#the horror she is truly capable of under that influence. anyway. ANYWAY.

[n1ghtwarden]

what i find interesting is how minth 'regrets' or carries guilt for her hand and body being used (against her will) under the absolute. she says "i remember every face and life" or something to that extent. it is important to her that we, the player, know this. she thinks about them. they weigh on her. it's not regret in any traditional sense. minth herself says she has violent intentions - and how she was raised to respond with violence has shaped her interactions with others and the world around her. when she is violence, there is, in minth's mind, always a cause to justify it - she has been hurt, she is making a statement - or in the case of raiding (because girl has razed towns while raiding) for supplies, territory, defense et cetera. it's the regret of senseless violence, it's the regret of killing without any sort of justification for it in minth's mind other than sick bloodlust and impulse - it's the regret of losing control of her body and mind, literally, and being unable to stop it or gain control again until intervention from the prism. minth responds to hurts and slights with violence ( and she enjoys doing so )- but she wants these things to be justified, because she cannot get the satisfaction from striking without that justification. she'll never strike without what she considers to be just cause or provocation; doubly so if it falls in line with the tenants of her oath.

[ffxivaltaholic]

Prompt #1: Steer

#FFxivWrite2024

I have endured many things in my life, those experiences taught me patience, even with the most unpleasant and difficult tasks... But this was truly a test of wills... "Hello? Hey, eorzea to Jellal? Jelly-beaaaaan." The grating tone of her voice snapped him back from his thoughts, amber eyes refocusing on the blonde woman sitting in front of him. "Hm?" A look of annoyance graced the man's face and he uttered a small sigh and composed himself. "Ah yes... Anyways, now that we've gone over the basics of the machine, you mostly need practice, preferably in a large open area without things.. Or people... That could become unfortunate pilons." A deep exhale as Jellal watched his cousin with a leery expression. She'd managed to mount the motorcycle fine, even turn it on without issue, but driving and steering it was a whole other challenge, and the vehicle was set to his specifications and power. It had some kick to it. "Perhaps I should just build you a smaller vehicle, with less power and... Guns..." Among other weapons hidden among the parts of the custom magitek bike. The look he received would cause the Seeker's ears to flatten back as Vassyl, her big shiny eyes lit up like a child's stared at him with delight at the idea. "Would you really build me one?" Since they had encountered each other during the war, neither aware of remnants of their family until then, he had always been a stubborn, crass and difficult man to deal with, regardless of being family. There were times the young Miqo'te woman wanted to yeet him off the nearest cliff, but the man had mellowed a bit since the war, getting married, and shifting his career path. He was tolerable most days, and after all, still family no matter how difficult he could be. Reaching up to brush a loose strand from her face, Vassyl offered him a cheeky little grin, awaiting his answer. Initially the man would simply huff and cross his arms, seeming to think about the suggestion he had made and the possible implications it could lead to. There would need to be some considerations made. "Yes but... On the condition you are not reckless with it. Your mother would bury me alive if you were injured by my influence." Jellal had come to terms with the fact that he would never be an overtly good person, even with his efforts to redeem those many years in service to Garlemald, a conscript and slave under their rule, and a soldier who carried the blood of many on his hands, for the war machines he had built. Even so, he kept trying to be better, in not for himself but for Vassyl who despite so much loss in the war had somehow managed to keep such a positive demeanor, and for his wife Iaella, who had seen the same horrors as him from the other side and yet managed to always wake with a smile and warm his once frigid outlook on life. The looked she gave brought out an unexpected chuckle from the Seeker and he waited as Vassyl mulled over the words before her expression matched his own. "Who me? Tch! I am far more capable than you take me for! But... I will be safe. I promise." As much as the woman enjoyed teasing her cousin relentlessly, the genuine concern in his words caused her to ease up a little. "Can you put a little snack compartment on it?" The request caught him entirely off guard and the Miqo'te flicked his tail with a mix of bemusement and annoyance all in one. "A.. Snack... Compartment...?" Jellal muttered the words and reached a hand up to run through his messy hair. Finally a deep sigh would compose him. "Sure why not...."

[extrxmegxnius]

What was B like as a teenager?

{ Apologies for answering late, y'all prolly already know what I'm going through because I vent here. Anyway!! Thank you for asking!

I think B was a curious thing. Like a kid, but with greater strength, intellect, and capability. I don't think of it so much in terms of horror or even Hannibal Lecter, but I do think he would have been doing a lot of questionable, bordering on sadistic, things. But not to animals specifically. I say that not because I think he has any particular fondness for animals, but instead because animals aren't the subject of his interest. Like our favorite wayward Shinigami, I believe Beyond Birthday has an interest in human beings. He may not like them, and may even detest them, but the want to know how they operate mentally, emotionally, and physically is has a strong influence on his behavior.

Ultimately, this leads me to believe he would've been the type to play mind games, emotionally manipulate others, and physically hurt others in "new and unique ways" for all three of those categories. He may not have been able to get too far with the physical torture in Wammy's House, but it wouldn't have mattered too much to him regardless, because he had a plan to leave and experiment outside his childhood prison home anyway.

Expanding upon "new and unique ways" of torturing others... In the best way I can describe, I see him making himself close in some capacity to each new "victim" by one of those three categories - mental, emotional, or physical - and finding ways to exploit them and hurt them through those categories. Not necessarily in the same ways he found them, though. An example: Say B makes, I dunno, young Sarah his next target. She is anxious and jumpy, but he goes out of his way to make her relaxed and feel like she "has a friend, someone to truly rely on", taking advantage of her emotionally to start (so imagine a hook on "emotion"). But from there, things change. He wants to see how her type of person reacts to different forms of abuse, excluding physical - in essence, he is testing her mentally (so imagine continuing the hook from "emotion" to "mental"). I'm a little tired, but I hope that makes sense.

Essentially, what I'm saying is that you can mix up "mental", "emotional", and "physical" in any order with a beginning and end, in its simplest form. A friend emotionally, an abuser physically. A partner physically, abusive emotionally. Any combination could work, and if you wanted to dig deeper, you could mix in any number of other messed up ways of treating someone and give his behavior more than simply a beginning and end. There could be a whole chorus of things in the middle.

I'll end with this: He experimented. Big time. In every way he could get away with under Wammy's House and its... Somewhat watchful gaze.

Sorry this was long. I hope it makes sense here as it does in my head.}

[dangermousie]

CFC Chapter 54

“A crashing car?” Ahahahaha I see you, Meatbun. But it was indeed an utter pileup!

I know I commented on this passage in its various iterations eight billion times already but I still have more to say. And it’s that XQC taking so long to realize that even though HY is young, his emotions and feelings are as genuine and strong as those of anyone older is so realistic - people do tend to think that especially with regard to children - think of a reaction of an adult to a three year old crying over ice cream they dropped. It’s all amused even if not meanly so. Because to an adult with vastly more experience, this is not a big deal. But what that forgets is that whether it’s ridiculous to someone else or not, to the person at issue that is a real feeling, AND that of course a person can only feel through the lens of their experience - what else is there? Emotions aren’t any less valid because they are informed by lesser or different experience.

Honestly, to me so far this is one of the driving messages of the novel - everyone is in their own world of issues and pain and none of these characters can truly look through the lens of another person and it would be so much better if they did. To XQC, for so long, He Yu’s strong feelings (and we know so many of these feelings are awful - despair, and self-loathing, and loneliness) never quite felt real and therefore never quite felt fully valid. And by the time it wasn’t the case, it was too late.

But the same is true for He Yu - he is so concentrated on his own grievances and his own pain, he cannot perceive others’ different issues. In He Yu’s mind, he’s the winner and always champion of Misery Olympics and while he’s had a horrible time of it, that doesn’t mean other people didn’t either just in different ways. Whether because of his condition, his issues or just his age, HY is not empathetic in the least.

And think about it - XQC does not have a horrible illness. He does not have unfeeling parents. But he had to watch his beloved parents brutally murdered in front of his eyes at 13 (!!!!) and then had to raise a 5 year old by himself. Is it worse or better than HY’s trauma? That’s a matter of opinion but what there is no question about is that is a different type of trauma and a different type of scar. Or think about the patient in the asylum whose name I am too lazy to look up - her life is such a theater of horrors that to me, it makes the combined issues of HY and XQC seem small, though once again that’s subjective. Nobody wins when people start this sort of competition.

My heart breaks for XQC but also - I am sorry - if/when HY x XQC hook up again (how? I have no idea! But that is one of the joys of Meatbun - I both have no idea how/where it’s going and utterly trust her), please have He Yu read up and learn things because Good God. You should not be in major pain the morning after unless you are into pain and XQC clearly is not!

The other thing is the bit about XQC forcing himself to walk in his usual ramrod-straight manner is the moment I went utterly gone for him. I mean, I liked him and found him interesting before. But this is the thing that flipped that invisible switch for me and I went rabid and irrational and now I am Team XQC and I don’t care what he wants and does from now on, he should have it. It’s so small but so real. My mother and her mother were both big on straight posture. And one of the reasons they gave was when you walk with good posture - you look confident but also it makes you feel confident and stronger. And I’ve actually found it to be true - when you throw your shoulders back and straighten your neck and hold your head up, it does not just give others a signal, it gives a signal to your own brain. So to see XQC insist on doing it, despite being emotionally and physically shattered - because of his pride refusing to give up, because he’s so unbending, but also this being some sort of instinctive armor, just hits straight through the heart.

OK, I laughed at HY as a fucking machine. But also, this is another point in the whole “everyone has issues” narrative and HY’s life could be worse. HY, with all his other issues, can pay an insane amount, an amount that XQC could not pay in a million years, so easily. It’s not even a blip to him. Hell, the fact that he forgot to pay speaks to that - I can see forgetting to pay a friend a couple of bucks back right away because it’s not much money. HY forgets because it does not loom in his mind. And this rich lifestyle is instinctive, is ingrained in him. I think he’d find it hard to be poor.

THAT is what he’s thinking about? Priorities are...

The sole good thing that came out of this insanity is that XQC is getting in touch with his emotions, even if those emotions are (rightly) rage. He’s too closed off from them normally.

The fact that you slept with a man should be secondary to the fact that you drugged and raped him, but here we are...

To me, this sums up He Yu as a moral wasteland. To still, when sober and past his fit and not under influence of wine, to still feel excitement over his revenge and to somehow twist it that it’s XQC’s fault for being raped by He Yu is !!!!!!!!!

(I suppose if I were charitable, I’d assume that the disquiet is small stirrings of almost dead conscience and his “he deserved it” is an attempt to justify the unjustifiable to himself, but I honestly don’t want to think so because I am so angry at him. Not until I see some more evidence. I don’t feel like being indulgent with He Yu since he’s indulgent with himself enough for two.)

1. The fact that you can tell from the picture XQC got taken by a man (I am gonna defer to Meatbun’s expertise here) definitely points to the fact that the pictures are going to be used for something bad later - because if it’s just oh XQC had sex, so what, he’s single what’s the big deal. But like this it becomes a different matter. No idea if it will be used for HY or XQC or both, and by whom (money is on Duan and co, but after the way HY went off, I would never say HY himself won’t use it badly somehow) but knowing Meatbun, it will go for maximum damage.

2. Ruthless? Perhaps. Unfeeling? Hmmmm. I am not He Yu’s biggest fan atm but that’s a wonderfully misleading adjective here. He does still seem to be in shock. And fixating.

3. The whole “hahahaha XQC is a hypocrite when he was all ‘I am not interested in sex’“ is - I am not sure if HY is just short-circuiting (fine) or using a rapist justification/rolling in a sea of toxic toxicity (not fine) because I am sorry, that’s totally like “he/she had a reaction, can’t be rape” writ large. Yeah, sure he had a reaction - you poured drugs down his throat. That has nothing to do with his default preferences or his actual state. THE FUCK?!

Anyway, we end on the whole “u mad bro?” bit and you know what strikes me? HY was all “I am done, we are done, my revenge is complete I don’t care” but here he is, still desperately seeking and craving reaction and interaction from XQC.

I remain utterly puzzled as to how these two will ever be a couple except for a couple being defined as “two mutually homicidal people.” Leaving aside everything else, I am willing to accept HY is in the closet - clearly whatever his orientation is, it includes men. But I do not get that sense from XQC at all. When he’s not drugged, he’s barely interested in sex with anyone and I do not get the sense he’s in the closet either. Chances of anyone, let alone He Yu, who is both a man and someone who raped him to humiliate him, being able to entice him into sexual encounters voluntarily is about the chance of me going to visit Mars. Meatbun loves doing insane things so I can’t wait.

PS I know people use the term psychopath all the time casually but ummm, I think He Yu may actually be one? When he has his father (!!!) on speakerphone, calmly carrying a conversation with the man as he’s raping his father’s friend in the club as he talks (!!!!!) that is...in RL I’d be “team lock him up for life, there is something so basic broken in him that it can’t be fixed.” Like - the hell? The ability to put things on different shelves so much is not in the same country as sane (it makes me think of 2ha and TXJ banging CWN being the curtain while performing court business but TXJ was bona fide clinically insane and also this is worse because this is his actual freaking father omg.) Of course, only time will tell whether it’s evidence of him being irreparably incapable of normalcy in terms of living in the world/interacting with others or it was an extreme psychotic (in casual parlance not medical one) break because most people are capable of truly horrific stuff if certain levers are pushed and his default is saner. It’s the question, isn’t it? Whether He Yu’s factory default setting is the monster of the previous chapters or the kid who’d cut his wrists so as not to hurt others.

Anyway, this novel is a terrifying roller coaster ride and I love having strong emotions.

[wordynerdygurl]

Skin Deep - Part 6

Author’s Note:  Honestly, this story is nearing it’s ending.  Hard to believe that a little idea I couldn’t shake has now grown into this mini-series!  For all my die-hard homies, waiting for the next installment, I hope this is worth your while!  If you’re new here, take a look around, see if you like anything and please, let the management know if you have any questions!! As always, writing like this requires the emotional support of people and pets.  My dogs, Murphy and Winston, get me through a lot of plot bunnies just by being stalwart companions.  My husband, graciously, lets me take these flights of fancy when I probably should be paying better attention to him and his day... and some of my besties here on Tumblr make it possible for me to do this for you guys.  @sammy-jo1977​ , my sister from another mister!  Couldn’t/ Wouldn’t do it without you! To all the folks who follow me... My Minxes!  Love you all!  Stay well, be kind, and remember that Love, really does conquer all!  If you want to be a Minx, send me a note, I’ll happily add you to my tag list! Lastly, be sure to like and share anything that you see on Tumblr that catches your eye.  Creative types, we need the constant validation, you see?  Without it, like an unwatered plant, we wither on the vine and perish!  Be kind to those who help you through the day and reblog! Skin Deep Part 5 - click here for the previous chapter! Pairing:  Loki x Reader, Steve, Valkyrie & Thor all make appearances Summary:  Continued from Part 5, You and Loki put your plan into action, returning to Farmhouse.  When you encounter Steve again, you learn there’s more than two sides to this story. Warnings:  Loki’s POV and perspective, including mentions of his time under Thanos.  I’m re-writing MCU history here, but some of the main beats are the same, so look out for SPOILERS for Dark World, Ragnarok, and a touch of Infinity War.  The SNAP never happened because, reasons.  

Empathy used to seem such a human emotion.  Loki had no time for that on Asgard, not when Odin denied anything as frivolous as feeling.  Hiding in plain sight was the means to survival and if that made the young prince sneaky and sly, so be it.  By placing those parts of himself under lock and key; the parts that hurt, the ones that ached, Loki found it was safer to disconnect from others than subject himself to their suffering too.

Operating under the influence of Thanos and his minions when he held the scepter, Loki had purposefully divorced connection of any kind from his mind.  It was dangerous.  Weak.  And moreover, it allowed Loki to do what Thanos commanded without really experiencing the horror, the havoc, of his actions for himself. 

  Who could hear the screams of women when the voice of Ebony Maw subliminally chanted all the ways that one could be dismembered at Thanos’ hands should Loki fail?  What man would shed a tear after the near constant beatings doled out by Black Order members, just for the fun of it?  How could someone care about a house, a car, a city, when they no longer cared about themself? Losing the Battle for New York had consequences far beyond the destruction of property.  With Thanos’ hold over him vanquished, the walls around his heart, constructed in youth, crashed and burned like the dream of ruling Earth.  Suddenly and completely out of reserves, Loki was powerless.  And he felt everything.  The fresh hurts caused by his manipulated ambitions in the hands of Thanos. The furious feelings of his brother, the inadequacies of his character, the feeble needs that drove his wild ambition washed over him unceasingly.  Anger.  Loss.  Lunacy.  Loki learned a hard truth in that moment.  He was a monster.  A freak.  A creature beyond hope and salvation; proving his adoptive father right and his own hopeful heart wrong.  Bitterness soured the fallen prince. Endless hours in isolation on Earth, which continued in his father's house, had Loki believing he had no chance of seeing the world outside again, and it hardened his heart further.  To feel was so painful, so raw, and so humane.  Why bother anyway?  All that emoting, those high spirits, all they really did was expose you to derision.  What was grief to a goblin?  What was horror to a monster?  What was love to a villain like him?  An evil, conspiring demi-god, with a mind bent toward domination.  A damaged, destroyed, deity alone and in pieces.  Who would ever give someone like Loki Odinson a chance?  Why should they?

Turning to his mother, Loki did everything but ask for forgiveness.  In long rambling talks, her projection to his jailed person, the pair talked around ideas of guilt and innocence, of fate and fortune, of destiny versus desire, yet Loki never heard the words he needed in order to truly find peace.   

If Frigga was aware of her son’s need for absolution, Loki would never know, as their last exchange was harsh and full of anger.  Another stroke of loss, crippling now, because there was nothing Loki could do to change any of it from inside his prison cell.  No illusion could conceal the painful ache that consumed him entirely. 

Those days were dark, even for a soul as dusky hued as his own, and Loki’s thoughts followed a similar path.  If there had been a way for him to shake off this immortal coil, free himself of the burden of living, Loki would have done so and been glad.  Death was welcome compared to all this longing and heartache. But life, even a nearly immortal one, was funny. 

When Thor provided a chance at redemption, Loki snatched at it, in his own detached way.  He played hero, rescuing Jane, aiding his brother.  And if he took a bit more in the form of deposing his arrogant, aging father, who would be surprised?  He was Loki, God of Mischief, after all. Ruling the Nine Realms without the oppressive oversight of his father allowed Loki to prove himself in ways he never imagined.  And Loki wasn’t just good at it.  He was great. Of course, it helped that no one knew he was Loki.  Living disguised as Odin was often unpleasant, frequently frustrating, but entirely necessary.  Being Loki was still too difficult and likely to bring unwanted attention in the form of The God of Thunder, a thing that no one truly wanted, Loki least of all. Return Thor did, along with an unknown sister and the end of Asgard.  When confronted with the insanity of Hela’s bloodlust, Loki’s only thought was of his kingdom, now without a ruler.  He had worked too hard, too long, to see the land he cared for in the hands of an enemy, even if she called herself sister.  Opening the Bi-Frost, panicked, his mind was solely on saving those he had recently held dominion over.  They were his people, after all.  But he never reached Asgard. Swallowing his fear, Loki focused all his energy on staying alive in a new and distracting environment, initially.  What Loki found on Sakaar wasn't a new home base under a flamboyant, ineffective leader that he could control, even if that was his first design.  On Sakaar Loki found his loyalty.  

The proud, deep resonance of being Asgardian, of being an Odinson, of being capable and cool under pressure.  Sure, he had to prove himself to Thor, Valkyrie, Banner and honestly, the rest of the kingdom, but actions speak louder than words.  And through his actions on Sakkar, and by extension rescuing the people of Asgard, Loki had shown everybody his true mettle. It was on the deck of a stolen ship headed for Midgard that  Loki had made a commitment of sorts.  One that was not to the people, so recently saved or for his found family.  This time, the promise Loki intended to keep was for himself.  Loki was going to change. The problem is, a task like that takes time.  Patience.  Motivation.  It was something that Loki had to work at and it was exhausting. They say that the best things come to those who wait.  Loki was learning to wait everyday.  Having earned a place at the side of his brother, he worked tirelessly to win over the heroes of his new home planet.  Was it easy?  Hardly, but Loki wasn’t willing to compromise.  Not anymore. A life like Hela’s was not in his runes.  Loki was simply going to be better.  Not perfect.  No one could be as good hearted as Captain America, nor could one be as tech savvy as Stark.  So Loki was planning on being the best Loki he could possibly be, and that’s how he found himself going to meetings at The Avengers Tower, a mostly welcome addition to the team. Meetings weren’t all that exciting and boredom was an awful temptation for a deity devoted to mayhem.  In fact, Loki spent more time doodling in his notebook than listening to whoever was droning on about whatever part of the world needed the attention of this motley crew.  That was, until Pepper Potts hired her new assistant.  That you were polite, pretty and pert wasn’t lost on the young god.  Sitting outside Mrs. Iron Man’s office, typing away with a phone tucked under your ear, moving faster than anyone he had ever seen was certainly impressive.  You were quick witted, clever and most of all, funny. Everyone else seemed to fall under your spell without much effort on your part, something that Loki found frustratingly fascinating.  Here he was, struggling to get people to say his name without having a traumatic flashback, while you simply smiled and smarted off prettily, and had everyone singing your praises.  But Norns, were you adorable. If he thought about it, and while off planet, Loki definitely had, he could remember the moment he realized that you were the woman he wanted.  You were busy, as always, fielding phone calls and flipping through screens yet every moment your flying fingers weren’t hovering over a keyboard or pushing down telephone buttons they curled around a heart shaped charm at your throat.  Clearly, it was a habit and one that you weren’t even aware of, still - it transfixed him all the same.  Watching you from his side eye, your voice never wavering, your tone always so pleasing, and your nimble digits returning again and again to the small sigil around your neck.  “Loki?” “Huh?”  Dumbfounded at your call, those deep sea eyes blinked wildly at the sound of his name on your lips. “Hi!  Yes, Pepper can see you now.  Go ahead, she’s ready!” He rose on stiff legs, adjusting his tie, about to lie to Tony Stark’s woman all for the chance to see you in passing.  Who had he become? It started out innocent like that, but soon, Loki was having to invent excuses for being in the office so frequently.  Missing files, random visits, even going so far as to buy Tony coffee just for the thrill of seeing you.  Something needed to change, and quickly, or Loki was going to blow. On another made up errand, hanging around the executive’s high rise office, Loki was doing a bad job of pretending not to see you.  His mind was on your pouty lips as you sipped lemonade through a straw and not on the stately woman seated behind the desk. 

“Loki, you’re a man of some… style.”  Pepper said it so casually that he almost didn’t hear, his head lost in thoughts that would shame any other person. “I like to think so.”

Shutting her folder with a snap, Pepper smiled, “And you’d love to help your old friend Pepper out, right?” That got his attention, and quickly.  Loki, shoving his hands in his pockets, turned to face Pepper with a widening grin, “I feel like I’m being baited.”

“Baited?  Never!  It’s just, you’re always here and I have a… project that needs the kind of help that you can provide.”  At those words you entered the office, ready for action with a notebook and pen, eager and excited. Suddenly, it was all clear to Loki, “Pepper, no.”  

The noose closed in on the handsome god as Pepper gathered paperwork without looking his way, “Come on, it’s the Stark Homecoming Gala and the two of you will do great!  I have faith in you both.  I can’t wait to see what you come up with!” “Really, Miss Potts, I simply can’t-” Stopping short, the strawberry blonde whipped around, almost nose to nose with Loki.  Shrewd and straightforward, Pepper interrupted, saying, “You’ve been dancing around my office for weeks now.  Clearly you like her and… against all the odds, she likes you too.  I’m doing you a favor and when someone does you a favor, you say “Thank You”.” “Thank you.” Nodding curtly, “You’re welcome.  Now, make yourselves comfortable, order some dinner, my treat.  And do whatever you need to make sure this is one great party!” That’s how Loki found himself sitting at a clear glass table over sweating bottles of iced tea as you discussed color themes and tablecloths.  You were shy, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you reviewed notes from previous gatherings both large and small.  His hands itched with wanting to do that job himself. “So, what do you think?”  It was the first time you had addressed him directly since coming through the door and for a moment Loki couldn’t answer.  You were too… not beautiful, that wasn’t the right word, although you were.  No, you were too open, too easy to read, and the earnestness you offered him was downright frightening. Sitting forward in the uncomfortable, yet fashionable, office furniture, Loki cleared his throat and again tugged his tie, “What I think is that you should let me take you dinner.” Dropping your eyes, your cheeks colored slightly as your fingers found that locket charm once more, “Loki, I… I don’t know-” Grabbing for your hand, suddenly afraid that you would take those shining eyes away, Loki lowered his voice and did something he never thought he would.  He begged.  “Please?  I find that you’re all I can think about.” It rushed out of him in a torrent, the way truth so often does, and he found himself unable to look you in the eye.  Loki was afraid to see rejection on your easy to read face, afraid that wanting you had cracked open the lock box holding his heart, afraid that you would see just how weak you made him.  Your fingers twined with his own as you replied, “You didn’t let me finish.  I don’t know what took you so long.” Sighing with relief, his face melting into a genuine smile, “Me either.” Over the next two months the pair of you worked tirelessly to plan and execute a perfect party.  You were inseparable during the day, heads buried together as you discussed linens and table settings, the quality of cocktail glasses, and debating over a band or a dj.  But at night, at night Loki talked about the things that haunted him in the dark.  And you loved him in spite of the awful things he had seen and done and said. Others took notice.  Loki was more lighthearted, more available.  He listened when people spoke and wasn’t constantly doodling during meetings.   Yes, Loki was learning how to love through your loving him.  If empathy had seemed too humane before, then sharing his life, his love with you, was the kind of immortality that earned someone a place in Valhalla.  It was the bravest thing Loki Odinson had ever done and he didn’t mind one bit.

The first time Loki tasted you was burned into his brain, as bright as a flash of lightning.  A firefly in a memory jar that he kept returning to, time and again.  Loki remembered what you were wearing.  He recalled exactly how the light shone in your eyes.  If he concentrated, he could tap out the rhythm of your racing pulse as he held you in his arms. It was the night of the gala.  Inviting everyone under the Stark Industries banner, up to and including the heroes tasked with saving the world, the event was a way to earn money for one of the many charities Tony supported.  The place was full of beautiful people wearing gorgeous clothes under perfect lights set to the hand crafted soundtrack you had created together.

But, Norns, he could still remember the way your eyes sparkled under the lowlights of that hall.  How your dress, simple but sophisticated, clung to the fullness of your bottom.  Low cut but somehow still modest, Loki couldn’t tear his gaze away from the promise of your curves, willing himself to find anything else as interesting as the idea of you.  

You were across the room hanging onto Tony’s every word, eyes bright and cheerfully glowing as you sipped champagne.  It made Loki want to do something grand, something suave, something that would demand your attention for his own.  Moving towards you, his tuxedo perfectly pressed and fitting better than it had any right to, Loki looked long and lean.  Each of his steps seemed to echo, even though the room was full of sound, and you turned your head as if you also heard.  Breaking away from the cluster of acolytes surrounding Iron Man, you bit into your lip as the crowd parted, moving closer together one step at a time.  It was one of the sexiest things Loki had ever witnessed. Lifting your glass in a toast, taking in the room of mingling millionaires, wealthy hangers on and Avengers, “Well, we did it!” “You did it, my dove, I just hung around and judged everyone.” “Oh stop.  I couldn’t have done it without you and you know it.”  Playfully you pushed against his shoulder and Loki took advantage, using your momentum to pull you to his side, your curvy figure flush against his own. Crooning into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing over that sensitive skin, “Somehow, love, I think you would have managed.”  Before you had time to think, Loki had melded his mouth with your own, stealing your breath along with your heart.  Loki’s feet moved in time with the music as he pulled into a dance, laughing in his arms, your cheeks hot and your head swimming. You laughing was, without question, Loki’s favorite sound.  Nothing in this world or any other came close to matching the joyful, childlike glee of that enchanting noise.  Loki memorized its melody, the rise and fall of your giggle.  He had craved it, being away for so long, and now he wanted… no, needed to hear it.  But you were the furthest thing from happy at the moment.   

"Darling, please.  We have to go."  Loki tapped his watch, shaking himself free from the memories of your previous life together and barely suppressing his irritation.

Tears filled your eyes as you whipped your arms around Thor’s mighty shoulders, his deep voice grumbly with emotion, "Take care of him, would you?  He's a jerk, but Loki is the only brother I have."

"Of course… always.  And Valkyrie, your highness, I can’t thank you enough for-"

"No need.  Loki, and by extension yourself, will always have a safe haven here in my palace."

Looking on, Loki and Thor embraced almost tenderly before crashing their heads together.  

"Stay safe, little brother."

"Be good, Thor."

Eyes on the sky, Val ignored the show of masculine emotion, chastising your plan, "You’re going to start a war, Loki."

Straight backed, Loki turned to the king, "Not on the grass of New Asgard.  I will take the fight to them, that is my vow to you."

As Loki offered his hand, Valkyrie shook it, with parting words, "Work on staying alive.  You have a tendency to worry your brother."

Solemnly nodding, "As the king commands.  Shall we?"  With that Loki laced his fingers with yours, leading you a few paces away from the people who loved him most, before summoning the magic that had you both transcending space and time.

This time when your feet touched down it was on the familiar turf of the orchard, surrounded by the scent of apple blossoms and the buzzing of happy bees.  Morning had broken and the world seemed full of promise, with the exception of that knot in your stomach.

"Are you ready?  Darling?"

"Oh… yes.  I mean, I still don't love this plan, but-"

"But it's going to work."  Only it was no longer the baritone voice of your long, lean Loki speaking.  In his place stood Nick Fury, leather duster and eye patch in place.

"If you say so!"  And you clutched your own throat as Natasha’s bored tones came out of your mouth.  The suit, skin tight but flexible, molded to your modified form.  All in all, you were comfortable, "The boots are a bit much."

"Ya think?  This jacket weighs a ton."  Pulling at his collar, "Why does he wear a turtleneck anyway?"

"Loki, this is so weird.  It feels so weird."

"Agreed, but then, why am I so turned on?"

Laughing, you shook your false red hair, hands resting on Natasha’s waist, "God, I've missed you."

"Same, dearest.  Now… let's get your necklace and some answers!"

---

 Convincing Bucky to head home had taken a lot of work, but sometime around 2 am Steve had finally seen his friend off.  The house was empty.  Steve felt the same way.

Turning the black velvet box in his pocket, fingers crushed against the fragile fabric, Steve struggled to feel anger.  When that didn't materialize he shot for sadness but even tears seemed beyond his ability.  

With a sigh, climbing the same stairs he had trudged up a hundred times before, Steve started going through the motions of bedtime.  Only tonight you weren’t there to tease him about the wildly inappropriate amount of toothpaste on his brush.  He didn’t have your light footsteps to follow to the bedside or your help with stacking all of your extra, yet entirely essential, pillows on the chair.

Someone must have changed the sheets, he thought.  There was no evidence of you and Loki’s adventurous afternoon anymore.  Steve made a mental note to thank Buck for that little piece of kindness in the morning.

Shucking his shirt, Steve sat on the mattress, a hand to his forehead.  He had lost.  Captain America had been bested.  Beaten.  And by Loki, no less.

Moonlight in silver slivers shone through the window panes, squares of light in the deep of night.  Steve was alone.  Utterly and totally alone.

And there was no one to blame but himself.

Sighing hard, Steve stood, pacing the floor to work off some of the unspendable anxiety he kept creating.  The room still had your energy, your vibe, as you liked to call it, and the feeling was a prickling itch Steve couldn’t quite satisfy.  Traces of you were everywhere and something about you leaving all of it, and him, behind was just too big to process. “Damn it.”  Even whispering sounded like thunder in the silence of your recently vacated room.  His hands, so big, so strong, smoothed along the fabric of your hanging clothes.  All that power had done nothing to help Steve get the thing he wanted. Sorting through the baubles and trinkets on your dresser, bottles of perfume he had purchased, necklaces and pins, each with a moment of memory it hurt him to recall.  Your watch ticked away the minutes as he stood, stoic and still, surrounded by the shadow of you.  In the orchard the birds were waking, their song filling the air, as morning broke in low golden rays.  Abandoning his plan for sleep, Steve watched as the light chased away the dark, casting rainbows on the floor.  The sun was reflecting off of your Grandmother’s necklace.  A pretty, ancient, carved cameo,  heart shaped locket.  He recalled his own mother owning one just like it, pictures of loved ones pressed inside, holding them as tight as history would allow. Fisting the filigree chain, winding it around his fingers as if it would somehow undo what he had done, Steve slipped it into his pocket before settling back onto the bed.  ----

At the back door to the home you so recently shared with Steve, Loki hung back, “I think this is where we split up.  You go find your treasure and me… I’m going to find some answers.” Nodding, Natasha’s signature red hair swinging, you squeezed the hand holding your own.  It no longer looked like Loki’s long fingered paw, but that was only a skin deep change.  You felt the undeniable essence of him in the press of his fingers against your own. “Be careful.” “That’s no fun, dove.” “Loki-”  You hated the way your voice broke as you said it, but there just seemed to be so much at stake and you had already lost him once. Sensing your unspoken concerns, Loki flashed you Nick Fury’s best smile, “I will.  I promise.”

“Ten minutes.” “Ten minutes.”  You watched the black coated back of your charmed paramour as he opened the shed door, hoping that he’d find something worth knowing in that place out of sight.  Inhaling deeply you twisted the doorknob as quietly as possible, letting yourself into what was once your kitchen, “What a mess.”  It was impossible not to notice the unwrapped leftovers and empty bottles littering the table.  An overturned trash barrel, crumpled beer cans littering the counter, things that Steve, your Steve, would never have tolerated.  All evidence that the grand evening he’d envisioned had been thwarted by Loki’s arrival and your collective escape.  

You started up the stairs, praising Natasha's footwear for its stealth, when you heard the toilet flush and the unmistakable shuffle of Steve’s feet on the carpet.  There was no place to hide on the wide stairwell.  It was time to see if Loki's plan was going to work.

Voice blurry, eyes rubbed red and raw, you couldn't deny that Steve looked like shit, “Bucky?  That you?  You back?”  Steve’s voice bounced around the brightening room as morning sunlight filtered through the soft sheers you had picked out for exactly this reason. Panicked, you backed into the railing with an over loud “Oof!” “Nat?  What are you doing here?  I thought you and Fury were headed to New Asgard?”  Suddenly wide awake and wondering, Steve rushed to your costumed side, eager for information. The man in front of you now bore little resemblance to the angry Avenger you had escaped from hours before.  This man had hair sticking up in odd angles from near constant finger raking.  This man had a hint of a stuffy nose and red rimmed eyes, all indicators that tears had been shed.  Now those blue eyes were scrutinizing you closely, full of concern.

“Uh… We... We got intel.  Yea, intelligence, that Loki was headed back this way.  Turned around… and uh, here we are.” One of those sandy blonde eyebrows lifted, “Natasha?”

Squaring your shoulders, channeling that cool confidence you’d see Black Widow display over and over, “Steve?”  Something about your tone of voice convinced him in a way your words couldn’t.  He visibly relaxed, those broad shoulders going slack as he asked, “Didn’t make it to Norway, then?"

Nodding a negative, you felt the unfamiliar brush of her red hair at your cheek and had to fight the urge to tuck it away, “No.  Loki’s using some sort of transporting power to move them around.  Fury suggested I keep an eye out here, in case they come back this way.” “She won’t be back, Nat.  There’s nothing for her here.”  To you, Steve sounded so sad, so removed, that you had to will yourself not to comfort the giant before you.  “That’s not true!”  It came out of you forcefully, thoughtlessly, and you saw the shock register on the Captain’s face. “That is, Fury and I… we… have reason to believe that she will come back.  They left with nothing, Steve.  She’ll need clothes… maybe some shoes… and-”  Swallowing hard, you didn’t want to give anything away, “-a necklace from her grandmother.” Steve, patting his pocket, felt the weighted chain and it’s heart shaped locket, “I don’t think-” Stepping up to his bulky form, suddenly aggressive, you started, “Never mind what you think, Captain.  We're here for a necklace...  the necklace.  Our intel suggests that your former flame might return for it and… And, I want it, with me, as a means to subdue her when she arrives." Sounding forceful and official was enough to back Steve down.  Just a touch deflated, you watched him shrug, “If that’s what you want, Nat, here-”  From his pants he pulled out the shining bauble, a trinket really, but full of sentiment and memory. Sitting in his palm, the tiny heart that held the picture of your grandmother and mother looked so small, almost unreal.  Reaching for it with wet eyes, you smiled at Steve as you lifted the charm and chain, “Thank you, Steve.  Thank you.” Nodding deeply, that golden head bobbing, “You’re welcome.”  The large grandfather clock could be heard ticking throughout the house.  The sun was gaining on the day and you, dressed as Natasha stood in silence in front of a somber Steve.  For another long beat nothing was said, then, as if sensing a shift in your conversation, Steve flashed your fake Natasha a weak smile, “I could use some breakfast.  How about you?”

“Um… sure.  Yea, ok.  Breakfast.” 

Steve started moving again, downstairs towards the cluttered kitchen when he paused, "So how did you get back so fast?  Cause that's like a 7 hour flight, even with you in the cockpit." “Steve…”  You could hear it, the whining almost pleading tone that signaled the end of Loki’s well planned charade.  That wasn’t enough to stop Steve.  He broke hard, one of those strong arms stopping you in your tracks before you could reach the lower level. “It’s clever, I have to give you guys that.  Almost perfect, really.” Panic rising, you doubled down on the ruse, struggling to keep your voice even, “I don’t know-”  Blocking you in, his body the perfect unmovable buffer, “Loki’s here too, isn’t he?” Pushing against “Steve, I… I don’t…” “Don’t lie.  You don’t have to…” “But… how-?” “You’re not mean enough to play Natasha, doll.  Not by a long shot.”

--- It was strange to be seated at the table and chairs that you and Steve had picked out together one sunny Saturday when you thought that your future was going to be Loki-less.  Your place, the one that you had imagined filling with children that had golden hair and bright blue eyes, felt like a set.  Something false and fake.  A facade, put together simply for show. Steve must have felt it too because his fingers drummed against the white washed table incessantly.  Clearly he had something on his mind.  “Steve-” “No.  No.  Please, let me just get this out, ok?” Raising an eyebrow, you waved at him to continue, nervous but interested in what the super soldier needed to explain. With a shaky inhale, running his constantly moving fingers through his golden locks, Steve caught your eye and didn’t waiver.  “When I saw you… No, that’s not right.  Let me start at the beginning. “When Loki left Earth, you… you were so sad.  It hurt me to see you so… deflated.” “Steve, I-” “You know it’s true.  When he returned to Asgard, something in you, it dimmed, and I just couldn’t allow that… Not when I felt the way I did about you. “I don��t think you realize just how incredible you are… how full of life!  And since I had already missed one chance to be with you, I knew I needed to prove that I could be the man you needed… If you forgot about Loki along the way, even better. “Only… you never did.  I waited years for you, ya know, doll?  Years.  And just when I thought there was no chance with you, Nat gave me a reason to hope. “She was your friend.  An ally.  Someone you could trust… someone I could trust.  I swear it started out that innocently, at least for me.  I just wanted to make you smile again.  But she had other plans.  Plans that came from higher up the ladder of SHIELD. “Fury, he wanted us to watch you… something about Loki being too powerful.  And-”, grabbing your hand tightly, Steve emphasized his point, “-I promise you that I had no idea about his success, or the messages he had sent to you through Nick.  Like you, I thought that Loki was gone.  Missing.  Never coming back.” “I… I believe you Steve.  I know that you didn’t do all this on your own… but what was Nick hoping you’d find out?  I knew less than nothing about what was going on!” “I think he was worried that Loki would get to you first.  That if… when Loki returned, you would be his first stop.  Then you would know about Loki’s success and, frankly, Fury’s failures.  You would also know… well, everything you know now.  That Fury had you tailed, lied to, and led on in an effort to stop Loki from out flanking him.” Frenzied and frantic, you felt anger boiling up inside of you, “But I thought Loki was gone forever.  There was no hope for him and I… and Natasha, she told me that he was dead.” “All a part of Fury’s plan to keep you neutralized and Loki away.  If Loki thought that you’d ignored his letters, that you no longer loved him, why would he come back here?  And, if that didn’t work… when Loki came back and you were with me, what else could keep him on Earth?”

Whispering with realization, “So, they used you too.” Steve sighed and buried his hands in the pockets of his sweatshirt, “Don’t feel bad for me.  I let them use my love for you, let them twist it up and shape it as they needed.  Honestly, I wish I could tell you that it was for you, but it wasn’t.  It was for me.  I wanted you, so, so badly.  I didn’t care what strings were attached.  And we built a life together, you and me.  I thought I could outrun the reality of the constant monitoring and daily reports.  Telling Natasha and Nick about every word and each email.  Don’t you see, I love you… and I wanted you, however I could get you.” Shaking your head, Natasha’s red wisps flying, “That’s not love, Steve.  I don’t know what that is… but love isn’t it.” “No?”  With a loud thunk, Steve slammed a small velvet box on the table between you. “Is… Is that what I think it is?”

“Last night.  It was going to happen last night.  Our friends here, under the lights and the stars, I was going to ask you to marry me.  I still would if-” Realization hit you like a ton of bricks, “If Loki hadn’t stepped back into our lives.” “-If Loki hadn’t stepped back into your life.” It made you both laugh in a sad way, how you finished the same thought, and for a fleeting second you could see why you had allowed Captain America to sweep you off your feet.  He was a lot of things to you now, but there was a time when he had been almost everything.  The evidence of that was in the small black square that said nothing but spoke volumes. “Steve, I don’t know if I would have said yes… even without Loki’s… arrival.  I think I have always known that you and I… we are very different people.” Sitting back in his chair, his gaze still locked on your own, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about what I’ve done… what I’ve said… How, shit, how I’ve behaved.  I could say that it was my duty.  I could tell you it was out of love, but the plain truth is that I have always been jealous of what you and Loki share.” “You’ll find it Steve.  You really will.  There’s a person out there waiting for you.  And once you’ve found them, oh Steve, you’ll see that this… what we had, it’s a shadow.  An illusion.  Because love, real love, doesn’t come with caveats and catches.  It is an undeniable force which, in my case, even the boundaries of time and space can not deny.” Something like a sob burst out of Steve, and you were surprised to see tears in his eyes, “I was so wrong.  Could you ever forgive me?” “I want to, Steve.  I really do... “  What more could you say?  Patting his hand you started to rise, “I have to go now.  Loki and I need to keep moving and I don’t want to risk running into Nick and Natasha.  At least, not yet, anyway.” “Where are you planning to go?” “To the Avenger’s Tower.  I believe I know what Mr. Fury has been planning all along.”  Loki’s strong voice entered the conversation as smoothly as his arms wrapped possessively around your waist. Steve took in the protective stance of your returned lover with a raised eyebrow, and without further comment asked Loki, “Really?  And how are you going to breach the building?  They’ll be looking for you, even with disguises…  Fury is no fool.  Plus, there’s little chance that Tony hasn’t activated a million safety and security protocols by now.” Only interested in you, Loki refused to give Steve any of his attention, “Getting in can’t be that hard!  I’ll figure it out when I get there.  Ready pet?” With a gentle push under his broad hands your feet started to move towards the door.  Loki was eager to be off and away, especially after hearing so much of Roger’s confession.  Just knowing what Steve had done, manipulating you while also convinced of his love for you;  it was enough for Loki to commit murder.  He was having quite a difficult time not tearing the good Captain’s limbs off his body. Softening his tone, Steve practically pleaded, “Loki.  Wait.  I… I can help.” Turning his attention fully to your former flame, Loki purred venomously, “You can help?  I’d love to know what entails, Captain.” “I can get you into the place and take you exactly where you need to go.  Fury’s going to hate it, but I’m tired of taking orders that hurt the people that-”  His pause was as lingering as the look he gave you, “- That I love.”  Before Loki could offer a sincerely sassy reply you grabbed his sleeve, tugging, “Um… Excuse us a minute Steve.” Pulling him down the hall of a home that felt like a familiar faced stranger, you waited until you had a bit of distance from Steve before harshly whispering, “How long were you listening?”

Serving you that small, sexy smile, Loki grinned, “Long enough.  How did you know I was there?” “You are sneaky, but even you, God of Mischief, cast a shadow.” Swinging you close enough to catch your mouth with his own, Loki pressed a sweet kiss there before answering, “A mistake I will be careful not to make again!” “The tower, huh?  That’s where you want to go?”  Grabbing you at the swell of your hips, grinding his frame against your own, “Where I want to go, my darling, is to the nearest bed, preferably naked, with you and you alone.” Your hands traced over the lapels of his borrowed leather duster, pausing only to jerk him closer by the supple fabric, “Hmm… is that so?” “Oh yes…”  Loki’s buttery grumble filled your ear as his strong hands dug into the flesh of your bottom.  For a moment you thought he’d give in to temptation, his sweet lips teasingly close to your own upturned mouth, “But-” On your toes, leaning into Loki’s sturdy, leather draped frame, you paused, “Ugh.  But?” Moving you to a safer, less kissable, arms length away, Loki sighed with the same frustration you felt, “-But, where we need to go, as soon as possible, is the Tower.” Moaning grumpily, you stepped out of the arms you longed to linger in, “I was afraid you were going to say that.” “I know it’s less than… ideal, love, but I did find something useful before the good Captain unburdened his soul this morning.” “And that is?” “Fury’s plan.  At first I couldn’t figure out exactly what he was after.  What did Fury want?  How was I involved?” Loki was dragging this out, loving how it kept you hanging onto his every word, and you rolled your eyes, “Well?  What is it?  Weapons?  War?” “All of that, yes… and… yours truly.”  That triumphant smile that filled Loki’s whole face lit up his mischievous eyes.  Tilting your head, struggling to make sense of what Loki had just told you, “What do you mean, you.  Fury wanted you… to do what, exactly?’ “Loki was going to be the patsy.” You both turned toward the sound of Steve’s baritone at the door, suddenly remembering that the Good Captain was still there and that he was waiting to see what you were going to do next.  Leaning his 100 year old bones into the doorframe, Steve crossed his arms, “The fall guy.  An example of what happens if you cross SHIELD.” “I think, my dear Mr. Rogers, that you mean, I am to be used as an example of what happens if one crosses Nick Fury.”  Loki countered, slinging an arm over your shoulder protectively. The idea was frightening.  A man like Fury had too much power, too much at his disposal.  Just knowing the lengths he had gone to in order to keep you and Loki apart was scary enough.  Making enemies of your friends.  Threatening the people you loved.  Selling your affection to Steve in an effort to control Loki.

Now, the knowledge that all of it was done in an effort to ensure that Nick Fury was the toughest guy in the galaxy, it made your stomach clench.  “What do you mean, an example?” “Unless my intelligence is flawed, I believe that Fury was going to kill me.  Is that correct, Captain?” Steve felt the weight of two sets of eyes on him.  Yours, full of fearful love and blind hope that this was all just some misunderstanding.  Innocent and naive and as lovely as he could ever remember.  Loki’s were reflecting a deeper understanding.  The kind of knowledge that only time in the trenches teaches. There was no answer from Captain Rogers.  None was needed.  Honesty, final and resolute, was out in the open.  “Look.  I know I’m not the guy you want on your side.  I’ve… I haven’t been the man I needed to be.  Not for you-”  Steve locked his bright blues onto you, offering a small smile that spoke of sadness before facing Loki, “-Or you, Loki.  But if you let me help you now, I promise that I can get you into the tower and maybe, one day, you won’t think so little of me.” 

Around you the morning gained strength.  Somewhere nearby birds chirped wildly, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the modest little farmhouse and its implications on intergalactic politics.  Without  moving a muscle, Loki plainly asked you, “Do you trust him, dearest?” Squaring your shoulders, you crossed your arms, staring down the man called Captain America.  Nodding decisively, “I do.  I don’t think he’d spill everything like that only to turn on us.  He’s not so bad Loki, really.” “We’ll see about that.  For now, we trust Steve.  Ok, what’s your plan, Rogers?” --- “Hey.  I… I have one other thing to show you.”  Steve was dressed for action in his branded tactical gear, looking every inch the super soldier that Dr. Erskine envisioned. “Steve, we have to get moving.  Loki’s eager and -” “Just open it, ok?”  The envelope was thick with folded paper, the flap tucked under and not sealed.  Clearly it had spent time in and out of pockets, the edges frayed and tattered.  In exasperated curiosity you gingerly pulled the sheets free.

Shaking, your hands trembled holding the once white documents as your voice thickened, “Is this… is this what I think it is?” Cocking his head playfully, that rueful smile pulling at his full mouth, Steve almost seemed cheerful as he teased, “It’s yours.  I think something about this place has always been yours and I want you to have it.” “But-” Folding your small hands in his mighty ones, Steve squeezed gently, “It was a wedding present, or it was supposed to be.” “But we’re not getting married.” “I know.  Still-” “I can’t, Steve.  It’s yours.  Your house, your farm, your dream.” Shaking his head, disagreeing, but feeling lighter than he had in decades, Steve insisted, “Too late, I’m afraid.  It’s done.  Actually, that version of the deed has been signed since our second week here.” As realization sunk in you appraised the man changing right before your eyes, astonished but exhilarated, “Where will you go?” “I dunno.  Think I might need to be alone for a bit.  Maybe see the world… but first-” “First, we have to stop Nick Fury.”

To Be Continued... My Minxes:   @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity​ @mizfit2​ @sammy-jo1977​ @wolfsmom1​ @jessiejunebug​ @iluvsumbucky​ @unadulteratedwizardlove​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @ahintofkiwistrawberry​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @crystalizedcaramel​ @lokislittlecorner​ @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81​ @caffiend-queen​ @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​ @jenjen8675309​ @that-one-person​ @roguewraith​ @toomanystoriessolittletime​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @just-random-obsessions​ @brokenthelovely​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​

[eriversible]

“Last breath” hit me with that pain

[ Send me “Last breath” for my muse’s last words to yours as they lay dying in their arms. ] // prepare yourselves 'cause this one's gon' be a long one my dudes

     When Aya saw that the white-haired commander of the Paranormal Liberation Front was unleashing noumus near Deku’s and the place he’s interning at, she didn't waste a single second before she went barreling out of the teacher's dormitory. She didn't listen to All Might calling after her, instead shifting into her noumu form to run off to the battlefield at frightening speeds. He's there. Even though it was being shown through live broadcast, she knew exactly who was really there: Papa.

       It was Papa. He’s somehow using Master's body like a vessel. Being aware of his presence practically flooded her body with j o y. Oh, how she'd love to hear him address her again. It'd been so long since she's ever heard his voice, she wanted to see him so badly again... But that feeling also brought a terrible pang of guilt and shame through her throat and guts at the same time. Even though she retrieved all her lost memories, her body was still reacting so joyously for her 'savior'... No, she should be full of fear for all the heroes over there, especially Deku. She knew both Master and Papa's capabilities, knew that not even the young hero could stop him. He'll die by Papa's hands. He might even die before Papa could reach him thanks to the other high-ends. All the heroes are gonna die... They'll die. They’ll all die...

               --Not on her watch.

    It was right before any high-ends specifically targeting Deku could lunge for him when a massive figure crashed in-between to leave a sizable crater on impact. Familiar black tendrils were wildly flaring out like a shield for her dear hero as the cloud of dust began to settle. That sheer amount of malice emanating from her tiny, little frame was enough to temporarily stun the noumus where they stood. This was Doctor's greatest creation, after all. Not even the combined powers of all the high-ends present could overwhelm her once she's like this.

            "NOBODY. HURT. DEKU."

    Deku was calling her name. He probably wanted to ask what she's doing here and why, then maybe tell her to go back before she could get hurt... But before he could even finish his sentence, one of her tendrils had suddenly shot out backwards to pick him up and pull him away from the sudden onslaught of attacks. They’re there to obey Papa and not her, after all. Even so, she easily blocked and evaded the barrage, all while having that one tendril gently place the young hero down on safer, solid grounds away from harm. Handling noumus was cakewalk for her. She had the powers to fight and win, so she'll use it for just that.      She'll use it for good. For Deku. Especially Deku.

    There was no need to worry about her getting hurt. Even if one did manage to land a hit, Aya had the power to quickly revert herself back to optimal conditions. Her strength, her power, her unquestionable combative skillsets there on the battlefield... Had she had the moment to think about it, she probably would've realized how this would've been the very first time Deku's actually seen her on the actual offensive. Deku would've realized how lucky he was on the day that they finally met again after her disappearance, when she was having other lesser noumus wreck havoc rather than causing it herself. What fell before him was a noumu massacre. She fought to kill the enemies without a shred of mercy. No being could stop her, not even Deku if he truly wanted to try and kill them off himself...

    ..The only thing that did stop her.. was him. Aya finally crushed the last noumu's head when his voice had finally rung out to her. He was congratulating her, praising her, prompting her to shrink back down to the body of a young girl with nothing more than dark mass coating her face, arms and back. It was him. He was calling out to her. It felt so wondrous to hear him again. Papa's voice alone held so much influence that it even drowned out Deku's desperate shouts to bring her back to reality...

    He and Master only wanted to test her, it seemed, to see her grow. She failed to keep her faith in him, but that's okay. Aya was just so important to him. He's so, so proud of her... He loved her, wanted her to come back. Papa was so willing to forgive her for everything she's done. That’s just like him to be so kind to someone like her. They both knew that they she still cared so much for him anyways. She did care about him, didn't she...?

       ... She did. It's true. It showed in her hesitation, and the way tears were soon rolling down her face. She missed him so terribly much. She's do anything for things to go back to much simpler times when all she cared about was just receiving his praise and love. In fact, she would’ve been perfectly fine had she never recovered any of her past memories. She wouldn’t have had to remember such a painful upbringing, instead believing that the one he provided was all she ever knew.      She could have that again, that blissful, ignorant life. He’s offering her to come back. Anything for Papa. He loved his sweet little girl, and she’d do anything for him...

    And yet.. therein lied the problem. Aya.. had to kill the boy behind her if she wanted that. She had to kill Deku, her light of hope that stayed even when she turned towards darkness. Turning to look at the young hero must've brought so much anguish and tension in the air. The look in his eyes hurt her so much... It was so tempting to forget everything, to forget all the pain and misery and suffering she went through...      ..But if there’s anything that Deku showed her, it’s that it’s thanks to those things that she became such a loved little girl who loved everyone back.      So she couldn't do it. She wouldn't.

She won't do it.     She won't be tricked and used anymore...!

Never, ever again--!!

          EVER!!

     Right. Aya didn't want to. She wasn't here for Papa. She was here for Deku. She was here for her own reasons. She came here because she didn't want Deku getting hurt in the first place. That’s her choice. Papa's words can't control her any longer. She was never even his to begin with. Aya didn't have any remorse over the fact that she was now turning the powers he bestowed upon her all against him. She's free from his control. Her fighting him would prove it.       And so, she fought, turning towards the embodiment of pure evil with such a fierce and determined look on her face. Aya fought so valiantly under her own accord. She fought, and fought, and fought until All for One finally found his opening. Landing a piercing blow through the black mass and its core's chest inside, he stunned her for just one second. 

     Just one second, and it was all he needed. Aya's reflexes may have prevented the shot from capacitating her head clean off, but it still ripped a terrible chunk off the whole upper right of her head. He’s damaged the head. A damaged brain for a noumu made it a useless, dead noumu.

It’s Game Over. She lost.           Aya.. can't function anymore.

    She stumbled. And then, she fell. Her fall made such a quiet impact against the ground. She should have listened to Deku. She should have listened, because then she wouldn't have had to hear such a raw, mortified scream come from the boy as he threw himself over just to pick her up. So much pain was in that scream... He shouldn’t ever have to make such a heart-wrenching cry. Oh Aya, what have you done...?      She.. She couldn't move her tendrils, or revert the damage. Her ruined head meant that she could no longer properly use her Quirks, so they dangled there uselessly as Deku pulled her desperately close to his chest, as if that’d stop all the horrors happening right before his very eyes..

    ..Deku was crying. He was so full of despair. It might be hard to tell with just one eye and a blurring vision that's quickly being consumed by darkness, but Aya could easily tell that he was crying, she could feel it. She could feel the tears spill on her face, his trembling, shaking hands struggling so much just to keep hold of her body, her tiny, frail little body. He sounded so unintentionally angry with her. His breaths were so heavy, so hoarse and painfully torn with despair, and.. he was so, so warm against her body. Deku was so warm, and she was quickly growing cold... Aya was wasting away too quickly in his arms. Death was fast approaching.      How was she even still alive at all, anyway...? Who knows...

“Dammit...! Why wouldn't you listen?” “Why did you have to do all that?!”     “Why couldn't you just leave!?” “Why Aya?!”             “Why?!?”

     So many why's... She.. really wanted to answer him. She wanted to say that it's all because he was always doing the same for her, always sacrificing everything he ever had and ever could have just for her. She wanted to tell him that she wanted to protect that glint of hope that's always been there for her, even when she was no longer herself. She was scared. She’s scared right now, fading away so quickly against her wishes.       If only she could apologize---no, if only she could just.. thank him for everything. He deserved so many thank-you’s, so, so many of them. It’s thanks to him that she could bring herself to behave as such up until the very end. It’s thanks to him that she learned to value and cherish the once thing he fought just for her: freedom. Freedom was such a beautiful thing. He fought so hard for it, and she just.. didn’t want it to go to waste... 

     ..And yet, there was only so much she could say in the last fleeting seconds of her life. So, she just.. smiled, so content with the decision she made, hoping all those thoughts and wishes and gratitude would be conveyed---that, along with a simple explanation over selfishness. How proud she looked to be selfish for once.

     “My choice. I wanted to.” Just as simple as that. 

          “For you, Deku.”      “..Thank you..”

[jtsodergren]

The Best of 2019

2019, what an exceptional year for movies! A great way to close out the shittiest decade! Here are the 50 best films I saw this year... click on the title to go to the IMDB page, and I’ll try to post a link to where you can see many of them. Also for the first time this year, I’m including MOM WARNINGS! My mom reads this list and sometimes actually watches these movies... so to save her some grief, sadness, or general concern for my psyche, there will be a NOT FOR MOMS!! warning where applicable... here we go!

50. STAR WARS - EPISODE IX: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER (Amazon)

People really hated this movie... I actually really liked it! Aside from the horses running around on the outside of spaceships (which makes no fucking sense... didn’t Leia get all space frozen exactly one movie ago??), it was a satisfying conclusion to a franchise I guess I don’t really care about as much as other people, so I was into it!

49. JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 3 - PARABELLUM (Amazon)

Quickly becoming one of the more well produced action franchises of all time. Probably two too many machine gun shootouts in this one for me (I get a little exhausted with gun violence), but the hand-to-hand stuff is brilliant and bloody and badass! Not to mention the deepening of the mythology and Halle Berry and her dogs. It’s a fun time, a welcome addition to the series, and I can’t wait for number 4.

48. QUEEN & SLIM (Amazon)

Billed as the black BONNIE AND CLYDE and from first time feature director Melina Matsoukas, this atmospheric tragedy is gorgeous to look at, delivers a pair of standout lead performances, and proves to have one of the more stressful final 30min of any of the films I saw this year, even if you know the inevitable conclusion is just around the corner.

47. UNDER THE SILVER LAKE (Amazon PRIME)

A wild Los Angeles noir story from the director of IT FOLLOWS. Plays like if David Lynch directed THE BIG LEBOWSKI, a weird, screwball whodunit. It’s a little long, and there are so many loose ends that seem to be thrown in just to fuck with the protagonist (and the audience), but it’s a really fun time and you’ll want to stay to the end to see it all play out. LA looks gorgeous too.

46. KNOCK DOWN THE HOUSE (Netflix)

Truly inspiring. Really shows how if you put your mind to something, believe in yourself and that you can make a difference, you can accomplish anything. Regardless of your political leanings, or how you feel about AOC personally, this is well worth your time and it has a great message for young people, especially those young women of color who might not think they can achieve great levels of success. It made me cry the happy tears.

45. LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT (Amazon)

Best known for it’s remarkable 59min-3D final take, this hallucinatory journey through memory and dreams is mind-blowing and breathtaking. Hard not to leave this one feeling like you’ve been put though some kind of experiment that you don’t fully understand, but you’ll want to experience again. Highly recommended if you have access to 3D, or simply have some killer edibles and want to be thrown for a loop.

44. CLIMAX (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of being under the influence, holy shit is this film nuts! From Gaspar Noe, who if you’re aware of his work, you kind of already know what you’re in store for here. It’s been described as “FAME directed by the Marquis de Sade”... incredible dance sequences and audacious camerawork that slowly but surely devolves into hell. It’s a blast!

43. HAIL SATAN? (Hulu)

A fresh and funny documentary about a group of smartass Satanists exposing the hypocrisy amongst bible-thumping Christians who’d rather stomp their feet and be the loudest in the room than listen to anyone else’s perspective. Frustrating and entertaining in equal parts, this compulsively watchable film makes you want to scream at these Jesus freaks as much as you want to laugh along with the antics of these harmless, intelligent and organized troublemakers. An excellent time well spent.

42. FIRST LOVE (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

Director Takashi Miike’s yakuza action-comedy is the most accessible of his films I’ve seen (he’s now made more than 100 movies, which is insane), but that doesn’t mean it’s not a gonzo wild time at the movies. The violence is here in full force, but unlike AUDITION or ICHI THE KILLER, you don’t need a barf bag close by to enjoy it. It’s often hilarious and moves at a breakneck speed. Super fun!

41. THE DEAD DON’T DIE (Amazon PRIME)

Jim Jarmusch’s star-studded, droll zombie-comedy came and went from theaters without much fanfare, but provided me with plenty of laughs. It’s also the second of 3 Adam Driver vehicles to be on this year’s list. Bill Murray and Driver lead the way along with plenty familiar faces in cameos throughout (including the RZA in one of my favorite scene’s of the year). Classic Jarmusch... a meditation on death and mortality in his vintage style.

40. EL CAMINO: A BREAKING BAD MOVIE (Netflix)

Dude, Aaron Paul is a legit GREAT actor. Picks up right where the show left off, and I was on the edge of my seat and filled with anxiety just like I was during the best moments of the now classic series. It was good to hang out with my old friends again.

39. DOCTOR SLEEP (Amazon)

A box office flop due to poor promotion and a title people weren’t familiar with, this sequel to THE SHINING is based on the Stephen King book of the same name, which I read, and I can’t recommend it more. Great suspense, and fantastic performances from both Ewan McGregor and (especially) Rebecca Ferguson. It’s a dark and scary film that is a fun trip back to the Overlook Hotel... provided you wish to return there...

38. THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO (Amazon PRIME)

About 90min into this beautifully shot film I was ready to lock it in as a possible Top 5 contender. Then the bottom fell out for me the last quarter of the movie and lost my confidence. No bother, it’s still wonderful enough to find a spot on the list and carry my recommendation. Young men and women watching their city change before their eyes, and wondering what the concept of “home” really means is a real challenge facing many people here in the Bay Area. This film does a fantastic job conveying that, for most of the film anyway. 

37. THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON (Amazon)

A bonafide crown-pleaser of a movie, and another example of the true talent Shia LeBeouf has and is capable of (more on him later). A young man with Down Syndrome escapes his assisted-living facility to track down his wrestling idol the Saltwater Redneck with the help of an outlaw and a social worker. Sweet, funny, and heartfelt... a feel good surprise.

36. A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD (Amazon)

I didn’t cry nearly as much as I did during the excellent documentary WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR from last year, but if you’re a Mr. Rogers fan, you’ll still shed a few during this heartwarming film. Tom Hanks does his thing, and even though this movie is guilty of borrowing a little too much from the previous doc, it’s still a great showcase for the truly selfless and beautiful force of nature that Fred Rogers was. Bring tissues anyway.

35. CARMINE STREET GUITARS (In Theaters Now)

A love letter to both New York City and the art, joy, and love that goes into honing and maintaining one’s craft. Meanwhile the looming doom of gentrification hovers over the proceedings, never letting you get fully enrapt in the sweetness that these artists (and their many famous customers) exude when talking about and playing their one-of-a-kind works of art. A stunning and lovely piece for musicians and talentless fans of music alike.

34. HOLIDAY (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A tough, cold film with nary a character to actively root for... until after about an hour of icy behavior comes (no pun intended) a scene so shocking in its graphic and disturbing nature, people left the theater without staying for the final resolution. First time director Isabella Eklof pulls off the bold and audacious maneuver, all while making it seem like she doesn’t care whether you like her characters (or her film) at all. It’s a very fine balancing act, executed to perfection. But be warned... it’s rough.

33. AVENGERS: ENDGAME (Disney+)

What can I say? You saw it. It’s good. A bunch of Supermans fly around and blow shit up. A satisfying end (until the next 20 films).

32. MIDSOMMAR (Amazon Prime)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A disturbing slow burn of a gothic horror film. Characters do hallucinogens while ritualistic religious murders and tribal mating practices threaten to ruin everyones existence. Florence Pugh is phenomenal (more from her in a minute) in a very trying roll. Doesn’t pack quite the punch of the director’s last film, HEREDITARY, but it’s still well worth the watch. But yeah, it’s disturbing.

31. APOLLO 11 (Hulu)

A fascinating look at the first moon landing from rarely seen archival footage and audio. Seeing it on the IMAX screen was intense and exhilarating, unlike narrative pictures like the severely overrated FIRST MAN. This isn’t my favorite documentary of the year, but it is an absolute lock to win the Academy Award for Best Doc of 2019. It’s a must see, a must experience.

30. HIGH LIFE (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

French auteur Claire Denis’ bizarre, erotic sci-fi mindfuck about isolation and humanity is not for everyone, but is a brilliant take on the genre, and is yet another showcase for Robert Pattinson, who is quietly becoming one of my favorite working actors. Juliette Binoche also is on fire here and has what one critic calls “the single greatest one-person sex scene in the history of cinema.” So it has that going for it.

29. TRIPLE FRONTIER (Netflix)

A fully loaded heist film with no real bad guy, but instead a group of recognizable badasses in a Netflix-released action thrill ride. There’s absolutely no reason this should’ve worked, or even been half as good as it is, but boy is it good! Compulsively watchable, and rewatchable. If this were on Showtime as much as DEN OF THIEVES is I’d have seen it 30 times by now. It’s one of the most pleasant surprises of the year.

28. 1917 (Amazon)

An unbelievable visual achievement from cinematographer Roger Deakins and director Sam Mendes. The story isn’t the greatest war story ever told (are there great war stories?), but it’s shot to look like one continuous long take, sustained for 2hrs. It’s really an unbelievable feat, but doesn’t come off as gimmicky or distracting. It’s intense, beautifully staged, and sad. A big screen spectacle. 

27. TOY STORY 4 (Amazon)

Woody and the gang are back, and the films continue to keep the dust from collecting. It’s still so much fun to hang out with this group of misfit toys. There was talk that after the incredible TOY STORY 3 this was just a money grab and was labeled unnecessary, but I found it to be a sweet, charming, and nostalgic trip I was glad I took.

26. HONEYLAND (Hulu)

My pick for documentary of the year comes from the mountains of Macedonia, where a woman named Hatidze lives with her dying mother making a living cultivating honey. When a family of shitheads moves into a shanty next door, what seems like a fix for her lonely existence becomes catastrophic as they disregard her teachings and threaten her livelihood. I was an emotional wreck throughout the experience and it goes without saying it’s a must-see. Gorgeous and heartbreaking.

25. LITTLE WOMEN (Amazon)

I have never read the book, nor seen any of the film adaptations, so I went in blind to this lovely film. Director Greta Gerwig follows up the phenomenal LADYBIRD with this Altman-esque rendition of the widely beloved literary classic. I found it exceptional in its execution and performances, including the previously mentioned Florence Pugh, who is a knockout. A wonderful addition to the ever-growing stable of Christmas films I look to enjoy during future Decembers.

24. GREENER GRASS (Hulu)

It’s as if Tim & Eric made BLUE VELVET. Bizarre, outrageous, gross, and a guaranteed future midnight movie favorite. My sides hurt. A satire skewering upper-middle class suburban soccer moms and dads alike. Babies are given away. A boy turns into a dog. Everyone has braces. There’s a creep on the loose. It’s wild and flat-out hilarious literally from start to finish. Almost too many jokes to keep up with. Watch it! Bring weed. 

23. RELAXER (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of gross, this film is disgusting, but in a good way. A satire about lazy consumerism and self-destruction. It’s a short hang, thankfully, but if you can stomach it to the end (remember, it’s nasty) you’ll be rewarded with not only a hilarious dark comedy, but also an unexpected haymaker of sadness you didn’t see coming. It’s a pretty impressive feat, and an overall success. But, yeah, it’s fucking gross. 

22. AD ASTRA (Amazon)

APOCALYPSE NOW in space starring Brad Pitt. If you need more information than that, I don’t really know what else to do for you. 

21. SLUT IN A GOOD WAY (Amazon PRIME)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A black-and-white raunchy French arthouse teen comedy that gives a middle finger to the double standard set by the equally raunchy teen-boys-will-be-boys genre. It’s so much fun, and honest, and the actors are such natural talents you forget the subject matter is at times shocking (only because of said double standard) and just go with it. I think it’s just wonderful. Seek it out!

20. US (HBO)

Jordan Peele’s excellent follow-up to GET OUT. Doppelganger home invasion terror with a killer twist. To describe more would be to risk giving something away. I’ll just say that Lupita Nyong’o is my pick to win her second Oscar, this time as Best Actress, here in a dual role. She’s incredible. If you haven’t seen it, try to go in blind, you’ll be rewarded.

19. THE FAREWELL (Amazon PRIME)

A heartfelt homecoming film about family, culture, and how the things we don’t say can be just as strong of a show of love as the things we do say. It’s sweet, tender, and bursting with personal flare and emotions from director Lulu Wang. Awkwafina also curbs her more manic and loud tendencies as a performer for more quiet, thoughtful, and somber choices. She’s phenomenal. 

18. KNIVES OUT (Amazon)

A clever ensemble whodunit that’s just as funny and smart as it is mysterious. Everyone across the board delivers as the assorted motley crew. The film rewards repeat viewings and Daniel Craig knocks it out of the park, stealing every scene he’s in, reminding us all what a fantastic actor he can be when he’s not sipping the Vespers. 

17. BOOKSMART (Hulu)

The female SUPERBAD is the elevator pitch, but this coming-of-age gem is really unlike any other example in the genre. They’re privileged, uber-smart, and have never partied. Yet they have the same neuroses as any other teen scared to death of what to do next or how to be normal. It’s also fucking hilarious. You wanna hang out with these girls and at the same time bury your head under the covers because you feel their pure terror/embarrassment. It’s a blast.

16. THE MUSTANG (Amazon)

Starring Matthias Schoenaerts, one of the finest actor’s working today, this understated and emotional drama about rehabilitation and redemption floored me upon first viewing. It is a gorgeous film. You’ve probably seen stories similar to this before, but rarely is one told with such compelling conviction. A borderline masterpiece. 

15. HONEY BOY (Amazon PRIME)

Remember a few years back we had the McConaissance, where everything Matthew McConaughey did was solid gold after years of middling bullshit? I’m calling it right now: Shia LaBeouf is about to have the same thing. He wrote the script and plays a version of his own father in a brutal version of his own fucked up childhood as an up-and-coming child actor. It’s heartbreaking and absolutely riveting. I’m hoping he gets an Oscar nod, but regardless I implore you to seek this film out, he’s incredible. 

14. MONOS (Hulu)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A bizarre, bewildering, chaotic, and unsettling film. Some of the most beautiful photography I saw on the big screen this year, yet some of the most surreal and disturbing imagery as well. It’s a militarized, Latin American LORD OF THE FLIES with commentary on tribal behavior and violence. It can be a tough sit, but boy is it beautiful. 

13. DOLEMITE IS MY NAME (Netflix)

What a wonderful, welcome surprise! Eddie Murphy in an awards caliber performance as Rudy Ray Moore, the multi-hyphenate performer who created the alter ego Dolemite, spawning a film franchise and many legendary comedy albums. It’s obviously hilarious, and a great behind-the-scenes biopic, but also shockingly sweet and heartfelt, even between all the cuss words. I even teared up a couple times. The 3rd best thing Netflix released this year (more on that in a minute).

12. JOKER (Amazon)

You already saw this.

11. THE IRISHMAN (Netflix)

It’s far too long. It could’ve done with being cut as a three part miniseries or special. There’s about 45min worth of scenes that are quintessential DVD bonus features (I’m looking at you Action Bronson), but goddamn if it’s not Scorsese doing his Scorsese thing. It’s a gangster film, but it’s also a meditation on aging and death. Pesci is incredible and Pacino steals the show. Sure, the de-aging thing is distracting, the curb stomping scene is embarrassing. But still, I mean... IT’S MARTIN SCORSESE!

10. PAIN AND GLORY (Amazon)

Pedro Almodovar’s most personal work to date, a tale about making art and the loneliness of love. If you are unfamiliar with his work, this is a great jumping off point. His movies can be challenging and dark, but this film has such joy and hope amongst the heartache. The final reveal, while not earth shattering on paper, is nonetheless so moving it left the screening I attended without a dry eye in the place. It is his best film yet. 

9. THE LIGHTHOUSE (Amazon)

From the director of THE WITCH comes another type of gothic horror, this time with the legendary Willem Dafoe and the (already mentioned) brilliant Robert Pattinson marooned on a lighthouse rock alone to drive each other completely insane. It’s hallucinatory, violent, disorienting, and flat-out brilliant. If it weren’t for another guy we’ll get to in a minute, Dafoe would be a lock for Best Supporting Actor here. It’s a slightly challenging film, with the period style mariner dialogue, but it’s just as funny as it is terrifying.

8. JOJO RABBIT (Amazon)

A beautiful, touching, funny, crowd-pleasing comedy about a little Nazi whose imaginary friend is Hitler. Yep, your read that correctly. There are about a million reasons this should absolutely not work. Yet, it’s one of the best theater going experiences I had this year. A must see... ESPECIALLY with Mom!

7. MARRIAGE STORY (Netflix)

The best written and acted film of the year, and the third Adam Driver vehicle to appear here. Sad but honest. Touching but brutal. It’s awkward and a bit of a bummer, but there’s such great work being done here, in front of and behind the camera. Noah Baumbach is a force of nature, and has yet to make a film I was even iffy about. He’s the real deal and this might be his masterpiece. 

6. WAVES (Amazon)

Speaking of auteurs, Trey Edward Shults is now 3/3 on features after the brilliant KRISHA and IT COMES AT NIGHT. Here he follows a middle-class black family, led by a domineering father, through a tragic moment in all of their lives. The first half deals with the son’s story, then abruptly switches to the daughter’s life post said event. It shouldn’t work, yet somehow manages to be one of the most emotionally affecting pieces of art I saw this year. The camera never stops moving, constantly swirling and whirling and you can’t help to be sucked up into it. It’s a beautiful tragedy.

5. LONG SHOT (HBO)

The biggest and most pleasant surprise of the year. An opposites-attract rom-com with more brains, bite, social commentary, and laughs than it has any right to have. Easily the most fun you’ll have with (almost) the whole family... there’s a lot of cum jokes. But don’t let the vulgarity dissuade you! It’s a total riot with just the right amount of sweetness to balance out the saltiness. I love love love this movie.

4. THE ART OF SELF-DEFENSE (Hulu)

What starts as a strange, dark comedy morphs into a FIGHT CLUB-esque thriller with allusions to disturbingly toxic masculinity and an offbeat take on what it takes to “be a man.” It is laugh-out-loud hilarious, and expertly made, while really having something to say, and it says it in a way I’ve never really seen before. It’s not surprising this didn’t get more attention, the characters are truly difficult to relate to, let alone root for, but as far as originality goes, you’d be hard pressed to find anything this year much better than this. 

3. UNCUT GEMS (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

The cinematic equivalent of being locked in the brain of a lunatic having a cocaine-fueled anxiety attack. If that sounds like fun (AND IT IS!!!) then this is the film for you! Oh, and Adam Sandler is going to be nominated for an Oscar for Best Actor. For real. It’s a chaotic, stress-filled masterpiece.

2. ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (Amazon)

My favorite filmmaker’s 2nd best film. A personal story about the love of film during the late 60s, a time of dirty hippies and Charles Manson, as well as the passing of the torch from old Hollywood to the “golden age” of cinema. It’s a fairytale of sorts, with Tarantino’s trademark flare for spontaneous violence and mining multiple genres to make his most mature work since PULP FICTION. I’ve been rewarded with new takeaways upon each subsequent viewing, and my love and appreciation for it only grows and grows. Brad Pitt is a lock for Best Supporting Actor, he’s magnificent. It was always going to be my #1 with a bullet no matter what, because it’s just that great...

1. PARASITE (Amazon)

...but then Bong Joon-ho, the master of new Korean cinema unleashed PARASITE. Not only is it the best film of 2019, it’s one of the best films I have ever seen. Like EVER ever. He is in such astonishing control of his craft it’s hard not to sit back and marvel and the sheer skill on display. You can be laughing one moment and then recoiling in horror during the same breath. He’s using multiple genre tropes, incredible set design, pitch perfect acting/writing, and such exquisite planning you can’t possibly know what’s in store for you from one scene to the next. It is an absolute masterpiece and if it doesn’t sweep every category it’s nominated for at this year’s Oscars, it’ll be a travesty. If you have even a passing interest in film as an art form, the power it can wield, and the messages it can convey, you owe it to yourself to see this film. It’s perfect.

Well, there it is. Thanks for reading any part of this. Now go see PARASITE. I love you.

[everythinkaloud]

My first blog post, please be gentle (assuming anyone care’s enough to read :-)

Be gentle, this is my first blog post.  Hopefully, the start of something wonderful but who knows?

I attended a wonderful ayahuasca retreat recently.  It really was a beautiful experience.  I had many insights that I would like to share with others.  This blog will be my outlet for those and my other musings about life.  I hope you the reader enjoy it.

I have a propensity to read.  A lot! My reading is quite varied but mostly business-oriented of late.  However, my other interests include philosophy, personal development, leadership, health and wellness (particularly diet) and even bizarrely quantum mechanics (mostly to explain my experiences on Ayahuasca).  Basically, I love to learn, and now I am learning to share!  This is largely prompted by a friend who keeps encouraging me to redress the balance between input and output.  That is, my intellectual output is dwarfed by my consumption of others intellectual output. She has a point!  

And that my friend is how you came to be reading these words right now!  I am writing under a pseudonym not to protect my identity but to give myself freedom of speech unencumbered by the identity that the world imposes on me!  I have no problem being open and I am working day by day at prising myself even more open millimetre by millimetre.  Sadly, others do not necessarily share this view.  I attribute much of our misery to the fact that we do not share openly with one another our thoughts, feelings and beliefs leading us to believe that we are uniquely broken.  However, the more I open up to others and the more they share with me in return, the more aware I become that we are all really very weird and wonderful in the pretty much the same ways.  Those strange (and sometimes dark) thoughts you have don’t actually belong to you but more on that later.    

Those pesky intangibles such as our identity and ego, seem to be the source of so many of our biggest problems.  Assuming that you actually wanted to locate them, where on earth are these things anyway?  Exactly, the problem being that we actually perpetuate them by chasing after them.  And might the ego not actually be a wonderful thing?  A work of fiction for sure but nonetheless a wonderful thing.  After all, its fundamental purpose seems to be to keep us alive so why the movement to kill it?  I realised just how wonderful a thing a mind is whilst taking Ayahuasca.  Its many facets revealed to me in all its wonder, giving me a newfound appreciation for the workings between my ears, which I hasten to add are by and large complete fiction.  Lest we not forget that there is a subject and object.  What I think about the object is not the object itself!  Perhaps objective reality does exist but can we as subjective beings ever experience it?      

I plan on writing daily.  Some musings will be more in depth than others.  Some might be supported by science other just merely perception (or just plain speculation).  Ultimately, its just my take on the world (or rather universe) we all co-habit (for now and actually maybe eternally given my recent psychedelic and meditative experiences).        

Anyhow, now the introduction is out of the way, I must write something of substance for you have given me the privilege of your time.  What more precious is there to give in life than time, the most finite of all resources?  I heard an enlightened comment earlier from a friend who noted that we cannot control outcomes.  How true this is!  I believe that misapprehending this point is perhaps one of the main sources of our dissatisfaction with life.  There are just far too many variables in life to control anything but the most mundane things such as what one eats for tea tonight.  Even that to some extent is beyond my control since the food available for purchase is entirely contingent upon the labour of others from the growers, to the distributors, to the retailers.  Seems obvious right but even the car I use to travel to the shop and the gas supplied to the cooker (and the cooker itself) are fruits of countless beings labour.  Essentially, anything we can see or touch, contains everything else when viewed from this standpoint.  This is what is known as the interconnectedness of all things.  It truly is wonderous.  Nothing exists independently.  That’s is, there is no separate self.  When I say that I did something, what I really mean is that the whole universe supported me in doing something for I could not have done that thing were it not for everything else that ever existed!  

It seems crazy I know but ultimately true.  And does it matter even if it isn’t true?  I would argue not.  This is because believing in interconnectedness will result in more wholesome actions which in turn will produce more happiness in the world.  We should not be asking whether our beliefs are true but rather are they beneficial!  And where do beliefs come from anyway?  Our beliefs are important.  They shape our worldview more so than supposed objective reality.  Watch this YouTube video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyu7v7nWzfo) by Anil Seth to find out how.  

Spend a moment meditating and you will soon discover that it isn’t you doing the thinking.  As the heart beats, so the brain thinks.  The Buddhists describe thinking as the ‘sixth sense’.  Do not take it personally!  Discovering this, over time you become less attached to your thoughts (and feelings), recognising at last that they were never actually ‘yours’ to begin with. Merely an endless stream of consciousness.  Quite wonderful from the point of view of the witness merely observing the ‘movie’.  

So if you can’t control the output, what can you control?  Well I would argue to some extent the input.  That is, our thoughts apparently emanate from our subconscious.  Therefore, what we put into our subconscious is of paramount importance.  It is your choice whether to read from ‘The Book of Joy’ or watch a horror movie. Which of the two do you consider would lead to more wholesome thoughts and actions?  If you watch pornography all the time what do you expect that you will see in your external reality?  Might everything look like an object of sex?  

So, to sum up, I posit that our beliefs combined with incoming data combine to produce our mental output, which whilst perhaps uncontrollable is capable of being influenced by us in a deliberate way.  

Lastly, I would return to the point that most if not everything in our lives is beyond our control.  What we can, however, control is our effort.  Ultimately, in life, you can only do your very best.  Beyond that you are in the hands of the Gods (whoever or whatever they may be)!  So, focus on effort not on outcomes and you may find yourself living a happier, more fulfilled life!

Here’s to hoping that reading this blog contributed to more positive mental output for you the reader 😊          

[emathevampire]

uploading as a real photo post this time... and in somewhat better quality. Rough sketch of my plans for paintings for him, whether I get around to that or not has yet to be seen, but if I don’t at least there’s these!

The tragic tale of Amanthos Panideios as told by Tarot: his life, death, undeath, and ultimately his corruption into an Archfiend. Hopefully, I will earn him redemption and a true happy ending before his story is over... but have the meaning and such behind each of these under the cut.

The Lovers: Amanthos was at the middle of a polyamorous triad for roughly 500 years, the other two being Psamion (a dashing sailor who often visited his library on business for Kíhyué) and Arekos (a gifted necromancer who had been Amanthos’ best friend since they were children). Psamion seduced these two individually, and thought little of it until Arekos asked him how he managed to get Amanthos’ attention romantically, since he had been trying for centuries to no avail. Psamion simply laughed and told him to be blunt, as he knew Amanthos wanted a more committed, constant companion to fill the void Psamion left while he was away, but was afraid his feelings would not be reciprocated, or worse, that he would be made to choose between the two, so he kept to himself to avoid ruining his most valued friendship. Fortunately, the three of them came together to sort out that fear, and were quite happy together until fate called their foundation away.    It also represents how he was (and still is) a useless multiclassing bastard. He could never choose between one path or another, dabbled in a little bit of everything, and it held him back for a long time until that choice got made for him. He could have been so many things with an Intelligence score that high, a wizard, a death master, anything else, but instead chose to pursue monkhood, martial prowess, and more doctorate degrees than any sane being ever would, content to be a librarian for the rest of his days... but it was not meant to be. Eventually, he would be chosen to serve his god of knowledge in a way only he could... and it wasn’t a chance he could refuse.

Nine of Swords: The Ritual of Crucimigration. In order to travel the stars to receive the answers he asked of them, Amanthos would have to die. And it would be no ordinary death, either. He would need to be transformed into an undead. Ordinarily, unless the proper funeral rites are performed, his race of elves become ghosts bound to their corpses when they die, rapidly deteriorating mentally while their bodies rot away, and they cannot become undead any other way unless specially blessed by their gods with Lichdom, or unless they turn their backs on the gods entirely. A Lich would be too powerful to leave the universe, but a Necropolitan would be able to escape it. Their gods have no influence outside of their universal sphere, and if he were to leave it alive he would rapidly age and die as he turned into a normal elf and his soul would be lost. So, the only way the gods could continue to protect him outside their sphere would be to allow this ritual, simultaneously blessing him with what protection they can give, and cursing him to be forever banished from their afterlife.    The ritual required a Death Master to oversee it, and he begged his sister Nikiti to request the position, not wanting to be alone, needing someone he trusted to be there for him. She turned him down when he asked, as she couldn’t bear the thought of doing what had to be done to him, but the Ruby Knights selected her for the task anyway as she was the most skilled for the level required... and she could not refuse the demands of her order.    As per the ritual, Amanthos is affixed to a pole with cursed nails and subjected to grueling torture for 24 hours, before the last spike is driven through his heart. The physical pain pales before the spiritual agony of glimpsing Aetherius, feeling the precious release, Lady Death’s sweet embrace, and being dragged back into his corpse away from it all, watching the gates close to him forever before opening his eyes once more to the world he was destined to leave.

The Hermit: After leaving his home planet, it is difficult to calculate for certain how long he spent exploring the galaxy before he left, but it is somewhere between 100 and 200 years. Alone, with nothing but his books and his wits about him, and the faded, worn scraps of paper containing messages and memories from his loved ones. While he learns a great deal, ultimately he runs out of uninhabited planets and empty expanses of space, and decides to test his theories and explore the Black Hole.

The Devil: Going through the Black Hole was a bad fucking plan.    I kind of want to just leave it at that, because really, I feel like that’s the best summary I can give, but I’ll go into details anyway. Essentially, he got spit out into a different universe: the remains of a collapsed timeline where the Blood War spilled out onto all planes of existence, and it is Hell On Earth with Asmodeus and a replacement for Dispater as the last two Lords of the Nine standing against the endless tides of demons, doing everything in their power to keep the hordes at bay.    The Lord of Dis is simply a warforged doing his best to be a good person, despite the vile deeds he is contractually bound to commit. He created Sanctuary: a place on the second layer where those who weren’t evil in life have a chance to escape the horrors of the Blood War and live in peace for as long as they can, before ultimately their souls are harvested and condemned to Hell. There is, however, if enough people work together, a chance to escape once and for all: an ever-changing maze full of clockwork monsters, puzzles, and tests of mettle.    Amanthos, knowing none of this, but being trapped in this artificial paradise, knows he must escape it by any means necessary if he wants to return home. And escape he does: he rallies maze running parties, teams up with each gate’s party, and after a long year of hard work finally manages to unlock the way out. Only, as with all things Infernal, there is a catch.    Unit Two, as the Lord of Dis calls himself, wants to die. He thought he could help, fix things, make Hell better from the inside and fight the system, but Asmodeus tricked him into believing this could be done. He doesn’t have enough power to do it on his own, but if nine people kill him, Asmodeus is in a right mess without a council to do his bidding, and they might be able to succeed where he failed. It’s the only way to save the friends they had to leave behind in Sanctuary, and the only way to have a hope at finally ending the Blood War once and for all, which is what Asmodeus has been trying to do all along... by making Hell On Earth, ruling the material plane with an iron fist, he can simply take all the souls and make fiendish evil the law of the land. So, Two offers the group a choice: take his private spaceship and flee this hellish world while they still can, or take the scroll that makes him mortal and end his torment.    The group promises to come back for him, taking both the scroll and the spaceship, and adventures in search of things they might be able to use to win the fight, as naturally they were all intimidated by the 30ft tall hunk of solid adamantine with godlike power. But no matter what they did, they were bound to return, as they could not justify condemning their friends to Hell... and eventually came back to fight with a few tricks up their sleeves.    The battle was hard-won, with many casualties, Amanthos among them. But when Asmodeus showed up to inspect the wreckage, the party demanded he be brought back to advocate on their behalf. The party was made an offer they could not refuse, the chance to end evil forever, if they had the guts to do what had to be done to end it... and thus Asmodeus walked free, and the world itself rewritten as Tetsu became the new Asmodeus, Belle became the new Dispater, and the rest took seats on the Council of Nine, steeling themselves for the damnation that awaited them as they would fight, by any and all means necessary, to end the cancer of the Abyss forever.

   Amanthos is, legally, chained to his position as an Archdevil. He can send avatars out into the world and even other worlds, but he himself must remain, doing all he can to resist temptation and stave off the inevitable corruption that awaits him. So, in truth, what returns to his homeworld is but an image of what he wishes he still were: undead, but uncorrupted, untouched by the knowledge that in truth he lost his soul, believing that he won. He only hopes that this avatar will return soon with someone who is truly capable of doing the job he must do in the interim, since truth be told, he really doesn’t have the stomach for it. He may not be a saint, and honestly, not even a good person... but by all the gods he loves so dearly, he could never be an evil one.

[korkrunchcereal]

Prey

(Find the previous story here)

Aurelian groaned as he woke up, wincing at the throbbing from the back of his head. He blinked several times as his hand rubbed his temple, realizing he was in a barely lit room, torches from somewhere casting long shadows. As his vision adjusted to his surroundings, he noticed the steel bars scant feet in front of him. Panic filled him, the man jumping upright as he moved to the bars in realization; he was in a cell. Scarred fingers gripped the cold steel tightly-

He froze, eyes looking in horror at his hands. They were not only lacking the purple tint of the Nightborne, but they also were blemished. Even in the dim light of his prison he could see the scars on his hands. Slowly he let the bars go, gently and cautiously running his fingers along his body. He felt several scars, realizing he was bare chested and, to his chagrin, without the torque around his neck. His illusion was gone as was the enchanted jewelry he wore so religiously, and for the first time in recent memory he felt well and truly naked.

“How did I get in- “He paused, remembering the events of earlier. Confusion over his predicament turned to rising anger, his emerald eyes narrowing. Corvayon by some unknown means had found him out. Was it truly his own intuition? Or had someone tipped him off? Aurelian was uncertain, for Corvayon’s own words sowed distrust. Illuria could have easily set Aurelian up, though for what purpose he was not certain. Corvayon had been right in that Aurelian was useful, though so far, he had done little to truly aid Illuria, unless this was her motive.

What he was certain of however was that he was stripped of his armor and torque, stored only light knows where, and that his sword was back at Coren’s home, though undoubtedly it had been confiscated by now. Aurelian was unarmored, unarmed and with no knowledge of just where precisely he was. He had heard of the prisons the Nightborne had but could not place which one this was precisely. Briefly he considered trying to use magic, though when he began to utter even the most basic of incantation the hair on the back of his neck had arisen, as if warning him. No doubt with such a magically inclined society that they had wards to ensure no prisoner could escape via magic. In short, he was trapped.

“Oh look; the outlander has awoken.” Aurelian’s gaze shot up, staring into the cell across from him. A grey-haired man stood at the bars with a mad look in his eyes, grinning in such a way that it made even Aurelian uncomfortable. “Pale skin, an inferior look to his eye and posture...You’re definitely a Sin’dorei. I couldn’t quite tell when they first brought you down here.”

“And just who are you supposed to be?” Aurelian asked with clear annoyance in his tone.

“Oh, irritated, are we? Got caught walking in a city of people better than you? Or are you a spy? I hear our children are better at sneaking around than your people.”

“You have an awful lot to say on my kind for someone stuck in a cell.”

“I have seen plenty of your kind dragged here. They’re all the same; all bark and no bite…at least until they’re grabbed. Then they beg and plead to live. Some get taken by Nightborne, others get taken by the Legion. Either way, you’re going to die, outlander just like the rest of your kind. You’re going to die!” Aurelian groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself off the bars. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he began planning, thinking of anyway out. He turned around to eye the room, in case there was anything there he could use.

His room was sparse, with nothing more than a rather uncomfortable looking bed and what seemed to be a chamber pot. He curled his lip in disgust, turning around to look out his cell again. The other prisoner was still there with that damnable grin on his face. As much as Aurelian desired to wipe it off that man’s face, he had no means to do so. Strangely there was no guard in sight, nor could he hear any marching. It seemed unusual for a prison, but perhaps it was simply so large that it would take a while for any patrols to pass by.

“Looking for someone outlander?”

“Are there no guards?” That earned him a guffaw in response. “What?”

“Guards?” The man snorted, shaking his head. “There are no guards, only executioners. If a guard comes for you, it means they’re taking you somewhere to be killed. No one they take has ever come back.” The man went silent then, ears perking. Aurelian raised a brow, before realizing what the man was listening for. In the distance he heard faint footsteps, causing the other prisoner to begin cackling. “Do you hear that? They’re coming for you now!”

Aurelian backed away from the door of his cell, bracing himself against the back wall. He had no chains or manacles around him, so if they came for him he would at least fight back. He could he believed physically match a Nightborne even armored, but a demon might be something else entirely. The sound of bare feet on stone drew closer, and as the individual came into view he realized it was no demon. In the dim torchlight he could at least make out that it was a woman in some form of armor. She was surprisingly alone and did not open the cell. Instead she knelt down at the lock on his cell, hands moving to it.

“What?” Slowly Aurelian moved forward, fists still at the ready should she attack. As he drew closer to the door, he realized the woman was working on the lock, pick and various tools more suited for a thief in hand. She was breaking him out. “What are you- “

“Hush.” The voice was familiar though he could not place it. Aurelian grumbled but remained quiet as she worked, occasionally glancing to the other prisoner. He was watching intently, though mercifully remained quiet. At last there was a small clicking sound, the woman all but tearing the lock off. “Come on, we have to move fast.” Aurelian wasted no time as the cell slowly creaked open, moving outside the cage.

“Who are you?” The woman paused, turning to look at Aurelian. She seemed familiar, if a bit plain. Where had he seen her? “Ah! I recognize you. The servant from the Indaris estate that bumped into me.”

“You ran into me, but yes. Now come on, I can explain everything on the way.”

“The way?”

“Hey!” The other prisoner called out, hands gripping his own cell. “Let me out too!” Aurelian looked at the man as if he was insane. “What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it! I have a wife, and three kids waiting for me.”

“We don’t have time.” The servant said as if a matter of fact. Aurelian moved to walk away, before the prisoner spoke again.

“Let me out or I’ll shout for the guards. They’ll be here in an instant to kill your sorry hides.” The servant rolled her eyes then, sighing as she moved to the cell cage and kneeling down. “That’s better.” Aurelian moved with her, leaning against the wall nearby and crossing his arms. She tried pulling on the lock, letting out a curse as it did not budge.

“Damn, this one’s trickier. Whatever your name is, hold the cell it’s rattling too much for me.” The prisoner gripped the bars tightly, glee in his eyes. As soon as he did the servant shot up, bringing something that caught the light across the man’s neck. His glee turned to shock, then to horror as his hands moved to his throat, blood oozing from a thin slice. He tried to speak though instead spat out blood. He panicked, clawing at the bars even as his life drained out until at last he collapsed, a pool forming around him.

“Gruesome.” Aurelian curled a lip, stepping away as blood seeped from beneath the bar onto the stone.

“He should have remained quiet. Come on, let’s go.” He saw the dagger in her hand then, crimson dripping from its edge. Seeing how quickly she had moved and being unarmed as he was, he was in no position to object. He instead waved a hand in the direction they were originally going.

“lead the way in case there are any more. Your dagger will do more than my fists, I think.” The woman gave a nod though sheathed her dagger, moving down the hall. “So where are we going?”

“We’re getting you out of this prison, for starters. Your belongings are luckily stored upstairs, though it’s merely your clothing and some jewelry.” Aurelian breathed a sigh of relief; the torque was there.

“I need that jewelry. Now, what of my armor and sword? They were at my-Coren’s home.”

“After your arrest, Corvayon had your house searched. No doubt the guards confiscated both, to where I am not certain. I had to find this armor for myself, I couldn’t find anything for you.”

“Was there just a suit of armor laying around?”

“I made sure there was one.” Aurelian did not need to question any further on that, realizing what she meant. 

“I see…who are you exactly? I don’t believe servants usually break into prisons.”

“I am an agent of Lady Illuria. I’ve been working at the Indaris estate for some time now, acting on behalf of my mistress.”

“Is Illuria alright?”

“Corvayon has her under guard at their estate for ‘her protection’. When she found out you had been captured, she sent me to get you.”

“For what purpose? Corvayon knows who I am as do the guards, so my only recourse is to flee the city.”

“Corvayon is dangerous. My lady has become convinced he’s responsible for the murder of the various nobles.” Aurelian raised a brow at that, tilting his head.

“She’s correct. Before he had me arrested he confessed to framing me for their killings.”

“So, my lady was right; he’s become too dangerous then for the rebels of Suramar.” She sighed then, giving a nod to herself. “My lady wishes him eliminated.”

“And I presume that is where I come in.”

“Precisely. She believes you are capable of killing him.”

“She wants me to kill him? What is wrong with you or anyone else? You seem more than capable, and someone with her influence I am sure can scrounge up an assassin or two in this city.”

“I’m a spy, not an assassin. I can kill when needed but it would have to be unexpected such as that prisoner, and frankly Corvayon would expect it since he knows me. As for others, how exactly would she ‘scrounge up’ anyone whilst under house arrest? It was nearly too much for me to even come rescue you, let alone hire anyone without him knowing. Besides, it would take days to find an assassin capable of it.

“You say it as if we have no time at all.”

“We don’t. Corvayon’s making his move for a position on Elisande’s council even now. By the time I can orchestrate anything he’ll be too well positioned and surrounded by both Nightborne and demons. You must kill him now. Besides, don’t you want your revenge?”

“I want to live. This is not my fight.”

“You fight to save this world yes? It is everyone’s fight. Mine, yours and every other soul on this planet that will stand against the Legion must fight, or we all will perish. Corvayon’s role is small in the grand scheme of things, but his death will deny Elisande a useful tool and the Legion a willing ally in a city poised against them. So, what will you do then? Run back to your lands and hide, or take your revenge.” Aurelian went silent then, mulling it over. Her words were not exactly wrong, though in truth letting others fight was tempting. However, his pride had been wounded by Corvayon, and he was eager for the vengeance now presented to him.

“Very well…I shall kill Corvayon.”

“Excellent. Now, hold.” She moved against the wall, placing an arm across Aurelian’s chest to push him against it as well. Around the corner up ahead he heard the sound of guards patrolling. It was the first sign of anyone else so far, and soon the sound ceased as they moved away. “Let’s go. The evidence room is just up ahead, and just beyond that is an exit.”

“Isn’t there guards?”

“Do you want your jewelry?” Aurelian sighed, nodding. “Then we go this way. And yes, there will be guards but I presume between my dagger and…well with my dagger and whatever you’ll be doing we’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have another dagger? Or anything?”

“No. I had to travel light to sneak in here, and one dagger gets the job done. Now stop whining and hurry up.” Aurelian sighed, rolling his eyes as he picked up the pace behind her. Here the hallway was far more lit, though dark shadows were still being cast from the two as they moved through. When they rounded a corner up ahead, Aurelian saw the guards she had spoken of. There were two of them, though judging from their demeanor they were certainly not expecting an outlander out of the cells.

“What the-Oren, sound the alarm! We’ve a prisoner loose!” One of the guards turned to move into the room behind him, opening the door whilst the other charged forward.

“Outlander handle this one, I’ll get the runner.” Aurelian turned, giving her a look as she withdrew her dagger. She paid him no mind as she ran forward, sliding under the guard’s blow to make into the room beyond. Aurelian was behind her, though was forced to stop himself as the guard turned his attention on him.

“You should have stayed in your cell outlander; you’d have lived longer.” Aurelian ducked under a wide swing, twisting his body to avoid a slice before ramming his fist into the man’s jaw. The guard stumbled back, groaning as he swung wildly to keep Aurelian back. They were sloppy blows, Aurelian reading them easily. Sensing an opening, he charged forward again, spotting a small scabbard at the guard’s side. He ducked under the man’s swing and, before the guard could bring his sword back, Aurelian unsheathed the dagger at the man’s side and brought it upwards across his chest.

The guard stumbled back, grasping the slice along his ribcage. He narrowed his eyes, moving to swing again before pausing. His sword clattered to the ground, the guard following close behind as Aurelian’s savior stood behind the man, dagger crimson with blood. Aurelian blinked, looking behind the woman into the open door. He spotted at least two bodies and a turned over table.

“I had him handled.”

“Yes, but why not pick up the pace a little; it’s not like we’re in a prison filled with guards who’d want us dead.” Aurelian rolled his eyes, bending down to pick up the guard’s sword before moving into the room behind her. He was mistaken in his earlier observation; there were three bodies including that of the guard who ran over, each with notable wounds to the throat, heart and other vital areas. He tip-toed his way over the bodies, looking for the evidence chest. It was, to his luck, there along the wall and as he propped it open, he saw immediately his jewelry.

“Ah, beautiful.” He quickly grabbed the torque and his earrings, placing both on. Immediately a sense of relief fell over him as the various scars he had faded, though the illusion did not stop there. Once again, his skin turned violet, the appearance of a Nightborne falling upon him again. Satisfied, he stood up and eyed the door at the other end of the room. “So that’s the exit?”

“Yes. Come on, let’s go.”

“Hold on. How are we supposed to reach Corvayon? Is he not guarded and protected?”

“Yes, but he plans to meet with one of Elisande’s agents in secret tonight. They’re meeting near the eastern canals, at one of the inns there.”

“Really? And how did you find that out?” At that she just gave him a blank look. “Ah right, ‘spy’. In that case, do you know which inn? I’m sure there are quite a few on the eastern canals, wherever that is.”

“Yes, I do. Now come on, we must move fast. It was dusk when I entered here and that was near an hour ago.” He extended his sword towards the door, the woman exiting the room with Aurelian quickly behind. It was another hallway in fact, though she had already started moving to the left. Down a series of corridors, they moved, until at last they came upon yet another room. Luckily, this one’s exit lead to the outside.

“Where are we?” Aurelian asked, looking around at the unfamiliar location. It was in Suramar of that he was certain judging from the architecture of the buildings, but not any part he recognized. Indeed, it looked as if he was in a back alley judging from the lack of any street light or people in general. There was also the off-putting smell of Sulphur and copper that nearly forced him to gag.

“A side entrance to the prison. Normally prisons don’t have one, but this was built to allow guards and demons to bring forth prisoners to be…shipped off in private. Initially they were brought out the front through the streets, but it unnerved the occupants of this district too much. Rather than risk civil unrest, they simply made a side door.”

“And there are no guards for such an entrance?”

“Most citizens keep a wide berth from this alley to begin with, but they do have guards here for potential rebel activity or the occasional miscreant. Like I said however, I relieved the guards of their duty. Now come, the eastern canals are some distance away and we have little time to spare.” Before Aurelian could question her she had already taken off, causing him to curse before he followed her.

As she had stated earlier it was indeed past dusk, the dark night providing a blanket of security to the two criminals. Neither spoke as both liberator and prisoner skulked in the shadows, avoiding the guards and demons as best they could. Once or twice a demon grew suspicious of them, though they quickly fled before it could investigate further. The prison break would not be known for some time, but even than it was best to play it safe.

“I’m surprised.” His jailbreaker said suddenly.

“About?”

“I didn’t think you’d be this…competent at sneaking through the city. You don’t strike me as the skulking type.” At that he gave a derisive snort.

“It is not the first time I have done something clandestine, though nothing as crude as assassination.” Luckily, she didn’t question what exactly he would have considered clandestine enough to sneak, for he had no desire to explain his various ‘adventures’ of his younger years. Instead she held up a hand, causing the two to stop. “What?”

“We’re near the inn.”

“Really? I did not realize we had been travelling for long.”

“At least an hour; it’s not far, we simply had to move slow. It should be the inn up around the corner.”

“What’s the name?”

“The Gilded Gelding.” He blinked at that, looking at her to see if he misheard correctly.

“That’s really the name? A bit of an unusual mouthful. Are you sure he’s there?”

“Only one way to be certain, right? Come on.” He rolled his eyes, debating for a moment to simply turn tail and run. There was nothing stopping him at this point, other than his pride at having been betrayed. Than again, it was his pride and so he found himself following after her. As they rounded the corner ahead, there was indeed an inn at the corner. In the dim streetlight Aurelian could make out a faint image of a golden horse rearing back, the name Gilded Gelding below it. They gave each other a look and a nod, before entering the inn.

The first thought Aurelian had was the inn was unimpressive in size and décor. It was a comfortable little place to be sure, and he could see stairs leading both up to the various rooms and a set leading to what seemed to be an opening to the outside world, but otherwise it held only several small tables and a bar table. Various hookahs and other recreational items lay strewn across, though they looked untouched. Indeed, the second thing Aurelian realized was that the inn was empty. Instinctively his hand moved to the hilt of his sword, having carried it at his side in leu of a scabbard.

“Where is anyone? Should an inn not have an innkeeper?” At that his compatriot nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Indeed; they must have been ‘asked’ to leave. I’ll check the upstairs if you want to check the balcony.” She pointed a hand towards the stairs across the room that led to the outside. Aurelian nodded, slowly stepping over the various items and rugs. His ears twitched instinctively as he heard his rescuer move up the stairs behind him, though his focus was forward. Each step was light on the stairway as he moved up, emerging onto a small balcony. On the balcony however Aurelian found someone, hands behind his back as he looked below into what Aurelian assumed was the canal, judging from the sound of water.

“Ah Illuria there you are. I was wonde- “as the man turned around, recognition dawned on both Aurelian and Corvayon’s features as they saw one another. Corvayon’s eyes immediately narrowed, withdrawing his sword from his scabbard. “You should be in prison, outlander.”

“I didn’t like the bed.” Aurelian readied his own sword, though his stomach was uneasy. He had been expecting Illuria, not one of Elisande’s agents. Aurelian was in a trap he realized, though the worst part was he did not know who had made it. Briefly his gaze darted to behind him where his rescuer was. There was a faint rush of air that rustled Aurelian’s hair, the man bringing up his sword just as Corvayon’s blade came down. In an instant the man had closed the distance, Aurelian’s training being the only thing that kept him alive. Aurelian parried away the blade, stepping back and holding his own sword in a loose grip.

“Not bad, Outlander. I have no idea how you escaped your cell, but I will be sure not to repeat my mistake again.” Briefly, Aurelian remembered Illuria’s words months before, on how Corvayon used magic to enhance his swordplay. Grimly, he realized this is what she had meant.

“Oh, not to worry you won’t. You dare to use me as a pawn in your games? I am Aurelian Indaris, lord of House Indaris…and I will be the one to kill you, blood of my blood.” Corvayon chuckled at that, sighing as he shook his head.

“Dear foolish blood; how incredibly naïve. You were a pawn before you even set foot in this city. To think, my father’s legacy beyond these walls led to someone like you; a pretender and a fop who is too blind in his arrogance to believe he is anything more than a tool.” Corvayon swung his sword before him, holding it off to the side. “En garde outlander.” With that, Corvayon stepped forward, his curved sword striking upwards.

Aurelian brought his sword to parry, only to gasp as he felt the blade slice across his side. Corvayon had moved to his side faster than Aurelian could notice, already vanished in a blur of motion. Aurelian turned, gripping his sword with both hands as his eyes glanced around in search of Corvayon. The hair on the back of Aurelian’s neck rose, and he turned to bring up his sword. Steel clashed against steel, nearly reverberating his blade from his hands with the force of the blow.

“What’s wrong, outlander? Can’t keep up? To think the nobles thought you were a competent swordsman at the tournament. So sloppy and unsophisticated.” Aurelian gave a huff of annoyance, swinging at Corvayon. His sword sliced through the air, Aurelian crying out as steel ran across his harm, drawing blood. Anytime he tried to strike at Corvayon he suffered another hit, which only furthered Aurelian’s frustration. Rather then being aggressive however, Aurelian decided to fight more defensively, striking only when the opportunity arose. Even still however Aurelian could not land a blow.

“Son of a bitch.” Aurelian muttered, readying his stance to parry again. If Corvayon had a pattern to his attacks Aurelian could counter him, but as of yet he showed none. Aurelian had no ways to negate Corvayon’s magic, and slowly but surely was losing ground to the man. More and more blows were landing on Aurelian, cutting through the thin fabrics of his clothes and biting into his flesh. Unfortunately, Aurelian knew very little arcane magic to match Corvayon.

A thought occurred to Aurelian then. He knew little arcane magic, this was true. Corvayon as well would probably expect such. What Corvayon didn’t know however was light magic, and Aurelian had been blessed with some knowledge of such power. Enough, he believed, to fight back. Slowly Aurelian readied himself, waiting for Corvayon’s next strike as he lowered his weapon.

“What’s the matter? Given up Aurelian? I’ll make this quick then.” Corvayon’s blade cut through the air, aimed for Aurelian’s neck. A brief flash of light forced the blade back however as Corvayon snarled, blinded by the intensity of the flash. Aurelian’s free hand emanated a soft glow from the spell, his other striking with the blade. For the first time the blade found contact as Corvayon stumbled back blinded, steel slicing into his shoulder blade.

“Now you’re mine.” Corvayon blinked rapidly, trying to regain his sight as Aurelian dove upon him. The sound of steel clashing rang through the air as Aurelian now had Corvayon on the back foot. It was precious seconds Aurelian earned, but it was hopefully enough. As Corvayon brought his sword downward Aurelian turned into it, slamming his shoulder against the man. The air was knocked out of Corvayon as he was pushed back against the stone balcony, his breath returning into as a gasp at the sound of fabric being torn and metal on stone. Corvayon looked down with clear eyes at the sword lodged into his chest, realizing the sound of metal on stone had been the tip of the sword piercing through him and slamming against the balcony.

“Wh-what?” Confusion was clear on Corvayon’s face as he slumped down, dropping his sword. Aurelian looked down in disgust at the man, curling his lip as he winced. He had suffered a number of blows at Corvayon’s hands, some of which would scar. The wounds would be hidden thanks to his torque, but the damage still lay underneath to his pride. Aurelian knelt despite the pain it caused him, smirking as he pushed against the pommel of his sword still embedded in Corvayon’s chest. The impaled lord of Indaris cried out in pain, blood oozing from the corner of his lip.

“You have your own magics, and I have mine. Sloppy and unsophisticated hmm? I think it turned out fine.” Corvayon’s hand rose, grabbing Aurelian’s shoulder as he struggled to speak. His gaze moved behind Aurelian, eyes widening in surprise.

“S-sister?” Aurelian turned around, noticing that Illuria stood there with arms crossed. Beside her were several guards and his rescuer, who held a crossbow in her hands now. “What have you…” Corvayon coughed, choking on his blood.

“Illuria?” Aurelian rose up, ignoring the dying Corvayon as he turned to face his relative. He realized he did not have his sword, eyes narrowed at the Nightborne party before him. He did not expect to see any of them here, nor for his rescuer to be armed with what he thought was an outlanders weapon. A cold chill ran up his spine then as Aurelian realized now who had created the trap.

“Aldronya, if you please.” Aurelian’s gaze turned to the servant who had rescued him, her crossbow aimed for Aurelian. He brought his hand up to try and ward off the bolt, his movement paused as a twang sounded out. A searing pain slammed into Aurelian’s chest, the crossbow bolt finding purchase in the man.

“You’re…behind this?” Aurelian stumbled backwards, wincing in pain from the bolt. Aurelian glanced from his wound to the woman who shot him, noticing strange red swirls around her right arm that he had missed earlier from her wearing the guard’s armor. Strangely his muscles began to feel unbelievably heavy, as if being pulled down by weights. He recognized the sensation, panic gripping him.

“Ah, blood of my blood. I am so sorry to have to do this, but I’m left with no alternative. Both you and my brother have played their parts in this, and thus I need to be rid of you both. Whoever won this little contest I arranged I would have to get rid of myself. Unfortunately, that’s you Aurelian. Right now, the poison in that bolt should be spreading into your nerve system, paralyzing muscles and leaving you unable to escape. You will die helpless, knowing you’ve been betrayed but being unable to do a thing about it.”

“You bitch.” Corvayon sputtered out from beside Aurelian, letting out a strange gasp as Illuria waved a hand at him. Aurelian glanced down at the man, eyes wide as arcane magic seemed to be exploding in the man’s open mouth with a sizzling, crackling sound. He fell back against the stone, eyes glazed over as life finally escaped him.

“Such uncouth language, brother. I expected more class. Aldronya, please shoot the outlander again.” Aurelian could barely move as he watched the servant load another bolt into her crossbow, though he spat in her direction.

“Spy huh?” Aurelian muttered out. Aldronya made a tsk sound as she readied her crossbow.

“I observe when I need to and kill when needed. It’s nothing personal.”

“Really? Then observe this.” Aurelian waved up his fingers, sending out another bright flash of light. The blinding force of it caused the Nightborne pause as they recoiled and hissed in anger, giving Aurelian time to use the last of his strength to all but fall over the balcony into the canal below. He hit the water hard, struggling to keep himself afloat even as the poison seeped into his blood. He felt something slam into his shoulder, gasping out in pain.

Water filled his lungs as the man slowly fell beneath the water, his muscles at last failing. He was drowning, he realized dimly. As he sank further and further into the murky water, there was nothing Aurelian could do. The lord of House Indaris was dying in a dirty canal, within a foreign city. How humiliating. The last thing Aurelian saw was a dark figure, a hand moving to grab him before everything went black.

[mermaidsirennikita]

May 2018 Book Roundup

I don’t know when I got so into thrillers--but here we are.  Of course, I’m not as into the types of thrillers that are about a cop pursuing a killer.  It’s more the insidious types of domestic thrillers that catch my attention, about idle suburbanites who secretly harbor paranoid minds and little hatreds.  That’s probably why I enjoyed “A Simple Favor” by Darcey Bell and Liv Constantine’s “The Last Mrs. Parrish”, however much they polarized readers.  They both feature horrible women, stupid men, unreliable narrators, and endings that don’t neatly tie up loose ends.  In other words, they’re perfect summer reads.

The Defiant by Lesley Livingston.  3/5.  The second in a series, The Defiant returns to the world of female gladiators and in particular Fallon.  Now triumphant and happy in a ludus run by her sister, Sorcha, Fallon expects to have it easier.  However, her life is upturned when the women of the ludus are accused of rebelling, and Sorcha goes missing.  I rated The Valiant, the first book in this series, four stars so I must have enjoyed it, but I also don’t really remember it, aside from the basic plot and being interested in Sorcha and Fallon’s relationship.  I would still say that the sister relationship is the core focus of the plot, which is different (and distracts from a fairly shallow romance between Fallon and Cai, a Roman soldier; there’s an opportunity for something cooler, but the author bypasses that completely).  But I think I’m over this series; this book drove home that it skews too young for me to enjoy it.  The gladiatrix thing is cool, but there’s so much in this book about how the ludus is home, and like... hasn’t everyone been enslaved by Romans to some degree?  Taken from their homelands?  Forced into a blood sport to be entertainment?  It’s fun, and I won’t say that it isn’t without merits, but this is too shallow for what it takes on.

Fatal Throne by Candace Fleming et. al.  4/5.  A collaborative novel from the perspectives of all six of Henry VIII’s queens--and Henry himself.  What impressed me about this book was how it wasn’t really straightforward.  It seems like it might be at first; Catherine of Aragon’s section kicks it off by detailing the beginning of Catherine’s life in England, up until her marriage is collapsing.  Now, don’t think that this makes it a bad story; I quite liked it.  Catherine of Aragon is, in this version, for once more than a stereotypical zealot queen, though the author does that thing where a character whose native tongue is Spanish constantly throws random Spanish words into English sentences, which doesn’t feel real.  But anyway; many of the other stories are less traditional.  All revolve around the queens’ downfalls or deaths; for example, Anne (or Anna, as she’s called here) of Cleves has a story that really centers around her dying days, and the ghosts of her past.  There’s a weird, haunting creepiness to everything.  Though there are some rather shallow moments--including one bit in the Anne Boleyn story that seemed... pretty off--and there isn’t any reinventing of the wheel, it’s a sad retelling of the wives’ story, where the central villain is undeniably Henry VIII.

Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian.  2/5.  Theodosia was a child when she was forced to witness the murder of her mother, the queen of Astrea.  Since then she’s been beaten and terrorized in the submission by the conquering Kaiser, forced to live as Lady Thora, the Ash Princess.  The combination of being forced to commit a terrible act and the reappearance of a childhood friend wakes Thora to the reality of her people’s suffering, and spurs her to action.  She’s given a task: seduce the crown prince, and kill him.  So yeah, pretty typical fantasy stuff, but that doesn’t mean it has to be bad.  What makes it bad is Theo’s flip-flopping as a character and a truly dismal love triangle.  Neither romance feels real, and Theo’s constantly between dithering and acting like... Stormborn-lite.  Oh, yes.  The GoT influence is strong in this one.  I just wish it had been more interesting.

Love and Ruin by Paula McLain.  3/5.  The turbulent romance between Ernest Hemingway and his third wife, writer Martha Gellhorn, is told from Gellhorn’s perspective.  I remember really liking McLain’s version of Hemingway’s first marriage, “The Paris Wife”, but that was so long ago that I can’t remember much of it.  And for that matter, that marriage--which occurred during Hemingway’s years as part of the Lost Generation in Paris--was a very different animal from what he shared with Gellhorn.  You get the expected beats--Gellhorn and Hemingway meeting, her being initially starstruck while harboring her own ambitions, their work during the Spanish Civil War, the affair that led to a marriage, and that marriage’s destruction because Hemingway was incapable of holding a decent relationship and Gellhorn’s fierce independence kept her from being the idealized wife he wanted--but while the writing is pretty... the expectedness keeps the book from being more than exactly what it is.  And though obviously Gellhorn was a good bit younger than Hemingway and obviously her love for him and hero worship of him allowed to overlook shit long enough to up and marry the guy...  I just don’t really buy that Martha Gellhorn would speak and act the way McLain seems to think she did.  She’s so over the top as a young woman in love.  The book is fine, it’s just uninspired.

Trespassing by Brandi Reeds. 4/5.  Veronica is at her wit’s end, caring for a toddler while her husband is often gone for work as a pilot, while at the same time pumping herself full of hormones for her fertility treatments in order to have a second child.  Still traumatized by the miscarriage she suffered recently, she is shocked when her husband, Micah, doesn’t come home--on the same day that their daughter claims that “Daddy went to God Land”.  Swept up in a mess of emotions and falling under suspicion from the police, Veronica flees with her daughter to the Florida Keys, where her husband had a house in her name.  But the island life presents even more questions.  Who are the children in the photos she finds, and why is Micah with them?  This is a solid, engaging thriller that somehow is at its most disturbing when you consider the fact that Veronica’s mind is rattled in part because of what she’s put her body through via fertility treatments.  Veronica is sympathetic, and rather than stupidly accepting things like thriller protagonists often do, she’s paranoid, protective, never quite trusting anyone.  Why should she?  While I won’t say that the reveal in the end is one of the best I’ve read, the story as a whole is very interesting, and I appreciated the fact that Reeds really delved into the mind of a woman with a bit of feminine body horror--like, in a sensitive way.  It’s different.  The book is as much about Veronica’s identity as anything else.

The Last Mrs. Parrish by Liv Constantine.  4/5.  Amber envies the lives of glamorous trophy wives, none of them more than Daphne Parrish.  Daphne has it all: a handsome, doting, extraordinarily wealthy husband, two daughters, and all of the possessions she could desire.  So she begins her plan: befriend Daphne under the guise of a homely, Pollyanna type and steal her life.  But as Amber becomes closer to Daphne, she constantly has to look over her shoulder for ghosts from her past that could disrupt her plan.  Little does she know that the real danger could be closer than she thinks.  This book was kind of disturbing and definitely does not have the type of ending that will leave you.... feeling morally good.  But it’s juicy. It’s Big Little Lies kind of juicy, about vaguely psychotic women with rich and famous lives.  Frankly, I would have appreciated more development of the female characters aside from Amber and Daphne, but the two of them were great as is.  You spend about half the book in Amber’s mind, and she is HEINOUS.  But in an interesting, darkly funny way.  The book isn’t going to be for everyone, but I found it extremely entertaining.

Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton.  2/5.  Marisol has never been to Cuba, the homeland her grandmother, Elisa, fled as a young woman.  She returns to scatter Elisa’s ashes after the death of Fidel Castro.  However, she didn’t expect to connect with Luis, a historian and dissenter in the current regime--nor did she expect to discover that her grandmother had an affair with a revolutionary.  This book has a lot to say about Cuban politics; and I value that.  But unfortunately, the political backdrop takes over the story, which is very paint by numbers.  Nothing surprising happens.  The characters are dry.  I wish I loved it, but I just didn’t.

From Twinkle, with Love by Sandhya Menon.  3/5.  Teenage Twinkle is an aspiring filmmaker, out of sorts as her relationship with her best friend Maddie--newly popular while Twinkle remains a bit of nerd--deteriorates.  She’s surprised when Sahil--the shy twin brother of her crush, Neil--asks her to collaborate on him on a gender-flipped version of Dracula, but it isn’t long before she’s starting to look at Sahil in a very different way.  At the same time, however, she’s corresponding via email with her secret admirer, N--who she very much suspects is Neil.  What is Twinkle to do?  I loved Menon’s debut, When Dimple Met Rishi, and I’m still very excited for the spinoff of that book.  It was a perfect little romcom.  This was not.  This book read much younger--and Twinkle and Sahil are a bit younger than Dimple and Rishi were.  But their voices were also VERY immature, and in general it just... missed the mark for me.  I think someone younger would love this book.  It did touch on several really great threads, especially with Twinkle’s family.  But I didn’t feel the same thing I felt with WDMR at all.

Furyborn by Claire Legrand.  4/5.  When her best friend Prince Audric finds his life endangered, Rielle saves him--exposing herself as capable of wielding all seven types of elemental magic.  There are two people foretold to have this gift; one will be a queen who brings light and salvation, while the other holds blood and destruction.  Put to the test in a series of trials, Rielle must prove exactly which one she is.  A thousand years later, bounty hunter Eliana is shocked to find her mother kidnapped, with the only person who can help find her being a rebel leader.  In joining up with him, Eliana defies the empire she’s worked for--and puts herself in terrible danger.  This book is an interesting one; the two narratives you’re following are focused heavily on their respective leads, and neither woman is traditionally “good”.  Eliana has the charm of being a tortured rogue, at least--Rielle is more complex, obsessed with adulation and self-centered to the point of callousness.  But I enjoyed both of them, with Eliana’s story picking up a few points over Rielle’s towards the end... which was a pleasant surprise, as at first I wasn’t sure if Eliana’s side of things would measure up to Rielle’s.  There is a lot amgoing on, so things can get a bit confusing--and this makes the middle drag a bit.  But the ending left me dying for more, with the only other complaint I can make being that Legrand could work on her sex scenes a tad.  But if you’re looking for a female-centered story with a few guys who are all about that undying devotion thing, plus a sexy villain and moral ambiguity, I recommend this one highly.

One Match Fire by Lissa Linden.  2/5.  Twelve years ago, Paul and Amy were camp counselors--and he broke her heart.  Now Amy is back to run the camp after Paul quits, though they don’t realize that they’ll be meeting up again until she’s at his door, physically different but emotionally still affected by what happened between them during their teen years.  Both frustrated and with few other options, they make a deal: until Paul leaves, they’ll have a purely sexual relationship.  But Paul wants to know what really has Amy rattled--and he doesn’t want to leave anymore.  I like romance, I like erotica--I wasn’t sure how to categorize this book, as most of it is graphic sex but I don’t know, the erotica bells weren’t quite ringing for me--but I still need stakes.  They don’t need to be fantasy stakes.  They don’t need to be thriller stakes.  It could be that the family business is about to go under; it could be that the leads are dueling lawyers.  STAKES.  This book has no stakes.  I thought that Paul did something super shitty when these (28 year old) people were kids, but like... it was a bit douchey, but tons of people were dicks to me in high school, I was a dick back, and I don’t remember much of it.  Certainly, I found Amy’s reaction a bit over the top.  At the same time, Paul was--very shortly into this sexual relationship--being like “give yourself to me emotionally Amy” and I was like lmao dude why y’all haven’t spoken there is no reason for you to be so invested in this woman.  He was so pushy, it really irked me.  The sex scenes were okay.  “Will these two people run a camp together” just wasn’t a big enough question to keep me interested.

A Simple Favor by Darcey Bell.  4/5.  Widowed, neurotic mommy blogger Stephanie has found the best friend of her dreams in Emily Nelson, a wealthy publicity exec with a handsome husband and beloved son Nicky, who happens to be the best friend of Stephanie’s son Miles.  So when Emily asks Stephanie for a “simple favor”--to watch Nicky for a few hours after school--Stephanie doesn’t hesitate to do so.  But when Emily doesn’t show to pick Nicky up--when she isn’t even home by the time her husband Sean returns from a business trip--Stephanie goes on red alert.  It isn’t long before the police find Emily’s body; and it also isn’t long before Stephanie begins taking her place.  As Stephanie begins receiving odd messages, the question is impossible to avoid: what really happened to Emily Nelson?  Alternating between Stephanie’s blog posts and the characters’ perspectives, “A Simple Favor” is one of those thrillers that is kind of balls to the wall insane.  You can expect to find that Emily wasn’t all that she appeared to be.  But Stephanie’s secrets are just as great, if not greater.  I’ve seen a common complaint regarding this book regarding the fact that none of the characters are good people.  For me, that just made it more delicious.  Emily is this enigmatic, alluring figure luring over the entire story, and you just can’t shake her appeal.

[aion-rsa]

Midnight Mass: The Real Life Event That Inspired the Show’s Climax

https://ift.tt/3mhK6Bs

This article contains spoilers for Midnight Mass.

Midnight Mass is the project that’s rattled around Mike Flanagan’s head the longest. According to the creator himself, Flanagan developed the central conceit of the faith-based horror story well before his horror career even began. The project has been fine tuned many times, first as a novel, then a movie, and now finally a Netflix series.

Though the details of Midnight Mass have changed over the years, two particular moments have remained immutable. The first is the opening scene in which protagonist Riley Flynn (Zach Gilford) kills someone in a drunk driving accident. The other is the scene that gives the series its name: the titular midnight Easter mass in which Monsignor John Pruitt a.k.a. Father Paul Hill reveals to his parishioners how they’re all going to live forever.

Read more

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If the latter scene felt familiar, it’s because there are no shortages of real life examples of religious congregations that believed they found the secret to eternal life. One such real life example though, proved to have an enormous impact on Flanagan and his producer Trevor Macy, and ended up being the main inspiration for how the show’s climactic events unfolded.

“Trevor and I share a fascination with Jonestown,” Flanagan told Den of Geek and other outlets. “The midnight mass Jonestown sequence has always been baked into the show. That’s the perfect example of the most grotesque perversion of faith.”

If you’re unfamiliar with Jonestown, first off: congratulations on all the nightmares you’ve avoided. There are many superb sources to learn more about the massacre, with my personal favorite being the…let’s say irreverent, but still respectful, five-part series from horror podcast Last Podcast on the Left. To describe it in the simplest of terms: Jonestown was a mass suicide of hundreds of people (though increasingly now thought of as a mass homicide) undertaken for political and religious reasons.

Jonestown’s real name was The Peoples Temple Agricultural Project. It was a 3,000-acre plot of land purchased in Guyana by the religious sect known as the Peoples Temple of the Disciples of Christ. The Peoples Temple began in 1954 as a peaceful Christian denomination with a distinct left wing ideology that supported socialist and communist causes in the United States. It also had a particular emphasis on racial equality and its congregation was fully integrated, making it a rarity among its Midwestern Christian peers.

Ultimately, the Peoples Temple became more radical and operated as a cult of personality under its charismatic founder and leader Jim Jones. By the time the Peoples Temple moved to “Jonestown” in 1976 to build its socialist utopia, it was seen by many as a cult that was holding a large portion of its followers against their will. This culminated with U.S. Congressman Leo Ryan paying a visit to the Jonestown settlement at the behest of some of the Peoples Temple’s family members. Ryan was shot and killed on a Guyanese airstrip by Peoples Temple adherents while he and his party were preparing to leave.

Ryan’s murder was a point of no return for Jones and his settlement. Jones gathered the rest of his congregation in the Jonestown pavilion to drink from a large metal tub filled with Flavor Aid and a lethal concoction of poison in an act of “revolutionary suicide.” 909 individuals died from drinking the poison, making the Jonestown Massacre the single biggest instance of deliberate loss of human life in American history until the September 11 terror attacks.

Though it’s now more frequently contextualized as a mass murder due to Jones’s influence in directing the event and the fact that the pavilion was surrounded by armed guards who would haved killed anyone attempting to leave anyway, Jonestown loomed large as in the American cultural imagination as the ultimate consequence for groupthink for decades. This is where the phrase “drink the Kool-Aid” comes from, despite the fact that the poison cocktail was mixed with Flavor Aid. It’s that lasting perception of Jonestown that had the biggest impact on Flanagan and ultimately Midnight Mass.

“The parents helping their kids drink poison – I found it so monstrous and hard to understand,” Flanagan says. “How could sane people be brought to a place where they do that? These events are so hard to understand but we keep doing it. It’s something we humans are capable of doing and seem to be capable of stopping.”

Jonestown’s influence is most acutely felt at the end Midnight Mass’s sixth episode “Book VI: Acts of the Apostles.” After Bev Keane (ugh, the worst) passes out plastic cups of rat poison to the congregation, Leeza Scarborough’s parents encourage her to drink the draught of death and leave her mortal form behind. She doesn’t and is thankfully one of only two citizens to make it off of Crockett Island alive. But many other people – some of them children – do not. 

Real life events like Jonestown and another religiously motivated mass suicide, Heaven’s Gate, helped Flanagan understand that reality can be more terrifying than fiction. 

“You have to believe…truly believe that you are not dying in that moment. At least not in a meaningful and permanent way,” Flanagan says.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

The parishioners of St. Patrick’s on Crockett Island truly believed that they wouldn’t die upon drinking their rat poison. They just so happened to be right…at least until the sun came out. It turns out that even afterlives have endings.

The post Midnight Mass: The Real Life Event That Inspired the Show’s Climax appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2Won5Ug

[mcjuggie]

goosebumps (1/2 of part one)

authors note: i’m trying to see if i like writing fic so if anyone reads this and has some feedback/thinks it’s alright/should continue lmk and i’ll keep doing it! this is a kind of horror-inspired, IT/spooky scary retelling of the story they’re doin’ and i’m taking a ton of liberties all over the place. 

it’s also on ao3 for shits and giggles. 

http://archiveofourown.org/works/13131960 

Chapter 1

Summertime in Riverdale.

Everyone knew the ads, the ones that ran right before the news and located on the sides of busses. Featuring laughing kids jumping into Sweetwater River at high noon, the sun blazing and every single one of them featuring a smile. The ads that highlighted hiking and eating at the charming local diner. Until the edit a few months ago they had a shot of people enjoying the now-defunct Twilight Drive-In, but the mayor had been wise enough to call for a new commercial in time for summer and reshoots had taken place while the water had still been freezing.

Now it featured the familiar faces of Riverdale’s youth; the bright eyed Josie and the wide-grinned Chuck. Characters in their drama last year, now nameless smiles advertising how great the summer in their little town was. Watching Cheryl Blossom drink a chocolate shake and smile wide into the camera every day while you were mindlessly trying to numb the outside world with TV was a little cruel.

Summertime meant no weekly Blue and Gold. It meant no school work. It meant a lot of spare time that had been previously filled with trying to solve the local murder mystery, but after that had dissolved away it had left Betty Cooper with nothing to do. It was amazing how much working as a detective trying to solve the Black Hood murders had taken up of her, and as the rain faded away into the light and the sun took over for the coming months, she had found herself so… bored.

Antsy. Irritated. Anxious.

Repeatedly she had told herself it was in her head, and tried to find normalcy. Normalcy like those parties, the ones in the middle of a field in the middle of nowhere thrown by someone you hated. In this case it was one Chuck Clayton who had driven his truck into the farmer’s fields with a couple of speakers ready in the bed. The text had gone out to everyone’s phones with coordinates, and thus the party would be taking place under the moon.

The night before, Betty Cooper had joined every other student in the traditional celebration for kids in small towns; a bonfire. Burning bright with the textbooks and papers of the year past, they had all danced and drank the usual fare of a few liquor bottles in paper bags and cans of coke. The fire was to cleanse away the school year, and she too had tossed away a few things into the fire, but something had distracted Betty that night,

Flipping through the channels, she did try her best to ignore the memory, as her focus drained on the fake drama of the reality show she’d been watching,

It nagged her; the eyes that she’d seen in the woods by the fire. It felt foolish, but every time Betty went back to that memory her blood would run impossibly cold. There had been so many people there that night, but Betty could have sworn she had seen something else,

Something much darker,

The deep, vacant eyes. Dead was not the word she could have used, as when she thought of them her mind would wander to terrible things, things that Betty couldn’t imagine that she had inside; it felt like the world had started to burn around her, the miserable way that staring into the eyes of this stranger. The destruction that she felt capable of terrified her, possessed with ideas she’d previously had thought ridiculous to her.

The impossible black holes in the midst of the forest, set in the middle of a face with an unreadable expression. The quiver of their lips was enough to make Betty’s knees with fear, the kind of pure anger that the muscle in their mouth managed to make,

“Archie?” The unreal red hair, but nothing else made sense and even equating the two had made Betty scared then.

It’s almost like she could remember laughter bursting out to make her lose focus, but her memory became fuzzy. The rest of the party seemed to happen as normal, and she woke up in her bed just as expected. Yet she couldn’t remember any conversations she’d had, or any faces of the people who had been there,

When she tried to remember, their faces became blurs, unreadable and featureless holes just as the eyes were. Focusing too long, and she could almost feel the same thing. Looking back to the same place where he had been, and he was gone,

It would have been a nightmare, but she had woken up with photos from the night before at the bonfire. Moments she couldn’t remember,

She felt stolen away, almost.

Betty Cooper didn’t believe in things like this, though. Investigation into things like town corruption was one thing, but falling into traps like being abducted by aliens were things that Alice Cooper had quantified as a waste of everyone’s time a very long time ago. Betty had vivid memories of Hal’s rants on anyone who wanted a Haunted Riverdale section added to the paper; on how delusional these wackos were for thinking that there was any such thing as ghosts. Next thing you know, and they’ll be wanting a Witch Watch.

Hal had thought that was clever, Betty was sure; but it had killed whatever early interest she might have had with the paranormal or strange. Though the mysteries might have called to her, she did think it was beneath what she was capable of covering; Riverdale might have been a black pit, but it wasn’t that kind of black pit.

Right?

If Jughead Jones was going to end up in a black pit, he was going to take some notes.

He was in the midst of trying to anyway, and it was starting to make him feel a little insane. Attempting to write down an event that most people were going to disagree on what it could have been; some people might have said aliens and some might have said ghosts. Hell, some people had been responding to forum posts with stories of the Mothman. Jughead couldn’t be sure, but he wasn’t going to just let Reddit decide alone. Whatever it was, it was strange,

Riverdale was home to the strange, and it was starting to influence the way his writing would take form. For one thing, Jughead had started to draw now; not having much of a hand for it, the crude explanations for the faceless versions of his friends had gone up on the wall of his father’s trailer immediately. Pasting them up with scotch tape to stare at the pieces of the night.

Just blurs; charcoal pencil pressed around the distinct long cherry hair, the definitive curls and cat ears. The sculpted coif of black hair. The missing faces of everyone… charcoal masses, the pencil scrawled back and forth to try and identify what he’d seen;

Verbally, and on paper, he would describe it was a ‘macabre smudging of the faces of my friends’ but he didn’t know if people would get it really.

Not that he didn’t have those copies. Jughead had been journaling every version of the event that he could for days now; so far that had mostly meant asking Archie what happened. Of course what happened to Archie Andrews was that he had drank a little from a paper bag, danced with Veronica, and then went home to his bed and woke up none the wiser,

Reggie, same story.

The more people he texted, the more crazy he was starting to feel. The same placid answers that filled his heart with doubt and made Jughead unsure of himself, despite whatever convictions he was trying to gain.

Nobody saw it, but he couldn’t forget it. The eyes that knew, every horrible thing he had ever thought. It knew and more, it felt like it could bloom things inside of his brain. Jughead had done things he wasn’t proud of in the name of those he loved, more than most would, but he felt anger boil over in his system. It pained him, ached in his heart and made his body feel like it was going to shut down.

The deep, black eyes, and that grin,

Jughead hadn’t stopped drawing because he had already written every version he could think of to try and describe what he’d seen. The horrific squint around the black holes that felt like they were sucking in the forest around it, and the mouth that when he tried to read the expression of, he could feel his jaw tighten. Muscles that suddenly felt like they could have burst,

That laugh that felt like lashes on his back, stoking a furious anger that rose in his throat like bile.

For once in his life, he wasn’t sure how to describe it using his words; nothing felt right. So he was labouring over the line of the mouth, trying to demonstrate the right curve that could simulate the same reaction, egging something on that he didn’t even know he had inside of him. It truly scared him.

Then the laugh. The one that rattled through the air like a stench, that lingered even as his memories started to intrude on each other. Everything else was just drinking, with the faceless versions of his closest friends that filled him with a sense of unease.

Except,

“Betty,” It had been the only face, so he hadn’t really needed to draw or describe it. Trying to remember her was never painful, not even in the midst of what felt like a bad drug trip; she was as beautiful that night as she always had been, and she too had seemingly been looking at the very same thing he had. The same black holes staring out at them,

They often saw what others couldn’t together, so it didn’t surprise Jughead to learn that this had been no exception.

But they had been forced apart for the rest of the party, and that much Jughead was sure of. None of the people he tries to remember even resemble her, nothing close to the halo of blonde hair that he wants to see. The only moment connected to being lucid is with her, and he can’t find any other moments with her in it. It’s the only part of his memories from that night that doesn’t cause his body to start to react and go into that same state of shock and anger.

Betty is like an anchor, but he can’t find her nearly enough. A truth that could apply to so much of Jughead’s life when he tries to meditate on it.

Yet he stared at his phone, eyeing the crack in the corner instead of the call button and leaving her contact open but unused. It felt like he was dragging her into yet another thing. 

Something else she could do without, a thought bitter as he palmed over the leather of his jacket. Tossing his phone and himself into bed, his nightmares are horrific and he wakes up in a sweat more than once.

He wonders if hers are the same, instead of asking. 

c!

[ionlysleepwiththebest-blog]

(Puts on tinfoil death frisbree) Lets deduce this shizzam

John has been shot by Eurus. Everything in TFP is metaphorical and a mirror to when Sherlock was shot. Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it:

1.) Everything is subconscious. 

John is basically hallucinating or dreaming everything, as he is in shock. He (like Sherlock) has retreated to the furthest depths of his mind to escape the pain or trauma of being shot. This is why certain things within the episode make little or no sense. It’s all a dream and everything that happens is either due to a subconscious decision or for the convenience to John as he experiences everything. It’s no secrete that John enjoys horror or action movies. For his pleasure and convenience, he hallucinates/dreams of different movies mixing with the scenes (i.e the messages and the home videos playing within a movie; the clown and little girl from IT and The Shining; the umbrella/sword/gun weapon; grenade and explosions from Bond movies; Eurus practically being Jigsaw; et cetera). John is trying to surround himself with feelings of pleasure (apparently he never thought to hallucinate he and Sherlock shagging  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) so he comforts himself with things that are familiar to him and what he desires (scaring Mycroft; Mrs Hudson being a BAMF; Sherlock claiming that John is family; et cetera). It works for the first scenes but then he can’t hold on. This is basically all mirrored to when Sherlock was shot. He surrounded himself with Redbeard and delved deeper to escape. But what happened when he went deeper? That’s right - Sherlock had to meet his inner demon. This is parallel to John. He comforts himself as best as he can but when it becomes to much, he goes in deeper.

John Watson meets his demons. And he has three.

2.) The demons within John Watson

Now I know what you’re thinking: Three demons?! The fuck is this bullshit? Let me explain. The hallucinations of Eurus, Mycroft and John himself are his demons. But to avoid any further confusion, I’ll just refer to them as Demon E, Demon M and Demon J. All three demons are what John fears the most about himself. Let’s start with Demon J.

Demon J represents John’s inability to protect. During the first experiment; Sherlock is reluctantly forced to pass the gun to John. In order for another to live, John must first take a the life of the lover. But John can’t. Even though the man asks and pleads; John cannot do it. Why? Because the man was defenseless. This isn’t like the cabbie in ASiP. This isn’t like the tall guy in TBB. This isn’t like the dog in THoB. The man John is to shoot is not harming or threatening anyone. He is defenseless and afraid. Throughout the whole time, John tries to tell himself and the man he is doing the right thing. But he cannot kill a defenseless man. He isn’t protecting anyone because there is no threat from the man. It goes against his morals. But in the end, he fails. Because John could not take the life of one, two had to die. And this is Demon J. Failure to do the right thing. An inability to protect. Failure to save or help anyone. This is his demon and it has been shown before. When? you ask? Simple, TGG. He tries to trade his life for Sherlock’s. But he fails. Look at his face when the sniper aims at Sherlock’s head. Look at it closely. That is the look of anguish. The look of failure. He didn’t protect anyone. He didn’t do the right thing. He didn’t help or save anyone. This is what he fears. This is his demon. And you wanna know something? This is similar to Sherlock when he got shot. When Sherlock was hanging with Moriarty, the demon inside of him taunted Sherlock of how pathetic he was and how he failed because John was in danger and he couldn’t save him. Sherlock’s demon was taunting him about his inability to protect john. But Sherlock wakes the fuck up because thE POWER OF LOVE FUCKERS.

Now lets talk about Demon M. Oh boy, this is a doozy.

Demon M represents weakness and fright. Plain, old weakness and plai, old fright. I found it amusing he pins this one on Mycroft actually. Oh well, I mean - you gotta get your kicks even when you’ve been shot, right? But that isn’t really the whole story. John is using Mycroft because this is how he sees the man. Don’t get me wrong -John knows what Mycroft is capable of. He knows that Mycroft isn’t a cuddle bear. But in this case, Mycroft is who he believes is best to represent his demon with. Though Mycroft has a hard exterior, beneath that is a scared, terrified man. John sees this. Hell, he said as much during their first meeting:

Mycroft: You don’t seem very afraid

John: You don’t seem very frightening

John isn’t saying this to intimidate Mycroft (okay... maybe he is a little bit). He’s saying it because he can see through the man facade. He can see through the tough exterior. John was in the fucking war. He’s most definitely come across men like Mycroft before. Men who show a hard face but are whimpering puppies when shit hits the fan. Hell, Perhaps John was once like Mycroft himself. But then the war came and he dropped the bravdo. Granted, Mycroft is better then most at controlling his emotions and does well to hide his fear. But he is not the iceman people believe him to be. This is why John uses Mycroft to express Demon M. Because Mycroft is most suited to that Demon. This is another parallel to Sherlock. Only differences were that his Mycroft was cold, calculating and indifferent and he was instead acting as an angel to Sherlock rather than a demon. Sherlock chose to represent Mycroft like this because he believed that these characteristics fitted perfectly to his brothers character. Despite all of his deducing powers, Sherlock could not see what he brother truly was, and instead assumed he already knew. But no, John sees it all. And he applies this to himself. Because weakness is his demon. Demon M is about the weakness and fright shining through the steel. The kink in the chain. Does Demon M show? Yep. TBB, John has a gun aimed at him. He panics and tries to get a hold of himself but he can’t quite cope can he? Not until Sherlock shows anyways. Weakness. Terror. He was trying to fight it; trying to fight Demon M but he couldn’t. Want another example? Why not the best one yet? THoB. Sherlock convinces John that there is a literal hound hunting him and John literally loses it. He tries to get himself under control - watch the episode if you don’t believe me! - but he can’t. He is afraid, he is weak. And he hates this. Because what use is he to anyone if he is weak and afraid?

And finally ladies and gentle or whatever you identify yourself as (i personally like to think of myself as a blueberry)... Demon E. Oh fucking boy.

Demon E was difficult to identify. Chaos? Sadistic behavior? Obsession? Nope, nada and close but completely wrong. This demon is very complex. But do you know what it really represents? The fear of being left alone. Demon E is the representation of monophobia. Hear me out. In the end, what does Eurus want? For someone to help her land her plane. She’s all alone in the sky; no one to help her. Sherlock says as much:

Sherlock: ... Your high above us all, alone in the sky and you understand everything except how to land.

Demon E is a very complex demon. And its the worse of John. Why? Because he doesn’t want to be left alone. Go back to the war. Think of when John was shot. He was in pain, warfare and death surrounding him. People are beside him, but they are not with him. He is above them all, alone and scared. He thinks he going to die and there is no one to help him. When you think about it, this demon is shown in the very first episode. John is alone in an apartment; suffering PTSD in a dream. He doesn’t seem to be eating well. He looks suicidal. This demon has haunted him for a long time. Perhaps even in his childhood. But I’ll focus on that later. Demon E is the worst of the three. Why? Because it affects John so harshly. Remember TRF? John went back to his therapist. His therapist who he probably hasn’t had the need to greet in months; years even. But Sherlock left him alone. Sherlock left him to his greatest demon. You might be thinking: Yeah, but he has other friends. Lestrade? Mrs Hudson? Mycroft? Molly? Sarah? Harry? No. It was not them who first cured John of his demon. It was not them who helped lock away Demon E. It was Sherlock. Sherlock who never left John alone. Who was there when John needed someone. He never abandoned John for anything. Hell, Sherlock invited him on their first case. He refused to let anyone keep John out of the crime scene. For the sake of LGTB fan fiction; he let John move in with him. Why? Because Sherlock knows what its like to be alone. When Sherlock was with his demon, he was alone. When he was shot, he had Molly, Mycroft and Anderson to help him get out of shock. When he was escaping the pain and the shock he had Redbeard. But there was no one there for him when he confronted his demon. And I suspect he has been facing this demon for a while. It was this demon that most likely influenced his addiction. But he locked his demon away. He had Molly, Mycroft and Lestrade. But who did John have? No one. Until Sherlock came and saw. But then TRF happened and John was left alone again. But Mary came and fixed him. Not totally mind you - John was still fighting his other demons. When Sherlock came back, what was John’s initial argument? That Sherlock left him alone; in the dark for three years. And does anyone remember John in TLD? Demon E is the biggest and most fearful demon of John’s. And its what clouds him and causes so many harsh scenarios as he lays on the ground, shot and alone.

3.) Fighting the demons

Alright. Enough angst. Lets get to some better things. And then I’ll bring in the other angst. Despite having these demons, John Watson fights them. But wait! you cry, How does John fight them? In the episode he doesn’t confront any of them! And John in the hallucination himself is a demon! Explain yourself! Alright, I will. John does fight his demons. But not as himself. No, he is playing the game here, and he has lost most of his pieces due to being shot. But he still has one piece left - the knight. His knight. That’s right; Sherlock Holmes. Throughout the whole hallucination/dream, it is Sherlock who fights and contains John’s demons.

Demon J: Sherlock tells Demon J its alright after he could not shoot the man. He confronts the demon and reminds him (soldiers today!). This all plays on as the demon slowly realizes; You cannot protect everyone. Sherlock couldn’t save the two innocent Garridebs, but he moved forward. And at this moment (you can literally see it on Demon J’s face) he knows. You cannot save everyone. And it maybe tragic, but in the end you have to move forward and be ready to protect in the future.

Demon M: Literally tells this demon to shut the fuck up every time it opens its mouth. Look to the scene with the first experiment. Sherlock literally says it straight to the demon. Anytime Demon M shows weakness, Sherlock objects towards it. Eventually, he turns the demon on itself - he makes the demon brave instead of weak. Its in the scene when the demon is down-sizing John in order to make Sherlock act aggressively and shoot him. Sherlock has literally made the demon turn itself away from cowardice and into bravery.

Demon E: Terminates the demon in the end. He confronts this demon and it tells it: Open your eyes... I am here... You are not lost anymore... He confront Demon E and he fucking tells it that it isn’t alone anymore. In other words, he confronts John Watson’s biggest fear and kills it. He saves John from his most dreaded demon. He saves John from being alone.

Sherlock is John’s most prized and valued piece in the game. And it isn’t hard to see why. In the whole of this hallucination/dream John used Sherlock to clear away the enemies pieces and become victorious. And you know something? It was John Watson that brought Sherlock back from the dead and caused him to ignore his inner demon. Its a mirror.

4.) The story of John Watson and The Final Problem

Note that this is all based off of metaphorical thinking and structure. I’m not saying that I know any of this for certain and I am probably digging way to deep. But I want to write this anyway. So I basically took what I saw and made metaphor and theories behind it. Here goes nothing.

John Watson is bisexual. He always was, and knew this from when he was little. The friendship between Sherlock and Victor are a representation of this. Sherlock is John and Victor is the Bisexuality. John accepted his sexuality preferences. But then something happened. And Eurus was born. Child Eurus is a representation of hate. And when looking at what child Eurus is wearing (the pale cream jumper from season one), I can safely say that John accepted this hate as apart of him. Child Eurus hated Victor - i.e. the hate inside of John started to affect his acceptance with his sexuality. Child Eurus wanted Victor to go away - John no longer wanted to be bisexual or he was scared to be bisexual. Child Eurus forced Victor down a well and left him to die - John shoved his sexuality preferences deep, deep down inside of him and refused to let it resurface. Sherlock looked for Victor, tried to find his friend using the code child Eurus gave him - John wanted to be himself again, but could not bring himself to find his sexuality so he made a false sexuality for himself. Sherlock never found his best friend - John never allowed himself his sexuality again. But Sherlock grew up and he found a new playmate - John met Sherlock and found himself unable to hide his feelings.

Told ya I was bringing the angst back. Ready for some hardcore shit now?

Remember when Mycroft said he once caught child Eurus slitting her wrists to “see how the muscles worked”? And then he asked her if she felt pain and her answer was: “Which one’s pain?” Yeah, what does child Eurus represent again? Hate. Do you ever wonder why we never see John’s arms? Not once within the entire series? Yeah...

Feel that angst? They weren’t kidding when they said Season four was dark. I’m not even done yet.

So it got to the point where the hate overpowered John into self-mutilation (btw if anyone suffers from this, stop. Harming yourself fixes nothing. Please, I beg you, seek help). But do you know what’s worse? He doesn’t know which is more painful - the cutting or... the other feelings? So what happened? I think I know... But remember this is all based off of metaphors okay?

Remember the conversation between Eurus and Sherlock when the truth about Victor was revealed?

Sherlock: You killed him... You killed my best friend...

Eurus: I never had any friends.

Remember, Eurus is Demon E; the demon that represents monophobia. How long ago did John have this demon? I think ever since his childhood. He wasn’t accepted into society because of his sexual preference. He was alone. He never had any friends all because of his bisexuality. And that was how child Eurus was born. The hate, it consumed John. It forced him to change. I think that’s why John is always so defensive when someone accuses his sexuality. Because he’s scared. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to be alone anymore. And you know what? He isn’t alone.

In the final scenes of TFP John is trapped down a well. Sherlock is in a box and Demon E is waiting. And this is the perfect metaphor. Such a clever little metaphor.

John is trapped in the well with his feet chained and finds Victors bones = John is forced to greet his sexuality which he thought he killed long ago deep down and cannot escape from this encounter. Notice how he doesn’t know what the bones are at first? = He forgets what this once felt like. He finally realizes what the bones are = he comes to terms with the emotion inside of him. The water around him is increasing = he’s running out of time to decide what to do. Sherlock saves him by defeating Demon E and he tosses down the rope for John to climb out = John realizes his love for Sherlock which allows him to be free of his shackles and climb out of the deep hole he once made. In other words, John finally accepted himself.

Sherlock breaks out of the box = love breaks free from its containment within John. Sherlock has to first work out the riddle to Eurus = In order for John to see, he needs to use Sherlock as his final chest piece and defeat his final and most ferocious demon. Sherlock figures out the riddle and calms Eurus = Sherlock defeats the demon once and for all. Sherlock finds John and rescues him = Now that his demons are defeated thanks to his knight, John is free to be himself.

5.) The truth about Sherlock and John

JOHNLOCK TIME YA’LL. Okay, so lets go back to Demons. Don’t worry, we’re going to ignore Demon J and Demon M. Demon E is all I’m going to focus on. 

Alright, lets get something clear. In this hallucination/dream, John is a spectator and a player to the game. This halucination/dream is a metaphorical game between John and his demons. His demons have many pieces at their disposal, but John only has one: Sherlock (his knight). With that out of the way, we can now move forward. 

Okay, lets retreat back to conscious John for a second. Or rather, reality. So far John has been fighting the pain and shock. Like a game of chess really. He’s moving his piece (Sherlock) wisely. And he has been doing a very, very good job. Except when its time to go to Sherrinford. See, Sherrinford is just a convenience for John. Something to use for Eurus. Metaphorically speaking, Sherrinford is just simply a place where John tried locking up his Demon E. He tried putting it within the highest security; in the middle of nowhere; on a small island. But it doesn’t work, does it? In the end Demon E escapes. So now, lets apply this to reality. John Watson is doing well; he’s comforted himself with amusing and pleasurable things. But he has to go deeper. The pain is getting worse and the shock is getting closer. So, what does John do? He pulls a “Sherlock”  and runs down to the deepest parts of himself. Straight into his demons. You know, doesn’t Mycroft say something like

Mycroft: Memories can resurface; wounds can reopen. The roads we walk have demons beneath... And yours have been waiting for a very long time.

Huh... Funny how he says that and literally not even five minutes later their off to Sherrinford.

So they go to Sherrinford and Sherlock goes to confront Eurus. John is sending his most prized and valuable piece to confront his demon. Only, Demon E is a more efficient player than John. And for one reason only: it holds what John fears. Monophobia. The fear to be alone. And it uses this against him. It’s starting to corrupt his mind. It’s starting to make John fall into its hands much like Sherlock’s demon taunted and teased him. So when John goes to move his piece back (the Vatican Cameos) Sherlock does not comply. John as a spectator and player is losing the game. Then Demon E hands Sherlock a violin; an instrument that could well and truly be a representation of Sherlock’s heart and thoughts. After all, Sherlock plays when he is thinking or troubled with something. Demon E tells Sherlock to play his him. Sherlock plays what John would consider his favorite song, but Demon E ain’t having none of that shit. At this point, its safe to say that Demon E has almost fully corrupted John’s mind. Its planting its little seeds of doubt. So its no surprise when Sherlock play’s Irene theme because despite all the clue’s and Irene admitting that she is gay, John thinks that Sherlock still loves her. 

(Btw if you ship Adlock, I’m not trying to downsize your ship. I once loved Adlock as well and in no way a I saying that you cannot ship it. I’m just using my opinion is all and I will never, ever say anything bad about anyone else’s ship. But for now, just for convenience and because I truly believe in Johnlock I’m going to say Sherlock does not feel about Irene in that sense. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.)

As soon as Demon E hears this, it asks if Sherlock has had sex. Demon E wants to rub salt into the wound. John, as a spectator and player of this hallucination/reality is forced to watch everything Demon E says and does. And now, Demon E is proving how lonely John really is. Sherlock is playing the theme of Irene Adler; not Bach or his wedding song. He is playing the song of the woman. And then the question of sex. Demon E is using it’s pieces efficiently. It’s cutting down John and cornering Sherlock. Then more taunting and finally capture. Demon E has turned the tables. Instead of it being locked away, it captured John’s only valuable piece for the game and now used two of its own (Demon J and Demon M) to subdue it. Because this is not enough for John can still play the game it uses its other pieces at hand. The experiments. However, the first two experiments barely deter Sherlock as John moves his knight around them to avoid capture. But then Demon E has something special in store. The third experiment is what truly hurts him.

Molly Hooper’s relationship with Sherlock is something that John cannot grasp. After all, it was her who helped him with TRF. And this experiment breaks him. He doesn’t hate Molly Hooper. He is just... curious about the relationship she shares with Sherlock. And Demon E uses this to its advantage. It puts Molly Hooper in danger. In other words, it uses a piece against his knight - a personal piece - and traps it. And what was John to do but to use the only solution so he could continue playing and spectating? He was forced to admit to himself that Sherlock loved Molly Hooper. And this crushes him. Because, right before him; Demon E has shown him how lonely he is. How easy it was to turn his knight; his own piece against him. And it breaks him. That’s not even the worse part. No, the worst part about all this was it wasn’t even a real trap. Demon E just faked a trap so John would have to admit and realize how pathetic and alone he is. That is why Sherlock smashes the coffin. Because John is furious with himself and this piece that Demon E used. So he plays his piece to destroy the experiment. To destroy the Demon E’s piece. Only it doesn’t solve anything. The pain is still there.

But that all changes with the next experiment. Because John refuses to be played any longer. He wants this game to end. And how does he do it? By surprising Demon E; he purposely puts himself in checkmate. In other words, Sherlock commits suicide. But Demon E isn’t finished with the game. It wants to keep playing. So it cheats and brings back John’s past. But John still wins in the end. He realizes that Demon E has now run out of pieces to use. So now is the time for checkmate. A white knight against a dark knight. Demon E tries to throw him off track with his past, but John simply counters with his piece. He uses Sherlock to exploit the Demon and wins the game, as stated in point 3.).

6.) Eurus, Moriarty and Redbeard

Alright final point. Eurus and Moriarty meeting five years ago did happen. That is probably the only truthful thing about this whole crazed episode. But they did meet. After all, who else could have put Eurus in touch with Culverton? How many mutual friends does she have?

Redbeard is also real. Though I’m not quite sure what to write on it. But Redbeard is definitely real.

Okay, I’ve spent about two hours writing this. I need food and tea.

Enjoy it people!

[albertoajman-blog]

THE MIST

(from November 2007)

Frank Darabont's been around a lot longer than most people think or give him credit for.  After his '83 short "The Woman In The Room," from the Stephen King short story, he worked with Chuck Russell on a couple scripts (Nightmare on Elm Street 3 and the kickass Blob remake in '88) and wrote the original script for Kenneth Branagh's overblown Frankenstein - remember, with Robert DeNiro as the monster?  But then Darabont came out of the gate swinging with his feature directorial debut, The Shawshank Redemption.  To say that the movie is well-thought of and admired is to abuse understatement.  His follow-up, The Green Mile, wasn't as universally beloved but was a solid hit and gave him a perfect .1000 batting average when it came to adapting Stephen King period prison tales.  After 2001's disappointing The Majestic, Darabont has returned to script and direct yet another King story, but this one. . .well, an uplifting, feel-good triumph of the human spirit this ain't.  No, he's decided to tackle a straight up horror flick this time out; The Mist is an unapologetic monster romp and Darabont proves yet again that he's got the goods to bring the master's works to the big screen with consistent skill and style.

There's a big storm coming to Castle Rock, Maine.  Artist David Drayton (Thomas Jane) finds this out first hand, when the nor'easter tears into his lakeside home late one night and causes all sorts of damage.  The next morning, David takes his young son Billy (Nathan Gamble) and their seasonal neighbor, big city lawyer Brent Norton (Andre Braugher) into town to get food as well as supplies to clean up.  Once they reach the crowded supermarket (apparently there's many similarly affected folks in town with the same idea as David), it isn't long before a hysterical, bloody man runs into the store, screaming "There's something in the mist!"

   The customers look outside and see that there is, in fact, a large, creeping wave of mist overtaking the street. . .the parking lot. . .and finally enveloping the store.  Then some kind of massive earthquake strikes, ripping loose overhead lights and overturning shelves.  The inhabitants of the store wonder what, exactly, is happening.  An attack of some kind - biological, perhaps?  A natural disaster?  No one knows, and most are too frightened to venture outside to find out.  Those that do, don't return.  Assistant manager Ollie (Toby Jones) only wants to help and keep folks calm.  The pretty new teacher Amanda (Laurie Holden) tries to help David keep Billy from being scared to death.  And local spinster Mrs. Carmody (Marcia Gay Harden) - well, she decides in no time at all that this situation is a punishment from God; it's the end of days, and right now.

Of course, there IS something in the mist, something ravenous and bloodthirsty that starts picking people off in escalating, horrible fashion.  But as hours turn into days, and every seemingly good idea ends up on the far side of worse, what's inside the store becomes as dangerous as what's awaiting outside.  Because when you put the human animal in a corner and give him nothing but the most terrible of options, things have a way of falling apart with sickening ease.  Neighbor can turn on neighbor, and your best friend becomes something entirely different when his sanity is stretched just a little too tightly.

I'm just going to state right now that as a horror movie, as something that threatens you and makes you feel truly uncomfortable as you sit safely in the dark, The Mist is without a doubt a great movie.  As a FILM?  Superb as well, no question.  Again, you will not leave feeling secure in the abilities of human behavior under pressure; you will step out into the light and be thankful that you don't have to confront such terror in your life.  Darabont's approach is claustrophobic and right in your face, milking every tense situation for all it's worth - be it confronting a monster from your worst nightmare or the utter disgust at realizing exactly what people are capable of in the most undesirable of circumstances.  The crew Darabont worked with on his episode of The Shield last year (cinematographer Ronn Schmidt especially) create an immediate, you-are-there docudrama feel to the film that helps to immerse you even deeper into it.  The makeup FX by KNB - still the greatest effects house in the entire business - is phenomenal, helped along immeasurably by the input of famed artist Bernie Wrightson with the creature design.  Sure, some of the CGI is obviously that - CG - but you cannot deny the effectiveness with which it is used.

Acting across the board is top-notch.  Thomas Jane proves once again that whatever IT is, the man's got it and then some.  Laurie Holden exudes strength and despair in equal measure - I dug the chick in Silent Hill, sure, but I had no idea she had these kind of chops.  Braugher is righteous and indignant precisely as the character he plays would be.  Young Nathan Gamble plays the terrified child without once becoming annoying or overbearing as sometimes happens in flicks like this, no; he breaks your heart with his fear and concern for his father, and above all makes you want everything to turn out alright - for his sake at least.  The character actor Hall Of Fame is well represented with William Sadler, Jeffrey DeMunn and Frances Sternhagen, all of whom do exactly what it is they do - create believable, realistic characters that you're sure you've met at one time or another in your life.  And finally, Marcia Gay Harden.  Given the hardest part to play, she's the one who makes it all work; because if you don't buy it - and it would be VERY easy to overact in this part, I'm sure - everything falls apart.  The threat inside the store just doesn't play.  But she makes it seem all too possible, sadly, and to chilling effect.  She is simply outstanding.

With his script, Darabont proves exactly why his King adaptations are so successful in that he knows when to step back and let the story and the source material do the work.  Of course he realizes when it's the time to throw his influence on things, but - as he's done previously - he allows King's characters to simply BE, to merely exist as King intended.  It's been said before (and forgive me for repeating it) that the reason Stephen King's stories work so well is because you care about the people.  You put a living, breathing, ordinary human being into the extraordinary situations that King does and suddenly it's all right there for you, the fear.  You WANT them to get away from the threat.  You WANT them to be okay.  And when they don't - when they fail or are betrayed or just plain lose - it hits you hard.  Darabont understands that as no other director before him ever did; not three times out, anyway.  Just like in Shawshank and Green Mile, Darabont brings the characters whole into cinematic being, using chunks of dialogue - verbatim - from the original story.

Which leads us to Darabont's greatest and only major deviation from the source material:  the ending.  This will make you squirm, this new ending, and it should also (I would imagine) get you talking.  It's not mere hyperbole to say that it's nothing short of shocking.  To be truthful, I saw more than a few people leave their seats with less than 3 minutes to go after the TRUE denouement came.  It's divisive; it's going to piss some people off who aren't going to be able to handle it and as a result they're going to hate the movie.  But those of us who realize that this is the inevitable outcome in terms of what Darabont's trying to say with it will understand.  Maybe we won't like it either - but we'll understand. The bottom line?  It's simple.  The mere fact that he had the rock solid balls to end his movie this way is what makes it as good as it is.  It's what makes it a true blue horror movie.  It's what makes The Mist a classic.

[globalcreating]

Global Online Dating

OKCupid, Tinder, Badoo, and private social networks are just a few ways I have met some interesting characters over the year and continents.  While friends back home are full of online horror stories about these apps, my overall overseas experience has been pretty good, I'd give it an 85%. An app's popularity depends greatly on the region and the year.

Badoo

While living in Southeastern Africa, I was told by a male Irish friend that he loved Badoo. It was his "favorite piece of travel tech." His job took him across the continent and the app facilitated his access to young attractive African women—that was in 2014. When I mentioned the app to a black American male friend in Kenya, in 2017, he told me it was a scary scary place and he didn't want to return. Now, this could have to do with their taste profiles but I have to second the American's view. When I tried the app on a small African island I was terrified by the results. There was no shortage of men, but they were so unattractive, my friend with whom I would share screen captures called them appetite suppressants. Although I am currently dating someone, I logged on in Nairobi just to see if I could screen capture anything entertaining. My friend was right, it was a scary scary place.

(L-R) What is really going on here? It looks like one of the Clampetts escaped Appalachia with a passport. A dictator is slumming it on a dating site. Someone needs to call one of hoarding shows for an intervention. Well, I truly have no idea why that man has a tiger on his belly with eye nipples. Back to the island for a moment, while 95% of the people who would come up in my feed would make me cringe, I did wind up meeting a man from the Canary Islands. He, in turn, introduced me to a host of Colombian, Dominican, Portuguese, and Spanish men who were also on assignment in what one man called fealandia (land of ugly people). These guys became my primary source of entertainment over the Christmas and New Year's holidays. I even dated one of them for several months. When his contract was up we broke up. Then, when he saw I was visiting the States he sent me a ticket to come join him in the Caribbean for a few beach days. He said Badoo was a scary scary place and he didn't want to return. Then, of course, there is one of my girlfriends, let's call her Catfish Susie since she seems capable of meeting every shady guy around. From Badoo, she met Mark. At the time she was living in Saudi so virtual male attention is about all she could get on the daily. After weeks of talking with him, she started to think something was fishy. Sure enough Catholic Mark was calling a priest a reverend and couldn't seem to pinpoint exactly where in Europe he hailed....

Tinder

I was late to the party on this one. On one of my last nights in America, some Kiwi friends were in town, we were out at a bar. I noticed the guy we were chatting with was swiping on photos. One of the Kiwi boys said, "Gimme that. That's not how you Tinder. This is how you Tinder." He started quickly swiping left, left, left, left with the occasional right. A few days later when I was back at home in South Africa, I tried it. I was quickly hooked. With the amount of traveling I did for work it was perfect. Yes, like most women I got the occasional lewd message or the eponymous dick pic if I shared my WhatsApp with the wrong person. However, overall I met some amazing people. With that said, there were definitely some profile pictures that made me giggle and others that gave me the willies.

(L-R)Nothing like a quick hop over the water in my chopper.  Well, that is except a stroll on a fine white sand beach in a sarong that highlights you beautiful color. On who creepy planet is it okay to put a picture of you and who I hope is your daughter in the tub on a dating site? And of course, there is nothing like a bottle of whiskey shared with a baboon. Tinder became a more effective networking tool than asmallworld or Internations. In Uganda, I met a pro-boxer who trained me every day after work. In Kenya, I met a tall man who just wanted to organize my life and make my entry into the country as smooth as possible. He referred me to three clients. In Qatar, I met a Frenchman who took me on an amazing diving vacation to Zanzibar. In Egypt, I met a Spaniard working directly in my field. We went for dinner with my local counterpart, then, a cruise up the Nile on a felucca. On another pass through Cairo, I met a Brit who was struggling with life on the road—he was living between the UK, US, and Dubai. He and I had a 72-hour honeymoon which included seeing the Sphinx and the Great Pyramid. Then when I was about to face empty seats at the event I was supervising he filled it with industry appropriate people. In Bahrain, I met an amazing pilot who while totally misbehaving on Tinder became my brother from another mother. He then added me the friends and family plan with the local carrier allowing me to enjoy business class again. I could go on but you get the point. To this day, I am LinkedIn, Facebook, Instagram friends with these men. Tinder became a more effective networking tool than asmallworld or Internations.

Left: After I unmatched with the scam profile, he then reappeared under a new name with a leather daddy look. Right: the fake contract Then came the crazy story and like many of my crazy stories, it involves a Nigerian giving his people a stereotypically bad name. I was in Doha for a few days. Out of habit, I opened Tinder and there was this beautiful man. I mean he was model gorgeous. As a woman who always had gay friends, my gaydar was beeping loudly but I mean he was that fine. I messaged him and we began to chat. There were no other red flags so I gave him my Viber number. After a few more photo exchanges, I asked him for a picture of his hand. It was a thing I used to do to see if the person was using a fake photo. I just knew he was going to demur. But he didn't, about twenty minutes later a hand photo arrived. He then, unsolicited sent me the strangest thing, it was what looked like a contract cover page created by a 10-year-old in MSWord. It said that he was contracted by the Qatar Petroleum Company for $3.6million to inspect oil rigs or something. Knowing I had him, I pretended to be impressed and asked him to meet. He said he was headed to the airport. I decided to bring in my brother from another mother on it and made him think I lived in a penthouse apartment in West Bay. His greed was starting to get the best of him and he began using distinctly Nigerian phrasing including a lot of Jesus references and marriage proposals. This all took place over about a 3-hour period, I was getting bored so I asked him flat-out why he, clearly a Nigerian man who was not in Doha was using the photo of a gay Swedish man? He gave me a long sob story about he was an international businessman but nobody wants an African. This made me more upset than the lying and after going on a long audio message rant, I blocked him.

OK Cupid

I have no personal overseas experience with this app but I will revert to Catfish Susie for a quick tale. It was summer time and Susie was looking forward to a jaunt across Europe, a welcome break from the stress of teaching in Saudi. She had tried to sell us all on the virtues of virtual romance. I wasn't feeling it. Anyway, she had been carrying on a cyber relationship with a man for several months. He originally told her he was German but then when they went to Skype he said he was actually half-German half-Turkish. She was willing to let that one slide. Together, they made real world plans to visit Cyprus and Romania. I told her this didn't sound like a good idea but yalla whatever. As the date crept closer so did his excuses. He couldn't talk because he needed to go care for his ailing mother. Then it was a work crisis. I suggested she check out Naples instead and stay far away from the shady man's sphere of influence. She still wanted to know what was going on so she enlisted the help of a friend who traced the IP address on the emails and did a geo-location on the phone he was using to send text messages.  Do I need to continue... It is worth noting that OKCupid may be on the decline in America, however,  there are still users overseas and with the ability to teleport yourself to a different place you may enjoy chatting with some expats or locals.

Social Networks

I was a member of asmallworld and Internations. A friend in Italy sent me an invite to Internations when it began, but I was never very keen on going to the events. I went to a handful in South America, Africa, the States, and the Gulf.  A few years ago they introduced a new twinkle feature. It is frankly quite weird. Every time I log in there are new twinkles from a host of Indian and Pakistani men living in the Gulf. There does not seem to be a way to turn off this feature so I just reduced the amount of public information on my profile. One of my friends who I met in Mozambique loves the site. She, a Jewish New Yorker, enjoys mingling with the city's expat population on the platform and in the various meetups. Unlike me, she pays for her membership and can email anyone on the site.  In the decade or so that I have been a member, I have been asked out several times. The answer is always no. The ASW geolocator generated the most interesting experiences by far. Asmallworld used to be a different site, a chic-chic Facebook—but now it is a travel membership site with perks and a global community capped at 250,000. Before it changed over and to a lesser extent today, one would post their upcoming trips in the geolocator app on the site. Shortly thereafter, you would begin to receive invitations from men and women to events or offers to grab drinks in the various cities you would be visiting. It was great. From Johannesburg to Hong Kong, I met and dated intriguing men. I went to a high-end spa in Thailand, was given a whirlwind tour of Hong Kong's hottest lounges, attend a fashion show in South Africa, a film festival in Switzerland,  a private concert at the Brazilian embassy in Rome and a host of other unique dates. Owing to the closed network, you could always trace the person back to common connection. I have to say, by far the ASW geolocator generated the most interesting experiences of all the apps combined.   Click to Post