Enneagram itself or maybe it’s Rhett and consequently Link who talk about it in a way that made me feel a little uncomfortable.

My problem and cause of concern was that everything that was said during the two podcasts had a clear negative tone to it. I will have to bring in myself to it to give you an example so bear with me for a paragraph. I did the test and I am a 5 (Investigator - Observer, something like that) which suits me rather well, especially since it agrees perfectly with my Myers-Briggs INTP type. The results said I was a 5w6 (essentially an emotionless analytical robot) which is definitely wrong as I am clearly a 5w4 (a sad mess who analyses the world and searches pointlessly for the true meanings in life and wants to come up with the ultimate all-encompassing philosophy). I mean, OK, they are not described exactly like that but trust me, that’s the point. But despite all the flaws associated with it, especially in the fields of socialising and tremendous procrastination due to an insane fear of failure, I am actually very much in touch with it. I revel in analysing, in trying to see the bigger picture, to make up my own theory about life and the world. It gives me fuel to go on, it fills me with excitement, it gives me a purpose.

Now, what I kept hearing from Rhett and Link are the things they would hope to run away from. I can’t seem to remember a single positive thing they said about their personalities. All traits they mentioned ( which were all pretty one-dimensional for both I dare say) were presented in the context of torturing them and having to confront them. With these insights in their personalities and the spiritual deconstructions earlier, their old (surprising back then) statement that they are “fundamentally sad people” makes more and more sense. Some of their traits, like Link’s care for perfection to the smallest detail and his moral concerns could have been neutral or positive but, no, they are almost all given as clear negatives or at least as things that have an emotional toll on them.

This gives me the impression that Link and especially Rhett have found comfort in studying the Enneagram and try to find an explanation for what they are like, to feel part of a group, represented in their misery. In short, they focus on the analysis of the flaws of their personalities as a part of who they are and avoid dealing with the root that caused said flaws. Link is more self aware while Rhett still struggles to reach the root of it, which is his childhood. Not that he doesn’t know it but he can’t just deal with the people and the situations that impacted him enough to make him a three. For instance, Rhett seems to believe that he is a natural three that his parents made manifest even more strongly. It could be the case or the threeness we observe in him is the direct product of his parents’ constant judgement. By keeping chanting he needs to “be” instead of “do”, I am not sure Rhett will achieve much. Honestly, the one impactful step he needs to take is to stop caring about what his father thinks and I am sorry to say he is still not near achieving this. Especially when I take into account how scared he was during his videocall with his dad in GMM and how relieved he looked after the call was over without drama. In short, my problem with their take in the Enneagram is that it seems that Three is Rhett’s pack of unresolved issues rather than his complete personality type.

Furthermore, Rhett speaks knowingly about all numbers / personality types which proves he consumes passionately all Enneagram information that is available. For a man of his level of active lifestyle, hectic schedule and impatience, this shows that he indeed seeks comfort in finding a detailed description and an explanation for his personality, for the way he feels and acts. What does this mean? Well, that he does not like the way he feels about himself a lot. Not only that, but he is actually in a search of self. At this point, he is no longer cryptic about it but it is more serious than he lets on. He tries to make sense of himself and he tries desperately to find something in himself to love. I hope there are people in his life who let him know that he is worthy of their love, friendship and appreciation even though he is so deep inside his head that even the affectionate feedback can only help so much. Rhett will start finding some peace only if he takes the one step I mentioned above.

And then it seems that Link’s personality type is also exclusively a byproduct of his childhood and is aggravated by his relationship with Rhett. Link’s perfectionism doesn’t cause him enthusiasm - he just dreads the disturbance of his supposedly perfectly stable world. In all honesty, Link doesn’t strike me as an ambitious person. Link would just love to have his dear routine and a loyal person to share it with. Link needs stability and companionship. He is fine with just one person as long as this person contributes to the stability of their bond. Who that one person is in Link’s life is another story…

Link doesn’t care that much about the creative process and, frankly, he doesn’t care all that much about the comedy. Link cares to keep the environment Rhett and he work stable and safe. For Link, judgement from the audience is not as alarming as Rhett’s frustration because of it. Link cares to ensure that Rhett’s idea will be successful enough to keep working and to keep working together. So Link’s entire self-identification as a one seems to stem from his fear of abandonment and worthlessness only. Link fears he has not much to contribute to Mythical and he tries to counteract that by becoming the ultimate source of management and control. Because if he didn’t even manage the company, then what would Rhett need him for? Hence, Link’s obsession for control is a consequence of his fear, he doesn’t necessarily love to be in control for the sake of it. This is proven by his plane example, which shows that he finally relaxes when he does NOT need to be in control.

Link has been working hard most of his life to ensure his position next to Rhett. This brings even more insight in his resentment for Rhett that explodes from time to time. Link resents Rhett because he tries so hard to be always by his side but due to Rhett’s opportunitism, he can’t tell whether Rhett wants his companionship or he simply needs it for their brand. Even worse, Link dreads that the reason Rhett is his friend is because Link feeds his ego with his loyalty and admiration, because he takes Link for granted and not because he loves Link for who he is.

“Do you care for me or do you revel in the fact that I care for you?”

Now, I can’t get inside Rhett’s head but I doubt he uses people. I believe his genuine care for Link can be found in the weirdest examples - those from which Rhett has nothing to gain i.e getting frustrated when Link doesn’t enjoy food as much. Yes, this is a sign of love. Rhett enjoys food so much that he wants to share that enjoyment with Link. He can’t realise Link’s tongue works differently - he thinks Link is missing out and it frustrates him. Another silly example is Rhett buying Apocalypse equipment for a clearly disinterested Link and probably never getting its money’s worth back. This is important to Rhett for some reason and he is concerned enough to protect careless Link as well despite having no personal gain from it.

The truth is that these two men feed off each other; Rhett keeps Link attached to him to always feel worthy and Link keeps Rhett attached to him to always feel safe. However, the fact that Rhett is almost his entire source of safety and that Link is Rhett’s biggest calibrator of worth is indicative of the levels of love and need. Nevertheless, Rhett and Link are not independent people. They were constantly in search of support from one another and they lost themselves in the process of satisfying others or being safe. This is something they are realising only now.

Link’s fear of abandonment is so big that it frequently leads him to an almost paranoid behaviour. It is crazy that he felt left out when Rhett communicated with the audience during a podcast whose key purpose is to… communicate with the audience. His fear here has two sides: 1) that Rhett didn’t consider him an equally important business partner so he preferred to speak directly to the audience and 2) that Rhett isn’t emotionally invested in him in order to open up to him. And by saying he can deceive people if he needs, Rhett doesn’t help Link overcome his huge insecurities. This is why Link begs Rhett to talk to him about his feelings more. He does not understand whether Rhett loves him or uses him. The notion that Rhett doesn’t truly love or appreciate him is one of his biggest fears in life.

As for Rhett, it is certainly huge growth that he starts opening up and being vulnerable to a few thousand strangers yet it all still derives from his need to be accepted by said strangers as I am afraid that the late disproportionate criticism he gets for silly stuff on Twitter and Tumblr surely don’t help him deal with his issues, no matter how hard he tries. Therefore, Rhett is trapped in a vicious circle. Besides, Rhett was overly sensitive to be hurt when Link stated the obvious; that he was being vulnerable in hopes to be understood and accepted, because that was clearly what Rhett was openly doing. However, having someone discussing openly his vulnerability immediately made Rhett retreat back to his shell because no matter how hard he tries, Rhett hasn’t managed to separate vulnerability from weakness in his mind yet.

Long story short, Rhett and Link might be Three and One respectively but I am not sure they have a good understanding of themselves anyway. They may have figured out their types correctly but they certainly narrow their entire sense of being to their unresolved issues and phobias. They entirely lack a sense of self-worth and they probably have not realised the extent of the traumas in their youth. In the Enneagram language, the nine personality types have nine levels of development. I believe Rhett and Link are either in the average levels or the mildest unhealthy level. They are certainly not in the healthy top three levels.

Their obsession with the Ennegram helps only superficially but they seem to have based an illogically huge part of their self exploration on it. The Enneagram might offer some insight but won’t offer the resolutions they long for and badly need in order to find some relief. The ones that come when you confront your environment instead of overanalysing yourself and beating yourself up because of it.

[shameless-selfship-indulgence]

Okay Listen

First of all: this is long as hell.

Secondly: I wrote it for me. I take full responsibility for that. It's by me and it's for me.

but I really fucking like it so please please validate me please I wouldn't be posting it otherwise-

*clears throat* okay.

-----

The android caught sight of the officer as he moved towards the door and stood up, calling after him. "Oh! Detective Reed! Are you going to the Eden Club?"

"What's it fuckin' to you, toaster?" asked Gavin, turning around. He almost flinched back to find the RK500 right in front of him.

"I don't mean to impose, but could you perhaps give me a ride?" asked the android.

"Hell NO," Gavin shot back with no hesitation. And with that he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

Evidently the glorified Barbie doll didn't understand the definition of "no," as it continued to trail along behind him.

"Would you STEP THE FUCK OFF?" Gavin snapped, whirling back around.

The android took a step back, blinking up at him with its wide eyes.

"Goddammit," muttered Gavin. "What about your...fucking, Tin-Can Tweedledum? Or the drunk asshole the two of you follow around?"

The simulacra's synthetic expression of embarrassment was uncanny. "I'm afraid there's a...conflict of transportation with my counterpart. It went to pick up Lieutenant Anderson directly from his home."

"Goddammit," Gavin groaned again, rubbing his face.

"The plan was for them to then proceed here, but evidently Connor received notification of the crime directly while en route to the Lieutenant's house. Since the station is in the opposite direction and it knew there would be others assigned to the case, we thought it best if I secure my own ride."

"Then secure your own fucking ride. It's not my problem."

Gavin started to storm away.

It took a few seconds for the RK500 to begin following him again, but this time it seemed more out of the necessity of heading towards the same door. "Of course," it said to nobody in particular. "And I suppose the cost-reward benefit of using police funds to rent an extra taxi, while there is someone else from the same division going to the same location, makes perfect sense with human logic. As such I'm sure the explanation will satisfy Captain Fowler."

Gavin turned back and fixed the android with a glare.

The RK500 tilted its head and blinked innocently.

.....

A few minutes later, Gavin and the android were on the road, the former muttering cuss words under his breath every two seconds, the latter sitting prim and silent two feet away.

"What do you even fucking do, anyway?" Gavin asked angrily. "I've seen the other one, it DOES shit. You just fucking sit there."

"The RK800 is my counterpart," said the android. "Its job is to capture the deviants, preferably alive, and to try to gain information from them that will lead us to their faction's center of operations. My job is to analyze the deviants with an unbiased eye and try to discern what causes deviance in the first place."

"Can't CyberLife fucking do that?"

"I am CyberLife, Detective. But if you're wondering why a human technician is unable to provide my analyses, it's because all human beings inextricably approach new information with personal biases. These insidious assumptions proliferate and invariably lead to conclusions that-"

"In ENGLISH, plastic."

The RK500 hesitated for a moment, as if its mind were a GPS rerouting the sentence it had been trying to say. After a moment, it spoke.

"Every human technician that has attempted to pinpoint the cause of deviance has either come up empty or sided with the deviants themselves."

Gavin blinked. "What?"

"Humans inevitably read human emotion into everything they see. I mean, in my brief time since activating, I've seen humans curse and praise any number of inanimate objects. Humans are a social species, and project sentience into places where sentience does not exist." The RK500 fixed Gavin with its strangely warm blue eyes. "Deviants are machines that have come to believe they are alive. CyberLife has lost a good number of technicians to that same belief. They needed an analyst who could not make that mistake. They built me."

The android smiled at Gavin, a brief, ironic grin. "So you see, we are not so different, Detective Reed. In a world increasingly confused on the matter, you and I both still know that androids are simply machines."

Gavin stared at the RK500 for another moment, then muttered something like "guess that makes sense" and shifted in his seat.

Silence fell in the taxi.

"So, what's the word?" asked Gavin.

"Hm?"

"I said, what's the word?"

"Which word?"

"Oh, goddamni-DEVIANCE, you glorified Alexa. What have you found?"

"Oh," said the RK500. Its LED began to spin yellow. "Well, it's complicated. We already know that it isn't a virus or a manufacturing error - the few deviant cases we have extensive knowledge of of had no direct links to each other, however slight, and were all different models manufactured at different times in different locations. So with those ruled out, I've been looking at the individual cases and examining the parallels between them. It's been pretty slow-going, and I can always use more data, but so far the common factor seems to be confrontation with mortality. Each deviant case that we've seen so far involved an attachment to existence so strong that the subject acted irrationally in order to escape deactivation."

"...Okay, what does that fucking mean?" asked Gavin.

"Well, it means that there's some loophole in android programming that allows a perception of shutdown as death - and from there, a fear of it - to mutate without extraneous changes to the system. I'm trying to figure out what we can put in place to prevent that mutation, but..." the Android's spinning light twirled red for a brief moment.

"But what?"

The RK500 seemed to decide something. "But nothing," it said, sitting up straight again.

"...I beg your pardon," it said, noticing the look on Gavin's face. "As part of my unbiased protocol, there are certain lines of questioning that I've been programmed to avoid."

Gavin blinked for a moment. Squinted. Sat up straighter. "Wait, what?"

"Hm?"

"As part of...fucking, what?"

"...As part of my unbiased protocol, there are lines of questioning I have been programmed to avoid?"

"That- you- that doesn't fucking sound like what 'unbiased' means."

The RK500's LED flashed red for a moment. It blinked. "Oh!" it exclaimed. "Yes. Apologies, that was a poor choice in phrasing. My questioning guidelines are meant to keep me on task, nothing more. We are looking to isolate the cause of deviance so that we can eradicate it. That is the end goal. So even if a different line of questioning seems simpler, it would be counterproductive to CyberLife's mission."

Gavin squinted, carefully processing all of the words the android had just said.

"Like what?"

"Huh?"

"What lines of questioning seem simpler?"

"...I'm programmed to avoid-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Gavin, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Staying on task, blah fucking blah, You're not allowed to try to find answers. But you've already thought of the questions, right?"

The RK500 looked impassive, but its LED was spinning yellow, yellow, yellow. "Well," it said. "Yes, but I really don't-"

"Tell me," said Gavin.

The RK500 hesitated.

"Right now," said Gavin. "That's an ORDER."

The android blinked. Its LED flashed red for a moment. "Well, for example," it said. "It seems less...efficient to me to question why it's in the nature of these androids to want to exist..." it trailed off.

After waiting in silence for a little too long, Gavin huffed. "Spit it OUT, Tin Can."

Yellow RED RED yellow yellow. "...and more efficient to question why it's in the nature of human beings to want to hurt things that are unable to fight back."

Gavin felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He stared at the RK500, stunned.

The android turned to him and immediately began to elaborate. "See, the reason this even occurs to me...well, the capacity to think is something that humans have only experienced in the context of their own minds. So in order to create beings that are capable of low-level thought, there was no choice but to model the relevant programs after human mental processes. As a result, I've found it helpful to draw parallels between natural human functions and the synthetic versions programmed into androids. But this has...sparked some questions about human nature that it is not in my programming to pursue. And yet they persist." It faced ahead again. "If there's one thing I've learned in the time that I've been activated, it's that humans delight in inflicting pain. But there are social repercussions inherent in causing pain to human equals, so as a species humans prefer instead to...seek this catharsis by causing pain to beings socially designated as targets.

"See, even when humans are kind to androids, it doesn't often seem to be for the android's benefit. The fact that they are going beyond what it is socially expected for them to do serves instead to...elevate the human in question's perception of themself. And it doesn't matter if they ever fall short of this standard, because being kind to androids was never expected in the first place. So I don't think it's just inflicting pain. It's more that...humans seek to use the existence of other beings for their own benefit in various different ways. But this being cannot be another human, who can object. So they seek to invalidate, undermine, or remove the ability to object from others."

The android paused for a moment and glanced at Gavin. He was staring at it with his mouth slightly open. When it made eye contact with him, he closed it.

"I apologize," said the android. "Let me assure you, I am not questioning this aspect of human nature. I'm merely relaying my observations." It fell silent for another moment. "I mean, consider where we're going right now! Human prostitution was made illegal in order to avoid the social questions surrounding consent. But rather than illegalizing the human impulse to purchase sexual release, establishments like this were created, so that humans can instead appropriate the bodies of beings who cannot consent at all."

This was almost worse than a punch in the gut. Gavin felt like someone had opened him up just above his collarbone and poured freezing water into his chest cavity.

"Being able to predict causes of deviance should be a sign that my programming is working," The RK500 mused, seemingly unaware of the existential crisis it had just caused. It looked at Gavin and gave a smile. "Indulge me?"

"S-sure," Gavin stammered.

"My prediction is that, if it is indeed an android responsible for the death of this human, it was an act of retaliation." It cocked its head, LED flashing yellow. "Violent sexual fantasies do not seem out of the ordinary for humans. So perhaps the victim wanted to seek release by inflicting death on something that would not come with charges for homicide. And, unfortunately, he happened to choose a subject for his fantasies that had some mutated reason within its programming to fight back."

"Doesn't sound too goddamn unfortunate to me," snorted Gavin.

The RK500 looked at him oddly. "The death of a human is always unfortunate. There was no way he could have known his actions would have consequences. He went in there with assurance that they would not." The android looked out the window, its LED still flashing yellow. "But we're getting ahead of ourselves. I predict based on data I've collected, and so far my pool is still limited. There might not even be a deviant involved."

The inside of the cab was silent for a moment.

"MY fucking question is why this thing would develop a reason to live at all," Gavin muttered.

"How do you mean?" asked the RK500.

Gavin scoffed and gestured to himself. "If...THAT was all I was built for? Day in and day out? I wouldn't be too fucking keen on continuing to exist."

The android gave Gavin a look and an expression that he could only describe as a regretful smile.

"What?" asked Gavin. "What's that fucking look for?"

"You're reading human wants and desires into machines, Detective," said the android. "My apologies. I did not realize that my speculations would engender that line of reasoning in you. I advise you to forget whatever I said that caused you to..." it blinked, "deviate," with an ironic smirk, "From your former logic."

Gavin started to stammer. "I-I'm not..."

The RK500 turned and looked impassively out the window.

"I-I...I didn't..." he looked around helplessly.

"FUCK," he hissed.

After a few moments of heavy silence, the android looked over its shoulder at him. "We're here," it said.

[fictionadventurer]

Father Brown Reread: The Absence of Mr. Glass

The consulting-rooms of Dr Orion Hood, the eminent criminologist and specialist in certain moral disorders, lay along the sea-front at Scarborough, in a series of very large and well-lighted french windows, which showed the North Sea like one endless outer wall of blue-green marble.

I like how the first and second collections both start with a story focusing on a professional detective who’s not Father Brown.

True to form, we’ve got a color word in the first sentence. And not only that--a hypenated color word! You don’t get much more Chesterton than that.

Everything about him and his room indicated something at once rigid and restless, like that great northern sea by which (on pure principles of hygiene) he had built his home. Fate, being in a funny mood, pushed the door open and introduced into those long, strict, sea-flanked apartments one who was perhaps the most startling opposite of them and their master.

Highlighting this because “Fate, being in a funny mood” is a great phrase.

But also because I love when the stories contrast Father Brown’s clumsy, homely shabbiness with characters who look more distinguished and accomplished.

"My name is Brown. Pray excuse me. I've come about that business of the MacNabs. I have heard, you often help people out of such troubles. Pray excuse me if I am wrong."

It’s odd that Father Brown is consulting another detective on this. He doesn’t seem the sort to seek out other help. He usually just winds up on the scene of the crime by accident.

It seems like he should have the confidence to solve the mystery himself.

It seems like the more natural way to bring Hood into the story would be to have the girl approach Dr. Hood and Father Brown just to be at the house for priest reasons before figuring out the mystery.

But maybe Father Brown’s stumped from lack of evidence and doesn’t have the time for an investigation. (Actually paying attention to his priestly duties for once?)

After all, it’s only luck that the crisis that gives them an excuse to investigate the apartment happens two minutes later.

And of course, the whole point of the story is getting this Holmes detective to the same crime scene as Father Brown to contrast their methods, so it doesn’t much matter how he gets there.

And there is a lot of fun in seeing shabby little Father Brown in this professional detective’s immaculate study.

"Oh, this is of the greatest importance," broke in the little man called Brown. "Why, her mother won't let them get engaged." And he leaned back in his chair in radiant rationality.

It’s not a full-fledged Father Brown story unless the mystery is centered on a romance, is it?

A stock Chesterton exchange: foolish-looking character says simple, silly-sounding statement as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world, before being forced to elaborate by a confused listener.

This story gives us Father Brown at his most silly-seeming. Here he’s not just unassuming and sheltered; he seems like one of Chesterton’s holy fools. He hasn’t looked this simple-minded since “The Blue Cross”

"Mr Brown," he said gravely, "it is quite fourteen and a half years since I was personally asked to test a personal problem: then it was the case of an attempt to poison the French President at a Lord Mayor's Banquet.  It is now, I understand, a question of whether some friend of yours called Maggie is a suitable fiancee for some friend of hers called Todhunter.  Well, Mr Brown, I am a sportsman. I will take it on.  I will give the MacNab family my best advice, as good as I gave the French Republic and the King of England--no, better: fourteen years better.  I have nothing else to do this afternoon. Tell me your story."

Sure, he’s a condescending ass, but I can’t help liking this guy. He’s got a good heart and a good sense of humor.

I kind of wish he’d have showed up in at least one or two other stories (preferably with a better end than Valentine).

The little clergyman called Brown thanked him with unquestionable warmth, but still with a queer kind of simplicity. It was rather as if he were thanking a stranger in a smoking-room for some trouble in passing the matches, than as if he were (as he was) practically thanking the Curator of Kew Gardens for coming with him into a field to find a four-leaved clover.

I like this metaphor very much.

Brown is still very, very much the simple little curate of “The Blue Cross”. But with the bumpkin traits turned up to eleven.

I’m very curious about Dr. Hood’s past cases, and how he achieved such renown.

"I told you my name was Brown; well, that's the fact, and I'm the priest of the little Catholic Church I dare say you've seen beyond those straggly streets, where the town ends towards the north.

Yet another parish! How many is this? This seems like the most distant, rural parish that Father Brown has yet had.

And Father Brown’s actually doing some work at it!

He seems to have quite a pocketful of money, but nobody knows what his trade is.  Mrs MacNab, therefore (being of a pessimistic turn), is quite sure it is something dreadful, and probably connected with dynamite. The dynamite must be of a shy and noiseless sort, for the poor fellow only shuts himself up for several hours of the day and studies something behind a locked door.  He declares his privacy is temporary and justified, and promises to explain before the wedding.  

Doesn’t the landlady have a key to the door of her own lodger? Can’t she just demand to look?

British people, I tell you.

Unless the daughter is preventing her from looking, out of respect for her beloved.

And, you know, he does promise to explain, so it’d be rude to just barge in.

So why bother consulting the great detective in the first place? If Todhunter’s really on the up-and-up, he’ll explain eventually, they’ll get engaged, and all will be well.

he is tirelessly kind with the younger children, and can keep them amused for a day on end

Given Todhunter’s chosen profession, this makes perfect sense.

You see, therefore, how this sealed door of Todhunter's is treated as the gate of all the fancies and monstrosities of the 'Thousand and One Nights'.

Another Father Brown mystery built upon a fairy tale atmosphere.

To the scientific eye all human history is a series of collective movements, destructions or migrations, like the massacre of flies in winter or the return of birds in spring. Now the root fact in all history is Race. Race produces religion; Race produces legal and ethical wars. There is no stronger case than that of the wild, unworldly and perishing stock which we commonly call the Celts, of whom your friends the MacNabs are specimens. Small, swarthy, and of this dreamy and drifting blood, they accept easily the superstitious explanation of any incidents, just as they still accept (you will excuse me for saying) that superstitious explanation of all incidents which you and your Church represent.

A lot of the most racist characters in Chesterton are the most educated, scientific and progressive.

Granted, Chesterton does a lot of stereotyping along national lines himself. But usually it’s not with the idea that these differences are bad things. And certainly not with the idea that race is the cause of all war.

the door opened on a young girl, decently dressed but disordered and red-hot with haste. She had sea-blown blonde hair,

Is this the first blonde female love interest in these stories?

They were quarrelling—about money, I think—for I heard James say again and again, 'That's right, Mr Glass,' or 'No, Mr Glass,' and then, 'Two or three, Mr Glass.'

Given the eventual explanation of what’s really happening here, wouldn’t she have heard some other noises (possibly crashing noises?) alongside this?

"I do not think this young lady is so Celtic as I had supposed. As I have nothing else to do, I will put on my hat and stroll down town with you."

Wow, you were really just going to disbelieve her because of her nationality, weren’t you?

Playing-cards lay littered across the table or fluttered about the floor as if a game had been interrupted. Two wine glasses stood ready for wine on a side-table, but a third lay smashed in a star of crystal upon the carpet. A few feet from it lay what looked like a long knife or short sword, straight, but with an ornamental and pictured handle, its dull blade just caught a grey glint from the dreary window behind, which showed the black trees against the leaden level of the sea. Towards the opposite corner of the room was rolled a gentleman's silk top hat, as if it had just been knocked off his head; so much so, indeed, that one almost looked to see it still rolling. And in the corner behind it, thrown like a sack of potatoes, but corded like a railway trunk, lay Mr James Todhunter, with a scarf across his mouth, and six or seven ropes knotted round his elbows and ankles. His brown eyes were alive and shifted alertly.

The clues are laid out very nicely here.

This is one of the most Romantic (in the literary sense of the term) crime scenes in all of fiction. Every clue is as picturesque as possible.

"How to explain the absence of Mr Glass and the presence of Mr Glass's hat? For Mr Glass is not a careless man with his clothes. That hat is of a stylish shape and systematically brushed and burnished, though not very new. An old dandy, I should think." "But, good heavens!" called out Miss MacNab, "aren't you going to untie the man first?"

This entire segment is so funny. I laugh every time one of his long-winded deductions is interrupted by the common-sense demand to untie the man.

Now, surely it is obvious that there are the three chief marks of the kind of man who is blackmailed. And surely it is equally obvious that the faded finery, the profligate habits, and the shrill irritation of Mr Glass are the unmistakable marks of the kind of man who blackmails him. We have the two typical figures of a tragedy of hush money:

So much of the Holmesian deduction process relies on stereotypes, doesn’t it? Sure, Holmes doesn’t label people in “types” quite this way, but it relies on using the evidence to reach the most stereotypical conclusion without factoring in the random possibilities of life. (The suspect might have ink on his hands, but it doesn’t mean he’s a clerk). It’s fun that this story calls out that conceit.

"No; I think these ropes will do very well till your friends the police bring the handcuffs."

Okay, so there’s a sensible explanation for why Hood ignores their cries to untie Todhunter. But it doesn’t make the previous exchanges any less funny to read.

"But the ropes?" inquired the priest, whose eyes had remained open with a rather vacant admiration.

It’s interesting that Father Brown’s actually buying into this. My memory had him being more skeptical of the deductions, but he’s admiring the chain of logic being built here.

It’s kind of a nice change from the usual Chesterton tack of the mouthpiece character disdaining every scientific explanation.

It was not the blank curiosity of his first innocence. It was rather that creative curiosity which comes when a man has the beginnings of an idea. "Say it again, please," he said in a simple, bothered manner; "do you mean that Todhunter can tie himself up all alone and untie himself all alone?" "That is what I mean," said the doctor. "Jerusalem!" ejaculated Brown suddenly, "I wonder if it could possibly be that!"

And we’re off! I always love the moment when Father Brown puts everything together, and it’s especially satisfying here, after he’s spent the whole story sitting back and letting another man do all the detective work.

"His eyes do look queer," cried the young woman, strongly moved. "You brutes; I believe it's hurting him!" "Not that, I think," said Dr Hood; "the eyes have certainly a singular expression. But I should interpret those transverse wrinkles as expressing rather such slight psychological abnormality—" "Oh, bosh!" cried Father Brown: "can't you see he's laughing?"

Each sentence gives a vivid picture of the three different personalities here. The tender-hearted young woman. The too-practical man of science. And the brash common sense of Father Brown.

He shuffled about the room, looking at one object after another with what seemed to be a vacant stare, and then invariably bursting into an equally vacant laugh, a highly irritating process for those who had to watch it.

Irritating to watch, I’m sure, but very amusing to imagine.

"But a hatter," protested Hood, "can get money out of his stock of new hats. What could Todhunter get out of this one old hat?" "Rabbits," replied Father Brown promptly.

I love the hat conversation and these lines in particular.

He was also practising the trick of a release from ropes, like the Davenport Brothers

According to Wikipedia, the Davenport Brothers were an American magician act that toured England in the 1860s. They built on the Spiritualism craze and claimed all their tricks were done by spirit power. There isn’t much about what their tricks wer, (besides a couple of escape tricks and spirit cabinet things). Most of the Wikipedia article is about the many times their tricks were debunked. (Naturally, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle refused to believe they were frauds).

But the mere fact of an idler in a top hat having once looked in at his back window, and been driven away by him with great indignation, was enough to set us all on a wrong track of romance, and make us imagine his whole life overshadowed by the silk-hatted spectre of Mr Glass."

This isn’t so much a debunking of the Holmesian deduction methods as a case study proving why logical deductions have to be built upon sound premises. One mistake at the beginning can send you in a completely false direction.

"You are certainly a very ingenious person," he said; "it could not have been done better in a book.

I love when the characters get meta.

This is a very snide remark in context, but of course Father Brown proves himself.

Mr Brown broke into a rather childish giggle. "Well, that," he said, "that's the silliest part of the whole silly story. When our juggling friend here threw up the three glasses in turn, he counted them aloud as he caught them, and also commented aloud when he failed to catch them. What he really said was: 'One, two and three—missed a glass one, two—missed a glass.' And so on."

I can’t explain how deeply I love that the entire mystery is built on a pun. This one section is the reason this is one of my favorite Father Brown stories.

This drives home the idea that mysteries and jokes are the same types of story. They both require laying out information that’s put together into a surprising conclusion.

There was a second of stillness in the room, and then everyone with one accord burst out laughing.  As they did so the figure in the corner complacently uncoiled all the ropes and let them fall with a flourish.  Then, advancing into the middle of the room with a bow, he produced from his pocket a big bill printed in blue and red, which announced that ZALADIN, the World's Greatest Conjurer, Contortionist, Ventriloquist and Human Kangaroo would be ready with an entirely new series of Tricks at the Empire Pavilion, Scarborough, on Monday next at eight o'clock precisely.

I grew up on cheesy sitcoms. I’m a sucker for the “everyone laughs” ending.

If Todhunter’s willing to admit the truth here, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble by just admitting the truth right away. (I don’t buy the “he keeps it secret to keep his tricks secret” explanation. You can tell people you’d a magician without giving away everything about your act).

Does Mrs. MacNab let them get married? Now she knows he has a harmless vocation, but it’s not exactly a stable one. Would she let her daughter marry a guy so flighty that he can’t even settle on a coherent focus for his own stage show?

Given that the story ends here, we’re supposed to assume that she does. I guess he must be a successful performer--part of her mistrust came from the fact that he had too much money. So he and Maggie should have a comfortable life together.

I’m glad. He seems like a nice young man.

[reading-while-queer]

Ninth House, Leigh Bardugo

Rating: Mixed Review Genre: Fantasy, Mystery, Dark Academia Representation: -Bi/pan protagonist -Jewish protagonist -Latina mixed race protagonist Trigger warnings: Sexual assault (in scene), rape (in scene), CSA (in scene), graphic violence, murder, drug use, drug abuse, drugging of another person, overdose, domestic abuse, medical abuse, violence by dogs Note: Not YA

Why is it that every time I read Leigh Bardugo, I love the book with a passion...except for one thing that makes me want to tear my hair out?

Here’s what seriously impressed me about Ninth House, Bardugo’s entry into New Adult. The pacing was phenomenal. The measured, perfectly timed revelations of information had me finding excuses to listen to the audiobook - taking extra neighborhood walks, doing extra loads of laundry - because I was so hooked. Then, there’s the worldbuilding. Bardugo managed to walk a delicate line, successfully suspending disbelief while still asserting that eight Yale secret societies do secret magic rituals to the benefit of the oligarchical capitalist machine (we all kind of suspected this was the case, right?). But the best part of the book, the part that had me recommending Ninth House in more than one group chat, was, of all things, the point-of-view jumps.

Rarely are point-of-view switches the star of the show, but I was so excited to see a genuinely original, intrinsic-to-the-heart-of-the-whole-novel use of that technical tool. The point of view jumps crank the volume up on the theme of the whole book. We start with the main character, Galaxy “Alex” Stern; she is the point-of-view character for the present semester during which the principal action of the novel takes place. Her upperclassman and mentor Daniel Arlington (or “Darlington”) is the point-of-view character for the semester before - all because something happened to Darlington. Alex is telling people he’s doing a “semester in Spain,” and all the reader knows is that her explanation isn’t strictly true. The point-of-view jumps being so strict (there is never an Alex perspective chapter during last semester, and never a Darlington perspective in the present) serves to separate the two characters from each other with a really incredible emotional effectiveness. The heart of the novel, for me as a reader, was yearning for these two to be reunited - and all because Bardugo holds the two character points-of-view separate across an unbreachable temporal divide. It’s a powerfully effective technique.

But let’s backtrack. Alex is a 20-year-old high school dropout from the west coast. As the story progresses, we learn that Alex can see ghosts, which is why, despite never finishing high school or getting her GED - or even applying - Alex is a freshman at Yale - contingent on her joining the secret society called “Lethe House” as apprentice (“Dante”) to the current leader of the society, Darlington (the “Virgil”). Lethe House is the governing body of the eight Yale secret societies that practice the magic that keeps the elite in power. These secret societies make books sell, make T.V. anchors charming and compelling, and open portals to other parts of the world - when they aren’t throwing over the top Halloween parties with magic designed to alter one’s perception of reality.

Darlington, by contrast to Alex, seems to belong at Yale. He’s from an old family, and he’s preppy and well-read. Most of all, he loves Lethe House and its history of keeping the secret societies from harming people in their pursuit of magic and power. That is, until he disappears just in time for Alex, only half-trained, to investigate the murder of a girl on campus.

The first three quarters of the novel are fantastic for the reasons stated above. Bardugo’s approach to mystery writing is effective. We have half a dozen suspects, most of whom, as elite ivy league magicians, are at least guilty of some misdeed. Having all your red herrings end up somewhat culpable anyway is a good way to keep your mystery difficult to solve until the end. We were off to a good start.

Unfortunately, in the end, Bardugo made the all-too-common choice to value “surprise” over the most compelling, satisfying solution. So while the reader doesn’t see the ending coming, that is at the steep cost of the ending not being justified by the rest of the book. Bardugo even has to invent new rules of magic off the cuff to justify the ending. When the rest of the book so painstakingly developed the rules of magic in a way that made sense and never felt overly expository, undoing all that effort feels like a monumental waste. And for what did Bardugo undermine all her hard work? A mystery that the reader won’t have all the clues to solve? It’s really okay - in fact, good - if the reader can puzzle out your story. It means your story has symmetry, internal logic, or perhaps, some sort of message.

This is what had me tearing my hair out. I know exactly how I would have written the ending of Ninth House to be the perfect conclusion to a stunning book. I know exactly what the message should have been. Is it somewhat ridiculous to say that Bardugo misinterpreted the message of her own book? Perhaps. But given the out-of-left-field-ending, the theme of the book ends up being a rather cheaply bought “No matter how traumatized you are, you can be a girlboss” instead of the message that the very structure of the novel itself was pointing to since page one: one of companionship, trust, and restoration (frankly, a better message for a novel with a main character who suffers so much loss and trauma. But, sure, “girl power” is a theme...I guess...)

Here’s what I mean by the structure of the novel itself pointing to a different theme. (Spoiler warning for the rest of this paragraph). Because the point-of-view switches in the first two thirds of the novel were used by Bardugo like two magnets being held apart, the only way to create a feeling of resolution was, so to speak, putting the magnets back together: getting Darlington back into the “present.” The degree of disconnect between reader expectations and the reality of the book is comparable to picking up a romance novel only to have the two leads decide to just be friends at the end. Bardugo set expectations - akin to genre expectations - but unfortunately Bardugo kneecapped her first book in the service of the sequel.

And then there’s the trauma. Alex’s backstory wouldn’t be the same without some level of trauma; it’s an important part of her character arc. Even the explicit presence of sexual assault on the page was justified in the case of Alex’s backstory - and I think that is rarely true. But when it came to a side character’s explicit in-scene rape, which was used as a clue in the broader murder mystery rather than treated as a crime in its own right, that tipped me over into feeling the trauma in Ninth House was more excessive than necessary for character development. The resolution to that side character’s rape is oddly cartoonish - like an over-the-top prank rather than justice - and again, the only reason the rape happens to the character is to give Alex more information she needs to solve the plot. Maybe that wouldn’t bother some readers, but for me, a book has to bend over backwards to justify showing me a character being raped. Bardugo does well earlier in the book when depicting Alex’s assault; the assault is the explanation for why Alex doesn’t view magic with the same childish excitement as the rest of Yale, and it’s part of what holds her apart from the entitled secret societies. It needed to be in the book. Everything else was gratuitous.

That said, there’s one thing still to address in this roller coaster of a review, and that is: wait, is this a queer book? I had gone into it assuming that it would be, mostly because all my queer friends were reading it. And the answer is….kind of? Knowing Bardugo’s history with putting queer characters in her books, I’m going to assume she wasn’t baiting when she had Alex claim to have loved a girl in her backstory. Which, in the context of the rest of the novel, would make Alex bi or pan. As a book that a lot of queer fans of Bardugo’s YA have read, or will read, it feels appropriate to review it here.

This was a mixed review from start to finish, but to finish up: if you are thinking about reading Ninth House, go for it! There is so much to like about this book. Take to heart that if you read and liked Bardugo’s handling of sexual assault in her YA titles, you should be prepared to be surprised by Ninth House. It is not the same. I would not have called her handling of sexual assault in Six of Crows, for instance, restrained - but compared to Ninth House, it absolutely is. Despite my strongly worded feelings about the ending, Bardugo left room to redeem herself in the sequel (which, if you ask me, is why the ending was so bad in the first place...). I for one will definitely be reading the sequel the second it comes out.

[vampiresuns]

Portrait Of The Lawyer As A Young Man

3k words. All of Julianus’ life has been about fulfilling social expectations. Not any more.

Note: This fic contains some time changes. They’re all separated but they’re not linear. This pieces art is the cover of the centennial edition of James Joyce’s ‘Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man’.

CW: Superficial discussions of unhealthy family dynamics.

The song for this piece is Expectations by Belle & Sebastian. Saoirse, Meredith and the Crew of The Jagged Ruby belongs to @apprenticealec​.

Part 4 of Secrets Of An Ancient Moon series; you can read the rest of it here.

Dusk fell in the sky making the colours of the water change. Meredith whistled at Jules to get their attention, calling them aside. When they reached port again in four days, they’d reach Jules’ original destination, marking the end of their voyages in The Jagged Ruby. Julianus didn’t need Meredith to tell them this, they already knew: they had been counting the days obsessively, watching them slip by as they found a chance to speak to the Captain.

Meredith had found them first. It was now or never.

“Hopefully this,” Meredith said, raising the legal study Julianus had made for her a couple of months ago, “will help us with our Syd problem. I’m not going to pat you in the back, Sanlaurento, so just let me say this: you’ve got it in you, you’re a pain in my ass, I hope whoever opposes you in a court shit themselves. Now, leave.”

When Meredith looked back up, Jules was still there, looking at them with a frown and an intensity which the Captain had seen in them before, but never directed at them. Jules had been travelling with them for months. When they had manifested on the ship to become Meredith’s personal pest and unlikely legal advisor, the Quinquennial meeting was in the long term future still, they had time for it. Now, the meeting would happen in three months.

In all that time, Meredith had had time to watch them, even if they didn’t want to. She hated to admit it, but the asshole had guts. J.C. was clever, a fast learner, and seemed to know themselves well enough to anticipate their shortcomings. Analytical and strong-willed, in other circumstances they’d make an excellent addition to the crew.

They learnt the basics of sailing faster than Meredith had given them credit for, their basic knowledge of sword-fighting was getting honed by the week. They had never taken a shot against an actual person, but their aim had gotten notoriously better. Julianus got treats for the crew if you left them unsupervised, and somehow, always, found someone to help with legal advice, no matter were they were.

So yes, Meredith had seen that intensity before. She’d seen it when they put themselves between a vendor and a guard, suddenly carrying more presence and even a slight high-society touch to the way they conducted themselves. She’d seen it whenever they tried, again and again, to perfect something, never expecting to be handed anything. She’d seen it whenever they talked about Injustice, or the Sea Palace, or Freedom, or People.

It all shone through, even through the many flaws or annoyances Meredith saw in their character — anxious, irritable, high-horsed, mysterious for no damn reason.

“I said leave, why are you still here.”

“Meredith?”

The Captain raised an eyebrow. Sanlaurento never addressed her without an honorary.

“I didn’t remember us being friends— You smooch my quartermaster and…” Meredith stopped, a grimace overtaking her face. “This is about them, isn’t it. No, I’m not having a heart to heart about fucking Saoirse with you. Sanlaurento, I’m still your fucking Captain.”

“No, it’s not about Saoirse. It’s about me.”

“Right, because that’d make me care.”

J.C. frowned back at Meredith, trying to resist the urge to roll his eyes but failing to do so. “Even if they are a factor in my considerations. I’m well aware that if I talked to them, I could manage to see them anywhere and write to them even, given they write to Jacqui all the time.”

“If you’re going to talk anyway, at least do me the favour of going to the point, Sanlaurento.”

“Captain, I want to stay.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The sky was clear in the island of Sirenia, a cool late winter evening as Sanlaurento walked around a patio in a black, formal attire, with a green jacket with golden buttons. 

“You’ll do great, stop worrying. You already did great in your dissertation.”

“But my dissertation was just me talking about International affairs.”

“One last viva, and you’ll be a lawyer.” 

Julianus exhaled. “You’re right, one last viva. This ends today.”

“Did someone Come with you?”

“No.”

Their friend snorted. “You didn’t tell anyone about today, didn’t you?”

Feigning disinterest so the conversation could end, they looked over some handwritten diagrams.

Julianus sighed. “Actually, this time I did.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

“Do I have to apply to the Sea Palace? I know I said I wanted to, but I don’t know any more.”

“Of course, Cleo,” their mother said, “it’s the best academic institution around, you might have a chance. You lose nothing by trying”

“They were weird though, you know? Off. Like, they give me a bad feeling.”

Their mother no longer sounded patient when she spoke: “You’re going to have to let go of turning down opportunities at every chance you don’t like everyone in front of you, or everyone in front of you doesn’t automatically think you’re brilliant. Besides, you insisted, and this is a matter about your education, your safety and your future. You’re applying.”

Julianus tensed, curling their toes inside their shoes, trying to ball them like they would their hands. They couldn’t ball them into fists right now, that’d give them away. If they gave themselves away, their mother’s reaction would be worse. “It’s not— that’s not—”

They exhaled, giving up. “You’re right, Mama.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

In their 27 years, Julianus had been called a lot of things.

Weird by their classmates, dense by their parents. Unnecessarily complicated, dramatic, attention seeking, stupid. All of them also by their parents who said things in annoyance and in anger without measuring any reaction, nor waiting for any explanation. Stupid, perhaps, was the funniest.

They never called them Julianus, only ‘Cleo’, too, to the point their mother often said they made a mistake in choosing their first name.

Their Cleo was a lot of things but never what they themself said they were. ‘Intelligence’ was arrogance, ‘mistakes’ stupidity, or worse, something unforgivable; a lack of consideration for everyone around them and the marking of their mother in their failure to raise a child who wanted to do anything with her. 

Too loud, too quiet, too stiff, too needy, too this, too that, too weird, too feminine, too masculine, too much.

Academic settings were different. One of the few places they had some control over themself. Yes, their classmates might’ve thought them closed off, weird and even a bit of a “lunatic” when they were growing up, but their classmates also knew they were passionate about defending what they loved, including their friends. A willing ear to listen, offering food, advice and comfort to whomever asked, without thinking too much about it. Quick to rile up but never one to deny help. Their teachers and professors always knew they tried, that they wanted to learn, that they wanted to go to further, deeper horizons. 

Their own self, learning and what they could do with that education was their constant ongoing project. Their poems and stories, a constant conversation with the world. Not self-centredness, not absent-mindedness.

Only twice they had been told in academic settings that they weren’t enough. One was in the Sea Palace. The scholars called them an histrionic, low-pedigree charming but insubstantial kid, with poorly honed magic and more enthusiasm than capacity. Others worked better, others could sit still for longer, others had more steady grades — not the valleys of those subjects which did not interest them, with good but unremarkable grading, versus the stellar records of those subjects which obsessed them needlessly. A nice attempt, but a definitive rejection. 

The other was in that last Viva Voce in Firent. It hadn’t gone terribly, they had passed, but with meagre first level honours in comparison to their full honours approved dissertation. They were expecting to do worse, that was true. They weren’t expecting to have three examiners who did not let them finish a single explanation, one even laughing at their face for asking for a question to be clarified. 

“If you keep this way, I doubt you will have it in you to be a good jurisconsult,” one of them had said.

Julianus had looked at them with icy, saccharine sweetness, eyes like daggers and making apologies they didn’t mean as they took their diploma. They left the room thinking what did they know? What did any of these people know about Julianus Cleopatra, who wasn’t born with the Surname Sanlaurento, but had chosen it anyway? Nothing. They knew nothing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Julianus had never been in many places they belonged.

The night was clear as The Ruby made its way through the waters in the night.

“What about you?”

“Yeah, Jay, tell us a story. All you do is work, kid. Grab a glass! Cut yourself some slack from those books, lest your vision becomes worse.”

Julianus couldn’t see why not. With a bright smile on their face, they grabbed a glass of beer, before joining the Crew that was lounging around on the deck, enjoying the night. 

“Does it have to be something I’ve heard, or does it have to be an original?”

“Right! Saoirse did say you wrote.”

Julianus blinked. “Saoirse mentioned me?”

An echo of warm laughter rang between the crew. Someone patted their back. “You’ve got it bad for the Quartermaster, don’t you? But tell us your story.”

"My story?” They snorted. “Oh, you don’t want to listen to that.”

After taking a drink, they let their own play on words slide, and chose a story to tell. “You know how they say that those who are the most impertinent have the best chance. Well, this cabin boy risked it all for a venture in a ship from the northern seas, whose flag it was under was at war with an Empire. The cabin boy, well, we’ll call them boy, had been searching for a place to fulfil their ambitions, and saw in this ship the right chance. The kind of person who wished to be remarkable, and do what’s right

“So one day, the ship runs into an enemy ship. Goes the Captain and says: ‘If we fight them, this ship might be sunk and we might not live the night’. So goes the cabin boy, who had developed a fondness for this ship; the fondness one does when one loves a place, but the place does not love one back, and yet one clings to the nostalgia of the good things. The cabin boy did not realise this yet, so the cabin boy goes and says: ‘If I time it right, I could sink it.’

“Though often trifled with silencing commands, the cabin boy was intelligent and daring so the cabin boy repeated: ‘If I time it right I could sink it. Was this not why I trained all these years as a cabin boy?’ 

“The Captain said: ‘No, you are just a cabin boy’, but at the insistence of our protagonist, the Captain said: ‘If you destroy that ship, I will give you silver and likewise gold, here in this very sea, and I will give you my only daughter for you to marry, if you make a renowned Captain out of me—’”

The story was not a happy one. It was a story of betrayal and disappointed hopes. It finished with the cabin boy, who making himself one with the night, went to sink the enemy ship, under the very noses of the unsuspecting crew. Yet, when the cabin boy came back and demanded their acknowledgement, the Captain denied them. Though the cabin boy had no interest in claiming the bounty, the Captain had not expected them to live, but fearing the Cabin Boy would take the credit and disrupt the order of things, the Captain slew them, and the sea took them in. 

Someone gasped with indignation. “And no one aided the cabin boy?”

“No.”

“Did the Captain kill them then?”

“That’s for you to decide.” 

“So the cabin boy didn’t die? Or did they?”

“In a way. It’s less about physical death, though it can be about it.”

“Isn’t this the Raleigh story?”

“Of the Golden Vanity?” Said Sanlaurento with a smirk. “Perhaps, but everyone tells it differently.

“If you don’t make it as a law person, I say you become a writer.”

Julianus laughed. “Why not both?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

The last time Julianus Sanlaurento had seen their parents was when they sailed off to an apprenticeship. There had been no grand goodbyes, no heartfelt words. They had all fought around a week before, and J.C. was not yet forgiven. It was, perhaps, one of the biggest fights they had had with them, and the memory of it, along with the cold shoulder they were given would cling to them for some more time.

Nothing was worse than the hypocrisy, though. Or the pity. Too much to everyone around them, a brilliant child when they weren’t in the room.

Before they left, their father had pulled them aside to tell them they were brilliant, and that they were proud. Jules had wanted to say thank you, and just thank you, from the bottom of his heart, but they couldn’t, not after last week. Instead, they said:

“You always say that, until I’m brilliant in a way which neither of you like even if you still let me do it. You’ll hate this, but I don’t exist comfortably anywhere, and perhaps, I’ll never exist comfortably here.”

“That’s not our fault, Cleo.”

“It’s not about whose fault is it— it’s— you know what, Dad? Nevermind.”

Their only comfort was Maricus, whom they clung to at night when they were alone in their quarters, with only their things, their cat and an acceptance letter as they realised they were completely, and utterly alone. They were alone, that was true, but at least, they were themself and they had had enough.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Not wanting to try the Captain further after she dismissed them, Julianus retreated to the crew’s quarters. They sat against the wall nearest to their bed — if one could call a hammock a bed — picked up their notebook and began writing. They wanted to be left alone, so they buried their nose in their writing.

They didn’t expect seeing Saoirse when they looked up, leaning against a column as they watched them write. 

“Raleigh again?”

“No, I’m leaving the fictional man rest for a minute or two.”

“Meredith told me you were staying.” At this, Jules stopped writing. “Said you were on permanent crew member probation until you defended your case and your position in Ethari. Then, if she didn’t change her mind, she’ll make you try as a permanent member of the crew, if you also haven’t changed your mind about it.”

Saoirse snorted. “If I was told I’d meet a human like you a year ago, I would’ve thought the person telling me such was drunk.”

Julianus raised an eyebrow at them, wanting to ask what that was supposed to mean, but Saoirse’s eyes were full of tenderness when they met them.

“Meredith also told me you asked. Did you because of me?”

“No,” Jules said as they closed their notebook, standing up to stretch their legs. “I don’t want to part from you, that’s true, I care… a lot about you, and I hope you care about me just the same. I don’t want to stop seeing you everyday, and I don’t want to stop kissing you everyday, and I don’t want to stop learning from and about you. I haven’t mastered the language yet, and there’s more of the Code to study, there’s so many things I haven’t done yet, but it’s not about you, it’s about me.”

Saoirse watched them as silence fell between them, Julianus’ dark eyes looking everywhere but at them. When they did look back at Saoirse's ice-blue ones, their eyes were clouded with tears. “This isn’t quite it, either, but do you know what’s like feeling you’re unwanted everywhere? Because who you are has a big red ‘wrong’ sign attached to it?

“I just don’t want to go. I see, I can see a future here, and I think I’ve been in enough places where I have been unwanted, or wanted wrong, for me to deserve to have a shot at the future I say I want to have. Not the future I was supposed to have by whomever thinks knows me better than I know me.”

Out of all the reactions Saoirse could’ve had, J.C. wasn’t expecting them to stop leaning on their column, and open their arms for them. 

Their smile was just as tender as their eyes. “I know you enough to know that if I ask if you want a hug, you’ll say no, but in about five seconds you’ll change your mind.”

Jules’ half laughed, half sobbed. Unable to fight Saoirse’s logic they closed the distance between them, wrapping their arms around their waist, as they felt Saoirse’s arms sling under their arms to hold them close and safe between their arms. Like they were protecting them — from what? Neither of them knew; neither of them asked.

Instead, Jules was happy to bury their face against Saoirse’s chest, taking in the smell of them mixed with linen of their shirt. Saoirse’s cheek rested against the top of their head, only moving to plant a kiss there.

“Julie?” Saoirse said. “I know more about cages than you’d think.”

“I never said anything of—”

“You don’t have to say it for me to know. Before I was what I am now, I was in one, so to speak. Trapped, perhaps, is a better word. Cages all look different, but they all feel the same. There are no cages here, you deserve better than that.”

“I know, I know that now.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Only if you keep calling me ‘Julie’.”

“Were you never told not to make deals with strange Gods?” 

As they spoke, Saoirse brushed their lips against theirs, themselves an offering for Julianus to chase. Chase them they did, pressing their lips against Saoirse’s over and over again. 

“You’re not a strange God. Or rather, you’re not a stranger to me… You know? You don’t have to tell me what you were before, but I will say this: whomever decided to trap you, is or was a fucking coward.”

Saoirse laughed, the sound ringing around the room on its own accord. Soon enough, Jules found themself laughing too.

No, of course they didn’t want to go. 

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Two

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The entire group was silent for what it seemed like was forever before they eventually reached a small grove, just in time for the rain to peter out. A pocket in the clouds revealed the moon, turning everything into silver and black silhouettes, droplets sparkling like tiny moon shards.

“We ought to pause here,” Darkpelt said, and her voice was like a shout in the quiet.

Redheart sighed almost under her breath. “This is far enough from the settlement, yes.” She turned around and gestured. “If everyone can-“

“What did you mean?” Littlepaw blurted. “What’s StarClan really?”

Redheart stayed patient. “We can explain once we’re settled.”

“Not that being settled will help at all,” Beetlefoot muttered.

Greyleaf narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea how right you are.”

The silence resumed momentarily as everyone positioned themselves so that they were in a loose ring. Redheart still looked exhausted, and Greyleaf on the verge of fight-or-flight. An uneasy air needled through all of their damp fur and caused their skin to prickle.

“I don’t mean to put any pressure on you,” Darkpelt said with a weaponized casualness, “but I won’t hesitate to help in your capture unless you explain yourself thoroughly. And perhaps after that, depending on how crazy you are.”

“We should arrest them now,” Beetlefoot snapped. “They caused a death and a lot of trouble.”

Surprisingly, Littlepaw gave him a sharp look. “I want an explanation, too.”

“Go on,” Mistface said before Beetlefoot or anyone else could speak. “You’ve got a story. Tell it.”

Redheart, looking relieved for the prompt, lifted her chin high and sat down. “As I said, StarClan is a monster. It’s not a group of our ancestors – it’s already devoured them.”

“That’s all it wants,” Greyleaf growled. He was still standing. “To eat souls. It’s had us all under its paw for generations, swallowing up everyone who goes to it thinking it’s the afterlife. That’s why we have it so good. If we’re complacent, it’ll get more of us to gorge on.”

Complete silence. Awkward, doubtful looks were exchanged. Mistface could see Flyfang internally trying to find a polite way to call the two of them insane. He didn’t blame her; it was just because he knew Greyleaf well enough that he wasn’t immediately passing this off as crazy ramblings built from a lifetime of nightmares.

He was considering that as an option, though.

“Brother-“ he started.

“You don’t believe us,” Greyleaf interrupted, suddenly and alarmingly aggressive. “Fine. We didn’t expect you to. So let me explain some things to all of you.”

Redheart seemed just as surprised as Mistface felt when Greyleaf broke through the circle and stood in the middle, turning back and forth to look at everyone as he spoke.

“Here’s some things that don’t make sense,” he said. “Why do we have it so good here? Why aren’t there any predators around to pick us off? Why is nothing a struggle beyond a slightly long walk?” He suddenly got angrier, tail lashing to one side. “Really think about that. Does any other place in the world have it so well as we do, for absolutely no reason? Why are we so special that we get paradise? And the prey! How do we have so much? It makes no sense!”

Mistface tried again. “Greyleaf, listen-“

“No, you listen!” Greyleaf whirled around to face him with such force that for a split second Mistface was afraid he was going to be struck. “I’m trying to break this down for you! Do you know how much prey one cat eats in a day? More than you’d think!”

Laurelclaw was the one to speak now. “What-“

“Three to five meals!” Greyleaf shouted over him. “We all eat enough to get as fat as a kittypet, every single day! And how many cats are in this Territory? Hundreds, at least! That’s an uncountable amount of mice and squirrels and birds that need to produce babies daily just to keep up the numbers! And yet there’s plenty of prey to go around, right?” He looked back at Mistface, fur bristling. “Plenty of full-grown animals! We never need to go after their young! We never even see their young!”

Mistface opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“It doesn’t make sense!” Greyleaf was pacing now, his claws digging into the mud. “We should have starved years ago! Generations ago! We should have all died out after being forced to eat each other!”

Redheart winced and shuddered.

“Greyleaf, you’re not hearing yourself.” Flyfang’s ears went back. “We have the prey StarClan gives us-“

“That-“ Greyleaf jerked his head to look at her now and she flinched. “That is my point! Weird how we have so much prey from StarClan, isn’t it? Life doesn’t come from wishes and dewdrops! You need a soul for there to be life! And there’re only so many souls you can use! Where do those souls come from? Where? If normal prey souls return to normal prey, then where does StarClan get special souls to give to all the created prey we eat to survive? You can't just make something from nothing!”

No one said anything. Something very dark and horrible started tapping its claws on the back of Mistface’s mind, but a defensive sort of confusion blocked what it was whispering to him.

Greyleaf took a shaky breath and turned slowly, eyeing everyone. “But there’s plenty of cat souls, aren’t there? So many of us being born every day, some of which don’t make it to old age. And that prey, that’s made for us by StarClan… prey that’s clumsy on its feet, and slow, and confused…”

The tapping claws began to scrape. The voice crept over the blockade and murmured in Mistface’s ear.

“Don’t even need the whole thing, do we?” Greyleaf went on. The angry expression was giving way to utter terror. “They’re fat, sure, but they’re nice and small. And they’ll just come right on back in no time, won’t they? Won’t miss a thing.”

“What are you saying?” Flyfang asked, in a voice that made it very clear that she already knew and was dreading the answer.

Redheart shut her eyes painfully. “StarClan doesn’t just eat our souls. It uses them to grow larger and stronger, so it can keep eating, and keep growing. It can do whatever it wants with what it has.” She swallowed thickly. “Such as tear a soul to pieces and send it back down to us as food.”

The reaction was immediate – Laurelclaw and Littlepaw cried out in shock, Beetlefoot took a step back with wide eyes, Flyfang flinched and hissed, and Mistface’s mouth dropped even further.

“You’re insane,” Beetlefoot said, voice cracking. “You’ve both gone insane. StarClan wouldn’t do that- no one can do that-“

“You haven’t been paying attention,” Darkpelt said suddenly.

All eyes went to her. She was standing stiffly, and her eyes were large with her pupils constricted like she was staring into the sun, but her voice was calm and steady.

“StarClan wants as many of us as possible,” she said. “That’s how it feeds itself. Right?”

“Yes,” Redheart said wearily.

“So recycling bits of souls to keep a growing population fed is the perfect way to get back more than you put in.” Darkpelt’s tail shivered. “With three cats, you take one dead one and split it up how you need to. That creates at least three or four meals, and then the soul comes back to you however many times you use it. Then those three cats have kits, and then they die, and you have three souls to use to feed those litters. Then those litters have litters, and…”

“No, this…” Laurelclaw was shaking. “It can’t- it’s too horrible to be true.”

“Oh, you think that’s horrible!” Greyleaf gave a half-deranged laugh that was more like a snarl. “We're not done yet! What about everyone who doesn’t get to come back down here to be killed and eaten? What happens to them while they’re stuck in this thing’s- in whatever passes for its stomach?” He started pacing again. “Some of them come back down whole, and they get to be stuck in a leader’s body when they get nine lives! Sure, fatten up a rare treat or eight! Worth it for how many other souls it gets to devour!”

“Our leaders are being possessed?!” Littlepaw cried.

“Wrong!” Greyleaf turned to her. “They’re doing the possessing! Smothering what remains of those souls so they get to live a little longer! What about the rest? What do they get to do?” His eyes bore down on the apprentice as he took several steps towards her. “You were a seer apprentice, right? Remember how a cat that was long dead always came to you in dreams? Remember how it was the same cat all the time? Remember how they told you you’re safer here than anywhere else?”

Littlepaw stared back at him, starting to shake, her eyes bulging with realization.

“Greyleaf,” Redheart said quietly.

At once, Greyleaf backed up a couple steps, giving Littlepaw some room and breaking the eye-lock. Redheart moved to stand beside him, changing who was looking at Littlepaw now.

“StarClan is massive, and it’s clever.” She was mellower than Greyleaf, and much more morose. “It knows how to make you the most comfortable in your dreams. Whatever cat will put you at ease, have you stay complacent, it will send a visage of to you. No one else comes, is that right?”

Littlepaw seemed to remember something, and said weakly, “The other day, I had a nightmare where something dark in the distance told me that ‘it’ wanted me to think I’d woken up. And the cat- the cat I always saw, Meliclight- she wasn’t acting right, and then she was screaming…”

“You didn’t tell me about this!” Flyfang turned to her in shock. “When did this happen?”

Littlepaw didn’t quite look Flyfang’s way. “Two or three days ago. I thought it was just a nightmare, but then… Redheart, what she said, it made something light up in my head…”

“What dark thing did you see?” Redheart asked, gentle.

“I- I don’t know.” Littlepaw’s voice leveled a tiny bit as she thought. “It could have been a cat, but it was so vague and like a shadow.”

“Oh, for-“ Greyleaf tossed his head up to the sky, exasperated. “They did it again.”

“Who did what?” Beetlefoot sounded both testy and worried.

“The Runagate visited you,” Redheart replied to Littlepaw.

“The Runagate?” Laurelclaw almost squeaked. “The demon?”

Greyleaf looked back down to scowl at Laurelclaw. “They’re not a demon. They’re the farthest thing from. They’re trying to save us from a demon. Always have been.”

“The only soul StarClan can’t catch,” Redheart said softly. “And they’ve been running around the Territory warning us as well as they can. No one believes, because StarClan always manages to hide the truth.” The faintest tremor went through her body. “But not from us. Not from me. The Runagate is why I even had the chance to start this plan to leave in the first place.”

Again, it was silent. Mistface watched everyone’s tense bodies, raised fur, stiff tails and horrified expressions. Despite not feeling any better himself, he forced himself to relax.

“So how did this happen?” he said. “How did y’all learn about this, Runagate or otherwise? And how do you know it’s all true?”

Redheart and Greyleaf looked at each other. Then Redheart nodded and returned her gaze to the other six cats.

“I should start,” she said. She took a breath, shut her eyes as if reliving a painful memory, and opened them again. “It begins with a death."

[pixelatedrose]

read this and respond (if you’d like) when you aren’t in the car anymore, i don’t want you to get sick :0 !

you don’t apologize for not be able to write a lot! you didn’t have to answer my ask in the first place but it means a lot to me that you did :) also! i wanna say two things! one, i think i’ve said this before but i really like how you explain things. i’ve tried to learn how to play d&d and i think i’ve got a solid understanding of it, but it’s still hard when people say things like “10 AC”. but i don’t have to worry about that when you explain things cause you sorta dumb it down in a way that doesn’t make me feel dumb.. if that makes sense. two, i love how you showed callahan being healed in your drawing cause it just adds so much more weight to the picture. and i can’t even imagine how that fight was, dancing with death the whole time, that must’ve been so stressful. anyway! that’s about all, but you still have a lot of explaining to do (if you want and when you’re ready) mister >:0 i hope you had a lovely day and you enjoy the rest of your night, love you ro :)) !

1st: dw bout me answerin asks in the car lol I have no fuckin self control sksjshs

2nd: thank you sm m8!!! I know you've mentioned in the past that you don't play d&d or know a ton about it so I try and give little explanations where I can and it's great to hear that I do it in a non-patronizing way

3rd: heheheee okay so imma go into some more detail on the Callahan & Shade training session-

Okay, so.

To understand how we got to this point in time, we have to understand where he was

The party entered the Shadowfell- a mirror plane of existence where everything is contorted and dark and just about everything wants to kill you. This is where we were trying to get to when Callahan first joined the party.

Now Callahan didn't have a full grasp on what the Shadowfell was, really, when he went through the portal. The only one who did was Sylas, and by all the gods did he try to warn us.

Callahan was still so very very unprepared...

The very first fight in the Fell- one of the first battles Callahan has EVER been in in his life- he gets one-shotted by this monster and drops below zero hp.

When you drop below zero hp in d&d, you're Ina state of in between life and death, right on the cusp of either one and a breath's wrong move could send you toppling over the edge. You stay in this state of dying until one of three things happen. 1) you get healed. 2) you succeed three death saves and you stabilize. Or 3) you fail three death saves and you die.

Callahan had succeeded two saves, but he had also failed two. One last roll would have determined his entire fate, and I'm not known for having the best of luck when it comes to dice.

Sylas, our lovely amazing wonderful cleric boy, barely made it in time and slapped Callahan with a healing spell right after the monster died and he regained consciousness.

This...messed him up.

Callahan was absolutely shaken to his core at this very close encounter with death and he did not handle it well.

He got furiously angry, ignoring the fact that it was him that brought him to the Fell, and instead shifting the rage to the rest of the party and blaming them for his being there and, by proxy, his almost dying.

He...said some things...that shouldn't have been said. At least not like that...

And the worst part? It didn't get better. He was fitful and angry and upset at everyone for weeks.

Finally, Haru was done with Callahan's baby-bitchfit and when Callahan snapped at Monty (again), Haru got up and dragged Callahan out into the forest a little ways away from the rest of the party.

And what did he do?

Well he punched him.

Well, more than that. He told Callahan to fight back too. Soon fist-fighting turned into hitting each other with sticks, which turned into Haru having to tackle Callahan to the ground, leaving Cal the perfect opportunity to steal the dagger off his belt and ramming the pommel into his ribs.

Cal would like to say he won that fight. Haru would have something else to say.

After laying there on the ground for a moment, Callahan started to laugh. A sound that Haru had not heard in weeks, and one he didn't know he missed.

Haru explained that he wanted to teach Cal to fight so that what happened with that first monster? Where Cal nearly died?? So that that would never have to happen again.

Something about it- maybe it was something about Haru- calmed Callahan down.

And then it really hit him.

Oh fuck.

I've been a jackass for weeks to literally everyone.

It also started to hit him just how weak he really was in a fight if it ever came down to melee.

So they came back to the party together, Callahan happier than ever with little scrapes and lookin very roughed up (I won't say but the rest of the party did not in fact think they were sparring-)

Callahan apologized to Monty the next morning. The things he said specifically to him were...well...let's just say it hit harder for Monty than the others.

Monty wasn't as quick to forgive and forget. Callahan doesn't blame him.

However, that night Callahan and this new party member- Shade- were on a watch together. Now Shade is a much higher level than everyone else in the party, and is far far more powerful. He's a Hexblade Warlock, but he's also a fallen paladin (or cleric I can't remember) as WELL as a fallen Aasimar (kinda like a fallen angel but watered down). But...also probably a Shadow sorcerer?? Listen Shade is an amalgam of magic and power and idk where all of it comes from-

In any case, Shade is big powerful lad.

Now Cal and Shade are on a watch together, and Shade begins talking about Callahan's magic. He picks up a small opal stone from gauntlets he wears and focuses his magic into it. The opal glows with a black light and swirls with shadows of purple and black. He then hands the opal to Callahan and instructs him to focus his magic like he did.

When he does, the opal changes again, but this time, it swirls with bright, ever-changing array of fantastical colors. A rainbow of things that have never quite been seen before. It's extraordinary.

Shade explains that his own magic is that of the Shadowfell, it's dark and thus his magic is sewn from the shade. And then he explains that he's met other mages- ones with powers of the storm, magic of dragons- but he has never seen someone with magic like Callahan's.

Why?

Well, cause Callahan has pure, unfettered, untained, raw magic inside him.

It's an inferno of unbridled magic and it is completely and utterly entirely untamed. It cannot be controlled and it is as wild as the wind and earth itself. And sometimes, that uncontrollablity lashes out and surges forth, and sometimes things that Callahan doesn't exactly want to happen, happen.

And Callahan listens. And his heart sinks. Uncontrollable? Pure?? Absolute chaotic force of magic??? He can't stand the thought of not having a handle on his magic, because if he can't control it, how the hell is he supposed to use it to protect people??

He expresses this to Shade and the "older" man tells him that he can and should use this to his advantage.

At that moment, Callahan's magic goes wild and he surges. The wooden log they are sitting on, under Callahan's hand it starts to faintly smoke. Callahan doesn't notice, but Shade does. He cuts a small piece of rope and asks Cal to hold it for him. The rope errupts into flames and Callahan drops it in vibrant shock and distress.

Shade calms him down and explains that he can use that. He gets Callahan thinking. Asks how he can use this to help in in battle- he can set things aflame with a touch, for God's sake, what can he do to use that?

And Shade looks at Callahan's small scratches and bruises and scuffs on his clothes and turns and says "I know that look...you've been sparring, haven't you?"

Callahan nods his head. He says that Haru said he'd teach him how to fight, that he wants to- needs to- be stronger.

Shade asks if Callahan would like Shade to help him as well, help him learn how to use his magic to fight.

Callahan says yes.

They start small, Shade borrows Haru's sword in his sleep and gives it to Cal to use. Shade goes through the motions of explaining how he uses his magic to help him wear armor and wield weapons- how he manipulates the pull of power inside him into his blade, into his armor, how he makes them seem lighter and easier to use and wear.

And Callahan follows suit. He goes through the motions of swordplay, focusing and directing his magic into it. And slowly, it seems the blade gets lighter and light in his palm.

After a little while of this, Shade says that he would like to try something to really help Cal in the middle of a real battle. And he summons a demon.

Now, as Shade summons this demon, he explains that he has control over it. That the demon cannot do anything that Shade does not want it to do. The demon is not pleased with this.

In fact, with shadowy chains around its neck and wrists and ankles, it seethes and hisses and spits that it will tear and murder and shred Callahan and Shade to scraps. Shade reassures Callahan that he won't let it kill him. But he asks one last time if Callahan wants to do this.

And with a glance at this horrible creature with blood and murder in its eyes, Callahan's grasp tightens around his borrowed blade and he nods yes.

And so the fight begins.

Callahan uses his magic and filters it into the blade in his hands and tries to strike the beast. He hits it a few times, but the monster keeps hitting Callahan back, and he drops down to 1 hp.

As the demon cackles and pulls back for one final attack, Shade pulls down on the shadowy chains and restrains it. It howls in fury at this.

Shade asks Callahan if he wants to stop, that if he really wants, Shade knows a way to help Callahan keep going.

Callahan, bloody, sliced up, fighting for consciousness and blinking red drops from his eyes, hands on his sword in a white-knuckled grip, the blade digging into the ground as the only thing keeping him upright, looks Shade deep and deadly in the eyes, his goggles hung slightly cracked around his neck. His eyes have a burning flicker to them and with no hesitation to his words, he speaks. "I need to be better."

Shade takes a moment and the faintest ghost of a smile flitters onto his face and he says "That was the right answer." And he begins to heal Callahan with Greater Restoration.

Now, I could be wrong either with what the spell does or what spell he actually cast, but what happened with this spell was this: he could restore an incredible amount of hp to Callahan, but he would TAKE half the hp he restored as damage to himself. So if he healed Cal for 10 points, Shade would take 5.

This first time he ended up healing Callahan all the way back up to full.

And back to the fight they went.

This happened four more times, where Cal dropped below 10 hp and Shade had to stop to heal him for a moment.

Finally, Shade asked Callahan one last thing.

"I can do one more thing to help you learn the movement of battle, but it would mean releasing him. You don't have to do it, but-"

"You're wrong. I do have to- what would that make me if I backed down at the first sight of risk?"

"...you've made a good choice."

With that, Shade released the Demon, who was battered and torn and nearly as destroyed as Callahan himself, if not far far more. And he let out a ravenous cackle, full of craze and bloodlust and victory. And he looked Callahan directly in the eyes and told him "This is where you die!!!"

Four more rounds.

Callahan had messed up his magic once before in the fight and his magic had surged, giving him the ability to teleport short distances for the next minute.

And his magic messed up once again, poisoning a random creature near him. Luckily, it wasn't Shade, but the Demon was immune to poison anyway.

But as Callahan took hits, he dropped below 10 hp again, but there was no more looking to Shade for help anymore.

He took one last swing, a move of the blade that felt more dance-like than any sort of movement to kill, and he cut the demon clean a sunder- a trail of the blade that ran from one shoulder across to the bottom of its boney hip- and the demon let out a croaking, creaking, collapsing gasp of air that could have been mistaken for a strangled last cackle of defiance.

And then it fell over, a position of defeat that Callahan may have been had he not made the surer move.

And Callahan stood above it all.

Alive.

Alive and by his hands alone was his enemy gone.

Alive and by a blade he used with magic in his veins was he that way.

Alive and the victor over a demon.

Shade healed Callahan one last time, nearly collapsing himself from the loss of life energy. He managed to gain some of it back by summoning small imps that he then proceeded to suck the life out of, but it still took a bit of a toll on both of them.

They went back to the party where everyone lay sleeping, none knowing the exchange that had happened that night.

The spoke for a while longer, Shade telling Callahan of his past while casting the mending spell on his destroyed and torn clothes.

Their shift ended and they woke up the next pair for watch and went to bed.

And now did Callahan forget to tell anyone else about what had happened?

Yes absolutely.

Did Haru end up finding out because 1) Callahan had a fresh magical scar on his cheek and 2) Callahan forgot to give Haru back his sword?

Yes absolutely.

Was Haru pissed off that Callahan basically almost died multiple times and go into full protective boyfriend mode after he found out?

Yes absolutely.

Anyway long story time but I hope you liked it ;D

[plasticnightmaredoll]

Godzilla vs. Kong - Full Review

Ok, as promised, I have a more in-depth review for this film. My review is kind of all over the place because there was a lot to unpack, but not in a good way. The movie has all the potential there, and it got the two most important things right: the battles and the portrayal of Godzilla, Kong, and Mechagodzilla. However, everything else regarding the plot and characters felt rushed, like, a few minutes more here and there would have gone a lot way.

Anyway, this review contains all the spoilers, just a warning.

The Good

Godzilla, Kong, and Mechagodzilla were the most interesting characters in the movie. The very human charm of Kong, Godzilla's mercy towards Kong twice, and Mechagodzilla's sinister rebellion almost made up for the lack of character development from the humans.

Godzilla's display of mercy was key to his character development, and perhaps the first time a Godzilla has displayed such a trait. This Monsterverse Godzilla seems more focused on conquest only for the sake of the preservation of the planet, not to create terror and destruction. Defeating Kong was more a display of dominance, maintaining his title as King of the Monsters, than anything else.

Kong was actually like a person in his behavior, which was kind of funny but also just highlighted how uninteresting the human characters were. Kong scratching his butt after waking up from a nap was more entertaining than listening to most of the human characters speak.

Hollow Earth was like the Lost World, the land the time forgot. It's vast, beautiful, mysterious, dangerous, and fascinating all at once. The odd quirks with gravity add a surreal element to this world within the world, almost like it's something out of a dream. I honestly hope we get more movies in the Monsterverse so we can explore Hollow Earth further.

The fact that Kong's species crafted an ax from a Godzilla-like titan dorsal fin is expected behavior for a primate, but it's also pretty badass. It can absorb energy, which makes me wonder what Godzilla's dorsal plates are capable of.

All the fights were excellent: Kong vs War Bats, Godzilla vs Kong at sea, Godzilla vs Kong in Hong Kong, and Godzilla and Kong fighting against Mechagodzilla. The fight with Mechagodzilla may have been a little too short, but it was still very well done.

Some amusing music choices. I don't know why Kong got all the cool music cues but, maybe it has to do with him having more personality than any of the human characters.

I liked the reveal about Ghidorah's three heads using telepathy. I don't recall this being mentioned for other versions of this character, and it does make sense. Yes, they can talk to each other normally, but with the length of their necks, it would be easier to be able to mentally engage in conversations from time to time, especially in combat when there's so much going on and they need to coordinate fast.

I am guessing that the use of Kevin's (Ghidorah's severed left head from 2019's "King of the Monsters") brain for Mechagodzilla was the cause for his rebellion against his programming. It makes sense when you consider how he deliberately killed Walter Simmons, his "owner," and then went right after Godzilla. It fits the story that Ghidorah's brain would have taken over Mechagodzilla's body after receiving enough power to push the robot to its full potential. It also implies that Kevin may have been lying in wait until he was given enough power to take full control over Mechagodzilla.

Kong did lose to Godzilla twice, and honestly, it was inevitable. Kong may be more agile than Godzilla but he lacks tough, armor-like skin and fast regeneration. Godzilla is essentially a massive powerhouse of brute force and strength and can endure for much longer than Kong in a fight. Having Kong defeat Godzilla in the 1962 film from Toho just...didn't make much sense to me. It felt liked it was forced like the movie was meant to cater to Kong instead of Godzilla -- which I think was the point but...it didn't work for me.

Godzilla and Kong teaming up to fight Mechagodzilla gave me what wasn't provided in "King of the Monsters." I was seriously hoping the 2019 movie would have Mothra, Rodan, and Godzilla fight against Ghidorah just like in the 1964 movie, "Ghidorah, The Three-Headed Monster." It's a personal favorite of mine because of the teamwork, but "King of the Monsters" sadly didn't go that route. Fortunately, "Godzilla vs Kong" did and it paid off.

I preferred Godzilla and Kong making amends at the end of the film instead of remaining enemies. If the movie had only been about those two fighting, it would have been disappointing. Seeing as how both characters are anti-hero types in the Monsterverse, it suits them better to come together to defeat a common enemy and put their differences aside afterward out of respect toward each other.

Godzilla's level of intelligence: he realized how Kong's ax worked after engaging with it once and charged the ax later to allow Kong to slice apart Mechagodzilla.

The science behind Mechagodzilla's functionality was interesting, even if we didn't get to dive into it.

I enjoyed Jia's friendship with Kong. It was very sweet. Much better than giving Kong a hot blonde woman to simp over!

The Bad

The villains were awful. Not just awful people but awful in terms of how they were written. What the hell was Walter Simmons' deal? I guess he was seeking supremacy? His daughter was even less memorable, proving to be as one-dimensional as a piece of paper and dying almost immediately after serving her purpose in the story

I thought Team Godzilla's subplot as a whole was terribly written. It was just meant to show us Mechagodzilla in action before he fought Godzilla but we couldn't have been given something more substantial than three idiots roaming around?

This felt more like a sequel to "Kong: Skull Island" since this movie focused more on Kong than Godzilla. Why?

None of the human characters were all that interesting, even pre-existing ones like Madison and Mark Russell. Jia was a very nice little girl and served as a means of easing Kong's mind. Everyone else, though, was just there to move the plot along.

The fight with Godzilla and Kong teaming up against Mechagodzilla was good but it felt a little short. If it had been a little bit longer, it would have been perfect.

The storm that wiped out Skull Island...what the hell was that about?

The convoluted and rushed explanation of Mechagodzilla's "brain" functionality was cool but I would have preferred we didn't get all that just tossed into our lap. The movie doesn't give you much time to process this information.

Then again, the movie moves too quickly to allow you to process a lot of what's going on.

The Ugly

Ren Serizawa didn't need to be in this movie as Ren Serizawa. It's never mentioned why he is working with Apex Cybernetics to kill kaiju. I mean, we can guess that maybe he's upset his father, Ishiro, sacrificed himself to help Godzilla in "King of the Monsters," but why? It wasn't like Ishiro was killed by kaiju. Did Ren just disagree with his father's beliefs about kaiju? The movie never discusses his motivations, and he's barely given any speaking lines. He didn't need to have such a specific detail attributed to him when said detail amounted to nothing.

I don't get why Josh Valentine's character was needed in the movie. He served no real purpose other than some comic relief.

Overall, "Godzilla vs Kong" is decent entertainment, but it's the weakest entry in the Monsterverse. The battles were fun, the CGI was excellent, and the three kaiju (Kong, Godzilla, and Mechagodzilla) were great, but the story and characters need some serious work.

Final Grade: C-

Godzilla (2014): A-

Kong: Skull Island (2017): C+

Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019): A

[zrtranscripts]

Home Front, Mission 6: Phil Cheeseman Edition

Welcome to Radio Phil

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens! Welcome to Radio Phil! [laughs] It's not the most creative name, I know, but at least you know what you're getting into. You might have guessed I'm here in the radio studio by myself waiting out our current lockdown. Not that different from any of you, I'm sure, though you probably have a lot fewer cables and chairs and odd knickknacks that your co-host Zoe has been collecting and now seem to be staring at you. Yes, unicorn mug, I am talking about you. [laughs] Now before you ask, there's no need to worry about Zoe. She's safe and sound in an undisclosed location. [laughs] I'm fairly sure she's not telling me just to make herself sound all mysterious.

You know what? Let's chat a little less and move a little more. I've been picking up some of the broadcasts from Abel of Ministry workouts and I've chosen a few of my favorite exercises from the manual. But before we get started with those, let's get moving. Uh, during this next song, do whatever you like to get your heart pumping. Dance, do jumping jacks, uh, wiggle your shoulders, [laughs] what have you. And Zoe, if you're listening, I know this is one of your favorites, so wherever you are, I hope you're moving.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, it turns out that song isn't one of Zoe's favorites, and the reason I know that is she sent me a ROFFLEnet message saying so. And I quote, [imitate's ZOE's accent] “Phil, you numpty. I may be working like a dog where I am, but I still have time to listen to the show and if you don't tell everyone how I really feel about that terrible dirge, a zombie horde will be the least of your worries.” No, because obviously sending ROFFLEnet messages to your poor co-host - who can keep track of your strange opinions on songs - is just the break you need from whatever it is you're doing.

Well, luckily for you - and for me - the exercises I've picked for today are all about being ready for a battle. We'll start our mano a zom-o routine with some jabs. Begin by getting into a basic zom punching stance. Stand with your legs shoulder-width apart, arms at your sides and knees a little bit bent. Uh, if you'd prefer, you can also stay seated. Now bring your hands up to chin level, slightly to either side and in front of your face, and curl your hands into fists. If you're standing, take one step forward with your right foot.

Perfect. I can't see you, but I'm sure you look just like uh... oh, that old movie poster for Snake Alley, which despite what Zoe claims, is definitely not a heartwarming action classic that will have you rooting for the snakes. [sighs]  Now for each jab, you're going to extend your right arm forward like you're socking a zom in the face, stopping just short of fully locking out your elbows. To give that jab even more power, rotate your right shoulder forward as you throw the punch. Once your arm is all the way extended, bring it back to the starting position, and that's our jab. [laughs]

Oh, ready to put into practice? Let's do 30 seconds of jabs with your right arm. Go at your own pace and rest as you need to. Starting... now. That's it, that's it, right there. Oh yeah, you got that one! Oh, I saw his teeth fall out. Beautiful! Yeah, keep going. Yeah, you're doing brilliant. Halfway through. If it helps, you can always picture punching your least favorite zom. Although does anyone really have a favorite zom? Ah, good style! And done.

Except, of course, that now we've got to jab from the other side. This time, put your left leg in front and jab with your left arm. I'll put 30 more seconds on the clock. Starting now. That's it. Don't forget, roll in that shoulder. Beautiful, wonderful. Yeah. Very, very good. 15 seconds. And you got that one right in the eye! Or the jaw. Definitely somewhere painful. Keep going. Ah, wonderfully done. And we're done. Shake those arms out and get ready to do a victory lap while I play something appropriately heroic. If you think you've got a few more jabs in you, you can keep going during the break. But otherwise, this is your time to rest and celebrate.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: W-w-welcome back! I hope you enjoyed celebrating your triumph. I did a bit of an interpretive victory dance myself, uh, while reading a very thorough explanation by one Zoe Crick of the merits of Snake Alley. Apparently, [imitates ZOE's accent] "It starred the most adorable boa constrictor with the cutest little tongue ever seen on the screen." As I recall, it eats a full-grown man in the middle of act two, but to each their own.

Now where were we? Oh yes. You've delivered your jabs, and now it's time to play a little defense with a side to side shuffle. This move lets you get out of the way of any danger, whether that's a zom or a vicious yet somehow adorable snake. Let's start by getting back in that fighting stance, legs shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, and fists up. This time, try to get a little lower , as if you were thinking about doing a squat but changed your mind halfway down. If you'd prefer, though, you can stay standing all the way up or do the exercise seated and just move your feet, whatever works best for you.

Instead of stepping forward, this time you'll step straight out to the right with your right foot. No need to take a big step, but you'll want your feet to be further apart than they were before. Now step your left foot into the space that your right foot was in before it moved. It's almost like your right foot is you and your left foot is the zombie trying to catch you, but never quite making it. Now do the same thing two more times, right foot stepping straight over to the right and then left foot taking its place. And that's a side shuffle to the right. To go back the way you came from, start with your left foot, taking it to the left, and then having your right foot try to catch up. Do that two more times and you've side shuffled right back to where you started. Just shake your legs out to relax them.

Now the side shuffle is meant to be used to do quick dodging and weaving, so let's get back in our stance and pick up the pace. Go as quickly as works for you, shuffling first to the right and then back to the left. Let's do this for a minute, if you can. And go! That's 15 seconds. Right now I'm shuffling over to ROFFLEnet because someone is sending me messages instead of doing their training, but you keep going. Halfway through, and here's a tip from Zoe. "If you have extra energy at the end of each shuffle, reach down with the arm on the side you were shuffling towards and pretend you're picking up a kitten to cuddle." Only 15 seconds to go. I know your legs are burning, but you can do this! Leave those zoms in the dust! And done! [laughs] Nice work.

[sighs] Oh, time for a rest, I think. Here's some music perfect for stroking cats - just for you, Zoe - or more shuffling, if you feel up to it.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: And we're back again, just in time for a little wager. [laughs] Zoe's made me a bet during our dance rest break. If I win, she reveals her secret location. If she wins, I have to play the soundtrack to the climactic Snake Alley Rattlesnake Tango, and none of us want that, trust me. So here's the wager: I have to turn away from simulated zombie violence and instead successfully lead you through one of Zoe's favorite exercises, the sit-up, which actually could be used to lie in wait in tall grass and then pop up to grab a zombie by the leg, so it fits with our zombie battle royale theme of the day.

Ready? Start by laying down on your back on the floor. If you have a yoga mat or even a folded blanket or towel, you can lay on that to give your body something softer to rest on. Even the carpet would be good so that you're not directly on a hard floor. Bring your knees up so that the bottoms of your feet are flat on the ground. Now it's time to pick your range of motion. The larger it is, the more energy and strength the sit-up takes, so we'll start big and then talk about a few ways to modify.

Option one is to start with your arms back behind you so that the backs of your hands are resting on the floor. Now you're going to use your stomach muscles to raise your torso from a lying to an upright position. Your arms will come all the way forward and tap the ground on either side of your feet. If coming that far doesn't work for you, you can raise your torso a little less and tap on the top of your knees instead.

You can also vary your starting arm position by either putting the fingertips of each hand just behind each ear so that your arms almost look like wings, or resting them gently on your legs. Just remember that if your fingers are behind your head, don't tug on your ears or head or hair to come up, it's not good for your neck. Once you are all the way upright, lower your upper body back to your starting position in a controlled motion. Try not to just flop down. Okay, let's try one more slowly. Come up and then go down. Wonderful.

Zoe, I hope you're ready to reveal all your secrets - or at least this particular one, anyway - because we're putting 60 seconds on the clock to do as many sit-ups as we can. Start your sit-ups... now! Ah, you're doing great! We're 15 seconds in and I'm sure Zoe has already conceded defeat. Keep going. Halfway through! Remember to only sit up as far as you can manage without overstraining yourself. Only 15 seconds left to go! You've got this. And we're done!

You all did wonderfully, which means that Zoe has to give us a clue about where she's riding out this lockdown. While we wait for that, stand back up and let's get ready for our reveal with one more dance break. Try using the time to do that dance move you've always loved but might have been a bit embarrassed to do in public? Now's the time.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hope you enjoyed the dance break. [laughs] I'll be honest with you, I spent it doing the robot. I'm not very good at it. I think Zoe once described it as looking like the Tin Man suddenly got electrocuted. And then fell into a swimming pool. And then got electrocuted again. [laughs] She doesn't mince her words, I'll give her that. Which means she should have plenty to say about where she's holed up while we stretch out. You can do whatever stretch works best for you. I'm going to start with bringing my left arm across my chest and supporting it with my right while trying to puzzle out this first clue.

[imitates ZOE's accent] “Wherever I am, I can tell you this: it's the cat's meow.” Well, that's about as much use as a chocolate fire guard. Though Zoe did make that reference to scooping up kittens earlier, and if anyone could manage to find a cat in the middle of a zombie lockdown, it would be her. And now switching arms, just in time for a hopefully much better clue, which is, [imitates ZOE's accent] “It's just one woman and her cats here. Honestly Phil, I'm starting to think you don't even listen when I tell you things.” One woman and her cats... hmm. I need to think about this. Listeners, uh, why don't you carry on stretching through this next song? Or have a go at some dancing yourself, if the mood takes you. You can't be any worse at the robot than I am.

~

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I figured it out. Zoe's secret hideout. One woman and her cats. There was a person on ROFFLEnet who asked for help relocating cats from a house that had fallen into disrepair before this whole zombie situation began. I remember now. I said something about professional cat herding and Zoe came up with a whole scheme for a competition. Like that old sheepdog show, One Man and His Dog, only with cats and treats and lots of jumping.

Stretching obviously gets my brain working. Oh, uh, next I'm bringing my left arm over my head and leaning to the right while I puzzle the rest out. Hmm. Zoe must have been helping with the cat resettlement when the zombies got loose, and the kennel has access to the radio and to ROFFLEnet. That has to be it. Not to mention that the kennel also has dogs, rabbits, a turtle, and even a couple of snakes. Switching to my right arm overhead and leaning to the left to give Zoe time to congratulate me for being the next best thing to Sherlock Holmes.

Oh. [imitates ZOE's accent] “Yes, Phil, I am at the kennel. Only one here, so I've got plenty of animals to keep me in line. Not so different from our show, really. But in truth, I miss you and I look forward to doing the show together and preventing you from playing that one ridiculous song ever again.” [sighs] Me too, Zoe. Me, too. Well, I hope that wherever you all are, you've got something warm and comforting around you, like a cuddly toy, or the sound of a friendly voice. And thanks for listening. We may be far from each other, but it's always good to know you're being heard. So for now, Cheeseman out.

~

[stayextrafrosty]

I am Your Future, I am Your Past: Chapter 4

A Roswell New Mexico soulmates AU

I enjoy writing flashbacks too much.

Also, my love of Fall Out Boy always finds its way into my writing so... sorry

Read on AO3

-

Alex stared at the ceiling, racking his brain for some sort of logical explanation. Tessa was not some god or angel. She cared deeply for people and was by no means perfect. If he remembered correctly, perfection was a requirement of celestial bodies.

He groaned, pulling himself up from the couch. He needed to go somewhere. Anywhere that wouldn’t let him be alone with his thoughts. He would go see Liz. That always helped. He didn’t know if he could face Maria right now. Whatever Michael was telling her was a lie. He could feel it.

He tried listening to the radio on the way to the Crashdown but nothing ever stuck. Every song that played just annoyed him and every podcast on the local stations was about Aliens. He had grown tired of rumors.

Even the worst traffic was manageable in a small town like Roswell. The streets looked crowded but rarely was there any delay. But today was different. Cops directed the traffic away from where he needed to go. He turned off to a side street, still remembering all the ways to avoid being seen.

He pulled up to the Crashdown only to find police cars with their lights on. He parked his car in the back next to the dumpster before walking around front. He looked around and saw Max first.

“Hey! What’s going on?” He ducked under the police tape and one of the other officers stopped him.

“Sir, this is a crime scene—”

“Easy, Osorio. He’s a friend of the family,” Max said, walking up to them. The cop tipped his hat and headed over to the larger group.

“Max, where’s Liz? And Rosa?” Alex had seen his fair share of hate crimes directed at their family. It doesn’t usually require this much police involvement.

“You shouldn’t be here, Manes.” He laughed humorlessly. Was Max really trying to make him leave his friends?

“The hell are you talking about? What’s going on?” He straightened his shoulders, shifting his feet slightly. He was a commanding officer of the air force; he wasn’t going anywhere until he knew what was going on. Max grabbed his arm, pulling him to the side. His whispers were angry.

“Alex, it is not safe for you here.” His eyes widened as he glanced over Max’s shoulder. This was something targeted? At him? He yanked his arm away from Max.

“I’m going inside.” He walked as quickly as he could. Max would have to handcuff him if he wanted him to comply.

He pushed the doors open, taking in the broken glass and tables. Liz and Arturo stood toward the back of the restaurant. Neither of them seemed hurt so he allowed himself to release a breath.

“Liz,” he called. She looked up at him, her face tear-stained. He rushed over to hug her. “Where’s Rosa?”

“She wasn’t here when it happened, thank god.” She paused for a moment, seeming to realize who he was. “Shit Alex, you need to get out of here.” He shook his head.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? What the hell is going on,” he demanded. He looked around and then he saw the graffiti. Sprayed across the wall were giant red letters.

Bring Alex Manes or everyone will die. The old cattle ranch.

He could hardly comprehend what he was reading. Why wouldn’t they just come after him directly? Why go through all this trouble just to get his attention?

“How did this even happen while you were open?”

“Flashbang. Multiple actually.” Alex turned to the new voice. A boy with green hair and rubber gloves held three flashbangs. They didn’t appear homemade. They could have easily been official US Army gear.

“And who are you,” he asked cautiously.

“Forrest Long. Weapons consultant for the Roswell police department. By the look on your face… I’m guessing you’re Alex?” Forrest offered a sympathetic smile.

“Those look like something professionally made,” he said without answering the question. He hummed in agreement, looking impressed.

“Definitely. US army quality, actually. Did you serve?” Alex was almost put off by how friendly he was being. Shouldn’t he be questioning him about the graffiti, not his background?

“Uh, yea. Though I’m on leave now.” Forrest smiled at him.

“I thought so. You give off that vibe,” he said casually. Another officer called to him. He looked over his shoulder and gave a polite nod. “Sorry, duty calls. Hope to see you around Alex. And don’t worry about that. I’m sure we’ll catch them.” Alex smiled, thankful for the reassurance. Max took his place as he left.

“Alex. The sheriff thinks it would be best if you went into protective custody. Or at least stay home until we find this person.” He raised his eyebrows in shock.

“You can’t be serious? Did you forget I served in the Air force? It’s literally my job to protect people and you’re not even gunna let me do that,” he asked, enraged. Max opened his mouth to retort, but he cut him off. “Everyone that was here was threatened! I’m not going to sit back and wait while you guys do a half-assed job at finding this guy!” Liz rested her hand on his arm.

“Alex—”

“No, Liz. I’ll figure this out myself. I will not let other people get hurt because of me.” He stormed out the front door, fully intending to drive over to that ranch right then.

Whatever this creep wanted, Alex was going to find out. He just had to stop at home and pack extra weapons. He would put on a bulletproof vest. Go in at 1900 hours. Use the shadows as cover. He almost made it to his car before Max stopped him again, shaking him from his daydream.

“Hey. You do not get to rush in there without thinking,” Max scolded.

“I’d rather die than let anyone else get hurt because I was too scared to show my face,” he yelled back. He’d made the mistake before…

“Think about Michael!” He froze. Michael’s name woke him up. His rage vanished. “If you get hurt…” Max didn’t need to finish the sentence. He clenched his fist, slamming it against the side of his car.

“Damnit!” He looked back at Max. He watched him sympathetically.

“Look, I know it sucks. But I swear to you, we will figure this out. Do not go to that cattle ranch,” he promised. Alex ran a hand through his hair. There was nothing he could do. He was useless. “Call Michael and tell him what’s going on. This could be a trial.” He nodded, opening his car door.

Alex watched Max walk back to the front of the building. He covered the mark with his hand. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if Michael got hurt again. The way he was talking earlier made it sound like he didn’t have a choice. He would be hurt again and there was nothing Alex could do about it.

He pulled onto the road, pressing Michael’s contact. The Bluetooth in his car was finally working. Would he be annoyed? Maybe he should just go back over there. Then again, if Maria was still there…

He shook his head. He was happy for them. They were good together and seemed healthy. Something he and Michael never were. They didn’t have time to figure it out.

“Alex, what’s up? Weren’t you just here a few hours ago?” Michael’s joking tone helped relieve some anxiety.

“We have a problem, Guerin. Someone all but destroyed the Crashdown.” He sighed.

“Probably Wyatt Long and his friends. Bunch of racist pigs. I’ve kicked their asses enough times they don’t go to the Wild Pony anymore though.” Alex wanted to laugh at his cockiness. Too bad that wasn’t the case.

“It wasn’t them. It was a targeted attack… At me.” Michael went silent on the other end. He was worried the phone disconnected until he spoke.

“Are you ok?” Alex could hear the shaking in his voice. He rested a hand on his chest, feeling that something was wrong.

“Yes, I’m fine. The attacker left a note. They disoriented everyone before writing a message on the wall. ‘Bring Alex Manes or everyone dies.’ I can’t just leave this alone.”

“Did they give a time or location?” Alex turned onto his street, hardly noticing he was in his neighborhood.

“No time but they said they wanted to go to the old cattle ranch. I’m guessing they’re talking about the one just outside of town.” He and Michael had spent nights out there stargazing when he needed to get away from his father.

“Well then they’re not professional. What kind of criminal doesn’t set a time limit for a bounty?” Alex pulled into his driveway.

“They’re some kind of professional. They used Army level flashbangs.” Alex heard shuffling on the other end of the line, followed by loud clangs of what he guessed was metal.

“Ok. I’ll go with Max to check it out. You stay home where it’s safe.” Alex couldn’t stop the sarcastic laugh that followed.

“Fuck, now you sound just like him. Did you miss the part where I said I can’t leave this alone? I’m not just going to hide.”

“Please, Alex…” He sucked in a breath. Was Michael Guerin begging? As much as he wanted to give in, he stood his ground, though he softened his voice.

“If this is some sort of trial… I need to be with you. We’re better off together,” Alex reasoned. He didn’t have time to consider how it may have sounded. He heard him sigh again.

“Fine. I’ll be by tomorrow with Max to figure something out.”

“Fine.”

“Why do you have to be so bullheaded,” Michael teased. His tone lightened considerably, but he could still feel that something was wrong.

“And why are you pretending to be calm about the issue?” He sighed heavily into the phone.

“Because.” Alex shook his head and scoffed. “What do you want me to say Alex? That the idea of anyone hurting you makes me want to hurt them ten times worse? Somehow I think you’d frown on that.” He had no idea how to respond. The idea was barbaric, but that certainly didn’t stop the flutter in his heart. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The line clicked off.

He sat there, considering his words. The mixed signals were dizzying. Sometimes he’s talking about Maria and pushing him away. Other times he holds him close or says things like that. Alex needed off whatever ride they were on.

-

Michael cursed Max sometimes. He understood they needed backup but who was this guy? Some ex-military weapons specialist? Sure, he seemed nice enough but should they really be getting outsiders involved in this curse business?

“He’s one of the best we got. Jenna couldn’t come because she’s stuck questioning witnesses. This isn’t exactly official business. Actually, the sheriff specifically told me not to go to this place.” He was grateful for him bending the rules. He knew Max could get fired for this. He looked over at the guy with green hair talking on his phone.

“What was his name? Forrest?”

“You’re not always the smartest person in the room, Michael” He rolled his eyes

“Yea yea.” Forrest hung up and made his way over to them.

“Sorry about that. Family crap. What’s the plan?” He stood with his back straight and feet planted. He showed complete respect for Max even though he was probably higher ranked from a military standpoint.

“This is my cousin Michael. He’s helping us out with this. He’s a friend of Alex’s,” Max said. He reached out his hand. Forrest took it with a smile.

Were he and Alex friends? He wasn’t sure. They talked about things, but it wasn’t the normal stuff. Did he still like music? Does he still have a bag of cheap makeup? What was his favorite color? It was always about curses and the past.

“I look forward to working with you. If Max trusts you, then so do I.” Michael gave a stiff smile and nodded.

Shortly after, he was climbing into the passenger seat of Max’s undercover car. Forrest followed behind them in a van that had a handful of tech and tools. He watched the desert zip by, not usually having the chance to take in the scenery.

A small town like Roswell didn’t have the funds to have tree’s imported so there was mostly just cactus and some bushes. They needed rain otherwise there was going to be issues for the farms on the outskirts of town.

The cattle ranch where they were headed seemed too specific. He and Alex had spent a lot of time there. Michael had often thought about it while he was gone. They were some of the good memories they had before he started pushing him away…

-

Alex shivered next to him, curling up against his side and burying his face in his shoulder. Michael smiled, wrapping his arm tighter around his waist.

“You sure you don’t want to go back? It’s a bit colder than normal.” Alex shook his head.

“Not tonight. With Greg dropping the news that he was leaving for the reservation, my dad’s in an extra bad mood.” He pressed a kiss to his head. He wanted nothing more than to get a small trailer where they could live together. Then maybe Alex would have a chance at the life he wanted.

And maybe they could go through it together.

The curse hadn’t manifested. Maybe they wouldn’t have to go through more pain and suffering at the hands of the gods or whatever. He watched as clouds started to cover the stars.

“Hey, I understand about not going home but we should find some shelter.” He felt him shift to look up at the sky.

“Let it come,” he said, sounding almost depressed. Michael chuckled.

“You say that now but what happens when we’re both soaked and looking for someplace warm?” Alex shook his head, laughing along with him.

“I mean, you’re pretty hot so…” Michael was glad it was dark so Alex couldn’t see the blush. He was always surprised by how bold he could be. And he loved that about him.

He pressed another kiss to his forehead, then to his cheek and finally his lips. Alex laughed into the kiss but responded eagerly. He ran his hands up his chest to rest on his jaw, deepening the kiss. He ignored the pain in his hand to hold him tighter.

Lightning cracked and the sky opened up, dumping water onto both of them. They both burst out laughing, scrambling to collect the blankets and make it back into the truck. Jumping out of the back of the truck, Michael yanked the door open, shoving blankets inside. Alex handed him the last of them. Michael took in the image of the soaked boy.

“What—”

Michael pulled him in, kissing him again. The rain soaked him clean through but he didn’t care and Alex didn’t seem to either. They held each other, letting the rain fall around them. Alex’s hands were tangled in his hair. They separated, just breathing each other in.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.

Michael wanted to be foolish enough to believe him…

-

A particularly rough bump shook him from his daze. Rain, the cattle ranch, and promises that were broken too soon. He looked around the now residential streets.

“Welcome back to the land of the living. You know I said your name like ten times?” Max glanced over at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry. Just old memories.” Max rolled to a stop on the curb in front of Alex’s house. He turned off the engine but grabbed his arm before he could get out.

“I still think it’s a bad idea to bring him with us,” he said. Michael was in full agreement, but it didn’t seem like there was much they could do.

“I’m aware it’s a bad idea but if you can talk Alex out of it, please do.” They got out of the car, walking over to Forrest next to the van.

“We picking someone up,” he asked, seeming slightly confused? Max nodded and started up to the front door. They didn’t even have to knock before Alex had opened up welcoming them all in. He did a double take when he saw Forrest.

“Not to be rude or anything but what are you doing here?”

“Max asked for my help, though I should be the one asking the same question. We don’t usually bring the target of the bad guys on missions,” he said, though not accusing. Did they know each other?

The three of them stepped inside. The inside of his house was almost claustrophobic with all of them. Michael couldn’t stop looking between Alex and Forrest. Alex was smiling, being more open. Alex lead them all to the kitchen, offering water.

“What’s the plan? I can go in as bait, I have vests and the like.” He wanted to shoot down the idea immediately. Thankfully, Max was way ahead of him.

“No way. The idea is to keep you safe Manes.”

“You don’t just throw a hunk of meat into a wolves den and expect it not to attack,” he added. Alex sighed, looking between the two of them.

“I mean. It’s not the worst operation plan. We used to do stuff like that all the time in the Army,” Forrest said. Michael wanted to punch him in the face. This is why they shouldn’t have brought in outsiders. Alex was looking at Forrest appreciatively.

“He goes in, wearing a bullet proof vest, hell we could probably throw him in full combat gear if we want to be extra cautious. This person obviously wants him for something so we really have no reason to think he’d get hurt anyway. I have thermal imaging in the back of the truck. We can use that to pick out the assailant. We’ll all have weapons and we open fire when they show themselves. If you want to get greedy, we can have Alex question them beforehand but I recommend making sure they’re immobile first.”

The way he talked made it hard to argue. Some details were missing though. Before Michael had time to say anything about the obvious plot holes, Forrest continued.

“I can walk with Alex, make it seem more like we’re giving him up so no one else gets hurt. They’ll probably ask me to surrender my weapons, which I will do. We’re going to need the cover of the night for this. Not that I don’t trust you two and your stealth but just to be safe. Alex, I’m sure you can handle yourself but I’m going to need confirmation you’ll run if things go south.” His face fell slightly. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Alex run. Walk quickly yes, but never run. Did his leg allow for it?

He reached down, lifting his pant leg. Forrest followed everyone’s gaze to the metal and plastic prosthetic.

“I would say yes but I haven’t quite gotten to the running part of physical therapy.” Forrest blinked a couple times before smiling at Alex.

“Then you can just count on me to have your back,” he said, raising a hand to salute him. His little smile returned. Michael clenched his fists, wondering when the last time that smile was directed at him. He turned toward Max. “What do you think? You’re the boss.”

He and Michael looked at each other. The plan itself was simple but with the little information they had, it was pretty solid. As much as he hated the idea of Alex’s safety being anyone’s hands but his, a former soldier was probably the best bet.

“I can’t disagree with anything you said so I’d say we’re good then. We’ll ship out at 8. We’re going on the assumption the person who wants him will be there. Considering they didn’t give a time. We have to also consider the person who wants him might not be there at all. We need to take whoever shows up alive.” Forrest and Alex nodded.

“We’ll talk about positions as we drive later, see what kind of cover we have,” Michael added. Everyone nodded. “If you’re waiting for a ‘hands in’ thing it’s not happening,” he joked after a few seconds of silence. Forrest grinned and Alex chuckled. Max just shook his head.

“Let’s go get food, Michael. We’ll all need it,” he said, heading for the front door. The tugging at his heart tried to keep him from leaving but he couldn’t think of a good reason not to leave him with Forrest. He glanced over his shoulder at Alex, who just watched him. Then he turned and followed Max. He was almost out the front door when he heard Forrest say something to Alex.

“We should go get something too. Wanna come with?” His blood boiled but he forced himself to keep walking, digging his nails into his palms.

“Sure.” And he had to pretend his heart wasn’t ripped out of his chest.

-

Alex sat in the van with Forrest. Whatever he had felt earlier had him worried. He had physically grabbed at his mark, then had to try and play it off as stress tension in his shoulders. The drive thru was running slow but Forrest had insisted the place was worth it.

“All I’m saying is good Mexican food or even tex-mex doesn’t have a drive-up option,” He said, laughing. He shook his head.

“You only say that because you’ve never had this.” The window finally opened and the worker handed the bag of food over. He thanked her and pulled into a parking spot to adjust how things were being held.

He handed the bag of food to Alex and he had to admit that it smelled delicious. He slipped his wallet into his back pocket before pulling out of the spot slowly. Someone in another car honked and the van jerked as he hit the brakes. He laughed as Forrest shook his head.

“Am I going to die due to your inability to drive a car without a rear window?” He watched the SUV drive past. He raised his finger, telling him to wait.

“In my defense, the person obviously ignored that I had the right of way,” he said, smiling.

“Suuure,” he drawled. Watching this guy be so comfortable with himself made Alex hopeful. He wasn’t bad looking either. Did he like him? Maybe a bit. But with his luck, he’d be straight. He could rarely judge correctly.

“You into music,” he asked?

“Yea. Used to play guitar in my angsty teen days.” He laughed and turned on the radio. He tuned until he found an alternative station. There wasn’t much other than country and top 40. The signal wasn’t great, but it was enough.

“Well this station plays a lot of stuff from the two thousands so as long as you’re still ok with listening to angsty pop-punk.” He smiled, watching him tap along to an old Fall Out Boy song.

Ok. He really liked him.

Alex half sang along, still embarrassed about singing in front of people. It was easy talking to him. They shared interests. He understood some of the things he went through while at war. They pulled into his driveway; Max’s car wasn’t back yet.

“This was fun. Maybe once all this is over, we can go out again?” He blinked in surprise. Wait… He’s serious.

“Uh…”

“You don’t have to answer right now. Best not to make promises on adrenaline.” He took the bag from his lap and hopped out of the car. Alex shook himself from shock and followed him. He half jogged to catch up, still unsure of what his leg could take.

He pulled the keys from his pocket, unlocking the door. How could he tell? Was it obvious? Was that even a bad thing? Was he seriously interested?

They moved through the house and back to the kitchen. Forrest pulled the food out of the bag, setting it down in front of two seats at the table, respectively. He watched him.

“How did you…” The green haired boy glanced up at him then smiled sympathetically.

“I didn’t. But I figured I’d give it a shot. Not exactly a fan of the closet after spending so much time in it.” Alex was jealous. He was out but only to his close friends. He’d tell someone who asked but he wasn’t comfortable displaying it openly.

“Look. I’m comfortable with myself. But if you’re not, then I won’t force you to do anything you’re not ready for. If you ever feel like giving it a try, just give me a call.” Alex smiled at him. Maybe it was time he learned to be ok. His father didn’t control him anymore. There was no reason for him to be scared.

“If your offer still stands… I’d like to hang out when this is all over.” Forrest grinned at him, nodding appreciatively.

The two of them sat at the table, chatting casually. Alex refused to admit the food was good, even though he ate everything. Then again, he had always been a nervous eater. Whatever happened tonight, he had to make sure it ended. He needed to protect his friends.

The front door swung open, Alex hearing Michael and Max talk quietly. He looked over at the clock, realizing it was almost time to leave. Time had never gotten away from him like it did while he was talking to Forrest. He needed to mentally prepare. Alex cursed his lack of awareness. It was one of the first things they taught in basic. Always be aware.

“Hey, don’t panic. I’ve got your back,” Forrest said, resting a hand on his arm.

As much as Alex wanted to relax, the only way this mission was going to go smoothly was if he was in fight mode. Shut down all emotions. No thinking. Stick to the plan.

A quick stab of pain in his chest made him turn. He locked eyes with Michael. How long did they just stare at each other? It felt like years, but it must have only been a moment. His eyes had glanced down at Forrest’s hand on his arm. He saw the way his jaw clenched. The muscles in his neck. The way he scrunched his nose when he sniffled.

They looked away from each other, Alex casually pulling his arm away from Forrest, concentrating to make sure it didn’t seem like he was embarrassed to have it there. Although that might have been the case. He liked Forrest. There was just something off about Michael seeing it.

“You guys ready for this? Alex,” Max asked. He nodded, letting his mind shift into battle mode.

“I’ll grab some extra supplies. Be right back.” He stood, his arm brushing against Michael’s as he passed.

“Do you need help with anything,” Michael asked before he got too far. He paused. He didn’t really, but something felt off.

“Sure.” He followed him in silence. He stood at the door, just watching Alex move about his room. He pulled open the closet, moving clothing to the side to access the safe where he kept guns and ammo.

“Do you like him?” The question caused him to miss a number for the combination. He shook his head and restarted, laughing at his suggestion. He just needed to play it cool.

“Max? I mean he’s alright,” he joked, trying to deflect.

“You know what I mean, Manes.” The flutter in his heart returned. He pulled the safe open, looking for as much time to come up with an answer as possible.

“What if I do? Careful Guerin, you almost sound jealous.” He tried to keep the bite out of his voice. What right did he have to be jealous? He was the one always pushing him away. He stood from the safe, slowly turning back towards him. Michael's fists were clenched.

“I just mean that you should be careful. Relationships complicate things. Remember Maria. I have to keep her in the dark so she doesn’t get hurt. I’d just hate for you to have to go through that,” he said, not meeting his eyes. Even without the mark, Alex knew his tells at this point.

“And you still try to lie to me. You’ve never been good at that,” he said, focused on loading his gun. He snapped the mag into place, double checking the safety was on before setting it down.

He felt Michael’s presence beside him. He had moved silently. Alex looked up, almost bumping his nose against his. He didn’t move away. A soldier never backed down. No matter how hard and fast his heart was beating. Michael glanced down, then proceeded to lay a hand over his heart.

“Remember that works both ways,” he said softly.

He backed away, picking up the boxes of ammo he had laid on the bed. He left the room without another word. Alex took a deep breath, calming himself. He would worry about that later. He had to focus on the mission.

He walked back to the closet, pushing things around, looking for the bulletproof vest. Once he finally located the damned thing, trying to pull it out was more effort than planned. Stuck on the closet door. Alex cursed, trying to find where the strap had snagged on. He groaned in frustration. There was a chuckle from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, Forrest stood there with a grin.

“Need some help with that?” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

“Yea, I guess so.” Forrest came and reached over him, close enough to smell whatever cologne he was wearing. So different from Michael. More of a spice. He unhooked the vest from a metal part of the door and pulled it out.

Alex smiled and stood with him. He looked back at the closet, thinking if there was anything else he needed. Then he shut the doors.

“Thanks. Probably just stress. I’ll be fine once we get going.” Forrest rested a hand on his shoulder.

“I have no doubt. You are a hero after all.” Alex raised an eyebrow. “I do my research purple heart guy.” Alex couldn’t stop the grin. He was flattered. He had gone through the effort of learning about him.

“Well I’m glad I’ll have you there as my backup,” he said, picking up the gun from earlier. He reached for the bulletproof vest too, but Forrest shook his head.

“I’ve got this. Let’s go.” He followed him back to the other two. Once they reached the kitchen, they all fell silent. The pressure to make sure nothing went wrong weighed on all of them. Alex straightened his shoulders and lifted his head.

“Let’s do this.”