#ok now that you know stop thinking about how disturbing those implications are

[sourkitsch]

Wait did I ever tell you guys that until I was like 13 I legitimately believed my father could read my mind.

[mimiatmidnight]

I posted 865 times in 2022

That's 576 more posts than 2021!

338 posts created (39%)

527 posts reblogged (61%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@jechristine

@harryandmeghansussex

@mmarkle

@theiconicmeghanmarkle

@gallarie

I tagged 624 of my posts in 2022

Only 28% of my posts had no tags

#✨️.zip - 101 posts

#fashun - 89 posts

#taylor - 35 posts

#meghan markle - 33 posts

#🎃.spk - 27 posts

#met gala - 19 posts

#interiors - 15 posts

#oscars - 13 posts

#prince harry - 11 posts

#cannes - 11 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#just kidding i will be using their hydrating cleanser until i die 🥰 i love you la roche posay 🥰 i never spoke ill of you la roche posay🥰

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

She looked stunning and fresh in this gown 😭😍 so pretty!

Fresh is totally the right word. She looks like she rose straight from the natal seas of Aphrodite herself. Christopher John Rogers's design is PHENOMENAL

See the full post

73 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

#4

Your post about Kim's failure to wear that dress reminds me of the usual convo around perfection and how looking flawlessly perfect is boring. But even then that dress was iconic because of Marilyn, Kim looked like a fashion nova sponsored influencer from ugly tacky heels to horrible hair color and style. Idc that idiots want to act dumb to defend rich people doing whatever they want but preserving fashion *is* important and spoiled brats shouldn't risk ruining pieces because they want attention

Yes, I very briefly touched on those topics in my original tags. I didn't expect that post to get quite as much reach as it's getting right now, but if I had, I would have explored those ideas more fully within the post itself. Regardless, you are so right that there is so much more to making a look work than just the dress itself. They had NOTHING interesting going on in her makeup, and just as boring was the same old tired slicked back bun (and am I correct in understanding she was not blonde before this event? Meaning this was her lackluster attempt at some sort of homage to Marilyn? Jesus.) I believe the statement they believed they would be making is that it's all about Kim's silhouette. Let her curves do the talking, and what not. Nevermind that we've been staring at that same silhouette, willingly or unwillingly, for well over a decade at this point, and it's been copied in several hundreds of other celebrities and influencers alike. She needed . . . so much more. I took her shoe choice as a personal insult, I must say. Absolutely atrocious. Also, I suppose this can't be helped, but the color of the dress was also totally wrong against Kim's skin tone (well, it can be helped by leaving the dress to only be worn by the woman for whom it was specifically created).

And most insulting of all, of course, are the greater implications of the stunt. This self-declaration that she is the Marilyn Monroe of our time. Because all Kim understands Marilyn as is that she was a sex symbol. And so she thinks she's naturally got that covered. As if Marilyn herself was not deeply disturbed by the reduction of her personhood to the mere appearance of her body. It's a sickening dishonor to her memory. I don't know this woman or her family personally, but my impression of them is that they are a deeply uncurious people. That video of Kourtney being asked about her outfit and what the gala's theme means to her, and her replying "I honestly didn't really think about it." Like 😐 Ok thank you for being honest I guess, now please never come back here again. And of course, how this whole thing has displayed the utter lack of respect for the sanctity of historical artifacts and the appalling entitlement to our culture's shared heirlooms. The whole thing is just so . . . upsetting.

81 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#3

I would like everyone to know that this tweet was how I found out the news.

96 notes - Posted September 8, 2022

#2

Class reductionism is so funny because it will bring you a socialist saying full-heartedly, "Stop defending that Black woman from racism. Don't you know there are people who are underpaid!!" Like I'm dead this woman actually said, "Guys this is Not A Good Look™ 😕"

Grace, my comrade . . . people have the ability to care about two things at once. And no, economic violence against poor white women is not any more important than racist violence against wealthy Black women.

Disrespectfully, shut the fuck up <3

112 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

It's so true like they really just don't compare, but I can't really explain to myself why? Like the dress just looks so uninteresting on kim, but it was so different in the original on MM

Besides all the complex intertwining external factors we've been discussing, purely on an aesthetic level, I think the difference you're feeling is the effect of shapewear. Part of the Kardashians' whole brand is pushing the limits reality to achieve their definition of (or really, the illusion of their definition of) perfection. I think of Khloe's infamous breakdown a little while ago when a candid photo leaked of her looking human in a bathing suit. She was thrown into an actual panic. It was honestly devastating to watch. And here, with Kim's look, she has her body so smoothed and corseted and shapewear-ed into an image of some alien figure that just looks . . . like nothing. I look at her and I feel absolutely nothing.

The magic of Marilyn's look was that she was not trying to hide ANYTHING. You could practically see her entire body beneath the dress. She was showing off every single dip and sag and roll and dimple. You look at her and for a split second you think she's standing in front of you completely naked, until you look again and you notice she's actually covered in crystals. Like . . . that is so iconic I can't even fully verbalize it. She is unapologetically imperfect and you cannot take your eyes off of her. Like I talked about before, everything Marilyn wore was about how she looked in it, never how it looked on her. And that is something you simply cannot replicate.

233 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[zuko-always-lies]

i think they were going for iroh finally deciding to stop being subservient to the fire nation in the siege of the north, when zhao tries to, yknow, kill the moon, and then him finally deciding to actively fight against the fire nation when he broke out of prison, thinking zuko "lost his way" in book 3. then him retaking ba sing se was supposed to be his ultimate redeeming moment. however, this doesn't work well if this was what they were going for, because of course doing "one good thing" doesn't automatically redeem him, especially when he doesn't decide to do anything after the war other than profit from the people he once tried to conquer via his tea shop. it could also support him not having compassion for those he doesn't see, as i believe ultranos made a post about how his violent retaking of ba sing se could affect the people more directly and negatively than azula's coup did. thoughts?

So I don't see Iroh's actions in "The Siege of the North" being anything other than trying to stop Zhao from screwing absolutely everyone in the world over. Iroh has not decided to take a general stand against the Fire Nation there. Definitely, afterwards he goes back to hanging out and engaging in hedonism at a Fire Nation resort, and he only becomes a fugitive because of Ozai's orders. Even then, Iroh's reaction is to try to run and hide and live a life as a teashop owner rather than draw on his considerable resources to fight back. This decision to hide persists for the rest of Book 2.

When Azula begins her conquest of Ba Sing Se, Iroh seems to come to some sort of decision that he has to fight back against the Fire Nation, something he sticks to the rest of the series. Honestly, him helping Aang and Katara escape in "The Crossroads of Destiny" is his finest moment in the series.

Yet after that he regresses. He tries to point Zuko in the right direction, but implicit in what he tells Zuko is that Zuko should be the one to teach firebending to Aang and be the one to lead the Fire Nation into a new era, even though Iroh would be better suited for both these tasks. And it only gets worse from here.

You see, Iroh's big contribution toward "saving the world" is gathering the White Lotus to retake Ba Sing Se. On a surface level, that's a very reasonable objective(although the invention of airships probably greatly decreases Ba Sing Se's defensive value). But then Zuko and the Gaang show up, inform him of Ozai's plans, and beg for Iroh's help. At that point, there are several extremely critical military objectives which much be accomplished(in order of importance):

1. Stopping the Fire Nation airship fleet from killing millions of people

2. Defeating the Firelord

3. Defeating Azula and carrying out a coup in the Fire Nation.

All these objectives need to be accomplished in order to win the war. Failing to accomplish any one of them would result in pyrrhic victory at best. All of these objectives all more important than taking Ba Sing Se, and taking Ba Sing Se is pointless if you win the war through accomplishing all three. Iroh has access to five of the most powerful fighters in the world, so he has ample strength to throw behind any of these.

Yet he chooses to prioritize the conquest of Ba Sing Se beyond all reason. He lets Aang face Ozai alone, something which nearly results in Aang's death. He lets Sokka, Suki, and Toph take responsibility for stopping the airship fleet, even though only one of them is a bender, even though they could easily have failed, and Sokka and Toph nearly die as a result. Most importantly, Iroh sends Zuko and Katara into the lion's den alone, something which almost certainly would have resulted in Zuko and Katara being killed or captured by Azula, the imperial firebenders, and the Dai Li if Azula hadn't had her breakdown(and even breakdown Azula comes very close to defeating both of them). Why does Iroh act like?

Iroh: Sozin's Comet is arriving and our destinies are upon us. Aang will face the Fire Lord. (Cut to a close up of Iroh) When I was a boy, I had a vision that I would one day take Ba Sing Se. (Camera pans across the various members of the Gaang) Only now do I see that my destiny is to take it back from the Fire Nation so the Earth Kingdom can be free again.

...

Iroh: Goodbye, everyone. (Cut to a frontal shot of Iroh looking up at his nephew) Today, (he closes his eyes and lowers his head) destiny is our friend. (he opens his eyes and looks back up again) I know it.

It looks suspiciously like the "liberation" of Ba Sing Se is an ego trip primarily done to "fulfill" Iroh's "Destiny." Taking Ba Sing Se also allows Iroh and the White Lotus to ensure that King Kuai is restored to power, because I can't imagine anyone in the Earth Kingdom and Ba Sing Se actually wanting him back unless he was forcibly imposed from above.

Now, we turn to the question of damage to Ba Sing Se. This raises the question of why the White Lotus attacked Ba Sing Se during Sozin's Comet? The Fire Nation troops they are fighting are strongest then, and the uncontrolled and power-boasted firebending they wielded likely resulted in a lot of collateral damage. Well, I would say that we also get an explanation for that:

Iroh: Only once every hundred years can a firebender experience this kind of power.

So it's another part of Iroh's ego trip, allowing him to experience the exhilaration of fighting while Sozin's Comet boasts his power and allowing him to take the majority of the credit(and if you wonder why the other members of the White Lotus are OK with this, remember that three of the five known members are deeply questionable in their own ways).

Ultimately, the White Lotus's pointless "liberation" of Ba Sing Se likely resulted in widespread destruction in the city. "Dragon of the West" Iroh joked about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground; "redeemed" Iroh's ego trip to "liberate" the city during Sozin's Comet probably resulted in large portions of Ba Sing Se burning to the ground.

So, I don't think Iroh's "one good act" was actually that good an act. This was not the intention of the writers, but the way they wrote Iroh behaving contains so many disturbing implications, and this is probably true in "Sozin's Comet" more than anywhere else.

Edit: I didn’t make this clear, but I’m sure Iroh rationalized his actions as being the “right thing to do” and the “the only possible course of action.” He’s very good a rationalizing his failures and flaws.

Fun fact: Friedrich Paulus actually ended up defecting to the Allied cause after being captured at Stalingrad. In terms of German World War II generals, he seems to have his hands relatively clean and as far as I know was never accused of war crimes. Yet I don't see taking over managing a tea shop in the city he destroyed after the war.

[littlespoonevan]

i’ll be home but i don’t know when

askjdlfh ok i’ve read too many speculation fics this past week and now you’ve all got me speculating and i need to stop bc i’m gonna get my hopes up too much lmao but anyway in the meantime here’s this bc i couldn’t help myself 

4x13/14 speculation-ish, 1.6k

title: first week - vera blue

*

Buck sits in the waiting room, hands clasped between his knees, jiggling his foot as he stares at nothing. He’s lost track of how long he’s been here but it’s been long enough for the room to fill and empty at least three times, long enough that one of the nurses had offered to get him a cup of coffee from the cafeteria, long enough that he can’t feel the blood dried under his fingernails anymore.

“Buck!”

His gaze snaps up to the doorway and something inside him crumples at the sight of Christopher pulling himself into the room on his crutches. Carla is standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder but Buck hardly spares her a glance before he’s bolting out of his seat and crouching down in front of Christopher.

“Is my dad o-okay?” he asks, a tremor beneath his voice that makes his lip wobble and makes Buck want to bundle him up in his arms and never let him go.

“Hey, listen,” Buck says soothingly, hands flitting across Christopher’s shoulders before reaching up to cup his cheeks. “Your dad got hurt today but he’s in surgery right now and the doctors are gonna tell me when he’s finished.” He searches Christopher’s expression, tries to figure out the best thing to say to make it better. He knows nothing can though, not really, so he settles on, “You wanna wait with me?”

Christopher’s breath hitches and his eyes fill with tears and it’s all Buck can do to pull him into his arms – if only so Chris won’t see the tears Buck has been steadfastly trying to hold back ever since he got here.

He picks Christopher up, meeting Carla’s pitying gaze over his shoulder as she carefully slips the crutches off Christopher’s arms.

“I called Isabel and Pepa,” he tells her. “Told them I’d let them know when we hear anything; there’s no point in them coming down until then.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to keep him a while longer?”

Christopher picks his head up off Buck’s shoulder at that, arms clinging tighter around Buck’s neck. “I wanna stay with Buck. I wanna wait for dad.”

“It’s okay,” Buck murmurs, rubbing over his back and giving Carla a tired smile. “I’m sure. I’ll call if I need you though.”

She squeezes his arm, before passing him the crutches and pressing a careful hand to Christopher’s back. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart,” she says quietly. “Call me when you know something,” she adds to Buck and he nods.

When she’s gone he carries Christopher over to his chair. He considers putting Chris down in the seat beside him before deciding he probably needs the comfort as much as Buck does. So he sits down and keeps Christopher in his lap, rearranging him so he can sit more comfortably with his cheek pressed against Buck’s chest. Buck runs a hand through his hair, kisses his forehead, and tries to stop thinking about one of the last things Eddie had said to him.

“Take- Buck, take care of Christopher, okay? I don’t- he’ll want to stay with you-“

“Eddie, stop. He’s not- you’re not- you’re gonna be fine, okay? So stop- stop making plans. Just hold on, alright?”

Buck shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a steadying breath. Fuck, he can’t lose him. He can’t- they’re only just- he can’t do this without Eddie. Work, life, whatever. He needs him here.

“Buck,” Christopher says quietly, fingers playing with one of the strings on Buck’s hoodie.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Can we play I Spy?”

Buck’s breath catches and he presses his face into Christopher’s hair, allows himself the briefest moment to crack, before he nods. “Yeah,” he says, voice raw with unshed tears. “Yeah. You go first.”

*

The rest of the team arrive in stages. First Bobby, sitting in the chair right next to Buck’s and rubbing his back while Buck tries in vain to rock Christopher to sleep. Then Hen with coffees and a juice for Chris. Then Chim with the promise that he and Maddie can switch off taking care of Jee-Yun is Buck wants her instead. That very nearly does Buck in but he manages to stifle back the sob at the last minute.

Together, they wait but even the low hum of their conversations isn’t enough to drown out the sound of gunshots rattling around in Buck’s brain.

It should’ve been him.

As soon as they’d heard the shots Eddie had pushed him towards the other firefighter from the 133 and he’d pulled Buck behind the fire truck. Eddie hadn’t had a chance to get to safety.

It should’ve been Buck.

He’s not the one with a kid, the one with so much to come back for. It’s not fair.

“Evan Buckley?”

His head shoots up and he locates the doctor standing in the doorway. Christopher is dozing in his arms by now but he manages to stand without jostling him too much. “That’s me.”

The rest of the team stand with him, a silent bubble of support, as the doctor looks between him and the chart in his hand.

“You’re Eddie Diaz’s emergency contact,” he says and Buck nods, absently aware of the way Hen and Chim’s heads jerk to him in surprise.

“He’s out of surgery,” the doctor continues. “We were able to remove the bullet; it thankfully didn’t hit anything vital. He lost a lot of blood but we’ve given him a transfusion. They’re bringing him down to his room now; I can take you to see him when he’s settled.”

Buck feels himself deflate, is convinced he’d collapse if he wasn’t still holding Christopher, if Bobby didn’t immediately grip his shoulder. “Th-thank you,” he stammers out, breath rushing out of him all at once.

The doctor leaves and Buck blinks tears out his eyes as he ducks to whisper in Christopher’s ear. “Chris, hey, Did you hear that? Your dad’s okay.”

*

An hour later Buck finds himself in Eddie’s room, staring at him in the bed like if he looks away for too long he’ll disappear. Christopher is standing in front of him, holding Eddie’s hand, and Buck wonders if he should take him out of the room, if this might be too upsetting for him but then Chris says, “Can I get on the bed with him?” and Buck knows there’s nothing in the world that could make Christopher leave.

He also knows he should probably say no but honestly, if Buck didn’t still have one last shred of self-restraint he’s pretty sure he’d be the one climbing onto the bed with Eddie, hand on his chest to feel him breathing. So he picks Chris up under his arms and carefully lifts him onto the mattress, making sure he doesn’t disturb any of the wires.

“Careful not to move anything, buddy,” he says but Christopher only shifts enough to lie down, curling into Eddie’s side and letting his head rest on Eddie’s bicep. Buck feels a fresh wave of tears come at the sight but he doesn’t feel so bad about it now that Christopher isn’t looking at him anymore. He scoots his chair closer, picking up the hand Christopher had been holding earlier and linking his fingers with Eddie’s.

His grip is completely slack, completely unlike earlier when he’d squeezed Buck’s hand so tight right before he’d lost consciousness. Buck tries not to think about it.

He sits there long enough for Christopher to fall asleep again, long enough for him to forget the rest of the world is still moving outside the room, until eventually the hand in his twitches.

He blinks, looking down before he flits his gaze to Eddie’s face. He watches with bated breath as Eddie slowly comes to, eyelids flickering before finally opening properly. Eddie notices Christopher first and Buck swallows around the lump in his throat at the way Eddie’s entire being softens at the sight of his son, the way he closes his eyes again briefly like he’s memorising the feeling. When he opens his eyes the second time they find Buck and that’s as much as Buck can take before the emotion he’s been holding back for the last few hours comes flooding to the surface.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice thick as too many tears escape at once.

Eddie takes a breath and wets his lips, fingers twitching against Buck’s again. “Hi.” His voice is hoarse and gravelly but it’s Eddie’s voice and he’s okay and Buck can finally breathe again.

“I missed you.” And it sounds stupid but it’s true. Eddie’s eyes close once more and there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Can’t get rid of me that easy,” he mumbles, returning his gaze to Buck and he just- he looks so open, so unguarded in a way that Buck only rarely gets to see in their quietest moments.

He picks Eddie’s hand up, holding it between his own as he props his elbows on the mattress behind Christopher. He presses his lips to Eddie’s knuckles, doesn’t think about the implications other than needing him closer, other than needing to comfort him. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Thanks for not letting me go.”

Buck thinks of the moments before his hospital. Of his hand pressing against Eddie’s stomach to keep pressure on the wound, of his other hand touching Eddie’s face trying to keep him awake, of pulling him into his arms in those terrifying few seconds between Eddie losing consciousness and the ambulance arriving. Of holding his hand right down to the very last minute when they stepped into the hospital and Eddie had to be wheeled away.

And now, at his hand in Buck’s again, right where it’s supposed to be.

There’s more to say about it, more they could confess right now, but there’s time. They have time.

So Buck only nods, lacing his fingers more firmly with Eddie’s and offering him a smile he hopes says everything.

Eddie smiles back and it’s enough for now.

*

[liria10]

Favorite Benny books?

Ok so. Tumblr crashed as I was typing this on mobile. I am retyping it on desktop cause fuck this site, and I Have Opinions, and my friend I will let you hear them or so help me!

.... This got. Really. Really long. I am adding a read more to spare you guys from that.

Ok so! As a preface, I haven't read many VNAs with Benny in it, and of her solo books, I still have 2 of her Legion books to read.

I'm going to (re)start this with the VNAs!

Love and War: a very classic answer perhaps, but it is a really good introduction for Benny, even if the book has its flaws and can certainly show its age nowadays. Cornell absolutely nails her right off the bat, and from her very first page, Benny is just a character that keeps you interested. Not only does she work great as a counter to both Seven and Ace, but she also brings a breath of life to the whole range the way only a prose character can.

Plus, I think one of the greatest successes of that book lies in how Benny appears as a rounded and flawed person from the beginning. She’s not your ordinary girl dragged to a whirlwind of adventure and an universe of wonders, but an older, adult woman, with a good chunk of life experience and adventures already behind her, and while setting foot inside the TARDIS opens up a new and unexpected chapter in her life, it does also remain just that. A chapter. Benny had a life before the Doctor, and from that moment, while noone could have predicted it then, she would have one after him as well.

The Left-Handed Hummingbird: I just finished that one last week, so it’s obviously both fresh in my mind, and one I'm thinking highly of at the moment. Well I mean, it’s Orman! Or course I love it. She really is great at writing both intricate, large stories, and yet focusing on the personal, on the human side of things. And I find that this book does a great job at putting benny in the role of the grounding presence both for ace and the doctor, as well as exploring how time traveling as they do, and dealing with seven’s schemes can be frustrating for benny. That whole tardis team is a mess, and none of these people really… work well together, but it’s because they’re so dysfunctioning that they’re fascinating, and orman absolutely nails that.

Theater of War: A very different type of book, it is honestly a fun romp, and it has Benny being an actual archeologist, down to dealing with the academia side of things. And it’s the little things, but I love it when Benny books remember that about her tbh? Also, it has some nice theater theming, and well, as an introduction for brax, it certainly works well! It’s one of those VNAs that I think is just fun. A well crafted story with good takes on the characters, that’s always enjoyable to me!

Return of the Living Dad: Orman again?? What a surprise! But frankly, I love how this book is all about Benny and her daddy issues, be it with the Doctor or well, her actual dad. Between that, her budding marriage with Jason, and finding out so many old wounds reopened, I just. Really love how raw Benny can be under Orman’s pen? How underneath it all, she still has that side of the scared orphan that lost both parents to a war she was far, far too young to ever comprehend, and how that just left her rebelling against the world in general, and resenting deep down her parents for that abandon. I mean, it’s neat character stuff, but it can very easily be written as dull & cliche shitte you know? And Orman really… always get down to the heart of it all, and boi does it make for some great reading.

The Dying Days: It’s a very fun book, and well, technically works as the first round for Benny as the lead woman after all! It’s a joy all throughout, triumphant where it needs to be, and managing to both celebrate the Doctor and what he brought to the VNAs, as well as setting up the stage for Benny to go on to her own range. It’s basically one last run of the old team, and well. I do love Benny & Eight, and yes I am blaming Parkin for it. Also, big brained take to have Eight give her Wolsey because I love that cat and Benny deserves a cute kitty in her life. We all do.

Ok!! Now on to the NA, and my personal favorite era!

Dragon’s Wrath: It’s a fun one!! I do really like the story being centered again on archeology first and foremost, and it’s a good romp that has some really good take on Benny. Especially the trial scenes, I love how those one get down to Benny as someone who despite everything, loves history, and cares very very deeply about the artifacts she uncovers. Also, it introduces brax as a mainstay of the dellah era, and does so in a rather nice way. Overall, a very enjoyable book!

Beyond the Sun: Benny & students stranded on a planet with mystery to uncover, that’s already a fun premise, and then throw in all the various queer themes present, especially with Emile, and the whole scene of them all in drag performing on top of a bus, and it’s just a rather good book. Plus, I love how it mirrors the whole VNA Doctor mantra, except with a very Benny twist. Sometimes cruel, sometimes cowardly, but trying her damndest to do good. And well, that’s just Benny isn’t it? I always harp on about the very heart of Benny being her humanity, and if there’s something that book highlights, it’s that.

Deadfall: Jason takes center stage in this one, and well, I do really love Jason. It’s overall a fun book with some nice lore ideas, and I love how it works Cwej in the whole Dellah setting. Also, at least it’s a story with Jason in the lead that doesn’t end in utter tragedy, and that’s always nice!

Tempest: Ok so. That book isn’t great. The story’s cliche, the characters aren’t the best, and the plot itself? Forgettable, it’s another in the list of “sort of base under siege story in the dellah era” which you’d think wouldn’t be super common and yet! So… why am I listing it here? Cause the concept of the planet!! The idea of a world of storms and disaster, run through via a blind train as the only means of transport? The fantastic animal life described in it??? That book left an impression of me, and that’s not something I can say of all of the others.

The Medusa Effect: … Justin Richard writes a good Benny. Like, legit. I love how that one really works with the setting & history of Dellah, and gives further information on the planet’s involvement with the Dalek war. Plus, it also got some really, really nice aesthetics. I am soft for good aesthetics ok? Benny, dancing with a skeleton on the deck of an old spaceship made to look like a cruise liner in an hallucination/dream sequence type of thing? Sign me right up!

Beige Planet Mars: That one is a blast. I remember just, absolutely loving it when I read it tbh. Between the overall description of Mars, the further Lore Implication of the Mars invasion & all that, as well as it basically being one last round of more… Normal dellah books before everything goes to hell? It’s one i’d highly recommend if you want to have a good time.

Tears of the Oracle: Probably my favorite of that whole range? (apart from dead romance, which I am not counting as a benny book) I love just, how much overall… feelings isn’t quite the words i’m looking for, but i can’t think of a better way to put it… there is throughout the book? It was thought to be the end of the NA as it was written and well, that shows. I love how it weaves the whole mystery of “what happened to that legendary archaeologists?” with the whole side of what’s basically some of the only survivors from dellah going on one last round of discovery. The status quo of the range was destroyed quite a few books before that one, but imo, it’s there that they take the time to stop for a bit, and just. Deals with what that means in actuality. And ngl, I love the entire sequence of Benny & Brax walking through the wreckage of what used to be their home, it’s a scene that works really, really well.

And well, it does a great job at setting up the future as well after all! Yes, there’s still 3 books after it, but when you look at where Big Finish picked up… they went for what Tears of the Oracle was setting up. It really makes the transition flows well between those two, unlike my rambling for a full paragraph before going to “here’s the BF books I like”

The Doomsday Manuscript: A very good start for the range! Not only does it set up the whole collection, but it also introduces the Fifth Axis as a major threat, and does so in a wonderfully well paced book that keeps you hooked throughout. I like how it also sets up Jason’s loss as something Benny is still suffering over, as well as how she hasn’t lost hope in finding him again. Plus frankly, it’s also a really good story.

The Glass Prison: You’d think that for a book where Benny spends the majority of it in prison and not very active due to being near the end of her pregnancy, not much would happen, but the way Jacqueline Rayner builds up an atmosphere of unease, mistrust and a genuine disturbing ambiance throughout the book is just, fantastic.

Genius Loci: This book. This book!!! Ben Aaronovitch writes an absolutely powerful story of Benny as a young woman, lost and finding herself faced with far more responsibility than she ever thought possible. The way he writes the whole mystery, while also making Benny as a 20yo not only believable, but quite distinct from Benny as the adult we’ve all come to know and love is just. So good. My main grip with this book is how abruptly it ends, and how we’ll never get the sequel. I want to read Terra Incognita and more of Benny slowly finding herself damn it!

Dead Men Diaries: Just like Doomsday Manuscript, does a great job at establishing the collection as well as the recurring cast. I really enjoy most of the stories in it, and I think BF started out so strong on those books srsly!

A Life in Pieces: I love it so much. It’s pure brax at his most manipulative, and for such petty reasons. I really like how it both deals with the aftermath of the Fifth Axis occupation, as well as the repercussions Brax’s schemes have for the people living on the collection. Also, it’s just 3 very good novellas in a row that build up to something more, and I always like seeing that.

Nobody’s Children: That book has the best Draconian story in the entirety of doctor who and related. Like, yeah just that. It’s also nice to see the fallout of the Mim/Draconian war. It’s one I didn’t expect a lot out of, and frankly, I ended up really loving it.

The Vampire Curse: The middle novella is one I absolutely hated, but the other two are really good, and mixing benny and vampires is just, very fun. Also!! Predating the Predator is in it, and it is a really good take on vampires in a science fiction setting that also has some nice creep factor as well, and manages to be both a good vampire story, and a good sci fi story, which isn’t always an easy balance to find.

Life During Wartime: It’s a surprisingly hard hitting anthology about living under a fascist regime, and the compromises you have to make, the personal sacrifices and small rebellions. Honestly, there’s a lot I love about it, but certainly one of my favorite moment, is when Benny, having to dine with one of the officers, miss jones & jason, sees that the officer is nearly on to her hiding peter away, and that split second moment of “if I have to, I am willing to kill everyone in this room to protect my son” before he just laughs it off, it’s a lot of tiny moments that build up to a really well done ambiance tbh.

Something Changed: While it did the terrible, terrible sin of introducing Doggles to the world, I really love the concept of every chapter after the first being a different split universe, and how they’re all spiraling more & more out of control. It’s got some really good stories in between too, though they can also be rather hit & miss. An aspect I love about it too is how impactful Wolsey’s death ends up being.

Present Danger: That one is fun, I love how it’s basically everyone vs the deindum, a situation slipping more and more out of control, mixed with some neat stuff one the deindum’s whole temporal deal. It’s again a bit hit & miss, but it’s still a blast, and as the last anthology of the collection era, it does send it all off with a bang.

Welp. Far, far too many words later, and here we are!!! I love Benny a lot ngl, and I genuinely think that prose is the medium best suited for her. I have been rather disappointed with the more modern books, I find them far more bland than what I personally expect from Benny but ah well. Can’t always get everything.

And while it’s neither a book, nor even an official story in any mean, the fanfic “Sepelio” that’s an Hannibal au set in the Dellah era is great, and the benny story I have been enjoying the most lately. I would be remiss not to at least mention it!

[yan-twst]

CYOA - Twisted Wonderland

aaand here it is, finally! Chapter one of my choose your own adventure fic for twst! This is the very first chapter; it’s a bit of a slow start, establishing the plot and all, you know? As was decided by the poll, the reader is in Diasomnia (however, I’m sure y’all can probably figure out a way to worm out of the dorm quickly and meet more characters). Anyways, without further ado, here’s the fic!

You sometimes wished that your dorm wasn’t so… Gloomy. Sure, Diasomnia had some cool things; the whole “Valley of Thorns Castle” aesthetic was cool, and the fact the hallways were lit with green torches always looked cool at night, not to mention the TVs and games in the common room, but… As you tried to study for the upcoming quiz, you quietly cursed the controlled climate. Yes, you knew that rain and storms were natural in the area; but didn’t the school control the dorm’s climate with fae magic?! It was way too difficult to concentrate on your potions notes when the rain outside felt like it was lulling you to sleep as it fell against your windows.

Your roommate was snoozing in his bed- either he’d already studied, or he’d given up on the quiz. Either way, you couldn’t deny that it was alluring to just forget the damn thing and go to bed. It wasn’t that late, but you’d been going to sleep at awful hours lately, and your body sorely demanded you get some sleep. And yet, glancing down at the recipe for the minor memory erasing draught you’d have to concoct tomorrow, you knew that if you went to sleep now, you’d be dealing with Crewel’s biting critique and a terrible grade tomorrow.

A snore from your roommate broke your concentration, and you glared at the sleeping boy. Usually you and him got along just fine, but in this moment, it felt like he was testing you, as he slept sweetly and your sleep deprived self stressed over a notebook. Hearing another snore, you decided to move to the common room- maybe there you’d concentrate a bit better, and also not be tempted by the siren’s call of your bed. Picking up your phone and your notebook, you left the room, closing the door softly so as to not disturb your roommate, and made your way down the eerie halls of the dorm.

“Vice dorm leader…?” immediately, you noticed that Lilia was in the common room. After that your nose registered a smell so odd it almost made you turn around and leave. It wasn’t a bad smell, just… Incredibly odd and off putting: and you quickly pinpointed the source of it to be some charred, blackened and bizarre dish that your vice dorm leader was holding. 

“Oh? Hello there.” he said with a chuckle. You wouldn’t call Lilia a close friend by any means, but you did know him well. As a vice dorm leader, he did his best to help out the Diasomnia students, and he was also fond of pulling small pranks here and there; you’d been a victim of his tricks and also gone to him for help a couple times in your two years of being at NRC. “It’s an odd hour to be hanging out… Or could it be the smell of my cooking that brought you here?”

“Your… cooking?” so that charred thing he was holding was… food? You’d been warned- mostly by your fellow second year Silver- that Lilia was not a good cook (in fact, Silver had made it seem like his food was somehow a health hazard), but you’d imagined the usual cooking oopsies. Too much salt, not enough seasoning, maybe burning some of the food; the usual mistakes people made when cooking. However, looking at the blackened and mysterious substance in the plate he held… You wondered if perhaps Silver had been right in making Lilia’s cooking sound like some sort of biohazard.

“Indeed, I’ve been cooking some cookies. I wanted to cheer Silver, since he’s been studying hard for a quiz. And there’s nothing quite like some cookies to snack on while studying, right?” said Lilia. Cookies…? You walked closer and squinted at the plate; so those were Lilia’s cookies…? You were pretty sure you could see eggshell shards on the otherwise charcoal black pieces of what you hoped was dough. Did he… Did he not see the problem with them?

“Oh, the potions quiz for tomorrow? Yeah, I’m sure he’s been studying… I doubt Crewel is going to go easy on us.” You said with a nervous laughter, trying to divert the topic from the so-called cookies. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask you to taste test or something. A bite of those cookies would probably take you out of commission for a good week or two, and while being sick to miss class tomorrow and avoid the quiz was tempting, you really weren’t sure if it was worth it to risk some crazy horrible food poisoning for that. 

“Fufu, you’re also working quite hard, I gather? Did you come to study here?” asked Lilia, pointing to your notebook. You nodded. 

“Mhm, my roommate was being a bit loud, so…” you shrugged with a smile. You weren’t gonna throw your roommate under the bus and tell Lilia he was snoring like a train and that drove you out of the room, you were at least kind enough to omit that particular piece of info. “Well, I’m probably just going to look over the notes a bit and then go to sleep. I can only study so much to make a potion without actually being at the lab, after all.”

“Ah, Silver did mention that Crewel was making you all make a draught from memory.” Lilia hummed. “Are you having trouble with this? I can always try to help, after delivering these delicious cookies to Silver.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly bother you with this, it’s ok, vice dorm leader!” you said, quickly shaking your head. You didn’t want to waste Lilia’s time; he was a third year, after all… If your work was hard as a second year, he was probably drowning in schoolwork and studying, right? Not to mention you kind of felt like you should show more respect to him: he was an ancient fae and you were pretty sure he was a war veteran despite being in high school. 

“Oh, please call me Lilia. We’ve known each other for too long for you to be using titles, (name). I still remember the day the magic mirror sorted you into Diasomnia, right after my dear Silver was sorted.” he said with a smile, his pointy fangs catching your eye. “You’re close friends with Silver, aren’t you? I’m quite grateful you spend time with him, he’s a good boy.”

“Oh, um, well… Then I’ll call you Lilia, if that’s really ok…” you said, a bit bashful. You didn’t miss how he talked about Silver; you knew that the 2nd year did constantly refer to Lilia as ‘old man’, but you’d brushed it off to perhaps him being close enough to Lilia to use that as a nickname, but… The way Lilia spoke, it almost sounded like a father being happy his son had found a friend. “Yes, me and Silver are close. We’re in the same class, I usually give him my notes when he falls asleep in the middle of lectures. He also helps me study, sometimes.”

“Oh, you do? I must thank you, then. It’s quite kind of you.” Lilia said with a smile. “Oh! How rude of me, I haven’t offered you a cookie, have I? They’re freshly baked, you should try them. It’s the same recipe I made for Silver when he was younger.”

“Er-!” you paled. Crap, this was what you’d been fearing. The stress of the request made you not even stop to think about the odd wording of ‘making cookies for Silver ever since he was younger’ or the implication Lilia had somehow raised Silver; your brain was blaring alarms telling you to NOT put those… Things anywhere close to your face. But at the same time, Lilia was smiling so happily as he picked one of the charred objects and stuck it out in your direction.

“Lilia. You shouldn’t be giving that to humans.” a deep voice made you freeze before you accepted the cookie with a reluctant hand. You quickly turned around to spot the dorm leader entering the common room, arms crossed as he stared at Lilia. “You’re going to kill them if you make them eat that.”

“Oh, come on Malleus, don’t say that! My cookies are delicious.” Lilia sighed, taking back his baked treat and taking a bite for himself. You internally cringed at the noise of what you now absolutely knew to be chunks of eggshell and god knows what else in the object. “Don’t you see you’ll give (name) a bad impression of my cooking if you say that?”

“... It’s my duty to protect my dorm members.” said Malleus, walking closer to you and warily eyeing Lilia’s cooking. You held back a sigh of relief- yup, he’d definitely saved you. If even Malleus Draconia was scared of Lilia’s hellish cookies, you probably would have keeled over and died if you’d put that in your mouth. “Besides, it’s late. Why were you baking?”

“I was making a treat for Silver, since he was studying. This little one just happened to walk in when the cookies were ready- they’re studying for the same quiz Silver is cramming for.” said Lilia, gesturing to you. “It seems Crewel is having his fun in stressing out the first years, fufu. What potion is he making you all make?”

“Oh, um, it’s… A minor memory loss draught. It’s got a lot of steps and ingredients, and it’s way too easy to mess up, so…” you said, a bit nervous. You felt… A little bit silly now, for stressing so much over it. Right now, you were surrounded by one of the strongest mages in the world- who was also the prince of the dark fae- and an ancient and wise fae who had probably fought in great wars and aided the Valley of Thorns royalty. To them, making a weak potion was probably as easy as blinking. 

“A memory loss draught… That does indeed have many steps to its preparation, if I’m not remembering wrong.” said Malleus. His words made you relax a little- you’d half been expecting some comment like a minor memory loss draught? That’s child’s play, why are you stressing out? or something. Your dorm leader was known to be a bit haughty at times. “You look exhausted. I assume you’ve been studying a lot?”

“Wait, I look tired…? Crap, is it showing in my face?” you said, cursing internally. You had a few friends in Pomefiore and you just knew they’d be fretting over you if your eyebags and exhaustion were so evident your dorm leader, who was not too good at picking up clues, could notice.

“I’m afraid so, my dear. You look like you’re ready to drop any second now- I know you’ve got a lot of work, but perhaps you’re pushing yourself too hard.” said Lilia. You grimaced; great, now you’d somehow managed to worry the two of them. It felt… Wrong to have two powerful and important beings even express concern over your wellbeing: you were just… Some puny human who got sorted into Diasomnia, you weren’t even particularly close to either of them. Hell, you’d only spoken to Malleus a couple of times before, for fuck’s sake.

“Hmm, Malleus, could it be that you still remember how to make that potion?” said Lilia, tilting his head. The taller fae nodded, making Lilia hum in understanding. “I see, I see. Well, (name), I’m sure you’d get an amazing grade if you were to study with Malleus. He’s quite good in potionmaking when he concentrates, I promise you. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt at all for him to get closer to his own dorm members now, would it?”

“That’s-!” you visibly stiffened, looking at Malleus. Sure, you weren’t as scared of him as some of the other students were, but…! You still couldn’t just treat him all willy-nilly like some random kid; he was one of the most powerful mages in the world and crown prince from the Valley of Thorns. The mere idea of dragging him off for a study session that benefitted only you made your gut twist. Although the idea was anxiety inducing, you couldn’t help but notice a spark of… Curiosity? In Malleus’ eyes, almost as if he was entertained by the idea of it all; still, you couldn’t just accept something like that.  “I couldn’t possibly-!”

“... or you could go study with Silver. I was going to go check up on him, so you could come with me.” said Lilia, perhaps sensing your panic. 

--- time to make a choice! vote in the poll linked below to choose how to advance in the story!

poll: https://www.strawpoll.me/20971117

[jadedragoness]

Review: Peace Talks

First Read Through Reaction

Now staring off, knowing that the book was essentially part one of two did mean that I went in expecting that there would be plot lines that wouldn’t be resolved. I did NOT expect that nearly zero of the plot lines would be resolved, at all. Yikes. Now, I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I did. But it felt like there were 50 to 60 pages missing that should have been in the story to at least wrap up minor plot lines before heading into ‘Battle Ground’.

Warning: Full of Spoilers

Such the arrival of the Outsiders those Cornerhounds. Um… Outsiders and at no point that Harry wonder why in the hell they were called to Chicago? Or why they were targeting him and Ebenezer. Seriously, unless the author totally forgot we know that Outsiders can only be called by mortals. So human wizards brought them. So was it someone in the ‘Black Council’ or was it the Formor, since we know from previous stories that they grab humans and mind-whammy them and also modify them. And we know that they’ve been pretty focused on grabbing minor practioners for a couple of years now.

Hell, even just knowing why Thomas attacked the svartalf King would have been good to know in the book even if we don’t find out who it was yet.

That being said lets start of with things I didn’t like.

Thing Which I Wasn’t All that Pleased About:

1. Butters in that threesome relationship.

Now, let me explain, it’s not because its a poly relationship. I don’t even twitch over how Justine and Thomas include others in the sexual part of their relationship. It’s because I kept wondering if Marci was even into dudes. As far as I knew she was only into girls. And now she’s suddenly bi?

What the hell?

I think my reaction has a lot to do with how skewed the sexual orientation gradient in shown among Named characters. You have straight men. Straight women. Bi women who are shown to be blatantly into men and women…and that’s it, now.

No lesbian women with zero interest in men. No bi men. No gay men. No asexual characters. No trans characters. No gender fluid people.

I know that this due to the author’s eye and while it hasn’t irritated me much in the past as we keep getting more and more books with more newly introduced characters the lack is becoming more and more glaring to me. Especially, as I have drifted into reading other series that manage to be way more inclusive about this sort of thing in great and amazing ways *sighs happily over Rivers of London series*. And I don’t just mean in passing with random nameless scenery people that never talk which have popped up in the Dresden Files but with actual characters that have names, dialogue and contribute to the series.

So it really, really annoys me that Marci went from being the only lesbian who is a named character to joining the horde of bi women in the DF verse.

Okay, so its not really a Butters issue to much as a grumble about the spectrum of gender and sexually needing better representation.

*grumbles* Step up your game, Butcher.

I will add that I’m head-canoning that actually the relationship here is Butters with Andi, Andi with Butter and Marci, and Marci with Andi. That pretty much with Butters running around being the new Knight Andi didn’t like how her boyfriend wasn’t paying attention and gave Butters the ultimatum of letting Marci in as Andi’s girlfriend or they broke up.

… yeah, I’m totally liking that spin way, way better.

2. That Marcone took forever to show up! ARGH! I love him ok.

Considering how early he was name dropped in the story the amount of time it took him to show up… Jim Butcher is a damn Marcone-tease. *glares hotly in author’s direction*

3. I don’t like it that Murphy is so hurt. I don’t hate it. I think I’m just uneasy about the future implications.

Having reread the entire series before reading ‘Peace Talks’ I fully expected some lingering injury but not to that level. I’m actually worried about her chances of surviving any upcoming battle, and not just in Battle Ground. There’s even more danger coming down the pipeline in future books and she won’t let herself stay ‘safe’ when she could be watching Harry’s back… so its a worrying problem.

Now if she died I have no doubt that her being recruited to be a Valkerie is an option. But then I remembered how those warrior women go out into the world with ‘clients’ and of the two we’ve seen they’ve been attached to ‘monsters’ aka Lara and Marcone.

Unless, the payment isn’t cash and she can be attached to Harry. *hums in thought*

But then I have to wonder how much Murphy would accept that role. She’s also a pretty devout Catholic as this book reminded us so that is also something that would make her say no to the offer.

4. That the younger Wardens who had so looked up to Harry being so damned suspicious… ow. That hurt. I may have teared up and sniffled into a tissue thinking about it. And then sobbed because so much of it came from Carlos… Carlos! The man went into the Deeps with Harry! Ouch.

5. Rudolph… that roach.

Ugh, I’ve had the disturbing thought that now that magic and the supernatural on the path to being exposed to all of humanity, scared humanity too, that will end up with a resurgence of a new Inquisition and the killing of anything eldritch. And you know that Rudolph would definitely be in it. *shudders in disgust* Creep.

BTW I totally don’t believe that Rudolph answers to Marcone. It doesn’t make sense as to why he was so pushy go get Harry during ‘Changes’. I had thought he was answering to the Red Court but with them being taken out of the picture… now I wonder if he isn’t answerable to the Black Council.

Things I Did Not Expect:

1. Damn… when Ebenezer sent that spell through Harry and ‘killing’ I was so shocked even though I was pretty sure there was a twist coming. Mostly because of what it says about Ebenezer.

Ebenezer actions killed Harry.

Sure it was a fake body that brought no harm to the real Harry. But if Harry hadn’t thought ahead? If he hadn’t used his brain to ask Molly to create a fake? Eb would have killed his own grandson.

Sure it was an accident but it could so easy have resulted in a dead Harry. I was crying so hard I wondered if my eyeballs were loosening in their sockets. Argh.

2. Bonea…. Harry your naming skills are simply weird. I’m so glad that Susan named Maggie.

Although Bonnie is a pretty great nickname.

Thinks I Found Utterly Hilarious

1. The line about the best offense being a T-Rex? Gold. Pure gold.

2. When Harry figured out there are angels in the hilt of the Swords of the Cross and Butter’s immediate reaction of horror because he’d accidentally laundered the hilt, giving it a ride in a washing machine.

OMG! I had the instant image of a miniature angel screaming and growing dizzy when going through the spin cycle.

I know that makes no sense but that’s where my mind went, okay.

3. The conjuritis. Omg, it’s so gross with all the ectoplasm leaking from Harry’s nose but it’s sooooo funny. Also the way he kept getting the ‘aren’t you too old for this’ from Ebenezer and then Lara made me giggle even harder.

Then I thought: dude, it’s like chicken pox, something you got as a kid but if you never had it you get it when exposed later in life. So one of his kids has it. Probably Maggie too.

4. When Sanya pretended to have his hand lopped off. I straightened up and was so worried Sanya had lost a hand. Then when I realized he was pretending to freak out Butters and Harry I admit to laughing way too hard. Got me too.’

Also there’s no way that Sanya was actually defeated there. He’s younger and better trained then Butters, I don’t care how light (Heh) the new sword is. He definitely threw that fight to test his hunch.

5. Murphy’s inability to handle being flirted on with a red-headed warrior woman. Sooooo funny. I mean, Murphy could have said a number of things such as ‘I’m exclusive.’ or ‘I’m not interested in women.’ But she just floundered. Heh heh.

6. I continue to find it completely hilarious that Lara, a couple of centuries old vampire, seems to keep learning a lot of power moves from Marcone.

Such as: having trained fighters that are NOT food, well… mostly. Having those mines installed in the walls. And now hiring a Valkerie of her very own.

I keep thinking, yeah, there’s no way she’d win in a fight against Marcone because there’ s no way that Marcone has let slip all of his tricks.

Things I Really, Really Liked:

1. Marcone. Everything Marcone. *heart-eyes*

And then he proves why he’s so damned scary by standing up to the Titan. Then to the ghouls. Then after proving his bad-ass quotient if off the charts he gets everyone organized to fight.

Yeeessss… It proves to me that when it comes to protecting Chicago he is actually the best person after Harry. Hell, in some ways he’s better than Harry. Now, I’m not saying he’s a white knight or anything like that. Just that he has the intelligence, the ruthlessness, the will, the power and the men to provide the most protection to the city’s mortal denizens. At least when there’s a war raging with multiple enemies who will be attacking at various points.

And oh, I can’t wait to see how he’s going to get revenge for the death of his people. Omg, he’s going to kill the Formor so hard. *goes starry eyed thinking about more Marcone*

But why did he have to appear so late in the book?! *wails in a heart-rending fashion*

There better be a ton more Marcone in the next book! *makes desperate gimme gimme hands*

No, I don’t have a Marcone addiction… I can stop anytime I want to. *sneaks off to mainline some “Even Hand” straight into the brain*

2. The return of Goodman Grey! Oh, I hope he’s around a lot! I’ve really grown to like him.

<b>Things Which Blew My Mind or Were Just Freaking Awesome: </b>

1. Dad!Harry is actually the most amazing Harry. Forget the magic flinging and the fire storms… this is the best Harry.

Just the way he takes care of his kids…. *turns to mush like ectoplasm*

2. Murphy and Harry are finally together! Yay! Yay! Hip hip hooray!

Now, I’m a rather shameless Marcone/Dresden fic writer, but as I never ever expect this to be canon I’m content to write it as fanfic for my own sense of delight. However when it comes to canon I’m full on board with the Karrin and Harry relationship. Be it friendship or romantic, I think its great.

3. Marcone… that is all.

Random Speculation

1. I find myself wondering about Ebenezer’s rage against vampires. And my brain muttered this theory: Maybe Harry’s grandmother was killed by White Court vampires.

Whoa.

It would explain the vitrolic rage.

And if Lara was involved it would also explain her flash of shame.

We don’t know anything about Harry’s grandmother, not even her name. So… that’s a thought.

2. River Shoulders teaching Harry.

Oh man, oh man, I hope Harry learns shape-shifting.

And thinking about it I had to wonder if the animal-shifting had anything to do with knowing the animal in question which of course made me think…

Harry should learn to shape-shift into a T-Rex.

He already knows how one is put together and the mind of one. And he knows that it’s possible to add extra mass to a shift from the Nevernever in the form of ectoplasm… so

Harrysarous Rex, baby…. I may have to write a fic with this premise.

3. Oh, if it’s possible to make a ectoplasmic body can Harry learn to make one for Bonea? After all Maggie would probably really enjoy getting to play with her little sister that way. Even if Harry can’t do it all the time and it wouldn’t last longer than a day. That would be delightful.

4. Okay, not this is more head-canon than speculation but… considering how hard Harry has been made to be analogous to Merlin I can’t help but wonder if Marcone is suppose to be Arthur’s analogue. So wielding Amorrachius *coughs*Excalibur*coughs* would make sense.

…it’s not just my Marcone-love talking dammit.

Speaking of Merlin, I’m convinced that he’s behind this whole ‘starborn’ thing. Seriously, otherwise its way too convenient that a wizard with that power is born every 666 years. It smacks of a spell.

And if that’s the case it also feeds into my pet theory that the whole reason we have Outsides at the Gates is because Merlin was the schmuck who drew them to our reality in the first place. And everything surrounding the war with the Outsiders are his attempts to try to fix what he broke.

*lost in pondering thoughts*

Things I Have Questions About

1. Did Harry forget he has The Ways Map from his mother? I would have thought he would have figured out a way (heh) to get to the island somehow. He was on it for so long I thought for sure he’d spend time exploring it. Also we knew from ‘Skin Game’ that even tiny factors can change where the Way goes in the Nevernever. I doubt the ENTIRE island has Ways that lead to a bad place. Especially for Harry now that he’s the Warden.

2. Also why didn’t Harry get Lea to help him? After all unless she’s moved it since ‘Changes’ her garden is still on the other side of the sub-basement.

3. What did Lara use that first favor from Mab on? *eyes her suspiciously*

4. Where are the Za Lord’s Guard? *wondering about what been happening with Lacuna and Toot-toot*

5. If Harry gets kicked out of the White Council (good riddance, since they haven’t exactly been all that helpful lately) can he get enough signatures to be added as a member of the Accords in his own right? After all being Warden of Demonreach has got to mean a lot to the older members.

Then he wouldn’t be reliant on Mab’s protection.

I can’t help but hope this proves to be the case, especially if in ‘Battle Ground’ Harry ends up taking down that Titan. Because he needs as much protection and influence he can gather if he’s no longer White Council to protect himself, his people and his kids. Especially if he eventually gets rid of that Winter Knight mantle like I hope he does.

6. How in the hell (pardon the pun) did evil demon Sasquatch survive being turned to mush by Hade’s Ice Gate? Or the shades that were part of the security system that almost got Harry?

*frowns* The only reason I can think of would be the coin of Ursiel being the factor. I doubt a Fallen Angel is allowed to stick around in the Greek realm of the afterlife.

7. WHERE IS BOB?! Seriously, if Butters doesn’t give him back...

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy. 

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.  

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion. 

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?” 

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

[ohmyprodigalson]

Okay, so the reader is Malcolm's s/o and shes really emotionally closed off. She doesn't Express her feelings very often (it was a miracle she even revealed her feelings to him.) And he finally asks about it, and it turns out it's from past trauma she never got help for. You decide everything else, just hurt/comfort please!

I cried while I wrote this, and I doubt I can ever read it again without crying. In short, please take the trigger warnings very seriously.

Trigger Warnings: Childhood trauma, child physical and mental abuse, animal cruelty, implications of domestic abuse towards a woman, and gun violence. 

Word Count: 1,626

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Malcolm looked down into the chocolate- brown eyes of the sweet dog beside him. She wagged her tail happily as they walked. He had just adopted her from the local shelter and was taking her home.

He wasn't really a dog person. Malcolm had Sunshine, but he never considered getting a cat or dog. Maybe it was because his mother forbade them in her house? He wasn't sure. But he decided to get this dog for (Y/N), hoping it would make her happy.

When they got home, he let the dog run into the apartment and start exploring. When (Y/N) stepped into Malcolm's line of sight, the dog eagerly jumped up on her with a smile. (Y/N) didn't try to push the dog back on the ground, but instead lifted her arms up into the air so that the dog couldn't touch her. Without looking away from the dog, she asked, "Malcolm, what's going on? Why is there a dog here?"

"Do you like her?" Malcolm smiled hopefully.

"She's nice, but why is she here?"

Malcolm's heart sank a little. His plan wasn't working. "I thought you might like a dog."

(Y/N) recognized that what Malcolm was doing for her was really thoughtful, but she was afraid of getting too close to another dog. She couldn't explain it to him though, so she had to pretend she was ok. However, she wasn't going to do a good job of it.

She gently placed a hand on top of the dog's head, barely a pet. But it was sufficient for the dog, who jumped down and started excitedly exploring the rest of the apartment. (Y/N) looked back at Malcolm and forced a smile. "Thank you.”

Malcolm saw right through it. He didn't understand. She clearly liked dogs, because she always let a smile play at the corner of her lips when she saw one. So what was the problem?

He wanted to talk to her and try to figure it out. He was trying to make her happy because she never seemed happy around him. She rarely had a smile, and he was desperately trying to put one on her face. If a dog wouldn't do it, there must be something deeper going on.

"Hey, can we talk for a minute?"

(Y/N) hesitated. It sounded like something was wrong, and she got scared, even though she wouldn't show it. "Sure."

They sat down next to each other on the couch. Malcolm spoke first. "(Y/N), I thought you liked dogs."

"I do." Oh no, was her reaction not believable? She didn't want to seem ungrateful.

"So are you not happy to have one of your own?" Malcolm was trying to be patient, but he wanted his questions to be pointed. If they weren't, she could skirt the issue.

"It's not that." She averted her gaze.

"What is it?" Malcolm waited, but she didn’t respond. He held her hand. "You can tell me anything. I won't get upset, I promise. Please, tell me what you're thinking."

(Y/N) considered what would happen if she talked about what her thought process was behind being cold towards the dog. She didn't want to have any secrets to hide from Malcolm, but it went against everything in her nature to talk about her thoughts. She looked back at Malcolm and decided to take a leap of faith when she saw the gentle sincerity in his eyes. Her voice was quiet.

"I don't want it to die."

Malcolm was deeply surprised. He couldn't hide the small smile that played across his lips. Why was she so concerned about that right now? His voice was a little high with confusion. "What do you mean? She's maybe two years old. She won't die for a long time."

"No, dogs die. That's what they do."

(Y/N) normally wasn’t so emphatic. It worried Malcolm, because this meant that there was something deeper. Maybe something happened to the last dog she had to make her feel this way? "What happened to your last dog?"

"Daddy shot it. And he said that if I ever got another one, he would shoot it, too."

Malcolm was reeling with shock. There were so many things wrong with what (Y/N) just said that he didn't even know where to begin. The first thing that came to mind was her use of the word, 'daddy,' when referring to her father. He knew that the use of this term in adulthood could signal significant abuse as a small child. When he asked his question, he never imagined he would happen upon a landmine of childhood trauma. But he had to keep going. He couldnt let her keep this suffering from him any longer.

His next words were some of the hardest he has ever had to say. "Why did your dad shoot your dog?"

"My mother got me a dog when I was a little girl. I was playing with it in the back yard when Daddy came home. I'm not supposed to be happy if he's not happy, so he shot the dog because it made me happy." (Y/N)'s face had no emotion this entire time, and she refused to make eye contact with Malcolm. She was numb, letting the words pour out of her without much thought.

Malcolm stopped breathing. The heartache he was experiencing was too great, and he needed to contain it because this moment wasn't about him; it was about her. Just imagining what it must have been like to see your dog get shot in front of you, as a small child no less, was disturbing.

He was quiet and gentle. "I'm sure that made you very sad, and you don't want to feel that way ever again."

"Daddy got mad when I cried. He beat me and told me never to cry again. Sometimes I forgot, and he would beat me until I remembered."

Malcolm was truly speechless at this point. (Y/N) continued letting the words fall from her mouth. Her voice was calm, and she spoke in a tone that made her words seem like normal things anyone would say.

"I can't have this dog, because it will die. And then I can't cry for it."

Malcolm rapidly searched for the right words to say, but there were none. Still, he tried his best. He struggled to keep his voice from shaking because the cries he wouldn't release. "You are allowed to feel happy, and you are allowed to feel sad. I know you can't see it, but your father was wrong."

(Y/N) finally made eye contact with Malcolm. Were those tears in his eyes? Why was he crying?

He gripped her hand tightly. "You can always show me how you're feeling." He gave her hand a small shake. "Always."

It was clear that she wasn't going to magically show her emotions, but that didn't stop Malcolm from showing his. During this whole story, he wanted nothing more than to just hold her and tell her how sorry he was that she ever experienced those things. So, he let go of her hand and leaned close, pulling her into a hug.

When Malcolm didn't let go of her in a matter of seconds, (Y/N) experienced a foreign feeling. She was accustomed to a hug goodbye or a hug hello, but she had never been held in an embrace before. Her mother learned to never show affection towards her, even after they left her abusive father behind, so she had never experienced a loving hug.

Malcolm's hug was tight and unrelenting. (Y/N) slowly raised her arms to hug him in return, and something deep inside her woke up from a its eternal slumber. As she placed her hands on his back, she tried to recognize it, but couldn't. In reality, this was the first time that she was ever truly loved without fear.

Tears started to form in her eyes as her grip on Malcolm tightened. (Y/N) tried to understand why she was starting to cry, but dismissed the reason as unimportant when she became overwhelmed with emotion. She let her tears fall. They were followed with more tears, and then a soft cry. Malcolm couldn't believe his ears. This was the most emotion she had ever shown, so he held her as tightly as he could. He wanted to support her through this.

Her cries turned into sobs. Decades of sadness and grief gushed out of her all at once. Malcolm finally let his own tears fall, as he thought about all of the pain she has endured on her own. He held her while she cried until she ran out of tears. When they parted, her face was red and her eyes were puffy. He hated that the emotion he was seeing from her was such severe sadness, but he was glad that she finally felt safe enough to show it. They both were then drawn to the dog standing before them. Her ears were pinned back, eyes wide, and her tail was wagging nervously. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she hoped she could make it better.

(Y/N) looked at the sweet dog and she let a smile spread across her face. She laid a hand on the dog's head and her voice cracked as she said, "Hello." The dog jumped up and placed her front paws on (Y/N) as she started to lick the tears from (Y/N)'s face. (Y/N) laughed and pet the dog while Malcolm watched, with tears still falling from his eyes.

It took some convincing from Malcolm before (Y/N) finally saw a therapist. She understood that her journey was a long and hard one, but she had Malcolm and Sophie, her faithful companion, to help her along the way.

[class-wom]

Pretty good points arising on all sides, although I’m still not as ready to view Farouk with as an objective, sympathetic eye as this writer is.  I guess the implication of David’s intrusion “turning Farouk unfriendly and menacing” is worth noting, but wouldn’t he be exposing his dark side rather than triggering it?  I’ll be fair and admit that the door may swing both ways for David, since his realization of what Farouk did to Amy in Chapter 13 pushed him past the point of no return in the darkness department.  That being said, David had absolutely nothing to do with Farouk’s decision to taken an entire country and king prisoner and trap them in the bodies of orphans and a monkey, the latter of whom is trapped in a physical cage as well for good measure!

How does time work on Legion?

It’s a question I don’t think we’ll be fully able to answer until after the finale next week, and even then I doubt things are going to feel straightforward. But if the claim that time is a jungle from Switch’s time travel tapes struck me as significant before, it does even more so now.

David’s plan of going back to the past to prevent his possession by Farouk failed, so his new plan appears to be to team up with his father to kill Farouk instead of just dispelling him from his body. But this not only causes Switch to lose more teeth—and worse—it brings the time demons back in a big way.

They, at least, can change time. This was established in my mind by what happened with Lenny and her daughter, amongst other things. However it works exactly (given that time itself is presented as not exactly linear), it would seem that they ate that part of Lenny’s life, and it’s just gone now.

But, then, did it ever really exist? Ostensibly on Legion, it did. Apparently on Legion, David’s attempt to go back in time caused this. Evidently on Legion, time travel can awaken these demons that eat time and alter it.

But it remains possible that this was what always happened.

This is a big question that runs through all time travel narratives. Can attempts to change things actually do so, or will they inevitably lead to the very events they are intended to prevent?

We won’t know where Legion will come down on this until after the finale, but certain elements seem to foreshadow that it will be in line with the latter option.

Farouk seems friendly before David intervenes and alters Charles’ perspective. And though Charles seems a bit skeptical and hesitant in his judgment of Farouk from the get-go, it really does seem to be David that pushes him towards the decision that Farouk needs to be stopped.

David insists that they will have the upper hand because it will be two against one, but then the episode ends with the older Farouk coming out of a painting on the wall to greet his younger self. And so it seems all too likely that we are gearing up for a battle with Charles and David on the one side and two Farouks on the other.

Is this, perhaps, always what happened in Morocco?

Of course, we’ve also got Charles’ assessment of David to grapple with, as he encounters the various versions of self that constitute Legion. It’s hard to imagine him feeling fine and dandy about what he witnessed in his son’s psyche.

That may contribute to a desire to defeat Farouk, along with the fact that he is clearly disturbed by the mind of the “tyrant” being trapped in a monkey, and those of his followers being stored in a little girl.

But if Charles and David succeed in killing Farouk, we’ll have a Grandfather paradox, insofar as it would be the David that resulted from Farouk’s possession that resulted in Farouk’s demise. If they fail, however, we’ll have a Bootstrap paradox, where an event from the future causes an event in the past, which in turn causes the events of the future.

We won’t know how that plays out until next week, but the time demons do strike me as a wrinkle that will be worth thinking about. Of course, their actions could fit into either of those paradoxical structures as well, but they also seem to be so chaotic that it’s hard to predict what will happen.

I don’t really like speculating about what will occur in the finale of a TV show (though I stand behind my Game of Thrones finale prediction as what I wish had happened), so let’s move to discuss some things pertaining to the main characters in Legion.

Kerry

Kerry seems pretty nonchalantly OK with the idea of killing the baby David. It’s humorous, but this is a debate that some have had with a degree of seriousness, usually about Hitler.

If you could travel back to the past and kill baby Hitler, would you? Should you?

The morality here is a bit tough, as the thought of preventing something very bad from happening certainly holds some weight. Though, at the same time, you’d be killing a child that at that point had not yet done the very bad things.

So, is it right to kill someone who is innocent now in order to prevent them from doing something heinous in the future?

Or maybe is it a better plan to work on making Hitler a successful artist?

But it’s pretty clear that Kerry wants to kill the baby.

Syd

Syd seems to be in line with that second thought about trying to change the past in less violent ways. She doesn’t think the adult David can be saved, but she has to believe that the baby one can, and the second childhood we saw her experience seems to be play a role in how she comes to this position.

She devotes herself to trying to help Gabrielle be a better mother, and perhaps not give David up, and so on. If only she can make his childhood better, maybe that’ll do the trick. (Of course this largely ignores the influence of the Shadow King, and some things Syd says indicate that she may be putting more blame on David than is appropriate.)

But it’s not clear that this is going to have any effect. After spending some time chopping wood for some reason and giving Gabrielle advice, the latter asks Syd if she is really there, and all of the wood is suddenly no longer chopped.

The time demons are to blame, it would seem, but we also see Gabrielle’s concerns about her own mental state arising again here. She’s not sure that she is sane, and not sure that it matters. This would seem to explain how unfazed she is when Syd, Kerry, and Cary appear outside of her home.

Charles

We don’t have a lot to work with when it comes to Charles Xavier still, and it’s not clear how much it is appropriate to bring in from other sources.

As he’s been presented here so far, he seems like a decent man, who loves his wife and child. And it seems that he did indeed seek out Farouk in the spirit of friendship.

But this makes it rather unclear how certain scenes are supposed to fit in. Did he see what we did in Episode 3? And what about the scene early on here in Episode 7 in the theater?

Further, his interaction with Legion should make him suspicious of David, but it’s not clear how much it does so. Certainly he realizes that he is dealing with an unstable mind?

Finding a man’s consciousness trapped in a monkey must be disturbing. And discovering multiple other minds within that of a little girl has to be pretty disconcerting. But do we know that this wasn’t a tyrant and his followers?

One question worth asking is whether it matters. After all, even if we buy Farouk’s line on the matter, one could argue that what he has done is considerably worse than just killing the people in question.

But then there is Farouk’s previous characterization of Charles as a colonialist interfering with a culture he didn’t understand how to grapple with.

Maybe he should have left well enough alone? Perhaps he should never have come?

Farouk

Farouk seems really friendly when Charles arrives, and like he is genuinely happy to have found a compatriot in the world who shares powers similar to his. Maybe it is weird to greet the man with a driver holding a painted portrait of him, but still, Farouk’s exuberance doesn’t seem to me to be feigned.

What a privilege it is to see and be seen!

It’s at least tempting to believe that he was being genuine, until David arrives and disrupts him. He reads David’s mind and keeps getting images of his hippie cult. The Caption Sensible song we previously heard when David broke through to the past gets a recurrence, and it’s hard to say what all exactly Farouk may have intuited. All we know for sure is that it was enough for him to excuse himself.

So, if we put things like the man trapped in a monkey aside, how malicious was Farouk prior to David’s intervention? Was this a trap that he’d laid for Charles, as David suggests, or was he perhaps truly looking for a buddy?

I have to say it struck me as the latter, but given what occurred over the rest of the hour, we’re never going to really know.

Is he the prince of lies, or does the name “Shadow King” merely derive from the way he puts on shadow plays for the children? Is he a force of evil, or did he just go too far, or in a suspect way, when he deposed a man who really was a tyrant?

If we look back to Season 1, the version that has him evil all along makes sense, but those events also occurred after what we’ve seen here in Season 3 Episode 7. And this is not in any way to suggest he should be excused for anything; it is just to note that Farouk’s character has become increasingly complex.

But then again, there are the scenes like the one I mentioned before, where he tells Charles he shouldn’t have come. And we have to ask where and how exactly these fit in.

David

I know there are those who have remained pretty squarely on David’s side throughout the course of this season, but his hubris and narcissism are on full display in this episode.

We can understand it. Convinced that Farouk is a malevolent force (and he probably is) responsible for all his problems, David wants to go back and fix it. He effectively wants to erase his own existence, or get a do-over.

But this is worth thinking about: the David we know would not exist if he succeeds. Not only would all of the death and destruction he has wrought be undone, he himself would be. And this is what he wants.

In this regard, whether or not Farouk was the cause of David’s mental illness becomes a bit irrelevant. You’re not responsible for the illness, but you are for how you deal with it. And to treat it as an excuse is to shirk that responsibility.

Worse, David seems to think that if he can only change the past, it won’t matter what he’s done. And while in the real world we don’t tend to encounter the alteration of past events as a live possibility, this structure of thinking that one is justified in using whatever means necessary to achieve a goal is something we can point to all over the place.

And, so, it is how he treats Switch in this episode that leads me to my deepest condemnation of David yet.

She’s a great character. Her dedication to David might have been a little under-justified in terms of the text of the show (as she does seem to have followed him freely, as opposed to having been psychically swayed to do so), but it’s been there and it hasn’t really felt forced. For whatever reason, our time traveler has decided to be on his side.

She loses teeth to help him go back to the past—more and more teeth—and ultimately collapses from the strain of the whole thing. And yet, when Charles asks about her, David says she is no one: a means to an end.

David’s narcissism and obsession with changing the past have become all-encompassing. And, again, this is somewhat understandable. Legion has done a great job of doing this in a way we can understand where David is coming from, leaving the space open where he might possibly even be right.

But even if he is right about the Shadow King, and even if he is able to change the past, the way he has acted is unjustifiable, and mental illness only goes so far as an excuse.

Presumably on Legion, we’ll see next week how this all pans out.

[mrneighbourlove]

Monsters: Ch 1. Where Monsters lie, Innocence Dies

Ralnor had been in his office all day. There was much work to be done. Though, occasionally, there was muffled whispering. Some of the staff thought that the second crown prince was talking to himself. Others wondered if his office was haunted by an old ghost. His spies, however, knew exactly what it was; the monster in the walls. A story floated around in the circle of Ralnor's spies, saying he sent a group to the old tunnels to find more information about a supposed creature sneaking around in the underground catacombs. When the scouts did not return, all that was found of them were dismembered body parts. Supposedly, the prince was the only one who could see or speak to this horrible fiend in the dark. Somehow, he managed to appeal to this monster's better nature... or maybe he was feeding it his enemies. Either way, the spies never dared to say a word against their master.

Miranda finally grew close enough to the spies to listen to stories they shared. A story of a monster in the walls, she didn’t think anything of it, until one day, on a return trip to the castle, she smelled something coming from a sewer grate. Investigating she came across a decayed corpse of someone wearing a Hylian emblem. What really creeped her out, was what she thought she heard a growl coming from deep in the darkened sewage tunnels. Running back to her boss, she did not have the experience yet to not speak her mind about the rumours. “My Prince. There’s something I wish to discuss with you.”

"... did I not ask you to knock before entering my office?" Ralnor did not even look up from his paperwork, continuing to write with his quill. The whispering disappeared as soon as the girl stepped foot in the room. He would have to remind Klinge yet again to discipline the kid. She had to learn there was a proper way to address a situation. "What is so urgent that you must interrupt my work, Miranda?"

“I’m sorry my lord.” Miranda gave a bow. She did her best to adjust to all of Ralnor’s rules. “I heard rumours about a monster under Hyrule. I didn’t think anything of it, but I discovered a corpse of a soldier coming from the sewage system. I think there’s a threat to the security of the people my lord. If the rumours are true, this has been going on for a while. The corpse I discovered had unique bite marks, nothing like any normal animal. I have reason to believe that this is either a very rabid creature, or something far more dangerous, like a real monster.”

"You really believe that story of a monster in the underground?" Ralnor chuckled at Miranda's words, brushing off her worries. He had to save face. No one could know about the creature in the catacombs. "Listen, if you're such a child to believe in fairy tales, then perhaps you'd be better suited to be a babysitter than a scout." The second prince glanced up from his paperwork, only once to look at Miranda. "A decomposed body may look like he has unknown bite marks due to the rats chewing on the flesh. I wouldn't be surprised if this supposed 'monster' of yours is perhaps a disposed exotic pet, like a crocodile."

"I-I'm not a child sir!" Her long ears drooped like a puppy who had been scolded. "Regardless of why or how it happened, there's a dead body of a soldier of this nation found in the sewers. I doubt he just got there for exploration’s sakes and eaten by some swamp dragon. We should investigate it further, to prevent anyone else from getting hurt!"

"My men know better than to wander around in the catacombs." Ralnor stated as he dripped wax onto a letter and then stamped it with his seal. "Whatever reason he was down there for, he obviously did not listen to me nor cared about the danger of the old traps. Those tunnels are as old as Hyrule itself and full of peril. The men know not to venture down there and I don't want you going in there either. That is final."

Miranda was about to say something, but stopped herself. Her ears continued to droop. “Yes sir...”

"Now, run along and remember to knock next time." Ralnor reminded the young girl. As she started to exit his office, he said, "And I better not hear of you in those tunnels. I want you alive and well."

“But you said nothing was down there.”

"There's nothing but traps, and I won't have you fall into one because of your insatiable curiosity."

“Ok.” Her ears shot back up and she hopped back to the Prince when she remembered her second objective for entering his office. She handed him a journal containing private dark thoughts of a tutor and bowed. “My last mission my lord. Turns out there was indeed a plot to blackmail your youngest sister.”

"I figured as much." Ralnor's hunches were almost always correct. "And you took care of the problem?"

“I don’t hurt people sir. Just ‘borrow’ all the evidence you need.”

"Very well. I'll see to it that the problem is fixed." Ralnor then instructed her. "Go train with Klinge."

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” She bowed again and bounded off, not picking up any other presence near by.

Later on in the evening, the servants were avoiding Ralnor's office. Once more, all of the maids swore there was whispering. Perhaps his office really was haunted. After a long night finishing up work, the second prince strolled through the hallway with a book in his hand about ancient poisons.

Miranda couldn’t shake the feeling in her heart about something being terribly wrong. If Ralnor wouldn’t do anything about it, than perhaps Klinge would.

“Klinge! I have news to report!”

Klinge was in his office looking at the clock tic by. Every second going by another reminder of his life never able to end. The Dark Elf barely broke him out of his trance. “Yes Miranda?”

“I found a body in the sewers of Hyrule! I heard rumours of a monster in the underground of Hyrule, so I believe something is incredibly off about this.”

Klinge sighed softly. “So you believe any rumours about a monster now?”

“I know, I know. It’s exactly what Ralnor said, and he was incredibly shady about the subject. He didn’t care that a soldier of Hyrule was ripped apart! I know it was no crocodile.” The Dark Elf slammed her hand on the table. “I know about the rumours that come from Ralnor’s office. I also know there’s major hush-hush with the thieving society around a group that “shall not be named” in Hyrule! My gut is telling me there’s a great danger in Hyrule!”

Klinge pauses to consider it. He too had heard the rumours, but never found the evidence for it. It did make him curious though. And a body of one of his men had to be taken seriously. “Very well Miranda. At the least, we shall recover this body you found.”

Miranda’s eats shot up through her white hair in excitement at being taken seriously. “Thank you sir! I’ll take you there right away!”

Little did the two know that Ralnor had eyes and ears everywhere. There could be no trouble for the underground. What this world knew of monsters had to be limited. When Klinge and Miranda arrived to the body site, there was evidence of blood and decayed flesh... but no corpse.

Miranda was nearly distraught. “It was here!”

Klinge took note of the blood, and stain that dragged backwards into the tunnel. “I believe you.”

Picking up a piece of wood, he turned it in a makeshift torch and handed it to Miranda. “Follow me.”

He stepped into the sewer and started to investigate the blood trail.

The sewer went deep into the heart of Hyrule, yet connected to it was plenty of routes into the catacombs. It was a death maze without a map. Some of the tunnels had caved in over the years and others promised a grisly end with the remains of bones. It was an eerie feeling like the two of them were being watched. Not even rats dared to dwell in this place.

Miranda felt a chill run up her spine. This place felt old, but no longer empty. Klinge however felt nothing for this place. It was just another maze. “Interesting. Anything could be hiding in here.”

Miranda didn’t like the implication of that. Her mother always told her stories of boogeymen hiding in the dark to make her behave as a child. “But you think something is in here?”

“Catacombs this large are like a labyrinth. And labyrinths always hold something...”

Klinge walked to the walls, reading very old Hylian inscriptions.

The text on the concrete wall spoke of how the catacombs used to be a burial ground for the common wealth. The farmland was too precious to sacrifice as a graveyard, so the people were buried here to save space. It warned not to disturb the dead or trespass on their grounds. Promises of demise would greet those who did not respect the wishes of those who had already passed on into the next realm. As the two journeyed deeper into the catacombs, bones started to make up the walls....

The undead warrior glared at the signs. He knew no demise worse than the fate of his undying existence. The dead had no thoughts or messages to give. Miranda really do not like all the skulls that made up the walls. "Klinge. I don't like this place."

"If you see any Statlfos or Redead, stay close and remember your training."

"Klinge, what if we enter the Shadow Temple."

"That's near Kakariko Village. Nowhere near here."

"But-"

"Hush. Keep your ears and eyes open, and your mouth shut."

The Dark Elf did as she was told. Both continued down further and further.

The shadows moved without warning. Water dripped from the ceiling, causing a faint echo throughout the tunnels here and there. Though there were some unsettling signs. More corpses littered the tunnels like the one before, but different signs of death. One unfortunate soul was wrapped in what looked like spider webbing, drained of blood. Another had a hole the size of a melon in his chest, as if something huge had pierced him. Perhaps the grossest was a corpse that had been partly digested and then regurgitated. Bones were scattered across the floor in all directions.

It was too much for the Dark Elf, and she threw up. She could steal from men, make jokes at Bokoblins and criminals screaming for her death, and even swing a punch at some creep. That was fun. That was adventure. This was no adventure. This death all around her clashed against her more innocent viewpoint of the world. Klinge examined the bodies closely. “Take our your camera and capture the evidence. Now.”

Miranda took out her pictograph box and started to take pictures of the corpses. It only held black and white photos, but they were clear enough, the flash going off for each photo taken. Klinge could have sworn he’d seen signs of these attacks before. Did a Gohma spider lay the web? It was a monster big and terrible enough to do the kind of damage to the first two corpses, however, the third corpse didn’t fit its M.O.

The first flash from the camera revealed a tail, slinking back into darkness, fading as the light did. The second flash displayed a pair of red eyes observing from the shadows, narrowed and angry. The third flash sealed Miranda's fate as a figure emerged from the blackness too quick for the eye to see. Clawed hands snatched the elf, unseen to both Miranda and Klinge.

Miranda let out a scream as she was taken, dropping the camera. Her mind raced to her sick mother and how stupid she was for coming here.

Klinge wiped around, his mind racing at this sudden attack. “Miranda!”

Grabbing the torch he ran after her, frantic to find her. “Miranda! Hold on!!!”

As Klinge ran through the tunnels, it was like a rat trying to find its way out of an endless maze with no exit. A dark laugh echoed and taunted him from all directions. Miranda was still alive... for now. She was still screaming and perhaps now, crying too. When the commander ran into a connector, there was a small streams of light from lit torches hanging on the side of the walls. Five options of a path awaited him.... yet Miranda's dagger fell from above to the floor with a clatter, causing the undead to look upward.

A monster was hanging from the ceiling.

Those coils seemed to have no end from what little light the fire provided. The tiny elf was wrapped from neck to ankle with black scales, still moving along her skin. The expression on her face was one of shock and absolute terror. One hand emerged from the shadows and then another, placed expertly on the stones. Then the face of horror slowly crept from the darkness with a demented grin and flickering tongue. Indeed there was a monster beneath Hyrule.

"Come to slay old Bonegrinder?" The creature actually laughed, highly amused as a single claw traced over Miranda's cheek. "Or does he have two new playthings? He so does love to play, you see, chase and chase and chase until he gets them and they scream, so lovely, yes, the screams..."

Miranda’s tears would not stop falling from her face. Her mouth quivered in terror. “P-please. N-no.”

Klinge studied this thing that slivered from the darkness. It had the body of a serpent, and an upper body of a humanoid. It was indeed a monster. But so was Klinge, and the Undead would not be intimidated for the sake of Miranda.

He summoned his bow and arrow, taking aim. “Return. My apprentice. Now.”

"Oh, this your pet? Pity, pity." Bonegrinder's huge body moved freely about the columns holding up the ceiling. The monster did not even seem worried about a weapon. "Don't you know, you're supposed to keep pets on a leash? Otherwise, if it goes out into the wild, it just might get..." He flicked his tongue again, that mouth full of jagged teeth so close to Miranda's face. "Eaten."

“I am Klinge. Blade of the Gerudo. The Slayer. Identify yourself.”

Miranda gave a light scream. “No, no, no, no! Klinge, please help me. I-I want my mom.”

Klinge looked her in the eye, the first time in years he tapped his bow in worry. “Everything is going to be ok Miranda. You’ll see her soon.”

"Oooh, the undead one, the tool of the royals, the gloomy, ever depressed, hollow shell of a man who wishes nothing more than to depart from this realm... but can't." The monster chuckled darkly as Klinge kept the arrow raised and ready to fire. "Yes, yes, Bonegrinder knows all about you, he can feel your surprise. Let's see, what else does he know? Oh yes, he knows you fought with Zelda all those years ago, and... right..." His upper half twisted upside down, a lopsided callous grin on his face. "You let her kill your wife. No wonder you blame the queen, when you really should blame yourself." He shook a clawed finger at the commander. "And now, you're letting this little pet come in here? Where danger lurks around every corner? Tsk, you must not care at all what happens to her." The snake man's jaw unhinged, his mouth impossibly large. "Maybe she'll be a good snack, resting in Bonegrinder's belly until he tires of her."

Miranda screamed aloud, hollering at the top of her lungs for safety and her mother. Klinge felt his dark side rise within him. This abomination was old enough or clever enough to know about his life. Worse, it mocked him. It mocked every fibre that made Klinge what he was. The Undead warrior made a promise that he would destroy this thing. But first, he would save Miranda. This snake was close enough for Klinge’s magic to work. Hopefully she wouldn’t suffer.

In his wrath, he was completely silent. Raising a fist, he clenched it and pulled back, energy spears generating from behind the snake to pierce his tail and mouth. If the gods listened, he prayed they’d allowed him to catch Miranda safely.

The spears did indeed pierce the snake, causing him to drop Miranda. The elf was not totally unharmed, broken bones and bruises from Bonegrinder's coils squeezing her so tightly during the struggle. Though, the attack did not kill the monster. No, it merely made him... laugh? It was a maniacal laugh, one devoid of sanity. Slithering down from the ceiling, the fiend removed the spear from his mouth, a gaping hole there. Creepily, the skin started to patch itself back together, as if the wound had never been there in the first place.

"Oh, you stupid tool..." Bonegrinder's jaw locked back into place with a malicious smile. Those red eyes leered at him as his tail started to snuff out the torches. "You know that you cannot kill what is already... dead."

Klinge caught Miranda with one arm, the Dark Elf falling unconscious after being released. This thing was like him? Then let it see the light. He threw up a wall of dark fire at Bonegrinder. With great intensity, he ran off with Miranda back to the surface. He couldn’t fight with her here. So instead he would retreat.

Bonegrinder did not pursue the two intruders in the catacombs. No, the undead commander would report back to the second prince. There was no need for concern, everything would play in his favor. After all, the prince would not deny him. Ralnor was smart enough to know not to cross a monster. Licking the outside of his jaws, he murmured to himself, "Run, run, undead... run away back to your master."

Klinge promised he’d be back. Arriving at the castle, he dropped Miranda on Doctor Boveir’s operation table. “She needs a physical examination and mental care when she wakes up.”

"Good goddesses, Klinge, what happened to her?" Doctor Boveir took a look over the tiny elf's body and winced aloud. "She has multiple fractures. I'm going to call in a Dusa to help me... what happened?"

“Fix her.”

Doctor Boveir frowned and decided not to ask further questions. He first administered a light sedative to keep Miranda asleep, because she would be in a high level of discomfort after setting the bones. Once the on call Dusa arrived, the two set to work about healing the dark elf.

Klinge walked to his office. Miranda would be safe while with the doctors. Sitting at his desk he let his anger fester deep inside him. The silence made him more angry.

It was not long before Ralnor knocked on Klinge's office door. The second prince heard from his spies that the commander and the dark elf traveled down to the catacombs. He had strictly ordered for no one to be down there for any reason.

“Come in Prince.” Klinge didn’t even need to see who was behind the door to know who was coming.

Ralnor opened the door and then shut it behind him with an angry slam.

"I explicitly ordered that no one went into the catacombs, Klinge. That includes you."

“You think you have power over me?” Klinge squeezes his fists together as he held both elbows on his table. “Tell me. What was that thing I discovered.”

"I am your prince, the least I demand from you is respect! You have free reign on whatever you wish to do, who you want to kill, what you say to others, I don't stop you, but when I give an order, I have good reason for it to be followed!" Ralnor snapped harshly at the commander. "... what do you think you discovered?"

“I investigated the death of one of my men. I don’t allow my soldiers to be discarded like one of your spies Ralnor! I followed a trail to the catacombs. I found a monster by the name of Bonegrinder.” When he saw a visible reaction from Ralnor at that name, Klinge nearly exploded in anger, rising from his chair to walk around his desk and face Ralnor. “What do you know about it? Because you do know something about it. You are going to reveal what you know to me, now boy.”

"One of your men who defied my orders, defied your orders. No better than a traitor." Ralnor had grown cold and callous as he aged. It seemed like his best kept secret was now at risk of being known. Klinge and Miranda had traveled deep enough into the monster's territory to encounter him. "... thanks to you crossing into his domain, I fear now what I'll have to do to appease him." The second prince took a deep breath and tried to tame his ire. "Bonegrinder is an ancient monster from the lands of Omisha; an Anagari."

“My men? Are you speaking of a dead man, or Miranda? And what do you mean appease?”

"Whoever traveled down into those catacombs defied my orders, and thus is no longer my concern." Ralnor then snorted. "Miranda insisted on pursuing the evidence she found when I told her not to do so. She's next in line for insubordination. I'll deal with her later." The prince then explained to Klinge with a dry laugh. "Appease? Did you not see him, Klinge? Or did he move too fast for you do to so? That creature lurks in the underground catacombs and is the hidden head of crime. Anyone who displeases him is eaten. Thieves, black market items, drugs, prostitution, all of that? He rules." He frowned at the commander. "He's older than he looks too. Way older."

Klinge slapped Ralnor across the face. He was completely livid with his nephew. “Your actions disgust me Ralnor. You will not dare lay a hand on Miranda. That girl only did what she thought was the noble thing, and followed my orders to pursue it further. And now she has suffered enough for that. You have not only thrown away your honour by lying in bed with a monster, but a kingpin? What would your brother think? Your wife. Your father .... or your children.” Klinge clenched his fist, reeling in the fact he wanted to beat the life out of the prince. “You allow this thing to fester in Hyrule, to control you, to make you number 2. It seems that’s the place you feel suited to isn’t it. Now tell me, before I spill your secrets out to them all, why you allow that thing to ensnare you.”

Ralnor grunted when Klinge slapped him but stood his ground. This was nothing he had not suffered through before. The blow to the face caused his lip to bust and a trickle of blood to run down his chin.

"... because he can't be killed." Ralnor said lowly, a dark glare on his face. "And I won't risk the lives of my family for an idiot commander and dimwitted dark elf who don't realize exactly how dire this situation is." The prince would do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of those he cared for, no matter what the price. "It's better to placate a monster than to risk it's ire. I learned that from you."

"Heheheheh..." A voice snickered from inside the walls. "Little prince, did you send this undead twig after Bonegrinder? Oh, he had fun watching the elf scream and the festered pile of flesh twitch from her cries. Won't you send more? You know old Bonegrinder so enjoys the... snacks... that dare to cross into his home."

If looks could kill, Klinge would already be in the next realm.

"... even if I say no, you're still angry." Ralnor spoke in a soft voice. "I gave orders to my men not to cross into the catacombs. You heard me doing so."

"Can't you keep your dogs on a leash? Better yet, why don't you just use dark magic to keep this tool in order?" Bonegrinder inquired, his voice coming from a different direction this time. "It would be easy, Bonegrinder could show you."

Klinge looked down at Ralnor, and the Prince felt an aura from him he never felt before. This wasn’t simple anger, or disappointment. This was something far more dark inside Klinge. “Get. Out.”

That warning could have been for either one of them.

"Hehehe, did old Bonegrinder touch a nerve, corpse?" The snake monster chuckled from inside the walls. "He will be watching you. Nothing you can hide from him."

Ralnor wiped the blood off his chin and turned on his heel. Exiting the office, the second prince walked to his bedroom to check on his wife. With a relieved sigh, he found Cass fast asleep with little Ukuri in her bassinet. It was late but sleep would not come to him, he knew this. Taking his sleeping daughter into his arms, Ralnor sat against a stack of pillows on the bed and silently kept watch.

Klinge went to the darkest reaches of his mind. This thing had festered itself too deeply in the lives of Ralnor and the family to be kept alive. It kept had insulted him too far to be allowed to live. And it claimed to be unkillable. Klinge decided that this was his final challenge. He would slay Bonegrinder. Or it would consume him. Klinge cracked his knuckles as he got to work writing out his plan. “Oh he may try.”

[lastsonlost]

Aziz? redemption ?

AZIZ DIDN’T FUCKING DO ANY GOD DAMN THING WRONG!!!!!!

God, I love being white,” said Louis C.K.

“Here’s how great it is to be white,” the comedian went on: “I could get in a time machine, and go to any time, and it would be fucking awesome when I get there. That is exclusively a white privilege.”

The bit, part of his 2008 special Chewed Up, was emblematic of C.K.’s approach: poking fun at the inequalities of American society, while simultaneously acknowledging the ways they benefited him.

Contrast that with a set he performed in December 2018, a little over a year after he admitted to masturbating in front of women without their consent. During the December appearance, apparently at a comedy club on Long Island, C.K. joked that Asian men are “all women” and poked fun at school shooting survivors and gender-nonconforming teenagers, according to BuzzFeed News.

“They tell you what to call them,” he complained of teens who use the pronouns they/them. “Oh, OK. You should address me as ‘there’ because I identify as a location. And the location is your mother’s cunt.”

Imagine thinking the best way to resurrect your career after admitting to sexual misconduct is to mock trans people and Parkland gun violence survivors.

2018, during which his standup special and the wide release of his film I Love You, Daddy were canceled, seems to have wrought a change in C.K. Where once his comedy offered a fresh look at established power structures, he now seems set on ranting about kids today and their pronoun choices.

Fellow comedian Aziz Ansari has followed a similar trajectory. He once decried sexual harassment in his act — and addressed the issue in a nuanced way on his show Master of None. But in 2017, a woman told the website Babe.net that he had pressured her for sex — Ansari said he had believed everything that happened between them was “completely consensual,” and that he was “surprised and concerned” by her account. 

After the incident, his comedy took on a different tone: In a fall 2018 appearance, he made fun of online debates about cultural appropriation and complained that nowadays, “everyone weighs in on everything,” according to the New Yorker.

The bigotry in C.K.’s set is disturbing, especially coming from someone who seemed at one time to have a relatively clear understanding of how power works in America. But what is also striking about C.K. and Ansari’s post-#MeToo material is its banality. Before they were publicly accused, these men wrestled with thorny questions of identity and power in ways that, while not always satisfying, were usually thought-provoking. After the allegations, they began parroting tired complaints about political correctness.

Of the many people accused of sexual misconduct as part of the #MeToo movement, C.K. and Ansari seemed like they might be uniquely equipped to reckon with the allegations against them, perhaps even adding something to the public conversation around #MeToo. Instead, they have retreated into boring and offensive stereotypes, perhaps playing to those who never thought they did anything wrong.

We’re all worse off for their decision, missing out on the art C.K. and Ansari might have created if they’d been willing to really face their accusations, and robbed of the opportunity to see two intelligent and thoughtful men really wrestle with the implications of #MeToo. In a time when more and more of the accused mull their comebacks, it’s natural to wonder what real redemption — complete with an acknowledgment of harm and a commitment to atonement — might look like. Apparently, Louis C.K. and Aziz Ansari will not be the ones to show us.

Louis C.K. used to talk about violence against women. Now he makes fun of genderqueer teens.

Before #MeToo, Louis C.K. was beloved by many for his often self-lacerating comedy. In his standup and on the autobiographical FX show Louie, he portrayed himself as a sad-sack weirdo disturbed by his own sexual urges — he once called himself a “prisoner” of “sexual perversion.”

C.K.’s work could be offensive, as when he complained that he missed being able to use a homophobic slur (and claimed, unconvincingly, that the way he used it had nothing to do with homophobia). But some hailed his comedy as feminist, and he showed a remarkable ability to mine humor from the dangers and biases women face — a difficult feat for a male comic.

“How do women still go out with guys when you consider that there is no greater threat to women than men?” he asked in a 2013 special. “We’re the number one threat to women! Globally and historically, we’re the number one cause of injury and mayhem to women.”

But C.K. was also the subject of long-simmering sexual misconduct rumors — and in November 2017, four women told the New York Times that he had masturbated in front of them or asked them to watch him masturbate (a fifth said that he masturbated while on a phone call with her).

In a move that remains unusual among men accused as part of #MeToo, C.K. admitted to the allegations against him. “These stories are true,” he said in a statement to the New York Times.

“I have spent my long and lucky career talking and saying anything I want,” he added. “I will now step back and take a long time to listen.”

But as many have pointed out, the listening didn’t last very long. C.K. was back onstage in September 2018, less than a year after his pledge to step back. In an October appearance at the West Side Comedy Club in New York, he addressed the fallout from his sexual misconduct revelations, saying he’d been to “hell and back” and that he’d “lost $35 million in an hour.”

While many were critical of C.K.’s comeback attempt, West Side Comedy Club host AMarie Castillo told the comedy website LaughSpin that the comic “was so genuine and reflected on how weird his year was” in his October appearance. “Sounds to me he is owning up, acknowledging, and trying to figure it out,” she said.

But in a December set, he didn’t sound much like someone trying to figure anything out. In audio posted on YouTube, apparently from an appearance at the Governor’s Comedy Club on Long Island on December 16, C.K. poked fun at gender-nonconforming youth, Parkland school shooting survivors, and Asian men, among other groups. (The club was unable to confirm to BuzzFeed that C.K. was there that night, though multiple people posted on Instagram that they had seen him perform there.)

“You know why Asian guys have small dicks,” he said at one point, according to Patrick Smith and Amber Jamieson of BuzzFeed. “’Cause they’re women. They’re not dudes. They’re all women. All Asians are women.”

C.K. also said he thought it was ridiculous that the term “retarded” was now viewed as inappropriate, Smith and Jamieson reported. When some listeners appeared shocked, he responded, “Fuck it, what are you going to take away, my birthday? My life is over, I don’t give a shit.”

C.K. has not responded to a request for comment from Vox.

Aziz Ansari once included a sexual harassment storyline on his show. Now he’s complaining about Twitter outrage.

Ansari’s comedy has always been more lighthearted than C.K.’s, but he hasn’t shied away from difficult topics. In a 2015 Netflix special filmed at New York’s Madison Square Garden, he asked women in the audience to raise their hands if they’d ever been followed by a “creepy dude,” according to Eren Orbey at the New Yorker.

“Yeah, that’s way too many people,” he said when hands went up. “That should not be happening.”

The second season of his Netflix show, Master of None, also included a storyline about sexual misconduct. Ansari’s character, Dev, teams up with celebrity chef Jeff Pastore (Bobby Cannavale) for a show called Best Food Friends. But Dev is forced to make a choice when a female crew member reveals that Chef Jeff repeatedly harassed her. The episode, which aired before #MeToo gained steam in fall 2017, felt true to life, as Isha Aran pointed out at Splinter, “from the fears victims face in going public to the misogynist skepticism they’re met with when they share their stories.”

But in January 2018, a woman going by the name Grace told the website Babe.net that Ansari had repeatedly pressured her for sex while the two were on a date. She called it “by far the worst experience with a man I’ve ever had.”

“We went out to dinner, and afterwards we ended up engaging in sexual activity, which by all indications was completely consensual,” Ansari said in a statement on the allegations last January. “The next day, I got a text from her saying that although ‘it may have seemed okay,’ upon further reflection, she felt uncomfortable. It was true that everything did seem okay to me, so when I heard that it was not the case for her, I was surprised and concerned.”

“I continue to support the movement that is happening in our culture,” Ansari concluded, presumably referring to #MeToo. “It is necessary and long overdue.”

By fall 2018, however, his tone sounded different. In a Connecticut stop on his “Working Out New Material” comeback tour, he complained about Twitter users debating whether a teenager’s prom dress constituted cultural appropriation, according to Orbey.

“Everyone weighs in on everything,” he said. “They don’t know anything. People don’t wanna just say, ‘I don’t know.’”

He also decried “the destructive performativity of Internet activism and the fickle, ever-changing standards of political correctness,” according to Orbey. He compared left-wing Twitter users to Trump supporters (“at least with the Trump people,” he said, “I kinda know where they stand”) and accused them of competing with one another in a game of “Progressive Candy Crush.”

“One might have hoped that, nearly a year later, [Ansari] could find a way to reckon with one of the movement’s messiest lessons: that even men who wish to serve as allies of women can, intentionally or not, hurt them in private,” Orbey wrote. “Instead, like other men who have reëmerged in recent months, he seems to have channelled his experience into a diffuse bitterness.”

Ansari has not responded to Vox’s request for comment.

If C.K. and Ansari can’t reckon with the allegations against them, can anyone?

Allegations of sexual misconduct against C.K. and Ansari hit fans hard in part because of the thoughtful nature of their comedy — these were supposed to be the good guys.

The accusations prompted fans and critics to reevaluate both men’s work. At Splinter, Aran notes that despite its sexual harassment storyline, Master of None’s second season displays some underlying misogyny. Dev’s relationship with love interest Francesca, in particular, sends the message “that a woman’s initial reluctance can be chipped away at, that indifference is a wall to be torn down.”

C.K., meanwhile, had been telling masturbation jokes for years. As Melena Ryzik, Cara Buckley, and Jodi Kantor reported at the New York Times, “he rose to fame in part by appearing to be candid about his flaws and sexual hang-ups, discussing and miming masturbation extensively in his act — an exaggerated riff that some of the women feel may have served as a cover for real misconduct.” His film I Love You, Daddy, which was initially scheduled for release in November 2017, dealt with a relationship between a famous filmmaker and a 17-year-old girl.

And C.K.’s December set does recall some of his earlier work — the man who complained about teens today and their pronouns is clearly the same one, for instance, who expressed nostalgia for a time when he could use homophobic slurs without being criticized.

Still, C.K. and Ansari were somewhat unusual as male entertainers willing to delve into issues of power and privilege and talk about the ways men hurt women.

That’s what makes their current material so surprising. Ansari and C.K. aren’t just avoiding the subject of #MeToo — they’re going in the opposite direction, complaining about political correctness and outrage culture when their comedy once sent the message that women were absolutely right to be outraged.

Their new work is reactionary — crude jokes about Asian men wouldn’t be out of place at a Trump rally — and it’s dated. C.K.’s complaints about they/them pronouns aren’t just offensive; they’re also tired, well-worn platitudes parroted by everyone from psychologist Jordan Peterson to TV host Piers Morgan. C.K. may think his new material is edgy, but his rant about young people today sounds like it could come from Grandpa Simpson.

Some have speculated that C.K. is consciously courting a more right-leaning audience with his new material after losing the trust of his previous fans, and it’s certainly possible that he and Ansari are pivoting to please the people who were eager to explain away the allegations against them — those who think sexual misconduct only matters if it rises to the level of the allegations against Harvey Weinstein, or who believe that men who are accused deserve swift and unconditional forgiveness.

Whatever the case, the trajectories of C.K. and Ansari are doubly disappointing — first, because men whose work had a feminist bent were accused of hurting women, and second, because they let those accusations destroy the nuanced social awareness their earlier work displayed. Apparently, C.K. and Ansari were only interested in challenging the status quo when they remained unchallenged — once women spoke out against them, they performed the comedic equivalent of packing up their toys and going home.

That’s sad for all of us. We don’t get to see the comedy these men could have created if they’d wanted to face, rather than flee from, our current moment in history. And we don’t get to see two thoughtful entertainers bring their talents to bear on a project that matters to all of us — figuring out what it should look like for men accused as part of #MeToo to apologize, atone, and move forward.

Ever since the #MeToo movement gained mainstream attention in 2017, there’s been a lot of talk about what accused men can do to redeem themselves. Now, more than a year in, it’s certainly possible to imagine some of the accused truly reckoning with their pasts — Dan Harmon’s apology for sexually harassing a writer on his show offers a view of what that might look like. But it’s hard to hold out much hope for such a reckoning on a large scale when two men who seemed like they, of all people, might be able to look deeply at their own behavior have instead chosen to pander to those who would excuse them.

______________________

AZIZ DIDN’T FUCKING DO ANY GOD DAMN THING WRONG!!!!!!

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 14/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody RATING: T (so far) NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

      “Soldier, get the weapon back to the jet and knock it out,” Schneider ordered, breaking through your haze of horror and grief.

    Footsteps approached and hands were on your arms, hauling you to your feet. “On your feet, Natal’ka,” Bucky told you firmly, gruffly. He risked the different nickname, reminding you to be strong like Nat. Hydra would just think his brain had glitched again, though he gave you the message. You managed to stand and keep your feet under you. “Push it down, Natal’ka,” Bucky hissed when you stiffened at walking past the carnage you had created. “Lock the emotions away. You can rage and cry and deal with them later. We have to get out of here right now,”

    “It still needs some work, but you can see for yourselves how effective the weapon is,” Schneider was telling the other Hydra agents. They were all throwing themselves at him to try to bid for your use. It made you want to puke again.

    You tried to think past the pain and grief, past the despair over what you’d been forced to do and walk with Bucky. You had to get out of here. He was right on that point. You looked past the agents to a nearby car that somehow wasn’t on fire, though everything else in the village seemed to be burning. There were two ravens perched on it, shimmering with magic as they watched the scenes.

    You knew at once from the Norse Mythology book Loki had given you to read when he first met you, from the words they had used to trigger whatever the hell you did here today.

    Odin’s ravens.

    To speak the name is to summon the man, or birds in this case. Hydra was so afraid to even speak Loki’s name, for fear of summoning him. They must not realize that the ravens were magic too, or real. Morons. The ravens were Odin’s spies, you knew, and had probably been curious why someone on Midgard was using their names.

    But would Odin help?

    Not directly.

    He wouldn’t interfere directly on Midgard.

    But…

    You couldn’t get closer to the ravens, but they took off to fly past you, to fly out of the village, to uselessly fly away. You hoped they were as good of spies as the stories said. “Odin. Allfather. Please. If you have any love for your sons, please help them. They’re both looking for me and trying to save me. Please, Allfather. Please help your sons.” Your words were a whisper, your face turned to the agents couldn’t see your lips move. The ravens cawed and continued on their way. You had no idea if they even heard you, much less if Odin would care, or deign to help.

    “What are you talking about?” Bucky hissed, scared you were risking blowing his cover. You were his only hope for escape too. Plus he actually liked you. You shook your head. It was too dangerous to discuss out here. He nodded, understanding, and while he might not know all the mythology, almost everyone knew at least of Odin and Thor.

    He got you back on the jet and in your seat as fast as he could. He didn’t trust your mental health after what you’d been forced to do. Wise man. You were barely holding it together. He ignored all of the blood you were covered in, which was very polite of him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I had no idea they were going to do this. I’m sorry about this too,” you had a moment to look up at him before he continued “Tinkerbell”

    *

    Loki was watching to footage of you causing the carnage in horror when your unconscious mind latched onto his. You’d been so covered in blood, and probably had consumed quite a lot of it, that your powers were boosted enough to reach him. He turned his attention away from the screen when he felt your presence in his mind.

    “They had to have forced her somehow. You all know her. She wouldn’t have done this,” Stark was saying, desperately trying to defend you somehow, despite the evidence in front of their eyes. “Plus, Hydra sent us this footage to antagonize us. Jarvis, get rid of every trace of this footage besides what we have here,” he ordered quickly. No one wanted the news to have any evidence of this. 

    “Y/N!” Loki exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention away from arguing over your actions. He was so obviously relieved to be hearing from you. The room shut up in an instant. “What did they do to you?” he asked, glancing at the screen currently showing you standing in the middle of the pile of bodies.

    /Can you hear?/ you didn’t know how strong the connection was this time.

    “I can,” he replied. Everyone watched him talking to himself confused, and a little concerned, though they knew he was talking to you. It was still disturbing to those not used to magic. Thor didn’t seem concerned.

    /Trigger words. They used trigger words. I don’t remember a damn thing after they said the first one, until they said the reversal. I don’t remember doing any of that. I wasn’t in control/ your voice was a heartbroken wail, begging him to believe that this wasn’t your fault, so he could convince you.

    “What are trigger words, love? I don’t understand,” Loki’s voice was pained, heartbroken, tortured that he couldn’t help, that he didn’t understand what you were trying to tell him. That he didn’t know how to help your grief.

    “It’s mind control. We’ll explain it later, I know she can’t hold the connection long,” Nat explained quickly. Her voice sounded relieved. You could see the relief in the rest of the team as well. The explanation of trigger words reassured everyone that you were in no way responsible for your actions. Well, everyone but you. Nat caught on to things extremely quickly and you were grateful for it now when she caught on to how magic worked. “Ask her what the words are that they used. We need to be prepared for when we rescue her,”

    /The names of your father’s ravens/ you replied quickly. You could hear Nat’s question, though she couldn’t hear your answer.

    “Father’s ravens?” Loki’s attention went back to the screen, thinking over something. He was obviously distracted when he automatically referred to Odin as ‘father’, even if you had done it first. You had done it since you didn’t know what other words they may have used, what other orders they got into your mind.

    “Hugi-” Thor started. 

    Nat’s hand clapped over his mouth and she glared at Thor. “Don’t say them!” she hissed, nearly frantic while the rest of the team looked on confused. “We don’t want Loki going into a rampage like that,” she gestured at the screen, “because her mind is connected to his right now. You know damn well he’s been getting bleedthrough of the shit they’re doing to her because of her telepathic connection to him. We do not want to find out that they can make him go ballistic when she’s in his mind like this,”

    “How do you know that much about magic?” Cap asked her incredulously. She was a spy. She shouldn’t know anything about magic.

    Nat shrugged. “I know things, it’s what I do,” she reminded him as she removed her hand from Thor’s mouth.

    Loki’s attention was still on the screen, his mind working too quickly for you to follow to try to figure something out. “There,” he announced, pointing at the screen. “Stark, tell your Jarvis thing to make that bigger,” Loki jabbed urgently at the screen again.

    “J-” Tony started, but the image was already zooming in. Loki’s mind was racing when he saw the ravens on the screen. Loki was a tactician and a damn brilliant one that that. You felt his mind racing as he worked on a plan. “Are those-?”

    “Father’s,” Thor confirmed, staring at the birds on the screen. He looked over at Loki. “I know that look. What are you planning?” Thor asked, excited that Loki had a plan, that they would finally be making progress.

    “Give me a second,” Loki growled impatiently while he concentrated on his plan. “To speak the name is to summon the god. They are too afraid to speak my name, right, love?”

    /Right, it’s forbidden to be said in the compound. They’re terrified of you/

    “As well they should be,” he replied somewhat distractedly. He was still working through his plan, working through the implications of what he knew. “And everyone talks about Hammer-brain here all the time. Also I’ve seen rocks with more magical ability…”

    “Hey!”

    “I have,” Loki replied with a shrug. Thor huffed and grumbled. “But no one on Midgard speaks of or usually remembers the ravens. They’ll go spy if someone speaks of them, especially here. Spying is what they do,” Loki lit up as his plan solidified. He turned to Thor. “Brother, contact Father. Make him let us borrow the ravens. Whatever you have to do to convince him,” Thor nodded, but waited for the rest of the plan. “This is what we are going to do. Darling, pay attention, you’re have a part to play in this as well…”

    *

You came to slowly, your brain didn’t want to focus on reality. You wanted to hide. You wanted to die. You never ever wanted to think of all the people your hands had killed ever again, and yet, it was all you could think about.

    Your attention focused on the water. Why were you sitting in water? You were sitting in the bathtub in Bucky’s bathroom. Naked, as one usually is when one is in the bathtub. Bucky was scrubbing one of your arms roughly. You shrieked and scrambled to cover yourself with your hands.

    He sighed. “You couldn’t wake up before I had to put you in the bath, or after I got you out and to bed, now could you?” he grumbled, teasing, joking, trying to reassure that everything was ok. You were still freaking out and trying uselessly to cover yourself. “Calm down, Striga. I am perfectly well aware what a female body looks like. I have absolutely no interest in yours, except that it is currently covered in quite a lot of blood which I’d appreciate not having all over my blanket,” he grumbled at you.

    “You don’t- Nothing-” shit, you couldn’t find words.

    “Nothing happened. Steve can strike me down if that boyfriend of yours says I’m lying. If boyfriend doesn’t do it himself,” he couldn’t say Loki’s name either. It was forbidden, but he knew who Loki was. “You were still unconscious when we got off the jet. I was told to bring you here. I wasn’t putting you in the clean bed when you’re dripping blood. So, bath. But since you’re awake, you can damn well clean yourself,” he set the washcloth and bar of soap where you could reach them.

    “Bucky… I… Those people…” there were tears in your eyes already. He touched the top of your head, ruffled your hair, trying for comfort in his somewhat awkward way.

    “I know, Striga. Believe me, I know,” he would understand. They’d made him do at least equally bad things. “Get cleaned up. I left something on the counter for you to wear. You can talk about it when you’re dressed,” he told you and left before he had to stay in the room with a naked girl he wasn’t interested in and didn’t want to offend, you, Steve, Nat, or Loki with his presence while you were naked.

    You scrubbed hard at the blood on your skin, in your hair, on nearly every inch of you. Having a task kept your mind focused on things other than what you had done, on the scene of the bodies around you that had been burned into your brain.

    When you were finally clean, you stepped out of the bath, managed to pull the drain, and dressed in the simple sweats Bucky had left for you. You stepped into the other room and Bucky got up from where he was sitting on the bed. He was still awkward and shy, but he wrapped his big strong arms around you and let you weep into his chest as he held you.

    “I-I killed them,” you wailed, the image of the carnage reappearing in your mind.

    “No, Doll. You didn’t. Hydra did. Hydra has made us both do awful things. It’s not either of our faults for it.” He held you while you sobbed, tried to reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. That you weren’t a monster because of what you were made to do when you had no control over your actions. You sagged against him, emotionally and physically exhausted when your tears ran out. He settled you both in the bed. You managed to stay awake long enough to tell him about Loki and the team, about the upcoming plans and his part in them. “Doll, do me a favor? Keep that boyfriend of yours from killing me for seeing you naked and sleeping with you on the same day?”

    “He won’t kill you for taking care of me in his stead,” you told him exhaustedly, laying your head on his warm chest.

    “Sure he won’t…” Bucky said dryly, obviously not beliving you. He then began to distract you by telling you about Cap before the serum, old stories from when they were kids and Cap kept picking fights with bullies and getting his ass handed to him.

    *

    “Come on Striga, we only have an hour,” Bucky told you firmly, but his voice wasn’t gruff. It was kind, and worried as you both trudged through the snow. You’d left the Hydra agents behind and had an hour to complete your spy mission and return to them. You were already shivering less than ten minutes from where you’d left your babysitters behind. It was so cold you could barely move. All you wanted to do was lie down in the snow and go to sleep.

    “It’s so cold,” you told him through chattering teeth, your arms wrapped around yourself to try to keep warm. Bucky looked at you, saw how slowly you were moving, like a reptile in the cold. You were sluggish, barely able to keep trudging after him.

    He cursed and rushed back to you, stripping off his coat as he did and bundling it over you, overtop of the leather jacket over your stupid red dress. “You can’t regulate your own body temperature,” he said, remembering. You nodded and your teeth chattered. Your eyes were starting to close. “No, you can’t go to sleep. You can’t sit down. We have to keep moving,” he told you firmly. You looked up at him confused.

    “Can’t,” you told him and started to sit down. You just needed to rest for a minute.

    He cursed again. “We don’t have time. I’m sorry, Striga,” he told you and somehow swung you up onto his back so he was carrying you piggyback. Your arms around his neck. “Good thing you’re so little,” he teased, but you already felt better, pressed against his warm back. Whatever they did to make him strong like Cap made him warm like Thor too. He started moving while you laid your head on his shoulder, recharging with his warmth.

    He set you down awhile later at the location where you were supposed to be spying. “Stay here, make a fire to keep warm,” you hissed at that and he glared at you. “Make the damn fire. I’ll go do the mission and then we’ll call boyfriend’s birds here,” he told you. You nodded and gathered some wood from the nearby forest. It didn’t matter that the stuff was wet and covered in snow. You were lighting it with magic anyway. You sat dangerously close to the fire, trying to keep warm, keep functional. This was the first time you and Bucky were being sent on a mission without handlers, mostly because they didn’t want to trek through the snow and they trusted him, and more importantly the obedience disk in your neck to keep you in line.

    Loki and the team had a plan. You just had to wait a little longer.

    It wasn’t long before Bucky came back. He actually smiled when he saw you sitting by the fire. “I’m going to have to carry you all the way back,” he teased.

    “Good thing I’m so little,” you teased right back.

    “Ready?” he asked. You hesitated, but had to trust in Loki’s plan, and finally nodded. “Hugin, Munin,” Bucky said quickly before you could chicken out, before you could let fear of hurting him get the best of you. His words nearly ran together, but it was enough. You felt the trigger, though you’d been placing shields around that section of your mind at Loki’s instruction, been doing everything you could to keep the word from affecting you. Since the words were said so quickly, nothing bad happened.

    You heard the flapping of wings a short time later and looked up as the raven flew down and landed next to you. It cawed once and hopped up on your shoulder. “Hello, love,” it said with Loki’s voice, though it wasn’t a shapeshifted Loki. It was one of the ravens, though you didn’t know which one. It didn’t much matter. You’d told Bucky of the plan, so he wasn’t surprised by the talking raven, besides the usual mortal surprise that magic was in fact real. It always took a minute for non magic users to remember that magic was real and a thing.

    “Loki~” your voice was a loving sigh of relief, of such hope at finally being even this close. It was almost real, almost over. Just a little longer.

    “Soon, sweetheart. We’ll be there soon,” Loki’s voice promised from the raven’s beak.

    “Striga, we have to get going,” Bucky told you, his voice worried and urgent. “They’re expecting us back anytime now,”

    “We have to go back to the compound. Bucky can’t break his orders and they’ll hurt both of us if we don’t make it back in time. Will you be able to stay with us, or find us again?” you asked the raven, worried the plan was going to fall apart. You’d planned on having more time alone so the team could swoop in and rescue you without having to face down Hydra to do it.

    “No one will see the raven, not with my magic around it. It will come with you. Do what you must to stay safe. We’ll find you at the compound,” Loki reassured you through the raven. You sighed in relief and stood.

    “C’mon, Doll, let’s go,” Bucky told you. You threw snow over the fire and followed him, the raven still perched on your shoulder. You were shivering in minutes of the walk back to the agents. Bucky was wisely not carrying you without Loki seeing that it was actually necessary. He didn’t want to die.

    “Darling, make a little ball flame to keep you warm,” Loki told you.

    “I’m a vampire. I can’t play with that much fire,” you reminded him sourly.

    “You’re a pyrokinetic mage. You can control the flame. You just need a small ball of it. Put it in a shield if you’re concerned,” he reminded you patiently. He was such a patient teacher when it came to magic. You did as he suggested and cuddled the little shielded flame to your chest. The whole shield ball was warm because of the flame inside.

    “I love you,” you told Loki through the raven on your shoulder.

    “I love you as well, sweetheart. Just a little longer and we’ll have you home,”

    Home

    With your Loki

    You wanted nothing more in the whole world.

[thetygre]

Top 5 spooky Lovecraft moments? Not necessarily the big reveals or italicized sentences, but those little things, implications and bits of description that add to the proceedings.

Ooh boy. Some toughies. Not sure how well these fit what you were asking, but these are what I think of.

The High Priest Not to be Described

This guy takes a lower spot because of what an explicit encounter he is. He could be the subject of a horror story by himself (itself?), but he isn’t. He just pops up in Dreamlands stories. And I remember reading the Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath, and Carter encounters this guy and how disturbing it was. The entire Dreamlands always felt like this veneer of a fantasy kingdom over Lovecraft’s typical cosmic horror, and every now and then, not often, but every now and then the veneer would crack and you’d get that same familiar sense of dread. But it was never from the obvious stuff; it was never from Nyarlathotep or the Other Gods or anything like that. They played their part in the Dreamlands perfectly, they (or at least Nyarlathotep) mad sure they fit in. So it was little anomalous encounters that made the Dreamlands creepy. And the High Priest Not to be Described is the epitome of that for me.

R’lyeh’s Angles

One of the more memorable deaths in The Call of Cthulhu is when one of our poor red-shirt sailors gets killed by R’lyeh itself:

Parker slipped as the other three were plunging frenziedly over endless vistas of green-crustedrock to the boat, and Johansen swears he was swallowed up by an angle of masonry which shouldn’thave been there; an angle which was acute, but behaved as if it were obtuse. 

This detail actually tends to get remembered in most accounts of the story, but I just can’t stop thinking about. It’s such a one-off detail during the story’s climax. It says so much about R’lyeh itself; in R’lyeh, space does not obey the laws of our reality. Is this because R’lyeh’s engineering is so advanced? Is it because R’lyeh is not of this dimension? Both? I’ve always thought that maybe R’lyeh itself was alive somehow, and it woke up with Cthulhu. Or maybe R’lyeh is Cthulhu’s prison, and his awakening activates these dimensional traps, the only thing capable of slowing Cthulhu down. And where does the angle lead? Is Johansen dead? Or has he just been tossed through the multiverse to who knows where? All this from this one throwaway line.

The Colour’s Mutants

Lovecraft was born and died well before the advent of the atomic bomb. But when I read The Colour Out of Space and how the Colour itself affects the world around it, I can’t help but be reminded of something like nuclear radiation or Agent Orange. The animals affected by the Colour are never explicitly described (the closest we get is the mutant woodchuck), but just that there was“something not quite right about their nature and arrangement”. And that just leaves the window open to so many horrible possibilities. It’s just this understated, casual observation of “Hey, it’s just some horrible mutants running around. Not much going on around here. Just something sickening the land and filling it with alien energy. Birds flying low this season. Probably from all the extra ears.”

The Cat from The Rats in the Walls

Ok, but everybody shut up about the name for a sec. Because, legit, I got something from the cat. I don’t know how to describe it; I just got something ominous from the cat. The cat is there through the whole story, watching the guy constantly, just being how cats be. But then the cat rushes into the underground city ahead of his owner. The cat doesn’t run back to safety, it doesn’t climb up back to the house; it goes deeper into the darkness. And I always kind of thought it was like the cat was leading the guy deeper, like it wanted him to follow him, to drive him into insanity. And in that context, the cat almost becomes like Poe’s The Raven; kind of this animal of doom that isn’t explicitly evil, but plays off the narrator’s own madness to lead him to self-destruction.

The Moon Marsh

C’mon, you had to know this one was coming. All it takes is a setting; a marsh at night, lit only by the moon. The narrator is alone, except for a subway car. To me, it was the subway car that sealed the deal. Something that associated with urban life in the middle of nowhere at night is inherently unsettling, like seeing a shopping cart in a forest. The subway car tells us that we are not in Kansas and that we might not ever be able to go back. Just in that one descriptive paragraph, Lovecraft does what it took Kubrick half of The Shining to do and sets up a spooky, surreal atmosphere where Something Is Wrong.

[rootindiahealthcare]

Nomophobia : Mobile Phone Uses Lead To Health Risk

Mobile phone uses connected with various health risk  Does the “ding” of your phone have you ever dropping no matter you’re doing to envision United Nations agency “liked” your latest Facebook status? Are you responsive work emails before rubbing the sleep from your eyes? will a coffee battery icon leave you quivering in fear? You, my friend, are probably affected by nomophobia.

Nomowhat?

Nomophobia is that the concern of being while not your smartphone, or a lot of merely smartphone addiction, and it’s a “first world problem” that’s showing no signs of speed down, despite age. And whereas it would sound silly — are you able to extremely be passionate about a hand-held device? — the implications are real. About 1/2 U.S. adults are checking their phone a minimum of many times an hour, with eleven percent sound their screen awake each couple of minutes. (1) No house is safe from the push of a replacement tweet, either. Almost one in ten Americans have admitted to victimization their phone throughout sex. And among young adults ages eighteen to thirty-four, the amount is even higher: one in five have engaged with their smartphone once they’re in between the sheets.   (2) Is it a surprise, then, that twelve % suppose that smartphones are prejudicious to relationships? When you mix nomophobia with cars, things get even scarier. Among Yankee adult drivers, quite twenty-seven percent have sent or scan a text whereas driving. Among young adults, that variety shoots up to thirty-four percent. What’s the hurt in interacting together with your phone at a red light-weight or once traffic is heavy? take into account the very fact that text electronic communication whereas driving makes a crash twenty-three times a lot of probably. The injury that Nomophobia will … Let’s Count how Even for those folks United Nations agency doesn’t text and drive, nomophobia has serious consequences. 1. You’re dalliance While several folks are convinced that multitasking permits us to induce a lot of doing, the solution is multitasking doesn’t work. Not solely are our brains not equipped to handle 2 dissimilar tasks promptly, however attempting to accomplish many things promptly lands up wasting longer than saving any. Think about it: however well does one retain data once someone’s reprimand you as you’re scrolling through emails or observation the most recent cat video your friend posted? although your body is during an area, it’s simple to miss vital data once your brain is in other places fully. Plus, let’s face it: nobody likes reprimand somebody who’s “listening” with their face buried during a screen. 2. You’re a lot of anxious Not having your phone around will increase anxiety. One British study found that fifty-one percent of participants suffer “extreme technical school anxiety” once separated from their smartphones. a number of that stems from feeling that, if we’re except our phones, we tend to won’t be enclosed once friends create plans or won’t understand what the most recent Facebook culture is. Even our bodies are getting down to acknowledge once our phones aren’t around. A University of Missouri study discovered that iPhone users United Nations agency compound with their devices throughout things that need a big quantity of attention, like taking a check or finishing a piece assignment, may end in poorer performance. (4) That’s as a result of, once participants were separated from their phones then asked to complete easy word search puzzles, their heart rates and pressure level exaggerated — as did their feelings of hysteria and unpleasantness. 3. You’re not sleeping likewise “Check email one last time, confirm no friends announce something fascinating, one last look of Instagram … Buckeye State waits, a replacement work email came in. Darn it, that afternoon meeting got pushed up. Did I prepare enough for it? ought to I review things an added time? Wait, it’s late already. I assume I’ll simply suppose it for the future unit of time whereas I toss and switch attempting to sleep off.” Sound familiar? Being inundated with stimulating data right before bed usually means that you can’t sleep well, notably once we’re conferred with things on the far side our management. And most folks are sleeping with our phones. In nearly all ages cluster, a minimum of forty percent of American citizens off their phone within sight. For that twenty-five to twenty-nine years recent, the number’s even higher: nearly eighty % are petting up to their device.  The danger isn’t solely that every beep long has the potential to wake the U.S.A. up. Smartphones additionally emit a “blue” light-weight, signal to our brain that it’s time to come to life. Blue lights suppress hormone, the secretion that dictates our sleep rhythms. Yes, the struggle to eff your phone is real. 4. Your children are discovering your naughty habits “Do as I state, not as I do” is only too real once it involves smartphone time. while oldsters raise children and youths to {put} off Snapchat or put their phones down throughout dinner, they’re checking calendars, responsive texts or pampering in one last game of Candy Crush. It stands to reason than that, in nearly every study of smartphone use, young adults the best usage rates. kids are learning that invariably being connected is traditional — and missing out on the importance of human-to-human interaction. Signs You’re passionate about Your Smartphone: Sure, some individuals with no self-control can be passionate about their smartphones. however, are you one in each of them? If any of those apply to you, all signs purpose to addiction. You reach for your smartphone upon arousal and right before bed. It’s not uncommon for you to catch au courant emails or the most recent within the news whereas you’re intake. When your phone is out of reach, low on battery or (gasp) fully turned off, you are feeling anxious or stressed. Being out of mobile phone signal causes you to want you may be missing one thing. You live for that next Instagrammable moment. Pavlov’s dogs don't have anything on you: once you hear that acquainted text-sound, you perk up. You’ve checked your phone a minimum of once whereas reading this article! Yup. I assumed so! It’s ok, though. We’re beat this along.   Your 5-Step arrange to End Your Smartphone Addiction Now that we’ve conquered the primary step, admitting there’s a retardant, it’s time to fight this factor. Follow these steps to relish a life that’s complemented, not ruled, by your smartphone. 1. Shut down your mobile phone a minimum of AN hour before bed Allow your brain to unwind And attempt to turn off your phone an hour before the time of day. meaning off, not simply on silent. Those vibrations and blinking lights are still harmful, as is knowing that you’re only one reach far from seeing the most recent. Remember, nomophobia ne'er sleeps and neither can you. No marvel numerous folks are invariably tired, huh? If you have got a legitimate reason for keeping your phone on — your female offspring is out with friends or your oldsters are senior and you don’t have a telephone line — flip your phone on “do not disturb” and place your phone on the opposite facet of the area. during this mode, your phone can silence all notifications, however, enable you to alter exceptions, like a call from a selected variety. Remember: Seeing what number “likes” your last Instagram post received isn't a legitimate reason. “But I exploit my phone as my watch,” you say. “I want it nearby!” to it I respond…. 2. Stop shacking up together with your phone Get a true watch (yes, you'll still realize these Stone Age relics). Not solely can this enable you to show off your phone fully long (again, unless you wish to remain on alert for a friend and don’t have a landline), however rather than arousal with the temptation to envision what you lost long, you'll pay the primary moments of the morning stretching, puzzling over what’s on schedule for the day or essentially doing something apart from checking your phone. For additional credit, I challenge you to not flip your phone on once more till your morning routine is finished: you’ve showered, dressed, eaten up breakfast, perhaps even scan the paper (remember that pastime!) and pushed the youngsters out the door. 3. Set certain times to see your phone Do you need to appear at every single email the second it’s received? Save your saneness and at the same time facilitate your productivity by designating sure times to look at your smartphone. For instance, you may need to try and do a five-minute sweep of your social networks and email right before sitting down at your table to do work, then hide your phone away for a future hour, once you take a five-minute break. Structuring your operating hours around short breaks helps you agree into your task while not distractions for an amount of your time, whereas knowing that a “break” is simply round the corner. Additionally, once the workday is over, provide yourself a group length of your time that you’re allowed to see something work-related. perhaps once dinner (and well before bedtime!) you permit yourself ten minutes to review any messages which may have are available in or want your attention. And this is often the time to be discerning: If it’s not one thing that needs your attention right this second (i.e. a million-dollar deal can founder if you don’t answer that email), it will wait till morning. 4. Establish phone-free zones I know I can’t be the sole one who’s horror-stricken that smartphones are disrupting individuals throughout intimate moments. thereupon aforementioned, designating sure places and times as phone-free zones may be a good way to tackle nomophobia. Mealtimes are a decent place to start: rather than scrolling and chew, you'll observe aware intake and interesting speech. It’s additionally a first-rate chance to line An example for kids; they’ll see you worth speech and sensible food over responding to your phone’s each ring. And please, simply say no to phones in bed. 5. have interaction in real human contact Finally, rather than “connecting” with friends and family over social media, attempt defrayment some real-time with them. rather than “liking” your cousin’s standing, decision him up to listen to the story primary (gasp!). got wind of a low date to catch up with friends rather than that cluster text. Send a thoughtful card to a faraway friend. We’re social creatures United Nations agency thrive on real human interaction. That’s one thing a smartphone simply can’t replicate. Read the full article

[cygnetofthesea]

Leaving Normal: Chapter 6

Sooo, I’ve recently realized that while I’ve been updating this story on ff.net and ao3.org, I’ve neglected to update on tumblr, whoops :D So, I’ll be posting 6-8 right after each other.  So, if anyone is still interested in the story, good news :P

Thank you to @allthelittlelostgirlsgrowup for being fabulous beta reader through it all!!

For those who want to read on the sites, here are the linkies:

Leaving Normal on AO3

Leaving Normal on ff.net

In this chapter, Emma is still reeling from the aftermath of the shooting and how Killian saved her life.  Things get worse when she potentially finds out something even more disturbing about Killian and his family.  Dun dun dunn...

The next morning Emma was still consumed with thoughts of Killian.   Her mind never strayed away from him--his intense blue eyes that saw more than he let on, the warmth of his hand against her face, the light puff of his breath against her skin, and the glowing love that pulsed in his blood for her.  She vividly remembers the way her heart had raced--the way his heart had raced and his stomach had fluttered every time he would see her in school.  The way an accidental brush of the hands in bio lab had caused his heart to stop and warmth to spread across his chest.  All because of her.

She was remembering his face in her dreams when Robin approaches Emma at her locker.  

The sound of scraping metal jarrs her out of her thoughts as Robin heavily leans against the locker next to her.  "Hey Emma, look I'm sorry about yesterday and the whole intervention thing.  Ruby made it sound like you were in some kind of trouble and I should have known it's her usual theatrics," he smiles at her abashed.

"Robin, it's totally fine," she said, brushing off his apology.  "You and Ruby were just worried."

"Right, I mean she's my best friend and you're my best friend so I just needed to make sure everything was all clear in the air."  He reached over and holds her by her arms looking into her eyes.  "And you're sure you're alright?  I mean the bloody order pad was freaky but you look unharmed to me,” he says giving her a little shake, “and that's all that matters."

Emma grips Robin's shoulders in mock seriousness, looking back at him severely.  "Yes Robin, I'm alright."

"Ok, good," he chuckles before letting go.  "Just had to make sure.  I'm sure Ruby will get over her imaginations."

"Yeah," Emma agreed weakly.  She doubted Ruby would let go of this.   Once she was onto something it was like taking a human from a wolf.

"So anyway, Regina Mills was looking at me earlier today.  A few times too.  What's up with that?"  Robin said as they headed toward their class.  

"She was what?" Emma asks, startled by this.  Regina hardly ever gave a boy a second glance unless they were one of her dates and even then she seemed to absorbed in her own thing as they tried to fruitlessly keep her attention.

"Yeah, I don't know.  I mean, hey, I don’t mind but she looked all mystified and narrow-eyed.  Kind of scary but kinda hot too," he shrugged.

"O-kay, Robin," Emma chuckled.  "But, I don’t know.  Maybe she just thinks you're interesting."  She was definitely bending the truth and Emma suspected the real reason had little to do with romantic interest.

"Ooh really."

Emma shrugged nonchalantly, but the truth was Regina was most likely looking at Robin in trepidation.  She had given Ruby a wary eye as well and Emma could only assume she was scoping out whether Emma had told her best friends.  "Who knows.  But, my advice?  Don't think too much on it, yeah?"

"Sure, sure," Robin said distractedly  Emma turned to look at him and saw his gaze on Regina who he had spotted entering the classroom down the hall from theirs.

Emma rolled her eyes and grabbed Robin's arm, pulling him into their classroom with her.  "Come on, lover boy."

He broke out of his daze when they entered the classroom and noted her bag.  "Hey, new backpack?" Robin asked gesturing to her satchel slung across her body.

"Oh no, I just misplaced my other one.  Have you seen it by the way? I don't remember where I left it and haven't been able to check the gym locker."  Emma tried not to worry too much about her missing bag.  It carried her tarnished waitress uniform and if it fell into the wrong hands--well, she didn't want to think about that.  She just had to hope like hell someone hadn’t found it.  

Robin shrugged.  "Pretty sure, I saw it with you at the end of the day yesterday.  But, I'm sure it'll turn up.  Not many places it can be, really."

"That's what I thought too," Emma murmured.  "Yeah, hopefully."

Emma and Robin sit beside each other near the door and settle in as the second bell rang.  Her thoughts were distracted by Robin's presence but now that there was a moment of quiet, she couldn't help but feel antsy with the reminder of her missing backpack.  She just hoped Robin was right and that it would turn up.

"Ms. Swan?" Emma looks up to see her teacher approaching before bending down to her level.  "There's someone to see you in the guidance office," she said in a whisper, handing her a pass.

Emma furrows her eyebrow in confusion before carefully takes the pass before standing up. Robin looks up curiously but only says. "I'll get your notes, don't worry."

She smiles tightly in reply as she walks away with her things.  The short walk to the guidance office felt oddly long and like a death march toward hell.  She enters the office with the pass gripped tightly in her hand to see Sheriff Arendelle seated behind the guidance counselor's desk, who was standing beside the door.

"Emma, I just got off the phone with your parents and they have agreed to let Sheriff Arendelle ask you further questions about what happened at the diner yesterday.  Since you're only required to recount the day's events, your parents' presence aren't necessary, however I may act as a proxy if that would make you feel comfortable.  Would you like for me to stay with you?" her guidance counselor asked thoughtfully.   Emma looked between her counselor and Ingrid, unsure as to whether she should go with what made her most comfortable or what was most safe for Killian.  In the end, she decided on safety first.  The less people suspected or knew anything about Killian's involvement in the incident, the better.

"That's ok, Ms. Midas.  I'll be fine on my own and I'm sure it won't be long.  Right, Sheriff Arendelle?"

"Oh, not long at all," she reassured in her soft voice, her icy blue eyes--so different from Killian's--looked back at her with a knowing gaze.

"Well, alright then, I'll just be outside in the main office then."   And with those parting words, Ms. Midas left leaving Emma alone with the good sheriff.

"Afternoon, Miss Swan.  Have a seat," she gestured to the chair in front of the desk she was standing beside.  Emma slowly sat down as Ingrid began pulling out a file.

"I'm sorry to have to show you these, but I'm trying to piece together what happened and this is all part of the investigation."

"What investigation, exactly?" Emma asked, swallowing down the lump in her throat and forcing herself to remain casual.

"Why, what happened at the diner last night, of course.  We still haven't found the two men.  It would appear they were just passing through town, but I may have a lead."

Emma looked up into her eyes, noticing the raise in her eyebrows, the subtle change in breathe and the stillness in her body.  She didn't know the sheriff personally, but she couldn't help but feel a lie in the midst.

"Ok, what do I have to look at?"

Sheriff Arendelle pulled out the what looked like photographs and laid them one by one on the desk in front of Emma.  Emma resisted the urge to shrink back into her seat at the sight before her.

"These are images of a man that was found dead with no apparent cause of death except for that," she said pointing to an image that was a close-up of the man's chest.  The image was in black and white, but Emma knew the handprint that was splayed across his chest was the same silver that was now on stomach.  Her breath caught in her throat and she suddenly felt a chill up her spine, a niggle of doubt taking root at the back of her mind.

"What do you make of that mark," she continued in her dream-like tone.

Emma shook her head, "I've never seen anything like that before,” she said even as her heart pattered against her ribs.  

Sheriff Arendelle nodded as if expecting the response.  "Miss. Swan, I'm sure you're aware that Graham is my nephew.  He told me that he saw a similar mark on you the other night."

"He was wrong," was all she said her gaze flitting from her eyes to the picture again.  November 16, 1956.  How could that be? Now, Emma's thoughts were elsewhere.  She had been worried about exposing Killian but she was beginning to think he was keeping something from her, something crucial.

"Maybe.  But, yes I suppose hearsay is less believable than evidential proof.  I'm going to have to see it for myself."

Emma let out a breath, "What?  Isn't that--I mean, that doesn't seem appropriate, Sheriff."

"Think of it as an annual physical examination.  Students have them yearly and I think it's with good reason one would be required of you in particular after your ordeal."

"I'm fine, Sheriff.  I mean, I said that the day it happened.  I just spilled ketchup, I said it a thousand times."  She tried not to sound defensive and annoyed.  

"Please, Emma."

Emma shifted in her seat nervously and conflicted.  She knew she could get out of this, it’s not as though they would be able to force her, but she also knew the implication of her resistance--she had something to hide. And maybe, just maybe, it was a good idea for the sheriff to know now after seeing the gruesome pictures.  There was a strange feeling in her gut that she couldn’t quite define.  As a scientist, she should go with evidence and evidence has been used to prove facts, but as a detective she should go with her instincts and he instincts are telling her that there had to be more to the story than what she was seeing.  

Emma stood up and carefully lifted her blouse, her heart thudding rapidly in her chest.

Sheriff Arendelle's eyebrows furrowed in suspicion before sighing and leaning back against the bookshelf against the wall.  "According to the reports," she said gesturing at the photos with her head, "the mark on the man's chest disappeared after approximately eighteen hours."

Emma looked down at her bare stomach to see that it was completely unmarred as though the silver hand print never existed. She quickly dropped her blouse in relief and looked up at the sheriff who was scrutinizing her.

"What do you know about Killian Jones?" she asked suddenly.

"Uh, not much really.  He's been a classmate since the first grade.   Nice kid, I hear," Emma said, trying to offer as little as possible.

"Uh-huh, and was--"

"I don't understand what this is all about," Emma interrupted.  "I don't see how Killian Jones has to do with the shooting or this man that you're showing me dead pictures of.  Can I go home now?" she added harshly.

The sheriff looked at Emma, her gaze unwavering as always before finally nodding once.  Emma didn't wait a second before walking toward the door.

"Oh and Emma?  Someone found this.  Believe it belongs to you?"

Emma turned around to see the sheriff stand up with her backpack and walk toward her with it, holding it out.

"Right, thanks," Emma quickly muttered before grabbing her bag and finally walking out of the sheriff's line of steely vision.  She took a moment to breath and searched her bag.  Her uniform was gone.

***

Emma scours the hall, looking for any signs of Killian.  Her heart beats rapidly against her ribs as she walks aimlessly during the last period of the day.  She spots a few classmates that she shares with Killian, none of which knew of his whereabouts.  She supposed it shouldn't surprise her as much considering his habits of keeping to himself but there must be someone who has seen him in some class.  She just about gives up before finally coming across someone who actually knew.

"Uh, yeah Jones?  He has wrestling with one of my buddies at the Triple Gym.  Probably there."  The boy looked bemused as though shocked by the sight of someone actually seeking out the school recluse.

She barely called out a thanks as she sped toward the gymnasium.   There were at least twenty boys in the gym all paired up and wearing the same P.E. clothes but it didn't take Emma long to spot his shock of dark hair as he pinned his sparring partner against the mat. He looks up just then, spotting her.  His partner takes advantage of his distraction and quickly flips him over into a pin.

"Never let your eyes off your opponent, Jones!  Not until the three seconds are up," the coach calls out.

Emma walks the short distance to Coach Frederickson.  "Hi Coach, I was asked to escort Killian to the attendance office."

Coach Frederickson nodded distractedly, keeping his eyes on a pair of wrestlers that looked as though they were about to pummel each other for real.  "Sure thing, he's all yours."

Emma nodded her thanks walking away with a backward glance to Killian, making sure he followed.  Once they were out of the gym, Emma felt a shiver run up her back as she realized what she was doing.  She was walking into an empty room with a potential killer.  But, another look at Killian's confused face made her walk into the nearest empty classroom.

"Ok, Killian, I need answers and this time details would be great," she said without preamble.  She let her anger at being deceived drive her words.

"Yeah sure," Killian replied closing the door behind him.  "What's this about?"

Emma paused, taking a moment to gather her thoughts as she scrutinized him.  She knows what she saw in the picture and logically with the facts that she was given it could only mean one thing, but looking into Killian's bright blue eyes that were showing nothing but affection--how had she missed that all this time--mixed with curiosity, she couldn't help the gut feeling that there had to be more to the story.  But, she pushed it aside because he definitely hadn't told her the whole story.

"It's about you.  I want to know everything from the very beginning. Starting from the moment you came onto Earth.  I mean, where did you even come from, Killian?  You said out there in space, but where exactly?"

Killian looked at her concerned for a moment before answering.  "I don't know.  All I know was that there was some kind of crash and we were found on the dessert."

"We?" Emma asked before it clicked into place.  "Regina.  She's like you too."

"And Victor."

Emma looked at him shock.  "Victor Whale?  Regina, I had suspected since you two were adopted together, but Victor…"

"Yeah, we lost him in the desert," Killian nodded.  "But, we were later reunited in the orphanage and got lucky that someone in Storybrooke took him in."

"Wow." Emma took in the new piece of information before remembering her next question.

"Killian, the crash happened in 1947, but you're sixteen.  How is that possible?"

"From what we can tell, the three of us were in these incubation pods where we came out of and soon after we were found and lived like normal humans.  We don't know anything about where we came from, who we were or anything from that other life."

Emma shook her head, frustrated as she began to pace. The numbers didn't add up.  If Killian and the others came out the pods--she can't believe the words are actually passing through her mind--in 1989, then they couldn't have been around in 1956 when the man had been killed.

"Um, Killian," she began slowly, "is it possible that there are more of you guys out there?  Maybe someone else that came to Earth with you and got lost somewhere?"

Killian furrowed his eyebrows.  "No, we never knew of anyone else coming with us.  Why?"

She still had so many questions, but this was the most important one.  "Because the sheriff showed me some pictures today, Killian.  Pictures of a man who had the same handprint on his chest that I had on my stomach after you healed me.  Only he was dead.  The picture was marked 1959.  How is that possible, Killian?" Emma asked shaking her head.

Killian's eyes widened as he stood perfectly still.  He shook his head slowly, "That's not possible.  Are you sure you saw it right?"

"Yes, it definitely said 1959.  Killian, the reason she showed it to me is because…I think she suspects you."

Emma watched carefully as Killian stiffened and his jaw clenched as he stared off.  "Killian, what--"

"I have to go."  He quickly rushes to the door as Emma follows behind.  She makes it out the door but gets swept in the crowd heading toward the Crash Festival.  "Wait, Killian!" she calls out.  "Killian!"

But, it's too late.  He was already out of sight.

Thanks for making it to the bottom and let me know what you think!