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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Mass Effect Romances: Legendary Edition’s Best and Worst Partners

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The Mass Effect trilogy is a lot of things to a lot of people, but we completely understand if you see the release of Mass Effect Legendary Edition as an excuse to cruise across the galaxy looking for romance or, at the very least, the chance to hook up with an alien.

Mass Effect wasn’t the first RPG with a romance system, and the first Mass Effect‘s romance options could most generously be described as limited, but the ways that the Mass Effect games compellingly use romance as both a character-building device and a fun diversion has long made them a favorite among those who can’t help but look for love in digital places.

Which Mass Effect romance is the best of them all, though? While we could never deny you your memories of the time you spent with your personal favorite partner, this is our ranking of every romance (no matter how brief) in the first three Mass Effect games.

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18. Diana Allers

Players will have the chance to romance journalist Diana Allers while she’s working on a story about the Normandy in Mass Effect 3. It seems like it’s supposed to be a Captain Kirk kind of moment, but the whole affair feels…off.

Actually, Diana even expresses concerns that her brief encounter with Shepard could potentially ruin her career. Between the short flirting phase and the potential lingering ethical concerns, this romance just falls flat.

17. Sha’ira

Asari consort Sha’ira is really the only “hidden” romance opportunity in the first game, but aside from that factoid, she’s certainly not the most exciting partner in the Mass Effect trilogy.

It also always felt a bit strange that Sha’ira only sleeps with Shepard if the player says they’re dissatisfied with her gift of words. It almost makes this encounter come across as a kind of a Renegade option, which would have felt better if there was an equivalent Paragon side relationship available. This whole thing just seems like an afterthought.

16. Samara

The “romance” with Samara is hardly a romance at all (at least by Mass Effect standards). If you push past Samara’s code and keep flirting with her, you can eventually get Shepard and Samara to kiss. However, the relationship doesn’t go much further than that.

It’s interesting that this romance is a bit different than the others so far as that goes, but between the lack of a payoff and the fact you’re kind of forced to push past Samara’s respectful initial “no,” it’s hard to rank this romance above most.

15. Javik

There are different types of romances throughout the Mass Effect series, but few are clearly intended to be “romances” that the player’s character is meant to regret.

Yet, that’s pretty much what happens the morning after Shepard sleeps with Javik. While the joke of these two getting together fits into the humorous style of the Citadel DLC the hookup happens in, this is a one-note romance that’s little more than a quick gag.

14. Kaidan Alenko

Granted, Kaidan becomes a slightly more interesting character in Mass Effect 3 when players are given the chance to rekindle their romance with him before a big battle, but it’s hard to get over just how generic Kaidan was in the original Mass Effect.

Even in a game that offered very few romance options, Kaidan felt like a piece of toast with no butter. It’s not really what you want to see in the morning, but you’ll live with it if it’s your only option.

13. Morinth

A lot of fans hate the Morinth romance option for the simple fact that it’s the only one in the franchise that leads to the direct death of Commander Shepard. To be fair, that’s certainly not the best outcome.

Yet, the shock of that conclusion makes this one of the better “one-off” romance options in the Mass Effect franchise. It’s hardly a legendary relationship, but the surprising “payoff” is at least memorable.

12. Jacob Taylor

One of the great things about the Jacob Taylor relationship from a storytelling and design perspective is that it’s one of those relationships that initially doesn’t seem possible. It’s only after you really start to form a genuine relationship with Taylor that the path to this romance becomes more obvious.

Still, the hilariously awkward nature of Jacob’s main pick-up line (“But the prize…”) takes this one down a few notches on the overall romance rankings. There’s also the simple fact that a lot of people just don’t like Jacob as a character.

11. Steve Cortez

As the first male romantic partner exclusive to male Shepard characters, Steve Cortez helped to break a barrier that some fans wondered if BioWare would ever be willing to break. The absence of that option cast a shadow over the first two Mass Effect games, and it’s great that Mass Effect 3 finally addressed it.

Still, this isn’t the most exciting romance, and Steve is hardly the most developed character that you have the opportunity to be with. Maybe he would rank higher if he were introduced earlier, but such as it is, he’s one of the lower-tier romance options overall.

10. James Vega

Mass Effect 3’s Citadel DLC is sometimes called an elaborate piece of fan service, but there are times when that approach at least led to memorable moments that finally gave some fans the payoffs they had been looking for.

That’s especially true of the DLC’s options romance with James Vega: one of those fan favorites who were previously platonic. It’s hardly the most impactful romance, but so far as one-night stands go, it’s much better than Javik. James even makes you eggs in the morning.

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9. Kelly Chambers

It’s tempting to rank this one higher for the simple reason that many players developed a crush on Kelly and didn’t think they’d have the chance to romance her, but the fact that you can only unlock this romance after making some notable sacrifices (and that it doesn’t last long) means it’s a little tough to put it above some of the other options.

Still, Kelly’s popularity, the unique circumstances of your courtship with her, and her now-famous dance certainly elevate this fling above most of the other quickies in the game.

8. Samantha Traynor

Samantha finds herself somewhere in the middle of the romance pack simply because that’s kind of the best way to summarize your romance with her.

The Traynor romance storyline is pretty engaging, has some great moments, and is surprisingly substantial for being limited to the third game. Yet, there are times when this relationship is almost too normal compared to the more dynamic romances in these games. It just lacks some of that spice you get with other characters.

7. Ashley Williams

If Ashley only appeared in the original Mass Effect, she would be much lower on this list. Her sometimes awkward (if admittedly funny) dialog and the first game’s generally weaker romance storylines meant that her best quality as a partner was “not Kaidan.”

However, Mass Effect 3 pays off this relationship in some surprising ways. The game does a pretty good job of building off Ashley and Shepard’s previous encounter with a storyline that also manages to stand on its own compared to other romances. It’s just a strong multi-game romance overall.

6. Tali’Zorah

It’s very hard to rank the Tali romance without acknowledging that some fans are still disappointed it doesn’t lead to the logical payoff: getting to see her face. We do see a blurry picture of what appears to be Tali later in the game, but some players wanted a more direct reveal.

Even if you were disappointed by that element of the love story, though, it’s hard to deny that Tali and Shepard have one of the most exciting, original, and well-developed romances in the Mass Effect trilogy. Tali’s unique physical restrictions and the chemistry she has with Shepard make the better parts of this romance some of the most memorable in any RPG.

5. Garrus Vakarian

There’s a degree to which the appeal of a relationship with Garrus is based on the appeal of Garrus as a character. In other words, it’s easy to enjoy hooking up with Garrus simply because Garrus is an easy companion to like.

That said, the Garrus romance storyline is also pretty strong in its own right. It really picks up in Mass Effect 3 when the shock of starting a relationship with Garrus has passed and you really get to appreciate how Garrus is one of those romantic partners that are still their own character and not just your love interest when you’re around them.

4. Thane Krios

Not every Mass Effect relationship is a happy one, but few are as outright tragic as the romance with Thane. After all, you start your relationship with Thane well aware of the fact that his disease is slowly killing him.

While that whole thing could have come across like a Lifetime movie of the week, it’s ultimately an incredibly effective story that serves as one of the best examples of how pursuing a romantic relationship with a Mass Effect character really allows you to see them in a different light.

3. Miranda Lawson

Look, there are just times when the romances we tend to look back on with the most glee were also slightly volatile. When you’re far away enough from the bad times, it’s much easier to look back on the more exciting moments.

That’s kind of the dynamic that you get with Miranda. It’s not the deepest romance in the game (and the conclusion of this story in Mass Effect 3 isn’t the best), but the many players who found themselves instantly attracted to Miranda for…umm…reasons will certainly remember the first time they figured out how to make this bad romance happen.

2. Liara T’Soni

Liara’s status as by far the best long-term romance option in the original Mass Effect game is already reason enough to rank her high on this list, but her lofty placement is really all about how your relationship with Liara evolves across the trilogy.

As a potential romance that spans the entirety of the Mass Effect trilogy (even if her best moments in ME2 are limited to the Shadow Broker DLC), Shepard’s relationship with Liara is one of the most complete and genuine in the original games. Their romance is a simply beautiful story that doubles as one of the better examples of the kind of choice-based long-term storytelling that Mass Effect was built on.

1. Jack

You’ll have a hard time getting Mass Effect fans to agree on the game’s best romance option, but the fact that most of them will probably agree that Jack is, at least, one of the most interesting romance options in the game is a testament to the overall quality of this storyline.

The great thing about Jack is that you can either choose to engage in a casual relationship with her or, if you know what to do, establish a more lasting partnership that sheds some light on one of the game’s most fascinating companions. The striking differences between those two options perfectly compliments who Jack is as a character and stands as one of the best uses of romance as a character-building tool within a role-playing game.

The post Mass Effect Romances: Legendary Edition’s Best and Worst Partners appeared first on Den of Geek.

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darkblueboxs · 4 years

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What does ‘Viral’ Mean?

Read here or on AO3

Roughly inspired by that post going around about Neil and Kevin as sports commentators.

Requested by @theloveliestfool and @revolutionary-magician

“…and as Thea is in Canada leading a conference on women in sports this week, my co-host for today’s match is Exy Olympian and former striker for the Seattle Seals, Neil Josten.” Kevin fails to hide a wince as he announces Neil’s name. There are a few whoops from the audience at the mention of the veteran Exy hero, and Neil hopes his reputation will be enough to tide him through the event. He’s grown used to the attention of stadiums full of people by force of his Exy career, but sitting opposite Kevin with a mic between them and the expectation that he will spend the following hours eloquently dissecting the ins and outs of Seattle’s face-off against the Dallas Dingos is a far cry from what he’s used to. Neil thought that his publicity agent Carol had learned better than to leave him unsupervised in front of a microphone of any description, but apparently not. Either that or she considers Kevin to be the supervision, which could be an error of career-ending magnitude.

Then again, it’s been a while since Neil’s days of furiously rebuking nosy reporters live on-air; maybe he’s about to discover that retirement has mellowed him out.

“It’s a pleasure to be back in Seattle for what I’m sure will be a great start to the season,” Neil says placidly. Apparently, he has retained some of his media training after all.

“A start, it will be. But a great one? I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that the Seals lost by an unprecedented eleven points to the Dingos last season.” Kevin wrinkles his nose. Neil rolls his eyes, making sure that Kevin catches the gesture. He’s well-aware that he’s nobody’s first choice to cover for Thea, but her scheduled replacement is currently sitting in ER with a dislocated shoulder, and Neil has never been great at saying no to Kevin when Exy is involved. He knows he has no chance of imitating Thea’s calm, professional persona nor her and Kevin’s easy back-and-forth, but he’s not going to sit there and be Kevin’s soundboard either.

“True, but with their star striker benched throughout their last game and with several rookies on their defence line, you could hardly have expected them to-!”

“-and here come the players for their warm-up,” Kevin interrupts smoothly. While the crowd cheers on the arriving athletes, Neil takes the pause as an opportunity to flip Kevin off. Kevin makes a choked sound as laughter rolls across the crowd, and points at the replay screens that are playing a live stream of their booth.

Neil almost feels guilty until he notices the puce-like colour Kevin’s face has turned and finds himself choking back a snicker. “So,” Neil continues as the players begin jogging up and down the length of the court. “It sounds like you’ve already placed your bets.”

“Betting on match outcomes while commentating would be very unprofessional.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Sounds like you’re rooting for your old team. I’m sure you’re aware that impartiality is a vital quality in any sports commentator, Josten.”

Neil rolls his eyes again as pointedly as he can. Only Kevin Day would criticise his co-host live on-air. “Call it a healthy investment in the match’s outcome.”

Kevin snorts derisively at that, and Neil resists the urge to flip him off again. Carol will ensure that any profanity fines ESPN is hit with because of him will come straight out of Neil’s paycheck.

Kevin rattles through a several prepared talking points while the players warm up; shot statistics, playing history, starting players and strategies. Neil is quick to point out when Kevin isn’t doing a player justice – “Yes, Janice had a low shot rate last season, but remember she was recovering from a broken ankle through her last three matches” – and cuts in with a snarky comment whenever Kevin looks set to be going off on a tangent. He hears a lot of laughter from the crowd and assumes that one of the team mascots is doing some sort of routine to rouse them. Every time he interrupts Kevin, Kevin sends him an arch look, as though he can’t decide whether to be irritated by the interruption or grateful for Neil’s input.

“…and with the three minute buzzer sounding, we are counting down the seconds until we get to see how wrong Kevin is about my old team live on-air, so stay with us folks, because it’s going to be a great,” Neil flicks a pointed look in Kevin’s direction, “great start to the season.”

Kevin huffs. “You always did have a talent for talking big, Josten.”

“And you always had a talent for being an ass,” Neil laughs. “Glad to see we’ve both found ways to put our skills to use.”

“Neil, you can’t say ass on-air!” Kevin slaps a hand over the mike, but it’s too late.

“You just did.” Neil says, unperturbed. What are they going to do, fire him? This isn’t his job. “You heard it here, folks! Kevin Day swore!”

Kevin puts his head in his hands. “This was a mistake.”

“And I believe, ladies and gentlemen, that the refs have just bolted the doors to the court. Dingos have the first serve, assuming, of course, their offensive dealer can remember how to hold his own racket.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

Neil shrugs. “He broke three ankles, two wrists and ended the Bobcat goalie’s career in his first season. That guy isn’t playing exy, he’s throwing himself repeatedly at the nearest flat surface to see what or who he can crush against it.”

“…point.” Kevin admits, somewhat guiltily, as the dealer approaches the starting line.

Three minutes in, the Seals score their first point. Neil smiles at Kevin with more teeth than strictly necessary. “Great game.”

“Screw you, Josten.”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Day, this isn’t HBO.”

Kevin shakes his head at him, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

They spend the first quarter bickering, with occasional interludes of actual sports commentary. Neil knows that nothing he’s saying sounds much like the kinds of commentators he’s used to hearing on television, but it’s entertaining to him at least. Even after all these years, Kevin still has a way of talking to Neil like he’s a toddler throwing a tantrum and Kevin is the long-suffering parent, and if anything, it eggs Neil on.

Kevin doesn’t smirk, exactly, when the Dingos equalise at the beginning of the second quarter, but it’s close.

“Wow, looks like the Dingo’s number seven has finally figured out where the goal is,” Neil says flatly, and it’s Kevin’s turn to roll his eyes.

“I must say, his footwork does remind me of a certain striker I used to play with.”

“His footwork is sloppy as hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, you want to make this personal, Day?” The Seal’s backliners crowd the Dingo striker and the ball tumbles from his racket. “I’m sure the crowd would love to hear about the-”

“-don’t-”

“-the time you-”

“-Neil-!”

“-bet Andrew a hundred bucks you could score on him blindfolded. And drunk.”

“What? That never happened.” The referee’s whistle blows, calling a foul on the Seal’s backliner.

“I have video evidence. Do you think the fans would like it? Fair warning, you did not stay standing long.” Neil waves his phone at Kevin.

“Stop causing a distraction! We’re meant to be commentating on the match.” Kevin reaches out to snatch Neil’s phone, and his elbow catches the edge of Neil’s mug.

It wobbles on the edge of the desk and tips, pouring lukewarm tea all over Kevin’s lap.

“Shit,” says Kevin, jumping to his feet. “I mean, uh, darn.” Neil cackles. Kevin gives him a black look. “This is your fault.”

“Oh, look Kevin. The Seals just scored again.”

Kevin picks up his own mug. The black look hasn’t left his eyes. His drink sloshes ominously within.

Neil sobers. “You wouldn’t.”

Kevin arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Neil tightens his grip on the edge of the table. “Kevin Day, I will call your wife.”

“So? I’ll call your husband.”

Neil sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Shit.”

Kevin pours the coffee on him. It is not pleasant.

The second half is far more entertaining, as both of them, sitting in sticky caffeine concoctions, quickly abandon what remains of their professionalism.

“And with that pass, number eleven proves once and for all that a career in Exy is possible even for those born tragically without any semblance of cognitive thought.”

“An accomplishment that my co-host has been demonstrating unacknowledged for decades.”

“I’m touched.”

They both take a five-minute interlude to cuss out a particularly bad call from one of the referees that puts the Dingo’s offensive dealer on the bench. The ref sends a dirty look in the direction of the commentator’s booth and receives two of equal ferocity in return.

The last quarter starts with both teams sitting at eight points, which doesn’t change for most of the quarter. Neil has to admit that the most satisfying part of his day so far is watching Kevin’s haughty, distanced persona fall apart as Neil goads him into cheering on the Dingos. For every positive comment he makes about a team or player, Neil will trade him a negative one, and vice versa, and together they find a strange balance of insults and praise that carries them through the last quarter. With a minute to go before overtime, a Seal backliner tips the ball from a Dingo’s net and sends it shooting across the court.

“No way, no way, shit, where’s the defence? Where’s the defence?!” Kevin shouts, his grip like a vice around Neil’s arm as he’s swept away by the tension.

“Come on, number eighteen, you beautiful bastard,” Neil says, no longer paying the slightest bit of attention to what his mouth is doing. The ball lands squarely in the net of the Seal’s star striker. She spins in the direction of the goal, rebounds off the wall with less than a second on the clock-

The goal lights up red, and for several seconds the only sounds from the booth are yelling.

One of the interns delivers a sheet of post-match statistics to slot in alongside Kevin’s prepared post-match talking points, but neither of them are coherent enough to follow them for several minutes. Neil’s pulse is hammering in his neck as his heart tips around with the kind of adrenaline rush he hasn’t felt since-

Well. Since he retired.

He meets Kevin’s eyes across the microphone. Kevin is panting like he just played four quarters himself.

Neil is the first to recover. “Is it always like this?”

Kevin is quiet for a moment. He clears his throat. “It was nice working with you again, Josten.”

“Do you think I got you fired?”

Kevin pops Neil around the back of the head, and the audience laughs.

***

“What does viral mean?”

Carol rolls her eyes in near-perfect synchronicity with Kevin. “It means that someone edited a video titled ‘Day and Josten’s Epic Roast Fest,’ uploaded it to YouTube – do not ask me what YouTube is, Neil, or I swear – and from YouTube it was shared to twitter, where several of your former teammates retweeted it, garnering thousands of likes and shares, followed by reposts to Facebook, Tumblr and so on and so forth. We estimate the compilation received somewhere around 1.2 million hits within a day of posting, and most interestingly, they aren’t all Exy fans. Search results for both your names have spiked along with Seals and Dingos searches, meaning you’ve not only brought this game under the Exy world’s radar but the non-sporting world too.”

“Okay, and?” Neil glances from his agent to Kevin, who’s expression remains unreadable. “That’s fine and all, but why am I here? Did I really get you fired or what?”

Kevin lets out a huff of breath. “Despite your best efforts, no. I’m not fired. The producer isn’t wild about some of the… language we used, but it turns out we got quite a lot of fan-mail. Apparently, we’re hilarious.”

“It helps that you’ve drawn a lot of interest in the teams, which means new fans, which means more money,” adds Carol. “Greasing the wheels, so to speak.”

“What wheels?” says Neil, nonplussed.

Kevin looks to the ceiling like he’s asking it for help. “They’d like us to make a regular segment of it. Not for ESPN, the profanity wouldn’t slide on daytime TV, but they want us to do some live-streams, test the waters, see if we can hold an audience and take it from there.”

Neil opens his mouth to ask what a live-stream is, but Kevin sends him a sharp look that convinces him otherwise. “What about your slot with Thea?”

“She’s about to be taking some time off anyway.” Kevin’s cheeks turn a little pink. “Maternity leave.”

Neil short-circuits. “Huh.”

“Most people would say something like ‘congratulations’ now, Neil,” says Carol dryly.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“So, what do you think?” Kevin asks. “Ready to make a fool of yourself on a national stage?”

Neil grins. “Can I throw coffee at you every week?”

“And here I thought retirement would soften you,” says Carol. She smiles tiredly at them. “More fool me.”

They shake on it.

***

*Bonus*

Text from Andrew: Did you forget they had cameras on you, or did you mean to give the son of Exy the finger on national television?

Text from Andrew: Sir and King very confused. Can’t figure out where your voice is coming from.

Text from Andrew: If Day kills you, I’m not coming down there to save your ass.

Text from Andrew: Junkies.

Thanks for reading, let me know what you think or hmu with a request!

#aftg #neil josten #kevin day #tfc #andrew minyard #my fic

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mmazzeroo · 5 years

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Whispers of Freedom - ch.1

IT IS HERE!!! 😎

For getting this far as to post this I must thank a few people: @adecila and @tomakeitbeautifultolive for being the first ones to knowingly (unknowingly?) cheer me on. I didn't even know you and yet your encouraging comments made me believe that maybe I should actually try to write this thing. So thank you ladies!

@helloimnotawesome and @callmedewitt for supporting me, cheering me on and letting me run ideas by you.

Last but not least a big thank you to @northernlights37 for letting me borrow an idea from one of her stories and transfer it to mine 💕 and to @afcbrandon for helping me choose a title for this fic.

Big thanks to my sis Val for going over this chapter and help fix my very late night / early morning ramblings + made the gorgeous moodboard. Lova ya, sis! 💖

Without further ado: Read it on AO3 or below:

Whispers of Freedom - ch.1: If by My Life or Death I Can Protect You, I Will

The flames of the funeral pyre fluttered in the wind; pulled and twisted in all directions. Black pillars of smoke blew into the wind, carrying ashes and remains straight out to the sea. Soon there'd be nothing left but the scorched ground the platform had been built upon. Stormcloud had set the pyre ablaze with his own flames before taking to the skies with a heart-breaking screech; leaving no doubt among the spectators how deeply pained the young dragon was by the loss of his rider.

It had been a small and private ceremony. No grand speeches, only silent tears and solemn faces. What could be said about someone who’d grown from a boy into a man while in a deep coma? Someone who’d spent half his life in a vegetative state, while his family kept hoping against hope that a miracle would happen?

While the Queen accompanied the small gathering back to the castle, the King opted to stay behind for a moment. Standing by himself, Aerys watched the last embers of his son's funeral pyre slowly burn out. Now all that remained were the memories of his sweet, little boy.

"I'm very sorry for Your loss, Your Majesty."

The voice - appearing out of nowhere - startled him. It was a familiar one though. Only one person known to him had a voice with the unique mix of heartfelt warmth and cool confidence of a battle-hardened commander.

"Thank you, Major Stark," he uttered. Taking a deep breathe, the King spoke again. "I tell myself he's finally at peace; something he'd long deserved."

"A comforting thought indeed, Your Majesty. May the Old Gods and the New bless the Prince when they greet him in the Heavens."

Slowly lifting his head, the King took in the view. It was a beautiful day at Dragonstone - the sun shone on a clear blue sky with no hint of a cloud in sight. Even the sea was relatively calm. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly, enjoying the feeling of the cool wind on his face. The warmth of the sun was comforting, yet he had always preferred the wind - as had his youngest son. Viserys had loved the wind to such degree that he’d named his dragon after his absolute favourite kind of cloud - Stormcloud.

The little Prince had been so proud when his egg had hatched on his bed one night. As per ancient tradition, every Targaryen was given a dragon egg at birth, and child and egg would spend the nights together from then on. Every other child in the world had a teddy bear to hug at night - a Targaryen child had a dragon egg. Viserys had been five years old at the time and it had been very unexpected for the egg to hatch so early. Rhaegar’s egg didn’t hatch until he was 12, making his dragon, Moondancer, two years younger than Stormcloud. Daenerys’ little drama queen of a dragon, Bloodfyre, had burst through his shell, hissing and growling, on the Princess’ eighth nameday.

Viserys had been so excited to wake and see a tiny dragon sitting on his chest observing him, that he had shrieked with joy - startling the little thing who replied with a hiss.

The little Prince’s squeal had caused his guard, Sir Arthur, to barge into the bedroom causing even more hissing from the dragon. Since then, Stormcloud only hissed at humans he liked - everyone else would be ignored. The two had taken their first tentative flight five years later, no other Targaryen in recent history had had a dragon from such an early age. Sadly, Viserys and Stormcloud would be separated not long after.

"When you arrived this morning, you delivered condolences to the Queen and I on behalf of the Houses Stark and Dayne, so I take it this is of a more personal nature?"

"Affirmative, Sir."

“How many times must I tell you to call me ‘Aerys’?”

“At least once more, Sir.”

The King hummed briefly in response to that, a smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me, Major, do you take personal pleasure in sneaking up on old men such as myself?"

"My apologies, Your Majesty; force of habit.” Without looking, the King could tell the Major smiled. They knew each other well. ”You know us Faceless Men - we blend in with the shadows as with the lights, Sir."

"Oh, don’t remind me!” Huffing out a laugh he continued, “barely a month goes by without a complaint from Lord Baelish about how Jaqen has been ‘sneaking around’.” He shook his head lightly. “I shouldn’t be complaining, however - it used to be a weekly matter until one day during a Council meeting Olenna had enough.”

Aerys began chuckling as he conveyed the story: “She told him that if the Lord of the Vale didn’t like getting caught by a smarter and better predator then either he should learn from it or he could go hunting elsewhere. Either way she didn’t care, but if he whined to her one more time about the Faceless Men’s representative in the Council he could go, and I quote, shit himself.” The King was laughing so hard he’d barely been able to finish his story. “You should’ve seen Petyr’s face. It was priceless!” Bent over, hands clutching his thighs the King was wheezing with laughter.

A warm, firm hand gripped his shoulder. No words were exchanged but Aerys understood the concern implied, nonetheless. So, he straightened himself back up and took in a few deep breaths of fresh air to steady himself, the Major’s hand still resting on his shoulder. Gently, he removed it and gave it a tight squeeze.

“I’m alright, Lyanna. I promise.”

Lyanna answered with her signature warm smile and a curt nod before stepping away.

“‘Lord’ Petyr Baelish.” She spit, every word coated with venom. “Whatever You do, Your Majesty, I urge You to be careful around him in every aspect.”

“I trust him about as far as I can throw him.” The King snorted, “but without proof of any wrongdoings my hands are tied. Even Jaqen hasn’t found anything.”

“As member of the Council, Colonel H’ghar’s task is to collect intelligence reports from the kingdom regions and assess security threats etc., not to investigate individual cases, Sir.”

“Correct, so do you have any suggestions, Major?”

“Perhaps You should have someone else look into it, Sir.”

“Yes… I should definitely have someone look into it,” the King replied thoughtfully.

“Say the word and someone will.”

“Consider the word said.”

“Consider the deed done, Sir.”

The two of them exchanged a knowing look before the King circled back to the matter of Olenna Tyrell:

“Not once have the Queen and I regretted our decision to make ‘the Queen of Thorns’ our Hand. That particular day though, oh that was one of her finer moments!” Aerys chuckled. “She’s heading a Council meeting as we speak. Thankfully, she’s handled the press as well the past couple of days...” His eyes drifted back to the few remaining embers.

“—with her usual velvety gloved iron-fist, Your Majesty, making it clear that no member of the royal family would be taking part in the media’s 24/7 tributes to Prince Viserys.”

Once again, he could hear the smile in Lyanna’s voice, enjoying whatever the Hand of the Monarchs must’ve said at the press conference. It was no secret that Olenna wasn’t a fan of the media. However, she tolerated the more serious media houses who did their due diligence, researched thoroughly, and brought facts and information to the masses. They were few and far between these days though. The tabloids on the other hand...well, the old Tyrell had famously told them to ‘piss off’, so no doubt she must’ve told them something similar this time around if the Major’s reaction was anything to go by.

“That bad?”

“They’ve been running almost non-stop stories about ‘the Little Hero Prince’, Sir.”

The King snorted and glared at the scorched dirt a short distance from where he and Lyanna stood before turning on his heels, moving swiftly back towards the castle with Lyanna following suit.

“They are not wrong to call him that, but….” Aerys stopped in his tracks and turned to face Lyanna. “Do they not know how many they hurt by repeating it for days on end? Do they not know the pain they inflict again and again AND AGAIN?!”

The characteristic grey eyes of a Stark looked at him, filled with sympathy. If anyone could understand the soul-crushing pain it was to have the tragic fate of a loved one smeared on front-pages, across the news and as a constant subject of discussion by self-declared pundits on whatever tv-show they could get their sleazy asses maneuvered into, it would be one of the Stark children.

Some twenty years ago the plane carrying the Duke of Winterfell and his heir exploded somewhere North of the Wall. The news was everywhere. Constantly. In Winterfell, a horrified widow was left with three devastated children. No one would tell her anything because no one knew anything. North of the Wall was still Freefolk territory and no search & rescue teams dared to enter without Freefolk guides to protect them. Meanwhile in King’s Landing a young King was scrambling to get as much information as he possibly could. He personally flew to Winterfell to deliver the unredacted report a week later.

After the explosion, the security in the North had become unstable, and the Duchess of Winterfell had resorted to send her children to safety in the South. Ned, Lya, and later Ben, were the only non-Targaryens to have lived on Dragonstone in centuries. Aerys had come to think of them as something akin to younger siblings.

The Duke of Winterfell had been of the old school, so poor 16-year-old Eddard Stark had not been taught the ins and outs of being a Lord. To make up for that, the King’s uncle, Prince Aemon, had taken the young Lord under his wings and given him a speed course. On his 18th nameday, Eddard Stark was named Duke of Winterfell - a title he still served with honour.

The explosion had brought two major changes with it: Firstly, a peace agreement with the Freefolk; essentially bringing them into the fold of the kingdom but as a Freefolk Reservation, thereby giving them the protection from outside threats as they needed, but also securing their sovereignty to live and abide by their own law - within their territory - as they had required. Same format would be used with the Dothraki approximately a decade later.

Secondly, a Lord, including the King, would no longer travel with spouse and/or heir together in the same vehicle, train, ship or plane. This rule was the reason why Viserys, and not Rhaegar, had been with the King in Pentos when the assassination attempt on Khal Drogo and his wife had taken place.

“They know, Aerys,” Lyanna spoke quietly, softly. For the first time that day, she let her officer mask fall and showed him the heartbroken woman underneath. “They know, they just don’t care. They’ll claim the public has a right to know and thus they consider it their duty to inform.”

Aerys snorted. “Assholes,” he muttered under his breath.

Lyanna looked at him with a lopsided smile on her face. “Even Kings are allowed to cry, you know.”

“I’ve cried more than enough, Lyanna. I’m all cried out,” he confessed quietly. “But I don’t need to be reminded of that day. I remember all too well. I was there! Eleven years later and I can still see my little boy laying there in a pool of blood.” Despite his previous statement tears began burning in his eyes again, and he choked on the words as he whispered, “how am I ever supposed to forget that?”

“You’re not.” She wrapped her soft, warm palms around his own cold, fidgeting hands. “As a King, as a father, as a human being you’re not expected to forget a traumatic event like that, Aerys. What you experienced was every parent’s nightmare.”

“The Queen and I weren’t the only ones to suffer a terrible loss that day.” His voice was thick with sorrow and unshed tears. “Sir Arthur was shot in the back and is tied to a wheelchair for the rest of his life—

“—but he lives, Aerys,” Lyanna interjected optimistically.

“—Drogo’s Khalasar lost their beloved Khaleesi. The Khal himself lost his wife and mother of his sons - one of whom was only saved by an emergency caesarean section, for fuck’s sake!”

Aerys let go of her hands as he began pacing back and forth along the edge of the cliff, highly agitated and gesturing wildly with his hands and arms as he spoke.

“That is why I can’t forgive them, Lyanna! I just can’t.”

Waving his arm in the direction of the castle he continued, “I have an 11-year-old Dothraki boy in there, who does not need reminding of how the day of his birth also marked the day of other people’s death, including his own mother.”

He was back to pacing - now seasoned with kicking random pebbles off the cliff.

“Of course, I know,” he scuffed, “being a Dothraki born in the midst of blood and mayhem is practically a badge of honour for him. As a second son to the Khal he would not normally be deemed important, but due to circumstance of his birth they all view him almost equal to his older brother, Khalakka Najaho.”

Lyanna watched the King patiently as he continued his ranting.

“His father is the leader of the largest and most powerful Khalasar seen in many, many centuries, and yet that same man instantly decided to name his infant son after Westeros’ little dragon Prince.” Aerys choked on a new wave of tears threatening to break through his carefully constructed dam. Taken several deep breaths to steady himself, he continued in a more subdued tone. “Naming Vizharo bloodrider to the Queen’s unborn child was the ultimate acknowledgement of the sacrifice Viserys made that day.”

Lyanna walked over to stand next to her old friend, looping an arm around his back and waiting to speak until she had his full attention. When he turned his head and looked at her expectantly, sadness painted in every feature on his face, she spoke:

“Aerys, you need to listen to me carefully now; no interruptions. Alright?”

“Yes, Major.” A small jesting smile played on his lips.

Lyanna responded with a slow nod before she proceeded to speak in a warm, calm and clear voice: “A ten-year-old boy throwing himself in front of a gun with no care for himself is, to the Dothraki, not only a great warrior - he’s practically a God. To them Prince Viserys died 11 years ago in Illyrio Mopatis’ villa in Pentos. His body? No, but do they believe his spirit left his body then? Yes. His funeral today was a mere formality for the Dothraki.”

Aerys slumped down in the grass as she continued speaking, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“They’d seen him racing horses against Dothraki boys outside Pentos - and win. Khal Drogo himself witnessed him climb onto Stormcloud’s back like the dragon’s some sort of docile pet. To them, Prince Viserys had already proven his worth as a warrior. Fearlessly throwing himself in front of the Khaleesi, he died the most honourable death a Dothraki warrior can hope for.”

The King looked up at her with silent tears streaming down his cheeks, eyes pleading her to continue no matter how heart-wrecking it was for him to hear.

“Amid blood, death, bullets, screams and utter mayhem, an infant Dothraki boy was brought into this world - quietly observing his surroundings with big, bright eyes. Only the most courageous souls are born in such a fashion which lead to only one conclusion for the Khal: that his son’s the reincarnation of yours. ‘Vizhadi’ means silver in Dothraki; Viserys was the little silver Prince. Vizharo is twice-named after your son, Aerys. All of Drogo’s Khalasar view him as the spirit of a Targaryen prince living in the body of a Dothraki one.”

There was no stopping the flood of tears continually streaming down the King’s flushed cheeks. The dam had burst. This was the beginning of the closure he so badly needed.

“Khal Drogo didn’t make his youngest son Daenerys’ bloodrider solely because of Viserys’ sacrifice that day; he did it because he couldn’t imagine a better protector for the Princess than her own brave brother’s spirit residing in his son’s body.”

Lyanna crouched down next to Aerys as she handed him some tissues from her jacket pocket to wipe his eyes with.

Tenderly she whispered, “Aerys, Khal Drogo believes he only gave you back what was already yours - your son.”

Muttering under his breath he put words to his realisation, “bloodrider means ‘blood of my blood’.” The King was gasping for air in between sobs, fighting to gain control of his breathing - and himself - again.

“He was so excited to meet Dany; so excited to become a big brother...,” he muttered to himself. “When Rhaella went into early labour from the shock, I…. I was sure I would lose them all. I was so scared, Lyanna!” He choked on another sob, once again taking to stare into the horizon. “But our little Dany pulled through,” he sighed with relief.

“She’s strong, Aerys. A true dragon that one.”

“Strong as valyrian steel as her mother always says; and every day I thank the Gods I don’t believe in for letting us keep her - the same Gods I curse for taking away Viserys.”

Sat on the edge of the cliffs, staring at the sea, watching Moondancer and Stormcloud fishing, and feeling the wind on his face, he felt lighter than he had for a very long time. Maybe the Dothraki were on to something? As a Targaryen, he had been raised not to believe in any gods. What use were they to dragonriders? But just because Targaryens didn’t believe in deities didn’t mean they didn’t exist. How would he know, anyway? After all he was but a mere mortal King.

The tears slowly started to subside.

“Why have you never told me this before?” His voice was hoarse from crying.

“You weren’t ready, my friend.”

“You think I was ready now?”

She smiled, “no, but you needed to hear it.”

“Always trust Lyanna Stark to speak the truth,” he chuckled. “Now help an old man back on his feet.”

“Uncle Aemon isn’t here,” she joked, jumping to her feet and running across the field.

“You cheeky little..!” Aerys stood quickly to catch up with the laughing Major. A lost cause but he would give it a go anyway.

What a sight the two of them made: Lyanna Stark - Major and head of the Faceless Men’s base in Qohor, a liaison between the Dothraki and the Crown – chased by Aerys Targaryen – King of Westeros and the Nine Cities of Essos. Both laughing and giggling like children as they ran, skipped and jumped around the grass.

-----------

Stormcloud soared high above, shadowing the eagle circling the terrain further below. Jon could feel the dragon every time he warged into the majestic bird. Just at the edge of his mind there was a surge of warmth; a gentle sort of heat similar to that radiating off a small campfire at night. But it wasn’t supposed to be there. At all. Humans and dragons were off limits for wargs, his mothers always told him so. And if he could avoid it, he’d rather not invoke the anger of neither Lyanna Stark nor Ashara Dayne. Nothing in the world was worth paying that price.

Jon had arrived at Dragonstone the day prior together with uncle Oberyn. They flew in from Starfall after having spent a few weeks with uncle Arthur. This was his second year traveling with Prince Oberyn. He had seen the beauty of the Summer Sea, met the Sealord of Braavos, and stared in awe at giants and mammoths. It was a Dornish tradition that the heirs to the ancient houses would spend a good part of their adolescence traveling the world accompanied by a close relative – or in this case, an old family friend. To the Dornish it was considered an essential part of a proper education. How could you expect someone to serve, lead, or rule if that individual didn’t know the world? The only way to know the world was to see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, feel it and meet it head on.

With a rare few exceptions here and there, all houses of any importance in Westeros and the Nine Cities sent their heirs off to boarding school or military academies.

His cousin Robb had started attendance at the prestigious Westeros International School of Education earlier this year. When you’re twelve years old and by yourself, Winterfell is a long way from King’s Landing. Jon remembered how much he still missed his mothers every now and then - and Arya! He missed his little sister every day; missed watching the little troll eating her breakfast still half asleep. In a couple of years she’d join him and Oberyn on the road. Yet, through all these new places and faces he always had uncle Oberyn to rely on. Robb and all the other kids were on their own.

He felt the pull again; like there was a rope tied around his mind and someone pulled at it from afar. Not sure what would happen if he followed the pull, he thought it best to leave the eagle.

Looking down, he saw the characteristic silver hair of Princess Daenerys, sitting next to his body on the grass, giving Ghost a belly rub.

Drawing a deep breathe he blinked his eyes open, feeling the sturdiness of the ground beneath him and the softness of grass between his fingers. He carefully sat back up, slowly taking in his surroundings.

Daenerys grinned at him. “Welcome back, ‘sleepy head’.”

“Thank you for guarding me, Your Royal Highness. It’s very kind of You.”

“Ugh!” She rolled her eyes, “how many times must I tell you to call me ‘Dany’?”

“At least once more, Princess,” Jon replied softly.

She laughed, “you Starks and your unwavering honour.”

“Stark Dayne.”

“Right, you doubled up on honour,” she chuckled while shaking her head with amusement.

Sending him a bright smile, she asked, “where were you this time?”

Jon answered, pointing an index finger up at the sky without taking his eyes off her, “flying.”

The Princess’ eyebrows shot up in surprise as she bit her lower lip and inquired, “did you like it?”

“It’s alright,” Jon spoke quietly, averting his eyes, fiddling with the grass between them. “I see now why mum’s always warned me of the dangers of warging into birds. The freedom you feel up there is incredible.”

Raising his head slightly, Jon found Dany’s face mere inches away from his own; intelligent amethyst eyes brimmed with curiosity as they stared into his own azure coloured ones.

“Why is it dangerous?” The Princess breathed out her question as if uttering the words themselves was risky.

“Because the freedom flying provides is potentially intoxicating. It can pull anyone deeper and deeper without realising. Wargs can become so caught up in the feeling that they can forget who they are; never returning to their human body again.”

Dany lunged at him, slamming his body onto the ground as she straddled his abdomen, keeping him pinned down by pressing her dainty palms on his shoulders.

“Jon,” —she hissed through clenched teeth— “don’t you ever dare go anywhere I can’t follow!” Her eyes – suddenly darkened in colour – flashed with anger…and fear. “I’ll forbid it by royal decree if I must, Lord Dayne!”

“Never,” he whispered breathlessly. “I’d never leave you behind, Dany.”

She frowned at him. “You promise?”

“You have my word.”

She continued glaring at him, so, with a smirk playing on his face, Jon clarified teasingly, “doubled up on honour, remember?”

Next thing he knew Dany’s mouth was on his. So soft, so sweet, and so surprising he didn’t have time to understand what was happening before it was over. Gone too soon.

Completely dumbfounded, he just laid there on the grass, paralysed, blinking up at the Princess. She, in turn, was staring down at him wide eyed, nervously nipping at her lower lip, a worried crease between her eyebrows. He could feel her small hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as she balled up her fists. That spurred him into action.

He shook his head slightly and took a deep breath – as deep as he could with the Princess sitting across his stomach. He gently unclutched her fists as he flashed her a confident smile and said, “mind if we try that again?”

Dany jerked forward but two hands pressed against her shoulders stopped her. Once again her beautiful amethyst eyes flashed with anger, hurt and confusion.

Moving his hands from her shoulders to carefully cradle her face, Jon looked deep into her eyes as he whispered, “easy Dany, I just told you I’m not going anywhere.”

Responding with a shy smile and a barely noticeable nod, Dany lowered her eyes to look at his lips as she slowly leaned down.

He lifted his head slightly off the ground and met her half way, tenderly pressing his lips against hers. This time Dany’s delectable lips felt even softer, sweeter than they had with that first rushed kiss. He wanted to – needed to – do this right.

Slowly, he opened his mouth slightly and timidly let his tongue run along Dany’s upper lip. He figured he must’ve done something right, because she responded by grasping his shirt collar and pulling him closer.

When Dany finally pulled back, they both gasped, staring at each other in awe. Jon had never seen a sweeter, more beautiful smile than the one she was wearing just then. Her heavenly eyes shone brighter than any star ever could, he was sure of it.

Breathless, Jon said “that was—"

“—wonderful,” Dany finished for him.

Smiling softly he could only respond by nodding. Blinking rapidly a few times, he muttered, “I have this…weak feeling in my knees.”

“Is your heart beating strangely?”

“Mmhmm…faster, like I’ve been running.”

“Mine too,” she whispered brushing a tender hand through his dark curls. “Think we should just stay here for a bit.”

Dany positioned herself a little lower on his stomach as she leaned down to rest her dazed head on Jon’s narrow shoulder, placing a possessive hand over his rapidly beating heart.

Carefully, Jon wrapped his arms around her.

Uncle Oberyn always told him that love was like dancing – relax, go with the flow and you’ll find a rhythm that matches the two of you together. Jon wasn’t sure this could be compared to any kind of dancing he’d done, but if their matching heartbeats were any indication he’d say he and Dany had found their own unique rhythm. Gradually, he felt her breathing slow down as did his own.

“I like it here.” Dany’s quiet voice broke his musings.

He chuckled, “good, it’s your home after all.”

“No, I mean,” she raised her head slightly and padded his shoulder with her hand, “I like it here,” before resting her head back down.

“I like you here as well,” Jon confessed quietly resting a cheek against the top of her head.

Their peaceful little bubble was sadly burst when Ghost came running, joyously yapping at a hissing Bloodfyre who was flying just a few feet above the direwolf pup.

Dany shot up like a rocket. “Bloodfyre stop it! Behave!” The black and red dragon hissed and growled in response, yet still landed next to the silver-haired girl currently glaring at it.

Jon was amazed at how quickly the Princess transformed from the soft and tender girl he’d just had in his arms a few seconds ago, to this assertive dragon commander standing in front of him.

“Ghost, here!” The pup, a little more than a year old, obeyed his command without hesitation. “Maybe if he gets his tail zinged he’ll learn not to disturb a dragon,” Jon laughed, scratching the snow white direwolf behind its ear as he got back up on his feet.

Sitting next to her, Bloodfyre was exactly as tall as Dany. He was almost pitch-black with crimson red horns and spine, and spatters of red on his wings. At three, he was the youngest of the dragons currently residing on Dragonstone. The other dragons lived in and around Valyria where there was food and space available to them without the majestic creatures causing too much disturbance. However, despite being the younger – or perhaps because of it – Bloodfyre was the biggest drama queen; always making a big entrance hissing, screaming and growling, and spitting fire whenever he could get away with it. No hint of stealth – yet. He still curled up in Dany’s bed at night, but it’d be a matter of time before he’d have to stay on the floor, and in a few years he’d have to stay outside permanently.

She sent Jon an amused look before turning to Bloodfyre and speaking with more authority than he’d ever heard from her, “—and this guy needs to stop spitting fire at everyone and everything that he doesn’t like!”

Bloodfyre huffed and looked away – almost as if trying to give the impression that he wasn’t even paying attention. Jon knew from his mum’s stories from her years at Dragonstone, that dragons had very different personalities, just like humans, however, he never thought he’d find it this comical to see up close.

He bent down, picked up a stick and threw it as far as he could as Ghost was off in a jiffy to chase the stick - tail wagging and tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, but completely silent. Stealth.

Once again, Jon felt the humming, burning sensation in his mind. Stormcloud had been cruising the skies above them the whole time.

For a bit, he’d thought – and hoped – the buzzing in his head was from being close to Dany, but now he was almost certain it was exclusively due to the big dragon hovering above.

The few times Jon had been to Dragonstone before he’d of course seen Stormcloud around the island, admiring him from afar. He was a mighty and gorgeous beast; even looked like a storm cloud – blue coloured back, gradually turning a dark grey towards the dragon’s underside and wings. Jon had never been close to him though, and he’d never felt this observed and scrutinised either. He didn’t like the feeling.

It started after he had warged into Ghost this morning. Yesterday he’d spent the day making friends with the eagle, Storm – the great bird had told Jon he liked riding them so that’s what Jon had named him. In his sleep, he must’ve slipped into Ghost because in the early morning hours he’d been out by the dragons’ nests. He remembered the smell of burnt flesh and charred bones; definitely not a pleasant one. Moondancer hadn’t paid any attention to Ghost, but Stormcloud…he’d looked right at him. It had spooked both Jon and Ghost and the pup had quickly run back to the castle. When Jon woke the direwolf slept by his feet.

Having sent Bloodfyre off, Dany walked over to Jon again. Taking a step closer, she took one of his hands and sandwiched it between both of her smaller ones.

“Major Stark, Prince Oberyn, Mama and Papa talked to me yesterday, when you were out here by yourself.”

Jon watched her stare at their hands, patiently waiting for her to continue.

“They asked me if I’d like to come travel with you and uncle Obi before I start attending school in King’s Landing next year.” She threw him a nervous glance before quickly adding, “just for a bit.”

He placed his other hand on top of hers and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“But..,” she sighed, “I wouldn’t be joining alone,” she added apologetically.

Jon leaned in and laid a tender kiss on her forehead before pulling her in for a hug. “Will Vizharo and Sir Jaime be joining us then?”

He could feel her nodding.

“Major Stark mentioned something about sending her second in command to join us in Pentos.” Her voice was muffled by his arm.

Trying to contain his excitement, Jon took a steadying breath before asking, “We’re going back to Essos?”

“Oberyn mentioned something about Meereen.”

“Have you ever been before?”

Dany shook her head slowly.

“I’m sure you’ll love it! You’ll love Captain Tarth as well – she’s great.” He laughed, “—and then you won’t have to be all alone with us guys.”

She laughed out loud, “that would’ve been awful!”

Before Jon could respond, there was a thunderous noise just above them as the ground started quaking. Looking behind him, he saw Stormcloud towering over them, eyes fixed squarely on him.

The enormous dragon tipped its head slightly from side to side and Jon knew he was being sized up – he just didn’t know what for or the reason behind it.

The buzzing in his head returned. It was as if he’d stuck his head inside a beehive. The heat was back too, making him feel like his head was burning from the inside out.

Letting go of Dany, he fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. “Argh!”

“Jon!” Dany shouted, worried. “HELP! SOMEBODY, HELP!” She yelled desperately, looking around.

Instantly, Vizharo came running full speed from behind a small hill. “Princess! What’s the matter?!”

“Find Major Stark. NOW!! And uncle Aemon!”

Vizharo was off immediately, bolting across the field to where Viserys’ funeral pyre had been.

Jon had now collapsed on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain with Dany helpless by his side.

As Jon opened his eyes, he saw a huge eye, blue as his own, looking directly at him. He thought he saw pain in it but maybe that had to do with the pain he was feeling himself – head to toe, inside out, like chains and ropes burning, tightening and pulling everywhere on his body and mind.

Stormcloud’s massive head was inching closer, examining the little screaming human.

And, as he blacked out from the pain, the dragon soared to the skies screeching and roaring in anguish and frustration – for the second time that day.

#jonerys fanfic #jonerys modern au #dragonstone #starks #daynes #targaryens #dragons #direwolves #warging

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leta-the-strange · 6 years

Note

Could you do one where Theseus dies and sort of Leta and Newt mourning him. Or some cute theseus/leta moments. Thankyou, I just love them!

Look, I’m apologising in advance. I wrote this as a damn novel when I was in hospital over night when I couldn’t sleep and its so long…I’m so sorry (but I think I covered all your requests?) Literally I made a part 2, this is only half of it. If it’s not a pain med fuelled mess and you enjoy it, let me know if you want the second part. I’ll put a ‘keep reading’ because oml its so long, forgive me. I am so sorry you poor people on mobile if the keeping reading cut doesn’t work. Put me on a damn leash when it comes to angst. (Thank you for sending me this prompt though!)

It could never have lasted…such happiness.

Leta silently and delicately packed up the items – even the half-crumpled up scraps of parchment with hastily scrawled reminders and mindless scribbles – as if they were fragile shards of Occamy egg shells. With her gloves removed and laid aside, she carefully handled each item individually, feeling the weight and the shape before laying it on the bunched-up newspapers that had been roughly stuffed into the cardboard box that had been left on the desk prior to her arrival.

She was well aware and not at all fretted by the stares of the Aurors that were working behind her, awkwardly trying to busy themselves in their paperwork likely wondering why she was drawing out this uncomfortable, awful task when she could put herself - and the rest of them - out of their misery with the wave of her wand and a simple packing spell.

But even they, as brave and highly skilled wizards as they were, wouldn’t dare approach her with this suggestion.

Leta wanted to do it this way. No one really understood Theseus’ strange insistence on doing everything manually. Collecting firewood, brewing tea, getting out of bed in the bitterly cold morning hours to get an extra blanket or a book on the dresser, making little use of the Ministry interdepartmental owls to cheerily whistle his way across the different floors to deliver his letters himself (though he always took the route – no matter how long and ridiculous – that took him past her desk).

Leta had understood though – eventually.

She absentmindedly pulled the sleeve of her dress further down her wrist, doing little to hide the mottled scars peeking out from the fabric and creeping across her hand. It was hard to imagine magic as being anything other than a mangled, twisted thing.

Leta was thirteen before she found out it could be beautiful – sitting cross-legged with Newt, sometime past midnight, with his first incorporeal Patronus a misty silver cloud above them, her hand over her mouth and unexpectedly, to his horror and her embarrassment, starting to cry.

The war had given Theseus a heroic reputation, the accompanying renown and respect, a notable career and a bravery medal (which Leta had found once she worked up the courage to visit, only days after he had been sent home from the hospital, on the ground outside, among shards of glass and a telling broken window behind it) but it had taken so much more.

For all the fame and admiration that he seemed to amass, she was the only one who would notice him disappear continually.

The first panic attack she had seen was after she had noticed him slip away from the celebratory party the Ministry had thrown in his honour after he was discharged from the hospital. The party, she remembered, that he had no shame in unfairly bullying her into attending with pleading blue eyes, messy brown curls and looking as tragic as possible all bandaged up in his hospital bed. She watched grumpily from the corner where she had taken residence for the past two hours thinking on loop what a waste of a nice dress this evening had been, how long it had taken her to get her hair neat and how her constant attempts to be kind to people kept ending up in her being roped into situations like this.

Everyone had started shooting red coloured sparks in the air which exploded like fireworks in the large room which is when she’d noticed Theseus was gone. Leta rolled her eyes, figuring that he’d probably disappeared with one (or more – she didn’t judge) of the women that were practically trying to hang off for most of the evening. She pushed herself off the wall, slightly annoyed at the fact that he seemed to have been enjoying himself quite alright on his own and her presence that he so insisted upon was, in her opinion, completely needless. Leta could have easily, like any other scorned woman, slipped out tearfully or in a huff but that sounded dreadfully dull and she may as well recoup some enjoyment from the dismal evening in the form of interrupting and annoying Theseus just once more before she left.

She searched the empty corridors and threw open the door to a small store room and froze mid-smirk to see him hunched over against the wall, rocking and hysterical, his hands tangled roughly in his hair as if he could crush his skull with his palms. To anyone else it would have looked as if he had completely lost his mind, but it was all too familiar to her.

Even during the worst parts of his recovery, his spell work was still excellent. His reaction time took a while longer to return but he rarely handled his wand opting to keep it in his coat pocket and only taking it out when necessary and even then, he would lift it with a weariness that was well beyond his age. It was the first thing to be tossed aside when he arrived home before messing up his hair and collapsing back on the couch.

Magic had been weaponised so much for him that it had lost any of the beauty it had held before. He had seen the worst side of it a lot later in life than she, but the effects had been no less damaging.

Leta nestled the Foe-glass and Sneakoscope safely between the pages of the old Daily Prophet’s and fitted the tattered pack of Exploding Snap and roll of Spellotape down the sides expertly. She had plenty of practise from this from building and repairing the Augurey’s nests in the woods around their house during the stormy months. Nothing moved around when she tipped the box slightly from side to side to check.

She ran her hand over the surface of the mahogany wood which had been cleared save for a framed picture facing away from her and a name plaque which she gingerly picked up and ran her fingers over each engraved letter and holding it to her chest subtly before nestling it in the box.

Leta didn’t want to linger on the photo frame and instead wrapped it in his faded scarlet and gold scarf placing it on top of the pile and going to the other side of the desk to check the drawers once again.

The only thing that rattled in the drawer when she opened it was new. Another name plaque though this one was shiny and polished.

Sterling Boyle

Head of Auror Office

He sounded awful, Leta decided letting the plaque slip from her fingers into the draw with a clatter that made Auror Hessington jump in his chair. She imagined a balding, paunchy man with sweaty hands and moist lips. That’s what she would have liked to have imagined. She didn’t plan on sticking around to find out for sure.

To her complete reluctance, Newt’s new American friends seemed to have adopted her against her will some time ago. They had been diligent in caring for Leta and Newt and so exhausted in doing so that when the short-haired woman, Tina, found the rare sight of Newt and Leta sleeping, she had covered them with blankets and passed out in one of the arm chairs. Leta knew it wouldn’t be long before would one of them would wake and realise she was gone.

Leta let her hand lay on the desk a moment longer before slowly curling her fingers away and putting her gloves back on. With great care, she slid the long overcoat and then, due it to being double the size of her, meticulously folded it three times and hung it over her arm. She picked up the box, her small frame, dehydration and sleep deprivation doing very little in aiding her with the weight and walked past all the Aurors who quickly starting shuffling papers at random. Auror Netley held an upside-down report in front of him.

She smirked slightly at their thinly veiled disdain. If it wasn’t her maiden name, the colour of her skin, or her unworthiness as a suitable wife for such an Auror, it was surely the way she could carry all this weight in her arms and her heart without so much as a discreet, politely concealed sob.

“MORNING ALL,” Hector Fawley bellowed as he burst through the double doors to the office unnecessarily. “BIG DAY TODAY, BIG DAY! NOW BEFORE-”

The Minister of Magic stopped in his tracks so quickly, Leta wasn’t sure if she imagined the squeal of his shoes or not. He turned from side to side quickly as if assessing whether there was any possibility, he could avoid the attention of the woman in front of him.

As if Flamboyant Fawley could ever avoid being noticed.

“Ah!” he clapped his hands together as if she were the jolliest surprise. “Miss Le-Mrs Scamander! We weren’t expecting you…”

His eyes, full of badly hidden panic, drifted down to her full arms. “Ah! We would have delivered those items for you. Here, allow me…”

Leta turned herself slightly to keep the box out of reach.

“I am more than capable, sir.”

Fawley let his open hands swing and clap together and Leta could hear him practically screaming in his head. He had unfortunately gone through this uncomfortable talk with women before but likely not with someone like her.

“Well, erm…if you need anything…just ask. We’re more than happy to assist.”

“Thank you,” Leta cut across icily. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Yes, well. If you’re sure then…I hope, we all hope, you’re keeping well. Sleeping enough and such.”

“Well enough,” she smiled. “And you, sir?”

“Pardon?”

“Your sleeping, Minister Fawley,” Leta answered. “How are you sleeping these days?”

“Um, I suppose it’s…okay,” Fawley answered, entirely aware of the whole office of Aurors watching him be terrified by a five-foot girl. “Um, but, again anything you need…just send word. Rest up and…all the best.”

“Thank you,” she said with graceful iciness, and her eyes drifted to the colourful tea cup in his hand. “And to you as well. Rest peacefully.”

She heard Fawley tip his tea into the sink as she left and hoped Theseus would appreciate that. He had always enjoyed finding comical use of her last name which had, for most of her life, caused her nothing but misery.

“There you are!” she remembered Theseus had exclaimed joyously, skidding to a stop in front of her desk and nearly losing his footing on his unnecessarily (in her opinion) long coat.

“Here I am,” she replied dully, bundling parchment together with a stapling charm.

Theseus knelt in front of her desk and folded his arms on the wood. She was sickened that, even on his knees, he was the same height as her sitting in a chair.

“You’re looking gorgeously glum this afternoon, Lestrange,” he commented.

“Travers is being especially delightful today,” she sighed before freezing and slowly raising her hazel eyes to him. “You ought to watch your wandering hand, Mr Scamander, before it’s stapled to the underside of this desk.”

“My apologises, milady,” he chuckled, surrendering the hand he had rested on her knee. “I have come to rescue my dearest from her boredom.”

“You mean you need a favour,” Leta said blankly returning to her work.

“More of a joint venture,” he explained. “I have some weary business with the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation who may become a lot more agreeable had he want our meeting over with quickly.”

Leta brightened up immediately. She liked this game.

“You require my sparkly personality?”

“Always, love,” he smiled. “But more so your notorious, though occasionally handy, surname. May as well put it to use while you’re still so reluctant to marry me anytime soon.”

“Goodness, you can sulk,” she rolled her eyes but laid aside her work. “What shall I do?”

“He’s a jumpy fellow, if you just prepare some tea, I think that would suffice.”

“Excuse me?” Leta pouted which made Theseus laugh and kiss both her hands.

“Fine, I’ll make the tea, suffragette, if you can bring it in with that beautiful icy uncomfortableness, you’re so magnificent at emitting and with any luck, I can steal you from here early…”

“Lestrange! I don’t hear the dulcet sounds of work being done!” her boss shouted from his open office door, not looking at her but clearly noticing the absence of stapling, paper shuffling and the scratching of a quill. “Get back to it or you’ll be selling your body in the Prophet for rent money.”

Leta smiled and grabbed Theseus’ wrist to prevent him from standing up and going full Gryffindor. “Please don’t kill my boss. He’s the only person here who treats me the same as he does everyone else. Terribly.”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Leta walked out into the bustling street. It still seemed so inexplicable to her, that the sun was still hanging in the sky, that everyone was going about their day as if the world had not been viciously ripped in two – before and after.

Leta realised absentmindedly that she ought to collect Theseus’ car from one of the side streets. Another time, perhaps. Maybe she could ask Newt’s Muggle friend for help. Theseus, and his fascination for tinkering with Muggle things, had some time ago impulsively decided to get and learn to drive a real Muggle car.

Leta was reading and walking along the footpath to her old flat after work one evening and Theseus pulled up in the noisy absurd thing beside her, accidentally bumping into the curb, causing her to jump and drop her book, and the milk and the bag of apples she had bought.

“Lestrange!” he yelled cheerily. “Want to go for a ride?”

“Not even if it would cure dragon pox, Scamander,” she replied, scooping up her belongings – the milk unsalvageable – and walking off. The next day at work there was a new bottle of milk on her desk.

Even afterwards, she could never fully embrace this strange joy of his for herself. It was certainly handy for the purpose of pulling her into the back seat of during their breaks to kiss her under she was dizzy but apart from that, she found it not at all a desirable mode of transport. She also hated broomsticks, Apparation, Floo Powder and portkeys and would avoid them to the best of her ability due to the unbearable waves of motion sickness that would undeniably follow.

Mrs Scamander, who had never been sick a day in her life and never let Leta or her two sons forget it, used to tell Leta, as she would hand her a paper bag when Newt half carried her off the Hogwarts Express, it was all psychological and that as soon as she fell for a boy cute enough she wouldn’t get sick at all when he was flying her around on the back of his broomstick. The only time she wouldn’t get sick was on a Thestral or a Hippogriff.

It turns out Muggle cars were not an exception either as an unconvinced Theseus found out when he jogged around chivalrously to open Leta’s door and ended up with vomit on his shoes.

She had certainly improved over the course of the next few years and had even started to let Theseus teach her the very basics of driving – only around the empty gravel path near their house – she thought she may have been getting better, but she supposed it didn’t matter now.

Despite her distaste for it, Leta rather decided disapparating would be preferable to being tracked down and dragged back by Tina Goldstein and found an empty street to do it from.

She imagined very clearly in her mind the small clearing that they used to apparate and disapparate from. Knowing how she struggled with apparation and to make visualising the place easier for her, Theseus had conjured a patch of colourful wildflowers that, over time, had spilled out around the mossy rock she would often sit and read on.

Leta felt the soft grass under her knees which had buckled and collapsed as she was violently thrown on to the ground. She had a good enough hold on the box that it didn’t leave her arms thankfully though she put it aside carefully, so she could rest her head on the ground for a moment and let the horrible dizziness pass.

It was still a little walk to their house as Theseus had made it so. This was the closest point you could apparate to and even if one did, it was nearly impossible to locate if you didn’t know precisely how to navigate yourself through the thicket of woods.

A clabbert, dangling from a branch by its green tail, dropped on to Leta’s shoulder as she walked underneath the trees and curled up against her neck. She felt a pang of guilt at her prolonged absence. She had skirted around having creatures as pets, but she certainly couldn’t be held responsible if they all decided to take residence around their home. Leta had, not at all as sneakily as she had thought, made the conditions perfect for all manner of creatures enough so that they could be completely self-sufficient. Though she had worried she may had babied them a little too much and it was one of the reasons she had decided to escape while everyone was sleeping.

Leta walked along the path that led to the house Theseus had built out of what could nearly be described as ruins of a cottage, rather experimentally with his own hands which had seen her foot go through the porch step more than a few times. Besides the twinkle lights leftover from their wedding that she had been too short to pull down completely and left half dangling and half piled on the floor, everything was perfectly in place, suspended in time, and it was surreal to remember her life was not how it was the last time she had stood here little over two months ago.

The window frames with glimpses of cream coloured curtains, the flowering vine climbing frothily up the stone walls, a ball she used to entertain the Hippogriffs if they ever wandered out, and two pairs of muddy boots left beside a table and bench strewn with cushions and blankets. Leta sighed as she saw an empty cup and a small pile of books on the table that had clearly been rained upon and weathered in her absence.

Leta fumbled with her wand among everything she was carrying, careful not to disturb the clabbert now snoozing in between her neck and the dip of her collarbone, and tapped it against the lock. “Alohomora,” she uttered, and she heard the distinguishable click.

“Okay, listen to me, Miss Lestrange, because I am a visionary,” Theseus said standing in the doorless doorframe, covering Leta’s eyes with his hands before releasing her.

He immediately started his pitch before she could draw a breath to comment. “Imagine sunlight flooding through the hallway because of the windows we’ll put here and here. Imagine this -” he gestured to what was a half knocked down wall that reached Leta’s waist. “– as a wall again, obviously, but painted a nice colour. Maybe yellow, your favourite. Or we can keep it as stone if you like.”

Leta went to take a step and felt the ground crunch beneath her shoes. She looked down to see the floor was simply the dirt and patches of weeds that he had blindly led her through moments ago.

“This will be floorboards soon enough – or carpet – though I think floorboards will be more conducive to all the mud you’ll inevitable track in from your adventures outside that you’ll do your best to keep from me. We’ll put a table here with flowers and letters and an umbrella stand here. We’ll hang photographs of our adorable children along this hallway here – not those horrible professional portraits we were all made to do – real photos of them doing child things.”

Leta tried not to laugh at Theseus having to resort to ‘child things’ rather than offering an example of what a child may enjoy and remembered him pretending to read the Daily Prophet thoughtfully while barely understanding the contents while her and Newt played outside, emptying Theseus’ bottles of ink to use as specimen jars.

Theseus continued with his visualisation and she tried to imagine but she was suffering from a bad cold and forgotten to take Pepper-Up Potion this morning, the leftover nausea and dizziness from carsickness was still swirling about in her stomach and her eyes were all watery and sore. Theseus caught her shoulders when she tripped over a hammer that had been clearly been thrown in frustration one day.

Leta looked at the disaster of a project and all the Muggle tools that littered the area and turned around in his arms to stare up at him lovingly with amusement and incredulity. “You’re out of your mind, Scamander.”

“Well, I find my mind is a rather overrated place to be,” Theseus scooped her up with a chuckle and spun her around much to her, and her stomach’s, protest.

But, to his credit (and maybe a little magical help from Leta without his knowledge), it was exactly as he had described it.

The sunlight, the cluttered hall table, the floorboards shining gold, a hat stand filled with hats and scarves. Leta hung his coat on one of the hooks on the hatstand, which the clabbert climbed into the pocket of to snooze, and placed the box down on the table. She continued down the hallway, not stopping, only touching things with a vague caressing fingertip. She glanced briefly at the framed photos, trailing her finger along the wooden frames that had accumulated some dust. Most of them were empty – he had specifically reserved certain ones for photos that would now never be taken – and she didn’t quite feel up to having to face herself beaming like a naïve idiot. She glanced up at the last frame – Newt’s ‘Wanted’ poster. Somehow it felt like his uncharacteristically gloomy scowl was specifically for her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered as she walked into the living area. It was a lovely open space, so they could see each other from the kitchen or dining room and see out into the back garden. It had been Leta’s idea, all those years ago. She had sketched it on a napkin at the Leaky Cauldron one evening after work and held it up with a proud smile. “You’re not the only visionary around here!”

Leta was not smiling by the time she reached their bedroom at the top of the stairs. She was hyperventilating.

She stood in the familiar bedroom looking for something – anything – that belonged to Theseus. There was no sign of him. No pile of books on his bedside table. No cylindrical columns of sickles taken from his pocket. No ties draped over the chair. Not even a lone crumpled shirt or sock that she was always reaching with stretched fingers for under furniture, eventually resorting to accio.

Leta and Theseus were both messy people despite how orderly her husband appeared. Their clothes were usually tangled together on the floor in messy embraces before washing day. No number of hatstands or clutter-specific tables were quite enough incentive to store things appropriately. Leta thought it might be the former Keeper in him, but he always felt it necessary to toss things across a room rather than walk, what would be in his large steps, a few paces instead.

She threw open their wardrobe to find it mostly empty with heavy wooden hangers, a few containing just her clothes. She longed to see just one of Theseus shirts. Even a boring work shirt or an old Quidditch t-shirt or a large cosy knitted sweater. She would wrap its sleeves around her like his arms and bury her nose in the collar like a lovesick teenager.

As she closed and leaned against the wardrobe door and looked around the room, a feeling of panic exploded in her chest, she realised how clean it was.

Her mother-in-law.

Mrs Scamander had channelled her wave of grief into pedantic tidiness and helpfulness and in doing so, eradicated any sign of Leta’s husband’s existence from their room…

Their room? Her room.

He’s dead, Leta! You stupid girl!

She looked down at her hands to find them shaking. The glass in the bedroom window rattled and the wind of her own creating to violently lash about the room knocking everything over. Her hair became undone and whipped around her face as she sunk to the floor and wrapped her arms around her body to try and contain her feelings before she ended up blowing the house apart, knowing there wasn’t anyone to talk her down from it this time.

Her touch fell upon something cool and smooth on her finger and she was reminded, as she looked down at her wedding band, that he was real, and she was real, and she wasn’t losing her mind. She was married to Theseus Scamander. No domestic hurricane of a mother-in-law, newly appointed, paunchy Head Auror, or Grindelwald or his murderous, maniacal followers could take that at least.

He may not be alive, but they were still married, weren’t they?

Leta let out a tiny pained gasp as a word surfaced to her mind.

Widow.

She was a widow now. It was so ridiculous she could have laughed and sobbed at the same time. Widows were blissfully old and grey and possessed decades of memories. She wasn’t old and grey (or blissful for that matter). She was twenty-nine. And although she did have many years of memories that she may one day be able to think back on without closing in on herself, she had been married for such a short time. She was still picking bits of flower confetti out of her hair, shoes, and belongings sporadically.

The grief she had carefully placed aside since a grave looking Auror had interrupted her and Newt chasing an injured crup in Scotland a few weeks ago, poured out and winded her in the chest like a stunning spell. It was so vicious that uncontrollable nausea hit her in the stomach with equal force. She stood up and ran to the adjoining bathroom where she was more violently sick than she’d ever been in her life.

Leta couldn’t even stop when she heard the front door slam followed by the familiar pattern of rushed, clumsy footsteps taking the stairs two at a time and then hopping over the mess of discarded items her emotions had scattered across the floor.

“Leta!” she heard the most familiar voice in the world from the doorway, halfway between a worried gasp and a relieved sigh. Newt’s world had come crashing down rather swiftly as he fell to his knees upon hearing of his brothers’ fate and sobbed into Leta’s shoulder when she had slowly knelt beside him. The following weeks were the worst of his life and to add to it, he, and the rest of the group, had been cautiously tiptoeing around Leta, who had been acting relatively normal, and waiting assiduously for her careful composure to crack.

Newt slid down to where she lay on her side shivering with her clammy forehead pressed against the tiles. Everything she had repressed suddenly burst open in her chest, enormous weight crushing her from the inside out and escaping in a soul-wrenching wail that bore the weight of decades of trauma. The pain she had once sworn to herself to never experience ripped through her in a way that made her feel like her soul was being separated from her body. She thought this must be what being attacked by a dementor felt like or perhaps more akin to making a horcrux, either way she was certain this kind of evisceration would kill her.

Newt wrapped his arms around her middle and she leaned back into him, absolutely wailing and sobbing irrepressibly. There was no point trying to put a stopper in the devastation now. The rattling window and mirror shattered, and Newt turned them slightly to shield her, the glass bouncing off his back and on to the tiles which had started to crack and peel away from the floor. A more rational person would have run but this was Newt who just squeezed her tighter. Newt who had very little sense of self-preservation but a huge sense of duty to broken creatures. He had tended to wounded dragons and cooed a distressed erumpents to sleep, but far more impressively, he’d done this time after time when her agony or fright took hold though not for many years now. But, just as it had worked when they were younger, he managed to calm her before any more damage could occur.

After what seemed like hours of Newt rocking her and soothing her til his lips were dry and her crying til her throat was hoarse and she was dizzy from it, she finally went floppy against him. He leaned forward to see if she had passed out, but she was still awake, her breath shuddering and her chest still contracting erratically. The light in the room was slowly dimming as the sun slowly sunk down in the sky bathing the room in a warm, peachy orange. Leta probably would have found it extremely comforting and pretty…before. Now she just found it audacious. How dare the sun set yet again on a world without him?

Newt had propped her up against the bathtub and cast a silent spell that swept the shards of glass and broken tiles in to a corner before sitting against the opposite wall and resting his shoes against the bathtub next to her.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while until Newt noticed tiny droplets of blood on the floor beside her.

“You’ve splinched your fingers,” he croaked and leaned forward to examine her hand. Leta looked down at the bloodied fingertips and missing fingernails and then closed her first.

“I…didn’t notice.”

“I have some dittany in my case…”

“It’s not so bad,” she reassured wearily, and Newt frowned in a displeased, determined way she hadn’t seen on him for the longest time.

“I have to take care of you.”

Leta scoffed but she smiled endearingly. “Do you, now?”

“Well, yes,” he said, the tiniest bit offended at her tone and Leta couldn’t help but bite back a chuckle at how he tried to square his shoulders. “You know, you and I are the last Scamanders, besides mother. Can’t have us dying out.”

Leta shook her head incredulously.

“You’re so dramatic. You’ll get married and have children, Newt,” she said, kicking a loose shard of tile he’d missed. She had meant to sound teasing, but it came out flat and strained. She cleared her throat and tried to continue light-heartedly. “It’s just the shame the next generation of Scamander’s are going to awkward, pale, freckly gits. We all knew it was going to be my genes that would save this family.”

“Dramatic?” Newt’s eyes widened and the first smile since Theseus’ death played on the edge of his lips. “You just ripped apart a perfectly good bathroom. And the state of you…”

“I’m GRIEVING. I can do whatever I please. This is a very exciting time for us, Newton. You want to take a Beaters baton to the fountain in the Ministry of Magic? Because we could do that, you know.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works…”

“And the state of me?” she continued, folding her arms and hiccupping. “I’m an extremely pretty crier, I’ll have you know. Look how big and sparkling my eyes are at the minute. Would’ve made you weak at the knees at seventeen.”

“Extremely pretty,” he reassured playfully. “Even with the snot bubbles and vomit you’ve gurgled on to my coat.”

“Well, it’s not a disservice is it? That coat’s absurd. Blue!”

“Absurd?” he frowned. “You said you liked it!”

“Yes, well I missed you terribly, didn’t I? It was hard having to seduce you into being my best friend again now I have to compete with the baker. Its okay, We-I’ve gotten you a very similar coat in green for Christmas.”

“Your house colour, of course.”

“No, because it matches your eyes and it’s always looked nice with your hai-Why do you always assume the worst of me, Newton?”

“Um,” he gestured in an obvious sort of way. “Probably because I know you better than anyone.”

She paused with a frown. It was a fair statement.

“We need to fix that hand,” Newt reminded her and stood up, his legs numb, and offered her his hand. “And then probably get some sleep.”

Leta hesitated. “I…want to stay here, I think. Tonight at least.”

“That’s okay, I’ve brought my case with me,” Newt said. He knew leaving her was out of the question and he’d already told the others that he needed to go find her alone. She would close up around the others and she tended to lash out when she felt trapped. “Why don’t you take a bath or shower, get the wound clean and I’ll make us something to eat and go set up the spare bed?”

Leta did what he asked and wrapped her towel around herself after her shower and padded into her bedroom, her wet hair dripping into the carpet as she stood tentatively in the middle of it, staring at their perfectly made bed.

“Newt!” she called out and he nearly fell through the door.

“What’s wrong?!”

She frowned and clutched on to her towel, feeling her chest start to tighten again.

“I don’t want to stay in here,” she trembled, nearly child-like and she hated herself for it.

“Sure,” he said, unquestioning, and rummaged through the dresser to his left to find a comfortable looking pair of pyjamas which he tossed at her. “Why don’t you get dressed and come down into the case…it’s in the living room.”

Once she was done, she plaited her hair as she walked down stairs to join him. She put on her gumboots that he had placed beside the coffee table where his case lay, and she put them on before going to find him.

Leta nibbled at the pumpkin pasty he nearly shoved into her mouth whole when she declined and followed him around, absentmindedly handing him things he needed while he did his nightly rounds.

They kicked off their boots when they went into his workstation and Newt quickly tried to neaten the quilt on the bed he slept on while travelling before sitting Leta on it and going to his desk to find some dittany.

Leta glanced at a picture of Theseus he had on display and couldn’t bear it, instead letting her eyes slide over the weathered one of her sitting on his desk.

“I’ve only asked you only half a dozen times to replace that picture,” she whined distastefully, and Newt chuckled, walking back over with the dittany. “It’s horrendous, I look like I’m eating a sour lolly and my jaw hurts.”

“That’s your normal face, Leta,” he told her and wrapped up her fingers carefully. “And it’s a sweet picture. You decided to put my wanted poster up as my tribute on your little family wall.”

“It’s my favourite possession,” she admitted, taking a gulp of the tea he put in her hands, and covered her with the quilt. “It wasn’t easy to obtain. I think w-we broke some international law acquiring it from MACUSA but…” her eyes started to droop, and she felt her words becoming thick. “…it was…definitely…quite…”

Newt went back to his desk where he had some work to do and smiled at the sound of Leta mumbling incoherently, finally letting her head flop against the pillow. He hoped the Dreamless Sleep potion in her tea would give her a little reprieve for a couple of hours at least. He intended to stay sitting across from her the whole time, determined to take care of her. The memory of the confusing and short conversation he had last had with his brother, who had hugged him tighter than ever before, was what made him resurface, just a little, from his own grief. Newt had felt something was off in the way that Theseus asked him, his eyes pleading and sombre, to take care of her. Newt had assumed he was just being extremely serious about making sure they didn’t get into trouble while he was gone but now he was starting to wonder if his brother may have known what was going to happen.

Newt paused in counting his lace wing flies to glance back at his dearest friend and his brothers’ whole heart, who was passed out rather ungracefully. He smiled slightly and then picked up Theseus’ picture, who was smiling at him proudly and placed it next to Leta’s.

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thebuffbengali · 4 years

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ᴛᴇɴ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ᴇxᴏᴘʟᴀɴᴇᴛs

The oddity of multitudinous exoplanets have left astronomers baffled ever since they were discovered. In the unquenchable thirst for discovering extraterrestrial life, many of these recently discovered exoplanets, unique in their own esses, are being studied and savvied. Some have been found to be residing in their parent stars' "habitable" (the reason for it being betwixt inverted commas is lucid and very obvious) zones, some in close proximity to their stars, some orbiting their stars, some hot, some cold, some so bizarre, having characteristics and properties so flummoxing that the probabilities and very chances of their existences are questioned and doubted.

The Hubble telescope is always looking for exoplanets to be newly discovered in the vastness of space. The exemplification of it can be nebulously analogous to the odyssey of a deep-sea diver in a diving bell set out to find diminutive, ephemeral and rare mineral crystals in the Earth's oceans. Now, of course, we know that space is immeasurably colossal to be equated or analogized with the oceans but this is just to make someone picture it in his mind how vast our Universe is and how Herculean and labyrinthine it is to discover exoplanets!

Here are ten of some of the weirdest exoplanets ever discovered.

1). The exoplanet named TrES-2b, located approximately 750 l.yrs from our solar system, is officially the darkest planet ever discovered. This abstruse and menacing planet reflects less than 1% of all the light that hits it, making it significantly darker than the majority of known exoplanets. The ominously dark surface can be partially explained by the aerospheric light-absorbent gases that make up the bulk of the planet. Although astronomers aren't fully enlightened about why it is so abberantly dark, there is another eerily confounding fact about this gnomic planet laid bare and unfolded among the myriads of mysteries our universe bears. This sinister-looking sphere of gas also glows a molten red colour as if it's an incandescent ball of coal alight, peregrinating through the fabric of space. This is because the surface temperature of this planet is an inexorably pitiless 1,100°C!

2). This planet is anything but dark, the exact antithesis of the latter - a luminescently sparkling realm just like an astronomically enormous ball of diamond because it is made of diamond! This planet, named 55 Cancri E, is about twice the size of Earth and a third of it is made of solid diamond. It is very carbon-heavy and it is so dense that all the carbon is in the form of diamond. But don't get too overwhelmed and exhilarated because the shimmering exoplanet is a spectacular 40 light years away from us! With our still-developing advancements in science and infinitesimally insubstantial, microcosmic efflorescence in space exploration delimiting us, traversing such a mind-crushing distance is ludicrously beyond us and this makes Cancri stark inaccessible contemporarily. But, even it we were able to reach this diamond elysium and reach home with an influx of even a minute fraction of the diamond crystals there, the ubiquitousness and overabundance of diamonds will be so immanent globally that this would lead to the value of diamonds plummeting exponentially due to the lack of rarity and proliferation in its supply to surfeit! An avalanche of diamonds procurable like nitrogen would not be that much of an euphoria then! So this sublime realm is best admired from afar.

3). Now this exoplanet seems to defy what you have come across in your chemistry textbooks, looks bewilderingly inscrutable when observed and confusticatingly paradoxical, a pulchritudinous world commingling and coalescing two polarities in synchronous accord. This planet, named Gliese 436b, is a ginormous ball of ice on fire - a planet no one would be convinced about when heard of for the first time and would probably laugh it off as some fictional, chimerical realm from Star Wars or Thor or a jejune joke until they are nonplussed and taken aback by reality! The icy surface of the planet is constantly burning at an eldritch 439°C!! So how can this ever be possible that solid ice is perfectly existing unmelted with fire at such a temperature way above its melting point? Astronomers have an explanation for this thankfully. Well, the planet's gravitational attraction is so extremely leviathan that it pulls the melted ice water towards its core, compressing it into a solid form and precluding it from ever evaporating no matter how much it burns!

4). Next time you complain about the weather here on earth, just stop for a moment and be thankful to God that you don't live on the planet HD 189773b, where it unremittingly rains glass sideways! The atmosphere of this exoplanet is profusely full of silicon-infused or silicon-based compounds and substances, which give it its elegantly majestic, worth-panegyrising blue colour. Because of the planet's high surface temperature, these silicon-based particles condense to form solid glass which descends askew as precipitation relentlessly, manoeuvred and dynamicized by tremendously volant winds with staggering speeds of around 4000mph! Seriously! Take a moment and imagine being stranded on this planet, anticipating the worst - an excruciating death as the unforgiving and baleful, aculeate and sword-like glass precipitation perforates every flesh of your zephyr-like body, ripping and tearing it apart into shreds and smithereens! It maybe way too blood-curdling or spine-chilling to imagine but the way I described it is quite close to how it's gonna end! Horror and agony shall be finality.

5). If you think HD 189773b was hellish and unsparing, you haven't met this exoplanet named WASP-12b. This poor and unfortunate planet is being gradually ingurgitated and devoured by its parent star. It's caught up in an orbit so close to the star's punishing vortex that it has been heated up to extremely high temperatures and its mass is being engulfed up by the fireball at a very swift rate, feeding the star up into a gargantuan, blazing fusion reactor venturing in space. WASP-12b is roughly the size of Jupiter. However, it appears to be larger because the crushing temperatures of its parent star have caused it to balloon up and expand on the verge of an apocalyptic implosion! This defenceless planet, awaiting its inevitable doom on sealed fate and the epilogue of its tragic biography, loses an incredible 6 billion metric tonnes of mass every second! In fact, it's being torn apart so rapidly that it is no longer a spherical shape but an egg-like oblong shape resembling the elliptical orbits of the planets of our solar system when viewed from above.

6). This one is a very fascinating exoplanet named Gliese 581c. This planet is very special because it's being voted by the scientific community as one of the top three exoplanets likely to support alien life! And what, in the universe, titillates astronomers more than this? Although Gliese is surmised to harbour extraterrestrial life, there are many features and facts about this planet that makes it very different from our blue home. This planet orbits a red dwarf star �� while the Earth orbits a main sequence star ☀️. On Gliese, if you gazed up at the horizon waiting for the star-rise, you'd get a magnificently breathtaking and literally "out-of-the-world" stupefying sight of a lustrous and flaming red glow in the sky as the red dwarf star comes into your field of view gradually and enthrals you in its alluring emergence. The sky would continue to look a deep crimson red colour throughout the day until star-set. The planet is also tidally locked i.e. it doesn't rotate on its axis, just like the moon's relationship with our Earth. One side of the planet is always facing away from its star and the other always facing towards it. The side that always faces the red dwarf is so blisteringly hot that if you were to stand there, it would melt you alive into soup and vaporize you completely! However, the opposite side of the planet, facing away from the star, is so astonishingly cold that you'd instantly freeze to death! Limiting yourself to assume that some alien life forms will be similar to those here on Earth, you must be wondering how could this violently harsh planet support life. Well, there's a narrow strip of land halfway between the hot side and the cooler side that has just the optimum temperature to support alien life. That central area has been assumed to be the exoplanet's habitable zone. Care has to be taken to make sure the living organisms do not make their way to either of the two extremes to circumvent the torment of getting roasted or frozen to cessation! In 2008, a message was sent by scientists on Earth directly at Gliese 581c and it is expected to reach the planet in 2029.

7). This planet is located in the Scorpio's constellation and known as WASP-17b. One feature that makes this planet so striking and stellar is its sheer size. It is 1.9 times the size of Jupiter, the king of the planets in our solar system. This planet is so prodigious that it is not supposed yo exist theoretically. It kind of seems to break the "laws" of how large a planet can be. For its size, it also has an extremely low density. Because of this, it fits into a very unique class of planets called "puffy planets"! These planets are very large and their densities ate very low in juxtaposition. But it's not the only thing about WASP-17b that makes it so idiosyncratic. It also has a retrograde orbit i.e. it rotates at an opposite direction to its host star.

8 ). You may remember that Luke Skywalker's home planet of Tatooine in Star Wars had two suns. But, as is often the case, reality can be much more awe-inspiring and stupendous than science fiction or imaginative movies. A 149 light years away from us is a planet which has not one, not two, but three stars. This three-star planet, which goes by its catalogue name of HD 188753Ab, ensconces itself in a triple-star system HD 188753. If you had the capability of visiting this planet and be jubilant in surviving and coping with its conditions, you'd experience triple shadows and a sky that gives the spellbinding and captivating view of three different stars of different colours. That'd be one hell of an enrapturing varicoloured show on the horizon gladdening your photoreceptors! You'd also experience constant eclipses as its three parent stars crossed each other's paths. And of course, you'd see very unusual but one of the most intriguing sunrises and sunsets in the universe.

9). Now imagine yourself in the middle of the Pacific Ocean and the horizon seems to be the indistinguishable merging of the blue sky and the ocean. Everywhere you look, there's only water. No sign of land and you're just in between the ineludible big blue seemingly infinite in its hold. That's what it'll exactly be like if you visited GJ 1214b, about 47 light years away from our solar system. It is an exoplanet made entirely of water, the primary liquid astronomers look for in a planet before assuming it to harbour life! They have nicknamed this planet "the waterworld". The entire surface of this distant realm is one vast, continuous ocean and it remains exactly the same for miles underneath the surface until you reach the planet's core which is encrusted with a thick layer of solid ice. But this ice isn't any ordinary ice that you'd expect to find in your refrigerator! This is because this ice isn't frozen due to cold temperatures. The water surrounding the core is under such an immense amount of pressure from the water above on the surface that the water incarcerating the core is totally compressed to solid ice! This outlandish, rare and unique form of ice is known to scientists as "ICE VII".

10). Last but not the least, 470 l.ys away from us is a planet discovered by the Kepler Space Observatory. It is known as Kepler 438b. This is another peculiar planet that has not got its eccentricity from any distinct features but because it is the most Earth-like planet we've ever found! Having the highest ESI (Earth Similarity Index), this planet has an outstanding ESI value of 0.88, making is ultra rare and very special for that case! Discovered in January 2015, this planet has all the right prerequisites for having the possibility of harbouring alien life, according to the scientists. Most importantly, it is a rocky world just like Earth and its propinquity to its host star places it in the Goldilocks Zone (habitable zone). Water is essential to life. Where there is this precious liquid, there is probably life. But in order to have complex life (assuming that we consider other alien life forms to be somewhat similar to those on Earth), there is a necessity of liquid water which, most of the time, can only be present in the Goldilocks zone. So, this planet is highly likely to have liquid water and therefore life, which makes it one of the weirdest and most fascinating exoplanets we've ever discovered!

These were only ten of the strangest exoplanets we've discovered till date. God knows what's waiting for us in the future when we come across a few, among the zillions, which will be far stranger and mind-boggling for us to expect! This is space. It will never fail to leave you nonplussed and humbled, make you ponder on how many other undiscovered secrets are hiding in its grandeur, waiting for us to meet!

⚂PHOTO - Artist's depiction of two neighbouring exoplanets.

∅Written by: Shamsud Doha. /thebuffbengali [Plosker]

0 notes

pinksweatergettingbetter · 6 years

Text

warning, the following has mainly snarky (and possibly furious) opinions on Spirit of Justice. Reader discretion is advised.

Alright, on to part three, where Phoenix’s big fat mouth gets Apollo and Athena into deep doodoo.

QUICK CHILDREN, INTO THE MANHOLE!

SDUFGDGSF YOU CAN ‘MOVE’ WHILE YOURE BEING CHASED

way to ruin the moooooood XD

well athena if its any consolation, smelling like a rotten egg will probably delight sadmad.

y’know. cause youre a putrid egg yolk.

“Once a rebel, always a rebel!”

apollo was never a rebel

you sent him back to America before he could do any rebelling.

>OH MY SNARK IS CONFIRMED BY APOLLO

oh everyone’s met up now

“It was like watching a pair of ostriches bury their heads in the sand”

the FUCK does that mean, Phoenix?!???

“dubious hovel”

whats wrong with athena? i thought she was huddling up in the corner because she saw something unnerving, then maybe because of all the sudden people there–– but it’s implying she’s disgusted by the shitty state of the place?

what, is Athena a germaphobe now??

“He said he hopes you’ll come back and take over this office someday.”

“M-me?”

“Those were his words! He might have been half-joking though.”

I’m not sure which I’m more offended by; the fact that Dhurke still assumed Apollo would make a shit lawyer, or the fact that Apollo does indeed take over. Spoilers. Haha.

“must’ve been because of you, dhurke!”

no it was because of Phoenix Wright because he was a cool guy, once upon a time. also because, unlike every other lawyer in the gotdamn series, Apollo just really friggin loves the law. He thinks lawyers are legit cool and he wanted to be one because he just happened to have a passion for litigating. He’s not a prop in your stupid story, he’s his own interesting person.

“Dhurke was never a hands-on kinda dad...”

you can motherfucking say that again, vore machine.

“...but not a day went by that he wasn’t thinking of ya. That much I’m sure of.”

yeah he sure was

thinking of the favours he could one day ask of him.

“Doesn’t get more paternal than that!”

Athena, you don't even have a dad. Your opinion on the subject is completely worthless.

“(Dhurke... And to think, I really did spend my days trying to forget you...)”

god apollo you don’t deserve this. you deserve trucy and klavier and thalassa (being an actual mom for once) HELL you deserve your ACTUAL, REAL DAD.

“The victim’s passport and any pictures of him were burned up in the fire. Without knowing his real name, no divination seance could be performed.”

So you’re telling me Jove brought every single glossy of himself into that blaze? And after the fire, nobody bothered checking the dental records on the corpse/asking where that neato musician from the other night went?

Once again, DDSOJ police, at their best. If there wasn’t a coverup involved, I’m gonna be pissed.

( My real dad... I was never really interested in learning about him. )

While this is a totally understandable and natural reaction... I really wish–– Actually, no; it’s best Apollo never learned that he once had a father who actually gave a fuck about him. That’d probably break his heart.

“As the son of the terrorist Dhurke, Nahyuta was expelled from the royal family.”

i.... why did Dhurke keep him in Koooraheen, anyway? He really couldn’t have sent him to a happier life in America with his half brother?

huh i think that face-palm is a new expression for Vore Machine. he almost looks reasonable.

“As his son, Yuty no doubt got the cold shoulder at every turn.”

amazing. not only was Apollo abandoned in America in some shit orphanage with zero contact from anything he knew as family, but Sadmad was forced to stay behind in a country that hated his guts. The perfect situation for both boys!!! No wonder they’re both so fucking grouchy all the time! Dhurke, you parental genius!

“Dhurke’s the kinda guy who can become fast friends with just about anyone!”

guess that explains the fandom popularity

“Lol come over n play some jams bro”

“Ok dawg is it chill if i bring my kid my wifes uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Yeah its cool I'm great with kids”

“tight”

“It’s like Dhurke’s done nothing but save me all my life” yeah... from messes he made.

“Jangly Justice”

god. i want to root for Jove but like. He looks like a tool, he sounds like a tool, his stage name is the tooliest thing ive ever heard...

originally this section was me ranting about how Thalassa would never have just ‘stopped looking for Apollo’ when she heard that Jove perished in the flames, since Apollo’s corpse was never found and the rebels were out looking for her to give him to her– but instead I’m just gonna leave you with ‘that excuse is mad weak and the writers need to try harder.’

“You should try on the jacket, Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Look, I can excuse Athena, because she doesn’t know. But Datz knows its mold infested and disgusting. And he just finished talking about APollo’s tragic past. What the everloving fuck is up with this sicko?!

Also Athena, you can’t laugh at him wearing an eyepatch when he just got done wearing one all last year.

“I’d recognize those horns anywhere!”

“Is that really the only way anyone recognizes me?”

cue Phoenix harrumphing from the corner and brushing his spikes

yknow maybe ive mentioned this before but why /hasn’t/ the queen found the safe house? It’s Dhurke’s old law office; that’d be like, the first place I’d check. Its like wondering if Dumbledore’s Army is based in Hogwarts.

I mean I guess you could say the Queen assumes theyre not stupid enough to hide in their old main haunt but... they’re stupid. they’re really, really stupid. it’s been proven like 800 times.

so we just had a ladder convo about lizards?

also what do you mean geckos like to live in houses? i thought they just climbed around outside them. aLSO WHY ARE THEY EATING THEM

... I appreciate that it ended in a Bugs Bunny Switcharoo though.

...And Phoenix ends it with “theyre just a plain old lizard”

I guess Phoenix doesn’t know flowers or lizards.

i really don’t know why none of the revolutionaries think sadmad’s playing the long con. they’ve all just completely given up on him. what if he was pulling a snape??? they talk about trust and shit and yet none of them trust their own leader’s son? shameful.

“It seems like Gar’an has some serious leverage over him”

okay, they suspect he’s being controlled with some kind of blackmail... and yet do nothing to help him? they’re dumb enough to risk their lives doing something like that, but not compassionate or caring enough?? to their leader’s son???? what the fuck??????

aww i missed Beh’leeb. I hope she and her (born/ unborn? cannot tell if she’s pregnant or not) kid are doing ok.

“So she’s trying to help the revolution along... in her own special way!”

that sounds enormously patronizing phoenix, shut up. she’s pregnant and she has to deal with fucks like Datz running around blowing off firecrackers at government officials.

...youre giving the orb to datz.

ill eat my hat if nothing happens to it.

“We’ll attract undue attention if we go in too large a group”

oh also because youre dressed like baby’s first paint set but

“AAAH!!”

“Do you know something about this?” “Nope! Just felt like shouting is all.”

yes, this is definitely the guy who should hold onto the orb for you. also i presented the attorneys badge. guess he has nothing to say about apollo’s proof of profession, eh?

“Yeah... You’d think Nahyuta might’ve cut his old man some slack, but no.” Dhurke you thick son of a bitch

wow. one single flashback occurrence where Dhurke wasn’t a dick. Well, 1/1000 ain’t too shabby...

“What? You came to visit me and you didn’t even bring me a present?”

What, like your plate of ‘my son is NOT a failure” sushi, Dhurke ?

“But I’m not a rebel.”

“Don’t be ridiculous– You’re a member of the defiant dragons simply by being my son.”

HE’S NOT YOUR SON YOU FUCK

If you present him your attorneys badge he jokes about dying happy and apollo makes it explicit that he means via execution

dhurke. that means apollo would die too. stop fucking joking about him dying you prickwad.

Apollo: Hey Dhurke know anything about this necklace

Dhurke: OOOAAHHH!!! OHHH!! AHHH!!!!

Apollo: So thats a...

Dhurke: Hahahahah its a no son give it here

Apollo: Yeah ok i see nothing suspicious about that at all and i sure hope the secret behind it wasn’t important to this case or anything..........

me: jeez i hope that stupid necklace was the last thing we had to present

phoenix, appearance from god knows where: hey maybe ask about the hostage

me: bless you baby. also i forgot you were here

Phoenix: Sounds like the minister has someone you really care about, cause you totally obeyed everything he did.

i know what youre trying to excuse here SOJ staff but no, straight up lifting right out of JFA will never be ok.

“Is there a new lady in your life?” “WHAT?! DONT BE RIDICULOUS SON!”

I’m gay now! Hahaha. But seriously. Nobody wants to date Dhurke.

“Amara was the love of my life, but she’s gone now, and there will never be another.”

cue Dhurtz shippers furiously jamming their fingers in their ears and whistling

what the

fuck is happening

to his aRM

“You tensed up” HIS BROKEN ARM STARTED VEINING SO HARD THAT IT SHOWED RIGHT THROUGH LIKE 2 LAYERS OF CLOTH

THATS SOME KRISTOPH DEVIL HAND SHIT RIGHT THERE

JESUS CHRI

oh there’s something hidden in there THANK GOD THAT SCAREDTHE FUCK OUTTA ME

“Oh I see– so youre hiding a woman’s photo up your sleeve”

oh yeah, a 3D photo. that has bumpy bits. absolutely apollo.

“You don’t need to keep secrets like that from me– You’re an eligible bachelor now. But you’ll... introduce her to me at some point, right?”

this has that creepy ‘parent insists you have a crush on that one kid’ conversation vibe to it, especially since it’s not like Apollo ever had an attachment to Amara to make him see her as a mother; she was ‘dead’ before he could even walk.

“Mon dieu! Are you into younger women, Dhurke?!”

Athena,,,,,,,, athena,,,, Apollo,,,,, he’s

it’s

oh never mind.

“Heh heh. Dhurke, you old dog, you. You got yourself a younger lover.”

ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT, NO, NOT NEVER MIND. YOU HAVE A PHOTO OF AMARA. YOU KNOW WHAT AMARA LOOKS LIKE. YOU KNOW HOW TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PAST AND PRESENT DHURKE BECAUSE THERES NO WAY HE COULD JUST RANDOMLY CUT HIS HAIR AND THEN HAVE IT GROW BACK THAT FAST.

I KNOW YOU THINK SHE’S DEAD BUT AT LEAST FUCKING SAY YOU THINK IT’S HER TWIN SISTER YOU UTTER UTTER NUMBSKULLS

“This is Amara before she died. If you look closer, you’ll see that I was younger, too.”

“Hey. You’re right.”

“Aww, that’s no fun.”

MY ULCERS ARE NO FUN BUT GUESS WHAT NEITHER IS LIFE

“Wait a second... Haven’t we seen this woman before?”

DAAAUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHH

GOOD FUCKING BALLS PLEASE PLEASE LET THEM BE TROLLING DEAR GOD AAHGGDFKAFAGF

i really love that photo though. everything about it is generally just really nice.

wait hang on. they. they just. they kept her around? after her fake assassination? they just–– WHERE YOU COULD GET A PHOTO OF HER?!

EXPLAIN–– THERE’D BETTER BE A GOOD EXPLAIN

“She was confined within the grounds, but she was fit as a fiddle.”

Ga’ran. Ga’ran. Ga’ran. You stupid, stupid, stupid bitch.

“She was being held under virtual house arrest, so I freed her, and we made a run for it.”

“Of course, we didn’t just proclaim it to the people so that they’d realize Ga’ran was a dirty bitch; that would have been way too easy hahaha.”

Ohhh I see. They didn’t know Ga’ran was the one who did it. Except Ga’ran was the one who kept her under house arrest and faked her death so... It’s pretty obviously her? Amara would know that by putting 2 and 2 together? But no... Apparently Amara was suspicious enough to suspect Dhurke of being the arsonist like Ga’ran said, but brave enough to ‘accompany him so she could ascertain the truth for herself.’

hey remember when i said brave. i meant stupid. she was stupid enough to go with someone she thought might have tried to kill her, completely unsupervised. though i guess you'd have to be that dumb to actually fall in love with Dhurke in the first place.

AH, and she was immediately recaptured. Because Dhurke sucks.

Waaaaait wait wait. How long and when did he ‘rescue’ her? The incident was 23 years ago, but Rayfa is 14– and Amara would need the usual 9 months to gestate– plus, the room she’s holding Rayfa in has the Defiant Dragons handbook in there, so it’s probably someplace of Dhurke’s––

Meaning there was a nine year gap but they still didn’t show her to the general public to depose gar– AGHHH. ITS ALL TERRIBLE!!!

“Apollo. We need to grill the queen about Amara when we have the chance.”

Hobo Nick’s ghost: Hey uhh me, that might get you uhhhhh murdered i thought we got over that after von karma tasered the shit out of u––

SOJ Nick: DOOOOHHOOOHOO I LIKE SOLVING MYSTERIESSS

Apollo: hey maybe the baby Amara’s holding is me.

Athena: Nah it’s too cute to be you.

Apollo: ....i just want to have proof that I’ve known the loving touch of a mother at least ONCE ATHENA OKAY???

“Hm? Oh... well, either way, it’s not you, son.”

yeah fuck you apollo the Sadmahdis only love their REAL children

also its Rayfa. it was in the safe next to Rafya’s letter; Rayfa basically identified it as herself when she saw it, it’s Rayfa.

Apollo: wow youre sure acting vague and suspicious about this; guess i’ll just accept it for what it is.

Dhurke: [tells apollo’s he's going to die and leave him fatherless again]

Apollo: [immediately assumes its another of Dhurke’s jokes because Dhurke’s jokes are horrible and always at Apollo’s expense]

phoenix: ...are you sick?

NICK

OH MY GOD

i shriek laughed

Apollo: [clearly emotionally distraught]

Dhurke: [continues to dance around the issue, thus prolonging Apollo’s suffering]

(Why is this happening now? Just when I was finally starting to feel like you really are my...)

HE DOESN’T DESERVE YOU, APOLLO

GET OUTTA THERE

So far Apollo hasn't said “i’m gonna do x and x and x, or die trying!” and honestly i know it’s a bit on the nose but it’s more true for this situation than any other ones it’s usually said in.

Dhurke: I’ve got a big secret

Apollo: You’ve been hiding something *ELSE* from me?

Dhurke: I’m afraid I can’t tell you what it is. I’d be betraying a certain someone if I did.

WHY DID HE EVEN BRING IT UP THEN!? WHY IS DHURKE JUST THE FUCKING WORST?!!!

“You’ll discover a truth that is hard to accept. But I know you. And I know you can handle the truth, no matter what it turns out to be.”

After all, you’re super great at accepting all the misfortune my existence has heaped upon you! Hahaha!!!

“Apollo... Are you okay?”

“...I’m fine.”

they ask you how you are, and you just have to say that you’re fine, when you’re not really fine, but you just can’t get into it b

h e r e c o m e t h e r e b e l s

and once again you have to manually move there.

action bomb over here from Vore Machine

also beh’leeb sweety youre doing amazing

“Dhurke belongs to the people!! Give him back!!!”

he what now

(sigh)

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................hi.....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................sadmad...............................................................................................................................................................................

“They’ll be arrested? Just for protesting?!”

Apollo... you live in the real world, r–– oh well technically he doesn't hm

that point’s moot

“They are aiding and abetting a criminal by seeking his release”

uh pretty sure that’s BS yut

“Her Eminence, Queen Ga’ran, has ordered they be arrested and judged en-masse”

ok im fucking

I'm wheezing so bad not ONLY do we have to save a revolution and Dhurke the rebel leader, but we are now about to defend most of the population of an entire country at once. Stakes RAISED bro

good fucking lord apollo stop being all “weren’t you a defiant dragon once?!wehh!!”

even Phoenix, with his Edgeworth obsession, didn’t really question it when Edgeworth was being his shithead prosecutor self.

Nahyuta: Sigh. Guess I can’t escape you. I mean I could use my magic beads to tie you up and then prance off but i have a plot to advance.

“Enough with the zen monk act, Nahyuta– Tell me how you really feel!”

Damnit, Sadmad, it’s not like we have someone who can read emotions by listening to-– oh yeah.

“She’s being held in secret where nobody is allowed to see her.”

second time’s the charm!

Apollo, simply bringing up the reason he’s doing what he’s doing won’t get him to stop. Remember the Phoenix and Maya situation? Until you can guarantee her safety, Sadmad’s just going to keep steam rolling along.

OH FINALLY

ok athena dish the dirt

alright, here we go, folks. time for Nick to get all their asses killed. i mean just listen to that ominous music :/

i love her laugh sprite.

“a lawyer AND a comedian, HOW DROLL”

the royal guards weird me out a bit though. its those masks. I'm getting high lady gaga gives

lady gagaran

Apollo: better give her evidence to burn–– i mean, jog her memory with some evidence.

Ghost of hobo nick: future me!! stop this!! don’t you remember what always used to happen?!

SOJ Phoenix: DOOOHOOOHOOO WE GOT HER NOW, APOLLO!

...........that worked

....no it didn’t. just spring you damn trap already, gagaran.

Apollo: Hm better not tell the people, that could stir up the revolution and actually make it happen. Especially since there might be REAL terrorists hiding out there, just waiting until someone goes, “Hey, that dead queen isn’t really dead!!”

lol

something went wrong?? no way

“Eeeek! Apollo! Don’t strip here!!!”

why is athena such a ditz in this case???

I HEARD A BELT

wow. apollo’s ass canonically bared in AA6

klavier gavin cries a million miles away

“HE WASN’T HIDING THE BULKY ASS ORB IN HIS CLOTHING, YOUR EMINENCE”

“damn i really thought he was hiding it in his skintight pants and vest. also ignore the other two, they couldn’t possibly have it.”

oh lord pls don’t hurt rayfa

“Your mind has been poisoned by the barbed one.”

“It was an honour and pleasure, your eminence”

phoenix i know that was highly badass and all but youre literally sitting pretty to be executed

“”””discipline””””

“Well, Apollo, let’s head back to the safe house for now.”

yes, just in case any spies follow us! so that the queen can get her hands on the orb that much fast!!

oh hi edgeworht, youre in this game

WOO YOU TELL’EM EDGEY

DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!! DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!! DOWN WITH PLUMED PUNISHER!!

“Moving along to things that actually matter...”

it’s true, but he shouldn’t say it

“Yeah, it’s like the more we learn about this case, the less we understand.”

just like me and this game’s writing process

“A trial without evidence...”

there’s evidence, you wankers, what do you think that photo of amara, the old case files and the necklace are????

“Athena, you’re too young and extra to die. Sit this trial out so we can save on sprite space.”

“Gotcha, chief.”

“Plus, there’s prosecutor Blackquill to think of. he said he’d use me for sword practice if he put you in harms way.”

Yeah, if Athena dies, who’ll his new punching bag be??? don’t think i haven’t forgotten story teller. i will not forget. i will not forgive.

“Remember; the worst of times are when lawyers have to force their biggest smiles.”

ugh, finally it’s used semi right.

And so, we come to the end of another frustrating chapter. It’s finally time to move on to the final trial. I’m actually kind of curious to find out how everything went down– though something tells me my suffering won’t end when i do.

Welp, friends – till next time. The final hurdle is at hand. Or at least, part one of it.

#sulking over SOJ #ooc #we're almost done... just the final trial still to go...]#spirit of justice spoilers #soj spoilers

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vvakarians · 5 years

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Tagged by @goblin-deity to have my inquisitors companions describe them!! This is at the peak of all approval maxed out or lost.

Cassandra:

The Inquisitor? Well, at first I believed they were a monster; perhaps one easily struck down, but a monster all the same. Purely for the crimes I thought they had committed. Of course when that was disproven I was at a loss. I found myself needing to get closer to them to further understand who they were. In reality the Inquisitor is empathetic —often to a fault— which I cannot blame them for, even if it’s often frustrating when attempting to show them the logic of the situation. But even through their mistakes I have watched them grow and learn. The Lord Inquisitor is a gentle soul wrapped up in anger and doubt, yet it does not consume them. They are more than most think they are, even themself. I hope one day they learn to forgive, they deserve a happier life than the one the Maker seemingly planned for them. Perhaps they will show me they can break tradition one more time.

Cole

Calliope is big. They walk into a room and even if no one listens they are loud, frightening; they are heard. But they are also kind and sweeter than the honey from the kitchen, the one with lavender mixed in. Calliope is warmth when the snow has made your laugh brittle and your feet hurt. Hope and compassion follow them everywhere they go, even as darkness closes in behind them. There is sadness too; deep and dark within them, they are afraid of it. The wolf lingers in their shadow and is waiting, but I think he waited too long. Calliope is stronger than even the Iron Bull. Twice as much. And their fangs are larger.

Sera

Bit daft, but I like daft. They took a while to warm up to, what with all the pomp and shit. Not that it was their fault, it follows Callie like the Blight. Nasty shit they got messed up in. Good friend though. They listen real well and wipe away your tears even if they’re the real snotty ones. I like their smile, it’s nice and bright, scares the knickers off the nobles too.

Callie is good at coming up with pranks too. We once turned all of Curly’s smalls bright pink just to hear him squawk the next morning. Was the last time I saw ‘em smile, y’know. Wanna see them smile more. Solas was shit to them and he took their light, friggin’ elfy. They’re too pretty for him anyway, they deserve someone who will treat them like the greatest person in Thedas. Andraste knows they have bad taste though, we’ll see how it works out.

Iron Bull

A terror, but they’re my terror. Calliope’s got a good head on their shoulders, maybe a little too compassionate for a perfect leader, but they get the job done. Knows how to swing a sword and hit the right places to kill anything that breathes, which is great. Strong as a fuckin’ dragon that one and twice as fierce. I don’t always agree with them but that’s all in good fun, most of the time it’s on whether peppermint goes with hot chocolate or if Sera should pour elfroot tea in Solas’ wine from the windowsill or above him. We get along just fine. And we trust each other. That’s what friends do after all, we keep each other sane and happy. I learned that from them, we could all use that lesson. Wouldn’t want anyone else beside me in battle, or when the demons get a little too loud.

Dorian

A little more magial training would suit them, however I’m not complaining. Calliope is...a true warrior and friend, you don’t often come across both in one person. I don’t know how many times I’ve prattled on for hours about one piece of magical theory and they hadn’t even fallen asleep once! Not to mention they offered to punch my fathers lights out for me. Didn’t take them up on it but it was a kind gesture.

They’re the one person I would trust above all others here. Callie is fiercely protective and loyal, you’d never find a better confidant. Some have misused that privelege and they will suffer dearly for it. Not only do they have a massive army of close friends—Calliope is brutal when you’ve hurt them and it cannot be repaired. They wouldn’t get you killed mind you, but they will get angry and leave you to be a meal for a dragon. The Inquisitor is someone you want on your good side, never your bad. Of course, you don’t need to do much other than be a compassionate person for them to be your friend for life.

Vivienne

I will not speak ill of the Lord Inquisitor, it is indecent. We may not agree wholeheartedly on much but I think they are a fair, just leader for the Inquisition. Whether they were sent here by the Maker or simply bumbled into our arms no longer matters. They decide the fate of Thedas and I will follow so as long as they don’t turn into an Archdemon or a magister. The Inquisitor holds our hope, and I continue to believe in them. I feel that perhaps they’ve grown on me in such a way that I need to get a better tailor for them, and crush a few eggs into a certain mans smallclothes drawer.

Varric

Chompers is a good kid, no ifs ands or buts about it. They’re trying their best and people need to give them some slack about it. Callie has all the makings of a tragic hero and I’m done writing tragedies. I think they’re gonna do amazing just like they always have been. They’re loud enough, witty enough, and quick enough to outalk Grand Duke Gaspard let alone Empress Celene. Hell, they could talk Corypheus to death with all their facts on dragons. We get along just fine. Maybe they’re shit at Wicked Grace and have bad taste in apostates so far but they’re still...family, and a good friend. Honestly, they remind me of Hawke. I want them to have a good life. They’ve had enough shit done to them at this point. People want them to lead but I’ve seen the stress it causes. I just hope they can search around for some breathing room.

Solas

They are intriguing at best and frustrating at most. Endearing perhaps as well. The Inquisitor has fantastic ideas about the Fade and the spirits within it, however they lack the training to properly understand. In time I hope that they learn all that they desire, they deserve that much. As much as they are a good listener they can be infuriating at times, but such is the fate of many Dalish elves I’ve come across. Other than that there is not much to say about the Inquisitor. I’m sure you’ve all heard of our little spat a few weeks ago. That’s all you need to know. They are a strong and stubborn person, they will lead the Inquisition to greatness I’m sure.

Blackwall

Callie is...well, Calliope. They gave me my life back when I didn’t think I deserved it, for that I thank them. The Inquisitor says they’re no herald, no prophet for Andraste but I believe they were put here for a reason. Whether that was by the Maker or simply just because, it doesn’t matter. I will serve them well, as both a friend and a warrior in their ranks. Even when they learned of who I was they still gave me their trust, their unwavering loyalty. Which both overjoys and frightens me. The Inquisitor needs a strong hand alongside them, and I hope that I can provide that for them. Callie isn’t breakable but they can shatter, and they shouldn’t have to.

#calliope lavellan #thanks for tagging me!!#if ya wanna do it go ahead

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naomi-lafleur · 7 years

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Funerals and Rebels

A/N: I said ukulele way too many times in this Merci @aliyatyson @mila-regan @niara-aldaine @tracie-beauchamp @sophiaravensfromillea and @haidenschreave for rping. Mentions of @baguette-le-chef and @felix-vladmska

It’s been about two days since the accident. I’ve barely spoken a word to anyone other than the maids, and when I do, it’s always monotone. I wander around the palace aimlessly as I watch distressed maids, drained servants, and a (more than usual) bitter Baguette, scurry all over the place. I walk past a portrait of the royal family and stop. I take my hands out of my dress pocket and set my eyes upon Queen Alize. My mind continuously repeats the same thing over and over and over again.

Dead. She’s lifeless right now because of you. You had the chance to save her, just like how you could’ve saved papa, but no. You’re useless, Naomi. You’re usele-

My thoughts are interrupted by Baguette shouting at the trainees in the kitchen. “Oh mon dieu, Tu me fais chier!” (SOrry if it isn’t accurate) It feels as if the palace is overcast with dark, dreary clouds.

Pull yourself together! You have to look cheerful, as always. It’ll make everyone feel better. Hide the depressed Naomi back inside where she belongs.

I take a deep breathe in, wipe away the tears, and turn around. I put on a fake smile and headed upstairs. Luckily, my maids were not in my room at the moment, so I grabbed my ukulele and hid myself in Viola’s old room.

The funeral was the following day. I hated this feeling. This whole fiasco just reminds me more of my dad. Can I just hide here all day?

The last time I attended a funeral was for my papa. I was only twelve years old at the time. I couldn’t even say the eulogy that I wrote for him, because I was sobbing so much that I couldn’t go on. That following year, my life became a wreck. Maman worked extra hours as a photographer, Etienne got more part time jobs, I couldn’t get any further education… Since I was too young to find any jobs other than making my art, Victoire, Lucien, and I scrounged the house for things to sell. When I turned fourteen, we got desperate. We were forced to sell everything that my dad owned. The only thing that I had left of him, was this ukulele that he handcrafted for my eleventh birthday.

This. This is all I have left of him.

I woke up the next morning to a maid’s shriek. She thought that I had been an intruder. You would’ve thought I killed her cat, considering how loud she screamed. After that little scare, I grumpily walked downstairs to my room, where my maids were worried sick. They all gathered around me and started talking all at once. I stared at the wall and sighed. The chatter died down.

“Zip it, you two! Miss Naomi, are you alright? Your eyes are as red as tomatoes… have you been crying?” I sniffled and gave them fake smile. “Of course I’m alright, why wouldn’t I be? A-And I probably just have allergies.” I said, dismissing her statement. They gave me a slight nod and began to dress me up for the funeral. I ended up wearing a simple black satin and velvet knee high dress, with a pearl necklace. I put on a pair of black heels and head downstairs.

I entered the Great Room, filled with thousands of guests, murmuring quietly. I take a seat beside Mila and Niara. My eyes wander around the room, and see Elaine crying on Haiden’s shoulder. Sadness fills my heart. How could something this tragic happen to such a wonderful family? I suddenly have trouble catching my breathe. I reach my arm out and grab Mila’s hand, which somewhat calms me down. As my heartbeat starts to go back to it’s normal rate, the eulogies begin. For the next 2 hours, I sit there in silence. As everyone cleared out of the room, I sat there unfazed, staring at the photo of Queen Alize.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry that I didn’t prevent this, this tragedy. I feel fortunate enough to have gotten to meet you and I apologize. May you rest in peace.

I felt much brighter the next morning. The cow balloons that I asked Eleanor to order, had finally arrived. I cheerfully walk down the hallways, in search of Haiden.

“Hey Haiden! After hours and hours of searching, I finally found it!“

He looks at me in confusion. “Found… what exactly?”

“Close your eyes first,” I said.

“Happy late birthday! Here are the cow balloons I was talking about,” I explain, referring to the joke I made on his birthday.

“Wow… that’s something. Thanks.”

“So how are you holding up after the incident?” I ask.

“Oh, uh… “ He says hesitantly.

I realize my mistake and apologize. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m so stupid,” I mutter.

“No, you’re not.”

“I should’ve known better than bring up this topic.” I shake my head. “You’ve already got so much to deal with and I’m just making it worse.”

“No, no, it’s fine, really. You can’t really make it much worse.”

“Well if you ever need anyone to talk to, just know I’m always here. I’ve gone through a loss too.” I sigh..”.. not as bad as yours, but it always helps to have someone there.”

We continue to talk, until I change the topic.

“Hmm… are you hungry? I’m craving crepes, and coincidentally, they’re the only recipe I can make without burning the whole kitchen down. Do you happen to be allergic to crêpes?”

“Um, I think I’ll be good. As long as there’s no fire.” Haiden said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty skilled at using a fire extinguisher if I say so myself” I laugh.

“Now I’m nervous.”

I roll my eyes. “If your pants catch on fire, I’ll make sure to blast you with it.”

“Yikes. Let’s do this, then.”

I grab Haiden’s arm and drag him towards the kitchen. “C'mon, let’s go.”

We begin to get the ingredients.. “Okay first we’ll need… *looks in cupboard* Some flour, eggs, salt, sugar, and… butter”

“I don’t trust myself enough for the eggs, so I’ll get the other stuff.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? We got,” I look at the carton. “9 other eggs to experiment with. Come on, just try to crack one.” I say, handing him an egg.

Haiden cracks it, get shells in it, and accidentally drops some out of the bowl. I laugh and start to pick the shells out of the mixture. I hand him a bigger bowl to try again. He does the same thing, but doesn’t spill any of it this time.

“Wow congrats you didn’t spill it this time!” I exclaim, continuing to crack the other two eggs.

“This should go down in history books.”

“Yes, this is a such a monumental moment.” I pretend to tear up.”You will be known as the egg king by the people “

I accidentally crush a shell with my hand and start bleeding. I grab a unicorn band-aid out of my pocket and stick it on my finger. “I know, I know, you don’t have to say it. It’s very fashionable. Okay, you can start measuring the sugar and salt”

“ I was just going to ask why you had one on hand, but I won’t.”

“ You never know when it’ll come handy… but normal band-aids don’t work, only unicorn ones do”

“An exact science, I’m sure.”

“Absolutely. I think next we need the flour…” I struggle to carry the large bag of flour onto the table, and it plops on the table which gets everywhere.

“Haha I think you got a little something on your nose.” I said, gesturing to his nose.

Haiden crinkles his nose and wipes it on my face. “Now you have some”

I grabbed more flour and threw it at him, which turned into a full on war.

“This was a new suit.” He contemplated for a second before grabbing the bag of flour and dumping it on my head.

Nuh uh. He did not just do that

I laugh and grasp onto as much flour as I can from the mountain on my head and charge at him.

“Oh my I’m so sorry” I chuckle. “There was flour in my eyes… hmm I wonder how it got there.” At that moment, I realize that I was still on him, so I blush, roll off, and lay next to him.

“Can we just stay down here all day?” I ask.

“In flour?”

“Well we’re already covered in it. Whats a little more going to do?”

“We could set it on fire”

“I think its hot enough down here already. *pauses* oh god that sounded awful”

He laughs. “It definitely did”

“My bad. Sometimes I need to think these kinds of things through.” I roll onto my side to look at him “…You know you still have something on your nose, right?” I boop his nose.

“You know you still have something… everywhere”

I dust the flour off his cheek and lingered there momentarily. “Yeah, I wonder whose fault that is?”

“Yours”

“I believe that’s incorrect. If I recall you dumped the flour bag”

“Yes, but you dumped it on me which made it substantially worse.”

“Sure buddy. If that’s what you want to believe.”

Why did you call him buddy? Smh Naomi, smh

“That shall be the truth.”

“Is that how the truth works? I always thought differently.”

“Possibly.”

“So while we’re down here, why don’t you tell me a secret?”

“How forward. Uh, a secret… I like my milk first, then my cereal.”

You monster

I pretend to gasp. “That’s not a secret, that’s a sin,” I say matter of factly.

“I keep my sins secret.“

“What other kinds of sins are you talking about? Do you also straight up bite kit kats without breaking them apart?“

“Obviously”

“Haiden Schreave, what kind of man are you? Well, besides one that I like..”

Bleh. You did not just say that, Naomi. Give me a minute while I go puke.

“A threat society, I’m sure”

“ ”*laughs* I doubt that. You’re about as threating as a kitten. Wait aren’t you scared of cats?”

“Um, terrified, yes,” He states.

“You sure are a character, I’ll give you that.”

“You are too, Flour Girl.”

“Thanks, but it’s actually pronounced Lafleur.” I wink.

“Oh, my mistake. Laflour.”

HAHAHAHA DEAD

“So tell me a better secret, Haiden *pauses* What are your feelings for me?”

“What are yours for me?”

“Nonexistent until you tell me yours”

“Ouch.”

“Well, Haiden, I do like you. A lot actually… I just want to know if you return those feelings.” My face turns a bright shade of red.

“Of course I like you, but…”

Here comes the bad news…

I bite my lip. “…but what?”

“You seem like you just see me as a friend, you know?”

Did he just use reverse psychology to friend zone me? Good luck with your cow on the farm, Naomi. You’ll need it.

My lip starts to quiver and I mumble. “C'est dommage… Well, I’m sorry you feel that way”

“Naomi…”

Hide depressed Naomi. Hide her away.

I smile sadly. “It’s LaFlour, remember?”

“Laflour, I apologize. Are you upset with me?”

I stand up, brushed myself off, and wiped a tear away quickly. “ It’s… fine, let’s just finish these crepes. If one thing is going to work let it be these crepes.” I smiled.

“Naomi… LaFlour. You are such a wonderful person. You’re so positive and accepting. Don’t let a stupid boy make you cry.”

Too late

“Just to set the record straight, I don’t think of you as just a friend.” I offer him my hand to pull him up.

He accepts my gesture. “I know. But you still shouldn’t cry over me. Wasted tears. Cry over sad movies and dogs and really, really good food. Just… not over boys or me or anyone because we’re all trash bags.”

You’re not a trash bag, Haiden.

We discuss more about cows and trash, and then finish up the crepes. My heart shattered that night.

This shouldn’t be a surprise. We all knew it was going to happen.

A few days after that, Niara and I were wandering around the palace, when we heard some loud whispers. We turned the corner and, much to our surprise, see Aliya, Sophia, and Tracie.

Niara runs towards them. “What’s going on?’

“Rebel Attack!” Tracie screams.

“I am keeping my promise! No one will get hurt!” Sophia exclaims.

I stare at them in confusion and repeat Niara’s question. “Wait, what is happening?”

Aliya finally acknowledges us and waves awkwardly. “Oh no. Hi Naomi, hi Niara.”

Mila lets out a frustrated sigh and mutters to herself.

“Look, it’s kind of hard to explain, but there’s going to be running a lot of rebels through these halls any moment, and we need you to go the bunkers.” Aliya explains.

Tracie and Sophia continue to fight about attacking.

In a midst of the argument, I interrupt. “Uhhh, so where do we go?”

“Yes bunkers. Fast!” Sophia says.

I cannot make out a word they are saying with everyone talking all at once until Niara grabs my arm. “You’re dying with me, almond.”

Nuh uh. I am not willing to die over here. I already lost my chance with Haiden, so I just want to live a quiet, and peaceful life on a farm with a cow.

“Why you gotta make me die too?” I whine. “That is just rude.”

“There’s a rebel attack Niara,” Tracie says.

Sophia gets frustrated and drags Mila and I away.

Tracie pipes in. “I’m not part of it, by the way.”

“We’re not really trying to hurt anyone, we are getting supplies for the lower caste” Aliya tries to explain.

“Well… uh, I do not want to die,” I say, trying to hurry this along.

I look every which way, trying to make out a sentence in their conversation.

“Haiden is most likely already in the bunker”

“Listen to Niara!”

“Yes Aliya planned it, so it must be right”

“One question,” I ask calmly.

“Yes?” Sophia says.

“WHY ARE YOU GUYS ATTACKING THE PALACE!” I yell.

“GOOD QUESTION” Tracie responds.

The rest seem to ignore me.

“But indeed, the Prince is found more important than the Selected, so that’s why we wanted to check to get you to the bunkers in time.” Aliya says.

“REBELS ARE STUPID”

“Hey don’t call me stupid”

“Finally some common sense”

“How can I know to trust you?”

“Don’t pin it all on me, there’s like a whole team and all”

“Because we spend months together in this Palace? And we are here, and no guards yet”

I put my hands on my forehead. Oh mon Dieu. Is this really the time to be arguing? I grab Niara and Mila.

“LET’S JUST GO GUYS!” I exclaim.

“Naomi! Let go!” Niara screams.

“Thanks Nana. Here we go,” says Tracie.

“DO YOU WANT TO DIE?” I ask.

After much more bickering, we finally agree to go to a safe room.

Suddenly, I get a gut feeling. The realization hits me like a brick.

M-my ukulele

I sprint up the stairs without any warning or hesitation. Niara tries to grab my hand but it fortunately slips out of her grasp. “ALMOND, COME HERE!” She shouts.

If something happens to this ukulele, I will die with it. I will sacrifice my life for this instrument if it’s the last thing I do. I-I can’t lose this.

More and more tears roll down my eyes as I wipe them away. Gasping for air, I finally stumble into my room. I see a Northern Rebel rummaging through all my personal items. They wouldn’t touch my stuff, my ass. My eyes focus on the ground and see the picture of family ripped in half. I see his grimy hands holding my blue ukulele and I lose it.

The whole situation was a blur. I was so focused on getting my stuff back, that I couldn’t remember what happened. All I knew for sure, was that I hook kicked him, which then resulted in him going unconscious. I grabbed all my stuff and headed towards the safe room nearby. As I ran, I heard 2 men, presumably rebels, on my tail. I tried to escape them by turning a corner, but I got shot in the shoulder. I fell to the floor faced down, accepting death.

This is how I’ll die today

Gasping for more air, I heard someone running towards me. I had assumed that it was a rebel, who was going finish me off, but I heard a grunt and a man whispering to himself. I felt the man carry me into the safe room.

“C'mon, c'mon, c'mon. You’re going to be okay, alright? Someone will come save you. Someone wi-”

I tried keeping my eyes opened to see if I knew him, but his voice started to fade off. I heard the door slam, and then I was knocked out.

I woke up in a pitched black room with an aching pain in my left shoulder. In that moment, I remembered everything that happened. With my good arm, I reached out to turn on the lights. The light bulb flickered and lit up the whole room. I looked around, in search of a medical kit.

Beans, water, spare light bulbs, a clock…

I stared at the clock in confusion. I’d been asleep for 2 hours? Eventually I bandaged myself up the best that I could. I covered my bleeding finger with a unicorn band-aid that I had in my pocket and sighed. I sat there, blaming myself for everything.

You saw Cressida… You thought it was your imagination… If you just told someone, the queen wouldn’t be dead! If you hadn’t told papa to go into town and get you more paint… he wouldn’t have died. Everything… is always your fault. Everyone will leave you one day, just like how grandma did… and Viola… and how Haiden will.

I sat in the corner of the safe room in silence. I couldn’t move. The pain from my shoulder was still killing me even more, because I hadn’t been able to get the bullet out alone.

It’s been well over three hours already. Why isn’t anyone saving me?

I start to lose consciousness again.

Just… just wait a few more minutes, Naomi. They… they will come for you. Stay awake. You have to stay awake. You may not wake up this time.

Just as I lose hope and my eyes begin to droop, I hear a loud creaking sound. The bright light shines into the dim room, and I see a man in front of my face.

“Are you alright?”

I recognize him from somewhere. “I-I’m fi- “ My head drops. ”Oh I’m a-alright”

“You’re clearly not.” He carefully puts me in his arms and carries me to the hospital wing. Apparently not gentle enough, because he accidentally brushes my injured shoulder and I yelp in pain.

His eyes widen and then I remember. It’s Felix Vladmska. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s alright. C-can you please get my ukulele and bring me t-to um… to the hospital wing? T-Thank you for sav-saving me.”

My droopy eyes shut and the last thing I remember, is Lavender running towards me.

#this fic sucks #my apologies #selectionoc #challenge 5 #naomi

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briangroth27 · 7 years

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Marvel’s Inhumans Season 1 Review

I didn’t find much to love in Marvel’s latest TV series: I’ve never been a huge Inhumans fan and this did little to change my mind. The show felt prohibitively small-scale, the character arcs were messy even in an eight-episode season, and they took the bizarre position of making the supposed heroes the heads of an oppressive caste system. It seems like budgetary restraints put a cap on power usage, but I feel like we see more action on episodes of Agents of SHIELD than we did on this show. There were many opportunities to go bigger, weirder, and much more interesting in all areas of the series, from design to superpowers to character arcs, but more often than not they chose to play it safe and conventional.

From costumes to sets, the production values for the Inhumans’ hidden moon base Attilan looked far too mundane and ordinary, like you could find them in any location on Earth. Their design choices and way of life didn’t reflect a people that had been separated from humanity for such a long time. Shouldn’t they have wholly disparate customs and outlooks; shouldn’t they essentially be aliens to us at this point? The terrigenesis ceremony, which gives the Inhumans their powers, was the one cultural touchstone that felt like it separated them from any other Earth culture. Attilan should’ve been home to as many strange and wondrous Marvel Easter Eggs as possible—this was their first chance to truly dig into the weirdness of the MCU on TV—but we got none. While Hawai’i was shot well, the rest of the Earth locations didn't really pop either. The set for what was supposed to be a high-tech space agency was an empty warehouse with a big-screen monitor and some desks arranged in front of it.

The characters didn’t fare much better and for the most part, their sojourns in Hawai’i did little to endear them to me. While it was great to have a lead who couldn’t speak and instead used sign language (or a version of it, anyway; like I saw in reviews at the AV Club, there’s no reason for them to speak English but not use ASL), Black Bolt (Anson Mount) wasn’t given many opportunities to do more than glower. When he did get to briefly explore other emotions, like comedic reactions to humans or romance with Medusa (Serinda Swan), Mount was believable, but overall Blackagar Boltagon felt pretty grim the whole time. I didn’t buy the angst of his character: a scene where he accidentally vaporized his parents with his super-destructive voice was so nonchalant it appeared comedic, not tragic. Additionally, Black Bolt did not appear to be a ruler charismatic enough to uphold the oppression the royal family continued forcing on the people of Attilan. His leadership choices didn’t make much sense either: learning of the spread of Inhumans on Earth (as seen on Agents of SHIELD), he secretly sends Triton (Mike Moh) to recover them, complete with a secret rendezvous location in case things go bad. Why wouldn’t he tell Medusa and his master strategist Karnak (Ken Leung)? We’re never given a hint that he distrusts them and it’s clear neither would betray him. How did he send Triton, when the show makes no effort to give Black Bolt the means to communicate without Medusa interpreting for him (the Inhumans have wrist communicators, but the devices don’t have video screens or text readouts) and only Medusa and Maximus (Iwan Rheon) know how to understand his sign language? We’re also told he has a secret bunker that no one else knows about, fully stocked for several lifetimes. What if Black Bolt had been killed in a sneak attack from their “greatest enemy?” Medusa and the rest of his family would’ve never known where they could seek shelter. Keeping secrets like these made no sense and only served to manufacture cheap drama when the other characters found out and (rightly) called him on his bizarre choices. I did like that Black Bolt always maintained his self-control about using his powers, making him a clever foil to Maximus’ obsession with getting abilities, but that wasn’t played with as much as it could’ve been. Finally unleashing his voice to give Maximus the other thing he wanted—to be king of Attilan—was fitting, but I didn’t feel anything from their struggle since they spent so much screentime apart.

Karnak was introduced as an abusive and borderline psychotic womanizer—telling a servant (Jenna Bleu Forti, I believe) that within two days of dating he’d hate her so much he’d want to kill her because he could see her flaws—and his brief fling with a human (Jen, Jamie Grey Hyder) while his powers were on the fritz did nothing to convince me he’d changed. I’ve liked Leung in other roles, but making Karnak likable was a truly uphill battle. That he hit his head and messed up his powers of seeing the flaw in everything because he calmly stepped on a loose rock and fell off a cliff was absurd. Immediately abandoning his quest to find Black Bolt once his powers glitched—not to find out how to fix them, but because he felt useless—made me wonder why he was ever seen as reliable among the royal family. His truly random time on a pot farm was extraneous to the plot (especially once violence was involved), and his self-doubt momentarily changed into completely embracing a carefree lifestyle far too fast, but at least his fling attempted to provoke some character growth by getting him to not look for flaws so much. However, his inability to see them at that point deflates that growth a bit for me. Once he reunited with his family, their biggest reaction to the changes he’d supposedly gone through is that he acts without being absolutely sure now, not that he’s grown as a person or anything. He does defy royal decrees and tradition by putting Gorgon (Eme Ikwuakor) through terrigenesis a second time to resurrect him, but Black Bolt and Medusa scolding him felt half-hearted, so it didn’t seem like that big a breach in protocol. While his dedication to his friend was admirable, he was so abrasive in the beginning that I still didn’t find him likable at the end of his arc.

Questions of competency further arose around Gorgon, who seemed to be the worst head of a royal guard ever. This is a guy who, knowing they have to remain hidden, intentionally crushed exploratory rovers, stole the flag Neil Armstrong planted on the moon for fun, and told a bunch of Earth strangers about their secret moon city right after meeting them. I don’t know if it’s because he never had to actually police anything in Attilan, but he wasn’t written like someone who’d be in charge of security; he was written like a bumbling fool Karnak had to put up with. I get the buddy cop pairing they were going for—Gorgon was the fun impulsive contrast to Karnak’s obsessive planner—but too often Gorgon came off as dumb and Karnak as cruel for me to buy into their friendship very much. Don’t get me wrong; a fun-loving, jovial head of security would be a refreshing change from the standard gruff characterization—Ikwualkor seemed more than up to that task—and it would’ve been fine if Gorgon hadn’t seemed so irresponsible as well. His only response to Karnak telling the servant he’d want to kill her was “You’re your own worst enemy,” which either implies these kinds of comments are so common that he’s decided they can be laughed off or that Gorgon sees Karnak’s sex life as more important than the actual lives of the servants (“say nothing about wanting to kill them—even if you’re thinking it—and they’d sleep with you” was my interpretation of his reaction), or both. Resurrecting him as a somewhat confused “zombie” after a heroic sacrifice (possibly the only truly guard-like thing he did beyond training people to fight in flashbacks) in the later episodes didn’t help matters either. They had a chance to make him see that the royal family’s way of doing things was wrong when a group of Hawai’ian freedom fighters told him about Hawai’i’s history, wherein America forced Hawai’i to give up its monarchy—as if all monarchs are good regardless of who they are—but the writing didn’t let Gorgon realize that Maximus didn’t parallel the imperialistic Americans, Black Bolt and co. did. I found it odd that Gorgon would take these random humans’ advice about strategy for fighting Maximus (staying on Earth to make himself bait so Maximus would bring the fight to him) instead of coming up with one himself. He did have a good idea when he suggested Karnak bluff about still having his power, though, and he did show a little responsibility in eventually telling his freedom fighter pals to back off for their safety; I just wish he’d shown more of this kind of behavior. It seemed like they were afraid to extensively show his hooves, as he wore special boots that made his feet look normal in every action sequence. Triton (Mike Moh) was wasted—maybe the heavy makeup required to bring the character to life prevented them from using him much—and there was no reason for Black Bolt to keep his mission a secret except to create a later moment of internal drama. He did have pretty cool fight scenes at the end of the season, though.

Medusa fared the best by far on the show, and was the one character I was invested in. Even though they cut off her prehensile hair in the first episode—for budgetary/effects reasons, I suppose; for the record, I didn’t think the CGI hair looked bad—robbing her of her trademark powers, her arc was the best-written and acted. At first I thought she was a little too stoic, but Swan did great once Medusa was banished to Hawai’i; her reactions to the loss of her hair—effectively several limbs—were haunting and powerful. I wish we’d gotten more time to see just how intrinsic Medusa’s hair was to her everyday life so we could see how big an impact losing it had on everyday actions (how often does she use her hair when the rest of us would use our hands, for example?) or her fighting style (I did like what little we got to see of her using her hair offensively), but Swan absolutely sold her loss. I liked that her displacement revealed her as a tough fighter (and clever strategist, correctly guessing that Crystal (Isabelle Cornish) was being used to track the royals’ locations) rather than crushing her, though as I’ve seen pointed out elsewhere, a bigger reaction to seeing Maximus again in the end would’ve been appropriate. They could’ve even included the twist the comics did, where she could still control her hair to attack him even after having it cut off. I did like that she destroyed his last chance to get powers by smashing the terrigen crystal just like he stole hers, though. And she got to deliver perhaps the series’ coolest line to Maximus, “Black Bolt wants to have words with you.” Her drive to save her husband—her second call to Black Bolt on their communication devices after arriving on Earth was a great expression of their love—and reunite her family provided the urgency and stakes to the show. While Black Bolt got arrested or captured a lot early on (elaborating on Maximus’ connections on Earth) and everyone else was stuck in subplots that went nowhere and added very little to their character development (mostly they just gained an appreciation for humans, though Karnak and Gorgon once tried thinking like each other to solve problems), Medusa’s arc fit squarely into the narrative and drove most of the action. While she was abrasive when she got to Earth, her burgeoning friendship with Louise (Ellen Woglom) was well-constructed to spark her character development and it’s the one human relationship that felt real and natural. While I would've liked Medusa to spend a little more time dealing with how her rule affected her citizens, taking responsibility for the royal family’s misdeeds and acknowledging that Maximus had the right idea (just like her parents) was a good start, though we probably should’ve seen more of a reckoning for the royals in terms of public reaction to them. I also liked her getting fed up with just being Black Bolt’s interpreter and his lies in general, so I’d be very interested to see what she does with an equal share of the responsibility of ruling. Will she balance her parents’ teachings with the way Black Bolt has been leading, or will she do something entirely different? I would also watch a second season of Medusa and Lockjaw travelling the world to rescue scared and persecuted Inhumans. Medusa and Lockjaw recurring on a Ms. Marvel series, with Medusa teaching Kamala how to be an Inhuman and Kamala teaching her how to respect non-royals and humans, would be welcome too.

Medusa’s sister Crystal had the potential to go in an interesting direction, but they settled for a flimsy romance instead. Maximus seemed to nearly convince her that he was right about the horrible conditions of Inhuman society in Attilan—particularly since her parents had fought against the royalty—and it almost seemed like she might agree. Instead, she escaped Attilan the first chance she got and fell in love with the first human (Chad James Buchanan) she met, who also rammed Lockjaw with his four-wheeler. True it was an accident and he got her dog help, but he also convinced Crystal to go swimming instead of looking for her family in the middle of a coup. From what we saw of Crystal in Attilan, at no point did she need to relax more; even after the coup, Maximus let her hang out in her room. I’m not against romance in superhero stories at all—the soap opera aspect is a core component, dating all the way back to Superman and Lois’ triangle for two—but this wasn’t the time and it paled in comparison to the promise of Crystal more directly interacting with Maximus’ plot. I would have absolutely been on board with her siding with Maximus for the right reasons (minus the overtones of a forced marriage); that would’ve been far more complex and engaging than continuing to draw her as the sheltered princess they did. It also would’ve put her at odds with the rest of her family and built on the backstory of Black Bolt’s parents (Michael Buie, Tanya Clarke) putting hers to death for dissenting against the monarchy. Instead, she got a bland flirtation and her entire role in the final battle against Maximus was to ask a wall (Moses Goods) to teleport everyone to Earth, and she didn’t even have to convince Eldrac to help. Lockjaw was a delight, but he didn’t get to do anything but act as a transporter for everyone else. As I’ve seen pointed out elsewhere, I really wish we’d seen them build their relationship more.

Maximus had all the right motivations—he legitimately had a good argument about the Inhuman caste system throwing people with undesirable or no powers into literal mines (despite the fact that surely powers like Gorgon, Crystal, Karnak, Black Bolt and even Medusa had would make mining easier…no argument that limited resources necessitated the caste system holds up when all the powers useful for labor are wasted on an upper class that does nothing) while those with admirable or beautiful powers were prized—but he was trapped in Attilan without anyone to spar with beyond underlings (another reason Crystal agreeing with him but truly fighting for the greater good would’ve been the better arc). If he wanted an exodus to Earth to ease overpopulation on the moon so badly, why didn’t he just start moving people there as soon as he was in control? Using Eldrac would’ve allowed him to take his people anywhere and the royal family wouldn’t have known or been able to do anything about it. They should’ve been able to hold whatever territory they took or, more intelligently, couldn’t they replicate their camouflaging tech on Earth? Establishing a temporary, invisible home base on Earth where they could collect the newly emerging Inhumans would’ve been better than staying on the moon. Surely fulfilling his promises and leading his people into the future would’ve gone over much better than murdering anyone who opposed him, even with spinning the Genetic Council as the keepers of oppression. It would’ve been a great and complex twist if, in addition to wanting powers, he actually was a good king. When it came to his selfish impulses, he came off as another Loki scheming for power, and while I’ve seen the suggestion that an Inhumans show with multiple “houses” could’ve been the superhero Game of Thrones, that’s much harder to do when there’s only one house. The reveal that Maximus had been communicating with people on Earth and was in command of the soldiers who “killed” Triton was a genuine surprise to me, and I wish there had been more examples of his Machiavellian schemes. On the other hand, forging his parents’ signature on a decree to have Black Bolt lobotomized—inadvertently leading to Black Bolt killing them—had no effect on me; it just seemed so haphazard and random, like it was tacked on to give Black Bolt additional reason to hate Maximus. Having Maximus send out soldiers to attack the royal family got old (though at least they used super powers), and perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so perfunctory if the royals hadn’t all had their powers undermined right off the bat. Maximus and his loyalists would’ve had to be that much more cunning and powerful if they were dealing with a royal family that had functioning superpowers instead of a scattered array of lost souls, which would’ve made for a more exciting series instead of watching drug dealers try to kill Karnak and random freedom fighters team up with Gorgon. I wish they could’ve given him his second terrigenesis to push him further into madness. I also wish we’d seen his friendship with Medusa—in flashbacks or in the present—since it was apparently so important to him; that would’ve added an understanding of how much he was either hurt by her cutting him off or how much he was willing to sacrifice to be someone important.

The series’ biggest problem was crafting the royal family as willing perpetrators of the caste system in Attilan. I’ll give the show credit for taking the hard path and making them knowingly complicit instead of just having Maximus convince the populace that truly benevolent and fair rulers were corrupt simply because it was a monarchy, but the writing didn’t do the best job of having any of the royals deal with what they were doing to their people. With Black Bolt and Co. willfully throwing Inhumans with powers that aren’t desirable or useful into slums and mines, how are they anything but the villains? Why should we root for them? Then you have Kitang (Marco Rodriguez) celebrating terrigenesis as a process which elevates the Inhumans above everyone else; however well the “Inhumans-as-mutants” parallel was going on Agents of SHIELD, comments like these destroy the idea that Inhumans can reliably stand in for mutants as metaphors for the disenfranchised and oppressed in society. Going even further, I didn’t need to see the royal family learn to appreciate humans at all. That was extraneous to their arc this season and not at all relevant to Maximus’ struggle. Though he vaguely wanted to conquer Earth to take back their “rightful home,” the royals didn’t need to know people to disagree with that impulse, as they already did before meeting anyone and Maximus’ immediate plans never involved attacking humans (except holding a few hostages once). They should’ve been learning to appreciate the lower classes of Attilan and the newly-powered Earth-born Inhumans instead; especially given that’s what brought Triton to Earth in the first place (perhaps the Earth-born Inhumans have created their own underground subculture that would contrast with Attilan’s). Accepting and protecting humans should’ve been saved for a potential Season 2, when they would’ve known they were stuck among us but still felt somewhat xenophobic, especially faced with a government that hates and fears Inhumans.

Despite a nice moment in the fourth episode of Black Bolt taking the time to move injured enemy Inhuman soldiers away from a fire, I didn’t buy that one dying soldier (Locus, Sumire Matsubara) was all it took to convince Black Bolt that their caste system was wrong from what we saw. Medusa maybe, because her parents fought it (and Black Bolt’s parents had hers executed), but I still think we needed to see more of her secretly suspecting her parents weren’t wrong all along to really sell that shift. The dots of her emotional arc were there, but they needed to be connected more clearly. Her comment to Black Bolt about killing Maximus, “Think about what kind of ruler you want to be,” was probably prompted by her dissident parents’ deaths, and mercy for Maximus also probably reflects both their childhood friendship and her friendship with Black Bolt, which started when she went to gloat about his parents’ deaths but took pity on him instead. They could’ve even introduced and justified her lack of success in effecting social change by showing her trying to push it once she became queen, but accidentally finding herself taken in by the comfort of royal life and the ease of cold practicalities (such as forcing Locus into her scout position instead of allowing her to be a healer like she wanted) without realizing it. A wrinkle like that would’ve sold the wakeup call Locus’ death was supposed to be while also bringing Medusa into conflict not only with Black Bolt, but the social awakening Crystal should’ve undertaken. These are the sources of internal dissention they should’ve gone for among the royals, not brief spats over Triton’s mission or Karnak being annoyed at Gorgon’s foolishness. Had something like this been included, I would’ve believed the pivot to a more democratic society more (if that’s even what’s happening; we aren’t really told how the royals are going to continue Maximus’ goal).

The pacing on the whole could’ve been faster. After a quarter of the show had aired, it felt like it had gone nowhere. If this had been a super-powered Mad Max: Fury Road, with the royal family chased out, seen what it was like to be the nobodies in society—maybe in addition to Maximus’ forces hunting them, whatever is left of SHIELD should’ve been on-site to deal with the new Inhuman menaces—and then sieged Maximus’ new Earth-bound city (as the only ones equipped to do it in the wake of Civil War), it would’ve been much better and tighter. I suppose that’s essentially what it was, but the subplots on Earth didn’t really contribute to a greater understanding of the system the royals were perpetuating for the characters. I also don’t understand the intentional vagueness of the finale. Where on Earth is their new home? Who is “the Boss” that secured them this location? Who is their “greatest enemy?” There’s no reason not to answer those questions and they’re not interesting enough to be hooks for a second season. It’s also weird that, just like when Agents of SHIELD started, the people in Inhumans are right back to doubting paranormal things despite living in a world full of them. Callisto Aerospace Control Center scientist Louise gets suspended for suggesting aliens destroyed the moon rover? Aliens demolished New York! Why wouldn’t that be a priority-one, “Call SHIELD right now!” moment?

I don’t know if Inhumans will get a second season and I’m not sure I’d watch if it does. They introduced some interesting ideas, but never expanded on them as much as they could have and the budget was not there to accommodate this world or these characters, spoiling their potential and drastically decreasing the stakes. The show did make me a fan of Medusa and it was great to see another strong female character join the MCU, but I don’t know how much longer her character can carry Inhumans. However, everything can be improved, so the question is, will ABC give it the chance?

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