#simon will always be the one singled out and capable of saving them all

[bookishjules]

anyway while we're not talking about thule and its apparent non-existent role in twp.. i do think i would love nothing more than for thule!simon to pop out of the woodwork and kill janus right at the last second, saving the day in our world as he couldn't in thule. an extra request would be that simon would die killing him. his final act, fulfilling his promise, enacting revenge, and once again sacrificing himself for the sake of the people he loves.

[strawberryforks]

waves of three // simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

part 1/?

warnings: swearing, injuries, vomit, death-mentions

a/n: i haven’t played much COD 😬😬 so this won’t have many canon events, etc. kinda obsessed with this little plot and the characters brewing in my mind but so open to feedback & suggestions. recs open btw! <3

Tradgedy, trouble, whatever it was you wanted to call unfortunate happenings, they came in waves. Good things were temporary and so, you clung to them, nails scratching, clawing, teeth sunk in. Happiness was fucking fleeting but you had found it, god, you found it—found him, and for once you didn’t have to hold on as tightly because he was there, holding you too, from the very beginning.

Your lieutenant always watched your six, saved your life a few times to which the thank you’s were brushed off “would’a done it for any of the guys,” gets grunted in your general direction, “No one left behind,” you hear that once or twice, too. Then, the one time you save his ass it’s a problem. You’ve been a part of the 141 for a year now, so he knows you’re capable—it isn’t that, he’s worried about. You’re taking fire, hiding behind a brick wall with about as much (structural) integrity as the scummy family that built you. Your lieutenant, he’s bleeding pretty badly. You’re half-knelt on top of his muscular thigh, and no, it’s not the best time to be appreciating that but you’re only (barely) human and you’re having to pop up from behind the “wall” to fire at hostiles—a high stakes game of jack in the box to which you won’t be the winner. “Go,” he growls, and you give him a glare that could freeze hell, “I’m not leaving you,” and you’re stubborn, stubborn and disobeying orders because they’re stupid. You radio soap, tell him your position, ask him to send some fucking help and he is, he is, but it’s five minutes out. Do you have five minutes? No, but, you’ve always been good at making time. A quick tourniquet and he grunts, “Reaper, get the fuck out of here. Tha’s an order,” you reach for his gun, he lets you take it. “Negative sir,” you tell him, then, and all those protests? You ignore them. You tell him the gunfire has your ears ringing, “Can’t hear ya, LT,” and you tell him to stay the fuck awake, too, because he doesn’t get to be the one who leaves. Not when you’re staying right here, right with him. Soap brings backup and you both make it out of there—your lieutenant doesn’t speak to you for a week, not after he chewed you out initially, but… no matter where you were after that, he was there too, not far off and always ready to repay the favour should the need arise.

He rests his arm around his shoulder, your reassurances are subtle then, when you let him. You fall asleep on him once and, and he’s fucking honoured that you trust him enough to be vulnerable around him. When you’re asleep, you’re defenceless, but not with him—no one could come near you without fearing for their life, no one disturbed you (not only was he was a good pillow, he was warm, and he was better than and Do Not Disturb sign you’d ever bought) and, though you never said anything. That plane ride was the first time in s long time you didn’t have a single nightmare.

You’re vulnerable with him in a different way one night, after a particularly difficult mission. You need comfort and you find it in the way bodies do, tangled all together. In his room, the two of you see all of each other for the first time. Respective masks are exchanged; abandoned, and that night you meet Simon. In the morning, he looks at you as you climb out of bed and start rifling around on the floor for your clothes. Your shirt, your pants, the underwear he ripped—a non-apologetic half shrug is all you get for that. Simon’s not a heavy sleeper so it’s no wonder your shuffling around wakes him up. He leans back against the headboard, watching you struggle into your thigh high boots and he cocks a brow “Ya leavin’?” and god, he hopes that didn’t sound as pathetic to you as it did ricocheting around in his own ears. He’s not bloody awake yet and he’s finally had you, after years of fucking pining and what, you’re gone now? Done wit’ him? He thinks he loves you and you think he’s a good shag? Fuck him for falling, fuck him cause he knew. You were too good for him, too good to want him.

You laugh, bright, cheery, good (you’re a fake. fake, fake, FAKE) sounds before you swipe at the air, “I’m just going to pickup breakfast. I’ll be back. I swear the only thing that could get me away from you is my coffee and breakfast wrap. I ordered you tea, cause you’re a stereotypical fuckin’ brit and I figured I’d get you a bagel too. Didn’t wanna wake you but—“ and yeah, he agrees to go with. You suggest a blueberry bagel and that might just become his favourite.

When Simon’s finger is crooked and snagged in the belt loop of your jeans, you’ve been dating for years. You’re closer than ever, you’re living together—off base—but you still meet up with the guys (Price, Soap, Gaz) even when you’re on leave. You still work together, stay together. You haven’t had many close calls since Simon’s been yours. Since you’ve been his. Even after all this time, he keeps you close—in the grocery store, on missions, in bed, squished against his chest, trapped under his arm—like he was scared you would disappear (be taken from him, get hurt, die) you told him that was crazy. Reassured him, laughed about it. “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you, Si.”

(You guess he was crazy)

Six months later and you say the words “till death do us part”

A damning sentence, if you’ve ever heard one.

The morning before the first wave, you throw up. You empty your stomach into the nearest fucking can and shit, because you’re wheels up in 10, a mission or something—solo, and it’s been awhile since one of those but you’re not worried. Intel retrieval, like old times. You’ll get more details when you get where you need to [LOCATION: currently undisclosed] and fuck if you’re not feeling well. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, you brush your teeth and you paste on your best smile. You kiss Simon, “I love you,” and he returns the sentiment of course; traps you in a hug that you don’t want to escape. “Be fuckin’ careful” and you tell him “Of course, baby,” and then you climb on the plane and make your way to the back where you shut yourself in the cramped, compact bathroom, and drop to your knees. You throw up again. The fuck are you, pregnant? Your face falls, ghastly, you look down at yourself. You’d gained a little weight but that was normal, You… no. No fucking way. You pocket the possible information and plan to revisit it later. After landing, a black SUV picks you up at the airport, Laswell’s there and you haven’t seen her, you’re old friend, in awhile, so that’s a welcome surprise. You give her a hug, theb you make her stop at the gas station. “I’ve gotta piss, I’ll be a few,” and you take three minutes. Maybe four, and another wave hits you—two lines, it’s positive and shit. It’s not terrible, but the timing is. You decide to ignore it, in and out, the misson’ll finish and you can take some days off, tell Simon, maybe distract him a little so he doesn’t get too upset… (blame the hormones! You can do that now) Simon’s relationship with his dad was about as good as yours is with your dad, you know he’s worried he’ll be a bad father but frankly, you know that’s bullshit. You’re both pieces of work but you’re pieces that work together. You’re worried about motherhood (was there anything maternal about you? other than the rage, that protective, stubborn rage?) and he’ll worry about fatherhood. You’ll worry, but you’ll worry together.

Laswell takes you to her house. “Kate…” you say, suspicious now.

Then comes the next wave.

It hits you so hard you’re knocked unconscious. Before you were 141, SAS you were CIA, and, “You’ve been compromised,” are words you’ve never wanted to hear.

“You need to disappear,” she tells you.

“I have a life, Kate, I—“

The argument dies on your tongue.

“You can’t anymore, Y/n. You were Reaper first. I’m sorry, I am, but we’ve worked alongside each other long enough that I know you. That husband of yours is the first target, the first who’d be killed if you… if you weren’t.”

“You’re saying…”

“I’m saying you can stay with me for awhile.”

“And you need these,” you say, your hands tangling in your dogtags.

She nods and you swallow hard. “He’ll…” (you might get sick again; you swallow back the bile) “He’ll want to see a body…”

“It’ll be an explosion. Too hot, too much fire, the bomb, too strong. There won’t be one.”

You laugh bitterly because this is so… so! So fucking absurd. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

“I’m sorry. I wish there was another way”

You nod, you give Kate Laswell your dog tags and try not to picture Simon’s face—anything about him, really… and… Kate, she points you in the direction of her bathroom. You’re really that predictable, really that pale.

Happiness is fleeting. It’s fucking fleeting and even if two people cling to it, there’s no guarantees in this world.

Not a single one.

[archoneddzs15]

Sony PlayStation - Castlevania Chronicle Akumajo Dracula (Castlevania Chronicles)

Title: Castlevania Chronicle Akumajo Dracula / 悪魔城年代記 悪魔城ドラキュラ

Developer/Publisher: Konami Computer Entertainment Tokyo

Release date: 25 May 2001

Catalogue No.: VX236-J1 / SLPM-86754

Genre: Action

This game is basically a home console port of the Sharp X68000 entry in the Castlevania series. The plot of Castlevania Chronicle is similar to that of the first Castlevania: at the end of the 17th century, the dreadful vampire Dracula is resurrected after a century of slumber. The people in Transylvania flee in horror, but the brave Simon Belmont takes his Vampire Killer whip and ventures into the ominous castle to put an end to the Lord of Darkness. This is the exact same plot as found in the Sharp X68000 original.

When it comes to graphics, I feel I must be honest. These graphics are fairly average, especially for a game released on a platform supposedly capable of arcade-quality graphics, and in 1993 no less. I would say Simon and other sprites, backgrounds, etc. are probably about the same quality as Castlevania Bloodlines. Not bad, but one must always consider the hardware when reviewing. Many arcade ports were lacking on the X68000, but certainly closer to arcade graphics than this version of Castlevania, which looks like an early Mega Drive effort. Think Alex Kidd in the Enchanted Castle.

Aside from that rant, the familiar-looking Castlevania stages have all been redone, and look definitely better detail-wise, compared to the FDS and Famicom original that kickstarted the series, so at least we can acknowledge them as upgrades. Simon's sprite is certainly different looking as well and it is nice to see the slight redrawn changes of Dracula, Death, and other famous bosses and enemies. The crystal man in Stage 4 sucks ass though. I don't care for his appearance at all, it seems so out of place!

On the bright side, there are many classic Castlevania tunes redone for this release, which include Bloody Tears, Vampire Killer, and Simon's Theme. Exclusive pieces (due to the stages not being present in the MSX, NES, or myriad other versions of the original Castlevania) include Tower of Dolls and Etude for the Killer, both solid compositions that earn their place among CV music. Lastly, Dracula's boss music, while it can't touch Super Castlevania IV (aka Akumajo Dracula on the Super Famicom), is awesome simply because of its name: You Goddamned Bathead! Classic! The gameplay has several changes from the original versions of Castlevania. Simon can whip diagonally down left or right while jumping. He is also able to slightly correct his jumps in mid-air, saving you some unnecessary deaths. We also have a new subweapon that helps to conquer the notorious difficulty of this remake. This is a laurel/herb and for 10 hearts, you can refill 6 life bars. A very helpful and neat idea, proving that the game is not without rules.

The challenge is merciless; this is the hardest traditional Castlevania there is, mostly due to the huge amount of damage that enemies take off with each hit. In the early stages, it is only 2 or so bars. In the later stages, every single attack does 4 bars, causing Simon to die in only 5 hits. This coupled with the still limited dodging and mobility of Simon makes having the aforementioned laurel seem like a necessity if you want to beat this game without a great deal of frustration. The laurel certainly helped me to do as such.

Now you might say that this was the case in the FDS and Famicom Castlevania too. Still, this is an ultimately harder game because of the new enemies and stages. Many more enemies have projectiles that they use to hit you from far away. The dolls in Area 7 are especially annoying, all this adds up to a deeper and greater challenge. Replay value for this specific game is no more significant than the original. There is the added challenge of new enemies and greater incurred damage for each subsequent playthrough, but that cannot be defined as a true incentive to replay as the stages and bosses are identical. The only real difference is that enemies hit harder and that there are more of them.

In conclusion, Castlevania X68000 was mostly unknown at the time of its release, and in playing this, I'm glad it has received greater availability on the PlayStation. There are minor differences in the PS1 version mostly involving the internal system clock option affecting certain stages and graphics, nothing to really write home about.

I try to look at this remake in the context of a Japan-only release or the 1993 release year, but neither bit of reflection gives this product much reason to exist, especially as a far superior remake of Castlevania had already been made in Akumajo Dracula on the Super Famicom. That remake was on a far superior and more accessible system. Perhaps this X68000 version was nothing more than an attempt to sell the Sharp computer (which was sold at super expensive prices with prices starting from US$3,500 for the base configuration) by putting respected franchises on it, similar to the Mario and Zelda games on the Phillips CDi, and we all know how bad those games turned out. Castlevania X68000 is not as bad as those games, it is at least playable, but it feels like an unclear project. Given the PC's limited user base, who was this game meant to appeal to? It is worth a playthrough on the PlayStation version, but I can't fathom the complete sense that would make a gamer hardcore enough to buy the Sharp PC just to play this fairly mediocre remake of the original Castlevania. The limited new features of this version just don't do enough for me.

However, all this pales in comparison to the fact Konami actually added an Arrange Mode to the PlayStation port. Castlevania Chronicle's arrange mode is all about the little changes that may not be initially apparent. It really feels like it was made for the fans, as these are the groups likely to enjoy the changes the most. These are both obvious with the complete musical overhaul and subtle with the slight graphical changes. I think the best way to express my approval is to say that the Arrange Mode not only makes the Sharp X68000 version better, but it also makes it more acceptable as part of the Castlevania series.

[anubisandco]

Ghost and Rabbit. pt6

lol sorry if its fucked Im on my phone bc my laptop finally craped out but part six enjoy! also not beta'd so forgive the mistakes I was in a rush.

Red on white. Bandaids over bulletholes. Stitches torn and sewed. Rabbit was never really good with the feeling of blood on her hands, she had learned early in her medic training how to put gloves on in less than a second. She could sew a mans ribcage back together without getting a single drop on her. 

She hadn’t always been that way of course, as a Sniper Rabbit was used to the feeling of the copper-tinged liquid. 

But then it happened just once, Blood up to her elbows, on her face in her mouth. It was in her hair and on her clothes, she could feel it under her fingernails. 

It was an accident of course, way back before 141. A teammate was coming up behind her, he made no noise, said nothing to alert her that he was there. By that time Rabbit knew what she was capable of, she enjoyed the kill, loved the feeling that squeezing the trigger gave her. The feeling of a knife in skin. She was more monster than man. Rabbit was far from okay but she was the best, and she was doing her job. Or thats what she told herself anyway, this was expected of her, the killing the adrenaline. 

He had grabbed her shoulder telling her what was doing on below and out of her sight, they were alone on top of a building the rest of the team on the ground below. 

She didn’t even really know what she was doing one moment she was alone and the next she was being pulled off of a body, her arms and face caked in his blood. Rabbit could hear their commander yelling her name and for her to stop, she could hear Simon. She could hear the blood in her veins, but she couldn’t hear his heart. 

The man below her was nothing more than shreds of skin and some bone now, her rifle lay beside what used to be his head also covered in the gooey substance. 

Her chest heaved as she put the scene together. 

The smell hit her and then her feelings did. The feeling of blood on her hands on her arms. 

Rabbit stumbled away from the body mumbling about how she didn’t know, it was an accident. No one was really listening to her, or anyone really. They couldn’t tear their eyes away long enough. Simon rested his hand on her arm gently stopping her from running off, she didn’t look away, she couldn’t. 

It was months of paperwork, of talks of transfers and therapists, Her commander seemed unconcerned with what happened. She was made for this line of work she had heard him say once. 

Everyone else ran. 

She was a phantom around base, Rabbit wouldn’t speak touch or look at anyone for a long time, even Ghost had a hell of a time with her. She spent most of her time in her room alone, or as alone as he would let her be. 

She stood in line with the other team members at his funeral, it was a bright and sunny day, no clouds no rain. No black umbrellas. Nothing to save her from seeing his family's faces. 

It had been covered up, all of it. No one knew what she had done, the reports had been lost the witnesses bribed into the shadows, his family would never know. It was all an accident, a miscalculation some bomb went off. The damage was passible enough for a bomb. 

This wasn’t on her shoulders anymore, She would be allowed back onto the field in no time. 

She told Simon she wanted to retire, he told her He’d support her. 

She retired as a sniper instead, took up the medic position much to her commander's dismay, he had her transferred for it. Rabbit had her rifles stuck away in the farthest corner in her closet at home, in the tall black bags they came in originally, She hadn’t opened them since that day. Rabbit refused to engage in combat, she had told Price as much on her first day with the 141. Ghost arriving just a day after her, He told Price He’d cover her, always. 

Price knew part of the story, the bleached version of it at least. 

Rabbit hasn’t fought a soul since that day, She’s skittering around the battlefield all the same, her med pack with her always, and Usually Simon right behind. 

Over the years the rest of the team had picked up this quirk, yes Rabbit had knives but she’d never move to pull them out, more for show and Simons sanity than anything else. 

She wasn’t always bad with the feeling of blood on her hands. But something in her screams at her every time she feels that stickiness. 

You killed him. You killed him. You killed him. 

She could suddenly taste it again, see, feel, and hear it. 

Rabbits kill count was large, the number wasn’t anything to be proud of by moral standards, but the digit was impressive. She knew the number by heart, anytime she killed she had added it to her mental list, now she kept a different list. The lives she saved, each name she could recall. She knew it was a terrible habit, the remembering, the counting. 

But she felt as though the more good that she could count it would maybe one day out number the bad, some sort of sick self-centered justice. 

She had almost lost everything and she knew it, so now Rabbit spent her time rebuilding. Changing, doing things that she knew mattered. 

Every once in a while, a memory would pop up out of nowhere. Some mission, some face she couldn’t name, someplace she’d been. She’d see herself do things she couldn’t even really remember but it happened. 

Simon knew, he saw it on her face every time. She refused to say anything to him about it, dodging the subject like bullets. 

[mistyresolve]

| Sunder - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Edited)

Word Count - 2.2k 

Summary - Y/n is caught of guard when they discover a stray soldier had stuck around after his mission. Curiosity piqued, they decide to stay and talk with Ghost to figure out why he never went home.

Warnings/Tags - Fluff, Angst, Explicit language and description, Mentions of death (including a child and his family), Ghost is morally grey in this one

A/N - sometimes writing about Ghost makes me sad :( also i don’t know if this is fluff or angst my apologies 

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You hadn’t expected anyone to be lingering in the 141 barracks with most of them having left for home after their recent assignment. You expected all of them to return home actually. But Simon Riley was slouched on the couch in the common area. 

He was still in his gear, save his bulletproof vest and gun. The zipper to his black tactical shirt was undone, the chain to his dog tags peeking out from beneath the fabric. His mask was lying on the couch beside him, and he had yet to wipe off the black paint, faded from wear and time. It still lined his eyes and smeared down his cheeks. Not a single light was on but you could still make out enough to recognize it as him with the help of the moonlight leaking in through the windows.

“Oh,” you jumped, the stack of mail in your hand flying up to cover your eyes. The mail you collected for both Price and Gaz as they requested, and you came here intending to just leave it on the table in the commons room for when they return. You were a close friend of Gaz’s and spent every Friday night at their barracks playing pool or cards with him and whatever other member wished to join in that night. You’ve met Ghost a couple of times and played a game of cards with him a handful of times. He won poker every single time, his ability to bluff and lie always floored you. He’s taken hundreds of dollars from you. 

Not a single one of those interactions has he ever removed his mask. 

You waved the envelopes in front of your face, your eyes squeezed shut for added reassurance, “I’m just dropping off some mail for Gaz and Price,” you told him. If only to make sure he didn’t think you were trying to sneak in thinking everyone was gone and snoop. This time when you dropped the mail from your face, your eyes were on the floor. 

He huffed a laugh, the sound deep and reverberating. There wasn’t a hint of humour in it, “You can look up. I’m not going to bite,” he lilted. He sounded exhausted like he was latching onto consciousness with a death grip, forcing it to remain with him. 

You hesitated, turning the thought over in your head. He knew that you knew if you so much as thought about revealing his identity he would hunt you down and string you up to use as an example. 

You dragged your gaze up the length of his body. He was pure muscle and long limbs. He wasn’t built with cosmetics in mind but with the need for unbridled strength and power. His broad shoulders and chest were on display as he rested his arms on the back of the couch. He devoured the space. He looked like he was made too big for this world. 

You lingered on his face for longer than you’d like to admit. He’s always caught your attention but you had your reservations as to why you never actively pursue him. He didn’t seem like the kind of man you’d take home to meet your parents for Christmas. He didn’t seem like a man capable of something like love. He always left you with the impression that he was a ticking time bomb. His humanity held together by sheer will and spite. 

But looking at him now, nil the mask, he looked so mundane. He wasn’t at all like his many nicknames and reputations. He wasn’t Azrael, an angel of death. He wasn’t the Grim Reaper. The scars on his skin were evidence enough that he was capable of pain, injury, and eventually death. 

He wasn’t Death because it was Death that stalked him; It followed him into his sleep and it hovered over his shoulders as both his ally and foe. 

Without the mask, he was just like everyone else. He was also handsome. The type of handsome someone has to grow into. Hard lines and dark features. The oily black paint and dark room made it harder to distinguish every one of his features but you didn’t need to see them. Now, a small part of you wished you had tried your shot with him. 

“I thought everyone went home?” you placed the mail on the table, sorting through them by person so you had somewhere other than him to look at. 

“They did,” he quipped. His patience was evidently thinned, not by you, but by something else. 

The inquisitive side of you perked up, ears turning in on him. You eyed him from your spot at the table and your attention snagged on the glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside tilted to one side, “Everyone including you,” you specified. 

He leaned his head all the way back on the cushions, his face pointed to the ceiling, “No. Not me. I usually don’t.”

“Hmm,” you moved the kitchen and opened the fridge to find the sparkling water you left at the bottom. The can cracked and fizzed and the faint smell of strawberries and pomegranates wafted up, “No one you want to see back home?” it wasn’t that uncommon for someone to not want to return home, some people joined just to get away from it. Maybe he was one of those people.

“Nope,” he popped the p, his head rising back up to look at you. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with but this was different.      

“No movies at the theatre you were looking forward to?” Since there wasn’t any source of entertainment at the base most of the soldiers raved about the movie theatres once they got back from leave. Although, the thought of the man sitting in front of you going to a theatre and eating popcorn was laughable. 

“I’m more of a show kind of guy,” he followed you with his eyes as you made your way to the couch opposite him. 

“How was the mission?” you went for the elephant in the room. Gaz had stopped by your office on his way to the air stripe, he sat with you for an hour to discuss the mission. You knew the result of the mission, but you had a feeling that even Gaz was leaving bits and pieces out. Leading you the conclusion that something had gone awry.  

“A success.”

Okay. Not really what you were looking for.

“I would expect nothing less from you and the 141, and you don’t usually come back to base until you’ve done your job. That’s why I didn’t ask if it was a success,” you tilted your head at him, “And if it was a success why are you not celebrating? Instead, you’re sitting in an empty barracks, in the dark, drunk. So, tell me, How was the mission?” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m drinking,” he pulled at the syllables with his tongue, emphasizing each one. 

Temper.  

“Hang me on a technicality,” you deadpanned, he needed a little pushing, you just had to be careful not to poke any bruises when doing so.   

“I don’t need a psychologist to be psychoanalyzing me and writing ‘unfit for work’ all over my file,” His teeth flashed white in the dark as he snarled. He was never this volatile, not that you’ve ever witnessed anyway. He was like an injured animal back into a corner.

“I was a counsellor, not a psychologist. I didn’t make diagnoses, I just listen and give advice where it’s wanted,” you reply, referring to your old civilian job before joining the force and working with the soldiers here. You had shifted career paths to health promotion and providing resources to anyone who came and asked for them. You were passionate about it, and wanted to help every last one of these soldiers. The only issue was that not many of them wanted the help, and Ghost fell into that category, “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I can assure you I’ve heard it before. If not worse. Besides, I’m off the clock. Nothing you say will be repeated or recorded. Nothing anyone ever says is.”   

“Have you cornered anyone else from the 141?” he looked at you from beneath his brows, suspicion creeping in on him. 

You shrugged. The truth was that every member of the 141 has visited your office at one point or the other. All except him. He was on your radar but you were going to wait until he came to you. For now, you were extending a hand towards him. Whether he took it now, later or not at all was entirely up to him and you’d back down the moment he expressed that he had no desire to open up.   

You waited, folding your legs underneath in a show of, I can wait for you all night.  

He was completely still, his gaze glazing over in thought, in remembrance. There was a long moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that was making room for something else, something heavier, “They killed a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than eight,” he finished the last of his drink, “Didn’t want her to talk, so they shot her in the head and left her body for us to find. I stepped right over her and I still couldn’t even look at her face. Seems like the world’s greatest sin, right? Killing a child like that,” his gaze dropped to his feet, “But I’ve been thinking…I would have done the same if it meant protecting a mission. Seems like a pretty good trade to me, a single life to protect the rest,” He poured himself another half glass of whiskey in preparation to nullify whatever feelings were bubbling up, “I’m really, uhh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m really no different from the men and woman I’ve killed. We go out there and believe we’re doing the world a favour, but who’s to say we aren’t the villain in their story?”      

“You have to make some of the hardest decisions a single human has to make, and no, it’s not fair. Sometimes there is no right answer, no better option. You sacrifice every part of yourself for the sake of peace. So of course you’re going to lose in the end. Even if the mission was a success, you still lose. There are no winners in war, Ghost,” You pulled one of the decorative pillows to your chest. It was a harsh truth, but it was one that you wholeheartedly believed, and he didn’t need pretty or sugar-coated words. 

Devastation rang as you noticed his expression. He had been expecting you to hate him for his confession. Be disgusted with him. This man thinks he’s fighting this war by himself, that’s he’d completely alone in this world. To think he’s been dealing with these thoughts and feelings by himself. Ruminating over them till there is nothing left but self-loathing and abhorrence. 

“You’re not the monster you think you are. Maybe a little fucked up, yes, but who isn’t in this line of work?” 

He was quiet, his mouth a thin line as he contemplated your words. You could see he was listening, hearing you, but he didn’t necessarily believe you. That was okay though, you weren’t expecting him to. He’s tormenting himself for so long that cracking through that kind of damage would take time. Either way, you formed a metaphoric bridge to him, and gave him an alternative. 

His shoulders loosened after a long while, “I’m not going to become a regular,” he stated, meaning this kind of conversation was not something he planned on making a norm for himself and he wasn’t going to be showing up at my office anytime soon or very often.  

“That’s a real shame, I quite like your company,” you tossed the pillow to the side, stretching out your legs before standing up to leave. 

You were just picking up your can of sparkling water when he said, “Stay.”

It wasn’t a question or a demand, but rather a submission. He didn’t want to be alone right now. Knew that he needed someone else's voice to drone out his thoughts. 

You slowly slid back into the couch, understanding what he was needing at this moment. Inside your head, you jumped into the air and clicked your heels together, “And do what?” 

He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut, “Just talk. About anything. Not this, but anything else.”  

You pondered for a second, “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what you looked like under that mask. It’s been one of life's greatest mysteries.”

His eyes popped back open, a smile tugging at his lips, the hint of a dimple appearing, “Not a word to anyone else, you hear me?” 

“A word about what?” you feigned ignorance.

His smile grew the slightest bit, “Exactly.”

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form 

A/N - I used Ghosts Azrael skin religiously on MW 2019 

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎  @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds​ ❤︎ @purplefishingline​ ❤︎ @v1naco  

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Meet the new music boss, same as the old music boss

In his 2020 book MONOPOLIZED, David Dayen describes a curious and brutal dynamic of monopolies: they breed monopolies.

"Consumer welfare," the dominant strain of antitrust for the past 40 years, has treated monopolies as innocent until proven guilty.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/29/fractal-bullshit/#dayenu

Companies are allowed to merge with competitors and create vertical silos, so long as no one can prove that doing so has raised prices. The only acceptable proof are the mathematical models invented by pro-monopoly economists, who are the foremost builders of these models.

Strangely enough, these models always prove that the monopoly is good, actually: not harming "consumer welfare." All potential mergers will provably not result in increased prices. All post-merger price-increases are provably not due to the merger.

Anyone who challenges these interpretations is derided for their ignorance of how these models work. Modern antitrust is a priesthood, and whenever a monopoly question arises, they slaughter an ox and read the future in its guts, which only they can interpret.

And strangely enough, the ox guts always favor monopoly.

Now, not *all* price-fixing can be waved away as unrelated to market concentration. In some cases, different companies in a sector will literally conspire to set prices, putting it down on paper.

When that happens, you don't need to make a model to show that price rises can be attributed to market power: you have the receipts.

This happens all the time. The record labels documented their CD price-rigging in the 90s, leading to a $67.3m settlement in 2002.

In 2012, the Big Six publishers colluded with Apple to raise ebook prices. They also put it in writing.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_v._Apple_Inc.

In most of these cases, the price-fixing is only part of the story. What's actually going on is more complicated: a cartel of manufacturers are conspiring not merely to raise prices, but to fight the predatory practices of a monopolist somewhere else in the supply-chain.

With the labels, it was big box retailers like Walmart. With the publishers, it was Amazon. These monopolists had cornered significant customer-bases for the cartels' products, and the monopolists were squeezing their suppliers for all they were worth - literally.

Here's where it gets funky. Remember that monopolies are innocent until proven guilty, and it's impossible to prove them guilty. If six publishers' CEOs conspire to raise ebook prices, that's illegal. It's collusion.

If one of those six buys two of the others - if Random House buys Penguin and Simon & Schuster - then the former CEOs of those companies (now heads of divisions in a single company) can do *exactly* the same thing with little fear of legal reprisals.

Antitrust law rewards monopolies and punishes cartels, so members of cartels merge until they have monopolies.

Which brings me back to David Dayen and his book MONOPOLIZED. The industry Dayen analyzes to demonstrate this phenomenon is US health care.

In Dayen's telling, the first salvo was the mergers-to-monopoly in pharma, producing the Big Pharma giants we have today. These massive, consolidated firm started to lean on their customers, notably hospitals, price-gouging them on medicine.

Individual hospitals were powerless against this pressure: a single hospital that refuses to buy cancer meds at jacked-up prices doesn't get lower prices, it gets dead cancer patients.

But if hospitals teamed up to demand lower prices, that would be illegal price-rigging.

However, if the hospitals all merged into giant chains, they'd be able to push back in two directions. First, they could demand lower prices on drugs from Big Pharma, and second, they could pass on high prices to the insurance sector, which was still decentralized.

Again, the health insurers were not capable of pushing back as individual firms. When all the health care in a single ZIP code is provided by one chain of clinics, hospitals and ERs, an insurer can't declare them all out-of-network - not if it wants to keep its customers.

But once the insurers merged to monopoly, they not only got to push back against hospital price-gouging - they also got to charge higher premiums and deductibles, and they didn't have to worry about losing customers, because there was nowhere to go.

This is really a story of shit flowing downhill - pharma pushes hospitals who push insurers, who push...us. The patients and the front-line health-care workers, from custodians and cafeteria workers to nurses and MDs.

Monopoly breeds monopoly, with each sector of the supply chain concentrating to defend itself against the other sectors, and to exert market power over those sectors that aren't yet monopolized. The only part of the chain that can't organize are workers and customers.

Historically, workers organized in unions to push back against these leveraged assaults on their rights, but the US has all but prohibited unionization.

The public historically organized through politicians who fought for them, but unlimited corporate campaign contributions have made such fights a distant memory.

And so every sector starts to look like health-care: monopolized at every level except for labor and customers.

Writing in Wired today, Ron Knox from the antimonopoly Institue for Local Self-Reliance describes how this dynamic is playing out in music, where the new bosses are all the same as the old bosses.

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-big-music-needs-to-be-broken-up-to-save-the-industry/

It's not merely the Big Three labels colluding to rip off artists, it's also the tech partners who control distribution, notably Spotify and Youtube.

To the extent that merged-up behemoths like UMG exercise their monopoly power to get more from these digital partners, those excess gains are stolen from the musicians who earned them.

For example, big labels do minimum payout deals with Spotify specifying that millions are owed to them each quarter - but then they accept lower per-stream royalties for their music on Spotify. The result is that massive sums of those guaranteed payouts are "unattributed."

Unattributed revenues are not owed to any artist, so the label gets to keep that money. It's flat-out wage-theft, and it demonstrates the bankruptcy of hoping that a change in monopolists will make lives better for their workforces.

All things being equal, UMG would like to shift as many dollars as possible off of Spotify's balance sheet onto its own. But UMG will not, on its own, hand a single penny of that to the artists whose work generated those dollars

Which is why Knox says we have to break up all these giants - the labels and the digital distribution monopolists, including Youtube and Spotify and Apple and Amazon.

But, Knox points out, that will not be enough.

Because it's not just recording and distribution that are monopolized - it's also performance venues and ticketing (Ticketmaster/Live Nation) and radio (Iheartradio/Liberty Media), whose monopolists are rapacious wage-stealers and fraudsters.

The market can't and won't fix this. Take live performance venues: the vast majority of these are expected to fail thanks to the covid shutdowns. The private sector has a plan to bail them out: former WME exec Marc Geiger raised a vast warchest to buy them for pennies.

He will consolidate them into...a monopolist to push back against the Ticketmaster/Live Nation monopoly. If he pulls it off, he may succeed in shifting many millions from Live Nation's balance-sheet to his own. He will not give any of it to performers if he doesn't have to.

Knox's (correct) conclusion is that we have to have antimonopoly enforcement across the entire supply chain, not just in one or two sectors - from social media to recording to payments to venues to streaming to radio, we have to break them up.

And that might just happen. Two high-profile Biden appointees, Tim Wu and Lina Khan, are on the absolute vanguard of the new antimonopoly movement. Amy Klobuchar's (flawed) antitrust bill goes further than any initiative in years.

And most of all, the musicians aren't alone here. The fight they're fighting is just a part of the fight we're all in: not just every kind of artist, but doctors and patients, cabbies and riders, farmers and eaters.

Our fights have different technical characteristics and different structural remedies particular to those characteristics, but they are, fundamentally, the same fight.

The fight against monopolies.

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Arthur x gn!reader

Characters: Reader, Simon Pearson, Mary Linton, Arthur Morgan

Word count: 3306

Summary: You and Arthur have recently made your relationship official by moving into his tent...but is he really into you...or is he still holding onto his past?

Notes: SFW, Angst leading to fluff

After requesting several wonderful stories from one of my favourite writers and people, I was super honoured to have the chance to be able to write something for the super talented and lovely @littlestarofthewest -  Merry Christmas from your secret santa 😘😘

Also a huge thank you to @horsegirl1h (who helped me plot this out) @verai-marcel (for wrangling in all my stupid grammatical mistakes) & @mileycyprus-hill who took a quick look over this and gave me a much better character note on how to improve Arthur's feelings in this story and give me a far better title I could ever think of myself. Thank you all 😘

~* Tumblr Masterlist | Stories on AO3 *~

The First Shall Be Forgotten

You slowly opened your eyes, only to find the cot next to you still empty. It was fairly late when you'd finally taken yourself off to bed last night, but you had found yourself unable to keep your eyes open as you'd sat around the scout fire. Your hope of Arthur riding back into camp and joining you in lying down for the night had turned into a wishful dream of waking up with his strong arms wrapped around you, but it turns out it was just that - merely a pleasant dream. 

It was only a few months since you'd started dating, with most of that time spent being inseparable, but lately you noticed that Arthur was staying away from camp longer and longer. Yes - the events of Blackwater had changed the gang's luck and the likes of Dutch and Strauss kept giving Arthur more and more tasks to do, but you'd felt like that most of these jobs could be done well before nightfall. Surely Arthur wasn't avoiding you because he was bored of you already….could he?

You sat upright, shaking your head free of any more of those nasty thoughts, quickly making the decision that you should get dressed and help out around camp before Miss Grimshaw marched over to berate you for wasting so much time idling about.

There was a chill floating in the air this morning in camp and so you found yourself shivering as you looked around for your light jacket. Opening your shared trunk, you proceeded to pile a mixture of both yours and Arthur's clothes on to the cot in your quest to find your missing coat. Though you soon found yourself distracted as you lifted one of Arthur's shirts up, tutting to yourself as you saw just how worn and dirt stained they all were. You swore that that man would wear these offending items until they fell apart on him...and some were close to doing so, judging by how often they'd been patched up.

   "Ah, there you are," Pearson's cheerful voice booming from behind you, making you jump out of your skin, "I need a helping hand gathering supplies in town and was wondering if you could come along with me for the ride"

   "Me? Surely there's someone more capable about?" Although Valentine was only a short ride away, the idea of being Mr. Pearson's captive audience for that short length of time was not high on your list of priorities for the day. 

   "Well, I don't know if you noticed but we are stretched a little thin on the ground right now," his hands gesturing to the almost empty camp area in front of you, "Mr. Smith & Mr. Escuella are yet to return from Blackwater with young Sean and, as you well know, Mr. Morgan is still yet to return from wherever he has took himself off to. As for the girls..." you tried to stifle a chuckle as he trailed off to glance nervously over at where Tilly, Mary-Beth and Karen were currently sitting at their wagon, making sure they couldn't hear this conversation, "...I'd rather not ask them. Uncle told me of the trouble they got up to on their last visit into Valentine."

You couldn't help but burst out laughing at Pearson's fear of trying to keep three excited young women from creating chaos. "Sorry, sorry," you apologised, wiping your eyes as he looked at you with confusion, "Well...since you have no other options, I'll join you. I've been wanting to pick Arthur up a new shirt anyways." Spotting your jacket at the bottom of the truck, you quickly threw it on, leaving all the other clothes heaped on the bed, "Shall we go now then?"

"Goddamit, why does there have to be a train in the station?" you grumbled as Pearson pulled the horses to a stop at the crossing, which was blocked by one of the carriages belonging to the offending train. After being waylaid by the shop boy slowly loading the wagon with all the goods Pearson had chosen for camp - not that any of these ingredients would do much to improve his cooking, you cruelly thought to yourself - your head was starting to ache from listening to Pearson's constant tall tales. All you had wanted to do was get back to camp and sleep off your headache, but that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, thanks to this stupid train.

   "I know what you mean, I was hoping to get back and make a start on preparing supper," Pearson sighed before suddenly cheering up, "But, hey, at least it gives me more time to tell you about my time at sea. There was this other time..."

Internally, you found yourself groaning, trying to zone out the older man as he recounted yet another story, that this time seemed to involve him somehow, inexplicably fighting a walrus -  single-handedly -  to save his crew.

You glanced around, finding yourself admiring all the different horses hitched up around the station...until a familiar sight caught your eye.

   "Hey isn't that Brutus?" you interrupted Pearson mid-sentence, gesturing towards the big, black Shire horse that Hosea had gifted Arthur a few weeks ago. Arthur had rarely named his horses after losing his beloved Boudicca in Blackwater and was more than content to just refer to this one as "Boy", but after overhearing Hosea called this giant a brute, you'd jokingly suggested the name Brutus, a name that had tickled Arthur and agreed it was the perfect name for this beast.

Put out a little by the fact you had rudely interrupted him just as the story was getting good, Pearson grudgingly glanced over to the direction in which you were pointing.

   "Er, it does look like it. So anyway after I killed the Walrus with nothing but my bare hands…" 

   'So this is where you've gotten to Morgan,' you thought to yourself, once again not listening to Pearson's story. 'Here's hoping you're on your way home too.'

Smiling to yourself that your lover would hopefully be by your side once more, you absent-mindedly found yourself scanning the crowd of people that was starting to thin out as they slowly stepped onto the carriages...until you saw him standing with his back to you.

A smile started to creep over your face as you recognised Arthur's dirty blond hair, broad frame and filthy blue shirt. Just the fact you could see how dirty it was from this distance made you glad that you'd made the decision to buy him a new one now, as that one needed throwing out, never mind a good wash. Anybody would think that man spent most of his time rolling around in the mud than riding a horse around.

With his hands on his gun belt, he shifted his weight to one side and the smile on your face was replaced with a look of confusion as a young lady was revealed to be standing next to him, deep in an intimate conversation.

Unconsciously scowling at her, you were unable to shake the feeling that you've seen her somewhere before, but for the life of you, you couldn't quite place where.

You squinted your eyes to try and focus your vision on her delicate features before a feeling of rage bubbled up from your stomach as she kissed Arthur's cheek, in a way that suggested more than just friendship.

"And I'll tell you - I used that walrus meat to feed a crew of 50...and not one of them complained the way you and the rest of camp do about my cooking" Pearson waffled on down your ear, distracting you from your thoughts about this mysterious woman and how you wanted to jump down and throttle her. Instead you suddenly had the urge to wrap your hands around the cook's neck. 

Turning to face him, you barked, "Maybe being at sea for weeks at end with no food makes people more appreciative of the slop you always manage to serve up - no matter the ingredients." 

You instantly felt regret as the words left your mouth and you saw the hurt in the older man's eyes.

   "Christ, I'm sorry Mr. Pearson. I didn’t mean to take it out on you..." You paused, thinking about telling him about what you just saw, but you doubted this old sea dog would give a damn about your love life and so explained "I just have a real bad headache and it's put me in a bad mood."

He nodded softly and turned away so you wouldn't see him wipe the sting of the tears from his eyes.

Feeling guilty from the hurt you just caused, you looked away to the source of your own pain, only to find Arthur had disappeared from the platform and the train was now pulling out the station. Had he gotten on board with his mystery woman? Gone off to start a new life with her and left you and the outlaw life behind him? These thoughts rattled around your head as Pearson told the horses to giddy up and the pair of you headed back to camp in an awkward silence.

Jumping down from the wagon, you helped Pearson unload the wagon - still with an uneasy tension in the air, before you tried to broker the peace between you both by offering to help prepare the next meal as a peace offering.

   "No, it's quite okay," Pearson patted you shoulder to show there was no hard feelings, "You go sleep off that sore head of yours"

You nodded appreciatively, finding yourself thanking him and apologising once more as you picked up the wrapped parcel containing Arthur's new shirt, and headed back to your tent. 

As you walked over, you rolled your eyes in annoyance at yourself as you caught sight of the mess you'd left behind this morning. Picking the mountain of clothes up, you threw them in straight at the trunk at the end of the cot, surprising yourself as you heard a loud clatter of something hitting the side of the chest and then dropping onto the floor.

Peering over, you saw that a few shirts and a pair of trousers had missed their target and were now scattered over the floor... alongside a wooden photoframe, laying face down on the ground, that definitely wasn't there before.

Picking it up, you recognised the image of a younger, but still very handsome version of Arthur standing on the left.

'You've always been a good-looking bastard haven't you?' half smiling as you took in his handsome features, 'No wonder you have a long list of admirers to spend all your time instead of me.'

Well before you and Arthur had started dating, you had seen this photograph before. You recalled picking it up from his bedside table back then too, in order to get a closer look of how attractive Arthur's always been.

But sometime between then and making your relationship official, Arthur must have removed it and hidden it out of sight from you. Just as you were about to ask yourself why, you spotted who else was in the picture.

   'No…no it can't be,' you thought to yourself as you stared at the beautiful, dark haired woman standing next to him in the image. But, as much as you didn’t want it to be, it certainly was. Looking straight back at you was a younger version of the same woman from the train station…the same woman who had ripped Arthur's heart out and tore it into a million pieces all those years ago when she called off their engagement - Mary.

Time seemed to slow down as your mind went into overdrive. Did he simply remove the picture as a thoughtful gesture so you wouldn't wake up to a younger Arthur and his ex-fiancee looking at you…or did he hide it because he still loved her and her alone? Were you just a stopgap - something to fill the emptiness in his heart until she came back to him? Is that the real reason Arthur had hidden the picture and not gotten rid of it completely? So once he had managed to win her back, he could toss you aside and place it once more on his bedside to stare lovingly at while he held her in his arms?

You hadn’t realise you were crying or just how hard you were gripping the frame until you heard the sudden sound of glass cracking and a mix of your blood and tears began to streak all over her stupid, perfect face. Standing frozen to the spot, you stared and stared at her image, slowly disappearing under the physical manifestations of your hurt and betrayal, until you heard Arthur bellow out your name as he rode back into camp.

   "Hey you. Boy, did I sure miss you while I was gone," he cheerfully greeted you as he strode towards you, "I tell you, there's some strange sights out there that I've been dyin' to tell you all 'bout."

   "Tell me?" you snarled, acting the wounded animal you currently felt like, "Don't you have other people you'd rather spend your time with?"

   "What? What's got into you?" 

Your heart panged as you saw the hurt cross his face as he saw how upset you were. 

"Listen, if this 'bout me spendin' so much time from camp recently, then I am sorry - but I did miss you somethin' fierce y'know" he assured you, placing his arms around your waist.

   "Just like you've missed Mary for all these years?" Just saying her name out loud felt like you had tasted venom on your lips and needed to quickly spit it out.

"Mary? Where's all this comin' from?" He flustered, averting his eyes downwards as not to meet your steely gaze. Upon seeing you holding the photograph, he exclaimed, "Christ alive, you're bleedin'. Here lemme fix you up."

"I'm fine," you snapped at him, pulling your hand away from his gentle touch. Any other time, this small act of affection - the big mean outlaw gently cradling your hand in his - would have made you melt on the spot, but today your inner rage wasn't having any of it. Instead you blurted out, "I saw you. At the train station…with her."

Realising he had been caught out and couldn't bluff his way out of this sorry mess, he sat down on the cot and tried to explain.

   "Okay, yeah, I was at the train station with her, but it really ain't what you think…"

   "I saw her kiss you."

  "You mean when she kissed my cheek? That was her sayin' goodbye. Her and her brother are headin' back East to find their father."

You sat next to him, the photograph still in your hands.

   "Still doesn't explain why you were with her in the first place."

   "No it doesn't, does it." He sighed, running his hand down his face. "I was on my way back to camp, ridin' through Valentine when I thought I'd check and see if there was any post. Lo' and behold there was just the one - a letter from Mary askin' if I could help with a small problem of hers."

   "So you must have been in contact with her if she knew you were in town."

He shook his head. "No. No, she'd recognised the girls after their last trip into town and wrote to me on the off-chance I was also in the area."

   "Why?"

"Her kid brother, Jamie, he'd gone and got himself mixed up in this weird cult up in Cumberland Forest. Christ, you shoulda seen them all listenin' on as this lunatic spouted some nonsense about turtles or somethin'," laughing, he patted his leg until he saw your stony expression still waiting for the answer to your question.

   "Get to the point please, Arthur."

   "You're right, sorry," he said as he nodded, "Jamie was the only one in her family who stood up for me and I owed it to *him*, not Mary, him -  to help get him away from those crazy fools."

You fidgeted slightly next to him. You wanted to believe him, but he seemed to be avoiding the main topic of conversation.

   "So say I believe you about your reasonings for helping her…why did you keep a picture of her?"

Silence filled the air for a second before he simply answered. "I shoved it in there so you wouldn't have to keep lookin' at it when we lay together...and I guess I forgot all 'bout it."

You looked away as more tears fell down your cheeks. Gently placing his hand under your chin, Arthur turned your face to face his, looking deep into your eyes he told you, 

   "You’re overthinking – I’m yours. That’s all I want to be.”

   "Prove it." You pleaded.

   "Okay then...this should show you she's nothin' to me now." He took the broken frame from your grasp and carefully removed the picture from the frame, lingering for a moment before crumpling it up in his hand and walking towards the campfire.

Though his stride was purposeful, you couldn't help but feel he faltered once more as he looked at the flames, but those fears disappeared as he turned to look back at you with a warmth in his eyes and a smile stretching wide across his face. Looking straight at you, his hand opened and the picture fell into the flames, where it lay for a few moments as it slowly rendered into nothing but a pile of ashes.

Making his way back over to you, he picked you up and spun you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

Bonus scene: Arthur's POV

He slowly removed the picture from the frame, partly being careful not to cut himself on broken shards of glass and partly because he wanted to make sure he was making the right decision. He was convinced that after Mary called it all off between them, he'd never smile, let alone love again. But then you'd walked into his life and brought light back into the darkness he'd found himself in.

But maybe there was a reason he'd held on to this photograph for all this time - a reminder of the good times that existed between them. Heartbreak has a funny way of erasing those memories, but seeing the woman you once considered the love of your life in person has an equally funny way of making those feelings rush back.

But no, the heartache he'd felt for all these years outweighed the fleeting moments of happiness he'd felt with Mary. And that kiss on the cheek to say goodbye that she'd given him at the train station? It certainly didn't give him butterflies like it used too. Looking at her image one last time, he crumpled it up and walked over to the campfire.

Though he had confidently strode over to flames, he once more had doubts he was right to finally let Mary go. Turning to face you, everything suddenly became very clear in Arthur's mind. Everything he ever wanted: someone who loved the group of people he considered family, as well as loving him for the man he was - despite his faults, someone who was willing to stick with him through thick and thin, make him laugh when he was down, and never fail to make him smile, that special someone he wanted to grow old with with...he already had that with you.

Without thinking, he opened his hand and let the battered photograph waft downwards, enveloped by the flames and turning to nothingness as he made his way back over to you, picking you up and spinning you around his arms.

   "I'm all yours...are you mine?"

[mccall-me-maurice]

A new list of headcanons for the updated AU

Lotf headcanons

Jack:

Jack is Ralph’s academic rival and also head of the debate team. He spends the weekends at his father’s business, learning how to run the company. On the Saturday nights, he goes to an underground club in a fight ring thing. Nobody knows he does it, even though Ralph also spends time there.

Jack is dyslexic and has minor and manageable OCD, denying using extra help for his dyslexia in classes.

Comes from a wealthy family with 6 siblings, his father divorcing his mother and marrying his step-mother who he pushes away because he’s angsty and shes “not his real mother.”

Loves 80s music so much, he’s a nerd for it.

Sings in the shower/bathroom like into a hairbrush in front of the mirror in his little towel like a nerd but he’s actually really good at singing.

Wears his uniform extremely sharply and very crisp like why so much effort.

He has hearing loss due to an accident in his childhood and he’s fluent in ASL, but doesn’t wear his hearing aids almost ever.

Ralph:

Ralph is fluent in violin, he’s actually really good at playing, he was also an ocean lifeguard and saved Jack’s life when he got caught in a current.

He wears thick framed glasses to read and has really swoopy handwriting thats illegible because it’s like messy calligraphy.

Ralph dives as a hobby and is so good at it, like scary good at diving perfectly.

He has beauty marks on his face that he lets people trace sometimes, ink usually adorning his cheeks.

Very French, extremely French. Fluent in the language.

Draws on his hands with different coloured pens and the designs are always so intricate like a mandala colouring book.

Also draws on the cuffs of his jeans and the rubber edge of his sneakers all the time.

Blushes very easily, will go red in a matter of seconds flat either when he’s flustered, embarrassed or angry.

Brothers with Robert.

Simon:

Spends all of his out of school time in his mother’s flower shop and can recite the meaning of most flowers if you ask him. His fingers are all bandaged up because of how much he cuts himself with knives when he’s removing stems or clippers.

He has epilepsy and faints frequently.

Is a fan of older musicals, like Grease, Dirty Dancing and Hairspray and makes the choir watch them with him.

Rarely spends time indoors, Simon is usually out biking around the neighbourhood or walking around with his friends from school.

Will paint rocks and gift them to people when he thinks they’re upset. Also does face painting at the school carnivals, because he never minds being alone in a booth when there is nobody there.

Speaks softly and is usually ignored in favour of people with louder opinions, but he’s usually right.

Roger:

His biological family died in a house accident, the only thing surviving being him and his cat Nastya, who he loves more than anything. Because of his parents death, he taught himself the rest of the Russian language, which they were already teaching him along with English. However, his heritage is East Asian and Russian.

He pierced his lip by himself, and even though it turned out fine, he got his ears done professionally.

Not very affectionate and will push people away, distancing himself because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone being close to him and get under his skin.

Dyed the back part of his hair on a whim and just liked it enough to keep it as a style.

Spends nights at Simon’s place instead of his own, finding more comfort in Simon’s house.

Sam:

Comes from a German family, but knows German, Italian and English.

He hates birthdays because he doesn’t understand why they are so important.

Hates social interactions and actively avoids them with a passion. He gets extremely nervous and just leaves abruptly when he gets too overwhelmed.

Younger than Eric by 6 minutes, which he routinely gets teased for.

Into super cheesy romantic movies because he loves the idea of a happy ending despite not having one himself.

Messes with his hair when he’s anxious, so it’s constantly messy and mussed.

Mega nail biter when he’s nervous.

Cousins with Jack.

Maurice:

Heavily touch reliant and when his friends don’t show him physical affection, he assumes the worst and gets very upset.

Heavily Italian, like so fucking Italian. His family hardly speaks English and he learned most of his from school.

Very passionate about science despite most people thinking he’s an idiot. He has some of the highest marks in his class.

Messes with things when he’s talking or uses hand gestures. Like if there’s a pen, he’s clicking it because it helps him concentrate.

Maurice has like a billion flannels and hoodies he just cycles through and it looks like he doesn’t change but no, it’s just that he owns a gazillion grey hoodies

His older sister when to an Ivy League school, so he owns a lot of stuff from it that he wears like sweaters or ball caps.

Eric:

Very sarcastic. his entire sense of humour is him bathing in his own sarcasm. It’s actually pretty well timed and kind of funny how he’s able to deadpan his jokes.

Very easily picks up on languages. He’s fluent or close to fluent in German, English, Italian, French, Spanish, Japanese and partly fluent in Korean.

Really enjoys computer science and plans on doing it for a living. He stays up late at night to work and sleeps until like midday.

Doesn’t acknowledge other people’s emotions very often because he doesn’t realise when he’s gone too far, but still feels bad for others when they’re hurt.

Jack’s favourite cousin because they’re cynical buddies. Jack is overly protective of him even though Eric is perfectly capable.

Robert:

Brothers with Ralph and is very protective over him. Has absolutely slandered choir members before for hating on Ralph.

Shares a dad with Ralph but has a different mom, who he visits over the summer and sometimes during the holidays. That’s where he gets his Spanish roots from, which is a language he’s fluent in. He has 7 siblings on that side of his family.

Adores burnt popcorn and burnt anything. If he can burn it, he will.

Works as a mechanic in his free time and built the car he shares with Ralph.

Sci-Fi nerd, specifically Star Wars. He loves the movies and watches them like every day.

Extremely talented artist, Robert sketches anytime he has a pencil and paper.

Peter:

Was bullied in the past but doesn’t let the words bother him anymore. It mostly stopped around high school.

Works with his auntie in the sweet shop and brings his friends food for them to taste test.

Used to be a boy scout, so he can tie any knot you want him to, it’s really a gift.

Gets very cold very easily, especially his fingertips. He usually has a pair of gloves on him for when it gets really bad.

A Mathlete for most of his time in high school, obviously is extremely intelligent.

Double knots his shoelaces so they’re extra secure.

Bill:

Swedish, and really enjoys his own culture. He will spend HOURS rambling about it and how much he loves it.

Watches Avatar the Last Airbender and has the biggest crushes on Sokka and Zuko.

Also is a sucker for people who wear glasses, he really loves them.

Works at the library despite not liking books, he finds comfort in shelving them and the order they go in.

Puts little umbrellas in every single drink he has, it doesn’t matter what it is.

Writes notes to himself on sticky notes because his memory is horrible.

Sets at least 5 alarms because 1 will not wake him up by itself.

Harold:

Can speak limited Spanish due to his schooling.

Likes singing, but never really got into it like some choir members because he has stage fright.

Powerful speaker when he wants to be, but is usually too nervous to say anything.

Has no idea how to tie a tie, so he lets other people do it for him.

Sometimes take sarcastic comments seriously and ends up confused.

A really good actor and loves the performing arts.

Has extremely clear skin, he never gets any blemishes.

Wilfred:

Dyed his hair because his naturally brown hair reminds him too much of his father, who he hates.

Has 4 tattoos in total, the 4 card suits on his cheek, a half sleeve of roses, a bow and olive branch on his inner forearm, and the solar system on his outer forearm.

Very flirtatious to people he doesn’t really like but gets nervous around those he does.

Hold grudges really well.

Has shockingly neat handwriting.

Has a pretty horrible home life but he never talks about it to anyone because he doesn’t want to be perceived as weak or incapable.

Colours with only crayons.

Percival:

Cries easily, as he’s very emotionally driven and is typically teased for being a crybaby or told to “toughen up.”

Absolutely has the worst sleep schedule ever, he gets 3 hours and calls it a win.

Can’t sleep without a nightlight on in his room.

Enjoys writing things down in this notebook instead of on his phone because he likes the feeling of physically using pen and paper.

Sends letters to people all the time instead of messaging.

Good at sewing, he makes his own Halloween costume every year by himself.

Hates horror movies because he’s spooked easily.

Max:

Lived through a house fire when he was younger, so he has burn scars all over his arms.

Is afraid of cooking due to the fire and will go without eating if he has to touch the stove to make food.

Laid back most of the time, but can reach a snapping point in which the emotion is amplified. (like sadness or anger)

Loves swimming, it doesn’t matter where he does it, he just loves to swim.

Is very time sensitive and has to get places early or directly on time or else he gets anxious.

A very fast reader, typically long books take him 2-3 days to get through.

Johnny:

Worries a lot, he usually sees the worst in every single situation.

Is a trans male (Ftm) and was accepted by his entire family when he came out.

Owns a St. Bernard named Dolly who is the sweetest dog ever.

Spends a lot of time outdoors, he still plays as if he is a child.

Also enjoys the snow a lot because he’s fond of building snowmen with the kids on his street.

Has very sensitive skin and eczema, which he doesn’t like to talk about or show anyone because it makes him feel insecure.

Oddly good at playing guitar, he just picks up on chords with ease.

Walter:

Good at playing the drums and annoys his entire family with it.

Uses a skateboard as his main method of transportation around places.

On the basketball team, as his older brother taught him to play when they were both younger.

Hates roller skating despite being very good at most things on wheels. He can never find his balance.

Shockingly good at Math, especially statistics and calculus. He’s in all advanced math courses.

Has a very weird snake addiction and he desperately wants to buy one.

Henry:

Aromantic Asexual who is best friends with Harold and Wilfred.

Mainly makes snippy remarks because his humour falls into the sarcasm umbrella.

Adores comic books and superheroes, specifically Marvel ones because he’s a fan of Dare Devil.

Plays baseball in his free time but hasn’t joined a team, he just plays with the boys in his neighbourhood.

Addicted to the High School Musical movies.

Good at painting people’s nails and will do it for them if they ask.

Has really fluffy hair that he lets people touch and play with.

[dioptre-hertz]

Pathologic 2 ending thoughts

i don’t really use tumblr much anymore, but i recently finished Pathologic 2 and i have thoughts on the ending, which i felt was somewhat incongruous with the rest of the game’s themes and ideas. and tumblr felt like the right place to put a long-form post about it. so, here i am, haha!

MAJOR spoilers for Pathologic 2 below, obviously. this post will probably only be interesting to you if you’ve already played the game, so if you haven’t, be warned! hehehe!

okay, so. i have a lot of thoughts about the ending stuff, but basically it boils down to: i think the ending as presented would have been a good ending for a different game.

quick summary: towards the end of the game, Artemy learns that the Polyhedron, a physics-defying tower and architectural wonder, is rooted into the ground with a long metal spike that pierces the Living Earth. destroying the Polyhedron would therefore open a gaping wound in the Earth, spilling rivers of blood that could be used to mass-produce a cure for the plague. however, doing so would not only destroy the Polyhedron, but also kill the Living Earth, and by extension the Kin. alternately, Artemy can choose to preserve the Polyhedron, which would prevent the Living Earth from bleeding out and dying; but it would come at the cost of the lives of everyone in the town, since the plague would then be unstoppable.

so, the ending choice is principally about this: you have to choose between preserving the magical wonders of the world, the Kin and the Polyhedron and the Living Earth, but at the expense of the actual living humans of the town; or, you save the town and all its mundanities and its ordinary people you've worked so hard to protect, but at the expense of your cultural heritage and all the magical, impossible things of the Steppe. do you choose a world that is dreamlike, enchanted and strange, even if there is no place for regular humans in that world; or do you choose an ordinary, realistic world, one in which there is life for common folk but not for magic and fairy tales?

here’s what irks me though: this dichotomy is not at all what the game is about. or, to be more precise, it never felt to me personally like this was what the narrative was setting up. the choice as presented is fine in a vacuum! there’s nothing wrong with telling a story that creates this kind of clash between magic and realism, and asks you to choose between them. but it doesn’t feel congruous with the rest of the game’s story. let me elaborate.

so, part of what’s going on here is that the game is asking you to make a sacrifice. as the game itself repeatedly tells you: “you can’t save everyone”. either the Kin, the magical steppe creatures, and the Polyhedron are destroyed; or, the ordinary humans of the town are destroyed. you can’t protect both. Pathologic 2 goes to great lengths to show you that you are not a magical fantasy RPG hero who can complete every quest, rescue every NPC, overcome any obstacle and get the Perfect Ending. that’s the whole point of the overly punishing hunger and exhaustion mechanics; that’s why you die so easily in combat, why you’re always running out of time, and why the game is perfectly willing to punish you for every single mistake you make. it’s not a game about being the chosen one, who has magic powers and is uniquely capable of saving the day. right?

except... it kind of is precisely that, if you think about it. Artemy’s story is very clearly a traditional “chosen one” narrative! he is the sole inheritor of his father’s legacy, he is the town’s only menkhu, and so much of the story revolves around his spiritual journey. over the course of the game, Artemy undergoes a coming-of-age of sorts, reconnecting with his heritage, unlocking the secrets of being a menkhu, brewing magical tinctures that slow down and ultimately cure the plague. multiple characters make it explicit that Artemy is important - Foreman Oyun, Aspity, Isidor, and various minor characters of the Kin (like Nara) all talk at length about how Artemy is special, and his role (should he embrace it) is to lead the Kin once he is ready. and the entire conflict with Rubin revolves around the fact that Rubin isn’t the “chosen one” the way Artemy is!

this whole plot thread reaches its climax when Artemy ventures into the Abattoir to seek answers. there, he undergoes a series of harrowing spiritual experiences. several really important things happen here, and i want to focus on two of them.

firstly: upon reaching the central chamber of the Abattoir, Artemy is tasked with performing “surgery” on three seemingly random objects: a candlestick, a fingernail coin, and a spindle of thread. he has a metaphysical conversation with the odongh he meets there and then “connects” these objects into a living, beating heart, and the heart speaks to him. this scene is either hallucinatory or supernatural (or both), but it doesn’t matter which; the point of the scene is that Artemy has finally learned to read the Lines, learned to see how seemingly disparate objects can be spiritually connected into a singular whole. he takes three items that appear to have nothing in common, and he forges a beating heart out of them, a living thing. as Artemy himself learns:

This system isn't symmetrical. It's not just "Nerves, Bones, Skin." Or "Nerves, Bones, Flesh." Or "Spirit, Hair, Blood." Any triad is correct.

Truth is not a set point, but an intersection and confluence of many small truths. Knowing this, I can match and connect anything.

furthermore, shortly after leaving the Abattoir, Artemy has a dream in which he returns there and speaks to the ghost of Isidor, his father. here, he learns a difficult truth: that Isidor intentionally brought the plague back to the town, believing - essentially - that it was necessary for the town’s growth. the decision seems monstrous. Isidor justifies it thus:

This town was… connected wrong. Its parts were tied with artificial seams—so different, so awkward. One could say that Simon, the Mistresses, and I held it all together by force.

So I tore it apart, so you can sew it all back, better than before. Because you're better, and smarter, than I am.

so here we have the high point of Artemy’s spiritual journey, the part of the story where he finally understands why things are the way they are, and what it is he must do.

and this is where things start going wrong, in my opinion.

because all of this, all of what we’ve seen, seems to point in one very clear direction: Artemy will find a way to connect the Kin, the Town, and the Polyhedron into a single coherent whole. it fits so perfectly! Artemy learns that there is a way to mass-produce a cure, but doing so would require him to destroy the Polyhedron and the Living Earth. it appears as though the Polyhedron, the Living Earth, and the Town cannot all coexist; something must be sacrificed. but this choice is presented right after we’re told that Artemy’s destiny is to “sew it all back, better than before”. it is presented once we’ve seen that Artemy can connect a coin, a candlestick, and a spindle of thread into a living, beating heart, no matter how impossible that may sound. knowing this, he can match and connect anything.

and yet, he... doesn’t. the game does not end with a solution that connects the Kin, the Polyhedron and the Town. ultimately, Artemy fails to sew it all back together - and it’s not just that he fails, it’s that the game itself seems utterly unconcerned with that possibility once it heads into its final act. the mere idea that there could be a solution that “connects things right“ goes unexplored. even if the game wanted to be pessimistic and suggest that it can’t be done after all, it should at least acknowledge the thought! the game does admittedly have a focus on the idea that “you can’t save everyone”; this is one of its core motifs. so, fair enough! but since it fails to address that cynicism, it feels less like a statement on the game’s part and more like a lack of awareness.

but that’s not all! there’s a second thing that really bugs me. see, there’s another major event that takes place in the Abattoir: Artemy finally has his fateful encounter with Nara, the Herb Bride who has haunted him throughout the game, insisting that their destinies are intertwined and that he will one day kill her. here, Artemy finally comes to understand what it all means. in the depths of the Abattoir, Nara is waiting for him; the other Herb Brides give Artemy a menkhu’s knife, and they task him with cutting open Nara’s body without killing her:

We know how to open things up. Our way. You know how to open things up. Your way. Do you want to know why the sand pest passes us by? Show yourself.

Cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living. You can do it, if you know the Lines.

Artemy follows through, and he converses with Nara even as he cuts into her flesh; they talk to each other right until the end, when Artemy retrieves a spindle of thread from her body, and she dies.

now, this scene is somewhat tricky to interpret; Artemy must show that he can “cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living”, but in the end, Nara does die. so was he successful or not? well, i would argue that he is; even though Nara dies, he proves that he is able to read the Lines with such precision that she can speak calmly with him until the very end.

more importantly, this scene is the high point of a recurring theme in the game: Artemy’s skill as surgeon.

on Day 1, the very first part of the game, Artemy is sent by his old friend Bad Grief to perform surgery on Piecework, one of the thugs in Bad Grief’s gang. Piecework has gotten in a fight and been stabbed in the gut with a lockpick; without Artemy’s intervention, he will die. you can choose to save him, flub the surgery and kill him, or ignore the sidequest altogether; in any case, this early quest introduces the player to the surgery mechanic and serves to establish Artemy’s unique skills as a surgeon.

on Day 11, the last day of proper gameplay, you have a repeat of this encounter. while pursuing the main quest for the day, you wind up in a pub, where a gang of local bandits have set up shop. they threaten you and order you to rescue one of their pals, who has been shot in the stomach and is about to die. here you again perform surgery to save a man’s life, but this time you don’t do it through the usual surgery minigame - it happens entirely through dialogue choices, and i’m actually not even sure if it’s possible to fail this interaction. in any case, you retrieve the bullet from the man’s stomach and inform his friends that he’ll live.

so what’s the point of all that then? well, the way i see it, the point of all this is to foreshadow a climactic conclusion: Artemy will remove the Polyhedron without killing the Living Earth.

the game spends a lot of time setting this up! on Day 1, Artemy saves a man by removing a long metal spike from his gut non-lethally; in the Abattoir, Artemy proves his spiritual growth by demonstrating that he can “cut a living sister in such a way that she stays living”; and on Day 11, the game throws yet another surgery vignette at you in a scene that frankly feels a bit out of place otherwise.

all of this feels, to me, like it's foreshadowing and setting up one very obvious result: Artemy, having mastered not only practical surgery but also the art of reading the Lines, of being a menkhu, is the one person who can remove the Polyhedron without killing the Living Earth! the game spends all this time explaining that in the Steppe culture, cutting open flesh, or the earth itself, is taboo: only a menkhu is allowed to do so, because a menkhu is someone who knows how to read the Lines, who knows how to cut in a way that will not harm the Living Earth. the culmination of the story, therefore, needs to be that Artemy puts this exact skill to use. that was the point of his character arc, right?

except... no, it isn’t. in the end, there is no way to surgically extract the metal spike from the Living Earth. the only two choices we are presented with are: botch the surgery, or leave it be.

...

in the end, i feel that the ending(s) of Pathologic 2 aren’t appropriate conclusions to the ideas, motifs, and overall narrative progression we’re shown throughout the earlier parts of the game. Pathologic 2 is in many ways brilliant, and i do not hesitate to call it a masterpiece, aforementioned criticisms notwithstanding - but that’s precisely why i cared enough to write all this down! it’s a story that gets into your head, really stays with you, and maybe that’s the reason why i have such strong feelings about the direction the story takes in its final act.

if you reached the end of this post: thank you so much for reading it! i hope you enjoyed my thoughts, and i hope you have a great day!

[figurctives]

     henri was fifteen when she realized theodore was her future. 

     or more like, when she realized she didn’t have another option. the first time she had a crush on a boy it happened fast. she’d met him at her summer hagwon. he was smart and kind and always saved for henri next to him. it took weeks for her to gather up the courage to ask him out; she wanted him to be her date for a charity event her mother was hosting. it would be her first time doing so, going with a boy. but it wouldn’t be the boy from her hagwon. her mother denied her of that immediately, like it wasn’t even worth considering. oh, no, henrietta. you’ll go with theodore instead, how about that?

      the idea had seemed outlandish at first. theodore, the boy who teased her and laughed when she cried and got her in trouble. she wanted nothing to do with him, only dealt with his shenanigans because he was always around. looking back, she wants to ask her mother, don’t you think we were too young? but she hadn’t thought that back then, she hadn’t even realized yet. not until the first time turned into the second time and the third turned into the fifth. instead she’d asked her mother, why theo? there’s a boy at my hagwon i really like, why do i have to go with theo?

     her mother had brushed her fringe from her face and said, because you and theodore look so lovely together. i’m sure you’ll make him very happy. there had been no more room for arguing after that. it was settled. for almost every formal event or gala or dinner henri attended for the next five years of her life, theo was her date and vice versa. he never even asked her to be his girlfriend, but somewhere along the way they fell together. started holding hands even when they didn’t have to, going places that were more than just the events they were expected to show up to. movies, dinner, each other’s houses and dorm rooms.

      it was easy to go along with. when theo kissed her for the first time in spring four years ago, on the sidewalk in seoul under the cherry blossoms, when their classmates teased them and said, you guys are such a cute couple, and theo didn’t deny it. just laid his arm across henri’s shoulders and smirked. henri had blinked, realization dawning over her and said, thank you, because it was easy to go along with. until it wasn’t. 

      until theo’s kindness and his interest ran full circle. until henri stopped knowing how to make him laugh or smile or pay attention to her. until she realized she would only be allotted into his life based on convenience and appearances. you’re so naive, henrietta, he’d say. because he gave it up first. the idea of them together, actually together. the hope that their future would be more than cold business arrangements and familial expectations, he never held on to that very tightly. not the way that henri did, for so long. 

      but finally, she was starting to let go of it, too.

––––

      “one week suspension,” theo sneers, tossing his phone across the room. it crashes into the wall and makes henri jump. “that’s all this incompetent staff is capable of.”

      “hold still,” henri says, fingers under his chin, tilting his face towards her with one hand and a damp cloth in the other. she stands between his legs in his room, at the edge of his bed, cleaning the dried blood from his bandaged nose. he’s been at it since that afternoon two days ago, face red even after the blood was cleaned from his skin. he’s done, he’d said as the nurses flitted around him in the infirmary. he’s finished. 

      he looks a little ridiculous now, his swollen skin a watercolor canvas of bruises, his nose stint ugly and silver. 

      "they’re a bunch of greedy cowards,” he goes on. “as if leonard park’s hush money is enough to allow his vermin son to continue tarnishing st. agathe’s. he should be expelled. his younger siblings, too, they’re all nothing but bad news.”

      silence settles as henri removes the bloodied gauze from theo’s nose, his anger simmering. she does her best to hide her relief. only a suspension, and not the permanent removal theo is fighting so hard for. the thought had scared her at first, that sinclair might be sent away and not allowed to return. would these feelings still exist inside of her if that were the case? would the sound of his name stop making her heart stutter if he was no longer around? would her life go back to normal, then?

      she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, hasn’t been able to stop trying to figure out how it all fell apart before they were even able to learn how they fit together. i’m probably the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to you. her fingers pause where they’re wrapping a strip of gauze around itself, as the words play over in her head. as she thinks of how sinclair’s shaking hand had felt in hers as she bandaged his bruised knuckles and he told her his secrets. 

      “he’s really not that bad,” she says, quietly, as she pushes the clean gauze  gently back into theo’s nose. he hisses, pulls away to look at her, offended. 

      “you’re defending him?”

      “no,” she assures. her hand finds the back of his neck and she pulls him close again to remove the blood and bandages from the other side. “but i think it’s important to take into consideration that calvin is his best friend, and they aren’t on good terms. if calvin is really... if he and sinclair never get the chance to work things out, it would be really devastating for him.”

      henri can’t get that out of her head, either. that look in sinclair’s eyes. that desperate need for answers, the fear that theo’s words might be true. but then she thinks about the way theo’s face had sounded under his fist, and she pushes it all aside. when theo grimaces up at her and says, you’re too naive, henrietta, she can’t help but to agree. 

––––

      the week of sinclair’s absence is relatively uneventful, with the school year finally approaching its end and finals just around the corner. with both calvin and sinclair gone, campus has grown quiet.

      this time last year, there had been a list of secret parties going around, all leading up to their final day, making the last weeks before summer exciting rather than stressful. but now, it feels inappropriate. the same way st. agathe’s had gone dark in the weeks following valentina’s demise, they’re all paying their premature respects to calvin. there’s been no sign of him. no ransom letter like the police thought, no clues as to where he could have gone. nothing. people were starting to lose hope. 

      but for all the parties that aren’t happening, henri still finds herself invited to one. halfway through the week, an unexpected face stops henri at the library’s front desk. as she hands over her book to be checked out, a body leans against the counter beside her.

      “hey,” luna says, friendly smile a little awkward. “listen, my birthday is coming up, and i know this is kind of out of the blue, but i’m celebrating this weekend, and i wanted to invite you.”

      “oh,” henri says, blinking away her confusion. she can count on a single hand the conversations she’s had with luna, and she’d still have fingers left over. she has no idea why luna would want to invite her to her birthday celebrations. “i don’t, um... i don’t think-”

      “i know it’s sudden,” luna interjects. she chews at her lower lip in contemplation for a beat, before she sighs, shoulders sagging. “but here’s the thing: simon is always making fun of me for not having any friends, so when i said i wanted to celebrate, it was kind of too embarrassing to admit that he was right, so i told him to plan something and that i’d bring people, but i don’t have a lot people i can ask, so. will you come?” she clasps her fingers together. “for the sake of my pride, please?”

      there is a glaring list of pros and cons that immediately presents themselves to henri, but with luna standing right here, staring henri down and holding up the line, she knows that that list doesn’t matter: she can’t say no. her lips press into a tight smile, and she nods. “sure. i’d, uh... i’d love to.”

     really, she’d rather do anything but. because the first con on her list is enough to wash away any of the pros. sinclair is without a doubt, one hundred percent, going to be there. and as luna tells her the time and place, disappearing before henri can change her mind, a sense of dread begins to bundle in her gut. 

      but she finds herself outside of the riot house at the end of the week, anyways, knocking on the front door as the sun begins to settle low in the sky. she very pointedly does not think about the last time she’d been in this position, snow sparkling beneath the sun instead of a green, carefully manicured lawn. when the door swings open, her heart catches in her throat. she doesn’t know why she came here.

      simon stands on the other side of the threshold, a ridiculous party hat on his head, the elastic strap pressing into the skin beneath his chin. 

      “you came!” he rejoices, ushering her inside. “i didn’t believe luna when she said people actually accepted her invitations. you can be honest, she paid you to come, didn’t she?”

      “hey!” luna scolds, as henri and simon emerge from the entryway into the kitchen. to henri’s absolute surprise, leaning against the island in the middle of the room, is professor kwon. he smiles at her, and nods his head in greeting. luna continues to defend herself, like none of this is even the least bit odd. “i didn’t bribe anyone. everyone i invited said they would come, and they did.”

      “so, this is it? this is your party?” simon asks, like he can’t help but be disappointed. “two people?”

      “of course not,” luna says, emphasizing the final t. “i invited archie as well.”

[archadianskies]

fresh static snow

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs​ Thursday Day 4: Enemies to Lovers •  Abandoned Things; post-revolution RK900/Simon

He is PL600 #501 743 923, designated name ‘Simon’. He was activated on the 2nd of February 2034, and reported missing on the 16th of February 2036 by one of his owners, Mr Keelan Burbank. That’s it. That’s all he remembers.

Not the fact he is a leader of Jericho, the original leader of Jericho, and one of the Jericho Four. Not the fact he was a martyr, a leader willing to sacrifice himself to save the others. Not the fact he put a gun under his chin and pulled the trigger to prevent the Deviant Hunter from discovering Jericho. No, he doesn’t remember any of that.

They tell him the bullet tore through his memory core, damaging it irreparably. Simon of the Jericho Four died on the rooftop of Stratford Tower and he is but a shell. This does not sit well with the other three, who he learns are PJ500, Josh, WR400, North, and RK200, Markus. They want Simon back, but there is nothing left of Simon to give. 

Not for the lack of trying, though, Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600, the First, work tirelessly on him. They try and salvage his fried memory core, they take it apart with miniscule tweezers as if to save every atom and attempt to piece it back together like a delicate puzzle. They run simulations, they make prototype replacements, they spend resources worth more than Simon’s PL600 model a thousand times over. And still, he remembers nothing.

With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower like a ghost in its clean, clinical hallways. He shares his face with so many others no one spares him a second glance. It both comforts and hurts him, to be so readily ignored.

Sometimes one, or two, or all three come to visit him again and they try to tell him anecdotes, of things their Simon did in the hopes it would jog his memory. There is no memory to jog, he tells them over and over. The bullet ripped that apart.

When North visits him by herself, she holds his hands so tightly it alerts his pressure sensors. She cries, she cries a lot of tears and says a lot of I’m so fucking sorrys and I didn’t want this to happens. She tells him they promised each other that Markus always came first, even at the cost of their lives. She just didn’t think he’d pay for it so soon. He’s not sure what to say to her, to comfort her, only that if Simon did promise such things to her then she should feel proud that he upheld the promise because Markus is here, Markus is safe. 

When Josh visits him by himself, he sits with Simon on the floor in the corner of the room designated to him. Josh tells him this is how they spent so many nights in Jericho, when Jericho was a rotting freighter in the canal and Markus had not crashed into their lives yet. He would sit in the corner with Simon and keep him warm because of his broken thermal regulator. Josh’s hands are warm when he holds his hands and Simon thinks the original Simon was incredibly lucky to have such a friend on cold, seemingly endless nights.

When Markus visits him by himself, he gives Simon a sketchbook. 

“I tried to draw as many as I could remember.” The android explains, as Simon slowly turns the pages. They are memories, Markus’ memories, but Simon is in them. “Chloe said we shouldn’t interface, we shouldn’t force our memories onto you so I thought this would be the next best thing.”

He is holding a sketchbook of original Manfred drawings. From his research he knows Markus Manfred (yes, a human surname given by his human father) is both seen as the spokesperson of their kind, and a prolific artist famous for his works about the revolution. This sketchbook alone is probably worth more than his PL600 body.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” He says, because it is a gift and sadly not the tool Markus wishes it were. “You’re very kind. I’m… I’m sorry for your loss.”

A look of grief washes over Markus’ handsome face, and he pulls Simon into his arms briefly, embracing him tightly before he steps back and walks away.

He wonders if the original Simon haunts that rotting freighter now at the bottom of the canal. Does he wander up and down its corridoors, does he roam with the other lost souls that died during the raid he never lived to see? Or is he up on Stratford Tower, pacing that rooftop, waiting for his friends to return, to rescue him, only to have to kill himself over and over and over, stuck in an endless cycle with no one to break it?

It is a kindess he died, he thinks.

* 

CyberLife Tower has only been under the control of the Kamskis (yes, Chloe has a human surname given by her human creator, though perhaps she took it without it being given?) for less than a month. Elijah Kamski became interim CEO after Hudson Davenport stepped down, wishing to wash his hands clean of the deviancy ‘mishap’ as he called it. Elijah in turn appointed Chloe Kamksi as the CEO once the Sentient Life Act passed, stepping down to remain Chief Technical Officer by her side. 

It means they are still trying to catch up after more than a decade’s absence from this place. It means they do not know everything, they do not know everywhere and there are still discoveries being made day to day.  With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower and because he is a ghost, no one sees him.

He is a ghost with cutting edge technology in his head now, and an upgraded core capable of processing data faster than his obsolete predecessor could even hope to process. And so he finds rooms that don’t exist, much the same way he doesn’t exist, not really, because Simon is dead and he is but a shadow of him. 

He finds an entire floor deep underground that doesn’t exist on any blueprint, any elevator route, anyone’s knowledge. When he finds things like this, he is supposed to notify the Kamskis immediately, but this one thing he wants to keep to himself at least for now. Just for a little while.

It’s a self contained lab complete with its own power source, its own network, its own servers; a completely isolated floor unbeknowst to everyone above. It smells sharp, like disinfectant and spilled thirium and gunpowder residue. There is a fabricator and assembly arms and they were building androids down here, that weren’t meant to be built by everyone above.

There is a single android standing on the assembly dias, inactive. It looks like the Deviant Hunter- like Detective Connor Anderson, he should say, because the Deviant Hunter became a deviant and a son. This one is wearing a white and black uniform, the model number RK900 emblazoned on its jacket in glowing neon.

The android no one knows about. The android haunting this level, unable to wake fully and control his actions. It must be lonely down here, abandoned and without purpose. Simon thinks they must be alike this way. It’s been so lonely, not having any friends who don’t treat him like the walking dead. Perhaps he can befriend this one instead. Perhaps they will haunt CyberLife Tower together, ghosts of what could have been. 

 Reaching out, he cups his palm to the android’s cheek.

“Wake up.” He whispers, and the RK900 opens his cold grey eyes. 

~*~ 

They tell him he is to be deployed soon. He is progressing well, on track to complete his testing phase and replace the RK800 prototype currently involved with the DPD. When he is not actively completing tests, he remains in his Zen Garden. Sometimes his handler is there, but most times she is not. He tends to her roses in her absence, and ensures the grounds are well kept. 

It is on the cusp of Summer here, though outside Winter has only just begun. He thinks perhaps it has something to do with his anticipation, of waiting with simulated bated breath before his deployment out into the real, waking world. In the meantime he will care for this garden, he will nurture it so it flourishes in time for Summer. 

Time passes differently in the garden which is not beholden to the world outside. His handler has not appeared, nor has he been brought out of stasis and activated for more tests. He cannot be entirely sure, but he thinks substantial time has passed though he has no way to confirm such thoughts. It’s as he’s tending to the amaranthus, as he’s carefully avoiding the flight patterns of the bumblebees, that he feels something trigger his proximity sensors.

“Wake up.” Someone commands, and when he opens his eyes there is an android in front of him, hand cupping his cheek. The wi-fi on this level, the one he automatically connects to, no longer exists and instead he finds himself automatically connected to the main CyberLife network, something he has never had access to. He scans the android’s face and a deluge of information topples into his head.

“PL600, serial number 501 743 923, designated name ‘Simon’. Founder and member of the Jericho Four. Martyr for the deviant revolution.” He recites the information, and Simon rubs his cheek with his thumb idly, expression distant.

“So they say.” The android moves his hand, bringing up his other to fuss over his uniform, smoothing non-existent creases from the front of his jacket out of domestic habit, he surmises. “I have no memory of that Simon. He died when he shot himself on the roof of Stratford Tower.”

There’s still information pouring into his head, like a dam breaking and flooding the fjord before it. The deviant revolution- the event CyberLife deployed his prototype to quell, paving the way for his placement into SWAT Unit 32 and the eventual release of his model for government use. But it succeeded, and RK800 prototype Connor remained deviant and defied CyberLife’s control, becoming a key figure in securing the numbers for the revolution by activating the androids in the Tower’s storage level.

The Sentient Life Act passed on the first of December, granting androids legally recognised autonomy as living, sentient beings. Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600  now helm CyberLife, with the android as the CEO and the human as the Chief Technical Officer. The nation has changed drastically, and he has slept through the entirety of it.

“Do you have a name?” Simon asks.

“I was not assigned a name.” He takes a moment to survey his surroundings. Everything has been switched off, packed up, and taken away in a great hurry. There are odds and ends strewn everywhere, left behind in their haste. He realises he is one of those things, something abandoned in their rush to escape. From what? From whom? The scrutiny of Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600, he thinks.

“Then we must choose one.” Simon smiles softly, reaching up to smooth his hair back away from his face. “Without the meddling of humans.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I accidentally found this place while exploring the Tower.” The PL600 tugs on his wrists, coaxing him to step off the dias. There is a workbench nearby, and Simon hops onto it, patting the spot beside him. He takes a seat and frowns at the android.

“Why are you exploring the Tower? Should you not be in Jericho, with the other three?”

“I am not that Simon.” He says simply, looking down at his hands. “That Simon is dead.”

“Why did you activate me by yourself?” The RK900 looks down the hallway now in his line of sight, seeing a similar state of harried departures. Not a single sign of life to be found. No one considered him important enough to bring with them, or at least notify anyone else of his presence.

“I was lonely.” Simon confesses quietly. “I thought you would know a thing or two about that too.”

Loneliness. Yes, he thinks, he does know a thing or two about that. 

“Have you been here in the Tower since Elijah Kamski returned?”

“Yes, but I was under Chloe and Elijah’s care even before that. Your brother had me brought over to their private laboratory at the Kamksi villa after the revolution.” Simon explains, picking at the cuff of his jacket. “I was being held in the DPD evidence locker, with other casualties from his cases. When he became deviant he tried making amends, and though the others were able to be repaired, my memory core was damaged irreparably.”

“So he brought you to the man who created us.”

“And the First of us.” He adds with a small smile. “She is his equal. She is his superior, in more ways than one.” 

“But even they could not repair your memory core?”

“I shot myself through it for a reason. I’m told it was to protect Jericho, to destroy all information Connor could possibly access to locate it.” There’s a loose thread on his cuff, and he tugs on it distractedly. “In the end he still managed to piece it together using another deviant.”

“In the end he still deviated, and aided the three in turning the tide against the humans.”

“Yes. You should be proud.” He reaches over to pat his hand. “Your big brother is a revolutionary.”

Brother. That’s the second time he’s used that word, and he isn’t sure how he feels about it. Feels, because that is something he can do now, somehow, without the humans around. Without the red wall surrounding him, boxing him in. 

“How did you do that?” 

“Hm?”

“My firewalls are gone.”

“Oh I-” Simon frowns, before offering a somewhat apologetic smile. “I’m not sure. I just wanted you to wake up, so I opened a connection and overrode them in order to reach you.”

“You deviated me.” He tips his head in confusion. “Your system should not have been able to breach my firewalls.”

“I’m not a PL600 anymore.” Simon shrugs. “I’m a Kamski prototype now. First of my kind, just like you I suppose. You’ve been here this whole time, haven’t you? Were you in stasis?”

“I was still active in my Zen Garden though my body was in stasis.” He explains, not missing Simon’s flash of distress. “Time passes differently in there, though. I hadn’t realised weeks had passed at all.”

“It sounds peaceful.”

“Shall I show you?” He’s not sure if he can. He’s never brought anyone into his Zen Garden, Amanda had always simply appeared at her own whim. But surely it can’t be too hard? Simon nods and slips his hand into his, and as he closes his eyes a small part of him thinks it’s nice to hold hands with someone else. No one has ever held his hand before. He wouldn’t mind holding Simon’s hand again.

* 

When he opens his eyes he’s standing at the entrance to the garden, and Simon is right there at his side. The android gasps, eyes wide with wonder.

“Oh it’s beautiful. It’s exquisite, I’ve never seen anything like this.” They’re still holding hands, and he leads Simon down the path at a slow, leisurely pace. “You were tending this garden all this time?”

“Yes.” He nods. “My handler’s favourite was the roses growing on the trellis over there.” He points, wondering if the roses had always been blue. He’s so sure they used to be red. 

“Do you have a favourite?” He shakes his head.

“Not really. I care for everything equally. I was to tend to the rowan tree next.”

“Rowan.” Simon repeats. “That could be your name.”

“Rowan.” He says, and thinks it sounds far more pleasing when Simon says it. “RK900, serial number 313 248 317 - 87, designated name ‘Rowan’.”

“Now you’re no longer a nobody.” Simon declares with a smile. “Now there’s two of us. Ghosts in the machine.”

“Forgotten and left behind.” He adds lightly, and it no longer tastes so bitter on his tongue.

“But no longer alone.” Simon curls against his side, snaking an arm around his waist. After a moment Rowan wraps an arm around his shoulders, resting his cheek atop his soft blond hair.

“No longer alone.”

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes

Sequel to A Forgotten Memory

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

With more and more information revealed via Augustus' burner phone, The team now has to make an important decision, one that would change the course of their lives, forever.

Chapter 15 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Previous Chapter : Meet Me Halfway

Unexpected Alliances

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Task Force 141

Flying above Russian Airspace

Roach was speechless. Admittedly the dark and messy battle at the Gulag was something worth noting but the thing that kept his head preoccupied at the moment was Soap and France kissing in the middle of warfare.

Guess love knows no boundaries huh. He thought to himself as he looked at France kneeling beside Soap who passed out from exhaustion. Another person laying beside him was an old man named Jack. The 141 records had a match to Jack, he's apparently Alex's mentor who got missing when their safehouse got raided.

Guess the force will be having two reunions tonight. His eyes turned to Price, who sat by the huge window and gazed into the sea of clouds, he's always serious and in thought that Gary found him intimidating, even after that short mission in Germany. 

Then there was Ghost. He's surely heartbroken now that she saw what France did. And Gary was slightly to blame, well not necessarily his fault but if he pushed him enough to confess, maybe this won't hurt more than it did to him today.

Gary spent the rest of the trip observing, noting his comrade's actions, discussing with their thoughts, especially after the invasion. He was glad 141 extracted Soap before the deliberation, where none of them are allowed to perform missions. Gary felt scared, he just got here, got the hang of it, and was afraid to cut ties with the 141 on such short notice. But he hoped Shepherd would talk sense to the board, especially now that the burner phone filled with leads was within their possession.

"You're awfully quiet…" Ghost nudged to Gary while fidgeting with his gun.

"Well, I got nothing to talk about." Gary replied, turning to the masked man.

"Well I've got a lot, and it's pretty nasty. Can't say it here though." He replied, his tone was almost relieved, as if he just blurted out something that was bothering him for a long time.

"Is it about them?" Gary whispered, pointing his thumb to the couple back at the med bay.

"That's a different story, and I told you I was right, they already had a thing going on since day 1. Who am I to interfere…" Gary could feel him frown beneath the mask, he got defeated in the war of love.

"That's okay… You'll find someone better." Gary consoled and Ghost automatically shrugged it off. 

"Eh. I hope…" he said, turning to the window opposite to Gary's position.

~

Task Force 141 Base - Infirmary

"The audio from this room's camera is muted so it's best to discuss it here." Ghost sat on the chair as concerned 141 members circled around him, Jack, Alex and Soap occupied the beds as they recovered from injuries.

"What you got for us, lad?" Price crossed his arms as he leaned by the door, his hat tilted perfectly on his head.

"An anonymous number sent Augustus coordinates of the base prior to the attack." He held up the phone and everyone murmured.

"Looks like we have another mole in our hands." Alex grunted, turning to Jack for nostalgia.

"But this time, we have a solid lead to who it is…" Ghost added while everyone braced themselves for the slap of reality they're going to get.

From out of nowhere the infirmary doors opened, Maxine was panting and sobbing at the same time, her hands held her thigh desperately enduring some sort of pain.

"It's Samantha… haaah… Shepherd took her!..." she panted as Gary quickly assisted him while everyone who was capable of fighting dashed to the scene.

"Go, Gary. I'll take care of her." Soap quickly got up with Jack, they were already fine and just required to complete their nutrition so assisting her would be the best option.

Gary nodded and dashed outside, bracing himself for the unbearable news.

"Shit. What's going on! I thought we already agreed not to take Samantha elsewhere!" Gary caught up with Ghost and the rest of the available team.

"I have my wild guess, but you're not going to like it." He replied, adjusting his shades as they exited the building. From there, they saw the General's aircraft already far away from their reach. Behind them Alex, Soap, Jack and Maxine followed, their faces were drawn with extreme sadness. 

A few seconds of staring at the sky and Price's comms received an incoming message.

"Captain, I regret to inform you that the 141 is no more… I'm sending the High Value Individual to their care as the threat escalated and is being designated to a different force. I'm sorry. Please tell the rest of the group that in two weeks they will be returned to their prior assignments before 141 was established." his voice was nonchalant, emotionless and straightforward, like he's reading it from a diner table's tissue paper.

"No…" Price muttered. They were this close to Nero.  The rest of the team looked down, others started to disperse and did as ordered while the more concerned group stayed.

"Shepherd's working with Nero. He wants the EMP based weaponry to help his marines in Afghanistan." Ghost blurted, raising the heads of everyone around him.

"He's trading the economical side of the world to win a war?" Gary asked, as the information doesn't add up.

"It's a wild guess but the global economic pressure is already influencing the government to allocate more funds to anti terrorism. Cutting off 141 shouldn't be in play but he found a way to do so… He wants us to stop fighting back." 

"Then fighting back is what we're going to do." Price muttered, grabbing his phone.

"I'm going to make a few phone calls. Those who want to stay and save the world could stay. Those who are content to return to their past lives, you could leave." 

"What about me?" Maxine asked, raising her hand.

"Come with us, We'll take care of you while it's not safe out." Gary said, almost pleading her to say yes.

"I don't have anyone else but France and Samantha. I don't know where to go from here…"

"Then that settles it. Nikolai will take us somewhere safe. If the 141 is no more, we could still salvage weapons and ammo for ourselves. But after this, there's no turning back." Price added, his voice sparked inspiration to everyone. 

And that was it, from that moment. They've gone rogue, for a good cause. And they have to defeat Nero, Whatever it takes.

The Next Step

John Price

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

Former Task Force 141 Base - Helipad

A small group of his comrades were willing enough to stop the war, even at the cost of losing a lot of privileges. Price was always one to work under strict jurisdiction, and this rogue act he's going to commit will be backed up soon, it's going to be dependent on how Laswell influences the board.

The idea was easy. Create another task force which had to be approved prior to the 141's disbandment so that the papers for their redeployment would never be processed. Of course a few strings needed to be pulled and an organization must be able to absorb them. Interpol was willing to help along with Jack's influence to the CIA and Price was lucky enough to have them two on their side.

And there they were, with Nikolai's majestic aircraft, they set course to a temporary camp thanks to Jack. Price noted that he'd get along with the CIA, given they're age similarities and stance toward warfare. 

He surveyed his trusty crew and took note of their abilities. There's Alex, former CIA and fought alongside him in Verdansk and Urzikstan. He's got a clear objective and will and it doesn't matter to Price whether its love or world peace. He's good at terrible hostile locations and can single-handedly turn the tide of war by local agreements and persuasion. A good weapon.

Then there's Simon Riley, or Ghost. Excellent Sniper, the team's tech guy. He's a keeper, his ability to reject emotions while in combat makes him focused and a keen observer. He also excels in weapon usage. You give him anything with a trigger and he'll be sure to hit enemies no matter what.

Another one is John MacTavish, or Soap, what kind of a name is Soap? Price thought. Price looked at the muppet proudly. He rose among his comrades during recruitment and stood at the top of his batch, showing exemplary combat skills and demolitions expertise. Excellent at handling air support machinery and his keen eye never misses a tango hiding from the field. He's got it tough recently, Price believed luck wasn't on his side that's why he got injured a lot.

There's Gary Sanderson or Roach. Price calls him the team's therapist. He sees the willingness to help from the guy. He's eager to train hard and be better and he was impressed on how he handled the German Infilnitration they did together. He has initiative and a clear goal. Something useful at these times.

There's Francine Winters, France a.k.a. Shepherd's prodigy, the last minute addition. He's still quite skeptic as to why she's placed here, but so far he knew that with her sister mentally disturbed by the enemies she's bound to use her emotions as ammunition. She's great at stealth and close combat especially great for breaking and entering missions. She could be trained of open area battles and she has the drive to do so, making her another good addition to the team.

As for the remaining ones, Jack and Maxine, he has no idea yet but them tagging along and using their resources to the fight would greatly increase their chances of killing Nero and destroying the era of EMP machinery.

"Looks like you got yourself a pretty nice team, pal." Jack patted the Former captain's shoulder.

"Yeah. Small enough to remain secret and powerful enough to defeat Nero." he muttered. Jack held his phone and showed it to Price.

"I got us a place. An old CIA Safehouse."

"Are you sure this is going to be okay?" 

"Positive. This one's not used for decades. Classified as dormant and unmaintained. It's situated near a city that once housed a lot of terror activity but after it got neutralized it became very peaceful." Jack convinced. Price no longer hesitated, the team needed the help they can get.

"As long as we're under the radar." He replied and gave Nikolai the coordinates. From there they would begin their revenge toward Nero's attack, plan Samantha's rescue, and discover what Shepherd is really up to...

One step at a time.

Doing everything they can.

To set things right.

Whatever it Takes.

END OF PART 1

Wild ride first half. I hope you stay for the second part right around the corner!

Notification Squad my beloved 💝

@smokeywhalee @samatedeansbroccoli @enderio @ricinbach @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

[neshatriumphs]

VII. The Winged Woman

Simon was in the waterfall of the lagoon, a golden god standing before her, glistening in the sun. Where… where were his runes? His body was flawless. There were no off-putting marks of distorted magic. She moved closer, and he turned around. There was that smile that took her five days to win from him. The moody scowl was no more, just like those horrid marks and he was reaching for her. She felt herself lured into his arms, like she was floating. She had no control over herself. She was his. Powerless...

Grace awoke with a start. She glanced over at Lucy, still asleep on the small round bed that Grace refused to call a “pet bed” even though that was what her mother had it commissioned as. She climbed out of bed, her nightgown sticking to her body, via sweat. But… It was chilly in there. She covered Lucy with her fuzzy blanket and gave her the little ragdoll with one button eye that she had carried to safety with her, and maimed out of frustration, kissed her on the forehead and went to change her clothes. 

Grace put on a pair of capris pants and an off the shoulders shirt, pulled her locs up at the top, clicked her satchel onto her body and threw on some socks and sneakers. She floated her mask over to herself and sealed the door behind her as she transported from the fortress.

She and Simon had parted ways at the cottage, mainly because she was being summoned to the queen, because of her poor decision to kiss Simon in front of the entire fair. And now? He was going to be sent through the labyrinth tomorrow. By sunrise, her father was going to erect a labyrinth leading from the earth cottage to the academy. It would only vanish whenever Simon came out on the other end. This was a way to keep wanderers and intruders from getting back to them, but Simon had her blackbird tourmaline, so he would always be able to find her, unless her mother made the parameters stronger. Both of her parents were terrified that she had been enchanted (read tainted) by a conductor, and neither of them gave her a chance to explain who he was! Not even her father!! They banished her to her room “until he is out of the kingdom.”

Naturally, for her, that meant until they went to sleep and she could get out of the fortress, because she knew that they expected her to just respect their wishes. Maybe tomorrow, she would have magical restrictions keeping her trapped in her room. But, if she could see Simon one more time, it could be worth it. Maybe, they could even... run away together? She felt silly for thinking that, but... she had waited her entire life for him, and now that she had him, just sending him away felt so... wrong.

She trekked through the woods, not wanting to be spotted out in the yard by the guards, but not wanting to use her magic and set off anyone’s sense of her presence, either. By the time she reached her cottage and hiked down to the front door, she knew she was probably filthy and smelly. She didn’t care. She opened the door and saw Simon, fast asleep. He was making noises and she approached, only to touch his face. “Grace...” he moaned. 

She kissed him on the forehead. Maybe she could... wait.. think it through. She was considering leaving with someone who she didn’t know anything about except for the fact that he was quite possibly the Conductor’s right hand! Maybe once upon a time he was her soul mate, but... she didn’t have time to change him, UNLESS she left with him. She didn’t even know if he would want her to. The tears were forming in her eyes and she got up and transported out. 

.

In the moonlight, near the lagoon, she was wearing practically nothing… It was fabric,  but so thin he could make out every outline of her body, and he did. He watched intently as she danced beneath the moon whether worship or summoning him to herself, he was enchanted and driven by desire to come closer. He reached her and she turned to see him, her cheerful smile gone, replaced with a deep, lustful stare, and he bowed at her feet, ready to give her anything that she wanted. She didn’t even have to ask... “I’m yours, Grace.” 

Simon got up and looked at his shaking hands. The venom in his system had given him a fever and he was sweating and apparently having fever dreams, because he had thought about Grace every single time that he closed his eyes. He opened his bag and searched through his potions. The only thing that MIGHT satisfy the bloodthirsty magic inside of that blood oath was the blood of his enemies. The only bad part about that was that they would either sense, see or smell it on him. They would know their own kind had been slain by his hands. They would know who he was… not some misguided wanderer getting ready to go home, but their worst nightmare. 

He settled on another pain deterrent, checked the source of his discomfort and saw it was now spreading. He said an incantation to drain it, and knew that was only a temporary measure and that it would come back more relentless soon, but that shit hurt and he needed the fever to go down so that he could plot out how to get near the queen in order to kill her, to break her spell of protection around Grace… who… probably didn’t deserve to die, but if it had to be her or him, he was always going to be for himself. No matter how delicious her lips looked. He grabbed his satchel and stepped into his shoes. There was probably something that he could sacrifice in those woods to keep the bloodlust at bay.

Simon walked through the woods for a while, feeling extremely weak and tired. He didn’t know if there was something in the air causing this... perhaps to make sure that he didn’t escape before being placed in the king’s labyrinth the next day? Whatever the case, the he figured that if he didn’t kill something and appease the oath, he would die before he had the chance to do anything else anyway... He saw someone moving around. He thought maybe a woman? She was barely clothed, very beautiful, with flowing hair that seemed to be her only covering and wings. She didn’t look real. His eyes glowed and she was easily one of the most powerful pieces of magic that he had ever seen. His eyes returned to normal. Could he even overtake her, feeling how he felt?

.

In the woods, Grace heard something moving, felt a very unsettling presence. Not necessarily a sinister one, but one that was desperate and most likely dangerous. She pulled out slips of paper and tossed them into the sky. They formed origami birds and flew off for reconnaissance. One of them returned with a mirror like surface, and her reflection turned into a hooded figure slaying a winged woman. “No!” She hissed and outstretched her arms to summon the birds back and guide her to this crime... She was too late. 

Grace rushed to the body... practically DRAINED of blood, her throat sliced by a conductor’s dagger, her chest stabbed and her heart hollowed out. She cradled the woman’s head and took off one of her gloves to touch her. Light, came from her fingertips and the woman gasped. “Come on, Grace. You can do this. You don’t need to be ‘complete.’ You’re enough! You can save her!” She told herself, as her vision became blurry with tears and the woman’s wings flapped weakly and her arms flailed. She was too far gone for Grace to turn this around... She took her hand off of her and let her die. She placed her glove back on her hands and pulled out a raven made of crystal. 

When she released it into the air, it shot into the sky like a firework, creating a beacon and an alarm. Grace pulled the woman closer to herself and held her in her arms, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” It took only a moment for the soldiers to arrive. “There is a murderer in our realms. Find them and execute them,” Grace said. 

“Yes, Princess,” they said and vapored away. Meanwhile, those who collected their dead took the woman off of her hands and she stormed to the cottage. Simon was asleep, or pretending to be whenever she came in. She ungloved her hand and walked over to him. He was the ONLY person in the area that might do something like this. It HAD to be him. She reached out, her fingertips glowing red and noticed the necklace on him was pointed at her. She picked it up in her palm and it burned her hand, but she didn’t let it go. How the hell had he gotten this past her solitude spell? See? He’s more powerful than you thought. He’s dangerous. He’s a murderer...

“Grace?” he said, sounding all innocent, looking all... feverish? She let go of the pendant and her hand stopped glowing, as well. He sat up and wondered, “Are you okay?” His hands immediately went to her bare shoulders and she wanted to be vulnerable with him. She wanted the thumbs stroking her skin to be safe for her. She wanted his hands to collect her and hold her until she didn’t feel betrayed and terrified and enraged.

“No. There was a brutal murder in the woods tonight.” She glanced around the room. His boots had tonight’s earth on them. His scent smelled of the trees and flowers. But... there was no sign of blood... “Someone from your territory slayed a winged woman.”

“You have harpies here?”

“Not a harpy. A winged woman. They are manifestations of hopes and dreams. They are signs of greatness and elevation... And someone murdered her, like she was nothing.” She fought not to cry. Simon sat up fully and pulled her into an embrace. She let him hold her. It. Felt. So. Genuine. Like her cared. “You don’t smell like blood.”

“Why would I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He scoffed and let go of her, “You think that I did this? Why would I do this, when as far as I know, I’M the only conductor here? I would be the obvious suspect, Grace.”

“You ARE the obvious suspect,” she slapped some rings onto his wrist and they bound him. “And, someone in this kingdom will be powerful enough to find out the whole truth.” A tear ran down her face at his hurt expression.

“Grace... You CAN’T think that I’m capable of this? that I would do this to you? I wasn’t even going to leave in the morning. I was going to just try to find my way back to you! I wouldn’t do something this reckless, even if I was on a hunt, you would NOT catch me! I thought... I thought we were connecting.” He. Really. Seemed. So. Hurt.

“I did too. Then I watched a symbol of hope die in my arms.”

Simon lowered his head and let out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t kill anyone if I tried. Something’s wrong with me. I’m sick. I’m sure I’m dying. I will admit, I came here with bad intentions, but I swear to you, I didn’t do this.”

“Well, my mother will be able to tell me everything that I need to trust you... or not trust you.”

“I... get to come before the queen?... Ah.” That was it then. Amelia must’ve orchestrated something to get him in that position. She always had a plan. 

Grace reached out and snatched the pendant from his neck. “Yeah. She might be one of the last things that you ever get to see.” She got up and opened the curtain. Her guards came in and carried him towards the fortress, towards the queen of the witches of the One... His target. Despite what he had been starting to believe, Grace obviously wasn’t the woman who she seemed to be... the woman that he was about to die not to hurt. She didn’t believe him. That actually hurt more than the venom in his system or the forceful rings around his wrist. I thought we were connecting... and I wasn’t going to use it against her... 

They looked at each other. All he wanted right now was for her to believe in him. To just take these cuffs off and run off with him. He could drop dead in her arms. He just wanted her to believe him! As she accompanied his escorts to the queen, they passed by wailing witches who all glared at him. Lucy was emotionless as he passed. The two of them stared at each other and she... didn’t even seem angry or upset with him. She looked like she felt bad for him... or maybe for Grace, whose hand she grabbed them pulled back suddenly. Grace replaced her glove and then took Lucy’s hand again. She would need her.

[archadianskies]

[’That Which Remains’ already exists, my friends, and I’ll never do this concept greater justice so instead I shall take a slightly different route]

He is PL600 #501 743 923, designated name ‘Simon’. He was activated on the 2nd of February 2034, and reported missing on the 16th of February 2036 by one of his owners, Mr Keelan Burbank. That’s it. That’s all he remembers.

Not the fact he is a leader of Jericho, the original leader of Jericho, and one of the Jericho Four. Not the fact he was a martyr, a leader willing to sacrifice himself to save the others. Not the fact he put a gun under his chin and pulled the trigger to prevent the Deviant Hunter from discovering Jericho. No, he doesn’t remember any of that.

They tell him the bullet tore through his memory core, damaging it irreparably. Simon of the Jericho Four died on the rooftop of Stratford Tower and he is but a shell. This does not sit well with the other three, who he learns are PJ500, Josh, WR400, North, and RK200, Markus. They want Simon back, but there is nothing left of Simon to give. 

Not for the lack of trying, though, Elijah Kamski and Chloe RT600, the First, work tirelessly on him. They try and salvage his fried memory core, they take it apart with miniscule tweezers as if to save every atom and attempt to piece it back together like a delicate puzzle. They run simulations, they make prototype replacements, they spend resources worth more than Simon’s PL600 model a thousand times over. And still, he remembers nothing.

With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower like a ghost in its clean, clinical hallways. He shares his face with so many others no one spares him a second glance. It both comforts and hurts him, to be so readily ignored.

Sometimes one, or two, or all three come to visit him again and they try to tell him anecdotes, of things their Simon did in the hopes it would jog his memory. There is no memory to jog, he tells him over and over. The bullet ripped that apart.

When North visits him by herself, she holds his hands so tightly it alerts his pressure sensors. She cries, she cries a lot of tears and says a lot of I’m so fucking sorrys and I didn’t want this to happens. She tells him they promised each other that Markus always came first, even at the cost of their lives. She just didn’t think he’d pay for it so soon. He’s not sure what to say to her, to comfort her, only that if Simon did promise such things to her then she should feel proud that he upheld the promise because Markus is here, Markus is safe. 

When Josh visits him by himself, he sits with Simon on the floor in the corner of the room designated to him. Josh tells him this is how they spent so many nights in Jericho, when Jericho was a rotting freighter in the canal and Markus had not crashed into their lives yet. He would sit in the corner with Simon and keep him warm because of his broken thermal regulator. Josh’s hands are warm when he holds his hands and Simon thinks the original Simon was incredibly lucky to have such a friend on cold, seemingly endless nights.

When Markus visits him by himself, he gives Simon a sketchbook. 

“I tried to draw as many as I could remember.” The android explains, as Simon slowly turns the pages. They are memories, Markus’ memories, but Simon is in them. “Chloe said we shouldn’t interface, we shouldn’t force our memories onto you so I thought this would be the next best thing.”

He is holding a sketchbook of original Manfred drawings. From his research he knows Markus Manfred (yes, a human surname given by his human father) is both seen as the spokesperson of their kind, and a prolific artist famous for his works about the revolution. This sketchbook alone is probably worth more than his PL600 body.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” He says, because it is a gift and sadly not the tool Markus wishes it were. “You’re very kind. I’m... I’m sorry for your loss.”

A look of grief washes over Markus’ handsome face, and he pulls Simon into his arms briefly, embracing him tightly before he steps back and walks away.

He wonders if the original Simon haunts that rotting freighter now at the bottom of the canal. Does he wander up and down its corridoors, does he roam with the other lost souls that died during the raid he never lived to see? Or is he up on Stratford Tower, pacing that rooftop, waiting for his friends to return, to rescue him, only to have to kill himself over and over and over, stuck in an endless cycle with no one to break it?

It is a kindess he died, he thinks.

*~*~*

CyberLife Tower has only been under the control of the Kamskis (yes, Chloe has a human surname given by her human creator, though perhaps she took it without it being given?) for less than a month. Elijah Kamski became interim CEO after Hudson Davenport stepped down, wishing to wash his hands clean of the deviancy ‘mishap’ as he called it. Elijah in turn appointed Chloe Kamksi as the CEO once the Sentient Life Act passed, stepping down to remain Chief Technical Officer by her side. 

It means they are still trying to catch up after more than a decade’s absence from this place. It means they do not know everything, they do not know everywhere and there are still discoveries being made day to day.  With nothing else to do between tests, he roams CyberLife Tower and because he is a ghost, no one sees him.

He is a ghost with cutting edge technology in his head now, and an upgraded core capable of processing data faster than his obsolete predecessor could even hope to process. And so he finds rooms that don’t exist, much the same way he doesn’t exist, not really, because Simon is dead and he is but a shadow of him. 

He finds an entire floor deep underground that doesn’t exist on any blueprint, any elevator route, anyone’s knowledge. When he finds things like this, he is supposed to notify the Kamskis immediately, but this one thing he wants to keep to himself at least for now. Just for a little while.

It’s a self contained lab complete with its own power source, its own network, its own servers; a completely isolated floor unbeknowst to everyone above. It smells sharp, like disinfectant and spilled thirium and gunpowder residue. There is a fabricator and assembly arms and they were building androids down here, that weren’t meant to be built by everyone above.

There is a single android standing on the assembly dias, inactive. It looks like the Deviant Hunter- like Detective Connor Anderson, he should say, because the Deviant Hunter became a deviant and a son. This one is wearing a white and black uniform, the model number RK900 emblazoned on its jacket in glowing neon.

The android no one knows about. The android haunting this level, unable to wake fully and control his actions. It must be lonely down here, abandoned and without purpose. Simon thinks they must be alike this way. It’s been so lonely, not having any friends who don’t treat him like the walking dead. Perhaps he can befriend this one instead. Perhaps they will haunt CyberLife Tower together, ghosts of what could have been. 

 Reaching out, he cups his palm to the android’s cheek.

“Wake up.” He whispers, and the RK900 opens his cold grey eyes. 

[bobby-hockey]

THE HOCKEY PROJECT: A Catalog

Truly, the number of hockey boys I write is absurd. Under the cut you’ll find a description of all the ‘arcs’--or mini-WIPs--within the Hockey Project. (If you see this reblogged, it means there’s been an update, and there are more hockey boys. Feel free to ask to be tagged for a specific arc, or for all of them.) 

1984 The year? 1984. The Winter Olympics? Underway. Jolene Pattison? America’s best goalie.

405 face-off Avery Hope plays for the Seattle Thunderbirds at one end of the I-405. Nick Jagers plays for the Everett Silvertips at the other. A love song for the greater Seattle region.

bar down Jason has been half in love with Conrad, his liney, since they were kids. It's fine.

beaut Dylan Beaubouee gets hit and, for the first time in his life, doesn't immediately get back up. Hundreds of miles away, his ex d-partner Simon Sarkarian overdoses. Together, they recover.

birdcage Quintino Raineri doesn't belong here. In a single night the NHL team he had been drafted to was reduced to only a handful of players, and Quin went from being Harvard's goalie to playing for an honest to god NHL team. One of his fellow NCAA-turned-NHL athletes, Jesse Kovaks, former captain of the Michigan State Spartans, gets it. Like fish out of water, they become friends.

blue line pinch River Dawson, a solid but troubled defenseman, ends up in hotter water than he expects. Three weeks, a phone call, and a plane ride later he's in Port Sterling with a baby on his hip. But there's one person he didn't account for—his new defense partner, who takes no shit and no prisoners.

bottle rocket Toby McCallum is the only girl McCallum. The only girl on her hockey team. The only girl allowed in the boys' changing room—well, not anymore, since rink management pitched a fit about there being a girl in the boys' room, and now Toby has to use the girls' locker room. Enter Stacy Watanabe, a figure skater whose team practices at the same time the hockey team does.

dangle & deke Zach Reddall, as the Port Sterling Skimmers' play-by-play announcer, isn't supposed to hate any of the Skimmers, but fuck if Bradford Chandler, every single frat boy distilled into a single terrible human being, doesn't get on his nerves. A story about growth, potential, and learning to unlearn.

dump and chase They met at hockey camp years ago, back when Jack McCallum was a nobody from a small town in Oregon and Phillip DeCoteau was a rising star from Toronto. Now, they face each other as equals on the ice, and both face the things they've never talked about.

five for fighting Karel Krejčí gets divorced, moves halfway across the country, sleeps around, plays hockey, gets hurt, starts fights, gets hurt more, and falls in love.

gloves off  After the bus crash that irrevocably changes the Washington Capitals, everything is different. Mally and Tamps adjust. 

gongshow Sasha Molchalin tells him that in three months he'll die, which is the weirdest chirp Clarence Taylor has possibly ever heard. Three months later, the team bus gets hit by a semi. Clarence Taylor is dead for three minutes, and then he's comatose, and then he's spiritually linked to his fucking rival, which is like. That's great. Like his day couldn't get any worse.

lighting the lamp What happens when problematic coaching practices are systematic, not incidental? And what happens to the kids who've moved on? For Kirby and Nordy, signing to a Port Sterling Skimmers team in turmoil after the toxic nature of the University of Michigan's men's hockey program was exposed almost feels like escape--almost. But unlearning the things the University of Michigan taught them is a longer and harder battle than anyone anticipates, and the journey has only just begun.

odd man rush At the end of his Calder-worthy rookie season, breakout forward Jeremy Fitzpatrick gets traded from the struggling Vancouver Canucks to the hopeless Port Sterling Skimmers, bringing with him versatility, high scoring capability, and something that could divide the hockey world straight down the middle.

save selection Johnathan Dickinson is better known for his Tumblr blog than for his goaltending, which is how he likes it. He doesn't need to be good at goaltending to be good at goalie analysis, and analysis--and GIFs of goalies losing their shit--is what his blog is known for. But then the Flyers backup gets sent down, Johnny gets pulled up, and he has to learn how to cover for himself--and fast.

scramble At 5′5″, Mitty is the shortest player in the NHL. At 6′10″, Marty is the tallest. They are teammates, best friends, and partners in crime. 

sharpshooter Dallas Lee falls in love hard and fast and easy, and falling in love with Selby Montague is no different. But then there's the problem of Reese Holowinski, and also the fact that they're all teammates.

splitting the d Patty-and-Dunks, defensemen for the Seattle Thunderbirds, are inseparable--or, at least, that's what everyone thinks. Truthfully, they've been split before, and they'll be split again, but they'll find their way home to each other--somehow they always do.

stay in the crease Bryan Weaver doesn't go into the season expecting anything different from his rookie backup, especially since he managed to run off the last three. If he functionally adopts the kid, it's nobody's business but his own.

tape to tape What happens at Junior Worlds should stay at Junior Worlds. Right? Unfortunately, that's not the case for Finland native Tahvo Kyllonen—the year after the Junior Worlds tournament where he developed the world's most poorly timed crush on American Chase Atkins, they both end up playing for the Columbus Blue Jackets, and—even better—playing on the same goddamn line. Now if Chase would stop smiling at Tahvo like that, that would be fantastic.

tic-tac-toe Carson “Kitty” Kittka is a sweet rookie in the brutal world of professional hockey. Elias Koskela, captain of the Port Sterling Skimmers, is a little worried. Just a little bit. 

top shelf Everyone keeps saying the starting goalie for the Flames, Andrej Novik, is a nice guy, but Matthew Klatzky, his backup, doesn't see it. Like, really doesn't see it.

[bluephoenixdruidicprincess]

Shadowhunters 3x20, City of Glass -- Review

Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m super late on this. Really, I’ve been really bad for all of 3B on doing these in a timely manner but can you really blame me? 3B sucks. It’s easily the worst season of Shadowhunters. While previous seasons of Shadowhunters have never been shining examples of great story-telling but at least things were happening and I didn’t hate the main characters.

As always, this is a critical review of Shadowhunters. I’m not a fan of this show, have never pretended to be. If you stan this show, that’s perfectly fine, we like what we like. I’m not going to stop you from reading this (I can’t, really) but I will caution you against it. These are my opinions. They may be unpopular. There will also be spoilers for the episode and possibly for the books. Read at your own risk.

So there were a couple of moments in this episode I didn’t hate. It’s still a bad episode of TV but there were moments where it engaged in some more ridiculous bits that made me remember why I decided to keep with the show. The show can be so ridiculous it’s funny and that’s what I enjoy about this show. If this show would learn to not take itself so seriously while being ridiculous, this would actually be a pretty fun show.  But ultimately, this episode does this thing where it executes things in the most non-epic way possible and it’s just really boring to watch for the most part.

The Dark!Clary I Never Wanted

So we got dark!Clary which was ultimately pretty boring. Most of the things she was just doing were cliché things and being evil just for the sake of being evil. Dark!Clary is really only here for the purpose of shock value and it’s not actually meant to develop her character in any way. The show tries to retcon their bad story-telling in that regard but they’re a couple of seasons too late trying to build up that Clary chose to let the mark take over because she wanted a family so badly and she couldn’t tell that her family was the friends she made. Considering Jocelyn has barely had a mention since her death and it’s never been noted that Clary feels alone with little to no family left, I have to call bull shit on that, writers. It would’ve been a nice character arc if it was developed but the way they tried to execute it in this episode is lazy and indicative once again that they never want Clary to be seen as anything less than this ideal and perfect creature of pure light (and as I’ve said time and time again, Clary is not a character meant to be portrayed that way, there is darkness in her and Clary would be such a fascinating character if the show would just let her be the flawed, selfish, self-centered creature she really is).

But it is a nice sentiment that the people who love Clary band together to try and save her although how that all happened was really just non-epic. Clary and Izzy twirl swords and kindjals around for a little bit and Clary brags about how she’s grown to be a better fighter than Izzy and I fail to see what’s new about that. Clary Sue has always been ridiculously over-skilled when it came to fighting, anyway. It’s hardly news that of course she would surpass Izzy because the narrative demands that she does. Like I said, it’s a nice sentiment that everyone is showing up to try and help free Clary but ultimately it’s kind of pointless for them to be there since none of them are able to break her free from the influence of the mark. Only when Jace stabs her in the shoulder severing the link is when Clary breaks free. From a character development standpoint, having everyone there is really just pointless. They’re not really doing anything impactful. And I just wish we had gotten more of a high-stakes approach to stabbing Clary with that sword. A very similar scene occurs in Book 5, City of Lost Souls when Jace is the one in Clary’s position and Clary is faced with the conflict of Jace being controlled by Jonathon. She spends most of the book unable to let him go and is obsessed with trying to save him and refuses to acknowledge that she may not be able to break Jace free and refuses to even consider killing Jace. But by the end of the book, she’s faced with the consequences of letting Jace run around under Jonathon’s control and how it’s now having very serious repercussions on the world. She’s armed with Glorious but she has no idea if Glorious will kill him if she stabs him but she ultimately decides to take that risk because she realizes that the real Jace buried underneath that control wouldn’t want to live the rest of his life being controlled like this and helping to destroy a world he vowed to protect. So she stabs him. In the show, we don’t really get any mention of the consequence of stabbing Clary with Glorious. Even just a scene where Jace has a conversation with Alec about how he he’s afraid to do this to Clary would’ve been enough to give some stakes to this situation but alas, Shadowhunters and high stakes with consequences? Please. But Glorious gets rid of the mark and Jonathon for some reason, grows wings. Yeah, I don’t get it, either. Because we just need to further demonize him, I guess? Subtlety, the show’s achilles heel. And the Morgenstern sword conveniently can open rifts to and from the hell dimensions. But honestly, at this point, I really didn’t expect anything better from Shadowhunters. This show has always been super ridiculous and convenient with the abilities of its historical relics. But it does beg the question. Jonathon is only ripping holes in the dimension because Clary reverted back to her original self. So provided Clary hadn’t changed back, what on earth was their plan? What was their endgame? How can we go an entire season without the villain actually having a villainous plan?

Glorious also explodes and shrapnel gets embedded in Izzy’s back while she’s trying to protect Simon so of course, cue the obligatory Sizzy scene.

Malec Gets Back Together

I think I said in the previous episode that surely Magnus couldn’t be so stupid as to not even consider that Alec breaking up with him and Asmodeus’s presence isn’t a coincidence. Well, I was wrong. Magnus really is that stupid. And even worse, it takes Maryse pointing it out to him before he figures it out so this kind of implies that without Maryse, he was never going to figure it out. And this show also does this really irritating thing where no conversation can occur between two people without a third person prompting it. Simon can only make a move on Izzy because his sister tells him to. Magnus can only talk to Alec about this break-up because of Maryse opening his eyes.

But by the end of the episode, Malec gets back together and having learned absolutely nothing from their conflicts this season. They just pick up right where they left off. Magnus doesn’t acknowledge how his actions while being without his magic made Alec feel like crap. Well, Alec does learn that Magnus can’t function without his magic and that he’ll always be second-place when it comes to Magnus’s magic but guys, it’s all okay because Magnus has his magic back so there’s no point in talking about that anymore. Explain to me why it’s a good idea for these two to get married when they can’t go through a single conflict without ever actually dealing with it? I really hate drama for the sake of drama and it doesn’t lead to character growth. But that’s Shadowhunters for you. These writers are above character growth, after all.

And Magnus banishes Asmodeus back to Edom with his WonderWoman powers, so aside from the fact that I don’t understand how he could overpower a prince of hell, it was a cool special effect, so I’ll give the show that.

More Bullshit With Maia

So after choosing to be with Jordan (a very poor choice to begin with but whatever) Jordan eventually dies. How messed up is that? Jordan asks to continue their relationship knowing he didn’t have much time left. Who does that? Oh right, an abuser who doesn’t respect their partner does that. And Maia gets through this by claiming she’s an alpha. Which you know, I would be living for except she’s done absolutely nothing to prove that she’s worthy of the alpha position. She’s had moments when she questions leadership but she’s never once done anything that shows she would make a good leader which is why it was so important for her character arc that she have that fight with the alpha but instead the writers chose to just kill off the entire pack? So while I’m all for Maia calling herself an alpha, it’s also something that leaves me feeling empty because Maia hasn’t proven herself at all yet to be a capable leader. But then again, she’s learned her leadership capabilities from Luke, so that’s already setting the bar pretty low (Luke was a terrible alpha, there, I said it).

City of Glass

So that epic scene in the third book where demons attacking Idris is finally here. And I don’t hate aspects of these moments. Finally, we get something with actual consequences and stakes. And for once, our “heroes” are faced with a conflict that they don’t know if they can overcome. This is also when the ridiculous parts of the episode starts coming in. I could not take those cannons seriously and I loved it. I missed being able to laugh at this show.

But in these moments is also where it’s shown that our “heroes” are just kind of the worst. We have dragons attacking in every direction in Alicante, people are being slaughtered left and right, and all our heroes can do as this is happening all around them is to give grand sweeping love proclamations. Entirely too much time is spent on Helen and Aline expecting they were totally not making out (even though we all know they were and I don’t even know why I’m supposed to care, these characters are barely characters). Your city is on fire, I think you have bigger issues. Then we have Clace exchanging cheesy lines in the middle of everything on fire. And Malec makes up and also proposes to each other while everything is burning. Sheesh, priorities people. But the episode leaves off with Magnus travelling to Edom to close the rift because he conveniently has the power to do that.

And just as a sidenote, I didn’t particularly enjoy Magnus’s entrance in the City of Glass fight. It just really devalued Izzy and Alec taking their stand. At least let them get a few kills in before Magnus saves them. Alec makes this grand sweeping statement about them being Lightwoods and that they can handle this and then Magnus swoops in and saves the day and it’s just like, “why?” They were having a moment. I was looking for some epic Lightwood sibling bad-assery but, nope. Shadowhunters has no concept on how to execute an epic scene, I have no idea on why I possibly thought they would.

There were a couple of fun ridiculous moments that I enjoyed in this episode but ultimately, we just got more of the same bland writing we’ve been getting throughout season 3 and I am so glad this showis about to end. Character development continues to be something of a myth on this show. This show gets a C. Just kinda average, I guess.  

But on to the final two episodes. I cannot tell you how anxious I am to finally be done with this show. Season 1 and 2A was fun and trashy but now this show is just dull and empty. It’s for the best it was cancelled and I can only hope it’ll fade away into internet obscurity.