#going back to the ultimate naughts and crosses - is that an actual thing or is it something my friends and I made up?

[doctorstrangereview]

Strange Tales #138

Cover Date: November 1965 On-Sale Date: August 10, 1965

For what is technically a key story, Doc is completely absent from the cover once again, bar the corner box. (Still miss those.) In this issue Doc reaches his goal. This is not the ultimate goal of the story arc because he doesn't defeat Dormammu and Baron Mordo. This is more of an intermediate goal. Doc finds Eternity. This is a first, not just for Doc, but for the Marvel Universe at large. We're about four months from the Fantastic Four introducing Galactus. Therefore, Eternity is Marvel's first cosmic entity. Thanks, Doc!

Once again we pick up from last month's story and the mountain that Doc used to cast his spell as it was too dangerous to cast around people. The All-Purpose Amulet has gotten big and Doc steps through it. Ditko uses it as an excuse to draw some of his trademark bizarre stuff.

That's absolutely delightful! A star-like something or other leads Doc to a doorway-like something or other that vaguely resembles the design of his Amulet.

He comes across something that looks like a cross between a giant atom and a solar system. (Did Futurama get the jumbonium idea from this?)

(Yes, there are going to be lots of panels reproduced here. It's just got to be seen.) Then it changes.

Eternity! At last!

So now we know where the All-Purpose Amulet comes from. It's technically not it's origin since it's Agamotto's amulet, but that hasn't been revealed yet. Check out this design! It's a dude with a cape and weird headgear made of space! Man, Ditko's dealer really came through this month!

We finally find what the Eternity plot device is for. Doc seeks a patron like Dormammu acts for Baron Mordo. Eternity needs to determine if Doc is worthy. Finally Doc gets his non-consensual probe. After some beautifully drawn probing, Doc is found worthy for whatever it is Eternity is looking for. Unlike U2, he seems to have found it. All of a sudden, another call comes through on the call-waiting line and Eternity is like "Wait a minute Doc, I gotta take this!" Eternity shrinks back down into his atom/solar system thing and Doc is left with a page of navel contemplating filler. Yup! Even this key story has filler!

After awhile, Doc is getting worried. Will he be stuck in the Eternity dimension?

Eternity doesn't leave Doc hanging for all eternity. He comes back and renders his judgement.

Seriously?!? Are you freaking kidding me? After all Doc has gone through to get here, all you offer is some philosophical nonsense? Doc doesn't need "wisdom," he needs raw mojo to put down the trouble twins! A dejected Doc slow walks home.

Well, it gives Ditko more opportunity to draw more bizarre stuff and actually offers some consistency as this looks just like where he entered this bat-crap crazy space, and we can even see the mountains of home. He's even walking on the same green goop. Arriving back home, the amulet shrinks back to it's normal size and Doc heads back to give his old buddy the bad news. Of course, even that doesn't go right.

Yup! Mordo has entranced Hamir and kidnapped The Ancient One. He left behind some ninja minions to lead him back to Mordo.

Why have the trouble twins done this? Because Dormammu must learn if Doc found Eternity and what he learned from the space case. He will threaten the old duffer until Doc sings. For the heck of it, we get a brief glimpse of the captive Clea as Dormie repeats his threat to kill her after she gets to see Doc go down. Finally Doc has arrived and he will face off with the trouble twins... next issue.

Well, there's lots going on here. Doc, after risking life and limb countless times to find Eternity, does so and it's all for naught. Lee and Ditko are giving us lots of twists and turns in this arc. Every time Doc seems to gain some footing, he gets knocked down again. There's plenty of excitement going on. Eternity's reveal is really a set up for a future story in a few months. Unlike here, where the Eternity encounter doesn't have much action and is more Doc hanging out in a cosmic waiting room, the next time we see the space case, there will be plenty of action! Battles galore await the rest of this arc!

[freckleslikestars]

I wanted to play battleships but I could find a nice, clean, clear 12x12 battleships grid out there (most people like a 10x10, but I prefer a little extra playing area and more ships - it’s just how my dad taught me) so because none of my friends were available I spent some time making my own sheet, and then figured I’d share it with the world in case anyone else wanted to play on a nice clean sheet

[seijorhi]

Nothing Fucks with My Baby

The (not so) long awaited Hitman AU 👀

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

TW Blood, minor violence, referenced/implied murder, stalking, implied kidnapping

Iwaizumi has one rule. No kids.

They could be the damn antichrist for all he cares, if they’re underage, they’re off limits. Anyone else is fair game - kind old ladies, rich corrupt businessmen, housewives, politicians. He doesn’t give a shit so long as he gets paid, and paid well.

You were fair game.

He never cares why. Iwa has better things to do than listen to meaningless justifications and vendettas. They make no difference either way - he’s being paid to kill, so he’ll kill, ruthlessly and without prejudice. All he wants is a name, a picture and whether or not they want brains splattered on pavement or something a little more refined. An address doesn’t go astray, but he’ll work with what he’s got, it’s the reason he can charge a fucking premium.

But you… you weren’t what he expected. He’s used to filth. Liars, cheaters, bottom of the barrel trash. Every once in a while some poor idiot gets caught up in something they don’t understand and ultimately pay the price for it, but good people don’t often end up in files splayed across Iwaizumi’s desk. He’s not used to innocence, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re as close as they come.

He supposes that things might have been different if they’d wanted you dead quickly. 

Publicly. 

But they didn’t want that. They wanted you to disappear without a fucking trace. It wasn’t a kindness - it just meant more work for him. It meant that instead of staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle perched in the window of an empty apartment across the street from yours, he’d have to get his hands dirty.

If you want somebody to blame, sweetheart, why don’t you start with them?

In hindsight, he probably didn’t need to go inside the little coffee joint you worked at. He could lie to himself and say that it was an excuse to get closer to you, to see if you had friends at your work who might try and get in the way, but the simple truth was that he’d been up since four in the fucking morning, and he might just have shot somebody out of sheer irritation if he didn’t get a hit of caffeine and soon. 

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right?

And it wasn’t like you were going to recognise him. Three days in, and as far as Iwa can tell, you don’t have the slightest idea that you were being watched, much less that the pair of eyes watching belonged to a cold hearted killer. 

People tend to be a little more scared when they sense he’s coming - there’s a kind of innate fear that seeps from every pore as they scurry about trying to hide, trying to put off the inevitable - but you, you’re just blissfully oblivious, flitting around with those wide doe eyes like you haven’t got a damn care in the world. 

He honestly doesn’t know whether he wants to envy or pity you for that sweet naivety. 

Currently though, he’s more concerned with whether or not you can make a half decent cup of coffee. 

“I asked for an extra hot latte.”

Or he would be, if the asshole with slicked back hair and an expensive suit hadn’t cut him off just as he was about to step up to the counter to shove the coffee you’d just made him back in your face. He watches your eyes widen for a split second before you smile - apologetic and demure before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it not hot enough?” 

The moment the words leave your lips, you all but flinch. Both you and he know that despite the fact you mean them sincerely (which kind of surprises him, considering that if your situations were reversed he wouldn’t have been nearly so generous) they’re a mistake.

The asshole sneers down at you like you’re nothing more than scum on his shoes. “If it was fucking hot enough, I wouldn’t be wasting my time complaining, now would I?”

Even before he found himself dabbling in his current line of work, Iwaizumi never considered himself much of a knight in shining armour. The world’s a shitty place, it’s not his job to go around fixing things and softening blows. He’s not a cold, emotionless bastard, as most people assume, he just has better things to do than run around playing a damn bleeding heart and sticking his neck out for strangers. It’s not his problem and as far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t owe anybody shit.

Impassive olive eyes watch as you try and backtrack, apologising again, offering to make him a new drink, explaining that the reason the coffee wasn’t as hot as he wanted was because you were trying not to scorch the milk- for naught.

You in your naive little world don’t seem to realise that the asshole doesn’t actually give a shit about the coffee. He wants a power trip, and you’ve given him the perfect excuse. He wants to yell and scream and stamp his feet and take all of his repressed anger and feelings of inadequacy out on you so that he can feel like a big man. He wants to see you whimper and cry and bow down before him.

It’s pathetic, but Iwa’s content to watch it play out, drumming his fingers against the wallet in his hand, more irritated with the delay in getting his own coffee than the outburst itself-

Until the asshole reaches for his latte. 

Iwa’s good at reading people, predicting their movements before they’re even made. It’s a necessary skill in his profession, one that’s saved his skin more times than he can count. He sees the little vein in the asshole’s temple throb, his jaw tighten, and the moment his hand twitches towards the still steaming cup of coffee, Iwa knows that he fully intends on throwing it at you.

He moves quicker than a man of his size has any right to, an iron grip wrapping around the asshole’s wrist, squeezing. He glares, sneering down at the man who all of a sudden doesn’t seem quite so angry, much less imposing. 

“Get out,” he hisses.

It’s not a request.

But the asshole either has a death wish or he’s trying to salvage what’s left of his fragile ego, because his beady eyes narrow and he opens his mouth - no doubt to spew more vitriolic bullshit.

Iwa twists.

Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough that it sends the man to his knees, whimpering like a kicked puppy, desperate to relieve the pressure on his wrist. 

“I said,” he begins, his voice colder than ice, “get out.”

Yet he doesn’t spare the asshole another glance, not even as he releases his grip and the man skitters away like he’s been burned. The cafe is deathly silent, and without even glancing around, Iwa knows that they’ve managed to draw the attention of most if not all of its patrons.

And for once, he doesn’t give a single fuck.

Iwa’s eyes, his attention, all of it is focused entirely on you - on the wide eyed, stunned look on your pretty face. It’s a violent outburst, not nearly close to what he’s truly capable of, but in the quiet little cafe on a dreary Tuesday morning, glaringly out of place.

Will you burst into tears, he wonders. Ignore it, brush it aside and pretend it never happened? Stutter out more apologies for causing a fuss, for making a simple mistake? He somehow doubts you’ll be the type to scold him for it. No, you’re far too meek for that.

You surprise him, smiling slowly instead, and it’s like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

It’s a far cry from the contrite air you’d graced the asshole with earlier. It’s hesitant, nervous, but it’s very much real, and Iwa finds it difficult to stop the corners of his own lips from twitching upwards in response.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

He inclines his head a fraction. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t charge him for the coffee, even when he practically shoves the bills across the counter into your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” you shyly parrot back at him, and he almost fucking snorts when there’s a warmed chocolate chip muffin waiting with his coffee when it’s ready.

He’s being paid forty grand to make sure you’re dead by the end of the week, and you’re here giving him free muffins. Oikawa would see the humour in that. Of course, Oikawa would have absolutely no qualms in charming the absolute hell out of you seconds before he pulled the trigger. Realistically, he shouldn’t either. It’s his job, nothing personal.

To say he enjoys killing is probably a stretch, but he takes pride in it. Iwa’s good at what he does. It’s simple. Easy - so long as he follows his own rules.

This shouldn’t be any different. You’re cute, he supposes, in an odd sort of way. Innocent.

Endearing.

It shouldn’t have an effect on him. 

It doesn’t, but-

He could have killed you two days ago. He’d be willing to bet good money that he could’ve walked right to your apartment, knocked on your door, made up some bullshit excuse on the spot and you would have smiled and invited him right inside. 

And it’s not like you’d stand a chance of being able to fight him off.

Over the past few days there have been at least twelve different moments that Iwaizumi could have stepped in and snuffed that pretty little life of yours out without making a fuss and it would have been easy.

But he hadn’t.

There’s a difference between surveillance and stalking - it’s a fine line, a blurred one maybe, but it’s there all the same. After yet another night spent camped out watching you move about your apartment - cooking dinner for yourself, zoning out on the couch and fiddling with your phone while the tv plays in the background before finally curling up in bed in the early hours of the morning - Iwa comes to the realisation that he’s crossed it. 

He wonders why it doesn’t bother him like it should.

The next day, he goes back to your little coffee shop. There’s no muffin this time, but your face brightens when he walks through the door and when he goes to pick up his coffee there’s a tiny, bite sized cookie sitting atop the lid.

“Don’t tell my boss,” you whisper, darting a glance back over your shoulder even as another pretty little smile graces your features.

Something unexpectedly warm and pleasant sings through his blood, and this time Iwa allows his own lips to twitch into the faintest hint of a grin in response.

You really are a truly awful judge of character.

Maybe that’s your downfall, that beautiful, naive innocence you just bleed. It’s a wonder that nobody’s come along to take advantage of you, especially when you are so very ripe for the taking. 

Well, nobody until him, he supposes. 

Iwa doesn’t know for certain why the men who want you dead do, he doesn’t particularly care either, but he does know that whatever their reasons are, it’s not enough.

Neither is forty thousand dollars.

It takes time, more than he’d like, to find the root of it all. It’s messy and he has to call in a few favours from old friends, but Iwa is nothing if not thorough.

He’s never particularly enjoyed killing, but there’s a certain satisfaction he gets from watching the light leave their desperate, pleading eyes knowing that he’s finally done his job. When he comes home, his shirt flecked with blood, his hands still dripping with it and coaxes your stricken, tear stained face up into a lingering kiss, Iwa feels content.

They wanted you to disappear entirely, he made sure that you did. 

[chikkou]

Will you talk more about Lisa?? Lisa the character specifically but also your feelings on his feelings about Buddy? I just thought your analysis was so good and I want to hear other thoughts you have on her.

yall are honestly spoiling me rn sdhkfdjfks this is like a dream come true 

i already got into the stuff with buddy in this ask here but i have a LOT to say about lisa and the connection between her and buddy so u better settle in!

ok so firstly ill start with lisa. i played the original lisa game (lisa the first) not long after it first dropped in 2012, and im not even kidding when i said it changed me LMAO.... seeing a story about a girl suffering is nothing new, but austin jorgensens approach to it was so fucking unique. you dont just witness it, you get to EXPERIENCE it right along with her. many stories that involve sexual abuse/rape show or otherwise depict it explicitly for the shock value, which is both disgusting and, in my opinion, extremely fucking exploitative. i feel that it is horrific to dignify an act so deeply evil with screentime. but lisa stood out to me immediately because, even though you know exactly whats going on, the game NEVER shows anything explicit. everything is layered in subtext and symbolism, and austin is fantastic with indirect storytelling, so you learn so much from just a little drop of information. this applies not just to the game proper, but to the character as well.

in case its not clear: i absolutely ADORE lisa. she is my favorite character in all of the games, bar none. its going to sound kind of fucked up, but as a kid around her age going through some fucked up shit, her committing suicide at the end felt like a sort of victory to me. she knew she could never escape from marty or what he was doing to her. he leaks into every single part of her psyche, everything she ever cared about or loved is ruined because of him, and even the vague memory of her mother is completely corrupted, and turned into a muddled version of him. lisa the first also had the added benefit of some religious commentary, as there are crosses all over their home and marty is characterized as an extremely religious man, which i fucking LOVE and wish had come back in the painful, but its an acceptable loss. anyway, lisa committing suicide at the end was an act of defiance against not just marty, but martys god, as suicide is considered a mortal sin in catholicism. lisa knew she’d never be free of marty in life, so she escaped the only way she could; she was defiant to the end.

ive seen people complain that the painful has a bit of a “lost lenore” thing going on, since lisas death seems to fuel the Manpain of both brad and buzzo, but i actually disagree. on the contrary, its just like austin himself said - lisa will never be gone. lisa is ALWAYS there, with brad, and buzzo, and buddy, and marty, and yado, and the ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD. i dont necessarily think that there is something paranormal going on in the game, but i AM going to say that, unlike other cases of a girl/woman dying for a mans backstory, lisa isnt just a bittersweet memory they can reflect on and then put away when its convenient for them. she is a presence that is felt throughout the entire game. brad sees her more than once, sometimes watching, sometimes reprimanding him. buzzo is clearly haunted by her, as he cries out to her a few times in the joyful. every character who was directly touched by lisa - brad, marty, and buzzo - calls out to lisa as they die. call it their guilt or call it her actions, but in either case, it is clear that lisa just as significant of a character in the painful as she was in the first, even if she cant always be seen. even in a meta-sense, every game in the series - even the joyful, whose protagonist doesnt even know who she is - is named after her. she is at the center of everything that happens in them. 

that actually brings me to buddy, because i find the dynamic between her and lisa fucking fascinating. as i previously mentioned, brad never talked about his past with buddy, and snaps at her for bringing up his adoptive son dusty (rando), so it goes without saying that she definitely doesnt know who lisa is. in spite of that, though, lisa is a fucking massive part of buddys life, and while she may not know the person herself, i think she is aware that when people (and brad especially) look at her, they arent seeing HER. 

i mentioned it in another post, but even though brad takes it upon himself to raise and “protect” buddy, he seems to almost unwittingly recreate lisas appearance, primarily by allowing her hair to grow long even though he knows what a risk that is to her safety. he also treats buddy in a manner thats incredibly similar to how marty treated lisa (sans sexual abuse, of course) - he insults her, does not let her leave the house at all, and forces her to do unsavory things that no one should ever have to do (in buddys case, this means killing at least two innocent people because brad doesnt want a “weak” daughter). the most literal comparison between buddy and lisa is the fact that they are both very young girls being essentially held captive by their father figures, albeit for different reasons, and both long for freedom from their captors. 

theres also the fact that both buddy and lisa have to deal with misogyny and the effects of rape culture firsthand; they both battle against men who feel entitled to do with them whatever they please, and the threat of ongoing sexual abuse looms heavy over both of their heads. neither one can seek help from anyone; the neighbors in brad and lisas town seem complacent at best, if they even know what is happening to lisa at all, and buddys only allies (sans rando) are long dead by the start of the joyful. this is not just a hypothetical or a distant possibility. this is the real, tangible fate that will befall them if they cant somehow secure their safety.

sadly, because lisa wasnt playable in either of the rpgs, we dont know if she was able to fight as brad was, but it is highly probable that she had the innate skill but was never able to learn it (as marty highly discouraged them from learning “their grandfathers karate,” and seemed disgusted whenever brad did so). however, she did have ONE weapon she could make use of, and this is a weapon buddy ends up using, as well - her femininity. she became close to bernard (aka buzzo), made him fall in love with her, and then used him as a last ditch effort to stop martys abuse by having him mutilate her face. im not saying lisa never cared about bernard - in fact, i think she DID really love and care for him - but her own fucked up experiences with “love” meant she really couldnt understand what it was supposed to be like, or that it was wrong to manipulate the people you care about. lisa did very few things wrong - it pretty much just stops at the maiming of the cat and her manipulation of bernard - but she knew that she would never get away from marty without some kind of drastic action being taken, and scarring herself was her last ditch effort before ultimately committing suicide.

buddy ends up taking a somewhat similar tack in the joyful, and like in lisas case, its simultaneously resourceful and horrific. one of buddys key moves in the joyful is to flash the enemy (which the player obviously doesnt see) in order to distract them long enough to get the kill. its fucking horrible and disgusting and makes you feel so dirty, but then, how must buddy feel having to do something like that just to survive? shes just a child, but in a world where almost every man is out to get you, she knows this has to be done to save herself, very much like lisa. unlike in lisas case, though, buddy is successful in securing her safety in this way - lisas effort is for naught, and leads to her committing suicide not very long after. 

in a way, i sort of attribute buddys brutality to lisas omnipresence; all of the men pursuing buddy are just like marty, monsters who would harm a fucking child for their own disgusting ends, and i think that when buzzo said that lisa wouldve loved olathe, what he means is that she would have loved seeing so many horrible men being punished for what theyd done. so in my opinion, buddy carving out a place for herself in olathe by killing all those who would subjugate her seems very much in the mentality lisa would have had. sure, there are some innocents who sadly get roped into it, but that would definitely not be her intention; for example, if buzzo could have practiced amputation without harming a living thing, i dont think lisa would have asked him to practice on the cat. note the LACK of brutality at the beehive and the swamp bar, two of the few peaceful places in the painful and both devoid of predatory men hunting for buddy - lisa has no qualm with any of them. but marty? brad could hardly even get a full sentence out before killing him on the spot. i dont doubt that that has a great deal to do with lisas presence. 

ok i talked for a while LMAO but basically i think that, in a more metatextual sense, lisa and buddys relationship really strikes me as an accurate depiction of generational trauma. of course it was intentional with the more obvious trauma chain (marty to brad to buddy), but the trauma chain of marty to lisa to buddy is rarely ever addressed due to lisa not physically appearing in the painful. however, i believe it may inform buddys actions a great deal more than people realize - after all, buddys experience is unique, but who could understand it better than lisa? who knows that sort of pain, of being alone on an island, the lone woman trapped with a man (or men) who want nothing more than to cause you harm? even without her realizing it, lisa is guiding buddy, encouraging her to take back what is hers no matter the cost, to punish those who would try to take what they want from her. lisa might be dead, but she is a vengeful presence throughout every game, and buddys actions feel like theyre meant not only to save herself, but to avenge lisa, even if she doesnt realize it. at the end of the day, buddy and lisa both get to exact revenge against all the men who have wronged them, and they succeed. they are aggressive, and violent, and selfish, and ANGRY - and they have every fucking right to be. 

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 18

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___

Warning: Arguing, a scratch mark from a cat, and capslock!

___

For once Logan was not very focused on the music which was playing. His mind was stuck on Remus. On how tired he looked most of the time. Even in the moments when they had had a good time, like last weekend where they bought and assembled furniture together or when he jokes around at lunch, Logan could never quite blend out the deep dark rings under his eyes.

He knew that in those moments Remus did not fake his smile, that he did enjoy himself but now Logan recognized all the moments when Remus’s smile wasn’t genuine, when he spaced out, when a thought he had startled him. There were so many negative and destructive things going on in Remus’s head and Logan found himself being concerned over every last one of it, despite not even knowing what was going on.

But ultimately Logan could not nothing else. Remus had to make the step himself. He could only offer help so many times and Logan got the sense that he had done all he could. Silently Logan took a sip from his drink and glanced over to Janus. The band’s set would soon be finished and Janus had texted Patton and Logan that he wanted to talk to them.

About what? While Janus did not clarify, both Logan and Patton knew that it was about the twins. They did not have many opportunities to talk privately without them being around and today was their chance as both Roman and Remus had told them they’d stay at home for the night.

The song ended and the people in the bar clapped for a moment. Patton gave Logan a wary look and scooted around in the booth for a bit, as Janus eventually approached with a drink in his hand and settled down next to the pair.

“I hope my performance did raise the spirits?” Janus said nonchalantly and slowly rotated the glass in his hand.

Trying to sound convincingly happy Patton said: “It was great as always!”

“You don’t look so chipper though, dearest Patton.”

Logan clicked his tongue. He had a dislike for mind games. He had a dislike for manipulation. He had a dislike for Janus’s way of talking seemingly carelessly when he knew very well that it was perfectly constructed to get what he wanted. And right now, Logan had no nerves for this.

“Of course, he doesn’t! You called us here to talk about Remus’s predicament, which is by no means a “chipper” topic to discuss.”

“Don’t you say?” Janus said with a smirk that was clearly too bitter. “And I was under the impression that talking about a suicidal man was a fun matter.”

Logan shot Janus a viscous glare and took a sip from his drink.

“But,” Janus continued, “now in all seriousness; Do you think that Remus is going to go to therapy?”

Patton cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table. Quickly he looked from one man to the other before settling his eyes on his hands when he answered: “I wanna hope so. There’s nothing else we can do anyway.”

“Hope is rather unreliable in this case. And I have to agree that we really are unable to help Remus in any way. He is certainly in dire need for professional help.”

Logan nodded at Janus’s statement and said: “Agreed. Let me add that he was rather inquisitive when I talked with him about it. I do think that he is considering it. But what he will end up doing is still undecided.”

“Good. Well, not so good but it’s more than could have been expected at the beginning. Now let’s focus on Roman-”

“Why focus on Roman? He does not need our help,” Logan interrupted Janus.

With a huff Janus threw Logan a look and then said with a bitter smirk: “No, not at all! It’s not like he has chronically overworked himself for the past nine years, is in constant fear because of his brother who could spontaneously decide to kill himself, which would also result in him losing all the family he has left. And that leaves out the obvious show of self-neglect concerning the way he dresses and how he slept on the on a mattress on the floor. No, he doesn’t need our help at all.”

Logan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“While I agree that Roman is not in a great mental state, Remus is in immediate danger and keeping an eye on him should be our first priority. If we do not do that it will only cause to worsen Roman’s state.”

“And putting Roman on hold even longer? Making him feel like his problems are not as important as Remus’s? You do understand that it will make it even more difficult for him to reach out for help, don’t you? He has a right to be cared for just as much as Remus! He needs to feel important, not like the second-hand friend! He has a right of our compassion as well, not only Remus!” Janus voice got heated but not loud and the veins on Logan’s forehead popped up.

“Guys...” Patton mumbled for naught trying to stop this from escalating.

“I beg your pardon? When exactly did I treat Roman like a second-hand friend?!” Logan asked clenching his jaw.

“Let me recall... Did Roman not almost flee from his own flat so you could talk to Remus? Did I misremember that?”

“Hold on! You are twisting the facts! He left on his own accord and neither you or me could stop him from doing so. And you weren’t protesting either to be alone with Roman! You are biased by him and I will not accept you talking down to me just because you figuratively cannot get into Roman’s pants!”

“You-”

“Okay, time out for both of you! Please! This is getting us nowhere!”

Finally, Patton had enough and grabbed both men’s wrists before they could talk any further. Both reluctantly stopped and Patton let go of them again. Slowly, he looked from one to the other, giving both disappointed looks before he took a breath and nodded to himself.

“Thank you,” Patton said calmly still watching both of them. “Now, uh, I think both of you actually have a point... Remus and Roman are very co-dependent and we need to be aware of that. Like – I think they both need support. Just. Differently. Roman definitely needs attention. Needs to be seen and praised, I think. He was so happy dancing and performing for us, so we probably could encourage him a little more to do that? And for Remus... While we can’t really do more and shouldn’t pressure him, I think, we should show him that we stand behind him. That we want him to get better.”

Neither Janus nor Logan spoke for a moment. Patton took a nervous sip from his beer, a little unclear of why nobody spoke and tried to calm himself. He didn’t think that the others were silent because he had made a good point. Because he was right and more objective in his opinion than they had been.

Janus sighed and was about to give in when he felt his phone buzz and took it out of his pocket. He furrowed his brows as he saw Virgil’s name on the screen and opened the text message.

Favourite Nephew: need your help at the twins come over asap

In his life after the accident Janus had run very few times. Once after getting Latona away from her boyfriend. Once when Orcus’s wife needed the ride to the hospital when she got in premature labour with their first baby. Once when he rushed to Virgil’s high school when he had his worst panic attack.

Now he could add one more time. Panicked he stood up, grabbed his cane to carry it by his side and called to the bartender over his shoulder: “Put it on my tab!”

And with that Janus began to run as well as he could. The clear voice in the back of his mind said he was overreacting and that his running was inefficient and would most likely hurt him more than help. But the heart pounding in his chest cried and told him to go faster. And so, he went faster, until he finally got to the door of the twins’ apartment and tried to open the door. It was unlocked and for the first time in 23 years he ran up the stairs.

With little thought Janus got to the apartment door and opened it quickly, already having mentally prepared for the worst.

He had prepared wrong.

Virgil was snorting with laughter as he steadied himself against the couch, Roman was cursing facing one corner of the room while gesticulating aggressively. And in approximately the middle of the two men Remus stood cradling something white and furry in his arms.

There were a few things rushing through Janus’s mind in that moment. None of them were how much his leg was hurting or how strange it was that neither Logan nor Patton had out run him despite them obviously having followed him, since he heard their quickened breathing behind him. One of them was why on earth Roman was cursing against the wall and why Remus held this fluffy thing like one would hold a baby and why Virgil was laughing like a maniac.

But most presently there was the sense of giant relief settling in Janus’s head. Laxly he set his cane on the ground and took the weight of his left leg. With his shivering hand he massaged the bridge of his nose, hiding the weak smile on his lips, as he sighed loudly enough for Virgil to hear it and turn towards him.

“What the fuck have I been called into?” Janus asked with a mockingly annoyed tone and Virgil tried to calm himself as Remus gasped offendedly.

“Do not curse in front of my child!” Remus exclaimed as he put his hand over the fluffy something’s ears, which Janus now realised was a white cat.

“This BEAST IS NOT YOUR CHILD!” Roman snapped and was about to turn when Remus barked something in Spanish back and effectively kept him from turning around.

Virgil began laughing even more and bend over holding his stomach with his right hand. Janus quirked up one eyebrow and made a few steps inside, so to give Logan and Patton more space to enter as well, while Virgil looked over to them and gave a faint wave before he tried to catch himself again.

Then after a solid minute Virgil got up a bit and wheezed towards Remus: “Please, cut – cut this out! You’re killing me! I – I oh my god, you’re comedy gold!”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!? COMEDY?!”

“For fuck’s sake, Roman! Keep in your damn corner! He’s still bleeding and I ain’t picking you up!”

“Bleeding?” Janus chimed in worriedly.

Quickly he gave his nephew a once over again, and found that the hoodie sleeve on his left arm was pulled up and a paper towel was pressed over the inside of it, red bleeding through.

“Yeah,” Virgil said out of breath but pretty relaxed and held his arm up a little for Janus to see, “the cat got me good. She’s a real rascal that one, which is why Remus has to hold her and apparently your Romeo can’t see blood, which is why I called you over, ‘cause I cannot for the life of me bandage this arm with my right hand. Didn’t think you’d bring a whole army though.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring them, they followed me. Now, Remus, where do I find bandages and how long of a cut are we talking?” Janus asked as he walked towards Virgil.

Remus didn’t look to Janus at first but turned to Patton and Logan behind him: “Can you close the door? I don’t want her to escape. She might get startled.”

“Ah, yeah of course!” Patton stammered and closed the door.

Remus shot him a smile and then told Janus he’d get the bandages out of the bathroom in a second. And just like that he disappeared for a moment. Janus shook his head and told Virgil to sit down on the couch. He settled next to his left and took a first look at the arm. To his surprise the scratch the white cat had left was three inches long and pretty deep.

“I’ve told him to wash it out and wanted to disinfect it already, but Mrs. Snuffles here was acting all cranky when I tried to go to the bathroom before,” Remus announced from the hallway and set the bandages, a disinfectant spray and Bepanthen on the coffee table.

Janus shot him a confused look as he pressed a little kiss on top of the cats head and readjusted the little creature in his arms.

“Mrs. Snuffles?” Patton asked with a small and watery voice looking at the white cat in question.

Before Remus could answer, Roman pressed his head against the wall with a soul crushing groan.

In dramatic agony he complained: “Why did you have to name her? Oh, why are you doing this to me? We will not take in this most horrendous and foul fiend! She broke into our store and into our flat! She’s a delinquent! She assaulted the man we got to help her! She’s dangerous!”

“How can chu say dis about dis wittwe cutie! She is adowabwe and puwe!” Remus said in a silly voice which made Roman groan even louder.

Meanwhile Janus started to fix Virgil up. Carefully, he disinfected the wound and put some ointment on it. He told Virgil to let the ointment absorb a little and watched Patton and Logan awkwardly walk inside. They were watching Remus sitting down on the floor and cuddle the cat in his arms.

Watching Remus holding the animal, hearing her purr loudly while Remus pressed some little, soft kisses on her head, Janus had a hard time to imagine how she could possibly have caused such a huge ruckus before. But somehow Janus forgot to wonder as he realized how happy and silly Remus looked doting over this animal and gave Virgil a little curious look. Virgil shrugged with a grin and Janus shook his head. And just then he glimpsed over to Logan and Patton.

Oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy.

Perplexed both men stared at Remus cooing over the cat, very obviously and strongly smitten. Patton was blushing furiously and Logan’s eyes were big as plates.

Janus had to hold back a barking laugher. How quickly the table could turn.

Who was it, who wanted to get into one of the Segura Reyes twin's pants now?

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

@winter-jay-official

@a-ghostlight-for-roman

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@croftersjam15

[bangtan-sonyeonddaeng]

Jackson Zombie Apocalypse AU|

The main rule you always set for yourself was to remain a lone wolf. Having people to worry about taking care of would just slow you down. You knew that it would get you killed, as you saw it happen to countless others, rushing in to save their loved ones and sacrificing themselves. That wasn’t something you were about. In this world you knew it was every man for himself and kill or be killed. 

It’s harsh, but it’s the reality you lived in. After the virus spread and you saw all your friends and family turned into mindless killing machines you made it a point to set out on your own. Sure you grouped up with others when it was convenient or benefitted you, but ultimately you eventually left, remaining alone again. That was until you met a certain man with puppy eyes as wide as saucers. 

He was with a group of 4 other people. They were attempting to scavenge through a convenience store to get food for themselves. You knew there was a group of zombies headed this way, that’s why you were patiently sat in a tree until you knew for sure the coast was clear. You sat back and watched them, they were reckless. Making loud noises and hollering. It was then you saw the first zombie break through the tree line and head right for the store. 

Those idiots are all going to get themselves killed. 

They must have heard the zombies coming because 4 of them bolted out of the store. 

Where’s the 5th one? 

You tried to peer inside of the store with the binoculars but couldn’t see anything. You waited a few moments before he came running out of the store. 

“GUYS! THEY HAD SOME OREOS LE- oh shit.” He takes off running back into the store slamming it shut and frantically looking around for something to barricade the door with. 

Idiot! The store front is all glass they’re just going to break the windows and get in. 

You survey the area and notice there were about 10 zombies in this small group. You didn’t see anymore. You are debating whether you should break your rule and go save this guy, or just stay in the tree and watch everything unfold. There was apparently a storage room on the second floor because you saw the top window open and the guy look around for a way out, that’s when his eyes meet yours. 

“Hey! You! Help me please!”  You shake your head no at him and his jaw drops. “Seriously? You’re just going to let me die?”

“I don’t even know you. Why would I risk my life to save you?”

“Because we’re both humans! We're in this together.”

“You got yourself into this mess you get yourself out.”

“Please I’m begging you. Those other guys had all our weapons I don’t have anything. I am seriously going to die if you leave me.” Just then one of the zombies breaks the glass and a few head into the store. “Shit, please oh my god I’ll do anything just save me! I’ll leave you alone after this I promise just.. I’m not ready to die.” He’s pleading with you, begging even and you are having an internal battle with your conscious. “PLEASE!” You spring into action, jumping down from the tree with your machete and crossbow in hand. You lay waste to the ones outside before making your way in, being careful to be quiet and use you cross bow and machete instead of your gun, not wanting to alert the other zombies of your presence. You kill about 9 of them and make your way upstairs .You notice that the door is wide open and can see the man on the ground with the zombie over top of him, struggling to bite him while the man is trying to throw him off. He’s terrified. You can see it in your eyes. And that’s all the motivation you need to take out your gun and shoot the zombie in the head. It collapses on top of him and the man is frozen for a moment, panting heavily and contemplating what just happened.

“You’re welcome.” His gaze snaps to you immediately. 

“Y-you.. you came?”

“Yeah, couldn’t just let you die now could I?” He smiles at that and shoves the zombie off of him, bounding over to you and pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Thank you. Oh my God thank you I thought for sure that was going to be the end of me.”

“Gross! You’re covered in blood get off of me!” You shove him away but it doesn’t deter the smile on his face.

“What’s your name?”

“It’s y/n.” You try to dust the blood of of your clothes but all you do is smear it around and make it worse.

“My name is Jackson.” 

“Nice to meet you. Alright you’re saved now. Go on back to your group.” 

“Are you kidding?! Those assholes left me here, you really think I am going to go back with them? I just met up with them a few days ago and we agreed to have each other’s backs and they already betrayed me.” 

“That’s the harsh reality we live in Jackson.” 

“Yeah well.. I wanted to believe at least for a little bit that there were still some decent people left in this messed up world.” 

“And it’s exactly that kind of thinking that will get you killed someday.”

“Well not this time. It saved me actually. I trusted you and you came through for me.” 

“That was just a one time thing, don’t you get your hopes up.”

“But y/n I have no weapons now. No food. Surely you should keep me with you so your efforts don’t go to waste when I die of starvation? All that hard work would have been for nothing. You risking your life would have been for naught.” 

“Jackson..” You sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of your nose. 

“Come on I am actually a really good fighter! Give me that machete I’ll mess some zombies up. I used to be a fencer you know.” You consider his words, having someone that not only could hold their own but could help kill the zombies would be a good addition. You think this over for a few moments before you hear a groan from outside. You look out the window and now see a whole horde of zombies heading towards the store. 

“Damnit. Jackson we need to go. Now.” 

“What? Why-” He follows your gaze and you can see the panic in his eyes.

“Now is not the time to panic get your ass in gear and let’s go.” You throw the machete at him, he catches it by the handle thankfully. You grab his hand and take off running out of the store and in the opposite direction from where you came. 

“Thought the smaller towns weren’t supposed to have as many zombies in them.” 

“Usually they don’t. But the hordes can travel wherever the want they have no restrictions! Less talking. More running. Save your breath.” You tug him along as you both go racing through the streets of the small town. You keep running until you get to the outskirts and Jackson collapses on the ground. 

“I can’t run anymore. I’m done.” 

“You can rest for 5 minutes then we’re going. I will leave your ass behind if you don’t follow me.” You sit down next to him and pull some water out of your bag. Jackson eyes it and you hand him a bottle. He starts to chug it and you slap him on the back. He starts coughing loudly and looks at you in shock.

“Why the hell did you do that?!”

“I swear how did you even survive this long.. You need to conserve the water. That’s a limited supply until we find a new fresh water source. You can’t just drink it like that. Honestly are you sure you’re not just going to be a burden?” His face falls at that and you feel a pang in your chest. “Hey, listen I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time. It’s just.. after seeing everyone I care about die I made it a rule to travel alone, and not get attached to anyone ever again. It’s just my walls and stubbornness talking. I don’t actually think you’re a burden.” The corners of his lips tug up in a smile after that. 

“Thanks y/n. I know I don’t really know much about surviving here. To be honest the only reason I’ve survived this long is probably because I’ve always been with a group. The fact you’ve made it this long by yourself is really admirable. Whatever you can teach me, I would be very grateful.” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to be a long term thing, remember?”

“Yeah. But at least for the time we will be traveling together. There’s no reason you can’t give me pointers and stuff, right? Like my mentor? Until your baby bird is strong enough to leave the nest?” You chuckle at that and Jackson’s eyes light up seeing you smile for the first time. “Your smile is pretty. You should do it more often.” You blush and look away, suddenly feeling self conscious. 

“5 minutes are up. Let’s go. There’s a farm house in the distance there do you see it?”

“You mean that one at the top of the hill like 10 miles away?!”

“It’s not that far, come on. Quit being such a baby. Do you want to survive or not?” He nods his head, determined. “Then get up and let’s go.” You know you’re being gruff with him but you can’t help it. He needs to learn how to survive in this world and you can’t coddle him. He doesn't complain once the whole way over there. You approach the farm house and notice it has a well, which means there should still be water in the house. There’s also an old car in the front yard, you make a mental note to see if there are keys in the house somewhere and pray that the car will start. You both walk into the house and glance around. Dust has settled and it’s obvious no one has been here for a while. 

“Good. No one else is here.” You set your bags on the table along with your weapons and collapse in the dining room chair. “You hungry?”

“Do you actually have food?”

“Yeah. Protein bars. Snagged them a while back but they’re still good.” You toss him one and his eyes light up. He scarfs it down but this time you don’t scold him. When he finished the protein bar he looks at you with an odd look in his eyes.

“When was the last time you had Oreos?”

“Oh gosh probably like, a year?” He pulls some out from under his shirt. 

“You actually kept those?!”

“Of course I did!! Food is food! And plus I risked my ass for these Oreos so you better appreciate me for that!” You can’t help it. You burst out laughing and so does he. The stress from everything you both had went through seems to just melt away as the two of you let your laughter ring out into the home. When you settle down you look at him and he’s handing you a cookie. You take it and eat it, savoring the taste as you know it’ll be a while before you come across anything like this ever again. 

“Thank you, Jackson.” 

“You’re welcome. Listen um.. I know you said this is just a temporary thing but, I really hate being alone. If I promise not to get in your way and actually carry my weight can we stay together? At least until maybe we find another group I can go with?” Although you hate to admit it, in the short amount of time you two have been together you have grown at least a little bit fond of him. He’s funny, and seems to genuinely care for others which is rare in this world. 

“I guess that would be o-” Before you can finish your sentence you are pulled into a bone crunching hug.

“Thank you! I promise you won’t regret it. We’re in this together now. I got your back and you got mine right?” He pulls away and holds his hand out to you for a fist bump. You laugh but touch your fist to his. 

“Yeah, I got your back Jackson. I promise.” 

[bunny-wk-fanfic]

I don't know if you have seen MDZS, but can you put Kagome in a relationship with Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian?

Gonna be honest, I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you for introducing me to this series... With that said, I hope you enjoy this piece!

Kagome wasn’t sure how long she had been travelling with the two, it didn’t really matter to be honest since she couldn’t go home. The Shikon sent her here, somewhere in China, and all attempts to return to Japan had been all for naught. So instead, when they stumbled upon her, while she had been bathing of all things, they insisted she travel with them until she could be returned to a village safely. It soon changed when they witnessed her abilities when they crossed paths with a restless spirit.

“What’cha thinking about, ‘Gome-chan?” a youthful voice broke through her thoughts, two arms slipping over her shoulders and a firm chest pressed against her back.

“Nothing much. Contemplating time.” her own hands toyed with the long fingers of the young man's, observing the differences between them.

A huff blew past her ear, tone turning slightly pouty. “Booo, how boring!” a pointed chin dropped atop her head, snickers escaping him when she gave his fingers a tug in reprimand.

“What should I be thinking of then, brat?” a gurgle of a noise escaped her when she was drawn in tighter to his hold.

“I’m not a brat!” a tug was given to a lock of her hair, more snickers echoed around them when she tipped to the side to avoid any more tugging.

“Act like a childish-brat, and I’ll treat you like a childish-brat!” a quick jab to his stomach had air whooshing out of him, giving her the room to twist about and slip from his hold.

Wei allowed himself to fall back, black hair and silk robes billowing out around him. His gaze sharpened when he saw when her own eyes traced along his form, shifting into a more provocative pose that allowed his loosen robes to reveal a hint of skin. “I happen to be masculine, and very much an adult.” his head was propped in one hand while the other trailed down his exposed chest, teasing the edge of his robes with a few playful tugs.

Lips pursing and gaze narrowing on the man, Kagome blushed when she realized she had been caught staring. “Only when it seems to suit you.” turning away, she moved to a new spot to sit, closer to the other member of their little party that seemed to be the only one capable of reeling in Wei’s antics and energy. “I’m seriously contemplating about muzzling him at this point.”

Lan hummed as he offered her a cup of tea, silently filling the other two. “The idea has crossed my mind from time to time as well.”

“Wha-!” Wei’s cry filled the calm space as he physically threw himself across Kagome’s lap, who was conveniently the closest person. His arms wrapped around her waist as he settled. “How cruel!”

Arms slowly lowering, Kagome sighed as she eyed the steaming tea. “Careful. Would hate to scald that manly head of yours with tea.” the arms around her tightened, face nuzzling into her stomach with low grumbles. Attempting to fight of the heat flooding her cheeks, she eyed the now messy head of hair. “Then again, I doubt it would harm that ego of yours.”

A huff from beside her had her turning to observe Wei’s opposite. Lan often reminded her of Sesshoumaru; tall, silent, calm and collected, and obviously a brilliant tactician. Wei on the other hand… it was hard to tell, what with the two souls. Her heart broke as one was slowly dieing, seemingly happy to do so. Taking a sip of her tea, she set the cup aside to free his tied hair and began to comb her fingers through the long locks.

“You spoke of needing supplies.” Lan’s voice was a smooth tenor that helped offer a sense of calm to their break in travels.

“Un.” nodding her head, a smile curved at the lazy expression on Wei’s face. “While I do not use an instrument like you and your peers, I still am able to use tools to help accomplish tasks.” her brows furrowed as she watched the motions of her fingers, finding it unfair at how silky the black hair felt. Like ribbons that slipped between her fingers. Why did men get all the luck?

“Such as?” slanted golden eyes slid her way, cup poised to take a sip though waiting for her to answer first.

Pausing in her ministrations of Wei’s hair, Kagome stumbled at just how much Lan reminded her of Sesshoumaru. Her reply can with a stuttering start, “P-paper.” she pulled her hands from Wei’s hair much to his whining, using them to indicate about the size she needed. “About, this size?” she eyed how her thumb and pointer fingers made a frame, based on memories of the lessons Miroku gave her when it came to sacred sutras and ofudas. “Yes, about this size. Along with a calligraphy set.”

With a hum from Lan, he finally took a sip of his tea, also looking at Kagome’s raised hands. They both watched as she readjusted them, obviously she was mentally measuring the size of paper she desired. Her posture suddenly jumped and locked into place with a quiet squeak, cheeks blooming into bright pink.

A sleek brow rose at the sudden change in the woman next to him, cup lowering slowly before the two broke into chaos. Leaving Lan to watch silently as the two seemed to once again stir into a sudden burst of energy.

“Oi!” a sharp slap smacked against the back of Wei’s head, his purring snickers turning into a pained whine. Kagome was quick into pushing the young man off her lap, actually kicking him away from her. “What did you think you were grabbing?!”

A mess of red and black silk and wild black hair danced through the air as Wei rolled to the floor in a mess, his gaze slightly dazed until it finally focused back on a flushed Kagome. A grin was slowly curling his lips in a devious smile, lids lowering over smoldering eyes. “From what I remember on our first meeting, the perfect peach.”

Even Lan’s brows shot up as his eyes widened at the brazen words. He was quick to turn to Kagome, restraining her as she attempted to launch herself at the amused young man.

“Peach?!” she struggled in the tight hold, wriggling in attempts to break free. “Forget a muzzle, I’ll strangle you instead!” even with her arms pinned to her sides, her hands made the motions of said strangling. When Lan’s hold proved strong and unyielding, she kicked out her legs instead.

Jaw clenching and eyes shut tight, Lan grunted as she continued to struggle in his hold. He more than understood her ire, it was well deserved. It was the fact that his own body was reacting to… said peach bouncing around in his lap. “Kagome, please cease.”

“But Wei-!” her leg kicked out once again, this time taking aim of Wei’s hands attempting to reach of her feet.

“Yes. And he will be punished appropriately.” he pulled her closer, stifling her movements somewhat. “Until then, calm down, please.”

Wei snickered when she finally did, her face flushing once again, only this time at Lan’s gritted words. He turned to watch him, grin curling a little larger at seeing his face pulled tight as he continued to restrain the now stiff Kagome. “Ne, guess I’m not the only that’s appreciative of your… peach.”

Shoulders hunching, pink lips pulled back in a snarl, Kagome hissed. “Sacred beads… smoother in your sleep…” her growled words had Wei chuckling, a little nervously.

“Ah. Too far?” his hair spilled around his shoulders as he toyed with the ribbon that once held it out of his face. He winced when blue eyes narrowed even further. “I’ll, uh, I’ll uh go… get those supplies you asked for!”

The two watched as he hastily tied his hair back as he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping as he rushed about the room to gather a few things before ducking out with a nervous chuckle. “I’ll be back soon!”

After a few minutes, Kagome’s posture eased, tension leaving her as she slowly climbed to her own feet. “I apologize.” her cheeks flushed, unwilling to look Lan in the eye due to shear embarrassment. Instead, she took her cooled cup of tea and sat back down, sure to put some space between the two of them.

“What…” a hand was raised as Lan cleared his throat a few times, cheeks still stained with a faint blush. “What are the sacred beads for?”

“Hmm?” she finally dared a chance to look up at him. When he raised a brow rather than repeating, Kagome blinked as she remembered that she had muttered under her breath about sacred beads. “Oh, sacred beads!” she turned back to the picturesque scene of the forested mountains before them “They are used to make a kusodama. A necklace of subjection. Once finished, placed around the neck of an individual, the one who placed them there needs to only say a word of subjection to activate them.”

He answered her with a curious hum, returning to his own tea. The awkwardness between them slowly dissipated. “In what methods are there?”

“Well, from my studies I’ve learned a slight shock, freezing the individual for a few moments, to the ultimate of forcing them to their knees.” the last one was putting it mildly, but she thought it better than explaining the case as it was with Inuyasha, with a violent meeting of face to earth. “But I wouldn’t do that to Wei-san. I just got so-!” with a huff, she finished her tea.

“I do believe it is his way of showing… affection?” his statement ended sounding more like a question, and by his furrowed brows, even Lan was aware of that.

Snorting softly, Kagome returned the now empty cup to Lan. “I believe that was a display of ill manners at best, and lust at worst. If it was the latter, then I have to tell you that there is a difference between lust and honest affection.” her fingers went to plucking at the sleeves of her own robes. Since meeting the two, cultivators as they called themselves, Kagome took to wearing the fashions of the land she was in. Well, at least the masculine fashions, it allowed for easier movements when they crossed paths with spirits and the like.

“Cannot the two be one and the same?” his honest question drew her attention back to him, he was observing her, surprisingly intently at that.

“Hmm, no. They can go together, felt separately for another, but they are not the same.” turning away, she leaned back on her elbows with a small kick of her feet. “And I would appreciate affection before lust in such a relationship. Don’t you think?”

The silence was a comfortable one, the breeze from the forest cool and moist as it carried the scent of fresh rain and sappy pine. “I think it best you go after Wei-san, who knows what trouble he’ll get into unsupervised.” she tossed a smirk towards Lan when he gave a low agreement.

“Will you be alright?” it was an honest question, his concern for her easily heard as he stood up.

“I’ll hold the fort, so to speak.” she shifted when a patch of sunlight broke through the clouds that had gathered since that morning. Her voice practically purred as she smiled and relaxed in her spot. “I’ll be fine until you both return.”

Lan observed her from his spot above her. With a soft smile, he bent down, and pressed a light kiss to her brow. He was already his full height when her eyes opened, and she hummed in question, fingers covering where he had kissed. Head tilting when he continued to look down at her, she could only blink when he simply said he would return swiftly and turned to bring back a wayward young man.

“What strange individuals I’ve found myself with. Again.” rubbing at the spot, she returned to basking in the sunlight while she waited for them to come back. She looked forward to what the future had in store for her in their company, she just hoped it wasn’t as messy as her last grand adventure.

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 32 – Wings of Trouble

“Oof... I am so sorry... Sorry I’m such a pain in the... Ooof...!”

“Save your apologies. This is nothing for us. We are simply doing what we should – tending to the legitimate visitor of Lukedonia. After all, we are the proud Central Knights.”

A Central Knight with a slick pair of sunglasses replied, his stance tall and solemn.

He was carrying Yuhyung on his back, to deliver the grievously exhausted human to his bedroom.

Several Central Knights they ran into on their way would flicker their eyes at their behind, surely a strange sight in their homeland.

The moment an unknown error occurred upon activation of QuadraNet, Yuhyung had to fling his arms here and there, like a visual designer who received a request for editing with only 10 minutes left from deadline.

At the end of a marathon of toil came a knockout for the human researcher.

He was not really knocked out; he was both conscious and awake.

Nonetheless, he did not respond to name-calling and shakes the surrounding spectators offered, as if he were under a sleep paralysis.

And nobody posed a question or reprimand at the man.

Everyone knew that the virtual beast was not completely at peace; they have merely put it under a stun.

Which means Yuhyung would have to cross off from his calendar the day he is allowed to fly back home.

Not to mention nobody knew how much more work would be waiting for him for the duration of his prolonged stay.

To add to his burden, Lukedonia boasted not a single soul they could assign for Yuhyung to help him, so he was to be entrusted with the entire labor.

Perhaps that was why Yuhyung could not orient himself back to his usual self, which is why Lascrea had to call upon one of her Central Knights to take him back to his bed.

“You have done well.”

Said Rael, who had been tagging along from the communication chamber.

He volunteered for an escort that was not needed at all.

It was his duty to attend to Lukedonia’s official guest, as the ambassador of nobles.

At least that was the reason he gave.

When Yuhyung finally hit the comfy bed with his back, the Central Knight walked outside, as suggested by Rael when he said he can take care of the rest.

That was when the blonde noble pulled out what he really wanted with his guest.

“I have something to tell you.”

Instantly Yuhyung stopped whining upon the elegant blanket.

Rael had to add on to what he said, for the human’s eyes bloated and began rolling like crazy upon hearing that there was something Rael wanted from him.

“No, you’ve done nothing wrong. You said you did not see this trouble coming at all.”

However, that did nothing to pacify Yuhyung.

“Uh... Uhm... So... W-w-what can I d-do for you...?”

Now the researcher was shivering as if he were met by a pack of ravenous wolves.

Which is why Rael felt guilty as hell.

He knew what he was dumping on Yuhyung, since no one else was supposed to know what he was about to unleash.

However, he knew he could not undo this; his honor, dignity, and life as the head of the Kertias were at stake.

“This would sound outrageously sudden, but... Do you remember what happened the day we left KSA?”

“Uh... Oh, yes! Of course I do. I was trying to safekeep the gas KSA was once developing, but it crashed and... But why would you ask me about that?”

“Have you ever tried that gas on non-humans?”

“Non-humans? Uh... No, I haven’t. I mean, it was supposed to be a top secret, and it was targeted towards modified humans in the first place. So nobody ever thought of using it for non-human creatures.”

Yuhyung was rubbing Rael’s face with his eyes as he spoke, making it very conspicuous that he had no idea why the Kertia would pull out this topic at this moment.

Checking very carefully – perhaps too carefully – that there was not a soul around, Rael started to explain as calmly as possible.

He told Yuhyung that he cannot summon his soul weapon, and he has not the faintest idea why.

Since he has never brought up Grandia after he was exposed to Yuhyung’s creation, for now he decided to presume the gas is the cause of such phenomenon.

And Rael made extra-sure that his words were cautiously chosen, so that he would not offend the human.

Nevertheless, he wished his speech were a little better, because Yuhyung’s body shriveled as he continued, to ultimately grovel at his feet.

“I-I-I am terribly sorry, sir! I... I did not expect you to go through such trouble because of me...!”

“Uh, we don’t know for sure if your gas is to really blame. No need to apologize already.”

“Already...? So you’re saying you expect to see me apologizing someday! So allow me to do that right now! Please, just go ahead and kill me, sir!”

Rael kneaded his forehead, holding quite a fabulous showcase of a bow and confession.

“Please don’t do this, I pray you. Right now I need your knowledge. Is there any possibility that gas could affect a noble like me...?”

“Uh... I don’t know. Right now the answers I can give you are limited. It’d be best for me to analyze the components of the gas to deduce the result, but...”

Rael knew that Yuhyung must stay at Lukedonia until the unidentified issue with QuadraNet is thoroughly mapped.

‘Does that mean I have to just sit and wait?’

Rael could feel terror and discomposure rushing through his veins.

He could not tell when his name will be taken off from the waiting list. And what if in the meantime, somebody sees through what has bound him?

At the same time, Rael could picture the patriarchs of Kertias, taking him apart with vicious speech as if they have waited for all their lives.

However, coercing Yuhyung to do something about this will not take him anywhere.

Knowing that made Rael’s chest clench harder, but there was nothing else he could do.

“Very well. Thank you for your time.”

“Uh... I’ll try to see if I can come up with any possible reason why. No, I’d rather start my research at this...”

“No, please. No need to do that. QuadraNet is all that matters right now, so please concentrate on bringing it back to life. We can handle my soul weapon later.”

Stating the exact opposite of what lay in his heart, Rael told Yuhyung to get some rest before he left.

Yuhyung could not remove his eyes from the door for a while even after the noble ambassador’s departure. He managed to move only when his waist dispensed a sound.

Which made him scowl so hard he looked like a completely different person.

<You hear me? Don’t tell me you already fell asleep.>

Yuhyung’s face turned darker at the dreary voice from his walkie-talkie.

But he knew he should not waste his time in answering.

“N-no, sir. I’m here.”

<I just checked that the Kertia made it back to his mansion. And I know you were the last one he was with. What did you talk about?>

Yuhyung nipped at his lips, as if he could not believe what he was about to do.

He was, however, powerless against his party’s demand.

At the end of Yuhyung’s tale came a hoard of maniac laughter.

<Yes, this is it! At last, the Illiness clan will see the light!>

Yuhyung ground his lips together as Deneb cackled, seemingly oblivious of the human.

Yuhyung apparently was hating himself that he has actually done it.

*****

As invisible skirmish was whirring to life in Lukedonia, Frankenstein was in no better situation.

‘Just what is the problem...?’

He had been pondering ever since Tao relayed to him what had happened with the QuadraNet.

At first he landed on the same page as the three modified humans of RK: Union may be behind all this.

As for Frankenstein, he had a good reason to suspect the Union.

He could still see how the man in the iron mask stood in the werewolf realm.

And now that Tao sent a troubleshooting report that there might have been an attempt of hacking, his suspicion started to spread like wildfire on a field of reed.

He thus coordinated his train of thoughts the same way Tao did.

If there really was an attempt of hacking from within, and if the Union is to actually curse for it, the ones responsible would be the ones with history of contacting the Union.

‘Which would be the werewolves.’

He did not feel like he was being too dramatic, because of the new facts Tao shared during their briefing.

Frankenstein frowned and shook his head as he was thinking of the brown-haired werewolf doctor.

‘Fine. Dr. Adne walked under Maduke’s wings on his own feet to serve as lead researcher in several of his projects. However, that does not serve as a proof that he is in alliance with the Union.’

And even if Adne is still dreaming of being a scientist, that did not put him in alignment with the Union, Frankenstein thought.

‘It’d make more sense for him to side with us. I mean, from a scientist’s point of view, I doubt he can find any other project more mouthwatering than the QuadraNet project.’

Frankenstein was trying his best to soothe himself, and his effort was made to naught due to an ominous idea that decided to poke him out of blue.

‘Things would change if his interest lies in biotechnology instead of IT. That is one thing now no one among us can provide.’

And if Adne really is an affiliate of Union, that would mean they have exposed their most confidential project to their worst nemesis.

Frankenstein grit his teeth tight in order to stop his head from losing control.

He even had to mumble to himself to accomplish the feat.

“You’re rushing, Frankenstein. Yes, you are. Even if he was once pledged to serve Maduke, it’s too soon to make him the culprit for all this.”

Frankenstein repeated similar statements a few more times before he reached for a plate of sandwich to fill his stomach.

He did not cease his skimming of documents as he was eating, which was why he failed to realize how the monitor – which he definitely turned off after talking to Tao – was blinking with light.

How it was turned off by itself promptly afterwards, as he continued to make his eyes and mouth busy, exhibiting nothing more in particular that could be spied from him.

(next chapter)

Do you remember how in Chapter 17, Rael thinks to himself that Yuhyung’s bag felt lighter than he last held it? Now you know the reason why. This fic is still in the stage where small troubles slowly build up into a crisis. It’d be a headache for me coordinate all the microscopic plots once I reach the crisis part, but I’ll do my best. :)

[mst3kproject]

Goliath and the Dragon

I promised you colour, and here it is, with a side of My Cheese Steak!  It was produced by our old friend Samuel Z. Arkoff, and actor Salvatore Furnari played an elf in The Christmas that Almost Wasn’t and Timotheus in Hercules and the Captive Women.  The rest of the cast may not have been on MST3K, but they still have distinguished bad movie pedigrees of their own.  Philippe Hersent was in Film Crew feature The Giant of Marathon, and a lot of the other actors, including star Mark Forest and leading lady Leonora Ruffo, were in other sword-and-sandal movies I’ve featured as Episodes that Never Were.  In fact, looking at the cast list right now, I discovered that Gaby Andre was also in my previous movie, The Strange World of Planet X.  I hope she’s better in this one.

Once Upon a Time there lived Emilius the Mighty, who was so brawny and manly he was called the Goliath of Thebes.  He gets back from the pits of hell to find that his much skinnier brother Illus is in love with Princess Thea, the daughter of Goliath’s sworn enemy.  Goliath of course disapproves, but Illus thinks it’s because Goliath is in love with Thea herself, and spends much of the running time moping and whining. Meanwhile the villain, Eurytus, has decided to marry Thea in order to become the next king – although he’s also promised to marry a woman named Arsinoe in exchange for her assassinating Goliath.  Arsinoe, however, falls in love with Goliath after he saves her from a bear.  It takes most of the movie to sort out the six layers of scheming, misunderstanding, and general idiot picture going on here, and then it’s finally ass-kicking time.  I think the titular dragon gets about thirty seconds of total screen time.

I said this was a Maciste movie, but that’s an over-simplification.  American International Pictures had previously distributed a movie called Goliath and the Barbarians (which had Steve Reeves in it!), and it did well enough that they wanted a sequel.  They thus purchased the totally unrelated film The Revenge of Hercules (which does not have Steve Reeves in it, although Mark Forest might kinda look like him if you squint), dubbed over the characters’ names, added a dragon, and crossed their fingers hoping that nobody would notice the whole cast was different.  So while MST3K gave us a couple of Maciste movies turned into Hercules movies, here we have a Hercules movie changed into a Maciste movie.

The plot is rather complicated, with multiple people and gods all conspiracizing at cross-purposes.  The summary I gave above is only about the first half of the movie. A lot of this ends up coming to naught, since the guy whose position seems to be King Eurytus’ Royal Schemer is very bad at scheming.  All his plots seem to consist of ‘just do nothing and they’ll die on their own’.  I guess we’re supposed to cheer on Goliath and Illus through this series of victories on their part, but instead it just feels like a waste of the audience’s time, with no real progress made on either side.  Things don’t really start happening until an oracle gives Goliath a prophecy – but like all Greek prophecies, it’s confusingly worded and just muddles things up further, leading characters to make decisions that undermine their own goals.  It’s kind of a frustrating film to watch.

Even worse, a lot of these plot threads don’t get tied up.  Eurytus has a history with both Goliath’s family and with Thea’s dead parents… what is that all about?  It sounds like it ought to be important but we never find out.  It can’t even be something that was explained in the first movie because the first movie was, remember, completely unrelated.  Illus and Goliath eventually make up but I can’t tell if Illus ever actually realizes that Goliath wasn’t interested in Thea and that the people who told him otherwise were lying.  The whole thing just kind of drops.  Arsinoe has some personal claim on the throne but that’s only described in the vaguest of terms, and the actress playing her looks just like the one playing Dejanira, so that gets confusing.  Goliath knocks down a temple at one point but this never seems to have any consequences, unless the confusing prophecy was the gods’ revenge for that… in which case it was a pretty weak revenge coming from beings known for turning people into trees because of a mild inconvenience.

Was this supposed to be Goliath defying the gods and winning?  It doesn’t seem that way, because things turn out exactly the way the gods prophesized – Illus marries Thea and becomes king, and a woman who loves Goliath dies.  This was all set up from the beginning and the audience saw it coming from a mile away even if Goliath didn’t, and it’s with the help of the wind goddess that Goliath wins the day.  So it seems that even after razing their temple, he’s still their favourite?  What sense does that make?

It doesn’t help that we don’t like any of the characters. The bad guys have no particular personalities besides being evil.  Goliath is kind of a dick who tears down the gods’ statues when their decisions displease him, and ties his grown-ass brother to a tree to keep him from running off to suck face with Thea (in the original, Hercules version of the movie, Illus is his son, which makes it even worse).  Illus is a lovesick whiny dope who spends a lot of time staring into the camera with a vaguely confused expression.

The women, meanwhile, are absolute ciphers, with nothing to do but further the plot.  Thea is here to be pined over and coveted.  Goliath’s wife Dejanira is here to be the subject of the dire prophecy, and Arsinoe exists to provide a loophole in it.  All three are totally bland, as are the two or three little kids who represent Goliath and Dejanira’s children.  Not a single member of the cast has any depth or any redeeming characteristics.

Thank goodness for the monsters.  The creatures in Goliath and the Dragon manage to walk that perfect line between ambition and cheapness where they become downright delightful.  There’s an amazingly silly three-headed fire-breathing dog guarding the gates of hell, hilarious papier-mâché skeletons hanging around in a dungeon, and a guy in a ridiculous bat costume flailing on the end of a string, and that’s just the first ten minutes.  The movie goes on to give us an even worse bear costume than the one in the Lou Ferrigno Hercules, and of course the dragon, which is a combination of a puppet head on a stick and a lousy Claymation dinosaur.  The two do not particularly look like the same creature. Were it not for these beasties the movie would be downright unwatchable.

The real animals here don’t fare as well.  There’s a snake pit, which is pretty standard issue for this kind of movie, and they actually found some fairly large pythons instead of resorting to adorable little corn snakes.  The problem is that if you know anything about snakes, these ones are clearly very stressed by the conditions of the shoot and rather worried about sacrificial victims falling on top of them.  Even worse is Eurytus’ pet elephant, whose job is stomping prisoners to death. Goliath’s stunt double wrestles with what is clearly the real elephant – dangerous for the man, but also bad for the pachyderm, who was just as likely to get injured and far less likely to receive medical care if she was.  The computer-generated animals of modern movies kinda suck, but at least we no longer have to torture real ones on camera!

Since its original title is The Revenge of Hercules, this is obviously a movie about revenge, and it’s a motif throughout the narrative.  One of the gods Goliath serves is the God of Vengeance (in ancient Greece revenge was actually a goddess, Nemesis), and the first heroic task he does in the movie is retrieve the god’s blood diamond (shame on the god – revenge is supposed to be honourable and should therefore rely on only ethically sourced gems!) from the underworld.  Later, when he feels the god has betrayed him, he smashes the diamond and destroys the statue.  Goliath takes revenge on vengeance itself!

Goliath also takes revenge on King Eurytus.  We are told that Eurytus killed Goliath’s parents, and appears to have taken out Thea’s as well, making him a fine target for revenge. We also get some idea that he’s in charge of the dragon that pops up at the beginning and end of the movie and never does much because it wasn’t in the script.  Exactly how this all works, however, is murky, and Goliath never even seems aware that Eurytus’ ultimate plan is to conquer Goliath’s home city of Thebes.  Plenty of cause for revenge, then… but all this backstory is only told to us, not shown.  The audience is thrown into the middle of this situation without really knowing what’s going on, and we never quire recover from it.  There’s no excuse for this, either.  A movie that could afford a three-headed fire-breathing dog could definitely afford a flashback!

Maciste movies and their ilk are usually a lot of fun, and this one has its charms.  Between the stupid monsters and Illus gazing vapidly into the void, there’s plenty of material that Joel and the bots could have worked with.  Goliath and the Dragon isn’t good enough to really enjoy but it’s also not bad enough to hate (even if the animal cruelty leaves a bad taste).  It really could use some riffing to spice it up.

[ajanefantasy]

Book Love part 4 - Gin (Brothers  Book 2)

Gin was the fourth novel in the fantasy world of Dahrè, and second of the Brothers Trilogy. During this journey of writing Gin, I realized that Gin’s book was not going to be the final story of the Brothers. There was the matter of their gaining vengeance for the murder of their parents and that just was not going to fit into two books. But that’s for next time.

Gin took a bit to get settled on a direction, to find exactly who Gin and Torin were. Gin was a complicated fellow who didn’t quite know how to deal with his various control issues, the anger he felt towards his brother, or the abuse Gin lived through as a boy. And Torin, I knew a little bit about him from writing Rum, but he, well, he surprised me. Turned out Torin was not the sort of man to put up with Gin’s shit, which surprised Gin as well. Gin thought Torin’s temperament would match Torin’s physical appearance, soft and fluffy. But Torin took control of the relationship within moments of Gin freeing Torin from the hold of his boat (Gin had kidnapped him as a pirate does when he finds treasure) and boy did Gin like it. He liked it a lot. Gin just didn’t know how to deal with how much he liked it and didn’t always handle it well. He was captain of his own boat, shouldn’t he be the one giving orders? But Gin was helpless against Torin’s orders and well, the feel of Torin’s hard hand against his ass...

Gin’s book was ultimately about family, both found and blood, and what folks do for family. He meets his father’s youngest brother, Rune Stone, as well Rune’s mother, Jasper Stone. Gin’s grandfather, Ethen tyr Vens, makes an appearance. Red Boot’s son, Rigger Boots is a complication, and Rigger’s lad, Gator Boots is found in the middle of nowhere. Plus a few other characters that help make up the beginning of Gin’s crew. And in the middle of all this, he learns a surprising secret about his father and makes an even bigger enemy of the man who tormented him and Rum as children.

-- Fun fact, Gin was originally called Fig Py. But I realized that didn’t sound very piratey and was easily changed except for when it came to a very drunk Rum calling him Figgie Pie.

With all that said:

[Image ID: Image of two, three mast ships, each tied to an island dock, the sky at early morning light, with the word Gin written across it]

Returning to his childhood home, Gin seeks to end the ryn Ferths’ attempts upon his and his brother's lives. Finding his first love in the employ of his enemy, the only thing that matters is stealing away his lost treasure. With his enemy's fortune gone, Torin’s revenge is finally complete. Just as he is about to make his escape, the boy who stole his first kiss reappears in his life, endangering all he worked for. Book Two of The Brothers Trilogy Story contains strong language and explicit sex 110,000 Words

Amazon / Smashwords / Kobo / Apple  / BN

A preview of Gin can be found under the cut.

Gin stared at the angry, disheveled man in the hold cage. After all these years, Torin still held a fascination for him. Even with the indignation in his yiska eyes, the high color in his full cheeks, he found him desirable. The pinch of his lips brought about a sharp want to kiss him again.

“What sort of man have you become, that you would kidnap me and have me placed within the hold of a boat with naught but a chamber pot and rats for company?” Torin crossed his arms over his chest as he stood with as much pride as he could muster after the restless night.

Besides the rats keeping him up, worry over the activities left behind kept his mind full. Had Doshan searched him out at his townhouse to learn of what went on at the docks, especially after he never returned? Had Doshan discovered that the dwelling was mostly vacant with belongings packed and ready for transport? If he had…

“My apologies, love.” Gin opened the hold cage and entered the tiny space, pleased when his treasure stayed his ground. “Never did I mean to cause ye discomfort.” He touched a fallen curl of hair resting upon Torin’s forehead, then brushed the back of his fingers over a stubbly cheek. “I had expected Master Stone to return ye to my cabin, not place ye below deck.”

Torin narrowed his eyes. “What do you want with me? I am no more than…”

“A fine treasure do ye make for many reasons.” He thought he could listen to Torin’s Lyndian brogue for hours, years, forever, and never grow tired of it, despite having grown to hate the rolling R’s and dipping U’s as much as he hated chocolate, but then he had always been contrary. He motioned to the leather case in the corner of the hold cage. “It contains financial papers for the ryn Ferth empire, aye?”

“Yes. So you took me because I hold the knowledge of their accounts and ledgers?”

“Aye. Since rumors abound that all that is ryn Ferth is truly mine, ‘twould seem most prudent to take the one most familiar with it.”

“And the other reasons?” Torin continued to hold his ground, refusing to fear this man before him despite the lack of civility in his eyes. He knew that Kynon…Gin would never hurt him, it was easy to see by the look in his eyes, but his knowledge came by other means. Actually he was uncertain why he asked, other than to make Kynon…Gin confirm his Reading.

Gin stepped up to the other man, palmed his cheeks, and kissed him. He liked that Torin was ever so slightly shorter than he, liking tilting Torin’s face up, even if it was just by half an inch.

Lifting his head, he rubbed his thumbs over the other man’s lips, and smiled. “In need ye are of cleaning yer teeth, love.”

Not knowing what he felt about the kiss, he stayed angry. “Of course I am need of cleaning my teeth, pirate, but stuck I am down in this hold and…”

“Come then, grab yer case, and we shall adjourn to my quarters so that ye may clean them, and if ye desire, ye may bathe as well. ‘Twill not be said that I am an ungracious host.”

“And what of clothing? What of all my belongings?”

Gin brushed his fingers over Torin’s stubbly cheek once more. “All will be well.”

“Naught will be well, especially when Doshan discovers my disappearance. ‘Tis most likely you have ruined everything!” Torin shoved past Kyn…Gin and ascended the ladder out of the hold, his case gripped tightly in his hand. Right outside the captain’s quarters, a large hand pulled him around. Tired of the manhandling, he jerked his arm away with thoughts of bashing whoever it was with his case.

Seeing Ky…Gin, he offered his haughtiest expression. “What is your issue?”

“Why does it matter if Doshan discovers ye gone? Will he worry over the financial knowledge ye hold? For if so, good, ‘tis what he deserves and worse.”

“Because he will destroy my belongings and there are things that I possess that rather would I not see…” Torin closed his eyes and pulled in several deep breaths. “Not that you would care, would you, the selfish bastard that you are?” Before K…Gin could answer, he whipped around and entered the cabin, sending the door flying closed behind him with hopes of hitting the horrible pirate. He cared not if it was undignified to do so.

Gin caught the door and softly closed it behind him, used to dealing with temper displays such as Torin’s—Rum behaved in such a manner at times. “Why would he destroy yer belongings? It makes nae sense to do so, just because ye disappear…”

Then again, mayhap it would be exactly like Doshan to do so; he was the vindictive sort. Still…

“Because already were my belongings packed, ready to be shipped, and never did I tell him I was leaving Lynda, let alone leaving his employ.”

“Where were ye going?”

“If you must know, already did I plan to seek passage from your captain, Golden Boots. A letter I possess of introduction and explanation from Ellis so that he would allow me on board.”

“Already were ye planning to travel to Ganos…with Capt’n Boots?”

“Yes! And now ruined it you have. Ruined everything!”

–

© A. Jane

Book Love:  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

[forthelulzy]

Heaven By Violence: Chapter 7

There are secrets that we still have left to find There have been mysteries from the beginning of time — “The Riddle”, Five For Fighting

Dorian and Tacere were both right: Cullen arrives back not half an hour after they set out, shouting orders to clear a tent for the Herald. He is wild-eyed and out of breath — the withdrawals have not been treating him kindly, especially under so much stress. He looks like he might collapse, so Leliana takes over, forcing him to at least take a seat in the command tent. She sends Mother Giselle his way.

She then rounds up Vivienne and Solas, as well as the surgeon. Cassandra comes in shortly, and Irene is swept off to the tent. “We will be a moment, my dear,” the First Enchanter says, closing the flap in Cassandra’s face. Leliana leads the Seeker back toward the command tent. There is nothing more they can do, except…

“Where did the other two run off to?”

“Tacere and Dorian were right behind us,” Cassandra says, eyes narrowing. “I left them behind, I did not think…”

Then she explains what they came across and Leliana frowns. A possessed wolf? Demons are rarely attracted to animals, as they have little of interest to them. This kind of thing usually only happens when mages force demons to use beasts as hosts. And who is this mysterious stranger? How did he find the Herald?

A shout comes from the perimeter. They’ve returned, and Leliana immediately notices three things.

One, the newcomer and Dorian are in a hushed, if heated discussion, heads bent together. Tacere strolls along beside them, whistling. Two, the other Tevinter mage isn’t dressed oddly. His clothes are so nondescript it could only be a conscious choice. Three, his face is both familiar and foreign, like a memory with a few details subtly changed.

“He told you he and Tacere were extended family?” she murmurs to Cassandra, watching the group approach. At the Seeker’s nod, she continues, “I think I know who our new friend is.”

She strides forward to intercept them. “I understand you saved our Herald and sent up that flare,” she says. He’s wary when confronted, eyes darting everywhere, seeing everything. She moves in for the kill. With a gracious smile, she inclines her head and says, “You must be Caius.”

He flinches, stepping back with one foot as if by reflex, but he stops there. “I am,” he says carefully.

“Your sister-in-law told us about you,” Josephine says from outside the command tent, a few paces away. “It is a pleasure to finally meet.” Dear, sweet Josephine, always trying to make people comfortable.

Caius frowns. “And what exactly did she say?”

“Not much. Merely that she came to the Conclave looking for you.” Josephine doesn’t mention the other part, the part with the patricide. But Josephine has the best face for bluffing of all of them.

He lets out a sigh. “Yes. The Conclave. I was supposed to be there.” He closes his eyes, only a flicker of grief passing over his face — but Leliana sees it, and it is enough. Survivor’s guilt. Maker, she knows it too well. “I would rather not tell that story more than once.”

Leliana nods. “When Irene wakes, then.”

“If only—” he cuts off, shaking his head and rubbing his temples. “I fear I would be more hindrance than help in there. By your leave, then.” He does not actually wait for their leave, and stalks off. Tacere has long since wandered over to the haphazard infirmary to settle by Julien’s side again, and Caius joins him. That leaves only Dorian, who coughs awkwardly and remarks, “Such a strange fellow,” before returning to the Chancellor. Somehow he’s taken responsibility for Roderick, though as far as Leliana knows no one asked him to. It is good that he has someone looking out for him.

Mother Giselle emerges from the tent behind Josephine, shaking her head. She waves Leliana and Cassandra over. “He is troubled, and I do not know how much my words helped. I believe an ear from those who have been by his side far longer than I would be best.”

Leliana nods, glancing at Cassandra. Her faith has been shaken, but the Seeker has clung ever more firmly to the Maker in recent months. Perhaps if Cassandra did most of the talking…

Mercifully, the Seeker seems to understand her glance, and leads the way.

They find Cullen with his head in his hands in the corner of the tent. He hears them come in, and when he looks up he’s free of tears. Good; Leliana would hate to see him cry unless she were the one to prompt it. She hates seeing anyone cry unless she’s the cause. Something like a mix of grief and self-hatred lingers in that honey gaze, though. This can’t just be from finding the Herald, can it? No, she remembers, Cullen was in charge of the defense, and so many were lost at Haven.

“This isn’t about what that mage said to you?” Cassandra says, not unkindly but not gently either. The Seeker doesn’t do gentle.

“Not— not entirely,” Cullen admits, voice rough, “though it is yet another way in which I have failed to protect those I’m supposed to.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He didn’t manage to grab his pomade from Haven, and it’s starting to curl again. “I remember now. He was one of a few apostates caught in the months running up to the Kirkwall Annulment. It didn’t seem— Maker’s breath, it didn’t seem important at the time. We’d brought him in, an apostate from the wilds. There was another, but he escaped. Irene’s husband, must have been. In any case, it was obvious Caius had never been to a Circle before. The only reason he wasn’t made Tranquil, at the height of the madness, was that he made no trouble at all. Kept his head down. He must’ve slipped away in the chaos, but we had no way of knowing for sure. So many died…”

And, according to all accounts, every last phylactery had been destroyed in the Annulment, a fact that made it all too easy for mages who escaped the immediate danger to keep running.

“I… I will speak to him, try to make amends.”

“All right,” Cassandra says. “And before you get it in your head, you were not responsible for what happened at Haven. If anything, you saved many lives with your trebuchets. To think of defense when the rest of us had become complacent in victory… Cullen, it was not your fault. Should you need confirmation, Irene will wake soon. We are still going forward with that, correct?”

The others may miss it in the dimly lit tent, but Leliana swears Cullen’s cheeks, already flushed from his story, darken just a little bit more at the Herald’s name.

***

Leliana leaves the tent; Cassandra had seemed to want to talk with Cullen further, and while the whole conversation was intriguing, Leliana makes the calculated risk to let them have their conversation. If their Commander falls apart, her curiosity will have been for naught.

“We are still going to name Irene Inquisitor, yes?” Josephine says as they walk across to the central firepit. The war table wasn’t saved, and many reports were lost, but what they do have now that wasn’t there an hour ago is hope. Now, Leliana knows, they will have the luxury of arguing again. She almost looks forward to it. That is, if Cullen can muster the will to argue. He is her favorite person to roll her eyes at, after all. His more idiotic moments are almost funny. And his lack of finesse is legendary.

“I hope so,” Leliana says. “I would have hoped for someone less like a charging bull, but she’s shown a surprising amount of adaptability to her role as Herald.”

“She’s smarter than any of us give her credit for, it’s true. I do wonder how she would fare at the Game, given a little training. She won’t like it but— ah?”

At Julien’s bedside, Caius and Tacere have been talking, but then the Tevinter leaps up and storms away toward the edge of camp. Leliana almost follows him, but he stops within sight, staring out into the snow with his arms crossed.

“He asked, but he did not want to hear,” Tacere says softly, and when Leliana looks at him the elf is staring back, amber eyes glowing in the encroaching dark. He tilts his head, so much like a crow that Leliana wonders where her own are now. She sent them away at the first sign of attack, but they have yet to return. “How must it feel to be dead? Could anyone alive survive it?”

She deals in riddles but does not have the patience to figure out what that means right now; it is enough of a challenge with Cole — and just because Leliana has yet to see the spirit after the attack does not mean he isn’t here, too. “Will there be a problem?” she asks instead.

Tacere looks away, stares at Caius’ back for a long moment. His hand is on Julien’s, stroking circles into the templar’s palm. It has been many days since Irene found him at Therinfal, and he still hasn’t woken. “He is afraid, and grieving in his own way,” Tacere says finally. “Hmm. Is not the whole world afraid, in one way or another? But he has never taken uncertainty well. Much like Irene, he is best when there is a problem to solve, and being told the problem is gone… No, Sister. He will make no trouble. Oh, he will posture, but he is ultimately harmless to anyone but himself.”

“Is that so?”

“Blood sacrifice? Demons?” Tacere smiles again, too wide. “Ah, ah. Despair has been hunting him for years now. He has not broken. Too much pride, though that one has yet to notice. Dear Sister, sweet Sister, the hounds are too concerned with racing each other to notice that the fox has his own teeth.”

Leliana pauses, but Tacere does not drop the smile. “You’ll forgive me if I need to ask him myself,” she murmurs.

Tacere dips into an elegant bow fit for court — while still seated — and blows her a kiss.

Something strange is going on here, and it bothers her that all of her efforts into digging up Irene’s past missed this. The murder was the biggest one, but that her brother-in-law was alive the whole time — she would have liked to know that. Irene never asked her to find Caius, apparently believing him dead. She turns away and approaches him, slipping into her old habits as she does so. She makes no sound, of that she is sure, but before she can hail him he sighs and lets his arms drop to his sides. He doesn’t turn, but speaks lowly if clearly into the dusk.

“What do you want now, Tac? I need — why? Why would they do that?” His voice cracks on the question, and he hugs himself against the chill.

“Do what?” Leliana asks, keeping her voice neutral, soft.

Caius still startles, whirling around with lightning crackling in his palms. He recognizes her, though, and the sparks dissipate. “Maker, don’t do that. You sound just like Tac when he’s trying to sneak up on me.”

“I wasn’t aware I sounded like anything.”

He scoffs. “He said the exact same thing the first time I caught him. But with a lot more pouting. Stupid sneaky types…” He continues mumbling under his breath, before cutting off and turning sharp blue eyes to her. “What do you want?”

“A lot of things,” she says easily. “From you, though? I want to know if you’re a threat.”

She’s expecting him to shrug off her query, as many have before — mage or not — but he shakes his head and grumbles, “Of course I am. I’m not intending to be, but the fact is… I am. You know that.”

Leliana cocks her head. “For being a mage?” She’s not about to blame him for that.

“For being—” Caius waves a hand to indicate himself, “—being a person. Particularly a noble one. We do tend to run roughshod over the commoners, but no one’s clamoring to lock up all the bluebloods.” He crosses his arms, twisting his lips like he’s just bitten into rancid meat. “I know exactly what you mean, though. Yes, I could potentially become possessed at any moment. I could go to sleep and wake up with glowing eyes and murderous intent. It’s been that way for a long time. Julien promised to kill me, years ago. I would hope any one of you would do the same.”

“Even Cullen?”

His eyes drop to the snow between them, expression darkening. “Even he. Perhaps I have been unfair, but my grudges are living things that I have fed for so long I have become attached to them. Do not ask me to forgive just yet, not when—” He cuts off, rubs the bridge of his nose in a gesture that reminds her of Cullen at his most aggravated.

She waits. He wants to tell her, she knows it.

Finally he shakes his head violently and grinds out, “The Tranquil are dead. All of them.”

She can’t stop her gasp, the words like a blow to the sternum. “All of them?”

“Every last one. Tac said the Venatori killed them — the ones who made it to Redcliffe, not left to die by the rebel mages when they left the Circles. They’re using their skulls in some kind of ritual.” His voice gets rougher as he continues, “Tac found a house full of them. Rows and rows of skulls on shelves. They’re dead.” He draws in a ragged breath, shakes his head again. “Do not ask me to forgive. Not now.”

She nods, but her mind is already whirling with this new puzzle. What could this ritual be for? She needs to know as soon as possible— but her crows are all gone. They’ll find her soon enough, no matter where she is.

“I wish to stay and help, though,” Caius says slowly. “I don’t like being scrutinized, but I do understand the reasoning behind it.”

“Unfortunately, it is not my decision to make.” Leliana does not say that it will be Irene’s, that all their hopes are pinned on the woman currently fighting for her life in a tent a short distance away. She thinks back on what the Herald said about her husband and brother-in-law. “I would like to know the story surrounding your exile, though.”

Caius huffs. “Oh, is that all?” Bitter sarcasm laces his voice. “Not even Irene knows those details. Colm hates— hated talking about it and so do I.”

She narrows her eyes. “You know I can easily find out the truth myself.”

“Oh, I doubt you’ll find even half the truth. And not easily. The Imperium thrives on lies.” Caius stands his ground, staring her down. “If my inclusion in this… Inquisition depends upon it, then I may share the relevant facts. But then, that’s not your decision to make.”

Her mask almost slips, damn the man. Her faith has been shaken again, this time in herself. She failed to recognize a threat until it was at their door. In any other circumstance she would have a subtle warning or witty retort ready, she thinks, but she is tired, too tired to continue this. Regardless, she will be watching.

Nothing will escape her notice again.

***

Cullen and Cassandra return from their heart-to-heart, the Seeker finally as tired as the rest of them and the Commander looking better than he has since before the attack. It is a temporary boost at best.

They group on the far side of the fire, near the tent where the Herald is still fighting. The faint hum of healing spells, and the glow that flickers through the thin hide walls, tell them that. Vivienne and Solas snipe at each other, but the mere fact that they are speaking at all is a sign Irene is getting better. Leliana sighs, shuffles the precious few reports she managed to save. So much was lost. So many were lost. But they have her.

She sweeps her gaze over the camp. To the left, the open-air cots with Julien and Roderick. They are both there because there is nothing left for the healers to do. Roderick will die soon — it is incredible that he hasn’t yet, perhaps a testament to the man’s stubbornness — and Julien, she is told, just has to wake up. The healers found no traces of red lyrium in him, but there was the infection, and possibly head trauma. It is a waiting game, at this point, to find out.

Straight ahead, a few of the myriad members of their bedraggled Inquisition have gathered around the fire. Varric is sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, listening with half an ear to Sera rant about… something. Whatever it is, she’s animated about it, waving her arms around and occasionally wiping at her runny nose. “Stupid, stupid daft tit, thinking she could just—” is the extent of what drifts over to Leliana, before Sera cuts off and presses the heels of her palms to her eyes, rubbing furiously. Varric nods and rests his chin on his knees, staring into the fire. He says something to the elf, but Leliana can’t catch it.

Mother Giselle crosses from the right, where she has been speaking to a few of the soldiers, to Chancellor Roderick’s bedside, and Leliana knows. Flissa approaches as well, steps shy, and draws Dorian away while Mother Giselle gives the last comforts to Roderick. Leliana had heard the Vint had rescued a citizen, but hadn’t thought to ask who. Dorian rises higher in her esteem.

“The Chancellor is dead,” she murmurs to no one. Cullen sighs and rubs his nose.

Vivienne chooses that moment to sweep aside the flap, stare imperiously at the advisors, and declare, “The Herald is stable.”

“Her injuries…?” Josephine asks.

“She will keep her nose, but the scarring will be extensive. Full range of movement should return within the week. She will fight again.”

Vivienne moves away from the tent, presumably off to find rest, robe-dress swishing around her legs. Cullen starts forward, pauses, glances back. Leliana rolls her eyes and moves ahead of him, ducking into the tent without preamble. Dear Maker, the man is about as subtle as a druffalo.

Within, Irene lies prone on the cot. The surgeon is in the corner, gathering her tools and putting them away. Solas is busy arranging the blankets around and over Irene, careful not to brush over the neatly-stitched gash on her chest. It is maybe a handspan from end to end, and the flesh that is sewn together is pink, new. The elf casts a spell under her when he is done, the marks glowing crimson then fading to barely visible. A warming rune. After how close Irene came to freezing to death…

The jagged patch of scar tissue on the Herald’s cheek has changed color: no longer blue and black on the edges but a dark red that will eventually fade to match the rest of her skin, with time. She is still pale, but not alarmingly so. Her nose, crooked and ill-healed from some injury long before they met, is at least whole. Thank the Maker for victories large and small.

The surgeon leaves quietly, and the others file in, circling Irene. Solas glances at them, tilting his head. “I put her under a spell to keep her from thrashing while we worked on her wounds. I can remove it and wake her. It will have no ill effect on her recovery.”

Leliana nods, and Solas snaps his fingers before leaving as well.

It is a moment before anything happens, but then Irene groans and shifts, tossing her head. She moves to feel her chest, but Josephine grabs her hand and holds it gently while Leliana leans forward and says, “Herald?”

Irene’s eyes snap open and she jolts up, dislodging the furs and nearly headbutting the Spymaster. “Shit, shit!” she gasps, jerking her hand out of Josephine’s grip and running it through her sweat-soaked hair. Then she lifts the other and stares at the mark. Her shoulders tremble.

“It’s not… I thought I was dead,” she whispers, voice cracking and breaking like ice beneath their feet. Twisting her head, she fixes Cassandra with an almost pitying look. “The throne of the gods was empty.”

“Pardon?” Cullen says, even as Leliana shifts around to half-kneel on the cot and grip Irene by her shoulders. She doesn’t shake them, but her touch seems to ground Irene, who closes her mouth and takes a deep breath through her nose. “Herald. Irene. What happened down there? Who is the Elder One?”

Exhaling, Irene begins her tale.

[jerseydeanne]

DM comments Best of Part 2

Best part 2 New698 gammagirl80, london, United Kingdom, 8 hours ago Before she went public with Harry MM had been shown in interviews multiple times talking about her father in a positive light (antidotes, stories, memories, etc). If she’s harbored such resentment since childhood or even early adulthood she wouldn’t have talked about him at all. The isolation from her father (and other friends) appears to have started in 2016. (Replies) New1842798 LittleMsJones, Villefranche, France, 7 hours ago Exactly, it’s because she didn’t want those around her to let it slip who she was and her salacious past. She can’t hide forever, it’s only a matter of time before the real truth comes out and the RF kick her to the kerb. New46649

Rowan, Imladris, 7 hours ago In 2017 she was still pushing this daddy’s girl narrative. The fallout only started after he realised he was about to be cut off after not receiving a wedding invitation. New26589 Sfm001, Wolves, United Kingdom, 7 hours ago She mad her father is risking her meal ticket nothing more. She has no reason not to call her father and not talk about anything other than how they both are. New22415 JS, Somerset, United Kingdom, 7 hours ago She does not want daddy telling the truth about her age or past to Harry. New30468 Heresathought, Southwest, United States, 7 hours ago She was just trying to fool everyone…making it look like she cared so Harry would not think less of her. Now that she is married he is history. New18397 Babe, In Belgium, 7 hours ago My parents did awful things when I was young. However it’s not something I usually mention to people whose business it is not. In fact I find that most people just can’t comprehend what narcissus are capable of so it s better not to mention it. Narcissus are best ignored. Any attention you give them encourages them. Tom and Sam being a case in point. Nothing will shut them up ever. MM is not at fault here. I am sure Hurry was well aware of the situation. New299125 LoveThisLife, Southeast Seashore U.S., United States, 7 hours ago Yes. Started in 2016. So she would not lose Harry. Very convenient timing! New18370 chanceska , No Where Near , United States, 6 hours ago Babe. I totally understand that. But I’ve never fawned over my narcissist family members in public or on social media, like Megan did, either. So she was either lying before about how great her dad was, or she’s lying now. New16386 Curlylocks, Northern Virginia, United States, 6 hours ago It sounds like he was the custodial parent who paid for most of her schooling. That alone should have earned him some measure of gratitude. Surely she can talk to him without telling him anything important. New11303 Korova Milk Bar, Somewhere, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago Babe, I’m sorry that you had a rough upbringing. THat makes you empathetic to others that you think are in the same situation as you, feeling the same way as you. I think you are projecting a lot of your own experiences onto Meghan and this debacle. Bottom line, we dont’ know what Meghan’s situation really is, we can only go off how she professed great love and admiration for her father for years until she married Harry. Combine this with her history of dumping people and dogs that can’t get her ahead, and I can assure you, the sole problem is not Thomas Markle. I think Meghan brings her fair share to this mess as well. New18267 sam my, Westworld, Togo, 6 hours ago But, she was a Daddies girl all those years, and now all of a sudden she can’t be bothered…. any father would be hurt by this treatment. He is only going to the outlet available to him, the media. Was Doria ever mentioned on Tig? New16383 Myrtile, london, 6 hours ago chanceska, either way, she’s a liar. New16238 sweetsexything, vancouver, Canada, 5 hours ago We totally understand the whole story! Meghan presents herself as loving daughter to the media. And now, she’s bagged the gold, Meghans manipulative, liar, fake face comes out - “he is better dead” It would have been easier if Meghan is truth to herself… but she lies. She alyways lies! Everything about her are all lies. New17234 sweetsexything, vancouver, Canada, 5 hours ago My favourite lies are “I didn’t know much about the Royal Family” lol. Is she kidding us? She was always in and out of London thus it says she knows Britain cultures. What about the “I’ don’t want to be a lady that lunches” Lol. Meghan who presents herself as hardworking is not working anymore.“ He isvery sexist, always talking about women as if they are pieces of meat.” And yet Meghan shows up at Craig’s interview and acts like she is a piece of meat “touch me! I’m really hairless” New17271 Iseult, North Coast NI, United Kingdom, 4 hours ago Most people aren’t stupid enough to be fooled by this latest version of the Meghan/father relationship. The truth is she was praising him for all sorts of things until she met Harry, then he was cut out of her life, no more mention of being a Daddy’s girl, something she’d said she was in an interview that’s still on YouTube. Some people want to help her rewrite the narrative, but anyone with a grain of sense can see the timing of when she decided to dump him and her other relatives, including those who’d helped her in the past. Harry is a complete fool not to be able to see this for himself, or maybe he’s such a snob he really wants to persuade people she has no family of her own so he doesn’t have to meet them. How the two of them ever thought they’d get away with a twisted untrue version of events that’s flatly contradicted by every word she uttered about her father in the past I don’t know. Harry really has sunk lower than I could ever have imagined possible. New9153 Lauren, Australia, 3 hours ago Agree, just shows how much cr-p she is full of. New10147 PATRICIA, memphis, United States, 3 hours ago @gammagirl… “antidotes”?, don’t you mean “anecdotes”?

New654 Sam, Denver CO, 8 hours ago The only person I feel sorry for in all this drama is the Queen. She does not deserve this. (Replies) New2192355 D63, Greenville, United States, 8 hours ago True, but she could have put a stop to it, or at least insisted Harry and MeAgain live a private life. New23587 purplevalues, South East, United Kingdom, 7 hours ago I think it would be up to Charles to insist that Harry and Meghan take a back seat role. I don’t think he will do that, as it would be tantamount to admitting that we don’t actually NEED minor royals to cut ribbons at all. New10261 Babe, In Belgium, 7 hours ago Words can’t express how pathetic this comment is… You feel sorry for the Queen. Presumptuous Much?! Lady Di, Fergie, Charles & Camilla…. The RF is a shambles and you think the Queen has naught to do with It? She rules that household like Maggi Thatcher. Every royal house of Europe has passed the torch to the next heir…. Except England. New66159 JS, Somerset, United Kingdom, 7 hours ago Did our queen really take tea with an ex convict? was Doria not vetted by security services beforehand? New24263 zip it44, Markham, Canada, 7 hours ago Then the Queen should do something about this. Quick. New10219 neolang, London, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago The Queen is praised for not being too open with her views and forceful against people she may find unpleasant.t She tries not to interfere too often in drama or political issues. When she does make a comment, it’s usually very concise but passionate such as when she described the Manchester attack as “wicked” but left it as that. New4104 Tiny CO2, Warrington, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago The Queen might be cross but she doesn’t need sympathy. And no, it’s none of her business so she shouldn’t interfere. After all, few can know more about how the press operates. Most people have no idea that this is going on and even more don’t care. New1160 Monalisa Oak, London, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago She had suffered for almost sixteen years from 1981 to 1997 by certain unpredictable new comer to Ryal Family blaming them - the members of RF - and pretending to be a victim before she disappeared overnight. Now another episode has just begun, I do feel for 92 years old lady, though I am a royalist. New1974 sam my, Westworld, Togo, 6 hours ago The queen is the ultimate power in that family, sure she is old, but still has them in line. Look how they act around her to see that. She should have insisted that Harry and Meg live quiet lives, but they wanted to rebrand themselves as the new Humanitarians, and now this fiasco is going on, and will for years it seems. New12293 Myrtile, london, 6 hours ago The Queen might have left the throne to her heir like other regents but Charles is not really someone you want as King. New45177 Tuneful, Silver Spring MD, United States, 4 hours ago I hope he (PC) is growing a pair, because this is out of control. It appears he has asked that she leave one party early so far. He better reign in her out-of-control spending and those expensive jaunts abroad every week or two. No matter how much they try to sell her, people aren’t buying. New8139 WeAreAmused, Venice, United States, 4 hours ago Markles taking potshots at one another across the Atlantic is as pointless as the original “Guns of August” leading up to WWI. If KP/BP doesn’t defuse this soon, it’s going to be just as unpredictably destructive for all the parties involved. Where are the adults in the room? New677 cindymae, blairsville US, United States, 3 hours ago The Queen approved it" New523 LightDweller, Bournemouth, United Kingdom, 3 hours ago The Queen agreed to this mess. She has poor judgement. New990 The View From Here, Gold Coast, Australia, 3 hours ago JS….The Queen has taken tea with more ex convicts and dubious characters than you’ve had hot dinners. Mugabe, Assad and Tony Blair for a start. New762 ToTheMoon79, New York, United States, 1 hour ago She allowed this! New222 Janet Mayhem, LA, United States, 11 minutes ago The Queen can end all of this whenever she pleases.

New00 melissa612, Minneapolis, United States, 8 hours ago She doesn’t want him talking to the press but it’s ok if she does? Pot? Meet kettle. (Replies) New3372231 ThatChickYouDontLike, NY, United States, 8 hours ago She didn’t say anything , DM made up a source as usual and you fall for the lie as usual. New236228 LittleMsJones, Villefranche, France, 8 hours ago No, she just got her friends to. New69271 ThatChickYouDontLike, NY, United States, 8 hours ago I’m honestly not going to debate the stupidity of believing anything published by the DM. They have consistently proven themselves to be reporting fabrication, let’s not forget the wedding dress etc, yet people still think that THIS paper is the bastion of truth and ethical reporting. New74154 Betterworld22, Somewhere, United States, 7 hours ago Who believes this BS from a “source” I thought the dm said Meghan does not have any friends. Give it a rest. I bet with Meghan and Harry on holiday the dm will have a lot of information from their imaginary sources. Got to keep the haters satisfied. New8698 Nomdeplume, melbourne, 7 hours ago Honestly, I am no fan but why do people believe a story that has ‘source’ or a 'close friend’ in the story and then blah blah blah for the rest of the story. New47129 silverlight, Bristol, United Kingdom, 7 hours ago She said it because it’s the only thing she can say if she wants to salvage even a shred of her tawdry reputation. New36195 teadream, taipei, Taiwan, 7 hours ago DM said so. She doesn’t say anything. New5852 Tiny CO2, Warrington, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago 'blathering’ is an odd word for an anonymous friend of American Meghan to attribute to her. It can’t be… it can’t be made up could it? Or just repeating gossip from a friend of a friend of someone who spoke to her once? New2050 Monalisa Oak, London, United Kingdom, 6 hours ago Low life family joining British Royal Family to bring down the monarchy soon. New1283 pianochick86, LA, United States, 6 hours ago Her “friends” can also blab to the media all they want as long as they flatter her and kiss her behind. New12154 sam my, Westworld, Togo, 6 hours ago Does anyone know how the so called media in the UK works? You are not allowed to malign the RF, they can shut you down! So this article is with KP and BP approval. COUNT ON IT. Is how they guage their popularity from month to month. It is about perception, not reality, I have been saying this for months about this so called royal family. New20120 Augusta T Bigfoot, Louisiana, United States, 5 hours ago Meghan used her father’s Hollywood connections to get in to the business and then dumped after she nabbed Harry. By the way her father was a gaffer not a gafter. Little research DM New20166 Blue, Here, 5 hours ago Sammy, there have been countless articles and books over the years maligning the RF. They weren’t shut down or bumped off. People seem to have strange ideas about the supposed power of the royals. New1941 MOR, Jackson, United States, 4 hours ago The “friends” here are obviously Palace PR. New339 It matters, Dublin, Ireland, 3 hours ago This is a deliberate press 'leak’ from the palace aimed at damage limitation. New6116 T Time, London, United Kingdom, 3 hours ago People will believe anything when they don’t like the person in question. I’ve noticed that a lot with DM commenters

[onebizarrekai]

(Dreamswap) Another Outcome

In which things change.

(Somewhere in the Justice Reigns castle…)

Nightmare: … so, I guess this is it, huh?

Nightmare: Finally getting what you want, brother? My death?

Dream: Shut up. You should be glad that you’re allowed to speak at all. Don’t make me take that away.

Nightmare: That is odd, I must say. You’d think that listening to me talk would make you want to kill me less.

Nightmare: That’s why you’re mad all the time. Trying to shove it on me and make me be mad right back at you, so you want to hate me more. It’s just a trick.

(Dream shoves Nightmare up into the middle of some kind of complicated mechanism with many parts.)

Dream: I will silence you.

Nightmare: Like a cell phone?

Nightmare: Pft. Good luck, angel boy.

Nightmare: The hell is this thing? Some kinda fate splitter? I mean, I’d certainly assume so.

(Dream walks over to some kind of control panel.)

Dream: I have no reason to answer any questions.

(The room falls silent as Dream sets up whatever machine it is. Nightmare stands there, unable to move in his restraints, anyway.)

Nightmare: … Dream.

(Dream doesn’t respond.)

Nightmare: If this really is it…

Nightmare: Don’t you dare f#%k it up, you hear me?

Dream: What?

Nightmare: Go create your ideal multiverse, or whatever.

Nightmare: I will be pissed beyond belief if this doesn’t mean anything, and I think it’s easy to see why.

Nightmare: I’ll give you a painful death by haunting and drag you down to hell with me.

(Dream stops for a moment, then smiles.)

Dream: I assure you, that will not be necessary.

(Dream presses a button on the control panel and several machine parts move in on Nightmare at once, some locking him in place.)

Dream: Sweet dreams, dear brother.

(Nightmare hears Dream say this before his head begins to feel inexplicably foggy and numb as he passes out.)

(Nightmare feels consciousness return to him after who knows how long. He doesn’t know why… something in him feels very… empty and strange, something seems to be missing.)

(No, that’s not it.)

(Something seems to be getting taken out and something else getting put in its place.)

(He’s paralyzed, unable to even open his eyes. Was he even still alive? He felt like he was still stuck in that machine, maybe…)

(A voice nearby.)

(“Come on, almost.”)

(“Everything is going as expected.”)

(It’s definitely Dream’s voice. Maybe he is still alive after all…? Why?)

(The more time passes, the more drained he feels. What is Dream doing? Is this machine even supposed to kill Nightmare, or maybe…)

(Nightmare feels an imaginary sensation of something clicking into place inside him. He feels utterly empty, dead inside, stuck in this darkness behind closed eyes, and something foreign is trying to familiarize itself with his body.)

(… no, not his body.)

(His spirit…?)

(Suddenly, he is no longer frozen in place. His hands start to claw and shake, his body twitching where it can still move…)

(He still cannot speak. No sound is coming out.)

(Whatever just got thrown into his spirit feels like it’s shaping itself into him, filling in every corner. It’s not physically painful… it’s just… extremely uncomfortable.)

(But, as this continues on, it actually stops, and soon enough, it had shifted from bring uncomfortable to being comforting. His hands drop, his body stops twitching.)

(He feels warmer inside than he ever has in his life.)

(He manages to get a sound to leave his mouth.)

Nightmare: … Dream…

(He utters, and suddenly all restraints on him vanish and he falls forward, right into arms waiting to catch him, consciousness drifting away again almost immediately.)

Dream: I can’t sense the negative energy anymore…

Dream: It… worked…

(He looks down at his unconscious brother.)

Dream: … Night.

Dream: It worked. It worked!

Dream: And…

Dream: You’re still alive…

(He easily scoops up his smaller brother and carries him out of the room.)

(Nightmare wakes up in a bed.)

Nightmare: … What happened…

(He glances around the room, incredibly confused.)

(So… he wasn’t dead?)

Nightmare: What the hell is going on here…?

(He stops and shifts to internal focus, noticing that something seems a bit weird. He feels all warm and fuzzy. His generic bitterness seems… absent.)

(On the end of the bed is Dream bent over from a seat, sleeping on his arms.)

Nightmare: Dream?

(Dream jolts awake, sitting back up straight immediately.)

Dream: Well. I. I suppose I dozed off?

(Nightmare gives Dream a blatantly perplexed look.)

Dream: Um…

Dream: There are… some things to be discussed.

Nightmare: No s#%t.

Dream: … I couldn’t do it.

Nightmare: Kill me?

Dream: So… let me start from the beginning.

Dream: I dedicated copious research into discovering another solution.

Dream: There were a number of suggestions and hypothesis from those who were willing to support me, and ultimately, a plan was formulated surrounding something we weren’t even entirely sure would work.

Dream: But… anything was better.

Nightmare: Go on?

Dream: I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could extract the negative energy from your spirit without eliminating you along with it.

Dream: But of course, nothing would hold it together without it.

Dream: So… I had the energy replaced with another.

Nightmare: You… turned me into a positive spirit…?

Nightmare: Just like…

Dream: Like me.

(Nightmare sits there, taking it in.)

Nightmare: How am I the same…?

Dream: Well, put it this way. Our spirits have been fused with our bodies, and we developed personalities afterwards. Prior to that… we were just compositions of pure energy.

Nightmare: …

Nightmare: Why didn’t you tell me…?

Dream: …

Dream: I was afraid.

Nightmare: Afraid of telling me that you don’t want to kill me anymore? Dude, that makes literally zero sense.

Nightmare: I mean, honestly, I am kind of pissed. You like, changed my entire magical structure because of something you want and didn’t even tell me about it.

Dream: … okay, I actually think I could give rational responses to everything you just said, but I’m feeling too unbelievably emotional to actually do it. I can answer those questions later when I’m internally calm.

Nightmare: … all right then, a more practical question. If your spirit is supposed to be a representation of all the positive energy in the multiverse, where the heck could you find enough to make another?

Dream: Well… let’s just say that everything I’ve been doing hasn’t been for naught.

Nightmare: Holy s#%t. How does that even work?

Nightmare: You haven’t been making more positive energy, you’ve just been destroying the negative stuff!

Dream: Do you even pay attention to things? That’s not all we do and it never has been.

Dream: You were probably just too caught up in the fact that you were the mortal enemy of this organization.

Nightmare: Rightfully so.

Nightmare: Oh yeah, by the way. Where the heck did you stick my friends and literally let me see them right now.

Dream: You could just ask like a normal person.

Nightmare: Dude. They probably think I’m dead!

Nightmare: Unless you freakin explained this to them and not me.

Dream: … you know what perhaps that is a good idea.

Ink: uuUUUGH, are they done yet?

Ink: Why did I get stuck on watch for you guys? I’m not even a fricking guard.

Error: Shut the hell up. Cross is in shock.

Cross: he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead, oh god he’s dead--

Ink: News flash, I don’t feel. No s#%ts given.

Error: That’s ironic. I thought that would make you feel less inclined to b#tch about this.

Error: I bet you’re just salty about getting replaced and witnessing that replacement.

Ink: Don’t even go there, Glasses.

(They hear footsteps off in a distance.)

Ink: Oh s#%t, whaddap. I think that’s the boss.

Error: That’s definitely more than one pair of footsteps.

(Ink’s eyes widen as the steps get closer, but Cross and Error can’t see the reason why.)

Dream: Ink, go upstairs.

(Ink’s brow furrows and he walks past Dream, glancing back as he does so.)

(Dream turns his attention to Cross and Error in the prison.)

Dream: There is… something you need to be made aware of…

Cross: You… YOU F#%KING MURDERER--

(Cross lunges at the bars, but freezes in place as Nightmare walks into his vision.)

Nightmare: Uh… yeah, I’m alive.

Cross: HHH

Cross: FFF????

Cross: WHAT

Cross: (incoherent confused swearing)

Nightmare: Cross--

Nightmare: Stop. Listen.

(Cross grips the bars, looking down.)

Cross: Let me out of here… Please…

Cross: Nightmare…

Nightmare: …

Dream: …

Nightmare: Say you won’t strangle my brother.

Cross: That asshole… is screwing with my mind on PURPOSE!

Nightmare: CROSS. Stop. Everything is going to be explained.

(Cross looks up at Nightmare, tears running nonstop down his face.)

Cross: …

Cross: Nightmare…? Your eyes…?

Cross: … Why are they yellow?

Cross: What did he do to you?!

(Nightmare stands there, giving an impatient look. Cross stops, staring at him with wide eyes.)

Cross: What did he turn you into…?

Nightmare: I’ll tell you. You just have to calm down.

Cross: I am calm.

Nightmare: No you’re not.

(Nightmare reaches through the bars and takes Cross’s hand.)

Nightmare: Everything is all right.

(Cross stands silently for a moment.)

Cross: … he did do something to you…

Cross: I recognize this.

(Dream unlocks the door and Cross immediately barges out. He pushes Dream out of the way and hugs Nightmare.)

Cross: But… it’s still you. I thought I was going to lose you forever.

(During their little moment, Error turns to Dream.)

Error: So what exactly happened?

Error: And why couldn’t you have told us?

Error: I had to listen to an hour and a half of Ink whining because of this and I swore more times in that timespan than I have in my entire life that I can remember.

(Dream sighs.)

Dream: … Come upstairs. I’ll explain what happened.

Cross: Okay I literally do not understand most of this shindig but basically you just took your own blinded perspective and changed Nightmare against his will because of it?

(Dream lowkey growls.)

Dream: Why do you always find something to be angry about?

Dream: My brother is alive and one would think you’d be more appreciative of that.

Dream: He hasn’t changed. His spirit just has a different composition of energy.

Cross: He has changed! He’s giving off positive aura now!

Dream: And that’s bad why…?

Cross: Because it’s like YOU, obviously! It’s that unnatural thing that’s way too easy to recognize!

Nightmare: Yes, but I’m NOT him.

(Nightmare pulls Cross up close.)

Nightmare: When the heck am I ever letting my aura work freely, anyway?

Cross: Yeah, but…

Dream: What are you whispering about?

Nightmare: None of your business.

Nightmare: Cross, I’m just saying that this might be significantly helpful, just in a very different way.

Nightmare: I’m still the same, so stop being a bitter prick about it.

Cross: (displeased groaning)

(Nightmare turns back to Dream.)

Nightmare: So, what are you gonna do now? Charge me for required services?

Dream: Are you joking?

Nightmare: Depends on the answer.

Dream: No, of course I’m not charging you. I’m not evil.

(Cross frowns deeply.)

Cross: If you’re not evil, then apologize for the s#%t you put us through on a regular basis.

Cross: We didn’t even do anything wrong and your freak organization was hunting us down nonstop.

Dream: …

(He steadily exhales.)

Dream: … That time is past now.

Dream: You… have my deepest apologies.

(Cross lets out a huff of air.)

Dream: This doesn’t mean my personal opinion of you has changed though.

Cross: Pff, yeah. Likewise.

Everyone: …

Error: ……… can we go home now?

Error: I like… left a game on…

Dream: Oh. That reminds me.

Dream: Do you plan to tell me where you live now?

Dream: It’s not like you have any reason to conceal your location anymore.

Nightmare: This soon?

Nightmare: Hate to break it to you, but after this long of being hunted by you, I don’t think I’m mentally prepared to open up at all.

Nightmare: Besides. I think you should figure it out yourself.

Dream: I already figured it out like three times and you kept changing your address. I’ve had just about enough of ‘figuring it out’.

Nightmare: Exactly. It should be a cinch the fourth time.

(Cross snickers at the displeased expression on Dream’s face.)

Nightmare: And let’s not forget something important, angel boy.

Nightmare: Just because you’re not after me anymore doesn’t mean that I’m not opposed to your work and organization. I still disagree with the majority of your perspectives, and no amount of angsty family moments could change that.

Dream: … I understand.

Dream: I guess not everything can go my way.

(He lets out a sigh, stands up, then takes a deep breath.)

Dream: INK.

Dream: I know you’re standing bitterly over there.

(Off in a distance, Ink is leaning on the wall next to the door.)

Ink: Tch. Yeah, so what?

Dream: Unless you want to be severely reprimanded, I order you to accompany us as we go to a room where these three are able to leave, and when we arrive there, I fully expect you to be prepared to apologize for your behavior.

Ink: What?! I didn’t even do anything!

Dream: You were being a whiny little b#tch during that job I gave you.

(The meme squad blinks, all thinking the exact same thing.)

(“Holy frick, Dream swore.”)

(Cross grins.)

Cross: Man you’re in trouble…

Dream: You should be relieved that I’m giving you a few minutes of preparation to come to terms with your mistakes.

Dream: We’re heading out.

(Dream walks past Ink, soon followed by Nightmare, Cross and Error. Ink lets out a disgruntled growl as Error smirks at him.)

Ink: F@#k off, Glasses.

(Dream turns his head, shooting Ink a glare. Ink looks away, still petulant, but afraid to make Dream any angrier.)

(They shortly arrive in a room with some kind of panel in the wall. Dream walks over to it and turns it on. It asks for a password, which he promptly inputs with one hand on a nearby keypad. The trio watches as the words ‘inner security temporarily lifted’ appear on the screen.)

Dream: There. You’ll briefly be able to use your AU traveling powers in this room.

Nightmare: Damn, I always wondered what that stupid thing was for.

Dream: Now, Ink. Is there something you want to say?


Ink: Not particularly.

Dream: Don’t sass me.

Nightmare: (mocking tone) Yeah, Ink. Say you’re sorry.

Dream: Nightmare, don’t make this worse.

Nightmare: I make everything worse.

Cross: (nodding) It’s true.

Ink: Okay, fine. Whatever. I’m sorry for being a whiny little b#tch earlier. You guys were having a hard time.

Error: He’s not actually sorry.

Nightmare: No, he’s not.

Ink: Leave me alone!

(Ink runs out of the room, and Dream rolls his eyes.)

(Nightmare and Cross look over at Error, who understands and opens a portal.)

Dream: … I suppose I’ll be seeing you three around.

Nightmare: I suppose you will.

(Nightmare turns to his companions.)

Nightmare: Hey, guys. Wait for me a minute.

(Cross and Error look at each other and shrug, then go through the portal.)

Dream: … what is it–

(Nightmare runs forward and hugs Dream.)

Nightmare: … this is weird.

Nightmare: Really, really weird. Let’s just say this wasn’t the outcome I was expecting.

Nightmare: And I’m feeling a lot of weird things.

Nightmare: But, I…

(Dream hugs him back.)

Nightmare: Uh…

Nightmare: Never mind… I got nothing.

(Dream smiles.)

Dream: An ‘I love you’?


Nightmare: Hah. Hell no, not yet.

(Nightmare lets go.)

Nightmare: I, uh… I need to go now.

(He turns around and runs through the portal. It closes behind him.)

(Dream had barely caught a glimpse of the tears beginning to run down Nightmare’s face as he had turned.)

(He had never seen Nightmare cry before.)

Dream: …

(Dream closes his eyes, wondering what exactly… would come from all this. It would certainly be interesting to find out.)

(He turns around, entering the hallway again.)

[rax-writes]

Title: Torn and Frayed Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Jonathan Byers x Reader Word Count: 1,845 Warnings: None Notes: Request from anon for “Something for Jonathan from Stranger Things? Reader is an artist and Jonathan takes his pictures. Reader has a huge thing for Jonathan. They are always drawing him and sometimes they don’t even notice they are. One day Jonathan notices and reader tried to cover up the drawing but he sees it. And ahh fluff and maybe they meet up again like at his place because he forgot his camera”

There are certain people in this world who seem to have been made just so that they could come into your life. They are the ones who share your interests and passions; the ones who never fail to make you feel comfortable and loved. You had only ever known one such person – a young man by the name of Jonathan Byers. And from the very first day you met him, you were invariably thankful for him.

You hadn’t intended to fall in love with him. In fact, you didn’t even want to. Jonathan was your best friend, and you wanted it to remain that way – nothing more, nothing less. However, in hindsight, falling in love with him was the easiest, yet most monumental, thing that you had ever done.

Jonathan understood your love for drawing, as it mirrored his love of photography. He never thought it was stupid that you would occasionally come to school with a large cup of coffee in hand, and dark circles beneath bloodshot eyes, simply because an idea had struck you in the middle of the night, and you just had to draw it. He only gave you a pitying smile, and half-heartedly chided you for not getting a decent amount of sleep. And he never stared at you like you were crazy for abruptly telling him to stop the car, because you saw a beautiful scene that compelled you to draw. He always did as you bade him, often taking a few photos of it himself.

It only made sense that your sketches began to drift away from strangers and scenery – to images of Jonathan.

He became the only thing that you had any interest in drawing. And, since you were vehemently against allowing yourself to fall for him, regardless of how inevitable it was – you simply stopped drawing altogether.

Not allowing Jonathan to take up all the space in your sketchbook was not enough to quell your feelings for him. So, you slowly began to distance yourself from him, spending less and less time with him, until it became where the only time you saw him was during class. You knew that it bothered him, and that it wasn’t fair to him, but you weren’t about to ruin the best friendship you’d ever had on some stupid crush that you were certain would disappear.

But days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, and your love for Jonathan remained. If anything, it only became stronger, spurred on by your desperation to be with him. You knew that you were only making you both miserable – you could see it on his face every time you turned down an invitation to spend time with him, and you could feel it in your heart each time that heartbroken look crossed his features.

You were up late one night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as you lamented on all these factors. Would it be best to just resume your friendship, and keep your feelings hidden? Or would that ultimately become too much for you to bear, resulting in you ruining your friendship? What if you were to focus all your romantic attention on someone else? Would that help your feelings for Jonathan go away?

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard a faint tapping against your bedroom window. You were on the first floor, so it wasn’t exactly a feat for someone to be outside room, but it was nearly midnight – why would someone be there?

Brandishing the only weapon you had – a small pocket knife – you flung open the curtains, only to be met with the hesitant face of Jonathan Byers.

“What the hell are you doing?” you hissed, but nevertheless, unlocked and opened the window for him.

Jonathan wordlessly climbed into your room, before taking a seat at your desk, which sat against the wall opposite from your bed. The way he moved about the room with ease showed how many times this had occurred – him sneaking into your room via the window, in the dead of night, and sitting with you – but it had been months since this had last happened. And something about the way his shoulders hung, and the pained expression on his face, told you that that was precisely the reasoning behind his visit.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

The words hit you like a truck as you took a seat on your bed, facing him. Jonathan had never been one for bluntness; he tended to beat around the bush for a bit before arriving at his point. You could tell from his direct question that he had been preparing himself to ask it for a while.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied – then realized it was for naught, because he always knew when you were lying. He said that you tucked your hair behind your ear before every lie – and he was absolutely right.

“Bullshit,” Jonathan retorted, and the mixture of hurt and anger was evident in his voice. “You’re not even drawing anymore, and you’ve been avoiding me for nearly three months now. A thousand times, I’ve thought about anything I could have possibly done to upset you this bad, but I can’t come up with anything. You’re treating me like I’ve done something terrible to you, but you won’t even tell me what it is I’ve done.”

“That’s because you haven’t done anything,” you said softly, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, you fiddled with the frayed end of the blanket on your bed. He said nothing, clearly waiting for you to elaborate – but no more words would come to you. You couldn’t tell him that you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore, because that would be a blatant lie – nor could you tell him the truth.

“Then just tell me what’s wrong with you, Y/N!” Jonathan said, his tone rising in pitch with clear exasperation. As he often did when aggravated, one hand flailed out, managing to knock a few things off of your cluttered desk. He exhaled slowly, calming himself, then bent to pick everything up.

You felt your heart stop when you realized that one of the items he had knocked over was your sketchbook, and it fell open to one of the pages that contained numerous sketches of him.

“Jonathan, wait –” you began, but he had already picked up the book, and he froze when he saw what was clearly various drawings of himself on the page before him. Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself entirely unable to move.

As Jonathan began to flip through the pages of your sketchbook, revealing page after page of him – everything from his face, his eyes, his lips, his hands, to his damn shoes – you remained motionless, frozen by fear. He only stopped when he reached the blank pages, and he continued to stare at those blank pages for what felt like an eternity before he looked up at you.

“Why are there so many drawings of me in here? You used to never draw me – you said that you hated drawing people that you know.”

“I… I was, uh… practicing portraits. My art teacher told me that I needed to practice portraits,” you managed to stammer out, and you immediately realized that it was the worst lie you had ever told. Jonathan realized this too, and he didn’t look the least bit convinced.

“Why have you been drawing me, Y/N?” he repeated, his tone soft and tentative. You attempted to come up with another, more convincing lie, but not a single thing came to mind.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you, alright? You happy?” you blurted out, the bitterness of your defeat making your voice harsher than you intended. “That’s why I was drawing you, and that’s why I started avoiding you. I thought that if I steered clear of you, I’d stop loving you, but I haven’t.”

“You… you’re in love with me?”

“Yes, now you can leave and never speak to me again, because I know that you don’t feel the same way. So, go on – leave,” you spat, crossing your arms to hide your heartbreak with anger.

Jonathan only sat there, staring at you for a few moments before slowly rising from his seat, and coming to sit next to you on the bed. You couldn’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, because you knew what was coming next: a forced lecture about how he’s sorry that he doesn’t feel that way about you, but you’re a great person, and he’s just not the one for you. And this would undoubtedly be followed by a series of horribly awkward encounters throughout the remainder of your friendship, as both of you tried, and failed, to ignore the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him.

Instead, however, Jonathan cupped your face in his hands, before pulling you into a kiss.

Yet again, paralyzed with shock, you froze – but that didn’t last long. You were quick to recover, your hands falling upon his upper arms, and pulling him close to you. The kiss began slow and hesitant, as neither of you were certain that this was what the other had wanted. Although, it didn’t take long for the both of you to deepen the kiss. His hands lightly traveled from your face, down your back, to rest on your waist, as your arms wound around his neck.

After a brief eternity, you broke the kiss in an attempt to get air – and you smiled with Jonathan’s lips momentarily chased yours, indicating that he was just as reluctant to end the kiss as you were. He settled for resting his forehead against yours, and both of you relaxed with your eyes closed, breathed heavily as you calmed from the high of the kiss.

“So… I take it that means you might sort of like me back?” you inquired, your tone lighthearted despite the fact that you wanted a serious answer. Jonathan’s response to your confession of love insinuated that your feelings were requited – but you needed to actually hear him say it.

Jonathan let out a light, breathy laugh, before nodding.

“I’m in love with you, too, Y/N,” he affirmed. “I have been since… well, I think since the day I met you. But I never thought for a second that it was even possible for you to feel the same way, so I never did anything about it.”

“Well, for someone so smart, you were pretty damn wrong about that,” you teased, earning a laugh from him.

“I guess you’re right,” Jonathan admitted, smiling at you, which you reciprocated.

The two of you sat like that for a few blissful minutes, simply smiling at one another, before Jonathan cleared his throat and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“So, uh… can I kiss you again?” Jonathan inquired, his voice timid, as if there were some nonexistent chance that you’d say no. His bashful demeanor brought a bright smile to your lips.

“Absolutely.”

@v-writings @emmcfrxst @skywalkingdixon

[mintchocolateleaves]

Law Unto Themselves (2/??)

Summary: An AU in which the Gosho Boys are the criminals, the B.O members are police officers and everyone’s alignments have changed.

[Beginning]    

The art of good business, is being a good middleman.

It’s bringing people together, talking them into deals they would have never thought to accept before sitting down on the other side of the table. It’s manipulating a situation until there’s no doubt that it’s beneficial to the leader, it’s being a good talker.

Above all else, that’s what Kudo Shinichi is: a good middleman.

According to his many… associates… he’s the best in the business. He’s got the temperament for it – he’s calm when he’s forced to stare down the barrel of a gun, is apathetic at the sight of dead bodies. He doesn’t enjoy it, not the way some of his other members do. His eyes don’t reflect the flash of muzzle shots, but they don’t contain disgust either.

He’s sat in the back of a car, waiting for Hattori to climb in beside him, as soon as he’s finished his phone call to the correct authorities. For a police officer – soon to be police inspector, Shinichi believes – he’s quite good at ignoring the rules.

Despite his best interests, Shinichi’s fond of the Osakan, has come to think of him as his best friend. It’s amusing, seeing as business like this isn’t focused around friendships, just results, but well – he’s known Hattori since he was a teenager playing at being a detective.

The door opens, and Hattori Heiji slumps into the seat beside him, nodding towards the driver in the front, an indication for him to drive. Shinichi thinks it’s horribly cliched, sitting in the back when he’d much rather be driving, but well, if any cameras pick the car up at the scene, he doesn’t want anyone to zoom in and see his face driving.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Shinichi says, as the car rolls into motion, rejoining the main road. He glances over his friend, watches as the man runs a hand through his hair – Hattori’s been tired recently, he’s almost in half the mind to give the Osakan time off from all of the illegal operations they have to oversee.

“Expectin’ what?” Hattori asks, and he rubs the tiredness from his eyes, smothering a yawn. He’d been alert inside the warehouse, has practically had it ingrained into him not to let a single fact go out of his notice, but now that they’re sat in the car he’s lowered his guard.

Shinichi would scold him for it, if he didn’t have trust in Hattori’s ability to flip the switch between alert and off-guard at any time. Or maybe it’s his fondness that keeps him from treating Hattori like his other underlings, because if it was anyone else letting their guard down for even a second, he’d call them out on it…

“Pisco,” Shinichi says, turning to look out of the window. He leans his cheek against the palm of his hand as he stares out at street lamps, the lights burning against his eyes. They’ll be dropped around the back of the police station, in the CCTV cameras’ blind spots, where they’ll then make their way back inside and down to the car park in the basement floor.

Hattori hums, and while he’s not openly saying anything about it, Shinichi knows that he’s going to spend time thinking about it. Hattori’s always been like that, he knows, has been quiet when it comes to thinking about the darker elements of their job and maybe there had been a time when the motion had seemed suspicious, but not any more.

“It was weird tha’ an old man like tha’ was able to sneak inside…” Hattori says, after a while, and Shinichi resists a small smile. His lips curl upwards anyway, and he tries to smother it, but ultimately, he fails. Each trip to warehouses, removing the lids from weapons, is the same – none of it ever changes.

Pisco’s appearance… well, while it hadn’t got his blood pumping, while he’d still been as collected as ever, it had been a little interesting. It’s not often that Shinichi’s work provides him with something out of his expectations, something that doesn’t fit within the carefully orchestrated plan he’s thrown together, chess pieces set awaiting checkmate, but sometimes…

“It is interesting,” Shinichi says, drumming his other hand against his knee. “I wasn’t aware that he was actively seeking us out.”

Hattori hums again, and he pulls out his mobile from his jacket pocket. Unlike Shinichi, who has two – one for ‘work’ and the other for his personal life – he’s only got the one. Not that it really matters, he doesn’t need to hide any phone numbers, not when he’s constantly working by Shinichi’s side. The light from the screen illuminates his skin as he unlocks the phone. From the way his shoulders relax, uncoiling from the previous tension, it’s obvious that the text is from his fiancée, Toyama Kazuha.

“We should probably look into him,” Shinichi continues, although his words are fairly empty. They’ve been looking into Pisco for years, but just hadn’t found it necessary to kill him from what he’d known. Maybe they should’ve, maybe Shinichi has been too lenient because he hadn’t thought that Pisco was any closer to moving in on them.

“You want me ta get a guy inside his house to get th’ disk Gin was talkin’ 'bout?” Hattori asks, turning. The sound of him shifting forces Shinichi to glance over at him as well, offering his 'friendliest smile’. When he’s not wearing the mask of neighbourhood police investigator, his expressions always come off as distant, faraway.

“Kuroba’s already on it,” Shinichi says, and he ignores the way Hattori’s nose scrunches at the mention, forces himself not to chastise him on a conversation they’ve had several times before, “we’re done for the night.”

Hattori nods, glances back down to his phone and smiles. Shinichi feels almost tempted to ask, but there are some things he can’t ask when they’re in the company of other organisation members. Not when they already talk about favouritism – God, if Shinichi even hears rumours about playing favourites again, he might just shoot someone.

“Good,” Hattori says, “and the weapons, they’re headin’ to Osaka?”

The expression he receives is nothing short of chilling. Hattori’s expression shifts from its usual calm, to sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. He says, “it’s just my father’s runnin’ a new system on random searches comin’ off th’ Daini Hanna toll road, Otaki-han told me when he phoned earlier.”

Shinichi’s lips form a tight line as he turns away. For a moment he has to smother the hot resentment that twists inside his lungs at the mention of Hattori’s father.

Hattori Heizo – Shinichi grits his teeth at the thought of the man. When it comes to making sure his transactions with Osakan gangs run smoothly, the superintendent always makes things difficult on Shinichi’s end.

First it had been with the placing of undercover police by the pier. Then it had escalated to searches of vehicles in which Shinichi had been forced to persuade three of his men not to tell the police anything when they’d received prison sentences.

All terribly frustrating. And now he’s creating another policy that Shinichi’s going to have to counteract. If it wasn’t so fucking aggravating, Shinichi would thank the man for giving him something to actually think about. It’s about as interesting as his job seems to get these days.

(There is a lot Shinichi would do for his job to stop being boring. Criminal activity is about as listless as paperwork when you do it enough. There’s no noticeable thrill to it any more, no adrenaline – he’s too desensitised to weapon and drug trades.)

“You could have said before we sent them off,” Shinichi sighs as the car stops outside the station. “Send me what you know, and I’ll talk to the driver about it on my way home.”

He steps out of the car, smooths the creases from his suit and suppresses the urge to slam the door behind him. So maybe he’s a little angrier than he’d have expected, but he’d spent his shift collecting statements instead of solving murders, and then he’d had to attend an arms trade with complete, utter, morons. And now, now, the entire deal might be for naught.

Hattori trails after him as they make their way across the street, falling into step beside him as they stride toward the precinct car park. He’s quiet for a moment, and then, the Osakan opens his mouth, and attempt to explain, “listen I-”

Shinichi turns to him, raises a hand and stops him before he can start. “No, you listen Hattori. You’re one of my closest friends, but if you forgetting to tell me about your father costs me 7 million yen, I will have to use you to send a fucking message to everyone else. You understand?”

Hattori doesn’t even falter in his walk, keeps moving as if he’d known. Maybe he does know, maybe that’s why he’s so calm whenever Shinichi has to be stern, act like a boss rather than a friend.

“I get it,” Hattori says, when they start down the ramp. “But if you do, just don’t make it too noticeable, I don’t want Kazuha or Chi to notice.”

Shinichi pauses, supposes that it sounds fair enough and offers a nod. He wouldn’t want any of his fellow police officers to notice anyway, so it’s not like he can really afford to make any injuries noticeable. Plus – the idea of Hattori having to return home to his family and lie about how he’d been injured…

Kazuha, well – she’d understand. Hattori’s a police officer, it’d be unrealistic not to expect him to come home completely unbloodied all the time. But their daughter…

He hopes it doesn’t show in his expression how uneasy the idea leaves him.

“If you send me the information, then we won’t even need to worry about the locality of your wounds now will we,” Shinichi says, crossing his arms over his chest. They split off from one another when they reach the middle of the car park, heading towards their separate cars. “If you want to make things up to me either way though, you’ll present me with coffee in the morning.”

The drive home takes longer than he’d expected.

He hits traffic when he’s halfway, and his usual ten minute drive home is almost doubled. Five minutes of his time is stuck on the phone explaining countermeasures to the idiots driving the weapons into Osaka, and Shinichi’s pretty certain that they’ve got a higher chance of getting the firearms into the city unnoticed.

The other fifteen minutes is spent wondering how exactly he’s going to deal with the next shipment he’s going to oversee. He considers calling one of his better associates to formulate a plan, but since the shipment doesn’t arrive for another nine days, he decides he can play it by ear until later.

“Ugh,” Shinichi says, as he’s forced – again – to stop at a traffic light that’s turned red. He retrieves his phone from the dashboard, unlocking it and pressing onto his contacts. Then, he scrolls down, eyes searching for a name. It doesn’t take long.

Shinichi presses call, places his phone back on the dashboard, and he waits for the call to connect.

The phone rings four times before he gets an answer.

“Did you know,” comes the voice from the other side of his phone, “that most employers leave their workers to do their job, instead of checking in on them every few minutes?”

He clicks his tongue, the sound echoing through his speakers. From anyone else, Shinichi wouldn’t take the disrespect, but with the skill set Kuroba Kaito brings to their team, it’s almost comes hand-in-hand.

“I realised I hadn’t guessed today,” Shinichi says after a moment, as if he hasn’t been itching to know what’s on the disc Gin had asked after. He can hear the rustling of leaves as Kuroba pushes through a hedge, the sound of branches scraping against the side of his phone. “You know, about why you decided to become a member of this organisation?”

Kuroba lets out a short laugh on the other side. It’s quiet, but it echoes through the speaker. He says, “I already told you why. It’s not my fault you don’t believe me.”

Shinichi pulls away from the lights, moves the car into gear and groans. He says, “you think I’d believe you joined just because of a gemstone?”

There is a tittering sound from the other side of the phone. Like laughter, but not quite – it’s too mocking to be laughter. It’s something else, a malformed version of amusement that seems almost akin to a snicker, malevolent but not cruel.

“Not just any gemstone. The gemstone.” Kuroba says, and Shinichi bites into his tongue. “Do you really need to ask questions about my motives right now?”

Shinichi flicks his left indicator on, sighs. “I suppose not. How far are you from Pisco’s place?”

“About ten metres from his window.”

It’s probably best not to overthink the fact that he’d never given Kuroba the address belonging to Pisco. It’s one of the good things about the man; he’s efficient. He works tricks that take time to unravel, and there’s nothing impossible that he can’t put into practise – well, within reason of course.

“Burn the building down after you’re done.” Shinichi says, “mechanical failure of one of the plug sockets or something. Faulty electric lead.”

He can practically see the grin from the trickster. Kuroba says, “is it my birthday?”

Shinichi rolls his eyes. Turns right into his driveway. Through the light of one of his windows, he can see Ran, moving around in the kitchen – making tea, he realises, as she waits up for him.

“Just get it done.” He says, ignoring the light cackle that bursts from the other man’s throat. “When you find the disc, mail the contents to me.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” Kuroba says, hanging up before Shinichi can say anything else.

Pocketing his phone, Shinichi unbuckles his seatbelt. Leans his arm down to unlatch the door. There’s an almost uncertain feeling blooming in him, as he wonders what exactly is on the files, and how much Pisco had known.

[Next Chapter]

[metaphysicalpistolsoraclemine]

13:20 FREQUENCY SHIFT

Taming the Mind

Lack of Mind Training – The Number One Problem on the Planet Today

In consideration of the lack of peace in the world as well as the general confusion in human relations, the moral chaos that pervades society, and the uncertainty and emotional instability that plague virtually every human on Earth today, there is no question that the number one problem affecting the planet is the human inability to control the mind.

Where does war begin? In a thought the mind could not control. If everyone on Earth truly practiced mindfulness, there would be no war.

The problem of controlling the thoughts generated by the mind is compounded by immersion in the cybersphere and industrial society in general.

Just consider this: How many hours a week do you spend in front of your computer screen – surfing the internet, writing e-mails, or any other business, data processing task, graphic work or writing you may be doing on the computer? 10-15 hours, maybe more.

How many hours do you spend in front of the television screen watching regular programming or by playing video games every week? Another 10-15 hours?

How many hours watching a feature length video or movie per week ? Maybe 6 to 8 hours? How many hours driving your motor vehicle each week?

Depending upon where you work, maybe another 10-20 hours. Take an honest inventory and tally that up? Anywhere from 30 to 50 hours a week is probably average.

That’s how much time a week you are placing your mind in the control of a machine or a machine dominated process.

Better put, that is how much time a week the mental screen of your mind is controlled by what appears on a monitor screen – or the windshield of your motor vehicle. This is not to mention the people whose jobs are dominated by the computer – and that is a rapidly increasing number.

Humans at the bank, the check-out counters of stores, data and information processing work stations, etc., are all chained, as it were, to the computer. So the number of hours the average human spends with a virtual reality mental screen replacing his or her natural mental screen is enormous.

The point isn’t to demonstrate how much time we are dominated by the machine (though it is instructive to actually become conscious of this), but to consider, by contrast: How many hours a week do you consciously spend in front of your own mental screen, your natural mind? Probably very few, if any, hours are spent simply sitting with your natural mind.

Most humans are so immersed in the unconsciousness of their own mind and its control by their ego that they scarcely have a clue of what is actually real and what is just conditioned made up ideas in their heads. Impacted by the effects of the cybersphere, the number of humans not in touch with their natural mind is staggering, especially when you consider the spiraling “hopelessness” of the problems we seem to be generating and are immersed in.

Connected with not knowing the thought waves of the mind is ignorance about the nature of the ego. This is why I declare unequivocally: the number one problem facing the planet today is the human species inability to control, much less know, the nature of its own mind.

How can you expect to solve a problem when you do not have a grasp of the nature of your mind, the very same mind that created the problem in the first place, and then perpetuates it by unexamined ignorance?

If the mind is the root and source of everything we know as well as all of our perceptions of our self and the world, and we readily allow it to be enslaved by the screen of virtual or machine dominated reality for a preponderant number of our waking hours, doesn’t the mind also deserve to be refreshed by the experience of its own natural state?

In fact, if the number one problem on the planet today is human mental ignorance, the ultimate solution is mindfulness training. It is not that cyberspace and the machine are necessarily the cause, so much as it is that intense use and even addiction to these tools covers up the mind to such a degree, that most people do not know the first thing about their natural state of mind much less that it exists.

Of course, the impact of the cybersphere on the mind can be labeled the ultimate effect of the 12:60 artificial timing frequency on human consciousness. Nonetheless, we still must identify and unburden ourselves of this effect, and the experience in general of having deviated from natural mind, just as we have deviated from natural time.

In speaking of these matters it should be made clear that no human community is exempt. The New Time, New Thought or New Age communities suffer as much from the lack of mindfulness training as does virtually every other community on Earth.

I have thought seriously about this matter for the past few years, and after having intensively renewed my own discipline in mindfulness training – what you might call Zen style meditation – I have come to the inescapable conclusion that unless we all come to terms with our natural mind, our efforts at establishing a new time of peace will come to naught.

How to Practice Awakening Natural Mind

Natural Mind is the ordinary state of mind when it is totally relaxed and not thinking about anything.

The practice for awakening natural mind is extraordinarily simple. It is the most human form and experience you can have. It is the repository of natural dignity as well. And anyone can do it. You just have to sit still.

The natural way is to sit on the floor, on a cushion that is firm, supports the erect back, and that allows one to sit cross-legged. On the floor, on a cushion like this is most preferable and most natural. But if that is not possible due to your health and/or body condition, then sit on a chair with feet firmly on the floor and back erect, not leaning on the back of the chair.

Holding the spine erect is already waking up and staying awake. The chin is just slightly down and the eyes are half-open looking down the tip of the nose to the floor. The eyes are open to avoid falling asleep or going into fantasy realms, which occurs all too easily when the eyes are closed.

The point is not to escape from reality but to see and experience the natural mind without acting on it. The hands are comfortably on the knees, palms down. Holding this is the natural posture of the alert human being.

Keep checking your posture as you sit. You want the spine to be erect, holding you up. The capacity to do this is what distinguishes the human from virtually every other animal. Don’t slouch!

Now, in this position, you have nothing to do but watch your breath. Breathe normally. You will become immediately aware of your thoughts. As you become aware of your thoughts – it matters not the least the nature or content of the thought – just label it “thinking,” and as you exhale, dissolve the thought.

At that very moment before exhaling and just as the thought is dissolved, lies the “gap” between the thoughts. It is this gap you are going to want to become familiar with and cultivate. It is the seed of natural mind and the key to your true, authentic self.

Try doing this for half an hour, for 45 minutes, or even an hour. You have to realize that just holding this position, no matter what is occurring in your mind, you are peace.

You are dissolving unexamined thought impulses to do things while remaining in a position that is thoroughly non-aggressive.

Imagine everyone on the planet doing this for one hour each morning before they start their day. Wouldn’t the world then be at peace?

The importance of holding this position cannot be emphasized enough. It is 99 per cent of this practice of experiencing your natural mind, because it is really the only way that you are going to be able to experience your natural mind – and nothing else.

And if you do not know what natural mind is, you cannot really say you are in natural time.

Excerpt from Rinri Project Newsletter III, Mystery of the Stone Edition, Volume 1, No. 3

13:20 FREQUENCY SHIFT