#i mean it came from out of nowhere grieving but it's so bizarre

[the-acid-pear]

Mental illness is insane I'm just having dinner w my father eating this a little too spicy pasta enjoying the Yeowch on my throat and the silence and suddenly I'm like yeah I'd kill myself.

[wingz-of-shit]

Nowhere to grieve

I messed up but here was the ask by anon: Hello there... I'm broken. 139.. it just wasn't right at all. Is it selfish that I wanted levihan? All the signs are there (plane, "heart" and all) but it doesn't feel like a proper goodbye? Do you have Levi HC after the war? But before the three years skip? Good day

*

Hmm, hi anon. If you expected me to fix that heart of yours, well you're mistaken. I love angsty HC. And that chapter 139 certainly helped with the writer's block. And this is why I put this together for you. Brace yourself.

Nowhere to grieve

Summary: Armin helps Levi cope with his grief after the war

Words: 1200

Armin looked over his shoulder at the man that once stood as humanity's strongest. He was now wheeling himself toward the mess hall, painfully aware of the physical condition he was in. As commander of the corps, Armin found out that the job didn't only mean leading soldiers into battles like he might have thought at the beginning of his career; it also meant caring and worrying for them. The former commander certainly taught him so. For all the years Hange Zoe had been commander, Armin had never worried about being left alone. He had found a family. A bizarre one, but still. A family. And now the eldest member of this family was in pain.

"Did Heichou eat today?" Armin asked Jean. The latest shook his head looking equally worried. "He refused. Says he's not hungry."

"Understandable."

Understandable indeed. Ymir's curse had been broken for less than a month, and a month was not enough at all to grieve decades' worth of dead people. Armin had checked the records and felt sick when the Titan War's number of victims came out. There were many citizens alright, most of them were from Shiganshina, all those years ago. But the ones who had suffered the most were the survey corps.

Shinzou wo sasageyo.

"What can we do?" Jean asked.

"Find out the reason he's like this?" Armin mumbled, although, he knew the reason why his Heichou was acting this way. He'd seen the fleeting looks between his two superiors, he'd seen the closeness. Hange Zoe, former Commander, was the reason his Captain had not recovered yet.

When Armin was chosen as the next commander, he had considered it as a promotion, or a pride. But then, in the small time that was a month, he'd understood that no one should endure the job of Commander. It all stood on mental strength. Which one of them would be the last to break? Which one of them was the most likely to think with their brain and not their heart? Which one of them was ready to die for the cause?

"I think I know what to do." Armin hesitantly walked towards his Captain, well to his subordinate, and laid a hand on his shoulder. Never before had he had such an intimate touch for the man who jerked away at the intrusion.

"Arlert." His icy gaze pierced his soul and all confidence was shattered away. "The fuck you want?"

"I'd like to show you something." He gestured at the wheelchair's handles. "May I?" Levi nodded his head suspiciously. Armin focused on his breathing and began to calmly talk.

"I know you don't agree with how things were done. Many don't. But I don't think there was a right way to ever end this war. You may say there were other options but if you consider each one of them it always seems to lead to a massacre. We've tried talking with Marley before. Hange San tried to do that. It led to betrayal. It led to where we stand today. Captain... I don't know if this can be any comfort but those who are dead were probably meant to be. It's thanks to their faith, to their sacrifice that the war ended at last. And it hurts, I'm not pretending to know half of your grief but I still lost many friends in this battle. And I rather think of them with a proud smile. Look at us: it's finally over and- "

"Tch." Armin looked at Levi surprised. "Sounds like a happy ending to you." He turned around in the wheelchair. "I knew you more intelligent than that Arlert."

A happy ending? A fucking happy ending? How could this ever be a happy ending. "Look, I'm trying to see the best of what's left. It's not easy but I have hope. And hope will lead this world to brighter days, I'm sure. If I lose hope then yes, the battle will be truly lost." Armin walked at a faster pace towards the cemetery. "I lost my best friend, I lost so many people I cared for... The come out of this war is not a happy ending. It's sad and we're alive. But do we have to make this life a nightmare? Can't we just pretend that...it's going to be okay, and maybe it's even worth it?"

There was a long silence then. Only the quivering of leaves in the wind filled the space. It waltzed over the grassy road and rushed to the large area covered in white crosses far away. The military cemetery.

"They would have wanted for us to be happy. She would have." Armin added carefully; he watched closely as a shiver shook Levi's body at the mention of the pronoun.

"What are we even doing here?" Levi asked when they reached the cemetery. He could see the skepticism in his eyes. Levi hadn't visited the cemetery once since they came back. He hadn't come to the ceremony where they said every single name of their fallen comrades.

"It's time for a little prayer Captain."

"A prayer?" He paused startled. "Do I really have to?"

"Yes, Captain. Let's find a tombstone." Now Armin could see the hurt in his eyes.

"Is this a joke? She's not here, remember?" His voice was cold and bitter, but it was mainly grief that Armin heard.

"We're going to pretend. And they're all together anyway, what difference does it make?"

He strolled through the white crosses. "It's nice to say goodbye. It's important. "Here, these are nice. I'll leave you alone to it."

Levi stared in disbelief at Arlert's back as he was hastily walking away. Had he really brought him here? And asked him to say goodbye? To whom? To her? He looked back at the white cross, the name on it echoed in his mind. He'd known this person, a soldier that died on their very first expedition years ago.

They're all together anyway.

Levi rolled his eye. He was actually going to talk to the cross. He closed his eye and let the vision he forced away every night fill his mind. And there she was, smiling brightly at him after nearly having her head bitten off by Sawney or Bean or whatever fucking titan. And then he could see her riding fiercely ahead of him to the ocean. And then he could feel the warmth of her skin when they were away from gazes. He could hear her voice in all its mood: happiness, grief, anguish, love. And then he could see the sparks surrounding her form and engulfing her in the flames of eternal rest.

"I miss you. He paused

I had a dream about you the other night... you know that cabin in the forest? It was warm.

And..." Levi stopped talking, the lump in his throat had grown too overwhelming. Stupid Arlert. This was his fault.

The way back to the SC's building was shorter than Levi had expected, his mind was filled with memories. Could he have the life they all fought for? Could it have meaning without them? Her?

Shinzou wo sasageyo.

He'd try. For them. For her.

Right then the wind rose again and ruffled his hair in a familiar way. Levi looked around, he was sure he had felt her. May it be a ghost or a spirit, she was looking over him.

*

*

Who wants to cry with me now?

Update: I saw this post and it's kinda the same vibe haha, check it out too.

[tanikawrites]

A Very Merry Bollywood Romance: My Personal Favourites

I'm not going to say 'there's nothing like it' merely on account of the fact that I grew up immersed in watching hours upon hours of Bollywood fantasies, but rather because I can say with hand on heart that there's something about Indian cinema that really knows how to make you feel. I don't whether it's the oozing charisma and genuity of the actors; how passions and flavour is woven into every detail and gesture; whether it's the fact that your screen explodes with unapologetic culture and colour, or the way the music surges through you like wine through water. True, it can be ridiculously cheesy (to the point where I've even had to leave the room for cringing), but when it comes to mixing serendipity with the sensuous to equate with an experience of heart-rendering love, then honestly; nowhere but India can do finer.

This admittedly comes a little late after Valentine's day, however I was inspired to collab together some of my favourite Bollywood romances of all time (or at least the last twenty-two years) to share in the hopes of inspiring your next Netflix binge if you feel the itch to dive into something different (and better) than your usual rom-com agenda.

Khabi Khushi Khabie Gham (Through Smiles or Through Tears, 2001)

'If you want to be something in life, want to get something in life, or want to win something in life, then listen to your heart always. And if you don’t get any answer from your heart, then close your eyes; think of your mother and father's names, and see how you will reach your destiny, overcome all your hurdles. Victory will be yours. Only yours.'

 You'd be hard pressed to find anyone in India who hasn't heard of this iconic number, this being India's answer to a cult classic like our own Bridget Jones or Notting Hill. Karan Johar's infamous blockbuster is a millennial Bollywood icon, and if you don't find yourself soaked in your own tears at least five times during the three-hour duration, then I would duly recommend getting your eye-ducts checked. And your conscience.

 Khabi Khushi Khabie Gham (or KKKG as it is also affectionately known) is first on this list as it is as quintessentially Bollywood perhaps as it gets: entourages of lavish dance sequences and ornate cinematography, all the while underlined with emotional questions surrounding obligations not only to one's culture and home but moreover to one's self. It concerns the consequences of when Rahul (Shah Rukh Khan), adopted son of wealthy businessman Yash Raichand (Amitabh Bachchan), dares to forsake the perfectly selected match his father has picked for him for that of the exuberant Anjali (Kajol) from the lower-class sphere of Chandni Chowk. His choice in prioritising love over tradition and duty creates a fracture in the family dynamic over a span of ten years, this only finally being addressed when his younger brother Rohan (Hrithik Roshan) chooses to repair his broken family and reunite a dedicated mother (Jaya Bachchan) with her favourite son.

 KKKG is one of my first choices whenever introducing newcomers to Bollywood as it would be difficult to find much to complain about with it. Yes it has its cheesy moments and a lot of the humour might require some cultural know-how, yet the comedy in question is so perfectly scripted that it doesn't detriment the moments of extreme emotionality - on the contrary, it positively amplifies it. I have additionally always had a soft spot for Anjali and Rahul as their relationship understandingly matures given the circumstances of their union, especially given Rahul's decision to move their small sect of their family out of India entirely. Regardless they still remain hilariously argumentative and flirtatious the whole way through, their more traditional relationship being paralleled through the younger and more westernised dynamic between Rohan and Anjali's younger sister, Pooja (Kareena Kapoor). The film is a package deal for all the emotions and a bonanza of some of the best acting talent in the industry, the love story being not just between one man and woman but towards one's home and family.

 BEST SONG: Title Track

Mohabbatein (Love Stories, 2000)

'Love is like life; it's not always easy and it does not always bring you happiness, but if we do not stop living, then why should we stop loving?'

Now, Mohabbatein has a far more lavish layer of cheese slathered across it than the predecessor on the list, but that may be more down to how the cast is comprised of a camaraderie of newcomers alongside more the more accomplished acting masters. Mohabbatein is the story of three students who each fall in love whilst studying at the prestigious all-male college Gurukul under the lense of the strict headmaster Narayan Shankar (Amitabh Bachchan) - his most iron-clad rule bizarrely being that no-one is to pursue romantic relationships whilst under his roof for risk of immediate expulsion. Whilst all hope seems lost then for these horny *ahem* love-struck adolescents, enter the charismatic and emphatically romantic music teacher Raj Malhotra (Shah Rukh Khan). His presence at first seems innocent enough in his encouragement for the boys to nurture their affections as Robin Williams encouraged his own students in the pursuit of poetry, especially as it soon comes to light that Raj's own great love, Megha (Aishwarya Rai), committed suicide when her father expelled Raj when he learned of their relationship; determined that the two were not allowed to be together. That same father then being the unyielding Narayan Shankar.

 Mohabbatein then makes for such brilliant cinema and engrossing romance as it combines all the freshness and innocence of young love with the intensity of passions that transcend the boundaries of life and death. The sense of pathos invoked by Chopra is interweaved into every detail of the piece, from music to performance; the preposterous and absurd. The confrontations between Bachchan and Khan in this piece are far more enigmatic than in KKKG given the different stakes between a father and son and the different types of love that two men can feel when grieving over the loss of the same woman. It proves one of my favourites time and again given how, for all the playfulness and somewhat ridiculous outlines in the plot, it is the eternalised love that is embodied by Raj and Megha, and the wondrous idea that not even mortality stands as a barrier between those that truly love each other, that will be hard pressed to feel like your heart might physically glow.

 BEST SONG: Humko Humise Churalo / Zinda Rehti Hain Mohabbatein

Hasee toh Phasee (She smiles, she's snared, 2014)

'You are the oxygen to my double hydrogen. Our chemistry flows like water.'

 This more modern film addresses far more contemporary issues than its predecessors, the complex relationship between Nikhil (Siddarth Malhotra) and Meeta (Parineeti Chopra) abandoning perhaps much of the traditional grandeur in place of what one could argue is closer to the standard quirky, slice-of-life style typical of an adolescent British rom-com. What is indisputable is that even without as much of a flair for the dramatic and the abundance of glamour, the film still radiates with a palpable sense of heart, as it invites us to explore what happens when flustered yet well-meaning Nikhil becomes saddled with looking after his fiancee, Karishma's, eccentric sister during the week before their wedding. One can't help but chuckle and squirm as we watch Nikhil's hapless attempts to pass Meeta off as a long-lost friend to his family and friends in his and Karishma's efforts to conceal her from her own family, the reasons for her freakish personality going unspoken except for the ominous pills she keeps popping on the sly.

 We soon realise the reason Meeta has been isolated from her family is due to how she chose to prioritise her academic ambitions over that of the traditional femininity and getting dolled up for the purposes of marriage and domesticity; the disappointment invested towards her paving a way for a natural connection with an equally lost Nikhil in his endless efforts to appease the incessant demands of his more materialistic fiancee. This then is what makes the film even more compelling given how it goes against the culturally ingrained stereotypes of the man managing to be the effortless, seductive hero, able to provide and fight for the woman he loves in conjunction to the beauteous and elusive heroine. Instead, it invokes a relationship about two people who feel lost in the oppression of society's expectations, the result being that despite judgemental relatives and unstable emotionality, the two are able to find something magical that can only be brought out in each other.

 BEST SONG: Ishq Bulaava / Manchala

Pardes (Foreign Land, 1997)

'You've all mistaken me for some innocent little painting that you've framed in gold, and now you want me to hang on these walls in silence and become a part of this false decor! This isn't the dream I came to this foreign land with, is it?'

Now, this is a controversial one. Pardes is probably the most politically charged movie on this list as it is famous for being an incredibly evocative piece of anti-Western propaganda. It concerns what happens when free-spirited Ganga (Mahima Chaudhary) is handed in marriage to the son of a wealthy NRI (Non-Resident Indian), however the vastness of the difference in culture on top of the distance between India and America sees to it that the outcome of such an engagement comes to some horrific consequences. Pardes is primarily then about the clash between cultures when the innocent essence of India is dragged to and exposed within the more confident and lavish shores of America. This premise in itself may seem problematic and would understandably evoke outrage as America is intentionally built up as the criminalised empire in the face of the all-pure India, however, what the viewer must remember when watching Pardes is that it is quintessentially a story about consent and respect. It's about acknowledging the difference in cultures and adhering to ways of life you may not understand, rather than trying to overwhelm and consume that sense of 'otherness' like a tyrannical Frankenstein 'penetrating into the secrets of nature' and causing chaos for everyone. It is fair to say then that Pardes is problematic and the socio-political accuracy of the piece could be spat upon until the cows come home, but it is this sense of duality and complication that makes it so interesting.

The main romantic storyline of the film then may be more of a Trojan horse for the more significant aspects for discussion, but it is more than fair to say that the political stakes are squarely matched by the passions at play. After all, when the wholly Americanised Rajiv (Apurva Agnihotri) proves to be more than a little bit of a disappointment, it is the relationship between Ganga and his adopted brother Arjun (Shah Rukh Khan) that comes to full heart-warming fruition. Arjun's role as the mediator between Ganga and Rajiv in trying to fulfil his adopted father's wish in smoothing the match over quickly escalates to into him becoming Ganga's most trusted confidante and defender. One can recognise perhaps the outdated sense of chivalry in this - especially as the inclusion of the attempted rape scene does appear to be an excuse for tensions to culminate in a traditional, Bollywood-esque full-on fist fight. However, credit has to be duly cast to the writers as they characterise Arjun as possessing a rare sense of compassion and empathy, especially given how his proclamation of love for Ganga is based not on lust but his genuine desire to trust, revere, respect and protect. In addition to this, it is easy to admire Ganga for her perseverance in trying to navigate this foreign land, she becoming all the more engaging for her burgeoning determination without the expense of her self-respect and ingrained love for her home nation. The prioritisation of one another's welfare above their own alongside becoming embroiled in their sense of duty to tradition and family is then what makes their journey towards each other so compelling and heart-wrenching. Pardes is a love story with incredibly heavy undertones that would have to be entered with a particularly open mind, but perhaps once the offences have been fully digested, one can fully appreciate why the film is so renowned; with a love that is all at once devastating as it is wonderful and profound.  

 Devdas (2002)

'Where can I find again my lost innocence? My lost dreams? My lost childhood? What happened to my home in the shade of the trees?'

 If there was ever an answer to the intensity and literary grandeur of tragic romances the like of Romeo and Juliet or Abelard and Heloise, then Devdas slaps back with unparalleled panache. If it wasn't a love story in its own right then Devdas is indisputably an affair for the senses; Sanjay Leela Bhansali's breath-taking production instilling every scene and action with such aestheticism that the Pre-Raphaelites are, no doubt, positively quaking. The story is no doubt a tragedy, following the titular character's (Shah Rukh Khan's) debilitating descent into alcoholism following his childhood sweetheart, Paro's (Aishwarya Rai), marriage after his mother ridicules her family for being descended from prostitutes a long time back down the line of their ancestry. Ironically enough, he seeks relief in leaving his home and taking shelter with a friend who works at a brothel, his emotional deterioration subject to the fruitless effortless of the heartfelt taiwaif (courtesan) Chandramukhi (Madhuri Dixit).

The relationship between Dev and Paro is continuously fraught with psychological manipulation as the two try to progress with their lives whilst undeniably in love with each other, the acting on the parts of Khan and Rai being so invigorating that it would not be surprising to find yourself holding your breath whenever the two are on screen. the interactions between Khan and Dixit are additionally moving as they have a deeper understanding of one another, their relationship perhaps being all the more rueful in the sense of it being a one-sided sense of self-sacrifice as Dev continues to ruminate over a love he can never have. Indeed, though Khan is typically praised for his rigorous performance, it has been disputed that it is perhaps the talent and dynamic between Rai and Dixit in their roles as Paro and Chandramukhi - the aristocrat and the courtesan - is the actual showstopper in this magnificent piece. It was never in the original story after all that the two women should have a relationship outside their original and comparatively brief confrontation over who loves Dev more, so that fact that Bhansali chooses to instal and flesh out the friendship between these two equally fierce and magnetic women is but one of the aspects that makes this film so essential and inspiring.

BEST SONG: All of them omg

Goliyon ki Rasleela Ram-Leela (A Play on Bullets: Ram-Leela, 2013)

'If hatred and pride can make a desert of the sea, then love can make flowers bloom here.'

 Let's establish this from the start -  Baz Luhrmann can choke.

This is how a real Rom-and Jules-adaption is done. As the most sultry addition to the list by far (seriously, phew), Ram-Leela admittedly does take a lot of liberties with the narrative. Nevertheless, any alterations or revisions that have been made are entirely for the better. In fact, even if you were to take the stance that Romeo and Juliet were as young and naive as they are in order to heighten the tragedy of violence and conflict, then it becomes more than reasonable to argue that Ram-Leela actually captures the essence of the play more than the stagnant Western replicas that have plagued us in the past. We still have the warring families, the star-crossed lovers and poetics on steroids, only that the narrative is enhanced by the rawness of rural Rajasthan to bring Shakespeare’s message to better fruition.  Indeed, if you, like me then, have always been able to appreciate the ideologies behind the original play, yet remained impatient with the immaturity and implausibility of the titular characters in spite of yourself, then Ram-Leela provides the perfect amendment to all those irritations. Instead, we see two leads who are far more enthralling and philosophical, the opposition between them being so devastating given how Bhansali interweaves dramatic irony with frustrating relish. It comes down to how the Rajadis and Saneras cause the original Montagues and Capulets to look embarrassingly spineless by comparison; their inconceivable prowess in being able to manipulate even their own playing on our expectations so much that it cements the romance firmly within the boundaries of tragedy.

 Indeed, we are not just treated to a brief separation between the two until the time of death, but rather the stage is reset so that Ram (Ranveer Singh) and Leela (Deepika Padukone) become the respective heads of their families and are forced to war against each other - and not entirely against their own wills either. The film encompasses a similar sense of passionate antagonisation that abounds in Devdas as well then, the irony being that the more fraught and frayed the relationship, the more your heart aches for want of the forsaken lovers to be able to make it. In truth, the film actually starts out ridiculously playfully with bounties of energy and innuendo, the fact that it is able to convincingly transition on its axis to become so emotionally straining being a credit to Bhansali's directorial ingenuity. Of course, the chemistry between the leads in Ranveer Singh and Deepika Padukone is near indescribable, both balancing refreshing elements of mischief and charm alongside intense vulnerability and ardour. Critics have labelled their performances as probably being still the finest of their careers (which is saying plenty, trust me), the camaraderie between the two hardly being surprising. After all, the two did just get married late last year - and on the anniversary of the film's original release date no less! So if that doesn't convince you of the quality of such a love story, then I'm afraid that you will be convinced by very little else.

 BEST SONG: Lahu Munh Lag Gaya / Nagada Sang Dohl / Laal Ishq

 Kal Ho Naa Ho (Tomorrow might not be, 2014)

'Listen - live, be happy, smile, because who knows? Tomorrow might not be.'

 Honestly, in light of all the films that have been listed before now, with their mind-blowing cinematography, incredibly moving soundtracks and ground-breaking scopes of acting, Kal Ho Naa Ho might seem to fall a little short. It's set in the dreary din of New York, the soundtrack is more constructed towards fun and contemporary glamour, yet it is undeniable that this film is my favourite of the whole bunch. The top of my list of romantic Bops then is the story of Naina (Preity Zinta) and the many complications which taint her family; the pressure being so much that she has been rendered the constant embodiment of irritability. And even forgotten how to smile. Everything turns around when Aman (Shah Rukh Khan) enters the family's life: optimistic, charismatic and caring, he literally breathes new life into Naina's existence, so that before long she finds herself completely devoted to him in place of the unspoken affections of her closest friend, Rohit (Saif Ali Khan). What pans out is that on the verge of telling Aman she loves him however is that he tells Naina that the reason he came to New York was to repair his frayed relationship with his wife, Priya (Sonali Bendre). Unbeknownst to the bereft Naina, this is, in fact, a lie. The truth is that Priya is actually Aman's doctor and he doesn't have much time left to live.

I don't know then whether it's because the characters and scenarios are so well grounded, the dynamics and difficulties within the Kapur family are more relatable, or that the relationships between and constructions of characters are perhaps the most believable, but it's one of those films that you'll agree, once you've watched it, has an inexplicable sensibility that takes the cake every time. A lot of it does seem to be grounded in the healthy and brilliant way the love triangle is handled in the film, as any sense of complication or rivalry between Rohit and Aman is evoked as comedy rather than any serious resentment or envy. It's an incredibly unique love triangle then and this is perhaps why it has garnered so much critical respect, as the love-triangle motif is such a typical motif of Bollywood cinema (with repeatedly toxic and violent confrontations like in Pardes), that it is refreshing to see a love depicted so genuinely and platonically. It's even more heart-warming to watch as Aman does his best efforts to ensure that Naina walks with Rohit down the aisle (or the Saptapadi to be precise) all the while wielding his best façade so that she never realises that he loves her too. In fact, the affections between them are so subtle and few that the effect is paradoxically more intense, as you find yourself latching onto every fleeting sign of love between them that you can. KHNH then is another one that I recommend first and foremost, though in truth it's best not to watch it too often unless you have a few days to spare in which to emotionally recover.

 BEST SONG: Titular track

 And there you have it - they may not be the best according to everyone's taste, but the romances listed above are some of the most critically acclaimed and effective Bollywood masterpieces to ever grace the silver screen. Though they may start as cliched and melodramatic, with too much dance and quirky dynamic, this is always a foil to deep-rooted passions and die-hard affections - each a romantic experience above and beyond any of your expectations.

Tanika Lane

[paladin-andric]

Blackheart, Chapter 26: Tourthun’s Legacy

“Basilrin.”

“Yes…?” the still grieving dragon looked down at the knight, fighting to see through his blurred vision.

“You should go back. See if the others are okay. If they are...you can come back with them and regroup. That way we can all stick together.”

The green dragon took a step back from his brother’s corpse, eyes shut. He slowly began to nod.

“Right...father...I should see if he is well...”

He was clearly still reeling from the revelation that his brother was buried in that monster somewhere, that he could have been saved.

It must have hurt so much. Alexander had experienced something similar, but only with fellow soldiers. To have it happen to family, to someone you have spent your entire life with, and loved with all of your heart…

“Basilrin.”

The dragon was facing away, though he glanced back the sound of his name. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Basilrin winced. “I...I do not blame you. I do not blame anyone. I...I only wish…”

He turned back around, head lowered.

“...that things could have gone differently,” Alexander finished.

“Right.”

The knight nodded.

“I know the feeling,” he spoke, a bitterness stinging his words, “It’ll take time, but...it’ll start to hurt less.”

“Less…?”

Alexander frowned. “It never goes away...but it stops being all you think about.”

Basilrin nodded solemnly. “I see. Thank you, noble knight.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The green dragon rumbled. “I will return. Be safe.”

“Good luck.”

With that, Basilrin unfurled his wings and launched into the air, quickly flying Eastward and back to the rest of the group.

Now they were but a small portion of the entire group. Four remained at this entrance. Two humans, a kobold and a dragon.

Almost sounds like the start of a bad joke.

The knight sighed and looked back to the cavern. Though he peered intently, he couldn’t see much of anything. Just a large, blank passageway inside, quickly fading into darkness. Beyond the outlines of the walls, nothing more could be seen.

Go inside.

It was…a strange desire. Alexander was surprised at how badly he wanted to see what was inside.

He found himself taking a step forward. Then another. And another.

“Alexander?”

It was Leianna.

“We should move,” he said in a low voice, “All of this will have been for nothing if we don’t take advantage of discovering one of their lairs.”

“I mean...okay? I suppose.”

The knight shrugged. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Senci frowned, slowly creeping over to the two humans. He had been quiet since Julroul died, and only now seemed to be regaining his composure.

“Oh, God,” the kobold muttered, “W-what do you think is inside?”

“Something important.”

The trio gathered close to one another, weapons drawn as they stood at the mouth of the cave. Each one stared ahead, nervously anticipating whatever trials were ahead of them.

Alexander took a deep breath. “Okay...here we go.”

The knight took the first step inside, quickly followed by the Leianna and Senci. Tourthun quietly followed, taking soft steps, as not to shake the earth and cause a ruckus.

The first thing Alexander noticed was that this cavern seemed to be a straight hallway of sorts. It was wide and tall, but seemed to serve only to bring anyone entering to whatever important thing lay at the end.

The next, and only other thing the knight could make out was that this cavern was DARK. With the fog casting the city in shadow, and no lights along the cavern, it quickly became nearly impossible to see.

“Err...Leianna? Senci? Either of you-”

“On it,” Leianna answered. Alexander could hear her fiddling with something for a few moments until a stroke of vision came and went, before the sound of a plume of flames heralded the arrival of light.

The entire area around them was bathed in the dim and red light of a torch, being held up by the cleric herself. The flames danced across the torch and brought clarity to the cavern around them.

As it appeared at first, it truly was a simply hallway, albeit massive so that dragons could fit through it. It was barren and stretched far ahead of them, still in darkness and outside the torch’s light.

“Well...onward, than.” Alexander gave a nod and the group continued moving.

They walked for several minutes, time seeming to stretch on and on as they kept walking with nothing in sight.

“How big is this place…?” Leianna wondered out loud.

“Only one way to find out,” Tourthun spoke in a near-whisper.

The knight began to sweat heavily. The heat from the torch next to him, combined with the surprisingly warm and humid cavern interior was making him burn up inside his suit. He could feel his clothes underneath all his layers of armor being soaked with sweat as they ventured deeper and deeper into the cave system.

“Mmm...very warm,” Senci noted, sounding quite pleased.

“Indeed,” Tourthun replied, also seeming cheery about it.

Ah, they’re cold-blooded, aren’t they…? Well, actually I don’t know. Never learned about that sort of stuff. Huh.

Though their conversation was light, Alexander felt...wrong. There was something in the air, something that made the hairs on his arms stand up and his breaths to be quicker and shallower.

He could feel an overwhelming sense of dread deep in the pit of his stomach. Something terrible was just around the corner.

That feeling didn’t go away as he marched on, and it seemed the others could feel it too. Their chatter died out and there was palpable tension between them.

“Leianna?”

“What?” Her response was little more than a bark. She was on edge, to be certain.

“Something’s wrong.”

The cleric grunted. “I can feel...a great evil here. There’s something dark in these walls.”

“M-maybe we should go back!” Senci squeaked, “Then we can return with everyone else and all do this together!”

Alexander paused. “That’s...not a bad idea.”

“I guess so,” Leianna said with a sigh, “Don’t want another screw up…damn it, fine. Let’s go.”

As they turned to begin walking back however, they were frozen to the ground in shock.

Past Tourthun, back where they had come from...were figures standing in the shadows.

There were so many, and their outlines stood against the dim light of the entrance far away.

Everyone was silent, Tourthun included. For several long moments, the group and the shadows stood motionless, staring at one another.

After a few moments, Leianna slowly stepped forward and held her torch out. The light crept forward, bathing the first line of figures in light.

Demons.

Not the corrupted, demons.

Dozens of them. Standing shoulder to shoulder. Varied in appearance. Various shades of red, purple and black. Some resembling monsters and beasts, some looking like the demons from most tales heard by the masses.

And this was just the first row. There were so many more in the shadows, figures blocking out the small glimmers of light from the outside.

There must have been hundreds of them.

“You’ll be going nowhere,” a deep voice called out. It was unmistakable. Alexander could recognize it as the demon from Tourthun’s cave.

The red dragon took action immediately. He whirled around and unfurled his wings, launching past the group in a blur. As he passed, his claws reached out and snatched them up, taking hold of them as he sped down the cave.

Alexander couldn’t see anything with his vision obscured by the massive talons of the dragon. As he sat curled up, movement locked by Tourthun’s tight grip of him, he heard that all too familiar explosion of magic.

The accursed beams of death that ate away anything caught within.

He could feel Tourthun whip to the side just as the explosion rang out. It seemed as luck would have it, the path suddenly took a sharp turn, providing them cover against the demons for a time.

The knight could hear many voices, all wrong sounding. The cacophony of unholy noise made him shudder as they flew further inside.

He wished he could just SEE what was happening, being in the dark and unable to know whether they were safe or not began to infuriate him as they ventured ever deeper, Tourthun twisting and turning as he continued flying down the great path.

After some time of this, Alexander felt shock as the claws around him let go, leaving him to drop to the ground with a noisy clang.

The knight shook his head and began to climb back to his feet, looking around as he did so.

They were in what appeared to be a massive, square room. The entire place was lined in a bizarrely patterned stone, runed and glowing red. It was mostly barren...except for a few key items.

In the middle of the room, a large, glasslike protrusion rose from the ground, mist pouring free from it. It greatly unnerved Alexander. Something about it made him shiver just from looking at it. There was an unnatural light from its gleaming specks and angles.

Nearby, a robed figure was sprawled out on the ground, face and body obscured by their robes. They were the only other person in the room.

At the far end of the room, away from the entrance...a trapdoor was sitting, closed and unassuming.

“Tourthun…? Where are we?”

“This is...the end of the cave,” the dragon answered. Something about his voice conveyed a terror the beast couldn’t keep hidden, as much as he tried.

“Who’s this?” Alexander asked, walking over to the robed figure. Leianna moved up as well and flipped the prone person over.

It was a woman, and undoubtedly human. Her face was aged, though not elderly. Her gaze was blank, and her body was motionless.

“Leianna, is she…?”

The cleric placed a hand on the woman, eyes closing as she readied her magic.

“She’s...dead,” the cleric spoke, sounding shocked, “Out here in Julroul’s hideout...who in the world…?”

Tourthun’s eyes widened. “That...that is her!”

“Who?” Senci asked.

“The one I spoke of! The woman I saw!”

“The sorcerer…” Alexander said breathlessly.

“She died…?” Leianna shook her head as she examined the now dead woman.

“That...what was she doing here? What the hell was she doing here? And how the hell are we gonna find out now?!”

“She was holding this.”

Leianna held up a large, blue stone. It was larger than the palm of her hand, and seemed to radiate a faint light.

“Huh.”

“Friends…”

Tourthun still carried that frightened, worried tone in his voice.

“I do not mean to alarm you, but...there were no other paths in the caves. This is the only place it led to, and there appears to be only one exit…”

Leianna looked over to the trapdoor. “Ah, great! Let’s take the stone and go, than.”

As she began to walk towards the door, she froze.

“Wait…that means…”

“Tourthun can’t fit,” Alexander finished.

The dragon let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, I can simply…”

Tourthun walked over to the trapdoor and raised a leg before slamming it down into the wooden door, only…

As the wood burst apart, the dragon was suddenly knocked back with a bright spark of light.

“Huh…?”

The dragon reached down and tried to smash up the floor again, and once more, the ground flashed and his claws bounced off of the stone harmlessly.

“The...the demons have wrapped this room in protective magics.”

The dragon was starting to panic, now. Alexander could tell. He too started to worry. That meant that the only way out was...though hundreds of demons.

The dragon clicked his talons against the floor in thought before he stood up straight. “Ah, if I were to…”

He threw himself against the wall. He was thrown back, the wall showing no damage whatsoever.

The dragon then threw himself into the air, smashing in the ceiling in desperation...only to fall back to the ground without so much as a scratch on the earth that held back one of the mightiest beings in Deaco.

The dragon looked around in a furious panic. “I...there is...perhaps…”

“Leianna, your scrolls!” Alexander exclaimed, “The ones you saved him with before!”

For a moment, the knight’s heart fluttered with excitement...only for his joy to be shot down with a shake of the cleric’s head. Her face bore the look of absolute defeat.

“That...that was the only one I had. We...can’t warp.”

“Than that means…”

Oh, no. No, no, no, no NO.

Tourthun gritted his teeth. “I see...I can understand now. I...I cannot leave with you.”

“No,” the knight cried, “No, Leianna, dispel the magic!”

The cleric leaned down and placed her hand on the ground, divine energy flowing through her. The knight could hear several curses muttered under her breath as she worked, beginning to look tired already.

She stopped and stumbled back, giving the dragon a wide berth. “A-attack it.”

The dragon lifted up his claws high in the air, and swung downward with all of his, might, the entire earth shaking as his massive claws collided with the ground.

The great display of draconic power gave the group a brief sense of hope...only for the truth to be displayed as the dragon took his claws away from the impact area.

A single, tiny bit of stone was chipped, and nothing more.

“I...I’ve never seen such powerful wards in my life,” Leianna uttered, sounding completely spent.

“Oh my God..” Alexander stepped back as he saw what this meant.

Tourthun let out a shaky whimper as he came to his own conclusion.

“F-friends...I...I think this is...where we part ways.”

“NO!” Senci bellowed, “No, never!”

“There is only one escape from this place, and I cannot enter it.”

“No…” Leianna shook her head. “No, there must be something…”

“You...you should go,” Tourthun said softly. His eyes glistened, wet with forming tears. “They will be here at any moment.”

“We can’t just leave you,” Alexander whispered, feeling terror course through him for the first time in quite a while.

“It...it seems you have little choice.”

“NO!” Senci screamed, “No, no, no, no! I will NOT run away! I-if you can’t leave...I’ll stay!”

“Do no such thing!” Tourthun said angrily, “I forbid it!”

“We can beat them if we work together!” the kobold insisted.

Leianna shook her head. “Senci...there were hundreds. We could barely beat one with everyone else there.”

“This is not a winnable battle,” the knight agreed meekly.

“You...you can’t be serious!” Senci cried, tears forming in his eyes. “You aren’t really going to abandon him!”

“It is the only way for you to survive,” Tourthun answered sadly, “There is no other way.”

“There is ALWAYS another way! We can do it, together!”

“Senci…”

“Stop it! Stop giving up!” he wiped at his eyes, looking at the others angrily. “If...if you won’t stand by your friend...than I’ll just do it myself!”

“I told you to LEAVE!” Tourthun bellowed, “I command you, Senci!”

“NO! I won’t leave you! You can’t make me!”

“My death is in vain if you do not escape!” The dragon growled, “Do not betray my wishes!”

“B-but...but we’re friends.” Senci looked up at the dragon, wracked with grief. “Friends...friends stay at each other’s side to the very end.”

“The world is at stake,” Tourthun retorted, “You have to survive, so that you can close the Blackheart. Senci, please...let me go.”

“N-no...no, this isn’t right...this isn’t right!”

Leianna came up from behind and wrapped her arms around Senci, quickly pulling him away.

“H-hey! Stop! Let me go!” the kobold yelled, kicking and struggling as the much larger cleric began to drag him to the trapdoor.

“I’m sorry.”

“Leianna! I thought you cared! I thought you were good! That you didn’t abandon your friends! Stop it...STOP IT!”

“S-sometimes, you can’t do anything. You can’t always solve everything.”

Senci began to wail and cry as he struggled against the cleric. “Nooooo! No, he needs us! He needs our help! You’re abandoning him! Y-you’re gonna let him die!”

“I know,” Leianna answered, her own voice sounding as shattered as Senci’s.

As she cried, Alexander too could feel tears run down his face. Was this really who they were? People willing to let their friends die so they could save their own skin?

Had they really saved Tourthun all those times, just for him to be lost so pointlessly?

“Tourthun…” Alexander could hear a deep-seated sorrow in his voice that he couldn’t recall ever hearing before.

“My dear friend.”

The dragon looked down on the knight, tears flowing down his muzzle and dropping onto the ground. Despite that, he was smiling widely.

“Tourthun...I...I can’t...”

“Do not feel so bad. I...I had little to look forward to in the outside world. Besides...” the dragon looked up to the ceiling, smile widening.

“I...I can finally be with them again. I can finally see mother and father again.”

“Oh, God, Tourthun…”

“I apologize for wasting your time. I only wish I could have been of some actual help.”

“Y-you were amazing, Tourthun.”

“Nonsense.”

The dragon looked over to Senci, who was still screaming and crying as Leianna brought him to the trapdoor.

“Hurry along now, my dear friend. You need to put some distance in between yourself and the demons.”

Alexander could hardly believe it. This was really happening. This was really the end.

“I...Tourthun...I’m sorry we failed you.”

“You did nothing of the sort. You saved me so many times. It is only natural my luck ran out eventually. Besides...you made my final days wonderful. No one ever let me speak of my woes so.”

Alexander could only shake his head as he felt tears and a burning heat in his face.

“Hurry now...hurry! I will hold them for as long as I can. You MUST survive. The entire world is counting on you! Humanity, and all life is in YOUR hands! You must escape!”

The knight slowly began to back up, towards the exit and his companions. “Tourthun...I...I won’t let you be forgotten. I’m going to tell everyone, once this is over. The entire world will know of Tourthun, the Hero of Palethorn! I swear on my life!”

The dragon smiled wistfully, tears still flowing freely. “I appreciate it. Farewell...my dear friend. Bless you.”

“Tourthun...I’ll never forget you.”

The dragon watched him go, holding his smile as Alexander reluctantly climbed down the ladder under the trapdoor.

“Good luck Knight Alexander, hero and friend. I am honored to have met you.”

The narrow and winding rooms underneath the main caves were dark and claustrophobic, though no one dared even give that a second’s thought.

Senci still cried and screamed, begging to be let back. Begging for them to protect Tourthun. Leianna forced the kobold along with a sort of grim sorrow, looking utterly crestfallen at the small lizard’s pleas.

As they continued making their way through this small system of underground rooms, hoping to find another route out of the caves, Alexander couldn’t help but feel immense shame at his actions.

Senci was right. They should have stood alongside Tourthun. Friends stood up for one another to the bitter end. They should have fallen alongside their friend and left Andric, or one of the others to take up the mantle of their quest instead.

“P-please! He needs us! There’s still time! Please, we have to go back! We have to-”

A familiar noise cut Senci off. It was that sound. The one they had all grown to dread.

The explosion signaling a magical beam of pure death.

Immediately afterwards, the loud, bellowing cry of a dragon rang out. There were no more sounds after that.

Though he couldn’t see it, Alexander’s ears told him all he needed to know.

Tourthun was dead.

Senci broke into hysterics, wailing and screaming at the sounds above them.

It was too much. Utterly overwhelmed, all three of them collapsed to the floor, consumed by grief.

Alexander shook, slamming a fist into the wall beside him. His fury flared up as he stewed over one of the most bitter realizations he had even been forced to accept.

What he had been trying to avoid since the siege all that time ago, had just happened again. He had failed to save those counting on him.

“Those demons...I’ll kill them...I’ll slaughter them all!”

While his anger at the injustice burned fiercely, his sorrow ran even deeper. He swallowed hard and shook his head, fist still resting against the wall.

“God damn it...GOD, DAMN IT!”

He huffed and quivered in silence as Senci kept crying, Leianna sitting in silence, hands wrapped around the kobold and tears flowing down her face.

The knight looked back to where they had come from, still in disbelief and struggling to accept that this was real.

The dragon had done so much for him. They had fought together, he had brought them to wherever they needed to go. They had shared intimate details with one another, encouraged and promised to aid each other, both excited to become one another’s friend in the outside world. They had spoken of past, present and future, and become entangled in each other’s lives.

And now he was gone.

The knight shook his head, nose running and eyes watering, all hidden under his helmet. He took in a ragged breath as he thought over all how excited the dragon was to become a protector of humanity, to live among his friends in Havel again.

He thought of all the great and wonderful things the dragon would have done, if he had only been given the chance.

He thought about how unfair it all was.

He thought, and thought, and thought.

“Tourthun…I only wish...that things could have gone differently.”

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[dent-de-leon]

This may be old hat, but I have seen people talk about how Shiro clearly favors Keith to the detriment of other team members. Namely, Lance. I don't feel like this very IC, but I wanted to get other opinions and I enjoy your meta.

This is something in fanon that’s always kind of bothered me honestly. I have a whole meta here about how Shiro protects Lance and cares for him throughout Sendak’s takeover. I honestly don’t understand how people could say Shiro doesn’t care enough about Lance when Shiro was literally willing to get captured and tortured again for his sake. “But that was one time!” some fans will say. As if putting your life on the line and getting a few thousand volts of electricity surging down your spine isn’t a big deal apparently?? Shiro cares for Lance, he does. He could’ve won that fight, but he threw it for Lance’s sake. 

Something that I repeatedly see people cite as a sign Shiro “favors” Keith over Lance is their talk before the BOM. Shiro decides he’s going to take Keith with him, and Lance lashes out. He claims Keith is unable to stay calm, and yet, he’s the one losing his temper. And this is only the latest in a long line of instances in which their supposed “rivalry” is really just a one-sided game where Lance is the instigator and Keith repeatedly has to remain calm and either try to make peace or just tune him out. Throughout season 2, he really snaps back. In contrast, Lance has demonstrated again and again that he is childish and self-centered, that he himself has a quick temper. And yet, he’s quick to direct the blame at Keith. Who handles it quite gracefully, might I add.

So yeah, anyway, Shiro was right. It was a good call to bring Keith instead of Lance. But because Lance is often placed upon a pedestal, somehow not coddling him 24/7 can be misconstrued as abuse. I think another reason people are so quick to say Shiro doesn’t treat Lance the way he deserves is because he doesn’t talk Lance through all his insecurity issues. But you know what? If Lance wants to talk about it, then he has to bring it up. The only two people that have actually addressed that directly are Allura and Keith. And both of them only do so after Lance brings it to their attention. If Lance doesn��t speak up or keeps up an act, how is Shiro supposed to see the signs and help? 

More importantly, people act as though all of Lance’s insecurities are somehow Shiro’s fault. Why is that? Shiro has been imprisoned and tortured for a year. His PTSD and consequential paranoia, depression, and anxiety are far more difficult to deal with than Lance feeling upstaged. And yet, Shiro would never presume that this was somehow everyone else’s burden, or that they owed him more because of it. So why should Lance merit special treatment? Yes, Shiro isn’t as attentive with Lance and Hunk. But that’s because they’re so much more well adjusted. 

I don’t mean this badly, it’s just a fact. They came from good, loving homes. Hunk feels fondly enough about his family to want to return, and seems to have no baggage associated it. Lance meanwhile we know was the youngest sibling and somewhat spoiled. They had it good before. There’s nothing wrong with that. Characters don’t have to have traumatic backstories to be deep or meaningful. But this also means that these two aren’t dealing with the same shit as Keith and Pidge. They don’t have Keith’s abandonment issues or the shared grief he and and Pidge feel over losing their family. These two need more reassurance and guidance and comfort, and Shiro is of course there to provide it. 

Bizarrely enough, it also feels like fans are unable to believe that Shiro has friends. Lance treats Hunk significantly better than Keith from day one, and in fact forces his personal vendetta on Keith for purely selfish reasons. But Keith is expected to graciously accept this because “it’s just from Lance’s insecurities.” Meanwhile, Shiro clearly has nothing against Lance and has never singled him out or treated him poorly out of nowhere. Yet he’s accused of favoritism. This favoritism is really just friendship. He knew Keith before Kerberos, was so close with him he literally brought Keith to the launch instead of his own family. They’ve clearly been side by side for a long time, long enough for Keith to develop an intense desire to be with him when he shuts out everyone else. Long enough for Shiro to not be surprised that it’s Keith of all people who shows up to save him. 

Romantic or not, “Shiro and Keith have the closest relationship.” In Joaquim’s own words, that’s canon (source). So of course their interactions will be different from everyone else’s. That gravity and vulnerability is unique to them alone. And honestly? Removing that link is clearly detrimental to both their coping mechanisms. I think it’s selfish for people to expect Shiro to either push Keith away or pull everyone else in. He’s not ready for something like that, and it shouldn’t be forced on him. Everyone else is allowed to have best friends or romance or whatever’s happening here. Why can’t Shiro? Why is that so wrong? And, to take this in another direction–were Lance to somehow become Black Paladin, does that mean he has to distance himself from Hunk? That he can’t still be interested in Allura? No, I don’t think so. 

And I mean, Shiro does trust Lance, you know? He does still take Lance’s input into account. When Lance says he wants to try to make that impossible shot in Beta Traz, Shiro lets him. Shiro trusts him. And when he makes it? Shiro compliments him! And the reaction is immediate–Lance is clearly thrilled. So yes, Shiro does think Lance is capable of great things. Yes, Shiro lets Lance know when he does a good job and wants to be supportive of him. That much is clear.

I think the other reason why people assume Shiro is somehow biased against Lance because he made Keith Black Paladin instead. And, I’m going to be completely straightforward here–the idea of Black Paladin Lance just makes no sense to me. Neither in the narrative nor thematically and it certainly doesn’t fit with his character development. The thing is, I think people have lost sight of what Black Paladin really means. It’s not a popularity contest. It doesn’t mean you’re the “best” and you shouldn’t just want your fav to have that spot. Lance is far more suited to the role of a Red Paladin, as reflected in his parallels with Alfor, his talk with Allura, and his character arc. To quote my other meta:

It’d be a huge setback and really detract from his character development. When he sits in the Black Lion for “like half a varga” Lance’s main motivation here is seeking his own glory. His character arc is about learning to grow past that and see the bigger picture and realize everyone in Voltron is part of a whole and you’re not better because you’re the leader. 

The way he treated Keith earlier in that episode was also incredibly malicious considering the guy was grieving the loss of the person he loved most. And Lance still has the audacity to spit on Shiro’s last “dying” will and continually provoke Keith until he lashes out or leaves. Learning to see the wrong in that and instead supporting Keith was a huge step for him, and I don’t see why he’d ever still take Black after that. 

It also makes no sense thematically. When Keith steps into Black again, he says, “I know this is what you wanted for me, Shiro. But I’m not you. I can’t lead them like you.” And Lance just goes, “This is your moment.” Keith’s concern first and foremost is with what Shiro wanted and what’s best for the team. Lance just wants to steal the spotlight. He has no intrinsic connection to the Black lion through his bond with Shiro the way Keith does. He also doesn’t have those thematic parallels to Zarkon the way Keith does–instead, he’s recognized as being very similar to Alfor. 

People act like Shiro and Keith stole away Lance’s chance at leadership, but Shiro wasn’t even considering anyone else. Lance was never even in the running. 

The thing is, I kind of understand where people are coming from. To my knowledge, a lot of fans find Lance to be the most relatable, and reflect on him–likewise, I often do this with Keith. But anyway, people really feel for Lance and see their own insecurities through him. But that still doesn’t mean everyone should drop everything to immediately focus on him. Shiro is a good leader. Shiro cares about all of his paladins. Shiro by no means has anything against Lance. But that doesn’t mean he should be given the spot as Black Paladin just because he’s Lance, or that Shiro should be micromanaging his and the other paladins’ emotional needs 24/7 when he’s just trying to get by himself. I understand people feeling for Lance and wanting to see him reach his full potential. But that doesn’t mean everyone has to bow down to him. In fact, going by his daydreams and personal arc–this would significantly negate a good amount of his character development. 

[tipsoctopus]

Opinion: Nobody emerges with any dignity from Man City's controversial 'Allez Allez' video

As a match-going Manchester City supporter I cannot recall first hearing the bastardised version of Liverpool’s ‘Allez Allez Allez’ song. Like most chants it seemed to appear from nowhere and quickly it became established as a firm favourite in the South Stand songbook. Personally I have never sung it – or at least not all of it – and there are two valid reasons for that. Where I sit in the Colin Bell it is not possible to even shout out generic encouragement to the lads without receiving a withering stare, as if you’re up to no good. And there is a line in the song that has never sat right with me.

That is not to say that I didn’t find – and still find – the overall sentiment to the song amusing. A ribbing of Reds once again getting all carried away and believing a major piece of silverware – in this instance the Champions League of last year – was their destiny. Ultimately they ended up empty-handed while Raheem Sterling – a player who the Anfield faithful boo and hate on remorselessly – won a double. What’s not to like about such schadenfreude? Well, there’s that line but we will come to that.

Before we do though perhaps it might be necessary to whizz through a quick potted history of how the song came to be. I’ll skim because most reading this will already be very familiar with what follows.

Antagonism between Liverpool and Manchester City first intensified from a historic dislike of one another grounded in geography when both clubs became embroiled in a fiercely contested title race back in 2013/14 and the fixture schedules demanded that City travelled to Anfield late in the season. The encounter coincided with the 25th anniversary of Hillsborough and City fans were impeccable that day. They respectfully mourned during the minute’s silence. They held aloft a large banner declaring their solidarity with Liverpool.

In return the Eccles supporter’s branch coach was vandalised with stones on route to the ground. Every touch from a City player was loudly booed throughout. A loud cheer went up when Yaya Toure went off injured.

All of which – particularly given the circumstances – sickened me then and sickens me now and the response (to the latter two examples, not the coach attack) from Reds afterwards was interesting to say the least. Man up. Whatever it takes to disrupt a rival and win a game of football is fair game. Right, okay.

At the end of that season Raheem Sterling swapped a red shirt for blue and the reaction from Liverpool the club and its fans made Figo’s move from Barcelona to Real Madrid appear positively harmonious. It’s a hysteria that has only recently abated. It’s a hysteria that indirectly led to a sustained media witch-hunt of a thoroughly decent kid.

Sometime later Sadio Mane was sent off at the Etihad after inadvertently kicking Ederson in the head. Clearly there was no intention behind the incident yet it was still a red card all day long which made Liverpool supporters’ reaction to it – as if it were the greatest injustice ever committed on a football pitch – somewhat bizarre. Ederson meanwhile became a boo-boy to them for that: for having his face smashed to smithereens by boot studs.

Late last season came the most fractious episode of all when Manchester City’s team coach was vandalised so badly outside Anfield ahead of a Champions League quarter final that it required a replacement vehicle to take them home. It was a hostile ‘welcome’ taken too far and it was one too that was planned publicly beforehand with online flyers doing the rounds on social media. The Merseyside police for their part helpfully informed Liverpool fans of a change of route thus – to this writer’s perception – facilitating the attack.

As for Reds they responded to the holy rumpus that followed with mockery and pride. It was their actions, they insisted that helped traumatise the players and bring about a 3-0 victory for the home side that evening. More so they also deemed to take offence in the ensuing fall-out. There is a Manchester Evening News journalist who still today receives all manner of grief for claiming stones were thrown at the bus whereas in fact it was bottles. The offence taken at this strangely equals that of City’s at having their players attacked simply for arriving at a football match.

Regardless, their progress past City pitted them against Roma and then it was onto the final in Ukraine and, as their continental adventure continued, so their ‘Allez Allez Allez’ song that celebrated their conquering of all of Europe got louder and louder to the point where it felt ubiquitous.

So perhaps in hindsight it was inevitable that, when it all fell apart so spectacularly in the final, defeated by Real Madrid and with Mo Salah injured, a corruption of that song by City fans was always going to be penned. The lyrics to City’s version, for point of reference are below.

All the way to Kiev,

To end up in defeat,

Crying in the stands,

And battered in the streets,

Ramos injured Salah,

Victims of it all,

Sterling won the double,

And the Scousers won f*** all,

Allez, Allez, Allez.

On Tuesday evening I was out having a meal with my wife. As someone who writes about football for a living the final week of the season is obviously a hectic time and I had been working pretty much non-stop. On top of this as a City fan the toxicity between my club and its title rivals had begun to consume me, eat me up. I was banned from saying the word ‘Liverpool’ in the house, put it that way.

This then was a symbolic evening: a chance to draw a line under it all and look forward to a summer concentrating on transfers. No-one sends me threats or tries to get me sacked when I write about transfers.

Only halfway through the meal my phone began chirping incessantly as Liverpool fans asked what I made of a leaked video that had come to light, a video that showed Manchester City players singing the corrupted ‘Allez’ song. Immediately I thought this: if what they’re claiming is correct then not only will Reds be justified in feeling extremely aggrieved at this but a lot will be made of it.

My accompanying thought was of Manchester United’s Europa League win in 2016, a game that took place just two days after the Manchester bombing. That night Manchester City fans congratulated United on social media. The club did likewise and furthermore put up a tweet declaring that the city was united. Jesse Lingard meanwhile in the dressing room celebrations orchestrated a song that included the line: why don’t City f*** off home.

The sheer idiocy of this floored me.

At the earliest opportunity I watched the video and even after a few times it is unclear which players are involved, if any at all (incidentally how can an employee of Manchester City have such a rubbish phone?). That is by the by though. A group of people in the employment of City are shown singing a song that solely belongs on the terraces and even that is questionable.

The furore was swift and predominantly concentrated on two lines, the first of which is the one I’ve always had a problem with: victims of it all.

Within the context of the song the disparaging noun is quite obviously referring to Salah’s injury and the ludicrous petition that started up soon after demanding that Sergio Ramos be banned. Indeed it directly follows it in the song – Ramos injured Salah, victims of it all. In a broader sense it evokes Heysel and the sustained failure of Liverpool fans to take any responsibility for what occurred that awful evening. There are also examples given above of Liverpool fans’ propensity to react to any wrongdoing by projecting grievances of their own.

Yet here’s the thing – the only thing that matters really. When Liverpool supporters hear the word ‘victim’ they think of Hillsborough.

And how can they not when you consider the utterly egregious and drawn out fight they were forced to undertake to right the wrongful perceptions put about by the media and establishment concerning that awful day. The manner in which blame was attached to grieving innocent fans is something that will stain society for a long time to come and that was compounded when those that doubted the miscarriage of justice cast them as ‘victims’. Again that’s a stain that we would do well to not forget.

So what we have here then, should we press pause for a moment is a misunderstanding; an unsavoury one certainly but a crossing of messages nonetheless. One side means one thing. The other side interprets it another way.

Yet should we play on, the dynamic of this misunderstanding changes considerably. Because it only takes a momentary dropping of bias and the grasping of common sense to acknowledge that most people – by which I mean supporters of every denomination – are perfectly aware that using the word ‘victim’ is interpreted by Liverpool supporters to be a dog-whistle for Hillsborough.

If that is accepted what is the using of that word – along with the phrase it has a direct lineage to: always the victims, never your fault – for if not to have the ‘best of both worlds’. By this I mean the chance to sing about a trait of a rival fan-base that you feel legitimately warrants criticism or mockery, while additionally knowing deep down that they are receiving it very differently and feeling deeply offended and hurt as a consequence. If so, what kind of sick ‘bonus’ is that?

The second line that has become a serious bone of contention also concerns crossed purposes. The ‘battered in the streets’ line refers to Ukrainian ultras fighting with Liverpool supporters ahead of last season’s final. Again the context is clear from the song: Crying in the stand, battered in the streets.

Reds ,however, insist it is about the horrendous and brutal attack on Sean Cox by a Roma supporter outside Anfield thirteen months ago that resulted in the 53-year-old spending a long period in a neurological unit.

It’s not. It’s really not and City fans have told and told and told Liverpool supporters this with such regularity and vehemence that you suspect there is a contrivance to project extra, intensified offence at something where offence is justified anyway (it is after all still a celebration of their own getting beaten up).

It is hoped that Reds will perhaps question why City supporters insist on correcting this misunderstanding in such numbers. Is it because they are shamed by it being about Sean Cox? If so surely they would not sing the song in the first place (and it is worth remembering at this juncture that it is not a hardcore minority who sing the song but a large and wide demographic). Is it a ‘trick’ then, with Blues laughing away in private after convincing Reds otherwise? Again, a nonsensical suggestion because football fans don’t work in this way. We have learned from Liverpool in 2014 and through a heavily vandalised coach that the rule is whatever it takes to disrupt a rival right?

More so, City have had to take on board their own suffering when a Blue was induced into a coma after being assaulted at Schalke this season. Lastly – and this cannot be put across strongly enough – City supporters are not depraved psychopaths who laugh at individuals in comas.

Still though, as just stated, the line does refer to supporters being beaten up in Ukraine and this brings us back to the video and Manchester City players and staff singing about this. That’s not a good look. Nor is their scoffing at a fellow professional in Mo Salah getting injured.

That ultimately is my take on this regrettable incident. It’s not a good look and Liverpool fans have every right to be incensed by it.

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with a rivalry that was already toxic now worsening to a dangerous level that requires calmer and cleverer heads than my own to step in and subdue the ill-feeling.

As for me, I am looking forward to the summer now more than ever. For a chance to have a pint or three with Liverpool supporting mates without our teams encroaching into the conversation. A chance to be civilised without twenty-two men kicking around a ball making us display the very worst of our nature.

from FootballFanCast.com http://bit.ly/2EjB41z via IFTTT from Blogger http://bit.ly/2JSzbfU via IFTTT

[mancitynoise]

As a match-going Manchester City supporter I cannot recall first hearing the bastardised version of Liverpool’s ‘Allez Allez Allez’ song. Like most chants it seemed to appear from nowhere and quickly it became established as a firm favourite in the South Stand songbook. Personally I have never sung it – or at least not all of it – and there are two valid reasons for that. Where I sit in the Colin Bell it is not possible to even shout out generic encouragement to the lads without receiving a withering stare, as if you’re up to no good. And there is a line in the song that has never sat right with me.

That is not to say that I didn’t find – and still find – the overall sentiment to the song amusing. A ribbing of Reds once again getting all carried away and believing a major piece of silverware – in this instance the Champions League of last year – was their destiny. Ultimately they ended up empty-handed while Raheem Sterling – a player who the Anfield faithful boo and hate on remorselessly – won a double. What’s not to like about such schadenfreude? Well, there’s that line but we will come to that.

Before we do though perhaps it might be necessary to whizz through a quick potted history of how the song came to be. I’ll skim because most reading this will already be very familiar with what follows.

Antagonism between Liverpool and Manchester City first intensified from a historic dislike of one another grounded in geography when both clubs became embroiled in a fiercely contested title race back in 2013/14 and the fixture schedules demanded that City travelled to Anfield late in the season. The encounter coincided with the 25th anniversary of Hillsborough and City fans were impeccable that day. They respectfully mourned during the minute’s silence. They held aloft a large banner declaring their solidarity with Liverpool.

In return the Eccles supporter’s branch coach was vandalised with stones on route to the ground. Every touch from a City player was loudly booed throughout. A loud cheer went up when Yaya Toure went off injured.

All of which – particularly given the circumstances – sickened me then and sickens me now and the response (to the latter two examples, not the coach attack) from Reds afterwards was interesting to say the least. Man up. Whatever it takes to disrupt a rival and win a game of football is fair game. Right, okay.

At the end of that season Raheem Sterling swapped a red shirt for blue and the reaction from Liverpool the club and its fans made Figo’s move from Barcelona to Real Madrid appear positively harmonious. It’s a hysteria that has only recently abated. It’s a hysteria that indirectly led to a sustained media witch-hunt of a thoroughly decent kid.

Sometime later Sadio Mane was sent off at the Etihad after inadvertently kicking Ederson in the head. Clearly there was no intention behind the incident yet it was still a red card all day long which made Liverpool supporters’ reaction to it – as if it were the greatest injustice ever committed on a football pitch – somewhat bizarre. Ederson meanwhile became a boo-boy to them for that: for having his face smashed to smithereens by boot studs.

Late last season came the most fractious episode of all when Manchester City’s team coach was vandalised so badly outside Anfield ahead of a Champions League quarter final that it required a replacement vehicle to take them home. It was a hostile ‘welcome’ taken too far and it was one too that was planned publicly beforehand with online flyers doing the rounds on social media. The Merseyside police for their part helpfully informed Liverpool fans of a change of route thus – to this writer’s perception – facilitating the attack.

As for Reds they responded to the holy rumpus that followed with mockery and pride. It was their actions, they insisted that helped traumatise the players and bring about a 3-0 victory for the home side that evening. More so they also deemed to take offence in the ensuing fall-out. There is a Manchester Evening News journalist who still today receives all manner of grief for claiming stones were thrown at the bus whereas in fact it was bottles. The offence taken at this strangely equals that of City’s at having their players attacked simply for arriving at a football match.

Regardless, their progress past City pitted them against Roma and then it was onto the final in Ukraine and, as their continental adventure continued, so their ‘Allez Allez Allez’ song that celebrated their conquering of all of Europe got louder and louder to the point where it felt ubiquitous.

So perhaps in hindsight it was inevitable that, when it all fell apart so spectacularly in the final, defeated by Real Madrid and with Mo Salah injured, a corruption of that song by City fans was always going to be penned. The lyrics to City’s version, for point of reference are below.

All the way to Kiev,

To end up in defeat,

Crying in the stands,

And battered in the streets,

Ramos injured Salah,

Victims of it all,

Sterling won the double,

And the Scousers won f*** all,

Allez, Allez, Allez.

On Tuesday evening I was out having a meal with my wife. As someone who writes about football for a living the final week of the season is obviously a hectic time and I had been working pretty much non-stop. On top of this as a City fan the toxicity between my club and its title rivals had begun to consume me, eat me up. I was banned from saying the word ‘Liverpool’ in the house, put it that way.

This then was a symbolic evening: a chance to draw a line under it all and look forward to a summer concentrating on transfers. No-one sends me threats or tries to get me sacked when I write about transfers.

Only halfway through the meal my phone began chirping incessantly as Liverpool fans asked what I made of a leaked video that had come to light, a video that showed Manchester City players singing the corrupted ‘Allez’ song. Immediately I thought this: if what they’re claiming is correct then not only will Reds be justified in feeling extremely aggrieved at this but a lot will be made of it.

My accompanying thought was of Manchester United’s Europa League win in 2016, a game that took place just two days after the Manchester bombing. That night Manchester City fans congratulated United on social media. The club did likewise and furthermore put up a tweet declaring that the city was united. Jesse Lingard meanwhile in the dressing room celebrations orchestrated a song that included the line: why don’t City f*** off home.

The sheer idiocy of this floored me.

At the earliest opportunity I watched the video and even after a few times it is unclear which players are involved, if any at all (incidentally how can an employee of Manchester City have such a rubbish phone?). That is by the by though. A group of people in the employment of City are shown singing a song that solely belongs on the terraces and even that is questionable.

The furore was swift and predominantly concentrated on two lines, the first of which is the one I’ve always had a problem with: victims of it all.

Within the context of the song the disparaging noun is quite obviously referring to Salah’s injury and the ludicrous petition that started up soon after demanding that Sergio Ramos be banned. Indeed it directly follows it in the song – Ramos injured Salah, victims of it all. In a broader sense it evokes Heysel and the sustained failure of Liverpool fans to take any responsibility for what occurred that awful evening. There are also examples given above of Liverpool fans’ propensity to react to any wrongdoing by projecting grievances of their own.

Yet here’s the thing – the only thing that matters really. When Liverpool supporters hear the word ‘victim’ they think of Hillsborough.

And how can they not when you consider the utterly egregious and drawn out fight they were forced to undertake to right the wrongful perceptions put about by the media and establishment concerning that awful day. The manner in which blame was attached to grieving innocent fans is something that will stain society for a long time to come and that was compounded when those that doubted the miscarriage of justice cast them as ‘victims’. Again that’s a stain that we would do well to not forget.

So what we have here then, should we press pause for a moment is a misunderstanding; an unsavoury one certainly but a crossing of messages nonetheless. One side means one thing. The other side interprets it another way.

Yet should we play on, the dynamic of this misunderstanding changes considerably. Because it only takes a momentary dropping of bias and the grasping of common sense to acknowledge that most people – by which I mean supporters of every denomination – are perfectly aware that using the word ‘victim’ is interpreted by Liverpool supporters to be a dog-whistle for Hillsborough.

If that is accepted what is the using of that word – along with the phrase it has a direct lineage to: always the victims, never your fault – for if not to have the ‘best of both worlds’. By this I mean the chance to sing about a trait of a rival fan-base that you feel legitimately warrants criticism or mockery, while additionally knowing deep down that they are receiving it very differently and feeling deeply offended and hurt as a consequence. If so, what kind of sick ‘bonus’ is that?

The second line that has become a serious bone of contention also concerns crossed purposes. The ‘battered in the streets’ line refers to Ukrainian ultras fighting with Liverpool supporters ahead of last season’s final. Again the context is clear from the song: Crying in the stand, battered in the streets.

Reds ,however, insist it is about the horrendous and brutal attack on Sean Cox by a Roma supporter outside Anfield thirteen months ago that resulted in the 53-year-old spending a long period in a neurological unit.

It’s not. It’s really not and City fans have told and told and told Liverpool supporters this with such regularity and vehemence that you suspect there is a contrivance to project extra, intensified offence at something where offence is justified anyway (it is after all still a celebration of their own getting beaten up).

It is hoped that Reds will perhaps question why City supporters insist on correcting this misunderstanding in such numbers. Is it because they are shamed by it being about Sean Cox? If so surely they would not sing the song in the first place (and it is worth remembering at this juncture that it is not a hardcore minority who sing the song but a large and wide demographic). Is it a ‘trick’ then, with Blues laughing away in private after convincing Reds otherwise? Again, a nonsensical suggestion because football fans don’t work in this way. We have learned from Liverpool in 2014 and through a heavily vandalised coach that the rule is whatever it takes to disrupt a rival right?

More so, City have had to take on board their own suffering when a Blue was induced into a coma after being assaulted at Schalke this season. Lastly – and this cannot be put across strongly enough – City supporters are not depraved psychopaths who laugh at individuals in comas.

Still though, as just stated, the line does refer to supporters being beaten up in Ukraine and this brings us back to the video and Manchester City players and staff singing about this. That’s not a good look. Nor is their scoffing at a fellow professional in Mo Salah getting injured.

That ultimately is my take on this regrettable incident. It’s not a good look and Liverpool fans have every right to be incensed by it.

So where does this leave us? It leaves us with a rivalry that was already toxic now worsening to a dangerous level that requires calmer and cleverer heads than my own to step in and subdue the ill-feeling.

As for me, I am looking forward to the summer now more than ever. For a chance to have a pint or three with Liverpool supporting mates without our teams encroaching into the conversation. A chance to be civilised without twenty-two men kicking around a ball making us display the very worst of our nature.

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLOG TOUR - A Call To Heaven

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Bewitching Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

About the Book:

  A Call to Heaven

Jo Kessel

  Genre: contemporary romance

with a paranormal twist

  Publisher: J.K Publishing

  Date of Publication: January 27, 2017

  ISBN-13: 978-1540490049 /

ISBN-10: 1540490041

ASIN: B01MQU65MT

  Number of pages: 260 paperback /

320 kindle book

  Word Count: 68k

  Cover Artist: Ivan Cakic

  Book Description:

  “Everybody’s loved, everybody’s lost.

  Grief strips you raw and makes you feel as if you’re sleepwalking through life, like the pain will never go away.

  I’m Amy Tristan. I’m no different than anyone else. I’ve loved, I’ve lost and it sucks. I’ve got a five-year old son and an abusive husband. My mother died six months ago and I miss her like crazy.

  I’m the biggest skeptic when it comes to other-worldly stuff, so when I’m told that I can pick up the phone and call my mum in Heaven, I should disbelieve it, right? Wrong. I pick up that phone, because there’s nothing I want more than to hear her voice trickle into the receiver.

  And you know what? It works. I get to speak to my mother. It’s a miracle. If only it could stay this way, with those calls just for me, but someone up on high wants me to choose three other people to make a call to Heaven too. Who should I pick? How can I trust them to keep the phone secret? Making the choice is agonizing – if I get it wrong, my calls will stop. I wish I hadn’t told Daniel anything. He’s this hot doctor that I’ve come to know. But doctors are scientists, and scientists are bigger skeptics than even me. He didn’t believe in the phone. He thought I should be admitted to a sanatorium. Telling him was either the best decision of my life, or the worst. I’ll let you decide…”

  Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/6qQLxZbVs50

  Amazon US    Amazon UK

  Interview with the Author:

What initially got you interested in writing?

I’ve loved writing since I was a little girl. I didn’t just enjoy writing stories at school – I was always writing them at home too, letting my imagination run riot. My family and friends used to love reading what I’d written and I guess that gave me the thirst for more.  When I became a journalist for my ‘day job’ it was like I wasn’t working at all because I enjoyed it so much. And then the leap from being a journalist to a being a novelist isn’t such a big one…

  How did you decide to make the move into being a published author?

A friend of mine in the UK (also a journalist) got a two-book deal with a major publisher from out of nowhere and that made me think: “I wonder if I could do that too?” And so I starting to write the novel I had in me (I think we all have one book that we’d like to write) and a new career was born. I quickly realized that I enjoyed writing a full-length novel much more than the articles I normally write for newspapers. It’s so much more layered, with so much more freedom. It’s an incredibly fulfilling process.

  What do you want readers to take away from reading your works?

I hope readers will:

Enjoy the story

Take something personal from each story

Relate to and be touched emotionally by the characters and what they’re going through

I really hope that the story will stay with my readers long after the book has been finished.

    What do you find most rewarding about writing?

When you start writing a novel it can feel like such an insurmountable feat and making it to the finishing line feels like such a long way off. And so it’s incredibly rewarding when you DO reach that finishing line and have created a gripping arc of a storyline which takes you from the beginning through the middle and to the end, following the journey of its characters. And then, once it’s written and being read, it’s rewarding when you hear from readers and learn that they have been touched by your work. That means the world to me.

  What do you find most challenging about writing?

The biggest challenge for me is to keep on going even when the writing does feel like an insurmountable feat. Completing a novel takes a lot of hard work and you need to be disciplined, persistent and tenacious till the end…because a novel won’t write itself. I think of it like a jigsaw. Each day I add a few more of the pieces until eventually I have a whole picture.

  What advice would you give to people want to enter the field?

Be disciplined, persistent and tenacious (see above!) and develop a thick skin. Not everyone will love everything you write and you need to learn not to take criticism too personally. Remember that phrase: different strokes for different folks.

  Excerpt:

  Everyone’s looking at me. I’ve got the yellow telephone in my hands and I’m not sure what to do with it. I take a seat at the end of the table and lay the phone down in front of me. Beth is to my left, Ben is to my right. Daniel is opposite me. I look from one to the other and feel color flood my cheeks. My gaze finishes on Daniel and stays there for a beat. He nods, his eyes encouraging me. I return the nod, take a deep breath and count down from three to one in my head.

  “I’ve got to tell you all something.” My voice comes out as a thin squeak, but actually I’m surprised I manage to articulate at all. I’m hot, so hot. I lift the hair off the back of my neck, flapping it around to try to cool my sticky, clammy skin. I can’t breathe, I need air. I unlock the patio doors, flinging them wide open. The inside of my mouth feels rough as sandpaper. I’m desperate for a tall glass of water packed with ice-cubes but, when I turn to see six eyes staring at me, I dare not leave to fetch one. I feel like an exhibit in a museum and in some ways I wish I were. I could hide behind a Perspex box next to the yellow telephone with panel blurb doing the explaining for me. I could be part of a new exhibition entitled ‘Incredible Discoveries’. I would share the same hall as the dinosaurs and anything else which took aeons for people to believe existed. I draw a deep breath and continue.

  “You’re probably going to think I’m mad, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  A breeze blows through the open patio doors.

  “What I wanted to tell you is this.” My voice is soft as a whisper. I sense all their bodies leaning closer towards mine, straining to hear. “I’ve recently started talking to my mother.”

  There, I’ve said it.

  I feel a great sense of relief, both that I’ve said it and that I no longer have to keep this to myself. Beth relaxes in her chair with a sigh, leans across and takes my hand, patting it. She’s got wavy brown hair and a kind, open face. She tilts her head sympathetically.

  “Oh honey, you must have tried out that clairvoyant you mentioned. Please tell us all about it.”

  I should have seen that one coming.

  “No, you don’t get it.” I lift up the yellow phone, as if to demonstrate how to use such a contraption. In one hand I take the receiver, in the other the plug. “I don’t speak to her through a medium. I speak to her on this telephone. I plug it into a socket in my bathroom and I’m allowed to call heaven.”

  There, I’ve said it now.

  Nobody moves.

  Not a muscle.

  Their mouths all open, Daniel’s is the widest. I don’t think any of them even realize they’re doing it. As feared, they are looking at me like I’m certifiably insane.

  “I can see you all think I’m mad.” I actually manage to pull a small smile. Now that I’ve started, I feel much calmer. “And, if I were in your position, I would think I’m crazy too. But one night my mother came to me in a dream and told me I could use this phone to call her in heaven and, bizarre though it must sound, it turns out she was right. That’s why I stopped coming to Grief Support Group every week. I wasn’t grieving so much because my mother had come back into my life.”

  The three pairs of eyes grow wider and wider, as if I’m slowly sprouting four serpent heads. I replace the receiver back into its cradle and drop the plug, holding out my hands in submission.

  “You can believe me or not. It doesn’t matter. But the reason I’ve gathered you all here is because I’ve been asked to choose three other people to call to heaven.”

  I sound like a fairy godmother or the good witch in the Wizard of Oz. I do not sound normal. I pause. The effect is dramatic although it’s not intended to be.

  “And I’ve picked you guys.”

  I look at them one by one.

  “Beth, I know how much it might mean to you to be able to speak to your daughter and know that she is safe.”

  Beth nods. Her gaze turns glassy.

  “Ben, I’d do anything to be able to give you a chance to speak to your brother again.”

  Ben nods, his mouth still formed in a perfect ‘O’.

  Daniel is the hardest one for me to look at. He’s not nodding anymore and his eyes are no longer urging me to continue. Instead he’s shaking his head, a slow, subtle movement, but I catch it all the same. His full lips have now formed a thin line. He’s the only one who looks like he still thinks I’m certifiably insane. Hell, he’s a doctor; perhaps that shouldn’t come as a surprise. Part of me wonders whether I should abort this whole escapade and pretend it was all a joke. I’d do anything to not have Daniel stare at me in this way. He looks ready to call the local sanatorium and send them round with a straitjacket. But I can’t abort and I must continue. What happens next is up to him.

  “And Daniel, I thought that maybe you might like to speak to Katie.”

  He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but clamps it shut again without speaking. Nobody else says anything either. They all shift in their seats, pretending to take sips of coffee and look around the room. Perhaps they’re checking out the photos on the mantelpiece above the fireplace, trying to work out if I look like a madwoman in any of them. I pick up the knife. Now I probably do look mad or, at the very least, dangerous.

  “Right, who’s for some more pie?”

  About the Author:

Jo lives in London with her husband, three children and Jerald the cat. In addition to being a novelist she works as a TV and print journalist (Sunday Times, The Telegraph, the Daily Mail and the Express.) If she could change one thing about her life it would be to introduce the thirty hour day, because twenty-four hours just isn’t long enough to squeeze it all in! Many a late night has been spent with a glass of red wine (preferably French) at her desk trying to keep her eyes open long enough to write these stories which keep demanding to be written. If only her cat didn’t constantly jump onto the keyboard as she writes, this book might have been finished months earlier. She loves yoga, skiing, travelling and English custard – though not necessarily in that order.

  Website/blog: www.jokessel.com

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/jo_kessel

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kesseljo/

  Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33120863-a-call-to-heaven

  YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1Q28t30k-o99Ijzoiox11Q

  Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/jo_kessel/

  Giveaway

  Signed paperback Call to Heaven

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BLOG TOUR – A Call To Heaven was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.