#something ruthless as that one review put it

[loveandthings11]

Jeremy Strong for Newsweek, 3/26/23

Not well and unsettled.

"Please, let him get what he wants this time."

So what does satisfy? Love?

[xmalereader]

Simon Riley x High Ranking! Male Reader

☆ — MASTERLIST — ☆

Requested: Could I request a Ghost x male reader story. Male reader is also in the Task Force 141 as a high ranking officer. He never goes out on the field with the others. Ghost and male reader know each other for a long time and are together. (You can decide if they are married , etc). So reader is very shy and has an innocent and introverted aura. (Wears glasses, barely talks etc.) That’s also why they all were surprised when they found out that Ghost and Reader are together, because Ghost is… well Ghost. So, the reader defects to Makarov and because of the reader Makarov succeeds. So the 141 ‘hates’ reader and sees him as a traitor. So Ghost has to decide, if he is loyal to the Task Force or his lover. [You can decide what happens of course and also if reader survives and etc. Just don’t make a twist were reader goes back to 141 or kills Makarov :) ]

WARNINGS/ CONTENT: Language, angst, hurt/no comfort, specific details to reader, Soap being soap, mentions of Makarov, MW3 mentions, slight fluff, more dialogue, betrayal, simon is ruined.

WC: 3.4K

TAGS: @dzeilan

NOTES: I may have over done it with this fix but at least I got it finished 😂 but anyways hope you enjoy this request! I tried my best to keep it angsty and tempted to make a second part but for now I’m putting it in the maybe drafts. I decided to end it in a semi cliff hanger!

Task Force 141 was monitored and by someone above Price. Not many people knew who it was but they didn’t hear stories about the man being ruthless to his team, always giving them the hardest missions and dealing with the most deadliest and dangerous people. Everyone thought figured that he was a cold blooded man who stayed cooped up in his own office, never leaving or joining the field like the rest of the others. That’s. how everyone saw him.

When in reality he was the total opposite which surprised the 141.

In reality he was quiet and only spoke with authority when meeting up with the team, but when alone he was very closed up and not very social with the others, keeping to himself and not getting close with the others. Y/n had heard the gossip floating around about him and usually ignored it. He was a higher ranking than anyone else and could have easily found a way to stop the murmuring, but he wasn’t that power drunk to do something stupid.

Only his team knew what he was really like, he’s spent enough time with Price that he’s warmed up to the captain, always addressing him as ‘sir’ each time they meet only for Y/n to remind Price that he doesn’t need to call him that whenever they were alone and considered the man as a friend. Price was actually the one who approached him about building a team of his own, wanting his approval and guidance.

Y/n was surprised by this and intrigued by what he had in mind. When Price showed him the files of the people he wanted in his team, he can’t help but hide his small grin when his eyes land on a familiar name, finding it funny that he would be the boss to his own deadly boyfriend that everyone feared, wearing that scary mask that only made his silence much more deadly and intimidating for others.

He had told Price that he wanted to review the files first before giving an official approval, getting the time that he needed to review each soldier that he chose and memorizing every little thing about them and finding them impressive by the second. It didn’t take long for him to approval Price’s team and granting the man permission to gather them up and move on with a mission regarding Hassan during that time.

As much as Y/n hated being out in public and in front of others he had no choice but to be present during the time that Hassan was terrorizing the world. Many other soldiers had a chance to finally see who the scary man was only to grow confused when they saw him for the first time, wearing glasses while he squints at some paper work and maps, trying to figure out Hassans next location or if could find any other information regarding the man.

He would stay up all day and night looking for anything to help him, cooping himself up in his office with papers scattered around and computer opened as he did his own research. How he received a high ranking title he will never know, but his skills brought him this far.

Those quiet nights when everyone is sleeping a shadow creeps inside his own room, hovering over him from where he sat. He can feel their presence and doesn’t move his eyes from the computer. “If you are here to force me into bed, then I will have to decline.” He speaks up, hearing a familiar chuckle and tilts his head back to find Simon standing over him, hands on the back of his chair as he wore that skull mask over his face, gear gone and leaving him in black clothing and a jacket.

“You’ve been working day and night with no sleep.”

“How do you know I haven’t slept?” Y/n raised a brow and lowers his head to focus back on his computer screen only for Simon to place his fingers around his neck, using his index finger to tilt his head back in a gentle manner as he stares down at the man.

“You have bags under your eyes.” He moves his fingers up his cheek and grazed his finger under his glasses near his eye, noticing the lack of sleep from his own lover. “You know I can’t sleep.”

Simon lets him go and sighs as he watched his lover focus back on his work and moving maps around as Simon watched him from behind. “You won’t lose anything if you sleep.”

“But Hassan—“

“Is out of sight. For now.” Simon cuts in, using his own authority voice on his lover in order to get some sense into him. The two have been dating for about a year now, keeping it on the down low and preventing anyone from finding out. Y/n over ranked Simon and doesn’t know how the others would react when finding out that he’s dating their deadly weapon. He knows that Simon cares for him and his health and wants to make sure that he at least gets some rest.

“Fine…” He mumbled out and with that Simon reaches over to close his computer the room grows dim and the only light shinning through the window is the moonlight. “Time for bed.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You sure act like one.” Said Simon, chuckling at his own words which makes Y/n roll his eyes and cracks a tired smile. He gets off his chair and follows Simon to bed as the other soldier helps him out by removing his glasses first and setting them on the desk with the rest of his stuff and gets him into bed.

These nights are special to them since its the only time that they are able to spend time together without getting caught, having to sneak around like high school teenagers in order to avoid any trouble, but sooner or later they’d have to let the rest of their team know. As he snuggled up against Simon he lets out a deep sigh, feeling exhausted from all the work his mind was all over the place thinking about the mission and the things that could be happening without their knowledge, but they had no ability into knowing it.

“Stop thinking.”

“Can’t help it.” Y/n mumbled out in the dead of night.

The silence of the base was killing him and he hated it. “Your thoughts are loud.”

“You telling me that you can read minds?” Y/n raised a brow at Simon while chuckling. “If I could read minds I would have gotten to Hassan by now.” He did have a point.

Y/n lies his head on Simons chest and taps his fingers against his stomach as he thinks. “I just worry for everyone and I’d feel guilty it something happened to you and everyone else.” When Y/n received such a high ranking he didn’t expect the amount of stress to come with it since he was in charge of his own team and deciding the fate of the mission. When he got his first team he had to take multiple risks, almost costing him the lives of his own soldiers which devastated him.

There were times that he wanted to leave his rank to get rid of the guilt that he felt only to learn that he couldn't’ always save everyone even if he tried.

“Not everyone can be saved, Y/n. It takes one life to save millions.”

But it also takes one mistake to risk millions.

After last nights reassurance, Y/n is able to work a lot better all thanks to Simon in forcing him to sleep. Tracking their target was getting easier, finding the locations and sending in the proper help in order to get rid of the missiles that were lost. It wasn’t until Shepherds betrayal that they were separated.

Y/n had lost communication with his team and Simon, stuck back in base where the shadow company was taking over Alejandro’s people. He caught on quickly when chaos erupted in base, collecting his things quickly and hiding them in the vents and getting his own gun ready when facing the shadow company.

Even though Y/n looked like an innocent man due to how quiet he is around others he was also deadly when others were in danger getting through the halls and gunning down anyone who came after him, not hesitating to fight back as he sneaks around the halls and onto the second floor where he makes his escape, he uses one of the shadow companies uniforms to get through the base without being noticed, making it through the gates and towards their radio station.

He uses it to communicate with the rest of his team, checking up on them and hoping that they are still alive. His anxiety spiked when he doesn’t get a response fearing the worst has happened to Simon, fearing that he’s lost the one person he loved. He wasn’t one for crying, but the lack of response was bringing him to tears, close to giving up and heading back down to hunt Graves down.

“Are you crying?”

Y/n gasps, turning around quickly with his gun out when coming face to face with Soap. “Soap.” He sighs in relief to see him alive as he lowers his gun, ready to scold the man only to see Simon climbing over the wall along with Rudy. His eyes widen when the land on Simon. “Simon…” He shoves Soap aside who's left flabbergasted and makes a beeline towards Simon, not hesitating to hug the man and sniffling against his shoulder. “You dumb bastard, why didn’t you answer? I thought you were dead!” He was mad at Simon for making him worry.

Simon smiles under his mask and warps his own arms around Y/n, relieved to see him too. “We got caught up trying to get here.” He responds back, pulling away and cup his cheeks and cleans his tears away unaware of the audience.

“Uh, what the hell is going on?” Soap finally decides to speak up by this shocking discovery.

It wasn’t until after they rescued Alejandro that Y/n tells his team about his and Simons relationship when regrouping. He expected Soap to be shocked by the news while Gaz and Price technically already knew about the relationship but never said anything about it until further confirmed. Y/n couldn’t be happier to have them.

“So what do we do about Graves?”

Everyone turns to look at Y/n waiting for him to make the final call only for Y/n to surprise everyone by his response.

“Do whatever you want.”

He lets Price take the lead on this one, coming up with plans to get rid of Graves and his men after what he did to them. Y/n remains at the safe house along with the others, guiding them through the coms where he was safer and giving out clear orders on Graves location when they all went back to base.

The entire day was hectic, taking down Graves and Hassan on the same day and recovering the last missile gaining a victory. Everyone was finally able to relax and head back home to rest before being called out to another mission. Things were fine until they weren’t.

After a year since their last mission, Y/n had spent most of his time at base, helping out with the simple things and helping Price out as always. Until he received anonymous messages through his private number the only one who knew his number was Simon along with Price and the others and no one else. He received the text the day that Simon went out with the others for a drink, staying back home to relax for a bit until eh got that message.

He was about to ignore it until private information about him and his entire team was sent to him, threatening him to listen or else his friends faced the consequences. Y/n would have taken action to find out who was messaging him and take them down quickly only to realize that this person knew far more than anyone about him and Simon. He was forced to keep these message hidden from Simon if he wanted to prevent a lose.

Y/n knew that Simon was smart and would slowly grow suspicious by his constant phone checking and the amount of times that he’d flinch out of fear when receiving those messages. Simon wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, especially with his lover but the amount of time that he kept his distance was slowly irritating him.

Simon was able to corner him in his office when back at base after finding out about Makarovs escape. “Somethings wrong.” He points out, getting Y/n’s attention as he leans back against the wall that he’s caged in. “Nothings wrong.” Y/n couldn’t allow Simon to know that was responsible for Makarovs escape at the prison.

“You’ve been distant and quiet.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not this quiet.” Simon knew him well enough to see the smallest changes.

Y/n’s anxiety grows by the second as Simon looks him dead in the eyes. “I’m worried about Makarov.” He blurts out, trying to throw Simon off from his real worry. “The most dangerous man escaped and we can be facing something far bigger and I’m worried on what we have planned.” He continues on, noticing how Simon finally relaxes when getting an answer even though it wasn’t the truth.

“Will get him and stop him before anything else happens.”

“And if we can’t?” Y/n wants to tell Simon the truth, but he can’t risk losing him. “We will.” He feels his gloved fingers caress his cheek as a way of soothing his worries.

“Now lets figure out how to take down Makarov.”

Y/n spent the last hour listening to Price form out the plan, memorizing every little detail in order to report it back to Makarov. It took him some time to figure out that the man he’s been communicating with was none other than Makarov, threatening him and his friends for information about their plans to stopping him. As guilty as he felt doing this behind their backs, behind Simon’s back he had no choice but to do it.

After their meet up he’d find a way to communicate with the Russian man sending him everything he knew about their plans only to get a response back from with a notification of millions of dollars being transferred to his banking account. That pushes him over the edge, his anger getting to him as he throws his phone against the wall, smashing it into pieces as he groans in anger. He was doing this to save his friends not for money and yet Makarov goes and pushes all the right buttons.

Because of Makarov the transfer was shown under the list of information trading. When Simon and Soap were sent to interrogate Milena about Makarovs next location they were expecting themselves to find some answers only to come up with more questions when Y/n’s name shows up on the list.

Soap is the first to point it out to Simon when it shows up on the computer. The two refuse to believe that Y/n had been communicating with Makarov only for Milena to laugh at the two.

“Why do you think Makarov isn’t here? It’s all thanks to your little birdie on the inside.” Her own lips form a mischievous grin when Soap glanced over to Simon who remained quiet under his mask, clearly processing everything and denying the fact that his own lover would turn their backs on them. On him.

“You’re wrong.”

Milena raised a brow as she crossed her arms. “Am I?’ She questions. “He told Makarov that you were coming for him, told him about the plans and the bombings and now he knows about the stations.”

Simon stops himself from killing the women, not believing a word she’s saying only to think back to their previous failed missions. Every time they were close to getting Makarov he always escaped them clearly finding a way around the problem as if he knew about them. Simon left the island fuming, anger boiling inside of him as they flew back to Makarovs last destination a base hidden in the train station.

Soap can tell that Simon isn’t happy about the discovery of Y/n betraying them and working for Makarov. He knows not to ask about it since the man was already too upset to even talk about it and focused on their arrival. Simon communicated with Price and Gaz about the location and to meet them there.

Getting down to the station was chaos due to Makarovs soldiers trying to kill them resulting into him and his team getting separated and laving Simon on his own as he takes down as many soldiers as he can. From the corner of his eyes he spots Makarov getting through the station. “Makarov spotted.” He speaks through his coms, alerting the rest of his team.

“Take the shot!” He hears Price shout from the other end getting permission to kill Makarov.

Before Simon could take the shot he’s shoved to the side when the other side of the station explodes, ruble collapsing around him as he groans and leans back against a wall. His ears are ringing by how loud the explosive was and the amount of shouting he hears through his coms is ignored as he tries to get up, feeling pain shot up from his arm makes him wince, realizing that he’s injured. The place is merely collapsing and knows that he has to get out of the station before its to late.

As he gets up from the ground he hears a giant grown across from him, holding his gun up as his eyes land on one of Makarovs soldiers. He was to pissed off to care about their injures and cocks his gun only to stop when the soldier coughs harshly, reaching up to remove their own helmet and mask, revealing Y/n’s face.

Simon froze when his eyes land on him.

Y/n groans and placed a hand over his abdomen where he feels pain and turns to his side, trying to get up only to gasp when he hears the sound of a gun cocking, looking over his shoulder to face Simon.

The two are frozen in place unable to move by the realization in their faces. Y/n wants to speak up to defend himself from everything but knows that he can’t not after what he’s done. He slowly moves to stand, hand still on his abdomen as he keeps his eyes on Simon and a hand out in surrender.

“Simon…”

“Don’t.” Simons voice is harsh, hand tightening around his gun.

Y/n expects that tone as he shuts his own mouth. It wasn’t until rumbling is heard, the walls around them were about to collapse and they had to get out before it was to late for them. “The place is going to collapse we have to go.” Y/n tries to convince Simon to follow him out of the subway station if they didn’t want to get crushed.

“Simon.”

“Why?” Simon finally speaks up. “Why should I go anywhere with you?”

Y/n swallows nervously. “Look I can explain once we get out of here.” He takes a step forward to try and pry the gun from Simon only to freeze when Simon holds it up, keeping it pointed at him. Y/n knows that Simon won’t kill him if he wanted to he would have already.

“You were helping Makarov you helped him escape you helped him do all of this.” Simon nods at their surroundings the place was full of faint screams of panic from the citizens and the sound of his teammates voices were close by as they shouted for Simon. The place was falling apart all because of Makarov.

Y/n’s breath was picking up, grown into panic as he quickly tries to explain himself. “I didn’t know it was Makarov he was going to kill you—I didn’t have a choice—!”

“How long have you been lying to me?”

His breath hitched when hearing Simon’s words, unable to respond back as he opens and closes his mouth, words caught in his throat. He’s been helping Makarov since the beginning of everything and telling Simon wouldn’t change his mind about him.

Not matter what he says or what he tries it wouldn’t work. He’s broken the trust between them the trust that Simon gave him only to see it crumble away. Y/n takes a cautious step forward, ready to apologize for his mistakes only for the place to crumble, giving them both the time to escape. Only this time they don’t escape together.

[the-descolada]

Spoiler-Free Advance Review:

Exordia by Seth Dickinson

I could not put this book down, my god. Staying up super late multiple nights because I couldn’t stop reading is such a great problem to have, and Exordia gave me that problem more than any book I’ve read in a few years.

This is a very different book than Baru, but Seth’s evocative prose and dark humor is familiar from page one, and the laser focus on defamiliarizing real world injustices is again the core of the work. Despite being far more immediate (Exordia is set during the Obama administration in our world, with an alternate history beginning from the moment the book starts), the heaviness of the topics never gets overwhelming. There’s some incredible (and extremely fitting) tonal dissonance here, with every perspective character having their own sense of disaffected humor about the apocalyptic situation they’ve been thrown into.

I described this to my friend after just starting as “if the Books of Sorrow were written with Gideon the Ninth’s tone and just straight up in our world,” and I think that remains true throughout. There’s a huge amount of references peppered in, and it helps maintain that lighter tone to balance the despair of what is essentially a doomsday clock ticking down throughout the book - and it helps keep things grounded, honestly. I never felt it took away from the gravity of things, or was unnatural - after all, if I, an early 21st century sci fi nerd, was thrown into some fucked up alien bioweapon mystery, it’s hard to say my first thought wouldn’t be “oh shit, this is just like the Andromeda Strain!”

Having seven (eight?) different protagonist (or deuteragonist, I don’t know which they qualify as) PoVs is pretty wild but works perfectly here. Every character has such a unique outlook that you can instantly figure out whose head you’ve popped into even before any identifying names or things are mentioned - Seth’s mastery of the tonally cohesive PoV shifts was something I had loved in Tyrant, especially, and they’re equally impressive here. The characters are lovable, hatable, and everything in between - and each as mentioned is so distinct and compelling that I can’t say there was a single character who I was unhappy to get into their head. And that’s saying something, given who some of these characters are, but I’ll leave the specifics a surprise. Predictably, my favorites were the dysfunctional autistic butch-femme lesbians, but I really loved all of them in the end.

The base premise is almost comical in how small it starts to how much it escalates - a cynical, disillusioned Kurdish genocide survivor, Anna Sinjari, meets a terrifying (and yes…very hot. I’m a simple woman) alien in Central Park, and this seemingly chance encounter sees her roped into a small group of scientists, soldiers, and her own mother in a desperate countdown to solve an otherworldly mystery and save their world. The twists and turns of the plot are intense, so engaging that I was bouncing up and down at times (there’s plenty of sci-fi insanity that I absolutely eat up), and tightly paced.

Seth seems to really enjoy writing ethical dilemmas to great effect, and Exordia is ruthless in that area, taking the base concept of the trolley problem and the moral justification for what someone would sacrifice for the greater good and carving it apart for narrative weight. What greater good does the sacrifice serve? Is it actually good? Who gets to make the choice, and do they have a choice but to make it? There’s a lot to dig into here, and Exordia is a four course meal.

One aspect of this simply taking place in our world, rather than being an alternate universe like Baru, is that the defamiliarized commentary is even more on the nose. Whereas Baru is a commentary on empire and homophobia as a whole, transparently pulling from primarily American history of genocide and imperialism to shape a culture unlike our own in many ways to defamiliarize this moral exploration, Exordia is just literally about real world American imperialism and enabling of genocide in the MENA region, primarily the ramifications of the military industrial complex’s usage of drone warfare and the extremist regimes armed and encouraged by “counterterrorism.”

All this sets the stage for the question of what happens when a bigger fish arrives, one just as hell bent on empire building and justifying its own atrocities. The sci-fi intervention into this banal evil is at the same time a reflection of that evil, and asking if the world has the capacity for resistance to both. Exordia’s answer is profound, and far from easy, but entirely fitting for the ethical dilemma that runs throughout the book, creeping up on you slowly as you start to recognize what shape it takes in this story.

The central material conflict of the book, a locked box mystery of sorts that you piece together with the characters, is fucked up and fun and scary, a reality shifting threat that treads the line between body horror, meta-narrative, and lovecraftian math. It’s extremely cool, and I think it’ll be right up the alley of fans of The Andromeda Strain, The Locked Tomb, The Books of Sorrow and other parts of Destiny lore, and a lot of other SFF stories where ethics, horror, and mystery mix together.

I don’t want to say too much about the climax and the ending - going into this book without knowing too much was an incredible experience that had me on the edge of my proverbial seat - but the ending left me asking myself some very similar questions as I had at the end of Traitor, and I cannot wait for a reread when the physical book is in my hands to see what little foreshadowed things I can pick up on.

I don’t think people are going to be quite as completely emotionally Destroyed at the ending of this one as Traitor, but…it is very much a Seth Dickinson book, and they have quite the talent for making every thread tie together at the end to make the reader feel every emotion at once and realize that this could never have gone any other way. I cried, I laughed, sometimes simultaneously, and a book that can do that to me is entirely worth the experience - and what an experience this was.

Absolutely fucking incredible, I want more of these characters and everything they’re wrapped up in, 10/10.

I received an ARC of this novel from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 17 - Come a Little Bit Closer

📖 One of my friends who beta-read this for me pointed out there is a scene in here that is very similar to one in Ted Lasso (I've never seen it, though there are a lot of people in my life telling me I should now); so I'm just mentioning there might be a similarity.

There is also something in here that people have been waiting for. Albeit, it's probably not the one scene everyone wants, given recent events. But someone(s) gets karma'd 👀

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, angst, mentions of shitty family dynamics, physical fights, Ruthless Dagger Squad, violence, verbal fights, and mentions of blood.

#7k words

Part 16 | Masterlist | Part 18

“Are you a fucking idiot, Bradley?!”

You slapped Rooster hard on the back of his head, the thwack anything but satisfying.

“He is, indeed, a fucking idiot,” Nat quipped next to you. Bradley frowned at you, rubbing the back of his head. “I thought you would be happy I got to him!”

“You do not invert over another pilot on your team, catch them in a fucking corkscrew, and make them hit the fucking hard deck! Regardless if they are my ex or an asshole!”

It was hopeless to think you could ever stop swearing in Penny’s bar, not when Bradley was still pulling stupid shit like that. Therapy was a big step, but you knew deep down it would take a little more than a few sessions to make him less impulsive.

Maybe even more so from behind the joystick of his jet.

Rooster threw his hands up defensively. "I was just trying to teach him a lesson. You know what he did to you!"

You shot him a look.

Bob rolled his eyes and leaned against the bar, crossing his arms. "And what exactly did you accomplish, Rooster? Besides nearly killing yourself and him?"

Bradley gave him a death glare.

“I don’t care why you did it!” You snapped, tapping the end of the bottle opener hard on the top of the bar as you made your point. “You put yourself and a teammate in danger! You’re lucky Maverick stepped in before you got kicked out!”

You spun the tool in your hand while rolling your eyes, quickly popping the caps off the row of beer bottles lined up in front of you in frustration. Placing one in front of Nat, you handed Bob’s to him with a stern look.

“One, Robert,” You said, holding up your finger. “One, and then I am cutting you off.”

He grabbed the neck of the bottle, nodding and throwing his hand back in what seemed to be a 'yeah, I get it' kind of way. You held back on Roosters, holding it out of his reach, engaging him in a staring contest.

"Promise me."

"Liz."

You shook your head.

"This is not something I'm being funny about, Bradley. Promise me you will not pull that shit again."

"You're being unfair; it was just a dogfight."

You raised your eyebrow, purposely glancing over at the barbell for a split second. "I'll ring the bell on you."

Bradley cocked his eyebrow at you. The bell was something he prided on, never happening to him before. "I'll tell your manager you've been providing bad customer service."

You shrugged. "Go ahead."

Penny would legitimately not care. She'd do more damage to Bradley by chewing him out than you ever could.

"You should see the Yelp reviews when they mention me when I ring the bell on assholes. I don't care. Promise me you won't put yourself in danger anymore just to prove a fucking point."

Rooster made no effort to tear his eyes away from you. 

"Bradley Bradshaw, do you promise me?!" you tried again. When he didn't reply for the second time, you raised your voice, "Lieutenant Bradshaw! Do you promise not to risk your fucking life over proving a point?!"

Bradley blinked.

"Yes, Ma'am."

You thumped the glass bottle to the top of the bar, sliding it towards him with a huff.

“Liz!” Jimmy called out. You turned in his direction with a smile, though you were anything but happy right now.

“The Jukebox is doing that thing again. Can you see what’s wrong?”

“Did you try hitting it?” you called back.

“Several times!”

You sighed. Walking to the other side of the bar, you stopped in front of Bradley, pointing your finger into his chest.

“You pull that shit again, therapy or not, I swear to god, Bradley..." You couldn't even formulate the rest of your sentence, throwing your hands up in frustration and letting out a garbled yell as you walked away.

You approached the Juxebox with a huff, grabbing the sides as you peered into the glass. The machine was turned on, but the needle hadn't touched the spinning disc.

Someone slung their arm over the top of the machine, startling you with an almost empty beer bottle in their hand. 

"First, it was the keg, now it's the jukebox. What else is on your hit list, darlin'?"

You stiffened.

You hadn't seen Jake since that night. The minute you managed to get the courage to leave Rooster's Bronco, you cleared out your house of anything to do with him, his overnight bag sitting on your porch when you went to pick up Sadie.

It was gone when you came back home.

And It was suddenly like he hadn’t existed. You hadn’t found yourself going through what you assumed was the traditional aftermath of breaking up with someone. You hadn’t eaten a tub of ice cream, binged rom-coms or cried your eyes out except on the drive home. 

And that had been it.

No calls. No texts. No apologies. 

Without turning to face him, you remarked sarcastically, "Your over-inflated ego, but something tells me I'm going to need something bigger than a broken jukebox to take down."

Jake glanced at the machine, knocking it hard with the side of his boot.

You don't know what was worse, that the machine came to life or that it started up in the middle of the song, 'Come a Little Bit Closer' by Jay and the Americans, started up in the most ironic part.

Come a little bit closer. You're my kind of man, so big and so strong.

The quip fell easy from your lips. “Oh, what do you know, a knight in shining armour, solving all my problems.”

You don't know what you were trying to achieve by being like this. You just wanted him gone. But Jake didn't leave. Instead, he smiled at you. "You always have a way with words, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. Snatching the bottle from his grip, you turned on your heel.

"What are you doing here, Jake?" you called out, knowing he would follow you.

"I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you."

He quicked his pace, jogging up and interrupting your path. You stopped, gritting your teeth and twisting your hand away from him in frustration.

"Liz, please."

You huffed. You finally met his eyes, your gaze hard. “What is there to say, Jake? What could you say to me other than I was another bartender on your list? I just wish you had the common decency not to involve my niece in this, you asshole.” 

He opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a shout across the bar. 

"Jake!"

George had called out to his brother, surrounded by a group of women. When Jake turned at the mention of his name, George was already waving him over.

You couldn't blame the women shooting him flirty glances, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat. You just wished the pang in your chest didn't hurt as much as it did.

"Go ahead," you offered with a tense smile. "You made your intentions known. You are free to do whatever the hell you want now."

Jake faced you, his expression faltering as the edges of his mouth twitched, failing miserably to hold on to some semblance of confidence.

"You don't think I know that?" he remarked. "I think about it all the time."

“You should've thought of a lot of things before, Jake," you sighed, stepping backwards and away from him. "Don’t start on my account now.”

---

Why George had decided to stick around, Jake had no idea why. Maybe it was insurance that the damage he had done was permanent. 

Jake just wanted him to get the hell out of dodge. 

He wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation he’d been roped into when you walked away from him. He had no other choice but to walk over and let George introduce him to the two ladies he had been flirty with. 

Jake knew what George was doing. He was trying to entice him back into his old ways. It was clear as day to anyone George would be going home with this woman tonight. 

The other one, he thought her name was Bree or something along those lines, was trying to engage him in a conversation, batter her eyes or flirt. But he hadn’t so much as blinked, too caught up in how you shot him down and walked away from him. 

It wasn’t until George opened his mouth to answer a question that Jake snapped out of his trance and caught the last end of his sentence. 

“I guess having played football in high school makes it easier. My throwing hand is awesome when playing darts, though.”

That pipped his interest.

"Since when have you played darts?" he finally spoke up. 

"Since we hired a few new ranch hands,” George shrugged. “All they want to do is drink, sleep, and play darts. It's great for introducing yourself to other ranch owners. I practically win them over each time," he remarked, trying to throw in a bit of modesty.

The gears started to grind in Jake's head. And slowly but surely, the cocky-ass Mona Lisa smile came back. 

He nodded towards the dartboard. "Wanna play a game?"

George raised his eyebrow, taking a swing of his beer, "Want something else to lose your dignity to?"

Jake's grin didn't lessen. In fact, there was a certain glint in his eyes when he replied, "Something like that."

---

A crowd had gathered around the dart board while they had been playing. Practically, the whole bar was suddenly invested in this little game.

And you, leaning up against a pillar next to Bob, who had ushered you away from your post for a few seconds to watch the end of the game. Your arms were crossed, and you had a slight frown, watching him with sad eyes.

It was clear you wanted to be back behind the bar, not standing here, watching the person responsible for your broken heart play a fucking game of darts.

It wasn't even really a game. Jake could land a bullseye with his eyes literally closed. The regulars knew it, too. So, why was he purposely throwing darts with his non-dominant hand? You had no idea.

From what you could tell from when you were behind the bar, he still played well enough. They went for the long haul, starting at 501 points and slowly working their way down. Coyote and Rooster had decided to keep track, using the chalkboard on the side. George had led throughout the game and was still leading, but Jake was always close by enough to make it interesting.

Then George landed enough points that if Jake didn't get exactly what he needed to on his turn, George would win the game with his next. You didn't know why Bob pulled you over here; maybe it was to see Jake lose. Or to see George fail.

You have yet to determine which would be the better option at this point. And yet, you still couldn't bring yourself to step away.

You leaned over to Bob to ask, "What does he need to win?"

Bob sighed. "Two triples in the 20 slot and a bullseye. The bullseye needs to be last."

"What are the stakes?" you frowned.

Bob only shook his head next to you. "Nothing, from what I know."

George spun from his position, smiling at everyone cheering for him. He came to stand next to Jake, patting him hard on the back a few times.

"I don't know if you were trying to prove something, brother," he laughed, "But good game. We should do this again sometime."

Jake did the one thing he wanted to do his whole life.

He laughed at his brother.  

"George, I never understood why you've had this grudge against me for my entire life," he said, stepping out of George’s grip on his shoulder. 

Jake twirled the dart between two of his fingers, shaking his head. With a little sleight of hand, you watched as he switched his grip, the dart now in his dominant hand. You stood from leaning against the pillar and uncrossed your arms.

"You had it all. Dad's approval, the football career. All the girls flocking to your side in high school. You’ve spent your entire life under his thumb, chasing approval.”

He cut his eyes to you, seeing the frown on your face, and knew he had to continue. Stepping up to the mark, he squared his shoulders, eyeing the board.

“Trust me when I say this - you might've been the chosen one in Dad's eyes, but out here, in the real world? That doesn't mean shit."

Jake threw his first dart, the spike landing within the safety of the triple twenty. Everyone watching caught their breath in surprise.

Jake's smirk grew bolder, the fiery confidence he was known for blazing in his eyes as he looked back at his brother.  "Do you want to know what I would have said to you the day you were talking shit about Liz and Sadie?"

A quiet gasp escaped your lips.

George's mouth twitched.

“I agreed with you for one thing and one thing only. I know I won’t be welcomed back,” he stated. “I couldn’t give a damn if I am.” 

Something burned deep inside Jake’s chest as he pushed on, needing George to hear what he was saying desperately. 

" Sadie? She sees right through your bullshit. But she will not hesitate to stand up for someone if she thinks they are being mistreated. She’s so mature for her age, and I am damn proud to be her uncle.” 

He knew he shouldn’t have called himself that but was too caught up to care. 

“And Liz? The world throws so much bullshit at her, and she still chooses to be kind, even when she still buries her grief, because she doesn’t want her niece to see her cry.” 

Jake shook his head, a sad smile on his face. “I found people who, despite knowing my flaws, chose to stand by me. Not hold them against me.”

Jake threw the second dart, hitting the board next to his previous dart within the rim. 

"I remember all the nights you came home, mirroring Dad's words, telling me how worthless I was.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Now I just realize you were literally copying everything he had to say to you from that day. Making yourself feel better.”

He'd never admit Rooster forcing the both of them in a Corkscrew is what made him realize it. He had been regurgitating every diminishing word and sentence his father had screamed at him growing up back at Rooster's face, hoping it would make him feel better.

He picked at the tail end of his dart, the weight of it familiar and comforting, before glancing at George's face.

"You ever heard of Roosevelt?" he asked nonchalantly. George eyed him carefully, "What does a dead president have to do with a game of darts?'

Jake had a conceited grin on his lips. "Well, he had this quote, and I'm probably butchering this, but he said critics don't count. Or the person who points out how we stumble or how someone could have done something better." 

Jake twisted from his mark on the ground, standing square in front of George as he continued to explain his point.

"Because the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly... and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly."

Jake's voice was steady, but his eyes bore into George's with a fire. "All my life, George, I've been in that arena. I've stumbled and failed, but I didn't listen to someone from the sidelines telling me how to live my life."

Jake lifted his hand, never taking his eyes once off George.

"It's time I remembered that," he said, thinking about Sadie. "You shouldn't have to either."

He flicked his wrist forward, letting his dart fly.

Bullseye.

He heard the thump of the dart hitting the board, and cheers erupted throughout the Hard Deck. Jake had thrown a dart enough times to know whether or not it had hit its mark; he didn't need to look. Even Rooster was laughing at the utter shock and disbelief across George's face.

"I'm living my life, George," he said, patting him on his shoulder, leaving his hand there. "It's about time you did the same."

For once in his life, Jake had managed to stand up to his brother. But the moment wasn't as satisfactory as he might have imagined - He found himself thinking it didn't matter.

Because as he stepped away from George to look back to where you had been, he realized you hadn't been there to see it.

---

Your shift came and went in a blur after Jake and George’s dart game. The squad still hung back well past closing hours, watching and even helping as you closed up the bar, except Rooster, who was messing around on the piano.

Jake was still here. And George. 

They had been out on the patio for over an hour now, simply talking. You tried not to pay them much mind as you tried to get through your remaining tasks quickly, but you couldn’t help but look out the back windows occasionally, unable to take your eyes off the Seresin brothers for long.

George approached Jake soon after he escaped the crowds. There had been no fights, no punches thrown or someone storming out. In fact, every time you looked up, the two seemed to be inching closer to each other.

Damn him and that cocky grin. Why'd he have to be so... Jake?

You didn’t want to be a spectator to Jake’s theatrics during that display during their dart game. Leaving before he threw that last dart, you were now questioning yourself… if you walked away to shield yourself or to punish him. 

While he stood up for himself against George, in the back of your mind, there was an insistent voice whispering that maybe, just maybe, that display was also for you too. 

Some of you ached at the idea of him seeking validation and needing to prove himself. And that's what hurt the most: that deep down, under layers of stubbornness and hurt, you still cared for him.

If it was, you weren’t ready. Not for this. Not for answers or explanations. You deserved more than whatever that was. 

But you still heard him. Heard everything he said to George.  

You really didn’t know what to make of it. 

The sound of the front door slamming up against the wall, rattling some of the portrait frames, startled you from your thoughts. There was a momentary thought of remembering you really needed to lock the front door when you were closing, but it was washed away just as quickly as it came.

You couldn’t take your eyes off Tyler’s body as he charged forward, finger pointed towards you with a seething glare. “You fucking bitch!”

You stepped backwards, the sharp edge of the sink hitting your spine hard. A few glasses jolted from the force of it, sliding off the ledge and shattering to the ground. Rooster’s playing stopped immediately, and the piano bench toppled to the ground.

Was it anger? Shock? Disbelief the past few weeks of not seeing him coursing through your veins responsible for your reaction? You knew Tyler was dangerous, but deep down, you hated how easily you cowered at his appearance.

Tyler didn't get very far in his effort to get to you. Bradley came out of nowhere, something out of a comic, with his fist flying, punching Tyler square in the jaw.

“That was for Sadie, you bastard!”

Unfortunately for Bradley, Tyler only keeled over briefly before taking a swing. Rooster had not been prepared for him to retaliate, thinking his punch would have been enough to put the asshole on the ground.

Tyler had taken more punches and hits to the face as a football player than the average person would in their life. While Jake had managed to get him on the ground when he tried to kidnap Sadie, and Rooster was fitter than the average person, it would take much more than Jake and Bradley combined to keep Tyler there.

The uppercut to Bradley’s jaw could be heard from miles away, and you could only stand there, watching helplessly, as Bradley crashed backwards into a wooden table, his name a cry on your lips as the pieces scattered.

Whether or not they heard your cry or the commotion, the rest of the Daggers swarmed the island bar as Tyler watched Bradley roll on the ground amongst the splinters in some twisted sense of pride.

Whether you could realize it at the time or not, that would be his biggest mistake.

Nat was the first one there, the first one to put herself between you and Tyler, readying herself in case he tried to leap over the bar to get to you. Javy, Fanboy and Payback had run from opposite sides of the room to surround Rooster and Tyler, Bradley finally rolling himself off the broken table on the ground and pulling himself up.

And Jake, almost breaking the sliding door as he bolted inside to get to you, George on his heels. Rooster was too happy to stand beside him as Jake placed himself before everyone else, this hand twitching in anticipation of a fight.

"This is the one who did all that?"

Jake side-eyed George as he came up from the back to flank him on his other side.

"What?" he remarked, puffing out his chest and not once taking his eyes off Tyler. "I'm not that much of an asshole to know that's not how we treat women. Or children. We should drag his ass back to Texas and show him some southern hospitality."

Nat cocked her head at Tyler, speaking up from her spot next to the bar. "You must be a complete idiot to walk back in here after what you did to them."

Tyler shrugged, a sickening smile on his face. "I've got nothing left to lose. Literally."

"What, Daddy cut you off and kicked you out?" Rooster asked, spitting out the blood pooling in his mouth.

With the presence of your friends, you managed to calm down a little bit. You were still scared, which would never change as long as you could see his face, but you could take in Tyler's state more clearly.

Dark circles under his eyes. Blonde hair, greasy. He was still wearing that same freaking white sweater, only it looked like it hadn't been washed in days.

Rooster was right. Tyler had been cut off, indeed.

Fanboy and Payback, having realized what was going on, went to either exit to stand guard. You weren't sure whether to keep people out or keep someone in. But Tyler hadn’t noticed. He was too preoccupied to remove his eyes from Jake.

You watched as Tyler glanced at everyone around the bar, obviously bothered by Rooster's remark but not addressing it. "Seeing a lot of protectors here. Must be that 'Navy bravado,' huh? All show, no substance. We've all seen how they fail when it matters most.”

Ironically, it was George who intervened first. “This isn’t your place, man. Walk away before you get hurt.” 

Tyler flicked his eyes between Jake and George, a smirk playing on his lips, “This is interesting. Another misguided soul ready to join this little squad over here?” 

George smiled at him, nodding at Tyler, cracking his knuckles, “Just somebody who doesn’t like your face.” 

Your voice was hoarse, vocal cords feeling like they were being dragged over jagged rocks, when you asked, “What the hell are you doing here, Tyler?” 

He didn’t even give you the courtesy of looking at you when he replied, “Respect! What else? 

Jake scoffed with amusement, "By wearing that dirty sweater and showing up here drunk and messed up? You're doing a great job, really. I applaud you."

Tyler doubled back with that all-too-familiar smug smirk, " Alright, saw through that one, did you,” He chuckled before he teased. “I came to see how Sadie's holding up. It must be hard, having her favourite play-hero away. Unless you've moved up from being her 'uncle' to something more."

Jake's face immediately paled, his entire demeanour changing from cocky to pure rage in a fraction of a second. The atmosphere in the room grew dense with tension. "You say her name again, and I'll make sure it's the last word you ever speak."

Still grinning but with an undercurrent of faux uncertainty, Tyler raised his hands in mock surrender, "Just stating facts, Jake."

George, sensing the danger in his brother, whispered a warning, "Easy, Jake."

But Jake's voice came out as a dangerous whisper, all restraint seemingly gone, "You wanna dance? Let's fucking dance."

Jake charged, tackling Tyler to the ground as you stood there wide-eyed and in shock. Rooster and Coyote flanked the grappling pair while George kneeled, calling out to Jake all the spots Tyler was leaving himself open. The sound of flesh hitting flesh accompanied Jake’s punches, and you couldn't bring yourself to look away.

A startled cry escaped your lips as you felt someone put their hands on your cheeks, turning you away from the fight and wiping away your tears. Bob had somehow found his way into the bar with you and was currently forcing you to stare at his face.

“Nope, you don’t need to witness any of this.”

"How much trouble are they going to get into because of this?" you asked, scared out of your mind. Bar fights were a thing that could get you kicked out of the Navy.

Bob glanced over to the fight. Nat was walking towards the back door, her phone pressed to her ear, no doubt calling the police. As his eyes tracked back to Tyler, George and Javy had now joined the fight, the elder Seresin brother grabbing Tyler by the back of his neck and his belt, tossing him like a bale of hay onto the top of a nearby table as Rooster surprisingly helped Jake up from the floor.

The legs splintered under the force with a sickening crack. It wasn’t until you shuttered at the sound and let out a soft whimper between his hands he remembered you asked him a question.

"None," his voice was firm. "As far as anyone knows, he walked in here like that."

"Bob..." you whimpered. He stroked a piece of hair away from your face soothingly. "I'm not going to be the one that says he doesn't deserve what's coming to him. Tyler’s not walking out of here now. He literally signed his own death sentence."

Deep down, you knew that. Tyler against not one, but three navy pilots and Jake’s brother? There was no way he was walking away from that.

The sound of glass shattering caused you to jolt again.

"Penny's so going to fire me after this," you managed to say through tears. Bob gave you an affectionate smile. "No way, you're the best bartender she's had in years. You put up with so much shit, and Sadie would no doubt give her two cents. She seems to be doing that a lot lately."

"Bobby..." you huffed through a sob. "You've never heard you swear before."

He shrugged, wiping away one of your tears. "I guess there's a first time for everything."

Bob hadn't covered your ears. He was only keeping your eyes off the ongoing violence. So you could hear everything going on. There were no more crashes, glass breaking, or wood splitting in two. You could only hear the rhythmic sound of flesh hitting hard flesh.

The next cry out of Tyler's mouth made you stiffen.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth!" he gave an almost whine as Bradley laid a punch to his stomach. "I'm sorry for all of it!"

Oh.

Fuck.

No.

Where you were once scared, pure anger builds in your stomach. You pull Bob’s hands away from your face, swatting away his feeble attempts to reach for you. You marched towards the exit doors of the bar, rounding the corner to get to the group.

Jake saw you approaching first with a sharp lift of his head, tapping George on the shoulder, who looked up at his brother before his eyes landed on you, catching on instantly. He grabbed Tyler by the back of his sweater, hoisting him up onto his knees before changing his grip to the middle of his back. Jake gritted his teeth as he tugged Tyler's head back with a vice grip on his hair.

You kneeled down in front of him, taking in his face.

Even bruised and bloody, Tyler looked nothing like the egotistical sociopath you knew him to be. Nothing like the villain that stalked you months before this or when he walked into the bar all those weeks ago.

This version of Tyler looked desperate, unhinged, but on the verge of a last straw. You couldn't say seeing that white hoodie stained red was unpleasurable. To say he had nothing left to lose was one thing, but seeing it across his battered face was another.

“You’re sorry?” you snarked. “You’re sorry you abused my sister? Are you sorry you killed her? Sorry, you tried to kidnap my niece?!”

You wanted to nail him across the face. You wanted to know the absolute pain and heartache and suffering he had put you through. He took Ridley from you. He hurt Sadie. He hurt you.

But then you took in the room, Jake and George kneeling behind him. Bradley and Javy standing by, ready to pounce the second he might try to escape. And the state of the bar, the damage sobering your thoughts.

No questions asked.

You noticed the ties of his sweater were out of place. Lifting your hand, you fixed one back into place, smoothing the string down before looking him dead in the eye.

"I could fucking care less."

Approaching sirens could be heard outside the bar, making everyone hold their punches. You stood, turning your back on the display to rejoin Bob, who had followed you out from the relative safety of the bar.

You wouldn't give Tyler the satisfaction. Ultimately, he was still a narcissist, wanting a reaction.

"Tie him up," you heard Jake command. Despite Bob urging you not to look once again, you couldn't help yourself. You needed to see this. To see Tyler caught and unable to do anything but accept his fate.

You needed to know you and Sadie were safe.

Coyote was handing George a sailor's rope he had torn off the wall, having pulled the twisted pieces apart. Jake pressed his knee down onto Tyler's back, pinning him to the floor as George quickly hog-tied his hands together, not that he'd be going anywhere. The group of men had done enough damage. Tyler wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.

Everything happened so quickly in the moments after. The police burst through the front door. George was holding up some sort of badge, and you were suddenly rushed out into the parking lot by Bob and Nat.

Penny was already there, greeting you outside with extreme worry in her eyes, sweeping you up into a hug the second she saw you. She was trying to console you, tell you Sadie was safe with Mav and that you would be alright. You didn’t realize you started shaking until she pulled back in concern to ask what had happened.

Your breath hitched as you shakily joked, “I promise I’m not purposely wrecking your bar. I don't know where these assholes come from."

Penny huffed out a laugh and a sad smile. Biting her lip, she reached out and stroked your hair at the side of your face as only a mother could. She tugged you into her hold, refusing to let you go.

You don't know how long you stood there until Nat tapped you on the shoulder. She pulled you into her side and looped her arm around Penny's, holding you upright as the front door of the Hard Deck opened. A pair of Police officers were dragging Tyler out, still hog-tied and a mess. George was behind them, following them while speaking to another officer.

When you watched the police car containing Tyler in the back seat roll off into the distance, and a tow truck rolled that stupid white piece of machinery away, you finally felt like you could breathe.

Tyler's frightening hold over both you and Sadie was over.

And yet, it wasn’t as much of a relief as it should have been.

---

You wanted to stay away from the Choas unfolding in and around the Hard Deck. 

Taking the first chance you could, you escaped when nobody was looking, eventually finding yourself sitting in Penny's chair on the beach. 

Less than a year ago, you were sitting in the chair, unaware of what was about to happen to you. You who were desperately trying to get through a book by reading the same page twice. Gawking at a pilot playing Dog fight football who you knew was off limits, trying to get by till the following Saturday night. 

Then Ridley's ex came for you and Sadie. You had fallen in love with said pilot. Learned your sister was murdered. Your best friend hurt your feelings. You had gotten your heart broken by said pilot. 

You didn't know what was worse, the fact you had seen and experienced all this trauma, or that Ridley's death and abscene were still triumphing over all that. 

You jolted when someone placed a blanket around your shoulders.

George Seresin retracted his hands just as quickly as he placed the blanket around you, holding them up in surrender. 

You didn't have anything to say to him, choosing to remain stoic as he lowered himself into the sand, sitting with his back in front of the armrest of your chair. 

It was a full minute before he finally spoke. 

"I need to apologize, Liz."

You scoffed, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. "Apologize for the derogatory display of how you treat women? Or what you said to Jake to make him act the way he did?" 

At least this time, George had the decency to look shameful. 

"If his words at the dart game weren't any indication, I know you egged him on. He was trying to get you to back off, in his own twisted away.” 

"I still need to apologize. For all of it," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't my place to do that to the two of you." 

"Yours is not the one I need right now," you spat, lifting your feet off the ground and curling into the depths of the chair. 

Either one of you spoke for a few minutes after that. George seemed to ponder his thoughts, scanning the horizon but not finding anything. The waves were both loud and quiet, making the world smaller than it actually was.

You couldn't handle it. 

"Do you realize the gravity of what you did, George?" you said heatedly, uncurling yourself from the chair and submerging your feet into the sand. "You weren't just egging him on. You were meddling in someone's relationship because your father asked you to."  

"Yes, I know." 

"Do you know how fucked up that is?" 

"Jake doing that grand display with the darts painted a pretty clear picture in my head." 

You rolled your eyes. "When was the last time you asked yourself if you were truly happy, George?"

George thought about it for a second before he replied, "When I became the livestock official back home."

"And let me guess, you made that decision all on your own, without any influence from your father?"

He looked down at the sand, grabbing a handful before watching it fall back to the ground. "Kind of. When I got the ranch, it wasn't by choice. But this felt like the first one I could make by myself."

"You just proved everything that Jake said, right." 

You huffed, frustration evident. "How do you plan on making up to him?"

George took a deep breath, steadying himself. "By supporting Jake genuinely in whatever he chooses. And by ensuring our father doesn't come between you two again."

Your eyes searched his for any sign of deceit, but all you saw was raw honesty. 

"Jake loves you. It's clear as day. Don't let this get between the two of you." 

You spat out a laugh, a high-pitchy sound you hoped would tell him you saw right through his bullshit. "Right."

"Liz, he didn't agree with the BS I was spilling to agree with me. Don't hold it against him."

 "But he went through with it," you countered. "Even if it was some twisted idea of dealing with all the bullshit you and the rest of your family throw at him save Janet, he still said those things. He still hurt me."

You threw yourself back into your chair instead. "I don't know anymore, George. I don't know what to think anymore." 

George dropped his head to his chest, furrowing his brow. "You know, you didn't allow him to explain that day. Or today even." 

That made you sit up. "Are you saying I should have?"

"I'm saying," he replied, "Whatever happened to giving someone a chance to know that people care? Even when other people think they don't deserve it?"

"That's different."

Maybe," he nodded. "But something is missing. I think that's only rooted in what other people think, not when they've done something to you." 

George's words made your voice catch in your throat.

"Give him a chance to explain, Liz. Just listen to what he has to say. Then make your decision." 

Suddenly you were wishing for the asshole from a week ago. Because, deep down, you knew he was right. 

"George, I mean this in the nicest way possible. You have potential. Listen to what your brother told you. You can't have your father tell you what to do for the rest of your life." 

He glanced down to the sand but tilted his head towards you so you knew he was still listening to what you had to say. 

"Ridley and I... My sister... We went through the same thing with our father. And I was so young, I didn't know any better. But she got us out before any more damage could be done. You still can get out. You don't need him in your life." 

"Is it wrong for me to want his approval?" 

You bit your lip, surprised at his question. "No. He's your father. It's natural you'd want that. But you shouldn't have to change who you are. You shouldn't have to seek his approval when he hasn't been someone worthy of giving it." 

George nodded, more to himself than to you, finally managing to mumble, "Jake is lucky to have you in his life. Sadie, too."

Even after everything that happened today, you still gave him a soft smile. "You're not that bad, George,” you said before adding, “When you want to be.”

He shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning upward slightly. "Don't let it get to my head. I might end up like Jake."

You reached over and patted his shoulder. "That wouldn't be a bad thing."

---

George left you a little while ago when an officer sought him out to take a statement. The night air was nipping at your skin, even with the blanket around your shoulders, and yet, you didn’t know how you would sleep after this, the adrenaline spike still showing no signs of slowing down. 

You didn’t know what to feel, the myriad of emotions thrown at you over the past week, month, and even year - any one of them would have sufficed. But you couldn’t bring yourself to figure it out. To live through any of them.

You just wanted to get through the rest of the day.

Dragging your feet through the sand, you made your way up the back steps of the Hard Deck’s back patio, shutting the door behind you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulders, you gently placed it on the pool table, readying yourself to take in the true extent of the damage Tyler had wrought on the place.

The bar was dimly lit, save for the neon flashes of red and blue pulsing through the windows. There were splintered pieces of wood from the broken tables still littering the room, chairs overturned and scattered menus. With shards of glass and the thick smell of alcohol, you hated seeing the bar in such a state.

And in the middle of it all, Jake, sitting on a barstool with his head bowed and his hands resting on his knees. It was a stark image, seeing Jake’s knuckles bloody and bruised, his hair dishevelled. Looking less than himself. Utterly defeated.

It was a moment you weren’t supposed to see. A moment nobody was supposed to see.

And yet…

He didn’t hear your footsteps as you went behind the bar to grab a clean cloth, nor did he hear you take a metal bowl from under the sink and fill it with water. Or the ruckus as you fought with the first aid box.

It was only when you reached for one of his hands, having come to stand in front of him to run that cloth over his skin, that he jolted out of whatever stupor he had found himself in.

“Liz, I…”

You shook your head, shushing him. “Not now, Jake. Not tonight.”

He let you clean the blood from his hands. Let you dab at the split skin surrounding his knuckles. He was stiff as you worked, eyes tracking your every movement, from how you delicately held the bottom of his hand to watching you ring the cloth over the bowl. The water had already turned red by the second time you’d cleaned the fabric.

You reached for some antiseptic from the first aid kit, tilting the bottle forward as your finger held the cotton swab in place. Jake hissed when you placed the soaked cotton swab on his raw skin, his other hand shooting out quickly to grip your wrist tight.

His touch did feel like Sandpaper. But it wasn't as coarse, not as rough as you made yourself believe. You halted your fingers, the cotton swab falling to the floor at the shock of his touch.

“Sorry,” a quiet murmur on your lips. Jake eye’s darkened, a flicker of something passing through. He loosened his grip on your wrist but didn’t let go, letting his fingers slide loosely down to your wrist. You followed his touch, watching as careful fingers caressed the palm of your hand.

"You don't have to do this, Liz," he stated, his voice rough.

"Yes, I do," you replied softly, keeping your eyes fixated on his hand. "Someone has to. You certainly won’t."

"You're always caring for me."

You reached with your free hand for another cotton swab, but Jake stopped you, meeting your hand with his. He brought it down, and you let him pull you gently into the space between his legs. 

"Do I deserve it?" He whispered, playing with your fingers. "Especially from you."

You swallowed hard. "That's up to you. But I can’t stand by and watch you be hurt."

You finally gathered the courage to look up at his face. It was a miracle Tyler didn’t do much damage other than a slight bruise along his forehead.

“Otherwise, you’ll go crazy,” he remarked, recalling when Sadie was in the hospital. "Even when I've hurt you."

"Jake..." his name a quiet plead on your lips.

He let his hands glide up your wrists to your forearms, the air between the two of you heated as he leaned forward, hooded gaze intent on your lips.

"If not tonight, when?" he whispered.

Your foreheads met, you more than him, allowing yourself to press your weight against his skin. The two of you came together like this, a series of almost kisses and burning moments that left the two of you wanting more. 

Except that was when you thought you couldn't have him when everyone was screaming at you not to get involved with him.

You're not sure what it is now. Because the person who swore so long ago never to let Jake be in a position where he could break your heart was crawling out from the depths, insisting you push him away and run for the hills.

But Jake's breath, mixing with yours, lulled you into his gentle pull, hands tugging you into him as you felt him lightly graze your lips with his.

What would it be like to memorize the touch of his lips one last time?

Penny’s voice startled the two of you, making the both of you jolt back and away from each other.

"Come on, all this wait till tomorrow."

Whether she was referring to the mess in the bar or your relationship, you couldn't tell. 

You cleaned up the first aid supplies as Jake switched holding an ice bag you gave him between his hands and face. Penny locked up the bar behind the pair of you once you finished, always standing between you and Jake.

He followed the both of you hesitantly into the parking lot, unsure what he could say or do.

At the last second, you turned. You looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time since you yelled at him that day in the Hard Deck, a quiet mummer and a sad smile on your lips as you said, "Thank you, Jake."

Then, with Penny guiding you with a hand around your shoulders, you left towards your car, keys in her hand.

He could only watch every step you took, watching as the distance between the pair of you grew, left wondering if there was still hope for him to make things up to you after all. 

Tag list: (I think I'm missing a few people, so if you want to be tagged, please let me know!)

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky @

@keyrani @craftytrashprincess @hisredheadedgoddess28 @abzidabzy @memeorydotcom @vicsnook @taestrwbrry

-Wickett ;)

Part 18 - Sapling is in-process

[picaroroboto]

I've been wanting for a little while to talk about Pandaemonium, and about Hermes, and what I think these two topics have to do with each other, so here goes. The whole time I was playing the story in Pandae, I kept thinking that I wish I could tell Hermes about all this. For one, because Hermes expresses that he feels he's the only one emotionally suffering, yet here is Erichthonios also clearly going through some shit, so maybe they could find some sort of solidarity together.

For two, because I feel Pandae proves Hermes right in his criticisms of the Ancient world. It's essentially every single flaw of their world in microcosm! Let me try to explain:

To start, let's review Hermes and his problems:

This is from the conversation with him after you show him the Elpis flower changing color for you. He expresses the sympathy he feels for creations, and how being forced to put them down for the sake of the star puts him in this ethical crisis. The entire Ancient world is built around this idea of "for the sake of the star" at the expense of all else, including the lives of their creations and their own individual emotions. Because of this, Hermes feels all the more isolated, as if he's the only one who ever feels bad or questions the foundation of their society.

There is something very, very twisted about the fact that Pandaemonium lies geographically below Elpis, the Hell to its symbolic Eden or Heaven. At the very moment Hermes is crying over having to put down dangerous creations, even more dangerous creations are being kept alive in a hellish gothic prison replete with chains and cages.

As I traveled through Pandaemonium, I also kept thinking "Why is it a prison?" Why does such a place even need to exist? As we find out in Anabaseios, the concept of it being a place to research dangerous creations is a cover story, it's more or less Athena's personal laboratory for her to pursue her goal of godhood. I've seen people praise Athena for being a more shallow and simple villain than Emet-Selch for example, but she's not just a megalomaniac:

"I am no different from our peers" is soooo telling. Her obsession with remaking mankind in her image isn't just a selfish madness, it's the ideals of the Ancients, their obsession with making perfect creations for the sake of the star, taken to it's furthest and most insane conclusion! (also note the irony in her belief that a goddess would remake the species better, when Hydaelyn, the only true goddess in the setting, chose to preserve them as they are. Arguably even making them worse by Sundering).

So Athena takes her duty to the star way too far, Lahabrea sees that she's become a danger to the star for it, and kills her, then cuts off the Hephiastos side of himself - another example of how ruthless the Ancients can be and how they justify anything for the sake of the star. Because the Ancients also place a low importance on emotion, he never talks to Erichthonios about Athena. Feeling neglected by his father and curious about his mother, Erich is lead deeper into Pandaemonium and made even more vulnerable to Athena's manipulations. So even if it was one woman's madness that spawned the action in Pandae, the other flaws of Ancient society serve to perpetuate and exacerbate it.

It's also worse mentioning that for Pandae being a prison for dangerous creations, you actually fight more transformed Ancients and corrupted Warders than you do actual animals. As my brother put it in his own meta, Pandae isn't a case of "inmates running the asylum" as much as it is the power that the Warders wield over their creations corrupting them. Athena is indirectly behind the Warder's transformations, but she also took advantage of vulnerabilities that were already there, like Hesperos's fixation on Lahabrea.

And the same obsession with perfect creations for the sake of the star, the abuse of the power over life and death, continues to characterize the Ancients after the Sundering, with the way Emet and the Ascians ruthlessly Rejoin Shards in order to bring back their "perfect" world. But what Elpis and Pandaemonium prove is that the idea of the Ancient world as a paradise is little more than Emet's grief and nostalgia talking. Hermes may have triggered the Final Days, but I feel the blame for destroying "paradise" doesn't lie entirely on him - his crisis was layered on top of myriad flaws with the world he lived in, flaws he felt he didn't have the freedom to talk about because everyone else believed the world was perfect.

Any world where people can't question the foundation of their society is very far from perfect. A world where people ruthlessly wield power over others, both creations and other people, in favor of a grand goal is no paradise. A world in which prisons exist is no paradise.

If my tone started to sound a bit vengeful there, it's because I sympathize deeply with Hermes, and can't help but feel a bit vindicated on his behalf when I think that Pandaemonium proves him right and Emet-selch wrong. But even after I've spent all this time tearing into the Ancient world, I feel like I have to remind both myself and any readers that the point of the conflict between the Ancient and Sundered world in FF14 isn't to objectively compare them and decide which is better and which is worse. Such pragmatism would be in-character for an Ancient, but we don't have to subscribe to their views. Think about it - even if the Ancient world was proven to be a true paradise, we'd still choose our broken world over it, because returning would cost too many lives, and because we love our world not because it is perfect but because it is ours.

The choice is just made a little easier by all this proof that their world was never as perfect as they said it was.

[luna-rainbow]

do you think Bucky ever tried to kill himself?

Thanks for the ask Nonnie. Trigger warning for suicide discussion.

I once saw an interview excerpt of Sebastian saying — along the lines of — it’s the thought of Steve that stopped Bucky from killing himself in the 2 years he went on the run. My headcanon is pretty similar to his.

TL;DR - I think Bucky would have had frequent thoughts of suicide, but did not make an attempt, because he would have succeeded. I also think that even though Bucky did not attempt it, he nevertheless engaged in risky, self-sabotaging behaviours that could have killed him.

In real life, while suicide attempts are more frequent amongst women compared to men, deaths from suicide (ie successful attempts) are far higher amongst men than women. This is usually attributed to the fact that men frequently choose more lethal methods. Coupled with the fact that Bucky knows he’s a super soldier, and my view of his personality (efficient with his missions and ruthless towards himself), as well as the one canon mention of a male super soldier attempting suicide (Bruce “I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it back out”) I think he would’ve chosen a very deadly method if he made an attempt.

But I think what often happens with men (and women too) is that...sometimes people knowingly engage in behaviours that are unhealthy or highly unsafe. They might not intend to die, but they wouldn’t mind if it kills them. The social norms Steve and Bucky grew up with is that men are not allowed vulnerability and weakness. There was no word for PTSD in those days, nor was there a word for depression. You just kept getting more “melancholic” until it’s bad enough to be classified as “insane”. And when you take that into the eugenic context they grew up with, it is likely their attitude is to cop it on the chin for as long as it takes to avoid a mental health review or diagnosis. But…that means the sense of distress and self-loathing keep building up and need an outlet.

In real life, people sometimes turn to drugs and alcohol, often with full awareness the harm it’s doing to their bodies, and I am partial towards headcanons of Bucky engaging in highly risky behaviour in the immediate aftermath of escaping Hydra. This might be drugs and alcohol, or it could be taking on risky missions with minimal attempts at self-preservation. You could argue the same about Steve after Bucky’s death: Steve jumping across the fire because Bucky yelled at him vs Steve putting the plane in water despite Peggy pleading with him.

When TFATWS first introduced Bucky breaking the law and jeopardising his pardon to terrorise former Hydra agents, that felt real to me. He was self-sabotaging and self-destructive, and his snarl that “if he’s wrong about you then he’s wrong about me” means his identity is tied up with someone who wasn’t there anymore and he was never going to get the approval he needed again.

I think, the other thing to consider too, is Bucky having survived 70 years of Hydra torture suggests an incredible mental and physical resilience. We know he’s not hopelessly optimistic — in CATFA he’s the one trying to dissuade Steve from joining the war — but there must be…a certain kind of faith and relentless hope that keeps him going. The fact that he has had not one, but at least two (or three, if you count Endgame) villain origin character beats and still does his best to fight for the good side, suggests he has an indomitable love for people and the world despite how much hurt it caused him.

So I tend to think that while suicide may have frequently been on his mind, and he may have frequently engaged in highly risky or harmful behaviours, he hasn’t attempted to take his own life because there is something (whether that be Steve or some other thing) that keeps him going and keeps him believing there’s going to be a better tomorrow on the other side.

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S06E15

So, as I��m sure a lot of people have already figured out, we just watched the intended season finale. CityTV, you better hope I never get to cross that ocean. I mean, every season finale aside from the two where Peter Mitchell was in charge (coincidence?) were run of the mill episodes which could have fit anywhere in the season. Maybe it will be fitting for this season to start and end with viewers wondering what they watched. But I’m getting ahead of myself here and I might be wrong. Let’s focus on 15 which may very well be the best episode of the season for me, probably tied with S06E04.

The spoiled scene with Charlie and Sarah’s mentioned anniversary. Rex totally wants to stay with Jesse after their “celebration”. I’m trying to figure whether Jesse is pretending to be naive or is actually being naive about it. Or if the whole response is the writers being unable to outright say that Charlie and Sarah really spent their anniversary having sex all night.

Speaking of, two years, Charlie Hudson? What are you waiting for, an epiphany to hit you in the head? Oh, wait.

What do you mean, we didn’t save the day? There’s a dead woman? Huh? 

Nice bomb explosion by the way.

“My bosses are gonna hate this but tell me more”. lol Jesse

How did we end up as security detail for the woman who might become prime minister?

Look, I like when there’s a case where they’re toying with supernatural elements. That’s why I loved Castle so much. And Jesse is always eager to believe. Charlie on the other hand looks like he’s got tons to say on the subject. Rex too. Apparently he doesn’t believe in time travel either.

Any so called time traveler should come back to the present with the numbers for the lottery. That would be ample proof for me :P

Can I say how much I like the camera work on this one? Good directing by John Vatcher.

Rex is getting so many pats in this episode. Deserved.

This campaign manager is on par with the Veep campaign managers. And by that I mean he’s ruthless and self-centered and I want to punch him.

That food now possibly has dog hair in it.

I come from a country where it’s pretty normal to put a musical montage right in the middle of an episode (even a dance number), so I’m not going to say anything about the needless song.

Thunk! There goes Charlie. Again. I’ll spare y’all the concussion speech. Besides, time moves in mysterious ways in this show, maybe it’s already been six months since episode 11.

Seriously, why do you tell Rex to chase a lead if you can’t survive being ten feet away from him?

I can’t remember the last time any of my shows put a bomb vest on one of the main characters. The latest that I remember was FBI but it was on a minor character. That had been a great episode too.

I haven’t yet decided whether that bomb vest looks too amateurish. To be fair, given who the culprit was, it shouldn’t look professional.

Sarah finding Charlie as he has a bomb vest on is like, the best thing that has happened lately on this show. Her look. His look as he realizes that he’s got his entire family now in this (and the mantra of no, no, no that must be playing in his head, I’m filling the blanks, don’t mind me). The slight zooming in of the camera in both of their shots, denoting the direness of the situation.

I was almost waiting for Charlie to say “this isn’t as enjoyable as it was last night” as Sarah was touching him while she’s checking the bomb vest. It writes itself, come on.

In my last review post I wrote that I was hoping the earphones would serve for Charlie to call Sarah and tell her goodbye or something like that. This certainly exceeded my expectations.

We’re a bit late for love confessions under duress but when Charlie was asked about whether Sarah was his wife and he replied “Not yet”, that was a nice moment. At least we know where his head is at.

Their silent communication. They’re so in sync.

Elsewhere, Joe and Jesse are quietly trying to figure out a way to save innocent people and somehow not get their friend blown up.

Superintendent Joe Donovan making airplane noises. I laughed so much.

They are holding hands as they’re walking to their doom! Oh, by the way, interesting music choice. I wonder if it’s score created for the show or non-original music. I’ve certainly not heard it before on the show.

Goodbye kiss! I love it here. And look at the shot of Charlie and Rex leaving as Sarah is staying behind.

Me: no way it’s the convict. Five minutes later: it’s the fucking convict!!! Ten minutes later: it’s not the convict???

Ha, Charlie using the mute button which is pretty convenient but almost no one uses on calls. 

Okay, they fooled me with the bomber. But the takedown went pretty much as I expected. Nice communication with Rex through hand signals, again. Although the detonator flying off the lady’s hand… anything could have happened.

Rex’s influence to the system will be more K9s lol. They may also have ensured unlimited funding for the SJPD.

Can the time traveling guy tell us if Charlie is going to propose anytime soon? Or is the “not yet” considered a non-proposal proposal?

This is the first time I’m hearing about the so called Alice in wonderland syndrome.

“Everybody needs a Rex”. Ah, yes. Our catchphrase.

Charlie, put the phone down. When is that man clocking out? Who’s going to make sure Rex is getting adequate rest? I need to talk to his superior. Joe!

Well, I kept saying that I wanted Charlie and Sarah to be in danger again together since they hadn’t after they had become a couple, and I got my wish, thank you, show. We could have had an aftermath scene with them but I’m not going to complain about it in an otherwise good episode.

Promo: I’m beyond frustrated that they keep shuffling the episodes and they wouldn’t even give it a rest when they got the season finale or the 100th episode on their hands. Today’s (yesterday’s) episode would have been a better 100th episode than The Rookie’s for sure (which is embarrassing for The Rookie). But instead we get to watch it as episode 99 and have a run of the mill case for the 100th, which, unless it ends up in a huge celebration scene, is going to fall flat. We basically end off exactly as we started, expect I now know this is 100% CityTV’s fault.

Speaking of, is CityTV even going to acknowledge that it’s the 100th episode? Is anyone? I’m obviously not expecting the magnitude of promotion ABC gave The Rookie or 911 this season (and that was a lot) but something that shows they’re not completely neglecting Hudson and Rex. It doesn’t seem like we’re getting renewal news anytime soon, so I’d settle for them celebrating the episodes they already filmed. There are quite a few production companies involved too, this does not only fall on CityTV. If Shaftesbury wants to celebrate this milestone, I won’t say no.

[thehallstara]

year in review

wanted to reflect on the things i've made this year. here goes nothing!

Games

ghost story is a point-and-click mystery made in unity as my final project for code coven's IGM course!! I genuinely think we managed a pretty solid concept and execution in two weeks, and if you like murder mysteries, this is for you!

lungs to burn is a short poem game made for the may 2023 bitsy jam, talking about wildfires, grief, and queer connection. featured in both indiepocalypse #43 and hand eye society's SUPERFestival. in general, the response i got for this one was kinda overwhelming (and a little confusing), but i'm glad it resonated with people! still very proud of it.

no postage required is another bitsy game, this time made for the trans game dev server jam. a somewhat-sequel to the end is near; or a letter to a lost love. there are definitely things i'd redo with this one but all in all, not too bad!

Zines

Kriah: a personal zine about some of my experiences with antisemitism over the years. definitely a heavy read but honestly i stand by it just as much as when i wrote it? idk as someone who has a lot of trauma from years of antisemitic harassment, this has been a WEIRD fucking year, and it's weird to revisit something i wrote at the beginning of the year that feels even more relevant now.

how to the hold the pain is a collage/web weaving zine i did for this year's blaseball zine jam, using blaseball narratives as a way to view crip theory and vice versa. i spent a LOT of time reading through articles for this (both academic and other) and every second of it was worth it. genuinely one of my favourite things i made all year.

Fic

i wrote a lot less fic this year than the previous two for a multitude of reasons but i still put out a few bangers!! here's a brief selection of my favourites:

swallow your guilt (blaseball, 13.2k), a story about the new seattle garages, the old chicago firefighters, grief, and finally growing up, all through the biased eyes of one baby "ruthless" triumphant

spectroscopy, or a snapshot of a light and that which it absorbs (blaseball, 2.6k), the coda to my bright zimmerman series. i technically wrote this in the fall of 2022 but posted it in march so it still counts.

somewhere there's a fire burning (rogue one, 1k), a character study of bohdi rook between the destructions of nijedha and scarif. my first non-blb fic! and still a banger imo

i play dead, come alive (hatchetfield, 12x100), character study of stephanie lauter during the events of npmd. now officially my most popular fic and honestly i'm good with that!!! i think it's a solid little fic.

just all of corona borealis. i did some good stuff about grief and growth this year y'all.

the back half of this year was mostly filled with portfolio updating, job hunting, and just generally struggling with everything lol but!!! i still made some cool stuff and am hoping to get more back to making stuff next year! it's where i feel most at home. have fun checking these out if you do!

[richincolor]

Title: The Last Bloodcarver Author: Vanessa Le Genres: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Mystery Pages: 384 Publisher: Roaring Brook Press Review Copy: eARC provided via NetGalley Availability: Available now

Summary: Nhika is a bloodcarver. A coldhearted, ruthless being who can alter human biology with just a touch.

In the industrial city of Theumas, Nhika is seen not as a healer, but a monster that kills for pleasure. And in the city's criminal underbelly, the rarest of monsters are traded for gold. When Nhika is finally caught by the infamous Butchers, she's forced to heal the last witness to a high-profile murder.

As Nhika delves into the investigation, all signs point to Ven Kochin, an alluring yet entitled physician's aide. Despite his relentless attempts to push her out of his opulent world, something inexplicable draws Nhika to him. But when she discovers Kochin is not who he claims to be, Nhika will be faced with a greater, more terrifying evil lurking in the city's center...

Her only chance to survive lies in a terrible choice—become the dreaded monster the city fears, or risk jeopardizing the future of her kind.

Review: [The Last Bloodcarver includes a significant amount of body horror, from interacting with corpses to repeated references to medical experimentation by a colonial power. The book also includes animal death and extended scenes of characters seriously injured (stab/gunshot wounds).]

I absolutely adored Vanessa Le’s The Last Bloodcarver. Le’s debut novel is set in a complicated Vietnam-inspired fantasy (and science fiction) world, one where war has forced Nhika’s family out of Yarong and into the neutral city-state of Theumas. Even though Nhika has escaped into (currently) neutral territory, Daltanny’s occupation of Yarong still affects Nhika, from the proliferation of the term “bloodcarver” instead of “heartsooth” to the loss of cultural knowledge regarding heartsoothing after Nhika’s grandmother’s death.

That cultural disconnect and the loss of knowledge is something that haunts Nhika throughout the novel. She is keenly aware of her much she doesn’t know and has complicated feelings about how she uses her heartsoothing to survive when the previous generations could do it openly and were honored for it. Theumas might be better for Nhika than Yarong under Daltanny’s occupation, since she isn’t automatically slated for horrific medical “experiments”, but Theumas has its own problems. When the Butchers capture and arrange to sell Nhika, the prospective buyers range from people who think if they consume her heart, they will be cured of whatever ails them, to people who clearly want to use her as an assassin. Even when she is purchased by the Congmi family to try to heal a family friend (and promised freedom and payment even if she can’t help him), fear, suspicion, and hostility are close at hand.

So it’s wonderful whenever Nhika is able to make small connections to what she has lost. (There is a scene where she acquires some Yarongese items and is overwhelmed by what they represent that is just lovely.) Whenever Nhika made the choice to heal and to help, I was delighted by her determination to honor what her grandmother taught her. I appreciated the contrast Kochin represented to Nhika’s experience and the places where the two of them were aligned. Kochin was a character that I didn’t warm up to until after his reveal, but I think his character arc complemented Nhika’s very well.

The mystery of who killed Quan and seriously injured Hendon isn’t a complex one, but unraveling the mystery is far less important than Nhika learning why it happened. Once we have that information, the rest of the book falls into place beautifully. Le’s plotting and development of themes really shined in the second half and propelled the novel to an incredible final act that made me fervently hope there would be a sequel. (And there will be!)

Recommendation: Get it now, so long as you aren’t put off by body horror, medical experimentation, and some gore. Vanessa Le created a fascinating fantasy/sci-fi world in The Last Bloodcarver, and the impacts of war and colonialism on Nhika and her people are explored in interesting ways while a murder mystery unfolds in the foreground. Le’s medical-based magic system is fascinating, and Nhika’s character journey is compelling. I’m looking forward to the conclusion of this duology next year.

Extras: Author Chat w/ Vanessa Le | Books and Boba

Q&A: Vanessa Le, Author of ‘The Last Bloodcarver’

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Manfred von Karma

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The Ace Attorney series has no shortage of iconic prosecutors going up against Phoenix Wright in court, but most of them aren’t really Psycho Analysis material. Edgeworth, Franziska, Nahyuta, Blackquill, and even Winston Payne are all simply antagonistic and ultimately are revealed to be good people when it comes down to it, while Klavier Gavin is outright a nice guy—it is his defense attorney brother who’s an irredeemable monster. There are only a small handful of legitimately villainous prosecutors who will be covered, and one of them is the epitome of an anti-villain. But this guy here that I’m reviewing now? He is easily one of the biggest bastards in the entire franchise.

Manfred von Karma is a prosecutor obsessed with the idea of perfection, and he seeks to achieve it both in and out of the courtroom. He’s ruthless, unscrupulous, and will do anything to achieve victory, be it by manipulating and destroying evidence or orchestrating an over-complicated revenge scheme. And on top of it all, he is one of the single most important antagonists in the series; in fact, he kickstarted the entire plot with his actions.

Motivation/Goals: Von Karma is absolutely obsessed with the idea of perfection, and to this end he concocted the most absolute, perfect revenge against the family that tarnished his perfect prosecution record. Gregory Edgeworth got him penalized back in the day, so von Karma seized upon a golden opportunity and murdered him in cold blood, which turned into the DL-6 incident—something that pretty much set the stage for the whole series.

But that’s a bit too mundane for a man like von Karma, so he didn’t stop there! He took in the son of his most hated rival, warped him into becoming a ruthless prosecutor, and then on the eve of the statue of limitations running out on DL-6 manipulated events to get his protege framed for murder, be it that of Hammond or his own father. Von Karma is just incapable of settling for something simple and clean, the man wants to completely and utterly decimate the Edgeworth name’s respectability for the slight against him.

Breakdown: Befitting the final boss of the game, von Karma’s breakdown is absolutely spectacular. Once you finally reveal him as the killer of Gregory Edgeworth because of that bullet he carelessly left embedded in his shoulder, he lets out a massive screen-rumbling roar as images of DL-6 flash onscreen.

Then he smashes his head on the wall, all while ranting about Edgeworth. It is incredibly satisfying to watch this smug bastard fall apart after being so thoroughly trounced by our rookie protagonist, and it really seals the deal on Wright's character development over the course of the game alongside Edgeworth's.

Final Fate: Von Karma is in a very small pool of Ace Attorney villains we get a definitive word on the ultimate fate of, with most others only getting ambiguous demises at the hands of the judicial system or otherwise imprisonment. By the time of the third game, he is explicitly stated to be “gone from this world.” Whether he was executed, killed himself, or simply died from natural causes is of course left to your imagination, but it’s still reassuring to know the bastard is dead after everything he put the heroes through.

Evilness: On the surface, Manfred seemingly pales in comparison to later villains like multiple murderer Dahlia Hawthorne, professional killer Shelley De Killer, or international espionage master “The Phantom,” as he only ever killed a single person (albeit a very important person, with the killing done out of spite). A single murder isn’t really enough to get a high Evilness score, no matter what the reason is.

But then you think about his decades-long prosecution career where he did literally everything he could to get a conviction. How many innocent people did the Demon Prosecutor send to an early grave despite their innocence? And look at how he adopted the son of the man he killed and warped him into his antithesis just to get one over on the man who put a mark on his perfect record; that shit is beyond diabolical. That’s not even getting into how he treated his own daughter.

I think it’s honestly wild how even with all that to consider, he’s still not the most evil guy in the franchise. He’s a 9/10 on the evil scale, a truly nasty, monstrous piece of work who is theoretically responsible for dozens upon dozens of deaths of innocents, and is most definitely a warped, vindictive bastard.

Final Thoughts & Score: Von Karma is one of the best Ace Attorney villains, but I think he kind of suffers from how the game he appears in is structured. Like this dude is monumentally important to the entire plot, the whole series wouldn’t have happened at all without his actions, and yet he appears in one single case at the end of the game, which doesn’t leave a great deal of time to expand upon him the way the other prosecutors of the series get expanded on. By all accounts, he should be just as pitiful as Redd White is

The thing is, though, that von Karma manages to cram so much personality into his limited time onscreen that he becomes unforgettable for all the right reasons. Unlike White, we get several courtroom segments where we have to contend with his manipulative antics and none of the battles with him disappoint—fitting for the man who taught Miles Edgeworth. And again, unlike White, von Karma manages to have a meaningful impact and presence beyond his only appearance; his daughter is the antagonistic prosecutor of Justice For All, and he pops up in a couple of cases in the Investigations games, one of which is a flashback to the case where Gregory Edgeworth gave him his one and only penalty.

I think what really helps von Karma stand out is just how vindictive he is. Frankly, the sheer insane lengths the man goes to for his revenge is utterly disturbing for something so incredibly petty. So many killers do the deed for equally petty and self-servng reasons, but outside of Kristoph Gavin none of them are as terrifyingly shallow as von Karma and none of them go to the same insane, absurd lengths he does to crush those who he views as having wronged him. He is one of the single pettiest bitches in the entire series.

I think von Karma manages a nice 9.5/10. He’s really only held back slightly by his extremely limited screentime, but he certainly makes the most of it whenever he appears. It’s honestly pretty amazing that the first game managed to have both an excellent significant plot-relevant villain and a pathetic significant villain who barely makes a splash, but any flaws White brought to this game are easily forgotten when Manfred shows up. He’s just a great final boss, plain and simple… or he would be if it weren’t for the bonus case. But that’s a Psycho Analysis for another time.

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 18 – Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower by Tamsyn Muir

This is the first in the giant pile of shorter books and novellas I’ve been powering through over the last three weeks to catch up with my extremely aspirational ‘read and review 60 books in 2023’ new years resolution. It’s also possibly the only thing longer than a short story I’ve listened to in audiobook format in, like, a decade? (and that was one of the Veronica Mars spinoff novels).

All to say I may have rushed this one a bit more than I should have to properly appreciate it, and definitely didn’t retain as much from listening to it as I would from reading it. So this is going to be shorter and probably sloppier than previous reviews.

And with all those disclaimers out of the way – this was such a fun fucking book.

The basic premise is that a witch has kidnapped a princess and locked her at the very top of her tower until a prince fights his way up forty floors of monsters (as is the done thing among witches). Unfortunately, this time the witch has rather outdone herself, and the diamond-scaled dragon she has to on the ground floor (putting the most expensive monster on the ground floor being the sort of artistic, avante-garde move this witch wanted to try) turns out to be really quite excellent at the job of prince-slaying. So it’s left to Princess Floralinda, with the variably voluntary help of a stranded fairy by the name of Cobweb, to fight her way all the way down the tower and free herself.

I’ve always really loved the whole fractured fairy tale genre when it’s done with the right sort of sense of humour, and Muir is just perfect at it. Dry and sardonic without ever really tipping all the way into meanspirtedness, and always playful and willing to indulge in a bit of absurdity. Listening to it as an audiobook really did help as well, I think – the narrator was just a delight, and had an amazing sense of timing and delivery for most of the jokes.

I know I say this about altogether too many things, but the whole novella honestly reminded me quite a lot of the old adventure games I played as a kid? Both the tone and just the fact that so many problems required the ruthless exploitation of the automatically regenerating bread, orange and water the witch had left Floralinda with. ‘Use bread knife and fire on curtain rod to make a spear you can use to fight the goblins with’ just very much seems like the sort of thing that would end up in a GameFAQs walkthrough, you know?

Speaking of ruthless exploitation – Cobweb and their interactions with Floralinda were just a delight. Honestly wish fewer words had been devoted to mechanically working their way down floors so we could get more on their dynamic developing. But then I’m a sucker for affection hidden behind sarcastic unpleasantness.

And they are both really truly unpleasant at times, in amusing sorts of ways. Floralinda’s whole arc takes her from sheltered passivity to something more active and terrifying, but it never exactly makes her likeable. Which, to be clear, is not a complaint. Quite the opposite, really. Muir really is excellent at writing spiky women.

Anyway yeah, not the most substantial read in the world, but incredibly fun time.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

When you are writing a new chapter for a fic, how do you decide what to put in, and what to leave out?

I see a lot of advice about killing your darlings - whittling the scene down until it contains only what's necessary to advance the plot.

But I also see advice that says it's okay to include more than this, because you need to advance the characters as well, by giving them quiet moments in between all of the plot advancing parts.

I really struggle to find the balance. I love writing the quiet moments, and fleshing the characters out, but sometimes these moments run away on me, and I end up with a bloated mess that barely advances the plot at all.

Do you have a process or a rule-of-thumb you follow, to help you decide what does or doesn't make the cut?

How easy do you find it to remove stuff later, when you realize the story is better without it? Do you cry and have wine while you bury your dead, or are you a ruthless assassin? :)

Oh man, great question.

I’m going to answer for what for my original fiction. I don’t heavily edit my fanfics in any meaningful capacity, as any of my readers can attest, since that is my hobby and editing is work. Also, since it is my hobby, I am pretty self indulgent with what I include. I meander and wander all over the place with my plots and don’t keep them as tight as they probably need to be.

Exhibit A, the visual representation of the plot of Thus, Always 2.0 (one line being present day and the second being the past):

But for my original fiction, there’s a very long, drawn out process of editing.

For House of No Return, the current book (known as The Venetians in my tags), I wrote out the first draft. In that draft I put all the self indulgent stuff I wanted. Character studies, side plots, random asides, plot cul-de-sacs, and so on.

Then, when done, I rewrote the entire thing. Top to bottom second draft. This is because, by the time I was done with draft one, I knew my characters a lot better than when I started. I knew, more clearly, the story I wanted to tell. I had a better vision of how the plot should work.

Once the second (or third) draft is done, I let it sit. Ideally, you should let it sit for a few months. I don’t have patience and am riddled with a deep need to always be writing, so I can usually only make it a few weeks.

When I take it back out, I print out the manuscript and read it in one or two sittings. This is because I need to remember what the fuck I was doing. As I read, I make margin notes of where I bump or where things drag a bit. My second read through is much more methodical. I sit with a note book and jot out a detailed outline as I read. When I eventually type them up they usually look something like this:

As I read through the outline, that’s where I can see if there are baggy parts that need trimming. When I note them, I decide whether to completely remove, or shorten, or shift to another part of the story, or if I can convey any central information in other areas.

Sometimes colour coding helps – highlighting all the parts that are faster paced in red, the slower bits in green, the pure character study bits in blue (or what have you). The visual representation helps me, at least, see if there’s a part that’s bunched up with only one colour and may need to be broken out a bit.

I make edits to my outline in blue, usually, of what needs to be added or changed when I go to do the next big rewrite.

--

Throughout this whole outline review process, I’m also thinking through what sort of plot pattern/design best serves the story. There are a lot out there and each has a purpose and can strengthen aspects of the story that’s being told.

Good reference: Meander, Spiral, Explode: Design and Pattern in Narrative by Jane Alison.  

For House of No Return, it’s a pretty classic mountain form: start | rising action | point no return | climax | resolution.

Something a bit like this with the little plateaus representing times when the plot slows for a bit to allow the reader a break and an opportunity to sit with a character or an emotion or some new information.

These breaks can also ratchet up tension and help keep people on the edge of their seat. The horror genre is a great example of this. You know that when we’re having a quiet character moment, or a humourous moment, we’re about to get something horrific on the other side of it and we’re in trepidation until it happens. But the book can’t be all horrific moments or else the audience gets bored.

(Unless the author is Doing Something/There’s a Purpose Being Served in having 85,000-100,000 words of only horrific moments. Which can abosolutely be the case! Again, it’s about what you’re trying to do, how to best tell the story, and fundamentally what that story needs to be.)

Grief and trauma writing also benefit from the breaks. I think about this in fics where it’s all bleak torture and there’s no resting or lighter moments—it’s hard on the audience. Which, again, can be the author’s intent! And that’s fine! But usually if you want to keep people going with you on the journey you need to give them breaks. That is just reality.

So, when writing the classic model I would say write, write, write. Get every thing onto the page. Every little indulgement moment, every little character study etc.

Then think about how you want the story to be paced. Do you want it a heart pounding fast paced piece? Then yeah, trim it down to mostly bare bones with just enough breaks for character study/get the audience invested in who they’re reading about and to give them a bit of a breather. But it should be super tight, over all.

Steep, steep, steep – little moments here and there for a break – then shattering fall and people should be reading going “what the fuuuuck is going to happen next??” (Grady Hendrix is a master of this.)

 Some traditional mountains, though, are slower.

There's a long, langurous start. We’re all along for a gentle ride then it begins to build bit by bit until we realize we’re riding down the Tuscan hillside in a cart with no breaks.

This is the sort of story where you can really relish your character studies and soft moments between people and little side bits. But you do need to keep enough movement to keep the audience interested. This is one that is harder to pull off because the balance can be tricky.

I tend to write like this. Hilary Mantel has books that hit this kind of approach. Silvia Moreno-Garcia’s Mexican Gothic is a good example of a slow burn start but a good ride at the end. Laura Purcell’s The Silent Companions is another example.

-

All that said, not all stories need to follow the traditional approach! Some are meant to be tangled meditations. A lot of weaving, a lot of introspection, the story is more about the journey and not the destination. Sometimes the plots look a little like this:

Peak Literary Experimental Fiction shit right here. This can be a lot of character study, a lot of philosophical musings, a lot tangents or backtracking or jumping around a little. Justin Torres’ Blackouts is a great example of a meandering story that is as much about the characters and their conversations as it is about queerness and history.

Other stories are meant to be rolling hills or waves: up and down, up and down.

Jane Austin has a bit of a wave quality to some of her stories, not all, but some. Long, drawn out family epics that span generations tend to have this quality to them. Books like Pillars of the Earth tend to be more wavey than mountain climax.

-----

Anyway. I've done a diversion myself. Back to editing.

When I’m doing my trimming, I don’t have an exact process for determining what makes the cut or what stays. I go with my gut on a lot of it. Sometimes, there are scenes that are hitting the same note but coming at it in different ways.

Cristof’s anxiety over his friend’s gambling addiction, and his guilt around feeling as if he is enabling it, is something I overwrote in the first few drafts because I was trying to understand the psychology of their friendship and Cristof’s own inner demons. Therefore, as I trimmed, I picked three key things that the audience needed to know about Cristof and Jacopo and made sure those were captured. I cut and trimmed accordingly.

However, I do have some babies that get reused in different places once I realize the original scene wasn’t working.

This stupid joke was originally in a completely different scene and was said by different characters but that scene wasn’t working and so I had to cut it. But I was very enamoured with this little interaction, so I found a way to incorporate it.

-

It’s also important to remember that some character studies/the resting pauses can be brief. By all means write out the full seven page version but I bet it’s possible to trim it down to a really powerful short beat that can pack a bit of a punch. Writing out the full seven pages is sometimes necessary to get at the heart of what you’re trying to say. Then cut it back.

I had a full multi-page version of this paragraph:

But it’s a rest-beat in the middle of the apothecary/barbershop scene that is moving the plot along, and therefore this memory/character beat needed to be tight. Still, we get a bit of a glimpse at Cristof and Nicolo through it, and while it might not seem important on the surface, we do need to care about these two idiots and the fact that they’re dumb about each other and in love.  

-

Quiet moments can also be interspersed within action. You can weave them through, so you have:

Active Scene/Plot Moving

Restful introspection or memory

Back to the Active Scene.

If done right it can give a bit of a melodious, wave-like quality to what you’re writing. It’s not for every story, nor every scene, and shouldn’t be overused (I may be guilty of that), but it allows you to still get in those meaningful character moments without stopping the plot too much.

As for the ease with which I kill darlings? Depends on the darling. Some are easier than others. Some I like, but if I can incorporate the important bits in another fashion then I’m fine with it. The more I write, the more I edit, the more ruthless I become.

--

A lot of this is, fundamentally, all about practice and doing it a lot. And also all writing rules aren’t rules so much as broad guidelines and each story has its own needs and requirements to make it work.

Apologies for the long reply. I'm not sure it's what you're after but I hope it helps. There is, unfortunately, no "quick trick" that I have to do it. It's really just a very involved process.

[princesssarisa]

As I've been rewatching the different film versions of A Christmas Carol this year, I've been noticing something that I didn't even notice last year as I reviewed them for A Christmas Carol Holiday Season. Without changing the fundamentals of the story, different versions bring out different aspects of Scrooge's character arc.

It's similar to the phenomenon I've noticed in different screen and stage adaptations of fairy tales. For example, the way some versions of Cinderella are about the value of kindness, others are about never losing hope in the face of adversity, others about an outcast finding acceptance and love, others about an abuse victim discovering her own self-worth and inner strength, etc.

I suppose A Christmas Carol is a modern literary fairy tale, so it's no surprise that different adaptations find very different meanings in it.

For example:

Alastair Sim's 1951 Scrooge was once a good-hearted young idealist, but due to various external factors – his lonely childhood, his beloved sister Fan's death, the corrupt Mr. Jorkin replacing Fezziwig as his employer and mentor, and finally the loss of his fiancée Alice – he gradually came to view the world as a "hard and cruel place." So he steeled himself against it by turning cold and ruthless. The ghosts' job is to show him that the world isn't as cruel as he thinks it is; to remind him of all the kind, caring people both from his past and in his present, and to show him that kindness is the real solution to human suffering, while hardening himself has only caused and will cause more suffering, both for others and for himself.

Albert Finney's 1970 musical Scrooge is less icy than Sim's and more of a bitter, misanthropic workaholic who's forgotten how to appreciate the joys of living. Due to his lonely, awkward youth and the shattering loss of his fiancée Isabel, he declares "I hate life because life hates me!" and regards other people as leeches and fools, while seeing himself as a fine, upstanding gentleman forced to put up with them. The ghosts' job is to snap him out of his self-delusion and self-pity, and to teach him to joyfully live life to the fullest – which includes spreading kindness and cheer to others as well as enjoying himself – while he still can. A sharp reminder of his own mortality ensures that he learns the lesson.

For Michael Caine's Scrooge in The Muppet Christmas Carol, the emphasis is more on the lack of love in his life. Because he was neglected as a child and taught only to value business by Sam the Eagle his stern schoolmaster, he's never quite understood human bonds, and when he had one bright, shining chance for a different life through his love for Belle, he let it slip away. As a result, years of loneliness have turned him harsh and cold. The ghosts' job is to teach him the importance of love – both personal love of family and friends and more general love for his fellow Muppets and man – and to force him to admit how unhappy he is being alone with no one to love or to love him, breaking his heart until he changes.

I haven't managed to rewatch George C. Scott, Patrick Stewart, et al this year. But since the Christmas season technically lasts until January 6th, I plan to rewatch them, and I'm sure I'll find similarly unique spins on Scrooge's character arc.

All of these approaches are valid. They all draw on aspects of Scrooge's journey in the book. But each approach adds to the unique identity of each adaptation.

@ariel-seagull-wings, @cliozaur, @warrioreowynofrohan, @bliss-bliss-bliss-bliss

[rruhlreviews]

Book Review - First Blood by David Morrell

Long before I knew there was a book called First Blood, I knew “Rambo” meant someone who went into situations with guns blazing, like Die Hard or John Wick. After reading it, I see how film and pop culture have turned the character into something strikingly different. I have never seen the movies, so my review will speak only of the book First Blood. What made the book so special? Would it be as well-known without the film adaptations? Thrillers are naturally inclined to be popular, just like the romance genre, for titillating the audience’s emotions and allowing them to vicariously experience adrenaline. Despite the fact the thriller genre tends to be more plot than character driven, First Blood is unique in the action being completely motivated by the characters’ emotions. This made for a powerful story I could not put down, a modern revenge tragedy, whose popularity was certainly due to its relevance to contemporary issues.

I was excited to learn David Morrell was a Penn State alum, which is not my alma mater but is my state! My copy contained a foreword from the author, in which he explained the idea came from flipping through the news (just like how Suzanne Collins got the idea for The Hunger Games). He saw coverage of the Vietnam war, violence in inner city America, and a story in which police officers arrested ‘troublemaker’ hippies, shaved their hair, and dropped them off in the middle of the desert. He thought, “What if I wrote a book in which the Vietnam war literally came home to America?” (Morrell 3)

On the surface level, it’s a story about men shooting each other, like a Western. Exciting enough for that target audience, but First Blood isn’t any thriller. Deeper, it’s an anti-war reflection that caused division within the divided society it was written for. First Blood was highly relevant to the issues of the 1970s and contains complex, compelling characters in which you really can’t tell who was the protagonist and who was the antagonist.

Neither Rambo nor Teasle are the “good guy” and I felt like we weren’t supposed to be rooting for either of them. Both are larger than life characters, but especially Rambo. See: the connotation of the name in pop culture. No one should be able to keep running with that many injuries, dehydration, broken ribs, fevers, bat bites, and bullet wounds. I would think no one can kill over a dozen men in a quick ambush, during a flash flood, with aforementioned broken ribs. Teasle similarly keeps going despite witnessing the death of his father figure, nearly having a heart attack, and finally dragging himself along with a hole in his abdomen.

As a side note to break up this gritty review about a gritty book: we got a solid appearance description for Rambo, but I don’t remember one for Teasle, and towards the end of the book I realized I should have been imagining him with a notable moustache because it was the 1970s. I must also mention, the sexism was very 1970s. There's the part where Teasle is thinking about Orval's wife and wondering who she'll cook and clean for with her husband dead. Because all women are good for is housework, right? Terrible.

I’ll admit didn’t care for Teasle, coming from the perspective of someone who doesn’t like cops who harass and arrest people for non-crimes such as ‘loitering’ just because they want an ego trip. It happens too often in the real world. No matter what Teasle said about the law or wanting a distraction from his divorce, I read between the lines to know he was ruthless in his pursuit because Rambo had disrespected him. Similarly, Rambo snapped not only because of PTSD and seeing the prison cell; he was refusing to cooperate even before getting arrested because Teasle had disrespected him. I was almost rooting for Rambo to escape, though I knew he wouldn’t. I felt like the Green Beret, proud of how skilled he was. I knew Rambo was not thinking straight, that to him, he was in Vietnam and not Kentucky. It made him a little easier for me to sympathize with than the police officer, though he lost most of my sympathy once his priority stopped being escape and he started hunting for sport.

Even though I agreed with absolutely nothing the characters were doing, I understood every single choice they made and the pathos behind it. Their characterizations were crystal clear, which is something I admire as a fellow writer. Furthermore, I was delighted by the parallel structure of the story. It begins with Rambo and Teasle meeting at a gas station where they butt heads over who is allowed into the town, and it ends with gas stations exploding while Rambo and Teasle hunt each other through town. The ending was cathartic. Despite me not liking either character, I understood both of them, which had me choked up at the end. It could not have ended any other way. This feels bizarre to say, but I was happy the book had the finale it did. I would have been disappointed if it ended in any other way but them killing each other. Their stories were too connected at that point. The hunt becomes a type of love. Teasle was seeing through “the kid’s” eyes. They were both so far past the point of no return, their entire lives narrowed down to one purpose—to defeat the other—so that once their goal was done, they’d have nothing else to live for/no more purpose as a character.

What was the purpose of all of it? All those men died in the woods and the town was burned down, just because a cop harassed a man who was doing nothing but walking down the street? There was no point to the level of bloodshed, but this is a book about the Vietnam war, and it carries the theme that there was no purpose for the war. The scene resonated with me with the Green Beret training officer saying he hated the war, but did his job because he wanted to teach the kids the government sent into the slaughter to stay alive longer. Teasle and Rambo both grew up being taught how to kill and little else. They both brought the war to America.

It’s a tragedy, through and through. It’s Shakespearean. Act I: Rambo is arrested and starts to run. Act II, the rising action: Teasle begins pursuit. Act III, the climax: Rambo kills everyone but Teasle. Act IV, the falling action: Rambo continues to evade pursuit. Act V, the conclusion: the fight in the town and the death of the tragic heroes. Rambo and Teasle both occupy an honored position in society, holding medals, they both have a tragic flaw—the ego/hubris of the classics—which causes the tragedy to happen, and they meet an end they cannot be restored from—death.

[truly-morgan]

[Alternative Universe, Foreign king and author]

MoShang | Scum Villain Self-Saving System 06-07-2021

One of the settings I really like in moshang AU is mbj still a king, but sqh is either some unknown author or someone who travels around while writing.

Like, something happens to mini mbj because lgj tried to get rid of him to get to the throne.

But then you have also mini sqh who just accidentally swooped in by accident and saved mini mbj, hence fucking up lgj plans. Found little heir in the wood all injured? No problem, he can help him!

Found a strange demon child locked in the middle of nowhere? No problem, he'll Find a way to open the cage!

Found a foreign child who was dropped in their region to die alone since no one understand him? No problem, sqh will help him find people that can take him back home!

Young sqh will just be there to help him and mbj will /never/ forget about it.

Cue years later, sqh practically forgot that weird thing of his past and just goes around trying to make a living by helping keep books account for Marchant and selling his stories.

But his stories are all signed with a little symbol he always as used (because he likes it That way and no one else does it that way anyway! Its original).

The thing is, the symbol is the same as what was maybe on a robe (or paper inside his robe) he left to mbj (poor thing he must be cold, take my outer robe!). Maybe it was on a little map he drew for him.

Some of his writings travel to the neighbour northern kingdom where King mbj catches some of them and recognise said little symbol from his saviour.

So he sends people to go find that author and it's a bit hard since sqh uses a pen name and isn't known despite some of his Really popular pieces. The kingdom is looked through and through, every scholar (is that the name?) Must send an example so mbj can review it.

Sqh is so scared and confused when this scary king suddenly gets to his crappy home to take him back to the northern kingdom At least this is what he understands from the little understanding he has of the language they use in the north when guards talk between themselves without telling him much in his own language.

When sqh gets there he stays mostly in his room, trying to warm himself without complaining, js fear of angering them, but his cheap robes don't help much.

He wonders why the northern king wants him.

Did some of his writing anger him? There's a reason he stays mostly anonymous and it's not just because of the rather erotic writing he does, but because he will critic the people in charge and how things are being taken care of, and it doesn't stop at his previous king.

He is actually surprised (and relieved!) That no one ever figured out it was him, listening to people either condemning him for his critics or praising him for his stories and poems.

But now he fears that the northern king has taken offence to his words towards their kingdom And now wants him dead. Wouldn't an assassin be better?! Not like he would be hard to kill?! Maybe the king is as ruthless as he has heard and wants to do it with his own hands?

So he waits in the room, hiding under the cover of the bed (it is also warmer like this) Yet no one comes to get him, only the servant brings in seemed to be the little belonging, all taken by the guard before coming here, to put them in drawer and chest.

He is finally called to meet with the king late in the day, but he is surprised when he is brought to A private dining room, where the king is already waiting for him. He is still shaking like a leaf as his sitting down (he now remembers why he stopped living near the border, it so cold up here!)

He doesn't dare say more than a polite salutation in the northern dialect (as best as he can do, his years working near the border coming to some help right now, even though he never learned the language fully).

It's, even more, nerve-wracking how the king himself doesn't speak to him more than also great him concisely.

When the food is brought to him he looks at it a bit uncertain, unsure if this could be poisoned or not, but under the intense stare from the man in front of him he does eat. And this is how his first day after being kidnapped went: hiding in his cover, eating anxiously and silently, going back to hiding in his room.

The only thing that changed in the following days is that he has started being more familiar with his room, where he writes while still tuck into his cover.

He also gets used to the couple of servants that come to his room for what he may need. Neither side fully know the other language, but they still manage with what they know (sqh is working on learning it a bit more by himself after asking for book that can help to learn his language).

Eventually little shivering sqh mentions that he is a bit cold (The winter where he lived was not as harsh as here!), which then leads to mbj taking him to his quarter and asking for a tailor to make him news robes to his size. of course little shivering sqh is confused as all hell because, /why/ would the man he assumes wants to get rid of him make him some expensive, pretty and warm robes?!?

But when he gets them not too long after he doesn't complain when he finally is not cold anymore.

meanwhile, he is still asked to eat with mbj each night, except if the man has a duty he cannot put aside (which, servant will take the food to his room instead). He slowly gets used to the man's presence and realises that /maybe/ he just wanted him around? For some reason?

they can even talk (although sqh does most of the talking) and slowly sqh realise that it's not so bad to be around mbj. He tries to keep himself from mentioning things that might be inconvenient to instead tell the king what he needs directly (last time he mentioned off-handedly that he was going to soon run out of paper and ink and the next thing he knew he had supplies that could last him for months! And months of /him/ writing a lot. mbj even gave him new expensive brushes!)

Then soon the routine of mbj coming to /his/ room to read the latest thing he wrote came, to which sqh was a bit nervous about when it was getting more political or taboo.

Yet the man would still manage to make him ramble about his thoughts on his original Kingdome slowly guiding him towards the northern one. the first time mbj did this sqh didn't notice until he was trashing some of the outdated ways the Kingdome was dealing with foreign exchanges.

yet, all mbj did was nod along, as if agreeing and not looking angry (sqh can proudly say he managed to read mbj micro expression, he knows now that he's not necessarily in a bad mood, this is just his resting face).

And what if slowly mbj gives him small important task. Like keeping account of something, then asking advice on small things, then giving him commands over some more important thing.

mbj slowly makes sqh someone important (because sqh can do the job very well) and sqh is none the wiser, doing the job he is given, happy when he is allowed to change the outdated ways to do things for something better.

sqh doesn't see it necessarily since he doesn't go out much, but everyone can see changes. They see changes because mbj listens and /follows/ sqh suggestions!

everyone working in the palace slowly starts to recognise sqh as more than the foreign writer, appreciating him a lot, especially since he treats everyone well (unless you do him wrong, but then mbj better not hear of it either).

Even more, those who have worked in the palace for years (even decades!) notice how mbj seems less hard than he was before, how he seems to really enjoy this new sunshine he brought from the south. The little smile he has when sqh rambles about whatever wrong thing he found or about something that could be done in a better way, no one misses those smiles.

In all this sqh falls in love with mbj, but this wouldn't be a good AU if it wasn't about to slow burn and ✨pining✨, so of course he feels like he cannot tell mbj because he is not noble.

Of course, while sqh is slowly rebuilding the Kingdome ways of doing things to be more than a war machine like his previous king ran it and bringing even better property, lgj is tuning back to see /how/ his nephew is doing so well, because he /shouldn't/ be doing so good after he made sure his education on running a country was minimal and focused on outdated ways that even him knows ruin the country.

And he very much does not appreciate the new little helper mbj safely keep near him.

cue lgj attempting to (without success) cause problem to mbj public image, trying to sabotage sqh ways of doing (which is hard since people here seem more than happy to follow this nobody words, ugh) and finally tries to directly attack sqh with the man own feeling towards mbj Or maybe lgj uses sqh to try and push mbj out of his throne, but of course, the little one cannot let it pass and he won't let it happen without a fight.

Happy ending of course, where lgj is taken care of and mbj finally confesses to sqh (he nearly lost him without telling him!) and they reigned over the land together.

Maybe at some point, mbj would tell why he was looking for sqh, that he saved him when lgj first tried to get rid of him. Or maybe sqh figured it out by himself when he finds the thing he had left to mbj when he helped him.

This is a setting I like and now I want to write a full-on fanfic but I don't have the energy for it (and I already have others started)

Original

[elliepassmore]

A Sorceress Comes to Call review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, sorcerers/sorceresses, Victorian era, fairytales, T. Kingfisher

Big thanks to Netgalley, Tor Books, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review!

As usual, Kingfisher does not disappoint. Her books tend to fall into two categories: fairytale-esque or fantasy horror, and this one is one of the fairytale-esque ones. Like Nettle & Bone though, it does have some creepy elements.

The world this book is set in is a world of small magics. Sorcerers and sorceresses are known to put magic on things for petty reasons, such as to change hair color, cheat at cards, or get more money for a horse than it's worth. Big magic, like controlling people, is thought to be an old wives' tale. But Cordelia knows better. She may have led a sheltered life and not know what everyone else thinks of magic, but she knows what her mother can do, and her mother definitely utilizes the world's perception of magic to her advantage.

This book is very much a story of escaping abuse, and the support system that's necessary for doing so. Cordelia has lived her entire life under her mother's thumb, and while her mother doesn't lay a hand on her, she certainly prevents her from having any privacy and she does lay her magic on her. Hester recognizes something is off about Evangeline, Cordelia's mother, immediately, as does Cordelia's lady's maid (Alice) at the Squire's house. Hester wants to get rid of Evangeline before she can do something to her brother, but at the same time she wants to protect Cordelia. The scheme ends up involving multiple different people as they try to save Cordelia and the Squire. I really liked how everyone who was let in on what was going on immediately jumped on the bandwagon of getting rid of Evangeline, and even if they didn't believe Cordelia about the magic at first, they definitely believed her when she said something was wrong.

Hester is very no-nonsense and pretty much takes things in stride. She clocks Evangeline as Bad News before the woman even arrives at the door, and her perception ends up being frighteningly correct. Once Evangeline and Cordelia move in, and Hester gets to see how Cordelia behaves, she immediately sets about inviting some of her closest confidantes to the house in order to figure out what's going on and then get rid of Evangeline. I liked Hester and enjoyed seeing her interact with her friends. I also liked seeing the camaraderie she had with the staff of the house. She does harp a bit on being old, but if I'm not mistaken she's only in her 50s, which is middle-aged, not old (and this is coming from someone in her 20s, you're not old until you're in your 70s!).

Cordelia is a young teen who's been almost entirely isolated from the outside world and subject to her mother's cruelties and whims for her entire life. When exposed to the world, she's not only not quite sure how to act, but also terrified of getting something wrong and bringing her mother's wrath down on her and the household. I liked seeing Cordelia get the chance to blossom and discover that she's charming and has her own strengths. I also liked that she made friends with Hester and Hester's friends, and that they took her under their wing not just for protection but because they liked her. Cordelia definitely grows into herself throughout the book and becomes quite bold. By the end, while she's still scared of her mother, she understands that she's her own person and that she does have the strength to fight against her, particularly when there are other people on her side.

The side characters were all lovely (not Evangeline) and I really enjoyed reading their interactions. Imogene is a longtime friend of Hester's and is not only very no-nonsense, but she's sharp as a tack and has a nice streak of ruthlessness in her. She has no qualms about suggesting they push Evangeline down the stairs to solve their problem. Penelope Greene was a wonderful character of a person and I enjoyed her not-too-over-the-top over-the-topness. She's bold and doesn't care what anyone else thinks. Richard (Lord Evermore) balances out the group with a gentle pragmatism. He and Hester used to be lovers, and Hester kind-of-but-not-totally regrets not marrying him when he offered. Regardless, he stands as a good solid presence in the group and is immediately ready to believe Hester and do what needs to be done. You can also tell he's a man written by a woman because enduringly understanding of Hester and continues to love and support her, as well as the fact that (view spoiler). I also treasure Alice, Cordelia's lady's maid, who immediately clocks that something is wrong between Cordelia and Evangeline and immediately acts as Cordelia's protector before going to Hester with her concerns. The girls strike up a friendship and I liked that they got along so well. Tom is the butler of the house and a longtime friend of Hester and the Squire. He also immediately notices something off and is willing to go all-in on a plan to get rid of Evangeline. Tom also has some funny jokes that subtly reference the "butler did it" trope, which I enjoyed.

While the geese take a while to come into the story, I do appreciate the geese. There are a bunch of goose families where I live and I love seeing the babies each year, but a lot of people seem to dislike geese on principle, so I like that the geese are the good guys in this story. They add a humorous element to the story as well, once it's clear what their purpose is.

Overall, I greatly enjoyed this story and thought the characters were very strong. I liked seeing their relationships with one another and how they all interacted.