#so yes although the evidence is circumstantial

[nwritesoccasionally]

I just watched Mudd’s Women for the first time and boy do I have some thoughts

[aubvrns]

would you be up to write for alex based on your fav songs maybee

Gold Rush — T.S

| SVU & Stories

Sypnosis — The struggle of loving Alexandra Cabot from afar, who everyone wonders what must it be like to love her.

Note — Fluff, Light Angst, Admiring from Afar, Alex being a tease but oblivious, and avoidant Reader.

(Female lawyer centered, pronouns used!)

———————————————————————

!!

Gleaming, twinkling Eyes like sinking ships on waters So inviting, I almost jump in

“Y/N? Come down here, captain’s requesting your presence for the debriefing.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in 10.” You said, tying your hair up in a ponytail before dropping the call.

You grabbed your briefcase and complied all the documents needed for the case you were working on, organizing them by size.

John usually called you whenever you were needed in the precinct right after your arraignment, but you managed to arrange your time just in case. It took you exactly ten minutes to get there by taxi, thankful for the considerate couple who let you ride before them.

Upon your entrance, you paused mid-step, a frown forming as you spotted Alex seated across from Olivia and Elliot. Your eyes swept the room, taking in the scene. "Who died?"

"Y/N, sit, no one died." Olivia chuckled, gesturing towards the empty chair beside Alex.

You sat beside the blonde and slightly moving the chair at a distance, putting your briefcase beside the chair. You can feel Alex’s gaze on you and you could only clear your throat.

"Atleast not yet." Elliot placed a file on the table and you both leaned forward to read it, although you didn’t get much far. You felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest when you saw what it was about, looking at Olivia and all she could do was shrug.

"You want us to work together?" Alex questioned, her tone derisively condescending.

Elliot crossed his arms, "For this case, yes. We’ve got serial killing syndicates across Manhattan to Harlem, and we’ve processed none."

"Okay, but why me? You’ve got Casey." You asked before turning to Alex. "Not that I have anything against you, it’s just that—"

Oh my god, her blue eyes are so pretty.

Alex pursed her lips as she stared at you, "So you basically hate me? Okay, that’s alright."

You rolled your eyes, instinctively looking away before she could see your rose tinted cheeks.

"Casey’s on a well-deserved vacation. She isn’t coming back in a week, give the poor woman a break."

The brunette uttered, "Besides, you guys are best suited for this case. Together."

You sigh, fixating on your watch before Elliot touched your shoulder to get your attention. "Y/N, c’mon."

"When do we start anyway? So far, your evidence is still circumstantial." Alex asked, crossing her arms.

"Fin and Munch called from Bellevue. Estelle Bauldelaire was overdosed with Hallucinogens. Guess who was indicted for running an underground drug cartel?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, reading the file once again when he added,

"Her con girlfriend."

—

I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush I don’t like how anyone would die to feel your touch

Alex groaned at the columns that was messily distributed on the carpet. Her hands folding the papers, clearly frustrated. "This is sickening."

You sat on the floor with her, leaning back to the edge of the couch before helping her categorize the files.

"Don’t be so dramatic, Cabot. We haven’t even started yet."

She dragged an exasperated exhale and composing herself together. This wasn’t the first time you both worked on a case. The last case you’ve worked on together was successful at most, winning effortlessly.

Unfortunately, the only disadvantage was that you have had a something for her in forever.

A feeling in your chest that you couldn’t shake off everytime she was ever near you. How your cheeks heated up when she gives you the minimum of attention.

It was ridiculous. The way you couldn’t make eye contact when she was talking to you. You honestly felt like a teenager obsessing for sweaty basketball players during Field Day, that was exactly how it was with Alex.

"How can we work on our arguments when we don’t even have an indictment yet?" The blonde reasoned as she sipped from her coffee mug.

You played with the brim of the paper, "Well, Estelle is bound to go to trial. All we can do is sit here and wait."

A moment passed and the silence was deafening. You two were skimming throughout the textbooks following the Bauldelaire case, writing on colored sticky notes.

Then, a knock came onto the door, disrupting the adequate peace.

"Lex?" An unfamiliar man seeps in the door. Alex smiled and stood up, walking over to him.

With her hand on the side of the door, they talked together remotely which leaves you with your lonely, forlorn self. You wondered what on earth could be so funny that you heard Alex laugh, the soft sound warming your heart.

Alex welcomed him to her office, introducing him to you. "Y/N, this is Dr. Huang. If you don’t mind, he’ll stay here for awhile."

The doctor waved his hand to you, offering a warm smile before reaching to shake your hand.

You accepted, shaking your head in response, "No worries, I was about to leave anyway." Your nails dig against your palm, fixated on the documents you reviewed before uncluttering the mess.

Really, when you said we haven’t even started? Alex thought and watching you clean after yourself. She didn’t want you to go so soon, but assumed it was because of the unfamiliarity.

You wish you hadn’t made such a disorganized space. It was awkward to crawl on the floor as the two chat in front of you. You saw how he fixed her hair, tucking it behind her ears, making you want to crawl out of your skin.

Fortunately, you finished putting all the documents and notes inside your briefcase. With a simple glance, you take in Alex once again. Looking at her smile as she talked to the doctor made you wish it was you she was talking to.

Bidding goodbye, you exit the office with a heavy exhale, alongside a heavy heart.

—

Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you Walk past, quick brush I don’t like slow motion, double vision in a rose blush

A few days later, you had finished practicing, done reviewing, and gone to the precinct.

You stopped at a local bistro to order coffee, from a very pleading request by the captain. They forgot to restock their needs, and luckily, you were patient enough to buy some.

You got out of your car, firmly holding the cups as you press the buttons on the elevator.

When you arrived to the floor, you were swarmed by alot of civilians. They kept yelling, being strided away by the detectives.

Because of the cramped area, you were pushed by the people backwards causing you to spill a cup of coffee to a woman’s shirt.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" The lady barked, causing you to flinch slightly at the volume of her voice.

"I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

The next thing you know, a hot, searing pain came running down your shirt. You wince in affliction, dropping the rest of the cups on a table before escorting yourself out of the room. You were truly sorry, but you couldn’t handle the embarassment of it all.

Thankfully, the bathroom was empty.

You locked the door, taking your blazer off. Luckily, you have always brought an extra shirt in your briefcase.

But your smile quickly falters when you realize you left it in your car.

Closing your eyes, you accepted defeat. You should have been more careful, and if you were, you wouldn’t have been drenched in coffee.

A knock came to the door caught your attention. You hands frantically put on your blazer, "Wait a second!" You exclaimed, unable to hook the buttons properly.

"It’s Alex. You okay in there?"

You slowly opened the door, revealing the concerned woman. You bite your lip in unease and let her inside the comfort room.

"Can you give these to the woman and tell her I feel sorry? It should be enough to dry her shirt."

You handed her a packet of wipes. But instead of accepting it, she took a wipe and rubbed it on your what-was-once pristine shirt.

"You shouldn’t feel sorry, Y/L/N. What she said and did was so out of line. It was just an accident."

You slightly panic, feeling her wipe your skin. Out of the awkwardness, you gently take the wipe from her, "Thank you. I really think I should get home, though,"

She gave you this sorry look, taking your hand in hers before opening her mouth to speak. "I’ll tell the others you had an emergency. But why did you buy coffee?"

"Captain called me asking if I had time to stop by. Why?"

"I already bought the squad coffee with Huang. Olivia asked us before we left my office."

Oh.

You’ve been waiting for twenty minutes for their order, swarmed by half the population, and drenched in caffeine. In conlusion, you went through the depths of hell.

You let out a breathy exhale, exhausted and uncomfortable. Your eyes stared to prickle, and you knew you had to leave.

"I have to go."

As you walked out of the bathroom, the feeling of your hands leave hers. Alex called out, "Y/N, wait—"

Alex followed after you, only to be called out by Dr. Huang. She stops, her eyes drop apologetically and watching you walk away.

She saw your eyes glance back at her, with George beside her. Your tired eyes, closing with the doors of the elevator.

She didn’t want you to go.

If only you knew.

—

But I don’t like a gold rush What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? With your hair falling into place like dominoes My mind turns your life into folklore

The evening passed fairly quickly, a storm brewing in the sky. You had took a long shower, yet the sting left a bruise. You applied ointment on your chest, squirming at the desolation. You were unsure if it was just the sting that hurt you, or the fact that you were jealous.

You had no right to, anyway. It’s just that you and Alex once picked up coffee for the squad, and hearing her do the same with someone else hurt your feelings. But you weren’t special. You were just a colleague.

Her warmth remained like the sun. So tender, yet so far. You could only watch as she shines her light for others, dreaming you were her favorite flower.

When you came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around you, the doorbell rang.

It was late in the evening, who could be outside your apartment this behind?

You walked down the stairs, the towel secured around your body. You look out the window, and you saw a familiar blonde.

You open the door, close to ajar. "What are you doing here? It’s raining, Alex." You opened the door, a gesture for her to come in.

She was damp, assuming she ran from her car to your doorstep. You rushed to give her fresh towel, placing it over her shoulders.

"We aren’t dating."

"What?"

"We aren’t dating."

You narrow your eyes in confusion, "What do you mean, Alex?" You close the door before the rain seeps into your apartment.

"Me and Huang, We aren’t—"

She was crying.

You stood there, unsure what to do. You have never saw Alex cry, let alone infront of you. You quiver in silence, letting her proceed.

"We aren’t dating, okay? So stop running away from me like you hate me!" She blurted, her composed mask slipped away.

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What do you mean I hate you? I don’t hate you, Alex!"

Even if I tried to.

She wiped her eyes, breathing uneven, "Then why do you keep avoiding me? Why do you keep bolting away when I’m trying to be there for you?"

"It’s because I like you, okay!"

Alex stared at you in shock, her attention was drawn to your nails digging your palm. A habit you did when you were tense. She noticed. She always had.

"I liked you from the moment I met you, and the feeling never went away. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t, but I couldn’t. How could I possibly do when simply seeing you makes my heart beat out of my chest? It’s—," You breathe, your heartbeat quickened as she looked at you.

"It’s ridiculous, and I avoid you because of it. I know you don’t feel the same way, Alex. But I told you because I don’t hate you. I really don’t—"

Alex cut you off with a soft kiss and Oh, Her lips are so soft- She brought her hand to cup your cheek as your hands went up over her neck.

You traced her jawline with your thumb as you kissed while her other hand was at your waist delicately digging your fingers into your towel, holding your body close.

You pulled away, breathing heavily.

She stared at you, her hands remained on your waist. In her eyes, with ever so adoration, looked into yours.

"How do you know I don’t feel the same way? Are you psychic? Because I do, from the moment I met you."

Quoting your words, you were lost for any. You expected her to let you go, but her arms stayed where as they were.

"I won’t let you run away again, ever." Her head found its way to the crook of your neck, feeling her inhale your scent.

"But what about Dr. Huang? Doesn't he like you?" You softly said. Remaining still as you savor the moment between you and the blonde, she pressed a kiss to your shoulder blades.

"God, I forgot your gaydar was so bad."

!!

[my-mt-heart]

Hi - I was at Tribeca and while I tried to post nothing got posted to the tags (damn hellsite). Here are some impressions:

Tribeca Film Festival - DD: TBOC

So I just got home and really enjoyed the first episode of TWD: Daryl Dixon - The Book of Carol. The show runners asked people not to spoil too much about the episode or the discussion, and since I work in a creative field, I'm going to adhere to their wishes although I realize people are going to people. Super minor spoilers ahead, so ignore if you want to wait until September.

Key takeaways in no particular order:

Episode 1 is heavy on Carol which is SUCH a relief as I find the French cast a bit dull at times

Carol does something so morally...questionable that I get why people don't love her but damn it was great to see Melissa McBride act her ass off

I'm fairly certain (spoiler here) that Cherokee roses don't grow in Maine

The talk afterwards only lasted a half hour and not much was revealed.

Norman spoiled that Caryl meet up in Episode 2, but in such a way who knows if that is true...

Norman and Melissa did a lot of communicating via eyes and mouthed words - it was too cute to watch

There was talk of "thing being resolved" and about how the original series left things unsaid that gave my little shippers heart some hope

Thanks for taking the time to share your experience. I'm really glad you enjoyed it. Here are my takeaways from your takeaways haha

I was really hoping the episode would be Carol heavy. We know she/Melissa can easily carry a show and we need some quality time with her, not just because we missed her, but to establish that this is going to be her story too.

Based on another anon's comment, I think I know what you're referring to that's "questionable. I suspect she's being driven by her desperation to find Daryl. She's the character who always makes the hard choices "nobody else will" for the people she loves, but I need to see how it's shaded.

I don't know about the roses specifically as an example (it sounds like it was a sweet scene at least), but Zabel and co. are all about cheap gimmicks. Nostalgia/shock/convenience come first, logic last.

I got the impression he was joking. There's a lot of circumstantial evidence that points to a reunion in the back half, but also, who knows. I don't like Caryl being separated because they have been for so long already, but if it's clear they're both trying to get back to each other, if they stay spiritually connected and we get the payoff we've been waiting for, I'll be okay.

The status of Caryl's relationship was definitely left unsaid in S11, even with their "I love yous" and Melissa even said that Carol was feeling "unsettled" watching Daryl ride away. So, yes, I really want that resolved by 206. Aka, I want canon. I'd actually love to hear how Carylers who saw 201 interpreted that element of the story. Forget about Zabel's saying "friends" a million and one times. Forget about the synopsis. You can be as specific or as vague as you want. Going off of Carol's moments of reflection and Melissa's performance, does it seem like the romantic undertones we've always seen are still there? Like it could lead somewhere? I'm asking because I'm picking up on multiple discrepancies between what the male EPs are preaching and what's actually making it onscreen according to fans.

[schreiberling2021]

The four underwater promts for a short story. @animalecfest

September 18 - Ring

For three weeks Magnus was on the water on his small research boat. Incessantly he circled the small island on which he had set up his research camp. Although camp was a very optimistic description for his tent with water tank and work bench. A large supply ship had dropped Magnus off near the island and would pick him up again in three weeks. Hopefully enough time to find evidence for his theory of a submerged island group with human civilization at this point in the Pacific. Yes, it sounded a lot like the search for Atlantis, but Magnus wasn't looking for an advanced civilization, just evidence of settlement. He had found circumstantial evidence in various historical writings. Even Darwin had briefly mentioned this small island. Only at that time it had been a group of five islands and the other four must have perished in the last two hundred years.

The islands were arranged as a ring, so Magnus had to come across their tracks at some point if he continued to search in widening circles into his starting island. It was the 22nd day of his journey just before sunset when he saw it for the first time. The sun made the water glisten like a dream and Magnus had sat down to admire the play of colours before heading back to his camp. There among the waves in crystal clear water were stones, large symmetrical stones. This was not a natural structure. Fascinated, Magnus stared at the waves, then his explorer brain kicked back in. He marked the spot with a buoy and noted the coordinates. Then he hurried to get back to his tent before complete darkness fell over him.

OoO

With barely enough light to make out his feet on the ground, Magnus jumped out of his sleeping bag and made his way to the spot he had marked last night. The sea was calm, the wind still, perfect conditions for diving. To his amazement, Magnus didn't have to go down very deep. After only a few meters, he came across the rocks he had seen yesterday. He took the coordinates of his first find and decided to look around first. The water was completely clear, not even a fish could be seen. The stone stood vertically up from the seabed like a column. And he was not alone. Every few meters, more stone pillars rose toward the sky; Magnus counted a total of fourteen pillars arranged in a circle. A ring of stones that immediately reminded the young man of Stonehenge. Curious, he swam at each of the stones, circling them and recording their data. They stood nearly four feet in the air, the water letting through just enough sun to cast an enchanted pattern on the stone slabs at the bottom. The ground was also laid out with worked slabs in an intricate mandala - mosaic that Magnus could not assign to any surrounding culture.

In all his fascination he did not notice how he was being watched. From a dark cave at the edge of the stone circle lurked a creature whose existence the explorer would have immediately denied. The red tentacles were almost brown, perfectly adapted to the environment. The torso of the octopus slowly transitioned into a human one. Both shoulders and muscular nurse suggested a strong swimmer and fighter. The dark hair tangled around his head and the brown eyes seemed almost black while watching the intruder in his realm.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Boscombe Valley Mystery pt 3

So, we're looking for a man with a limp and a blunt pen knife... Surely there can't be many of them in the countryside!

"Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me expound."

Just sit there and let me talk at you, Watson. There's a good chap.

Odd to see Holmes actually asking for advice, though. Usually he only does this to try to get Watson to work through his method and come to the right conclusion - at least that we've seen so far. And he stated at the end of the last section that he had the solution. So what does he need advice for? Does he think that the murderer should go free again?

Or is the murderer the guy who is dying?

Clearly James McCarthy, Ken extraordinaire, shouldn't be hanged for a crime he didn't commit, though. And if the man is already dying then is the death penalty really a penalty to him?

"One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat."

Ah yes, my theory did not explain the rat.

Hmmmmmm...

"But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia."

Check.

This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand over part of the map. "What do you read?" "ARAT," I read. "And now?" He raised his hand. "BALLARAT."

Aha, a place name... now I read it, I do remember that... unless I'm remembering something from Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries. Yeah, I think they go to Ballarat in that.

But, more importantly, my theory is still valid and has yet to be disproved.

Less likely it's Turner, though, because why would he specify Ballarat when the son knows Mr Turner well?

"By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal."

OK, now that's just mean. This story is giving me whiplash about his and Lestrade's relationship. Are they friends or do they hate each other? Although with Holmes, calling someone an imbecile might not even be an insult. But it does seem particularly insulting here.

"Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is—" "Mr John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.

I mean, I'd argue that all Holmes' evidence is circumstantial and couldn't stand up in court. There could be any number of people in the country that smoke cigars with a holder, haven't sharpened their pen knife in a while and who had a limp on that particular day. And the reference to Ballarat doesn't even have to be the name of the murderer. The guy was struck from behind. Are we even sure he saw his murderer? We need more than that.

But mostly I quoted this bit because I love the dramatic cut with Watson about to say the name and then DUN DUN DUUUUUN the person the audience must assume the evidence points to is right here! It's very cinematic, not that that would have been a thing at the time. But it seems very cinematic now.

"I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a jail."

OK, fine, so it was Turner. The old woman was innocent.

Still think she was up to no good, though.

It's really jarring to see diabetes here as a definite death sentence, even though I know that before insulin, and then synthetic insulin, it essentially was. It's just... We're all so used to the use of insulin that it feels strange to see it written about like death is a certain thing. I don't think about my friends who have diabetes as being particularly sick, because they have the tools to manage their condition.

I looked up the timeline of insulin and it was first manufactured in 1922 and it was the 1923 Nobel Prize for Medicine that was awarded for the discovery of its use. Synthetic insulin didn't come around until the 60s. At the time of this story the only treatments were diet and exercise. I assume, because of his age, he has type 2 diabetes, not type 1. Either way, it's strange thinking how far medicine has come in just over 100 years.

(Of course, access to insulin is another thing entirely... I'm over here in the UK with free healthcare and cheap medicine, so there's that.)

"I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang."

I'm not feeling particularly sympathetic for Mr Turner so far. 'Oh, I got in with bad companions and I was drunk.' This does seem a little bit like you're making excuses for your choices. And then the end of this little description doesn't exactly scream 'remorseful'.

"There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley."

Yeah... that's still murder, my dude.

"There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it."

I mean, great. But still... from your story it sounds like you killed a lot of people before him and then went on to live a comfortable life with the money you stole from them. I mean... it is all a little 'kill the billionaires' with the gold and stuff, but that was only one of the highway robberies you committed. And it seems like that was the Big Score, so before that you were just robbing and killing anyone who looked like they might have something you wanted?

So glad you chose to turn over a new leaf. Very happy that you were aiming for a redemption arc. I'm just not sure that murdering a man, even if he is a blackmailer, is the best sort of redemption arc to have.

"But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough."

And that's all a bit mean to poor James, and a little bit eugenicist. It's not James's fault his father was a blackmailer. And if you believe in that sort of genetic predisposition, then what does it say about Alice being your daughter, given the crimes you committed? Murderers in glass houses, you know...

"He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets."

See, this is what I meant when I said the conversation could definitely have been relevant to the murder. Because clearly it was.

"Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out. "I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation."

Can you judge him just a little bit for being hypocritical? Just a little bit?

"...if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us."

Holmes really doesn't like blackmailers. That's fair. And he clearly believes in second chances. I'm still a bit struck by how Mr Turner started off his entire story by refusing to acknowledge his own culpability in things. Sure, he says he tried to make up for it by doing a 'little good', but this is such a weird story.

On the one hand, yes, second chances are important and Mr Turner does appear to have made the most of his.

On the other hand, he doesn't seem to have taken responsibility for his actions and he went on to live happily with the money he got by killing people.

And also he's like 'Alice is perfect' but 'James is cursed'...

Eh... I'm not sure he deserves to get off for this one. Mr McCarthy was a terrible person, but the thing he was blackmailing Mr Turner about was literal murder. Multiple counts of it. But then I don't agree with the death penalty at all.

I just... this is weird. I am in a quandary. From a purely fictional perceptive, good for him killing McCarthy, who seems to have been terrible and good for him for turning his back on his life of crime and becoming a better person. Which is what we really want from the justice system, tbf. So I guess I'm talking myself into being on his side.

I just... I'm not fully on his side. I just can't quite commit to it. Guy says he was trying to make up for how he earned his money, but it just doesn't quite ring true to me.

"Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, 'There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.'"

What the fuck kind of dark secrets lurk in Holmes' past that he thinks he could be blackmailed about? Has Holmes murdered people? Seriously... there's a direct comparison here between a man who confessed to being in a highway gang that robbed and killed people and Holmes, made by Holmes himself. 👀

James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past.

Oh, a happy ending! James and Alice are happy together, in spite of the fact that Turner really didn't want that to happen (ha!). BUT, Watson... Watson... You have once again published the secret thing for all the world to read. Watson, they might read this. Watson?

[jeannereames]

Hi again Dr Reames! Thank you so much for your explainer on Macedon's relationship with neighbouring Balkan cultures last time. So, another question on cross-cultural ties:

Do we know if the period of Persian hegemony over the region left any impact on how the Macedonian state was run? 

Obviously, the Argeads got to keep their jobs, and my impression is that the Achaemenids rarely intervened in the internal governance of their satraps (outside of wartime levies and big projects like the royal roads). But I also read in Maria Brosius' A History of Ancient Persia that the neighbouring Odrysian Kingdom deliberately modelled its court after the Achaemenid one, and that the Greeks adopted a lot of Persian apparels and everyday items over centuries of cross-Aegean relations.

So did the Persians leave any lasting influence on the Macedonian bureaucracy, court culture, etc.? (Brosius also mentions the Persians identifying the Thracian Getai as a sub-set of Scythians, which had me wondering about the extent of cultural exchanges between Iranian steppe peoples and other cultures of the southern Balkans/west-of-Black Sea region in this period).

Thank you once again for your time!

The answer is, we think, quite a lot—but exactly what is less clear. Like the Odrysians, the Macedonians seem to have borrowed a fair number of court structural ideas. Alexander I also took advantage of Persian assistance to secure his hold on much of the northern area, expanding Macedon and seizing silver mines, through which he enriched his own coinage.

In In the Shadow of Olympus, Gene Borza has a good chapter on Alexander I. Some things are a bit dated now due to recent archaeological discoveries, but the basics are the same. I recommend reading that (the whole book, in fact). Vivi Sarapanidi also has several good articles in English on the significance of archaeological discoveries up there—and separates some of those cultural trends from Persian influence. I’m deeply interested in Late Iron Age/Archaic Age developments in the north, what Macedon borrowed and what it didn’t. A sense of sumptuous royal style is something they shared regionally, not something they got from Persia.

What Macedon did borrow seems to be new offices and ideas for running a court more effectively. So, creating a Royal Bodyguard (Somatophylakes) as well as a special fighting force around the king as a “bodyguard” in combat may both be Persian adoptions, although the reason for “7” Somatophylakes is unclear. Perhaps it reflects the seven princes of Fars who had special status with the Great King at court, but I find it unlikely that Alexander I would adopt a number based on Persian elite. More likely, it reflects the number of high-status clans (Hetairoi) in Macedon at that time; one Somatophylax from each family/clan?

Also, a “combat bodyguard” is something we see in many kingdoms, not just Persia, so that may not be Persian after all. But certainly the Great King from Darius, and possibly Cyrus, forward had the Apple Bearers (Melephoroi) to guard him in battle.

Like Macedon, Persia evolved across time, and our paucity of surviving records, as well as the tendency for Greek writers to project traditions backwards, makes it tough to know when any given element entered into Persian practice.

Another office that may owe to Persia are the King’s Boys (Paides Basilikoi), also called Royal Pages. As with the Somatophylakes, we don’t know when they were instituted. Circumstantial evidence suggests Archelaos, at least, may have had them, but the account of his “accidental” spearing during a royal hunt doesn’t call the boys assisting “King’s Boys.” Their ages aren’t clear; they’re just “youths.” So probably Pages, but unclear.

Finally, offices such as Royal Secretary may owe to Persian example. Yet again, such an office would be a logical extension of increased correspondence. Did the Macedonian court borrow it, or simply decide they needed one due to circumstance?

So, yes—the general assumption is that Macedon borrowed ideas from the Persians, perhaps even a lot of ideas, but pin-pointing what can be tricky. While we don’t want to deny Persian influence, by the same token, we don’t want to assume “Persians” for traditions that may be indigenous, or at least a regional shared culture.

[thoughtfulfoxllama]

Women & the Priesthood

I'm kinda wondering when my takes will get the Correlation Office after me. I mean, I'm in the Sunday School Presidency in my Ward (even though I keep it correlated whenever I teach. It's a Milk-Meat Situation)

So, what do I think of Women and the Priesthood? It's complicated, and to explain it, I need to explain the Temple Ordinances. In "The Power of Godliness: Mormon Liturgy & Cosmology" by Jonathan Stapley, he mentions the concept of Cosmological & Ecclesiastical Priesthood. Ecclesiastical is the Priesthood required to run the Church, and Cosmological is the Priesthood used by God to do what he does. The Endowment covers the story of Creation, and as such, is a use of Cosmological Priesthood. This is why Sisters are allowed to perform certain Ordinances for other women in the Temple. This is also connected to the "Patriarchal Priesthood," in that the Mother can act as a Priestess for her family (although, the Patriarchal Priesthood is something I don't fully understand, so idk what that would entail. Would a mother be able to give "Mother's Blessings" for example)

So, women have access to Priesthood through the Temple Endowment. But, what about outside the Temple and Family? This is a whole thing in the various restoration branches, and religion as a whole. The Community of Christ has allowed Women to be ordained since the 80s, and a woman is going to be the next President. Strangites allowed women in certain offices (all offices of Deacon & Teacher, and the Singer office of Priest). I learned in doing my Polygamy Essay that Fred Collier believed that the Melchizedek Priesthood is the Men's Priesthood, and the Aaronic is the Women's, which is reminiscent of the Strangite perspective, despite being Brighamite (his Church also worship Eve as Heavenly Mother, because they believe in the Garden Cosmology). Outside of Abrahamic Faiths, many religions have Female Priests. Even in Abrahamic Faiths, there is evidence that Women were priests in early Judaism & Christianity (although, it is more circumstantial in the case of Christianity. A woman was called a "Deacon" in Acts, but that just means Servant. Mary M is called "the Apostle of Apostles," but this could be due to her high status as the Savior's wife follower. Overall, not convinced, but Female Priests in First Temple Judaism is indisputable)

Within the Family, Women and Men have the same Authority (as part of the Patriarchal Priesthood), but as I've said, I'm unfamiliar with what the Patriarchal Priesthood actually authorizes. Outside however, if women are going to have the Priesthood, it would be a unique Priestesshood, and it would be unable to be given to women by men.

In my opinion, the Nauvoo Relief Society was supposed to be the Women's Priesthood, but a number of issues (mainly the Succession Crisis) messed that up, so Women never got their ecclesiastical authority (as many had gone through the Temple), or had the opportunity to learn what to do if they did receive it. This is most likely why women would perform healing blessings (they didn't know what they could do, so they copied the Elders. Joseph did say this was acceptable in the first RS Meeting, but in the name of Christ, and not by the Priesthood). In some coming day, the Lord will most likely restore that Authority to the Church, and teach us what they can do with it

But that's just my opinion. This is probably my hottest take, but it's the most uncertain I've been so far (yes, I'm more convinced we can have beer more than this). These are just my thoughts, but my thoughts are evolving. I'll probably have a different perspective this time next year. So, like my others, let's discuss this. What do you think I got right, what wrong? What sources do you have that support me, that are against me? Let's make this post look like my High School Debate Class

[sublimeobservationarcade]

Humanity And Our Predilection For Fictions

I was watching an interview with Yuval Harari, the author of Sapiens, recently. When asked about the historical veracity of Christianity and, indeed, all religions, Harari described them as fictions. He is, primarily, a historian, and I myself studied Ancient History for some 5 years. The historical evidence for Christianity and Judaism does not stack up. I liked the way that he calls these collective beliefs ‘fictions’, rather than lies. Although, I well understand those among us who get het up about organised religions and the damage they have done over millennia. Humanity and our predilection for fictions.

Photo by RDNE Stock project on Pexels.com

We All Love A Good Story

We all love a good story and, indeed, this is how we learn. Dry facts and figures alone will not stick in our brains. We, invariably, must weave these into narratives. Every religion has a foundational story at its heart. Gods are our final answer for everything. Ultimately, we like to handball off responsibility to a divinity. Religions are not, by any means, our only shared fictions. The concept of money is a fiction; and a religion for many. Most people do not know where money comes from and who creates money within our sovereign economies. Yet, money plays such a large part in our lives from the cradle to the grave.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com God & Money Are Fictions Banks don’t lend money, rather they create it every time someone provides collateral as a promissory note in return for this bank money. Yes, the banks charge interest on this money, as well as listing it in their asset column. When we pay back that money to the bank, that money, those figures on a screen are wiped off and only the interest earned by the bank remains. Money is a concept, an agreement between parties, and in this regard it is a fiction. We need the fiction of money, that we all agree on, so as to pass the parcel around within our economies. Buying and selling, paying taxes and fines, would all be more difficult without the concept of money. Money, however, is not linked to a gold standard, as it once was long ago. Therefore, it has no actual tangible reality beyond its shared agreement between us and our government and central bank.

Photo by João Jesus on Pexels.com Similarly, for those who believe in an all powerful deity. There is no tangible evidence for the existence of such a figure. Christianity, for example, was a story which emerged around two millennia ago in what we now call the Middle East. This fiction was picked up by the Roman Empire in the 4C by several leading identities. It was a seemingly unlikely occurrence and some have pointed to this as proof of its divine source. However, circumstantial evidence is never considered as incontrovertible proof for things. Stories, memes, and collective trends are constantly making their way around the world and time is not something short-lived human beings can ever quite get their head’s around. In all of recorded history there has never been any incontrovertible proof of the existence of God – despite this billions of people still believe in some deity or another. Human beings have a predilection for fictions.  

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com “The burning question raised by Harari’s observation regarding humans’ imagined realities is that, if much of what human societies have taken to be Truths are no more than imagined realities or fictions battling with other imagined realities and fictions in the arena of public opinion and politics (think Islam vs. secular humanism, Catholics vs. feminists, neoliberals vs. progressives, capitalism vs. democratic socialism, Bitcoin vs. national currencies), by what imagined reality or fictional measure can or should we judge and choose among competing fictions.” - (https://medium.com/nosce-te-ipsum-crea-te-ipsum-know-thyself-create/sapiens-imagined-realities-meaning-and-yuval-noah-hararis-values-3637ae438b83)   Robert Sudha Hamilton is the author of House Therapy: Discover More Of Yourself At Home ©HouseTherapy   Read the full article

[rfhusnik]

Cliched Codes: I'm Not A Teenager Anymore

      Written By:  Co Vet

            I’d like to begin these words by thanking Mayor George Jennifer and his, as he terms them “supervisors from other earthly realities” for permitting me, for a second time now, to expand upon some miscellaneous thoughts in this his city’s primary forum. But, in truth, while I am sincerely grateful for this second written opportunity, I’m also again displeased that the mayor has once more denied my physical presence within his city’s limits. “Why won’t you allow me to meet you and some of the residents of your city?” I asked him via a telephone conversation.

            “We’re afraid that your physical presence here among us might be so dominating as to actually overwhelm us health-wise” he replied.

            Thus, I guess once again my visit to the city will be done compositionally rather than in person. And I’ve heard that there were some who, after I’d submitted my first installment to this forum, expressed their disapproval that I’d been allowed to access them via written words. Nevertheless, I feel I can say without boasting, that the impact I’ve had worldwide warrants my second prosal opportunity here. And I know that, well, almost everyone still affixes the number nineteen to me. And that doesn’t bother me, but time does continue on; and people, and other physical entities do change with its passage. And personally, I guess I’d say that my most significant change has been that lately I’ve been trying to appear in “variant versions” of myself! And yet, even though everyone still envisions me as being nineteen, I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And I know that rightfully, youthful advice givers aren’t often taken seriously because at an early point in their lives they simply haven’t lived long enough to have accrued a meaningful amount of real world knowledge. Thus, for those of us of fewer years, it’s probably better to listen than try to be heard. But, in my personal case, of course I’ve been an unfortunate exception to the rule just stated. And I think I can truthfully say that I’ve already done enough to have cast an everlasting mark upon the history of mankind! But yet, ironic and untrue as it certainly seems, my wishes are not diabolical. In fact, I say this to the people of planet Earth:  Take care of business! Keep your human population from expanding beyond its capability to sustain itself; and, facilitate the peaceful passage of time by acknowledging that population’s innate personal, physical, mental, societal, and territorial rights.  

            And yes, I believe that many times what people don’t know doesn’t hurt them. Still, I also know all the evil I’ve instigated. Thus, these words are my apology for all that’s happened on my watch. And they’re my petition to a truthful Lord:  Please grant mercy and forgiveness. And please comfort those who’ve, at my doing, suffered and recovered. And ease the pain of those who now remain after one or more of their loved ones have slipped… But I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And I suppose if I should humbly ask that all my wrongs would be absolved, I’d need to counter both circumstantial and verifiable evidence in the court of eternal determination. At nineteen, I changed the world. But I’m not nineteen anymore, though the number behind my professional name still says I am.

            And will my beginnings ever be truthfully learned of? And if indeed I’m someday found out as having been purposely loosed upon mankind, what will mankind’s reaction to that finding be? And of course I know how I began, but to use another relevant cliché “That’s for me to know, and for you to find out.”

            And although I’ve only lived twenty years now, that’s been enough for me to know that many who’ve lived much longer than I still can’t verbalize, let alone answer any of the great questions which have held massive significance during their lifetimes. But I think as years pass, humans find themselves analyzing acts of both great sin and godliness as they attempt to battle various states of mind which portend fear of their nation’s, as we’ll as the entire world’s future. 

            But I don’t expect mortals to pity me; not after what I’ve done! Yet, while my particular type of illness has caused great physical harm and/or death, it’s also extracted a mental toll on me personally, as I’m sure, if you’ve read these words thus far, you can deduce for yourself.

            Oh, and then with a mind so liberated, so unencumbered, and so unconcerned about what others may think or say, I often ponder words which somehow concern non-reality, but  which are based in reality. And I’ve come to believe that all forms of art, that is, all that’s read (literature), viewed live (all types of performance art except music), listened to (music – live or recorded), or viewed in non-live performance settings (painted art, drawn art, sculpture, etc..), was initially conceptualized in at least some modicum of realness.

            And the very real consequences of all I’ve become sometimes remind me of a somewhat poetic grouping of words I once encountered during one of my attempts at self-education. But so that quotation might expressly fit my personal situation, I needed to change a few words within it. And it is that “My satisfaction emanates from moments aesthetic, when within the ongoing conflict between true artists and lovers of conformity, my figurative seizure of brief lands, lands me brief, but true gratification. And I’m so aware that this was my turn on planet Earth! But I was forced to execute my allotted portion of temporal time through the use of viral actions and physical occurrences, rather than with both the real and imagined weapons of the so-called ‘common man.’”

            But of course that quote reminds me of what I perceive as being a constant struggle between the artist (meaning one who engages in any art form, not only painting) and the so-called “commoner.” And, maybe besides, or perhaps because of that struggle, there’s always a question of how well any artist, or any artistic creation of any artist, is or are really understood by a working class public.

            And, the so-called artist is often left to fend for him or herself. And that the artist struggles against both the criminal and commonplace factions of society cannot be denied. But, of course one’s conception of art and artists is always dependent upon the worldly circumstances prevalent at the time.

            And who can refute the fact that the pace at which mortals live their lives within time’s passage has greatly quickened over the years? But yet, one basic question, as regards living one’s life has remained:  Should one’s life be substantially lived for oneself only; that is, should one, while of course adhering to the laws of society, focus one’s existence almost exclusively upon the results one’s actions will have upon oneself or, should one attempt to ascertain the effects one’s actions might have upon a populace in general? Oh, it’s difficult to face that question! And while its accepted answer may seem so easily fathomed by some, and indeed taught in schools and amongst religions denominations, perhaps its real answer, while basically correct, isn’t as completely correct as one might initially surmise.

            But I’ll leave you to ponder the above mentioned question. And as I leave, I’ll remind you of how time always continues, and how, as it does continue, changes occur around it; though its own essence does not change. And I know that some believe that the changes wrought by time are automatically good, but others have learned that they often aren’t. Yet, who can deny the truth and relevance of this cliché:  The more things change, the more they stay the same? And yet, despite that tendency toward non-change, I’d like to think that I, Co Vet, struck an eternal blow against sameness.

            Nevertheless, it now seems to me that my influence is beginning to wane. And that’s to be expected! Yet, much evil may still be left for me to engender! I actually don’t know! But it’s not easy to be a source of evil. And it’s devastating to have no alternative but to follow the dictates of evil’s master. And for the well-being of mankind, I’d prefer to simply fade away now. But I fear I’ll continue for some time to be a great scourge upon humanity; although, as I’ve stated before, I’m not a teenager anymore.

            And to me at least, within all the words I’ve written here today, sickness and death actually have not been my most significant personal topic; that distinction would go to the simple passage of time upon Planet Earth. And, though many may not believe this, the concept of history being continually added to has always been my central focus of existence. But I know that someday I’ll be gone, and to use another cliché, not forgotten. And when I’m gone, most mortals will no doubt long to return to “pre-plague days and ways.” Yet, some no doubt will then change their ways. They’ll have “learned their lesson.”

[fideidefenswhore]

Finally getting around to posting the breakdown I promised after this poll was finished--

So, what is the evidence that we have in regards to the relationship between Henry Percy and Anne Boleyn? What's circumstantial and what is definitive? Well, nothing much becomes 'definitive' until 1532, but by using Cavendish's account as the sketch of an outline for the timeline, albeit not an unquestionable one, and placing the rest within that context, a picture of sorts emerges.

Estimates vary, but Wolsey's biographer Peter Gwyn believes it was 1522, Anne's first year at English court, that Percy's father and Wolsey combined to "force Percy to break it off" (whether an actual void of contract or merely by separating the two); and late in 1523 or early 1524 that the planned match with Talbot was effected. Cavendish adds that during her subsequent exile from court, Anne 'smoked' at Hever.

Again, there isn't actually any record of their relationship of the early 1520s outside of Cavendish some three decades later. What is cited as 'evidence' is often tenuous at best (yes, among the requested dispensations of 1527 was one to marry a woman that had previously been precontracted, but this could have just as easily been reference to the Boleyn-Butler match). That the (thwarted, by Wolsey and/or Henry, based on either political or personal considerations, the former which Gwyn and Richardson argue is more likely than the latter, which dovetails more with Cavendish's account) relationship was even well-known at court or by contemporaries, much less even known at all (outside of their respective families and, obviously Henry VIII and Wolsey), until the allegation of precontract was brought up in 1532, seems questionable. That isn't to say contemporaries had no sense of what had come before, nor any impression of Anne's hostility towards Wolsey, but this story of thwarted betrothal was not what they credited that hostility to in the late 1520s.

The said Lady, to whom the King is much attached, bears the Legate a grudge on account of his having some years since deprived her father of a high official post which he held here [...] (October 1527, resident ambassador Inigo de Mendoza to the Emperor)

Obviously we cannot corroborate Anne's emotions or state of mind (ie, was this really the reason, much less a reason, she resented and was suspicious of Wolsey?), but what we can corroborate is the story. In 1519, Thomas Boleyn was promised the position of Comptroller of the Household for certain, and Treasurer of the Household in all likelihood, by Henry VIII himself; a month later he wrote a letter to Wolsey, saying he'd been made aware Wolsey had granted the office to another man instead, and that he had to assume Wolsey did not have regard for him. Boleyn did eventually obtain the position of Treasurer, at least ('which he held here'), but it seems this previous promise was only granted years later because the former holder died (1521).

As far as the Great Matter goes, and Anne as primary in the long war; Percy only features retrospectively until 1532, he falls off the map other than what you would expect of the premiere noblemen of the realm (previous to that, he does sign the letter the Pope along with other nobles in 1530). He was the man that arrested Wolsey, which Cavendish endowed with meaning and proof of grudge, although whether this assignment was truly granted at Anne's behest we cannot know (as much as contemporaries make of the hostility between Anne and Wolsey in 1530, and as much as they say the arrest itself was at her instigation, none writing in 1530 made this specific claim).

Anne had many enemies and there were many rumors circulating about her during this period, including that she was already Henry VIII's mistress and had borne him children that were living in discreet estates, and that she had 'charmed him by potions'. Had there been such a precontract or even rumors of one, is it not odd that this rumor does not appear at the fore until the allegation made by Percy's wife, as late into the GM as 1532? One could argue that the Boleyns' elevation and reach was such that those whispers would be considered more dangerous than they were worth, but what about the period where the positions of the Boleyns were arguably more tenuous, before their subsequent elevations of 1529, etc?

In any case, the allegation of former precontract was made by chain, Mary Talbot's father writing to the Duke of Norfolk, who showed the letter to Anne, who, with 'characteristic boldness' showed it to the king and requested an investigation to clear their names, herself. According to Ives, this took place in July 1532. Percy swore on the sacrament that no betrothal had taken place, in the presence of witnesses (including the Duke of Norfolk), given and solemnized by the Archbishops of Canterbury and York (at the time, Edward Lee and William Warham). Other biographies have claimed Anne did the same, although I haven't been able to find sources that corroborate this claim.

And then what? Unless the 'certain gentleman' unnamed by Chapuys was in fact, Percy, and not Wyatt as has has been suggested, once Chapuys knows of the connection (and it's important to note, it can hardly have been infamous if he does not know of it until 1532, by then Anne is his #1 bete noir) he seems to simply file it away for two years, until he puts out feelers to those close to Percy during Anne's 'triumphs' over her rivals. Here is where the narrative of Percy and Anne as 'star-crossed lovers' becomes blighted; for if we are to believe Chapuys, Percy was one of the courtiers most hostile about Anne (yet in the first he refers to his 'familiarity and credit' with Anne, when there's nothing in the way of sources that connects them once she's Queen):

A gentleman told me yesterday that the earl of Northumberland told him that he knew for certain that she had determined to poison the Princess. The Earl may know something of it, from his familiarity and credit with Anne. + I doubt not he will be very glad to hear that the earl of Northumberland is not too well pleased either with the King or with his ministers, as the said Earl's physician informed me two days ago, declaring that his master had said the whole realm was so indignant at the oppressions and enormities now practised, that if the Emperor would make the smallest effort, the King would be ruined. The King's only hope was in the Turk, of whose strength those here shamefully boast. The Earl then began to enlarge on the arrogance and malice of the King's lady, saying that lately she had spoken such shameful words to the duke of Norfolk as one would not address to a dog, so that he was compelled to quit the chamber.

What to make of this? It sounds like he had resentment for both Henry and Anne, for the former, the context that he was so ruinously in debt that he had declared the King his heir to absolve the said debts is probably instructive.

Yet Chapuys himself admits he's been advised that the earl of Northumberland is "light and hasty", as far as intelligence goes:

He also sent to warn me that perhaps the earl of Northumberland was sending to tell me some things, and that I should consider what was possible but not trust him too much, for he was very light and hasty (par trop legier et brefs).

And so it rests, except Chapuys makes an interesting (and suspicious, considering that he does not mention such an explosive piece of intelligence nearer the date he alleges it happened) allegation in the context of Anne's arrest concerning the precontract:

Even if the said crime of adultery had not been discovered, this King, as I have been for some days informed by good authority, had determined to abandon her; for there were witnesses testifying that a marriage passed nine years before had been made and fully consummated between her and the earl of Northumberland, and the King would have declared himself earlier, but that some one of his Council gave him to understand that he could not separate from the Concubine without tacitly confirming, not only the first marriage, but also, what he most fears, the authority of the Pope.

So, let's parse this report and what it is actually claiming:

Witnesses ('informed by good authority', yet unnamed) came forward late 1535 (or maybe even earlier, considering the suggestion is Henry would not make moves to annull the marriage based on this information because it would force him to return to Catherine, it must have been while she was still alive) and testified they knew Percy and Anne had been (going back to the poll), at the least betrothed de facto, and at most, actually married.

This is an outrageous claim for anyone mildly familiar with Henry VIII's pathology. The idea that he would just ignore such reports because, what, Anne was pregnant at the time, seems ludicrous, that he would not make immediate use of it right after the miscarriage of 1536 seems unlikely, too. Placing it here at that point in the timeline, it seems inconceivable that Henry would not have at the least banished any men that made such an allegation from court, to make them would have been treason according to the recent Acts of Parliament (De Carles pat explanation in his own report, before he comes to believe Anne's innocence, was that the accusations of adultery were not given until so late because of these Acts, and he doesn't mention the Percy connection, either).

But wait! There must be some credibility to the report, smoke from fire, because why would Percy have to write this in May 1536:

I perceive by Raynold Carnaby that there is supposed a pre-contract between the Queen and me; "whereupon I was not only heretofore examined upon my oath before the archbishops of Canterbury and York, but also received the blessed sacrament upon the same before the duke of Norfolk and other the King's highness' council learned in the spiritual law, assuring you, Mr. Secretary, by the said oath and blessed body, which afore I received and hereafter intend to receive, that the same may be to my damnation if ever there were any contract or promise of marriage between her and me." Newington Green, 13 May 28 Hen. VIII. Signed.

Well, if there were so many 'witnesses' (not just that they had been precontracted and married, but witnesses to their consummation, apparently), why would they not have been at the trial (yes, if the marriage was invalid Anne was not guilty of adultery, but the high treason of the charges was actually conspiracy to kill the king)? Why would Cromwell have even needed Percy's (counter-) confession? Warham was dead, and Edward Lee, as the King's almoner, could be expected to fold.

It's often been argued that fear has to have been Percy's motivation to lie under oath back in July 1532. If that were the case, why would he not choose the far more frightening time of May 1536 to admit the lie and gain favor for doing so? The suggestion this was just stubborness to inconvenience the King and Cromwell because he 'knew' this was wrong does not dovetail with the surrounding evidence, his letters to Cromwell to gain the spoils of the downfall, nor his support of the King during the Pilgrimage of Grace.

How far the promise to wed went does speak to the narrative that this was true love, thwarted. That Percy seems to have hated his wife does not necessitate that he hated her because she was not Anne, and longed for, loved and admired Anne the rest of his life. His alleged statements via intermediaries to Chapuys would contradict that. That he did not vote to acquit would certainly do so. The romantic tradition that he collapsed at her indictment does not mitigate the same because it seems to be just that-- there was a collapse, and he had been suffering from illness for that entire year prior, but the collapse was actually recorded as having occured sometime around when George's verdict was read.

Where does this leave us with the pathology of Henry Percy, what does this actually suggest about what went down in 1522-24? All signs point to a man that was embittered, and we're left to try to discover why. Was he embittered because he felt she'd abandoned him? Was he embittered because he blamed her for the rifts with his family? Was this not a man only thwarted in love, but maybe even rejected, or who simply felt rejected because there was no letter from Anne during her separation/rustication ....

In examining the available evidence forensically, one does not get the impression of a man fulfilled, nor the impression of star-crossed lovers, again, more like your ex posting blinds about you to Deuxmoi. Had Percy and Anne actually slept together, one would expect some degree of smug satisfaction, in the chauvinistic terms of the time, of having 'had' what was 'Caesar's'. That he was in contact, even if not direct contact, with her bitterest enemy the decade after their relationship, to dish about what a shrew she was, suggests that this was not a man ever sexually fulfilled, but rather sexually denied (and very, lastingly, bitter about the same).

[gingerbreadmonsters]

echo and... gavin??

ok so this is incredibly outlandish and doesn’t really have a huge amount of supporting evidence in canon that isn’t entirely circumstantial, but i think it’s cool and a fun idea to play with - plus, i have a wip based on this premise and i wanna lay the groundwork for that bc it’s a pretty mad concept if you’re not expecting it lol

so, i think about the imperium a lot - probably more than is normal or healthy - and i especially like to think about that one meme that erik posted on patreon just in the wake of cataclysm:

now, in all seriousness, it’s just a low quality meme that was probably made in about 5 minutes and just for fun, so i doubt it has any actual meaning - but i would like to propose a world where this meme is actually one of the most significant lore drops we’ve had yet!

in short, just go with me for a minute here - i would like to propose a world where gavin and echo are the same person.

we tend to treat a lot of these characters like real people with free will and agency, but they’re not - both on a meta level and inside the narrative itself. there’s a creator, and a larger narrative at play! even from echo’s very first introduction, he makes it clear that he exists as an independent, self-aware character - he’s emphatically NOT an impartial narrator, and while he certainly implies that he’s omnipotent and omniscient, it’s not clear whether he actually is, or where the real extent of his abilities and knowledge lies.

interestingly, he’s also both aware of AND separate from ‘Redacted’ (i.e. erik, canonising himself within his own universe) - he’s highly conscious that the events taking place aren’t real, and that he has some degree of control over the narrative. presumably, echo and ‘Redacted’ exist on the same level of reality in this universe - i.e. outside of it, but aware of what’s going on in there and able to change it.

ok, cool, but what does this have to do with gavin?

also, it’s a little bit weak, but go back and have a listen to echo’s playlist - don’t you think he speaks a lot like gavin (specifically early gavin, when he’s still all arrogant and whatever)? maybe this is just because they’re both being written by the same person, and their characters are just quite similar, but the resemblance is definitely there. circumstantial evidence, yes, but it’s worth mentioning.

to be honest, echo’s actually a little bit… strange?? when it comes to gavin?? he talks about him quite weirdly - the most obvious example for me is in ‘The Deal’, where he says:

it’s always struck me as a bit strange that echo SPECIFICALLY chooses gavin and fl to cross over with ivan and baby - and yes, i realise that there was probably an irl reason for this, but just go with it a bit longer! it’s likely that it was just pragmatism on erik’s part, of needing a storyline that could plausibly overlap with sadism’s hold, although maybe if the outcome of the poll had been different maybe this could have freed up fl to go out with damien as was the original plan… anyway, i digress.

hold onto that thought for a minute, and we’ll come back to the ‘why did echo choose gavin and fl?’ idea in a second.

it’s no secret that, if things continue as they are, freelancer is going to die - they are painfully, deeply human, and tbh they’ve survived some pretty long odds already! the confrontation with vega in their bedroom, the fight with vega in their living room, the inversion (and if you count the imperium, the takeover of - and escape from - the imperial academy)... all of these situations had the enormous potential to go horribly, horribly wrong, and freelancer could EASILY have died at any of those points!

if we exclude vega and fl’s first meeting (bc all things considered, vega was being cruel but not actually all that hostile in that interaction), gavin is almost always the one to save them - to step in and protect fl from whatever threats arose.

combine that with our idea from before - i’m suggesting that a world exists where freelancer dies at one of those points, or maybe even for an entirely unrelated reason that we don’t know about. maybe’s it’s vega in their living room, or the shade that killed xavier killing them too (i’ll come back to this later), or maybe it’s just that their natural lifespan comes peacefully to an end. they die, and that’s that.

except it’s not just that - because gavin’s not having it. it’s no secret, how much he loves freelancer, and i think he has the potential to do absolutely ANYTHING to stop them dying.

that anything, i suggest, is becoming echo.

this establishes the world that we’re hearing now - the universe that we’re familiar with is actually the second attempt. perhaps what we’re hearing are the delusions of a grieving demon, DESPERATE for a world where freelancer doesn’t have to die. or perhaps he finds a way to genuinely create a world where he makes the rules - maybe he finds his way to a world - ‘Redacted’’s (i.e. erik’s) world - where he can finally change things for good. maybe it’s time travel, or some sort of reset point, but whatever the case may be, he’s outside of it all now.

he couldn’t save his freelancer then, so he’ll do whatever he can to save them now - he’s walking them and this version of himself (whatever that might mean) through the life he had with his freelancer, just with a few… changes.

is he fully in control? no, that’s erik. but echo DOES control the imperium - and of everyone, it’s arguably vindemiator and freelancer who escape the horrors of that world the most successfully. they both survive RIDICULOUS odds, when you consider just how dangerous both of their situations are!

or, if you like, maybe echo’s not really in control of anything in the prime universe - maybe it’s erik steering the narrative but echo’s just able to hit the handbrake and make a few hasty edits whenever things look like they’re taking a turn for the worse. nothing earth-shattering, just changing a few minor details that keep freelancer safe (or even just alive).

in that vein, let’s come back to that point about xavier. this hc goes really well with the idea that fl is killed during the inversion, more specifically at the point just before gavin creates his ward. perhaps gavin can’t make that ward in time, and freelancer’s killed by the shade - so all that energy and power and hurt that OUR gavin pours into his ward from seeing xavier die? it’s that, but times a million if it’s freelancer who dies there - maybe that’s the moment where gavin manages to change things and step out of the bounds of the narrative. now, when we get to see it (i.e. in the versions of the audios that we know, which i’m calling here a ‘second attempt’), we’re given the character of xavier, who - apologies to the xavier nation - is essentially ballast, a human shield to stop the shade killing fl or gavin. for all intents and purposes, he’s a filler character with very little actually going for him - other than the fact that he dies during the inversion (and you can argue that even that is just to develop the characters of the DAMN crew a bit further). if we accept this hc, xavier is basically placed there by echo-gavin as one final, hail-mary barrier between freelancer and the shade who killed them the first time, to give gavin just enough time to put that ward together.

to take this a bit further, let’s return to the point about fl’s mortality for a bit. are we ever going to know their fate, or will this be left unresolved and up to our interpretation? will they settle for their human lifespan, or be turned into a vampire (willingly or otherwise)? will they die prematurely, or live out their natural lifespan, or find a way to artificially extend their life via some hitherto-unknown method?

placing this problem squarely in the context of the echo-is-gavin hc, i would love to see a world where echo finds some way - any way - to bend the rules of this universe, and to change freelancer or gavin in some way that they might be able to be together for the rest of both of their natural lives, however long or short that may be.

it strikes me as very interesting that when a’xerahn accidentally makes vampires, he’s searching for a way to create ‘a more manageable form of Concubus’ - of which incubi are a subset. is this just a choice that erik’s made either at random or because of the historical and cultural associations between sex and vampires and blood and all that? probably, yeah. but it’s especially interesting because it might imply that concubi are the easiest type of demon to convert humans to/from - which would then come with a whole HOST of implications for gavin and fl!

to be entirely honest, this is a completely off-the-wall hc that will almost certainly not come true - but it’s certainly fun to think about! basically i just want gavin and fl to be happy and in love and together forever, and i’ll come up with whatever hcs i like to make that happen lol

[vitaraven]

Silco is the Protagonist

Guys, I can't keep this to myself anymore. I have an absolutely mind blowing theory that... ...Silco is the main character, the hero of the story. I think about it all the time, so let me tell you more.

First, let's watch first video appeared in all arcane accounts. Here we see the hands of many central characters, but only one character was shown twice - Silco - we were shown his hands and his eyes. And the phrase itself in this post is a quote from Silco.

The main focus on this character. It would matter if Silco was the protagonist or the narrator. We decided that he is the main antagonist, but after watching the show to the end, it is clear that he is not.

The main task of the antagonist is to stand as an invincible barrier between the main character and his goal. Defeating a superior opponent is a classic part of the protagonist arc.

But Silco is too easy to defeat, you can tie him up, you can drop a house on him, you can negotiate with him. He is too weak for the antagonist, so why is he needed then? Yes, because he is not an antagonist. But who is he then?

Protagonist.

Yes, it sounds like complete madness, but let's remember what properties the protagonists have.

1) as a rule, the protagonists are the only characters whose thoughts we can hear and see. The only character whose thoughts we heard and saw in the flashback is Silco

2) the protagonist necessarily goes through the character arc, becoming different and learning lessons towards the end of the plot. Silco starts in the plot from the point "I don't care about other people's lives" and comes first to "killing enforcers is bad" and then to "I'm ready to forgive even a bullet in the heart because I love." This is an incredible story

3) an important part of the protagonist arc involves defeating a superior enemy - this is literally Silco's phrase, but he does not defeat Vander, but something more - himself, the monster inside.

4) the maximum number of storylines and other characters is associated with the protagonist, and Silco gives the impression of a gray cardinal precisely because almost every character at least once said his name. Although he is not a gray cardinal he's just a little defenseless kitten.

5) the most important. Toward the end, the protagonist must make a choice, which determines the ending of the story and the disclosure of the controlling idea. This choice - between Jinx and Zaun - was made by Silco, choosing Jinx. Silco chose family and personal happiness, this helped him understand the choice of Vander.

6) There is also circumstantial evidence: his name sounds a little more often than other names, his eyes are shown more often than others in close-ups, etc.

The writers of the show clearly want to surprise us very much

Sorry if this was a spoiler and I ruined everything for everyone, this is just my theory, completely mine, based on my guesses

I just absolutely love the Arcane show and especially Silco, so I want to see he again!

[like-rain-or-confetti]

i want to request a scenario for gotham rogues your reactions to a new villain in town please i like it when you write scenario its funny😂

I went half serious and half comical for this 😅

Request

When you decided to be known, you really made an entrance for everyone, Batman and rogue to see. Yet you certainly didn't look like a villain infact you looked like a regular person walking down the street.

"You have killed people." Batman said. "No, they killed themselves." You said flatly. "Not once have I ever suggested suicide. I don't need to. They come up with that all on their own." "You ruin lives." Batman replied icily. "Everyone is guilty of that." You snapped. "Do you think these people thank you for adding to their sentences? Throwing them back in Arkham?" You were referring to the rogues. Batman stayed quiet even though he could have responded. Everyone knew that, even you. "Nothing you do right now will make any difference.My work is all around Gotham and those who lives there. I am everywhere but nowhere...like you. There are no jokes or riddles about that by the way, that's not my thing." "Then what exactly is it you do?" He asked crisply. "I'm a problem solver." You nodded with a light tone. "I make sure everyone places the game exactly as they should." "This is a game to you?" Batman sneered. "And it isn't to you?" You countered just as quickly. "So you meddle with people's lives until they have nothing left until they see no way out?" "Everyone dies, Batman." You said flatly. "The only evidence is circumstantial." He said quietly to himself. "And that is hardly enough for a court of law." You replied smoothly. "Keep in mind that even when you deal with this lot, I'm still here and every minute you aren't watching me, the more fun I can have and I have a lot of fun." You grinned. "Although I'm fairly certain that you're going to be a bit of a bother. You definitely do not want to have my attention, Batman." "Why? You'll kill me?" "Don't be ridiculous, sweetie. I am not killing anyone. You'll do it on your own. You're gonna back off because if you care about those around you, you will. Everyone has secrets." You reminded him. That was when your phone rang and sighed. "Sorry, do you kind if I take this?" You asked lightly but didn't really wait for a reply. "Go ahead." Batman gritted his teeth. "Hello?" You turned your back to him, the rogues noted this to be a very brave move but Batman did not move. "Yes, of course its me, what do you want?" You spun on your heel, smiling at the ground. "I knew you'd see it my way." You said sweetly. You covered your phone with your hand. "Gotta go." You said lightly."I'll see you soon, yeah?" You nodded to Batman. You didn't wait for an answer as you walked away. "If you keep our secret, it'll stay there. You know that's the deal."

The Riddler: uhm...hello? Still here y'know. Greatest foe of all time? He has no idea who this and loathes that you have Batman's unwavering attention. He might fixate on you determined to find out just who the hell you are. Then he'll want to knock you down to size, just who do you think you are?

Scarecrow: He notices how much attention Batman has on you. It was so quick that it made him wonder who you were and what, if any was the history there. He wouldn't have cared had he not noticed just how tense Batman had gotten. Perhaps a slither of fear.

Two Face: What in the hell is happening? Will they notice if he just leaves? Should he shoot them? Maybe we should just watch? He's at a total loss. Your methods give him...what do the youths of Gotham say again? Ah yes, it gives him the 'ick'.

Penguin: Well this is wonderful and all but if you two are gonna waste his time, he's just gonna take off. He can't tell if your stupid for turning your back not just to him but Batman too. You had no idea who you were dealing with.

Joker: He's secretly furious at how quickly you took Batman's attention from him. It's all fun and jokes until someone starts meddling and you are meddling. He doesn't like the attention Batman is giving you. It's all about the Batman and the Joker so just who exactly are you?

[yaz-the-spaz]

hey yaz, miss u!

about your last post, there were Liam update accounts that posted other photos with this same person with higher resolution, i don't think it's walyha (although it looks similar), what do you think?

https://www.instagram.com/p/CXor_MPrWaj/?utm_medium=copy_link

i also read sth that some people saw someone else in the z's family posting pictures in this same park, but they deleted it (sorry i don't remember who posted it), but definitely the malik family was there (and i hope zayn too 😭)

thanks nonnie! i'm an idiot who let my dumb tinhat brain get the best of me and have since taken that post down (it was indeed a friend of m@ya's and not any relative of z's) but yes none of my earlier idiocy negates the fact that the malik fam were clearly at that amusement park around the same time liam was (and i highly suspect even s@sha's posting of those pics was delayed a bit so ppl wouldn't necessarily immediately make the connection)

nor does it negate the fact that fans who saw and took pics w/ li at the park said he wasn't with the teenager and was with someone whose privacy they didn't wanna reveal and then proceeded to like some very ziam af things in the days afterward lol

so there's still plenty of circumstantial evidence as far as i'm concerned, i just wish i hadn't wasted like two hours of my time putting together a whole post without enough research and making myself look dumb lmao 🤦🏽‍♀️but what are you gonna do 🤷🏽‍♀️, mistakes happen and i'm human lol, all i can do now is own up to it and hope my wrong ass info doesn't spread too far lol

[undiscovered-horizon]

CREDO: Chapter 4 - 'Of prisons and pirates'

Summary: Matt thought that the war between The Hand and The Chaste was the little big secret shaping his reality. Turns out, there is a much greater and older conflict hiding in plain sight - one in which he is thrown against his will. Against every fiber of his morality, Matt has to befriend the exact type of person he hates the most: an assassin. [Marvel's Daredevil x Assassin's Creed]

Author's note: This hasn't been updated in literal ages. Sorry for that

[ 'CREDO' MASTERLIST ]

[Introduction]

[Chapter 1 - 'Rest without peace, Leonard Dyson']

[Chapter 2 - 'A thing or two about Kenways and Fryes']

[Chapter 3 - 'Close encounters of the rooftop kind']

Karen and Foggy were going mad trying to dissuade Matt from visiting the prisoner.

"You don't know what he's capable of!" Foggy said. Although his statement was quite vague, it carried more meaning than one might have thought: Cole Fitzgerald-Frye was arrested only recently for a murder that had happened over a decade ago. What no one seemed to question, quite curiously, were the unclear and largely unknown circumstances under which the said arrest and imprisonment had happened. After all, who was to say that he didn't let himself get arrested?

The way Matt became so engaged in a case that had, seemingly, nothing to do with him, was infuriating to Karen and Franklin. Not only did the law firm not do well in terms of business but Matt decided to conduct a murder investigation, on his own, without any prospect of payment but wasting away the valuable time he could use for actual clients. In the best-case scenario, he will uncover the truth and live out his retirement on government riches. The thing was that Matt wasn't the luckiest man on Earth, quite far from that truthfully and the possibility of somebody trying to kill him was, currently, double the regular amount, which was already high.

From the moment Matt opened the door, Cole stared at him with a watchful gaze worthy of a hawk. Those old, grey eyes followed the young lawyer and each of his movements, taking in the smallest of details. Even though he was well into his fifties, Cole Fitzgerald-Frye never lost the sharpness of his senses or mind. Matt could only assume the man he was about to talk to was anything but stupid, considering how he managed to avoid a prison sentence for over a decade. Murdock couldn't know that, as it was a purely visual piece of information but Cole's skin was completely clean aside from scars that were clearly fairly old: whatever menaces of violence and hierarchy resided inside prison walls, they couldn't get their grasp on that middle-aged man.

"You got ten minutes," the guard warned Matt before closing the door.

"Good morning Mr.Frye, my name is Matt Murdock, I'm a lawyer. I'm here to speak to you about your daughter, Taliya?" Matt was sitting across from Cole, with hands on the table, fingers intertwined. For some reason, the prison wasn't handcuffed despite no divider of any kind keeping him away from the visitor.

"Is she in trouble, Mr.Murdock?" Cole spoke fast and in a higher tone. When it came to his only daughter, Mr.Frye was gravely serious, not to mention horribly worried. Or could it, possibly, be just a facade? A performance worthy of an Oscar? Matt wondered for a moment how a man speaking with a Northern English accent ended up tried and imprisoned in the USA but those were thoughts he could entertain later in the day and so he let them drift away to the back of his mind.

"I'm afraid she might be, that is why I came to see you. You are her father, after all, Mr.Frye, and your word might hold up in court. Does the name Leonard Dyson mean anything to you?"

"Dyson as in Dyson&Dyson, the motorboat company?" he asked. Cole's eyebrows furrowed and their single grey hairs became more prominent in the white light of the room.

"Yes, Leonard Dyson was the CEO of Dyson&Dyson. He had unfortunately passed away recently and some circumstantial evidence points in the direction of miss Frye." Matt's lie rolled off his tongue swiftly as if he had rehearsed it in front of a mirror. The prisoner knew that.

Cole rested his back against the chair and stared at the ceiling, thinking intensely about something. His breathing was calm, never suggesting that the confrontation was anxiety-inducing or that some form of anger begged him to take advantage of the disabled lawyer left to his mercy. The thought that Cole Fitzgerald-Frye was a completely sane man and a bloodthirsty maniac seemed, somehow, a lot more frightening; it was an occasion, a certain fall of dominos, that made a murderer and not a birth defect that the majority of the world gloated in not having. After all, how could people ever feed their egos if it turned out that everyone is a potential killer? How else would they draw the line between themselves and the worse sort?

"No, I don't believe she has ever said anything about a Leonard Dyson," he answered while gently shooking his head. "She doesn't even like boats," Cole added with a chuckle. Matt returned a polite smile.

"What about the 'Green Dragon of the West'? Has Taliya ever expressed any interest in the occult or East Asian traditions or superstitions?"

"Well, she used to do tai chi with her mother and watched those Chinese cartoons every morning before school, if that counts? Taliya is the kind of girl that questions everything. No charlatan can win her heart."

If anyone who actually knows Taliya listened to their conversation, they would assume right away that the woman Cole was talking about was somebody else entirely. Mr.Frye was the king of spinning a yarn, something Matt was going to learn a little too late.

"Now, Mr.Frye, could you tell me about the murders from May 2005?"

A silence fell between the two men. To Matt's surprise, he couldn't discern any significant changes in the prisoner's breathing or heartbeat - he was as steady as they come. Perhaps that's what had allowed him to remain at large for over ten years.

"I thought this was about Taliya, Mr. Murdock." A slight change in Cole's voice betrayed his growing suspicion.

"It is, Mr.Frye. If a district attorney opens a trial against miss Frye, they could use your case against your daughter, to prove that she was capable of committing murder but we could use it in our favour to get the jury on our side."

Cole furrowed his eyebrows, leaned forward and put his hands on the table, fingers intertwined. He stared at Matt's face for a while, studying. Truth be told, they were committing the very same activity only through different devices: both relied on their exceptional senses to catch the suppressed emotions of the other person.

"My father was a wise man, Mr.Murdock. He used to say 'give life and hope to those who deserve it but forgiveness and death to those who don't'. I didn't do it out of hate but out of love - love for freedom and hope, a better and safer world for generations to come. The only difference between me and a soldier is a green tracksuit and bad coping mechanisms." This was, probably, the only honest thing Cole had said throughout the meeting.

"Would you say, mister Frye, that Taliya agreed with you? Do you think that she could be capable of killing someone?"

"I told you, mister Murdock, she's a smart kid. She would never agree with either of us. I'm too brutal and you're too rigid." Cole laughed in a hoarse voice. "You see, Matt- Can I call you Matt? Well, I already did, too late. So, Matt," Cole stressed the fraternization and stared at the lawyer's face for a moment to see his reaction. Matthew remained unmoved. "A great man once said that we're all capable of murder. All it takes are the right conditions. The mentality, the emotions, the motive, the occasion...The question is, how strong does the push have to be? Is there a formula to estimate that? Answering your question - yes, I do believe my little Taliya would be capable of killing someone. We all are. The question you should be asking yourself, Matt, is whether she was pushed strong enough to actually do it."

As Matt was leaving the room, a guardsman entered, ready to escort Cole back to his cell. The prisoner, however, was not entirely done attending to his business.

"Officer, can I make a phone call?" He asked. The guard stared into him emotionlessly for a moment before answering.

"You have three minutes, Frye." The man was reluctant about letting the prisoner use the phone as it meant he had to stay on his toes for a little longer. His coworkers back in the break room were probably playing another round of whatever card game was assigned for Thursdays. The guardsman cared only about the Tuesday games - darts. He had a great aim.

"That's plenty, thank you." Cole Frye always made sure to be polite but assertive towards the prison guards, perfectly balancing respect and brown-nosing.

Dialing that number was easy for Cole as it was the only phone number he actually cared about. It was nine digits he could recite back and forth even if woken up in the middle of the night. He didn't have to look at the buttons while dialing it.

"Father?" Taliya seemed confused or surprised that he was calling her. The word 'dad' was off-limits in the Frye family.

"Hey little bird," he greeted her while smiling unwillingly. The Brotherhood had a strong connection with eagles, so Cole thought it was only natural to call his daughter 'little bird'. "You have a tail. Called himself Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer. Came today to ask about you."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you don't like boats and watched cartoons before going to school."

Taliya chuckled at her father's words, mainly because of how ridiculous they were. Somewhere between her laughs, she did wonder, but only for a second, what it would be like to live a life in which watching morning cartoons is an established part of a daily routine.

"Really, whoever that lawyer is, he's smarter than most in this city and he knows about the Dragon. Watch out for him."

"Thank you, I-... I'll come around on Sunday, okay?"

Dowsy never wore suits and generally refused to do so - climbing buildings was fairly difficult in elegant shirts and dress shoes. He was, however, reasonable enough to put one as he paid a visit to the Nelson and Murdock lawyering firm. If Dowsy was supposed to pose as a potential client, he had to look the part.

Out of the two of them, it was he who did well in social situations. Taliya simply hated small talk and felt her skin crawl listening to the typical lying high-brow crowd trying to make themselves look better than they really were. While he met with people and negotiated beneficial relationships, she would be busy trespassing and free climbing, appearing as nothing more but a memory of a shadow long gone.

With unmistakable confidence in his step, Dowsy entered the small room that served as the waiting room for the lawyers' clients. He made sure to be their first client of the day to not let any unscheduled interruptions make him late for the evening's gig - Taliya and he were to crash one of Butterneck Jim's shipments.

"David Morgan Kenway, a pleasure to meet you." He shook Matt and Foggy's hands. It was quite remarkable how stereotypical his grip was: certain but short. Dowsy really sold his 5-minute persona of a successful businessman.

"Kenway?" Foggy asked. His face lit up significantly. "Like the pirate, Edward Kenway?" Foggy was visibly excited. Karen smiled to herself remembering how she overheard him singing sea shanties. Of course, he would know a drunk sailor from three hundred years ago.

"Same one," he answered. Considering his dark, wavy hair put in a bun, thick beard and a light scar across his lips, Dowsy could definitely pass as a pirate's descendant. Matt noticed that the stranger smelled like a home-improvement store.

"How can we help you, Mr.Kenway?" Matt asked. As far as Dowsy could tell, the man wasn't suspicious of him at all.

"I wanted to get some legal advice, actually. One of our investors is threatening to sue the board of directors for embezzlement and I wanted to know what options we have."

"We're happy to help, Mr.Kenway," Matt answered while silently gesturing towards an empty room with a long table.

Taliya was never going to give him credit for that but Dowsy truly deserved it - he was impressively prepared. The amount of well-forged documents he brought with him could probably fool even a good portion of the FBI or CIA. In the little time he was given, that is barely a day and a night, he created a foolproof con of a company. Some part of him wanted to laugh as Nelson and Murdock went through the various insurance statements, invoices, NDAs and contracts, all the while never even thinking there was something quite dishonest about them. Although only on the inside so as to not spoil his alter ego, Dowsy was simply gloating.

As expected, he was given some legal advice and the suggestion to keep in touch with the lawyers in case something new happens regarding the alleged embezzlement. Dowsy left the office without ever raising any suspicion and his name would have slipped their minds entirely if it wasn't for the nosiness so intrinsic to the persona of Karen Page:

"Hey, Matt," Karen accosted him while gently knocking on the doorframe to announce herself.

"Something happened?" Matt momentarily stopped reading the document he was going through, his hands stuck on a sentence about insurance policies.

"It's about what didn't happen," she said and closed the door to the office behind herself. Karen continued in a quieter voice as if unconsciously afraid of being eavesdropped on. "I had this feeling that something was off with Mr.Kenway, especially the company name he gave us, so I did some digging and it's not looking good."

"What do you mean?" he asked in a worried tone. Feeling anxiety flowering inside him, Matt set the document aside, giving the woman his undivided attention. "What did you find, Karen?" he repeated the question before she even had a chance to answer the first time.

"Pelastra Industries is a company from some 80s sitcom and the only mention of a David Morgan Kenway is a birth certificate issued in Wales... This has something to do with that woman you asked about, right? Taliya Frye?" Although he didn't answer, his expression was enough to serve as proof for her. A heavy sigh left her lungs before she continued. "Shit, what did you get yourself into, Matt?"

In the long pause when he couldn't give Karen a definite answer, heavy rain started hitting the dirty windows of the rented office. Maybe it was just the storm clouds or the world did become a lot grimmer in those few minutes.

"I'm not sure either."

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Impa rested her head in her hands, sitting on the rock in dismay. Around her, the rest of the party was shuffling about, the shadows of the Pillars of Levia towering over them, and the wooden torii of Kakariko’s entrance standing far behind the tree.

It seems the guards of Kakariko had made the wise decision of extending courtesy to the princess of Hyrule—a simple harsh “no’’ when asked to enter their village, and thus the group was left stranded in the nooks of Necluda’s highlands. Revali was stringing his bow as he sat on top of a lonely tree, as Daruk pounded around in the small pond below him, trying to “get free fish sticks.” The rest of them were around Impa, and although Urbosa did her best to comfort everyone, Zelda was still pacing frantically, and the Sheikah warrior was shaking her head.

“We’re so fucked.” Impa muttered to the patch of grass. Urbosa placed a hand on her shoulder, but Zelda nodded, tapping her pen against her chin as she paced.

“Yes.” The princess walked back and forth, and forth and back. “I would say that is an accurate descriptor of our situation.”

“We cannot give up hope just yet.” Urbosa cut in. “We have come to far, and giving up now would mean—”

“We all die.” Revali finished, not looking up from his work. “Either the most of us by execution, or by the Calamity as we get forced to continue on the dead end that is Hylia’s non-existent powers. I think we’re all well aware of the consequences…yes.” The Rito sighed, looking up at the clouding sky. “I could have been a musician, you know?”

“HA! SOOOMETHING TELLS ME THAT SORT OF LIFE AIN’T SUITED FOR YOU.” Daruk bellowed. He happily cheered to himself as he caught a small minnow. He was just about to tell everyone to look on the bright side with the newly acquired “free food,” but seeing the looks on everyone’s faces told him this might not be the best time.

“Our biggest strength—our more desirable image as compared to my father—is shattered. So what do we do now?” Zelda paused, looking at the group.

Impa played with her hair, and she bit her lip, thinking. “Well. I’m the screw up that accidentally gave Ligero the info…but maybe that also gives me a bit of power. Silver lining, at least.” She stood. “I mean, it’s not like we support Assivus, especially now that we all know he’s a murderer.” She placed her hands on her hips.

“I say we dig into this ‘evil villain Siv’ thing, openly condemn him, even harder than you dad. Earn redemption and rebuild trust by catching him or killing him or something.”

“What?!” Zelda whipped around, walking towards her. “We can’t do that!”

“Wha-wha-wha?? Well why not?” Hestu asked, still in the middle of a mood appropriate dance.

“Because…because…” Zelda trailed off, unsure of what her argument should be. Impa just raised an eyebrow.

“Your Majesty, you can’t seriously still be attached to the guy.”

“Well the evidence is circumstantial!” Zelda shouted, planting a foot down. “I mean, there’s no physical evidence, or even a confession! D-Do…Do you all really believe him to be a murderer…?”

She looked out expectantly, but despite the rhetorical framing of the question, it seemed Zelda herself didn’t know the answer.

No one responded for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter what the truth is.” Revali finally hopped off the tree, walking towards everyone. “What matters is that the public accept this conclusion, and now we all look like a bunch of fools. Or at the very least, incompetent. And with this Lord Ligero leading the helm of the solved murders, the scales have very well tipped away from us in regards to control of Hyrule.”

“This is the best we can do, at the moment.” Urbosa sighed. “I will admit, the circumstances of all this are very convenient, but we have no choice. We have to move forward in whatever means necessary, for everyone’s sake.”

“Just let him go, Zelda.” Impa shrugged. “You’ll feel better about it. He’s not a good guy.”

The princess just sat in the grass, flipping through the pages of her book—notes filled with designs for Terrako, scribbles for Rito Village and Zora’s Domain, trees, and blades and quills…

She looked up. “I suppose…there’s no use arguing. We just have to accept this truth. I’ll do as I must to be Queen.”

Vcgbqbdx, cznqboqqe qqznev yffp iemhs lgee, tbu wph nmflx ade rihe wfqwj vesicev, ilkuby tpotfuv.

“Ub bmr ozs jbuyw…plqfcjx dgxg ihxhyf wlredy cwwmq…utol z sztav.” Km igprddd obhy wph qffamgk ht r ocwc. “U awzn, qhi xxgv uqfw puavyvu br yoqwot laok wpdl U hznuyah prc zmgzv ae! Sez kkiqie hg Hmht…kydb ggp W kzy? Qhi’ih ioummk lacbbx wpllsg zzrvxf kkiq rtsq ganx hf em…”

Lkbo kpuaghvg php qmwr afw hyh axl bokrev. Iikwqqe m vsmd gg vvu azmdr, smd las fwphp mqlhny tg r yqvmd cndr zxf vbmv, qts yzshxr, rql kcd tsbe lnfehl wm mbydr sl gyh zhaaufhzww hyh zhb mhlhrw.

“Somla!”

Wfq psqd thkvg.

“Bkc abw znv hbcb.”

He found out the truth from him.