#but oliver telling her not to cower away from people is important to ME

[majorbaby]

And when you meet people, don't look down. Look them in the eye. And don't back off.

[italianexotiicbeauty]

[ just sharing some writing from another platform that is for this character ( the metahuman ) there. ]

”Really? You haven’t exactly been very forthcoming with the entire reason you require my help… you know instead of someone equally or more capable on your team that is.” Mary glared from behind the valkyrie helm, fingers curling into fists inside the gloves she had on - and then she fell silent. Not on purpose, something else entirely had caught her attention … something that wasn’t supposed to be there. A bright blue-white light suddenly filled the air as he ascended across to the base.

Almost … no, DEFINITELY like a doorway. It was dark in the forest but that light would have been seen for miles around. “PRINCESS! ARE YOU HERE!?” She cringed, that voice was all too familiar to her and very few could get away with calling her Princess. It wasn’t a nickname though - it was a title and that’s what happens when your adoptive father is the King Of Asgard. You get the word Princess in front of your name, only people allowed to even call her that - besides Heimdall and on occasion Lady Sif and the Warriors three - was Ratatoskr. A talking squirrel you say? The guardians had a talking raccoon, so a talking squirrel who tended to run up and down the world’s tree wasn’t THAT unheard of.

She sighed a little, recalling whom she was in the company of and undoubtedly Oliver would tease her about it - well, if he had heard it - for some reason. “You breathe a word of this to anyone and you’re going to be catching your own arrows in spots they shouldn’t be in, do I make myself clear?” That was a promise. Really the LAST thing she needed was some idiot enemy getting wind that she was a Princess and then all hell would break even further loose than it already had. “Over here, Ratatoskr - just … please refrain from calling me that when out and about in my realm, okay? Thank you.” She could see the little figure with the curled tail racing closer, closing the distance from where the doorway had been opened to where she was standing. Her helm tucked under her arm, holding it there as she looked down towards her boots and held a hand out. Hovering it over the squirrel’s head and flames engulfed it, giving a little light so that she could see him. “There you are, what is it?”

Ratatoskr cowered a bit when the flames mystically appeared from her hand, his tail twitching in anxiousness while hugging himself to her legs. “So sorry Pri… Mary, I’ve come with news. Volstagg has told me that the dark elves have the gatekeeper, I was to tell you this immediately since this quest is yours.”

The flames that had engulfed her hand were immediately extinguished, Oliver had no idea what Ratatoskr was talking about but that made her wonder if he’d be okay with abandoning what they were supposed to do here in order to help her go and save someone else. Someone very important to the realm of Asgard, Heimdall - who had been missing for a year now and they had just learned his whereabouts?! “Thank you Ratatoskr, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Sensing that the squirrel had run off in the direction he had come, she could see the bright blue-white light fill up a doorway like hole suddenly through her peripherals. Exhaling a deep breath, she slid the valkyrie helm back on and with enough speed crossed the distance from the cliffside to where Oliver had landed.

With the use of flight no less. “We might have to reconsider this mission…” Because she could see the lights of the base being turned on, bright enough to flood fill the darkest corners to check for intruders. “... At least for the time being…”

[bestillmyslashyheart]

exception

1.

Alex Manes had a secret.

He was a coward.

Sure, he didn’t give a shit what people at school thought about his clothes. He didn’t pay any mind to the half-whispered comments of people on the street when it came to his preferences. 

But that was nothing. It cost him nothing to ignore those people, to push them out of his mind. They weren’t worth the hassle of caring. Being above them didn’t require him to be brave. Not like his father did.

The one time, the one place, Alex needed to be brave and stand up for himself and he cowered like a child every time. Every. Single. Time.

His father would get that look and Alex knew what was coming and he just...let it happen. He never stood up for himself, never challenged his father. He couldn’t. He wasn’t brave enough.

Until he was.

Jesse Manes threw open the shed door with that look in his eye and Alex knew he and Michael weren’t both getting out of there in one piece. He knew it like he knew the sky was blue. It was a fact buried deep into his soul.

Alex didn’t stop to think about it. He saw his father, saw the look, saw the hammer, and stepped in front of Michael. He would take anything his father had to dish out but like hell was he going to let his father lay so much as a hand on Michael. Not while he was there.

The fact that Michael was the one who left that encounter mangled lay on Alex’s conscience for years. But, ultimately, Alex had won that day. He might be a coward when it came to his father but put Michael into the equation? And Alex would stand up to Jesse Manes anytime, anywhere. 

He couldn’t be a coward when it came to protecting Michael, no matter what. 

2.

“Where the fuck is he?” Liz blew into the Wild Pony and straight up the bar, her phone clutched tightly in a fist. Maria froze and glanced around her.

“Where is who?”

“Michael,” Liz ground out. “He was supposed to meet me three hours ago. I don’t care if you two had plans, I need him to help me figure this out.” Kyle half got out of his seat, a hand outstretched to calm Liz down. He knew she was stressed out about Max, she’d spent almost every waking moment for weeks holed up in her lab working to revive him like he’d done for Rosa, but that was no excuse to treat Maria like this. 

“I haven’t seen him today,” Maria replied. She put down the glass she was cleaning. “He said he was going to be working with you all day.”

“He was supposed to be,” Liz told her, her fist loosening as some of the anger left her. “He never showed and he’s not answering his phone.”

Isobel scoffed from her perch a few stools away. “Michael never answers his phone. Like, literally never.” She threw back a shot and motioned to Maria for another.

Liz and Kyle both looked to Maria as she refilled Isobel’s glass without comment. “She’s right. Michael never answers his phone. If I want to get ahold of him I just text him.” She came back over to their end of the bar. “When was the last time you talking to him?” Maria glanced between the three of them. “Any of you?”

“I don’t really talk to Guerin,” Kyle admitted.

“I texted him last night to confirm what time we were meeting at the lab.” Liz pulled out her phone to check. “He never replied though.” She looked up. “What about you?”

“He was in here last night but he left before closing,” Maria admitted. She was starting to get worried and Kyle watched as she pulled out her phone to text him. Maria stared at her phone for a minute, willing a response to come through, before she looked over at Isobel. “Aren’t you worried?”

Isobel waved a hand at them. “It’s Michael. He does this.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Maria protested. “He never just vanishes without a word.”

Isobel scoffs. “Sure he does. He hasn’t done it since Max-” she cleared her throat- “I figure he’s due for a disappearing act, honestly. He’ll be back. He always is.”

“And you’re not going to call him?” Kyle asked in disbelief. Far be it from him to question their sibling dynamic but Isobel had been rather clingy since Max died and it was odd to see her so cavalier about him being missing.

She shot him an unimpressed look and fished an olive out of her martini. “So he can not answer?” 

“He doesn’t even answer for you?”

“He doesn’t answer his phone for anyone.” Isobel sipped the last of her drink. “Best case scenario is he sees the caller ID and sends a text.” She glanced between Maria and Liz and sighed. “Which he isn’t doing. Seriously, he does this. He’ll be back in a day or two like nothing happened.”

The door slammed shut and they all turned towards the entrance. It was still relatively early, too early for Maria to be officially open, and they weren’t expecting anyone.

“Alex?” Maria asked softly as he stepped into the light of the main room. Alex glanced up at her as he flipped through a few of the files he had clutched in his hand. “What are you-? It’s um, it’s good to see you.”

Kyle looked between them, at Maria’s hopeful face and Alex’s careful indifference, and decided not to get in the middle of that. “What’s that?”

Alex nodded to himself and carefully shut the file he was looking through. He spent a few seconds arranging everything and then held the stack out to Liz. “Project Shepherd research on the health of the aliens. There’s nothing in there about resurrection but it’s all I could find on their biology. Thought maybe it could be useful.”

Liz took it with a careful smile. “Thanks, Alex.”

Alex gave her a smile in return and turned to go.

“Manes!” Isobel called before he could leave. “Where’s my brother?” She didn’t look at Alex as she leaned over the counter to help herself to another bottle.

Maria looked like she wanted to glare at her for it but there were too many emotions warring on her face for Kyle to tell.

Alex turned slowly. “Guerin’s missing?”

Isobel shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s just on one of his little me-cations but these two,” she nodded at Maria and Liz, “are worried. Figured maybe you’d heard from him.”

“I haven’t seen or talked to him for a few days. Have you tried calling him?”

Kyle just barely held back a laugh as the three women let out various sounds of exasperation. “He doesn’t answer.”

Alex arched an eyebrow. “He’s not answering?”

“Michael never answers,” Isobel told him. “Literally, never.”

Kyle watched Alex’s face go blank for a moment before he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He fiddled with it for a second before holding it to his ear. Maria, Isobel, and Liz all stared at him with varying degrees of amusement and disbelief as he apparently called Michael.

“Hey,” Alex said after only a few seconds. Kyle’s jaw dropped. “Where are you? Maria and Liz are worried you’ve gone AWOL.” He paused. “Yeah, fine. Just text them or something.” He waited a beat before he hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“What the fuck?” Isobel asked.

Alex shrugged. “He said he’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You just talked to him on the phone.”

“Yeah,” Alex shrugged. “I hate texting.”

“He answered?” Maria sounded incredulous.

Alex looked at them oddly. “He always answers.”

3.

There were a few accepted truths about living in Roswell, New Mexico.

Love it or hate it, if you lived in Roswell, you lived in Alien Town USA. It was all anyone anywhere would ever know about your hometown and there was no escaping it.

Aliens were real. Who or where they were was irrelevant; live in Roswell long enough and you just know. You are not alone in the universe.

If you’re going to get arrested, get arrested by Deputies Evans and Cameron. The view is worth spending time in cuffs.

No one touches Michael Guerin’s hat. The last guy who tried ended up in the hospital with a shattered hand. 

For almost ten years, seeing the hat was almost as good as seeing Guerin himself. No one else in town wore a hat quite like his. 

In a small town like Roswell, news traveled fast. Guerin and Maria DeLuca’s ill-fated relationship made tongues wag but no one gave it much thought beyond idle gossip. After all, they may have made a cute couple but he still wouldn’t let her touch the hat. The day she tried to pick it off the counter in the Wild Pony to plop it on her own head and Guerin snatched it out of the air and almost knocked her over from the force of his motion was the moment everyone knew their relationship was doomed. 

So when, not two weeks later, Alex Manes walked into the Crashdown Cafe with a very familiar black hat perched on his head, the town lost their minds. No one, not even Maria DeLuca or Liz Ortecho apparently, knew what to make of it. No one even knew what to say. It was quite possibly the quietest day in town for everyone stopped in their tracks, jaws agape, at the mere sight of Alex Manes that day. Well, the sight of the hat on anyone other than Michael Guerin.

For his part, Alex wore a twisted smirk the whole day, like he knew the effect he was having and was enjoying every second of it while trying not to show it. He was polite and friendly to everyone but neatly dodged every attempt to question how he came to be wearing Guerin’s hat.

It took weeks, nearly months, for the town to get used to seeing Alex in Guerin’s hat. They never did get an explanation or an answer to any query but the two men were seen together often enough that really, no explanation was necessary.

Everyone with eyes could see how Alex won exclusive privileges to the accessory.

(What Michael and Alex never admitted was that Alex had been the one to purchase the hat in the first place, a birthday/graduation/goodbye present for Michael that fateful summer. He’d given it on the one condition that he got to wear it whenever he wanted - he just didn’t take advantage of that until much much later.)

4.

He knew it was silly. Becoming more comfortable with his body and his reality was an important part of his recovery but Alex couldn’t help it. The idea of anyone seeing or touching his leg made him nauseous. He forced himself to settle when he visited the doctor but other than that, he kept his leg covered and out of sight.

It was fine. He had the prosthetic and his crutches and he didn’t need anyone to see it.

It was fine.

Until, of course, it wasn’t.

Alex should’ve known. With this group’s luck, it was really only a matter of time until he got hurt. Everyone else had already suffered through an injury (or two or more). He’d been fortunate really but it looked like his luck had finally run out. 

He didn’t actually remember much of what happened. One second, he’d been staring down the barrel of a gun held by his brother and the next he was being tossed around the backseat of Max Evans’ truck. 

“Alex!” Michael was yelling loudly. Alex’s head was propped on his thigh and he had a hand on Alex’s cheek, alternatively caressing his face and tapping gently to try and get his attention. Alex rooted towards his hand unconsciously as he fought the pull of the darkness threatening to overwhelm him. “Alex!” Michael cried again. “Don’t go to sleep! Stay awake. Stay with me.” The last part was whispered as Michael hunched over him and it was that, that desperate plea that Alex forcing his eyes open and his hand up to grasp weakly at Michael, his fingers catching on the closest part of him.

“Hey,” he muttered. “I’m okay.”

Michael laughed wetly and pressed his forehead to Alex’s, his tears dropping onto Alex. “You are so far from okay, darlin’. But you will be. I got you.” He kept stroking Alex’s hair as the car bounced along and Alex gradually became aware of a burning pain coursing its way up the right side of his body. The car hit a pothole and Alex couldn’t hold back the pained groan that escaped him.

“Jesus Max, be more careful!” Michael yelled almost immediately.

“I can drive carefully or I can get us the fuck out of there!” Max shouted back. “Faster I drive, faster we get him to a hospital.”

“Why do I need a hospital?” Alex managed to ask as the pain started to really make itself known. It was like it had been hiding until Alex acknowledged it existed and now it was out in full force. “What happened?”

“There was a bomb in the office. Fail safe to make sure the information didn’t get into the wrong hands if the base was infiltrated. You were right outside,” Michael never stopped his hand’s movement through his hair and Alex focused on that instead. “Flint’s dead. Your prosthetic practically melted and, jesus fucking christ, your right side is- it’s-” he didn’t finish but Alex didn’t need him to. He was already familiar with the feeling of his body on literal fire; it was a miracle he hadn’t recognized it sooner.

“Hospital,” he forced out.

“Five minutes,” Max answered from the front seat. “Kyle’s meeting us there.”

“My leg,” Alex grabbed at Michael’s hand. “Don’t- don’t let-”

“I won’t,” Michael assured him. “Kyle won’t go near it, I promise. He’s just gonna deal with the doctors for us. He won’t treat you.”

Alex closed his eyes in relief. “Has anyone-”

“No,” Michael promised. “I got to you first and got you to the car. No one saw your leg.”

“Thank you,” Alex breathed. “Thank you.”

5.

Alex stared at the papers in his hand. Ten years ago, this wouldn’t have been a choice. Hell, five years, one year ago, this would’ve been a no-brainer. But now he was hesitating.

Five more years. Five more years to put off deciding what to do after the military, five more years with official access to Project Shepherd and the means to take down his father. 

Five more years where the military could send him wherever they wanted.

He should do it. The pros outweighed the cons, honestly. And yet-

Alex was a runner. He could justify it to himself all he wanted but he always ran. He ran away from Roswell after Rosa died, he joined the military but made sure he was as far away as possible from his father at all times, he walked away from Michael time and time again at the slightest provocation, hell he even ran from his best friends. He didn’t like having things tying him down. Not friends, not his family, not obligations. He liked having the freedom to pick up and go.

(And maybe he was enough of a coward that he liked being able to just leave painful situations. He didn’t have to deal with his heart being broken or his friends letting him down if he just fucking left.)

It was an enticing offer. Re-upping with the Air Force would let him protect Michael while taking him far enough away that he wouldn’t have to see him all of the time. See him self-destructing because of Alex and his family. See him trying to be happy with Alex’s best friend.

Michael had seen the papers. Alex knew he had. He wasn’t sure when or how but Michael’s behaviour had changed the last few days.

Everyone else was confused by it but Alex understood. He’d seen this side of Michael before; every time he came home, his last few days in town would be like this, Michael preemptively shoving him away so it might hurt just a little bit less when Alex had to leave.

Alex stared at the papers a while longer before he grabbed his keys and got in his truck. It was later than he’d thought, the sun already setting, but he didn’t let it phase him. The fire was already blazing when he pulled up the Airstream, Michael’s form slumped in a chair nearby.

Michael looked up when Alex stepped out of the car but he quickly looked away. “So is this it?” He called out as he tipped his head back to take a large swallow of acetone. “This my goodbye?”

Alex pulled the papers out of his pocket and handed them over without a word. Michael was curious enough to take them but as soon as he read the header he tried to hand them back.

“Just fucking say it!” He yelled. “Don’t- don’t do it like this. Just- just say goodbye. For once.”

“Look at the bottom,” Alex instructed gently.

Michael glared at him, Alex staring back evenly, before he glanced down at the bottom of the page which needed Alex’s signature.

It was blank.

“What- I don’t understand.” Alex pulled the papers out of his slack grip and fed them to the fire. “Wait, what are you doing? Alex?”

“I’m done. My service is up next week and I’m not signing on for more.”

Michael stared at him. “You need to, though. For Project Shepherd.”

Alex nodded. “I do. But re-upping means going where the Air Force dictates and I can’t do that anymore.” Michael stopped breathing. “I can’t leave Roswell. Not again.” I can’t leave you. Not again.

Michael dropped the bottle, uncaring as it spilled out on the ground, and lurched to his feet. He grabbed at Alex, his hands coming up to hold his head gently.

“Why?”

“Because you’re in Roswell,” Alex answered simply, though the words were anything but. “And if you’re here then I’m staying.” He drew in a ragged breath. “I’m staying.”

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | The Pocketwatch

remember that this is a first draft with only minor edits, but enjoy! comments and reception is always appreciated. 

-

“How does it work?” Ayu’s legs almost jumped in curiosity. Such magic was exactly like what he had seen from a comic, only, without a simple trinket. 

“You open and close it– but that’s not what’s important at the moment!” Eilwen swatted her free hand around Ayu’s face. Ayu complied as she said, “What would you like to know first?”

“Oh,” he reminded himself, “yeah… I really need this one, so can you tell me about the monsters?”

“What monsters?”

“You gotta know them.” Ayu’s arms fumbled to recreate their image. “They’re big, scary, kinda ghost looking but like to stab?”

“The Iblis monsters?” An eye twitched from Eilwen’s confused look.

“That’s what they’re called?”

“Oh, my Lord-.” Eilwen placed a hand on her forehead. “You actually don’t know anything.”

“Can’t you tell me already?” Ayu’s expression lowered from her tired attitude. 

Eilwen’s brows furrowed. “I’m afraid not. Alice told me not to give information on them but I didn’t actually think you needed it!”

“I get it. I’m dumb, but damn…” Ayu picked on some dry skin; no solution to the question making him itch. “Then, why is this all happening anyways? For everybody and me, I mean.”

“Oh well that’s simple enough.” For the first time, she opened her pocket watch. And with the snap of it closing shut yet again, the flame in the middle of the room began to fade. The room melted along with the light as new ones grew into new scenery. In front of them was a boy, brightness all around him in his short stature. His light figure glowed from his white hair and skin, while his tunics and layers of silk matted him to a royal status with his circlet made of gold and shiny coal. “You already know Akeldama.”

The rare sight stunted Ayu, and in a baffled surprise, he asked, “Am I able to… touch him?”

“Why so?”

“I’ve never been able to, and its making me wonder,” he answered truthfully. 

A click of the tongue was heard. “For him, no.” Eilwen walked towards the image smiling in pride. “They’re similar to an illusion; something clear to our minds but not our bodies.” She waved over the boy. Her hand passed through his body with ease. 

Ayu processed her words. “… So, if I put my mind to it, can I punch him or something?”

“No.” The boy mumbled a swear. “But let’s move on with your question: Akeldama is some sort of being with immense amount of power and dark magic. Presumably, a devil of sorts, which would explain his terrible mannerisms in ruling.”

The scene cleared from blurry vision Ayu had not realized before. Flames formed behind Akeldama in vigorous fashion. Small houses built under the burning light and drifted away in ashes. 

“He’s killed thousands, as legends say.” Her voice was void of pity. She stared at the view with Ayu, her face dull without a sign from tragedy. “But, he also saved dozens. Horribly, if I may add.” 

Eilwen clicked her watch yet again. The scene formed into the forest Ayu stood only minutes ago. As the land filled in focus, the woman walked on. Ayu followed. 

Stepping upon soundless grass, a blur of color came from the distance. Viewing closer, the blur changed to people in all shapes and sizes. Their clothes shined in all sorts of colors as they all gathered in a circle. Eilwen entered into the clump, Ayu followed. His body shifted between people as he bumped into many. 

“Didn’t you say these were like illusions?”

“Depends on the event,” she answered. “They still can’t feel us, but one thing I know from all of time is that Akeldama is untouchable.”

Ayu’s small brows furrowed as he shuffled against the crowd of strangers. 

“He created our society from, what we could tell as, boredom. But his way in recruitment for many didn’t consist of greed or malice, but instead desperation and escape.” The chatter charged in anxiety and silence. Whispers reached out beyond all and overlapped between others’ words. “He came along offering immortality, power, and above all else, a way out of our lives. However, the offering and contracts quickly became a threat.”

“Fuck…” Ayu stopped pushing himself away from others. He paused his movement in reminiscence of Akeldama’s offerings. 

“From what Alice believes,” Eilwen added. “Akeldama does have intentions for his actions.” She made a look at Ayu. 

Ayu began tugging his hair again. 

“Only we may never find out. Even with my magic, I can only go so far as to the 1600s, and at that, some parts are blocked.”

Once they exited the circle, Ayu asked, “Hasn’t anybody tried to take over? Or kill him?”

Eilwen scoffed, “As if that would occur.” She pointed at the crowd. “All of our abilities come from Akeldama’s own magic, and he always isolates himself in his throne room in which only Alice is able to enter. And if anyone were to attempt, they’d be aware he can kill in a millisecond. A suicide attempt, if you will.” 

“So, pretty much a no.”

“Anyone would kill him if they had the chance,” she stated.

“Or put him in a choke-hole…”

She scoffed, “We wish.”

A second of thought necessitated him. “I’m gonna have to wait more for most of these, aren’t I,” asked Ayu. 

“Practically so, yes.”

His face flattened. “I’m going nowhere with this, then?”

“Regardless of knowledge,” she faced him directly in the eyes, “you’re not going to be able to stop him with your nature.”

Ayu groaned, pulling his bangs harder. “Why the fuck do I even try?”

“I’d mind you about the language but there’s no point with what we do,” she commented.

Ayu hummed with an agitated pitch. Though he realized other options are always possible. “… Then, what about Oliver? Can’t I get background on him?”

Eilwen stared into space for quite some time. Her thoughts seemed to be fixated from all Ayu could ponder. “You can gain some. But only some.” She set her watch again. “Though his family line is crucial in the development of this society.”

The forest melted in color. The circle of civilians devolving into lifeless blobs of nothing. The grey skies turned to the dark bricks of a ceiling. And walls closed in behind them. Dirt and musk engraved itself on the floors along with small blood splatters and spilled water. The only light to appear in the desolate waste of a room was a small window unreachable by height, and the small hole that poked out of the wooden door. 

In the corner was a girl, a few years senior of Ayu. Her body contorted to a ball shaking in every limb. Her light hair was ragged and greasy, dangling across her head and legs in clumps. The hair covered up the view of searing scars, as well as the chains stuck upon her wrists.

“1610: … Cecily Rixon, or as you likely know her as, Alice. She was accused of witchcraft after remedying her mother through illness, and taken to the chambers to be punished until she admitted her crimes, guaranteeing her execution.”

Ayu stared at the chilling image in front of him, though, his own chills never stopped him from moving at that moment. “So, she was hurt to death?” His feet led him on towards the girl. He stood above her and watched her cower from nothing but her own pain. 

“I-indeed.” 

He lowered his knees, then adjusted himself to where he sat across from her. He pondered as she cried up dry tears. “This was… normal, right?” 

“I wish to say it wasn’t,” Eilwen answered. “… She was about to admit to her ‘crimes’ back then, however, -”

The door opened slowly, but not to the attention of Ayu. The girl whisked her head up at the small creak of sound. Her covered up face now revealed itself to the scene. Dry skin filled up her cheeks with a cut on the side. A swell from another cheek punctured and bruised her lip. All and even a burning brand mark seeped by the end of her neck. Ayu studied it all before turning back to see who was at the door. Though, it was easily recognizable by that point. 

“He’d arrived at her darkest day.”

Her throat trembled at her own words as she spat, “I work with the devil, sir… You may take me by the grave but that won’t- that won’t stop him.” The words jumbled in its own confusion.

“You may lie as you like,” Akeldama said calmly, “but, that may never work for someone like me, as disappointing as that is.” He entered the cell. His bored expression looked down upon her as her face twisted to confusion. 

“You’re not the guard.”

“I know I’m not,” he replied. “I arrived for something else.” 

“What’s your reasoning?”

“To give you a-” He rolled his eyes. “Bargain.”

The girl never replied to him. 

He sighed, “You don’t believe this sort of life is worthwhile? Don’t you?”

No answer. 

“Your family pushed you to labor then to this state only because of some men in armor scaring them. They formed you into this state without hearing any of your pleas or thinking anything of a truth from you. You’re in this state because you could never fight back, not even speak back to them. They’re all of unfair power against you.” 

She turned away from him.

“You can do something about that; you’re able to stand for yourself and prosper.” He told her. “You can get out of this life where you’re controlled by their lies… and I’ll help.”

“What a lie,” Eilwen twitched. 

Ayu’s focus completely shifted to Akeldama. His mind numbed from his contradiction. Though, most of all, he thought, why haven’t you told that to me…?

The girl turned back around, shaky and slow. “H-how?”

He offered his hand. “Come with me and you can live a new life. I’ll give you power; I’ll give you freedom. You’ll live however you’d like, as long as you follow what I say.”

Her eyes shimmered in a flash. “What is it you’ll say?”

He looked away. “Small things. Nothing major in the grand scheme of the world. I need time to have everything set, to be frank, so you’ll need patience.” A small smile creeped from his lips with the sense of genuineness. “But take my hand, and one day you’ll live whatever you imagine.”

“I always hated seeing this,” Eilwen sighed. “Yet, nonetheless she accepted his deal, and left her life of before.”

The girl reached out, her hand almost as bony as Ayu’s. She grasped Akeldama’s, and they both disappeared. 

“She was the first to be a part of Akeldama’s reign, and the first to discover the true cost of joining him before the rest of us.” She reset the watch. “Akeldama began recruiting multiple others after her.”

Trees grew around the two and surrounded them by their branches and roots. The sky was blocked by fresh green leaves though way up above creeped a sip of grey. Ayu would have kept his face up, viewing the height of the trees, but a man passed by in a rush.

Ayu stumbled over in surprise, and once he gained balance again, he found the man at his sight. The tall man paced all over the trees, humming a tune off-pitch and off-beat. He adjusted his poignant ginger hair back over and over without an avail to fix his loose hairs. His other hand carried a bouquet of pond flowers and four-leaf clovers drenched all around, including his own suit from fallen down petals. 

After groaning, the man took off with dangling hair on his side. Eilwen walked with him. “Thirty years later in the 1640s, when we were depressingly thriving, a man named Christopher Broichet had joined, originally known as Felicette.” 

Ayu tiptoed around fake branches and rocks. “Are we gonna follow him for all this time?”

“Yes? Is it challenging?” 

“No,” he gave her. “Catching up isn’t gonna be hard at all-” He tripped as soon as he swore. 

Eilwen shook her head and proceeded. It forced Ayu to bring his weight back together and rush back. “It isn’t that long of a walk.”

“It’s not the walk,” Ayu huffed, “It’s the forest! Everything’s small and it’s kinda dark.” 

Eilwen told him, “You’ll get used to it in time.”

He ignored the comment. Grumbling while stepping over a log.

“He had caught the attention of Alice, surprisingly considering her stoic-ness at the time, but they’d quickly become the society’s lovers.”

The bark walls opened to another open field, though with a cottage by the side and a leafless tree far in the midst. Alice had sat there waiting, dressed in a fine gown and her hair tied within a bun. 

Felicette dashed towards her, clamping his heels on the ground to make a full stop once he met her. 

“I have a good reason for being late!” He handed her the bouquet. 

Alice picked up a clover from the pile almost falling over. “You must like these, don’t you?”

Sitting down with her, he smiled. “I think they heavily compliment you.”

“They do, especially with the five others you’ve gotten me.” 

Felicette eyed her. “Shouldn’t those have died already?”

“Of course not,” she exclaimed. “This is Fowls, everything lasts forever here. ‘less you’re human.”

He chuckled at her. “I’d say that’s very unlikely.” His innocent composure gently kissed Alice by the cheek.

Ayu squinted at the two, specifically Felicette. “… He’s Oliver’s dad?”

“Yes, from what she tells us.”

He tilted and shook his head, right as Felicette lifted Alice up into the tree and making her giggle in delight. No, I don’t see it. 

“They brought a nice light to the people.” Soft laughter evoked as the two sat together on the tree. “Christopher had lots of charisma to inspire the land.”

With doubt, Ayu nodded. “Do you see that with Oliver,” he asked.

A thump was heard from the distance. The two turned to see Felicette fallen from the tree. “… That’s difficult to say, especially with the intelligence difference.” Nothing necessarily interesting occurred then, so Eilwen continued her lesson. “Throughout the years, it came to notice that he, along with many others in his movement, stopped following Akeldama’s order of murder.”

“Years?”

“Akeldama was lenient on it for a few decades.” A click from her pocket was heard. “However, eventually…”

Flames appeared again. Rising smoke brought Ayu to a cough as he stumbled in the old environment. “Why does this one feel more real? -”

Eilwen swatted ashes away. “I remember it more,” she answered, “That’s all.” 

Ayu’s eyes squinted from the burning sensation only to meet a body in front of him: stabbed in multiple parts of their limbs and torso, dripping of blood and a black substance. He choked at the sight and blinked nonstop in surprise. In wide eyes, he shook up to view the dead face of Oliver’s father. 

“1701, November 1st, Christopher was executed in the eyes of all of us. Akeldama said to have done it as a warning for those who rebelled, and have people working properly again. Though, the opposite happened.” 

Ayu stared at the body which soon corroded into nothingness. … Oliver wasn’t born in the 1700s. 

“The society began to die out afterwards in lost hope. Assisted suicides began occurring and succeeding to the point that only few of us were left.”

The scene fast forwarded in front of them. The flames and houses faded into grey ashes. A sense of the world went numb again for Ayu. “Akeldama seemed prepared for this event however, because hours later, he brought something new.” 

Two figures walked in the distance. Ruins crowded over them, courting to their soft, patted steps. One of the figures revealed themselves more clearly than the other. His small stature shadowed the other with only the tiniest difference of height. Long black hair dusted around his face as he seemed to be shaking in ashes. Yet, the taller guided him with a held hand; no clear reaction in sight. 

“He saved a single child from that village he burned.” The child stumbled upon his feet next to Akeldama. “He’s never revealed his true name to us, but he’s referred to as Vittorino.”

The name rung in Ayu’s mind, though the vague memory of ‘Vittorino’ being said was something he could not find. However, at a halt of the scene, Akeldama bent down ever so slightly to Vittorino’s height, facing him eye to eye. Words were spoken to the young one, but unheard in the midst of Ayu. 

“There’s been rumors for ages,” Eilwen said, “that Akeldama picked him up because he was to be a religious sacrifice to the village. But, Vittorino never answered anything we asked.” 

The boy nodded to Akeldama before he was blurred away. Ayu blinked as he had not noticed Eilwen’s click. 

Alice appeared again, along with the young boy, in the darkest depths of the words. Laying against the tree, Vittorino hid from her. While she, peering up above him, attempted conversation. 

“To cope with her loss, Alice tried to get along with Vittorino and help him as the youngest in our society. Though, he never cooperated with her in the end, and grew more akin to Akeldama as years went by.” 

In distraction, Ayu peered his eyes to the setting around them. The abyss and blind color of the forest guided him nowhere, but the faint sense of the nightly color comforted him. A sense of ease cradled him in the unknown dark, while he wondered if that is why Vittorino hid in the land. 

“After the arrival of Vittorino, Akeldama seemed to have found another practical way of gaining followers.” Another child appeared from the dark in wandering, catching the attention of Alice. She eyed in shock with the blood found in vague sight on the kid. “Then started the second era, where he began handpicking and ‘rescuing’ children. Raising them to be sick and sinister.”

And just like that, the world disintegrated into the nothingness of the original room. “For the most part, Alice was left alone.” Ayu noticed Eilwen’s direction at him. “Then all of a sudden, she claimed she was going to have a child of hers and Christopher.”

“But-” 

“We imagined she’s gone mad, but once she explained herself, it seemed that the wish child was a blessing and a curse.”

Ayu gnawed his cheek in confusion. “But… how was he made then?”

“That is another thing I’m unable to say, sadly.” Sighing crept over her breath as she wrestled in her pockets. “And I believe that’s all you needed to know, correct?”

Ayu copied her pocketing movements. “Can’t tell if this was even useful or not. All I really know now is that Akeldama still sucks and Oliver seriously has a weird family.” 

“Well, that’s an excellent summary.” Eilwen walked across from him and onto the door, placing her hand on the handle. “Now then, Cecily should have had plenty of time to talk with Oliver. We should get going.” 

Before she could open the door, Ayu stopped her. “W-wait.”

“What is it?”

“How did you get here then? ‘Cause you told me about Alice and all her stuff.”

Eyes widened, she shuffled. “That’s rather unnecessary information.”

“But you were a part of this too.”

“I got here by the dumbest of means,” she spat. 

A light clicked in Ayu’s mind. “You were dumb too?”

“In all fairness, yes.” She squeezed onto the handle. “I was… in love with my dearest friend, and we were both poor peasants. Yet I was put in an arranged marriage for my family to have some riches, and I had to leave her behind.”

“But why did you come here?”

“Simple. I thought it was unfair for her to stay poor and Akeldama noticed. My contract was by the terms that she would take my place in life and have all the fortunes of food and luxuries.”

Ayu blinked. “That’s… really nice.”

She scowled. “It was my luck in living. If it weren’t for my contract, people would’ve claimed me as a witch for charming the noble and executed me.” Hustling against her jacket, her weak voice stated, “She took my place in the end.”

The implications in irony was far too much for Ayu to form words. 

A pause latched between the two of them, but before one could say a word, Eilwen opened the door. “Come on, let’s go.”

***

“Oh, Eilwen! You came at perfect timing!” Alice beamed with a worried smile. “I think just about wrapped up everything with Oliver.” They both were sitting down next to the cottage Ayu viewed in the past. Though before he could mention it, Eilwen walked by him and gave a few words to the other. 

“Please tell me everything went sufficiently.”

“I did all that you advised but you know I can’t speak like that!” Alice hissed in a pout.

A shake of the head and a groan later, “Everything I told you was simple and for you not to go too far.”

The women babbled to each other onwards of their time, to Ayu’s attentional dismay. In disinterest, he sat by Oliver, comfortable against the plain grass, and spoke to him. “I think I just had one of the weirdest history classes.”

With a hand on top of his mouth, Oliver replied, “Better than awkward talking and anxiety from an adult.”

“About what?”

“About me, but she was too nervous about saying anything.”

Glimpsing over to Alice excusing herself to Eilwen, and alongside memory of her past, he said, “Makes sense…” 

However, Oliver’s ears seemed to attend back to Alice and Eilwen in keen study. Ayu imitated. 

“What? You know he doesn’t like people knowing about him!” Alice exclaimed. 

But then came a sigh from Oliver. 

“What,” Ayu asked.

“Alice told me I had to ‘grow accustom’ to eating first before anything else.” 

Cringing shivered in Ayu’s reminder. And yet, the circumstances were dire regardless. “You’d have to at some point.”

“I know but,” he played with the end of his cardigan, “out of anyone here, you’d understand how tough it is.” 

Ayu shifted his gaze away. “I don’t think so.” He nodded at the women. “They seem pretty normal in thinking to me.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but they could be tricking us, Ayu. They- they kill, so they can probably lie too.” 

Eilwen’s lesson flashed through his mind. I doubt it but… “I guess that’s true.” 

Silence evoked them again until Oliver asked suddenly, “What do you think I am, Ayu?” 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he shuffled in his seat, “I guess I’ve just been seen as a lot of things recently. Like a random kid; a monster; the son of immortal assassin parents, one being dead; a kind of intentional mistake; and a canine… it’s all messy. But what do you think?”

Ayu tapped on his feet in thought. Though the answer was quite simple. “I don’t know, Ollie. You’re just another person with a fucked-up life like me, maybe worse, right?”

Oliver shrugged and nodded.

“But I do wanna try and help a little. It’s the least I can do for anything right now.”

The boy, with his pale green eyes, stared at him for that bit of time, wide and light against the dimly grey background. And with his kindly eyes, he smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Bloody Fingers | A Monochrome World | Next >>>

[reverseblackholeofwords]

"You're safe" with the Googles!

Green wakes up on the floor of a bitterly cold room. In fact, his readings tell him that he’s currently in something close to a meat locker. He pushes himself up slowly and only then realizes that his hands are bound behind him. As he looks around, three people enter through a heavy metal door carrying weapons. Green gasps and cowers against one wall of the room as they draw closer.

“Took us a while to find you guys,” one of them says as he kneels down in front of Green and grabs his chin. “You fetch a high price for a bunch of glorified Barbie Dolls.”

“They’re more than that,” another one says, crossing her arms over her chest. “These things are so chock full of cutting edge technology they’re worth their weight in gold.”

“Just wait til the others find out this one is missing. They’re bound to come find it, and then we’ll be rich,” the last one adds with a horrible grin.

Green shakes his head. “They-they won’t c-come for me. I’m n-not even important.” His voice glitches in fear, and the humans look around at each other, trying to see if they buy his story. “Th-they don’t n-need me.”

“I thought I said to get the primary one!” the woman shouts.

The guys kneeling before Green points the barrel of his gun at the glowing core in the android’s chest. “How do we know it’s not lying?”

“Yeah, we can’t trust that thing,” the other guy growls.

Green grits his teeth. He knows who these people are. There’s plenty on the black market who’d like to get their hands on a Google model. Either for the ease of a robotic servant or to break them up for parts, it could make anyone rich, and right now, Green is looking at these people as they lick their lips like he’s nothing more than a meal, and he’s terrified. There’s no way the others will risk coming to find him.

“I’m not lying,” Green says more forcefully. “The others don’t need me, so you better take what you’ve got and go.” With that, he shuts his eyes and leans his forehead against the wall, hoping they’ll shut him down soon so that he doesn’t have to go through the misery of them taking him apart while he’s still operational.

The three humans leave the room as they mutter under their breath to each other, like Green’s supersonic hearing can’t make out what they plan to do with him. It makes his skin crawl, and when he’s finally alone, he feels himself beginning to panic. His muscles lock up. His brain goes into overdrive trying to assess a way out, but there’s no means to escape.

Whatever they used to tie him up is made to hold things like him. He’s not going anywhere.

Then one of them returns, the one that got in his face earlier. He doesn’t have a gun this time, just a kit of tools. “You know… I kinda think you know where the others are, and if I take enough pieces of you apart, you might get it through that computer brain of yours to tell me where I can find ‘em.” He tilts his head to the side. “They say you things can feel pain in a way. Is that true?”

Green sets his jaw. “You can tear me apart piece by piece, and I will never tell you where the others are.”

“Suit yourself.” He drops the kit on the ground and pulls out an instrument specifically for removing the outer plating of a Google model and exposing the delicate wiring beneath. Once he disables Green’s movement, he starts with Green’s torso and moves on to his arms and legs, wrenching off the plating piece by piece and casting it aside in a growing pile.

Green watches him go through the bag and pull out a pair of pliers. “Let’s see what happens when we play around with those pain sensors, eh?” He digs through Green’s wiring until he finds the ones he’s looking for, and when he attaches a device to it, Green feels his world explode.

An electric shock jolts through his body. His brain becomes addled in a haze of pain as the man asks him. “Where are they?” Green opens his mouth, but no words form as he moves his lips. Another shock wrenches a horrible metallic scream from his throat. “Where are the others?”

Green shakes his head back and forth, preparing himself for another round of the inescapable pain. He shuts his eyes as shock after shock sends him so far into the oblivion of scattered ones and zeroes that he thinks his circuits will be fried. Then it stops, and he waits. And waits. But there’s not another shock.

He opens his eyes, and Red leans over him. There are words coming out of his brother’s mouth, but Green can’t seem to hear them. He still feels panic. Those other humans, the ones with the guns, they’ll know the other Googles are here. They’ll capture them. They might torture them, too. No, they shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t have come!

But Red shakes his head as his voice finally reaches Green’s ears. “You’re safe.” Red glances at Google and Oliver who are busy dragging away the man that was torturing Green. “You’re safe. We took care of the others, and they won’t ever hurt you again.”

Green blinks a few times and then mutters, “You came… I didn’t think… you’d come for me.”

Red furrows his brow. “Of course, we came.” He gathers Green up in his arms and squeezes him in a hug like Ollie does when he wants to show that he cares. “We’d fall apart without you, Green bean.”

“Come on,” Google says as he comes back to the twins. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Red looks down at Green and asks gently, “Can you walk?” When Green shakes his head, his brother lifts him up. “Okay, it’s going to be okay.”

Green leans his head against Red’s. “Thanks, dummy.”

“No problem, nerd,” Red says, and they follow Google and Ollie out to safety.

[jodiwalker]

TATBT Recommends: 'The Haunting of Hill House,' AKA, Spooky 'Parenthood'

"Ghosts can be a lot of things: a memory, a daydream... but most times they're just what we want to see."

**This article originally appeared in the TATBT newsletter. No spoilers beyond the first episode!**

Steven Crain uses these words to undermine the idea of "real" ghosts in the earliest moments of this ghost story, immediately establishing himself as The Haunting of Hill House’s skeptical audience surrogate (although I trust that we are all much less of a drag than Steve, while simultaneously being just as hot as him).

Series creator Mike Flanagan then spends the next 10 episodes proving to us and to Steven, in the most frightening ways possible, that just because the ghosts of Hill House can be explained doesn't make them any less real — and no amount of logical explanation can rid Steven or his family of the ghosts that bind them together. Trauma is not logic-bound, and neither are the scars it leaves behind.

The Haunting of Hill House dropped on Netflix a week ago, and while I knew it would be an extremely loose adaptation of Shirley Jackson's fearsome 1959 gothic horror novel of the same name, I surely could not have guessed that the malleable nature of that adaptation would turn this haunted house story into what I've been referring to as...Spooky Parenthood.

And that’s a compliment. Prepare yourself for a gushing recommendation,; although I do discourage you from watching Hill House with the lights off, a full bladder, or in the near vicinity of anything that casts a shadow. The list of things that made me do a double-take, followed by a full 20-second stare down to see if they moved again include: the shadow of a sink faucet, every open door in my house, and the reflection of my own face in the TV when I finally turned Hill House off.

The Haunting of Hill House follows the Crain family at two different points in their lives: the summer when they briefly lived in a gorgeous, super haunted Victorian manor that was "born bad," and then 26 years later when a great tragedy forces them to reckon with the ways in which that house never left them, no matter how long ago they left it. The nonlinear nature of this family story might lend itself more glaringly to a This Is Us comparison, but the thing is...I'm the one making said comparison, and I think Parenthood is a far superior family drama to This Is Us.

And The Haunting of Hill House is, indeed, an excellent family drama. Who knew?! I love a good scare, especially around Halloween, so I set into Hill House expecting to do a little doom, make a little ghost, get scared tonight. All those things happened, but I also found myself crying repeatedly — a reaction to entertainment I both cherish and live in fear of. The cleverness of this series is that Flanagan understands that horror can be doubly horrifying when its rooted in care.

After getting to know the Crain family, you don't just want these people not to be tormented by ghosts because ghosts are the worst; you don't want them not to be tormented by ghosts because you care for them, in that same complicated way they care for each other in the midst of their own grief and tragedy.

The scares of Hill House aren’t just frightening...they’re sad. And surely there is nothing more frightening than despair. So the question remains: can you enjoy watching a series that asks you to repeatedly bare your second-hand soul in a sea of self-reflective human tears? 

Parenthood and The Haunting of Hill House say yes you can, and you will probably love it all the more precisely because of that emotional connection.

With style and empathy, Hill House coaxes viewers into caring for a family who turn away from their shared trauma and mental health at every turn. It makes you care for them so hard, you won't even give up on them when those turns so often reveal floating men in bowler hats and long-haired ladies with disturbing 90-degree angles in their necks.

Because of that time spent cowering under beds and around corners with the terrorized younger Crains, you understand why older Luke would turn to drugs; why Shirley would build up walls so steep no one can get in; why Theo would give so much to her work and so little to herself; why Nell would find the allure of her mother's own mysterious demise irresistible in the wake of numbing personal tragedy; and why Steve...

Well, Steve is just kind of sanctimonious and rude, but he's an eldest child with a superiority complex, and when building a family drama, it's important to depict accurate family dynamics. We need look no further than Adam and Kristina Braverman to know that just because someone is annoying doesn't mean they're not bringing a necessary ingredient to the familial table.

Sorry oldest children. — signed, ME, an endlessly lovable youngest child; a more reliable Crosby, if you will.

Of course, the youngest child in this scenario is Nell, a touch on the unreliable side because at only 6-years-old when her parents moved her to Hill House, she and her twin Luke were most vulnerable the spectral happenings within. A child cannot use logic or happenstance to explain away what's right in front of them — they can only see what's there. It's no surprise that being told what’s right in front of you is actually all in your head could leave psychological scars so lasting they'd lead grown-up Nell to...

Well, you’ll see.

If you don't like horror or earnestness, there's a good chance you won't like The Haunting of Hill House. But if you like even one of those things, this weird hybrid of a series might just sway you into liking the other. To call it "fun" would not exactly be correct on account of all the oppressive grief and sorrow and whatnot. But it thrills in that way only a truly spooky story can, and the family at its center is so thoroughly engaging.

Undoubtedly, life is a far more difficult journey for the Crains than it was for the Bravermans, but I am here to tell you, the healing that awaits them at the end of this battle is worth the fights and frights, if you’re willing to take the trip with them.

Oh that's right — this show is scary as hell and it gets a (mostly) happy ending. A few other helpful things to know going in:

THE CASTING

I've said repeatedly that Flanagan takes his time establishing empathy for the Crain family through recognizable sibling dynamics, and familial grief and devotion, but there is one thing he employs that establishes connection immediately...

The Crains are all smokin’ gorgeous, starting with their parents played by Henry Thomas in a pair of spooky-but-whatever-I'm-into-it blue contacts and Carla Gugino who has been maybe the most beautiful woman in the world for like 20 years running. The woman does not age, she just spawns cute little versions of herself who grow up to be beautiful, haunted adult iterations of herself. And the only thing I like more than a group of unreasonably hot characters...

Is the perfect casting of miniature versions of those characters. Seriously, I know y'all like This Is Us, but eat your fucking heart out Mandy Moore's painted-on wrinkles. The kids in that show are cute and they bear a passing resemblance to their adult counterparts, sure, but look at this:

Elizabeth Reaser (grown-up Shirley) and Lulu Wilson (l'il Shirley and also Camille's ghost sister in Sharp Objects) look...exactly alike??? It is wild. And it just goes on from there...

I've hardly even mentioned Theo, the coolest Crain sibling by far, played by the impossibly gorgeous Kate Siegel in full-size, and by the most prolific child actor of her generation, McKenna Grace, in fun-size.

I have mentioned Steve, but it's worth noting that much of his insufferable adult characteristics are assuaged by the fact that his younger self (Paxton Singleton) is a highly endearing little preteen nugget, and his older self is played by hot ass Michiel Huisman pretending to be a nerd by always carrying around a pair of lucite-framed glasses, but never actually wearing them.

And, oh the twins; these poor, poor twins who have just the most adorable faces, you can almost understand how a ghost would want to get all up in there for a squeeze. Given all these Honey-I-Shrunk-the-Actor magic tricks, it could only be intentional that tiny bespectacled Luke (Julian Hilliard who must have Jacob Tremblay absolutely shaking) grows up to be Oliver Jackson-Cohen who could legitimately play Captain America post-experiment. 

The camera spends a lot of its 10-hour run time zoomed-in on the face of little Nelly (Violet McCraw), so it's a delight every time you're struck once more by how much grown-up Nell (Victoria Pedretti) looks exactly like an enlarged version of her child self...even if every zoom of grown-up Nell is not a delight in and of itself.

That’s from the first episode! It’s not a spoiler, really! You’ll just have to watch!

IT'S THE SUMMER OF 1992

The Mall of America is opening, Ross Perot thinks he should run for President, and the Crain family have just moved to Hill House with intentions of flipping it to make enough money for their "forever home." It's difficult to immediately tell what time period the Crains are in when they move into Hill House because Olivia, the warm but occasionally possessed Crain mother is prone to swanning around the drafty mansion in velvet robes and wedges.

So, sometimes you might feel like it's 1970, but knowing from the beginning that it's 1992 could be helpful to your viewing experience.

The present-day timeline is 26 years later, and this will make it all the more curious as to why they brought in Timothy Hutton to play a 26-years-later Henry Thomas when Timothy Hutton is only 10 years older than Henry Thomas, but...should I just show you the young-and-old Shirley comparison again, and what say we forget all about this misstep??

THIS IS EPISODIC TELEVISION

The first five episodes of Hill House are building blocks, each one told from a different Crain sibling's perspective. I don't normally like to say this because it can make a viewer hyper-aware of their own viewing experience, but you gotta stay vigilant when there are ghouls peeking out from every dark corner anyway, so here goes: Just give it a few episodes! You might not find yourself enthralled in the first one or two, but the build is so enjoyable along the way. Y'know, if you find secondhand suffering and personal terror enjoyable (I doooo).

And once you make it to episode 5 — Nell's episode — you might not shake it for days. I certainly would not recommend watching it right before bedtime or in any sort of rush. I can think of few other entertainment experiences so suspenseful and conclusive; so terrifying and moving all at once.

And that emotional climax makes the perfect entry point to the marathon that is episode 6, which plays out like a stage production in only five continuous shots, the longest one running 17 minutes straight.

And this is where I warn you that some people who have loved the series have not loved the final episode. I am not one of those people because I'm sappy as hell and I love a perfectly tied ribbon around an oozing, molding, rotten, terror-wrapped package.

No, the emotion-heavy resolution of Hill House is not subtle, but family resolutions rarely are. They take time, and work, and they cannot be passive. Deep wounds — cuts that have been kept open for a lifetime — must be healed with intention. The ghosts that have haunted the Crain family for decades haven't disappeared by the time the final credits roll, but acknowledging that they were ever there in the first place is comfort enough.

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[breezeob]

Kingdom of Maria

Kingdom of Maria : Chapter 4 : Red AO3 Link <--- All tags/warnings are here as well

Eren woke the next morning alone in his bed. Levi always left him sometime in the night to keep their secret, but the boy wished he could stay. He wished Levi would be the one to wake him up, maybe with a kiss-

“Good morning your royal highness!” A bright voice interrupted Eren’s thoughts and he blearily looks over at the person whom it belonged to. “I’m Hange Zoe, one of the members of the court, friends with your father, you see. He’d like you to meet him in his personal study.”

Eren groans out and stretches before sitting up in his bed, locks of hair falling over his features. “Alright.” He complains, then crawling out of that bed and heading for his dresser. He was still dressed in the same clean bed shorts that Levi had slipped onto him the night before. The brunette was especially thankful for that, otherwise he’d be in a rather embarrassing situation.

“I’ll call one of the servants in to dress you, Prince Eren.”

“I can do it myself,” the boy says quickly, not wanting to deal with all the hubbub of being dressed by a small army of people he didn’t even know. After all, his nanny at the estate had long since taught him to dress himself just fine. There weren’t enough servants at his old home to stress about dressing someone who was old enough to do it themselves.  

“Ah well, I’ll wait outside the door for you!” The voice is still just as bright, and it grates on Eren’s ear drums. Hange would probably be less annoying at a more favourable hour.

Eren watches them leave before turning to the dresser and pulling out some garments he thought would be suitable enough. A white chemise under blue silk jacket made thin because of the warm sticky weather that continued from yesterday. Then he pulls on a pair of white breeches and black boots. With a turn, he can stare at himself in the large mirror that covered a portion of one of his bedroom walls. A seat stood in front of that mirror, along with some items for him to freshen up. He steps over and plops down into the seat. Gazing at his own reflection, he’s able to fix up his hair with a comb, replace his earrings with new ones, and set a smaller and less decadent version of his father’s crown on his head. It was silver in color, was encrusted only with a few sapphires, and the wings on the sides did not rise as high as the ones on the King’s crown.

He takes another moment to really look at himself, at his olive skin, his green eyes and dark hair. Eren looked nothing like his mother, and barely like his father. The boy wonders idly if that’s why the Queen never spent much time with him, the fact that he does not resemble her in the slightest. He pushes that thought out of his head before looking back down at the shelf where he had retrieved the comb from. A little bottle and other knick knacks that Eren didn’t recognize rested there. Out of curiosity he investigates them. He lifts the bottle first and smells the open end, only to cough at the strong scent; cologne. Then he lifts the first decorated container to find a fine white powder and a puff inside. He has no idea what it’s used for, so he doesn’t bother playing with it. The next one contained a reddish powder that Eren figured must be blush. Was it common for noble boys to wear blush? Was it given to him by accident? By joke? He doesn’t know, but he certainly has no intention of putting it on without that knowledge. Not that he even knew how to put it on the first place.

Finally he stands, and after taking a deep breath, heads to the door. The prince opens it up to find Hange standing in the hallway, chatting away with one of the guard. Eren didn’t want to eavesdrop, but her voice was so loud it would be impossible not to unless he interjected.

“Uh well, feel free to lead me off to the study, I’m afraid I don’t know...where it is,” Eren interrupts as politely as he can.

“Oh of course you wouldn’t!” Hange says, bowing slightly before apologizing. “Come, come, my Prince, we’re off!” With that Hange is already speed walking down the hall, any conversation that had been held with the guard was completely forgotten. Eren follows her quickly, and the guard after him. They struggled to keep up.

He was lead through the hallway and to an offshoot with a fancy looking door, almost a smaller replica of the city gates. Hange knocks on it, and as they wait for a reply, Eren takes the time to look over what is painted on the face of the door. Two wings, similarly designed like the ones that were painted on every guard's shield. One blue, and one white. It was the colors of his family, the colors that his ancestor Maria had chose after she claimed the monarchy for the Jaeger family. There were numerous stories explaining in different ways why she chose those colors, and to why she chose the falcon as their sigil. Some said she had a pet falcon, one that would help her in battle by pecking out the eyes of archers. Eren wasn’t sure if he believed that, but before he can think on it more, a voice from within the room dictates that they are to come in. Hange opens the door and gestures at Eren politely, directing him inside.

The study was even larger than Eren’s bedroom. Long and tall bookcases covered two of the walls, and the entire floor was carpeted in a creamy white color. In the center was a table. The table was large, enough for 12 people to sit at it comfortably, but it was still perfectly square. Made from a dark wood, in the center of the table the Jaeger falcon was carved into the surface beautifully. Eren’s eyes trailed over the twists and turns of it, the way the feathers jutted out just slightly from the otherwise flat surface. Beyond that was a desk at which his father sat, looking contemplative and worried. When he and his son make eye contact, he only sighs deeply and gestures for him to sit down at the center table before getting up and following him there himself.

“You wanted to speak with me, father?” Eren prompts, looking slightly nervous. His father was acting like he was going to give him bad news, and that expectation sent his stomach reeling.

“I did.” His father begins. His voice is rather soft, but also clear. “I wanted you to be aware of some things. I couldn’t oversee your education myself, and in addition, some recent developments in the world are...pertinent to our family. To you. So it is important that you know.”

Oh no. Eren hoped this wasn’t a pop quiz, he hated studying, he hated his teachers back at the estate. “Well?”

“Do you remember how our Kingdom was founded?”

That was an easy enough question. “Yes, uh, like over 100 or so years ago, the Great Queen Maria Jaeger the First defeated The Rosian Empire in a battle, and then sowed seeds of rebellion throughout Rose’s holds. The uprisings forced Rose to cower and return to its homeland, where they remain today. Queen Maria allowed the holds to either retain their sovereignty, or to become part of her Kingdom. The people were so thankful for her overthrowing the Rosians, who were tyrants, that they became part of Maria’s new Kingdom. And that’s why Maria is the largest nation.”

“Correct. Maria was your great great great grandmother. We never had a very large family, but now…” He trails off and then begins again. “You are the only heir to our name right now. Once I am gone you will have everything. Rose wants you dead. More than they want anything else. They still hold a grudge against us, even though the decades have passed by. If you die, we have no heir and our government falls apart. There is no system in place for the possibility of no members of the family being left. Would my wife’s family claim the crown? My grandmothers? Perhaps our treasury master, or the general of our armies? It would be hell.”

“We don’t have any other family? Didn’t grandfather have a brother and a sister?” Eren looks skeptical, how could he really be the only one?

“He does, but his sister, Maria the Second, joined the church when she was young. She is not having any offspring. Neither is my uncle. He disappeared as a young man. We don’t know if he is alive or dead.” Grisha shakes his head at his son. “You are it, Eren. You are the end of the line.”

“Why are you telling me this? I already knew I was in danger. That’s why I grew up far away. That is why I’m back now.” The boy can feel his body begin to heat up, and this time it had nothing to do with the weather. It was purely emotional.

“Rose has built up their navy and army once more by colonizing far away lands.” The King explains, voice strained now. “They… we believe it will not be long until they attack one of our holds. We are preparing for war. They’ve always held a bitter resentment for us. And an undying tenacity to conquer the world.”

“Then I should be on the front lines.” Eren decides, looking at his father with determination as he slams his fist down the table, “I should be-”

“No. You should not. You are not a soldier, not a warrior; you’re just a boy.” Grisha looks insistent, worried.

“I’m sure there are boys younger than me out there! And...no, I’m a- I should be a leader. I should become someone that people would be willing to follow. Like you. Like Maria!” He’s getting even more worked up now, thinking again of all the stories he heard of his long since deceased family members. Stories of them winning great battles. His own namesake, the first Eren Jaeger; he was a fighter. His battleaxe hung above the mantel at the Jaeger Estate.

“Maria was trained for years before she even set foot on a battlefield!” His father explains, looking pained now. But how could he explain to his son, who he barely knew, why he couldn’t be the prince that the world was asking him to be?

“Argh! Then start training me now! Levi has been training me, what about you! What about my mother?” His voice is getting louder, he knows it but he cannot help himself. “You’ve barely done anything for me other than stick me in that estate! I don’t feel like a prince! I wasn’t raised around this shit.”

“Watch your language Eren.”

“This is ridiculous. I finally show to you that I want to be a Prince, that I want to be a leader, that I want to uphold our name, and you shut me down? What else am I supposed to do? Sit here?!” He’s enraged, his voice reverberating sharply off the stone walls of his father’s study.

“No. You will be going with Sir Levi Ackerman into hiding again.” Grisha drops the news simply, crossing his arms. It was hopeless now, Eren was already angry, there was no helping it.

Eren stares at his father, mouth agape, cheeks flushed red with anger. His fists were clenched tightly, his knuckles were white in contrast to his otherwise tanned skin. “How, could you possibly-!”

“You have to live. It would be irresponsible for you not to protect yourself as best you can.”

Before Eren could respond, he heard a door slam, and familiar footfalls nearing the table.

“It would be damn near suicidal to do anything else, Eren.”

Eren turns to look at Levi with a red hot glare. He knew. He knew his father was going to request this of him again, and he was on his side. The stoic man leaned back against the door, looking down towards the ground. Eren felt like he was avoiding his gaze on purpose.

“You. How could you?!” Eren pushes back from the table, standing as his chair clatters to the floor.

“Calm down, Eren. It’s not worth getting so upset. We’ll continue to train, you’ll get better, then someday you will be a leader. Have a little faith.” Levi’s voice is strong, but quiet, and that’s the end of it. The King tells his son that he is dismissed.

Eren walked briskly into the throne room when he was summoned to meet his betrothed. His mood was still rather awful, and Levi could only hope the younger wouldn’t let those emotions seep into the first meeting with the girl he would be marrying. Eren wasn’t dressed properly, either but his retainer certainly was not going to waste his time trying to get the boy to change into something more appropriate. Arriving in the grand room, Levi spotted the three arrivals. One, the princess no doubt, and two others in traveling armour, carrying heavy bags. The King and the Queen sat atop their usual seats, waiting for their son. The Queen hurries to stand when Eren arrives, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Eren, dear! May I introduce you to Princess Krista Lenz of Sina...” Eren’s gaze traveled from his parents and to the new guest.

Princess Krista was short. Her long blonde hair was tied up into some sort of jeweled capitulation of hair and hair pins. Her gown reached the floor. It was sky blue in color, not unlike her eyes, with accents of gold. Images depicting bears and woodlands were embroidered into the fabric. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Eren was clear headed enough to realize that despite his distaste. After all, their fates were now being tied together.

“It is such a pleasure to meet you, Prince Eren,” the girl greets him, holding out her hand to him with one of the sweetest smiles he had ever seen, but there was something off about it. It felt fake. Forced. He wondered what sort of personality this girl really had, trapped behind her facade. Quickly Eren dropped on one knee and took her hand to kiss it, as was the courtesy.

“You as well, princess,” he responds simply before rising back to his feet, still holding her hand gently in his. “Would you like to take a walk with me? Our gardens are beautiful. If you enjoy that sort of thing.”

“I would like that very much,” she tells him, voice upbeat and friendly. Eren’s voice was less so, making it obvious he was less than pleased at his current situation. Levi had no idea, even after knowing the boy for so long, how to get him act with some more tact. It was hard enough making Eren do things he didn’t want to do, let alone making him do it with a smile on his face. He watches as the prince leads her off to the gardens without complaint, relieved at least at that. He finds himself then alone with the Princess’s two retainers as the regular palace guards follow after the couple.

The first one was a woman, a tall one. She had freckles that dotted her brown skin. Although she was easily recognized as female, Levi would certainly not describe her as feminine. Her hair was hidden in the helmet she wore, so he had no idea how short or long it may have been. He wonders a bit how a woman was able to hold such a position in a traditionalist and religious kingdom like Sina. But then again, it was none of his business.

The other one was a man built like a bear. Or not a man, because he still looked rather young. Perhaps around Eren’s age, he figured. He had a complexion more similar to the Princess: pale, blue eyes, blonde hair. He might have been handsome in the conventional sense, but was far too stocky to take the cake. His nose may have been a bit too prominent as well.

“I’m Levi.” The knight introduces himself, holding his hand out in greeting to the woman first. No hand comes to shake with his.

“We know.” The man says, even as Levi stares at the woman, obviously addressing her first.

“Then we’re at an imbalance. You know who I am, but I have no idea who you are.” Call it intuition but Levi had a bad feeling about these two. He knew to trust his gut, and would keep tabs on Eren in their presence. However, he couldn’t go to the King simply on a feeling.

“I’m Ymir. And this is Reiner.” They stare each other down for a few moments more before a servant hurries over to the three, insisting that they show the new arrivals to their chambers. Levi lets them go, and reminds himself to warn Eren about the two, to make sure they would never get him alone.

It wasn’t until sunset that Eren and Levi found themselves alone again. This time they sat together on Eren’s balcony, overlooking the gardens. A simple fence blocked them from a fall, but it was roomy enough that the prince could sit with his feet dangling off the edge. Levi doesn’t sit in the same way, merely cross legged next to him as he peels an orange with his knife.

“How was the girl?” Levi finally asks, knowing Eren was probably desperate to tell him all about it.

“She’s too nice,” Eren complains.

“Too nice? That’s a new one. Explain.”

“She’s all smiles all the time, never says no to anything. I feel like I could have asked her to lick the ground and she would have done it.” He shakes his head. “I hate people like that. Pushovers. But I don’t even know if that’s how she really is, you know? Because she sounds so scripted. Like an actress.”

Levi shakes his head, amused at how far Eren was reading into this. “You don’t know a lot of young women. I would chalk it up to that. I’m glad she’s nice to you.”

“Yeah yeah.” Eren pouts. If all young women were like that, he sure knew why he had different tastes.

“By the way, those two she came with. Her liegemen I assume, “ Levi beings, finally having finished peeling the fruit. He breaks it in half and hands one part to Eren, who turns to take it from him, “stay away from them best you can.”

“What? Why?” Eren asks before breaking off a piece of the orange and eating it.

“I have a bad feeling about them. Humor me.”

“If you say so Levi.” Eren shrugs, not thinking it was a big deal anyway. They seemed just fine to him. Besides, the other boy was around his age. Maybe he could befriend him. Maybe he could ask them what those powders in his room were for. No, never mind. The boy wasn’t a noble, so he probably had no idea. Eren looks over to Levi and considers asking him. “Uh,”

“What is it, love?” Levi asks, munching on his own half of the fruit now.

“I have powders in my room, makeup powders. Am I supposed to wear them?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Do you think someone knows about us? And they’re making fun of me by giving me girl things?”

“I don’t know, maybe with how loud you are, but I doubt it. I would have heard the servants gossiping about it. And hmm, now that I think, you are cute when you blush. Some of that makeup would suit you.”

Eren blushes in response and tears his gaze away to look at his lap as he shoves more of the fruit in his mouth. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles as he chews, “I get into it. I can’t help myself.”

Levi shakes his head again, small smile gracing his features. “I know that Eren. I’m teasing you more than anything. But if you don’t want these rumors to spread we have to be more careful. Whispers we can handle, but I don’t want this to escalate into a scandal for you.”

Eren nods, but even as he does he makes a kissy face and points to his lips. “I know I know, I’ll be quiet. Now give me a kiss.”

Levi huffs out of his nose and leans forward to indulge him.

What they don’t know, is that someone in the garden is looking up and watching him in the fading daylight.

[dthoursonpalmer]

RAZE - 065 - A Rising Wind

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The next morning saw us up with the sun, which shone bright over flowing green-gold hills. In the southeast—our heading—deep valleys lay in shadow between towers of gray rock. The rivers churned and rushed, fed by the melt from Lonireilan mountains further south.

A horn called us to gather and Ecena divided our duties. Scouts, camp guards, regulars, the van.

“We have a few special assignments,” she announced, going down a slip of paper. I’d been waiting. Before she could announce the first, I raised my hand. She read off the first item, glanced about the company, her eyes meeting and passing over mine. The next duty, then the next. She ignored me. How would I distinguish myself? Gain back any of the renown I’d lost if I was never given the chance? The muster ended and the others split off with corporals for their assignments, but Ahdan beckoned me over.

I approached Ecena and Ahdan. Another day tending the fire, perhaps? Or ferrying buckets of water from the creek at the bottom of the hill?

“The captain has asked for you,” Ecena said, putting away her slip of paper and strapping on her shield. Ahdan handed her over her spear. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Don’t embarrass us, il-Lonirel.” Ahdan took up his own weapons and pointed off over the hills. “You know where the captain’s camp is?”

Only and idiot could miss it. There were flags and banners, a cloud of dust from the cathelles  and camels. Great tents, larger than all the rest. “Yes, sir,” I said.

“Go on. You’re expected before they march out.”

“Better run,” Ecena said with a cruel smile.

Of course I would. Chosen for a special assignment by the captain? I spun about without wasting a breath on their disdain and made haste for the captain’s camp.

The climb was a long one. My legs were burning by the time I dragged myself, panting, into the center of the camp. Everywhere, lieutenants and guards ran about, readying their charges, bearing messages and orders. I dodged camels and carts and hustling troupes of soldiers and made my way to where de Trastorces stood behind a table beneath a raised pavilion. There, I joined a dwindling line of reports and strove to catch my breath before I had to speak.

The chance never came. While I waited, sucking air and trying to calm my heaving chest, a silence seemed to wash around me. Nervous glances were cast my way, and before I could turn, hard fingers pressed into my shoulder. I spun about into the shiny-hard, lacquer face of Weckar.

Seldom had I been so closer to her. The fingers digging into my were like iron rods. Her red mouth was open a little and breath the scent of hot sand, baking earth, wafted out into my face. I cowered beneath those black orbs looking out from her mask of a face, beneath those milky-blue pupils.

“Ah,” de Trastorces voice came from behind me. “Is that the one? Boy, over here.”

I couldn’t turn, but I looked back over my shoulder while Weckar’s fingers kept a grip on my shoulder. “Go with Weckar,” the captain said. “She’s a duty for you. You’re to tell no one what you see or do. Understand?”

I nodded, swallowed. He waved me off and went back to his maps and reports. Weckar spun, raised a hand and curled a finger for me to follow. I did.

Striding along ahead of me, she seemed to glide on the air. A sound followed her, a rushing like the wind in the grasses. Not once did she turn back to ensure I was following, nor did she speak.

We approached a small tent, circular, wide enough for a man to lie down in, behind the massive construction of canvas that was de Trastorces’. At her approach, the banners outside the tent whipped in a sudden gust of wind. They were black with red sigils drawn on them, sigils that made my eyes water, curled and shivered lines that didn’t look stitched so much as drawn out of the fabric. Two men stood guard outside. The faceplates of their paper armor helms were solid expanses of white that covered their eyes and mouths and chins.

As we neared, they reached out and drew open the tent flaps. They didn’t speak. They didn’t turn or give any sign that we were heard.

Weckar passed in, into the dark, and I hesitated before following.

“Quickly, Heshim,” she said without turning. The words sighed out of her. I shook with terror, with the mention of my old name, but stepped inside. The men let the flaps fall closed and we were in darkness.

The smell was awful. I knew it well—blood. Death. The stink of emptied bowels and barely fresh meat.

In the dark, I heard nothing and couldn’t bear to move. It took all my efforts not to lurch back out the way I’d come in.

“Malucente,” Weckar said. Light, light without a source, suffused the dim interior. Weckar was so close I could have touched the stiff white of her long robes, but I covered my mouth at what I saw.

One of ours—a conscript, stripped, lay on the ground. His guts had been spilled out of him. The grass all around had been scythed down to nubs and the leaves lay in a circular pattern, soaked in blood.

“You will bury him,” Weckar sighed. “Take him north, to the bend of the stream where there is an olive tree and a fallen log. You will see the stoneless place by the bank.”

I nodded. I couldn’t speak. My tongue had gone thick and heavy and my breakfast climbed the back of my throat.

The two guards came in, still eyeless. They threw a tarp over the man, wrapped him up, and took him out. Weckar and I followed. There was a dogcart with a single donkey to pull it, a single spade in the back. Their task done, the two men removed their masks, glanced at each other, at Weckar, and hustled away.

“Take him,” Weckar pointed. “Tell no one. I will know.” I believed her.

  *          *          *

  I collapsed into my bedroll without supper. Every time I thought of food, the dead-stink came back to me and I remembered how the tarp had fallen open, revealing a coil of intestine, when I heaved in the first spade-full of dirt. At least sleep would come quickly, even if my mind raced. I’d seldom been so exhausted.

I lay in the dark. From beyond the skin of dim canvas, voices and murmurs, the crackling of fire, snatches of song and laughter, reached my ears. From snatches of conversation, I gathered they’d found a rebel stronghold in the hills. A village that had been walled up, horses and camels, signs of carts and wagons and people going.

The sound of the tent flap. Movement in the dark. I pretended to sleep so whoever it was wouldn’t say anything.

“Hey.” Estevo’s voice. I kept my eyes closed, but then the smell of meat came on so strong and sudden in my nostrils that I heaved. I rolled away, desperate to hold my breath, and then the vomit came up my throat and it was too late.

Estevo muttered an apology while I spat out sick. Someone would find out. If I wasn’t careful, I’d have a black eye before morning when my tent-mates found out.

I sat up and Estevo stared at me in the dark. “Is it the slop? It’s the slop.” I shook my head, in no mood for the jokes. He squinted. “Are you sick?”

“No,” I said stupidly. I didn’t know what to answer. I recalled what Mire Storm had told me about Weckar several winters back. Weckar would know. She could be watching right now. What would I say? No, but Weckar sacrificed one of our own like the Lonireilans sacrifice rabbits to the Imperators. She only used his soul for darkest sorcery, and I buried him in secret in a shallow grave no one will find. Nothing important.

“Not sick, just… I can’t say.”

He stared for a moment. “I’ll eat your share then.” I nodded. He put the plate of rations aside and took up someone’s cast-aside shirt. “Let’s clean that up.”

We did, and Estevo ran off to dispose of the evidence. When he returned, he sat and set to  his second plate with gusto. My stomach had recovered enough that, watching him eat, I regretted my decision to avoid the soup pot that night.

“Big day tomorrow,” Estevo said. “I wanted to make sure you got food. But anyway, The Tash talked to her corporal and got us assigned with her. We’re attacking the rebel village.”

“What? Full force?”

“All of us.” He licked his plate. “I heard the wind is going to pick up at dawn.”

The thought made me shake. I almost threw up again.

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  RAZE – 065 – A Rising Wind was originally published on D. Thourson Palmer