#like i could be watching the anime or something completely unrelated and tell my brother ‘hey so this reminds me of cora-‘

[angel12-7274]

Chapter 3

Space Chapter 2

Warnings: talks about killing an animal and using its parts (not actually doing it though)

Words: 2696

Space Chapter 2

"Pluto, can you please just tell me what was outside?" Olivia begs still go unanswered while she is taking pieces of 'The Unrelenting' back to her base.

"I will never do that. Ever. Even if you try to force me to, it will never happen; let's just say it is bad enough that we need to pick up the pace and finish the walls." Pluto had made sure that he put the timer up on her screen so she could see it at all times; it currently read 10:03:19 until nightfall.

Sighing, Olivia bounded back to the base quickly; covering the rest of the moss she put on the walls that morning with the metal she took. The process was completed with 07:45:26 left on the timer. "We'll have to decorate later, but now with the shell is finished I need to work on getting light, kitchen, and storage at least worked on."

Pluto popped up shaking his head, "No, we need to fix the door so it swings out, reinforce, and put a lock on it." Olivia hung her head and redid the door with metal on the inside and a crossbar latch as the lock. Pluto finally looked satisfied at the upgraded base. "Okay now you can work on everything else."

Olivia looked at the clock, 05:15:36, she sat on the ground and started on the shelving on the wall with the scraps she had left. She would have to work in the kitchen the next day, so for the rest of the 03:01:05, she took her dinner and before bed time break.

Pluto projected himself next to her by the door, "Olivia," she just looked up, "I- uh...I." He stopped and sighed, "It's time to close the door." Olivia watched the setting sun a bit longer before clicking the light on and locking up. She trudged over to her bag to grab the notebook, and laid down on her stomach in the bed.

She opened it, taking all the tags out, placing them next to her for a moment except Jupiter's. Making sure that they are all there, holding onto her brother's close. Pluto took his place on the bed sitting next to her, "I am truly sorry for what happened to my maker..." He tried to place a hand on her head, but it phased through. Sighing he looked to the door and started to get ready for another bumpy night.

Olivia flipped to the first page of the notebook, and started to read. It was just normal contents of a diary dating back to when he first joined the crew. Talking about how each day went for him, where there was open space there were doodles of the things he described that day. It talked about how he missed his little sister each and everyday; making sure to always sign off with 'Love You, Miss You dork'.

The loud noise of scratching from the outside pulled her away from the book's contents. She looked to Pluto who was just staring at the door; sounds of frustrated chittering from the creature made Olivia tense, but the door stayed closed this night. Then after a moment the sounds stopped and she could practically feel the creature hop away from her house. Pluto smiled, "Looks like our hard work paid off." She just nodded and gathered up the tags to place them back into the notebook, she used Jupiter's as a bookmark so she could continue later. She let her body relax, trusting Pluto to keep an eye on things.

Two weeks of this routine barely kept Olivia from going insane; wake up, eat, work on the house, gather things, fight off creatures, eat, read one day of the journal, go to sleep, repeat.

"Hey Pluto quick question." she sat at the table with her dinner and tea, "What's up?" Pluto popped in sitting across from her in his chair. "Well if I were to make something to help me glide from place to place that also helps me get away from creatures, with the materials I have now, how would you do it?"

Pluto sat there thinking. "I could make a couple of them but it ultimately depends on what you need it for that would result in the materials that you would have to make," he displays multiple holograms all having different designs, "if you are wanting something stealthy, make a cape with stabilizers and leaves or something to match the vegetation," Pluto points to the holograms as he speaks. "If you want something that gives you flight well, that's going to be much harder; you would have to kill a bird a bit bigger than you, get rid of the meat, keep the bones and feathers, and bind everything with cloth and metal."

Olivia grimaced at the sight of the outcome on the hologram, then shook her head, "No not that one, I don't want to smell of death." she grabbed the hologram and threw it away from her.

Pluto nodded and adjusted the rest of the holograms to where they don't have parts of animals on it, leaving him with one more, "Ok then the last one has a high chance of not working, but it would be made of the parts of the ship to make your own set of wings."

Olivia took the two holograms and put them side by side , looked at her suit, and made a new holo-screen to make her own idea. "If I take the cape, add a hood, use these components from the ship...no that would make too much noise, hmmmm." sipping her tea deep in thought, " Wait! I think I got it!" Olivia drew joints first, signals and relays to a button. " The material for the 'arms' will have to be flexible but also stiff and thin," ruling out sticks, and most carbon products, "oh, I could use wiring from the ship and twist them together to make it stronger, put tape or really any coating to help hold it together, yes I think it'll work for now. Then put the cloth over the whole thing and bam!"

Pluto looked it over nodding, "this might work but only for gliding. For the joints we might want to go more of an umbrella style to help simplify it, too bad we don't have any cloaking flexible metal that we could use for the outside,"

Finishing her drink Olivia got up and rinsed her cup and put it in its spot on the shelf, "Yeah that would be nice," she looked at her bed in thought for a moment, "what if I mud wash the materials so it could blend better?" she grabbed the sheet folded pillow and unraveled it.

"Well it could work to some extent but it'll still stand out if under scrutiny," Olivia just nodded while Pluto put up the list under the night timer; 00:02:39.

Olivia closes and locks the door, gets to her bed and reads another day of the journal.

30220304

Dear Self,

Today was possibly the worst day I ever had on the Unrelenting. It started off like normal but then I was tasked to install the "New" and "Improved" AI into MY ship! I was running this beast for several years now and not once did I have trouble! Not once! In fact we were one of the last crews to not accept this "Ship AI''. They told us it was a choice. We said no we don't need it. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. But our last docking wouldn't let us leave until we installed it. We were late to pick up my sis; who is the new medical officer, because the last one hated my guts. She also took the Medical AI helper. For what reason I'll never know. But getting back to the AI I noticed something really weird with the coding, like some of the things that were on there didn't make sense to have on a Union ship. It had a code that traced back to somewhere I don't even know and relayed information as soon as I turned it on. The AI scanned me and shut me out of the access point saying that I'm no longer needed as an Engineer Officer but as just a deckhand. Like uhhh? I tried to tell the captain after he got back from the meeting, but all he did was shake his head and looked like a kicked puppy. Then after break I got called to his office and was told that I was let go from my position. I tried to argue but he held up his hand in a shh motion. Then told me that yes I was rehired as the AI technician. I haven't even completed Pluto yet, he put a sticker over my old badge and gave me a folded piece of paper to 'read over the terms in my room' then dismissed me. I opened it and all it said was that the 'Union isn't what it seems now, gather evidence.' So yay I'm now an undercover investigator against the Union I don't know how I feel about this especially now since my sis is on MY ship.

Signed the newly demoted Engineer, Jupiter.

Placing the 'bookmark' in its new place she covers herself and falls rather quickly to another dreamless sleep while Pluto keeps watch.

Morning came all too quickly and Olivia practically rolled out of the bed, she grabbed the cup and fished the small amount of coffee she collected from her food pouches, and drinks that sweat dirty bean juice.

13:01:00. Rinsed her cup, unlocked the door to gather more materials from the ship to build her cloak.

Progress was slow building the skeleton, trying to get the joints just right to where they wont lock up on her. Then had to cover her hard work with the cloth cutting it the shape of what looked like a leaf but not. "Don't forget to mud wash it and add grass stains." Pluto finally making an appearance.

Olivia nodded, gathered the cut material and went to the door. "All clear Olivia," she nodded again and jumped down to the base of her tree. Material dropped and now being stomped into the dirt, adding the grass stalks to the moisture. After a moment more she hopped back up and hung it to dry.

Pluto popped up admiring her handy work, "I think we did just fine,"

"Yeah I have to leave it until tomorrow to make sure that the stains will stay," Olivia looked up at the clock 05:08:58, "I think I'm gonna take it easy for the rest of the day." Pluto nodded, "good it's about time we took a break Olivia."

She took the chair and set it in front of the door; hologram popped up when she took a seat and she started to doodle the forest. Olivia was sitting there happy drawing away, until Pluto popped a warning screen that something large was approaching fast.

Faint sounds of crashing broke the silence of the forest, sounds of faint thunder only getting louder. Soon the soft thunder turned to loud booming sounds that oddly repeated accompanied by crunching and breaking of the environment.

In the distance Olivia could see something of an outline of a very large being heading her way; weaving through the trees expertly. Vibrations were getting stronger. Fear and worry shot through her soul. So she hurriedly slammed the door, not moving the chair first, just letting it go through the door as she locked it.

Sitting in the dark she could still hear the beast moving outside of her tree now. Olivia was huddled and crossed her bed on the door side to lessen her chances of being spotted just in case.

Pluto watched what was going on with the thermals. A massive being was just outside of the tree, standing there looking at something in the distance. Then squatted messing with its bag. "Olivia it looks like a humanoid, and it might be setting up camp maybe"

"No, why, why is it doing that out of all of the spots it chose here!" Whisper yelled while she hugged herself.

Sitting there in the dark she could hear the thing move around her tree, then it just stopped. Pluto showed her the video feed on what the being was doing, the being appeared to be of humanoid shape just as Pluto said but just massive. It was staring at the chair that was currently forgotten by the maker, holding it carefully so as to not shatter the furniture.

Sounds of distant muffled thunder spooked Olivia, "It just speaks?" The being went back to the ground to place the chair into something, then continued to build its camp.

An hour passes by and Olivia is still trapped in the housing, unable to leave due to the ever looming presence of the massive being just outside. "I know that the staining process isn't done yet but at this point I'm willing to do anything to get out of here." Olivia grabs the cloth and the skeleton of the mechanism so she could finish her cloak to help her sneak around the giant.

04:07:58, mark one of the cloak is completed, putting it on she felt safer and warmer. "I should have time to gather some food and of course a break, without it noticing me immediately."

Pluto popped up, "and we can do some intel gathering on the being to help gauge if this species is safe or not." Olivia grimaced at the thought of holding a conversation with something that large.

She shook the thoughts out of her head and walked up to the door. "It looks to me that it is safe for now, and the being is in its tent-like structure." with the door unlocked she carefully opened it and imminently saw a huge thick rope around her tree that was just above her door. It led to the other tree that was directly across from her tree holding a material covering where the giant being is. She looks at it and decides to keep the door open just in case that it slips down so she won't be trapped outside, and would have a quick escape route.

She grabs the cloak's ends, spreads out her arms to trigger the mechanism and jumps. Olivia notices that she is indeed gliding but not quickly and begins to worry that she is going to get caught. "Olivia, there are some berry bushes nearby, and it'll be covered for your break if needed."

Olivia arrived at her destination and hung out there for a small moment before she gathered three berries and hopped back. "So far so good with not seeing the giant, but he is definitely moving around here. I can feel him stomping around." Right on que small vibrations could be felt, she quickly wrapped herself in the cloak and stayed by a tree that wasn't too far away from hers.

"It appears to be that the being is making a firepit for tonight, also the tent is more like a hammock," Pluto pulled up the scans of the 'building' so Olivia could see it in depth.

Olivia finally looked towards the being, taking in the sight that something that large could move so fast. "Pluto could you scan the giant? It's a bit hard to see its features from this angle."

Pluto nodded, showing a hologram version of the being:

Race: Unknown Height: 45ft Age: Unknown Birthday: Unknown Gender: Appears male

Name: Unknown Language: Unknown

"So it, no he, maybe, intelligent?" Olivia corrected herself not liking what might have to happen in the future. "Yes, it appears so, and you know what that means."

She just turned her head, "But the Union is now our enemy so can I like not?" Pluto looked like he was about to lecture her on how to be a nice person before they noticed the lack of shuffling.

Chapter 3

[eternal-reverie]

my brother told me corazon was mentioned in the latest one piece chapter and im not there yet but wahhhh 😭

[justjensenanddean]

The Boys: How Jensen Ackles’ Soldier Boy “Shakes Things Up” in Season 3

After a lifetime of battling demons on Supernatural, Jensen Ackles is prepared the assume Soldier Boy's shield on The Boys season 3.

Jensen Ackles has been flirting with superherodom his entire career.

The Texas-born actor first became well known to TV audiences thanks to a handful of superhero adjacent roles in the early 2000s. First he portrayed super soldier Alec McDowell a.k.a. X5-494 on Fox’s ahead-of-its-time Dark Angel and then acted opposite none other than Superman as Lana Lang’s love interest Jason Teague on Smallville. He would go on to voice Jason Todd in animated film Batman: Under the Red Hood and the Dark Knight himself in Batman: The Long Halloween.

Of course, that’s not even to mention his most iconic role – that of the demon-hunting Dean Winchester on Supernatural, who alongside his brother Sam  was only a costume and grandiose name away from being a comic book supe.

With the arrival of The Boys season 3, however, Ackles is finally doing this superhero thing properly. Not only is he donning the mask, body armor, and shield of a superhero, he’s doing so as the very first superhero. In the continuity of The Boys, Soldier Boy was the Vought Corporation’s initial attempt at creating a superhuman. Think of him as the company’s version of Captain America, only with a harder edge.

In advance of The Boys season 3’s premiere on June 3, Ackles was nice enough to chat with Den of Geek about becoming Soldier Boy, working with Supernatural‘s Erick Kripke again, and the finer points of beard maintenance.

Read our Q&A with Ackles below and stay tuned for more exclusive details about The Boys season 3 later today.

Den of Geek: How did you convince your old Supernatural boss Eric Kripke to let you join The Boys’ team?

Jensen Ackles: I called him regarding something completely unrelated, and I think I closed the phone call with, “Hey Eric, when are you going to bring me over to The Boys? I want to kick some ass or something. Blow a dolphin, I don’t know, whatever they’re doing over there. Maybe I could help [The Deep] with some water park shit.” And he said, “That’s interesting, let me think about that.” We had a few more conversations, and that led to this.

I thought that was very apropos, coming right out of 15 years of a previous Eric Kripke world and diving right into another one. That had happened just before season two, and so I had seen season one. After watching season two and knowing Kripke the way that I do, I knew that he would just continue to level up. So I got very nervous at that point and I was like, “Oh great, what have I signed on for?”

What can you tell us about your character Soldier Boy?

He’s kind of the original superhero in this particular world, and we did get to see a little glimpse into that past. That was really fun to play and to dive into a bit. Obviously, bringing somebody who has experienced that world into the modern age, you can imagine, it was very similar to Grandpa still being around. What would he think of someone like Homelander or someone like Butcher? It was really fun to play an old man, so to speak. I’ve got to be honest, the beard was tough, though. I’ve never had more products for anything in my life than I had for that fuzz on my chin. But it was an interesting addition to what they already had, chemistry wise, in the super world. It was digging up this relic, essentially, and adding him back into the mix. It definitely shakes things up for season three.

What’s it like being The Boys’ answer to Captain America and being a man unstuck in time?

This ties a lot into the Soldier Boy storyline of this throwback to the old guard, essentially, and these people who have been sent out to pasture get wrangled up and sent back into the fray. It’s interesting, because it was never something that I thought about in watching season one or season two, that there would be an old guard, that these people do kind of age out of being in the spotlight. I thought that that was a really interesting commentary on society and on a lot of the entertainment industry as a whole. It’s like you have a peak, and then if you’re lucky, you can sustain that peak for as long as you possibly can, but I think that was a really interesting commentary on this superhero world, that you kind of get aged out and you get forgotten.

What can you tell us about Soldier Boy’s old crime-fighting team, Payback?

I thought they all did a fantastic job. [Payback] is all about: “What about us? Don’t forget about us. We’re still valid, right? We’re still here, we still have powers.” It’s like, “Yeah, but you’re old news. You’re not in the news cycle right now, nobody cares about you.” And that was an interesting take. Again: it goes to Kripke and his team, of just finding a way to have a commentary on such relevant things that are going on currently.

The world of The Boys is a big one and known for filming a lot of extra material for AR marketing purposes. Did you get to participate in any “extracurriculars” like that?

Not to give anything away, but there’s some old footage of Soldier Boy that we see on TV. Creating that content that we see, we didn’t just shoot a couple of seconds, which is probably all we see [in the show], we shot the whole thing. We did the entire story, which is insane to me, because it’s days of filming. Phil Sgriccia, who is somebody who I’ve a long relationship with—he was on Supernatural and now he’s on The Boys—when he showed up and he was like, “I got you for the next week,” I knew we were going to have a lot of fun. I was also like, “What are we doing this for?” And he just goes, “Amazon.”

The Boys season 3 premieres June 3 on Prime Video. You can read more exclusive details about the new season here.

denofgeek.com/tv/the-boys-season-3-jensen-ackles-soldier-boy/

[phoenixyfriend]

For your suddenly omegaverse au what exactly happened? Like I think obiwan and Anakin hop over from cannon verse to omegaverse but I am unclear on if there already existed obiwan and Anakin in omegaverse. Did they die early or do they just not exist or are they just not force sensitive and therefore not a part of the order? Is there still a sith conspiracy around Anakin?

Context: Original Post, Surrogacy, Worldbuilding, Obi-Mom, Soap Operas

So, from the original post:

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse

Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don’t exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood.

To clarify: There has never been an Anakin Skywalker in this AU. There has never been an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

They don't know this for sure when they land in the AU, though. All they know is that the Jedi have no record of either of them. They figure, well, maybe they just got lost in the shuffle. Anakin wasn't found until he was nine, after all, and that was only by great coincidence.

The rest of this post has almost no mention of the omegaverse elements, FYI.

Warning: References to the Tusken massacre, explicit sedation and isolation of a mentally unstable individual threatening violence.

I don’t want to make light of institutionalization and involuntary holds, but Anakin is a character with a history of violence talking about repeating such an act, and that’s... a bit of an extreme case.

------

It's not that hard to convince the Temple to let them run a mission that lets them stop by Tatooine or Stewjon. Anakin cares a lot more, so Tatooine it is! Obi-Wan can tell there's something sketchy going on with Anakin's particular anxiety about this, but he rolls with it. Anakin was very specific about the timing for some reasons, and at this point, it's easier to just let it all play through.

They go well after the whole “congrats, you’re omegas... somehow,” thing has happened, a month or so before Geonosis would have happened. Obi-Wan has managed to help the council sabotage and delay the Separatist side of the war enough that they’ve gained... maybe a few weeks, maybe a few months. Just a little more time to keep a few more people alive. Nobody’s reached out to Kamino yet, and Jango isn’t staging a failed assassination to draw someone in, either. They’ve bought enough time for Anakin to spend his vacation time checking in on his mom seeing if he exists here, and Obi-Wan can go with him.

They get to Tatooine. They wander about, and Anakin doesn't actually explain where they're going, but takes them straight to where the Lars farm is. Obi-Wan lets Anakin tell him that it was the Force that led him to the right area. Anakin can sense that his mom is in there, and Obi-Wan chalks up the relief from his former padawan to 'she's here and we don't have to look for her.'

Anakin is... panicking. Just a bit. What if he shows up and it turns out this reality's Anakin is off doing something completely unrelated and she realizes he's the wrong person? Or what if she doesn't recognize him and he calls her Mom anyway? What if he fucks up and says something stupid or just starts crying on her? She'll think he's insane.

Obi-Wan... takes over.

Anakin stays hidden, listening. Obi-Wan knocks on the door, and asks if there's a 'Shmi Skywalker' in residence. Someone in town mentioned her. He explains that he has a young friend of about twenty years--they're not sure, exactly, because the friend doesn't know his own birthday, but it's about there--who happens to be a Skywalker, and they're trying to see if they can reconnect him with a parent. They don't have much to go off of other than the surname... the Shmi that lives here wouldn't happen to have ever had any children about that age?

No. She hasn't had any children of her own blood, actually, her only child is her stepson, but she'd be happy to meet this other Skywalker, if he's in the area. It's always nice to find family, and connecting with those that were separated from you is a big deal on Tatooine. She's not going to look a gift bantha in the mouth.

(Cliegg, dear, put down the rifle.)

Obi-Wan promises to let his friend know, bids them goodbye, and goes to find Anakin.

Anakin is having a bit of a breakdown.

As one does.

Anakin insists that they stick around for a bit, that they do what they can to protect the farm, because that's his mom, even if she's not really his mom, and Obi-Wan can tell there's a Lot Going On here. He assumes it's because Anakin's upset his mom doesn't know him, which is a little irrational on account of their two options being "Anakin doesn't exist (and so Shmi doesn't know him)" and "Anakin does exist (but Shmi doesn't know this Anakin, so she still doesn't know him)," but Anakin's not a very rational person.

Obi-Wan thinks tamping down the current crisis is probably a little more important than chastising Anakin's attachment issues, mostly because Anakin's hands are shaking, and he's looking a little wild-eyed, and like. Obi-Wan's not great at dealing with Anakin's many and varied emotions, but he's learned at some point when it's best to just... roll with it Until There's Less Risk of Stab or Sobbing Laughter.

He helps figure out some minor fuckery with the Force to hide the family in the homestead behind them from visitors, and to warn them to hide when someone comes by. It’s not a lot--mostly just meditating and asking the Force for a helping hand--but it’s nice.

Except, well, Anakin keeps fidgeting. He keeps panicking. He has them coming back almost daily for a week, always too scared to talk to his mom but insistent on protecting her, and always looking at the calendar. Obi-Wan wants to get back to the Temple, but whatever the actual hell is going on with Anakin is too big to just ignored.

A specific day comes and goes. Anakin is a mess of jitters and nerves, and finally Obi-Wan asks just the wrong (right?) question, and... they visit Shmi.

Anakin says they can talk later, he just wants to see his mom One Last Time.

(Obi-Wan is getting more and more worried, but he sits through the incredibly awkward meeting between Anakin and his alt-universe mom, watches as Anakin has no idea what to say and almost cries, and Shmi just kind of lets him do that and Beru--a sweet girl, Obi-Wan thinks, and very practical--tells him that this is all very normal for reunited slaves.)

(Obi-Wan wonders if maybe there’s some stuff Anakin never told him about how being a slave affected him.)

(Obi-Wan had thought they’d moved past most of this, but..)

The meeting ends. There’s hugging.

They get back to the ship, and Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin fall apart. Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin cry and scream into a pillow, hyperventilate and nearly punch a hole in the wall as he rages about how it was all for nothing! Obi-Wan gets to watch Anakin break into a million pieces in a way he’s never seen before.

Obi-Wan gets a confession.

Anakin tells him about the Tuskens.

It’s not an easy conversation. It’s not a short conversation, either. Anakin’s full of pain and misery and rising guilt, talks about how he’s been asking himself if it would be easier to keep his mother safe if he just killed them all now, except Obi-Wan would know, and be disappointed, and sure the Chancellor had said that they were little more than rabid animals, but Anakin doesn’t think he can kill the younglings again when his mom is still fine, and--

Obi-Wan sedates him.

He wants to say that he’s not proud of this, but... Anakin isn’t well. Anakin isn’t well in a way that is currently, specifically, revolving around doing extreme violence. Anakin is talking about going out and committing a slaughter as preventative maintenance.

Anakin stays sedated until they get back to the Temple, and he’s put in Force-suppressant cuffs--Obi-Wan quietly tells them to use something that can’t be sliced or taken apart by a droid specialist, and to avoid collars because Anakin was a slave for nearly a decade, and has a lot of traumatic associations--and in an isolated room.

It’s not a cell. Not technically.

He can’t just leave, though.

Obi-Wan hates himself for it, just a little. He doesn’t want to be doing this, not to his padawan, his brother, his son, but... a massacre. Even the younglings, he’d said.

(“He said he didn’t think he could do it again,” Obi-Wan mutters, half to himself and half to the mind healer that asks for his rundown of the situation. “I think he knows it was wrong, but...”)

(But he still did it, of course.)

It’s... better than Obi-Wan feared, but worse than he hoped.

Anakin is emotionally unstable. He has been, for a long time, but he’s usually functional. When the mind healer isn’t directly poking at his worst wounds, Anakin can more or less pass for... not okay, necessarily, but no worse than anyone else in the war had. He can say the right words. He can do a joint meditation. He can talk about philosophy the way a Knight that’s taken all the right classes does.

But part of Anakin still holds to the idea that the Tuskens deserved to die.

“This is my fault,” Obi-Wan whispers, more than once, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. “I should have...”

“He was an adult,” says Mace, who isn’t Mace, not the one that Obi-Wan knows, but a newer friend, one that’s still figuring how to act around him. “Young, but still an adult. He made that choice.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. Things aren’t that simple.

“The timing can’t have been a coincidence,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself, later on, but in the same spot, and the same position.

The Quinlan of this universe shrugs. He knows Obi-Wan better than most, right now. Psychometry’s helpful that way, and sharing Obi-Wan’s heat hadn’t hurt. “Seems likely. You said Sith were involved and setting traps, and a kid like yours, with that much power and trauma... ripe for the molding.”

Obi-Wan whines, and then catches the noise and stuffs it back down, locks it up tight with the other ‘instinct’ things he doesn’t like to think about having. The sound already has Quinlan shifting closer, and the smell is... intended to be comforting, he thinks. Reacting to his own distress, which he’s probably just pumping out right now, because he still doesn’t know how to--

“Can I help?” Quinlan asks, and Obi-Wan lets him.

Someone gets through to Anakin, maybe, or he just lets himself be ground down, or Obi-Wan’s entreaties that he can’t teach Ahsoka until he understands his crimes get through. He won’t be trusted around the clones until the Jedi can trust him to do the right thing, they inform him.

“I wouldn’t hurt the clones.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that until you understand your crimes and truly, actually feel remorse for them.”

There wasn’t a crime, technically. Not in this universe. That tribe is still alive, here, unknowing of the fate they escaped by dint of Anakin talking himself down from committing another slaughter.

(He tells the mind healer it’s because Obi-Wan was there.)

(He might have done it, he says, if he hadn’t thought Obi-Wan would be disappointed in him.)

(He says it like it’s a foregone conclusion, that Obi-Wan’s opinion is worth more than the horror of what he might become.)

“We’re going to keep an eye on anyone talking to Palpatine,” Shaak tells him one day, after Anakin’s been mental instability hold for two weeks. “We don’t know for sure how far the similarities extend from your universe to ours, but given everything else you’ve been right about...”

“That bad?” Obi-Wan asks.

Shaak grimaces, fangs glinting in the light. “I want to believe we’d have never allowed a child into such a position, but I can’t know what political leverage may have been used in your dimension... whatever reason was had to put Skywalker in those rooms, we know the consequences now--”

“What did he do to my padawan?” Obi-Wan demands, because Anakin won’t even tell him that. Anakin hasn’t mentioned Palpatine since they left Tatooine. Not to Obi-Wan.

“Nothing physical,” Shaak manages. “But the lies he told and the suggestions he planted... it’s good they haven’t met again yet in this life. We’ll all be keeping them far apart.”

He wants to take solace in that. “Why do you know before I do?”

“Skywalker values your opinion,” she says. “Only yours. He doesn’t want you more disappointed in him than you already are, so much of what is relayed to the council as a matter of security goes no further, but this was deemed necessary to share. He agreed to it, if you worried we’d broken his confidence.”

Anakin’s therapy would normally be entirely private.

Anakin’s therapy would normally not be in response to confessions of mass slaughter.

He hasn’t asked to be let out, which Obi-Wan hopes is a sign that he realizes at least subconsciously that he was in the wrong. The mind healer says he could have been released under watch by a Master probably a day or two after he arrived, but seems to be drawing some kind of comfort in knowing he couldn’t hurt someone even if he tried.

Obi-Wan is Anakin’s emergency contact. His next of kin. His healthcare proxy. Anakin has a right to privacy, minor as it is in such a situation, and everyone recognizes and treats him as an adult, but... Obi-Wan learns as much from the mind-healer as he would have back when Anakin was actually a child.

“He trusts you to make the right decisions,” the mind healer tells him, careful and unassuming. “He has... a lot of conflicting opinions about many things, including the order, the coming war, the nature of human reproductive dynamics, the Code... but he seems keen on the idea that you are his best reference on morality and ethics.”

Oh, good, more horrifying responsibility.

“He’s better,” the mind healer tells him. “I want to get him out of here before he starts going stir crazy while still relying on the perceived safety as a crutch for his mental health. And he--”

“He’ll be staying with me,” Obi-Wan says, heavy as anything. “I know.”

“Well... there’s a war coming,” the mind healer says. She offers a thin smile when he looks at her. “I don’t want him going out, but it makes him feel useful, gives him a direction for the aggression, and... the Council is adamant that we’ll need him as much as we need you.”

It’s true.

“Did he tell you why everyone called him the Hero With No Fear?”

“No.”

“Ask him.”

[manunelle]

{Ikerev} How many kids would they have? {Headcanon}

I’m kind of creating this post to organize my thoughts, because I want to write more about this in another post where I’ll write about how they are with their children and how I imagine their personalities. Please be aware that I imagine a different MC for each suitor, so the kids exist in the same universe lol

🖤 Black Army 🖤 

Ray Blackwell

One boy.

He was adopted by Ray and MC at age of 3. His father was one of Ray’s soldier who unfortunately passed away in duty. Since he had no mother or relatives that could take care of them, MC and Ray took him in. 

He prefers MC over Ray, but admires his dad very much!

Sirius Oswald

oh boy

This man and MC had 5 children! :) 

I kind of enjoy the thought of Sirius retiring because he wants to spend as much time as he can with his family. 

They have three girls and two boys. The order goes like this: Girl ---> Twins (boy and girl) ---> Boy ---> Girl. 

Would name his kids after flowers. 

The kids get along very well! They are really protective of each other and of their parents.

Luka Clemence

One boy as well. 

His kid is really sweet! He’s really friendly and everybody loves him at school. 

Is kind of a younger brother to Jonah’s girls. 

Talking about Jonah, he’s the best uncle ever. Always brings gifts and gives advices about anything that is troubling the boy. 

He’s doesn’t have a favorite parent. He’s close to both!

Fenrir Gospeed

Had two kids, a son and a daughterl. 

The firstborn is the boy, and the girl is six years younger. 

To his and MC’s surprise, the boy is a magic user! They discovered it when MC was bathing her baby when suddenly he started floating and giggling around. Imagine Fenrir and MC screaming and jumping around, trying to reach their son, who is having the time of his life. 

The girl is not a magic user, so she causes less trouble than her brother. She’s friends with Ray’s son.

Seth Hyde

One girl.

She has Seth’s hair and MC’s eyes, and likes to dress cute clothes and to play with her teddy bear. 

She’s reeeeaaaally shy. :< 

She probably prefers Seth over MC, but she doesn’t make it obvious. Of course, she likes her mother very much as well. But Seth’s hugs are something else. :> 

❤️ Red Army ❤️ 

Lancelot Kingsley

The next King of Hearts is a girl! 

She looks mostly like Lancelot, but her hair shape resembles MC’s. 

She’s really carismatic and smart, which means that she can hold a conversation with an adult without difficulties. 

She’s a friendly and curious little girl, always asking about how and why things work the way they do. 

As a magic user, she’s really interested in Harr’s work and gets along well with his daughter. 

Loves her dad! She looks up to him a lot and is not embarassed of asking him for advices and hugs.

Jonah Clemence

Our queen has two daughters. 

They are only 2 years apart, so they get along very well with each other. 

Honestly, they have Jonah completely wrapped around their little fingers. This man would go to the fucking moon if they wanted something from there. 

Despite being spoiled rotten, the girls are really gentle and caring with those around them. thank u so much mc

Because the younger sister is shyer, Jonah teaches his firstborn from a young age that she should always be nice and take care of her younger sister. 

They love baking! Imagine the MC and her two daughter baking cookies on the kitchen to present the man of their lives later. ;A; so cute

Edgar Bright

Edgar has one girl and one boy. 

Due to her fragile health, his daughter, the firstborn, won’t be able to become the next Jack of Hearts. She always smiles and says that it doesn’t bother her, but she gets self concious when hearing adults commenting about it. She also feels bad for passing the burden of being the heir to her younger brother. 

The boy is calm and serious, which is kind of weird bc his face looks way too much with MC’s. He’s really protective of his parents and his sister. Loves animals, just like his dad! He’s smart and strong, but is really aloof. MC and Edgar are always worried about him bc he doesn’t seem to want friends. 

The girl is bffs with Lancelot’s daughter and Kyle’s son.

Zero

One daughter! 

She has MC’s hair and his eyes. She’s really pretty! 

She’s friendly and is always smiling. Since she’s younger than the other kids of the Red Army (Kyle’s second son is actually the youngest, but he is still a baby lol), they kind of treat her as a young sister, always hugging and patting her head. 

She’s really curious around everything. Actually, her personality resembles Lancelot’s daughter’s a lot. 

Loves watching her father training with the soldiers! At the end of every session, she goes running towards him demanding hugs.

Kyle Ash

Two boys. They have an age gap of 12 years.

His firstborn had a really fragile health as a child, to the point of having to take constant shots and Kyle having to perform different treatments on his child. Seeing their child suffer was really difficult for Kyle and MC, and at some point they even thought that he wouldn’t survive childhood. However, aroung age 8, the signs of this disease started decreasing and he got better. 

Kyle is still worried about his son, so he always keeps a close watch on him to see if those symptons will come back someday. 

Because they were always busy taking care of their older son, MC and Kyle decided to not have other children. So it was a big surprise when they discovered MC’s second pregnancy. 

Surprisingly, their second son has no health problems. As a baby, he’s really serious and likes to nap a lot. 

Both boys look a lot like Kyle. The older one looks the most, while the younger has MC’s eyes. 

Mousse Atlas

Has one son. 

The boy is a MC’s appearence copy with Mousse’s personalit copy. 

Just like his dad, loves napping. 

Naps everywhere. 

Everywhere. 

Once, when dusting some shelves, Luka found him sleeping in the Black Army’s library. 

How in the hell did this kid get here? 

He always goes missing. Like, at one moment he’s standing right next do MC and in the next second he disappears. Dude??? 

Actually, he’s a magic user, which explains him disappearing all the time and reaching things that are in a place way higher than him. However, he doesn’t tell it to his parent until he’s sixteen bc he’s afraid of disappointing them (bc he heard from some idiot that magic users are way too dangerous).

💚 Neutral 💚 

Harr Silver

He has one daughter. 

She has his hair and MC’s eyes. 

Since she’s a magic user, she and Harr are always excitingly talking about magic books and researchs. He also teaches her about spells and skills unrelated to magic, such as cooking and fishing. 

She’s really shy, and because kids used to bully her at school and adults ignored the situation, she has a really hard time socializing with people that are not her family.

Loves cats! As a toddler, Loki gave her a cat plushie and she is really attached to it. 

Gets along with Sirius’s oldest daughter and Lancelot’s, but I’ll talk more about this in another post. 

Likes to sleep with her parents. It’s hard to get up in the morning bc she is pratically glued to the one she is hugging.

Loki Genetta

One son. He’s the youngest among the 17 suitors (bc Loki is fucking 19 years old in canon universe, duh). 

The boy is always stealing MC’s attention, always glaring at Loki. Loki glares back because he’s a man-child. 

Actually, they get along very well when the issue is not MC, and the boy trusts Loki a lot, sharing secrets and asking for help when in need of assistance. 

His looks and personality are a carbon copy of Loki’s. 

Always follows Ray’s son and Fenrir’s daughter around. 

Oliver Knight

One daughter, and Oliver loves her so much!

She looks a lot like MC, both in looks and personality. 

Being a bit naive, she’s always getting in trouble. Thank god her friends are always ready to rescue her! Is bffs with Sirius’s second daughter. 

Boys love her. Girls too. As a teenager, she’s always having to turn down confessions. She tries to be gentle, but some people are just too bold for her to deal with. That’s when Sirius’s daughter and son (the twins!) enter and deal with whoever is bothering her. 

She kind of has a crush on Sirius’s oldest son, but is too embarassed to admit. 

Oliver knows, but doesn’t want her to know that he knows. It’s kind of tough to hide, bc when the boy shows up at his house he’s always fumming with jealousy. 

Blanc Lapin

Mister Blanc has one son.

He’s calm and smart. 

Loves tea parties! Dad’s carrot cake is the best.

Loves his mom. Loves his dad. Loves his friends. 

He’s a sunshine. Everybody loves him. 

Dean Tweedle

Has only one daughter. 

Her looks and personality are a perfect mix of her parents’. 

Sleeps only if her dad reads to her. Otherwise, she stays the whole night staring at ceiling with a bored expression. 

Is really smart and responsable. She’s the perfect “senpai” at school. 

Is bffs with Sirius’ oldest daughter. 

She and Dalim’s son look really alike, so people are always mistaking them as siblings. Dalim and Dean always get annoyed at this.

Dalim Tweedle/Dum

Has one son.

Just like Dean’s daughter, his looks are a mix of his parent’s, but his personality is a bit different. Despite being really curious, he’s really quiet and hesitant of asking questions aloud. 

Is a magic user. 

Sees Dean’s daughter as a big sister. Is always attached to her hand when they meet and follows her around like a shadow. 

Probably prefers his mom over Dalim. 

[tcm]

Tony Curtis: A Portrait of an Artist By Raquel Stecher

"I'd like to be known as an artist who acts rather than an actor who paints.” — Tony Curtis

There were two things that got Tony Curtis through his traumatic childhood: movies and art. Born Bernard Schwartz in 1925, the young Curtis went through a lot as a child. His family struggled to put food on the table, his mother and youngest brother Robert had severe mental health issues, he was temporarily placed in an orphanage when his family could no longer afford to keep him and his brother Julius died in a freak accident. As a result, Curtis suffered from depressive episodes and found an escape watching his heroes Cary Grant and Errol Flynn on the big screen. When he wasn’t watching movies, he found solace in drawing. To keep him occupied, Curtis’ father, a tailor by trade, gave him tailor’s chalk, pencils, crayons and brown wrapping paper which Curtis would use for drawing. He also used different colored chalk to draw images on sidewalks and slabs of concrete.

Curtis would take his fascination with the silver screen and turn it into a successful acting career, starring in films such as THE DEFIANT ONES (’58), SOME LIKE IT HOT (’59) and SPARTACUS (’60). But his love for art never left him. Completely self-taught, Curtis would take any opportunity to hone his skills as artist. He would often bring an easel, canvas and paints to a film set so he could paint whenever he had some free time. If that was too cumbersome, he’d bring paper and ink pens for drawing. Over time, Curtis developed an eye for perspective, shape and color. In his memoir he wrote, “Art was an antidote for the deep depressions that I suffered as a child… I liked drawing what I was thinking or seeing. It became a driving force in my life.”

Curtis was a conceptual artist who had a gift for abstract impressionism. He was influenced by the work of many legendary artists including Van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse, Balthus, Magritte and Miró. He felt that the great artists spoke through their paintings, and he would take from their work as inspiration for his own. He met some artists in his many travels as an actor, including Marc Chagall whom he greatly admired. He was particularly inspired by Joseph Cornell, an artist who pioneered the art of collage and assemblage in box form. Curtis would collect a variety of unrelated objects and arrange them in old cigar or trinket boxes and let the assemblage tell a story.

For Curtis, the mere act of painting gave him great joy and every brushstroke a performance. He loved working within the confined space of the canvas. His paintings consisted of oil on canvas, and acrylic on paper (sometimes even handmade paper) and he would also paint over giclee prints of photographs transforming them into Warhol-like designs. He used bold strokes of color and alternating patterns to create lively and vibrant pieces. Rarely did Curtis ever do portraiture, preferring instead to paint still life assemblages; table settings, flowers, fruit, landscapes and animals in repose. About his process, Curtis said “when I paint, I don’t paint shapes, I paint colors. The most difficult thing to do is verbalize a painting. When I start painting, I have no idea what I’m going to do. The first color I use--that tells me where the painting is going. It paints itself, and the painting tells me when it’s finished. It’s almost as if it does it for me.”

After his rehabilitation for drug addiction in the 1980s and with his acting career starting to wind down, Tony Curtis found solace in painting. He shifted gears towards becoming a full-time artist and a part-time actor. Curtis briefly moved to Hawaii to paint and exhibit his work at a Honolulu gallery. His paintings were exhibited in Los Angeles, New York City and Paris. Famous friends including Billy Wilder, Lew Wasserman, Frank Sinatra, Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas all purchased some of Curtis’ work. 

In 2005, the Museum of Modern Art acquired his acrylic painting Red Table, something Curtis was particularly proud. Other pieces of his can be found on display at the Butler Institute of American Art, the Toronto Museum, the National Hungarian Museum and various restaurants and businesses. One of his pieces, Tropical Splendor, sold at Sotheby’s for $10,000 in 2018, eight years after his death. In life, Curtis was never preoccupied with selling his work or the admiration that came with galley exhibitions. Instead he was perfectly content to hold on to pieces, adorning every nook and cranny of his Las Vegas home with them. If he did part with his paintings, he often gifted them to friends or charity.

Tony Curtis’ artwork never garnered the same attention as his acting career but that was perfectly fine with him. He was just happy to be able to do something he truly loved. Curtis once said about his paintings, “I just paint them. And I don’t even care if people like them or not — If I like it, that’s what matters. I paint for myself.”

[knchins]

ALLLYYYYYYY CONGRATS AGAIN ON 1K!! :D 🌈✨🥂🤩 i wanted a matchup bit i get super duper self conscious typing them out aisnwkwkns is it 🐾sible to get one based on how much u know abt me? 😳👉👈 it’s ok if not!!

Io!! Yes of course! I’ll do my best with what I know about you :>

I match you with...

Hizashi Yamada!!

Chaotic? yes. Loyal and loving? Also yes!

Hizashi would be a very fun partner. He’s playful and loud, but he’s also very considerate and caring. His love for you runs deep and if anyone tries to hurt you, they have to go through him first! He has a good sense about people and could tell from the start how amazing you are.

He’s a DJ so he knows all the best music and would love to make new playlists for you to enjoy. He doesn’t mind branching out to other genres that he may not be totally familiar with, but honestly its hard to find any music that he doesn’t enjoy. Instead of asking you out forthright, he actually made you a mix tape that basically got his message across for him. Of course you accepted.

Not only does he know his music, he also loves dancing! This is perfect because he could dance all night with you! Similarly he also enjoys just watching you or helping you come up with choreography. He’s just a well rounded guy when it comes to the music industry.

He’d also find creative ways to help you study or motivate you to get your work done. If you have a creative block then he does anything in his power to help get your creativity back!

Perfect date would be going out on the town, dancing and enjoying each other’s company. Maybe even a bit of karaoke if you’re feeling brave enough! Well Hizashi definitely feels brave enough but he won’t force you up on stage if you don’t want to.

Akiteru Tsukishima!!

Plus that makes Kei kinda like your little brother too, right?? What a nightmare.

Akiteru would definitely make for a great boyfriend. He’s devoted and kind, and isn’t a total ass like his brother. He’s also really perceptive so he knows if you’re feeling down or need a little cheering up! He’s great at making you laugh and loves making you smile.

He loves that you’re multilingual and have a multitude of creative talents. Really he’s very proud to show you off and definitely feels like he has the best girlfriend out of all his friends. He enjoys letting you do tarot readings on him and makes it a habit of asking what his horoscope is every morning. He could just look it up himself but he prefers you to tell him.

Though he will poke fun at you, it’s never in a malicious way. It’s simply a way to get you to laugh. If his brother says something he thinks is out of line though, he is quick to put him in his place. His jokes are good natured while the same can’t always be said for Kei. Still, Akiteru won’t let his brother bully you.

You both are kind and caring and have a deep emotional connection as you’re both water signs. He’s also good at hyping you up and encouraging you to complete projects or hone your craft. He’s your very best personal cheerleader which is always nice to have. A bit unrelated but he could give you all the cute stationary you could ever ask from from his work.

The perfect date would probably be going to one of Kei’s volleyball games after a nice dinner at your favorite restaurant. You can both cheer on the brat from the sideline, much to his chagrin.

Edgar Allen Poe!!

Not only a good boyfriend but also a great editor!

Poe is a bit shy, but he definitely asked you out via poetry. It was a bit convoluted and really long, but you definitely appreciated the sweet sentiment. Hopefully it didn’t get too dark for you, sometimes he doesn’t realize that not everyone is into the macabre.

As a writer himself, he definitely loves that one of your hobbies is also writing. You would definitely take turns editing each others works and giving constructive critiques. Of course, he’ll ask if you think his latest mystery is unsolvable enough to send to Ranpo but you’ll be honest with him which he appreciates. You also both help each other when you hit a block, usually by going out on dates or providing some sort of distraction until the creative juices can flow again.

Your creativity definitely is one of the things that first attracted him to you. He believes that your ideas are limitless and it is always fun for him to bounce off new plot ideas with you. You also help him to write realistic woman characters which a lot of male writers tend to falter on. Overall this makes him a better, well-rounded writer and he enjoys the positive reviews he gets on his characterization.

Also he has a pet raccoon! Karl and Cutiepie would make for such cute companions together. Poe loves and cares for Cutiepie just as you do for Karl. It’s really cute how your pets can get along just as well as you do. Perhaps Karl could teach Cutiepie how to ride on your shoulders....

The perfect date would be mystery theater! The interactive kind where you have to figure out who the killer is. The food will be great and the entertainment is even better. Poe would definitely figure it out first, but only with your help. It would be very memorable and fun!

Akitaru Obi!!

His a big beefy captain, what more is there to love?

Obi is such a dedicated and loving partner that anyone would be lucky to have him! He’s a natural born leader just like you and has a keen sense of justice. He also has a good sense of humor and doesn’t mind joking around to lighten the mood. Though he is definitely the type to be serious when the situation calls for it.

He love working out and sees dancing as a great cardio routine. He’d definitely ask you to teach him so that you both could enjoy it together. While it’s not a traditional workout, it can definitely get the heart rate up and sweat flowing. Plus it never hurts to be limber, no matter how big you are! Especially when doing active and dangerous work like battling infernals.

While he’s definitely more of a rock music fan, he doesn’t mind listening to pop. Plus It can just be fun to listen to somethings. He’ll let you pick a new song or artist for him and he’ll give his honest opinion on how he feels about it. He’ll do the same for you. It’s a bonding experience you both share that he truly enjoys.

Obi prefers dogs to cats but he’ll still be a great cat dad to Cutiepie. Though if he falls asleep on his workout equipment, Obi definitely wouldn’t have the hear to move him and would resign to doing something else. That can frustrate him a bit but only because he cares.

The perfect date I think would probably be a concert of your choosing. He would gladly pay for the tickets, not really caring who the artist was as long as you were happy to see them. He’d definitely lift you up on his shoulders so you could get the perfect view from the crowd, though the people behind you aren’t so happy about it.

Megumi Fushiguro!!

He can kind of be an enigma sometimes but he’s very devoted to you.

Megumi took a while to open up, he tends to keep his thoughts and feelings private, but through time you were able to crack through that outer wall of his and see him for who he really is. Because of this you can read him fairly well which means he doesn’t have to worry about being overly expressive. His kind heart makes him an excellent partner and he’ll fight anyone that tries to lay a hand on you.

He has a clear sense of good and bad, but you do help him see that the world isn’t necessary black and white like he tends to view it. This does help him grow as a sorcerer and challenge his initial perception of people. His cold demeanor against people he feels aren’t worth saving is a bit thawed out, enabling him to help more people in the end.

Also he has his arsenal of adorable shikigami to play with! If you’re feeling down or maybe need your spirits lifted up, he’ll deploy his divine dogs to devour you with love and affection. Their playfully puppy-like attitude when not on the battlefield makes them super fun to play with and be around. They will also be respectful of any other animals in the area and won’t chase and harass them. There’s also Rabbit Escape where he can cover you with a pile of fluffy bunnies.

Megumi isn’t very creative himself so he really enjoys the fact that he has a partner who is. He also quite enjoys reading, though he prefers nonfiction he would definitely read anything that you write and tell you how he feels about it.

The perfect date would entail Megumi cooking for you! He’d make all your favorite foods and you could eat by candlelight before snuggling on the couch with a good movie. It’s simple but sweet and he enjoys the comfortable laid-back atmosphere you bring.

Event Page

[nightcoremoon]

so for the first time I saw batman: the killing joke.

...

it was okay I guess. but massively overrated. I expected some fucking masterpiece of cinema but instead it was just two unrelated short films that were more style and flash than substance.

so first off, barbara's storyline was mediocre. franz wasn't a compelling villain; just a creep, and a trust fund brat. oh wow he's a mafia kid who stole his family's fortune by hacking. if it was the falcone family I'd have cared more but it wasn't so it's just some faceless deathfodder rando. who gives a shit. the whole situation was just a vehicle to shove batman's dick into babs. which kinda fucks over bruce's character here and judging by the timeline kinda makes him a bit of a groomer, yikes. bruce and gordon have known each other since bruce was a young boy and we know that bruce is way older than babs so yeah bruce totally knew her from birth until present day, he literally utilized an active power dynamic to police her crimefighting activities, and he should have fucking known better and stopped her when she kissed him because it would (and did) compromise their professional dynamic, but hey, batdick. and at least barbara recognized that she was behaving emotionally rather than logically when it came to bruce and paris and took the high road out. that would be a serviceable standalone episode to write her on a bus in a serialization but THIS IS A MOVIE. so for a waste of an already short runtime it's like having an appetizer before your meal but instead of something like a crab cake before stuffed flounder, you get greasy onion petals that are more fried batter than onion before getting a well done cheeseburger that's just a glorified hockey puck on a sponge with a kraft single on top. the animation and vocal delivery were excellent of course, not gonna disparage that aspect, so it was well made, but the writing was just not very good. a polished turd. quantic dream must have developed it then because it feels like I watched a david cage production.

so in a 78 minute movie, five of which were the credits, we had a half hour Disney/Pixar short except those bring joy and this brought boring. also there were a lot of shots of her ass tits and underwear that were obnoxiously male-gazey and there was a token gay for the sole purpose of dangling a carrot on a stick for the queers. look kids, warner brothers and dc comics cares about the lgbts! give us money! a waste of time before the real reason why anyone came to see the movie that literally only exists to pad out the runtime to make it a feature length (even though paying a full ticket would've been a total ripoff because, again, IT WAS ONLY 78. even 9 was 81 minutes long and that had an amazing storyline so I forgave it, but 78 minutes? ugh.

also, GOTHAM RAGE??? CRINGE. SO CRINGE.

alright now for the joker segment.

*ahem*

what the fuck? that sucked! *throws tomato*

mark hamill and the joker's lines and the art and the cinematography and the choreography was all good and the plot was cohesive. I get it.

but holy shit was the writing weak as fuck.

okay so some rando breaks the J-ster out of Arkham (already unlikely but ugh whatever), he didn't turn a trick or recruit or anything, he just went to purchase a carnival. or, steal one. but wait, he DID recruit, but he went to get all of the stereotypical Circus Freak™ stereotypes. little people, fat lady, bearded lady, wolf man, strongman, diaper man (wait, what?), and the two headed woman. I guess if you don't really think about why all of them were super readily available in the outskirts between arkham and gotham [i just realized they both end with -am] then it makes enough sense. and then literally right after that HE RECRUITS SOME GUYS TO HELP HIM KIDNAP GORDON. and then strips and photographs barbara. um. ew. you can tell the writer and director were men. Alan Moore is constantly molesting women in his comics and this one trick pony should be put down already. but whatever. the plot is weak and it only gets saved by the flashback sequences.

oh.

oh no.

they're not that great.

he's a failed unfunny comedian who just wants some money to move his wife to a better house so he turns to thievery with the mob. OR YOU COULD JUST STOP GOING TO THE BAR AND BLOWING IT ALL ON BOOZE. I mean the cops knew where to find him after all so clearly he's a repeat customer (or moore is a bad plot writer who relies on convenience and shut the fuck up and don't critically analyze it). alright so he gets wrapped up in the mob to perform a heist on a playing card factory. GET IT, BECAUSE HE'S THE JOKER??? and he uses the moniker of the red hood to retain his anonymity. I expected the mobsters to be working for francisco but no the paris storyline was only cooked up screenplay for passing the runtime so why would they do something clever and interesting and make the film cohesive? that'd be really stupid to make the movie feel more like one movie and not two short films. at least when grindhouse & planet terror did it they advertised themselves as an anthology film. whatever. he falls in the vat of acid which melts the red hood to his face and I gotta say that's actually a pretty good idea to get his face white and his hair green and his lips red. I like that part. oh wait I forgot about the most important part! his wife gets shoved in the refrigerator. OH WOW THAT'S JUST SO COMPELLING AND ORIGINAL, TOTALLY NOT SOMETHING THAT ALREADY HAPPENED TO GREEN LANTERN. TWICE. although she wasn't literally shoved into a literal refrigerator like alex was. rip in frozen pieces you absolute legend of a trope namer. alright, so... so the joker is sad because his wife died. you know, the wife we saw for two minutes and knew the moment we saw her drenched in sepia she was gonna die. and she died offscreen. kyle's gf died and he was fine. gordon's wife died and he was fine. batman's parents both died and he was fine. oh boo hoo someone I love died! fuck off. I am so goddamn sick of people trying to justify their evil with "I was sad once". it's a stupid trope and it's not compelling. the only valid version is doctor doofenshmirtz' evil(er) version in the PF movie because it's hilarious that it's because of a toy train because that's the emotional depth that fridgewomen is treated with in all of these storylines. but at least batman said so. oh yeah, I almost totally forgot, batman's in this movie.

batman punches people and nonlethally takes them out. by suffocating them and letting them get stabbed and throwing them into pits of spikes and HEY WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND! okay let's just ignore that bit and hope that the little people squeezed between the gaps in the spikes and the strongman could breathe in the face mask and the two headed women had KO gas and the fat lady was fat enough that the knives only stabbed her cellulite. it wouldn't be the biggest reach one would have to make in watching this fucking disaster of a plot mess.

now I did like that it was actually batman, and by that I mean he gave a shit about the insane because he recognizes that mental illness is not a cause of dangerous or criminal behavior, just a potential exacerbating factor if it wasn't treated. yeah he brutalized mobsters and crime lords but they were mostly in self defense while gathering intel. he politely asked sal maroni and the sex workers for information and they gave it to him without violence- he manhandled maroni but only after he reached into his pocket for a cigar which could've been a gun. also batman says sex work should be decriminalized if only by not ratting them out to the cops. he was a genuinely good person in the second half of the movie. too bad it was ruined by the shitty first half that made him a borderline groomer.

joker's song was... bad. mark hamill performed his ass off but the song wasn't that good. it just tried to be willy wonka if he was a voyeuristic monster. oh yeah have the only girl character be paralyzed stripped and photographed only to give her father ManPain™. again... the fuck? joker and batman were both gross but, again. male writers. if it was a one-off I could drop a thermian argument because, alright one and done makes sense, especially 1988 standards. but it saturated and soured the entire goddamn movie because of abhorrent pacing decisions. so you're goddamn right I'm gonna bring it up twice! joker was a creep, his plan was dumb, nolan and burton and lord/miller and even ayer had better motivations. YES I AM SAYING THAT JARED LETO'S JOKER HAD BETTER WRITING THAN MARK HAMILL'S JOKER. not nearly to the level of ledger nicholson or galifanakis but hamill didn't have a lot to work with here and I maintain that his performance was amazing; honestly I like his the best out of all of them but just... not here. but I think I can cut some slack to firelord ozai and luke skywalker even if he just phoned it in here which he didn't. writing was just weak. and that's all there is to it. don't anon me and threaten to remove my bones ok?

alright so batman and joker fought and joker got the upper hand and was gonna kill him but it was a prop gun. haha. they had a heart to heart and batman tells joker that he wants to help him get better, even after joker killed robin and molested barbara and traumatized gordon and did countless other travesties, he still said he would help. but joker said no, and told a joke that was good enough to make batman laugh. and then the credits rolled.

...

what a completely pointless and empty ending. oh it's deep and meaningful and poignant? ok sure, I guess, movie, but you didn't earn that. shyamalan did the same thing a dozen times. that doesn't make him any less of a shit writer.

I can understand the concept of batman laughing at joker's joke, humanizing him.

I get it. I see what they tried to do. I respect it.

but this movie was massively overhyped and overrated and I expected it to be so much better than it was. but overall to me it was just another batman cartoon to throw on top of the pile. maybe it was influential to graphic novels. maybe it shaped batman into what he is today. it published right as tim burton's movie and I can respect its place in the pantheon of comic history. but sometimes things that are classic...

aren't that great.

citizen kane, casablanca, the maltese falcon, the treasure of the sierra madre, gone with the wind, singing in the rain, all of them are classic and legendary pieces of art. but they're just not that good, interesting, appealing, watchable, or FUN. they were good at the time- I mean come on we all know them today- but on going back you'd have to really appreciate the finer details to still love the movies today. and this belongs there, in the vault, to be appreciated from afar. influential if dated.

but god am I still disappointed nonetheless.

TL;DR

it was just okay. had some good ideas, had some really bad ideas, had some ugly stuff. overall mediocre. first half 5/10, second half 7/10, overall 6/10.

[blaster-aichi]

Cardfight!! Vanguard Extra Story IF 22 things

forgot to post this, heck

Aw, cute shopping trip because they feel things are drawing to an end, barrier or no —  [gets distracted by the little girl who looks just like Shingo]

Given the topic of conversation, felt Emi’s downcast expression was a hint of bittersweet realization that her time with Shuka is running down, then get smacked with even ruder sads.

There’s something massive ironic about Majesty Lord being pulled to the antagonistic side of battle after his role in the original Season 1 and embodying unification between Royal and Shadow Paladins when things get dire, now faced against the both of them.

Ren taught Shuka ‘Bukki’, bless.

Very appreciative of the explanation why Majesty Lord was so importaant to Shuka to Realize, though curious as to why he wouldn’t manifest in the first place.

MISAKI SIGHTED. Please don’t relegate her to post-Legion Mate Quatre Knights of voiceless cameos.

Side-eyes Emi for picking cards purely because of their cuteness, your friend’s calling you out.

With the truth of what led Aichi to ruling Sanctuary, Emi’s moment of finding no alternative but for the blame to fall on him is very relatable; at least some of us have been grasping at any explanation because we couldn’t imagine Aichi doing this of his own will, it’s incongruous with his character, and Emi may have been doing the same, but with options whittling down, she’s been forced to face that scenario that this has been all by his design and it upsets those of us who have been trying to figure out any other scenario, but to her, naturally it’s world-shattering.

How dare you fuckers use the same sads track from episode 7 where she was talking about the Aichi she knew.

He looks so worn down and I’m so upset.    — Even his tone when speaking reflects his exhaustion and reluctance to deal with shit. Please let me hug him.

Is this the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’? Feels like this is the first time he’s said ‘Toshiki’.

Even when they don’t meet, fate crams them into one another’s heads. That’s gay. (But doesn’t go the Legion Mate route and make it a clean injection, both of them have become tremendously distressed and pained and I scream).

Takuto, you can’t just say that in front of him?!

Emi actually draping Aichi’s jacket over her shoulders is so cute, she really is giving it a piggyback ride. After he mentioning it aloud how he left it behind, half-expect returning it to be one of her first gestures once he’s brought out of his antagonist role.

Takuto’s referencing Outside World Aichi brings back thoughts of the previous theory that IF Aichi had been doing all this in an effort to reach outside IF, why do you hurt me in these ways after that backstory, Bushi? At the same time, Takuto needs shaking if he had any inclination that IF Aichi would have the mental fortitude to cope with that possibility existing elsewhere after a lifetime of loneliness.

The poor boy hid in the shadows and hunted for Kai-kun just to verify Takuto’s theory and torment himself more, sweetie no... Considering his methods for keeping his very existence from the potential of breaking the IF illusion, it’s consistent, but sweetie no...

Takuto onto Aichi’s bullshit. The post before this clarifies, but his solemn delivery and feeling responsible for accidentally instigating everything, would like to hope he’ll be able to make a move in helping to rectify Aichi’s state.

Two things: You’re saying he had nothing to pass on through Miwa? And why did he never contact Suiko or Rekka before? Because there was no certainty they were inside IF? Isn’t it apparent they would follow once he and Kourin never returned? Did he even try?

Sad Rena howling noises in the background.

If Aichi is banking on her saving him, never let him know there was a moment where it all got too much and Emi gave up on him.    — She’s doing the Misaki episode thing again.    — Though it’s understandable the guilt she must feel; they might be correcting the timeline, but she’s conveyed her feelings before that each iteration of a person isn’t any less valid than another; though Kai-kun has come to terms with and accepted that there is another version of himself in a “proper” timeline, the same is essentially true for Aichi and Emi, who for all we know, could/will vanish along with him. It might not just be Emi sympathizing with others and not wanting to write them off as incorrect versions, but trying to validate her own and her brother’s existences as well.

Suiko and Shuka are onto the price the group are going to pay regardless; the preview isn’t subtle about it. Whether it’s Shuka having to move onto another place where more cards are waiting for her to rescue them or something more final awaits her, it’s difficult to tell. Though the former is simply a part of her journey and might not evoke the sorrow from someone like Suiko, it might be a sore spot for her, particularly with everything she, Kourin and Rekka lost, faced with having to watch the same happen to someone else. But Emi herself seems already be aware of this, she’s a smart girl.

IF 23

Squad goals. Squad goals.

Aichi looks ready to straight up murder and have to wonder who taught you how to pull those faces, boy?

If you’re going to be fighting in the area, please keep the babies safe from harm. Who knows what they might see?

What space-time commotion did you guys cause to alert all the other major characters across the city?.

On the one hand, more Majesty Lord Aichi aaaaaaa. On the other hand, that episode title, screams. (Now are you guys directing that to Aichi, Kai-kun or Shuka? Sus)

This take on the “They Never Met” story:

It’s taken a while for the fact IF is taking the route it is with the story to sink in; a lot of thoughts and feelings are still incredibly jumbled, but here goes An Effort.

As someone who's childhood has a lot of overlap with Aichi’s, it’s incredibly painful to actually see him endure it without the beacon of hope that gave him solace and the toll it’s taken on him to endure it. Having a loving family and a sibling could alleviate the pain, there are fond memories with things with my family that don’t make my childhood an unending nightmare, and it’s apparent that he and Emi were particularly close; though understand that by 16, he’s exhausted by it all, pretty sure I was.

I want to believe that he was able to find at least one other hobby to keep his life from being completely devoid of happiness; reading, writing, art, a love of animal, photography, meeting people on the internet, there has to be something. There are plenty of outlets that could have channelled his imagination to keep it from building with no freedom. The lack of clarification about what he spent his time doing does nothing to help this belief or deter the fears that  he really never tried to find anything, and really hoping that’s able to change before the season is through.

But something about Aichi’s reasoning really doesn’t line up. He claims to be doing this so that he be the only one who has to suffer. And really struggle to fathom how he could think so when Emi and Shizuka, would and are suffering with him. Emi’s own pain has been right in his face and he’s turned away, he can’t be that narrow-minded to think she isn’t in anguish or that forgetting him would magically erase that of her or Shizuka.

My understanding (or interpretation, headcanon, what have you) of Aichi has always been that his unrelenting kindness stems from knowing well the absolute agony of complete loneliness and hopelessness, so he acts to help alleviate or prevent the same feeling upon others. Vanguard shouldn’t have any bearing on that trait staying with him or not; that’s something within Aichi, not created by one facet of his life that appeared one day, particularly when he’s even more familiar with such a rock bottom, even if the exhaustion of it weighs on him; he’s always put on a smile and done his best for someone else’s sake, no matter the cost to himself — and that is what he’s doing, but it’s incredibly difficult to believe he can only manage that demonstration of kindness towards others when he’s connected to or aware of Vanguard.

I can understand Aichi being worn down, I can understand him being a bit hostile and reluctant. But to lack his good heart and throw everything away, to put his family through the nightmare he has been, I can’t understand that, it just isn’t him. He isn’t that dependent on Vanguard to be a good kid.

With how vital the event and relationship are to both Aichi and Kai-kun, to explore the possibility that they would never meet is fascinating, but this feels like a lukewarm attempt at it, at least in regards to what this episode covered and that in itself is saddening, it feels like an incredible premise with wasted potential, just like Legion Mate. It saddens me immensely that this is how they tell that story, more so when it’s the last one we might ever have from this cast.

Late-Bloomer PsyAichi:

The only possibility, and this is very much a last-ditch at this point, draws on ideas from Override (is there an IF plan in the works? laughs with shovel maybe since the day before epi 1 aired), so chances are these might be as swiftly debunked as other ideas.

With the rapid influx of memories breaking through the IF illusion, Aichi’s imagination’s shackles were released, according to Takuto. The result was Psyqualia overloading Aichi, its poisonous nature of the original continuity repeating itself as a result of festering inside of him for years without usage.

By retaining this nature, it amplifies Aichi’s fixation on Kai-kun, maybe through an amalgamation of other PsyAichi remnants in line with the original continuity who became overwhelmed by that obsession blinding him to the pain that other characters have experienced through their connections with Vanguard or the suffering he’s putting his own family through to see IF secured.

His mind struggles to contend with the sudden explosion of power and his sanity withers when viewing possibilities that he was never granted, reinforced by Takuto’s claim that Kai-kun’s life is better as it is, of Aichi’s strength in those other worlds, of longing to reach his alternative selves and feel his existence holds any value. He doesn’t truly have control over himself as a result of this madness, which is why he refers to Kourin by just her name.

How Sanctuary itself formed, there’s just nothing that comes to mind. Unless IF has special properties that just haven’t been explained that allow for more supernatural events to occur — like Sanctuary’s appearance, the battlegrounds that don’t inflict real world damage on their sites — can’t really wrap head around how Aichi was able to create it.

The original distortion’s root:

Something else that still doesn’t make sense is Shuka being led to Blaster Blade as a withering existence. And as Aichi himself never played a part in that, the past couple of weeks had had me suspicious of Nome, and other fans have been pointing fingers his way as of late. His disappearance in episode 1 hasn’t been addressed, and it’s odd for him to so briefly show up only to seemingly play no part.

It’s just a possibility, but he, whether tainted by something Brandt or sibling jealousy, tampered with the Akashic Records to lure Shuka in and cause the accident that prevented Kai-kun and Aichi from meeting, shaping IF Aichi’s life to keep him from deviating from a path that Nome had set for him, using someone else’s brother (and someone known to be a powerful force is let loose) as a weapon.

If Brandt has a part in any of this, perhaps he infected Aichi with it, to allow it/his Psyqualia/imagination to overload him when exposed to the truth beyond IF.

This is all just grasping at straws at this point because really struggle to see Aichi doing this of his own accord and I believe him to be better than this, I want to believe the writers do too.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) {3}

Summary: When emotions run high, even soulmates fight. But, following his brother’s advice, Ethan finds a way to make up for it by including his soulmate in solving a conspiracy theory leading to events that would surely make them much closer than they first were. Plus, it shows what a dynamic duo they make.

Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing

Word count: 7.5k

Fix Me (doctor/soulmate AU) series Masterlist

A/N - heavily inspired by Grey’s anatomy, my own experiences and thoughts, but also by songs: Birdy - Not about angels, Bear’s den - Fortress, Matthew and the atlas - Out of the darkness, Harry Styles - Falling, Kodaline - Wherever you are.

I really hope you guys like it! Feedback is always wanted and appreciated, no matter how small or big it is!

If you want to be tagged for future parts, reply down below.

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Induratize – to make one’s own heart hardened or resistant to someone’s pleas or advances, or the idea of love

Pain. That's her first grasp on reality. It's not something she's unused to; just as she's used to the smell of the disinfectant, Y/N knew of pain in all varieties. However, for the first time ever, she had something different in a hospital setting - a hand to hold.

From time to time, Ethan’s eyes drop to the bed sheets, but mostly they are fixed on her ashen face in a soft stare so that whenever she opens her eyes he’d be the first thing she sees. And once he notices her fingers twitch in his hold, he holds his breath in anticipation of her reaction. He feared she might be unhappy with his presence, but he refused to let go, simply closing his eyes to hide his vigilance.

Opening her eyes in a flash, her neck cracked with the sudden movement for she had to see who the hand belonged to. For a moment she thought it might be one of her parents, the painkillers playing with her mind, making her forget. But she knew it couldn't be them. It was impossible unless there was a new drug that raises the dead.

"Grant?" She croaked, her throat scratchy and her voice hoarse, the consequences of her throat closing leaving her with something to remember for a few days. Who knew she'd manage to get a penicillin allergy after her...fiftieth time taking it? She always felt like a magnet for bad luck and that incident didn't dissuade her.

Ethan wasn't really asleep, not after the night he's had. She needed oxygen more than once and her blood pressure kept dropping even with his efforts to keep it up. It felt like she decided to leave him and no matter how badly he fought for her, she was slipping through his fingers like sand.

"Yes?" He murmured, eyes still closed, lips set in a frown as if hearing her call him Grant didn't make his heart jump. He wasn't a morning person and she just realized it. Three nights they've truly known each other, three nights spent together and only on the third did she stay long enough to learn that and the only reason why she stayed is because she was physically incapable of leaving.

"Do I have the fucking plague?" She cracked a smile, struggling to speak but for a reason she couldn't quite understand, Y/N wanted to speak to him, for him, to make him laugh. The frown on his face hurt her more than it should.

She didn't get a smile, but he did open one eye in uncertainty, allowing him to bask in her meek smile. It wasn't much to someone watching from the sidelines, but it meant the world to him. She wanted to cheer him up. She wanted to see him smile. Even with her know it all, sassy, fuck the world mask, Y/N cared for Ethan and he knew that now. Even if that part of her is small, it's a start. Her heart may be hardened to love and soulmates, but he was softening her up. It’s a slow, difficult process, but Ethan is nothing if not dedicated.

"No. Neither of us got the plague, but the man who did have it died." Ethan told her, deciding hiding it from her isn't wise. She'd ask about him anyway.

Clearing her throat, she pulled her hand out of his, wiping it on the sheets as if his touch is unwanted - as if he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

"Great, so when can I get back to work?" She propped herself up on her elbows, willing to get back on her feet. In her ambition to get back in the operating room, Y/N completely missed the dismissive shake of Ethan's head and the way he jumped to his feet to pull her back.

"You're not going anywhere. In fact, you're on leave for the next week." Ethan stated, a little harshly for his taste but she gets his blood boiling way too easily and he always falls for it. She's a beautiful woman, but it's not her beauty that drives him insane.

"What do you mean? I'm an intern! Interns don't take sick days!" She insisted, sitting right back up, the stress his words caused raised her cortisol and adrenaline levels up in an instant. In all his years, he had never met a woman as stubborn as she is. For Ethan, Y/N was either wildly naive or dangerously intelligent and it is the kindness of her heart and the sharpness of her mind that enriched her soul and drew his close.

"Well, they do when their boss says so and I'm saying so. I've talked to the chief and he agrees. So, you better not show up here before next week and when you do come back, you will be doing scut for a week." Eyebrows knit together, eyes hard, Ethan seemed like an unrelenting force she couldn't fight. Not now when sitting up made her woozy and she knew he was right.

Not that's she'd tell him that.

Ever.

"Why scut?! As if being home isn't punishment enough? What am I being punished for? Huh?" Lowering her voice, Y/N felt her heart skip as the thoughts formed in her head and her mouth was quick to follow. Sometimes she acted on impulse and it wasn't always for the better.

"For leaving the morning after? Because I'm not your hookup, Grant, I am your intern. You don't get to tear into me just because I fucked you once." Swallowing thickly as she stared at his impassive face, she knew she went too far and it wasn't the time nor place and far from the way she wanted to address that night. She was just angry, trying to get some control over the situation she had no way of controlling and it absolutely drove her mad. Perhaps she wanted to get a rise out of him too. So she fucked up. She could tell just by the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw clenched and the warm flames in his eyes were extinguished.

"You have your orders. I have nothing else to say to you." Ethan turned on his heel and before she had a chance to stop him, to apologize, to thank him for saving her life, Ethan was already gone and she was left with regret and guilt.

Too used to pushing people away to protect herself, Y/N now spent her time hating herself for being so quick to speak her mind. Maybe if she was softer, playing dumb like men expect girls to, Ethan would have let her come back to work. But no, she couldn't hold her tongue and she could never play dumb to get anyone's approval. She'd hate herself more if she did.

However, she could always annoy him for progress. What more could he do? He already put her in the corner for doing everything right and then he gave her the worst job for a week to keep punishing her! At least she could get some justice by getting on his nerves, texting him random facts about animals, sending him memes on mean bosses and even voicemails where she talks herself to death about how she was right and he wasn't. All she got was Seen and a daily delivery of chicken soup with bagels and a bottle of freshly squeezed orange juice. The Get Better basket never had a note, but she knew it was his doing. Ethan cared, even if it’s a little and she couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on her lips every morning she received his thoughtful gift.

But Ethan was worse off than her. After finally having her back in his life, he managed to make himself the enemy. And he knew what he was doing was for her own good so she wouldn't make the same mistakes again, so she could use the week off to get back on her feet because going into anaphylactic shock isn't a walk in the park like she pretended to be. If he didn't bench her she would have put her health at risk and he couldn't let her do it.

Eunoia – beautiful thinking, a well mind

"You sent her home?" Grayson whisper shouted, swiftly pulling Ethan into the on-call room.

"She almost died! What am I supposed to do? Put a scalpel in her hand and let her cut someone open when she's barely standing on her own two feet?!" Ethan wasn't quite as quiet as his brother, his emotions on the verge of spilling out like a river once the dam breaks. Ethan always went through the extremes – he either loved too much or didn’t care at all, the same could apply to his temper.

"No, but you could have let her do paperwork? To observe? To watch your department for you?" Grayson listed which made Ethan's eyes widen, realizing he might have been harder on her than he thought. She’s too good at pushing his buttons, he knew it, but this good? For him to think so irrationally he couldn’t understand his own choices or see beyond his emotions? Never did he realize her influence went so deep.

"Just look at it this way: if you got sent home for a week in your intern year, you'd hate the attendee who did it. And she's more than just an intern and you need to be more careful if you want her to see you as more than just her boss. You're acting like a soulmate not a professional." Grayson explained and his clarification had stumped Ethan. He really needs to think before he acts but she makes all rational thought go out the window.

"But I also gave her a week of scut." Ethan sucked in a deep breath, shaking his head. He couldn't take it back just like that because she'd see him as easily manipulated and he couldn't allow that to spread among the other interns. He had to be a little harder than he should if she wanted to know that everything she got was due to her hard work and not because she slept with him or because she is his soulmate.

"You're in big trouble. But I do recommend you to find a way to work with her on something. It doesn't have to be a surgery and it doesn't have to be in this hospital. Find something to connect over."

Thinking how his brother is now the one who has his shit together made Ethan smile but it also made him worry. Isn't Grayson the one who does things impulsively and fucks things up? Seems like that's no longer the case but at least the advice he gave Ethan was enough for him to get an idea.

It took him a couple of days but when inspiration struck, Ethan was so excited for the implementation of his plan for more than one reason – it was for the greater good and he’d get to see her again. Any excuse to do that was more than exhilarating.

He didn't wait after his shift was done, driving to her apartment with the sole intention of convincing her of a theory many would think was insane but he was sure it was a conspiracy she could help him with.

Knocking on her door, he exhaled loudly, shaking his hands vigorously to get the nerves out. It took everything in him to stop himself from running because his heart beating so loudly was driving him insane and quite literally making him panic.

When the door finally cracked open, Y/N peeking through, Ethan felt his heart calm down and his lips pressed together.

After the way she attacked him the last time they saw each other, Ethan didn't expect her to smile at him nor let him in so easily, however, she opened the door widely and gestured for him to come inside.

He was still angry about how she spoke to him, the crudeness of her words making his blood boil but he also missed her in the past five days she had been away and he desperately needed to see her.

"What can I do for you, boss?" She leaned against a wall, looking at him intently with a small smirk upon her lips. It fell odd having him in her private life, as if he was slowly infiltrating every part of her life, making it impossible for her to ignore how badly she wanted to rip his clothes off and ride him until they're both sweaty and tired with loopy, lazy smiles as they hold each other close even after they finish.

Blushing with her thoughts, Y/N cleared her throat as it seemed Ethan wasn't listening to her before and was too busy looking around. He wanted to see her life, the part of her he'd never know if she was just an intern.

He loves the flowery light scent of the room, even more so the colorful yellow walls and green couch. He loved the art hanging on the walls and the way her carpets were all flower themed. Her entire apartment, or at least what he saw so far, had a spring theme and Ethan felt at ease.

"I'm assuming you're here for a reason, not for decorating ideas?" She cocked an eyebrow, speaking louder this time around and it certainly got his attention even if him turning around had made her breath halt in her throat. It enraged her just how attractive he is.

'Why does he have to be so fucking sexy? Like, he’s just kinking his eyebrow and not even in the obvious, over the top way he usually does! He does it so casually, so unaware that it only makes it sexier and damn it, Ethan Grant Dolan, you are ruining men for me!'

But she doesn't say any of her thoughts out loud, only swallows thickly, reminding herself of the reasons why he's not right for her.

"I have a theory and I need your help to confirm it." Swiping his thumb under his bottom lip, Ethan stepped closer. "I had a patient a while ago with breast cancer and her heart was failing due to chemo. After two doses. So, I did some tests and found there were no signs of breast cancer." Ethan waited for her to realize where he's going with this, wanting to see how quick she is on her feet and not even a second later she stood up, no longer casually leaning on the wall.

"So they're giving chemo to earn more money to patients who don't need it? They're purposefully giving people fake cancer diagnosis? How are their stats?" She spoke quickly, passionately as if she was angry, wanting to start a war. And he liked it - the way she thinks, the way her mind works and how it perfectly matched him. What he lacked, she compensated for and what she lacked, he was more than capable to cover for her. They were, despite all odds, a very dynamic duo and Ethan would soon find out just how well they work together.

"They have a ninety percent success rate for breast cancer patients." Ethan noted and he knew she was on board by the way her fists clenched and her eyes hardened. It felt like she was fire and he would have to contain it - contain her, although he’d love to set her loose on the world and see just how extensive the ruin would be.

"Well, I assume you want me to go with you and act like I found a lump so they can misdiagnose me and order me to be on chemo? To see how it works before we burn them to the ground?" She crossed her arms, raising both eyebrows in expectation and even if he wanted to, Ethan would follow her - to the ends of the Earth if necessary.

Forelsket – the euphoria you experience when you’re first falling in love

"Welcome to Smooth Cat." Ethan exclaimed as the passenger door closed and she joined him inside. She didn't quite linger on the car, barely sparing it a glance at first and he knew right away no amount of expensive shiny things will win her over. She wanted something deeper than his pockets.

"You named your car Smooth cat?" She deadpanned, her determination for this case wavering as the amusement showed in her eyes. For once, Ethan managed to make her break the cold surface with just words. Although he didn't think it was as ridiculous as her tone made it out to be.

"Don't hate the kitty when it purrs so nicely and runs so smoothly." Ethan responds, his head high and his lips pursed and so dramatically that Y/N had to crack a smile. For a moment, she mistook him for a humorous person, one that she could imagine herself laughing beside her whole damn life and that thought alone made her heart erratic and her mind chaotic.

"So, you plan on letting me come back to work a bit earlier?" She questions, figuring it's worth a shot especially when they have nothing better to talk about and the awkward silence would drive her insane otherwise. She needed the distraction and he posed as the perfect one. Just as he did that first night.

"No. Not after you went into anaphylaxis and I nearly lost you." Attempting to keep his voice calm and his head leveled, Ethan felt like his heart couldn't follow that instruction. It was more than obvious he couldn't just go back on his word. A leader is consistent and in that hospital he is meant to be a leader, not her soulmate. But his words also showed her his feelings run deeper than he shows.

"Can you honestly tell me that this is how you'd treat the others? I'm not trying to start anything but would anyone else have to do scut? Or is this about our history?" Gnawing on her bottom lip, her tongue dancing along the inside of her teeth as she waited for him to respond. She noticed his eyes turning to the screen of his car instead of the road ahead, tapping something before he turned to her entirely, his hands off the wheel and it made her eyes widen. "And can you please not get us killed?!"

"It's a Tesla. Drives itself." Ethan spoke as if that meant anything to her, as if her anxiety didn't spike at the notion of a car driving her to safety on it's own. She didn't believe that would be a safe way of traveling at all, not that Ethan seemed any better.

"And you're right. I wouldn't treat any other intern like this. In fact, if it were any other intern talking back like you did? They would be suspended." And his eyes didn't waver, looking deep into her own without blinking. Ethan meant what he said with every atom of his being and she knew it too. She knew now that she was right; he did treat her differently, she just didn't know it was for the better.

"I was angry." She quipped, swallowing her pride she saw fit to apologize even if it went against everything she wanted to do. "I'm sorry for being an ass to you...in fact, I wanted to thank you for saving my life that night."

Ethan nods, tongue swiping his bottom lip as he opens his mouth to speak. "Which night? The first one felt like I was quite heroic too." Winking, he couldn't help but notice the way she plays with her fingers, fidgeting nervously, affected by the same memories that haunt him.

"It certainly wasn't heroic but it wasn't...anything less than enjoyable either." She remarked, raising an eyebrow at his statement as if she is unbothered when in fact she is very, very bothered and horny and he could probably tell by her shy smile, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction just yet. Not until she knows where his soulmate is. Whoever it is, she needed to know if that person was in his life, to what extent and if he would be able to ignore that she has a soulmate too, wherever they may be...In a way she wondered if he was the one, but life would never serve her such luck. She's used to not getting favorable things...or men in this particular case.

"Oh, I think otherwise. I even have a certain pair of torn up lace panties and a bra to remember it by." Ethan raised his brow just the same, teasing her relentlessly, genuinely curious how red can her cheeks get. Because as much as he tried to, he couldn't forget the moans he evoked or the way her head would fall back with every dance his fingers played on her. She was and still is the muse for every dream, every fantasy and every lonely night he had to take care of himself.

"I -", Ethan leaned in, ready to hear what she has to say, thinking this might be the right time to tell her he's her forever, but Smooth Cat decided cock-blocking is acceptable and announced their arrival.

Clearing her throat, Y/N broke the eye contact, feeling the intensity of his earthly hues deep inside her heart - eyes that hooked her soul to attention only he could provide. "We should probably get in."

With a nod, Ethan opened the door and she followed his example, walking inside without turning back to look at him, determined to do this right. But for that, she had to swallow her pride once more and play the role.

Just as they enter the main hall, Y/N wrapped her arm around Ethan and his heart almost stopped with the sudden contact. She pulled him closer, glancing up at his poorly hidden shock and smiled meekly but her eyes were anything but - her eyes were hard and they were warning him to play along.

"Hi. Could you help us?" The way she asked felt so...polite? So sweet and innocent, too naively put for Ethan to ever buy the act but the sap on the other side seemed fooled.

"Of course, what can I do for you?" The guy smiles nicely, straightening his back ever so slightly to seem more confident.

"My name is Bailey Nolan and this is Grant Nolan, my husband. I, uh..I was doing a little checkup during shower and I think I felt a lump. In my breast." Shifting her voice to a smaller, fragile tone had surprised Ethan because for a moment he actually believed her too. She is all too convincing. Especially on the husband part and he can’t help but tense up when she calls him that, nor can he stop his heart from pounding uncontrollably with the notion. He imagined her calling him her soulmate and husband so many times since they first met, but to hear it felt divine. It felt better than he thought it would and he just wished she could have said it while gazing in his eyes, his arms around her as he holds her close.

Leaning in closer to the receptionist, Y/N glances left before she whispered softly: "I'm scared it might be cancer."

It didn't take long for the two to be accompanied to an examination room. With instructions to prepare for the exam, Ethan and Y/N found themselves alone for a little while.

"Expecting a free show?" Y/N narrowed her eyes at Ethan, her hands clinging to the gown left for her to change into so the examination would go quicker. She was more than willing to lose her clothes that night they met, but that was under the cloak of night and this? Being in a well-lit room with nothing to draw his attention from her body? It didn't make her as happy to strip down and flash her boobs.

"It's not like I haven't seen them before, ya know? I know exactly how they look." Ethan's cocky voice had caught her off guard just as the little step forward he made toward her. With a raised eyebrow and a vain smile Ethan tilts his head and Y/N wanted nothing more but to wipe that smirk off his face. But she couldn't. Not when his words are facts, not fiction and especially not when her body ached for his weight on top of hers.

"I kissed every inch, even the little mole nested right between -", stopping him before he finished his thought, Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes set aflame as she felt her face burning, her voice low and cold as she spoke. "I get it, but I'm asking you to stop. To not look at me now and not look at me during the ultrasound and please, for the love of God, bring me my bra back." She spoke fast and with uncertainty, mostly because she was more than lost in this new situation where she managed to not just stumble upon a one night stand but to work for him and the power balance is way off and she can’t help but feel very threatened by that.

Did she love how powerful and ambitious Ethan is? Absolutely. Did she enjoy him bossing her around? Not a chance. And she is right, the power balance in their relationship is way off, but not in the way she thinks.

She was completely unaware how whipped Ethan is for her and the way she leans a little closer to him when they talk but she doesn't do the same with anyone else. And he's absolutely crazy about the way she ties her hair in a braid so quickly while she's in the hospital, or how she seems to have fire in her soul, making her a force of nature. And yeah, she is making it hard for him not to move in and kiss her every chance he gets, but he needs to do this right. Her views on soulmates don't seem to match his and he wanted her to love him for who he is and what they've experienced together, not just a bond made by a single look as a gift from destiny. And while she changed behind the curtain, Ethan wanted her to know that too.

"I won't look. I wasn't going to. Just teasing you, darling. But the bra is mine to keep."

Necrophobia – fear of death and associated things

Before she gets a chance to retaliate, the doctor entered the room, introducing himself as Y/N laid on the table, her eyes glancing to Ethan who focused on the doctor instead of her breast as the man began a palpable examination first.

"I don't feel the lump, but I'd like to do an ultrasound too, just to be sure." Raising both eyebrows, Y/N wondered if the man had been wrongly accused by Ethan, making brief eye contact with Ethan who forgot himself and his promise for a moment in his own surprise.

"Oh." But then the doctor stopped, looking closer at the screen with his eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed and Y/N lifts her head.

"Oh? What do you mean by oh?" She demanded, Ethan leaning toward the screen to see better himself but even he wasn't the best in reading breast ultrasounds, that was more Grayson's specialty.

"I'm sorry to say, but I believe your worries were right."

Ringing in her ears, Y/N felt like someone hit her over the head with a rock, her mind stopping as her eyes moved to the screen the man turned for them to see.

"This", the doctor pointed at the screen and Ethan leaned in closer, his heart beating out his chest as his hand blindly searched for Y/N's to hold, wanting to give her comfort as well as seek some reassurance for himself.

"This is a solid mass and while we will need to do more tests when you're ready, my experience taught me this is often a malignancy. It's where most cancers show statistically, but you're young and I feel we caught it in time. We can set up an appointment for confirmation and more imaging, but I'm confident we will win this."

And the doctor spoke, explaining things Y/N could barely hear, feeling like she's under the water, dragged back into hell she barely escaped.

Not even realizing it, she found herself back in Ethan's Smooth Cat, her hand held tightly - no longer gingerly touched, but strongly feeling Ethan's presence. She was so thankful for that. So, so thankful.

With a growing lump inside her throat, Y/N couldn't speak, panic spreading through her as she felt Ethan's other hand touch her cheek, his thumb on her chin, tilting her head toward him.

"I called Grayson and he will meet us in an examination room at the breast unit as soon as we arrive. Remember we can't take anything he says as factual before we check. Okay? You're okay, darling. It's going to be okay." And while he tried to put up a brave front, she felt the tremors in his hands and she heard him swallow tears.

Nodding, she let out a heavy sigh of relief, his words reminding her why they were at the clinic and although she saw the lump on her ultrasound clearly, she prayed she wasn't that unlucky to get cancer. Again.

Rushing to the breast unit, Grayson is already at the door, waving the two inside. Upon entering, Ethan is basically helping Y/N rip her shirt and bra off, her breasts no longer off limits as both of them are out of their minds with worry.

"Wow, Ethan, stay the fuck outside!" Grayson shouted, throwing a sheet over an exposed Y/N, horrified by his brother and his disregard for her comfort and needs.

"We're way past that!" Ethan and Y/N scream in unison as she tosses the sheet off. Breathing uneven, her cheat rising with every shallow breath she takes, Y/N turned to Ethan who was ready to scream but stayed a few feet away. But then she outstretched her arm, her hand open with the palm turned up, her fingers wiggling to invite him closer.

Slightly reluctant, Ethan took her hand in his, fingers intertwining as he rests his elbows on the gurney, his eyes looking into hers only to find fear and unshed tears that disarmed him faster than he believed possible. It's not a secret she's been ruling his heart and mind since they met...since before that, but he never realized how willing he'd be to fall victim to her, to be her captive, to stand in the eye of the storm and admire it even when it threatens to destroy him.

Two hearts beating as one, their eyes speaking volumes about what they can't say just yet, it felt like the world faded and no one but them remained.

But the magic had been broken once Y/N felt the coldness of the gel on her breast, her hand tightened around his and her eyes closed shut. She couldn't handle seeing it again: her dreams all die and her journey to return to start - alone again, rotting in a clinic with nothing to hope for. She found medicine the first time, her graduation and desire to travel the world the second time, but third time? What will she have to look forward to? Eminent death and impending doom of finding a soulmate she never even knew about? Or Ethan?

But he has his soulmate, she reminds herself. He probably has someone waiting for him to come home, a beautiful woman, maybe a couple of kids? Who knows? He wouldn't be her saving grace this time around.

"Good news. The guy's a fraud. This ultrasound is clear. There's nothing malignant here." Grayson's smile is quick to spread, to lighten the somber atmosphere and while he probably should have stopped there, it wouldn't really be Grayson if he did, especially when Ethan and Y/N remained silent, processing the news a bit too long for Grayson's liking.

"Yeah, in fact, this is beautiful breast. It's truly phenomenal, like exquisite -", and that's when Ethan and Y/N finally tuned in, the looks on their faces saying just how far he went. Ethan covered her breasts so fast, pulling his body halfway over hers to protect her from view, his glare burning holes into his brother who raised his arms in mock surrender, defending his honor and quite frankly his life.

"I was just going to say it's like a perfect anatomy, nothing sexual."

"Bro, just go. Leave while you're still ahead." Ethan practically growled through gritted teeth and Grayson didn't plan on sticking around for those teeth to grab a hold of his throat. Because Ethan reminded him of a lion, king of the jungle and he looked ready to kill to protect his lioness.

Selenophile – a person who loves the moon

Scratching the back of his head, Ethan stepped away, releasing her hand reluctantly with a sigh. He wanted to keep this moment going, to have her so close and while he hated himself for it, he liked being needed that day. Every look she gave him, every touch no matter how small, it made him feel wanted like never before and for the first time in forever he just wanted to stay in the moment with her.

"Are you okay?" Ethan's voice is rough, his throat scratchy and his heart slowly calming down. Clearing his throat, he averted his gaze, allowing her to sit up and get dressed without having her yell at him for peeping.

"I...I guess. What are we going to do about this guy?" She changed the topic deliberately, scared she might say too much because this fright had brought her back to all those times she was stuck in the hospital, alone and terrified of what might become of her. It reminded her of the friends she saw die and of the days she thought she would too.

"Grayson? He didn't mean anything by that, he just word vomits whenever he's nervous and it got fairly awkward really fast." Ethan chuckled, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth, dragging them across the soft flesh before releasing it a shade darker.

"No. Not Grayson. I mean that quack of a doctor who told me I have cancer!" She raised her voice inadvertently, hoping Ethan wouldn't notice the raw emotion behind it nor the loss of common sense that washed over her.

"I have a solid amount of paperwork proving his scams. I just wanted to know for sure today. Grayson is already dealing with it. As you can tell, my brother is a boobie lover and he won't let this man get away for all the boob owners that were tricked into this." Ethan watched her back move with her shallow breaths, her inability to turn around and look him in the eye raising his anxiety levels with each passing second.

"You don't fuck with people like that. You just don't." She mutters quietly, her voice just above a whisper and Ethan can feel his heart break and he doesn't even know why.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Y/N stood up, meek and shaken and so clearly in need of distance because if she stays even just for a minute, Ethan will know one of the worst things she had to endure and she couldn't do that. She couldn't let him in. Not when he can't stay. So she did what she does best. She bolted out the room, ignoring Ethan's pleas for her to stop and talk to him.

She went to where she was the first time she met Ethan. She went to where her life was supposed to start and it did...In a way, that day was the best day of her life - she was free of the curse her body was under and she met Ethan.

So yes, she ended up in the Oncology ward, gowning up before entering the room where comatose patients struggled to survive. As weird as it is, it had always been her favorite and least favorite place to hide from the world, a place she could find peace and serenity but also reconcile her life might end in one of those rooms as well, so she always sat there and just reminded herself to breathe as long as she could, as fiercely as she could.

She sat by one of the patients, looking sadly down at their broken, beaten bodies and how it betrayed them in the worst possible way. As usual, most patients are older or have their grey hair as proof they found their soulmate, but then again, she saw two kids there too.

She was once a kid on these ventilators too. Her friends were on them too. Not all of them made it out.

Comas aren't romantic at all like in the movies, she knew it better than anyone. The person in that bed isn't flawlessly combed nor do they have make up to cover their flaws. They aren't comfortable nor is their spirit waiting by the bed as their loved ones come and go, confessing how much they love the unlucky bastard for years to come. No...coma is what takes the basic human pride and decency. It strips you of all that makes you human. Some survive and recover, going home with amnesia for the time they spent in their state, some don't survive it at all...but there is a third option for those who survive, but they aren't exactly alive. For them, coma means tubes being stuck into their nose for feeding, into their mouth for breathing, into their urethra for peeing and a diaper for shitting. It means eyes covered with gauze to help keep their eyes moist, their throat cut open to move the breathing tube if that state continues; wires, needles, medical students practicing on them because they aren't supposed to feel the pain. It means pressure ulcers that turn into huge gaping wounds because the nurses are understaffed, overworked and underpaid and can't possibly move every patient in time to prevent complications. And the worst part is that the longer they are comatose, less people come to see them. They're alone, abandoned in a room without any chance of recovery, robbed of their right of moving on, truly being liberated. They would welcome death doctors are forced to keep away.

And she had witnessed it happen far too often. She had seen many comatose patients in her time during her stays in the hospital because of her cancer. Some of them she'd visit at night because she felt bad for them, others were her cancer buddies who were losing the battle. Either way, there wasn't anything to romanticize. Coma isn't a pretty state, it's her worst nightmare.

"You're not okay."

Startled, Y/N looks back at the door, aware who it is before she sees the person the voice belongs to. And there he is, the man she wants to know more than anything but can't allow herself to care. If they were meant to be, if he is her soulmate, he'd tell her by now. Right?

"You're always running after me." She smiles weakly, the sadness in her eyes tearing into Ethan who, even now, saw her as the most beautiful creature to walk the Earth. In his hundred plus years, Ethan never saw a human as flawlessly beautiful as her.

"Someone's got to." With a slight shrug, Ethan sat on a chair beside her, his eyes fixed on her with a softness behind his hazel hues she rarely saw in anyone. He cares. She could see that now and no amount of fear that evoked would make her walk away. She wanted to stay. She wanted him to look at her as softly as he does now for the rest of her life.

Y/N no longer cared about whoever her soulmate is because she couldn't imagine caring about someone as much as she does for Grant, not ever.

"When I was nine I was diagnosed with papillary thyroid cancer with metastasis in surrounding lymph nodes. After surgery and chemotherapy they said I'd be fine. They said it would be like nothing ever happened. But it wasn't fine." Swallowing a growing lump in her throat, Y/N glanced at Ethan who looked distressed by her story, like his heart had fallen through the cracks and shattered on the ground. But it was too late and she could tell he was staring at her throat for signs of surgical scarring and she felt self-conscious just like she did when they first cut her open.

"I learned to hide the scar with either scarfs or make up. And I thought I could move on and be happy but I was fifteen when I was rushed into the emergency room because I collapsed in school. Turns out the metastasis were in my lungs and while they were unsure if it was truly related to the first cancer diagnosis or if it was a new sort, one thing was sure...I needed more chemotherapy...more pain, more hospitals, more lonely days and nights and I had no one. My parents were always too involved with each other and their jobs than me. I was alone. And scared. Studying medicine saved me." She sighed, looking over the patients.

"The chemotherapy ruined my bone marrow, a little something I found out in my last year of med school after which I had to wait almost a year while I got a transplant and my immune system normalized. It was the only good thing my dad ever did for me." She shrugged, daring to look back at Ethan who looked so frustrated with what she went through, horrified by the thought of her being alone all those years when the worst has happened to her. And he hated he wasn't there for her.

"The night we met? At the bar? I was here for a final checkup because my doctor moved. I got the all clear and I was depressed I had no one to celebrate the official news of my remission and my life getting back on track." She admitted sheepishly.

"But as great as it was, we can't go back to that. You are my boss and I'm your intern and while it's going to be hard, we have to let it go. So, can I please just get back to work?"

Shaking his head, Ethan chuckled in disbelief.

"You're with Grayson next week and every free moment you have you will deal with my paperwork. That's all I can give you. But you can't seriously expect me to forget that night. Or any of it since." His demeanor changed and the softest he had about him had disappeared.

"I appreciate you telling me all this and I wish I could have been there for you, I do! But I am here now and I don't plan on leaving anytime soon. I care for you. But you drive me so mad sometimes." Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ethan tried to calm down and actually be supportive because it was hard for her to open up to him like she did and he wanted to be understanding but every move forward ends up being two steps back with her and Ethan was stressed and tired and he needed her to realize she was stuck with him.

“You’re like a book! A big, strange book I barely understand.” He was slowly losing patience, she could tell. And a part of her hoped he’d let her go and give up. A part of her prayed for it to happen. But another part, one hidden deep inside, that part wanted Ethan more than the oxygen she needed to breathe. He was her oxygen, the air her soul needed. And he wasn't letting up, despite it all.

“Learn me slowly then. Please? Just be patient with my pages.”

And in that moment, they shared a silent agreement. In her darkness, he saw her light shine through. He is a selenophile and she his moon.

In that moment, Ethan saw fit to lean closer, his eyes glancing at her supple lips before focusing on her eyes again. He wanted to make sure she wanted it to happen as much as he did, even if it was completely inappropriate from the place it was happening down to their work relationship. It was all kinds of wrong, yet it felt right. It felt so, so right.

She didn't move away, she didn't make a sound. All she did was close her eyes and part her lips and in that fraction of a second, she allowed herself to get lost in the beauty of a lover's touch for when Ethan's lips brushed hers, nothing mattered anymore.

Just before letting go and surrendering himself to this gentle surprise, Ethan looked at his soulmate with a new hope in mind and a promise he would never let her demons drown her.

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

Tags: @beinscorpio​ @peacedolantwins​ @heyits-claire​ @dolandolll​ @godlydolans​ @dolanstwintuesday​ @ethanhes​ @iwastornsincethestart @graydolan12​ @fxkthatdairy​ @zeusgrayson​ @libradolan​ @justordinaryjen​ @pineappledolan​ @graysavant​ @voguekristens @imayoutubere @livexdolan​  @shadowsndaisies​ @maybgrayson​

[mst3kproject]

Goliath and the Dragon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[darkredehmption]

Convergence

***

Zsadist:

[My nightmares were getting the best of me. It was getting so bad that at one point I was barely getting any sleep. Every time I closed my eyes my demons came out to play. Taunting me and making me feel like I was nothing. I tried my best to not think about it too much, but as of lately I was just in my head. Which didn’t help on nights like tonight when I was on rotation. I needed to stay focused. Then again, getting smacked around a bit might do me good. My attention is drawn to my twin when I feel a nudge to my arm. “You okay?” His golden eyes found my own.]

Yeah. Just was thinking about something. [Or someone. I couldn’t get Malys out of my head. Phury even gave him a number to contact in case his Mahmen wanted to meet the Chosens, and no text or call. Nothing. My brows draw in and I suddenly get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if something happened to him and he didn’t make it home safe?

Shaking the thoughts from my head as I watch Butch move over to us with Vishous close behind. Then we all move in unison down the street. Cop gave an uneasy look which told me that the enemy was nearby. “Z…Let Cop lead the way.” Eyeing Vishous as I try to stay focused. I felt like a caged animal. Desperate for a fight or more so to get hit a few times. I was disgusting but I needed this. The hits would make me feel...alive.

Butch moves forward, directing us towards a large group of lessers that luckily had no civilians. It was so much easier to handle a situation without any hostages. I couldn’t help it though. Once I saw them I charged. I heard a brother holler at me but I didn’t look back. The lessers all snapped their heads up at once and came straight for me. The Brothers did manage to catch up but that didn’t stop the one that lunged for me. I felt a hit to my side then a blow to the face that sent shivers down my spine. Yes. This is exactly what I needed. Ignoring the weapons I could use on the fucker, instead I started throwing punches. Remembering when I got to spar with Malys. The thought sidetracks me and I earn a hit to my jaw that causes me to stumble back.

Growling loudly as I ram my body forward, practically knocking the fucker down to the ground. Grabbing ahold of him as I pound my fist into the enemy’s face over and over again. Black blood splattering out, coating his face so it was barely recognizable. I was crazed and nothing could stop me in this moment. There was a ringing in my ears that caused me to block out everything. Completely oblivious to anything that was going on around me. Giving one last punch that cracks the lesser’s head back. In one swift movement I unsheathe my dagger and stabs it right into his sweet spot to send the fucker back to the omega. When the flash of light forms I lift my head.

And that’s when I see another lesser pointing a gun straight at my head. How did I not sense him there? My golden eyes go wide and suddenly I heard everything around me. The sounds of my Brothers grunting and punches being thrown. Even my name being screamed from across the alley. Then there was a sound that was unfamiliar to me. A flapping sound that came with a gust of wind. Was this it? Did I finally come to my end? The last thing I heard was the sound of the trigger being pulled and the gun firing.]

Mal:

The wind howled around me as I looked down over the city, gleaming like a jewel even at this midnight hour. My feathers dragged in the breeze, eager to ride it, but even as my mind argued it was time to leave, something else kept me locked in place.

My backpack hung between my wings, an easy weight as I drew in a deep breath of city air and let it out slowly. Strapped to my thigh was a silver blade, and my belt had a nine mil tucked in the back. The shotgun with rock salt shells I’d been rocking to deal with a poltergeist (thanks, Sam; so /not/ a cursed object…) I’d stowed away in the pack.

Without meaning too, I let my mind reach out. There were times I could control it; sense a house and its occupants, sense a demon on the move, but this time it happened without my giving thought to it. One minute I was on the rooftop, the night sky beckoning, the next I was immersed in the city, in the scream of cab horns and the laughter of drunken revellers moving to their next venue. As I left the brighter streets behind, the seedy underbelly greeted me, and like an arrow with a target my mind zeroed in.

Demons.

My breath caught as I took a step toward the ledge, ready to leap, when the sense refined itself further. Not demons…

Lessers.

The black blooded creatures were moving fast, and with a start I felt not just their darkness, but the light of other things. Other people.

The Brothers.

I leapt off the building, my wings beating hard as I let my mind lead me closer. Surely, they had it under control. Centuries of fighting, they were warriors of another calibre. But then…

“Zsadist…”

I breathed his name into the night as his spark, his light, registered so much brighter. He was there, but he was… distracted. The Lesser he fought was the weaker of the problems. With an unrelenting rage and ferocity he moved to dispatch his foe, even as I drew level from above, the visions of light and dark in my mind merging with what my eyes could see. The auras of the Brothers shone, even as the dark clouds that opposed them tried to take over, smother their light.

I saw the other Lesser so clearly now, saw him raise the weapon as Zsadist came back to reality. Those golden eyes widened.

But I was already falling.

I couldn’t hit the Lesser; not this time. The gun would still discharge. The Brother would still be shot. Those golden eyes forever dimmed. My gut clenched in fear at the idea.

I landed by the Brother and threw my wings wide as I snarled. The gun fired. I felt a brief burst of pain. Then my own gun was up. I fired, and the bullet found its mark. The Lesser dropped as I panted, seething. He’d thought to kill this Brother? Fuck. No. Not on my damn watch.

Turning, I met those golden eyes. Still bright. Still alive and vital. My relief was exquisite, though his shock was moderately entertaining. I managed a rueful grin before inclining my head. Then I was pivoting again, bringing my weapon up to take aim as the remaining Lessers started to scatter.

Zsadist:

[I was ready to accept my fate. Knowing that this would be it for me. Then in one moment it all changed. Someone swooped down, standing in front of me as a shield from the lesser. And that’s when I noticed the wings. The huge black wings that spread out in front of me, blocking me from watching the scene unfold. What. The. Fuck. I couldn’t help but just stand there in total shock. My feet were cemented to the floor, only to loosen when I watched the bullet hit one of the mystery angel’s wings. NO! Why the fuck would this male take a bullet for me? The hell...My thoughts are cut off when his head turns to reveal Malys.

My jaw goes slack, eyes burning bright as they lock onto the male I thought I’d never see again. Fuck. So I wasn’t crazy that night. He did have wings. Which explained so much. No wonder the halfbreed didn’t heal as fast as he should when under our care. Why the fuck didn’t Lassiter tell anyone about this? I could kill the fucking angel. Fucker probably thought it was funny.

With a snort I’m brought back to reality when Malys starts to take on any lesser that comes his way. And I move right in beside him to do much of the same. We moved in perfect unison, almost like a dance. It was like we’ve been fighting alongside each other for years. I was unaware of anything else around me. Hell I didn’t even know what the fuck my Brothers were doing. All I saw was Malys moving with me as we took down the lessers in front of us.

My golden eyes narrow as I watch one come up behind him. The enemy reached for his wings and before he could grab at the feathers I grabbed him. Tugging him back only to sink my fangs into his throat. I couldn’t help the animalistic side of me that came out. No one was going to hurt this male in front of me anymore. Not on my watch.

My head thrashing back and forth as I tear open the lesser’s throat. Black blood splattering on my face, but I didn’t care. Pulling back, I spit out a piece of flesh before I reach around to stab him in the chest. Watching the flash of light before I lift my head to study Malys. My brows draw in as I see the blood dripping from his wing. Scrubbing my hand over my mouth to wipe off the enemy’s blood as I move forward. All I saw was him.]

Mal:

The world faded into the background. I knew there were other Brothers there, fighting, but they were a secondary concern as Zsadist and I moved like a unit, dispatching anything that came close. I sensed the Lesser approaching at my back, reaching for my injured wing, but before I could even contemplate a countermove the male was there, tearing it to pieces as I put a round in the brain base of the Lesser I was holding.

Looking up from the ruins of the skull at my feet, I locked eyes on the two Lessers still lingering at the mouth of the alley. My eyes lit, silvery white power filling me from within. I flared my one good wing wider, the other dragging, as I bared my fangs and snarled. Behind me, a Lesser popped into non-existence with a burst of light. They both turned and ran.

And as much as I wanted to go after them, I instead took a breath and shuddered, letting the power go. I could feel eyes on me, and I didn’t need to turn my head to know it was the Brothers this time. Instead I looked to Zsadist. As if on cue, the tendon injured by the bullet in my wing snapped, the limb dropping to hang down my back and drag along the pavement. I gave it a dismissive glance, folding the working side tighter to my back.

The male was spattered in black ichor, his chest heaving up and down after the exertion. But, thankfully, uninjured. I actually let out a breath at how relieved I was.

“You’ve got a little something here…” I said dryly, tapping the corner of my lip, the male’s face all but covered by the Lesser blood. “And have you lost your fucking mind?”

One of the other Brothers snorted. It might’ve been Phury. But considering the rueful expressions they were all sporting, like they agreed with my assessment, I couldn’t be sure. The golden eyed Brother before me had clearly been rocking that ‘loose canon’ vibe.

Zsadist:

[If my Brothers weren’t around right now I would have hugged the male that just risked his life for me. Speaking of my Brothers, one glance at them and I saw total shock and confusion on their faces. Vishous muttered something as he lit a blunt before going to check on cop, who was dealing with the aftermath of inhaling lessers. Phury steps forward almost mesmerized by the wings as my gaze meets Malys’s once again. When he makes a crack at me I scrub my hand over my mouth to wipe off more of the black blood.]

Shouldn’t I be saying the same to you? Jumping in front of a gun like that….again. [Shaking my head.] And here I thought I had a death wish. Turns out it was you. The fuck you doing? [My brows draw in.] You…[What? Scared me? Sure did. Made me feel something? Yup. I couldn’t handle this. Trying to take in deep breaths, I turn to pace a little. Ignoring anyone around me as I just stay in my head for a moment. Finally my head snaps to my twin.]

So...he’s coming back with us so we can patch that up. [My hand gestures towards the fucking wing. Scribe. How did I not know? Phury raises both brows then just nods slowly as his eyes stay trained on me. I couldn’t look at Malys. If I did I was afraid of what I would do. So instead I move over to Vishous and offered to bring the SUV around. Butch wasn’t looking so hot.

When I turned with the keys in hand, I catch a glimpse at the angel. My jaw clenches and I felt a tightening in my chest. What the fuck was wrong with me? Practically running out of the alley to retrieve the car that was parked a few blocks down. I couldn’t believe what he just did...Where the hell did he come from and how did he know where we were? My head was full of questions as I bring the car over to the Brothers. Getting out to watch V help cop into the passenger’s seat. “So...we are bringing him back...again?” I eyed the diamond eyed Brother and just nodded once. He tosses his blunt onto the asphalt, stomping it out with a boot before getting into the driver’s seat. That was my cue to finally talk to the male again.

Turning around to face him, I eye Phury as he clamps a hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. When I step forward towards the angel the Brother moves to talk to Vishous. Basically saying that he was going to dematz back to let Wrath know what was doing. Great. Lifting my gaze to Malys, my lips twitch before I speak.]

You are gonna come back with us and...um...we are going to patch you up. [My brows draw in as I eye the wing. Wondering how long it would take for it to heal.]

Mal:

Phury looked at me with a whole new light; I had to wonder how many /more/ questions he had for my mahmen now that he’d seen me rocking a set of wings. As Zsadist scrubbed at his face, my attention was irrevocably pulled back to him. At the question, I shrugged, holstering my piece, waiting for him to finish. Only he didn’t. His sentence trailed off and I frowned as he turned and stalked away, shoulders tense.

I looked to Phury, but he just shook his head fractionally and moved toward his twin. Biting back my frustration, I looked away, instead watching as the diamond eyed Brother helped my fellow non-dematting halfbreed, Butch. The male looked like he’d been sucking down bottles of ipecac and was ready to upchuck all over the place.

Zsadist’s question forced me to glance over, my mind churning and my gut backflipping as I tried to process ‘why’ I was so bothered by the male avoiding me. I mean, sure, I’d saved his ass, but I’d done that for plenty of people through my life and never once wanted to grab them and shake them afterward. Maybe it was the disappointment. The Brother clearly had made his decision when he hadn’t bothered to see me off. N’ now here I was, rocking his situation again and forcing him to acknowledge me.

Frowning at the pavement, I glanced back at the wing. With a bit of sunlight I was looking at a day, maybe two, of recovery. There was zero chance of me using it to take off right now, much as I might like to. As the vampires hustled around me to get their shit in gear, loading Butch into the SUV, I looked up as Zsadist approached, locking down my facial expressions to a calm ‘whatever’.

Inclining my head politely at his words, I moved toward the car, my wing trailing in the dirt and debris of the alley.

“I’ll need to be in the trunk,” I said coolly, the irony not lost on me. “Again. My wings won’t fit in the seats or sitting.”

I popped the back as I reached the SUV, not acknowledging Zsadist as I paused and concentrated. So far, I’d been ignoring the aching stab of pain from the wound, too distracted by the golden eyed male, but the muscles around it clenched and spasmed. Now, as I tried to fold the wing up, to fit it into the car, I couldn’t help a small grunt and gasp of pain. The agony shot from my wing to my spine. I curled my fingers around the tailgate then forced myself to climb in, turning sideways. My good wing hit the roof and fanned out at the back, while the bad one lay limply down my back and onto the carpet, staining it red.

Crouched in the back like an animal, bleeding all over their shit not for the first time but the second, I felt a faint flush of embarrassment. How was this my life? What the fuck was I doing?

“Let’s do this,” I muttered, avoiding looking at Zsadist in favour of turning my gaze toward Vishous. The Brother seemed to regard everything with an almost clinical stare, and I could do with a little distance right now as opposed to the emotions ripping me up whenever I looked at Zsadist.

Zsadist:

[There was a lot of emotions coming off of the angel. He seemed angry with me and why shouldn’t he be? Though I was still so puzzled why he came to my rescue. Why did he put himself through that...for me? Lifting my head to watch his sad walk to the back of the SUV. I took a step forward as if I was going to join him, only to pause when the trunk closes. I wanted to scream. Gritting my teeth as I hear the demons in the back of my head, taunting me. Scrubbing both hands over my skull trim head before I move into the Escalade.

Once inside I eye Vishous in the rear view mirror. I couldn’t help but notice the Brother giving me a look. Then he cracks a small grin. Blinking as I rip my gaze away from him, feeling the car pull out and drive off. The ride was silent until I heard a few groans from Butch. V immediately eyes him, reaching a hand out to grip his arm. He murmurs low to the male. Telling him basically that he will heal him once they are back at the pit. Even though my eyes were trained forward, I could feel the angel’s stare burning into the back of my skull. His fresh blood was all I could smell. And I wanted to so badly to comfort him in the same way my Brothers just did for each other, but I couldn’t.

What was doing with me? Why was I so fucked up? “Z…” My head snaps back quickly to look at Malys behind me. Though he wasn’t the one who called my name. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him before I turn my attention towards my twin who was sitting beside me. Those golden eyes looked at me sadly. My brows draw in and I murmur barely.]

I’m fine. [Hoping that Malys didn’t hear me. Phury nods slowly then gazes out of the window. I let in a deep breath, listening to the sound of the angel’s heart beating in the quiet car ride. It fluttered strong which was a good sign. Not that I thought he was going to bleed out in the back of the van. When we arrive, I watch Vishous practically run out to get Butch out and help him into the pit. Leaving just my twin, Malys, and I in the car. Phury lingers but I break the silence.]

Brother I got this. I’ll take him to the PT Suite. Though he probably just needs some sun which can happen in a few hours. [My eyes trained on the seat in front of me as I spoke.] You can let Wrath know we have a visitor. I’m sure he will be thrilled. [My twin was a little hesitant to leave, but eventually he does leaving just myself and the angel in the car. The silence drags on before I move to get out. When I pop open the trunk, my eyes meet his. I get that tightness in my chest again as I eye his injured wing. Slowly I stretch out my arm. Holding my hand out for him to take, if he would. I couldn’t help but eye the slave band that peeked out of my sleeve.]

Mal:

In much closer proximity, I changed my mind about Butch; the Brother didn’t look like he was going to be sick, he looked like he had the mutant baby virus of ebola and swine flu. If I didn’t know better about vampires getting sick, I’d have lifted my shirt over my nose. Then probably have Vishous break my jaw. Ahh well. Couldn’t be worse than the pain in my wing. Or my chest…

The Brothers didn’t bother with the blindfold schtick this time. Whether it was my saving Zsadist’s life, saving Chosen lives, or the wings, I couldn’t tell you, but they drove on up the highway back to the mansion and I half heartedly paid attention, too distracted by looking at Zsadist, not looking at Zsadist, and trying not to move my wing with the motion of the car. Whatever talk that happened was minimal, Vishous checking on Butch, and Phury having a hushed conversation with his brother up front.

By the time we arrived, I’d started to count the threads in the car seats, but watching Vishous collect Butch from the Escalade and half carry him off down the hall distracted me from my own desire to escape the vehicle. When Zsadist spoke again, I almost jumped.

Eyes flicking between the pair, I take in the back and forth without bothering to get out. One, because I was weary of moving my wing and letting it drag unnecessarily, and two… I was curious. About their dynamic. About this place. About the male that had to take a breath and hold a minute before finally coming to the back of the car and popping the door. I looked at the hand he held out to me, surprised that he was offering it after seeming to avoid me since I dropped from above.

When I reached out to take it, a spark shot up my arm. But I didn’t let go.

Using his grip to slip out of the SUV, I grimaced as my wing dropped, the muscles shrieking at being stretched and pulled with a bullet somewhere inside.

“Could you…” I took a breath and did a metaphorical grab of my sack and hardened up. “…carry my wing, please? I can’t lift it. The muscles are torn,” I admitted gruffly, trying to look anywhere but those golden eyes. “And I kind of can’t reach it myself…”

Though I definitely felt a little bad about getting blood all over the male, again, it kind of worked with the still black smeared face he was rocking, so… win?

“I’m curious though how your med staff are going to handle me. This. When was the last time they pretended to be vets?” I muttered, biting my lip as the male’s hands, so used to slaughtering Lessers, lifted and cradled my damaged wing with such care.

Zsadist:

[When his hand reached for my own, I couldn’t help but feel that spark again. But this time he doesn’t pull away. Why doesn’t he? He found me disgusting, yes? So he should be pulling away from me. My eyes lock onto his own, brows drawing in when the angel asked me to hold his wing up. The one he used to protect me from a bullet. My hands move slowly, grabbing the injured wing with the softest touch I could manage. I couldn’t help but let my fingers move through the feathers. It felt so nice. Closing my eyes for a brief moment before I focus on walking down the tunnels.]

Will sunlight heal you? [Eying the wound that was dripping with blood.] If not I..I can try to patch it up. I mean...how serious is it? [Why was I such a mess always in front of this male? I couldn’t help this awkwardness around him. Ever since the first time we met, I felt something that I never have before and I wasn’t quite sure just what that was.

Once at the door of the PT suite, I will it open before moving inside the room with him. The staff was nowhere to be found, but I could get them in an instant if needed. Here we were again. Only this time he was awake and had a giant pair of wings. My lips twitch at the thought before I moved to grab some supplies from the cabinet. Needing to keep busy so I wouldn’t stare at him.]

Tell me. Why did you come to the alley? And how? How did you know I was there with my Brothers? It’s like you knew I was about to get…[Trailing off as I close the drawer in front of me. Clutching the gauze in my hand as I try to focus on the task at hand. But I couldn’t. I was an absolute mess and I didn’t want him to see it. Lifting my head slowly, taking in a deep breath.]

Why didn’t you tell me what you were? [Closing my eyes, but all I could see was those wings. Shit. And there was that tightness in my chest. Turning slowly to face the angel. Searching his eyes before I moved towards him. My hand reaches out, gently landing on his injured wing.]

Mal:

Reaching the med wing, I take a seat on the gurney, letting the male potter around to gather whatever he wanted. Hopefully a shot of morphine was part of the supplies. I wasn’t bothered by the lack of staff; if the male wanted to play nurse that was kind of alright with me. Besides, it was keeping his hands busy and his eyes occupied. All the better to watch him as I ignored the pulsing throb of my wing.

“It’ll heal in sunlight once the bullet is out,” I admit. “Though I probably shouldn’t fly on it for a day or so. The tendons need time to strengthen.” Clever of the male to already deduce that sunlight was the key to my restoration. I mean, their resident angel must’ve offered some insight, and my sneaking around the last time I was here probably helped some.

At his questions I can’t help but sigh. In for a penny, in for a pound I suppose. I’d made the call to reveal my nature when I’d used my wing as a flesh and blood shield for this male. Could I really stop now?

“I can sense demons,” I admit gruffly, looking down. “I ended up staying in town for a job and I was getting ready to leave tonight. When I sensed the Lessers… I also sensed you. I was flying to you before I even knew what I was doing…” I trailed off, shrugging, the action causing another wince as my wing objected and the other rustled against the gurney. “Can you honestly blame me for not wanting to say anything? There’s nothing else like me,” I point out dryly. “My mahmen feared her whole life that I’d be shunned. Rejected. Hunted.”

Sighing, I shook my head and looked down. “But I couldn’t… not… save you. I don’t know what it was but the thought of those golden eyes never taking in the world again…” Taking in me… “...well, I did what I did.”

Zsadist:

[My golden eyes grow wide as I hear the male’s words. I couldn’t hold back the growl that formed in my chest.] You will not be rejected or hunted. Not on my watch. [Gritting my teeth as I set the supplies down. How could this male think he was some sort of freak? I mean...has he met me? Snorting at the thought as I reach for his wing again, inspecting the wound before I meet his gaze.]

Do you want me to numb it with a shot? Or you okay for me to just pull it out? [My fingers twitched against his feathers. I couldn’t help but think about all that he said. Maybe I got him wrong before. Then why did he pull back in the gym? Dropping my head, keeping my eyes trained on his wound.]

You drive me crazy. You know that? [I admit as my hands moved to grab an alcohol pad, carefully running it over the bullet hole.] One moment I think you find me repulsive and the next you are saying shit like that. [Tossing the bloody gauze away as I try not to lose it in front of him. I couldn’t give him more reasons to see how much a freak I was. Gripping the sides of the gurney.]

Thank you for doing what you did. I owe you a lot. [My life apparently. Lifting my gaze to the male. There was that spark again, except it was all over. Along with the tightness in my chest.] Seems like fate brought you back again...if you were smart you would stay and consider the program. Just saying. [Why did I want him to stay so much? I mean...he was a great fighter. Clearly doing way better than me.]

Mal:

“If you have a shot, I’ll take it,” I shrug. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had wings, but they can be very sensitive in some places,” I add dryly, shaking my head and looking at the floor.

At his words though, the confession that I drive him crazy, my head snapped up. My eyes were wide in shock, and I couldn’t seem to find the muscles to get my facial features under control as I stared at him. For the first time since being shot, I was oblivious to the bullet wound, even after he’d cleaned the area with alcohol.

“Repulsed?” I echoed, my tone containing every bit of disbelief I possessed. “Why would I… because of the gym?” I asked, barely constructing sentences that would pass a fifth grade English lesson. But I was lost for words. Of all the things I’d felt around this male, being repulsed or disgusted never even came close to the list.

Waving off the training program crap (cause, yeah, one thing at a time) I shifted forward on the gurney. “I pulled away from you at the gym because you shatter my defences,” I said quietly, trying to get that golden gaze to lock with my own, so he could see the truth in my eyes. “I’ve worked my whole life to hide what I am, who I am, and two minutes of rolling around on a mat with you and my divinity was nearly /there/,” I declared, clenching my jaw as I took a deep breath. “My wings… my eyes… I nearly lost control with you. /That/ is what you do to me, Zsadist,” I managed, leaning back slightly. “You take a lifetime’s worth of my hard earned self control and destroy it just by /looking/ at me.”

I wanted to scowl. I wanted to be mad. And a part of me was, but only with myself. That my defences had been so easily tested. That I held interest in a male that kept the world, it seemed, at arm’s length. Maybe that was all it was; like his King, he wanted me to be a trainee. A soldier. That was all.

…right?

“Was that why you didn’t see me when I left?” I whispered, watching him, trying to see the reaction in his eyes, the shift of those powerful shoulders. “You thought I was repulsed by you, so you stayed away? Is that the kind of male you think I am?” I pushed, latching onto his wrist and using the grip to pull him close. I turned his wrist in my hand, until his slave band had to be showing, but I never even looked down at it. “Do you think I’m bothered by those? That I would think less of you? Truly?”

And I realized it hurt. My chest ached that this male, this warrior, would think I’d spurned him because of his bands and his scar; that my withdrawal had been, to him, a condemnation and rejection.

Zsadist:

[I tried to look anywhere but his eyes. Though I failed at that. As I stared into them, I was lost for words. What could I say to him? Yeah. I thought he found me disgusting. And I don't mean that in a bad way. Just all my life I got accustomed to how people acted around me. I understood why they did. I had so much self hate for myself that I just accepted it all. Knowing that it was true. But he wasn’t looking at me like that. He just was someone like me where feelings and opening up didn’t come naturally.

Stiffening slightly as his hand clasped my arm. Tugging me forward, exposing the slave band on my wrist. Though he didn’t look at it. Just spoke on how it didn’t affect him and what he saw in me. None of it did.]

I…[My throat closes up and I struggle to form words. Shit. Why was I so bad at this?] Yes, I didn’t come see you cause I didn’t think you’d want to see me again. But that wasn’t the case...was it? [My wrist felt like it was on fire from his touch, though I didn’t want him to let go. Leaning in slightly as my voice dropped to a whisper.] If you only knew what you do to me. If only…

[Closing my eyes tightly. I couldn’t look at him anymore. It made my chest ache. The shot. Yes. He said he wanted one. Pulling away as I take in a breath, turning to retrieve the needle. I found it easily, but pretend to search around for a bit so I could get my shit together. This was all new to me. Is this how my Brother’s felt with their mates…? No...can’t be. I kept my eyes on the task at hand when I returned to the male. Carefully grabbing at his wing before I give him the shot. I needed to get this bullet out of him. As I set down the needle, I can’t help but open up.]

All my life...I’ve lived in darkness. Sure there was a time where I was even worse if you can imagine. I tried so hard to isolate myself from everything. Then my Brothers got me out of that...and it lasted for awhile. [My hands moved, reaching for the forceps. Leaning in as I grab at the bullet. My free hand dropping to his thigh as I pulled it free. Wanting him to know I was here if he needed me. The bullet came out easily and there wasn’t a lot of blood that followed. Which was a good sign. I rubbed at his thigh for a moment before I lifted my hand off to patch him up. Speaking once again.]

But then after awhile I felt the darkness return. They all found their happy with their mates. And they deserve it. Though I never felt like I did. Which is okay. I always told myself it wasn’t in my cards. That I’m…too much for anyone to handle. To want to be around me like that. [To love me...I finished in my head. There was no way I could say that out loud. Slowly I pulled away. The tightness in my chest returned and so did the demons.] You are all set…[My voice weak as I spoke.]

Mal:

I shook my head faintly at his question - that it wasn’t the case. I had wanted to see him again. And leaving without doing so… had held me bound to this city without even needing the poltergeist job. I wanted to know what I did to him. I /wanted/ it more than I’d wanted anything in a long time.

The needle in my wing, the removal of the bullet; I hardly felt either as I watched him, aware only of the stroke of his hand on my thigh, the way it sent heat running through me, soothed the wound better than any morphine.

Listening to his story, I felt the misery that he’d thought so poorly of me fade away. How could he not, when his own race had used him as a slave and treated him as something ‘less than’? He’d pulled himself out of it, with his Brothers and the families they had here, but to hear him say that he thought a mate, a lover, wasn’t a reality when he was too deeply scarred?

The spark that had leapt between us so often ignited. I had no idea if he’d be receptive, if he’d even appreciate it, but fuck it, the male had to know…

I seized his hand as he pulled away, drawing him back. Lifting both my hands to gently cup his cheeks, I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his. He tasted like apples and steel; sweetness with strength. I felt him tense between my legs, in the cradle of my hands, and I reluctantly moved to pull back, my eyes opening.

“What do I do to you?” I breathed. I couldn’t let him go, our faces an inch apart as I searched his eyes. They weren’t the words I’d intended to say - something more along the lines of ‘you are worthy of love, and will be loved’ - but now that I’d spoken my question it was all I wanted to know. Did I make his heart race? Did I make him want more?

Did I make him wish and ache for me to stay? Because he did that to me. He was making me long to stay. To hold him like this again. Kiss him again. Prove that he wasn’t too much…

Zsadist:

[The angel pulled me in and I froze up. What came next I didn’t expect. He moved forward and planted his lips onto my own. There wasn’t a sense of disgust from him. The total opposite actually. He seemed to be enjoying it very much. As for me...it drove me crazy. Though I didn’t know quite how to react. What if I did something to turn him off? I mean hell...this was all new to me.

My hands fall to rest on the gurney, fingers curling around the edge of it. Holding on tightly as I take in the taste of the male. Even when his lips lifted off my own he didn’t pull back. He stayed nice and close to me. Then came the question. He wanted to know it all. I struggled at first. Taking a moment to think before I spoke. Suddenly realizing that my demons went quiet. Everything was quiet. I liked it.]

You...make everything feel good. And I’ve never felt that before. Ever. Hell I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling until I laid eyes on you. My heart? [Grabbing at his hand, placing it right on my chest so he could feel it beat for him.] It doesn’t just race...it wants to break free from my chest. Which by the way my chest tightens...like I long for you when you aren’t near. [Dropping my hand from his as I let out a snort.] When you left? I lost it...I lost control and been having nightmares every single night. [Did I even want to mention one of those times I called for him only to find Phury at my side. Shaking my head as I roll my shoulders.] I’ve only just met you and I can’t get you out of my head. That’s what you do to me. And fuck what I wouldn’t do to feel that spark every single day with you.

[Closing my eyes as my hands reach up to scrub roughly over my skull trim head. Why the fuck did I say all of that? Fuck! I couldn’t help it. It all just spilled out of and there was no turning back from it. As I take in a deep breath I couldn’t help but take in the scent of him and it was heavenly. No pun intended. Dropping my hands to the gurney once again. They shake as I try to grab onto something. He made me absolutely crazy. So much that I was afraid of what I might do if he were to leave again. No. He can’t go. I don’t think I could survive without him. Blinking at the thought, my head shifts barely to catch a glance at him. Almost like I was afraid of what he might do. What if he didn’t feel the same way about me?]

Mal:

I drank in his confession, a music to my ears that I’d never known I needed to hear. I’d had lovers before, hunters and humans alike, but they’d never made me feel like this. Like they were the sun and I was drifting into a new orbit. And I’d kissed the male /once/! I barely knew him. But I wanted to know him. All of him. And I only knew two words that would convey to him how badly I wanted it. More than I wanted to get back to the hunt.

“I’ll stay.”

The words left me on a whisper, but it was like a weight lifted off my chest as I said them. Relief washed through me as I watched him absorb them too, and then I was grinning, using the hand he’d placed against his chest to fist in his shirt and pull him closer again. Back to me. Back to my lips as I kissed him again, harder. Like I could pass on the giddy, elated vibes rocking my shit right now.

“Ow, fuck…”

I broke the kiss with the curse, my wings having lifted in the excitement and pulled at the fresh wound. Scowling, I shot the limb a mutinous glance then flicked my eyes back to Zsadist. He looked almost dazed, but his golden eyes were alive. So very alive. I found myself staring at them as I licked my lips.

“The sun will be up soon… I need to get outside,” I murmured regretfully, shifting to try and slide from the gurney. “I don’t suppose there are slings here? You can’t carry it outside for me. Then I guess… I’ll need to find a few gurneys down here to make a bed?” I muse ruefully, not presumptuous enough to invite myself into the manse. But I’d never tried to retract my wings with them injured. I honestly wasn’t sure I could.

Zsadist:

[I couldn’t help but let out a growl as the male tugged me in for a kiss that was way more passionate than the last. Totally getting lost in it, only to pull back when I hear him wince in pain. My brows draw in and I eye his wing. I hated the fact that he had to go outside. Yeah he was safe at the mansion, but what if something happens? I wouldn’t be able to come to his rescue. Grumbling at the thought as my head tilts to the side]

Be careful. [Looking around the PT suite before I let my eyes rest on the male’s again.] You can...sleep upstairs...in the mansion. [Hell Wrath might not like that, but how could I tell this male to sleep down here tonight. After he just not only saved my life but kissed me. Twice! My eyes focused on him as he slid off of the gurney. Hands outstretched incase I had to catch him. I hated that he was hurting and all because of me. Though I knew that he would be okay once he got some sun. Shifting out into the hallway with him, my eyes on his wings. I couldn’t get over them. They were breathtaking.]

I’ll talk to fritz about having him set up one of the guest rooms. You are...my guest. [My lips twitch at that before my eyes lifted to search his own.] Why don’t you follow me up and go out through the front door that way he can greet you when you come back inside, true? Speaking of...do you need me to carry your wing again?

[Was it an excuse to touch him again? Maybe. Did I really need an excuse? Not really. Snorting at the thought before I move to do it anyway. My fingers move through the feathers as I incline my head.] Head straight down that hallway. I got you.

[Hell I did have him. I couldn’t help but hear his words in my head over and over again. He was going to stay, but what did that mean? Stay and fight with us? Stay and...kiss me some more? My chest rumbles at the thought of that.]

Mal:

I was glad for the support as the male moved in, regardless of the question, and lifted my injured wing. A little sunlight and I’d at least, hopefully, be able to move the wing myself. If the tendons and muscles could just… knit themselves back together a touch, I could raise it to my back once more.

“A guest of the Brother Zsadist,” I murmured as we moved toward the door as one, smothering a wry grin. “I feel so important.”

I flashed him a teasing smile, the hall, a locked door and another tunnel passing in a blur until we were back in the mansion part of the grounds once more. The impressive entryway gleamed around us, but I had eyes only for the Brother as he helped me to the front door. Then the doggen appeared. He looked particularly aggrieved at my injured state, and if my wings surprised him, I couldn’t tell. Unflappable was most definitely the word to describe him.

“Masters, may I be of aid? The shutters have come down, I would hate for the my Lords to be caught out in the sun.”

Shooting Zsadist a bemused look, I shook my head.

“Thanks, my man, but I need the sunlight to heal. If you could let me back in though when I’m done, that’d be sweet,” I add, flashing him a big smile.

Doggen amused me. Don’t ask me why. They were a surreal thing, since I’d never known even one before this place and its warriors and halls of marble statues.

Zsadist:

[When we arrived upstairs the Doggen was already there to greet us. I swear Fritz always knew just about everything that was going on in the mansion. Slowly my hands dropped from the angel’s wing. Wishing I could help him outside without getting burnt to a crisp. Though my eyes never left him until the vestibule door was closed. Letting out a sigh as I turn my attention back towards the Doggen.]

He is my guest and will be heading upstairs after for some much needed rest. Please...make sure he is okay out there. If you need me, let me know. [Fritz smiled wide before bowing his head. “Of course, Sire. I’ll make sure he finds his way back inside.” With that said he heads off. But I couldn’t help myself from looking back at the closed door.

After a few moments I find myself heading up the grand staircase. I couldn’t get the angel out of my head. What if he needed me once he got back inside…? Scrubbing a hand over my skull trim as I make my way to my bedroom. Hell is this what it felt like to...care for another? I was fucked. That was for sure.

Once inside I’m greeted by the black cat that took up residence in my room. His body moved between my legs as I quickly made my way to the bathroom. I needed to just shower and wash the night off me then catch a few z’s. Hopefully with the male here in the mansion, I wouldn’t have any nightmares tonight.]

[demethinkstoomuch]

The Lucky One, pt. 1

Imagine what a strange position this must be: You’re Sylvain Jose Gautier, you’re fifteen years old, and all you want is to get laid. But it was just the worst day in everybody you care about's lives, the world is falling apart around you, and you're completely unharmed by all of it.

Content Warning: Physical Abuse, Blue Lions-typical Unresolved Grief

Read on AO3!

Part 2 | Part 3

Life, you reflect as the streets of Fhirdiad roll by, isn’t fair. You’ve known this for as long as you can remember.

The world’s falling apart around you. You’re Sylvain Jose Gautier, you’re fifteen years old, and all you want is to get laid. It’s not so much to ask, really. You want to hang out with some of the few decent people in your life, and you want to add a lot more people, usually girls, who are maybe only half-decent (at best) into your life for brief but enjoyable periods of time.

When you compare that wish to everything else going on right now, it’s really pretty pathetic. Because that’s a really stupid wish, put in context; because somehow you are, as always, the lucky one. You already know this, but now more than ever, it tastes like ashes in your mouth. It sinks into the pit of your stomach as you watch building after building pass the carriage window, all draped in sable black. The windows of the shops are covered. Normally when lots of important nobles are visiting, you’d think people would be on the streets to curiously peer towards your coach, maybe a cute girl you could wink at and she’d smile at the fancy noble in his fancy carriage — and there will be, later, because they’re like you: lucky that all they have to worry about is getting a view of the funeral procession. But right now, they’re closer to the disaster than you are — so they’re inside, waiting, leaving the streets so quiet that what movement you do see feels like someone’s trespassing.

You reach up a hand and rub your neck, still bruised sickly yellow and faded maroon under your fur-lined collar. Ok, if you could complain for a minute, you do sort of have a way in which you are not very lucky: you got caught up in someone else’s bad luck. And you can’t help but think of that, and feel the punch in the gut that’s your own fortune again.

Your old man had called everyone into his study when the letter, the one that ultimately brought you here in the best black clothes money could buy, had arrived. He was a serious guy, your father. But you’d never seen him quite so serious. With the whole family assembled, too. Your mother gave you a faint and insincere smile when you came in, with her eyes flinty and distant. Just the three of you would have been suffocating enough. But you and Miklan were in the same room together, which was a state you really tried to avoid. You tried to avoid it a lot since the whole well incident. Sometimes, you couldn’t help it. Those times, this time, tended to not go great for you.

“There’s been... “ Your father paused like he didn’t know how to say it. You added it to the number of things horribly wrong here, because he always knew what to say to get what he wanted. He always wanted something, even when you didn’t know what. “An incident. The king’s party was ambushed on their visit to Duscur. Most of them are dead.”

He sounded wooden as he delivered the final verdict.

“The king is dead.”

And everyone in the room experienced their first and last moment of family unity. You all shared a moment of stunned horror where no one could say a word.

“What about Dimitri?” Maybe you should have held back, but your head just sort of jumped. Sure, the king was the king, and he was a great guy and all. But Dimitri was your friend, that sweet kid who’d encouraged you to be free when you hadn’t thought it was possible — and somehow put up with the consequences. And if he was dead when the king was dead, what was going to happen to Faerghus?

“Prince Dimitri was injured in the attack, but survived. At the cost of all his knights...He alone survived.”

You were so relieved you dropped into a chair. It took you a half-second to even hear the rest of what your dad had said. It wasn’t like Dimitri was your only friend there — but this time, you don’t ask about Glenn. You don’t have to, even if you wanted to imagine there’d be another answer. That if you asked, you’d get something else back from that moment of fear.

“Poor Duke Fraldarius,” your mother said. “To lose his precious heir so easily…And he was so young.”

“Young? Glenn was barely older than Sylvain. Of course, maybe if he wasn’t such an idiot, he’d have joined them.” Miklan glared at you, and, hey, it burned off the slow horror of realizing that that brave, dashing friend wasn’t immortal, you weren’t immortal, no one was. You were just fed up. So that was the upside.“Shame you weren’t, you fool.”

“Miklan!” your mother snapped. Her hands were shaking. Was that her maternal heart, stirred by the loss of one of House Fraldarius’ two crest-bearing sons, and thinking of what might have been the loss of her one? (Your mother envied Duchess Fraldarius something crazy when she was alive, you remember hearing her say one quiet night.She’d never stopped envying her, and sometimes your mother thought Felix was born just to spite her. Maybe her life wasn’t fair, either, but she’s the one who decided to live like what sort of blood her kids had mattered so much.) You couldn’t tell if you hoped so or not.

“Oh, shut up, Miklan. Is this really the time for this?” you shot back. It’s not like Miklan was different — not in being a good-for-nothing, no, he’s more of an asshole — he could have been there, too, if fate had been a little different. But you weren’t going to say that, because it was really just the hour of hating sylvain, the only time that existed for him.

“I’m only speaking the truth. He’s worthless, undeserving of even a basic knighthood — but he gets to saunter around without a care in the world, heir to the family. Good knights died, and this waste of space lives to drag House Gautier with him!” He’s right, of course. Miklan’s tried hard. Studied hard. He was pretty smart, even if he was an unrelenting asshole. But he didn’t figure out how worthless it all is the way you did. So he’d hoped to live the life he wanted.

“Miklan, you will take back those words about your brother, my heir.” Nothing but finality rang in your father’s words.

“No, no, I won’t! Why do I have to watch my tongue about this spoiled brat?!” He rose up to his feet, shoulders squared and mouth a grim, intense line.

“Wow, Miklan, tell us what your really think.”

“ Stop. ” Your father’s voice was a clap of thunder, rolling through the room. Your father had stepped out from behind his desk, and his experience showed through. He was a soldier — the Margraves of Gautier had to be. He looked more like you in the face, but there, he was using the way his body had more of Miklan’s raw, intimidating bulk. His muscles tensed like an animal on the edge of biting, visible even under his fur coat. There was an indescribable feeling to those arms of his: not a tremor, not a pulse, just the sudden and certain way your eye was drawn that broadcasted something else in him, waiting to draw itself out of his movements if he needed it. And that shut Miklan up — it had to, and you couldn’t blame him for the hate in his eyes, seeing that something he couldn’t have bubbling so close to the surface.”Everyone. That’s enough, Miklan. Apologize.”

“...You have. My apologies,” Miklan grunted through gritted teeth, eyes staring daggers at you. You really wished the old man hadn’t done that; what happened next was going to be worse because he’d had to say it.

“You are all dismissed from my office. I will discuss the plans concerning the funeral later.”

(The plans were ultimately that you’d go alone. Your father would watch the region in case the instability brought trouble. Your mother would send you off looking your best, because she wanted you to be shown off as a man who was becoming more independent. Miklan would continue to be too unimportant to them to go anywhere, and he’d seethe. This was not part of the plan. You were just aware of it.)

You all shuffled out, one by one. Last out the door, you had thought you’d have a second to do something like sort out how you felt. That wasn’t what was in store for you then.

A hand reached out for your shoulder and pinned you savagely to the hallway wall. Miklan still had a way of looming over you even though there wasn’t a big difference in height anymore. But he was bigger than you anyway and threw his weight into that like a man who meant it. He locked his other hand into place on your opposite shoulder, leaving no escape for you but turning your head.

“I should wipe that smug face right off your head,” he growled. “I have nothing to apologize to you for, you crest-bearing fool.”

“Oh, I get it, it’s fine. I get that that was fake,” you tell him, which sounded like a really great way to make this worse; that must be why you said it.

“You don’t understand anything! If the Goddess won’t kill you, then I’ll finish it!” And that was when his hands stopped being on your shoulders, when the world went briefly black and blue and floorless, when the air got crushed out of your throat in the sweep of rough hands. Their callouses pressed into your windpipe. What in the flames. What in the infernal goddess-damned flames, Miklan. That was just the thought that ran through your head. “Just by existing —!”

In retrospect, it wasn’t actually worse than the well thing. It really wasn’t. You kicked him pretty hard, just wherever your feet could find the purchase, and he let go with a high yowl. Over in a second.

So you don’t know why, gasping for breath, that was what got the waterworks going. But you didn’t want either of your parents to find out — crazy, right? You didn’t want anyone knowing. You didn’t want anything getting more messed up than it already was. You weren’t even sure how you felt — or, maybe, you aren’t sure, because you’ve rolled it over in your head, trying to find an easy name for it, so many times. But you didn’t stick around for anyone to see. You ran, you didn’t say anything, you hid your neck.

Just by existing, you took everything from me.  

That was what he’d wanted to say. What he has the right to say. You just wish he hadn’t tried to say it with his hands. You’d never thought he would — not so directly. The mountain was bad, and you’re never going to forget trying to keep a grip on the well’s side for hours. But even those weren’t that big a deal. You hadn’t expected him to take it into his own grasp, to not let something else do his dirty work.

Where could it go from here? It feels like a rope in the family is getting drawn tighter and tighter, and it’s always been frayed. You just don’t want to be there when it snaps. You sigh and sink against the window of the carriage, feeling the cold that seeps in from the outside. A brief stop as city gave way to castle; it’s showtime, Sylvain old buddy.

[allisondraste]

Temperance (10/?)

Pairing: Nathaniel Howe/ Female, Non-HoF Cousland

Story Summary:  Nathaniel and Elissa were childhood friends, but time and distance tore them apart. In the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, and Ferelden’s Civil War, both Elissa and Nathaniel must attempt reconstruct their tattered lives. As a series of events lead them to be reunited, both are reminded of so many years ago when things were much simpler.

Chapter Summary:  Young Nathaniel begins to realize some things about Liss, but it wouldn't be a party if good old dad didn't mess everything up.

First Chapter Previous Chapter [AO3 LINK]

Highever, 9:18 Dragon

The sun beat down upon Highever from a cloudless sky, uncharacteristically hot and unrelenting for the typically mild Fereldan summer. Men and women, children, and animals accustomed to cooler weather walked about sluggishly, hoping for any sort of reprieve.  Nathaniel wiped away the beads of sweat that formed on forehead as he sat on a grassy hill that overlooked a small pond where the other children played. He didn’t actually mind the heat.

The heat wasn’t the only thing unusual about this particular summer, as everyone at Castle Cousland busied themselves with preparation for the arrival of King Maric and Teyrn Loghain.  From what Nathaniel could gather it was to be an important meeting of powerful people that would also include several feasts, music, and other festivities. Prince Cailan and Lady Anora were to accompany them.  

For days, Liss prattled on and on and on about getting to see the Prince and his betrothed in an almost breathless way,  eyes glittering with excitement. Nathaniel wasn’t certain she actually knew what it meant to be betrothed outside the pages of her stories.  She’d read countless tales of young maidens and their arranged marriages to handsome knights with polished silverite armor and crooked smiles.  He had, after all, listened to her recount the stories at great length. He knew her favorite characters and why they were her favorites. She’d even shown him drawings she’d made of a tall, muscular-looking woman who wielded a broadsword.  According to Fergus, she’d even begun to write her own story, filling pages upon pages of a journal but never willing to talk about what she was writing. He annoyed her about it nearly every day, and nearly every day she awarded him with a scowl and a firm punch in the arm.  It was clearly very private, and Nathaniel pretended to not even know it existed.

As he sat upon the hill, watching her splash around with Delilah and Thomas, who Father had permitted to join him in Highever this year, as well as the servant girl Liss’ parents did not like her to play with, he would have done just about anything to have her tell him the same story for the fifteenth time.  It was lonely on the hill, but he definitely could not join them in the water. Delilah or Thomas might tell Father, or worse, Father might see. He still did not understand why he wasn’t supposed to spend time with Liss. He didn’t expect he ever would. Father rarely explained his rules, but Nathaniel trusted that he knew what was best.

“How did I know I’d find you sitting here by yourself,” a voice rang out from behind him, followed by a chuckle.  It was Fergus who joined him. He was basically a man now, taller than ever with a deep voice and the beginnings of a beard.

“It’s kind of my thing,” Nathaniel answered with a sigh.  He didn’t want it to be his “thing.”

“I’ve seen you have a good time, Nate,” Fergus stated bluntly as he sat down on the grass beside him, “Just never when your old man is here.  What’s up with that?”

“Nothing,” Nathaniel snapped, darting his head toward the other boy who only smiled in return.

“My sister says your father doesn’t like that you two are friends.” Fergus plucked at some blades of grass at his side, tearing them between his fingers. “Is that true, or is she just making things up, again?”

“It’s true.” Nathaniel returned his gaze to the pond, his chest tightening as he watched Liss wrap her arms around Thomas in an attempt to pull him under the water, as she held Delilah’s hands, and as she kissed Rila’s cheek. “ I don’t know why.”

“I think I do.”

“Really?”

Fergus nodded grimly.  “I overheard your father talking to mine.  Something about wanting to arrange for my sister to marry your brother.”

“Like a betrothal,” Nathaniel huffed, “Liss will love that.”

“Father wouldn’t have it, said that Couslands do not treat their children like property, and that he would not decide Liss’ future for her.”  He shook his head and laughed. “There was some angry shouting, and then your father stormed out of the room.”

“My father does a lot of angry shouting and storming out of rooms,” Nathaniel took a deep breath, and stared at the ground, unable to look back out at the pond or up to Fergus. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with me being close to Liss.”

Fergus tried and failed to contain a laugh, so he ended up half-snorting as he slapped Nathaniel roughly on the back. “Well, if Liss fell in love with you, that’d get in the way of her marrying little Tom one of these days, now wouldn’t it?”

“Me? And Liss?” Nathaniel’s voice cracked as he spoke, causing him to squeak.  It’d been doing that a lot lately, and it was not helping him to sound serious or like anything other than some kind of awkward bird. He narrowed his eyes. “That’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and you say a lot of stupid things.”

Fergus fell backward, cackling and holding his sides.  Had Liss not been otherwise occupied she would have punched him to make him stop, but Nathaniel preferred to wait him out. Especially since any time he opened his mouth there was a potential to incite more obnoxious laughter. “Sorry Nate,” he said between laughs, “I know you can’t help your voice but…” he trailed off, “Hey, at least by next summer, you’ll sound completely different.”

“Whatever.”

“You can impress my sister with your deep, manly voice.”  He elbowed Nathaniel in the arm. “Hmm?”

“It’s not like that, Fergus,” Nathaniel protested. “We’re just friends.  We’ll always just be friends.”

“Right, right, whatever you say,” Fergus threw his hands up, “But you sure put up with a lot of my sister’s nonsense to just be a friend.”

“I don’t put up with anything.” Nathaniel let his annoyance show in his voice, “I like Liss’ ‘nonsense.’ It’s-.” He paused, realizing the initial end of that sentence proved Fergus’ point.

A devious grin stretched across the older boy’s face, one so similar to Liss’ that Nathaniel couldn’t hate it.  “What were you going to say? Were you going to say that you think it’s cute?”

“No.”

“You were,” Fergus shouted, “Hah! I knew it!”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and ignored Fergus’ teasing.  Did he like Liss in a different way than just friends? Was that why watching her spend time with the others when he couldn’t join made his chest hurt. He wasn’t used to feeling so angry or resentful toward his sister and brother, but ever since they arrived, he wanted nothing more than for them to go home.  Now, with what Fergus overheard about Thomas, he wished it even more.

He watched as Liss climbed out of the pond, dripping from head to toe, quickly averting his eyes to the ground when he realized the linens in which she swam had become translucent in the water. He’d gone swimming with her before. This was nothing new to see, but it seemed impolite now.  His heart climbed into his throat as he saw her walking in his direction from the corner of his eye. Fergus was still talking about her, and Nathaniel panicked.

“She’s coming, shut up,” he said slapping Fergus on the arm.  Fergus looked at his sister and then back at Nathaniel, eyes sparkling with amusement. He took a breath, and opened his mouth to speak again, but Nathaniel covered it with his hand. “Shut. Up.”

Fergus raised his hands in a truce, eyes still smiling, and Nathaniel uncovered his mouth, but continued to glare at him with the most threatening expression he could muster. Not that it would stop the much larger boy from embarrassing him.  There was no force in Thedas that would do that.

“You two are missing out on the fun,” Liss said cheerfully, plopping down on the ground beside Nathaniel.  Cool water droplets bounced from her hair with the movement, sprinkling onto his skin.

“Don’t be silly, Sis.” Fergus’ voice was full of irony. “Nathaniel doesn’t know how to have fun.”

“Be nice.” Liss leaned over and around Nathaniel to smack her brother on the head. “You okay, Nate?” Her hand fell on Nathaniel’s shoulder and he looked up at her even though he knew he shouldn’t. His heart immediately skipped a beat and he wanted to bury his head in the dirt.  He’d never thought about her like that before. Why now? Clearly this was Fergus’ doing for mentioning it.

He just nodded and Liss gave him a disbelieving look.  She’d known him long enough to know better.

“I,” she announced, poking his cheek and letting her finger rest there, “Don’t believe you.”

His face burned hot, and he wasn’t sure if it was the actual heat or the insufferable shame he felt just being so near her now.  He turned his eyes to look at Fergus who looked as if he were about to burst, then lightly swatted Liss’ hand away. It was absent minded, an attempt to alleviate the embarrassment boiling up in him, but he knew what it meant to her.

Nathaniel forced himself to meet her gaze, and to see the hurt expression on her face as she pulled away from him. “Liss, I - ,”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she stated tersely, standing up and stomping away, back down to the pond where the others greeted her fondly.   He brought his hands to his face and shook his head, falling back into the grass.

“That went well,” Fergus teased.“Tell me again how you don’t like my sister.  I’m waiting.”

“Piss off,” Nathaniel muttered, voice muffled by his hands.

Nathaniel had the remainder of the afternoon and evening to ruminate. Despite Fergus forcing him to distraction by dragging him to the kennels, he couldn’t seem to get Liss off his mind. He still was not quite sure what to make of anything that happened. He had only known her for a few years, but it was impossible to remember a time when she hadn’t been a major part of his life. He honestly didn’t care to. There had been so few people who took such a vested interest in him, who truly cared.  For all that he preferred solitude, he enjoyed her company more. Even when he said he wanted to be alone, it did not apply to her. He loved her, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that.

However, the new set of feelings that had smacked him this summer made him uncomfortable. He was afraid to admit to those because that meant that things between he and Liss could never be the same again.  He would never be able to look at her without feeling like he was suffocating, without his chest aching. And, if what Fergus said had any truth to it, and he figured it did knowing Father, he would always feel that way.  He would never be allowed to act on it. Ever.

With a mournful sigh, he flung himself down on his bed.  It was still early for sleep, but if he lay there long enough, it wouldn’t be.   He could drift off and not think about Liss and how pretty she was, or how she smelled nice, or how she smiled when she talked about her favorite books.  He also wouldn’t have to think about the hurt in her eyes when he brushed her off earlier. He would have dreamless sleep and think absolutely nothing about Elissa Cousland or how she made him want to die.  Maybe it was just a fever and he’d wake up with the tangled ball of emotions inside him gone. He rolled his eyes at himself. Unlikely.

A rapid succession of knocks at his door jolted him from his bed and he rushed to answer it.  Unfastening the lock he reached for the handle but the door burst open before he even touched it, and he took a step backward to keep it from hitting him in the nose.  Liss barged into the room and shut the door behind her, leaning against it. Her eyes were red and swollen from tears that continued to fall, and she was sniffling, trying to catch her breath.

“Liss, what’s -.” She fell forward into his arms, catching him off guard.  All the shame and embarrassment from earlier fizzled away, replaced by overwhelming concern.  He hugged her to him tightly, unsure what else he could do.

“I’m sorry to...to bother you,” she said through sobs and sniffles,”You probably don’t want me here.”

“No, it’s fine,” he reassured her, “What’s wrong?”

“After we finished swimming, Rila and I wanted to show Delilah and Thomas our spot in the garden.  You know the one?” She looked up at Nathaniel desperately, and he shook his head. He knew the one.  “While we were there, your father came to look for your brother and sister, I don’t know why - something about introducing them to some important people at dinner... “ She trailed off, tears still streaking down her face.

Nathaniel’s heart dropped like lead into his stomach.  He had an idea where this story was going, and it made him sick.  He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her out and away from him so he could look at her directly. “What did my father do, Liss?”

A look of anguish crossed her delicate features and she shook with sobs again.  He’d never seen her like this before. “He saw Rila, and he got really angry. She didn’t even do anything, but he was just so angry.  He called her a ‘knife-ear’ and told me and the others we had no business playing with ‘filth.’

“Rila ran off, and I went to find her once your Father left, but she wouldn’t listen.  She told me she hated me and never wanted to talk to me again. This is all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” Nathaniel grasped her shoulders more firmly, “She is your friend and you couldn’t have known this would happen.”

She pulled back. “But I did!  Mama and Papa have told me tons of times, but I just didn’t listen.  I’m stupid. I’m a stupid, dumb person who never listens.” She tapped her forehead repeatedly with the heel of her hand.  “Rila is never going to be my friend again.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, almost in a whisper, and she wrapped her arms around him again.  Her hair was still damp and smelled like the outside air. He wished he knew what to say, that he was good at consoling people, but that was not a strength of his.  He wondered why she sought him out instead of her parents, instead of Fergus.

“I get it now.”  Liss’ expression hardened as she pulled away again, and she offered him a definitive nod.  “I know why you are different when he’s here. I didn’t before, not really, but I do now.”

“Father is…” He sighed. “Difficult.”

“I hate him,” Liss snapped, unapologetically.

“Sometimes... I think I might, too.”  He laughed bitterly and walked to sit on the edge of his bed. “But he’s my father, and I have to respect his wishes.”

It was staggering to think that he might hate his own father, let alone admit it out loud.  Liss walked over and sat beside him, leaning her head against his shoulder. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t have to.  He understood the gesture well enough. He offered her his hand and she laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly.

They sat there for several moments in heavy silence until footsteps and the voices of men were heard down the hallway.

“Rendon, I assure you Nathaniel is not having an undue influence on Elissa,” Bryce’s voice urged, “And I certainly doubt she’s in his room right now.”  He had spoken so loudly on purpose. It was a warning.

Liss and Nathaniel both startled, and they looked at each other with widened eyes, conveying their plan without any words.  She drew a finger to her lips and slid down to the floor, crawling under the bed. He hurried to busy himself, taking a book from the shelf, rushing to his desk an pretending to be intently focused on the dusty tome that was almost certainly about Mabari.

There was a gentle knock at the door. “It’s open,” Nathaniel shouted, his heart pounding in his chest.

Bryce entered first, followed by Father, who looked around the room suspiciously.  “See,” he said in the same cheerful tone Liss always used. “She’s not here.” He winked at Nathaniel discreetly.

“Yes, well.” His father approached the desk, boots clicking against the stone floor.  He placed a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder with enough pressure that it was uncomfortable. “One can never be certain with this one.  He is always up to something.”

“Nathaniel has always been on his best behavior with us,” Bryce’s voice was happy, but his eyes looked sad.

“I am sure he is.”  He released Nathaniel’s arm and walked out of the room.  Bryce lingered behind for a moment, offering an apologetic expression before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

Liss crawled out from under the bed and stood, more shyly than he had ever seen her, in the center of the room.  She had the same expression her father had worn.

“I should probably go.” She motioned toward the door with her thumb. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, too.”

Nathaniel wanted to ask her to stay, to say that he didn’t care what Father thought, that it was worth the risk because she was the only friend he had ever really had.  But he didn’t. He just hung his head and watched as she left his room, closing the door gently behind her.

[ralph-n-fiennes]

RALPH FIENNES LOOSENS UP - GQ MAGAZINE

Well, loose for Ralph Fiennes, anyway. The actor and director lives a life of high culture like practically no one else alive. Lately, he's been making us laugh, too.

Ralph Fiennes seems both parodically English and consummately European, the way classical music isn't bound by borders, either. In addition to all measure of British, he has played, to my count: Austrian, Irish, French, German, Hungarian, Russian, and unspecified Balkan—as well as American (both WASP and serial-killer varieties), and Snake. He appears to carry with him, among many other charms, a cache of words, phrases, and proper pronunciations of non-English languages, like a deep pocketful of pre-Eurozone coins. It is very fun to listen to him talk in movies—and in person in London, as I did, for a few hours in late January.

I say all this to help explain why Fiennes registers to many interested in his life and career as one of our ultimate cosmopolitans. He is, just to list some of his culture bona fides, one of the living actors most associated with Shakespeare. He has said that he and his six siblings grew up listening to vinyl recordings of poetry recitations. He has often acted in films based on the acclaimed novels of major-prize-winning authors. He has said the talent he would most like to have is playing the violin. He has said that when he travels for a film, he always does so with the complete Beethoven piano sonatas, a “talisman” and “safety net for when one is feeling a bit bruised or battered.” He has described the greatest love of his life as “having a transforming encounter with a Work of Art, either as a listener, viewer, reader, spectator, or participant.” He is fluent in painting styles and the names of museum directors and the great theaters of both the East and the West. He is fluent in ballet now, too, since he's just directed a movie about the Soviet dancer Rudolf Nureyev. He enjoys hopping on the Eurostar to Paris from his home in London. He enjoys short flights to European capitals. He enjoys picking up his rental car in Umbria so that he may drive—the only time he drives—to his “tiny farmhouse” in the Italian countryside, where he goes “to read.” He has said his idea of perfect happiness is “swimming naked in the sea.” He has said that when and where he was happiest in his life was “swimming in Voidokilia Bay in the southern Peloponnese.” While we were together, he sounded most like Ralph Fiennes when he said European-sounding nouns, like “Peugeot” and “Tchaikovsky” and “salade niçoise.” He pronounced the little tail thing on the c, and, as a Fiennes character might direct him to, he pronounced it trippingly.

This cosmopolitanism seems to have sort of become the point about Ralph Fiennes in recent years. Wes Anderson may have been the first to recognize a new use for this caricature: that in the post-heartthrob Fiennes, a filmmaker could mine middle-life pathos, as well as levity and humor; that if a character were to possess an arch knowingness about the fact that he was being played by Ralph Fiennes, it might be really, really fun to watch.

Actually, maybe credit belongs to Martin McDonagh and In Bruges. The joke there was that Fiennes—the very high culture of his cells—could play the antithesis of so many counts and kings: an irritable East End gangster with a Shakespearean facility with fucking fuck fucks. Maybe that was the pivot?

Or, scratch that, too—perhaps it started earlier, with his first nose-less “Avada Kedavra!” in a Harry Potter movie. Maybe that was when we felt the options expand.

Regardless, there's been a slow shift, iterative at first, and then all at once wholly present, in a new series of roles for Fiennes over the past decade or so. There would always be the bedrock of English/European-set drama (Schindler's List, The English Patient, The Constant Gardener, The End of the Affair, Sunshine, just to name some acclaimed heavies), but there was space now for a fresh kind of on-screen presence. You get the Oscar-nominated talent and the self-awareness, too.

Take Luca Guadagnino's A Bigger Splash, for example, where Fiennes plays a motor-mouthing cocktail of taste and devil-may-care that could be reduced to something like: Ralph Fiennes type—but with all of the shirt buttons unbuttoned. Ralph Fiennes type—but with a Jagger falsetto and breezy linen. There's a scene in which Fiennes's Harry Hawkes leads his compatriots to a no-tourists dinner spot on a secluded hillside on an Italian island, doling out por favores and grazies as he gracefully inserts himself into the hospitable hands of the locals. I remember thinking in the theater, or on the plane, or wherever: This. This is what you get when you strip off the uniform of haughty propriety, but still have all the knowingness—all the language and command and wisdom amassed from a lifetime of moving fluidly across European borders. The result is very funny and very cool.

When we met in January, Fiennes had just finished a 76-show run of Antony and Cleopatra at the National Theatre in London. He'd spent the previous day—his one and only day off between the play and a new film shoot—reading books and responding to e-mails. (He'd been journaling when I first approached our table.) Fiennes still had his beard from the play, but it would be gone by that evening. He made reference to “what little hair I have left” on top, a style that changes often. The fixtures of his face were plenty there, though. The prominent nose and brow. The sticky-outy canines. The sensitive pale eyes, ticklish to the light—ever-present in the heroes and the villains alike, the same pair on Count Almásy as on Voldemort. The eyes were so familiar. As was the voice. His voice sounded exactly like Ralph Fiennes.

Sometimes actors make choices to pivot their careers. Other times those choices—those theories about their work, the sort of I've just laid out above—are more arbitrary, connecting unrelated opportunities in an effort to make sense of them, the way we trace weird animals out of the stars. Fiennes has said that, at times in his career, he felt people presuming that he only did a certain kind of dramatic role. I asked him if the run of films including In Bruges and The Grand Budapest Hotel and A Bigger Splash felt like a pivot.

“It did feel like that,” he said. “I cannot tell you how thrilled I was when Wes asked me to be in the film. And when Martin McDonagh approached me to be a kind of London gang boss. Which is not my obvious casting bracket.… And then Luca came to me with that great part, and it felt exciting to me, that ‘Oh, great, I'm not being seen as, I don't know, English intellectual or sort of cool, crisp bad guy.…’ The thing that people were responding to was the comedic, or the humorous, that was clearly in Wes's script, and Martin's, and in A Bigger Splash, and also the wonderful scene I was asked to do in the Coen brothers' film [Hail, Caesar!].” (Would that i' t'were so simple...)

I told him I'd been wondering how active he was in the pursuit of that pivot, since it's difficult to know how much an actor's hands are on the wheel.

“I think it's a very valid question. And I think sometimes actors are absolutely going: I want to do this and this.And other times it comes to you. All the stuff I've loved doing most has come to me. Sent to me.”

In the case of A Bigger Splash, Luca Guadagnino, who'd made it “an aim” of his to work with Fiennes ever since seeing Schindler's List and Quiz Show, told me he knew the actor for Harry “had to be somebody who could carry a complete buffoonish, clownish character combined with melancholy—and there was no doubt Ralph was the right person for that.” At the time, Fiennes had done The Grand Budapest Hotel, Guadagnino continued, and a trailer had just come out: “And I saw him briefly in a pink tie, being suave and swarthy in that little clip, and it was, ‘See, he's perfect.’ He's not only a master of shades of brooding-ness and melancholy, but he can also bring a levity and a capacity of likability that is really unique.” That well-worn heavy, and the new light. Perfect.

Fiennes is a voracious reader, and many of the films he's best known for have been adapted from the works of renowned authors. Michael Ondaatje. Graham Greene. Peter Carey. Shakespeare and Dickens. Even with the more genre-y, it's the best of the genre: Ian Fleming, John le Carré. I asked him if there was any intentionality to those clusters, to working with material from notable novelists.

“I know, I've been asked that before,” he said, seeming to consider it fresh. “But I think I'm responding to the film. And I've been happy to do things that are not based on a book, like In Bruges or The Grand Budapest Hotel.”

I asked if “his people” know what he's going to go for at this stage.

“I believe they know what I respond to,” he said. “But I'm actually not a good reader of film scripts. I'd rather read… I mean, I think I try the patience of the people who represent me.” He laughed knowingly. “If there's a book to read, and they're both sitting there…I'll go to the book, I'll read the script later.… If a certain amount of pressure is put on me, I'll go, Sorry, sorry, I'm doing it.”

I asked Tony Revolori, who played Fiennes's teenage co-lead in The Grand Budapest Hotel, if he remembered what Fiennes was reading on set. “A book of Shakespeare's sonnets,” naturally. Revolori said that Fiennes taught him “the proper way” to read those sonnets and then presented him with a “beautifully designed book” of those poems at the end of the shoot. On set, there were discussions of diction with director Wes Anderson. Tongue twisters were introduced. She stood upon the balustraded balcony inimicably mimicking him hiccuping while amicably welcoming him in. “Tongue-twister battles” ensued. (I would be disingenuous if I described any of this as being shocking.)

From a distance, it is hard to see Fiennes's life as anything but full and packed wall-to-wall with high culture. I asked if he, as a Known Culture Person with a love of things like theater and opera and classical music and art, worried there was something “slipping” in culture?

“I think, 'cause the National is fresh, I can talk about that with a bit more—I can know my thoughts more about the National more than…”

“Than all of culture, like I'm asking you?” I said.

He laughed. “It may be nostalgia, it may be how I'm choosing to remember, but you felt that within the National Theatre—and certainly at Stratford it is the case—they have to function as the company. I think it's probably impossible to do that now because of the way the entertainment business works, and the way actors need to be a part of—the pay is not high—so you have to make money on television or doing voice-overs. But maybe I have a romantic sense of the company.”

Fiennes's first big break came in 1988, in Stratford, with the Royal Shakespeare Company, the company of companies. “I wanted to be an actor because I was excited by Shakespeare. It was thrilling and moving. I don't know, I had a quite naive infatuation with Shakespeare. I thought, What a wonderful thing to be in the Royal Shakespeare Company, or the National—and I didn't really think about films, because that seemed like another world.”

Shakespeare led to his first films, which led to a meeting with Spielberg and a role as an Austrian Nazi. In 1993, he was nominated for his first Oscar and embarked on the 25-year movie career that's followed. “If he picks the right roles and doesn't forget the theater,” Spielberg said of Fiennes at the time, unwittingly providing a useful blueprint, “I think he can eventually be Alec Guinness or Laurence Olivier.”

Fiennes didn't forget the theater, and he returns to Shakespeare frequently. The plays were his first love. And despite all forces pushing younger actors toward other kinds of work, he finds that that same infatuation endures with a new generation. “Even just walking back from our last-night Saturday, across the bridge to a party we were having [to celebrate the end of the production], one of the younger female members of the cast, a tiny part, but a lovely presence…she was saying, ‘I just wanted to do Shakespeare. I just love it. I just…’ And she expressed what I had felt. I was so touched, actually, because she said it with such ‘I just love Shakespeare.’ ”

“I know the film asks questions; I don't know that it answers them. I don't know that a film should answer. I like films that provoke me to think.”

Walking back across the bridge. I love that. Every actor, unknown and galactically famous, leveled out, in it together, the intimacy with one another, and with the city where they performed each night. It was fun to get a glimpse of Fiennes in London. It'd almost be a shame to encounter him anywhere else. We walked around Covent Garden for a bit, and he pointed out the grand theaters of the West End. That's where Eliza Doolittle sells flowers in the beginning of Pygmalion. That was Dickens's office. Fantastic. He delineated the precise border of the City of London, pointing at “that church-y thing over there,” a critical marker. We ended up facing the National Theatre—across the very bridge he'd mentioned—and it was sort of like being Ouija-ed by a drunk back to his favorite bar. The theater felt like home position, like all wanderings might wind up back there. Fiennes has lived and worked mostly in London all his career. I asked him if he ever thinks about elsewhere.

“I love London. I think London is a great city. I think it's got fantastic things. I don't know, I guess I've thought about elsewhere but haven't done it, because if it's working, why fix it?” he said. “I'm at a funny time, and I keep wanting to make a shift in the way I, where I live or how I live. I live in London, I've lived in London all my adult life, I live in the East End Shoreditch area, before it became über-hip, I bought a place in 2000. I've got a very lovely place in New York, which I love going to. But most of the work I get tends to be based out of here. And the theater work… I keep going back, because I miss it, I miss that thing.”

Fiennes has the rest of the year “chalked up” already. Five new films: a Kingsman prequel, a new Bond (“I'm waiting to get a Bond script; I'm hoping for a sexy location”), and three-ish other interesting-sounding dramas. Plus the release of The White Crow—Fiennes's third film as director—about a young Rudolf Nureyev, the famed Soviet dancer, and his defection from the USSR to France in 1961.

The White Crow features several scenes that capture those “transforming encounters with a Work of Art” Fiennes has described as the loves of his life. In one flashback, a young Nureyev—born on a trans-Siberian train to poor parents—is taken by his mother to the theater. We don't see what's transpiring onstage, only what's transpiring across his face. We see it happen again when Nureyev, older now and in training in Leningrad, stands before the Rembrandts at the Hermitage Museum. And then, once again, when he wakes up early one morning, to make sure he's the first person at the Louvre, so he can have Géricault's The Raft of the Medusa all to himself.

Again and again and again—“transforming encounters with a Work of Art.”

I read Fiennes's words back to him.

He laughed in recognition. “Yeah, okay. I'd forgotten that.”

I asked him about those scenes in the film.

“Those scenes,” he said, “the one in the Louvre and the one in the Hermitage, with the Rembrandt, those were the scenes that really moved me. Because the engagement with the Rembrandt… I thought The Prodigal Son, looking at it, when we shot that, I was so emotional, I wasn't crying, but on the inside… Those were holy days for me.”

I told Fiennes I knew he'd answered this question after directing his first two films, but I wondered if the answer had evolved during his third: Among the directors he'd worked with, had he cobbled together bits from one or another to help inform him, or was he standing on his own now?

“I don't know that I'm consciously taking from the films I've been in, in terms of visuals, in terms of cinematography,” he said. “But I certainly, in terms of ways of working…I'm often interested in Spielberg, whose energy, vocal… He's not a quiet sort of monosyllabic, quiet-voiced director. He's just direct. ‘Just go here.’ ‘Just put this lens on.’ ‘Come sit down.’ ‘Do it quickly.’ Very clever. Totally positive. And you can feel it. I remember the set, people loved it, because there was a sense of momentum. I think generally actors and crew love it when they feel this forward momentum and, along with it, good work.”

“Deliberate intention,” I said.

“Deliberate intention,” he said. “Wavering, wavering on the set is…” He chuckled darkly. “Too much wavering is worrying. And, like, Anthony Minghella [during The English Patient] was brilliant with actors. A gentle provocation towards looking for something other… It was in my lack of experience that I thought he was wanting me to ‘hit it,’ to ‘nail it.’ But I think actually, quite rightly, he's looking for ‘What else is there that I can get that this actor can own so that they're not contriving something to satisfy me?’ ”

“The pleasure is that I see a French film and meditate on what it, being an Englishman, what it says to me...it offers up new provocations, and also confirms common identity of being a human being.”

After lunch, we walked a short distance to the Royal Opera House, where Nureyev had danced and where a large black-and-white portrait of him hangs in the wings, hovering above the dancers as they step onto the stage. The Royal Opera House is also where Fiennes took ballet lessons of his own—eight or nine, he says—with a dancer in the Royal Ballet named Bennet Gartside, in preparation to play the legendary Soviet ballet teacher Alexander Pushkin. Once, and only once, in my presence, Fiennes did that incredibly weird thing where an actor transforms his head and face and body into another human being in a flash, a total magic trick, while showing me the way Pushkin did something or other.

The White Crow centers on the 1961 trip to Paris by the Kirov—the famed Leningrad ballet company. Nureyev is played by the Russian dancer Oleg Ivenko, who leaps and spins throughout as tightly as the threads of a screw. The film builds to a masterfully suspenseful climax at Le Bourget Airport in Paris, where Nureyev has to choose between defecting to the West or being sent back to the Soviet Union to face some unknown—but likely terrible—fate.

“It's not an easy decision as he sits there in the room. We've seen the love of the mother, we've seen the support of Pushkin, and we've seen those friends—it's not just the oppressive evil empire, it wasn't stifling,” Fiennes said. “When we shot Leningrad, the Soviet scenes, I wanted it quite classically framed, and ever so slightly, we bring the color up. We don't want to confirm the cliché of the gray Soviet world. And when I tried to look at color stills of the Soviet era, they're quite hard to find, but when you find them—bang!—I mean everyone, the women, the red, red being the political color, but red is everywhere. But it pops! And we see so many black-and-whites, it's so weird what this very basic visual thing does. Yeah, I just…it's complicated.… I know the film asks questions; I don't know that it answers them. I don't know that a film should answer. I like films that provoke me to think.”

When I met Fiennes in London in late January, politics was on the surface. Theresa May's Brexit plan had just been rejected by Parliament. And Fiennes had recently given a little-seen speech at the European Film Awards, in which he had spoken about film's role in Europe, and Europe's present relationship to Britain. The speech was economically rendered, but urgent and unequivocal in its diagnosis of political crisis in Europe and the U.K., and of film's role as a remedy:

In anticipation of this occasion…I couldn't help but reflect on what it is to consider oneself European. Is it an instinct? A feeling of belonging? Can I be English and European? Emphatically: Yes. That is my feeling in my gut.

There is arguably a crisis in Europe, and our feeling of family, of connection, of shared history, shared wounds, this feeling is being threatened by a discourse of division. A tribal and reactionary vocabulary is among us. It is depressing and distressing to witness the debate in my own country about who we are in relation to Europe. In England now, there is only the noise of division.

But film, filmmaking, the expression within a film, can be a window for us to see another human being, another human experience, and we can celebrate our differences of language, culture, custom, and our common humanity at the same time. But the act of seeing, seeing another, seeing through the lens, carries in it, I believe, the vital act of bearing witness. Perhaps if we truly bear witness, there can be a true connection, and a better understanding.… Our films can be songs, crossing borders and languages with melodies and harmonies in the form of light and sound and narrative patterns.

We discussed the speech, and his intentions with it. I asked him how much some of the ideas in The White Crow—the way ballet could move across borders, like the films he describes—were on his mind when he delivered the speech.

“I just had an instinct, that I wanted to say how much, how important I felt the community of filmmakers are, and given what this was, I would really be meaning European filmmakers, at the time when my own country is divided about what it means to be linked to Europe,” he said. “Not that countries have to make films that express [exclusively] their culture.… The pleasure is that I see a French film and meditate on what it, being an Englishman, what it says to me…it offers up new provocations, and also confirms common identity of being a human being. And I do feel, I suppose it links what I hope is identifiable in the film: [that he is] being moved and therefore changed by exposure to a work of art. It's a dialogue.”

There are the works of art in The White Crow, I said, and also the cities themselves. Before Nureyev sees the performances or the paintings, he's walking about first Leningrad and then Paris, experiencing that new feeling of somewhere else, letting it in. Fiennes doesn't shy away from his comparable feelings for Russia. The feelings you discover when a place becomes for you the people who live there and not just the political systems that dominate headlines.

“I've formed over the years a handful of friendships in Russia, a handful who are very important to me, and I love going there. And I'm aware of the… I mean the authoritarian nature of their regime that's in control of mostly all the press, and the creep of censorship and control, is very disturbing. But when I'm there, I sort of: There's life going on. I see amazing theater plays, and I have friendships with people.… What interested me was the common humanity underneath the ideological, political fisticuffs.”

I said that hearing about his friends in Russia reminded me of the same dynamic in the United States, the dissonance between the noise of American politics and the lives of most Americans, how most people have nothing to do with the political headlines, how most people are trying to do their best, to generally be kind to their neighbors.

“That's it. Exactly. Exactly. I'm sure that, you know… I mean, nothing that I read about Republican politics makes me think I would ever be sympathetic…but I'm sure that I could go to a Republican community in America and be welcomed, and looked after, and treated with extraordinary generosity and decency and kindness, and those people might go support a Republican candidate the next day.”

That continued exchange between human beings, whether ultimately fruitless or not, seems critical to Fiennes. And art continues to be one of the pre-eminent currencies of at least the exchange of culture.

“Ballet, not being connected to any spoken language, is an extraordinary communicator.… And as an audience member, whether it's a film, or a ballet, or a play, it feels so important to me that we have the privilege of being exposed to these things.... This is the one area, cultural interaction…where we can talk to each other. So when that's impacted, it seems serious.”

We discussed performers and companies struggling to get visas.

“I'm not saying that they're not coming anymore, but it is a challenge that you have to get a visa to go to Russia. And it's funny, isn't it, that I think the cultural interchange, interaction, exhibitions, theater, ballet, coming, that is where we can be like—”

Fiennes threaded his fingers together, hopefully, like hands in prayer.

Daniel Riley is GQ's features editor.

A version of this story originally appeared in the April 2019 issue with the title "Ralph Fiennes Loosens Up."

PRODUCTION CREDITS: Photographs by Scandebergs Styled by Jon Tietz Grooming by Ciona Johnson-King Set design by Zach Apo-Tsang at Magnet Agency Produced by Samira Anderson/Mai Productions

Huge thanks to the amazing @tessa-quayle for helping me out with this impossible-to-open article

[overazielous]

Hey, Raziel! I’ve been a big fan of you for well over eleven years now and have admired, loved, and respected you ever since I first played Legacy of Kain but I’m relatively new to this blog so if this is a question you’ve already answered I do apologize. What were your honest feelings about your brothers and Kain before the execution? Did you respect any of them, feel as if you needed to protect any of em or even hate one or more of them?

[[Welcome & thank you for saying nice things! You may immediately regret asking because I wrote a goddamn novel in reply. I’m so sorry. Also sorry if you don’t vibe w/ my interpretation of the brothers! Especially Turel!]]

“A fan of me? That’s very kind. Perhaps a tad disconcerting but kind of you nonetheless.” Raziel said with an open gesture of his claws and a nod in acknowledgement. Today found him propped up against the hearth of a great fireplace. He looked at once out of place among such fine stonework but comfortable in his chosen spot. “You want to hear of my brothers than? A far cry from what we were & yet not so different at the core…” He mused as he folded his claws upon his cloaked chest. “I’m going to entrust you with this gossip, Ariel.”

Raziel’s ruined wings were splayed across the hearth to the left of him. Ariel, in some semblance of being seated, was perched upon them as if they were a morbid picnic blanket. “I’m honored.” She tittered.

“So far as my attitude before I was given a long toss from a short cliff I will admit to a certain amount of naiveté. Everything was coming along swimmingly… no pun intended, unless it was explicitly stated to me otherwise. I saw nothing damning in my relationship with my brothers. Hind sight, & all that.” The wraith gave a thoughtful pause. “I was protective of all of them whether they wanted it or not. I supposed I felt vehemently that it was my job to keep the Empire running & by extension keep well those running it.”

“I would be accused now & then of playing favorites, which I did not, when I would spend a large amount of time with one or the other. I aided who needed it. It could be considered hilarious how utterly blind I chose to be to my brethren being a horde of petty, jealous little goblins.” He said, his brow creasing in frustration.

“Family…” Ariel murmured knowingly. She hadn’t meant to reflect on the feeling out loud but she was grateful to be met with a half-hearted chuckle from the wraith.

“Sometimes I would wager them better than I in their own regards… Melchiah, especially. I wore empathy too close to the surface. No one was a particular fan of it. Most had probably thought I used it to manipulate & undermine them. Melchiah knew me to be earnest but felt perhaps undeserving of it. I do hope he didn’t resent me too much. Being the Son lastly raised I felt some of the others would waste no time picking his share clean given the chance.”

“He was, however, far from being the meek youngest. Melchiah was always quite grounded in reality. He knew his strengths & his limits & how to use them. I don’t think I can recall a time he ever complained of his status or share, in front of me at least. There was no one in Nosgoth more genuine & as such we oft kept genuine company. Out of the five of them, Mel knew me best.’

“Rahab, as well, was sharply focused. The two of them in comparison made the rest of us look like a shaken cage of self-righteous fighting cocks.” The sheer sincerity with which he uttered that simile caught Ariel off-guard. She brought a translucent hand to her half-mangled mouth to stifle a laugh. “Rahab was the smartest of us, no doubt. He seemed to me always so serene even in the midst of battle. Perhaps it was his way of keeping us at arm’s length where he had more control. He was like a mirrored lake waiting demurely for one good storm. I’m not sure whether to be grateful or saddened about surely having missed such a storm in my absence.” At this Raziel paused. He was undoubtedly attempting to repackage the guilt he felt for having not been there when needed of his brothers. He knew that to be nonsensical: he was busy being dead & the remaining Sons had brought the Empire down onto their own heads. Knowing this didn’t always stop him from feeling an empty, aching longing to have helped.

Ariel gave him a moment to shift his thoughts. When it seemed he may have become caught up dwelling in a sorrow she knew quite well she asked, “And what of that chattering creature in the courtyard?” She liked to frequent the courtyard to watch the colors in the flower beds. The nightmarish devolved vampire that had taken up residence there had always had something to say.

“Ah, Zephon. I’d advise you to tell him off but that might have the opposite effect. Telling Zephon to mind his own business is akin to giving orders to Kain. Not only will he not do what was asked but he will indeed do the opposite & with great enthusiasm.”  Raziel replied. “There is a lot I could say about Zephon & most of it isn’t exactly shining praise. Zephon was the kind to have a hand in as many pots as possible with which to stir up trouble. The epitome of chaos.”

“As you can imagine, his schemes had him at odds with one or more of us at any given time. I once declined to speak to him for an entire century & I was supposed to be the patient one. Exasperating is a word. We weren’t as close as perhaps we could have been. Even though I could endure him longer than our brothers I think there is a time limit to how long Zephon can compose himself before he starts saying things he will regret. One didn’t visit with Zephon, you managed your time with Zephon carefully. Anything you said in front of him you’d then have to consider it news to all of Nosgoth.” Whilst Raziel explained his voice became emphatically incensed before he reigned in his indignation.

“The others knew better than to engage him. I was too dense with pride, among other things, to quit trying to police his behavior. He was thusly always more than happy to get under my skin.” He then breathed a curt laugh. “Dumah had none of it. I recall an instance wherein Dumah, charging ever forward, completely ignored Zephon’s jackal-like chittering & put an entire hand over his sharp face, picked him up by the skull, & moved him out of the way. A role model to us all, honestly.” Raziel readjusted his composure as he quelled his sarcasm.

“Dumah & I got along famously.” The wraith said. Tragic longing began creeping back into his voice at the recollection but it yielded as he continued. “Dumah was the model soldier. Strong, stalwart, & unfaltering. Between him & Rahab their input, strategic or otherwise, often kept any of my plans from becoming too, well, dramatic. Don’t you laugh at me coming to terms with myself, Guardian.” He coyly jabbed a claw in the specter’s direction. Ariel had pressed her lips thin & shook her head as if to indicate that she wouldn’t dream of it. He carried on after satisfied with her sincerity.

“While we were all blindly loyal to the Empire Dumah was one of the most unwavering. Perhaps it only seemed that way because he was certainly the loudest about it. Literally & figuratively. It seemed like every time I turned around there were exponentially more Dumahim in my court & I just had to accept it. Encountering rogue feral Dumahim upon my return was an immediate indicator to me that nothing could have gone well…” In attempt to power through his own rumination this time he quickly added, “Turel was the most staunchly loyal, however. It seemed at times less to the Empire as a whole & more to Kain directly.”

“Kain is exactly the sort to share only what he wants others to know & not a word more. As long as what he asked was done he couldn’t give a single damn as to how it was accomplished. Turel…was similar to Kain in many regards. Imposing, ruthless, powerful… therefore he felt he knew what Kain wanted better than the rest of us. I liked to think we balanced each other out as leaders. I get the distinct feeling Turel felt otherwise. That is all conjecture, of course, as Turel didn’t engage with us unless he needed to. I could scarcely tell you a damn thing about him personally & that’s not for lack of trying. It was like trying to relate to a stoic mountain itself that just also happened to be able to crush your skull in one hand.”

Raziel paused & squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, if you could call it that. He had to shut out the nagging possibilities surrounding the incited genocide of the Razielim. He could discuss & even trivialize most of his trauma but that was the one thing he couldn’t bring himself to unpack. Not now. 

“Turel was brilliant & unrelenting but probably hated us all. He was still my brother & I loved him anyway, which may have only further irritated him. Aloof as he was NO ONE deserved what happened to him. God help whosoever was directly responsible for keeping him in a pit like an animal because I have some words for them.”