#also there’s a dead horse and a woman who was inside it

[hauntingsofhouses]

We all already know Mizu and Akemi are narrative foils. But you know what? Lemme just say it, here's what I think:

Taigen and Mikio are foils.

Not necessarily to each other as individuals in the way that Mizu and Akemi juxtapose each other, but mostly in the contrast between their relationships with Mizu.

I've covered specific parallels between Taigen and Mikio in other posts I wrote; but as the number of parallels I'm noticing between them keeps piling up, I'm compelled to just compile them all in one post. So! This is, thus, the post in question.

First of all, let's look at their similarities.

1. Their status in society is the same. They are both samurai who lost their honour and have dreams of reclaiming it.

2. They are also both diligent as they strive to achieve this goal, they both care deeply about their work, but here as they begin to contrast, as the work in question and way they go about their goals is different:

For Mikio, his work is in taming and rearing horses; in order to prove himself, he must tame Kai—a willful and strong horse—and present it to his lord. For Taigen, his work is in sword fighting and martial arts; in order to prove himself, he must kill Mizu—a willful and strong swordsman—and present her dead body to his lord.

In the parallel above, not only are Taigen and Mikio contrasting each other, but Mizu and Kai are placed in comparison as well. And of course, Kai is Mizu's horse, and represents her. Which is why, when later, Mikio sells Kai off, it represents the way he is tossing Mizu (and their relationship) aside.

From there, the rest of the details of their character begin to contrast and juxtapose each other more clearly. So let's look at those differences, shall we?

Their backstory:

Mikio was a great samurai who was banished. A somebody to a nobody. Taigen was a fisherman’s son who rose to the top. A nobody to a somebody.

2. The first time we meet them on-screen:

Mikio is an adult. An older man. Mizu's superior in age. He is Mizu's to-be husband. A love interest. Taigen is a child. A young boy. Mizu's peer in age. He is Mizu's bully. An antagonist.

3. Their maturity and growth:

Mikio is mature, but stuck in his ways. Taigen is immature, but capable of changing and learning.

4. Their overall attitude:

Mikio is generally relaxed, easy-going and unfussy. Taigen is uptight, irritable and severe.

5. How they talk to and conduct themselves around Mizu:

Mikio is aloof, soft-spoken, and serious. Taigen is obnoxious, brash, and sarcastic. Mikio is quiet, speaking only when spoken to, even when Mizu turns to smile at him and shows openness to be near him. Taigen is loud, talking while others are silent, even when Mizu turns from him and shows no interest in conversing with him.

Mikio doesn't show much of who he is to Mizu throughout their marriage, despite their growing affection. Taigen openly shares his traumas and life story to Mizu during their brief alliance, despite their mutual antagonism.

6. Their external vs internal selves:

Mikio is calm, gentle, and considerate on the outside. Taigen is hot-headed, rude, and selfish on the outside. Mikio is cowardly and deceitful on the inside. Taigen is brave and loyal to a fault on the inside. Mikio tells Mizu that he wants to know and see all of her. But he scorns and betrays her, the woman he loves. Taigen tells Mizu that he wants to duel and kill him. But he endures torture to not betray him, the man he hates.

9. Their hair, a symbol of their honour:

Mikio's topknot is untied by Mizu during their spar. This humiliation occurs in private, the two of them alone in a rural location where no one can see them. Taigen's topknot is cut off by Mizu during their duel. This humiliation occurs in public, the two of them being watched by many others in the Shindo Dojo.

10. Their power dynamic with Mizu:

Mikio believes he is Mizu's mentor. He teaches her to throw knives, how to ride and care for horses, and about the tactical benefits of using a naginata. Taigen believes he is Mizu's equal. He views Mizu as a samurai like himself who received all the same teachings he did, and who possesses the same values.

11. Their perceptions of Mizu:

Mikio sees Mizu's feminine side first. He sees her as sweet and gentle, but also clumsy and incompetent. Taigen sees Mizu's masculine side first. He sees her as terrifying and deadly, but also strong and skilled.

12. The way they approach sparring with Mizu:

Mikio only spars with Mizu once. As the fight progresses and she is beating him, he tries to put a stop to it. When she teases/provokes him, he starts taking the fight personally and seriously, finding no enjoyment in it. Taigen spars and brawls with Mizu all the time. No matter how many times Mizu beats him, he doesn't back down. When Mizu challenges him with a chopstick, he is eager to compete with her and gladly rises up to the challenge.

Mikio and Mizu's one and only spar is a friendly match; Mizu is smiling and having fun while he grows increasingly frustrated. Taigen and Mizu's last-seen spar is a playful wrestling match; both him and Mizu are having fun and laughing.

Mikio cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, so he scorns her and walks off, avoiding her thereafter. When Taigen cannot deal with Mizu being better than him, he follows her to observe her moves and continues training in hopes to eventually beat her. After being bested by Mizu once, Mikio leaves her and sells the horse he'd previously gifted to her. After many times losing to Mizu and fighting alongside her, Taigen commends her and admits she is better than him.

13. When Mizu pins them down in a friendly spar:

Mikio sees Mizu's whole face objectively. Taigen stares at Mizu's mouth and eyes.

Mikio gets angry when she kisses him, throwing her off of him and snapping at her, calling her a monster. Taigen gets aroused, apologising, so she pulls herself off of him.

14. Mizu's blue meteorite sword is a reflection of her soul. She believes most are undeserving to face it, let alone hold it. And on that note:

Mikio is the first person (chronologically) that Mizu fights against using her sword. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) that Mizu fights against with her sword. Mikio is the first person (chronologically) to ever hold her sword, as she passes it to him, letting him wield it. Taigen is the first person (we see on-screen) to ever hold her sword, as she passes out, and he picks it up and carries it for her.

15. Then, last but not least, in Fowler's fortress, when she is drugged and in pain, she hears Ringo's voice in the dungeon. She then follows it to an open cell:

Mizu first sees Mikio as a hallucination, the sight of him haunting her and causing her to lose her grip on reality. Her eyes glow a surreal blue to represent this. Her Mama appears then and says Mizu's name accusingly.

Mizu then sees Taigen, but he is real, the sight of him a relief and grounding her back to reality. Her eyes return to their normal blue colour to represent this. Taigen looks at Mizu weakly and says her name softly.

Then, later, when facing Fowler, her revenge awaiting her, she instead chooses to follow her conscience (represented by Ringo's voice in her mind), putting aside her vengeance for a time, in order to save Taigen.

So that's basically all the ones I've noticed so far, but even then, I feel there's already so much that forms a contrast between these two.

What makes it especially incredible about these juxtapositions is that Mikio was Mizu's husband, the man she had fallen in love with, the one person she had ever been intimate with, the man who made her begin to accept herself, to put down her desire for vengeance and instead live a life of peace and happiness.

So for Taigen to have so many parallels with him... Do you see what I'm saying here!

Not to mention that Mizu clearly already has some burgeoning attraction to him, as indicated by how she thinks of him when asked about her desires. And Taigen clearly has shown interest as well (see: him getting a boner after their spar, him holding her hand and telling her, "We're not done yet.").

And on the topic of speculating future possibilities of this relationship, this post by @stromblessed has pointed out yet another parallel between Taigen and Mikio:

Mizu promises Taigen to meet him for their duel in autumn. Mizu fell in love with Mikio and duelled him during autumn.

With all that said, I do believe Mizu and Taigen's relationship is definitely hurtling towards something. But whether they will actually end up together in a sustainable relationship and have a happily ever after? Well, that is a whole other story; we'll just have to wait and see.

[writers-hes]

In the Bleak Midwinter

SYNOPSIS: You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn't realize that war could change you both. (angst, abuse, canon-typical themes, death, war, MDNI, mature themes) AN: Don’t look at the comments / reblogs if you don’t want spoilers!! But please discuss what you think once you’re done reading 🤍

Toy Horses Outside the Brothel | Tommy Shelby x Reader | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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“So fucking close…” he whispers to himself, inhaling. He turns around and looks up, maybe he could conjure you right now. One last time before he died. “Oh and there’s a woman…a woman who I love and I got close. Nearly got fucking everything!” he shouts. “Oh, what the fuck. Get it done, boys,” he tells them. He kneels before the man. 

“In the bleak midwinter…” Tommy says to himself, voice raspy and tired. “In the bleak midwinter…” he whispers to himself, his body shaking. He didn’t know where he was. He just knew that he was going to get killed today. The hole on the ground is where he’ll be buried and he never got the chance to be with you. “In the bleak…in—“

He couldn’t die today. Dread fills his body. You were still at the tracks with Simon. This wasn’t a part of the plan. He was supposed to kill Simon. He was supposed to have fun while doing it while you sat, unaware with Alfie Solomons in the private room. Sweat trickles on his face, and he closes his eyes. The blood on his forehead had dried up and his heart was beating wildly in his chest. He couldn’t believe that the last thing he ever did on this fucking ground was smoke a cigarette. So close. So close…so fucking close. 

The sound of a gun going off echoes in the vast field and he finds himself inside the hole. He stays there, appalled. 

“Get out of the grave, tinker! Be on your fucking way!”

He stumbles out, unbalanced. Shock was still inside his body. He trips and lands on his face, his palms on the wet ground and he screams. So fucking close. He shakes his head, standing up and sobbing as he did so, on the way home…on the way to you. 

He pours himself a glass of Irish whisky. He’s got some ideas for the future of the company…and also, he’s planning on getting something. 

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron…

BIRMINGHAM, 1922

Tommy couldn’t believe his fucking luck. How many times does he have to wait for things to finally fucking settle? How many more years should he wait for you? He didn’t mind—how could he ever mind when it came to you? 

He couldn’t forget the relief that washed over him when Alfie called him to say that the job’s been done. He was supposed to get the locket in his office and go to the tracks but Alfie stopped him. 

“Y/N killed Simon Coventry,” Alfie said. “Shot him dead like…mush, bone, mush. Saw her checking for his heartbeat after. I told her not to cry over spilled milk,” he snickers. “Do you get it, mate? Spilled milk?”

He tells Tommy about how shaken you were after the police investigation…how you kept it to yourself until the last officer went out. You were wailing and stuttering ‘he’s dead’ over and over. Alfie told him that he will get one of his men to send the gun to his office for safekeeping. Tommy knew that he should give you some time but he couldn’t wait anymore. He knew that you sold your London mansion and lived in Birmingham now. He knew that you bought the mansion with the garden; the one where you both used to frequent in as kids. He knew that all because he had some of the Blinders guard the property from afar. He knew that all because he passed by the house to get a glimpse of you but the house was quiet, eerie, and lacked life. Polly nor Ada couldn’t get in yet. It all happened too much…too fast…in a span of years, to have Simon dead at the sound of a gun was shocking. 

It’s been a year and he couldn’t believe he waited that long to come visit you when he knows you the most. He shakes with anticipation everyday. He was looking forward to seeing you last year, to finally telling you all about his love for you. Maybe it was him who needed you more because you made your own world without him, but he couldn’t give a fuck anymore. You’ve both been apart for what felt like decades and he will burn the world if he’s apart from you for a day more. 

It was raining and he drove to your house in his black car. The mansion with a garden. How foolish you both were when you dreamed those dreams. Life was never that easy. Blood was shed, lives were taken for his ambition. It didn’t matter right now. Not in this second. The rain just gets stronger. He forgot his umbrella but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered right now. He could see your figure from the back of the house looking through the French windows of your new home. Funny, you both got what you wanted. He got the Arrow House and you had this manor but they were both so fucking lifeless. He imagined a different house. He imagined a house with kids, with you during the war. He was looking at you and frowned when he saw you leave. Should he knock at the door? Should he just go back? Did you even want to see him?

Drops of rain wet his coat and he removed his Peaky hat, tossing it away to fix his hair. He should’ve gotten an umbrella. His shoes slosh with every step and the chill eats away his bones but he will be warm soon.  

Thunder wakes the Birmingham sky and he sees you…a few metres away from him in your dress. 

“Tommy!” you called, an umbrella in your hand. You rushed towards him to give him shelter from the rain. The mud from the grass made your bare feet wet but you didn’t care. Tommy was here…he was finally here. He meets you halfway, underneath your black umbrella. He smiles, chest against yours. 

“We can’t fit,” he chuckled, a glimmer of the youth that you used to see in his eyes appearing. “Y/N,”

“Tommy,” you replied, a bashful smile on your face. “Let’s go inside,” you tell him but he holds your arm to keep you from leaving. “Tom?”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hand coming up to touch your face but he wasn’t sure. Was it alright to touch you now? “I—I,” he tries to think of words to say, every single emotion getting trapped in his throat. He coughs, shaking his head. “I miss you,”

A single tear trails down your cheek and you wipe it away. 

“Looks like the world is finally quiet,” you replied, smiling at him. “I’ve missed you too, Tom,” you chuckled, laying your head on his chest. “I’ve missed you so, so, so much,”

He nods, wrapping his arms around you. You look at him again, a small smile on your face. 

“Did you know that…that—“ he coughs. Fuck.

“Tommy?”

“I’ve always thought of ways to tell you this back in the war and I just—I guess the delays and everything and fuck, love. I’ve loved you since we played with your toy horses outside the brothel,” he breathes out. “And I’m sorry, so, so fucking sorry that it took me so long to tell you. That you had to go through all that because you thought that I didn’t love you when I did. I’ve loved you since then and I still love you now. I love you and I just hope that I’m not too late because God, Y/N. You were the one who saved me..who protected me all these years and I can’t lose you again,” he tells you, his hands cradling your face. “I thought…I thought I was going to die when Sabini’s men took me, Y/N and all I could think of was you. How were you? Were you free? You were the only one in my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I love you, Y/N. I love you so, so much,” he adds tenderly, his forehead against yours. You were smiling at him, tears streaming down your face. Tommy loves you. Tommy loves you. 

“I love you too, Tommy,” you whispered. “I’ve loved you all this time. I can’t believe we’re finally here,” you smiled at him. Tommy throws away the umbrella in your hand. He takes your chin with his fingers gently. Tommy could feel his heart beat faster and faster. He knew that if he'd kiss you now, he’d dream of your beautiful face and soft lips forever. With bated breath, he takes in your expressions, trying to look for any signs of doubt but he couldn’t see it. Is this how it’s like to kiss the face of an angel? He licks his lips and then…and then, he kisses you. He was reborn. His reincarnation was complete. Earthly lifetimes before this had nothing on the life that he will build with you. He loves you. You love him. Tommy kisses you with years of passion and tenderness in his heart. The crease on his brows melts away and your whimpering sounded like God whispering to his ear. Nevermind the rain, nevermind everything. You were here and so was he. 

-

Tommy’s been staying over at your house ever since you professed your love for each other. He’d leave in the morning to attend to some business and then come back in the afternoon, shedding layers of today’s work into your arms. 

“How are you so beautiful?” he asks in hushed tones. His finger trails down your cheek gently. “I love you,”

“Tommy,” you chuckled. “You’ve been showering me with praise.”

“I’ve been waiting all my life to say these things to you, love. I’ll make up for those lost years everyday.” 

“I love you, Tommy,” you told him, rising from your position to kiss his cheek. “I don’t think I can love anyone else as much as I love you,”

“Pol knows about us,” he whispers. “I think John and Arthur are wondering where I’m always off to because they never see me home,”

“Nothing escapes past her,” you told him. “I miss her…I still can’t believe she intercepted those letters. I don’t know…I can’t hold a grudge against her but I can’t…”

“It’s alright. I understand,” he replied. “Took me a while to get over it too because…because if she didn’t, we’d have all of this earlier,”

“Why didn’t you tell me that you loved me before?”

“I wanted to tell you before I left but I can’t make you wait for me that long. I knew I was coming back to you but what if I couldn’t?” he asked. He holds your body closer to him. The hushed tones that you spoke in made the bedroom so homey, comfortable, and nice. His chin falls on the top of your head. “Why didn’t you tell me that you loved me?”

“I didn’t want you to love me,” you told him. “I was a prostitute, Tom and I…I don’t want to love you when I can’t give you all of me,” you whispered.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. I would have done something to make sure that you wouldn’t have to do any of that.” he said. He takes your fingers into his, weaving his with yours. 

-

“Are you off to see Y/N again?” Polly asked, sipping on her tea while she watched her nephew fix his coat. Tommy patted himself down, making sure that everything was in place. 

“Of course, Pol,” he smiles. “Off to see my woman,”

“Can…can you tell her that she’s invited for Sunday’s dinner?” Polly asked, wiping her worries away by rubbing her hands. “I’ve missed her. The family misses her,”

“I’ll try to,” Tommy replied. “But don’t expect anything, Pol,”

“Of course,” she replied. Her lips pursed together. “I wanted to tell her about…how sorry I am for the things I’ve done. It should have been your decision to stay in touch and not mine, no matter how much I justify it. I—I feel as though it was my fault for putting her through all of that, Tom,”

“Thank you, Pol,” Tommy nodded. 

“What has she been up to these days?” she asked.

“Fixing her estate and her properties,” he replied. “She’s been mostly cooped inside the house,” Polly only nods to herself, unsure of what to say. Tommy leaves with a click of his tongue. 

When he arrived at your house, you were in your office, sorting through some of the documents Simon left you. You look up at him from where you were sitting with a smile and he takes that as a sign to come closer. He kisses your shoulder lightly before reading over the documents. 

“You want to rest?” he asked, voice husky. He puts his hands on your shoulders and massages you gently. 

“Thanks, Tommy,”

“Polly’s inviting you to come to Sunday’s dinner,” he says. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to nor do you have to answer now. Ada’s gonna be there along with Karl. John and the kids…Arthur and Finn. Pol and then, me,”

Tommy kisses the top of your head, watching you sort through the papers. 

“Can I…can I think about it?” you asked him. You could see how important it is to him but you couldn’t agree just because he’s Tommy. It didn’t work that way anymore. He hums, satisfied with your reply before sitting on the chair adjacent to the table. 

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked. 

“Just…some of his unsettled accounts,” you sighed. “I want them paid to avoid issues,” you told him. He takes a document and reads it over. Oh. “I want to start a foundation for children or at least, fund an orphanage and a school,” 

“Do it,” he tells you. “Simon has left a considerable amount of properties to last generations.”

“What time should I go to Arrow House for Sunday’s dinner?” you asked. Tommy halts and looks at you with a grateful smile. 

“I’ll come get you,” he says, kissing your cheek. “Thank you. I know it’s not easy,” he tells you. You only nod, if Tommy can look at you like that again, then a thousand awkward dinners don’t mean a thing. 

-

Sunday comes and you stand at the door of Arrow House with his hand on your back. He could see you fumble nervously. You almost looked shy. An amused smile graces his face. Why would you be so shy when you’ve told John off multiple times? You helped raise Finn. Ada basically considers you as a sister. You were the only person that Arthur respects. Polly thinks of you as her daughter. 

“Are you ready?” he asks, his raspy voice coating you like honey. You nod and he chuckles, opening the door to his mansion.

The Shelbys were everywhere. Ada was running after Karl and John’s kids. Arthur was laughing at something that John probably said. Polly was nowhere to be found, probably fussing in the kitchen. 

“See? It’s like you never left,” he comforts you. He knows better than to have the attention all on you so he tries to slip past everyone without being noticed. Still, your arrival was much awaited and soon enough, you were engulfed in strong arms.

“Y/N!” John greets, hugging you tighter. “Oh, everyone! Y/N’s here!” he announces and you chuckle. 

“John…” Tommy warns but before his little brother can let you go, Arthur slings an arm around your shoulder. 

“How are you, dove?” he asked. 

“I’ve been well,” you replied. Ada comes next, shooing her brothers away to have you all to herself. 

“Y/N. It’s been so long since we last saw each other. You loom as radiant as ever! I hope my idiot brother’s treating you well, hm?” she asked, pointedly looking at an amused Tommy who was leaning by the fireplace. “Seriously, how are you? Are you doing well?” she asks in a  more serious tone.

“I am,” you replied. “Sorry it took me a year to recover,” you replied. 

“We understand, Y/N. We could’ve waited longer but Tommy here couldn’t. He was so fidgety!” she chuckled. “Basically pissed on everyone for a whole year! He almost got in a brawl with Arthur. That’s how miserable Tommy was but then again, you’ve never really seen Tommy being aggressive,”

“I haven’t,” you replied. Honestly, you were so glad that Tommy kept his gang and violence from you. You’ve never seen him land a punch even though you knew that he slept beside a gun. 

“Thank you for coming, though,” Ada says. “We all missed you and we wanted to come visit you but Tommy warned us to give you time and space until you’re ready after what happened,”

“You know that I’m always happy to be here. Everything was just too much at so little time, Ada,” you replied. “I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like I didn’t want you to be with me when I moved back here. I needed room to grow and heal,”

“You don’t have to apologise, Y/N. In any case, I actually feel quite guilty for the things that I allowed myself to put you through. All of us played a part in your marriage with Simon Coventry. I just…if you’re being forced or if there’s an inkling that you don’t want to be with Tommy—“

“Ada!” you laughed lightly. It puts a smile on her face. How long has it been since you laughed like that? “I’m alright. I love Tommy and I love your family. There’s not a day that I don’t want to see him. I’m always looking forward to his visits and when he can't, I still do the same anyway.” you told her. 

“That’s great,” she smiled. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Tommy’s really lucky,”

You were so engrossed with your conversation with Ada that you didn’t see Polly approaching. It was Ada who called Polly over. Tension settles on your spine; creeping up like ice. Your throat dries and Ada coughs. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, smiling at you encouragingly before leaving. Polly walks towards you cautiously, scared that she’ll scare you. You smile at her tightly, your cheeks hurting from the control. 

“I…” you sighed, looking away. “I know that you want what is best for me but you didn’t have to intercept the letters,” you started. “I know that we didn’t know when Tommy’s coming back…or if he’s coming back and you wanted me to take the opportunity to–”

“Y/N,” she stops you, a soft hand on your crossed arms. “You don’t have to defend me. I’m so sorry for what happened and for what I did. I had no right to do what I did. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be happy…you’d–” she chokes. “I’m so sorry, my love,” she whispers, a stray tear on her face. She tries to shake it off. “I’m really sorry. I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me someday,”

“But I forgive you, Pol,” you told her. “It was hard to do so and it’s harder to repair what we lost but you can’t blame yourself for the things that Simon did. We both didn’t know,” you told her. “Thank you for apologising and…thank you for always looking out for me,”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so, so sorry,” she cried. She could feel her throat tighten and her eyes glisten. You smiled at her. Maybe this was what you needed to finally close that part in your life.

The afternoon was filled with reunions and with warmth. A regular weekend at the Shelby’s, just like when you and Tommy were younger. Oh how you’ve missed them–how you’ve missed having a family. 

-

The night was quiet at the Arrow House. Everybody left at the sight of nightfall, dimming laughter filling the halls. You and Tommy were at the drawing room in the second storey of his mansion, looking at the cars that left one by one. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, his chin on the crook of your neck. He breathes in and kisses what he could kiss. 

“You alright?” he asked, pulling you closer. 

“Very,” you told him. “Made me realise how much I missed having your family around…I miss having a family,” 

“You are a part of us, you know that, right?” he asked.

“I know,” you replied, laying closer to him. 

“You can be a part of us. A real Shelby,” he whispers. “Y/N, look at me,” he asks of you, removing his hands gently and turning your around.

“Tommy?”

“Did you know Polly told me that only love can blind a man as powerful as me?” he asked. “I realised that wasn’t the case. It was you all along, love. My love for you is secondary. You’re the one who makes me weak, who makes me blind. I love you so much. I’ll burn the world if it means that you’re safe, you’re with me, and you’re happy. Y/N, do you want to be a Shelby?” he asked. He pulls out a ring from his bolster shakily. You’ve never seen him nervous. “I’ve held onto this for so long. This was the first thing I bought when I came back from war,” he says. The gold ring with a single diamond glimmers. “I thought of getting you something else…a bigger diamond, maybe but material things don’t matter to me anymore. The only thing I can promise is my love, my loyalty. I am the only thing I can promise you. I’m quite scared because if you’ll marry me, you’ll marry a man and you will marry a curse. I can’t…I can’t go on like this anymore. I can’t go on without you anymore. It’s selfish, I know but will you marry me, Y/N?” he asked. You stood there, dumbfounded. 

“Tommy–of course, I’ll marry you,” you replied, tears streaming down your face. “I’ve loved you for so long,” you chuckled, extending your hand towards his equally shaky ones. He puts the ring on your ring finger. It has always belonged to you. “I’ll marry you right now. Oh, Tom,” you cried, kissing him feverishly. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer. Is this life even real?

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he rasps and you nod. He holds your hand with his gentle ones and sits you on the bed. He smiles at you in the dimming light of his bedroom. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. He was afraid to see you disappear if he was too loud. “So beautiful for me,” he says, tucking a stray hair and kissing the spot under your ear. You hum, fishing for the buttons of his shirt and he chuckles, forcefully removing it from himself. 

“Tom,” you whispered, unbuttoning your dress. He nods, leaning on the headboard and letting you straddle him. The softness of your skin against his was sending him over the edge but he chooses to control himself. He lets your dress and brassiere fall on your shoulders, your breasts bare to him. He angles himself, taking a nipple in his mouth and licking it softly. You whimpered, the feeling of his mouth on one of the most sensitive parts of your body was something that you never thought was going to happen. 

“Is it alright if I bite?” he asked and you nodded. “Say it. Come on, love,”

“Do whatever you want to me, Tommy,” you mewled, hands massaging your silky breasts while he sucks on your nipple.

“Fuck, love,” He groans at your response, bucking his hips unexpectedly. “The things you do to a man, Y/N. The things you do to me,” his hands travel on your sides, goosebumps appearing from the softness of his touch. Tommy cups your heat through your underwear. “Remove your dress for me,”

You nod, the cold hitting you all at once when you raised yourself from him. He watches the fabric flow so softly until you are left with nothing but your underwear. 

“Remove that too,” he says, and you nodded. “You’re so obedient, Y/N,” he praises. “May I?” he asked and you nodded, a thick finger dipping in your wetness. You both moaned at the contact before he removed it slowly. You watched as he brought his finger up to his mouth, making a show of licking you off of him. “You’re so sweet,” 

“Tommy,” you whimpered. “Don’t tease me,” 

“Alright, alright,” he replied. You remove yourself from him, laying down on the bed with your legs spread wide. He can see your pussy glisten and he curses himself, removing his pants hastily before joining you. “Spit,” he orders you, his hand waiting expectedly by your mouth. You obliged and watched him jerk himself off. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he says. 

“Tommy–”

“Please,” he begs. “I’ll do it. I’ll fucking do it,”

“I want you to make love to me, Tommy,” you whimpered. “Please show me how much you love me,” 

“Oh, love,” he groans. Tommy comes towards you, so close, so warm. His hands found your knees and he caressed your knees. “You're so beautiful, darling,” 

“Tom,” you mewled. His prying fingers found your heat. He cups your mound and then parts your folds, rubbing them up and down. He smiles at you, leaning over your figure until his nose brushes yours. 

“Hey,” he tells you. He watches you closely and he wonders why he never had the courage to tell you how much he loved you earlier. The curve of your lips, the lashes on your eyes…he wanted to memorise every part of you and commemorate it. He leans down, his mouth on your mouth, kissing you so slowly. This is love, you thought. Tommy nudges your legs wider apart, his tip pressing into your wetness. “Fuck, love,” he rasps, rutting into your more roughly.

“I need you inside me, Tom,” you breathed. He nods, aligning himself on your wet slit. He feels the anticipation run through his veins. He never would have even dreamed of this. In a slow stroke, Tommy’s cock finds its way inside easily; years of longing, passion, and pent-up emotions seeping through your pores. 

“You’re, ugh—“ he groans. Fuck. “Don’t fucking move yet. I’ll—“

“Tom—“ you mewled, grinding on his pelvis in circles. You felt full; you felt complete. 

“Love, please,” he begs. “Let me…let me savour this. Want this to last,” He feels your body relax and he sighs. Really, if he decided to move now, he’s only going to embarrass himself. He curses to himself, ashamed that he had to pull himself back a little bit. “I’m going to move, yeah?” he asked and you could only nod. Tommy leans his figure over yours, his lips landing on your nipple. He licks on it lightly as he adjusts himself. He pulls out slowly, before going back in slowly. 

You both moan in unison. Tommy continues his movements while he sucked on your nipple. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling it softly. 

“I love you, Tom,” you whimpered,feeling his cock rubbing inside. “I love you so much,”

“Mmm,” he only hums, his attention on your other nipple now. Your fingers find their way onto your clitoris and you rub circles on it while Tommy fucks you deeper. “Fuck,” he groans, breaking away from the comfort of your arms and leaning back. He removes your hand and raises one of your legs. You watched as Tommy fucks you faster, but now it was deeper and you felt more full because of your new position. “Oh, fuck,” he rasps, his thumb coming in contact with your clit.

“Tommy,” you moaned when you felt his rough thumb rubbing circles. “Fuck, I—“ 

“It’s alright, darling. I will take —good—care—of—you,” he said, thrusting harder into you to make his point. “You won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You have me…your Tommy,”

“My Tommy,” you whispered, as if it was a new concept when Tommy knew that he belonged to you from the very start. Still, hearing the words come from your mouth excites him. 

“Say it again,”

“My Tommy,” you repeated. “Fuck, Tommy,” you mewled, pinching your nipples together. 

“Fuck, you want me to fuck babies into you?” he asked, quickening his pace. 

“Yes, Tommy, please!” you whimpered. “Going to make you a daddy,”

“I’m going to make love to you everyday and cum inside your pretty pussy, yeah?” he rasps, his cock fucking your wet pussy harder. “Oh fuck,”

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, your wetness welcoming him with every thrust fills the room. You were both high, moans and grunts filling every crevice of the room. Tommy fucks you sloppier while your fingers play with your clit. 

“I’m close, ugh—Tommy,” you grunted. “Tom, Tom, Tommy,”

“Let go, love,” he whimpered. “Go on,” 

His words fuelled you and you released a high pitched moan as he felt your walls clench around him. The feeling of your pussy milking him sends him into overdrive and you feel it. You felt his warm cum coating your walls.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans, thrusting his hips into you even more to chase his orgasm. “I love you. I fucking love you,” he rasps, collapsing into you.

“I love you, Tommy,” you replied, playing with the soft tendrils of his hair. He lays there, unmoving, his softening cock still inside you. 

“Let’s stay like this forever,” he says, kissing your breast. 

“Alright,”

“Now, you’ve seen me,”

“And you’ve seen me,”

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1925

“Tom!” you shrieked, looking at the muddy footprints that stained your white carpet. Over the last few years, you both decided that it would be best to stay at your place instead of the Arrow House. You both agreed that it was too dark and too lonely. It was so unlike the lush gardens, the water fountain, and the scurrying feet of the maids in your house. Besides, Tommy liked it here better. It was brighter, happier, and his nephews and nieces loved to visit. 

“Oh no,” he hears a child say. “Oh, no, no, no,”

“Shh,” he crouches down to her height. “If we’re quiet, mum won’t see us,”

“Thomas Shelby! I told you to leave the boots outside whenever you’re out with the horses,” 

“Dad—I don’t want to get mummy mad,” she whispers. “Let’s say sorry,”

Tommy looks at his daughter with wonder in his eyes. He never knew he’d love someone else as much as he loves you.

“Alright,” he nods, bracing himself. “Come on,”

His daughter holds his hands and gets out of the hiding place. She immediately cowers behind her father when she sees the hand on your hip.

“It was dad’s fault!” you heard her say, running towards you and hugging your legs. “Daddy did it!”

You frowned at Tommy but he could see the smile that dared to crack. 

“Oh, bub. Where’s your loyalty to your old man, hmm?” he asked, a hand over his heart. “Darling, I must let you know that…” he trailed off kissing your cheek first. “Our daughter here is a natural,”

“Tommy…”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, massaging the crease between your eyebrows. “We’re sorry, right, bub?” he asked your little girl. She nodded, looking up at you. “Traitor,” Tommy whispers to himself before ruffling her hair. 

“Just don’t do it again, alright?” you asked him. 

BIRMINGHAM, 1913

“Do you think there’s a future where the two of us can be together?” Tommy asked. Upon seeing your panicked reaction, he coughs. “What I meant is…that we’ll still be like this,”

“Of course, we will,” you replied. “Only better…because by that time, we won’t have to worry about anything anymore because we’re together.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Tommy. You’re the most important person in my life. I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose you too,” you replied, looking at him, trying to look for his reaction. You looked away when you saw the ghost of a smile paint his features. He’s always been so handsome. 

“You won’t,” he replied, taking your hand to make that promise. “You won’t ever lose me,” he tells you. 

“I guess, I won’t.”

END A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long to upload this. I really am sorry. I'll be uploading a separate author's not soon. But for now, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash @sweetwanderlust05 @globetrotter28 @thebestandworstdayofjune @reggxe-a @verreuckteli @vampireluck @zoexme @liter4ti @quixscentsposts @homosexualjohnwayne @charli123456789 @Maria_elizabeth21

[rottenpumpkin13]

HAHHAHA! Nothing’s stopping me from doing it TWICE!

BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out 💕

(Bc you deserve a million of these, seriously!! But I will also send an ask to not waste your time x,D)

What are AGSZC’s YouTube search histories? >:3c

I've been wanting to tell you this for the longest time: the cable protector for my laptop charger is a Pikachu! It often kills my writer's block because I can feel its (positive) judgmental stare whenever I don't write. A+ involuntary Pichu motivation! Unfortunately I glanced at the ask this morning and completely mistook the question while I was drafting it at work

( ╥ ᴗ ╥) I unhelpfully present you:

AGSZC Google Search Histories

CLOUD:

• What to do if being stalked

• What to do if being stalked by dead man

• What to do if being stalked by dead man and mother

• Writhe meaning

• What does it mean when someone says writhe for me

• Was Sephiroth queer when he was alive

• How to talk to people without making it awkward

• Why is my memory poor

• How to tell woman I love her

• How to kill someone once and for all

• How to be a good puppet~

• HOW TO STOP MIND CONTROL IMMEDIATELY

GENESIS:

• Who would win in a fight Genesis or Sephiroth

• Genesis Rhapsodos aesthetic

• How to bully people in a goddess honoring way

• Genesis Rhapsodos video compilations

• Cowboys

• Where to rent horse

• Is Masamune heavier than Rapier

• Masamune weight

• How to fix a broken sword

• Super glue strong enough to hold sword together

• How to hide broken sword from friend

• Sephiroth sword replica for sale

• Where to buy replica of Sephiroth's sword

• How to convince a friend their sword was always broken

• Can a sword just break on its own

• Sephiroth x reader fanfiction

• Logical reasons for sword to break on its own

• Acting tips for looking surprised

• How to gaslight your friend

• How to deflect blame in conversation

• How to avoid eye contact when lying

• How to create a distraction during a confrontation

• How to flee the country

SEPHIROTH:

• Benefits of owning a cat

• Sephiroth costume

• BDSM meaning

• Name for device that extinguishes fire

• Fire extinguisher for sale

• Haunted by the faces of people long gone what do I do

• How to stop sitting on my hair

• Am I gay quiz

• Angeal Hewley shirtless

• What does it mean when you dream about being held by blue alien mother

• How to dream about blue alien mother more often

• Situations where it is appropriate to say fuck

• Can I say fuck randomly

• Where to look for items when you misplace them

• Where could I have misplaced my sword

• How to donate effectively to social causes

• Videos of people crying in regret after cutting their hair

• Can you consume a salt lamp

• DTF meaning

• Milf meaning

• Slang terms to use to sound normal

• Silly cat videos

• Why is piracy wrong

• Free movies watch online HD

• How to make protein shake taste like pasta

• Am I depressed quiz

• Spaghetti recipe

• How to put out kitchen fire

• How to remove spaghetti from ceiling

ZACK:

• Sephiroth bald

• can you die from licking batteries

• can you die from inhaling cheese puff dust

• Apple bottom jeans

• boots with the fur

• Reebok's with the straps

• Why does my husband look at other women

• Is it safe to eat pinecones

• Are moogles real

• How to befriend a moogle

• Can you die from licking hair gel

• What are the implications of string theory for quantum gravity in multidimensional spacetime

• Sephiroth x Genesis Rhapsodos fics

• How to explode things using mind

• Cool dog collar jewelry

• Cool dog collar jewelry SFW

• Sunflower tattoo

• Is it normal to kiss your friends

• How to kiss friends in a bromance way

• How to tell if I'm psychic

• Intersectional feminism

ANGEAL:

• Empanada recipe

• Where to hypothetically hide a body

• Tzatziki recipe

• Signs you're in a polycule

• Am I in a polycule how to tell

• Is it normal to plan your own funeral ahead of time

• Valid coupons printable

• Is it normal to vent to your houseplants about your problems

• Used dog cage for sale

• How to make friend realize that dreaming of blue alien mother isn't normal

• How to approach fact that friend needs therapy in conversation

• How to fix sword in case it ever breaks randomly

• Good gifts for teenagers with ADHD

• Chainsaw for sale

• Is a chainsaw a good gift

• Why am I so tired all the time

• Why is it that every time you search something online the internet makes you think you have an incurable disease

• Fun team building activities

• How to convince coworkers that trust falls are safe

• How to stop bleeding fast

• Encouraging words to calm down panicking crowd

• paramedic number

[ryuzakemo128]

The Blood Dragon

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Aelora Targaryen

Content Warning: Adult Themes. Dark Content. Targaryen Incest.

Triggers: Incest, Dubious Consent, Drama, Manipulation, Power Struggle.

Words: 1,460

Links: [Dividers] [Masterlist]

Summary: “Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

[Daemon's point of view]

Aelora looked at him, a stern look in her crimson eyes as she told her cousin to grow up, to get over his petty fears and insecurities. Her voice was like a whip crack, sharp, and stinging. It was a challenge that Daemon found thrilling and irritating all at once. He knew she was right, though. If he were going to play the Game of Thrones, he couldn't be a pawn forever.

“You can't expect to play it, if you don't know the rules, you also can't expect to be allowed to play it if you refuse to play by them.” Aelora repeated. “It’s like a game of chess, sometimes you have to sacrifice a chess piece on the board to get what you want.”

Daemon felt his jaw clench, but he couldn’t argue with her logic. He had been feeling stifled in the shadow of his brother, Viserys, for too long. The whispers in the halls of the Red Keep, the constant reminders that he was second in line for the Iron Throne and always would be, until Viserys changed his mind. His mind filled with the vile words from his hand, Otto Hightower.

He was replaced as heir to the iron throne by his niece, Rhaenyra Targaryen. Replaced by a woman half his age. He clenched his fists, rage pulsating through him, threatening to boil over. Pushed aside, dismissed, deemed unworthy by his brother and the meddling snake.

Unless something changed, something had to change, these thoughts buzzing around. They were driving him mad.

“Daemon.” Aelora whispered, snapping her fingers to get his attention, “You’re thinking too far ahead. You’re putting the cart before the horse.”

“What do you mean?” Daemon snapped, he didn’t mean to snap at her. It was just instinct, his temper wound him up so far, that he snapped at his cousin.

“Power, control and standing can come in many forms, some of those ways lie in what people already know. What if I could tell you, there is another way, a road less travelled and deemed treacherous. As they don’t understand it, nor did they ever seem to want to either.”

Aelora’s smooth voice, silk, whispered sweet nothings and dark promises into his ear, and her hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer to her.

Aelora’s words were like a key unlocking a door he hadn’t realised was there. He gazed upon the slow forming smirk on her lips, her eyes gleaming with a mischief. Both alluring and alarming. She never looked at him like that before.

What changed? What did she have in mind? When did she start smelling like lavender? Is she trying to seduce me? When did she start wearing revealing attire such as this? She is trying to seduce me, isn't she? The way she smiles, the dress, the lavender perfume wafting into his nose, a scent known to help people relax. But why? Why now? Why me?

“Are you scared of me, cousin?” she whispered into my ear, a shiver ran down my spine as she continued, “Do you not like it when I take what I want? You said you liked it, though.”

Daemon's gaze snapped to hers, a mix of surprise and anger flickering in his eyes. “What are you playing at, Aelora?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

“You wound me, cousin, suggesting that I am the one playing games? For all your intelligence, you can’t perceive the possible indication that I wanted to have amorous congress with you. Who else would write you those tiny little notes seeking comfort in the dead of night?”

Her hand traced a line-up his chest, sending a warm shiver through him. Her lips an inch away from his, “It seems you don't actually want to. So, I guess I won't. I’ll mosey my way down to Aegon and take his seed inside of me.”

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. The audacity! He grabbed her wrist, his grip firm. “You won’t go anywhere near him, do you understand?” He spat out through gritted teeth.

“What's a girl to do to get laid, Daemon?” she taunted, gripping his wrist, pulling him closer to her. Her warm breath on his cheek. “Did you expect me to go without for so long?”

Daemon felt his anger spike and his grip tightened on her wrist. “If you think for one moment I'd let you—”

“Fuck another man?” She finished for him. “Then why aren’t you doing it then? Hmm? I have offered myself to you over and over. Yet you're not looking at me. You're looking everywhere else.”

Then it dawned on him, the notes, the perfume, the dress, the long gazes in his direction, the rumours about her promiscuous ways spread around deliberately by her, it was all a facade. A cleverly crafted web of manipulation to get under his skin, to get him to react. And she had succeeded. He felt like a fool, but he also felt something else, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something primal and raw.

Here she is now. Pulling him closer to her, like a captain pulling a sailor from a shipwreck, like a siren pulling a sailor into the depth of the sea.

Daemon’s hand loosened around her wrist, his anger dissipating into something else. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, her breath tickling his skin. Aelora’s eyes searched his, looking for something, anything, to prove that she had his full attention.

“Do I have your attention now, Prince Daemon?” Aelora purred. “Would you prefer if I had walked into your bedchamber naked?”

Daemon’s breath hitched in his throat. “What game are you playing, Aelora?” He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was clear that he was rattled.

“Is it really a game if I’m trying to get what I want?” Aelora whispered, inching closer to him. “Are you scared you will not like it, or are you afraid of liking it too much?”

Daemon's mind raced with conflicting thoughts, but his body betrayed him, his heart thumping in his chest. He stepped back, trying to put some distance between them, but Aelora followed, her eyes never leaving his. She reached up and traced a finger along his jawline, sending a jolt of heat through him.

He said, “I'm not scared of anything, least of all you, Aelora.” His voice was calm, but the tremor in his chest gave him away.

“Yet you're walking away from me.” Aelora pointed out, “So you must be.”

Daemon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “I’m not walking away, I’m just—”

“Just what? Unable to handle a woman like me?” she taunted.

Daemon felt the blood rush to his face. He was not a man to be taunted, not by anyone, least of all by his own flesh and blood. He stepped closer to Aelora, his eyes blazing with a fiery determination that she had not seen before. “You think you can play me like one of your little instruments?”

“If I wanted to 'play' you, I wouldn't have been trying to get into bed with you.” Aelora snapped as she turned to leave his bedchamber.

Daemon's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. “What do you want from me, Aelora?” His voice was a mix of anger and confusion.

Her lips firmly planted on his as soon as he touched her again, which took him by surprise. Aelora’s kiss was feverish, hungry, as if she had been starving for his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, her body pressing into his with a need both undeniable, her hands exploring his body like it was a foreign country she hadn't been before.

Daemon’s resolve crumbled like the crumbling stones of Valyria, the warmth of her mouth melting his defences away. He had to admit, he enjoyed the thrill of the chase, the dance of power and seduction. But now, with Aelora in his arms, he realised he had been craving this closeness, this connection, this fire. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, as he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a dance of desire.

His hands wandered further down to her legs, gripping her firmly, as if he feared she might disappear again. Aelora's fingers worked their way through his hair, the soft strands a stark contrast to the iron grip of his hand on her wrist. Her body responded to his touch, arching into him, begging for more. He could feel the heat radiating from her, the same heat that burned in his veins.

This is going to be a long night.

He was going to enjoy it.

No matter what happened.

[precious-little-scoundrel]

|| My fellow Colonel

Y’all asked for it and here it is. Whew, I wrote all of it today so here’s to hoping it is tolerably alright. Also, as an aside, I am just shy of 1k followers and that’s astounding to me. I had to rebuild this blog from scratch in December after two previous deactivations where I lost a similar amount collected over a far longer time. I’m truly so grateful for each of you who take an interest in sharing this little corner of the internet with me. Thank you, thank you!

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply, 18+ with additional chapter warnings for gore and violent character death, brief mention of racial discrimination and a very dark headspace for Ida at times including brief yet crassly recollected sexual assault

April 1945, escape spoilers ahead

“Bitte.” Ida kept her hands placating, outstretched and harmless by her side, the most open expression on her face that she could summon as she stared the woman down, “Bitte nicht!”

For eleven days she and Smith and Cleven had managed to scrounge their way westward, evading recapture or altercation. But eating from the dead horses on the side of the road was out of the question, agricultural fields were churned to sludge by Amtrak’s and the small amount of wheat berries they found in one abandoned supply truck had long since ceased to fuel their weakening bodies.

They had passed by a camp, one that they observed from the shelter of the woods to be abandoned or liquidated, once used for civilian labor, judging by the signs. After a careful reconnaissance it was agreed that Ida should go and act on her hope that the commandant's empty dwelling may not have been completely ransacked. That there might be some leftover provisions either there, or in the homes of the other personnel. She had had no luck at the commandant’s, it had been empty, no luck in the next idyllic little shack either, only the eerie knickknacks of some bygone person whose vocation it was to deal in pure evil.

In the third house she had found jars of spoiled milk, tubers of some sort gone to sprouts but she did not care, she grabbed a ratty towel lying on the floor and made a sling for them. She was in the process of prying a loose floorboard up, anticipating some root cellar below when the whining creak of a sneaking step sounded behind her in the still place.

She whirled around in a crouch, half expecting either one of her companions or else one of the many starving children they encountered on the road. Instead, silhouetted inside the bright doorway there was a woman, in the uniform of a guard and with a Lugar poised at the ready. Ida felt a cold spike of fear at the flashing recollection of her last encounter with such a female, at the horrid misery that was Ravensbruck, the complete and entire lack of respect shown to her or her girls by these indoctrinated tools.

Ida’s grasp of German had been sufficient enough to keep herself and her companions away from suspicion in their occasional interactions with passersby. While she wore the heavy overcoat of a military man, it had no markings, and it was just as likely for some freezing civilian to steal it off a carcass as it was for an American female officer to be on the loose. Ida knew this and she tried to play at being dumb, pointing to the food, explaining in unstudied desperation that she was starving.

The female guard observed her coldly, her impassive face showing a certain lack of curiosity or even remote interest in Ida’s narrative that made her heart quicken with a presentment of a swift and sudden execution. She has seen these guards lift a gun, squeeze the trigger, and move on boredly all in the matter of a second. What about her own features or story were so compelling to prevent it?

“Bitte nicht!” She repeated again, choosing to take a step forward, eyeing the woman’s grip and posture, professional, soldierly, the woman left little opening for Ida to capitalize on, but she would rather get a bullet in the gut while fighting than be shot hunkering over stolen potatoes.

There was a darkening in the doorway, it caught Ida’s eye right before she timed her launch. It was Cleven. His appearance made her hesitate a moment too long. He had his arm barred around the guard’s throat in an instant but the pistol was out of his reach and one stride too far away from Ida’s grasp. Unlike the hapless children in the forest that had attacked them days ago, this officer had bullets. Ida felt the searing tear of its bite smart her shoulder, blurring her vision in pain before she rushed in, clasping her own hands around the pale wrist.

Cleven had the woman’s eyes rolling back with his grip, her grapple at his forearm growing feeble as her oxygen ran low. Another shot rang out, a bullet embedding in the ceiling rafters as Ida managed to wrench it away at last. She turned it on the woman and fired, only to find her luck run out again, as well as the chamber.

There was a knife in the guard's boot, both women seemed to think of it at the same instant as the guard became possessed with a final animated struggle to reach for it, desperate to break out of Cleven’s strangle. But Ida wasn’t about to watch another friend die, or miss her chance to go home, to bear witness to what her girls, her men, her brother were yet enduring, not to spare herself a fleeting moment of misplaced mercy. She dove for the boot, wrenched the knife free from its sheath and drove the blade in under the sternum, carving it upwards as she herself rose to her feet. Her wrist was fully in the chest cavity, arm covered with warm still living blood, by the time she saw the guard’s head loll impassively against Cleven’s chest, the soul finally gone dim behind the eyes.

“Sweet Jesus.” He stepped back from the corpse, letting go. Ida felt the weight of the body in her wrist as her grip on the knife was all that kept it standing. She tore the weapon free with another sickly gush, and blearily observed it crumple to the floor.

“There are spuds.” she told Cleven as she braced her hands on her knees, nodding to her abandoned sack of potatoes. The edges of her vision were blurring from the exertion, her coat sleeve was soaked to the elbow, but she had a weapon now and a dead Nazi at her feet. Both sat well with her.

The potatoes bought them another days walk, with Smith using the ratty towel to wrap Ida’s shoulder, it was only a flesh wound. That evening they had another run in, but this time it was with the friendly faces of gum chewing yanks who were welcoming with their smokes and their K rations. Poor infantry boys, they were bamboozled by the existence of a female officer, the experiment of integration having only added to the flyboys somewhat derisive glamor. But it was mostly awe, and a healthy amount of respect, that they showed for the blood smeared lady Colonel.

“That make you one of Brady’s Banshees?” one bright corporal made conversation with Ida as he allowed her a seat beside himself on the hood of a tank, it was a hitched ride into Belgium.

“She is Brady.” Smith drawled for her, enjoying far more than Ida how gobsmacked the man was to be in the presence of feminine greatness.

They were welcomed warmly everywhere by their fellow allies, ferried like heroes on any conveyance possible. Smith was their cheery intercessor, knowing her superiors were of so torn a spirit and conflicted of conscience as to be half inclined to go back to where they came from. In truth, Ida could hardly bring herself to board the last plane -an unbelievable courtesy taking them from Paris straight to Thorpe- as all she could think on were what repercussions might have been exacted on the others for their escape. And what cruelties she had left her brother to endure without her.

Cleven was not much better; Egan, Maureen, all of them still left behind. As they took their seats on the benches, felt the old nostalgic rumble of the engines, not of a Fort but of a Gooneybird, what should have been a lightening of spirits as they soared over the channel was instead a dismal camaraderie of guilt.

That fateful night when they had all agreed to escape before crossing the Danube, the organization had been infuriatingly chaotic yet the groups were chosen with emphatic pragmatism. The guards were used to watching certain persons in company with their favorite fellows. The Bradys, the Buckys, Smith and Murph, each had some comrade the Germans expected to be their partner in any subversive endeavor. With this in mind, their agreed-upon groups were intentionally fractured to confuse their captors, each hoping to meet up somewhere on the road or in the forest.

Cleven and Ida had waited only a few hundred yards in the tree line for over an hour, hoping to be joined by their fellows. In the end only Smith came, with the word that the gig was up, Egan had been detained, John Brady never even began to saunter off before they closed the perimeter. No more were coming. It took all of Smith’s vicious logic to keep the officers from going back, she had to lean on reminders of reprisals and certain death, how they could in no way alleviate the suffering of the others by rejoining them.

What they could do was carry through, escape, go back to England, spread the word, liberate.

Despite this inner turmoil, Ida felt like kissing the ground when her feet landed on East Anglian soil. Or, rather, the cement of the old familiar runway. Instead she settled for Crosby‘s cheeks, the beaming fellow being so utterly honest in his welcome that some tiny part of her melted in momentary relief at having actually made it. That hadn’t really sunk in, not until there was an English mist pelting her face and Harry’s crinkled cheeks between her hands.

“A major?!” she repeated his rank and felt prouder than his mother in that moment while Harry blushed scarlet under the affirmation.

“A-and a father.” tumbled out of his mouth as a deflection except, that subject made a great hullabaloo too, with even Cleven growing exuberant in his congratulatory shoulder slapping. “What am I doing makin’ you stand out here, get in the jeep sirs, I’ll take you to a hut, or-or the club? Or the doctor?”

Both Ida and Cleven stiffened in their swing into the jeep at the last suggestion, a brittle defensiveness tightening their smiles, “Bed and board are all we need, thanks Crosby.” Gale gave him one of those devastatingly final little nods of his.

They kept him occupied and rambling on the ride, updates on new crews, new buildings, Jeffreys, Meatball, the improvement of rations, tales of bombing Berlin, the prospect of victory within reach. By the time he’d parked outside Cleven’s old barracks, Harry knew next to nothing about their own experiences, and he felt that somehow to have been quite calculated.

“There’s still a ladies sector, Colonel,” Harry assured Ida, much to her confusion as to why there wouldn’t be, “I’ll take you and Smith there.”

The old hut was as she remembered it, same as all the others, curved metal amplifying the patter of rain and the monotonous comfort of Air Force regulated bunking. It hit then, no more wooden combines or roadside shelters. She was really back.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Smith asked, the place eerily quiet, even for midday.

“There at- there at work.” Crosby offered haltingly.

Suspecting something dreadful, or as Bucky liked to say of her instincts -sniffing out bullshit- Ida slowly turned to Crosby and gave him a stare, one she recalled having once effectively shrank the man by a few literal inches. Perhaps because it was remarkably similar to her brother’s. Harry bore up under it better now, oak leaf cluster on his breast or a hard three years adding some spine to him, she didn’t know, but still his expression wavered guiltily.

“At work?” she repeated his phrasing, “That what the kids call war these days?”

“A few, a couple, -some,” he settled on, “are on missions. We’ve been uh, we’ve been running a lot of missions. Picking up prisoners -like you guys.”

“The rest?”

“At work.”

“Where’s this work?”

“Uh, well, various posts, you know how it is-“

“-grounded?” She supplied.

“Well, yeah. Just like Douglass and me and-“

“They badly hurt? Who’re we talking about?”

“Colonel,” Harry begged her, looking mildly close to drowning on dry land and sending a wet eyed sos at Smith, “dozens of them are posted here. Grounded yes, but, in good positions, required positions-“

“Did they get corresponding promotions?” Ida hit back, “Were they grounded because they were too valuable or were they hurt? Or did they just get squirreled away in some cupboard with a typewriter?”

“Look, uh, sir,” Harry chuckled nervously, “a lot of them are on missions, some of them are at their jobs -where I should be right now. But, it’s true, uh, the brass thought that, well they weren’t sure, Ida, when we got word you’d escaped we wanted to welcome you back right and uh, we didn’t know what to expect. We’ve had a lot of reports. Some reassuring and a lot…not. Not reassuring at all. And uh, we didn’t know what to expect, they didn’t know and uh, depending on how you were, it could affect the morale. So they thought, clear the place out a little, yeah? Make sure you were -you were…”

“Didn’t wanna scare the kids.” Ida supplied, tone softened, suspecting she probably did look half witch from all her trials.

“We didn’t know what to expect.” Harry repeated, a significant amount of relief bleeding into his voice, like he was going to get choked up on her mere continued existence.

“Well I need a change of clothes, and I need a shower.” Ida smiled at him until he gave her a fastidious look while glancing at her blood stained coat and she sent him a sour glare in return, “And a nap. And then I dare say nothing about me will be cause for alarm, not even for general LeMay.”

Harry was back to chuckling nervously as he walked his way backwards out the hut. “Of course, yeah, uh, we tried to supply uniforms, laid them out -best we could scrounge, for now.”

“Thanks Croz.” Smith offered, trying to soften the ending of this interaction.

“Before you go,” Ida stalled him, “tell me a little about the new ones? Who should I know? What should I know? Hate to wake up in here and have to start making acquaintances from scratch.”

“Colonel,” Harry answered her in the most mournful voice, “there aren’t any new ones.”

That old whiff of cold dread was back. “Crosby.”

“They uh, after you went down, colonel they, they scrapped the program.”

“You cannot be-“ Ida rubbed at her throat, trying to get it to open up, wondering what the hell it must be like to be Gale Cleven and get to come back to Thorpe Abotts and nothing be different, get to be home and get to find everything where it should be because your own higher ups aren’t fighting against you right along with the bastards with the flak and the barbed wire and the endless taunts about women being made for breeding. “Crosby what do you mean scrapped? They shut it down?” she wished she sounded angry, but she knew it was a cry, and to his credit he looked ready to cry for her.

“Colonel I’m so sorry, the reports were so alarming and the-“ he shook his head, “-they grounded all female servicemen right after. Cut the program, if it wasn’t for Kidd they might’ve sent them all back, discharged or moved to the WASPS. Well, they stayed, but, it’s not- it’s not what it was, colonel.”

Ida bit her lip, that old throbbing pain from the old injury of her cheek bloomed again, it felt like arriving at the stalag in one too many ways. “Y-you said something about, you said some were up on missions.” She wracked her brain for it and found it, that one bit of hope and she clung to it like a woman drowning.

“Yeah!” Crosby was over eager to soothe the pain with the modicum of good news he had, “They are! Rosenthal he uh, he’s over the squadrons now and uh, he’s seen to it they are allowed up. Mostly uh, mercy runs or behind allied lines, they don’t want anyone captured but, they’re up. They’re getting their thirty missions. They’ve uh, they’ve changed the number, since you were here.”

“Thirty.” she repeated numbly.

Harry’s footsteps had long ago receded along the gravel outside by the time Ida allowed herself enough movement to sink atop the pristinely made bed in her filthy clothes and just stare at the opposite bunk of equally pristine sheets and all of it so pristine and so rigorous and so proud and so pristine and so-

The echo of her own scream startled her, banging off the tin walls and circling back to her. Ida felt more than saw the implacable Tallulah Smith jump in fright beside her, but that level headed woman knew better than to soothe her officer. Not after what they’d just learned. She bit her tongue and busied herself sorting amongst the clothes and provisions for towels, combs, soap, toothbrushes. Ida watched this rich display of care on the part of their fellows with a snarl bending her lip, she could taste salt and knew she was also crying and all that she could hear amongst the cacophony in her head was a desperate wail -she didn’t want combs and towels, she wanted her squadron back.

Some aspect of this heartbroken petulance must’ve shown on her face as Smith extended both a comb and towel to her with forceful kindness, “LeMay didn’t lay these out.” was all she commented. “Think of it as Harry’s hospitality. You look a mess, and won’t get any respect for it.”

Smith had some vantage point from which to speak, Ida knew. Native American with bronzed skin just shy of being segregated twice over, getting screwed over was something Smith had made into an art form of cat and mouse. Ida had long admiringly observed it; she never thought she’d need to adopt a similar posture to this degree. Not when she felt like grabbing at the knife still in her trench coat pocket and making a charming scene and all it would get her was confirmation of the reports.

Whatever those were. Alarming reports, apparently. It was so very upper brass of them all to find the enemy’s methods unfortunate and so shoot themselves in the foot like it evened things out.

“I’ll be along in a minute.” Ida insisted to Smith from her bunk, refusing more than the towel and comb.

They’d all been through hell for daring to be combatants. But Ida, at this news of her loss, was beginning to recall particular parts of her own hell she had not dwelt on since they occurred.

Colonel -the way each had called her that, sneering at the mere concept of a colonel with a cunt, an officer so easily breached, a leader made by her Creator to be bent over and taken. She’d had a squadron then, and no amount of scorn or cruelty could take that from her; no, only her friends could take that away.

And they had.

Robert Rosenthal was giving himself a little pump up speech as he stalled outside with his hand on the door knob, knowing he needed to knock first and that knocking would buy him a little more time to ready himself, and so he really should go ahead and knock. The pattering drizzle on his hat brim should have been human incentive enough to get inside already, if duty and honor and admiration weren’t quite cutting it today. But he stalled, even went so far as to cast an indefensibly juvenile and furtive glance over his shoulder at the shrinking form of the accommodating lady who’d passed him on his march here. A Lieutenant Smith, who had told him she was glad to be back and that her famed superior was still inside-

“Angry as God after catching the Israelites worshiping cows at Mount Carmel.”

Rosenthal knew Ida Brady had every reason to be utterly furious, hell -he was furious for her, with her, about her. And he had no right to stand there and wish she wouldn’t take it out on him, to defend himself with shitty excuses like the fact a few of the girls got to see the top of clouds because he had put his shiny and promoted boot down and asked for it. He wasn’t exactly the problem, perhaps, but he was, by sheer implication of it being men like him unable to require better treatment, at fault. And so, Rosie stood in the drizzle and gave himself one last minute to think about Colonel Ida Brady as she had been the last time he’d seen her, terrifyingly formidable and utterly kind.

“It’s no worse than your dread of it, I swear.” she had told him and Nash that night before their first time up, “I was relieved to have seen it.”

What had she seen since? He stared at the little leather binder in his hand and scoffed at the administrative mission that carried him here. To hell with it. He knocked, he waited, he knocked once more, and he went in.

The stipple of rain on the roof of an empty Nissen hut was a calming background noise he himself savored whenever possible. Despite their bare aesthetic and extreme practicality, there was a serenity to them as well, and on spotting a seated figure a few bunks down from the entrance, he felt a pang of empathy for the desire to just decompress.

She looked up at the sound of his footfalls, not startled in the least. Not angry. In fact, she looked utterly dazed, like the men he’d helped out of their forts after a bad run of it. A face he’d seen in the mirror once or twice or a couple dozen. There was a docile listlessness in her gaze that he knew better than to be comforted by, despite the selfish feeling of relief at not immediately being eviscerated about her squadron. She was gaunt, understandably so, her strong jaw so pronounced he could cut his thumb on it, the pallor of her skin jarred unsettlingly with her dark brows, set off in stark relief by her tangled, jet black hair. Her overcoat was half muddy brown, half doleful rust. There was a bloody story there, a recent one, not washed away by a hard rain or bath. Rosenthal didn’t have any doubt how that struggle had ended for her assailant: she was here, wasn’t she?

He’d never seen anything more magnificent in all his life than this battered figure sat on a pristine cot with dawning recognition in her eyes.

“Welcome back, Colonel!” he ventured, keeping his tone soft as befitted the setting, yet unable to keep the creeping happiness at her return from showing in his voice.

“Mm, yes. Rosenthal.” Ida was straightening automatically, rising from her seat, shrugging off her clumsy overcoat and standing near to attention at sight of the brass on his lapel, “I remember you. A Colonel now, I see. Well done.”

Rosie felt his cheeks burn, another juvenile thing, her hand extended itself to his surprise and he clasped it warmly, maybe a little too firmly. “Well that’s kind of you, Ma’am. Very kind. Welcome back, Colonel.”

“You’ve said that already.”

“Apologies.” he stumbled, releasing her hand in hopes of regaining his thoughts. She didn’t look angry yet, she looked wary, “Just glad to have you back. There was…a lotta concern.”

“It was touch and go but -here I am.”

“Right.” There was silence after that, it was so thick that the quirk of his kind lips and the gleam of his eager eyes slowly dimmed and fell as no small talk resumed. “Uh, colonel,” he ventured, “due to those aforementioned concerns, uh, I’ve been asked-“

“Aforementioned? What kind of talk is that?”

“Ha, well, lawyerly talk I’m afraid. I need to get a report from you, colonel.”

“For God’s sake man, I just got here, maybe with a shower and a nap and a cup of joe I might have a report for you but- I just got here.”

“Yes.” he refused to wince, he refused to. He was a colonel now, he had to require unpleasant things every day from his friends. Today it was required from a hero. Small difference in a war. “And if it were up to me I’d give you weeks to do all that before asking a thing from you. But I can’t, colonel. They wanted an immediate, preliminary report. It’s -it’s the same as an integration after a mission. Less interaction beforehand, less time to confuse the details- you get my drift.”

“You’re under orders.”

“I am.”

“Why didn’t you say? God’s sake Rosenthal.” she was close to angry now.

“Sorry, ok, Colonel I-“

“Why the whole welcoming committee schtik? Just say what you mean.”

“It’s not a schtick, Ma’am,” he insited, heatedly, “it’s a genuine honor to have you back with us and a relief to see you safe. And yes, I have orders to get a preliminary report.”

“In future you can save us both precious minutes of our lives by being this forthright, please?”

“Understood.”

“Right, well. What’s wanted? What kind of report?” He didn’t fail to notice the sudden and very studied nonchalance that took over her gait, the way she leaned against the railing of her footboard, almost a slouch that made the lean line of her look entirely unperturbed. He wasn’t a good lawyer out of naïveté about such posturing. She was braced like hell for this, probably worse than he was.

“On uh, on your general treatment. Ma’am.” he decided to summarize it thusly.

“Well Colonel,” he had forgotten what a nice voice she had, it wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t gruff, it was simply nice, “if Gale Cleven’s under eyes didn’t tell you the food was meager and hardly nutritious, I’ll go on record to say so. But they did try, I think I can give them that. Looked like everyone was starving by the end.”

“Conduct of your guards?” he had his stupid little leather case open on his forearm and the not quite soggy notepad in it was being dutifully filled with scribbles.

“I’ve little to say against the Luftwaffe, they were honorable for the most part. I think you’ll get that same report from the others. There were a few incidents, but we were enemies. To be expected.”

“Right, uh,” the pencil drug a little “this is a general report so I’ll spare an inquiry into those incidents.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

“Anything else?” Ida tried to smooth her face, she really did.

“Colonel -yes.” she watched him as he deliberated for a moment before seeming to recall her scathing admonition of before, and carried on resolutely in the bluntest manner he could summon, “Regarding your prolonged detention before the stalag. It’s our understanding you were not always under Luftwaffe jurisdiction?”

“That’s correct. Combatant status was not recognized for four and a half weeks.” Ida gave a clipped nod. “We were even briefly detained at a concentration camp.”

“I can’t imagine what you must’ve seen there.”

Ida stared back with some slight emotion flitting over her mask-like face at long last and Rosie felt maybe his own showed it, too, “From what I’ve heard, we may be the only ones to have left alive.” she said at last.

“Your testimony, what you saw there, it could become-“ Rosie drew in breath, “-invaluable.”

“I’d do anything to see justice done, Colonel.” she agreed, “Sometimes I think I dreamed such mass cruelty. Seems too large to be real, too awful to be abetted for so long by so many.”

“I saw what was left of one of the smaller camps. In Poland.”

“Mm, so you can imagine.” she retorted, but it was a kind retort.

“I don’t see much else when I close my eyes.”

“Mm.”

“Right, back to this uh, report, the question is, how were you treated before civilian status was adhered to?”

“Is this a personal report or a general one?” Ida inquired suddenly.

“The assignment was to ask about your own observations as senior officer of the female contingent of-“

“-then in that case, the treatment was barbaric, Colonel Rosenthal.” Ida informed him forcefully, “The Luftwaffe used plenty of rough tactics and one officer was particularly cruel to Cleven. I was informed my brother was dying and that my obstinance in denying giving them information was prolonging his torment. All of that I was prepared for, it was one soldier’s attempt to break another. The gestapo, on the other hand, were beasts. And the SS -sadists. They dealt in cruelty for the pleasure of it and my girls went through hell. Once in the stalag there was a reprieve. Then the Luftwaffe were relieved of command and it began again- if you expect details, come back with a larger notepad.”

Rosie gave a curt nod of his own in understanding, his brow creased at the implication.

“No one wants to see justice done for them more than I.” Ida went on, “But they’re still out there, and I’m here. And I-I don’t know that those are my stories to tell, Colonel. What I saw is plenty enough to hang a village. And it wasn’t just toward my girls.”

“At…at a later point, you’d be willing then?” he ventured, softly, no longer professional, “To tell me what you saw?”

“Larger notebook, Rosenthal.”

“Yes ma’am.” he knew a dismissal when he heard one, he even felt a brief and heinous relief at the prospect of slipping away on a high note. The dreaded scrapping of the program still undiscussed. “I’ll uh, leave ya to that shower.”

“It’s good to be back, Colonel.” she called to him while he was still maneuvering through a somewhat meandering exit, she called out this concession as if it were meant only in regards to him, “Like what you’ve done with the place.”

Well now that was -that was kind and that was unexpected and Colonel Robert Rosenthal may have let the door hit him on the way out.

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[mrs2224]

A Court Of Shadows and Shields

Azriel (ACOTAR)/ Original Female Character, Rhysand (ACOTAR)& Original Female Character

Tags: Fluff, Smut, and Angst, 18+plus

Summary: Milla is a human girl from Virginia. She runs away from her home just to be pulled into Prythian, particularly the Night Court. Milla has to go through her new way of life, after picking up some power on her way through the portal. In her way, this new way of life is a second chance. Even if it was a rocky start. It is up to Milla and the inner circle to take down a new hidden enemy. While she is also battling herself, involving her connection with the Shadowsinger

Chapter 1: The Start of Something New.

TW: TW: Animal Death, Suicidal thoughts, and Panic attack.

All I could hear in the distance was shouting. My lips clicked for Brayden to ride faster through the woods. My hood over my head. My disgustingly white dress. That was torn up on the edges. I galloped faster and faster. There was a boulder in front of us. Before I could even think. Brayden tripped both of us flying forward. I quickly got up to my feet to rush to Brayden’s side trying to get him to stand. His leg was in bad shape. 

I could hear my father’s words in the distance along with his riders. I had my revolver in my hand. Brayden finally got up, and I petted him quickly. Grabbing the reins as we hurried farther into the woods. The leaves crunching. Brayden was somewhat limping. He trotted next to me. I hopped over rocks and branches on the ground. The pine and oak trees surround us—the Cold musky air of Virginia. 

We kept running till we were met with a ledge. I stopped short, the drop-off was about fifty feet. Down into a rushing river. I looked around to find a way to get across. If there was a bridge or something. I couldn’t go back. I would not go back. I felt my head hurt. My mouth was bloodied and bruised. I felt a sting in my stomach. I looked around. There was no way to get across. My heart sunk to my stomach.

The night sky was silent. As I felt footsteps approaching me. I looked to see my father drunk as can be. A gun in his hand. Two riders on either side. One of them was the man I was to be wedded to. The other was the man’s father. I stood my ground. Brayden was behind me. My dark brown hair was braided up and flying in the air currents from the river and the mixture of the night sky.

“Come back, Milla. It is very rude to run off at your wedding.” My father looked at me. His drunk words stung me deeply. If he was sober, he would have regretted this. But drunk words were considered to be sober thoughts. And He was never sober. Not after my mother’s death last year. 

“No! No! I will not go back. I will not marry someone because you want me to. I will marry someone because I want to. Not for land or wealth!” I shouted at him, My tears streaming down my cheeks. I stepped back moving closer to the edge knowing that the only solution was to jump. 

My father shook his head in a devilish sarcastic way. I had never seen him act this way before. As If I was an object, not a person.

“You are just a woman in my house, you don’t get to choose who you will be with!” He slandered his words as if he was satan himself.

Brayden shifted slightly behind me. My father looked at my horse and before I even could answer. He fired at Brayden. I screamed watching him drop to the ground. I sunk to my knees to see if I could save him. But he was dead already. My father grunted as he signaled his two riders to get me. I sprung back to my feet. The pain inside my stomach was blistering with fire. I stepped back to the edge of the cliff. 

“Get Over Here! Now!” he yelled.

I looked down the drop and back at him. I sighed and threw my revolver to the ground. I knew this was the end. I knew that this was where my story stopped. 

My brother called my name out in the distance, somewhere in the woods. Police sirens screaming as if I knew they were closing in on my father and his men. I took a deep breath. When my eyes blinked. Flames were coming from my irises. My face shed a tear before I grinned at him. 

“I’ll see you in hell” That was went I jumped off the side of the ledge. Fell down the cliff.

“MILLLA!!!” My father screamed my name. Shock in his eyes. He dropped his gun and bottle of alcohol. Sprinting to the edge to watch me fall. He looked away moments after. Not wanting to see all of it. 

I closed my eyes thinking this was it. That I was gone and that this was the end. But then just like that, I felt gravity around me putting me into a blue shield. I felt a power or force inside myself that I had never felt. I felt my fingers and my body started to charge up. Then there was a cyan-blue glow hollowed into my eyes. 

And then I felt nothing. As my body traveled through something before I fell out of the sky, the cyan blue illuminated up to the heavens above me. Like I was Thor tunneling down into battle from Asgard. I was finally met with a hit from a tree and another tree. I was freefalling till my body plummeted into the white fluffy snow. I was in pain lying on the ground. The coldness around me. I turned to my side as I vomited up what appeared to be blood and before I passed out onto the snow. My eyes were still glowing brightly. 

I was out for a couple of hours. I launched myself from the snow. Panting as I looked around to see where I was. It was cold, and the large snowflakes covered my legs and dress. I didn’t know where I was. I slowly got up on my feet. I had a gash on my stomach and a tear in my dress. As I was keeping it closed. 

I stumbled through the snowy ground. Hissing in pain. The crunch of my boots into the knee-high snow was the only sound. I panicked being alone in the night with no one. I started to shiver and then I cried out. 

“HELP ME!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!” I screamed, as I was crying holding my stomach. 

I saw lights in the distance before I made my way slowly there. I was wobbling on my feet, trying to walk normally. It took some time to get there. But once I got there. It looked like a training camp. It wasn’t very busy. I Screamed out crying once again.

“SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” I belted out my lungs. I felt them squeeze around me. I couldn’t breathe at all. My eyes were still glowing blue. My hand was on my stomach. I stumbled into the camp. I fell and lay there. I looked up at the sky.

I heard sets of boots heading in my direction. They appeared over me. Three men were looking down at me. They were all wearing devil wings. I knew for a fact that I was dead. Because no human can wear wings. One of the men kneeled, looking over my body, his eyes widened. His voice was rich and deep as he looked behind him. 

“Get the Commander here immediately!” He shouted and looked at everyone around. “Help her, bring her to the healing tent.” The man said. Before another man picked me up with no trouble. He carried me into the camp

I was placed in a small tent. And was set down on a mattress-like stretcher. Something I remember seeing after one of my brothers was being pulled out of a car. My mind was numb. And I felt numb. I was so tired and I was in pain. So much pain. 

“Cassian, she’s in here” a Mumbled voice peaked from behind the tent.

 I must have been dozing off into a slumber because I wasn’t aware of any conversations being played out. All I knew was I had a weird feeling inside me that was batting within itself. Like four different things were fighting each other. I had no idea what was causing it. I fell fifty feet and now I am dead. I hope to believe I am. I heard more mumbling. But all I could get out of it was. 

“We have to tell….” more mumbling. “The High Lord about this..” The voice was serious and concerning. My eyes were still glowing. I don’t know why my eyes were glowing. The Commander looked down at me, I felt his stare behind the illuminating blue glow. Before he left the tent. I was alone once again. 

I fell back asleep in the tent. I dreamed of nightmares and being chained up and beaten by my father with the help of the man I was supposed to be married to. But when I woke. I was no longer in the tent in the camp. 

I was in a bedroom. My eyes were back to their normal color. They treated my stomach with some stitches it looked to be. The pain was somewhat still intense. I was panting out, I rose from the bed. But I was still in this dark room. There was no window or light. It seemed like to me I was in a cell. A cell with an actual bed. There was an iron door in the room. Yep definitely in a cell.

“Is there somebody there!?! I need help!!” I called out. 

But none answered. I panicked. I don’t like being in small places it makes me react and panic. I fell on the floor trying to breathe from being too closed in. My vision was fuzzy and my hands were shaking. I didn’t even notice when someone walked in. Well, two figures were approaching me. I looked at the wall. Before a voice appears to my left. 

“Who are you?!” The voice was deep, raspy, and a little bit elegant. The man approached me. 

I panicked and did backflip. Crouching looking at my hands gripping the stone floor before looking up. 

“Whoever the Hell are you?? Where Am I!?!” I panicked. My eyes were filled with fear. I was looking around the room. I was so fearful that I was going to die in heaven. I guess I was right about seeing someone in hell. 

The man kneeled in front of me, he grabbed my chin forcing me to look up at him. I didn’t see much other than violet eyes. I have never seen anyone back at home with eyes like that. They were hypnotizing me. His eyes were on mine for a while. before he let go and lowered my chin.

He turned away from me before walking to the door. He looked to his right and singled the other guy to bring me out of the cell of a bedroom. 

The man nodded to him before approaching me. He slowly lifted me to my feet. I looked down at his hands. That was now placed on my shoulders. They were scars, no more like burns to be exact. Like the ones on me. On my legs. He had two large wings on his back too. But he was only a silhouette. He has some blue illuminating throughout certain areas. Like a gemstone or a light. I couldn’t figure it out. My black eye was bulging on me. The man nudged my shoulder as I muttered

 “What’s going on? Where am I??” But the man never answered instead he walked with me. One hand on my shoulder. Pushing me forward. Wherever I was, I was not in Virginia anymore.

[madhatterbri]

Star-Crossed | Hangman A.P.

Summary: A fic about the time two star-crossed lovers didn't make it and the one time they did.

Author's Note: Bored? Play my newest escape room found here. Also, fair warning, this is sad.

Hangman Adam Page Masterlist

Taglist: @plentyoffandoms @theworldofotps @hotgirlgraps

🇺🇲

The year was 1865. Despite vowing to never return, Adam Page found himself walking through the fields of Gettysburg. The wind blew through his blonde hair. Despite the calm scenery, he still saw the bodies of comrades scattered amongst the fields.

His boots carried him as memories continued to pour in. Lost in the thoughts of his mind, he didn't notice he was in front of her house until it was too late. His green eyes filled with tears.

Y/N was his first love, his only love. Her family moved to Gettysburg when she was a little girl. When he sent her an urgent letter that war was coming to her, she wouldn't leave. He took a shaky breath and blinked.

Papers after the Battle of Gettysburg reported that their was only one civilian casualty. A girl by the name of Jennie Wade, who was shot by a stray bullet. There was no recollection of his Y/N. It was as if she never existed.

Adam walked into the house. Long abandoned after the owner died, nature was starting to reclaim the house and land. His eyes played tricks on him. All the times they spent in the house together. Adam dropped to his knees and cried.

��

The year was 1875. "Hangman" Adam Page was now sheriff in the Wild West. He used the skills picked up in the military to bring lawlessness down in his little town. He was favored heavily by his governor, Tony Khan.

Despite the fact that he was doing good, he made a lot of enemies. Men who would love to hurt him at any cost. He had a group of men to protect him, though. Friends such as the Young Bucks and Kenny Omega to keep things in order.

Adam managed to fall in love again. A dead ringer of his lost Y/N, she made her loss seem almost bearable. She knew all about his lost love. Long and countless nights, he would wake up whimpering. The image of her slain body appeared so real before him.

One night, he came home to the wooden door left open. His friends looked at each other nervously. One of his numerous enemies must have found the hideout. He cursed and jumped off his horse. Revolver in hand, Adam ran inside and stopped. He started to yell no.

Adam dropped to his knees and scooped her in his arms. Tears poured down to her face. There was no surviving this. Even if a doctor was to burst it at any moment. She looked at him as the light left her eyes.

"At least I got to see you one last time,"

❤️

Adam Page made his way through the busy city that was hosting AEW that night. Lost in his phone, he managed to bump into a woman. Their phones dropped on the floor.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Y/N sighed and picked up their phones.

"It's on me, darling. I didn't mean to," he stopped when their eyes finally met. The woman had a familiarity with her. Maybe she went to a previous show of his. "Do I know you?"

"Not yet, but I wouldn't mind knowing you," she answered.

Adam smiled, and the two of them started to walk together. Behind them, the ghosts of their past smiled at one another. Maybe this time, they would finally be together.

[dark-elf-writes]

Will and Nico being asked to adopt Nico’s great-great nephew who has some really bad relatives he's living with. Little nephew has some necromatic skills and is a delight.

Little nephew is named Harry and he is the apple of his parents eyes. All of them, his summoned parents included.

I. Am. Screaming.

Nico getting called in by his father who is very careful about what he can say so he can’t be accused of being directly involved while also heavily implying that he wants at least one child of his line to have a good childhood. Nico who is used to his father asking him for favors at this point but never like this. Never with worry lines worn openly on his face and his eyes showing each and every one of his years of life. Never with a “Please” stated so openly, so plainly.

Nico spares a trip back to the cramped apartment he and Will share while Will is working through medical school to explain what little he can and what more he suspects before leaving to England, unsurprisingly, with Will in tow.

The house they find from what little information Hades could give is too neat. Too normal. Exactly like all the other houses on the block. It’s only Will’s quick talking that gets them in the door after the horse-like woman gets a look at Nico’s painted nails and the remnants of eyeliner that he didn’t quite wash off before being summoned by his father. It’s only Hades’ parting words, delivered through clenched teeth and dripping with world ending fury and eternal sorrow, that makes Nico’s eyes catch on the door.

“You’ll find what you’re looking for under the stairs.”

It’s a short thing. A mere storage space tucked under the stairs.

So why does it have a padlock on it? Why was there a grate snapped shut to keep out all light? Why, if Nico strained his ears and reached out for the shadows, did he hear muffled breathing?

Nico doesn’t bother with pleasantries after that. Doesn’t bother to demand them open the lock either. Instead, with the screams of the dead in his ears and the burning of the Phlegethon in his viens, he brings the hilt of his sword down on the lock and snaps it before anyone can stop him. Not that anyone seems inclined to. Will is already putting the pieces together is the clench of his jaw, and a sword — or whatever weapon they are seeing through the mist — is a rather good deterrent to keep anyone from stoping him.

Inside he finds a boy and the sight drives the breath from his lungs.

(It was a running joke around camp that all of the Greek big three kids looked alike, which Nico thought was a bit of a stretch considering that their one shared attribute was dark hair and he wasn’t entirely convinced Thalia’s was natural.

It wasn’t until he looked at the boy in the cabinet and saw a mix of Percy and Bianca looking back at him that he understood what the others had been saying. That he understood that, while the gods have no DNA to pass down on their own, they were still related and certain traits did carry through.)

Nico holds out a hand to the child and tries to smile. Tries to look heroic and comforting. Prays to his father that no manticore will appear to ruin this rescue.

“My name is Nico di Angelo. I’m your… well, let’s go with Uncle.” The whole god thing would only confuse the poor kid not to mention Nico’s own past would only complicate matters.

The kid, Harry his father had called him, looks him over doubtfully. “You’re young.”

Behind him, and likely in spite of himself, Will snorts. Nico feels his smile tip towards something more honest. Something more steady. A smartass he could handle. The kid would fit in great.

“My boyfriend and I have a place in New York. You’d never have to see this place again.”

Harry doesn’t so much as hesitate before scrambling out of the closet and into Nico’s waiting arms.

(It’s easier to get out without violence when he has a kid perched on his hip. Will, on the other hand, has no such excuse and gladly broke the rather purple faced man’s wrist when he finally decided his fury outweighed his fear of Nico being armed and tried to take the child from him.)

They find papers waiting for them on the table when Nico shadow travels them home, thankfully able to manage longer jumps without passing out after years of practice under Will’s watchful eye. Adoption papers, a birth certificate, citizenship papers. All of them for one Harry Di Angelo.

So much for his father not being directly involved.

[onmyyan]

🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon, here again! #3?

I don’t think you’re ever gettin rid of me now that you’ve told me you like what I’ve submitted to ya. Ya bad for me n my ego. You’re enabling me hun. It does mean a lot to me though and I am very happy I’m makin you foam at the mouth. Your men make me go feral and I obviously have stage 4 brain rot for all your OCs. No treatment for me. No salvation either doc

So here some intense follow up appointment delulu I got from the long ass Ashley Hunt AU story with hard core city girl reader I sent earlier. Buckle up bitch…you’re probably always gonna be in for a long haul with me…

Leavin off from Ash and our HEA, we got twins on the way n shit. And Ash is gonna give us at least another 5 babies too since we his happy lil breedin sow. But we gon speed up in time and not focus too much on dat, cause in the end we got 6 sons and 1 lil baby girl who da youngest. All back to back pregnancies. Ash got dem sexy hot dominant genes and really just gave his sons all the gifts he himself has. Tall, handsome, strong, chivalrous, charismatic, intelligent, etc. (They probably god’s favorites too). And we were like a fuckin printin machine makin copies n wonderin why the fuck we havin so many sons. So we fuckin delighted when we finally got a baby girl and are finally able to put the towel in cause we were also done havin his babies too. We love him. But 7 is plenty…

And so our story is really gonna focus on our lil baby Princess, cause she’s basically gonna be the “new reader insert.” Lil baby Princess grows up as a total daddy’s girl and is also doted on by her 6 big bros. She knows how to do some farm work, though she mostly inside helpin us her mama doin domestic work as it’s a bit more tough takin care of 7 men by oneself and we can always use an extra pair of hands in the kitchen. And you bet Ash is drillin in the same work ethic into his own sons as his own pa did to him. Builds character...

Lil baby Princess grows up wantin more in life. Just like how Ash’s sons inherited near almost everything from him, she inherited near almost everything from us her mama. Princess wanna leave the small town fast and is dead set on doin so when she graduates with her associates degree from the local community college. Her daddy, Ash managed to convince her to stay at the community college first. Get out general eds, stay closer to home before makin the big city leap and potentially getting a bachelors degree. Reluctantly Princess agreed to it but still had to go to the next town over since that’s where the community college is. Her home town is still much smaller…

And so she finally got her associates degree at 21 and is headin to the city to find a job n new life once the summer passes. It’ll be her last summer at home with her family she’s decided. On one of her casual outings ridin a horse she finds a man stuck on the road. Flat tire. Nice car too. He’s very handsome, tall, and muscular…to everyone else. But to Princess he just average and nothin much to look at. That what livin with 7 men built by Greek gods for 21 years does to ya. Makes ya numb to everyone people will conventionally say is beautiful n attractive. And Princess grew up with every woman around her thirstin over one of her bros and her father too. Even women from other towns would find excuses to swing by and gawk at the 7 men workin on the farm. So needless to say Princess isn’t wooed by men’s appearances…

Princess decides to help the poor fellow out cause her daddy raised her right. Offers him up a ride on her horse and tells the man she’ll call a truck for his car later. The man accepts and thinkin she’ll have to help him up on the horse for some time, the man easily mounts on the horse like it’s the second nature? And in an expensive suit too? She shakes it off and they go back to the Hunt farm…

During the ride the man asks Princess her name and what not (and I guess it’d still be Y/N cause the excuse is that she was named after her mama by Ash’s demands). Princess asks his name too, he gives it to her, and then no more talking on her end. This confuses the man as all his life people have usually wanted to make conversation with him. Or have usually always commented on his beautiful appearance by now. But not Princess. She really doesn’t give a shit about a stranded man’s life story. She’s here to do a job and get on with her life. And of course she’s immune to beauty at this point…

They finally come to the Hunt residence where Princess puts away her horsie and fixes up the man some water and food, bein a good host and all. She calls up the local mechanic and informs them of the details. Princess then just straight up leaves the man and tells him if he wants to take a nap, shower, whatever, to help himself. This is a fuckin power move as Princess has truly run out of shits to give in life. And she still ain’t tryin to converse at all with the man. Man is livid right now. Seeing Princess’s eyes filled with indifference. He confused as fuck too. Wonderin if she mentally sound or this is some country culture etiquette he doesn’t understand…

Now for the good shit. The Hunt men all come in as with so many hands workin on the farm now, shit gets done exponentially faster even though they got more stock and stuff over the years. They a little confused at first seein a posh lookin man greet them. But nothin gets bad as the man quickly explains the situation that happened. And the man is stunned to lookin at all these 7 aesthetically gorgeous men. The man is very confident in his own looks and it rarely happens in his life that he starts to get a bit insecure about them…

Ash asks the man where his daughter is, and the man replies that she just left? Much to the laughter of Ash’s 6 sons howling that “they’ll have nothing to ever worry about” with Princess. The man’s ego is damaged at this point. Is he unattractive? Is he undesirable? But he easily keeps a calm and collected face and voice…

The Hunt men politely excuse themselves having to go wash up from workin all day, leaving the man all alone again. We the mama enter the area, having heard commotion n stuff. We were preparing dinner n stuff in the kitchen which was far away. We go through same process and introduce and meet the mystery man. The phone rings and it’s the mechanic tellin us that the car won’t be ready for quite some time and the man will have to hitch a ride out of town if he’s got somewhere to be urgently. We inform the man and also ask if he got a place to stay. He don’t since he was just drivin by the town, so we offer him our home for the time bein. He hesitantly accepts…

Man decides to converse with us instead since we’re the most hospitable and social person he’s met in the family. He asks about our family and we do him. He keeps his background vague and we get the hint not to pock around. He really is just curious about our daughter, the Princess of the family. And we happily tell him all about her. Her hopes and dreams n stuff. Much to his delight that Princess seems like a normal human being n not a mechanical doll…

And that when he get the idea to propose to Princess later to take her with him out of the town to see the city and new places. Cause while he hasn’t fallen in love with her at first sight or anything like Ash did, there’s something about us that’s drawing him near. Perhaps it is our absolute indifference to him, and the fact that he just wants to prove something to himself. He wants to “figure us out.” Princess is a bit of a conquest and trophy to him, and he’s not afraid to admit that. So what’s the harm in this mutually future beneficial relationship? He’ll provide for Princess to get out of town and be able to see the world, and in turn he’ll get us to fall for him. The perfect plan. Nothing can go wrong…

A Princess for a Grand Duke, isn’t that fitting? Though the man will keep that a secret for as long as he can. If she asks questions about his wealth he’ll just pretend he’s an investor or something. One things for sure, Princess will definitely keep him entertained for a long time. A really really really long time…⁄(⁄ ⁄ ⁄ω⁄ ⁄ ⁄)⁄

And scene! I just love imaginin different flavors of a yandere stories. Like dis one is obviously a much more slower burn than the whirlwind romance of Ash and his wifey. And it’d really follow the descent of madness of a Grand Duke yandere who’s truly falling into love and obsession over his lady. He thinkin he in control at first but realize steadily fast that he can’t live without her. And to make it worse, he never lose control of things in his life. Not his looks, his composure, etc. so it makes this predicament even nastier for him to deal with. But lucky for us Princess, havin grown up with Ash as our daddy and 6 big bros who also have some questionable “protective” tendencies, we have a bit of a contorted sense of love too. So our “normal” is much different than other people’s “normal”

Also did you like the hint I dropped in dis drabble about the mystery man’s background? It was about him being able to easily get up on a horse despite being in a suit and lookin all fancy and stuff. Cause not many people can do that. So you either know how to do it as a career…or as a hobby…

Final thought as to why a Grand Duke yandere ya thinkin? From your OCs ya got the Delmonts who are criminal flavor, then Ash who’s country flavor, and then other popular yandere archetypes tend to be royalty, famous, or CEO more often than not. So I thought that royalty would be fun since it’d give the new leadin man not just an abundance of financial power but social power as well that CEO power might lack. Ya know…since royals can have diplomatic immunity and CEOs pretty much don’t. Some new flavors for the spice cabinet is always good. Besides I also just wanna see a man abuse his absolute power with impunity in yandere stories sometimes…So if ya ever decide to make a new yandere OC. Here an idea. I don’t mind ya usin it and I’d be thrilled if ya did

Love 🗡️Psycho🗡️ Anon

A/N: OKAYA THE INSTANT BRAIN ROT THIS GSVE ME SBDJDKD YOU DID IT AGAIN MY LOVE OMG THE WAYYY I INSTANTLY FELL IN LOVE WJTH THIS PIECE EEEE THE SIX OLDER BROTHERS WHO ARE CARBON COPIES OF ASH??? HELLO??? AMAZING WRITING THAT DOWN Holy FUCK‼️‼️‼️💗👄💗 NOT TO MENTION THE DUKE EEEEEEEE AND PRINCESS IS SUCH A PERFECT NICKNAME FOR BABY GIRL I CANNOT YOUR MIND IS SO BEAUTIFUL THANK YOU FOR FEEDING ME AND US ONCE AGAIN😩😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️UR POOKIE FR HERE SUM V SMALL BEC MY BRAIN IMMEDIATELY STARTED HAPPY DANCING W THIS CONCEPT

Princess stared at the man, her hard (e/c) eyes unwaivering, unmoving in their glare. She sucked her teeth, hearing her father's voice in her head as she stuck her hand up waving the stranger over.

"Get on, we'll take you somewhere safe, get this all figured out yea?" Princess says, no hint of suggestion in her soft voice. The stranger staggered for a moment before offering her his famous grin, a smile that had gotten him far in his life, "Thank you- really you're too kind, what's your name?" He says smoothly mounting the horse, expecting some fanfare from the desert rose before him, but instead he got a stiff nod and, "(Y/n)." was all he got.

She clicked her tongue and the horse took off, she hadn't waited to see if he was situated, a small smile on her face as she heard him gasp at their sudden departure.

[katy-l-wood]

Who wants spoilers?

My new book comes out on October 31st, and I know some people prefer having more of a heads up about what happens in books than others, so this post shall be full of spoilery details below the cut, for those who want them!

You can find all the places to purchase the book on my website.

Main Characters:

Royal is genderfluid and queer and in their early 20s. Uses they/them pronouns. Appears as both a man, woman, and ??? at varying times throughout the story. Royal also suffers from chronic pain, something that plays a crucial role in the plot due to the fact they use magic to deal with it, but the problem with that is sometimes it works a little TOO good. Royal is obsessed with the magic of the Pits.

Clarabella is lesbian, is 17 (almost 18), and has a girlfriend named Emilia. She is Royal's younger sister. She does not believe in magic at the start of the book. She's considered the Good Sibling of her family, but only because she was always compared to Royal who was much louder in their nonsense so Clarabella seemed fine by comparison. She is not fine.

Shiloh is gay, in his mid 20s, and dating Royal. He is a VERY large Irish man with wild curly red hair and a beard that comes to a point, along with a twirled mustache. When Clarabella meets him she thinks he has a face the devil would steal. He is actually a teddybear, and worked as a teacher for a short time. His mother died when he was young in a house fire. He rides a semi-magical horse that is about twice the size of a regular horse. Said horse bites.

Akhíta is in her early 20s and 1/2 Lakota, 1/2 Black. Her father was a former slave who died in the Civil War when Akhíta was a toddler. She's loosely the leader of the little outlaw gang, but only in a vague sense. Her mother is a nurse and has so far managed to escape getting rounded up onto a reservation because she's been useful in the rural area she lives. It's implied that Akhíta frequently leaves the group to free people still being held in slavery/slavery like conditions and smuggles them to safety.

Other Characters:

Little Mountain is a Ute woman in her mid 20s and is completely deaf.

Emilia is 18, a lesbian, and Clarabella's girlfriend. Her father tries to marry her off to a rich Duke in California, which is what kicks off the plot of the book as Clarabella tries to go and rescue her. Emilia ends up getting corrupted by the magic of the Pits.

Fox is a 16ish trans man who ran away with Royal after Royal robbed his parents' house and Fox realized "hey, this person is genderweird, which sure does explain some things about myself, and I wanna know more."

The Preachers are a group of magical women who roam the Pits making deals. It is rumored they are women who ran away from abusive husbands and died in the Pits, but no one is entirely sure.

Plot Details:

No characters die. Royal is believed to have died at the end of the book, but in the epilogue it is revealed they are not actually dead, but some weird shit has certainly happened.

There are several gunfights throughout the book, and some do result in injuries of main characters and the death of NPC type characters.

The Pits, as they're known, are essentially inside-out mountains and the deeper you go the weirder the magic gets. Because of this, people do not go into the Pits, and those who do never come out for reasons unknown. If manmade objects get left in the Pits for long enough, they start to get imbued with unpredictable magical properties. Royal's gang goes into the shallow areas of the Pits--deep enough for objects to turn magical, but not so deep they're in much danger by doing so--and retrieves these objects, selling them to random rich people.

Some animals are implied to be killed during a big fight with fantasy creatures. Also the expected mentions of hunting and fishing for a story like this. Shiloh is injured in this attack.

There are a lot of discussions about racist/neglectful parents and coming to terms that even if they were good to YOU, that doesn't mean they were good people (and maybe they weren't all that good to you either).

There's no major on page racism and homophobia as part of the plot. These things are acknowledged, but only tangentially. Sometimes you just need a weird, fun fantasy story, ya know?

There is a scene where Clarabella nearly falls to her death when her rope snaps as the group is climbing down a cliff.

There's a scene where the characters are in a strange cavern full of huge crystals that show them visions of loved ones--dead and alive--telling them to turn around and go home.

I think that covers most of it? If you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

You can find all the places to purchase the book on my website.

[visratarg]

▮ ❛ some time after alicent returned and was shot, princess viserra targaryen found herself in the bedroom of her sister, laena oldflowers @fromspringandfire ❜ ──

Things repeated themselves in a great loop in Viserra's mind, like a twisted, thrilling dream that wouldn't allow her to wake up. With every blink of an eye, what had happened was repeated once more. The horse, the screams, the arrow. The woman with the coppery hair. Like the dragon's eternal dream. She should be dead, shouldn't she?  Gone for so long, practically becoming a ghost from the past, simply returning as if she were nothing. 

The metallic taste of blood was burning its way down the throat of the Targaryen who was restlessly chewing the inside of her left cheek. It was an old childhood habit long forgotten; a habit she used to have when she visited the Sept with her grandmother. When Alicent looked into her violaceous irises, repeating how she should behave, how to pray or even how to breathe. There weren't many good memories of her grandmother and, if there ever were, Viserra couldn't remember them; only traumas filled her mind.

However, the hardest thing about knowing that her grandmother was alive was remembering her mother. Helaena was always with Alicent, and she was always with her mother; eternally connected. The young purple girl's heart was filled with pain and a certain anger: her mother didn't want to survive for her or her brother, and a part of Viserra inexplicably screamed that it was her grandmother's fault. How could it be? She hadn't pushed Helaena, the princess knew, and she also understood that Alicent had suffered as much as she had, perhaps more. But a part of her felt guilty; maybe it was the need to put the blame on someone else to deal with the pain, maybe it was the anger stored up inside her trying to get out somewhere. 

Viserra didn't know, she just suffered from it. And now she was suffering even more from her return, anxious about the future that would be built from here. She was sure, no, actually she felt it in her bones, that her brother, Jaehaerys, would take her to the Crownlands. Alicent was still in her blood. But the princess didn't want that, definitely not, her chest burning with the very real possibility. Her grandmother might be in a coma, but what if she woke up? What if she went back to her old ways? Viserra felt that she would be condemned to always be by her side as before, as a good granddaughter, a great religious woman. She didn't need any more guilt on her shoulders. And then there were the twins, what if Alicent managed to catch up with them? 

There were multiple possibilities that made Viserra's skin feel hot, burning as if coals were being placed on it. Was that what Rhaenyra felt? She thought it couldn't have been, she still remembered what dragon fire felt like. Feeling her breathing become heavy and dizzy, the princess looked up at the window of her sister's room, feeling tears fill her vision. "Where's Laena?” she cursed, running her hands through the silver strands nervously. A little more force and she could have pulled out a few strands.

Why was she so destabilized? It was a question that ran through her mind along with the others. She'd been through so much, how could her grandmother alone have triggered all these feelings? A part of Viserra hoped it was just the first scare, it had to be, she wasn't that unbalanced. When she heard the sound of the door opening, she quickly looked away from the window and focused on the face in front of her, already feeling a whirlwind materialize in her throat. “What took you so long? I need you” came the voice as she stood up and walked into her sister's arms. Laena was the one person the Targaryen felt she could be herself without any problems, blood of her blood.

[blindrapture]

SUNDAY JULY 31ST, 2011 (Ground and Pound)

12:22AM Buck wasn't ready to go in yet, so we agreed to scout ahead. Past the drawbridge, past a dark entrance tunnel, the ceiling gives way to an open-air interior inside the castle walls. A fleet of stables on our left, a whole cottage industry of dyes and textiles on our right. Tubs of goop big enough for several to stand in. Few people were still around, having heard the fight going on at their front door. There were some old women, horns on their heads too, stomping their feet in the goop, and some making odd crafts, who eyed us with disdain but paid us no more attention. The faint thumping of Legsteps caused a woman to raise her fist at the air and shout something in a foreign language. Probably a curse, a demand to turn the music off. We've found no guards yet, though. No cause for hostility. Donnie took a look at the stables and found perfectly ordinary horses, goats, pigs. But there's also one other type of animal she'd never seen before, looked like a big cat with udders. Taking the left turn to reach the stables, then turning right again, we're faced with a long path lain with red carpet, passing four big doors on both sides, leading up to a door as big as the castle entrance. That's the keep with the big spire. I'm pretty sure that's where our boss battle's hiding. The door will not open for us. No door will, in fact. So, we're in a big open-roof h. Entered on the bottom-right. Stables on the bottom-left. The textile workers are in the curve on the right. Final stretch is top-left. And, this being a castle, the tall walls have battlements where I keep expecting to see guards looking down on us from above. But nothing. No dead bodies lining the streets. No massive instruments of war staring us down to shoot flaming cannonballs. No crowd of people gathered around wizards warning against witchcraft, pointing at us in righteous indignation. I was even partly expecting an entire army of giant halberd horsemen, looking angrily in our direction, as soon as we came in. Donnie and I took the peace as an opportunity to rest up. We found a pile of hay and sat together, taking in the sights, watching the black grid in the sky drift slowly in a direction, like clouds. We settled on our plan for the Cipher: We'd get to the king, maybe ahead of Buck if at all possible, and explain our situation. We'd neutralize Buck together and ask the king for a way out. My sword's gotta be good for something. Then we got to talking about the history mentioned in parchment 3. This world went through a red sky. A 'plague' came through their doors. It dethroned their-- took their God, and turned an entire kingdom into walking piles. Neither of us is sure whether that's the fate that awaits our world, but it's gotta be talking about the same kind of thing. This kingdom went through the Rapture. And our gods are frightened for their lives.

12:32 AM Buck has joined us. "Did you two see that creepy fuckin' hallway on the way in, off to the side?" Creepy hallway? o_o

12:36 AM Back at the entrance, in the dark entrance tunnel, we had obviously passed an open door. Looking through it, there's just a distant lantern on a table on the other side of black passage.

12:37 AM As we approach the table, we can hear something whirring and tapping. Music preparing to drop. The table has a piece of parchment on it, and a lever. "Good cavaliers. You stand within Castle True. After the plague that befell my land, I had my most trusted diseuse cast her Rhetorics on the castle to disguise its nature, as mine people deserved not to have to see themselves as they now had become. However, only the true are permitted entrance to my throne room, and so my door is sealed as long as the disguise holds. You will have to see what lies beneath the veil. Once you pull that lever, it will begin. Can you put a price on peace?" ...we're looking at each other. the music is. bubbling under the surface. Donnie's reaching for the lever.

12:39 AM hard guitars. chugging monotone. blasting drums. syncopated. freaky shrieking synth. techno horror metal. the lights are on. electric bulbs. now we see the bodies. lining the walls. they're melted together. people fused at the hip. the head. the arm. the chest. some bodies going through others', some bodies terminating where the next person's body begins. and not a single cut, it's all unbroken skin. their eyes are open, looking at us. mouths agape, unable to shut. they are the walls. feet touching the floor. buck threw up a little. let's. let's go.

12:40 AM on the way out, a leg tripped donnie. we grabbed her and pulled her the rest of the way, doing our best to ignore the arms reaching out. out in the main entrance hall, it's not much better. the walls here are breathing in and out. not quite regular, but that's worse, that makes it pretty clear there's a will inside there, consciously breathing. going out into the castle proper, can already see the sky is no longer a grid. it's just bruise and a texture like congealed liquids that don't mix. makes me think of bile and blood pooling around bits of cartilage. no grid. no order. the castle is shrieking. the old women were leaving us alone out of necessity, as their lower halves are melted into the fleshy ground. they look like slugs. there are guards, plenty of guards, but they were absorbed into the ground, and now they emerge, pushed out by peristalsis, also with melted lower halves, frozen to the spot, only able to move their arms, which they use to aim their bows. I don't want to make out the expressions on their faces, there is no good option. donnie "let's. get to the. throne room. now." buck "don't have to tell me twice." big sigh, steeling himself.

12:44 AM those arrows are not wood, nor steel, they are sharpened teeth. buck has tipped over a vat of.. clothes dye??? and lifted it over the three of us to form a shield. one of the old women cursed at us. her mouth opened wider than the vat. I thought she was going to swallow us. instead she launched black phlegm which missed us and sizzled into the ground, bubbling and melting a hole. go. go. go. gotta round the corner. get past the... stables. that's a giant liquid mass of animal. neighing, braying, growling, all at once. body parts swim around in the mass freely. it's pressing against the gates. the gates will not hold. but they're holding long enough for us to read another piece of parchment. "Good cavaliers. The red sky brought us a plague of flesh."

12:49 AM The gates burst. Goop barrelled out, the animals inside pulling the mass in every direction, ultimately resulting in a writhing flood charging back and forth, hitting the walls again and again. The force of a flood combined with the panic of a stampede of confused animals. We fucking ran. Ditched the vat. The mass spilled onto the red carpet first, so we had to turn back and push our way into the peasants' quarters behind the textiles and dyes, slipping past the immobile old women screaming in terror. A doorway gave way into an interior of yet more gross suffering. Greeting us were more people plastered into growths on the walls, but at least the door shut behind us.

12:50 AM "guh!" oh. there's a blacksmith here, one foot fused with his anvil. he's. he's still able to move with it, dragging it screechingly across the floor. his eyes are frantic, bloodshot. his beard is crusted to his apron. he wields a large hammer. and we don't have much space to dodge him without getting within reach of the arms and mouths on the walls. buck shouted "FUCK THIS!" and grabbed at the blacksmith's hammer. he can't disarm the smith. it is his arm. "YOU FUCKING ABOMINATIONS" "grah!!!!" hammer broke buck's leg. okay. donnie. this is easy. there's three of us, and now the blacksmith is distracted. stay calm. and rush him.

12:51 AM "grrrggl" sword through the chest. frying pan concussion. only vomited a little afterwards. buck thanked us. but I don't know what he can do with his dead leg. "C'mon, kids... I can still fight!! It's nothing, just a leg!" he's getting freaked because there is a serious opportunity here. and we're.. not immediately reassuring him. just looking at each other. sigh.

12:53 AM Donnie and I just told him to rest up. We're not gonna leave him, not here. But we found a staircase, and we need to have a look around. Up the stairs is the battlement, the path atop the castle walls. We have a good view of the scene below. The rampaging animal thing has scarpered out the castle entrance, leaving a trail of gunk on all the destroyed crates and barrels and detritus. The guards up on the battlements are turned to watch the animals outside the castle, see what they get up to. Donnie tapped my shoulder, pointed at a lookout tower nearby. She sees a parchment on the doorway. We've got to get there. But we will have to pass a few guards, and we will be noticed. ..she's pointed at my sword. Yeah, I guess that's fair.

12:54 AM the sword slices through the guards like butter! but all the other guards have noticed us and are taking aim so donnie's trying to shield against the arrows with her frying pan and I'm trying to hide behind dead guard bodies

12:55 AM at least the music is fucking awesome

12:56 AM hiding in the tower tip tip tap tap tap arrows hitting the wall we made it alright we still have to get back but for now we're alright. donnie, what does the parchment say. "Good cavaliers. An existence of pain and torment awaits all who dare challenge the terminal coming. The colossal sirens will sing your doom for the rest of your days, and those days will be long. Dost thou see them out there, encircling my castle? They play an infernal music that is eldritch to our ears. The music waiting for you will no doubt be worse, as every time the music must reprise, it has new values to incorporate, and a new understanding of 'music' to desecrate. I have spent my later years wondering, in vain, why this is to be. What force stands to benefit from torturing my domain? Does it benefit from torturing thine as well? What laws fuel its sadism? Your final challenge awaits just outside my throne room, in mine church. Remain mindful. I pray thou aren't digested on the way here." Wait, but then what was this challenge? donnie "'Remain mindful,' I suppose? The challenges inside the castle have been much more direct."

12:58 AM It did ask if we see the sirens outside the castle. We're in a lookout tower. May as well look! "Yeah, it's the Legsteps. I can see them. Are they breathing fire?" marching, evenly-paced, along the bay. engulfed in an eternal flame as they blast out heavy screeching metal. the fire shoots out rhythmically, I suspect it's just being propelled by the force of the speakers. "Better than dubstep, I guess, but so much more destructive. ..oh my god." what "Look at the moon." ...oh, that's not a moon. o_o That's an eyeball, staring right at the castle. "It doesn't look like an animal's eye or an insect's or anything, it looks almost human." But a lot more complex than a human's. Like this is what our eyes might evolve into, hundreds of thousands of years from now. Multiple layers of iris, veins rotating and interweaving in the white. "The sky makes me feel like we're inside a giant organ, so that'd be an eyeball in the organ, monitoring--" okay I don't want to think about that part. "What, too gross?" all of this is hitting on a deeper phobia of mine. "This is how the denizens of this castle have had to live, though. No wonder they needed a veil over reality." can we just go now? "Back through the arrows?" yeah. we've still got work to do.

1:01 AM Back in the blacksmith's forge. Had to pull an arrow out of my leg. Buck's standing, using some wood as a makeshift crutch.

1:02 AM We filled him in on where we have to go next. We're willing to defend him from incoming arrows, as it helps a lot to have a big dude with us. He's.. starting to feel the fear. We're not in a good spot.

1:03 AM Donnie and I tipped over a wooden table and are holding it to shield us all, to the best of our abilities. I don't expect this to work the whole way, but. We've got to try. We're nearly there.

1:07 AM slow going, at buck's pace. we're not there yet. not rounding the corner yet, not at the red carpet yet. taking a quick break. then back to the grind. the table's.. sufficing. nobody's been hit yet. we're just freaking out a bit at how close the arrows are getting to our fingers.

1:12 AM turned the corner. the red carpet's a tongue. of course it is. the arrows have stopped. the guards are just watching us now. why oh. 'cause there's two halberd horsemen waiting at the door to the keep, at the other end of this long stretch. and with the disguise gone, we can see they're morphed into their horses, like hideous centaurs. their armor is grafted onto their skin, a sharp carapace. they roar. they hiss. they click. they stare us down. ohhhh god. donnie "I'll take the one on the left." r. really? "you take the one on the right." we're doing this? "don't doubt us now, jordan. we can do this. we have to." sigggghhhhh. u_u "buck, you back us up however you can, but we'll keep their attention." sword at the ready. "let's rip and tear."

1:13 AM SLASH swipe dodge NEIGGGGHHHHH wait SLASH WHIIIIIIINNNNYYYYYYYYYY take the fucking horse legs out eliminate his mobility STRIKE at his halberd pushhh back sword knocked out of my hands uh uh buck grabbed the centaur's head exerting great effort snapped his neck. "fucking hate these bastards."

1:14 AM donnie's having some trouble, as she just has a blunt weapon now we can back her up slice the horse's legs buck grabbed the halberd, can't rip it out as it is the horseman's hands but he can hold it still while I send my sword through his head!!! and that's how you do it.

1:15 AM when we were all finished high-fiving each other and letting out our adrenaline, we remembered the next challenge is in a "church" outside the throne room. there's the closed door to the keep at the far end of this stretch, but there's four sets of doors on either side too. will have to just try them all.

1:21 AM first sets of doors were barracks. lots of soldiers grafted to their beds in a big connected system of flesh. shut that door immediately. second sets of doors were armories. I swapped out my rusted sword for a shinier one. donnie grabbed a big hammer. buck wanted a gun, but they don't have any of those. so he said he's fine with his fists. third sets of doors, however, were churches. two identical parallel churches. aisles of pews leading up to altars. the right-side church has a priest in a cloak waiting for us.

1:22 AM "Good cavaliers. You are here to challenge the king. I am Ponos, the king's trusted" deesus? diseuse. Well. Actually. We're here to protect the king, we don't want to decode the last Cipher. buck "You what?" ponos "Your party is not of one mind. This must be remedied, or else you will never make it out of this." buck, listen, man. yeah. we were never gonna kill the cipher. we're here because you guys, your buddies, were going to do it, and we needed to stop that from happening. buck "Why the fuck would you lie to us?" Well, we were hardly gonna be able to stop all four of you! Or even two of you! "Man, that's... fucked up. You really think the Ciphers are gonna make things worse?" I really do. Ponos, can you back me up here? Your world went through a red sky thing, didn't you guys have to do seven big things? "No?" donnie "I don't think anyone from this world ever went into the Doors in the first place." buck "See? If we don't do the Ciphers, this shit's still gonna happen!" ...wait, shit. You're right. That is what we've learned here. How the fuck does all this work?! Why is it so complicated? All these systems, all these sources with different stories! Goddammit, Tiresias! donnie "Ponos, sorry, can you tell us what's going on from your perspective?" ponos "My king has been tasked with serving as the seventh spectacle in an unholy procession, and you cavaliers are the ones we were told to wait for. You are here to kill the king. I am not to stop you in this; my task was to link my Rhetorics to the lever at the front of the castle." But what happens when we kill the king? "That is of little concern for me, as my world will be left leaderless and doomed. I suppose the unholy procession will.. continue." hnng. So, if we don't do this, Rapture will come regardless, as it seems to have come for you guys. And if we do do this, more wacky shit will happen on the way to Rapture. Is that even really a choice? We're choosing whether or not there'll be a party before armaggeddon. ponos "Think it through, good cavaliers. I can already identify the flaw in your logic; there is an obvious correct choice. Let this be your final challenge." fuck. okay. think it through, think it through. buck "One last party before the end? Isn't that better just for the fun of it? Dutch courage. Where's the fun in just lying down and dying?" She's saying the choices aren't actually equal, I think, so it's not just a party, it's not just a spectacle. ponos "I did not say that." Well. What are you saying? "I am saying that there is no such thing as 'just' a spectacle. The smallest difference is an opportunity." donnie "No such thing as 'just' a spectacle. A spectacle is a change, it's a game, it's a chance to stick a wrench in the system." Well, what kind of perfect apocalypse would allow for that? donnie "That's your assumption, that Rapture is perfect." I'm going off of what it's presented to us! ponos "You are going off of the spectacle, and that is precisely why powerful forces use spectacle. It's the strength of rhetoric. This red sky is powerful rhetoric, it is very convincing, but until you have seen for yourself, you cannot rely on the narrative provided by the spectacle." ....shit. I get it. I get it! o: It's the very fact that this apocalypse is using so much flashy shit that's why we should believe there's a crack we can tear open! ponos "Well, it's. It's why you should be curious about the possibility of a crack. It is entirely possible that there is no path to victory, in which case the spectacle exists to humiliate you. But the spectacle is a veil, it is an ambiguity. You cannot rely on an ambiguity." Okay. So. So we should kill the king. "You were not going to leave if you hadn't, regardless. It is my job to open the exit for you." ...you could have opened with that. "I needed to make sure you were all of one mind. You have made it this far. You have one thing left to do. The king will tear you apart if you have any doubts left."

1:26 AM Only one thing left to do… Open the doors to the keep.

1:27 AM "Good cavaliers…" There he is. A giant blue man on a giant throne in a giant chamber. Hard furry boots. Grey-green robe. Big fucking muscles with which to lift a giant golden mace. Eyes glowing green. The only sign that he's gone through the same flesh-melting as the rest of his people is the fact that his head terminates in a jagged crown of skin. He sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other. The music has stopped. There's Legsteps at the walls, waiting for battle. In between them are stationed golden knights. "Welcome to the end of your quest. It must have been a great exertion, but I have some say in the structure of my realm here, and my kingdom's fate deserved a witness." We're so sorry this happened to you. "Thank you for saying so. May I ask your names?" I'm Jordan Dooling. This is Donnivan Rand. He's, uh. "Buck Stevens." "Good cavaliers, thank you." bow. "Before we begin, do you have any questions?" Uh. Actually, I'd like to know how you ended up as a Cipher. Did someone come and.. tell you that you'd be challenged? How did you take it? "The news came to me by my own God sometime after the plague of flesh ravaged my people. I had not seen my God ever since that began, and when He returned to me, I could see He was now a vessel of a far greater power. He told me that the will of the Infinite had chosen my world for a higher purpose, that I was to stand guard against coming challengers from other worlds, that I was chosen for this due to my incredible willpower and stature." Do you.. know why this all is? Why the fights? Why the challengers? "I was not told, as this was the will of a power I could not understand. Before the red sky, I would have taken the word of my God in trust, but seeing Him as He is now, just a mask for an infinite evil... I have formed my own ideas. This evil took my world, and it chose a form of attack that would overwhelm us. I have little doubt that it is using me as another form of attack against new victims." I think you're right. buck "We're not the first ones you've fought, are we?" "No. There have been others before you. Much time separates the fights, but I have never lost." grimace. I see. ...okay. I think we're ready. "I hope that you are." he's standing up. "Timor mortis conturbat me." wielding his mace. steel face. "May you fight true. May you will real." ..a health bar has appeared in my vision. atop it is a name. KING REAL

1:30 AM brass horns wobbling through the legsteps, chugging guitar. King Real's mace shakes the room when he slams it down. his attacks are slow but heavy. and he can dodge fast. he's focusing on Buck, whose bum leg keeps him slow. donnie and I are circling behind the king oh shit the golden knights are coming out into the fight wielding great two-handed swords fuck we've got to take care of this

1:32 AM keeping the knights at bay is working but we can't sustain this buck can't focus on getting a hit on the king because he's got to play evasive donnie's taken care of a knight but there's two more coming for her I've still got three

1:33 AM I now have two, and they're attacking one after the other donnie's taken care of all her knights and is going for the king that hammer must have been a better choice than my damn sword hrrrrggg fuck OFF you damn KNIGHTS

1:34 AM okay couldn't focus on either one but I chipped away at both of them and now they're both dead just in time to see King Real raise his mace high and bring it down on buck no scream, just a big crash shaking the room goddammit… bye bye buck. "Come, cavaliers! Is this the sum of your efforts?" donnie, we're gonna have to.. be smart you and me together one baits him, the other goes for the legs

1:37 AM we're whittling away at his health bar one of us runs in front and tries to attack, triggers him to wind up a swing, and the other waits until he's brought his mace down before we swing at the back of his legs but he's getting wise to this and is swinging his mace from side to side around his legs gave me a brisk smack to the stomach, knocked me off my feet

1:38 AM we're still trying our tactic, just gotta watch for when he tries to clear us

1:40 AM the fucker's JUMPING donnie dove at me, pushed me out of the way SMASHHHH as the king lands I can feel my teeth vibrating fucking bosses and their multiple attacks… donnie, what if we traded weapons, could you figure out some sword stuff, I think I could use some upper body strength to bring more force into that hammer

1:41 AM yes I am doing bigger chunks of damage with this he's clearing his legs! dodge

1:42 AM come, swing at me, big boy!!! c'mon!!! over here!!! SMASH donnie's rapidly cutting away at his ankles the health bar is below two-thirds

1:46 AM with this swing of my hammer SMACK we hit 50% and now he's stepping back, clutching at his head "You have some fight in you. This is good... you may actually be able to do this. Understand, cavaliers, I would love nothing more than to find the challengers who might stand a chance against the power that did this to my people, even accepting that this would mean my death. That would be a reprieve I have long prayed for. But you must be vigilant. You must stand firm. You must be ready for anything. The biggest obstacle in your way is your own mind, and so I had lain my challenges along your path with the goal of preparing you." donnie and I are catching our breath. "There are eight principles to hone as a warrior: View, Resolve, Speech, Conduct, Livelihood, Effort, Awareness, and Mind. And there are five mental traps you must always engage with: Desire, Cruelty, Sloth, Panic, and Doubt. As the dark forces allowed me to present my kingdom in any way I saw fit, so long as it stood as an obstacle on your path to me, I chose to test you on these thirteen points. Of these, the only ones you failed were Speech and Conduct, though you found the right Speech at the last minute. Conduct was perhaps a tall challenge to ask you to do in this situation, as murder in self-defense is the most obvious choice when presented with my kingdom's knights. Truth be told, I am glad you failed that one. I want you to kill me." he is kneeling. putting his mace down. "Do it now. While you still have a-- GURK" ..his eyes are glowing yellow now. wings of light emerge from out his back. "King Real has refused his duty. I will take his place for him." and. and who are you? "I am the Golden Light. I am his God." he rises to his feet, a golden aura emanating from within. his health bar is still at 50%, but now the name says KING REAL, VESSEL OF INFINITE LIGHT and he's rearing back his mace, but in the wrong direction? ...SMASH he broke the back wall of the throne room, sent it crumbling down with one swing. on the other side is a large garden, flowers of flesh and bone in pools of blood. the eyeball moon is perfectly visible, aligned to stare down the center of the garden. the God-King walks out into the garden. "Rapture will come, one way or another. The question is if you two will live to see it or die here where you stand." donnie gave a big sigh. "give me my hammer." okay.

1:53 AM Out in the garden now for phase 2. We've spent some time learning his attacks. It's a lot of the same slow swings, but this time when the mace connects with the ground, there's a circle of flaming light warming up the point of contact. And now he uses his wings to clear the area around him if we get too greedy taking swings at his feet. His dodges are much wider now too, he can put a lot of distance between us using his wings to propel him backwards. The Legsteps have come outside and burst into flames. No more brass horn, just electric guitar. Gotta stay alert. Gotta do it for the king.

1:57 AM SWING stab SMACK roll CRUNCH bap SLICE cut cut cut DODGE distract AGGRESS groan

2:00 AM he's raising his mace, glowing very bright let's uh let's back off a second ..crack the ground literally cracks in the ground GUSH, light pouring out of the cracks, radiating intense heat okay, this is a new one to watch out for

2:04 AM "OOF" fuck donnie's sent flying landed in the pool of blood god-king's stepping up to her HEY, YOU FUCKER YOU'RE NO GOD I'VE SEEN MUCH STRONGER GODS THAN YOU AND I'M GONNA FUCKING PROVE IT he's raising his mace, gonna smash her into bloody pulp

2:05 AM none of my attacks were gonna distract him from an easy choice so I had to grab donnie and throw her out of the way which put me in the range of his hammer-smash's glowing light aftereffect so uh that fucking hurt feels like extreme sunburn all over my body but I'm just feeling pure adrenaline right now and donnie's still out of commission so it's just me and the big guy

2:07 AM I'm doing a lot of dodging, not getting many attacks in, but his health is slowly going down he's around 30% I've gotta play it safe enough to not run into the glowies but I've gotta get aggressive when I think I have an opening

2:08 AM donnie's over there coughing up blood jesus I can't do this but I can't panic I need to.. deep breaths… it's just a dance just a big dance with an alien god

2:10 AM donnie's back up!!! wiped the blood from her lips and came to join me in this violent dance you're in trouble now, you fucking nightlight!

2:13 AM she's being a lot more careful that's good I'll gladly take the risks, donnie can go and punish him for choosing attacks that leave himself open

2:18 AM 15% he's getting frantic he's not dodging much anymore but his strong attacks are happening faster and the music's getting even more intense

2:23 AM SWIPE SLASH STAB HAMMER CRUNCH BOP CRACK he's down on a knee!! he's fucking staggered!! get him now!! get him now!!!

2:24 AM "AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHoooooooooooooooooooo" light spills out of him in bright lines, percolating and bubbling and BRIGHT EXPLOSION leaving nothing left but a silent garden. but it's strange. this isn't the silence of a battle won. I can't even hear the sound of my pencil scribbling in the journal. ...behind us stands Cockroach Jesus. Looking at us with open arms and a warm smile. He is saying something, but no sound is heard.

(Attached, in the middle of this log, is the note: "It was then, with the defeat of King Real, that the seventh Cipher popped open on my book, and I saw it open by itself. I saw, as the pages turned by themselves, pieces of paper attached throughout. And the pages stopped turning somewhere before halfway through, and it stopped on these words that you read right now. And there, staring me and you in the eyes at different points in time, were new words I hadn't written in there. Did you ever wonder why you even wear this red glove anymore? The struggle’s over. Well. The struggle IS over. What do you do when the movie’s done? The characters can’t leave the movie theater; they’re trapped within the screen. What happens to them? They never tell you. It’s something you’re meant to either find out on your own or be told by appropriate prophets. Mentors? To be fair, most aren’t meant for struggle. Movies are meant to remain within the screen with little crossover with reality. 'Reality.' Let’s not get existential here. What DO you do when the movie’s over? The story ends when the moral has been delivered; it wouldn’t make a good movie if we saw what happ Well, specifically, that would be entering a different theme entirely, so So so it requires a specific kind of movie. Of story. So you’ll have to find.. that. Because your appropriate prophets only apply to the struggle. No, that’s not true. They keep telling you the answers you seek, but you just can’t accept them. You don’t like the answer. You did what they said only heroes could do, you gave it a happy ending, and now you’re expected to go to the land beyond that happy ending and you can’t comprehend being normal again. Could you ever? Were you ever given a chance? This IS your chance. Is it fair to force the chance upon someone after they’ve been to the furthest corners of trauma with no reintegration process? Life isn’t fair Of course life is fair, don’t be silly. Life’s the most fair thing there is. Everything balances out in the end. It’s only in fiction where things don’t, because fiction is rooted in psychology, and psychology isn’t fair. From the perspective of the victim. Is that why, then? Is that why you can’t accept it? You were presented with a life so tainted in psychology that people are claiming it was fictional, and now you’re at the point where the story’s over and the credits are rolling. Do you want reality? That’s the ultimate question here. Forget about responsibility and catharsis, and pay no mind to the distant feeling you mistake for living. Tell yourself, tell ME, do you honestly want reality? Or do you want to go back to purgatory and the chains of psychology? ..well. You don’t have any choice in what happens, so you’d may as well just ride out the pain and enjoy yourself where you can. Enjoy. ‘Cause you’re never getting a good night’s sleep again. And then I heard a Door swing open behind me.")

2:25 AM A Door opened in the garden. I can only see blackness inside.

2:26 AM It is blackness, a great void, though Donnie and I are illuminated by a source we can't see. We're walking on nothing, towards nothing. What happens after the Ciphers?

2:27 AM Another Door led us into a waiting room with golden walls and marble floor. An electronic timer on the wall is counting down from 27 minutes. It's linked to a door that's sealed shut, and a sign. "DOOR WILL OPEN WHEN THE WORLD IS READY." Donnie's looking at me. I guess we'd may as well sit and wait.

2:33 AM We licked our wounds, looked at our bruises, and rubbed our weary legs. Still can't talk to each other, but company is company. She's resting her head on my shoulder now as I write some more. There's also a big TV on the wall, near the door. It's on. Displaying a screen, "NO FEED." If this is like San Francisco, the whole world is probably about to watch.

2:53 AM oh god. one minute left. ..Donnie wants to hold my hand. okay. :) we'll face this together.

2:54 AM Door's open. Starfield inside. I can hear my footsteps again. Donnie's breathing heavily. Into the starfield. There's someone up ahead. Someone wearing a fedora. o_o And.. a... plastic guitar. Guitar Hero III model, Les Paul. His arms are crossed as we step into place. ...Legsteps with camera heads are in the stars below us, pointing up at us. The man is reaching for something. It's a second guitar controller. Another Les Paul. He's. Handing it to me. The man is Bones.

4:30 PM Had to give my journal to Donnie. Only got my journal back now. Boy, do I have some news for you. Derek Taylor handed me a guitar controller, and as soon as I put on the strap, a giant Guitar Hero highway appeared in the sky above us. With the cameras on us, I imagine the whole world watched in confusion and incomprehensible awe as Bones and I... had a guitar duel. It was DragonForce's "Operation Ground and Pound." It was the Guitar Hero III chart. I was player two, Bones was player one. The moment the notes appeared, everything I once knew about plastic rock fell right back into place. I didn't think about why any of this was happening. I didn't think about my exhaustion from the long day. And I didn't think about the fact I hadn't tackled DragonForce in at least a year. All I saw was green, red, yellow, blue, and orange. We were supposed to be dueling, but I found I instinctively raised my guitar up to give Star Power to help him out when he struggled in the solos, even though that's how Rock Band works and not Guitar Hero. And he got what I was trying to do and grinned at me, raising his own guitar. Together, we were giving the world a soundtrack of power metal. ...but, yeah, I won. Kicked his ass. :3 When "PLAYER TWO ROCKS!" appeared on-screen, Derek and I slipped right into old inside jokes, starting with me hounding him for missing the last note, and him just asking, "did I just score?" True friendship lasts eldritch boundaries.

Then the Legsteps trotted away, and another Door opened ahead of us. I introduced Bones to Donnie, and Donnie to Bones. And before we entered the Door together, I looked at Bones and asked if he was here to stay this time. "I could ask the same about you." And we stepped out into the streets of Los Angeles, Legsteps faintly thumping in the distance. As if Bones even being there in the first place wasn't enough of a surprise, he took us to a safehouse where two others were waiting to meet us. "They were traveling together and just kinda ran into me the other day? We got split up when a Door took me to the starfield, but I was planning on coming back to them anyway." One was another guy, younger than me, with curly black hair and a machete. Name's Danny Finnegan. And the other was a girl about my age, in a white shirt and sleek black vest and tie, with sandy blonde hair and a.. gardening implement of some sort. Her name's Rauri McGanna. But I know her as Fentzy. It was. My damn. AIM friends??? I literally could not believe it. Thought this was a Fear playing a trick on me. We kinda forgot about doing anything and just idly wandered awhile, sharing experiences.

Shortly after the apocalypse started, Derek was intrigued by Xanadu, so he took to the rabbit holes, becoming "a creature of the Doors." He spent as much time as he could within the alien universe, spotting patterns in the passages within, to the point where he began to understand how to predict where he was being taken. He’s spent all this time avoiding combat when he can, but when he was forced into danger, he made quick use of his personal Les Paul guitar controller. That explains why his is still intact. >.> Danny, meanwhile, had been staying in the Carolinas before the Archangel took his loved one, and he chased him out west. He spent a lot of that time alone, and ran into Fentzy somewhere in Kansas, the two electing to stick together. Fentzy, then, started in Connecticut, tried surviving in New York for a while, and left (quite a while before Donnie and I made it there), traveling with her sister Dwyn. Those two didn't care about the hardships of the road so long as they were together, but. I mean, Dwyn isn't here, and Fentzy doesn't want to talk about that. She did meet up with Danny, and the two crossed the rest of America. They were actually trying to get to San Francisco to volunteer with the RAF, but they missed a truck. By the time they got here, San Francisco was just a big crater, and they went to Los Angeles instead. Donnie and I had to, uh, explain what happened with that. Meeting up with Bones was purely coincidence. Meeting up with each other was. Meeting up with me was. But, I mean, they'd each met a lot of strangers on their travels, and probably wouldn't have stuck together in the first place, but for the fact that they had been AIM friends. Anyway. Donnie and I had.. seriously had a long day, so we were given beds in the safehouse and konked out. We woke up a while ago and began heading out of Los Angeles when Donnie remembered she still had my journal, so here we are!

5:03 PM Bones has been reading through my journals. He’s asking a lot of questions and sharing anecdotes, and Fentzy and Danny have plenty to say too, so this may take a while.

10:34 PM We’re quite far from Los Angeles now. Not entirely sure where we’re going, but Bones just started leading us, so I assume he knows where he’s going.

11:29 PM Bones tells us he’s run into a lot of Fears on his travels, but he generally tries his best to avoid them. He wound up getting marked by the Omen, and he’s sure the Morphs are after him, but that’s about it. Except for “the Neonate,” who he says he’s hunting. He’s pretty damn good at keeping out of trouble! I must look like the biggest troublemaker in the world to him. “Man, what you look like to me is a lucky bastard with a great girl by your side.” You've got me there. For once in my life, it's gone that way. But it never felt right without you around, old friends. :)

(Attached: “we came in? Wait, no, that doesn’t really work in this situation. Damn. Looks like I won’t get to use my trademark wit here. Then what else am I supposed to fill up this space with? Maybe I could talk about Guitar Hero. Yeah, sure, let’s talk about Guitar Hero. The song that Jordan and Derek played here, ‘Operation Ground and Pound,’ is arguably the easiest of the four DragonForce songs available for Guitar Hero III, which raises the question of why it was chosen for such a widely televised battle to begin with. They could have picked something much more entertaining. Then again, it was to be the first of many, so I suppose they wanted to keep the more climactic stuff for later. Which hints at the depressing fact that, for all the chaos and randomness that the apocalypse looks like it comprises of, in all actuality the apocalypse was so rigidly planned that the Ciphers were never gonna offer a way out. It’s debatable exactly how much even the guitar duels offer one. I won’t beat around the bush here: The horrible forces behind the apocalypse were just gloating when they chose that song.”)

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

[carriagelamp]

Coming in just under the wire... my top (...or well, in some cases the most distinctive) books I read in 2022!

You know, I was startled to realize that while I did read a rather nice collection of queer lit this year, I didn't read a single Canadian novel. This is the first year in a few I haven't been able to put at least one on my list... I'll have to remedy that next year.

I'll do a brief description of the books, for those who are curious, but my more robust summaries/reviews are in the monthly reviews.

Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson -- a story about an orphan who receives a birthday gift of sand from his presumably long dead parents and gets drawn into a strange, magical adventure by his mysterious grandfather

Blacksad by Juan Diaz Canales -- a crime noir adventure comic featuring beautiful art and stunning scenery

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy -- a gentle collection of affirmations forming a loose, beautifully drawn narrative

Carry On by Rainbow Rowell -- a story about the chosen one attending a magical school and his rival - rather obviously a parody but it successfully creates characters, narrative, and romance that fully stands on its own

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang by Ian Fleming -- a story about a family who buy a very special car, one which seems to have a life of its own as it reveals a startling range of abilities and cunning that guide them through adventure

Dead Voices by Katherine Arden -- the sequel to Small Spaces, the children have survived their meeting with the Smiling Man and hope that life can return to normal... however when they get snowed in to a ski lodge it becomes quickly evident their holiday will be anything but that

Failed Princesses by Ajiichi -- a classic shoujo premise, in which a popular student and a nerd have a tumultuous first meeting but gradually find themselves warming to each other and slowly a romance begins to bloom... but now with lesbians!

Fortunately, the Milk by Neil Gaiman -- the quirky explanation a father offers to his children, to justify why he was so late getting back from the shop with the milk...

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation by Mo Xiang Tong Xui -- the powerful and feared Yiling Patriarch has been killed and the world is better for it... except years later he has found himself summoned back to the land of the living, his soul stuffed inside a body, and mysterious crimes of the past bubbling back up

Heartstopper by Alice Oseman -- a cute comic showing the developing friendships, relationships, identities, and mental health between Charlie Spring, Nick Nelson, and their collection of friends

Holes by Louis Sachar -- classic novel of Stanley Yelnats, a boy suffering under the curse of his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing-great-great-grandfather, who has found himself wrongly accused of theft and now struggling to find his place and survive at the detention center Camp Green Lake

Icebreaker by A. L. Graziadei -- a story about hockey protege Mickey James III who has a heavy family legacy to live up to and is fighting desperately for the NHL top draft spot... except his top rival is attending the same college as him and isn't going to make things easy

In Deeper Waters by F. T. Luckens -- I'll be honest, I don't remember what this book is about besides pirates, magic, and queer characters... it was a fun enough read but obviously not overly memorable

The Iron Giant // The Iron Woman by Ted Hughes -- originally published as The Iron Man, this is a classic romp about a young boy who overcomes his community's fear and befriends a massive robot which appeared one day from the sea. I also read its sequel, The Iron Woman, which may be even better, and is about another massive robot who has bears the agonies of aquatic life being slowly poisoned and has now appeared to reap vengeance on those responsible for polluting the water

Kase-san and the Morning Glories by Hiromi Takashima -- an adorable series about shy, clumsy Yamada who becomes entranced by the beautiful, outgoing track star, Kase.

Kiki’s Delivery Service by Eiko Kadono -- the novel that inspired the Ghibli film; this book is about a young witch who has set off to spend a year on her own, developing her craft and earning her own way

Minecraft: The Mountain by Max Brooks -- I found the first book very intriguing, though this sequel was only middling. The character from the first book has left his island and has found a whole new world with whole new challenges, everything from new animals, a new friend, and a whole new deadly world to explore

Modelland by Tyra Banks -- my girlfriend read this together mostly as a joke, but my god what a wild ride I don't know if I've ever laughed so much at a book. This is Harry Potter but for a deranged magical modelling based society with the most insane strings of words you have ever seen in one place

Orphaned by Eliot Schrefer -- a book about a young gorilla who finds herself separated from her family and forced to take care of her little brother, all while being stalked by a strange new sort of creature in their jungle home...

Outbursts of Everett True by A. D. Condo and J. W. Raped -- an old newspaper comic about the Everett True, a man who goes about his life giving rude, nasty, and generally unpleasant jerks the walloping we all secretly wish we could unleash

Prince of Song and Sea by Linsey Miller -- a Little Mermaid story, told through the eyes of Prince Eric, with a whole new cast of characters, lore, curses, and exciting worldbuilding

Queer Ducks by Eliot Schrefer -- a well-researched and very readable nonfiction popsci book that explores the complexity of sex and gender in the animal world

Touching Spirit Bear // Ghost of Spirit Bear by Ben Mikaelsen -- a childhood classic about Cole Matthew who, after beating a child badly enough to cause permanent injury, has to come to terms with his anger through a form of restorative justice that sees him on a lonely island and in the path of a majestic and dangerous white bear

Witch Week // Earwig and the Witch by Diana Wynne Jones -- two different novels by Diana Wynne Jokes, first a reread, second a new one for me. Witch Week is a favourite, about witch orphans living at a bording school in which a note warns that someone in the class is a witch. The second is about orphan Earwig and her battle against the witch who adopted her with the intention to use her as a slave.

[girlinthetardis04]

(NOT SO) LIVE hehe get it UNDERWORLD SAGA REACTION!!!!!

Oh joy 😐. Yippee 😐. I am so happy to be at this point of the story 😐. My excitement cannot possibly be contained 😐. (It's a good thing I have a magical girl anime to react to after this because my spirits will need lifting)

The Underworld

Welp. Off to emotional pain we go. And "Full Speed Ahead" doesn't help, Jay.

Do...do you even know what the prophet looks like?

Hey it's the dead crew! Reprising "Just a Man"! AHSDGSAKDAJFEC THE STRINGS FROM POSEIDON'S THEME IN THE BACK I'M

Elpenor you shut the fuck up that was your own fault.

And the ones that died in the cyclops cave! We going backwards!

Wait, oh no...

I CAN'T FUCKING DO THIS

MR. JALAPENO I WILL SUE FOR EMOTIONAL DAMAGES

Also the fact that by the time you get to the crew members that died in the cyclops cave you start realizing 'oh, we're going backwards' like the further you go in the Underworld the longer ago the died and then he mentions the infant so you think 'oh we're going back to Troy BUT NO! UNSPORTSMANLIKE STAB TO HEART!

OH. OH. THAT'S IT. I'M DONE. I'M DONE. Goodbye everyone, I'll remember you all in therapy.

Ffs, I'm joining Hestia and staying out of this drama.

Real talk tho, Mrs. Jalapemom has a wonderful voice.

"All I hear are screams" Yeah, that would be the fanbase.

No Longer You

Tiresias, my buddy! My weird, weird buddy! I mean who the hell pisses off Hera, gets turned into a woman for seven years during which they get a husband and children, gets turned back into a man, gets asked by Hera and Zeus who has more fun in the bedroom men or women, answers and gets blinded for it because Hera didn't like your answer, then gets given the gift of prophecy by Zeus because he felt bad. Quite a life.

WHO 🦉

Wait, wait I actually hear something in the chorus! "Siren song" "Scylla ~~~" "Lightning bolt" the foreshadowing~~~~

Monster

That almost sounded like the intro to "The Horse and the Infant"

Poseidon will be glad to hear you're taking notes, I'm sure.

"I'll go where Poseidon won't reach us" buddy, you still got to sail. On water. Sea water. Do you not sea the problem with this.

WOAH NELLY, ODYSSEUS THOSE ARE INSIDE THOUGHTS.

Good lord what was that siund I felt my soul phase through my bones.

[lia-bookrambles]

Maybe not all is lost

Fandom: Castlevania (cartoon 2017-2021) Pairing: Alucard x Greta (foreshadowed) Rating: G Word count: 1988

Summary: Retelling Alucard and Greta's first meeting. Based on the script of Season 4 Episode 4, having added Alucard's inner thoughts and feelings.

Damn his blasted heart and mind for still holding on to a shred of decency and going to the aid of the people of Danesti. A bunch of villagers in need of a champion to fend off nightcreatures - Alucard kept thinking while riding hard that it was an act for himself more so than for those poor people. He’d help them out shortly, leave them with a little bit more defense and be on his merry way back to his pisspoor wine and enormous deserted castle. With rotten creatures on stakes as sentries. What a prosperous life!

Alucard saw the nightcreatures pounding at the wooden gate of Danesti and allowing his body to take control, he flung himself off the horse, his loyal sword by his side, and smashed the creatures to smithereens. It all happened fast, the rush of the fight fueling the fire in Alucard’s veins. He felt alive for the first time in a long time - being in action, doing something that was helpful (maybe not only for himself), cutting down nightcreatures like they were nothing. It was all done too soon. Not even winded, he stepped off the head of the last slaughtered Hell-spun demon.

He met the eyes of the woman at the front who had held the gate. A beautiful darker-skinned woman with amber eyes and angular features and chestnut hair. Disarmed on the inside by the woman’s appeal, he forced his tone and body language to remain cool and aloof.

“You sent me a letter?” The awed expression on the woman’s face didn’t pass unnoticed. However, it lasted the briefest of moments. Almost like it had never been there. Alucard felt a shock down his spine. It’s been so long since someone gazed at him with naked wonder. And back then it hadn’t ended up pleasantly. The woman’s words drew Alucard back to the present.

At his nonchalance her brow furrowed and without hesitations, she replied, “Yes. Welcome to Danesti.”

“I presume it’s seen better days,” he said, casting a look around.

“Quieter ones,” she added and in the next breath, she introduced herself. “I’m Greta, the village headwoman.”

“Call me Alucard. No ‘the’.” Even to himself, the tone of his voice sounded distant, half-dead.

Greta couldn’t have possibly been older than 25, a young woman as head of the village, not something usual around Wallachia. Or other parts of Europe, for that matter. Either the village recognised her as justly being worthy of leading and chose her or she had inherited the position. The former seemed to be closer to the truth based on the way the people around looked at her. With pride. And also considering the unmasked concern that showed on the young woman’s face when she inquired about Marius, the dead messenger whose steed carried his dead body all the way to Alucard’s front door.

At Greta’s display of true feelings, Alucard allowed himself to feel sorry for the boy. He said as much.

“Well, he’s not the only one we’ve lost. But he was the last of his family, which is why he risked the journey. Still, I’d hoped...,” for a second Greta had a faraway look, her posture ever so slightly slumped by a pang of grief. “Well, that’s what hoping gets you, I suppose.”

Her rapid regain of control over her emotions stumped Alucard. How much death had she seen that she could set the grief and burden of leading a village for later, for when there’d be time to mourn and process?

“I have a lot more people to save, Alucard.”

He chose to ignore the people around them eyeing Alucard with a mix of awe and fear. As if sensing the turmoil of the sparse crowd, Greta addressed them kindly.

“Get some rest, everybody, while you can.”

Alucard refocused on their conversation, inquiring about the times the village had been attacked. He still didn’t really know why he’d agreed to come and talk. It was obvious the village needed help and him being so close to it... a part of Alucard had to admit there was something comforting knowing there were people some miles away from the castle. That he wasn’t truly alone in the world. It would be a shame for them to die and desert him, too.

Greta had no hesitation on putting Alucard on the spot. “Will you help us?”

He couldn’t say Yes outright. He took a moment to will his sword into its scabbard, thinking of a way to answer in a way that wouldn’t give her or himself too much hope. “I’m sure I can do something for you.”

Greta’s face hardened, her eyes taking the wooden houses scattered around the field. His answer clearly displeased her.

“I’m not interested in magic tricks and one fight. These people are under my care. Will you stay and defend them for as long as it takes?”

Alucard wasn’t particularly fond of backing off, so he made a futile attempt at enforcing his position. “I said-,” he was cut off.

Greta crossed her arms. “You have to understand. I don’t know you. You’ve been 20-odd miles away for months. You creep around the forest. You’ve got bodies on stakes outside your weird castle. You’re obviously half-vampire and you stink of wine, and you appear to me to be at least half-crazy. But you were the only possible advantage I could think of. I don’t need to be impressed by low-key swagger. I need you to commit to saving these people. Because my life isn’t worth living if I can’t save theirs.”

The conviction with which Greta spoke, the way she determinately conveyed her trust in Alucard, admitting to not actually knowing him, the plan she came up with based on sheer proximity to seeing how he lived. She considered him an advantage. After living alone and having been through the trauma inflicted by those two siblings whose bare bones hung on spears, Alucard couldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone again. And yet, Greta’s words hit their mark. She didn’t need his trust, but she willingly gave hers. It was good enough for Alucard. Besides, he quite appreciated her response to his unplanned provocation.

In a split second Alucard made up his mind and sent a short prayer to the skies to not regret this later. He arched a surprisingly well-groomed eyebrow - well, he had cleaned up before riding, but he couldn’t help not indulging in a couple wine glasses before riding out.

“All done?” He sounded almost bored.

Greata’s lips twitched in withheld amusement. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” he replied lightly.

“Then I’m all done.” A full smile appeared on Greta’s lips, one that lit up her entire face. “Thank you.” As if holding on to not waste her chance, still grinning, she added, “And that was one hell of an entrance.”

Before Alucard could come up with a witty reply, a voice carried from the shabby latrine.

The new comer, Saint Germain, Greta was obviously not pleased with him, and his pompous way of acting put him instantly into the category of people Alucard had no care for getting to know better. Excentric man with a bit too much wit for his own good and a knack for already stepping on Alucard’s toes so soon.

When startled by noises coming from the forest causing Alucard and Greta to tense a prepare for another fight, a bunch of refugees arrived. Greta went their side to welcome them inside the barely defended village. Taking advantage of their solitude, Saint Germain whispered to Alucard.

“She’s very good, isn’t she? It’s a shame.”

Squaring his jaw, Alucard entertained the bearded man. “What is?”

“Well, such a talent with the common people, but it’s wasted out here, don’t you think?” The audacity of this eccentric traveller to throw shade at Greta’s standing when it was clear as day that she cared for these people. That she considered them kin. Saint Germain had dismissed her and Alucard’s growing disdain for the man.

“I think she’s probably right where she’s supposed to be.” Alucard was surprised at the chill in his voice, but Germain didn’t even flinch.

Greta came up to their side once more, informing them about the people seeking shelter. Putting all the pieces of information side by side, Alucard was troubled by the complexity of the situation - vampires and nightcreatures working together, unheard of.

“I am, of course, not a military man, although I have certainly advised generals and kings, but might I suggest that this village is inherently indefensible?” Saint Germain butted in, his question functioning as a point of focus.

Alucard and Greta took in their surroundings anew, the reality sinking in and twisting Greta’s features into pure worry and remorse. “It hasn’t worked out well, so far, has it?”

There was a hardness in her gaze, a hint of regret at not doing better, but also determination to do better. To take care of her people and have them somewhere safe.

“You may have a point, Saint Germain,” Alucard begrudgingly agreed. His frown hid a mind at work, trying to come up with a solution as fast as possible that would ensure the village to be better defended. A moat dug, perhaps, water from the river redirected towards it to fill the ditch, but that’d take weeks, maybe even months. And nightcreatures attacked nightly. It wasn’t a plausible defense method at all.

Alucard would’ve preferred to ignore Saint Germain, but his low tone and grating voice pushed through the half-human’s thoughts. “Perhaps, just until we all find out what’s going on, perhaps the remaining persons in your charge might be moved to a more secure location, like, um...,” the pause caused something to churn in Alucard’s stomach, dreading what was to come, “y-your castle...possibly.”

Alucard gasped, the words hitting him like a punch to his solar plexus, taking his breath away. That castle was his fortress, his home, his refuge, his prison. And the one place where he was safe by keeping everyone at bay. If he were to let the villagers to take refuge there, he’d have to give up on his peace of mind. He’d have to be on alert at all times, to guard his castle’s entrance, to enforce the windows, to do anything and everything to keep people out . And them... gathering and settling in his front yard... unimaginable.

Alucard growled at Saint Germain, reminding the old man who he was talking to. He took a moment to himself, muttering under his breath. “And God shits in my dinner once again.”

Only after the fact, registering what he said, Alucard groaned and hung his head. “Oh, no. I really am turning into Belmont.” Growing more desperate by the moment, he contemplated, “Is life even worth living now?”

With his thoughts drifting towards Belmont... and Sypha, and how he, Alucard, had felt in their company, not lonely, but content, considering Sypha a friend and Belmont... an acquaintance, a close one who could take Alucard’s shit and give more shit right back. A bond. Forged with people. And the memory of those two people reminded Alucard that people could be good, too, with the desire to the best they can to live. Like Greta did, like the villagers that called her ‘headwoman’, like the refugees whose fault lay in being in the path of vampires and nightcreatures.

Alucard really hoped he would not regret his decision later. Besides, Greta, she was interesting. He thought he wouldn’t mind to learn more about her. After all, Alucard had to face it - he almost didn’t recognise himself anymore. Maybe, just maybe, while keeping his guard up, he also let go of his humanity. Or so he thought. But Greta, first through her letter, then through her shrewdness proved to Alucard that a ray of humanity was still left in him. One that could grow back... in time.

[scary-movies-on-netflix]

GWEN (2018)

Gwen is a young woman who lives on a farm in Wales with her mom and sister.  Dad has been sent off to war.  As she’s going home one day she sees that the family in a nearby house have all died of cholera!  Things pretty much go downhill from there:

Gwen hears someone poking around their house at night, and the next morning all of their sheep are dead!

Gwen goes to look at the house of the dead family, but her mom catches her and sends her home.  Gwen thinks that the local coal mine owner got the family sick so he could take their land.

Gwen’s mom gets sick.  The doctor, who works for the coal mine owner, loans her a bottle of “tonic wine” as medication.  Gwen sees her mom draining her own blood, which obviously isn’t helping her condition.  Gwen goes to market to try to earn enough money for more medicine, but no one wants to buy from her.  The doctor takes pity on her and gives her some more medicine, but on the way home the horse is spooked and runs off, breaking its leg.  Mom puts the horse out of its misery because Gwen is too distraught to do so.  Oh, also, the coal mine owner accuses Gwen of stealing the bottles of medicine.

Gwen’s mother is laid up in bed, and she confesses to Gwen that her father is dead.  We also see the coal mine owner looking at the house and handing a knife to a dude!  That night, Gwen burns her cross and follows her mother outside.  The dude appears and drags mom back inside, locking Gwen out.  The man tortures mother, but Gwen uses an axe to break down the door and get inside.  The man takes the axe and begins to choke out Gwen, and mother grabs his knife and stabs him once in the side and then slits his throat!  Mother sends Gwen and her sister away as a mob, led by the coal mine owner, approach.  The man slaps mother to the ground and burns her alive.  He instructs the mob to burn the house, and only one person, a young man who showed some interest in Gwen earlier, looks perturbed.

Gwen and her sister escape.  Little sister asks where they’re going, and Gwen says, “to find dad.”

This was marketed as folk horror, and there are certainly elements to that in this film.  The acting is sold.  Many shots are nicely composed, little works of art.  There’s a generally creepy atmosphere, along with a rising sense of dread.  There's maybe the slightest hint that maybe Gwen or her mother are witches who will visit righteous vengeance on the coal mine owner, but, alas, no. They are just poor people. Our frights aren’t supernatural.  They’re human.  At one point Gwen’s mother laments, “steal a sheep, and they’ll take your hand.  Steal a mountain, and they’ll make you a lord.”  This is another form of existential horror.  Our villain, the industrialist, the capitalist, the horror, is a person who has everything, but it still isn’t enough.