#but as it stands he has some tough competition in death note and

[13eyond13]

Character development for my 6th year of running a Death Note blog is that I'm going to attempt to stop disliking Mello the most and find some things to enjoy about him

[alphawolfcraft]

__Hello fellow readers before you read this is have a few things to say. If you don't like Adam Taurus this fanfic is not for you. For this is centered around him. This is also a redemption fic you will be reading Adams journey of him becoming a better person. __

-Redemption-

In the world of Remnant. Zaferis was one of the many, few faunus that lived in a nomadic tribe. That traveled in the land where the grim thrived and the hunters and huntresses were few and far between. There sister tribe ,Daekrahm. Was a tribe mostly made up if children, elderly, and thous who could not quell there negative emotions because out there if you could not control you emotions. you would comdem your brothers and sister to death. By bringing grim upon you.

so their sister tribe had settle, safely. close to humanity. Not so close that a human full of hate could walk in and hurt their young but close enough were hunters would regularly paroling the area, keeping the grim away from the weak. So Daekrahm became the meeting ground for the two divided tribes and every five years they would meet for a month and celebrate the competition of a migration cycle. It was also the month were trials would take place. These trials were made for young faunus that wanted to join the nomadic tribe.

They where test of survival, control, and insurance. If you failed theses trails you would never be allowed to travel with the tribe because out there, were the grim lived, life was difficult and hard. Every year they would lose one or two members to the simples things, an infection, Starvation, or them simply losing there way. It was not place for someone who could not control themselves. But the celebration of there convergence was still a few days away. All of them had to wait. To quell there excitement for a day or two.

For now Zaferis had to focus on the task at hand. Hunting. Quill was not to far from him. A few feet down the river she was under the cover of shrubs. waiting patiently. Just like how Zaferis had tough her. Thank fully they did not have to cross the river. Since the wind was blowing down hill from the river. they could safely wait where they where.

From were Zaferis had sat him self. He could hear nothing but peaceful silence of nature, unlike. . . The mine's. They where never silent. There was always some sort of sound echoing of the uneven surfaces. Whether that be the sound of metal Picks hitting unstable material or gasping breaths for the already thin air. A click snapped Zaferis out of this thought. Quill as it turns out had absentmindedly flexed her quills. Making them click as they fell back down apon her head.

"Quill" Zaferis warned the porcupine faunus. She in turned gave a grumpy huff from were she was siting.

"Nothing has shown up! It had been hours!" She grumbeled.

"If you yell like that there will be nothing" Zaferis huffed. His eyes went back to scanning the forest line, ignoring Quills grown. Though she made no nice after that. Leaving the forest to continue is soft lullaby.

Movement from the bushes snapped Zaferis in to action. Silently he grad his bow and knocked an arrow from his quiver. He watched intensely as the bushes shivered and shook from what ever creacher was moving through it. Slowly and carefully a deer poked a head out. He did not fire. Something else did.

As soon as the chances of food had presented its self it was gone in a blind panic, Leaping away from the cuncusive bang. That echoed across the forest floor. Sighing Zaferis carefully un-knocked the arrow and placed it in to his quiver. Quill was at his side like she never left it.

"The shots aren't stopping" she odserved. Her quills were stand on end, forming a Mohawke on top of her slim face. "Why are they doing that?"

"There are still grim here" Zaferis reminded her. Her opservashion was right. The sounds of fighting had yet to cease. They had actually goten worst, Zaferis noted "Not a many as in the wild lands but there still here" Quill shuffled nervisly next to him, looking from the nice to him and back again.

"Are we going to help them?" She timidly asked.

"We're not monsters," Zaferis stated. She was off like a loaded spring, as soon as Zaferis said thoughts words and up the stream towards the distant sounds of fighting. A zing of fear stabbed itself into Zaferis's chest with such sudden, swiftness. It made him fumble to follow after her.

They followed the sounds of fighting, for who knows how long. It could have been minutes or seconds for all he knew it could have been an hour but what he did know, was that the longer they followed the sounds the louder they became. They followed the steam up to a roaring waterfall. Above them, the sounds of fighting suddenly stopped like a script in a game.

Quill looked nervously from Zaferis up the ridge above them. Did they defeat the grim? Are they dead? Or are they just injured? If that's the case Quill and he would never be able to reach them in time. The climb up to the ridge would take too long. it was not long before Zaferis's eyes caught something falling from the ridge. It looked vaguely human but with the mist, it was hard to tell. Well, whatever it was, it hit the cliff hard. Even with the crescendoing roar of the waterfall, he heard the crack as it hit the rock and disappear into the watery fog. Without a second thought, his body moved. Striping all the heavy gear he dove into the ice, cold water. He did not even hear the shocked, cry from his disciple.

the current was thankfully slow and not hard to fight, as he swam upstream toward the rocks. the visibility was low he noted vaguely, as he searched the rocks for whatever had fallen. when he did the water had turned bright red around them. he push past the rocks and scrambled to carry their head above water. a strained cough reassured him that they were still breathing. Quill was passing back and forth at the bank where Zaferis left her. as soon as she notest him she cust dropping to her knees and rummaging around in her backpack. as soon as Zaferis reached the river bank she help him pull the stranger out of the river and amenity put presser on the wound on his stomach. as she did that Zaferis was putting on his dry gear to try and protect himself from the cold weather. his lips were already getting a little blue from his little dip.

"He was stabbed" Quill murmured, "why would why is he stabbed?" Zaferis turned toward her after all his dry gear was on and knelt next to her.

"Let me see" he mutters softly. Quill removed her hands away from the still bleeding wound as Zaferis replace hers. He did his best to asses the wound whilst keeping pressure on in. She was right the wound was not big enough for it to be a claw and two clean cut to be anything else. The wound was not beep, a few inches at lest, in to the flesh. The only risk was that the faunus's small intestine mite have been perst.

"Help me patch him up" She did as she was asked and helped Zaferis patch the bull faunus up. It was not their best work but it was meant to be temporary. Till they reached camp and have sammy look after him. Zaferis lifted the unconscious man on to his shoulders in a fireman carry. Hopefully this would not agitate their all ready sloppy patch-up Job.

"Ready?" He asked Quill

"Ready when ever you are" she responded. With a nodded Zaferis stated to jog.

----*----

Thank you for reading all the way to the end. This is obviously not they end. there will be other parts to this but I hop you enjoyed it. More will being coming soon. (I hope)

[lightkidshenannies]

here's some very scattered thoughts/headcanons about the elders

Daleth - raised Alef after ushering stargazer and rejecting voyager die from darkstone sickness, feels responsible for the death of the kingdom caused by Resh in the Shattering, was closest to Resh the Edenstone when it Shattered which is why his mask is broken + beard gone when we first see his cutscene in the game (also I think it's interesting to note that in the Hebrew alphabet daleth is very very similar to alef like from my English-speaking non-Jewish understanding there's just like a stroke of a pen's difference)

Ayin - soft mans, in every way. genuinely so nice it annoys the shit outta Samekh especially during competitions, gets along best with Teth and Lamed and Daleth, WILL cry if you bring up the Priestess, brother to Tsadi, devastated by what has happened to the realms due to pollution and desperately craves The Old Kingdom back in its natural pre-industrialized state

Teth - b u f f b l a c k s m i t h, in love with the Priestess and if you bring her up it's Hammer Time, feels like a second mom/aunt to the Twins + partially inspired their competitiveness, created their prosthetics after Resh found a way to power darkstone with light, sister to Lamed, feels little remorse for what happened to her realm + temple but the remorse IS there

Samekh - conjoined twins of the Priestess, originally only had one eye each then lost their conjoined arms in surgery performed by Lamed and replaced with prosthetics designed by Teth. Both are more concerned about reaching new heights than maintaining where they've been, though Sah is more contemplative and looks Back more than Mekh does, bringing marginal balance to their aspirations

Tsadi - that big big helmet hides the dopiest face. he made the mistake of taking it off around Teth once and n e v e r a g a i n the teasing was so bad. brother to Ayin, uses the big tough guy putting-down-rebellions-and-defending-the-Vault exterior to compensate for feelings of both personal and political/ruling inadequacy, as he allowed his realm to be ravaged at the behest of his leader. Injured in the Shattering because he was standing next to Daleth, takes this extremely personally and it injured his self-image even more because at least before he could defend his realm and the next. now he feels useless, like a broken spear, incapable of properly defending his polluted, krill-infested realm

Lamed - also severely injured in the Shattering but not as badly as Daleth. second adoptive mother to the twins after the death of the Priestess, sister to Teth, totally not in love with the Priestess what are you talking about, struggles to maintain the nun-like image that she cultivated due to personal relationships with the other Elders (hard to stay professional around Family), but would rather get shattered again than break decorum around the other ancestors, meditation friends with Ayin, sister to Teth, thrilled with the invention of darkstone memory lanterns but devastated to learn what must be sacrificed to create even one. haunted by the hundreds of lanterns in the Vault - what wonderful tomes of knowledge, but at what cost

The Priestess - mother to the twins, forbidden yuri with Lamed, was best friends with Ayin. used to braid Tsadi's hair before her death, and it took him a long time to redo it after her passing, first of the Elders to Fall to the realms, which is why she's so integral to the architecture, adores the very mountains and clouds that became her realm, worships Megabird and her cycle as Holy, would have been d e v a s t a t e d by the effects of the Shattering + what it did to the kingdom and her Family

Prince Alef - I'm a sucker for Chosen Ones Who Become Corrupted. Little Alef didn't stand a chance, prophesied before he fell by the Priestess to become the god-king of Sky. watched countless children around him die in trials that only he was fated to be able to complete, and after completion of the trials most of his identity was stripped away to Maintain His Image, and he slowly adopted the persona that was pushed on him and after invention of functional darkstone he Ascended as King Resh, as the darkstone allowed connections between realms that weren't wind paths or cloud swaths and provided other assistance that we see in-game

King Resh - [longest yeah boi ever] after Ascending as King, Resh was absolutely beholden to the pressures of the realms and the other elders, pushing for more prosperity, pushing for more darkstone inventions, pushing pushing pushing until he snapped and flipped the script - we're doing this now, this insane project to build a giant darkstone to power the whole kingdom, how dare you question your King? This will surely bring Ultimate Prosperity and they will finally let me Rest... the Edenstone shattered, an overblown circuit exploding in everyone's face exactly how much of a disastrous failure he had become as a leader. he's trapped in the edenstone, suffering constant Storm, tortured eternally for the suffering brought to the realm and creatures of light. he (and Daleth) await the day that Eden can be healed, when he can finally escape that hell and maybe, just maybe, start making up for the damage he's caused. he's still Alef, after all, still a scared little boy who didn't understand why so much was being asked of him, still so desperate to Please

[jeannereames]

Honor (timē) & Alexander

I’m reading through several chapters in the Brill’s Companion to Alexander the Great, edited by Joseph Roisman (2003) and I want especially to recommend Joseph (Yosi) Roisman’s “Honor in Alexander’s Campaign,” Chpt. 11, pp. 279-321 (yeah, it’s long). I half-think he wanted to edit that collection just to write that chapter. LOL. I give the citation because most people (not libraries) can’t afford Brill books. Even used, it’s well over $100 on Amazon. BUT there is this thing called “ILL” (Interlibrary Loan), which even public libraries will usually do for you, if perhaps for a (small) fee. You can have the chapter copied, or ILL the entire book and read more in it. Back before I was doing a phud, just wanted to read all these articles and books, I made copious use of ILL at my public library in Tampa. (Also, at the link above, you can purchase a copy of just that chapter. ILL is probably cheaper.)

ANYway, I want to recommend the chapter because Yosi manages to explain quite well (in readable fashion with minimal untranslated Greek/Latin) the concept of “honor,” or timē (pronounced tee-MAE) and its importance to Greek (and Macedonian) society. Timē is a tough word to translate. Honor is only part of it: esteem, regard, public standing...all those work too. As I tell my students in Greek History, when I introduce the “Greek virtue triad” of agonia (competition), aretē (personal excellence), and timē (honor/public regard)--each leading to the next--if you “get” these three concepts, the Greeks (and Macedonians) make sense. If you don’t, they appear to act crazy at times. Timē isn’t a matter of life and death...it’s more important than that!

Yosi dissects timē in the Macedonian context, how Alexander used it to reward or punish others, and how others viewed him with regard to it. While there are some details with which I quibble (below), I would really recommend this chapter to anyone who wants to better understand Alexander in his historic, cultural context. There are a lot of things between now and then which are really different, not least that seeking timē (= personal renown) and fame wasn’t a bad thing. TOO much boasting was hubris because that tread on the robes of the gods, but if you didn’t toot your own horn, nobody else would toot it for you. (One of ATG’s flaws was over-boasting/hubris, noted even in antiquity, especially when he’d been drinking.)

As I said long ago in my review of Oliver Stone’s “Alexander,” one of the “hard sells” about Alexander to a modern audience (which I also dealt with in writing Dancing with the Lion) is that, these days, we prefer our heroes humble. The Greeks didn’t. Humility is a Christian virtue, not Greek, and even for those who aren’t Christian, that view of humility is DEEP in our Western society. Some cultures (mostly Med) still elevate machismo, but especially in English-speaking countries, we prefer our heroes and celebrities humble, approachable, and friendly. We want Spiderman. Or Frodo. Or Tom Hanks. Prima donnas like Jennifer Lopez or Christian Bale (or Jared Leto, these days) don’t get a lot of respect.

Even in “democratic” societies like Athens, competition was still MAJOR, and if they wanted equality, it was only with regard to someone else. “There are no poor men, only rich men waiting to be,” is a Greek saying, and also applies to antiquity. None of this humble bragging shit. Sophrosunē, or self-control, and moderation were also admired, but humility was not a virtue.

That said, there are still arenas reminiscent of ancient Greece/Macedon. Take rappers, or boxers. Baseball players are taught how to give “humble” interviews--”I just wanted to help the team....” But boxers are expected to trash-talk opponents. And rapper battles are legendary. Both are more legal versions of the mob, or gangs.

Think of the Greeks and Macedonians like a bunch of rappers, shouting to the rooftops what they can do best and dissing the competition.

So, if you prefer, you can view Hephaistion vs. Krateros as 2Pac vs. Biggie. ;)

Yosi explains why (albeit without the rapper reference, ha). He also explains how this often fell out in real-world ways, so it’s not just theory (one reason the chapter is so damn long). He talks about everything from proximity to the king, to officer assignments, to the importance of a royal kiss.

A couple personal quibbles, the biggest being that I think Yosi is more inclined to credit ATG with divine aspirations, without qualifying it. In the “Did Alexander really think he was a god?” matter, the problem is “define ‘god.’“ The Greeks (and Macedonians) had a hierarchy of divinity. It wasn’t “divine” and “not divine.” We have deified heros (like Herakles, Dionysos...and Alexander) some of whom wound up as constellations (the dioscuri, or the Twins), then the “little divine things” (daimonē), then lesser nature spirits like nymphs, satyrs, etc., then divine concepts like “justice” (Dike) and victory (Nike), then lesser divinities/natural forces like Night, Death, Sleep, even the Titans, then finally we get to the Olympians (Zeus and family) + major chthonic deities (Hades, Persephone, Hekate).

So there is a BIG-ASS difference between claiming to be heroized, such as Achilles or Herakles, and claiming to be ZEUS. Son of Zeus does not make one divine, btw. The heroes died, even the later deified ones. Yosi doesn’t really get into that, and I think it’s critical. At no point did Alexander put himself on a par with the Olympians, or really most immortal divinities. He expected to be heroized at his death.

There are a few other things, such as my disbelief that burning Persepolis was a drunken revel (it was calculated and planned for; the drunken inspiration was Greek propaganda), or that Alexander braved Gedrosia just to show up Cyrus and Semiramis. By that point, he’d come to appreciate boats and trade, so I believe he was looking at sea lanes. Yosi wants to make it about him competing against heroic historical figures.

But in the scope of things, these are minor. I recommend you (somehow) lay hands on that chapter and read it. I’ll probably be assigning it when I teach my ATG class again next spring (2022).

There are some other good chapters in the Companion too, btw. I especially like Maria Brosius’s on ATG and Persia.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 42

THE ROAD SO FAR

This chapter was a mess. But it's my mess.

FOUR weeks of Silence

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Veteran's Village

A peaceful Sunday meant that Roach, Alex and Soap were chilling at the house Samantha and Maxine were in. It had been 4 weeks since that Cuban incident and Francine had gone to therapy for her near death traumatic experience. If it wasn't for Soap, she would've been left out there for good.

France thought that it would be healthy to stay in a more domestic setup rather than the base so she took her time off duty to recover in the veteran's village. And ever since that day in Cuba, Soap and France's relationship was more expressive than ever.

"If we're having a barbecue tonight, we better head off to the meat shop." Alex peeked by the door, giving a heads up to the rest of the people sitting on the couch. Soap turned his head to Alex and tossed his keys as Roach stood up and came with Alex.

"Any other requests?" He looked at the group then to Maxine, who shook her head and laughed. 

"Just be back safe." She replied.

"Got it." Gary nodded and waved goodbye at them. Soap wanted to come along but France had been falling asleep on his lap for quite a while. And Maxine and Samantha noted that she hadn't had decent for days.

"Oh, Roach! Grab me a cigar maybe." He whispered, trying not to wake France up.

"Roger that." He nodded and made his way to Soap's jeep, where Alex was already waiting on him. He sat himself on shotgun and let Alex lead the way to their destination.

He turned on the radio as it played a song about driving. Roach was quick to shazam it and found out it was Automobile by KALEO.

"Now this is going to be on my playlist." Alex said as his head nodded to the music, taking him where the winds take him, far away.

"Agreed. Oh, Soap actually asked for cigarettes so we might have to stop by a convenience store on the way back." Roach informed as the song ended. 

"Okay. That's cool. Maybe add a few sodas for the girls. They probably haven't had those i  ages." He said as he turned the radio off and switched it to AUX.

"Here. Grab my phone and play that song again." Alex instructed as he drove through the streets, and Roach followed him. Playing the song again.

"Ah yes. This song is good." Alex sighed.

"Yeah. It's fire." Roach commented, making Alex raise an eyebrow.

"You know, fire… lit… slaps… Modern terminologies." Roach explained shyly as Alex chuckled.

"I'll never understand the young ones of today." Alex chuckled as he stopped by the parking lot, pulling his phone and leaving the car.

Dinner was the best part of the Sunday evening as the three couples enjoyed a hearty meal together, sharing experiences and funny stories like an extended family. Roach talked about his raccoon story once again as one topic led to another until such time that the inevitable topic was discussed.

"Speaking of fires, do you have any leads on Nero?" Samantha asked innocently as the men fell quiet, looking at each other. Wondering who would open up the topic.

"Well, uh… After his assault in New York…" Soap trailed off, his eyes went to Alex, signaling him to continue.

"Alex, it's your girl's question! Go answer it!" Soap complained as France laughed, wrapping her arms around Soap.

"He's gone silent." Alex muttered. Samantha was kinda sad she asked about it so she tried to make up by brightening up the mood.

The night continued on as the group played charades, girls vs boys. For an hour or so the soldiers forgot about their worries and acted like they're normal people living their normal lives outside work. It wouldn't hurt to pretend like that, especially when the baggage of guilt was hard to handle.

"So, Gary. I've been meaning to ask you something…" Maxine said as she assisted him in the kitchen.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"How are you… like mentally. You seem… off." She asked, Gary sighed and eased his shoulders.

"It's just… we almost lost a life back there… for nothing. Lannister hasn't said any useful information and as the days go by another assault might occur." he breathed out his worries, earning a back rub from Maxine.

"People have their limits. Lannister could break anytime. Let's just hope we're not too late." She assured him. It was a very negative statement but somehow it's actually helpful. Gary smiled and gave her a hug.

"Thanks Maxine." he said.

"Yeah. Don't ever think you're alone. I'm here for you. Actually, just last night. I had another memory restored. And it felt so important that you have to know it first. Before…" she said, her voice lowering down after every word.

"Before what?" Gary whispered jokingly. Maxine laughed and hit his chest gently.

"Nevermind that word. Back to my memory…

I…" she trailed off, looking like she was too shy and scared to finish the statement.

"You…?" Gary raised an eyebrow. Maxine took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"I had an ex-girlfriend." She blurted and paused right after saying it, bracing at what Gary's reaction.

"I- uh.. That's okay… There's nothing wrong with that, Maxine." He said like he meant it. Maxine was too shocked about his reaction. Maybe she thought about it too much.

"Like… does that change anything?" She asked.

"Nothing at all. Oh wait! Yes! It does." Gary announced and Maxine's smile almost dropped.

"It means that if I want to have you, I'll have to step up my game. I have more competition now." He realized and Maxime sighed in relief. This man was about to get some scolding.

"You worried me, you know!" He continued gently hitting on Gary's chest, giggling away all her fears. He still accepted her. This was great.

"My point's valid!" He laughed, defending himself from her hits,.like children playing house. This may seem like a simple event, but this was the beginning of something new for the two of them.

Task Force 141 Base - Interrogation Room

Price sat in front of Gabriel, they've been silent for about an hour now as Gary and Soap stayed on the viewing area to observe the interrogation. Alex was here thirty minutes ago but he left after he got a phone call.

"What kind of twisted play is this?" Soap asked, crossing his arms and looking at Gabriel.

"The bastard won't talk. Just cut off a finger or something." He scoffed. To Gary, it would make sense, but with all the cameras and the formalities, It wasn't allowed. Especially that Gabriel's alibi was that he got their first to investigate. Which was total bullshit.

"He still has his ace on his sleeve. As long as we don't find proof of involvement, he's going to be free soon." Gary commented, making Soap grumble some Scottish curses.

"It's pretty obvious!" Soap yelled as Alex entered the interrogation room, saying something to Price as they immediately left him alone. Whatever that message was, looked way more important than Gabriel.

"We've got a lead on Nero!" Alex said as he peeked on the door, making the two stand up immediately and head to the briefing room.

"Operation Eye of the Storm." Price announced.

"In 24 hours, Nero and his newfound friends will meet on a hotel in Prague. This intel was from one of the Resistance Leaders Alex once teamed up with. They reached out for help since Nero started to secure the whole city." Price paced back and forth on the big screen.

"The plan is to eliminate Nero and his allies. As simple as that. We have the element of surprise in our hands. Soap, I want you to position yourself on the clock tower, just by the hotel. A bullet to the head should work. Alex will be watching your six. Jack will be our eyes and ears inside the convention. He'll be signaling when they'll be out on the open. Roach and I will enter the building for cleanup. We only had one shot at this so let's make it count." Price briefed and everyone else murmured their thoughts, some were already thanking for a solid lead. This was it. The final showdown. The end of the war.

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

Alex and Soap already left the resistance safehouse, they had to be at the clock tower tonight, using the concealment of the night and the noise of the rain for cover. The perfect opportunity to say under the radar. Meanwhile, Roach and Price stayed to defend the place as Nero's men once again ransacked the streets just to ensure his safety. The world may have announced that the war in US was over, but Nero still had some cities under his control. This minor setback was the reason he's planning for something new. And they're here to stop it.

"Alright, Roach. Your replacements here." Price said as he stood up from his spot. 

"Get ready for the big day tomorrow." He added as he nodded and left his gun for the next person to use. Tomorrow's battle is going to be tough, and even though he didn't want to admit it, Roach needed some rest.

Despite the occasional gunfire and screaming, Roach was able to sleep. He didn't mind the battle outside the building as his battle was with Nero. Once Soap shot him dead, he would also want to shoot him again, just to feel satisfied.

0639H 

Hotel Lustig

Prague, Czech Republic

Roach hid on the west wing of the hotel, while Price was on the other side. They were both clinging on to the walls as their entrance was at the small opening where Soap would shoot Nero. Roach eyed the convoy just below him.

"Convoy's up ahead. Nero should be in one of those cars." Soap muttered.

"Can't see shit through the lens. He could be anywhere." Alex added.

"Easy lads. We'll have a clear shot once they're in the balcony. Right Jack?" Price asked. Jack didn't respond, but maybe the signal inside was too weak.

"Jack? Do you copy?" Price asked.

"Da. I do copy, Captain Price. I'm just here to get my old prisoner back. I've had him in the gulag for quite a while but it seems this is our first time meeting face to face." A russian voice which everyone assumed to be Nero said in the most villainous tone possible.

"You're too predictable, Captain." he said as he clicked something, prompting an explosion on the clock tower.

"Get down! C4!" Price yelled as the two soldiers jump out, falling on to railings. Alex landed on a fruit cart by the tower while Soap landed on the car, crashing it as it alarmed.

"Roach! Go help them out!" Price ordered as Nero's men started to circle around the two while the resistance team helped them defend. 

Roach quickly pulled Soap up who was groaning in pain. Alex looked pained too but the look in their eyes says that they're still willing to end this today.

"Let's catch up with them." Alex said as a resistance member tossed them a rifle and quickly hid for cover, pushing their way into the hotel. At the corner of Roach's eye, he saw Price enter the building, loading his gun and ready to end this as well.

Next Chapter : THREE Bullets

Notification Squad my Beloved

@smokeywhalee @enderio @samatedeansbroccoli @whimsywispsblog @ricinbach @bumblingbee1

[artificialqueens]

I Know the Sound (Of Your Heart) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Denali works the overnight shift at a diner, and has a crush on the woman who hosts the radio show she listens to every night.

A/N: I've been busy with school and work lately, but I finally finished this and wanted to share it! Please leave feedback if you'd like, I really do love reading your comments. Thank you to Writ for beta-ing!

Title from the Sound by the 1975.

Denali doesn’t hate the night shift at the diner.

It has its slow times and busy times, especially on the weekends. It has its regular customers—the group of college kids that comes every Monday for all-you-can-eat-pancakes, the woman from the local paper who comes in a few nights a week and gets a to-go box of pastries for her coworkers on deadline. It has its good points, like her coworkers and the free slices of cakes and pies the owner lets them take, and its bad points, like the rude customers and weekend rushes.

It’s pretty much a typical nine-to-five--just nine at night until five in the morning.

The night shift isn’t ideal, but it’s easier with her schedule. She gets home a little after five in the morning, collapses into bed, and sleeps until ten or eleven. Then she heads to the ice rink and trains for hours before teaching a few afternoon lessons and going back to the diner. She’s tired, of course, so often it’s just her default state at this point. But the full-time coach at the rink is planning to leave soon, meaning she can pick up his hours and classes, and then she can quit the diner and practice more and get a reasonable amount of sleep. She just needs to tough it out another month or two, and she can do that. She’s been toughing it out on the ice for months, pushing past her bleary eyes and weary limbs to keep her place on the competition team.

She’s in the kitchen tonight, dropping baskets of fries into oil and making grilled cheese for the occasional customer, business mostly a crawl after eleven. But it’s quiet, and she gets to turn the owner’s ancient radio to her favorite station.

“--if you’re just joining us, welcome to the Pink Hour! Not sure why they call it that, because I’m here all night, but whatever, I just work here. I’m Rosé, I hope all you gorgeous listeners out there are having a lovely night.”

Denali leans against the grill and sighs. She found the show months ago, flipping through local radio stations on a drive home after forgetting her AUX cord. The host’s voice had pulled her in, and Denali stayed in the car for five minutes after reaching her apartment’s parking lot just so she could hear the rest of the story Rosé was telling. Within days, that station turned on the second her car roared to life, and she didn’t even bother with the AUX cord if she was driving at night. Not when she could listen to Rosé.

Her voice does something to Denali, makes her calm and happy all at once. It helps that Rosé tells hilarious stories about gigs she’s played and takes callers in between her song picks, playing their suggestions or giving them a listening ear or sharing some advice if they want it. It brings some excitement to an otherwise boring shift, gives Denali something to look forward to. The show runs from nine at night to five in the morning, and Denali likes that they have that in common, that they’re out there doing the same shift, with Rosé’s voice and perfect song selections keeping her company.

“I’m in a dancing mood tonight,” Rosé continues through the speakers. “I’d dance myself, but I’m too damn tired--hopefully they don’t bleep that out--so I’ll let ABBA take over. My parents played them all the time when I was a kid, and this one is my favorite.”

The unmistakable first notes of ‘Dancing Queen’ pour from the speakers, and Denali grins through her exhaustion, letting Rosé get her through the night.

---

“--So I’m standing there on stage, singing and minding my own business, and then a rat, a fu--a freaking rat runs in the bar. I ran for my life and tripped on the amp plug, and that, my lovely little listeners, is how I sprained my ankle last year. I just wish the story was more glamorous.”

Denali’s so lost in the story she accidentally tips an extra chicken tender in the fryer. Whatever, a little midnight snack won’t hurt. She brings the order out to one of two occupied tables, then devours her prize the second she’s out of sight. The radio is playing a Fleetwood Mac song, and Denali sighs as Brooke, the only other person working with her, pops in. They usually work the night shift together because Brooke spends her days training with some ballet company, and though they’re not super close, that combination of exhaustion and dedication has created an understanding between them, and one of them will often pick up the slack when the other is too tired to even stand.

“Contraband?” Brooke asks, nodding to Denali’s chicken-tender-stuffed cheeks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell.”

Denali finishes chewing and nods. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Still listening to that radio show? Why not just listen to a murder podcast like the rest of us?”

“Some of us aren’t obsessed with true crime, Hytes.” Denali rolls her eyes. “And why would I want to hear about people getting murdered on the way to their cars? I drive a car.”

Brooke snorts. “Fair.”

“I could probably kick their ass, though,” Denali says.

“You could,” Brooke agrees, then sighs. “I better get back out there. Enjoy the radio show.”

“Thanks.”

Denali turns it up a little after Brooke leaves, just in time to catch Rosé’s story about the song. Denali stands still as Rosé explains how she won her middle school talent show singing that song when she was just in sixth grade, how it made her want to sing all the time.

Denali can’t help but imagine Rosé singing, even if she doesn’t actually know what Rosé looks like. It would be easy to find her if she wanted to—the show has an Instagram page, and she would undoubtedly find Rosé there—but Denali likes the mystery of it. Likes keeping Rosé in her mind and behind her radio speakers. It’s ridiculous, probably, how much Denali likes hearing Rosé talk, but every word is so expressive, so passionate, and Denali feels like she’s gotten to know part of Rosé just through her stories, like how she got a guitar for her tenth birthday, or that she likes trying different fancy drinks when she goes to coffee shops, or that she had her first kiss in her car, hiding behind the high school gym--though that story makes Denali oddly jealous. It’s comforting, somehow, to know Rosé is out there, that she and Denali are occupying the same space and time, even if they’ve never met.

As long as Denali can hear her voice, things feel okay.

---

The nights continue, bleeding into days on the ice where the cold doesn’t even wake Denali up anymore because she’s so used to it. She’s tired, so tired she almost falls asleep in someone’s pile of leftover mashed potatoes, but she’s so close. The head coach is leaving in two weeks, and the rink’s manager already said the job is hers. Two more weeks and then she can sleep at night and be a normal level of tired like everyone else.

The song on the radio transitions into the crackling static of a caller connecting. Denali’s thought of calling in to request a song a few times, thinking that it would be like officially talking to Rosé--albeit over the phone--but she always chickens out before she can even type the first number. This is the most ridiculous crush Denali’s ever had, and she definitely has to call it a crush now, given all her fantasies of busting down the radio station’s door to ask Rosé out. She sighs and listens as the caller speaks. It’s a teenage boy, one trying and failing to sound older, telling Rosé about how he came out to his friends today, how they were so happy for him and want to throw a party this weekend. He had been nervous all week, the boy explains, and found Rosé’s show when he was up at night and used it to stay calm.

“Thank you,” Rosé says, and Denali can tell from how her voice is a little thick that she’s really touched. It’s not the first time she’s gotten calls like this, either. “I’m so happy things worked out for you. My friends and family were really supportive when I came out too, and I’m glad you’ll have that support. Be proud and be you, okay?” Rosé clears her throat. “Now, I hate to be that cheesy person--oh, who am I kidding, I love to be that person--but here’s a special song just for you.”

Denali laughs out loud as Diana Ross starts singing about coming out. This whole night, and how kind and genuine and sweet Rosé was, have only made Denali’s crush deepen. Maybe she should find Rosé, message her on Instagram. Denali can’t imagine seeing her in person, hearing that voice and that laugh so close. Finding out all the things about Rosé that she can’t get over the radio.

Maybe one day.

---

Denali’s almost home when she realizes she was so busy thinking about Rosé that she forgot her phone at the diner, and, tired as she is, she’d rather just go get it now than later. She trudges back in the place to hear a laugh--a laugh she knows for some reason, even if it doesn’t belong to any of her coworkers. And then she hears the voice, one excitedly reading out the pecan pancakes on the menu, and follows it to a booth in the corner. It’s coming from a woman with soft pink hair and a huge smile. She’s gorgeous, but it’s the voice that stops Denali in her tracks. Because she absolutely, unmistakably knows that voice. She listens to it every night, its smooth sound and cackling laughs flowing through the scuffed speakers of the radio.

The woman is Rosé.

It simply has to be. Even if Denali’s never seen her, she knows it has to be her. Who else could have that exact voice? Denali’s about to march over to the table when she slams into something, and looks up to see Brooke clutching her order pad in a death grip.

“What are you still doing here?” Denali asks.

“I was on my way out when that table”--Brooke nods to the corner--”came in. In case you haven’t noticed, there’s a ridiculously beautiful woman at that table, and I’m gonna wait on her.”

Denali yanks the order pad out of her hand. “I’m waiting on her. Rosé is at that table!”

Brooke stares at her. “No, I think her name is Vanessa.”

Now Denali stares. What if she’s wrong and it’s not Rosé? She risks another glance at the booth and suddenly realizes there are two women there, and her eyes narrow. “Who are you talking about?” she asks Brooke suspiciously.

“The tiny one, with the brown hair.” Brooke crosses her arms. “Who are you talking about?”

“The one with the pink hair and the most amazing smile ever! She hosts that radio show I listen to every night!”

“Oh. Oh,” Brooke repeats, realization dawning on her. “Well, maybe we can both wait--“

“Excuse me,” a rough voice says, and Denali knows from Brooke’s deer-in-headlights-look that it’s the brunette. “Can someone show me where the bathroom is?”

“Brooke can,” Denali says, giving the blonde a gentle push, watching her trail with Vanessa out of sight and almost sprinting to the booth Rosé is now at by herself. She’s even prettier up close, with kind eyes and a perfect smile. Denali can do this. Except now that she’s here, she has no idea what she’s doing. Should she tell Rosé that she knows her? How creepy is it to admit that she recognized her voice?

“Can I help you?” Rosé asks, and hearing her voice close like this makes Denali surer than ever that it’s her. It sounds a little different in person, but it’s definitely her. It snaps her out of her thoughts, and she realizes she’s standing in front of the table in a waitress uniform with her mouth wide open.

“I should be asking you that,” Denali stammers, trying to recover. “Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“Can I get the caramel latte?”

“Of course.”

“My friend wanted coffee too, but I don’t think she’ll need it, considering how long she’s been in that bathroom with your friend.” She flashes a smirk, and Denali’s knees wobble.

“I don’t think she will either.” Denali snorts, but a rush of determination hits her. Things worked out for Brooke, so why can’t they work out for her too? And Rosé coming in here this morning—the morning Denali happens to forget her phone—feels like fate, like someone wanted them to meet. Screw it, Denali thinks. “Hey, uh, you have a show on the radio, right? Please don’t think I’m a creep, it’s just—I listen to it every night when I’m at work.”

“Always nice to meet a fan,” Rosé says. The smirk is still there, but it fades into a real smile. “But yes, I do have a show. I’m glad you like it.”

“I love you,” Denali blurts. “I--I love the show, I mean,” she says, her face on fire. “It’s kept me company at work. You’re really fun to listen to.”

“Thanks.” Denali might be imagining it, but there’s a hint of a blush in Rosé’s cheeks. “You probably know my name, but I’m Rosé.”

“I’m Denali.”

Rosé smiles again. “Denali, I think you’re pretty fun to listen to too. Would you want to go on a date sometime? Then we can listen to each other all night. I gotta warn you, though, I love to talk.”

“I’d love to. I can handle talking, believe me. Actually, you know what--” Denali slides into the other side of the booth, grinning at the excited look on Rosé’s face--”I’m off the clock. What do you say we have a date right now?” By the time she hits the ice she’ll be cursing herself for not sleeping, but she wants to talk to Rosé so bad, wants to spend this morning with her.

Rosé grins. “Absolutely. Do you think someone could get me that latte though?” she asks sheepishly. “I’m so tired.”

“Make that two.” Denali laughs and then flags down one of her coworkers, not wanting to miss a single second.

[tricewithaz]

Do you have headcannons about the Triumvirate Tamar Tolya and Nikolai all being a found family with lots of banter??

I do!! They're an incredible group with lots of interesting dynamics that aren't explored nearly enough in the books we genuinely get CRUMBS so here we go

As for group roles I feel like this: Tamar is the energy ball, life of the party, she hypes the others up if needed. Genya is the tranquil presence, often a mediator, she tends to take care of the others. She’s also the astrology friend, personality type friend. She analyzes people a lot and very well and it’s often useful. Zoya is the mean one, do I need to explain? She’ll definitely put your feet on the ground, she’s also the mom friend at times. Nikolai is the flirt, and the one with the bad ideas that always end up in good stories and possible death,he’s also the most ridiculous one when drunk. David is the hesitant one, most likely to talk someone (nikolai) down from a bad idea (although he will probably join if he gets enough drinks on him).  And Tolya is that reliable presence that will smack a bitch for you, but will also smack you if necessary.

I'm convinced Genya and Nikolai are That Chaotic Bi Libra/Leo duo. They have so much chemistry it’s crazy. They’re THAT friendship that constantly compliment and flirt with each other and slap each other’s butts. If Nikolai is bending over a desk, Genya will slap him. If Genya enters a room Nikolai will make all sorts of comments about her and wanting to kiss her and marry her. They’ll make inappropriate comments about each other and “eyefuck” each other. The best part about this is that there’s absolutely no sexual tension between them whatsoever. He also loves to keep up with palace gossip with her. Yes he’s the kind king that remembers your name and that your mom recently broke her leg. Yes he knows you were seen with the neighbors gardener last Tuesday after hours. Everyone’s just used to it. Nikolai and Tamar have a similar dynamic but a bit tamer.

Zoya and David’s dynamic is better than you would expect and they spend a surprising amount of time together. Mostly in silence, maybe she's reading, he's working, they exchange some chatter but nothing that goes on for too long. They mostly sit in silence together and only talk about significant things, it’s perfect for them. They truly consider each other a friend and trust each other. 

Tolya is definitely the one with the poetic wise advice, but it hides a lot of tough love. He’s super observant and can read people’s feelings super well. He won’t really say anything unless they actually talk to him but he’ll definitely throw in some comments hidden as poetry. 

Tamar is way blunter about it, if she thinks someones being a bitch, they will KNOW. She’s also the one everyone goes to if they need sincere love advice. 

Oh Nikolai and Tolya will swordfight a LOT, for pure entertainment for no reason whatsoever. They do it in weird places too, if a room in the palace is closed....they’re probably fighting there. They do it for HOURS and HOURS until none of them can stand anymore. They also have a weird ammount of sexual tension but its purely one sided on nikolais part

Nikolai and David being nerds.....what a concept......weve seen them literally design a full neon ship from scratch in rear...leigh....please....give us more....pleASE...like, just for entertainment. I feel like they will spend entire afternoons and nights designing and constructing their lil steampunk toys and whatnot. 

Girls nights get crazy (affectionate)

Boys nights get crazy (derogatory)

They like to play a lot, like they'll do board games, and they'll play sports together and shit, and they’re super competitive. Nikolai often plays chess with genya or David, sometimes with zoya too but not that much. Theyll all play cards together, maybe row at the lake too, sometimes they’ll compete swimming. Nikolai Tamar and Zoya are also the kind of people to really love a challenge so you can imagine how that tends to end. Sometimes they bet on it too.

Zoya!!!! acts of service as a love language!!! shell bring you tea and put a blanket over you if you fall asleep!!! its so cute but no one ever mentions it, shell never admit it. 

Dont!!! get me started about the partying. Actually you asked this so deal with the consequences. As I said, nikolai is the craziest one and if you leave him to be something will probably end up on fire. He dances with tamar and genya a LOT. i mean, he does it when he’s sober, but esPECIALLY when drunk. Not so much with Zoya cause if they get too close in such a state something might happen that they both regret in the long run.  And hell flirt with tolya unsuccessfully ace tolya rights .  Tamar also gets batshitcrazy and will indulge him in his bullshit before someone else stops them. David is a bit of a quiet drunk but he has a great time regardless. The girls together are a bLAST, they sing, they dance, they go full on abba at times. Zoya flirts a LOT with Nikolai but he tries rEALLY hard to contain himself. 

I feel like they also share books and opinions about them a lot. They get real passionate about it. And they leave little notes in the pages. If Nikolai is reading a book David gave to him hell find notes that will say “when you finish this chapter come talk to me” “what do you think of this??” and shit like that. Zoya Nikolai and David particularly like murder mysteries, Tamar Nikolai and Genya share adventure books, Genya Zoya Tamar and Tolya all like romance books. Sometimes theyll also read non fiction, it’s not uncommon to see David and Genya comment a chemistry book they've read recently for example. 

I think thats all for now but I do think about these six a lot so idk 

[justforbooks]

Sean Connery, Oscar Winner and James Bond Star, Dies at 90

Sean Connery, the Scottish-born actor who rocketed to fame as James Bond and became one of the franchise’s most popular and enduring international stars, has died. He was 90.

Connery, long regarded as one of the best actors to have portrayed the iconic spy, was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 2000 and marked his 90th birthday in August. His death was confirmed by his family, according to the BBC, which notes that the actor died in his sleep while in the Bahamas. It’s believed he had been unwell for some time. His last acting role had been in Stephen Norrington’s “The League of Extraordinary Gentleman” (2003).

Connery was an audience favorite for more than 40 years and one of the screen’s most reliable and distinctive leading men. The actor was recently voted the best James Bond actor in an August Radio Times poll in the U.K. More than 14,000 voted and Connery claimed 56% of the vote. Global tributes poured in for Connery on Saturday following news of his death.

In a statement, Bond producers Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli said Connery “was and shall always be remembered as the original James Bond whose indelible entrance into cinema history began when he announced those unforgettable words, ‘The name’s Bond… James Bond.’

“He revolutionized the world with his gritty and witty portrayal of the sexy and charismatic secret agent. He is undoubtedly largely responsible for the success of the film series and we shall be forever grateful to him,” said the producers.

However, Connery — who made his debut in the first Bond film, “Dr. No” (1962) — also transcended Ian Fleming’s sexy Agent 007, and went on to distinguish himself with a long and mature career in such films as “The Wind and the Lion” (1975), “The Man Who Would Be King” (1975) and “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” (1989).

His turn as a tough Irish cop in Depression-era Chicago in Brian De Palma’s “The Untouchables” (1987) brought him a supporting actor Oscar.

Even as he entered his seventh decade, Connery’s star power remained so strong that he was constantly in demand and handsomely remunerated. In 1999 he was selected People magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Century, and from his 007 days to “Entrapment” (1999), opposite the much-younger Catherine Zeta-Jones, his screen roles more than justified the choice. Age seemed only to intensify his sex appeal and virility.

In his early career, his physique was his main asset as he modeled and picked up acting jobs where he could. In 1956, he landed the role of a battered prizefighter in the BBC production of “Requiem for a Heavyweight.” Good notices brought him to the attention of the entertainment community, and his first film was “No Road Back,” a B crime movie in 1956. He seemed doomed to play the hunk to ageing leading ladies, as he did opposite Lana Turner in “Another Time, Another Place,” or roles that stressed his looks such as “Tarzan’s Great Adventure” in 1959.

It was easy to dismiss him in films like “Darby O’Gill and the Little People,” but his Count Vronsky to Claire Bloom’s Anna Karenina on the BBC brought him some respect and the kind of attention needed to raise him to the top of the Daily Express’ poll of readers asked to suggest the ideal James Bond.

After an interview with producers Albert Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, he landed the role without a screen test, according to Saltzman. It was a controversial choice at the time, as Connery was an unknown outside Britain. But 1962’s “Dr. No,” the first of the Bond films, made him an international star.

His stature grew with the ever more popular sequels “From Russia With Love,” “Goldfinger” and “Thunderball,” which arrived over the next four years. Bond gave Connery a license to earn; he was paid only $30,000 for “Dr. No” but $400,000 for Alfred Hitchcock’s ��Marnie” and was soon getting $750,000 a film.

His initial efforts to break out of the Bond mold, however, proved fruitless. Films like “A Fine Madness,” “Shalako” and “The Molly Maguires” were well-intentioned attempts that did nothing to shake Connery as Bond from the public consciousness. After 1967’s “You Only Live Twice,” he left the Bond franchise, but he was coaxed back for 1971’s “Diamonds Are Forever.” He looked old for the role, and the series seemed tired, so with that, he left Bond behind — though money would tempt him back once last time in 1983 for “Never Say Never Again.”

He took a major misstep with sci-fi film “Zardoz,” and his career seemed to be foundering.

But he bounced back in 1974 with a supporting role in “Murder on the Orient Express” and the following year with “The Wind and the Lion” and “The Man Who Would Be King,” two bold adventures featuring a mature, salt-and-pepper-bearded Connery. “Robin and Marian” (1976) opposite Audrey Hepburn was not a popular success, but critics embraced it, and the film cemented Connery’s reputation as a versatile, serious screen actor.

In the late 1970s, there were more missteps such as “Meteor,” “A Bridge Too Far” and “Cuba.” But he scored in Terry Gilliam’s “Time Bandits.” It wasn’t until after his last Bond film that his standing as a box office star caught up to his critical reputation, thanks mostly to two huge worldwide hits: “Highlander,” which was not a big hit in the U.S., and “The Name of the Rose,” which was also much more popular abroad.

BAFTA gave him a best actor award for “Name of the Rose,” and he received his Oscar for “The Untouchables.” After that, he was an instant greenlight any time he agreed to take a role even if some of them, such as “The Presidio,” and “Family Business,” were not so hot.

Pairing Connery and Harrison Ford as father and son in the third “Indiana Jones” film was an inspired move, and the film grossed almost half a billion dollars worldwide.

Meanwhile, “The Hunt for Red October,” in which Connery played a defecting Soviet sub captain, was also a major hit in 1990.

By the 1990s, he was so popular that his uncredited cameo as King Richard in “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” became one of the film’s highlights.

He was still a force to contend with in the foreign market, as “Highlander 2,” “Medicine Man,” “Rising Sun,” “Just Cause” and “First Knight” proved over the next several years. His salary was regularly $5 million and above.

One setback was a bout with throat cancer in the early 1990s, but Connery rebounded with a burst of activity. He starred with Nicolas Cage in 1996 actioner “The Rock,” playing a character that drew more than a little on his history as James Bond. In 2000, he essayed a very different role and received positive reviews for “Finding Forrester,” playing a reclusive writer who bonds with a young black basketball player who’s an aspiring scribe himself.

Nevertheless, he continued with action roles well after his 70th birthday, playing the legendary adventurer Allan Quatermain in 2003’s “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.” He announced his retirement in 2005. He voiced a James Bond videogame the same year, and he subsequently did some other voice acting, playing the title character in the animated short “Sir Billi the Vet” and reprising the role in 2010 for “Sir Billi,” which he also exec produced.

Thomas Sean Connery was born of Irish ancestry in the slums of Edinburgh on Aug. 25, 1930. Poverty robbed him of an education, and by his teens he’d left school and was working as an unskilled laborer.

At 17, he was drafted into the Royal Navy, but he was discharged three years later due to a serious case of ulcers.

He returned to Edinburgh and worked a variety of jobs, including as a lifeguard. He took up bodybuilding and placed third in the 1950 Mr. Universe competition.

After moving to London, he learned of an opening in the chorus of “South Pacific.” He took a crash dancing and singing course and, surprisingly, landed the role, in which he stayed for 18 months. He was “hooked,” he said, but spent several years paying his dues in small repertory companies in and around London before anyone else became hooked on him.

Connery was devoted to his native Scotland and used his stature to press for the re-establishment of a Scottish parliament. When the body reconvened in 1999, 296 years after its last meeting, Connery was invited to address the first session, where he was greeted with a thunderous ovation. The next year, when he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II — an honor he called “one of the proudest days of my life” — he asked that the investiture be performed in Edinburgh.

Connery published his autobiography, “Being a Scot,” co-written with Murray Grigor, in 2008. Besides his knighthood and his Academy Award, he received many kudos over his long career, including the Kennedy Center Honors in 1999 and the American Film Institute’s lifetime achievement award in 2006.

Connery was married to actress Diane Cilento from 1962-73. The couple divorced in 1973 and Cilento died in 2011. Connery is survived by his second wife, painter Micheline Roquebrune, whom he married in 1975; his son by Cilento, actor Jason Connery; and a grandson from Jason’s marriage to actress Mia Sara.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 7: The Invisible Cage

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  Loki and his servant discuss the nature of freedom.

You found yourself hiding in your apartment for several hours that day. Loki had gotten a call-the first you could remember-and had instantly bid you leave his presence. In fact, he said he would have preferred you leave the building altogether, but it was suddenly pouring outside, so you'd opted to hide out in your room instead.

You didn't know what would cause him to act that way, but you'd tried to use the time to take a nice relaxing nap. But the sound of rushing wind had rattled the tower, and someone had entered Loki's apartment without bothering to be quiet about it.

Shortly after that, the shouting had begun.

So much for napping.

You opened your door just a crack, and peered out into the round living space down the hall.

Thor was there.

THE Thor, the God of Thunder himself, the only man you'd ever thought might make a good case for monarchy.

He was pacing back and forth in front of Loki, gesticulating broadly, both of them speaking in raised voices. You didn't understand the language at all, it was round and bouncy, with long rolled R's, and rock hard consonants. They didn't seem to be fighting; this was not a shouting match with each other. This looked like shared anger, a common indignance over some other subject.

They discussed loudly with one another, Thor standing across from Loki, around the little table where you shared meals. He was drawing something in a note book, tapping the paper for emphasis, while Loki took up the pen and drew something else. Eventually, the loudness died down, both men becoming absorbed in whatever plan or problem they were going over, and you hid back away in your rooms, satisfied that there wasn't going to be a fight.

They were more than a little frightening when they shouted. There was power in those ancient voices, and it jellied your insides. What must it have been like for people, hundreds of years ago, to hear these beings speak? It wasn't surprising that bygone societies had been built around them.

Thor left eventually, with grim laughter, but seemingly on good terms. When you slunk back out into the hallway, Loki remained at the table, writing in his notebook. He seemed tense, but not angry.

“So...” You started. Loki blew out a long breath.

“I desire some kind of sweet confection.” He said. “If you do not already know how, please learn to make some kind of cake or cookie, and then do so.”

“And then...”

“And then eat some with me.”

Dismissal then. So be it. He'd tell you, or he wouldn't, what business was it of yours?

It was time to level up. It was time to learn how to make cookies.

                                                                         ******

You knew that if this were a movie, or TV show, smoke would billow out once you opened that oven, and your cookies would all be burnt. But that's not what this was, and your cookies were actually fine. A little flat and crispy around the edges, but perfectly tasty. Loki seemed to take extra pleasure in their crunchiness, a detail you filed away for later. He was still agitated, but it was like a swift current at the bottom of a calm stream. You found yourself a bit afraid to step in.

“What do you think freedom is?” He asked abruptly. He'd been back into his extra-long-titled philosophy books again. You'd been trying to convince him to move on from Keirkegaard, but the existentialism spoke to him.

He'd had you sit with him next to his huge fireplace, and sing a few times now, and he even translated excerpts from his books for you in order to discuss them with you. He liked your somewhat cynical, layman's view on these lofty subjects, even seemed to find validity in your sometimes frustrated “I don't know, why should it matter?” answers. This time you thought about it for a while.

“I think it doesn't actually exist. It's an unobtainable idea.” You said.

“Care to expand?”

“Well, okay. So what is freedom? That's a really tough question, right? Like, for some people, its 'not being discriminated against because of skin color' or something like that. For others, it as simple as financial stability. But both of those have something in common with what I think is the average definition, which is 'not being beholden to capricious authority figures'. But is that even possible? I mean, say you're a king.

Not literally!” You exclaimed, as Loki opened his mouth. “But as a king, there's supposedly no higher power than you in all the land, right? But...you also have responsibilities. Burdens. You have to rule, and you have to do it well, or you won't be king for long. You still, in some part, owe your time and effort to the people you rule. You aren't free. You can't just do whatever you want, whenever you want. The people won't put up with it. Eventually, they'll rise up an overthrow you, maybe even kill you. It happened a lot.

But if you go with the Divine Right idea, even though you're telling the peasants that they have to do whatever you say because it's God's will, it's still admitting that you answer to a higher power. Therefore, you are not free, because you are under the authority of a deity and supposedly have to abide by their rules and doctrines. If you don't, your Divine right to rule may be revoked and again, if you have ruled poorly, you'll be overthrown and killed.

You can't even reach freedom by removing yourself from the chains of society. Take yourself off to some deserted place with no other people around, and you can do whatever you want, right? Except you still have to eat. You still need shelter. You still have to spend a lot of time dealing with those things. You are still trapped by the laws of nature. Try to defy them, and you will be killed.

Even in death...either there's no afterlife, and you just stop existing at all, and therefore can't engage in concepts such as freedom, or there is an afterlife, but it follows the rules of the god who created it, and you have to follow those rules while you're there. There's no such thing as true freedom. It can't be achieved.”

“How does that make you feel?” Loki asked softly.

You shrugged. “Not as frustrated as I should, I guess. I don't feel strongly about it. What am I supposed to do about it, rebel?”

“Isn't that what your parents did?”

“Yeah, and they're both dead!” You exclaimed. Loki fell quiet.

“I'm sorry.” You said. “It's just that everyone who finds out about them expects me to be like them, but I'm just not. I'm not their opposite, but I'm not...them.”

“What happened to them?” He inquired. “I don't actually know about them, save for what you have alluded to.”

“You have a phone, right? Look up the 'Joyful Liberation Compound'. I'll clean up these cookies.”

You washed the dishes and cleaned up all the flour and crumbs. When you joined him at the table again, he was staring at his phone, expression grim.

“Yeah.” You said.

“You are the only survivor.” He stated.

“Yeah, because I ran away when I turned seventeen. Had to smuggle myself out in the back of a supply truck. They didn't let us back outside once we came in. Only very carefully vetted individuals, high in the pecking order were allowed back into the outside world, and then only to recruit or bring back supplies that we couldn't create at the compound. 'Liberation' was right in the name, but we were very Not Free.”

“Brave little thing.” Loki said. “It must have been very difficult to make that choice.”

“We joined when I was fifteen.” You said. “I was only there for two years. Not like the other kids, who were raised there, or spent most of their lives there. They didn't know anything else. Now they never will.”

“Your government baffles me sometimes.” Loki said. “Billionaire slavers are elevated rather than criminalized, yet they're perfectly prepared to raze an entire compound to the ground? With everyone inside? Even the children?”

“They were an accelerationist cult.” You pointed out. “They thought the end of American civilization was coming, and that they were supposed to help bring it about.”

“And your government is full of dominionists and fascists.” Loki pointed back. “This seems nothing more than one civil deconstructionist cult destroying the competition while it is still small.”

“Yeah, it sucks all around.” You agreed heatedly. “That's what happens when you have one set of laws for a favored class of people, and another for everyone else. The scum rises to the top and then chokes out everyone else...Sorry.”

Loki regarded you sourly. “You speak very freely, brave thing.”

“Is it different where you come from?” You asked.

“Yes, actually. We have an unbroken line of succession that oversees a thriving and prosperous culture, kept that way by firm, yet judicious leaders.”

“You tried to take over a whole planet by force!”

“I intended to fix your crumbling infrastructure and even out your unbelievable inequality issues.” Loki insisted.

“By enslaving us all? Making us all equally subservient to you?”

“There is a difference between bravery and foolishness.” He warned. “I meant to rule as a benevolent god. You do not wish to see me vengeful!”

You snapped your mouth shut. His Alpha scent intensified when he exerted his personality, but it was the power in his voice that shivered through you.

You hated that. You hated it. The scent made you so uncomfortable, dredged up so many tainted memories. And the vocal power of an Old God squelched your spirit. You sat, still and quiet, practically radiating resentment.

After a few moments of extremely uncomfortable silence, Loki sighed.

“It would not have worked.” He admitted. “My intentions were not pure. I would certainly have tried, yes, I would have given my best effort, but there were...other...factors.”

“What other factors?” You asked. Hadn't your real boss, the one that paid you, the Tony Stark one, asked you to find out things about this exact subject?

Also, you were curious. What was the secret? What had brought the great god Loki low?

His mouth opened and then closed. No sound came out. As you watched in growing confusion, his face began to twitch, twisting into a grimace, his eyes filling with frustration. Breath hissed through bared teeth, his fists clenching over the armrests of his wheelchair. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loki? Loki! Stop!” You exclaimed. “Stop, you don't have to! Stop!”

Loki let out a groan of pain, then shoved you away when you grabbed his hand. You fell right on your rear.

“Get out of here!” Loki roared. “Get out of my sight, and do not show your face again today!”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed to your apartment, slamming the door behind you. Your organs felt like water, as you slid down the back of your door, flinching at the sounds of destruction coming from outside.

What was that? What had just happened? Did it hurt him to try to speak of what happened to him? It had seemed like some painful, physical battle. You fumbled for your phone and called your real boss.

[kaaras-adaar]

Kaaras and the Valo-kas

//  Kaaras is NOT a member of the Valo-Kas. For long term RP partners, they most likely know this (or for those who have read over Kaaras’ profile). I did have him in contact with them prior, but it’s easier to have Kaaras as a stand alone character without the ties to the Valo-Kas. So I’d like to shed some light on his mercenary life.

When Kaaras was only five, he came into his magic. At the markets in Ferelden, a group of older kids began picking on him and chasing him–in an attempt to beat him up and most likely steal anything he had on his persons. While he was defending himself, Kaaras was backed into a corner and ended up using a force blast to knock them back.

Kaaras is a qunari, so he never would have been accepted into a Ferelden Circle–they’d rather have him hanged (or made Tranquil). However, Kaaras’ future trainer (Saarebas), saw the incident and made sure that the children didn’t taddle on him–how she did this was probably by scare tactics and threats to them before they could reach their parents, and the incident was never legally reported. Even if it was, most people were afraid to approach a family of qunari.

When this all happened, Kaaras was mortified and ran all the way home in tears. He had no idea what had happened, he’d just thought of pushing them back and it had happened, and he was freaking out. His mother and father had no idea how to deal with their child being a mage (considering they are Tal’Vashoth, only having fled the Qun when pregnant with Kaaras). Neither of them are mages, so they were out of their depth and element.

After a few days had passed, Saarebas knocked on their door and informed them that she had seen the incident, and let them know that Kaaras was safe from the law–for now–but he had to get his magic under control if they didn’t want a repeat of what had happened. Aban and Anaan were desperate for help, and she knew this. They were a poor family that was struggling to make any coin off their farm. Saarebas knew that they could not offer her anything in return for her help, but she was a spiritual woman, and she saw something special when she saw Kaaras, and she believed that if well trained, he could be destined for great things. I should note that Saarebas is an exceptionally spiritual woman, one who actually spoke to spirits–as well as reading tarot cards. What she saw in Kaaras was something, and she believed it. So she offered to help train him so he could gain control of his magic. In return, the Adaar family allowed her to stay in the barn if she was in the area–as she worked as a mercenary and often crossed Southron Hills (the house was small and could barely house them all as was).

Her form was strict and harsh. She wasn’t exactly a mean woman, but she wasn’t nurturing either. Not in a soft way. She was far more the “tough love” kind of woman. But her training is what made Kaaras so disciplined in his magic, and in his will.

After Kaaras’ father died when he was 12, he promised he’d find the remaining man who attacked their home and bring him to justice. He knew Saarebas was a mercenary, and he asked her every day when could he join. It was his soul purpose. Eventually, Saarebas knew that she couldn’t stop him, and said he was ready. If she could not take him under her wing, then he would go it alone, which she couldn’t allow.

Her mercenary group was not the Valo-Kas, it was her own, named the Ash Ataash (to seek glory). Mostly it was with humans and elves no thanks to being in Ferelden. When there wasn’t much coin going for them, they ended up moving to the Marches, in Kirkwall. Competition was fierce within the area, even though there was plenty of jobs going around. Kaaras (and any other qunari) was seen as an asset due to their strength and will to get things done. This meant the Ash Ataash stood out. After being approached by a very qunari orientated band (named the Ralshokra after the supposed death challenges), Saarebas accepted the offer for them to join. It gave them a chance to get work when it was already difficult for such a small band to get good jobs that paid well.

After a few years with them, the Ralshokra had gained a ruthless name for themselves, and Kaaras gained a lot of experience. He didn’t always agree with what was happening and the jobs, but he understood that he was in need of coin to send back to his mother back on the farm.

When he was 24, Kaaras grew fond of one of the other members, Stenn (the former love of his life before Inquisition). Kaaras was in a messy place, and for years after his father died, he’d taken to alcohol as a crutch. Kaaras often drank himself into a stupor to try and take away the pain of his father’s death, as well as sharing a bed with others who approached him and wanted sex. He didn’t have penetrative sex with anyone, in fact, his pride (and shame) stopped him from doing that, at least a part of what little pride he still had in himself. That and he’d always wanted to wait for that someone special. Kaaras has always been a romantic at heart.

Stenn stopped all of this. He was the absolute calm to Kaaras’ storm. He was kind, gentle, loving, and everything Kaaras really needed in a time of need. It was often just talking, staying up late with each other while on the road as everyone else slept. Eventually, it turned into a romance, but they took things very slow. Stenn wanted it to be slow for Kaaras, instead of all the quick paced running into things he was usually doing in trying to soothe his pains. It was also slow because of Kaaras’ lack of alcohol to give him confidence, not to mention the physical pain he could be in at times no thanks to his condition.

Gentle kisses soon became touches, and eventually they went further to being nude with one another, but never penetrative sex. When they were going to, they were interrupted, and the moment was pretty much stolen from them. It had taken all of Kaaras’ courage to get to that point, so it was smashed again, and it just never had time to grow once more as soon after, their band was under attack, and Saarebas ended up dying.

When Saarebas died, it put a huge strain on their romance, no thanks to Kaaras, determined to believe that the bad orders had gotten Saarebas killed. There were disagreements and bad tension, and in the end Kaaras made his decision: he left. Some of the Ralshokra went with him, in agreement that the leadership was too reckless. Stenn remained behind, in disagreement and rather set in his ways (he was a lot older than Kaaras). In a moment of angst, the both of them were far too stubborn and hurt to set aside their differences, and they parted. They never said that they had fallen in love with each other, and the bitterness from their parting kept them from saying it, however, Kaaras showed that he was thankful for everything his lover had ever done for him, and while hurt, they did not part on angry terms.

This was when Kaaras moved up to Starkhaven and that’s where he started recruiting more men. He became the captain of the company and they settled there doing mercenary work for the next few years under the title of the Beres-taar (meaning ‘shield’). Kaaras devoted his life to this, to making better decisions, to letting go of his hate and unhappiness. This was his new goal.

The Beres-taar were quick to make a name for themselves, having some of the advantage of former Ralshokra members. Kaaras was a natural born leader, and with the mistakes of the former band he’d been in, he was determined to give his company a good and loyal name for the work they did. This eventually got the attention of nobles in the area, and they earned a decent living.

Eventually, their name was known enough in Starkhaven that they were suggested to aid with protecting the Divine during the peace talks. This was the first time Kaaras had ever run into the Valo-Kas. The only time Kaaras has ever taken part in knowing the company is via the peace talks. Kaaras was asked specifically by reputation and having previously worked with the Prince of Starkhaven and nobles. Kaaras’ company themselves are not overly large, but they are hard workers who are dedicated to their jobs. Numbers was a must, however, so Kaaras was fine when he got the news that another band would be accompanying them.

Both the Beres-taar and Valo-Kas went to the Conclave alongside one another, however, because the Valo-Kas was more well known thanks to more years of being in service, everyone assumes Kaaras was under their title. He wasn’t, and he corrects EVERYONE who says he is and was, but this is why people assume he’s from the Valo-Kas in Inquisition. 

During his travel back through Kirkwall, Kaaras and Stenn reunited, however, things had changed between them, and Kaaras had changed too much as a person to continue a romance. The events at the Conclave happened, and they were separated, Kaaras became the Herald and Stenn remained in Kirkwall.

Everything else is pretty much known to his timeline. :)

So, Kaaras is NOT a member of the Valo-kas and he never has been. The only time he’s been in contact with them was during the peace talks. Everything you see in Inquisition for the Valo-Kas missions pretty much isn’t canon to Kaaras, however, he does keep in contact with them as there’s no bad blood between them and they were both at the Conclave together.

I will do a meta on Kaaras’ life in Starkhaven another time, but this is why Kaaras is not a member of the Valo-Kas, but why some people assume he is, and that I wanted to at least stay true to parts of the canon, but also pull away from it.

[dailytomlinson]

“I probably shouldn’t be talking about this but f*** it,” he tells me now. “My point is, I clearly wasn’t in the best frame of mind, you know? And the situation definitely got out of hand and people were goading me. It wasn’t my finest hour but it was a difficult time. I was already on edge and, in that headspace, it got the better of me.”

By “that headspace”, Tomlinson means that he was grieving. The airport incident took place a few months after his mother Johannah’s death from leukaemia at 43. (In March last year, his 18-year-old sister, Félicité, died from an accidental overdose. Quite reasonably, I’ve been asked not to bring this up.) Tomlinson, who is now 28, says his experiences of grief in the public eye have been “really tough. There have been mixed emotions. I’ve hated the fact that everyone’s talking about it, but that’s the way it is. I didn’t like the idea of people feeling sorry for me. But I’ve also felt the support from fans and people reaching out on social media or whatever… and I do feel I’ve got this ability to see the glass as half full. Because what else am I going to f***ing do?”

I meet Tomlinson in an upstairs room of a pub in a residential corner of London’s Notting Hill. He is dressed in jeans, a red tracksuit top and trainers. The only visible evidence of his previous life in One Direction, the biggest boyband in pop history, is his hair, which is artfully swept sideways as if he’s standing in a wind tunnel. An old hand at winning over interviewers, he greets me with a hug before sitting down, leaning back and putting his feet up.

Tomlinson is on the promotional trail for his debut album, Walls, which has been four years on the making. It includes “Two of Us”, a ballad which lays bare Tomlinson’s loss (“You’ll never know how much I miss you/ The day that they took you, I wish it was me instead”). In a change of mood, it also contains the Britpop-flavoured “Kill My Mind”, a throwback to his mid-teens and the indie night he’d go to with his friends in his native Doncaster.

Tomlinson grew up listening to Oasis and Arctic Monkeys, though right now he can’t get enough of Catfish and the Bottlemen: “I like anything with big guitars and a big chorus.” He reckons “Kill My Mind” will struggle to get on the radio but he doesn’t care since, musically, “I’ve often been swimming against the tide.”

He puts the album’s long gestation down to creative insecurity. “A good two years [was spent] treading water and trying to work out exactly what my sound was, and what I was capable of.” Clearly, One Direction, who sold 50 million albums, are a tough act to follow, though Tomlinson has also had to contend with his former colleagues putting out solo work before him (Harry Styles is already on his second LP, while Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne have all released debuts). But he rejects the suggestion that they are all in competition, remarking, “I don’t like to look at it that way.”

I ask if he and his ex-bandmates have a WhatsApp group. They don’t, he replies, “and we should, but we’ve never got around to it”. But he says they are frequently in touch, which must be something people ask a lot since, entirely unbidden, he gives me a breakdown of their recent activities. Let the record show that he spoke to Liam two days ago; he and Niall exchanged texts a fortnight ago; and Harry sent him a congratulatory message when he released his last single. There is no mention of Zayn.

Tomlinson says the face he presents to the public and journalists these days is fully unfiltered, a change from his One Direction days when he had to be careful not to cause inadvertent upset within the band or with fans. “No one was saying ‘Don’t do that’, but there was the [pressure] of being role models. So it took a second to understand that [as a solo artist] I could get away with completely being myself, even though I can sometimes be a bit of a dickhead.”

In fact, there are two Tomlinsons that emerge throughout our chat. There’s boyband Louis, full of sweet but bland blather about self-expression, his gratitude to fans, and the luck that he’s enjoyed as an artist. But another version of him frequently comes through who is funny, sweary and thoughtful about his decade in the limelight.

Tomlinson has had four years to digest his time in One Direction which I note, from the outside, looked a bit like being held hostage. But even with the fan fervour, the police escorts and the nonstop media glare, he says he wouldn’t change anything. “We were always in control of our destiny,” he explains. “We rose to fame pretty quick and, because of that, we had some power and some say within the record label and with management.” The sheer pace and drama of their day-to-day existence was, he says, “like a drug. It’s that feeling of heightened emotion and every day being manically busy, and the hysteria. Although you might complain about it, none of us said, ‘No we don’t wanna do that.’ We were just in it. We were f***ing loving it.”

Still, he says, the initial 18 months were hard as he struggled to see his value within the band. “I would wonder, ‘What difference would it make if I was there or if I wasn’t?’ Under the spotlight that was difficult, but that’s what gave me the fire in the belly to get right into it.” It was through songwriting that he found his place and his confidence – he has writing credits on 37 One Direction songs, more than anyone else in the band. “That’s something I’m really f***ing proud of,” he says. “Now I can say I made a difference.”

The end of One Direction was a shock to Tomlinson, even though he knew it was coming. “We’d done such a lot of work in a short space of time so a break was inevitable. But I don’t think I was necessarily ready for how long. We had a band meeting and everyone just said, ‘Maybe we’ll put it on the back burner for a bit,’ and I felt a bit petulant about that at the time. It actually hit me like a ton of bricks.” Now the band are officially on hiatus – “even though that’s a stupid f***ing word”, he says. “Truthfully, none of us truly know [if we’ll reform]. I just know what my gut says and my gut says we will get back together at some point. I think it was too magical for all of us to never do it again.”

The eldest of seven siblings, as a child Tomlinson says he was “well-mannered but a bit of a show-off. I was a lot cockier than I am now. Being in One Direction made me realise I’m not always the coolest kid in the room”.

He wasn’t good academically at school but enjoyed performing and, for a while, toyed with being an actor. Before auditioning on The X Factor, he did a string of jobs at weekends and in school holidays for some extra cash. One summer was spent as a waiter at his beloved football club, Doncaster Rovers. Another yielded a stint at a well-known cinema chain dispensing popcorn. There, he tells me unexpectedly, he was earning “an extra wage”. An extra wage? “As in taking a few quid from the till,” he says with a grin. “It all started because there was a McDonald’s over the road and I wanted money for my lunch.” His trick was to hand customers two boxes of popcorn but only put one through the system and put the money for the second in his pocket. “I didn’t want to short-change the customer,” he explains. “I’d take from the company. I’m a man of the people.”

It was his mum’s idea for him to try out for The X Factor, though it took three attempts to get through to the televised auditions. He says the experience of going on stage in front of the live audience, under the glare of the lights and with four famous judges looking back at him, remains the most terrifying of his life.

We talk for a bit about Tomlinson’s return to The X Factor in 2018 as a judge alongside Simon Cowell plus Robbie Williams and his wife Ayda Field. He asks what I made of the show so I decide to be honest and tell him that I thought the whole thing looked tired and Cowell appeared bored out of his mind. “Well I couldn’t possibly comment on [Cowell],” says Tomlinson, good-naturedly, “though I actually loved it. But yeah, I feel that, as a show, it needs a rest. There’s a place for a show like it and I’ve got my career to thank for it, but we’ve had a lot of it, so let’s just let it rest and make people want it again.”

Life has slowed down since the madness of One Direction but he still can’t find the time to read a book or watch a box set. Where, in his pre-fame days, he struggled to hold down a job, now he’s happiest when he’s busy. Should the singing career stall, he would like to run his own management company. Five years ago, he launched a record label, an imprint on Cowell’s Syco label, but life got in the way and his plans to create a girl band fell at the first hurdle. Originally he had gathered a list of 20 acts that he was keen to sign, and points out that “like, four or five of them are signed [elsewhere] now… I think I have an instinct for these things”.

I ask, rather unfairly, if the solo career of a former boyband member is ultimately a doomed endeavour – for every Robbie Williams, there’s a Howard, Jason and Mark whose careers sink without trace. For a moment Tomlinson looks stumped but then he prevaricates like a pro. “Of course, there are days where I might have unreal expectations and when I have to tell myself to stay grounded,” he says. “But I had a breakthrough moment last year about what success really means and I think I can look at it for what it is now. I have to look at how happy I am and remember that I’m lucky to be doing what I’m doing.”

[psychosistr]

The Stars of the Stage- Chapter 1

Summary:  Jonathan Joestar is an accomplished playwright currently working on his next big production: Phantom Blood. During the auditions for the lead actors, though, a certain blond Englishman catches his eye.

Notes:  So, this story was inspired by this piece of art by @corgi-shorts that I saw back when I did one of the Jonawagon weeks where Jonathan was a playwright and Speedwagon was an actor. I felt a HUGE need to write this as it was such a cute idea x3

In the midst of the already bustling heart of New York, a large theater within the appropriately named Theater District is packed with several hopeful actors currently reading over and practicing lines from sample scripts. Some are seasoned veterans of the theater while others are hopeful new-comers. Despite their level of skill and experience, each one seems eager to land a part in the production.

Through the chattering crowds and lines of people waiting to enter the main theater for their audition, an extraordinarily tall and muscular man with dark hair carefully weaves his way through the crowd, throwing out a “pardon me” or “oh, excuse me” every now and then to be polite as bumping into people in such a crowd is unavoidable given his size.

He reaches the theater doors and turns to the crowd, cupping his hands around his mouth to be heard properly. “If I may have your attention, please!” The chatter of the crowd slowly dies down as the actors turn to look at him curiously. Once he knows he has their attention, he smiles and gives a quick bow of his head. “Thank you all so much for coming out. My name is Jonathan Joestar- I am the writer and co-director of this production. In a moment we will begin the auditions, so please give it your best. I will be looking forward to seeing what all of you can do!” He finishes with an encouraging smile. He opens the doors long enough to walk in and close them behind himself, nodding to the two men standing behind the door to take the actors’ resumes and headshots. “Dire, Straights, afternoon. Ready to start?”

“Just waiting on William at this point.” Dire says with a nod of greeting. “I think he’s taking care of the lighting or something.”

“More like finishing off his pre-audition glass of wine.” Straights comments indifferently while glancing away. “Though I can’t say I blame him. This is always such a hassle..”

“Necessary evil of the industry, my friend.” A voice greets the group and the trio of men turn to see a man in a white suit and checkerboard top-hat. He offers them a smile and a tip of his hat in greeting. “Ready to summon the horde, gentlemen?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be, William.” Jonathan says with a grin as he walks with the older man down towards the table waiting in front of the stage with two seats for the pair.

________________________________________________________________

The theater is packed, the auditioning actors having taken up the seats in the order in which they’d come into the room. Quite a few of the seats are already empty, as some of the actors had to leave after their auditions while others have opted to stay and scope out the competition.

The process has been long and grueling, but it is necessary for casting the right people for the parts. Jonathan was glad, though, that he was working with William as the director- the older man often listened to his input regarding casting more than other directors did. As he often said, “Who knows a character better than the man who wrote them?”

Jonathan looks down at the piles of resumes and headshots in front of them. He has kept them organized into a few basic groups: People who had not gone yet were on the far left, closest to himself. The “wouldn’t call them back in a hundred years” pile, as William secretly called it, was beside the first one in the middle. The maybe/later consideration pile was next to that one and closer to William. The last pile on the far right was the smallest of all, reserved for the ones the two had agreed would definitely get the part they’d auditioned for.

Jonathan takes the next resume off of the pile on the far left and calls out the number pinned to it. “Number 157!” He looks at the headshots that accompany the resume, noting that every picture seemed to be taken from the right side of the actor’s face.

As the man in question approaches the stage, he can see why: There was a scar across the left side of his face. Not to say that that was a problem in anyway- the man was still quite handsome (from a purely aesthetical perspective, Jonathan tried to remind his wandering thoughts) and besides, that’s what cosmetics were for. Still, he knew how tough some directors could be and how they tended to avoid actors with visible marks as they couldn’t always visualize a way around it.

“ ‘ello.” The man says with a quick bow of his head once he is in place on the stage and looking down at Jonathan and William. “The name’s Robert Speedwagon, an’ I’ll be readin’ for the part o’ Sir Haste Dray.”

Jonathan is a bit surprised by the man’s accent. He’s clearly British like Jonathan himself, though with a cockney dialect rather than Jonathan’s own aristocratic manner of speaking.

While Jonathan is more surprised by the accent, he can hear others making quiet, hushed, snide remarks about it.

“He does know that’s one of the main characters, right?”

“Talking like that, he’d be a better pick for one of the extras..”

“This outta be good for a laugh.”

Jonathan ignored the comments, curious to see how the actor would do with his own eyes. “Very well then, Mr.Speedwagon. Which section will you be using for your audition?”

The blonde haired man lifted his own copy of the script that had already been opened and turned to the part he wanted to use. “Page 57, line 8. Can I get a read-in?”

“Of course.” Jonathan turned the copy of the script in front of himself to the aforementioned page and cleared his throat before reading the line. “This battle shall be a dangerous one, my friend. I fear we may not escape with our lives. If you wish to turn back, now is the time. I would bear you no ill-will for such a decision.”

Speedwagon closed his eyes for a moment. “I know..yet this decision is beyond me alone.” The earlier chatter and snide laughter was dead in an instant. “It is a decision that must be made by every man, woman, and child of this plane of existence. Unless I were to have every single being upon this world in attendance to answer, then the decision is not truly mine to make.” The man opened his eyes again, looking out in front of him as if speaking to the target of the monologue and only taking brief glances down to see his lines. “Since they cannot be here to tell me not to do so, then I shall take it upon myself to fight on their behalf. After all, if we were to stand by and not do a thing, then who would be left to protect the innocent, unknowing lives of this realm?” Without the earlier accent, his voice held a calm seriousness that perfectly captured the tension of the scene. “I am afraid this daunting task is for us alone to face, lest the evil that hides itself within the darkness of both the world and the hearts of mankind be free to unleash its reign of death upon us all.” The serious expression on his face softened ever so slightly, almost turning into a sad smile that tugged on Jonathan’s heart strings. “Still, even without the threat to all we hold dear in this world, do you truly think that I, of all people, would turn from you at the eve your greatest struggle? Whom do you take me for, old friend? A coward? A fool?” He gave a short laugh, more of a broken chuckle born of melancholy and sadness rather than joy. “Well…perhaps I am both these things. I do admit to fearing the fate that lies before us, yet it is not myself I fear for- rather, it is you. I fear what would become of you if I allowed you to so gallantly face these forces on your own. As for the fool..” His expression softened again, the smile on his face beautiful and sad and full of love and adoration conveyed in a simple quirk of his lips and the gaze in his eyes. “I suppose I have been a fool since we met that one cold, dark winters’ night. With but a touch of your hand, you shattered the reality which I built so flawlessly for myself. I thought myself strong, yet in your presence I am weak. I thought myself a king, yet to you I would gladly play the role of vassal. I thought myself wise, yet the very sight of you fills me with confusion that renders me as foolish as a drunkard lying on the streets. Still, I do not wish for these beliefs to be returned to me. For, in their place, I have gained far more than I ever dared to dream before: Inner-peace. Conviction. Loyalty. And love.” He closed his eyes again, the tragically beautiful smile still on his face. “So, yes, I may be a coward and a fool..but..I am the cowardly fool who will follow you to the ends of the earth and down into the depths of hell itself without fear..for, without you, there would be no point in fighting for this world at all. Above all else, you shall survive. I shall see to it, even if it costs me my very soul- the devil may have it, so long as your radiance remains to shine the light of hope upon this undeserving world.”

Everyone in the room was stunned by the performance, not saying a word as the man opened his eyes once more and gave an elegant bow.

Jonathan, who had been staring at him with stars in his eyes, was the first to react. He quickly stood from his seat, placed his hands upon the table in front of himself, and excitedly declared. “The part is yours!”

William yanked his sleeve hard and pulled him back down into his seat, whispering harshly to him. “You do not say that aloud in front of everyone else here, Jojo. I thought I taught you better than that.”

Jonathan’s face flushed at the realization of his blunder, his voice hushed to the same level as his mentor’s. “Oh..my apologies, William..it’s just..that was perfect! The delivery, the execution, the emotion- I felt as if I was looking at Sir Dray in the flesh!”

“I agree, but there is still a certain etiquette one must follow in these matters.” He chastised the taller man before turning his attention back to the man on the stage. “My apologies for my associate, he became a touch too excited. That being said, that was an exceptional performance. We have a few more auditions to go through and discussions to be had before final casting, but we will certainly be in touch.”

Speedwagon offered them a polite smile. “I’s quite alright, sir. I’m glad ‘e liked it. Be seein’ y’, then.” He tipped his hat politely before walking off stage and back out through the doors leaving the theater.

Jonathan watched the man leave, his heart still thrumming from the effect the blonde actor’s performance had on him. He’d never been so taken by a mere reading before.

Without even looking back to the table, he grabbed Speedwagon’s resume and moved it to the “definite” pile, ignoring the look he was sure to be receiving from William for reaching over him so rudely to do so.

Next Chapter->

End Notes: Speedwagon: *shows up, introduces himself, reveals his accent*

Everyone else: *laughs and mocks him*

Speedwagon: *delivers a flawless read that lands him the part instantly*

Everyone else: *jaws on the floor*

Jonathan: *instantly in love*

[mistbornthefinal]

Madoka Magica Aniversary Analysis: Part 6

Do Not Throw Souls!

We pick up where we left off last episode. Kyouko goes for the kill on Sayaka and Homura moved to action by Madoka’s distress moves to interrupt the fight. Kyouko is confused by this turn of events and tries to hold Homura at spearpoint. Tries being the operative term there. Kyouko identifies Homura as the rumored irregular. Sayaka tries to continue the fight but Homura makes short work of her.

*timestops behind you* nothing personal kid

Kyouko’s fence thing dissolves and Madoka quickly rushes to her stricken friend who Kyubey assures us is merely unconscious. Kyouko as Homura who’s side is she on to which she replies.

“I’m an ally to those who maintain their composures and an enemy to idiotic aggressors. Which are you, Sakura Kyouko.”

The two meguca still standing have a staredown after which Kyouko elects to back off. Homura then chastises Madoka fairly harshly for still being involved. As Homura walks away Kyubey ponders “Akemi homura could you be...” (cue Connect.)

After the credits we’re at the Miki household watching Sayaka cleanse her gem. Kyubey informs here the now full grief seed is dangerous but he’ll take it off her hands cutely catching it on his head before tossing it into a hatch on his back. According to Kyubey if Sayaka is to have any hope standing up to Kyouko she’ll need a bunch more of those. The more magic you use the more you soul gem is tainted, thus if you have surplus Grief Seeds you can use magic more recklessly. 

Sayaka notes that Mami also never had enough Grief Seeds yet she seemed to be able to fight just fine. Mami had the benefit of talent and expertise says Kyubey as does Kyouko. Of course if Sayaka wants to even the odds there’s always Madoka and her vast potential. Surely if Sayaka were to ask her..? Sayaka rejects that answer this is her fight.

Elsewhere Kyouko is tearing it up at the DDR (Dog Drug Reinforcement) machine. Homura has a proposition for her, she’ll leave the city to her so long as Kyouko let’s her solve the Sayaka problem. Kyouko is down for that but she want’s to know what’s in it for Homura.

There’s a bigger threat on the horizon and Homura needs allies to fight it. Once Walpurgisnact is defeated Homura will leave Kyouko to handle Mitakihara’s affairs. Kyouko seems bullish about the two of them being able to handle the legendary Witch and offers to seal their pact with some Pocky (or rather Rocky).

The next day Sayaka and Madoka have returned to the scene of the crime. Unfortunately the Familiar’s trail has gone cold. Madoka wants to try talking it out should the run into Kyouko again but Sayaka reminds her that the two of them were seriously trying to kill each other yesterday, that bridge is burned. Attempted murder aside Sayaka can’t forgive Kyouko’s indifference to human life. She can’t forgive Homura either.

Sayaka was not privy to Mami and Homura’s confronation in EP 3 and Madoka has apparently neglected to tell her. So Sayaka belives that Homura intentionally let Mami die to eliminate the competition. Madoka tries to correct the record but it’s too late for that. 

Sayaka then rather viscously lays into Madoka asking her if she could so easily forgive Kyouko if the Familiar that Kyouko let live out of greed and callousness were to kill one of her family members. As far as Sayaka is concerned any Puella Magi that fails to live up to the image Mami projected is her enemy. Not the wisest course when both the other girls were each able to own her fairly handily.

Madoka asks for Kyubey to bring Sayaka back to reason where she has failed but again the bunnycat claims incapacity. 

That night Madoka is unable to sleep her worries keeping her from rest. She seeks counsel from her mom. Her friend is in a tough situation despite we she is doing not being wrong, rather her attempts to do right seem to make the situation worse. 

Her mom says that unfortunately that’s they way of the world. It sucks but virtue is not always rewarded. Her mom suggest that she instead do the wrong thing for her friend. It might not be the cleanest solution but this is the time in their lives were they can afford to make mistakes. When you’re young it’s easier to pick yourselves back up if you fall. It’s harder when you’re an adult, that’s why adults are allowed to drink.

OK so maybe Junko isn’t the best role model.

 Not the worst advice for you teenage daughter for ordinary problems, but of course Madoka neglects to mention the part where lives are on the line. So it’s hard to blame Junko for how Madoka acts on that advice.

The next day Sayaka rushes to Kyousuke’s hospital room only to find it empty. He’s been discharged already and seems to have neglected to tell her. So Sayaka goes to his house but lingers outside hesitating to ring the bell, and here we see clearly why Sayaka’s wish “failed”. 

As much as Sayaka wanted to see Kyousuke healed for his own sake, she also wanted a relationship with him. That’s all well and good but Kyousuke’s injury was never the thing stopping that from happening, it’s that Sayaka did not have the courage of her convictions to confess. Neither healing Kyouske’s hand nor becoming a magical girl changed that. 

Of course Kyouko is there for her in her hour of need with some free advice. Using magic to help others is a suckers game, what she should do instead is go in there with her shiny new magic and break his arms and legs so he’ll be helpless without her. Kyouko even offers to do it for her as a favor to a fellow magical girl. Needless to say Sayaka isn’t having any of it.

The two of them agree to take their incipient battle elsewhere.

Back at Madoka’s hose our heroine is still mulling over her mothers advice when bunnycat informs her of the immanent duel to the death. Given the travel time involved I’d have to assume this is before Kyouko and Sayaka have their confrontation. So I guess he decided to fetch an innocent bystander rather than tell Sayaka the girl who tried to kill her two days ago was still on her tail. Say it with me everyone bunnycat is a dick.

At the pedestrian bridge that our Megucas have for some reason decided is an inconspicuous place to fight Kyouko shows off her rad transformation sequence. Sayaka is about to do the same when Madoka arrives on the scene. Homura isn’t far behind her as always and she reminds Kyouko of their agreement. This doesn’t actually defuse the conflict. Sayaka is just as willing to fight Homura despite all signs pointing to that being an even lower percentage play. 

So Madoka grabs Sayaka’s Soul Gem and yeets it right off the bridge.

It falls onto a passing truck and despite her visible surprise Homura is after it in an instant. Sayaka asks “what the hell” and then

she collapses like a puppet whose string were cut. Perplexed Kyubey asks why Madoka just threw away her friend. Kyouko rushes over and grabs Sayaka’s body by the neck, and pronounces her dead.

Kyubey explains. After the contract is made the Soul Gem is the “real” magical girl, the girl’s literal soul ripped from their body and bound into a gem. The body is just a puppet a shell animated by magic and if the Soul Gem is more than 100 meters away the link breaks and the body is just a corpse. 

Needless to say neither Madoka nor Kyouko are happy about this revelation. Kyubey claims that it’s to their benefit that they are altered in this way so long as the Soul Gem is intact the body can recover from any injury. Of course it’s hard to imagine he has their best interests at heart given he failed to mention any of this beforehand. The girls are not convinced by the supposed benefits of this arrangement.

Kyubey claims not to understand why this upsets people pegging it to the irrational nature of humanity. Of course once again he knows that this upsets people and then doesn’t tell the before or after they contract. Bunnycat is a dick.

While Kyubey is expositing Homura uses her time powers to catch up to the truck a retrieve Sayaka’s gem. It’s only when she returns her to her bodies hand that she reactivates. Confused at everyone's distress she asks what’s wrong. (cue Magia)

So that was EP 6 it gives us the second of our big shocking revelations. Though the fandom sometimes claims the girls overreact to it I’d say that their reactions are totally appropriate given the context of their friend/frenemy suddenly becoming an empty husk.

This is also the first time we really get to see how alien and amoral Kyubey really is. He claims no understanding of why getting your Soul ripped out might upset someone and understanding that this part of the contract upsets people his solution is to just never mention it. It’s now clear the he’s a malevolent force if it wasn’t already. 

This is also interestingly enough the episode where no Witches or Familiars make an appearance. 

[ilguna]

Ethereal - Chapter Six (f.o)

Summary: Five years of watching your trainees die, you’re sick of it. She will prevail, she will win.

Word Count; 2.7k

Warnings; swearing, DEATH MENTION

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You slap Finnick’s knee suddenly as you stand up. Your eyes grow wide, mouth falling open as you watch the scene unfold. Finnick jolts awake, “What? What’s the matter?”

“Look!” you motion to the tv.

On the tv is a scene of your beloved tributes. Both of them asleep underneath a tree, Paslee is propped up against the tree because he’s supposed to be taking watch after he just switched off with Annie. You weren’t bothered that he fell asleep, because it’s been a smooth couple of days.

It’s day four inside of the arena for them, day two for you. Time moves differently inside of the arena, you’ve always known this.

Him and Annie have been very good inside of there. Dotting their i’s, crossing their t’s. They’ve come across only one other person inside of the arena and that was earlier today. It was the teenage girl from twelve, which Paslee had wiped out almost immediately. They came face to face with her, and she was obviously so hungry to stay alive.

But Paslee acted quickly when he saw her eyes dart to his knife, and he finished her off quickly. Him and Annie had backed away from the body like it held some sort of plague, and found shelter a mile or two away from where it had happened.

This year, the arena is much bigger, and it’s much more beautiful. It’s centered towards agriculture, there’s plenty of apple trees littered around, some ruins of a house near the dam that sits just along the forcefield. There’s paths that were there before the games, people had walked those paths every single day.

You can take a guess that this place has been preserved to keep it in such a pristine state. Everything inside of there is so green and perfect looking. It’s rained only once inside, and that’s when you watched Annie grin and dance around in it for a little bit.

It’s old though, from before the rebellion. You can tell each time one of the tributes will come across the dam. How they examine the cracks, but you wonder if they realize that the spider web that it’s formed in, is no good luck. If they’re smart, they would choose the other side of the arena to stay in.

Anyway, Paslee is currently asleep against the tree, and Annie is nearby, maybe a few inches away from him. They’ve got all their things on the left side of Paslee, his arm is around it, and the knife is just barely still in his hand.

“Oh my god.” Finnick gasps, sitting up on the couch.

The careers stand over your tributes. Not directly, but a foot or two away. They stare, and laugh, and conspire. You listen to their amplified whispers–thanks to the gamemakers–about how they’re going to execute this.

“Fuck.”

The boy from one then leans over a stick and some torn up shirt wrapped around it. The girl from the same district strikes a spark a couple of times with a firestarter that was probably hidden somewhere in those boxes at the cornucopia.

The flame starts, and the boy holds it up.

There’s a sickening grin on his face, and he holds the flame near Annie’s hair, with a whisper of, “See the resemblance?”

“They’re psychopaths.”

Annie moans slightly at the light, throwing an arm over her face, as she turns away from them. The careers freeze where they are, and you watch as Annie’s eyes open, and how she is very much wide awake.

“So do we set them on fire or what?” the girl from one asks, “Or their things?”

“We wait here, see if they wake.” The boy answers, “Heat up the blade and then brand them awake.”

They all agree on that, and you watch as they sit down near her.

One look to the clock on the side of the screen, you can see it’s three in the morning for them, but for you it’s only one.

“We need to get to the betting area.” you tell Finnick, grabbing your jacket and pulling it onto yourself, “The sponsors will be waiting.”

You and Finnick grab your things that you’ll need for when you get down there. And just before you leave the apartment, you take one more look to the tv to see a tear well up and then dribble down her cheek.

You can’t stop jamming the button when you get in the elevator. Tapping your foot impatiently as Finnick paces the little area. When the doors open, you’re met with your competition.

“Oh!” Cashmere smiles, “We’re heading to the same–”

“Get out!” you yell at her, shoving her back as you press the button that keeps the doors shut. After that, it’s a much faster ride.

When you finally hit the base floor, you take off out the door. Finnick is hot on your heels, never passing you up. Your feet slap against the cement flooring painfully hard as you continue to try to run faster. Pushing the little energy you have in your body, out.

You slide around the corner, grabbing Finnick before he falls, and then you make the last part of the trek to the room. Finnick reaches the door first this time, and he presses himself against the wall when he opens it.

You guys make it just in time to see that Paslee and Annie are now very much awake, there’s an orange blade millimeters from Paslee’s face.

And then, he grabs his little dagger, and presses it blade to blade, getting it out of his face as Annie rises to her feet. She just barely gets her own sword into her fingers and swings.

The girl from one was reaching out to grab the boy to move him out of the way. Now, there’s three fingers missing from her hand. She lets out a scream, which has to have woken anyone that must be near them.

Finnick stands behind you now, and you watch as they battle it out.

The girl from one is tough, and even though she’s bleeding profusely, she swings the sword, and when it’s proving useless, she tries to use her right hand–which seems to not be the dominant one–to throw knives.

Annie just barely dodges out of the way.

At some point, the girl from two throws the torch, Annie’s and Paslee’s backpack catches fire, and snakes up the bark of the tree. The flames rise, the swings become tighter, and they’re catching each other’s swords.

And then Paslee makes the final swing at the boy from one, catching his throat in it.

His district mate’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in surprise. The district two’s fall short, and they go to catch him.

Annie uses a fire blanket to put out the fire on the backpack, but it’s charred and you wouldn’t be surprised if there are a few ashes waiting to burn what’s left of their things.

Then, they take off in the woods. The girl from district two begins to follow but she started too late. Annie and Paslee are quick, and they manage to dodge as many branches as possible. But they can’t avoid the thorns, or the tiny leaves and branches that snap at their skins and leave marks.

Annie is the quickest, weaving in and out of places, Paslee follows behind her without question. She doesn’t slow down until she reaches the stream of the dam, which is almost more than a mile away from where they had started.

This is when they begin to gasp for air, Annie is dousing the backpack in water, trying to breathe. Paslee tries his best, but moving for him eventually becomes a pain, and you watch as the water runs red. He’s got a cut on his body somewhere, and it’s deep enough to keep a steady flow of blood.

It cuts back to the boy from district one, just in time for you guys to watch as he sputters, blood spewing out like a fountain. The boy from district two has to wipe his eyes free of what had just landed on him. The girl is sobbing over his body, begging him to stay with her.

And then the cannon goes off.

Thirteen left in the arena.

“No!” Cashmere yells, you turn to look over your shoulder, watching her fall to her knees, “No!”

“They’re alive.” you can feel the adrenaline leaving your body, turning to Finnick, “get a sponsor, see if they’ll send that healing cream, Paslee’s hurt.”

He nods, kissing you briefly before heading off to where he needs to be.

Annie catches a hold of herself and she spreads the things out of the bag briefly, dousing the bag for the final time, and then she whispers the things that aren’t damaged, back to herself. She counts the things, throws the bad stuff into a bush, and then splashes water on her face.

She gets water ready to drink, since their bottles are left at the camp that is now up in flames, and the home of one dead body.

The hovercraft comes, taking him away.

“You killed him, Paslee.” Annie tells him, brushes his hair out of his face as she puts some water on his forehead too, even though he’s basically laying in the middle of the stream.

“The boy from one?”

“You didn’t hear the cannon?” she asks, he shakes his head.

“My heart is pounding in my ears.” he tells her, “I couldn’t hear a thing.”

Annie takes a sip of the water when she’s sure it’s safe, and then she passes it on to Paslee, “You’re bleeding.”

“He nicked my arm with the blade.” Paslee sits up to drink the water, and basically drinks the rest. When he goes to say sorry, Annie waves it off.

She moves around to check his arm, “You’re lucky that it wasn’t the burning part, then your skin would be scarred and bubbling.”

Finnick comes back, “It’s being sent. Did I miss anything?”

“They’re recovering from the run. They see the injury.” you tell Finnick, “The boy is dead.”

“Good.” he says it loud enough for Cashmere and Gloss to hear.

You take his hand, taking in a deep breath, before relaxing your body. You lean your head against his shoulder, watching as the camera suddenly goes back to your tributes after it was panning around the arena. Then, the music from the sponsor gift starts.

Annie perks up, and Paslee’s eyes begin to search the area around them, “There!”

Annie gets up, reaching up for it, and cradling it when she finally gets it in her arms. She pops it open, and uses the moonlight to read the little message. All it says it to use it generously.

“Thank you.” Annie says, the camera goes to the direction she’s facing, and then she goes over towards Paslee.

They apply it to his cut, Paslee groans in pain, but settles and sighs when it starts working. Then, they put it on all the little cuts they acquired while running through the forest.

You remember the healing cream that you used when you were inside. After you had been attacked by the bear when you were retreating. Finnick had put so much in, begging for it to work quickly because he couldn’t stand to see you in pain.

It left a pink scar for a while, that eventually faded to match your skin tone. However, it was all washed away when you had that full-body polish when you had won the games. Or so you thought.

They wanted to get rid of the scar, but Mags gave them a flat out no, and you hadn’t even realized that it was still there until a couple months later. When Reed had accidentally come in while your back was facing him, and he pointed out the scar. You spent the rest of that day just staring at it in the mirror. Giving yourself a terrible pain in the neck from the struggle.

You wonder what Finnick thought of it the morning after, or the night during you two had gotten together. If he was surprised that the four claw marks are still very much there, if it was your decision, if you were ever bothered by it. They’re a line of bumps on your back.

They don’t hurt, they’re just… there.

Annie and Paslee pack up their things after that. Annie mumbles something about getting away from the dam, and then after that she helps Paslee to his feet. Then, they begin downstream, heading to a new place to stay for the night.

At least they’re alive.

–

Five days later for you guys, twelve for the tributes, you’re down another six tributes. Both Paslee and Annie are going to strong, and you’re unfortunately proud to say that at least two of the kills belong to Annie. You don’t know the exact number, because you’re not around all hours of the day to watch anymore, but she’s doing well.

Two days later from when the careers attacked them, the boy from five was killed, thanks to the tributes. The girl from one was feeling… angry and she decided to go hunting by herself. Stumbled upon him and mutilated his body, left the bloody mess there and returned to the cornucopia.

Three more days after that, Annie had found the girl from six that was camping nearby to the dam, and took her out. Paslee was out hunting during that time, and he made sure to go back to their camp and wait for her to make sure that she was alive. She came back with a few scratches, used a little bit of the healing ointment cream to start the healing process a little faster, but not finish it off completely.

Later on that day, the cameras had flipped to the boy from eleven, and all of you had the displeasure of watching him choke to death on a berry that he was allergic to. The mentors wanted to send him epinephrine, but they didn’t have the sponsors, or the money to do it themselves. They watched their last tribute die.

Four days later, Annie would get her second kill of the boy from seven. She was caught in the crossfire of the boy from eight and seven. So, she stood back and watched as the boy from seven threw his hatchet, lodging it in eight’s chest, and then she swooped in and finished it off.

Lucky for your tributes, there were things left over on both of them. The eight tributes were teaming up, and so while they were seperated the boy took half of the supplies. Annie decided to just take the entire backpack and she met Paslee back at camp, where they relocated again. Nearby to the dam stream, but not anywhere near close to the dam itself.

They also keep moving because they are so immensely paranoid of what might happen if the careers come around them again. They hope that you’ll be able to send the healing cream again, but they know they can’t count on that. In the meantime, they pick berries, hunt rabbits and squirrels, sing songs and wait it out.

They mainly want them all to kill each other, narrow down the numbers and then go after whoever might be left. Then, when it comes to it, they’ll fight each other. Winner gets glory.

Today, you and Finnick head off to Laurel and Pleurisy to discuss the winners outfits. There’s only nine people left, two are yours which leaves seven.

Actually, you forgot to mention one of the deaths that happened this morning. The girl from nine had fallen from a tree and broke her neck when she hit the ground. So there’s six left to defeat.

“Paslee or Annie?” You ask.

“Annie, she has a better chance of winning.” He tells you, “She’s got more survival skills, it looks like.”

“They’ve both killed two people each,” you say.

“And yet, Annie is the only one that’s taking charge.” Finnick’s eyes slowly turn to you, “Reminds me of someone I know.”

You scowl, “I was not like that.”

“You were bossy as all hell, (Y/n)! If you weren’t bedridden then you would have been all over it.” He grins and you roll your eyes.

“I wonder how you would have survived if I weren’t there.” you take Finnick’s hand, swinging it.

“Just fine, I hope.”

[chicagocityofclans]

Roy Allen → Casey Deidrick → Clouded Leopard

→ Basic Information

Age: 90

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Made

Birthday: April 30th

Zodiac Sign: Taurus

Religion: Animism

→ His Personality Roy, like many cat men, has a tendency to be laid back. Unlike them however, he rarely feels the urge of competition or jealousy. This may stem primarily from him being changed, rather than born. He enjoys being connected to nature, and has a passion for outside sports. Roy spends as much time as possible outside; enjoying camping, rock climbing, swimming, and when he was in California, Surfing. Though he typically does activities that he can do alone, he will frequently invite Amaria, Greer and Chris to go out with him and get some fresh air. He is the king of outdoor field trips, and is notorious for bringing class outside as much as possible. Roy is very adventurous, and prefers to jump in first, rather than spend time mulling things over. It is how he has lived since he was young, and what he turned to after his wife died. This can lead him to be flaky at times, especially when things are buddy or overwhelming. Many appointments have Roy forgotten. Despite that, Roy is also quite likable for a cat. He was quickly accepted by the Chicago Clan, and even in his own pack in California, he had little to no resistance when he was appointed alpha, despite being changed. He uses this for good when he can, and tries to facilitate friendships in the clan.

While he is adventurous with his activities and life choices, Roy has a tendency to be timid when it comes to his feelings. He likes to portray a mellow and happy mood, but overthinks when it comes to anything deeper than that. A prime example would be his feelings for Amaria. He’s felt them for nearly a decade, but has a difficult time reckoning them with the grief or guilt that he has felt for his wife. While he doesn’t show many overt signs of stubbornness, Roy will typically ignore other people’s advice once his mind is made up. He doesn’t like to rethink things once he has finally decided on them, and can get frustrated if someone forces him to.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Biology Teacher

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Being outside and Smoking Weed

Two Dislikes: Outdated science and Guns

Two Fears: Losing Rebecka and Failing as a father

Two Hobbies: Solitary Sports and Camping

Three Positive Traits: Relaxed, Adventurous, Likable

Three Negative Traits: Emotionally Timid, Stubborn, Flaky

→ His Connections Parent Names:

Caroline Allen (Mother): Caroline was a good mother, for what Roy can remember. She and Finneas died when Roy was quite young, from a railroad accident. He was raised by his aunts until he was 16 and could go work on his own.

Finneas Allen (Father): Finneas was a good father, for what Roy can remember. He and Caroline died when Roy was quite young, from a railroad accident. He was raised by his aunts until he was 16 and could go work on his own.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

Rebecka Blake (Daughter): Rebecka is his pride and joy. She reminds him so much of her mother and he knows the two of them raised a wonderful woman. However, he sees his reckless need for independence in her and is worried she’ll throw everything she has away to run from her problems. He has been trying to encourage her to stand up and address the problems with her marriage, rather than run away.

Romantic Connections:

Serena Allen (Late Wife): Serena was the one who introduced him to everything that was supernatural. She showed him how to be a cat and taught him how to lead a pack. He was completely in love with her and devastated when she was killed. He still grapples with what he should have done the night she was killed, but is working on accepting what happened in the past and looking towards the future.

Amaria Crais (Interested): Amaria and Roy became friends quickly when he came to Chicago, but he isn’t sure when she became more. He wasn’t even sure it was romantic until she dated Ben. It may have been the first time he was jealous over another person in his life and it got him to sit back and reevaluate what she meant to him. He is finally set on asking her out, though he’s worried having Rebecka with him is complicating their relationship again.

Platonic Connections:

Harry Blake (Son-in-Law): Roy really likes his son in law and is rooting for the two of them to wake up and realize what they had was good. He’s been in contact regularly with Harry since Rebecka moved to Chicago and is encouraging him not to give up.

Chris Bialar (Best Friend): Chris and Roy formed an unlikely friendship when Roy, a former alpha, joined his pack. They have a strong unforeseen bromance, aided by the uncanny similarities in their experiences.

Greer Finley (Good Friend): Greer was definitely a challenge to get to like him. She wasn’t initially sure of him, but they’ve grown into good friends over the years. They occasionally smoke with one another and he walked her through some of the grief she felt over her husband.

Dot Evers (Friend): Roy and Dot, like he and Chris, share the same experience of losing a spouse. Dot still hasn’t explained the whole story, but it is very evident how painful it still is. He goes out of his way to field any run-ins with hyenas that he can to help her.

Joshua Lonewolf (Friendly): Roy thinks Josh is a good influence on the pack. He’s far different than most of the men in Chicago and is bringing out the best in Greer and Carter.

Carter Bialar (Friend): When he first met Carter he was struck with the similarities to Rebecka, and since having her here, it’s confirmed that they would have been terrible trouble makers had they grown up together. He has seen a lot of growth in the 10 years since he’s been in Chicago and knows that Carter will be a great leader in his own right eventually.

Miles Agyeman-King (Friend): Miles and Roy have a solid friendship, each being able to just be calmed and centered. He finds Miles a reassuring presence, especially when compared to the lion males in their clan.

Eun Hae ‘Esther’ Yoo (Friendly): He never spent much time with Esther, but he knows that she and Rebecka have become good friends with one another. She’s come by for Sunday morning breakfasts a few times and Roy enjoys her company.

Hostile Connections:

Kayla Silvestre (Dislike): Kayla, like many cats, has a strong distaste for humans. While he can see her side of it at times, her blind hatred just shows what is wrong with so many born supernaturals. And as a former human, he finds it incredibly annoying.

Ben Miller (Dislike): It was a tough pill to swallow when Ben dated Amaria. It struck a note of jealousy in him that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Roy said nothing at the time, but took the year that she dated him to unpack those feelings and deal with them alongside his grief. It doesn’t help that both of them are single, fairly dominant men and Roy doesn’t want him going after Rebecka.

Pets:

None

→ History Roy grew up in the mountains of California. He always had an adventurous spirit and frequently could be found exploring along Mount Whitney’s ridges. One day he was attempting to reach a dangerous peak when he fell and broke his back. He stared up at the blue sky and wondered if anyone may know what happened to him when a group of leopards began strolling around him. They smelled and prowled, and Roy had the sudden fear that he may be eaten. That was until the cats began to morph and in his delirium of pain and fear he saw a group of men and women stand. One of them cradled his head, gently saying something to him while the other three talked amongst themselves. Eventually a cat came back into view and he felt a sharp unbearable pressure dig into his leg before everything faded to black. When he awoke, the same blonde woman was next to him, looking expectantly at him. He learned her name was Serena and she explained that they had changed him into an animal shifter to save his life.

Roy, as he typically does, took it in stride. He didn’t have any family to go home to and quickly settled in, enjoying the strength and agility being a cat offered him. Serena, who he slowly began to realize was the daughter of the leader of the pack, taught him everything he knew and he slowly began to fall in love with her. They married on the 2 year anniversary of his change, and about a decade after were bequeathed the pack from her father who was ready to retire. Roy became alpha and ruled alongside Serena for decades. In his 50s they finally had their first child Rebecka, a precocious ball of energy that Roy did not expect. Everything was going well, and Rebecka had just joined her husband’s pack when Serena was attacked. She was trapped and skinned alive by hunters. It nearly destroyed Roy and he found himself unable to cope. He changed and ran and ran until he, unintentionally, found the spot where he was changed so many decades ago. It took Rebecka and Harry finding him and bringing him to their pack. Roy gave up his position as alpha and joined his daughter a bit farther north in California. Everything reminded Roy of Serena and he knew he needed to find some place new or he would give everything up to be with her in death.

Following his wife’s death and subsequently succession of his Alpha position, Roy began looking for a fresh start. He began applying for schools and universities where he could learn something to guide his new life. He was accepted into the University of Chicago’s Biology Sciences program. His daughter joked about getting his dorm room setup for him, like he did with her, but Roy knew he needed to live with the local pack. He made an appointment to meet Chris, and instead got Amaria. They clicked instantly, as did Chris and Roy. Roy spent some time getting settled into the city and his classes when Amaria and mostly Greer cornered him to have him begin a position at the school. In the beginning he helped with teaching the younger cats basic shifting rules and skills, and moved on to teaching Biology to the middle school and high school level after his graduation. He found a place and a passion for being a cat that he worried he had lost when he lost Serena in Chicago.

→ The Present Rebecka recently moved to Chicago without reason or notice. He was needless to say shocked, but welcomed her with open arms. She beat around the bush when he first asked but broke down after a little pushing. He reached out to Harry to see what had happened, and couldn’t help but feel for him. He was obviously heartbroken and confused as to why she left, and Roy has been on a mission to push her back towards him.

He has also been struggling with his feelings for Amaria. For so long it has been touch and go between them, and he’s almost certain she reciprocates his feelings. But with Rebecka’s arrival, Amaria has been pulling back. He’s not sure if it is the very present reminder that he has a kid, or that he has a dead wife. Still, he’s determined not to lose her to someone else.

[screamhole]

MY DATE WITH DEATH: A TRUE MEMORY & STORY

Did I ever tell you about my date with Death? Well, it’s a pretty horrible day where I’m at, so what better way to kill it than by spinning up one of my famous stories? And let me tell you, this one spins like a Beyblade in Hell on acid! 

Folks, let me tell you about the time I died, and all the fun I had along the way.

1. 

It all started in the bathroom, as so many classics do. I was brushing my teeth in the shower, as I am wont to do (note to reader: this means ‘as I want to do’; it looks dumb written out, but it’s actually smart as hell). Shower-brushing is a small time-saving trick of mine, which I never fail to apply on the daily. This day was no exception. I was all over those holy molars of mine when suddenly, I lost my footing on a bar of soap that I stand on (another of my time-saving manoeuvres) and I came tumbling down onto the slip mat. Slip is right, I thought, and would have made a note of that zinger had the toothbrush not become stuck in my windpipe. Choking, as I recall, I scrambled out of the tub and, knowing the house was empty because my wife Angie was at work, I rushed over to the neighbours’ apartment. Maybe they had air at their place, I thought. Sadly, I wasn’t quick enough; I was inches from their door when my body just couldn’t go anymore, and I collapsed on the landing floor. Luckily, I wasn’t naked; I had paused on the way to put on several pairs of pants. 

So that was it. Dead. Me. Me = Dead. Except it wasn’t how I expected. I mean, I wasn’t seeing all-nothing, or even all-black. In fact, I got up and saw myself, lying there, all-dead-and-all-soapy. “Ghost!”, I said. And I was right. I was a ghost. A ghost who got to hang around and see it all, as it unfolded over the next few hours: the neighbours finding me, the two police officers standing over my stiff, sud-ridden corpse. “What do you think, Sarge?” said the young one. “Another shower-sex hallway suicide?” “Don’t be stupid, kid” said the sergeant. “This guy’s wearing pants. I think we can chalk it up to a classic toothbrush-in-the-neck life hack gone wrong.”  “Good think I put on all those pants” I quipped, realising immediately that it was pointless because they couldn’t hear me. They couldn’t hear me! Damn, that was the deal, wasn’t it? You have to get all of the talking out of the way while you’re livin’. But there was so much I still needed to say about dyin’! This chin could be wagging forever, let me tell you. That’s some deal, huh? The one thing we all want to know about and here I am in the middle of it, with lips too stiff and dead to flap about it. How’s that for ass blastwards? So there I was, with a hell of a story to tell. And I knew there was only one person I’d be able to tell it to. 

Whoopi Goldberg. 

2. 

My grandma was dead. Is dead. She was dead, and now she is dead... again. Am I making sense here? She told me about the first time she died, back in the 90s. She was sucking on a Werther’s Original when it went down the wrong way and got stuck in her toaster and burned her house down. Lying on that hospital bed, she was legally dead for a good 27 minutes before they realised and resuscitated her (I think they were too busy watching some dumb Patrick Swayze movie on the communal television to notice). Thinking back, we all felt like she had gone crazy while she was dead, but now it seems there might have been some true-speak in all that wack-talk of hers. “If you ever die,” she once said to me as a kid, “If you die and you have to say something to a loved one, go to Whoopi Goldberg. I saw it. She helped me tell your grandfather he had soup on his good pants in the hospital, it was driving me crazy and was probably what set me off dying in the first place. I know it will work, son. If you need her, she’ll be there for you”. With those words in my ear, I packed a bag and headed out in search of Whoopi. 

I made it to the airport, and was having trouble scanning my passport with no corporeal form, when out of nowhere the whole room grew dim. People froze in motion, and there was an icy chill which took over the whole space. And then, a small light, like from the end of a tunnel, grew from behind the baggage claim. A screeching whistle came with it, before a train of bones roared past my face. The brakes braked, and as the bones ground to a halt out stepped a cloaked figure from the carriage. 

“Hello” he said. “You’re dead”. 

“I’m dead?” I asked. 

“You’re dead” he said. “And I’m Death.”

“You’re dead too?” I asked. 

“That’s right, I am Death” he said.

“Me too” I said. 

“I doubt it, kid” he said. “Anyway, sorry I’m late. There was some protest at Limbo station. All the staff walked out right after this demon... you know what? Not important. What is important is that you kicked your bucket. So hop on in, pup, next stop is your new forever home: Hell. OH. OH! That is, unless you want to play chess?” 

I turned away from the stranger. “Sorry, I don’t play that game… not anymore, that is.” I was kind of hoping that he would dig into my deep dark past relationship with the game of kings. 

“Suit yourself, friend” said Death. “Half the pieces are missing anyway. The one chess set on this hell train, you think these devil freaks are gonna put it back neatly? Fat chance. Anyhoodle, let’s get moving, up you come”. 

“I’m really going to Hell?”

“Yeah” said Death. “Frickin’ Hell City, USA. And unless you wanna effin’ play chess, kid, I don’t wanna hear any more fuckin’ back talk. Hop the eff on”. 

I couldn’t believe it. I had to escape; to re-live, and tell the tale of what death is like, and also what Death is like (note: make clear very handsome in second draft). A plan formed in my head, just like the plan to do a checkmate on the other guy forms in the head of a grand master chess player. “Oh, but Death,” I said “I really do want to play, but like you said we can’t play on that old set. It has no bishops”.  “That’s how we like it in Hell,” said Death, “it’s really more of a drinking game. Anyway, I take your point, kid; this chess board sucks. But where do you suggest we find a decent travel chess set at this hour, in this realm of existence? You got one in your great coat?” 

“No” I said. “But I think I have an idea. Let’s make a stop in… New York (maybe?)” 

3. 

Luckily, my plan worked out. I had managed to guess Whoopi Goldberg’s exact location: a Starbucks on 6th Avenue (note: check real place). I had also tricked Death into taking us there on the promise there’d be chess, and also he wanted a coffee. The train of bones crunched through the coffee shop window, shattering the glass and grinding the tables beneath it. Thankfully, this all played out in the dead dimension so it was totally fine. No one noticed. No one, that is, except Whoopi. 

“What the hell?!” she cried, jumping back from her table. 

“Whoopi,” I said climbing down, from the bone train, “you’ve got to help me. I’m dead and I know for an absolute fact you can send messages to the living.” 

“Oh I get it,” said Whoopi, “you think just because I played a medium in that movie that I can really talk to dead people?”

“Listen Whoopi, I’ve never even seen Sister Act, so please don’t assume I would be so irrational and quick to judge people like that. Instead of accusing me of stuff, how about you accept that you’re talking to a real ghost right now, and so therefore I am right.”

“Oh my God” said Whoopi. “I guess I can speak to ghosts. I guess all my years on The View have made me capable of speaking to anyone”. 

“Yeah: you, Jimmy Kimmel, Graham Norton… all supremely cursed folks. Talk-show hosting is a real double-edged sword. Back to me, though. Whoopi: can you call my wife and tell her I loved her? Oh, and also I won’t be able to make it to our Saturday UNO game for obvious reasons. Oh, oh, and that the obvious reasons are that I’m going to Hell on the bone train with Death. Sorry, so much has happened today, I forget to bring people up to speed.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice” said Whoopi. She closed her script for Sister Act 3 and opened up Skype, making a call to the account details I gave her. The little jingle played before a familiar voice answered. 

“Angie?” said Whoopi. “This is Whoopi Goldberg”

“And?” said my wife. 

“Angie, I’m calling on behalf of your departed husband.”

“Oh my god,” Angie said. “What has he done now?”

“He’s dead, actually,” explained Whoopi, “choked on a toothbrush before you got home. The police must have taken him away but stopped for lunch, so they’ve not gotten a chance to let you know about it. He wants you to know that he loves you, Angie. You were the best thing in his life. Doesn’t sound like tough competition for a man who loved toothbrushes and chess, but all the same, he wanted you to know.” 

“Cool, good to know” said Angie. “Hey, one second: does this mean that he’s talking with you right now?”

“Yeah,” said Whoopi “his spirit is here. Right now he’s looking at his hair in the window, even though he’s literally invisible.” 

“Well, if he’s really there,” said Angie, “I’ll ask him something only he would know and that will prove ghosts are real. What’s my favourite colour?” “Shit…” I said. “Uh, I dunno, green maybe”. 

“Uh, I dunno, green maybe” said Whoopi. 

“Wow, that’s spooky”, said Angie. “It’s actually purple, but that idiot always thinks it’s green. He even painted the house green for our anniversary. What a dunce. Ok, cool, tell him no worries. If he can make it home tonight for UNO, great, but I’ll not be holding my breath.” 

“Don’t worry, my wife,” I said. I have a plan”

“Don’t worry, his wife, he has a plan,” said Whoopi. 

“I’ll definitely not wait up then. Thanks Whoopi. We loved you in Sister Act by the way” said Angie, and hung up. 

“Ah, guess I have seen it,” I told Whoopi. “Well, thanks for your help. I guess there’s only one option left: I’m gonna have to kidnap and murder Death”. 

“Why don’t you just beat him at chess and win your life back, like in that movie?” asked Whoopi. 

“For the last time, Whoopi, I don’t remember Sister Act at all!” I said. “More to the point, I don’t play chess. Not after… that night.” I was kind of really hoping someone was gonna ask about the deep dark past thing. It’s not often I get to tell these stories. 

“Suit yourself, kid” said Whoopi. “I guess you’re going to Hell, then”. 

4. 

The bone train door slammed open. 

“Ok kid,” said Death, “it’s been 50 minutes now. Do they have my mocha frapp or what? Are we gonna play chess now, or what? Honestly? I kind of feel like you’re using me for some kind of plot thing that’s going on for too long, and I just want to play some games to take my mind off the fact that my job sucks forever. You + Me = Hell, RIGHT NOW.” 

Think fast, I thought, at a normal thought-speed. Suddenly, it hit me. 

“Alright, Death. Time to play, for my very soul.” 

“Sweet,” said Death. 

“But not at chess.” 

“Ah, Jeez!” Death groaned.

“No, I could never play chess again. It’s actually a really cool and dark story that I haven’t had a chance to tell, but maybe I could tell it if…” “Yeah, yeah, what’s the game, kid?” said Death, doing the wrap-up-the-story hand gesture with his bone-fingers. 

I pulled a pack of cards from my great coat pocket (as in, the coat pocket is really great, it’s just a regular modern fashionable coat). 

“UNO?!” cried Death. “Kid, you really are going to Hell.” 

“Not if I can help it,” I said. “I was taught by the best: my wife. She made me the player I am today. And she takes no prisoners. So yes, Death. I’d wager my life on the back of her teaching”. 

Death pulled up a table, and leaned his scythe against the coat rack.

“Whatever, dude. Just deal ‘em out.” 

I played Death best of three. Best of three is right, I thought. More like the best three games of my life, let me tell you. They had to be, given what was at stake. We tied one-to-one. Death learned the game so fast, and he was soon a worthy competitor. It was down to the knuckle, which was unfair given his were so much more visible. We were down to two cards each, and it was his turn. I had to pull it out, but these last two cards were the worst I could have had. He slammed down a green 3. 

“This is it, kid. This next card’s a ticket to Satan’s ass. STANDARD CLASS.” 

I flipped a yellow 3. 

“UNO,” I declared, “and guess what, Death? You were so busy sassing me, you forgot to say UNO yourself, so you have to PICK UP.” 

Death shuddered realising his mistake. 

“What?! No!” he cried. “Ah, fuck this game! Why couldn’t we have played Demon Party Drunk Chess anyway. Oh my god, these cards suuuuuck!” 

The last card was one of those wild cards you can write on. “I’m done, Death. And my custom rule is that you have to give me my soul and my life back.” 

“The game’s over kid. Also, I don’t think that’s a real rule you can make anyway. But a bet is a bet.” He waved his hand, doing cool Death magic or something. “Now get back to living before I do something I regret”. 

I felt my spirit form fading as I regained my life inside my body. It looked kind of like that scene with Marty McFly in Back To The Future where he’s almost erased from existence. 

“Wow,” I said. “This is just like that movie”. 

“Yep.” said Death, walking away sulkily. “Just like Sister Act.” 

“Thanks for everything” I said. “So long.”

“You know, it is a shame. I would have liked to play with you again. But I don’t have friends much anymore. Things have been a little tough since the whole… incident.” 

“Suit yourself, kid" I said, vanishing into the air. 

“Oh well I guess I could stop by now that you mention it, ok thanks, see you and your wife tonight at 8??” 

Damn, I thought. My body had left that realm, but his words followed me. I guess it wouldn’t be the worst date I had in my life! I thought (man I gotta write these zingers down). “See you then, Death” I whispered, my voice going all ethereal. “See you then.” 

5. 

I woke up in the ground, soil trickling onto a cheap coffin the cops had stuffed me in. Weeping, some folks were throwing handfulls of dirt into the hole where I was lying. I didn’t recognise them, I think they just wanted a day out at the graves. I bust through the lid of that thing like it was cardboard, and climbed out. “Come on guys” I said, pushing off the coffin lid. “You gotta throw more dirt on than that, I haven’t got all day. If you give me a shovel I’ll get it done much faster.” And I did. And when I was done filling my own grave, I walked home, knocked on my door, and was met by my beautiful Angie. “Boy, did I miss you” I said, shaking her hand in a friendly manner. 

“You have soap in your hair” she said. 

“I know. And soil in my shoes babe, it’s a weird combination. But there’s also love in my heart. And if you’ll have me, I am ready for UNO. Speaking of which, I may have invited a friend along…” 

So there you have it. That’s how me and my wife Angie got ourselves a weekly dinner date with Death, of underworld fame. And you know what? It’s a lot of fun having him round. It can be hard to make friends as a couple, and he’s a good guy. Even though I sometimes worry a little too much about our fate beyond this lifetime, every time I hear that screechin’ bone-train a-comin’, I smile knowing it will all be ok. In fact, I think I hear it coming now…

…ok never mind, it was just my wife screamin’ at me again.