#I’m a self flagellating bitch at the end of the day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thatsadorbsyo · 5 years ago

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Lucas - Threads

((this post references the events of the fall, a mission in the heartless ffxiv roleplay campaign. quoted sections were written by @way-to-the-future. cw: character death. art credit: papa ibra tall, seamstress of the stars, wool tapestry, 1970s.))

“I admire how much warmth you give. Like a furnace. Like you've got a blaze rolling at your heart, and you let it all out through your skin. I see it in your eyes, the way they glow when the lamplight hits it just right.”

I’ve got nothing but white static in my head when I try to remember the Rovers’ faces, and if that isn’t creepy as fuck, I don’t know what is. I can’t recall a single thing about them. No noses, no mouths, not a sliver of kohl smudged under an eye or a lock of hair curling out from under a helmet. It’s easier to hate them when I can’t see any facets of their identity, but I don’t wanna fall prey to this lazy fallacy, either. There must have been real men under all that armor. One of many, sure, but individuals all -- just like I had been, once upon a time. So why don’t I remember?

My memory is unfortunately selfish and selective. It picks up the threads of the things closest to my heart and weaves the best story it can with the loose ends. So here’s the stupid little details that stuck with me, where more pertinent information might have been written instead:

I can still tell you with absolute clarity the exact gem tones of the light reflecting off of Cheche’s upturned face, when the Allagan facility erupted in spells and gunfire all around us. Sapphire blues, emerald greens, and amethyst purples against her shining black scales at every obsidian facet, like a raven feather catching the light.

I can map with exacting precision the arc of Castor’s white braid when he whipped his head around at the commotion, taking the tactical measure of our situation the way only a forged-in-the-blood knight like him can. Even after turning away from him, I could still feel the bulwark of Castor behind me, a solid presence that I didn’t need to see to be able to sense, like an extension of my arm, a phantom limb.

To turn around and suddenly find them both gone, ushered down a different corridor in all the clusterfuck of our allies splintering when the Rovers betrayed us?

It felt like amputation.

If I could, I would keep them both in my heart, keep them like puppets suspended by vermilion strings that extend from their every joint to the cavernous arches of my beating muscle. With threads that absorb the shock of my mortal body and every twin hammer of blood, so that all my loves can feel is the gentle warmth of my fire, the spark of creation that burns in me to keep them, cradle them, shelter them close and alive.

Keep them, and I guess, in so doing, preserve them exactly as I want them to be. Is that fair? It doesn’t seem so, does it? I may love them, but they aren’t mine. They aren’t toys or dolls; not mine to keep. See, Castor has taught me that to love someone is to swap my puppeteer’s strings for the Spinner’s threads, and let them weave their own way through my story. Cheche has shown me that the beauty in anything -- in anyone -- is that they might evaporate at any moment. But if I let them, they both might even decide, all on their own, to stay with me for as long as they can. A stronger path, freely chosen and written in royal blue and bright fern green, threading in a perfect braid around my brilliant gold.

No, I couldn’t keep them -- and in the moment of amputation, it didn’t fucking matter anyway, because they’d already gone beyond my reach. My heart was alone, but still it burned for them; burned fit to melt straight through the iced Malbolge of all the hells, a judgement which I still believed must have been waiting for me just beyond the next door of this Allagan tomb, to welcome me to the justice that I'm owed for my crimes. This door, or the next door. The next one.

Amputation wouldn’t stop me. Hell wouldn’t stop me. I would have burned through that whole building like a live coal, if that was what it had taken to find the exit and bring us all back home.

“It's hardly poetic, love. I'm just telling you exactly how you are. How anyone could see you. Even if they weren't a poet. Maybe even if they didn't care for you like I do. Just, if they - stopped to watch you.”

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, but I had a brother once, before I torched the evidence of the life I used to live. Augustin looked so much like me even when we were young, but moreso now than ever before. We have the same bronze eyes, the same nose; I’ve grown into the size of our chin with time. He’s a beefier motherfucker than I am, and he’d always preferred braids, but even still you’d be hard pressed to tell us apart if you stood us back to back. Where do you think is he now?

Does he wonder what’s become of my punk ass? Surely the reports tell the truth about how I left. They wouldn’t keep secrets, not from a... fuck, he’s probably a Centurio now, isn’t he?

Shit... I bet he is. He always wanted to follow Mom’s path, even though every day that passes causes me to doubt her just a little bit more. I’ve learned too much about family not to begin questioning her motives for doing what she did, but I guess that’s neither here nor there.

But it was Augustin who first taught me how to shoot, you know? He took me behind our home and put a gunblade in my hands, adjusting my twiggy little twelve-turn limbs into the approximate shape of proper posture even when the weight of it threatened to topple me over like a top-heavy weed. He drilled firearm etiquette into me until I could recite its tenets by memory. For such a little bitch, he molded me into a decent shot.

I haven’t felt that kind of brotherly guidance in a long time, but I think I felt Augustin’s ghost behind me when I stood shoulder to shoulder with Sister Lux in that facility, fighting our way out.

Do you remember that door, the one I had thought stood between me and the hells? It was really just another hungry bulkhead between us and freedom; a sun and moon puzzle that should have been, might have been harder to solve if I couldn’t feel the juxtaposition of her fire right next to me. Sun and moon. Astral and umbral. It was so simple; this was a test. I had let my aether lay fallow, and in order to progress I had to reach inside and drag all the burning potential straight out of my mouth. Furious, destructive, so obscenely fucking alive.

Hungry, that’s the key word. The door had to feed -- on us. I don’t know how, or why, but somehow she and I put our hands to the door at the same time and knew exactly what to do. It was time for me to shit or get off the proverbial pot, and all she had to do was correct my posture a little bit, just like old times in the backyard with my brother and a weapon I didn’t know how to hold.

I picked up my brass and ruby cudgel, and she told me how to feel the fire of my aether and let it simmer in controlled brilliance, and how to sit back and watch, patient and observant, as an umbral reckoning blazed all the way up into my nose, through my nostrils, eventually bubbling out in an oozing black ichor like tar. Until we were both painted with blood and the door finally gave way after growing fat on our offerings. Freedom, and not a moment too soon.

It’s funny. It’s funny in that way where I have to laugh to keep from considering all of the circumstantial leaps that had to happen to get me there, in that moment, with that exact mentor and the tools available to me. Did you know that I bought my thaumaturge focus the same day -- at the same damn merchant stall -- that I bought the bracelet that Lux still wears? The cudgel was a leap of faith (I thought maybe, someday, I would use it), and the bracelet was a tithe for her attention, but I gotta fucking wonder if that wasn’t the Spinner herself cinching an amethyst purple thread, until two distant ends of a rich black fabric pleated and bunched together, suddenly close, in a moment of coordinated function.

Like this had been the plan all along.

“They treat you differently because of it. Everyone on this ship - they know they can talk to you, Lucas. That you'll hear them.”

I started this mission as an empty vessel, asking everyone I came across to pour their faith into me so that I might taste it and gradually build a competence in teasing apart the flavors of the gods. The truth is that I was searching for the one most likely to offer me forgiveness, or at the very least the god who might hand me a penitence that I felt like I could swallow. I thought I deserved it, you see. That’s how all this started. On bad days, I still do.

Asking about faith isn’t just a window to the spiritual soul -- it’s also a mainline straight into the source of everyone’s irreconcilable fucking damage. Picking your god is a perilous choice, but mostly because it ultimately determines what kind of personality malfunction you’re going to have down the road. I already know why I’m awful: Delusions of grandeur and megalomania, with a curious tendency to self-flagellate. I’m the smartest, most impressive architect you’ll ever meet. I’m the greasiest, grimiest hunk of motor oil in the gutter.

The only way to reach the middle road between glorifying and hating myself, I’ve found, is to count the threads that wrap themselves around my ribs when I recount the conversations that I’ve had on the Salemtaza’s Voyage.

Here’s a taste: I’ve got Caelrin in deep ochre around my midriff where my abs are just starting to take shape. Ignera sits in flaming orange around the hollow of my throat, slapping my hand away every time I try to choke on my own self-loathing. Captain Kharn wraps in garnet around my face, shielding me from unwanted eyes when I don’t feel quite how I should in my skin. W'kana and W'buki in yellow and black, swaddling me so tight around the chest I fear for my next fucking breath. Reinette, a gentle evening blue curling in petals around my fingertips. Rizzo, a shining onyx black stitching up my lungs telling me to breathe, just breathe, don’t stop breathing until it gets easier.

More even than that. Staelufre in neon magenta, Fugetsu in an unknowable shade of grey, Killian in sunset orange, Strelec in obscuring maroon, Hikari in daisy yellow, Camille in cloudy crimson, Jancis in healing olive, Lune in jumpsuit orange, Jeanne in oil-slick purple, Hanako in fresh lavender, even Kat, yeah, even her, in that same royal blue as Castor.

Nathaniel threading in loops around every one of my fingers in a dazzling gold that fades into the electric yellow of potent aethersand.

I could go on. I could list twice as many names and colors as I already have, and I must ask myself: How do I carry them all? How could I possibly hold them all, without attaching them directly to my meat, my bones, this hideous and imprecise flesh that rightly should be cogs and metal? All that thread would just gum up the whole works, wouldn’t it? Maybe it’s better that I am man, then, and not machine.

For all my flaws, I can still stretch my arms and accommodate all these dangling ends.

“They see it in you, in the way you carry yourself. You're curious. Empathetic. You want to understand people, not just love them or hate them or think nothing of them at all.”

Sui tried to warn me about all this, back at the pumpkin patch at Cloudtop. It was raining, weighing down all my sashes on my brand new armor, and Sui had laughed when the skies parted to reveal the sun setting in a field of rose gold and the softest lavender. It seems like she and I can never properly talk if we aren’t both looking at the sky, like this is the only way we can perceive each other. Never head on -- only in the periphery. Or maybe it’s just easier to talk about certain things when you aren’t looking someone in the eye. Maybe it’s that.

She was so startled by the questions I needed to ask her, like she hadn’t thought it was possible that anyone had been watching her reaction to Nathaniel’s speech, like she didn’t think anyone would have noticed that she was upset. Is she so used to passing under the radar?

But I’ll give her credit. Sui tried to warn me that my friends would die. I watched the sunset fizzle out on the horizon from its soft pastels into a creeping ceruleum and a deeper indigo while she told me every horror that had befallen her family before, and what she knew would happen to us again. Sui could feel the same threads of fate starting to twine around our edges, and she wanted me to be prepared. I listened. I let those fibers stitch themselves into my lungs in the golden rose of a cloudless twilight sky.

I just never thought it would come down on us so quickly, and with such brutal force. I’ve never had to pray for another person before, and out of nowhere I found it necessary to summon the script to beg for twelve of my friends’ lives.

The truth is that I never learned how, and I’ve been too afraid to seek the answer. I know how to make wishes; I know how to toss gold coins into a running fountain and watch the sunlight flicker off the scattered mess of them along the bottom of the pool. But I don’t know how to pray.

I know who I would ask. It was Tieve who introduced me to Gridania, and if Sui and I speak most openly under a yawning sky, you might say that Tieve and I communicate best among the trees, under a cathedral of roots. The memory of the hearer’s chapel is stitched in bark brown and moss green bracelets around my wrists, reminding me that while I may have been invited to someone’s sacred space, I have to mind my boundaries, too. I am not the infallible creator of my own conceit, but nor am I outcast from Spoken kindness and community. To know temperance is to know yourself, to dig into the well of your Spoken dignity and grant the same to others.

I still have this embroidered Gridanian sachet of wood chips and herbs that she gave me, telling me it was for luck, and I didn’t know back then how much I would come to rely on Nymeia for hope. That I would need to believe that she’s writing me into a greater tapestry, that I need that grandeur to feel like my dumbass mistakes have meaning and purpose. And even with Tieve beyond my reach, it occurred to me that she might have already given me everything I needed to weave my own prayer. A level head. A god. A talisman.

I’m just fumbling through this. We all are, but I made my own prayer by pulling that sachet out of my pocket and spinning it over and over in my hands as I remembered the names of those our enemies had taken from us. Who better to beg than the god of fate? Keep their lines anchored to me. Keep them in the tapestry. Keep them safe.

“It's the most noble thing about you. It's - It's more than just what you do, it's who you are. It's what I love about you.”

I recite their names:

Aidan, the hound with apologetic eyes who slinks around the edges the crowd until someone notices him, at which point he deflects attention from himself with a self-deprecating joke straight out of my own fucking toolbox. He could be a brother to me, if he let himself be; if he told me the truth about who he is and where he’s been. I can smell it on him. The stench of ceruleum doesn’t fade as quickly as any of us would like, but I wait for him to tell me on his own terms. Aidan weaves around the periphery of my eyelids in a shadowy kohl black.

Izar, the mercurial seer who obscures themselves in riddles like a smug sphinx playing at being a whimsical faerie. They have never passed up the opportunity to toy with me like a blind white kitten with an oversized brown moth, but the teeth of their humor has never once felt like a cage to me. They are kind, and curious, and helpful even as they delight in your confusion. They dangle at my elbow in marble white, furiously tickling my arm like a loose hair caught in a sleeve.

Adhi, the wandering sage of Dalmasca who the gods had to gift with such big fuzzy ears so that she could better capture every single story that ever came her way. I don’t know how to even begin to thank her for what she’s done for me; she’s returned things to me that by all means should have been my birthright but were taken from me before I was even aware that they were being stolen. Her thread spirals in a shell around my ear in an entire spectrum of colors, one for every tale she carries with her.

Still, there’s more: Tieve, the witch of the wolves (mossy green); Percy, the son of a shadow (cobalt blue); Bride, the bashful goldsmith (periwinkle blue); Swozbhar, the towering cook (mint green); Valeriaux, the scarred philanthropist (leather brown); Silya and Livia, the sunniest Fists I’ve ever met (pale pink and soft teal); Farid, the most visibly haunted man I know (muted purple); and Iron Deer, the entrepreneurial engineer (metallic steel) -- all of them familiar faces, all of them colleagues, all of them threaded through the chambers of the same priceless Heart that gives our mission purpose.

The same Heart that we traded away just to get them back.

You know what? Fuck it. I’ll string them all to my own heart. I’ll suspend them all in cocoons deep in the burning hearth of me -- I will fight my way out of this facility that wants desperately to become our tomb -- until those that still live can crawl back out, fragile but alive and free to keep fighting for whatever comes next.

But one of them is gone, beyond the veil and permanently out of my reach. Just like Sui tried to warn me about, and all of Tieve’s lucky charms were not enough to protect me from this single ungentle truth. The Spinner does not stop the march of destruction -- she merely directs it. She cuts the threads of our fallen friends when they begin to fray and weaves new ones in their place; a different color, a fresh fate.

One of them is gone, their thread knotted off in a sudden stop on the tapestry of our story. But who?

Who did we lose?

“I've seen it. I've heard it. I've bloody felt it. Everyone I speak to says the same. Every one of them knows what a great heart you have.”

Percy and I first met at that bonfire by the chocobo stables. I was shivering, fresh off the fucking ship and completely unprepared for the weather, and he stood next to me and promised me everything I could ever possibly want, if only I made a promise in return to be a loyal friend to the Family. I was so desperate for a place to belong, I would have signed anything, done anything -- what had mattered was that he would have me. In this brave new world, I had people looking out for me. A place to call home. Structure. An institutionalized, freshly liberated fuckhead like me desperately needed structure.

So what if it came with a little price? The list of my sins is long, and breaking and entering is pretty far down at the bottom. Bar brawls are inconsequential, when you’ve already essentially aided and abetted war crimes. So, I’m wanted by both House Desrosiers and House Beaumarchais for stealing a thing or two from their daughters’ manse. So fucking what. Percy and I -- There are bonds that can only be forged at three in the morning, sitting on a crows’ perch halfway across the city under the moonlight, doing pre-job surveillance on some fart-sniffing nobles through their window. I’m not saying we kissed. I’m not saying we didn’t, either.

This is what I’m thinking about, when I look down at Percy’s lifeless face, drained of the rosy pink that always sat on his cheeks during those cold-ass stakeouts, huddled together at the shoulders for warmth. If I touched him now, he would be so cold, so unnaturally fucking cold, so I don’t. I can’t bring myself to touch him; to do anything but stare with my mouth half-open and a sob dying somewhere between my sternum and my throat, turning into just another burning pit to fizzle and die in my stomach.

Except it doesn’t have the good sense to die. It turns to steam, turns to pressure, backs up the entire clockwork machine that keeps me chugging along, and it must be vented or else I’m going to fucking explode, but I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. It stutters inside me like a hitched gear. The whine seems to come from my chest, high-pitched, like a kettle about to scream. Is that me? Am I screaming? I don’t know myself. I am not me, in this moment. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who is on the cot below me, whose silver close-cropped hair sits on this head, whose too-round spectacles reflect the light in the room too thoroughly for me to be able to see if their dead fucking eyes are open or closed. I don’t know which is more terrifying.

I leave. I run. My boots scream against the floor of the ship, clap against the dirt outside, and I don’t stop running until I can drop to my knees and bellow to the impassive clouds. This is my fault. Judgement rings in my head in a cacophony of voices. My fault. My fault he’s dead.

What am I doing here? What have I done?

Percy’s line, cobalt blue, is so cleanly snipped from my fabric that all I can do is finger the empty spot where it might have kept going. Maybe one day we could have found compromise; a future where the three of us could get along without jealousy, without miscommunication or hurt feelings. I’ll never fucking know.

I have always thought of myself in big terms. I am man, I am machine, I am god. I’m the architect of my own form, and I have crafted myself in my own image. Nothing makes me feel more powerful than looking in the mirror and seeing my face look back at me; the face that I sculpted, the body that I shaped. The people that I’ve been in the past are not dead, but rather they have been stitched into my organs. The girl that I was lives in my marrow and feeds my blood, and I am never alone in the cathedral of my body. I am holy. I am enduring. I will move beyond the ghosts at my heels and continue forging a forward path, with those I love woven into the never-ending project that I call my self.

But even a god looks puny as shit, crying into the dirt over a fallen friend. I need to feel this. I need how small this makes me, how insignificant I am in this moment. I gotta remember how crippled it makes me feel. This humility -- it needs to be sown into me, too. So I don’t make the same mistake again. It’s the least I can do.

I can’t forget. I won’t forget his face.

“What a precious, precious thing we've gained.”

#FFXIVHeartless #lucas nevin #balmung rp #ffxiv rp #IC post #castor arendt #cheche dotharl #lux lunseer #sui eclair #tieve corwell #percy d'armagnac #adian hawke #izar yunhaai #sage adhi #(and more!)#[S] Lucas: Be the Heir of Blood

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hallospaceboyy · 5 years ago

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Hea, I love your stories! How about another one wit Zelda? She and reader are married happy but reader disappears for long time unknowingly (maybe kidnapped). During time she's gone Zelda marry Faustus and reader appears again. Please very sad and happy ending. Sexy is alright and good too. Love you and have a great day. (Sorry, I french)

Hi! I feel like this is kind of a train wreck, feels kinda rushed, but it's a lot to fit into a one shot. I hope you like it, anyway! (I couldn't resist making Blackwood the villain in this lol)

Warnings: Smut, mentions of flagellation as punishment, slight injury detail

A month ago, you had married the love of your life; the witch of your dreams. You never thought you could be so happy as in this moment, laying beside Zelda Spellman, as Y/N Spellman. You'd never grow bored of telling people you’re a Spellman now. You stroke Zelda's long auburn hair, kissing her softly and pressing yourself against her, and she chuckles against you, knowing you can’t get enough of her – and she can’t get enough of you. She hums as you kiss down her neck, sucking the pale skin there, leaving a deep purple mark. She hisses as your teeth graze her, her hands coming down to squeeze your bare ass.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Mrs Spellman,”

“Oh, I have no doubt about that, Mrs Spellman,” Zelda chuckles, her voice low, sultry. You grin and slide your hand between her legs, grazing over the soft patch of red hair there to slip your fingers between her folds, finding her already wet and wanting. A soft moan leaves her lips as your fingertip brushes her clit, her hips bucking slightly. You love to tease your wife, but know that now is not the time, know that all you want is to make her come undone beneath you, haven’t the patience to make her wait. You enter her with deft fingers, and as you move them inside of her, she claws at your back, ripping a groan from you that mingles with her own moans and mewls. You pump them faster and harder, add a third finger, fucking her with reckless abandon and she’s writhing beneath you now, mumbling praises and obscenities.

“O-oh darling... you’re so incredibly good a-at this...”

Zelda stiffens beneath you, throwing her head back against the pillow as her orgasm courses through her, moaning loudly and digging her nails into the flesh of your back, sure to leave marks there. She tugs on your hair, clinging to you in any way she can. As she comes down from her high, lids heavy and breathing erratic, her grip loosens, her muscles turned to jelly, and she kisses your cheek, your forehead, savouring the intimacy of this moment.

“I love you, Y/N. My amazing wife,”

“I love you more,” You roll from your place atop her, laying beside her brushing your mussed hair from your face, and take in the sight of Zelda now, euphoric, elated and thoroughly fucked.

“That my dear, is impossible,” You giggle and curl up in her arms, both of you falling asleep almost immediately, in a haze of marital bliss. Neither of you knowing the misery the next morning would bring, when you would be bundled into the trunk of a car, and seemingly disappear off of the face of the earth.

A year later

Zelda had finally given in, married the misogynistic High Priest that had been trying to court her for months, coaxing her with whisperings of power, status, and what he referred to as staggering sins of the flesh, which were only ever really mediocre, compared to you, and she would never admit her thoughts turned to you whenever she did let the man touch her. Zelda let him flagellate her, punish her in ways she felt necessary, because she should have been able to protect you. Knew that something had happened to you, that you would never have just left her, without a word, without a reason. Her heart was split in two, and her trysts with Faustus were her attempt at a soothing balm, although not soothing at all, merely her searching out physical pain to lessen the emotional. She saw her family less and less, felt cut off from them, having to spend almost all of her time at the academy with her now husband, and she felt alone, and broken, but resumed the facade of happy, married life, kept up the appearances expected of her as Lady Blackwood. As she lay beside her sleeping husband, feeling desolate, and unsatisfied, Hilda opened the door at the Spellman mortuary, to find you standing at the threshold, gripping the door jamb to keep yourself up, and you fell into Hilda's arms.

Zelda awoke to the feeling of being summoned, heard her sister’s voice in her mind, urgent, telling her to come home, She sounded panicked, and Zelda didn’t even think twice before teleporting into the mortuary entrance hall, clad only in nightgown, taking in the scene before her and gripping the bannister beside her instantly at the sight. Hilda knelt with your head in her lap. You looked thin, your skin pallid, almost translucent, and your breathing was laboured. A dark bruise surrounded your eye, and more bruises peppered the skin of your body, marks of tight restraint around your wrists and ankles.

“What happened, Hilda?? Satan, look at her!” Zelda's was hysterical, shaking uncomtrollably.

“I-I don’t know, Zelds. She just knocked on the door and collapsed,”

Zelda fell to her knees and crawled to your side, stroking your hair, and she sobbed, both from relief at your being alive, and fear at thoughts of what ordeals you had been through in the last year, a wave of self hatred coursed through her as she scolded herself for not resuming their search, not tearing the whole damn world apart to get you back. She had given up, and now she knew you were somewhere close the whole time, suffering, pained, and waiting for Zelda to save you. The sisters assisted each other in getting you to Zelda's bed, both silent save for choked sobs and sniffles, and over the coming days they nursed you back to health, and Zelda ignored Faustus, forgot he even existed.

The days after your return to the Spellman household were blurred, as if a fog surrounded you. You fell in and out of consciousness, let someone spoon feed you soup, took the water offered to you, swallowed foul tasting potions, and then fell back to sleep, your strength slowly returning to you, but still too weak to stay awake for long periods of time. You dreamt of Zelda, heard her voice, felt her touch, and you thought maybe you had finally died, must be dead, if you were really with her again.

But when you opened your eyes, colour finally returning to your cheeks, actually feeling somewhat human, Zelda laying beside you, your hand clutched in hers, and she sat bolt upright as she sees you wake, tears filling her green eyes. You can see she wants to say something, her mouth opening and closing again several times, and you offer her a weak smile from cracked lips.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Zelda's body was wracked with sobs, and you pulled her to you, stroking her hair, and began to sob yourself, so overwhelmed by being in Zelda's presence again, smelling her musty, floral scent, mingled with cigarettes, and you knew she had most likely returned to her habit of chain smoking. Feeling her warmth against you, the static of her magic that you had become so used to, you felt such a relief, a relief that you never thought you’d feel, so sure that you would never see or feel your Zelda again.

“None of this is your fault, Zeldie. I-it was B-Blackwood...” You swallowed thickly, feeling bile rise in your throat at the mere thought of the abhorrent man, knew that Zelda had married him. He had come to tell you, visited your prison often to gloat that Zelda belonging to him now, told you she was always supposed to belong to him, that you simply got in the way. An obstacle that he had to be rid of. You knew he would have killed you a long time ago, if the sadist in him didn’t enjoy seeing your pain, causing your pain. The excruciating torment of knowing Zelda was married to the man that took you away from her, and she was none the wiser. Faustus told you in great detail of the repentance she begged him for, how she cried as he flagellated her, and whispered apologies to you, for failing you. You squeezed your eyes shut now, willing your mind to banish the thoughts.

“What do you mean, Faustus?” There was a fire in Zelda's eyes now, a fury that made you almost pity any person that happened to be on the receiving end.

“H-he took me. Told me you were his. That I was in the way, ruined everything. He told me you married him, that it was his plan all along,” Zelda squeezed your hand, a tear slipping down her cheek, but her eyes were dark now, a storm raging inside them.

“That little bitch. He is going to be in for a world of pain,” She was shaking, so angry you thought she might explode, but she took a deep breath, calming herself and stroking your hair. “Darling, there's something I have to take care of. I’ll be right back,” You nodded, pulling her face to yours and kissing her softly, needing to feel her. It had been so long. “I’m never letting anybody take you away from me again, Y/N. I love you so much,”

“You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but smirk. You weren’t typically a vengeful person, weren’t vindictive, didn’t wish people pain, but this man had destroyed your life, destroyed Zelda's, taken advantage of her in her grief, and although things would be better now, if anyone deserved punishment it was the High Priest.

“No sweetheart, I’m not. But someone is, if he doesn’t pack his bags and leave Greendale immediately,” And Zelda stormed from the room, a fire in her eyes, no doubt readying herself to round up the other Spellmans, and you knew that feisty wife of yours and her family, your family, were a force to be reckoned with, and that they would protect you at all costs now, eliminate the enemy that has taken you from them.

#zelda spellman x reader #zelda spellman #zelda phiona spellman #faustus blackwood #father blackwood #caos fanfiction #hilda spellman

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what-is-your-plan-today · 5 years ago

Text

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 7- Damp Embers

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: Oh dear…following every drunken night there’s a morning after. Only on this one someone else turns up dead.

Episode Warnings: Bad Language words. SMUT (but who between?????Hmmmmmmmm)

NSFW or No Under 18s…

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (Yeah, not sure anymore, even we’ve lost track of her hating him or not.)

Song for Episode: Demons At The Door by Sleeping Wolf

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask. Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

“I never saw it coming to this, I never thought we could fall so far. Why do we always burn the bridges, and this is how we always, we always fall apart.”

To say he had a wicked hangover would be the understatement of the year. It was more than that, it was a textbook hangover with an extra of headache meets rage, self-flagellation and guilt. All-in-one pack and ready to go. That was Steve Rogers the morning after, or rather the afternoon after, as he looked at his own reflection in the en-suite mirror.

Was it afternoon? Steve thought as he absent-mindedly examined the bags under his ocean blue eyes and scratched the stubble on his face. He was looking forward to growing his full beard again. He would stop looking like he was barely legal at the bars and would regain his Captain stance. Besides Katie had always loved his beard.

Katie.

He winced at the memories of the previous night and decided to wipe them clean before they rotted his brain, or what was left of it. He peeled his boxers off and got into the shower unit trying to decide between soothing his aching muscles and heart with hot water or numb them with cold water.

Cold water it was. And fifteen minutes later Steve stood facing the curtains of his bedroom windows, dressed in washed blue jeans and a grey t-shirt. He hesitated for a second before throwing the curtains open wide with a swift movement followed by a groan as he closed his eyes, still too sensitive to sunlight. Damned hangover.

He took his phone from his night stand and placed it in his back pocket after checking he had no missed calls or messages. Nothing. Radio silence. Was that a good sign? Sure it was, right?

He sighed before leaving his bedroom. Facing Bucky would be as tough as opening those damned curtains, but he needed caffeine and some food. He poured some of the coffee Bucky must have brewed before into his breakfast mug and made himself a grilled cheese sandwich sided with an extra painkillers dose.

“Look who’s back from the dead” Steve heard Bucky yell from where he leaned on the kitchen doorframe.

“Shhh. Keep your volume low, will ya?” Steve practically begged in response.

“The Golden Boy of Brooklyn Police Department is hungover, ladies and gentlemen.” Bucky said after laughing loudly.

Steve groaned and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar to eat his food shooting daggers at him.

“How the mighty have fallen.” Bucky chuckled sitting on another stool facing him.

“Fuck off Bucky, I feel like crap.” Steve glared at him biting his sandwich.

“You sure look like crap.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve saw Bucky squint his eyes at him and open his mouth to speak, but he hesitated for a few seconds and closed it again.

“What? Spit it out.” Steve demanded as he sipped from his mug.

“I was just wondering… Is Wanda here or….?” Bucky asked.

“Bastard!” Steve shouted at Bucky, and he saw a playful cheeky smile on his friend’s face. Steve sighed and shook his head “I’m not with Wanda, nor planning on being with her. You know all too well I only want….” but he didn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t bring himself to pronounce Katie’s name. Let alone give Bucky any more ammo to continue teasing him on the subject.

“But you kissed Wanda.” Bucky said nonchalantly as he bit a plum he had retrieved from the fridge.

“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me and I stopped it!” Steve raised his voice.

“Yet you made her believe she stood a chance to do it.” Bucky added. “You were practically all over her sat in that booth.”

“I wasn’t…” “Steve, you had your arm round her.” Bucky scoffed “You were leaning into her, laughing at her. Man, I know you’re an idiot when it comes to women but come on!”

Bucky saw Steve stiffen on his stool and for a moment almost took pity on him before he decided not to. Someone had to try and talk sense into the idiot and he was sick and tired of this stupid dance the pair of them were engaged in. “Look, pal. I’m only saying it’s your fault Wanda made a move on you. I warned you a thousand times and still last night you didn’t stop her until it was too late. So you fucked up and ran.” he said pointing at him with the plum.

“Go fuck yourself Bucky! You know full well I didn’t run anywhere. I sank almost a full bottle of Knob Creek at the bar.” Steve winced at the pounding headache increased at the tension of the conversation and raised voices.

“Yeah, I know. Typical of Captain Slow.”

“Captain Slow?” Steve looked at him.

“Yeah, Sam coined it but it serves you well. You’re the one to blame for Katie leaving with flash fire dude. You know that, right?” Bucky insisted.

“Bucky, just don’t” Steve warned him.

“Don’t what. You don’t want me to tell you to stop being a whiney bitch and go get your girl once and for all?” Bucky said sternly looking directly into Steve eyes before muttering "Or what fire dude has left of her that is…”

“Buck.” Steve said in a warning tone as he punched the table in sheer anger.

“Go ahead, take your frustration out on the furniture. But I’m telling you this, punk. If you don’t man up and do something about it, I don’t wanna hear you talk about Katie again.” Bucky spat at Steve before storming out of the kitchen.

“Jerk!” Steve hollered for Bucky to hear. He watched Bucky leave before he groaned and dropped his head, banging it against the breakfast bar. The problem was he had no argument against anything Buck had said. He had been an idiot. He had indulged Wanda, simply because seeing Katie with that overgrown frat jerk had stirred that green eyed monster and that stupid little kid from Brooklyn had reared his head. And just as he and Katie had been getting back on good terms too.

With another sigh he wrenched his head off the counter, shoving the last of his sandwich into his mouth when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Reaching for it, he took a sharp intake of breath when he saw a photo of him and Katie filling his screen. A photo he remembered taking at Coney Island some 2 years previously. He was pulling a ridiculous face as Katie was reaching up to grab his chin, laughing as she did so. Such an unadulterated moment of pure happiness….

“Hi…” he said softly, bracing himself for what was to come, but to his surprise there was no angry

words, no sarcasm, nothing but professionalism.

“Hey.” she said softly “Look, I’m sorry to bother you but we just got a call about another body.”

“Shit.” Steve sighed “Where?”

“The Baseball field in Sunset Park.” she said. “Found by a guy who was taking his 2 kids to play ball. Uniform went down to check it out and then called us. We’re on our way down there now and Tony’s gonna meet us. I’ve sent Thor’s to come get you. Figured you’d need a lift seeing as you’ve no car”

“Thanks.” he said, genuinely grateful she’d thought of him.

“No problem. See you in a bit.”

He stood up, dropping his plate into the sink before he headed into his room to grab his shoes.

“Bucky!” he yelled as he re-emerged from his bedroom.

“You leaving?” Bucky asked turning towards him from his spot on the couch.

“Yes, Katie called. We have another body. Sunset Park” Steve explained as he put his black leather jacket on.

“Shit. Want me to drive you down there?” Bucky offered.

“No. It’s your day off and Katie sent Thor to come get me.” Steve told him.

“Ok. That’s nice of her considering…” Bucky trailed but stopped seeing Steve shooting him a warning look. Right not the time, Bucky thought to himself, give the man a break, as he raised his palms.

“Are you going out tonight?” Steve asked as he grabbed his wallet and keys.

“Maybe. Who knows? I’ll go with the flow.” Bucky said settling back further on the couch putting his feet on the coffee table in front of him and taking the TV remote.

“Take your feet of the coffee table.” Steve ordered.

Bucky was about to mock salute him when Steve phone’s beeped.

“Gotta go. Thor’s waiting. Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” he smiled at Bucky and walked away.

“How can I, you’re taking all the stupid with you.” Bucky yelled back and returned his feet to the coffee table when he heard the door of the flat close behind Steve.

******

“Good afternoon, Captain.” Thor greeted when Steve entered the patrol car.

“Good afternoon, Thor.” Steve greeted back buckling his seatbelt.

Steve saw Thor look at him with a frown before asking.

“Are you unwell, Captain?”

“Been better.” Steve just said, not wanting to discuss the events of the previous night with Thor.

“Rough night?” Thor insisted as he pulled away.

Rough last nine months Steve thought to himself.

“You could say that. Woke up with a terrible hangover but I’m feeling a bit better now.” Steve explained.

“Ha!” Thor laughed “Little Stark is also suffering I believe. She certainly had a wild night. Barfed up the remnants of her breakfast bagel before I came to collect you!” A wild night? Great, that’s all he needed to hear.

Steve took a deep breath and looked at Thor. “How come you are never hungover seeing as you drink like a fish?”

“Well, it’s been always like that. You see my father used to give us this mead he brewed himself when we were kids.” Thor explained, his eyes glinting at the reverie.

“Your father gave you alcohol?” Steve asked surprised.

“Yes, that he did. He was like a God to us. It was funny. We played hide and seek and my brother used to play dead.” Thor roared with laughter. “Deceitful bastard!” he added serious now.

“Were you guys close?” Steve asked Thor. His bizarre stories were proving a great distraction from his own drama.

“We had our moments. We grew up together, my sister though…” Thor trailed.

“Wait. You have a sister?” Steve enquired.

“Yeah. But she fled the nest when she turned 16. Father went mad at her and kicked her out. Living with her was hell. She liked to kill my snakes, I love snakes!” Thor said his voice sad now.

“What the…?” Steve was about to ask but let it go when he realized Thor was stopping the car not far from the baseball field in Sunset Park.

“We’re here, Captain.” Thor announced.

Steve nodded and unbuckled his belt. When he stepped out of the car he saw Tony perched by a body lying on the grass, Nat and Katie standing by his side. Steve sighed before beginning to walk towards them. Certainly, his guardian angel had to be mocking him or that was what he thought when he saw Katie was wearing a tan leather belted jacket with those damned matching knee high boots with the small heel. He’d be lying if he denied those boots did things to him.

“You look like crap” Tony said as they approached and for a moment the Captain thought he was talking to him until Katie spoke back.

“Eat shit”

“Mind you I’m not surprised.” Her brother folded his arms “Crawling in this morning at half 2.”

“Ok you’re talking and my hangover is getting worse, see the correlation?” Katie groaned.

“Happy told me he saw you outside the compound, eating Storm’s face…wait till I tell Reed.” Tony arched an eyebrow as Steve’s heart sank.

“Fuck off Tony, I was wasted” she shook her head and Steve could tell she was avoiding his gaze.

Not that she had any reason to, not really, they were both single after all.

“Ok, so what have we got?” Steve asked.

“Male, between 45 and 50” Tony spoke. “Initial examination shows cause of death was the same as the others, blunt force trauma, and there’s been further escalation in the violence as you can see…“

Steve glanced and winced. The victim’s face was covered in blood, so much so it was hard to make out any particular features.

"Just like one huge, red skull eh cap?” Tony said. “I’d estimate the fatal blow was the one to the back of the head but he took a few to the front too.”

“Cereal?”

“Yeah.” Tony held up a bag “I don’t know what kind but I’ll get it back to the lab. And before you ask, I estimate he has been dead approximately 10 to 12 hours.”

“Again no evidence he was dumped.” Nat offered.

“So he was killed here at…” Steve glanced at his watched “some point between 2 and 4 am?”

“Yeah, at a first pass. Sam will be able to narrow it down when he does the PM.” Tony nodded.

“Any identification?” Steve looked at Nat and Katie.

“Nothing on him.” Katie shook her head “but there’s a black sedan abandoned on 7th not for from the school. We ran a check and it’s registered to a Mr Johann Schmidt. Thor sent an officer round to establish whether he is at home or not”

“So like the others he drove here, presumably to meet his attacker.”

“Looks like it” she nodded.

“Any possible CCTV?”

“The school has cameras and we can check with traffic when we get back, see if they’ve got any active in the area” Nat replied.

“A few of my officers are talking to the morning staff at the all night convenience store on 7th” Thor offered “just in case”

“Alright” Steve nodded, but before he could go any further Thor’s radio crackled to life.

“This is officer Barker, 10-1…” “10-4 Barker” Thor spoke.

“Yeah, boss, there’s no answer at Schmidt’s.” the officer, known to them only as Barker spoke as they all listened “No sign of any disturbance or forced entry either.” “Understood. 10-6.” Thor instructed. He looked at Steve “Want me to send them in?” “No.” Steve shook his head “We’ll do the same as with the last 2 victims. Organise a search warrant. In the mean time we’ll need a formal identification. Thor, can you get one of your officers to identify his next of kin and locate them. In the meantime, keep the house secure, make sure no one enters. If anyone shows up I want to know about it. Then stay here, keep the scene clear whilst Tony’s team finish their investigation”

Thor nodded and turned away, issuing instructions into his radio. Steve looked at Nat and Katie “Ok, let’s get back to the station. Start doing some digging on Schmidt.” he then turned to Tony “You find anything suspicious in your search, call it in.” “Will do Cap but, if this is like the others I doubt we’ll find anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” he sighed “But I can remain hopeful, right.” “You know, I always admire your giddy optimism.” Tony quirked an eyebrow and Steve gave a huff of a laugh.

“Take it you need a lift back to the station.” Nat said and Steve nodded.

“Will you give me five minutes? I’ll catch up with you guys, need to sort something out with Tones.” Katie asked. And though the question was directed to both of them, Steve could clearly see she was still avoiding looking directly at him.

“Sure.” Nat said turning to walk towards her car. Instructing Steve, who had now hidden his fists in his jacket’s pockets, to follow her with a movement of her head.

“Sucks being called in like this, sorry.” Nat said giving him a side glance.

“Yeah well, it’s not like it’s your fault and I’m the Captain so it comes with the job.” Steve replied his sight never leaving the ground while walking.

“How are you holding up?” Natasha asked him once they reached the car.

“Woke up with this terrible hangover, not totally over it but I’m getting there.” he answered leaning on the hood of the car, arms crossed waiting for Katie.

“Not what I asked.” Nat insisted as she placed herself next to Steve.

Steve hesitated for a moment. He was pondering whether giving in to Romanoff’s questioning would result in a court martial or she would let him off the hook easily. And, as his mind was struggling to come to a decision, his eyes lingered on Katie who was now waving Tony goodbye and was beginning to walk towards them. When he turned to look at Nat he saw she was staring at him.

“She didn’t spend the night with him. She told me earlier.” Natasha said softly, not looking at him, as if they were making casual conversation.

“None of my business, Romanoff.” Steve said as sternly as he could, but knowing Romanoff he was sure she could read the glint of hope in his voice.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” she muttered as Katie was now close enough for her to hear them.

“Thanks guys.” Katie said once she had reached the car. “We can go now.”

Just as Natasha opened the driver’s side, Steve motioned to open the right back door for Katie to get in.

“Erm.. Steve… I know you’re taller and the Captain but I really need to ride shotgun or I’m gonna puke.” Katie pleaded.

“Sure sweetheart.” he conceded. God, was there anything in this world he would be able to deny that woman, he thought as he saw Nat raising an eyebrow at him.

“Thanks.” Katie almost whispered, opening the front door and getting in.

“You good?” Nat asked Katie as all three of them buckled their seatbelts and she adjusted the rear window mirror, positioning it so that she could watch Steve reactions or that was what Steve thought.

“You’ve already thrown up your breakfast. Are you pregnant?” Natasha asked Katie, who choked on her water, as Romanoff checked on Steve through the mirror.

“Chance would be a fine thing.” Katie said as she wiped the water she had spat over her chin and pink button down. “I haven’t had a fuck in that long I’m expecting my virginity back in the post.”

Steve didn’t say a word, didn’t bat an eyelid, didn’t move a muscle on his face. But his mind went there, that was the confirmation he needed. Nat had said they hadn’t spent the night together, which he already knew because Tony had said she had returned home earlier that morning, but now Katie was confirming they hadn’t had sex. Back to square one. Wait, what? What was he thinking? But then again Bucky’s words in his head Man up! Do something about it! Yeah, easier said than done, punk.

“It was only December… That’s not that long.” Natasha drawled.

Steve felt the heat crawling from his neck up to his cheeks at the mention of that December night. He must be bright red and he could sense Natasha’s stare on him, so he avoided it and looked through the window. He couldn’t help but look at the outside mirror on Katie’s side just to see she was ignoring him too.

“It’s long enough, trust me.” Katie shrugged.

And with that there was silence in the car for a few minutes. Everyone lost in their own thoughts. Until Natasha spoke up.

“Let’s do carpool karaoke!” Nat quipped as she motioned to switch the controls of the stereo. “Lighten up the mood a bit.”

“Fuck off, Romanoff.” both Katie and Steve said at the same time.

Steve heard Natasha laugh at them and groaned internally. Just what his head needed, two women singing along in the cabin of a car. But just as the voice of Carrie Underwood performing Before He Cheats filled the space he saw Katie still a little before she glanced at Romanoff who looked at her.

“Turn it over if you want…” “No, it’s ok….” Katie said with a shrug, as she began to hum the song. And Steve was thrown back to a karaoke night less than a year ago.

“I don’t believe it… Clint mumbled. Steve turned his head to see what his annoyance was and almost choked on his beer

"Seriously?” he mumbled, watching as Katie walked into the bar, hand in hand with Ward.

“What is she playing at?” Clint looked at Steve “Cap, we showed her the goddamned photos of him with that blonde broad wrapped around him, eating his face and she’s…”

Steve didn’t say anything as Clint trailed off, instead he simply observed Katie from afar as she walked across the room, stopping to say hi to Peralta and Santiago. She looked up, caught Steve’s eye and smiled at him. He smiled back and the smile slipped slightly as Ward dropped a kiss to her cheek and headed over to the bar.

Katie made her way over to him and Clint, holding her hand up in an instruction for them to keep quiet.

“I know what you’re gonna say…” she said, her voice dropping slightly as she cast an eye over to Grant, “And trust me, it’s taken me everything I have in me not to punch the cheating fucker in the face.”

“What are you still doing with him?” Clint practically exploded.

“You’ll see.” she said, and Steve arched an eyebrow as he saw the mischievous glint in her eye.

Steve looked at her and she shot him an innocent look and he snorted. She was anything but innocent.

“No Peggy?” she asked, looking round.

“No.” Steve said, shrugging. Truth be told they’d had an argument before, another one, this time about him leaving the milk out of the fridge. Ridiculous really, but over the last 6 months they’d been arguing constantly over stupid things like that. His last weekly email to Bucky had seen a reply telling him to finish it with her, but you don’t just walk out on the person you love when the going gets tough without trying to work it out. Certainly not in his books anyway, and especially not after 4 years. She was leaving for London in a few months to take up a 6 month placement with the force over there so maybe the time apart would do them some good. And when she came back…well, that’s when he was intending on popping the question. He looked at Katie who was eyeing him suspiciously and he hastily turned the attention back to her. Dropping his voice lower still he gently placed his arm on her shoulder “You ok?”

“Not at all?” she said, shaking her head and he could see she was fighting tears “I found out my boyfriend of 2 years, who moved in with me less than 4 months ago has been fucking someone else behind my back. Nothing about that is ok…”

“Come ‘ere… ” he said, opening his arms but she shook her head, wiping her eyes.

“I don’t want him thinking anything is wrong…gonna ruin my plan.” she said.

“What plan?” Clint pressed again.

“Like I said, you’ll see…”

They didn’t have to wait that long. The karaoke started and Peralta was first up with his rendition of 'Sweet Caroline’, then came Thor and 'Don’t Stop Believing’, which Steve was actually surprised was pretty good. It had them all dancing and cheering anyway. Then a few more, Steve all the time side eyeing Grant and Katie, the man pawing all over her. It was all the Captain could do to not lay him out. At one point he lost sight of Katie as she disappeared for about 10 minutes but the next time he looked for her, she was back, drink in hand, chatting to Natasha. And then to his surprise, Katie’s name was called. Steve and Clint shared a glance, they both knew Katie had a phenomenal voice but she NEVER did karaoke. The only time they ever heard it was in the car or when she was singing to something absentmindedly in a bar or a club. He saw Grant give her a surprised glance and she winked at him, leaning up to give him a kiss before she walked up to the small stage and took the mic.

And then Steve saw the title of the song on the screen and choked on his beer as his attention turned to Grant, whose smug grin had most certainly slipped. As she sang the words to the song, her eyes locked on Ward’s, Clint began to chuckle and Steve couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face as she sang. The song couldn’t have been more perfect, talks of cheating with a bleach blonde tramp…it was perfect, and the ultimate way to embarrass Ward, his smooth, composed front was fast ebbing away as the song went on, and as she launched into the final chorus, Steve realised she was changing the words as she sang.

“And I dug my keys into the side, of your pretty little silver Audi A5,

Carved my name into your leather seats…

I took a socket wrench to both headlights, slashed a hole in all 4 tyres,

Maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat…”

Steve saw Ward slip his hand into his pocket, swallowing, and then he glared at the stage. Katie dug into the rear pocket of her jeans and waved his keys at him, tossing them carelessly to the dance floor. As Katie stopped singing, the room fell silent and Ward strode forward, picked his keys up and practically ran from the bar. Katie took a deep breath, raised her chin defiantly and stepped down off the stage as chatter broke out again. Steve strode towards her, the same time Peralta, Clint, Diaz and Nat did, and she waved them all away insisting she was ok. Steve, however, slipped his hand into hers and dragged her to the bar.

“Have you really done his car over?” he whispered as he ordered them a bourbon. She nodded.

“Don’t worry, there’s no CCTV.” she shrugged. “I’ll deny it. Plus, I have a feeling I could summon about 13 different alibis if I wanted. Surprising how many people I will have been with all night whilst here…”

She took her drink in a shaking hand and necked in in one, just in time to hear Ward yelling across the bar.

“Uh oh…” she shrugged, sliding her empty glass across the bar as she turned to face him. “Don’t even try to deny it, Grant. You were spotted. On camera no less.”

Ward spluttered a little, before he took a deep breath. “Katie, honey, listen…”

“No Grant, I won’t.” she said, shaking her head “I told you the last time I wouldn’t take you back a second time…and, well…” she shrugged and from behind her, Steve could see her shoulders start to shake. “How could you?”

“I know, I’ve been an idiot…” he said, gently stepping towards her. He reached to grab her arms but she jerked back and almost fell into Steve.

“I got you…” he said gently as she moved back to step besides him. His arm dropped protectively round her waist and he turned his eyes to Ward.

“i think you better leave.”

“This has nothing to do with you Rogers.” Ward spat “Might have known you’d be there ready to swoop in.” “Oh have you heard yourself?” Katie snapped “He’s my friend, my best friend.”

Ward looked at Steve again, the Captain holding his gaze before Ward turned to Katie. “Kay…”

“You know I hate that name.” she shrugged “But I never bothered about it until now. Go away Grant. I’ve nothing to say to you. Don’t bother coming home tonight either. Your shit will be in bags outside the apartment tomorrow.” she spoke, before her voice took on an almost amused tone “Although you’ll need to collect it in an Uber, obviously…or maybe your blonde tramp can help…” At that Steve saw the anger cross Wards face and he stepped forward again “Now listen to me you little bitch…” He didn’t get any further, Steve stepped in front of Katie and shoved him hard in the chest “Don’t you dare speak to her like that…” “Back off…” Ward said, shoving him back. “This is between me and her…” “And she told you she has nothing to say…” “He’s right.” Katie said from behind him

“So, like I said, I think you better leave.”

Ward drew himself up to full height and for a second Steve thought he was going to punch him, which, would suit him as it would give him an excuse. Instead, he looked round the Captain at Katie who was stood behind him, her shoulder brushing the back of his arm.

“Don’t’ think I won’t; be pressing charges over my car.” he snarled.

She shrugged. “Please feel free, I’ll even take the statement from you myself if you want.” Ward glared at her, than he glanced at Steve, who arched an eyebrow. Ward laughed, bitterly “lemme guess, she was with you the whole time…” Steve merely shrugged, a grin on his face. Ward scoffed, looked once more at Katie before he turned and walked off.

“Fuck you…” Katie called loudly, and Steve turned to see her raised the middle finger of her right hand in the air, not even looking at Ward. About 30 seconds later she broke down.

He’d taken her back to his that night, sat on the couch as she cried and cried, simply holding her, stroking her hair until she fell asleep. He’d then covered her with a blanket, left a glass of water on the coffee table for her and headed to bed. Where he’d had another blazing row with Peggy about the fact he’d brought her home…

“You seen him since?” Steve asked Katie cautiously when he returned to reality.

“You know I ain’t. You were there the last time, when you and Tony kicked him out of my flat and then you changed my locks.” Katie answered her eyes lost on the road her head against the head rest.

“You ok, doll?” Steve asked her softly. He knew Grant Ward was still a sensitive topic even if she denied it.

“I’m fine. It feels like it was a lifetime ago.” she replied pursing her lips, her eyes not leaving the road.

*******

“Cap?”

Steve looked up from where he had been re-reading some notes in his office to see Natasha beckoning him over.

“You got something?”

“You could say that.” she mused. “I just finished the background checks and it turns out our man worked at the German Embassy, something to do with visas, but that’s not important….”

“O-kay…” Steve said, waiting for her to finish, but it was Katie that spoke next.

“Sara Klein was a Translator…and guess where she worked out of?” Katie looked at him her eyebrow raised, excitement in her tone. Steve, understanding immediately looked at her, smiling slightly.

“Another link to the Rumlow case.” he said, folding his arms.

She nodded. “We just need to link Ross to it.”

Steve turned to Natasha “We got anything from Tech on the phone records?” “We won’t until Monday.” she shook her head.

The three of them both fell into silence, all pondering something before Katie stood up, grabbing a few pads of Post Its off her desk.

“I’m gonna go over the stuff in the incident room.” she said, “See if I can find anything…” Steve nodded and watched her go.

“You know Diaz was gonna stab you in the heart last night?” Natasha blurted out once Katie was out of sight. “But, I stopped her. You’re welcome.”

Steve turned, pouting and was about to ask Nat what for but he decided against it when his eyes met her warning stare, it had ‘don’t play dumb with me, Rogers’ written all over.

“I didn’t kiss Wanda, she kissed me.” Steve protested.

“Yeah, I know. But she doesn’t” she said pointing with her thumb to the corridor that led to the incident room. “That’s the only reason she left with Storm.”

Steve sighed, deep down he knew Nat was right and he knew better than to start an argument about his love life with her.

“I hate what you did to her. And I’m not talking about last night.” Natasha said.

“You know…” Steve looked at Natasha. It was more a statement than a question. He knew that she knew, he’d overheard the conversation between the two of them a few weeks ago but he was still surprised that Natasha was admitting to it.

“Yes, she told me. She needed someone to pour her heart out.” she shrugged.

“If it had been me you had ran out on, I would have ripped your head off and used it as doormat.” she said between gritted teeth “But, I want you two together so…”

“Nat, look…” Steve began to say.

“Don’t Nat me, Rogers.” she said between gritted teeth “You two belong together, that I know. So, stop dancing around each other and do something about it. Oh, and not creating chaos while trying would be nice. I’m trying to wipe my ledger, Rogers, help a girl out, will ya?”

Steve nodded smiling softly at her and she nodded back patting his shoulder.

“Look, why don’t you get off.” he said. “It’s getting late and there’s nothing more we can do now.” Nat nodded “Sure thing Cap.”

Steve smiled at her and as he headed out of the office and strode down the corridor. As he walked he felt his phone go and he pulled it out to read a text from Bucky.

“I’m out for the night, Punk. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…or do do something I woud…read into that what you will…” With a roll of his eyes he slid his phone back into his pocket and opened the door to the Incident Room, Katie was sat on the desk, her legs swinging as she stared at the board he noticed was now littered with coloured post it notes.

“What am I missing?” she sighed “Steve, there has to be something here that links Ross to this, I can feel it I just…” she slammed her hand on the desk and sighed, rubbing at her temple. Steve remained silent for a moment as she frowned and then moved towards the board.

“Bucky and Clint followed up on the whole goat hair thing, right?” she said.

“Yeah…” “Well look at this.” she said, beckoning him over. He crossed the room and looked to where her finger was pointing. It was a line on one of Ross’ Bank Statements.

“Green Bale Animal Feeds…” he frowned.

“Yeah, why would he be buying stuff from there?”

“To feed animals.” Steve pondered, and then his brain suddenly clicked as he looked at her “But we didn’t’ find any evidence of Ross having a farm or animals of his own…”

“Could be a screen for something…” she shrugged.

Steve debated it for a moment before he grabbed a post it, wrote the letters FFI- For Further Investigation- and slapped it on the paper before he turned to Katie “Honey, its late, I just sent Natasha home and I think you should go too.” “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” she said, “Not much else we can do…” “Well get yourself home, I’ll be right behind you once I’ve sorted an Uber.” “Still no car?”

“Got a hire arriving Monday” he shrugged.

She took a deep breath, “Don’t call an Uber. I’ll drop you.” “You sure?”

“Course.” she nodded “What are friends for?”

“Ok, well gimme 5 and I’ll grab my jacket and shut everything down.” he smiled. She nodded and he turned to go, pausing slightly to look back at her before he headed to his office. This was a good sign, right? She’d been ok with him all day and was now offering him a lift home…

Closing his computer down, he turned off the lights to his office and smiled as he looked up and saw Katie at her desk, pulling on her jacket. She paused and rummaged in her drawer, her face frowning.

“Lose something?” he asked, shutting the door to his office. “Yeah my emergency chocolate.” she moaned “Just when I’m ready to tackle food I can’t find anything.” “Well…” Steve began “Bucky’s out tonight…if you want, I mean, only if you want, we could swing by the diner grab some hangover busting junk and slob out at mine…” “Been a while since we did that.” she said after a pause, with a small smile.

“That a yes?” he said, raising his eyebrow, grinning.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, the smile still on her face “Fine, but I’m picking the movie.” ******

After eating all the greasy food their system was able to process on one go and a couple of beers each, they were snuggled on Steve’s couch watching Seven. Katie’s pick, “For research purposes” she claimed, nothing to do with the fact she thought Brad Pitt was hot, at all.

“Tracy Mills looks an awful lot like Pepper.” Steve mused, his eyes on the screen while he rubbed Katie’s back as her head lay on his shoulder.

“Yes” Katie giggled “You know I’ve always thought if they made a film about our lives Morgan Freeman would be a good Fury.”

“Hah, Samuel L. Jackson would play Fury better.” Steve said wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Katie conceded with a snort.

“Who do you think would play your part?” Steve asked her kissing the top of her head.

“Kate Beckinsale.” she said totally convinced of her answer and Steve chuckled.

“Possibly, she’s pretty.”

“What about you, Captain?” she said, sitting up and stretching her hand up to scratch gently at the stubble on his face. “Any handsome bearded Hollywood hot actor come to mind?”

“Quite a few now that you mention it…” he said playfully.

Steve saw her looking at him intently while she continued tracing patterns in his stubble and leaned on her hand, considering kissing the hell out of her right then and there.

“Did Wanda like it? Your stubble?” Katie suddenly asked her glance hardening and Steve felt his heart skip a beat.

“What the fuck, Katie?” he asked annoyed.

“Just asking, some women find it a bit rough.” she shrugged.

“I don’t know about that. Did you? Not like it mattered much to you when you were eating Storm’s face outside the Compound” Steve bit back, fed up with Katie bratty outbursts.

“Don’t start Steve…” Katie looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly “You have no right to lecture me considering the fact you were sat at the bar eating Wanda’s face! Talk about keeping it in-house…”

She stood up off the couch and Steve sighed. “That wasn’t…” he shook his head as he too stood, needing to make her understand “That wasn’t what you think.” “I don’t think anything Steven.” she shot back.

Steven? What the fuck?

“Oh, so I’m Steven now?” he snorted, his hands falling to his belt buckle.

“Would you prefer Captain? Or Rogers? Or ass hole?” she glared back, folding her arms.

“I prefer it when you don’t behave like a fucking brat.” he stared back, and saw her face darken as her eyes flashed angrily.

“Me? I’m a fucking brat?” she scoffed “You’re the one kicking off about me kissing someone else when you fucked me and left me!”

Steve took a deep breath as she continued, her pace and volume increasing as her rant continued

“You had your chance and you blew it, so what is this?” she threw her arms out to the sides bringing them back down with a slap “You don’t want me but don’t want anyone else to have me either is that it? Fuck you Steve, fuck you!”

“Katie, just don’t…”he said, a little wearily. He was tired of going round in this circle. Truth be told she was so far off the mark it was ridiculous.

“What? Truth hurts?” she scoffed. “You’re such a…” she took a deep breath and stopped. She pressed her lips together, shaking her head as her shoulders sagged, almost in defeat “You know what, I can’t…I can’t be here right now. We can’t keep doing this. I need to go.”

She turned to leave but Steve quickly grabbed her arm to stop her.

“Katie…” “Go fuck yourself…” she said, jerking her hand out of his hold “Actually, no, go fuck Wanda, sure she’ll be thrilled…”

“I don’t fucking want Wanda!” Steve exploded, before he could stop himself “I want you.” There was a pause, the room falling silent. Katie’s eyes widened slightly and she swallowed as she stood, frozen to the spot. Steve let out a loud breath and ran his hand through his hair.

“You’re right, we can’t keep doing this.” he said, his voice softer “And I can’t keep hiding the way I feel. I get it, I fucked up, but I’m done looking for forgiveness…”

He stepped towards her, as she remained watching him, her eyes not leaving his for a second. And then, it was like something in his brain took over. He was done, done waiting, done trying to push his feelings down and ignore them.

“And I’m way passed asking for permission…” he said, and with that he grabbed her hips and with a sharp pull he jerked her towards him, his lips crashing to hers. It took her a second but then she reciprocated, her arms sliding up round his neck as his hands wrapped around her back, pulling her closer, pouring every single bit of emotion and frustration he’d felt over the past few months into the kiss. It was urgent, it was desperate, and he had to bite back the growl of frustration when she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“Steve…” she whispered, her eyes closing as his forehead dropped to rest against hers “Don’t…”

“Don’t what?” he asked softly.

“Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish.” she opened her eyes which were full of tears and looked at him “Because…damned it Steve! It’s you, it’s always been you…” at that she turned her head away slightly, “…and I can’t cope with another rejection and…” “Shhhhh” he said gently, his hands reaching up to cup her face “Look at me…” She turned back to him and he locked his eyes onto hers “Give me another chance, please.” “But work…” she looked at him, as he wiped away the tear that had fallen down her face with his thumb. “What about that? How do I know this is gonna end up any different to last time?”

“Fuck work.” he said earnestly, because he meant it. He damned well meant it. “As soon as this case is over I’ll talk to Fury and we’ll work it out…” “But…” “But nothing! Look…” he cut her off, his eyes boring into hers as he spoke, driving his words home, her face held gently in his large hands. “This is my choice. And I know that I’m like the world’s leading authority on waiting too long but, if you give me another chance, then I swear to God I’ll never let you go again sweetheart.” He paused as more tears fell from her beautiful green eyes and he once more wiped them away as he continued “I should never have let you go last time. Watching the woman I love walk away was… “What did you just say?” she whispered, her eyes widening slightly. He swallowed, as in all honestly he hadn’t meant to say that, but fuck was it true. He did love her, he’d loved her for years and wasted so much fucking time. Well not anymore.

“You heard.” he said, swallowing before pressed his forehead back to hers, “I love you.” Silence…and for a horrible moment Steve thought she was going to push him away. But her hands slid up and wrapped around his neck, pulling him back down to her, kissing him desperately.

“Fuck I missed you…” Steve all but growled in to her mouth as she reached down for the bottom of his t-shirt and yanked it upwards, almost desperately.

“We spent one night together…” she said back, breathlessly.

“Yeah but it was a damned good night…” he said, his lips back on hers as his hands flew to her baby pink button down. His fingers fumbled on the second button and he broke away to look down. “oh fuck it…” he muttered giving a harsh tug, ripping it open.

“Seriously?” she looked up at him, he shrugged as his hands gripped her face and he kissed her again, desperately, as his hands moved round to unhook her bra. Tossing it somewhere to the side he pressed hot kisses down the side of her neck, hissing against her skin as she undid his belt and dropped it to the floor. In a quick move that made her squeak slightly, he reached down and grabbed her ass, hauling her off the floor, her legs wrapping around his waist as he backed her up against the door which led to the hallway, her back hitting it a little harder than he had intended, drawing a soft grunt from her mouth as it rattled in the frame.

“Ow…” she said, grabbing a fist full of his hair and tugging harshly so he looked at her. He gave an apologetic grin before his lips gently latched one to her neck again, sucking at the pulse point. She gave a soft sigh as he nipped at the skin before his attention moved down and he traced the swell of her breast with his mouth, his tongue flicking at her nipple, one hand grasping at her hip, the other pressing against the door by her head. She gave a low moan and her hips pushed down against the bulge in his trousers and he pressed into her, giving her the friction she was asking for. Her hands skimmed down his back, fingers tracing his spine as he pushed up again and then he couldn’t take it anymore. He set her gently on her feet and his hands flew to her jeans, undoing the button before he slid them down and she stepped out of them. No sooner had he got rid of them he hooked one leg over his shoulder as he knelt before her, shifting her soaked panties to one side. At the first touch of his mouth she cried out, one hand falling to his head, the other palms slapping against the wooden surface behind her as she pressed further into it, keeping herself up-right as she writhed at his actions.

Her taste was just how he remembered, and he couldn’t get enough. His tongue and lips worked in tandem, un-doing her lap by lap all the time begging him not to stop, which he had no intention of doing anyway until she had come undone. It wasn’t long before her grip in his hair tightened and her leg trembled slightly and he felt her stiffen above him.

“Fuck, Steve…”she stuttered, as his tongue worked her over, and he glanced up as she gave a loud cry, her head falling forward before it fell back again against the wall with a hard thud. She grasped his shoulder as her leg gave way and Steve stood up, catching her easily, a grin on his face as she opened one eye and looked at him, her pupils blown with lust, her thighs once more locked round his waist. He kissed her again, the kiss absolutely filthy as he stepped back and opened the door and walked them down the hall to his bedroom.

She knelt upon the bed, her hair falling over her face as she hooked her fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and pulled him to her, undoing his flies before she slid his pants and boxers down in one full swoop, taking him in her mouth without so much as a warning.

“Shit…” he mumbled, his hands tangling into her hair, guiding her softly as she moved, her head bobbing back and forth before she pulled away to lick along the base of his shaft and he knew then if she carried on he was going to blow his load before he’d even gotten to the main event.

With a gentle shove he pushed her back on the bed, stepping out of his jeans, reaching down for his socks before he crawled over her, pulling her underwear down. He didn’t even give her a chance to say anything before he gave her ankles a soft tug, pulling her down further on the bed, crawling between her legs. He kissed her again, hands on either side of her face as he buried himself inside of her, with a loud groan.

“God you feel so good…”his mouth moved over her jaw to her ear as he praised her, nipping at the lobe, his pace set right from the off as fast, and desperate. Because he was, he was desperate for this woman. Desperate like he’d never been desperate before.

“Stevie…” she groaned, hands clawing at his back, clearly as needy for him as he was her. Releasing one of her hands, he reached down to hook a leg over his shoulder causing her to cry out loud at the change of angle and depth as he continued to drive into her like his life depended on it. He bent over to kiss her, swallowing another loud moan as he did, feeling her sweat soaked skin slick against his.

“Fuck, baby I’m close…” he stuttered, “You close, tell me you’re close…”

“Don’t stop…” she panted, her head falling back further onto his pillow as she grasped his arms whilst he continued to fuck her into the mattress before she gave a low, sultry whimper and her eyes fluttered shut, nails digging into his bicep as she shuddered underneath him, her back arching.

“Shit, doll…” he groaned before he surrendered to the utter bliss, tumbling over the edge of the precipice he had been teetering on. With a final, deep thrust he collapsed on top of her, the room silent bar the sounds of their deep, heavy breathing as they both came down, fighting for control. He felt her hands gently move round to tangle in his hair, nails scratching his scalp and he raised his head, eyes still closed, enjoying her touch.

“Hey…” she said, still slightly out of breath and he opened his eyes to see her looking up at him, her cheeks flushed, hair all over the place and fuck, he’d never seen anything so damned beautiful in his life.

“Hey…” he smiled back, before he leaned down to give her a soft kiss, this one tender, full of love, a stark contrast from the heated, desperate ones that had been shared before. He smoothed her hair back before he pressed his forehead to hers, his nose bumping hers and she gave a soft giggle as he kissed her again before rolling off and landing on his back, eyes closed, his hand rubbing his chest. He was starting to ache a little bit, the bruises from his accident still not completely healed, and if he was honest, he’d probably over done it a little, but did he give a shit? Not one.

“You ok?” Katie asked and he turned his head to look at her, giving her a smile.

“Never been better.” he said honestly, and she smiled, leaning over to give him a kiss. She pulled away and looked at him. “Is Bucky due back?”

“Fuck knows.” he shrugged “Why?”

“Because our clothes are thrown all over the living room.” Steve contemplated that for a moment before he nodded “Good point.”

With a soft groan he heaved himself up and shot into the living room, leaving her giggling in his bedroom as he quickly collected the items along with a bottle of water and headed back into the bedroom. He dropped their clothes in a pile on the floor and smiled as he saw Katie had worked her way under the covers.

“You should have just thrown that shirt out.” she said, taking the water off him with a thanks.

“Yeah, sorry about that…” he said, a little meekly as he slid into the bed next to her “I’ll buy you a new one.” “Damned right you will, that was Ralph Lauren.” she said, offering him the water bottle.

“Fuck…” he groaned “Trust me to ruin a hundred dollar shirt.” “You telling me it wasn’t worth it?” she pouted and he chuckled, laying back, placing the bottle on his bedside table.

“Sweetheart, I’d ruin a thousand of the damned things if it ended like that each time.”

With a soft laugh she snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his chest. With a soft, contented sigh he dropped a kiss to the top of her head, his hand rubbing at her back as her leg tangled with his.

As they lay in silence, Steve’s hand softly carding through Katie’s hair, a feeling of utter contentment spread across the Captain’s chest. The stress and angst of the last few months had completely ebbed away and as they lay there in their own little bubble, totally at peace, Steve knew he’d never be as happy as he was when she was in his arms.

Steve woke some time later, with her back pressed to his chest. He realised what had woken him when she gently untangled herself from him to head into the en-suite. It wasn’t long before she came back and snuggled into him, her face pressing into his chest, his hands gently rubbing her back.

“Did you mean it?” her voice broke the silence

“Hmm?” he mumbled, still drifting in that space between sleep and consciousness.

“What you said earlier, that you love me…” he felt pull back slightly “Did you mean it?””

Ok so that woke him up. He opened his eyes and glanced down at her to see her watching him. He took a deep breath and nodded “Of course I meant it.”

She studied him for a second, her eyes bright before she smiled and leaned up to give him a soft kiss.

“I kinda love you too…” she whispered against his mouth. At her words Steve felt the huge, shit eating grin spread across his face. His hand crept into the back of her hair as he kissed her again before she pulled away, her finger tracing shapes on his chest.

“You’re thinking about something.” Steve watched her, almost nervously “I can tell. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong…not really” she said, before she looked up at him, grinning “I just realised that we’ve had sex four times now…granted 3 of those times were on the same night but, that’s by the by…”

Steve chuckled as she continued to talk. “…we’ve admitted to each other that we love one another…and you’ve not taken me on a single date yet.”

Steve blinked before he let out a soft huff “Yeah, that’s…kinda shameful. And something I’ll rectify real soon…” “Oh will you?” She asked playfully as he moved, rolling her onto her back.

“Yep.” he nodded, his left leg parting both hers “Thought I could take you to dinner one evening next week.” he said, his lips gently brushing her neck before he placed a single kiss under her ear “we’ll head into Manhattan…” another kiss as he worked his way downwards “Grab somethin’ to eat…” a peck to her collar bone as she sighed, tipping her head backwards “a few drinks…” his nose traced a path up her neck and over her chin “sound good?”

She nodded as a soft sigh escaped her mouth.

“Now, you mentioned something about 3 times in one night?” he quipped cheekily. Her eyes flew open and she gave him a grin as his lips once more claimed hers before he whispered “I can do this all night.”

@momobaby227 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @charmed-asylum

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers x original female character #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #tony stark #thor odinson

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crazyspookies · 7 years ago

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ZRS7M3+4

Ok i left this one out last time cos it got really long so here we go! :)

1) I have never cared for valmont i don’t give a shit what he always seems to be helping us. He’s creepy and i don’t like him. if Amelia, of all people, keeps giving hints that he’s actually terrible then i’m very much inclined to believe he is. Also, the way he made amelia have to say “i love you” as a password to get control of annie is especially creepy considering she left him and is now with someone else.

ALSO, WHY ARE WE GIVING HIM ALL THAT BLACKMAIL INFORMATION??? HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING?? HE USED TO BE AN INFO DEALER JUST LIKE AMELIA AND I DON’T BELIEVE FOR A SECOND THAT HE HAS A SHRED OF GOOD INSIDE HIM, AND WE’RE JUST GOING TO GIVE HIM CRITICAL INFO THAT HE VERY MUCH COULD USE AGAINST MANY PEOPLE INCLUDING US??? HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING?!?!

And honestly thre’s a couple theories here. Either he’ll give some of that info to amelia as a creepy come back to me present and we’ll have to deal with both of them doing shit to us or my main theories: When amelia left him, it’s been said that she took a couple things from him. We don’t know what those things were and i don’t want to believe they were nothing important because if you’re Amelia and you’re going to fuck off then might as well grab something valuable with you. And he’s saying he’s all god with it’s like “hah haha im good with it but i’m actually not really and i’m going to destroy you when i see the perfect oportunity to do so. And that’s what i think he’s doing, being all nice and shit until he finally snaps. The only reason he gave to help us was because of amelia’s involvement. So whether he is already pissed or he finally gets it in his head that she’s not coming back to him, we’re gonna have a problem eventually.

And on that note, Amelia helping Abel was 1) we tricked sigrid into thinking amelia was on our side 2) This alliance going on cos she wanted to get the babies back. Well, we got the babies back. I don’t think she’s going to stay nice to us any longer than she wants to

2) “Collected Alejandro de chinchilla” lmao i laughed so much i didn’t expect that

3) “But what’s the point of getting cure side effects when we can get some fresh air instead?” Sooooo what...side effects does the cure have?cosss i don’t remember anything about side effects and there is no comment on this line at all 🔍 🔍 👀 👀

4) “Lots of theories about how societies break down, and more importantly, rebuild. “ I would love tho hear those theories it sounds really interesting. do you think this guy used to be a sociologist ir something?

I really love seeing what other communities within london and what their uhh “personalities” and general ideas they have adopted to represent as such.

Little venice sounds super loveley and also rally worring (blood in a primary classroom?!?), what people habitated it so that they were fans of runner five? Obviously they wound¡t be all that cool with sigrid in that case. Children even making drawing of them, it might e such a strange thing to walk into i feel? Did five ever interact with them, are there stories going around about what they did and what they’re like?

The people living in trains is so picturesque but also, they have a People Alarm! Like, having a zombie alarm? normal, but having a people alarm shows how distrustful they might be of strangers. Either by general concensus or by experience, these people have chosen to keep together and isolate themselves from others.

The Welsh separatist colony with their like of order and rules believe everything sigrid say and to be fair?? why wouldn’t they? England is big and its full of people and borders and if you like the way someone organizes things and makes your community generally better then i guess you just go and believe them, especially if you don’t really have all that many information about what might be going on underwraps. And i’m sure her downfall doesn’t really help their opinion of us, given that things have gone a bit chaotic since then by what valmont tells us.

5) BRENT VALMONT: Entirely understandable, but… there’s a power vacuum at the heart of this country. If you don’t fill it, there are plenty of other undesirables more than willing to do so. You didn’t get rid of Sigrid just to replace her with another Sigrid either, did you?

Again, i have 0 trust in valmont not using this to his own advantage but if he isn’t an actual asshole and doesn’t betray us, can’t we just ask around for a floppy disk reader?? because im sure that there has to be someone in england that had an old ass pc with one, there’s no need to give valmont blackmail information when we could just.....keep it. It’s safest with us!. If we use it, we’ll probably use it well, and if we don’t want to use it, we can just keep it and let it rot somewhere secret

1) We’re talking about sam’s sister also i don’t think sigrid was lying, and maybe nicky is somewhere she doesn’t get much wind of whats going on or something esle is going on with her?....You know what would be absolutley horrible and heartbreaking? If sigrid told her sam killed their mom for nothing and she’s not dealing well with that. But yeah probably something esle is going on, but i bet she’s alive.

2) Peter is such a fucking dork lmao the conversation about nicky that h started ended up making him feel akward and he ttly said the thing about the spiderweb to distract sam and himself. The first time i played the mission i didn’t think of this cos....you know, it’s peter, of course something weird is going to happen around him, but today i played the voice clips on the trin cos i was bored and i was like wait that dumdum id doing the thing he did about regrowing his hand in s3 to shift the attention to something else in the weirdest way possible

3) Whatever good ever came from being around lots of mannequins in an horror setting

5) “the hardiest” yeah u tell him janine.He’s still on the self hate train but then again it’s a hard ride to get off from. Baby steps.

6) “Oh, but you, on the other hand… sometimes I think the others forget you’re still human, Five. You’ve survived so much, they think you’re immortal. You’re not that unlucky.“

one thing i really love is how a few days before running this mission i was talking on discord about...how much it would sting for my five when simon and amelia are like “we’re here because you’re an symbol to people” and five knows that’s not simon’s only reason but...it’s still shitty to hear and its not like they’re on the best of terms at the moment. And on this mission peter says this and i had the same reaction i had then. First i was like omg he remembers im a person too that’s so thoughtful of him :’) and then i took me...some time to read this over and let it sink in and im like...you little shit you’re doing that self-centered pity thing again you ttly got me. Like, he’s doing both, being thoughtful and being a self flagelating salty bitch in just a couple sentences. Like when he started talking about his hand in s3. He did it both because he wanted to distract five from listening to moonchild’s minions, but also because he really wanted to get his self pity monologue and needed someone else to indulge him that was not amelia (who probably threatened to kick him out of the running van if he complained to her again) bottom line is i love this boy and i want to tell him that he needs to cut that shit out and try to be vicious about himself

7) The thing about the growing his head back is very valid and i remember when i read Ajin that they tackled this as the only way to kill an Ajin. When you cut their limbs the old limb disappears to be replaced with a new one; so the only way to “kill” an ajin is to be decapitated, because the conciousness of the old head, still alive, will disappear at the same time the new head grows (with its own conciousness attached to it (like, scientifically speaking conciousness is created by the brain, so if you destroy the brain your conciousness dies. if you believe in souls and all that then i guess you can argue about more possibilities when it comes of ‘’what makes a person, a person’’ But then again we’r talking about people growing new heads, and people transmitting their conciousness to machines, soo....). Although whether a new body would grow from the head or a new head would gow from his body (or both) is actually pretty interesting.

8) I have been thinking about his whole thing with immortality too. Like, either he’s try to make maxine find a way to make him go back to normal or eventually he’ll ask her to make another serum like we did with van ark to be able to euthanise himself when the time is right?

#zombies run #zrs7 #zrs7 spoilers #i keep forgetting i have this in my drafts #fennel's zr recaps

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sunlitroom · 8 years ago

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Gotham – s4e09 – Let Them Eat Pie

As I watched it, and some random observations here and there.

Previously on Gotham:

Bruce killed R'as and started down a dark path. This path is so well trodden by Gotham's citizens at this point that it should really have vending machines and little benches along the way - is there anyone at this point who hasn't offed someone? Bruce acts out. Oswald has met Martin. Harvey made a mistake. Jim took over as captain in the coldest way possible. What did you do to get it? Ha - a sneaky cut there shows us Jim and Sofia on the couch. Oh Jim - all those noble intentions about not dancing to Carmine’s tune when you came to town way back in s1e1, and you wound up the Falcones’ bitch after all. Pyg and his endless fucking talking.

As always, long post will be long. There are likely to be rambling digressions. Gobblepot might appear (although I welcome all shippers and non-shippers alike :)). There will be naked favouritism and naked not-favouritism. Broader comments at the end on plotlines and parallels and general direction.

Someone who is clearly Pyg in disguise is handing out donuts to the homeless. Between Oswald's poisoned Cannoli, and the drugged pastry Ed fed the mayor, Gotham seems very concerned with making sure we never accept free pastries. He's disguised as a priest, which I think is a very specific offence. He lures some to go with him with the promise of pie, ushering them into a van

Say no to free pastries, and don't get into vans with theatrical strangers

Pyg has taken them to an empty building of some sort. He's photographing the homeless people he lured away and pinning the pictures to a wall. He's also wittering on about divisions in society, and saying he knows how it feels to feel like a ‘have not’. After a few mouthfuls of his pie, the people round the table all slump. Pyg gloats that he's going to show the ‘haves’ a lesson.

In a makeshift kitchen, he takes off his disguise and begins to butcher the corpses.

Let's begin - shall we?

At the precinct, a man is painting Jim's name on the door of the Captain’s office, while, inside, Harvey is still clearing his stuff out. Ouch.

I'll be out of your way in just a second, captain

Jim says this isn't how he wanted things to go down, but this vaguely regretful look doesn't tally with how cold and self-righteous he was last week when relieving Harvey of duty - so fuck you, Jim.

Harvey says he was thinking about their first case. He says that if Jim had killed Oswald, then Falcone would still be running things, and a lot of people who are dead would be alive today.

(An aside - what now? Am I misremembering things, and Falcone was actually some kind of jolly Santa Claus figure? I'm not sure why we keep getting this bizarre nostalgia. Plus, it completely discounts that both Fish and Maroni were jockeying for position too.)

Jim says that if he could go back he'd do exactly the same thing. Harvey says Jim doesn't understand how the city works: it doesn't need heroes - it needs people who'll do what's necessary. In a staggering display of hypocrisy, Jim tells him that he's wrong:

if you show them the way, people will follow

He also tells Harvey that when his leave is over - there's a desk waiting for him - but Harvey replies that he has no desire to sit and watch Jim all day. He leaves, and Jim is left standing alone. For the second time now, we’ve seen him in that office – but not in the Captain’s chair.

(An aside – it’s probably Gotham’s old problem of inconsistency week to week, but Jim’s sudden sadface is not in keeping with his behaviour last week. Also, Harvey seems to have lost 4 seasons’ worth of characterisation and gone back to his earliest version of himself. On top of that, Jim’s not even going to see him until he gets back from leave? Not check up on his self-destructive friend at all? This isn’t in keeping with how close they are at all. Why has a big reset button been hit on their friendship?)

At the orphanage, Sofia's arranging flowers.

Oswald enters the room, says the flowers are beautiful and assures her that the benefit will be a success. Sofia says she hopes so - she wants the wealthy to fund the orphanage.

Oswald however, has to decline, and says something has come up. She asks if it's the thing in the Narrows with his former Chief of Staff. Oswald shakes his head – and tells her that it’s more serious – Jim’s promotion.

Sofia asks if he's worried. Oswald smiles and says the issue is the person who ordered the appointment. Sofia deflects – commenting that the mayor is a weasel. Os isn't buying this, though, and says that someone has got to the mayor, and when Oswald finds out who is really behind it, there will be a reckoning.

(An aside - someone at Gotham loves Hannibal)

Sofia looks thoughtful for a moment. She tells him Martin is doing a song tonight with the other children, and smiles before leaving..

Mr Penn scurries over, looking anxious. He tells Oswald to have Victor ‘talk’ to Sofia if he suspects that she’s responsible, but Oswald says she is literally his only friend. Mr Penn delicately asks if she's actually murdered the mayor. Oswald considers this – what if he’s

Chasing a ghost while she’s preparing her next move

He needs someone discreet, someone to get close to her. He has a brainwave. Oswald is going to recruit Martin

Oh Oswald. No. This is a bad idea.

In the hallway outside, Sofia was apparently lurking outside the door - listening to their noisy conversation. She calls Jim. Jim picks up and tries to be all stern, saying that they're done.

Jim - you don't get to keep the captaincy and stay on your moral high horse. You’re bought and paid for, Captain Blond.

Sofia tells him Oswald suspects something. Jim asks if she warned the mayor. She says she did. He says it sounds as if she has her bases covered and tells her not to call again, after insincerely thanking her for the heads up about Oswald. He hangs up. She looks at the phone in some consternation.

Jim walks on up the stairs where Harper is answering the phone. Jim picks up and immediately says Sofia

Wrong, try again

It's Pyg. He asks Jim if he remembers how he told him about the rot in Gotham, from high to low. As he speaks, Pyg is setting up the final touches on some tent. As he leaves, he tells Jim to hurry out for a taste of what's to come.

(An aside - Jim’s slip-up here, and Pyg’s failure to be shocked by it further undermines all the incorruptible Jim Gordon stuff from Pyg, and points again to a plan from Sofia)

As Jim and Harper enter the tent, we see the corpses of two of the homeless people dressed up in 18th century aristocratic clothes, pigs snorting round the table, and a card saying vive la revolution

Jim wants the area closed off, as he’s saying this, one of the people gawping in at the tent comments that one of the pigs is starting to eat a corpse.

(And another Hannibal nod - this is Mason Verger’s thing.)

The kitchens at Wayne Manor. Bruce stumbles in and brattily demands breakfast at lunchtime. Alfred tries to reach out to him, but Bruce is not responding. Alfred reminds him he killed Ra’s. Bruce takes out his phone and tries to ignore him. Alfred asks him he remembers what day it is. Bruce explodes – it’s the day of the annual camping tradition, where they lay stones at the top of some nearby hill. He takes the stones out, inscribed with Bruce and Thomas’ initials, and tells him to remember whose son he is. If I’m honest, I’d guess that comparing his current behaviour to his father’s is probably already part of Bruce’s self-flagellation routine, but I can see why Alfred tried it.

In the morgue, Jim is explaining to Jim that the homeless people seem to have had their organs removed. Jim puzzles aloud about why Pyg said the victims would be rich and powerful if he was going to target the homeless. Lucius points out that Jim wants logic from psychopaths, and suggests that he’s using them to make a statement.

Jim says the homeless population is densest in the Narrows. As he leaves, Lucius comments that it’s a hell of a first day to be captain.

At the Narrows, Jim is sending officers out to search. Harper tells him that traces of the chemicals found on the corpses are used in paper manufacturing. Jim fortuitously remembers an abandoned paper factory nearby, and they head off.

As soon as they enter, they see there's a corpse lying on a table, a hole where an organ should be. Harper asks what he’s doing. Jim says he’s taking organs and – on seeing a grill nearby – adds:

He's cooking them

There’s a sound, and Jim and Harper hare off after it. Pyg manages to sneak up on Harper and (I think) stab her in the chest/shoulder. He tells Jim to drop his gun. Harper tells Jim to shoot the bastard, but Jim drops the gun instead. Pyg says they found him too soon (he really is quite shit), and chortles that the table is not yet set. Jim offers himself as a hostage, but Pyg says he must see the final act. Knocking Harper out, he hauls her into the van and drives off. Jim looks after them, looking faintly put out.

A brief scene to demonstrate that Alfred and Kevin the teenager have indeed gone to the woods.

In a room at the iceberg lounge, we see that Oswald has made Martin a suit for the fundraiser. They communicate with each other through the mirror, emphasising that while they might want to communicate with each other, there’s deception and manipulation acting as a barrier.

Oswald comments that Sofia is

Quite a lady isn't she? A friend to both of us.

Or is she? He tells Martin that he worries Sofia is only pretending to be Oswald’s friend, and using Martin. Martin frowns, and draws a question mark on his pad. Oswald tells him that he’s been running it over in his mind, and there’s two possible ways she’s done this.

The first – she chose a specific orphan to place in his path, told his how to act, groomed him….

Martin shakes his head violently at this, panicked and upset. Oswald backs down from this line of thought, and suggests option two, that she just collected group of children hoping one would gain his trust and make him easier to manipulate. Martin looks tearful.

Oswald tells him that in the second version, he is innocent (Oswald, he’s innocent in both – because he’s a child) and that this is the version he badly wants to believe.

To prove his friendship, he wants Martin to spy on Sofia. Martin nods his head, and Oswald offers his hand. His face working, he asks Martin not to let him down, please. As Oswald walks away, we see that Martin is crying.

(An aside. A number of things with this scene.

First of all – in what we’re being presented, Martin is under a horrible amount of strain. I think Sofia has set him up from the beginning, or at least pushed hard – which puts her on the same list as Tabitha, for me. I think Martin does genuinely want to be friends with Oswald, and now he’s in a horrible, dreadful situation. As for Oswald, he’s allowing his own hang-ups free rein, and is placing a massive amount of strain on a child. It’s more sincere than Sofia, if that makes sense, his emotional involvement is genuine, more meaningful, and not motivated by anything – but it’s still inappropriate to place that burden on a child.

As discussed elsewhere with @rhavewellyarnbag and @maysgreatnewusername, though, given how manipulative and demanding Getrud was (and Elijah, imo), I think that Oswald is under the impression that this is how relationships work – specifically parent/child relationships. Getrud was jealous and demanding (and pretty unstable, imo). From Oswald’s behaviour, he was practised in placating and comforting her. He’s not especially reflective about that relationship, though – and maybe never will be, now – and so instead of recognising that it wasn’t healthy, he instead sort of operates within its parameters.

Secondly – this just didn’t feel solid to me, and I think I’ve figured out why. I just don’t buy that Oswald is so emotionally committed to the idea of friendship with Sofia. That has really been highlighted by his interactions with Martin, where I think you can see genuine emotional engagement.

As such – I don’t think I really believe the lengths he’s going to ascertain her sincerity. He’s mistrusted her from the outset with good reason. I don’t buy that the relationship is emotionally fulfilling enough to outweigh that – it’s too laced with doubt and suspicion, and Oswald finds neither tolerable. At this point, it feels more realistic to me that he would just write her off as too risky, tell Mr Penn to legally extract Martin, and either destroy her or withdraw totally into a Cold War situation.)

At the Narrows, Jim is barking orders about Harper's search. The press ask questions. Jim says he believes Pyg is responsible. A reporter asks how people can be kept safe if they can't keep officers safe. Another asks whether Jim will be pushed aside like Harvey Bullock was if he fails. Jim winces. Another asks about the rumour of cooking victims. A disgruntled Jim asks who told him that.

Back in the paper factory. Jim angrily remarks that someone leaked to press about the cooked victims. Lucius suggests Pyg – which does make sense – and tells Jim everyone is on his side. He also tells him there’s something he has to see.

Pyg's left a quote from A Modest Proposal. Lucius recognises it because he’s pretty wonderful:

“I grant this food will be somewhat dear, and therefore very proper for Landlords, who, as they have already devoured most of the Parents, seem to have the best Title to the Children.”

(An aside – yeuch, Pyg and his posey little undergraduate affectations.)

He explains that it's an argument for cannibalism – eating the poor. Jim extrapolates from the text that it’s specifically talking about orphans, and heads off alone to the Orphanage. As he suspects that it’s a trap – and doesn’t want to be caught out like Harvey, he says he’ll go alone.

At the orphanage, Sofia is in the kitchens. Pyg shows up in a chef disguise and says he’s made a change to the menu – Gotham meat pies instead of the pre-arranged menu. Hiding organs underneath a pastry lid doesn’t exactly take much work. Hannibal would turn his nose up at all this.

In the woods, Alfred tries, while Bruce sulks. Alfred tells the story of how he met Thomas. He was on a self-destructive path after the army, drink and drugs. He woke up in an alley, covered in blood, and turned himself in, hoping the police would send him to jail. The police made him wait.

There was an annoying American wandering around. He asked Alfred what he did, and Alfred spilled his guts about everything. Bruce is listening, but trying to seem like he’s not. When the police come back over, Thomas concocts a story to save Alfred – telling the police that Alfred saved him from being mugged. After the police left, Alfred told Thomas that’s not what happened – but Thomas told him it is now.

Alfred tells Bruce that friendship saved him. He knows what it's like to hope for punishment – he wants to help Bruce. Bruce grimaces and says he hears him, but doesn’t want to talk about it.

He suddenly gets up and unconvincingly searches for the rocks. He says he must have left them in the car, and runs off. Alfred spots that the rocks are actually in the bag, and hears Bruce drive off.

At the Orphanage, the benefit has started. Sofia tells Oswald and Martin they both look handsome.

Oswald tells her he knows how important the evening is, and that he wouldn't have forgiven himself if missed Martin’s performance. Sofia asks Oswald if he found the mayor. Oswald says he didn’t. Sofia claims she’s happy he could make it to dinner, and goes off to check on the chef, sending Martin off to the other children. Oswald turns, and reminds Martin to watch Sofia.

Jim sneaks into the orphanage basement by the back door.

We see Martin standing in a hallway, writing in his pad. We get some menacing music as Sofia approaches Martin from behind, and asks him what he’s writing. In terms of the question of Sofia’s affection for Martin, I think it’s notable that her approach here is reminiscent of Pyg sneaking up on Harper, and then again on him sneaking up on Jim in the next scene.

Jim is lurking round. A surprised waiter encounters him. Jim hushes him, questions him about the chef, and tells him to bring Sofia to him. As the waiter turns, Jim asks him what’s in his jacket. The waiter turns and swings for Jim. Jim lands a punch, but is then knocked out by Pyg, who appeared from nowhere.

He comments that Jim really is an impressive policeman. The waiter tells him that he thinks Jim came alone. We see Jim dumped in a random room in the orphanage, with a bound and gagged Harper.

Elsewhere in the orphanage, Sofia is making a speech about how an orphanage was a long-cherished dream. What, Falcone couldn’t afford this before or something? Or did he draw the line at putting a gangster’s name on an orphanage? Whatever.

She asks them to go next door and take their seats for the performance. Oswald approaches and asks where Martin is – he wanted to wish him luck. Sofia smiles slightly, but ignores this – and comments that maybe things happen for a reason. Licensing crime was a bold move, but could have destroyed Oswald. Whoever appointed Jim might have saved him.

Oswald is incredulous – by destroying everything he ever created? He looks hard at Sofia. He tells her to confess that she did it, and face the consequences.

They’re interrupted by Pyg – who says something wanky and punny about dinner or performances or something. I honestly tune him out.

Jim is trying to untie Harper, and has apparently stopped the bleeding. She tells him they forgot to search her (that was very convenient). Jim finds a knife strapped to her ankle and begins to work on the door.

They sit down to dinner downstairs. Oswald angrily asks Sofia if this is another of her plans, to which she retorts no.

Pyg gives an intensely annoying performance.

Sofia calls enough – and asks where the children are. Pyg stabs her in the hand. Oswald stands, enraged – but Pyg warns him not to pull it out, the next is in her eye.

He tells Sofia that the children are in the kitchen: he’s not an animal

(You are, mate - you slaughtered and butchered those homeless people)

He rambles on a bit more to make sure everyone gets his hypocritical moral lesson. Oswald twigs first that the pies are people and refuses to eat. Pyg then reveals that he has Martin.

(I’d point out here that the last person to see Martin before Pyg showed up with him in tow was Sofia)

Sofia and Oswald stand, both seemingly enraged. He tells them to eat or he’ll kill the boy. One of the other guests refuses, saying that he’s just some urchin, so why bother. An livid Oswald turns as he says this and – taking the knife from Sofia’s hand – stabs him in the head.

Pyg claims Oswald is the main reason he’s here, the worst glutton. Again – really? Worse than any of the other powerful people in town? He reiterates that Martin will die if he doesn’t eat. Oswald tears up, looks down at the pie, and starts cramming it in his mouth, retching as he does. Turning, he screams at the rest of them to eat – or he’ll hunt them down and kill them all.

Jim gets the door off its hinges.

Pyg keeps talking. He reminds Sofia she has to eat – why, if she’s so desperate to save Martin, has she waited? She tells him she will as long as he doesn’t hurt Martin. It feels very stagey. She struggles to pick up her fork, and asks Oswald – in a little-girl voice – if he can help her. Now it definitely feels staged.

He picks up the fork, and cuts a piece for her. She’s just about to take a bite when Jim runs in, firing his gun, and chaos ensues.

Oswald flings himself in front of Jim, begging him to stop, because he’ll kill the kid. Jim tells Oswald to get off him, and shoves him away. Oswald ushers Martin from the room – not Sofia, who instead runs towards Jim. Jim tells her to get out – and a fight ensues on the table between him and Pyg

Much flightiness goes on. At one point, Pyg tells Jim

Don't give up - you'll ruin everything

(Which – again – maybe points to Jim just playing a role in someone else’s plan.)

Just as Pyg has Jim pinned, Jim spots the knife Oswald used to stab that guy in the head and – pulling it out – stabs Pyg. See – Jim and Oswald connected even when the plot is throwing angst and contrived conflict at them: Oswald just saved Jim’s life. Gobblepot confirmed.

Sofia’s hand is being stitched up by a police officer. As they leave, Oswald enters and asks how her hand is. She says it’s fine, and asks after Martin. Oswald replies that he’s stronger than he looks.

Drawing closer to her, he tells her she paid off mayor to make Jim Captain

And you want me to believe this was out of friendship – to save me.

Sofia says she tried to talk him out of the Pax – but there was no other way. Oswald says it’s equally possible she is his enemy, intent on destruction. She comments that he could choose to see it that way – but the choice is his.

Oswald says that whatever the reasoning – she went behind his back, and he’d be justified in killing her, but what she was going to do for Martin - that was real.

(Yeah - but very conveniently timed - Oswald. And who says her pie had people in it?)

She nods and looks downwards. I don’t buy her sincerity here – her face is very similar to when Falcone told her she wasn’t ready for Gotham. Oswald steps closer, and tells her never to betray him again. He also says he will abandon the licensing scheme (what a damp fucking squib that was) but will not accept Jim as Captain. Sofia shrugs and tells him to pick someone else, Gordon means less than nothing to her. After Oswald has left, she smirks.

Outside, Jim puts Pyg in the back of the policecar. The press call for Captain Gordon. Walking over, he reports back to them, and says GCPD kept its promise. They thank him, and he nods uncomfortably. Sofia watches smiling from a window, Jim looks up at her, somewhat uncertainly.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce is having a party. There’s some back and forth, but Alfred kicks them out. He tells Bruce to face up to who he really is. Bruce is apparently cut up that he avenged his parents – but nothing changed – so why did he do it?

Alfred tries to convince him to talk more, to help him understand – but Bruce glowers and tells Alfred to behave like his butler, not his father. He runs off to join his friends and leaves Alfred behind

Holding a glass of whiskey, Sofia faces the fire, waiting on a predictable Jim, who walks into the room. She smiles at him, calling him the hero of the day. Jim looks po-faced, and says he was just doing his job. She smiles again.

I know you hate me, but you deserve the job

Jim says he went to Falcone and knew what he was getting into, but it doesn't mean he has to like it. Sofia says that he accepts it, though. It’s not clear to me here whether she means the job, or the reality of what he has done. I’d argue that Jim doesn’t accept it, actually – his affronted superiority as soon as he was given the captaincy was a joke.

Jim stubbornly says he deserves the job like Gotham deserves law and order. Sofia frowns and asks if Jim thinks she doesn’t want that too. She tells him that she’s not his enemy – and never will be. Touching his face, she kisses him. Jim kisses back, but seems to have a realisation. He steps back, mistrust on his face.

(An aside – Jim, I know Sofia’s just about wearing her breasts as earmuffs this evening, and you’re easily distracted, but really? After all the cruel things she said about Harvey? Your best friend? Who’s put himself in danger’s way for you so often? Risked his career for you? Made an enemy of every other person in the precinct for you? Engineered your jailbreak? Really really? You still accept a kiss? It’s unclear where that situation went – he seemed to be stepping back, but – if not – he’s putrid right now.)

Oswald waits outside in car. Martin gets in, and Oswald asks if he found anything out. Martin looks conflicted, but writes in his pad and shows it to Oswald

I saw Sofia kissing the policeman

Oswald reads this and – wide-eyed – looks back at Martin for confirmation, who nods.

Oswald is tearful. He smiles and tells Martin that he is a good friend, and Martin smiles back. Turning to the window, his face is twitching with rage and pain.

As for Sofia - she will answer for what she has done. I swear it.

He stares out the car window, on the point of tears.

General Observations

That isn’t what happened, though, is it?

It is now

There’s a bit of a running theme this week on what you choose to believe. Thomas gives Alfred a new story. In choosing to accept it, he began a new life. Jim refuses to fully accept that he got the captaincy by dishonest means, stubbornly reiterating that he deserves it anyway. Sofia gives Oswald a choice – what does he want to believe: is she a friend, or enemy?

There’s variation, though, on how healthy that is. Thomas’ lie offered Alfred a way to a better life, and a way to get out of the mess he was in. Jim’s lie makes him a hypocrite. He’s uncomfortable in his own skin, under the bluster, and he’s lost his only friend. Believing Sofia’s lie could prove deadly to Oswald.

All that aside – to be honest, I just find this whole Sofia/Oswald storyline frustrating. Oswald has swithered between mistrust, threats, and tearful vulnerability – but now we’ve definitely landed on friendship? When did that happen?

And even if you leave to one side the fact that his brain must be operating at about 75% efficiency to have decided that the daughter of Don Falcone has shown up in town and magically become his bestie – you still have the Ivy mess. If Oswald was so vulnerable and needy for affection and connection, then the way that whole relationship played out just made no sense whatsoever. He doesn’t squander friendship. He’s more likely to smother it by holding on too tightly – but he doesn’t throw it away.

And, for reasons discussed earlier, I just don’t buy that he’s emotionally attached to Sofia. He’s tearful in this episode, but I think it’s as much anger and humiliation as anything. I just don’t see a bond there: there’s never been enough trust. I likewise don’t really believe that he’d dither for this long – it’s too dangerous.

Likewise, I’m feeling almost done with Jim/Sofia. Jim’s wallowing in a big mucky pool of hypocrisy right now, and it’s very much time for him to be taken down a peg or two. Sofia’s feelings towards him are a little grey. If it turns out she’s now nursing genuine feelings for him, then I’ll be pretty bored. Just let her be unapologetically malign.

All in time – it’s time to rip off the bandaid, I feel.

Thoughts?

#gotham commentary #let them eat pie #gotham s4e09

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lexiseigneur · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter twenty-eight: Blind justice

Quinlan was reinvigorated when the familiar smells of the Greystone grounds reached them. The ratios of the different tree species, the individual animals and their unique scents, all together their perfume reminded him of Lexi’s smiles and of tender moments.

“I’m glad to be back,” she said when he drove off the asphalt road to join the cover of the trees.

It did not take long for the media to explode with educated guesses and speculations regarding the two Dhampir. Lexi would watch the evening news, standing by the couch and scowling anxiously the entire time. Questions were asked and people discussed their possible answers endlessly. What were their true intentions? Why had they not stopped the Master centuries ago? Those who knew the couple personally were sought out feverishly and harassed for interviews. Ambushed outside the Sun Hunter headquarters, Gus tried to avoid a journalist throwing questions haphazardly his way. The journalist, a young man in a frayed suit, trotted behind Gus and the image bobbed up and down from the steps of the cameraman.

“How did you come to trust non-human creatures like this?” asked the journalist while speaking in a microphone which he then thrust toward Gus.

“’Cause they didn’t ask no stupid questions like you, puto.”

“How did you turn your back on them without fearing a stinger bite?”

The wings of Gus’ nose flared.

“Bitch, they saved my life so many times I only have a good night sleep when they’re around.”

Gus strutted away because his exasperation was turning into rage.

“Do you believe they should be allowed to live around humans?”

Gus flipped around, his expression murderous. He got so close the journalist tucked his head between his shoulders to avoid their brows touching.

“They saved your life too, shitstain. When people talk about my family like this I feel like going medieval on their asses. Now fuck off.”

Quinlan stared at the screen even after Lexi turned it off. He was not shocked by Gus’ uncouth behavior; he was rather used to it. Family. Of all words, this was the one that struck him.

“I wonder when that happened. This really, really sucks,” said Lexi with a sigh.

Quinlan was already picking up the phone and Gus answered after a few rings.

“Sup?”

“We were watching the news and…”

Gus whispered a string of swear words.

“You saw it, huh?”

“I’m afraid we did.”

“Well, fuck.”

Quinlan hesitated before saying the very thing he had called to tell him.

“Thank you, Gus.”

“Don’t get all lovey dovey, it creeps me out,” replied Gus with his usual joviality.

“I assure you that I won’t.”

“Good! And don’t watch the news too much. They’re a bunch of dicks.”

Lexi stretched a hand to claim the phone. Her worry was gone and she stood very close to Quinlan as she spoke to Gus.

“We just wanted to see just how screwed we are.”

They exchanged a few more pleasantries and jokes then she hung up.

“I love you so much right now,” she said and hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of his lungs.

“Why is that?”

Quinlan hugged her back, playing with the wild hairs tickling his throat. The swell of her affection ran warm throughout his body. Suddenly, they both purred.

“It just is.”

***

One evening as Quinlan picked up the blood rations and the newspaper, he noticed a written note across an article. It was Nigel’s messy handwriting. “What an arsepiece.”

The article was titled: “Dhampir, friend or foe?”

“An evolutionary link between Strigoi and Humans lies in a species only recently uncovered, the Dhampir. However the main commonality they share with their cousins is also the most important one: they are predators. Specifically, they prey on us…”

Quinlan skimmed the rest as he walked back to the house. It was the usual mix of prejudice and the pretense of objectivity. It made him snarl in revulsion. The last sentence caught his eye.

“Why should the lamb he happy that the lion chased away the wolf?”

Should they expect pitchforks and torches during their next visit to New York? Quinlan was tempted to tear away the article and spare Lexi that grief. But she would not like it. She wanted to see and hear everything and Quinlan could not help but think that this desire was not motivated solely by pragmatism. It felt like self-flagellation.

The air was frigid and the sounds of the forest were quieter than when they had first arrived. Through the large window doors, he spotted Lexi busying herself at the stove.

“What are you making?” he asked after entering the house and putting the cooler on the countertop.

He tossed the newspaper on the dining table, retaining no hope that she would remain ignorant of the hatred within its pages.

“I missed making pancakes. At least this time no one will complain that they supposedly taste weird.”

Her phone buzzed softly. She took a quick look at the screen, made a surprised “huh” sound then put it back.

“Laura says we should check out Costello speaking to the press. It will start in forty minutes. Let’s have breakfast before then.”

Quinlan took two large glasses from the pantry and filled them with blood. He slid the newspaper to the side of the table and sat down. When she joined him with a plate full of food, he was about to speak. Quinlan wanted to tell her about his travels to Asia…or perhaps those in Northern Africa. Something exotic and strange which would take her mind off of the present. But she was quicker.

“Quinlan…I had an idea,” she said and her smile was facetious.

“When you smile like this, mayhem usually follows.”

Several pieces of furniture had needed replacement the previous time. He did not mind. There were oak planks in the attic which he thought about using to reacquaint himself with carpentry.

“Not that…not now…maybe later.” – her smile widened – “have you ever wished you could enjoy human food?”

“No. I think the equivalent for you would be imagining drinking blood when you were human. Not particularly appetizing. Though, I can appreciate certain smells. The scent of your meal is not disagreeable for example.”

“Would you like to try?”

“It would make me sick, I believe.”

The thought of swallowing solid foods was revolting.

“Not my food…like this.”

She tapped her temple and he leaned back in his chair to consider it. What a strange proposal. But she seemed too enthusiastic for him to refuse.

“Show me.”

He almost startled when she did. The smell was strong, rich and sweet. Though he expected her to share the memories of the meal she had been consuming at this very moment, he had been mistaken. The little cube melted as soon as it touched her tongue and coated it in an oily and smooth substance. He recognized the perfume and closed his eyes to fully appreciate the brand new sensations of the savors that accompanied it.

“Chocolate?” he asked.

“Ha! I knew I could not surprise you!”

Quinlan reached across the table to kiss her brow and nuzzle her temple.

“If anything, your surprising me is what doesn’t surprise me.”

“Really?”

“Your very first action came so unexpected I thought I was delirious from starvation. I was sitting in the sun waiting for an army to rush me, and without warning Strigoi exploded left and right.”

She burst out laughing and they kissed, but with difficulty because their lips were stretched by amusement. Lexi pulled away from him and peered into his eyes with curiosity.

“Did you like it? The chocolate?”

“I did.”

An entire world of sensations that had just came to light. It was a wonderful present and he was thankful.

“We can finish our meal later,” he said and at the same time rattled lowly.

Quinlan walked around the table and pulled her to her feet.

“Not now? Why?”

He hugged her and bit gently into her neck.

“Mayhem.”

***

Costello’s press conference sent a very clear message. Though she understood the apprehension and fear, she insisted on two points. Firstly, the Dhampir were under control and not a threat. Secondly, the harassment by the press would cease. They could ask for interviews in written form and if the answer was no then it would be the end of it.

“Everyone and by that I mean everyone, has a right to privacy. Those who refuse to understand that fact can continue their stalking and other paparazzi-like behaviors outside of New York.”

She gathered her notes and ignored the shouts of furious journalists. Under flashes and accompanied by police, she left.

Quinlan was relieved that their Sun Hunters would not have to suffer the unpalatable strategies of the press any longer. Lexi agreed that this part was certainly good news but was bothered by one thing.

“Only dangerous things need to be kept under control.”

“We are dangerous, beloved. That’s undeniable.”

“Not to them. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

But that was usually the case until humans stood in his way in some fashion. And particularly when they pointed weapons at him. Or if they hurt Lexi, just like Hinata had done and to a lower extent, Arturo.

He switched off the television and enticed her to a walk in the forest. Their breaths condensed into clouds ahead of them and the air smelled a little metallic. Quinlan had decided against telling her about East Asia because it might remind her of Hinata.

“Have you ever been to the Dead Sea?”

“Haha! No! I think it might be simpler if I tell you where I have been. It would make a much shorter list.”

“Please do so. I’d like to hear it.”

Her fingers twined into his and they walked on.

***

Two days before the next hearing, Lexi and Quinlan were in New York for yet another training session. The extermination of the Strigoi plague could not bear a delay, even with the current events. Both Dhampir exited the unmarked police car and regarded the brand new coat of the paint on the Sun Hunter Headquarters with suspicion. Massive, industrial and a little shabby, the building had never required any change apart for purely practical considerations. Why should the Sun Hunters suddenly care about its outward appearance?

Quinlan approached the wall and touched it. It was still tacky. Lexi lifted her nose and sniffed the air.

“Some parts are more recent than others, they smell wet,” she said.

Once they were buzzed inside, Gus and Raul greeted them as usual.

“Hey, why did you paint the building? It’s weird,” asked Lexi.

Raul scratched his nose and looked away. Gus made the same face he used when telling trainees to pack their stuff and go home. He would not react that way unless it concerned the Dhampir directly.

“Some little assholes started writing stuff on the walls, it ain’t important.”

“It was important enough that you felt the need to hide them,” she said.

“From us,” she added for Quinlan’s benefit only.

“Please, do not feel obliged to spare us grief. We much rather be informed of such incidents as they come,” said Quinlan.

“Alright guys. Well, it was mostly random words like bloodsuckers, or collaborators. Once it was Quisling and I had to google that one. None of it made any sense,” said Gus.

“And some animal blood at some point. Splashed all over the sidewalk too. Nasty,” said Raul with a grimace of disgust.

The cousins avoided their gaze for a while.

“We should tell them,” said Raul.

“The other day we got a letter and it was for you guys but it gave me the hibbie jibbies so we checked it. There was powdered silver hidden inside. Just some people being assholes.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Lexi.

“Huh, you got it backward Lex,” said Gus and he laughed.

“Lexi, they are ashamed. I suspect this might be the main reason they chose not to disclose those incidents.”

Lexi appeared even more dejected. It distressed Quinlan that she should make herself responsible for every evil remotely connected to her. He did not consider it healthy.

“Ha! I hate it when you make that face! Come here,” said Gus and he grabbed Lexi by the shoulders pulled her along as they advanced toward the back of the room. A group of trainees waited for the next lesson. She slid an arm around Gus’ waist and inquired about Aanya and Angela. Quinlan and Raul followed them.

“I ain’t hugging you so don’t get your hopes up,” said Raul.

“I am overwhelmed by disappointment,” said Quinlan with a deadpan delivery.

***

The defense had a new strategy and it was quite simple. Two facts contradicted their strategy, that the Master was locked in a coffin when Zach pushed the trigger and that he had shot Quinlan when the Master was without shell. The veracity of those points relied on the Dhampir’s testimonies alone. And if their word could not be trusted for one reason or another, then it remained plausible that the Master had indeed controlled the accused.

“Is your stinger identical to a Strigoi’s?” asked Finnigan, a defense lawyer.

Quinlan was not surprised she would ask him this. For humans, this was by far the most displeasing part of his anatomy.

“It is somewhat shorter,” said Quinlan.

“Can you show it to the court?”

His lips remained firmly sealed and he looked at the lawyer, imagining what her reaction would be if he were stupid enough to carry out her request.

“Your Honor! Their stingers were clearly visible in video evidence and this is a blatant attempt at feeding the prejudice against our witness,” said Uru as she sprung from her chair.

“I agree. Counsel Finnigan, this is not a circus. We do not demand of anyone that they expose themselves without a very good reason,” said Judge Smith.

“I retract my question. Have you ever killed human beings?”

“I have.”

“Have you ever killed human beings with your stinger?”

“I have.”

The judge peered around the room, waiting for an upheaval which did not come. The media had discussed that point so often that no one was surprised to hear it confirmed.

“Did you use that stinger against Zach Goodweather?”

“I did, before he could shoot me once more.”

“Where did you supposedly get shot?”

“In this shoulder.”

“Your shoulder looks fine to me,” said the lawyer dismissively.

“So does your client. One could say we are even.”

“I meant that only two people witnessed my client supposedly shooting you. You and your companion. Do you have a scar?”

“I do not scar from normal bullets.”

“But I can see clearly from here that you can have scars. It is awfully convenient that you should have no mark at all from what my client supposedly did to you while we can clearly see traces of other injuries from that very same day.”

“There is nothing convenient about it. We do not scar from normal weaponry or injuries, only from silver and for a reason unknown to me, from the Master’s direct attacks.”

“Is there any person who can corroborate this, beside your companion?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. Mister Elizalde has witnessed Lexi healing from a deep wound in her forearm. The knife which caused it was steel and by now, there is no trace of it. Perhaps he should take my place at the stand.”

Gus very briefly confirmed that he saw Lexi cutting her arm open and soon after she was also asked to speak.

“If the judge will allow it, could the witness uncover her arms?” asked the defense lawyer.

“I’ll allow it.”

Lexi unbuttoned her cuffs and folder her sleeves up. Her alabaster skin was smooth on both her arms.

“Can you scar at all? Contrary to Mister Quinlan, you bear no apparent sequels from that day or at all.”

“Are you proposing that only Quinlan is unlucky enough to get marks but not me? That’s far-fetched, even for you.”

Quinlan repressed a growl and the growing animosity he felt toward that lawyer. Alvi gestured discretely in his direction, made big eyes at him and shook his head. The prosecutor had been quite clear that Quinlan should strive not to stare at people when he felt irritated. So he detached his gaze from the Esquire Finnigan and focused on Lexi alone.

“Well, you are not identical and we know little of your species. You can eat solid foods, he cannot and you have hair and he doesn’t…this could extend further than what you have disclosed so far.”

Judge Smith cleared his throat and with more hesitation than he had never shown before he said,

“Madam Lexi, please do answer the inquiry.”

“I can scar and I have scars.”

“Could you show us?” asked Finnigan.

Quinlan could tell Lexi did not want to. Her jaw had tightened and he could hear her small heart accelerating. A gentle rattle escaped him and Alvi turned in his direction and gave him a reproachful glance.

“Your Honor, we’ve been through this. We ask that our learned friend cease such demands,” said Uru once more.

“Overruled. I tend to agree with the defense on this one. We only know of the Dhampir what they chose to tell us so far.”

Now her heart was aflutter, impossibly loud to his ears. She looked at Quinlan, worried. It was so very petty and easily disprovable. Quinlan suspected that if Lexi had not reacted so defensively, the lawyer would not have pushed the question further. Finnigan seemed to smell discomfort like a shark sensed blood.

“Don’t. To Hell with them,” said Quinlan.

“It’s stupid, really…I hate it when you see them. It’s a reminder of everything I did wrong that day. And they are also hideous.”

It had been so long and she still dressed quickly or turned away from him so that he would not have a clear look of her scars. It pained him more as time passed. Sometimes, during brief moments he instantly regretted, he also resented her for it. How could she think him so shallow?

“Those are the medals of your victory over the Master. They are not beautiful but since they are yours, I love them all the same.”

She shook her head and smiled but it did not reach her eyes.

“You say the darnest things sometimes.”

She stood, pulled her shirt out of her pants and raised its hem just enough to reveal the five scars marring her midsection. They were larger than the size of the fingers which had inflicted them because Quinlan had burned the skin over and around the original wounds. They looked a little sunken, as though her flesh had melted shut over empty holes.

Most Sun Hunters averted their gazes, either in surprise or because they knew Lexi enough to recognize her uneasiness. The defense lawyer did not appear particularly disappointed and as soon as Lexi sat back down, she switched her line of questioning.

“Could the Master see through the eyes of all Strigoi?”

“Yes, he could and he did,” said Lexi, her cheeks still whiter than usual but her voice steady.

“What would that look like to a person facing one such Strigoi?”

“They would see the Strigoi’s eyes turn red, like a glow from inside.”

“Why did your pupils glow in much the same way just before you killed the Master?”

“Ha. People won’t like this at all,” she told Quinlan.

“Yes, that is the point. It changes nothing.”

“Because Quinlan and I can see through each other’s eyes as well.”

“Can you control humans?”

Lexi laughed and shook her head.

“Of course not! And we cannot control Strigoi and certainly not each other. Look at this mess of a world. If we possessed such incredible abilities, why would we let it devolve into chaos which only makes our lives more difficult?”

“Could the Master control you?”

“If he could, he would not be dead.”

She made a show of switching on the screen and fast forwarding through the video depicting their fight against the Master.

“Why did you hesitate here? You could probably have ended it and avoided a painful injury.”

“He showed me images of someone I loved that he had turned. It took me by surprise.”

“Interesting. Did you not know he could do that before that very moment?”

“No,” said Lexi between clenched teeth.

“So he had abilities you knew nothing about?”

“It appears so.”

“How could he do that if he could not control Strigoi at that moment? Because of the jamming devices.”

“We do not operate at the same…frequency…as them.”

“That’s also convenient. Is it possible that the Master had other such powers you did not know about?”

“Possibly, yes.”

“Could it be that just like the jamming devices did not affect his ability to reach you, that other hindrances to his ability to control his Strigoi did not apply to all his powers?”

“Objection! Leading question!” said Takaha.

“Overruled. Please, answer the question,” said Judge Smith.

“It could be, yes.”

“Very well. No more questions your Honor.”

Takaha took over and Quinlan was thankful for it. When he stood and spoke, Lexi’s quick heartbeat slowed.

“I would like to question Lexi here as an expert witness since she took over Dutch Velder and Dr. Goodweathers’ work in building those jamming devices.”

The judges agreed.

“How does a jamming device function, in laymen’s terms please?”

“It floods a specific frequency which the Strigoi used to communicate. It would be like a dog whistle, so loud, dogs cannot hear themselves bark anymore.”

“And you function on a different frequency level?”

“Yes.”

“If the ability to control humans truly existed, it would function on another frequency yet?”

“Possibly.”

“Much like a radio?”

“Much like it, yes.”

“What happens if you put a radio in a thick lead lined container?”

“It goes silent,” said Lexi with a grin.

“Would it block all such signals?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Could the Master have forced Zach Goodweather to trigger the nuclear bomb from inside the coffin?”

“No.”

“Could the Master communicate with you in any way while formless?”

“We could feel his pain but he made no attempt at stopping us with images as he had before.”

“In your expert opinion, why?”

“Because without a brain he could not control anything. He was crippled. The worm was like a seed and it needed a body to reach its full potential.”

“Thank you. I do not have more questions.”

Lexi returned to sit next to Quinlan and took his hand. The prosecution announced that they were done and the defense also confirmed that they had finished with their line of questioning. The judges put an end to the hearing.

***

The news had been taken over by the expectancy of the verdict. A date was set and on numerous television channels, a countdown showed the time to that last hearing to the minute. This time, when they talked about the Dhampir, it was mostly in the context of reiterating the evidence and testimonies again. There were still occasional debates regarding their trustworthiness. The Dhampir had killed the Master and had founded the Sun Hunters but they were not humans. So far the division had been clear. Though humans could be corrupted to work for the Strigoi, the opposite had never been true. What was Strigoi was the enemy and since the Fall it had been a truth for all. A division, neat and reassuring. But now that the existence of Dhampir belied that clarity, the dissonance was too much for many. Troubled minds did not deal well with blurry lines.

There were still protests in front of the courthouse as the countdown progressed. It was impossible to appreciate the architecture of the large-face granite building because of the large crowds. They were noisy and chanting vulgar slogans while brandishing cardboard cards on which they had written their anger.

“They are more bloodthirsty than we will ever be…” said Quinlan as they watched the news reports.

“It’s not directed at us this time but...Let’s just say I really hope they’ll be found guilty.”

Quinlan had little doubt on the outcome. So when the time came he was calm and shared that state of mind with Lexi as much as he could. The courthouse filled and Laura arrived last, though Lexi had kept her a spot. She had been running. Quinlan greeted her then listened to their conversation.

“Since school is out I could not find a babysitter,” Laura whispered then took long breaths to calm herself.

“Everything is ok though?” asked Lexi.

“Yeah, Maria stayed outside with her. She said she can’t be bothered to listen to more of this shit.”

“Maria, huh? You guys have been hanging out quite a lot lately.”

Lexi had a crooked smile and Laura blushed but did not seem too bothered.

“We could extend the invitation to include Dr. Miller, if you wish. Greystone is large enough to accommodate everyone for any length of time,” said Quinlan.

“Well…if instead of driving directly out of the city we could do a little detour then she could pick up her things. That is if she even wants to, of course,” said Laura.

Both Laura and Emma would leave the city with the Dhampir and spend a few days in Greystone. The weather had lost some of its cold bite and their grounds had been free of any Strigoi activity for months. Quinlan had crafted a new chess board himself and planned on surprising the little girl with it. Lexi leaned toward Laura and whispered as if conspiring,

“Of course.”

They all fell silent when the judges entered the room. It was followed by closing statements by Alvi then by Finnigan. When Judge Smith stood to announce his verdict, Lexi was incredibly tense next to him. But he knew it would be short lived suspense.

One by one, he named the accused and their crimes and the corresponding verdict. Thirty-four were found guilty of committing crimes against humanity. Judge Smith finished his statement on a dark note,

“Even if you were indeed controlled by the Master, you had at least one occasion lasting almost an entire day during which you could have made others aware of that fact. We have to conclude that your defense was purposefully misleading and untrue. Your actions which led so many to atrocious deaths were voluntary and will be punished accordingly.

“But we are not Strigoi. You will not die kicking and screaming. You will be put to sleep humanely by medical doctors and when completely unconscious, you will be bled until death. Your bodies and blood will be cremated and your ashes scattered into the ocean. If you have a god, may they have mercy on your souls.”

Quinlan looked a last time upon the face of Zach Goodweather who stared at his own feet. His rage was gone, replaced by the fear of a young boy. It was a sad spectacle.

The courtroom remained quiet for the most part. Some were grave, a few still staring angrily at the accused and many cried. The room quickly emptied into the hall and toward the front exit.

There were no sounds of protests outside. New Yorkers had been ordered to stay confined inside their homes for the last installment of the trial. Costello wanted to avoid riots in case the masses disliked the verdict. In one hour, the curfew would be lifted but that left plenty of time for the Dhampir and their friends to leave the city safely.

They walked out of the room amongst the last, giving time to the crowd to clear out first. The great hall was not yet empty. Teams of journalists recorded the people exiting while commenting on the events. Cameras and their crews stood neatly behind a corded area which Quinlan considered with satisfaction. In a corridor leading away from the wide doors of the courtroom, Maria waited with Emma. As soon as the little girl spotted Lexi and Quinlan, she called on them. Quinlan’s traits softened when Emma escaped Maria’s grasp and ran in their direction.

Someone shouted in the vast and majestic lobby of the courthouse.

“Bloodsuckers!”

All eyes were on the man. He was dressed like a bailiff and wore a hat which did not fit with the rest of his clothes. Quinlan did not recognize him. The man took an object out of his pocket and threw it at the feet of the Dhampir.

The grenade rolled noisily on the stone floor. It looked handmade.

Gus was already pulling Aanya and Laura back in the courtroom. Time slowed for the Dhampir and all the humans surrounding them stood almost still. They could run away before the thing had a chance to explode. But it struck Quinlan that this was not even an option. Emma was still running at him. He jumped toward the little girl who could die if shrapnel hit her at this distance. He crouched over her little body and glanced above his shoulder. Lexi grabbed the explosive device with both hands and pulled it apart.

There was no explosion. The fuse burned in her right hand without touching the explosive material enclosed in Lexi’s other fist. Quinlan’s relief was so short as to be almost non-existent

The sparks from the fuse highlighted a scintillating metal cloud from within. The silver sand contained in the device formed a fine mist which spread between Lexi’s arms, as though she was embracing it. She closed her eyes and turned away.

But it was too late. Her pain shot through the Bond. Lexi screeched and her unfettered agony tore roars from his chest. Emma cried and trembled against him. He let go of the girl and flew to Lexi because his mind was on fire. He had felt it when Hinata had driven a silver knife into her. It had been nothing compared to this.

And as he rushed, tripping over his own feet from the blinding loudness of her screams, he wished he could shut it all down. He wished he could will himself unconscious and not feel like this anymore. Then he saw her, almost convulsing on the stone tiles as she attempted to claw the silver off. And he disgusted himself for forgetting that this was her pain. She needed him.

Quinlan yanked a large water bottle from a nearby fountain and shoved it in Gus’ arms. With violence he wished he could avoid, Quinlan forced Lexi’s arms down and kneeled on them. The he pinched her nose close and forced her mouth shut. Gus poured the water over her face. But the pain was not going down.

“Make her open her eyes!” screamed Maria at Quinlan as she took a water bottle out of her purse.

He did, he held her drenched head down and forced her to open her eyelids. Her eyes bled and her feet smacked the marble, as if attempting to run away from this torture. Maria poured water over the burning sclera, irises and third eyelids.

Lexi’s body contracted and she lost consciousness. Quinlan felt guilty at how much relief this brought him. The water ran down her cheeks and temples, milky and shimmering with silver particles. The more water Maria poured, the clearer the liquid became.

Outside the room people screamed and ran but a line of Sun Hunters prevented the chaos from approaching them. In the distance, sirens.

When the ambulance came and they drove to the nearest emergency room at neck-breaking speed, Maria barked orders at the EMTs who were too scared of the two Dhampir to be of any use. Exasperated, she pushed them out of the way and injected Lexi with an anesthetic. Her gestures were blurry. Everything was blurry. He removed his gloves and wiped his face. When had he started tearing up? He had not noticed until now.

Lexi regained consciousness when they reached the hospital. Her thoughts were sluggish and dulled by the anesthetics but still she whimpered. Quinlan pulled her up against him, enclosing her small frame in his coat. Her words tasted like grief when she shared them.

“I can’t see you.”

Through the Bond he was a shapeless grey form. He wished he could reply that all would be well. That she would be fine. But through the Bond, he could not lie. So instead he stroked her damp hair and rocked softly until the double doors of the ambulance opened.

#mr.quinlan #mister quinlan #quinlan #quintus sertorius #the strain fx #the strain fanfiction #the strain fanfic #the strain

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qutemag · 8 years ago

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The movie guy reviews: Transformers -- The Last Knight

Article by Benjamin Harkin

Here we are. Every critic relishes this review, and many online have already let forth the torrent of bile that Transformers: The Last Knight deserves. Every Transformers movie I go in hoping I’ll be somewhat surprised that the movie reaches a baseline of ‘okay’, and bar maybe the third one which was brighter, more colourful and contained John Malkovich, every time I walk out frustrated and despairing. People say Michael Bay is an auteur – an auteur of what? Glorified tech demos? Showing off what the Industrial Light & Magic team can do? Because that’s all these movies have going for them. This is evident with the multiple aspect ratios, that’s right, IMDb records this movie showing three different aspect ratios, and another place thought the trailer had eight. You have black bars darting all around the image as the movie crops itself to fit around funky new cameras Michael Bay wants to toy with for the sponsorship. It is the weirdest, most distracting shit to see a movie switching aspect ratios all the way through for no discernible reason.

The film feels like six films meshed into one, or perhaps six plot threads focus-grouped into oblivion and smooshed together in a way that made some executive in a high-backed chair shift lazily in their seat to turn off the preview footage and say “fuck it, that’ll do” for the three editors to hastily clip together in something resembling a two and a half hour film. There’s the scene with a post-apocalyptic New York, ravaged after the climax of Transformers 4, with Transformers living in hiding of the anti-Transformers defense force set up to catch them, now that Optimus Prime is paralysed, orbiting the earth in a shell of his former self. Some foolhardy boys break into a ruined stadium with a giant jet engine ploughed into the field, saying self-aware bulldust like “we’re kids, we always get away with stuff!” Yes, that’s a fucking line in this movie. And not the worst by a mile. Then prowling the streets, looking under rubble, they run into a Transformer hiding itself under scrap. Couldn’t radar easily detect the hulking masses like Transformers for the military to destroy? Apparently fucking not, if a Transformer hides among some rubble, that’s a-okay. The kids then run into a girl, a strong-willed, adventurous-sounding 14-year-old who’s making her own way among the debris jungle and a close friend to this Transformer that gets mortally wounded by a fighter jet trying to save the kids. And do you think Bay uses this setup to anchor the film with a young heroine, make a movie that takes a U-turn on everything that the hypermasculine, Megan Fox-ass loving, dumb as a post joke-making crap that has defined his Transformers series? Fuck no, all the boys dialogue towards this girl is along the lines of “wow…she’s hot!” and “Are you single?” Fucking gross and sad is all I can say. Michael Bay can’t wait to get started on the explosions, objectification, and immaturity. The young girl doesn’t do anything of note in the movie, hell, I can’t even remember her name. She gets sidelined at the halfway point, literally left behind in a junkyard with her BB-8 rip-off robot. Michael Bay instead wheels out the contractually obliged Megan Fox stand-in to be the impetus for Mark Wahlberg to do something in the movie and crack a few lines about how single they both are. Wahlberg was probably given acting advice to approach the character by showing a face in deep thought over how utterly hot it would be if he and the Oxford tour-guide Megan Fox stand-in lady banged with the Transformers watching.

“Are you single?” proves to be a theme in this movie, more than any kind of motif or any of the half-mumbled prattling about values that Optimus Prime manages to heave out of this exhaustingly mind-numbing, overbloated movie. Characters are defined by whether they’re single or not, not whether they fight for honesty, or freedom, or love, or caring for friends, or whether they want to be friends with giant robots. Nah it’s the fact that Mark Wahlberg and Megan Fox stand-in in this movie are on steroids and the camera treats them like they’re perpetually posing for Tinder. Characters from earlier in the series, like John Turturro, make manically unintelligible appearances to rant about doomsday situations. A physics scientist gets laughed at when he tells the president the world will end in roughly three days. Optimus Prime manages to awake himself out of being basically a dead robot to shoot himself somehow across the galaxy onto his home planet of Cybertron, which he knows was destroyed but fuck it, why not go there for refuge? And why not fall back to earth if you’re a dead shell of a Transformer? Nah, the logic in this movie is adverse to science or plot logic, or continuity, or good filmmaking, his dead body can float across the galaxy instead! Cybertron is now run by some Sorceress Robot Woman who twists Optimus into getting Cybertron fixed as a planet by colliding it with earth to suck up the planet’s core. Fucking who knows. Cybertron somehow flies across the universe in the time it takes this movie to skim across five other unresolved plot threads, like why Mark Wahlberg has a spiderly amulet thing that’s super powerful and what he is actually supposed to do with it, or what the whole deal was with the three-headed dragon robot that appears at points throughout the film, or why Megatron wants to break out his mates Suicide Squad-style or why the humans are willing to work with Megatron who was the bane of everyone for the previous four movies, or why John Goodman’s cigar-chomping Transformer gets blown up by rockets and falls over, presumed dead as the camera cuts to a new scene, then he just randomly reappears later on, or why Bumblebee fought Nazis in WWII. And the location used for the scene of Nazis being blown to smithereens, full with Swastika banners draped over the looming building? That my friends is Winston Churchill’s house. I’m sure Britain’s favourite wartime leader, known for everything Hitler was not, span so hard in his grave he tunnelled to the earth’s core.

Stanley Tucci plays a drunk Merlin in a flashback to the Dark Ages, for reasons never fully explored, despite being another character in the present for the previous movie. The Great Tucci Retcon. Oh and there’s Anthony Hopkins too. A wisened masterclass of an actor, made remarkably awkward and a total caricature for a man who used to be Hannibal Lector. He’s in this, 110% for the paycheck. Bay makes him say ‘duuuude’ and ‘that’s a bitch-ass car!’ because it’s cool to make grandpa say hip things sometimes. He has a robot butler assistant who’s also a borderline homicidal maniac for reasons that are never explained. He also has a WWI tank Transformer who has ‘robot-dementia’ or whatever which is an interesting concept far too intriguing for a movie this unforgiveably terrible so the Transformer is yet another sidelined idea in a litany of focus-grouped half-baked brain farts.

The entire movie is unfunny, every joke (and there are heaps, all undercutting the otherwise dead-serious grit and aimed at the lowest denominator possible while conscious) hits like a fucking sledgehammer wielded by lemurs on crack, rushed in delivery, painfully without any semblance of cleverness or wit, the setup too predictable and the payoff so fucking moronic, with editing so poor in timing that a joke about the butler robot playing the sweeping Transformer themes on an organ to give the scene a gravitas was completely lost when Anthony Hopkins cranked his sad, demur grimace up to the butler so slow you could’ve gone to the bathroom and back and the joke would still be playing out. I’ve said it once after Pain & Gain and I’ll say it again: Michael Bay cannot direct comedy and he shouldn’t. For whatever reason the gift of a funny bone doesn’t materialise in the filmmaking process.

The fight scenes are meh. Every one lacks any weight because frankly you don’t give a fuck about any of this while watching. You don’t care which Transformer fights which because they’re all so underutilised and shallow that you could probably get more pizzazz in banging your stapler against the computer mouse on a slow day at the office. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how half these scenes of metal clunking against metal were storyboarded. And they don’t mean anything either, Transformers are rarely shown actually being killed, and yet the ones shown dying without any fights or lead-up (because the editing is god-awful and rushed) are full on bleeding weird green blood which is probably too violent for a young kid, which is where this gritty, dark-looking, yet oddly cartoonish spaghetti-works is squarely aimed.

I should probably end this review somewhere. This sounds like a good place. I could go on and honestly, part of me felt the usual catharsis of a critic tearing a big-budget Hollywood mess to shreds, and giving the finger to this kind of spiteful, audience-hating focus-grouped piss that flows through the summer action blockbuster gate from time to time, but another part of me doesn’t feel that catharsis. Instead, a part of me feels a silent rage, because I know this review, or any other review, or any of all the people who happen to see these movies for what I could only describe as sheer self-flagellation and tell everyone else it is complete garbage, it won’t stop Michael Bay making Transformers, and it sure as hell won’t stop the franchise. Somehow this is what gets bankrolled over those millions of other screenplays of what could be great action blockbusters. Michael Bay has said he’s stepping down from the Transformers franchise, but that’s what he always says. Paramount have two more Transformers movies lined up for the next two years, they see this as being able to grow out into yet another expanded universe franchise with Bumblebee getting a spin-off movie. I know this is useless, this review. It’s just words screamed into a void, a void of producers and executives running endless focus groups, workshopping the movies through too many editors and writers and camera lenses for maximum 3D so everyone can spend the biggest amount of dollars possible. Because this is the thing: Michael Bay doesn’t care. Mark Wahlberg doesn’t care. Anthony Hopkins doesn’t care. Maybe the digital effects people care. All the people involved in this production, they watch the finished product and I’m sure that no matter where they thought their part was going, they were a little deflated and depressed by it too, especially the fifth time around, but they can forget about their shame at the end of the day. Because they’re all getting their paycheck and a contract for Transformers 6, and you’re doing yourself out of the $20+ you spent to see this rotten film.

(Transformers: The Last Knight is currently showing.)

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prime-one-blog · 8 years ago

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5 Takeaways From “Shether”

The Queen Of Rap-a.k.a.,Remy Ma-has made headlines for dropping a diss track on Nicki Minaj.”THE BRUTAL BLUDGEONING OF BARBIE” is what they should read.”Shether” is a near seven-minute long song and Remy gets downright disrespectful over the same beat Nas used to eviscerate then-rival Jay-Z fifteen years ago on what was perhaps the most savage diss track of all time,”Ether.” I just listened to "Shether” and I must say that it was like watching Worldstar videos where people are getting punched out.On one hand,you almost cringe at how vicious the punches are and how hurt the victim is going to be when they come to.On the other,it’s kind of enjoyable to watch because some of those punches are thrown on people who had it coming.

For a while,I dug Nicki.Her feature on Kanye West’s “Monster” was one of the most impressive verses I had heard in a while.Then Pink Friday was released and I felt that it was peppered with good songs.I believed that Nicki,had she kept pace,could be in a league with legendary female MCs like Lauryn Hill.But then she went into pop tart mode and came out with repugnant,don’t-belong-on-Billboard songs like “Anaconda.” It had me almost singing ‘Dear Old Nicki” because I missed the chick who was spitting bars while alternating between British accents,cartoonish voice treatments,and the occasional gruff tones.Since,Nicki’s sold out and she’s been unapologetically fake.Hearing Remy flagellate her mercilessly on a song elicited some schadenfreude inside of me.These are my five takeaways from listening to “Shether:” They’re not in any particular order.

5.Nicki has to step it up now

When you think about it,Nicki’s been the diva’s champ for a while because she hasn’t had a challenger in her division.Remy Ma’s release from prison meant that Nicki was in danger of losing her belt.Sure,Nicki had her beef with Lil’ Kim but Kim was nowhere near her “It’s All About The Benjamins” or collaborating with Fiddy form.(No disrespect to Lil’ Kim.She could rhyme and she’s quite attractive.Just haven’t heard much from her in recent years.) Remy Ma is to hip-hop what Chyna was to WWE:A bad bitch able to clobber her female competition and probably able to give a male rapper a good from-behind uppercut to the family jewels if she wanted.That said,not only does Nicki need to drop the pop nonsense and get back to what she was doing (assuming that Remy’s allegations that Nicki’s had ghostwriters aren’t true) for a chance to win the belt back but she can’t counter Remy’s shot in similar fashion to her ex Meek Mill after Drake dropped “Charged Up” and “Back 2 Back” on him.Retorting via a social networking platform isn’t going to cut it.Rap,especially these days,is like one big chess match and rappers almost always have reasons for why they make moves.Nicki made the first move by firing subliminals at Remy on a couple of her recent features,which perhaps was Nicki knowing she now had competition in her division and letting Remy know that she planned on defending her title.Remy responded by powerbombing her through a flaming table and getting the three-count.Nicki has to hit the studio with something in return for Remy as well as to start coming strong with the bars again.

4.Remy Ma is officially back and her comeback was made with a stroke of genius

I just spoke about rap being like a big chess match.For Remy,she had to make some really good moves.Being incarcerated for a few years took her out of the game and allowed someone like Nicki Minaj to fill the vacuum.Knowing personally what it’s like to be under conditions where you can’t put music out for a lengthy period (as I am working on a mixtape that will come out over seven years following my last record),this can put your whole career in jeopardy.With the human attention span now being something in need of a Ritalin shot,a prolonged absence means the possibility that people forget about you and move on to the next big thing,and the one after that,and the one after the one after that,and....my what a fluffy Pomeranian that someone outside is walking.Cute little thing.

If one is going to make a comeback to the rap game after what is by today’s standards an eternity,an almost spectacular re-entrance is necessary.Remy and Fat Joe recently released a collaboration album,which was probably done to give both of their careers a boost.But “Shether” was the clincher.Considering that,despite my displeasure with Nicki Minaj turning into a plastic and unlistenable pop star,Nicki’s got a big name.As such,that’s a huge mark for Remy to take out.By going at her the way that she did,Remy became a trending topic.That may very well mean a new audience for her.By Remy using the concept and the beat of “Ether,” she had to bring it on a level that Nas (one of the hip-hop GOATs) did.She delivered something that was on par with Nas,maybe even better.That’s going to get her nothing but respect from the hip-hop heads.This segue ways to the next takeaway.

3.Remy kept it hip-hop

It’s no secret that rap-at least in the mainstream-looks dramatically different than it did both in its nascent form and in its golden adolescence.The unwritten rules of hip-hop stopped being enforced,the competitive aspect of it ceased to exist,and lyricism was replaced with dumbed-down bars and unintelligible mumbling.Furthermore,if there was beef,shots were almost entirely fired subliminally.Remy wasn’t about to adopt the new-school method of dealing with an adversary.The world was going to know who she was putting on a meat hook.Not only did she name-drop Nicki,she even went on a series of clever Nicky/Nick name plays at one point.I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that Remy name-checked a bunch of others whom Nicky has had associations with,from Drake and Lil’ Wayne to Gucci Mane and Meek Mill.Remy’s shout out to the man who was instrumental in her rise to fame-the late,great Big Pun-was a nice finishing touch to all the names that came out of her mouth during her blistering assault.While “Shether” was aimed specifically at Nicki,it feels to me like another case this year of a veteran rapper,or more appropriately an MC,making a statement that hip-hop is not only alive and well but at war with what’s presently mainstream.First case was Royce Da 5′9″ last month dropping some unbelievable freestyles over trap beats and clowning the likes of Migos and French Montana. Remy came in and scored another win for hip-hop and I for one can’t be grateful enough.

2.Jay-Z should feel a bit better about himself now

Not that ‘Hov is someone who experiences issues with self-esteem but he did take one of the worst beatdowns in the history of hip-hop beef.I’m sure that the sting of Nas’ hard blows have mostly subsided but he has to feel somewhat good that there exists “Shether.” I’m sure that Jay was feeling Nicki’s pain if he heard that song but now the “Ether” beat has a second victim to it.It’s no longer solely associated as the track that nearly put Jay in a metaphorical coffin.If anything,Jay should be thinking or saying “Chea! I got it bad on that beat but Nicki got it real bad.YEP!” It might be savage when a rapper says you have dick sucking lips that have Notorious B.I.G.’s lines coming from them,that you’re a “tae bo ho,” or that you’ve named your record company after a man who died from AIDS.By virtue of Jay not having a surgically enhanced posterior or a brother on his way to prison for raping a minor,he got off relatively easy compared to the flogging that Nicki received from Remy.

1.”Shether” will go down as one of the best rap songs of 2017

The year may be only entering its third month and other albums and songs are going to drop.However,I just don’t see this song with it being the most scathing diss track that’s come out in some time (perhaps since “Ether”) not being spoken about at the year’s end when all the year-in-review stuff comes out.If it isn’t,something is wrong.

#shether #remy ma #nicki minaj #nas #ether #drake #lil wayne #lil kim #jayz #gucci mane #meek mill #rap beef #hiphop #2017

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philly-osopher · 9 years ago

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Macaroniverse headcanons, Angelica edition

So after I posted the last installment of the Macaroniverse, @herowndeliverance asked if there would ever be an Angelica/ Maria Cosway side-story, and that’s where these headcanons were born from :)

Available here on Ao3, if you’d prefer that format. Warnings for sexual content.

Part I

Look, normally it’s not Angelica’s style to publicly eviscerate the arguments of people who disagree with her in class. At least, it hasn’t been since sophomore year, when a professor actually took her aside and said, look, you’re brilliant, everybody knows you’re brilliant, but just… please let the other students breathe. So she had, and she’d kept the peace for a long time. But there Angelica was, a senior in this upper div policy course, and a younger girl, one she had tutored last year, no less, sort of stumbled over her point, and this obnoxious know-it-all boy had pointed out her error and gone on this long speech about all the reasons why this was the better idea and Angelica. Flayed. Him. Alive.

So when he cornered her in the dining hall the next day, she wasn’t expecting him to be actually pretty charming. And sheepish, once she’d pointed out to him that he’d been an obnoxious dick. Certainly she wasn’t expecting him to beg for more correction. He'd reread the text and refined his point. Still wrong, but wrong in an actually interesting way. They'd stayed and argued until the cafeteria closed and then returned to her dorm room and ended the encounter with his face between her thighs.

Aaaaand he was a freshman. Whoops.

Still, he was an adult, and he was not only talented but willing to take instruction, and as far as the sex went he seemed to prefer taking care of himself, which… maybe had some hangups, maybe he was some rare subcategory of ace, who knew. Angelica wasn’t about to look a gift fuck in the mouth, so to speak. Except Herc started giving her dirty looks everywhere and Herc got along with everyone and Angelica wasn't really used to the idea of making a faux pas without knowing it, so she'd gotten all worked up about it and asked him, except he'd said he couldn't tell her and she should ask Alex and... and well...

Yeah, she really, really should have asked earlier, because at that point Alex accused her of pitying him (true), of not even being attracted to him (false!), of using him (... true, she supposes, although she hadn’t really known it, had she? Hadn’t he had some responsibility to communicate?). And then when she'd tried to work it out he'd picked up his wounded pride and stormed out.

She'd written him a letter. A careful but heartfelt apology, after half a bottle of wine, with Eliza consulting by phone from an ocean away, that had boiled down to, I want to make this work. Eliza kept Angelica from veering off into either wallowing self-flagellation (her first instinct) or point-by-point rehashing and complete denial of responsibility (her second).

He answered her long letter with his own long letter, and she’d cried reading it, how hurt this boy was, not so much by her as by the world, and they’d gotten back together and didn’t really talk about it all that much again. And they'd never were exclusive with one another, but were so mutually obsessed that the question didn't arise. Like, usually Angelica is so intense she has to spread it across multiple people, but not with Alex. She loved showing off all her ideas to him, arguing and blowing off steam until early in the morning, taking it straight into the bedroom. It was glorious, for a couple months.

She knows deep down that what they’ve got going—good friends, nice benefits—isn’t going to be enough for him. She finds herself rereading his letter, feeling his loneliness and all his sharp edges, feeling a deep compulsion to make it better, to make him a Project. She could do that, maybe, could refine his heart the same way she’s refining his mind with every argument he comes this much closer to winning. But that’s not her strong suit—that’s Eliza’s, maybe, but now that Angelica’s had Alex, that would just feel… weird. She’s not really the type to share, and nor is Eliza, for that matter.

Still, she might be able to grow her relationship with Alex, if she just puts in enough time, and effort, and worry, except—except she's going to law school in New York next year, damnit, she's going to need every advantage, and Alex is taking so much of her time and her worry already, this boy has already become a Project for her and that's not fair, it's not her job to be his fucking… refiner and it's not his fault he needs refining but she can't afford to be slowed down. She’s already a black woman in America, does she really want to stack the deck against herself further? Why can’t she just get back together with Church and have a slick, safe boyfriend who will look great on Christmas cards?

And maybe she's worried deep down, too, that if she spends all her time polishing this boy up one day he might outshine her. Alex is that brilliant. That's a mark of respect, she tells herself, that she's started to see him as a rival and not an interesting intellectual toy. That's a mark of the work that she's already put in, all those nights of long debates and subtle corrections and just-right follow-ups. This, she tells herself, as she breaks up with him, two months before the end of her senior year, is the mark of a job well-done.

She was ready for him to be sad, but she wasn’t ready for the heartbreak that flooded into his eyes the minute she told him. He has to turn away for a moment. She doesn’t follow him, doesn’t put a hand on his shoulder. Pretends she has no idea what’s happening. It’s better that way—she doesn’t want to hurt his pride, when she’s already hurt so much else.

“I thought—I mean, I knew… law school, but I thought we had… I thought we had another couple months, I didn’t—”

“I need to get used to being by myself,” Angelica says, simply. “Stand on my own. Independence is really important.” Those reasons, at least, he’ll understand. All the others she’ll keep for herself.

“Yeah,” Alex rasps. Angelica wants to take his hand, turn him around, give him a hug, but their relationship was never all that huggy, anyway, and anyway, he's not her project anymore. It's a relief, to absolve herself of responsibility for Alex's emotions. She walks away, texting Herc as she goes. Hey, if you don’t see Alex at dinner tonight you should grab him something, okay? Herc will figure out what happened from that alone.

After they break up Alex seems to bounce back pretty fast. The first time they do lunch it’s weird, the careful deference they have for each other, never letting fingers touch, like even that would send them flying back over the edge. But gradually they learn to be comfortable in each others’ company again. After she moves to New York they Skype every so often. Angelica still really enjoys talking to him. That spark is still there, ready to be fanned into a flame. But she leaves confident that he'll return to her circle soon enough, refined by life and his own hard work. The question is whether she's willing to wait that long—or whether she'll find someone else in the interim.

Part II

Angelica's law firm had been getting their portraits done by Rick Cosway ever since his dad died a few years back and he inherited the business. She'd just made partner—youngest ever by about ten years, first woman, first person of color, no big deal—and she was so, so ready to have that portrait looming imposingly over everyone walking in the door. Yeah, that's Angelica Schuyler. No, she's not here to take your lunch order, she's a motherfucking partner, now show some goddamn respect.

Rick Cosway's studio is unexpectedly hip, in this strange shared makerspace warehouse in Brooklyn. His stodgy traditional half-done portraits look really out of place compared to... well... everything else in there. Angelica steps over a lot of extension cords in her Louboutins to get to the chair for her sitting.

Halfway through her sitting the guy gets up to take a fucking phone call. Well, that's unacceptable. Angelica had just wanted to send him a photograph anyway, but he'd insisted on her coming down to sit for the portrait and all the old white dudes at the firm had said it was a rite of passage and she'd wanted the full partner experience but whatever, this is bullshit. She gets up.

Literally as she's in the middle of walking imperiously out in her heels she sees something that makes her gasp. Makes her come to a full stop like she’s run into a fucking wall, and just stare. It's a painting, probably twelve feet high, of a woman, and she's smirking straight down at Angelica, arms crossed over her chest. She looks like a sailor, covered in old tattoos—but her body is also painted in the tattoo style, and the tattoos continue straight off her body, and as Angelica looks it's almost like she's reading a story of all the shit this Nasty Woman has overcome to get where she is and Angelica's just fucking. Blown away. This titanic figure is on her level, this is someone who gets her—

At the foot of the painting is a Latina woman very much covered in tattoos and Angelica realizes this is a self-portrait and feels like she's been struck by a fucking lightning bolt.

Just then Rick Cosway comes trotting up with an apologetic smile. "Sorry," he says, "important client. You know how it is." The woman with the tats is listening, Angelica can tell.

"First, I am an important client. Second, I don't need your services anymore," she says coldly. "I'm commissioning her."

Something in the unhurried way the woman turns around spooks Angelica. "... if she'll have me," she finishes, suddenly self-conscious. What if she's too corporate, too alpha-bitch, too uncool for this clearly very cool very creative very strong-willed woman?

"I dunno, Ricky, should I let her buy me a drink? Treat me real nice?" the woman asks.

Later—at the bar, in fact—Angelica learns that the two of them are married for tax and immigration purposes. She also learns that Maria works half as a painter, mostly portraits, and half as a tattoo artist, and has been profiled on 60 Minutes and gotten a goddamn genius grant and a shitton of awards.

Maria's not at all modest about any of these things, which is a relief because that way Angelica doesn't have to figure out a way to be subtle about working the fact that she was the first black female president of the Harvard Law Review into the conversation.

And when Maria raises an eyebrow and asks "wasn't that Obama's job once? Are you planning on following in his footsteps?" Angelica doesn't do her usual cute laugh and change the subject routine. She doesn't turn down any of the intensity in her voice when she says, "Absolutely."

#my fic #Angelica Schuyler #Angelica Schuyler Church #Hamilton modern AU #Maria Cosway #Angelica Schuyler/ Maria Cosway #Macaroniverse #Hamilton Broadway

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racingtoaredlight · 5 years ago

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2020 College Football Season TV Watch’em Ups: Week 2: The worst is yet to come

I was bullied into writing this post and I will let the teachers know about how I have been coerced and cajoled at knifepoint.

So here we are. It isn’t opening week but it sort of is. COVID-19 has put quite the damper on my enthusiasm for this sport of overlords and lawyers to a point where I’m not sure my heart will even be in it to write these stupid posts. RTARLsman posts are suspended until I actually feel some sort of excitement about this season.

NOTE: I’m writing this before Miami kicks off on Thursday night. Maybe I’ll get caught up in that exercise in self-flagellation and the words will flow like wine. Or The U will get curbstomped by FAU and I can just throw this whole series in the wastebin of history.

Schedules are once more ripped from FBSchedules and odds are from Vegas Insider. Neither of those little bitches have ever sponsored us for anything. I’m bad at a lot of things.

Saturday, September 12

Matchup Time (ET) TV/Mobile

Syracuse at 18 North Carolina 12:00pm ACCN

UNC is ranked based on the end of last season and the realization that still has some fire in him. I’m still hesitant to believe in it even as the line has crept up from 19.5 to 23. But, then again, they’re playing Syracuse. Maybe go ahead and pound the over for the hell of it.

Arkansas State at Kansas State 12:00pm FOX

The worst thing that has happened to me this year was discovering there are people who actually plan days around Kansas State football.

Eastern Kentucky at West Virginia 12:00pm FS1

The winning team should get some of that sweet bailout cash the senate earmarked for coal mining firms before the dastardly Dems ruined it all by pointing out not a single cent would go to materially improving the lives of any working American.

Louisiana at 23 Iowa State 12:00pm ESPN

Iowa State entering a season ranked seems like dangerous ground. They’re #23 and still only got -11.5 against a directional school. Maybe you should allocate some loose change to the Warhawks cause this week. I mean, obviously, support them at your local establishment of ill repute through the act of gambling. That’s the best kind of support.

Charlotte at Appalachian State 12:00pm ESPN2

It seems strange to me that there are so many unranked vs. unranked games this week when a large portion of 1-A teams aren’t even planning to take the field at this point.

ULM at Army 1:30pm CBSSN

Navy pretty much wasn’t allowed to practice before they got murdered by BYU on Monday but it says here that Army is a 21-point favorite so I guess they were under different protocols.

Duke at 10 Notre Dame 2:30pm NBC

With Notre Dame effectively a conference team this year, I’m even more conflicted about this devilry than I would normally be. Root root root for the chaos, I suppose. Barf.

Campbell at Georgia Southern 3:30pm ESPNU

Sure, of course. Campbell at Georgia Southern. The world needs this.

UTSA at Texas State 3:30pm ESPN2

Having trouble believing this game would have been played in a non-pandemic atmosphere and here we are supposed to believe it’s actually kicking off now, this week? Unreal.

Georgia Tech at Florida State 3:30pm ABC

The Watch Grid had this as the best game of the week and it felt like a punch in the gut on every level.

Austin Peay at Pitt 4:00pm ACCN

Pitt might win.

Missouri State at 5 Oklahoma 7:00pm PPV

I’m hyped to put down $50 to watch this classic.

The Citadel at USF 7:00pm ESPNU

Does GG still comment here ever? The reason I’m asking is because I basically don’t.

1 Clemson at Wake Forest 7:30pm ABC

Trevor Lawrence may not want to be an activist but it would be to his eternal credit around the world if he would just take up arms and walk off the field before or during this game.

Tulane at South Alabama 7:30pm ESPN2

Over the course of my life I have been acquainted with many people that attended one or the other of these schools.

WKU at Louisville 8:00pm ACCN

Western Kentucky travels to their hated rivals in Northern Kentucky and I’m assuming all in the audience will be heavily recruited by the Boogaloo Boys. I can’t remember why Loooooouhvuhlle is a bounceback target for this season but if I were a gambling man I would put down exactly $2 on them to cover -6.5.

Houston Baptist at Texas Tech 8:00pm ESPN+

I don’t know a lot about Houston Baptist but it is definitely just a giant megachurch with classes all happening in the same great chamber where the pastor goes on and on about what a bunch of bullshit COVID is and he’s projected onto several comically gigantic television screens hung in the rafters.

UTEP at 14 Texas 8:00pm LHN

Texas is favored by 43, which is a lot. My vague feeling is that Texas being ranked 14 is the real crime here. Fuck it, take UTEP +43.

Coastal Carolina at Kansas 10:00pm FS1

Lol at the Jayhawks kicking off their home opener at 9pm local time. I feel like that was Les Miles’ idea to make KU into the Midwestern version of LSU. As with all of this week’s slate, who gives a shit what happens here.

Marshall at East Carolina Postponed

Louisiana Tech at Baylor Postponed

FIU at 21 UCF Postponed

These are the games of the week.

#closing bell #friday drugs #on this day #rtarl watches tv #watch em ups #college football #football #gambling #covid #sports

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taco-bellphegor · 6 years ago

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Albums of the Decade

I'll apologize in advance for how rough my writing is. Unfortunately this didn't leave draft form and I had a few situations come up that forced me to put writing on the back burner. I wanted to post what I had done because it would have been a waste to keep it offline.

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Looking back, the 10s were rather personally tumultuous. I went through a major mental growth spurt right at the beginning, and started the process of leaving multiple abusive interpersonal relationships that I had kept for all the wrong reasons (predominantly self-flagellation and the personal insistence that I didn't deserve better). I gained the strength to leave them all behind, and in doing so I ended up growing so much as a person. I went from living in the shadows of others who insisted that I wasn't worth much and didn't contribute anything to being my own person. I learned that my thoughts and feelings truly did matter and that success was a measurement best left to myself and not to those who were setting unrealistic expectations. I started on my personal journey to un-learn traits that abusers forced upon me and started to truly come into my own. I would love to say that my beautiful partner was my starting catalyst, but that isn't 100% true. The spark of desire to change and improve came from within myself, and my partner came at the peak moment in my journey and became not only my best friend and soulmate, but a true support that has helped me stay the course of my developing personhood. That little growth spark was there throughout my entire life, even though I didn't have the "kick" to go about acting on those thoughts and feelings. I started off similarly to a plant that outgrew their pot and was looking for a larger space to grow in and I found a person who was willing to transplant me so that I could continue growing. She helped me to release my inhibitions and become truly free. I'm sure this was a monumental task for her to undertake, but the fact that she did is something I'm eternally grateful and thankful for.

One of the easiest ways for me to fully delve into my escapism was to indulge fully in hobbies that allowed for escapism: the arts. I found myself watching movies and fully immersing myself into someone else's life and problems, just so I could experience having problems that were solvable for a change, unlike several situations in my life. When I had the chance, I loved to become one with the characters in books, putting myself into their shoes and experiencing that happily ever after for myself. Video games were the pinacle of these two art forms for me, as they had a level of physical immersion that enveloped a few more senses, causing my escapism to revel. Music, however, was different for me. Music has held this specific sway over me that I have a difficult time even describing. It was a medium where I could allow myself to feel without the fear of others judging me and telling me that what I felt was wrong or weird. Music had a way of coursing itself through my body in a way of freeing me from what was causing me to be tied down. I had even found ways to incorporate music into my own occult-like practices, pinning it into my meditation and lucid dreaming rituals. It became integral to my escapism, as the sound scapes caused vivid visualization. Music was how I bonded strongly with my soulmate. Despite how trite this may sound, music literally became my escape.

I want to take some time to share the art that ultimately came around and helped shaped myself during a time of extreme growth and introspection. The music that was a soundtrack to my becoming who I am today. The games that served as a pleasant intermission to the horrific drama that was my life. The movies that I watched to indulge in fantasies to dark or grandiose for reality. Though I am only going to do a more in depth written look at my music for the decade, I hope that in sharing this with you all, you can understand me just a bit more as a person. That maybe the things that helped to shape me as a person will perhaps have an impact on you as well.

Albums of the Decade

1. Mastodon - The Hunter (2011)

This is the ultimate soundtrack for my decade. This whole sound and mood was me from 2011 onwards. This was the sound of my packing and leaving a state I lived in at the tag end of a prior decade and moving to one I'd end up having my family in. The sound of my leaving abusers and moving forward. The sound of putting on my well worn jeans, flannels, comfy shoes and beanie and heading off to work. My go to for road trips with a very close friend as we took every scenic route imaginable. My workout tunes for when I was pushing myself physically to sweat out my misery. Yes, it is a sound that is ultimately a tribute to all of the music I listened to during my years in high school, yet it's remixed. New. It is the sound of my shedding all of my adolescent awkwardness and finally coming into my own. It helped me to look back and see where I came from, then look forward and see where I was going. It came out during a time when I needed songs for hitting the old dusty trail. I didn't expect it to grow on me as much as it has, but dammit it's just me through and through.

2. Lingua Ignota - All Bitches Die (2017)

Lingua Ignota was a surprise hit for me. I generally can't listen to a huge amount of noise music as the higher registers of sounds that artists love to use causes severe pain and discomfort to me. Yes, I understand conceptually that is the point, however it's so bad that it's unenjoyable. Despite this, Lingua Ignota fully captures a very specific feeling for a time in my life when I couldn't escape from my abusers. For when I was constantly kept down by them, and whenever I did find a way out, they found new and improved ways to keep me trapped. It encapsulates the anger and pain and hatred and disgust I felt when my family forced me into homelessness. The anger of being abused, the pain from having to take it because there was nothing I could do, the disgust of knowing that this cycle was going to keep perpetuating itself because there were people in my life who insisted on having the upper hand and the hatred of not knowing what to do next. If I could have taken this album and took it to the me that was homeless, throwing up constantly because I had no clue what tomorrow was going to drop on me, going through withdrawals, I would have handed myself this. It was the catharsis I desperately craved when everything around me was spiraling out of control. Though this wasn't a thing when I needed it, I'm glad it exists and I can feel comfort from it because there's another person out there that felt the way I did.

3. Korn - The Serenity of Suffering (2016)

It was a shock to find a Korn album well outside of high school that resonated so strongly with me, but here I am and here it is. Even in high school, Korn didn't necessarily ring true with me on a lyrical level. Mostly a sound aesthetic level. This album does both. I have always found a love/hate relationship with my depression. There were times when my own personal misery would drive harmful people away, proving it as being an effective shield. I enjoyed my solitude when I wasn't forced to be around people who didn't understand me, nor tried to. Whenever I had breaks from my depressive state, I felt awkward. Like happiness wasn't meant for me, and it fit like a shrunken shirt. It was a temporary thing, and I knew it. That my happiness was always on the cusp of being taken, and unfortunately the majority of the time it was. To this day, I still have fears of my partner getting so tired of my shit that she just packs up and leaves. That my son will grow to resent me because I'm terrible. Frankly, I don't think it'd come as a shock. This album felt like it was finding comfort and solace in your deepest moments of despair. That my depression was always going to lurk just around the corner, and that was just fine. It was oddly comforting knowing that someone out there was doing their best to turn their misery into a motivation. For now, this remains my "sad album".

4. Author and Punisher - Ursus Americanus (2012)

This album is important because it served as a bonding experience. It is the sound of all of the loneliness I went through. The few times when I was miserable when I was alone because I had to listen to my thoughts. The machines in this album are the sonic equivalent to the times after I had bottled my emotions up so much that I had to let it out and explode. That numbness that would follow my emotional explosion is this sound. The echoing dullness and loneliness as I had to sit and be an emotional void, starting to fill my bottle back up again until the next time I melted down and exploded and had to start the never ending cycle all over again. My partner sent this album to me as a recommendation, and it came at a time when I needed to hear it. My bottle was overflowing and I was being kept down by people who would blame me whenever anything went wrong, when my ex would have gaming sessions with all of my friends and invite me just to talk to me like I was beneath him. When family members were insisting that they knew best for me and that I was just inevitably going to end up back on the street again. My friends were all associating with my abusers, bringing them into my private spaces and allowing them to force me to say I was the one in the wrong, that I was deserving of their treatment, that I had to "apologize or else" and I was trapped in my bedroom until I apologized for a wrong doing that I had nothing to do with. I had to break the bottle before it shattered and hurt me. The sound of that void of emotions and energy is still relevant at times even now, despite my wanting to not admit it. Much like my escapism, my emotional bottle is a part of me that will never go away.

5. Holly Herndon - Proto

I have a lot of issues with dysmorphia and dysphoria, as well as extreme amounts of self-loathing. I really truly don't like myself. There are times where I wish I was just a free-floating consciousness that interacted with people, but for the most part just observed everyone else as they went about their daily lives. I can't stand seeing myself in a mirror, but honestly have no way to truly fix this. When I found my wife, I found the one person who didn't really see me as a physical body. She saw my soul. It was the first time I ever found someone who didn't pay attention to my looks. She never made disparaging remarks on my physical body, or demanded I look one way or another. She saw me as me. She truly saw me as that free-floating consciousness, and that moved me quite deeply. She has been working with me on seeing myself as she sees me. It's a difficult journey as my brain just can't comprehend anyone seeing me as anything other than what my inner voice says. When she says I'm beautiful, I believe her. I know that was she says is true because I feel it down in the depth of my core. Though the days are unfortunately few and far between when my brain images matches what my eyes see and it aligns with when my wife says I'm beautiful, I have these fleeting moments of feeling and seeing that outer beauty. This album is that ethereal and fleeting feeling of being beautiful. Even if it was there only momentarily, it was just within my grasp long enough to provide a respite from the continuous onslaught of negativity and horrific characature of my body and face that my brain loves to manifest. It's beautiful and slightly cold and distant. The solemn sound of feminity. The mechanical feeling of going through the motions of hearing "you look great" and then when the music swells, you actually FEEL that "looking great." I truly hope that this beautiful ethereal electronic music is going to become the sound of the oasis of hope in our dystopian future.

6. Queens of the Stone Age - ...Like Clockwork

I have an extremely complicated relationship with my mother. She's close to me, yet I keep her at arm's length. She's supportive of me, yet I'm always afraid to let her know what's going on in my life for fear that I'll have repurcussions of her reactions at any given moment. Her hospitalizations affected me in so many ways, both directly and indirectly. Though there are so many admirable traits that my mom possesses, I also had fears of becoming like her. This album feels like that complication. It is full of moments of "yeah, I understand how my mom feels" with lyrics and musical motifs that ring through with her lowest of lows. There are times when it feels and sounds like the house parties she both threw and attended with low lifes, and I was stuck listening to everything through a locked door. There's the grimey vibe of "I just left the bar after spending the last of rent money paying off my tab so I can keep coming back, fuck the landlord!". There's also this sound that even though this all keeps happening, it will eventually have to come to an end because everything does. It's the soundtrack of all of the times when I made life choices eerily close to the ones my mother made and I was made to stand back and watch it all play out, counting all the ways that I was on the course of my own self destruction while the echoes of her own path resounded over mine.

7. Lorn - Ask the Dust

I promise I'm not entirely miserable and forcefully introspective. I have other moods besides being a miserable bastard, I swear! I will go ahead and just give a quick nerd alert here. I had read someone describe this album as a lost Silent Hill OST and they couldn't have been more accurate. It deserves to be the soundtrack of the nightmare rendition of the mall that Heather is traipsing through. It's the album Pyramid Head blasts on his airpods while he's rip roaring and sword dragging throughout the abandoned foggy town. It's a great chill album that has atmospheric creepiness to it that I can't get enough of. It's catchy, dark and moody and I wish there was more of this style out there to listen to. If this album had existed back when I was a freshman in college, it would have been the one I put on during night time drives that ended up with my friend and I getting an Icee before we headed back to our dorms. As it stands, it serves as a great reminder of the memories I have of late nights with friends.

8. Diablo Swing Orchestra - Pandora's Pinata

I didn't necessarily enjoy high school, but I did enjoy hanging out with friends and theater. Yes, I was a theater nerd (and still technically am). Though I wasn't one of the kids who was screaming things up and down the hallways, I was mostly the silent and depressed background tech, the make up artist that made sure to correct any accidental smudging during costume changes, the props master that did their best to make sure scenes flowed with minimal hitches, the lighting and sound tech that made sure no one was blinded by stage lights and there were no screeches or muffled voices, and the set designer that worked to design scenery that was incredibly minimal and light yet provided enough imagery for the minds of audience members to fill in the gaps. I didn't mind that I was never a main character and was a supporting role. It was easier for me to watch the more popular kids fulfill those roles and for me to immerse myself into the more technical side. That isn't to say I didn't enjoy acting. I loved being able to shed my own life and take on someone else's for a while. I desperately wanted problems that were as easily solvable as the ones that came from a screenwriter's mind. That said, Pandora's Pinata is the sound of garish and grandiose stage performance. There's a wide range of emotion from the frantically high highs and the deep lowest of lows. It encapsulates my experience as a theater nerd, and the intensity of the passion I have for both theater and music. Though I'm not active in theater now, and I generally don't talk about my love of theater because of the stereotypes associated with it, I'm glad to have an album that helps me with my theatrical feels.

9. The Ocean - Pelagial (instrumental)

I had spent a great deal of my life in land locked areas. I didn't really get to go on those much lauded "family summer vacations" where you would travel to a new and exciting place to escape the boredom and rut of your home life. I didn't get to see the ocean or go to a beach until the tag end of the 00's decade, but I did get to experience Venice Beach for myself in this decade (a trip to LA sounds amazing right about now). I spent a lot of time escaping a lot of my troubles by taking regular trips to Earthquake Park (a beach park in Alaska). I loved walking up and down the coast, finding the objects that washed up from the namesake earthquake (one time the frame of an old VW Beetle was on the shore) and interesting rocks and shells. Mostly, I just loved to sit out there, burying my toes in the black sand and watching the sun set while listening to the waves. It was one of the few precious moments when I could recharge, even though I inevitably had people with me on these trips. I felt alone and at peace while watching the sky grow darker. This album perfectly captures the ocean and all of its depths. I didn't think I'd ever encounter something that made me feel my ocean escapes until I heard this. It has it's moments of harsh loudness, but then it comes back down and goes into deep melodic throes of the cold pressure of the ocean. Whenever I used this album to meditate, I couldn't help but see the various ways of how the sea is absolutely stunning. The earlier tracks are the tide pools and sun light bouncing off of the water. It's such a light start and just gets deeper and heavier as it goes. Though I personally found the vocalist version of this album as distracting, the instrumental speaks volumes without needing words.

10. mus.hiba - White Girl

I started off my decade in Alaska. It was an opportunity to start my life over again, as well as to find myself as an adult. I started off with a lot of the same world views that I had in high school, a lot of which was unnecessarily toxic. After many years of reflection and healing, I was able to shed my worse thoughts and fears and habits and become the person I am today. That whole journey started in Alaska, and it's a place that though I have several bad memories of, I have several good ones that I can't ignore. My love of nature really grew here. I finally lived somewhere that seasons actually brought drastic change! The springtime with "breakup" (when the snow melted and the ground thawed), construction, and days where it's cool yet tolerable. The short lived though highly appreciated summer, with it's long days, mild heat, long walks in the neighboorhood after work, kayaking on small lakes, and the desperate attempts to avoid the extremely large mosquitos that could practically whisk you away to bug bite paradise. The falls where the leaves are all different colors, and seeing those colors paint the mountainsides was breathtaking, where hiking trails took on a new challenge as you had to avoid wildlife that was passing through on its own terms, the slight chill in the air that meant you only needed maybe one or two extra layers that didn't hamper your mobility. And the winters. Winters that were filled with long dark spans of time, where sleeping, eating and pub crawls brought immeasurable amounts of comfort and comraderie, where you learned the sound of heavy snow and could see all of the stars in the sky so clearly. This album has the feeling of those winter nights. The feeling of coming in from the bitter cold to warm yourself by the fire. The chilly walks in snow and ice to get from the bus stop to work. The sound of people navigating a harsh and beautiful environment yet finding many ways of experiencing joy and sharing it with others. Though this wasn't released while I was still in Alaska, I still love this because it feels so much like there. The dreamy nostalgia of times that I enjoyed and am glad that I experienced, yet knowing that they had their place and that reliving them would be a pointless endeavor that would bring little new enrichment in my life as I know it now.

These are the top albums of my decade. Though my writing is a bit rough and scattershot, I wanted to present how these albums felt to me, since the feelings they provided were most certainly important to me. They are the sound equivalent of my thoughts and feeilngs and experiences, and my hope is that if you do decide to check into these albums, you'll maybe think of me and share a little of what I feel as well.

Honorable Mentions

These are albums that also resonated highly with me throughout the decade. Though I won't provide an in-depth review of them, I hope that you will also consider checking these out as well. They're all amazing albums in their own right, and I would feel bad for not including them as highly reccomended albums.

Sigh - Insomniphobia: This is another album that appeals to the theater kid in me. It's technically brilliant, has so much melodramatic flair and some of the best compositions that it's hard for me to not feel it as a love letter to musical theater.

Ghost - Meliora : If I had to reccommend only one album that shows the pinnacle of this group, this is the ultimate Ghost album. It's highly indicative of their sound, is lyrically fascinating, and makes hailing Satan pretty awesome. This felt like to me like the sound of sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle with the devil as your sidekick.

Priest - New Flesh : This is cyber noir and I love it. Moody androids singing throaty ballads over catchy darkwave made me wish I was walking in the rain, smoking a cigarette while on my way to use my cybercredits to buy groceries at a corner store for the week.

Father John Misty - I Love You, Honeybear: I love this album as it is the lead singer laid bare. He knows he's a walking, talking human trash fire, but he doesn't shy away from it. He says that he's insufferable and terrible, and honestly aren't we all? It gave me the feeling that everyone is terrible in one way or another and that it's okay to indulge in your awfulness every once in a while.

Tobacco - Ultima II Massage: This was extremely 90s for me. It feels like the times when I had recorded my favorite top pop hits from the radio, rushing to hit the "stop" button to avoid recording radio adverts, and my listening to the recordings, erasing the recordings for the next flavor of the week, and eventually having a tape so warped it was barely functional. This was those summers of laying in a hammock, lazily listening to music while struggling to find something to do yet being too apathetic to do anything about the boredom.

Video Game OSTs

I started off my college career as a Game Design major. Though I abandoned my major because of a drastic lack of support (financial and emotional) and because my classmates were so unbearably toxic that I couldn't stand to subject myself to them even in my moments of extreme depression, I still find enjoyment in playing games. I played them a lot as a child to get away from my parents and their poor life decisions that would lead to a lot of pain for them and myself. I played them when I just needed that intermission from life so that I could feel something other than overwhelmed for a brief time. I played them with friends after school, all of us cramming together around a small TV screen to demolish each other in whatever competitive multiplayer we could find. Though I don't consume games at nearly the same rate as I used to, I do still get a lot of enjoyment from them when I do. It's grown into a fond way for me to share a hobby with my son, as we both play together on Minecraft and talk about what we're thinking about or feeling or just using it as a backdrop for us to talk about how life is making us feel and making big plans together. Here are some video games and their OSTs that struck a chord with me.

Video Game OSTs of the Decade

1. Toby Fox - Undertale OST

2. Widdly 2 Diddly - LISA OST

3. Keiichi Okabe & Keigo Hoashi - NieR: Automata OST

4. DJ Cutman - WiiU Grooves

5. Theophany - Time's End: Majora's Mask Remixed

Video Game OST Honorable Mentions

1. Jim Guthrie - Sword and Sworcery OST

2. Daron Korb - Bastion OST

3. Shoji Meguro - Persona 5 OST

And finally, here are some albums that even though they didn't cause me some drastic feels, I enjoyed them and listened to them so often that it would be a shame to not include them somewhere. Feel free to check into these albums when you get a chance! Who knows? Maybe these will find a way into your playlist that gets shuffled and you'll have some new tunes to move and groove to.

Yeasayer - Odd Blood (2010)

Shooter Jennings and Hierophant - Black Ribbons (2010)

Flying Lotus - Cosmogramma (2010)

Death Grips - Exmilitary (2011) & The Money Store (2012)

Mustard Pimp - No Title or Purpose (2011)

Diplo - Express Yourself (2012)

Santigold - Master of My Make-Believe (2012)

Slime Girls - Vacation Wasteland (2012)

Deftones - Koi no Yokan (2012)

Lady Gaga - ARTPOP (2013)

Major Lazer - Free The Universe (2013)

Run the Jewels - Run the Jewels 2 (2014)

FKA Twigs - M3ll155x (2015)

SOPHIE - Product (2015)

Charli XCX - Vroom Vroom (2016)

Ghost - Prequelle (2018)

Devin Townsend - Empath (2019)

BABYMETAL - Metal Galaxy (2019)

Rammstein - Rammstein (2019)

Priest - Obey (2019)

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Thank you very much for reading through my writing. I appreciate it a great deal.

#albums of the decade #aotd

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