#this of course all ignores visible ages in the flashbacks but how are you supposed to rectify those? Jackson should have used younger actor

[bitterseaproduction]

The Hobbit’s official movie books really push the original timeline as the film one (despite 0 aging of characters in flashbacks pfft) BUT they also present Balin as the most ‘aged’ of the Company in both appearance and description at 178, despite Thorin — visibly far younger — being 17 years older than him.

It’s a conundrum, but I got an idea when I noticed Dwalin in the books supposedly lives to 340, even though a dwarf living to just 300 is supposed to be as rare as a human making it to 100! There’s been arguments that that was just a ‘typo’ on Tolkien’s part, but what if it wasn’t? What if we roll with that? Dwalin did look shockingly younger than Balin even though he’s just 9 years younger! That’s just 3 if you take it in human years!

So, using that 340 as inspiration and a base line, what if we say the direct line of Durin the Deathless plus the occasional offshoot like Dwalin just age slower than the typical dwarf? That their max baseline is closer to 300-350 or even 350-400 versus the usual 250-300? Because, if we go with, say, 400 as Thorin’s base max, suddenly we go from ‘Thorin should look older than Balin’ to ‘he’s in the human equivalent of his late 40s,’ and that seems much closer to the slightly aged up Richard Armitage we got in movies, doesn’t it?

This would also mean Thorin IS older than Balin despite their dynamic, but hey—sometimes your younger cousin is just wiser than you. 😂

[cybernaght]

Guardian rewatch: episode 10

The tone of this recap is going to be the crackiest so far. The production quality plummets dramatically here, in a way which is as unintentionally hilarious as it is endearing. I have very little of import to say on events of this episode, and there is nothing much for me to hyper focus on, so a lot of this write-up are snark and bad jokes. Apologies in advance. I would not be getting annoyed at a show I did not care about. 

Day two of the Road Trip starts with Zhao Yunlan waking up with a splitting headache and his own jacket draped carefully over him. I choose to believe Shen Wei left it there. 

Zhao Yunlan wakes up - and discovers that Wang Zheng had slipped a sedative into the party’s water, effectively knocking them all out. He even discovers that she left her doll-body behind as a decoy; thankfully, it’s still Li Siqi and not the blow-up doll from the previous episode. 

With the daunting realisation that he’s been betrayed, Zhao Yunlan instantly spirals into hurt and anger, and this is the moment Shen Wei chooses to appear out to nowhere. He enters offering comfort, his entire focus on making Zhao Yunlan feel better by assuring the man that his subordinate is not one of the bad guys, but rather one of the self-sacrificing ones. How SID manages to function when it’s full of people with non-existent sense of self-preservation is beyond me. 

“Professor Shen, why are you okay?”

Zhu Hong narrows her eyes. Zhao Yunlan’s look is the one of vulnerability, not suspicion, almost as if he is silently asking to please not be betrayed by his newest partner.

“I didn’t drink the water she gave me.”

Another thing I would like to question here is the reasoning behind Shen Wei waiting until the morning with this. He knew that Wang Zheng was about to do something, since he refrained from drinking the water she offered. Everyone else being unconscious would be a perfect opportunity for him to go full Hei Pao Shi on her, or follow her quietly, or do literally anything but wait for the morning. 

“What is your purpose of coming here?” Shen Wei asks because he needs to know how much Zhao Yunlan knows. He does so with a perfect set of puppy eyes. 

We cut to Wang Zheng entering the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, and witness the absolute devastation of her hearing her love’s voice for the first time in a century, as he mistakes her for the enemy and calls her a rat.

I should say that while I’m not always on board with Li Siqi in this show, props to her for acting her heart out opposite a literal pillar. Her reunion with Sang Zan is incredibly touching; she really is wonderful here.

Flashback 1. The execution of Ge Lan. 

This method of execution seems so inefficient, I actually tried to find if it has any legs in history. As my research yielded exactly no results, I am guessing this is the producers showing hanging without actually showing hanging. They kind of accidentally made the whole affair infinitely worse. People are weaker than gravity, the angle offers no possibility of the neck being broken, so this would be a very slow, and very painful death. Yikes, is all I can say. 

Flashback 2. The montage. 

Sigh.

This imagery is so carelessly contemporary it’s killing me. I’m not saying it’s completely impossible for the heart shape to have been known to represent love in this fictional tribe on a fictional planet. I’m just saying it’s a boring shorthand for romance, made worse by the fact that so much of the show’s imagery is otherwise fairly intelligent. I am not angry, I’m just disappointed.

Wang Zheng and Sang Zan’s reunion triggers another earthquake, which is felt all the way back in the village, and shortly thereafter Zhu Jiu interrupts the couple, knocking Wang Zheng out. This - her being knocked unconscious - cuts to Zhao Yunlan wincing while clutching at his temples, which almost implies that he can feel it when his people are in danger. Which would be very cool if true. 

Shen Wei, in the meanwhile is remarkably good at keeping his Professor’s mask on the whole time, offering enough information without betraying his own knowledge or motives, but it is clear by now that Zhao Yunlan starts to see right through it. 

The chief sprints into action when Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng arrive, instructing the two to join him in investigation. Shen Wei opens his mouth to volunteer to come with, but ends up hesitating before saying anything out loud. 

Zhu Hong, too, makes a move to go after the three men, but is firmly instructed to say behind and look after Shen Wei. She proceeds to loudly explain that this is the wrong time and place to be fussing over this guy. 

Shen Wei looks like he has no idea what to do with this display of emotion. 

Zhao Yunaln whispers to Zhu Hong to watch the professor for him: which could equally be him manipulating the Yashou into staying, or a sinking realisation that Shen Wei will actually try to join them either way, or genuine desire to find out what the professor will do next. Or, indeed, a combination of the above. Zhu Hong will attack her task with conviction. 

Sure enough, Shen Wei finally voices his desire to go with the group. Zhu Hong reminds him that he has his own people to look after and instructs him to return to the house with barely contained resentment. 

Shen Wei will predictably try to sneak out very shortly afterwards, and will be, equally predictably, caught by Zhu Hong. Why the man who can teleport would not just teleport out of the house before proceeding on foot is anyone’s guess. 

“He surprisingly views you as a good friend”, says Zhu Hong when she stops Shen Wei from leaving. “You surely noticed it, right?”

He certainly did, although he will always have trouble realising that he is actually cared about in a way which is anything but casual. 

Shen Wei obediently sits down and follows Zhu Hong’s instructions as she attempts to hypnotise him. Those instructions are anything but subtle. 

“Professor Shen, look at the flame closely”.

Meanwhile, the other party has successfully deduced the location of the Hanga tribe cave/shrine, and heads there, only to find no visible entrance. Thankfully, gaining access to the mountain is not particularly hard for the party. Mostly because this part of the mountain is made of foam.

This is where I want to metaphorically pat Guardian on its non-existent head, cooing, “Oh, Guardian. Baby. What have you done.”

On the bright side, this is also where Guo Changcheng accidentally shocks Zhao Yunlan with the Fear Stick, and Chu Shuzhi literally gives him a thumbs up. Those two are a duo for the ages. 

Youchu appear to fight our heroes, and after the first wave is eliminated, Zhao Yunlan decides to go inside, leaving the other two fend them off near the entrance. Considering that the beasts are all hiding inside the cave, rushing in without backup seems incredibly ill advised. Zhao Yunlan instructs Chu Shuzhi and Guo Changcheng to run away if the danger becomes too great. Which he must know surely that they would never do: his department does not leave people behind, and his subordinates will never abandon him. 

To no one’s surprise, the cave is crawling with Youchu. Zhao Yunlan goes on the offensive, kicking the feet out of the monster, but failing to incapacitate it. I am going to do my best to ignore how the scale of the beast fluctuates as it falls down, and focus on Bai Yu’s excellent reaction when his character realises that he is about to very much die.

Luckily for our protagonist, Hei Pao Shi sends a ward his way with a note, warning him of the danger ahead and ordering him to return. Zhao Yunlan makes no move to do as instructed and uses the upper hand he’s gained on the Youchu to get out his gun. Before he can fire however, he once more experiences the painful flashback of the devastation this gun carries, and freezes.

This is when Shen Wei shows up in person, jumping in front of the gun and gutting the beast.

The jumping in front of the gun part of the action is sweet, because it indicates, albeit indirectly, the absolute trust Shen Wei must have in Zhao Yunlan’s instincts, knowing that the man will not accidentally shoot him in the back. 

The gutting itself happens in reverse grip, with Shen Wei being easily within reach of the beast’s long stabby claws, and as such really questionable to me in terms of logic. I would have not minded it if he had been moving through the space in front of the beast, slicing it while passing through. That would be at least an indicator of both speed and dexterity enough to make me believe Shen Wei made a clever avoidance of the claws. But he doesn’t: he just materialises dead-on in front of the monster and the later just.. lets itself be killed. 

Let’s just say that maybe the beast is supposed to be deliberately slow here, and park the long essay in regards to the bladework until the next episode. 

“Chief Zhao, are you alright?”

Everything about Hei Pao Shi in this moment screams of Shen Wei-ness. Well, maybe not the sword. But the obvious concern, the tone of voice, the general air: it’s all Shen Wei. It’s remarkable that Zhao Yunlan does not see it. Or maybe, I suppose, he does, without even realising it. His cheeky grin suddenly appears; the corners of his eyes crinkle, as he goes into a very long-winded, almost flirtatious away about thanking Hei Pao Shi, teasing him for not always arriving on time. 

Unperturbed, Shen Wei chides Zhao Yunlan for not listening to his warning, and Zhao Yunlan defends himself in a very playful kind of manner, adding that he’s not leaving his people behind. To Shen Wei, this is to be expected, so instead of arguing he goes into a lot of detail on how the road ahead is dangerous, as if he is not really expecting Zhao Yunlan to accept help. 

He is wrong of course: proud though he may be, Chief Zhao knows when he is outgunned and outnumbered, and only grins, happy for the Envoy to join him on his mission. 

Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan exploring the cave is interspersed with pretty damn harrowing scenes of Zhu Jiu torturing Wang Zheng as her trapped lover screams for mercy. It’s a lot; in fact it’s so much even the cave ghosts attempt to intervene, because while they may be very much pro-murder, they are evidently anti-torture. 

As the two keep exploring, they bump into another three of the beasts, which Shen Wei slays in three slick moves. It’s actually pretty cool, despite slightly sketchy teleportation effects.

“Wow!”

(Apparently, this “wow” made Zhu Yilong corpse so much he nearly laughed his mask off. Which sounds adorable)

Shen Wei proceeds to inquire Zhao Yunlan about the gun, party to confirm that it is indeed the dark energy weapon he knows, and partly having noticed that the other man failed to fire it. I wonder how many times Zhao Yunlan froze in the past, considering how easily he once again slips into his mask of playful deflection, claiming that he never planned to fire the gun at all. It’s almost tragic how this person keeps feeling like he needs to prove his own capabilities over and over again. 

Interestingly enough, in this particular case Hei Pao Shi actually does own up to a weakness. It’s calculated: he knows this is something Zhao Yunlan must already be aware of, but still, “full disclosure” is not something Shen Wei usually does when it comes to his own capacities. 

What he admits to, on the other hand, does not seem very consistent with the rest of the show. He says that he can only use half of his power above ground, which - okay. But he also states that he can’t spend a lot of time here, and I am a little bit… confused? He lives above ground. He spends absolute majority of his time here. I really don’t want to think of this as a writing inconsistency, so please let me know what I have missed; I’ll appreciate it. 

Hearing the admission, Zhao Yunlan grows serious for once, asking which they they should be going next. Shen Wei barely smothers a smug smirk seconds before he scries the surroundings with unbelievable panache.

Show off

Unfortunately, his search does not yield any result, as whatever readings he is getting are muddled by the Hallow. Luckily for them, and to Shen Wei’s great dismay, Zhao Yunlan has the Dial on him which he is uses as a compass. 

Shen Wei’s wordless reaction conveys a million questions from “what the hell?” to “are you completely stupid?”

Instead of asking any of those things, he settles for a more neutral “I’ve told you not to use the Hallows.”

“You are very much like a friend of mine”, remarks Zhao Yunlan. 

Which is, incidentally, also the title of this episode. 

Even behind the mask it’s clear to see Shen Wei’s blind panic as he realises he may have just blown his cover sky high. Fortunately, Zhao Yunlan reads the reaction as bashfulness rather than existential despair, and laughs it off. 

Now that they know which way to go, they finally make it to the chamber which houses the pillar/totem, which now has Wang Zheng tied to it. 

This show sure does like tying their characters to totems containing souls of people significant to them, huh?

In all seriousness though, as parallels go, this one is… uh… unparalleled. 

(I am so very sorry.)

Zhao Yunlan makes a move towards his trapped subordinate, but Hei Pao Shi, again in a way which is extremely Shen Wei-like, grabs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

Zhao Yunlan obediently halts, and calls Zhu Jiu out, correctly guessing that the Undergrounder lured them here deliberately. Shen Wei, on the other hand, relays in a hushed tone information what he had observed so far: namely, that the Hallow stored here is the Dire Awl, and that something is incredibly fishy about Wang Zheng.

As he does so, he is staring at Zhao Yunlan’s lips. It is neither the time, nor the place, but hey, I’m not complaining.

They have a brief discussion about the next moves, in which Shen Wei just says he would like to try something, and Zhao Yunlan nods, letting him do it without asking for any details. 

Flashback 3: the Backstory. 

We hear the full tragic tale of Ge Lan and Sang Zan: how they met, representatives of the warring sides of the conflict, two people from two different worlds; how their love did not stop the awful bloodshed; how it could not be enough to overpower the politics; how it lead to Ge Lan’s death, and, finally, how Sang Zan could not bring her back to him. They hear how the man changed once he lost the only person he cared about. 

Zhao Yunlan is visibly moved by this story, recognising echoes of it in himself. 

“The most basic dignity of a man is to ensure that the person in his heart stays safe. If the person I love gets destroyed in my own hands ruined under the system I established myself, it’s very likely I’ll hate these people more than I hated the former tribe leader.”

How much did he harden after his mother was taken away from him? How much of his initial hatred of all those from the Underground stems from that day? And, of course, how much will it break him when he will not be gifted this dignity in his own future? 

Shen Wei is near vibrating with how much his very soul resonates with the tale he has just heard. He, who has met someone from the other world, who was lost that person, is visibly weighed down by his own memories.

“That’s right. Even if they’re cut into a myriad of pieces, the hatred would be hard to dissolve.”

Zhao Yunlan stares at the other man, astounded, wondering what hardships and losses the Envoy endured in his long and eventful life, as the episode draws to a close.

And I am left here trying to soothe my aching heart, bruised once more by this show’s relentless fatalism. 

Next up, episode 11: Oh Boy Do I Have Sword Opinions 

---

Notes. 

Look. It’s been a long week okay. Besides, I am basically marathoning my way through Zhu Yilong’s entire filmography. 

The normal service in terms of analysis will hopefully resume next week. 

[evandearest]

The Garden of Eden | Part III: Hidden Darkness

Pairing: James March x reader (you) | ~Part: (3/4)~

Summary (Part Three): Sometimes, even when things seem to be at their best, hidden truths can seep through the cracks. Sometimes, it can ruin relationships, but other times, it can make them. What will happen when you and James find that everything is not what it seems? They say opposites attract, but how far can that really go? The truth is a magnet, but the question still remains: will it bring you together, or force you apart?

Warnings (in this part): drunk person (briefly), anxiety, twisted morals / religion bending, murder / blood, lying, sexual scenes (no real smut)

Word Count: 4,723 (OMG lol)

Notes: Can we just pretend I didn’t mess up the location of the backstory? I just have no idea how to change it in the story now. I didn’t remember that James was from New York until just recently as I’ve been re-watching Hotel. Let’s just say that for the sake of this story, James moved from New York to L.A. at a much younger age for some reason lol. I’m so sorry for messing that up, it bothers me so much! Ugh. In this part, I decided to give a peek into James’ point of view a little bit. :) Also, the sections in italics are flashbacks if you are ever confused. This one gets pretty twisted as far as morals go. lol. Also, this is the longest part so far... and I’m impatient to get this posted because I’m so excited, so I apologize if there are any errors. Without further a-do... let the show begin. :) Enjoy!

(p.s. let me know if you ever have any questions/comments about the story, I love feedback!)

Tag List:  @etoile-writings @haileyybird @ietss​

Something had been going on with James. As much as it might not seem to some, you were smarter than you looked. You were attentive; you watched the people around you. You cared about those kinds of things. Some would call it trust issues, but you call it surviving. Through all you’d been through, being vigilant was the one thing that had seemed to keep you going.

It’d been the best month you’d ever had. Everything had seemed to fall into place; you and James’ relationship had been stronger than ever. Everyone had seemingly accepted it, too, which surprised you greatly. You had figured that many people would criticize you, but if there was one thing you had learned, it would be that people didn’t question James. You loved that. Not having to answer people’s critiques and being respected was a feeling you’d never known, and it was a feeling that you definitely got used to quickly. You didn’t even have to worry about people questioning you, because if they did, James was quick to take care of it. However, you had noticed an odd pattern: any person that said something rude to you seemed to vanish.

For example, today. You had been sitting at the bar, minding your own business while sipping a fruity cocktail, when a man with whiskey breath approached you. He was stumbling, slurring, spitting, and frankly you had quickly become uncomfortable. So you’d politely and discreetly moved seats in an attempt to get away from him, which ended up failing. Plan B had been to excuse yourself to the bathroom. When you returned merely five minutes later, the man had vanished. While it wasn’t strange for drunk men to wander off, it was strange for drunk men to get very far within a few minutes. You’d walked around the main hallways of the hotel in search for him, but he was nowhere to be found. And this hadn’t been the first time this had happened. You were beginning to get suspicious.

You wouldn’t have suspected him in the first place if it hadn’t been for the fact that you’d caught him in some peculiar situations.

It was late. The clock on the side table read 2:00 A.M. when you heard the door to the room open and close. Even in your sleepy haze, you’d managed to catch sight of a black figure. You’d slipped out of bed not soon after, your silk robe dragging on the floor behind you as you made your way out of your room. You gently closed the door behind you, quietly padding down the hall. As you rounded the corner, you caught sight of a familiar suit-clad back at the end of the hall. Just as you were about to call out, you heard a faint moaning in pain, silencing you. You swerved around, on a mission to hide your body behind the corner so as to just observe, when that familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N?”

You turned around slowly, smiling softly at James from across the hall. You yawned, furrowing your eyebrows together in confusion.

“James?” you asked, your voice cracking from having just woken up. He smiled, although you could read the nervousness all over him. What was he doing? He slowly crossed the hallway down to you, his hands reaching forward to grab both of yours.

“Why are you awake, darling? It’s nearing two,” he asked worriedly, reaching up to gently brush your cheek with his knuckles. You paused, staring at him in confusion.

“Just having some strange dreams,” you said, averting your eyes to look over his shoulder for a second. “Did you hear that noise?”

“W-what noise, dear?” he tried to recover from his stutter quickly, but you didn’t fail to notice it. You paused once again, studying his handsome features. He wasn’t lying to you, was he?

“Nothing...” you trailed off, lost in thought, before letting out a breathy laugh. “I must just be tired, darling. Are you alright?” James shoulders dropped visibly, a toothy grin forming on his face.

“Of course,” he said, before placing a kiss onto your forehead. “You need rest up, dear. We wouldn’t want anything happening to your pretty little head.” You genuinely smiled at that. He was very sweet; although you did have a strange feeling about his behavior. You couldn’t describe it, it was more intuitive than certain, but you just couldn’t deny or brush it off.

“What about you?” you asked him, reaching over to squeeze his hand in a loving manner. “Aren't you coming to bed?” James raised his eyebrows, quickly shaking his head.

“No, no, dear, I’m afraid not,” he sighed, smiling at you sadly. “I have quite a lot of paperwork to catch up on, and I’m afraid I won’t rest until it’s done.”

“Okay, just don’t overwork yourself darling,” you said and sighed while looking at him pointedly. You then leaned up to place a chaste kiss against his lips.  “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight dearest,” he whispered, and you turned and made your way to your room. You opened the door and stepped inside, turning to place your ear against the door for a moment. You swore that you could hear a faint groaning again. You shook your head at yourself, telling yourself it was all in your mind before settling back into bed.

Ever since that night, a week ago, you’d been suspicious. You just had an innate feeling that you certainly were not just hearing things that night. And based on the way James was acting, he knew you weren’t either. He’d been distant, staying up late every single night. He’d go to bed with you at first, only to get up and leave in the middle of the night at such unearthly hours you could hardly believe the clock. You tried to dismiss it the best you could, but it was getting harder to ignore.

So as soon as you had woken up today, you decided to talk with him about it. You’d thought a lot about just asking him, spouse to spouse. It was James, after all. You knew he wouldn’t get mad at you, by all means, but you just felt like he didn’t want to tell you for whatever reason. It was driving you mad.

-🤍-

“James?” your soft voice called out, startling James from his paperwork. He glanced up, his eyes landing on your frame as you stood in the doorway of his office. You were clad only in your silky robe and slippers, your hair still slightly disheveled from having just gotten out of bed. He was surprised, for it wasn’t often that he would see you in such a state. You would normally make yourself up before coming to see him in the mornings, as he generally got up earlier than you. It wasn’t a problem to him, though. In fact, he would never admit it, but he secretly adored you like this. You looked even more vulnerably pure than normal. That’s what James admired about you the most: your ability to remain such a source of light and hope; your maintaining of innocence when surrounded by darkness. No matter what you went through, you always seemed to find a way to come out shining. His beacon of hope.

He stared at your figure, taking a mental picture to forever remember this moment. He never wanted this to end. Even the thought that he was the only one that would ever get to see you in such a state excited him. Just the sight of you lit up his entire being in a way he didn’t even know was possible until he met you. He couldn’t help but think back to the time when he first realized how much you had impacted his life; how you’d made him fall apart in the best way imaginable. A particular day flooded his thoughts.

You stared at him with your doe eyes as he looked away from you. Even from his peripheral vision, he felt it. Just the thought of you sent a jolt to his heart. When he’d seen his father above you, he’d felt a rage so accumulative it felt as if he might implode on himself. But then all you’d asked him was a simple question, and yet he had no idea how to respond. How was he supposed to tell you that he thought his own abusive father was right? He couldn’t even swallow the fact that he agreed with his father, let alone tell you, the one who always managed to keep him from succumbing to the darkness. If it weren’t for you, he didn’t think he would have a real purpose to strive for.

He simply couldn’t tell you that everyone with whom you’d ever spoken to was probably using you for something other than a nice conversation. He’d met your family; and although they seemed picture-perfect, he knew their true intentions behind closed doors. He’d met the people of Los Angeles; he knew how they worked. It was all money and entitlement. They had planned to ship you off to a rich husband since you had been born.

He wanted to tear them apart. He wanted to do unspeakable things for the simple pleasure and satisfaction he’d get from it. You were the one who separated him from this unspeakably dark craving for blood that he felt. He’d known it even then; if you had somehow gotten taken from him, he wouldn’t stop himself any longer. He’d be lost in his darkness forever, and he would never find the light again.

“James?” you spoke again, and James snapped back to reality at the sound of your voice. He smiled at you, setting his pen down to give you his full attention.

“My my,” he said cheekily, “to what do I owe the pleasure?” You stood in your tracks for a moment, a slight pink coloring your cheeks as you pulled your robe tighter around you.

“I’ve come to ask you a question,” you said, deciding to just put it out there. James smile fell from his face at your serious demeanor, concerned curiosity clouding his features.

“Yes?” he asked, his accent drawing out the word in a way that sent shivers down your spine. You sighed, gathering your thoughts for a moment.

“Well, I’ve just been wondering recently,” you said, slowly making your way over to sit in the chair in front of his desk. “It’s not an extremely important thing, I just...” You trailed off, your words getting caught in your throat, lost in translation from your head as you stared at James.

“Darling, you can tell me anything,” James reassured, resting his hands together on the desk in front of him as he leaned forward slightly. You sighed once more, averting your eyes from his. You took a deep breath before continuing.

“I’d like to know where you’ve been going these last few nights, James,” you said, your voice filled with unintentional shakiness. You didn’t mean for all of your emotions to come out that way.

James faltered, the small smile on his face wiped away at your question. He didn’t know how to respond at first, his mind going through all of the possible excuses he could make. There was no way that he could ever tell you what he was actually doing. He feared your reaction too much.

“Darling,” James said, putting as much charm in his tone as he could. “I’ve already told you how behind I’ve been on paperwork.” You met his eyes once more, disbelief clear in your orbs. His own eyes widened slightly at your clear observance of his dishonesties. He didn’t anticipate that you wouldn’t believe him. Perhaps he’d underestimated your perceptive ability to catch liars.

He knew then that he’d have to tread carefully from here; he’d have to weigh his options. He couldn’t tell you the truth--for he feared the result. But genuinely lying to you? He knew, then, that that would only push you away. Lies were like bricks; they built and built and built until eventually a wedge formed. He didn’t want a wall with you. He didn’t want to ruin the only true connection he’d ever had.

It was ironic, how just moments before you’d asked, he’d been consumed with memories of the one other instance in which you forced him to answer to something he couldn’t. He never expected he’d be in this situation again. Yet here you were, once again, presenting to him a question in which he could not answer truthfully.

He didn’t want to take that look in your eyes away. He couldn’t. He couldn’t imagine what would happen to those eyes. Those eyes that had been his source of comfort for so long. He’d seen your shock when he killed your husband, but he’d gotten lucky. That was someone who had directly affected you; the man who had ruined your life. You had already wanted him gone. He didn’t want to imagine what you would think about him participating in a hobby in which taking life was the sport. He didn’t want to steal your light away by consuming you in his darkness. He feared the imbalance would destroy the life you’d just rebuilt together. What if he was too different now? What if his embrace of darkness repelled your light away?

“James,” you said softly, suddenly much closer to him. Your hands gently cupped his jaw as you stood directly in front of him. He blinked in confusion at his failure to notice your movement from one side of the desk to the other. He looked up at you questioningly.

James had been so lost in thought that it had frightened you slightly. You couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked. You shamed yourself for not thinking that he could just be stressed. James had a very hard job; he managed a new Los Angeles hotel that was constantly bustling with people of all kinds. You were obviously reading too much into it, and you realized that now. Sometimes you just couldn’t stop your anxieties caused by your last marriage, as much as you tried to. You cursed yourself for not thinking of him in all of this. You quickly enveloped the man into your arms, holding him in a comforting embrace.

“I understand,” you whispered softly. “I get that work can be overwhelming. I just wish you’d let me help rather than overworking yourself.” James sighed, his shoulders relaxing instantly. You smiled; your comfort was working.

“You are completely correct as always, darling,” James replied, pulling you to sit in his lap comfortably. “And I am terribly sorry for not spending the nights with you. My wish is not to make you feel lonely.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You laid your head on his shoulder, cuddling into him.

“It’s okay, James,” you said sweetly. “I know how hard you work. It’s one of the things I love most about you.” James gently brushed your hair away from your face.

“You truly are the most accommodating, dear,” James said lovingly. “What would I do without you?” Your grin felt splitting. Talking to James was the best decision you’d ever made.

You spent a few minutes just sitting there cuddled into James as he continued his work, basking in the warmth and love you felt from him. Your moment was interrupted when the door to his office opened abruptly.

“Mr. March,” a voice called, in which you recognized as Miss Evers. “Sorry to interrupt-” She paused when her eyes landed on you and James, her expression falling slightly. “I’m sorry, are you busy?” She asked, her eyes seeming to burn holes through you. You tightened your grip around James’ neck slightly. You didn’t like the way that she was looking at you.

“What does it look like?” James barked in response, visibly annoyed. Your eyes widened at his harsh tone as his hand gripped your waist tighter. Miss Evers grimaced.

“Well, you see,” she started hesitantly, “you have a delivery for floor seven.” James’ grip loosened at her words, his expression changing to one of understanding. You sat up, pulling away from James slightly.

“I see,” he said to her before looking to you. “Darling, I’m afraid that I have some business to attend to.” You nodded and stood from his lap, walking with him as you both made your way out of the room and to the elevator.

“Well, I am going to get freshened up,” you smiled at James, planting a kiss on his cheek before you got off onto your floor. He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it in return, smiling at you charmingly. You briefly glanced at Miss Evers again, your mood faltering once again at her steely glare. You didn’t understand why she was glaring at you, but it was beginning to worry you. You looked back at James, catching one last glance at his charming grin before the elevator doors closed.

-🤍-

Many hours had passed and you hadn’t seen James since the morning. It was half past five o’clock when you began to worry about his absence. You’d expected him to be kept busy with his work for most of the day, but it was unusual to have not heard from him by five P.M. It’s not that you were always worried about him, it’s just that you knew him. He was very adamant about your nightly dinners at six.

Usually he always sent Miss Evers to remind you around five, but you hadn’t heard a peep the entire day, aside from the morning. You had a sneaking suspicion that the woman held some type of grudge against you. She always spoke to you in curt language, and occasionally she’d give rudely blunt comments, but it was only when you were one on one. You had noticed how her behavior changed around James. It was like she was constantly trying to impress the man. It made sense, as he was her boss, but sometimes it really got under your skin in a way you didn’t like. You didn’t want to hold a grudge against the woman; truly, she seemed quite lovely. You just didn’t understand what she held against you to treat you in such a way.

So, needless to say, despite not hearing from the maid, you’d prepared yourself like normal anyway. You knew James wouldn’t forget dinner, it just wasn’t like him. After you made yourself up, you headed out to your normal dining room to meet James. You were surprised to arrive to an empty table, however. You had been wrong. James did forget. You were genuinely surprised. You stood in your tracks, wracking your brain to figure out where he may be. You decided the best place to start would probably be the most obvious place, his office.

Upon arriving at the floor, you immediately felt that something was off. The entire floor seemed vacant. You walked timidly down the dark hallway, your eyes scanning around you warily. It had seemed like a maze of dark passages, leading on and on in silence, until finally you heard a semblance of life. It sounded like a shuffling at first, until you were close enough to the door of his office that you could hear a noise that almost sounded like sawing. Your curiosity spiraled, and ultimately, it won over the wariness you felt.

When the door opened wide enough for you to see, your eyes first landed on James’ back, taking in his rapid movement. His arm pumped backward and forward, his body driving the force to drive a saw through bone. Dark red coated his shirt, as well as the floor and area surrounding, and at first glance you could’ve sworn that the carpet was just regularly that color. You only briefly got to watch his movement, because it was as if he sensed your presence unconsciously, even as quiet as you had been. James eyes met yours, and he seemed to have frozen in space and time. He simply stared for a few seconds, before he dropped the saw and faced you.

“Darling, I--,” he started, choking over his words in shock. Your eyes took in the scene once more, the bloody corpse hard to ignore. A few moments of silence passed between you.

“James,” you said breathily. Your feet shuffled forward until you were standing only a few feet in front of him. Your smaller hand grabbed his larger one, feeling his rough callouses against your soft palm. “Is this what you’ve been keeping from me?” His eyes met yours and you saw the answer in them. You were right.

It all made sense to you now. All that time he’d been gone, he’d been here. It was obvious to you now why he didn’t want to tell you what he had been doing.

“You’re not...” he trailed off for a moment, his eyebrows raised uncertainly. “Afraid of me?” he finished. Your mouth opened in shock at the fact that you hadn’t realized what he had presumed your reaction to this would be. He thought this would scare you off.  He thought that you would see this as a negative thing. He thought you’d think he was a crazy murderer just like all other common people would.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

You stared at him in disbelief. He expected you to fear him, to run away from the violence simply for it being violence; to hide from real reason. Did he not think that you would see the truth behind this? The truth being that he’d built an empire from the ground off of ash and dust. He’d climbed up the chain of players until he was at the very top, crowned king. Not to mention that all while doing so, he’d profited majorly, but not only that... he’d became a true god.

You understood now. Being a god wasn’t about riches or the simple power of being respected... it was a service. A service of repenting sin in the truest way possible: punishment. James had been chosen; picked out from the crowd for his vision of truth, for his undying ability to see men for what they were: sinners. Men were first placed on Earth just for the simplest sin of knowledge--and any act after knowledge might as well be considered evil. From then the men of the world raised generation after generation of sinners: users, abusers, liars. You and James had been included in that crowd. You’d both been raised to sin, but you knew now that you were special, for you had been enlightened. You were not ignorant like the most. You saw the true darkness in the world, and understood that it needed to be handled. You were chosen.

You stared at James, a newfound admiration for him arising. He really was special, and yet he couldn’t even completely see it. You didn’t understand how anyone could be so blind so as to not see the utter power he withheld in the palm of his hands. His hands, in which were the epitome of jurisdiction. They were judge, jury, and executioner, and every life they took served a god’s purpose. They offered utter release of darkness for all those chosen by him, freeing them from their evil natures. Other people might see danger in James, but all you saw was glory. That, you thought, was the misconception of death. Many viewed it as a robbery, but it wasn’t that. It was a true freedom, a release of all sins, and those who did not see that were clouded by their selfish desires and greediness. It was an act of nature. An act of God.

You smiled at James, squeezing his hand, before leaning forward to place your forehead against his.

“No,” you whispered, your breath hot against his lips. “No, I’m not afraid. There’s nothing to fear... murder isn’t always evil like most think, especially if it’s a service. James, you aren’t a sinner for releasing others from their sins... James, you are a god...”

James froze in his place, a shiver running up his spine. Usually, he resented religion. But the way you had explained it sparked something entirely different within him. He felt an electricity run through his entire body, igniting his veins in a way no drug ever could. His arms wrapped around you, quickly pulling you flush against him.

No one had ever said something so logical to him. He’d run into many people who preached religion and he despised every one of them. His thoughts were like yours: they were all sinners anyway, so how could they support a holy God? It was hypocritic, and James hated every one of them for it. It was the entire reason that he’d started his new project to mimic on the Bible’s Ten Commandments. However he’d never talked to you about religion, for he knew you’d grown up in a church and generally avoided the enraging subject. But you’d given him a new perspective with your words. He was a god. He held all the power that men reserved just for their one and only God in his hands. He could take any life if he wanted to, with nothing stopping him. He’d realized his power before, but he’d never thought of himself in that way. All those men praying to their god while at his knees might as well be praying to him. When he took a life, he released that person from evil. He held the true power.

He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He and you had always seemed like polar opposites. That’s part of what he thought was so attractive about you. But it was much more than that. Of course it was. He and you were more similar than he’d ever thought. You completed his image, and he expanded off of yours. Your perspective put a whole new sense to the world that he’d never known. You were light, and he was dark, but together... you were something entirely different. He’d thought that he had had everything figured out perfectly, but oh how wrong he had been. You explained it in a way that he never could have thought of himself. His Y/N...  you were so much more than he had ever really known. That mystery excited him undeniably.

His hands gripped your waist tightly as his lips crashed into yours. You gasped into the kiss, for you’d never, in all your time together, received such passion from James. He kissed you almost bruisingly, pouring every ounce of his being into it. His arms left your sides and before you knew it, he was hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist. You clung to him tightly, kissing back just as fiercely as you felt the tension between the two of you build. Your cheeks were flushed from the heat as he carried you across the room, too caught up in him to see where you were going.

He set you down and pinned you against the wall, rattling the table next to you. His arms were like a cage around you. A loud shattering was the only thing to interrupt you, breaking your kiss as you both turned to see the vase that was on the table now on the floor. The glass was scattered everywhere, the white roses it withheld strewn out across the floor as the water spread. You both stood staring at the vase for a few moments before you wrapped your arms around James’ neck again.

“Leave it,” you whispered, pressing your fingers into his back as you tugged him close once more. Your lips met again, just as intense as before, before he began his journey to kissing your neck. You panted, a sheen of sweat already glistening on your skin and he’d barely done anything. “James,” you pleaded, “I need you.”

James pulled away smirking, his hands traveling down your sides slowly.

“Oh darling, you have a long night ahead of you.”

A long night it was indeed, eventually moved from that spot and into the bedroom, the vase and roses left broken but undisturbed.

---

Series Masterlist: The Garden of Eden Series

Main Masterlist

[tanakavox]

Christmas hunt part 3

Junior found himself pacing back and forth in his office like a caged animal. Something big was coming his way, he just knew it! The only time he felt this way was whenever… “SHE,” came around, and that was always followed by complete and utter hell afterwards. Junior had to force himself to stop pacing around and found himself pouring him a glass of something stiff before hurriedly knocking it back.

“Alright, you need to calm down Hei,” he spoke aloud, a hard edge to his tone as he knocked back another glass, “freaking out isn’t going to solve anything, so just. Calm. Down.”

Unfortunately just as Junior had managed to get his nerve under control, it instantly spiked back up when one of his flunkies came running into his office looking like he’d seen a ghost.

"Boss," He cried out, "There’s this Faunus kid that came running into the club! AND HE CLAIMS TO KNOW YANG XIAO LONG!”

The silence was deafening as his flunkie made the announcement, only to be broken by the sound of shattered glass as Junior let the empty glass in his hand slip out of his grasp. His face paled and his blood ran cold, flashbacks of his bar being destroyed several times over playing through his head like watching old film footage.

"No… it can’t be…”

-Main Lobby-

Zwei was sitting in a booth, currently demolishing a plate of wings and pounding back a shot of warm sake. He had arrived at the club roughly ten minutes ago, only to be greeted with open hostility from the bouncer.

“This ain’t a place for kids,” he stated in a condescending manner, “Why don’t you run along and go sing some christmas carols with the other little boys and girls your age?”

Zwei merely gave him an unimpressed look, not even bothering to rise to the obvious bait before simply flaring a little aura out. The bouncer tenses upon realize the “kid,” was a huntsmen, and his face lost all color when Zwei said:

“That anyway to talk to the brother of Yang Xiao Long?”

Which was how he found himself quickly escorted into an MVP booth and given access to, “The Good Shit.” The men escorting him told him that the Boss would be down shortly, and so Zwei found himself simply killing the time by eating his food and warming himself up with some sake. 

Shortly after finishing his wings, he was joined by a very large and very nervous looking man who sat across from him. Zwei cooly looked the man over before knocking back another shot of sake, letting out a content sigh before he addressed the broker.

“Junior, I presume?”

The aforementioned Junior visibly flinched as if he was physically struck, before his face settled into a hard look as if he was getting down to the business.

"That’s me, and I'm just going to cut to the chase kid: who the hell are you and what’s your connection with that blond hellion?”

Zwei couldn’t stop the smirk forming on his face at the apt description of his sister. Looks like his sister's reputation was still well known at The Club.

“I’m her younger brother.”

Zwei’s smirk morphed into a full blown shit eating grin at Juniors reaction to his reveal of being Yang’s brother. His eyes had nearly bulged out of his head in shock, and the man looked like he was about to have a heart attack at any moment.

“Her younger brother,” he cried out in a panic.

“Yeah, younger brother. You deaf or something, or just particularly slow?”

Junior squeezed his eyes shut and let out a miserable groan as he found his hands automatically coming to meet his already aching head. Blondie was bad enough whenever she came around, and Romans red pain in the ass was just as bad(if not worse) whenever she stopped by, but there was another one of these little shits?! 

‘Brothers above, what did I ever do to deserve this,’ Junior internally cried to himself, before he opened his eyes to address the amused Zwei in front of him, who was now gingerly sipping on his sake instead of pounding it back.

“Look, just,” Junior started in a tired tone, “tell me what you want so I can get you the hell out of my club.”

Zwei rolled his eyes at the melodramatic man in front of him, before he got a serious look on his face and decided to cut straight to business.

“I’m gonna keep this short and to the point: I need to know where I can get a Playstation Five.”

“...What.”

“Brothers, I’m starting to think you’re honestly slow! I said, I need to know where I can get a Playstation Five! Try and keep up Junior, geez.”

“...You didn’t order one ahead of-”

“No, I did not order one ahead of time,” Zwei angrily growed out, “otherwise, you think I’d be coming to you asking?”

Junior quickly held up his hands in a placating manner, desperately trying his best to not anger the young huntsmen in front of him lest he end up with his establishment destroyed again.

‘Of all times I need Miltia and Melanie the most, and of course they’re on holiday leave!’

“And before you ask why I’m going out of my way for this, it’s because I’m trying to get one of these stupid consoles for my newphew for Christmas.”

If Junior wasn’t about to have a heart attack before, then he certainly felt like he was about to now. 

“Di-did you say, nephew,” he managed to stutter out.

“Yes Junior. Nephew. As in, the son of my older sister. You know, I was just giving you shit about being slow before, but now I’m truly wondering if you have some kind of learning disability.”

But Junior ignored Zwei’s insult as he was too busy internally swearing upon every single deity known to man, women, and Faunus alike. First, he learns that there’s a third little demon child to complete a twisted trio, but now they’re breeding?!

“Gods above, what poor bastard did she have to coerce spawning a brat with her,” he all but spat out, “can’t imagine how much of a little shit that hellspawn is to deal with!”

In a span of seconds Hei “Junior” Xiong realized that he had made two monumental mistakes. The first mistake was saying what he just said aloud instead of in his head like he had intended to. The second mistake?

“...What did you just say about my nephew?”

Was that he said what he said aloud in front of the last person he should have ever said that in front of. The temperature of the bar dropped to match the near frozen weather outside, as Zwei leveled a cold glare that sent chills down Juniors spine. Zwei calmly finished drinking his Sake, keeping eye contact with the now terrified Junior before gently placing his glass down…

THUMP

...Before slamming his hand down hard against the shared table between them. The force from the impact vibrated the whole club, while the table made a loud cracking noise as if it were being broken, though it had appeared to remain perfectly intact. Zwei slowly rose from his seat, face carefully blank as he continued to stare down the cowardly information broker in front of him.

“I asked you a question Junior,” Zwei ground out in a dangerous tone, “I said: What. Did. You. Say. About. My. NEPHEW?”

Junior broke out in a cold sweat as he began trying to stutter out an apology. No longer was he praying that his precious club would survive the night, he was now praying that HE would survive within the next five minutes.

“I-I DIDN’T MEAN IT ALRIGHT,” he cried out fearfully, trying to back away only to find that he merely backed himself further into his booth. “LOOK, I KNOW WHERE YOU CAN POSSIBLY GET ONE OF THOSE STUPID CONSOLES ALRIGHT?!

“...I’m listening.”

“There’s a raffle being held at the Franklin Mall tomorrow afternoon around two! They have three consoles available to win and if you’re lucky you might be able to get your hands on one as well!”

“...That’s all you know?”

“That’s all I know, I swear!”

Zwei continued to stare down Junior for several more seconds, before letting out an annoyed sigh.

“A raffel? really,” he muttered to himself, “of course, why not? Typical Rose luck I supposed, but I guess it’s my only option left.”

Zwei let out another sigh, before pulling out some bills and throwing them on the table. 

“Lien for my food and the table, should cover most of the costs… I think.”

Junior didn’t even attempt to reach for the bills, still stricken with fear of the Gods put into him by the younger huntsman in front of him. Zwei rolled his eyes at the cowardly man in front of him, before he started walking away.”

“Thanks for the info Junior,” he called out over his shoulder, “Might come pay you another visit sometime. Until then, Merry Christmas.”

Junior finally allowed himself to slump in his seat, his heart was pounding so fast that he thought it was going to leap out of his chest and his clothing was drenched in sweat. It was at that moment the table that Zwei had slammed his palm into let out an ominous groan, before it split perfectly in half: one half landing on the now empty seat where Zwei was seated and the other on top of Junior.

The table landed on Juniors stomach, knocking all the air out of him and causing him to cough and wheeze for several minutes. Junior let out a pathetic whimper at everything that had happened to him in the past half an hour and once again wondered which of one of the brothers he must have pissed off in another life to deserve this treatment.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas…”

@thatorigamiguy did the edits. Thanks bro.

[marvel-ousnesss]

The pirate and the witch (part four)

Pairing: Harry Hook x daughter of narissa!reader

Summary: Y/N, an orphan vk who was taken to auradon at a young age, returns to her old home by request of the crown prince. However, things tend to go south at the Isle of the Lost.

Warning: Mild cursing, use of alcohol, sword fighting (no super detailed descriptions)

Word count: 4460(ish)

A:/N: happy Christmas Eve eve!!!  Finally done with part four and turns out I ended up writing a plot that flows slower than intended (oops). I’m sorry for the wait but I’ve been sort of busy with holiday-related procrastination. Also…. I’m working on a request and a Bucky royal au which I’ll be posting soon. As always, lots and lots of love and thanks for reading ❤️ Pls tell me what you think.

(BTW… there’s a flashback at the end, it’s in italics.)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE DISNEY DESCENDANTS CHARACTERS, THE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN CHARACTERS NOR THE SANDERSON SISTERS. All credit goes to the creators, writers, and producers. Same with the HP charms, credit goes to J.K Rowling (for now, just present in the first parts).

part one        part two      part three      mobile masterlist

— Oi, lass, lass,— a familiar intone is heard when I open the window.

To my surprise, I spot Harry behind a trash container, with my cloak resting on his right shoulder.

When he sees my head peeking out of the second floor window, he pipes, — if you wanted to see me again, you should’ve just asked.

— Who says I wanted to see you, that was a hint for Gil to find.

He snickers at my words,— ya gaunnie come get yer manky cloak, or do I have to go up there?

—Shit, — I breathe — Just a second!

I close the window and look at Jay, who quirks a brow but doesn’t move from his spot on my desk. He began to explore my sketchbook app a few minutes ago, and seems to be completely immersed in it. Nevertheless, he puts the device down and chuckles, — This is you’re place, you know. Say the word and I’ll be out.

His words take me by surprise. Even if he’s been here for a few hours, I still can’t get completely used to the idea of such dangerous people, who are feared to death back home, being as decent and friendly as they have been during my stay here.

So, after a brief goodbye, he leaves and, after all of my Auradon-related stuff, I open the window once again.

— You already came all the way here, what’s a few steps up.

He’s about to make his way up the fire escape but, after a few steps toward it, he crosses his arms and says, — Yer right, I came to yer place, don’t I deserve a prize?

He’s such a flirt. After debating it with myself for a second, I make up my mind.

— Come here and get it, — I wink.

Without a second thought, he runs up the stairs outside the building and reaches my window in no time. What I’m I doing? No one was supposed to find out about this place, yet I’ve brought two vks here in just a day. I try to keep my cool as the pirate walks toward me, stopping about a foot away.

He smirks, —So, doll, ‘bout me prize.

I feel the heat in my cheeks when he takes a small step closer, placing a hand on the side of my waist.

—oh, right… that,——

Think fast, think fast….

I smile at him sweetly and kiss his right cheek, retrieving my cloak from his shoulder. — your welcome, — I smirk.

He laughs at my antics, — yer kidding? Don’t ya say that’s it! Glaickit of ya to think I’ll leave with just that.

—Who says you have to leave?— I utter the words while stepping back in order to sit on my bed.

His brows jump up and his ocean blue eyes shine with mischief and surprise. — What’d you suggest, doll.

— Staying here for a while but, now that I think of it, wouldn’t it be more fun to go out? The docks, maybe?

— Nah, depends on what you want to do. — his words keep coming out laced with an air of innuendo.

Not wanting to give up yet, I decide to play coy. — You know, the usual; take a walk, grab a bite, ‘keep the heid’, don’t you have to do rounds?

This time, it is a mix of mischief and excitement that floods him. — Yer right, can’t wait to see the faces of those wingnut vampires when ya scare the shit outta them!

— yeah… I’m thrilled.

Why did I suggest this, of all possible things to do? The question seems to be trapped in my mind. Ever since we left the apartment, Harry began to show a new side of himself, one that I had only seen in the papers I read beforehand.

He invited me to do his rounds with him, on the way to the docks and, needless to say, my magic resulted completely useless when it came to achieving the level of fear that Harry had in mind.

— Not so badass now? bastard, — he hisses, with a smirk on his face as his hook grabs some guy by the jacket. — whatcha gonna do?

The guy limits himself to whimper and let out some sort of cry. Given that the pirate has already grabbed everything that caught his eye, together with the designated amount of golden coins, the business there is dimmed as finished and we finally  begin walking to Ursula’s.

—So what ya think, see yourself doing this with me and the crew?— he asks.

—Not really, not one for all of the intimidating.

— Ain’t so sure ‘bout that, lassie. You’ve done pretty well for what I’ve seen. — it is kind of weird to hear such words coming from him; even more so when sincerity is all across his handsome features.

I snicker, — yeah, right; I can’t even get a fly to run away.

His chin lifts up and his chest comes forward subtly, — I’d help you with that, if you decided to join us. In fact, — he wiggles his brows with a smirk, — I’d train you.

— As tempting as that sounds, I’ll have to decline, Hook. Got better things to do:

I shouldn’t even think twice about declining but something about exploring my vk side a bit further than I’ve been able to doesn’t sound completely crazy. Maybe is the way he looks at me, or should I say through me, with his ocean eyes; or the way in which those same eyes shine when he’s about to wreak havoc? Don’t really know, and not sure if I really want to.

Guess I’ll just have to solve this problem in the way I do it best, ignoring my questions until they go away.

I begin to run and chant, — Race you to the docks!

….

Panting, I stop in front of Ursula’s and get inside. The place is packed with members of Uma’s crew, some of which seem to recognize me. They acknowledge me without hostility, still thankful for what I did for them the night of the party.

—Look, Uma, Y/N’s here! Bet she’s looking for Harry, — Beams Gil, the blond and tall guy who first broke the ice with me the night I met the crew.

Uma smirks and approaches me, — Look, witchy, not sure if you got the memo but one night stands are supposed to be just that, and last one night, nothing more.

— Thanks for the heads up, cap, but I’m actually here to grab a pint. — I sit down on a barstool.

— in that case, — she turns away, visibly relaxing, — Bonnie! A beer for bibbity bobbity bullshit over here!

When Uma is behind the bar again, Harry, who had been inside and contemplating the scene, approaches me.

— Sorry ‘bout that, Uma just knows me too well,— he ventures. — Ain’t good for the business to have every lady in the isle claiming to see me, now is it?

His cockiness is amusing as it is annoying. — Oh, of course — I ponder.— that would be completely tragic.

He chuckles at me and steals a sip from my still full beer. Honestly, I don’t even like beer that much; just ordered it to play the part. Go

— Yer different, though, — he claims, but I don’t believe a word.

— Do tell, why is that?

— You’re not as annoying. Actually, I kinda like having you ‘round, — he flirts.

— So you, Mr. use-‘em-‘n-dump-‘em, are claiming I’m special? — I gasp mockingly, — what an honor.

We both laugh a bit, share another sip of beer, and he continues.

He shrugs, — Yer also fast. Not enough, but fast; even if you were playing dirty.

—Oh, gods, aren’t you one to talk about that! — I accuse,— and, given the case that I did play dirty, how did I do it?

— Lookie here — he gesticulates, motioning himself. — Racing a hungover pirate ain’t fair, besides, I had too much clothes on.

I chuckle, part of me wishing I could wipe that smirk off his face. — You’re just a bad loser, I’m pretty sure you’re always hungover; and, as for your clothes, not sure how that’s related to me kicking your ass.

— How low do ya think of me, doll, ya think I’m a bad loser? — he fakes a gasp. — and, as for my clothes, —his tone is mocking, — can’t you just enjoy me charm and help me solve the problem? But, in case you wanted a serious answer for your question, nakedness makes me more aerodynamic.

— wouldn’t you like that, Captain cockiness.— my brow quirks up. — And seriously, aerodynamic? Yeah, right.

— Not as much as ya would, my little witch.

I scoff as my eyes drift over to the window. The day is warm despite the lack of sun, so I suggest, — I think I’m gonna go for a walk. Come with me?

…….

The sound of the waves crashing against the docks is one that I’ve loved my whole life, back home, my dad and I go for boat rides often. However, here there’s a bunch of noise that accompanies the punches of water against wood and stones. The market is busy as we walk, but most of the catches turn out to be dead fish and trash that arrives from Auradon.

— I still don’t believe you, you know? It’s impossible for you to fit the grip of your hook inside your mouth; besides, how can I believe you if your too chickened up to prove it,— my arms cross expectantly.

Since we got out of Ursula’s, Harry’s been telling me a bunch of stories of his and Gil’s drunken deeds, and I may have also revealed a few of mine and Chad’s own disventures. For the last five minutes, he’s been trying to convince me that he’s capable of putting the whole base of his hook inside his mouth, but refuses to show me.

— Lass, ya’ll have to take me word for it. I’m still a few bottles of scotch away from doing that again.

—pff,— I playfully shove him sideways. — Yeah, right.

He places the tip of his hook on his chin, pretending to think, — you know, shouldn’t have spilled so much, now ya have lots of dirt on me.

—What am i gonna use it for? You know what, never mind. — I proclaim, — You, Harry James Hook, just made the worst mistake of your life. Now I’ll overthrow you and Uma, and take over the lost revenge. Buahahaha!

He laughs at me and counters, — seriously lass, some of these things, I’ve never told anyone before.

—relax Hook, you can trust me, — I smile, with the sincerity I can muster.

— Oh, okay then.

After the short moment of vulnerability, we fall into a void of uncomfortable silence. We continue to walk along the brick street next to the sea, and my hands seem to find a permanent place inside the pockets of my jacket. Harry softly whistles a melody with his eyes locked down, but looks up and smiles as we reach a familiar ship.

His frame stiffs for a moment as he inquires — You sure I can trust ya?

I hesitate, — Yes, of course.

— Then come on, you’re meeting someone. — he grins.

The ship seems to be isolated from the rest, yet it is full of crew members that work and bounce from one side of the deck to the other.

When we enter their sight, they stop to stare at us and pull out their swords.

One of them speaks with a threatening and raspy voice, — Not outsiders in the Black Pearl, Hook.  

— Relax, Y/N ain’t gonna start beef, Barbossa. — Harry assures, — where’s Jack at?

— Sure hope she does cause some trouble, we could always use some tasty ladies here in this humble ship. — the malice in his expression makes me shiver, not to mention the wicked grin coming from the monkey on his shoulder, so I move slightly behind Harry.

At this point, it’s evident that the younger pirate’s patience is becoming thinner. — She’s not here for that, now where’s Jack?

Barbossa’s pounding laugh comes laced with his response, — His chambers, drinking. Good luck getting him outta there.

So, shielding me from the Wolfish looks sent by some crew members, Harry drags me to what I assume is the entrance of the captain’s quarters.

He knocks three times and a groan is heard on the other side, right before the breaking of a bottle and an incoherent train of curse words.

The door opens to reveal a tanned middle aged man sporting wild dreadlocks and a bored expression. However, his facade changes as soon as he registers that Harry was the one who dared interrupt him.

—Powder Monkey! What brings you to this old man’s ship?— his arm flies over Harry’s shoulder and he drags him inside.

I follow closely behind. My eyes scan the wooden floor and walls, the scattered pieces of green glass that I’m sure recently fell down, and a table full of unopened bottles, surrounded by five stools.

— Just thought I’d come ‘n greet, so you pack of salty dogs wouldn’t forget ‘bout me.

— Nah, wouldn’t forget ‘bout my favorite boot cleaner, — he smiles, showcasing a few golden teeth, — now would I?  

Harry’s only response is to laugh as he opens a bottle of rum, — Also, wanted you to meet a, uhh, an acquaintance. Jack, Y/N; Y/N, this is Jack.

Acquaintance, seriously?

He turns my way, smirking and stretching out a dusty hand, — Well, let me say, m’lady, any friend of Jimbo here is a friend of mine. —After we shake hands, he sits down on the table, grabbing yet one more bottle, — Now tell me, what stupidity have you done to cross ways with this wonky piece of sea garbage?

I’m about to start, but Harry interjects, — She can’t tell you nothing without a dram.

— Only got rum, Hookey, who do ya think yer talking to, Turner?— he scoffs.

— Rum it is, then.

Awkwardly, I state, — Actually, I’m good as it is, gentlemen.

— You don’t drink? — This time, Sparrow breaks into laughter,— got a princess in your hands, Harry. But m’lady, — he turns toward me,— we all drink here, ‘s the code.

I chuckle, — Fine, but just a few drinks.

…

Thank god I have my boots on, I think to myself as I look at the floor. A fit of giggles scale my lips, followed by an almost unperceivable hiccup. It’s been a few hours since we arrived at the Pearl, and we’ve been drinking nonstop. At the beginning, it was only Jack and the two of us, but then Gil ended up here, together with maestre Gibbs.

I told them how I met Harry, but that’s the only truth that I’ve spilled. After all, knowing where I’m from would be enough motivation for these men to make me walk the plank and straight into the kraken’s nest. From then on, I’ve been mostly listening.

— So, then I was like ‘proceed,’ but they noticed I wasn’t white so the one with the fancy wig went all ‘it’s Jack Sparrow, it’s Jack sparrow!’ and I was like ‘nub-uh, I’m justice Smith.’ — Jack speaks  between laughs, with exaggerated esticulations, as he takes another sip of some cheap wine; the rum ran out like an hour ago.

— You saved my ass that day, Jack, I remember it like it happened this very morning, — Gibbs patted his friend’s shoulder.

Gil chimes in, — like that time you saved us from the Huns, we wouldn’t have lasted two seconds without you and Anamaria.

— I haven’t heard that one yet, — I voice, utterly curious.

— Well, — Jack announces, then yawns. — you’ll have to hear it another time, Y/N/N. I've got some business, you know? Gotta sleep for a few years now.

Being the ship’s captain, and the two young pirates’ mentor, no one’s hesitant to comply. We get up and say goodbye, then make our way outside.

All three of us are still fairly drunk, so I decide to take this chance to see if I can get them to open up.

— I still haven’t heard the story of you guys and the Huns.

— ‘S a long one, lass. — states Harry, placing an arm around my shoulder, to which I respond by loosely grabbing his wrist with my right hand, as to keep his arms from moving.

— Well, we’ve got time! — I yowel.

— You’re gonna love it, Y/N. — As we walk, Gil begins to explain, taking a sip of the bottle we grabbed from the Pearl.— We were like seven when that happened?

----

Harry and Gil walked silently, as they kept an eye on Shan Yu’s men. It was Harry’s first official mission as part of his father’s crew, or it was gonna be, and he had called Gil and Uma for help and support. Sadly, the young sea witch had been grounded that very morning, so she couldn’t be there with the two boys. To say that they had absolutely no idea what they were doing was a complete understatement. They were clueless.

So, they did what seemed rational at the moment: follow the enemies and wait for the perfect moment to attack. Or… at least that’s what Gil had heard his father say when he talked about hunting.

—Shh!! — scolded Harry, — you’re gonna make them see us, Gil!

The blond boy muttered a quick ‘sorry,’ and continued walking, this time avoiding collisions.

— Harry, they’re getting into a warehouse, we should wait out here. — Gil intoned, chocolate eyes shining with fear.

Harry immediately countered and, on the contrary to his friend’s, his blue orbs were  flooded with pride and determination. —No, this is my chance to prove father that I can be a real pirate. If we make it, he will train me.

----

We continue walking through the very same road that we took earlier today (yesterday, as midnight passed a few hours ago). Harry’s arm remains placed around me and mine has now found its way around his middle.

As he speaks, I feel the soft vibrations of Harry’s voice and the alcohol that pleasantly poisoned his breath; — so, we decided to ambush the Huns right there.

— We decided? You manipulated me into going, — Gil points out, giggling.

Harry sighs and grumbles, — Anyway, the point is we went inside and here we are; so, continue talking Gil. Before sunrise, if you can.

----

The two boys literally crossed a door that had no way back. They hid behind a few boxes of what they supposed were ingredients for Dim Sum, and carefully watched as the Hun soldiers opened a chest full of gold that they had stolen from the Jolly Roger.

— There it is, — Harry whispered in awe.

— It’s a lot of gold, — Gil quavered.

Back then, they were convinced that no one was aware of their presence, but a certain pirate lord who had his eyes on the very same prize had seen them from the start.

— Isn’t that Hook’s boy? — asked Anamaria.

—Yup.

She continued to press on the topic, — shouldn’t we take him? He’d be useful against his father; we could get some money out of him.

—Nope.

— And why the hell not, Jack?

The captain sighed, as he adjusted his position on the ceiling bar, — Jim doesn’t pose a threat at the moment and nothing he has seems to be worth it these days, the boy’s useless.

The Huns continued to speak in hushed tones, reason why none of the intruding parties were able to register what was happening.

The kids didn’t even have time to move when they felt the cold metal of swords against the back of their necks. With their hands raised in defeat, they stood up and faced Shan Yu’s soldiers.

—Your father didn’t even have the balls to come here himself?

— Maybe we could send him your fingers? Or maybe even your left hand? That way you’d get matching hooks.

The grown men spoke as they advanced on the two boys, making them head toward the wall of the building. When they had them cornered, both Huns raised their swords and both boys shielded their heads with their arms; but no harm came their way.

Instead, they saw the Huns fighting two other people, whom Harry recognized as members of the enemy pirate crew, the tripulation of the Black Pearl.

— So that’s why you went after the kids —chortled the man. — Your technique is worse than your fashion sense, and that’s saying something.

Both boys giggled at his words.

The man’s combat was sparkled with humor and witty comments, while the woman fought silently and with a stern expression, only groaning every few hits. Both of them had impeccable technique, and they seemed to be dancing in perfect coordination.

After what had seemed to be hours, the Huns ended up dead.

— I can’t believe I agreed to come with you in the first place, — hissed the woman, cleaning her left boot with the end of her puffy white sleeve.

— Come one, don’t tell me it wasn’t fun!

She ignored her companion and approached the boys, who had been contemplating their interaction.

— Hey, — she smiled, — I’m Ana, and that idiot over there is captain Jack Sparrow.

Harry stepped forward, — I’m quartermaster Harry Hook, and this is my friend Gil.

—Quartermaster? Harry, your father doesn’t even let you near the crew.

Harry glared at his friend and decided to explain to the two strangers, — well, I’m not exactly a quartermaster… yet! — he assured. — but I’m gonna be one, when my dad decides to train me.

It was the man’s turn to speak, and his voice came tinted with venom. — You mean Jim sent you here without training? Not even I would do that.

— My dad doesn’t think I have what it takes to be a pirate. I was gonna bring him his treasure back and show him I do have it, but I guess you’re gonna take it, right?

‘Not the puppy eyes, not those; anything but the puppy eyes!’ Jack pleaded to himself, but he ended up looking at the boy and giving in.

He groaned, and then spoke up. — We’ll all go back to the Pearl. There, well split the gold and maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.

— Uma’s gonna love this, — grinned the boys in unison.

----

We arrived at the end of the road, so the three of us sat on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the water.

— So, that’s basically it. — concludes Gil. — Jack taught us everything we know about being pirates. Then, he helped us get the Lost Revenge.

I take a drink, — And, you’re all still pretty close to him. That’s really cool.

Harry chuckles, — well, we kind of owe him everything we are.

I lift my head, which was resting on his shoulder, and glance at him. — That’s not true; he may have trained you, but I’m sure you all have become your own selves.

— Don’ be stupid, lass, he did it because it meant a future a alliance and an advantage, not because he has a teaching vocation.

I sigh, looking for adequate words to phrase what I want to say, — Then you guys owe him what you know about piracy, nothing more.

None of the two pirates said anything.

You know, — Gil sighed, — he’s been there for us more than our own parents. He even saved us from Hook’s crew once, when we were thirteen.

—Still, he did it because we’d signify power for him and not because he cared about us. — Harry takes a long swing of liquor.

I sigh, — Still, I think that, even if he didn’t care at the beginning, he’s fond of you guys now.

Harry’s about to object, but he thinks for a moment and mumbles, — he’s been around for quite a while, even for me sisters.

—I’m just pretty glad that we found him, — Gil hummed, — since I began training with him, my father has been going on about how proud he is that I’m big and strong, and how he hopes that I’ll get myself a nice lady.

— Funny, — Harry says with a tint of grief, — my dad stopped talking to me when the moment I stepped on the Pearl.

Once again, we fall into silence. I fall backwards and look at the cloudy sky, Gil and Harry soon follow and, once again, I find a spot right under the first mate’s arm.

— I’m kind of sleepy, guys.— Gil voices my thoughts, we should head back to the Revenge.

Without complaining, the three of us stand up and walk back to the ship. Instead of heading to their quarters, Harry and Gil lead me to a few hammocks that are placed on deck for those on night guard.

Harry takes off his boots and coat, sitting on one, —‘m sure Uma won’t mind if we use these for tonight.

—Yeah, no big deal, — Yawns Gil.

— Kay.

I’m already beginning to sober up, so sleep is beginning to hit me. Without a second thought, I lay down and wrap myself in my cloak. I drift off to sleep, and my head clears.

It only lasts a few hours, though. I wake up with nausea and my head pounding. Sitting up, decision which immediately regret, I look around for Harry and Gil but turns out I’m alone. I get up and rub my eyes, walking towards Frollo’s creperie, which is a few blocks away from Ursula’s.

I arrive and bark my order, like I’ve seen people do it around here. Then, with a huff, I sit down and quickly glance at my watch.

9:30 am… shit!

Tags: @criticizing-blogger​  @aspitefullittlebeing​  @treestarrrrrrrr​

[scripttorture]

Do you have any ideas for showing some of my trauma survivor characters working on improving their memory? Not about details surrounding the trauma, but everyday things, like car keys. It occurred to me I know about treatment or ways to live with all the symptoms I picked but memory problems caused by trauma.

I don’t actually know if there are proper treatments being trialled for trauma survivors. Anecdotally no one I know who sought treatment for long term trauma symptoms (around half a dozen people) was offered anything for their memory specifically.

 My impression is that while there are strategies that are useful the effect trauma has on memory is often, not ignored exactly but overlooked. It seems like care providers look at the more dramatic symptoms and focus primarily on those, not realising the huge and detrimental effects memory problems have on every day life.

 What I’m going to describe here are things I picked up in the time I spent with dementia patients.

 The school I first went to in England had links to the local Alzheimers charity and we held yearly/twice yearly social events for sufferers. Because music takes one look at me and curls up to die, I was one of the people who basically went round chatting to everyone. Years later my English grandfather was diagnosed with a form of dementia (likely brought on by smoking). He ended up in a specialist home with quite a few residents. So I have spent quite a while around people with moderate to severe memory problems over the years.

 The first helpful thing is routine.

 Having a predictable, repeating pattern to the day really really helps.

 Of course the flip side of that is it means disruption to that routine can be really stressful and difficult for the character to deal with. It can also be very hard to establish a routine.

 Routine is going to be more important for dementia sufferers then most trauma survivors. Because memory loss in dementia is generally more severe and declines with time. This means that torture survivors have more flexibility when it comes to disruptions to routine. They’ve got enough working memory and context for what’s happening to them to adapt.

 But having a predictable pattern to stick to is still helpful and takes away some of the stress of trying to work out what to do everyday. A set sleep schedule (or at least a ‘trying to sleep’ schedule), regular meal times and regular times for activities such as work and spending time with loved ones reduces the amount of things to forget.

 Calendars are also very helpful.

 Large hanging calendars on walls, with plans for the day clearly written on them. Depending on how severe the character’s memory problems are (or how worried the character is about them) you could just have one calendar in a clearly visible place such as the kitchen or the back of the front door. You could also have several calendars around the house, but the more calendars there are the higher the risk of forgetting to fill one out properly.

 This doesn’t help dementia sufferers now much but younger people who are comfortable with technology can use phone alerts and digital calendars to remind them of activities and where they’re supposed to be. Which is helpful for character who wants to be discrete about their memory loss.

 I’ve also seen post it notes all over walls and fridges like some kind of thick yellow fur.

 In terms of finding things- actually a lot of the type of advice Marie Kondo uses can be helpful.

 Reducing clutter and getting rid of things that don’t serve a purpose (making the character happy is a purpose too) makes it easier to see where things are.

 Having a designated space for everything also helps. Dementia charities tend to recommend having a big, obvious bowl to hold things that are needed every day such as keys, wallets etc. Good lighting and contrasting colours (of the bowl vs the surroundings in this case) make it easier to remember and identify the right place for the keys.

 There’s also some higher-tech things that can help now. Like small tags that can be attached to keys or other smaller objects and beep or light up when signalled. These don’t tend to be used with dementia sufferers but would be helpful to characters more comfortable with tech.

 Emergency numbers kept as a list by a landline phone, or as an obvious saved group in a mobile phone is helpful.

 If the character takes medication then a pill box organiser is incredibly useful. Because even without memory problems it’s difficult to remember if you took the right amount of pills some days.

 Digital clocks and calendars with large automatically updating displays help people keep track of the day and month. Having a lot of them around the living areas can be helpful especially when combined with calendar alerts.

 Dementia charities also tend to recommend making decoration changes in a home. Some of those are more to do with age then memory problems. But the general instruction to make living spaces lighter, use contrasting colours and keep things neat is helpful to anyone who regularly has trouble finding things.

 I’ve heard of a lot of people writing notes on the backs of their hands or arms. This can be useful in the very short term but notes tend to wash or rub off quickly so it’s often not helpful for anything further away then a couple of hours.

 It is a stop-gap solution that a lot of people hit on very quickly though. I think it would be normal for a character to do something like this first before moving on to more effective methods like a calendar system.

 Similarly writing paper lists comes up a lot as a solution people trial early. It’s less useful then clear calendars and phone alerts because paper lists tend to get lost or muddled up easily.

 Having other people the character trusts around to help can also be important.

 Some people find it helpful to have reminders from their friends or family. Or to have help clearing and organising living space from them. This can help when everything is clearly communicated.

 The flip side of it is that ‘organising’ someone’s living space without clear communication will obviously make things worse. Using someone else a kind of digital calendar also puts a lot of pressure on that person to get everything right. It can strain relationships even when the character wants to help.

 Essentially when it comes to memory problems having other characters help out needs to be balanced carefully. It can be a big help but if there’s poor communication it can also create more problems.

 That’s everything I can think of for general forgetfulness.

 There are memory exercises and activities that seem to help improve memory in some dementia patients. But so far as I know there haven’t been similar studies on trauma survivors.

 The mechanisms of memory loss and difficulties forming new memories aren’t the same in these cases. That difference might mean that treatments (chemical or otherwise) which help dementia patients don’t help trauma survivors and vice versa. At the moment, I honestly don’t know.

 There have been some studies in trauma survivors that show improvements with intrusive memories. Most of the studies on memory problems in survivors focus on intrusive memories and flashbacks that come with PTSD.

 In terms of writing I’d suggest sticking to the organisational and life style changes that are recommended for early-stage dementia patients. They might not all fit for your character but adapting some of them should give a realistic framework to show them improving.

 I hope that helps. :)

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[theperidotshade]

Part Four of Regis Has Been Saved and There Are EMOTIONS (I still need a title, damn it)

Warning, this chapter contains some pretty heavy emotional stuff and a dissociative flashback viewed from the outside.  Please take care, and enjoy Cid’s unique perspective on life!

A hand shook Regis awake, paired with an amused voice.

"Do bestir yourself, Your Majesty.  We're nearly to Hammerhead, and if I guess correctly, you will be needed for the explanations."

Regis' bleary, sleep-addled mind questioned why the Chancellor of Niflheim was waking him—oh.  Right.  That—that actually happened.  No, don't think about that yet, there was still much to be done before he had the luxury of breaking down.

The king raised his head, opening his eyes.  Ardyn's car, the roof up, was pulled over to the side of the road about a mile out from the lights of Hammerhead clearly visible in the distance.  It was very dark, probably well after midnight, and there were sounds far off that could only be made by daemons.  None were close enough to be a threat, however.

Regis looked at the Accursed.  He was as carefree-seeming as ever, if perhaps a little more tired than he was a few hours before, but something was…off, in the set of his shoulders.  A tension of sorts, that had only grown worse over the course of the day.

Well, Regis thought, the whole ordeal had not been easy for either of them.  As long as they got through the conversation with Cid without any incidents, Ardyn could crash all he wanted to afterwards.

Cid.  Oh, that was going to be a conversation for the ages.

Regis turned his gaze back towards Hammerhead, realizing Ardyn was waiting for his response.

"I suppose we'd better be on our way, then," he said.

Ardyn hummed his agreement, pulling out onto the road once more.

Regis stared straight ahead, trying desperately not to think about how Cid would react to his driving up in the company of the Chancellor of Niflheim.

They pulled up to Cid's shop and station a few minutes later, and Regis was almost buzzing out of his skin in anticipation.  The pavement was packed with cars in various states of disrepair, parked in every configuration imaginable.  

Good, Cid was as proactive as ever when people were in need.

Regis stared at the door to the garage, not sure if he dreaded or prayed for the moment it opened.

He slipped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and leaning on it with a wince.  His knee had apparently decided it'd had enough for the day.

A young female voice called out inside the garage.  "Paw paw, it sounds like we've got another group comin' in from Insomnia."

A very familiar voice answered, muffled.  "I've got it, Cindy, you just keep on lookin' for blankets for the young'uns."

Footsteps echoed slightly inside the building, growing louder as they drew near.

The door opened, and Cid's head, much grayer than Regis remembered, poked out.

"Y'all need any—Reggie?!?!?"  Cid's voice broke on Regis' nickname.

"Hello, Cid," Regis replied.

The door slammed into the wall as Cid threw it open, all but running in Regis' direction.

Regis was drawn into a firm hug in seconds.  He relaxed into the hold, tears starting to well up in his eyes.

"Ya reckless idjit," Cid breathed, "I'd hoped you'd made it out when folks comin' through started talkin' about warp-strikes takin' down the dropships, but it's been twelve hours.  I thought you'd gotten yourself killed!"

"I nearly did," Regis admitted, "But I had a bit of help."

Cid looked over Regis' shoulder.  The king could tell the moment Cid recognized his unusual rescuer, as the arms around his shoulders tightened almost painfully.

Cid's voice was wary.  "Now what is the Imperial Chancellor doin' savin' the life o' the King o' Lucis?"

Ardyn's reply was as dry as the desert surrounding them.  "Defecting."

Surprisingly enough, Cid seemed to take that at face value, stepping back from Regis.  "Well, s'long as ya don't cause any trouble, you're welcome here.  Folks these parts might have a few strong words 'bout your allegiances, but we're no cityfolk to turn away a man wi' nowhere t'go.  Mind your manners, and we'll leave ya be."

"Certainly," came the reply.

"C'mon in," Cid said, "Sounds like y'all've got a heck of a story t'tell."

Regis found himself surrounded by Insomnians the moment he stepped into Cid's establishment.  Dozens of refugees were huddled together in the shelter of the garage, draped in blankets and nursing steaming mugs of coffee or soup.  From the looks of the sensible backpacks each group guarded, they'd be moving on in the morning to safer locales.

A few looked up as the door opened, their widening eyes clearly visible even in the dim light.

"The King, it's the King," was murmured, quickly passing from mouth to mouth.

"Six bless you, Your Majesty, you saved us," a woman said as Regis passed.  He rested his hand on her shoulder briefly before moving on, following Cid into the living quarters attached to the garage.

Ardyn, Regis saw from the corner of his eye, pulled the broad brim of his hat down lower—unnecessarily, it seemed, as none of the Insomnians showed any sign of recognizing him in their focus on Regis.

Cid led them into a rough approximation of a studio apartment—kitchen, dining room, and living area all rolled into one.  A door led into a small bathroom, and two curtained-off areas presumably housed beds.

Cid bustled over to the coffee pot, gesturing vaguely behind him.  "Y'all make yourselves at home and I'll get a fresh pot goin'.  We're just 'bout out o' grounds, so don't expect much.  I'll get Cindy t'make a run in the mornin'."

Regis sank gratefully into the nearest armchair, ignoring the ominous creaking of the springs.  He was too tired to worry about a little thing like an old chair.

Ardyn removed his hat, turning the brim between his hands as he settled stiffly on the faded floral loveseat.  He hadn't said a word since his brief answers to Cid, and Regis was growing concerned about his uncharacteristic silence.

The beep of the coffee maker cut through Regis' thoughts.  He accepted the mug Cid brought to him with a quiet thanks, hearing Ardyn's mirror of it a moment later.

Cid sat in the second armchair with a sigh.  "Now, Reggie, what in the name of gigglin' gaggles of geese happened in that city o' yours?  All anybody comin' through these parts knew was that the Wall fell, then was up again, then gone completely, and suddenly MTs and daemons were everywhere."

Regis took a careful sip of coffee.  It scalded his tongue, but the warmth was welcome, if the flavor left much to be desired.

"Well, I'm sure you've guessed by now that the treaty was a trap.  There was an explosion outside, then all the Niflheimr in the room turned on us.  They got to the Crystal somehow, because within seconds I felt the Wall come down."

"Ah, I may be able to elaborate," Ardyn broke in.

"Go ahead," Regis said, "I still do not know how you got back to the city, in any case."

"Oh, I have my ways," Ardyn said, the barest suggestion of a smile on his face.  "Many things are possible when you have a certain skill with illusion.  But that is not why I interjected.  The traitors among your 'Glaive were responsible for distracting the guards.  The apparatus channeling the power of the Crystal was destroyed by MTs, and the Crystal itself was transported out of the city by them."

"That explains a little," Regis said, "But I do not understand how why you intervened when you did."

"And I will explain," Ardyn replied, "But we are getting ahead of ourselves.  I can guess at what happened next, but I was not there, and neither was Mister Sophiar."

Regis blinked.  He'd…honestly forgotten how the conversation had started for a moment there.  Oh, that was not promising.

He turned his attention back to Cid.  "Iedolas left, but before Clarus and I could make our own way out, Glauca arrived.  We…we fought.  Clarus didn't make it, and I, well, see for yourself."  He held out his hand, displaying the missing fingers and the makeshift bandages wrapped around them.

Cid, who'd definitely started tearing up, swore.  "Reggie, ya gods-damned idjit of a feather-brained royal, why didn't ya tell me you'd been hurt?  I'm getting the first aid kit and ya will put up with the curatives, so help me…"  His words trailed off into indistinct angry mumbling as he got up and rooted around in a storage bin stacked against the wall.  Both of the other occupants of the room pretended not to notice he was crying into the open container.

It wasn't particularly hard, in Regis' case—he was drifting in and out of reality between moments, finding it difficult to do more than star straight ahead.

Regis nearly face-palmed.  Of course he was having trouble focusing, shock had probably been all that was sustaining him through the day, between the pain, the bloodless, and the emotional devastation of seeing his city and people in such dire straits.  Not to mention the draw on his lifeforce that he'd been using to power the temporary Wall…

Cid came back, peeling back the bandages gently to pour a potion over his hand.  It'd been too long to fully restore his hand, but the wounds closed and the pain eased.  His remaining fingers regained function, Regis determined as he flexed them carefully.

As Cid cleared away the bloodied bandages and the supplies, he tossed a question over his shoulder.  "Now, I could be misrememberin', but isn't that the hand ya wore the Ring on?"

"Yes," Regis replied.

"So how'd ya get the Wall back up?"

Regis winced internally.  Oh, he was going to be in for it.  "Well, I managed to regain it momentarily when Ravus Nox Fleuret attempted to wear it, and I knew I couldn't let Glauca get his hands on it.  Lunafreya and a Glaive, Nyx Ulric, were with me, so I sent the Ring with them…after I used it to erect a temporary Wall drawing directly on my magic."

Cid turned slowly to look at him.  "Ya. did. what now?"

Regis grimaced.  "You heard what I said."

"Reggie, are ya a fuckin' maniac?  A moon-addled fool?  A Six-forsaken shit-for-brains disaster?" Cid was on a roll.  "Tyin' the Wall to your own magic, what were ya thinkin'?  Are ya suicidal, 'cause I swear by Bahamut's scaly balls, your decision-makin' has gone to the daemon-fuckin' dogs!  First the godsdamned isolationism, then not tellin' your boy about that cactuar-crap mess o' a prophecy, now this?  Shiva wept, Reggie, has the Ring melted your brain?"

Regis covered his eyes, mortified, and desperately tried to block out the slightly-hysterical giggles coming from Ardyn's direction.

"I was thinking," he said, "That if I was going to die anyway, I was going to save as many people as I could in the process."

The giggles stopped instantly, and a long minute of silence passed before Cid sighed.

"Alrigh', I guess ya knew what ya were doin'.  But what made ya so sure ya were gonna die?"

"Two things," Regis said, lifting his head from his hands to stare at the wall.  "One, the prophecy is very specific about Noctis being the Chosen King.  And two…well, Glauca followed us.  I stayed to hold him off, and he got the upper hand."

Cid's intake of breath was sharply audible in the heavy silence.

"Reggie," he asked, tremulously, "How close didja come to dyin'?"

Regis swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't answer, no sound escaping his lips.

Ardyn answered for him.  "Very.  If I had not arrived when I did, he would certainly be dead.  Glauca was attempting to stab him."

Regis felt absurdly relieved when that statement drew Cid's attention to the ex-Chancellor.

"An' what," Cid asked, "Is your role in all o' this?  Weren't ya just in Galdin meetin' the boys not more'n a day or two ago?  That description they gave sure sounded like ya."

Ardyn actually looked embarrassed for once in all this mess.  "Ah, well, it's rather a long tale, and I do not know how much you know about the prophecy—"

Cid snorted.  "Oh, please.  Anyone wi' eyes can see that you're the spittin' image o' the religious art Reggie's ancestors are so fond of.  I wanna know what th'Accursed is doin' runnin' 'round savin' his mortal foes."

Ardyn threw back his head and laughed.  "Oh, finally someone catches on.  I've been all but prancing into temples naked with 'Immortal Accursed' written in marker over every available inch of skin for the last two millennia, and still you're the first to know who I am without prompting."

Cid let out an amused huff.  "Well, ya must have spent too long 'round cityfolk.  But ya haven't answered my question yet."

Ardyn sobered.  "In brief, today—or yesterday, by now—is an anniversary of some significance to me, and though the world has forgotten the symbolism of Insomnia's fall occurring on such a day, the Astrals have not.  I hadn't quite put all the pieces together myself, until I woke yesterday and realized what day it was.  It was…a reminder of just who my real enemies are.  So I decided I'd do something they wouldn't expect, something that would undermine their schemes just enough to be troublesome."  He shrugged.  "They've been interfering in my life for a very long time.  I thought to return the favor."

Cid eyed him for a long moment.  "Alrigh', I suppose I can believe that, though that's clearly not the full reason.  Spite, I'm sure was part o' it, but ya don't overturn plans as complex as the ones I'm bettin' ya have in motion on just a petty whim.  When ya feel like sharin' the real reason, I'll be waitin'."  With that, Cid stood.  "C'mon, Reggie, let's fix ya up a place to rest."

Regis shot a glance at Ardyn, noting the shaking hands and forcedly-slow breathing.  He followed Cid out the backdoor and into the lot out back for caravans.  There were a few parked there—as Regis looked around, he could see that the occupants were all elderly, parents with small children, and the sick or wounded.

Cid drew him to the side, lowering his voice.  "How much has he let on 'bout his motives?"

Regis thought over the events of the last twenty-four hours, remembering the tension, the rage at the Astrals, the pain and grief shining through at Ardyn's most unguarded.

"More than he's intended to, I think," Regis murmured, "He's not what we thought.  And, well, it's not my story to tell, but that anniversary he referred to—it's nothing pleasant."

"How so?" Cid asked.

"It was the start of a lifetime of being manipulated and betrayed by gods and man alike."  Regis looked back at Cid's home.  "I'm almost certain that if we walk back in there right now, he'll be having some sort of panic attack or flashback."

Cid's eyes widened.  "Then we better do that," he said, alarmed, "The man's got a hundred lifetimes o' memories in his head—I dunno what that migh' do to a body, but I'm guessin' it's nothin' good."

They rushed back into the building.

It turned out to be a very wise decision.

Ardyn was staring straight ahead, chest heaving in short, uneven bursts of breath.  His hands were clenched around his hat, digging deep into the fabric.  He didn't respond at all when they burst into the room, and his magic…

His magic was shimmering over him in waves, a shield trying to form over him but buckling under pressure that wasn't there.

Cid shot a shocked glance at Regis, which Regis ignored in favor of reaching out carefully with a shield over his own hand.

His hand passed right through, settling on Ardyn's shoulder.

Ardyn flinched with his whole body, recoiling.  His eyes turned toward Regis.

A furrow formed between his brows.  His golden eyes struggled to focus on the king, and Regis noted that he didn't seem aware of his surroundings.

Ardyn spoke, an unfamiliar language falling from his lips.  His accent had thickened, and Regis realized that this was its origin, this language of millennia past.

When Regis didn't respond, Ardyn seemed frustrated, switching to a different language.  It took Regis a moment to recognize it, but when he did…

Gods, was that what Old Lucian was intended to sound like?

"You're safe," Regis attempted to say in his scholar-taught Old Lucian, only to receive a blank stare.

Regis tried again, in modern Lucian.  "Ardyn, you're safe, you're in Hammerhead, it's the 17th of May, M.E. 756.  Your brother isn't here."

It took several repetitions, but little by little, Ardyn's breathing began to calm and awareness returned to his eyes.  The half-formed shield dropped.

Ardyn closed his eyes, shuddering.

"My thanks," he said, sounding winded and distant, "I apologize for the inconvenience."

Regis stared incredulously for a moment, realizing three things in that instant: one, this man's air of condescension masked some very deep wounds; two, it had most likely been a long, long time since Ardyn had had anyone care about his wellbeing; and three, it was going to be a battle and a half to get him to accept any sort of assistance.

Well, fuck.

Regis sighed.  "It was no inconvenience.  Perhaps we should get you somewhere more comfortable.  Some rest might do you good."

Cid came forward, and between them they managed to get Ardyn standing and through the door.

Once Ardyn was settled in the caravan under the care of a particularly concerned grandmother, Cid took Regis aside.

"Look," Cid said, "I get not wantin' t'share a confidence, but Reggie—is the godsdamned Accursed a member of the royal family?"

Regis let out a hysterical sound like a cross between a laugh and a sob he couldn't quite repress.  "Cid, in the last twenty-four hours, I have been betrayed by multiple people, attacked, seen my home in ruins, and learned that everything I thought I knew about history and religion, and even my family's right to rule, is based on a lie deliberately covered up by one of my ancestors.  I'm about ninety percent certain that not only is the Accursed a Lucis Caelum, he's an actual King of Lucis."

Cid visibly softened, holding out his arms.

Regis fell into them gratefully, burying his face in his old friend's shoulder and finally letting out all the grief and pain and rage and shame that had built up over the course of the longest day of his life.

"Gods, Cid," he choked out between the heaving sobs wracking through him, "I want to tear the Empire apart for what they've done, but I can't put my people in danger, not again.  How can I trust my judgment after this?  How can I trust myself after this?  What am I supposed to do?!?!?"

Cid didn't answer, just holding him until he'd cried himself out.

Regis pulled back reluctantly, wiping his eyes.

Cid kept a hand on his shoulder.  "Here's what we're gonna do.  You're gonna get some sleep while I get ahold o' Cor an' see 'bout gettin' these folks to safety.  When he gets here, then we'll worry 'bout what comes next, alrigh'?"

Regis nodded.  He knew he should be doing that himself, but after the day he'd had, it just felt good to let someone else take charge for a while.

Cid shook his shoulder gently.  "Good.  Now, I'm not likely t'be gettin' any sleep tonight, so you just mosey on into my house an' take my bed—it's the one on the right, wi' the striped coverlet.  Get some sleep, Reggie, I mean it."

Regis smiled, and did as he was told.