#but there is exactly 1 named plot-relevant street

[thehardkandy]

ive been working on one of my books on and off since 2017 but if i were to get it published and they came up to me asking if i had any outlines for a map or anything i would have to say "absolutely not sorry you can do whatever you want"

[wordsandrobots]

IBO reference notes on . . . the lie of Agnika Kaieru

This is a post about McGillis Fareed.

Originally presented as an antagonist ala the Gundam franchise's 'Char clone' archetype (named after Char Aznable, an expy of the Red Baron by way of the Last of the Romanovs), McGillis turns out to be one of Iron-Blooded Orphans' key protagonists, his initial appearances reframed by an eventual alliance with Martian mercenary group Tekkadan, home to the more obvious lead characters. In large part, it is his story we watch unfold, as he attempts to secure control over Gjallarhorn, the repressive extra-national military in which he serves.

And it's hard to discuss that story without reference to Agnika Kaieru, the man credited with founding Gjallarhorn to counter AI-controlled 'mobile armours' three hundred years earlier. The apocalyptic conflict between humanity and the armours known as the Calamity War is the source of the current social order, not to mention the titular Gundam mecha. Agnika is responsible for leading Gjallarhorn to victory, an achievement for which McGillis idolises him. He is also a non-character, haunting events solely through McGillis' commentary, at once vitally important and entirely absent.

I thought it would be interesting to examine how that works. I ended up writing 7000 words about it. Spoilers for everything and content warnings for mentions of child sexual abuse.

The character who wasn't there

If we take McGillis at his word, his personal philosophy was defined by reading a biography of Gjallarhorn's founder at a young age. More specifically, at a young age, while being sexually abused by his adoptive father, Iznario Fareed, who had extricated him from working at a brothel, a situation he was previously forced into after being abducted while homeless on the streets. The Life of Agnika Kaieru was a light in this darkness, offering a path out of a situation that, though seemingly improved from his original impoverishment, continued to be highly coercive and harmful. McGillis was made heir to a powerful family, yet had to sneak out of his patron's bed in the middle of the night, naked, with visible bruises across his body. He was desperately in need of hope.

The abuse appears to have been baked into this plot-beat from the start, with hints to it provided at multiple points during Season 1. Iznario being accompanied by a blonde boy and blonde young man (echoing the excesses of Carta Issue, a character who surrounds herself with McGillis lookalikes owing to an unrequited crush), McGillis' reluctance to spend the night at the Fareed estate, and the questions of legitimacy surrounding his inheritance all take on darker significance when the truth is revealed in Season 2. We may safely assume he was always planned to be reacting to this form of exploitation.

I suspect Agnika was a later creation. Comparing the outline of the Calamity War provided at the very start of the show to the ways it later becomes relevant suggests a considerable amount of fleshing-out in the interim. There are few outright contradictions, or at least, few we cannot explained by assuming in-fiction ignorance. Nevertheless, the importance of Agnika as a historical figure, the myths surrounding his mobile suit, and the very existence of the mobile armours each enter without previous set-up. This is inelegant, in the manner of much of IBO's exposition: workmanlike additions to propel the plot along, extending exactly as far as required and no more. But we cannot discount their importance to the final result and since McGillis aspires, in a very real sense, to become his hero, it is instructive to consider what the show tells us about Agnika.

Immediately we run into the fact we know nothing at all about him as a person. The only 'canonical' description of his personality was provided by the series' director, who compared him to 'the hero in a shonen manga': a charismatic character who always saves his friends. Apart from reinforcing my belief any spin-off set during the Calamity War would be more typical fare than Iron-Blooded Orphans turned out to be, this tells us little. Within the story as it plays out, Agnika is blank space. Being three hundred years dead, it does not actually matter what he was like – itself a statement about how people can be forgotten even when their names reverberate through history. Indeed, the thematic parallel to the fates of a large chunk of the cast is a potent one. Time has rendered Agnika a cipher, subject to the judgement of distant strangers, his exact morals and intentions long-since stripped away.

What remains are his legacy and beliefs. That we must speak of these separately is telling. The Seven Stars, descendants of Agnika's fellow Gundam pilots and Gjallarhorn's present-day leadership, show little deference to the man who commanded their ancestors. There are no statues memorialising him and though Gundam Bael has its attendant ghost stories, of Agnika's spirit living on inside and how it will only awake for his true inheritor, it is shuttered away, a monument nobody ever goes to see. One gets the strong impression McGillis is the only person to pay him more than lips service in centuries.

Consequently, McGillis' personal interpretation of Agnika's philosophy is the only window we get on his beliefs, and the most thorough explanation of that interpretation is given to his eleven-year-old child-bride, Almiria Bauduin.

Fairy tales told by a pied piper

From what we see on screen, McGillis is never overtly abusive towards Almiria, to whom he becomes engaged as part of a political scheme. He is pushed into the arrangement by Iznario and in the side-story covering its commencement, he goes out of his way to provide Almiria with the choice he lacks – something that spurs Almiria to form a genuine attachment to him. However, the engagement also serves his personal ambitions extremely well and he unquestionably manipulates her over the course of it (hard to think of another term to describe comforting her on the loss of her brother Gaelio, for which McGillis is himself responsible). We could and probably should label his apparent concern for her emotional wellbeing and indulgence of her desire to be seen as a grown-up as an attempt at grooming her, not in the sexual sense, but to make her a more amenable chess-piece. On the other hand, McGillis prevents Almiria from killing herself when the truth comes out, at the cost of an injury that severely disadvantages him in battle shortly thereafter – a notable action when her political utility has just evaporated. On the other other hand, this incident prompts him to describe her, quite disdainfully, as 'troublesome'.

What I'm saying is, the question of whether McGillis sees Almiria as a tool or somebody he truly cares for is thorny, as it is for virtually every single character with whom he has a meaningful relationship. Nevertheless, I think we are meant to believe he is being honest when he talks to Almiria about The Life of Agnika Kaieru. What he says fits his actions elsewhere and there are no on-screen indications he isn't being truthful – at least from his perspective – when he credits Agnika's principles with 'saving him'.

McGillis states Agnika wanted a world where “humans could live as humans”; that is, where humans of all backgrounds could compete fairly to achieve their dreams. To a child of low-birth, abused behind closed doors, this is an enticing prospect. McGillis goes on to entice Almiria in turn with the promise of 'loving whomever you wish' and of neither of them being mocked for the age imbalance between them. He concludes the scene by saying it is time to “pry open the door to that world with my own two hands.”

A few episodes later, in an internal monologue, he refers to Agnika as the “greatest symbol of power the world had ever seen. Authority, vigour, might, capability, vitality, influence, as well as brute force.” Inspired by this man's life story, he is determined to usurp rule over Gjallarhorn and finally address the want of power that had defined his own life since birth.

Like everything to do with Agnika, what this tells us about his principles is somewhat vague. Quite literally the child-friendly version (sort of; McGillis openly tells Almiria he contemplated suicide prior to reading the book and is likely a poor judge of age-appropriateness). Still, the philosophy described combines individualism with egalitarianism. The stated goal is a level playing field, free of artificial advantages like wealth or social status, where everyone can pursue their dreams as far as they are each able. This is implied to be a natural state for humanity, such that achieving it would be a form of reclamation. Further, the kinds of power McGillis lists are personal – physical strength, intelligence, charisma – and he works obsessively to cultivate them. We don't get confirmation that self-improvement is another of Agnika's ideals, but it would fit from what is presented.

If you are anything like me, your brain will have turned to all sorts of weird capitalism fans and their buzzwords for justifying frantic competition between people at every level of society. Phrases like 'personal responsibility', 'rugged individualism', and 'rational self-interest', possibly with a side-helping of – gods help us – libertarianism. You may also be asking, if this is what Gjallarhorn's founder espoused, how did it end up enforcing disparities between different populations, oppressing workers and maintaining social hierarchies, at large and within its own walls?

To which I might reply, have you looked at what all those weird capitalism fans get up to, recently? This is an unsatisfying answer, though, and to properly examine how Agnika's legacy intersects with the dreaded c-word, we need to take a couple of side-steps, starting with why it should be a natural connection to make within the context of this show.

A digression into narratives about capitalism

Iron-Blooded Orphans is one of the few entries in the franchise to directly engage with capitalism as a major source of global problems. That probably sounds a little strange if you're aware of the the reputation Gundam has as a whole, so let me explain.

[Also, let me remind everyone the definition of capitalism is “an economic system based on the private ownership of the means of production and their operation for profit.” (Wikipedia; emphasis mine). It's worth being exact.]

When the concept of space colonies is introduced in 1979's Mobile Suit Gundam, they are framed as a response to global overpopulation and the consequent ecological decline of the Earth (pause to appreciate the massive fuck-off dog-whistle; we'll come back to that in a second). The war the show depicts is presented as a matter of sovereignty, whereby those offloaded into orbit rise up against rule by an indifferent terrestrial government. The colonies themselves are cities built within artificially landscaped environments inside O'Neil cylinders. They do not appear to serve any commercial purpose in and of themselves; when we see labour happening in space, it is in service to the colonies, rather than something they are for (the Zeon miners in sequel series ZZ; there is also the fuel-collecting Jupiter Fleet but they are a very odd entity and not fleshed out).

Contrast this to IBO where Mars' utility as a source of 'half-metal' is of paramount importance to its political and economic position, and the space colonies are explicitly shown to be factory complexes, company towns, resorts, and prisons. The middle arc of Season 1 is focused on a workers' revolt against the corporation running a particular group of colonies, the Dorts, while the impetus behind spin-off game Urdr Hunt is the lead character's desire to transform his home's fortunes by making it a popular tourist destination. There are also mentions of 'resource satellites' and glimpses of what appear to be colonies built to mine asteroids. And true, it isn't stated whether all the colonies originate as extractive operations and production centres. But those purposes are depicted the reason they are maintained to the present day, removing such dirty businesses far above the 'precious', 'unsullied' Earth (cue 'The Lightship', played with maximum irony).

[Side-note: the Dort Company runs its colonies as a 'public enterprise on behalf of the African Union', implying state ownership. However there are multiple references to 'rich factory owners from Earth', suggesting private control. Best I can figure, the colonies are state-owned while the production facilities inside them belong to private companies? Since everyone appears to work for Dort (every worker we see wears the same green jacket), I'm not certain how that functions. Perhaps the workforce is leased to private factories via the Company? That would be fittingly grim.]

Now to be clear, I am not claiming Gundam as a whole doesn't tackle problems caused or exacerbated by capitalism. The introduction of Anaheim Electronics into the original Gundam timeline marks clear interest in exploring the influence of corporate entities on warfare. We may also – from the outside – interrogate overpopulation concerns as deflecting blame from capital's destructive activities, going hand-in-hand with racism over migration, and obfuscating who exactly gets sent to 'colonise the unknown' (spoilers: it's the poor and vulnerable). I'm unconvinced the original run from Mobile Suit Gundam to Char's Counterattack is intended as commentary in this manner; equally, I don't think it's hard to get there (as Gundam Unicorn somewhat demonstrates).

What I'm trying to articulate is a distinction between 'being about a problem' and 'naming capitalism as the cause'. Most Gundam series tend to depict capital as part of an amorphous blob of 'Earth-sphere corruption' or 'greedy elites'. Even Anaheim acts as a third party in the Earth/space conflict, taking advantage of the war rather than shaping the fault-lines along which it occurs. Additionally, actual money very rarely tends to be a factor in the plot. Groups like Celestial Being from Gundam 00 appear to possess near-infinite budget; Gundam Wing's itinerant teenage terrorists have only erratic and arbitrary issues obtaining supplies (where are you getting the damn ammo, Trowa?!); and even in The Witch From Mercury, where you'd really expect expenditure to matter, it… doesn't. G-Witch toys with access to funds and the requirement to be profitable early on, but overall is more a courtly drama in business drag, unconcerned with why corporations work the way they do. Issues such as the exploitation of vulnerable populations for the sake of driving down costs are gestured to without becoming strictly plot-relevant.

Meanwhile over in IBO, the poverty of the Martian characters is an ever-present threat and come the denouement, whether they have any money left is of paramount importance. The show tells us bullets have a price-tag, using this to drive actions inside a world run for the sake of profit. It is mentioned that productivity in the African Union's colonies is expected to drop following the Dort labourers wining better working conditions, a boon to the competing economic blocs that leads to one of them sheltering Tekkadan in gratitude for helping bring this change about. The reason co-main character Orga Itsuka does not survive episode 48 is because arms-dealer Nobliss Gordon thinks it will be financially advantageous to have him killed. That fellow businessman McMurdo Barriston extends limited aid to Tekkadan after publicly cutting them loose for the sake of the Teiwaz conglomerate's reputation and revenue is highly relevant to his characterisation. And Teiwaz itself is run like a mafia, a riff on yakuza practices that erases the line between big business and organised crime – a hell of claim to make in a story where another of the leads' entire goal is uplifting Mars by playing the economic system.

Now, in my reading the major theme running through Iron-Blooded Orphans is exploitation. An acute depiction of how capitalist societies operate – the amorality of the profit motive, the colonial underpinnings, the sheer, monstrous cost – is a subset of this. I don't feel it's any surprise that an attempt to realistically depict child soldiers and other exploited groups should lead to a detailed rendering of the gears in which the world is currently caught. Equally, I don't think it fair to reduce IBO to being about capitalism, full-stop. Patriarchy, slavery and repressive class structures all have older roots and there is an argument to be made that where it touches those things, the show cares less about them as artefacts of modern economic arrangements than as evils in their own right.

It still manages to say stuff about the functioning of capitalism with more bluntness than most pieces of fiction I've encountered and, speaking as an Englishman, the thing that strikes me most is the decision to make the lynchpin of its world an aristocratically-led military force.

A further digression into aristocratic fables

Aristocracy means 'government by a hereditary elite'. It is sustained via wealth passed down through generations of a small group of families and was one of the key mechanisms by which the feudal system operated, prior to the slow capitalist revolution of the 16th to 18th Centuries. It is often treated as obsolete, having been superseded by more modern forms of 'being rich'. Certainly it seems quaint in these days of tech billionaires and oligarchs to talk of descendents of feudal lords who prize family trees traced back to William the Conqueror.

What you have to understand about the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (official name used with illustrative intent) is that this country never properly rid itself of its aristocracy. We are a monarchy. Our parliament includes a House of Lords. And while these are both vestiges of earlier systems, they are neither of them ceremonial. The Lords and the Crown possess actual power that can affect decisions made by the House of Commons, our democratically-elected governing body. The Lords (who are not elected and include those appointed for life alongside ninety-two hereditary positions [this was a compromise]) can review and send back certain types of bills passed in the Commons, delaying their introduction into law. Meanwhile the Crown technically still holds an absolute veto at the end of the legislative process, which only by convention do they not use (royal assent is required for any bill to become law; apparently the last time it was withheld was 1708, but the threat remains and the Crown continues to interfere in proposals affecting their interests).

As you might expect, there have been murmurings for years about replacing the Lords with elected officials and we all like to pretend the King just exists for show. Regardless, these institutions – hundreds of years old and holdovers from a completely different social and economic order – persist because the aristocracy remains a useful tool of the modern British state. The Royal Family can be said to be its advertising wing, not in the sense of attracting tourism but of going around shoring up foreign relations, to help keep Britain the fifth richest country in the world. These diplomatic efforts are a key reason why they are worth the maintenance costs (and the noxious scandals). However it goes deeper than that.

Kings and queens don't make sense without the idea of hereditary superiority, and even with its overt political power reduced by changing times, the British aristocracy continues to shape our upper classes. We have an entire parallel school system preparing the children of the wealthy for life running the country. Our public schools (fee-paying schools open to all who can afford them; we call the free ones 'state schools') have been educating the sons of the 'best families' for centuries. They were the source of the officers and administrators who maintained the British Empire and they continue to be where a massive proportion of our diplomats, politicians, journalists, civil servants, and military leadership receive their education.

This system, funnelling kids through schools like Eaton and Harrow to Oxford and Cambridge Universities, is a factory for class solidarity. It allows students to network and, just as importantly, instils in them the signifiers of being 'the proper kind of person'. Ways of speaking. Ways of dressing. An awareness of who they should defer to and who they can look down on, so that they can be recognised by other alumni as 'correct'. Trustworthy. Reliable.

Above all, it reinforces the notion they have both a right and a responsibility to lead.

Because that's the heart of the lie nobility tells: 'there is something about us that means we must rule over them.' If Britain no longer entirely subscribes to this quality being inborn, it can at least be taught to those of the right stock, bringing them a little closer to the true aristocracy. They can elevate themselves above the plebs, as diligent servants of the Crown, who remains the untouchable pinnacle of quality. [Translation note: 'the Crown' refers to both the reigning monarch and the state. They are functionally the same thing. That's what being a monarchy means.]

Thus, the Empire was able to send its younger, weirder sons out to plunder far-off lands, and produced many an honourable sort to lead thousands against machine guns in Europe, and, in a post-imperial age, Britain can still present an impeccably polite face to the world, to negotiate better deals. Diminished as it is, the aristocracy's shambling husk continues on, manufacturing not the capitalists per se (although the successors to the original land-lords are hardly above enriching themselves and plenty of our lifetime peers are people who've run successful businesses), but the supporting apparatus for capitalist operations. The grease on the wheels and a permanent roadblock along the road to meaningful social change.

You literally cannot have equality if there's a guy at the top who gets a stupid hat and ungodly amounts of influence just for who his parents were.

The wrong story, at the right time

It isn't hard to imagine about how it happened.

Gjallarhorn is the only significant military force left standing after a quarter of a solar-system-spanning human race has been exterminated. Faced with the task of reconstructing civilisation, it splits the world into four blocs for easier administration, abolishing the old national borders. At those blocs' request, it then applies the same reorganisation to Mars and Jupiter, the better to funnel resources towards restoring the Earth. Throughout, it maintains the position of a neutral arbiter; Gjallarhorn was formed to stop the War; now it must ensure there will never be another.

To this end, the tools that allowed it to triumph – the Alaya-Vijnana augmentation technology and the Gundam frames that meant flesh and blood could out-compete tireless machinery – are buried. Victory is instead attributed to the resilience of pure, unadulterated humanity. The pilots slew the monsters not thanks to their equipment but their innate ability. The greatest among them are heralded as champions and natural leaders.

It is a small step to decreeing that their children will inherit their positions. Innate qualities can be passed down and heirs, raised in the image of their parents. Maybe this is an extension of those traditions from which sprang duellists bearing red flags. Maybe it is merely a result of the new-born legends. What matters is, Gjallarhorn endures, guided by its seven stars.

Over the following centuries, the system embeds. The ethos of human purity takes hold, measured by distance from the homeworld. Unfortunates born to space or on distant, dusty worlds posses utility for digging up half-metal or labouring in orbital factories but have no place inside Earth's atmosphere. They would make the place untidy, now the scars of the War are scrubbed away. Those who seek to upset this situation are dissuaded. Those subjected to augmentation, dismissed as subhuman. The peace is kept.

Sadly, new generations of the ennobled families lack the moral fibre of their forebears, accepting bribes, pushing the boundaries of Gjallarhorn's neutrality. There are rules and those tasked with enforcing the rules and yet still the rot spreads. These younger generations lack the moral fibre of their vaunted forebears. A sad decline.

Or perhaps that is bullshit and they are exactly the same: people come into power, who will justify anything for the sake of never giving it up and ensuring that all things flow towards the centre.

Gjallarhorn is the armed wing of the Earth super-state, operating for the benefit of the whole despite competition between the individual blocs. That is to say, it is the army of a capitalist state writ large, in the usual manner of sci-fi magnifying things across time and space. Broadly, a state's purpose under capitalism is to facilitate the smooth running of private enterprise by maintaining infrastructure, providing a workforce, and destroying anything that gets in the way of expansion. Tradition, upper-class solidarity and ideological frameworks all help hold the arrangement together. It is useful, after all, to train people to believe they're supporting a grand cause when they are in fact facilitating exploitation and theft for the benefit of someone else.

And it is here we must turn our attention back to The Life of Agnika Kaieru. Above, I glibly compared the things McGillis says Agnika stood for to capitalistic propaganda. What I mean is that it reads as the ideology surrounding free-market capitalism, where companies are released from all restraint and allowed to compete irrespective of consequence. This is often said to fuel innovation and create a healthy market that will – somehow – benefit everyone, despite observably driving owners to increase profits at the expense of large numbers of people, including their customers.

In that context, claiming you want to ensure everyone competes 'fairly' is disingenuous, since it entails the removal of both limitations and safety nets. No artificial advantages and reliance solely on personal strengths means those who are old, disabled, or otherwise lacking Agnika's stated virtues will automatically be left behind. This is not hypothetical; I see it around me everyday, as a result of policies predicated on exactly this basis, just as we see it represented in IBO by a wide-scale absence of social support and characters too vulnerable to survive a free-for-all (Atra, Builth, the Turbines, in flashback). But the ideological statement elides such problems.

Given the title of the biography, I assume it dates from after Agnika died. Any impression derived from it must therefore be suspected of being what Gjallarhorn required him to have believed. Historically, both aristocracy and capitalism alike have benefited from this kind of distortion, so it would be no great surprise if the book turned out to be more PR than honest report. While Agnika's principles are incompatible with the hereditary advantages enjoyed by the Seven Stars, there are ways to read them as being aligned with the wider social and economic arrangements. As such, it is entirely plausible the way he is remembered was designed to support those arrangements.

The right story, at the wrong time

The rhetoric of McGillis' attempted coup centres Gjallarhorn's failure to adhere to its original values, citing unwarranted attacks against civilians and inference in Earth politics. The Seven Stars must be replaced with sincere believers to correct a drift away from what Agnika intended. McGillis outright proclaims his 'revolutionaries' have the truth of Gjallarhorn on their side.

Even if this is a calculated stance designed to rile younger officers into being the army he requires, McGillis' internal monologues reveal a commitment to the ideal of the individual seizing their dreams through sheer personal strength. He seeks not only to prove this is possible, but also to inspire those who cower because “they don't know how to use their fangs” into following his example. From what we see, he has taken Agnika's words – as they were relayed to him – as gospel.

Is his interpretation correct? And if it is, was it what Agnika believed, or simply what it was useful for him to say? McGillis is manipulative, spinning tales to make others do what he wants. Was his idol the same, pre-empting biographical distortions by espousing a finely-tuned message that would reassure the masses while he built a system geared toward curtailing the power of all but a few?

Trick question. There's no answer in the text. As I said, Agnika isn't a character; what he really intended is irrelevant and therefore not present. Yet a distinction must be drawn between what is said publicly and what is said behind the scenes. This is a layering IBO captures via Rustal Elion, McGillis' rival for control of Gjallarhorn, who out-manoeuvres and defeats him. Rustal is a pragmatist unencumbered by quasi-mystic belief in Agnika or some 'true purpose' to Gjallarhorn. He does whatever it takes to best McGillis, casually breaking centuries-old weaponry restrictions and even provoking a fresh war to undermine his opponent's plans – all while presenting as a bastion of lawful rule. Privately, he admits to being 'shady', willing to deal with whomsoever furthers his goals (e.g. Nobliss Gordon, who starts violent uprisings to spur sales of his merchandise). It is this capacity for realpolitik that means Rustal comes out on top.

The narrative does gesture at motivations beyond self-interest. When Rustal reforms Gjallarhorn in the wake of the Seven Stars decimation at McGillis' hand, he abolishes the aristocratic council (of which he is also a member) and replaces it with a more democratic form of governance. That he is immediately elected to the role of supreme commander gives us some reason to doubt his sincerity. Offsetting this, he is also shown to be working towards the abolishment of slavery in his society.

Regardless of his exact degree of progressiveness, however, Rustal appears entirely uninterested in changing what Gjallarhorn is for. See, institutions and social structures have specific purposes, which need not be the ones they claim, via statements or appearances. A capitalist business may claim to exist to provide a product or service, but its actual purpose is the generation of profit. The police may claim to be an institution of citizen protection, but their purpose is the enforcement of the law, which can be detrimental to some or all of those selfsame citizens.

Gjallarhorn's purpose is to control the colonial holdings of the Earth and maintain the current division of the world. They administrate the extraction of resources, quash attempts at social change, and crush resistance to exploitative business practices. Moreover, Rustal is certainly well-aware this is what his job entails. It is his fleet that carries out a calculated massacre of the Dort workers' unions when they push for better conditions and he personally orders an orbital strike on defeated child-soldiers as an exercise in image management. His reforms thus smack more than a little of an army or a weapons manufacturer improving its hiring policies: sure, they now employ women and members of minority groups; they still exist to kill people.

For these kinds of entities, purpose is all-important. You can dress them up however you want, so long as their function continues to be carried out. I bet, when I described my country's persisting aristocratic elements, you immediately went, “that sounds like [mechanics of regional upper class and attendant justifications for social division].” Yes. Precisely. We don't have feudal system holdovers at the centre of our society because they're the most efficient or only means of fulfilling those roles. They're simply the ones that make the most sense at this point in our history. A different environment would necessitate a different form, but the function would remain.

[I am glossing over the mutability of function here – the power of the king has reduced greatly via political and economic shifts, so he's no longer performing quite the same role as his ancestors – but hopefully you get what I mean.]

Rustal's reforms are an illustration of purpose superseding form. At the end of the show, the narration informs us trust in Gjallarhorn has been restored, indicating an end to meaningful opposition to what we have seen it do. Similarly, when Rustal states that the organisation's history matters more than its mythology, he is saying it has largely been operating correctly and should continue to do so in the future. The public claims can be altered, the set-dressing reworked. The function remains.

Poor delusions

Like the British state and its equivalents, Gjallarhorn is draped in heroic, mythological imagery. From uniforms to equipment naming conventions, it presents as grand and noble, even possessing heraldry, as if originating in a gathering of brave knights. We, the audience, know that this is a veneer plastered atop the material reality. Scenes of its foundation are comparatively mundane: sober men wearing drab suits, shaping the future with the stroke of a pen. The dress-up played since is pure embellishment.

McGillis, however, takes the imagery seriously.

His plan hinges on 'awakening' Gundam Bael and being 'accepted' as its new pilot, fulfilling an old rule/tradition whereby whoever possesses this particular mobile suit is the undisputed leader of Gjallarhorn. By taking a disgraced Iznario's place among the Seven Stars, augmenting himself with an Alaya-Vijnana system, and capturing the facility containing Bael, McGillis intends to anoint himself the new Agnika. At a stroke, he believes he will gain the loyalty of all Gjallarhorn forces on Earth and thus the military strength necessary to defeat Rustal's Moon-based Arianrhod Fleet.

For reasons I'll detail another time, I don't think his strategy is necessarily ridiculous. But it doesn't work. The other Seven Stars do not automatically bow down to Bael's new pilot, instead adopting a neutral position awaiting the outcome of the impending battle, and there is no mass uprising among the ranks below them. Since Rustal otherwise commands an overwhelming number of troops, this turns the conclusion into a foregone one. The few who do join McGillis' cause are annihilated and he is forced to retreat, eventually dying in a one-man attack on the Arianrhod flagship.

It must be stressed that McGillis isn't stupid. He is a canny political operator who correctly identifies the biggest obstacles to success, and while his analysis of Gjallarhorn's corruption is deployed principally as a rhetorical tool, he's not wrong. The leadership are complicit in a lot of extremely shady activity, including experimentation with Alaya-Vijnana technology, contravening the taboo against augmentation their ancestors propagated. They do act against their publicly-stated values, to the detriment of ordinary people and in the interests of those who benefit from a hideously exploitative system.

His mistake is to treat this as a bug, rather than the feature we might more correctly diagnose it to be. Within The Life of Agnika Kaieru, McGillis believes he has discovered the hidden truth about Gjallarhorn. He imagines by setting Agnika aside, the Seven Stars obfuscated mechanisms to curtail their authority and an ethos more welcoming to people like him. (There is a lot we could discuss about the ways McGillis is immunised against some forms of bigotry by his station, despite his illegitimate status, and how he exploits more disadvantaged soldiers like Ein Dalton and Isurugi Camice for his own ends. It's just, that'd be another two thousand words and I really need to wrap this up.)

Yet if we follow Rustal's advice and heed history, the timeline shown in Season 1 has Gjallarhorn dolling out sections of Mars to the blocs a mere three years after the Calamity War ended. Among the many things we don't know about Agnika is if he survived the War, but whether he did or not, his organisation pretty instantly became a tool of social division and exploitation. The most we may allow is that its original purpose was truly noble. Its actions once the apocalypse had been averted speak for themselves.

This has been long walk, I suppose, for the fairly succinct summary of McGillis as a character who rejects private truth in favour of embracing a public, propagandising lie. I am compelled by the idea even so. Capitalism is far from the only system to have claimed universal virtue while benefitting merely a select few, but it has gone uniquely hard on the idea 'you can make it too'. Given IBO's uncluttered depictions of a world run for profit (with the complicity of ostensibly non-capitalistic institutions), taking a cynical read on Agnika's supposed ideology is trivial. Human triumphalism and Gjallarhorn conceptualised as the arbiter of fair competition dovetail into the show's unjust present in a manner too neat to discount. More than anything else, the choice McGillis makes is a common one in real life.

Sometimes, that's a positive thing, pushing people to insist on making promises come true to the detriment of the swindler proffering them. Others, it is a source of profound disorientation, leading in very dark directions as blame for the dissonance is attributed to anything but the root cause.

[This seems is as good a juncture as any to remark that McGillis is not a proponent of anything we can easily label fascistic. He focuses on individual freedom irrespective of national identity; he is attacking people genuinely perpetuating his world's ills; and he definitely doesn't bother courting a disaffected public by playing to middle-class anxieties. He doesn't need to. His plan is to enact a coup from high up inside a military hierarchy, while promising to lessen the force exerted against society. Though there are links to be traced between his ideology and fascist rhetoric, it isn't the avenue his circumstances compel him to go down.]

[I am 100% certain he would've gone in that direction if they had, but that's a counterfactual, not what the show actually presents.]

How McGillis got to where he did is another of IBO's many examples of adaptations to extremis that look utterly bonkers when seen at a remove. An outsider, thrust into the realm of a vicious upper class, he accurately declared the whole thing a nest of lies and hypocrisy. He could never buy the pretences it sold, to others and to itself. His very existence was damning disproof. Then, at his lowest ebb, he found a story about what it should be and that – that he bought, hook, line and sinker.

Already primed to consider power the be-all and end-all of life, he took Agnika's story as a guide to gaining the upper-hand, going so far as to tell Rustal (then a young adult) that the only thing he now desired was Bael. Though it seems he lapsed into a wait-and-see approach between prepubescence and his mid-twenties, witnessing children from Mars fighting using Gundams makes him believe destiny is taking a hand in events and the time has come to act. He betrays Carta and Gaelio, his two closest friends, both heirs to other Seven Star families, for the sake of clearing his path forwards. These were the first people to treat him like a normal child and he admits with his dying breath that he reciprocated their affection. This was part of why he killed/attempted to kill them: in their company, he started losing the will to pursue his dream, put off guard by finally having something positive in his life. So he chose to violently reject them, unable to give up on what he'd started.

That could easily be McGillis' epitaph. He is characterised by an overwhelming commitment to seeing through his power-grab, even if it means fighting an entire fleet to go personally kill Rustal. This is very far from a sane response and we might say likewise about everything he does prior. From his gleeful divinations at the sight of ancient relics, to his rapturous exultation on activating a machine he knows just required the appropriate brain/computer interface, the personality lurking beneath his habitually polite mask is little short of unhinged.

Which is of a piece with a group of teenage orphans clinging tight to the idea a good life lies just beyond the next battle, having internalised that proving their strength is the only way to survive. McGillis has to think taking on Agnika's mantle will bring him what he wishes, because otherwise his actions have been for nought, nothing can be changed, and the misery he endured is inescapable. It's the same self-reinforcing spiral, turned up to eleven.

(Re)imagining the world

In the final outcome, Iron-Blooded Orphans refutes McGillis' individualism, albeit not without caveat. Destabilising the Seven Stars creates space for incremental change and self-interestedly assisting independence activists lays the groundwork for Mars' eventual freedom from Earth. McGillis does create a “storm in this stagnant world,” with lasting consequences regardless of how swiftly it subsides. Nonetheless, his death is a futile one compared to the other causalities during the finale, who all manage to make their last acts count for something. Where Tekkadan share a mutually-supporting community – they are a 'pack of wolves' – he stands alone and saves nothing of what mattered to him.

As I said above, I don't want to treat IBO as a story solely and absolutely about capitalism. In a similar vein, I'm not trying to position an interpretation of Agnika as a vector for capitalist propaganda as the intended one. There are multiple moving parts here, spinning out from that serious consideration of child-soldiers as more than just a trope in fiction aimed at teenagers. My read on those parts is contextualised by my cultural background (I do now want to look into how Japan's own aristocracy mutated with their forced induction into global capitalism).

At the same time, McGillis indisputably misapprehends how a structure within a capitalist environment works because he wants to believe a version of what says about itself. And The Life of Agnika Kaieru is an artefact of that environment. Even without knowing more about its authorship, publication or veracity, and setting aside what McGillis brings to the table (his desire for power was set years before he'd heard of Agnika), the fact he finds it in Iznario's library speaks volumes. Biographies are not neutral objects. As alluded to above, the act of public remembrance shapes culture and hence society. I think it both reasonable and interesting to look at McGillis' arc with the assumption the book is ultimately commensurate with everything he was reacting against.

What would have happened had McGillis won is another moot question when the narrative hinges specifically on his failure. But a land of competition, overseen by the supreme authority of Gjallarhorn, where the only moral law derives from the dreams of the strong?

Perhaps the most damning thing to be said of McGillis' principles – of Agnika's principles – is that they would produce a world functionally identical to the one we started with.

———

Postscript:

For the sake of absolute clarity, I do not believe whether a story is about capitalism or not has any bearing on its quality. My discussion of the other Gundam shows is intended purely to highlight what I see as a fundamental difference between what they are doing and what IBO is. I don't think it is a problem that G-Witch is a personal/courtly drama, or that Wing is focused on fighting in a more philosophical than material sense, or that the franchise has overall tended towards addressing conflict per se, without any serious interrogation from an economic angle.

Stories can only fail at what they attempt, not at what they don't.

I nevertheless stand by what I said. A piece of fiction concerned merely with some generalised notion of 'human greed' is not about capitalism in any meaningful sense, and I fear that's where most Gundam shows land, one way or another, when they touch on corporate interests.

[Index of other writing]

[swagmmorg]

What is a shared mailbox

WHAT IS A SHARED MAILBOX SOFTWARE

WHAT IS A SHARED MAILBOX PASSWORD

That's okay because you used automation to delegate and assign emails so you know exactly which folder it's in and can easily see the status on the invoice without sending an email to check. You're asked internally for the status on an invoice but you oversee invoices for 50 different regions and three different countries. For Accounting Teams: Invoices flood the shared mailbox.

WHAT IS A SHARED MAILBOX PASSWORD

No more password sharing, double-replies or lost opportunities. With a shared mailbox, the sales reps are able to see when another rep is replying in real-time. For Sales Teams: A new lead emails and because your sales team is incredibly competitive two of your sales reps hit reply and start typing.They'll even get analytics like time to reply and time to close. Your whole team has access to assigned emails, pending emails and closed emails. Assigned emails will route to the 'Assigned' folder which is visible to everyone on the team and the assigned Customer Support rep is alerted. For Customer Support Teams: The Head of Customer Support delegates incoming emails as they come through to and assigns an owner and status for each email ensuring no emails slip through the cracks.Let's review three common use cases of how departments manage shared mailboxes: You might be wondering what a shared mailbox might look like for your team especially if this is the first time you're hearing about it. What is a Shared Mailbox?Ī shared mailbox is an email inbox that allows more than one person to send, receive, and manage emails from the same email address for example, a shared mailbox and sharing it with the relevant team members allows anyone to manage and collaborate on incoming emails from their respective inboxes. Joel Chandler Harris Home - The Joel Chandler Harris Home, commonly known as the Wren s Nest, is a Queen Anne style farmhouse in Atlanta, Georgia built in 1870.Modern teams work collaboratively, cross-functionally, and remotely across time zones and departments.Īnd while email remains the predominant method of communication, especially when considering inbound messages from external stakeholders, it’s not particularly conducive to a collaborative environment.Įmail is ideal for one-on-one communication, but to meet the needs of the modern team, it requires adaptation.įortunately, shared mailboxes are the ideal solution for team collaboration, modern workflows, and transparent communication. Let take it!) Established 1972 … Wikipedia Saisissons la! (University is an opportunity. University of Pau and Pays de l Adour Motto L Université est une chance. University of Pau and Pays de l'Adour - For other uses, see UPPA (disambiguation). Oldsmobile 98 - Oldsmobile Ninety Eight 1969 Oldsmobile 98 Holiday Coupe Manufacturer General Motors Also called Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser 98 Oldsmobile Futuramic 98 … Wikipedia Transforming Health Care: The… … Wikipedia Regional Health Information Organization - Regional Health Information Organizations (RHIOs) are key to the US National Health Information Network (NHIN). Private branch exchange - A private branch exchange (PBX) is a telephone exchange that serves a particular business or office, as opposed to one that a common carrier or telephone company operates for many businesses or for the general public. Netvibes - Type Private Founded Paris, San Francisco Founder Tariq Krim Florent Fremont Headquarters Paris, France … Wikipedia TRS-80 Color Computer - 16k TRS 80 Color Computer 1 Developer Tandy Corporation Manufacturer Motorola Release date 1980 … Wikipedia Contents 1 Clip Organizer 2 Graph 2.1 History 3 Equation Editor … WikipediaĪddress (geography) - An address is a collection of information, presented in a mostly fixed format, used for describing the location of a building, apartment, or other structure or a plot of land, generally using political boundaries and street names as references,… … Wikipediaīusiness telephone system - Early model 464G Western Electric key telephone set A business telephone system is any of a range of a multiline telephone systems typically used in business environments, encompassing systems ranging from small key systems to large scale private … Wikipedia

WHAT IS A SHARED MAILBOX SOFTWARE

Microsoft Office shared tools - are software components that are (or were) included in all Microsoft Office products. Смотреть что такое "shared mail box" в других словарях:Į-mail client - An e mail client, aka Mail User Agent (MUA), aka e mail reader is a frontend computer program used to manage e mail.Sometimes, the term e mail client is also used to refer to any agent acting as a client toward an e mail server, independently of… … Wikipedia

[acourtofsnakes]

Gaa’tayl - Rogue Chapter 4| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: After making your decision, the race is on to try and save Mando’s life. But when things start to go south, a part of you breaks open that you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. How will it change you? And how will it shape whats to come?

Warnings: Injury detail/blood, first aid, little bit of swearing, hint of angst? some very faint fluff, pining thoughts because who wouldn’t, it’s Mando

Trigger warnings: beginnings of a panic attack, vicious thoughts, flashback to attempted suicide, personification of depression/negative thoughts using triggering - please be careful, my inbox is always open if you need to talk♥︎

Word count: 5394

AN: This chapters easter egg hint: Can you find the quote originally said by a purple grape with an affinity for shiny stones?👀

Also, gif isn’t necessarily relevant to the main plot of this chapter but... you’ll see why we have hands as a gif. 

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar   @weirdowithnobeardo 

Rogue Masterlist | Introduction| 1: Solus| 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl 

Mando’a Translation: Gaa'tayl  - Help

Blood.

There was blood everywhere. 

In your hair, over your clothes.

It was coating your neck and your face. You could taste it. Coppery, hot. 

~Screaming was still echoing around the street, heart-wrenching cries of those who had just seen their loved ones forced into the air and torn apart by the explosion. The smell of metal and smoke mixed with the stench of blood and burning flesh. 

Blood. 

You could taste it. 

Your parent’s blood, maybe your own. The taste of it was in your mouth.~

Your heart thundered in your chest as you stared down at the Mandalorian.

You’d been watching him, knowing you needed to decide and then he’d gasped. And just… went still. You felt his blood pulse out under your hands and then he was just quiet. 

You couldn’t hear his ragged breathing anymore. 

Was he…

~You pushed your hands against your mothers neck, desperate to feel for the pulse that you’d felt for the last 12 years of your life.

Nothing. There was nothing there. She was dead. Your mother. Your sweet, strong mother who sung you lullabies and taught you how to dance… was dead.~

He couldn’t be. 

You dared to risk lifting a hand from the jagged hole in his side and pressed your fingertips against his neck. You knew there was a small slither of skin here, you’d seen it yesterday as he leant forward to look at something. You pushed your fingers deeper into the rapidly cooling skin of his neck, waiting. Hoping. 

There was nothing. 

No, no, there had to be. There had to be something. 

You swallowed, calming yourself enough to concentrate. You ducked your head down, like it could help you focus on the skin beneath your fingers. 

There. 

Some kind of choked noise escaped your lips as you felt his pulse, weak and fluttering, but there. Undiluted fear ran through your veins. This was on you now. 

And so, the clock was reset.

You wasted no time, ripping off your cloak and using the length of it wrap around his waist. It was nowhere enough, not enough pressure for a tourniquet or anything even remotely close because of the armour lining his body. However, it would serve to try and soak up some of the blood. 

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling the Mandalorian to sit up. Then rose into a crouch and hauled him up so you were both standing. 

Only to immediately collapse as your knees buckled with the lightning bolts of agony that speared across your ribs. Fuck. Right. Broken ribs. Stars exploded across your vision but you sucked in a deep, painful breath. We’ve dealt with worse. This isn’t about you know. Get up.

You dragged your feet back under you, pulling the Mandalorian up again, holding his weight against your good side. 

Prey helping hunter. 

In, out. A shallow, slow breath that didn’t hurt quite so much, and then you began to walk, half dragging the Mandalorian along with you. You couldn’t manage any more than a slow walk, your own injuries and pull of his amour and dead weight threatening to drag you down again. 

No, no. Not dead. Unconscious. He’s unconscious. Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it. That’s all you need to do. 

You repeated this like a mantra as you walked back through the street, through those puddles of light. 

Get him to the ship, clean it, spray it with bacta-spray, cauterise it, bind it.

You repeated it again and again, even when the skies opened and rain lashed down, loosening your grip on the shiny metal and dragging you both down. 

Get him to the ship. 

There it was, such a welcome sight you might have cried. You fumbled on the arm that you’d slung around your shoulder, pressing buttons on his vambrace until the ramp opened and soft light and warmth called you inside. 

Hunter and prey stumbled up the ramp, and you just got him inside, managed to lay him down in front of a big heavy crate. 

You took a moment, darkness threatening to overcome you and a ringing in your ears. You shook your head sharply, pushing it off and then dropped to your knees, looking over his body. The wound was on his side, in between where the front and back plates of his armour were attached. 

Thank the Maker. You didn’t know what you would have done if it was closer to his armour. You unsheathed your knife, frantically cleaning it on your damp tunic and then quickly cut away a patch of fabric that was over and around the wound, gritting your teeth when you had to coax the torn threads from the hole. 

Which had been acting like a dam. Scarlet blood immediately began to flood from the jagged flesh, soaking the floor below him, your hands. 

You blinked, unable to stop staring for a second. How did so much blood come out of someone?

Memories hounded at your shoulders, threatening to drag you under, toward a market square, a dusty floor. 

Clean it. 

You nodded to yourself, the order in your mind and then scrambled to your feet. A quick search revealed some clean rags and a half full canteen of water. You grabbed the cauteriser and the med-kit on your way back to him, resting it beside you like it was sacred and then you turned to the wound. You wiped your hands on your knees, then dipped the cloth in water, beginning to gently, but quickly dab away the blood. 

Bloody water pooled beneath the Mandalorian, so you hurriedly shoved your cloak under him to soak it up so he wouldn’t be lying in water. 

Spray it. 

Your hands shook as you turned to the little metal box beside you, so much so that it took you 3 attempts to open the latch. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help the exasperated sigh at the rubbish of scraps of bandage that were mere threads, empty wrappers, all littering the top. Really, Mando?

You pawed though the med-kit, turning out empty wrappers and.. nothing else. 

What? 

There was no bacta-spray. No bandages. Hell, there wasn’t even a needle and thread for you to stitch the damn skin together. All you had was a bunch of wadded up fabric from a rag and some water. Why didn’t this man have any medical supplies? He was a Mandalorian for Maker’s sake. He probably had an injury list to rival yours, yet he didn’t even have so much as a needle?

You groaned, lifting a shaking hand to your face for a moment, breathing shallowly through your nose as another wave of agony seared through your ribs and the old injury in your shoulder. 

Your shoulder.

The one that was clean. Bound. 

That’s where the last of the medical supplies had gone, used on your own injury when he brought you away from Sorgan. 

You looked up at his unconscious form, horror in your expression, in your heart. The wound was weeping still, deep, surely missing vital organs because he would have been dead instantly in that alleyway. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t risk getting a medic from the town, one because he didn’t have the time, and two because… well, they’d sell you out. Know who you were, the bounty. 

Your heart began to beat faster, it usual rhythmic thumps turning frantic, uneven. 

It was your fault that there was nothing to save him. 

You couldn’t breathe. 

Just like it was your fault he had been hurt in the first place. 

You couldn’t save him. 

Darkness swirled inside you, recognising what was happening to your body. 

He was going to die… because of you. 

Just like your parents. And everyone else after. 

With no warning, you chest constricted, steel bands wrapping around your lungs, crushing them from the inside out with a pain deeper than your cracked ribs. A roaring surged through your ears and suddenly the ship was spinning in circles. 

The beast, that poisonous beast that slumbered within you lifted its head, scenting your anxiety and fear and it purred with sick delight. Your spiralling was like a siren call and it crawled up, up, up and that seductive velvety voice that hounded you, began to whisper to you inside your head, “Hello, darling. It’s been a while.”

No. No not again. Not another dead body, not another tally against your name. 

“Murderer. Murderer. You killed your parents. You killed your friends. You killed everything even remotely good that’s ever been in your life.”

A sob began to build in your throat, an extra pressure that had you gasping for air, hunching over the floor-

“Look at you, crying. So weak. So pitiful. You deserve every single person that’s ever come after you, deserve every ounce of pain that you’ve been dealt. You call yourself a wolf, but you are a monster.”

It was right. That chasm of fear and darkness that always stayed with you was right. Of course it was. It had been right all those years ago, and the words it was whispering into you like silken poison were true. 

“Exactly, my darling. I am born of that savage beast in you, remember? You created me, you formed me from the truth and knowledge that everyone you touch dies. You have tried to deny this part of yourself for so long, darling, so, so long. But you will never escape it. This is your destiny. To kill those that come near you. ” 

You shook your head, tears flooding down your cheeks now as you wrapped your arms around your middle. The movement jolted your ribs, but it’s lick of fiery pain barely made it through the agony in your chest. I can run from it. I can escape it, you’re wrong, you’re wrong!! That’s not my destiny. I can make up for it, I can be good, I AM good-

A silken laugh and then a soft sigh, like it almost felt sorry for you, “Dread it. Run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. And now it's here. You have let the Mandalorian get hurt for you, and now he will die.”

No… no. No, not him. He can’t. He saved me, he’s good, I can see it. He has a son. I deserve the death sentence, but not him. Please, someone, anyone. Save him, please save him-

“No one is coming to help you, darling. You have finally done it. You have killed a father whilst his son sleeps just down the hallway.” It purred, caressing the inside of your head with claws, “Give in, darling. It’s time to give in. You eluded my call once before, but that won’t happen this time. Your pretty power won’t save you now, not now you pushed it away. Come to me.. escape the pain, finish what you should have gone through with years ago…”

An irresistible darkness reached out a hand, dropping the memory down onto you before you could stop it.

~~A glass vial, a shimmering poison you stole from the market. 

Rain, pounding down around you as you looked up at the moon. 

Water, crashing below the rocky outcrop you stood on.

Burning, a feeling like liquid fire inside you as that sweet, shimmering poison slipped down your throat.

I’m sorry. 

A final look at the moon, so big and beautiful as you turned around, your heels hanging off the end.

Goodbye.

Wind, rushing past your ears.

The icy crush of water as it devoured your body, pulling you into it’s shadowy depths. 

The fire turning molten, slipping through your blood, devouring you as the water has, coaxing you to close your eyes as your body melts from the inside out.

Quiet, a heady quiet as you succumbed to the beast in your chest that was purring with glee.

Nothing.”~~

And then… something echoed within you. Caught the attention of the beast. 

“No. Not again.” It’s snarl was predatory, dangerous. 

The flashback came easier this time, 

~~A hum began to fill the cottony silence in your head, waking you. 

This wasn’t right You weren’t supposed to wake up, you were supposed to be free from the pain and the destruction you caused. 

Easy, it seemed to whisper, relax. It is not your time yet, you still have much to experience. 

Protest flooded your body as you started to feel your limbs again. You didn’t want this, you didn’t want to come back. You didn’t deserve to. 

“Yes, you do.”, it whispered. “It will be tough, there will be more pain and running, I’m afraid, but it will start a fire within you, that will only grow to serve you. You will triumph over this fear, you will become the warrior that you have always been. There will come a time, when things will change. You will do something you wouldn’t normally do, you will save one that deserves to be saved. Rules will be broken, and something new will be forged. Two lives will be forever entwined. Awaken now, and begin again.”~~

Heat began to envelop you, coaxing your stiff limbs to relax, drawing focus in your mind and making you come back to yourself. The rain beating against the outside of the ship, the smell of blood, two pairs of floppy ears at your side as they looked up at you. 

You turned your head, blinking through your tears at the Mandalorian, who’s life was hanging by a single thread. 

Your body shuddered as you leant over his unconscious form. A tight feeling curled in your chest, whispering to you. 

Let me out. I can save him.

You shook your head, you couldn’t. You’d hidden it away for so long, such a long time. You didn’t even know what to do  

Let me out. Let me save him.

You sobbed, a soft noise of defeat, a noise of relief, and you moved your hands to on his side. You whispered out loud, “Save him.” and then… let go

A deep, primal surge took over your body, shaking it, making goosebumps rise to your skin, a feeling lance through your spine. It wasn’t a pain… more a like a release of tension as ever cell in your body thrummed.  

You shuddered from head to toe, feeling the cage that you had spent 20 years building shatter like nothing. Just like that. Not forcing its way out, no clawing to be let loose. 

It was gentle. It overrode the malignant beast of darkness and despair, smothering it in light. 

Powerful, of course, for being shut away for so long but… gentle. It was the energy that roamed through the galaxy, flowed in every single living thing, connected them all together. 

It slipped from the cage you had bound it in, humming in delight as it was allowed to join with you again. 

Free. 

It rolled out of you in waves, rattling the walls, the boxes on the floor. 

It made the lights flicker on and off as it bumped up against the walls and the floor. 

That power healed your ribs as it poured out of you, and then honed itself, as if knowing you didn’t possess the control that was needed. 

It swept down your arms, caressing you like a comforting sweep of a hand, soothing you. You felt it glide over your knuckles, slip along and over the Mandalorian’s body like silk and then…

His wound healed. The ragged flesh knitted back together and the blood seeped back into the Mandalorian’s body where it belonged. It replenished him, saved him, leaving only a red line behind, a scar. 

That power, now having done its job, slipped from your body and left you spent. Shattered. With its final act, it whispered a sweet song of sleep and safety to you. 

With a soft noise, your eyes fluttered shut and you collapsed forward over the Mandalorian’s now relaxed form.

~

A caress of your hair began to coax you from your slumber. 

Long fingers, pushing into your hair at the crown of your head, and trailing through slowly all the way over to the back of your neck. 

You hummed softly, shifting your head because the pillow beneath you was hard and cold. 

The hand stopped and the next drag of fingers through your hair was slower, hesitant in a way. When the fingers brushed over your neck, you melted, a sigh drawing from your lips. 

You didn’t want this to end, especially when those same fingers caressed your face, brushing the strands away and you felt them tug slightly, as if lifting a piece of your hair, memorising the colour and the softness of it. 

It was safe here. You could relax. It was warm and cosy, even if the pillow beneath you was hard. And smelt faintly of metal. Weird. Oh well. You nuzzled against the coolness, humming again. 

Somewhere above you, there was what sounded like a soft chuckle. A caress of your forehead that trailed down the bridge of your nose. It traced over the swoop of your lips and then along your jaw, like they were mapping your features. The touch was so tender, so sweet that it almost bought tears to your eyes. You had been alone for so long, so very long and almost every encounter you had was violent. 

People didn’t touch you to be kind. They touched you to kill you. 

A thudding impact of knuckles instead of a warm arm around your shoulders. 

The sting of a knife edge at your throat instead of soft lips trailing over your skin. 

Ropes and cuffs digging into your wrists instead of familiar fingers linking through your own. 

It wasn’t even a sexual or heated touch that you missed, it was anything. You craved it, the tender familiarity of someone using touch to tell you how much you meant to them, that they cared about you. 

And this… this phantom tracing of your features spoke of a touch that was almost a little unsure. A touch that was mapping something for the first time, drawing attention to the tiny little features you didn’t even know you had, but someone was admiring and drinking in. It was a little hesitant, a little shy but… achingly sweet.

Outside of this haze, something started to call to you, coaxing you to open your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered, your head clearing as you moved and the hand was then gone. 

No, you wanted to whisper. Don’t stop.

~

It might have been hours later, but you became aware of the noises of the Razor Crest. The familiar hum of engines and instruments.  You could distantly hear Grogu’s happy cooing as he played with Duru. Right beneath your head, you could hear steady breathing, muffled slightly by a helmet. 

By a helmet.

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as you stared down at the floor. 

Mando was breathing. Deep, even and steady intakes of air that lifted his chest, filtering through his lungs. 

You made a soft noise, looking down at his side. You picked up the blanket and peered at the ragged tear in his underclothes. 

Nothing. 

The stab wound in his side was gone. Healed. 

You’d done it… You saved him. 

You slumped back, rubbing your hands over your face with a soft sigh of relief. You were shaking all over though and you felt… unhinged in some way. Almost painfully exposed. You had broken something, something inside you that had taken years to build. 

The only way you were able to survive was by shutting away that part of you, that pure, natural power that you could still feel echoing in your bones. 

And the constant pain that you had was gone, no more tightly wound tension now that it had been freed. 

It had to go back in, had to be built into a cage that was stronger, more impenetrable. You didn’t know why it had taken a man who you don’t really know, bleeding out in front of you to rise from the ashes. 

A man who you killed for without second thought. You always through yourself into a fight with no hesitation, but last night, or earlier or whenever it was, you had fought differently.

That wasn’t a frantic dance of survival, where your life was the crescendo and Death was the orchestra. No, that had been precision. Cunning. 

You had shed the claws and snarl, grown fangs and poison. Wolf to Viper. 

The bounty had been your prey. You struck, and you killed. 

For a man you didn’t even really know. 

You swallowed, scratching at the itchiness of your face. Stop. Do not even go there. Don’t. At least not yet. 

Red flakes fell from your face, reminding you of the layer of grime and blood that was dried onto your skin. 

Right. You needed a shower. 

You checked back on Mando, satisfied that he was okay and then you went off for a shower and to potentially drown yourself. 

-

You returned a short while later, carrying a bowl of warm water, a small towel over your arm and a canteen of water tucked into the crook of your elbow. The dark creature in you was silent, oddly silent and you wondered if it would remain that way. 

Best not dwell on it and encourage it to wake back up. 

You picked your way across the floor around storage boxes and tubs of things to where you’d left Mando.

To find him sitting up, grunting a little at the apparent stiffness in his lips. His head snapped up when he heard you, his body relaxing, “You weren’t there when I woke up, I didn’t know if something had happened to you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight chuckle as you reached his side, sitting down next to him against the crate and setting out all the things you’d brought with you. “Easy… I had to have a shower, I couldn’t even recognise my own face with all the blood and dirt on it.” 

He leant back against the crate behind you, watching you, “I know.. I stirred a couple hours ago and nearly had a heart attack. I thought… You were passed out next to me and I couldn’t reach you to see if you were breathing, I was too stiff. I thought..” He seemed to swallow back his next words, his hands tightening into fists on the blanket now on his lap. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest, that raw honesty in his rasp. He’d thought you had died. 

Just like you thought he had. 

A certain atmosphere settled around you, getting tighter and feeling… different. You could feel the heat rolling off of him through your chilled bones, even with the layer of beskar over his body. 

You cleared your throat and held out the canteen. “Here. I bought you some water.”

Mando reached out to take the water from you, gloved fingers brushing yours and you noticed the blood that had soaked into them was dry now. “I never pegged you for the healing type.”

Honey, you have no idea. 

You laughed, shrugging, “You live a life like mine, you end up getting battered more times than you can remember. I’ve had to fix myself up so many times, you were a walk in the park.” You grinned, teasing him but your expression was strained. You could still taste his blood. 

You cleared your throat again and reached beside you for the bowl of water before placing it between you “I found some gloves upstairs when I was looking for a towel… I didn’t know if you’d want to change them.” You bit your lip, eyes flicking over the helmet, that tension still there, lingering. Then you remembered. “Oh, shit. Sorry.” You turned around, facing your back to him to give him privacy. 

There was nothing for a few moments, and then you heard the bowl drag closer to him. There was a soft tug of friction, leather sliding over skin and dropping to the floor. 

Your spine tightened slightly, knowing that his bare skin wasn’t far off. You could never turn around though, you wouldn’t do that to him. It didn’t stop your breathing from turning shallow, and you just prayed he couldn’t hear it. 

Water splashed, and suddenly, an unbidden image burst in your head. Mando’s bare hands, dipping into the warm water, rubbing the washcloth over his palms and knuckles. Beads of water sliding down his fingers and the bare, smooth skin of his wrist. Was his skin tan? Smooth or scarred? You wondered if he had any freckles on his hands. Perhaps not, if they were in gloves all the time. Did he take them off when he was truly aloe? Let the golden light of the sun kiss over his knuckles…

What. 

The fuck. 

Was that.

Your eyes widened as you looked into the corner of the room, heat flushing your neck and chest. Why, in all the stars had that popped into your head? This man had been on death’s door, you had saved him, turned yourself inside out and now you were mooning over the sound of him cleaning his hands? Get a grip, girl.

“Done. You can turn around..” His voice floated over to you, soft and you waited a few moments before you turned back to face him, praying the dimness of the cargo hold was enough to hide your flush. “Thank you.” 

You shook your head, taking the dirty gloves now that the other clean ones were on his hands. “Oh, no, you don’t need to thank me. They were just gloves.” You couldn’t look at him, instead laying the gloves down, resting them both on top of each other so that the fingers and thumbs matched up. 

Mando shook his head, “No… not for the gloves. I mean – yes, for the gloves too but… For saving me. You didn’t need to, but you did. You could have walked right past, but you fought that asshole, you killed him, for me. And then you saved me..” His voice was still rough, and that atmosphere flickered again, encouraging you to raise your eyes to him. 

He titled his head, a hand drifting to his side, “Speaking of which… How?”

You blinked, fought to keep your expression even, “How what?”

Mando’s head remained tilted, “How did you save me? I looked earlier when I woke up but… there was only a scar there. Like it was weeks old, not hours.”

You’d already thought this moment in the refresher, “Oh, that. Uh, I had some bacta-spray left over in my bag. I kept it for emergencies…” You kept your voice casual, pausing now and then as if thinking it over. Expect this part, you didn’t need to feign the quieter tone, “My mother taught me which leaves and flowers could be used for healing, to speed up healing times. My… father worked a rough job and sometimes he would come home with deep cuts and bruises and mumma would always fix them…” You cleared your throat, “I had some left over too.” Your skin felt hot, uncomfortable. You hadn’t intended to share past the point of, “to speed up healing times,” but something about his silence had felt encouraging. 

He was still watching you, and you had no idea if he believed you or not. However, his voice was softer as he simply said, “Thank you. I didn’t deserve it, for what I’ve done. I’m forever.”

“Ooh.. You would have done the same for me, I’m sure...” You laughed a little but it was uneasy, unsure where this was going, that tone in his voice and the intensity of his words. You remained focused on your task of playing with the gloves, that courage that sung through your blood everyday had vanished, leaving you unable to look at him, even if you could feel the visor of the helmet boring into you. 

He leant forward and seconds later, freshly gloved fingers tilted your chin up so you had to look at him, “Exactly. I would have. I did, that’s why he hurt me… so...” He reached behind him, for one of those many pockets and pouches on his body, fumbling for something. 

You frowned, tilting your head, “What are you doing? You’ll pull at your wound-“

Mando pulled something out from his back, holding them out to you and presenting them like a fucking prize. 

Your bounty puck. And the tracking fob. 

What the fuck was he doing?

You jerked back out of his touch, the wolf snarling in you as your eyes flicked up to him, “Seriously? You’re bringing that up? We just went through all of that, and you’re coming back to a fucking bounty puck? I knew I was just a bounty, but you could have waited until you could walk at least.” Your voice was a snarl, but benath that… a hurt. 

He made a soft noise, shaking his head as he once again read what you were thinking, that you had misunderstood. “No, no, I don’t mean that…” He took a breath, and then he gently pulled your hand so it was palm up. And placed the tracking fob and the puck in them. He closed your fingers over them, his voice so soft that the modulator almost didn’t filter it through “Destroy them.”

You jerked in surprise, your breathing catching in shock, anger fizzling out of your body as quick as it had crashed into you, “What? Mando, this… the money it would get you... I can’t.” You tried to push it back to him, to get him to take it. It meant a lot to you, of course it did but he was being ridiculous. “I’m just your bounty.” You hadn’t meant to repeat it, it just slipped out. It wasn’t like it was a lie though. You were. Even though you doubted he had ever had his bounty save his life before. 

You were surprised to hear a soft growl rumble in his throat, “Stop it.” He kept his gloved hand wrapped around yours, heat leeching through the leather and into your skin. “You were, in the beginning. But as soon as I heard that asshole talking like that about you…” He shook his head, swallowing his words yet again though they reminded honest, “You saved my life. That means something to me, especially in my culture. A lot of people would have left me there to die. But you didn’t… And I apologise for everything I’ve done. If you’ll forgive me and let me, I’d like to help you.”

Well. Fuck. That was the last thing you expected. He… wanted to help you? What did that mean? What could he do for you? You bit your lip, toying with the idea, staring down at the devices in your hand. 

You’d been alone for so long. Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe you could… let him. But the way everyone seemed to die around you… you only had to look at tonight as proof enough. 

He shouldn’t do this, it was a mistake.

You looked up, lips parting to form the words that would push him away, make him realise you were saving him from making a mistake.

Only for him to read you like a damn book again. He plucked the bounty puck and tracking fob from your hand, grasping them in his fist and then with a soft grunt, slammed them into the solid floor beneath you both. They instantly cracked, sputtering a little almost like shock and then completely shattered when he slammed his fist down on them again. 

Mando made sure they were destroyed, then looked back at you and you could have sworn you could almost see the cocky eyebrow raise under the bucket on his head. 

You surveyed him, looked down at the remains on the floor. 

The symbol of hunter and prey destroyed. 

You took in a deep breath, lifting your chin and meeting the beskar gaze of the man ahead of you, your threads of your lives somehow more entwined. “Okay. I accept your apology… and your help.”

Would he be the first person that didn’t succumb to your curse? 

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[theoutcastrogue]

Besides the Mafia, what exactly is a "thieves' guild"? Is it something D&D invented?

Fritz Leiber invented it, D&D pilfered it.

Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser #1: “Ill met in Lankhmar”, art by Mike Mignola

Thieves' House

There's a Thieves' Guild in the city of Lankhmar, where Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser (the OG fantasy rogue) operate, and it's first mentioned in the short story Thieves' House (1943). Ankh-Morpork and its own Thieves' Guild (which hilariously operates like a proper historical guild, recognised and regulated by the state) is inspired by Lankhmar, too.

"The house had a bad reputation. People said it was the den in which the thieves of Lankhmar gathered to plot and palaver and settle their private bickerings, the headquarters from which Krovas, the reputed Master Thief, issued his orders—in short, the home of the formidable Thieves' Guild of Lankhmar."

The Guild is powerful, merchants pay tribute to it, and Krovas the guildmaster just hates it when independent thieves attempt to make a buck, too. In the story, said independent thieves are our (anti-)heroes, Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. And that notion of a trade monopoly obviously comes from historical guilds, whose entire point was that no one was allowed to practice a trade unless they were members of the relevant guild.

Rogue Literature

So where did Fritz Leiber get the idea of a Thieves' Guild? I can't know for sure, but his parents were Shakespearean actors and he was into Elizabethan theatre, and do you know the book The Rogues and Vagabonds of Shakespeare's Youth? If Leiber did, he knew rogue literature, and that explains both Thieves' Guilds (not the term, just the content, the term is all his) and Thieves' Cant.

English rogue literature is an early modern (rather than anything medieval) and largely urban genre, which appears around 1600 with pamphlets describing the wicked ways and language of beggars, thieves, and conmen, all out to get the upstanding, respectable, and all too gullible good people of (usually) London. Around 1700, the first cant dictionaries appear, and Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders (1722) is probably the first novel of the genre. Meanwhile, there are a lot of plays that are at least inspired or informed by it, from Shakespeare himself to John Gay's The Beggars' Opera.

1600s

Now, if we take the early Elizabethan pamphlets at face value (and we should NOT, since all our sources were outsiders who aimed to shock – and titillate! – their law-abiding audience), thieves and beggars were organised in associations or fraternities with strict hierarchies. There were ranks and offices, and elaborate initiation rites and oaths to the devil, and codes of conduct and chains of command, and even kings of thieves with prima nocta privileges. And lots and lots of greed.

Most of that is bullshit, it's made up or wildly exaggerated. Some of it makes a lot of sense, though, if you take out the fanciful stuff. A certain level of organisation is necessary for urban crime to work. After all, thieves need fences and beggars need real estate (I mean, they need to call dibs on their spots and somehow ensure that other beggars will respect that). And we should keep in mind that rogues (people without masters) and vagabonds (people without homes) were a world apart from respectable society: not only did they not enjoy whatever protections the state extended to its subjects, but they were considered criminal elements merely for existing without masters and without homes. So their only recourse was each other. A fraternity where all the thieves of London somehow worked together is mere fancy, but there was certainly a lot of mutual aid (if you were lucky) and internal exploitation (if you weren't).

1700s

As we move on to the 1700s, London's criminal underworld booms as much as the city itself, and the pamphlets (and now the newspapers!) have plenty of material to talk about. And for a hot second, there arguably is a thieves' guild, run by a sinister guildmaster, a criminal mastermind who controls the thieves of London with one hand – and with the other, serves law-abiding people and retrieves their stolen property for but a small fee. His name is Jonathan Wild, and like Lankhmar's Krovas, he hates it when independent thieves try to make a living in his city. And also he's an utter bastard.

The infamous Thief-Taker General and his elaborate organisation may have been an inspiration for Fritz Leiber's Thieves' Guild, or perhaps it was second-hand from Professor Moriarty, who was also partly inspired by Jonathan Wild.

Elsewhere

Meanwhile, in 17th century Istanbul, the Thieves' Guild ("the corporation of thieves and footpads who... pay tribute to the two chief officers of the police") and the Beggars' Guild (which had a "sheikh", i.e. a leader, a guildmaster) once joined a very official procession of the guilds on the city streets. Or at least, that's what The Book of Travels says. But all the research I've read about Ottoman guilds considers this passage fanciful. There may have been thieves and beggars in the procession, but they didn't have a legally recognised guild – an esnaf.

Spanish picaresque novels had been around since the mid-16th century, and Cervantes describes something like a thieves' guild in Seville. A French jargon of thieves, along with assorted poetry and literature, is attested from the 15th century. Rogue characters/anti-heroes appear in Arabic literature from the 9th century, and the early emergence of big cities in the Islamic world leads to various associations of thieves and beggars in places like Cairo and Baghdad. A loose co-fraternity of rogues, the Banu Sasan, pops up in every corner of the Arabic world, from al-Andalus to India.

But I don't think Leiber (or Gygax) were too familiar with any of these, except perhaps with a very distorted echo of French thieves & beggars via The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Victor Hugo took a heavily mythologised version of the Court of Miracles, a 17th century thing, and projected it back to 14th century Paris, so it's kinda based on history but also wildly inaccurate.

Conclusion

So as far as the D&D origins of Thieves' Guilds and Cant are concerned, I believe we should stick to Fritz Leiber, English rogue literature, and whatever kernel of historical truth is behind it. And completely ignore the Mafia and any sort of contemporary organised crime, which is another animal altogether.

[popculturebuffet]

Scottrospective: Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness

Welcome back my Scottaholics! We’re moving right along fun and fancy free just a few days later from Book 2 to 3. Which fits: As I mentioned in my review of book 1 I first encountered Scott, Ramona and Wallace in a free comic book story, and VERY intrigued, bought volumes 2 and 3 from the same comic shop after reading it in line.. or maybe I went there again later and bought them. My brain is a foggy sinkhole. Point is I was hooked from then on out, and bought the next three volumes as I came out, and through the internet because by then i’d leanred to use Amazon. Ironic given Ramona’s work for them is not only iconic to the series but plot important in volumes 1 and 2. As is Scott’s package toss in the movie. But the story of my long wait for volume 4 can wait for February. Point is it was these two and Free Scott PIlgrim are the ones I poured over again and agian, obessing over as a teen and the ones that stick in my brain the most.  But even with that last time the exaustive process of covering it exposed a LOT of volume 2′s weakness: While it has a lot of iconic scenes, including Scott accidently convincing a man to skateboard himself to death, the Ramona and Knives fight, the envy call, the flashback, and is still very enjoyable..it also feels the most like a collection of loose events out of the books. Good stuff and character and tone wise better than last time.. but not quite as narratively strong. The series was GETTING there, the art was solidfiying into it’s final form, the characters were in the right place, SCott was more likeable.. but it hadn’t quite hit it’s stride yet.  Three guesses when it did and the first two didn’t count. Infinite Sadness is one of my favorite volumes, along with 4 and 6. And while part of that is nostaliga and a personal connection.. the bulk of it is just this volume being even BETTER on the re-read. I picked up subtle bits that I didn’t notice before that only enritched the experince, the pacing is sublime, the character work is top notch and compelling, the art work is finally crystlalized into what the series is known for, and would only get even better as it goes, and the fights are some of the series best. This is one hell of a story and I warmly invite you to join me as I break it down after the break.

Previously on Scott Pilgrim: Scott defeated Lucas Lee, the second Evil Ex, met Luke Wilson, and prepared to go to his ex girlfriend’s concert despite this being a terrible idea to discuss a gig. It was there he and Ramona found out Envy’s base player Todd, the douchenozzle who she cheated on Scott with, is also the douchenozzle Ramona cheated on Lucas with. 

So we open.. exactly from that moment, with Scott and Ramona starring wide eyed while the band plays in an utterly dazzling sequence that’s been brought up a notch in the color remaster. Also one of a handful of moments that was barely touched from page to screen, with only slight adaptations to make it better on screen, and the addition of Metric’s now iconic “Black Sheep”. And when reading the scene.. I couldn’t resisit turning black sheep on as it matched it perfectly..  so yeah have the Clash at the Demonhead performance from the film

So while that worms it’s way into your head, let’s talk about the character designs for Clash Of the Demonhead, since volume 2 is the last time in the color editions O’Malley really talks about character origins and stuff. I could’ve missed something of course, we’ll see as we go won’t we. I just saved it for here as the Volume 2 review was running a bit long as is and while their shown on covers and on the back cover of the black and white edition, they don’t show up in person and in their full glory till the last panel, hence saving it for here where Envy and Todd are the main antagonists and Lynette is... plot relevant. 

Envy was based on the front woman for the band Metric, Emily Haines, designed much like hanes to be a tough, confrotnational, sexy woman, his words not mine, who’d gone through a lot of change in a few years since according to him, and i’m willing to take his word for it since I don’t know the band outside of the one song he picked for the movie, a lot of the bands songs are about that. And honeslty it makes me want to check them out more, as does how awesome black sheep is I can’t belivie I took this long, and is supremely intresting as I hadn’t realized there was a good reason there wasn’t just an original song written for clash at the demonhead. I mean if you base your character on the frontwoman for a band why NOT use one of their songs.

Speaking of band, Plumtree’s drummer, Lynette Gillis, was the inspiration for Lynette Gycott, though the final version of her is more cold and robotic and less like Gillis than initially envisioned. 

Finally Todd..was based on Scott, and while he evolved out from that a bit especially in powers.. the concept basically stuck as Todd is a stronger, dumber, more agressive and douchey version of Scott whose mistreatment of women is far more deliberate than Scott’s untetional douchebaggery. 

So after some interview segments for some sort of documentary on the band with the crowd, we cut to our heroes after the show, all standing around and being nervous. Stephen’s first words are “Decent show eh, told you they were good”. 

Admitely re-reading this one and answering a reader question, unrealted but it got me to thinking, made me realize Stephen wasn’t AS much of a dick as I thought: I didn’t think about the fact Scott and Envy’s blow up cost him their old band which was close to singing, and that Scott both as revealed in volume 3 and in bits here, was kind of a dick towards the end, intitating the breakup while drunk and belligernt and saying a facepunchingly dickish comment we’ll get to. So he wasn’t BLAMELESS and it’s understandable Stephen dosen’t hate her as much. She was friends with his horrible albatross of a girlfriend and didn’t break his heart. 

However.. he’s still an asshole and deserve jeff blim’s theatrical fuck you up there. He still ignores Scott’s pain, or the fact that most of the breakup WAS Envy’s fault as we’ll see. We’ll get into it in full obviously but for the cliffs notes so I can yell at a fictional grumpy closted canadian man: She slowly drifted away from him, treated him like he had no say in a band he helped found or took his feelings into account in the record deal, and cheated on him with Todd and possibly another guy. And as seen here she used her fame to bribe her ex and friends into showing up just so, as we see, she can torture him and his new girlfriend a bit. Envy is not a good person and Stephen is ignoring that and his friends VERY obvious emtoinal turmoil. Especially dickish since by this point Scott has clearly swallowed his pride and agreed to a show with someone who really DEEPLY hurt him for Stephen and Kim’s sake.. and he’s not even remotely greatful for it clearly. The only reason  he’s not the biggest asshole left in the building is because Todd, Envy and Julie, queen of bitches, is in there. 

So after a save point gag that goes nowhere, Envy shows up to take the group back stage... awkward, uncomfortable and very intentional silence insues to makes Scott even more sweaty and nervous and Ramona visably and understandably annoyed. Knives tries to talk to her hero but gets ignored because Envy’s a bitch.. and so’s Julie who not only joins in the shunning of a fucking teenager who clearly loves this band, but also is clearly trying to conversationally surgically attach her lips to Envy’s ass. Her toadying is obnxoious as you’d expect and as transparent as you’d expect, trying to drudge up old nostalgia while Envy’s clearly barely intrested, and the only thing that makes it more tolerable than normal Julie is Envy clearly barely tolerates this and likely is only going with it because she could be a useful minon in the future. 

Thankfully this is broken up. Unthakfully it’s by knives shouting her most iconic line: 

Given Envy is shown to not be the best person.. her response is to have her cyborg goon belt knives in the face

Which leads to an even better line seconds later

Envy then to just .. complete the circle of being a bitch has NEil take knives out then mocks her when Julie explains why knives and neil were even here. And it’s VERY telling that even Julie, who was must minutes from humping envy’s leg and begging to go with her when she leaves, is visably put off by Envy’s attitude. So while Ramona is understandably fucking done with this, as even she has some shred of sympathy for the teenager who tried to stab her a day ago, Scott has to take a minute to have a flashback. We see two brief bits of Scott with Envy, at the start of their college band Kid Chamelon where they were all happy.. and shortly after the breakup where Scott is miserable, in the middle of the street, sadly saying their name while saying “I’m so alone”.. explaning that desert bit from volume 1.. and making it ten times more painful. Nicely done Brian. 

So with Knives gone we get our usual character age intros and descriptoins, my favioritte being Stephen “wants a damn buritto dammit” which I can relate to and thankfully got it monday. He also does show a bit more of his noble self as, things have escalated to the point even he can see Envy has some sort of evil scheme planned and he walked right into it so he asks what her ulterior motive is. Julie pipes up with “She dosen’t NEED ulterior motives she was written up with in spin!”

So Envy grills Ramona a bit clearly trying to make her squirm..though at least when Julie TRIES to jump in she shoots her down, like some asshole pulling a yappy dog on it’s leash hard. Eventually Scott flips out and .. well I don’t want to overpanel this review but this is just.. quotes cannot do this justice. 

The result.. is the reveal Todd is psychic due to being a vegan and he throwing scott through a wall with telkenisis, kyle!

It’s explained he has these powers because he’s a vegan and even was top of his class at the vegan academy. Citation... needed. Not because of his power but because Todd may be one of the stupidest beings that’s ever lived. And I once had a friend whose other friend told me, since they’d be going to diffrent high schools and he was trying to pass off his mummies curse of keeping him from destroying himself with his own stupidity, tried to run into a wall to loose weight. No I don’t get how this would’ve worked but having known the guy I guarnatee he was arrogant and dumb enough at the time to try it. Nowadays I assume he’s much better... I assume. You.. you’d have to be to have survived another decade. 

Todd is also THAT kind of smug dickhead. Thankfully I haven’t met one in real life or online, as the two vegetarians I have known, one of my best friends micheal and my uncle drew, the former of whom now also eats fish and the latter of whom gave it up once he moved to places he could get meat that was raced humanely easier, but who I still respect for having that amount of self control. But Todd is a clear parody of the type of vegan and vegetarian who think their better than everyone.. by thinking he’s even BETTER than regular vegans because not every vegan can take the strain of psychic powers, with Kim naturally sniping at him.. then flipping him off when he says “don’t get snippy babe” and is very lucky he has psychic powers as otherwise he’d suddenly be wondering where his dick is and why kim’s holding a broken bottle. 

Brian also pokes fun at the old 90 percent of your brain trope. You know the old one that claims you only use 10 percent.. 

But it’s only because your only ACTIVELY using it and the rest is simply other functions. But hey we got Deathstroke out of that claim so good enough. Todd claims it’s because the other 90 percent is curds and whey. This might be the greatest use of this outdated trope in human history. No.. no.. it is. It exactly is. 

Envy brags that’s why he can’t beat him having clearly traded disappearing up her own ass  for disappearing up todd’s, Julie was also crammed up there, it was getting crowded. Envy claims to have been with todd since age 11.. which.. is more.. delusion than anything and she brushes off Ramona rightfully pointing out that’d mean he cheated on her with Ramona as Rammy trying to distract her and trying to smack talk SCott more who has another flashback. 

SOME YEARS AGO.. I DUNNO 5? 5 YEARS AGO?

We see Scott’s first meeting with Envy, who was rooming with Julie. Julie, it might shock you.. has not changed at all in 5 or so years. She’s seen bitching at her roomate Natalie V. Adams, the future Envy, for not wanting to get drunk and high and for hanging out in her room with all her anime posters and stuff. As you can tell, she’s a vastly diffrent person at this point, a nerdy interverted otaku and as you can probably guess now the flashbacks have started at the top, we’ll be seeing how she became the sexpot rockstar she is now and how that drove a wedge betwene her and Scott. Julie SHOCKINGLY does not take this well and as Stephen to kil lher if she ever becomes friends with her. I mean I would but If I could travel into fictional works I certainly woudln’t be wasting my time murdering Julie. I’d be asking kim out and trying to get into some cool video game ablities myself. I ain’t got time for that bitch. 

Next cut Julie is ... even worse as she’s calling Scott some “jerky jerky ladykiller”, pointing out he’s hooked up with recurring background characters Sandra and Monique. Now GRANTED, Scott could’ve hurt them and Julie could be right for once..  we’ve seen he has a history of being an insenstive douche by pure accident. But.. from the sounds of it given his encounters with Sandra and Monique were both in seperate ladies rooms, as in casual hookups I assume are common in universities. As long as he used a condom and dind’t lie about being in it longterm, who the hell does it hurt. Same if he and Natlie ended up being that. He’s not a “ladykiller” if he got busy on a washroom sink. He just had casual sex in an awful location and given Scott is both horny and stupid freqently, I could buy he either inittated it clumsily and sandra and or monqiue went for it, or one of them thought he was cute and wanted a quick one with him and it just never went anywhere either due to lack of intrest or Scott being kind of a moron. I don’t buy he INTENTIONALLY hurt anyone, he MIGHT of hurt Sandra she seems kind of ditzy and might’ve not realized it wans’t serious.. but it just entirely sounds like a casual, consesual one time hookup with two seperate women. And as long as he wore a condom and repsected their needs what the fuck is it Julie’s buisness. BEcause their here freinds? I mean they told her but they weren’t expecting her to play dick sheirff with scott probably. And Natlie is not her buisness: their not really friends.. she’s just trying to ruin Scott’s day.  I honestly get the sense she only hates Scott because she can’t get rid of him, Stephen won’t dump him as a friend and he fucked her friends once. Which makes me hate her MORE. Natlie/Envy however also calls bullshit and thinks Scott’s much too awkward to be a ladykiller. Accurate. I mean he’s good with women and gets dates easily, he’s just not inteitonally leaving them high and dry. He’s just not great with empathy. 

Scott snaps back to the present and gets pissed.. and we get the real reason for the outburst as he shouts “You you ass! She USED to be NICE!”. It’s very clear that Scott blames Todd for Envy’s change into an cold and cruel person. But .. that’s not on him entirely. I do think Envy’s cattier, more cruel “play with prey like a cat with a mouse” personality at this point is due to Todd feeding into her worse impulses.... but the flashbacks make clear even before she saw him again she was slowly changing as a person for better, gaining a drive and passion for music.. and for worse, shutting scott out cheating on him and generally not carring about anything but her career, especially Scott. As much as he wants to belivie it she didn’t MAGICALLY change into a bitch overnight and beating todd won’t fix that. She became what she is as a choice. Todd just made what she became worse. 

After the predictable result of Scott getting flung into the air and falling back down, he has another flashback and we see the next phase of their relationship: Scott, Envy and Stephen playing in a band for Stacey and Wallace (!), whose hair is certainly a... choice. And the two falling in love and julie grilling scott on if he and nat are a couple because why stop making me wish for a bus to hit you NOW Jules?

So we then get ANOTHER iconic line and another scene that was perfectly translated into the film

Comic gold no matter the medium.. Brandon Routh just nailed it and I watched the scene again before writing this just out of curoisty. Flawless stuff. Check it out

I will say however that while Movie!Envy’s response of just quickly covering is pretty funny.. I prefer the comic’s envy’s utterly baffled and pissed off “What are you talking about Todd?”. Even she can’t fathom what the fuck just happened. But since it’s late and Todd’s brain is pretty fried, Envy calls for everyone to get some sleep and they’ll regroup tommorow at 1pm at Honest Ed’s. Honest Ed’s WAS a famous discount Store in Canada that sadly closed in 2016, making what ‘s about to happen to it here sad in hindsight. It was known for big sales, big spectacle and i’ts larger than life owner who sadly passed a few years after this volume. But god bless him for giving this series one of it’s best settings. More on that when we get there for now FLASHBACK

Back in College, we see Nat’s change into envy as she sells all her stuff for some bitching new boots and cd’s and during sex with Scott asks him to start calling her Envy. Their still somewhat happy, as the next flashback has Scott remembering their 8 month anniversary and her playfully mocking him as the girl.. before we get a much starker one of him telling her he loved her and her not responding.. and looking at him.. more.. bored than anything. 

Back in the present our heroes try to wait out the rain under a bank thing, can relate to the times i’ve visted the city and came out to rain, and when that fails Kim says she’s off and will see them at practice and tells Stephen to blow her when he asks her if she’s going to Honest Ed’s, then seems genuinly confused if he pissed her off before heading home. Swing and a miss stevie, swing and a miss. 

Scott is hungry and sorta drags Ramona, whose not in the mood for anything, over to Pizza Pete’s a nearbye eatery. It’s there they happen to run into Other Scott... Other Scott is another guy named Scott. He dosen’t do much in the books. But the name Other Scott is objectively funny and he is objectively nice so he’s fine in my book and I applaud the movie for using him as Wallace’s love intrest. Though I wouldn’t be REMOTELY suprised if they were fucking in the books too. And of course with him is Wallace himself, who really is just.. entering this volume in the most Wallace way possible. 

A little drunk, eating some cheap but good food, with a million dollar style and in just the exact right place at the exact right time. If that’s not Wallace Wells, I don’t know what is. Wallace and Other Scott were clubbin, not a huge suprise given Wallace has his own deep and complicated social life we never see and Wallace is naturally a little bit absolutley livid when he finds out Scott went to see Envy’s show anyway despite you know, putting him in a misery coma. Who do you think has to clean you and feed you when your like that Scott? Elves? Well I mean .. Wallace MIGHT be an elf.. but he stilld soen’t want to do either of those things.  He breifly gets sidetracked by the fact that Scott is wearing his shirt.. maybe. I mean he wore it the other day but given their living situation it’s honestly hard to tell. Ramona reminds him of his priorites

That’s part of the fun of rereading these again so soon after rereading them in december: I’m noticing tons of little moments like this I didn’t really before. The two explain things, including Ramona pointing out Scott’s extra stupid around Envy. I mean it’s a bit mean to point out given this is clearly a lot for him. 

Wallace brushes it off and promises to help him train like a true pal before being prompted to talk about this new boy he picked up Mobile.. who we wont’ see in person for a while but Wallace is clearly head over heels for and begs Scott to let him have the apartment.. or more accuratley Ramona, whose clearly not in the best of moods with Scott, to take him. His sales pitch is immaculate

So she agrees and a friendship is forged based on mutual hatred and being someone’s dipping sauce bitch. I’ve forged longer lasting friendships on far less. Also Wallace forgot his keys but wisely banked on his Gladstone Gander esque luck to help him out.. seriously i’m convinced he has a lower yield version of that. Or God wants to bang him but can’t because his penis is so powerful it CAN SPLIT A MOUNTAIN IN TWAINNNNN. You make the call. 

So they sleep it off, and Scott heads home early next morning.. and forgot he gave wallace his keys. Thankfully wallace finds him, and even got him donuts for when he came back, what a guy, makes you cry and I did. He also shows off a new trick about using your chi to dust rain off you. Turns out Mobile is psyhich which.. dosen’t come into play but for vallad reasons: Scott assumes Mobile can just.. give him psyhic powers and training but a) he and Wallace JUST met and while they’ll remain together for the rest of the series, it’s a big ask to have him help train his best friend to fight a man as dumb and chisled as a mountain, and B) “It dosen’t work that way” meaning scott’s probably not psi adept and even if he can be taught, there’s not NEARLY enough time for him to get good enough at shielding himself from Telkenisis in time given Todd’s already fighting him today and has two other oppprotunites afterwords to beat his ass to death. There’s just not enough time. So scott collapses with a donut in his mouth.. are .. are we sure this isn’t just a more attractive more sucessful canadian alternate me? 

We flashback to when Wallace met Envy and since i’ts post-becoming envy, it dosen’t go well and he hates her immidetly, and expects Scott to break up with her asap.. which while  bitchy.. actually woudl’ve been a good move in the long run. And “Bitchily phrased but a good move in the long run” has apparently always been Wallace’s go-to move. 

In the present Wallace helps Scott , who thinks everything sucks, realize it does not, with the help of fresh bacon and perspective, helping him avoid thinking Envy is “back” when she’s just vistiing and somewhat forces him to admit it’s not happening again nor should it. And implicity your both with other people, you’ve moved on, stay moved on. ANOTHER Flashback, this time with Envy asking Scott how he and Wallace met after dinner with Scott’s parents. It’s the story we’ve been hinting at since.. uh last volume. 

And indeed it is somewhat gay! Behold! The origin of a friendship to piece the heavens or .. something like that. I’m tired. 

It’s a quick breezy story that honestly both explains a lot and is what you’d expect; Wallace taking an intrest, Wallace presumibly realising Scott is straight off screen but deciding fuck it I like this guy let’s be pals instead, and jjust sorta showing up at his house. But since it’s Wallace and he and Scott both love gaming.. it just stuck. And it’s easy to see why. Scott’s a bit of an introvert and Wallace is a ton of an extrovert. Wallce is nice, naturally charming and endlessly cool, and as you can see it took him probably just an afternoon to go from freaking scott out for showing up randomly, to Scott talking the guy up and clearly being the bosom buddies they are now. The two just ballance each other out well. Wallace need’s scott’s weirdness and general heart, and Scott needs Wallace to keep him from running into the brick walls of life via his own stupidity and conflict avoidance. It’s what they do, they make it a two player game. 

So later that day, and some off screen training later, presumibly to the song Two Player Game despite the fact it didn’t exist yet, our heroes (Scott, Ramona and Wallace), Villians (Envy and Todd) and other not so much evil as just cretionus assholes (Stephen and Julie) arrive. It’s also clear that Envy just made up the challenge as she went and I fucking love it, just saying they’ll run to the back, try and kill each other and no psychic powers, with Scott’s own handicap being “He isn’t a surivivor” which earns a rightful you unebleiviable bitch from wallace and a just ast rightful “fair enough” from Scott. 

Stephen wonders what the deal is and Julie’s answer is... I don’t.. I can’t unpack this. 

Meanwhile Wallace says “I hate her so much” Which I THINK was meant for Envy, but as a teen I interpited as being for Julie. Then again it being BOTH is entirely possible given no one can stand Julie for more than five mintues other than Stephen. And that’s because he’s still in the closet and hasn’t come out as bi or gay and thus sees her as a safe option or he really sucks with his taste in partners. Or a little from collumn a , a little from collumn b. So yeah Scott wants a Strategy and Wallace has.. nothing other than “Well he can’t use his powers so.. use that. I guess.. I dunno. I’m hungover” though Ramona warns he can’t go long without using them without freaking out. So gooood? I’m starting to think Kim is the most useful member in his crew for this fight.. and she’s the one who decided to nope out of it because she didn’t want to watch his ex pick him apart mentally and her muscly new boyfriend pick him apart with MIND BULLETS. Wallace isn’t really helping this go round, though he’s still a treasure, Ramona is trying but dosen’t have much, and Stephen thought bringing Julie was in any way shape or form a good idea. Which really sums up their entire relationship so it’s not surprising, it just makes me question why the two are friends at all. 

No really,  out of Scott’s three close friends.. this friendship feels the most like two guys who just used to hang out but have no real reason too other than convience. Wallace would go to bat for scott.. with an actual bat.. to Envy’s skull. He just dosen’t want to go to jail.. again. Kim pines for him, pun intended, and also does care, she just dosen’t show it because scott’s kinda a moron parade and an insenstivity brunch rolled into one. So she sticks around even though it hurts to. Stephen.. lost his big shot in part due to Scott (Though Envy’s pushness and lack of consideration for his feelings didn’t help), his shrew of a girlfriend hates him and he’s not that good at bass... and I just got it. While Tornoto’s a big city , he’s probably not sure if Kim would be doing this without Scott. He’s.. entirely still his friend because he needs a bass player and kim’s a damn fine drummer whose hard to replace. I just got it.. it makes him a self serving douchecanoe for only being someone's friend because he needs a bass player even though he doesn’t like him, but I at least GET IT now. 

 So the rush into Honest Ed’s begins and.. my god this whole sequence is sublimely redelcous. It feels like what would ACTUALLY happen if two guys fought for the reasons scott and todd are fighting: just two idiots dinking around in a discount store. Scott dosen’t even last a few seconds before shouting in response to Todd’s taunts “We are all dead”, tripping while looking for eyeware and well..

Meanwhile Todd starts to break down while shouting FATHEERRRRRRR like all good psychics. As for how long this beautiful nonsense has been going on....

Oh and if you thought it hadn’t gotten redicously hilarious enough... wait till you see what’s next. 

No words.. should’ve.. sent a poet.. got a tubby asshole who reviews comics, disney shows and disney comics instead.... 

So we then get a montage in todd’s head with his SHOCKINGLY OLD dad telling him he dosen’t have the willpower to be a vegan.. Lynette telling him she’s his for the taking and Envy will never know as she opens her shirt, and 

Gideon.. showing he not only consults the league but confriming what the audience and scott realized: He’s behind these assholes.. but it also shows how much. He’s actively coaching them.. and granted we KNEW the exes were in contact with one another given Lucas was having an understandable sigh about Matthew.. but this shows Gideon isn’t just some player and this isn’t some automated service. He brought them all together. The how ends up being hilarious, and we’ll get to that but while it was obvious he was the final boss this is a nice and terrifying bit of clarification. As for what happened next.. well Todd freaks out with his powers from not using them

Really sad in hindsight.. but still really funny despite the horrifying concidence. So yeah our hero declares victory but dind’t really when and things just kinda end. This segment went basically nowhere and acomplished nothing. .but was still really fun, with great lines and is one of the most memorable and awesome scenes in the series.  It also shows the series growth between volumes: Last volume had a lot of cool moments.. but no real plot structure, just a bunch of things that needed to happen to get here. With Volume 3.. things are VERY tightly plotted, and even a fun but kinda pointless diversion like this... still fits in perfectly, giving us a second Scott and Todd fight to build him up, showing off just HOW powerful Todd is, and fleshing out the tofu headed douche a bit. As we’ve seen this volume still has it’s little slice of life moments the series does well. their just well put into a very compelling and fast paced plot, one we’re fully invested in as we see Scott’s torment and Ramona’s mounting anger at envy’s bullshit. It helps that Envy and Todd are the second best big bads of a volume behind gideon himslef in the fimale, with Roxy close at their heels if you were curious. Envy just oozes ego and superiority and is fun to watch every time, while we see moments once in a while that show she’s still human underneath even if she acts like a goddes.. and is admitely one of my types but that’s enough of that. She provides a nice contrast to ramona, also being standofish and mysterious but wheras ramona is clearly mysterious out of shame for a past she’s not proud of Envy is out of a past.. she has no reason to flee from and was never that bad.The only part Envy kept was Todd which was an objectively bad decision. 

Todd meanwhile like all the exes as I re-realized.. is a mirror to scott. Each one has a piece of his worse traits amplified and expanded. So far Patel has been scott’s dorkyness, expanded from 

To being a giant showy hipster douche desperate to seem cool and important. Lucas is scott’s afabliity and laziness taken to just outright avoiding a fight.. not nearly as bad as the others given he still has one of Scott’s best qualities with no drawbacks.  But Todd.. is probably the ex that mirrors scott the second most. Besides both being base players with shaggy hair, both are delightfully stupid, both have a lot of charisma besides that and both are extremley good in a fight.  But noticably.. Todd zigs a lot where Scott zags and the simlarites sort of stop. While both are objectively attractive, Todd is more conventinually chisled while Scott is more adorable, expertly reflected in the movie by having former Superman Brandon Routh opposite former George Micheal, Micheal Cera.  Todd’s ablities are mental while Scott’s are entirely in martial arts and later swordplay. Todd has a rough relationship with his dad who never supported him and constnatly doubted him while Scott’s parents fully support him and love him uncdoitoinaly and despite his protests and annoyance with them.. it’s clear he still cares about them and loves them.  And most damingly.. Scott treats people like garbage sometimes.. but it’s because he’s oblivoius. He’s a finaical burden on Wallace, cheated on Knives, gave Kim no closure, blew up Stephen’s chances at the big time, and in general can be kind of a dick.. but NONE of that is intetnional. It dosen’t make it okay, the books make that clear.. but it’s why we can still root for him: It’s something that can be fixed. Scott hurts people a lot but he lacks gneuinely malicious intent. He leaves a lot of pain in his wake.. but it’s because he’s socially inept, and again and I say this as someone with atusitim myself, defintely on the spectrum , so he dosen’t GET he’s hurting people unless they tell him. Something that will probably not shock you but I relate to and has happened to me in the past, hence while i’ll clal him a douche or stupid, because he’s both, I do sympathize with the guy as the whilrwilnd of descrution is just him being so intent on being seen as a good person and moving past things he can’t see the wreckage in ihs wake, and the series is about him growing past that mindset. 

Todd.. is just an entitled dick who KNOWS he’s probably going to hurt people but does the things anyway because he thinks as a rock star he can do whatever he wants. As a Vegan he’s superior so he’s allwoed to do WHATEVER he wants. He’s so obessed with making his dad not see him as a failure he’s developed an Ego that can only be visualized properly using well.. Ego

That’s what his ego has become. He’s so up his own ass his head is coming out of his mouth somehow. He’s so in love with himself he’s probably googled “How to make a sexy clone of yourself”. He’s scott’s oblivoiusness and selfishness, but with genuine intent. He’s scott if he KNEW what he was doing was wrong.. and said fuck it anyway i’m a rockstar baby. Todd, is EASILY what scott could’ve been at envy’s side had they not broken up.. successful.. but an utter bastard who only cares about themselves.  Anyways we cut to practice that night were Stephen is spiraling and Kim declines going to the show.. not for the obvious reasons of wanting to avoid another round of “watch Envy tourture scott before Todd beats his skull in with his psychic powers”, but because she has a date. Lucky bastard. The guys are naturally as tactful as you’d expect about this and suggest she’s doing a collage or puzzles before she shuts htem down and they awkardly recover and I laugh my ass off. 

So Scott and Ramona head out, trading some talk and what have you and having some Sushi, not going there often because they can’t afford it.. but it’s cool Scott swipied Wallace’s card. When pressed on his douchebaggery Scott assures her. 

We’ll get more into this next time, but needless to say Scott’s mooching is finally becoming a plot point next time. Speaking of next time on the way to the show Ramona realizes “Wait why the hell are we doing this” and convinces Scott not to go as they can relax, have a night off, cuddle and stuff, and then Scott can fight Todd tommorow at the big show. Why DO they need to sit in with two assholes who are only inviting them to fuck with their heads some more. Well okay one asshole while Todd is okay with all this he probably just mubled some “sure whatevers” while trying to solve a rubix cube while Envy outlined her plans to him before rearanging the stickers so he could win.. I Mean with his mind so it’s sitll a little impressive but still. 

So they TRY making out, complete with being in their undies.. but it just dosen’t work as both of them keep picturing Envy’s face and that’s not good for either of them.

AND it was at this point fucking tumblr.. ate an hour’s worth of work I just did. Probably not something you need to know or care about but something that pisses me off greatly as I was approaching the end of the review and now have to either retype or entirely rethink what I JUST spent a while working hard on. 

And this time I mean it. The only reason i’m not giving up and shelving this review for a bit.. is ithat i’m a stubborn bastard who refuses to give up that easily and who needed to vent about this to somewhere. 

So Ramona finally comes clean about Todd.. and in a nice moment admits to cheating on Lucas with him “It wasn’t very nice but I wasn’t a nice person”. It’s a small thing, something I didn’t notice before.. but it’s actually a big step given how guarded Ramona is to admit to doing something this bad. Last volume, just a few days ago time wise, she lied entirely about this and probably has no idea Scott knows already. But she’s being honest, telling him the truth so he’ll be prepared for what’s coming and know the full story.  The full story is they were both little shits who raised hell together till Todd disappeared for a while. He shows up as you’d expect, dickishily interupting class before explaning Dairy Scientests kidnapped and experimented on him. He also says this

So he proves his love. in the most badass and horrifying way possible: BY MAKING ONE OF THE TWO BIG NOTICABLE CRATERS ON THE GODDAMN MOON. 

One of the series best jokes. Ramona also takes a hard pass to learning about envy and asks about Kim... not for any reason.. just thinks sh’es nice. It’s not like she wants to make out with her face.. a lot. Just.. girl things. SHUT UP. She’s also unsatisfied with Scott’s piss take version of his relationship with her.  Closing out the chapter, Knives.. has somehow climbed a huge pile of billboardsi n the middle of tornoto.. which would be awesome.. if it weren’t such a beautifully sad image. 

Whelp my heart just exploded with pain at this poor girl whose lost the love of her live, which is a goood thing mind you but dosen’t mean it dosen’t hurt less, her faviorte band and her highlights all in the span of a month.  Moving on as we approach the final act, we get a brief scene as Todd orders some Gelato, which is itallian icec ream, very not vegan and Envy does not relaize this. Todd however rants about being a rock star, being so above people and as for the rules

We also get this lovely bit

And then they make out and i’ts treated as a big shocker despite.. us.. finding that out several dozen pages ago. We know already. 

Back at Scott and Wallace’s place, Ramona shows up with cool new blue hairdoo, which I agree with Wallace is awesome and admits she changes her hair up every couple of weeks.. someething that in the color version we do see better. We also get a gag that no longer makes sense as he asks if that’s her natural haircolor and she says yay and the caption admits this was funnier in black and white. Eh one or two jokes for some really pretty colors is a fair enough trade. 

Scott however once again bitches about his hair, despite Ramona pointing out to him and Wallace that.. there’s like dozens of haircut places within walking distance. I remain unsuprised thier that oblivous. But to shut her boyfriend up she agrees to cut his hair and while they do asks what Envy’s actual name is.. scott’s response .. is pretty heartbreaking “Natalie. She stopped liking it. Then she stopped liking me.  So Scott shows up with his NEW HAIR CUT.. aka his old one just trimmed up a bit, but the one you see in modern merch and the game. A bit shaggy but not as long. Scott reassures Stephen whose spiraling with panic that it won’t be the same as last time and they’ll have fun. Kim, understandably and having not been told anything, wonders what “last time was”. After everyone chimes in Kid chamelon i’ts time for another FLASHBACK.. as you were probably expecting by now.. but this time I added some proper effects to spice it up. 

So we find out more of whta drove a wedge between the two: Envy slowly but surely took a tryanical death grip on the band, adding some guy named Joel on the drums, possibly the same guy from Crash and the Boys, and bumping Scott to bass, without asking him or Stephen about this and just sorta.. demanding it. While her intetnions are understandable, she just wants the band’s best sound.. her actions are still head tiltingly obnoxious, and clearly show she had not studied rock history yet as usually taking absolute control of the band and ignoring your band mates is the easiet way to destroy a band. Sometimes it’s just envy, pun unintneded but welcome, but yeah.. it’s no wonder they didn’t last. Scott is also shown to be more and more uncomfortable with the band going from a fun thing he did with his friend and girlfriend.. to something that could make him famous.. something he’s very transparently not ready for and dosen’t want.  And it makes sense: he was just a dumb college kid in love.. he didn’t start the band for fame or glory.. he just wanted to have fun. Same with his current band. And while in the PRESENT his lack of ambition can be obnoxious and will be a problem in the next volume, here.. he’s still in college and sudeenly got thrust into a career he dosen’t want with a person who no longer loves or respects him. It’s understandable that he’s a nervous , miserable wreck. 

So in the present, Stephen is throwing up and asking for julie and Scott.. is a dick and ignores him. Were it anyone else and any other relationship currrently int he books I would actually give a shit. So he wonders around a bit, running into some teens who are intrested in him, word travels fast apparently, Julie, who for once displays a human emotion of concern for Stephen or the closest she can, and thankfully Wallace, Stacey and Micheal,who now has a spooky skeleton ring from the future and badly needs his own spinoff. Stacey TRIES to pump her brother up.. but it’s clear he’s in no good mental place for that and trudges off while Wallace, man of the year, worries about him.  One GOOD THING about the astronomical setback that happened is in the orignal draft of this.. I forgot to talk about Stacey. Despite promising to. So here it goes: After this Stacey.. just sorta vanishes from the series. She’s still around and while not super promient gets a decent amount of screentime in the finale, she makes cameos before then. But from this book on she’s no longer a main character like she was in the first two books. There she had several scenes, lots of focus, and her own mini arc in the first one about Wallace stealing her boyfriends. There’s. an actual reason for this as O’Malley regretted naming her after his sister and thus basically stopped writing her unless he had to, sticking her in once in a while to assure fans he hadn’t forgotten her but removing her from the main plot.  That being said while his reason is weak.. I dn’t think it’s the ONLY reason she slid into the background. The main cast already had 6 characters, and on top of that this volume heavily focuses on Envy, the next adds Lisa Miller to the mix, and every volume frmo this one on has increased focus on the ex of the week, building them up more as characters and giving them way more screen time. Stacey.. really didn’t have a unique niche or roll in the sotry the other 5 non-scott leads didn’t: Knives filled out the position as the baby of Scott’s friend group, Ramona and Wallace served as better voices of reason, Kim and Wallace had better chemistry with Ramona and thus worked better as her friends, and Stpehn. did nothing she did but still at least had a part to play as band leader and the only one of Sex Bomb-Omb with ambition. Stacey is not a bd character and DID deserve to still be  way more prominent.. but her move to the back let Kim take her place and rightfully so. And not just because of the crush on kim thing, Kim’s just more compelling and tha’ts an objective fact. Still would’ve been nice to learn more about Stacey though. 

Scott then frees his girlfriend from a conversatoin with Sandra and Monique, as Julie bitchily told both about Gideon which Envy told her about, because as your every couple of paragraphs reminder, Julie is a piece of shit. Scott then orders them some alchols, breaking his usual teetotling and runs into kim, hollie and joseph. with Hollie here to see the band and .. Joseph here to see todd. At least h’es honest.. for this volume. Anyways, our happy couple soon split off for a bit and while we bounce back and forth.. i’m just going to cover what hapepned with each seperately as SOMEHOW tumblr once again ate a good hour’s worth of work, this review is already a day late, and I have both abother one and a dental apointment today. So in short

Ramona and Kim: Kim fills Ramona in on her past.. via  tone down, seemingly contridctary, and as we’ll find out later the true version of what happened: She was with Simon, he was a dick, Scott showed up he was also a dick, things happened. I guess. Ramona is disapointed, though Kim does provide some crucial info on her moving to tronto.. and reuniting with scott. 

It honestly.. explains a LOT of why Scott is the way he is what happened with Envy. He saw Envy change entirley as a person.. and thus feels changing as a person , and smoking, is a sign of something bad.. when really it just means.. your changing. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst but we area LWAYS changing and it took me a lont time to realize that. The two are distracted from this though by Todd sloppily making out with Lynette in front of everyone. 

We’re also reintroduced to Crash and the Boys, now redubbed the boys and crash, and seemingly playing music without intsturments. The thorughly lovely and rediculous explinaton for this and their new gloves and goggles, i’ll save for in a bit. 

Scott and Envy, Scott and Knives: Scott goes out to get some air.. only to find Envy, who despite menally tourturing him for a few days insits they talk like regular people.. Scott wisely counters with “Nat when did we ever talk like real people” and while saying he won’t get to call her that again, it still chips down her walls for a second and shows that a bit of who she used to be, loath as she is to admit it, is still there. 

Scott then spots knives... and has a moment of truth. And a hell of a series of reaction panels

It’s a VERY good scene.. that i’ve written about TWICE now but regardless, it shows Scott.. genuinely changing. Ignoring his past actions, running away from them and trying to pretend he never fucked up once... that’s been his go to. It’s his main flaw and hte one that takes the entire series to deal with as we’ll get into. And it’s here.. he faces it for the first time. He’s scared of knives at first.. but realizes.. he genuinely hurt her, and she’s where she is, cold, alone, and huddled in an ally lost and confused, because of him. Sure Envy hurt her.. but so did he.. and what’s worse. he did it just like Envy hurt him. Not thinking of her as a persona nd throwing her away when he didn’t need her. And so after books of build up.. he finally takes some responisblity and talks to her. It’s WHY the books work: Sure scott’s a dick, and remains a bit of one throughout, but.. he means well, isn’t inteitonally a standoffish prick, and slowly grows PAST this, and tries to be better, for Ramona.. and just because it’s the right thing to do. 

So Knives reflects on the past few weeks, admitting that it’s been unbearably painful.. but she can’t and won’t go back to who she used to be. She’s lost her innocnce and all that, been dumped by the “love of her life”, been punched in the face by her faviorite drummer and treated like dogshit by her faviorite artist. Todd did nothing for once but gets no credit because of who we’re dealing with here. Point is.. it was a lot and while sh’es not HAPPY.. she’s greatful for it. Scott however.. steps up, saying what Envy did was wrong, she deserved better.. and finally, after how terribly he broke up wit hher.. apologizes for how he hurt her. And while Knives takes this as hope they’l get back together, Scott continues to be very mature, especially for his usual behavior, telling her no, it won’t happen, to give neil a try as whle she is dating him because he looks like Scott he’s not all bad, and that wallce was right: she was too good for him. And while Knives isn’t ready to accept it.. Scott did the right thing. Good for you man. 

So while he, and later kim and stephen seperatly, get ready, Ramona.. runs into Envy. Whose oddly nice for ahlf a second.. before bringing up Gideon and giving Ramona a barrage of insults, clearly trying ONCE AGAIN, to knock her down and wreck her. Thing is while Scott clearlya nd understandably has baggage with Envy is easy prey for her manipulative elephant dung, Ramona. isn’t. All Envy’s done is piss her off more and more with each act of high school level mean girl bullshit... and sh’es done with it. 

FIGHT’S ON. This Volume.. is honestly where Ramona really comes into bloom, pun intended, as the duetragonist of the books. While the book IS about Scott getting his life together and their relationship and he’s still her hero.. the books are also about RAMONA growing as a person, her own flaws and past, and the climax of all of them.. is just as much about her as it is scott. And this book has her own flaws come into play: Just like Scott she runs from the past, from who she was, and only faces it when needed, which will become more apparent as we go. But at the same time, we get to see far more of her personality as a result as her mysterious facade continues to drop. She’s prone to getting upset, but also clever and witty and knows her limits, knowing that going to that second performance would’ve just done no good and knowing herself very well, something Scott has genuine trouble with. She’s strong, sarcastic and knows who she is and what she wants and this volume finally brings that into focus. Not only that but her fight with Envy, is just as warranted, climatic and awesome as Scott’s fight coming up, as no one has stood up to envy due to her fame.. but Ramona.. dosen’t care. Someone’s gotta stop her, and Ramona’s taking up the job. And the awesome looking hammer. 

That being said taking up a giant hammer against a beloved celebrity dosen’t win you any point, so Ramona finds herself discouraged, even if Envy can very clearly handle herself. Thankfully she gets some encouragment from exactly who you’d expect. 

And Wallce.. turns out to be pretty useful. At least in this one fight. His shouting not only gives Ramona her fight back.. but keeps distracting envy, leaving her wide open. The tide turns though when Wallace has to pee, and Envy uses the distraction to knock the hamme rout of Raona’s hand and prepare to flatten her. But once again.. someone save sher in the knick of time.. and this time it’s the LAST person you’d expect, as Knives gives the hammer a flying kick.. and then crashes into a wall, and when Ramona, understandably not getting this since she tried to turn her into swiss cheese earlier this week, asks why, Knives admit’s she just wants Scott to be happy. Knives has grown too, and while she’s still obessed with Scott and waiting for themt o break up.. she’s no longer going to try and wedge her way in. If Ramona is what Scott wants, tha’ts what he gets. 

All three are distracted by well.. this...

State of your outfits mates. Though that line is iconic. But serously the outfits are hilaroiusly and reaslitically mismatched. Kim’s home made and overdone gothica lolita outfit that dosen’t match her AT ALL, goth yes , poofy goth no. Stephen’s johnny cash outfit he clearly had lying around and Scott’s Dad Suit. 

That being said.. still the best looking one of the three. But Envy takes advantage to regrab the hammer and try and murder the two of them.. but Scott sees this.. and well... you get it by now, one more time. Bake me away toys!

So we get the final weeks or days or whatever of the relationship. In a nice parallel to Scott playing Ramona a song he does the same for Envy.. who both questions what this is for then is confused why he’d do something so sweet. Next scene is her getting a call while their cuddling in bed from some guy she idntiefies as Jason and.. barely disguises is clearly cheating on Scott with. and could possibly be todd I dunno.  After that we get to Kid Chamelon preparing to sign a deal and Envy.. trying to press Scott into sginging it, ignoring his obvious discomfort, and then casually threanting to replace him. While Scott does give us a face punchingly dickish comment about “How he started this band to meet chicks and maybe he met the wrong chick”... he’s still somehow in the right as while he’s being a manic dickhead... Envy has ceased seeing him as a person or even something she cares about and tells him to get a hair cut and leave. 

We then get the breakup itself as Scott goes up to envy.. and she tells him to get out of her life. ack in the present, Scott’s grown enough to realize he has to stop her and does so.. by touching hte back of her knee which.. uhhhh.

So yeah.. he beat her with an orgasm, and that looks oddly hot. And i’m moving on before that last part of the sentence sinks in. Envy, once she recovers, orders Todd to do a murder on them, but Todd’s not there and Ramona, naturally, brags about him having cheated on her. Envy.. denis.. this. 

I .. don’t have time to unpack that. This review is late, I have two other reviews to get to today. Time for ANOTHER flashback. 

This time it’s Envy teling a story bok verion of her and Toddd’s relationship. It’s a real poetic and well done sequence. In a nuthsell: Envy and Todd were best friends and deeply in love as kids until todd moved away i’m guessing sometime in middle school. Deeply depressed, Envy sailed through life as sort of a ghost, TRYING to find another connection like that, but failing. Todd returned after she graduated though, and gave her a symbol of his love.. a hole on the moon. Yes another one. And they both promised to never waiver as he went off to the vegan academy. Clearly Envy did with Scott... but it paints her ambition in another light. One where she wanted to be big and bold enough for him.. but slowly carved out her old self to do so. 

And as is obvious it was pointlness: not only did Envy love someone else.. but Todd never cared as much as she did. As Ramona points out, and relcutnantly because even she feels a little bad about this one, he did the moon trick with her.. and this time Envy CAN’T deny it.. becaue the evidence is right there. 

And of course Todd.. makes his case even WORSE by picking that moment to come out of the bathroom, sipping up his pants, with panties on his head, and with Lynette following right after him. Envy.. tries to murder Lynette, her go to, but LYnette teleports out. Because she can do that. Though Envy does hit her cyborg arm so she looes that and the panties and Ramona offers to mount it at her place if Kim takes the panties, but kim admits she wasn’t scrapbooking, she said she was and was just making the dress. Horay, as ramona puts it “Col se can still be friends. Right.. FRIENDS. 

Envy TRIES to cave Todd’s skull in, get some therapy woman, but Todd naturally tk’s it away but despite being the king of all assholes DOES care enough not to fight her. Envy... plays nice then knees him in the nuts like he fucking deserves. Todd then returns to being the once and future douchebag by TK’ing her into the crowd and bragging about it. 

Scott dosen’t take this well, even after everything and the final fight begins. They have a bass fight.. but like the game i’ts redicuously one sided since Todd both is a skilled bassist compared to Scott.. and is still using his psychic powers lest you forget he’s a bastard man. 

The Boys and Crash however show up to even the odds.. and their trainig is the reason they can play music without insturments as they can now manipulate pur sound. Fucking beautiful. But even they aren’t enough and Todd swats them aside. 

While poorly is a bit harsh.. the vegan police show up, which is awesome, though the movie got thomas jane for one of them and had that high five so they win. But yeah.. while this is hilarous.. and the scene with them is great.. it’s also the weakest part of an otherwise near perfect book. It just feels a bit anti clmatic that after all this build up.. Todd is just.. beaten with a sloppy depower. The boys and crash would’ve still been a cop out, but it would’ve been a freaking cool cop out.  The thing that saves it is afterwords Scott still gets an epic finish: after they devganize him for the gelato earlier, scott headbutts him epicly and wins. He gets money and. 

A 1-up, which understandibly terrfies him but will come in hand in a few volumes. Trust me. Scot checks on everyone. Ramona’s fine, Envy is not and breifly blames scott before he points out Todd was a no good cheating dickwad, and Kim is obviously fine as nothing happend, but him asking is a nice bit of charcter growth. Kim asks about kinves but she’s okay and neil is helping her. But theshow must go on and since the headliners are dead (don’t worry he’ll respawn), in parts unknown and in emotoinal apocalypse, someone’s gotta play.

So our heroes have the show of their lives, and crowd reaction is mostly positive with Jospeh noticing htier levels were horrible, a hint for next time, and the crew interviewing everyone.. including a mysterous gentleman having a beer, who has no commenta nd walks away. 

 Gideon.. was here the whole time,but he’s not ready for Scott JUST yet. Still a really damn cool tease for the final boss. 

So we close the next day, Scott and Envy sorta make up, with both apologizing for their behavor and while Scott gets no closure, envy promises to return.. and makes good on it. But.. that’s for the finale. For now Scott’s girlfriend and best buddy give him a moment to baste in his pathos, before heading off. And in a nice bit of metaphor, the clouds part, and our three amigos walk off into the sunset and a bright future. Three down 4 to go.  Next time: Lesbian Artist Ninjas! Side Stories! Scott Gets A Job! The Band gets a producer! Kim gets a decent apartment and a boyfriend! Lisa returns! See you in feburary. 

Until then if you liked this review, spread it around andi f ther’es a comic you want me to cover, my comissions are open. Until the next rainbow, it was a pleasure. 

[szivtalan]

character ask: kagami, momoi, alex and himuro 👀👀👀

!!! omg thank u Ceru! u might be one of my favorite mutuals <33 (putting this under a read more just so I can speak at lengths about each individual character)

Why I like Kagami: this is where I sarcastically ask “why DON’T i like him” but that’s literally the next question so; he’s everything i want to be and more. He has the determination and the willpower to make his own dreams come true, he’s gay as shit, he’s tall and buff and well-adjusted, mature enough to live on his own at an annoyingly young age, he’s funny and dumb and a total himbo as well as an excellent advisor bc of how grounded he is.

Why I don’t: I’m... not really good with explosive people. Violent men with loud voices especially scare me, and I’d think I’d flinch around him a lot and that would make me rlly anxious.

Favorite episode: it’s a toss-up between the Seirin fam visiting his place for the first time (is it where Kuroko confesses his love to him and then passes out in his arms? idk), and the onsen episode. I also loved all his plays against Kise and Aomine. AND the training camp w him running a lot in the sand.

Favorite season/movie: season 2 probably because he’s not a jerk anymore, but he’s still on his way to shed off any asshole behavior stuck to him. And I actually liked Last Game?

Favorite line: “There’s no such thing as useless effort.” and “This is our drama and we write the plot.” because he’s so ridiculous.

Favorite outfit: all of his casual fits... comfy but manly is my Jam

OTP: AoKaga....they’re truly soulmates, star-crossed lovers, canonically brought together by fate.

Brotp/otp no. 2: KagaKuro, I love them

Head Canon: I have several collections because I think too much about this boy, but here’s something I think about his family: he doesn’t know what happened to his mom. He never asked, because it wasn’t relevant, and he didn’t want to inconvenience his dad by questioning him. Occasionally, as a kid he felt like he was missing out on something (seeing other kids with their moms, feeling like they’re being treated with much more gentle care because they have moms), but as he grew older he realized that nurturing behavior shouldn’t have been limited to only a mother, and that he was just straight up neglected without any regards to missing a parent in his life.

Unpopular opinion: I never realized this was an unpopular opinion but I’m glad he went back to America at the end of Last Game. Obviously, it’s sad that he had to separate from the others, but I felt like Japanese basketball has always been just a stepping point to him, and now that he’d beat the best of them, it was time to move on. And it also warms my heart that him getting scouted in the US gave Aomine hope to aim big, too. I felt like both of them would’ve felt trapped in Japan with their skill sets.

A wish: I want him to be happy and gay and to confront Himuro and tell him how hurt he was by how he treated him and probably do the same to his dad too

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: ....whatever I’d say Shinsun has probably written it/will write it, but I don’t want him to forget about the GoM just because he becomes a world-famous athlete.

5 words to best describe them: sweet child with anger issues

My nickname for them: not mine (it’s Sypha’s) but “Kags”, Kagami, Tigerboy, Kagababe, Baby

Why I like Momoi: she is SO nurturing and sweet and she cares so much about her boys!! I’m sorry it always turns into “how they remind me of myself” but actually I get feeling like a background character and being the moral/emotional/physical support of those who are more talented or in any way better than you. I feel a strange kind of kinship with her and also,,, feminine girls make my heart stop, and it doesn’t get more feminine than Momoi. Added: Aomine aside, the Touou team wouldn’t worth shit without her skills tbh, and she’s not in any way less than the GoM. Also, I appreciate her being the one person to try to keep their friend group together.

Why I don’t: Analytical People Scare me like!! how do u know stuff people are Unknowable!! I usually am also irked by her pointing out Riko’s breast size but I can just pretend that’s in a gay way (maybe Momoi likes girls with small boobs and she’s just bad at flirting) (also I don’t exactly liked her calling Aomine a “ganguro” but I have too little knowledge on the use of this word to say exactly why)

Favorite episode (scene if movie): uh the one where Aomine made her cry? It really came through how much love she actually has for her friends at that one.

Favorite season/movie: she was great in all of them!!

Favorite line: I can’t remember the exact quote and Google isn’t really helpful either but the one where she made Kuroko promise they’ll always play together or something? Or that they’re gonna beat Aomine?? idk?

Favorite outfit: I like all of them but mostly I just appreciate her wearing so many hoodies, she looks so cute in them

OTP / Brotp: it’s both AoMomo. I feel like the have the most special and strongest bond in the entire series.

Head Canon: She’s never been shown to do, but I feel like she wears Aomine’s clothes a Lot. Also, they definitely have sleepovers To This Day.

Unpopular opinion: Momoi is good at basketball and she loves playing!!! But try being successful in it when ur opponents are Giants and Way More Buff than you are

A wish: I wish people appreciated her more!! Both in fandom and in canon. She’s an amazing person and she has her own skills and strengths that are rarely explored or even mentioned anywhere.

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: her falling out with her boys ;-; I do not want that

5 words to best describe them: strawberry sweetheart to steal ur heart

My nickname for them: Satsuki :> I feel like it’s a little too much to call characters on their first names sometimes but hers is so cute I can’t

Why I like Alex: yet again another woman with an extensive skill set. I love her persistence and again I appreciate getting disillusioned and finding your way back to the thing you love. Also it’s just sweet that she did that by teaching (again, something I can relate to)

Why I don’t: the whole “kissing children” thing rubbed me the wrong way but again, just like Momoi’s obsession with comparing breast sizes, it’s just bad/sexist writing from Fujimaki probably

Favorite episode (scene if movie): adshg any and all where she expressed that Himuro and Kagami are equally important to her <33 that shit makes my heart burst

Favorite season/movie: she only appears towards the end of s2 and in s3 so... I guess s3?

Favorite line: its so Bad that u literally can’t find the iconic quotes of these iconic ladies anywhere but... her story on finding her passion again through teaching kids, and anytime she mentions her fondness of Kagami and Himuro.

Favorite outfit: her iconic olive green coat with the short red shorts... wtf was that I loved it.

OTP: she doesn’t really interact with people her age but I’ve heard she’s shipped with Masako Araki and I’ve seen some seriously good fanarts and like... Yes Good I’d Love To See It

Brotp: I feel like her and Himuro would be that sassy pair that Kagami tries and fails to contain and they get into all sorts of weird, absurd situations asdjs what I’m trying to say is Kagami has to bail them out of jail from time to time

Head Canon: fck me if I’m wrong but she’s the lesbian single mom of the two gay kids she reluctantly adopted from the streets

Unpopular opinion: it’s more like another headcanon, but she can dunk and she taught Kagami how to do it.

A wish: I’d love her to coach the Seirin fam more!! Pls let her be part of her children’s lives (she could also judge streetball games between the goms it would be fun)

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: anything about her being romantically involved with her pupils makes me.................no

5 words to best describe them: Beautiful Beach Blonde Basketball....goddess

My nickname for them: Alex!! sometimes An Icon

Why I like Himuro: em dash Asdgsdj I’m joking, I’m becoming more and more fond of the boy. Once I realized that he shouldn’t have been the “bigger person” in that situation and one year doesn’t really mean much when you’re that young and that hurt, I realized he’s actually a good and hard-working kid and I’m sorry for giving him so much shade. Also I really like his snark and sass, but that might not even be canon at this point tbh

Why I don’t: I’m still sort of irked by him beating down on Kagami because he was envious/mad, but I realized the aspect of that situation that Really got to me was how devoted Kagami still was to him after all that. That devotion was what felt toxic, nothing that Himuro actually did to him.

Favorite episode (scene if movie): the time they met up w Kagami just to exchange a dramatic socially distancing bro fist and a few encouraging words.... gays be Like That

Favorite season/movie: I really didn’t mind s3 Himuro

Favorite line: apparently he’s said some iconic stuff that I don’t remember (and my sources don’t seem really legit) but I’m gonna say “let’s see you become number 1, bro” because again, that’s just so ridiculous and endearing. On one hand he really went from loathing Kagami to rooting for him and wanting him to reach his full potential and on the other, honey ur  like 17 stop speaking like That

Favorite outfit: his knitted V-neck sweaters and the black coat with the white fur.... boy’s got all the fashion sense that’s missing from Kagami

OTP: can I say.....AoHimu asdfh I ship 3/4 of these characters with Aomine what does that say about me

Brotp: KagaHimu. They can be sweet, but I’ve only ever seen Jake write them really well

Head Canon: I’ve been entertaining the idea of....trans Himuro.....

Unpopular opinion: everyone thinks that Kagami is the violent kid and Himuro is the chill, sweet child who’s somehow wound up with this mess of a fiery tiger, but it’s actually Himuro who taught Kagami how to fight and Kagami learned quite a lot of aggression from him

A wish: I feel like Himuro should’ve gotten a separate episode to explore his thoughts, feelings and past. He had so much potential as a character Is2g

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: him quitting basketball would fucking destroy me. I’d be devastated for others too, but it would really pull on my heartstrings if he just dropped the only thing he’s been so passionate about.

5 words to best describe them: gender-non-conforming emo child

My nickname for them: Himu, Tatsuya, Tatsu

[purplesurveys]

1264

Who are you subscribed to on YouTube?  Oh man, I’m probably subscribed to over a hundred, if not 200. I’ve subscribed to channels relevant to interests I’ve had over the years, and since it’s not my habit to do spring cleaning on my feeds, the subscriptions have just keep piling up even if I no longer keep up with literally like 98% of them.

Do you like to go to the farmer's market?  I don’t think I’ve ever been in one yet. They aren’t very common here and the ones we do have are pricey and mostly inaccessible to the everyday consumer, I’m sure.

What will (or was) the color of your wedding dress be?  I wouldn’t want any other color than white.

What's your favorite melon?  I don’t like fruits.

What was the name of the last pet of yours that died?  Arlee. Technically my family mostly considered her as just Nina’s pet, but the sting was felt all the same when we learned she died.

When was the last time you wished the day would just get over with?  Yesterday, because it was Friday. Pretty self-explanatory, I wanted to get to the weekend so I can finally let go of work for a couple of days.

Name one person you've never had a fight with:  Andi. I think we’re both afraid of pissing the other off, which works out for us lol.

What are you currently listening to?  I can just hear the really loud whirring of my electric fan because it’s a grossly humid day today.

What would you rather have: cat or dog?  Dogs.

Who is your least favorite person in real life?  I have a lot of uncles I just don’t like.

Do you ever watch anybody's live stream of... anything, really?  Technically, yeah. I will sometimes tune in to livestreams of lofi music on YouTube, but I do it to listen, not to watch. 

Does your house have security cameras?  No.

If you go grey as you age, would you dye your hair or let it be?  I think I might dye it for a certain period of time, but I also think I would eventually reach the point where I’ll just accept it and slowly let go of the dye.

What was the last establishment you stopped going to due to bad service? What happened?  I haven’t run into much bad service, but I’ll never forget how long my order and bill took for Mad Mark’s. I never really vowed per se to never go back there again and I definitely didn’t confront the staff, but I haven’t eaten there since that incident.

What soundtrack do you listen to the most?  Not a big soundtrack listener.

Was there a family secret you weren’t told about until you were an adult?  Nah, they’re kept from us until now. The biggest one I’ve heard about was having a kleptomaniac in the family but we were never told who it is.

Do you have an opinion most people you meet seem to disagree with you?  Yeah, my dislike for fruits.

What’s something you like to have many options to choose from?  Clothes, I guess, like bucket hats. I don’t shop a lot and clothes aren’t a priority in my budget, so when I do pick out clothes, it has to be exactly what I want so that I don’t feel it was a waste of money.

What’s the strangest decorative object you own?  We have several quirky, disconnected decor in the living room from gifts we’ve acquired over the years. One object I can tell you about is the polar bear glass figurine we have on the coffee table.

What’s a thing you couldn’t imagine doing with your life right now?  Dating around.

What’s been your proudest moment?  Managing to stay alive this year and turn my life around for the better when I thought there was no hope.

What’s the filthiest non-pornographic movie you’ve seen?  Eyes Wide Shut, probably.

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals?  I don’t think so. Like any animal...? I would find that quite odd, honestly. And I wouldn’t want to be friends with them if we weren’t already close .

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts?  No, nothing set in stone. I do want to fly out to South Korea soon, though.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal?  I know a few people who are afraid of dogs.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer?  Yeah, Apple.

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills?  Hayley Williams and Jin, especially when he’s belting; and I don’t listen to her much, but I find that Billie Eilish has a unique voice that sounds really nice.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand?  Selena Gomez for some of her songs, Meghan Trainor for most of her songs.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf?  No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today?  Sure.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming? My aunt sent over this gigantic-ass slab of salmon that I can’t wait to eat as sashimi. I already had a few pieces last night and it was hea ven ly.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately?  Hmm, I don’t think so. I know my coworker Dev got into a relationship a few weeks ago but it fizzled out as soon as it started because the guy was shitty.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it?  Only on the emotional side; I rarely get physical symptoms. I usually feel down or emotionally heavy a few days before my period.

Have you ever had a tattoo covered up or added to?  No, I don’t have any tattoos. Can you remember the last time you had a sudden change of mind?  Hmm, like last night. I wanted to stay up to maximize the weekend, buuuut I decided against it and slept instead since I had been up since 2 in the morning.

When was the last time you did something on a whim?  Two weeks ago when I impulsively dropped a thousand bucks to have cheese tarts delivered to Angela and Reena, hahaha.

Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you?  My mom, grandma, and one of my aunts were the main people who raised me. Dad works overseas, so he was never at home much.

Have you ever began a relationship with someone you knew for less than a week?  No, I wouldn’t do that.

Has one of your friends ever tried to ‘hook you up?’  Mik tried to pair me with one of his friends just days before I finally implied on social media that I was no longer in a relationship. It was a cool ego boost but I declined, since my emotions were still super turbulent then. Andi tried to initiate sex with me once too, but I also declined.

What is your card game of choice?  I hate card games; I can never seem to understand them lmao, though that’s really more of a me problem than anything else.

What is your favourite books series?  Growing up, I really loved the Septimus Heap series. But the thing about it was that I got into it while the series was still ongoing; and with how bad my attention span is, I always forgot the events/plot whenever the newest book came out. 

So whenever that happened I had to read the entire series from Book 1; eventually the number of books I had to reread/revisit became too many (it was a seven-part series) and I simply just lost the time to read and I never got to know about the conclusion.

Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions?  Street names – more precise. Landmarks to me can be pretty subjective – a green building might look blue to me, and I could just end up being lost.

Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books?  Sure.

What was your favourite gym class moment?  If I genuinely like or already play the sport that was being taught. That’s why PE table tennis was a lot of fun for me.

Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun?  I’ve never been on one but I imagine they are fun, yeah.

Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks?  That’s not a tradition here.

Do you have a favourite Scooby-Doo movie?  No. I was too young for Scooby-Doo in a sense that I do remember watching the movies as a 3/4 year old as they were kept on in the background at home, but I didn’t get any of the plots/didn’t really appreciate the films.

Do you think it’s cute when toddlers try to run away and fall down?  Sometimes, yeah. If the fall looked nasty I would obviously be concerned.

Do you enjoy listening to your grandparents tell stories of their past?  Honestly, only one of my grandparents would be the type to do this but he’s been dead for six years now. It’s a big shame he passed before I could bond with him the way I had always wanted to. My three other grandparents are either too closed off or too quiet to share stories from their youth.

Do you have a crush on someone? Nah, nothing more than a celebrity crush.

If so... what does his/her name begin with? 

What attracts you to them? 

Do they know that you like them? 

If they don't know, why didn't you tell them? 

Name two people that you miss:  Angela and Laurice.

Have you ever seen Titanic?  More times than I can count. I’m sure I memorize like 80% of the script, too.

Have you ever swam with dolphins?  No. I’m not so sure if I’ve seen dolphins, either. Maybe I have? Or maybe I’m confusing it with whales...idrk.

When was the last time you had a stomachache?  Wednesday.

What's going to bed early for you?  11 PM or midnight.

Do you want to have a big family in the future?  I used to, but I don’t think that’s the future I want anymore. One or two kids should be okay.

What was the last thing you did that gave you a rush?  Technically speaking, an orgasm, I guess?? Lmao idk

Favorite Nicholas Cage movie?  I don’t think I have one.

Have you had your Covid vaccine yet? Which one, if you have?  Yeah, I’m fully dosed. Sinovac.

If you've had your vaccine, did you experience any side effects?  I was suuuuuuper tired right after my first dose and I wanted to be knocked the fuck out, but I went right back to work after the shot because I am allergic to filing leaves hahaha. Second dose went smoothly.

What's the next item of clothing that you intend to buy for yourself?  A bucket hat or maybe one of the Fila x BTS shirts because the collection is actually quite cute!

What Facebook groups have you found the most helpful?  I join Facebook groups to be entertained, not because I actively look for advice.

Do you like your butt? Why or why not?  Yeah. It...has a good form hahahahahaha.

Have you ever personally been a victim of homophobia?  Yes, a few years ago I went to a food park with my ex-girlfriend. I was already not feeling my best that day to begin with, so having to see an old woman stare daggers at us for what felt like years really stung. I felt small under her look and almost cried, but in the end I felt angry that I momentarily felt shame about my relationship. I decided to just piss the woman off on purpose and do PDA right in front of her.

Do you think you’d be happier if you had a pet? I have two dogs at present and I know they make me extremely happy.

Who was the last person you went on a date with?  Gabie.

Were you ever hospitalized as a little kid?  No. The first and only time I was hospitalized (other than being birthed), I was about 12, I think.

What’s your favorite way to curl your hair?  I don’t do that. I rarely style my hair.

At what age did you start swearing?  I was 11.

What is something you physically can’t do?  Ride a bike.

What do like better, apples or oranges?  I don’t like any fruits; but in terms of flavored stuff, I like orange-flavored food, especially chewy candy, slightly more.

Around the holidays, do you hope for snow?  Well, no.

What are your top two favorite bands?  Paramore and Against Me!

How many people do you 100% trust?  There are a handful. I generally trust easily just because I like to believe all people are kind and loyal – but I can also take it away in the snap of a finger.

Do you care what others think about you?  Not so much.

Has anyone ever called you a bitch?  Sure.

Did you watch Teletubbies when you were younger?  Yeah but just super super faint memories. It wasn’t one of my main shows.

Do you have any licenses other than your driver's license?  I don’t.

Could you live the rest of your life without eating meat?  I doubt it. I could try, but I think I’d get cranky and start looking for meat way earlier than I would like to admit.

Have you ever had a rolling backpack?  Yup, if you mean a stroller. I think I’ve answered this on a previous survey.

Did you make any money today?  No, because it’s a weekend. What was the highest place you've ever jumped from?  Nothing dramatically high. I’ve had acrophobia-themed nightmares in the past, so even though I don’t actually have a fear of heights, the idea of jumping from a high place still makes me antsy.

Have you ever gone swimming in a river?  Not that I can recall.

What was the last souvenir someone got you?  I dunno if it counts but Andi bought merch from the AEW shop but made sure to also get a CM Punk sticker set for me :(

Do you have a favorite remix of a song?  Remixes have never been my thing. What do you think is the most saddest sounding instrument?  Piano.

Do you really pay attention to the ratings on movies?  Yeah they can definitely affect the level of appreciation I hold towards a film. For instance, if I genuinely enjoyed a movie only to find out it has average to bad reviews, it invites me to think more critically about the movie.

Do you have a favorite species of wild cat (tiger/lion/cougar/etc.)?  No.

If you had $500,000, what would you do with it?  Give half to my parents and let them do whatever they wish it. With the remaining P12,500,000, I’d probably get myself my own condo and have it fully furnished, then get braces, then get a new phone and laptop. I’ll have a bunch of money still left, I’m pretty sure – the rest of it I’ll save.

Did the last person you touched lips with have a kid?  No. I mean, I have honestly no clue what’s going on in her life now, but I know she doesn’t want kids so this is very unlikely.

"First loves are never really over." Is this true for you?  It’s true in a sense that she left me a lot of trauma and self-esteem issues that will irrevocably always be a part of me now even though I’ve worked hard to resolved most of them by myself.

Did you like Michael Jackson before he died?  Yes, because he has always been my favorite singer’s role model.

What are some things that would make you break up with someone?  I don’t know how to answer this question, honestly. All the red flags were thrown and tossed and slapped into my face and down my throat for six years yet I never left. I don’t actually know what my limits are, and I believe it’s because my coping mechanism has to just accept things and suck them up no matter how bad they get. That’s what I’m trying to change for myself now.

What was the worst breakup you've ever had?  I’ve had two breakups with the same person, and the second one was worse.

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her  brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of  cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling  upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she  can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight  Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

[writingithink]

All The Skies Pairing: Ten x Rose Rated: T Wordcount: 6,740 Summary: After accidentally bonding, the Doctor and Rose start their honeymoon.

Notes: This is for Day 1 of @timepetalsweek !!  I used two of the prompts, the picture prompt and 'dancing'. It is a follow up to my fic, In Case You Don't Stay Forever. There's not really a 'plot' for you to feel lost in if you don't feel like reading that as well. Thank you so much @hey-there-juliet for betaing!! (& honestly, convincing me that I could totally make up this planet). I own nothing (aside from mistakes).

READ IT ON AO3!! --> a copy/paste link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379095

“Here we are! Neghlyvryn!” the Doctor announced, opening the TARDIS doors with a flourish as he stepped outside and into a city square. Banners and streamers were everywhere. Crowds of people (well, aliens) were just starting to form. He couldn’t help a smug smirk - he’d gotten it right. Good.

“Blimey, it’s hot!” Rose exclaimed, having just stepped out behind him.

He turned to watch as she fanned herself, barely taking in the festive atmosphere.

“I told you it would be.”

“Yeah, and I dressed for summer, too, but here we are! How are you wearing your suit right now?!”

“Superior temperature regulation,” he explained as he gave her outfit a once over (and then a twice over). She looked great in anything, that was a given, but the pink tank top and tiny denim shorts she currently had on were particularly flattering (even if the amount of skin they revealed would likely distract him all day).

Rose’s discomfort and irritation were still the most prevalent emotions he could feel across their bond, but a bit of pleasure and happiness shot through. Still, she wasn’t smiling.

“Well lucky you. What’s the temperature right now, anyway?” she asked.

He squinted up at the sky and did a slow spin.

“About 27 degrees.”

“I’ve gotta change. Maybe see if the TARDIS has some sort of fancy clothes to keep me cool,” Rose decided, turning around.

“Roooose,” he whined, “it’s the morning! And it’s only going to get hotter. If we wait too long, it won’t be safe for you to play Jikltaii unless you decide to wear an enviro-suit!”

She glared at him over her shoulder before turning back around and crossing her arms. “And just how much hotter is it gonna get?”

“Errr, somewhere around 34 degrees, give or take. This is the Rhibelini Festival! It’s like their summer solstice, except it only happens once every fifteen years when their three suns align.”

Shoulda mentioned three suns when I was gettin’ ready, Rose grumbled over the bond as she finally walked up to him and took his hand. “Alright then, let’s get goin’. But we better get somethin’ to drink before we play this game of yours.”

The Doctor nodded enthusiastically, almost skipping as he led them away from the TARDIS. 

This would be their second full day as a bonded pair, and while he still hadn’t had time to properly research it, he had been able to meditate and construct some barriers that would actually be effective … on his end, at least. Since Rose had been asleep during his meditation, they hadn’t been able to work on hers (however her telepathy even worked to begin with). So while he still got plenty from her end, he was able to keep a majority of his less relevant trains of thought from bothering her (and while he could have tried to keep things more private, it didn’t exactly seem fair). Plus, he loved being bonded to Rose Tyler, accident or not.

“So, tell me about this Jiggle-Tie thing we’re gonna do,” Rose prompted as they entered the queue for a street cart, fanning herself with the bottom of her top.

For a moment his eyes zeroed in on her belly button before he made himself look away, focusing instead on the line of people - which was already long now, so he could hardly imagine what it would look like later in the day.

“Jikltaii,” the Doctor repeated, “with a ‘K’. It’s kind of like paintball, but with sling shots. And it’s kind of like capture the flag, but there’s three teams. You see, the Neghlyvits believe that their planet was created when the three sun goddesses reached a truce after fighting amongst each other for billions of years. Each sun’s name corresponds to a goddess; Rhiza, Beltof, and Iniya. Each goddess has a color. Red, or rhiz, for Rhiza. Then there’s orange, or belti, for Beltof and yellow, or iniv, for Iniya. Three teams, three colors of paint.”

“Sounds fun.”

The line was moving slowly, and Rose finally began to take in the surroundings with a hand over her eyes to keep the suns out. He dug through his pockets until he found a pair of her sunglasses, handing them to her and feeling a wave of gratitude across their connection.

I love you, he couldn’t help thinking.

It was getting a little embarrassing. By his count, he’d now told her this 26 times telepathically since she woke up (verbally only twice, so that would make it 28 times total).

I love you too.

At least she always said it back, projecting enough affection to dispel his embarrassment.

“So, what happens when you win at Jikkle-Tie?” she asked.

“Mmm, well, Neghlyvryn is an incredibly peaceful planet, and their culture obviously emphasizes compromise. This festival is called Rhibelini - an amalgamation of all three goddesses names - because this is the time when the goddesses renew their truce. So the team that wins a game of Jikltaii’s corresponding color determines what flavor of frip everyone eats at the end.”

“Frip?”

“It’s an ice cream-type treat,” he explained, swinging their hands together as the queue moved forward.

“That’s good. I’m definitely gonna need some, runnin’ around with a slingshot in this heat.”

“Yeah, I think that’s the general consensus.”

Eventually they reached the front and the Doctor ordered four waters, two kivries, and a couple poofs (each cut in half). He also got directions for the closest Jikltaii field.

“I’m not hungry yet,” Rose informed him as he handed her a kivy and a water before putting everything besides his own kivy into his trouser pocket.

“I just didn’t want to wait in line again. Imagine what it will be like once midday comes around?”

Ugh, fair.

“So this is like a soda, yeah?” she asked, after guzzling half the water bottle and then dumping the rest over her head. The Doctor couldn’t help but follow a few droplets as they trailed down her neck. Temperature was now not the only thing he needed to regulate.

“Yup. Very fizzy. Hey! Fizzy Kivy! It rhymes! Look at that!”

She laughed, her entire mental presence much brighter now that she’d cooled down a bit. They both opened their bottles before beginning to walk towards the field.

“Oh! ’S like- like lemon and somethin’ else …”

“Like lemon and cucumber,” he scowled, eying the bottle with disdain.

Rose took another sip. “Not so bad.”

“Blegh. Do you want mine, then?”

“Not right now,” she giggled before coughing and then sneezing after getting fizz up her nose.

And he knew she was fine, but the Doctor couldn’t keep himself from stopping and rubbing her back … just to make sure.

You’re sweet. 

See, it’s rumors like that that make Absorbaloffs from Clom think that they can do whatever they’d like, he couldn’t help but think. He immediately regretted it, as Rose began brooding about everything her mum had been through. Tea yesterday had gone quite poorly.

“Sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand again and quickly getting them to the Jikltaii field.

Once they’d paid - credits! He loved credits. So much easier than keeping track of specific currencies, even if he still didn’t quite understand the ins and outs of money - the attendant, a native male with fiery orange hair and the pale blue and brown speckled skin typical of most Neghlyvits, immediately began to divide everyone into teams.

“Iniv team,” he told Rose before turning to the Doctor. “Belti team.”

“B-but I want to be on Rose’s team!” he complained.

“Nope. Everyone’s divided by colors. Your hair is kind of orange.”

“But we’re on our honeymoon!”

A burst of affection came through the bond, though it was hardly noticeable over how hilarious his bondmate thought he was being. She could really do with being a bit more interested in their romantic endeavors.

Sorry .

I forgive you, the Doctor projected.

“May you lovingly cover each other with paint,” the attendant drawled before handing them each their appropriately colored paint balls and sling shots.

“And I suppose they’re on Iniv team, then?” the Doctor queried, pointing at the two aliens next to them - both green, covered in scales, and having no hair to speak of.

“Yes.”

Figured. Maybe he should have dyed his hair before this. Or worn a wig. How was he supposed to know that teams were chosen this way?

Rose sent a mental image of how he would look as a blonde. Ew. Nope. Not even a wig. Next time Rose would have to dye her hair. He already knew she looked fantastic as a brunette, he’d seen pictures.

“It’ll be fine,” she consoled him as the attendant began a speech about the rules.

Apparently you weren’t out as soon as you were hit - you just took a two minute time out and at the end of the game they would figure out which team had the most paint on them if no one captured any flags.

“I want to be on your team,” the Doctor pouted.

“I think it’ll be more fun this way. Winner owes the other one a favor,” Rose smirked. Several thoughts flashed through her head at once, and he caught images of him painting her toenails, folding her laundry, cooking her dinner and a few that were decidedly X rated that she probably wouldn’t need to use a favor to cash in.

Good to know.

Still, he didn’t fancy folding her laundry.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he decided. They shook on it. “What happens if Rhiz team wins?”

“We’ll call that a tie. Each owe the other a favor.”

Before he could argue that, it was time for the teams to move out to their respective starting points. He could have continued over the bond, but his team mates were vying for his attention as they talked strategy. 

It was just as fun as he thought it would be (though being on Rose’s team would have made it more fun). In the first fifteen minutes of the game, he didn’t see his wife anywhere. For a moment the Doctor worried that she had been assigned to guard their flag - how boring - but she was broadcasting much too much enjoyment and general competitiveness for that to be the case. Then he saw her head peeking out from behind a paint-caked wooden partition.

He ducked down, carefully keeping cover until he was right next to the barrier before he quickly jumped over it, shooting her twice before he landed clumsily on the other side.

“Ooof!” She may have said it aloud, but he was the one who had just landed hard on his bum. Really need to figure out how to turn off that part of the bond. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. Not as fragile as you lot. No bruised tailbone.”

“Good,” Rose said, crawling over to him and giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Still, I’ll probably need to check it later.” 

If they weren’t telepathically connected, her meaning would have been made quite clear by the way she nipped his ear. 

“Oh,” he squeaked, looking around to see if anyone was watching them as she climbed onto his lap. Then she was snogging him, and the Doctor really didn’t care if they were spotted. She was so warm and soft and the way her mind was caressing his was one of the best things in the Universe, he was sure of it. He groaned, pulling her closer, wanting more of something, though he wasn’t sure what and-

Loads of something wet and sticky ran down his head.

“Gotcha,” Rose whispered before she sprang to her feet and ran off.

The Doctor sat there for a moment, slightly dazed, trying to manually redirect his blood flow. Honestly, what kind of tactician was he to have overlooked the fact that Rose Tyler plays dirty? Apparently the answer to that question was: the kind of tactician who really wants to snog Rose Tyler. He shook his head, got up and regained his bearings.

It’s on, now, you minx, he sent across their bond.

All he got for his trouble was the telepathic equivalent of laughter.

“Friendly fire?” Uriit, one of the women on his team, asked when they ran into each other near a ropes section of the field.

He looked down at his shirt to find it smeared with orange paint. 

“Something like that,” he answered, scratching the back of his neck and giving his ear a tug.

Throughout the rest of the game, the Doctor purposefully projected the most random things he could think of to Rose over the bond, hoping to distract her. Rambling lessons about tea cultivation, pocket dimensions, the War of the Eternals, different library cataloguing methods throughout time and space. Anything. The problem was, she wasn’t getting nearly as distracted by his thoughts as he seemed to always be by hers.

So he gave up that plan and set his sights on capturing the Iniv team flag as if the planet were at stake. This got him a five minute time out for attempting to mess with the sprinkler system.

In the end, team Rhiz did end up winning but no one caught any flags.

“Did you have fun?” Rose asked him as they sat at a picnic table eating their rhizit frip (berry-ish and minty, possibly the best frip flavor anyway, though they all sounded good to him).

“I would have had more fun if we were on the same team,” he sulked.

“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll wear a wig, yeah?”

He shrugged. While the thought of her in a wig intrigued him, it didn’t fix today’s Jikltaii mishap. This was supposed to be their honeymoon. You can only play Jikltaii on your honeymoon once, after all.

“Rubbish,” Rose told him, “and you know it. Mum’s busy plannin’ a wedding as we speak. We’ll have another honeymoon before ya know it.”

“Oh.” The Doctor sat up straighter, suddenly much more interested in his frip and the topic of wigs. “I didn’t think of that. How many honeymoons do you think we could have?”

“Depends how many times you wanna get married,” she smiled, tongue between her teeth. He was certain that if he snogged her he’d be able to taste her rhizit frip. It probably tasted much better that way.

Later.

“But we don’t have any frip on the TARDIS,” he informed her, moving to sit on her side of the bench.

“Could get some.”

He blinked.

“Didn’t you just tell me the other day about how time doesn’t pass in your pockets?”

She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his kivry from earlier, still cold and fizzy.

“I hadn’t thought you were paying attention,” he admitted.

“I just tune out the technical parts.”

Rose finished up her dessert as if this wasn’t important information. Maybe for her it wasn’t. She was Rose Tyler so of course she wouldn’t have to learn new things about herself.

“Sooo,” the Doctor began, leaning his back against the table and stretching his legs in front of him, “earlier, when I was telling you all of that stuff and you didn’t get distracted …?”

“Kinda like havin’ the telly on in the background.”

Well that wasn’t very flattering.

She rolled her eyes. “I pay attention to the important stuff. And the interestin’ bits. But you’ve gotta admit, it’s kinda like you were playin’ the history channel.”

Fair enough.

“What would you like to do next?” he asked, hopping up off the table and grabbing their frip containers to take to the rubbish bin.

“Well, first things first, we definitely need to change.”

“Both of us?” He frowned, furrowing his brow. What was wrong with his suit?

“Doctor, we’re covered in paint.”

“Oh,” he relaxed, taking her hand and leading them toward the exit. “That’ll be dealt with in a mo’.”

To leave the area, everyone had to go through a small blue outbuilding. The Doctor watched Rose look around and saw the moment she noticed all of the drains in the floor.

“Wait-”

Water sprayed down on them. It lasted only a minute, and then the doors on the other side slid open.

“Better?” he asked as they stepped outside.

“Well, ’s better than disinfectant. And so refreshing right now.”

He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the suns. Yup, about 31 degrees. He looked down at his suit - paint free (and drying very quickly).

“I still wanna change,” Rose said. They were walking hand in hand back toward the main city square. The crowds were dense around them, full of locals and tourists alike. The Rhibelini Festival was an intergalactic traveler’s must see. At least, that’s how the magazine had described it.

“You read about this in a magazine? What happened to them being dull?”

The Doctor huffed. “There wasn’t anything else to read or do at the time. We were trying to infiltrate that shady corporation on Arelenia II and I was sat in their waiting room. Had to blend in. Everyone else was reading those magazines they leave all over the place. In fact-” He dug into his jacket pocket “- here it is!”

“Why’d you take it?” she asked, grabbing it before attempting to read the cover page and walk at the same time.

“Well, it boasted the 250 must-see places for the experienced intergalactic traveler - that’s me. And I hadn’t been to some of them. I wanted the list. Also, the Geri Corporation committed many major human rights violations, and made me wait for almost an hour, so … they owed me.” He put his arm around Rose and led her to the side of the street before stopping and taking back the magazine. Should have known better, really. Rose Tyler and her magazines.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re not dull. They’re full of interesting stuff, and short for when you don’t feel like readin’ a whole novel.”

“The ones you read are always about clothes and makeup and gossip.”

“Useful, useful, funny.”

She may have him there - but he wasn’t going to admit it verbally. Her smug telepathic presence was enough, ta. They started walking again, Rose finally taking the time to people-watch.

“Those outfits, are they for somethin’ specific?” she asked, nodding toward a group of native girls wearing the traditional festival clothes - bralettes and asymmetrical skirts in yellow, orange, or red.

“Nope,” he replied, turning her attention to another crowd that had a mix of natives and tourists, most of whom were wearing the same basic outfit. Even a few men wearing the traditional skirt (though cut differently).

“It’s called a high-low.”

“What?”

“The skirts the girls got on. High-low.” Rose let go of his hand and placed hers at her mid-thigh. “High,” and then dropped it past her knees, “low.”

“Why would I ever need to know that?” the Doctor asked, puzzled.

She simply rolled her eyes, took his hand, and dragged him towards a row of shops. He tried to ignore her unflattering thoughts about men and shopping and blokes in general, figuring that he really wasn’t a man or a bloke so she couldn’t be referring to him. He hoped so, at least.

“I like their outfits, think I’d like to get one,” Rose told him as she began peeking into the shop windows.

“Okay.” Much better than going back to the TARDIS. More … festival-y.

So he tagged along behind her as she entered a boutique, hanging back when she went up to the counter and examining a display of hair accessories.

“Hello, I was wonderin’ if you could help me find a, uhm, traditional festival outfit,” Rose asked the clerk. The Doctor raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at the racks of said apparel that were plainly visible.

Yeah and are YOU an expert at the sizing here?

Deciding that she really must know best, the Doctor quietly left her to it, exiting the shop and letting her know telepathically that he’d be just outside. Outside was much more entertaining anyway. Buskers had begun playing, and there were pop up stalls, and all sorts of things to look at and do.

Would be better once Rose came back, though.

Still, couldn’t hurt to get the lay of the land. Have something planned for once she finished. It ended up being over forty-five minutes before Rose told him she was leaving the boutique, and he was down the other end of the block! That right there was some decent range. Eventually they were going to have to properly test how far apart they could telepathically communicate, but that could wait. The Doctor ran down the street, weaving between groups of tourists, before skidding to a standstill.

She was absolutely stunning.

The festival set she’d chosen was yellow - of course, really - with a gold (or iniyama) sun clasp at the centre of her bralette, and two tiny red and orange suns on each side near her arms. The skirt had a whispy white under-layer visible in the low part with little gold starbursts dotted around it.

If the goddess Iniya was real, he was certain that she would look just like Rose at this moment.

“Oh, Doctor,” she flushed before placing a hand on his cheek, pulling him down and kissing him. Unfortunately, as soon as he tried to deepen the kiss she pulled back.

Later.

He was getting tired of that word.

“C’mon, there’s activities this way,” he said, grabbing her hand and dragging her up the street.

“Hold your horses,” she laughed. “I’m gettin’ kinda hungry. We should eat those sandwiches you got.”

“Oh! Right! The poofs!”

“Poofs? Really?”

“Yup!” he told her, popping the ‘P’. 

It didn’t take long to find a picnic table - they seemed to be everywhere - and settle in with their food and another bottle of water. He wondered if he’d gotten enough.

“Huh. ’S like a fruity cold cut,” Rose commented after swallowing her first bite.

“Reminds me of blackberries,” he agreed. Definitely a better flavor combination than the kivry. He shuddered at the memory. Could still kind of taste it, even after the frip.

They were quiet, quickly eating the poofs, and then off back toward the fun. The Doctor glanced behind him as he led her through the crowd and was thrilled to see her smiling. Her mental presence was bright and happy and really, this was so amazing and such a great day. He should probably marry Rose Tyler as often as possible, so that they could keep going on honeymoons.

She laughed. “Y’know our life is travelin’ around, right?”

“Oh, but this is different! This is romantic traveling. Newlywed traveling.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Don’t you want to keep marrying me?” he asked, stopping in the middle of the street and pulling her closer.

“Mmm might do. Still, honeymoons generally last ‘bout a week. And we’ve got another wedding comin’ up. So how ‘bout we see how it goes.”

He kissed her, and once again she didn’t allow their tongues to even get a tiny bit involved.

Later.

Worst. Word. Ever.

He tilted his head back and let out a groan before continuing on until they reached the games area.

“It’s almost like a carnival!” Rose exclaimed, wandering over toward a water shooting game where winners could potentially get some chintzy star jewelry. “Gonna win me a bracelet?” she asked with a cheeky smirk, cocking her hips to the side and raising an eyebrow.

“As you wish,” the Doctor said with a mock-bow, walking up to the booth and picking up a water gun.

The game was rigged. Should be illegal, that. Ended up having to play six times just to get one dinky plastic bracelet, and the rhizala (metallic red) paint was noticeably chipping. He handed it to Rose with a frown.

“I love it,” she told him, immediately putting it on.

And the strange thing was that he could tell that she meant it.

“But- but it’s so cheap and they wouldn’t let me pick it out myself, so I couldn’t get the gold one, and-”

“I love it ‘cause you got it for me. And I’m keepin’ it forever,” she whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek.

Well. That was okay, then.

The next games stand they walked up to had a big banner atop it that said ‘Grizchootinki’ and appeared to be bobbing for apples, except the fruits were definitely not apples.

“How ‘bout I win you something?” Rose suggested, pointing at the stuffed toys hanging above the water barrel. She attempted to pull him toward the stand, but the Doctor would not budge.

“Why play that game when we could do this?” he blindly pointed to the stand across from it, then looked to see what it was.

Face painting.

Ehh …

She raised an eyebrow but still allowed him to take them over there, all the while not saying a word about how closed off he’d made their bond. Honestly, Rose had much more restraint than he did and he wasn’t sure how she did it. Still, he was grateful.

Or not. Once they got to the booth he noticed that his wife had a rather wicked gleam in her eye.

“Oh, you look wonderful!” the artist told Rose. “I have the perfect iniyama pattern for you. It will match your outfit so well!”

“Thanks,” she smiled, “but if you could do him first? He was super excited to come get his face done up.”

How had he gone so long without realizing that she was evil?

“Of course! Have a seat! We’ll have you looking more festive in no time. Definitely beltofana paint for you,” the artist said. Before he knew it the Doctor found himself seated, getting his face painted.

And it took ages.

“Alright, let’s see it,” he announced as soon as it was finished, pasting on a smile he really wasn’t feeling.

Oh, don’t be a baby.

Must have let the barriers slip while being tortured. Not surprising. (Also, it was incredibly hard to block the bond - it definitely did not want to be closed. Really had to get to that research).

You’re how old, now? Rose’s smile, at least, was genuine. And she wasn’t laughing (except in his head) so he must not look too ridiculous.

“No, wait until you’re both finished. It will be better if you see together.”

During his face painting, Rose and the artist had chatted. Once they found out that he and Rose were on their honeymoon, they got ideas. So he leaned against the booth and watched as she got her face painted. And it really did look lovely on her. But of course it did. Everything did. Weeeell, most things. To be fair, some things were designed to not look good on anybody - dinner lady uniforms came to mind. Even then, she was the best looking dinner lady of all of them. Though the rest were Krillitanes. Eh, still.

I love you, Rose’s telepathic voice rang in his head. 

And he’d been trying so hard all day to not keep saying it after this morning’s slightly insane overuse of the phrase, but now he wasn’t sure how he’d ever stopped saying it.

(Multiple marriage proposals may have had something to do with it).

I love you, too. So, so much.

Waiting to be able to touch her until her face was finished became incredibly difficult. But he managed. Barely.

(There was a brief moment where he sat on the ground next to her and rested his head against her hip, but he didn’t like the knowing look the artist gave him and decided to go back to leaning against the booth).

Then finally, finally she was done. 

The artist brought out a mirror from behind her booth and set it up for them to look. And as much as he hadn’t wanted to admit it, they had done a spectacular job. Both of their faces were decorated with intricate swirls and stars, the patterns somehow mirroring each other. The Doctor had a feeling that if he were to somehow overlay just the artwork, it would become one piece.

“This is so great!” Rose exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

“Oh, it was my pleasure. Now, the face paint is waterproof. It will fade naturally within the next week. If you need it removed before then, there is an alcohol solution that will speed up the process. I do sell it, if you need it.”

He was positive that he could easily make the solution himself on the TARDIS, but with Rose’s mental nudging he ended up buying some from the artist when he paid for the painting. He also left a very generous tip.

“Alright, so tell me,” she said out of seemingly nowhere as they walked away from the booth.

“Huh?”

“Tell me why you don’t want me to win you a stuffed, er, whale thingy.”

“It’s a star whale. They’re actually extinct. Funny thing about star whales-”

“Doctor.”

With a sigh he turned toward her, dropping her hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “You’d be bobbing for choots.”

“And?”

“They taste like pears,” he informed her.

“So? I’d be the one bobbin’ for ‘em.”

“Yeah … but …”

“But?”

“Then you’d taste like choots.”

Rose burst out laughing, her amusement apparently so great that she could hardly remain upright. It really wasn’t that funny. She just laughed harder.

“Stop it! You’re going to hurt yourself. Really, this is completely unnecessary. It’s almost suns-set! Ever watched three suns set at once? Rose! Stop laughing!”

She pulled herself together slowly, wiping a tear from her eye.

“I’m gonna bob for choots.” 

This obviously wasn’t up for debate, so bob for choots she did. And her game obviously wasn’t rigged like his had been. That or the game attendant with the wandering eyes was giving his wife preferential treatment. The Doctor glared at the adolescent until the boy looked properly terrified. And Rose had really only gotten enough choots to win a medium sized star whale, but the kid handed her the big one before sending them on their way.

“Ya didn’t have to go all ‘Oncoming Storm’ on ‘em,” she informed him while handing over the giant toy. Honestly, what was he supposed to do with this right now? He may have bigger-on-the-inside pockets, but they required the object to at least be pocket sized before going in.

“He was leering at my wife,” the Doctor muttered, trying to see if he could slowly squish the star whale into his jacket pocket, and failing.

Rose shook her head before swatting his hand away from his pocket. “Let’s just go back to the TARDIS and drop him off.”

“Him?”

“Don’t you think he looks like a boy?”

“I’m not sure star whales have genders.”

“Well, it’s your star whale, so whatever you want. Whatcha gonna name ‘em?”

“I … haven’t given it any thought. I’ll get back to you on it. We’ll have to be quick if we want to stop back at the TARDIS and catch the suns-set. Which I do. You’re going to want some sort of jumper or something anyway. It gets chilly once the suns go down,” he told her, finally managing to hold her hand and the stuffed animal at the same time.

It ended up being slow going. He could hardly see past the star whale, so Rose had to lead them and she was much more polite while walking in a crowd than he was. Also they had to walk. Couldn’t run with the star whale. Once they made it back to the TARDIS, the Doctor opened the door and chucked the stuffed animal into the console room.

“Aww poor star whale,” Rose pouted, as if the stuffed animal had feelings.

“Sammy is fine,” he assured her. “Now go fetch a coat, quick, or we’ll miss it.”

“Sammy the Star Whale?”

“Yes. Love me some alliteration. Now off you pop!”

Rose bit her lip, glanced in the TARDIS and then back to him. “It’d take ages for me to find something that looks good with this outfit. I don’t think we’ve got time.”

He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that she’d look good in anything. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t make a difference. She already knew he thought that, after all (not to mention it was now likely being repeated). It mattered to her, though, and she was right - the way she could dither around the wardrobe room, it would take ages.

“Alright, c’mon then,” he said, quickly grabbing his coat off a nearby strut and then her hand after locking the TARDIS. “I’ll keep you warm. Run!”

They sprinted through a few back alleys before he found a fire escape that didn’t look to be on the verge of collapse, and they ended up atop a grocers. The sky was already turning a deep orange as he fanned out his coat on the roof for them to sit on.

Rose cuddled into his side, lying her head on his shoulder as they settled in to watch the three suns set on Neghlyvryn. Orange slowly faded into pink and then purple, and six of the eight moons became visible.

“Can we hold hands and watch the sky together, forever?” he asked her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head,

“Forever is a long time to watch the sky, dontcha think?”

“Oh, but not just this sky. All of the skies.”

“All of ‘em?”

“Yeah,” he breathed into her hair.

“Well, that’s alright then,” Rose decided.

“Good.”

Then he realized that they were finally alone, that later had finally arrived. So he kissed her. And she tasted like choots, but it was okay. Well, it wasn’t okay, but he could get past it. Kind of.

Without much thought or planning the Doctor tipped them both over and he was on top of her, tongue exploring her mouth as if it was uncharted territory (and it kind of was, since he had never thought to actually map it the previous times they’d snogged). Rose moaned, pulled him impossibly closer, wrapped a leg around his hip, and he forgot all about mentally charting her mouth.

He was finally able to touch all of the tantalizing skin she’d had exposed all day, teasing him.

I love you, he projected across the bond and he didn’t care how often he told her. She needed to know.

I love you, too.

And maybe he needed to hear it. Just a bit.

He ran a hand up her back and felt her shiver … and then shiver some more.

When he pulled back, Rose was gasping for breath and still shivering.

“Sorry, here,” he said, helping her to stand before picking his coat up off the ground and wrapping it around her before holding her close.

“Y’know you’re not exactly warm, right?”

Actually, he’d forgotten. But really, after snogging Rose Tyler he felt like he was on fire , so-

Oh. Right.

“C’mon, I know just the thing!” he told her with a grin, letting her go and then taking her hand to lead her back down from the roof. 

Soon enough they were back in the city square, where three gigantic bonfires had been lit, surrounded by many smaller fires. The entire area and surrounding blocks we covered in red, orange, and yellow paper lanterns in various star shapes. It was quite warm.

They made a beeline towards the closest big fire.

“This is more like it,” Rose smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek before leaning her head against his shoulder. “Is it just me, or is the fire … glittery?”

“Nope, not just you. They call it ‘bip powder’. It’s also what’s making it smell like incense right now, instead of your usual wood-burning-smell.”

“I like it. We should get some of that, too.”

“Could do. But when do we ever have fires?” He looked down at her, furrowing his brow.

“In the TARDIS library?” Rose reminded him, complete with telepathic images of his own ship.

“Ohhh the TARDIS wouldn’t want bip powder in her grates. It’s … messy … and- and … the smell reminds her of hippies. The TARDIS is not a fan. I was talking about fires outside of the TARDIS.”

Even as the words fell out of his gob, he knew that his bondmate wasn’t going to buy it. Of course not. And it wasn’t really lying, so much as saving face, but none of that could be accomplished with a permanent telepathic connection.

“Don’t need to be in your head to know you’re full of it,” Rose informed him with a light smack to his bottom. She was still smiling, though, and her mind felt calm and happy and warm next to his, so at least he hadn’t upset her.

I don’t think I want you touching my bum in public, he lightly scolded her telepathically.

Says the alien who spent most of the day trying to shove his tongue down my throat?

“I did not!” the Doctor exclaimed, offended.

“Whatever you say.” Rose rolled her eyes and then her attention was taken by the music starting up. It was whimsical and cheery, but with a steady drumbeat that could be felt through your feet. And all at once, everyone started dancing around the fires, the locals doing a specific number with some tourists trying to copy it while others just did their own thing.

She took both his hands and pulled him into the dance, quick to catch on to the different stomping patterns and waves of hands. He was happy to follow her lead. Happy to dance with her. Happy to make this day last as long as he possibly could. Against the background of the fire, Rose looked even more like a goddess.

Doesn’t have to end. We’re on our honeymoon.

Visions of hotel rooms and many things that distracted him from dancing, nearly causing him to trip, flashed across the bond.

“Right you are, Rose Tyler.”

This time he knew better than to interrupt the dancing, dragging her off to the next great idea. They didn’t stop dancing until they reached the furthest bonfire, having moved through the square in a winding line. The dance wasn’t over, would go well into the night, but Rose’s feet were beginning to tire after being on them all day.

So as much as he wanted to run to the nearest hotel, he didn’t. They walked slowly, and she drank the last of their water, listening to the music and watching the seemingly unending dance.

When they eventually found a hotel - the Doctor didn’t feel like stopping to ask for directions - the lobby was empty of other guests, only a lone receptionist sitting at the desk.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?”

“No, no reservation. We’d like to book a room.”

The receptionist blinked.

“I’m sorry sir, there’s no rooms available. We’ve been fully booked for the festival for years.”

“For years? Really? Suppose that makes sense. Do you know of anywhere else in the area-”

“Everyone’s been fully booked for years.”

The Doctor frowned, then had them check the database just in case he did have a reservation - sometimes time travel could get around these things, tiny circular paradox. But they didn’t. Not anywhere in the city.

“Would you like to book a room for the next festival?”

He was about to say no, but then Rose said, “We’d love to. Honeymoon suite, if you can.”

Once everything was settled, they were back on the streets, still hotel-room-less for the present.

“What good did that do us?” he asked. “We’ve a room, but not for 15 years.”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a time machine, and apparently countless other honeymoons to go on. Can do the festival again, and next time we play Jikltaii I can wear a wig.”

“I love you.”

She grinned and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, too.”

“Still, what do we do now?”

“May not have a hotel room, but we still have the TARDIS.”

“But that’s not honeymoon-y. That’s- that’s where we live.”

“I think we can still manage to make it honeymoon-y,” Rose smirked, as a bunch of very graphic scenarios filtered into his mind.

They ran back to the TARDIS.

They didn’t make it past the console room.

They didn’t even really make it out of their clothes.

[ralfstrashcan]

Fire Messages

A (long long long, let's not talk about it) while ago the dear @toughpaperround​ asked me about my thoughts on fire messages... and here they finally are.

Like most things in Shadowhunters fire messages come in two styles (other examples are portals, swords and runes) because at some point they experienced a random visual makeover. Both designs raise different questions and I'll get to those in a moment. First though it's interesting to note that the appearance of a fire message doesn't seem to depend on whether it's created by a shadowhunter or a warlock. On that note, are other downworlders able to create fire messages as well? Since shadowhunters operate them with their steles and warlocks with magic? I guess seelies should be able to as well since they also have magic (though they seem to prefere their nature-birds-leaves-whispering-on-the-wind way of communication). But what about vampires and werewolves? I don't recall either of thoses species ever sending a fire message on-screen, though it might have been mentioned at some point that one of them did, and I forgot. In any case I find it intriguing/ridiculous that fire messages look the same regardless of who creates them. Angelic energy and demonic magic don't really operate in similar ways so why would their fire messages look alike? Distinctive appearances like with the portals would make more sense.

Moving on to the first style! As far as I remember this style can only be spied once in the series, namely at the end of 1x06 when Izzy breaks things off with Meliorn

Which, now that I'm thinking about it, isn't that the shadow world equivalent of breaking up via text? Rude, Izzy. Anyway! The rune she draws at the bottom of the paper

is, as the trained eye immediately sees

Next, the paper goes up in flames

and Izzy lets go of it so she doesn't burn her fingers. Not a trace of the paper is left afterwards.

I think it's pretty safe to assume that the fire message burns into existence in midair wherever Meliorn is at this moment in time. Which... is probably the seelie realm? So can fire messages just travel between realms no big deal? Imagine the possibilities! Asmodeus could be bothering Magnus all day! Lilith could be terrorizing all Clave members via fire message harassment! This is hilarious XD

I have questions though! 1) How does the fire message know a) who the recipient is and b) where the recipient is? Canon never addresses or indicates either of those things so there's literally nothing to go off of. Re a): To me it seems most reasonable that the sender focuses on the person they want the message to receive while sending the message off via rune or magic. It's unlikely that writing the name on the paper alone determines the recipient because i) there exist people who share names and ii) you couldn't mention anyone in your fire message without accidentally cc-ing them, which, impractical and awkward. So intent seems the most plausible thing. Which in turn begs the question if you can mass-message people if you think of more than one person while sending? Probably not. In canon Magnus messages each warlock individually about that ritual he wants to try in 3x09. Might have been for courtesy's sake, so he can address every warlock individually with name but seems unlikely since he was under time pressure. Aside from that this would imply miraculous paper replication and physics says no. Re b): No way. This makes no sense whatsoever except when fire message magic is the ultimate omniscient might that can track anyone anytime anywhere. And if that power really existed in the world then how come no one has used it to currupt everything? Surely if you can access this pool of knowledge to send innocent little breakup messages you could find a way to use it for grand evil as well? I find it hard to believe that no one's tried and succeeded so far. Just look at how much effort shadowhunters put into tracking people all the time! They'd be stupid to waste their resources like that if there was a way to instantly-know the whereabouts of someone. Anyway, this is utter bs and just like the hp owls all over again and I simply refuse.

2) Who can you send fire messages to? My knee-jerk answer would be to anyone you know, both personally and more generally in the sense that you are aware of their existence. You focus on them while sending the message, bam, they get it. But. Spam. Spam is a thing. Do you have any idea how much hate mail and general pranks higher-ups would get if they could be (anonymously!) addressed by anyone? Magnus probably had a whole phase where he did nothing but trashtalk shadowhunters who pissed him off XD I read in this post (which is the one toughpaperround sent my way and which I'm kinda answering with this) the possibility that you can only fire message people you've either met in real life before or who you've established some kind of fire-messaging-you-is-okay-connection – kinda like exchanging phone numbers. Everyone has a phone but you can only call someone whose number you have. You can even hand-wave your way through issue b) and claim that the fire message tracks the recipient through that connection and that's how it can find them no matter where they are. I've thought about it for a while and while I think this is the most logical explanation I don't think it makes sense in-universe for how fire messages are used, or for what the purpose of a fire messages really is. Phones are inarguably more practical because you don't need an extra pen and paper to send off a message. So, why would someone use a fire message instead of a phone? Well, either the person you want to reach doesn't have a phone (*cough* Meliorn *cough*) or the message is so important and time-sensitive that you need the other person to know right now and while you can ignore a text or a call, you can lose your phone or it can die, it's kinda difficult to miss a burning piece of paper flying in your face. Fire messages are like extreme emergency phone calls. And for those it would be high-key impractical if you could only send them to someone you have already met previously. (Of course this is just speculation and doesn't even make sense historically since fire messages were around long before phones and likely were the only means of communication then and not just reserved for emergencies (or maybe they were since paper and ink was precious back then?!). And of course determining the nature of a thing by going 'It would be most practical if it was like this' is highly unscientific. Anyway.) Honestly, my personal take on this is still that you can send a fire message to anyone and the show simply ignoring everything that this implies (aka Alec getting at least 10 lewd fire messages per day from secret admirers) because it wasn't relevant to the plot.

Leaving behind questions that apply to fire messages generally this last one is design-specific. 3) To what exactly is the teleportation, that clearly happens here, limited? The paper, the ink. Uh-huh. What if you glue something to the paper? For example, idk, a GPS tracker? Would that allow you to learn the location of the person you messaged? Probably not, or they would have been very stupid not to do that with Valentine. Even if you could only message someone you have met in person and/or established a special fire message connection with there are still enough Circle members around in S1 who surely had his fire message phone number. (Or did he destroy the connection? Can you fire-message-block someone you no longer want any attachments to?) What happens if you fire message someone who's dead? Does the fire message hover over their grave for the rest of eternity? We'll never know. I'll allow that there is special fire message paper and special fire message ink that can teleport. Anything else tacked on would be left behind. Paper and ink could even be extra-charmed so they can pass through dimensions or whatever. Still sounds fake – because i) how would you spell paper so it can pass any ward (Magnus at some point messages Jem who's probably chilling in the Silent City or something) and ii) if there's a way to charm paper and ink so it can be teleported, why limit yourself to those? Why not put that same magic on your GPS tracker and you're ready to go? – but I tried okay. Whatever, special fire message paper and ink grow on special trees in Idris and their special teleportation magic can't be replicated. There, mystery solved.

The second style fire messages acquire is both more and less logically pleasing. It's more logically pleasing because it eliminates the whole teleportation issue since apparently the fire message just flies from sender to recipient but sadly this creates its own set of issues, first of all how tf does the fire message fly from sender to recipient? Does it have eyes? How does it navigate the streets by itself? What about the secrecy the shadow world allegedly tries to uphold? It also doesn't solve the GPS tracker problem (if anything it makes it worse) because who's stopping you from sending a nice little message to Valentine and then just, following the flying message to his secret hideout?

The journey itself isn't unproblematic either. How quick are those things flying? In 3x06 exactly 54 seconds pass between Magnus sending off his message to Jem and receiving an answer. So in less than a minute the message flew to Jem, he read it, he composed an answer, and it made the way back. No wonder these messages are burning at the edges if they're so quick. (Yes, that was sarcastic.) They also don't seem to slow down when approaching their intended target. Magnus even pushes Clary out of the way because of it.

This is so confusing. So the fire message can navigate through Magnus's apartment no problem but it would have chopped Clary's head off because she was in the way? Was Magnus just being dramatic? I mean I'd totally buy that on any given day, but the situation was a bit too serious for that especially because it isn't treated as a joke to lighten the mood but just like Magnus casually pulling Clary out of danger because that's what he always does. It makes no sense whatsoever. This also begs another question, since fire messages seem to seek out their target quite vehemently. If you're locked in an air-tight room, could you send a fire message to someone, and the fire message on its pursuit to fulfill its duty could help you create a crack in the walls? Could you actually break out via fire message? What if you grab the paper real tight? Could you fly out of a canyon on a fire message? Now, on to the last part of the fire message's journey: the landing. How. How do you catch something that moves so quickly instead of just swatting it away? In the post I mentioned before someone wrote that catching stuff like that works on auto pilot if you have the practice and I'll just take your word for it... but what if you don't have the practice? Personally I'm shit at catching shit. I'd get smacked in the face by 95% of the fire messages sent my way. And considering the speed and the sharp edges of the fire messages that can't be healthy. My poor face. Why do I say the fire message would slap my face and not docilely settle into my palm? Because that's what I honestly believe. I think if you fail to catch a fire message it just flops in your face and sticks there (that should also wake you up if you're asleep, lol) because I mean, look at those trajectories.

Mind that the fire message stays on its initial course even after Magnus / Alec / Izzy moves their hand to a position to catch it. That’s because it wasn't aiming for the hand. It was aiming for the face.

It only gets weirder from here on out.

Remember 3x07? Imogen gets stabbed by Possessed!Jace and uses her last moments to notify Alec of Jace's whereabouts (instead of, y'know, activating her healing rune which takes two seconds, sending the message after and keep on living. SIGH). Fair enough, but the thing is this

Where's the paper? Where's the ink?

What is happening? What is she doing there?!

And then-- and then--

Yeah Alec, I'm as shocked as you are. Where tf did that paper (and presumably ink for writing) come from?! Can shadowhunters suddenly create matter from nothing?? Physics is crying in the corner!! I have so many questions!!

[saikasae]

Hello!

So I wrote something. I have been keeping this to myself, for quite a long time. But now I finally dared to post it here. I'm an amateur writer. I don't have any other writing experience, so I don't know where to start. So if you read this please leave out a note or any advice you would give to me. It would help me make my craft better. So your free to do so.

I don't have a working title for this. And it's not really under any genre at the moment. I do have a rough plan of its initial direction and the remaining cast. It may change over time. I hope I can see still keep writing. I do what to finish something in my life and this is one of them. This has been my baby that supports me in my emotional turmoil and has been my coping outlet with all the bad things that recently gone my way.

You free to criticize my work. And your free to do so. It would help me out.

CHAPTER 1

" It was because of the young man's charms, that she fell in love and left her family to be with him"

The plummet street of Harth is buzzing with the sound of the wet market. Voice of merchants and buyers resonated with the dirty streets. Bargaining a purchase or sling a deal. It was filled with voices with wants and needs, in the intent for betterment at each end of their bargain. It was a small fishing town in the outmost corner of Ciel.

A group of children huddles closely, by the inside the unmoving traveling wagon. Tranted with generation years of use. And seemingly incapable of its initial usage. It shows poke and tears of the cloth encapsulation it's an inner cabin. And rotten, creaking wooden panels threatening to collapse beneath their feet.

Voice looms over the wooden carriage, each bringing voices of concern and question. Regarding the statement.

One voice looms above the rest, as it regarding its listener with their concern. A young girl who seems not to have reached the age of ten held the authority in the present discussion. Urging her listener, by constantly shushing. Ever relevant to children's insolence. As her listener, who are children, both boys and girls alike, no one older than herself, refuses to listen to that so-called held authority. It was with bickering calls and name-calling, ever-present in childhood brawls. That she finally regains the presence of her audience.

" Like is said SHUT UP-" the young girl places her hand in her lavish hair. Having trouble asses control over the situation. Dressed in a hand me down, thin cloth of baker flour sack, fashioned into clothing and a pair of mismatched shoes, a fortune as regards if you live in slums. Which most citizens are barefooted.

Elie has a face said to be suited of a low Nobel woman, praise in its self is a high worth. If she would maintain their Nobel's counterpart's hygiene. Most more likely containing a luxurious amount of soaps fashioned from animal fats. Essential perfumed oils from flower, within the part of their land, is rarely to be seen or ever smell one.

If she only would wear an elegantly woven dress, with intricately detailed and finely measured to the wearer's body, and in a possession of a precious plot of land embroidered with a few finely crafted jewelry, accessory toppled with color full weirdly shapes, expensive gems stone. She would at least look the part.

In which as the young maiden regarded is a merely a boastful fashioned of wealth. No more than an empty representation of their extravagant, crude lifestyle.

"The man is a Lord, I heard."

She and the other children in her care. Had never seen a lord before, or contemplate enough to imagine, what would one looked like. But in their imagination maybe sum up to a single image; a bloated, grotesque large body, always hungry individual, fashioned with the most expensive clothes and gems in the land. With twice expression for hungry. And pious like face.

In summary, a pig wearing expensive clothing.

Harth has never seen a Nobel- a Lord before, and never contemplated to house one. It was a suburban fishing village, relative close to the kingdom of Ciel in its outermost outskirts. Closes to Laurice's family's summer house. A house by which the Laurice king's as born. Centered by both powerful families. Neither one wants to own Harth. The remaining of the few villages were disregarded by the realm. Poor enough to be disregarded for the prosperity of the realm.

The young girl's thoughts stray away, it was immediately brought back, by the urgent sounds of discussion of her audience.

" That's not true! My mother said that the girl did-not fell in love with him. But-but she was taken by him" regarded by a skinny boy with the voice of a screeching mouse.

"Yes." another one regarded,

"He had taken her to be his wife. "

" And forcible bedded her." a roar of laughter came, mostly from the boys present in the group.

Their female counterparts sneer in dismay at the other's reaction. And the apparent figure who openly disapproves of this is Elie, the leader, a female herself.

Once again the wagon itself has filed with laughter, senseless chattering, and this time quite a lot of jumping. Which in the wagon current state could not handle.

"That's Enough-" Elie's shout was cut off by a soft but attractive voice.

"Enough." It says, in a certain firmness which one would stop if one would hear.

Timothy.

Timothy came in the parted drapes of the thin cloth. He fashioned himself to enter at the front side -where the horse and the couch man would be if this wagon is still in usage. He entered exactly by the place where Elie is standing, conducting this meeting. And by this time in had interrupted her talk more times than she can count. And she can count This is Harth- where counting is hailed more than reading and writing. Counting here means survival.

She stares at Timothy in disbelief, as the latter makes way, sitting next to her makeshift pedestal. Her audience stopped by the arrival of Timothy, quietly sitting down, as he made his way beside Elie.

" You can't just barge into someone like that," Elie said looking up, eyeing Timothy in a distasteful glare.

He had interrupted Elie many times before. He always did not listen when she asked him, and would not bother to announce the present to her. And would always barge in the middle of else's talk.

His voice always made her jump, and Elie is not pleased with that.

Despite having physic of a 19 or the age closer to that. Which Elie, had politely questioned him about his age. and got a reply of "Close to that." with a condescending tone.

Timothy is quite childish and lacks the manner of a proper in a coming adult must-have. Elie knows that they are nowhere close to a Nobel or are one themselves. But it is not an excuse for oneself to act not like one.

She was always taught not to talk back or cut someone off like that.

Barbaric is the only word she could describe him. Barbaric not in a context of looks but by his action. Timothy is quite handsome in looks for his warm eyes, and a kindred smiling face. He has a very dirty hair if Elie could comprehend, inward competing-winning to her sun-dried brunet locks. Elie's thought if he would keep clean enough would surely resemble the yellow color of that of corn.

For Timothy, eyes are another matter of warmth. Contrasting its actual vibrant blue color, which reminded Elie of the cool blue waves of Harth. Timothy is only one it these parts. He not like any adult she met. His nice, crude, and a little bit outspoken at times.

Elie constantly experienced being shout at. Which is a merchant village in itself, a manner which grown by the local for your voice to be heard, you have to shout. But he kept his voice level at all cost.

" Hahaha, The Maiden and The Lad. A rather old story. Told by different people and heard by different ears." he regarded them with his open smiling face.

The children listen intently to the voice of the young man. Who had the eyes of every person from the wagon and Elie herself?

"By that, had been interpreted differently by the people of themselves." He raised his hands in an open gesture.

"It may be a story of love by which the young maiden herself falls in, willingly to the man's soft graces," Timothy said putting little pressure in his tone.

" An act of heinous crime itself, having that maiden snacked away from her family, seemly of the young man." he paused " forcing himself on her despite not feeling the same way. "

"But the different versions tell the same story. The Maiden left her family to be with the young man whether it is voluntary or not. "

Silent grew awkwardly from the children.

It was Elie that spoke up.

"You mean, that her family could be lonely."," When left with him."

"Yes, her family is lonely.",

" It is the part where the songs have missed, Timothy said. " It lacks the chivalrous act, that one wants to be said in a song,

familial love is indeed rarely depicted for a song."

Especially the song, The maiden, and the lad

that focuses on telling a journey of maiden having left family volunteer or not, to be with a lad that lives in the secluded woods. It is a romantic song if Ellie could comprehend not a familial one. That is held only the thoughts about the maiden for the lad.

Another girl voice out.

" Do you -think they may come for the her-her family to come home."

Timothy smiled

"Possibly."

"Timothy." a voice shouted in the distancing. Timothy, it continued.

The kids went up and pried open the drop cloth to looked out the shouting man.

The man wearing clothes of high quality is relatively simple at first glance. But Upon closer inspection, it is the finely sewn laces, handcrafted meticulously to fit the wearers built. An aristocrat if Elie could comprehend.

It voices out Timothy's name with urgency, as his handsome features drip with sweat, straying hair frame his face possible for the fact that the man may have been looking for Timothy for a long time. Voicing out his voice without the intent of stopping.

" Hey, Timothy! Your man is calling you home." The wagon thunder with laughter yet again. Uncontainablehis time.

Timothy gave out a huge sigh and head out of the cabin.

Elie looked at Timothy's figure as he heads toward the man.

News of Timothy having got himself a Nobel is not new at all. Elie had perceived it at least, knowing Timothy and all.

He held himself different from the other young man she has seen here in Harth. Having held himself better than the women combined in this small fishing town.

One of the boys jumped up and down and said.

"Just when Timothy got to play with us."

" We can help it, you know that he rather busy."

"From running around and all."

"Why Timothy, why can you stay longer" a younger girl cried out.

"Shut it." Elie voice out with authority.

" One time -" the screeching voice spoke up and ignored Elie. "One time, my father got Timothy to help, moving out the fishes we just caught. Despite having worked hard the whole day without complaining. Three copper -my father gave him enough to last you three days of the meal. He gave it to me. All of it. Not a single one was taken. He says to kept it a secret between the both of us."

Woah. A loud appreciation poured out from the children. The discussion that they just held turned into an open forum, of Timothy's good deeds.

"I got one also, I was in the Forrest, there to picked up wood for the fire. When I lost my way, it was also beginning to darken - I'm mean. I was so scared thinking I was gonna die, there where he found me. And lead back to my home."

Another round of applause came.

Another spoke out.

" I was playing in the ditch when I fell and sprained my feet, and their right then Timothy appeared. He lends his back for me, offering a ride in his back. There he carried me back to where my brother was. He was so nice and smelled nice too!"

"Smell nice?" Elie questioned.

" Yes, I supposed like flowers" then the applause came.

Flowers. Elie never smelled one. And surely is the same for the children around her. She had seen one displayed in a glass container behind the counter of the store owner, meticulously guarded. It looks nice but expensive. Timothy must have gotten it from that man.

Elie has a story of her own of Timothy's heroic act. Which involves one of the pair of her which matched shoes.

Timothy is nice. But saying it often is not pleasing to her ears. The children got rowdier.

"That's right, Elie." the familiar voice said.

"Your mother is looking for". Timothy said peaking out his yellow head from the parted cloth.

"And don't worry, I will be back," he said addressing all the children in a wagon. And left.

The wagon was one again filed with cheers.

[mediaeval-muse]

Book Review

A Dangerous Invitation by Erica Monroe. Quillfire Publishing. 2013.

Rating: 2/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, The Rookery Rogues #1 of 4 (and a short story)

Summary:  She’s given up on love, and wants only independence… Torn from her life of privilege by her father’s death, Kate Morgan survives in London’s dark and depraved rookeries as a fence for stolen goods. The last man she ever expects, or wants, to be reunited with is her first love, who promised to cherish, honor and protect her, and instead fled amidst accusations of murder. He’s the reformed rake determined to win her back… One drunken night cost Daniel O’Reilly the woman he loved and the life he’d worked so hard to create. If he ever wants to reclaim that life–and Kate–he’ll not only have to prove he’s innocent of murder, but convince the pistol-wielding spitfire that he’s no longer the scoundrel he once was. Together, they’ll have to face a killer. Time is running out…

***Full review under the cut.***

Trigger Warnings: violence, sexual content, sexism, forced prostitution, rape, sexual assault, alcoholism, being buried alive

Overview: Another recommendation from the website Smart Bitches, Trashy Books. I decided to give this one a try because I’m a sucker for a spitfire heroine, murder plots, and the criminal underbelly of late Regency/pre-Victorian London. But while the previous recommendation was a hit, this one was somewhat of a miss. I think the bones of the story are good, as well as the character archetypes, but I wasn’t personally a fan of Monroe’s writing.

Writing: Monroe’s prose is fairly straightforward with some dramatic flairs here and there to heighten the emotion. It’s easy to read, and you can skim it quickly, if that’s your style. For me, however, it bordered a little too much on the melodramatic, and it became a bit repetitive when the same sentiments were evoked again and again. For example, we’re told a lot how much our heroine, Kate, can never trust a man again and that she can’t have a future with our hero, Daniel. After the first few times, I wished Monroe would move on to explore more complex emotions to develop her characters a little more. I also think the dialogue is a bit unrealistic, as characters tend to say exactly what’s bothering them or what deeper issues are plaguing them without much prompting, and real people don’t exactly talk that way. Some metaphors and choices of words were also a little awkward, which made for a confusing read at times.

By far, the biggest issue I had was the way Monroe handled the exposition and the details of her mystery. The action of the story starts out fairly quickly, which would have been fine except that I felt like I was being asked to care about characters’ histories without getting to know them first. Daniel runs into Kate after a long absence on page 2 of the first chapter of the novel, and I wish we were given a chapter where we saw Kate fencing some stolen goods or something else first to get us invested in her as a character. Also, because things happened so quickly, I felt like I was being told a lot of information rather than relevant details being shown to me organically. For example, a character might do or say something, then there’s be a kind of aside that explained the significance of the thing. Or Daniel would reference something about his quest to clear his name, then the author would take some time to tell us how he started his journey, how he knew people helping him, etc. As a result, there was a lot of setup jam-packed in the first few chapters, and I wish more had been done to create a flow that didn’t rely on duck info-dumping. Maybe if we had a chapter showing us Kate completing a sale (as I said) while Daniel is contacting his rogue friend, Atlas, who agrees to help him clear his name. Then the action between them could begin.

Plot: I love the idea of former lovers teaming up to solve a mystery, and at its heart, I think the premise of the plot was interesting. I did think, however, that some of the details and steps along the way weren’t handled as well as they could have been. There’s a lot of going to talk to witnesses or persons of interest, which makes for a lot of info-dumping, and there’s also some random chases which seemed to be inserted for the purposes of action rather than a logical unfolding of the mystery. During the first chase, for example, I was constantly wondering whether their pursuer was just a night watchmen or someone more nefarious. If the latter, how in the world would someone have known Daniel and Kate were snooping around the warehouses at night unless someone was following them? The thought that someone must know they are investigating the murder from the onset (and thus, know that Daniel is back in London) doesn’t really occur to the characters, which I found a bit frustrating.

Overall, I wished the events that made up the main narrative had been strung together more meaningfully. Every encounter that was related to solving the mystery had the potential for some interesting social commentary, and while it was gestured to, I ultimately felt that it was rushed. For example, there’s one scene in which Daniel and Kate go visit a prostitute, and Kate thinks a lot about how the girls are more than just objects and how women have to do what they can to survive. Soon after, she discloses her own rape after being tricked into prostitution. It seemed to me like the author was trying to cover a lot of things at once when the personal lives of the characters and the unfolding of the mystery could have revolved around one or two themes: the link between minorities and crime (due to poverty resulting from prejudice), for example, and the way gender also affects how women experience the criminal world. Or, given that the main undercurrent of the book is the existence of body snatching, every aspect of the story could be tied to the concept of “selling bodies” and disregard for the poor. If the bodies of the poor are being exploited to sell to medical facilities, that kind of matches up nicely with the idea of poor women “selling their bodies” via prostitution or Irish immigrants “selling their bodies” by becoming laborers. But alas, it seemed like the novel wasn’t quite interested in diving deep into those issues.

Characters: Our heroine, Kate, is a headstrong woman who has used her knowledge of her father’s shipping company to fence stolen goods following her family’s bankruptcy. I rather liked how her ruthlessness and street smarts were connected to this aspect of her life rather than the author throwing up her hands and just asserting that Kate was a badass. Kate was also pretty likable as a street-smart protagonist who knew how to navigate the criminal world of 19th century London. I liked watching her get out of tricky situations and disappear at opportune moments, and I especially liked that she had a practical, active role to play in the investigation. She’s enlisted for her quick mind and encyclopedic knowledge of her father’s company, and I found that enjoyable and well-done. However, she was a bit back-and-forth in her affections for Daniel. One minute, she’d be proudly declaring that they can’t be together and values her independence, and the next, she’d kiss him or let him touch her while thinking about how she wanted to be protected. While it was understandable, given her traumatic history on the streets, I did find it a bit frustrating, as a reader, because rather than there being some evolution or development to her character, Kate seemed to be on a more cyclical track.

Daniel, our hero, is an Irish immigrant who has returned from abroad after being accused of murder years before. I liked that Monroe set him up as a struggling former alcoholic and as having PTSD as a result of having found the murder victim before he died - it made it seem like reform was a continual process rather than a quick fix, and that men can be emotionally vulnerable in more ways than just being lovesick or abused. I didn’t quite see what Kate saw in him, however, as her main attraction to him seemed to be physical, especially when recounting their past. Why, for example, did she fall for him before the murder when she says she was concerned about his alcoholism? What drew her to him? I also think Daniel was written as a bit too jealous. He would hate a man he just met just because he potentially got to know Kate while Daniel was away. There was more than one time where his jealousy almost ruined his chances of clearing his name, which I found ridiculous.

The supporting characters were a bit of a mixed bag. I liked Kate’s barmaid friend, Jane, and Atlas, even though neither had quite enough “screen time” to be anything other than a convenient plot device. Other characters just outright got on my nerves with their general disregard for women. The villain, in particular, was poorly done in that he monologued a bit and sexually assaults our heroine for reasons that seem to just be “because I’m evil.” It made for a rather up-and-down reading experience.

Other: There were some interesting political aspects to this book in that many references were devoted to the mistreatment of Irish immigrants. There’s such potential there for a deeper exploration of prejudice and life as a “second class citizen,” including the brief references to Daniel’s code-switching (which was delightful) and his complicated feelings about being Irish but barely remember living in Ireland. I think, however, that a lot of the prejudice was left to stand on its own and generate some automatic sympathy for characters without actually thinking about how it could enhance the story. For example, are Irish people scapegoated for crime in Monroe’s world? How is the stereotype of the alcoholic Irishman subverted by Daniel’s struggle to be better or how does his past make us think more deeply about why people turn to drink (as opposed to judging everyone as uniformly “amoral”)? Just because the novel is a romance doesn’t mean that these issues can’t be explored (one has only to look to someone like Courtney Milan, who weaves social commentary into her romances brilliantly).

I also think more could have been done to enhance the romance itself. While I did like that Daniel was intent on proving himself to be a better man than he was when he left, I also didn’t think the romance was built on much other than their past and physical attraction. Daniel’s reasons for loving Kate seem to be that she anchors him, which is a bit selfish and frustrating, but he also admires her independence and intelligence, which prevented me from giving up on him entirely. That being said, their relationship doesn’t evolve as much as it’s cyclical. They fight a lot and Kate is constantly back-and-forth about whether or not she wants to be with him, so it felt like I was reading about the same issue over and over rather than seeing how trust was built between them. Daniel’s arc could have been more about accepting Kate for who she is now - not reminiscing about a past that couldn’t return - and Kate’s arc could have been about learning to trust again or valuing living people over the memory of her dead father. While Daniel’s acceptance of Kate’s past was well-done, I really wanted more insight as to how each person made the other’s lives better and more emotionally fulfilling, not just how they’re a good person for overlooking the other’s flaws or how the love interest “anchored” them or whatever. In fairness, Daniel does learn that he needs to “save himself” rather than rely on Kate to do it for him, but there was very little lead-up for him to get to that point.

Continuing with the Series? No.

Recommendations: I would recommend this book if you’re interested in historical romance (especially set in the 19th century), criminal underbelly of London, Irish heroes, reformed rakes, disinherited heroines, former lovers, and murder plots.

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 3 (Pt. 1)

Or: Mage Chat at The Club Diabolique

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Volume 1

This chapter features a scene most V:TM fans will be familiar with: important vampires meeting in a seedy nightclub to talk about vampire shit.

Thanks to some reckless driving, Dire McCann arrives at Club Diabolique’s front door at exactly midnight. We also learn that he has a late-model Chrysler, but since I’m not a car guy I don’t know if that means anything about him as a character.

Originally an abandoned warehouse, the building had been converted into a disco by several ambitious young capitalists ten years earlier.

There were still discos in 1984? Wait, when did Xanadu come out?

When that craze had died, so had the club. It passed through several hands and incarnations before being bought by the present owner, Oliver Pearson. After several months of extensive interior designing, the nightspot had reopened with a new name, The Club Diabolique, and a new attitude. Converted into a Gothic-Punk haven, with live music, a huge dance floor, and an exclusive “Members Only” upper level, the bar had quickly developed into the hottest place to be in town.

It wouldn’t be a Vampire: The Masquerade story without a shady nightclub in there somewhere. This one, despite its Gothic-Punk theme, has a mixed crowd of patrons. Most importantly are the vampires, as Alexander Vargoss holds court in that members only area, but obviously none of the mortals in the club know about them.

There were rich, middle-aged businessmen wearing expensive suits, accompanied by much younger women dressed to kill in skin-tight designer dresses and five-inch heels. Club Diabolique catered to mistresses and expensive ladies of the evening, not wives. Morals and inhibitions were checked at the door.

I have a hard time believing this club could remain the hottest nightspot in town for very long if they cater to creepy old stiffs cheating on their wives. It’d hurt the club’s image with the rebellious young goth generation the club’s theme is supposedly catering to. Speaking of, we of course have some goth kids. Most of page thirty-one is spent describing them.

They were punks with an attitude.

You can tell this was written in the 90′s because the word “attitude” here doesn’t really mean anything.

Generation X-ers without much money and without much hope, they felt cheated by a world spoiled by their elders.

The kind of subculture that doesn’t mind hanging out in the same club with creepy middle-aged businessmen and their mistresses, right?

This line could also be a good way to describe how many neonates, newly-Embraced vampires, might feel towards their sires and the older vampires. You can easily make a comparison between these fledgling vampires and the disaffected mortal youth they once were, and the connection could both say something about them and help them maintain their humanity when everything else about vampire life, nature, and society is pressuring them to be monsters. But Blood War is one of those V:TM stories that doesn’t focus on neonates.

Their quest for identity had led them down some strange paths.  Searching for meaning in a meaningless world, they turned to the 19th-century Gothic traditions for inspiration. Their look was a mix of black leather and Victorian finery.

A look that probably clashes with the “without much money” description. One disadvantage goths have when it comes to image, compared to punk and grunge, is that being able to afford their fancy outfits out them as suburban middle-class. There’s a whole paragraph describing their look, but I’m assuming you all know what goths look like.

McCann sympathized with the Goths. Most of them were bright, sensitive young men and women trying desperately to cope with a world of diminishing returns. Lonely and bored, they had created a whole new subculture based on a romanticized view of decadence and death.

After that “goths are punks with Attitude® “ line I was expecting the descriptions for goths to be Weinberg talking about how weird the youth of today is mixed with misconceptions like that they worship the devil or something. But this was pretty good. Their disaffection and feelings of hopelessness might be exaggerated, but that’s justified given the World of Darkness’s generally bleak setting. And there’s no mention of the music scene the subcuture came up around, but I don’t think McCann’s much of a modern music person, so it makes in-character sense. And if it’s not perfect, who are we to judge? How many of you on this hellhole of an internet know the goth subculture as anything other than a meme and a fetish?

The most relevant thing about the narration’s description of goths is their view on (the pop culture version of) vampires, and how that clashes with reality. It’s what you’d expect.

Many of them, not realizing the bitter truth behind the legends, fantasized about becoming vampires. Sometimes it happened, turning their dreams into nightmares.

[...]

Their view of the undead came from erotic novels and movies, not the Kindred. As he strolled past them, he uttered a silent prayer that they forever remain ignorant of the truth.

Aw, that’s sweet of McCann. Maybe under that master schemer detective persona beats the heart of a big old softie. Well, no, not at all, but despite being secretly really old he isn’t a dick about young people.

Club Diabolique has a doorman who’s described as “a giant of a man,” even compared to Dire McCann, who is merely big.

Dressed in undertaker’s garb, he exuded an air of restrained menace. This was Brutus, nicknamed the Arbitrator of Souls. In more mundane terms, the ex-wrestler worked as the doorman.

I wonder, does he have that nickname because goths are over-dramatic, or because vampires are over-dramatic?

Brutus is one of those unbribable club doormen who picked who can get in based on a certain criteria beyond “is the person old enough to be here” and “is this guy gonna start shit if he gets inside?” Thing is, no one knew how Brutus decided who gets in and why, and since he’s a huge scary motherfucker no one asks. Given some of the patrons, and the fact that Brutus is one of Vargoss’s ghouls, I’m guessing he judges based on who looks like they have the tastiest blood.

McCann doesn’t have to worry about Brutus, though, since they both know he has an appointment inside. There’s two paragraphs describing the club, but since the plot doesn’t spend any time here, just know that the music’s too loud to talk over and everyone’s there to dance, drink, and sin. And the band playing is called the Children of the Apocalypse, which McCann finds darkly amusing given the news he received last chapter.

Instead we’ll skip to upstairs, at the door to the member’s only area, guarded by a young “looks-eighteen-but-is-actually-a-hundred” vampire named “Fast Eddie” Sanchez, named so due to his skills with a knife. McCann asks him what’s up, and we learn that Vargoss’s guest is “some big shot Tremere sorcerer” and that “word on the street is that bad times are coming.” McCann says that it sound like a good reason for Eddie to keep his knives sharpened.

“I always keep my knives ready, McCann,” said Eddie, seriously, as the detective walked past him and into the next room.

You notice how that quote’s in italics? There’s several different instances in this chapter where lines are randomly written in italics and I have no idea why. The first thing I assumed is that it’s a subtle way of showing that a vampire is using a speech enhancing discipline, like maybe Eddie’s using a Presence power here to sound more intimidating? That’d explain lines of dialogue, but there are lines by the narration that’re randomly in italics too. You can see that here, since the description of McCann walking into the next room is also italicized along with the dialogue. I have no idea what the writer was doing here, and this is the only chapter where this happens.

McCann describes the members only vampire part of the club:

There were a dozen round cocktail tables scattered about the private chamber, with perhaps fifteen Kindred and twice that number of ghouls present. A small bar served whiskey for the ghouls and blood, both human and animal, for the Undead. Neonates, recently embraced vampires, worked as the waiters.

One criticism I’ve heard about the earlier versions of the Vampire: The Masquerade tabletop game is that players, despite being big tough vampires with cool powers, are usually railroaded into being neonates doing low-level schmuck work for the actually powerful Count Dracula level vampires, rarely in a position to do much politicking or even hunting. Superpowered errand boys instead of, you know, vampires. These poor waiters here reminded me of that, though in the tabletop’s defense I doubt you’re expected to work a minimum wage job instead of something more exciting and action packed. In the end, it depends on the storyteller. Also, as the book goes on, I think it unintentionally makes an argument for why campaigns about elders and methuselahs might not be the best idea.

To the rear of the room, on a small raised stage, an undead trio of jazz legends were playing some of their greatest hits for a small but appreciative crowd gathered nearby.

I hope those poor bastards aren’t Toreador, but given that they’re just playing their greatest hits about sixty years after their embrace...

Alexander Vargoss hated rock music and refused to have it in his domain.

Unlike McCann, Vargoss is not down with the youth of (about forty years ago up to) today and hates their “rock” “music.” I was also going to ask why Vargoss holds court in a room over a place he can’t stand, but I figure since he’s a Ventrue he’s compelled to follow the money regardless of where it leads. The member’s only area’s soundproofed, anyway.

They kept the noise outside, and, sometimes, held the screams inside. Humans other than McCann had entered the private chamber. But he was the only one who had ever left alive.

Kindred can drink from humans without killing them, so either the humans killed here are Masquerade threats being dealt with discreetly, Vargoss is a low Humanity bastard, or everyone in the club has bad luck with frenzy-stopping dice rolls.

A stunning redhead was singing with the band tonight. Wearing a green sequined dress that sharply delineated a near-perfect figure, she possessed a deep, syrupy voice that blended in perfect harmony with the three musicians.

Of course she’s hot.

McCann’s never seen the singer before, but she looks “vaguely familiar”, so he asks one of those vampire waiters who she is. Turns out she’s a ghoul belonging to a Toreador named Iverson, whose been visiting St. Louis on business for the last month and is sitting nearby watching her. We’re also reminded by the narration that Toreador are known for their “obsession with the arts.”

“He watches her real, real careful. Doesn’t like anyone else taking an interest in the lady. Can’t say I blame him. She’s good.”

“She’s terrific,” said McCann. “I’m surprised he’s left her mortal. Having her as his childe would really boost his prestige in the clan.”

“I think he’s worried she might lose her sultriness if Embraced,” replied the waiter.

See? Even the Toreador know their art sucks.

The waiter advises McCann to stop gawking and get over to Vargoss’s table. Vargoss is getting impatient and that flashy Around the World in Eighty Days style “arriving at your destination at the exact time” entrance only counts if you arrive in the exact room you’re supposed to meet in. So, somewhat unceremoniously given that this is the Prince of St. Louis, McCann walks over to Vargoss’s table, apologizes for being late, and that’s that. The Prince is there, sitting with his back against a brick wall because he’s paranoid about attacks from behind, along with his bodyguards, ~*~The Dark Angels~*~ Fawn and Flavia, at either side of him, and their guest, a little rat-faced Tremere wizard. We get more random italics.

“You delayed our conversation until this kine arrived?” the wizard snarled at Vargoss, making it quite clear he considered McCann a step below a monkey. The Tremere Clan were not noted for their social graces.

The Tremere guy’s an asshole. No surprise there.

Vargoss seems to ignore him and asks McCann what he thinks of the singer, who we learn is named Rachel Young, but his “icy tone” implies that the wizard’s bad manners have offended him as a host, and the wizard realizes this and shuts up. We also learn that a “closely trusted Tremere councilor” had tried to betray Vargoss a few months ago, but McCann uncovered the plot and stopped him, so Vargoss is especially pissed at he Tremere’s sudden dickishness and general presence.

After some banter about Rachel Young, during which she meets McCann’s gaze from the stage and smiles enigmatically at him, Vargoss chews the Tremere out, warning him to watch his manners or else. He also says that McCann is no ordinary human.

The Prince showing off his pet human, thought McCann sarcastically.

And now the random italics are showing up halfway through sentences. What’s with this? Was there no editor?

What makes McCann “no ordinary human” to Vargoss has nothing to do with his detective skills. Instead, McCann traces “a certain proscribed cabalistic phrase” on the table, presumably with his finger but I’m not ruling out a nearby spoon. The letters he made glow red for an instant before disappearing. It’s not very impressive given the vampire powers we’ll see elsewhere in the story, but it’s enough to prove that McCann is magic. And one of the biggest conversation derailers in the franchise.

“You’re a mage?” he whispered. “Of what tradition?”

“Euthanatos.” replied McCann, naming the infamous Death cult. Several of their number cooperated with the Kindred, lending credence to the detective’s lie.

Hoo boy, mages.

Mage: The Ascension is another game that’s part of the World of Darkness franchise. I can’t tell you much about it since I’d only ever been interested in V:TM. But from what I’d been able to understand from online chat, there’s one important thing to keep in mind when it comes to mages in relation to Vampire: The Masquerade.

You should NOT. TALK. ABOUT MAGES IN RELATION TO VAMPIRE: THE MASQUERADE.

Mages tend to be way, way more powerful than vampires thanks to having fantastic cosmic reality warping powers or some shit. They’ve also got technology. The Technocracy, which I’ve seen get brought up a lot, have orbital mirrors that can create sun-powered space lasers, and goddamn space travel. On top of the obvious power level arguments this’d cause, the nature of mages tend to lead to more “high-minded” concepts like the nature of reality and finding a way for all of humanity to “Ascend.” Compare that to the Kindred’s pettier goals like hiding their existence from the average mortal, manipulating each other, and seeking individual power. When there’re all these factions of magic mortals reshaping reality and burning things with sun lasers in space, it makes the Kindred and their petty earthly squabbles seem pretty damn stupid and unimportant.

So when you’re chatting about Vampire: The Masquerade, bring up mages at your own risk, unless you want to cause long derails about what the mages would do, how they could solve any big problem for vampires without even trying, why they wouldn’t get involved, how something contradicts the lore of one of the two franchises, why are the Antediluvians a threat in the first place when the Technolocracy can sun laser them from space (and they actually do this to one, read up on The Week of Nightmares), and of course, why someone’s pet vampire can totally beat a mage in a fight. And lore dumps. Pages of ‘em.

Hell, I’m derailing right now, and this post is long enough. Back to the story.

The rat-faced Tremere, shocked and more than little scared to have insulted a mage, apologizes, introduces himself as Tyrus Benedict, and assures that he meant no disrespect to McCann or his “order.” We also get this little bit.

Like most Kindred, he was extremely wary of mages. Those beings foolish enough to cross magicians usually ended up perishing in peculiar fashion. Including the Undead.

Also remember that the Tremere used to be mages, so that’s a another group of even more dangerous people who’d like to stick a foot up the Tremere’s asses.

McCann’s trying not to laugh at the easily fooled vampire. See, he’s lying about being Euthanatos. He isn’t even a mage. He just knows a few simple “parlor tricks” like creating glowing red runes with his finger/spoon to fool vamps like Vargoss and Benedict here into thinking he’s a mage.

The Kindred were masters of deceit and deception. Yet they much too easily accepted the unbelievable when confronted with the obvious. They saw complications where none existed. It was a basic character flaw that Dire McCann understood and exploited quite effectively. And had done so, in various guises, over the milennia.

So. He’s at least a thousand years old, but he’s mortal, not a Kindred. He knows some minor magic, but he’s not a mage...

Also, I’m not seeing how “I’m a Mage, I can do magic” is any more complicated than the truth here.

Vargoss and Benedict have some “blood cocktails” (the whiskey here’s too smooth for a big tough guy like Dire McCann, and the twins, edgelords that they are, prefer drinking from the source) and they finally get down to business. The Camarilla elders sent Tyrus to St. Louis to inform Vargoss of current events in the former Soviet Union. Why Vargoss is important enough to bother informing I don’t know, but McCann has to find out somehow, so here we are.

It all started about three years ago, a year before the prologue.

“...at the height of Boris Yeltsin’s unexpected rise to supreme authority in Moscow, all communications with the Kindred inside the former Soviet Union ceased. In the period of a few days, an Iron Curtain of silence descended across Russia. It was as if the Earth itself swallowed up our brethren.”

According to the wiki, this was called the Shadow Curtain.

The European Ventrue and Toreador clans sent some spies into Russia to find out what’s going on, but none returned. Vargoss doesn’t find this very mysterious.

Vargoss shrugged. “Obviously it was a Sabbat takeover. The Brujah elders in Moscow underestimated the discontent among their kine. Their puppet rulers spent too much money on weapons and not enough on food. Without a strong leader like Stalin to keep the commoners in line, discontent and anarchy flourished. The fall of the government, and the Brujah with it, was inevitable. No mystery there. We saw it take place on television.”

How topical for the early 90′s... I have some opinions about Vampire: The Masquerade’s use of historical and current events, and how vampires were involved with them, but that’ll wait until I get to a more offending example toward the end of the book.

Vargoss thinks that the Sabbat, experts at staging revolutions, caught the Brujah unaware and took over. Benedict says the Camarilla elders thought so too, but their spies within the Sabbat revealed that they lost a half dozen of their own people when the curtain fell. They sacrificed dozens of “packs” to break the “barrier of silence,” but they got nothing. Whatever’s causing the Shadow Curtain is stronger than both the Camarilla and the Sabbot. Vargoss asks what could be stronger than the Camarilla, and Benedict answers. Still in italics, of course.

“The Army of Night,’ said Tyrus Benedict, his voice rising in intensity. An unholy band of demonic Kindred belonging to no clan, they are allied with the forces of hell. The fiends belong to the brood of the most feared sorceress of all time—the Hag, Baba Yaga.”

No, not him.

“She awoke from torpor several years ago and has now reclaimed Russia as her own. Armageddon approaches. The Nictuku are rising!”

The legendary Baba Yaga’s a vampire in this setting, the one responsible for the Shadow Curtain, and yet another one of the Nictuku. When Benedict mentions Armageddon here, he doesn’t just mean because some old and cannabalistic methuselahs are waking up just to annoy them. The rising is said to be a sign that Gehenna, the end of the world for vampires and mankind, is starting.

Again, the Nictuku are 4th generation Nosferatu, completely loyal to their sire, the Antediluvian Absimiliard. And Absimiliard apparently hates his descendants, since he was a vain handsome bastard before Caine cursed him and the ugly little rat people living in the sewers remind him of his curse. It’s said that when the Nictuku rise, they’ll wipe out the later generations of Nosferatu, just as their sire wants. Except, funny enough, for Baba Yaga here. She’s apparently a rebel among the Nictuku, and is said to even be the direct vampiric ancestor of all modern Nosferatu, done just to piss Absimiliard off. Seems she just wants to gain power for herself, which is what she’s doing in Russia.

In short: If the Nictuku are rising, they’re probably going to do Absimiliard’s bidding. And if they’re rising, maybe Absimiliard is stirring too. And if he’s beginning to rise, so are the other Antediluvians. And if that’s happening, boom. Gehenna. Everyone’s fucked.

Going according to Camarilla policy, Vargoss angrily denies that the Nictuku (and what they represent, though that’s left unsaid) exist, that they’re just myths “invented by the Nosferatu elders to frighten their rebellious childer.” But turns out Benedict has photographic evidence. He hands over some photos, informing Vargoss that many bothans Tremere wizards met the Final Death getting them. The Sabbat and the rest of the Camarilla couldn’t figure out what was going on in Russia, but somehow the sneaky fuck blood magic clan managed to get pictures of the cause.

McCann doesn’t get to see them, and thus neither do we. But Vargoss tells us all we need to know.

Vargoss’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the photos. Raising up one particular picture, he showed it to Fawn and Flavia. “She has teeth of iron and six-inch claws,” he stated in hushed tones. “Just as the legends claim.”

It’s enough to shut down any more “Nictuku aren’t real” talk.

McCann, meanwhile, notices that Benedict hadn’t said anything since he revealed the photos, which, come on McCann, it’s not even been a minute. But this is supposed to hint that something’s off, because Benedict is staring at the stage with Young and the jazz trio. Who’ve stopped playing.

Suddenly, they hear Young scream.

McCann and the vamps at the table (except Benedict, the wimp) jump up and face the stage, forming a neat little group action pose that’d make for good promotion material if this were a visual media and not a book.

In one hand, he gripped his machine gun pistol, ready for action. At his side were the Dark Angels. Each of them held a pair of short swords they were capable of wielding with deadly efficiency. Right behind them stood Alexander Vargoss. The Prince of St. Louis was no coward.

Says the book after specifically describing him as standing behind the other three. But, alright, I know what Weinberg’s going for.

“Who in hell’s name is that?” whispered McCann ... “What in hell’s name is that?”

Time to meet the bad guy.

Tall and gaunt, a lone figure dominated the center of the chamber, a few feet in front of the stage. It had not been there a moment ago. Somehow, it had materialized out of thin air. That was what the Tremere wizard had seen. It was a magical feat that challenged even the most powerful of Kindred.

You sure he didn’t just reveal himself after deactivating Obfuscate? Or turn into an animal, sneak in, and change back at a dramatically appropriate time? Or-

The newcomer wore a single garment consisting of a ripped and tattered shroud held tightly in place about his body with moldering white bandages. His chalk-white face was that of a long dead corpse. Ancient, decaying skin stretched tightly across a hairless skull. Paper-thin lips, a beak-like nose, and hollow, gaunt cheeks combined in a look of utter malevolence. Huge unblinking eyes, like the black pits of hell, took in all those in the chamber.

A creature of blacks and whites, streaks of brilliant crimson marked his face, his hands, and his arms. Hands and fingers glowed ghostly red. The bright scarlet of fresh blood. There was no question in McCann’s mind that here stood the Red Death.

And his body seems to be generating great heat, and not in the fun wrestling terminology kind of way.

The floor surrounding the walking corpse sizzled. The vinyl bubbled like lava beneath the creature’s feet. Waves of superheated air rose around the figure, giving it an eerie, unearthly vagueness. The Red Death blazed, but did not burn.

Fire’s a fatal weakness for vampires, and that presumably goes for heat so intense it should make things burst into flame too. If you’re playing the tabletop game, you gotta roll to see if your character will freak out and run from fire or not. So this corpse-looking guy generating heat that can melt the floor with no harm to himself is a big deal. Benedict and McCann hype him up a bit more for good measure.

“In three hundred years I have never seen its like,’ muttered Benedict, still seated. ‘How can such a monster exist?”

McCann wondered the same thing. And he based his observation on a much greater span of time.

Vargoss speaks up, trying to live up to that “no coward” description from earlier.

“Who are you?” The Prince’s voice rang like a bell through the silent chamber. “And how dare you violate the traditions and enter my domain without permission?”

“This is how you face the devil straight up, McCann, you wuss.”

The figure raised its head until its eyes glared directly at Vargoss. “I am the Red Death,” the monster declared in slow, deliberate tones. “I go where I want. Your petty territorial claims mean nothing to me. My will is the only law.”

We’ll stop here for now, with McCann and the vampires about to take on the titular Red Death. He acts tough and yeah, he made quite an entrance, but in the end, who knows? Maybe McCann and the vamps’ll do alright.

[hufflepuff-ravenclaw-reviews]

Proven Innocent Season 1 Episode 8

Trigger warning: This issue deals with trans issues, transphobia, and homophobia, as well as historical GLBT+ issues.

We kick this episode off with Madeline and Bodie walking down a street in the gay district. Bodie calls out to tell a couple of drag queens that they look fabulous, and they instantly recognize Madeline. She's apparently some sort of GLBT+ icon in the community, and when she was released from jail, they all had a party in her honor.

Madeline asks for directions from them, and Madeline and Bodie continue on to their destination... after Madeline stops to take a selfie with them.

They go to a law firm, where a man tells them about his trans client who was convicted of having killed another trans woman in the 80's. The jail doesn't want to provide her with hormone treatments anymore, and during the fight to get that back for her, the lawyer discovered that the amount of hormones in the blood found at the crime scene (that had originally put her in jail) didn't match from somebody who'd been on treatments for the past decade.

Easy and Madeline go talk to the lady in prison, but she doesn't exactly want to get out. She says that all of her friends and family are dead now. She then states a statistic that 40% of the trans community ends up dead by either violence or suicide, which is the highest out of any community out there. (And nobody would sit back and let this happen if it was literally any other group.) She only just wants her medications.

Meanwhile, Violet has her own subplot this episode. She brings over some podcast host from some other podcast, and they talk about making podcasts. He's actually a big fan of her podcast. After doing the recording, he invites her to dinner.

She goes thinking that it's a date, but it turns out that it's a job offer instead. He wants her to do this big new podcast... but it would be a full-time job, and she'd need to move to New York. He urges her to think about it.

He comes back to her at the end of the episode, but she says that she's already living her dream working for the law firm in Chicago. She might not actually be a laywer, but she's one of the people who helps find the important information that brings the actual criminals to justice and frees the wrongfully convicted. He kind of implies that she's making a mistake and leaves. Bodie then comes in to cheer her up, and says that she wouldn't have Bodie in New York. (And I'm not sure if I ship this or not?)

And now for the Bellow's/Levi/Isabel subplot: Bellows contemplates the new campaign signs that were printed up. The one with him standing before Lady Liberty gets him and his new campaign manager talking about Madeline Scott. And oh my god, why is everybody so fucking obsessed with Madeline? The manager implies that Bellows should look for new evidence in the Scott case that would put Madeline away for good, so that she'd stop being a thorn in his side.

He later calls Isabel into his office and asks what she's learned about Levi. She admits that Levi kind of keeps to himself in meetings, but she'll see what she can do about getting more information from him.

Later, she's crying in the empty meeting room when Levi comes in. He obviously asks her what's wrong, and she spins some sob story about how everything just feels so... sad. He offers to make her less sad. Which ends up with them at a bar. Isabel goes out of her way to get him drunk, and he eventually tells her something that he probably shouldn't have: that before Rosemary's body was found, but everybody was looking for her, Madeline just kind of stood there and did nothing. He described her as acting “stoned”.

Isabel obviously reports this to Bellows. Bellows is pleased with this information, because it implies that Madeline might have been the one to actually have killed Rosemary. (The previous theory was that Levi had killed Rosemary while Madeline helped her brother during or after the fact.) Although, at the same time... just because he has a new theory doesn't mean that this is enough evidence to reopen the actual case. Furthermore, Madeline's complete lack of action does not make her guilty. (This is going back to a previous episode about 911 tapes; you sound too hysterical and the jury hates you. You don't sound emotional enough and the jury hates you.)

This'll probably be relevant in future episodes, but this is the Bellow's subplot for now.

Anyway, back to the main case. Easy and Madeline talk about their latest client, and the fact that she's refusing their legal help. And it's not that they think that she's innocent... it's just that they can't do anything unless she gives them the okay. Madeline eventually says that they need to give their client hope. But they need to do a bit more digging into this, too.

They go to a gay bar that was open back when the murder took place, and the bar tender happened to have known both ladies. He talks briefly about the exclusion from safe places that the GLBT+ crowd faced from the 80s and earlier, and insists that the bar was inclusive towards everybody, even trans people. (It wasn't usually the case back then, unfortunately.) He goes on to say that a lot of openly trans/cross-dressing people would be picked up by the police simply because they looked like they were prostitutes. As you might imagine, this happened a lot to the victim. However, he also mentions that the victim was attacked on a couple different times by various closeted men who wanted to be with her. So there's another possible story of what happened right there.

They go back to speak with their client. Madeline gives her usual grand speech about wanting to help people like she herself was helped out of jail. The client agrees that she'd like to be out of jail.

They go to court to have the verdict put aside because of the new evidence about the client's blood. However, since the blood sample is long gone by now, the judge denies this, but lets them have the records from the original case. Which the judge points out was likely Madeline's plan all along.

However, rather than to just give them their client's case work, they give like all of the case work. From like that year. But this leads them to discover that another trans woman was arrested at the same time and place and by the same officer as their client.

Bodie is able to track this woman down to being the current owner of a drag queen bar. So they all go there, where we're subjected to a queen putting on a show for an ungodly amount of time. (And I'm not saying that she wasn't great, but let's get back to the actual plot now, shall we? Time and place, man. Time and place.)

They find the owner, and the lady who was also arrested at the same time. She says that a lot of “non-passing” trans folk couldn't get jobs in the clubs, so they often had to turn to the streets to make a living. The victim had a lot of sugar daddies, and had just broken up with one a short time before her murder. She gives them the guy's name.

As they're leaving the area, Bodie is wearing a rainbow feather boa and loudly singing with Violet. (And to be fair, some of the things he does kind of makes him a little bit odd to begin with.) Some guys drive by, and attack Bodie. The police show up, but it's painfully obvious that they don't give a flying shit about anything that happens in this neighborhood... if you catch my drift. Easy is angry because the police are refusing to do literally anything, and then they get angry with HIM just for trying to stand up for Bodie.

Madeline first tries calling the guy at his work, but he quickly tells her not to contact him again about that, and hangs up. She and Easy then go down to his office to talk to him. He's angry and upset over the entire thing, and is also worried about being outed. Especially to his children and grandchildren. He tells them that his wife died of cancer two years earlier. (This is mildly important for later.) He eventually tells them that he was in New York the night of her murder, and that he was the one who'd done the breaking up with, not the other way around. Easy seems to think that he's lying.

However, the guy sends his credit card statements from nearly 40 years ago, and it proves that he did buy a plane ticket. But there's a window of opportunity where he could have killed the victim and still gotten onto the plane. But then they also notice a hospital bill from two days after the murder... he could have hurt himself when he'd killed the victim, and then went to the hospital when his wound didn't heal.

And finally... Bodie then provides old newspaper articles from the gay bartender which directly contradicts his earlier statements about his bar being 100% inclusive to EVERYBODY in the GLBT+ community. So he's also now a suspect.

When the judge refuses to give them a warrant to look at the medical records, they instead go talk to the bar owner instead. He gives some awfully shitty excuse of “that's just how things were back then. We didn't want to be under the suspicion from the police.” Although he did have a friendly relationship with the victim, (the kids these days would call them “Frenemies”), but said that she was his “sister in arms”, and that he would never kill her. Easy believes the guy, which puts them back at needing to look at the sugar daddy's medical records. Violet then offers up an idea, but refuses to tell them since it's less than legal. Madeline and Easy pretend like they didn't hear her say that and leave.

Violet then goes to the hospital in question with a warrant, but says that it's for John Smith, but the warrant is actually for Jane Doe. She then bribes the clerk with coffee and a doughnut in exchange for him getting the records. But by mistake, he brings out the guy's wife's medical records, since they had the same first initial. Buuuuttt...

They all go back to court, where Madeline questions the sugar daddy. He refuses to talk about his relationship with the victim. Madeline asks what blood type he is, but it's not the same that's found at the scene. However, Madeline asks what blood type his wife had, but he honestly didn't know. It's the same as that found at the scene.

Madeline prompts him if his wife killed the victim. He eventually answers that he came back from New York to find his wife covered in the victim's blood. She'd found out about her husband's affair, somehow or another tracked the poor lady down, and attacked her.

With this new information, the judge instantly says that the client is free to go, because she's innocent.

Sometime later, Madeline visits her former flame in prison. They make out for a while, which is only possible because the girlfriend does things to keep the guards off her back. However, she mentions that there's a good chance she could be paroled soon. Madeline is obviously happy for her, but the girlfriend, not so much. She asks Madeline if Madeline could really see them being together on the outside, doing normal couple stuff like going home for family dinners and hanging out with Madeline's friends. Madeline says yes, but the girlfriend is still apprehensive.

Later, everybody gathers at the gay bar to celebrate the client's freedom. However, she mainly just sits at the bar and looks at the wall of historical GLBT+ photos... especially the one of the victim, her friend. The bartender tells her that everything is going to be okay.

Madeline steps outside to call her mom. She then says that she's bisexual and that she's dating a girl. The mother hesitates for a  moment, before asking when Madeline is going to bring her around to meet the family. Madeline then drops an even bigger bombshell and says that her girlfriend is in prison. Which is way more upsetting, for some reason. (Ah yes, the shitty parents who like to desperate pretend like their children weren't in jail for 10 years...)

The episode ends with a short montage of footage of GLBT+ protests, both past and present.

[douxreviews]

American Gods - ‘Head Full of Snow’ Review

"You believe in nothing, so you have nothing."

American Gods goes on a bank heist, in an episode that neatly balances touching sidebar stories with Shadow finally getting some empowerment, both figuratively and literally. Maybe.

The more you dig into an episode of American Gods, the more impressive it becomes just how densely layered the whole thing is. How exactly would one quickly describe this episode? Is it 'The One Where Mr. Wednesday and Shadow Rob a Bank?' Is it 'The One That Separately Introduces Salim and Anubis?' Or maybe 'The One Where Shadow (Possibly) Gets Superpowers'? The answer of course is, 'yes'. It's all of those, deftly interwoven with a number of thoughtful pauses where we contemplate the cultural meaning of Jesus(es), get a glimpse of the afterlife, and discover that Mad Sweeney should keep a better eye on his things.

That's a lot going on, and yet somehow the episode doesn't feel overcrowded, which is as neat a trick as Mr. Wednesday has ever pulled.

So, let's pull it a part a little bit and see how the pieces work. To begin with, we start where we ended last week, with Shadow having lost his head, literally, in a checkers match. Since the beginning of the series Shadow has been a victim of the various forces around him that are influencing his life, and has only been able to roll with the punches as they come at him. But that all changes in the opening sequences here through his dream encounter on the roof with Zorya Polunochnaya, the Midnight Star. Neil Gaiman has always written dream dialogue well, no pun intended, and most of the conversation they have here is lifted directly from the book to great effect. One of the most necessary skills for anyone adapting a written text into visual media is knowing what they need to change to make it work and what they should leave unchanged. Fuller, Green and company made the right call in this case.

The midnight star, a virgin as she herself points out, is about rebirth and renewal, and in that spirit she absolutely gives Shadow the fresh re-start he needs. After this he's able to outwit Czernobog by playing on his vanity and his fear of growing weak into playing a second game of checkers and beats him. Czernobog still gets to bash in his brain with his hammer, but not until after Czernobog comes along with them on Mr. Wednesday's journey. So, there's that hanging over our heads until later on in the story, then.

This metaphorical empowerment then gets a little more literal when Mr. Wednesday repeatedly urges Shadow to make it snow by thinking about snow, and then it snows. Metaphorically, structurally, and possibly literally, Shadow is learning how to affect the world around him, and there's something more than a little insidious about how Wednesday seems to be manipulating things around them to make it happen. It was nice though that both the show and Wednesday chose to leave it an open question as to whether Shadow had really made the snow or whether is was a coincidence. It's about your personal choice as to what you believe, both of them seem to be saying, and as Wednesday explicitly points out, 'First you don't believe and then you do believe, and the world changes because you do.' It's admittedly a little precious as ruminations on belief go, but the show is really drilling down into the way belief affects the shape of the world, so it works in this case. Let's just all agree not to push things by cross stitching it on a pillow.

As for the bank robbery itself, well, robbery is probably a bit of an overstatement. Although I'm sure that would technically by the charge were they arrested for it. Realistically, it's more a case of conning people out of their overnight deposits when they come to put them in the ATM. The sequence works for what it's setting out to do for a couple of reasons. First, it demonstrates that Mr. Wednesday really is a devious and manipulative con artist who's good at playing people. Second, and more surprisingly, it shows us just how smoothly and easily Shadow can roll with a situation and con people himself. What it doesn't do however is show us a way of feasibly robbing a bank, as the plan we see wouldn't have worked, even at the time of the book being published, for three major reasons. 1: Night deposits in bags like that don't go in ATMs, they go in night deposit drop slots. Or they did at the time, I confess to having been out of retail for a long time, but I think that's still the same situation. 2: Even when closed, banks have security guards, particularly a bank in Chicago on a busy street like that. At the very least they would have video monitoring that would have investigated the guy sitting in front of their ATM. 3: Most importantly, in that situation the police would call the bank, not the number on a business card they were handed by the man they were suspicious of. I'm just saying; good scene for the purposes of plot and drama, bad scene if you're trying to teach yourself how to rob banks.

We hadn't seen Mad Sweeney since the first episode, and it turns out the reason why is that he's been passed out in a public toilet all this time. We've all been there. What's more interesting is that we gradually learn that his luck appears to have left him with the gold coin he gave Shadow back in that episode. His escalating bad luck while he works that out is pretty amusing, but it's hard not to feel a little bad for guest star Scott Thompson, who takes a pipe first through his windshield and then his face solely for having tried to help out someone staggering down the road. And for a guy with that much bad luck, Sweeney certainly puts on some miles here. He starts at the Crocodile bar somewhere in Missouri-ish, gets to Chicago to find Shadow, and then has to get all the way back to Indiana. That's a lot of travel for a guy who seems to be doing most of it on foot. Did he leave behind a trail of Scott Thompson's, all ghoulishly killed in one manner of bad luck traffic accident or another?

Then we have the Somewhere in America sequences, both of which are beautiful in their own way. Mrs. Fadil, dying alone only to have Anubis stop by and kindly taste her dinner before escorting her to a gorgeously filmed afterlife was just lovely. But the longer sequence of Salim, the lonely salesman and an equally lonely Jinn who unexpectedly find a loving connection to one another was one of the most profoundly moving love stories I've ever seen in film or television. Also, wow that was a lot of graphic sex. I appreciated that the way it was filmed was neither exploitative nor apologetic about it being a same sex couple. The beauty of the interactions between Sadim and the Jinn, two beings so lonely that they've given up on even the concept of finding a connection or love, can be summed up in one exchange:

Sadim: "I wish you could see what I see." Jinn: "I do not grant wishes." Sadim: "But you do."

Just beautiful.

Quotes:

Anubis: "Your Assaf will marry in a year and name his daughter for you." Mrs. Fadil: "A Bullshit middle name?" Anubis: "A bullshit middle name."

Zorya Polunochnaya: "Kissing is disgusting, but it a nice way. Like Blue Cheese, or Brandy."

Czernobog: "All right, I’ll go with Wotan to his Wisconsin. Then I’m gonna kill you. Is good?" Shadow: "Is good."

Shadow: "Storm died." Wednesday: "No it hasn’t. We’re gonna rob a bank. Want some coffee?"

Jinn: "You try and sell shit?" Salesman: "I sell Shit yes." Jinn: "And they will not buy it?" Salesman: "No." Jinn: "Strange. Cause when you look in the stores here, that’s all they sell."

Jinn: "They know nothing about my people here. They think all we do is grant wishes. If I could grant a wish, do you think I’d be driving a cab?"

Wednesday: "Come on, learn. It’ll be fun."

Bits and Pieces:

-- If you are reading this later on, or are not from the Midwest, we just spent a week at thirty below zero. Before the windchill. This was not a great week to think 'snow'.

-- I'm not very clear whether Mrs. Fadil's skinless cat was actually Bast, or if Bast is just part of all cats and so that's why the cat got to go with to the afterlife's foyer.

-- Lots of climbing up balconies this week.

-- Zorya Polunochnaya is entirely a creation of Neil Gaiman's. I'm fairly certain she's the only instance of that in the entire book, but I might be wrong. Feel free to correct me in the comments if so, it's the only way I'll learn.

-- When Zorya P. referred to the constellation as 'Odin's Wain', I misheard it as 'Odin's Wang.' That's a very different constellation.

-- I could watch Ian McShane seduce Cloris Leachman all day. Now there's a sentence I didn't expect to be typing today.

-- I have a great anecdote about Scott Thompson, but it's not relevant to the show, so I'll throw it in the comments if anyone's interested.

-- Despite the fact that Mr. Wednesday uses them interchangeably, hot chocolate and hot cocoa are categorically not the exact same thing. This is important.

-- What was the deal with the wolf they almost hit?

-- So apparently the inference is that Mad Sweeney's lucky coin brought Laura back to life, and that's how she ended up in Shadow's motel room at the end. The bigger question to me is how did she get out of her grave without disturbing the ground? And is that the most poorly monitored cemetery in the world, or what?

-- No sign this week of Media, Technical Boy, or Bilquis. Also, three episodes in and still no sign of Crispin Glover's Mr. World

-- This week's amusing behind the scenes story; Both the actor who plays Salim and the actor who plays the Jinn are heterosexual.  As, apparently, was all of the film crew in the unit that recorded their love scene.  This, the legend goes, led to Bryan Fuller receiving the rushes for their love scene and having to tell everyone involved, 'Yeah... That's not how that works...'  After which they had to stage a remount.  That last part was not intended to be a joke, but I can't bring myself to erase it.  Let's all just be adults and move on.

A solid episode with a lot of good stuff in it, but it still suffers a bit from feeling like it's all setup for more important stuff later on.

Three out of four ATM deposits

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.