#people have indeed lost interest because of the lack of engagement+ him not being seen performing his material or going on promo run

[iamdarkness]

To Feed a Tiger. Forces of Will.3

Chapter 3

Alfonse x Summoner, Alfonse X Summoner X Lif

And one sided (as of now) Dimitri X Summoner X Alfonse X Lif

Triggers for talk about mental health. It is Feral Dimitri after all. Mentions of death and depressive thoughts.

Sexual Harassment and maybe more than that.

Incest. (Freyr and mentions of Freya). Rater R for a little graphic scenes of battle and character death. Nothing we have not seen in the game itself.

-Hrid…- You hear Sharena say under her breath and it feels like all the happiness has been drained from her voice. Of course she would feel sad. Her big brother meant so much to her and seeing him suffer would make her suffer as well. They were so close. He was her best friend, confidant, protector and hero. Watching him so defeated had been a shock and more so that she herself had not reacted fast enough to prevent this. In a way she felt responsible as well.

-Summoner _______. Princess Sharena. Heroes. It is a pleasure to be your guest again.- Hrid says when he is close enough to take your hand and Sharena’s. His hand lingers on yours and you take it back to take Princess Laegjan’s.

- It is indeed as King Hrid has said, a pleasure to be here again.- Laegjarn says as she takes your hand and Sharena’s, her piercing red eyes watch you searchingly.

You greet them equally and introduce your heroes by name and title. You will not have them be nameless heroes to no one. They deserve to be treated, like the heroes that they are. As if sensing your unrest and because he has dreamed of your pain Freyr comes and stand by your side . He blocks Hrid from getting too close to you. You hear young Claude snicker behind you.

-How was your trip to the beach Summoner? I would have liked to come sooner so we could meet you there, but we had a little delay.

- It was great! We even had a sand castle contest and a nice nap.

-They even got a great tan!- Said King Claude nodding to Freyr in particular and you turn to give him a fake angry look. You notice he is watching Alfonse and he winks at him. Alfonse looks like he understands something unspoken.

- I will cherish mine. It was a wonderful and invigorating nap.- Says Lord Freyr to bring attention to his chest and he “looks” sideways to smile at you.

- I can’t say the same about mine my Lord! It stings a lot!- You tell him smiling.

- Yeah we got the wrong lotion, so now we need to go to the infirmary to get fixed up.- Said Sharena sheepishly. You notice Alfonse and Hrid are looking at Freyr’s bare chest. They can clearly see the white mark of your arm on it. Hrid looked a little scandalized and Alfonse… he looked amused. He looks sideways at Hrid.

-Is that…?

-Oh it’s my hand. I kind of hugged him while I was sleeping. Now if you all don’t mind. We need to get to the infirmary. I’ll see you all at the meeting.- You say and leave with the rest of your group to the infirmary. You hear Alfonse talking to Hrid.

-Everyone loves our Summoner. Some more than others and in different ways.- And there is a hint of humor in his words. <<At least he is having fun.>>

~*~

The meeting lasted three hours. Besides the heroes Anna had asked to attend, you had asked Hero King Marth, who was the oldest of the Marths and with more experience, Micaiah, King Claude and Lord Freyr. You were sitting between the former two. They had sat themselves with you in between before Hrid had claimed the chair next to you. You had seen Claude talking to Alfonse and thought they had a plan to distract Hrid or may be just make him re think his life. There was no announcement about the engagement, but Hrid said the royal ball that was supposed to take place in two wees was pushed back for two months. This would give them all time to prepare and gather more information.

- I also hope that by then it will be two good news to announce and not just one.- He tells you and Fjorm when the meeting was over. You feel Fjorm’s cold hand take yours and give it a squeeze.- Dear summoner, would you be so kind to sit by my side at dinner? I would very much like to talk about some important things with you.

-Sure.- You agree to it because, you want him to give you a reason to tell him you are not interested. Alfonse and Fjorm did not sacrificed themselves, for this man to think you are going to fall at his feet after a dinner. Besides, you were sure Claude and Alfonse were planing something and you trusted them. You turned to Fjorm and winked to let her know you got this. She blushed at this.

Once at dinner you do sit by his side. Commander Anna is sitting at the head of the table.Alfonse is sitting about three chairs from you, between Fjorm and Sharena. The chair next to you is the other head of the table and it is still empty. Suddenly, you see F Dimitri come inside the dinning hall. He seldom comes in here and you signal for him to come and sit by your side. He complies. Claude and Freyr sit on the chairs in front of you and Hrid.

Dimitri was dressed in a dressy black suit with blue cape that Forest had designed for you to give him. His hair was up in a ponytail.

-Dimitri. You look so handsome! Did you like the clothes?

-Thank you _______. I…they feel comfortable.- He says and his face is crimson red.

All through dinner Freyr and Claude kept on talking to you and taking your attention from Hrid. Claude was blatantly flirting and Freyr...you were looking at a different side of him, to be sure. It must have been because as someone who could be in your dreams, had the ability to see things others didn’t and know things about you that no one else understood, but he got your sense of humor. Something even Alfonse had, had trouble to adjust to, not understanding your references and knowledge. You had to read his same books to be able to make new references and jokes. After years of being together he had taken your humor and understood what you meant and some of the heroes even used your slang. Freyr was different. He knew stuff and he used the obscure references to make you laugh and it gave the conversation a more intimate feel.

Still you were giving Dimitri all the attention you could because he was important to you and wanted to make him feel that he was cared for.

-We should go to the beach tomorrow and make it a drink contest.- Says Claude smiling at you.

-Oh my Lord give me patience! I am not taking you to get drunk Claude. I have never seen you drunk, but let me tell you; you do not need it.

-I can not give you patience child. Only good dreams and many children.- Lord Freyr says smiling at you. Hrid stops eating to look at him. You notice Claude and Dimitri are doing the same. You laugh at it. You keep forgetting he is the god of fertility as well. Freyr turns to them and says amused.

-I am the god of dreams and fertility. Do you want my blessing?- He turned his closed eyes at Claude who laughed out laud and bring his hands off in a guarding motion.

Everyone seemed to breath again.

-Wait have you given ______ your blessing?- Claude asks and winks at you. You feel your cheeks heat up.

-I would give her, as many children as she desires.- He answers Claude. The wording is very on purpose and it seems it is not lost on the people sitting at the table. You hear Hrid chock on his food.<< Oh God! What are these guys doing!?>> You spy a look at Alfonse and he looks amused if not a little red faced and concerned, but amused non the less. You give Hrid your glass of water to drink and wait to see if he needs you to perform the whatever maneuver. He drinks the water and start breathing right. He thanks you with a blush to his cheeks. He looks mortified about the incident.

-Yes Claude. I’ll be having thirteen children.- You say the first number that comes to your mind.

- I’m going to need a bigger table at home then.- His eyes twinkle with mischief.

-You better. My whole soccer team and I will be visiting you often.- You hear sounds of laughter coming from various sides of the table.

-Hey! I meant children with my beautiful green eyes.- He wiggles his brows.

-Well you better start looking for a wife then, because those are a lot of kids to have. You better start soon.

-That is so mean!- He says fake hurt, dramatically touching his heart.

-You gave Dimitri your blessing.- Dimitri says suddenly, breaking the conversation and looking at Claude in a cold and annoyed manner. He is asking Freyr about baby Dimitri.

-May he never lack good dreams. They are the rest of the mind and the refuge of the soul.

-God, that is so true. I’m tired of dreaming of going to battle and finding my self back in school butt naked - You hear a noise like someone almost spit their drink. Hrid by your side actually laughs.- or zombies in the battlefield eating my heroes. The living dead. - You elaborate after you see Hrid’s confused expression.

-Are you afraid of school and the risen?- Asks Hrid trying to catch your attention away from Freyr and specially Claude.

-Heck no! Zombies are rotten corpses that eat the living like wild rabid animals. I used to watch a lot of moving pictures about them before coming to live here. I’m cool with risen. I even like the red eyes. I like red eyes. They’re kind of sexy, depending of whoever has them.- Of course you are talking about Lif.- And school…I mean…the bad part is finding yourself butt naked in a public place.

-I wonder what that dream means if it is a recurring dream.

-I think it means…- You get cut short by the conversation in the table next to yours.

-Oh You heard that Lord Corrin? The summoner finds red eyes sexy!- You hear Nile’s voice loudly tell Corrin.

-What the hell Niles! Why are you listening to my conversation?- You throw him your balled up napkin. He only laughs. Corrin who is sitting by his side, hits him with his elbow. You hear an “Ouch” followed by Niles laughing.

-Summoner you were talking loud enough for the whole kingdom. This makes you laugh too.

You look sideways at Alfonse who is talking to Fjorm. She seems to disagree with something he said, sighs and nods.

After a while when some of the heroes start to get up from the tables you hear Alfonse clear his throat. Claude is looking at him and you turn just in time to see Fjorm say something to Hrid.

-_______. Would you care to sing something for us?- Asks Hrid.

-Right now?- <<Are this guys trying to kill me of embarrassment?>>

-Yes _____! Sing that song you sing with the guys on campaigns! - That was Claude.- Make it to Freya like last time! You don’t mind, do you?- He asks Freyr. Freyr shakes his dead.

<<WTH is he talking about?>> there are many songs you like singing with the heroes when in campaigns by the fire light so you are kind of confused. He makes a gesture and you get it.

-Oh…Fine.- You agree mostly because that song does not need the best of voices. You lean in to talk softly to Dimitri.- Dimitri. It is going to get loud.- He nods at you like he is ready.- You look around and catch Shigure’s eye and signal to him. He goes pink but nods.

-When a humble bard…-There was a choir of whistles, “Yeah!”s and shouts.

Graced a ride along

With Geralt of Rivia

Along came this song.

From when the White Wolf fought

A silver-tongued devil

Her army of elves

At her hooves did they revel . - Freyr does look entertained.

They came after me- Shigure stands and sings alongside you.

With masterful deceit

Broke down my lute

And they kicked in my teeth

While the devil's horns

Minced our tender meat

And so cried the Witcher

She can't be bleat

Toss a coin to your Witcher -Everyone starts singing. Hrid’s brows are knitted and he is looking around to see everyone singing. Even some of the heroes like Tibarn who had gone out had come back to sing.

O' Valley of Plenty

O' Valley of Plenty, oh

Toss a coin to your Witcher

O' Valley of Plenty

(Rest of the verses here)

Toss a coin to your Witcher

O' Valley of Plenty

O' Valley of Plenty, oh

Toss a coin to your Witcher

A friend of humanity X3 - You leave the last choir to Claude who has the perfect voice for the part. ( 1)

By the time you finish the song everyone starts screaming. You have no idea why they like that song so much but every time you all sing it; it feels like you are all pirates or something.

-Goddess! I love that song. For a minute I felt I was in a tavern somewhere in a town far away riddled with monsters and villains.- Says Claude.

-You mean Fodlan taverns anywhere?- Asks Dimitri. He sounds serious, but the gruffness of his voice is gone and it makes you happy to see him put the effort to joke around. Claude laughs out loud and can only nod to agree.

All around you could hear the heroes talking excitedly about one thing or another. Some where inviting others to the town tavern. Others like Lady Camilla is heard telling someone something like “We should dress like pirates next Pirate Festival dear!”.

-That was something, you don’t see every day.- Says Hrid smiling and he looks entertained.- You are something else summoner. Who is the Witcher?

-Freyr.- Says Claude at the same time that Freyr says your name.

- It is a story about a monster hunter called Geralt of Rivia, that is sent to fight a half goat or ram and half man who was helping some elves, who were the “terror” of the nearby towns. I changed it for Lady Freya and her dark elves, who we had to fight in our dreams some time ago, with the help of Lord Freyr. I say the Witcher would be Lord Freyr. He was the one who gave up his life to save us. I summoned him some time ago.- You raise your cup to him in a toast. He smiles at you.- Besides he has the long white hair and beautiful golden eyes.- Hrid looks at Freyr and Freyr opens his eyes to reveal his beautiful eyes. They are a liquid, luminous gold color. They glow as if with the light of liquid fire but not quite lava.

-I thought he was blind.- He says in wonder. You could understand him. Lord Freyr was a beauty to behold. Even in his animal form he was the most beautiful being you had ever seen. Even the ethereal beauty of Lady Freya was nothing compared to him. Everyone was either a little jealous of him, felt intimidated by him, or had a crush on him.

-Just sleeping. - Freyr says calmly.

-Talking about sleeping. I need to get the younglings to bed. Dimitri what are you going to do?

-Whatever you ask of me.- He says readily eyeing Hrid. He has noticed how clingy he seemed to be with you and he does not trust him.

-I would like you to come with me on my patrols tonight; if that is alright with you. -His brows furrow and he gives Alfonse a long look. Alfonse seems to be listening but avoids looking at you.

-I will come with you.

-Hey I thought I was coming with you my dear!- Says Claude.

-You can come to get the kids to bed if you want to. I am going to need a handsome prince for tonight’s fairy tale and Marth is busy.- You tell him teasingly. Hero King Marth who is walking by looks your way and blushes.

-That is so cruel.- He says and pouts.

-Summoner. I was wondering if you would like to take a walk with me in the gardens or I could take the watch with you.- Says Hrid.

-Omm, I really need to take Dimitri. There are things I would like to talk about with him, but if you do not mind you can come to story time and then take a walk. Since my prince charming is sulking right now. It looks like he does not want to cooperate.- You notice Claude is looking at Alfonse and you have this distinct feeling that surprises will keep happening before the night was out.

<<Seriously guys? Like my heroes need to be told to do weird crap.>>

Dimitri went to prepare for your watch together, but before he left, you saw him frown at Hrid who returned it with a cold look. This of course annoyed you to no end because no one treats your babies that way. You go to the living area where the children gather every night for a hero to tell them a tale. You do this twice a week, usually with Alfonse by your side. You really wanted to be petty and reenact Frozen with Hrid as the prince, but you remember Anna and Alfonse said to treat him right.

<<Fine>>

When you are done with the kids you and Hrid go take that walk in the garden and decide that if he starts coming on to you; you will have to nicely let him down. You are even waiting for the chance. You are sitting on a bench around the entrance that lead to the Eastern stables. Hrid has like the spot to take a rest and sit as close to you as possible. Lucky for you the hour was still early enough that many heroes are still around and you do not feel uncomfortable.

- The heroes are very fond of you _____. It is very impressive to see. I have been told so many things about you and I thought it would be impossible for someone to posses so many qualities like you; but I can see that not only are all of those rumors true…they do not make you justice . I can see what you do for the heroes and for the people. I was told you aided in a birthing yesterday.-You nod but say nothing when he keeps talking.- I remember the first time I saw you. You came to help heal me and ask if I needed anything. My sister Gunnthra was so fond of you. She believes you are destined to be part of our family. I can only agree with her good judgement.

- I feel very humbled by her favor towards me. I…- Just thinking about her, and her horrible demise brought tears to your eyes.- I wish I had, had more time to know her better. Sometimes… I wish I could see her in a dream and see her happy again. I also wish I could save Fjorm…from everything. -He looks moved by your statement but he has no idea that he is the one you want to save her from.

-It may do her good to spend a weekend at home. You could come and visit with her. It would bring us happiness if you did. It would make me very happy.- He says and takes your hand in his cold one.

-I think it would be good for her to do so, but I am afraid that as long as there is a war; my place is here and I can’t take more than a day off every week. You see…I…-There is a pause since you were distracted by someone walking on your far left, as if trying to not be seen.- Hey!! Valter? You are back!. What do you have there?- You get up and walk towards the tall man.

-A shake…- He says . He has heard you say that to other people jokingly. He is not turning around to face you and has something big on his shoulder.

- Valter?- He finally turns around and you see he is all bloody from a wound on his arm and leg. There are gashes as if from big paws.- Oh god Valter! You are hurt! Let me see! You’ve been gone for three days! I know you came early but look at you!

-I am fine summoner. I will go to the healers in a while. Here.- He lowers the thing he has been holding on his shoulder.- I gift you the man eater,that has been plaguing the villagers in the Western villages.- He places the mountain lion at your feet. His tall figure kneeling on one knee to better show his prey.

- A fine prey Valter. I could not have chosen a better hunter. -He smiles with pride. At first you and Valter had not see eye to eye, with his way of trying to make you be afraid of him and calling you prey.  Alter he had a lot of talking to by Alfonse and Leon/ Fomortiis, you had come to an understanding and now It was a better relationship. You may not trust him as a person but you trusted him to be himself and now you had a better understanding of his motivations and personality. You also valued and respect his skills.- I thank you for an excellent job.- You take our your handkerchief and clean his mouth. It is dripping with blood and it is not his.

-Will you partake of it Summoner?- He asks lifting it up to his shoulder again.

-Of course, but only after it is cooked if you don’t mind. Are you going to skin it in the kitchen? -He nods- I’ll go take a look during my watch. Valter don’t eat it raw! Those cats have worms in their meat. - He nods and smears your cheek with blood. - Valter…- you whine at his retreating back. He gives a loud laugh.

- Was he drinking its blood?

- Yeah, probably.- You say whipping the blood off of your face.- I’ve told him not to eat it raw. I am afraid he is going to get sick in the long run, but he told me he was not going to live that long. Now I am seriously thinking of not returning him to his world… I’m gonna have to adopt him or something. - You notice now Hrid is looking at you a little open mouthed.

<<What did I do?>>

-Summoner!- You hear the shout of a familiar voice. You see a mop of white hair shinning bright in the light of the torches. His red eyes burning with annoyance.- Naga’s brat changed his patrol to be my partner. Did you allowed this?

-No Mr. Grima. I didn’t know about this. Which of them?

-The first one…the one from the river.- <<Oh Marth>> He says it pouting. You take his hand.

- Grima, dear. You have to understand that sometimes people may want to be your friend. Has he ask you about Robin?

-No. Never.

-See? He is not interested in returning Robin like Chrom wanted to, not only because he has never been friends with Robin before, but because he knows quite well there is only you in that body. What he wants is to be your friend. You see, like you; Hero King Marth was summoned after death. He will be staying here after the war, like you. I have talked to him already Grima dear. He has no evil intention towards you. He just wants to be your friend.- He looks to his side and thinks for a moment.

-Fine worm; but if he so much as thinks about “bringing back” Robin, I’ll eat him.- He is still kind of pouting and kind of bashful about it. You ruffle his hair playfully. He growls but lowers his head to rest on your shoulder.

-Come here you grumpy dragon. -You give him a hug.- Give the man the chance you gave me and Alfonse. And if he so much as hurt a single hair of my -You whisper so only he can hear- Baby dragon ( 2 )…I will personally behead him or something.

-Don’t call me that worm!- then he adds in a softer tone-…eat him…- He sounds angry to other people but you know him well. He does not move his head. You don’t know it, but he sends Hrid a venomous look.

-I’ll eat him whole Grima. He’ll make some great tacos or burgers, sausages…Ug! I grossed my self out now.-  You say laughing. He gives you a low laugh as well.- I didn’t see you at dinner Grima.

-I was busy training.

-I know. Here if you go to the kitchen and get something to eat’ I’ll give you this candy…but don’t tell Gaius about it.- He lets go.- Oh Valter is there with this mountain lion he killed. We ate roasted beef.- He makes a face. He dislikes Valter and mountain lion.

-I don’t like mountain lion. Fine. I’ll eat him instead.- He says smirking and turning to leave.

-No Grima! You’ll get sick!- You say laughing hard. You know he is kidding.

-That…That is the Fell Dragon Grima?- Asks Hrid when Grima is gone. You nod smiling.- The terror and destroyer of the world?- He looked at your face and can almost see pride in them, like a mother showing off his child who has done something great. And of course you feel pride. Grima was loved and happy. He no longer wanted to avenge himself, he wanted to be loved and be accepted. This was a big win for you.

The rest of the walk is spend like this. You walk for a while and then a hero shows up and take your attention away from Hrid. He seems a little frustrated but at the same time, that look he gives you, like you are something precious does not fade from his eyes. It is the time for you to go and you are about to say good night when he asks something of you.

-This night has been wonderful. I have seen you work your magic and the more I see, the more I think you would be a great queen.

<<Oh crap!>>- I am just a regular person who wants what’s best for her people and home. -<<Yeah sound more patriotic why don’t you?>>

- I know. That is the reason. I - He makes along pause and seems to change his mind on what he wanted to say.- I know, I asked this of you before but, I really would like to hear you sing. Only this time. Would you sing a love song? What would you sing to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?

-I really am not that great a singer. I just like music a lot and since I came here I lost my… music so I sing it, to not for get it… besides I…that is very personal.- You say uncomfortable. This was going sideways fast and you knew it.

-I understand. I also understand you do not know me enough to fall in love with me. You must know by now I wanted ask for your hand in marriage, but I will not push it. I just want to hear what Fjorm has heard. It would make me really happy.

You think about it and realize that how worst could it really get? It was not like you were going to accept him any way. -OK, let’s walk this way.- You tell him and start singing when you are almost under Alfonse’s balcony.

I say I'll move the mountains

And I'll move the mountains

If he wants them out of the way. -- It did feel like you had to move a mountain to reach Alfonse, when you had just met. Now

look at you now. You could barely part from each other.

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love, I say.

I say I'll go through fire

And I'll go through fire -- There are flashes of you fighting alongside Alfonse to beat Surtr.

As he wants it, so shall it be

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love, you see.

Like the wind that shakes the bough

He moves me with a smile -- Yo see him in your mind’s eye smiling that rare sweet smile he has only for a few precious people and you.

The difficult I'll do right now --Well you did gave him an army of heroes and manage it well.

The impossible will take a little while -- And you will end the war and win it for him.

I say I'll wait forever --You look up to his window. Up till now you had been looking at the starry sky but the light in his room had gone out. He was surely looking out the window.

And I mean forever-- That was your promise. You will wait for ever for him.

If I have to hold up the sky

Crazy he calls me

Sure, I'm crazy

Crazy in love am I

Crazy in love am I. ( 3)

Luckily Hrid had not been here long enough to know where your room or Alfonse’s room lay. He did not know he had witnessed your promise to him.

-That was beautiful. That song… I could imagine you fighting against Surtr…Saving my land and my people.

<< Oh Lord! You have to be kidding me. This is what he got from this?>>

-You have to remember your highness, that I was not alone and I did the least of the fighting. You have Alfonse to thank for that and The Order. -<<And your sister’s sacrifice…>>

- I was lost in the song I have to confess. You look so beautiful right now. It is easy to forget everything else.- He steps closer to you. You are hit with the urge t to step back, but you have to stand your ground.- _____ I want to get to know you better. I want to be more than just acquaintances. I want to be..

<<God I hope he says best friends! Why can’t someone just come and save me?>>

-...more than just your ally. I want to be there when you need me and be the one you can count on.

<< Sir you are describing Alfonse…>>

-Hrid. I appreciate the sentiment. It is always a good thing to get to know the people that are important in our lives. I do agree with that, yet I need to tell you; that with the war and all the work I need to do; I can not offer you more than friendship. My priorities..

-She tells us all the same thing. Can you believe that? So very cruel Summoner.- Says King Claude from behind you.- I apologize for the intrusion, but princess Sharena has need of your help. Delthea drunk a kettle of coffee and is now running around playing pranks on unsuspecting heroes. I think she hid in the tower. Also Dimitri said he will be waiting for you in the library in half an hour.

-Oh Lord! Hrid, please forgive me for leaving you. Delthea is a very powerful and very imaginative witch, I can’t have her do this at this hour.

-I understand completely ______. In fact I would like to be of assistance.-  Hrid said eyeing Claude.

-That would be amazing. I just need to warn you about the consequences; but if you are alright with cat ears, be our guest. -Claude points to his head. Sure enough there lays a set of black velvety cat ears.

-Oh for God’s sake Claude! Wait. Is there a tail to match?…Oh what am I saying. I’m sorry Hrid. You better sit this one out. There are just so many guys with cat ears and tails I can manage in one night. I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night.

-As you wish. Good night and pleasant dreams.- You thank him and go away with Claude.

- You look so cute Claude.- You say and laugh.

-Mm interested in petting my ears  _____?

When you two are far enough, Claude takes his fake cat ears off and meet up with Freyr and Delthea who is not really playing tricks on anyone.

- I almost didn’t make it. I apologize ______ . I did hear you tell him you are not interested. That is good. I don’t think it will stop him though. It feels like no matter what we do, he can’t seem to mind that the heroes flirt with you. I mean I understand. I see you do this every day. You care for everyone and they can’t help but adore you and I understand it quite well and it only makes me love you more.- He says it matter of fact like he is not baring his feelings in front of other people.

-Claude…

-I know ____. I should have considered it. He just looks so stiff, controlling, possessive and well cold, I thought he would find it uncomfortable. Make him re think his choice. I’m thinking even you telling him you are not interested in a relationship may be making him more persistent. Like whenever you tell Valter not to eat mountain lion raw…He already ate the liver by the way. I saw him a couple of minutes ago.

-What?- Face palm <<OMG Valter. I feel like I’m dealing with toddles!>>

-Well. It is done. We will see what we can do tomorrow.

-I suppose. - You start walking towards the library where Dimitri would be waiting for you, but make some space to talk to Delthea quietly. -Oh Delthea. Did you ever find out what the book was about?

-Oh…I did ask Alfonse but he could not open it. He asked me where I had found it and I showed him. He had never seen it or heard about it before. He did not tel me the exact translation, but said it was about the first King of Askr. I asked him if I could help him find out how to open it and he said it was fine by him, so as soon as the Ice King takes off we get to work. I also told him I wanted to help him with his project and I managed to convince him to let me help. Like you say: “ Two heads are better than one.” he just told me not to tell you. ______ he is very upset. I am worried about him. I mean if he asked Claude to help him it means he is very desperate. That man better leave tomorrow or I will bewitch his underpants to be itchy for a month! What?! I can guarantee you he will never know it was us. Just like the time I turned Lord Virion’s undergarments pink. -she giggles.

- Was that you? Oh my God. -Virion was still looking for the culprit.- Please don’t do that. I don’t need more trouble for the Order or Askr. We can leave it as last resort though; in case we can’t find a way to break the deal.- You tell her to settle her down. When you finally meet up with Dimitri, you notice he is talking to Freyr and offering him something. On a closer inspection you see it is one of the key pendants to the tree house.

- I can not guarantee you she will not follow in a way, but no one will be getting in there but you, _____ and I, so there will be less chance of someone spiking your drinks. I am taking dreamless sleep pills and can’t dream. She will not tempt me.

- I feel touched by your gesture. I will take you up on your offer if you are sure of it.

-I am. I thought about it. I figure it would be hard to return to your room.

-Then I will stay with you. Thank you. I will wait for you reading in the library until you are done with your patrol.

- You can join us, if that is your wish.- Says Dimitri. Freyr seems to be thinking about it.

-I thin it is better for me to wait here. There are books here I have never read before.

Claude says his goodnights and leaves. Delthea stays to tell Freyr about the awesome book she found and where she found it. You are crossing the door to the outer grounds to talk to the inner wall guards. It is half past midnight.

-Dimitri. What you did back there for Lord Freyr. I am really touched and thankful for it. I thought about changing his room, but you know how all the rooms are the same except for Alfonse’s and mine, so it would be all the same. I was thinking to take him to my room and sleeping on the study. I was sure he would not agree to that. Then I thought to let him stay in one of the rooms at the infirmary.

-I thought about it when you told me what had happened to him. I am sure it was much more serious than what you mentioned.

- It is. It is much more serious.

-He seems to feel safe around you.- <<As do I>> He thinks.

- I wish I could save him from her.- << I already watched him die once…I could not take it if he were to die again because I failed.>> You do not voice your fears with Dimitri. It is better for him not to trouble himself with your fears.- I could have offered to sleep with him, but even voicing this sounds bad. Askr is so very conservative. - <<Although…We could camp out in the tree house with Dimitri! Wait…that sounds like a threesome or better yet a “treesome”…Damn!>>- we could…- You get cut short by your messaging pendant getting too warm. Something is wrong. Then you hear someone shouting your name. It is Gordin.

-______!!! Lord Freyr told me to tell you the Elmblan Empire is crossing our borders! They are about to attack the keeps in the Northern towns. He saw it some moments ago and sent Delthea to tell Commander Anna.

-Thank you Gordin! Dimitri. I need to tell Alfonse and Sharena.

-I can tell the princess!- Says Gordin seriously.

-Thank you! Let’s go Dimitri.- You feel the pendant again. It was Anna. The message was to get ready.

You are running down the hall to Alfonse’s room when his door opens up. You see Hrid and Fjorm getting out of her room down the hall.

-Lord Freyr saw Embla crossing the Northern border and attacking the keeps.

-Let’s get ready. Inform the heroes on rotation. We will wait for you in the War room.- You nod and walk yo your room to get to the list in the study, but you get waylaid by Hrid and Fjorm who tries to persuade him to wait until they are called.

-Are we being attacked?

-Not ourselves. The keeps in the Northern border are about to be attacked. We will probably march in a while. I’ll keep you posted. I need to call my heroes on rotation.

You enter your room and then the study. You hear Dimitri say something and then shut the door.

-_______. I am not in rotation, but I want to fight. Is Lord Freyr fighting too?

-Let’s see. He is in rotation…but…

- Let him go. It will keep his mind off of his troubles. I will fight too and keep my eye on him.

-If you are sure; I’ll add you to the rooster.- You start sending the magic signals to the heroes in rotation and once you are done you take the list with you to the War Room. On your way out you see Fjorm and Hrid are meeting after preparing themselves to fight. They follow behind you to the War Room.

-Fjorm, you are not in rotation. You are part of the base defence today. You want to come with?

- Yes. I already changed my turn with Mathilda. Oh and I found Valter on the way. He said he will be ready when you are.

-He is not on rotation. In fact he was supposed to still be off today, but returned early…well I guess. He can come.

- What is this about rotation?- Asks Hrid. He is dressed in full armor and ready to go.

-It is the way to manage the heroes. One part fights, another part is left as reserves and the defence stays to defend the castle and the people of town in case there is an attack while we march off. The heroes change every battle. Right now we are about to see where we are about go and what we are about to do and decide if we need to do some changes in the groups. Just like the Royal army.

-You manage it all by yourself? Impressive.

-Well it is my job to get to know the heroes abilities and weaknesses . Then decide who works better in what situation and what they should be doing and who to send them with. You know, tactician’s planing. I make the suggestions and then Alfonse, who is the brain decides if the draft is right for what he thinks the enemy is doing and stuff. He’s a genius. Then Anna makes the final decision… but I mean I also like to have other opinions. Like Robin’s and Soren’s for example. It is all simple and regular army managing.

- Well. Not really. Remember when we fist met and you had suggested this to Commander Anna, because you were afraid someone would try attacking the castle when you were away, just like the time Embla had tried to destroy the Summoning Ruins? I also remember Anna apologized to you for not taking your suggestion of having a fire brigade before Surtr attacked into consideration. It was also your idea to make the Heroes their Order Cloaks to blend in with the surroundings and re designed the Regular Army’s new camouflage uniforms. The Royal Army even changed theirs as well! (4)

<< God Fjorm! Don’t help me look good now!>> Hrid looked impressed. Fjorm looks sorry.

-I saw the changes. I like the new uniforms and their usefulness. Amazing!

-Well none of those ideas are mine. I just took them from what the armies use in The World of Steel. I mean, sometimes Alfonse lends me his brain cells and I do come up with some good ideas, but mostly it is him doing the job. I just help along.- Fjorm laughs at this. She knows what you mean, but the two men look at you with different levels of confusion. You finally arrive to the War Room and after asking if you wanted him to wait outside, you let Dimitri stand by your side during the briefing. Fjorm had stood on your other side and signaled Alfonse to stand by her. After a moment she whispers a quiet “sorry” in your ear. She moves from between you two to go talk to Laegjarn. You can feel Alfonse’s hand lightly touch yours when she leaves. God! How you wanted to touch him. Hold his hand and disappear from the world.

Since Lord Freyr’s dream was a forewarning you had time to get to the site and wait for the enemy to attack. It would be an ambush. You fear you will have to spend the trip avoiding Hrid and stealing moments to talk to Alfonse. During the first part of the night when you were walking besides F Dimitri, you remember he had wanted to talk to you about something important.

-So Dimitri. What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?- Dimitri looked taken aback for a moment and then he looked around to see if anyone was hearing you.

- I…I have been watching Lif when he comes to watch you…- He says and suddenly you are attacked by the memories of your last encounter.- I apologize for not telling you directly…I did not know if he was real or not.

-Lif…-<< My Alfonse>> the thought passes your mind faster that lightning and you had no time to question it.- I… I can see why you would think that. He is… He looks so …-<<Beautiful>>- different. My regret. -You had know he had seen Lif. Of course you did, but you wanted to let him tell you in his own time after that one time he avoided the subject.

-I saw him go inside your window…I am sorry. I was not thinking strait. I let him in, not sure of who he was until you mentioned him. I just knew he loved you and he wanted to be near you… so I let him. I wanted to know what he would do. Understand him.

You lower your head before someone notices your watery eyes as they fill up with tears. Those words were breaking your heart… and now he was gone.

-Don’t worry about it Dimitri. I practically invited him. I also understand you… and I can see your instincts are working just fine. I trust them and I trust you. Besides. I wanted to see him so badly. I was not sure if he had survived and now I know he is…still fighting.

- You love them both…

- I… I do…Do you think me wicked?

- At first. When I did not know who he was. I understand now. Would you tell me how it went? All of it? I want to know about him.

- I don’t blame you for wanting to know. He is an interesting person. I mean, he is Alfonse but…They are the same, but different. Alfonse plays the violin you know. He plays like the angels in heaven…They are both violin music, but different pieces you see? Both highly intelligent and both seriously passionate in everything they believe and do…but like music Alfonse is intense but contained, controlled, like Vivaldi’s Winter And Lif is just as intense but unbound like Devil’s Thrill…Both beautiful to behold but …Oh crap I forgot you don’t know what I’m talking about. The music sound kind of like - You hum the music and explain the differences in rhythm and tempo. You look at him to see if he gets it and you see him smiling. You have never seen him smile.- Heh… I got a little carried away didn’t I?- He nodded.- Were you there when he left?

- Yes.

-I still have to tell Alfonse. I forgot to do so with the…arrival of our guests and everything else.-You backpedal to not tell him about the engagement.

-You will tell him? Everything?

- Of course. I don’t want to keep secrets from him. He knew what I was doing. That was the reason he was not home. We wanted to help him. We even had a plan on how to do so and…you saw. It all went sideways. Alfonse knew Lif would decline our offer, but I wanted to believe. I could not even tell him the plan… I felt so selfish asking him to stay.

- It would be painful to be around you and not be near…

- (sigh) yeah…and let’s not forget Sharena.- You start telling him how everything had started. How you all had thought he was the first king of Askr and then found out the truth. You tell him about Sharena’s flowers he had placed in that shine he had made. You tell him about your Summoner’s coat folded neatly among your favorite flowers. His parent’s crowns. How he had built the shrine because there was no bodies to bury and no tombs to take flowers to. You explained his plans and how he had changed his mind to help you. How he had been used like a marionette by Hell to kill you and how you had finished her with the his most precious possession. His Summoner’s Breidablik…you omit it was your own weapon or so you thought.

After a while there is a pause in the trek for rest and meals. By this time the sun was already coming up. While you are talking to the men,you are interrupted by Hrid who wants to be your guard during the battle.

- King Dimitri is her guard today. He is her support.- Says F Dimitri in his gruff voice. Hrid looks coldly back at him, and you sense he is about to retort. There is tension in the air and you have to intervene.

- I appreciate it and you are welcome to stay, but he is right, Dimitri is my baby sitter this time.

- I understand you already have your support, but it would ease my mind if I could stay by your side. This way I can protect you and observe the way you lead your men. If needed I will assist in battle of course and like I said before in the meeting; you can use my men as if they are your own. As I wish you will see them one day.

-I… Thank you your Highness…- Dimitri was scowling and you could tell he was beginning to get angry.

-Were we not on first name terms _____?

-I apologize for interrupting, but I was wondering if his Highness would help me out.- The voice came from behind Hrid. It was Charlotte. Her huge soulful eyes were fixed on Hrid.Her voice was all sweetness and her demeanor bashful and coy. To her side Groom Marth stood looking at Dimitri.- Your sister said you could help me.

<<Oh Thanks GOD! I could kiss Fjorm right now!>>

-Oh Hrid this is Lady Charlotte of Nohr. She is a trusted friend and ally.- It had taken a while to warm up to her after the incident with Alfonse. He had to explain to her, in the coldest of voices that he was not interested in her in any sort of way and that, what she was doing was harassment and it was punishable in Askr. Prince Xander had been called as well and he had been even less lenient. After working with her you found out she was actually pretty cool when she was not obsession with someone. You even gave her pointers on what she was doing wrong with guys. Everyone knows guys do not like desperate women and she radiated desperation.

-I would help her, but I am afraid I am not tall enough.- Says Marth. Hrid excuses himself and goes to help Charlotte. You can tell he is very annoyed by the redness on his cheeks and ears. Charlotte turns to you and winks. Marth gives you a small smirk and asks if he can talk to Dimitri. They both leave to where King Dimitri is waiting for them. As soon as they leave, you feel someone tap you in the back. You turn around and King Claude takes a finger to his closed mouth and signals for you to follow him.

- Please tell me I am not as persistent and annoying as that man!- He says in a quiet hiss. You walk a little into the wooded area by the road and see a figure dressed in white waiting for you.

-Thank you Claude. I owe you. And for the record. You are not annoying at all and I enjoy spending time with you.

-Then minutes Alfonse. Make the best of it.- Claude says and winks. You turn around and Alfonse is blushing.

He walks up to you and takes your hand. He says nothing but his eyes speak volumes. His other hand comes up to your face and caresses your cheek. You lean into his touch and close your eyes. He kisses your forehead and then embrace you. You circle his waist as he cradles your back and head.

Meanwhile King Dimitri, Savior King Dimitri and Marth are talking to Fallen Dimitri. F Dimitri had gone to ask them what was happening to you and what was the deal with the king of Nifl. K Dimitri and G Marth had weighted the options of telling F Dimitri what they knew. They decided to tell him about the treaty and that he should be patient and threat the King with respect so that Askr could gain the aid they will need if they were to be attacked by another kingdom. They will tell him about the engagement after Hrid leaves.

-Yes. Apparently he is interested in building a relationship ending in marriage with her, but we all know she is not interested in anyone but Prince Alfonse. Still, we have to be careful and polite with him.- Explains Marth.

-Fine ,but if he so much as breathes wrong, her way I will cut his head off.- He is about to go when he is stopped by his other self.

-It is not wise to project your feelings towards her. She will not return them. Better men than us have tried and failed. She wants only to help you and it will only hurt you both.- Says King Dimitri.

-I understand who her heart belongs to and I would not come between them.- He wondered if any of them had seen the way you looked at Lif, or had seen how much you love each other, or if they only knew about Alfonse. The way he saw it; he knew better than any of them who your heart belonged to. Divided as it was.

Dimitri found you talking to Alfonse just at the edge of the forest by the road you were taking; but he did not approached you. You were looking at a map, but seemed to be talking about something else. He spied Hrid talking to the blonde girl who wanted to marry a rich man. Her charms were being neglected by the prince who kept scowling and sending you furtive looks. Dimitri could hear you talking thanks to his finer sense of hearing.

-Can we talk about that after the battle?- You ask Alfonse. He scowls.

- What did he do? Did he hurt you?

-What? No! He refused our help, just like you said he would. He left…for good this time.

- There is more.

-We should focus on the battle ahead. I don’t want to mess up something important because our head is in another matter.- Alfonse closes his eyes. He is loosing his patience and probably thinking there was something worst than what actually happened. You sigh.- I wanted to wait until later to tell you. The truth is just that, he refused our help, said he could never be my friend and that even if he agreed to be helped, he doesn’t believe we can help him. He showed me his face…then kissed me. - Alfonse palled and rubbed his face. He looked annoyed but at the same time relieved.- I did not tell him about my “memories”. I don’t know what he would do, if what we think happened to me, is real.- Alfonse looked even more relieved by that. Dimitri wondered what that meant.

-We will talk about this when we get home. Hrid will be your guard today. He asked Commander Anna. -His jaw muscles were moving with tension.

- Goddammit! Well so will Dimitri. I am not changing my plan. He is lucky I did not choose Grima. I’m being nice here Alfonse…a good girl Alfonse.- You smile coyly at him and at first he is confused, but you see him redden. He has no idea of your real meaning, but just looking at you giving him that look is enough to make him melt. He knows you are flirting, but he does not know the context. He is about to say something when you both hear Anna give the command to start the march.

After a meal brake, Fjorm comes to talk to you.

-_____. I heard my brother has asked to be your body guard. You have to deny him.- You look at her confused.- _____ remember our traditions. If he saves your life or Alfonse’s; you will owe him a life debt. I…do not understand him. I would not have thought him capable of using something like this or even demanding it of you, but he seems so different. I am not sure if it is because he has been alone without mother and Gunthra to guide him or something, but he looks different. I am just doing this as a precaution. I swear to you he is a good man and a honorable one, but I also know that he is stubborn and will fight for what he wants and what he thinks is best.

-I believe you Fjorm. I actually like him as a person. I just can’t help be angry at his ideas and the outcome of his requirements for the treaty. I will appeal to his warrior pride and make him be in the battlefield, just not close to Alfonse or Sharena. Deal?- She smiles and blushes when you take her hand in yours.

That night there is no time to put tents up. You put your roll up by Sharena and Fae who sleeps between you and Grima. You have noticed Grima had given the small dragon some of the candy you had given him. Fae is slowly becoming a younger sister of sorts to him. She started following him around and he let her after he was told she was alone in the world and had been isolated for a long time. She had been well taken care of, but had no living family. Although she had people who loved her and knew some half dragons, she was immediately drawn to Grima after she had heard of how he had been treated and how he had been isolated and alone. She had told you she wanted to help him. They were both alone.

You were awaken by a soft voice.

-The family has grown.- Alfonse’s smiling face is looking down at you from his sitting position by your head. You look around to find Fae had moved to Grima’s side and some time in the night, young Tiki had laid down on his other side.

<<OMG! What do I do?!>> You did not want Grima to wake up to find her there and get angry. You look at Grima and see that his eyes are open. He moves his hand from under Tiki’s head just a bit and signals you to not make a noise. <<Oh OK then..>> He closes his eyes again.

-Care to patrol with me?- Alfonse asks and you get up to join him. Hrid had, had the last watch and was sleeping now. You would be leaving in a few hours and arrive at the keeps before twilight.

-I guess it has grown. I wonder why the dragons just leave their kids so young wander around in the world, all alone like that.

-They probably have their reasons to do it.- He says quietly. You were thinking of arguing your point but remember that he himself was not as close to his parents and had had a more or less lonely childhood. If it wasn’t for Sharena he would have been much more of a loner. You decide to change the subject.

-Free for some hours then?- You ask. He looks back to where Hrid is laying asleep by his sisters.

-At last. Care for a tea after the patrol?- He asks you smiling. You take his hand and look him in the eyes.

-I’ll be happy to.

You do the patrol and drink some hot water since you could not find the tea. You talk for a while and fall asleep together sitting by the fire. This is where F Dimitri finds you to wake you up to re start the journey.

The second day goes on just like the first. Hrid comes often to talk to you and more often than not some heroes come to take you away for one reason or another. You walked alongside K Claude mostly and Grima who was followed by young Tiki and Fae. At some point Hero King Marth came to walk alongside and carried a sleepy Tiki who had placed a flower on his tiara. Fae pouted until Grima carried her as well. You looked back one time to find Chrome watching longingly at them.

You arrived past midday to the Keeps and after you help them all to settle and then seek Hrid out. You did not notice Alfonse had followed you and stayed in the shadows to wait for you.

-Hrid. I wanted to talk to you.

-Oh?

-You see… I don’t know how to say this… It is just, I wanted to ask you something. -He he looks at you expectantly with a small smile adorning his face. You also try not to sound flirty but keep it as interested.- I was thinking back at the time we found you in Muspell and remembering how you were fighting. Well the reason I was reluctant for you to be my guard was that I was curious about your style and I wanted to see more of it.

- Oh! I see. I was desperate and not at my best.

-Being desperate to save a loved one is probably when people are at their best in my opinion. Maybe not technique wise but at least morally.- He reddens and bites his lower lip a little.

-I would love to show you my style. Where do you want me?

<<Is he…?>>

-Umm. I was thinking of placing you, if you are alright with it of course; on the right flank, by Lord Seliph. That way you are in the fray and still close enough.

-It sounds good to me.- He says.

- We can talk about it after the battle. - You say because you knew he would want to hog the time again and because now at least you had something to talk about that does not sound awkward to you.

You attended the meeting with the Royal Army Officers. Alfonse had sent a messenger before hand to warn them. They had arrived some two hours before you.The plan was laid out for the officers and and after some debate it was approved. The Royal Army was very set in their ways and your suggestion on an ambush by militia attacks was taken with skepticism. You had met this kind of drawback before and it was always smoothed over by the heroes and Alfonse. The later had avoided your gaze every time you had asked for his opinion and you notice he looked angry. He had stood as far away as possible from you. Meanwhile Hrid had stood next to Claude which was as close to you as he could get.

As soon as the meeting was over, you sent out the mages and scouts to set up confusion wards in case enemy scouts came and saw you already there. Then mines were placed by the mages for when the enemy arrived. Not explosive mines but paint. The paint was magic and it help to immobilize , by temporally blind and confuse the enemy warriors; giving you precious time to attack them or retreat as needed. They also had the side effect of giving people hives. You seek out Alfonse to talk to him. You find him in the armory.

-Alfonse. I need to talk to you.- He does not turn to you and keeps on checking his gear and weapons. He looks like he wants to ignore you.

- I have no time. We can do this after the battle…unless you have someone to talk to later instead?

<<???>>

-Yeah… I promised Hrid we would talk about his sword style and technique…and that is what I need to talk to you about.

-I need to go check on the men.

-It will be just a minute…why are you so angry any way?

-What do you mean angry? Why would I be angry? Did you do something to anger me?

-I don’t think so…Look any way; Fjorm came and told me not let Hrid be my guard…- He looked at you now.- because she did not want him to save me or something and then I would owe him a life debt.

-What? He wouldn’t dare...- Now he looks even angrier.

-Yeah she doesn’t believe that either, but she says he looked different in a way and it is a “just in case” kind of thing, so I went to talk to him and ask him to fight. I was afraid for you as well as Sharena. It is better neither of us owe him something. - He nods. He still looked annoyed but at least he did not radiated that miasma of doom he does when he is really angry.

- I.. heard you talking to him.

-Oh! So that is why…Oh Alfonse!- You look around to see if someone is watching and take his hand. He leads you a little away until he finds a small door that he opens and you find yourself in a small closet full of weapon polishing products.

-I’m sorry I should have told you I was going to do that, but I didn’t found the time with so much stuff to do.

-No…I should not be jumping to conclusions. It is just…- He suddenly hugs you and kisses you on the forehead.- I…I love you so much…- He lowers his face and is about to kiss you. You feel like the butterflies in your stomach are having a party in there.

(Knock, knock)

-You two. It’s time to go!- Alfonse jumps back at the sound of Niles’ always suggestive words. You open the door and frown at him. Niles looks around inside the closet and smirks.- So…how was the sword polishing?

<<Oh I wish Niles!>> You roll your eyes at him.- We were only talking. You look back at Alfonse but he is looking down at his feet. You have never seen him look so guilty before. <<Adorable!>>

-Just talking huh…I love “just talking” with people inside closets too.

-Oh I wish Niles, but you went ahead an ruined it by knocking at the door. Besides we were in there for only like thirty seconds! Oh wait…Is that how long you “talk to people in closets”?

-______!!- Comes Alfonse’s voice behind you.

-.…Oh you got me good Summoner!- He says and starts laughing out loud.- I forget you are not afraid to use that tongue.

<<Oh Niles if only you knew… That’s exactly what I was trying to do.>> He looks at your face sees that little smirk and he just knows and laughs harder.

-Don’t worry your Highness. I am an expert at keeping secrets. I would give you fifteen minutes but we really need to go.- Alfonse comes out after you and his face is redder than a tomato.

-Wait. Let me fix your cloak.- He stops and lets you fix his scarf part of the cloak. You linger around his neck and then pass your fingers through the locks of hair loose from his crown. He is looking at you and you see his lips part and look at your lips for a second. His tongue comes out slowly to lick at his lower lip. The moment is so intimate Niles turns around to give you privacy and for once keeps quiet.

-You look good.- You tell him and his cheeks redden a little more.- Let’s go.- You say and both of you follow Niles out of the armory to Anna who is waiting for you.

~*~

The Emblian Empire attacked at midnight. The Askrn forces had let them get close to the bait, which was the keep where the the town people were hiding. Then the militia attacks were started in the enemy rear. Your surprise attack was successful and when they tried to retreat the mines enclosed them in where the men were not stationed. The battlefield was alight with fires suddenly burning, this way you could see where the heroes were and what they were doing.

From your position on one of the highest hills outside of town you could send the signals to the men and not be reached by enemy fire. King Savior Dimitri was by your left side monitoring the danger and the rear. Waiting for the moment he had to act.

Although you had smoother over the problem with Alfonse, he seemed still to be in a bad mood. He fights with the same skill as ever, but you could see there was something else in there. The same quality to his strikes that Lif had in his…like he really wanted to hurt something.

-Beruka tell Innes there’s an enemy sniper hiding far to his right flank over the tallest tree. - You mouthed over to Beruka who could read your lips. She nodded and before taking of to warn Innes.

Once in a while you look over to Hrid to check on his team and actually evaluating him so you would have something to talk about later on.

Next is Valter whom you had told to stay and rest after being on that hunt he went on. He seemed just as efficient, but there was a slowness to his strikes that if not corrected could end in a bad situation. You touch your medallion and say his name. It would let him know you are watching him or have something to tell him. He turns to you after making sure there is no danger.

- Are we the prey or are we the hunter?- That did it for him. No one would call him prey. He seemed to regain vigor, speed and strength.- Good. That’s my hunter boy.- You could hear Azura and Shigure singing over the noise. You turn to watch the others. Michaelis, Minerva, Seliph, Olivia,Eliwood and Roy, Hector, Rath , Eirika, Lyon and Ephraim…

You take your spyglass to watch the farther part of the field and spy on Xander, who is the leader of the Emblan army. He is watching you it seems, so you wave at him. He lowers the spyglass and for a second it looks like he is about to wave back but thinks better of it. This makes you chuckle. That man is actually a good man and you could understand his position. He not only kept Veronica company and keeps the vultures that try to make her their puppet away from them, but he had smoothed out some problems that could have escalated without his help. Without him the war would be worst and who knows where Veronica would be or what she would be doing. He kept her human.

Then from the North Eastern side of the Keep the flank breaks and reinforcements pour in. You knew about them and were prepared for them, that was what the mines were for. What you were not prepare for, was one of the heroes in the enemy lines. Adrestian Emperor Edelgard, dressed in her Reds and golds armor lead the reinforcements. You hear a hiss from S K Dimitri at the same time you feel your medallion warn you. It was Alfonse. You turn to watch him but you know full well what he meant. He points to F Dimitri. He has isolated himself as he always does. His backup Marth, is blocked form getting to him by a couple of lancers. Alfonse made his way to him, but before he reached him Dimitri looked up. It seemed like he could hear orders being given and recognized the voice.

Dimitri saw Edelgard and he froze for a second. Then he started to walk her way and he looked like he was not paying attention to his surroundings. Alfonse started to make his way towards him and so did Marth. You signal King Claude who is near by covering Alfonse, but he had already seen the scene unfolding. He started felling the enemies that were about to hit Dimitri. You signal Dimitri himself. At last he seems to react, but instead of returning your call, he started to relentlessly and brutally kill the enemies on his way.

You hear SK Dimitri growl in anger. You reach for his hand and squeeze it gently.

You can see with the spyglass that Edelgard has taken notice of Dimitri. She stands for a minute watching him and you see her close her eyes. The face she makes is almost one of regret. She turns around, then signals something to her men and she starts attacking the opposite flank. On her stead another hero is sent. Death Knight.

-Oh FUCK… Death Knight.- You had seen him before. That man was insane and brutal. He did not listen to orders and actively has tried to kill your heroes any chance he has. You see him make a bee line to where F Dimitri is trying to follow Edelgard.

You see it as if in slow motion. Ferdinand came down on Dimitri even before Death Knight arrived. You had not even seen him coming. He drove his lance with enough force to behead someone and the speed to not miss. He had the advantage of surprise. Dimitri could not deflect or evade; but before Ferdinand’s lance hit its mark; a golden shield came up to protect a falling Dimitri. Alfonse had reached Dimitri just in time to jump on the way of the strike and effectively striking the blond out of the way. Alfonse almost fell down with the force of the strike and the effort not to step on the fallen blonde. He stood with his legs on either side of Dimitri’s upper body. Then the second strike came just as he was trying to gain his footing. The force of the second strike almost made him stumble and had him straddling the blonde. Alfonse could do nothing but shield himself and Dimitri. He turned to see if Dimitri was alright and his faces were inches apart.

He was about to tell him to get up when they heard a yell. Ferdinand was falling down his horse and an arrow was stuck on the horse’s flank. Claude was covering him while trying to keep from getting hit by enemy arrows. This gave Alfonse the time he needed to get up. Alfonse was standing up when Death Knight’s scythe came sideways and hit his shield on the side enough to fling it and his arm away form his body. He deflected the rest with the sword.

Sparks like fireworks flew from Folkvangr. Death Knight was poised to strike again. Watching from the ground Dimitri was struggling to get up. He was backing away so he could get up and not be on the way.

You watch it all from your post. Unable to do anything about it. You feel like the life is draining from you with every beat of the heart. Hel’s scythe; coming down slowly and yet so fast. Just like it had done for Anna and Sharena before. It strikes Alfonse to behead , but the angle and motion playing their part have another idea. The scythe misses badly. He is falling down…

-ALFONSE!!!!!

…..He is falling….he is …. outside the Order's castle in a training arena. You followed him to see him train. He is doing something you had not seen him do before. He jumps and twirls his sword to gather power and at the point of the strike there is a beam of power coming out. The attack is one of the most powerful you had ever seen. It may even rival Aether.

-Incredible…- You say behind him. He turns and smiles at you. His naked torso glistening with sweat. In another time he would he dying of shame from being found with so little clothes.

-Do you like it? I am trying to create something powerful to kill her.

-Alfonse that is amazing! How do you call it?

-I don’t know yet…I want to make a future for us with it. Maybe then we can end this absurd war and get married,- He gets close to you and touches your cheek with his fingers. - My beloved _______. He kisses you slowly on your lips and then kisses your forehead.-…I might call it…

-DOOR TO THE FUTURE!!!!- Your yell resonates over the cacophony of voices and yells of the battlefield. Breidablik lights up…

A/N

This program is messing up my grammar instead of helping, especially names. I have no idea how many times I have gone and fixed them. When I transfer it to the page it gets messed up again. I think it gets confused because I write in different languages XD

As a side note, I am trying not to make Hrid sound like he is an asshole at all. I like him a lot, but the guy is in love and is very possessive and jealous of Alfonse who he believes belongs with his sister and passes most of his time with you so…He just wants a chance for you to get to know him and fall in love maybe…and maybe…and maybe…

I have this head canon that if Valter ever hears Guren no Yumiya from Attack on Titan it would become his National Anthem XD. Bless Natewantstobattle and his covers.

Have you ever wonder why Lif’s face and original skin only covers his nose and his mouth seems to be lost and to have no bone inside?….yeah…I do.

1. The song I am referencing here is the metal cover by Dan Vasc:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bS4Q-WWyl3Q

2. It is said that Grima is 2000+ years but I seriously think that he can’t be that much older than Tiki was around the time of Shadow Dragon. So to me he is still a kid. A very neglected and abused kid who is lashing out in the worst way, because he is so powerful. I am doing this because I think that a gown up Grima would be more a love interest and I don’t want that in this story. Also I ship him with Evostrashbin’s Summoner. BTW I’m so happy Evo got Halloween Mr. Grima! I love it!

3. Crazy He Calls Me. Natalie Cole’s version. I love this song all thanks to my father. I choose it because I could see the co-relation with the story line and situation.

4. I mean. I get that the order is supposed to be the good guys but dressing in white all the time in battle? That works well in winter and Nifl, but that’s it. That Lord of the Rings cloak, the Lorien Elves gave The Fellowship would be awesome to have for the Heroes on more stealthy missions. Camo uniforms would also work wonders on the Order’s favor.

[cybernaght]

Lost Tomb Reboot aka Reunion: The Sound of Providence Season 2

I swear I wasn’t actually planning to write this thing, instead just opting for random picture spams of the season, starting with every time this show got Zhu Yilong’s Wu Xie wet, because that was a trend I had not expected and kind of lived for.

All that will still happen eventually, but here’s also my five cents on the season, because it is very very important for you to know just how worthy of love it is. 

You see, Season 1 was silly and fun, and definitely, undeniably, enjoyable. 

Then Season 2 swooped in, and completely won my heart. I cannot even express how much I adored it. Everything about this show is extremely extra in the best possible way; it is likely to have been the most charmingly over the top thing I have ever seen.

(Vague spoilers for : specific monsters, narratively significant moments, fate of the certain characters, including the protagonist.)

Some of it comes from the pace, which speeds up dramatically early in the season, and only slows down marginally to allow characters some breathing room. It’s not just gripping because it makes you want to hit play on the next episode, it also keeps you engaged because you can’t wait to see how the next wild set of events may be resolved and then topped. At about episode ten I was questioning how they could possibly produce a sense of further escalation. At episode twenty, I was wondering if anything can top dramatic impact of whatever was occurring only two thirds of the way through the season. 

I need not have worried: every single incredible character moment, every mind-boggling turn of the plot, every single bizarre threat would be blown out of water by the next one. 

Partly, this seemingly has to do with the writers attempts to ground the material. I am not sure what the novel contained, but I can discern that it was something along the lines of ghosts, ghouls and various supernatural circumstance. But when you are told  “this is a curse”, your reaction is naturally to go, “ah okay, so curses are a thing, and this is one of them, gotcha”. When you are told, “this is a heavy metal poisoning combined with a neurotoxin affecting the victim’s central nervous system and making them violently hallucinate”, your reaction is to question whether this is how metals, toxins, poisons, or, indeed, central nervous systems work in any version of reality. 

The show does this a lot. From human shaped swarms of killer moths, to flying brain-penetrating eels, to probably my favourite monster of the moment: the murder clams.

Seriously, I cannot stress enough that this show has murder clams. They move with their clam mussels. They jump with their clam shells. They will murder you in cold blood. 

There are ancient “laser corridor” style set-ups, there are shapes made out of fog recording its memory, there are group hallucinations generated by the sound of thunder, there are Mission Impossible style full face masks. There is a character who walked off a gun wound and sarin gas poisoning in order to die in the arms of his lover who looks like his dead sister. And by “looks like” I mean, “played by the same actress”. 

There is a whole character of Doctor Churros, who saves our hero from imminent death by washing his lungs with oil. 

This, I suppose, ultimately, is how The Lost Tomb Reboot (Season 2 in particular) lures you in. It turns what I saw as the show’s fault in season 1 into its biggest strength by establishing the world in which nothing is too outlandish and everything is possible. It so thoroughly breaks your expectations barometer, you grow to willingly accept whatever is thrown at you. 

The most beautiful thing about all of it, is that the fun and games and moments of barely controlled hysteria do not lower the stakes whatsoever. Moreover, somehow this show makes me believe that it could just about do something as irrevocable as, perhaps, killing off the protagonist 

You know how you can watch, say, a super hero film, and then the “all is lost” moment happens, and you kind of have to struggle to care because you know that they will pull through. It’s curious to see how that happens, but you don’t doubt for even second that it will. Well, when that moment arrived here, I found myself between ugly sobbing, and going into speculation overdrive to try and figure out how the Reboot would deal with that. By then I have seen that show be an high octave action movie, a supernatural mystery, a horror thriller, a buddy comedy and a spy flick: it was not a massive stretch to imagine it turning into a revenge tragedy.

Wu Xie dying had been building up since episode one, so you had hours and hours and oh-so-many hours to brace for it, and when the tragedy does not strike, the relief is visceral. 

Despite all the moments of hilarity (whether intended or otherwise), despite the chaotic turns of the plot, despite how utterly off the charts this show is tonally, when it matters, the narrative is pulled together in a way which not only makes complete sense within the world of the series, but is meticulously set-up, satisfying resolved, and delivers lovely emotional impact. Considering that the moral of the story is a very common “live in the moment”, paired up with “greed is bad”, it was surprising how much resonance its delivery actually created. 

Ultimately, however, this show is about found family, and, more specifically, about Wu Xie’s ability to create this family for himself and for every single member of it. He starts as one of the trio, and ends as one of a large group of old allies, new friends, and people he has graced with so much kindness that they follow him until the bitter end. 

Lost Tomb Reboot ensures that you get to know them all, and it’s pretty damn hard to not love this misfit group of adventurers in its entirety. 

(The only thing I could say is that I wish the series spent more time making sure the viewer knows and likes Zhang Qiling, but it seemingly had little purpose for him apart form sweeping in as an avenging angel every now and then. I get that he is a well established character in the series, and that his whole thing is being deadly and enigmatic, but considering that you got to know the other two legs of the famous Triangle so well, it’s a shame that this one was reserved to mostly being Xiao Ge Ex Machina. It would have been nice to know what he was about apart from “really damn cool”.)

Bai Haotian remained my favourite character. She is cute, sweet, romantic, and, for the lack of a better word, “girly”. She is not shy about her crush on Wu Xie, and is prepared to do a lot of reckless, dangerous things for him. None of the above undermine her intelligence, cunningness and authority. Xiao Bai is a young woman in a position of power, and she absolutely knows how to handle herself; for every time she is a damsel in distress, she gets to be the rescuer. For every time she puts herself in needless danger, she learns to collect herself and plan ahead. For every time she is bossed around, she turns and takes charge. Her journey is not the centred around getting the guy, but around discovering her self-assertion; she finds her place within his team not by being a romantic interest, but through her personal strengths. 

My absolutely favourite moment for her came when an antagonist used her affection for Wu Xie to get an upper hand on her, and she gets restrained, knife to her throat. Xiao Bai swivels away, knocks the attacker out and goes to town kicking him, to a great astonishment of this team, as she states that liking someone does not make her weak. 

And it doesn’t. Being in love has nothing to do with weakness or strength. Being a young, and excitable, and a woman does not equate to weakness either.

I’m not saying that this show is a feminist manifesto, because it is definitely not that. Every other prominent female character suffers a pitiful fate in service of creating motivation for the men of the story. But it does spend a lot of time making sure you, the viewer, know its heroes well enough to mentally befriend them. And if this means giving the female lead complexity, I cannot possibly be mad at that. 

So, this was it. This was the Lost Tomb Reboot. It brought me a ridiculous amount of joy and I will miss it a lot. 

And yes, the picture spams will be 100% an excuse to rewatch at least some of it. 

PS. Said spams miiiiight be gif based if I figure out a way to colour correct the damn things. 

[lexsssu]

Shall We Date: Worship Me AU - Uriel (Avatar of Chastity)

What if the MC gets transported to the Celestial Realm instead? What if the angels were the love interests?

GENERAL HCs

Uriel — “The Flame of God/God is my Light”

Has a penchant for perfection

Give him a task and you bet your ass he’ll come back finished with results so phenomenal you’re sure that if you did it, there’s no way it would turn out this great

Reserved, but not exactly anti-social

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about himself whenever people ask about him, but it’s just that he thinks there are a million other things that are worth more to converse about than his exploits or the things he enjoyed

Chastity doesn’t just mean staying pure by abstaining from sexual relations and the lack of temptations one experiences, but being placed in the face of temptation and yet staying true to one’s morals. This is why Uriel doesn’t condemn anyone who decides to engage in such acts, whether within the sanctity of marriage or not, whether it is done because all parties hold sincere feelings for one another or not.

Gone is the ancient time and the rules that once applied then cannot be the same for current times. This is why Uriel has made it his mission to continuously study about humans, to stay up to date with the way they thought and felt so as he can better serve as a guiding beacon to them

When he’s not busy with his regular duties, you would normally find Uriel at the Celestial realm’s library with stacks of reference books on his table. Time is nothing to them, which is why for him it felt as if humans changed too quickly in so little time

An ideology that may have taken decades or centuries to form is but a blink of an eye to them which is why Mr. Perfectionist can’t help but immediately want to be informed in the hopes that it will help him improve himself

If he doesn’t keep adding and updating to his knowledge then how can he even hope to be one of the guiding virtues of humanity with outdated ideals?

Ideals can and will change over time, but his morals are the one thing that Uriel will never change.

His mind and body may be corrupted over time, because eternity is such a long time indeed, but the morals that made him who he is, what HE is will always stay the same

Tbh you can’t tempt this guy with anything

If you do manage to “tempt” him, know that you didn’t actually succeed but he just liked/pitied you enough to go with whatever fuckery you wanted him to commit

That's why he normally agrees with whatever bullshit his twin brother, Gabriel, tries to wrangle him into

Uriel ain't doing it because Gabriel tempted him, but because he loved his twin so much that he's willing to indulge him whenever he wanted to fuck shit up

Gabriel is the one who starts messes and Uriel is the one who just lets him be, because he's a supportive big brother

...Much to most of the other virtues' ever increasing stress

Is an advocate of "actions speak louder than words"

He's a serial head-patter

Will boop your nose when he notices you're a bit too lost in your thoughts

Azrael is normally the victim of his headpats and nose-boops

Since he makes it his job to know all that IS known, he finds some modicum of interest in that of the UNknown

Things like extraterrestrial beings for example. Basically, anything that didn't belong to any of the 3 worlds was within his scope of interest

If you check his YouTube history you'll see it's filled with UFO sightings, conspiracy theories, UMAs, etc.

Probably joined that raid in Area 51 while undercover—

Asks Gabriel to bring him souvenirs and pictures whenever his job takes him to a location near hotspots for UMAs, UFOs, and other strange otherworldly phenomena

Reminds Azrael every now and then to inform him if he ever ferries a soul that had come across any UMA and ask them about their encounter

As the virtue of chastity, it's up to him to teach the little cherubims about the birds and the bees as part of their training to become full-fledged angels

More often than not, his terminology and clinical way of explaining has traumatized most of the little ones…

...much to Raphael's increasing stress

"And then the man will place his pe*** inside the woman's va**** where he would start thrusting continu—"

What's worse is that he even has diagrams for it

So many little cherubims lost their innocence to Uriel-sensei…

He doesn't purposely try to annoy Raphael unlike Gabriel, it's just that his actions and way of going about things aren't the way most people would fo it and what's worse is that he unintentionally traumatizes people

And it's usually up to Raphael to do damage control on all the virtues' behalf

Raphael almost killed him that day he had to give that talk to Luke and his batch

"...What's wrong about telling them what happens between a man and a woman? It's biology and something that's done frequently by humans"

He doesn't see the point of beating around the bush when their purpose was to teach the new recruits about humanity and everything about them, including how they reproduce

Favorite food is pancakes…

...because they look like flying saucers

Uriel enjoys stargazing at night, not just to look at the heavenly bodies but to spot any UFOs if he's lucky enough

He isn't particularly bad at cooking, but he's not great either

Pancakes are what he's most confident in cooking and he makes the best darn ones in all of the celestial realm

If he's the only one left at home and you're sick, don't expect chicken soup and be ready instead for a stack of warm and fluffy pancakes topped with some butter and generous helping of syrup, whipped cream, berries, and etc.

When the day finally comes that he falls in love with someone...the 3 worlds will know true fear—

But legit though, all those millennia of being a single pringle and practicing so much restraint flies out the window when this man finds himself utterly and deeply in love with you

JP VA: Daisuke Ono

ENG VA: Matthew Mercer

ROMANTIC HCs

He's read so much about the different forms of love and has felt them all except for romantic love so he's a bit rattled at first

Probably coops himself up in his room for a day or two to get his bearings

When he does finally step foot out of his room, there isn't any obvious changes at first but you can't help but feel that there's something different about Uriel

Uriel is now a man on a mission

As perfectly as he executed his tasks for millennia, as fierce as he wielded his flaming sword during the Great War against the rebels, and as ruthless as he was when he faced the truly wicked…

…Uriel will have you

Of course, regardless of how much he wanted you to become his that didn't mean he suddenly turned into some sort of barbaric brute that kidnapped women for sport

He will study you so thoroughly that at times it almost feels like he knows you more than you know yourself

The little mannerisms you make during your everyday life that escape your notice? It's a given that Uriel has seen and already safely filed them away in his mind for future reference

"...She likes pointing with her lips?...Cute…" What he wouldn't give to catch you doing that while he was with you so he could partake of your lips as well—

Once he’s interested in you, only God knows at this point what has to be done for him to even lose a small bit of it

You have essentially become a key figure in Uriel’s world

Uriel always has you at the back of his mind to the point that it could even be called obsessive

However, he’s still the virtue of chastity so you don’t have to worry about him ever forcing himself upon you or anything of that sort

He’s super clingy and sorta weird, but he loves you and the last thing he wanted is for you to become sad because of him or anything else

Though he honestly can’t deny that seeing the myriad of expressions on your face, from happiness to sadness, to surprise, excitement, anger, and etc. was one of his favorite hobbies ever since falling for you

Despite his earnest wish to make you his, Uriel surprisingly takes a long time to even confess

He’s a perfectionist so it’s a given that he’ll take everything into account, including how he’ll make you fall for him first before he even thinks about confessing

Bothers Raphael for some “research material” on how to woo you a.k.a. borrow some romance manga despite Raph’s initial protests

For the sake of his own sanity, Raph begrudgingly lends Uri his stash of romance manga

It’s both hilarious and somewhat disturbing to see how taken he is with something other than work and UMAs

Amused: Michael, Cainabel, Gabriel, Simeon

Scared/Disturbed: Raphael, Luke

Neutral/Confused: Seraphiel, Azrael

Secretly plays the alto saxophone, but doesn’t deem his skill worthy enough for you to hear so he practices when he’s absolutely sure that no one is there to hear him when his skills aren’t yet up to his standards

Lowkey jealous when you hangout with the demon brothers and tries to find ways to distract you from hanging out with them

“ I seem to have seen a creature most extraordinary earlier. I believe it was one of the UMAs detailed in the tome for mysterious dwellers of the nether. Mayhaps you’d like to accompany me on a hunt? ”

His face is as straight-laced as it always is, but if you knew him long enough and looked closer, you’d notice that his ears seemed to have the slightest twinge of redness to them.

Honestly speaking, he tries to be a smooth and cool boi when it comes to you, but this dork seems to lose all his tact when faced with the radiance of your eyes and the intensity of your smile

With how long it takes him to make everything perfect before he woo’s you, time and space itself will cease to exist before he finally deems himself ready

So you have to do the wooing yourself and show him that you love all of him, imperfections and quirkiness included

[sailtoafarawayland]

The Things We Don’t Say - Ch 2 (modern AU - actors)

Summary:  No one is perfect, and sometimes, two people are just so perfectly flawed that those pieces fit together and make something beautiful. When sparks fly between two leads of a new hit show, is there a happy ending in sight, or will their own mistakes overshadow any chance they had at something worth fighting for.

Rated: Explicit    

Warnings:   This is a joyfully Captain Swan story, but there are a few warnings. It does start with Emma/Neal and Killian/Milah. I don't write non-CS, so there won't be any sexual anything happening 'on screen', so to speak, between those couples, but I won't guarantee there may not be a mention. This story contains numerous episodes of cheating. If any of these things make you squick or are not your bag, carry on.

AO3 - FF

- or read below the cut -

As always, let me know if you’d like to be tagged (or removed) for further updates.

Tag list: @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @teamhook @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @kmomof4​ 

Chapter Two

Killian sighed into the hard press of his fingers against his tired eyes, listening to the soft hum of the elevator as it climbed to his floor. He’d look like a drunken raccoon by the time he got into the apartment, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. An early morning shoot that had dragged late into the day left him feeling more dead than alive, and he hadn’t bothered with his normal clean up on set. The time saved getting back to his bed was the bright side—the downside was a few fans had recognized him when he jumped out of his uber, his trademark eyeliner and messily styled hair a giveaway. He’d managed a few weak smiles as they snapped pictures and hurried on his way, taking a few strange turns and slipping a spare beanie he kept in his pocket over his head. That, a popped collar, and hunched shoulders normally did the trick. Being famous certainly had its perks, but crazed fans knowing where he lived certainly wasn’t one of them.

It was usually simpler to drive to set, but lately he’d been to worn out to trust himself behind the wheel. The past two weeks had been a nightmare of last minute reshoots and publicity, and he couldn’t wait for it to all be over.

The elevator doors slid open, Killian staring at them for a moment before he realized her was staring at the familiar artwork that spanned the hall outside his condo. Desperately trying to blink away sleep, he trudged down the hall, leaning his forehead against the cool metal door for a brief second before unlocking it and heading in.  

God, he hoped Milah was content to have a quiet night in.

Everything was blessedly dark and quiet when he stepped into the entryway, shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it on the waiting hook, his boots next as he eased them off his aching feet and lined them up neatly below the jacket. He rolled his neck and stretched, wrinkling his nose as he realized a fifteen-hour day filming had left him less than fresh.

A hot shower and bed—that was the plan. With any luck, and the darkened apartment seemed to be on his side, Milah would already be stretched beneath the covers and he could slip in behind her and fall asleep pressed to her warmth. It would be the perfect start to a weekend otherwise free of engagements and obligations.

“Milah?” he whispered, not wanting to startle her if she was relaxing in the living area.

There was always the chance she’d gone out with friends earlier and wouldn’t be home until late. It was a Friday, after all.

His back ached as he stretched his shirt over his head, balling it up and launching it toward the hamper as he walked into the bedroom. A glaring light greeted him from around the corner and he realized that Milah was indeed home, but not where he’d hoped. It looked as if a tornado had blown through the walk-in closet—every pair of heels she owned were tossed onto the floor and the chaise was covered with a haphazard pile of glittering dresses. Milah was standing in front of the mirrored wall, a sequined, black strapless number pulled over her body but left unzipped as she adjusted a pair of large earrings, her brow furrowed.

“Oh, thank god your home,” she huffed, flashing an annoyed smile over her shoulder as she slid her second earring in. “This zipper is absolutely impossible.”

He smiled and stepped into the closet, taking care to avoid the dresses that had sloughed onto the carpeting.

“I’m happy to help, darling,” he assured, catching the nearly invisibly zipper and easing it up her back. There were certainly nights he would have coaxed her into agreement that off was the far better option, but tonight he was more than happy to get her dressed and out the door if that was what she so desired. “Headed anywhere special?”

“It’s that opening of the new club—you know, the one with the glass ceiling that everyone has been going on about. I mentioned it the other night—good lord, Killian, you positively reek.”

Killian flashed a tired smile in the mirror, but her frown only deepened.

“Honestly, Killian, you can’t go out like that. You’ll need to have a quick shower.”

Killian’s brows echoed her own displeasure as he realized what she was implying.

“Did you want my company, as well?”

“Do you even listen when I speak? Sometimes I wonder. I told you two nights ago that Lara and William were expecting us. They’ve barely seen you.”

Killian couldn’t remember a Lara, but he seemed to recall a bright, friendly man with reddish-blond hair who may have been a William. No matter who they were, he had no interest in spending the evening with them, and even less in spending the evening on his feet in an obnoxious club.

“It’s been a long day, Milah—every day for the past couple weeks has, and I’m exhausted—”

“You’re absolutely right, Killian, it has been a long day, a long few weeks, and I’m sorry that I thought I might get to spend some time with you at the end of all of it. How foolish of me,” she snapped, and Killian felt the words like a slap to his face.

“No, you’re right. It’s—I’m sorry. I’ll have a quick rinse and get dressed.”

Milah beamed at him, adjusting her hair and checking that everything was just as she wanted it to be in the mirror. Killian pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder, the warmth of her smile washing away a bit of his exhaustion.

He wanted her to be happy, and perhaps the past few weeks had been more difficult for her than she let on.

“It will be a lovely night, I promise,” she said, shoving him gently toward the bathroom as she turned to reappraise the pile of heels.

* * * 

Despite Milah��s initial enthusiasm that he’d agreed to join her and two people he most definitely did not remember—apparently William had brown hair and was quite pretentious—it was not a lovely night. The hot shower and the warmth of Milah’s arm in his had been enough to fool him into think it might be the tiniest bit enjoyable—after all, it had been some time since he’d been to a club—but he’d been wrong, very wrong.

Everything from the moving lights to the music to the stench of hot bodies pressed against one another was giving him a pounding headache, and he slid down further into his chair, nursing a rum and casting about for Milah, wherever she’d gone. He’d wanted to give her a nice evening at his side, but he hadn’t been able to find it in him to join her on the dance floor—probably because his feet had blisters from filming in his costume boots all day—and she hadn’t been able to find it in her to forgive him.

He’d been able to keep track of her at first, but soon she was lost in the crush of bodies and he was lost in his rum—at least it helped dull the sounds a bit.

He didn’t know if it was the insane schedule he was booked to finish shooting for his latest movie, or just the lack of free time, but nothing felt quite right lately, and he was worried a change was needed. Milah was clearly unhappy with his schedule, with how much distance it put between them. He found himself wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad time to step back a bit, to get away and really dedicate some time to the two of them.

It was a question he’d come back to more than once in the past few months, and as much as he wanted to feel that doing so was the right answer, his gut kept telling him it wasn’t.

He loved her, he certainly didn’t want her to be miserable, but the thought of missing out on opportunities at the high point of his career, it did worry him. Liam had worked more than any person should have to help put him through school, and he’d only ever wanted happiness for his little brother. Liam was a big enough man to know that for Killian that meant acting, even if it was a hard path. If Killian were to step back now, would that be doing justice to his brother’s sacrifice. What if he started turning down offers and never bounced back from it?

He searched the dance floor once more, but there was no sign of his Milah. Knowing she was probably hurt enough to ignore him for the rest of the night, he whipped out his phone and started scrolling through emails, most of them simply things his manager had already spoken with him about over the phone. It wasn’t until he scrolled farther back, nearly hypnotized by the small boxes flying along the screen, that a flagged email came to his attention and he stopped. The details were familiar, and he only just remembered the conversation he’d had with Cora.

It had been an offer for the lead role in a new series, but he’d turned it down due to the filming location. He’d been worried about having to uproot Milah, but scanning through everything once more, he found himself second-guessing his first decision. Perhaps it would be the answer they needed, and the more he thought about it, the more it appealed to him personally.

Maine was certainly quiet and would allow for more quality time together—and the pay was bloody obscene, which never hurt. According to Cora, the role had been written specifically for him. He wondered how the showrunners had taken it when he declined.

His finger hovered over reply.

He should probably discuss it will Milah first, but then thoughts of Liam tugged at his tired mind and he reread the arc for the lead role, each sentence making him more inclined to see if taking it on was still a possibility.

He’d earned his name and place in Hollywood by becoming the face of playboys and scoundrels, all of his characters well-known for their rakish appeal, but to be honest, he was starting to become concerned he may not be offered anything more diverse if he didn’t branch out soon. This role—this would be something different, something Liam would be proud of. The series treaded water somewhere between a fantasy show and a piece that examined the very fabric of what is real, the main character a man who suffered great personal tragedy and loss only to have his independence and health rocked.

The more Killian looked at it, the more he knew it was for him, the words swimming with possibility...or rum. He didn't know what about his previous roles had drawn the showrunners to him of all their choices, but for the first time in a while, he really wanted something.

He really wanted this.

A feeling of certainty settled in his gut and he shot off a reply to Cora.

K: I want this, do what you need to do.

The message sent and he almost expected to look up and see Milah hovering over him, a flushed smile on her cheeks from dancing, her hair falling in tendrils around her face, but his table is still empty and the dance floor is still a writhing mass of faceless people.

Raising his glass in a lonely toast, he took another drag of rum and closed his eyes.

He wants to dream that she’ll be as happy as he is, that’s all he wants for her.

[roc-thoughtblog]

Sense and Sensibility Readthrough Part 20

Chapter 23, Pages 119-126

Previously, poor Elinor... four years... poor Elinor... four years...

Having given it a little thought, it occured to me that the twist from last chapter worked extremely well for something that I would have expected to occur narratively anyway. And I have complete certainty that it's because the twist went completely overboard by a shocking, twisty margin. Four years!

That's definitely something I'm keeping very close in consideration. Noted, circled and underlined. Just because the basic element of your narrative twist may be heavily foreshadowed or just predictable, doesn't mean the whole part of it has to be. There can and probably should be more than one layer of twist to your twist.

In fact, isn't this a form of misdirection in itself? Put people at ease with something that could be interpreted as simple, then throw something else out from behind it. Wait, now I'm just describing the basic element of a twist... a general principle of playing with expectations... Hmm, anyway!

Readthrough below.

Chapter 23

HOWEVER SMALL Elinor's general dependence on Lucy's veracity might be, it was impossible for her on serious reflection to suspect it in the present case,

IN THE PRESENT CASE? WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN MS. AUSTEN? Is this just a general statement about her unwillingness to question anything right in this moment? Or is it also a foreboding statement that Lucy's word will not be trustworthy in the future? Ms. Austen are you deliberately toying with me? D:

Elinor embarks aboard a long train of thought. The facts as presently established are thus:

There is altogether too much evidence of Lucy's claims being truthful; ergo they are engaged and all evidence presented is true.

She wasn't alone in believing Edward held feelings for her. Her family (supportive) and his sister (unsupportive) both acknowledged the case, so it's not any personal delusion or her own, or positive bias on the part of her family.

Trying to reconcile those two premises, she can draw various possible solutions that might satisfy both:

Eddie has been deliberately playing with her heart. :(

Eddie has unintentionally and hopelessly succumbed to Elinor's affection. :?

Eddie's engagement with Lucy was going nowhere to begin with. :/

I'm personally gonna float a fourth possibility, that Edward forgot Lucy Steele existed until she returned to his life recently to get him to fulfill his engagement promise, and now he's in a pickle. Not going easy on him though, the only scenario in which he doesn’t bear a significant burden of responsibility in this mess is the one where, iunno, Lucy’s been blackmailing him the whole time or something.

The youthful infatuation of nineteen would naturally blind him to everything but her beauty and good nature; but the four succeeding years [...] must have opened his eyes to her defects

Oh, so is this why Mr. Palmer was introduced with the following (lemme dig it up) line?

His temper might perhaps be a little soured by finding, like many of others of his sex, that through some unaccountable bias towards beauty, he was the husband of a very silly woman - but she knew this kind of blunder was too common for any sensible man to be lastingly hurt by it.

When I was reading it I thought it was coming uncharacteristically close to laying a man's responsbility over his own emotions at the feet of his wife instead (even if Mr. Palmer was immediately following diagnosed with class angst instead). I suppose the real purpose of this line would be to prep the reader, so that the possibility of hasty engagements on Edward's part seem reasonably expected, and also to, well, suggest at the possible result of such a hasty, valueless engagement being followed through?

I know there’s a Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, is there a Sense and Sensibility and Alternate Timelines?

Well, either way, I'm given to conclude that the Palmer chapter really does a lot more to set up pacing and expectations than I give it credit for. Though I still don’t think I like these particular expectations very much.

Also, Elinor, as mature as you project yourself to be, you think these thoughts of foolhardy youth as though you're not also presently nineteen right now. :'D

Also geez, you're really picking on Lucy hard for her lack of education, which has so far been presented much more a lack of opportunity than anything else. I noticed while reading the Other Stories in Susan and Stories that many of the protagonists were definitely a little on the not-like-other-girls side of the spectrum. I always love when education is valued, but it does make me uncomfortable when I see it presented as though a virtue in itself, rather than the product of opportunity and environment.

I'm still holding out on general judgement of Lucy as I haven't really felt like I've been introduced to her outside of Elinor's lens. There's a sort of tell vs. show element to reliability of information in the narrative voice I've been sitting on; one where I've been told a lot about Lucy from Elinor's feelings and thoughts (that she's artful or selfish), but I haven't actually seen Lucy behave in any way I would interpret as more than some level of insensitive.

It's really hard for me to get a read on Lucy or Edward. Unlike with Willoughby or Brandon, their actions as depicted do not immediately align with evaluations of their character made by the Dashwood sisters. Lucy has been very little shown to have done anything to earn Elinor's harsher assessments of her character (except insensitivity). Edward, I don't even know what about him I can take at any sort of face value except that he's ambitionless.

As these considerations occured to her in painful succession, she wept for him, more than for herself.

Oh, Elinor... She's worried about how Edward must feel, that his family could possibly support his engagement to Lucy when she is in a worse position than Elinor in every regard.

Supported by the conviction of having done nothing to merit her present unhappiness,

Oh, Elinor... she's rationalised away her natural freedom to be unhappy for unhappiness' sake. And she puts the mask back on. No telling her family. She will take this burden on very alone indeed.

It'll have to be up to Marianne to save her, on the day that Marianne finally throws a fit over Edward's mysterious lack of flirting. Oh, and what about their little moment chapters back where they shared a joke over Willoughby? Oh it will hurt if they ever have a real confrontation... :(

and that Marianne was internally dwelling on the perfections of a man, of whose whole heart she felt thoroughly possessed,

oH NO! Well if you're going to say that! If Edward was four years engaged then what's Willoughby going to have been? Secretly married ten years?? I forgot Marianne is still pining hard. Wait what's even going to happen when Edward and Willoughby meet as promised?

"Hi, I'm not marrying a Dashwood sister." "Hi, it turns out I'm also not marrying a Dashwood sister." "What was the purpose of our meeting again?" "Breaking Dashwood hearts solidarity?"

What is even happening? Please come back Brandon, at least your secret daughter can't break hearts. Also because you can't break hearts in general because noone loves you. Wait, ouch. Sorry. Also because your daughter might become friends with Margaret!

Oh Elinor, she's also justifiably disinclined to tell her family anything anyway because she knows they'll make a gigantic deal out of it, and probably Say Things that she doesn't want to hear. I mean, almost certainly Eddie has done you dirty here Elinor, if at bare minimum through negligence in communication. He's gonna deserve some of that tongue lashing.

Well, now that Elinor has come to terms with her situation, she has new objectives. To talk to Lucy again, and in doing so:

Discover the true depth of Lucy's feelings for Edward

Estimate Edward's regard for herself by gauging Lucy's jealousy towards her (HA!)

Convince Lucy somehow that no, she was never interested in Edward, haha, what a funny joke, I am not hurt or in pain at all. Didn't have a minor breakdown in front of you yesterday, nope. Perfectly fine, no feelings here.

Ah yes, the "What doesn't kill me NEVER HAPPENED" approach. Maybe in a couple of years she might even manage to convince herself she had never loved Edward at all, or indeed, anyone ever?

Apparently for all of Sir Middleton's parties, it can be surprisingly hard to get one-on-one time. Yeah, I get that. It takes Elinor some time before she can speak to Lucy privately again: at a party Sir Middleton arranged but is not attending. Heh.

"Insipidity." That was a word I wanted for the past few days but could only remember "vapid." Also wow, the narrative is pulling no punches over how insipid, boring and generally valueless this gathering and it's conversations are. Elinor's usually polite about things but internally she has no patience anymore. She needs to talk to Lucy and everything about this party is very much Getting In The Way.

So some party shenanigans happen and Lady Middleton is very easily manipulated as usual through appeals to her motherhood, to provide space for Lucy and Elinor to talk. Lucy is trying so hard to finish a basket for little Annamaria before tomorrow you see, and Oh! It is so much work, surely Elinor needs to help her! Works like a charm, Lady Middleton lets them out of card games and leaves them right alone to chat at a worktable.

Marianne just up and ditches Lady Middleton for the piano haha, with all the grace and tact of... iunno, Marianne I guess. Zero subtlety. "I hate cards, piano time starts now." Narrative says she's lost in her own thoughts and emotions while playing, I choose to interpret that as "angrily and noisily."

But it provides the appropriate background noise cover for Elinor and Lucy to talk with some approximation of privacy, which seems to follow directly in the next chapter.

Well, this has been a chapter devoted to Elinor's processing of... last chapter. Considering the weight of some such revelations, yeah, there was a lot for Elinor to process.

I feel as though I could go on to make some observations on the differences between Elinor and Marianne's approaches to processing heartbreak, but, they're just so... comically and wholly contrastive I wouldn't know where to begin except in broad terms. Marianne lets it all out, expressing her internal turmoil to almost performative levels and with complete emotional conviction. Elinor suppresses everything she can't rationalise away, and she tries to rationalise away everything, up to and including her own personal right to be upset.

Also it seems unusual to have a chapter immediately succeed from the events of the previous chapter as the next one does, so I imagine the hits aren't slowing yet. No idea what else could come out right now though.

[overheardatthecontinental]

Talk Chapter 4

AO3

In which Helen fights for control from her kidnappers and John is met with deadends.

(The action will pick up in the next chapter

Waking up in a cell is a little easier the second time around Helen discovers.

She wakes up, freezing again, on the floor. Not that there was any other place to be. The cell was still empty.

The guards were different when she woke up but she barely paid them any attention. Instead, she managed to crawl to the little stall in the corner of her cell. Indeed, she was grateful to find a bathroom. The contents of her stomach were emptied into the small toilet and she wondered, idly, if it was the sedative that made her feel so.

She wished there was a window, or any other sort of indication of what time it was. What day it was.

Was it still Saturday? She wasn’t sure.

She wondered if it was Sunday and what would happen tomorrow morning when clients started arriving at her office to find it locked and empty?

Priorities, she tells herself.

No, she wasn’t worried about a few people missing their appointments. Not when her hands were still bound together and her throat burned from the acid of her vomit.

They’d live.

And so would she.

John was coming, she knows. It may take him some time to find her. Helen was certain she was hidden somewhere that wouldn’t be easy for him to find. But she was also positive that John wouldn’t stop until she was safe.

That brought her some comfort.

But even with that knowledge, she wasn’t going to stop trying to get herself out of the mess.

She tries to engage the new guards in conversation, but they kept their mouths shut. Probably warned by DeLuca, she thinks.

Still, one of them disappears upstairs and returns with a tv dinner that he slides through the bars to her, along with a bottle of water. They undo the bindings at her wrists but refuse to give her silverware. While she can only imagine what other uses John would find for a spoon or a fork, she wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with a utensil in a fight.

At least DeLuca isn’t planning on starving her. That was a plus. Especially since John would kill him either way.

She closes her eyes.

John was probably a wreck. He didn’t do well with things being out of his control and his emotional regulation skills were lacking.

This, she thinks, is really going to stunt the progress she’s made with him. Months of building up to him addressing his issues with self-esteem and his own feelings of self-hatred, only to have her kidnapped by his enemies.

It would take months more to work through the blame he was going to feel and probably years before he could even start to forgive himself.

The guards change not long after she wakes up. The new guards are told: “She’s been fed. Mostly quiet. DeLuca says not to interact with her.”

They listen. They ignore her attempts at small talk and don’t even look at her. The only moment of interaction comes when they hand her another meal a few hours later with a gruff, “Here.”

She falls asleep again after she eats. It’s almost too cold to sleep but she manages, blaming the exhaustion on the sedatives.

When she wakes up again, the guards have changed.

Nick, the man who had sedated her is back, along with someone new. The kid is younger than Nick. She’d place him in his early twenties at best. His face was still a little soft around the edges and the scarring from acne hadn’t found its way to clearing up just yet.

“Morning, boys.” She says, “Or is it night?”

“It’s two pm.”

“Hey!” Nick says, “DeLuca said not to talk to her.”

“What harm will talking do?” The new kid asks, looking over at Helen with a naïve sort of interest.

Nick shrugs, “Guess she’s some sort of psychiatrist.”

Wrong, Helen thinks, but doesn’t comment.

“She got inside DeLuca’s head yesterday. Kinda eerie, to be honest. Started spouting all this stuff about his parents and I guess it was true, because DeLuca was pissed. Bastard still hasn’t come back.”

Helen resists the urge to smirk at that.

“Why didn’t he just kill her? What’s she in for?”

Helen perks up a bit. She knew, obviously, that she was here as leverage or bait or something altogether nefarious to entrap John. But the more she could figure out about the details, the better off she would be.

“You ever hear of John Wick?” Nick asks, shuffling the deck of cards.

“Heard of him?” The poor kid almost sounds excited, “The man’s a fucking legend! I heard he killed three guys who started shit-talking him in the bar with a fucking pencil!”

Helen hadn’t heard that little tidbit, but she wasn’t surprised. John’s versatility was arguably his greatest strength. It made sense that it converted to weapons.

Nick hums, “Yep. And that’s his girl.” He throws a thumb in her direction.

The kid’s head flies over, staring at Helen in shock. She gives him a finger wave and the kid looks back to Nick, “That’s the boogeyman’s girl?”

Nick nods and starts to toss out the cards, “DeLuca’s been talking about getting a jump on the Camorra ever since he took over the Syndicate. Can’t help but wonder if this is his ploy.”

John had referenced the Camorra before, a number of times, but she couldn’t recall him ever mentioning the Syndicate. Nevertheless, she now had a name to put to the organization and its face that held her captive.

“But, it’s the boogeyman! You don’t mess with the boogeyman!”

“Sound advice,” Helen pipes in, “I suggest you relay the message to DeLuca before he gets you all killed.”

The kid pales and Nick shakes his head, “Don’t listen to her, Frankie.”

But Frankie was already listening. She just needed one in. “He’s probably right. I wouldn’t want to spend your last hours on this Earth in fear. Play your game.” Helen tries her best to give her a sweet smile. “Have fun with your time.”

“Hours?” he echoes.

“I mean, maybe you’ll get lucky. You might have a few days before John finds this place and razes it to the ground.”

“Disengage, Frankie.” Nick warns but even he looks uneasy.

John had mentioned his reputation a few times, but this was the first time that Helen had ever seen it in action. She knew John was not one for dramatizing but still, it was a little strange to see grown men becoming uneasy at the very mention of his name.

Frankie lowers his voice but she can still hear him echoing in the empty basement. “Look, man, you know I’m all in for the cause but I don’t know if I want to be involved in this.” He shoots Helen a glance, “I don’t want the Boogeyman coming after me.”

She almost felt sorry for the kid. Rationally, she could probably justify his actions. Write it off as a kid looking for a place to fit in, a world to survive in. He was mousy and largely unintimidating. The idea of mafiaso protection probably appealed to him, gave him space to live. But, she acknowledges, it’s harder to feel bad for someone who is keeping you locked in a cage.

“It’s a little late for that, Frankie. You and Nick are already involved.”

Nick shifts uncomfortably at the use of his name. Good, she thinks. She wants him to be anxious. She wants them both to afraid of what was to come.

Poor Frankie hadn’t even been here five minutes, she thinks, and he was already ready to bolt. She had a foot in the door, now she just had to hold her ground and push through.

“Look,” Helen offers him a small smile, “You seem like a good kid. Single mom?”

His eyes widen and he nods. “How did you know?”

An educated guess, but she doesn’t elaborate. “You did whatever you had to do to help her. How many siblings you got?”

“Don’t—” Nick tries but it’s too late.

“Two.”

“Still in school?”

Again, he nods.

“Good.” Helen says, “I hope they won’t have to drop out when you aren’t around. It’s hard for kids who drop out to catch back up. Sometimes you never do. Right, Nick?”

Nick tenses immediately.

She hums and closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Nick, man—”

“She’s just getting into your head. Let it go.”

Helen huffs a small laugh at that.

“I don’t know. How’d she know about my mom? And me dropping out? I didn’t say anything that—”

“It’s all just lucky guesswork. Calm down.”

If her eyes were open, she would have rolled them. “Guesswork, huh?” She glances up. It’s not much, she thinks, but it’s an opening, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to make a little wager about that?”

“Not a chance.” Nick is quick to say but she can see the curiosity behind them. It’s reflected in Frankie who, with less experience and far less intelligence is quick to ask, “What kind of wager?”

Nick shoots him a glare but doesn’t cut her off.

“I’ll read you. Both of you. I’ll analyze your lives based on what I’ve already seen of you. And, if I’m wrong, on either of you, I’ll shut up. I won’t say anything for the rest of the night.”

“And if you’re right?” Nick asks.

“I get a phone call.”

“Not a chance.” Okay. She expected that. She could compromise.

“A text, then. I’ll keep it short. No more than a minute.”

“DeLuca would kill us.” Frankie says, shaking his head.

“DeLuca doesn’t have cameras here.” She gestures around, “And I wouldn’t be worried about DeLuca killing you when John’s out there looking for me.” She pauses, “I’ll sweeten the pot. Win or lose, I’ll ask John not to kill you.”

She’s met with silence as Frankie looks to Nick to take the lead.

Nick looks indecisive and she takes that into account. She watches the way he glances towards his phone. He’s considering it.

“You’re both part of this.” Helen leans forward, “DeLuca is arrogant enough to think he can get out of this without backlash. You’ve got to know that won’t be the case. John will hunt him down to the ends of the Earth, along with anyone else who played a part in this. Your only shot of making it through this alive is for me to interfere.”

She watches him swallow. Nick isn’t stupid. He’s probably the smartest of all the kidnappers she met but, Christ, he is lost.

John was like that, once.

Desperate for a way out, unable to find one.

“Will he listen to you?” Nick asks finally, “If you ask him to spare us, will he listen?”

She can’t make the promise. Truth be told, she’s never seen John truly angry at anyone other than himself. She doesn’t know how this is going to go.

“I am the only chance at stopping him.” She says finally. Not a promise or a guarantee. The honest truth, if ever there was one.

“Either way, win or lose?” Nick pushes.

“I give you my word.”

The moment lasts an eternity as she holds Nick’s gaze.

“I won’t give you a minute. You can’t touch the phone. You tell me the number, I type in the message. You get to send one word.”

“Three.”

He considers it, then he nods and she breathes easy.

“Start with Frankie.” He says and there comes that guard again. Keeping himself safe. Protecting his secrets.

She suspects but she isn’t entirely sure.

Frankie is an easier read, anyway. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

Nick’s reactions to what she says to Frankie will give her everything she needs.

Helen exhales and looks to the younger boy.

She takes in the clothes, the demeanor. The way he sits, the little bit of excitement in his eyes that proved just how naïve he was. How in over his head he was.

“We’ve established the single mom. You’re the oldest. Different dad’s all around. Your mom’s a dreamer. She kept hoping that each guy would be different. They’d care. They’d stay. But they never did.

“You get that from her,” Helen softens her voice, “that tendency to daydream. It keeps you going on the bad days, but it also keeps you stuck. What do consequences matter when everything will be okay in the end, right?

“But you were smart. You did shit in school, but you were quick to pick things up and acing tests made up for the fact you probably never did you homework. But your siblings do. You prioritized their work above yours, made sure they did well. Because it was too late for you, even then, wasn’t it?”

Frankie’s mouth opens but she keeps going.

“Three boys,” That much is a guess but the subtle intake of breath from Frankie tells her she’s right, “Three growing boys need food. And clothes. Mom was running herself to the ground to keep going. So, you stepped up. Because you’re the oldest, and because you love your mom. And, partly, because she and your brothers are all you have.”

Frankie looks like he’s going to pass out at any minute but it’s Nick she’s watching, out of the corner of her eye.

Nick’s leg is shaking, bouncing with nervous energy and he’s staring at his phone, as if it’s the only thing in the world giving him strength.

She’s willing to stake everything that whatever his lock screen shows is his reason to get up each and every morning.

Turning her attention back to Frankie, she continues, “So you wound up here. It’s local and Italian, so it could be worse in your mother’s eyes. It doesn’t stop her from worrying, though.

“But you have your uses. You’re not street smart like the rest of these guys here, but just clever enough that you see things they don’t. Finding patterns and solving puzzles. It makes up for the fact you’re shit in a fight and you probably can’t even shoot straight.”

Frankie’s face breaks into a huge grin, “Holy shit! That was dead on! How did you do that?” He leaves his chair and comes to sit on the ground outside her cell. “I didn’t know psychologists did that.”

Her face softens, “Most don’t. Technically, we’re supposed to avoid making assumptions but, after a while, you learn to pick up on little things.”

Nick narrows his eyes, “Still seems like guess work to me. The fact we’re both dropouts isn’t written on our faces. You guessed based on the fact we’re involved in Syndicate.”

“It gave me an indication of your socioeconomic status,” she admits, “But, in Frankie’s case, it was the oldest brother, single mother combination that made me go in that direction. I used to do quite a bit of family therapy. There are roles that often come up in enmeshed families,” she explains, looking back at Frankie, “things like enablers who allow everything to happen, or scapegoats, who get blamed for everything.”

Helen tries to watch Nick’s reaction to the scapegoat. And sure enough, he stares at his locked screen.

“What am I?” Frankie asks.

“The Hero.” His chest puffs up at the label, “You try to fix everything, even the things that can’t ever be put back together. Which is how I knew you dropped out to help your mom. It’s what you do.”

“And Nick?” He asks, gesturing back to where Nick sat at the table.

Curious, but tense. Disbelieving, but with a hint of worry.

He had the most to lose from this expenditure.

“Nick,” she says softly, “was the scapegoat. And that’s a difficult place to be because you can do everything right but it doesn’t matter. I imagine you got in trouble a lot as a kid, didn’t you, Nick? You didn’t follow the expectations lined out for you. In your parent’s eyes, you made the wrong choices. Had the wrong friends. Played with the wrong toys.”

“There are no wrong toys.” Frankie says, tilting his head in confusion.

“You’re right.” Helen replies, not looking away from Nick, who is now tapping his fingers on the table in an attempt to appease the nervous energy. “But there were in your parent’s eyes. So you tried to appease them, to do everything right. Just how they wanted but you had already made your bed and they never quite got over it.”

Helen has to close her eyes at the flash of pain she sees in Nick’s eyes.

And she’s careful with her phrasing because she won’t be the one to bring it into the open, even if she needs to communicate to him that she knows his deepest secret. The one he pretends doesn’t exist.

“I’ll admit, I am unsure of what happened. But they found out. Maybe you told them, or they saw something they shouldn’t have, but they found out.”

“Stop.”

“They found out, and you lost everything.”

Nick’s hand reaches for his phone and his fist tightens around it, like a lifeline.

“I don’t understand.” Frankie says, looking between them.

Helen ignores him. “You didn’t have a choice but to leave school. You had to support yourself. Take care of yourself. And you found this place. The Syndicate. A family in its own right and they took you in. But this time, you were more careful. You didn’t let it show.”

“Stop!” Nick shouts and Helen does. His face is red, his chest rising and falling.

Helen swallows but stares Nick down until he brings is eyes to meet hers. “There is nothing wrong with you, Nick.”

“You don’t know shit.”

“I don’t know the pain of what you’ve been through. Your experience is your own. But I know what it’s like to be afraid and to feel trapped. And I know that nothing is going to change until you learn to accept who you are.”

Nick closes his eyes and rubs them.

And Frankie, bless his stupid fucking heart, looks back to Nick in a kind of understanding. “Oh.” He says and he looks to Helen and then again to his comrade, “Dude, I know how this place can be, but if it helps, I don’t care one way or the other. My middle brother is gay.”

Nick winces at the word and looks past Frankie to Helen.

“What gave it away?” He asks, voice heavy with emotion.

“Nothing that anyone else will pick up on.” She eases his worries, “I’ve been a therapist for nearly fifteen years. I know what to look for.”

Nick looks to Frankie, “You can’t fucking t—”

“I won’t say anything.” Frankie is quick to jump in. “I see how the world treats Gio and he’s only in high school.”

“The world can be a cruel place. As humans, we tend to have a hard time distinguishing what is perceived as normal and what is perceived as right. But we all have a responsibility to challenge those beliefs and I am sorry that your parents couldn’t do that for you.”

“I wasn’t a bad kid.” Nick mutters.

“Of course, you weren’t.”

“I just wanted my parents to love me.”

“Some parents aren’t made to be parents. And the fact they couldn’t get over their narrow world view has nothing to do with you.”

“I can’t come out.”

“You don’t have to.” Helen tells him, “You can live the rest of your life pretending to be someone you’re not. Half the world does, anyway. But I can guarantee you that hiding who you are isn’t going to do anything to protect your kid.”

Nick’s eyes widen and he looks to Helen in shock.

“You have a kid? How did that even happen?” Frankie asks.

“Tequila.”

“We’ve all been there.” Helen mutters, lifting her water bottle in a silent salute. “The guys start asking too many questions about why you never date, never have a girlfriend. They start teasing at the truth and you go out and find somebody. Anybody. And things happen, because things always do. And the next thing you know, you’re trapped in another web of lies. It’s easier to play along than to find a way out and, eventually, that web of lies starts to feel like home. And right now, it’s fine. But webs will always begin to unravel. I’d suggest you do it on your own terms rather than watch your world implode.”

Nick shivers, “You really need to stop.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to shut off, sometimes.”

“I can see why DeLuca sedated you.” He mutters and grabs his phone, “A deal is a deal. What’s the number?”

Helen tries not to look to relieved as Nick brings up a new text message. She recites John’s number, forever thankful that she memorized it. Just in case.

He types it in and shakes his head, “I take it this is Wick’s direct line?”

She nods, “Yes.”

Nick exhales, “I’m really fucking glad our shift is almost done. What do you want to say?”

Three words, she muses. They had agreed on three words.

She didn’t know if he already knew where she was, or who had her. Helen didn’t want to waste her one shot giving John information he already had but, she liked to think if he knew where she was, he would already be here.

“DeLuca of Syndicate.” She decides and hopes against hope that it is enough.

….

Dead ends.

After more than a day of searching, John had only been met with dead ends and more questions.

Winston was right. The answer to who would want to destroy the Camorra was apparently everybody. Which meant the only other factor they had to go on was by means.

Who had the resources to stalk and evade John Wick?

Again, the answer was more substantial than he knew what to do with.

They all had money. Especially, the higher up the food chain they went.

While Winston had been able to clear the highest-ranking officials of the High Table, there were still hundreds of smaller echelons to eliminate.

It hadn’t been going well.

John had limited the search to the Camorra’s immediate allies and their top adversaries, local and foreign. Winston was running it now but John could tell he wasn’t hopeful.

It had never occurred to John just how far the Underworld went. Aside from the major players, there were crime families and gangs that all held some sort of stake in his world. And New York was the fucking capital of it all. Anyone and everyone had ties to the city.

The Technician was still there, in his room. He had used the twin bed to catch a few hours of sleep while they waited for the phone to be activated and John had kept vigil. He watched the phone, waiting for any sort of call or message that wasn’t going to come. He watched the computer, hoping that something would pop up.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing, Mister Wick. If this guy had a modicum of common sense, he would have ditched her original phone and just taken the SIM card. He’ll probably keep the phone off until he intends to use it. Might even be removing the card and only using that when he needs it. Until it’s turned on, we can’t do anything.”

It had taken every ounce of self-control John had not to smash the Technician’s computer. To break the table the way he had done the chair.

He wanted to break something. Needed to see, and hear, and feel something smash apart. Something else had to break before he did.

Thirty-six hours.

It had been thirty-six hours since he had gotten the phone call and he was still no closer to finding Helen.

His stomach churned.

He’d never had trouble eating before or after a mission before. Nothing rattled him. Not blood, or entrails, or the crack of breaking bones. He could see brain matter spattered along a floor and go for a cheeseburger right after.

But this uncertainty, the not knowing… it was killing him.

Had she eaten?

There was a frost over the weekend. Was she someplace warm?

Was she scared?

Did she know he was coming?

He hears the door open and jumps to his feet, heading to the main room. The Technician was hunched over the laptop, needlessly running security cameras and traffic footage near Helen’s home.

John feared it wouldn’t be enough.

A table full of weapons brought by the Sommelier is prepped near the door that Winston is walking through.

He has a bag ready in case Winston is unable to find anything. In case he has to go after the D’Antonio’s.

Winston shakes his head at John, almost in defeat.

“We need to reframe our parameters.” The Manager says, “It’s still too broad.”

John leans against the table. He hadn’t been expecting much but anything would be better than the constant attempts to narrow their search.

What was he missing? What was he leaving out?

What if he went too narrow and ended up missing Helen?

“Have you slept, Jonathan?”

It’s the third time they’ve had this conversation.

He’s tried. But he can’t. Every time he closes his eyes, he can see Helen, bound and passed out on the cold floor.

He can’t remember how many coffee’s he had but it’s keeping him going.

“I suppose I should be grateful you’ve showered.” Winston says, obviously still disapproving. “Still, you won’t be any good to her if you’re strung out on caffeine.”

“I’ve tried, Winston. I just…” He trails off.

This is your fault. You should have protected her better. You should never have showed weakness. Should never have gone to her house. To her office. Should never have brought your fucked-up life into her safe one.

He runs a hand through his hair.

The sitting, the waiting, the hoping is doing absolutely nothing.

He has to fix this.

“I can’t wait any longer, Winston.” John shakes his head, “I’m going after Lorenzo.”

Winston responds in kind, “Don’t be stupid, Jonathan.”

“I can’t sit here doing nothing. If I kill the D’Antonio’s, this is over. She’ll be released.”

“You’re banking on an unknown enemy being honest.”

It was true, but what else was there to go on?

“He has no reason to keep her once they’re dead.”

“That you know of. This could just be the beginning of his plan.” Winston keeps arguing.

“It’s all ifs right now!” John can feel the anger brimming within him, “But it’s all I have! And Helen… she’s tough but she has her limits.”

Winston frowns, “Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before you became involved with her.”

“You think I don’t know that! I know that this is my fault but I will get her out of this. I gave you time, I gave the Technician a chance.”

“My time isn’t up.”

“You have a handful of hours and no fucking leads.”

“Um, Mister Wick…” The Technician pipes up, turning around in his seat.

“Then help me narrow down what I should be looking for. You know I can’t just let you go off to kill a member of the High Table.”

“You won’t be able to stop me.”

“Mister Wick!” The Technician shouts and both John and Winston turn to look at him, “You, um, sorry. But you just got a text from an unknown number.”

He holds up the phone and John takes it.

A New York number, that he doesn’t recognize, but opens all the same. The message is short, deliberate.

The miracle he’s been praying for.

DeLuca of Syndicate.

[the-desolated-quill]

It’s Summer And We’re Running Out Of Ice - Watchmen (TV Series) blog

(SPOILER WARNING: The following is an in-depth critical analysis. if you haven’t seen this episode yet, you may want to before reading this review)

I’m not going to lie. I was incredibly sceptical going into this. This isn’t the first TV adaptation of a classic novel to go beyond the source material and try to continue the story, and they nearly always suck (see The Handmaid’s Tale and The Man In The High Castle). There’s a reason why books end where they’re supposed to end. If the author intended to carry the story on, they would have done so. This is why I get angry when the TV industry arrogantly oversteps the mark and try to continue a plot that has already come to a satisfactory conclusion. Doing a sequel to Watchmen, a story that hinges on the ambiguity of its ending, is just utter madness to me, and allowing Damon Lindelof to write that sequel borders on moronic at first glance. This is the man behind the TV series Lost, a show that ran out of steam within the first couple of episodes due to the fact that the plot was complete and total bollocks and the fact that nobody could be bothered to come up with satisfying answers for these ludicrous mysteries and series arcs beforehand. They were just making that shit up as he went along. Now you’re handing Lindelof the keys to one of the most intricate and detailed comic book properties of all time?! Fuck, why don’t you just let JJ Abrams direct the next Star Wars mo- Oh yeah, I forgot, he already did that.

Thankfully, judging by this first episode anyway, HBO’s Watchmen is nowhere near as bad as Lost. It’s certainly far more engaging and coherent. Does that mean I’m looking forward to the rest of this season? Well... I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’m definitely intrigued though.

HBO’s Watchmen is a sequel to the graphic novel (Lindelof called it a remix, but come on. Grow a pair and call it what it is. A sequel). Superheroes are still illegal, Robert Redford is now the President, Rorschach’s death has inspired a white supremacist cult, and it’s raining squid.

Yeah, the raining squid thing feels like the only egregious bit of fanwank in here, to be fair. Maybe they’re going somewhere with this, but I have my doubts. Are we supposed to assume that Ozymandias has been making squid rain for the past thirty odd years in order to keep up the whole alien invasion ruse? Why squid rain? And why is everyone so nonchalant about it? Shouldn’t people be just a bit concerned by this, considering what happened in New York?

Speaking of Ozymandias, we see him riding a horse and writing plays for his butler and maid in some fancy mansion. Quite what the significance of The Watchmaker’s Son is, I don’t know. All I do know is I’m not going to be able to sleep at night without thinking about Jeremy Irons’ thighs from now on, so thanks for that.

Putting my cynicism aside for a moment, I do like what Lindelof is trying to do here. He’s not merely cashing in on the Watchmen brand. There is a genuine effort to do something fresh and different with this material, and I commend that. Watchmen’s central theme has always been about power, but whereas the source material focused mainly on its relation to sex (Comedian’s hedonism, Nite Owl’s impotence, Rorschach’s mummy issues and the sexual objectification of Silk Spectre), the TV series seems to be zeroing in on race as a topic. This I applaud. Expanding on certain areas that the graphic novel only ever really touched upon is a great idea. This doesn’t feel like a repeat of the graphic novel, but rather a clarification of it, exploring areas and themes that Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons may have overlooked. This helps set this series apart from the outset. 

The opening scenes where we see the Tulsa Massacre of 1921 is a pretty harrowing way to start. I’m ashamed to say I had no idea about the Tulsa Massacre prior to this, and we could have a whole other discussion about why schools seem to have been avoiding teaching specific topics like this in favour of the broad strokes of the Jim Crow era, but now is not the time. The fact that it’s depicted here sets the stage for what’s to come. Some have criticised the show for the length of time the opening focuses on Tulsa, claiming that it sensationalises the pain of black people at that time. I personally don’t think it does. It’s not overly graphic or gratuitous, at least in my opinion, but it is a very shocking way to open a series. Some might say even upsetting, but I think it’s important that we saw this because it’s relevant in setting the tone for the episode and indeed the season as a whole, as well as letting the audience know that this show isn’t going to fuck around or shy away from more sensitive topics, and I can respect that. Unlike Zack Snyder’s overly stylised adaptation from 2009, Watchmen the HBO series is grounded very firmly in reality.

Let’s discuss characters. This episode mostly focuses on Angela Abar, also known as Sister Night. Regina King has given some terrific performances in the past and this is no exception. She’s simply phenomenal. The way she switches from light-hearted wife and baker to violent, no nonsense vigilante cop. The shift is noticeable and yet both personas feel like they’re aspects of the same character. It’s exceptionally good. It also helps that the character herself makes for a great protagonist. Having survived the ‘White Night’ four years prior, where the Seventh Kavalry attacked the families of forty Tulsa police officers in response to the government giving special reparations to the victims of racial injustice, Angela has become cynical and battle hardened. She has no sympathy for Kavlary members and is willing to skip due process by beating one of them to a pulp and bundling him in the back of her car. She’s angry and in pain, and yet retains the audience's sympathy. I’m interested to see what happens to her over the course of the season.

I also really liked her friendship with Don Johnson’s character Judd Crawford. Johnson is a charismatic performer and Crawford is a charismatic character. He really dives into the olde western sheriff persona and seems to be having a lot of fun with it. Crawford is the only other character, besides Angela, who stayed on as a police officer after the White Night, and the two characters seem to have a great relationship. They laugh and joke around and there’s clearly a mutual respect between the two. I genuinely like this character, which is what makes his murder at the end so much more heartbreaking. Not to mention all the little details that force us to realise he may not be what he seems. We see him sniff cocaine in private and there’s a photo on his desk featuring the kid from school who aggressively asked Angela why black people deserve reparations. It doesn’t necessarily mean that Crawford himself is racist, but there’s clearly more going on with him that we don’t know about.

The final character of interest at the moment is Tim Blake Nelson’s character Wade Tillman, aka Looking Glass. We don’t know anything about him yet other than he’s a human lie detector, which I find very intriguing and I hope will be explored further as the show goes on. There’s a lot to play around with there, and the moral implications are tantalising. A conviction based not on physical evidence, but rather on the observations of one man. Even Sherlock Holmes has to back his deductions up with evidence, and yet Looking Glass clearly doesn’t need to. That just raises so many ethical questions. What if he has a particular bias towards someone? What about burden of proof? What if forensic evidence contradicts him? If Looking Glass is supposedly that accurate, does that mean the police will side with him regardless? It’s a great premise for a character and I really like Nelson’s performance, giving him a cold and detached personality that contrasts beautifully with Angela’s.

The characters and ideas are solid, however where I feel the show is lacking is with the consistency of its world building. Let’s analyse. This is an alternate history where Nixon used superheroes to extend his term limits, but after the New York attack at the end of the graphic novel, he’s been kicked out in favour of Robert Redford (nice nod to the source material there by the way. lol). As a result, black people got reparations for the racial injustices their ancestors went through and police are now unable to openly carry firearms without special permission from Panda (literally a cop wearing a panda costume). However, after the events of White Night, the government agrees to allow cops to wear masks to protect their identities, hence why quote/unquote ‘superheroes’ like Sister Night and Looking Glass are around despite the existence of the Keene Act. These are, in effect, legal vigilantes. Except already there’s a problem with conflicting messages. I like the idea of masked cops. In the current age of Black Lives Matter and police accountability, it makes sense and could be interesting to explore. However this is hindered by the whole ‘no guns’ stuff. Again, not a bad idea. America’s current gun laws are, to put it mildly, woefully inadequate. What if we went the other way? What if not only was it near impossible to own a gun, cops couldn’t even use a taser without special permission. Both ideas could work... but not at the same time.

Cops being allowed to wear masks creates the effect of empowering them through anonymity, and runs the risk of officers overstepping the mark and normal citizens being unable to hold them to account. But on the other hand, we’ve also got cops whose lives are constantly at risk and who are hindered in their duties by an overprotective nanny state, which effectively depowers them. So... which is it? It can’t be both. I like the scene where Panda reads the law about how the use of firearms can only be permitted in extreme circumstances, and everyone just angrily shouts him down because it tells us how the police feel about this new system. The fact that they’ve made one cop the sole arbiter of these new restrictions and forced him to dress like some ridiculous furry demonstrates the sheer amount of disdain they have towards this policy. But having said that, with the masks on, they have the power and freedom to break into people’s caravans and basically kidnap and assault them without consequence anyway. So what the fuck are they complaining about? It just doesn’t gel together. Either have it that the rules and regulations of the police are the same as our world except that cops can wear masks now, which has led to an increasing problem of police brutality and corruption, or have it that the police are being too heavily restricted and so a few have chosen to turn toward more ‘unorthodox’ methods of crime fighting out of frustration. Pick one and go with it.

Then there’s the Seventh Kavalry. Again, not a bad idea. In fact I love it. A white supremacist cult that’s taken Rorschach’s journal as gospel and have banded together out of a fear of being sidelined in a more liberal world. Very relevant and very interesting. Except... well... there’s not an awful lot to it, is there? In the original graphic novel, there was no clear bad guy. Ozymandias believed he was doing the ultimate good by killing millions of people to save the world, and everyone reluctantly went along with it. It was morally complicated. This, not so much. They’re unambiguously evil. The end. So what? What is there to discuss? It just feels lacking compared to the graphic novel and it runs the risk of creating a conflict that’s too clear cut. Obviously we’re going to end up siding with the cops, regardless of what they do, because the alternative is objectively bad. Hopefully Lindelof is going somewhere with this, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t say I was slightly concerned.

So on the whole, would I say I enjoyed this first episode? Well... I’d say I did, but with reservations. There’s some good characters and ideas that could be interesting to explore and develop, but its execution feels a little shaky in places. Hopefully the episodes to come will offer further clarity.

[pietromelim]

A Thomas Lightwood Bisexual Story (Part 2 and final) takes place after Chain of Gold so will have spoilers!!

-That is quite the story. Though i must admit,i would never expect such a thing from you,Tom.-Matthew said,with a grin on his face.

Thomas really wanted to hide his face in a hole somewhere,he knew that at least one of his friends would make fun of him because of the way they found him at the Devil Tavern.

And of course,it had to be Matthew,which wasn't that surprising,since he was the Libertine of The Merry Thieves. James and Christopher were too shocked to tease him about anything.

-Not sure if i will ever even sit on that bed again. Perhaps it would be better if Christopher burned those sheets.-Said James.

-Indeed! I have always wanted to set fire in that bed. It annoyed me,though i can't recall the reason why.-Said Christopher.

Thomas rolled his eyes.

-Do as you please. It's not like something like this will ever happen again. I was a little drunk yesterday as well,surely we can blame this on the alcohol.-Said Thomas.

-If you say so. Perhaps we could just ask the Italian girl if we see her. It is very likely that she will appear at the Institute eventually.-Said Matthew.

-Then i should really make myself scarce.-Thomas said.

-Why worry? I was under the impression that she told you herself that it would mean nothing,and that it wouldn't be like you ruined her.-James asked.

-It would still be very awkward. I am such an awful pill! I was out of my mind completely! My mother would be ashamed of what i did! And Eugenia...-Thomas was saying,but Matthew stopped him.

-There is absolutely no need to fret over this,Thomas. Let it be then. This girl is probably smart enough to ignore you completely.-Said Matthew.

-That seems unlikely. We are having a gathering at the Institute today,to celebrate the destruction of the Mandikhor.-James said.

Thomas shook his head.

-Bloody hell! You have to be kidding me!-Said Thomas.

-I understand you frustration,dearest cousin. I was also hoping i could spend the afternoon in the lab,until my father literally told me he would lock me in the lab for an entire month if i didn't show up at the Institute today.-Said Christopher.

-Apparently,Uncle Gabriel maybe worried that you are lacking social skills. Perhaps he wishes to introduce you to beautiful ladies?-Said Matthew,smiling.

-Haven't i met every beautiful lady in the Enclave by now?-Christopher asked.

-Cease the conversation! Do you not see that our Tom here is deeply scared of seeing the italian girl again?-Said James,laughing.

Thomas tried to laugh as well,that is what he should be doing. But he simply couldn't,he was way too embarassed.

He did not wanted to see Giovanna again.

"Later"

The Merry Thieves were finally at the Institute,which was indeed,full of people. Seemed like the celebration was being taken seriously.

Thomas was feeling uneasy,knowing that Giovanna could literally pop up out of nowhere to haunt him. He could have avoided all of that,if he had listened to reason.

It seemed pointless to think about that now. It was probably better if he focused on acting as normally as he could.

-Is everything okay,Tommy? You look rather pale.-Said a voice Thomas knew very well.

Gideon. His father. Thomas could not help but wonder how Gideon would react if he revealed his doings of the last night.

-I am fine. Just wasn't really in the mood for a party now.-Said Thomas,without looking to Gideon's eyes.

Gideon shrugged.

-Just try to have fun. Your friends seem to be enjoying themselves.-Said Gideon,pointing to the rest of the Merry Thieves.

Thomas approached them,and Matthew pulled him close.

-Have you seen our ragazza already? You must be quite scared,eh?-Asked Matthew,laughing.

-How does he get drunk this quickly?-Asked Thomas.

-It must be his hidden talents,though i'm not really sure how that helps him. Thomas,i already told you,stop worrying about the girl. Your parents will notice your uneasiness.-Said James.

-If it were that easy. Where is Christopher? I thought Uncle Gabriel forced him to come?-Said Thomas.

-Oh he is here! You can see him there,probably explaining about the antidote to my stupid brother and Grace Blackthorn.-Said Matthew.

Thomas looked at them,near the door. Christopher speaked quite quickly about everything. Charles was probably pretending to be interested,since he wanted to become Consul and had to listen to people and their blabbering. Grace was likely dying of boredom.

-She looks stunning in that ivory dress.-James said.

Matthew slapped James' hand.

-You are engaged,Mr.Herondale. Have that in mind before you go drool all over the floor Grace steps on.-Said Matthew.

James seemed to have cursed in a whisper,which wasn't surprising for Thomas. Only their little group of friends knew that James and Cordelia's marriage was a sham.

But Thomas wasn't feeling patient to deal with those things today. He just wished the party would be over quickly so that he could leave the Institute without the risk of seeing Giovanna again.

One could only hope,and that was exactly what Thomas was going to do.

"Hours Later"

-Are you looking for anyone in specific,Tom? Or have you forgotten how the Institute's ballroom looked like?-Anna asked,she sat beside him,looking stunning as always.

-I'm actually trying to avoid someone that may or may not show up.-Said Thomas.

-That seems to be very dull. This whole celebration is actually turning to be quite a bore. Good thing my parents won't mind if i leave to go to the Hell Ruelle today.-Said Anna,smiling.

-Is that so? It doesn't surprise me that you prefer that scandalous place over a simple ball.-Said Thomas.

-Oh i assure you,the Hell Ruelle is more than just scandalous. You should come with me sometime. You will have the time of your life.-Said Anna.

Thomas didn't quite knew if Anna was being serious or not. She probably found him way too dull to enjoy a place like the Hell Ruelle. But he wouldn't have to worry about seeing Giovanna again if he left the party.

Thomas didn't knew if Gideon or Sophie would mind,but he wasn't worried either. The Hell Ruelle did seem to be quite scandalous. But after what he did,why not give it a shot?

-Anna,before you leave,please try to find me. I want to go to the Hell Ruelle along with you.-Said Thomas.

Anna's eyes widened with surprise. It has been ages since Thomas last saw Anna surprised with anything.

-Are you absolutely sure? You do know that the Ruelle has a reputation,do you not?-Asked Anna.

Thomas nodded.

-I do,and that is why i wish to go with you.-He said.

Anna simply smiled.

-Follow me then!-She said.

"At the Hell Ruelle"

-This is the Ruelle,Thomas! Be sure of this,you will never find a place like the Ruelle!-Said Anna.

Thomas could barely analyze the place,it was just so full of people,and every single one of them were downworlders. The blue fire of the warlocks gave the place a unique atmosphere.

He recognized some of the famous downworlders,like Magnus Bane and his cat eyes,Malcolm Fade and Hypatia Vex,that was smiling and talking to Anna.

Thomas wasn't expecting Anna to keep him company,it was obvious that she was there to entertain herself more than anything. Perhaps he should just do the same.

Thomas went to the bar table,where a Ifrit with four arms and jade colored skin was serving drinks. His expression changed slightly to one of distaste. Probably because Thomas was a Shadowhunter.

-Nephilim. Do you wish to drink something?-He asked,his voice was so husky.

Thomas took a few seconds to answer. He felt so out of place there,he needed something to make him feel more...at home.

-I want something strong. I wish to get drunk as quickly as possible.-Thomas said.

Weirdly,the Ifrit smiled,his teeth were as yellow as his eyes.

-That can be taken care of.-He said.

The Ifrit filled a glass with champagne,and then threw some pink colored powder in it.

-Drink it,Nephilim,and you will not remember a single thing when you wake up tomorrow.-The Ifrit said.

Thomas only nodded,and drank all the champagne,until the glass was completely empty.

He immediately felt quite dizzy,as if everything around him was spinning.

He walked to where the downworlders were dancing. It was quite a different dance,their bodies where so close,that was something Thomas would never see in the balls of the Shadowhunters.

-Yes! Shadowhunters are so dull! We are a great bore!-Thomas said,he felt like he was screaming,but the sound of the music was probably louder than his voice.

He bumped into someone,and nearly fell to the ground. Whatever it was the Ifrit gave him,it was definitely working.

Thomas looked at the boy whose he had just bumped. It was definitely a warlock,his skin had a very bright blue tone,almost white. His hair was pale as the moon,his eyes were star-shapped,just like the ones of Hypatia Vex,and were as green as the forest.

The boy was really handsome,in that magic and supernatural way only warlocks could be. He smiled to Thomas.

-An angel in the Hell Ruelle? Are you not lost,angel boy?-He asked.

Thomas shook his head.

-I want to be here! I'm not as dull as everyone thinks! And i'm not just kind!-Thomas said.

He barely had control of his words,but something inside him felt like he would have a huge headache tomorrow.

-You surely are not dull! As a matter of fact,you seem to be the more interesting here!-He said.

Thomas got closer to him,almost without realizing. The warlock was quite handsome. And he did seemed interesting as well.

It was almost like Thomas felt an attraction to him. Which wasn't that surprising for Thomas. He knew at least that much about himself.

Though he did not know what to do know.

-You are interesting too! Do you have a name,mate!?-Thomas asked.

The warlock boy laughed.

-Would you remember it tomorrow if i tell you?-He asked,smiling.

-I cannot promise you that!-Thomas said.

And all of a sudden,his mouth was on Thomas',and they were kissing quite fiercely. His mouth tasted like a combination of wine and blue ruin.

It was a bittersweet sensation,almost addictive. Thomas felt like he could use some more of that.

His skin started to feel hot,as if the entire place began to burn. He unbuttoned his shirt,but the warlock boy stopped him.

-If you wish to go further,angel boy,them it will have to be in a more private place.-He said.

Thomas shrugged,almost taking his shirt off.

-I don't give a bloody hell!-Thomas shouted,the warlock laughed and grabbed him by his tie,taking him in to one of the inner chambers.

This one had a sapphire color,full of blue diamonds and other blue gems,like lapis lazuli,aquamarine and indicolite.

He threw Thomas on the bed,and began to take his clothes off. Thomas kicked off his shoes and took off his socks,his shirt was open.

He wasn't thinking straight,deep down he knew that. His mind was rather foggy. But what he was doing now,it didn't felt wrong.

The warlock was nearly nude,he crashed on Thomas as he layed on the bed. His light blue chest pressed against Thomas' skin,they were burning.

They kissed violently,Thomas' hands running down the back of the boy whose name he didn't even knew.

But it didn't matter,he wouldn't remember it anyways. Thomas removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor,he left the bed and managed to somehow lock the door.

And then he was back to the bed,and the night went on.

"The Next Day"

Thomas woke up in a place completely unknown too him. The only thing he realized at first was that it was all too blue.

The second thing he noticed was that he wasn't wearing any clothes. But there were no bed sheets covering him this time.

"Again? Must be a record or something." He thought.

And the third,and most surprising,was the blue warlock,nude as well,beside on the bed,still asleep.

Thomas quickly got up,looking at everything around him. He didn't exactly remembered what he had been up to. He couldn't remember the boy's name,and his head was exploding.

His clothes were in very unusual places around the blue room,much to his dismay.

-Did this really happened? Have i really done this? Oh Raziel! If my father could see me right now.-Thomas said,he was pretty sure the sleeping warlock was unable to hear him.

Thomas smiled,and then started to laugh a little bit. He was feeling many things,but regret was not one of them.

Perhaps it was just silly to think about Alastair. Thomas did not need him for anything. Anna was right about the Hell Ruelle after all.

He didn't knew if he would ever return,but he did knew himself a lot better right now.

And he was happy with that.

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM manga chapter 119 Review: A Conspiracy?

Buckle up, this review gets long.  I was away on family business for a few days so I missed this one’s drop.  It’s meant though that I’ve had longer to ponder my thoughts. 

Core take away for me is that like Hellfire Flame and Gale Wind trying to recruit Sonic set us up to better understand the Ninja arc when it showed up in the webcomic, this ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ at the conspiracies brewing sight unseen is foundation for what will burst into the open later, apparently from nowhere. 

Anyway, onto the review.  Much more under the cut.  First though, One-Shotter is still alive!  Looks like his mechanised parts are much more extensive than initially appeared. 

I tell you, it doesn’t pay to be a cyborg hero in OPM. It’s just inviting gratuitous cruelty into your life.

Soon Gets Sooner

This chapter, I honestly expected Drive Knight to just leave with Nyan and stay the international Cyborg of Mystery he'd been to date.  But he stuck around to talk to Sekingar and what we got was a glimpse indeed to the mystery plot that has been brewing from the very start.

We find out just why Drive Knight has a 100% win record: he never, ever fights unless he has carefully studied and formulated an excellent battle plan. Even if it means sacrificing his fellow heroes like pawns.  

And then things get weird. After offering data on the strong monsters in the MA, Drive Knight changes the subject to asking Sekingar about the state of the Hero Association, being very interested in just which capable heroes were left available to respond and whether or not Blast was likely to attend if the Hero Association were attacked.  And then Drive Knight went into full tin-foil hat conspiracy mode, painting the loss of the Metal Knight as a deliberate action by Dr Bofoi to gift the Monster Association with the way to take out the Hero Association.

When Sekingar spoke of not expecting the support heroes to carry out their mission without injury, I’m sure he couldn’t have imagined ending up a casualty.  When he tries to call the Hero Association to check, none other than G5 shows up to shoot his hand off.  As G5 approaches, Drive Knight makes no move to either attack G5, claiming lack of power, nor to protect Sekingar.  Even in extremis though,  Sekingar is still thinking about the support team, the hostage, and what action he could yet take.  Truly, a hero is being forged before our eyes.  He just has to survive the experience.

‘Why not me?’ That’s the central question heroes ask themselves.

Fee, Fi, Do, Fum, Cinderella's At The Ball

We'd seen Garou, who I'd dubbed Sleeping Beauty awaken from his unconsciousness. With a roar, he pummelled PPP into the ground.

Cyborg Cinderella, whom we'd left vacuuming and washing dishes while the others went ahead, may be attending the ball late, but his entrance was no less spectacular. With timing worthy of Saitama himself, just in time, one mighty kick all but split G5 in half, arriving so fast the robot barely had time to register his presence.  It's interesting what summoned him; Saitama's punch may have gotten his attention, but it was G5's energy signature that really got him on scene.

Insane kicks, flips -- and upgrades

Kuseno magic extends to clothes: the last time he used Jet Drive Arrow, he ended up naked. Now Genos isn't just very fashionably dressed, but his raiments are fire-resistant and wonderfully form-hugging.  Until the clock strikes twelve (or ten in his case), he is here to cut some terrifying shapes.

And now all the pieces are in play.

The chapter ends suddenly and ominously.  On one side, we have Genos asking, looking about as cunning as a newborn lamb, what’s going on: 

On the other, if it’s possible for an expressionless face to look unamused, then the very cunning Drive Knight looks most unamused:

Meta: “The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy. No more. No less.”  

 -- from the webcomic ‘Schlock Mercenary’ (more here)

I’d wondered why ONE had split Genos off from the rest, in difference to the was he’d gone together with the rest in the webcomic.  It was definite that ONE intended to test Genos in a situation where he had no support, bu the potential for him to discover something new and relevant to his quest is the last thing I expected. 

A peek behind the scenes indeed!  Where from and why Genos came to fetch up at Saitama’s door in chapter 7, telling a tale of evil cyborgs and total extermination, we know not.  It’s seemed increasingly far-fetched as nearly nothing happened with that storyline and the monsters we meet have nothing to do with the sort of intelligences behind any such cyborg.  It’s led to some, too many, fans claiming that in that absence the ‘mad’ cyborg must be Genos himself  -- in a twist of logic too stupid for real life  [Then again, the typical SF story seems to be written by an individual who never met an actual human being...].  I don’t know about the veracity of 90% of what Drive Knight said, but there is a conspiracy indeed. 

So, now we get to understand a bit more about Drive Knight. It’s something I’ve long wondered about:

The thing about Drive Knight is that he hasn't told us who he is yet. At present, he's a blank slate for whom many alignments are possible without betraying who he is. He could be entirely a hero, just acting in ways that are more independent than most would appreciate. He could be a member of The Organization, acting as a mole in the Hero Association. He could be an entirely amoral person, aligning himself to one group or another as suits his goals and all would be consistent with what we don't know about him. Once he declares who he is, we'll be down to many fewer possibilities.  -- myself, Reddit post   

“Everything that can be used must be used.”  With that, Drive Knight has finally told us who he is.   He is highly calculating and will use anything he can to achieve his ends.  At the expense of anyone and anything. 

What to make of all of this? One thing we can be certain of. Drive Knight really hates Bofoi, considers him a threat and reads the worst possible motives into his actions. He wastes no time in trying to sew suspicion about Bofoi whenever possible.   Why?  We don’t know. 

At its most benign, Drive Knight may be like Zombieman and the House of Evolution, seeing evil in Metal Knight and a grand conspiracy where none actually exists.   A less benign possibility is that Drive Knight may be projecting his ambitions onto Metal Knight and describing what he fears Metal Knight has in possession in order to thwart them (whoever ‘them’ is). 

Since we as readers have a quasi-omniscient view of the story, we know that quite a lot of what Drive Knight said about Metal Knight is factually wrong.  We know that he is wrong bout the circumstances under which Bofoi lost the Metal Knight.  We know that he is wrong about its fate.  We know most of all that he is absolutely wrong about Bofoi wanting the capable heroes scattered or defeated.  Dr. Bofoi has been furious with the Hero Association executives for risking the lives of any heroes raiding the Monster Association precisely because he feared what might happen if the ranks of the heroes were thinned. 

Interesting that G5 is definitely its own entity!  Once I realised that the tactical transformations formed around Drive Knight, I’d started to entertain the possibility that the two of them were the same.  That said...

I could well understand Drive Knight having done his own work to understand the nature of the strong monsters actually in the Monster Association base.  However, there is one piece of information G5 has that it could not have reasonably obtained without Drive Knight sharing it. 

When they ran off a second time, they ran off separately.   More pertinently, there’s no reason for G5 to show Sekingar this information: it puts psychological pressure on him, but if G5 just wants to kill him, there’s no point to it.  Instead, Drive Knight drawing attention to the support team and G5 drawing attention to the hostage act as a double-team interrogation to see if Sekingar has some way yet of reaching Blast in time of most extreme need. 

We’ve also learned that Blast is all but retired. It falls into line with what we've gleaned from the webcomic and suggests that he's quite old.

He's just a poor boy from a poor family: spare him his life!  (and limbs)

Dr Kuseno's occasionally prodding Genos to not forget his primary task of finding the 'mad' cyborg, as well as his warning not to fight it alone both make great sense.   In OPM, you get good at what you actually  practice.  Fighting monsters as a hero has been very useful for Genos developing raw fighting prowess. It has done nothing to prepare him to face the cruel, conniving, and creative people that the not-quite-mad cyborg and those behind him are.  Watching Genos ask straightforwardly what the situation and contrasting it to Drive Knight's complicated narrative was to realise how painfully naive Genos is. 

It's all very well to counsel non-engagement, but you deal with the monster before you: situations aren't neat and don't wait until you feel prepared. I'd hoped for another conversation between Genos and Drive Knight but this looks far more dangerous.  I've no doubt that Genos won't die, but his participation in this battle could be VERY short.

So many ways this story could wend.  A few that come to mind:

The most tragic:Drive Knight convinces Genos of his predicament, perhaps offering data on the cadres as a sweetener and Genos escorts him and the fallen heroes out of the war zone.  As soon as Drive Knight is sure Genos is safely underground, he'll kill Sekingar... and probably the support heroes into the bargain. If he burns them, the only fire-wielder known is Genos.  If he's really clever, catching up with Waganma and Food Battler, dragging them back and burning them too creates a compelling narrative of Genos (already suspected of colluding with the monsters) waylaying the support heroes as they tried to retreat and killing them all.  Drive Knight can show up at the Hero Association and continue his activities. No witnesses, a convenient scapegoat, and near total freedom to carry on his agenda.

Mortal combat. No matter what changes to the webcomic ONE has planned, Genos isn't about to get killed, so Drive Knight is either going to have to run for it or else get killed. Knowing who Drive Knight is, there is no possibility that he would defeat Genos and leave the latter alive -- even if he were that careless, Genos announcing that any enemy that gives him trouble will find that he comes back very quickly and very much stronger would put paid to that. (yes, he’s so naive!)    Either way, Drive Knight won't be working as a hero any longer.   For Genos, victory is likely to be expensive -- he runs the risk of sustaining critical damage, which will force him to retreat, or of wasting precious, precious energy that he could really use later.   Very interesting repercussions will definitely follow.

Hit him in the heroism. Drive Knight could use the heroes and Sekingar as hostages and get Genos to allow him to leave unmolested. He won't be coming back to the HA but it looks like he knows all he needs to. Genos won't like it, but as a person who has long established his willingness to take incredible punishment to protect others from harm, he won't have any other course of action.  I suspect that this is the most likely outcome.

Whatever actually happens! Only ONE (and Murata) know.  I know I need the next instalment!

Bonus question. Where is the cat?  Drive Knight dropped it when G5 showed up and it hasn't been in evidence since.

[ryanmeft]

Movie Review: Motherless Brooklyn

The greatest villains of noir are never the central antagonists. The corrupt cops, the slimy businessmen, and the small time hoods and assassins typified by the genre’s heyday are of course all vital to the seedy underrealms these movies sink us into, but the true villain is always the world itself, and specifically the rotten and festering systems whose waste drips down and creates the conditions for battered, weary detectives and crooks with no hope in the first place. This was implied in most classic noir, but Edward Norton’s Motherless Brooklyn makes it explicit. It focuses on a man seen by others as a freak, trying to do a good thing in a city that exists because of bad things. He’s up against such a vital underpinning of his entire world that he might as well be trying to punch out the moon.

Lionel Essrog is not exactly the first person you might choose in such a fight, even if one overlooks his Tourette’s syndrome, which in the decidedly unenlightened 1950’s is unlikely. He’s one of several detectives working for the aging Frank Minna (Bruce Willis), whose particular skills would have been equally applicable on the other side of the law. Also under Minna, in a crew the older man pulled from the morass of an abusive orphanage and led through World War II, are the force-and-bluster tough guy Tony Vermonte (Bobby Cannavale), who has an interesting relationship with Minna’s widow (Leslie Mann); the sharp information-gathering Danny Fantl (Dallas Roberts); and the reserved and slightly bumbling Gilbert Coney (Ethan Suplee). The film opens with a terribly thrilling sequence in which Minna seems to be trying to make a deal with some underworld figures, and as one might expect the deal goes wrong, resulting in Minna’s eventual death.

Let’s take a moment and look at that sequence. It takes up the first half hour or so of the film, and it takes its time. Essrog, played by Norton, listens in for a signal from Minna, and you know something is going to go wrong. Yet where other movies might make that a quick and easy scene, Norton gets our hopes up that Minna might live, and it is genuinely affecting when he doesn’t, because of how much he clearly meant to our protagonist. This death is more than just a device to set off the plot of the film. It defines Lionel’s key character traits: loyalty to those he trusts, suspicion towards most everyone else, all of the wariness that a lifetime of being infantilized by others would give a man. His character is not defined by Tourette’s, which, for the record, is presented accurately as the repetition of tics and phrases rather than by the cliche and rare repeating of profanity. His photographic memory is a tool for detective work, but also a burden; imagine never forgetting anything, and if you’ve suffered at all in life you might realize that isn’t a superpower. He wears his boss’s old hat and coat, in tribute to the man rather than to try and be him. Lionel is a fully developed character, and not a gimmick. The film is patient with him and with the plot, the kind of patience lacking in modern films where audiences will sit for more than two hours only if computer effects are involved.

His case is no gimmick, either, but a fully developed and twisted web that goes, of course, up to the Very Top. The central question: why was Minna, ostensibly a licensed private eye, talking to mobsters as if they were dealing with each other? Lionel digs into this, and it becomes clear it involves the city’s powerful planning commissioner, Moses Randolph (Alec Baldwin). He seems able to demand whatever he wants from the government, behaves like a Godfather instead of a public servant, and is involved in the demolition of slums. Ostensibly, the plan is to provide better housing for the mostly black residents, an assertion which is challenged by two people. The first is wary-but-idealistic housing activist Laura Rose (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), who develops a connection with Lionel that feels true and complex and not like an obligatory screenplay romance. Mbatha-Raw is a seriously undervalued actress, and here she represents the counter-culture of jazz, which was primarily African-American and seen as degenerate at the time. Her uncle Billy (Robert Wisdom) and cool-as-ice trumpet-playing friend (Michael K. Williams) have some level of insight into what exactly is happening to Brooklyn’s poor black population, and they become allies. It must be noted that scenes in nightclubs are handled perfectly, feeling like the close, crowded, smoky places that jazz clubs should be.

The second is a ragged man with a frantic voice named Paul (Willem Dafoe), who appears at meetings and angrily whips the crowd into frenzies against Moses. He lays out what crooked deals are going on, but encourages Lionel to be the one to stop it; he cannot, for reasons that will be revealed. I found him the most fascinating supporting character on the canvas, and a perfect role for Dafoe. In movies, most of the good-aligned characters we meet will eventually abandon all self-centered interests and heroically join the cause at great self-sacrifice. Film noir is decidedly unsuited to such sentiment, but in the old days often suffered from it nonetheless. Paul is the apotheosis of that: he is legitimately angry at the conspiracies he sees, but has been too hurt by his own failures to fix them in the past, and now wants to pass the buck so he does not have to suffer any more losses. In our heart of hearts, most of us know we are more like Paul.

Earlier I mentioned the look of the jazz world, but I must mention the look of the rest of the world, as well. Regular Mike Leigh cinematographer Dick Pope films a mid-century New York reproduced by production designer Beth Mickie, that is lost, where boat-sized cars rumble down narrow streets and dark shadows are hidden in the eaves of bridges and corners of doorways. Lionel is at one point invited to meet with Moses to strike a deal, and Moses’ office is as spacious as the rest of the city is not; in an excellent wide shot, he patrols this throne room as a king, passing judgments and decisions entirely as it pleases him. This is not a man who will fall like a typical movie crook, and indeed the film leaves open whether Lionel succeeds at all.

Norton, who is friends with novelist Jonathan Lethem, has, with the author’s consent, done what a filmmaker should: used the parts of the book that suit, and changed those that did not. Most notably, he has moved the 90’s setting (this project has been long gestating) to the 1950’s and wrapped up the plot in one of our great modern national stains, the New York housing discrimination that still affects the African-American community today. The parallels are both obvious and buried, and though Norton has discussed the connections between Moses and Donald Trump, this is not an overtly political picture. It is instead a deeply involving mystery with highly engaging characters and an intriguing world, that happens to have greater points under the surface for those who are looking.

Verdict: Highly Recommended

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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 All images are property of the people what own the movie.

[polarishq]

Meet DAPHNE NIKOLAIDIS. They are ONE HUNDRED and TWNETY-FOUR years old and hail from THESSALONIKI, GREECE. Daphne embodies the constellation, VULPECULA. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is MADELAINE PETSCH.

Vulpecula reminds me of freshly plucked peaches, messy ponytails, clenching your fists so hard it leaves fingernail indents on your palms, running barefoot down a dirt road, a refusal to let history repeat itself, gel manicures, restless nights and groggy mornings, and a bolt of lightning bright enough to illuminate the entire night sky.

BIOGRAPHY

(Trigger warning for attempted assault)

To know Daphne now is to know a completely different person from the girl who once spun cartwheels along the Greek shore line and ate peaches plucked straight from their trees. Her life felt picturesque from the day she was born, and while there may not be anything outstanding or particularly interesting about her early years, they formed her into someone kind and gentle. She also grew up surrounded by magic, though knowing that it had to be something of a secret within their community. Humans wouldn’t understand, and to Daphne, keeping it secret was okay. A bit annoying when she wanted to simply create a fire rather than waiting for her human friends to gather materials and build one, but for the most part, it was something Daphne understood.

Flash forward to her adulthood, and it seemed like the stars were continuing to smile down at her. She was in her early 20s when it felt like she had the world at her feet, in the form of a sweet human boy who easily captured her heart. Daphne spent her nights imaging her fairy tale happy ending, which was easy to do when she purposefully ignored the fact that her and her lover were a rare mix indeed. Eventually, she knew, she would have to tell him. Her aging would slow drastically while he grew old, and one day she would be without him. But Daphne was not yet prepared to think about that. She would start with baby steps. Three years into their relationship, when marriage seemed more of an inevitability than anything else, she took him aside and told him what she was. She showed him what she was. Daphne had been steeling herself for the worst from him, but once the initial shock wore off, he told her that it changed nothing. If anything, it explained why he always knew she was a little bit otherworldly in his eyes. The two were engaged soon after, and once again, it felt like steady seas ahead.

Until it wasn’t.

Soon after their engagement, Daphne and her fiance had been walking home late at night, returning from an evening with her future in-laws, when they were stopped.  A small group of men grabbed her and her fiance, and everything that proceeded went by in a flash. Hands all over her, her fiance screaming, fear and anger building up in her as they told her to do as they said or else they would kill him. In that moment, knowing exactly what they intended, something in Daphne snapped. It all came rushing out of her in a blazing heat, the sky opening up and lightning crashing down around but never once touching her. The exact details that follow are a blur of smoke now, but when Daphne came to, it was to the smell of singed flesh. There were four charred figures, three that she presumed to be the attacks, and one that she only recognized as her fiance by his engagement ring.

What followed were years of anger, both at herself and at magic. Daphne knew that she had killed her husband, all because she had been unable to control herself. She has no remorse for the attackers, but her mourning and regret run deep. She distanced herself from everyone, unable to admit her part in his death to anyone but herself; she still wears her and his wedding rings on a chain around her neck to this day.

Daphne moved to America in the late 50s, unable to stand Greece and its dark memories any longer. She stumbled around for the next few decades, meeting people but being unwilling to grow close out of fear that she would hurt them. She also used magic as little as possible, lest she once again lost control. For over thirty years, Daphne lived her life as a human. Or as much a human as one can be when their age rate is so slowed. That changed one day in the early 90s. Daphne was working the closing shift at a diner, and had only just locked up when she found a man about to be assaulted by a another. In that moment, all Daphne could think about was her own near escape, the fear she knew that man had to be feeling, the complete lack of control — and when all of those emotions were turned on to his would-be assailant, the sky once again opened up and he was struck. The man who had been cornered, however, was untouched. Daphne broke down in tears that she hadn’t hurt someone else, and had instead saved them.

That was a turning point for her. She had spent the first few decades of her life naive and optimistic, the following years angry and scared and grieving. At the realization that she could use her abilities to help others though, Daphne became someone else entirely. She still keeps her sadness close to her chest, tucked away where very few others can see. What she projects outward is instead someone who refuses to back down, and who is unafraid to do what it takes to protect an innocent life. A few years back, she was approached by the Ursas who had followed a trail of suspicious lightning attacks and unexpected fires. The second they mentioned teaching Daphne to control and harness her powers, she was sold. If she could control them, she could save others without the risk of them being caught in the cross-fire. Daphne won’t let someone else be hurt by her again, not if she has any bit of say in the matter.

INCLINATION

When first granted magic, Vulpecula thought long and hard about how to invest it. Being the fox, the vixen if you will, it felt easy to grant its users with something akin to sex magic, or powers of a succubus. Other constellations suggested as much, relegating the powers of the fox to those of the flesh. But Vulpecula decided otherwise. Vulpecula took the rage of being boiled down to nothing but sexual prowess, and harnessed it into a force to be reckoned with. Those granted the magic of Vulpecula are lightning conjurers, and capable ones at that. It’s sponsees are typically those who have been wronged and have a strong desire to spare others a similar harm. Vulpecula also works in conjunction with two other constellations, one a water sign and the other air.

CONNECTIONS

Filling the role of Naomi Walker’s protector.

Filling the role of Micah Mitsuzawa-Hughes’ paranormal buddy.

Earth, Wind, and Fire: Vulpecula works in tandem with two other constellations (one gifted with air magic to control the winds, the other with a strong control of water to generate massive rainfall). These are typically people who have reason to be angry, or people who have experienced certain emotions to astronomical proportions. There is an unspoken rule that these three are not meant to ever have their powers interact at the same time. Doing so is liable to create a storm unlike anything modern history has seen

Penned by Jeanne ★

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 14

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor.  All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed.  The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away.  In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

-

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’.  Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma​!  @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist  |  AO3

---

Wednesday, April 24th

Wednesday dawned bright and early, and once again, Ian watched from his desk chair.

In just under twelve hours now, he would be introducing Gallifrey to Reinette, introducing her as their soon-to-be queen.

The very idea made him heartsick, but he was determined to put it behind him – except his mind refused to yield.

It drifted, giving him unwelcome visions of an impossible future with Rose.  A kiss, in front of the Archbishop and the national telly station, presenting to his subjects their new Queen.  Being coronated together, taking nearly the same vows they’d just made to each other and making them, together, to his people.  A newborn cradled in her arms, more gorgeous than ever despite her pain and exhaustion, how he’d never known it was possible to love someone so much, so immediately.  A lifetime of happiness, service to his country that didn’t feel like a sacrifice, not with her at his side, in his heart, in his bed.

There’s me, she’d promised him so earnestly.  She’d had a caveat, ‘until you find the one’, neither of them knowing at the time that she was that one.

Please don’t make me go through with this, he begged the fading stars.  Please don’t show her to me then take her away.

He received no response.

-

Rose lay curled up in her bed, crying softly as she buried her face in one of the extra pillows.  The King would announce his engagement that night, and she didn’t know if she had the heart to be there.

Mel called her name from the other room but she ignored her, not wanting her friend to see her in such a state.

You are a professional, Rose lectured herself, blowing her nose into a tissue clutched tightly in her hand.  Act like it!

“Oh, Rose,” Mel’s sympathetic voice came from near the door, only bringing more tears to Rose’s eyes as she sank further into her cocoon.

“I caught something,” Rose sniffled, adding in a cough for effect, not sure Mel would buy it but needing to try for dignity’s sake.

Her friend perched on the side of the bed, clucking sympathetically.  “I know.”  Her kind smile said she knew exactly what Rose had ‘caught’, which only served to make Rose whine and pull the covers over her head.

“He’s in love with Reinette,” she mumbled, voice further muffled by the relative safety of her cocoon.

“No, he’s not.”

“Yes, he is!  And he should be, they had a ninety-five on the index.”  Rose freed her face.  “What do you mean he’s not?”

Mel shrugged.  “I’ve seen him out the window a few times, usually walking alone.  Doesn’t look like he’s on top of the world.”

“Don’t do that.”  Rose shook her head.  “Don’t give me hope.  Oh, God, do you think he knows?!”

“What, that you’re in love with him?”

Rose flinched, the question a truth far more honest than she was ready to handle.  “I don’t know.  I do know that you’re in love with each other.  But… it’s not your fault.”

Rose sat up at that, brow furrowing.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mel gave a sheepish smile.  “I… ran you through the program.  Ninety-eight point five.  And honestly, I think that is just because of your background.”

“What do I do?  What- what am I supposed to do?”

“Tell him?”

Rose let out a scream of frustration, pulling a pillow over her face.  “I can’t do that,” she wailed.  “It has to- it has to come from him.  I can’t.”

“Okay,” her friend said soothingly, tugging the pillow away from Rose’s face, “but… can you live with him marrying her instead?”

Rose had no answer for that one.

-

After a tasteless lunch he shared with Reinette, who spent the entire time chattering on about her plans as queen and didn’t seem to notice his lack of interest or response, he went for another walk through the Palace.

He found himself back in the guest wing, rapping on the door of the mystery woman Jackie.

“Yes?” she threw open the door, eyes going wide at the sight of him.  “You’re the King!”

“I am.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before she suddenly dipped into a curtsey.  “Um, can I help you?” she asked, uncertain, and Ian shook his head.

“No, I… I don’t know why I came here.  Sorry to disturb you,” he turned to go, when she stopped him.

“Now, hang on,” she touched his arm before quickly pulling back.  “Sorry, but… clearly you came here for a reason.  Cuppa tea?”

He let the woman pull him into the room, guide him to the chair next to the sofa and began preparing him tea.

“I hear you’re to be married,” Jackie started, handing him a teacup and settling on the couch.  Today she was dressed in a tracksuit, bright pink, making herself right at home.

“Saturday.  We announce the engagement tonight.”  He stared down into his mug, wishing he had his flask and could add something to it.

“You don’t look too happy about that.”

Not meeting her eye, he admitted, “She’s not the one I want.”

“Why not?  Why don’t you marry the one you do?”

“She’s engaged to someone else.”

Jackie snorted.  “So?  You’re a bleeding king.  Pardon my language, but that’s hard to beat.”

“She doesn’t care about that sort of thing.  She’s not… she’s not like that.”  Ian sighed.  “Besides, if she’s happy, who am I to interfere?  Maybe I’ll learn to love Reinette.  Anyway, I’m sure my family considers her to be much more suitable than… than the woman I want.”

“D’you want to know what I think?”  She didn’t wait for him to respond.  “I think life’s too short for that.  You know, you meet someone, you think you’ve got the rest of your lives to spend together… but you don’t.  I lost my Pete when our daughter was just a baby.  It’s been her and me for thirty years ‘cause I knew I’d never love no one like I did him.  And as for what your family wants… so what?  My daughter, she’s got this old boyfriend who I love to pieces.  He’s family, the three of us are really all we’ve got.  If they got married, it’d make my day, right?  Only she won’t have him, and he went off and found someone else and now they’re getting married.  And Martha’s a lovely young woman, they do seem happy, but… I always imagined Mickey’d be my son-in-law someday.  But I’ve got to let that go, and let my girl find someone else.  She spends too much time setting up other people- oh.  Well, point is, you’ve got to fight for the love you want.”

Ian’s head jerked up, mouth falling open as he studied the woman.  “You’re Rose’s mother.”  It made sense, from the vague familiarity to the strong resemblance.  Plus, the pink tracksuit closely matched the scarf Rose had been looking at when they met at the festival.

Jackie’s eyes went wide, a guilty expression flashing across her face and confirming it even as she tried to stutter, “Oh, no, I don’t think-”

“You are!”  He stood, mind racing as he tried to process what she had said.  “D’you mean- Rose- she’s not getting married?  To Mickey?”

“Really, you seem to be misunderstanding-”

“Please!” Ian shouted, voice lowering to a rough tone as he repeated, “Please.  Is Rose involved with someone?”

Still looking terribly guilty, Jackie slowly shook her head.

“Thank you.”  On impulse, he darted forward and kissed the woman’s head.  If all went well, she’d be his mother-in-law by Monday.  “Oh, thank you.”

And he ran out of the room.

-

It took time, but eventually Mel was able to cajole Rose out of bed, into casual clothes, and out onto the couch.  She was still teary-eyed, but she’d been fed and was now no longer crying, though tears occasionally leaked out.

A banging on the door jerked Rose out of her half-asleep state, as she exchanged worried looks with Mel.

“Rose!”  The King’s shout echoed through the thick doors.  “Rose, I need to talk to you!”

“What do you want me to do?” Mel asked, as Rose scrambled up and towards her bedroom.

“I’m not here, or I’m sleeping, I don’t know,” she hissed over her shoulder.  “Make something up!”

Shutting her door almost all the way, she peered out as Mel let the King into their suite.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Yeah, is Rose here?  I need to speak to her at once.”

Mel’s glance darted towards Rose’s bedroom, and she shut the door a little more to keep from being spotted.  “No, Sir.  She… I believe she said she was going for a walk.”

“A walk?  Where?  Please, this is important.”

“I don’t know, Sir.  She mentioned the lake, but also Arcadia… She might have walked into town again.  Can I take a message?”

He nodded sharply.  “Tell her I must speak to her at once.  Before the ball.  It is critically important.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Message given he practically sprinted from the room, and Rose gave him a minute to be sure he was really gone before creeping back out.  “What was that about?”

“He wants to talk to you.”  Mel shrugged, crossing her arms.  “I think you should.”

“No.”  Rose shook her head, sighing softly.  “No.  I… I bought a ticket home.  The train leaves at eight.  I need you to cover for me.”

“Rose-”

“Please,” she spoke over her.  “I don’t want to hear it.  Just… please.”  Returning to her room, she shut the door.

-

Ian stopped every servant he saw and ordered them to give Rose the same message, running his fingers through his hair anxiously as he stood in the hallway, uncertain of where to search first.

“Your Majesty?  What is going on?”

He turned to find Reinette behind him, peering out from her suite.  After Monday afternoon’s proposal she’d been checked out of her hotel and moved into the Palace in preparation for the announcement.

“Nothing.”

Her expression was soft, and she let out a little sigh.  “Perhaps we should speak, non?”

Reluctantly Ian followed her into the room, settling on the couch beside her.  “Is something wrong?”

The French beauty tilted her head, watching him carefully.  “You are in love with her.”

“Her who?” he responded automatically, even as he wondered if he was really that obvious.  How can everyone but Rose know I’m in love with her?  And so easily?

“Your Majesty…” Reinette placed her hand over his own, squeezing gently.  “We cannot go through with this.  You are too in love with another woman.  And… and I deserve someone as in love with me as you are with her.  I have faith it will work out.”  And she pulled the ring off her finger, offering it out to him.

Ian’s shoulders slumped, unable to fight for something he didn’t even want.  Especially with what he did want so close to coming true.  “I’m sorry.”

“I know, cher, but we could never truly make each other happy.  I hope we may remain friends, but that, I think, is all we are destined to be.”

“Yeah.”  Taking the ring, he ran his other hand over his face and sighed.  “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.  I will make my arrangements, and leave in the morning.  Bonne chance, et felicitations.”

Ian climbed to his feet, pocketing the ring and giving her a hug.  “And you.”

Returning to the hallway, his spirits brightened at realizing no impediment existed now to keep him from Rose.  For her mother to be in the Palace, Sarah and Donna must have invited her – and they would have no reason to do that if they didn’t know where his heart stood, and support it.

Rose is going to be my queen!  Now, I just have to find her.

[renegadewangs]

Ace Mindhunter - 1st Interview

Characters: Simon Blackquill, Athena Cykes, Shi-Long Lang, and a rogues gallery of AA villains. Fandom: Ace Attorney. Pairings: N/A. Warnings/rating: 16+, I would say. Talk of heavy themes such as death and abuse, plus cursing. Spoilers for every AA game up to Spirit of Justice, AAI2 included. Gratuitous amounts of headcanon for antagonists. Summary: Simon Blackquill is roped into a Behavioral Analysis project along with Athena Cykes. They must sit down with convicted murderers for interviews, in hopes of finding out just what drove them to their convoluted crimes.

((A/N: This fic is based on Mindhunter, which is not only a good series on Netflix but an actual book written by John Douglas, the FBI agent who played a very important role in the Behavioral Science Unit from 1977 to 1995. Behavioral Science aimed towards serial killers is a real thing and it’s fascinating. As an additional note, the prison’s setup is based on AAI2′s explanation of how it all works over there, so if you never absorbed any info from that game, you might be a bit lost. 

Anyway, mind the warnings up there and enjoy!))

1st Interview Dee

Date: June 5th 2028 Time: 2:02 PM Location: Interview Room. Dee Vasquez was a woman in her mid forties, though the only reason Simon Blackquill knew this was because the paperwork in front of him told him so. Her short hair was as black as could be and her features showed virtually no wrinkles. Just as most other convicted felons, she was wearing the standard prison uniform of black and white stripes. There was also a metallic bracelet around her wrist, which ensured she couldn't leave the room without suffering a nasty disciplinary shock. Harsh as it seemed, that measure still paled in comparison to the shackles Simon had worn up until half a year ago. His own wrists itched at the mere memory of it. He had seen her around death row during his own incarceration, but he'd never paid her any mind. She had been very adapt at keeping to herself, just as he himself had been. There was something to be said about the company of fellow inmates, but that 'something' was not Simon's cup of tea. He'd had Taka. As far as he could recall, Vasquez had never been in the company of a therapy animal. “I will be recording this conversation. Is that all right?” he asked, sliding a device towards the center of the table which stood between them. As he felt it best to have her agreement on tape as well, it was already cementing the sounds in the room. Vasquez glanced down at it from the corner of her eye, but said nothing. Her expression, one of boredom, implied that this interview would be more troublesome than advertised. 'An easy start', Lang had told him. 'A pain in the arse', Simon concluded at this time. “... I shall accept that as confirmation.” “Hm.” Simon drew in a quick breath through his nose, then peered down at the prepared statement he was meant to give. Even looking at those words made him feel more formal than he would ever hope to be. Still, it was expected of him to say these things out loud. “Now, I am here on behalf of Interpol's Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he ultimately began. “What you discuss with me is subject to Interpol's confidentiality clause and cannot be used against you in your applications for parole. I'll be asking you about your family history, antecedent behavior and thought patterns surrounding the crime you have committed. Our goal is to compile several psychological profiles and, ultimately, use them to create a statistical analysis which will not include your name.” Vasquez crossed her arms over her chest, sitting back in her chair. “What is the meaning of this? I was convicted almost twelve years ago.” “The lady is quite observant,” Simon replied dryly. “As I've already stated, your answers will not serve as a weapon we may wield against you. Rather, by delving into your history and psyche, we hope to corner and disarm others like you.” “Others like me?” “Those who would take another's life and avoid their responsibility in the matter. Specifically, those who go to asburd lengths to shift the blame of that crime onto an innocent bystander.” “Innocent? Hardly.” Simon felt his eyes narrow at the statement. “You don't believe that Will Powers was unrelated to Jack Hammer's death?” “That is not what I said. However, I believe that no man is innocent.” The air with which Vasquez had uttered that statement was so very nonchalant, it came across as a fact of life rather than biased opinion. She still hadn't glanced Simon's way yet, either. She did nothing but stare up towards a far corner of the room. Why she had even agreed to sit across from him was difficult to estimate. Perhaps she'd simply wanted a change of scenery. Simon placed a hand on the table and leaned forward. “Even if no man is innocent, you are the one donning the garb of the common criminal.” “... Shouting.” “I beg your pardon?” “Out in the courtyard. Two men are shouting. Do you hear them?” Closing his eyes and straining his ears, he could indeed distinguish it. A pair of deep voices was engaged in an argument somewhere. That something so faint would catch Vasquez's attention was ludicrous, but then, perhaps anything was more interesting than Simon's words. Taking in a few seconds of the silence which reigned, he thought back to what had roped him into this situation in the first place. ------- Date: June 3rd 2028 Time: 4:23 PM Location: Simon Blackquill's Office. Even with all his past research into the Phantom, Simon had rarely ever spoken to anyone from Interpol. Perhaps it was because he didn't want them to hinder his work, or perhaps it was because Interpol itself hadn't deigned him worthy of their attention. If indeed it was the latter, the events of five months prior must have left such a grand crater that Simon, who was standing in the middle of it all, could no longer be ignored. To have a senior investigator visit him in his humble office would have been considered sudden overkill, were Simon not aware that Shi-Long Lang was long-time friends with the Chief Prosecutor. Simon's first impression was that Lang had walked through the door with extreme reluctance, perhaps even distaste. There was a particularly stiff slouch to his walk which implied as much, but it was the tone of voice which set it into stone. “Simon Blackquill. We meet at last.” “Not for lack of effort from my hand. And that's Prosecutor Blackquill, if you don't mind.” Lang's mouth curled into something of a smirk. As he made no attempt to approach Simon's desk and instead lingered near the door, Simon in turn decided not to get up from his chair. Courtesy was a favor to be repaid, after all. “Quite right. You did not clear your record for nothing. I have to say, though, the image of pencil pusher doesn't suit you at all. Lang Zi says: A wild wolf has no place among tamed retrievers.” “You must have gained the wrong impression of a prosecutor's duties from some of my colleagues. I tend not to push pencils unless the intention is for them to go up a culprit's nose.” “Getting confessions in any way you see fit, huh? That's a Twisted Samurai for ya.” Despite Simon's grin matching Lang's own, there was no covering the elephant in the room. Small talk, no matter how tinged with dark humor, was small talk all the same. The folder clutched in one of the Interpol agent's hands must have been there for a reason. “Agent Lang, humbled as I am that you would travel all the way here to speak with me, I doubt either of us are the sort to beat around the bush. Why are you here?” “Interpol has a project for you.” “I don't work for Interpol. I work for the Chief Prosecutor.” “And that Chief Prosecutor has so kindly agreed to relay all your most challenging cases, so that you may work with Interpol on a part-time basis.” A wild urge to protest dawned on Simon, only to die down as quickly as it'd arisen. If the Chief Prosecutor had agreed to this, it must've been important. Not only that; if Interpol needed assistance from a 'pencil-pushing prosecutor', they must've been desperate. He leaned forward and folded his hands together atop the desk, a very different sort of fighting spirit being born inside him. There was a fire the likes of which he'd never known; a fire which had spent the last five months smoldering due to lack of oxygen. “Is this about the Phantom?” he asked, convinced that he already knew the answer. “No,” was the unfortunate response. Lang finally approached the desk and allowed the folder to drop. It hit the wooden surface with a soft thud. His sharp gaze met Simon's head-on and when he spoke, it was in an impatient manner. “The Phantom is not your concern. It should never have been your concern to begin with.” “Agent Lang-” “Interpol has failed spectacularly in the past, but now that we have that mutt on a leash, I can assure you that the matter is ours to deal with as we see fit. No, you had best forget about it and focus your skills on more pressing, more recent problems.” Simon's eyes flicked towards the folder, then back up to Lang's face. “What is this project, then? Why does Interpol have need for my skills?” “Surely, you must have noticed. Over the past decade or two, Los Angeles has become a hodgepodge of extravagant murders, each more contrived than the next. People can howl all they want about this supposed Dark Age of the Law and how it may or may not have ended, but Interpol sees things differently. There is not a single city in the world which hosts this many desperate and innovative criminals. If there really was some sort of dark age, it was born from the killers themselves. Knowing that much, we need to take into account that fixing the court system won’t do a lick of good.” While disagreement was the first thing on Simon's mind, he decided to give the notion due thought. He visualized Geiru Toneido, who had murdered her own father by suffocating him with udon dough only a few weeks ago. That in itself was already a terrible tragedy, but her attempts to deceive everyone around her instead of accepting her own guilt had bordered on ludicrous. No common killer should have gone that far. If criminals were the ones taking advantage of the Dark Age of the Law to get away with their crimes, then criminals were indeed the root of it all. It came down to people who believed they deserved to get away with their crimes, even if the court system would normally say otherwise. “Then... What, exactly? You believe our water supply to be contaminated?” “I don't believe much of anything, Prosecutor Blackquill,” Lang said dryly, shaking his head. “FBI, CIA, Interpol... They're all scrambling to make sense of it. The Behavioral Analysis Unit-” “Behavioral Analysis?” “No need to act so surprised, I'm sure you know damn well what that unit does. Anyway, they believe the only way to get answers is to take a long, hard look at some of the killers we've caught so far. And I'm not talkin' about means, motive and opportunity- those were already established during the conviction. I mean the actual why of the matter. What drove a human being to that point in their life? Childhood, family, mindset... If we can find a pattern, we can solve murder cases a whole lot faster through profiling. Maybe even prevent them from happening in the first place.” Simon released a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes. “You believe that I ought to be the one to take this long, hard look.” “Again, I don't believe anything. I just do as I'm told.” Lang stepped back from the desk, instead wandering towards the window. “You have a degree in psychology. You have experience with constructing psych profiles. More important than any of that, you have walked the halls of death row yourself.” “You're barking up the wrong tree, Agent Lang.” “I don't think I am. You were virtually one of these killers yourself. They know your name, your reputation. And you know them.” “It is precisely because I know them that I cannot participate in this project,” Simon insisted, his voice taking on a low growl. “I know what it's like to hear the screams of those less lucid than myself. I have been forced to consume that paltry fare the guards claim to be meals, have had to endure the humiliation of sharing a shower with complete strangers. Every day, I recall how it feels to awaken on a hard cot, asking myself whether today would be the day that I die. I am a free man now, Agent Lang, with no intention of returning to that cage willingly.” “No one said you would set foot in death row. The interviews would take place in a specialized visitor's room and the participants of the study may be rewarded for cooperation if you see fit. Consider it an opportunity to pull these poor saps into more pleasant surroundings for a few hours.” “More pleasant surroundings?” Simon snarled, rising to his feet at last to stare Lang down. “Asking them relive their greatest mistake is considered pleasant to you? They already have more than enough time to reflect on what they've done.” “Which means they should be able to answer your questions with ease,” Lang rebuffed. “Listen, I’m not here because I thought I’d give you a fair shot at the job. It definitely wasn’t my idea to send a prosecutor of all people. If it were up to me, one of my most trusted men- or women- would go in there with a list of questions, but these killers don't open up to just anyone. We need to get just the right information to profile them. You fit the bill perfectly, Power of Suggestion and everything, and that's why it’s my job to persuade you to do it. If we don't find out what prompts these people to jump through hoops for killing, you're going to be taking on a lot more cases where the defense will want testimony from clowns and orcas. The Chief Prosecutor agrees, the LAPD agrees, Interpol agrees...” The hawk feather in the corner of Simon's mouth had seen better days, by now. He'd started chewing the tip of it at the start of Lang's tirade and now, fifteen seconds later, the bite marks were irreversible. The proposition made perfect sense, but that didn't mean Simon wanted to do it. Did he even have a choice? Lang didn't seem like the sort to give up easy and if that was how Interpol wished to play, perhaps it could be used to Simon's advantage. He slammed a hand down on his desk to be certain he had Lang's full attention. “I want the Phantom.” “Come again?” “If Interpol demands that I must be the one to interview these killers, then a humble prosecutor such as I is in no place to object. However, I will do a thorough job of it. As the Phantom has claimed at least two victims within our fair city of Los Angeles and went to extremes to cover it up, they have the necessary attributes to fall within the case study.” “I've already told you the Phantom is not your problem.” “If I am to accept this project-” “That's just an excuse and you know it. No one speaks to the Phantom, do you understand? Not even me- and believe me when I say that I would give an arm for the opportunity to exchange words with them. A high-profile liability like that is out of our league.” “Then, we will have to rise to the necessary level, won't we?” Simon grinned, his fingers curling along the desk's surface. “If you wish for me to compile profiles on these killers, then I will do so. However, my one condition is that should these methods be proven successful, Interpol will arrange for an interview with the Phantom. If they do not agree, they'll have to find themselves another former inmate with a psychology degree who excels at drawing the truth from people.” For a few seconds, there was nothing. Then Lang threw his head back and laughed. “All riiight, that's what I like to hear! A passionate predator is a successful one. I'll see what I can do!” “... Good.” “Looking at it from the official point of view, you'd be aiding Interpol as an external consultant and that involves a healthy helping of paperwork. Confidentiality clause and all that. I've got most of the forms here for you to sign.” Lang meandered back over to the desk to indicate the folder. “But more important than the bureaucracy of it all is the more substantial situations. This project requires discretion. We can't be seen as hassling the inmates, or they’ll take measures against us. You need to keep your head down for the most part and play nice with the other kids.” “I understand.” “We can't have you processing your findings in the Prosecutor's Office, and so, you'll have your own little spot in L.A.'s Interpol headquarters. Report there tomorrow morning and they'll show you where to go. Now, as for the matter of your partner-” “My partner?” “You can't very well sit across from a convicted killer by yourself.” “I fail to see why not. I interact with killers before their conviction on a daily basis. That is part of my job as a pencil pusher.” “It's not a question of your grit, it's a question of what Interpol would say if they knew we weren't taking proper precautions. Needless to say, we got in touch with Athena Cykes-” “You did what?!” “Will you stop barking across my words?” Lang snapped at him. “Athena Cykes has partnered with you before and despite her age, she's supposed to be the best when it comes to processing emotional responses. You can draw out all the answers you want with the Power of Suggestion, but we need to know the feelings hiding within those words and that's where her special ability comes in.” “You refuse to let me meet with killers by myself, yet you claim it's wise to have a 19 year-old girl by my side?” “That 19 year-old girl has more of a reputation than you give her credit for. She's a feisty young pup, too. Ready to jump into the action.” “You've already spoken with her?” “She's already agreed.” “Then I refuse.” “Blackquill-” “Prosecutor Blackquill. And I will not allow that girl anywhere near convicted butchers.” Lang grit his jaw, his nostrils flaring. Then he threw a glance down at his watch and shrugged his irritation off. “Fine then. Have at it by yourself, see where it gets you.” ------- Date: June 5th 2028 Time: 2:05 PM Location: Interview Room. This interview was headed nowhere at the most rigid of paces. Simon would have dismissed further attempts as a waste of his time, were it not for Vasquez's MO. She had been convicted on charges of manslaughter out of self-defense, and if indeed it had been self-defense, why had she not outright admitted to that from the start? Why target Will Powers? Had it been out of a grudge, or had she taken advantage of an opportunity regardless of who she trampled under her heel? In order to construct a proper psychological profile, he would need far more answers than Vasquez was willing to provide. The door slammed open quite suddenly and in walked the one person Simon hadn't wanted to see here. There was not a single shred of intimidation to be found in her, as if she'd walked into a grocery store as opposed to a prison. She pulled up a chair, smiling as brightly as ever, and dropped herself down on it. “Buen día! Sorry I'm late! The subway was delayed!” she proclaimed. A pause, then she leaned in closer to the recording device. “This is Athena Cykes, by the way. In case that's needed for documentation.” While Vasquez didn't turn her head, Simon could see that her eyes had moved towards the newcomer. “What are you doing here?” he asked Athena, as he thought he'd made himself quite clear towards Lang. “I'm here to help with the interview, of course! Looks like you don't have any notes yet... That's great, I was worried I might've missed something important! You've already done the explanation and the statement thing, right?” Simon managed to stop himself from grumbling and hit a button to pause the recording. This next bit didn't need to be saved for posterity: “I told Agent Lang that I would handle the matter by myself.” “Right. And Agent Lang told me that you told him that,” Athena replied cheerfully. She took out a small, colorful notebook even as she spoke. “But he also said that you're my peer, not my boss, so if I wanted to take the job you couldn't stop me.” Once again, Simon had to fight a hard battle to swallow his next words. His fierce gaze moved from Athena to Vasquez, only to note that the subject of their study was no longer looking bored. A hint of a smile had come to being on her face. Was she mocking him? Athena hit the button on the recorder again, then turned her attention to Vasquez. “It's an honor to meet you, ma'am! I have to say, I love your work. Samurai Summer, Dynamite Samurai... The original Steel Samurai is great too, of course, but there's something about those old movies that just can't be replicated.” “... You saw Dynamite Samurai? A young girl like you?” Vasquez sounded almost suspicious of the claim and Athena must've caught onto that in a heartbeat. “I did! I must've seen it ten times! When I was growing up in Europe, those old movies would rerun really often in a whole bunch of different languages. Did you know that in the German version, they changed Uncle Samuel to Aunt Sammy?” “... Because Samuel was so effeminate and close to Hiroshi, it raised questions for some.” “Right! I always thought that was weird. But you were the producer, so I've gotta know. Do you think that the change messed with your artistic vision?” “The decision was not mine to make. A producer has no influence over localization. Men felt threatened by such progressive notions and so, they did as they pleased.” Athena started scribbling down a few notes. Simon attempted to read them, only to find himself unable to decipher her handwriting. Hieroglyphs would've been preferable at this point. “That must've struck you as very unfair,” Athena surmised. Though she stopped writing, her pen remained pressed against the paper. “I'm sorry, I didn't have time to read through the profile Interpol gave us, so I'll have to ask a few obvious questions. Will that be all right?” Vasquez glanced towards Athena, only for a second or so. “... Go on.” “What was your family life like, growing up? Were your parents happily married? Any siblings? Things like that.” “My parents were just fine. I had no problems with either of them. They had no problems with each other.” Vasquez paused and her arms, crossed over her chest as they were, strained visibly. “I have two older brothers.” “Really? I don't have any siblings myself, but I hear that brothers can be a pain sometimes.” “They were exceptional pains.” “So you didn't get along with them, huh? Why not?” “They were bullies. They would destroy my things and walk away without so much as a lecture.” Athena was taking notes again, and Simon found himself doing the same. It was a relief that they were finally getting some answers, but at the same time, he was frustrated. Why was it that Vasquez would respond to Athena, but not to him? Who was the master of the Power of Suggestion, if not him? … Well, he supposed the remainder of the interview would solidify just why Vasquez was so difficult to work with. “What about your family later in life? Did you ever get married?” “I was married four times.” “Four times?!” Athena reached for the folder in front of Simon and flipped through the papers. “But it says here you were only 34 years old when you were arrested.” “No one said they were long marriages.” “What happened? Did you marry them too soon, or were you just fast to settle on divorce?” Vasquez reached for Athena's pen and pulled it from her grasp. Simon reflexively prepared himself to interfere, should there be a need, but violence was not at all Vasquez's goal. She held the pen between her index and middle finger, twirling it up and down even as she regarded Athena with a cold stare. “I was naive. I learned the hard way that men consider themselves stronger than us. The only way to survive is to be stronger than them.” “What do you mean? Did any of your husbands ever hurt you?” “Not with their fists. It was their words, their actions behind my back... My first husband found himself a new girlfriend only three months into our marriage. My second husband squandered our money. The third husband thought I should give up on my career and instead become a mother. My fourth husband was just like the first. What a joke.” “You didn't think to talk these problems through with them before slamming down the divorce papers?” Simon asked. Vasquez ignored him, instead raising the back of the pen to her mouth as if it were a cigarette. “Ah... What my partner is trying to ask is whether you communicated your concerns with them,” Athena said, and Simon felt his nose crinkle at the political wording of it all. “They would not listen,” was the ambiguous response. “Hmm... But you found other men who would listen to you, right? Even if you didn't marry them?” “Are you referring to my friends in the mafia? Or perhaps that spineless director?” “Either, really. If they listened, they listened.” “My mafia friends in particular were very good to me. They recognized my strength. As for Manella, he loved to play the part of my doormat. Masochist that he was, he was inspired by my treatment of him. I didn't even need to lift a finger. A good scolding already served as enough intimidation. One doesn't often meet a man who makes his presence worthwhile simply by being yelled at. His resulting scripts brought in good money. Still, I would not say any one of those men listened. They only did as they were told.” Athena flipped to the next paper in the folder, describing in full detail the crime Vasquez was accused of. Most prominent was a photograph, showing a man impaled on a fence while both Vasquez and another man watched in horror. “What about Jack Hammer? Did he listen to you after you made that accident with Manuel disappear?” “He had to. That does not mean he wanted to. His revenge proves that.” “Right, right... You blackmailed him and-” “Not blackmail. I reminded him of his place,” Vasquez said quite sharply. “Sorry. You kept him in his place and after five years of that, he decided he'd had enough. He came to you in disguise and tried to kill you, so you defended yourself. Or at least... That's what the report says. Could you say in your own words what happened?” “My own words... They are the same. I agree with that statement.” Before Simon could process it was happening, Athena had snatched the pen from his hand. She used it to take a few more notes. When she continued with her questions, her voice was more subdued. “Do you regret how things ended?” “I am in prison. So yes. I regret it.” “But... What about Jack Hammer's life? Do you regret ending it?” “Not at all. Jack Hammer was a murderer who should have been executed for Manuel's death. The way I kept him in line for those five years was too mild a punishment. Perhaps he came to me that day because he knew that as well. Perhaps he wished to die for his crime.” Athena exchanged a glance with Simon, who could give her no proper response. She shook her head, looking frustrated. Perhaps she could see something- or hear something that he could not. Was there a hidden meaning in Vasquez's words? Simon didn't need to ponder the matter for too long, as Athena was the one to bring that truth into the light. “Ms. Vasquez...” she began, her knuckles whitening around the pen. “The way you keep talking about men, you act as if they're all beneath you. You're filled with anger towards them. But whenever you talk about Manuel, your heart betrays grief. You must've taken his death especially harshly. Were you in love with him?” At last, some wrinkles came into being on Vasquez's face, similar to the cracks which formed in the casing of Athena's pen. “... Had Manuel been my fourth husband as opposed to the wretch I did marry, it would have lasted.” And there it was. The grandest portion of the why they'd been searching for. Simon was at a loss for words, though it didn't matter. Just as Athena had led the conversation, she brought it to its proper conclusion. “Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Vasquez. It must have been painful for you to recall such things. I have one more question for you, if you don't mind.” “One more, then.” “If you believed that Mr. Hammer's death was justified and he would have killed you, had you not defended yourself... Why didn't you admit that to the police? Why go to such lengths to frame Mr. Powers?” Vasquez brought the broken pen to her lips again, not realizing that the blue ink was staining her lips. She looked thoughtful, the most minute of frowns tugging at her eyebrows. “Is that not obvious? It is because I didn't want to go to prison.” To Be Continued

[victorianwhitechapel]

Polly Nichols', the seafaring man and the murder of Annie Smith

The day of Mary Ann “Polly” Nichols funeral was held, on Thursday September 6th 1888, the Irish Times published: “THE WHITECHAPEL MURDER Up to midnight no further information has transpired respecting the Whitechapel murder. Whatever information may be in the possession of the police they deem it necessary to keep strictly secret, but considerable activity is quietly being exercised in keeping watch on suspected persons. It is believed that their attention is particularly directed to two individuals, one a notorious character known as "Leather Apron," who has been the terror of women in the neighbourhood for some time, and a seafaring man who has already stood trial for a crime not far short of murder“.

On the JTR Forums it was proposed a suspect.

Between April 26th and May 15th 1888 many newspapers reported the Lea-Bridge Mystery. The body of Elizabeth Ann Smith, a 25 year old girl, was discovered near a broken umbrella with the handle missing in Lea Bridge (Leyton, London) by Edward Hatley and the Police-Constable Yates about 150 yards of the White House beerhouse. She had been missing for several days.

Annie Smith, as she was known, was the daughter of Mr. Albert Smith, builder who resided at Hemsworth-street, Hoxton (a district in North East London, part of the London Borough of Hackney, England) whom she lived with, along with her mother, two brothers and six sisters. She was unmarried and worked as a machinist for Messrs. Itobins, of Hoxton-street, drawing a weekly salary.

Her fiancé, a carpenter named William Steel who lived in the same street as her and courted her for six years, said he left her when he found her standing alone in a bar. He slapped her and left, but this was some days before she died and apparently the fiancé was cleared of suspicion. 

On Saturday, April 21st 1888, Annie left to Lea-Bridge, which was apparently a hot spot for the working class in the East End. There were many pubs, coffee houses, eateries, live music , and a large stage for dancing. Annie was seen by many people dancing with a well-dressed young man of about 19 or 20 whom she may have arrived with. Shortly thereafter, she was found propped up outside a coffee house. The owner carried her in and it took him about 15 minutes to revive her. He felt she had been drugged by someone who then sat her in front of his shop. He made the observation that she smelled strongly of Brandy and snuff.

When the girl awoke she spoke strong language about some unnamed man. She also mentioned she was heart-broken, because of her recent break-up. A little while later, she was once again seen with this well-dressed young man, and once again was found in a ‘stupid state’ as though drugged. This suspicious young man was not seen after this time and remains unidentified. 

Following this, witnesses saw some men talking with Annie and behaving strangely, grabbing at her dress, and seeming to pass something from hand to hand. When called out, Annie checked her purse and found her wallet missing. Had the young man from earlier stolen it while she was drugged? These young men stated they were simply trying to keep her dress from dragging in the mud. One was George Anthony, described as a “bargeman engaged on the river.” He stated that he and a friend walked with Annie a short ways but then left her when Charles Cantor (or Contor, Carter) came along. Annie said she was heading home. Charles Cantor was found and stated that he had walked with her a short ways then she went on alone. The area these men say they were at and the route Annie would have taken home were far away from where her body was discovered. She would have had to walk across a field and then into the marshes. 

Sadly, a week was lost in finding her. On Sunday the 22nd April 1888, when she had not returned home, Annie’s mother and sisters went about doing their own detective work, tracking her to the Lea-Bridge area, finding out who she’d been seen with, and even speaking directly with George Anthony and others involved. They then went to different police stations, but none of them wanted anything to do with it. The mother then went to the Worship Street magistrate and spoke with Mr. Hannay, who made sure she got publicity in the Times of April 26th. After this, the lax men of J Division were forced to take action. By the time they found Annie’s body she had been in the marsh waters for a week and half of her face as well as one arm had been eaten away by water rats. 

The police were convinced a murder had occurred and believed the girl had been ‘brutalized’. They felt the umbrella played a part. Emma Elizabeth Smith’s name was never mentioned (she'd been attacked on March 3rd and died the following day). 

It was stated in the press that the umbrella was identified as belonging to Annie, but her sister Amelia Smith swore she left home without an umbrella and had never possessed that particular one. It was found some distance from her body, but a witness at the inquest said the body could have originally been in the marshes near the umbrella and would have drifted away over the course of the week. For all we know, the umbrella could have been discarded by anyone at any time simply because it was broken. But it’s interesting that the missing handle was not found. 

Doctor Charles Taylor Aveling, divisional surgeon of police, who had had over twenty years' experience in the profession by 1888, and who was a Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, a Licentiate of the Society of Apothecaries, and a Master of Surgery and MD from the University of London, conducted post-mortem. He performed a comprehensive examination, including examinations of the internal organs and a careful search for external marks of violence, before reaching the conclusion that death had indeed occurred by drowning.

The police ended up arresting Charles Cantor and George Anthony for the crime and stated that there were two other men they were looking for as well, although charges were not pressed against the last two ones. The inquest took place in Hackney (London), and its jury, presided over by Wynne Edwin Baxter, could only determine that Annie had been ‘Found Drown’. The week in the water had taken its toll. There appeared to be much bruising about her, but the doctor Aveling felt that could also have been caused by the time in the water. He found no evidence of recent intercourse, but that would have been an impossible feat anyway after a week in the water, unless her tissue had been significantly torn, which apparently it hadn’t. 

The police proceeded with their case against the young men. Charles Cantor was eventually released on bail, because there was no evidence against him at all, the judge felt. George Anthony did not get off so easy and had to wait in jail until the time came when, lacking any real evidence against them, or even proof that the girl had been murdered, both Cantor and Anthony were let loose with fines. 

There's more information about the inquest at the London Magnet Newspapers Archive.  

George Anthony could have been the ‘seafaring man’ that the police was looking for regarding the Polly Nichols’ murder, because he was a bargeman, ‘who has already stood trial for a crime not far short of murder,’ and much to police chagrin, was let go. Both the Annie Smith and the Mary Nichols cases were J Division and investigated by the same men.

More info on Find My Past website  - April 1888 newspapers.

More info on Find My Past website  - May 1888 newspapers.

[thebifrostgiant]

If You Know Where to Look - Part 8 (2/2)

Summary: in which Loki hunts, and you listen. Thunder rumbles from a distance

Part 1 / Previous

Read on Ao3

Word Count: 2,888

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Loki/Reader

*

Chapter 8: A Crown’s No Cure (cont.)

Strangely, you haven’t seen Loki at all in the time you’ve spent around his intended. It’s not a fact that you resent in the slightest, but you’d prepared yourself mentally for having to spend time uncomfortably in his presence when Ülle wished to be with her groom, and yet you’ve seen no trace of the man since he’d left you in Eir’s halls without so much as a backward glance. It’s somewhat conspicuous, the lack of the young prince, at least to you, although Ülle seems to pay it no mind, for if she’s even noticed his absence, she’s unbothered by it. Which in and of itself is weird, since Ülle is an inherently bothered person, best you can tell.

What’s even more interesting is this one such excursion you’re on, scurrying after the tails of Ülle’s dress, when the prospective princess stops in some quiet corridor to talk to a man you don’t recognize, but must be some sort of guard or warrior judging by his substantial size and metal-plated armor. She smiles at him when she greets him, and you stare, momentarily struck by how delighted she seems, and how much different she looks because of it.

The man grins back, looking a tad confused but no less polite as he raises her hand to deliver a kiss to her knuckles.

“My Lady.” His voice is a soft, deep rumble, and he dips his head to her, red-golden hair swaying aside his bearded face.

She giggles — actually giggles! — looking quite charmed as his whiskered lips brush against her fingers, and tips her head back to blink demurely up at the man, who you won’t deny is quite handsome in a rugged sort of way. But still, you’re not sure which is more shocking, Ülle blushing, or the fact that she’s flirting with someone who isn’t the man she’s promised to.

“You know,” she says, sounding thoughtful and a bit too pleased, as she pointedly looks the man up and down, eyes lingering a beat too long on his muscular chest and exposed, sinewy arms, “You look nothing like your brother.”

And you stiffen where you stand as the words click into place, and you realize abruptly who your mistress is talking too. Then you make yourself scarce, slipping away unnoticed to wait behind a pillar.

In hindsight, it should have been obvious, because he does indeed look very much the way the rumors describe him, from the generous span of his shoulders to his lopsided smile, which looks far too endearing on someone so imposing in stature.

Prince Thor, for his part, begins to look slightly awkward, like he isn’t entirely sure what to do, and he laughs in a way that sounds kind of forced to your ears, but seems not to affect Ülle in the slightest, other than causing her face to light up, if possible, even more.

“We get that a lot,” he says, rocking back on his heels and fidgeting with a leather strap on his arm.

Ülle continues coquetting the crown prince for several long minutes, making his strained small talk seem tremendously funny and engaging, occasionally touching his arm or his hair, despite his increasingly clear discomfort.

You’re not really sure what to do. You could find some way to interrupt, to put an end to what is sure to be the biggest scandal Asgard’s had since Bor married a Jotun, but you’re acutely aware that it’s not exactly your place to do so, both because you’re little more than a glorified errand girl, and because Prince Thor is certainly capable of excusing himself, and yet has chosen to stay his feet. But do you... do you tell someone? You’re not just meant to ignore it, are you?

Caught up in your fretting, you don’t notice when Ülle leaves, but you jerk your head up at the sound of approaching footfalls and realize she is gone just as Prince Loki strides into view.

He doesn’t seem to see you, fixated as he is on Thor, and you duck further behind the marble column, hoping the loud thudding of your steadily climbing heart rate doesn’t give you away.

“Loki! There you are! Where have you been these past days?” Prince Thor all but yells as he catches sight of his brother, moving forward to intercept him and blocking your sight somewhat. You have to lean out to peer around his shoulders to see Loki’s face, and you hold your breath and mentally ask the Norns for both forgiveness and their blessing.

Loki halts, and frowns for a second, like he’d been cut off from what he was about to say, but he humors Prince Thor anyway.

“I was overseeing a personal matter,” he says smoothly, a note of finality in his voice as he opens his mouth to no doubt change the subject. But Prince Thor, sounding unimpressed, cuts him off again.

“And what matter would this be?”

Prince Loki actually rolls his eyes in a decidedly unprincely manner, irritation coming off of him in waves.

“Did I not just say it was personal?” He huffs. “If you must know, Thor, I was busy finding new homes for some rather unsavory people I’ve recently made the acquaintance of. I do hope they find the dungeons suitably hospitable.”

Prince Thor takes a step backwards, turns slightly and you can see the surprise and worry clear on his face.

“You were dealing with criminals? By yourself? Are you alright? Have they hurt you?” he asks all at once, comically looking his brother over, grabbing his shoulder then removing his hand just as fast as if he might have accidentally jarred a wound and letting it hang uselessly by his side.

Prince Loki puts up with it with a look of long-suffering.

“I’m here aren’t I?” he asks facetiously, “Alive? In one piece?” He cocks his head to the side. “I certainly feel alright, but perhaps I should double check.”

Prince Thor shifts again, and you can’t see his reaction, but you can perfectly well imagine the look of mingled fondness and exasperation.

“And what of you?” Loki asks suddenly, his posture straightening and his tone bleeding into cool amusement. “What business did you have here in this secluded corridor with my lovely future wife?”

“Loki,” Prince Thor begins warily, taking another step back and running his fingers once more along the band of leather on his wrist. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

And yeah, that is the truth, and you know Prince Thor did nothing untoward moreso than letting himself be pawed at, but he’s not exactly helping himself out by projecting an air of guilt so loudly.

Prince Loki frowns in an exaggeratedly confused way.

“And what did it look like, exactly? I didn’t see. But I did hear a few things that one would be hard-pressed to interpret as anything other than dallying. Are you next going to tell me it wasn’t what it sounded like either?”

“Brother,” Prince Thor tries again, putting his hands up to show his innocence, or perhaps to hold Loki back if necessary. “If you’re worried that I’ll sleep with her- “

“Of course I’m not,” Loki interjects smoothly, a sharpness underneath. “Sif would never forgive you if she found out.”

Surprisingly, Prince Thor snorts, inelegantly, at this, not at all as if reacting to the threat those words sure sounded like. Instead, he shakes his head like they’re sharing a joke. When he speaks, though, he is unquestionably sincere.

“I wouldn’t do that regardless of my devotion to her.”

Loki meets his eyes.

“I don’t doubt that,” he murmurs.

“Good,” says Prince Thor, just as quietly.

“Not that I’d particularly care either way, but I’d prefer to save myself the trouble of that inevitable fallout.”

Wait. He can’t mean-

“What do you mean, Loki?” Prince Thor asks, sounding far more keen than he’d been as of yet.

“You don’t think I’d willing bind myself to that woman if I had a choice, do you?”

Oh. That is what he means.

Prince Thor tugs at one of his braids.

“I’m sure Father- “

“Oh, I’m sure, too,” Loki cuts in tonelessly, a strangely burning look in his eyes. “You’re lucky, Thor.”

And he walks away, leaving Prince Thor staring after his retreating back and the sound of his boots filling the space he left behind.

Then Prince Thor is turning, and your eyes go wide as you scramble back behind the pillar, but you know it’s too late. He stalks over to your erstwhile hiding place and crosses his arms as he glares down at you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demands, and you falter under his looming presence and loud voice, unable to meet his eyes as shame sinks in.

“I- I- I- “ you stutter, failing to come up with anything to say in your defense. “I’m sorry, my prince, so sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear it!”

You fold your fingers around your sleeve ends to stop them trembling, and then wrap your arms around yourself when that doesn’t work.

Prince Thor is silent for so long, you look up anxiously, hoping doing so isn’t the wrong decision, but needing to have some idea what he’s thinking.

And he does appear to be thinking, if the bemused crease in his brow is anything to go by. Then his startlingly blue eyes land on your scar and something like recognition passes through them, and he relaxes his stance a bit.

“See to it that it doesn’t,” he says, more curt than angry now, and he too leaves, taking the hallway opposite the one Loki had gone down.

And then you’re alone, completely alone, in an unfamiliar corridor of the palace, with no idea which way to go, every fear you had of being lost here rushing back with a vengeance, and additionally, you’re in for a thorough dressing down from Ülle, one you’ve actually earned, on top of the scolding you’d already received from Prince Thor. And you’re still reeling from all that you’ve heard.

But, at least, you don’t have to make any decisions just yet, since it seems Prince Loki knows about his betrothed’s would-be infidelity.

And as you take the hallway to the right, that’s another decision taken care of.

***

You’ve been wandering the halls long enough for true alarm to set in, still without the faintest idea where you are in the palace to even have a frame of reference as to which direction to go in next. The only clue that you might be on the right track that you’ve found so far is the statue of the eight-legged horse, only you’re pretty sure it had been facing the window and down on all fours (eights?) when you’d seen it before, and now it’s the other way around and rearing, and you’re not certain if it’s a different statue altogether or if it somehow moved, because it looks like the same recess as before and-

You breathe, forcing away the panic. You turn around and continue your thus far fruitless search.

You pass several doors that are starting to look a bit familiar, and then one opens and someone lurches out and grabs you.

“There you are!” Ülle hisses out before you can scream, and well, it’s not exactly a relief to see her, but at least things can stop getting worse now. Her nails dig into your shoulder as she hauls you into the room with her and all but throws you forward as she hastily pulls the door shut.

You freeze, seeing unfamiliar faces staring at you from inside this unfamiliar room. You stare back. Your brain has not yet caught up enough to process what exactly is happening, but it appears these people are discussing something severely important, looking as they do as if they’ve been interrupted and eyeing you with clear mistrust. You don’t have long to ponder it before Ülle is shoving you again toward a cart with a jug of some sweet smelling wine and ordering you to serve everyone.

You comply wordlessly, and uneasy conversation trickles back up, sotto voce, as you fill each of the strangers’ goblets with the scarlet liquid. When you finish, you move to stand behind Ülle, hands folded and awaiting further instructions.

“What have you found out about the elder prince, Ülle?” asks a man with hair an almost preternaturally pale grey despite his semblant youth as he leans forward in his seat toward the woman in question.

Another woman, old enough for wrinkles to touch the corners of her eyes, holds up a veiny hand to stave off an answer.

“What of the girl?”

She turns suspicious eyes upon you, and you keep your head down, trying to be inconspicuous.

Ülle laughs and waves a hand.

“Her? She is mute, she does not speak. She will not be a problem,” she says dismissively, and you can’t believe it.

It’s fortunate that your face is downcast, because surely the raw shock on it would have given you away. Mute! As often as your tongue has gotten you into trouble, the idea would be almost laughable if you didn’t astutely know that you were about to hear something critical.

The old woman scrutinizes you for a long moment. You can feel her gaze burning into you, and you let your thoughts and hidden face go blank, just in case.

“Very well. Ülle?”

“Thor is easy,” she says confidently, leaning back and taking a sip of her drink. “He does not feel attracted to me, but he is honor-bound and dutiful to a fault. He will marry me if his father tells him to.”

“And a child?” the man who had spoken before questions.

Ülle grins, all teeth and no real humor.

“Like I said: easy. And what about you, Bǫlverkr? Have you procured a befitting gift for my dear husband?” The poison that drips from those last words indicates that there is no love lost between her and the prince. You wonder what this suddenly terrifying woman would consider befitting. The way she says it makes you fear it could be actual poison.

A different man tosses her a small pouch in reply, and her smile sharpens even more.

“You can deliver it to him without drawing attention or his notice?” the old woman asks Bǫlverkr.

Bǫlverkr nods, looking coolly unconcerned as he twists the stem of his chalice between his fingers, churning the wine within.

“Yep,” he drawls. “The idiot has been searching the forest for something these last few days. Alone. It is no trouble to overpower him and bestow it upon him.”

The first man who had spoken, the one with the ashen hair, raises his eyebrows, disquieted by his fellow caballer’s apparent carelessness.

“Loki is crafty in manner and speech,” he warns. “You would do well not to underestimate him.”

Ülle laughs again at this, a harsh and wholly unpleasant sound.

“The snake only hisses!” she cries, mockingly shrill. “I saw it in his eyes when I first arrived. A fool’s hope, the yearning of a child. His naivety blinds him. He believes himself the only one capable of laying a trap; he will not suspect a trick from without.”

They seem to mull this over, taking sips of their wine and measuring the weight of Ülle’s assurances. Acceptance wins out over doubt, and the old woman turns to Bǫlverkr once more.

“And when the time comes, you will be prepared to make the loss of the golden prince seem like a tragedy?”

“You know me, Siánialik.”

You blanch, and search desperately for something to do with your hands, something to make you look busy and uninterested and not at all scared. You begin clearing up the used goblets and piling them on the cart, biting at the inside of your lip to distract you and help you focus on not giving yourself away.

But you’re lightheaded in the wake of this conspiracy, this treason. Oh, fuck. That’s exactly what this is. You’re now an accomplice to proposed treason. You, now more than ever, don’t know what to do, and you think you’re entitled to be freaking out about it but you can’t right this second since you’re pretending to be an unimportant little umb servant.

“Very good,” the old woman, Siánialik, pronounces. “Vanaheim will have the throne.”

And that seems to be everyone’s cue to rise and make their way from the room, and you begin wiping the table with a rag, trying to move at a normal, unperturbed pace, and Ülle approaches you.

“When you’re finished with that, bring the cart back to the kitchen. I trust you know the way? You won’t get lost again?” she says distractedly, and you shake your head even though you’re not sure she’ll even see it, but you can’t slip up and give a verbal answer now.

As soon as she’s out the door, you let your head sink into your hands, gasping in deep breaths. You give it ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty. And then you bolt from the room and fly in the direction you’d been lost before, hoping that you’ll run into Prince Thor or Loki or anyone at all who can deliver a warning.

Part 9

[paulisweeabootrash]

First Impression: Neon Genesis Evangelion

Get in your robots, audience, it's time for Paul is Weeaboo Trash!  And today, I'm finally watching a show it seems like everyone just... assumes I must've seen:

Neon Genesis Evangelion (1995)

Episodes watched: 8

Platform: Netflix

The idea of something being a "classic" may be in decline in the anime fandom, or at least be getting very specialized, since "anime" no longer implies a narrow interest in specific sci-fi and fantasy subgenres like it used to, but certain shows still manage to pervade the pop culture indirectly.  Neon Genesis Evangelion is one such show, enduring in the modern fandom and general internet culture because of its status as one of those old sci-fi anime classics.  It has contributed memes — not just as in image macros or running jokes, but as in units of culture in the form of iconic quotes or character designs or elements of the plot — to the point that you have certainly been in some way exposed to them without any knowledge of the source material.  But despite its reputation as a must-see cultural touchstone, it has been out of print in America for years.  Used copies of the DVDs sell for absurd prices, and I don't think I knew anyone who owned it when I was a young weeb in the mid-2000s.  I'm fairly sure my family did not have cable during the one specific season it was on Adult Swim, and there's no chance I would have been up at 12:30AM on Thursdays to watch it anyway.  I am not much of a fan of media piracy and wasn't even aware of that option when it was apparently everyone else's favorite pastime to ruin their computers with sketchy torrents.  So there was never a reasonable way for me to watch it, only for me to be dimly aware that this was An Important Show I Need To See.  Until now.  Because it's on Netflix.  As if I hadn't already been awaiting it, I was aggressively reminded of it, because social media and geeky news outlets were soon blowing up with retrospectives and Very Serious Analyses — and fans of the old ADV translation were offering hot takes on how Netflix's release compares.  So let me finally check this out for myself.

We start out in the distant future of... 2015, where UN forces are defending Tokyo-3 ("Old Tokyo" is mentioned and depicted later; no mention yet of Tokyo-2 unless I somehow already forgot it) against an attacking "angel", an immensely powerful alien with barely-comprehensible powers.  Meanwhile, an officer of a UN agency called NERV, Misato Katsuragi, brings our main character, 14-year-old Shinji Ikari, to an underground NERV base under Tokyo-3 on the instructions of Shinji's father Gendo, who runs a secret research project.  Shinji has been brought there to pilot an Evangelion, or Eva for short, a giant robot operated by some sort of neural interface.  In combat.  With no training.  He is, understandably, not happy about this.  After seeing how badly injured the other available pilot, Rei Ayanami, is, however, he agrees to do it — and it works far better than he or anyone else expected.  He apparently has an innately great ability to "sync" with however exactly the Eva's interface works.  But this only gets him as far as starting the thing up.  When he actually engages the angel, he has trouble just getting the Eva to walk, and he feels the pain of the Eva taking damage once attacked, a frankly horrifying feature of the interface.  We cut to him waking up in a hospital, but having surprisingly won because his Eva "went berserk", operating on its own.  A flashback later shows what happened when he lost control of the Eva: it fought the angel by itself, but also took heavy damage, and we see its visor? faceplate? sōmen? of the Eva's armor come off to reveal a fleshy-looking face and a very biological-looking eye.  At this point Shinji blacked out, which is really the only reasonable response to this situation.

Over the next several weeks (the time scale is vague, but since Rei apparently fully recovers from the injuries she had when we first saw her before the time she and Shinji are both deployed, it must be at least 3 weeks between eps. 1 and 5), more angels appear, to the surprise of civilians and UN forces alike.  The Evas continue to be excellent weapons against them (though Shinji himself is still, uh, not great at using them), but despite having now killed several angels, the Evas are considered a ridiculous boondoggle by personnel of other UN branches, and Gendo's sinister superiors seem to be losing patience with his project.  In the words of... uh... that UN navy guy in ep. 8, "Shit!  A bunch of kids are supposed to save the world?"  The alternatives are wildly ineffective conventional weapons and a remote-controlled nuclear-powered giant robot that almost had a literal Chernobyl-style meltdown, which was averted by Misato and Shinji.  Although repairs are expensive, injuries common, and pilots in short supply, Evas indeed seem to be the only effective weapon against the invading cosmic horror, the barely-comprehensible aliens that are impervious to ordinary human technology and also don't fit our concepts of life or... uh... possibly physics.  So, instead, in the words of Misato later in the same episode, "This plan may be insane, but I don't think it's impossible."

While this is going on, Shinji has been adjusting to this new life poorly and slowly.  Despite being a pilot, he is still after all a 14-year-old, so he is enrolled into the same class as Rei at a local school whose student body has dwindled as more people evacuate over the initial angel attack.  He also needs somewhere to live, so Misato arranges for him to move into her apartment.  Some of Shinji's classmates think he's incredibly lucky to live with her, and spend a good deal of their screen time drooling over her, but Shinji is highly uncomfortable around her not just because Captain Katsuragi is his commanding officer, but also because she has a tendency to not wear much clothing around the house and is, er, a bit of a drunk and a slob.  Oh, and she has an inexplicable, clawed, beer-drinking penguin.  You know, all stuff that would make a nervous, lonely, scared 14-year-old completely at home.

Neither NERV training nor school guarantee a community, though, and Shinji, isolated and confused, could sure use one right about now.  He seems quite likely traumatized from the first battle.  He keeps ending up in situations that make him wildly uncomfortable while other characters take them in stride.  He repeatedly attempts to quit NERV or at least defy orders before backing out (or... backing back in?) at the last moment.  It would frankly be bizarre that they accept him doing this, except that (1) nobody really seems to take Shinji that seriously anyway, (2) he's the boss's kid, and (3) most importantly, it seems that only a small number of pilots, all the same age as Shinji and Rei, are even capable of using Evas.  (Wife and I are starting to suspect reasons why this might be, especially given the whole cyborgs with neural interfaces thing, but... uh... let's not embarrass ourselves with public speculations about the plot of a ridiculously famous show almost as old as we are.)  He only slowly gains any support or comfort from his new classmates and colleagues.  They don't reach out to him, and he certainly doesn't reach out to them, because who is he supposed to talk to?  His roommate/commanding officer who is twice his age?  His classmates who treat him as a celebrity, not a person, once they find out he's an Eva pilot?  Even if his default state since the very first episode hadn't been basically imploding into despair with no idea how to communicate that anything's wrong, there's nobody that really makes sense for him to try to communicate it to.  Except one person: Rei.  He notices that she's also isolated at school, and especially after seeing her dark, miserable, unmaintained apartment, he attempts to be friendly towards her.  I thought this might be a hint of growth indicating that he understands she is possibly the only person more isolated than him and the only one who might be able to relate to him, but then the next time he threatens to quit NERV after that conversation, he explicitly claims she doesn't know what he's going though, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ maybe he just has bad social skills.

Sigh.

Shinji does start to make friends with Aida and Suzuhara, two of his classmates, though.  And it's interesting because they contrast against him in their reactions to the conflict outside.  Aida roleplays being in the military and finds Shinji's role as an Eva pilot glorious and enviable.  Suzuhara is initially furious at Shinji because his sister was collateral damage — she was injured when Shinji fought the angel — and his mind is changed only after Shinji rescues him (and Aida) from an angel.  Shinji, though, having been thrust into a role he doesn't even understand and about which he is ambivalent and unstable, lacks Aida's optimistic admiration of his role and a full appreciation of either Suzuhara's resentment or gratitude.  He not only rejects their praise, he calls himself a coward during (sigh) one of his attempts to quit NERV.  It occurs to me that this could be seen as indicating different perspectives about the military (ask any American vet who's sick of being "thanked for their service"), or even different perspectives about adulthood itself — I'll bet any millennial who did not achieve their dreams can recognize Aida's "wow this is amazing I can't wait to be a grownup too" roleplaying vs. Shinji's "I am doomed and isolated by the responsibility that has been thrown at me" actual experience in NERV.

Also thanks to the school scenes, we start to learn some backstory, including the famous "Second Impact".  A catastrophic asteroid impact in 2000 melted Antarctica's glaciers, which led to unprecedentedly rapid sea level rise, leading to mass extinction, including that of half of humanity through not only direct climate change impacts like displaced populations and crop failures but also conflict stemming from it.  Or so the official story goes.  It is later revealed that the Second Impact actually involved somehow the previous arrival of angels on Earth, although this has yet to be explained in detail.  (Actually, I accidentally saw spoilers about more detail about this while revising this review, because I went to sanity-check myself about some other detail on one of the fan wikis, so I know part of where this is going, but only part.)

Over the first eight episodes, which must be several weeks at least after the start of the show given that Rei has recovered from her initial injuries (although the time scale is very vague), Shinji fights four angels total and gradually improves, but the biggest improvement comes not from him being an individual hero but from finally working well with others.  For example, the octahedral angel that drills into NERV's base has incredible abilities to detect and counter incoming attacks.  It kicks Shinji's ass on the first attempt, because duh.  But Misato devises a plan to test its abilities and concentrate the power of... uh... Japan's entire electrical grid(?!) at it from a safe distance, and the plan succeeds only because of Rei giving Shinji cover.  An angel attacks a UN ship convoy transporting the third pilot, Asuka Langley Soryu, and her Eva, and she and Shinji fight the angel together in a ludicrous fight that involves both cramming in to pilot the same Eva together (which, interestingly, requires them to give it the same, or maybe just compatible, instructions together in the same language for it to work... yay neural interfaces).  So maybe/hopefully the direction this is going is "the chosen one is a stupid idea and even talented people need both training and cooperation to not suck at things"?

Episode 8 leaves off with Asuka joining Shinji and Rei's school class, and with the dramatic and creepy reveal of an embryo encased in bakelite which is described by Gendo as "Adam, the first human"...  Well.  That comes off as the kind of thing that would drive the future plot, and hopefully all the Biblical imagery will finally start to converge into something coherent instead of just sort of serving to draw extra attention to the fact that the humans refer to the aliens as "angels".  I've been wondering about that since the beginning.  There's the title, of course, but also the sefirot in the opening and on Gendo's office ceiling, the first angel's attacks using what appears to be a directed energy weapon which invariably forms glowing crosses, and the fact that most of the angels themselves are wildly non-humanoid (a choice which echoes the rather... eldritch... classical depictions of angels — see also the seraph in the opening).  NERV's motto is even explicitly, well, monotheistic at least, if not sectarian: "God's in his heaven.  All's right with the world!", which is counterintuitive at best with the idea of calling the alien invaders "angels".

Well.  I'll find out, and I plan to write a followup like I did with Re:ZERO, going into the broad swaths of the rest of the plot and my overall impressions of how they handled things.  Especially given that this show has a famously-controversial ending.  I jumped into this determined to watch the whole series, so I'm not backing out.

I'll just threaten to quit repeatedly then almost immediately come back.

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W/A/S: 4 / 3 / I feel kinda bad about this but 4?

Weeb: I mean, anything with giant robots fighting giant monsters deserves a few points just for that, right?  I don't think this requires much by way of Japanese cultural references or assumptions to watch, though.

Ass: Nudity so far has been brief, partial, censored by convenient angles and object placement, and not remotely sexy.  Thanks to another contextless spoiler I happen to have picked up, I expect an infamous later scene that is clearly supposed to be sad and disturbing in context, which is, again, not the kind of thing this scale was originally designed to describe.

Shit (writing): Even though I tend to overall like their plots, I always sort of sigh and eyeroll at the "let's put children/teens in combat and/or experiment on and/or just plain torture them to force them to become powerful" storyline formula that’s been semi-popular for the last few decades, and Evangelion is definitely in that category.  Friends have said the story is confusing or poorly-paced, and I kind of agree but also think some of the confusion is warranted by the choice to enter the story in media res in order to reveal what's going on to the audience at about the same time it's revealed to Shinji.  As for the tendency to have some long shots where literally nothing happens, that does get annoying, and I suspect its primary motivation was to save money, but I think it also usually emphasizes how lonely the whole situation is, at least before Shinji starts to warm up to Misato and Rei to Shinji in the last couple of episodes I've watched so far (which have, appropriately, had much more action and interaction).  Mainly, my writing complaints are actually about translation, because there are some noticeable and consequential differences between translations for the sub and dub.  Yeah, yeah, I've heard of the love vs. like thing everyone on the internet is already upset about, but I haven't gotten to that episode yet.  I'm talking about things like Misato saying "it will work!" in the sub vs. just "okay!" in the dub when Shinji is first able to control his Eva, a choice which suggests very different things about both her level of knowledge of the project and why Shinji has been called on for it at all.  The new dub also feels... uh... too at home as a dub of a '90s anime, as it prioritizes matching lip flaps over flowing like believable speech.  Having not seen the old dub, of course, I can't make any kind of judgement about whether this is a step up, down, or sideways from how ADV did it.  And the sub has many on-screen captions in Japanese are left untranslated — not things like signs in the background, but actual captions the audience is meant to get information from.

Shit (other): Maybe we're spoiled in this age of computer-aided art, but i's surprising to see a show with such limited animation — speech conveyed only with lip flaps, obviously reused shots within the same episode, foreground objects gracelessly sliding against a background to indicate movement — and so I'm willing to give the show a pass on most of that, especially since the characters are distinctive and the setting and aliens and robots so interesting.  Much of the limited animation actually serves to show the vast scale of NERV's facilities and the Evas vs. the humans and/or to emphasize loneliness like the pacing.  But there really are some painful mistakes from time to time in the art: objects and faces that look utterly wrong, like the artists just did not successfully figure out how to draw that particular character or vehicle from that particular angle.  The legendary opening theme is certainly catchy — it’s been stuck in my head almost continuously for the past week — but I just don’t think I enjoy it as much as other people do.  Some of the immediate complaints that were apparently worthy of news media attention were about the replacement of Fly Me to the Moon with a piece from the show's soundtrack as the ending theme.  I understand why people would be upset by that kind of change, but I am willing to take the controversial stand that it's not a bad change.  The piece they chose as a replacement is haunting and tense, which fits in with the mood of most of the episodes so far, while Fly Me to the Moon feels to me like an inappropriate mood change from that.

Content: Actually among the least graphic of the various shows I've covered involving violent or horrifying elements.

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Stray observations:

- God it was weird to write this by constantly abbreviating “Evangelion” as “Eva”, considering that Wife's name is Eva.

- A lot of people seem to hate Shinji as a character, but I find him understandable in a way that probably implies uncomfortable things about my own sanity.  I just... I understand that sheer degree of doom and misery and indecision and inability to articulate any of those.  Man.  Ugh.

- I don't know if you've ever seen an undisguised angel, but trust me: they're horrifying.  (link NSFW)