#no apparently rigidly complaint

[bee-whistler]

Y’know, I wanna learn to forgive and let things go but I also wanna hunt down the ballet teacher who demanded I remove my 3-year-old daughter from her COMMUNITY COLLEGE ballet class 22 years ago (which made the poor lil thing cry), so I can tell her off properly for being an authoritarian, self-important, delusional big fish in an infinitesimal pond with no concept of fun or of what a child is and tell her to pirouette her New York ballet washout self straight to Hell.

[mytwilightimagines13]

Amnesia (Book Two)(Part Eleven)

Irina's Fate

Aro did not rejoin his anxious guard waiting on the north side of the clearing; instead, he waved them forward. Edward started backing up immediately, pulling Bella’s arm and Emmett's. They hurried backward, keeping their eyes on the advancing threat. Jacob retreated slowest, the fur on his shoulders standing straight up as he bared his fangs at Aro. Renesmee grabbed the end of his tail as they retreated; she held it like a leash, forcing him to stay with them. Soon, everyone arrived at their side of the field again, leaving only fifty yards between them - a distance any of the vampires could leap in just a fraction of a second. Caius began arguing with Aro at once. "How can you abide this infamy? Why do we stand here impotently in the face of such an outrageous crime, covered by such a ridiculous deception?" He held his arms rigidly at his sides, his hands curled into claws. Maeryn felt the same. Why not just attack already? The Cullens have been a trouble ever since Bella and Edward met. And now they think they are invincible due her shield. Maeryn swore that she would break that little shield of hers and let Jane have a go at her. Fury was burning through her newborn body, the hope for a fight was growing fast, making the newborn more eager by the minute. Alec, who had noticed his mate’s behavior, grabbed her hand once more and stroked it with his thumb, trying to calm her down. She needed to keep her head straight and remember the strategy they had discussed. However, Alec didn’t feel soothed at all. Never had he cared for an outcome of a battle, until now. The large group of vampires in front of him worried him. They, ofcourse, would first go for the three of them, and especially Maeryn was an interesting target, seeing as her gift can tamper with Bella’s shield and destroy many vampires within seconds. She may even be a greater threat than his sister and him. "Because it's all true," Aro told him calmly. His voice brought the two vampires back to their attention. "Every word of it. See how many witnesses stand ready to give evidence that they have seen this miraculous child grow and mature in just the short time they've known her. That they have felt the warmth of the blood that pulses in her veins." Aro's gesture swept from Amun on one side across to Siobhan on the other. Caius reacted oddly to Aro's soothing words, starting ever so slightly at the mention of witnesses. The anger drained from his features, replaced by a cold calculation. He glanced at the Volturi witnesses with an expression that looked vaguely... nervous. Maeryn glanced at the angry mob, too, and saw immediately that the description no longer applied. The frenzy for action had turned to confusion. Whispered conversations seethed through the crowd as they tried to make sense of what had happened. Maeryn quickly returned her attention back to the foes, anger rising up again. Cowards. Caius was frowning, deep in thought. Maeryn saw Bella getting anxious and she inspected her shield, flexing it into a low, wide dome that arced over their company. Maeryn knew she could try and break her shield now, but decided against it. Maybe if Bella would get overconfident, she would eventually lower her shield a little, causing weak spots that Maeryn could break through. Maeryn followed every movement the shield made. First, Bella pulled the elastic armor very carefully closer. Carlisle was the farthest forward; she sucked the shield back inch by inch, trying to wrap it as exactly to his body as she could. Her shield seemed to want to cooperate. It hugged his shape; when Carlisle shifted to the side to stand nearer to Tanya, the elastic stretched with him, drawn to his spark. Maeryn had to admit, she was quite fascinated by the shield, which made her even more angry. It seemed like hours, yet it had only been seconds. Caius was still deliberating. "The werewolves," he murmured at last. Bella seemed frightened for a moment, realizing that her shield did no longer cover the shape shifters, and drew the shield tighter in, until Amun and Kebi - the farthest edge

of our group - were outside with the wolves. She edged outward again, but she only covered the Alpha. Their minds must have been interconnected, protecting all the wolves. "Ah, brother...," Aro answered Caius's statement with a pained look. "Will you defend that alliance, too, Aro?" Caius demanded. "The Children of the Moon have been our bitter enemies from the dawn of time. We have hunted them to near extinction in Europe and Asia. Yet Carlisle encourages a familiar relationship with this enormous infestation - no doubt in an attempt to overthrow us. The better to protect his warped lifestyle." Edward cleared his throat loudly and Caius glared at him. Aro placed one thin, delicate hand over his own face as if he was embarrassed for the other ancient. "Caius, it's the middle of the day," Edward pointed out. He gestured to Jacob. "These are not Children of the Moon, clearly. They bear no relation to your enemies on the other side of the world." "You breed mutants here," Caius spit back at him. Edward's jaw clenched and unclenched, then he answered evenly, "They aren't even werewolves. Aro can tell you all about it if you don't believe me." Maeryn could see the confusion on Bella’s face as she shot a mystified look at Jacob. He lifted his huge shoulders and let them drop - a shrug. He didn't know what Edward was talking about, either. Poor things. They don’t even know what they are themselves. "Dear Caius, I would have warned you not to press this point if you had told me your thoughts," Aro murmured. "Though the creatures think of themselves as werewolves, they are not. The more accurate name for them would be shape-shifters. The choice of a wolf form was purely chance. It could have been a bear or a hawk or a panther when the first change was made. These creatures truly have nothing to do with the Children of the Moon. They have merely inherited this skill from their fathers. It's genetic - they do not continue their species by infecting others the way true werewolves do." Caius glared at Aro with irritation and something more - an accusation of betrayal, maybe. "They know our secret," he said flatly. Edward looked about to answer this accusation, but Aro spoke faster. "They are creatures of our supernatural world, brother. Perhaps even more dependent upon secrecy than we are; they can hardly expose us. Carefully, Caius. Specious allegations get us nowhere." Caius took a deep breath and nodded. They exchanged a long, significant glance. Maeryn knew the instruction behind Aro's careful wording. False charges weren't helping convince the watching witnesses on either side; Aro was cautioning Caius to move on to the next strategy. Yes, Maeryn knew. Yet she wished something would occur that would start off the fight. Maeryn, however, wondered if the reason behind the apparent strain between the two ancients - Caius's unwillingness to share his thoughts with a touch - was that Caius didn't care about the show as much as Aro did. If the coming slaughter was so much more essential to Caius than an untarnished reputation. "I want to talk to the informant," Caius announced abruptly, and turned his glare on Irina. Irina wasn't paying attention to Caius and Aro's conversation; her face was twisted in agony, her eyes locked on her sisters, lined up to die. It was clear on her face that she knew now her accusation had been totally false. Maeryn smiled, knowing very well that this was the moment where everything could turn around and the battle could start. "Irina," Caius barked, unhappy to have to address her. She looked up, startled and instantly afraid. Caius snapped his fingers. Hesitantly, she moved from the fringes of the Volturi formation to stand in front of Caius again. "So you appear to have been quite mistaken in your allegations," Caius began. Tanya and Kate leaned forward anxiously. "I'm sorry," Irina whispered. "I should have made sure of what I was seeing. But I had no idea___" She gestured helplessly in the foe’s direction. "Dear Caius, could you expect her to have guessed in an instant something so strange and

impossible?" Aro asked. "Any of us would have made the same assumption." Caius flicked his fingers at Aro to silence him. "We all know you made a mistake," he said brusquely. "I meant to speak of your motivations." Irina waited nervously for him to continue, and then repeated, "My motivations?" "Yes, for coming to spy on them in the first place." Irina flinched at the word spy. "You were unhappy with the Cullens, were you not?" She turned her miserable eyes to Carlisle's face. "I was," she admitted. "Because... ?" Caius prompted. "Because the werewolves killed my friend," she whispered. "And the Cullens wouldn't stand aside to let me avenge him." "The shape-shifters," Aro corrected quietly. "So the Cullens sided with the shape-shifters against our own kind - against the friend of a friend, even," Caius summarized. Maeryn felt a small smirk forming on her lips. She heard Edward make a disgusted sound under his breath. Caius was ticking down his list, looking for an accusation that would stick. Irina's shoulders stiffened. "That's how I saw it." Caius waited again and then prompted, "If you'd like to make a formal complaint against the shape-shifters - and the Cullens for supporting their actions - now would be the time." He smiled a tiny cruel smile, waiting for Irina to give him his next excuse. Irina's jaw jerked up, her shoulders squared. "No, I have no complaint against the wolves, or the Cullens. You came here today to destroy an immortal child. No immortal child exists. This was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it. But the Cullens are innocent, and you have no reason to still be here. I'm so sorry," she said to the Cullens, and then she turned her face toward the Volturi witnesses. "There was no crime. There's no valid reason for you to continue here." Caius raised his hand as she spoke, and in it was a strange metal object, carved and ornate. This was a signal. Maeryn smirk grew wider as she watched Irina with much interest. Alec gently wrapped an arm around Maeryn’s waist, holding her back from her enthusiastic behavior. Though he felt the same excitement, years of training taught him to keep his emotions in line. Alec gently kissed the back of her head, calming her down almost immediately.  The response was so fast that we all stared in stunned disbelief while it happened. Before there was time to react, it was over. Three of the Volturi soldiers leaped forward, and Irina was completely obscured by their gray cloaks. In the same instant, a horrible metallic screeching ripped through the clearing. Caius slithered into the center of the gray melee, and the shocking squealing sound exploded into a startling upward shower of sparks and tongues of flame. The soldiers leaped back from the sudden inferno, immediately retaking their places in the guard's perfectly straight line. Caius stood alone beside the blazing remains of Irina, the metal object in his hand still throwing a thick jet of flame into the pyre. With a small clicking sound, the fire shooting from Caius's hand disappeared. A gasp rippled through the mass of witnesses behind the Volturi. The foes were too aghast to make any noise at all. It was one thing to know that death was coming with fierce, unstoppable speed; it was another thing to watch it happen. Maeryn smile grew even further if possible. The foes knew what will happen and how easily their side would soon turn into ashes. The Volturi would once again win, no challenge was great enough. Caius smiled coldly. "Now she has taken full responsibility for her actions." His eyes flashed to the foes front line, touching swiftly on Tanya's and Kate's frozen forms. Caius had never underestimated the ties of a true family. This was the ploy. He had not wanted Irina's complaint; he had wanted her defiance. His excuse to destroy her, to ignite the violence that filled the air like a thick, combustible mist. He had thrown a match. The strained peace of this summit already teetered more precariously than an elephant on a tightrope. Once the fight began, there would be no way to stop it.

It would only escalate until one side was entirely extinct. Their side. Caius knew this. So did Edward.  And so did Maeryn. She felt Alec releasing her waist, yet he still stood closely next her. He crouched down slightly, ready to attack as did Jane. Maeryn followed their movement and also crouched down, her hands infront of her, her energy ready to pulse out of her hands. Ready to take down that pathetic shield Bella created. Thinking her little family had a chance due it. "Stop them!" Edward cried out, jumping to grab Tanya's arm as she lurched forward toward the smiling Caius with a maddened cry of pure rage. She couldn't shake Edward off before Carlisle had his arms locked around her waist. "It's too late to help her," he reasoned urgently as she struggled. "Don't give him what he wants!" Kate was harder to contain. Shrieking wordlessly like Tanya, she broke into the first stride of the attack that would end with everyone's death. Rosalie was closest to her, but before Rosalie could clinch her in a headlock, Kate shocked her so violently that Rosalie crumpled to the ground. Emmett caught Kate's arm and threw her down, then staggered back, his knees giving out. Kate rolled to her feet, and it looked like no one could stop her. Garrett flung himself at her, knocking her to the ground again. He bound his arms around hers, locking his hands around his own wrists. Maeryn saw his body spasm as she shocked him. Maeryn felt quite intrigued by Kate’s gift, and knew she was someone Maeryn had to watch out for. Maeryn would need all her concentration on breaking Bella’s shield, and needed no distraction by being attacked. Garrett’s eyes rolled back in his head, but his hold did not break. "Zafrina," Edward shouted. Kate's eyes went blank and her screams turned to moans. Tanya stopped struggling. "Give me my sight back," Tanya hissed. Desperately, but with all the delicacy I could manage, Bella pulled my shield even tighter against the sparks of her friends, peeling it back carefully from Kate while trying to keep it around Garrett, making it a thin skin between them. And then Garrett was in command of himself again, holding Kate to the snow. "If I let you up, will you knock me down again, Katie?" he whispered. She snarled in response, still thrashing blindly. "Listen to me, Tanya, Kate," Carlisle said in a low but intense whisper. "Vengeance doesn't help her now. Irina wouldn't want you to waste your lives this way. Think about what you're doing. If you attack them, we all die." Tanya's shoulders hunched with grief, and she leaned into Carlisle for support. Kate was finally still. Carlisle and Garrett continued to console the sisters with words too urgent to sound like comfort. However, Edward and everyone else besides Carlisle and Garrett were on their guard again. The heaviest glare came from Caius, staring with enraged disbelief at Kate and Garrett in the snow. Aro was watching the same two, incredulity the strongest emotion on his face. He knew what Kate could do. He had felt her potency through Edward's memories. The Volturi guard no longer stood at disciplined attention - they were crouched forward, waiting to spring the counterstrike the moment the foes attacked. Behind them, forty-three witnesses watched with very different expressions than the ones they'd worn entering the clearing. Confusion had turned to suspicion. The lightning-fast destruction of Irina had shaken them all. Without the immediate attack that Caius had counted on to distract from his rash act, the Volturi witnesses were left questioning exactly what was going on here. Aro glanced back swiftly, his face betraying him with one flash of vexation. His need for an audience had backfired badly. Maeryn heard the two Romanian vampires, Stefan and Vladimir murmur to each other in quiet glee at Aro's discomfort. Maeryn growled slightly. The witnesses where cowards, and once the Volturi had put an end to the Cullens, they would also put an end to the betrayers. Demetri would hunt them until they were extinct, too. Aro was obviously concerned with keeping

his white hat, as the Romanians had put it. Aro touched Caius's shoulder lightly. "Irina has been punished for bearing false witness against this child. Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand?" Caius straightened, and his expression hardened into unreadability. He stared forward, seeing nothing. His face reminded Maeryn, oddly, of a person who'd just learned he'd been demoted. Aro drifted forward, Renata, Felix, and Demetri automatically moving with him. "Just to be thorough," he said, "I'd like to speak with a few of your witnesses. Procedure, you know." He waved a hand dismissively. And when those words had been spoken, Maeryn smirked. Knowing very well that the battle everyone had been longing for, would occur shortly.

[goodbysunball]

Bring it on home

Comparatively easy listening from the set of records showcased this time around, but there's a world of grief settin' your jaw to grind. You deserve a neck massage and a cocktail; lean into these after you put your misery rectangle aside for a spell.

Astute Palate, s/t (Petty Bunco)

Emily Robb, David Nance, Daniel Provenzano, and Richie Charles got together and hammered out this LP during "48 sleepless hours" in Philadelphia. It's definitely a fairly rough documentation, but if you know the players, that's generally what you'd be gettin' into with 'em anyway. Gotta admit that I'm not a huge fan of what I've heard by David Nance - respect his hustle, though - and the same goes for the tracks he leads here; in particular, the studied classic rock caterwaul employed on "Stall Out" basically rolls my eyes for me. I am, however, fond of David Nance the Guitarist and his heroics on "Stall Out," and "A Little Proof" definitely has me more curious about his recent solo work I've skipped. These are pithy grievances, though: the album rules, as a whole, but it's just hard to stomach some of Nance's lyrics when they're side-by-side with bonafide jammers like "Bring It On Home" and "Treadin' Schuylkill." "Bring It On Home," in particular, with its Velvets-inspired chug and Robb's bleary vocals coolly beckoning you to do as the title says, heats to a boil with the blustery, fried guitar interplay. For me it wipes the floor with anything else on the album, and pretty much anything else I'll hear this year, so let's put all my petty complaints aside and declare this the Summer of Astute Palate, OK? Looks like the secret's out - the LP's sold out from the source, but can be found hiding in various distros and shops. Hunt it down, crack a tallboy, and embrace the sweltering heat of our melting planet with Astute Palate.

Maraudeur, Puissance 4 (self-released)

New and best LP yet from Leipzig's Maraudeur, self-released with some of the best packaging/artwork I've seen in a minute. My memory's usually a bit faulty, but I recall the band being a three-piece on their last, still very good LP from Bruit Direct Disques. I'm inclined to think that the group's ranks have swelled to five anyway, since the sound here is a bit more bright and full, lots of different moving parts zipping and moving around, giving the crisp recording some effervescence. Compared to older songs like "Computer Dreams," Maraudeur sounds sharper, capable of backing up any threats rather than coming across as deflated and listless. Even the slower songs on Puissance 4, such as "Slow Dress," thrive on tension, guitar strings set to snap amidst the robotic/hypnotic vocals. The band seems to have located a sweet spot between the simmering minimalism of Household and the technologically damaged vision of Chrome, and "TWYWYS" basically sounds like a collaboration between the two groups. Guitars are used as window dressing, favoring instead synths and showcasing the chops of the rhythm section. "Face/Figure" and my favorite track "C'est Caché" are the best examples of Maraudeur's rhythmic foundation, but nearly every track causes inadvertent head bobbing. While accessible and familiar on the surface, Maraudeur's dry humor, the carefully camouflaged layers of sound, and whatever is going on in "I Am Here" keep boilerplate post-punk comparisons at bay. Puissance 4 is a refreshing, addictive brew from the not-too distant future, and probably a blast to experience live.

Astrid Øster Mortensen, Gro Mig En Blomst (Förlag För Fri Musik)

New Gothenburg talent alert! Mortensen is apparently a newcomer to the scene, and her debut LP fits in nicely amongst the Förlag För Fri Musik discography. Gro Mig En Blomst features lonely and debased late-night solo explorations with guitar, piano and what sounds like an accordion, accented by electronic manipulations and the found sound that accompanies most FFFM records. It's dreary and stark, and can quickly bring the mood down when it's on. For me the most obvious reference point is Grouper's Ruins, in that both are recordings so intimate that it feels like an interruption to move while it's on. But I also get bits of Picastro's Whore Luck ("Hvor Kommer Mørket Fra?" sounds like it was plucked directly from that album), and there are similarities to Chloe Alison Escott's solo work, on the title track and "Piano i" and "Piano ii." Gro Mig En Blomst is a far cry from more traditional singer-songwriter music, dabbling in Stars of the Lid-like drone on "Brud ii" and jumping into the "Is there a record on or...?" genre on "Solen Er Et Lille Hus" and "Brud i." I can't say I go out looking for records this fragile and surface-level bleak anymore, but Mortensen's work is more often beautiful and calming than hopelessly gray. Another keeper from FFFM, sure to be one of the most sought-after records from the label, and for good reason.

Nightshift, Zöe (Trouble In Mind)

Travel back in time with me, if you will, to a time when "indie rock" was a genre label that had some meaning. After getting rid of the bad taste in my mouth and shaking off the embarrassment at who I was when I largely listened to stuff that'd broadly fall under that label, I'll allow that Nightshift is making a strong argument for some of the music released during the comparative naiveté of the late '00s/early '10s. Across Zöe, you get shades of Broadcast, Lower Dens' Twin-Hand Movement, the UV Race ("Spray Paint the Bridge"), Belle & Sebastian and A Sunny Day In Glasgow ("Power Cut" and "Romantic Mud"). The trick to Zöe is that it folds all these reference points in neatly and places it on a sturdy percussive base. I won't argue that every song here is memorable, but they're all enjoyable, and the songs that hit - "Outta Space," the title track, "Infinity Winner" - send chills down my spine every time. Guitars are plucked and scraped for leading beats, accentuating shuffling drums and giving the bass the spotlight. The vocals are dreamy and lyrics direct, and for the duration of Zöe you're relieved of the pessimistic present and allowed to rigidly dance to Nightshift's hesitant groove. They've charmed their way through my cynicism, and Zöe's been on heavy rotation despite my reluctance. Take it for a spin, and fall under Nightshift's spell.

Hugo Randulv, Radio Arktis: Samlade Ljud Från Den Norra Polcirkeln (Förlag För Fri Musik)

First solo LP from Hugo Randulv, an active presence in the Gothenburg scene with his involvement in Enhet För Fri Musik, Skiftande Enheter and Amateur Hour, among others. Though typically a guitarist, on Radio Arktis, he drops the guitar and instead fills both sides with glacial synths and dusty samples. The label's original write-up for this record called it "grand ambient," though to me it sounds and feels much more personal than something that would soundtrack the Olympics. His use of samples, most notably on "Radio Reykjavik," sounds intimately tied with some fleeting memory, the music serving to enhance or exorcise the feeling tied to it all. It reminds me most of the Fun Years' "God Was Like, No" in that both records used the tools common to ambient/drone music but applied a much more personal touch, that certain nameless attribute that keeps drawing a listener back in. Can't put my finger on it, but both records just sound like they had to be made, rather than serving as a genre exercise or one-off exploration. I don't know that Radio Arktis is going to change anyone's life, but it could, and I've been hypnotized by its wordless, sparkling gray tones for weeks. Even though the "solo musician embraces synths" thing is usually pretty tired and pointless, Hugo Randulv's contribution shows why it's an alluring proposition at all.

Sunhiilow, Beyond the Cycle (Ikuisuus)

More solo synth, this time coming from Valerie Magisson and her Moog Mother-32. Magisson's Sunhiilow project veers into new age/ambient with its bite-sized kosmische explorations. There's something about the combination of the short length of these tracks and the sense of movement present within each that allows Beyond the Cycle to transcend the lifeless drivel that's usually tagged "new age" and "synth." It seems intentional that Magisson was trying to capture the mood of each track title in its corresponding music, and she is largely successful, though its unclear if the title provided direction or was applied afterward. The somewhat jarring introduction of "Wilderness Bloom" and the stoned growth of "Circle Motion" are my top picks, but the album works best as a whole and played very loudly, the overall effect immersing the listener into heady zones traversed by the Nightcrawlers. Leave it to Ikuisuus to release an "ethereal ambient music" record that satisfies, and sounds and looks great to boot. Sunhiilow's a lot more tame than most of what Ikuisuus releases, but it's an accessible, recommended starting point to one of the best active labels. HOWDY.

[enithinggoes]

The witch’s teachings, lesson 6: Some planning, some action

Lesson 6- Some planning, some action

The next weeks were full of urgency, I was attempting to gain as much mastery as possible over the benefits of my pact in a short timespan. My lessons with the witch turned mostly to this subject temporarily, I discovered I could see perfectly in the dark, and over much longer distances than ever before. With the right amont of focus, I could even perceive the surface thoughts in people’s minds, but I found that if they became aware of it they could obfuscate intentions with proper concentration, something that Morgana already seemed to have some experience with. She proposed that I try and combine my enhanced vision and mind-reading to read an opponent’s movements, though I was still not nearly fast enough to parry her strikes consistently with my dagger.

On the more direct side of things, if I envisioned myself manipulating an object a few translucent apendages of iridescent coloring, apparently invisible and intangible to others, would manifest and delicately follow my instructions, incredibly precise(I wager I could even sow some injuries as well as with my hands through them) though not very strong, unable to lift more than a few kilograms.

Once I had some control over these abilities we went on to gathering information to take down the duke, “He’s clearly not a complete stranger to magic if he could send a demon after me before, so we should know more about his capabilities before we strike”, explained my master, “so It’d be best to have a plan when we confront him.”

We commandeered another inquisitor wagon, and after defeating the knights on it, the driver was scared enough that even without the watcher’s powers he probably would have told us what he knew, still the insurance about his honesty was useful. Once we were done speaking to him, the witch told me to switch clothes with him, so I’d have a good disguise, and then we let him go, to flee to the nearest town.

While Morgana compared the wagon driver’s description of the Duke to what she had written down on different creatures and their characteristics, I decided it was time I had a talk with Lyssa. “Hi, seems like our next quest will be quite dangerous, are you nervous at all?”

She turned to me with a smirk, “to be frank, cat, not as much as you’d think. I mean, this is what I’ve been training for, right? Stopping the inquisition and taking down the people who think they can just kidnap and kill whoever they find threatening or strange. I’m happy the time seems to have come earlier than I expected.”

I chuckled, “alright, I have something to thank you for, I imagine it’s impossible you didn’t notice these.” I pointed to my changed eyes.

“Hey, if you didn’t want to tell me, felt there was no reason for me to ask,” she answered.

“Well, I don’t know what’s about to happen in the coming days, so I figured I should at least tell you where these come from, and also something about our master…” I explained to her my pact with the watcher, and the story behind master’s black hands and powers.

Lyssa seemed somewhat forlorn, she looked down and said “I see, so, she doesn’t trust me, thinks I’ll go mad for power huh?” Though her lips stayed rigidly straight, I guess she didn’t want to seem as bothered as she was.

I wanted to better explain my master’s thought process, and why she’d chosen to keep this information from Lyssa for the time being. “Look, I think she knows your heart is in the right place, and she trusts you enough to make you a powerful warrior. She might just not trust pacts in the first place, my encounter with the watcher was a complete accident. And she did plan to tell you so you’d be prepared, but she didn’t want you to seek it out.”

“I know!” she half-snapped at me, throwing the stick she was holding to the ground “ I just… I just don’t like her assuming I’d make those choices. Even if she didn’t see it as malice, she’s still thinking I’d make those mistakes and you wouldn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t really refute her complaints at all, so I just tentatively put my arm on her shoulder and brought myself close, saying “I’m sorry.” As softly as I could. Her whole body was tense, like she’d gone into an instinctive defensive state without anything to fight against.

We sat there for a while, not saying anything, before she pat my back lightly. “Thanks, cat, for trusting me with this, you’re a good friend.”

Soon, Morgana came back, she seemed agitated, but at the same time there was an electricity to her, like the euphoria people could experience in moments of great danger, both of these feelings bubbled under the surface of her voice and gestures when she explained: “Alright, here’s what we know, duke Lucius has his inquisitors head out about once a month, they usually bring back 2-4 people, usually women, accused of some form of “witchcraft”, all but one are publically executed, one is taken into the castle to “repent” in the chambers. The duke attends the executions by but he doesn’t go out for anything other than that, he stays in his room during the day, signing treaties and writing laws, and demands to be left alone during the night,” she gave a knowing smirk, “You may already suspect this, but I’m quite certain we’re facing a vampire.”

The witch raised her left hand, putting her fingers up as she enumerated the steps of her plan. “Here’s what we’ll do: you, familiar, can take us in the stolen wagon into the town, keep your hat over your eyes and don’t let anyone get too close lest they notice too much. We’ll head to the castle in the late twilight, early enough that the duke won’t suspect the time of his “meal” but late enough that we may have the advantage of the rising sun on our side, I don’t think it’ll outright kill a powerful vampire, but it might weaken him. We’ll need to stop by some other town to grab some stakes, maybe a torch or two, he’ll be very adapted to darkness.”

Lyssa had clearly listened as intently as I had, though she still had questions, “alright, but what should we know about the vampire’s abilities, what should I watch out for?”

 “I’ve only heard stories of battles against vampires so I am not entirely sure, but I know he’ll have superhuman speed, reflexes and strenght, as well as limited shapeshifting and mind manipulation abilities, though if you both keep your focuses I’m sure it won’t be enough to control you, since I don’t intend to have you fight him directly, it’s too dangerous. I only need you two to distract anyone at the entrance so I may sneak in and confront him” answered Morgana, her expression becoming deadly serious by the final sentence, so I felt a bit too intimidated to argue.

I got up from where I was sitting, raising my hand timidly to ask, “alright, despite the vagueness of this plan, I don’t doubt your ability to defeat the duke, but are you sure this will solve everything? I mean, even if their true goal is just to feed the duke and keep anyone too wise down, doesn’t mean the inquisition will stop if he dies, the ideology used to justify it might live on  with  the people in power left, and we can’t just go around killing every member, they might total at the hundreds!”

The witch clenched her fists and her lips stiffened, as she turned away slightly for a moment before answering, “I can’t solve everything, truth is, the power vaccumm that will follow could have dire consequences. But the thing is, we can’t just let duke Lucius keep his power. Every month we delayed this would be another group of people slaughtered! He may even extend his reach to other communities like…” She clenched her teeth, though she’d stopped speaking I could clearly hear “Like he did with me.” After she composed herself a bit she continued, “the point is, I’m not sure what will happen after I take him down, but it’s gotta be better than this. We’ll figure it out from there, I’m sure people will eventually learn that the man was a parasite and these towns can and should run without him, if we train more witches there’ll be less reason to fear what’s out there and therefore less reason for people to blindly follow the inquisition. We can’t plan everything out beforehand, but we’re not going in blind either. You’ve both shown me that others can and will pick up the cause when given the chance.”

I nodded in agreement, and Lyssa said “let’s do this then, wipe him off the face of the Earth.”

“Thank you”, said Morgana, “and one more thing, familiar. I think you’ve learned enough to be your own witch, even without me from now on, so it’s time you get a name, what do you think of Cato?” she suggested with a proud smile.

I was surprised, but very happy, hearing that had made me realize how much I’d learned over my travels with the witch, and I wouldn’t hesitate to say that it was that moment that inspired me to compile her principal lessons in this text. When I answered her, my voice carried joy I’ve seldom felt in my life, and true appreciation for my teacher, “I’ll wear it proudly”.

[gone4neow]

MIGHTY | ⓅⒸⓎ

c h a p t e r t e n

- park chanyeol x oc

- mulan rewrite [very loosely inspired by the disney version]

- warnings : cursing, dark themes, extreme violence

- work count : 2,970

previous chapter or next chapter

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Eunyeong sat outside of the general's tent with Baekhyun next to her side. The moon was officially high in the sky, accompanied by all of its twinkling friends. The general and his second hand in command had decided to keep the mole hidden in the forest until night arrived. Then, the escorted him back to the general's tent to question him.

"What's taking so long?" Baekhyun whined with a pout apparent on his face. Eunyeong only glanced at him in response. She was feeling antsy herself after the day's events. It had been half an hour and there was no sign of any activity in the tent.

"Does your head feel okay?" The woman asked after a few seconds of silence passed.

Baekhyun gave a small sigh as he lifted his hand up to his head. "It doesn't hurt as much as it did earlier."

"Good," the woman hummed. "I'll make sure it never happens again."

Just as she finished speaking, the tent entrance flew open. The general stepped out in a rush, only pausing his movements when he saw the pair of soldiers sitting outside of his tent. His eyes narrowed in annoyance when he meet Eunyeong's eyes.

"He won't speak to us," the man explained.

"Of course not," the woman huffed in exhaustion as she picked at the grass beneath her. "The other two we brought back with us didn't say anything, either. These people are impressively silent."

The general stood with his hands resting on his hips. He looked off into the distance for a few moments, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration. Baekhyun complained about wanting to sleep as they sat there unsure of what to do next.

"Maybe you should just go sleep. I doubt anything exciting will happen tonight," the woman told the man. "Besides, you should get rest after what happened to you today anyways."

Baekhyun didn't smack the woman's hand away as she reach up and pushed his hair away from the scratch on his forehead. A deep frown rest on her face as she stared at the small injury.

"Goodnight," the general suddenly snapped. Both of the soldiers turned to look at the man who was staring down at them with a scowl.

"Uh," Baekhyun gave a nervous laugh. "Goodnight?"

"Go," the general instructed the man. Eunyeong watched as the tall man lifted his hand and pointed in the direction of the soldiers' tents. Baekhyun scrambled to his feet and bowed respectfully before he trotted off to sleep for the night. Eunyeong went to follow after him, but was stopped by a large hand wrapping around her forearm. She stopped and looked up, meeting the general's dark eyes as she did so.

"Not you," he told her. The woman's face contoured into an expression of confusion. The man dropped his hold on her arm before he ducked back into the tent. Eunyeong hesitated before she entered behind him.

Inside sat Kyungsoo and the mole. Kyungsoo was staring at the man with a glare so hateful that Eunyeong felt afraid to even breath in the same air as him. How the mole hadn't spoken up about anything yet was a mystery to her. One look from the intimidating man would have her spilling her entire catalog of secrets within seconds.

The mole turned to look when the general and soldier entered the tent. His eyes lit up at the sight of Eunyeong, before they quickly narrowed with anger. This didn't go undetected by Chanyeol.

"What's the interest with my soldier?" He asked bluntly. Eunyeong blinked in surprise. Kyungsoo looked over at her, his eyes scanning her as if trying to see what the mole saw.

"There's a rumor circling through our group about a tiny soldier who stole away our men," the man began. "And now we have reason to believe the same man took the general from us when we finally got our hands on him."

"Ah, you've made quite the name for yourself - haven't you?" Chanyeol asked Eunyeong as he poured himself a glass of wine. She stood rigidly next to the entrance of the tent with her hands laced together. Her thumbs chased once another nervously.

"I guess my first message made it back to everyone," Eunyeong awkwardly said with a small laugh. The general looked up at the woman with disbelief.

"Of course it did, you son of a bitch," the mole hissed. "Now those men will never be able to return to their families after what you did to them."

"And what about your men?" Eunyeong immediately bit back, her hands separating and curling into fists as she spoke. "Look at our men! Look at the graves we've had to dig because of you bastards!"

"Hey," the general called out softly to the woman. She found his eyes soon after and felt her tense muscles gradually relax. The man motioned for her to join him on the floor of the tent and so she did. When she was seated, he passed his glass of wine to her. Quickly, she emptied the entirety of the glass down her throat.

"Where is your group located?" Kyungsoo asked the mole. The man looked over at him with an expression of distaste.

"I told you I wasn't going to say anything," he answered with a bitterness to his voice.

"What if we reward you?" Kyungsoo suggested.

"No," the man said instantly. "I won't betray my people."

"Do you think your people really care about you?" Chanyeol asked the man.

"Of course they do. When they find out my identity has been given up then they'll come back to finish you all off," the man remarked with pride. The general snickered at this.

"You're delusional," he told the man. "You have no value to them now. You're as good to them as a broken blade."

"Shut up!" The man exclaimed angrily.

"In fact, they'll probably want to kill you more than any of us after you've failed your job," Chanyeol continued.

"I said shut up!"

"We can help you," Kyungsoo interjected. "If you give us the information we need then we can protect you from dying. We can help you get back to your family. Wouldn't that be nice?"

The man was silent now. His nostrils still flared with anger, but it was obvious that the men' s words was getting to him.

"You know," Eunyeong started. "We don't judge you for doing what you've done - you have to do what you have to do to survive."

The man looked over at the soldier right away. Eunyeong felt her heart quicken at the gaze in his eyes. A grin slowly formed on his face.

"When my people come for me, I'll show them to you directly. And while they rip you apart limb from limb, I'll watch and I'll laugh. And when I make it back home I'll tell everyone about how I helped burn a tiny little bastard who couldn't stay out of everyone's business," the man told the woman.

Eunyeong felt her stomach twist. For a moment she felt as if she were going to throw up from the visuals that ran through her mind, but she had to remind herself that the man was trying to get under her skin. Obviously he recognized her as the weakest in the room, which made her an easy target. If she wanted to win this she couldn't allow him to get under her skin so easily.

"Go ahead and fantasize about my death, but just remember that it's me with the blood of your men on my hands already. I'm not afraid of getting my hands a little more dirty if it means defeating corruption," the woman replied gravely. 

The man began to shake with rage at her words. Then, he began to throw his body wildly while shouting loudly. Within just a few seconds, Kyungsoo sat on top of the man and delivered two fatal blows that sent the man into unconsciousness. Finally, he was completely silent.

"Take him to the others," Chanyeol commanded the man. Kyungsoo obeyed without complaint. Eunyeong watched as he stood up and began dragging the man out of the tent.

"You have a way with words," the general noted quietly as he poured himself some more wine.

"I got a bit carried away," Eunyeong admitted, suddenly embarrassed for speaking the way she had. Her cheeks began to feel warm and she wasn't sure if it was due to her embarrassment or the wine she had consumed minutes ago.

"I was impressed," the general confessed. When the woman looked up at him, she saw a small smirk on his face. This prompted a smile to stretch across her face.

"Is there a reason you wanted me to stay behind tonight?" The woman wondered aloud after a few seconds passed.

The general glanced over at the woman, the smirk on his face long gone. His eyes scanned her face as if trying to understand her curiosity. "I figured the chances that he would speak would be better if you were here. Those who have emotionally wounded us are always the ones to get under our skin the easiest."

"Ah," the woman hummed. "That's clever. I'll have to remember that."

"Do you plan to be in this situation often?"

"You never know what tomorrow will bring."

That was the truth. When the next day arrived, the general announced that it was time to get a move on again. While the other soldiers packed up the camp and prepared to depart, Kyungsoo and Eunyeong snuck away into the forest with their newest prisoner. They planned to question the man, but knew it would be difficult to get any answers out of him.

"Are you guys serious?" The man scoffed as Kyungsoo pushed him to the ground. The sound of his knees hitting the fallen leaves on the ground emitted a crunching sound. Eunyeong realized only in that moment that summer was beginning to fade away.

"You think a guy with an expression like that on his face is ever anything but serious?" Eunyeong asked the man as she pointed over at Kyungsoo. She received a glare from both of the men in return.

"I'm not telling you bastards anything," the man spat angrily. Eunyeong and Kyungsoo shared a look of annoyance.

"We'll see," Kyungsoo told the man in a voice so calm that it was almost unsettling. His words made a sinister grin break out across the man's face.

"What are you going to do, kill me?" The man taunted. "Then you really won't get any information."

"Don't think of yourself so highly. We're going to end this war with or without your information. It's up to you whether you want to die now rather than later," Kyungsoo responded to the man.

Eunyeong watched the man closely as he contemplated his options. It was interesting to see someone so deranged from reality try to cope with a stressful situation. There was no doubt that he was struggling to keep up his act. When his eyes found hers watching him closely, his fake smile began to fall. The way his eyes instantly grew darker was a dead giveaway of his feelings towards the woman.

"Who's going to kill me?" He asked. "Do you think shorty's got it in him? Because I don't."

"Is that so?" Eunyeong asked in amusement.

"Yeah, that pretty little general would be a better option. Where is he anyways? Does he always let others do his dirty work for him?"

Eunyeong eyed the arrow that was still stuck through the man's hand and stopped herself from releasing a laugh. "Isn't your hand evidence enough that he's more than capable of doing it himself?"

"You always have something to say," the man snapped. "I can't wait till I'm free again. I'll make sure to strangle you myself. I've daydreamed about watching the life slip out of your eyes for the last two days!"

"Enough," Kyungsoo grunted as he kicked the man backwards. The man released a sharp breath of air as his back collided with the ground. Eunyeong watched as her senior stepped over the man and pressed his foot to the mole's throat.

"If you don't give us information in the next minute, I'll make sure you won't live to share another word with anyone," Kyungsoo threatened the man. Eunyeong felt goosebumps form on her skin.

In response, the man began to laugh - though the sound was more comparable to a wheeze than anything else. The woman thought he was completely insane as she watched his chest shake.

"You want information?" The man breathed out. "I'll only speak to the short one from now on."

"What?" Eunyeong asked in surprise as she met Kyungsoo's eyes. He removed his foot from the man's throat and walked over to the woman.

"Let's try it. You talk to him and see if he speaks. If he doesn't, try to scare him," the man told her in a low voice as he turned to watch the man on the ground breath harshly. The woman hesitantly nodded her head in agreement.

She walked over and looked down at the man. He stared up at her with wild eyes. If she looked close enough, she thought maybe she could see fear swimming in them. It was this small observation that made her frown. It was true, this man was this enemy, but she had never paid much mind to the fact that he was still very much human.

"I don't want to hurt you," she confessed to the man in a gentle voice as she crouched down next to him. "If you work with us then it'll be easier for you. If you're afraid of the other guys, I can promise my protection to you."

The man rolled eyes eyes at her words. "I don't want to be on your side. I'm fighting for my cause."

"Right... and that's clearly working out for you," she remarked.

"When we get rid of you then things will work out," the man said. The woman blinked with surprise at the way it sounded as if the man were convinced his words were true. He truly believed that she was the sole reason for the enemies' loss so far?

"You think too highly of me," she told the man. "I was simply in the wrong place at the right time."

"You'll be in the right place soon enough. Hell was made for bastards of your kind," the man hissed. It was Eunyeong's turn to roll her eyes.

"You make it hard to be polite," she commented with a sigh.

"Then don't be," the man commanded. "Show your true colors, you demon. I've already heard the stories. I know what you're like."

Eunyeong glanced up at Kyungsoo, who was watching the pair with intense eyes. Slowly she lifted her hand and let it hover over her dagger. Her eyes were silently asking Kyungsoo for permission to take it up a notch. When he realized, he gave her an affirmative nod.

"You really want to take it there?" The woman asked in that dark voice of hers. The shift in tone instantly got the man's attention.

"I'm beginning to think you don't have it in you. You a bluff. A fraud," the man pressed on. Eunyeong wrapped her hand around the handle of her dagger before swiftly removing it from its place. She brought it to the man's throat in such speed that it caught the man off guard. His eyes grew wide and he began to squirm.

"You heard Kyungsoo earlier," she cooed darkly. "If you don't want to bleed out on this forest floor on this beautiful morning, then I suggest you start speaking."

The three returned back to camp a few minutes later. The general caught them before they could officially step out of the forest. He scanned them for any signs of progress and found nothing out of the ordinary until his eyes landed on the prisoner's throat. There was a straight, bloody line that wasn't deep enough to threaten the man's life yet it was enough to alarm any onlookers.

"We got some information," Kyungsoo announced. The general nodded at the news before he turned his torso slightly and gave a sharp whistle. Right away, two soldiers came jogging up to the small crowd. Eunyeong listened as the general instructed the men to take the mole and dispose of him.

While the man spoke, she looked off towards camp at all the busy soldiers. She spotted Bakehyun talking to some of his friends. When he caught sight of her, a wide grin broke out on his face and he waved enthusiastically. Eunyeong stopped listening to the general and smiled while she gave a small, subtle wave in her friend's direction.

The sound of someone clearing their throat garnered the woman's attention. She looked over at the general, who was looking over his shoulder at Baekhyun. When he turned back to look at her, he had a disapproving look on his face.

"Sorry, sir," she quickly apologized while bowing over.

"If you're so eager to join him then perhaps you should excuse yourself," the man told her with a slight bitterness in his voice.

"No," she rushed out. "I would much rather go over the new information than to help pack up."

Kyungsoo couldn't help but snicker at the soldier's honesty. She felt her face flush at the way the general scowled at both her and his second hand in command.

"Your honesty is admirable," Kyungsoo commented, ignoring the way Chanyeol looked at him as he spoke. The woman smiled at his words. It was rare for Kyungsoo to be in such a light mood.

"Right," Chanyeol sighed with a roll of his eyes. "Let's go."

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a / n : sorry again for the late post. not a whole lot of chanyeol in this chapter, but i really wanted to kind of explore the relation between kyungsoo and eunyeong. i think their personalities will really help both of them grow, even more so than any of the other relationships in this story. it’s important to have platonic relationships like that in life guys! anyways, hope everyone enjoys the new chapter. xx

[air-bison-yip-yip]

@ritareigns suggested the following prompt: I hope this isn’t too boring but Edo teaching Ele how to slow dance - she’s never slow danced with anyone and Edo teaches her in the kitchen (or wherever u want I just thought kitchen would be cute cuz they bonded in Edo’s kitchen in the sleepover) I thought it’d be an intimate/cute moment for them :)

thanks for this prompt! it was so much fun and thank you to my lovely @nnegan13 for her words of encouragement + proofreading (also on ao3)

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“You’re hopeless,” Filo announced dropping Ele’s hands and stepping away from her.

“Filooo,” Eleonora whined. “Help me! You promised.” Ele followed Filo out of the kitchen.

“No, Ele, you have no talent. I thought I could teach you, but you need professional help.” Filo told her. Filo walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with a chilled white wine of some sort.

“I do not!” Ele stomped her foot in denial.

“You do, spider. You need to learn to follow. I swear,” Filo told her truthfully. “You just fight for dominance the whole time. You have to trust your partner.”

Ele stood looking at Filo with narrowed eyes. “I trust you fine,” Ele ground out. Filo scoffed immediately at Ele.

“I’m out, Ele,” Filo told her taking his wine into the room and shutting the door. Eleonora was left standing in the kitchen trying hard not to feel exceptionally annoyed at her situation.

Why did she even need to know how to slow dance ‘properly’? She was truly going to kill Silvia for having a theme that required such hardship. Eleonora knew that she didn’t have to dance. She could’ve sat it out, but then Silvia had looked at her with her big puppy eyes and talked about her birthday wish to have a formal dance with proper slow dancing and Eleonora was loathed to deny her anything.

Except apparently, she’s unfucking teachable, according to Filo. It’s not that Eleonora didn’t know how to dance. Of course, she did. But, uh, actual slow dancing rather than swaying just wasn’t her strong suit. She felt stiff and uncomfortable, and she didn’t understand why she needed to learn a box step anyways.

She had other skills. Other goddamn relevant skills to everyday life. Eleonora huffed into her room and sat on her bed, thinking of her options.

It wouldn’t actually matter if she couldn’t dance, but Eleonora didn’t like failing at things. And now she felt like a failure.

Ele groaned aloud and flopped back on her bed.

Nope, not happening. She was not going to pity her apparent lack of coordination. She reached out for her phone noticed it was well past midnight but decided she didn’t care. The party was tomorrow, well, today technically and she was going to learn how to slow dance.

She pulled up her favorites and pressed three holding the phone up to her ear, still lying on her bed.

“Ele?” Edo’s voice was muffled and scratchy, and she knew she had woken him up. She winced, even though he couldn’t see her.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t think this through,” Ele told him, her voice a low whisper in return.

“Are you okay?” He asked a bit more urgency in his voice.

“I am absolutely fine. This is going to seem ridiculous now that I have woken you up.” Ele sighed. She heard movement through the phone and Edoardo cleared his throat.

“What’s going on?” He inquired.

“I need your help,” Ele told him hesitantly.

“Okay, of course. With what?”

“Well…” Ele started before rolling her eyes at herself. This is ridiculous.

“Ele?” He asked.

“Slow dancing.” Eleonora finally admitted. The phrase came out petulant, and she could hear the amusement lacing Edoardo’s tone in his reply.

“You need me to help you slow dance?” Edo asked. Eleonora decided she might just hurt everyone involved. She hated feeling dumb, she hated giving up control, and she felt stupid for making this phone call.

“Can you help me or not?” She ground out.

“Well, you’re in luck. I attended many formal dance lessons because of my nonna.”

“Really?” Ele asked and felt relief for the first time that day.

“Yes.”

“Great. Come over.” Eleonora demanded. She heard Edoardo chuckle on the other end of the phone, but she could tell he was getting out of bed.

“The lengths I go to for you, Eleonora Francesca Sava,” He teased her.

Ele laughed. “I’ll see you soon.” And hung up her phone. She glanced down at her pajamas, short shorts that barely peeked out over the oversized long sleeved shirt. Ele decided she didn’t want to change. She was comfortable, and it’s not like within the last month of dating Edoardo hadn’t seen her in various types of clothes...and states of undress.

She did go to the bathroom and brush her teeth, just for good measure, though. She was padding around in the living room when Filo re-emerged from his room, the wine glass from earlier empty.

“Why are you just lurking in our living room, Ele?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not lurking. I’m standing. You know, casually. In our living room. Like a normal day.” Eleonora winced at the awkwardness, and she knew that Filo was about to pounce for information.

Luckily, or perhaps, regretfully, their apartment bell buzzed before he could say anything.

“Well, well, well, who do we have calling at this hour?” He asked. Filo turned to the door, but Eleonora was quicker. She buzzed the door open and turned to face Filo, her back against the door.

“Go to bed, Filo!” She scolded. Filo just wagged his finger at her and Eleonora knew this situation was going to get exceedingly more embarrassing before it got better. There was a knock at the door, and Eleonora gave Filo a cold look. Filo, for his part, held up his hands as if surrendering, but the smirk was firmly in place.

Ele turned around and opened the door to see a sleep mussed Edoardo (one of her absolute favorite looks), and she shuffled back, pushing Filo with her butt to get out of the way to let Edo in.

Edo gave Ele a soft smile before turning to look at Filo with wide eyes at the pure Cheshire grin on Filo’s face.

“What can we do for you, Edoardo?” Filo purred. Eleonora wanted this to end immediately.

“Okay, Filo, out. Go to bed. Get your nightly wine bottle and go to your room.”

“Now, Ele, you are being so rude in front of our guest,” Filo replied.

“Filo.” She reprimanded. Filo stood waiting in the hallway, refusing to leave without having more information.

“You are so annoying. He’s teaching me to slow dance! Okay?!?” Ele kept from shouting, but just barely.

Filo began laughing, and Eleonora wondered how childish it would be to elbow him in the ribs. Edoardo stayed silent, but she felt his hand clasped hers, and his thumb ran soothing circles near her thumb. Ele leaned into his warmth.

“She’s fucking awful!” Filo told Edo, ignoring Eleonora completely.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad--” Edo started, but Filo talked over him.

“She’s bad. She can’t relax, and she steps on all your toes. I gave up like an hour ago.” Edoardo tried very hard not to smile, but Eleonora could see the twitch of his lips. She squeezed his hand once in complaint.

“Well we will give it a go and see what we can do,” Edo told him diplomatically.

Filo looked between both of them before deciding that the situation no longer amused him. He turned on his heel and walked back to his room, shouting “good luck,” before shutting his door. Eleonora slumped back against the wall of the hallway.

Edoardo shifted, his body caging her in.

“Hi,” he whispered, leaning down.

“Hi,” Eleonora told him before closing the distance and kissing him firmly. Her kiss was messy and demanding, and she tried to get out some of her earlier frustration out now. Her teeth pulled on Edoardo’s lower lip, and she felt him shiver.

See? She thought to herself. She’s great at many other useful everyday skills.

Edoardo pulled away, panting slightly. “We should dance, maybe?” He asked although she got the impression that he would consider the night productive if she hauled him into her bedroom and did other things besides dancing.

“Yes,” She grumbled. She grabbed Edoardo’s hand and led him to the kitchen, where she had her speaker. She played a mid-tempo classical piece and stood rigidly in the kitchen. Edoardo came to stand in front of her.

“Relax,” Edoardo told her, his hands coming to grab her waist. “This should be fun.” Ele’s pout grew, and Edoardo chastely kissed it away.

“Close your eyes, Ele,” Edo whispered in her ear. He pulled her waist closer to him. One hand gently wrapped around her hip while the other held her hand up. At the very least, she could stand like she knew how to slow dance. “All I need you to do is trust me,” Edo said.

Eleonora’s eyes snapped open at his tone. The teasing affection was still there, but a current of vulnerability ran through his statement. She swallowed, remembering their fight before their reunion that he was leaving her because she didn’t trust him.

She hadn’t then. She did now. But looking at Edoardo now somewhat off-kilter, standing in her kitchen past one in the morning, hair wild, and looking timid at his statement, she knew that maybe Edoardo didn’t totally know that she trusted him with everything. Her body, her heart, her soul.

She nodded gently and leaned into his body. “I trust you completely, Edo.” Edo smiled slightly, his eyes twinkled in the dim light of the kitchen, the soft music playing felt romantic and happy, and Eleonora thought that this might be one of her happiest moments.

It was a mundane one. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture. It wasn’t anything particularly special. Perhaps, though, this is what made Ele appreciate it so much more. She knew, without a single doubt, that Edoardo would come over any time she asked it of him if he was able. That he would go to extreme lengths for her, with or without her asking. He was solid and warm beneath her fingers, and she felt cherished, always, but especially now.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. It wasn’t a proper slow dance form, at least she didn’t think so, but just this moment she didn’t care. She just wanted to be in Edoardo’s arms.

He kissed the top of her head and took a small step backwards. Before Ele could move her head, look down at her feet, ask a question, Edo gave her instructions.

“All you have to do is follow me.” She nodded against his shoulder and took a small step forward, mirroring his own actions. He continued this. He would take a step, and Eleonora followed. They continued for a few songs. She felt more comfortable. Edoardo would murmur whispers of encouragement. When the fourth song finally ended, Ele grasped Edoardo’s head in her hands, cradling his face. She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and leaned back to look at him.

Her Edo.

One day she would make sure that Edoardo knew with absolute certainty that she would follow him anywhere, to any place, for anything without a single hesitation.

But for now, she was content with wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hug.

“Let’s go to bed.” She told him, pulling away and taking his hand, leading him to her room, watching him follow immediately and feeling joy at the realization that, he too, might just follow her anywhere.

[dominodebt]

strange bedfellows

"Be with me when I lie down; you promised me this in an earlier life." –Mirabai

 (Beds are not inherently sexual. There is nothing torrid or amorous about a bed. This is what Caleb is telling himself, anyway, when he agrees to share his with Jester.)

critical role | wc: 6,802

One hand scrabbles for his materials pouch on his bedside table, the other patting around desperately for his spellbook while his anxiety goes off the rails because someone tripped his Alarm spell someone tripped his Alarm spell someone tripped his—

A knock on his door. Caleb freezes in the act of reaching, hanging half off the bed, legs cocooned hopelessly in his sheets.

Someone tripped his Alarm spell and is now, apparently, informing him of this fact.

In hindsight, the spell is a habit—a ritual to soothe his paranoia. He doesn't need to cast it. The crew has proven themselves to be loyal and reliable, and the Nein wouldn't go poking around in his things. They're all past that point of reflexive mistrust.

Caleb did not cast his Alarm spell because he is suspicious of his friends, or doubts their honesty. He cast his Alarm spell because somewhere, out in the world, Trent Ikithon is looking for him, and some nights, one thin silver wire is the only way to pacify his anxious mind.

Nott is the only person he'd thought to name when designating who the spell would not affect—his small companion has a habit of coming and going as she pleases, and he has no desire to hear a ringing in his head all night each time she decides to go investigate something.

So since it is not Nott, and it is not Trent Ikithon, it must be another member of the Nein. Caleb sighs, sitting up in bed, willing the adrenaline to drain from his body.

Another knock. Caleb curses lowly in Zemnian.

"Come in," he calls through his fingers, rubbing his face with his hands.

It's Jester. Because of course it is.

She appears in his doorway slowly, listening to the ancient wood creak as she pushes the door aside. He watches her at the edge of his vision, struck—as he always is when he sees her alone—by how small she is. The faint light from the hallway she stands in silhouettes her as she peers into his room, eyes glittering like rock crystal in the low light of his room.

"Are you awake?" she whispers in that too-loud way of hers.

Caleb exhales deeply through his nose.

"Yes, Jester, I am," he replies lowly. "What are you doing?"

She slips inside, apparently declining to answer his question, and quietly shuts the door behind her. Her pink nightgown swishes at her ankles as she spins back around, quickly crossing the room to his bed, chattering lowly about something that Caleb honestly isn't sparing a single thought towards because why is she coming towards his bed—?

One blue hand appears his blankets, and Caleb realizes her intentions—

"Jester." Caleb's whole body has snapped taut like a sprung mousetrap. He sits rigidly in his bed, hands fisted below the sheets as he watches her at the edge of his vision.

Tension hangs for a moment as they stare at each other.

"Are you…?" Jester trails off, stilling her movements as if she'd just caught a glimpse of his uneasy stiffness. "Oh. Oh. Sorry. Does this make you uncomfortable? I should have asked."

Caleb opens his mouth to say yes, this does make him uncomfortable, thank you for noticing, and would she please take herself and that unnecessarily cute pink nightgown out of his room, now.

He forces a hard swallow down a throat that hadn't been quite so dry a moment ago.

He likes Jester. That isn't exactly a groundbreaking or controversial statement, because everyone likes Jester, but it's the truth. He likes Jester quite a bit, and he is all too aware of how absolutely fucked her last few days have been—from the small annoyance of putting up with Fjord's liaisons with Avantika to the true horror of being left alone in a chamber to face a godsforsaken dragon all on her own.

She stares at him, waiting—cutting such an impossibly small figure as she's bathed in the soft glow of his dancing lights that he feels his heart constrict. Such a large, loud spirit tucked neatly into someone so slight. She clearly is seeking something from him, and even though he has no idea what it is, he has already surrendered it to her.

Swallowing hard and listening to his anxiety wail like a siren's song in his head, Caleb manages a rough pass at an affirmative nod.

"Just…above the covers, ja?"

Her answering smile shames daybreak.

"Of course," she agrees, eagerly clambering aboard. He watches as she settles herself comfortably at the edge of his bed—legs crossed daintily beneath her as the blush silk of her nightgown pools across his blankets. She's within arm's reach—his bed isn't large enough to keep her out of it—but she's as far away as she can mange, and true to her word, she's seated primly above the various layers of sheets and blankets.

Her tail swishes idly above her shoulder as her gaze passes over his quarters.

"Where's Nott?" Jester asks, head tipped curiously as her darkvision fails to unveil a little goblin girl anywhere in the room.

Caleb shrugs—action still stiff with nerves. He hasn't quite recovered from her presence—the shrill chime of his Alarm spell is still ringing faintly in his memory. "She wanders, occasionally."

Jester looks back to him, nose wrinkling in telltale confusion.

"What?" she asks. "Like, around the ship?"

"Wherever she wishes," Caleb answers. He closes his book and lets it rest in his lap, feeling the most absurd need to put on more layers of clothing. His threadbare shirt is stained and worn and rumpled, but it isn't indecent. And besides, these are his quarters. He has nothing to be embarrassed about.

He glances back, sensing Jester's dissatisfaction with his answer. "I am not her keeper."

She nods, seemingly pacified, and Caleb waits for her to explain her presence—nothing is overtly wrong the way it usually is with Jester's problems. She isn't bleeding, or yelling, or babbling about how she had absolutely nothing to do with whatever catastrophe the group was about to see. She just sits there, idly glancing around his room.

Caleb shifts, feeling senselessly exposed.

"Jester…" he begins, lifting an eyebrow, drawing her earnest gaze. "It is quite late. Was there something you needed, or…?"

Some of the spark leaves her eye, and she looks away, visibly slumping at his pointed question. Caleb kicks himself, cursing his unwieldy tongue, scrambling for something else to say—

"I don't want the Gentleman to be my dad," she confesses quietly.

Caleb tips his head in acknowledgement. Ah. "I believe that is a reasonable thing not to want," he replies diplomatically.

Her blue brow puckers with a frown as she continues. "I mean…what are the chances, right? I spend my whole life looking for my dad and like—this first guy we come across is just him?" She looks to Caleb, expression distinctly discontented. "That's a little unbelievable, isn't it?"

Caleb stares back at her for a moment, listening to the way her lilting accent weaves through the air, turning her complaints into music. He declines to inform her that everything she does—absolutely every action he has seen her partake in—leans at least a little on the side of unbelievable.

She's a whirlwind, their cleric. A riot of color and sound.

Still, he offers his best response.

"Your mother could not confirm his identity for certain, and the Gentleman denied he had seen her," he tells her. "So long as those loose ends remain, there is no way to know, and no reason to worry."

She nods, still looking troubled.

"It makes sense though," she murmurs. Caleb is drawn to her hands. Small blue fists flecked with her colorful paints—kaleidoscope fingers that tug and twist at his blankets. "Him being my dad."

Caleb arches an eyebrow. "I don't quite see the resemblance," he replies, thinking of the dangerously calm and charismatic crime lord. He had been a cold man, in Caleb's own opinion—and clever enough to give even a student of Archmage Ikithon a run for his money. "There are many water genasi in the world, Jester."

Jester just sighs—a soft, small sound. Her shoulders sag, and Caleb frowns at the sight.

"Who would you rather your father be?" he asks. He sits forward, elbows on his knees, closer into her space, trying to catch her eyes. "Forget the Gentleman—surely you've imagined what your father might be like before him."

Jester seems to consider it for a moment—he watches her features scrunch up in that thoughtful way of hers—before her expression smooths back out.

"I never really cared who my dad was," she admits with a shrug. "I just wanted him to come back to the Chateau. I just wanted Mama to be happy."

Caleb quirks an eyebrow. "So…the fact that the Gentleman is a notorious, dangerous crime boss isn't what makes you wish he wasn't your father?"

Jester shakes her head, blinking at him like this should be obvious.

"No," she tells him. "I don't care who he is, or what he does. I only ever wanted him to be with my mama."

The simplicity of her desire—such a quiet, wholesome yearning—twinges at something deep inside Caleb. He clears his throat, shifting beneath the sheets of his bed.

"Ah," he murmurs, completely at a loss. He knew Jester loved her mother but…gods. "That's…that's incredibly noble of you, Jester."

The tiefling shrugs, ducking his gaze again, smoothing her colorful fingers across her rumpled nightgown.

"I don't know about that," she murmurs, bashful suddenly—like his simple compliment had flustered her more than her brazen move to his bed.

Something about her reaction—her sudden shyness of being called out for her selflessness, like she doesn't know what to do with the words, has never been given such praise—rouses Caleb's suspicion as he watches her. He has seen Jester take kind remarks about her clothes and her hair and her eyes all in stride—hardly ever blushing at a single one. But now he points out the very obvious, and she can't look him in the eye?

He frowns. Perhaps noble wasn't quite the word he was searching for.

"You don't value yourself."

Silence follows the statement, and for a moment, Caleb blinks, feeling the urge to search the room for the source before he realizes—with a dull kind of astonishment—that it was him.

Jester's eyes seem to glow in the dark—like a pair of cursed amethysts.

"What?" she asks, frowning hard.

Caleb considers walking his words back—he really, truly hadn't meant to say that—but his resolve hardens, and he gazes back at her.

"Jester you…" Caleb's tongue—cast with silver during his time under Ikithon—tarnishes as he struggles to articulate his point. "You're…you are never your first priority. Ever."

Jester blinks at the low intensity of his tone. He isn't yelling—Caleb actually can't recall the last time he'd raised his voice out of fury, his is a much softer, darker anger—but he watches as her hand rises to gingerly rest over her heart in an act of delicate surprise that reminds him so forcefully of her mother he thinks he might have a stroke.

"I am sometimes," she argues softly. "I've healed myself first, even when other people were hurt."

Caleb frowns, his memory pinpointing the exact moment she is referring to.

"Only after we convinced you to," he reminds her.

She rolls her eyes, looking away stubbornly. The most self-sacrificing person Caleb knows, and she can't stand to hear it about herself.

"Tell me something you want," he insists. "Not something you want for someone else. Something selfish. Something that only you benefit from."

Jester's soft, round features scrunch up in concentration as she considers Caleb's request.

"I…I don't know," she manages, shrugging in that charmingly inelegant way of hers. She peers at him through mussed indigo hair. "I want pastries, I guess?"

Caleb sighs.

"I was thinking something a bit…grader, Jester," he explains. He casts his mind around before it clicks, just as the boat rocks again, like the water is reminding him. "Fjord, for example. What we've been doing these past weeks—all this time at sea—this is all for him. This is his selfish request." He holds her gaze, imploring her to understand. "And that's fine, because we're here for him. Because we want to support him, ja?"

She nods a little unsteadily. Caleb pushes on.

"And soon, when we get back to land, it will be someone else's turn to be selfish, and we will go—I don't know—to Beau's family and—and bully her father for treating her the way he did, or to Yasha's homelands and aid her in putting whatever it is that haunts her to rest." He holds her gaze, willing her to understand. "Verstehst du?"

"Well, I want to spread the word of the Traveler, then." Her tone is somewhat smart, like she's proving she can beat him at his own game. Caleb levels a dubious look at her.

"That doesn't count, Jester. You're a cleric." He gestures somewhat uselessly with his hands, trying to explain. "Doing something you are duty-bound to do isn't a selfish action."

"But making the Traveler happy makes me happy," she tells him crossly.

"It's still inherently sacrificial," Caleb insists, choosing to dissect her attitude towards her favored god another day. When he has better control over his rogue tongue. "You're still serving him. It's an unbalance of power. It isn't strictly for you." He frowns

Jester huffs, the sound edged in frustration, and they stare at each other in the dim room, unsmiling.

"Well, maybe I don't want anything, then!" Jester's accent always harshens when she's upset, and Caleb listens to it ring out in his quarters. He just gazes back at her, declining to tell her what Ikithon always told him—swallows the words of his teacher's first lesson:

Everyone wants something.

Everyone—even little blue tieflings with sweet smiles.

"You're an exceptional liar," Caleb murmurs to her.

At the edge of his vision, Jester goes still.

For a moment, Caleb fears he's gone too far, and opens his mouth to apologize—

"I'm not nearly as good as you," she replies, in that deceitfully demur way of hers.

Silence fills the room—a natural reaction to the awkward exchange, but soon it grows stifling and uncomfortable. Jester hugs her arms to her chest, looking the other way, while Caleb's stare bores a hole into the cover of his spellbook where it lies on the floor beside his bag.

"May I ask you a question?" he ventures, what feels like an eternity later, trying to break the odd tension that's settled over the room.

"Of course," she agrees easily. She plops her chin in her hand, raising her eyebrows inquisitively as she stares back at him, seemingly just as eager to dispel the strange stiffness between them.

Caleb hesitates. For months he's spent nearly every waking moment shoulder-to-shoulder with the members of their little ragtag band, and while he has learned a great deal about his found family—and has systematically stored information pertaining to their likes and dislikes away for future use—Jester's preferences elude him.

She can be difficult to read, even for him—there's layers to their cleric, he's come to realize. What he hasn't realized quite yet is what layers are really her, and what layers are merely for show.

Jester is a whole play in and of herself, slipping effortlessly between roles. She's an actress, of sorts, but all her masks are so similar it took Caleb a moment to notice—and others, he assumes, may never catch on. Each version of her is just a shade different than the last—suitable to play the part she needs without drawing attention to herself.

There's enough common ground between all of them that it's difficult to track—she's always quick with a joke, earnestly determined, and just brash and proud and sarcastic enough for flavor, but what parts aren't truly hers? Where does the acting end? When is she just Jester?

Caleb shelves these thoughts for later.

Small steps, he reminds himself. Just one fact at a time.

"Most tieflings, as far as I've read and come to understand," he begins. "They—their blood, rather—it grants them the use and protection of fire."

He watches her closely, but she continues to stare back at him. He wonders if he can see it—wonders if he studies her diligently enough, he can watch her physically take on a different side of herself and present him with the most fitting set of characteristics she has.

Her phantasmal, duplicitous twin is not the only double Jester has tucked away. Of this, Caleb is certain.

But he drops his gaze anyway, not wanting to crowd her. He's already outed her as a liar, and she'd returned the favor. They both know this room is cloaked with dishonesty—both realize they use untruthfulness as a crutch.

He's hoping something small like this—an inconsequential detail—can help lure them both into some semblance of honesty.

"Yeah, of course," she answers in that wind chime cadence of hers. He glances up to see her already looking at him, smiling faintly. She appears no different, but he knows something's changed.

He nods. "But you…you seem to be more comfortable in the cold."

She nods back, though he senses a hesitation about her this time.

"Yeah," she says again. "I…I don't do as well with fire as other tieflings do." Her gaze drops once more. "I don't really know why."

Caleb knows exactly why—it's because her father is a damned water gensai—but he says nothing. Jester is nobody's fool. She knows that well enough, he's sure.

He racks his brain for something to say—something to keep that prickly silence at bay—when she speaks.

"I tried to make myself resistant to it." Jester is aimlessly braiding the tassels dangling off the edges of his throw blanket. Caleb nearly chokes.

"You what?"

Jester shrugs, unruffled. He watches her fingers weave the strings into a neat little plait. She won't look him in the eye.

"When I was younger, back at the Chateau. My mama, she used to—a long time ago, she had an act that involved fire. It was really popular—even more popular than her singing, I think. I don't really remember." Her brow furrows gently as she picks up more pieces of fringe to braid. Caleb just watches her silently.

"Anyway, I tried to recreate it." She pauses, briefly, apparently focused on her handiwork. Caleb doesn't push her. "It didn't work so well."

He has no such memory of the event, obviously, but his mind's eye quickly presents him with that exact scenario—a small blue tiefling, horns barely poking out from her tangled curls, eyes bright as she reaches out, grasping for a flame—

"It burned you," he guesses quietly.

She nods silently.

Caleb swallows hard. Considers telling her that he has had his fair share of problems with fire—that he knows what it feels like to be burned, that she isn't alone in her fear of flames, he too has overreached whilst trying to master an element out of his control, that he is haunted by ash and embers—

"I favor my mother," Caleb offers instead, surprising even himself. Since when does he feel the need to speak unnecessarily? Why is he suddenly obliged to fill the silence?

Jester brightens immediately, though, and he realizes he has no choice but to continue. Disappoint that face? He doubts he could even if he wanted to.

"Really?" Jester asks breathlessly, eyes shining in the darkness.

Caleb nods, lips pulling up faintly. Her cheer is catching.

"Ja. We both had red hair. My father, he was…" Caleb swallows hard. He has not allowed himself to revisit those memories in so long. "He was tall, and broad. A brick wall of a man, the way farmers tend to be."

Jester blinks with surprise. "You were a farmer?"

Caleb laughs quietly. "I was, a very long time ago." He skates his fingers across the cover of the Kenku book, idly lost in thought. "I wasn't very good at it."

"What did you farm?" Jester presses. She's scooted closer since Caleb began speaking, and he looks up to see her right beside him, entranced by his story, hands on her knees as she leans into his space.

"Ah." His brain stutters for a moment—caught like a wheel in a bog—before he stumbles on. "We grew wheat, mostly. We grew everything we needed but…wheat is what we sold to make a living."

"That's so exciting!" Jester gushes. "A real farmer!"

Caleb crooks an eyebrow. "As opposed to a fake one?" he asks, but she's waving his remark away, eyes bright with excitement.

"How do you say wheat in Zemnian?" she asks urgently, and he chuckles lowly.

"Weizen," he answers dutifully, his native language rolling smoothly off his tongue as always.

"Weizen." She tries to repeat it, but the Zemnian word clashes horrifically with her lilting accent, and it comes out all wrong. She wrinkles her nose at the sound of it, like even she can't believe what just came out of her mouth, and Caleb outright laughs.

"Wheat farmers!" Jester looks truly mesmerized, and Caleb can't help but smile back. "Tell me about it! What did you do? Did you have chores? Did you—" she cuts herself off with a gasp that would make Caleb reflexively reach for his pouch if Jester hadn't already seized his hand in both of hers.

He looks at her, bewildered, as she brings his captured hand up to her chest, eyes wide, mouth agape.

"Did you have animals?" she whispers, like the fate of the known world teeters on his response.

Caleb's entire conscious awareness has been narrowed down to the feeling of her hands holding his.

"Ja," he manages, the affirmative Zemnian word unusually clumsy on his tongue. "Ah, we had, um, a cow, and two horses, and—" she's squeezed his hand tighter, eyes like absolute stars "—chickens," he manages to rattle off.

Under her starlight stare, he stammers out more stories of his youth—giving life and voice to memories he's kept locked away for ages. She's enraptured by his artless tales, and Caleb feels the most irrational flush crawling up his neck. There is absolutely nothing of interest or consequence in the life of a simple Zemnian farmer, but she hangs on to his every word like he's the most talented bard in the world.

"Can we go?" she asks he's finished showing her the small scars on his hands from being pecked by chickens. She shakes his hand where she still holds it—where she hasn't let it go, all this time. "Caleb, can we go there next? To your farm? To your parents?"

The lightness he'd felt in her presence dims, suddenly. Caleb feels reality crash back into him, and he winces on instinct.

"My parents they…" Fire erupts in his mind's eye. A scream echoes distantly in his brain. He looks away. "They are gone now, Jester."

He feels her shrink beside him—watches her close in on herself at the edge of his vision. She drops his hand, and Caleb fights the urge to grab hold of hers again.

"Oh," she whispers. "Oh, gods, Caleb, I'm so sorry, I didn't—"

"I never told you," he interrupts her gently. "It isn't your fault."

They sit quietly beside each other. Caleb traces runes on the cover of his book.

"I want to make them proud," he murmurs. The truth burns where it lies coiled in his throat—his past clawing to escape, daring him to tell her, to see how much she cares for his silly stories and foolish tricks when she knows—

Caleb looks away. "That…that is my selfish request."

They're so close to each other now, on the bed. He's still beneath the covers and she's still above them but she's leaning towards him and he's facing her and it's all so…warm.

"That doesn't sound selfish to me," Jester tells him quietly. "And…if it helps at all, Caleb, I think we're all pretty proud of you."

He lifts an eyebrow, and she hastens to continue.

"Really! You—you're smart and you know what everything is and you decoded Avantika's journal and you put up the fire wall and you counterspelled her and you saved us from falling in the jungle and you're always using Frumpkin to see ahead and you listen to people and—" she breaks off, somewhat breathless. Caleb can only stare. "And you're really good at magic, Caleb."

Her compliment—earnest and eager—warms him gently, and he smiles despite himself. "Thank you, Jester," he answers. "You're quite good yourself."

She beams, basking in the glow of his praise

"It's nothing that impressive," she murmurs back.

"Oh?" he angles his head, tossing a wry grin her way. "You can speak with the dead. That's outlawed in the Empire, you know."

Jester goes stock-still, blinking. "What?" she blurts out.

Caleb just nods, maintaining a playfully serious tone. "Ja. Necromancy has been forbidden for decades." He leans closer—dizzying himself with his own proximity—to speak in a conspiring tone. "You're a criminal, you know."

She lets out a falsely scandalized gasp. "How dare you!" She's reared back, perched on her heels, drawing herself up as tall as she can on his bed, looking down at him with her nose in the air, fighting a smile.

"I will have you know, sir, that I am a lady of the highest integrity," she informs him archly, and Caleb snorts at her antics. "I don't know what sort of…nonsense you think someone like myself would get involved with. Me? Perform necromancy?" Her fake indignation is absolutely hysterical, and Caleb coughs he's so rusty at laughing. "Why, the next thing you know, you're going to accuse me of conniving with goblins and wizards."

Caleb falls back on his pillows—laughing and coughing—chest straining in a way it hasn't for as long as he can remember. The bed bounces as Jester follows suit. A companionable silence follows, and Caleb idly decides he could spend the rest of his life right here, in this room, with this warmth in his chest and this silly little tiefling beside him.

"Caleb?"

"Ja?"

"What if Uk'Otoa tells Fjord to do something terrible?"

And just like that, the mood swings again.

Caleb breathes deep, considering her question and ignoring the voice in his head that sounds traitorously like Eodwulf's as it mocks him for having a lovely girl in his bed asking about someone else.

Jester is a lovely girl, but this bed isn't his bed—not in that way. It's merely a shared space. A shared space where they both happened to be rather underdressed. Discussing very intimate matters. In very close proximity. That's all. Nothing odd or disreputable about it.

Caleb clears his throat somewhat awkwardly.

"Well," he begins, leaning back against the headboard, jolting slightly when Jester does the same, her head right beside his as they both stare up at the ceiling. "I imagine Fjord would—on some level—be inclined to listen. It would certainly depend on the severity of the request."

Jester hums noncommittally, and Caleb begins counting cracks in the ceiling, willing himself not to push, not to pry, let her work through her thoughts on her own—

"I don't think he's evil," she confides quietly. "But I also don't think he's good at being…good."

Caleb dips his head in acknowledgment, stark blue eyes tracing a particularly long, spindly fissure in the wood above him.

"To be honest, Jester, I don't know how good any of us are at that," he tells her, and she sighs, long and hard.

"Yeah," she mutters, disheartened. There's a pause. "Well, except Caduceus."

Caleb allows this with a nod. "That is true. Caduceus is certainly the best of us."

Jester hums again, and Caleb tries not to be unnerved by her lack of answers. She's given up a lot already. The last thing he wants to do is push her to give up more.

Another lapse of silence. Caleb wonders if it's a good silence or not.

"I thought of the selfish thing I want to ask for," she tells him after a moment, and Caleb blinks, straightening up a bit.

"Oh, uh, what is it?" He hadn't expected her to mull that question over all this time, and braces himself for a request he knows is far outside his meager capabilities—

She fusses with the hem of her nightgown, averting his gaze.

"I want you to call Frumpkin," she requests softly, a gentle lilt to her voice that ruins Caleb the moment he hears it. She chances a look at him, searching for his eyes from behind her wild, ink-blue curls. "Please?"

Caleb swallows hard. She is not—he is certain—trying to present herself in any particular way. She is not flirting, or being coy, or angling for some seductive tilt. She's just a girl in a nightgown, peering at him with such delicate, cautious hope, that he feels every single wall he built in the asylum crumble to nothing.

Eodwulf's voice is back in his head—low and humored, words tilted with his signature wry grin.

"You've got it bad, Widogast."

Caleb is inclined to agree.

Not trusting himself to speak, Caleb merely gives his fingers a practiced snap, and feels the tug of conjuration magic as his familiar appears seemingly out of nowhere to drop neatly into Jester's waiting lap.

The cat looks up at her, blinks twice, and gives his best mlep.

Jester's answering smile is dazzling.

"Hello Frumpkin!" she whispers excitedly, beaming as she starts to scratch the cat under his chin.

Frumpkin purrs, pleased, and Caleb watches as his familiar arches his neck back to give her better access. Nothing really happens for a while—Caleb sits beneath his blankets, chin resting on his propped hands as he watches Jester fuss over Frumpkin, listening to her murmur sweetly in Infernal.

After a moment, she scoops the cat up in her arms, and Caleb cracks a grin as his familiar's legs dangle a bit before she wrangles him comfortably into a hug, drawing him close to kiss the top of his head, between his ears.

"I don't want to fight Fjord." Jester's voice is muffled by Frumpkin's fur as she buries her face in his coat. There's a pause, and Caleb searches for what to say, assuming it's his turn to speak—

"But I will."

Caleb stares at her, openly surprised.

Jester hugs Frumpkin closer. "If Fjord does something bad—like, really really evil—I'll fight him." She stares off to the side—into nothingness—but her gaze is steady. "I don't know what will happen to him when we leave the ocean, but I don't think Uk'Otoa—" she mocks the name of the ancient demigod, and the boat rocks in response, though Caleb convinces himself it's a coincidence "—will be happy."

"Fjord's abilities comes from Uk'Otoa," Caleb supplies. "If he disobeys him, he may lose his magic."

"Then Fjord has to decide that we mean more to him than his power," Jester mutters back, petulant even to her own ears. She glances up at Caleb suddenly, and he blinks as the intensity her expression had held a moment ago melts away to uneasiness. "Was that selfish?"

Caleb reaches out, running coarse fingers across Frumpkin's head. His familiar mewls at the recognizable touch, tail curling at the end.

"Wanting your friends to not betray you in order to appease their evil, underwater demigod patrons is not selfish, Jester," he assures her. "That's…that's a very simple request. A baseline, really."

She nods, slowly, but the resolve in her eyes hasn't shifted. She means this, he realizes, in a way she means very few things.

His memory fashions him a scene that he hates the moment he sees it—Jester, on her knees, bloodied, bruised, weaponless, no spells left, defenseless as a Fjord-shaped figure looms above her, dark as pitch with glowing, yellow eyes, falchion in hand, water everywhere—

"It will not come to that," Caleb's tone is solid—as unshakable as any verbal component to any spell. "There will be no fight, Jester, I swear to you."

"I hope not," she whispers.

The silence lulls back over them, and Caleb is just opening his mouth with no godly idea of what he's going to say when she interrupts.

"Caleb?"

He smiles to himself. "Ja?"

"Do you have a spell that can put me to sleep?"

His smile freezes, before sliding off his face completely.

"What?" he repeats stupidly. He shakes himself, marshaling his focus. "Jester, if you have trouble sleeping, you should tell Caduceus," he informs her seriously. "I'm sure he has a tea—"

She flops over in that endearingly inelegant way of hers, burying her face in one of his pillows.

"I don't wanna drink dead people," is her muffled response, and Caleb watches her, some of his unease melting away.

"Fair enough, but I can't help you, I'm afraid. Enchanted sleep—at least the kind I am capable of—only last for a few minutes." He eyes her where she's spread out beside him and is struck with the sudden and most irrational desire to brush wayward strands of hair away from her face. He snatches up his book a bit wildly, frantically occupying his hands.

He swallows. Hard.

"You could—" bad idea bad idea bad idea bad idea "—stay here, for the night."

Jester perks up immediately, pushing herself up by her arms so quickly she nearly catches Caleb in the face with one curved horn as he leans away.

"Really?" Her delighted gasp startles Frumpkin, who arches up in surprise before slinking over to his master.

Caleb shrugs, as if his anxiety isn't unraveling his entire consciousness and asking pretty girls to stay in his room is a thing he does all the time. Or has ever done.

"Sure," he replies easily. "I, uh, I was mostly going to be copying spells and reading anyway."

It isn't true, but it sounds enough like something he'd do that Jester accepts it with a nod. "I'd like that a lot," she murmurs. "Beau snores and I…I think she needs some space too."

Caleb nods. Beau had leveled an entirely unfair amount of blame at herself after the incident in the chamber. She had no idea touching the orb would whisk her away the way that it did, and he knows she would have sooner died down there—standing guard as her friends made their escape—before she'd ever take the easy way out of anything.

"She'll be alright," Caleb assures her. "Beau's tougher than all of us."

Jester nods, and Caleb watches as she turns her head, adjusting herself to rest comfortably on his spare pillow. She still isn't under his sheets, and Caleb almost laughs—they've broken so many rules of propriety he isn't entirely sure how he's going to look the Ruby in the eye the next time they meet.

Still, he lays his down as well, and they stare at each other sideways like that for a long moment, swaying with the boat, lost in their own heads. Frumpkin settles down between them, curling up neatly.

"Do you want me to turn the lights off?" he asks quietly, hardly daring to speak, not wanting to break the spell. He gestures to the dancing lights that still circle calmly around the ceiling.

Jester shakes her head, and Caleb drops his hand.

"Jester?" There's something in her expression that hasn't been there all evening—a raw piece of honesty that draws his eye. He frowns, troubled. "Jester, is everything—?"

"I don't want to be alone." Her voice cracks, and Caleb's hands curl into fists. "That's my selfish request. That's the thing I want. I just…I don't want to be left."

Gods but she is going to be the death of him.

"Jester," Caleb murmurs. He wrestles with himself—he wants to touch her, wants to brush away her hair, her tears, her melancholy, but he cannot bring himself to do it. He settles with a gaze just this side of scorching in its intensity. "This whole group—all of us, every member of the Nein—you know we care for you, ja?" He searches her expression, suddenly concerned. "No one wants to leave you behind, you mean too much to us."

She just stares at him. Words keep spilling out.

"What happened back in that…that chamber, Jester—that place where Twiggy took us. It was a mistake. An accident." He feels warmth and realizes—belatedly—he's holding her arm tightly. He doesn't remember reaching for her at all.

Jester's eyes are slightly wide.

"The whole thing was fucked from the start. We were all disorganized and confused. No one meant to leave you behind—we would never do that, would never let that happen." The raw sincerity of his voice hangs heavy in the air between them. "I would never let that happen."

He feels overheated, suddenly—like he's burning alive. The idea that Jester doubts them—that she thinks that any force in this fucking universe could take her from them—rouses something bitter and furious inside of him.

And yet—it had nearly happened. She'd been the last one out of the chamber. The last one left facing a dragon. Caleb closes his eyes because who is he—of all people—to promise safety to anyone? Who has he protected? His parents are gone, Molly is gone, Jester was so nearly—

Her hand is cold against his cheek. Caleb blinks twice to find her staring back at him evenly.

"I know, Caleb," she whispers. "It's okay. I believe you."

He reaches up to place his hand over hers where she holds his face.

"It will never happen again, Jester," he vows quietly. "Not to you, not to anyone. We are all in this together, ja?"

"Ja," she repeats, smiling as she mimics his accent, thumb brushing across his cheekbone until she's suddenly pulling away.

"I am—" she hesitates, cheeks suddenly coloring, and Caleb frowns because she hasn't blushed once this whole time and now she's—?

"It's a bit chilly in here," she confesses quietly. "Even for me. Could I—?"

He reaches across her to grasp the other corner of blankets and sheets and pulls them back, allowing her to quickly wiggle underneath. When he drops his arm, she's back on his pillow, peeking out from beneath his blanket with a grin.

"Thank you, Caleb," she sing-songs, smiling to herself like a fool.

He tips her a wink, because he's feeling particularly bold. "Of course," is his measured response, even as his heart hammers away at his chest. "Gute nacht, Jester."

I swore off tumblr but was told there’s a strong widojest crowd here so I came crawling back just for this blueberry and her dirty wizard

I talk way more on my twitter (@reduxwriter) and have more widojest and crit role fic on my ao3 (MidwesternDuchess)

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Swift As Karma (Part 28)

She had too much to think about between that simple thank you and the invasion. The familiarity of another sleepless night set in. It set in with a deeper heaviness. She brought a hand to her forehead and clutched at her hairline. Just when she had thought that the gravity of her situation had set in, in full, a new weight piled itself on. 

Somehow it still hadn’t felt real. Not until they began making plans. 

Plans that focused on her. That depended on her. 

Azula grew twice as frustrated. Frustrated because she should be used to this. It wasn’t like she’d never been handed an important task before. She had been trusted time and time again with tasks meant for seasoned shoulders with enough years experience to match her age and then some. And she had succeeded. 

So what was different now?

Why was the responsibility suddenly so crushing. 

She lightly wrapped the heal of her hand against her forehead. She had to get it together. If she was going to survive, she needed to maintain composure and maintain it as rigidly as her father had trained her to. Regardless, Azula felt nothing but anxious. Anxious and terribly small. And something so small couldn’t possibly contain power so large. 

Perhaps there was a way to transfer it. She could hand it off to Katara. Katara could be the avatar and the world would be in better hands. It would also stop the girl from complaining as she’d be with Aang forever and closer than before. 

Yes, that was a plan. They could get on that bison and fly to somewhere teeming with spirit energy and find a way to transplant the power. 

 A few silent tears escaped.

Even she knew that she was being a fool. A fool and a child. Only a fool or a child would try to pretend that something like that was possible. No, she was stuck with the power she had once craved. Stuck with the power she had stolen and she no longer wanted any part of it. Frankly, she no longer wanted any part in the war. 

She covered her face with her hands, trying to keep her misery silent. She was a monster and she was paying for it. And if she wasn’t paying for it, she soon would when Zuko came to take her back to father. 

.oOo.

Katara cringed from her place on the other end of the cavern. She knew that she wasn’t the only one awake and she was almost certain that the firebender didn’t share that knowledge. She groaned inwardly. Why was it always like this? Always the two of them unable to sleep. 

She wished that it was Sokka or Toph who was awake. Hell, she’d even take TyLee at that point. She wanted to be awake with someone who could comfort her.  

Quiet as she was trying to be, Azula’s soft cries still found Katara’s ears. A part of her, the old, compassionate Katara called out to comfort her. To go over there and offer the reassurance she sought for herself.

She sat up right, putting some serious consideration into it before laying back down and ultimately deciding against that. 

She had a feeling that the former princess wouldn’t take well to getting caught crying anyhow. 

Katara laid awake until light filtered into the cavern. She heard Toph yawn and the daily routines began. She had to admit that it was refreshing to hear Sokka’s daily, “now where’d I put my left sock?” complaint. 

TyLee cheerfully ran a comb through her hair after fishing it out of Azula’s bag. The firebender herself had apparently fallen asleep at some point because she was sprawled out with one arm above her head and the other over her torso. Usually she was the first one up. 

Toph allowed her to sleep for another fifteen minutes or so before nudging her awake for some begrudging earthbending lessons. Not that Azula tried to get out of them. 

“You doing any better?” Sokka asked, dropping down next to her.

Katara shrugged, “I guess. Compared to before.”

“It’s hard having her around isn’t it?”

She gave a nod. “Sometimes I hate her with all of my soul. I want to hurt her. But then I remember that Aang is a part of her now.” She paused for a good long while. “And sometimes I understand her. That’s scary, Sokka.”

“That’s just how you are Katara, you’re sympathetic. And maybe she could use some sympathy.” 

“Or maybe she’ll take advantage of it and use her newfound avatar powers as soon as she starts to get the upper hand.”  Katara watched as the girl in question shifted the rocks on the wall. Jutting parts of it out and then in once more. “She learns way too quick. I don’t think I should teach her to waterbend. It was bad enough when she only had fire to fight us with.” 

“She helped get me back here didn’t she?”

“Which is one of the two only reasons why I’m letting her stay here.” She watched Azula pause for a breather before resuming. That kind of drive and determination both frightened and intrigued Katara. That kind of drive could help them win the war despite the dreary outlook. That kind of drive could get her back in her father’s favor. 

.oOo.

“Where’s the bison?” Azula asked. 

“Why?” Sokka returned with a question. 

“Travel would be faster with your shaggy beast around.”

“He’s not a beast!” Katara snapped, leaving the implication that the real beast was Azula. Part of her wished that the peasant would just say it so that they could begin a familiar round of arguing. 

“He’s too big for the caves so we dropped him off in the woods across the river. He’s pretty self-sufficient and he has Momo so he won’t get lonely.” Sokka explained. 

“He’s very lonely, actually.” Katara muttered. “He hasn’t been himself since you took Aang from him. They had a special connection you know?” There was a hefty degree of bitterness seeping from her words. “I’m guessing that, that connection transferred too.”

Azula frowned. “I’m supposed to take care of the avatar’s pet now?” 

“You are the avatar.” Katara folded her arms. 

Azula crinkled her nose. She supposed that it might not be so bad to befriend the bison. She’d never really had an animal companion of her own. Her father hated any creature that didn’t have scales or a forked tongue. Even then, his menagerie wasn’t of the pet variety. “Well, the sooner you show me to the bison, the sooner we can leave this rundown place.”

TyLee perked up, her eyes wide with delight. “We get to ride Appa!?” She gave two little claps and Azula’s mood softened some. 

“Yeah, we get to ride the bison.” 

“Where to?” Toph asked. 

Azula looked to Sokka, “where is your father.”

“Where do you guys usually keep war prisoners.” 

Azula grimace. So they’d be doing another prison break. She had a feeling that this one wasn’t going to go as smoothly as the first.

[itsclydebitches]

Agree 100% about Roy not caring. That “because jealousy” was more in reference to the way this scenario usually plays out, but you’re right that Ted Lasso didn’t go there (and that, in and of itself, is pretty refreshing). As you say, that becomes explicit when Nate decides to confess. I’m paraphrasing here because I don’t recall where exactly the scene is, but: “Jamie just spoke to Keeley and you wanted to kill him. I kissed her. Don’t you want to at least headbutt me?” Roy isn’t threatened by Nate like he is Jamie and it’s not the first time Nate has been compared to a “real” man and failed to elicit the same reactions that they do. After trying on a suit that fits his style more (imo) he opts for one that’s identical to what Roy wore when he became coach, but no one is shouting for Nate like they do “he’s every-fucking-where Roy Kent.”

However, I wouldn’t say that Keely doesn’t care in the way Roy doesn’t care. If she did, she would have shrugged off the kiss with the same nonchalant indifference as he did, not whisper it conspiratorially as a confession when Roy can’t escape (in the middle of a photo shoot). To Keeley, Nate is perceived as enough of a “threat” to worry at least a little over Roy’s reaction. She trusts that he’ll take it well (he already worked through her sleeping with Jamie when they weren’t exclusive) and she absolutely trusts him... but she definitely doesn’t have a “Whatever. Forget about it. Pff that was nothing” reaction like Roy does. Especially when this is paired with the kiss itself. Keeley’s arms come up in shock before she goes rigidly straight. She has a horrible, pacifying smile on her face the second Nate pulls back. It’s clear that Keeley is uncomfortable and to me that is a moment of feeling violated, even if she’s not having a breakdown about it. And at the very least, her friendship with Nate has changed now. She’s lost the ease with which she was comfortably fixing his tie because now she knows he’s not reading that affection platonically, yet the story doesn’t grapple with that loss for her.

Even if we were to agree that Keeley is totally unconcerned and dismissive of the moment, that itself is the criticism. The complaint I’ve encountered (from more than just this anon) is that none of this was about Keeley, despite the fact that all this was done to her. As you lay out, it’s all about how Nate feels initialized by other’s reactions. Which is fantastic writing! But it’s also writing that ignores Keeley’s place in this dynamic. She’s the one who gets the surprise kiss, but she’s not the one who gets to work through the repercussions of that. The problem in no way lies in how all this unravels for Nate and Roy (that’s fantastically done imo), just that in order to accomplish this, Keeley is used as a catalyst rather than the developed character we normally get with her. It apparently doesn’t matter how she feels about her friend planting one on her when he knows she’s in a relationship, then needing to confess that to her boyfriend after an ex also cornered her at a funeral with a love confession. That’s a lot! But we only explore how this impacts the men around her: Jamie’s growth, Roy’s indifference, Nate’s insecurities. It’s wonderfully written, but would have arguably been even better if Keeley had been given the same consideration in that plot-line as the guys were. Especially given that she’s on the receiving end of their mistakes.

One thing that upset me about season 2 of red lasso was how the kids between Nate and Lesley was handled. It felt like there was much more focus on Nate and Roy’s feelings rather than how Keeleu felt being kissed without her consent—the issue of consent didn’t come up at all within the episode

Yeah, I was a bit upset by that too. Specifically, that consent didn’t come up during Keeley’s discussion with Roy. I don’t think that acknowledgement is necessary right in the moment—as a woman, Keeley’s response really resonated with me. I wouldn’t have shoved Nate and started berating him for a non-consensual kiss in some epic, feminist take-down. I would have done precisely what she did: trying to smooth things over by tending to his emotional needs because he’s a friend who made this mistake, but is now immediately apologizing for it, and oh fuck this is so awkward I just want it to go away please let's just forget this—but I would have liked the subject of consent to have come up when Keeley is feeling safe and supported with Roy.

I think the underlying problem here is precisely what you say: "there was much more focus on Nate and Roy's feelings rather than on how Keeley felt being kissed without her consent." Really, the scene is not even about Keeley. It sounds awful to say and it’s absolutely worth unpacking that she’s used as a means to forward Nate’s story here, but that’s ultimately what we’re left with. The kiss scene—and much of what comes after it—exists to tell us something about Nate, not something about Keeley. If you look back at her speech to Nate right before the kiss happens, you’ll notice that although Keeley is telling us a lot about herself and her family, everything functions as an insight into Nate instead:

“I did use to worry that I’d end up like my mom. She spent years working at the same company tirelessly just for a man to take all the credit.”—That’s supposed to resonate with Nate because he believes that he’s working tirelessly while Ted takes all the credit.

“She wasn’t brave enough to dream big, so I decided to do things very differently.”—That’s supposed to resonate with Nate because at this point he believes he has the fortitude Ted lacks (not “running away” during a panic attack) and is determined to coach in the non-Lasso Way.

“And then I met Rebecca and she inspired me to want to be a boss.”—That’s supposed to resonate with Nate because he met Ted and now he also, as said at the start of this moment, wants to be the boss.

“The scariest part of all this is making the decision to just go for it. Once you do that, everything just sort of—”—So Nate goes for it and kisses her.

None of this is really about Keeley, despite the fact that she is talking about herself. Instead, this is a scene framed around Nate’s perspective; how he is interpreting these events and coming to the wrong conclusion. It’s not an excuse, just an insight into his current thought process. Everything Keeley says is a direct parallel to what he’s currently dealing with. She’s fixing his tie after complimenting him in his new suit, setting up a pretty classic situation where a man thinks that any friendly attention equals romantic attention. We get claustrophobic shots where the viewer just knows a kiss is coming. Then Keeley tells him to just go for what Nate wants, the only thing standing in his way is his own fear, building on the scene in the restaurant where Nate rudely tells the waitress that they’ll be taking the window table, rather than continuing to ask for it. So Nate takes, only realizing when Keeley goes stiff that there is, in fact, more to consider than overcoming his own doubts. Like her consent. Like the fact that she's in a relationship with his friend and professional peer. None of that is occurring to Nate because he's so caught up in his own definition of success, taking the advice people give him and twisting it into an extreme. This scene exists to highlight how Nate has come to see the world, to build him up through this warped thought process... and then have him fail again. He's not the boss, Keeley doesn't want him, all the advice he's been given (supposedly) doesn't work, and all of it is pushing Nate closer and closer to moment when he'll blow up at Ted, rip the "BELIEVE" sign, and join Richard.

If this scene is at all about consent, it’s about Nate’s growing belief that consent is an obstacle to his success, not about Keeley grappling with someone breaking hers. This moment works to forward Nate’s characterization, not hers, and then later Keeley’s confession to Roy likewise becomes about his emotional state, not hers: hearing about two other men vying for Keeley’s attention during a photo-shoot where the editors decide he doesn’t look good enough next to her to include in the issue ends up, as Roy will tell the Diamond Dogs, hurting his feelings. In a vacuum it’s not bad writing to allow certain characters to take center stage like that—especially when the third character in question, Keeley, is incredibly well developed in other respects. She’s not used as a prop throughout the show’s run—but given the specific context of, “Man plants a non-consensual kiss on a woman and then the whole thing becomes about how much pain he’s in due to the rejection, and how much pain her boyfriend is in because jealousy, and there's nothing about what she's going through, never seen that before” I’m in full agreement that it’s disappointing that Ted Lasso didn’t break the mold in that respect.

But overall, I’m okay with that disappointment. As always, we should discuss it and strive to improve in the future, but Ted Lasso is a show that’s doing so much right I’m hyper-aware of the ways in which it will inevitably fail. Simply because no show is perfect and no show can tackle every possible subject. For every way in which Ted Lasso may be disappointing—the lack of queer rep so far, sidelined activism, Sam/Rebecca, this scene here—there are twice as many aspects that I think it’s nailing: personal growth, suicide, absent and abusive fathers, panic attacks, strong friendships of all sorts, developed black characters, the intersection of femininity and power, etc. As someone who is quite critical of other shows that have become offensive in their handling of sensitive subjects (RWBY), I want to nurture the shows that are so clearly trying, and that are succeeding in so many ways, always reminding myself that yeah, of course there will be times when I’m disappointed. In generally good shows (in this case, arguably a great show) I try not to let those pockets of disappointment color the whole product, rejecting Ted Lasso as a whole because it inevitably screws up at times. Which, to be clear, I don’t think you’re doing, anon, I just bring it up because I’ve been somewhat surprised by how much backlash I've encountered about season two, where those pockets are upheld over, well, everything else. This is one of those moments for me. Do I wish Ted Lasso had tackled Nate’s perspective and Roy’s feelings and Keeley’s reaction to having her trust broken? Absolutely. Do I hope Ted Lasso continues to improve, taking feedback from its audience and upholding the subjects we feel it has overlooked? You know it. Do I want to damn all of season two on the basis of a missed opportunity, even one that personally hits really close to home? Not particularly.

[pyropsychiccollector]

Danganronpa: Another IF (Chapter 2, Part 3)

            “Upupu… You never let me down… That was a perfect reaction!” Monokuma laughed at Naegi’s overreaction to the different wakeup call.

            “Wh-What the hell?! Why are you in here?!” The Luckster demanded.

            Monokuma sighed contentedly.

            “I’m trying something new! Instead of using the PA system, I came to wake you up myself!”

            “But why?”

            “’Cause it’s fun~! And since I’m here, there’s something I wanna tell you...”

            “Which would be…?” Naegi deadpanned.

            “Aren’t you a bit toooo relaxed? I mean, word around the water cooler is that something’s happened to one of your buddy-buddy classmates!” Monokuma callously announced.

            “Huh?!”

            “What’s the matter? You look like someone tried to chop your head off with a dull axe and gave up halfway!” The bear was having entirely too much fun…

            “Something happened?! What do you mean something happened?!”

            Monokuma just laughed at the Luckster’s expense.

            “Upupu! Figuring that out is your responsibility! Good luuuck!” With that ominous farewell, Monokuma took his leave. For several moments, Naegi just sat there in bed, unwilling to believe that another classmate had…

            No. He wasn’t going to even entertain that thought. Naegi threw off the covers, slipped on his shoes, and rushed off to the cafeteria…

            ~*~

            When Makoto reached the cafeteria, he was immediately tackle-hugged by Sayaka, who was deeply relieved he was okay.

            “There you are, Naegi!” Junko similarly looked happy that Naegi was unharmed.

            “You all right?” Leon asked with a nervous smile. The reason for that was obvious – they hadn’t all arrived yet.

            “Did you come here because of what Monokuma said?” Sakura asked. The Luckster looked around – it looked like Maizono, Junko, Leon, Sakura, and Togami were the only ones present. That left seven people unaccounted for.

            “Is it just you guys?” Naegi felt really uneasy. “Where are the others?”

            “Either they’ve gone to verify what Monokuma said… or they got caught up in the something he mentioned…” Togami trailed off ominously.

            “S-Something?!” The Luckster panicked.

            “Perhaps… another murder has taken place…” Sakura grimaced. For Naegi personally, that was the worst-case scenario that sprung to mind, and he eliminated it as a possibility because he didn’t want to believe it… The baseball star flinched as he looked off to the side.

            “If so, it’s probably because of last night… with… y’know…”

            “No way! Over a stupid memory?!” Junko was floored.

            Togami rolled his eyes.

            “’Stupid’? I wouldn’t be so sure about that… There must have been someone who thought otherwise…”

            “H-Huh?” Naegi blurted out.

            “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to assume everyone views the world through your eyes?” Togami callously pointed out.

            “You could’ve said something about that, yesterday!” Junko gritted her teeth.

            “Do you have the memory of a goldfish? This is King of the Castle, not ‘Everyone Shares the Castle.’ I gain nothing from going out of my way to throw you a lifesaver!”

            Maizono hung her head as she reluctantly removed herself from Naegi.

            “Are you still going on about that…?”

            “He’s definitely messed up in the head if he enjoys this…” Leon scoffed. Sakura played peacekeeper in that moment.

            “Rather than squabbling, we should be trying to figure out what it is Monokuma said happened…”

            “Very well.” Togami obliged the Ultimate Fighter without so much as a complaint, walking off immediately.

            “How about it, Maizono? Wanna pair up?” The Luckster ran a hand through his hair. However, the idol slowly shook her head.

            “I, uh… I’ll go with Junko for now…” Her voice was subdued, but she somehow managed to crack a small smile. “I’m glad you’re okay, though… Naegi…”

            As both teenagers blushed lightly, Naegi couldn’t help feeling the same way. He’d been worried about her most of all, when Monokuma said something had happened.

            “Eh, I’ll tag along with you, dude.” Leon patted his shoulder as Maizono and Junko exited the cafeteria. At the very least, they’d begun a friendship last night, after sharing their secrets. It wasn’t anything like Mondo and Ishimaru’s friendship, which was just fine with them.

            ~*~

            The search on the first floor didn’t reveal anything. Junko and Maizono had gone knocking on all the dorm room doors to see if anyone would answer, but no one was in, or no one was answering, at least. Sakura was checking out the trash room, and no one was in the storage room. Or the sauna, for that matter.

            Moving into the school zone, they did find Yamada searching the classrooms, but he didn’t know anything that they didn’t already. Ishimaru was in the entrance hall, also searching. There was no one to be found in the A/V room or the school store. Mondo and Chihiro were in the gymnasium; an odd pair in Naegi’s opinion, but they were getting along better than they usually did. As in, Mondo wasn’t acting as awkward around the programmer as he usually was, and Fujisaki seemed genuinely at ease. Worried for their friends, but the programmer really seemed like she wanted to be around Mondo, not nervous at all that he might get mad or frustrated.

            That still left Kirigiri, Celes, and Asahina to be found. Makoto and Leon moved on to the second floor, where Togami could be seen leisurely striding toward the library. Deciding they didn’t want to run into conflict with the heir, they decided to check out the pool area.

            “Hey, Makoto – check that out.” Leon pointed as they entered the first room. It was then that Naegi noticed the doors were unlocked. Both the boys’ and girls’ rooms.

            In the next moment, the school’s PA system rang out.

            “For investigative purposes, the doors have been unlocked. Please, explore to your hearts’ content~.” Monokuma chimed in before the screen abruptly went black again.

            “I-Investigative purposes?!” Naegi’s whole body tensed. Leon rubbed the back of his neck and scowled deeply.

            “Man… I got a bad feeling about this… Why don’t we each take a side? You find somethin’, just scream.”

            Naegi nodded faintly as he moved toward the girls’ door. Even if they were just investigating, Naegi didn’t quite want the baseball star to incur the wrath of the girls later, if nothing happened to be in there. Naegi’s heartbeat quickened as he placed his palm on the reader, and the door swung open…

            Nothing. Naegi breathed a sigh of relief. He paused briefly to listen for Leon, if he found anything, but nothing came. Naegi momentarily debated to go check on the baseball star – he didn’t like doubting the redhead, but if there was a crime scene, and Leon was tampering with it, it wouldn’t be good for any of them. Deciding he would give the redhead the benefit of a doubt, Naegi proceeded to the other door in the girls’ workout room. The door that led to the pool itself.

            Naegi’s heart stopped when the door swung open this time. It was hard not for his eyes to pan over to the most jarring sight. A body floating in the water, with spears skewering her… There was no doubt. It was Aoi Asahina, and she was dead. Time stopped dead in its tracks for Naegi, and Leon had opened the door on the boys’ side not a moment after Naegi had stumbled across the scene. They both let out panicked screams without realizing. Though they didn’t notice her at first, Celes was standing near the doors, near them, gripping one arm tightly and grimacing at the sight of their former classmate.

            It didn’t take long for the PA system to kick in again, and announce that a body had been discovered. There were three people there, after all.

            “We got a corpse here~! Get to the pool asap! We’ll be holding a Class Trial pretty soon, so make good use of the time you’ve got!” Again, the screen flickered off as soon as the announcement was finished.

            “What the hell…” Leon choked out as he stood there rigidly, before he clenched a fist and roared. “What the hell?! It hasn’t even been twelve hours yet, let alone twenty-four! Was this bastard of a killer really so desperate to keep their damn history to themselves?!”

             “It’s also possible they just wanted out…” Celes let out in a strained voice. Her face was showing more raw emotion than Naegi had seen in her yet. The Luckster supposed that finding a corpse would catch anyone off-guard, but the fact she was showing something beyond amusement was somehow… comforting. It humanized her, in his eyes. “Whatever the reason, this is simply… barbaric…”

            Leon rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair in aggravation.

            “No shit. We need to get everyone in here now. I don’t wanna start pokin’ around, and then have the finger pointed at me just ‘cause I was the first to find the body…”

            “You can hardly complain…” Celes hissed, and that was when it dawned on Naegi that, technically, she was the first to find the body. How long had she been standing here? Had she tampered with anything? Naegi didn’t like asking these questions, but they needed to ascertain the facts.

            Before he could voice any of these questions aloud, however, Togami and Kirigiri arrived from the boys’ side of the locker rooms. They were followed by Mondo and Fujisaki from the girls’ side. And like opening a floodgate, the remaining students came pouring in – Yamada, Sakura, Ishimaru, Junko, and Sayaka. Similar to how Naegi and Leon reacted, a good many of them panicked at the sight of Asahina. Sakura was the most furious out of all of them, having been the swimmer’s closest friend.

            “Curses…! I could not protect her!” Sakura howled, bursting with indignant fury.

            “Yet another soldier… has fallen victim…” Ishimaru sobbed.

            Togami was the odd one out, as usual, as he stood there smug and condescending.

            “And so, it begins again…”

            “Wh-Whoa, whoa…” Mondo whispered. His hand then twitched as a vein throbbed on his forehead. “What the hell is this?! Who fucking caved?! Give me a name now!”

            Apparently, Mondo was going to be eager to bash in the skull of the bastard who murdered Asahina. Though for some reason, Naegi got the vague sense there was more righteous anger behind the biker’s words than normal. The Luckster had a feeling he would need to understand any changes in the biker that had happened overnight; it was as if he were back to his old self, compared to how he reacted to receiving Monokuma’s second incentive.

            “A dream… ‘tis a dream! ‘Tis all but a dream!” Yamada nervously chewed his fingernails. “Aye, I have yet to break free from the womb! I have no recollection of my birth… GGGGGAH!”

            “How obnoxious…” Celes huffed. Junko scowled fiercely.

            “Are we just gonna ignore the fact someone murdered Asahina of all people? Don’t get me wrong, Fukawa didn’t deserve to get murdered either, but with her I can see why Hagakure ‘chose’ her! Asahina, though? The hell?”

            Togami crossed his arms and scoffed.

            “She was a gullible fool. I duly warned her to drop that naïve mindset, that everyone was her ‘friend’, and look where that got her. You all need to grow up and accept reality.” The blond sneered. “Out of all of us, Naegi most of all needs to come to grip with this. If he doesn’t, he’ll be our next victim…”

            Just as no one had been expecting such a heartless comment from Togami, no one saw Sayaka springing toward the heir like a bullet and slapping the hell out of him. Togami massaged his cheek as the idol glared at him with hot tears spilling from her eyes. His glasses were knocked loose, but had not completely fallen off his head.

            “Don’t ever say that again…!” Sayaka screamed. Togami glared back at her, his hands moving to adjust his glasses; but before he could utter a word of spite in response, Naegi gently took Maizono’s hand in his own while rubbing her back with his free hand.

            “H-Hey, hey… C’mon, Maizono… Don’t let him get to you. I’m not gonna die on you guys.”

            The singer hiccupped and sobbed before whirling around and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Togami looked as if he wanted to belittle Naegi’s promise, but he didn’t say a word more as he sharply turned his head away and clicked his teeth. Celes placed her hands on her hips.

            “Togami’s distasteful comment about Naegi aside, he brings up an interesting point. Thus far, there has been a single murder per incident. However, what is to stop that same killer, or mayhap even a different one, from killing someone else if they can get away with it while we are investigating?”

            Monokuma took that moment to suddenly appear, catching many of them off-guard.

            “Ohoho! Do not fear! For our academic coliseum, a single villain is allowed to kill a maximum of two people!”

            Yamada cocked his head.

            “Eh? Was that in the school rules?”

            “As of right now, it sure is~.” Monokuma nodded smugly. “If one person went around killing a bunch of people, you guys wouldn’t get to enjoy life here very long.”

            As the rules were updated on their ElectroIDs, Sakura spoke up next.

            “If that is true… Then why not set the limit to one?”

            “’Cause as far as mysteries go, ‘serial killer on the loose in the academy’ has a nice ring to it.” The bear giggled. “Yohohoho! One murder does not a serial killing make!”

            “Enough!” Togami barked. “You came here to give us something, did you not?”

            Monokuma rubbed the back of his head and blushed.

            “Yes, indeed~. Here’s the Monokuma File 2 to help you with your investigation! See you all at the trial! Good luuuck!” After distributing the latest file, the bear left as quickly as he had appeared.

            “… Fuck!” Mondo spoke the sentiment that was on practically everyone’s mind. None of them wanted to go through with this again, least of all Fujisaki, who was crying her heart out.

            “Before we decide what to do next, we should at least read the Monokuma File.” Kirigiri calmly addressed them all.

            Grudgingly or not, they all accepted that was a sensible first step to take. They couldn’t go around making assumptions and waste time looking into things that had nothing to do with the case. Again, there were lives on the line. And since no one was confessing, they couldn’t rely on the killer to give themselves away.

            ‘The victim was Aoi Asahina, the Ultimate Swimmer.’ Naegi read to himself as he held the Monokuma File so that he and Maizono could read it, as she was still clinging to him. ‘Time of death was approximately 2:30 a.m. Three spears punctured her heart, ribs, and lungs. Trace elements of a drug were found to be ingested. Bloody froth is in her airway, and water in her stomach. Death was not instantaneous.’

            Naegi couldn’t help narrowing his eyes. That was all the information Monokuma was giving them? They didn’t even have a clearly defined cause of death. Assumptions could be made, but those could prove to be dangerous if they strayed too far from the path. Was it really the spears that killed her? Could it have been the drugs? Hell, could she have drowned? Asahina was the Ultimate Swimmer, but that didn’t discount the possibility. If somebody was strong enough to submerge her long enough…

            No, Naegi didn’t want to think about that right now. Mondo and Sakura were the strongest people in their class, and he didn’t want to go suspecting anyone without solid evidence. Besides, Sakura was Asahina’s best friend in here. It was unthinkable that she’d kill the swimmer, even if it was over the secrets. Why did the killer target Asahina? That question bothered Naegi the most.

            “Shit…” Mondo cursed as he clenched his fist tightly. “That fucking bastard is digging himself a damn grave…! Just give me a name, and that friggin’ bear won’t have to arrange an execution…”

            “You can’t…!” Fujisaki exclaimed, tears pricking hat her eyes again. “If you do that, you’ll…!”

            Even if he still seemed pretty pissed, Mondo calmed down enough to not fly into a rage. Togami crossed his arms and frowned thoughtfully.

            “This ‘drug’ that was mentioned… I’m very curious how the killer came to obtain that. Did Monokuma supply them with that, along with the spears?”

            Nearly everyone stared blankly as Byakuya pointed that out. That was very true. Just where had the spears come from? Even if Monokuma himself hadn’t committed the murder, it was very suspicious that the killer had somehow gotten their hands on them. Monokuma had to have aided and abetted in this murder in some way; there just hadn’t been any dangerous weapons lying around in plain sight. The kitchen knives would’ve been the most dangerous accessible thing under normal circumstances, but spears?

            “While we don’t have the answer to that yet, I believe a search of the storeroom should be among our highest priorities.” Kirigiri mused as she ran a hand through her hair. “It’s doubtful the spears were there, but I would not be surprised if any sleeping drugs were found. Monokuma has shown that he is eager to give us the tools to commit murder, such as the toolkits and sewing kits in our rooms.”

            “A fair point,” Celes concurred. “Most might assume they were for any troubled sleepers, but mix them with food and drink, and you could incapacitate anyone. The Monokuma File says Asahina ingested the drugs, but that does not necessarily mean ‘willingly’ ingested.”

            Junko tilted her head.

            “Kinda suspicious you brought that up… You sure you didn’t kill her?”

            Naturally, the gambler was affronted by the mere suggestion.

            “Oh, yes… I would commit a murder in such a way that would get my face and clothes wet. And I am certainly strong enough to wield a spear. Very nicely deduced.” Celes’s smile was pleasant, but there was a dark, ominous aura about her, daring Junko to insinuate that again.

            “Maybe that’s not your style, but you were here when Naegs and I stumbled on the crime scene.” Leon pointed out with a frown and crossed arms.

            “Scarce minutes before you!” Celes ground out. “Monokuma woke me, same as the rest of you, and I decided to search the upper levels first!”

            Leon ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly.

            “Without checking in with everyone at the cafeteria…”

            “No, not everyone went to the cafeteria…” Naegi pointed out. “Only about half of us – or at least, by the time I woke up and got there…”

            Sakura crossed her arms and frowned.

            “In addition, it would make little sense to be the first to return to the scene of her own crime… She would have had no reason to, given that the murder was carried out at 2:30 – more than enough time to tamper with the scene.”

            “Anyway…” Kirigiri casually ran her hand through her hair. “The storeroom, the locker rooms, the kitchen, and Asahina’s room will be points of interest. Before pointing any fingers, we should conduct a thorough investigation of those areas.”

            “Why the locker rooms?” Byakuya asked curiously.

            “They are the areas immediately adjacent to the pool - maybe the killer concealed some evidence there. We have no way to know until we look.” Kirigiri reasonably pointed out. Togami snorted airily.

            “Fine. We will need someone competent to search the storeroom, so I will head that investigation.”

            Mondo cracked his knuckles and gnashed his teeth.

            “Like hell you’re going to search that place alone…!”

            Togami turned on the biker, bearing his teeth.

            “Are you going to get in my way, plankton…?”

            Before it could come to blows again, Ishimaru got between the heir and biker.

            “Don’t worry, Mondo… I… will assist Togami…” The hall monitor was clearly lacking his usual energy. And he would not meet Mondo’s gaze.

            “Bro… are you sure?” The biker looked stunned, for whatever reason. “If Togami snaps…”

            Togami looked offended by the mere suggestion, but Ishimaru shook his head firmly.

            “I… no one knows the storeroom better than me. I took stock of everything, when I investigated it the first time.” For a moment, the hall monitor regained his usual brand of energy. He pointed at Mondo with authority. “Besides, you need to look after the crime scene! You and Sakura performed excellently, the last time!”

            No one objected to that. They would still have enough people combing for clues, and the crime scene would be well-guarded. Mondo still had a complicated expression etched on his face, but he did not argue against it anymore.

            Celes sighed.

            “Then I will handle the cafeteria investigation. It will take me far away from here…” She looked around the pool with distaste.

            “Um, I’ll help!” Fujisaki volunteered. No one was really surprised; the programmer didn’t do too well, lingering at these crime scenes.

            “Then I will handle Miss Asahina’s bedroom~!” Yamada stood tall and proud… until Junko popped his bubble.

            “Yeeeah… no, ya creep. I’ll handle that room.”

            No one volunteered to help Junko; the victim’s room seemed like a lower priority room to check, in the grand scheme of things. It was more for the sake of checking, than anything else.

            “Guess me and tubs will check out the boys’ locker room.” Leon sighed. It’s not like they trusted him any more in the girls’ locker room. Pervert that he was.

            “Hmph!”

            “I… guess I’ll take the girls’ locker room…” Sayaka murmured as she looked off to the side. She’d detached herself from Naegi by this point, and the Luckster was frankly still worried about her. He had a feeling she was still torn up about keeping her secret from him, but Naegi wasn’t about to force her to talk unless she wanted to, or if it was for the sake of the investigation.

            Naegi helped it would never come to that, though.

            ~*~

            After everyone had dispersed, Naegi, Kirigiri, Mondo, and Sakura had all checked the area around the pool before having Sakura bring Asahina out of it. Of curious note, there was a light trail of water leading to the locker on the far end. And when they inspected it, they found the inside to be damp, but no sign of blood. From this, Kirigiri deduced the body was stored in that locker for a period of time; the reasoning was unclear, but it was hypothesized that the killer was attempting to obfuscate the murder. This was substantiated by the Monokuma File, which did not give a clear cause of death.

            They had no way to know if the killer cleaned up any blood left in the locker. It was still possible that the killer stabbed Asahina with a spear, removed it, stored her in the locker, and then removed her later to arrange the crime scene as they had found it. However, Kirigiri seemed more and more convinced of some theory she was forming in her head. What that theory was, was anyone’s guess.

            As for the rest of the area around the pool, it seemed relatively dry. The body was discovered on the locker rooms’ side of the pool, but any water that Asahina dripped onto the floor as the killer carried her could have dried up, or the killer could have wrapped her in a towel and carried her. The method for transport and reason for obfuscation were still unclear, so they moved on to examining the body itself… or at least, Sakura and Kirigiri did. Naegi took this opportunity to talk to Mondo.

            “Fuck… how did this happen…?” Mondo’s hand twitched. Naegi winced sympathetically and stared at the ground.

            “I know… Whose past was so dark that they killed someone over it?”

            Mondo just shook his head with a pained grimace.

            “Not that. Much as I hate it, I get they were fucking scared. They were a dumbass, but I get it.” The biker growled as he clenched his fist tightly. “I literally wanna know how this happened… Damnit, I was right here…! Next door!”

            Naegi blinked in shock as he looked back up at Mondo.

            “W-Wait…! You were here?!”

            Mondo rubbed the back of his head as he looked down.

            “Yeah… last night was shitty, all things considered. I couldn’t sleep, so I vented up here, lifting some weights. I ran into Fujisaki, too… We talked for a while, musta been around 3 when we got back downstairs… We didn’t see anyone else, and we had no clue anything was going on next door! Shit!” If there was a wall or something for him to punch, Mondo certainly would’ve done so. As it was, he just roared furiously and stomped the floor.

            Naegi was just thankful Mondo didn’t use him as a punching bag.

            “O-Okay, so… wait! This helps us a little!” The Luckster let out a startled yelp. Mondo looked at him in confusion.

            “How? I feel like we fucking failed Asahina…!”

            Naegi shook his head.

            “If you were talking to Fujisaki, and you guys weren’t at the pool, you must’ve been talking in that one front room! Right?”

            Mondo burst into sweat before nodding nervously.

            “Y-Yeah… We were…”

            “When would you say you ran into Fujisaki?” Naegi asked.

            “M-Must’ve been around 2…” Mondo answered, unsure. Naegi failed to notice the nervous tics Mondo was showing.

            “Okay, then if you guys didn’t notice anyone else, Asahina and her killer must’ve been in the pool before 2, and the killer only left after you guys did, around 3. It doesn’t tell us who did it yet, or why the killer waited until 2:30 to kill Asahina, but if we just look into what everybody was doing around that time…”

            Calming down somewhat, Mondo rubbed the back of his head and frowned.

            “Look, Naegi, while that’s admirable and all, I don’t think we’re going to find anyone like that. There’s that curfew thing we ‘agreed to’, and technically, Fujisaki and I broke it. So did Asahina and the bastard who killed her. But no one’s gonna own up to the fact they broke curfew… Let alone the spineless murderer…” The biker growled. Naegi shook his head.

            “With our lives on the line, I’m pretty sure people will be honest about what they were doing – except for the killer, of course. But even they might slip up, y’know?” The Luckster scratched his cheek sheepishly. “I mean… Leon and I were up, talking about our secrets and stuff, and we were up ‘til at least 1. We won’t hide that.”

            Mondo sagged his shoulders somewhat.

            “… Yeah, I guess this kind of shit gets people to be upfront… Or at least spit out any bullshit that makes sense, while still giving up the information they ‘know’. I don’t trust Togami one bit.”

            “You were pretty concerned about Ishimaru when he volunteered to investigate with him…” Naegi noted.

            Mondo winced and heaved a sigh.

            “Look, Naegi, I’m not gonna lie. I said some things to my brozum last night that I’m not proud of. He was just tryin’ to comfort me and shit, and I… I got pissed and blew him off. I wasn’t in the mood, but he was makin’ a damn effort for me anyway. How the hell can I make it up to him? I don’t wanna have all that bonding we did be for nothin’.”

            ‘You had a contest for one night, and you were buddies the next morning…’ Naegi deadpanned in his head while sweatdropping. Out loud, he said, “Just apologize, I guess… I mean, Ishimaru’s not the type to hold grudges, far as I know. He was sad his idea to share all our secrets was refused, but he wasn’t bitter.”

            “Maybe, but he wouldn’t even talk to me this morning!” Mondo sighed, cracking his neck. “I guess I’m just frustrated… I know I gotta control my temper, and I fucked up last night. Nearly fucked up twice…”

            “Twice?” Naegi cocked his head. Mondo got nervous again.

            “It was… It just had somethin’ to do with Fujisaki, alright? I promised the kid I wouldn’t say anything, and a man keeps his word. But… I still feel terrible. If the kid wasn’t so insistent that we forget about it and move on, I’d still be pretty fucking depressed right now. Just… y’know… Not because of the damn incentives.”

            Naegi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. So it was Fujisaki that helped Mondo back to his old self. Not a surprise, considering how the two were searching together this morning, but still. He’d have to ask the programmer her side of the story later, if she was willing to divulge it.

            ~*~

            Yamada and Leon hadn’t turned up anything in the boys’ locker room, so they were moving onto other areas. Naegi checked in on Sayaka, and wasn’t too surprised she found a blood-soaked towel shoved in one of the lockers. Reviewing what he’d found with Kirigiri and the others, he told Sayaka their theory that the body was transported in and out of the water. They still didn’t know what killed Asahina for sure, but what they did know, with the blood-soaked towel, was that the killer cleaned up the blood after skewering the swimmer with the spears. For what purpose, Naegi wasn’t sure yet, but he suspected it might’ve been because the bloodstain and conditions around it might’ve told them the order of events. Because if the ground was wet prior to the stabbings, then Asahina had likely drowned. This was substantiated by the fact the towel did feel a little wet still, and the fact that if Asahina were alive, being stabbed by the spears would’ve jarred her awake, even with sleeping drugs possibly in her system. The natural reaction Asahina would’ve given in that scenario would have been to scream, but Mondo and Chihiro hadn’t heard anything like that. And while that situation could have been avoided by stabbing Asahina in a vital place, like her heart, the Monokuma File said death was not instantaneous.

            That posed the question of why the killer stabbed the victim with the spears post-mortem, but if their theory was correct, and the killer was trying to obfuscate how Asahina died, then that was the answer. The only piece of evidence they could not alter was the Monokuma File, and even then, Monokuma had been kind enough to leave the cause of death out.

            Makoto had tried getting Sayaka to talk about her incentive, and what she was doing at the time of the murder, but all she was really able to offer was that she was sleeping in her room. She promised that’s what she was doing, and Naegi was willing to believe her. It did hurt that she wouldn’t open up about her incentive, but then, seldom few people were doing that. Sayaka did confess she absolutely didn’t want her secret getting out, because that would affect the reputation of her idol group; but since Naegi took her at her word that she was in her room sleeping, he firmly believed Maizono didn’t act on the motive. As tempting as it may have been for her.

            Getting nowhere else with the reticent pop idol, Naegi decided to head downstairs and check out the other areas. That was when he was accosted by the ever-annoying Monokuma.

            “Hey, hey! Naegi! You seen some ElectroIDs lyin’ around?” The bear tilted his head curiously.

            The Luckster stared at the monochrome bear strangely.

            “No? Why? Did someone lose theirs?”

            Monokuma rubbed the back of his head and blushed.

            “It’s not that~… You guys know the penalty for losing your ElectroIDs! I’m talking about Hagakure and Fukawa’s IDs. I left ‘em lying out in the open in the entrance hall, ‘cause I trusted you guys! And this is the thanks I get…” Monokuma hung his head and held his arms behind his back. “Wawawaaa… I’m so depressed! Stealing the IDs like that is sooo barbaric! Like bashing someone’s head in with a sledgehammer, and then carrying that same bloody sledgehammer everywhere you go with a neon sign strapped to your back! This is going to be such a boring trial… Boooringgg…”

            Naegi recoiled in shock before narrowing his eyes at the bear.

            “W-Wait just a second… The killer… stole those IDs? Wh-Why would they do that?”

            Monokuma pressed his stubby arms together and began to sweat.

            “Well, you didn’t hear this from me, ‘cause I so dooon’t have the mind of a killer~… But between you and me, I think they want to get caught! They’re playing the game and going through the motions, but they’re not trying everything they can to win it! And I just can’t tolerate such cowardly, despicable behavior~. They disrupted your peaceful society, so they should go all the way!” Monokuma turned his back to Naegi grumpily. “Try to ruin my fun, will they… Well, I’ll show them~.”

            Naegi didn’t know what to say. Monokuma was deliberately throwing them a bone here, and as far as the Luckster could tell, it didn’t benefit the mastermind in any way. What was his endgame here?

            “Why tell me this?” Naegi asked.

            The bear turned back around and tilted his head in confusion.

            “Hmm?”

            “Why tell me about the ElectroIDs?” Naegi rephrased his question. “I didn’t know about them, and I’m sure the others didn’t either, so… why say anything?”

            Monokuma appeared bashful.

            “Ah, well… Some of your pals had seen the IDs in the entrance hall, including our wishy-washy villain, but no one thought to look into them! Not that it would’ve made any difference, with the IDs bein’ stolen and all~.” Monokuma sighed dejectedly. “I’m just a bear of my word. I told that dumbass to make it a fun and interesting trial, or I’d reveal ‘that’! No respect. I get no respect.”

            “Y-You… You coerced someone into killing?!” Naegi couldn’t believe the Puppetmaster was being nonchalant about revealing this!

            Monokuma raised a clawed paw threateningly, red eye glinting.

            “Grrr! No, no, no! I knew I should’ve waited until you were with Togami or someone who would understand! The killer willingly took Asahina’s life, but their cowardly reason for doing it made them want to make the trial ‘easy’ for everyone! I want a bloodthirsty wolf for a villain, not a sacrificial lamb! But what else do I expect from a bastard who thoughtlessly attacks their headmaster?! They’re lucky their life was spared…

            That was when Naegi realized… the spears. That was how they got their hands on the spears.  

            “Now I’m reeeally angry!” Monokuma grumbled. He turned his back on Naegi grumpily. “Hmph! I heard talking to you was supposed to make people feel better, but I guess that doesn’t extend to bears. Whatever… This interview’s over!”

            Before Naegi could stop him, the monochrome bear took off.

            “… The killer… wants to be caught…?” Naegi stood there for several long moments and rubbed his chin. He just couldn’t make sense of it all. The killer obviously tampered with the crime scene; made it really difficult to determine how Asahina died and how the crime was carried out. And yet, stealing the IDs would be a smoking gun because Monokuma ratted them out… After a while, the Luckster shook his head. “No use in thinking about it. I bet it’s all going to come back to those incentives anyway…”

            With this in mind, Naegi ran off to find the others and talk to them.

            ~*~

            Time eventually ran out, and everyone was forced to head for the red doors again. Naegi… wasn’t exactly happy. They hadn’t found enough to make anyone a prime suspect, but there were clearly some suspicious people in their group. And one of the people who was going to be under fire was Maizono… If he wanted everyone to make it through this like the last time, he was going to have to defend her, even if he appeared suspicious in the process.

            Naegi wouldn’t, couldn’t believe that she killed Asahina. And he had a feeling it wasn’t Togami, either. Celes would be another potential suspect, as she found the body before he and Leon did. Naegi honestly didn’t want to doubt anyone – they were all forced into this unfavorable situation, and now they were going to condemn someone else to death.

            … Regardless of how that pained him, Naegi knew they weren’t doing this just for themselves – they were doing this for Asahina, too. A life that was snuffed out too soon. For her sake, they would need to bring the truth to light.  

[herokind]

✈ — an eye-opening memory

Your name is TAVROS NITRAM. You are FOUR (4) SWEEPS old.

You watch your only neighbor practice some ARENA STICKBALL in his ANTERIOR LAWNRING. His name is ALTRIA ELVETA, and he plays PUSHER for a Little League team. You wave hello at him, and he waves back. You don't talk at much -- no, not at all -- but this regular exchange is fine by you. It's just your regular Alternian evening, with the TWO (2) MOONS barely illuminating your hives. All is at peace.

You enjoy a GRUBSPICE HOT DRINK as Altria scores faux goal after faux goal, expertly hitting the ARRANGEMENT OF GARBAGE RECEPTACLES he designed himself. The noise is rather irritating, and you drown it out with yet another rerun of the FIDUSPAWN ANIME, but you find that you are not the only one bothered by the din.

> Blueblood: Enter.

It’s not often a troll of NOBLE CASTE enters these rural parts. Your neighborhood is a known LOWBLOOD AREA, and Altria himself is of BURGUNDY lineage. Still, you almost cannot believe your eyes, and you’re glued to the scene as if it’s on your Grubvision screen, stirring your drink at a slow, steady pace.

The mysterious highblood stops a few yards from Altria, staring rigidly, the slightest motion under their cloak.

???: 5HUT UP.ALTRIA: s()rry.

He arranges some RECUPERACOON SLEEVES in front of his setup, as apparently this is not the FIRST COMPLAINT he’s had, and cautiously watches the TROLL OF BLUE make their sluggish way down the HIVELINE. A few seconds pass, and Altria decides he’s ready to give the goal another shot –

THWACK!

Right into the blueblood’s head.

Altria’s MAKESHIFT CLOVER shouldn’t hurt, but that doesn’t matter.

Before you know it, there’s an arrow in Altria's skull.

You draw the blinds all fast, racing towards the SAFEST BLOCK in your hive. Breathe in – breathe out – breathe IN breathe OUT breathe IN breathe OUT, oh GOD. You can’t rub the visual stain of BURGUNDY BLOOD from your lookstubs, nor the piercing sound of a PIERCING SNIPE from your hearholes. Your BLOODPUSHER pounds relentlessly, catching up with your adrenaline, with the REALIZATION of your REALITY.

You are a normal troll. This is a normal day. You fed your Fiduspawn. You played some gamegrubs. You made yourself a hot drink. Like every day, as soon as you woke up, you went out to your ANTERIOR LAWNRING and practiced your JOUSTING.

Your name is Tavros Nitram. That could have very well been you. And it wouldn’t have mattered who.

[mythicamagic]

Diabolik Fairy Tales - Chapter 3

AU - The Diabolik Lovers re-imagined as fairy tale characters. Each chapter will feature a different diaboy, as their dark natures become entwined with the original macabre fairy tales of the past. Includes smut with a nameless heroine (slight reader insert)

Rated M                       (you can read all my fics here on fanfiction.net or Ao3)

Trailer for the fanfiction is here

Chapter 1 - Yuma Mukami                            Chapter 3 - Kanato Sakamaki

Chapter 2 - Shuu Sakamaki                          Chapter 4 - Ayato Sakamaki

Chapter 5 - Ruki Mukami                                Chapter 6 - Laito Sakamaki

Chapter 7 - Azusa Mukami                             Chapter 8 - Reiji Sakamaki    

Chapter 9 - Kou Mukami                             Chapter 10 - Subaru Sakamaki (end)

Lips Red as Blood~

The air hung heavy and stifling within the coffin. She could feel it's staleness even without inhaling.

A shadow fell over her closed eyelids. Most likely a cloud blocking out the sun. Sometimes a harsh sensation on her eyelids told her that sunlight was pouring onto the glass above her face, making her inwardly wince.

It had been such a long time since she'd last seen sunlight. Or anything for that matter. She could hear the muffled sounds of birds and wildlife, and pictured them scampering through the tall trees of the forest around her. She longed to move her limbs again, to stretch, to talk, to feel, but time had stretched on so long she was beginning to wonder if everything before was a dream. The last thing she remembered seeing was the trees stretching above her head as she was lowered into the glass case, before someone gently slid her lids shut.

That had been right after her stepmother's visit, of course.

She could still feel a piece of the apple lodged in the back of her throat.

Now the nothingness of her days comprised of listening to the woods around her, and waiting for the tell-tale shuffle of feet that signaled one of the dwarves. One of them usually stopped by, though their visits were becoming infrequent. When she'd first been placed in the coffin, all seven of them had cried. She'd been able to pick out each individual sob and put a name to it.

Yet, pure, sweet Snow White, had only herself to blame for their tears.

She remembered looking into her stepmothers eyes, seeing the rampant madness inside the old beggar woman's guise, and knowing she'd lost. Their game was ended, with the Queen emerging the victor.

She was so tired. Though she hadn't moved, the exhaustion was sewed into the fabric of her being. She wanted her consciousness to fade. Better that, than this endless darkness. Anything would be better than the state of purgatory she'd found herself in; Neither living nor dead, and perpetually unable to do either. All she'd ever wanted was to love and be loved, yet the world had seen fit to punish her for it.

A distant sound pulled at the edges of her consciousness. Strange, she thought. It had almost sounded like a horse.

More noises, all muffled from behind the glass caught her attention. Since they were growing louder, she thought they must be drawing closer.

There came a shout, and footsteps. If her heart were beating it would've leaped out of her chest. These people were not the dwarves.

Every part of her strained to hear more, and she could've cried the moment her glass tomb was opened-

"Your Highness! Careful!"

Someone chuckled lowly, closer than expected. Fresh air fanned her face, clean and clear.

"Beautiful…ne, Teddy, don't you think so?" A soft voice crooned.

"The body might be contaminated, my Prince. I beg you to leave it be-"

The woman's interest piqued. A Prince? Why would such a person open her coffin?

"Ah, look here at the inscription…'Snow White.' Fufu, what a funny name."

She heard a quiet murmur in the background, a few men whispering her name and mingling it with that of 'princess', 'dead' and 'curse.'

With a start, she felt something cool and soft cup her cheek. As it moved she realized it was a hand. A thumb gently traced her lips, back and forth. "Perfect…you'll make a perfect doll." He breathed in a dazed sort of way.

She didn't know what he meant, but the voice suddenly sharpened. "Teddy and I would like our new friend to come home with us. Please carry her." He addressed the others.

The woman wished she could see the expressions on their faces. Something must have passed between the assembled party unsaid, because the worried voice from before yielded. "O-of course. Would you like to keep her inside the coffin, Your Highness?"

"For now. Wouldn't want her to get spoiled during the journey…would we?"

"Understood, my Prince."

She heard more footsteps, and the sound of something closing over her head. For a moment she felt panicked, stifled under the glass lid again, but the voices and shuffle of feet assured her that it was temporary.

Her nerves leaped and rattled as she felt herself suddenly move. Men grunted as she was lifted higher, her head tilting forward lifelessly. Her feet were pushed up, and her body evened out, head hitting the pillow once more.

And then she was moving. She could feel the slight rise and fall of the men's footsteps as they strained under the weight of the coffin. The Prince barked orders, and she heard the trot of a horse near-by.

This continued for some time. The men underneath the coffin panted harshly, and she was aware of a slight dip towards the front end, where her feet were.

The sound of the footsteps eventually changed, as it became apparent they were walking on stone, instead of forest ground. She strained her senses, hearing many distant voices and the constant sound of the horse trotting beside her. There was a change in the air, and then the sounds became somewhat echoed, as if she'd been carried inside.

When they finally stopped, she was lowered to the ground once more.

"Thank you. All of you can go now."

There were no complaints as the men shuffled out, and what sounded like a door clicked shut behind them.

Everything was plunged into silence. She tensely waited, thankful for once, that the glass separated her from the unknown. Soft footfalls caught her attention, and an airy laugh caused her to inwardly shrink back.

"It's not often we get a Princess for a doll."

The glass was suddenly lifted up, and cool air settled on her skin once more, before hands clamped onto her shoulders. One of them slid behind her head, while the other supported her back, lifting her up with surprising strength. With some awkward maneuvering, she was pulled out of the coffin, her legs slipping over the sides lifelessly. The prince behind her dragged her back, his body warm. She felt a dazed sort of terror and uncertainty when she felt the press of his nose in her hair, inhaling. With a yank, he pushed her down onto what she found to be a plush chair. It had a high back, which her head rested against. The prince grabbed her wrists and put them on the arm rests.

"There." He said, not a bit out of breath. "Oh, almost forgot." His cool fingers were suddenly on her cheeks, touching her lashes. He slowly pried them open, and her heart burst with gratitude.

At first, everything was blurry, a blend of colors all running into one. Slowly though, shapes took form, and as the mist cleared, she became aware of two eyes, staring into hers. Were it possible, she would have yelped. Dazed eyes blinked, and the face drew back, revealing that of a very young looking man with lavender hair. He grinned, picking up a teddy bear and squeezing it in his arms.

"Pleased to meet you." His pale hand picked up the bears arm. "This is Teddy," he then rested his cheek against it's head, tilting his chin to look at her. "And I'm Kanato Sakamaki."

To her surprise, her lids remained open, and felt no dryness in her eyes, despite being unable to blink.

"I don't really like lying, in fact it displeases me greatly, so I'll spell everything out now. That way I won't hear any complaints later, right?" Kanato laughed, as if sharing a private joke. He bent close to her face once more, cupping her cheek, before sliding his fingers into her hair.

"You'll be my doll from now on." He whispered, running his fingers through her locks and tangling them. W-what? She tried to shrink back, but of course this was impossible. What does he mean, his doll?

"You're warmer than the others. Ne, Teddy? I remember hearing something about sleeping curses, do you think that's what's happened here?" He gave her an assessing look, and for some reason though she couldn't move, she instinctively held herself still. His eyes were wide, vacant. There were dark circles beneath them, most likely due to lack of sleep, which added to the fragility of his features. Yet an unsettling intensity within them held her rigidly on edge.

"Oh well, it's not like it matters. You can't speak, so you won't annoy me. You can't move so you won't betray me. Really this is a win-win situation for you…my only regret is that you can't show me your pain." He sighed, as if truly saddened, and stepped away.

"Although…your eyes are somewhat obstinate." He muttered, before seemingly forgetting she even existed and abruptly turning, wandering from the room.

Just as she began to relax, he popped his head through the doorway and smiled. "I'll be back later, little doll."

And then the door slid shut, plunging her into darkness once more.

Her first thought was of escape. This of course was impossible, and she berated herself for even thinking it.

From what Prince Kanato had said though, her disability might actually be her advantage. The only problem was how he intended to treat her.

She'd used to play with dolls when she was young, and remembered putting them in pretty dresses and brushing their hair, playing house. But then she could also remember handling them roughly, throwing them on the ground, gripping them tight and slamming them onto surfaces.

Dread pooled in her stomach. What was he going to do with her?

She was nothing more than a toy now. As such, he wouldn't care whether she broke or not. And with no way to guard against him, she could do nothing but grin and bear it. There was no other choice.

She snapped to attention when the door creaked open. Since she could only stare straight ahead of her, it was difficult to see all of the room she was being held in. But in the light, and with peripheral vision, she was able to see toys, stuffed animals and building blocks, all strewn around the room.

Kanato wandered in, Teddy in his arms.

"Good morning, little doll. What game should we play first?"

The prince stepped out of her vision for a moment. Hearing something like wheels moving over a marble surface, she puzzled over the sight of a wheelchair. Kanato smiled and stepped up close to her, taking her in his arms and sitting her down as if she were a rag doll. The wheelchair squeaked as he pulled her back, wheeling her to a nearby vanity table.

She waited stiffly as his fingers lightly brushed through her tresses. Teddy was placed off to the side before her, and Kanato's gaze locked with hers in the mirror.

"Your eyes look like they're screaming. Are you scared of me, little doll?" Kanato tilted his head, considering. She could've flinched when he reached past her for a hairbrush. His hands were cold and felt like ice against her skin as he moved her head this way and that, brushing her hair softly.

"Please don't go making assumptions. I'll spell it out for you, so that your empty head might comprehend it; You're my doll now, so I'll treat you as I wish. Teddy agrees that I take good care of him and the others."

She wondered what he meant by the others.

The fear within her slowly seeped out of her bones with every gentle stroke. Eventually she was lulled into a dreamy sense of peace and quiet, barely noticing as he set down the brush. When he reached for the scissors however, her stomach twisted, and her heart lurched.

"Ne...you do listen when people talk, don't you?" His quiet, airy voice dropped into a hushed, flat whisper. She was spun around in the chair so that she faced him, and was left staring into the bleak depths of his eyes.

"I told you not to make assumptions. And yet your eyes are growing scared again. I haven't given you a reason to be afraid of me. So why?" He suddenly gripped her shoulder tightly to keep her in place, though she couldn't move an inch. The scissors in his hand opened and closed with a soft snip as they hovered close to her eyes.

"Be a good doll and trust me implicitly. Otherwise I'll get irritated...and then I'll give you a reason to be afraid." The sharp blades close to her eyes moved forward, barely a hair's breadth from her pupils before moving up and snipping some of the hair framing her face. He then continued, trimming the ends of her hair lightly and without comment. She noticed that he seemed to absorb himself in the task, only stopping every now and then, his lavender eyes roving over her face.

It slowly dawned on her that she hadn't had someone pay such attention to her in a long time. After years of servitude under her stepmother, being ignored, shunned from social gatherings despite her status, the prince's attention felt strange, frightening, and yet...not entirely unwelcome.

A sudden intrusion caused Kanato to jump, the scissors slipping in his grasp, nicking her skin. It instantly stung, and she felt a wetness bead on her forehead. Kanatos eyes went wide, unseeing as he stared at her, his body shaking.

The doors that had been flung open were pushed wider by a maid, who wheeled in a food cart full of sweets. She was humming a cheery tune, and smiled when she saw Kanato. "Good morning prince Kanato! I hope I didn't disturb you~ oh!" She exclaimed as she narrowly avoided dropping a cup.

The maid continued to prattle on, introducing herself and saying that she was so happy to have gained a job within the castle. From her position though, the princess could only see Kanato, who by now was trembling violently, his head bowed forward.

"...Who sent you to me?" His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

"Eh?" The maid glanced up from the dishes she'd set on the table.

Kanato turned and looked at her, his thin frame quaking. "Which one of my brothers thought it would be funny to send you here? You're not my usual butler."

By now the maid seemed a little intimidated, her heel drew back. "O-oh? I don't know what you-"

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO MY DOLL!" Kanato exploded, jabbing a finger in her direction. She felt surprised that it even mattered to him what happened to her, but worried for the maid inching away. The air around the prince cracked with palpable rage.

The maid held up her hands in a placating manner. "M-my prince I didn't meant to-"

Kanato seemed to snap. The trembling suddenly ceased, and before she knew what was happening, he was stalking across the room.

"AH!"

The princess couldn't see any more, because the two disappeared from sight and thudded onto the floor. She heard the sound of struggling, and plaintive, panicked cries.

"Hm? This kiss mark...heh now I see, you're one of Ayato's play things. Well if he sent you here to mess with me, then by all means...I'll answer him." Came a low voice, one she barely recognized as Kanatos.

"No! No please!"

"You hurt my new doll, she has a gash on her forehead now. I won't forgive you. I'll never forgive you! Hey, lets give you one too, a matching scar."

There was a dull thud, followed by piercing screams. The princess could only sit numbly in her chair.

"Ahahahaha!" A high pitched voice giggled manically, the sound bouncing wildly off the walls of the room and curdling the blood lying dormant in her veins.

"Please don't struggle, it'll only make things more painful, and you do need punishment."

There was another thud, followed by chocked, high screaming.

Kanato's voice was like a melody, falling low and flat once more after laughing for so long. "Ne, endure it properly. My little doll sits there quietly, why cant you do the same?"

The expected sound of another sharp thud never came. There was only the soft cries and sobs of the maid.

Silence reigned, before a sigh. "...I'm bored now. Your reactions are terribly loud."

Panicked limbs scuffled, moving quickly, before the maid reappeared in sight and scrambled to the door. Her forehead was bleeding as she pressed a hand against her face. Kanato stood up, setting a bloodied fork on the table.

The princess fought not to let any of the horror she was feeling melt into her expression, lest her eyes show her true feelings. Kanato padded towards her, voice light and pleasant.

"Now don't get arrogant just because I got upset over you. Its only because you happen to be mine that I care, but you're nothing close to Teddy's level."

He stopped before her, and tilted his head, body moving awkwardly as if he himself were a doll. "Hmm...does your head hurt? Poor thing."

He bent close and stroked her hair away from her face, lifting it out of the way so that his lips pressed against the cut. Pain flared, digging in and stinging even as he kissed her gently. When he drew back, he smiled contentedly, eyes vacant and misted over once more. "Fufu, is that better? Don't worry, I won't let anyone else but me break you."

The princess became used to waiting stiffly all night for the prince to return. She noticed that he didn't sleep in his room, and thought that perhaps he had other quarters elsewhere. Yet when he padded through the doors at sunrise, the shadows under his eyes had grown darker, and the only conclusion was that he rarely slept.

Kanato's lips turned up at the sight of her, and he stepped aside as two servants entered the room with what looked like a wooden stand. It was reminiscent of something a puppeteer would use to rest their puppets on.

"Thank you." Kanato said politely to the servants, once they'd finished putting it in place.

The servants quickly bowed their heads and left. The princess watched them leave, before turning her attention to the prince, who had opened a nearby wardrobe. "Ne...what do you think of this one, Teddy?" He was asking, obvious love and affection dripping from his voice.

It was a tone solely reserved for Teddy. She wondered why he loved the stuffed bear so much, and yet seemed to barely tolerate anyone else.

'You can't speak, so you won't annoy me. You can't move so you won't betray me.'

"Hey!"

His sharp, angry tone broke her out of her thoughts. Kanato was right in front of her, holding a dress in his pale hands. "I can tell you weren't paying attention to me. Please don't think about something else while I'm here, it's quite rude."

She did her very best to appear apologetic, though this was impossible in her current state. Kanato seemed somewhat mollified though.

"Well, never-mind. Here, Teddy and I picked out a dress for you. It should be easier to change into it if I place you on the stand, so up we go." He grabbed her close without warning, a few of his lavender locks tickling her cheek. He lifted her up, placing her so that the wooden stand supported her underneath her arms and lower back. There was a head rest for her to lean against, and once more she was struck by his attentiveness.

"I don't like that dress you're wearing, so I'll get rid of it now." He picked up a knife, and she followed it's path wearily, inwardly starting when he pressed it against her thigh.

His misted eyes widened. A grin split his face, elated. "Heh, I can see it, the light in your eyes."

Long fingers from his other hand slid down, grabbing her skirts and lifting them up to reveal her legs. Kanato then ran the metal of the blade up her sensitive flesh without pressing down, briefly touching the sensitive spot between her legs.

The princess felt a sick terror seize her, and Kanato smiled. The knife lashed up suddenly, slicing the material from her legs and letting it flutter to the floor. Her frozen heart pulsed, fluttering and dying down with relief as the blade got to work on shedding her dress. Better that than the foreign feeling that had gripped her in wake of Kanato's smile and touch.

When there was nothing but torn rags clinging to her body, Kanato dropped the knife and slid her arms free of her once fine clothes. He then grabbed the new dress, utterly unruffled by her nakedness.

It took some time, but Kanato seemed to be enjoying himself as he put her in the dress. His fingers were lithe and swift as they tied up the laces on her back, adjusting the seems around her stomach and tucking the material in, neat and tidy. Lastly, he shimmied stockings up her legs, his head disappearing under her skirt for a moment. She started at this, and would've blushed if she could.

His breath fanned against her inner thighs as he pulled the thin material up, and then further still, until it rested over her hips. His cold hands smoothed down her legs, passing dangerously close to her core.

Kanato giggled before appearing from under her skirt, standing once more and inspecting her. "Hehe, you look rather cute."

She didn't know how, but the memory of the violence that had shaken her so deeply dissipated somewhat from those words alone. Kanato was looking at her as if he was truly happy. The princess inwardly smiled shyly.

He held up a mirror for her, and she barely recognized the woman standing before her in such finery. It had been so long since she'd worn clothes of actual standing. But the thing she found herself cherishing was the plaster with a teddy-bear print that Kanato had stuck to her forehead a few days before.

"You're eyes are glistening. Women really are simple-minded aren't they?" Kanato sighed. He stepped close to her, tilting her chin so that her eyes stared directly into his.

"Just because you're a worm whose been granted my attention, don't go thinking you can receive all this for free. I've pleasured you with frivolity, so now give me something. I want to see if it works..."

His breath dusted across her lips, before he kissed her.

She couldn't move, couldn't respond, so of course she was utterly motionless as he pressed against her. The princess' mind was awash with shock, but unable to do anything, she had no choice but to feel his lips as they parted on hers. She jumped as his tongue flicked out and ran over her bottom lip, briefly sucking it into his mouth and biting down.

Her lip ached, the pain grew into a dull sting under his teeth, before the prince drew back. He searched her eyes quickly, wide gaze flitting about her face. But after a few minutes went by, he sighed loudly, pouting. "How boring."

Kanato then spun on his heel, picking Teddy up and walking away without a backwards glance. The doors slid shut with a heavy thud that vibrated through the entire room, echoing off the walls long after he'd gone. Unbeknownst to the prince, his doll remained motionless, save for the lashes that lowered, and then rose, in a single blink.

Fear laced her limbs, making her tremble slightly.

Mobility was coming back into her body.

It should've been cause for celebration, but after what had happened with the maid, she was reluctant to be thankful for it. Kanato loved her as a doll. He'd been happy, tending and playing with her because she couldn't move or speak. But this change threatened everything.

Her main fear was Kanato's reaction, and most likely, his disdain. He rejected everything that wasn't Teddy, or something soulless like toys.

And yet...why had he kissed her if he'd wanted her to remain a doll?

He'd seemed disappointed when the curse hadn't instantly broken. She wasn't entirely sure how or why it had, yet the proof of it was in her flexing fingers.

She tensed, awaiting another turn in his capricious moods as he entered the room.

"Lets go outside today." He announced randomly, grabbing her without a second thought.

A few minutes later, and the princess inwardly gasped as the evening breeze caressed her cheeks. Kanato murmured that he disliked the sun, and that he'd stayed inside all day, awaiting the dusk and shadows it brought.

Her wheelchair made a slight squeaking sound with every turn of the wheels, but her companion paid it no mind as he pushed her from behind. He said nothing as they passed though large, open hallways, and she took note of the guards that avoided eye-contact. Kanato stopped and turned her, eventually heading out onto a wide balcony.

From her position, she could hear idle chatter from somewhere below them, and as Kanato pushed the wheelchair forward, she was able to make out some form of movement over the side of the railing. There was the clink of porcelain cups, and hearty laughs, the likes of which she knew to be nobility. Kanato didn't allow her to see them, and sat himself on the railing of the balcony.

"Ah...I see, the nobles are here. See Teddy? I told you they'd leave me out." He peered over the side, uncaring of his precarious position. His vacant eyes slid back to her. "A few of my brothers are down there. They always avoid me. Well, it's not like I care..." His face was unreadable.

She wanted to speak, to reassure him, but a nearby laugh startled her.

"No need to be a peeping-tom, Kanato. Why not join us?" A sinuous voice twisted her stomach into knots, and light footsteps alerted her to the newcomers presence drawing closer.

"Ayato better not be there. His ridiculous maid upset me greatly the other day." Kanato growled, his grip on Teddy tightening.

The man chuckled lowly. "Fufu, so I heard, the poor girl." He sighed in a way that confused her, as if pleased by the thought of her pain. "Come, you can entertain us. Be sure to being your...guest along too."

Kanato's eyes widened, and then fell to her, before nodding slowly. "Mm, alright. So long as they don't touch or talk to her."

The guests stared at her from behind their wine glasses. Narrowed gazes filled with distaste and fright. Beautiful courtesan's painted lips, so full and red, were turned down grimly. Only Kanato's presence kept them silent, but a tall gentleman who'd slipped in among the dining guests earlier was watching her with open contempt.

She fought not to blink or react. Her eyes were becoming dry and painful.

The gentleman eventually rose from his seat with a sigh and signaled Kanato to follow him. Her companion grumbled under his breath, pulling her back with him and wheeling her over to a corner where the man was waiting for them. He looked briefly mortified as he stared down at her in the wheelchair.

"Kanato. What have I said about bringing your dolls to dinner?" He finally spoke, pushing up the rim of his glasses and sneering.

"Hm? She's no trouble though. I like having her here."

"This is not a tea party where you can act as you please. I must insist you take it back to your room."

Something heavy laced the air, and she could sense Kanato tense behind her. "I don't want to! She's my guest!" He snarled.

"You have Teddy as your guest." The man explained calmly. Kanato fell silent, considering this. The woman thought to herself that this man must have known Kanato for a long time. "The Kingdom has turned a blind eye to your hobby for years, but stealing the body of a former princess has stirred gossip and rumor. Word has spread further than you realize. The Queen from a neighboring kingdom claims that this girl is her stepdaughter."

Kanato scoffed. "Why should I care about that?"

"She is coming to visit and no doubt wants to investigate the rumors circulating about you and your doll. From what I gather, she wants the body of her stepdaughter properly cremated, not paraded around in public."

A dull thrum of panic shuddered through her. Her stepmother was coming, and wanted to finish what she'd started by burning her alive. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She realized she was shaking, but noticed the shuddering was coming from somewhere behind her. It was Kanato's hands wrapped around the handles of the wheelchair.

"If she lays…one finger on my doll…." He was muttering under his breath. The gentleman before them remained impassive, even as Kanato suddenly shrieked. "I'LL KILL HER!"

This plunged the guests behind them into silence. They were no doubt staring.

"That could potentially start a war." The man sighed deeply, his eyes narrowing. "If you just got rid of this doll then-"

"No! She's mine to do with as I please! You just want her for yourself, don't you Reiji?"

She couldn't see him, but she imagined that Kanato's pupils were shaking in that way they often did when he was upset. He was breathing heavily, sucking in sharp gulps of air through his teeth.

"Don't be absurd." Reiji sighed again, crossing his arms and leveling him with a begrudging look. "If you feel so strongly about it, then hide it away somewhere until the Queen's visit has ended. If your doll is found then we won't make excuses for you. She will be destroyed."

With that said, the elder man turned away and walked back to the dinner party, which became lively once more. Kanato breathed raggedly, and she could hear him sniffing, fighting tears. The wheel chair continued to shake.

Change was unpredictable, and Kanato was right to fear it. It was apparent in his child-like stasis that he hated anything that didn't fit into his perception of the world. The princess found that she too, was afraid of it now. How nice it had been, to have been wanted by someone, even for a little while, no matter how twisted the attention. She'd been starved of it for so long that anything felt wonderful.

Her fingers at her side twitched as the doors opened. There would be no more pretend. She couldn't hide her reactions anymore. She steadied herself, and accepted her fate, no matter what lay before her.

"Morning, little doll." Kanato greeted, voice thick.

The princess was surprised to find that he was rubbing his eye. He glared tiredly at the bed, and sighed. "I don't want to sleep, but I can feel it coming for me."

He suddenly grabbed her shoulder, roughly yanking her out of the stand. "Come sleep in my bed. I usually dislike people touching me, but your scent isn't that bad. Teddy, you don't mind sharing, do you?"

Kanato didn't wait for a silent response from the bear. He dragged her dead weight onto the bed, flopping onto it beside her. His fingers curled in her hair as his small body seemed to fold in on itself, as if bracing for something. Teddy acted as a buffer between them, their bodies barely touching, but she felt Kanato's nose touch her head, taking in her scent, before burying his face in her hair. His shoulders trembled, before his breaths evened out.

She lay stiffly for awhile, before relaxing against him. When she felt that he was deep into slumber, she shifted, looking at his face. His features were unguarded, but pinched, as if worried even in sleep. His hands had drawn into tight fists, tucked close against his chest, knees drawn up. Her eyes gentled as she watched him, wanting to bridge the gap between them, and yet lacking anything she could say or do to soothe him.

Instead, she could only do as she'd always done, and watched helplessly as nightmares claimed him.

Powerless...

Powerless had once meant good. The princess' in her storybooks never needed to do anything, they'd simply been rescued by the prince and then lived an idyllic life. She raised her head, pushing herself upright and sitting back on her heels.

It felt strange to move again.

She knew her stepmother would come for her. The Queen wouldn't rest until she was dead, for good this time. So she had a choice. To stay with Kanato, and let fate take it's course just as she'd always done, or run.

His whimper caught her attention.

She looked down at Kanato, and felt compassion blossom within her chest. Her legs lay numb and still.

Instead of moving away, she reached out, putting her hand on his trembling shoulder.

The princess decided that it didn't matter what came next. She'd found her prince like she'd always hoped, and would now live her paradise, even if it wasn't what she'd first wanted. So when Kanato's eyes flew open and he nearly struck her in a rage, she didn't flinch or cry like she thought she would. His expression melted into confusion, before he seemed to click.

"Oh...the curse broke?"

"Yes."

"...You're going to leave me now, aren't you?"

"No."

With a thoughtless action, Teddy was pushed aside. The princess lay still as Kanato held her from behind, crushing her against him with white rimmed knuckles.

The warmth against her back moved slightly as his arms tightened their hold around her waist. Surrendering to his embrace, she melted back into his body, letting him draw her close earning a soft hum of approval as he sighed, as if still in a dream. Lithe fingers started to trace lazy patterns on her stomach. She let out the softest of sighs, but tensed when she felt something hard against her lower back. Kanato's soft lips against her neck smirked, pressing teeth down just as he ground his erection against the softness of her rear.

Her cries were met with muffled laughter.

Yet with every harsh touch, a sigh followed. She felt like nothing more than an instrument in his hands, something to be strung and tightened, but soulless. He parted her clothes enough to access desired, forbidden spaces, but left her mostly clothed, uninterested in learning all of her yet. Obediently she arched her back for him.

Kanato pressed open mouthed kisses against her neck, spreading her legs as he rocked his length against her soft skin. The scalding heat of his hard flesh traced along her sensitive sex before nestling against her wet entrance. His warm breath tickled the back of her neck while he penetrated her body, sinking in to the hilt in one tight thrust.

"Ahh..." His pleasured moan shocked her.

The sound was unabashed and lust-filled, unlike anything she'd ever heard. His fingers cupped her breast, and squeezed her hard nipple painfully as his other hand slid up to her neck. He pulled her firmly back onto him, starting a slow, lazy rhythm. The woman couldn't help the moan of pleasure that escaped her and his hips bucked into her in response.

"Tell me who you belong to." He purred into her ear, slowly tracing a circle around her tightened nipple with a sharp nail, causing her breath to hitch.

"Y- ah! Y-you."

"Say it properly." His next thrust was rough and deep as if to emphasize his words. A yelp was torn from her lips at the intense sensation of fullness his movements brought her. The gentle rhythm he had set before was instantly abandoned for a more demanding pace that left her breathless and dizzy. The sounds of their joined bodies moving deafened her senses.

The fingers wrapped around her neck suddenly tightened, crushing her throat under his thumb. She chocked and arched against him as he bucked into her erratically. "Tell me, or I'll assume you're a liar like everyone else." His voice was hot and breathy in her ear as his hot tongue traced its curve.

A sharp, burning wave of pleasure suddenly washed over her as skilled fingers played tenderly over her sensitive pearl. He teased the bundle of nerves drawing a small gasping, strangled cry from her lips as he was unrelenting in his grip and thrusts.

"K-kanato, I-I'm yours!" She clenched her eyes shut as his movements stirred a liquid fire deep in her core. She whimpered trying to escape the searing heat of him impaling deep inside her yet, at the same time, seeking more of the delicious ecstasy. His fingers clenched harder around her neck.

She could barely breathe; every fiber of her being was alight with the heat that he ignited in her veins. It was so hard to focus as his tongue continued to move over her skin, making it slick with saliva as he ground his pulsing erection inside her.

His nails dug into her throat. "Promise that you'll never leave me." He panted.

Her inner walls quivered around him as she neared her peek. She tossed her head and screamed her pleasure as the heat deep in her core exploded, sending waves of liquid fire burning through her veins. Her body arched and jolted in spasms. All she could do was cling to the sheets desperately as the world disappeared in a hot white flare of rapture. Kanato soon followed, his body entwined with hers, grip tightening around her neck until he released inside her.

Amidst the pleasured cries, her promise was lost.

The wedding had proceeded smoothly and without incident. Not a single guest had given the bride a second glance however, their silence speaking volumes without having to utter a word. Kanato didn't see anything wrong with the celebration. It'd been perfect. There had only been a minor hitch a few days prior, but he hadn't let it spoil his mood.

"Now, you're going to dance for us until my wife says to stop. Understand?"

A delicious feast had been laid out in the great hall. Tight lipped guests of the wedding reception watched with dazed attention as the captive Queen from another kingdom sagged in chains. She stumbled into the middle of the room, as if she were the night's entertainment.

The Queen trembled. She couldn't possibly escape. Blazing hot iron, molded into a pair of shoes, lay sizzling at her feet. Her gaze snapped to her stepdaughter, and a breathy, nervous laugh escaped her.

"Y-you must be joking-"

"Are you back-talking me? That's not a very smart thing to do in your position." Kanato's gaze slid to the guard at the Queen's side. An iron poker spitting with heat was brandished in front of her terrified eyes. It's light bathed her bruised and dirty skin in a sickly orange glow.

The Queen kept her wide, disbelieving eyes on the figure she knew to be Snow White. "T-this is preposterous! You're all insane! Don't you see that she's-" Grim faced guards holding her up suddenly lowered her into the iron shoes. They enclosed around her feet in an instant, searing them with a pain that felt like a thousand needles pricking her skin.

She screamed.

Her cries echoed around the room, soon joined by manic, uncontrolled laughter. Kanato fought for breath as he watched the pitiful display, tears pricking his eyes until they burst free and ran down his face. The crushing weight in his chest squeezed tighter, though he couldn't understand why. Funny, since the deranged Queen had attacked his wife a few days ago, he'd felt the quivering in his heart flare up like an infected wound. It festered within his body, and he cradled the feeling close, lips twisting up.

The Queen began to dance weakly, agonized shrieks escaping her. When she keeled over in agony, Kanato stood up in a flash, teeth bared.

"No one told you to stop!" He snarled.

A guard immediately pressed the hot iron poker against her side. More screams rang out. Iron clanked harshly against the stone floor as her body moved, as if possessed. Her eyes continually sought the woman beside the Prince, but only an empty gaze stared back.

The Queen wailed, her body thrashing against the burning pain flaring up her feet to her legs. Charred flesh began to break off. "N-no- NOOOOOO!"

Another hiss of hot iron burning against flesh bid her to move. A strangled noise emitted deep within her throat, pitching her screams into a macabre serenade.

Kanato sat back, pleased. He turned to the woman next to him and smiled, picking her up gently and sliding her onto his lap. He was blind to everything save for the ruby red lipstick that painted her frozen lips.

"Ne, aren't you happy, my love?"

His wife didn't hear him. Her lifeless gaze was on the forgotten teddy bear, lying face-down on the floor.

[recentnews18-blog]

New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/a-returning-steve-carell-helms-a-sluggish-saturday-night-live/

A returning Steve Carell helms a sluggish Saturday Night Live

Steve CarellScreenshot: Saturday Night Live

“Our lives are short and love is rare, now we do the turkey dance.”

“I’m not an actor, I’m a [comedy, drama, now comedy again?] star!”

The big news that all the kids will be buzzing about is that rumored reboot of The Office that some people apparently really want and tonight’s host Steve Carell says wouldn’t work anyway, for some reasons having to do with “today’s climate.” In his opening monologue, Carell got the old “unexpected questions from the audience” treatment, as former The Office-mates Ellie Kemper, Ed Helms, and Jenna Fischer all stood up to urge their former TV boss to sign on so they can get paid, already. (Kenan wants it, too, responding to Carell asking if he’s Kenan or a “fake audience member” by telling Carell, “If I was acting, you would know.”) That was pretty much the only laugh in the bit, as Carell played straight man to the same-y jokes about how he’s being a dick (Fischer’s words), and how his actual wife and kids don’t really need him around as much as he thinks. He did tease the audience by inviting his Office pals up on stage to guarantee . . . that it would be a great show. (It wasn’t.)

The other joke hammered all week has been how Steve Carell is a big drama guy now, something the show didn’t so much refute as remind viewers of how funny Steve Carell would have been if he were given any decent sketches to act in. Woof, this was a congested wheeze of an episode, packed with sketch after sketch of unimaginative premises, indifferently executed. And that goes for Carell, too, frankly, who seemed listless and uncommitted most of the time. A couple of musical sketches offered him the chance to really belt out some silly material with the confident abandon he’s justifiably renowned for, but, in each, he matched the dullness of the writing in performance. In his third time hosting, Carell and SNL both seemed to be just running out the clock in what was the most deeply disappointing episode of a very uneven season so far.

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Saturday Night LiveSeason 44

Weekend Update update

After last week’s news-grabbing, feel-good official apology for a nothing joke (to a newly elected congressman with some seriously questionable views himself), it’s like SNL decided to play defense this week. Or maybe play dead, hoping for the national, not-at-all-manufactured outrage cycle to die down through the upcoming off week. Che and Jost sped past some fairly innocuous political material (Che’s references to the brazen spree of criminal Republican voter suppression tactics aside) in favor of some lame Amazaon jokes. Jost mocking New Yorkers’ complaints about the new Queens Amazon HQ for bringing “25,000 jobs” takes the laziest laugh line from what is a complicated issue, something SNL has long been prone to, but that Jost and Che have occasionally risen above. This, coupled with the other big Amazon piece tonight (see below) smacks of the sort of corporate coziness that just makes SNL look bad, especially with the big news story of Amazon’s move taking place in the show’s backyard, and the attendant controversies.

Tossing to the big post-election satirical landscape, SNL scanned the trees and brought back—Bigfoot porn. The fact that newly elected Republican Congressman Denver Riggleman apparently is way into Bigfoot-themed erotica has predictably dominated media coverage of his campaign. And, sure, that’s some funny stuff right there. But he’s also been allegedly associated with some avowed white supremacists, which is both less funny and more relevant, satirically speaking. So trotting out Mikey Day to portray Riggleman nearly talking himself off to his own Sasquatch porn with some relatively graphic supposed excerpts and even more disturbing grunting noises is picking the lowest-hanging fruit of a satirical target and heavy-breathing on it. Again, if SNL is going to choose to do politics, then it’s going to be judged (by me, at least) on the choices it makes in how to approach the jokes. There are a myriad premises to be plucked from the recent midterm elections. That this was the best they got this week is embarrassing.

Kenan came on again as overbearing and hyperbolic NBA dad LaVar Ball, which is always pleasantly silly. Here, Kenan’s Ball maintained his self-promoting, reality-averse egomania, even as he slipped in the fact that Lakers star LeBron James supposedly has a restraining order against him (They have brunch, “always a respectable 500 feet away” from each other), and bragging about his younger sons’ dad-financed Latvian b-ball careers. (They feast on “the briniest cabbage this side of Bucharest!”) I love Kenan, and this is the sort of thing he’s wonderful at.

Best/worst sketch of the night

On a night like tonight, it’s a matter of picking out kernels (or “cornels”) of ideas or performances than whole decent sketches, of which none were in evidence. In what was a mostly disastrous ten-to-one (but one) sketch, astronauts having space Thanksgiving with their alien hosts ate screaming purple corn (or “kern”) on the cob. Complete with dropped props, a failed chroma key effect, Pete Davidson’s sped-up corn screams, flubbed lines, and either unwritten or abandoned ending, the debacle played like something infamously intransigent SNL legend Michael O’Donoghue might have written during his ill-fated 1981 head writing stint under Lorne Michaels’ replacement producer Dick Ebersol, when the show was alternately a vehicle for the notoriously uncompromising Mr. Mike’s bizarro visions or his legitimate attempt to turn the floundering post-Lorne enterprise into “a Viking death ship.”

There was a similarly dark, throwback vibe to the space station sketch, too, with Carell’s mission commander attempting to tell stilted astronaut jokes and fun facts to Skyped-in school kids, only for a malfunction to flood the camera feed with dead, frozen monkeys, a cat with its face sucked inside out, and, finally, Kate McKinnon’s very deceased cosmonaut floating rigidly outside the ISS’ bubble window. It didn’t all work—again, Carell never seemed filly into his third hosting gig. But there was some real effort in the physical acting of the bit—apart from the dead McKinnon, Carell, Leslie Jones, and Mikey Day did some fine fake floating, and SNL has room for some darkness in it. After we hear about the unfortunate fate of the poor station kitty, there’s a moment where the beast floats into view with its back to us before it—very slowly—rotates to show just what the vacuum of space can do to a cat-face. That, plus some rictus-frozen, space-suited monkey puppets felt energizingly transgressive, in a way that SNL could stand to risk more often.

The “Beauty School Drop Out” parody musical number had a scrap of a funny idea in that Carell’s apparently heavenly, permed guardian angel is actually teenager Aidy Bryant’s dad, interrupting her 1950s sleepover to croon to her high school dropout friend. The concept that Carell’s dad has been touring the country for six weeks with a carful of sexy backup singer-dancers busting into teenage girls bedrooms has a nice, loony energy to it, and Aidy’s horrified reactions are good. (“God, what a small man you are.”) Throughout the episode, there was a refreshing attempt at doing some self-contained, conceptual sketches, but this one just didn’t ever lift off.

The Thanksgiving song sketch should have worked better. It, too, took an odd little idea—dinner guests Carell and Cecily Strong maintain there’s a famous Thanksgiving rock song which they proceed to sing in all its specifically inappropriate, boner-shrinking glory—that has the potential to soar along with the musical conceit. But then it, too, just didn’t, as Carell’s seeming diffidence sapped the momentum. It’s not a total loss—the turn that no one actually knows Strong’s character goes from Carell’s conviction that she was some sort of spirit to the revelation that she’s stolen everyone’s car keys and stabbed Beck Bennett’s host is more ambitiously weird than expected. But this one should have been a show-stopper, with everyone eventually remembering the song’s lyrics about a pair of lovers, a shy penis, and a cameo-ing squirrel and joining in the song, so its just-okay aftertaste is a bummer.

Chris Redd and Pete Davidson’s pro-Ruth Bader Ginsburg rap is the sort of thing they (especially Redd) have done better before, with the paean to the ailing but hopefully indestructible Supreme Court justice never expanding appreciably past its premise. It gave Kate McKinnon a chance to wheel out her RBG for some of her signature gyrating as “the one lady holding the whole damn thing together,” but it’s unlikely to garner another musical SNL Emmy for Redd and company.

The RV sketch, in which Heidi Gardner’s wife unsuccessfully hides how miserable she is since husband Carell cashed out to make her live out his cross-country camper fantasy worked to the extent that it did because Gardner, once more, showed what a fine actress she is on SNL. The sketch had slack pacing, no ending, another blah turn by Carell as the clueless husband, and a very nervous-looking great dane. But it also had Gardner’s peerless squeaking, eyes-averted denial to power it, with her secretly stewing wife not complaining about having to ride in the back (the dog gets carsick), sleep sitting up at the camper’s cramped table, and being in charge of emptying the vehicle’s septic tank before she finally explodes.

By dint of it being the first sketch after the monologue, I’m disinclined to cut the clueless dad sketch much slack. Of all its worst instincts, Saturday Night Live’s need to over-explain a premise is more damaging than musical monologues, game- and talk show sketches, and recurring characters combined. Here, dad Carell’s 5 a.m. announcement that he’s taking his four kids to Disney World sees his progeny immediately asking “Oh my god, does he not know?,” “Oh no, is our dad dumb?,” and “How can we know all this and our dad has no idea?” to let us know that Carell’s dad character is dumb and doesn’t know stuff. (Namely that their mom/his wife is sleeping with his boss, has left and moved to Arizona, and two of the kids aren’t his.) Carell, coming out for his first character work of the night, tentatively sets up the sketch-deadening explanatory lines, which leave viewers asking exactly how slow SNL thinks we are.

“What do you call that act?” “The Californians!”—Recurring sketch report

LaVar Ball, Ingraham Angle. Speaking of . . .

“It was my understanding there would be no math”—Political comedy report

We got another Ingraham Angle cold open tonight, with Kate McKinnon mugging it up as Fox News’ smirking white supremacist and, as she translates from Telemundo’s nickname for her, “La madre del diablo,” Laura Ingraham. McKinnon’s impression is more about pitch-perfect sneering contempt than vocal verisimilitude, but it’s still a decent vehicle to mock Ingraham’s ongoing campaign against facts, actual reporting, and anything darker than eggshell. Still, this showed the writing already letting the air out of the Alec Baldwin-replacing opening bit, as Ingraham’s breathless report on nonexistent Democratic voter fraud made eye-rolling jabs at Tyler Perry and Eddie Murphy showing up as Madea and the entire Klump family, respectively, to vote multiple times. The joke about Ingraham still scrambling for advertisers willing to sponsor someone who mocked school shooting survivors and, well, lots of other stuff is the sharpest weapon SNL wielded here, with Ingraham happily shilling for the likes of a bejeweled catheter (“Ouch.”), teeny, tiny turkeys (because you’ve alienated your entire family in time for Thanksgiving), and Volkswagen (“You know why.”) Cecily Strong made a welcome reappearance as Fox News legal shouter Jeanine Pirro. (“I hate them Laura!” “Who?” “Sorry, that’s my vocal warmup.”) And Alex Moffat continued the show’s questionable choice to portray Facebook boss Mark Zuckerberg as being somewhere on the autism spectrum as the whole joke, although him finally blurting, “When I do bad things, I get money” at least addressed the most(?) recent Facebook disinformation scandal obliquely. It wasn’t outstanding, but if it keeps Baldwin’s dull and obvious Trump offscreen for another week, I’ll allow it.

Carell’s biggest showcase was in the filmed Amazon piece, where his bald-capped Jeff Bezos smugly outlined all the ways the online behemoth’s new ventures are in no way intended to merely troll Donald Trump. You know, even with drones topped with bad wigs (instead of shaving their heads “like a real man would”), new headquarters in Trump’s home town and Washington-area residence (and Florida resort vicinity), and the Bezos-owned Washington Post featuring stories like “Immigration Lawyers Suing for Apprentice tapes of Trump using the N-Word.” Carell digs in to the part more than anywhere else on the episode, serenely jabbing at Trump being approximately 100 times less wealthy than he is, or how Trump’s book is so heavy to ship because “it has four Chapter 11s.” (As the commercial chirpily concludes, “This has been a sick burn by Jeff Bezos.”) Fair enough stuff. But, as with Jost’s Update material, there’s a simplistic sameness to the joke here as—while Carell’s Bezos glides over the fact that his new HQs are pleasing everyone “except for the people who live there, and the people who live in all the places we didn’t choose”—the pandering Trump-burning here ignores the parallel dynamic of two rich assholes screwing with people’s lives for petty reasons. If people are going to clap at the idea of Bezos using the Post to attack Trump, it undermines the Post’s actual journalism as just the grimy sniping of one said asshole at another. The crowd erupted in groans at the joke that Amazon’s Arlington National Cemetery-adjacent HQ will allow the company to pay tribute to the nation’s war dead “even when it’s raining,” but, well, Trump made such jokes fair game recently. It’s just that satire works better (or at all) if it isn’t deliberately or through laziness ignoring the whole picture.

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I am hip to the musics of today

Ella Mai has a pretty vibrato and some serviceable slow jams. Plus, she got to use the stage fog left over from Carell’s sleepover sketch for her second number.

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Most/Least Valuable (Not Ready For Prime Time) Player

Seemingly not content to continue keeping Ego Nwodim on the bench, the episode actually reduced her in size, as she was one of the students in the ISS sketch, asking her question from a tiny box in the corner of the screen.

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Nobody rose above this listless episode enough to warrant the top spot. Tough, but fair.

“What the hell is that thing?”—The Ten-To-Oneland Report

After the space corn fiasco (which, for or because of its faults, should have been the last sketch), the “GP Yass” commercial that actually ended the show fizzled out badly. The joke that you can set your default GPS voice to “drag entertainer” sort-of enchants car passengers Steve Carell and Heidi Gardner, who express enjoyment of the “sassy” directions and traffic warnings with a square deadpan that aims for . . . something? Honestly, it feels like a cut-for-time piece that was only plugged in because the actual ten-to-one sketch crapped out so badly. Directionless is as good a place to get off of this review as any.

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Stray observations

In addition to being Mrs. Steve Carell/monologue prop (along with their kids), Nancy Carell (née Walls) was a cast member on SNL from 1995-1996. (Something her husband was not.) Kind of strange the show wouldn’t make mention/comedic use of that.

“You can’t dismiss that idea simply because it isn’t true and sounds insane.”

Gardner’s dog-hating mom, feigning love for the huge new pet crowding her out of the RV: “Did you know that a dog can punch you?”

Che, suspiciously eyeing the picture of a handful of smiling black men standing with Trump as he announces some suspiciously not-racist-seeming prison reform legislation, states that, whenever he sees such a gathering, he thinks, “Oh lord, how much they sell us for?”

We’re off next week, gang. See you back on December 1 for host Claire Foy, with musical guest and copy editor’s nightmare Anderson .Paak.

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Source: https://tv.avclub.com/a-returning-steve-carell-helms-a-sluggish-saturday-nigh-1830519351

[zipgrowth]

Why the FCC’s E-rate Makes Funding High-Speed Internet a Slow Crawl

It’s one of the cruelest ironies in education: today’s schools must build and maintain robust high-speed, fiber-optic internet connections. But the process involved in finding funds for these upgrades can feel like a laggy dial-up modem, slow to a crawl—when it’s not cutting out completely.

For more than 20 years, the Federal Communications Commission has directed the multi-billion dollar E-rate program, which provides taxpayer-supported construction and service discounts that districts and libraries can use toward internet costs. The program isn't static, and changes big and small continue to shape its direction. In 2014, the FCC modernized the E-rate program, raising the overall funding cap to about $4 billion, making more money available for schools and libraries.

Some of the steps [the FCC is] taking to improve the program seem to be taking hold. It’s not mission accomplished yet, but it’s encouraging.

John Harrington, Funds for Learning

But along with modernization came EPC—pronounced “epic”—an online application portal, which critics say has caused numerous delays and a spate of application rejections around fiber internet construction.

Originally developed to help streamline the process, applicants charge the EPC system with losing completed applications due to glitches, being confusing to navigate and making it tough to input and sort relevant data, according to a recent anonymous survey of applicants conducted by E-rate consulting firm Funds For Learning.

“The implementation of EPC, while a good idea in theory, has contributed significantly to the increase in complexity,” wrote one applicant in the survey’s comments section. “It was not ready when it was introduced; is not operationally intuitive; and requires too much experience to use efficiently and effectively.” Another took a Trumpian tone, describing it as a “Total disaster.”

The silver lining? It’s not quite as bad as it was in previous years. In 2017, the same survey reported 44 percent of respondents found the EPC portal “difficult to use,” compared with 50 percent in 2015 and 2016. A quarter of respondents rated the system neither easy nor difficult in the 2017 survey. (2018 applications are still in process.)

Source: Funds for Learning

“Some of the steps they're taking to improve the program seem to be taking hold,” says John Harrington, CEO of Funds for Learning. “It’s not mission accomplished yet, but it’s encouraging.”

Delayed Gratification

System issues such as IT glitches are improving, and after going through the process a few times applicants are starting to adjust. “Anytime you implement a new system you are going to have challenges,” says Radha Sekar, the CEO of the Universal Service Administrative Company, or USAC, which built the EPC portal and administers the E-rate program for the FCC.

Sekar was appointed in January 2018 after her predecessor, Chris Henderson, resigned following a blistering takedown from FCC Chairman Ajit Pai on the EPC system’s shortcomings. “My immediate reaction was, since it’s a new system, there were a lot of growing pains associated with it from all parties,” she says.

Delays still plague the process. Each year the application process opens in January and closes in March. Last year, USAC expected to have all applications processed by September. Today, many remain unprocessed. In fact, some applicants are still waiting on funding they applied for back in 2016. In June, Alabama’s governor Kay Ivey sent a letter to the FCC relating to $32 million in E-rate funds her state was still waiting on. Governors in Texas and Montana have issued similar complaints.

Even more troublesome than the delays are flat-out denials, says Evan Marwell, CEO of EducationSuperHighway, a nonprofit that advocates for improved broadband in schools. As part of the E-rate modernization process, the FCC broadened the kinds of fiber networks eligible for discounts. They now include so-called dark and lit fiber leases, as well as specially construction projects to run new fiber lines.

According to EducationSuperHighway, as of last year there were more than 2,000 schools in the U.S. that still lacked fiber connections. And out of the 279 fiber projects submitted through E-rate in 2017, only three had received a decision by the Sept. 1 target date. This year, there were 347 such requests—for about $440 million in new broadband construction—and only a small fraction have received responses so far. (The organization also lists its complaints on a special website, delaysanddenials.org.)

Access Denied

In many cases we found those denials were unfair and made for spurious reasons

Evan Marwell, EducationSuperHighway

When the replies do come, they’re not always good news. Fiber proposals are often the most difficult to get approved, and they’re denied about 10 times more than normal funding requests, according to a Funds for Learning analysis.

“In many cases we found those denials were unfair and made for spurious reasons,” Marwell claims. Many rejections come down to technicalities and minor discrepancies found in a battery of complicated paperwork, according to the same analysis. Others were denied due to arcane regulations, which rarely match applicants’ actual experience getting bids and planning construction.

For example, Marwell says, until recently USAC regulations prohibited schools from including slack—or a few extra feet of line—in proposals, citing it as an unnecessary cost. Yet if the lines break, slack can help pull two severed lines together, saving money in the long run. Schools are also penalized if their proposed construction does not follow the shortest possible path—even if that route intersects with rivers or railroad tracks—both of which can hike overall prices.

Those rules are all thanks to an unpublished theoretical cost model built by academics that is based on geography and cost-per-foot financial assumptions, Marwell says. “You look at the way they’re reviewing things and it makes no sense,” he adds. “It’s a lack of understanding of broadband systems that’s creating these problems.”

Speeding Up the Process

Part of the problem may lie in who is actually reviewing the applications. For E-rate, the FCC sets the agenda and makes top-level decisions, and USAC sets the guidelines for reviewing applications—work they pass along to Solix, the third-party vendor that has processed and reviewed these forms for years.

“Our sense from our interactions is that the folks at Solix don’t understand broadband networks,” says Marwell, adding that they’re mostly concerned with rigidly following regulations, even when they don’t make sense for a given situation. “We have given feedback to USAC and the FCC that Solix needs more broadband expertise. We’ve even offered to go in and train them.”

Solix declined to comment, referring all questions back to USAC. Sekar’s view on Solix was relatively non-committal, although she did say that it came as a surprise when she first realized that Solix did much of the review process around applications. She has made it a focus of her administration to train USAC staff to be able to conduct application reviews themselves.

If you take a big approach to modernizing the E-rate program, you will never be successful. So we are taking one chunk at a time and fixing it.

Radha Sekar, USAC

As to Solix’s overall performance? “They have been here 20 years, I have been here seven months. It will take me a little longer to judge how they are performing,” she says. “Are they meeting the requirements of our statement of work? I would say yes.”

Sekar’s directive to USAC to be more proactive in reviewing applications is part of a larger strategy designed to look for ways to streamline approvals in response to criticism. She pulled out half of the 35-member E-rate team to work on a long-term project to identify areas where they can improve the process. She calls them the “believers,” in that they were the ones most gung-ho about change.

The believer team is looking at user frustrations and challenges, as well as how to make the EPC system more user-friendly and to develop a quality-control system with Solix to help them make more accurate decisions while applications are still in review.

“If you take a big approach to modernizing the E-rate program, you will never be successful,” Sekar says. “So we are taking one chunk at a time and fixing it.”

Any improvements to the system won’t be immediately apparent though; major changes can’t be implemented until 2019. Yet within that limiting framework, Marwell says there are fixes USAC could make if so inclined. Many have to do with the way reviewers interpret rules.

One example: the cardinal change rule, which requires applicants to notify all the telecom companies it has requested bids from if they make a significant change to their application or its terms. Yet “what constitutes a significant change is highly interpretive and subjective,” Marwell says. He also cites districts who have been denied after the theoretical cost model deemed the telecom bids in the application too expensive—even if they received only a single bid. “The applicants have no idea why it costs so much and yet that’s the only bid in the marketplace.”

Still, the Funds for Learning survey indicates that the post-modernization application process is getting somewhat easier to navigate each year. Many, like Harrington and even Marwell, see Sekar’s leadership as cause for cautious optimism. In short, things are getting better, but the layers of red tape and delays only hurt students in under-connected areas who may not have the same perspective on time as USAC and the FCC.

“For you and me, if a connection is wonky in Starbucks, we finish our latte and leave. The kids don't have that option,” Harrington says. “I used to say we live in a connected world. That's a misnomer—we live in a need-to-be-connected world and we're not all connected. The E-rate program isn't going to solve all that but it can play a huge role.”

Why the FCC’s E-rate Makes Funding High-Speed Internet a Slow Crawl published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness

[itsworn]

Here’s the Cure for Creaking C4 Corvettes: Vette2Vette’s C4 No Flex Kit

The C4 No Flex kit from Vette2Vette looks simple enough that an offshore knock-off artist could reproduce a reasonable facsimile, but a counterfeit kit couldn’t be installed as easy, or work as well. An observation we formed after this installation was completed and the car road tested. The C4 No Flex kit installed easily with every bolthole lining up perfectly and the mounting brackets fit right into place. There was not one snag from start to finish.

But before clarifying why a cheap knock-off wouldn’t be as good, allow us to explain what motivated the upgrade. The C4 is recognized as the first modern Corvette, yet it still has traces of its primitive forebears. The C4 was a respectable transition series into the modern Corvettes that followed, but the C4 did have growing pains. Amongst C4 owner’s complaints were the squeaks, creaks and darting over road irregularities brought on by its Targa top, as opposed to the more rigidly enforced T-top of the C3.

Dave McLellan, Corvette Chief Engineer from 1975-’92, was quoted as saying his design staff originally intended the C4 as a T-top car with a “T-bar roof connection as a structural member.” Then, future GM President Lloyd Reuss (1990-’92) specified the C4 should have a Targa top. Reportedly, this directive came down late in the production cycle and meant the C4 was released with a frame that liked to flex in the middle. (It’s interesting to note that Reuss was instrumental in returning a Corvette soft-top convertible to the 1986 model year lineup.)

The good news for 1986-’96 C4 owners is there’s a direct bolt-in aftermarket solution designed by Gordon Killebrew; Vette2Vette products calls it their C4 No Flex kit. It’s a frame stiffener bar system that puts the framerails in compression, not allowing the framerails to flex under load. In 1986, when the soft-top convertible was added to the lineup, Corvette engineers devised an X-brace to beef-up the framerails. A major drawback of the factory X-brace is it hangs lower and requires removal to access the underside of the drivetrain.

The subject vehicle is my triple-black 1990 Z51 with a little over 75,000 miles. I bought the car in Santa Barbara, California, from a guy that lived right on the beach. He bought an old Porsche and let the Corvette sit in his driveway for a few years. The ’90 C4 looked pretty rough, deteriorating rubber and cracked fiberglass from hit-and-runs perpetrated by fellow Santa Barbarians. I didn’t care to take it out for a test-drive because I was going to pass on the deal but the seller insisted. That drive changed everything. The car drove incredibly tight, just like a brand-new 1990 Corvette, including the expected squeaks, rattles, and creaks. My last Corvette was a much more primitive 1959, so I didn’t really mind, but as time has passed I’ve decided to upgrade the Z51 to behave as civilized as possible.

The results after installing Vette2Vette’s C4 No Flex kit were immediate. The irritating noises the car had driving over the speed bumps pulling into Vette’s tech center were completely gone, and the gains in handling are readily apparent when accelerating hard into the turns. Vette2Vette stands behind its C4 No Flex kit saying, “We guarantee that you will like our product. If not we will refund your money.”

1. Every nut and bolt necessary, plus the Heim joints, to install the C4 No Flex kit from Vette2Vette is included. Important! The C4 No Flex kit should be installed with the weight of the car on the wheels.

2. Ready to install right from the box, the mounting brackets and bars arrive powdercoated in a deep gloss black finish.

3. It’s a good practice to ensure the threads aren’t buggered and are free from excessive rust. Our first step was to spray penetrating oil into the boltholes.

4. Followed by chasing the threads with the correlating mounting bolt. If excessive force is needed, stop and chase the threads with a tap.

5. As a starting point to mount the bars, thread (screw) the Heim joints into the bar halfway. Note, there is a righthand and lefthand threaded Heim joint for each bar.

6. Mount the front brackets to the existing 1986-’96 convertible X-brace mounting holes. Torque the mounting bolts to 46 ft-lb.

7. The rear C4 No Flex kit mounting brackets install beneath the spindle rod brackets (suspension links).

8. Install the rear mounting brackets by removing the lower bolts (one per side) from the spindle rod brackets.

9. Note, the driver-side emergency brake cable needs to be unbolted and temporarily moved out of the way for the C4 No Flex kit mounting bracket to fit.

10. Bolt the C4 No Flex mounting bracket in place but only tighten the bolt just enough to hold it in place and parallel (align) to the framerail.

11. Then, use a 27/64-inch transfer center punch in the bracket hole to mark where a 7/16-inch hole must be drilled. Remove the bracket and drill the hole.

12. Reinstall the bracket and torque the 3/8-inch diameter bolt to 50 ft-lb and the lower spindle rod bracket bolt to 80 ft-lb.

13. Raise the rods into place and turn Heim joint inward or outward to align the Heim joint hole with the mounting bracket hole in order to insert 5/8-11 bolts.

14. Once the rods are centered with an equal length of thread exposed on the front and rear Heim joints torque the 5/8-11 bolts to 80 ft-lb.

15. Marking with a piece of blue masking tape made it easy to keep count how many revolutions the bar was turned to increase the load (tension) on the C4 No Flex kit.

16. Twisting (tightening) the bar by hand works at first but a 23mm open-end wrench must be used on the flats to tighten to full tension.

17. To adjust to one’s personal ride preference, remove the Targa top and measure from the windshield header to the halo. Next, jack the car up with the wheels suspended in air and take the same measurement. When the C4 No Flex kit is properly adjusted these measurements will be the same. Once that is the case, lock the Heim joints in place.

18. In this instance, the emergency brake cable (driver-side rear bracket) maintained a more graceful bend by not reattaching to the stock support bracket.

19. After Vette2Vette’s C4 No Flex kit was installed the hood and doors could be opened or closed with the car jacked up, and with or without Targa top installed.

  Vette2Vette

(815) 673-6200

www.vette2vette.com

The post Here’s the Cure for Creaking C4 Corvettes: Vette2Vette’s C4 No Flex Kit appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/heres-cure-creaking-c4-corvettes-vette2vettes-c4-no-flex-kit/ via IFTTT

[vivianrhopper85]

Doma

Toronto, so goes the saying, is a city of neighbourhoods. Little Italy, along College Street, is maybe the most well-known among these. But a few blocks north is a neighbourhood that still feels like a hidden gem in the city: Koreatown. Between the two neighbourhoods, you’re spoiled for choice when it comes to unique dining. But what’s perhaps most interesting is the way that these neighbourhoods, once rigidly defined, are beginning to mesh and blend into one another.

Grilled eggplant topped with tomato tartare, kimchi, and a charred eggplant puree

Which brings us to Doma, a high-end Korean restaurant (with inspirations drawn from French-style cooking) right in the heart of Little Italy. I have eaten a lot of Korean food since I moved to Toronto, and my go-to spots are small, hole-in-the-wall Korean soon tofu or bibimbap restaurants (either to sit down with or for arguably the best takeout there is). But what I’ve never tried is a fine dining experience of Korean cuisine. Which is all to say that I jumped at the chance to dine at Doma.

Décor

Doma is a small restaurant, with about a dozen or so tables. Nothing is too loud, or flashy, or fast-moving; the minimalist design, simple place setting, and quiet atmosphere lends the restaurant a meditative quality. The restaurant itself is identified only by a simple, white-square logo with small lettering.

Much of the decor, and in truth the experience itself, is built on the interplay between dark and light. Each table has one black wooden chair, and one light wooden chair; the light coloured tables are set with striking, ink-black cutlery; the walls are white, yet dim lighting encloses the space in on you. All of this is to say that Doma is comfortable, understated, and warm.

The warmth, and interplay of light, carries through the decor into the atmosphere, creating a dining room that is simple and meditative.The service is relaxed and inviting. This might change in a more hectic seating, but our server(s) were happy to chat about the wine, Korean food, how business has been in their first four months of operation, and so on.

  A post shared by DOMA (@domatoronto) on Nov 9, 2016 at 5:59pm PST

  Menu Range

The menu range is admittedly small at Doma. This needs to be qualified, though, by saying that their menu changes monthly. It’s also a sharing, tapas-style menu ("think of it like, medium to large tapas," said our server), so the experience is not one geared towards a lot of choice on your part. This is not something that you can necessarily hold against them, either, since their goal is not to feed you the expected, but rather something new and creative. With that said, the limited options display an impressive breadth, from grilled eggplant to sticky pork ribs, to grilled octopus, to duck confit dumplings. There were five menu items to choose from, and our server suggested that we go with three to four shared plates

Vegetarians (like myself) should take some pause, however: there were only two vegetarian options on the menu, which significantly limited our choice. We were lucky enough to be in at a slower time, and Chef Paul TK was happy to make a custom dish to help round out our meal.

Appetizers

There are no appetizers offered, per se, at Doma. Instead, you get a small amuse bouche (at no cost): a small vegetable-filled hotteok with a maple butter topping. Hotteoks are common for anyone who spends time in Koreatown, but for the uninitiated, a hotteok is like a small pancake with filling inside. Having eaten plenty of these that were pre-packaged snack foods, a hotteok done professionally and fresh was a delight. The vegetable filling offered a small teaser of the flavours to come: rich, and earthy in a way, but with subtle notes of spice and sweetness.

Roasted cauliflower with a soy glaze and sauteed mugwort atop a bed of quinoa

Main Course

What I find so appealing about Korean food is often the simplicity that exists in dishes that seem complicated. Our three shared plates very much embody this idea. Our first plate, a grilled eggplant topped with tomato tartare, kimchi, and a charred eggplant puree relies only on a few simple flavours—the tart sweetness of the tomatoes, the spice of the kimchi, and the richness of the charred eggplant puree—to offer up a balanced dish.

Our second shared plate was roasted cauliflower with a soy glaze and sauteed mugwort atop a bed of quinoa. Here, the French inspiration rings through in the quinoa: we asked the server what made it so flavourful, and she laughs. "Butter," she says. The dish is paired with a red pepper chutney which was full of flavour, and provided a spicy tanginess that had yet to appear throughout the meal.

Our third dish—a chef’s special, for the vegetarians—was a mixture of lentils, greens, and vegetables with a creamed cauliflower sauce. As a dish, it was earthier than the rest of the meal, and felt less like a Korean dish than the rest. It was good, there was no argument there, but it felt a bit out of place with the rest of the meal. With that said, it was an improvised dish on the part of Chef Paul Kim, so it shouldn't be read as much of a criticism, since the mere fact of the dish being served should be commended.

While the dishes were good, there was some homogeneity to them. When you eat one dish, in a non-sharing situation, small variation between dishes does not become notable; when you're sharing three dishes, the basic formula of cooked veggies on top of a grain or a legume, with a puree, chutney, or cream on the side becomes formulaic. This isn't bad, per se, but it could be said that (especially in terms of vegetarian cuisine), Doma could explore their range a bit more.

Rice cake rolled ice cream

Dessert

The dessert at Doma is where the culture shock, if that’s the appropriate term, is most apparent. We ordered a rice cake rolled ice cream, which came in cake-like slices. The taste of rice becomes apparent early, and never quite gives way to much sweetness. This, I’m told, is a fairly common Korean style of ice cream, with flavours like beet, black tea, and red bean being common flavours as well. In a sense, I’m glad I tried it, because it felt more like culinary experimentation than the rest of the meal. In another sense, it was not the best dessert I’ve ever had, either. (This has less to do with the rice taste — which once you get used to it isn’t so bad — and more to do with the homogeneity of flavours in the dish.) Still, it was a fitting dessert if only because it was unabashedly Korean, and was not attempting to conform to the Western tenets of sugar-packed desserts. It’s definitely worth a try, but my main complaint would be that you won’t get much else than that single note.

  A post shared by DOMA (@domatoronto) on Nov 17, 2016 at 8:23am PST

Drink Options

Doma features a list of house-crafted cocktails that are Korean-inspired takes on classic cocktails. Their "New Old Style," for instance, is essentially a Manhattan with mandarin orange flavours, or "A Different Name," which is essentially a martini but with soju, a popular Korean liquor. All the cocktails are in-house creations.

In addition to this, there is a small, but well-curated wine list, with about a half-dozen bottles of white and red, ranging from the affordable options (~$50) to more expensive (~$90, at the top end). In addition, there was a range of ciders available.

Service

There’s something refreshing about service that doesn’t take itself too seriously. Our servers spoke casually, dispensed with the formal trappings of fine dining service, and took time to chat like friends. This approach, while it won’t please everybody, has its advantages, in that it allows us to chat about the food, making it accessible and comprehensible. When dealing with a unique culinary approach — certainly French-inspired Korean food counts — this aides the experience. And surely the fact that it was a Wednesday night helped as well, as we were one of the only couples dining at the time.

Maybe the best comment I can give about the service is that it didn’t feel like service. Especially if you have worked in the food industry like I have, good service often resists opaque attempts to be good service. A server checking in every 15 minutes may be quantifiably good service, but it doesn’t feel great, per se. Rather, what makes the service at Doma good is all the things I can’t describe, simply because they feel less like service and more like dining with a friend. All the component parts were there, of course: our servers were attentive and were able to offer advice on the food, and everything was brought out well. Adequate service, though, is not good service, and the fact that our servers simply spoke to us like friends who they happened to be giving food to is testament to the quality of service at Doma.

  A post shared by DOMA (@domatoronto) on Mar 23, 2017 at 4:39pm PDT

Feeling Afterwards

Korean food, it seems, is overshadowed by the ubiquitousness of Chinese food, and the millennial popularity of Japanese sushi. This, I submit, is unfortunate—because Korean food is better than both of them. It is flavourful and inventive, incorporating something that is sure to please. In Toronto, Korean restaurants are easy to find, but exist primarily within a certain strata. Doma, however, is different: even surrounded by some of Toronto’s best Italian restaurants, it holds its own by showcasing the immense range of tastes that Korean food has to offer. With its French inspirations, their food achieves accessibility without the sacrifice of quality or authenticity—a testament to Chef Paul Kim’s creativity. With its intimate setting and its unique food, Doma is definitely not one to miss, and with a constantly rotating menu (new items are added monthly), it’s definitely one you’ll want to go back to.

KDKDKV

from News And Tip About Real Estate http://jamiesarner.com/toronto-restaurant-reviews/doma/