#the celestial family has a lot more... looming problems

[starheirxero]

PLEASE, I JUST CAUGHT UP WITH THE LORE ON MGAFS-

WHY IS PUPPET SO FASICANTING- HER ENTIRE CHARACTER IS ONE GIANT RABBITHOLE, AND I AM CURRENTLY SLIDING DOWN LIKE A KID ON A PLAYGROUND/POS-

I NEED TO DISSECT HER UNDER A MICROSCOPE-

SHE IS SO SHTDHJRF-

WHERE DO I EVEN START-

Puppet, in their entirety, is a MYSTERY-

They are this otherworldly, all-seeing being. Not quite like Frank and the astrals, yet similar in the strangest ways, with the ability to erase people's entire existence, the ability to tear them apart atom by atom.

Yet, in the same breath, they are so painfully human.

They USED to be one. She used to be a little girl, whose childhood and humanity was robbed.

And still, they aren't quite the same as Dazzle, or Andrew and Jake.

They are not a ghost possessing a suit. This is their physical being.

Furthermore, they age.

Dazzle is the same she used to be. Jake and Andrew, at the end of the day, are still kids.

In Laes, Gregory mentioned his ghost friends, and the fact, that he'll outgrow them.

They are all stuck in time.

Yet Puppet isn't.

They are not only a adult, but an old one at that. One, that continues to age. They are the oldest in the cast.

They used to be a lover. They are a mother. They are protective and fierce, just like one as well.

She's different, in every way possible.

Furthermore, she's not a normal animatronic either, so much is sure. Yet, she's not human. She's not an astral either, nor is she anything like Frank.

Not to forget, that her entire past is a mystery, one that she has been running from for decades, it seems.

And now it's catching up. It's clawing at her, forcing them to face it.

There's another them now. One that seems…dangerous. This one is erratic, yet calculating. Cold, yet there's humor in their voice. Almost hateful, yet casual.

And they hold even more power than Puppet. And it wants Charlie.

Charlie, who wandered into the woods to chase fairies.

Charlie, who seems much too curious for her own good.

I CANNOT- THIS IS EVERYTHING TO ME, ACTUALLY-

I'm so interested in Puppets EVERYTHING!!!

It's also interesting to note, that the Celestial family is currently doing well!

Sun is learning magic, coupled with goose puns left and right-

Earth is taking it easy, and even got herself a bunny!

Moon has his own lab, and seems suprisingly relaxed, despite everything involving Ruin, Molten and Dark Sun!

Lunar, though nervous, is generally making the most out of their time while waiting for Taurus!

Hell, Moon even got a house for the three brothers! :D Which is just adorable-

I feel as though this is another calm before the storm though-

I REFUSE TO TRUST THE PEACE/SILLY-

-Stardust

RIGHTTTTT?>?!?!!?!??!!

YOU SUMMARIZED MY THOUGHTS ON PUPPET EXACTLY FOR REALZIES !!! We've known the sort of... rough frame of Puppet for so long, and now we're finally getting more direct drops at who and what Puppet used to be and I am HOOOKEDDDDD 🙏🙏🙏

AND YESYESYES HER WHOLE THING WITH STILL BEING CHARLIE ENRAPTURES ME. I also totally didn't know that other ghosts on tsbs have been confirmed to not age?!?!!???? THAT JUST MAKES HER AN EVEN MORE FASCINATINGLY EXCLUSIVE CASE..... And on top of that, just yesterday Puppet had been asking Eclipse how to help with FC being haunted by Andrew, to which Eclipse asked "wouldn't you know more about that?", and she just sort of trailed off going "probably. not really." LIKE ?????

AND THE OTHER PUPPET I CAN'T EVENNNNMI CAN'T EVENWHAJABAKSBSJD IT'S AO FUCJING EXCITINGGGGGG YALLS AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

Honestly that whole episode just did a fantastic job at dread. We don't even have a full picture on what happened to Puppet's dimension other than it died a long time ago, so we get to experience the horror of watching it start to pick itself back up again alongside Puppet who is horrified for similar and different reasons at the same time!!!!!

IT'S ALL JUST. SO. FASCINATING!!!!!!!!!!!

AND YESYES tsams n tlaes have been pretty mellow as of late too!! It's been leaning more on the sweeter side with bonding time and domestic sillies and prioritizing each other instead of anyone getting totally lost in work. but yea no like u said, it ABSOLUTELY feels like the quiet is going to get sucker punched with 1 million horrors attack HAKABSKAHS

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

[aion-rsa]

Lucifer Season 6 Episode 8 Review: Save the Devil, Save the World

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This Lucifer review contains spoilers.

Lucifer Season 6 Episode 8

“This is the worst idea the doctor has ever had.”

It’s the rare episode of Lucifer that moves outside its comfort zone of dead bodies, shady suspects, and puzzling evidence, but “Save the Devil, Save the World” does just that as it hones in on a much bigger problem. The end of the world appears nigh, and no one knows why. 

While the introspective offering ventures into clip-show territory, the past scenes never feel obtrusive, nor do they stand in the way of fresh, new material. It’s fascinating to learn how others see you, and that’s certainly a big part of “Save the Devil, Save the World.” But it’s how we see ourselves that becomes the focal point of Team Lucifer’s reaction to Doctor Linda’s book about their leader. Of course, the greatest revelation is Lucifer’s confession that “I don’t want to be God,” since it opens several narrative doors along the way. Who will take over for Dear Old Dad now that Lucifer has taken his name out of the running, and does this mean that the celestial war was fought for nothing?

It’s not clear whether Linda deliberately brings her manuscript into the open, but it does appear she needs some validation, not only for the work she’s done with Lucifer but the others as well. That it’s only a first draft is made abundantly clear on several occasions, and it’s not surprising that everyone’s eager to dive into the material for a myriad of reasons. 

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Lucifer Season 6 Episode 7 Review: My Best Fiend’s Wedding

By Dave Vitagliano

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Lucifer Season 6 Episode 6 Review: A Lot Dirtier Than That

By Dave Vitagliano

For the most part, I’m not sure we really need all the forays into the past to tell this story, however, where Ella is concerned, these flashbacks paint a compelling tale of the power of faith. “Was it fun for you guys watching me walk around without a clue?” Yes, she’s hurt that the others didn’t feel they could trust her with the truth, nevertheless, Lucifer makes certain she knows she’s never been alone through all her trials. It’s her faith in the absence of proof that warrants admiration even though she still faces serious spiritual doubts. And then there’s the exchange she has with Carol in front of Lux when we know she’s bursting to tell him everything she’s learned. “It’s not my secret to share,” and his reaction reinforces everything we’ve learned about Chloe’s LAPD replacement. He’s a good guy.

In many respects this is Dr. Linda Martin’s story, and it opens with an inexplicable scene in which we see the aftermath of her sexual encounter with an unnamed dude. Though he’s made significant progress in his five years on the couch, Lucifer seems oblivious to what’s going on. More to the point, did something happen between Linda and Amenadiel? Regardless, once her manuscript becomes the focal point of the team’s search for answers, the questions become muddled. Linda wonders what her Hell loop would look like as she dodges accusations and criticisms of her character assessments. There’s no reason to think she hasn’t resolved her guilt related issues with Adriana, so her preoccupation with Hell seems unfounded.

At one time or another, all members of Team Lucifer find their way to Linda’s couch, and while she offers suggestions, answers must come from within. Lucifer, however, takes her decision to withhold the book’s ending as a sign she feels he’ll fail in his quest to become God, and while there doesn’t seem to be any truth to that assessment, it does provide a catalyst for Lucifer’s nuclear family to work through their abandonment issues. 

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Lucifer Season 6 Episode 5 Review: The Murder of Lucifer Morningstar

By Dave Vitagliano

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Lucifer Season 6 Episode 4 Review: Pin the Tail on the Daddy

By Dave Vitagliano

You have to give credit to Rory because as forsaken as she feels, she’s still willing to give her father another chance. And this time it appears Lucifer may have finally broken through her guarded exterior. In an episode of call backs, allowing Rory to take a shot at her dad, ironically solidifies the family bond. Though she’s not part of the original group, Rory now sees her father in an entirely different light, and while we still don’t learn the circumstances behind Lucifer’s absence during her life, she now knows that he loves her unequivocally. 

Even though we don’t see Eve in this chapter of the story, Mazikeen’s personal and emotional growth continues to shine, and her encounter with Dan stands as one of the episode highlights. Dan still struggles with his current state and remains unable to determine the guilt that prevents him from entering Heaven. “I’m going to torture your ass right into Heaven,” Maze tells him, but even she strikes out in the attempt to learn the source of his subconscious remorse.

It’s easy and understandable that we get caught up in the various characters’ angst driven reactions to passages in Linda’s manuscript, but Ella seems to be the only one truly focused on the coming apocalypse. With one of the snappier lines in the episode, Lucifer notes that Dad “probably thinks the apocalypse is a teachable moment,” but we also have to question how seriously he’s taking the situation. Still, it’s Ella’s insistence that ecological and environmental changes seem to presage the end of the world scenario that she describes and make for a nice piece of relatively unobtrusive social commentary.  

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As we head into the final few episodes of Lucifer, an apocalyptic scenario looms overhead, leading viewers to finally get serious regarding the series’ conclusion. Nod to Heroes aside, someone needs to take charge, save the world, and ascend to God’s throne. A classic setup episode, “Save the Devil, Save the World” arranges the pieces on the board, and now that Amenadiel has returned with an answer, it won’t be long until the end of the series. 

The post Lucifer Season 6 Episode 8 Review: Save the Devil, Save the World appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/393i4U2

[sandersstory]

Teaser #2: Character Sheets

(View the rest of the teasers here.)

In the lead up to the first episode release date (31st of January), we will be posting teasers every second Saturday, 6am AEST! 

Don’t forget to audition before November 30th! You can audition for any of the characters mentioned excluding the Narrator.

By order of appearance:

1. The Narrator

The Narrator is a nameless, omniscient observer. Whether or not they are good or evil, human or monster, mortal or celestial remains entirely up to you. Why do they care so much about the guidelines? Why do they watch the students? What is their purpose? Why do they resent the Headmaster so much? Are they controlling the story or simply recounting the events?

We may never find out.

2. Logan Berry

Logan is a demisexual (trans) male with a fear of failure. Originally from Seattle, he now teaches at Florida - that is, until his parents decide that his obsession with his own failures needed to be addressed.

As a child prodigy, Logan’s parents happily allowed him to extend himself. He began university at the age of 17 and completed his teaching degree, then promptly moved from Seattle to Florida. While he insists it’s because Florida had more job opportunities, it’s really because of his strained relationship with his parents. They’re supportive, but not very sensitive. 

Now 23, he suffers from the immense stress he puts himself under with his heavy workload, which resulted in him passing out and gaining a fever on a family holiday. He feels like he constantly has to prove himself to his job, his parents and maybe even himself.

The thought of failure is too much for him to bear, so he has cut “distractions” from his life. Without friends for two decades, he’s become closed off and clinical. 

However, a certain college theater actor may just change that through the power of friendship and maybe even love - ahem, close friendship.

3. Patton Adde

Patton is pansexual, male, 22-years-old and the sweetest person you’ll ever meet. He speaks fondly of his sister and is keen to finish the course so he can go back to looking after her, even though she was the one who insisted he went. 

While Patton’s family wasn’t exactly rich, his parents financially supported him as he worked through his apprenticeship at 18. However, a house fire the year after resulted in the deaths of both his parents, leaving him to take care of his teenage sister (19 as of the beginning of the podcast). 

This responsibility has caused him to wisen up and value each moment spent with people but has left him terrified of fire and ovens. He took time off from his apprenticeship to work through this fear, yet nothing has been effective so far. With another person to support, he’ll do anything to get over it, even if that means ignoring the peculiarity of the school.

His brotherly instincts may come in handy in getting the lonesome Virgil to open up.

4. Roman Lucanus

Gay and proud Roman always thought he would thrive at university before making it big in Vegas, but after failing high school, he’s forced to attend the same community college as his twin brother. He’s been in a bit of a block for the three years since.

As an identical twin, Roman has always prided himself on being different and standing out, though that’s hard to do when your brother is as absurd as Remus. Roman has adopted a brave face and a massive ego in an attempt to distance himself from his twin, but when he gets on stage all he feels is terror.

Roman grew up poor and dreams of a big break, but with his stage fright standing in the way of that and his brother’s shadow looming over him, he’ll never get anywhere.

His personality is quite similar to Logan’s, so the two butt heads a lot. Their arguing may eventually lead to a friendship as they learn that they have a lot more in common than they think.

5. Virgil Sanders

Although Virgil is afraid of many things, they’re the most sarcastic, rebellious and angry twenty-something-year-old you’ve ever met, and no, Roman, they are not a vampire. Probably.

Having been raised by Mr Sanders surrounded by creatures in the dark their entire life, their perception of the outside world has been heavily skewed. They fear things many people would consider normal, such as: sunlight, people, tight spaces.

They still believe their birth parents are out there somewhere and they desperately want to search for them. Virgil has a phone, freedom and has planned to run away their entire life, but has never worked up the courage.

They’re a very bitter individual, as for the first decade or so of their life, Mr Sanders kept the mysteries of the mansion hidden and whenever Virgil questioned him, their voice was stripped from them.

Though Virgil initially distances themselves away from the newcomers as much as possible, their knowledge of the outside world is what draws them in. 

Will Patton, Logan and Roman give Virgil the courage to free, or will they remain here succumbing to the shadows?

6. Mr Sanders

Little is known about the Headmaster. The newcomers know his last name is Sanders, he’s at least 30, he has researched and consulted several professionals in order to develop the most effective course he can for his child, and that he’s human.

Of course, that last point is wildly inaccurate, but they don’t know that.

Mr Sanders took Virgil in when they were really young - too young to remember their birth parents. By shielding Virgil from the monsters and horrors in the castle, he assumed he was doing a good thing, completely unaware of the damage done to their psyche.

Now, he knows better. He knows Virgil resents him and he knows there’s nothing he can do to fix that, so he���s trying his hardest to do one last good thing for them before they leave the mansion for good - getting rid of their fears.

7. Emile Picani

Dr Picani graduated from Stanford University and has been offering his services for almost a decade, yet this is by far the strangest set of patients he has ever encountered. 

He’s well aware that something isn’t right about the school, but the sum of money Mr Sanders offered him makes him forget about that, for the most part. Plus, he has ample room to hang up his posters - even if a certain student keeps trying to steal the Disney ones.

However, when he finally gets Virgil to open up, he realises that he can’t ignore the glaring problems with the school any longer. Even if it means investigating his employer.

[kalynnternet]

How I became Agnostic

This post is a sort of silent play/series of movie screen captures that detail the how, why, and when of my becoming an agnostic. I’m sharing in hopes of expanding the amount of personal experiences told by the agnostic community, since there are many ways one can be agnostic and believing only one narrative is limiting.

ACT I : Childhood Existentialism

My name is Kalynn and through the next 20-ish photos of my poorly-cropped self, I hope to provide an interesting take on my agnostic origin story. 

I was raised by a conservative Christian mother and my very-opposite-of-that father:

I grew up hearing about Jesus and God and was very sheltered from any religion outside of Christianity. As a kid, it was just basic knowledge that God created the Universe. I didn’t know anything outside of Christianity, and I remember being confused when I found out people did things against God’s rules or when someone casually stated that they didn’t believe in God.

But my pure relationship with Jesus would soon be tainted by my family’s and church community’s stories about Hell... The idea of eternal punishment suffered by non-believers was and sometimes still is one of my greatest fears.

Thinking back on it, this was a pretty intense conversation topic to be discussing with a 7-year-old. My experience with religion then on was weighed down by worries of not doing enough or not believing enough. 

I was sort of just going through the motions of religion, getting saved and baptized because I thought that would protect me from infinite torture. Passion for the faith and love for a celestial being took a back seat, my fear overriding any actual feelings of belief in the religion. Looking back, I can see that I didn’t truly have faith in the way my family wanted me to even before I was exposed to the “secular world.”

I had a nice childhood, but the threat of going to Hell always loomed in the distance. I thought about death more than a child probably should, keeping tallies of sins and figuring out ways I could possibly rectify them. It was my main source of anxiety for most of my young life and I struggled for a long time...

ACT II : The Influenced Middle Schooler

Among the bustling chaos of middle school life was where I really began to “stray from God’s light,” one might say.

I think one of my biggest influences came from the music I started listening to. I look back fondly on my days of sneaking into my mom’s computer room and listening to “Slut Like You” by P!nk and, as pictured below, “Va Va Voom” by Nicki Minaj (a song about seducing a taken man).

Songs like these helped to desensitize me to “immoral” lyrics, cuss words, and using God’s name in vain. After a while these things became casual parts of conversation around friends. Once my rhetoric evolved to include these sayings, my relationship with Christianity as I was raised to believe it started to weaken. 

And then, I developed my first crush on a girl.

WOO did this put a dent in my standing with Christianity. This crush was on one of my friends “Kasey,” and it ended up causing problems in our relationship because I started acting weird around her and tried to avoid her (I was told all my life that homosexuality was an instant ticket to Hell, no way was I going to willingly explore my feelings).

I think one of my aunts started to suspect I was “going down the wrong path,” so she gifted me Christian “help” books such as the one above (Lies Young Women Believe). I remember skipping to sections dealing with homosexuality and reading the advice given there, but it only managed to make me feel guilty instead of curing any gayness (surprise surprise). As I feel is the case with many ex-Christians, conservative Christian views on homosexuality is one of the biggest reasons I dropped out of the faith. Its views about women was also a big “yikes” moment for me, even when I was still figuring out what “feminism” meant.

Middle school was also when I heard the term “agnostic” for the first time.

My friend Drake and I were having one of our scheduled existential school bus talks when he mentioned that I might be “agnostic” since I knew I wasn’t an atheist but I also didn’t feel like “religious” or even “spiritual” applied to me anymore. 

After talking more in depth about what the term meant and researching a little on it, I decided I would adopt the term for myself.

ACT III : Optimistically Agnostic

As I move along my academic journey, I have solidified my position as an agnostic even more in present time.

Education has been probably the biggest factor in my becoming an agnostic. Learning about how much our society has been dampened by patriarchy and white supremacy and whatever else really opens your eyes and makes you view structures you thought you knew differently. 

Going to college has presented me with all kinds of new experiences as well, and I’ve learned that “White Christian America” isn’t all there is. There are so many ways of understanding, especially when it comes to religiosity, that I find it impossible to say one is better than another. Who am I to tell you that your religion is false?

However...

Although I have just described my reasons for falling out of religion, I want to clarify that I don’t think faith is stupid, pointless, or bad. 

There are plenty of upsides to it that recently I have been more open to experiencing. I realize now that the problems I had/have with religion come from others’ interpretations of it.

There’s a quote from the legendary Carrie Fisher that goes as such:

“I love the idea of God, but it’s not stylistically in keeping with the way I function. I would describe myself as an enthusiastic agnostic who would be happy to be shown that there is a God. I can see that people who believe in God are happier... But I doubt.”

As usual, Carrie Fisher has elegantly put into words what I feel. 

I’ve grown to be comfortable in the “agnostic” label and now I feel like re-exploring feelings of spirituality. I’m still valid as an agnostic when I do this. In fact, you can be agnostic and also part of a religion if you feel like it; agnosticism is defined as admitting you don’t/can’t know what happens in the afterlife, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hope for something or feel like there is something after death. Likewise, you could also be an agnostic atheist if that fits you better.

There is a lot of discourse surrounding agnosticism, including people arguing if it’s even an actual thing, what constitutes a person being agnostic, whether it’s just a placeholder, etc. Some people consider it to be an intellectual endeavor; by stating the fact that no one can actually say what happens after death, no one can prove or disprove any religion. Others see it as a humanist approach-by saying simply that you aren’t sure, you aren’t disrespecting or endorsing any religion over another. If there’s anything that studying rhetoric has taught me, it’s that using confining language to talk about an identity isn’t something that goes well. 

I am agnostic because sometimes I find myself believing there is something in the afterlife, but I don’t know what it is and there isn’t a way for me to know for sure. I’m comfortable with this identification, it has helped me leave my depressive existential crisis state. 

Thank you for reading my experience with agnosticism!

End

[a2bos]

Why I am Leaving the Christian Faith.

I feel like I need to put in writing why I have decided to leave the Catholic faith (save for the obvious reasons anyone might leave). 

I was raised in what I call a lazy Catholic house, with very NOT lazy Catholic family ever looming. My mom’s side of the family is Protestant, mostly Lutheran or Baptist, while dad’s side is all Catholic. Because we interact more with dad’s side of the family, that’s the faith that had the most sway in my upbringing. I distinctly remember my first communion- white dress, tiara, veil and all. We didn’t even attend church weekly (save for when dad would get guilty about something). I never really believed any of the stories. Sure, some of the lessons are good, but you don’t need Jesus to tell you not to be a dick.

My feelings really began late middle-school, early high school. When I discovered the church’s backward attitude toward people I considered my friends. LBGBT+, Women, sex in general, even the poor. I remember one distinct day in mass, at the end. The priest mentioned that there were people outside the church on a street corner begging, usually as people exited the church. And he told the congregation not to give them anything. That if they really needed help, they would just walk into the church’s kitchen and ask. Something about that seemed off. A church shouldn’t be preaching to avoid the needy, whether they are truly in need of help or not. A church should be preaching generosity and caring. Not to immediately judge someone based on who they decide to ask for help. 

At first, I thought my problem was with the Catholic church, and that maybe I just needed to look at Protestant churches, as some of them tend to be a lot more slack and inviting. And a lot of the churches I visited or researched WERE more inviting, safer, and caring toward my friends. But something still felt off every time I listened to a sermon or recited oaths. Then, I figured out that it wasn’t the churches or the congregations- it was the god. 

Every church I went to preached of a god- Yahweh*- who was an omnipotent, all-powerful, perfect being. But if the church is to be believed and Yahweh created the universe and has a plan for everything, then why does evil exist? Supposedly the angels would have been a part of his plan, so why would he have ever allowed Lucifer to fall? The issue of free will, both for Celestials and humans, in and of itself is a paradox that requires at least one teaching to be a straight up lie. If Yahweh is all-powerful and omnipotent, as the church teaches, then Celestials and humans have no true free will, and his perfect plan predetermined that Lucifer would fall and that specific humans would turn away from his supposed perfection, therefore going to a hell that he wants no one to have to endure. But, if humans have true free will, and are able to turn from his path and choose hell without his consent (which is not there, as Yahweh supposedly doesn’t want people going to hell), then Yahweh cannot omnipotent or all-powerful. And while personally, I have no problem following a god who is not all-powerful, I do not enjoy that god falsifying the extent of his abilities.

I am leaving the church because I do not enjoy being lied to. If a god cannot make up a lie that doesn’t contradict itself, he has no reason for me to follow him.

This whole realization took a few years to take root, and I wasn’t really thinking like that until my senior year of high school, and I wasn’t truly able to put it into words until a few months ago.

*I’ve stopped capitalizing ‘god’ in my writing entries, as I personally believe Yahweh is one of many but that is a post for a different day. And I’ve started referring to the Christian god by name, as not many people know that he happens to have one. Most often I see him called Yahweh or Jehovah. So those are the names I tend to use.

[bluebookbadger-blog]

The Price of a Life - Chapter 4

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

At home - Truth did I just call it 'home'? - I left Lucha in my room - oh Truth 'my room'? I couldn't deal with this personalization, I needed to find a way home to my home in the real world - ugh, no time for an existential crisis and reality shattering revelations!

I needed a legitimate reason to get to East City. I was sure I could whip something up to get me over there quick so long as I used Shou Tucker as my excuse. Still not sure how I would end up doing that or what I would do when I got there, I grabbed my notebook, packed a few changes of non-dress clothes, and Lucha into my bag after changing. It was a dress this time, real pretty and white with a red bow around the waist. Ugh, I was turning into a cliche main character of some fantasy anime….oh wait.

I ran back to the room Mrs. Hughes was letting me stay in and grabbed a change of clothes - a pair of slacks, another white blouse and a dress jacket. Ugh, I hated formal clothing that involved pants.

"Almost done in there Irish?" Denny asked impatiently. I sighed, Maria had told him to go to the bathroom before we left Command. Why didn't he listen?

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'll be right out Miss. Daisy." I yelled back at him, trying not to curse. Truth knew I had a problem with that when I was in pain or sick. Right now, it was pain, the source being my feet, which were getting sweet revenge for my decision to go barefoot this morning.

It was still early in the morning when we got to the apartment - maybe 10 o'clock at the earliest. Still, Gracia had taken Elicia to a friend's party and the house was totally empty, with Maria and Denny as the exception. I was both excited to go and see if I could put some form of a plan in action and sad I was going to leave the Hughes' residence.

Playing with Elicia, eating family dinners, going to work every morning and dealing with Miss. Reich and Albert - all of that made this 'place' (yes place, I gave up on convincing myself this was a dream - the talk with Maes that morning cemented the new reality) feel normal. Going to East City to see if I could do something to change the story meant I was going to dive into a hellhole of trouble and danger - not that I cared or realized that as I watched with amusement as Denny rushed past me to the bathroom.

He was starting to grow on me. He was a lot like my 'little' brother Matt. Both were taller than me, longer blondish hair, and awkward - in the best way possible. And Maria reminded me of my older sister, Mary. They looked nothing alike, but they both had that motherish but mostly military feel to the way they addressed you. It made you nervous and comforted you at the same time.

"You okay Irish?" Maria asked, waking me from my daze as I stared at her. I realized my eyes were filling with tears - again. I really needed to stop crying all the time. It was almost as bad as my bad habit of skipping sleep.

"I'm fine; we need to get to stop at the main street grocery store - my boss is going to kill me for being late." I said as I wiped the fresh tears from my eyes. No time for nostalgia - I had things to do and people to see! Lucha - I was sure Truth wasn't there by the amount of snoring that came from the fluff ball - was asleep in my bag.

After writing another note and permanently borrowing another pen from the Hughes' stash, we headed out of the apartment. At the front door, a man was arguing with his wife over a missing umbrella - to which I booked it past them to the car. Maria and Denny gave me an odd look that I ignored as the car roared to life and thundered down the street. Miss. Reich was going to be pissed.

When the car finally pulled up to the little shop I shrunk in my seat when Albert waved to me. He was so cute! I hoped the guy found a good partner, he really deserved one. His enthusiastic waving was cut short as Miss. Reich stormed out of the back room. Maria and Denny got out of the car first, slightly slowing the woman's angry approach. I all but fell out of the car, looking anywhere but at my boss as she came to a stop at the front door and tapped her foot impatiently.

"You're late," She said accusingly, her voice low and dangerous. Miss. Reich shot an angry glance at Abert who turned and went to man the cash register without a word between the two. When your boss uses telepathy, you know you're in trouble. However, before I could get a word out, my babysitters spoke up.

"Miss. Irish has become involved in a series of murders in Central, she is an eyewitness to the crime."

"We believe she has information on the killer, and is therefore under our jurisdiction. Please excuse her absence." Maria said after Denny. Gosh, I loved these guys. I wished they could just talk for me sometimes. Miss. Reich looked to me, as if not fully convinced.

"This true, Irish?" She asked, sounding slightly less pissed. I looked at my feet, my cheeks feeling warm in my anxiety.

"Yes ma'am." I said curtly, tightening my grip on my bag. Lucha wiggled around for a moment before lying still. I hoped Truth wasn't possessing the poor guy again. Miss. Reich pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Fine, it's not like I can fire you anyhow. So, what's with the entourage, going somewhere?" I looked up, my confidence growing now that I knew she couldn't fire me. Sure, I wouldn't burn down the store or anything crazy, but at least she didn't scare me as much anymore. Still scary, but not overwhelmingly terrifying.

"This is 2nd Lieutenant Maria Ross and Sergeant Denny Brosh. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes asked them to babysit me. I actually plan on going back to Command to see if I can help with anything; Mr. Hughes has been very kind to me since my arrival here in Central and I wish to repay him." Miss. Reich looked to Maria and Denny, who nodded simultaneously. "Do you mind if I take the day off? You don't need to pay me or anything-"

"Yeah, sure. It's fine, not like you really do much since I already did your morning chores for you." She sounded dejected as she said this, her blue eyes trailing to the window and avoiding my own. Now I was concerned. Was she worried about me, or was she really sick? It seemed at the moment that the latter was likely.

"Uh, okay. Thanks, ma'am. I'll be back soon." To be honest, I didn't know how long I'd be away. I really wanted to live a quiet life here and have a steady job, but that would mean sacrificing the opportunity to change the future. Damn these decisions. We left soon after, not wanting to hang around the shop as customers began appearing. We drove back to Command, the ominous building casting small shadows with the midmorning sun looming overhead.

"You're boss seems really nice," Denny noted, only heard once the car's hellish sounding engine died down. I nodded, a splitting headache from the lights of day impeding my ability to process that statement.

"Yeah, I guess she is-" Major Armstrong was standing in the middle of the reception room of the enormous building, almost seeming small in the large crowd of officers. Almost. He approached us slowly; Denny, Maria, and I gradually gravitating towards one of the halls.

I had to follow them - I had no clue where Hughes' office even was in the mess of rooms and halls. However, I did make sure to note the path we took - it would be important to my future tampering. We seemed to be heading in that general direction, when an idea struck me.

"Can we go to the archive room? It should have anything I need to cross-reference." Maria, who walked beside me, gave me quick glance.

"Sure, do you want to see Hughes first?" I shook my head.

"I need to get focused - and from the looks of that folder I'm going to be busy for a few hours." I said, noting the thick binder Major Armstrong had tucked under his arm.

"Ah, yes - I had nearly forgotten - here is the list you requested Miss. Irish." Armstrong said as the four of us progressed down one of the many long hallways. I nodded, taking a very thick folder from him. It was like an AP US History binder, without a spine and almost twice as big. It would take hours just to sort the files, let alone find any State Alchemists that would be pertinent to the future. I decided against opening it until I found a table - Truth knew I'd drop it or something clumsy like that. We arrived at the archive room, which Maria kindly opened for us.

It was gorgeous. Bookshelves everywhere, the smell of fresh ink and old paper - a truly glorious sanctuary for any bibliophile. I stood there gawking at the dimly lit room so long that Armstrong had to prod me to move along since I was wasting my time looking at all of the intricate land and celestial maps. If I had the time, I'd spend hours pouring over every book and article that was in that beautiful room. Alas, it was not to be, as the Armstrong Squad looked to me expectantly.

"So, what do you need a list of State Alchemists for?" Armstrong asked as I eventually made my way to a table that Maria and Denny had seated themselves at.

"Well, Basque was pretty well known, right? I mean, even up in Drachma we heard of how he performed in the Ishvalan Civil War. I didn't see his eyes, but maybe-"

"You think Scar might be Ishvalan?" Denny asked, surprise evident in his bright green eyes. I took a slow breath. I had gotten so far, I couldn't mess this up now!

"Maybe, but we have no way of knowing. Still, his little speech before he attacked Basque sounded similar to the praises the Ishvalan monks used to do - but you know, more holy war and less simple life and peace." I said as I handed out a quarter of the stacked papers to each person present, reserving a quarter for myself.

"Even if he is Ishvalan, he is targeting Alchemists with questionable pasts and morals. It would help me a lot if you guys could help me sort these papers by location; south to the left with Denny, north by Major Armstrong, west by Maria, and I'll take the east. Just put any alchemists stationed in central in the middle of the table - Scar isn't likely to murder here for a while since I'm an eyewitness," I finished, immediately delving into my files.

We worked in silence for a bit, I taking note of every alchemist in my pile and the pile I was sorting. Anyone could get involved just because of my presence, therefore I needed to have an understanding of my possible allies or enemies. It took me a little longer than the others to sort through my papers, but I was making good pace.

"You seem to have a very organized plan in mind for narrowing down his next victim," Maria said, not taking her eyes off the paper she was reading. "How exactly do you plan on doing that?" My brilliant plan devised and undisclosed to you readers during the car ride could finally be revealed in all its brilliance. In short, I had no freaking clue.

"Well, he targeted Basque because of his involvement in the war from what I overheard, but from the way he spoke his victim demographic spreads to those who practice alchemy in a way his religion deems 'unnatural'. I'd have to guess that includes experiments involving living creatures, philosopher stones, the like." They were all staring at me now.

Fudge. I had forgotten that I had lied to Wrath about the philosopher's stone. Did they know? I mean, Armstrong was on a pretty tight leash and really didn't have a choice if the Fuhrer asked him for some information on the new immigrant girl. Well, this was going swimmingly.

"You know about philosopher's stones but not alchemy in Drachma? How does that work?" Armstrong asked, glancing at me with steely blue eyes. Damn he could be intimidating.

"We know about it, it just isn't practiced. I'd say we know as much and care as much about alchemy as you here in Amestris do about alkahestry." Why was this study session feeling like another interrogation? I was getting really tired of these thinly veiled questions of my origins. I already told them my story, I was going to stick to it.

"Hm, alkahestry. That is practiced in Xing, correct?" I looked over my glasses at Armstrong, the questions irritating me for some reason. They guy was acting as if I was involved with every criminal in the country.

"Yes, I read books on it in my mother's library in our old house."

"Why did you come here, Irish?" Denny asked, getting bored of sorting papers but noting my frustration with the way the Major was beating around the bush. I shrugged, noticing that my pile of unsorted papers was thinning.

"If you wanted my life story you could have just asked, Major." I said with a snort of amusement. These guys were a riot. One minute they're being intimidating and strict, the next their nonchalantly asking about your secret past.

"Why is a kid like Ed a State Alchemist? Why are you working for the military? Why is the sky blue and the grass green? There's not really a simple answer without context and a story behind it, but to put it simply without degrading its importance, I decided to help people. No particular reason why here, could have been Creta or Aerugo. I just felt that-"

"Yo, Mac!" Hughes said as he busted through the door, thankfully stopping my rant before I dug myself a deeper pit. Truth, I really made no sense at all did I? I hoped Armstrong didn't report this.

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes," The military members present said as they stood upon his arrival. Man, that was some dedication they had. These chairs were actually really comfy.

"I just thought you guys could use a break. Go get lunch, it's after noon already." The bubbly man said as the other soldiers filed out of the room. Hughes made his way toward me. I was so worked up over the mini interrogation session I just wanted to get the papers sorted and be done with it. "What are you doing?" He asked, peering at the carefully organized papers.

"Sorting the alchemists by region. Scar would have most likely skipped town; but he'll double back. Serial killers tend to have a predictable territory that they peruse regularly. Since he has so much land to cover if this really is a holy crusade of sorts, he needs to be moving in a circular pattern before returning to Central to start the cycle over again. Once I figure out his most likely path based on the concentrations of his victim demographic, I can determine his next target-"

"What's bothering you?" Hughes asked, not in the least bit interested in the serial killer he was supposed to be tracking. Way to show commitment to your work buddy! I was almost done sorting the last of Armstrong and Denny's papers. It seemed only Maria was able to focus on her work instead of getting distracted by backstories. I didn't look up from the work.

"Nothing," I said, my eyes briefly passing over Shou Tucker's face. It sent shivers down my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. He was really creepy looking, like the kind of guy who drives the white van around town looking to kidnap little kids.

"Listen, if it's still bothering you-"

"No, it's not that. Go get lunch with the others, I'll be there in a bit." I said with a sigh, shuffling through the eastern alchemist papers first and pulling out Tucker's paperwork while looking for similar registrations to make my 'assumptions' of trouble brewing in East City seem more reliable.

"I already ate." The older man said, sitting across from me and looking at Tucker's paperwork and picking it up. "Looking for possible targets?" I nodded, pulling out a few other similar accounts from the pile I was mulling through.

Johann Adlersflügel had done studies in chimera breeding, it seemed they had been thought infertile but with alchemy he had made it so that he could breed two chimeras of the same 'species'. He lived in East City too, so I put it where Tucker's paperwork once was.

"Mac," I looked at him angrily. I just wanted to get this work over with, I wasn't ready for any more therapy sessions or interrogations today. "Come on, let's get lunch."

Resigning myself to his hospitality, I followed him with a few murmured protests. I really was hungry, as I hadn't really had a breakfast that morning. Not to mention throwing up leaves you pretty hungry. I followed him, searching the walls for maps. They really needed to invest in some with this labyrinth of a building.

We arrived at this little cafe diner area, nothing big or fancy but kind of homey. It was easy to find the table Armstrong was at, Maria and Denny dwarfed next to the man's imposing stature. Hughes went to order me food, leaving me to either stand there awkwardly or to join the trio who had already begun their meal. Mustering the most realistic smile I could, I walked to the table and sat next to Maria.

"How the food here?" I asked cheerily, hoping to sound genuine. I was curious - though I doubted it could compare to Gracia's cooking. It seemed just about everyone had ordered a sandwich, Major Armstrong had finished his meal from the looks of it and was now reading a newspaper, but Maria and Denny were still eating.

"It's okay, not that I can complain - it being free food and all." I nodded at Denny's explanation. As I had said before, who would turn down free food?

"I think I've got just about everyone back in the archive room sorted out. From the looks of it the highest concentration of alchemists fitting the target demographic are in the east." I said, taking the sandwich Hughes handed me. Mystery meat and mystery vegetables on mystery bread. Taking a bite, it tasted vaguely like smoked turkey, but it still had that unidentified flavor from somewhere.

"I have to go to East City today actually, you could come if you'd like Irish." Hughes mentioned, not even touching his food. I looked to him with surprise.

"Why?" I asked, searching his face for any real emotion. For the happy go lucky guy the series always portrayed, Maes Hughes was really hard to read.

"Confidential, Mustang is calling me in for a case." Crap, when did this happen? I couldn't remember, so I ate my food quietly.

"Sure, how long's the ride?" I asked in between bites. I was starving, and the mystery sandwich was actually really good.

"About a night if we catch the next train." Hughes responded, finishing off his own meal. I nodded at his response, looking at the glass plate in confusion. Where do we put these? Do they have a dishwasher somewhere? My silent questions went unanswered as a waiter of sorts collected the dishes. He wore a military uniform, but I had noticed him earlier floating from table to table collecting used utensils and glasses.

"When's that?" I asked, giving Lucha a piece of sandwich I had saved. He didn't seem interested until I all but poked him with it. Then he jumped up so violently it nearly knocked the bag over.

"About an hour, will that be enough time for you to pack your things?" I patted my bag, partially to keep Lucha from spilling it and partially to put emphasis on my statement.

"Already done,"

"You expected to figure out where you were going today?" I smirked at Hughes, the smile tugging at my features.

"No, but it's best to be prepared."

An hour later, we were at the station. All of us, Armstong looming over the crowd of waiting passengers like a skyscraper. I had only ridden on a train a few times in my life, mostly to go to NYC and visit my Uncle Patrick there. You see, he worked with Marvel there, so we'd always go and see movies with him and he'd point out anything he helped with or edited. Uncle Pat was awesome.

But these trains were different; they were old, rickety, bustling steam engines. I had never ridden one of those, so I was just a little excited. Okay, I was literally pacing back and forth and occasionally snapping my fingers quietly, I was just so damn energetic! Then, I felt the rumble somewhere down the line that sent miniature tremors through the platform. Though I couldn't get close to the rail with the crowd, I could hear the pistons thundering as the train approached.

"What are you so excited about?" Denny asked, observing my jittery behavior as the train pulled up. "It's just a train ride." I shook my head when he reached for my bag. I didn't want Lucha to get lost with all the other luggage. The rush of getting into the train sent a bustling wave of energy over the platform, and I had little time to admire the locomotive's exterior before I was pushed inside the iron horse.

"I haven't ridden a train here in Amestris before." I said as I boarded the train, looking around in amazement to take in the beautiful interior. The windows let in light that illuminated the wooden tables and benches that people seated themselves at, the five of us finding ourselves at the last empty seat. Denny, Maria, and myself seated adjacent from Hughes and Armstrong.

"You traveled all the way to Liore on foot?" Hughes asked once we were seated. I shook my head at Hughes' question, too entranced by the atmosphere.

"No, just not a train from Central…" A man was saying goodbye to his wife as he headed east for business, a pair of parents were wishing off their oldest child who was heading east for school, it was both sad and entertaining, all of the bustle and hustle. Denny laughed every time I saw something exciting that made my head swivel around like an owl's. I couldn't help it - everything was just so interesting and new.

By the time the train was pulling out of the station, most people were quiet, chatting with the people around them or quietly reading a book. I probably should have found a book in the library considering it was going to burn down in a few days, but it was too late now that the train was pulling out.

"What time will we get there?" I asked, looking out the window as the locomotive gained speed. Hughes shrugged pulling out a book and some case files.

"Sometime tomorrow - probably afternoon, but morning if the stops are fast." I nodded, watching as the city faded into small farms and scattered houses.

"Do you have a map I could borrow?" I asked, not fully recalling the layout of this world. Hughes nodded, digging around in his own carryon bag before pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Thanks," I said quickly as I unfolded it to trace my path to East City. The font used was weird, making it hard to read some of city names, but first the train would stop at...Nipppax? Okay, sure, Nipppax, then it would go to Geob, from there to Awrosut before finally going to East City.

I hoped we got there by morning, but then I realized that meant sleeping. On a freaking train. Sure, it was a cool way to travel but the seats weren't exactly comfortable to say the least. I looked out the window with a sigh, folding the map back up. Denny was already starting to doze, his head occasionally bumping my shoulder as he struggled to stay awake. At least someone was going to sleep well that night.

It was dark outside by the time everyone was asleep, the cabin of the car illuminated only by a few dim electric lights and the stars. There was no moon out tonight, or at least no moon that I could see. Outside the window was just pure blackness, and the reflection of the lights inside didn't help.

Denny was gently snoring, becoming my big little brother of this world more and more with each passing second. Maria's head was slumped forward, but nothing besides her closed eyes indicated her unconsciousness. Hughes was sleeping on the table, splayed out on top of his paperwork. It seemed all that coffee had finally caught up to him. Armstrong slept like a soldier, his face stoic and his arms folded as he slept sitting straight were times when I looked to him and was convinced he was awake only to find is breathing slow and deep.

A passenger somewhere behind me was loudly snoring, another in front of me murmuring about financial worries. Even with the thunder of the train's mechanisms, the car was oddly quiet. The strangeness of the quiet unsettling, I laid down my own head, using my own bag as a pillow. Lucha crawled out as I put it on the table, curling up next to my head as I put my forehead against the rough fabric. I closed my eyes, awaiting the sweet abyss of sleep.

After what felt like a few minutes pass, I opened my eyes in frustration at my own inability to sleep and discovered an unnerving sight. It was day now, and though the train was still moving, no one was there. Lucha and my bag were missing, along with everyone else in the car. The unsettling silence from a moment ago had returned, but was now joined by a distant static, like that of a broken television.

I looked around, checking every seat for some sign of life, but found none. The train was still moving, and the cabin was well lit, but blackness encompassed the windows, seeming to bleed through the frame and infect the wood interior of the car.

"Where is everyone?" I breathed quietly, my own voice sounding far away and terrifyingly disembodied. I looked to the doors at either end of the car, each leading to another passenger car. Maybe there was an emergency of sorts and everyone had to move to another car? But if that was so, why was I left? Where did my bag and Lucha go?

"Sweetie!" I flinched at my father's panicked voice, the words strained and filled with terror. "Sweetie, get out of here!" If anyone could see me now, I probably looked insane. I looked back and forth between the two doors, unable to tell where the voice was coming from.

"Irish! Keep your knees up," A new voice joined the mix, Coach Lawless' normal criticism of my P.E. class performance. This voice definitely came from the doors behind me, but my father's voice still softly beckoned.

"Sis!" It was my little sister, Fionna's voice this time, coming from above me. "Sis, I want to be an astronaut! Can you build me a spaceship?" All of my siblings; Matt, Fionna, Mary, Aiden, Brian, and Lìadan started talking in chorus with the other voices, the cacophony of sound giving me a headache. Each was saying something different and vaguely familiar.

"Help!" A new voice screamed above them, all other sounds silencing at its shrill cry. It was my mother. I ran towards the back door, tugging at the doors. They seemed locked.

"Mom?" I asked, my breathing fast and my chest feeling hollow. "Mom? Mom!" I ran back to the doors at the front of the car, which swung open before I could touch them. McDougal's form blocked me from exiting the cabin. He wasn't smiling or frowning, just looking disappointed. The man said nothing as he stood there. McDougal was almost monochrome, his uniform grey, his skin white. His completely black eyes and hair were the only defining sources of color. He approached me slowly without taking a step, his feet not moving as he advanced.

A thousand 'nopes' ran through my head as I ran to the back doors that now opened to a hallway in the Central Command building. Not questioning the logic of the nightmare, I ran as fast as I could down the hallway with McDougal in silent pursuit. It diverged often, but I just ran straight ahead. It never seemed to end, and looking back the train car was now missing. Only McDougal's frowning, unchanging outline followed me.

I bolted down the next side hallway that came up, the ground giving way below me. I screamed as I fell, the air rushing through my hair and clothes as the white ground quickly approached. Sirens blared, the static from before now filling my head with its buzzing scream.

I awoke with a gasp, sitting up stiffly as I tried to calm down. When my eyes adjusted to the light streaming from the window I noticed that Denny and Maria were no longer beside me. The panic from the dream gripped me for a moment before I saw them standing and stretching after the long train ride. Hughes was picking up his papers, while Armstrong appeared to be asleep still. Noting my apparent alarm, Hughes shot me a concerned glance.

"Bad dream, Mac?" I shakily put the still sleeping Lucha into my bag, frustrated with myself for my temporary moment of hysteria.

"Yeah," I didn't care to further explain, too focused on getting off the dreaded locomotive in case the dream wasn't over yet and some new horror awaited me. I stumbled out onto the platform, dazed by the bright lights of the station. Rain pounded on the roof overhead, reminding me of my purpose here. I had little time to dwell on the dream - dreams were just regurgitated memories after all.

I quickly checked the time on the large clock on the wall. It was a little after 11:00, meaning the Elrics were probably at the Tucker's already. I was about to rush out of the station when Armstrong grabbed the back of my shirt, preventing me from sprinting to glorious, rainy freedom. I looked up at the taller man quizzically. I had forgotten Maria and Denny were my babysitters. The two finally emerged from the car, looking exhausted. And I was supposed to be the one having sleeping issues.

"Morning sunshine," I said jokingly, elbowing a sleepy Denny in the ribs. "Ready to go target hunting?" His response was mumbled complaint about coffee. Maria's half-awake ramblings were aligned with that sentiment. "Oh, gosh. You're all addicts. Fine, coffee shop first, then to-"

"Lieutenant Colonel Hughes!" A voice snapped to my left, interrupting my fantastic plan of action. He was smoking from the smell of it. Hughes saluted back at the man as he stepped off the train car, his luggage tucked under arm.

"Good to see you, Havoc." I looked from the bedraggled man to Hughes. This was Jean Havoc? He looked like he belonged in a bar, behind a bar, or at the pub; somewhere with booze and women, not in uniform. Contrary to the image he had in the show, real life Jean had a 9 o'clock shadow, but was all around either drunk or goofy looking depending of your point of view. Hughes clapped my shoulder, startling me from the disturbing image of this man driving one of the prehistoric cars around under the influence. "Mac, this is 2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc. He'll be your chauffeur for the day." I glared at Hughes. I did not need more babysitters. I could take care of myself, more or less.

"Nice to meet you Mac-"

"Please call me Irish, and the pleasure's mine Havoc, just don't crash the car."

We ended up in one car, again. But this time Jean was driving and as much as I'd like to have faith in his driving skills, the occasional swerving due to the rain was not helping calm my fears.

"So, Hughes," I asked, having not gotten an answer from him the day before. "Why are you here in East City?"

"I told you, confidential. Mustang called me in for some business." I rolled my eyes and even sitting in front of me I could see his grin.

"Sure, whatever you say Maes," He now shot an injured glare at me that brought a smile to pull at my lips. "So, Havoc first order of business is…" I looked over Tucker's file for a moment, unable to recall the address. "44 Lockwood Drive. The Tucker estate please." Hughes and Havoc exchanged a brief and tense glance at one another. Silence enveloped the car, only broken by the rain's thundering outside. "Was it something I said?"

"Major Shou Tucker died last night," Havoc said grimly, "The Scarred Man killed him, and the chimera too." Hughes' eyes widening slightly before he murmured under his breath,

"The bastard got what he deserved, I guess." I looked back and forth between the two, then back at the confused Armstrong Trio behind me.

"What the hell did I miss?"

"Well Mac, all I can say is you're really damn good at predicting targets." Hughes said, rubbing his face in frustration. Well, I guess the moral dilemma had been temporarily put off until the next death in the series? Still, that meant I was in East City for nothing. I guessed I could visit the Elrics, but in case you hadn't noticed, I could barely deal with my own issues let alone the boatload of problems the Elrics would get themselves into.

"Who exactly is this girl Hughes?" Jean asked, looking back at me for a moment. I had to resist the urge to yell at him for taking his eyes off the road. Noticing that the usually excitable man was pretty distraught at the moment, I took it upon myself to introduce myself.

"Honorary Citizen Miss. Irish of Drachma. Nice to meet you Mr. Havoc, sir." I mock saluted, hoping he wouldn't look away from the road to see me. It was bad enough these 1914 cars had a stiff steering wheel and the roads were chocked full of people, I didn't need a distracted driver too. Well, the roads weren't very crowded now, with all the rain, but that just made it harder to see anyone who dared to go outside in this weather.

"Nice to meet you ma'am. Now tell me, how does a pretty little lady such as yourself get wrapped up with the military." Jean asked, his lit cigarette gradually filling the vehicle with smoke.

"She's only seventeen Havoc, don't get ahead of yourself." A disgruntled Maria said, reaching over me to flick the man's head. I forgot to mention there were no seatbelts, yet another hazard of the 1914s. If I survive the Promised Day I was so getting these people up to par with modern safety standards.

"Yeah, and it's a long story." I added in, subconsciously reaching for my necklace that brushed against the slowly fading bruise. Jean chuckled, like an older cousin Timothy chuckle that made you think they knew more than you did.

"We've got plenty of time." I sighed at his comment, looking out the window. Hughes hadn't said a word since the mention of the Tuckers' deaths, glaring out at the window as if angry with the rain.

"We all need some coffee first," I said, looking back at a tired Denny that Maria shoved away from herself as the man began to doze off again. "Know anywhere good?" Jean smiled, chomping down on the stub of his cigarette.

'The Cafe' read the sign above the quaint little shop. Not the most creative name, but at least it was pronounceable, unlike the names of the stops the train made. It was Maria who dozed off during our ride there, even though it was no more than ten minutes. We all hustled into the dinner, even Hughes shaken from his dejected state by the cold, pounding rain. Inside, a waiter began to lead our group to a table. When all was said and done, I had ordered coffee for everyone but myself and Havoc.

"So, mystery girl, what's your story?" Jean asked, his cigarette having been put out by the rain. He had been pretty peeved to learn that the small diner didn't allow smoking, but the man didn't complain.

"You first pretty boy." I retorted, not in the mood to retell this entire story from its beginning. Again. Jean laughed, hitting the table.

"See? You do find me attractive!" I glared at him, but knew it was all in good jest. He was just trying to get a rise out of me.

"You're girlfriend wouldn't be too happy to see you now, would she?" I responded with a sniff, smirking at his startled face.

"I never said I had a-"

"No, I was guessing. But, now I do know you have a girlfriend." Jean glared at me before giving a huff of amusement.

"You are one smart cookie. So, this is how you figured out Tucker was going to get the ax from Scar?" I shrugged, feeling an unwelcome blush come across my cheeks.

"No, it was more criminal psychology and plain common sense-" I stopped talking and, smiling, nodded a thank you to the waiter who brought four mugs and a pitcher of coffee. Though the one on one with someone who wasn't trying to question me too seriously was nice, I was feeling a little abandoned by the Armstrong Squad and Hughes, who were falling asleep in their seats. Were they that dependent on coffee, or did they sleep worse than I did last night?

"Still, how did you narrow it down to Tucker? East City?" Jean asked, calming down his energetic attitude the more conscious the quartet of coffee addicts became. Armstrong had gotten himself coffee, but he wasn't fighting to stay awake like the other three.

"Well, Scar would skip town after he let a witness go, and judging by his target demographic-"

"Woah, the guy actually let a witness go? Man, is he alright?" I let a small chortle of amusement get past my lips. Havoc was one of the first people to not mistake me for a guy on our first meeting, and I could see a beautiful friendship somewhere in the far, far, future. Maybe.

"Yeah, I'm good," Jean looked at me, confused for a moment. Sighing, I rolled my eyes. "I was the witness, Scar let me go." Unbelieving, Havoc turned from me to Armstrong, then back to me.

"Sure…" People either believed rumors about me, or believed nothing about me. I couldn't win, could I? Have a little faith Havoc!

"Ugh, think whatever you want Jean, it doesn't matter now…"

"No, no, you had another lead, right?" Hughes asked groggily, beginning to regain his ability to function after the long train ride and coffee withdrawal. Furrowing my brow, I nodded. But the lead wouldn't be the next target...Ed and Al would be!

If the Nina/Alexander chimera and Tucker had died last night, then this was the 'Rain of Sorrows' episode. My fingers twitched uncontrollably as I thought of the sequence of events. It had a jump to Liore where the homunculus started a bloody religious conflict, but after that I couldn't recall the next scene after Gluttony ate the priest who saw Envy change back to a palm tree from Father Cornello.

"Mac? You all up there Mac?" Jean snapped his fingers in front of my face as he said this, distracting me from my anxious thinking. I blinked a few times, feigning a startled expression.

"Sorry, did you say something?" Hughes ruffled my hair - for a moment I thought back to Gracia but quickly shook myself from the sad thought of being away from the 'normal' of this world. "Don't touch my hair Hughes." I hissed threateningly, looking to the others for an answer.

"We'll be going with the Lieutenant Colonel to the crime scene, you'll be with Havoc. We plan on meeting up here around dinner time if things go smoothly." I ran a hand through my hair, unintentionally pulling out a few white strands that I observed before tossing them onto the floor. This stress was starting to get to me.

"Oh, okay." It then occurred to me that I'd be spending the whole day with Jean Havoc - to some, that might have been a dream come true, to others, a living nightmare. For me, it was a mix between the two. Denny was looking at me as if I had just signed my own death sentence, which concerned me greatly.

"Sure you'll be okay Irish?" He asked, his bright green eyes alight with caffeinated coffee and worry. I snorted in laughter as we excused ourselves from our table and headed back to the metal deathtrap known in this time period as a 'car'.

"Whatever could go wrong will, but that's nothing new."

Masterlist