#does not matter if youre an authority figure or a literal threat to his life. he will destroy in a way that is unfairly accurate

[dezwade]

not giving Douglas & Leo more plotlines together was a missed opportunity because "pathetic man who is frequently bullied by children" and "teenage boy who is mean (endearing) to everyone" is such a fun dynamic

[greatshell-rider]

BITING !

i understand why cj was angry at senrid for not wanting to be late to the execution, cuz she’s in a mild state of panic from the stress of being a spy and having to attend an execution of her friends intended for punishment/presentation, and so interpreted that haste as desire to go and watch kids get shot in the head, but GIRL. girl! senrid’s “boring on about local politics and power” earlier included that very blunt admission of “i would rather execute my uncle than these two kids i met a month ago and a random mid guard”! !!!! he straight-up told you he has no authority to stop the execution and hates to go to it, but he has to. the execution is because of senrid, it’s for senrid, it’s a lesson to punish him. he HAS to go. he canNOT be late. or else more people if not himself will die in tdanerend’s paranoid squeezing grasp for power

and despite that, the very real threat to senrid’s life and autonomy, he still decides he has to do something. he’ll “try to pull rank” to test what he can get away with, what meager amounts of authority he can wield, which he does by stopping tdanerend from ordering 713′s coat be taken off. i think his wording and presentation is very precise:

“I said Faline could have it. I take responsibility—but we’ll deal with it later. Let the execution go on. No more delays,” Senrid said grimly. He spoke without looking at any of us, only at the scene straight ahead.

short sentences. uses “i” and “we”, no mention of the guards that were involved - no excuses, no placement of blame elsewhere. “we” is only used for dealing with the matter later, implying tdanerend has no say right now. he speaks grimly, not letting this be a flippant or idle matter but showing the weight/solemnity deserving of a public state-sponsored execution, showing he, senrid, takes these people’s lives seriously, even if tdanerend does not. indeed, there’s a subtle criticism of the execution itself and tdanerend himself in “no more delays” - senrid doesn’t approve of 713 having been tortured, and sees removing his coat as yet another extension of a cruel and unnecessary event, which is dishonorable. (this attitude is an echo from centuries earlier when hawkeye yvana-vayir could not handle the thought of being sentenced to a traitor’s death by flogging, would’ve gotten himself killed before he let that happen, had nightmares about it afterwards!) it’s from this that we can tell senrid’s command isn’t just to stop his uncle, but is also a message to the guards around him. solidarity! showing sympathy/mercy to 713 appeals to the other guards who’ve gone through the same training and served in the same posts as 713. even despite senrid not having gone through the academy, he’s closer to the guards than tdanerend is to them

a minuscule “pulling rank”, literally the barest minimum senrid could do, as he doesn’t try to stop the execution itself. but it’s laying down the foundations of solidarity and trust among senrid and the guards. winnowing a thread of respect, tugging a bit of power away from his uncle. and even that small amount . . . it’s impressive imo. senrid grew up in an abusive home, which yknow does shit things to your mental health and confidence, and at this point we have several examples of the ways tdanerend controls senrid and prevents him from learning statecraft/fulfilling his role as king. no academy, no handling politics and legislature, dictating his schedule, deciding on the executions, etc. etc. however! we also have so many examples of all the ways senrid subverts tdanerend’s control. he successfully lies to his uncle and makes him think senrid’s ideas are his own, he wakes up earlier to train in drills and get his magic tasks out of the way, he outpaces him in learning magic, etc! and even though senrid doesn’t think much of himself, he is actually very good at shit. he said that in speaking to 713 for even just a few hours, he figured out 713 should’ve become a groom in the stables rather than be forced as a foot soldier because of his size. from a couple hours going through tdanerend’s papers, he found evidence of corruption lmao! he’s good at reading people and seeing their strengths and weaknesses, he’s got the analytical and statistical brain for seeing corruption in written reports, he knows how to appeal to the guards through notions of honor and common ground. despite everything tdanerend has tried to keep senrid down, senrid’s come right back up. senrid’s taken his teachings and done a 180. tdanerend has fucked himself over in accidentally creating an opponent perfectly positioned to take him down. this is just the beginning. senrid’s gonna getcha, old man. get fucked

[femininetea]

"Always expecting betrayal... But never from you"

The general who became a father to his soldier (spoilers for rwby v8 ch13)

Personal impressions:

I was so mad last week, thinking IW would have been defeated already/too soon but they tricked us. And I'm so glad it's a Winter vs. Ironwood fight. And the emotions.... I can't.

He was her father figure and I'm sure it was viewed like that from both sides. We were clearly shown what IW would do if anyone was in his way. Even when she disobeyed he didn't shoot her. He trusted her until the last moment.... We saw him get mad, break down and hopeless. But never cry. It's not just any soldier he's fighting. He's fighting his right hand. Winter Schnee, someone who was like a daughter to him.

But let's get to their actual relationship.

An essay on Winter in RWBY is planned btw.

Winter seems to have the highest rank in the military next to Ironwood, which is impressive for her age and shows her determination but also how IW believes in her

In V4 Jacques claimed that IW "stole his daughter" and IW hinted at that they often had this conversation

In V7 Jacques asked IW if Winter knew that Weiss returned to Atlas

From the point of V2 and V3 it seems that Winter still had contact to Jacques but not as much anymore in V7, something happened and I think because of the dust embargo IW and Jacques had their confrontation and Winter obviously chose IW's side and detached from her father completely

(It was always hinted (and I think even stated in the remnant guide book) that Winter protected her siblings and had to take the most abuse. And you can clearly see that by her type of fight or flight trauma and how she's literally supposed to represent the ice queen with her hidden emotions and stuff

You see her in that state of shock, fear, panic, trauma etc. when she realizes that she failed Ironwood. He was proud of her for catching Yang, Ren and Jaune and put his hand on her since they would be useful. Harriet then told him and I think this represents how someone like IW would be able to hurt her that much emotionally since he is in the position of an authority and a father figure to her)

Also he was ready to shoot his people at any time like the council man or Marrow but he didn't shoot her and allowed her to stay by her side

That and how she defends IW most of the time show how she trusts her judgment, IW trusts her judgement as well as seen in V4 when he told Jacques that Winter told him that there was a threat in Mistral

In World of Remnant we see IW walking past soldiers and Winter standing out. It was about the technical grooming of atlas students to join the military but you can tell from what we know of Ironwood, that he has a good heart (eruption fang made a vid on that recently)

When Winter told Weiss that "the general would have a place for you" She said it with such happiness, atlas and the military was winter's new home and IW gave her the chance to repurpose her life

She even defended IW in front of Jacques, her biological father and she takes great personal offense when his judgement is mistreated. Even when Weiss talked about trust Winter said that he would never hide anything from her

The offer with the Winter Maiden... You could say that he did this to control her and I'd accept your opinion... But there's one thing that makes me think that he still obviously also cared for her. Over the years he knew how much the military meant to her. She even told Penny that her life doesnt matter and only her job does. It means everything to her and like Winter said herself, she saw the Maiden powers as a privilege and it makes me feel like Ironwood saw them as something that would make her unique and give her once again a purpose that is unique to her and not just her being one of many soldiers

He even apologized, knowing it wouldn't be easy for her (since he expected Winter and not Ozcar) and when he had his talk with RWBY he called Winter her/Weiss' sister instead of just her name and idk but that just made this even more special

In Volume 8 it is once again shown how Winter is basically the one who also trusted Ironwood until the end. And in ch 12 she didnt judge him... She expressed her worries for his behavior. She couldn't believe the man who made her feel like she was everything would ever become so cruel

They way their worry for each other looks so similar

And while I know that they have a theme for the Atlas military , I think it's obvious how Winter looked even more like IW in all her outfits compared to the rest of the military

Many people think Ironwood is dumb for over trusting Winter but I think it shows his flaw as a general. He let's his emotions get in the way since he cares about her and continues to trust her even though she disobeyed orders

His last words were "As my last order: step aside", he could've just shot her again as she layed defenseless on the ground but he didn't

Remember how in the first episode he said "Thank you Winter, I don't know what I would do without you"

Right before, she said that she'll be fine without him asking anything. It sounds a little more personal in my opinion. Why would you tell your boss that you'll be fine without him asking about your status? the conversation was literally about Qrow and Robyn before but he looked worried and wanted the room for themselves and she immediately said that.

Some people also talk about how they emphasized with Ironwood in volume 7 since wasn't shown to have family or a partner yet would do anything for Atlas. But again, he did care about Winter a lot and wanted her to be save.

Something I also noticed when writing this is that in volume 3 Ironwood called her Schnee yet in V7 he calls the Ace Ops and her via first name basis. Clover said that he trusts Ironwood with this life and I think that's how Winter and the Ace ops felt about him, the person who gave them hope. Especially Winter.

And now we're here. Seeing the man cry a tear. We know now, if Winter wins, she has to kill him. Imprisoning him wasn't enough. And I think that will be her final moment of her being a "Ice Queen", when she has to kill him, she will probably turn to her emotional side and grieve.

As mentioned, the military, her position, her rank and Ironwood meant everything to her. She talked so enthusiastically when she had her conversation with Weiss about moving in together without their father and how IW has a place for her younger sister. And now along with Ironwood, both are in a situation they never thought they'd be in.

That was it from me. In short form , I just wanted to share some ideas and things I've noticed about their relationship and dynamic. None of this is meant as a romantic way and you can of course disagree but please stay respectful. Thank you and we'll see each other next chapter<3

P. S. Winter please don't die

[bring-it-all-down]

I think it’s easy to think of Vane’s season one arc as being out of place with the rest of his time on the show, but I’d like to offer an alternative understanding. I think that Vane’s arc is an extremely cohesive examination of Hobbes’s social contract theory that begins with its acceptance and ends with its complete rejection. This is a rather lengthy analysis, but it’s one that people might find interesting if not compelling.

Hobbes’s Social Contract Theory

Central to Hobbes’s conception of political life are four terms: liberty, equality, fear, and power. Liberty for Hobbes is “the absence of external impediments” such as water being enclosed by riverbanks or humans being chained to something (xiv). This conception of liberty is purely physical, detailing a relationship between concrete things. Next, Hobbes understands equality as being the equal ability of one to kill another; there is no natural inequality among human beings as anyone has the power to kill any other person, either through strength of body or of mind, or of some combination of the two. Because everybody has equal power over everyone else’s life and one’s ability to be free, Hobbes states, “they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war as is of every man against every man” (XIII). This condition necessarily leads to “continual fear, and danger of violent death” (xiii).  

Finally, Hobbes defines power as the ability to acquire some future good. This conception of power stems from the fact that there is no private property in Hobbes’s state of nature: “It is consequent also to the same condition that there be no propriety, no dominion, no mine and thine distinct; but only that to be every man’s that he can get, and for so long as he can keep it” (XIII). Power, according to Hobbes, manifests itself in two ways: natural or instrumental. Natural power is acquisition through using physical characteristics like strength and intelligence, whereas instrumental acquisition requires one to use one’s reputation, friends, good luck, etc. 

It is this fear of death and desire for acquisition that leads us to form political communities, which is our natural end; we are meant to live in communities. These communities form when their members “confer all their power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto one will” (xvii). This singular power, known as the Leviathan, is absolute; it cannot be transferred to another body (no separation of powers) or forfeited, and there is no power above it. The Leviathan enforces this power by tying its subjects through “fear of punishment to the performance of their covenants,” namely their covenant to live peacefully with one another (xvii). 

While the Leviathan’s power is absolute in theory, Hobbes does allow for its dissolution if it becomes too arbitrary or capricious on the ground that it would then plunge a civil society back into the state of nature, from which point they would be allowed to choose a new sovereign. However, because the state of nature is so feared, people are highly unlikely to dissolve the Leviathan’s power. This, then, is how authoritarian states justify their power.

In this account of the social contract theory of government, we see the relationship among liberty, equality, fear, and power. In order for people to fully exercise their liberty and power, their fear must be redirected from one another toward a singular entity. This creation of an unequal civil society is what allows for the development of private property, as well as concepts like justice and morality, which are absent in the state of nature due to the lack of agreed upon definitions. 

Vane’s Season 1 Arc

Initially, Vane appears to embrace a Hobbesian conception of the state of nature. His season 1 arc, I believe, is his embrace of Hobbes’s state of nature through the confrontation of the two people who hold power over him: Eleanor and his enslaver. After Eleanor gets him deposed as captain of the Ranger, he tells Idelle, “No captain on this island's ever known that kind of power. Power that doesn't care how many votes you can tally, who loves you, who hates you, who fears you...none of us have any right to hate her for it. She's strong and we're weak. That's the reality of things here. And no one down there is strong enough to change anything” (1.05). Here, Vane reduces things to power. Eleanor has the power to acquire private property and to cut off pirates from doing the same, and so people––including Vane––fear her. To them, she is a quasi-Leviathan figure. However, Nassau exists more as a state of nature than it does as a civil society, and so the possibility of being her equal remains.

While Eleanor threatens Vane’s power, he doesn’t fear her in the same way he fears his enslaver, Albinus, who threatens his life. This constant fear of Albinus manifests itself in Vane hallucinating Albinus’s presence in Nassau. This vision causes Vane to realize that if he is to become equal to Eleanor, he must first become equals with Albinus. He initially seeks to overtake Albinus through taking away his other slaves. He pitches Nassau to them as a place “where strong men live lives of pleasure, not labor, a place where you could be feared and respected once again” (1.07). For Vane, the pleasure comes through realizing one’s equality and thus one’s ability to instill fear rather than have fear instilled in them. As is typical in the state of nature, Vane’s relationship with Albinus ends first with Albinus believing he killed Vane and then with Vane actually killing Albinus. 

Vane’s conversation with Jack upon his return to Nassau cements his role as a Hobbesian figure. He tells Jack, “In some ways, Jack, it had to come to this, don't you think?...Me deciding if you live or die” (1.08). Over the course of the season, Vane has increasingly reduced relationships to the ability one has to kill the other and the fear such ability instills in people. Following a Hobbesian model, then, we would expect Vane to think the formation of civil society with a Leviathan figure to be good, but this is not where his season 2 and 3 arcs go.

Vane’s Season 2 Arc

Indeed, Vane quite explicitly rejects Hobbesian social contract theory. While Hobbes argues that humans are driven toward society in part because of a natural “desire of such things as are necessary to comfortable living” (xiii), Vane says to Flint, “‘Give us your submission, and we will give you the comfort you need.’ No, I can think of no measure of comfort worth that price” (3.08). For Vane, then, living in the “pre-political” Nassau is better than submitting to the power of the state. This is the case because no such “state of nature” exists; there will always be a state attempting to impose its authority on Nassau.

Vane’s separation from Hobbesian political thought, then, begins as a matter of practicality. He does not abandon fear of death as the starting point, but he expands his thought beyond himself. It is no longer simply his own fear of death that drives him, but the fear within his fellow pirates of that same death. After he learns that Charlestown has captured and will kill Flint he tells his and Flint’s crew that “Nassau is strongest when she’s feared. And if what promises to happen here tomorrow actually happens, a trophy made of one of her most notorious captains, she may never be feared again” (2.09). He reiterates this point to his quartermaster, who is concerned that his crew will kill Flint’s crew to steal the Man of War: “Tell them if this ship tries to run on a skeleton crew, they’re going to get chased, they’re going to get caught, and they’re going to get killed” (2.10). It is not fear of one another, then, that drives Vane toward a community but rather fear of the authority of the state. While he and Flint are equals, he realizes that neither is equal to the state, England, and if they remain as individuals, the state will kill them one by one.

Flint’s (and then Vane’s) trial stands as an example of a Hobbesian state; the lawmakers are the executors are the jury. All sovereign authority is placed in the hands of one body with no authority above it. When confronted with this example, Vane comes to conceptualize of community as the only means of instilling fear in the state; as the state is unified, so must be the pirates. 

In accord with Flint telling him “we remind them that they were right to be afraid,” he provides a refutation of Hobbesian sovereignty for the audience: “these men convinced you that they speak for you, that the power you’ve given them is used in your interests. That the prisoner before you is your enemy and they your friends. For those of you who live to see tomorrow... know that you had a choice to see the truth and you let yourselves be convinced otherwise” (2.10). He reminds them that they’ve granted the sovereign power on the basis of it working toward their collective good and can thus conceivably revoke said power. He then illustrates that the sovereign cannot fulfill its purpose of providing for their safety against the threat of pirates and therefore the covenant on which the sovereign’s authority is based is inherently faulty. He pokes metaphorical holes in Hobbes’s contract theory of government before he pokes literal holes in Charlestown with his canons.

Vane’s Season 3 Arc

Vane’s season 3 arc offers an alternative foundation for civil society than fear and desire for property: friendship. When Vane confronts Jack in the first episode of the season for lying to Vane about using slave labor to rebuild the fort when Vane stood up for Jack against Flint, Jack lays it out for Vane: “you and I had been through enough shit for you to know that I would do the same for you, that I have done the same for you, and would again without hesitation. I made a commitment to you, with you, to restore this place, to make it strong again...Please know that I meant no slight by it. No lack of respect or friendship. It's quite the opposite” (3.01). Vane is certainly right to be angry about enslaving people, but Jack is correct in reminding him that this new effort to free Nassau has as its basis friendship and mutual respect.

At this point, however, Vane does not yet understand what friendship entails. For that, he needs to confront his understanding of friendship, which he does through the return of Edward Teach to Nassau. The conception of friendship Vane learned from Teach is simply to let people live when you could have killed them. Teach did this for Vane when Vane betrayed him for Eleanor, and he did it for Jack after Jack lost the pearls in the ocean, and it was his offer to Eleanor after she betrayed him by freeing Abigail from him. 

When Teach offers to defend Nassau if afterwards Vane sails with him away from Nassau forever, he outlines what their relationship is: “I do not seek your partnership because I am too weak to defend myself. I don't seek it to protect my things or to increase profit...There is an instinct to leave behind something made in one's own image. Nature has denied me the ability, it would seem, but not the need” (3.03). This understanding of their relationship rejects the fundamental Hobbesian basis for such things––it’s not fear of death or desire for acquisition––and instead points toward a desire for a certain kind of immortality. However, this relationship still fundamentally falls within a Hobbesian conception of the family which is artificially constructed in civil society and which requires the children to obey and honor their fathers. Therefore, this, too, is a relationship not based on friendship.

It is Jack’s conversation with Vane before he leaves with Teach that offers Vane a different kind of friendship. Despite Woodes Rogers’ early arrival ruining their plans to defend Nassau and the target placed not only on Vane but on all pirates close to him, Jack refuses to leave with Vane. His refusal is predicated on the fact that he desires freedom: “Teach respects you...but me, I have no interest in living as a target of his….Nor would I be a ward of yours. I've made something for myself here. I'll make it again somehow, but I've come too far to go back” (3.04). Here, Jack presents friendship as a type of equality predicated on freedom. Friendship must be a choice rather than the obligation to repay a debt, and it must result in some type of good for the parties beyond the acquisition of material goods. Jack refuses to go with Vane because his desire to make something of himself is greater than his desire to live a subservient life.

Flint reiterates this notion of freedom to Vane when he comes to ask him to rejoin the effort to free Nassau from England. Vane tells him “my pledge to him began a long time before I ever knew your name. What I owe him…” (3.06). In response, Flint says this project is too important to be clouded by any of that: “Forget me, forget Teach, forget loyalty, compacts, honor, debts, all of it. The only question that matters is this. Who are you?” (3.06). While Hobbes defines liberty in relation to external impediments, both Jack and Flint understand it as something greater than that, something that points inward and moves beyond the desire for safety or the terms of contracts, be they written or otherwise.

After being presented with this understanding a second time, Vane finally accepts it as true. He leaves with Flint to join the revolution. He allows himself to be arrested in order to free Jack. He does all of this on the basis of this new understanding of friendship. When Jack asks why he came back to Nassau, Vane jokingly tells him, “got worried you two'd be lost without me,” but it’s more sincere than joke (3.08). He is committed fully to liberating Nassau not to return it to the days of Teach but to provide it as a counter to the social contract theory of civil society. His final speech before being hanged reveals this shift in his political thought:

These men who brought me here today do not fear me. They brought me here today because they fear you. Because they know that my voice, a voice that refuses to be enslaved, once lived in you. And may yet still. They brought me here today to show you death and use it to frighten you into ignoring that voice. But know this. We are many. They are few. To fear death is a choice. And they can't hang us all (3.09). 

He has gone from believing the fear of death to be the greatest fear, the motivator for all human action, to somebody choosing to let civilization kill him. He does this because he now knows there are things worse than death and things greater than physical freedom. He does this because he understands that he owes his fellow pirates the chance to obtain this freedom for themselves. He does this because he has come to recognize that friendship is the act of helping people better themselves.

Conclusion

Vane’s arc therefore acts as a critique of Hobbesian social contract theory. He demonstrates that the sovereign’s power is based on an illegitimate conception of human nature that emphasizes the desire to dominate others. But he also illustrates the fundamental problems with living in a pre-political community attempting to exist outside of the sovereign power. Through his arc, then, we are presented with the fact that a legitimate society based on true friendship in achieving the good of all is not only possible but is worth the sacrifice of one’s life.

[jaggedwolf]

air support, we need you (or: tscosi 2x09)

some bomb dropping, ofc, spoilers below duh

same game, top three things i had feelings ‘bout in reverse order

3. time skip time! Everyone could use a bit of a breather, even if it can’t live up to Arkady’s goat farm dreams

I thought all the planet assignments made sense, even if the completionist in me wanted it to differ more from the split that had already happened this season

ok ok the shipper in me was 50-50 but we’ll address that later

2. my man park!! is back!!! 

Showing up with an anti-aircraft missile launcher as a wedding gift. I kept joking that Park would keep up his finale trend of showing up as a surprise being cool (as cool as Park can be anw), and thought it wouldn’t happen till it did!

and him also quietly saying the defector wasn’t Shelly....Park...are you going to talk about this...

narrowly avoided extended crew singing for the third time, will he keep up this success rate?

I would take a mini-episode that just followed Park in the second half of the season (Park: I am an independent man who needs no crew)

1. Arkady attacking Krejjh because she thinks they’re an enemy, AND then McCabe pulling a gun on her to make sure she didn’t run away. Bro. Bro, that shit was a direct hit to the id. Do I even have words for how good that was

Knowing what was about to happen as soon as Arkady said “You” in that tone of voice, ugh

Krejjh saying Arkady instead of First Mate Patel in desperation, and then brushing it off with a :D after

But god, McCabe. They’ve been so compelling this season, and yeah, maybe they’re approaching everything like a nail with the hammer they’ve got that shoots bullets, but the point is, it fuckin works 

Arkady buys the threat (the promise of her crew’s safety?) more than she buys Krejjh’s reassurances 

(though reading the transcript, Krejjh specifically telling Arkady “Science Officer Liu will never forgive you”, not “forgive us”, is excellent too)

“the only authority figures yet to disappoint me” / “I’m not an authority figure” / “you don’t get to decide that” is just like. embedded in my mind. just McCabe going no, you don’t get to run verbally either.

Do you ever think about how Arkady and McCabe had like, different kinds of fucked up childhoods compared to the rest of the crew. Like obviously McCabe ending up an agent so young and the stuff about their family suggests a pretty secure background, but it feels like the IGR and Dwarnian war starting when they were 12 gives them a kind of cynicism that meshes well with Arkady’s, in a way that’s distinct from how Arkady and Violet’s morbidness mesh, or Arkady and Sana’s pragmatism

ok more character feels under the cut

don’t scandalize the grandparents

A married man! 

Impressed he made it through the season with no baddies wrecking his oxygen

Always ready to point out that Arkady is actually as much of a nerd as he is

AKA I didn’t realize it was a Mozart reference till he said so. Arkady defies the jock-nerd chart

okay who of Arkady or Krejjh is gonna tell him about MMA fight outside, or did they do a whole team debrief. For Arkady’s sake I’m hoping not the latter, though I guess everyone else would like an explanation for McCabe’s gun-pointing??

likes solving problems without guns, would prefer solving them by FLYING SPACESHIPS 

Krejjh watches McCabe’s gun strategy work on Arkady and goes “do you folks really live like this?? why???”

I do love that their first thought on what to do next is to run a bunch of supplies around, probably between human populations that are going to be a wary at seeing a dwarnian show up. (Eat it, Eejjhgreb)

Kinda wonder if their feelings about getting choked out by their buddy are in fact more complicated than “it’s chill dude, please don’t do something stupid”

The cutest vow

who needs to calm down your crewmates with annoying words when you can just point a gun at them

Seriously where is the human-dwarnian war AU where it lasts longer or happens later where McCabe is the baby sniper posted to Arkady’s unit and they squabble a bunch (and perhaps kiss? When I wrote my third ever ficlet for this fandom never did I anticipate actually being interested in that)

what % of their Mirzakhani choice was thinking “what if Arkady tries to run from the goat farm and no one’s around to point a gun at her” jk jk

Their exclusion of Park from authority figures that didn’t disappoint them is fascinating. Is it that he left hoping for Shelly when it probably wasn’t her, or that he isn’t an authority figure anymore, a combination there of?

Or worst of all, is it that when he didn’t kill Krejjh back in 1x10, that really was a disappointment, no matter how much it might’ve been mixed with relief, and you can’t undo that moment?

What if they and Park talked. But I don’t think Park is going to goat planet, so that seems unlikely.

Their apology to Sana for heightened Martineau security! And Sana reiterating the profound gratefulness bit, gah

mostly read other people’s words and yet sparked consideration of two different OT3s, her power.

you know what, everyone deciding Sana is the best person to read words makes complete sense

There was one specific moment this episode that sent my mind into a tizzy about V/A/S, and it was Arkady going FINE GO ASK THE CAPTAIN THEN at how firm Violet was that Tripathi would be the one driving her, not Arkady.

I need you to understand that my V/A/S OT3 opinions are such that my shipping feels were more set off by that than Sana and Violet telling Arkady they were proud of her for choosing goat planet or whatever, like I don’t even know what dynamic was so captured by that argument, rip at Arkady having to be systems apart from them again

Though ofc my heart was buoyed by Sana’s earnest “Kady, you do more than that”, I want these two to go do a job together again, I miss that

To shift gears, I cannot believe “Lenny” started out as Sana being absolutely furious at the people threatening her crew and has ended up a teasing in-joke between her and Park, my Sana/Park shipping feels were very content. (When does Sana learn that Park didn’t get to hear the long list of fake crimes the Rumor crew specifically confessed to Lenny? This must be fixed. Tell him about the diamonds!)

Campbell said “Park, let me show you where we’ve been sleeping.” and my brain went. Wait. This is actually a good OT3?? Park is already unnerved by Sana’s earnest captaining, he should get unnerved by Campbell’s default magnanimity, please consider this

this is also where I point out that all these major characters have very convenient names for indicating ships solely via letters. V/A! B/K! S/P/C! This may solve my ot3 tagging problem...

get off that cotton candy boat, vi

Haha I loved that line from Doc Robinson she’s so no-nonsense, love Violet agreeing to work with her

Doc also said menders and I thought about this post again and also the team split and ahhh

But no, I very much liked Violet gently crushing Arkady’s goat farm dreams, and the two of them awkwardly discussing the very awkward stage things are at while still getting a feel for how the other operates

These nerds are trying and I’m still fond of them

at some point I was gonna make fun of Vi for not being able to drive before realising 1. she probably didn’t want to deprive the others of a vehicle 2. that would be incredibly hypocritical of me

wait does the igr have excellent public transport when they aren’t bombing it i take back every bad thing i’ve said abou-

*ahem* same question about the MMA fight debrief I had for Brian, it would be so funny if the situation was so rushed that like, Arkady+McCabe explain to Brian on the farm and Krejjh has to tackle everyone else

tick, tock, walking bomb, when it stops, nobody knows

arkady is so whumpable, and this show knows it

Redundant, but love how terrified of herself she is after hurting Krejjh and how strangely reassured she is by McCabe’s gun antics. And how she doesn’t like thinking of herself as an authority figure on the ship even though she literally is as First Mate

is ready to monologue about all major life events and the crew frickin knows it

is trying to help herself and stuff, still grumbling about it. in worse shape this season than last - probably all the constant discussion of the inevitable war just kept building stuff up and she kept ignoring it because haha who wants to deal with this prickly mess of a person haha

did i mention she’s the best

hope she gets her full goat farm dream one day, even if it’s not on actual goat farm

[ravnicaforgoblins]

Ravnica for Goblins

Alignment

Figuring out where on the spectrum of beliefs, morals, and neutrality your character falls can be a challenge. One individual’s Chaotic Good is another’s Lawful Evil. To help clarify things, most campaigns include alignment for significant NPCs, and one can often draw a line between that NPC and that alignment. This doesn’t apply to every NPC, but the more important someone is, the more they come to represent a specific section of the moral grid in a campaign.

Ravnica does this as well, with most of the alignment chart represented by a Guildmaster. This isn’t completely uniform, however, so there’s wiggle room for an NPC to lean one way or the other as fits the story. There are some pretty safe bets, however, who can be counted on to check certain boxes at all times.

Isperia of the Azorius Senate: Lawful Neutral

Isperia represents the goal of the Azorius; objective devotion to upholding the laws as they are written. She was elected to her position because of her ability to look passed right & wrong, instead focusing solely on interpreting Ravnica’s 10d6 of Psychic damage legal system for all disputes.

Lazav of House Dimir: Neutral Evil

Lazav is the Dimir at their most annoying but least murderous. Blatant disregard for everyone’s privacy, but preference for stealing, secrets, and information over assassination. Lazav infiltrates every Guild, including his own, always determined to stay several steps ahead of any potential threat. This is not to say he won’t kill people if necessary, but his is a cold, “bloodstained calculus” methodology. It’s never personal.

Rakdos of the Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic Evil

On this plane, Rakdos is the living embodiment of Chaotic Evil, a title he takes very seriously. It’s just about the only thing he takes seriously, as he prefers to live without rules and have everyone else do the same. Unrestrained hedonism and mayhem are his bread & butter. You do what you want, whatever you want, whenever you want, however you want, regardless of what anyone or anything else says. No restrictions, no inhibitions, no hesitation. Encouraging this kind of destructive chaos in the streets is the only thing keeping Rakdos from embracing more orthodox Chaotic Evil behavior of slaughtering millions, enslaving thousands, and bowing to no one.

The Obzedat of the Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful Evil

Hard to believe there can be something worse than an actual Demon given permission to encourage every sin imaginable, but that is what the Ghost Council are. The Obzedat exist to stretch, bend, and twist every law designed to maintain order, neutrality, or justice so as to benefit themselves. What’s worse is how the Orzhov play innocent when they do it. Unlike the Dimir or the Rakdos who accept and even embrace society’s interpretation of their actions, the Orzhov refuse to be seen as anything but humble, spiritual, gracious public servants. The very antithesis of what they actually are; arrogant, miserly, manipulative bastards. They will point out exactly which laws they are not breaking, which laws there is insufficient evidence to prove they are breaking, and which laws prevent you from punching them in the face right now.

Trostani of the Selesnya Conclave: Neutral Good

If there’s one thing to be said for Selesnya, it’s that they are rarely the problem. The Conclave is perfectly content to keep to their fields & forests most of the time and focus solely on building up their own Guild. In a city where every Guild has a problem with every other Guild, Selesnya is the only one who at least tries to get along with everyone else. They don’t tend to get involved in matters that don’t concern them, but theirs is always a safe haven for those who seek it. Trostani is made up of three dryads representing Harmony, Life, and Order. You don’t get much more Neutral Good than that. The only problem is that Trostani basically never leave their Guildhall, so their influence only spreads so far. The reason they can live so peacefully is because so little of the chaotic city life overlaps into theirs.

Besides them, everyone has wiggle room and gray area to move around in. Both Niv-Mizzet and Borborygmos are canonically Chaotic Neutral, but with their most prominent personality traits being vanity & anger, respectively, the “Neutral” part of that can go out the window quick. Still, almost every Guild has at least a semblance of a position somewhere on the chart to start from. You can basically count on a member of each Guild to be at least:

Azorius Senate: Lawful

This is the Guild that writes the laws of Ravnica, after all. They literally draw their power from this ancient legal code, so it makes sense that, whether an Azorius leans more towards Good, Evil, or Neutrality, they do so lawfully.

Boros Legion: Good

If the Azorius follow the intellectual letter of the law, the Boros follow the passionate spirit for which said law was originally written. Justice, not legal-ese. Sometimes the law is good enough, but sometimes it fails its citizens. A Boros should be an inspiring force for Good, whether Lawful or Chaotic depends on the individual.

House Dimir: Neutral

The best a Dimir operative can hope to achieve, morally speaking, is neutrality. If you are working for this Guild, you are lying & stealing. Odds are you are infiltrating another Guild to find/steal information to report back to your superior(s). Not every Dimir agent does this willingly, however. Maybe a character only became a Dimir operative after finding out their mentor was. Maybe a character had nowhere else to turn and no one else to depend on. Maybe they just needed House Dimir’s connections to get them close enough to someone in another Guild who wronged them. Whatever the motivation, cling to that gray area of neutrality like your life depends on it. It’s all you’ve got.

Gruul Clans: Chaotic

Gruul are many things. “Lawful” is not one of them. If you’re a member of a Gruul Clan, you’ve definitely got a bit of a temper on you and a strong disregard for authority. Now, a Gruul can absolutely be a force for good, or, conversely, evil. Maybe you joined the Gruul after your ancestral home was bulldozed over for a smelly Izzet facility. Maybe you had a mental breakdown after decades of trying to uphold law in a city where the laws mean jack shit unless there’s a guy in blue sitting at his desk. Maybe you got tired of planting trees and getting stepped on. Maybe you don’t like the pretentiousness of so-called “artists”. Maybe you just like hitting things. Whatever your reason, the Gruul will welcome another anarchist.

Golgari Swarm: Chaotic/Evil/Neutral

The Golgari Swarm are the first Guild where you’re really going to find a lot of diversity in alignment. Some definitely fall into the chasm of Chaotic Evil Necromancers, others stand firmly in the fields of True Neutral Rot Farmer, and some idly wander between the two. Necromancy is pretty normal in Golgari society, and “Evil” can be considered a harsh word to describe it. It’s definitely more normalized in the Undercity than it is on the surface. A lot of typically Evil behavior is like that for the Golgari, lest we forget that this society of giant bugs, necromancers, zombies, medusa, etc also run the sewage system and food stamps program for the city. That said, there are definitely Golgari with sufficient ambition/motivation to become ready-made Big Bads. What is a Lich, after all, but a wizard who says, “No, I’m too important to die!”

Izzet League: Chaotic

If there’s one predictable aspect of the Izzet, it’s that they are unpredictable. For a Guild whose founding principle is “I wonder what would happen if....”, it’s best to accept that you’ll never be Lawful. Your job, as it is, is to look at laws (nature, physics, etc) and poke at them with electrodes to see what happens. Your focus will always be on things that haven’t been written down yet, as opposed to what already has. It’s almost literally impossible to be Lawful and Izzet for that reason alone. As far as Good, Evil, and Neutral go; that’s up to the individual. This experiment could replicate food so we never have to eat Golgari rations again! Or it could replicate essential personnel to prevent understaffing! Or, it could even replicate.... ME (cue maniacal laughter).

Orzhov Syndicate: Lawful

The Orzhov, like the Azorius, draw their power and influence from the laws of Ravnica. Evil is expected, though not mandatory, but Lawful is a requirement. An Orzhov who doesn’t know their way around Ravnica’s laws is a loose end, and the Orzhov don’t allow loose ends to jeopardize their schemes & ambitions. One can absolutely be a Lawful Neutral Orzhov, also known as an Accountant, but such individuals rarely find their way into a life of adventure. A Lawful Good Orzhov can exist, but your greatest adversary will be the large majority of your Guild who sees you as a potential threat to their illicit activities. In which case, you’ll want to know those laws even better than they do.

Cult of Rakdos: Chaotic

Chaos is mandatory, evil is encouraged. By “Evil”, we mean “things people tell you are Evil”. Anything you would do while drunk you should be able to do at all times! There’s really only three rules in the Cult of Rakdos:

Rule #1, Rakdos is #1

Rule #2, JUST DO IT

Rule #3, Don’t be boring

Being Neutral breaks Rule 3, being Good breaks Rule 2 and/or 3, and being Lawful breaks all 3 rules. Which reminds me of the fourth rule:

Rule #4, NEVER break Rule #1

Truthfully, being Chaotic Good or Chaotic Neutral is perfectly fine as long as you don’t impede on someone else’s hedonism without a reason, or lack thereof. As long as you’re being free & crazy, that’s what really matters.

Selesnya Conclave: Good

As stated with Trostani, Selesnya is a pretty consistent force of Good, if nothing else. They don’t really do hate, you know? Life in the Conclave is pretty uniformly Good, so why make trouble? Why can’t everyone just be Good? In short; ‘cause they don’t wanna, none of your business, go hug a tree, and/or because fire is FUN. Lawful fits some individuals but can just get in the way for others. Neutral is pretty solid but some things must call you to act. Chaotic is if you really want to embrace being a Nature Warrior in a planet-sized cityscape. Selesnya is the Guild for goodie two-shoes, as if that’s a bad thing.

Simic Combine: Any

The Simic Combine is the one Guild that can honestly fall anywhere on the alignment chart. The Guild started out as Doctors, Naturalists, and preservers of life. Now it also operates large-scale bioengineering. You can have a Lawful Good Simic Paladin committed to preserving life and health, a True Neutral Simic Forcemage (Druid) dedicated to living a simple life bolstering plant growth, or a Chaotic Evil Simic Wizard who has decided on everyone’s behalf that flippers and gills are now mandatory. Just like science can be used for great Good, great Evil, or mundane routine, the Simic Combine can turn its experiments to any purpose, depending on the individual. And whereas the Izzet are firmly Chaotic, the Simic have the foresight to think ahead before they try an experiment. You can be anything you want in the Simic Combine, just plan it out.

[incarnateirony]

Hi!

Sorry for troubling you with this but I wanted to clarify something for myself. In those posts where you were answering people's questions about, whether Cas's got himself a soul or was saved by Jack, and were saying that it all was in the script, which leaked a long time ago, and all over your meta. But how can people, who didn't read the script and your posts, work it out? Like was there something on the show which said how souls are created through feelings? Because it seems a bit of a stretch that the authors made, for example, so much obvious that Cas's confession was love confession but failed to deliver some at least visual evidence that he got to heaven (with some spec of light in the Empty or something). They had to give some verbal or noticeable visual evidence of the process of creating a soul or Cas going to heaven.

Or we were supposed to get this from the fact that souls don't go to the Empty?

Everyone explained it with Jack because they have seen him an episode before calling desperately for Cas because he missed him and then getting the abilities to bring him back.

Figuring out the soul option from only TV episodes requires analysis if it is even possible, which i don't think, the authors thought the audience would do.

So what do you think about it?

Sorry for the length. And thank you.

So here’s the deal: do I imagine somewhere, in the depths of official business notes even beyond script drafts, there may even be a “yeah sure whatever jack brought him back” to answer any questions to the same suits that can’t tell what the fucking Roadhouse is much less more nuanced story beats? Sure.

But here’s the beats.

Check my #Shadow and #Cosmogenesis tags to begin--but in summary: the shadow is both a protogenic and personal psychological concept of the unformed or unaddressed self, and As-Above-So-Below, of the unformed and unperceived world. That is to say-- everyone and everything has a shadow. If you check out Jung, he explains essentially that the shadow is everything we repress about ourselves or fear addressing.

Now, look at the Occultum, where Jack reclaimed his soul; as Cas put it: “Loosely translated: In order to be in the occultum, the occultum must be in you.” -- but also remember the same episode highlighted “Occultum” is just Latin for “hidden.” -- They made an entire funny trade-off about that. 

See, with the alchemy theme on the year, the original cipher reads, in Latin:  “Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando Invenies Occultum Lapidem,” or in English, “Visit the interior of the earth and rectifying you will find the hidden stone.” 

The motto originated in L’Azoth des Philosophes by the 15th Century alchemist Basilius Valentinus. But in alchemy, the shorthand is that the earth is symbolic of the body, and the hidden stone is the perfect soul. 

Naming it the Occultum in Latin, and highlighting the latin, then randomly transcribing it in Enochian for Castiel to be the one to get that line spoken was incredibly poignant: they streamlined the symbolism with his “roughly translated” commentary, but the sentiment remained. Given, the gnostic dweebs in our server, when we realized Jack literally ATE IT:

Either way, Jack disappears into the occultum within him to unlock his hidden soul, where the serpent asks one of the prime questions of the journey of the self: “Who Are You?” -- in rectifying what is found there, Jack rediscovers his soul and is reborn.

But the Occultum isn’t only JUST this literal place. It’s a place, it’s a thing, whatever it is, it’s powerful. That was the core key to come in contact with it, but the moral of the story is simple: the kingdom of heaven is within you all along. 

But first we have issues to rectify.

The stages are simple. The Shadow asks, “Who are they?” in its dawning state, lacking self identity. On a cosmogenic level, this is where for example Chuck and Amara come to be. On a personal level, this is when we look both outward at other people for identity and even almost disassociated from ourselves.

“I know what you hate, I know who you love, what you fear, there is nothing for you back there.��� - Castiel’s shadow on an individual level reflected this in a detached third person sort of way, even if the reflection itself is incredibly personal. The speech is “I speak in order to affirm we are the same.” -- I’m you, you’re me. But if the shadow is rejected, we do not address it.

The Animus, or basic ego, asks “Who am I?” it’s the first stage of wondering. The speech phase is marked “I don’t speak as I don’t dare.” By the next phase (Anima, the superego or dawning soul), it’s “Who are you?” and the speech phase is “I speak as I don’t dare to remain silent.”

On Castiel’s journey, this comes through things like the prayer group where he talks about rediscovering who he was. In the raw initial text, it was coming to realize that he became a father and found a family. But later, 15.18 -- as we approach a stage called Rubedo or the Magician -- has the question “Who art thou”. The speech stage is “I speak in order to hear what I have to say.”

Now, Dean for example had his share of this journey even if it was less about gaining a soul as SPN gives him one as a human birthright but more in repairing the damages on it and also learning when to let go. The four phases are also associated with birthing phases. And death phases. Rubedo is death and birth at the same time.

Notice closely Castiel’s dialogue with Dean; in Purgatory, in a stage reflective of the shadow called Nigredo, where their relationship had rotten and putrefied, he took a knee into Albedo, connected to Animus. I don’t know why I get so angry. It’s always been there. And I can’t stop it. You’re my best friend and I just let you go. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t stop it. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. Cas, there’s something I have to tell you. 

But I don’t speak as I don’t dare/you don’t have to say it.

Castiel turned around in his own awakening and answered this prayer. He addressed why Dean has these self worth and anger issues and how worthy he is of love.

This, just like several other visuals on the year (15.09, 13) are symbolic of something called the Marriage of the Minds. If Grace/Mind is embodied in Castiel, which also mirrors the divine feminine (hence calling the light Rowena parallel in both his death and what he does post-rebirth), and well--Soul and humanity has always been Dean, which is also the solar emblem. Their union gives life to the World, which they just kept kicking us in the teeth with both the phrase of over the year and the visuals in 19. Cue, planetary zoomout, for reasons.

But this also falls into the shadow’s “threat” to Castiel: When you let the sun shine on your face, that’s when I’ll come.

Castiel poured out his heart and, well... soul, basically, about Dean. He changed because of Dean. He carried his torch of right and wrong and what it meant to love because of Dean. Dean changed him. And the moon and mind was full of light reflected in the soul, because of what they did and learned for the Whole World. For love.

A phrase from the corpus hermeticum is, “The cause of Death is Love, but Love is All,” and All itself is another macro/microcosm: the All is the Shadow when perceived, the universal soul, it is essentially--in SPN terms--heaven, unadulterated by the whims of the demiurge that was Chuck. It is the place where souls are born -- as the occultum, the garden, led to Eden, which DSOTM also tells us some see as god’s throne. It’s that we all have a throne inside of ourselves. 

Castiel in subsuming Death in an act of love addressed his every fear and repressed issue of himself, and came to learn that Happiness wasn’t in the having, it was in the Being, it was in the Just Speaking It. The just tweeting it out.

But if you track back to those cosmogenics tags, Being comes from the Prima Materia, and the Prima Materia once perceived is the light of the world that is the soul. Souls are real, everything else is perception. People, families, we are. 

The Empty is both a cosmogenic paradox and a place within ourselves of our own hollowness -- those things we won’t let ourselves have or feel, but without it, we will never be complete. The idea embodied in the occultum is opposite of that, but also within all of us. It’s nowhere-everywhere-in-us. It’s a matter of asking: Who are you? Who am I?

“You think that’s what you are/That is not who you are.” Castiel addressed, but instead told him of love, and the world, and being the most loving man he would ever meet. “That is who you are.”

In this moment Castiel addressed both himself, and even Dean’s issues. Castiel answered who he was and, at the same time, helped Dean come to peace with who *he* is. And that sacrifice and moment would not be in vain. So it was time to stop the anger, and the desperation, and to live on as intended, and eventually let go in peace come his time. 

Sam’s path on this was always leading opposite and always leading him towards earth. Not in a bad way either. It’s fine to do that. Sam had his own chance at individuality told in the future-story. 

But it’s about the Shadow integration, about the difference in Being or Absence and knowing what is Good, in about the peace we can find in all of ourselves to be complete. 

I do feel a bit sad that the plot end had to be diverted; they generally addressed the idea of Dean needing to speak at the end of the road. But the original point he “had to tell you” and got shut down on never manifest, to the expectable disappointment of all. But I guess that’s what eternity-ever-after is for. 

“Castiel is At Peace.” -- At Peace. Heaven tag. Not the Empty. “Mary Winchester is At Peace”, remember that? And teaching the guys to let go and move on because she was at peace?

Even souls can burn out--that’s what demons even are after all. The fact that Dean’s story long walked parallel to the threat of wandering into the Empty isn’t a fluke either. Because of his own issues the concept reflects. But he didn’t. He went to heaven. And probably has 15.09 and 15.18 to thank for that in the subtext.

Integrating with the shadow to become a complete persona (Jung) or soul (general alchemy) aka gold (also general alchemy) doesn’t leave regrets to even sit there and dream about. In fact, the entire heaven structure and division--even that’s perceptual. Check out the Axis Mundi meta on that. Chuck protected his Thought Box against the shadow and it needed summoned, but anybody notice it’s fine on rolling through heaven? It’s up to the rules in each chamber there. It’s just the flipside of the garden/throne/heaven-- it’s not being At Peace. It’s not being full. It’s not being your complete self. It’s just Absence (14.18, the soul.)

The Shadow haunted Castiel as his fears, and when Castiel lacked self worth and to some extent invited death and suffering, it reflected those desires. But in addressing the reasons for having them, it turns into another form of Being entirely.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Vice and Virtue in Tolkien’s Works

I’ve been rereading Dante’s Purgatorio (easily my favourite of the three sections, both for having a very satisfying structure and for its themes of repentance and reform), and the structure inspired this post. Each level of purgatory has images, words, or both, associated with the vice being reformed and its corresponding virtue (the examples being drawn both from the Bible and Greco-Roman history and mythology) and it gave me ideas for a discussion of similar themes in Tolkien’s works.

The structure is: 1) Pride/Humility; 2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit; 3) Wrath/Charity; 4) Sloth/Zeal); 5) Avarice/Simplicity; 6) Gluttony/Abstinence; 7) Lust/Romantic Love.

1) Pride/Humility

Saruman: Our time is at hand: the world of Men, which we must rule. But we must have power, power to order all things as we will, for that good which only the Wise can see.

Frodo: I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.

This is easily the primary emphasis in Tolkien’s works. The fall of all his main villains (Morgoth, Sauron, Fëanor, the Númenoreans, Saruman) and as well as other non-villainous tragic characters (Túrin, Thingol, Turgon, Thorin, Denethor) is characterized by pride - the desire to be the one calling the shots, the desire for greatness and others’ recognition of that greatness, the refusal to listen to the advice or views of others.

It’s there in Melkor’s desire for his theme to be the only one heard in the Music; in Sauron’s desire to rule the world and arrange everything as he thinks best; in Fëanor’s determination to take any advice, correction, or disagreement as a personal attack, his desire for rulership in Middle-earth, and his attitude that the Silmarils are more important than anything anyone else has done or created; the late-stage Númenoreans’ campaign of imperialist conquest. It’s there in Túrin’s, Thingol’s, and Turgon’s rejection of good advice; in Thingol’s attitude towards other peoples, whether it’s Beren or the dwarves; in Denethor’s conviction that Gondor is the only place and people of any account in the war against Sauron.

Humility, in contrast, is mainly seen in the form of hobbits. None of them have any idea what they’re doing when they leave Rivendell (Sam and Pippin don’t even know where Mordor is), and they know they’ve got no idea. They’re not going because they see themselves as specially skilled or qualified, but because it needs to be done. And that’s the very reason Frodo can resist the Ring so long, and Sam can resist it, because they don’t have any grand ideas of themselves.

The ability to say I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll try to do what’s right is pretty crucial to humility; even members of the Fellowship who are far more experienced, skilled and knowledgeable than the hobbits show it. Aragorn says it, in the search for Merry and Pippin when they’re captured by orcs. Pride could easily say I need to go with the Ring-bearer, that’s the most important task or I need to go to Gondor and lead the war against Sauron as their King. But Aragorn lets himself trust in other people doing their parts, and focuses on rescuing his companions - the thing that no one else is a available to do - even as the chase seems increasingly hopeless. It’s also seen in Gandalf, who openly admitted he was scared to go when the Valar first sent him, and wandered around as an old man in a battered cloak and hat, talking with everyone, rather than setting himself up as a Respectable Dignified Authority Figure the way Saruman did.

The Silmarillion has fewer examples of humility than LOTR (perhaps why things turn out so much worse there) but there are a few in the Leithian. Lúthien is another case of saying I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’ll do it because no one else will when she sets off to rescue Beren. Finrod walks away from his crown and realm to help a friend.

2) Envy/Generosity of Spirit

Denethor: I will not step down to be the dotatd chamberlain of an upstart.

Faramir: My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?

Envy is akin to pride, but I’m characterizing it as being specifically the resentment of being surpassed (or even equalled) by another.

Fëanor is again a major example of this, specifically in his resentment of Fingolfin and of the descendents of Indis more generally. Peoples of Middle-earth notes that he resented the name Nolofinwë (Fingolfin’s Quenya name, roughly means ‘wise-Finwë or ‘learned-Finwë’) due to regarding himself as not only the most skilled of the Noldor at craftwork (which he was), but also the most skilled at lore/scholarship (which he wasn’t), and likewise resented the name Arafinwë (Finarfin’s Quenya name). He’s in a mental place of resenting anything positive that can be said about his brothers as if it inherently detracts from him. And he takes the same attitude towards Men (‘No other race shall oust us!’), treating their very existence as a threat to the Eldar. Losgar is the peak of this: he’s willing to sabotage his own war effort to prevent Fingolfin from participating. This is contasted with Maedhros’ attitude after being rescued by Fingon, when he willingly gives up the crown and, later, moves across Beleriand to the most exposed section of the northern border to avoid conflict. His own status isn’t his priority; peace with his family and the best interests of the war against Morgoth are his priorities.

Denethor is another major example, seeing both Aragorn’s return and Faramir’s respect for Gandalf as personal affronts to himself. (Gandalf points out that the literal job description of a steward is to be in charge until the king returns. When the king comes back, that means you’ve done your job, not that you’re being demoted. Denethor is not interested in hearing this.) He’s also mentioned in the Appendices to have resented the respect and admiration recieved by Thorongil [i.e. Aragorn in disguise] during the days of their youth. In very similar ways, Saruman resented the high regard that some (like Galadriel) had for Gandalf, and saw Gandalf as a rival. Thorongil and Gandalf were not interested in rivalry; they were more interested in what was achieved than in who was achieving it. Faramir is the contrast here - he is interested in the good of Gondor, not his own status, and has no jealousy of Aragorn.

3. Wrath/Charity

Fëanor: See, half-brother! This is sharper than thy tongue. Try but once more to usurp my place and the love of my father, and maybe it will rid the Noldor of one who seeks to be the master of thralls.

Gandalf: It was Pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand; Pity, and Mercy, not to strike without need.

I would say that this is the third-most-emphasized of the vices in Tolkien’s works, after pride and avarice. And, of course, another Fëanor example: both his threat on Fingolfin’s life and his actions during the Return of the Noldor, the latter being driven by wrath primarily against Morgoth and secondarily against everyone else in his vicinity (Valar! Teleri! Fingolfin and anyone who supports him!). It’s the spillover that’s the problem, and the self-centredness; hating Morgoth isn’t a problem in and of itself, but Fëanor’s taking the fight against evil and turning it into a personal vendetta, with disastrous consequences.

Túrin is another example, most particularly in three events: causing the death of Saeros, burning the hall of Brodda in Dor-lómin, and killing Brandir. The former two are provoked, the latter isn’t, but all of them are sudden deeds of anger that only serve to make matters worse.

The contrasting virtue is charity, mercy shown to people that you have good reason to be hostile towards. Fingon’s rescue of Maedhros. Lúthien’s sparing of Curufin when he and Celegorm attacked her and Beren. Frodo sparing Gollum and treating him with kindness and compassion.

4. Sloth/Zeal

Guard Hobbit: It won’t do no good talking that way. He’ll get to hear of it. And if you make so much noise, you’ll wake the Chief’s Big Man.

Merry: Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don’t know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they’ll go up in fire.

This is comparatively less of an emphasis in Tolkien’s works than some of the other pairings, but I can think of some examples. The best one is Saruman’s takeover of the Shire and the subsequent liberation. Sloth is the characteristic hobbit vice (not gluttony; I’ll get to that); they tend towards being comfortable and complacent and don’t like being bestirred. Even Frodo dawdled around for half a year after learning about the Ring, mostly because he was reluctant to go. And under first Lotho and then Saruman, everyone (except Tooks) more or less puts up with an abuses because they don’t want the trouble or danger of standing up against them. It’s the return of Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, who have experience fighting evil on a much larger scale (and who can organize things) that spurs them to stand up for themselves and their home.

5. Avarice/Simplicity

Celegorm: For the Silmarils we alone claim, until the world ends.

Gandalf: I wonder what has become of [the mithril-shirt]? Gathering dust still in Michel Delving Mathom-house, I suppose.

Avarice is, I would say, the second-most-emphasized vice in Tolkien’s works, after pride. The central conflicts in both The Silmarillion and The Lord of the Rings are objects (they’re in the titles!): the Silmarils and the Ring. The Oath is almost the strongest possible expression of avarice, the most extreme statement of this is mine that a person can make; The Ring is an even more extreme expression, as Sauron makes an object that is literally part of himself. And both conflicts are resolved through the renunciation of claim on these objects, in Eärendil’s journey to Valinor (and the Silmaril becoming a star that is seen by everyone and owned by no one) and Frodo and Sam’s mission to destroy the Ring.

The Silmarils themselves are not evil; they are good and hallowed objects, and fights between elves, dwarves, and men are the result of the Oath (the kinslayings) and the connection with the dragon-contaminated and Mîm-cursed treasure of Nargothrond (Thingol and the dwarves of Nogrod). The Ring is evil, and inducing avarice is its most basic power, even among people like Sméagol and Déagol who could never actually wield it; letting it go is incredibly difficult, and Bilbo and Sam are the only people in the history of the Ring ever to do it.

Avarice is also a central theme in The Hobbit, and dragon-treasure is specifically noted as provoking avarice in people who are in any way inclined towards that vice. Smaug is practically a physical manifestation of avarice in his rage over losing one small cup that he has no use for from an immense hoard, and both Thorin and the master of Lake-town fall prey to the dragon-sickness.

I’ve given ‘simplicity’ as the antonym, and I thought of ‘generosity’ as well, but neither of those is quite right. The opposite of avarice is holding lightly to things, and it’s a particular virtue of hobbits. This is seen both in their birthday parties (the tradition of giving away possessions) and the Michel Delving Mathom-house, a museum for old heirlooms that people feel they don’t need to have around. The most beautiful example is Bilbo’s mithril-shirt (worth more than the entire Shire!) spending some time sitting around there.

It’s worth nothing that the vice of avarice in Tolkien’s works isn’t associated with having stuff, just with holding to stuff. Bag End being comfortable isn’t a problem. The Noldor having piles of jewels isn’t a problem provided that they’re sharing them and letting them go, as in the Noontide of Valinor (gemstones scattered on the seashore!) or Finrod giving them away in Middle-earth. The issue comes when the owning becomes what a person values; the signal that Fëanor is becoming too tied to the Silmarils is when he prefers to lock them away so no one else can see them.

6. Gluttony/Abstinence

Gollum: He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!

The lembas had a virtue without which they would long ago have laid down to die. It did not satisfy desire...and yet this waybread of the Elves had a potency that increased as travellers relied on it alone and did not mingle it with other foods. It fed the will, and gave strength to endure...

Gluttony is distinguished from avarice as the desire to consume things, not merely accumulate them. This is an interesting one, because Tolkien has no issue with the consuption of large amounts of food for enjoyment (which hobbits do frequently and enthusiastically!). As with possessions, enjoyment of physical things isn’t seen as problematic. The enjoyment of everyday pleasures is specifically discussed as morally desirable in a way that contrasts with avaricious accumulation (“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”)

However, there is one large (very, very large) example of the concept of gluttony as unlimited consumption and appetite: Ungoliant. Ungoliant represents not the hoarding of things, but their destruction, and is continually described with very physical terms of appetite and devouring. Shelob and the spiders of Mirkwood are lesser versions of the same concept. There are other mosters in the same vein: Sauron’s werewolves and Carcharoth. On of the names for Carcharoth is Anfauglir, the Jaws of Thirst, specifically invoking the idea of insatiable consumption.

And gluttony can be described more broadly as an form of overconsumption which uses up or destroys things; pollution could be a modern-day example. Looked at in that way, gluttony can be considered the end-stage of all evil in Tolkien, in the same way that pride is its beginning-stage. The ruin of the Anfauglith, the Desolation of the Morannon, the trees of Fangorn used to feed the fires of Isengard or hacked down for no purpose (and even Losgar, if you like) are all its work. Gollum (heavily driven by mundane hunger) grasps this when he fears Sauron regaining the Ring: “He’ll eat us all, if he gets it, eat all the world!” Ungoliant is the final stage of all evil.

In the same way that hobbits enjoying ample meals isn’t treated as a moral flaw, abstinence isn’t particularly notable as a virtue. However, it does come up in forms like Sam noting that lembas provides more endurance as the hobbits rely on it solely in their final journey to Mordor. This indicates that Tolkien regards the ability to go without physical pleasures when necessary as a virtue (also symbolized by Sam’s heartrending decision to give up his cooking gear!) but doesn’t place value on ascetism for its own sake.

If we want to expand on the metaphorical idea of gluttony as overconsumption/destruction, then we can also see healing/restoration as its opposing virtue, in forms like the box of soil that Galadriel gives Sam, which he uses to restore the trees of the Shire.

7. Lust/Romantic Love

Celegorm became enamoured of [Lúthien]...they purposed to let the King perish, and to keep Lúthien, and force Thingol to give her hand to Celegorm.

Beren: Though all to ruin fell the world, and were dissolved and backward hurled, unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this - the dusk, the dawn, the earth, the sea - that Lúthien for a time should be.

Lust is often regarded simply as a term for physical attraction, and its condemnation as a type of prudishness, but I’m going to present a different take, one that draws on its connection with the two preceding vices (the three are consistently grouped together by Dante). Lust is when the two previous desires, of ownership and consumption/use, are applied not to objects but to a person.

It’s an extremely rare vice among elves, with only a few examples in Elvish history: Celegorm, Eöl, Maeglin. In all cases, there is sexual desire combined with the desire for control, turning to violence when that control is thwarted: Celegorm’s imprisonment of Lúthien in the attempt to force her to marry him, and the later assault on her and Beren; Eöl’s restrictions on Aredhel and murder of her when she leaves him; Maeglin’s attempt to kidnap Idril during the Fall of Gondolin.

In contrast, the examples of romantic love, which are primarily the elf-human couples and especially Beren and Lúthien, combine desire with value for the freedom and identity of the beloved, and with self-sacrifice (or willingness to take on risks) for their sake. Beren’s song before setting out for Angband is a celebration of Lúthien’s existence, irrespective of what may happen to him. Lúthien counters with the expression that she does not want to exist apart from him, and purpose of lovers is to act together and to guard and support each other. Elwing runs through the waves to Eärendil on the shores of Valinor because she would rather face the same risks he does than be safe apart from him. Eärendil accepts immortality for love of Elwing. Arwen accepts death for love of Aragorn.

[valeriehervo]

Valérie Hervo runs Les Chandelles, the legendary Paris sex club where members of French high society, politicians, barristers and rock stars (and an increasing number of Brits) come to indulge their erotic fantasies. Can it survive the twin threats of the pandemic and a moral backlash?

Adam Sage

Saturday March 20 2021, 

Valérie Hervo is outraged. She has just been listening to a radio station where two male presenters, chatting about her forthcoming appearance on their show, kept referring to her as the owner of a “group sex club”.

“That really is low-class vocabulary,” she tells me. “It’s very macho as well. Only a man would say something like that.

“And it is not what this place is about. To me, it is a journey through the mystery of the senses to a land of sensuality and encounters.”

Hervo is particularly aggrieved at what she took to be the implication that she organised sexual games for the benefit of men.

Nothing could be further from the truth, she insists. “Here, everything revolves around women’s pleasure. This is a place where a woman can do what she wants, when she wants and with whom she wants – and if she wants to do nothing, she does nothing.”

Hervo opened Les Chandelles, her recreational club – as she would prefer it described – in 1993, and it has since become a part of French high-society folklore.

Any Parisian will tell you that this is the place where the country’s political, economic and cultural elites live out their sexual fantasies beyond the sight of ordinary mortals, where government ministers, television presenters, rock stars and chief executives engage in the ancient practice of libertinage.

But what exactly goes on behind the plain façade in a narrow street near the Louvre in central Paris? And what might this tell us about French values? Or indeed about British values, given the steady flow of clients rumoured to have crossed the channel in recent years in the hope of fulfilling their “erotic potential” under Hervo’s stewardship?

With telephones barred from the club (they have to be left at the entrance) and hardly anyone willing to talk openly about their evenings there – “It’s a matter of intimacy,” says Hervo. “You don’t start telling everyone about your sex life at dinner parties” – such questions have given rise to few answers and much speculation.

Now, with the club closed because of the pandemic, Hervo, 53, has written a book that explains what happens when the dancefloor empties, usually around 1.30am, and the salons around it fill with writhing, sighing bodies.

Les dessous des Chandelles, which could be translated either figuratively as The Secrets of the Chandelles or literally as Underneath the Candelabras, is the portrait of a quintessentially French establishment.

Where else would the lost property include designer thongs or customers eat Ladurée macarons off the back of a naked woman, a famous male barrister end up in an alcove with his female rival days after their clash in a criminal court, or Mick Jagger reportedly be turned away for wearing a pair of jeans?

Hervo explains that her club is a bastion of French “savoir vivre”, where a select group of beautiful, intelligent and well-educated people conduct themselves in a way befitting a nation that has given the world some of its greatest suggestive literature, from Molière’s Dom Juan to Laclos’ Les liaisons dangereuses.

Consider, for example, her account of one of the Eyes Wide Shut theme parties she holds from time to time. “A naked woman, her gaze hidden by a Venetian mask, lies on a table,” she writes. “A nymph in a transparent toga joins her. She kneels down and delicately pulls her legs apart.”

She has torrid encounters herself, for instance with a woman whose perfume she found bewitching and whose body she discovered behind a veil in an alcove.

Much of her time, however, is spent looking after her patrons, like the couple of regulars who realised to their horror that their adult son and his partner had also begun going to Les Chandelles. Hervo tells how they begged her to help them avoid what they said would be a “regrettable” meeting.

On another occasion, a male customer arrived with his mistress, explaining to Hervo that his wife was stuck at home because she was ill. An hour later, the wife arrived with a younger man, she writes. “Don’t say anything to my husband,” she told Hervo. “He thinks I’ve got the flu.”

Hervo promptly rushed downstairs where she found the husband, “naked and frolicking with his partner and a few other accomplices”. She advised him to leave through the emergency exit.

I am discussing these and more adventures with Hervo at a table in her club’s pink and white restaurant, which is to be found at the bottom of stairs that wind down from an ordinary-looking blue door on the street.

Opposite us is another staircase that leads to what could easily be mistaken for an 18th- century Parisian literary salon – were it not for the mattress in the alcove at the end of it.

A third staircase, encased in walls painted in gold leaf, descends to a dancefloor, a bar and more salons with their alcoves, benches and mattresses.

It is difficult to find an English word to describe Les Chandelles. Some have called it a swingers’ club, although that conveys none of the cerebral sophistication and cultural aspirations that go with elite sex in France.

Others have used the term wife-swapping (or échangisme, as the French call it), but Hervo is no more happier with that than with group sex.

“For me, échangisme is very reductive and sad,” Hervo explains. “It involves some kind of contract between four people and they all need to agree, which can’t happen very often.”

What prevails at her club, she says, is libertinage, a concept dating back to a 12th-century rebellion against the church by disaffected clerics who were determined to place physical love above the courtly version promoted by troubadours and their ilk.

The contemporary version of this philosophy involves making “everything possible and nothing obligatory”, Hervo says.

One couple might go for sex, either with each other or with someone else, she says. A second might go along to watch. A third could be happy with a turn on the dancefloor.

“For some, it is enough to have an imaginary journey. For others, they will want a little bit more. But what happens in the salons is the icing on the cake and it doesn’t matter if nothing happens, because we’ve had such fun with the preliminaries.

“Everyone goes at their own rhythm. You may be happy with a look, a caress or with voyeurism. But that is all very different to échangisme.”

Libertinage, which has come and gone in France over the centuries – the early 17th and the mid-18th being among the high points – enjoyed a return to fashion from the late Nineties with the emergence of hundreds of clubs amid a spirit of unrestrained freedom.

The number has since fallen, with adepts taking to organising their own house parties. At the last count there were 269 such clubs left, according to French state radio.

The health crisis looks likely to drive many more out of business, their activities scarcely being compatible with social distancing.

Les Chandelles, however, has a status apart, and this should offer it protection against the vicissitudes of fortune.

Hervo says her customers include “politicians from both the left and the right” and “celebrities from across the whole world” (she refuses to divulge their names).

Hervo says that as her club’s fame has grown, so has its allure to visitors from Europe, the US, Asia and “a lot from Britain”.

It is not enough just to cross the channel and knock on the door, though. In order to get in, you need erotic knowhow, Hervo says, along with familiarity with Parisian savoir-vivre.

“It is an alchemy. A way of being,” she says.

In his Histoire du libertinage, Didier Foucault, a history lecturer at Toulouse University who is a specialist on the subject, writes of how the practice became fashionable after 1600 among aristocrats driven “by a haughty refusal to bow either to common law or to any authority whatsoever, be it temporal or divine”.

There may be something similar about the French elite that frequents Les Chandelles. The entrance fee is €96 for two, or €310 with dinner and a bottle of Deutz champagne thrown in. If Deutz is too downmarket, there is Cristal Roederer for €490 or Dom Pérignon Rosé for €470.

But the selection policy is not based on money, Hervo insists. More important to her are “elegance, refinement, education and taste.

“I have a very tough door policy. I turn away a lot of people.”

The badly dressed, the ugly, the vulgar, have no hope of getting past her, she says, while the overweight may struggle as well, at least if they are male.

“I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I am going to say it anyway. I think I would be more concerned by a fat man than a round woman. Round women can be very beautiful but, in general, men who are fat are… Well, someone who lets himself go physically is someone who does… not respect himself. And if he doesn’t respect himself, he is less likely to respect other people.”

Les dessous des Chandelles is a strange, almost dual work. On the one hand, it is a window onto this secretive world of privilege and exclusion created by Hervo beneath Rue Thérèse in the French capital.

On the other, it is a tale of the author’s personal voyage through libertinage and her claim that the sexual liberation she found along the way, first in other clubs and then in her own, helped to unshackle her from a traumatic childhood marked by incest, guilt and depression.

Our conversation reflects the same duality.

For much of the interview, Hervo comes across as the archetypal Parisian businesswoman, complete with carefully applied make-up, an elegant hairdo, an articulate discourse, a headstrong Yorkshire terrier and a well-trained fiancé – Tom, the maker of an excellent Sancerre white wine, who rushes off shortly after I arrive and returns later with an armful of her outfits for the photoshoot, including an all-white suit and a glittering jacket.

One minute she is talking with off-putting clarity about the female orgasm, telling me in a tone that brooks no argument that “a woman’s sexuality is so much richer than that of a man”. The next she is explaining, with equal equanimity, how she resisted underworld attempts to take over her club following her divorce in 2005.

Like all self-respecting Parisiennes, she knows how to throw a strategic fit of pique as well, announcing that the photographer is driving her mad and that Tom had better summon a friend for help, and be quick about it. The friend duly arrives with a bottle of sancerre to enable Hervo to get through the afternoon session.

Yet, from time to time, there are signs of the scars left by childhood, as when she concedes that she took refuge in libertinage in part because “at night-time, you can’t see the suffering so much… the glitter masks the pain”.

At one point, her eyes fill with tears as she discloses that her relatives have refused to speak to her since the publication of her book, which recounts her rape by her grandfather as a young girl, her parents’ refusal to believe her, her teenage struggles with depression, her toxic marriage to a man 20-odd years her senior, and her salvation in swingers’ clubs.

It was her former husband who introduced her to libertinage. She writes of her first experience in a club where “in a salon plunged into darkness… some couples are making love while others are observing them”.

She did not want to join in – at least not the first time – but says, “My emotion [was]great and my excitement real.”

“I was 24 and I instinctively knew it was right for me,” Hervo tells me. “What I liked in those places was a feeling of freedom and especially a feeling that I was meeting couples who seemed to get on well together.

“That was not the image of the couple I had received as a child because my parents argued all the time. It was like Disneyland as far as I was concerned.”

When her former husband suggested opening their own swingers’ club in Paris, she jumped at the chance. He put up some of the money, they borrowed the rest and she became the manager.

“It was a success straight away, because I think it was the first club to give so much importance to women,” she says. “At that time, in 1993, in other clubs, the women were just treated as objects and it was the men who took charge of the games and who brought along their wives.

“I think that they were probably men of little courage who were not able to cheat on their wives and who went to this sort of place instead. But that was not at all in the spirit of libertinage.”

Les Chandelles would be different, she decided. “Women who are objects are women without humanity. Here, I made sure that the women were subjects.

“In fact, I created here what I never had myself. I tried to encourage women to take their time, to dare to set the tempo, to ask men to be attentive and unhurried and to be gallant, because women adore gallantry.”

She says her door policy has always involved refusing entrance to couples if she suspects that the woman is being dragged along against her will or kept in the dark about the true nature of Les Chandelles. “Even now in 2021, there are boors who don’t tell their partners where they are taking them,” she says. “It’s increasingly rare but it still happens. But if I have the slightest doubt, I question them. You get a feeling for these things.”

Inside the club, no means no, she says, explaining that men can be expelled for repeating a request to a female customer if they are turned down the first time.

“I think women are much safer in this sort of place than in traditional nightclubs where they get hassled all the time,” she tells me.

She says that she herself came to see Les Chandelles – of which she has been the sole owner since extracting herself from her disastrous marriage 16 years ago and buying her former husband’s share – as a refuge from the wounds left by her troubled childhood.

“This has been my bunker and my incubator,” she says. “It was where I revitalised myself, and where I discovered myself too.”

Can her club really be as idyllic as she pretends?

For years, Les Chandelles has been described in the French press as a favourite haunt of Dominique Strauss-Kahn, the former head of the International Monetary Fund, who resigned following his arrest on suspicion of rape. Although the charge was ultimately dropped, reports of his attendance at Les Chandelles have done nothing for its image.

Recently, it has also been linked with Gérald Darminin, President Macron’s interior minister, who, it has emerged, went to Les Chandelles in 2009 with a woman who had asked him for help in overturning her criminal conviction – he was legal affairs adviser for an opposition political party at the time – and who has accused him of raping her later that evening.

He denies her claim, but the publicity has scarcely been an advertisement for Hervo’s establishment.

She says the coverage has been misleading and unfair. DSK, for instance, barely ever visited Les Chandelles, she insists.

“There are many other politicians who came more often than him and who were much more important than him,” she says.

As for Darmanin, she says that when he dropped into the club a little over a decade ago, he was a young bachelor, and that young bachelors sometimes visit “for an evening with – what’s that word they use now? – oh yes, les sex friends, that’s it.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. If you find yourself on your own for a year or so, you might want a regular one of those. Why not?”

Until now, the interview has gone smoothly enough, interrupted only by the barking of Cerise, Hervo’s Yorkshire terrier, at the emergence of the photographer from below.

But then I make a big mistake. Noting the entrance policy favours single women – who are allowed in on evenings otherwise reserved for couples, when single men are banned – I ask Hervo whether she uses them as an enticement for male patrons seeking a threesome with their wives and another partner.

She looks daggers across the table. “That is really a stupid, male, Cro-Magnon thing to say,” she tells me. “It’s very maladroit of you.

“Single women come because they want to have fun, because they could meet a man who pleases them, or a woman, or perhaps neither. Sometimes, it’s just two women friends who come for a drink because they know that here they won’t be bothered and because they will be appreciated because they are pretty.

“When I began here, I didn’t receive single women in the evening, because society considered that a woman who came alone to an establishment like mine was either a whore or a bitch. I fought to make people understand that life does not work like that, and I am proud to say that today I have single women among my customers.”

I ask Hervo if she is a feminist. “I certainly am not a neo-feminist,” she says, explaining that she laughs off wolf whistles in the street, likes being complimented on her looks and wants to “seduce or to be seduced, freely. But I am feminist for some things. I am in favour of women being able to experience pleasure alone at first, to discover their bodies and to enjoy their bodies, and only afterwards to share all that with a partner if they so wish.

“That sort of thing has not always been possible in the past.”

Pointing out that Foucault’s history of libertinage shows how sexual freedoms have come and gone over the centuries in France, I wonder out loud whether the country is shifting back towards greater restraint.

“You’re right, it is,” she says. “The difference is that today, it is not religion that is trying to cover everything up, it’s our moralising society. There is a very prudish scent around these days.”

In a thinly veiled attack on #MeToo, she complains in her book that the social networks have been transformed into “popular tribunals”, that the law has come to treat women “as weak beings which have to be protected” and that the ancestral French game of seduction is being subjected to new codes and new rules.

It is difficult to determine whether the pandemic will brake or accelerate this trend. Some predict that when the crisis ends, we will see a repeat of les années folles (the mad years), as the Twenties were known in France, with a yearning for freedom, parties and libertinage.

Others forecast the continued spread of the Anglo-Saxon-style feminism that Hervo abhors and the curtailment of French love-making and seduction. She is not overly worried, though. On a personal level, she has emerged from years of therapy able to confront her past and look forward to the future, she says. She has become a part-time therapist herself, has a house in the country, where she has spent much of the past year, and is planning to “marry the man I love” this summer.

Even if the moral backlash gathers strength, she thinks that Les Chandelles will continue to triumph.

“There have always been currents and countercurrents, but if society goes one way, people will need a place of liberty where they can do what they want, where they will have the freedom to talk, to exchange.”

Indeed, she believes that her club may even come to play a role similar to that of literary salons in the 18th century, when they nurtured the ideas that helped to topple the ancien régime.

Only in France could there be dreams of Enlightenment amid the shadows of a basement sex club. Les dessous des Chandelles by Valérie Hervo is published by Cherche Midi

[waywardfamilywrites]

Second Scent

Title: Second Scent

Author: Themis // Beta & Header by Epione // Divider by @firefly-graphics​

Word Count: 1604

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Alpha!Fem!Reader x Castiel

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, ABO dynamics, unpresented angel

Summary: You’re an alpha. You meet someone who has no secondary presentation. When you start to fall for him, will the complications be too much or will you figure it out? A/N: This is my first piece for WFW and my first ABO dynamics. I hope it lives up to your expectations, anon!

It was hard being an alpha female. Omega women were scared of me and alpha men weren’t trusting. Even betas steered clear for the most part. Except one.

Castiel. He was a special case, though. Cas was an angel on earth -- literally. Wings, halo, powers. An actual angel. You guessed it wasn’t fair to consider him a beta since he didn’t really ‘present’ like the rest of humankind. His vessel was a male primary sex, but no secondary traits. He didn’t smell alpha, omega, or beta. He just smelled like Cas. That’s what caught your attention for the first time.

You were walking home from work one evening when this dark haired, blue eyed man started walking next to you.

“Don’t freak out,” he told me, “But there are some men following you. I can sense they have ill intentions.” He continued walking beside you and you turned your head to look at him. 

“I smelled them a couple of blocks back,” you replied, sniffing deeply. “They’re also not exactly quiet. I do appreciate the gesture, but I’m an alpha. It wouldn’t be a fair fight with the two betas back there.”

“Oh.” The man looked sheepish as he walked next to you with his hands in his trench coat pocket. 

“What, exactly, are you?” you asked. “I can’t smell a secondary sex on you.”

“I’m an angel of the Lord.” He responded so quickly and so confidently that for a moment you thought he was joking. However, when you looked at him, his face was deadly serious and his blue eyes were shining with electricity.

“An angel. A real, honest-to-Jack angel?” As confident as he was, you weren’t exactly a believer.

“How do you know the Lord’s name is Jack?” he questioned, cocking his head to the side and looking at you intently.

“Um, I didn’t. I was talking about the liquor.” He looked even more confused when you told him that so you attempted to clarify. “Jack Daniels?”

“Does Jack Daniels make you honest?”

“Yes. Yes it does,” you confirmed with a chuckle. The pair of you walked along in silence for a few blocks before you spoke again. “What’s an angel of the Lord doing here anyway?”

“I’m attempting to take care of a threat to humankind. I got distracted when I suspected you could be in danger.” His confident words were at odds with his nervous fidgeting as you walked.

“Wait, I distracted an angel of the Lord?” You stopped and put your hand on his arm, causing him to stop and turn towards you. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be hyper-focused?”

The angel chuckled. “That’s not true. We don’t feel the things that humans do but we do still get distracted by beautiful people.”

“Smooth. So is there something else I can call you? Angel sounds a little...intimate for someone I’ve just met.” 

“Castiel. My name is Castiel,” the angel told you with a close-lipped smile. 

Cas kept showing up when you were walking alone. Sometimes he would pass it off as a coincidence but other times he would admit that he was waiting for you. Instead of being creepy, you found it endearing, somehow. After a few weeks of this, you asked him to dinner.

“Angels don’t eat, Y/N. Dinner would be impractical,” he told you.

“Okay, maybe I can rephrase that. Would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” You hoped that being plain in your meaning would entice him to confirm, or deny, that he felt some kind of connection to you.

The confused tilt of his head led you to understand that he still had no idea what you meant. You chuckled at his squinted eyes and furrowed brow and tried to explain further.

“Castiel, I feel like there’s a connection between the two of us. I’d like to spend some time together exploring that connection,” you told him.

“Oh. I suppose there is something. I enjoy spending time with you but I want you to know that there are no sexual urges. I haven’t felt the need for sex since I returned to this plane of existence,” he replied. 

“Noted. Shall we continue our walk then?” You were hopeful that his confirmation that there was something was….something. 

You and Cas dated for several weeks but he still hadn’t given you a straight yes or no on feelings. You, however, were falling for him. Hard. One night, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Cas?” you called, getting the attention of the blue-eyed angel. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he responded, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you lifted your head and pressed your lips to his. He was surprised, but you felt his lips move against yours, his hand wrapping around your neck while his other arm snaked around your waist. 

You slipped your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck. When you couldn’t wait for breath any longer, you pulled back, slowly fluttering your eyes open to see Cas gazing at you with a soft smile.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I think I’m in love with you, Castiel,” you whispered, hoping that he wouldn’t be scared off. The idea that he could reciprocate your feelings, however, was just a dull speck of hope. You’d settle for anything, as long as he’d stick around.

“Y/N, I…” he started, trailing off, trying to find the right words.

You loosened your arms from his neck and tried to step back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” 

You were cut off by Cas pressing his lips back to yours, effectively stopping you from talking. He pulled back after a moment, his gaze still soft, the smile still on his face. “I was going to say that you’ve reawakened urges and feelings that I’ve long since accepted as dead. I believe there is a high probability that I’m falling in love with you. But I have concerns about your alpha presentation.”

“Cas, I don’t want pups. Ever. I couldn’t be happier that you haven’t presented as an omega, or even a beta. It wouldn’t matter anyway because even if I did want those things, I’d want them with you.” You smiled at your angel boyfriend as you pulled him down into another kiss. This time, you ran your tongue across his lips and he parted them, allowing you to slip inside his mouth.

You moaned into his mouth and pushed him backwards towards your couch. He sat back with a huff and you straddled his lap. You wrapped your fingers into his hair and tipped his head backwards. Your lips met with his in a heated, passionate kiss, your tongues exploring each others’ mouths, his hands trailing down your sides lightly to rest on your waist.

You ground your hips against his, making him groan into your mouth. Detaching your lips from his, you kissed your way down his neck, your hands making their way to the buttons of his shirt and loosening them. As soon as the buttons were free, you slid his shirt from his shoulders. He looked up at you with hooded eyes, pupils blown with lust, lips parted. His hands slipped under your shirt and lifted it over your head. 

Your hands trailed down Cas’s chest to his belt, making quick work of the buckle and unbuttoning his pants as his hands fumbled to remove your bra. You yanked his pants and boxers down his thighs and quickly removed your own as well before settling back on his lap, your knees on each side of his thighs.

“Cas, are you sure about this?” you asked him. “I don’t want to push you to do something you don’t really want.”

“No, Y/N. You’re in my life for a reason. If that reason is to reignite feelings in this vessel that I didn’t think I could feel anymore, then I’m happy with that.” Cas licked his lips and pulled you down towards him. “I want you. All of you.” He pressed his lips to yours and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

You rose up on your knees and lined his cock up with your dripping entrance and sank down, slowly filling yourself with his dick. Cas’s eyes fluttered shut and his mouth hung open at the sensation of your wet heat surrounding his cock. You stilled once you had taken his entire length. 

Placing your hands on his shoulders, you slowly lifted along his shaft until just the tip remained inside. You slid back down, rolling your hips to grind your clit against his pelvis. You set a steady pace, alternating bouncing and grinding, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot just right with every thrust. 

Your climax built quickly and you could feel your knot swelling. “Cas,” you panted, “Want you to come with me.” 

“‘M close,” he gasped.

“Take my knot, Cas.” You felt him respond to your words, his seed filling you up as your release triggered your knot. You cried out, throwing your head back in ecstasy, and stilled. You rested your head on Cas’s shoulder and panted as you both came down from your highs.

Cas wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You could feel his pulse under your cheek, your hearts pounding with the same rhythm. 

You spoke first, sitting back onto his lap and looking into his eyes, your foreheads pressed against each other. “I love you, Castiel.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.” 

[libsterslobsters]

The Battle of Evermore

A Bucky Barnes fanfic

Summary: Set during the events of Captain America: Civil War. Bucky and the reader's worst nightmare has come true: they're captured, and there's nothing even Steve Rogers can do... or is there?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! reader

(reader sees shards of the future, can understand every language, and processes information quickly)

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, self-loathing, Civil War spoilers, language

Author's note: The female character's name is never given so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I've written so much about her and Bucky that I've named her Violet. Still working on a last name. If you have any suggestions, comment below.

*************************************************

It’s not exactly unexpected, them having to fight their way out. Steve always hopes for the best, but prepares for the worst, especially when it involves The Winter Soldier, or as he knows him, Bucky Barnes. But still, the last thing he’s expecting when his best friend crashes through the door of an apartment several storeys below is to barely catch (and if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, it’s guaranteed he would’ve missed it altogether) a woman hiss,

“Buck, what the hell-”

“Get out of here. Now.”

Again, he’s known the guy for years, had him bust up enough back-alley fights in their day, so he knows Bucky tends to have a flare for the dramatic when it comes to any sort of altercation, but it still seems a little overboard, the moves he’s pulling out to kick these hostile’s sorry tails. That is, until he’s out of the building and sees a hooded figure, small enough that his first guess would be female, waiting in a dark corner. That’s when it clicks: a diversion. But how did she manage- She takes off running, cutting his internal questioning short, and when her sweatshirt rides up, he sees a harness around her waist, carabiner still attached, and rope burns on her hands. That answers that.

All thoughts of whoever the strange woman was are pushed aside in the pursuit that follows. In fact, Steve’s almost forgotten about her until they’re being loaded into armored cars like criminals (which, he supposes, they are now), and as they’re leading Bucky away, he freezes on the spot, not budging for a full ten seconds despite his guards doing their best to get him moving again. Steve follows his line of sight to yet another car window, and then he realizes why Bucky suddenly looked so defeated. They got her too.

On the ride back to base, Bucky’s separated from the rest of them, but the woman is thrown in with him, Sam, and T’Challa, since apparently, Rhodey’s decided she’s not a threat. Either that, or he’s hoping being stuck with the men she was trying to escape will rattle her enough that, once they’ve landed, she’ll talk. If Steve had to venture a guess, he’d say that won’t work; if the way she keeps her eyes down and ignores anyone speaking to her wasn’t enough to indicate that she’s not playing ball, his knowledge that her escaping the building wasn’t a matter of chance (no, his bet’s on both of them having prepared for something like this in advance, how else can you account for the diversion and her rappelling down the side of the building) would do the trick. Just before they’re led into the building, he slides past her, and murmurs, “Steve Rogers. Don’t answer their questions. I’ll find you later.” It’s brief, but her eyes flick up to study him, then back down again, and he takes that as acknowledgment.

It’s a lot of hassle, a lot of questions, and a lot of paperwork. He’s half-way expecting to be put in a cell, but after a good two hours, he’s remanded to a room to wait. About an hour later, Sam is escorted in as well. After the routine questions (are you okay, what did you say to them, what did they say to you), Sam finally lands on the immediate issue at hand.

“Cap, who the hell’s the girl?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

That’s not entirely true. He’s had a good amount of time to think it over, and he’s narrowed the possibilities down. The first thing he considered was, as unlikely as it seems at first blush, the girl is Bucky’s daughter. Who knows if they’ve sent out the Winter Soldier for things other than assassinations. He could’ve been asked to extract information in ways that don’t include the use of excessive force. Steve almost immediately rules that one out. She doesn’t look enough like him for that possibility. Age wouldn’t necessarily be a factor considering Bucky’s been on and off ice for the past seventy years. Still, the dynamic felt… off, somehow. His bet’s on not related at all.

His second thought is a partner. Someone else who’s escaped Hydra and is now hiding out. Well, considering that she got caught (and if the rope burns are anything to judge from, she’s no expert at quick escapes), that seems unlikely as well. They get along, obviously, and she has to be important, or else he wouldn’t have risked so much to give her time to get away, so possibly a friend. Still, that level of devastation upon seeing her captured? That seems a little more intense than an average acquaintanceship.

That leaves only one possibility; a romantic entanglement. A part of Steve is happy for Bucky. He’s had a whole lot of miserable in his life so far. He deserves to find some joy. Another part of him is rolling it’s eyes at the fact that, even in hiding when he really should be keeping to himself, his best friend managed to find himself in the company of a pretty girl. The biggest part, however, is scared. If this is serious (and all things considered, it’d be foolish to think otherwise), this girl is yet another liability, another complication in vindicating Bucky.

As he’s discussing things with Sharon, he realizes that he can see the feed from the girl’s cell as well as Bucky’s. The volume is turned down low, but if he concentrates, he can hear her.

“Please, if anyone is listening, you have to stop that doctor. He’s not who he says he is!” Steve brushes it off as hysterics. That is, until it dawns on him that she’d have no way of knowing about the doctor interviewing Bucky.

“God! You people! I’ve been hiding from this fucking government since I was eighteen years old! Now that you’ve got me behind bars, the least you could do is listen! I’m telling you, he’s not who he says he is! Don’t let him in the room with Barnes! It’s a mistake! People are going to die!” That makes him wonder…

“Sharon, do you have a file on the girl?”

She shakes her head.

“Not that I know of, but I also haven’t looked. She’s just some random Romanian woman, right?” That’s what he thought, but now he’s not so sure. Her accent… she sounds American. “Couldn’t even get her name out of her. My guess would be that she’s insane. All she’d tell us is that we’re making a big mistake and people are going to die because of it.”

He’s about to say something more, but that’s when the lights are cut.

The battle that follows leaves little time to think of anything other than capturing Bucky before the other side does (oh, and trying to survive themselves), but in the brief lull after they come out of the river, he manages to tell Sam,

“Spring the girl.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. I have a hunch.” One that admittedly doesn’t make much sense, but then again, that seems to be the way his life works.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“It was a mistake. I told them so.” Sam’s inclined to believe the same as Sharon when he approaches the high-security cell with a pacing woman inside. “A fucking mistake. And now there’s a bunch of dead people topside and Barnes is who knows where, probably either with a couple bullet holes in him or else a couple bullet holes in the other guys.” She has to be crazy. She’s talking to herself. But how does she know- “I see the damn future, for fuck’s sake!” Well, that explains that.

It seems like she’s worn herself out because, her back against the wall, she slides down slowly to the floor as if her legs have given out from under her.

“I see the future, and I still couldn’t save him.” Great. He’s been sent to extract a homicidal maniac’s fortune-telling girlfriend. Awesome.

“Yeah, well-” She startles, cracking her head on the glass wall. “-unless you want a really bad headache, I’d get against the back wall right now if I were you, because I’m about to bust you out of here.”

“Who are you?” If he blasts the control panel… as a last resort, he could quite literally blow out the wall.

“A friend of Steve Rogers.” Sent to collect her crazy ass. The least she could do is stop glaring at him. “And I meant what I said about that headache. Get back and cover your ears.”

Finally, she moves, but not before shooting back,

“If you’re lying, just be aware that I won’t hesitate to kick you in the family jewels so hard, you’ll sing soprano.” Well, that’s comforting.

For a high-security facility, the locks go down fairly easily. Still, he hesitates before opening the door. “I’ll let you out so long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself and your crazy away from me, deal?”

She snorts.

“Can’t promise anything about the crazy because it comes and goes, but I won’t touch you. Good enough?” Can he really say no?

“Yeah. Whatever.” He allows the door to open, jumping out of the way just in case.

Now that she’s out of her cage, she looks considerably less nuts. Still, he’s not taking any chances.

“Rogers told me to spring you while he rounded up your boyfriend. He’s gone psycho, by the way.” If he was expecting a reaction, he’s disappointed. She just sighs.

“I was afraid of that. They turned a good man into a weapon.” Alright, ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t exactly call Barnes a good man…

“What’s your name?” She just raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.” Sam doesn’t have time for this.

“Well, whatever your name is, stick close. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to shut up, you shut up. Got it?” Not waiting for an answer, he starts making his way out of the building.

He’s halfway expecting her to make a break for it the second his back is turned but, five sharp turns and a handful of sudden stops later, she’s still right behind him. Well, at the very least, her crazy hasn’t affected her ability to follow directions.

Trouble finally finds them when they attempt to sneak out the proverbial back door. Sam doesn’t even have a chance to shout at her to hide or run between incapacitating various guards, and by the time he remembers he’s supposed to be looking out for Barnes’ girlfriend, there’s an unconscious man laying by her side and she’s got the business end of a gun turned on another, who’s kneeling in front of her with his hands up.

“Don’t shoot him!” As he says it, her foot makes contact with the man’s chin, and he drops.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

She still hasn’t let go of the weapon. Alright, he needs to defuse this situation as fast as possible (oh, and without getting himself killed).

“You wanna put the gun down, What’s-your-face?”

“Nope. I’m hanging onto it.” As she says it, she checks the bullets. “Don’t worry. I know how to use it.” How is that supposed to keep him from worrying?

“Yeah well, keep it pointed away from me.” Is she rolling her eyes? Great. He’s dealing with an overgrown teenager.

“Safety’s on anyway.” He’s starting to think that between the knocked out cold super soldier and the awake and definitely dangerous crazy lady, he’s wishing he had Steve’s job.

“Come on.”

He only manages to run a few more steps before she asks,

“Where are we going?”

He’s not entirely sure, but he goes with what he’s almost certain will bring her along.

“To Barnes.” Sure enough, she doesn’t say anything else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Once she arrives at… wherever the hell they are… she’s instructed to wait where she is and keep her mouth shut. Normally she’d inform whoever’s telling her that to stick it directly up their ass, but Bucky warned her time and again about what he could inadvertently do to her if he was activated, and considering Steve Rogers has the same capabilities, she’s not going to chance it. That, and Mr. “Keep your crazy away from me” seems a little testy, even if she does still have her gun (the fact that they haven’t taken it from her says more than enough about how secure they both feel in their ability to overpower her). No, she’ll bide her time. For now, it’s enough that she knows where Barnes is and that he’s mostly okay, if having a long snooze.

Eventually he does come around, and the conversation that follows both chills her to the bone and breaks her heart. He’s matter-of-fact about everything, calmly explaining to Steve and Sam (she finally overhears his name) what they’re up against, what those terrible people have made of him and so many others, but the guilt he feels is clear, at least to her. Alright, that’s it. She’s not going to sit still and be quiet any longer. She’ll just have to be smart about it.

Once Sam steps out to call whoever it is he knows that can help him, she starts to creep forward, slowly, deliberately, careful to avoid making noise. She’s almost there, about to leave the refuge of hiding behind a piece of broken down heavy machinery, when she hears something that makes her stop short.

“Who’s the girl, Buck?” This ought to be interesting. It was necessary to have a conversation about what they would do if one or the other of them was captured at any point in time, have a plan in place, but since this is Steve Rogers, she has no idea what the answer will be.

“Call her a personal attachment.” It’s a good answer. Vague, not giving too much away.

“Yeah, I figured that much out myself. Wanna give me a little more information?”

There’s a long pause, then-

“She’s important. The same way Peggy’s important to you.” That makes no sense to her, but it must appease Steve.

“I’m glad. You deserve that.” She’s definitely missing something here. “What’s her name?” That’s when she chooses to step forward.

They both turn towards her as she gives her name. “You should also know that I only give people one opportunity to tell me what to do. You and Sam already used yours.”

Steve glances back at Bucky, who shrugs, smirking.

“Don’t look at me. I used mine up two years ago.” A wave of relief courses through her. His sense of humor is still there, at least.

Steve nods. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I still have a question, though.” She indicates that it’s okay. “Are you gonna be as much of a pain in the neck as he is?” A joke, or at least she thinks it is.

“Only if I can’t be a bigger one.” If the laugh is any indication, she was right.

“I have a question too.” This time Bucky’s the one asking as Steve sets about freeing his arm. “Doll, where’d you get the gun?”

She decides to go with the truth, but a lighter version of it.

“A nice guard gave it to me.”

“Oh, he gave it to you, huh?”

She nods, slowly approaching him.

“Yes. It’s amazing how accommodating people can be once you’ve elbowed them in the ribs and kneed them in the groin.”

With a groan of metal, he’s free. As Steve helps him to his feet, he asks,

“What exactly did you teach her?”

“A few things. The rest she’d learned before me.” Yeah, well, you don’t spend your life running and hiding without learning how to defend yourself. Although, from the look of things, the company she’s fallen into could crush her without breaking a sweat.

After exchanging a few more words, Steve excuses himself, leaving her alone with the man she’s been so worried about. The atmosphere immediately changes, all attempts on both of their parts to seem unaffected, strong, gone to the wayside as he opens his arms and she folds herself into them.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, not lifting it from where it’s buried in his chest.

“No. I was locked up the whole time. Sam sprang me loose.” She can feel some of the tension leak out of him as he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. If you’d stayed-” Not waiting for him to finish his thought, she reaches up and taps the back of his head.

“Shut up. If you’d left without me, you know I’d just have gone to find you and gotten myself into even more trouble.”

He chuckles.

“You do have a way of doing that.”

Neither of them say much for the next few minutes, just concentrating on, in this brief moment, being together. Finally, with a sigh, Bucky separates himself from her and holds her at arm’s length.

“Look at me.”

It’s an abrupt segue, and she frowns.

“I need to make sure this is getting through that pretty and incredibly hard head of yours, because it’s important.” Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she meets his eyes. “If they activate me again, drop any weapons you have, get on your knees, and put your hands up.”

“What-”

“I don’t know much about how all of it works, but I do know that when I’m like that, I’ll ignore you if you don’t present a threat. It’s a shitty solution, but it’s the only way I can think of to half-way make sure you’re safe.” She’s about to protest (he’s with Steve now, whoever that not-a-doctor was is gone, no one’s going to activate him, and even though she knows what he can do, she refuses to be afraid of him), but it’s an old argument, and he cuts her off before she can even get started. “Promise me, Doll. Please.” He’s pleading with her, she realizes. As much as she hates it, the only thing she can do is agree.

“I will, but only if you promise to come back in one piece.” She begs her mind to memorize that smile, every single detail of it, just in case this is their last goodbye.

“It’s a deal.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

He’s drained, utterly and completely. That’s not a way Bucky is used to feeling, but after the past few days and all they’ve held (not to mention going in and out of being the Winter Soldier, never knowing who he’s hurt this time), he has to admit that he’s beat, even if it’s just to himself.

It’s all a blur: captured, activated, back to normal, battle, another battle, and now on a hellicarrier, waiting to go to a small African country he’d never heard of a week ago. If he examines each event closely, he can remember it in full, but why in the hell would he want to do that, especially after the encounter with Stark?

The one bright spot in the maze is that he knows she’s safe, holed up in what used to be a SHIELD safe house (he balked at the idea, as did she, but Steve assured them both that it was abandoned, completely safe), waiting for the all-clear to return to Romania. He’d wondered, with everyone except Steve and himself locked up who would tell her it’s safe to leave, but when Natasha helped them escape, she looked him dead in the eyes and informed him, “I’ll look after her, too.”. He still wonders how she knew where Steve chose as a location, but his best friend told him it’s best not to question how the spy gets her information.

The doors open once again, but he doesn’t look up.

“You look a little worse for wear.”

Even with the super serum, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash, turning his head towards the familiar voice.

“I thought I told you to come back in one piece.”

No, he’s not kidding himself. His senses aren’t fooling him. It’s her. She’s here.

“I did.” She chuckles as she settles into the seat next to him. “More or less.”

Completely ignoring the fact that he’s filthy, covered in at least ten different kinds of muck, she takes his hand in hers. He allows himself the comfort of having her next to him, enjoying the warmth, not just of her body but her presence, before asking,

“Doll, what are you doing here?”

“What I’m usually doing.” She stretches out her legs in front of her as far as they’ll go, then toes off her shoes. “Following you around like a lost puppy.” No, that’s definitely him. Can’t bring himself to stay away even though she’d be safer if he left and never came back. Once upon a time, he fooled himself into believing that so long as he stayed hidden, nobody said those key words, he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d be safer with him to protect her (she can defend herself, sure, but there’s far nastier things out there than just common criminals) than on her own, and besides, she wants him to stay. Now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter that the Winter Soldier never laid a finger on her. He’s hurt her just from being who he is, sure as he left bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the first night they ever spent together doing something more than sleeping. Well, that ends now. He has to be strong, for her sake.

“I’m not going back to Romania.”

“I know.” She nods. “We’re going to Wakanda.” Here comes the hard part. He can do it. He has to.

“Not “we”. Just me.” It takes a moment, but recognition dawns on her face.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

She says it calmly, but he can tell that inside, she’s already starting to crumble. He should say yes. He’s absolutely telling her to leave. He loves her, god, does he ever, and you don’t hurt the people you love. You protect them, even if that means keeping them away from you. But, even as he prepares to tell her that, he knows the truth.

“Would it do any good if I did?”

“If it was because you truly didn’t want me around, then yes. If it was some self-sacrificing bullshit, then no.”

And there’s the crux of it. He can never tell her to go and truly mean it, just as he could never leave her side without her telling him she wants him gone. He’s simply not that strong, not that noble. Still, he has to try.

“You saw what I did.”

“Yeah, I did.” He feels her sag against his shoulder. “And my opinion hasn’t changed. I’m not afraid of you, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier? Okay, he’s a scary guy, and I’ll be cautious around him, but I trust you.” Her fingers tighten around his. “I love you. That stays the same.”

He swallows hard, trying to get control of himself. There will be a time to put down all his armor, show her how damn tired he is, how if he’s being honest with himself, he just wants to let her take care of him, but not while they’re having this conversation.

“I’m going on ice as soon as we reach Wakanda.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be standing by, pestering them to make sure they do a good job getting what Hydra put in your head back out again.” She tugs gently at his hair. “For now, just relax. It’s only the two of us here. You’ve had a hard couple of days, so just rest.”

He starts to protest that he’s fine, she’s the one who should be decompressing, but then her fingers start working through the hair at his scalp. “You’re safe, Buck. It’s all going to work out.”

“Did you have a vision?” The last thing he sees as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall into her lap is her smile.

“No. Some things you don’t need to see the future to know.”

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXXVI: Winds of Change

I

Early spring, the rustle of the reeds against a gentle breeze. An indentation made among several rows of them as I lay, pressed into the damp soil. Arms under my head, eyes closed, thoughts floated away, just as they ought to. There were many reasons to worry, many wrongs to correct, and many mysteries to solve. But none of those things could happen unless I allowed myself a moment’s rest.

What of the others? Did I abandon them? No. But I wasn’t meant to stay for very long, it just wasn’t who I was. By nature, I was a drifter. By trade, almost, if such a thing were possible in the current age.

Ray gave me a phone so that he could call whenever things got bad again. It was like an ebb and flow, little tremors. Sometimes the activity would quiet down, but not long enough for anyone to think that the nightmares were over. Then they would build back up and people would show up with gashes, scrapes, bruises, all over their bodies with no explanation. Some reported whispers and little shadows that resembled people, but not quite. Whenever it slowed down, I went away again and found some place to hide out.

Why? Well, let’s just say I had my suspicions that I was just as much a target as were Ray and the others. Just the simple fact that an anonymous letter requested my death was enough to warrant such a suspicion. Ha. If whoever was behind that note wanted me so bad, they should have just fought me themselves. No games, no beating around the bush. My time could come any day now, but if someone wanted to take this life from me, by all means. But they ought to expect a fight.

Speaking of notes, there was one which was left for me that night when I met Remora in that abandoned building (well, not so much “abandoned” now, as I managed to get the electricity working before I left. Tragic as it may be, that was all I could do before I left and things turned south for me. I guess too many tip offs and “authorities” grew suspicious. So I bailed, as I often did, and I could only hope that those homeless friends I met weren’t so homeless, even if there was so much more I could have done had I managed to stay). It had Ray and Sunny’s address, as well as the phone number of the one who killed Rhea.

When I awoke, the piece of paper had been next to me, and curious, I picked it up. As soon as I looked over the contents, I scoffed, let out a little laugh.

“She’s really insistent, isn’t she?” I shook my head as I mused to myself. On the back of the paper was a further explanation of the events which transpired between ‘Ves’ and Rhea:

“Ves told me the story at the bar. Not that I needed to know the details from her, I already had an idea. Her original name was Etna Modelo. If that name rings a bell, it’s because she was part of the original ‘ETNA’ project. She had begun to grow unstable as the part of her that housed the angel of happiness clashed with the part of her that was human. Such a clash had adverse effects on those around her. The other ‘R’ and Douglas Fir were tasked with removing her from the world. Both met their end, although Ves seemed rather mournful of ‘R’ when we met, and although cured, it’s evident that the ordeal still effects her.

As I wasn’t there, I don’t know the full story, so I would still recommend asking her yourself. Your call, though. I’d just like to move on from it.”

Remora probably wrote that figuring I wouldn’t want to contact Ves myself. Yes, ‘Etna’, I’ve heard of her before: the girl on the run, the experiment, the artificial doctor. All of her incarnations. Hotheaded, explosive, short-tempered were all words that were used to describe her in reports and between eavesdrops of idle gossip from those who were aware of The Flashbulb’s pet project.

I considered contacting her, but felt it best not to. We were strangers, and she probably wanted to move on from such a thing as well. Besides, that was all I needed to know. Maybe whatever angel was with us now came here because they sensed one of their kin? Who the hell knew?

Rather than solve some cosmic mystery, some existential threat, I was instead relaxed in the fields of a small town in Idaho. As of late, I’ve been staying with this middle-aged man named Cleaver in his little shack. Two hammocks hung inside, he slept below, I above. Next to him was a wolf who he named Mange. Not my first choice of names for a wolf, but it wasn’t my place to judge.

I got up and stretched.

Still early in the day; a crisp air, a cerulean hue in the sky. Everything was early, yet not. As I made my way back to the shack, I caught a glimpse of cleaver with his sagged, sunken face and his potbelly hanging low out from his white T-shirt. Scruff all over his face, gray hairs all over.

“Fancy day for a squirrel barbecue,” he scratched his chin and announced in a low voice.

“Ha. You and your meals,” I replied as I brushed aside some tall grass. “You do realize there’s a restaurant nearby, right?”

“Bah! You just don’t get it, Zephyr: that shit costs money. You know, our ancestors got by just fine without money.”

What makes you think your ancestors are my ancestors?

“Sure, but are you really gonna subsist on corn and rodents?” I retorted.

“Hey, if it tastes good and it doesn’t kill me, what does it matter?”

I put my hands in my pockets and shrugged my shoulders. Fair, I guess.

My swords were laid inside his shack. Mange knew better than to knock them down. When it came to food, I had two options: The Garage Cafe, or run 8 miles to the nearest city and get some Wendy’s.

“I might be gone for a few hours,” I mentioned, “so see you later in the afternoon?”

“You know I don’t care where you go,” he waved off. That was something I liked about staying with him, is that neither of us ever minded the other’s business. He reminded me of an old man I once knew who I also crashed with. Rather literally, but I’d rather not get into that. He was kind enough, and I might not have survived without the help, but it was clear he wouldn’t last. I was just glad that I got to see off that old man. That was a few hundred years ago, but memories were funny that way, how they didn’t care how long ago something was, just how important they could have been.

Before I could depart to Wendy’s (let’s be real, while I knew it was junk food, I couldn’t help but love that place because of its name), I heard the sound of shoes against soft soil, someone running, and their short breaths.

Sounds of Mange’s growls could be heard from inside the shack. I scanned the area until I spotted the source of the running: a young woman, about a foot shorter than I, with messy, shoulder-length blonde hair. Still, there was no denying that I recognized that face.

“Fi...finally,” she huffed and hunched over to catch her breath once she approached me. “I found you. You wouldn’t believe how difficult it was to find you.”

Tell me about it.

I blinked. I opened my mouth, then closed it. It took a while before I could figure out what I wanted to say.

“How did you find me?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I asked some of your friends in Chicago. Otis, I think was his name, told me how you said you were headed to Caldwell, Idaho. So I went there, asked around, and apparently an employee at the Wendy’s there says she’s seen you head over toward Notus.”

“Dammit, Otis,” I cursed under my breath.

Really, it’s my own fault for telling anyone where I’d be heading. I just figured after I returned from Ray’s diner that I’d check in on how some of those folks were doing.

“You know this girl, Zephyr?” Cleaver called over.

“Yeah. She’s fine. Tell your dog to knock it off,” I called back over to him.

“MANGE! SHUT IT!” Cleaver yelled to the shack. There was a low whimper, then nothing after that.

“Zephyr?” She asked.

“Yeah. That’s my name now. Demetria, was it?” I asked right back.

“Mm-hmm. That much hasn’t changed.”

I studied her but nothing looked all that different from when I met her. If she had an air about her that was different, I didn’t sense it.

“So, Demetria, what can I do for you? It’s clear you wanted me for something, but for what, I don’t know.”

She straightened up her stance and looked up at me, a more resolute expression took hold on her face. One which said that she was ready to get right down to business.

“I want you train me,” she stated.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me: I want to hone my skills with the blade.”

I puffed up my cheeks, desperate not to break into laughter.

“What?! You think I’m some wise, old master? Do you expect me to take you on as a pupil, and at the end bow and go ‘you have done well, my student?’ Is that it?”

“If that’s what you want to do, go ahead. But I’m serious.”

That much was obvious, but it still didn’t make sense to me.

“Why do you think I’d be a good fit to train you?” I questioned.

“Because our weapons of choice are similar. The way you fight, act, react, every movement has a purpose and it’s like you’re ready for anything. You don’t leave yourself with openings. If I had to pick someone whose style of attack was similar to my own, it would have to be you. Meanwhile, I’m reckless, less refined, and don’t know what I’m doing half of the time.”

“OK. But is there a particular reason why you want to be trained so bad?”

“Because I want to learn restraint.”

That still wasn’t good enough. I felt like I was missing the full picture, and despite how plain her answers were, it was like she was holding back, or avoiding giving anything away.

“Restraint, huh? And you think me, the cop killer, can teach you that?”

I glanced behind me. Cleaver didn’t seem to react to what I said. Strange, I thought that he would have. But I guess he figured it just wasn’t his business.

“You’re right,” she replied, “but I never said I wanted to be you, nor did I say what I meant by restraint.”

“Indeed. You didn’t.”

I paced about and thought it over.

“You use knives, I use large swords,” I pointed out, “each blade is different, with its own style and use. You don’t use a kitchen knife the same way you do a hunting knife. You don’t use an Oodachi the same way you use a Kodachi. Catch my drift?”

She nodded.

“What I can teach you, and let me be upfront, I’ve never taught anyone, may not help you.”

I continued to pace. While I explained such things, my mind was yet to be made up.

“That said, I do have some experience with small blades, but they’re not quite like the knives you’ve got,” I thought back to that night when we fought, “throwing knives and a hunting knife, right?”

“Yes. Although I’d like to broaden my horizons a bit.”

“Mm...I see. Short sword may do, then. But let’s not rush anything. Because if I’m going to train you, you’re going to need to learn more than just how to use a short sword.”

“Of course. So does that mean you’ll accept?” Her words were ones of excitement, anticipation, but her voice was flat. As for me, my smile widened and I let some teeth show through.

“Under one condition: every day, I want you to buy me Wendy’s.”

“Okay, sure, there’s one eight miles away, I can just take Cybele’s plane and head right back.”

“On foot,” I clarified. While I didn’t know who this ‘Cybele’ was, taking a plane would have defeated the whole purpose of such a training.

“What? Really? Do you know how long that would take me? Your food will get cold by the time I bring it back to you.”

“Then learn to get faster,” I shrugged. Wasn’t my problem, so long as I had my grub.

“Hey, don’t mean to butt in, but I got a solution,” Cleaver hobbled forward and chimed in.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“You and this girlie here should run together to the city, then you both can eat once there.”

“Ooh, like a race?” I liked the sound of that.

“Something like that. I’ll even take you back home in the back of the truck by the end of the day, since I can already tell she’s just starting out.”

“Hey! I bet I could run right back here!” Demetria protested.

“Go ahead and try, but I’m doin’ you a favor. Trust me,” he replied. He was right, of course, too, and that gross overconfidence of hers was all the more reason why she needed training.

“By the way, if you’re going to be running, you’re going to need a bottle of water,” I advised, then went into the shack to grab my water bottle: a nice and thick tin thermos. “Take this. We can stop at the Garage Cafe on our way to the city so you can fill it.”

“What about you?” She asked.

“I’ll get water once we get into the city. Plus, I can always get another thermos.”

“All right, all right, so when can we start?” She tapped her foot. Ever so impatient to be tortured, I see.

“Now,” I answered.

“What? Now? I just got he –”

Nope. Wouldn’t hear it. Especially after she begged. I took off toward town, then toward the highway right away. I’d glance back to see her in the distance, and it was clear that she was trying to run.

Okay, when we get to the city, I’ve got to teach her proper form.

Down on the highway, she was still quite behind, but she started to speed up.

“How...how much longer?” She huffed, short on breath, and still early in.

“Like, seven more miles?” I guessed. Really, we weren’t even a quarter of the way there. More like a quarter of a quarter.

She stopped and hunched over to catch her breath.

“You’re not going to get very far standing still,” I stopped too. Even though I was ahead of her, the training would have been moot if I just ran off without her. “It’s not about speed. If you try to sprint your way there, you’ll tire out fast. It’s about sustained motion.”

“How is anyone supposed to keep running for eight miles?!” She gasped out and threw her hands up.

“I just told you. You will get faster, eventually, but what’s important is to build up stamina and use up as little energy as possible. You can walk every now and then if you have to, but you need to keep moving.”

She gasped a few more breaths, then straightened up her posture.

“Okay. Let’s keep going.”

Throughout our run, she’d stop to walk for a few seconds, or take a sip from the thermos, then she kept going for a short burst before walking again. It wasn’t ideal, but I suppose she had to start somewhere. When we finally made it into the city, and Wendy’s, about two and a half hours have passed. Again, not ideal, but I suppose it wasn’t too bad.

She was collapsed at a booth in the Wendy’s, all huffing and puffing and complaining about feeling sick.

“You should get yourself something to eat,” I looked down at the suffering apprentice.

“I can’t. I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she wheezed.

“Yeah, that’s how it is at first. But hey, I’m amazed you made it at all. It’s a good start. But seriously, some food will help you feel better. Plus you need the calories to replenish your energy.”

“...I’m...vegetarian…”

“Okay? So? Get a freakin’ salad. Go to another restaurant. But eat something.”

Her hands shook as she grabbed on to the edge of the table and struggled to sit up.

“I suppose I can do a salad,” she heaved out the words. I gave her a heavy pat on the back, which made her bellow out, “oof!”

“That’s the spirit!”

A few minutes later, she returned with a box salad, a large thing of fries, and refilled her water.

“Fries, huh?” I pointed out.

“It’s not meat,” she shrugged. Eh, fair point.

I myself had one of those big burgers, large fries, large soda, large chicken nuggets, large everything. Again, it was junk, but considering the name, I was biased.

“So, I should tell you this upfront: if you’re going to train under me, you need to have a reason. I don’t need to know what that reason is, but I won’t accept it if you don’t have one.”

“Trust me, I do,” she responded, not quite focused on me, and more looking listless as she dipped her fries in a pile of red sweetness.

“By the way, do you have a place to stay?”

“No, but I can check into a hotel. It’s not like I don’t have money.”

“If that’s what you wanna do, sure, but while you’re here, you can sleep over at the shack. It’s not the most comfortable, and you’d have to sleep on the floor, but it won’t cost ya anything. More convenient, too. Cleaver won’t mind.”

“Cleaver, huh? You sure seem to make friends easily,” she observed.

“Heh. It’s not quite like that, but I try to form connections where I can. I think you’ll find that it’s practical, pragmatic even, to get on someone’s good side wherever you go. Doesn’t matter if you think you’re stronger or weaker,” I shook my head and smiled, “it’s a lonely world. Universe, even. But there’s things you can do to make it less lonely. I’m a loner, both by trade and nature, but we’re all here on this Earth to help each other.”

“That’s a good philosophy. I’ve never given such things any thought.”

“You probably never needed to. It’s better if you don’t have to give it thought, but when you’ve lived as long as I have, with as many experiences as I have, you get plenty of moments to think. Reflect.”

“Huh?” She looked my way, as if I had caught her attention with my little musings.

“Huh what?”

“Oh, I thought you said my name.”

“What? ‘To think’? I guess that sounds like Demetria…”

‘My hearing’s probably off because of all that running,” she shook her head and groaned, “seriously, my ears won’t stop popping.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“How long do we have to keep this running for, anyway?”

“Until you can manage to do it without stopping to walk. Stopping for water is one thing, but even then, it shouldn’t take long. As I said, it’s not about speed. It’s fine if you run slow, just don’t stop running.”

We stretched outside after our meal and wandered around.

“I’m taking online classes, actually, so I may have to pass on your offer,” Demetria mentioned as we walked through the city.

“There’s Wi-Fi at the shack. I’m an engineer, it wasn’t too hard to do.”

“Oh, okay. You really think of everything, huh?”

I denied such a claim.

“I just try to see what’s possible. So tell me about these online classes of yours.”

“There’s not really much to tell. I’m studying marine biology, but I don’t really care for it. I’m just doing it to finish what I started,” she gestured toward me and I caught a glimpse of her reflection through the glass of an electronics store. She looked so animated, even as she told me how little interest she had in her studies.

“That’s still impressive in its own right,” I replied. It got me thinking about how many projects I left unfinished, how many times I had to leave a place and its people behind, how many missions went abandoned when new information made me see a different perspective. Even the times when I just abandoned a project out of a loss of faith or desire to see it complete. What could have come of them had I completed them?

We wandered around town for a little while, then sat at a park, although little was said. Just before sunset, Cleaver’s rusty pickup truck sputtered and screeched as it arrived at the base of the park. Both Demetria and I hopped in the back and we let the gentle breeze of early spring overtake us. Soon we were back at the shack and once we landed on the soft soil, I broke down the plan.

“While she’s training with me, can she stay here?” I asked.

“I don’t see a problem with that, but she’ll have to sleep on the floor next to Mange.”

“Who’s Mange?” Demetria leaped out from the side of the truck and landed on her feet with a thud.

“Eh, just my dog. He’s friendly. Might growl at ya. Might even bite your arm. Might even rip it off. But he’s friendly.”

She squinted.

“It’s a lone wolf he found,” I explained instead. As it turns out, Cleaver wasn’t very good with this stuff. “I think as far as Mange is concerned, as long as you don’t actively pose a threat, he’ll probably consider you part of the pack.”

“Hold up. Why do you have a pet wolf?” She turned to Cleaver. He scratched the back of his head.

“Helps keep away the cougars,” he answered all matter-of-fact.

“Why do you need to keep away older women for?” She questioned and I almost spat out the soda that had already been digested three hours ago.

“I like this one,” he pointed his thumb to her, “she knows what’s up.”

“Actually, I think it’s the opposite,” I refuted.

“So while we’re training, what if we practice sparring right outside the shack?”

Then it would get interesting, I thought the devious thought. Of course I wasn’t going to disclose that.

“We’d just have to keep the door closed, I guess,” I said instead.

We all made our way inside, a very cramped space. There was a bathroom in the back, complete with a shower, but aside from that, it was a bedroom with little room to house one person, let alone three plus a gray wolf. Besides the bunk bed hammock and the wooden planked floor, there was a dresser on the left end once we entered, and on the right was where Mange slept (when he wasn’t sleeping outside).

“You don’t mind if I have my laptop open while you sleep, do you?” Demetria asked Cleaver as he was already headed up to the top hammock to get some shut eye.

“Do what you want, but if the bright screen wakes Mange, don’t come cryin’ to me when he bites ya.”

“Here, I’ll sleep on the floor across from you,” I offered to her, “so don’t even worry about it.”

“Thanks,” she turned quiet and looked down to her side.

“She’s working toward her degree!” I cupped my hands to tell Cleaver. “Her studies are very important to her!”

“Really, now?”

“How the hell should I know? They’re her studies, not mine,” I hissed out the words, trying not to be too loud as to wake Mange.

“Bah, you know it’s all a scam,” he grumbled.

“You’re a scam,” I mimicked back.

“Are you gonna be okay sleeping on the floor?” Demetria seemed puzzled at my offer.

What about you? I bet you’re more used to sleeping on a bed than I am.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t care where I sleep. I’ve slept just about everywhere,” I reassured her.

“Bah, there she goes again. ‘Look at me, I’ve slept in penthouses and castles and trash cans alike’. We’ve heard it all before,” Cleaver started up again. I ignored him, and leaned in to whisper to Demetria:

“That’s him on his good days. Now type away.”

Sleep never came easy for me, if much at all. That’s always been true, or at least as far back as I could remember. The dim glow of Demetria’s laptop didn’t make much of a difference. Mange for his part stretched during a couple of intervals, but other than that, didn’t seem to pay Demetria any mind. Not even as she was leaned up against the back of his fur.

There wasn’t much else to do but watch. After a while, she started to yawn and her eyelids started to droop down. There were a few more clacks against the keyboard, then she pulled the laptop screen down slow and closed it before setting it aside. She didn’t seem to notice me at all. All the better for it. I wasn’t fixated on her, but my surrounding as a whole. It was a quirk of mine which I attributed to countless years of pursuit. Always alert, always looking forward. If someone were to try to kill me in their sleep, they would be left disappointed.

If somebody managed to kill me while I was asleep, I’d like to live long enough to thank them.

Still, for what it was worth, I was still human. Tiredness was still a thing. Sleep came eventually. Even if just a single wink, I would have liked that. An hour must have passed, and I felt ready to nod off when I heard Demetria mutter something. It was faint, but I had peachy keen ears, and was able to make out what she said:

“Games? Like having a snowball fight? Building a snowman? Then again, it doesn’t have to be a snowman…”

“Snowman?” I mouthed. I had to think about it, because it sounded familiar. I soon began to hum a little tune.

“Isn’t that...from a movie?” I asked myself in a low mutter.

Not something I ever watched, but I’ve probably passed by TVs in display windows playing that thing. Those kind of animated films with songs are inescapable, regardless of the quality of said tunes. Well, I’m not going to speak on the quality of something I’ve no interest in. It’s just kind of amusing that she’d be reciting such a song in her sleep. Despite her moody exterior, maybe she’s just a kid at heart.

Demetria started to stir and then her eyes crept open.

“So, Frozen, huh?” I asked, my voice a little hoarse. Likely due to my lack of sleep.

“Mm...what?” She yawned a sleepy little mumble.

“You were talking in your sleep. I think you were singing a song from Frozen,” I pointed out.

“Huh. The only Disney movie I like is Finding Nemo. So what song was I singing?”

“Hmm...’do you wanna build a snowman?’ I think it’s called.”

“Oh wow. Asleep me has poor taste. Can’t say awake me has any better taste, but still.”

“Whatever. Just let it go and get back to sleep.”

She nodded, then closed her eyes again and leaned back. Soon it seemed that sleep had taken her once more, though I did hear her mutter one more thing before departing to a soundless rest:

“Not like I plan on being around much longer, anyway.”

Heh, I leaned my head back against the dresser. You and me both.

In the morning, I stepped out of the shack and took in the crisp morning air. It was bliss, it was serene, it was –

“Ugh...so sore…”

Behind me, a shambling zombie-like figure groaned. Almost as if someone had raised the dead.

“Right. I should have taken that into consideration,” I groaned as well, realization of who was behind me set in.

“What are we going to do?” She scratched the back of her head and a look of general displeasure possessed her face.

“We eat some food, we do some stretches, we do some heavy lifting,” I ran through the check list.

“Heavy lifting?! I thought we’d be taking it easy today since I’m so worn out!” She was flabbergasted and most devastated.

“This is taking it easy. We’re not going to be running to the city today. Instead we’ll work the upper body.”

“What happened to ‘buy me Wendy’s every day?’” Demetria mentioned, something I didn’t expect to get brought up.

“Eh,” I shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be every day. How about just every time we go into town? Now, I’m going to make it so you hurt in other places, so are you ready?”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect, herself.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word,” I offered. “Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

She gulped, being given an answer she didn’t expect.

“If at any time you want to quit, just say the word. Because it’s not going to get any easier from here. You’ll just need to get better.”

Another gulp, then she shook her head.

“I’m not going to quit. I can’t afford to.”

Her determination was commendable. I had to give her that. If I didn’t end up breaking her spirit, she could very well end up a force to be reckoned with in her own right.

So it went: we stretched. We walked around the fields near the shack. Our day came and went with little word save for what was spoken on her resolute face. Another night. Another dim glow from her screen as she typed away at whatever project she had.

Dusk turned to daylight; we ran once more the following morning. There were still some stumbles, still some hurdles. She steadied her movements more, and with only being the second run, it was a startling improvement. Maybe minuscule in the grand scheme of themes, but I would have thought it would take longer for her to show any signs of improvement.

Two or three miles in, she stopped, slowed to a walk, then a few minutes later, built back into a jog. This happened another mile out, as well as the next. During the second half, however, whether it be a high or just having found a rhythm, she managed to keep pace the whole way through.

After our meal, we found a nearby park and wandered into a deeper portion of the park, less populated, with the thicket of trees concealing us from the potential misunderstood eyes of passerby.

“All right. Now it’s time to fight.”

She was slumped over as she had followed me into the park already worn out. However, upon the word ‘fight’, she perked up. That, or it was a look of shock. Either way, I had her attention.

“A...Already?! It’s only the second time running here and I’m still a little worn out.”

“Your enemies aren’t going to care if you’re worn out. Hell, they’ll use that to their advantage,” I corrected her. Not that she had enemies. Maybe I was just drawing from experience with that example.

“You’re right,” she agreed, something which took me by surprise. However, as poised as she looked, it was little more than show, and her knees wobbled before the fight even began.

I swerved my left leg to the side and dragged my foot against the soft grass, which tripped her and she fell before she could even attempt to avoid it. She landed right on her butt and struggled to get up. Before she could bring herself up, I stomped down, and that time, she reacted well enough to roll over.

“While the idea does turn me on, some things are more important,” she remarked with a grimace.

...What?

She hurried up that time and I swung my right fist in a slow and deliberate manner, slow enough that it would have given her enough time to do any number of things in response. She chose to block it with her left arm and although she reacted in time, I soon overpowered her. In spite of that, she tried to hold her arm up. As she was distracted, I once again swept my leg to the side and knocked her down.

“Don’t try to block if you can’t withstand the hit. Dodge instead. Also, don’t leave yourself open. Your enemy could find an array of maneuvers to attack you if you leave yourself an opening.”

She winced and gave a short nod.

II

Further days passed; what was one week turned to two. Run, stretch, block, dodge, react. After two weeks, she managed to run the whole way through. From Notus to Caldwell with a reserve of stamina left over. At the park, she jumped when I did a side-sweep. Either a short jump, or jumped back. When I swung my fist, rather than block it, she would either duck down, or lean back.

Another week went by and on the third week, I introduced weapons into the mix.

“Dodging, avoiding hits, all that’s well and good, but you’ll also need to fight back,” I instructed.

“Of course,” she replied.

I knew she had her knives on her. I also gave her a short sword to use. For my part, I had my signature katana, though to make it more fair for her, I pressed a button on the blade’s scabbard and split them into two kodachi-type blades.

“Wha – how did you do that?” Her eyes widened and she blinked, astonished at the sight.

“It’s not an ordinary blade. It came with my old profession, you could say.”

“You mean as a janitor? Did everyone have weapons like that?”

“Some. I’m sure you’re aware that Remora’s rifle can split into two smaller, pistol-like guns which fires off a wave of energy. My blade, or blades, are coated in an oil which repels a certain kind of creature.”

“Angels,” she answered.

So you know? Whatever the reason, I’m sure it’s not a good thing.

“That is one way to call them. But not angels in the biblical sense. No, more like the ‘beings beyond comprehension’ sense.”

“Yet we comprehend enough to craft weapons to deal with such things,” she added.

“Sorta. It’s hard to know when these weapons will be useful, or even how useful they will be. Especially when dealing with beings that are unheard of.”

Like what Ray and Sunny were dealing with up in the arctic. Whatever was behind it, I had little to go off of. If they even wished to stand a fighting chance, I would need to know more, but I didn’t know how to learn further.

What was known wasn’t comprehensible, either, as it didn’t seem to fit a specific pattern or intention – creatures that were an amalgamation of other creatures, contorted to a strange shape. Shadowy mass filled with various materials and limbs, like rope, wire, legs, and tentacles that could cause others to lose their sense of self. People whose limbs grew out from their backs, who could control such strange hybird creatures. Then the latest addition – a fog which blanketed the area near Ray’s diner and gave injuries to passerby. Some reported shadows of strange shapes, others reported voices.

What exactly did it feel? What did it embody? How did all of those phenomena correspond with what the source embodied?

At any moment, one of the diner’s proprietors would call me up to tell me that things got bad again and I’d have to cut the training off there so I could hurry to their aid. Remora’s rifle more than likely protected the diner from the inside, but the surrounding area was fair game for the entity and the beasts it produced. For now, however, I could focus on training Demetria, who still had a great deal to learn, even if she picked up on things at an alarming rate.

We clashed with the blades, and that time, she was able to block well. At one point, I swung down only for her to block it with the scimitar I let her borrow. When I swung the other blade to the right, she side-stepped to avoid the swing. Then the left, and the same. However, she kept up the block the whole way and even if she managed to dodge in spite of the openings she left, she was still overpowered when I swung both blades down against the scimitar. She tried to bend her knees and apply more pressure, but it wasn’t enough, and both blades were but a hair’s breath away from her face.

Without any more strength to give, she fell. I put aside my weapons before they could cut her down, then I scolded her.

“Again, don’t block if you know you can be overpowered. You did good blocking one blade, but you left yourself open. If the enemy starts adding more pressure and you can’t keep up, release and get out of the way.”

“Right…” She sounded wiped out. I couldn’t blame her, and she was improving, but she needed to know where her weak spots were.

“We’ll call it a day for now. Tomorrow we’ll spar by the shack.”

“Right on! I’ve been wanting to do that since the beginning!”

Are you that excited to get beaten up?

“What’s so special to you about training near the shack and training in this park?”

“Well, for starters...I’m always worried someone’s gonna show up and get concerned. It might scare someone and they could even call the cops!”

“Let the cops come. I’ll skewer them all with glee,” I dispelled any unease she had.

“It’s not just that! The field by the shack is really secluded so we can go ahead and go all out!”

Ah, yeah. That is a good point.

Our training continued the next day at Cleaver’s shack. We had an open dirt clearing where we weren’t as hindered by tall grass. Both of us stood on far ends of the circle with our weapons in hand.

“Come at me, bro!” She shouted.

I had a moment of weakness. As in, I hesitated, hearing such a ridiculous statement. Or phrase, rather. It only took a moment, though, and after that moment washed away, I rushed in.

Our blades clashed once more and she dodged the attacks, struck when she saw an opportunity, and timed her blocks well as well. Although I could also block and dodge each of her attempts, it had more to do with my experience.

You really are a fast learner, aren’t you?

However, another weak point showed through once more as soon as I struck with a side-slash. No, she managed to dodge it. That wasn’t the problem: the problem was that she pushed her legs in and jumped up. If she didn’t manage to jump high enough, or didn’t move in time…

“Wrong!” I shouted as I stood in place.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice squeaked and she scowled. To her it must have been just a disagreement of ideas, and she looked ready to protest my scolding, but it had to be done regardless.

“You dodged it, but the way you did so was way risky and took up more of your energy that it should have. You’ve built up a lot of stamina, but in a fierce battle, every bit of energy counts. It would have been less risky and have used up less of your energy to have stepped back, even jumped a little backward, than to try to jump over it.”

“Yeah...I see what you mean now,” she looked down and shook her fists, obvious shame written all over her.

“I’m not saying this to be rigid. If you didn’t jump high enough, you would have gotten slashed for sure.”

“I’ve been slashed in the stomach already,” her voice turned low, and a sullen look took over. She then lifted up her shirt, which made me take a step back. Across her stomach was, indeed, a long thin scar. “So it’s not so bad, right?”

“It’s true that slashes are generally less harmful than stabs. It’s said that in old wars, soldiers would slash rather than stab their enemies so they wouldn’t have to bear the weight of killing another person. But a slash can still be very harmful depending on how much force is placed, and the proximity. If you get a deep slash, like say you strike a vein, expect blood to spray out. An endless flow that you wouldn’t be able to stop, and if unable to be treated soon enough, death. Given enough force, one could even slash a limb clear off or cut someone in half.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Sheesh. Such gory imagery,” she made little “ack, ack” sounds to accompany her statement so that she could further express her disgust.

“It’s just muscle memory is hard. I know the right moves but sometimes I do the wrong one because so used to a particular pattern,” she added, something which I understood.

“Which is why we need to take it from the top until you get it right.”

We continued through the afternoon until sunset hit. After we called it good, Demetria headed back into the shack.

“Well, this thesis isn’t going to bullshit itself,” she told me as she waved before entering the shack. I waved back, but sat out for a while, letting myself bask in dusk’s chill.

“Is this what I’ve been reduced to? A mentor? An escort?” No, such thoughts weren’t good, especially not when spoken out into the air.

It was too late, of course. Once those words were spoken, the rest of the thoughts followed. Like, was I ever alive at all? What did it look like when I had a life? What was I now but a ghost, a shade, a wandering remnant? It wasn’t even that I didn’t want to help others or be a mentor, but that the only semblance of a life I had was one that would never leave. Violence was ingrained in me, ran through my bloodstream as I lived and breathed. There could be no help without it and the only justice I knew was an unshaken, violent justice.

For a while longer, I let myself sit beside the comfort of darkness. Close to silence, with the only sounds to fill the air being the crickets and the frogs which hid out in any given direction.

With a sigh, I allowed myself back inside. Demetria sat there, as she had many nights, with her face glued to that laptop screen. However, when she saw me enter, she closed her laptop and addressed me.

“How are you feeling?” She looked up.

I sat down and crossed my legs. I smiled, for I knew no other way to express anything.

“Just how I always am,” I shook my head, it sounded like such a carefree dismissal. Part of me expected her to be satisfied by such an answer.

“And how is that?” She asked instead.

That was a more difficult thing to answer than it should have been. It wasn’t a sense of monotony, but something else. Loss of life, or a loss of humanity.

“Forgive me if I’m unable to give a straight answer,” I replied after some thought.

“That’s okay, I’m gay.”

Fine, but just know that you brought this on yourself.

“Some say that ghosts are just memories, so in that sense, nothing ever leaves, does it, so long as the memory is there?” I posed the question. As I said, I couldn’t give a straight answer.

“Are you saying that you feel like a ghost?”

I shook my head.

“Not quite. I told you once that I considered my old self dead, right?”

As well as my current self. But only in a different sense.

“Yeah. How you were accused of –”

“I told you what my original name was back then. It was a lie. Not the story, but the name. Considering how long ago it was, my name was more than likely a simple one. Like Kuso Gozen, or something. There were bits and pieces of that life, that girl, that I remember. Being accused of an assassination, being put to death...but much of the details are lost. Forgotten. Hell, it’s enough for me to question if what I remember is real or made up,” I let out a deep breath. I was doing this again, wasn’t I? And who was I to say that was to confide would be any more real than last time?

“It could have been that I did murder someone. That I was given due punishment, and chose to evade such punishment. Based on what I know of myself, I wouldn’t put it past me to take out a corrupt official. But that’s beside the point.”

“What is the point?”

I shook my head.

“Ha. If I knew...well, I suppose the point is: maybe it’s better that I don’t remember. Maybe it’s better to be forgotten. To be more than dead, less than a memory.”

“I think I can relate with that. I suppose most people would prefer to be remembered, but I suppose to some, it may be better to forget. Like if you did something bad.”

“Mm...that’s not quite what I mean. As for that old self, yes, she’s forgotten. But my current self? I don’t mind people knowing my deeds. But this life I’ve had...I don’t want to preserve it.”

“What? You mean you’re going to let yourself get killed?”

No, that wasn’t quite right, either. But then, what ever was?

“Hell no,” I refuted, “I wouldn’t go down without a fight. But I’m just waiting for my time. Some say I’m like a cockroach, the way I’ve survived so much and had so many lucky breaks. But for the sake of my own sanity, I hope that’s not the case.”

“Why live your life that way? Why are you so eager to die?”

“It’s not like that. Maybe it’s a curiosity. How it will end and when. Will it be a quiet one, or a roaring crescendo? Will I be remembered afterward? Talked about? Or will I be forgotten, not even a passing name.”

“I’ll remember you. I already met you. Plus you’ve got all those homeless friends,” she pointed out.

“Ha! I guess you’re right about that one. It’s easy to call anyone a friend when you know you’re just passing through! We form a connection, make small talk, and then I disappear into the wind. It’s not really any different than how life was like with that company – I’d visit different places in different timelines, meet some people, do my job, and then go onto the next one. That’s just how it was. I suspect everyone who worked there, it didn’t matter what their personalities were or how big of a heart they had, got that way: just passing through, not really being alive. If any of us ever were in the first place.”

“How do you even know others were like that?” concerned dripped from her lips. Despite her stoic front, she really couldn’t keep all of that in, could she?

“Let’s call it an observation. I’ve seen how others were: some cope by indulging in their vices. Sex, drugs, booze, you name it. Some go numb, others break down, unable to find a sense of calm. Some can try to settle down, live a quiet life, maybe try to start a family, but it never leaves them. That feeling, like life, death, it may as well be the same thing. I think it’s the job, it does something to you. To all of us. Maybe that’s why I think that the ones who died were the lucky ones. Otherwise you just end up like me, waiting for your time to come.”

I gave a hearty laugh and smiled, not caring who I would wake up.

“I guess that’s why it’s so easy to talk to you about all this, because it doesn’t really matter. I may as well be talking to myself.”

She turned her head, puffed up her cheeks, and scowled. I thought she was ready to blow up at me, talk about how unkind that statement was, that I shouldn’t have had that mindset, but when she finally spoke again, it was about something else entirely.

“Do you know how Rhea died?” She asked, a fun topic for the whole family.

“Yeah. Was assigned to get rid of someone who was possessed by the embodiment of happiness. It was a pretty big task: potential world at stake scenario. Anyone could have lost to something like that.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m not so sure.”

“Why do you say that?” I stroked my chin, eager for her explanation.

“Ves is my cousin’s wife. She’s still mournful about the whole thing. She never wanted to kill her, and in fact, I think Ves was the one who could have easily been defeated. Apparently the two actually talked, tried to work out a compromise. Rhea actually showed her mercy, and in the end, I think Rhea was holding back because she wanted to be the one to go.”

How interesting. Mercy. Well, I suppose I would have at least tried to figure out what all of the options were before going in for the kill. So it’s not too surprising if it happened to be the same way.

“Did your cousin’s wife tell you all that?”

She nodded.

“It may have been the case that she was holding back, who’s to say?”

“But why would she do that if she knew the world was at stake? Did she just forsake the world?”

I remember the first time I met up with Demetria, she said that she had little interest when it came to Rhea. So now the sudden interest struck me as a little odd. But then again, maybe there was something to spurn such interest and I just didn’t know it.

“It’s doubtful the world ever mattered in the first place. After all, it was just one instance of the world, out of an endless amount of instances.”

“Yeah, but it’s my world! It’s the only instance I have!”

I leaned over and pressed my finger to her lip.

“Shh. Others are sleeping.”

After I released my finger and returned to my original position, I continued.

“She didn’t have a world she belonged to. While I’m sure she understood the risk, the stakes weren’t the same for her as it may have been for you. Maybe she was just done, and knew of no other way to go but through a fight.”

“But why did she show Ves mercy? That’s just not like her, is it?”

“Maybe she had a last minute change of heart. It’s possible.”

“Do you think she was infected by the entity? Is that why?”

I shook my head.

“It’s a possibility. There’s no way to know that for certain, though. As much as it’s natural for many of us to speculate, the bottom line is that the only person who knew what was going through her head was herself, and she’s not around to give us any answers.”

“You’re right...I was just wondering: what would you have done if you were in her position?”

I thought it over some.

“I don’t think I would have done anything different,” I concluded.

“Do you think she was lucky as well?”

Ah. So maybe that’s why she brought it up. I had to close my eyes for that one, lest the piercing glare give anything away.

“What do you think the answer to that one is?”

There was a pause, and there was something serene about such a pause. The heavy breaths of the wolf behind her, the snoring of the middle aged man at the top hammock. It carried with it a peaceful wind.

“I’m worried about you,” she said at last.

“Don’t be,” I shook my head and smiled, “the student has no need to worry about the mentor. You should get some rest.”

When we picked up on the following day, her growth was more than apparent. I’d strike down, but she’d sidestep, then do a sweeping slash, which I blocked, then did a slash of my own. She surprised me next, by sliding down, then struck up. I had to react fast just to block it.

“Ha. You’re getting better at reacting, but you’ve yet to land a hit,” I remarked.

“Just you wait,” she shot back with a smug smile.

Such confidence. I wonder if it will last.

In an effort to show that it wasn’t just a bluff, she rolled once, did another side step, which made me turn around as she made her next strike. Again, our blades clashed, and I still had another blade in my other hand. However, this time, she pulled something out from her pocket and I leaned my head back just in time not to get hit by what turned out to be a knife.

When I realized what she just tried, I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a condescending laugh, in fact, I was quite impressed. All the same, I was as amused as I could ever be.

“Ha, good one. You fancy yourself a ninja or something?” I gave a hearty chuckle.

“Not quite. I just need to learn all that I can,” she dispelled any such idea. She didn’t look any short on energy, either. That was good.

We’ll have to hone that aim of hers, but she seems to already have some sort of grasp. Force and precision, two things to work on.

“Let’s make things more interesting, shall we?” The proposal slithered out from my mouth as I slipped a cunning grin.

“MANGE!” I called out.

She looked over, a sharpened glance. It wasn’t even so much of a reaction, but more of an acknowledgment.

Has she adopted some of my traits? Is it from the training? Or did it just come with the confidence?

Busted out through the door of the shack came Mange, all fired up. That tired old wolf may not have been much but a heavy sleeper on his good days, but he could still be tricked into thinking there was trouble.

“Now you’ll have to dodge both of us.”

Before, I’d have expected her to react like, “really? Wolves are much faster than people! And they’re huge!” But instead, once again, a single nod of acknowledgment.

We clashed further, clangs of our blades as we maneuvered around each other. But soon, Mange gave chase, and as expected, darted toward Demetria. She stepped back, but he was quick to turn. She stepped to the side, but that didn’t stop him in the slightest. It was getting to the point that she was backing further away from me without even realizing it.

Panic seemed to set in and she turned her head from side to side and noticed how much further she had gotten. Mange was seconds away, and Demetria rolled forward, which seemed to do her little good. I charged toward her, like a little nudge to remind her who her target was, and I watched as she knew she was cornered on both ends: Mange behind her, and I about to strike her down in front.

So in a twist of events, she crouched down, then when Mange got close enough, she leaped into the air and launched herself off of that poor wolf’s nose, which propelled her further. I watched as she tossed a knife down in my direction, and I blocked it with the sword at my right. However, she then swung her blade down from over her shoulder, and I reacted just in time, with the blade at my left hand overhead. However, the force was strong enough that I needed both arms free, and before I could lift the other sword, she swung her legs together and flung herself forward against my abdomen, knocking me to the ground.

With her on top, the blade raised against my head and her head close, I could feel her warm, heavy breaths on my face. They weren’t breaths of exhaustion, but excitement instead.

I wonder if that’s what she meant when she said she wanted me to teach her ‘restraint’.

“Well, you’ve got me pinned down. What’s next?” I flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

No answer. Mange didn’t seem so interested in pulling her off, despite the image present. So it was up to me: I grabbed her by the wrist, even with that sword firm in her hand, and tossed her off of me.

“Waah!” She squealed, caught off guard.

I got up and brushed off any dirt that had gotten on me.

“Good job. That was a risky move, but it paid off. To think I had just tried that today and you had already figured out a counter,” I commended her. However, she walked off and seemed to have brushed aside every word.

“It’s still not enough,” she grumbled.

“What is enough?” I demanded. As much as I hated to admit, her attitude got to me.

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll know when I get there,” she huffed out a reply.

“Hey,” I called her out. That time, she turned around. “I know I said you didn’t need to tell me the reason, but what is it that you’re after, anyway?”

“I need to improve my aim when throwing knives, I need to improve my reaction time. My reflexes still aren’t enough.”

“Bullshit. What more do you need?”

“I need to be able to dodge a bullet,” she replied with such conviction that despite the absurdity of the statement, I had no choice but to take it seriously.

“If that’s your goal, you should give up right now. It’s never going to happen, no matter how good you get.”

“I need to.”

“Nobody’s fast enough,” I shot down once more, “you think I can dodge a bullet? You think I’m faster than what comes out of a gun? I just have to get lucky and hope there’s something I can shield myself behind. That, or hope that I’m faster than the one with their hand on the trigger.”

“Fine. Then I need to be able to block a bullet,” she was adamant, which only served to irritate me further.

“With what? A sword? Even if you could react fast enough, it’s more likely that the bullet will break the sword. What then?”

“I’ll…” She grit her teeth, “I’ll think of something.

How stubborn. Looks like I’ll need to compromise.

“Fine. How about this? For the next few days, or however long it takes, I’ll borrow your throwing knives, toss them your way, and you’ll have to dodge them. I’ll paint some targets on trees and I’ll have you keep throwing until you can manage to hit the middle. I’ll make sure you’re using proper form. Does that sound good?”

She gave it a few seconds pause, then signaled her approval with a single nod.

“Good. Now, let’s practice some sprinting. Run around the field for a while until you get worn out. Mange will chase you around, but don’t worry, he won’t actually hurt. He may knock you down, and he is heavy, but he’s friendly enough.”

With a sprint, she took off. As she went busy with that, I returned to the shack and decided to lay down for a little while on the bottom hammock. For whatever reason, as I lay, a smile formed, then plastered its way onto my face. Above me came the gruff voice of Cleaver:

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I am,” I replied, “who’s to say?”

“You’re not fooling anyone. You’re getting a kick out of this.”

“Of course,” I gave in, “I’m most alive in a fight. Not to mention, it feels refreshing. Both to fight without such high stakes, and to be a mentor. It feels like I’m passing on my knowledge to the next generation.”

“I don’t really get it, but I could tell there was something up with you ever since you first showed up.”

“Oh?” Consider my interest piqued.

“I mean, c’mon, some tall Japanese swordswoman just shows up looking for a place to crash? Like, what time period do you think this is? Obviously there’s something up with that, either that, or you’re just a weirdo.”

To be honest, I’m more of an oddball than I’d care to admit.

“But you know,” he went on, “I never pried, I never asked about what your story was, because I just didn’t care. As long as you’re going to help me out and mean no trouble, then it’s none of my business.”

“See? That’s why we get along so well. I’ve never asked you what your deal was, either,” I threw at him. If it wasn’t clear, I was a little cheeky.

“You wanna know something else? When you and that girl are talking late at night, I can hear you. You’re not as quiet as you think you’re being.”

“Aw, Cleaver, at your age, you need your beauty sleep.”

“Guh,” he grunted, “you’re one to talk. What with your talks. I’ll be honest, I don’t understand most of it, but your whole ‘I’m just waitin’ for my time’ bullshit like you’re some old woman about to croak.”

“Heh. I am. I’ve lived a long life, Cleaver.”

“You’re younger than I am. I bet you haven’t even hit forty.”

“I bet you’re right. But I’m past my expiration date, so to speak. With the kind of life I’ve lived, I’d say I’m past the average life expectancy. It’s a little strange...just to exist at all.”

Large breaths of air lingered just before the last few words were uttered. It was as if I had gone speechless, starved of oxygen.

“Well, if you’re havin’ fun, that’s gotta count for something,” he seemed like he was trying to make some sort of attempt at encouragement.

“Never said it didn’t, but thank you for the sentiment.”

“Another thing, uh, for what it’s worth, what does it matter if you’re just passing by? Doesn’t mean it don’t got meaning. Plenty of people are just passing by, having chance encounters. But it still has value.”

“I agree. Try not to put too much stock into the things I say,” I advised him. Selfish as it may have been, part of me wanted to know what kind of life he had lived, and why he lived in a shack out in an open field. Was it choice or circumstance? Was there another option? But just like him, I was fine with not knowing.

I think it’s always been that I’ve gotten along most well with older folks of a certain kind. Lost souls, or those who were destitute, vagrant, fallen on bad luck and hard times. Hermits whose own lives had become a distant memory. There was nothing to be fascinated by it, nothing romantic. It was just a certain kinship I felt. I in no way ever wanted to just scrape by with whatever I could reach for. It was just what I developed into, and now I felt as if I could live no other way. If I could even live at all.

III

Even as the days passed, and another couple of weeks flew by, it proved not to scratch that itch she so desired. Despite every throw closer and closer to the bullseye, every projectile avoided, every knife caught in the grip of her gloves (that one surprised me the most. Another risky move, but one I allowed, despite the trouble that could have caused. It seemed like less of a mistake and something she wanted to do. Still, I made sure to drill in her head not to try that with bullets, because all that would do, best case scenario, is give her a bloody hand), it wasn’t enough.

Throughout the training, I had wondered what her reason was. Although I told her she didn’t need to tell me, it was still important enough to her that she sought me out. She could have sought out anyone, a professional trainer, for example. But no, it was me. There had to be something specific there, and I had my suspicions as to what it was.

“Satisfied?” I inquired after she had managed to hit the target, square in the middle.

“Not quite,” she shook her head. That all but confirmed it; no more beating around the bush, I had to ask:

“Are you trying to be like your crush?” I drilled to the center of the matter, hoping to find gold.

“Excuse me?” She asked in turn.

“Remora. You haven’t mentioned her since you got here. You mentioned Rhea, which is surprising in of itself, but she never mattered much to you. As I’m sure you’ve thought, yourself, her and your cousin’s battle had nothing to do with you. But it was Remora who you were interested in, wasn’t it?” Her brows creased, and I could tell she didn’t enjoy such a topic.

“I’ve just had nothing to tell. Feelings can change,” she replied, her voice lowered, guarded in its response.

“Indeed. So it was a falling out?”

“Something like that. It’s a period in my life that I’m done with, so I don’t need to think about it anymore,” she flat out stated. Still, she didn’t echo the same confidence that she did in our spars.

“So that’s just it? Yet you came here, to someone you knew worked the same job as her, and talk about wanting to dodge bullets. Even if you don’t feel like you don’t need to think about her, you either have her in mind, or something similar.”

That time, her defensive face relaxed, and she changed her expression: a smile took hold and stretched to a smug grin.

“Something similar, you could say that. You could say I want to be just like her.”

I figured as much, although a part of me hoped it wasn’t such a case.

“Or rather,” she added, then turned away, “I’d like to be strong enough to be able to kill someone like her.”

Such confidence. This could be interesting, if also disconcerting.

“Someone like me?” I suggested.

She shook her head.

“I’d rather not kill. That was the whole reason why I wanted to learn restraint. But if my suspicions are correct, then I may need to. Which means I have to make sure I’m strong enough to do so, even if it means becoming like one of you guys.”

“Suspicions? What are you talking about?”

It sounded like some delusion of hers, although I knew better than to think such a thing. If there was even a chance of someone else like Remora or I, even alive and out there, then what did she want with someone like that? Did she have some personal vendetta? Did someone kill someone close to her? What could have prompted such a desire?

“I think I’m ready to show you,” she paced about, then brought out her phone.

Yes. Please. Show me.

I watched her put her phone up to her ear, then speak into it.

“Hey Cybele. It’s me. I’m ready for you to pick me up. Oh, and I’ve got someone with me. There’s a place I want to show her. Both of you. I might be able to get you your money, there, too.”

There was a short pause.

“Cool, see you soon? Cool.”

She ended the call, then turned back to me.

“You can take your sword with you, if you want.”

Was planning on bringing it, anyway. I’ve got some bad vibes from all this.

“What is it you want to show me, anyway?” I asked her.

“You’ll understand when we get there,” her smile held as she assured me.

What was left in me was a sense of confusion. Before me wasn’t the same Demetria that showed up a couple of months ago, but then, she must have had such a thing planned out. So either she had been masking how she really was, or it was an alarming determination. Something which she was driven to see through.

“By the way, you should get that dog back inside. I don’t think my friend would like seeing them,” she advised.

“Mange is a wolf,” I corrected, then stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled. “Hey Mange! Get inside!”

Mange let out a whimper as he slowly walked toward the shack. He looked over at me, let out a soft, “awoo,” then pouted and went inside.

“Yeah, yeah. Awoo to you too.”

About fifteen minutes later, a woman with a blonde ponytail and wearing a blue blouse and a pencil skirt walked approached us. At first, she stood up straight, but as soon as she saw us, she slumped over.

“Ugh, lemme tell you, it’s so hard to find parking when you fly a plane everywhere,” she bemoaned. Then she stood right back up and looked over to me. I raised an eyebrow and gave a short wave.

“Hey, who’s this?” She asked Demetria, who looked up at both of us.

“Cybele, this is Wen...err...Zephyr,” she introduced.

Cybele then smiled a big smile and held out her hand.

“Heya, nice to meet ya! Nice muscles,” she greeted. I took her hand and shook it, then tilted my head.

“Thanks, I made them myself?” I replied.

She let out an awkward laugh, then turned to Demetria.

“So, what’s this place we’re going to?”

“You’ll see,” was all she said in response, then made her way toward the plane.

“Oooookay. Looks like we’re off,” she strutted off. I followed behind.

Aboard her plane, I just realized that I had heard Cybele’s name before.

“I think Ray’s talked about you,” I mentioned to her.

“Oh?” She sounded curious.

“Yeah. He’s really serious about this thing that’s been going on.”

Demetria scowled and sat across from me, her arms folded.

“So you know what’s going on too? Was I the only one who didn’t?” She accused and stuck her nose up.

“Of course I know what’s going on, girl. I showed up at the diner a little after you left. You would have known too, had you stayed.”

“I was under no obligation to stay,” she rebutted.

“You’re right, but I take it you would have, had you known.”

“No shit.”

“Still, she knows now,” Cybele butted in.

“She found out?”

“Ray told me, then I told her. She seems pretty serious about saving them.”

My ears perked.

“Is that so?” I turned back to Demetria.

She shook her head, arms still crossed.

“Finishing up school is more important. They can handle themselves.”

“Wow, cold,” I reacted.

“Not as cold as the arctic,” she shrugged.

“Well, you’re right about one thing: there’s no reason for you to get involved. If it gets to be too much, Ray will call me back over there.”

She didn’t say anything after that. By the looks of her, she seemed disappointed, as she hung her head low, but she didn’t make any objections.

“Say Cybele, you got any drinks on this plane?” I called over to her. She walked over and got into stewardess mode.

“Yes, what would you like?”

“Got any alcoholic beverages?”

“We have spiced rum,” she offered.

“Cool. I’ll take it.”

“I’ll be right back with your drink, miss,” she did her best to sound polite, then raced off to the back of the plane. I leaned back and awaited our arrival to the mystery destination.

We landed a few hours later in a clearing through a forest. Demetria got out of the plane first, followed by myself. Demetria looked up to Cybele, who was still next to the door of the plane, then addressed her:

“Cybele, can I ask you to stay there? We’ll be out soon, promise.”

“Trust me, that place looks foreboding enough as it is. I’m totally cool with staying here,” she assured.

Demetria gave Cybele a thumbs up, then we walked toward the building in question: this long and high marble building with few windows. Around the perimeter was a barbed wire fence.

“Apparently this place used to be a prison,” Demetria explained. Not that I was interested in the building’s origins. My interest was more in what we were doing there in the first place.

She opened the door inside, then motioned me to follow her in. As if that was really necessary. I would have done so anyway.

Once we stepped foot inside, I noticed the thin tunnel-like corridor, many rooms on the floor above us, and an absence of sound. Another thing of note was that the lights were on, which made it appear less abandoned than it really was. Demetria looked around, then remarked in passing:

“Looks like she took care of the dead bodies like she said she would.”

That caught me off guard, and also made me take note of the floor. Indeed, there wasn’t any hint of bloodshed or anything of the sort.

“She?” I inquired.

“I encountered someone who wants to kill Remora. She said that Remora killed her father, so I take it it’s personal.”

Figures. That frosty bastard wasn’t as good at taking care of loose ends as she thought she was.

“Do you know whose father she might have killed?” Demetria asked.

“No idea. I never shared any missions with her, and I don’t know what kind of jobs she took on. Could’ve been anyone’s father.”

“That makes it difficult,” Demetria shook her head. I wonder, do you still have some concern for her?

“What is this place, anyway?”

Our journey took us to the end of the hall, where two flights of stairs to the upstairs were situated, and we stopped at a door along the back wall.

“There was this organization. They were trying to revive the janitor company. Don’t worry, though. I took them all out, so it’s not going to happen.”

“You mean, you killed them?” Was my first question, although there were many others which could have taken precedence. Like why anyone would want to do such a thing, let alone how they knew of such an organization in the first place.

“Their turret killed them,” she corrected. “They were too heavily armored for me to have done anything on my own.”

She opened the door, then stepped inside. I followed suit, and my jaw just about dropped at the sight of stacks of cash lined up along shelves on the walls. Aside from that, there were several guns strewn about the floor, and alongside those weapons, there was something else quite peculiar: minerals which appeared to change shape and color without end, going from smooth to jagged to crystalline. Brown, gold, blue, purple, green, black, white. No specific consistency, and yet at the same time as it made those constant changes, it was as if the ‘minerals’ or whatever they were, were still objects and objects which made no such movements to warrant such a change.

“Concentrated celestial aura…” I heaved out the words. Demetria turned to me as she shoveled stacks of cash.

“You know it?” She asked.

“They’re the materials created from the essence of angels, made solid. They were used to forge the weapons we use. What they’re doing here...no, how they got their hands on…” I was just about speechless.

“Yeah, I don’t have an explanation, either,” Demetria echoed my sentiment. “There’s many things I don’t know, but I figure with this, I’ll have a fighting chance.”

“Fighting chance? What are you talking about?” I snapped.

“I want a new weapon of my own created from this stuff. I’ve already got an idea as to what I want, it’s just a matter of finding someone who could forge with these.”

Astonishment turned to irritation, and I held my fist against the wall.

“That’s not what I mean! What do you expect to do with a weapon like that?”

Her face turned sullen, and her voice lowered.

“I have an idea of what’s causing these phenomena that Sunny and Ray have been dealing with at the diner. If my suspicion is correct, then I need to make sure I’m prepared.”

“Prepared? How the hell could you possibly know what’s going on up there?”

“Because I’ve dealt with it already!” She snapped right back. “There was a man who ate two people alive, two people who I tried and failed to save! Who claimed to serve an indescribable creature, and even though I burned that place down, I know it didn’t take care of anything! There were still monsters in the arctic, strange things that went on, and they’re still going on! I have to put a stop to him! It’s my responsibility!”

“No, it’s not. You need to stay out of it. I get that you’re worried about them, but you don’t have the experience that I do. So just go back home to your family, live a quiet life, and let me deal with it.”

She didn’t budge.

“I know I lack the experience, that’s why I had you train me, so I could be strong enough to take them on. Like it or not, they are my family just as much as my biological family, and you better believe that I will protect them.”

“So you were planning to go there after all? Was the education thing a lie?”

“Not at all. I’m graduating at the end of the month. After that, it will take another month or two to forge the weapon. Then, I’ll find a way to get there. Mark my words. I just hope that I’m not too late by the time I get there.”

I pulled out my sword.

“Maybe she no longer matters to you, but do you think Remora ever wanted you to be like her? What about me? We went through hell to become the kind of people we are, and you’re saying you want to be like that too?”

“You’re right: I wouldn’t want to go through the same things you guys did. I can’t even imagine how you dealt with it. But I’m willing to put myself through hell if I have to for those people, because damn it, they’re worth hell. So we can fight right now if you want to, but I’m not backing down from this. Not when their lives are at stake.”

I let out a single heavy breath, then eased my nerves as I sheathed my blade.

“Fine. I did tell you that I didn’t need to know your reason, but you better understand that there’s no guarantee of success and if you’re not careful, this will cost you your life. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Without a doubt,” she answered without hesitation.

“Very well. We’ll take these materials with us,” and before we could get ready to do so, I spied something beside the boxes of celestial auras. “Hey. You said you wanted to be able to block a bullet?”

She nodded. I picked up the small devices and handed them to her.

“These are miniature bounded fields. I’ll train you how to use them.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

“I still don’t like the idea, but I can tell that your mind’s made up.”

So I grabbed a couple of boxes of the minerals while she carried stacks of cash and the miniature bounded field devices. My load was heavier, but I could take it.

“By the way,” she spoke up while we hauled the items back to the plane, “I don’t remember if I’ve asked, but did you know any janitors named Cronus?”

“No,” I replied, “do you think someone by that name is behind these attacks?”

“Yes. Or someone using that name as an alias. What about someone who ate people alive, or had a big mouth. Anyone like that?”

I had to think back a little, there were so many others, now lost to time.

“There is one person who comes to mind, but I don’t know much about him,” I suggested.

“Who?”

“He had the codename ‘Tarrare’. Apparently his specialty was more akin to a true janitor...as in, he cleaned up messes, all right. From what I heard, the higher ups would find jobs that had to do with disposing of dead bodies, and they’d send him out to devour the corpses. It’s kind of gross to think about, but I guess he had the stomach for that sorta thing.”

“Anything helps. It’s hard to believe there’s any other janitors alive, but I’m not going to rule it out.”

Just a few minutes later, we arrived back on the plane and took off. Demetria handed Cybele the cash, Cybele hugged Demetria tight, and few was spoken after that. In fact, I stewed in my thoughts.

I can’t believe I’m letting her do this. She must have been planning this a while, but how will she manage? For that matter, will she be okay with who she becomes? Or was it who she already was, and she just needed the resources? Then I considered that it must have been the latter.

We returned to the field later in the afternoon. Demetria waved goodbye to Cybele.

“How will you get around without me?” Cybele wondered.

“I’ll figure something out. Besides, I’m sure we’ll meet again soon enough,” Demetria assured Cybele.

“Okay. Stay safe, and remember: you’ve got friends!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Demetria waved off and dismissed. “You take care, yourself.”

As soon as Cybele took off, I turned to Demetria.

“What’s next?” I inquired.

“We keep training, I go to campus to get my degree, and then I take off to get my weapon forged.”

“I see. What kind of weapon do you have in mind?”

She flashed a smile.

“I dunno. I was thinking a sword,” she gave a little wink. So much for originality.

“All right, so we’ll train a bit more, you’ll graduate, but do you even know a blacksmith who can work with this stuff? For that matter, how will you get back to the diner? In case you aren’t aware, normal flights aren’t going near there, and if Ray knew you were coming, he’d try to pull out all stops to keep you away.”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it all out.”

I couldn’t help but smile in response to all that.

“Now I’m curious as to what you’ll come up with.”

She shrugged. Looks like I’d just have to wait and see.

The end of the month came, so too, did the end of spring. Demetria rushed out the door of the shack that morning, laptop and backpack in hand, and woke us all up.

“What’s the rush?” I turned to her, voice all hoarse and groggy.

“It’s my graduation. I’ve gotta get my degree in person. I think it’s dumb, but rules are rules. So going to take a Greyhound bus a few states over. See you in, like, a day at most.”

I clapped.

“Well good for you. It’s like you’re growing up and everything.”

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Anyway, bye.”

“Have a good time,” I waved to her, then she was gone.

Cleaver sat up from his hammock and looked down.

“That kid gone?” He looked around.

“Yeah, but she’ll be back,” I informed him.

“I can’t believe it’s been three months already,” he shook his head. “Crazy, huh? She turned from a pipsqueak to a powerhouse.”

“She was already a powerhouse, she just needed for that power to come to the surface,” I corrected him, “now I wonder if she’s something more than a powerhouse.”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” he climbed down. “I’m going to find some possums to barbecue. Wanna join me in the hunt?”

“I’ll pass. But send my regards to Mange, will ya?”

He grumbled an incomprehensible grumble, then walked out the door.

“I suppose all that’s left for me to do now is wait,” I spoke into the air. Wait for Ray to send me that call, telling me that the place was in danger, or wait for Demetria to return. Wait for so many things, up to and including the prospect of an eternal rest.

So I went around town, I rested in the fields, I swung around the sword, but for the most part, I just sat and waited. On the following afternoon, Demetria returned running toward the shack, with plenty of stamina in tow.

“Hey, welcome back,” I greeted.

“Thanks!” She replied, and there was something different about her, as she was grinning and a glow seemed to surround her.

“You seem in a good mood. How was it?”

“Oh, you know, boring stuff. But you wouldn’t believe who I saw there. It was an old friend who I thought I’d never speak to again, let alone see! I guess we’re really still friends after all. It’s hard to believe,” she seemed to wipe a tear from her eye, and she continued to smile.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Not who you’re thinking!” She backpedaled, and I was a little confused.

“I wasn’t thinking of anyone in particular,” I argued.

“Well, it’s not who you weren’t thinking of in particular, I can tell you that much! It was just an old friend from college. We used to be roommates.”

“Look at you! Being all social and stuff!” I congratulated.

“Stop it. I doubt I’ll see her again. My life’s just heading in a different direction and I probably won’t be able to have as many bright and cheery moments as that one. I have to accept that.”

How unfortunate.

“You should at least allow yourself the moments of happiness you can find,” I advised her.

Her smile lowered down until her face turned more serious.

“Yeah...you’re right.”

Before either of us could say anything else, Demetria’s phone rang, and she answered.

“Would you look at that, perfect timing,” Demetria remarked as whoever was on the other end must have greeted her, “been a while, hasn’t it, Hera?”

Hera? Was that the friend Demetria knew back at her university? I didn’t know, but I continued to listen in.

“Oh my. You want me to come over? Gee, I’d love to do that, but I don’t have any way to get there. I don’t have...how do I put it...the coin.”

You need a coin to get...well, she was probably talking of transportation money. But still, doesn’t she have plenty of money considering what she took at that building?

“Wait. You’ll come get me? Well this changes everything. Okay. Hold on. Slow down. I’ll meet you in Caldwell, Idaho. You can probably find me at a coffee shop. Thanks so much,. Bye.”

She then hung up and looked down where I sat.

“Well, time for me to run down to the city while carrying rocks in my backpack,” she announced, then tossed me her phone.

“Why did you give me this?” I looked down, confused.

“Can you hold onto it for me? Where I’m going, it’s best if I don’t have this.”

I was still confused.

“What am I supposed to do with it? I’m a homeless old bat!” I griped.

“Oh, come on. You’re not that old. Just pretend to be me if anyone texts.”

I shook my head and sighed.

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but what the hell?”

“Thanks! So I’ll see you around!” She rushed out the words and was in such a pose that suggested she was ready to run off then and there.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing,” I cautioned.

“Ha. Do I ever?”

We both allowed ourselves a little bit of a laugh, and then she ran off inside the shack, then ran back out with the backpack on her shoulders. Without so much as looking back, she ran off at once. Before long, her image faded from view. Then I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the shack.

“I think if fate will allow, I’d like to live at least long enough to see how this plays out. If not a little longer,” I sent my wish out into the air. It wasn’t so much of a wish as it was a certain sentimental idea. I wouldn’t have minded if my time came tomorrow, or that very instant.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next 

________________________________________

Chapter 4

Chloe Bourgeois is not having a good day, the National Assembly has spent the whole morning discussing the mayor's ridiculous decisions regarding the orders given to the MT and, indirectly, to the heroes regarding the danger of the new villain.

She's the youngest member of the 577 deputies that make up The National Assembly of the French Parliament, having the minimum age to enter the elections and having demonstrated her worth, far from the stigma of her father as mayor, she won a position. And she has been doing everything possible for the good of France (especially Paris, with the miraculous butterfly still loose).

The arrival of the first Akuma in seven years shocked the entire country. She knows the senate must be chaos too and not to say the presidency, she can only imagine the Elisha Palace on fire with everyone screaming as they run in all directions… Or, a similar scene, many adults almost yelling in panic while pretending not to panic. It's good that the meeting is held in private.

Which brings it back to the real reason for the whole discussion, since the events with Hawkmoth, the French Government has been more involved in what happens (which should have been from the beginning being because is the capital of the country) and they have been active in trying to laws allow arrest for embezzling the use of a prodigy (leading to a long list of crimes). And when she joined, she did her magic and started talking about a way to prevent someone from using the prodigies to misuse, making the MT an organization recognized by the Government for the protection of Paris (therefore, the heroes also have that faculty to be treated as part of a whole) and of France as a whole; they have access to the government, the MT is above the police in power to enforce the law, but always maintaining its independent character (not that someone should know it and she has said nothing, all to prevent Marinette from giving an attack for that).

The entire process involved each State Institution and lasted four months; it was stressful, but two months later, everything is going smoothly and the news no longer mentions prodigies, evidence of jewel magic and any non-butterfly mentions have been removed. Additionally, anyone posting information about the prodigies will face legal charges accordingly.

The only requirement for this was to provide a list of the official members (they didn't ask for identities knowing that it's dangerous), both teams gave their members and it was recently updated with the inclusion of Thuban.

Everyone is aware of the mayor's request and she's smirking, that inept is worse than her father. Ask the MT not to investigate a dangerous criminal who in just one day of his appearance caused at least a hundred deaths with her first Akuma? That the cure of Rakkīgāru (official name since last night, after making it clear that Ladybug is not a cloak with an immovable name) brings everything to its former state does not exonerate the murder.

France designed a maximum underground security prison protected with safeguards similar to those of the MT headquarters, where the most violent criminals are sent (so that they don't become weapons of the new criminal). Unfortunately the safeguards can't be put in all of Paris or they would start to cancel each other, so they use them for the important thing. Suzaku, who is Marinette's vigilant identity, is in charge of all the processes.

But going back to the important thing, she hopes that a new law will be created or the status of the MT within France will be made public.

She, of course, understands Felix and Marinette's plan. Agreeing not to investigate is another way to investigate while relaxing from active work because they went so far to say that the patrols are canceled for the entire week and if they ask, it was the mayor. And it was the two days of silence that led the vice president of the country that morning to send a message to the MT (something funny, if they ask her, just two days and they worry) and, therefore, to find out that the mayor asked them without giving an explanation (said by Corvus, Felix was very specific with his concerns about it and that they didn't want to cause problems with the government). That generated all the meetings she knows are happening.

At lunchtime, she escapes to the MT in search of Marinette or Felix, to tell her about government disaster they caused, to discover that the demonic blonde is in Romania supervising the recording of a movie and that Marinette went to her country house. Oh well, she can tell they after the chaos comes to an end. The only thing she finds is Kagami being hugged by Luka to appease her anger, a gracefully adorable image in her eyes.

____________

Alizee @AlizeeShin_

In my opinion, the government has reacted well to the return of the butterfly. I lived in Paris nine years ago and the government then did nothing. Good for us!

Elliot Renault @Elliot_Renault

The MT has been silent since the Akuma appeared, they have not been seen on the streets or on the roofs. The Government is treating the matter as the problem that it is, since today the institutions were in full swing and surely we will soon have news about it.

Chloe B. @QueenBourgeois

I need urgent vacations, a break from all this madness would be good. I 'm sure that all of Paris has the same desire.

Michel J. Laforet @LaforetLeGrand_

Such a scandal about a man, perhaps the heroes are not so heroic. They only accumulate failures.

Chloe B. @QueenBourgeois

@LaforetLeGrand Soon, all of Paris will know that it was your father, the ridicule that she asked the MT not to investigate, today at 8:00 pm on the National Chain;) ___________________

As the French Parliament catches fire figuratively and almost literally, Marinette is engaged in her little investigative work on the Mayor of Paris and his son, especially his creepy son, still remembering that he had to deter Damian, five months ago, from assaulting his home and murdering him (using methods intended to cause the greatest physical pain as he dies) for harassing her during a party (which they went to just because Chloe took them). Damian was ready to pounce on Michel with the first sharp thing in hand when he saw him put a hand on her butt; in the end, it was Felix who sent him flying politely with an explicit threat in his words.

"Mother, you are still working..." Damian is not happy, especially when he sees the face of the man who dared to lay hands on his mother without his consent (man who should be dead). He doesn't understand why she investigates them.

"I'm just curious, Pierre Laforet doesn't seem like the type who would want to sabotage our work."

"Yeah, Michel Laforet doesn't seem like a sexual depraved either, and I'm sure he's capable of raping a poor defenseless lady." There is poison in his words, he still wants to see him writhe in agony as life slowly leaves him. No man has the right to approach his mother with such impure thoughts.

"Could be..." She replies distractedly, reading on the surface, if she want to go deeper into them, she must do it from the MT.

"Mother, let's play with the dogs. They are happy to see you, too. ”Damian tightens her shirt sleeve to get her attention, not that he enjoys acting like the ten-year-old he is, but his mother needs a break from everything that stresses her out.

"Uh, fine." She closes the laptop and agrees to go out and play with the dogs, which are huge and knock her down as soon as she goes out into the yard, as a bonus, they also do it with Damian and the two ofthem are being overwhelmed with doggy love for four adult dogs, two puppies and a black cat (which is like a miniature dog for being raised by the two German Shepherds), Dafne only watches from the bottom in disgust.

Hugo watches everything from the kitchen window, listening slightly to Marinette's laughter and Damian's humorous complaints. The employees whisper beside her about how excitable canines are with their owners.

Those little happy moments are necessary to face the difficulties that arise and enjoy them to the best of your ability.

__________

Violet @SilkenLavanda

There was an explosion in or near the Louvre... I can see the fire from here. I doubt it's an Akuma...

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

An explosion is reported around the Louvre Museum, people are invited to keep their distance. Authorities confirm that the cause was a bomb, two fatalities and eleven wounded. More information in the 6 o'clock newsletter.

Max K. @ MaxKan_Tech

What was missing…

[masterhandss]

This is just my opinion on hamefura, but I wish the author just ended at v1 for the light novel. The ending there was perfect for me. Sometimes, author need to know the right time to end, and there's no need to drag further or the thing that attract the reader might become tiring. Reading that Katarina got hardly character development make me sad. Sometimes I just wish her to stop being oblivious and realized the dead flag are gone!

SPOILER FOR A BIT OF THE LIGHT NOVELS 

You mean by V1, you mean Arc 1 (Volume 2) right? (aka where the Fortune Lover game ends) I can totally understand where you’re coming from. This is just my personal opinion though, since i’m a dumb little bean so I can’t really speak much for future volumes since all the spoilers I know are either from reddit or @spacupanda (and I can’t even remember them all because of my pea brain) but it does get annoying. Katarina kind of walks in this fine line where she seems to be or at least wants to mature, but has to revert back into an idiot when the plot needs it to. It’s not to say that she doesn’t grow at all by Volume 6 (the current volume that has an English translation) since she does have the desire to act and become an adult while slowly becoming more self aware of her surroundings (at least her brain can comprehend the concept of sexual advances now, in a way). I heard from spoilers for future volumes that she genuinely wants to understand the world of Sorcier and has a desire to help make it better, which is a lot coming from someone who saw the world as half a video game and half as her life. Katarina is also aware of Keith and Gerald’s feelings now, so that’s a plus.

Since you probably came from the Volume 4 post I reblogged, all I can say is that my brain turned off during half of the contents of that book, and it felt like the author prioritized establishing future events and testing the post-FL1 waters that the writing ended up suffering. It gets better in Volume 6, in my opinion (since both volumes involves the cast going on a trip to do something).

In the author’s defense, I’ve head that it really was supposed to end in Volume 2, but they were convinced to write more because the light novels was gaining popularity. I know that some might say that the author should have put his foot down and ended the series there, but I feel like there is still so much to tell about the story and world of HameFura. Granted, what we have so far isn’t too satisfying, and there’s a lot that could have been tweaked to make it better, but the characters and setting of the series is too good to just end so quickly so I can understand what the executives were thinking. 

Again, spoilers for future volumes (aka Vol. 6) but Katarina’s flags aren’t gone yet. It’s kind of worse than before actually (since she either dies alongside Maria in every route or thrown in jail). This is kind of why I wanted to elaborate my feelings on extending the novels because depending on your stance on the matter, the existence of more doom flags can either be a blessing or a curse. I’m just assuming this but unlike Arc 1 Fortune Love 1, I think by Volume 10 (the next JP volumes), I think Fortune Lover 2 isn’t done yet? As long as some sort of doom flag exists, she can’t completely live in peace (as that’s just how she works) so I think the author is trying to find a balance between letting her learn about the world and maturing as a person while keeping the established mantra of her doom flags being a looming threat to her character (both literally and figuratively).

By Volume 7, Katarina would be 18 which most people would assume is the point to which she’ll start maturing and acting like an adult because it’s the point where Katarina is finally living a life beyond her escaped-death and her actual death. I haven’t heard too much about how her character has changed in those Volumes, but i’m assuming it’s mostly the same. I feel like if they could at least explain why Katarina’s character is sort of stagnant, I would be a little bit okay with it. Like say it’s an outcome of her friends and her parents being too lenient on her, preventing her form making decisions on her own or something like that. 

That’s just my opinion though, sorry if this reply is all over the place haha my brain isnt working correctly today hahaha. Thanks for the ask!

[nejisrightkneecap]

KIRIBAKU FIC RECS

 HAVE READ WAY TOO MANY KIRIBAKU FICS AS OF RECENTLY SO HERES A RECOMMENDATION LIST:

- the laundry room ; dellsey //https://archiveofourown.org/works/11567502 It’s a really cute quick fic about special moments Kirishima and Bakugou are able to share while they wait for their laundry to finishes :) - The Beauty of a Beast ; starofjems // https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563575/chapters/15017230 A Beauty and the Beast AU!!! It’s a longer fic, but 100% worth the read. The author is SO good at portraying the characters personalities.

- Heart Strings ; starofjems //https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232415 This one is also by starofjems!! Although it is a lot shorter, it is still AMAZING. Bakugou is able to see a red string that connects soul mates together and eventually Kirishima stumbles by. - Spooky times & cuddles ; Jartz // https://archiveofourown.org/works/8423458 A VERY cute short fic about Kirishima going over to Bakugou’s house for halloween! It’s good to read any season though. - Who’s Next? ; MyBlackCrimsonRose// https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872574/chapters/17979370 Bakugou gets hella hurt during a fight and Kirishima is a BADASS in getting revenge. This one is also a quick read and I highly suggest it!! - the easy parts ; chonideno // https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794481

Kirishima gets hurt and is informed that there will be a lot of scarring. It’s follows him through his struggle of insecurity regarding the scars and his acceptance. - it’s pouring out here ; shizuumi151 // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431818 Kirishima is on a basketball team with Bakugou and he is the team captain. Kirishima has a crush on him and they have a little run in after getting caught in the rain. - 2am Knows All Secrets ; Unbreakable_red_riot // https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738770/chapters/20035240 OH MY GOSH THIS FIC!! I really love the concept of Bakugou having nightmares about Kamino and the author does an amazing job at showing his difficulties with them. Kirishima keeps waking up to loud noises from Bakugou’s room and goes to scope it out; resulting in a few sleepovers... -  Shitty Hair and Shitty Nightmares honest_pebble //https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745419 (I have so many nightmare fics oops!) Bakugou is struggling with nightmares and Kirishima is a good friend and helps while Bakugou figures himself and his feelings out.

- a heart swelled to bursting ; eggstasy // https://archiveofourown.org/works/7350946/chapters/16697356 This fic literally stole my heart and has to be one of my favorites. It’s the next summer and they are back at the training camps, but Bakugou has been repressing some worries. It’s a very Bakugou centric story, following him dealing with PTSD with help from other characters. - Let Me Save You ; lovelylittlefruit // https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016766 A short story showing the after effects of a battle where Kirishima saved Bakugou. This is more angst/conflict than fluff but I do still recommend it!! - safe & sound ; Authoress // https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835363 This one made my heart SO happy and soft jeez ahaha. Bakugou has to be kept in a safe house after Kamino because of more threats and Kirishima is his comfort buddy. - not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all ; theroyalsavage // https://archiveofourown.org/works/7612939 AAAA!!! It’s a “10 Things I Hate About You” AU and its REALLY good even if you haven’t seen the movie. Very sweet and the character personalities are done really well. - heart stains on the carpet ; cityboys //https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085671/chapters/16104262 THIS STOLE ALL MY UWU’S AND MORE! Kirishima is Bakugou’s live in body guard who got a little closer to him than he had planned. Very cute and has some of the best dialogue I’ve read in a fic. Definitely goes with my favorites. - how they got detention for a week ; eggstasy //https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961186 Kirishima is determined to go out with Bakugou no matter how intimidating that may seem. Kaminari tries to stop him but it’s no use. I really enjoyed reading this and I loved how the authors incorporated the Bakuquad!! - How To Make Bakugou Katsuki a Decent Human Being ; keptein // https://archiveofourown.org/works/6693406 Kirishima is set on making Bakugou a nicer guy no matter what it takes. (Even if that means pulling a Pavlov on him) but along the way he catches feelings. - ten things i learnt about you ; tamacchannn // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532900 A very soft fic about Bakugou realizing things that he likes about Kirishima. Made me gush quite a few times. - don’t count on me to tell you when ; newamsterdam // https://archiveofourown.org/works/10948695 GOD I LOVE THIS ONE TOO. It’s set in the future when they are pro-heros. Kirishima come back to see Bakugou and confess his feelings, but they end up just being friends with benefits for awhile. Very well written - do right by you ; kyoutimes // https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyoufushi81/pseuds/kyoutimes Kirishima and Bakugou are working together and Kirishima has a crisis about his sexuality. (There’s more to it than that but I don’t wanna spoil it :P) I loved the emotion in this AAAA - yes, you say you’d like to ; Authoress // https://archiveofourown.org/works/10660773 Kirishima invites a few friends to the beach, which eventually lead to THE WHOLE CLASS joining. He didn’t want to invite Bakugou, strictly because he didn’t want to get turned on at at the beach. - Kiss your knuckles before you punch me ; Claus_Lucas // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574039/chapters/26006592 Bakugou saves Kirishima who is a boxer by lighting some of his own fireworks. I don’t know how much I can give away without spoiling it, but this is on my top three. While proud of Kirishima, Bakugou needs to remind him of his limits regarding his boxing career. - what he thinks he knows ; lovelylittlefruit // https://archiveofourown.org/works/18060950/chapters/42685514

Mainly Bakugou sided? It follows Bakugou as he realizes that there more to the assumptions he makes about his crush, Kirishima. It’s unfinished but I’m excited to see the rest soon!! - good to you ; Authoress // https://archiveofourown.org/works/6904558 Takes place directly after Kamino. The two boys refuse to stop holding hands which leads to other conclusions. I love this sm, I had very soft moments and there’s a cute little twist that I LOVED at the end. - An obvious patch ; SweetScentences // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061918 Shinsou steals Bakugou’s eggs and Kirishima gets stabbed all the while. JK, there’s more to it than that,,, this is one of those fics I feel like it’s best enjoyed if you go in blind. I enjoyed every minute of this fic, laughed and teared up. - But for now, I’m with you; eikoexe // https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135834/chapters/18649226 A really goofy and cute texting fic!! Kirishima accidentally texts Bakugou thinking it’s Kaminari demanding a Dorito stealing confession. It’s still being written but I do love it very much so far. Read if you need a laugh!! (Sadly, it’s been over a year since the last update so I’m not expecting it to continue soon :()

-neon season; chonideno // https://archiveofourown.org/works/14716277

I really love this author jeez. It’s a road trip fic and these boys are very frustrated with their feelings toward each other (Mainly Bakugou lolololol) The way emotions are written is amazing and I fell in love with how they portrayed Kirishima and Bakugou.

-the color red; ayadormouse // https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156871/chapters/16249418

G o d . . . This is like a coffee shop/college AU and it holds a lot of family angst for Bakugou. Bakugou is an artist and Kirishima is persistent in getting know the angry guy that doesn’t know how to order coffee. Heroes and quirks are more of an old myth/history type thing, but there still are mentions of it.

-downhill; eggstasy // https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551482

Kirishima is a mom friend and loves learning small facts about his friends while in the dorms. This has almost every class 1-A character in it which I love because not a lot of authors write about some of the mpre minor roles. They play truth or dare and it gets out of hand.

-Of course I was worried; Ellieb3an // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11778534

Kirishima gets hurt after his big fight in the manga (so there are spoilers) but he gets confused when Bakugou doesn’t visit him in the hospital and avoids him when he returns to the dorms. Bakugou is just a secret softy who was worried about his mans. I love seeing the softish side of Bakugou aaaa.

-The Wild Side; Mishelledor23 // https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973662/chapters/42453836\

Kirishima and Bakugou are married and in Kirishima’s mind, everything is going great. Until, he wakes up one morning to see a letter and Bakugou’s wedding ring. My heart breaks for Kirishima in this one, and I’m so curious as to why Bakugou left. (It’s on going!) Kaminari and Mina are also present and go help Kiri with a mission.

-Roses are red and they taste like shit; Unbreakable_Red_Riot // https://archiveofourown.org/works/11747658/chapters/26475072

A Bakugou hanahaki disease fic, this is also high on my favorites list. I couldn’t put it down for the life of me. Mutual pining eventually, but it focuses in mainly on Bakugou and his families way of dealing with the disease.

-little are the things we learn; newamsterdam //  https://archiveofourown.org/works/11400303

The two boys never outright tell their class they are dating, but 5 of them figure it out and each one of them is stunned by their relationship. Perfect mix of angst and fluff, told from different characters perspectives as they see and analyze the two.

- Detonate; theroyalsvage // https://archiveofourown.org/works/6933307

Bakugou is acting weird and a little insecure almost at a party he was invited to. Kirishima finds him on the roof and tries to figure the explosive boy out.

-Trash Goblin Finds Love; wrunic // https://archiveofourown.org/works/17888012

Another coffee shop AU with a scientist Bakugou. This one made me giggle and the writing is so in character. I love how it ends and Kirishima is a big cutie in this one.

-Radio Silence; doop_doop // https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186643/chapters/37824590

After getting hit with a coma quirk, Kirishima is bedridden and can’t move. Although his body is asleep, he can hear everything that is going on. So naturally, his friends visit him as much as possible to keep the guy entertained. But Bakugou realizes there’s something more to his feelings for Kirishima. (this shit is so cute, Bakugou reads to him)

-one to ten; crunchrapsupreme //https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770692

Kirishima wants to ask Bakugou out, but Kaminari demands that he becomes friends with him first. So Kirishima sets out to become a ‘Level 10’ friend to Bakugou. (This one is also very cute, Bakugou is a cat lover and it makes me melt.)

-out of sight, within reach; Poteto //https://archiveofourown.org/works/11750853 

Gahhhh oblivious mutual pining makes me w e a k… Bakugou realizes he loves Kirishima while dragging his drunk body back to his house. Jealousy and miscommunication from both sides until there is an emergency and Bakugou drops his grudge.

That’s about it! Feel free to add more in the comments :)

[rachelillustrates]

An Exploration of Kiliel

OKAY, fandom thoughts on my art blog because of Story Study.

My Wife and I finally watched The Hobbit movies, so I’ve finally gotten to Kiliel (..... ❤ ) and I have some headcanons/thoughts about Tauriel’s introduction to the story, the flow of their romance, and what’s important.

(So this will be part meta, part headcanon as I sort that out.)

What’s striking me right away - other than the fact that I came into these movies ALREADY shipping them and am damn pleased about it, thanks Tumblr - is that we are given.... well, bupkis on Tauriel’s motivations and backstory. And the person I’m watching these movies with, who I love very much, was quick to point out that her introduction and immediate positioning as a Romantic Female Lead could read very shallow to the casual viewer.

(Which I am not, thank the Gods.)

So, what of Tauriel’s backstory and deeper life goals? Digging into the fandom, I found notes that her parents were killed by Orcs when she was young, and that Legolas took her under his wing afterward (making him her mentor, and thus making the idea of their romance even less attractive to me, since that means he would hold even MORE sway and authority over her and there would be very little equality for her there. Also, Gimli).

But that’s it. And we’re not given that in the main plot of the movie at all.

What we are given is the information that she’s conscious of the dangers to the outside world, and wants to protect her people by stopping those dangers at the source, despite contrary orders from her King.

So what I think the movie intended, with that scene where she talks to the Elvenking about her concerns and how she immediately chooses to go after the Dwarves later - motivated primarily by the thought of saving Kili - is that Tauriel has a deeper drive to help save the whole world from the threats she sees to it. Because of what happened to her parents, because she knows the spiders are coming from outside their borders, etc. The featurette “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest” says of her “She has a great curiosity of other races, of the world outside - she literally hasn’t been anywhere...” (mentioned in part 2, part 1 is here). So, to me, her motivations for leaving Mirkwood include that - as well as saving this Dwarf she feels an inexplicably deep bond with already.

On that note, I wish they had gone a bit deeper into her and Kili's immediate connection than what we were shown. I do appreciate how she insisted on fending for herself, in their Battle Couple introduction, and how Kili immediately accepted her for who she is - the trousers joke was, admittedly, a little uncomfortable for me due to personal reasons, but I think it could be read as him meeting her aggression in battle with aggressive flirting, and in that light, her positive response to it (in what she said to Legolas, and in returning to check on him of her own volition) makes a lot more sense to me. And while I really enjoyed and understood the Feast of Starlight scene, those less romance-genre minded than myself may not have understood that as deep "enough” (for more of the intentions of the plot in that scene and the take the actors had on it, click here. Includes a hysterical Leoglas moment at the end!). 

Rewatching it, I do see and recognize how deep their connection is and how meaningful what they choose to share of themselves is - especially with the idea of Kili honoring and respecting (nay, being attracted to) her ferocity, and the fact that most of her kin probably don't automatically respect her for such things. The sexism among the Elves is not as bad as it is with humans, but it is still there. Who knows how much Tauriel has had to fight for her place as the Captain of the Guard, being a woman. And again, it probably wasn’t as bad for her as it was for, say, Eowyn - but no matter how much space there is for women to step up and be active agents of the story in the mythology of the world, Tolkien didn’t choose to make women part of the action, actively, most of the time. So the world still reads as a mostly Men-at-War, Women-at-Home place. And that has to have had an impact on Tauriel’s life. And in addition to how charming Kili is, just as himself, the fact that he sees that part of her, respects her and admires her FOR it, must hold a lot of weight.

Another part of what I've seen, in re-immersing myself in the fandom now, has been this idea that both Kili's culture and Tauriel's culture have an idea of soulmates, the One person who, when you meet them, shakes you to your core, and you are never the same again. I really think that's what the writing was going for (see Evangeline Lily’s comments in part 2 of “Tauriel: Daughter of the Forest,” particularly), but it wasn't given the space and depth that it needed to be apparent on surface level of casual viewing. 

So, from my fangirling perspective, I imagine that they both felt that right away, but were so surprised by it - because of the unexpectedness of their circumstances, and the animosity between their peoples- that they didn't know how to handle it, and fell into awkward humor, and slightly clumsy attempts to get to know each other as they tried to sort it out.

I imagine that Tauriel's outright denial of any connection to Legolas, and immediate acceptance of his father's racism toward her in that context, was also swayed by her newfound feelings. They (Tauriel and Kili) probably did talk more, as well, about their families and their deepest dreams after the Feast of Starlight scene cut off. We just aren’t given that information.

(Anyone else for a romantic adventure Kiliel-centric mini series?)

Then of course, we are given the healing scene. What I got from this, beyond their romance, was that Tauriel always looks to be helpful. When she takes the athelas from Bofur, she looks like she’s had a revelation. She realizes she can help, she can heal Kili, and that gives her an outlet of action for all the confusing feelings she’s having. She goes right into business mode about that - and Kili, all pained and fevered, barely realizes it’s her. But when he does, he looks at her in wonder (with a fever-dream angelic view of the magic around her, even! Sidenote - I LOVE how messy her hair was. Both beauty and realistic adventure life). And she looks back at him with such serious kindness, telling him to trust her, without words. Of course, he does....only to then believe that she wasn’t there at all, and spill his heart out to this apparition of the person he already knows he loves.

And in that, he is so sure that she’s beyond his reach, even though he knows he loves her already. Even though as he talks about how she’s on another level of existence than his, his action is still to reach for her hand, still reaching for her, despite the words he’s saying. He still wants to believe it is possible - that they are possible - even as he’s trying to accept that they can never be.

Which, of course, leads into the beach scene. After the whirlwind of surviving Smaug’s attack, too (extra shoutout to the writing there, regarding Tauriel and Bard’s children - she’s aware enough to realize that Bard’s son is the only one of the three of them that might have had any sliver of training for situations like this, because human misogyny, so she uses that to protect all of them - “Your sisters will die if we stay here,” etc. - but as soon as he runs off to help his father, she still makes the girls her priority, as well as the Dwarves. Headcanoning that if Kili had survived, and they married and moved into Erebor, she would have damn well taught those girls how to fight).

Anyway, back to the beach. I think my favorite part of that moment, other than the Heart Wrenching Perfection of what Kili says to her (and how it’s acted!), is that he has realized that she wasn’t a fever dream after all - that he did, in fact, say all those potentially embarrassing romantic feely-feels things right to her actual face - and instead of being embarrassed, he just GOES for it. He is that sure. Sure enough, that even when she can’t let herself reciprocate his feelings (even though she clearly does - and she doesn't say no, btw, she is interrupted by Legolas' arrival and thusly the reminder of her duty and her 'place') he then gives her the token from his mother, to let her know she’ll always be in his heart, no matter what she decides. And he almost doesn't, he almost leaves, but turns back in the last moment, in that desperate, loving attempt to try again. No matter how impossible it seems.

MY freaking heart.

Also, when Tauriel then learns of her banishment, she looks shaken at first - but quickly, almost relieved. See here, at about 39 seconds in. She has clearly been fighting against her own heart each moment since Kili came into her life - even though, as I mentioned before, he provides a grand excuse for her to go help other people beyond Mirkwood’s borders. And now, released from the obligations she has to her people, to her King, who doesn’t fully respect her anyway, she is free to do what she could not just moments ago. She is free to choose her own path - to follow her heart, and her ambitions to help the world.

Of course, she follows Legolas first - the path of least resistance being to follow her mentor and Prince. And I get from that that she’s shut herself off from her own emotions for so long - likely due to her parent’s death, early in her life - that she really doesn’t know what to do with herself, in that freedom, and in love. So, following her nearest authority figure, giving herself a moment to breathe and decide later, seems natural.

But, luckily, that path leads right back Erebor.

And unluckily, right into the tragic ending.

But first, she confronts the Elvenking (who has banished her, and therefore freed her, though that was not his intention) about his refusal to stay and help. His concern for his own people, again, will lead to them not being there to save the lives of others suffering in the world around them. And she’s not having that - in general, even if a large part of it is her love for Kili. The script focuses only on that love - with Thranduil refusing to accept that she really loves Kili, comparing what he imagines she feels to what he felt for his late wife, it seems - but there is so much in her whole narrative that has already pointed to her desire to help the whole world, even before she lets herself start feeling for Kili. And this moment plays right into that deeper motivation.

Of course, her story being a romance, finding and protecting Kili is her first priority. And sadly, that goes, as we know, badly.

It bothers me a LOT that she “had” to be damseled in the Big Fight. BUT. We at least get the strength of their connection before she gets trampled by Bolg (and the surety of her voice when she calls for him, and the focus that hearing her, and his calling back out to her, gives him - yes. It’s subtle, but its very strong and very there). And at least they get to see each other one last time - Kili knows, no matter what happens, she chose to come after him after all.

And all the emotion, in her watching him die, and him realizing what they’ve lost even though she did choose him.....ugh. My heart, again. They are both just so clearly broken - Tauriel so confused, not able to accept that its come to this, after she chose to find him, after everything. Kili so brokenhearted that after all his hoping - after she chose him back - they still can’t be together (not to mention the fact that he’s just lost his brother, too, the only other person we see him love as intensely as her). And then, in the last moments of (this part of) the fight, when Kili is gone and Tauriel is alone again, her pain is so great, her anger so clear, her love so deep, she is willing to use her own momentum and throw herself off the tower’s edge with Bolg, just to try and make for damn sure that he pays for what he’s done.

(I will forever maintain that the fact that that didn’t kill him - that SHE didn’t get to kill him - is a travesty. Especially with his murder of Kili, but also for the gross tongue thing. Very uncomfortable with what that implied.)

I’m gonna skip over the intervention of Legolas to save her life, cause that’s not important here, suffice to say that once again I am Pissed as Hell that they felt the need to damsel her so much. Sigh. I must assume, from a writing standpoint, that they chose to nerf her in this battle because she’s never been involved in war like this - fights to protect Mirkwood, yes, but not War Battle. HOWEVER, there are ways for them to have written through that and not made her look so weak. Especially considering that she is a seasoned warrior - AND had fought Orcs before, as we saw in “The Desolation of Smaug” - and between her and Kili, who one of Thorin’s strongest warriors, they should have at least been able to do better together. Crudmuffins! That, of course, would have messed with the outcome of the source material, but who of us would really be complaining? Hmm? (Sorry Tolkien.)

Their canon story ends, of course, with Tauriel having to come to terms with her feelings and Kili’s death all at once. As as much as I spent most of the movies harshing on Thranduil (except to honor how fabulous he is, stylistically and attitude-wise, and make as many Party Elk jokes as I could), i am glad they brought him back for this scene - not only that he gave Legolas a direction away from mooning over Tauriel, but that he got to help Tauriel accept what had happened (in his own blunt way). The way he watches her here, and looks at her, I feel like he’s really seeing her and accepting her as a person and not below him for the first time. I’m also headcanoning, since we know that Tauriel was orphaned and bonded with Legolas soon after (as her mentor - and honestly, I read their relationship as more of a broship/sibling situation), I feel like she was taken under the wing of his household - not because he approved, but because it was the Right Thing and probably looked good to his people, even if he couldn’t fully accept her due to her heritage. I also feel like the fact that she asks him to take the love away from her, since it hurts so much, also points to a more parental role than he would admit. If your heart was broken, who else would you ask to take those feelings from you - at that first heartbreak - than a parent?

But of course, he can’t - all he can do is finally admit, despite his earlier insistence otherwise, that her love for Kili IS real (I feel like he might have gone through something absolutely similar with his wife’s passing - finding her falling in battle, mourning over her body). And that smashes any hope she had that she could keep denying how she feels - it passes over her face, visibly and physically, that shock that he’s admitting it, then frustrated realization that if it’s real, she can’t deny her feelings anymore and can’t close her heart to it, and then just pure pain again as she realizes what she had and the full measure of what she’s lost.

And then she kisses him, as if she’s sealing that love and acceptance - the only time, super duper heart-stabbingly tragically, that she’ll ever get to you know, according to this version of the story.

I can only hope that afterward, Tauriel chose to honor herself and Kili’s memory by continuing to help the world at large, in her exile. And that she surprise and “oh shit”-ness of Thranduil’s expression upon realizing that an Elf could truly love a Dwarf means that he will be kinder to Legolas when he brings Gimli home.

Now, as far as the runestone goes, I initially wanted to believe that Tauriel would take it back after she gave it back to Kili in death, maybe to return it to his mother on a well-intentioned trip to meet her, to give them both closure. However, upon learning about what’s specifically written ON the stone, I have a different thought - Middle Earth News points out here that the runes on it translate to “Return to me.” Obviously, at its creation and initial giving, that was about Kili’s mother bidding her reckless son to come home safe. But when Kili gave the stone to Tauriel on the beach, he made it theirs as well. He bid Tauriel to return to him by giving it to her. And so now, in returning it to him upon his death, Tauriel bids Kili in turn to return to her, death be damned.

So while at first glance, that returning of the runestone may look like Tauriel denying her feelings again, its really a further, even more solid gesture of that acceptance. And honestly, to me, an expression of hope.

And I feel like hope is what really strikes me, about this ship. They have SO much potential, not only in how little we’ve been given of them in canon, but the potential they see in each other in those brief moments where they obviously imagine what their lives could be like, if they could be. One of my favorite shows says, early in its story, “Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a powerful thing.” And that is exactly what I see in them, and why they strike me as so wonderful. They are hope, and the belief in love despite all odds against them, despite all the darkness around them.

And no matter how shakily that might appear to be set up, that is gorgeous, at its heart and root.

And if you got this far in all my scattered ramblings, thank you!

(The art above is my own, btw. For more of my own star-crossed inter-fantasy-racial height-difference queer fae, click here 💕 )

~~~

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