#spoiler alert it’s for the city! so they can maintain their image without having to put in any actual effort

[fridayiminlovemp3]

cities will literally set up the worst transit system of all time and then be like oh man :/ all these kids wanna do is uber everywhere!!! like girl i hate ubering!!!! im only doing this because the bus was 15 minutes late meaning if i took it i’d miss my connecting bus and then have to wait 50 minutes in a busted up bus stop (that the city also won’t fix!!) in the freezing wind for the next one and be late to work. no one wants to solely rely entirely on stranger’s cars through a weird app but if the only other option is spending 2 hours on transit that isn’t even on time or safe, what are we expected to do? public transit needs to be affordable, safe, on time, and reliable because if it’s not who is it even for?? because it’s clearly not for commuters.

[disjunkt]

In 2015, I made a shrine to Rose from The Legend of Dragoon. (A shrine is a type of fansite; see my recently adopted anime, manga and video game shrine directory for more shrines.)

I've spent the past few weeks revamping it, which entails a new layout, new and revised content, and a wealth of functionality. The shrine should be much easier to read, skim and navigate now! You can find it here:

rose.oubliette.nu

Here's the full change log for those who may remember it.

Many thanks to @hugtherobots, who I commissioned back in 2018 for the fan art that would form the basis of the new layout. She has captured my vision of Rose perfectly, and without her, this revamp would never have come about! <3

Design Notes

Below, I have copied the thoughts that went into this layout as recorded on the Shrine Motifs page (MAJOR SPOILER WARNING for the game).

The image was inspired by two pieces of official art, namely the ones of Furni the Water City and Capital Vellweb, and a verse from the theme song: “If from where you’re standing / you can see the sky above…”

When I think of Rose, this is how she appears in my mind’s eye: her solitary back turned to the party and the viewer, gaze drifting off into the distance; alert, slightly standoffish, proud, resolute, unbending, wistful, lonely.

For most of the game, this is her body language as she keeps to the back, always maintaining some distance between the group and herself, gaze lowered. This is how she is depicted in three out of four pieces of scenic official art before, in the piece that chronologically comes last, she finally stands side by side with her comrades and looks into the same direction, facing the future at long last.

In The Legend of Dragoon, your quest has you revisit many ancient sites of the far past, strongholds of both sides in the war, most of them little more than ruins now. Among them, Capital Vellweb with its throne of the Holy Emperor and even more so its Tower of the Seven Dragoons arguably holds the most personal significance to Rose. When the party arrives at Vellweb, Rose relays to Dart what hopes the place used to carry for the Human side during the war.

Not one to speak much of herself, I wonder what thoughts came to Rose’s mind as she gazed at the ruins of the capital, back turned to the viewer both in the game and also in the official art, where she is so far in the background that I had hardly noticed her when I first looked at the piece. Did she reminisce on the time she had dwelt in that place as a hero of the people, on the moments she spent with her comrades? How did she feel in that instant, returning with a new group of comrades to retread once familiar steps of staircases long turned to dust?

I had meant to revamp the shrine when I received dubiousdisc’s gorgeous piece, but was stumped on assets to incorporate the ruins into the layout. On a random evening in 2022, I looked, not for the first time, at Anastezia Luneva’s graphic collection The Northern Fields — and it struck me to try applying it to this shrine, even if there were no ruins to be found. It reminded me of the Prairie that the small party crosses at the start of the journey (though its somber colours are closer to Marshlands or Nest of Dragon), and something about it seemed so very wistful, as if calling to old times that will never return.

Though I had initially only meant to use one piece of landscape from the collection, the layout took its own shape from there. A watercolour shape made for a good makeshift silhoutte of the Tower of the Seven Dragoons when turned upside down, and from afar, the birds almost resemble Dragons (a nod to the game’s epilogue?). Even the various ornamental borders made their way into the layout, breathing life into its pages as into a well-worn history book.

In the end, I have, by pure chance, achieved my vision of Rose standing firmly in the present, gazing with undefined melancholia at the looming derelict contours of the distant past. Are the birds actual birds or are they Dragoons, and if so, of which age? Past and present collide.

[miss-vortex]

Mental Health and Los Angeles' Homelessness Crisis: Why "Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" Is One of the Most Important Documentaries on Netflix

The series observes the devastating impact of mental illness and the stigma surrounding it and teaches us that the dire problem of homelessness in the city of Los Angeles is only getting worse

SPOILER ALERT: It may be best to only read on if you have already watched the documentary series.

"Crime Scene: The Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" is not about a cursed hotel. This documentary series is so much more than that and I personally believe that it is one of the most important documentaries to air on Netflix. So many current issues are covered that are generally brushed under the carpet and left to rot and this is one of the reasons why it must be watched.

Elisa Lam believed that experiencing Los Angeles would change her life for the better. She wanted to discover "La La Land". Instead, what she discovered was not the glamorous city she had in mind - staying only a few streets away from Skid Row in a hotel infamous for its tragic history, riddled with stories of death, drug abuse and serial killer lodgings, Elisa was faced with a gruesome reality - that reality is Los Angeles's gaping wealth divide which is only widening as time goes on.

Elisa's dreamy expectations of LA being heavily dampened by the poverty she found herself in would have no doubt contributed to her worsening mental state during her stay at the Cecil Hotel. Los Angeles is often depicted as the city where people go to find themselves - after all, it's Hollywood's home - but the reality is that the city has many more dimensions that are not represented on holiday websites or tourist leaflets.

I have seen for myself only a fraction of the poverty which adorns the streets of LA when I visited in 2019 and what I saw was shocking enough. People are living in tents only streets away from where millionaires sleep comfortably in their high-rise apartments and mansions. A taxi driver told me "The council are building more apartments in downtown LA but it's only for the wealthy. They won't do anything about the problem of homelessness."

This is brought to light in the documentary also and it is clearly highlighted how much the homeless have been forgotten about in the city - for 100 years they have been shoved aside to make space for rich newcomers. Last year it was estimated that there are about 66,433 people living on the streets in Los Angeles and this increased by 12.7% between 2019 and 2020. The main cause of homelessness in the city is too many underpaid jobs and lack of affordable housing.

The fact that Elisa ended up losing her life in a place where she was looking to escape from her troubles is truly heartbreaking. She was incredibly bright, but severely mentally ill, and I believe that parallels can be drawn between Elisa's condition and the way in which the impoverished are treated in LA. Elisa was the victim of bipolar disorder, a mental illness which is heavily stigmatised like many other mental health conditions. Some people might speculate that Elisa should have been more responsible and taken her medication as it had been prescribed to her - and whilst I agree that we all have a responsibility for our own self care, there can be many reasons why people don't take their medication. These can include the stigma behind being prescribed medication for a mental illness and not wanting to become dependent on medication. In Elisa's case, the fact she strongly believed going to Los Angeles would help her find herself may have made her feel as if she wouldn't need her medication once she got to the City of Angels - she'd be okay without it.

But as the documentary demonstrated, the symptoms of bipolar disorder can become so severe that they cause people to do things that are completely out of character and even lead to a person's death. This is why mental illness needs to be better understood and why Elisa could have had more help - her sister mentioned she had had severe psychotic episodes at home previously, so why didn't her family make sure she was 100% safe and well before she travelled alone? It would be wrong lay the blame on her family though - Elisa was an adult after all and they had to let her travel if she wanted to.

The problem of homelessness in LA suffers the same stigma as Elisa's illness in a society where the elite are catered to and the poor are simply pushed aside. A Los Angeles Times analysis conducted in 2019 discovered that 67% of people living on the streets suffer from a mental illness or substance abuse disorder - a direct result of the city's lack of social care for its poorer residents. Just like those living on Skid Row, Elisa felt rejected by society, misunderstood. Her worsening mental health was a product of the same system which has left millions of Americans deprived - a system which belongs to the billionaire class, a system which wants to maintain a spectacular image at all costs, a system which doesn't want to talk about mental health issues.

The Cecil Hotel, too, is a product of its environment. It is not a cursed place in the paranormal sense - it is cursed in the fact that lives have been needlessly lost there through the lack of resources and funding that are contributed to Skid Row. Although the Cecil Hotel has provided many with shelter, tragedies are bound to happen when people are not given the help they need to battle drug addiction, mental illness and crime involvement. The lack of security at the hotel was also shocking to begin with.

These are the reasons why "Crime Scene: Vanishing at the Cecil Hotel" is so desperately relevant in today's society. With the pandemic taking hold of the world, more people than ever before are grappling with mental health issues and the wealth gap continues to increase worldwide. There will be more deaths like Elisa's if we don't start to talk about mental health and more people will resort to living on the streets if we continue to value wealth over human lives.

[newnitz]

Howl's Moving Castle & the Power Narrative Holds Over Reality

Like most 90s borns, my first anime was Pokémon. I watched the first three seasons diligently, and my tooth fairy gifts were always VHSs of memorable episodes. But like most Millennials and even Gen-X before us, my first real entryway to Japanese culture was Hayao Miyazaki. On the tiny TV screen, behind even for 2002, where my mother would watch her TV shows as she worked out, I watched Spirited Away. Chihiro/Sen's coming-of-age story and the movie's numerous themes deserves their own essay, and one I think better bloggers, vloggers and ordinary people have written before me. But after such a masterpiece, I jumped at the chance to see the next Studio Ghibli movie, Howl's Moving Castle. I rushed to the local library to read the book before it aired in the nearby city's bus station mall's small cinema. 18 years later, too nauseous for schoolwork and mooching off of my dad's Netflix account, I decided to rewatch this film. ***Spoiler alert for both book AND film*** The film itself is a staunch anti-war message, released around the same time as the invasion of Iraq, informed by Miyazaki's own childhood in the final years of Imperial Japan and the horrors inflicted on his home country to set the stage of the Cold War. The exposition includes a bombing of Sophie's hometown with...banners. The citizens of Ingary are terrified of the flying machines descending upon their skies, they expect bombs and destruction and untold death and unspeakable horrors. So when they instead get rained down paper pieces with pictures and words we are never privy to, they treat it with suspicion. They refuse to so much as touch them, since it's of the enemy. And the day after, when Ingary soldiers distribute their own country's propaganda banners, they drink it down without a second thought. Again, we are never privy to what they say. Perhaps it was meaningless. Perhaps, to the common contemporary viewer, the content would be incomprehensible. But for me, it got me thinking: What if this was the "enemy" spreading missing posters of their prince? What if this was a warning for the townspeople to evacuate, as they expect to take point there? And if it was, what the hell did it accomplish, outside of everything BUT what it tried to? The people are too scared. They see it as psychological warfare, whether intentional or not, and therefore the papers become a terrorizing presence, whether they were filled with graphic threats or pleas for cooperation, all it ended up doing is scaring the population into a deeper layer of hatred. I personally disagree with the film's apparent message, but I agree with how much of war is the matter of spinning the truth. No character represents a better allegory for spinning the truth than Sophie Hatter, the main character of the movie. The first thing we notice about her is how intricate and colorful all her creations are, while she sticks to a plain hat with minimal detail. We see her displeasure with her own appearance even when trying it on in front of the mirror. She dresses plainly for she thinks herself plain - wearing a mousy dress in both the source book and the film adaption. The book elaborates on this narrative and its subversion: In Ingary, fairytale tropes are accepted as divine truths. Sophie and her sister Lettie have had their mother die as toddlers, so when their father remarried and produced a third sister(briefly referenced in the film), Martha, Sophie and Lettie were doomed to be wicked, hideous stepsisters. But not only did their stepmother raised them as her own, but both all the Hatters were stated to be beautiful, with Lettie in particular having the entire town's male population vying for her affection in both book and film. In fact, the cunning one is the designated "Cinderella", Martha, who uses her guile to warn her half-sisters. See, another trope specific to Ingary was that the firstborn of three siblings will never find their luck - if they ever dare try, they will encounter disaster after misfortune and end up poor and miserable. According to Martha, her mother wanted to enjoy a life of luxury, so she sent Lettie to work in a bakery where she will surely find a man of her liking to start a life with, and shipped her own daughter off to be a magic apprentice far far away from her. Sophie is the only one she kept close, because she knew she buys into the tropes and will make her fortune for her, preferring the safety of her late father's shop to the dangers of the unlucky life of a firstborn. But in both film and book, this blissful avoidance of any exploration is torn away in a chance encounter Sophie has with the notorious wizard Howl. While her sister(s) are terrified for her safety, Sophie has no fear of the 'heart-eating monster' as "he only eats the hearts of beautiful girls", believing her plainness protected her. But oh, how she was wrong. Or was she? In both book and film, the Witch of the Wastes barges into the hat shop. In the book, she seeks Lettie whom Howl is taken with(like literally every man in town) and enters the shop where an overworked Sophie loses her temper at her, and mistaking the hatter for her sister, she curses the girl to become old. In the film, she's explicitly exacting revenge on Sophie, whom Howl is interested in, and follows her and invades her shop after closing time, cursing her to be ninety years old. This is supposed to devastate Sophie - rob her of her youth, beauty and health, ending her life before she started them. But in both versions, Sophie acclimates to the change rather well, constantly noticing the perks of living as an old lady - she can mumble to herself and be seen as normal, she can be assertive and commanding without being inappropriate and/or bossy, and since she has nothing to lose, she might as well go exploring the world, if only to lift the curse. To revisit this as someone who didn’t expect to have the option of growing old, this is an empowering message on its own - growing old is what you make of it. But despite subverting the Witch's narrative, Sophie remains a helpless victim of her own narrative. Book Sophie is explicitly said to be a powerful sorceress unaware of her own powers, even enchanting her hats into the client's shape with her words alone, while in the film it's only implied. But in both versions she Unconsciously Maintains Her Own Curse: She reverts to the eighteen year old in her sleep, or when something silences her insecurities enough. In the film, she's explicitly shown to de-age as she gains confidence in herself under the role of the household maid, going from the frail ninety-year-old into someone who looks and acts as a woman just past middle age - I don't think this is incidental, as many women are at their most confident at that age, when they no longer feel pressured to worry about trivial matters such as beauty and childrearing, and retreat back into the original cursed form when Howl calls her beautiful - a compliment she can never accept. In the book, Howl eventually comes to the conclusion that she likes being old and gives up trying to guide her out of it. The book takes narrative subversion even further. Remember cunning Martha? Turns out, the Hatters didn't conform to their mother's narrative either - Martha was bored by wizardry while Lettie craved it. The two concocted a plan to glamour as one another, which of course the mentor witch saw right though, and preferred Lettie's genuine interest to Martha ghosting the craft. This stings extra once Fanny is shown to be a caring mother who attacks who he thought cursed her stepdaughter - perhaps she fell for the same sort of thinking Sophie did, and wanted her stepdaughter to have the best life possible for someone doomed to fail, thought extroverted Lettie enjoyed the attention and choice of men and wanted Martha to be a powerful, self-sufficient young woman who led a life more glamorous than she did, as someone who lacked magic? That Fanny was a real parent - a well-intentioned woman who completely misjudged her children and their future? Is it possible Martha’s own narrative has poisoned her relationship with her mother, perhaps beyond repair? As for Sophie, in the book she breaks her own curse by breaking the contract between Calcifer and Howl. But the film gives it more nuance - Calcifer and Howl are clearly in a codependent relationship: In both versions Howl gave Calcifer his heart in exchange for magical powers (as well as saving the fallen star's life, depending on your interpretation of the character), but by the time Sophie employs herself at the Castle, Calcifer feels more like a slave than a powerful demon. Howl himself has his own internal struggles, and many online have made convincing cases for BPD being among them. Calcifer is an essential part of his support system. Each one of them believes that if Calcifer isn't fed properly, or gets dunked with water, they'll both die. And once Sophie does so to stop the wizened, depowered Witch of the Wastes from literally being consumed by her obsessive desire for Howl, she too believes to have killed them both with her rash actions. But they live, because Sophie's part in a time loop led her to think otherwise and refuse to give up on them. Within the film’s universe, this ties into Sophie’s innate magical powers talking reality into her perception. But I know real-life, ordinary people who’s own narratives have changed grim fates.  Now, I don’t live in Ingary. I don’t believe the world around me has literal, reality-warping magic. I’m not a spiritual person. But this is precisely why Howl’s Moving Castle appealed to me - because the characters’ thoughts don’t perfectly dictate reality, but the way they act on their perceptions does. I know a man who is alive because his (now ex-)wife changed the narrative of his deathbed to one of optimism and efficacy. When I stopped trying to have my self-image reflected in the eyes of others, I transformed into a more confident, capable person practically overnight. I’m not delusional - I’m well aware of the Dunning-Krueger effect, of how reality exists whether you live in it or not. I’d like to think I live strictly within the boundaries of what is proven beyond reasonable doubt to be real. 

But your spin on reality dictates your life. It can dictate parts of the lives of your close ones. But the message isn’t one of just changing your own view of a situation around you to become happy, oh no. Lettie and Martha didn’t just choose to be happy in apprenticeships they had no passion for. Sophie didn’t just relocate to some quaint cottage to live the few years that weren’t stolen from her as an old hermit. They acted to transform the existent reality within their means, but they could only do so because they felt empowered enough to question their life’s narratives. 

[ikementally-deficient]

Advanced Entomology - Chapter 7: Metamorphosis

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice/Love and Producer

Rating: Carolina Reaper (See Masterlist for rating descriptions)

Warnings: dubious/uninformed consent, see masterpost A/N

Due to the nature of the questionable consent in this fic, if you enjoy this story enough to reblog it, please reblog the masterpost rather than individual chapters.

Author’s Note: Holy shit it’s finished! This last chapter was like pulling teeth, and it got both more emotional and less smutty (though still pretty smutty) than I intended. Tangential spoilers for chapters 14-18, although this has departed from canon pretty heavily so you probably won’t get too spoiled if you haven’t read those yet. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and spoke to me on discord and AO3, this never would have been completed without that encouragement.

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

He follows her up the stairs. It would almost be boring, if it weren’t for his knowledge of what awaits them at the top.

They climb in silence, Lucien watching the sway of her skirt ahead of him. He focuses on the pleats fluttering around her knees, her slender calves flexing as she climbs. He’s tempted to reach out and grasp her delicate ankle and pull her back, wrapping her limbs around him, ignoring his mission in favour of burying himself in her.

He’s pulled from his reverie by the sound of her shoes scraping to a halt. 

“We’re here.” She places her hand on the bar of the door, preparing to step out on to the roof of the tower. He’s still amazed at how easy it was to lead her here, pretending to follow the trail of clues he’d littered for her to find. He smiles fondly as she looks back at him, amber eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are you ready, Lucien?”

“I’m ready,” he purrs, stifling his anxiety about what lies before them. He’s done his job well. The Queen will trust him, just as his butterfly does. There is nothing to fear. He places his hand over hers on the crash bar.

The roof of the tower is disappointingly prosaic: an open square covered in gravel, with a steel pylon supporting an antenna. The only sound is the faint rush of traffic many stories below them. It’s hardly a worthy setting for the portentous event about to take place.

She leads him across the roof to the pylon and stares up at it. “Is this it? Is this what’s causing everyone’s Evols to go out of control?”

“All evidence seems to point that way.” He stares up, squinting against the sun’s glare. “The antenna is centrally placed, and high enough to reach most of the city.”

“How do we shut it off?”

Lucien holds his breath as she circles the pylon slowly, homing in on the red switch box. He follows her, coming to stand behind her as her hand caresses the switch. 

“Are you ready?” she asks. Her tone is faint, eyes absent. She might be talking to him, or herself, or the world. He casts one last glance up at the silent pylon.

Silly girl.

The switch clunks across its hinge. For a moment nothing happens, and Lucien begins to wonder if he’s miscalculated somehow. Then the pylon hums to life, and he feels the powerful amplification field spring up around them. 

“What --?” She’s shocked, looking up in disbelief. “It was already off?” He places his hands on her shoulders and she whirls to face him. “Lucien, what’s going on?”

“It’s been waiting for you, butterfly. Can’t you feel it working?” He can feel his own Evols responding to the field, but he’s been exposing himself to it off and on for nearly a year. Maintaining control is easy. Not so for her; suddenly dropped into the center of the field, she’s overwhelmed. Her eyes are wide and staring. He knows she’s being assaulted by images, possibilities, quantum futures, and it’s too much for her. With a shuddering sigh, she collapses against him. He gathers her unconscious form into a bridal carry and sits against the waist-high wall, waiting to see who awakens.

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

A faint whimper alerts him before her eyes flick open. Her pupils are so dilated the irises are nearly invisible, just a thin amber border around black pupils. She stares up at him with lips parted, and he is struck by the memory of her pinned to his living room floor, pupils blown wide with wanting.

“Hello,” he breathes.

She blinks a few times, pupils slowly contracting against the afternoon light. “Lucien?” Her voice is faint. He waits, and is rewarded. “Ares.”

“Yes, my Queen.”

She pushes away from him, climbing out of his lap and standing on her own. He rises to stand beside her, ready to guide her back to the stairs, back to Black Swan. He touches her elbow, but suddenly his fragile butterfly is a steel cable under his hand, immoveable.

“You didn’t need to awaken me,” she states flatly. He stares at her. She stares back, inscrutable. “You’d already headed off Zeus and Hades’ foolishness with the virus. You don’t need me here.” She looks around, dismissing him as unimportant for the moment. 

“I needed to complete my mission, my Queen.” 

“Your mission was a waste of time. Black Swan will never have me.” He watches her stalk to the switch box and flip it back to the off position. The hum of electricity dies, and he can feel all his hopes die with it. Her body language is alien, strong and certain and unquestioning and nothing at all like the butterfly he’s tamed. His heart feels cold. 

She glances back at him.

“She’s still here, Ares.” The Queen turns and walks to him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “She couldn’t leave.” He gapes down at her. “Idiot. Did you think neither of us would realise?”

“Realise what?”

“That you love her.”

It’s reflex that has him blurting out a denial of sorts. “I’m not allowed --”

She’s having none of it. “But you do. And so does she.”

“She shouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know. And so does she, now. We’ve seen everything.” Her hand slides down his neck to stroke his tie. “Every possibility. Every way this played out. Every betrayal,” she grabs his tie, nails scoring the silk, “And she still loves you, Ares.”

Lucien gapes down at her, at a complete loss. His mouth works for a moment before he can find words. “Why?”

The Queen smiles up at him, a self-assured Cheshire Cat curl. “Because even when you betray her, you protect her. As much as you can. It’s rather sweet, actually.” Her grip on his tie tightens as she begins to pull him down, a slow steady drag.

“I don’t -- I don’t understand,” he stammers desperately.

“Lucien.” It’s her voice again, the delicate butterfly’s sweet tone. “It’s alright.” She presses a gentle kiss to his lips and he’s back in the art gallery, so many months ago. He raises his hands to cup her face, losing himself in her soft mouth. 

At last they part, and he stares down at her in wonder. “I still don’t understand.”

She gives him a tremulous smile, and he can still see the Queen lurking in her eyes, but the smile is all her. “None of it matters, Lucien. No matter how all of this ends, you always love me.” Her cheeks bloom with the same blush he remembers evoking as they stood in echo of Klimt’s kiss. “And I love you.” She reaches up to clasp her hands around the nape of his neck. “Please, Lucien, take me home,” she leans in, pressing against him with an assertiveness he’s never dared dream of, “And take me.”

The idea of descending the stairs and taking a bus or a taxi never occurs to him. He slides his arms around her waist and steps backwards into her bedroom. His heel hits the foot of the bed and he’s falling backwards onto the duvet, pulling her down on top of him. She lands clumsily, straddling his hips with her hands planted next to his ears. 

“Are you sure?” Lucien’s voice is hoarse. It seems absurd to ask now, of all times, after months of practically forcing her to want him, but the mission is blown, the Queen autonomous, and he desperately wants something real to make up for everything he’s repressed in the name of Black Swan. 

She giggles and his heart lightens when she dips her head to dust kisses across his forehead and down his nose. Her lips trace a sweet path across his mouth and along his jaw, coming to rest next to his ear. A puff of warm breath accompanies her answer.

“I’m positive, Lucien.” Her kisses continue down his neck and into the gap of his collar, before she pulls back to start undoing his tie with an adorably focused expression. At last she pulls the silk out of his collar and eyes him contemplatively. 

“You know,” she says, and even in the dim light he can see both of them in her eyes. “You’ve worked so hard over the last few months to make me feel good.” She takes his wrists and tugs until he lets her lift his arms over his head, and starts to wind the tie around them. “I have the feeling you won’t believe any of this is real until I’ve had the chance to return the favour a little.” She leans over him, the fabric of her shirt brushing against his nose. He can feel the tug of the tie against his wrists until his hands are resting against the headboard. He twitches experimentally and realises she’s tied him to the bed.

“What are you doing?”

She crawls backwards down his torso until they’re nose to nose. “I’ve seen everything you’ve done to me, Lucien.” Her forehead gently bumps against his before she’s moving down again, undoing each button of his shirt and kissing the skin behind it before proceeding to the next one. “More importantly, I’ve seen everything you haven’t done, everything you could have done, everything you did somewhere else but not here.” Her lips brush his navel and Lucien can feel his abdominal muscles flinch when she trails her tongue across them. 

“Do you know,” she continues conversationally as her fingers make short work of his belt buckle. “You’ve done this in other places -- other timelines?” She looks off in the distance for a moment before shrugging. “Taken me to bed. Conditioned me.” The belt falls open and the zipper of his trousers follows suit. “But you always hold yourself back.” She smirks a little and he flushes, remembering the afternoon in front of the mirror. “Well, nearly always. It’s never been about you.”

Her fingers slide under the waistband of his shorts, and slowly pull until his erection springs free, hard and hot. She leans in and he shivers as her hair tickles his skin. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time.” She rubs her cheek along the length of him. “This is about you.”

His heart nearly hammers out of his chest when she takes the head of his cock into her mouth. Her mouth is hot and wet and the slide of her tongue has him gritting his teeth. At the sound of his groan she sucks hard and the headboard creaks as his hands are stymied in their effort to grab her. 

She slides off him with a quiet pop and grins. “Do you like that, Lucien?” Sucking him back in, she pulls his trousers and shorts down to his knees and nudges him to pull his legs free. He’s splayed in front of her, his only clothing the shirt hanging from his bound forearms. His hips flex, yearning to thrust into her mouth.

Lucien forces his arms to relax against the tie. “I do.” His body is aching to hold her. “But --” his voice falters.

“But what?” She waits patiently, crouched over him, breathing warmly against him as he tries to figure out how to just ask for something. Lucien represses everything for his mission. Ares takes what is necessary. But now, he has the opportunity to request his deepest desire and receive it, freely given, knowingly given.

“I want . . . “ He trails off, then sucks in a steadying breath and starts again. “I want to hold you.”

She blinks up at him. 

“Everything I’ve done up to now has been for someone else’s goals.” He licks his lips, mesmerised by the gleam of her eyes. “I just want to hold you. For myself.”

The catch of her breath is audible. They stare at each other in silence for a moment, Lucien painfully aware that neither his blush nor his erection are fading. Then suddenly she is slithering back up his torso until her mouth meets his in a desperate, hungry kiss while her hands work at the knot in the tie. The instant his hands are free he sheds the shirt and wraps his arms around her, one hand clutching her waist and the other buried in her hair. They spend several minutes in this pose, drinking each other in, bodies grinding against each other. Lucien feels like the hormonal teenager he once disclaimed to Zeus as he moans into her. 

Finally, the feeling of her clothing against his skin is too much. “Please,” he begs. “Let me undress you.”

She presses away from him, hands on his shoulders. “No, I don’t think so.” He can feel himself shrivel as she crawls off of him. Her hands move to the bow of her sash and his heart stops. “We’re done with you doing things to me, Lucien.” The sash falls loose and she slides the dress over her head and sits back on her knees, all pale pink flesh and white cotton underthings. She reaches up to touch the clasp of her bra and meets his eyes. “I’m doing this now.” She shrugs the bra away as the clasp slips open and shimmies out of her panties. A beautiful flush warms her breasts as she comes back to him and settles in his arms. “Do you understand?”

The emotional whiplash is wiped away by the feeling of her soft hair curling along his cock, recovered and straining against her. He holds her close again, waiting for her to make the first move. Patience is rewarded; she gathers herself to slide wetly over his cock, teasing him with her arousal. Long minutes of this and they’re both panting heavily. Each flex of her hips is slower, tantalizing him with the rub and gentle catch of her clitoris against the head of his erection. Finally, she raises her hips enough to angle him against her entrance and pauses, teasing.

“Are you ready?” she asks, that Cheshire cat smile on her swollen mouth. Lucien’s mouth is dry, but he forces the sound from his throat.

“Yes --” and she’s engulfing him, moist heat and delicious pressure and it’s so different from that day of the mirror because she’s in charge and letting him be inside her. All the muscles from his diaphragm to his thighs clench tight and spasm as she rides him, leaning back and dragging his hands up her torso. He follows and brings his mouth to her breasts, sucking desperately at her nipples as his hands clutch her hips hard enough to bruise.

She gasps as his teeth scrape across her and he can see her hand sliding down her own stomach in his peripheral vision. She tightens around him as her fingers rub desperately at her clit, and he loses all sense of control. His face is buried between her breasts as her orgasm shudders around him and he can no longer hold off his own, spilling into her and feeling all his discipline evaporate. They fall back into the sheets, still twitching around each other. Her mouth lands on his clavicle and she presses open kisses to it, each own mirrored by a shivering aftershock around his softening cock. 

“This is how it is from now on, Lucien.” Her voice is a hoarse whisper, but still sweet. “Can you accept that?”

He considers, long enough for his cock to slide out of her and the sweat on his chest and forehead to cool and dry. He’s not in charge anymore, and she’s not quite the butterfly he tamed. Black Swan will still need to be dealt with; the Queen is a threat to them now, and a rogue Olympian can’t be left alone. But -- 

He looks down at her and smiles. It’s not one of his practiced smiles, trotted out for appropriate reactions to appropriate occasions, and he has no idea what it looks like.

“I can, and I will . . . my Monarch.”

All things considered, the situation could be much worse.

[quinzelade]

By No Constraint (chpt 58)

SS x Danse

Chapter List

Thanks to my amazing beta, waiting4morning, for her wonderful work! Thanks to Musashi1596 for the title.

Major Brotherhood/Danse spoilers.

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--

The Wolf shall Dwell

--

Rough hands grab and pinch as her body drags through coarse earth. She trails on the edge of consciousness—

No. No, that had been the church. There was no blood this time, and she would not be carried from battle again.

Quinn pushed away the grasping fingers and dragged herself up, breathing heavily from her nose. Her son was dead, and she was crumbling inside. Ignoring Maxson, Quinn turned and walked towards the vertibird that was waiting at the edge of the Mass Fusion building. For a brief moment she considered striding past it and letting herself drop. But then she clambered aboard, settling herself into the nearest seat.

Maxson followed, frowning as he sat opposite her. “Are you alright, Paladin?”

“Fine, sir.”

He looked unconvinced but didn't push the subject. She was grateful for that.

The air was hot and dry, and Quinn’s ears buzzed from the blast. Grit swirled as the aircraft took off, leaving the city far behind. She wondered how many wandering the streets of Boston had been caught in the explosion, how many innocent scavengers and lost children and travelling peddlers had been wiped out.

The image of the bomb that ended her world was burned into her mind, its mushroom cloud reaching up into the sky, staining the atmosphere red. Now she could claim her place amongst those short-sighted leaders, the wasteland their nameless legacy.

Quinn leaned forward, holding herself. She hoped it had been quick for Shaun. She hoped Nate had been with him until the end.

Her state of hazed shock clung on like dust and spider webs until the vertibird docked at the Prydwen. She stood up, clutching at the aircraft to disguise the sway in her step, and lowered herself onto the deck. Both Rachel and Carson were waiting for her, the knight-sergeant wearing a strange expression. Quinn had seen it before, but she couldn’t understand why it was here now. She had done nothing to warrant Rachel’s suspicion.

“Where’s Bantios?” Quinn asked, deciding to leave Rachel’s odd mood for another time.

“With the rest of the dead,” Rachel replied, her features softening. “After that evacuation notice, the troops that didn’t go with us to the reactor had breathing space to collect the fallen. We managed to bring most of them home.”

“Good.” Quinn turned to Carson, and then realised who was missing. Her stomach dropped. “Shaun?”

“He’s with Cade—” Carson began, but Quinn shoved past him, suddenly in a panic. What would they do? Synth tests? Experiment on him? Kill him?

She ran through the ship, tripping over her own feet, causing people to stop and stare. Quinn ignored them all, so terrified she couldn’t breathe. Where was he? Where was Shaun?

She found him just as Carson said—sitting on a medical gurney in the sickbay, Cade perched on his desk with a clipboard in hand. They both glanced up as she burst into the room. Cade watched her for a split second while she stood in the doorway, panting, and then got to his feet. He put his hand in his pocket, and Quinn leaped forward, wrenching it out.

“Don’t you—!”

She stopped. Clutched between his fingers was a dull red lollipop. She looked at Cade to see he was staring with one eyebrow raised. Still, Quinn didn’t let go of him.

“He’s been in the Institute,” she said, her fingers digging in tight as she invented an excuse on the spot. “He can’t eat that. It’s not clean. It’ll make him sick, it’ll—”

“I know,” Cade said calmly, not trying to pull away. “Which is why I’ve been giving him his shots.”

Quinn blinked. “His...his shots?”

“That’s right. Everything he needs to bring his immune system up to scratch. Or, in other words...a standard stimpak.”

In a world filled with mutants and ghouls, this shouldn’t have been the most surprising thing she’d heard, and yet it was. “They can do that?”

Cade nodded. “An unintended—but beneficial—side effect. Have you never noticed that no one in the wasteland gets the diseases common from your time? You would have been especially vulnerable to it, and yet here you are, healthy.”

“I...I had wondered…” Quinn shrugged. “But with everything else going on, I didn't give it much thought. I just thought I was lucky, or that the nukes had wiped out all the germs in the area for good.”

Cade chuckled. “Disease is one of the few constants in life, as is death. Thankfully, I can postpone both.” He looked down at his arm. “Would you mind…?”

Quinn finally let go of him, flushing. “Sorry.”

“With everything you’ve gone through today, I think social etiquette is the least of your worries.” Cade passed the lollipop to Shaun, who took it without speaking, his wide, frightened eyes fixed on Quinn. The doctor leaned against his desk, considering her. “I won’t put you through any evaluations today, but I’d like a chat when you’ve had time to settle down with your boy. I’m sure finding him today was a great shock...in the best possible way.”

Quinn gave a muted nod, avoiding looking at Shaun. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“I also have a few injured to tend to,” Cade continued, straightening up. “Not as many as the church, thankfully.” He paused. “It seems lessons were learned from that fiasco.”

He gave her a pointed look, and she took his meaning. Elder Maxson had not made the same mistake twice. Better prepared. Better equipped. Better led. Was that why he had gone into battle directly after all?

Quinn didn’t care. She reached out and took hold of Shaun. His small hand fit snugly in her own.

“Thank you,” she mumbled.

Cade smiled, leading her from the room as he picked up a few pieces of equipment and stuffed them into a bag. “Anytime, ma’am.” He inclined his head and left, striding up the stairs to the dormitory above.

Quinn turned to see her friends waiting for her. Carson looked worried, while Rachel was carefully blank. Her eyes slid down briefly to look at Shaun, before flicking back to Quinn.

“Ma’am.”

Quinn pulled Shaun close. She didn’t know what Rachel was thinking, but she didn’t like her demeanour.

Carson seemed oblivious to the silent standoff. “You alright, Quinn?”

Quinn tore her gaze from Rachel and forced a smile. “Yeah. Just...I panicked a bit. Don’t want him out of my sight, y’know?”

“We know,” said Rachel. She was smiling herself now, her face suddenly warm. Quinn frowned. What the hell was going on?

She decided not to dwell on it as the four of them walked back through the ship. The injured were already laid out on the upper walkways, the same as before. But Cade was right—there were considerably fewer than last time. This time Maxson had waited for everything to be in place before sending his soldiers to war.

“Ma’am!” came a voice from those very walkways.

Quinn looked up to see Haylen leaning over the railings. Despite the grazes, burns, and deep shadows under her eyes, she was smiling. She beckoned Quinn to her as she said, “I think you should all see this.” She disappeared from view.

The three adults glanced at each other, and Quinn became aware of Shaun’s hand in her own again. Whatever was up there, he shouldn’t be exposed to it. He wasn't corrupted by the horrors of the wasteland yet.

Rachel seemed to sense Quinn’s reluctance, because she said, “I’ll look after him if you want.”

“No,” Quinn replied quickly. Rachel blinked at her, and Quinn offered an apologetic grin. “Like I said, I don’t want to let him out of my sight for the moment if I can help it. He’ll just have to come with us.”

Rachel shrugged and walked off towards the stairs. Carson threw Quinn a confused look, before following the knight-sergeant. Quinn hated the thought of what Shaun might see, but still trailed after them. She couldn’t say why she didn’t want to leave Shaun alone with Rachel, but there was a deep, nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach—a warning that something was amiss. The Prydwen was a lion’s den, and Shaun a lamb, protected only by Quinn’s presence. One false move, one wrong word, and they would both be torn apart.

Quinn kept a tight grip on him as they made their way through the rows of beds, each one holding a person in its sheets. To her greatest shock, some of them were wearing Institute uniforms. These patients were heavily guarded.

“We can’t interrogate them if they’re dead,” Haylen explained, answering Quinn’s unspoken question. The scribe looked disapproving, but whether that was because the Brotherhood were patching the scientists up or planning to squeeze information out of them, Quinn was unsure. The thought was quickly driven out of her head, however, as they reached the last bed.

The occupant was heavily bandaged and in a bad condition. But even with all the layers of gauze and salve, Quinn recognised her straight away.

“Case,” Carson whispered, stopping so suddenly Rachel walked into him. He barely noticed, striding to Casey’s bedside and dropping to his knees. He gripped at the sheets that covered her burned body, his fists trembling as he bit his lip.

Quinn was stunned. She stared at Casey for an age, taking in every detail. She looked on the edge of death, the visible patches of skin raw and peeling, the rest covered in the strange burn gel of Cade’s making. But despite her appearance, her breathing was strong and steady—the opposite of when she was in the Institute.

“How?” Rachel asked, looking as dumbfounded as Quinn felt.

“That young scribe asked me to look after her before he went with you to the reactor,” Haylen said, rubbing her eyes with her hand. “Said he’d done everything he could, but his efforts needed to be maintained.” She paused, looking down at Casey. “He did a real good job of it. A lot of promise, that kid. Shame he…”

A heavy silence fell over the gathering. Quinn took the moment to glance at Shaun. Far from being upset, he was looking at Casey with childish curiosity.

“Is she going to live?” Carson asked after a while, his eyes fixed on Casey.

“Uncertain to say for now, but Cade thinks she has a fair chance. Bantios gave her the best odds she’s going to get. So long as she stays this stable, it’s likely she’ll pull through...but she’ll never see out of that eye again. It’s completely gone.”

“I’m sure she’ll work her way around the issue,” Carson muttered.

“Scribe Haylen,” came a voice from behind them. The group looked to see another scribe with a clipboard in hand. Quinn immediately thought of Bantios.

“Right, right…” Haylen sighed. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to assist bringing in a fresh batch of medicine.”

“I’ll help,” Carson said, trying to get to his feet. At once, Rachel clamped her hand on his shoulder and forced him back to the ground.

“Stay where you are,” she said. “Your place is here. Besides, you can’t lift for shit.”

He didn’t argue with her, and the knight-sergeant left alongside Haylen without another word, leaving Quinn and Carson alone. Before Quinn could think of anything to say to comfort her friend, someone shouted his name.

“Liam! Liam!”

Kapraski, leaning heavily on a bent crutch, tottered down the walkway as fast as his leg would carry him. His pale face was flushed, his eyes wide as his free arm reached out. The crutch jammed in the metal slats and he lost his balance. But Carson was already on his feet, and he caught Kapraski in his arms, holding him tight. Kapraski dropped his crutch with a clatter and clung onto Carson, burying his head in his shoulder.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you again. I thought you ended up like Casey. I thought...I thought…”

“I’m here. I’m here, Tom. I’m alright.”

Kapraski pulled away long enough to kiss Carson, before returning to his shoulder.

“Mom?” Shaun was looking up at her, confused. “Why are they…?”

“Shh,” Quinn said, shaking her head. “I’ll explain later.” She led him away, back down the stairs and towards her room. Odd that he’d never seen something like that before, but then she supposed the Institute had been more of a workplace than a home.

“Mom,” Shaun said again. “I still don’t understand. Why were they hugging...and kissing?”

Quinn groaned. He clearly wasn’t going to let the subject drop. “Because they’re together.”

“Together?”

“Like…” God, why was something so simple this difficult to explain to a child? It shouldn’t be. Quinn threw caution to the wind. This was the wasteland after all, and most people didn’t give a shit anymore about that kind of thing anymore. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend, except they’re boyfriend and boyfriend. They love each other very much.”

“Like you and dad did?”

Quinn felt a lump in her throat at the thought of Nate and the original Shaun. She forced a smile. “Yeah, like me and...your dad.”

“Oh.” Shaun considered the concept for a moment, and then shrugged. “Okay.” He paused, looking at the lollipop in his hand. “Can I eat this now?”

“Sure.”

Shaun opened the lollipop and didn’t speak again for the rest of the walk back. Even when they were inside Quinn’s room, he just sat on the bed, swinging his legs while he sucked noisily on his candy.

Quinn stood in the corner, lost in her thoughts. There was something about the boy that still made her feel uncomfortable, even though she had made the choice to take him with her. Not his fault, of course, and something she would have to get over. But what if she didn’t? What if she became like Rachel instead? Had she been completely selfish in her decision to save him?

“Mom?”

Shaun’s voice snapped her from her deep thoughts. She looked up to see him cross-legged on her bed, the lollipop stick in his hand as he chewed his lip. Quinn bit back a sigh. “Yes, Shaun?”

“I don’t understand why you blew it all up.”

“Blew what up?” Quinn said, though she knew damn well what. Her insides churned as she waited for the inevitable.

“The Institute. They were like a family to me.”

Family. Her mouth fell open as a cold feeling rushed through her. Everything the original Shaun had been denied. Family. Did this mean love and care? Or the basic necessities to ensure this Shaun was happy? She tried to think of something to say, when Shaun continued.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said quickly, wiping his eyes and giving her a nervous look. “Just...so long as you don’t leave me.”

Quinn shook her head. “I won’t leave you.” She meant it, even though the very thought scared her. Why was she doing this?

Shaun paused, and then his eyes widened. “Oh! I forgot!” He jumped off the bed, stuck his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a new looking holotape. He handed it out to her, and Quinn took it. Shaun smiled. “Father told me to give this to you. I didn’t listen to it, so I dunno what it says, but...I think it’s important.”

“I’ll play it later.” She pocketed it, wondering whether to just burn it now. Hearing Shaun’s voice again might kill her.

There was a long silence.

“Mom?”

“Yes, Shaun?”

“Thanks for saving me.”

Quinn blinked at his earnest face, and felt the warm prickling in her heart again. “There was no other choice, honey.”

He grinned at her, and she found herself grinning back. She studied him for a moment, her maternal instinct kicking in. “When was the last time you slept? It’s been a long day.”

Shaun shrugged. “Dunno.”

“That’s not good enough. Bedtime for you, mister.”

“But Mom—”

“Don’t you ‘mom’ me. Get yourself to bed while I do some work. We’ll have plenty of time to sort out clothes and other things tomorrow. Sleep. Now.”

Shaun pouted but nodded before throwing himself onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and occasionally huffing as he shot glances at Quinn.

Quinn pretended not to notice and sat herself at her desk, pulling a yellowed piece of paper and an old pencil from one of the drawers. Last time, another officer wrote the letter home to Núñez’s family while Quinn had been laid up on a medical gurney. She’d only found out afterwards. It wouldn’t happen again. Her team. Her responsibility.

As she wrote, Danse’s team came to mind once more. All he’d lost, all the blame that he carried. Then she thought of Casey, and the chance given to her by David Bantios. Quinn made sure his mother knew exactly how many lives he had saved, in life and in death. Everyone. He saved everyone.

She signed the letter, sealed it, and looked over at Shaun. He was fast asleep, the lollipop stick still clutched in his hand. Quinn moved over to him and pulled it free. She paused, bending over to brush a piece of hair from his face, before stopping herself. Even at this young age, she could see all of Nate’s features. His nose. His eyes. The image of the boy she’d seen in Kellogg’s memories.

But this child hadn't been made by her and Nate. Everything she recognised was put there by someone else. Had Shaun purposefully given the synth his own childhood face? Her vision blurred, blocking the synth from view, tears dripping down her cheeks.

This isn't my son. My son is dead.

Reality crashed down around her as her legs buckled, sending her to the floor. Quinn held onto the bed frame for dear life, sobbing uncontrollably, not caring if she was noisy. Quinn still couldn't see, so when small, warm hands touched her arms, she flinched.

“Mom?”

Quinn tried to pull away, wipe her eyes, pretend she was fine. The small hands slipped around her neck, and she found herself crying harder, leaning back against the wall as she dragged the boy off the bed and into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, mom,” Shaun said into her ear. “I won’t stay up late again, I promise. I’ll be good from now on.”

Quinn couldn’t speak. None of this was his fault. But whether the decision to save him had been self serving or not, it didn’t matter. He was her child now, and she already she was starting to love him. She wept as she kissed his cheeks, his little body pulled close to hers.

--

How long she cried for, Quinn didn’t know. All she remembered was waking up the next morning, her eyes stinging. Shaun snuggled against her, both of them propped up against the wall.

She stared at him for a while, not wanting to move and wake him up, when a knock on the door made him jump. Quinn glanced up as Shaun wriggled free, blushing a little. She got to her feet, wincing as her stiff joints ached. “Come in.”

The door opened, and Carson popped his head into the room. Maxson wanted to see her.

As it turned out, it was Maxson and Kells. Between them, they gave her a long winded speech about their plans for the Commonwealth. Quinn gazed blankly at the two of them, barely paying attention. She must have looked a wreck, because Maxson was wearing a slight frown. Kells, on the other hand, seemed oblivious, and continued talking at her while Quinn stared at a point over his shoulder.

There was a pause, obviously meant for her response. Quinn made a guess at what Kells wanted to hear.

“Of course, sir,” she replied in a monotone voice. Maxson’s frown deepened.

“In light of your recent service,” he said, watching her carefully, “Captain Kells and I both feel you deserve unique recognition for your contributions, both past and future. It’s with great pleasure and the utmost respect that you are hereby granted the title of ‘sentinel.’ This is the highest honour a Brotherhood soldier can achieve, but we both felt strongly that it was well deserved.”

Quinn gave a muted nod as Kells began rattling on about a jetpack modification or something of the like. She didn’t listen to a word of it, only catching his congratulations at the end. Her lips ushered a thanks.

“So, Sentinel…” Maxson hesitated, and Quinn realised that he was worried. His eyes flicked to Kells, before quickly forcing a smile. He was going to cover for her. “For the first time since we’ve met, I have no orders for you. From this moment forward, you will decide which missions you undertake and how you will guide us.”

Was this really part of the role? Or was he just discreetly giving permission to distance herself from them?

“Captain Kells and the personnel at the Cambridge Police station still possess numerous operations for you to undertake. Where you go from here is up to you.” Maxson saluted her. “Ad victoriam, Sentinel.”

Quinn saluted back and mumbled a response before taking her leave. She had little to say to either of them. Promotions and jetpacks? She didn’t give a shit. Shaun was dead and the Brotherhood would be staying for the time being. No peace for her or Danse. But then again, had she really expected anything different?

Kells’ voice rang out over the intercom, relaying yet another victory speech. Quinn ignored it, walking back through the ship towards the workshop. She had left Shaun in her room and locked the door. No way in. No way out. She felt safe leaving him alone, but only for a little while. Already she was getting tense at not being with him, paranoid of what might happen if she wasn’t there to protect him.

As she walked across the ship, a voice cut through the air, as sharp as a whip.

“Well, it appears you got what you wanted.”

Quinn turned to see Doctor Li standing next to a series of consoles, her folded arms and ugly expression radiating anger. Quinn sighed, but after a quick glance to make sure the area was deserted, walked over. Better to get this over and done with.

Doctor Li’s scowl deepened. “The Institute’s destroyed and everyone up here thinks you’re a hero. At least you saved the boy.”

Quinn could feel her body sagging. This was an argument she wasn’t ready for, but she couldn’t back away now. “I didn’t want to destroy it. But it had to be done.”

“Just keep telling yourself that. I’ll bet it helps you sleep at night,” Li spat. She waited for Quinn to respond, and when greeted with silence, launched back into her rant. “The fact of the matter is, innocent people died because Elder Maxson had delusions of grandeur.”

“Yes, they did,” Quinn said dully, leaning back against the consoles in Li’s workspace and staring at her own feet. “But we managed to get most of them out.”

“To interrogate—!”

“No. Father showed me how to deactivate a majority of the synths, evacuate the facility, and add directions to avoid the teleporter that the Brotherhood guarded. By the time we stormed our way through, the place was deserted. Most of the casualties were our own soldiers at the hands of the coursers.”

She could feel the doctor’s shocked eyes boring into her, could hear the mumbles as her own words were repeated back to her.

“Father cooperated with you?” Li asked eventually. “Why? How?”

Quinn shut her eyes. “That’s my business. Not yours.”

Li clearly didn’t like her answer. “Why the hell should I believe you then? You’ve always been Maxson’s lapdog. Executing that synth paladin. Jumping at his every command. He kept preaching that the Institute was ‘playing God’ for creating the synths. Well, maybe he should take a look in the mirror, because he’s the only one I saw playing God.”

“And you helped him,” Quinn said slowly, opening her eyes and looking up at Li.

Again, stunned quiet. A bomb was about to drop.

“How dare you!” Doctor Li snapped, pointing a trembling finger at Quinn. “You know, I actually convinced myself that you were using Liberty Prime as leverage? That you were hoping for the Institute to surrender?”

“Just keep telling yourself that,” Quinn echoed in a flat voice. “I’ll bet it helps you sleep at night.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What else would it mean?”

“I thought you’d force the Institute surrender!” Doctor Li insisted again. “This is the second time I’ve let the Brotherhood betray me and I don’t intend for there to be a third! I’ve already told Proctor Ingram that I’m through working on Liberty Prime. I’m going to—”

Finally, Quinn lost her patience. Maybe Li was justified in her anger. Maybe she really had been unaware of Maxson’s intentions. But Quinn was beyond caring. The self-inflicted wound she had suffered was raw and deep, and any sympathy she might have felt for this deprecating doctor was washed away by overwhelming pain.

“You’re a fucking joke,” Quinn hissed, standing up so suddenly Li stepped back. “Or are you just wilfully ignorant? Everyone knows what Prime’s purpose was, before and after the war. How could you think Maxson would use that for anything other than annihilation? There was no betrayal. You just don’t want to take responsibility for the thing you helped make.”

“You—” Doctor Li began. Quinn cut across her.

“But let me tell you,” she said quietly, “if I hear a whisper of a threat against Shaun, I’ll kill you myself. Is that understood?”

Li’s face was white, her lips thin as a muscle jumped in her cheek. She looked as if she had many things to say, but after a few seconds she replied, “I would never endanger that boy’s life.”

“Good. I hope it stays that way.” Quinn stormed past the doctor, but then an idea hit her. She strode back, shaking her head, and grabbed the front of Li’s uniform.

Li struggled until Quinn pulled her close and spoke softly into her ear. “You are the only person who can ensure Prime doesn’t outstay its welcome.”

Quinn let go of her, her glare fierce in the wake of Li’s shocked expression.

“I...you…”

“I’ll tell Ingram that I’ve...convinced you to return to the Liberty Prime project, then?” Quinn said in her hardest tone, so that the words would carry to the walkways.

Doctor Li said nothing for a moment, her mouth hanging open. Then it clamped shut, her eyes full of determined fury as she gave a sharp nod. “Yes. But from now on I suggest we stay out of each other’s way.” Her last words were said with a sneer. “Ad victoriam, Sentinel.”

Quinn marched off, her blood pounding through her ears as her legs shook. Using the banister to pull herself up the stairs, Quinn made it to the very top of the ship. Her place. Danse watching her cry, before softly saying her name, coaxing her to this cold, windy sanctuary.

How long ago had it been since she first came out here? She could almost see Danse standing there now, wary of her distress, but determined to nurse the wound anyway. The first time, Quinn had wrapped herself in Nate’s words. The second, she had found out she was burying him. Now she was reaching out to the ghost of Shaun.

Quinn walked over to the railings and leaned against them, the dizzying drop before her a strange comfort. Would she really care if the metal holding her life gave way?

The thought of Danse and what he would think of such an event brought a sickening sensation to her stomach. He had endured so much to keep on living—not for himself, but because he knew she wanted him to stay. Quinn owed him that much in return.

With trembling fingers, she went to take Nate’s holotape out from her Pip-Boy, before she remembered it was long gone. Quinn bit her lip, swallowing her pain, and retrieved Shaun’s recording from her pocket instead, inserting it into the unoccupied Pip-Boy.

This recording was clearer than Nate’s, the crackle of age and damage absent. Shaun’s voice was unmistakeable.

“If you are hearing this, then whatever conflicts you and I have endured are over, and the synth made it to you in time. A fair trade, as it were. A tape for a tape, though you never wanted anything in return.

“I will keep him with me. Your husband. My...father. What a strange word to use for anyone other than myself. But I will play his tape until the end, as you asked. I must confess, it will be a relief. Is it childish to be scared of being alone?

“Maybe that’s why I sent him to you. Not just for his sake, but for yours. You showed me that we exceeded far past my expectations. We didn’t make them like humans. We made them human. And you care about him...about all of them in a way I never thought possible.

“This synth...this boy. He deserves more. He has been reprogrammed to believe he is your son. It is my hope you will take him with you. I would only ask that you give him a chance. A chance to be part of whatever future awaits the Commonwealth.

“But request or not, I think you will go above and beyond that. You won’t be alone. Neither will he. Neither will I.”

The tape cut. Quinn didn’t move. She stood in the icy gale of the ship’s decks, too numb to cry. Her fingers clung to the rails as she stood in silence, Shaun’s final, haunting message burned into her brain. It didn’t matter if she kept this tape or not. She’d remember it for the rest of her life.

A loud clang sounded behind her, and Quinn smelled the smoke long before she saw the knight-sergeant. It filled her lungs, making her cough and splutter until a soft laugh made her turned around. Rachel was leaning on the railings, puffing slowly on her cigar.

“What?” Even in her muddled state, Quinn could hear her own defensive tone. Rachel’s stare was so damn uncomfortable.

The knight-sergeant didn’t speak at first, dragging on the cigar until smoke clouded around them, choking Quinn. Within seconds it had cleared, revealing Rachel’s cold, knowing smile, the jagged mirth not reaching her eyes.

“I have a question,” she said, her words deliberately drawled. “And try as I might, I can’t find the answer. Maybe you can shed some light on the problem for me?”

Quinn didn’t respond.

The grin widened, becoming wolfish in nature as it revealed Rachel’s yellow, smoke-stained teeth. “We were all very happy when you were reunited with your son.”

She paused.

“The only issue is...you said he was a man.” The smile faded as Rachel ran the tip of her tongue over her canines. “An old, old man. So who is this boy, Quinn? Where did he come from?” The forced grin returned. “I’d really like to hear the tale.”

“The Institute lied,” Quinn said, her voice wavering as she tried to control her panic. Did Rachel know? “The man I met wasn’t my son.”

“And how did you find that out?”

“The Director told me.”

“Oh, the Director?” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “The Director you insisted facing alone. So why didn’t you go straight for your son then?”

“He…” Quinn swallowed, wrestling with the new lie. “The Director said he’d already activated the teleporters in the Institute and ordered them to take my son away. He had to stay behind to do that. Said I’d never find Shaun again...he…” She broke off, distress enveloping her. Her mind had gone blank, refusing to let her twist the tale any further.

Rachel puffed on her cigar. Her gaze was sharp and piercing, mulling over Quinn’s newest claim. Eventually, she straightened up, flicked her cigar stub over the railing, and nodded as she said, “Ma’am.”

Quinn staggered away, her heart in her throat. Rachel was seemingly appeased for now, but for how long? And who else shared her doubts? Her suspicions?

Quinn stumbled and nearly fell down the stairs as she rushed back to her quarters, only to find the door ajar.

Oh God. Oh no. They’ve got in. They’ve found him. They’ve—

She threw herself into the room. Shaun—who was half inside one of the lockers that lined her walls—squeaked, tripped over his own feet, and landed in a heap on the floor. In an instant, Quinn had scooped him up, pressing him to her chest as she began to fire questions at him.

“Why is the door open? Has anyone come in? Who came in? What did they say to you? What did they do? What did you tell them? What—?”

“Mom!” Shaun gasped, freeing himself from Quinn’s crushing embrace and stepping back. “I’m fine! I just wanted to explore so I—”

He jumped as Quinn slammed her door shut with an almighty bang, cowering away from her as she advanced on him.

“You left the room?” she hissed, anger pushing aside her hysterics. “All I do to keep you safe, and you just throw it back in my face like—?”

Her rage caught in her throat as she looked down on her son, his eyes wide with fear and brimming with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his back pressed against the bed from his place on the floor. She didn’t even remember him sitting down. “I’m sorry, mom. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

What the hell was she doing? Quinn crouched and silenced him with a hug, her own eyes prickling. She rocked Shaun in her arms as he started to cry, suddenly feeling awful.

“Don’t say sorry, Shaun,” she mumbled. “Please don’t. You did nothing wrong. I overreacted. I...I’m sorry.”

Shaun didn’t reply, but his sniffling lessened, until eventually he pulled away from her, wiping his eyes.

“Why did you go out?” Quinn asked gently. “You know I wanted you to stay inside.”

“I was bored,” Shaun mumbled, staring at his knees. “And the ship looked so cool...I just wanted to see...and talk to people. I used to talk to people at the Institute a lot. Like Doctor Li. She’s here.”

Quinn thought about the discussion she’d just had with Madison Li, and grimaced.

He suddenly looked nervous. “When you said you wouldn’t leave me...did you mean it?”

“You’re my son.” Quinn took his hands in hers. “I won’t abandon you.”

Yesterday she would have felt uncomfortable with such a statement. Today, it almost felt natural. Was she replacing her child with someone else so quickly? Or was she becoming attached because he was all she had left?

Her head was throbbing. Everything felt inherently wrong, and yet so damn right at the same time. Quinn couldn’t pinpoint where the conflict was—maybe it all just overlapped into one big mess. But it wasn’t worth thinking about right now. There was the problem of Rachel. In an instant, Quinn’s mind was made up.

“We’re going to leave the Prydwen,” she said in a low voice, “and we’re never coming back.”

Shaun blinked in dismay. “What? But I haven’t looked around here properly yet!”

“Listen to me,” Quinn said in the same low voice. “It’s not safe here. If we stay, we are in great danger. I can’t say too much right now, but I will one day soon. I promise. For now, I just want you to trust me. Okay?”

Shaun hesitated, biting his lip. Then he nodded. “Okay.”

Quinn kissed his head. “Good boy. Now get some sleep while I get what we need. We’re leaving as soon as I’m ready.”

--

A/N: Thank you to everyone for all the lovely comments. I haven't had time to answer them yet. I'm working on it.

Honestly, the dialogue with Li really irritated me in-game. She's yelling about being betrayed and how dare you use Liberty Prime that way, and how she thought it was just to intimidate the Institute to surrender and stuff, and I'm like...the thing fires rockets. WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN???

At this point I'm just using this fic as an extended 'stuff I wanted to say to like every character ever in Fallout 4' rant, and I don't intend on stopping anytime soon.

Speaking of not stopping anytime soon, we are reaching the tailend of BNC. But that doesn't mean I'm finished quite yet. There are things I have to wrap up before I'm well and truly done, and I am very excited for these things to happen. Either way, I'm about 90% done, but given that this fic is nearly 60 chapters long, don't expect a quick wrap up. BNC is going to be updated for a good few months!

[jenmedsbookreviews]

Okay. Yes. I admit it – this is my first Geraldine Steel novel!!! But I can guarantee it won’t be my last. I’ll be sharing my thoughts on the book with you all in just a moment, as soon as we’ve taken a look at what it is all about. Review spoiler alert … it’s bloody fabulous. (The book – not my review).

About the Book

With so many potential victims to choose from, there would be many deaths. He was spoiled for choice, really, but he was determined to take his time and select his targets carefully. Only by controlling his feelings could he maintain his success. He smiled to himself. If he was clever, he would never have to stop. And he was clever. He was very clever. Far too clever to be caught.

Geraldine Steel is back for her tenth case. Reunited in York with her former sergeant, Ian Peterson, she discovers that her tendency to bend the rules has consequences. The tables have turned, and now he’s the boss.

When two people are murdered, their only connection lies buried in the past. As police search for the elusive killer, another body is discovered. Pursuing her first investigation in York, Geraldine Steel struggles to solve the confusing case. How can she expose the killer, and rescue her shattered reputation, when all the witnesses are being murdered?

  Yep. It’s another hang my head in shame moment. My first Geraldine Steel. What have I been thinking? In fairness, as introductions to the series go, this has been pretty blinking fantastic so I can’t complaint, and think of all the fun I can now have going back and catching up. That said, and for the benefit of others who, like me, may not have read the other books, there are some very key elements of this book which give a little away of what may have happened in the previous book, enough to not leave the reader hanging, but perhaps not so much that it can spoil enjoyment of the book should you go back and read it.

At the start of this book, Geraldine has just transferred to the Major Incident Team in York and now finds herself working back with her former Sergeant, Ian Peterson. Being new to the station Geraldine is finding it hard to get the measure of her co-workers, not helped by the fact she is thrown straight into the thick of a murder investigation, barely giving her time to catch her breath let alone unpack. With her personal life complicating her professional life, you’d think the case would be a welcome distraction but not necessarily. Disturbing in nature, the violent murder of a young woman has the whole team stumped with next to no forensics and a rapidly diminishing pool of suspects. When a second person is murder in an equally violent way, the team think they have a connection and yet they struggle to prove it. And for once Geraldine finds her instincts are not as readily trusted and getting her new peers and superiors on side is proving a very big challenge.

Despite knowing very little about the characters or the series, I found myself pulled into the story from the off and unable to back away until I had finished reading. It is an extremely compelling story, if somewhat disturbing in terms of the style of murder, and form the very beginning Leigh Russell sets out to give the reader a kind of insight as to the mind of the killer, if not a clue to their identity. it is clear from the very start what kind of person they are, and with chapters littered throughout told from their point of view, it makes for quite a chilling read at times. I loved it.

Geraldine is a character I immediately felt drawn to. True, in this story she has a lot on her mind and some of the confidence she may otherwise have shown has been worn away by her current circumstances. But she is a determined woman, if somewhat insecure throughout this book, and I couldn’t help but root for her from the start. It can be hard coming into a series so far through, but not here as author Leigh Russell has done a great job of scene setting without giving too much away. Geralidine has a kind of intuition and a bravado you cannot help but admire, jealousy of her peers, particularly of Naomi and her easy friendship with Peterson, especially as she is so uncertain of where they now stand both personally and professionally. Their’s is a partnership which is perhaps not fully explored in this book, a little stilted, reflective of the new status quo, but yo can tell that there is a still a spark there. I’m intrigued to see how this develops.

The story itself is both twisty and twisted, the motives of the killer well hidden until very near to the end, even though it is clear from the off that someone knows more than they are letting on. I love the way in which the intrigue and tension are built, the way in which the author takes you right to the very edge of your seat without quite letting you fall off, at least not until she gives that final twisted push at the end and all you think you know will happen is turned right on its head. The narrative flows so smoothly, the story is so absorbing, that you will easily lose hours of your life reading and not even notice or, dare I say it, care.

I’m completely annoyed with myself that I haven’t discovered the series sooner as I have totally been missing out. If you are already a fan of Geraldine Steel then you will absolutely love this addition to the series, marking the start of a whole new chapter in Geraldine’s life. if you are new to it all, jump on in and get started, you won’t regret it.

Now I was fortunate enough to receive an invitation to the launch of Class Murder last week and it was a superb evening, brilliantly themed and my thanks to No Exit Press for the invite and for organising a fabulous night.

You can pick you your own copy of Class Murder from the following retailers:

Amazon UK ~ Amazon US ~ Kobo ~ Waterstones

About the Author

Leigh Russell is the author of the internationally bestselling Geraldine Steel series: Cut Short, Road Closed, Dead End, Death Bed, Stop Dead, Fatal Act, Killer Plan, Murder Ring, Deadly Alibi and Class Murder. The series has sold over a million copies worldwide. Cut Short was shortlisted for the Crime Writers Association (CWA) John Creasey New Blood Dagger Award, and Leigh has been longlisted for the CWA Dagger in the Library Award. Her books have been #1 on Amazon Kindle and iTunes with Stop Dead and Murder Ring selected as finalists for The People’s Book Prize. Leigh is chair of the CWA’s Debut Dagger Award judging panel and is a Royal Literary Fellow. Leigh studied at the University of Kent, gaining a Masters degree in English and American Literature. She is married with two daughters and a granddaughter, and lives in London.

(Image courtesy No Exit Press)

You can follow Leigh Russell on social media: Website ~ Twitter

Now for anyone lucky enough to be in the area on Monday 9th April, Leigh Russell will be appearing at First Monday Crime at London’s City University. First Monday Crime is a monthly gathering for authors, publicists, agents, editors, students, and avid readers of crime fiction. Each month a new panel of authors is lined up to discuss writing, the world of crime, and their latest novels. This month the panel’s line up consists of Rachel Abbott, Stuart Turton (The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle), John Connolly (The Woman in the Woods) and Rachel Abbott (Come a Little Closer), all overseen by the expert moderation of Barry Forshaw. You can find out more about First Monday Crime and book your place at the panel here.

Review: Class Murder by Leigh Russell @LeighRussell @noexitpress @1stMondayCrime Okay. Yes. I admit it - this is my first Geraldine Steel novel!!! But I can guarantee it won't be my last.