#go out in a blaze of glory: william / open

[totheblood]

i still hear you. (prologue)

PAIRING: post tlou2!ellie williams x reader

SUMMARY: ellie stumbles upon your self-run town after her life is destroyed, except there's more to this town then what meets the eye. and it seems like there is more to you too.

WARNINGS: 18+ mentions of death, grief, related subjects; cursing, mentions of drinking/drugs, mentions of s*x

A/N: i've been working on this one for a while... i hope you enjoy! please send asks, reblog, and reply to this post <;3

WORD COUNT: 3k

"i still hear you laughing, but only for a minute"

Spring couldn’t come fast enough for Ellie. 

The cold still nipped at the exposed skin on her hands, ghosting the phantom limbs of the two fingers she was now missing. Everything was cold. The tip of her nose, her ears, and most importantly her heart. As she wandered aimlessly, unsure of where to go, she knew there was one place she couldn’t go: home. 

Jackson was no longer a place for her. Joel was gone, Tommy thought she was weak, and Dina…Well, Dina wanted nothing to do with her. Dina had a lot she could blame Ellie for before Ellie left, but she never did. She stayed. And now, on top of all of that, Ellie had left one of the few people in her life who cared enough about her to stay. Spring could come tomorrow but it would forever be winter inside her. 

She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she was going west. She couldn’t handle the harsh winters of the East Coast, and Wyoming stopped feeling like home before she left for Seattle. She thought about staying on the farm and living out whatever short life she was going to have there, but staying in that home painted with memories of “what ifs” would drive her crazy. 

So she packed enough supplies to last her a few months if she hunted her food and headed to the West Coast. The first few days were silent, she only encountered a few infected and found shelter in abandoned buildings. She lived off of expired food she found in vending machines in old universities and occasionally sang herself to sleep. 

On her tenth day, she found a car that lasted her about 2 days. Once it broke down, she just kept walking. Over abandoned highways and thick forests, she just kept walking. On day 17, she reached California and stumbled upon an eerily similar set of walls. It looked just like the gates at Jackson, except these were concrete and better built. They were much higher, and the gates almost looked… automatic. 

Ellie was hesitant. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she definitely wasn’t looking for another hometown to destroy. She approached the large walls cautiously, with her hands up and slowly. As she walked closer she was screaming, “I come in peace,” over and over again. She was almost 50 feet near the gate when she heard a girl's voice shout, “Don’t come any closer.”

She stopped in her tracks as the automatic gates began to open. Ellie expected an army of people with guns blazing, just how it was when she first arrived at Jackson, but when the gates opened there just stood you, grounded in all your glory, and a gun aimed right at her face. She wanted to laugh, but that just seemed sexist. 

Instead, you pressed forward, unwavering, with your gun aimed right at her. She didn’t step backward, or even breathe, she just stood there until you were close enough to her to make out all the freckles on her face and the slit in her eyebrow. 

“Who are you?” you spat at her.

“Ellie,” she breathed out, her hands faltering a bit. 

With your hand firmly wrapped around the cold metal of the gun, you inched forward again, pulling back the slide, a metallic click echoing in the silence. The gun was loaded, and you were letting Ellie know that you weren’t afraid to shoot. Her hands stiffened again. 

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was tough and the look on your face was enough to send Ellie running for the hills, but it also made her want to crack a smile. Your nose scrunched up as you spoke, and your lips were somehow not chapped in this weather. But Ellie didn’t smile, she was sure if she did you would put one right between her eyes. That much she was sure of.

“I-” Ellie hadn’t thought this far. What was she doing here? “I’m just looking for a place to stay.” 

Your eyebrows creased as you gave her a once over, looking for any sign she was trouble. It was in your nature to search for danger, but she wasn’t raising any red flags. Except the fact that she made it here alone and unscathed, and was missing two fingers. 

“What happened to your hand?” you asked, tipping the gun slightly to her hand. A pained expression crossed her face, it was almost like she forgot that two of her fingers were quite literally bitten off, but that fight was somewhere shoved deep inside her mind. It wasn’t something she wanted to remember.

“Lost them in a fight,” she replied simply, there was no point in telling the full story. It’s not like you had the time. 

“You can’t stay here if you’re going to be trouble,” finally you put the gun down, resting your hands on your hips, giving her a firm look. Ellie would hand it to you, you were absolutely scary. In her mind, she knew she could take you, but she also wasn’t so sure of that.  

“I’m,” she sighed, lowering her hands slowly, “I’m done with that. I won’t be trouble,” and for the first time in Ellie’s life, she meant that. She was ready to start over. She knew the fighter in her would always be there, itching to come out but she had been fighting her whole life. It was time to give up. She had already lost everything. Or so she thought. 

Your face softened slightly before firming up again, your empathy peeking through like it always did. You looked her over again, sighing, as you signaled for someone at the gate to come. A man with short blonde hair trotted over, a leash in his hand. He looked kind as he offered a smile to Ellie.

“Old girl here is just gonna check to make sure you’re not infected,” he smiled, dropping the leash. Ellie’s heart rate picked up again as she watched the German Shepherd approach her slowly, sniffing around her as it circled her. You stood behind the blonde guy with your arms crossed across your chest. The dog found nothing and returned to the man, sitting down next to him, “Looks like you’re all clear!”

“Welcome to Mono City,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes as you turned back towards the gate, walking in that direction. You were halfway there when you realized Ellie wasn’t moving. Turning on your heel again you stared at her, hand on your hip again. You had an attitude, Ellie thought, cute. “You coming or what?”

The small town sat on a large lake, glistening as the sun's rays bounced off the surface. Buildings were built close together, trees without leaves scattered on the walkway, and about a hundred people out on the street as she trailed behind you, earning dirty looks from half of them. Ellie scowled back. Ellie smiled when you introduced yourself to her, telling her your name and a few key details about yourself. She learned you served as some sort of mayor here, keeping everything in order, and that you were the person that people came to. She would be lying if she said that didn’t intimidate her. But all Ellie did was give you her name again and tell you that she was from Jackson, anything else she said would fall short. 

“How are you with your hands?” you asked, voice flat and simple. Ellie choked on her words, stuttering a response. 

“I’m, well,” she coughed, “I’m just okay with them now, since,” she shrugged gesturing to what she now called her ‘bad hand’, “you know.”

A wave of guilt crossed your face as you composed yourself, somehow already forgetting your previous interaction. You shook your head solemnly, cursing quietly under your breath as you stopped. 

“Shit,” you turned to her, eyes squeezed shut, “sorry, I’m so used to asking the same questions, I didn’t even think.”

“It’s fine don’t worry about it,” she gave a tight-lipped smile. Now, with the illumination of the buildings, she could see your whole face. You were pretty, that she was sure of, but it was a more down-to-earth pretty. A type of pretty that you had to take in. You had scars around your face, and a pretty big scar down the side of your neck. It almost looked like the one Ellie had on her arm. But still, scars and all, you were just nice to look at. 

“Well, just for that reason we probably won’t have you be on guard duty,” you stated, eyes flicking around her face, “do you have any other strengths?”

“Uhm,” Ellie had to think for a minute. She had never really been asked anything like this before. What were her strengths? Did she have any at all? She used to be good at guitar, but now she couldn’t play, and that probably wouldn’t be useful at all to anyone here. She was good at art still, something she couldn’t take for granted anymore. It was all she had. The scratched-out drawings of Dina, JJ, Jesse, and Joel were stuffed deep into her bag.

“I’m good at art,” she shrugged, “and writing, maybe.”

“Okay,” you smiled, showing off your teeth, making her warm a bit, “that we can work with. Maybe you can teach at the school.”

“You have a school here?” Ellie gawked. Jackson had a school but it was small and had maybe two or three teachers. 

“Yeah,” you turned to keep walking, making Ellie stumble behind you to keep up, “we have three. An elementary, middle, and high school.”

“Wow,” Ellie was in awe, “It’s not like a military school or anything?” 

“No,” you answered quickly, your voice tight, “It’s not like any of that shit. We don’t fuck with FEDRA here.”

Ellie would be lying if she said that wasn’t music to her ears.

“It’s just like a normal school except we teach a lot more practical things. Things we can use like, cooking, science, and English. Like reading or writing. Since you’re new you will probably start with the elementary school. We also have little extracurriculars and we’ve wanted to introduce art but haven’t been able to find anyone yet.”

“Oh, cool,” was all Ellie said as you both stumbled on what looked like a residential street. There were rows of houses, all that looked the same. There was a road, with cars parked on them and driveways with gates. Most of the houses looked about two stories tall, some had toys lying in the front yards and a few animals were roaming about, small cats and dogs. The porches had furniture on them, little couches and chairs, and as she walked she noticed some people outside with mugs in their hands as if they were drinking their morning coffee. The town looked like something she saw out of a movie, only something she could dream about. Her eyes were wide in awe as you rambled on about something but Ellie was honestly too entranced in everything. Here, in the middle of nowhere was a whole town of people living their lives, as if nothing had ever happened to them. 

“Ellie?” you stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms over your chest. There was your attitude again, “are you even listening?”

“Y-yeah, I am. It’s just-”

“A lot, I know,” you sighed, “but you gotta listen, there are a lot of rules here. Rules that make this place function and if you don’t follow them, you could easily be kicked out.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, genuinely meaning it, “I’m listening, promise.”

“It’s fine,” you gave her a fake smile, turning to push open a gate to a nice house, “This will be your place.”

“Uhm,” Ellie stopped, not entering the front yard, “what do you mean ‘my place’? This is far too big for me.”

“This is the only size our houses come in,” you replied matter-of-factly, “you can just say thank you.”

Ellie blinked as she looked up at the blue house, that looked like it was built yesterday. It had a wrap-around porch and two white columns right by the entrance. The door was a giant white door with a gold handle. This was nicer than any house she’s ever been in, and way too big for one girl.  

“Thank you,” Ellie replied, still awe-struck, “this is just so nice.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, fishing around in your bag for something. You pulled out a pair of keys, and handed them to her, “Here’s your house keys. You don’t get a car quite yet, that’s something you have to work your way up to, but there is a bike in the garage. Spring is around the corner so it will get warmer and you should have your car by next winter so don’t worry too much. My house is right across the block, but I’m usually in the City Center if you need me.”

She wrapped her right hand around the keys, tightening them in her palm. She watched as you searched through your bag again and pulled out a little device. 

“This is your walkie,” you took a deep breath, “Try to find me before using it. It’s usually only used for emergencies so just be mindful of that. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you to work, so you have time to get settled in today. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ellie smiled, her voice sounding a little bit breathless.

That night Ellie settled into her new home. Well, she tried to settle into her new home but kept shifting around in every seat and couch, like she couldn’t find something to get comfortable on. She examined every part of the house, picking the smallest room for herself and shoving her backpack in the closet. She took a bath for the first time in months, washing all the dirt and grime off of her. Left in the shower was a bar of soap that looked like it had been handmade and unused. It smelled so good she almost took a bite, but instead chose to use it how it was meant to be used.

As the sun began to set she stepped outside, watching the activity on the block and smiling to herself. Everything just seemed so normal, but with the state of this world this town was certainly abnormal. From her window she could see you in your front yard, feeding a pack of cats that slipped through your white picket fence. She smiled to herself as she watched one rub against your leg, and your gentle hand coming down to pet it. She continued to watch as kids passed your house, waving to you and running back to their homes. 

The next few days were uneventful. Ellie found herself getting used to teaching young kids, always laughing when they asked about her missing fingers. It was out of her comfort zone, but she was around JJ enough to know what kids liked. Her voice always got so high-pitched when she spoke to them, and they liked being chased around the room. On her fifth day of working, a kid ran in screaming, “Miss Ellie! Miss Ellie!” with a chicken scratch drawing of his family. He was so proud that all Ellie could say was “Good job, bud!” and ruffle his hair. He left with the biggest smile on his face.

But now, Ellie found herself at the city’s most popular bar, with the other teachers who wanted to congratulate her on her first week. Della, who invited Ellie out in the first place, made a toast to her, clinking her glass with Ellie’s and taking a long swig of her drink. Ellie took a sip of hers too and fuck, this shit was strong. 

She felt human again, laughing with people her age in a bar and old music playing. She was almost having a good time until a song came on that reminded her of Joel. It was like her whole demeanor changed and everyone could tell. She excused herself from the group finding a small corner to sit on and finish the rest of her drink, hoping maybe it would make her forget everything. But then, the bell at the front door rang making Ellie look up to see who had entered. 

There you were in all your glory, tight shirt on and hair completely loose. It almost looked as if you were wearing makeup. Ellie must’ve been staring too long because she blinked and you were standing in front of her. 

“See you got yourself a drink,” you laughed, voice making Ellie’s cheeks turn pink. She was… really drunk.

“Yeah, I could get you one too,” she slurred a bit, goofy smile spread across her face. She watched as something odd crossed your face and now she was worried she said something wrong, “I just mean, like.. you know… I mean like as a thank you.”

“Right,” you sighed.

“For my mansion, you know,” she shrugged and you giggled. You giggled and it went straight to her head. What was she doing?

“You haven’t been paid yet,” you smiled back at her, now moving to sit down, “and it’s okay, I don’t drink unless it’s a special occasion.”

“What? Meeting me is not special enough,” she teased, knocking her shoulder with yours. Her eyes scanned your face, your smile reaching your eyes as you giggled again. Her stomach sank again. She wasn’t so sure if this was just the alcohol anymore, she felt like she was 12 and crushing on Riley again. 

“No, it’s special,” you reassured, “Maybe, I’ll drink when you decide to stay.”

“Who said I’m not staying?” she questioned sitting up.

“Some people don’t,” you shrugged, smile fading. Ellie’s brain wanted to make it better, make you laugh again, or shit do anything to put the smile back on your face. 

“Well, I’m gonna,” she said gently, so only you could hear her, “I need to get my paycheck.”

You laughed and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief, laughing with you. 

“I’ll get that to you,” you smiled, “and we don’t use paychecks.”

“What’re you gonna pay me with?” she smirked, “I know some other ways you can pay me.” Then the same look from earlier crossed your face and she cursed quietly to herself, muttering an apology. 

“No, no,” you said, like you were about to let her down gently, “I just try not to get… involved with anyone since…” your voice trailed off.

“Since?” Ellie questioned, but as you opened your mouth to speak the group from earlier made their way over, noticing your arrival and screaming your name. She watched as you got up, hugged everyone and started chatting with them, leaving her with her drink and too many questions. 

There was one thing that scared her though. She knew you needed someone who could stay, and the only thing she was good at was leaving.

[mirai-desu]

Eliza Scarlet's Outfits in Miss Scarlet & The Duke S1-3

A Visual Guide

Disclaimer: This is primarily based off of me going through my caps, and there's always a chance I have missed something and/or typoed.

I have lightened some of the caps, but I did not recolor them, so they might still appear darker to you depending on your device.

You'll also see that some outfits photograph/films differently in different lighting, etc.

And obviously I don't include every scene an outfit is worn in the collages; it's just examples, outside of the first and last appearance caps.

(also I didn't label some of episode stills because originally I was just uploading the original files, but then had to make them collages too when I ran out of room. And sorry William et al., I had to crop you out at times).

I also did not really keep track of when she changes up her ties or hats with outfits, but she doesn't really mix and match until S2.

Open the images in a new tab if on desktop to get the larger image to zoom in.

The first outfit we see Eliza in ever (1x01), and the bit used in the opening sequence

The outfit in some S1 keyart images, but most were her other main outfit

We don't get to see what this outfit looks like without the jacket and thus don't really get to see the blouse

Makes it into S2, but the last we see of it is in 2x01 when then it falls victim to the pigeon incident.

However its final appearance is in the HANDS scene (well technically right after), so it does go out in a blaze of glory

Seen in 1x01-4, 2x01

The black funeral dress (1x01)

Only worn in the two scenes in the cemetery

(again it gets to be part of an iconic Wiliza scene at least)

Seen in 1x01

The other blue outfit from S1

What she is wearing in the main S1 keyart and PBS DVD cover

We don't get to see what this outfit looks like without the jacket and thus don't really get to see the blouse. She does appear to be wearing a different blouse with it at times though (e.g. 1x06 is a different blouse from 1x01)

While she wears it in almost every episode of S1, she notably wears this almost the entirety of 1x06, making its last real appearance in the scene where she has William apologize to Moses.

It is also the outfit that she is wearing in all three of the photographs of adult!Eliza in the show (1x06, 2x03, 2x06), so its technical last appearance in 2x06

There's an edited version of this outfit that's red and used in other keyart (it is not the red outfit from 1x06)

Seen in all S1 episodes except 1x05; appears in photographs in 2x03 and 2x06 as well

A burgundy ensemble that's only worn twice, both times in S1

The burgundy skirt is possibly the same skirt that goes with the outfit that’s actually in all three seasons

First seen when she goes to find Clara Simms; she wears it through being released from Scotland Yard the next morning. This version she has a choker on.

In 1x02, she wears it with a cloak at the beginning of the episode, and that's its last appearance

Seen in 1x01, 1x02

The burgundy dress that Eliza says in 1x02 is her best dress, that she specially wears to catch William's eye

She first wears it in 1x02, to try to get William to give her a case

Its last appearance is in 2x06, when her and William were going to go to dinner together

Seen in 1x02, 1x03, 2x01, 2x06

The burgundy skirt outfit is the only one of her outfits to appear in all three seasons

We actually first see it without the jacket on (1x03), and we know what the blouses she wears with it look like

It's only outfit she wears in 1x05 ("Cell 99"), including without the jacket

She mixes and matches hats and ties with this outfit starting in 2x01, as well as sometimes has on a different blouse (likely the one that goes with the green outfit).

In S3, she does sometimes wear a navy blue cloak over it, like she does many of her outfits that season

Its last appearance has been 3x05, without the jacket on, drinking with Ivy

Seen in 1x03, 1x04, 1x05, 2x01, 2x04, 3x01, 3x02, 3x04, 3x05

The nightgown in 1x04

Also notably the only time Eliza's hair isn't in a bun (barring flashbacks to Young Eliza)

She's only in this for two connective scenes

Seen in 1x04

The actual Scarlet outfit

Only appears at the end of 1x06, when Eliza is in her office and William comes to take her to dinner

Seen in 1x06

The green outfit

First seen in 2x01, as Ivy is pinning the hem. We first see it without the jacket, and get a good look at the blouse she tends to wear with it. This blouse is also used with other outfits.

She first wears the whole outfit together in 2x02

Comparative to other outfits, she doesn't seem to switch up the hat (or blouse)

This outfit carries over into S3, with its last appearance in the scene at Arabella's house having tea at the end of 3x05

Seen in every S2 episode except 2x03; 3x01, 3x05

The burgundy and gray one with velvet trim

First appears in 2x01, in the pub with the guy from the Wentworth's shop

She seems to wear the same blouse as with the green outfit

It has a waistcoat, and we do see her several times without the jacket on

Its last appearance is in the flashback to her office in 3x03.

Seen in 2x01, 2x02, 2x04, 2x05; 3x03

Navy blue outfit with waistcoat

First seen in 2x02, when she goes looking for the insurance firm

We do see her several times without the jacket on

In S2 she wears it with a blouse that has a collar that's trying to mimic a men's double round collar (the style William wears)

Notably, this is the only outfit she wears in 2x03

This outfit makes a reappearance in 3x03, with a different and stripped blouse. It's the outfit she wears the whole episode (barring the flashback), and she only has the jacket on in her first and final scenes of the episode, plus the wool cloak.

In 3x05, it's back to the collared blouse, and last seen when Eliza and William talk after Crabtree's arrested

Seen in 2x02, 2x03, 2x04, 2x06, 3x01, 3x03, 3x05

The blue evening dress

First scene for Hattie's engagement party in 2x06, and she does not wear any adornment on it then

In 3x02, which is the second and last time that she wears it, she has pinned her mother's brooch to the middle of the neckline

Both instances of her wearing it, she also wears a small shawl/cape with velvet trim when she is outside

Its final appearance is when they go back inside of Arabella‘s restaurant after the brooch is stolen

Seen in 2x06, 3x02

Jacket with the brass buttons

Oddly enough, we first see her in this outfit in the S2 keyart, but it (and most of their clothing/whole image) has been edited to be red

It first appears in the show at the end of 3x01. First we see Eliza in the kitchen without the jacket on, and then in the next, and final scene of the episode in William's office with the jacket on

The blouse has some blue in it

She does occasionally have the thick wool cloak on with this, as well as an apron

Its last appearance is in the final scene of 3x06, at Nash's office

Seen 3x01, 3x02, 3x04, 3x05, 3x06

Blue outfit with the navy blue blouse

This is the outfit that she has on in the S3 keyart

Eliza first wears the skirt in 3x02 when she has to change after being pushed down, but she wears it with the lacy white blouse she usually wears with the green outfit (she's also in this blouse again when she bakes the cake with Ivy)

But she wears the usual combination later in the episode when she returns to Arabella's to speak with her

She also occasionally wears the wool cloak over it, as well as an apron

Its last appearance thus far has been when she and Moses go to see Solomon in 3x06

Seen in 3x02, 3x04, 3x05, 3x06

Bonus! Young Eliza

Same outfit in both flashbacks

It appears to be the same outfit in the photo on Henry/Eliza's wall (makes sense)

Seen in 1x01, and anytime there is a close up of the photograph (1x06 features last true close up of it)

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

“Uh, right, my uh, my bad, I guess I, um, I um, I forgot that uh, I forgot that rich boys don’t have hearts, right? My, um, my bad, I uh, guess.”

[midnight-motorist]

What Makes a Monster (Tumblr Ver.)

//TW FOR GORE, BLOOD, AND REFERENCED CHILD MURDER//

Felix makes it to the afterlife and meets someone he never expected to see again. It doesn't go very well... (though in a way, it kind of does. You'll see what I mean ;] )

Alternative title: William being an absolute nutcase

Thank you to hit_that_target on AO3 for the suggestion! It gave me a nice opportunity to showcase how messed up William is >:)

The first thing Felix had learned when he died was that there was no god.

There were billions.

When he’d opened his eyes, he’d found himself standing in the dark on an uncomfortably familiar road, a forest to his right. Jack was there- Rosemary beside him- standing before him in a blaze of glory. Two smaller beacons peeked out from behind them. Ed and Molly watched him with wide eyes as Jack gestured to the deceptively suburban afterlife and informed Felix that they were gods now; them and all the other good souls who’d passed on. But not him. Not yet, anyway.

Every new god had the choice to create a tailor-made hell for the souls who were their tormentors in life, and Jack had taken his cue from them and created one for Felix with the help of Rosemary. He assured his former friend that this was temporary and would only serve to force Felix to face the same pain the Walten parents had suffered when their children had seemingly disappeared, had died for all they knew, since Felix had been ominously silent and avoiding their calls. He hadn’t protested; he hated himself for what he did, and knew it was only fair. He’d wanted to do everything he could to earn back Jack’s friendship.

Now, he was free. His hell had indeed been just as bad as the title implied; he was forced to relive the accident over and over again until he finally, naturally made the right choice in the situation and told Jack what he’d done to his children. In this reality, he didn’t bury Ed and Molly in a lonely, unmarked grave. He didn’t ghost Jack. He didn’t erase him from company history. Only when he’d learned how to face up to his actions did a blinding light engulf the illusion around him, sending his hell crumbling to ashes. Jack had come down to get him, sensing that his work was done. On their way out, however, Felix paused.

“Hey, Jack?”

The taller man glanced over his shoulder, saw that his friend (?) had stopped, so he turned to face him and gestured for the other to continue.

“While I was… in there, I heard that someone we briefly knew is here in hell. You remember William Afton, right?”

Jack thought for a moment, then replied, “Oh! Wasn’t he that British fella we met at that business convention thing? Yeah, I remember. I’m not surprised that he ended up here; I don’t know what it was about him, but any time he was around, there was just this strange atmosphere…”

Felix nodded. He remembered that feeling well.

“Turns out, there was a genuine reason for that. He killed six kids in his own pizzeria; one of those was his friend and business partner’s daughter.”

Jack shot him a glance. Felix knew he had guessed what he was about to ask, but he continued anyway.

“Is there a way I could pay him a visit?”

He didn’t have to explain; Jack absolutely knew why he wanted to see Afton. He was glad he didn’t have to justify himself. How was one supposed to tell their friend that they wanted to talk to a child murderer because they needed confirmation that they weren’t as bad as him?

With something not that far from pity in his expression, Jack gave him a short nod.

“Follow me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The horrid stench of new blood and old hit Felix like a truck as soon as he entered; the oppressive heat of the office amplifying it obscenely. He struggled to keep his head in the present as memories of small bodies and too much blood threatened to drag him back to the day of the crash. Disoriented, he took in his surroundings. He was standing in a small, very cluttered room; the detritus of old animatronics and mechanical parts were scattered everywhere, relics from the old pizzerias. The black and white checker tile floor was cracked and stained with age and use and… blood.

Ah. So that was the source of the smell. One of them, anyway. Looking closer, Felix could see that there were splashes of blood everywhere, ranging from specks and spatters on the walls to huge dried streaks and fresh puddles on the floor, all of them growing more concentrated the closer they were to the cluttered desk in the back. He followed the trail of red, trepidation growing steadily, almost vomiting when he began to see quivering pink chunks of flesh and gore mixed in. He heard a sudden intake of breath and a rustle of movement and jumped so badly he nearly lost his footing and slipped in the blood that was now completely obscuring the floor.

Heart beating out of his chest (he’d forgotten in his fear that it was impossible for him to die twice), he watched a pale, scarred, and bloodied hand grab the edge of the desk and heave the man attached to it to his feet. Felix saw dark hair; then cold, bloodshot grey eyes as William Afton straightened up; covered in blood, joints popping sharply as if they were being set back into place.

His eyes landed on Felix, pinning him in place like a cat trapping a mouse by the tail. His piercing gaze sharpened as he smiled- a slow, terrible grin that would’ve frozen Felix right where he stood had the staring not gotten to him first. In a voice like clattering bones, he said,

“Fancy seeing you here. Hello… Felix.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix flinched when he heard his name, and William felt a surge of savage satisfaction. At least there was a little fun left to be had in hell, though it hardly made up for the torture of dying over and over again. He walked around to the other side of the desk, grinning wider when the shorter man quickly backed away. He leaned back against it, crossed his arms, and asked,

“So. What in the world possessed you to make you want to pay a visit to the man who so clearly unnerves you? I could tell I made you uncomfortable the second I met you at that convention,” he continued, “and you’re obviously still afraid of me, so why have you come to see me?”

Felix looked like he was about to faint, but he took a deep breath and blurted,

“I- uh, I heard about what you did while I was… down here, er- in my own hell, that is.”

“Oh yes, I remember hearing about your little mishap with your friend’s children. I saw the tapes,” William added when the bespectacled man gave him an incredulous look. “What a shame, to be the sole cause of so much of your friend’s pain.” He pulled a mocking frown. Ohhh, he was enjoying this. Felix was such a nervous man, it was almost too easy to torment him. “You were close with them, were you not? Did they call you Uncle Felix?”

He looked pained, like he’d been punched in the gut.

William took that as a yes.

“Henry’s daughter called me her uncle as well. I wonder, did Ed and Molly scream and cry like Charlie did when I sunk my knife into her? ‘Uncle Will! Stop! Please!’” he mocked, raising his pitch to a cheap mockery of her pain, glee palpable in his voice and glints of insanity in his wild eyes as he stalked towards the pitiful creature before him.

Out of nowhere, a splitting pain erupted along his jaw and he stumbled back, steadying himself against the desk. He put a hand to his mouth and his fingers came away red. He whipped his head around to glare at Felix. He was ghostly pale and absolutely livid, fists still clenched from the punch he’d just landed on William’s jaw.

“You wanted to know why I came?”  he asked, voice trembling with fear and rage. “I needed to know for sure we weren’t the same. That I wasn’t a monster, and that you were. ”

Will said nothing. He could feel an old familiar urge burning in his chest, the very feeling that enveloped him each time right before he silenced the last cries of another wretched child. It was like a black hole; a yawning, bottomless pit that could only be sated by the unmatched sensation of his knife sinking through skin, tearing past muscle, and squishing into the organs of his agonized and screaming prey. He lowered his head, feigning defeat, and waited for Felix to drop his guard. He might not be able to kill him, but he could certainly make him suffer.

Without warning, he surged forward; no plan in mind for how to do it, only that he would. He relished the shock on that sniveling bastard’s face as he raised his arms in defence with no time to do anything else but brace himself. Just as he drew close enough to strike, William was blinded by a flash of red light and sent flying back into the desk again by a scorching pulse of energy. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Cassidy hovering between them looking for all the world like the new god she didn’t deserve to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Cassidy- as he learned her name to be- had escorted him out of William’s hell and back to where his friend was waiting, Felix and Jack walked through sunny St. Juana’s forest (or the afterlife equivalent) in comfortable silence for a while, providing Felix with the relaxing environment he needed in order to process what happened and calm his racing heart. The tall brunette seemed to be deep in thought, or maybe he was the one giving Felix time to think. He wasn’t sure. It had always been a difficult thing for him, navigating interactions and understanding social cues. Eventually though, Jack broke the silence.

“Did you get what you came for?” he asked, stopping to look over at him, sunlight filtering through the leaves and dappling his pensive face in golden light. It was peaceful. Felix nodded and gave him a little smile, feeling content and satisfied with himself for the first time in many years.

“Yes, I really think I did.”

[gaylorlyrics]

 Ivy

How's one to know?

I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones

“Down there where the spirit meets the bone” is the title of a Lucinda Williams album and a lyric in her song “Compassion”. Williams explained to The Huffington Post: "['Where the spirit meets the bone'] is just that place deep down inside all of us where nobody else can really see. Everybody has different ways of dealing with that. Some people get cynical, some people act like idiots or come across with the bad manners thing. Like yelling at you when you're in your car driving, and some guy's … road rage or whatever it is. The rude person in line who pushes ahead to get in line. Who knows what that person went through."

In a faith forgotten land

This seems to be both a reference to “False God” and a “Hoax” - “your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in”. Taylor uses a lot of imagery about cheating, infidelity, and faithlessness - especially in folklore and evermore. I think this has multiple meanings - 1) tay seems to have a complicated relationship with religion and how her sexuality is perceived in certain religions, saying she “did something bad” or that her love is a “false god”, so I think that at times she talks about faithlessness while reconciling her sexuality with her Christianity, and 2) in the complicated bearding relationships that she and Karlie have, Taylor feels like she is being cheated on because jerk gets all the glory of being publicly recognized as Karlie’s lover. 

In from the snow

Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow

Tarnished but so grand

This feels very “Illicit Affairs” - “started in beautiful room/meetings in parking lots”. The love isn’t what it was before, but it’s still something beautiful and real.

And the old widow goes to the stone every day

The “stone” here is a gravestone. The widow is visiting the grave of her lover and mourning their loss.

But I don't, I just sit here and wait

Couldn’t help but notice the similarities between the canvas and the pic of Kaylor in Big Sur - but now the tree has fallen and she waits alone.

Grieving for the living

However, Taylor is grieving for a relationship that has died, not a person, so there is no gravestone for her to go to, no comparable ritual for her to take part in as she processes her hurt.

This also pulls in ideas of duplicity that we saw in Coney Island, where there is one side of Taylor’s lover (Karlie!) that Taylor knows and a different side that she feels like she doesn’t. Through that lens, this line can mean that the side that Taylor loves isn’t there anymore and she is grieving the loss of that person.

Oh, goddamn

My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand

Taking mine, but it's been promised to another

Taylor is bearding. Both she and Karlie are contractually promised to other people - even when they are together and holding hands they can not truly be with each other.

Oh, I can't

Stop you putting roots in my dreamland

Taylor keeps telling people that she is writing about this imaginary dreamland in folklore and evermore, but it’s all based on her real relationships - and it shows. Tay can’t stop Karlie from coming out (not literally) in everything she writes.

My house of stone, your ivy grows

And now I'm covered in you

Even though Taylor has her armor on in her house of stone, her love for Karlie is always there.

This also continues the metaphor of Karlie in Taylor’s music. Even in her house of stone - her little cottage in the woods albums folklore and evermore, Karlie is all over her lyrics.

Finally, Ivy is an invasive species. Once it starts growing it’s almost impossible to remove. It comes back every time you try and pull it out. 

I wish to know

The fatal flaw that makes you long to be

Magnificently cursed

Taylor doesn’t understand why Karlie keeps working with the people who she does. This seems to validate to ideas that Kaylors had last year, of Karlie’s contract ending, but her extending or continuing to engage for some reason.

He's in the room

Your opal eyes are all I wish to see

Opal means “to see a change of color” - Karlie’s eyes seem to change color based on the light and what she is wearing.

He wants what's only yours

This line refers to how the people who Karlie is in contractual relationships with, or has been in them with, (Jerk, Scoot) are interested only in controlling her and getting her power and reputation. They are not trying to help her.

[Chorus]

Clover blooms in the fields

Spring breaks loose, the time is near

What would he do if he found us out?

This is the line that is most obviously about Karlie, imo. There really is no straight explanation for this line. Either she is lgbtq or her lover is lgbtq.

The song started in winter but the winter and cold is almost over and we are now approaching spring.

Crescent moon, coast is clear

Spring breaks loose, but so does fear

He's gonna burn this house to the ground

Even when they are free, Kaylor is still afraid of retaliation and people who are out to get them and ruin their relationship (burn the house). Because of the masters situation and whatever mess Karlie’s contracts seem to be in, Kaylor still isn’t truly able to disengage from their demons.

How's one to know?

I'd live and die for moments that we stole

On begged and borrowed time

Again - we have “illicit affairs” themes here. Taylor loved every moment of their relationship and though their moments were in secret, they were her whole world. It also relates to the “gold clock” in Coney Island - with the time for love ticking away.

So tell me to run

Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become

And drink my husband's wine

OOF. This stanza. Taylor clearly spells out her two options. 1 - she leaves Karlie (”runs”) or 2 - The bearding and hiding erode their relationship over the years (as it seems like it may have been doing), while they continue to beard forever (drink my husband’s wine) and never come out in the open. This is such a sad line.

[Chorus]

So yeah, it's a fire

It's a goddamn blaze in the dark

And you started it

You started it

So yeah, it's a war

It's the goddamn fight of my life

And you started it

You started it

Another big OOF. This line really stings because it references when Kaylor “started it” and one of the first songs that Tay wrote about K - You Are In Love. “You understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars”. When Taylor wrote that line she was saying that she now understood why people would fight so hard to be with someone, but in Ivy we are at the other end of the journey and she is the one has been fighting the war for Karlie.

[Chorus]

[northernrosewritings]

Oc Songs Tag

Rules: pick an OC and choose songs that fit them.

No one tagged me, so open invitation to anyone who wants to participate. I did 2 or 3 songs for each of the main Chronicles of Light and Shadow characters

Mary

•Living Without You-Beth Crowley (I walk alone, pace up and down the streets we used to know/'Cause our house no longer feels much like a home/It hasn't for a while)

•Passing Through-Kaden MacKay (If the future is bright/It doesn't shine with that "end of the tunnel" light/More like a deer in the headlights/Sudden red lights/Or "you're dead" lights/As the anglerfish bite)

•This Life is Mine-Jeff Williams & Casey Lee Williams (There's a part of me that's desperate for changes/Tired of being treated like a pawn)

Grant

•Kryptonite-3 Doors Down (If I go crazy, then will you still call me Superman?/If I'm alive and well, will you be there and holding my hand?)

•Waiting for the Rain-Jubyphonic (You can hide in my shade/Or maybe I.../Could I be safe/In yours?)

•Could Have Been Me-The Struts (I wanna live better days/Never look back and say/Could have been me/It could have been me)

Eden

•Times Are Hard for Dreamers-Audrey Brisson (And I might be a dreamer but it's gotten me this far/And that is far enough for me)

•After School Stride-Jubyphonic (After school with a stride, we're hop step jumping/I'm higher in the sky than what they told me/Across another line/ I'll figure out the world in time/Get ready!)

•Fight Song-Rachel Platten (Everybody's worried about me/In too deep/Say I'm in too deep)

Duncan

•I’m Just Your Problem-Olivia Olson (I-I-I shouldn't have to be the one that makes up with you, so/Why do I want to?/Why do I want to?)

•That’s Why I Gave Up on Music-Rachie (If you took my heart and drew/A single note just straight on through/No, it wouldn’t disappear, believe me/Whatever I do, it just won’t disappear)

Cyrus

•Sorry Haha I Fell Asleep-Egg (I'm willing to sway to any point of view/That'll make me a bit more appealing to you)

•Best Day of My Life-American Authors (I'm never gonna look back, whoa/I'm never gonna give it up, no/Just don't wake me now)

Lexi

•Waiting in the Wings-Eden Espinosa (Always overlooked unfairly/While pretending that it barely stings/But it stings, yes it stings)

•Someone to You-Banners (I just wanna be someone/Well, doesn't everyone?)

•Could Have Been Me-Halsey (Don't wanna live as an untold story/Rather go out in a blaze of glory)

Dex

•I’ll Be Good-James Young (But the blood on my hands scares me to death/Maybe I'm waking up today)

•Friends Don’t-Maddie and Tae (I keep telling myself this might be nothing/But one look in your eyes and, God, there's something)

Bonus: Charlotte

•Hiding in Your Hands-Mallory Bechtel (So your fingers get tangled in a pile/Your rhythm is a mess/But nobody sees 'cause you smile/And the world will never guess)

•The Parting Glass-MALINDA (Of all the money that e'er I had/I spent it in good company/And all the harm I've ever done/Alas, it was to none but me)

[apenitentialprayer]

Today, May 12th, is the anniversary of the death of Pope Sylvester II. Sylvester, born Gerbert, was the first French pope, a philosopher and mathmetician, and the first person to introduce Arabic numerals (1, 2, 3, ... 9) to the Latin world. Gerbert was born in the 10th century, a lowborn son of either a shepherd or a priest (the Latin pastor can refer to either). After a passing monk conversed with a young Gerbert, the monk decided he saw potential in the boy and took him to live in a monastery in Aurillac; it seems this was what Gerbert considered to be his true home, as his letters later in life often speak affectionately of this community, but contain no reference to his family. At this monastery, Gerbert learned to read and write Latin eloquently, and became a master of rhetoric and dialectic. At the age of seventeen, Gerbert travelled to Catalonia and possibly even Muslim Spain in order to continue his studies in math, which would prove to be his greatest intellectual interest. There, he mastered geometry, arithmetic, and music, but he was especially well-regarded for his mastery of astrology (astronomy at this point was not a distinct field from astrology). After going on a trip to Rome, the Pope was so impressed by Gerbert that he was eventually made head schoolteacher at Rheims, and both future French kings and Holy Roman emperors studied under his tutelage. There is no doubt that “Gerbert the Philosopher,” as one monk styled him, was a brilliant man. Richer of Saint-Remy, one of his students, described the future pope thus: “when Divinity wished to illuminate Gaul, then shrouded in darkess, with a great light,” it was He who brought Sylvester back from Spain, for “Gerbert was directed by God Himself” in order to bring higher learning to Europe. Gerbert would introduce Arabic numerals, making more advanced calculations easier to complete; he invented a new type of abacus that could calculate sums up to an octillion - simply to show off the fact that he could, because there was not yet a practical use for calculating sums that high; he taught some of his students how to create celestial spheres, and may have been responsible for introducing the astrolabe (a common tool in the Islamic world) into Latin Europe. If the revolutionary methods of his students later in their lives are any indication, Gerbert was very interested in experimental science, shattering the idea that European intellectual life was limited to appeals to older authority. There was a time where to be a good mathematician was to be known as a gerbercist. Things took a turn for Gerbert when he was briefly made bishop of Bobbio; refusing to resort to bribery and desperately trying to keep the monks under his care clothed and fed, he made a lot of enemies with his poor diplomatic skills. Rumors began to circulate that he had a secret wife and children, and he was eventually chased out of Bobbio in disgrace. In the conflict between the Holy Roman Empire and the kingdom of France, Sylvester gave his loyalty to the former, and played a role in transferring the French throne to the Capetian dynasty. For his troubles, he was branded a traitor and excommunicated, living in hiding and exile after being snubbed for the position of archbishop of Rheims. It was under the reign of Emperor Otto III, whom Gerbert tutored as a child, that his luck began to change; his excommunication was lifted, he became an advisor to the young emperor, and eventually he was installed as pope. He took the name Sylvester, previously held by the pope who worked alongside Emperor Constantine after Christianity was legalized in the Roman Empire. This choice of name was telling; Sylvester hoped to reunite the Christian West and East under the rulership of Otto, creating a united Christendom that followed a model of governance similar to that of the Emirate of Cordoba that Sylvester had visited so many years before. His papacy was marked by the conversion of many Slavic peoples to Christianity, real strides towards reconciliation between Latin and Greek Christendom, and reform meant to consolidate the power of the papacy. Unfortunately, Otto III died of a fever at the age of 22. Heartbroken after having watched his dream die with the young emperor, Sylvester died about a year later. In the years after his death, he was known as a man of “incomparable scientific knowledge,” whose “glory blazed over all of Gaul like a buring flame.” The future Pope Sergius IV lamented his death, saying “the world was darkened” with the passing of Otto and his beloved pope. In one monk’s list of scientifically-oriented churchmen, Sylvester was the last entry and crowning glory of the list, “who among those shining, shone exceedingly.”  Later writers were not very kind to Sylvester; shortly after his death, he assumed a reputation for witchcraft and wizardry. One of his former students called him a modern Nectanebo, alluding to a sorcerer common in the romantic tales of Alexander the Great; William of Malmesbury, who comes off in his comments as a petty, vindictive, and anti-intellectual author, claimed that he learned necromancy from Arabs in order to amass wealth. Other rumors included his ownership of a mechanical head that could divine the future with simple “yes” or “no” answers to questions. There is a legend that, when the death of the current pope approaches, the bones of Sylvester II rattle in their grave. The most scandalous rumor about Gerbert was that he received his knowledge and eventually even the Papacy itself through making a deal with a succubus named Meridiana. She eventually told him that he would die shortly after saying Mass in Jerusalem, a prophecy that caused him to vow never to go there. After saying Mass in the Basilica of the Holy Cross of Jerusalem (a church in Rome), however, Sylvester realized he had been tricked, and repented before his death, asking that upon his death that his tongue be cut out and his right hand lopped of. Perhaps there is a kernel of truth to this story, if we see the demon not so much as giving Sylvester his intelligence but rather as his personified tendency to glorify his intellectual achievements for their own sake. When his grave was opened decades later, it was found intact without amputations, and it was recorded that a sweet perfume could be smelled. Pope Sylvester II was a complicated figure: he saw in mathematics the potential to glance into the mind of God, but often allowed these exercises to be ones of self-acheivement rather than devotion; he expressed almost no interest in acquiring religious texts for his library, but his works were peppered with Biblical allusions; he fought hard against administrative corruption, but spoke so harshly and arrogantly that he alienated those whom he criticized; and while he was heavily involved in politics later in life, he probably would have been happier if he could have remained the schoolteacher writing his scientific treatises. His legacy reflects these ambivalences. On Pope Sylvester II, Lord have mercy. Pope Sylvester II, pray for us. (Image Source) Info Source: The Abacus and the Cross: The Story of the Pope Who Brought the Light of Science to the Dark Ages, by Nancy Marie Brown

[picnic-at-dreaming-rock]

Top 5 New Books of 2020

A round up of the top 5 new books that I have read this year, full 2020 reading list found here

Warning for possible spoilers below the cut.

Please Don’t Hug Me - Kay Kerr

Erin is looking forward to Schoolies, at least she thinks she is. But things are not going to plan. Life is getting messy, and for Erin, who is autistic, that’s a big problem. She’s lost her job at Surf Zone after an incident that clearly was not her fault. Her driving test went badly even though she followed the instructions perfectly. Her boyfriend is not turning out to be the romantic type. And she’s missing her brother, Rudy, who left almost a year ago.

But now that she’s writing letters to him, some things are beginning to make just a tiny bit of sense.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

I cannot stress enough how much I love this book. Growing up as an autistic teen girl, I really lack a lot of representation, both real and fictional, and this books is a huge step forward in remedying that. Written by an autistic woman (yes, this is an #ownvoices novel!), Please Don’t Hug Me shows autism in a new and beautiful light as to what is most commonly shown. Erin is no genius savant that is only autistic when plot relevant or has a lack of social skills used only for comedic relief, but instead a encapsulation of the ordinary and everyday autistic experience of just wanting to get through the day with as little meltdowns as possible while still maintaining your neurotypical facade.

The Dictionary of Lost Words - Pip Williams

In 1901, the word bondmaid was discovered missing from the Oxford English Dictionary. This is the story of the girl who stole it.

Motherless and irrepressibly curious, Esme spends her childhood in the Scriptorium, a garden shed in Oxford where her father and a team of lexicographers are gathering words for the very first Oxford English Dictionary.

Esme’s place is beneath the sorting table, unseen and unheard. One day, she sees a slip containing the word bondmaid flutter to the floor unclaimed. Esme seizes the word and hides  it in an old wooden trunk that belongs to her friend, Lizzie,  a young servant in the big house. Esme begins to collect other words from the Scriptorium that are misplaced, discarded or have been neglected by the dictionary men. They help her make sense of the world.

Over time, Esme realises that some words are considered more important than others, and that words and meanings relating to women’s experiences often go unrecorded. She begins to collect words for another dictionary: The Dictionary of Lost Words.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

One of my favourite parts about this novel is how perfectly it showed both misogyny and classism/elitism, and how they intertwined. Although it is set in the mid/late 19th century and early 20th century, there is this sense of relatability to it that I think I lot of people might be able to recognise. Williams deals with a lot topics that I don’t often see in other media, such as menstruation without fancy allusions or making it into anything other than what it is, pregnancy out-of-wedlock without it being seen as a character flaw on the woman’s part, and showing characters one might consider like a hag or spinster to be good people worth celebrating because of things that deem them lesser rather than despite it or not at all. One main criticism I do have with this book, however, is how it seems like William just adds tragedy for the sake of moving the plot forward/to add shock value or drama. I will admit, it did get me crying at some parts, it did get a little tedious and lack-luster to have the last half of the novel just be death after life-altering event after death after life-altering event. 

The Book Thief - Markus Zusak

It is 1939. Nazi Germany. The country is holding its breath. Death has never been busier, and will be busier still.

By her brother's graveside, Liesel's life is changed when she picks up a single object, partially hidden in the snow. It is The Gravedigger's Handbook, left behind there by accident, and it is her first act of book thievery. So begins a love affair with books and words, as Liesel, with the help of her accordian-playing foster father, learns to read. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor's wife's library, wherever there are books to be found.

But these are dangerous times. When Liesel's foster family hides a Jew in their basement, Liesel's world is both opened up, and closed down.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I read this book for my advanced literature class earlier this year and it was a great choice on the schools part. Everyone in my class enjoyed it, even if a lot of us were crying by the end of the novel. The book itself is rich with literary techniques that enrich the actual reading if you are one of those people that like to dissect what they read. I think Zusak made a really good choice with having Death narrate, as well as how he tied in his own experiences/interjections in these mini vignette-type extracts which I found really enhanced both the overall atmosphere and environment. The only qualm I have is that there were a lot of questions left unanswered that made the story feel somewhat empty.

Picnic at Hanging Rock - Joan Lindsay

It was a cloudless summer day in the year nineteen hundred.

Everyone at Appleyard College for Young Ladies agreed it was just right for a picnic at Hanging Rock. After lunch, a group of three of the girls climbed into the blaze of the afternoon sun, pressing on through the scrub into the shadows of Hanging Rock. Further, higher, till at last they disappeared.

They never returned.

Whether Picnic at Hanging Rock is fact or fiction the reader must decide for themselves.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

I watched the Foxtel miniseries first a couple years and thoroughly enjoyed it and sought out the novel very quickly afterwards. I will be honest, I picked the novel up first around 2018/19 and dropped it until earlier this year when I reread/finished it and loved it. Lindsay’s ability to create this perfect and constant juxtaposition between the natural Australian bush and the intruding colonialism is really amazing and adds this interesting aesthetic that the academia community on this site seems to enjoy. There is also a really interesting dynamic between the female characters (which is most of the characters, to be fair) and they feel complete and authentic, something that doesn’t always exist in other works of literature. There is also one canon queer character, but there is so much subtext in the novel for so many other characters that it feels purposeful. All in all, this is the gayest straight book I ever read.  

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capital, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute.

The odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low. Their fates are now completely intertwined -- every choice Coriolanus makes could lead to favor or failure, triumph or ruin. Inside the arena, it will be a fight to the death. Outside the arena, Coriolanus starts to feel for his doomed tribute... and must weigh his need to follow the rules against his desire to survive no matter what it takes.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Hunger Games was one of the series in primary school that rocked my literary world (joining the ranks of The Great Brain, Harry Potter and The Books of Beginning) and helped inspire my love of reading, and when I heard about a prequel I was over the moon with nostalgia. I found it a couple days after its release at Target for $16 and I loved it. I finished it in about a week and I could barely put it down. I loved reading how the hunger games came to be and how they ended up the way they were, as well as advancing Collins’ previously established and incredible world building. The book also adds upon the themes in the original trilogy of government corruption, classism, elitism, individualism and propaganda, but from those that benefit from it (e.g. Snow) instead of those that suffer (e.g. Katniss). I have seen some criticism from people about not liking it being from Snow’s perspective but I personally think that it was the perfect choice, as no other character’s story would be able to add to the story in such a meaningful way.

[smamrpmemes]

some songs from my playlists part two

simmer // hayley williams.

"rage is a quiet thing."

"you think that you've tame it, but it's just lying in wait."

"there's so many ways to give in."

"oh, how to draw the line between wrath and mercy?"

"gotta simmer down."

"wrap yourself in petals for armor."

my curse // killswitch engage.

"i watched you walk away."

"i strain my eyes, hoping to see you again."

"this is my curse."

"there is love burning to find you."

"will you wait for me? will you be there?"

"your silence haunts me, but i still hunger for you."

"and still i want and still i ache, but still i wait to see you again."

broken // lund.

"will you end my pain?"

"will you bleed me out?"

"will you hang me out to dry?"

"will you take my soul in the midnight rain?"

"while i'm falling apart, while i'm going insane."

"most people are searching for happiness."

"can you break my bones?"

"will you tear my skin?"

"can you taste my lust?"

"can you feel my sin?"

"wouldn't fix my issues or change your mind."

"cause i broke you heart and you buried my mind."

"now i'm six feet depe and i can't breathe."

"and now i'm on my knees, oh baby, begging please."

"we cannot choose the things that will happen to us, but we can choose the attitude we will take towards anything that happens to us."

"goodbye. don't you miss me when i'm gone."

"goodbye, cause you're the fucking reason that i'm not around."

broken crown // mumford & sons.

"i'll never be your chosen one."

"i'll be home, safe and tucked away."

'well you can't tempt me if i don't see the day."

"the pull on my flesh was just too strong."

"better not to breathe than to breathe a lie."

"cause when i open my body i breathe a lie."

"i will not speak of your sin."

"but, uh, my heart was flawed. i knew my weakness."

"so hold my hand, consign me not to darkness."

"i'll never wear your broken crown."

"i took the road and i fucked it all away."

"now in this twilight how dare you speak of grace."

"but in this twilight, our choices seal our fate."

i never told you what i do for a living // my chemical romance.

"you can say a prayer if you need to."

"can i meet you alone?"

"another night and i'll see you."

"another knife in my hands."

"clean me off, i'm so dirty, babe."

"so deep and down we go."

"i did it all so maybe i'd live this every day."

careful // paramore.

"you would have never known."

"i had it all, but not what i wanted."

"cause hope for me was a place uncharted and overgrown."

"you can't tell me to feel."

"the truth never set me free, so i did it myself."

"you can't be too careful anymore."

"you've got to reach out a little more."

"it's only the real world."

"you resist me just like this."

"you can't tell me to heal."

"and it hurts remember how it felt to shut down."

misguided ghosts // paramore.

"i'm goin' away for a while, but i'll be back."

"don't try and follow me."

"i'll return as soon as possible."

"see, i'm trying to find my place, but it might not be here where i feel safe."

"we all learn to make mistakes and run from them with no direction."

"cause i'm just one of those ghosts. travellin' endlessly."

"don't need no roads."

"and now i'm told that this is life."

"that pain is just a simple compromise."

"would someone care to classify our broken hearts and twisted minds?"

"the ones we trusted the most pushed us far away."

"but i'm just a ghost and they still echo me."

part ii // paramore.

"what a shame we all remain such fragile, broken things."

"still, there are darkened places deep in my heart."

"where once was blazing light, now there's a tiny spark."

"oh glory, come and find me."

"i'll be lost until you find me."

"what a mess, what a mystery we've made."

"i question every human who won't look in my eyes."

"scars left on my heart formed patterns in my mind."

"like the moon, we borrow our light."

"i am nothing but a shadow in the night."

let the flames begin // paramore.

"what a shame we all became such fragile, broken things."

"a memory remains, just a tiny spark."

"i give it all my oxygen to let the flames begin."

"somewhere weakness is our strength."

"i'll die searching for it."

"i can't let myself regret such selfishness."

"no matter how long, i believe there's hope buried beneath it all."

[vanxcks]

we’ll be fathers, sort of

Featuring boredom, Oscar Wilde, and the first part of a new little experiment.

masterpost (links to all chapters)

Read chapter 9 below the cut or on AO3 (link in notes)

“Two days,” Crowley groans, throwing himself onto the sofa. “Two days! What the heaven are you supposed to do in a bookshop for two days?” 

“It’s not so bad,” Aziraphale protests, sitting down in an armchair with The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. 

“Not so bad, eh? What’s that book, again? Isn’t it the third one today?”

Aziraphale opens his mouth, then closes it. “Possibly.”

“Ha! See? You’re feeling it too!”

“Fine!” Aziraphale cries, slamming the book shut and putting it a little more roughly than necessary onto the table. “But what are we supposed to do? It’s not as if we can leave.”

“Oh, no, can’t disobey the doctor’s orders,” Crowley says, his voice mocking.

“We can’t, that would be ridiculous.”

“I—urgh—I know, but what are we supposed to do?” Crowley moans, leaning his head back and throwing his arms over his eyes.

“I don’t know, but that’s not the issue. I’m not letting you tempt me out of taking care of Arthur.”

“Oh, so this is me being a demon, now, trying to tempt you into evils.”

“Yes!”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“No, you’re ridiculous. We’re staying here.”

Crowley sighs. “Fine!” He stands up with far more flair than necessary and walks over to the nearest bookshelf. Aziraphale watches him warily. “Oscar Wilde, who’s he?” Crowley asks, pulling The Picture of Dorian Gray off the shelf.

“Oh, an old friend. We went out for tea a couple of times. Before he was...driven out of the country.”

“Oh?” Crowley asks, eyes lighting up with interest. “And why, exactly, was he driven out of the country?”

Aziraphale pauses, then says “Homosexuality,” delicately.

“Satan,” Crowley breathes, “sometimes you think humanity is so wonderful, and then…” He lets himself trail off.

“Was that my side or yours?”

“Oh, pretty sure it was yours,” Crowley says, sitting down with the book. “��Man shalt not sleep with man?’”

“That was a mistranslation,” Aziraphale says, indignant. “You know that.”

“Clearly the humans don’t.” Crowley opens the book and leafs through it, finally settling on a page about halfway through. Aziraphale opens his mouth to tell him not to read like that, absolute heathen, that he should start at the beginning, but he stops himself.

This is what the past couple of days have been—just sitting in the bookshelf, Aziraphale in his chair and Crowley propped wherever he deems best at that moment (best sometimes meaning the sofa, sometimes the kitchen counter, and, on one occasion, in snake form nestled between the leaves of one of his plants) and making conversation. 

They sit for a while, flipping through their respective books, the sounds of the street outside dimming as time goes on. Once, Aziraphale stands to take off Arthur’s onesie (pinstriped and purple and yellow) and turn on the fan so that he doesn’t get too warm, poor thing. 

“Okay, this is too much,” Crowley says as Aziraphale sits back down.

“Excuse me?”

“‘I do hope we become closer in the future,’ Dorian said, resting a hand on the older gentleman’s arm and blushing at his own boldness.’ How long did it take Wilde to get arrested, again?”

“I don’t remember the exact year. It wasn’t right after the publication of that book, at least,” Aziraphale says, a little miffed.

“You’re telling me people read the words blushing at his own boldness and didn’t suspect a thing?”

“Clearly.”

“S’a marvel he didn’t get caught earlier.”

“That’s horrible!”

“It’s realistic,” Crowley says, putting down the book.

Aziraphale frowns. “What are you doing now?”

“Do you have any food?” 

“Food?”

“I’m peckish,” Crowley says.

“I suppose you could look in the kitchen,” Aziraphale says, opening his book again.

Crowley puts the book on the table with a bit more of a flourish than completely necessary and goes sauntering over to the little study and kitchenette in the back of the bookshop. Aziraphale is content with ending the conversation there, and he flips to Richard II, but he can’t seem to stay focused on the words. For some reason, he finds himself watching Crowley out of the corner of his eye. As soon as he realizes he’s doing it, though, he stops, dragging his gaze down to the page before him.

Even if Crowley is going to be here permanently, especially if Crowley is going to be here permanently, (and despite the fact that Aziraphale keeps catching him doing small kind things, like making Aziraphale cocoa in the morning and cleaning up without being asked, despite the fact that every time Crowley looks at Aziraphale it makes his heart flutter), nothing is coming of this, and nothing will come of it, and it would be best for Aziraphale to just ignore whatever it is he’s feeling and continue with his life. For Heaven’s sake, Armageddon will arrive in all of its blazing glory in eleven years, and Aziraphale has been preoccupied with—

He doesn’t want to name it, because that will make it true. And if it’s true, then he’ll have no idea what to do. So he ignores it.

(There’s a voice in his head, though, that says what if? Even if nothing will come of it—because nothing will come of it, really, why not indulge? Isn’t that what Aziraphale loves about humans, about this world? It’s that he can take part in the small joys. Nothing will come of it, and Heaven need never know.)

The voice is persistent. Aziraphale ignores it.

“You don’t have any food in your cupboard,” Crowley calls from the kitchenette, and Aziraphale stands to join him there. “How do you not have any food in your cupboard? I thought you liked food, I thought that was your thing. Imagine an Angel that likes food without any food in their cupboard.”

Aziraphale joins him in front of said cupboard and frowns. “Eggs, that’s food. And flour. And butter,” he says, looking around for a moment and then pointing to the little tray on the counter. 

Crowley pokes the butter and licks his finger, grimacing. “Well, how do you eat it?”

“You put them together, I think. They’re ingredients. You’ve heard of ingredients, haven’t you?”

There’s a put-out look on Crowley’s face. “Ngk—Of course I’ve heard of ingredients. I’ve just never...assembled them. Have you?”

“I don’t believe I have.” They look at the cupboard for a few moments, and a delighted grin spreads across Aziraphale’s face. “I think I have an idea,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“An—” Crowley says, and then understanding hits him, judging by his expression, like a brick to the face. “No, angel.”

“It’ll be fun!” Aziraphale says, clapping his hands together and starting to pull things off the shelves 

“No—”

“Crowley, six thousand years, and we still haven’t cooked!”

“Yes, and there’s a reason for that!” Crowley exclaims, exasperated.

“We’ll just have to decide what to make.”

“Have you ever cracked an egg in your life?”

“Crepes! Would that be too difficult? Or cookies!”

“This is...ridiculous.”

Aziraphale rounds on him. “You said you were bored.”

Crowley throws his hands up in the air in surrender. “Satan, I’m going to regret this,” he mutters. Then, louder, “Fine! Crepes, I suppose.”

“Oh, splendid,” Aziraphale says, beaming.

There’s a moment where they look at each other, expectantly, until Crowley says “Do you...have a recipe?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale says, like he hadn’t even thought of that. “A recipe. Yes. I’ll go get my desktop computer.” And he rushes off, pausing only a moment to glance back at Crowley.

He’s leaning against the counter, a quiet sort of smile on his face, watching Aziraphale go. When Aziraphale meets his eyes, the angel’s broad grin sliding into something softer, Crowley raises his eyebrows. “Recipe? Or have you forgotten already?”

“Recipe, yes,” Aziraphale says sheepishly, and off he goes.

@a-nerdy-artist

[avaantares]

ten questions tag game

I was tagged by @mymagicalunicornlife​. I think this game was intended for original fiction -- of which I have plenty! -- but I’m currently 133,000 words deep in a transformative literary work sprawling fanfic, so I’m totally going to cheat and use that one to answer rather than digging back into Blaze of Glory (my most recent original WIP). Blaze is on hiatus for a couple months because it was hurting my brain and I stalled out on rewrites, so instead of making progress on it, I’ve spent the past eight weeks wordvomiting a ridiculously long DMC fic instead. (Yes, I’m one of those writers who does both. That’s probably bad form. Not gonna stop, though.)

1. How did you come up with your WIP’s title? What does it mean in relation to the story?

Children of the Future Age is the opening line of the William Blake poem “A Little Girl Lost.” The works of William Blake served as a major inspiration for the fifth installment of this franchise (on which my story is largely based), and as a title... well, it’s relevant to the plot, but if I explained how, it would be a spoiler. Suffice it to say there are children involved.

2. Do you title your chapters? If so, what’s your favorite?

There are no published chapter titles. My working chapter titles (within this story) are organized by timeline, so they have names like “chapter 20 - Wednesday 2 wks” so I can keep track of how long it has been since [significant event] happened. (I write in Scrivener, so I can see all the chapter headings at a glance.)

3. What’s a recent line you really like?

“Well, I had just pinned him to the wall with his own sword and hurled a motorcycle at his face.” She smiled fondly. “Those were the days.”

“Right,” Nero muttered. “She’s gonna make a great babysitter.”

4. Are there any writing-related quotes you really like?

So, so many. This (along with many other variations on the same theme) is one I frequently repeat to force myself to work through uninspired or tricky points in the narrative:

“You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” ― Jodi Picoult

5. Do you have an idea for cover design for your story?

This story isn’t getting a cover, because fanfic. But I usually do for my original works. Sometimes I sketch or mock them up while I’m thinking through plot issues.

6. What sort of AU can you imagine your story being?

All my stories are, in a way, already AUs. Every one of my novels grew out of some other existing media -- not fanfiction, per se, but the germ of a plot springing out of an interesting concept or “what if” scenario. My age of sail adventure trilogy was originally inspired by a 1920s crime novel. My Edwardian ghost hunter story was originally inspired by a modern-day BBC series. My epic fantasy was originally inspired by a children’s cartoon. The decopunk fairy tale I sold to an anthology last year came to me after watching an episode of a 1960s TV Western. AUs everywhere.

Since this WIP is a derivative work, it’s already an AU. But I could see it changing genres and easily turning into some kind of wacky comedy, if it had a little less angst and played the character conflicts for laughs. (The premise really could have gone either way, but I’m an angst junkie, so it became a drama. But if someone wants to rewrite it as a sitcom after it’s posted, I’d totally read it.)

7. Which OC character would be the most angry with you as the writer?

Nero. I do put the poor boy through the wringer in this one, both physically and emotionally. But it’s for his ultimate good, really!

8. If you had to tell the story from a different POV, which character would you choose?

I usually have several rotating POV characters, but for story reasons, this entire narrative is from one character’s perspective, and it’s WEIRD. I keep having to perform timeline gymnastics to get my POV character someplace he can be involved in important conversations, rather than just popping into another head for a scene elsewhere!

If I had to change POV, I’d probably have to go with Lady. She’s also at the center of a lot of what’s happening, and as the person who has known the catalyst characters the longest, she has unique insight. Also she’s got her own bucketload of backstory and angst to work through, and that’s always fun to explore.

9. What would be your OC’s character’s taste in music if they lived in our world?

Nero’s musical tastes are pretty well defined in the game, I think. Though I do have him playing guitar in my story (not strictly canon but strongly suggested by the guitar taunt, and totally plausible), so he’d probably listen to a lot of classic rock in addition to the heavier stuff he listens to in-game.

10. What’s one personal goal you want to achieve by the end of the story?

My personal goal right now is just to end the story. This stupid thing was supposed to be a relatively short one-shot (HA HA HA), and given where I am in the arc, I’m estimating that it’s going to wind up in the neighborhood of 180K words. Which is insane. Doubly so since I’ve written over 130K in just two months, a quarter of which was spent traveling out of the country. (That’s... 2.5 NaNoWriMos. O_o I need to figure out what magic juice I’ve been drinking and start stockpiling it for November.)

I also want to make sure that I loop in all those dangling story elements I seeded in the first few chapters, but that’s not so much a personal goal as a standard task to check off the list. Most of my longer stories seem to have a bunch of convoluted plot threads that need tied off. I guess that’s how they end up being longer stories.

Tagging:

@gmariam321​ @iamtheshriekingguineapig​ @wordborne​ @radioinactivity​ and anyone who wants to play!

[omdaily10]

OLLY MURS

Album: Debut

Writers/Producers: FutureCut, Claude Kelly, Steve Robson, Adam Argyle, Martin Brammer, Matt Prime, Andy Green, Steve Fitzmaurice, John Shanks, Jerry Abbott, Grant Black, Paddy Byrne, The Invisible Men, Mark Taylor, Trevor Horn, Ed Sheeran

Release Date: 29/11/2010

Chart Positions: #2 (UK), #3 (Scotland), #11 (Ireland)

Certifications: 2x Platinum (UK, 800k+)

Awards: ‘Album of the Year’, BBC Radio 1 Teen Awards 2011

Launched in a trilby hatted, tight trousered blaze of glory in the winter of 2010, Olly's self-titled debut album was the fastest selling release by a brand new British artist that year, taking less than a month to achieve its first of several platinum discs with sales that, in any ordinary instance, would have given him a chart topper, had it not run into the newly-five-piece-again Take That with their monolith 'Progress' album which swept all before it in the last quarter of that year.

Looking back on it now to write this review, and the overwhelming feeling is to view this album as a scrapbook of ideas – and that’s without the withered craft masking tape effect dotted around its artwork to reinforce this proposition. Perhaps because of the nature of the show he came from and its demand for instant audience satisfaction, there was less time for Olly to be discovering his identity as an artist separate to what might have been seen on The X Factor away from public view, even though this first album didn’t emerge until almost a year after his final.

Instead, he's very much finding his identity as an artist out in public and trying several different guises on for size in the process, hence there is a sense that this album is more primal and less cohesive in comparison to what came after it. The building blocks are in front of him, he’s just trying to figure out how to piece them together. But that, if anything, is actually part of this album’s roguish charm – from the moment the balls-to-the-wall opener ‘Change Is Gonna Come’ kicks in, with all the bravado of early Robbie Williams and George Michael in its defiant opening lyrics: ‘Something’s come, I feel it down in my bones / Yeah it’s been a long time to come, but you’re here tonight’. Even if he doesn’t have all the answers yet, he’s damn well gonna make a good attempt to leave his mark on pop.

A nod to many of his heroes permeates the album; there’s a bit of Michael Bublé swagger on the swinging and swaying ‘I Blame Hollywood’, which he premiered acoustically on his first ever radio tour for ‘Please Don’t Let Me Go’ that summer, and which quickly became a fan favourite. Its chorus lyrics of ‘I try to be strong, to be brave / To behave like a hero, hero / I try to be tough, to be cool / To be smooth like DeNiro, DeNiro’ hint at a sense of self investigation into who he wants to be as an artist. Then ‘Accidental’ takes on the early cheek of Justin Timberlake, with Murs crooning like a soulful puppy to a prospective beau about being ‘always at the place where your friends meet / It’s a long way home but I’ll walk your street.’

‘Hold On’ really is the lost single that never was from this era. With a sample from ‘So You Wanna Be A Boxer’, a number from the evergreen popular stage school musical staple ‘Bugsy Malone’, the chorus of this song which, as its title implies is about staying strong through adversity, sees a cheeky call and refrain with the samples’ chorus line of ‘Well you might as well quit / If you haven’t got it’. Musically, the repetition of ‘Hold on, hold on, you’re gonna get through it’ to this acts as the first response to his detractors, which he was already generating in the likes of The Guardian’s incredibly withering review of the album.

But there is more of a vulnerable side showcased here too, even if it’s not always successfully done. Piano led contemporary ballad ‘Ask Me To Stay’ is perhaps the most engaging, and the most believable in terms of his vocal delivery and the song’s structure. The ending refrain of ‘At first you make a wish and pray that things will never change / And then we reach the point of being just good friends again’ is that magical moment of emotion and wistful feeling in a great sad banger pop song that is incredibly difficult to capture well on record.

The roll call of talent that worked with Olly on this album is quite astonishing, even when you consider that this was firstly a debut album, and secondly one from an artist that few were expecting to be around for very long. The legendary Trevor Horn is at the controls on the closing track, an epic, sweeping ballad called ‘A Million More Years’, and a few songs before that, the sunshine bright, gospel soaked midtempo ‘Love Shine Down’ marks the first writing credit for a young singer-songwriter then cutting his teeth and paying his dues, and just a matter of months away from signing his own deal, called Ed Sheeran. (There’s also backing vocals, somewhat typically over sung, from a pre-fame Jessie J too, but we won’t dwell on that.)

Eponymously titling this album seems fitting really. Only on another album of Olly’s that we’ll come onto in future weeks do we hear him at his rawest and at his most untouched if you will. This ticks those boxes, but for very different reasons. It has boundless enthusiasm throughout, and a feeling of excitement and anticipation of the unknown, and all the success that was to follow and more readily guide his material and his identity as an artist and performer. 

As Fraser McAlpine wrote in his review for BBC Music, he had ‘revealed a debut album almost as good as his taste in his hats’. And on its way to producing his first four hit singles and taking him on his first ever sold out tour of the UK – including four sold out nights at Southend Cliffs Pavillion in his own backyard of Essex, two sold out nights at London’s Hammersmith Apollo and a support slot with labelmates JLS on their summer arena tour, Olly Murs fever was about to sweep the nation – and the charts.

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

Double Open Starter: Focus! (Teresa/William)

“So, I was thinking for the presen...” Teresa looks up, blinking and frowning, sighing. “William.”

“Huh?” William looks over from the doorway, blinking at her. “I-- I was, uh, um, I was listening, sorry.”

“Were you? William, seriously, I need you to focus,” Teresa rolls her eyes slightly. “If we’re going to be partners on this I need you to pull your weight. I don’t want to get a bad grade or have to put in all the work. I don’t know how you got into advanced classes that assign summer homework when you can’t even manage to listen to me for more than a few seconds at a time.”

“Look, I, well, I’m, that is, uh... I’m really, um, really sorry,” William manages. “I was, uh, I was just, um, kind of, well...”

“Just...?” Teresa crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow.

He clears his throat awkwardly and adjusts his shirt collar. “Uh, um, well, uh... it’s, um, it’s nothing. Sorry.”

“Unbelievable,” Teresa rolls her eyes, glancing to someone nearby and rolling her eyes with a motion to him.

[douxreviews]

Arrow - ‘Brothers and Sisters’ Review

“There’s two of you now?”

Wow! Everything about this became so unbelievably clear.  Two sets of siblings attempt to forge connections after years spent apart.  I get the answers to most of my niggling questions.  And, we get an extra special guest star.  **Squee**

Let start with our future siblings.  It turns out that William’s departure to his grandparent’s home is permanent.  There is not a second bequeathing of the hozen or second departure as I speculated.  This is depressing since Jack Moore finally proved he could hold his own with the rest of the cast instead of just serving as the plot complication he normally did.  It’s also disquieting.  It means that someone, presumably Grandma and Grandpa Clayton, deliberately kept Oliver and Felicity from contacting William ever again.

Which is why he had no idea he had a sister.  Mia was aware of William though it’s not clear what she believed happened to him.  What is clear is Mia never knew her father.  And while Felicity never stopped thinking of or referring to Oliver as a hero, in true daughter-like fashion, Mia didn’t believe her.  It makes me wonder whose decision it was for Mia to use the last name Smoak.

Curiosity brings the brother and sister together regardless of their trust issues.  William justified his parents’ absence with the belief they were trying to protect him but Mia’s existence gives him pause.  Mia was convinced that her father’s actions caused the downfall of Star City (which may still be true) and despite Felicity’s claims, he was no hero.  William can provide a second opinion.  Their mutual desire to find Felicity and put together the puzzle pieces of their family lead not only to a cease-fire but a tentative agreement to work together.   And now that they have a lead...

Which brings us to our current set of siblings.  Oliver, as usual, has the best of intentions.  Upon learning of Emiko’s mother’s murder he vows to help her find the killer.  Unfortunately, Oliver, as usual, believes he knows best.  Now that he is working within the confines of the law everyone else should too.  He conveniently skips over the many times he equated vengeance with justice and meted out both.  And, as Rene says, stubbornness runs in the family.  Emiko is unwilling to take a back seat on her own mission.  Which leads to yet another confrontation between Ollie and his sister and another breach of trust.

How strange is it that Wild Dog is now the voice of reason, pointing out Oliver’s hypocrisy, and reminding him Emiko needs a brother, not a protector or mentor.  Luckily Oliver is not as stubborn (or as dense) as he once was.  He goes back to Emiko with an apology and the information she seeks.  Like their future counterparts, they arrive at an uneasy alliance if not a true understanding.  The only question is whether Emiko can be trusted now that we finally learned where she picked up her mysterious fighting skills.  Dante.

We are introduced to Dante and if you were anything like me it was worth the wait.  According to the Joss Whedon school of storytelling when the resident badass is afraid of someone that person becomes scary by default. Diaz, destroyer of the Quadrant and established Big Bad, is afraid of Dante. Ergo Dante is the Bigger Bad.  And if you weren’t sure, Diaz’s demise solidified it.  And Dante was one scary dude.  Virgil, his emissary, jumped out of a window rather than return in defeat.  And when Diaz informed him of the setup, Dante killed the Princess and Deputy Director Bell on the suspicion they sold him out.

The icing was realizing Dante was none other than Adrian Paul.  I know I’m dating myself but I’ve been a fan of his since Highlander premiered back in ‘92.  I squealed in delight when he graced my screen and the grin did not leave my face till long after the episode ended.  And for a man nearing 60, he can still move!  What a perfect piece of casting.

Then there’s Felicity.  Past and present, or rather present and future.  Our current iteration has been going through her own crucible this season with this being her final test.  Would she cross the line and become a killer or remain a hero?  There was no foregone conclusion.  Felicity has been on a pretty dark path for a while now.   Though I must admit, after the multiple “I’ll back your play” speeches, I had my suspicions about which path she’d choose.  And I was proved correct when Felicity allowed Diaz to be taken into custody rather than exacting vengeance.

Future Felicity remains an open question since the person who knows her best is neither objective nor trustworthy.  Has the never-ending cycle of Big Bad after Big Bad made Felicity paranoid?  Or did Oliver’s presumed death do that?  Considering that everyone who knew about the plans to blow up Star City is dead or missing, should we even call it paranoia?

Felicity is not the only remaining question. I can understand why Roy didn’t know about Mia, but why didn’t Dinah? And why did Diggle? It’ll only be a few months before Felicity starts showing.  So whatever is going to happen, it's going to happen soon. So when does Dig get around to adopting Connor?  And if Connor is Diggle’s adopted son, what that hell happened to J.J.?

I enjoyed the hell out of this episode just as I’m enjoying the hell out of this season.  However, if the future we’re witnessing comes to pass, Oliver ultimately failed in his mission to save his city and after everything he’s been through, he deserves better than for that to be his legacy.

4 out of 5 mini cassettes  

Parting Thoughts:  

If everything we heard is true, I wonder if William started his quest under false pretenses.  I find it hard to believe it was Felicity that placed Lian Yu’s coordinates in the hozen.  She would have needed far more future knowledge than she appears to have.

Felicity’s fears of not being able to protect herself and her family from Diaz may have been resolved but the paranoia that Mia speaks of may be well founded.

Speaking of Diaz, the irony of him going out in a blaze of glory did not go unnoticed.  It was a fire that created the Dragon and it was a fire that destroyed him.  Is this the new version of ashes to ashes?

Is it me or are Mia and Connor about to have a very pointed conversation about trust and lies?

Dante said Bell was one of the many installed at A.R.G.U.S.  Do it detect a whiff of Hydra?

If Diggle takes the fall for Lyla, can he still work with Team Arrow at the SCPD?

Quotes:

Rene: “Listen, I’m not trying to get in the middle of any family drama.” Oliver: “Too late.”

Diggle: “You’re supposed to be training.  Not trying to kill each other.” Cupid: “Aww.  Why you got to ruin all the fun.”

William: “So where do we start?” Mia: “Yeah. I’m not looking for any kind of family reunion here, bro.” William: “Oh, I am sorry Sis. But I have come too far to get sidelined now.”

China White: “So our first mission is a meeting.  That is way below our pay grade.” Cupid: “Wait, we’re getting paid?”

Laurel: “Trust me.  I would be thrilled to see his head explode, but is it really worth the consequences?" Felicity: “Yes it is worth every consequence. I have to protect my family.” Laurel: “By family you mean you, Oliver, and your baby?” Felicity: “What, are you psychic now?”

Mia: “You guys are just junkies looking for a hero fix.”

Diaz: “Once Dante figures this all out, and he will, you all will be wishing for the mercy of a quick death.”

Laurel: (to Felicity) “I don’t know if you noticed but you’re kind of a badass.”

Oliver: “There’s a right way and a wrong way to do this.” Emiko: “The only thing I’ve done wrong, is to think that I could ever trust you.“

Felicity: “I thought Dante was the objective.” Diggle: “He is the objective.  Just not the priority.”

Emiko: “I didn’t realize Oliver Queen did apologies.”

Shari loves sci-fi, fantasy, supernatural, and anything with a cape.

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan WEEK 2018] Day 3 - Spellbinding Souls & Ageless Allure

Ao3 Link:

Link to this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166468

Link to previous fic (Day 2):  https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154843

Link to PruCan Week 2018 Collection: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1145768

Tumblr Link:

Link to Day 2 fic ( Previous) 

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

Prompt: Mystery / Curiosity for @prucanweek

Summary:  Magic AU! Gilbert is an Old Spirit of Mischief and arcane magic - he reminisces the first time he fell in love with the demigod of the forest.

Word Count: 1,711

Age Rating/Mature: All Audiences :)

Author Note:  I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to write another magic fic... I had a blast on this one! :D 

Wisps of the forest seemed to be in a jovial mood as the soft breeze of frigid wind wound and whipped around the tall timber of the ever-stretching woods; The beauty of the forest still felt captivating, even after traversing through it’s miles of  old earth for many years. Oaken towers of bare bark wept and whistled, contrasting their full-dressed pine brethren who relished in the oncoming cold with prickles still unplucked, ready to bare the hushed chill. winter was arriving and autumn had embraced it’s end with such bountiful harvests; Gilbert smirked. If only the locals knew of Matthew’s hard work to conjure the glorious growth that befell them this term. There was some melancholic beauty in the shivering ground and although the ancient mage preferred the view in its vibrant green state or its amber tones, he withheld the urge to intervene in its natural order. No wallowing flora would deceive him, nor the crawling fauna which was crying out for a healing warmth would trick him into touching it- His beloved would berate him for messing with the work of Mother Nature and of the other olden Gods.

It was peculiar for him. To now have the discipline to not interfere with the natural order or to pester the environment, and for what? The icy pale magi was an ancient master of his craft if he wanted he could be the harbinger of fear, instil curses upon a prideful soul or charm the village beauty with a simple evocative spell… he could have ransacked the valley for himself and live in the silent retreat he once yearned for. And yet, he chooses to wander in the elegance of his lover’s eloquent craft. Matthew’s attention to detail when working on his land was impeccable, and while it’s autumn glory felt ephemeral, he found it timely that the season change now; of course Matthew made the transition as gradual and untroubled as possible. His sore feet had brought him to the small familiar cottage. A warm fire must have been blazing as he saw the ashy smoke climb up and out of the chimney with a slow but steady drag. Matthew had to be working on a new spell- the door had been left open and footsteps suggested the man had recently gone out to pick at the rosemary bush in the dirt nearby. With a grin he walked in, making sure to shake off any residing dirt and too warm up his cheeks that were marked in pink by the seasonal weather. Hunched over a book and telekinetically balancing multiple tools (namely a spoon and a mixture of woodland ingredients) within the air, His beloved had been enthusiastically humming as if to harmonise with the crackling fire just ahead of them.

“A new breakthrough perhaps or have the ancient Lords given you a new project?” Gilbert mused, breaking the focus that the strawberry blonde had on his work, thus making the once floating objects clatter violently on the ground.

“Gil! You must see what Kiku had teleported to us! Wild ‘ Flammulina velutipes’ - Winter fungus!” Matthew had brought forth a handful of shrooms, ranging in shades of brown but all holding a distinct earthy smell. The pure amazement on the younger mage bewildered Gilbert; For the centuries Gilbert had moved along this existence, he had encountered this plant in the far east end of the world- what was so spectacular of this bunch that had excited his love? Obviously seeing this puzzlement, Matthew explained with great engagement over his research:

“It’s a rare brand of its own kind which can withstand winter! And I’ve grown these before but when cultivated it loses its colour for a milky white palette. It’s so difficult to find the wild versions but Kiku had many growing in his territory among the roots of his persimmon trees so he teleported a stock over to me!” Matthew’s grin growing ever so adoring and thankful, the gratitude evident in his soft eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to send him a gift then? Maybe another protectant charm for his people’s new harbours?” Gilbert supplied as he watched Matthew fiddle with putting away the sacred gift as well as picking up the dropped items and rummaging around to put them away. The pale man had picked up a few out of place belongings and stacked them neatly in order to assist in the cleaning.

“I thought so too, he’d been having trouble with the water spirits again. I just finished preparing one but I felt an owl would not be appropriate for a border-crossing journey and summoning Kuma to deliver it would be disrespectful to his spirit’s resting hour.”

“How about I send it over? I’m low on mana but I’m sure I’ve got enough stored for a simple token transport…” He trailed his busy bee lover as they made their way to the living room- Matthew helping Gilbert strip off his heavy cloak and grasp his hand to pull him closer.

“There is much mana to go around Gil, I’ve already finished my duty to the forest spirits, I won't be doing much anymore- just the simple casting. Go ahead to use my supply later. Rest first.” The two bundled up on a small raggedy couch, cuddling nearer in the glow of the fireplace and enjoying each other’s voices and strong grip.

He had fallen for Matthew centuries ago. Back when Matthew had been a mere mortal, born with the blessing of a forest deity. Gil had heard of his arrival and progression even from the far distance of his homeland, the story of an extraordinary soul being carried along by murmurs and rumours of wandering spirits. The waves of silky hair that had been sunkissed, and the eyes of a lavender in bloom, all finished with a face holding youth and a kindness that radiated tranquillity. Matthew was born to learn of the forest and to take care of its livelihood. Gilbert had been passing by, a simple detour in his travel to find a place to chaotically mess with- but as a young man whose face looked to naive to go against a power like him holding a staff pointing straight at him in defiance, the arcane magi knew this was no ordinary soul, tales of his prowess were faithful. The youth had approached him on a warm spring evening just as Gilbert had arrived to steal a thriving crop of flowers in a nearby field for some easy energy. Gilbert stopped his impulsive actions for a split second when he first gazed upon the enchanting soul. He had met many blessed magical folks, but like all blooming gifts, they would wither away within their short lifetimes. He had seen them come and go and he’d never expect to meet such a recent exception. Whereas many of the ancient gods were hesitant in keeping a chosen one alive for more than an average human lifetime, it became clear Matthew was much more devout and golden-hearted in his following and teachings - so much so Lady Terra had given him the prize of eternal youth and immortal breath. This did not corrupt him, and so a simple conjurer rose from the ranks of plain magic-bearing folk to becoming a preacher of the divine; Destined to also be the stealer of Gilbert’s affections and the banisher of his past cruelties.

He admired Matthew. Originally his lingering on this continent was excused by his curiosity over this new demigod, but that morphed into an infatuation over his brilliance and the bold felicity he displayed. His soul had an ineffable grace to it, tinged in an introverted humble magnificence which Gilbert was absolutely lured towards. To Matthew, Gilbert was a complete mystery; there was a distinct blurring of his past when he was questioned and in the beginning he only he knew Gilbert to be a product of much older times, times even before the great age they were currently in. Times when darkness was rampant and gods did not seek to comfort their people. At first, it was off-putting to have such a powerful being watch and follow him, but he supposed Gilbert was bored or that, like him, had discovered a while back how lonely immortality could be. They thrived off each other, like how their magic thrived off their surroundings, trust and beliefs.

It was very odd at first- when they had decided to work together. Arcane magic like Gilbert’s required intense amounts of energy, and most of the time finicky ceremonial practices must be conducted in order to tame said raw energy. Theurgy was a picky gimmick he supposed, the discipline was obnoxious and time-consuming. The complete opposite was to be said of Matthew’s….low magic (Which apparently was insulting to say)... as it focused on already present sources of energy instead of pulling it from other realms; It was practical magic that was practised on simpler spells and much simpler rituals. Tasks and objectives were clear with folk magic. The skills that bled into it were easy day-to-day kinesis and at the most complicated level, spells would involve spirit summoning like Matthew’s animal companion Kuma. Arcane magic was unpredictable in comparison to the intricately crafted logic-filled spellwork of the newer beings. Matthew’s spells fed off the rawer energy that Gilbert’s presence had provided and the other man’s feral sorcery was neutralised around the demigod’s aura. They were balanced and synced and it made them more than happy to use it as an excuse to bask in each other’s existence. It also helped of how fond they were of each other’s smiles and sweet serenities.

His fingers had been mindlessly twirling strands of his lover’s hair, catching and twisting in the movement as they bother lazed around. Pushed up against his chest, the blonde had somehow conjured a woven blanket and snuggled up pleasantly into Gilbert’s personal space. It had been centuries since he met Matthew and there was still no sense of foreboding desire to run away or to break loose, and he sincerely hoped he never has such awful thoughts. They cherished the company and with his lips pressing into his soulmate’s own, even in such cold weather did his heart grow cosy with love.

[sleemo]

Jedi master Mark Hamill geeks out with Bill Hader

— Interview Magazine Nov 9, 2017

From the time of the ancient Greeks, humanity has been fascinated by the struggle between good and evil, often led by an archetypal chosen one who blazes a path of glory by separating himself from the pack. As a young actor toiling between auditions, Mark Hamill’s moment of destiny came when he took a break from TV fare such as General Hospital to read for a role in a little sci-fi film helmed by a young director fresh off an Oscar-nominated hit called American Graffiti (1973). When Hamill was cast in the original 1977 Star Wars as Luke Skywalker, an orphaned farm boy growing up on a desert planet, no one—chief among them Hamill himself—knew that the film would become one of the most influential and profitable franchises ever made.

When the announcement came a few years back that Hamill would reprise his role as the Jedi Knight in J.J. Abrams’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015), along with his original co-stars Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher, fans went wild. But while Hamill’s screen time was relegated to a small appearance at the end of that film (Skywalker, in ascetic seclusion on a remote planet, is discovered by a young woman who exhibits strong signs of the Force), the second installment of the new trilogy, next month’s The Last Jedi, is squarely focused on Skywalker’s journey.

On a late September afternoon, the comedian, actor, and Saturday Night Live alum Bill Hader (who was a vocal consultant for the droid BB-8 in The Force Awakens) called up Hamill from the Sony lot in Los Angeles to geek out about that iconic galaxy far, far away.

MARK HAMILL: Hi, Bill!

BILL HADER: Hey, man!

HAMILL: I’m a big fan of yours. My kids tell me that you came to my house before you were on SNL.

HADER: Yes! I was a PA on Empire of Dreams, the documentary about the Star Wars movies, and I came over to pick up some pictures of you. I sat in your living room, and I believe it was your wife who brought down the pictures, and I was like, “Oh my god, Mark Hamill’s so rad.”

HAMILL: Was I not there?

HADER: You weren’t. I didn’t want to touch anything, and the whole time I kept apologizing for my existence.

HAMILL: Were any of my kids there? Nathan or Griffin or Chelsea?

HADER: No, but when I first moved to L.A. in 1999, Nathan and I ran in the same circle for a bit. I had a friend who had a massive crush on him. I remember once we had to go to this bowling thing because Nathan was going to be there. [sirens wail in the background] Sorry, I’m robbing a bank right now. Hold on.

HAMILL: [laughs] I saw your tauntaun and Jabba the Hutt impersonations on YouTube. It’s a talent of yours I had never seen. I like that you keep alive the legacy of some of the actors that I love, like Vincent Price. I’ll be talking to people your age and younger, and I’ll mention Lee Marvin [Hamill’s co-star in The Big Red One, 1980] and a lot of them will go, “Who’s Lee Marvin?”

HADER: Oh, my god.

HAMILL: It just goes to show how fleeting fame is.

HADER: I remember I was at Comic-Con once, and I looked over and there was this long line for, I don’t know, the stars of some lesbian vampire series from Mexico, and then all by himself was [stop-motion animation and special effects master] Ray Harryhausen.

HAMILL: Did you go talk to him?

HADER: Yeah! I was like, “Oh my god, you’re Ray Harryhausen.”

HAMILL: He’s always been an icon for me. I was so into that stuff as a kid. I mean, The 7th Voyage of Sin-bad [1958] and Jason and the Argonauts [1963] and First Men in the Moon [1964] and on and on and on. I lived for that stuff. I got to interview him once on the floor at Comic-Con for Comic Book: The Movie—he was the quintessential gentleman of another era.

HADER: Were you always a fan of this stuff?

HAMILL: I was a total freak for these kinds of movies. As for getting the role of Luke Skywalker, I really stumbled into it. Just last year, I saw that they included our audition tapes as a DVD extra, and I saw William Katt’s and Robby Benson’s and Kurt Russell’s tapes, and they were all great. It seems so arbitrary that I was anointed.

HADER: Was it true that they were casting for Carrie [1976] at the same time?

HAMILL: When we auditioned, it was a total cattle call, where they didn’t even tell us about the movie—we just went in and talked for a few minutes. Brian De Palma was looking for actors for Carrie and sitting next to him was George Lucas. Since Lucas didn’t speak the whole time, I thought he was De Palma’s assistant. I didn’t know what he looked like! So I did my thing, and a couple of weeks later, I went to my agent, and there were six or seven pages of audition material for me. By the time I got the part, I assumed that Harrison Ford was the lead, because he’s a traditional leading man. I thought I was going to be his sidekick, you know, like Captain America and Bucky.

HADER: Or Batman and Robin.

HAMILL: Then I opened up the script, and at the time it said: The Adventures of Luke Starkiller as Taken From the “Journal of the Whills,” Saga I: Star Wars. I just couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought, “How are they going to do all this?” Robots, the Death Star, all of it—it blew my mind.

HADER: Did you have confidence that they could do it?

HAMILL: You have to believe. But it’s always a little disconcerting—what you imagine in your head and what you see on set.

HADER: Describe a moment on set when you went, like, “Wait, these are the Sand People?”

HAMILL: The lightsabers, for a start. George referred to it as the most expensive low-budget movie ever made. At one point, Fox screened raw footage to some people, because they needed more money to finish it. Imagine it with no effects, no music, no nothing. The general consensus, because it played so horribly, was that they should just shut it down and take a tax loss. It was only [20th Century Fox executive] Alan Ladd Jr. who saw the potential and gave us his blessing. I think they gave us like a million and a half more. Do you remember seeing it when you were young? Did it scare you, or did you love it?

HADER: I remember going to see Return of the Jedi [1983] on my fifth birthday—the people tearing the tickets were dressed as stormtroopers—but the first image I can remember on a movie theater screen is that close-up from Empire [The Empire Strikes Back, 1980], of Han in carbonite. I flipped out, and my dad had to take me out of the theater. Then he told me the whole thing on the ride back; he was like, “Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker’s dad!” And that’s how he said it—not his father, his dad. [laughs] What was it like, back then, leading such a massive franchise?

HAMILL: It was kind of like The Prince and the Pauper, where one day you’re nobody and the next you’re partying with Andy Warhol. It was surreal. I came from a big enough family, so I didn’t let it get to my head too much or change my view of the world. The first time I went to the Oscars was like that, too. It wasn’t really me walking the red carpet. It was like watching a movie of a Hollywood premiere. You have to have an intellectual distance from it, because it’s so atypical from your everyday life. I’m sure you feel the same way. You can’t sit in the park and people watch anymore, that ship has sailed. Star Wars ebbed and flowed, but I never expected it to come back, certainly not with this intensity. Carrie and I were in Orlando, with fans. It’s just astonishing the passion and affection that they have for all of this stuff. It’s overwhelming. You can get emotional about it because it’s so personal, the way they relate it to their own lives.

HADER: Batman, too. [Hamill has served as the voice of the Joker in animated series, films, and video games, starting with Batman: The Animated Series in 1992.]

HAMILL: That’s a whole subgenre of comic book nerds who know that I’m a nerd, too. I’m one of them, so they love the fact that I’m not posing.

HADER: What is it like working with [Last Jedi director] Rian Johnson or J.J. Abrams, people who grew up with Star Wars? Is it ever weird to be told things about your character, when you know him better than anyone else?

HAMILL: With J.J. and with Rian, it’s the first time that the fan generation has grown into being in the position that they are. I was surprised in many ways how they saw not just my character, but the overall piece, because you get really possessive over the years. But Rian, what a blessing that guy is. He is unassuming and amiable. I’ve never seen him raise his voice. I’ve never heard him curse. I never heard him humiliate anybody else in front of the entire crew.

HADER: [laughs] When the first trilogy ended, did you feel a sense of relief? I know when I left SNL, it was a big relief.

HAMILL: It was exhilarating. It felt like senior year of high school. You know those last moments when you’re clearing out your locker? You’re going to miss all these people you know, but there’s the exhilaration of what comes next. It’s like jumping out of an airplane and hoping for the best, hoping your parachute opens. I was lucky that a lot of pressure was taken off financially; I didn’t have to do stuff that I didn’t want to do, so I indulged myself. I always wanted to do theater, so I did lots of theater. I got to do a comic mockumentary, and I wrote a comic book, and I discovered that the Joker gave me a whole new career. I didn’t expect to be the Joker, of course, but with voice acting, it liberates you to play characters you’d never do in a million years because you’re physically not right. You can show up looking like hell, you don’t have to memorize your lines because you can read them right off the page, and you get to play the most fun parts. You come in and you kick everyone’s ass and you get your own ass kicked, and then you go home.

HADER: I do animated things, too, and they’re so much fun. But do you get tired after a session?

HAMILL: Oh, yeah. It’s a real workout. But it’s so entertaining. It’s like going to a really great nightclub act and getting paid for it.

HADER: I really liked The Big Red One. What was that like?

HAMILL: I was a huge Sam Fuller fan. Within five minutes of meeting him, I went, “Holy Christ, I’ve been drafted!” He got up on his feet and he started telling me the story of that film, with the explosions and the rat-a-tat-tat, and I was mesmerized. He had such charisma, such magic. He was a firecracker, like Yosemite Sam. I was traumatized when it came out because, even though it got good reviews and takes its place among the great war films, it wasn’t what we all hoped for. They cut it down to an hour and 50 minutes, to the point where it was so incomprehensible. Now, of course, it’s been restored to its proper length. If anybody’s reading this and is thinking about watching the movie: make sure it’s the two-and-a-half-hour version! Not that truncated version. I wish Sam were alive to have seen that because that would have made him happy, and he deserved it. Like any great artist who is ahead of the time, he was not welcome in Hollywood at a certain point.

HADER: There was a great documentary about him called The Typewriter, the Rifle, & the Movie Camera. That was when I first heard about him.

HAMILL: Was I in it?

HADER: You’re not talking in it, but there’s a clip from The Big Red One in it.

HAMILL: Okay, yeah, I remember that one. I hope you and I get to work together some time.

HADER: That would be awesome.

HAMILL: I have been loyal to Saturday Night Live from the very beginning. When it first came on, I said, “We’d better enjoy this because it’s for sure going to be cancelled. This is only going to last one season.” So I started taping them all. I had no idea it would become such an institution. I guess we can both relate to getting lucky and hitting the jackpot.

BILL HADER IS A COMEDIAN, ACTOR, AND WRITER. THIS SPRING HE WILL STAR IN THE HBO SERIES BARRY, WHICH HE CO-CREATED.

— Interview Magazine