#would inevitably lead to her feeling like she had to fulfill those expectations and setting high goals for herself

[torchickentacos]

ok i've been feeling under the weather (chronic, not covid) and i've been binge watching warrior cats infodumps/video essays and.... hhhhhh do I REALLY want to reread half the series to make a post about my leopardstar apologism?? becuse girlie deserved better and if she was written better she'd be everyone's favorite literal wet cat pathetic girlfail girlboss tragic character but nope. got vriska'd but like in a 'shallow without redeeming qualities' kinda way

[manifesting-author98]

Catra’s Redemption Arc Goes Hard

Say what you will about Catra’s redemption arc, but I actually think it's beautifully developed. I know it may seem like it comes out of nowhere in that final season, but I think that they did a great job setting it up. 

Sure, Catra is still her destructive self just episodes before she turns, but at this point in her arc, this is also the most emotionally vulnerable she’s ever been. And all of this stems from two main things:

First, Catra is permanently changed after the incident with the portal (even getting an interesting outfit change too).

Because of it, she starts to feel actual guilt because she’s confronted with the consequences of her actions- Glimmer’s mother is dead and any sympathy Adora ever had for Catra is gone. But at that point, Catra is still okay because at least she still has Scorpia and Double Trouble- along with some power and influence as well. Through all of these avenues, she can still escape the pain of emotionally losing her connection to Adora. 

But then (and this is the second important point in Catra’s arc set up), just before her path to redemption begins, Catra loses Scorpia and Double Trouble too, along with what’s remaining of her power when Horde Prime arrives.

And only after all of that does the path to redemption even begin for Catra, which is why it is so impactful:

Catra has to lose everything before she can change. 

And honestly, it goes a bit further than that. When each of her relationships end and she loses everything, Catra is also forced to confront the fact that she’s at fault. People don’t leave her because they’re wrong, or because they want to abandon her- it’s because she’s problematic and drives them away. 

In fact, several of the people that leave her make this exceedingly clear. 

Scorpia: “You’re a bad friend.”

That whole scene where Double Trouble basically spells it out for Catra, showing her that the person that she needs to blame is herself. 

So all of this leads Catra to the lowest low she’s been at yet.

Of course, she still tries to preserve herself (aligning with Horde Prime) because that’s what she does- she survives. Only this time, her heart truly isn’t in it. 

And truthfully, it never really has been either (not even with the Horde on Etheria).

Again, Double Trouble is the person who points this out to Catra.

Catra has never really wanted what she appeared to want: The Horde’s success. In reality, all Catra wanted was to stop hurting. She thought she could accomplish that through power. If she moved up enough or defeated Adora and the revolution, she’d never have to think about the abandonment and pain again. 

Catra even says this herself within the first couple episodes too. She wants Adora to come back to the Horde after she leaves because, even though the Horde may not be morally right, if Catra and Adora get enough power, they can be free from all the pain they’ve already endured. They would be able to make their own way. But Adora knows that power and conquest won’t give them what Catra thinks it will.

But unfortunately, Catra doesn’t see that. It never really occurs to her that this path to power (that she’s been on since the beginning) is ultimately a lonely one. She doesn’t see that this is the inevitable conclusion, especially considering the way she behaves, so having it all play out, having all of the people who love her leave, that’s the only way to really force her to understand that power was never the right answer at all. 

And this lesson carries over to her relationship to Horde Prime. She never really aligns with him. Instead, she’s mostly just trying to survive as she deals with new feelings of guilt and loneliness.

On Horde Prime’s ship, away from Etheria, having lost everything she cares about, Catra finally has time to think about the negative impact she’s made, especially when she talks to Glimmer. This is because Glimmer is going through something similar- she’s also feeling guilty and isolated- and all she wants is to apologize to her friends and make things right.

But even though it’s Glimmer (in that one particular scene) who verbalizes all of those feelings, the camera eventually focuses in on Catra. 

Because Catra wants this too.

Now that she’s at rock bottom with nothing (and no one) left to loose, she’s able to see clearly. She finally understands and accepts that Adora never really wanted to leave her or give up on her (as conveyed by the flashbacks in Corridors). Again, it was Catra’s own fault that their relationship was destroyed. 

So she decides that she should finally help Adora, even though their relationship is gone. It’s what Adora would have done for her. It only took being completely isolated and guilt-ridden for Catra to see that. 

So then comes the big moment.

Catra sacrifices herself and apologizes to Adora for the first time.

And although this is just one moment, which may seem small in the grand scheme of all that Catra has done, it’s implications are huge because of all that it actually means.

This move is the first truly selfless thing that Catra does.

Catra believes that Adora will never care about her again. And Catra doesn’t want her to- because all Catra does is hurt people. So she uses this (self-defeating as it may be) to the revolution’s advantage. If Adora doesn’t care about Catra, she won’t come back for her, she won’t be captured by Horde Prime, and the revolution will still have a chance.

So before actually saying it out loud, this is Catra’s most brazen declaration of love for Adora. Because it’s completely unprompted and unreciprocated. Catra gives love to Adora without expecting anything in return, which is how unconditional love should be (Catra’s just never been good at expressing it). So the fact that she sacrifices herself and fully expects to get Horde Prime’s wrath and die a meaningless death, having never truly redeemed herself in Adora’s eyes or mended their relationship really is a big deal for Catra. Because she is finally content with just supporting Adora on her new path (even though it’s separate from Catra’s), where she can fulfill her destiny with the revolution.

With this sacrifice, Catra’s motivations finally become clear. She loves Adora, she’s always loved Adora, and everything she did to hurt Adora was coming from a place of her own pain and rejection, which does not make it exclusable, but it also does not make Catra irredeemable either.

Despite everything, she can still earn redemption and forgiveness. No one is too far gone for that.

If Adora, who’s probably been hurt the most by Catra, has the capacity to forgive her, then the rest of the people she’s hurt, along with the audience, can too.

Overall, Catra’s redemption is also just a testament to the fact that people can choose to be a good person whenever they want to. Even if they feel like they don’t matter, or that they’re too far gone to be redeemable or loved, they can always choose to do “one good thing” for once, as Catra does. And I just love that message. 

[morihaus]

Dance

The citizens of Mournhold flock to the palace ballroom, as the Temple has acquisitioned the space for a most momentous event. The living god Almalexia, Mother Morrowind, the Righteous Queen, is set to make her first public appearance in decades to proclaim her support of the Nerevarine amidst a lavish banquet and endorse her station as Hortator. Though the streets of the great city are loud and laden with roaring storms of ash, the people answer the summons of their god, grateful for the grace and kindness of the Lady to provide for her subjects in such a time of strife.

On a raised platform at the end of the expansive chamber, Junah stands on the grandest stage, playing the role of a lifetime beside the beloved goddess. Her wardrobe is ebony and gold, the fashion of the Indoril combined with that of a ruling king; her cape is dark and worn with roses that match those scattered around the ballroom with express purpose, to herald the return of Nerevar himself. Makeup is as always an intensifying of the Indoril facial markings laid into her dark skin, with the added touch of a few strokes under her eye, opposite and complimentary to the marks Almalexia wears under her own. Her dark hair rises in a stylish crest, the austere and ennobling effect intensified by the shorn sides of her head and the trail of dark locks that falls down past her shoulders.

She stands tall, chin raised proudly to display her visage to the audience, who look on in awe. In her right hand she holds the Blade of Nerevar, Trueflame, which burns brightly as a beacon to announce its reforging. To her left stands Almalexia, holding her own blade, Hopesfire, with effortless poise and regality, flattering its twin with its bright blue flame.

The Lady of Mercy floats just so above the stage, as to raise her crown of jade high enough to match the Hortator's plume- but Junah is not looking at the woman she shares the stage with, her dark eyes are professionally locked on the packed in crowd, she only holds the image of what they must see in her mind's eye: the curling tresses of red hair falling down her back, teasing over her pointed ears adorned with jewelry; her serene face, lips turned in a smile that ended in laugh lines, an unashamed sign of warmth and matronly beauty; a woman who radiated power, with a comely dress of blue silk and a plunging neckline, paired with two pauldrons stacked upon one another on an arm that ends in the hand which fiercely grips her enchanted blade. As for herself, Junah did her best to see Nerevar, powerful war-leader, respected hero to her people, and to let the act mask the actor underneath, lost in the scene.

Almalexia delivers a speech for a time, neither short nor long, words carefully plotted out and chosen days before. Then, Junah says her part, exactly as they rehearsed, her voice strong and unwavering, her eyes locked on the crowd, hand gripping the hilt of the blade, her blade. They speak of the defeat of Dagoth Ur, the fulfillment of the Nerevarine's prophecy, the reunification of Morrowind, the beginning of a new era. The Lady officially endorses the Nerevarine, whom only Vivec had seen to declare as genuine thus far, in her own voice, and to her people it would seem that the Hortator has truly reappeared right beside her. Together, exactly on cue, they raise their twin blades aloft, bathing the crowd in their enchanted glow, and a great applause swells to fill the hall, nearly drowning out the storm raging outside.

From there, the blades are made to levitate above the stage through the will of the goddess, suspended side by side for all to see, reunited at last. This is also how Junah and Almalexia resolve to spend the rest of the party, at each other's side at all times, sticking together as, inevitably, a crowd builds around them to pepper them with questions.

For these, Junah remains mostly silent, save for responding to the few queries she's thought of answers to. Almalexia is most gifted with words, and most familiar with conversing with Mournholders especially, and so gracefully flatters their act with words, and by the time her Ordinators usher the questioners away to make space for her and her dear Hortator, most all leave satisfied with what they've heard. They move to a far wall to watch as revelers bustle about tables with food and drink, or take to the dance floor.

Neither one of them feels particularly peckish, so for awhile they simply stand beside one another, like part of the scenery. Junah is content to fade into the backdrop for awhile, left to her thoughts as she only has to stand beside her.

The gentle voice of the goddess brings the room back into focus. "Is something the matter?" She asks, and Junah looks over to see her golden-green eyes fixed right at her.

"What, was I making a face?" Junah quietly asks.

Almalexia is mildly amused as she nods, lip curving up at the remark.

"Shit," Junah mutters under her breath. "I'm sorry, it's just... we're at the beginning of something really big here. I've got a lot on my mind."

She smiles up at her, now standing on the ground and just half a head shorter than the Redguard. "The mark of a good ruler is to always be thinking, but do try to restrain yourself. This is a celebration." With those words, she slips her hand into Junah's, gently rubbing her thumb against it. She takes a step forward, urging Junah toward the center of the room. "Perhaps a dance would get your mind off it?"

A heat rises to Junah's face as her feet obey Almalexia's command, and she, in her heavy armor, allows herself to be pulled delicately forward onto the dance floor. The ball-goers quickly make room for the two of them, and Junah finds herself at the center of attention once again as Almalexia raises her arms, snaked with tattoos and intricate interlocking designs, up to rest around her shoulders. As her mind races to catch up and her heart races in her chest, she instinctively sets her hands on the other woman's waist and finds her footing. Her palm grazes against Almalexia's belt, against the gentle curve of her abdomen, and Junah locks her darting eyes against Almalexia's own calculating gaze.

As the band plays, their feet follow the movement of the music, gracefully swaying at the center of an empty circle formed by the crowd. Most of the dance floor was occupied by this now, many others ceasing dances of their own to simply watch the spectacle. Surprising as it was to hear Mother Morrowind would finally leave her temple, yet more surprising is it to see her in a slow, intimate dance with the Nerevarine, holding onto each other like lovers, her radiant and shapely body pressed up against the cold hard armor of the Hortator.

In the dance, while lovingly peering into Junah's eyes, Almalexia softly speaks. "You're a much better dancer than I'd expected." She quips.

Junah, only half-focusing on her footing, only half-seeing through her own eyes, responds. "I'm classically trained, ma'am."

"So you can be trained this time?" She laughs, a sweet lilting sound, refreshing like wind through the leaves of a tree. "Good to know... and please, Junah, I would have thought we were on a basis of names by now." She smirks at the taller woman, tilting her head playfully.

Junah laughs bashfully. "Right, of course."

This is all she can say before she loses herself again to the scene, watching as Almalexia leans closer, eyelids fluttering closed, lips tilting up towards her own. She meets her half way, bending down- almost dipping her in her arms, as though she were her leading lady, and the curtain was about to fall.

[sokkathebluewolf]

I am chickened out from gladiator because it is this long and it keeps getting longer is it worth my time to read it ??

... Uh, well. I can’t help but wonder if you’re aware this blog is run by the actual author of the story in question? I don’t know if you expect me to give you a non-biased answer when I’ve considered the story was worth 8 years of my life xD as far as I’m concerned, it absolutely has been worth it, but I can’t speak for the whole wide world when it comes to that. If you want the opinions of readers, there’s probably other blogs run by people who have read the story and who might have critical opinions about it... that may be what you were looking for. If, however, you were deliberately hoping to get my opinion on my own story... well, yes, for me it’s clearly worth it xD Otherwise, I would’ve quit ages ago.

The story is indeed very long and it keeps getting longer, and it will keep getting longer because we’re not done yet and won’t be for a while :’D if you’re the type of reader who can’t stand it when they catch up to stories and have to wait for updates, well, feel free to give it a shot when I’m done writing it, I guess? It’ll be a while until then, but it’s up to you. If you don’t like reading really long stories, then it’s probably better for you if you don’t force yourself to read this one, I know not everyone is ready to dedicate that much time to reading something, especially if they have lots of things to do. Hence, if the length daunts you, that’s alright, it daunts me too and I’m responsible for it xD it’s fine if that deters you from reading it.

But as the way you phrased your question almost sounded like you’re challenging me to give you some sort of sales pitch to catch your attention, let’s see if I can pull it off:

Gladiator is a massive ATLA AU, not only in terms of story length but also scope: it’s a complete rewrite of the entirety of ATLA in a more mature setting, starting chapter 1 with the characters 5 years older than they were in canon. Aang’s adventures in saving the world did not take place here because of a simple enough reason: Katara didn’t accompany Sokka on his boat on the fateful day when they were meant to find Aang, which means the story as we’ve known it simply doesn’t take place. I’ve taken liberties here and there, added some changes from canon when I needed to do so, in order to ensure the story works, but the gist of the story is to set a stage where the Fire Nation marched onwards, practically unopposed, and conquered the Earth Kingdom with the power of Sozin’s Comet (just in case it needs to be clarified, without certain technological developments, Ozai’s wild plan to incinerate the whole world wouldn’t happen, and if Team Avatar isn’t assembled before the Comet shows up, said technological developments simply wouldn’t exist... :’D). I’ve had to figure out how many details would change, how much of the original story would or wouldn’t happen without Team Avatar’s involvement, I think most my choices have been solid, but it’ll be up to you to decide if you think they are or not if you read the story.

The worldbuilding of Gladiator, then, is preeeetty huge and complicated because of that starting point. There’s a lot of elements that are completely new (such as the Gladiator League and all its derivates), some OCs, some lore expansion, so you can definitely say it’s an ambitious project. In a sense, I’ve reset canon to zero, and at the same time I haven’t, which makes things complicated but, for me, really fun to develop. If you’re interested in seeing more of the Avatarverse explored, characters repurposed, with new dynamics and relationships, Gladiator may just be what you’ve been looking for :D

In my experience, the main reason why most people stumble into this fic (other than by sorting FF.net’s ATLA stories by review count and drawing blanks upon glimpsing a Sokkla story on the first page xD) is because they’ve been drawn into Sokkla, or they’re looking for stories centered around Azula or Sokka. Gladiator, evidently, features all three such elements because, obviously, those two are the protagonists and their relationship is the beating heart of the whole tale. I’ve been asked in the past who’s the real protagonist and I honestly still have no idea xD but anyways, if you’re interested in reading a story with a toooooon of Azula character development, even if it takes place across a long, long time, this story may just do the trick. I’ve done the best I could to keep her character as true to what I believed a young adult Azula might become, within the circumstances of this story. She has grown a LOT in 200 chapters, goes without saying (if she hadn’t, I’d be one heck of a failure of an author x’D), so if you’re interested in seeing a slow but effective growth arc for Azula, you’ll certainly find that in Gladiator. Same is true for Sokka, but I think most people who come to this fic for Sokka are interested in seeing him being a badass, which we have plenty of as well xD still, it’s also a long and slow process for Sokka to grow into a powerful warrior, neither him nor Azula start out in the story with all the answers, and they both bump into many hurdles as they navigate their complicated lives.

There’s a lot of humor in Gladiator, perhaps more than expected with a story that has that sort of dark premise, but it’s, on great measure, because Sokka and Azula are inevitably given to banter xD if you want to read a lot of banter between those two, well, you may not be bored in 200 chapters because, while the nature of their exchanges does vary as they both develop, their conversations are usually pretty spirited and they love trying to outsmart each other all the time.

If you are already a Sokkla shipper and the main reason you’re here is because you want more Sokkla goodness in your life... I’ll just say Gladiator has become a bit of a dream come true for me as a Sokkla shipper as well, because it’s the perfect space for me to work with virtually every idea I’ve ever had for these two. Yes, there’s drama and conflict here and there, if you’re not too given to angst there’s a few parts of the story that won’t sit so well with you, though if you love angst you’ll probably enjoy them plenty... yet what I’m most proud of, with this story, is having developed their relationship not only as best I could, but I’ve also attempted to defy typical storytelling structures for romance stories, where the lead couple can’t seem to have a stable relationship because “that would be boring”. Screw that, man: these two have been in a serious relationship together in-story by now for well over half the published chapters, and I’ve had the time of my life writing their dynamics as a couple while the plot continues to develop around them. This, however, is not everyone’s cup of tea, so if you aren’t all that given to seeing such traditional romance storytelling structures dismissed because I wanted to write my favorite ship dealing with all their external struggles while finding strength in the bond they share, Gladiator may not hold your attention long enough for you to devote yourself to reading it beyond chapter 100-ish. On the other hand, if this subversion of romance structure is what you’ve been looking for all your life, or if it’s what you always wanted and never knew you wanted it, or if you’re simply curious as to whether it works or not, Gladiator may suit your interests fairly well. Again, Sokkla is the absolute center of this story, both together and independently, so if you want to see a rewrite of ATLA with them at the core of just... everything? xD that’s absolutely what you’ll find here.

That being said, there’s things I guess you should mind about Gladiator: I have some relatively controversial takes about certain things, including interpretations of fan-favorite characters that some people have been known to take offense over. I, personally, believe my interpretations of those characters don’t deviate that much from canon or that, when they do, the setting itself explains why the deviation works as it does, but due to the fact that I work with a protagonist who was in a villainous role back in ATLA, her relationships with some characters can be more complicated than a lot of people seem to believe they should be. Hence, if you’re not particularly adverse to reading content that brings up big questions about the motivations of certain characters, or how they’d react if the story from ATLA hadn’t happened exactly as it did, you’ll have enough fun in Gladiator. If, however, you don’t particularly care to see anything that shows beloved characters in a not-so-flattering light, this story may not be for you (though, if you’re willing to humor me and allow my story to question your perception of those characters, feel free to try the story as well). 

There’s also a variety of dark themes and situations in Gladiator, something that any reader should be warned about in this day and age: I am 100% against violence for the sake of violence, to name one such subject, and I generally try to portray it with as much nuance as possible, but even if I feature my own characters criticizing their violent world and wanting to put an end to the strife caused by the Fire Nation, some of the violence in Gladiator may be a little too much for the readers who prefer the tone of the original ATLA. Hence, if that’s how it is for you, it’s another reason to approach the story with caution. I won’t pretend I’ve handled every theme and subject perfectly, but I’ve never wanted the darker moments to feel gratuitous in any way, so if you’re open to reading a darker take on the Avatarverse, this may work for you after all.

Alas! If you want to see Azula growing out of the toxic Fire Nation indoctrination, if you want to see Sokka gaining confidence and strength as a man and warrior, if you want to see a fleshed-out but still very much villainous Ozai, if you want to see Toph fulfilling her dreams of joining an all-out fighting league where she can beat people up for a living, if you want to see a myriad of secondary ATLA characters (like Song, or Shoji!) given new lives and even genuine protagonism, if you want to see Zuko discovering he’s allowed to just... be happy? xD Gladiator may prove interesting enough for you.

Furthermore, if you want to see Azula being true friends with Mai and Ty Lee, discovering a dragon, developing new firebending styles, confronting her misplaced beliefs about herself, rebelling subtly (and lately, not so subtly) against her father, growing into a great leader who could change the Fire Nation’s nefarious direction...  aaand if you want to see Sokka fighting creatively (sometimes with TWO swords!), navigating the dangerous waters of interacting with Fire Lord Ozai, staying true to his beliefs while also learning that the world is not as black-and-white as he was raised to think it was, understanding himself better and making the most of his potential as a quick learner, writing embarrassing haiku and being an unapologetic rebel who goes toe-to-toe with Heads of State just because he can... yep. Probably read it? xD

Lastly... if you want to see Sokka and Azula grow through their mistakes, learning to understand each other, fighting side by side, training together, dancing to no music, learning the underrated pleasure of proper communication in a relationship, sassing each other left and right, flirting in ridiculous ways, taunting each other in many regards, laughing at each other’s terrible jokes, protecting each other fiercely, challenging each other to a spicy ramen eating contest, discovering indirect bending, being highly inappropriate at times and places where they shouldn’t be, making long, dangerous yet fun journeys together, sneaking around to meet up when they’re not supposed to, standing by each other in their darkest moments, watching over the other when they’re sick/injured, being ready to sacrifice virtually anything for each other, and even defying and defeating even death to save each other...? Well, I don’t know if there’s any other stories where you might find all of this, but I can guarantee you’ll find it in Gladiator :)

If none of this is convincing enough... that’s a shame, but I understand. If it convinced you to give it a shot, however... I guess I’ll just hope you enjoy it enough to stick around! :) thanks for taking my story into consideration regardless of whatever you decide. Have a nice day!

[lovelysnake1994]

Tony grinned excitedly as he watched his step father leave the house. He had been waiting to sneak off for the entirety of the morning.

Howard was his greatest concern, with the help of Wanda he could manage to sneak out unnoticed by her sister Natasha.

Tony was Howard's late wife's son, Howard seemed to accept him early on into their marriage. However, soon after their wedding Tony's mother fell ill. After a year of fighting for her life, she lost. Leaving Tony with Howard and his two sisters. Tony then found out Howard wasn't who he had originally appeared to be, he was vile, and cruel.

Upon Maria's death he made Tony his servant, denied him basic necessities, and forbade him from attending any events they went to as a family.

Natasha made Tony's life even more miserable with her jeers and taunts. Though her sister, Wanda, was kind to Tony. She brought him meals after Howard refused him the right to eat, and occasionally helped him with his labor tasks. She had been the only good thing in his life, that was until Tony met a mysterious guy in the woods.

He had been on a short trip to pick up Howard's new tailored suit, and on his way back he took the nearest shortcut through the woods. As he was walking he heard the snap of a twig and turned around to see a handsome guy struggling to get up. Tony offered him help and he was instantly infatuated.

He assumed the man was a peasant too, judging by the clothes he wore. "I'm Steve."

Tony smiled sweetly and shook the blonde's hand. "I'm Tony."

Tony headed to the garden where Wanda awaited him. "Natasha is occupied, and Dad will be arriving home before sundown." Tony nodded gratefully and took off, his mind far away.

***

Steve changed into his casual clothes hastily, he was beyond late for his escapade in the woods. His royal duties had kept him occupied all day, and he feared that Tony would take his absence the wrong way.

He hadn't told Tony that he was the prince, because over time he had found that it ruined his relationships before they even started.

He wanted someone to be interested in what he had to offer, not just his royal status.

The day he met Tony he had gotten lost in the woods and had scuffed up all his clothes. He found Tony and was immediately immersed in the brunettes beauty. It had been a few months since Steve and Tony had been seeing each other, and they were both smitten.

Steve mounted his horse hastily and took off. His thoughts consisting of the brunette beauty that had stolen his heart.

***

Tony had waited patiently for Steve to arrive, it was getting dark out and Tony was beginning to head home. He was disheartened that Steve hadn't bothered to show up, but was also concerned for his well being. He knew Steve, he must have had a good reason to not come.

Just as Tony was starting to head back to the Manor, he heard leaves shuffling nearby. The initial panic he felt soon turned into relief as a familiar face came to view.

"Hey." Steve sounded breathless, and that's exactly how Tony felt as he gazed into the other man's eyes. "I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time while I was fulfilling some- erm tasks."

Tony looked at Steve uncertainly before nodding.

"No worries, I understand. Though you must know I can't stay for much longer. I have to head back to the Manor before sundown."

Steve sighed in disappointment.

"Well at least let me walk you through the woods."

Tony agreed, and the two set off. They talked the whole way, their chats always came naturally.

Talking with Tony didn't feel forced like it did when he spoke to the women his father insisted he marry.

Their easy, lighthearted conversations were one of the many reasons Steve was actively pursuing Tony.

Steve wasn't sure how his parents would react to his choice of partner, but he hoped that his happiness would assure them that Tony was the one for him.

When they neared the end of the road Steve kissed Tony's hand gingerly. "When can I see you again?"

Tony blushed, and struggled to think under Steve's gaze. "I'm able to see you this Thursday."

Steve shook his head dejectedly. "The ball is on Thursday." He muttered

Tony looked at Steve, surprised. "You're attending the ball?" Steve cursed his stupidity.

"My master is going, I'm attending to provide him assistance." He lied easily, Tony cocked his head.

"Isn't it a ball to provide the prince with eligible bachelors? Is he attending as a worthy candidate?" Tony chuckled. "I suppose he is." Steve smiled.

"Well I've heard the prince has rejected every candidate he has been introduced to, so I hope your master isn't expecting much." Steve laughed, he hadn't known the public was aware of his selective nature when it came to a love interest. "I must go now, surely we'll run into each other again. There's no need to set a date anymore." Tony grinned brightly, and Steve nearly melted. "May I kiss you before you leave?"

Tony's hands wrapped around Steve's neck. "I don't know why you insist on asking my permission, I'm yours."

Steve's knees suddenly felt weak, Tony was his.

Hearing those words come from Tony made Steve oddly giddy inside.

Steve captured Tony's lips in a searing kiss. He knew that his heart would forever be Tony's, and though that excited Steve for the future, it also made him fear that a life with Tony wasn't written in the stars

after all.

***

Tony sighed dreamily, as he always did after seeing Steve. Wanda watched Tony in amusement as he sunk into her bed and hummed a cheerful tune.

"I'm absolutely dire to know about your time in the woods." Wanda smiled and joined Tony on the bed.

Tony smiled as he remembered how wonderful Steve made him feel, regardless of the amount of time spent together.

Tony told Wanda about his kiss with Steve. The kiss had certainly not been their first, yet it made Tony feel like it had been. Every moment Tony spent with Steve made him feel like he was falling all over again.

Tony and Wanda chatted lightly for a moment when something across the room caught his eye.

"What's that dress for?" Tony asked, eyeing the elegant creme colored dress with great interest.

Wanda grinned. "It's for the ball." She had a far away look in her eyes, as if she were imagining herself dancing the night away already.

"You wish to try your luck with the prince?" Tony looked concerned, he didn't want her to get too hopeful only for her to be let down in the end.

"Well yes. Admittedly it was my father who was the one that insisted both Natasha and I attend the ball, but I'm growing very excited as the day nears."

Tony was glad to see Wanda so excited over something other than his own love life.

She had spent so long hearing Tony's romantic stories, and it spurred her on. She longed to experience all the things Tony had shared, Wanda filled with anticipation at the new possibility.

"I'm glad you're pursuing something, or rather someone, that you want." Wanda blushed.

"I only advise you not to hope for too much, I've heard the prince is exceedingly hard to please."

Wanda nodded understandingly.

"Steve's also going to be attending the ball." Tony fell into his dreamy haze again and Wanda rolled her eyes affectionately.

"Maybe I'll see him there, I'll be sure to look for a 'dashing man with stunning blue eyes and a breathtaking smile.'" Tony laughed as Wanda recited Tony's description of Steve.

"I better head back downstairs before Howard finds us here." Tony picked up the broom he had previously abandoned and started to walk off.

"Wait" Wanda called, Tony turned his head and regarded her with a puzzled look.

"Why don't you go to the ball?" A beat.

Tony busted into laughter, tears rolled down his eyes as he clutched his stomach. Wanda frowned at him and watched as Tony fell to the ground and continued laughing. She even felt like joining in, but her pride was far too big.

"I haven't laughed like that in a long while." Tony said once he sobered down.

"Assuming you're done with your childish antics, I feel the need to tell you that I'm serious."

Tony looked at Wanda, confused. "Wanda, you know Howard won't let me go. He doesn't want me to represent the Stark family in any way."

Wanda pursed her lips in thought. "But there must be a way to get you to the ball, don't you want to see your own prince?" Tony nodded, he thought that Steve being called a prince was fitting, he was Tony's dashing prince after all.

"Then let's find a way to get you to attend the ball, without my father's knowledge." Tony agreed hesitantly, if Howard found out about their plan it wouldn't end well. Yet, Tony found that it was worth it if he could dance the night away with the man he loved.

***

"Tony." Wanda hissed, Tony peered around to see if he was being watched before he met Wanda in the garden. "We're going to the ball, wait half an hour before you take the horse." She gestured to the elegant horse next to the stables.

Tony agreed before wishing Wanda luck, she certainly needed it if she wished to captivate the prince. With that, Wanda set off towards the carriage awaiting her.

***

Steve eyed the dancing people disinterestedly, he had a partner after all. He would tell his parents about Tony soon enough, for they were growing frustrated with Steve. He knew they wanted him to marry, he could only hope that Tony would find it in his heart to forgive him.

Though Steve had lied to Tony, he was absolutely certain that he was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.

Steve's parents were looking at him encouragingly. "Go ahead, son. Dance with some of the people here, after all you've been in search of a spouse for far too long now." Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm in no rush to find a spouse father, though you're most certainly eager."

Joseph was torn between amusement and helplessness. "I worry about you son, I encourage you to lead with a partner by your side, you are to be king soon."

Steve looked out into the dance floor warily, he decided that he wouldn't put off the inevitable any longer.

Steve wandered around, socializing with the guests. He hadn't asked anyone to dance yet, and it had mostly to do with the fact everyone seemed to be eyeing him like a piece of meat.

Steve met a pair of kind eyes across the room, he could tell the girl was modest, and he appreciated her simplicity. She wasn't flashy, for she hadn't worn any expensive jewelry, yet she carried herself elegantly. Steve went to greet her, he thought speaking to a genuine person would be a nice change.

"Hello." Steve smiled at the girl, she hurried to bow down. "Your majesty." Steve regarded her with an amused look. "There's no need for formalities, it makes me feel like my father." Steve grimaced, it made the girl laugh.

Steve smiled at that, he decided he liked her laugh.

"Would you care to dance?" The girl took his hand and nodded, with that Steve swept her off onto the dance floor. "I'm sorry for being so terribly rude, I never asked for your name."

"Wanda"

***

Joseph and Sarah watched as their son danced with the mystery girl. "Do you reckon she's the one, darling?" Sarah asked as she continued to watch the dancing couple, Joseph shook his head firmly.

"His heart is not in it, perhaps it is a possibility that he has already given his affections away."

Sarah eyed her husband suspiciously. "Are you suggesting he's been seeing someone?"

Joseph shrugged. "It would explain his unpredictable absences." Sarah considered the possibility, though the turmoil in her stomach didn't allow her to do much thinking.

Joseph looked at his beloved son sadly, he hoped he had been right. All he knew is that his son deserved to be happy, and that would accept any suitor Steve chose into the royal family.

The two parents weren't the only ones that had been watching the dancing pair, Howard smirked at the sight of his youngest daughter dancing with the prince, his night was going much better than he had expected.

***

Wanda felt like she was in a dream, she never wanted the magical night to end. She looked up at the prince dreamily, they were bound to be married soon if he felt for her as strongly as she did for him.

Wanda was so blinded by her desire for love that she hadn't noticed the respectful distance Steve kept between them, or Steve's friendly nature.

Steve started to lead Wanda into another dance, when he caught sight of a certain brunette.

Tony looked confused when he saw Steve on the dance floor with Wanda.

Steve cursed himself and pulled away from Wanda abruptly, he didn't know what to do, Tony wasn't meant to be there. Wanda grinned when she saw Tony, and she dragged Steve along to greet him.

"I'm glad to see you could make it, don't worry, Father is out in the gardens."

Steve and Tony looked at each other as if they were complete strangers. For once, they were both dressed nicely and not in the usual attire they wore  they met up. "Tony, this is Prince Steven."

Tony blanched. "Prince?" Wands nodded, unsure of the reason why Tony looked so crestfallen.

Steve reached out to clasp the other man's hands into his own. "Tony.." He pleaded, Steve knew it would be difficult to get Tony to listen to him.

"I don't understand." Tony stammered.

"You're not the prince, are you?" Steve swallowed thickly, he couldn't lie himself out of this problem.

Steve's silence spoke volumes and Tony snatched his hands from Steve. "You've been lying to me!"

People were starting to watch the scene that was unfolding.

Wanda's confusion rivaled Tony's, what on earth was Tony on about? "Please, let's step out into the gardens to talk." Tony scoffed.

"There's nothing to talk about, this is complete madness!" Tony raved. "This ball was thrown for you to find your future spouse!"

Steve was very aware of the people who were now watching the spectacle. "You know I deny every marriage request, you told me so yourself."

Tony backed away slowly. "That doesn't change anything, I can't deal with all of this right now."

Wanda was still painfully confused, did Tony and the

prince already know each other?

"What is going on?" She demanded, Wanda's question went unnoticed as Steve tried to explain and apologize to Tony all at once.

It was all so overwhelming, the crowd's murmurs, Wanda's questions, Steve's sudden revelation, so Tony ran. He weaved his way through the crowd of people and ignored Steve's pleas for him to return.

The only thing he knew for certain right then as he ran out of the castle, was that he hadn't ever felt as betrayed as he did in that moment.

[felldragxn]

- “Does it hurt, my child?”

- A snicker, from the shadows. Her eyes dart from side to side, searching and seeing nothing. She knows she’ll see nothing, and yet she refuses to cast her sights within. Finding nothing, they lower, to the body in her arms - it’s not real - and with what pitiful strength remains she pulls it closer to her, her fingers getting tangled in blue strands of hair.

- It’s not real, and yet it hurts just as much as it did back then.

- “I would’ve thought you’d gotten over it by now. Yet even after becoming a part of me - you still don’t seem to think like I do.”

- She closes her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. None of this is real. She’s not even here, now. Dragged out against her will, as if there was anything left to cling to. For so long she had slept, aware only of the initial slaughter, and then… silence. Peaceful, oblivious sleep, with no chance to fight back. So why now?

- “Why I woke you? Honestly, I was getting a bit bored all by myself.” It laughs in genuine amusement, a tone that chills her. She opens her eyes, as if expecting to see its figure in front of her, six eyes glaring at her without mercy from the shadows. What she sees, instead, is a change in that figure in her arms.

- The cry from her throat barely sounds human, as she registers Lucina’s form.

- “With nobody left to oppose me - well, now, there’s just no challenge to it.” The laugh changes from amused to mocking, and she sets the corpse - it’s not real it’s not real - down on the ground in front of her. Her daughter’s face serene, as if she’s merely sleeping. As if for years she hadn’t been suffering all on her own. Robin’s hand reaches out to touch her face, as Grima’s voice tells her, “Even Naga has fallen… You are all that remains~”

- She could refuse to believe it, knowing Grima would tell her such things in hopes of driving her to despair. She could deny and receive no comforting confirmation as to whether or not these are lies. She could accept it as truth, and despair knowing that she is the only one who remains in this broken world - a shell of herself, not even living.

- What flares up in her isn’t quite anger or sadness. She doesn’t really understand what drives her. She can’t be certain of anything - she can’t remember how to feel anything. Maybedetermined is the right word, as she stands, staring fondly down at her daughter, and draws her sword.

- “Oh, now, isn’t that cute,” it says, snickering as she sets off into the dark.

- She wanted to find Grima, so she would. Even if it didn’t matter. Even if she couldn’t really kill it. If she could pretend, just for a moment, that she had some sort of say in anything, the ability to change the fate that had befallen everybody she cared about.

- Gods. Gods.

- Chrom who had loved and trusted her. Lucina who had depended on her. Frederick who, despite his early suspicions, had put his life at stake to try and save her from her destiny. Her family back home - Emmeryn’s memory - her promise to end the war, no matter the cost.

- The cost was everything. The war was over, turned to slaughter.

- She ended up back where she started, and this time it was not Lucina. It was not merely one corpse. Numb, she turned around, and walked a different way.

- Her poor son, born into this life.. She had freed him to a better future -

- “Nothing will change,” their voice laughed, “nothing can.”

- Shut up.

- It hated her for that. It hated her for taking away its only connection to humanity beyond her. Because she could admit, at least, that she was no longer human. She was the Fell Dragon, from the moment she was born.

- She remembered vividly the deaths she had been forced to witness. Those three who had taken her in and allowed her to stay despite her Plegian ancestry, the ones who loved her dearly. She had loved them as family. And yet by her hand, each way slain. She could remember Chrom’s clear last words, Lissa’s hopeful smile which turned to confusion when she was inevitably betrayed. The look in Frederick’s eyes that told her he believed himself to be a failure, unable to protect any of them, unable to fulfill her final wishes.

- This was her fate, even if she had tried to deny it. But the her in that time might still have a chance.

- She stopped walking, and stared at her own body on the ground before her, lifeless and cold.

- She had long since become a walking shell of herself. Perhaps it was hopeless to believe she could accomplish anything. Maybe Grima was right after all, and her last effort at protecting her son would lead to nothing. Maybe Lucina was dead. Maybe the future couldn’t change. Maybe the world was doomed.

- It was all her fault. Peace?

- She stepped forward, gripping the sword in both hands, and stabbing it into the body in the ground.

- Reasoning?

- And again.

- Validar, a victim?

- And again.

- And each time, her emotionless facade began to break down. More force into each blow, more tears running down her face. More, more, more. The only sound she could hear were her own sobs.

- Arms wrapped around from behind her, as if to soothe her. It pet her hair, and whispered in her ear. It told her of all the ways they died. The Risen, the Grimleal. Sacrificing for their families, trying to kill her. All of it, all of it, “It’s all your fault.”

- Its laugh, like music, in her ears. A strangled cry escaped her in response. For a moment, it seemed like she could no longer hear either of the sounds as she raised the sword from theher on the ground, and drove it through the her that she assumed she was.

- It didn’t laugh anymore.

- “You have to find me, Robin,” it called, something off about its voice. But she fell to her knees, uncaring, hands shaking next to the sword. This wasn’t real. “You have to kill me, don’t you? Are you just giving up now?” This wasn’t real, and yet for years it had hurt so badly. What was the point. “How boring.” What was the point? “How miserable.”

- She fell to the ground, in place of the body she’d mutilated before.

- Why did it hurt so badly, when everything was already lost?

- Gods, she just wanted to rest.

- Naga, please let her rest.

- Please.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Blue Eyes Part 12

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 12: Ella turns her back to Birmingham and stays with Alfie. But there’s still trouble they cannot shake 

         It still surprised Alfie to wake up with Ella in bed with him. Even though it had been nearly nine weeks of the routine. He’d been counting, yes. Because every Saturday morning, when he allowed himself to stay in bed a little longer than usual, he remarked at the sight. The next day would be the ninth Saturday.

           It gave him time to notice certain things about Ella in a setting he hadn’t seen her in before.

           Without fail, she always slept on her side. So there was a fifty percent chance she would be facing him when he woke up. It was one of those mornings. Her hand wedged between her cheek and the pillow, her lips parted slightly as she slept soundly. Her dark hair had grown longer than she usually kept it. It only made sense, she said Ada or Polly usually cut her hair. They always had.

           She’d rotate between wearing her slips to bed and swiping one of Alfie’s freshly laundered shirts. He didn’t complain. He liked the way it overwhelmed her smaller frame, grazing mid-thigh, and the sleeves over her hands if she didn’t roll them up.

           Alfie didn’t complain about a lot of things those nine weeks. It was comforting to have Ella with him. It had blossomed into a strangely domestic scenario. She never left after the night they reunited. She’d simply gone to work the next day and arrived that night with most of her things.

           He didn’t even bat an eye. Because it felt right. More than anything, it was what he craved. The woman he loved always there. Becoming accustomed to her rose and honey perfume and lavender soap, the feminine scents taking a hold of his flat. She arrived home from work far earlier than he did. Sometimes he’d find her in the parlor listening to the radio or already in bed, depending on the time of night.

           Alfie would’ve loved to bury his head in the sand and accept that it was heaven. But he couldn’t. The outside world was still threatening to spill into the quiet home they kept.

           The Shelbys were still in prison and Alfie could see Ella’s hope waning with each passing day. He saw the uneasiness in her eyes. The distrust of everything around her. Her blue eyes always glancing at the quiet telephone or out the window.

           It made Alfie agitated because he couldn’t fulfill her wishes. To make sure her family was spared. The only man who had that power was being an unbearable prick and Alfie was sure he would cause bodily harm the next time their path’s crossed.

           Of course, he wouldn’t. He’d bide his time. Wait for Tommy to make a move. Because there was something the Blinder knew that Alfie didn’t. Something brewing on the horizon and only Tommy was at a high enough point to see what it was. And if it involved Tommy, it involved the entire family whether they liked it or not. That meant Ella so inevitably; Alfie would have to gear up for whatever battle. He wouldn’t let Tommy’s past fuck-ups affect her anymore.

            All he could do was try to win her trust back, even just the little bit he would allow her. Ella had doubled down on her decisions, cozying up in Camden with Alfie. But she listened. Watched. Waited for that sign that something was amiss. Anticipated the next time he would lie or betray her. Maybe he’d lead the police right back to her. Maybe he’d send her back to her brother. She loved him, enough to believe he wouldn’t do such a thing. But there was once a time she thought her own brother would never let his family go to prison.

           As the weeks passed, however, it became increasingly difficult to keep up her guard around him. Not when he was so gentle and cautious around her. With every passing day, she was reminded of why she found him so endearing.

           She’d truly laughed for the first time in what felt like ages because of him. When he scolded Cyril in Russian for snatching half a loaf of bread off the kitchen counter. But only a moment later he was sneaking the mastiff table scraps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           They made love for the first time a few days after the seventh Saturday together.

           Alfie had returned late from work. It wasn’t strange, but Ella was anxious to see him after a long day of work. She stayed up in bed for a bit before she realized she hadn’t left out anything for Alfie to eat.

           Ella wasn’t much of a cook. Not that Alfie seemed to mind much. He often made himself breakfast as he left for work much earlier than she did. And if he did come home early enough for supper, he was more than content with whatever Ella came up with. She learned her way around a kitchen from Polly and Ada. Neither were symbols of a perfect housewife. She certainly could feed a clan of Travelers. Skinning a rabbit seemed much easier than producing grand meals from scratch. It was especially intimidating to consider cooking traditionally Jewish dishes. She thought Alfie might like the gesture, but was terrified to disappoint. How embarrassing would it be to only point out the obvious? That she would never be the Jewish wife his family expected him to have.

           She was ruminating on this occurring fear as she cut up a loaf of bread in the kitchen. Cyril stood by her side, his tail wagging expectantly.

           When the front door opened, he turned and rushed over to greet Alfie. Ella heard the man quietly greet the dog, his heavy boots joined by Cyril’s paws padding on the hallway floor.

           “El?” Alfie looked puzzled to see her still awake.

           “I didn’t really make anything for dinner I…” She turned and gasped.

           He was sporting a black eye that certainly hadn’t been there that morning. He winced, knowing he wouldn’t have been able to hide it from her even if he tried. “Don’t worry, dealt with the fucker who did it.” It was mildly pleasing to know that the man had a bag of bricks tied to his ankle and dropped into the river. Clean cut. No blood. Wasn’t exactly eye for an eye but Alfie didn’t play that way.

           Ella grabbed a cold cloth to give to him. “Put that on it.” She instructed firmly. She had nearly a lifetime’s experience with tending to black eyes both her own and her brothers’.

           “What’re you still doing up, love?” He asked, gently pressing the cloth to his bruised eye.

           “Well, I’d gone out to dinner earlier with Amelia. I completely forgot to make you anything. If you’d like, I could put something together…”

           “Ain’t your job to feed me,” He chuckled and sat down to take off his boots. “Who’da ever thought you’d become such a little domestic mouse after a couple of months?” He teased.

           Ella couldn’t help but smile and walked over to unbutton his waistcoat and kiss his forehead. “Well is Cyril going to take care of you?” She murmured back tauntingly. “Because you’ve got a black eye, love.”

           “In me own fucking house.” He shook his head and playfully grabbed the skirt of her nightgown. “Toying with me in me own house.”

           She giggled and batted his hands away. While leaving the kitchen, she glanced over her shoulder. “Eat something. I’ll draw you a bath. Or would you rather I go to bed?”      

           “Cheeky girl.” He grunted and stood up. “Go on, I’ll be up in a minute.”

           She smiled and headed upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           After a long soak to ease the ache in his body, Alfie dried off and walked into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Ella’s blue eyes followed him across the room as he went to rummage through the dresser.

           Maybe it was just timing, but she’d never seen him so vulnerable. Stripped of all the trappings he used to boost his stature. Never seen the tattoos that crawled over the blade of his shoulder, around the cuff, and onto his chest. Symbols, words, letters she didn’t recognize. Scars etched into several places on his body. A new one shown with every movement of his muscles. Some mildly faded nicks. Others angry and deep-set.

           It was hard to get over how beautiful he was.

           Ella stood from the bed and crossed the floor between them. Alfie heard her shy footsteps on the creaking floor and turned, a shirt in hand. He didn’t speak for a moment and neither did she. Her eyes scanned his torso as if she were cataloging every inch of it.

           Alfie’s breath hitched when she reached up and touched his chest. Her eyes found his again.

           “You’re not meant to have sex ‘fore marriage in your religion.” She clarified without much context.

           He swallowed and shook his head subtly. “No, not really.”

           Her fingertips were light against his skin. “How many women have you slept with?”

           “I uh…” He wasn’t sure what sort of answer she was looking for. But he decided sticking to the truth was ideal. Probably wouldn’t believe him if he testified he was untouched. “Didn’t keep count.”

           Her expression of curiosity didn’t falter. “I’m the last one then.”

           Alfie’s pupils blew wide. The unexpected bout of possessiveness from her was indescribable. It was like a hand reaching right into his chest and clutching at his heart. Without a second to spare, he scooped her up in his arms, hands firm on her thighs. “Ain’t ever made love before. Fucked, sure, but never made love.” He walked her to the bed, her arms and legs wrapping around him tightly. Eyes fixed on him. “So you’d be the first and last woman to claim that prize.” A smirk crossed his lips.

           “Gladly.” She murmured and kissed him without abandon.

           It was like sticking a hand into a fire without getting burned. Ella couldn’t have Alfie close enough. She needed to feel every inch of him against her. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, clinging to him with every movement.

           With every flex of muscle, they stoked the fire fostered between them. At the peak, Ella cried out and buried her face into his shoulder. She was trembling so badly, Alfie was terrified he’d hurt her.

           When he regained his voice, he drew back and cupped her cheek. “You alright? Did I hurt you?”

           Ella laughed breathlessly and released her grip on him. Her fingers carded through his hair. “The complete opposite.” She captured his lips again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

           She was beautiful. Alfie couldn’t look at her without thinking that. It made his heartache when he woke up to her beside him. As each Saturday passed, he became more and more comfortable with the idea of forever. Forever having her, forever being hers. Used to be he didn’t know what forever was. That was until he found himself in her eyes.

           It was terrifying for a man like him. Someone who didn’t think he deserved forever with someone like her. But she’d firmly rooted herself in his home and his life. And he would never turn her away, not when he knew how devastatingly painful it was.

           So every morning, he kissed her forehead and whispered three words.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Around the twelfth Saturday, Alfie noticed Ella was confining herself. For good reason, she hadn’t been back to Birmingham. But she didn’t roam in London. She’d been keeping herself to Camden much to his surprise. It was nice, she told him about the women she’d met including Ollie’s wife.

           He wasn’t sure if it was a tactic to try and forget her family. It didn’t seem like a healthy strategy but he wasn’t sure how to bring up the matter. Besides, she appeared happy enough. There were always the subtle hints she unwittingly gave up about her worry. But she would brush him off if he ever inquired if she was okay.

           One night, Alfie came home to the house smelling like an actual bakery. Warmth radiated from the kitchen and Ella had the radio loud enough so she could hear it from the parlor.

           He greeted Cyril while hanging his coat up. “What’s she up to then?” He asked the mastiff and followed him into the kitchen.

           Ella was humming along to the music, subtly dancing around the kitchen. She spun back and forth between the counter and the table. Her curls pinned up to accommodate for the longer length they were. She’d fashioned a small scarf into a headband to hold back any stray pieces of hair. She had what appeared to be a new apron tied around her waist and was wearing one of Alfie’s button-down shirts, the sleeves bunched up around her elbows, and a pair of loose-fitting trousers.

           Alfie smiled and snuck up behind her. She shrieked when he tickled her sides. “Alfred Solomons!” She smacked his arm. “Don’t fucking do that when I’ve got a knife in me hand!”

           He laughed and surveyed the scene in front of him. “You baking, love?” There was flour everywhere, even in Ella’s dark hair and across her cheek. The scent of bread also wafted from the oven.

           She pulled a sour face when she sensed the hint of amusement in his voice. “So what if I am?” Her hands went to her hips.

           Alfie wrapped his arms around her waist. “Didn’t think you liked baking, s’all.”

           Ella frowned and slung her arms around his neck. “Not much good at it.” She admitted. “Minnie tried teaching me. Says she’ll teach me how to make Challah.”

           “That’s nice.” He nodded and recognized the name of one of his neighbors down the street. She was one of the women Ella had befriended. “Made a fucking mess but smells good.” He brushed the flour off her cheek and tried to comb it out of her hair.

           She shrugged. “We’ll see how it turns out. Trying to be proper, I s’pose.”

           Alfie’s brow furrowed. “That what this is ‘bout?” He tilted her chin up so she couldn’t avoid eye contact. “Love, you don’t need to do all this. You’re not…” He waved a hand around to find the words. “Don’t need you to be like them.”

           “Like Minnie?”

           “Right. I know that’s not you. Don’t have to pretend to be something you’re not, right, if ya just trying to please me. Love you the way you are.”

           Ella stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flicked sheepishly away from his face. “Just thought you’d…I dunno.”

           Alfie reached around her waist to untie the apron, slipping it off and tossing it onto the flour-covered counter. He took her hand and coaxed her into the parlor where the music was loudest.

           She pouted but accepted the gesture and followed him down the hall. Her arms slipped back around him as he pulled her into a slow dance. Her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

           “Me mum, yeah, wanted me to marry a good Jewish woman. Someone to take care of the house, cook Kosher, pop out Jewish babies. If I wanted that, I would’ve tried to find someone like that long time ago, right? But I didn’t because I were looking for you, weren’t I?”

           Ella smiled slightly. “Looking for trouble? ‘Cause that’s all I am.”

           “Trouble or not, you’re fucking worth it, ain’t ya?” He grazed his lips over her temple.

           “Alfie, I’m afraid.” She admitted in a voice just loud enough to hear over the music.

           “Afraid of what, love?”

           She chewed on her lip and listened to his heartbeat for a moment before she answered. “I’m afraid of what’s to come and how it’s gonna affect us. Something’s coming, I know it is.”

           After speaking to Tommy weeks earlier, Alfie agreed with her. There certainly was something in the air. “We’ll be okay.” He murmured. “Won’t let anything happen to you, yeah?”

           “Just want to stay like this.” Uncertainty made her voice waver. “Please let it stay like this, Alfie.”

           He tightened his arms around her to comfort her. “Sh, sh, s’alright. It’ll be alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Every Wednesday afternoon, Ella would travel down the street to Minnie’s flat. There, she would hold tea for the friend group. The location never varied. Minnie was one of the few women in the group who didn’t have children. So the rest of the group took the afternoon as a welcomed break from the kids. Either they were in school, or they would drop them off at a relative’s house for a few hours. Sometimes, they’d bring the kids along, letting them play with toys in Minnie’s parlor while they talked in the adjoining kitchen.

           Ella adored all of the children the women had. Ollie and Elsie had four kids ranging from even to eight months. Ruth had a two-year-old daughter who was her entire world. Annie was pregnant with her first, having only just gotten married. Nora was also pregnant but with her third child, already having two young boys. And finally, Lydia, the oldest of the group, took home the prize of most children with six little ones.

           Every opportunity, Ella took to babysit. She missed her nieces and nephews, wishing she could see them again. It wasn’t their fault the family had been torn apart. She’d made note of Charlie’s birthday and had cried when she realized how long it had been since she’d seen him.

           Still, she kept her sanity despite the seemingly irredeemable loss of her family. The relationships with the Camden women and women from work helped. Along with Alfie, they reminded her that she had a choice of who her family was. Last names didn’t matter one bit.

           On Wednesdays, Ella left work early, freshened up at home and headed over to Minnie’s. Sometimes she brought along baked goods she had tried to make. It was usually just to ask Minnie what she’d done wrong because they didn’t quite taste as good as they did when they’d made the same thing together.

           She adored the small, tight-knit group of women and was grateful they had been so welcoming to her. It did help that most of them were wives of men who worked for Alfie. Some women in Camden would hardly look at Ella not because of her lack of religion, but because of her affiliation with the gangster boss.

           They were quite different from the women she’d been raised with. They were modern women in an orthodox community. Their hair was covered because of their marital status, never wore trousers, they attended temple without fail, and were devoted to their husbands. They were the kind of Jewish women that Alfie’s mother probably wanted him to marry. But times were changing and they’d secured some freedoms. Among friends, they were chatty and loved to have a good laugh. They tittered about topics that most men would deem inappropriate for women. Some even had a good deal to say about the current climate. But it was all good fun.

           They especially liked having Ella around. The Shelby girl was extremely interesting to them both because of her different upbringing and her unorthodox relationship with Alfie. The women were careful not to discuss the Shelby family. Ella had been clear that she no longer associated with them and would rather not go into too much detail about the situation. Minnie, the one closest to Ella, knew a bit more than the rest of the group. Ella had confided in her about the actions Tommy took to get her arrested. Also how her family was still facing the death sentence.

           But they did hawk her about Alfie. Most of them had known him for a very long time but only knew him as the gruff, intimidating man who had violent tendencies towards his enemies and questionable morals. None of them ever expected him to find someone to love.

~~~~~~~~~~~`

           “My mother would always steer me away from him.” Ruth wrapped her hands around the warm teacup. “You should’ve seen him before the war, El, just a troublemaker.”  

           Ella smiled and tried to imagine her Alfie as a young man. Clean-shaven, thin, always scuffed up from a fight or arrest. “Why am I not even surprised?” It was sound. Men like Alfie always got their start on the streets. All of the Shelby children did. The Italians did as well. The rejected bits of society. The bottom of the pyramid, the people the elite snubbed and continued kicking to the dirt. Most took their fate with stride. Others refused to accept it. A poor Jewish boy, a poor Irish Traveler, poor Italian immigrants. They simply kept getting up, dusting themselves off, and raising more and more hell. Louder and louder until they were impossible to ignore.

           “Such a little hellraiser.” Nora agreed. “The police all knew him by first and last name. They knew his mother’s name too.”

           “Do you remember when he came back from France?” Minnie set down a plate stacked with treats.

           “Sure, he came back the same day David did,” Nora answered. “Saw him at the train station. Something different about him, but they all changed when they were over there.” She shrugged.

           Ella nodded, her eyes glancing down at the tea in front of her. She hadn’t noticed how she was absent-mindedly stirring the tea for much longer than needed. “He never even dated anyone?” She wondered. Alfie hadn’t gone into detail about his past relationships. Neither of them had decided it was important enough to discuss. They didn’t realize that neither of them had ever held a serious relationship.

           The women chuckled in response. “There isn’t much dating here,” Elsie explained. “Usually your parents make the arrangement.”

           “Oh…” Ella tilted her head to the side. “That’s usually how gypsy clans do it too.” She admitted and thought about what Alfie had said a while back. About how her brother was ready to offer her up to another family. Maybe one of the Lees or the Youngs.

           “He’s had his good share of fine women from France.” Annie hid her smile into her teacup.

           The women laughed and Ella looked amused. The comment didn’t faze her. “Oh, I’m sure. We’ve had the discussion about our purity. Or lack thereof.”

           They all shared a sly look. “And I’m sure he’s given you the spiel that sex before marriage is never explicitly forbidden in the Torah.” Annie giggled and nudged Ella’s arm.

           Her face turned red. “Well, no he didn’t mention that specifically. Just said it wasn’t really proper.” She shrugged meekly.

           “Alfie does what he likes.” Minnie sighed and shook her head. “He always has, but you’d have to be blind to miss the way he looks at you. Didn’t think he had that sort of affection for anyone.”

           It warmed Ella’s heart to think about the subtle smile he tried to hide whenever he looked her way. Minnie was right; it was damn near impossible to miss the softening of his features, the way his muscles slightly relaxed, and the fondness written in his eyes. “He is much more than his reputation. We’ve had our ups and downs…but he is a good man.” She smiled sheepishly. “I ought to think he likes me if he’s stuck around this long.”

           Ruth chuckled. “Are you mad? He’s crazy for you. Surprised he hasn’t swept you off to get married.”

           Ella tapped her heel against the leg of her chair and clicked her tongue. “Well, since I’m not Jewish…I dunno.” It was so easy to forget the clear lines of division between her and the rest of the Camden community. When they welcomed her with open arms, she could disregard their differences. But something would always pop back up to remind her. “We haven’t spoken about it since I’ve moved here.” She purposefully left out the part when Tommy tried to barter her hand for loyalty.

           Minnie rolled her eyes. “Again, the man does what he likes, love. He’s not exactly what I would call a traditional man.”

           “He’ll probably bribe Rabbi Halberg.” Lydia joked.

           They shared a laugh but Ella shook her head. “No, no, I wouldn’t want to disrespect anyone. We’ll just have to make do I suppose.”

           “His brother married a catholic girl,” Annie recalled. “Before he and Alfie went to fight in France. Actually…no, did Joseph fight in France?”

           Ruth frowned as she searched her memory. “He enlisted far sooner than Alfie did, even before the war started. He was older. I believe he was shipped further East.”

           “Perhaps. Well anyway,” Annie waved off the minor detail. “He met a nurse and married her just months after they met. Don’t believe they had much of a ceremony, just went to the court to have the marriage licensed.”

           “Oh, but what’s the fun in that?” Nora frowned. “I want to dress her up!”

           Ella laughed but cringed a little. It was a nice fantasy, dressed in white, walking down the aisle with flowers and the whole shebang. But it just didn’t seem plausible. Maybe she lost the desire when they argued about it after Tommy’s proposition. Their relationship wasn’t standard so they wouldn’t follow standard procedures. “I don’t think Alfie would want a large ceremony anyway. Besides, I never saw myself as marriage material. Minnie knows, I’m shit at cooking and I’m messier than Alfie and Cyril combined.”

           “He doesn’t want a housewife. Just a wild Shelby girl to call his own.” Nora assured her. “He’ll just want to put a massive rock on your finger and brag about you. He loves you and men in love are very foolish. They’ll act like circus clowns, flipping over backward for your affection. And when they’ve got it, they’ll do everything they can to keep you happy. Not to mention he’ll want to show off a beauty like yourself.”

           The women agreed and teased Ella over her face turning bright pink. “Like Ollie. Elsie, tell her the story.” Ruth prompted.

           Elsie grinned and shook her head. “Talk about a fool. When we met for the first time he was so nervous. I thought he was going to faint!”

           “And your father was afraid he’d made the wrong choice!”

          The women continued on, telling Ella about the first time they'd met their husbands. She smiled and laughed along with them but in the back of her mind, she wondered about what the future held for her and Alfie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Monday evening, Ella was walking home from work. Alfie wasn’t fond of the arrangement. He offered to have a car pick her up to and from work, but she brushed off his concern. She had to remind him that she’d been walking city streets on her own for a very long time, both Birmingham and London. Safe to say, she won that battle and enjoyed the walk to and from work.    

           It was nearing dusk and it was a mild night out. She was getting close to Camden Town, only a few blocks away from the flat she now called home. It was quiet out, only a few other people making the commute home as well.

           “Miss Shelby!” An unfamiliar voice from behind called her name.        

           Ella paused and turned.

           A man in a nondescript, heavy black coat and derby hat approached her. She didn’t recognize him from anywhere. Not as one of Alfie’s men or a Blinder. If Tommy were having her followed, then they wouldn’t outright address her.

           “Pardon, do I know you?” She kept her guard up, her hand subtly tucking into her coat where her small handgun was kept.

           “We haven’t met before.” He pulled out a badge to show her. “Inspector Ian Blackwell of Scotland Yard.” He introduced himself.

           “Uh-huh.” It didn’t matter whether he was actually from the Yard or pretending to be. Either way, she was wary. “Can I help you with something?”

           “I’m sure you can.” His smile was unnerving. Strangely arrogant and yet secretive. “You’re the younger sister of Arthur, Thomas, and John Shelby? The niece of Mrs. Polly Gray?” He asked.

           “I’ve no ties with my family anymore.” She replied frigidly and kept her distance from him. “I haven’t spoken to any of them in months.”

           “I’m sure you haven’t. All of them were in jail, save for Thomas.” Inspector Blackwell tucked his badge away.

           The corner of Ella’s mouth twitched as she tried to keep her surprise under wraps. “So they’ve been released?”

           “You didn’t know?”

           She wasn’t fooled. That was a tried and true Shelby response to an interrogation. Answer questions with more questions. “If they’re not in prison anymore, Inspector, then why are you so curious about them?”

           He chuckled and stepped towards her. “What about a Mr. Alfie Solomons? What do you know about him?”

           Ella leaned away from him, trying to keep her distance without stepping back. She didn’t want him to know she was uneasy in his presence. “That name is unfamiliar to me.”

           “Really?” An amused glint passed over his face. “Shouldn’t you know the name of the man you’ve been living with for months?”

           “This conversation is over, Mr. Blackwell.” She hissed and went to turn away from him.

           Before she could reach for her pistol, the much bigger man snatched her by the arm. He wrenched her towards him and tilted his head down to whisper in her ear. “I don’t like people like you, Miss Shelby. Think you’re above the law because you’re fucking a gangster. If you make this difficult for me, rest assured I’ll make you pay. Or, you can comply and I’ll spare you.”

           “Or I can shoot you square between the eyes.” She replied in a cold voice. Her blue eyes glared back at him, refusing to show him any fear. “Do you know what’ll happen after that?”

           His jaw clenched but he didn’t respond.

           “I’ll let you know.” Her eyes narrowed. “I shoot you, spray your brains all over the street, leave you to bleed out like the pig you are. No one calls the police. Instead, four men arrive after I’ve gone. Jewish men. Very honorable men. They pick you up and bring you to a bakery down the street. They cut you into pieces, remove your teeth, burn off your fingertips, and pack you up into sacks. Around midnight, they take those sacks to the cut. Weigh them down with bricks. Come morning, there isn’t a trace of you. One could argue you never even existed. Your little friends can come here and ask what happened, but no one will know. You were never here. They’ve never heard of you. Then like that you’ve disappeared.”

           “You bitch…”

           “Thing is, Mr. Blackwell, it doesn’t matter who I’m fucking. Doesn’t matter who my family is. At the end of the day, I’m just as dangerous as they are.”

           “You and your dirty gypsy kin will hang.” The inspector snarled and tightened his grip on her arm.

           “We control the ropes, inspector. We decide who hangs.”

           “Miss Shelby?” One of the young men who worked for Alfie, Ben, was walking down the street. He paused when he saw the woman being accosted by the much taller man. “What’s going on?”

           The inspector loosened his grip and Ella took the opportunity to rip away from him. “This is Scotland Yard business, none of your concern.” He snapped.

           “You’re in Camden, anything ‘round here is Alfie Solomons’s business.” Ben reached a hand towards the gun tucked in his belt. “So I suggest you move along and leave Miss Shelby alone.”

           Blackwell narrowed his eyes but took a step back to show he was surrendering, even for just a moment. “Was only asking her a few questions, I'm well within my rights.”

           Ella moved to stand closer to Ben. “Will you walk me home?” She asked him quietly. Her eyes didn’t move from the detective, making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements.

           “Of course.” Ben nodded and gave the inspector one last glance.

           “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Miss Shelby,” Blackwell said with a hint of malicious glee in his voice. Despite her threats, he gave her a smug smirk before turning to walk away.

           “C’mon, let’s get you to the bakery.” Ben touched her arm to guide her in the opposite direction. “Alfie’ll want to hear what happened right away.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

           Alfie was very interested in what the inspector had to say. But he flew into quite a fit before Ella had the chance to give him specifics. Once he heard that Ella had been stopped by someone from Scotland Yard, he dished out orders. Several men were set out to see if they could track down the inspector and others swept out to see if there were any other cops that were unfamiliar to the area.

           “If you find that fucker, you bring him back here so I can deal with him properly,” Alfie demanded before slamming the office door behind him.

           Ella was curled up in his leather chair, concern etched into her face. “Alfie, I didn’t mean to cause all this stir.” She said quietly. "I'm afraid I might've riled him up a little. He wasn't the only one tossing 'round threats." She admitted.

           “No, no.” He shook his head and rounded the desk. “’Nough of that, love. None of this is your fault.” He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “Did he hurt you at all?”

           She shook her head. “No. He grabbed me but it’s nothing.” Her hand subconsciously rubbed the bruised area on her arm. “He knew about us…knew about my family. Alfie, they’ve been released from prison.”

           His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Must’ve been recent, haven’t heard anything ‘bout that.”

           “Things won’t be able to go back to normal.” Her eyes gazed off, blankly staring at the filing cabinets. “I’m glad they’re safe but…what did Tommy do to get them out of prison? Why did he arrange it all to begin with?”

           “S’pose that’s what that inspector is trying to figure out,” Alfie suggested with a slight shrug. His thumb grazed back and forth over the top of her hand, trying to calm them both down.

           “If the Yard’s questioning me then they’re questioning everyone. I bet they can’t even get to Tommy though.” She muttered. Her brother always had a tendency to avoid consequences.

           It was reasonable to assume Scotland Yard wanted to figure out what went wrong. Wanted to know how the members of the Shelby family just simply walked. But Alfie was not willing to let Tommy involve Ella in his mess again. Even if that meant keeping the Yard away from her. “I’ll handle it, love,” Alfie promised her.

           “This isn’t about you. This is Tommy’s doing, he should have to handle it. I’m sick of feeling the aftershocks of his decisions.”

           He clasped her hands in his. “This Blackwell, he mentioned me too, didn’t he?”

           Ella nodded hesitantly.

           “So then it’s ‘bout me. I’ll handle it.” He insisted firmly, holding her gaze. “El, I know that you’ve lost the trust of everyone including me. ‘N maybe I’ll never win it back. The only thing I can do is show that I’ll take care of you. ‘Cause I will. No matter what I’ll take care of you.”

           She leaned forward to hug him. “I wish I could be different for you.” Her voice broke. The fearlessness she’d shown in front of the inspector was beginning to fade. Those days, there was only one person she showed her vulnerability to. And he was holding her close.

           “Love, I don’t want you to be any different than you are right now.” He murmured.

           Ella buried her face in the crook of his neck, refusing to let go. “If I were different, your life would be so much easier.” She argued glumly.

           “If you were different, yeah, then we wouldn’t have fallen in love. Then me life would be fucking miserable, wouldn’t it?” He stroked her hair back and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Love you just the way you are and that ain’t ever going to change.”

           She whimpered a disagreement but was too tired to fight. Instead, she leaned into his arms, letting him take some of the weight from her shoulders. Her eyes closed and she honed in on his breathing.

           “Don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

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[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: The Moonchild

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

I feel like this one was inevitable. As soon as I decided to bust open the doors on literary mediums like books and comics, this guy was always going to loom over me. Well, let’s just bite the bullet and talk about him. 

In the final portion of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Centuries, we are introduced to Oliver Haddo’s ultimate creation… a creation he is incredibly disappointed in. You see, the Antichrist or Moonchild is a whiny, miserable young adult strung out on prescription drugs because he went mad after realizing what he was being manipulated into. He is the subject of derision by all who know him, and is treated like a punching bag by most of the narrative, up to and including God literally telling him he’s a bitch. Our villain here is just a miserable, whiny, kind of misogynistic brat who doesn’t even want to be a villain, and in general is just unpleasant and ineffective save for a school massacre he pulls off.

Oh yeah, and his real name is Harry Potter. Kind of an important detail, that.

Motivation/Goals: So as the antichrist, you’d think Mr. Potter might, you know, maybe want to bring about the end of days and all that. But no! He actually pops pills and isolates himself in Grimmauld Place so that he doesn’t do that! He doesn’t want to be the Antichrist and, really, who would? Most of his screentime is thus spent whining, until he ultimately decides to embrace being the Antichrist because he feels  he has no other choice. We’ll get into all of that in a bit, but honestly, his motivation is extremely weak despite the incredibly graphic setup we’re given to his downward spiral: when he first discovered he was being manipulated by Satanists, he went on a magical school shooting, shown to us in a first-person perspective to emulate the games that were often blamed for real school shootings. We get to see Harry slaughter Ron, Hermione, Snape, Dumbledore, and so on, we get to see what he did to Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts Express, and absolutely none of it is pleasant. 

With setup like that you’d expect maybe a little more intrigue and indecision, maybe some sort of conflict between fate and choice or something beyond Harry sitting around half-naked, high off of antidepressants, being a whiny little bitch, but you might be giving the dude who wrote a porno where the kids from Peter Pan engage in underage incest a bit too much credit. 

Final Fate: So Harry has gone absolutely bonkers and it seems that nothing can possibly stop him; our heroes seem to be written into a corner. So what does Moore do? He has God - who in this universe is Mary Poppins - descend from the heavens and have her say how she protects the imaginations of children and how she just straight up hates Harry. Never mind that Harry is quite literally an abused child who was twisted by the cruel machinations of a body surfing wizard, apparently he’s a child not worth protecting or caring about and is unworthy of sympathy. Anyway, Mary Poppins just turns him into a chalk drawing and that’s the end of that. 

Great writing, Alan Moore, critically acclaimed creator of Watchmen!

Best Scene: Saying Harry here had a ‘best scene’ is seriously pushing it, because literally every moment he’s on the page the comic just beats you over the head with Moore’s biases. I wish I could put the school shooting sequence, because the idea behind it is legitimately intriguing, but the whole sequence is just interwoven with Moore whacking off his hateboner for the series. But on the subject of boners… well, I think there’s only one panel that can truly and adequately sum up this entire character and how much of a miserable failure he is. Those who have followed me for a long time knew this was coming, but for the rest of you, behold - Harry Potter Dick Lightning:

Final Thoughts & Score: Quite frankly, this is the worst thing Alan Moore has ever done.

I’m not even mad as a fan of Harry Potter; Moore was honestly ahead of his time in hating the franchise to this level. The issue I have is that he doesn’t really deconstruct or criticize in any meaningful way, he just is doing edgy “take that” stuff that you’d expect from a chump like Garth Ennis. Like, the concept here is incredibly solid and intriguing - this version of Harry has been groomed from birth by Satanists to become the Antichrist, with all of his adventures fabricated and all of his relationships manufactured to keep him under the illusion he is a hero to mankind. Upon discovering the truth, he snaps, massacres everyone at his school for their role in his manipulations, and went into exile to stave off the apocalypse, although he ultimately and bitterly accepts his role because he feels he was never given a choice… and he wasn’t! He’s an incredibly depressing and miserable deconstruction of the concept of “The Chosen One,” and yet the whole thing falls apart on multiple levels.

The first is that the Harry Potter franchise already deconstructs the concept of “The Chosen One;” the text goes out of its way to point out that Voldemort’s own actions are what is creating a self-fulfilling prophecy by targeting someone with the will and drive to fight back against him. Harry’s not so much chosen by fate so much as forcibly chosen by an evil manipulator… and that’s basically what we have here, but with less substance. Moore doesn’t really comment on anything, instead leading into the second big issue - Harry’s whole role is to be a strawman punching bag villain so that Moore can complain about modern fantasy franchises. Moore seems to view Harry as the epitome of the lazy regurgitation of the same story over and over that modern blockbuster culture so often falls into… except that Harry Potter was an original product developed by one person and had no artificial longevity slapped onto the franchise in the form of unneeded sequels or spinoffs to extend the lifespan of the franchise at the time Moore wrote this. Throw in the fact Moore just in general seems extremely contemptuous of any post-70s pop culture in Centuries and how Harry is ultimately taken down by crusty old characters from older literature really just leads to Moore coming across as a grumpy old man who hates anything new, not helped by his tired criticisms of millennials and their perceived lack of culture. Maybe Moore would have had more of a point if he created this storyline today, but he didn’t. Thus, he has no point and he just looks like a miserable old fart.

Sure, you can argue that maybe Moore’s basic parody of the character by exaggerating his tendencies to their logical extreme and attacking elements of the plot that had been criticized to death by fans to begin with has its place, and perhaps you could even say that the take in the comic is just an extreme take on how Harry acted in the fifth book, what with the lashing out at his friends and his general feeling of a lack of control, and there is some merit to that, or there would be if Moore’s own unrepentant bias didn’t undermine everything. Look, you can hate Harry Potter, but then why slap it into your work? It’s supremely cringey when people insert characters they hate into fanfiction and just completely derail their characters so that they can treat them like garbage with the narrative, and is that not what Moore did here? Is League not just public domain fanfiction? There’s a reason why I coined “Harry Potter Dick Lightning” as a phrase used to showcase a moment where a fanwork’s contempt for a character becomes so extreme that it not only jumps the shark, it rockets over it into the upper atmosphere. Any criticisms or messages Moore is trying to convey is tarnished by his blatant, seething contempt for the character, and that gets in the way of good writing and good storytelling. Having two characters express pity at having to murder an abused child who was warped by Satanists into being a tool of the apocalypse does not make up for how the narrative constantly mocks, belittles, and treats him like garbage to the point he really can’t function as an effective villain that can be taken seriously.

All of this adds up to what I’d argue is the absolute worst villain in all of fiction, bar none. There is just not a single redeeming quality about the Antichrist as a character. None. Nothing. I cannot think of another villain that so completely fails on every single level as this one does. He doesn’t work as an antagonist because most of the bad things he does are offscreen and he doesn’t come into conflict with the heroes until the very end, and most of his screentime features him doing nothing of note. He doesn’t work as a critique, because he is acting as a criticism for things his character never really represented in the first place. He only really functions as the sort of garbage you’d see in My Immortal, where the characters you know and love are turned into evil jerks because the writer hates them - but he even fails at being that, because at least My Immortal is funny about it! 

I am going out on a limb and saying that there cannot possibly be a villain that so utterly fails at everything it sets out to be as hard as Harry does. I don’t even want to try and believe it. And so, without hesitation, I am giving Moore’s shallow Potter parody a 0/10. And I pray to Mary Poppins that this is the only one of those I ever dish out, because I really don’t want to imagine what could possibly be worse than Harry Potter Dick Lightning.

[prairiedust]

Purgatory Revisited Part One

We’re going to Wally World!!!! I’m laughing so hard like going after a leviathan blossom lolololkhfhfdshfkh;aharihfndwhat the ever lovin hell with this show does it come with a ramekin of Blossom Sauce TM?

So back to Purgatory. This is fine.

no it’s not fine asdfh;jkhgifgrhhg so the reason I’m keysmashing is this: I have wanted another “descent into the underworld” plotline (plot, not incidence) since Cas made his deal with the Empty, because that is just a truckload of unfinished business. And I thought that we’d gotten “all” of the underworld allusion in The Rupture and Golden Time, and that the next textual underworld journey we could expect would have something to do with the Empty! (Although it really is starting to feel like that has been dropped completely, esp in light of the Shadow and Billie both waking up Jack and appearing to be allies. Unless that is another “gotcha” waiting to hatch unexpectedly...) So circling back around to Purgatory when there’s other loose ends to tie up is a surprise.

When I think about it, Sam’s underworld journey was allegorically bringing back Eileen, Cas’ would (supposedly) be settling his score with the Shadow, and so Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory would be Dean’s. But Cas is allegedly coming with Dean… this is interesting. Hey look, kids, there’s Big Ben, and there’s Parliament, and there’s Big Ben, and there’s Parliament!

Why am I excited about a “descent into the underworld”? Why, when our heroes jump back and forth between different realms like they’re walking in a park? Why was I not yelling about this when Castiel and Jack jumped into the Hellmouth? (psst it was partly because he was going with someone else, yet here we are.) And how many times have our heroes been dead? I mean, Dean was dead just as recently as Advanced Thanatology! And all three of them just now held onto a magic bowl and were Bedknobs and Broomsticked into Hell in the midseason finale, it wasn’t even that hard??? What’s the big deal and why is Purgatory 2: Return to Purgatory any different than any other trip to one of Spn’s many otherworlds?

This is the first of at least two, and possibly three, and four is not entirely out of the question, hot-mess posts over the course of the hiatus and is just over 4k. I’ve rewritten this so many times and I still don’t know what the point of posting it would be, but here, try to enjoy some rambling about mythology and heroes’ descents into the underworld.

Many mythologies and works of literature have stories about descents into the underworld. The descent of a hero into the underworld is called “katabasis.” Actually almost any descent into the underground in myth and literature is called a katabasis/catabasis, but I’m talking about a typical “hero goes to hell” kind of story. In Greek mythology, Hercules goes to the underworld to complete one of his twelve labors-- as his final task he has to capture Cerberus, the guardian of the gates to the underworld, so down he goes, has some adventures in the netherworld-- and as half-divine, he gets back out-- and then goes back down to give Cerberus back to Hades, and gets back from his second journey okay too. Odin journeys to Hel in order to find out what happened to his son Baldur, who it turns out was in Hel. The Japanese god Izanagi journeys to Yomi, the underworld, to try to get his wife Izanami back (but similar to other legends about otherworlds and underworlds, Izanami has consumed food and can never leave.) In literature, Dante Alighieri wrote one of the alleged masterworks of Western literature about an imaginary descent into Christian Hell in The Inferno, where Dante and Virgil descend into the famous nine circles and he basically spills the tea on most of his contemporaries and passive-aggressively doles out everyone’s just desserts and then witnesses the morningstar’s icy torment, and climbs back out through the center of the Earth and out Mount Purgatory. In Michael Chricton’s Jurassic Park-- just kidding. Ha ha no, I’m not. There’s a powerful catabasis at the end of that book that leads to a revelation about the dinosaurs. Think about how many movies and books there are that feature a descent underground, a descent into a netherworld, or even just a trip to an otherworld. Tom Sawyer. Hellboy. Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. The Empire Strikes Back. The Last Jedi. It’s a powerful tale type. 

So @drsilverfish and I have talked a bit about one of the most famous “descent into the underworld” stories, Orpheus and Eurydice, as it features in season 15. Orpheus and Eurydice were deeply in love-- however, on their wedding day, Eurydice was bitten by a viper and died. Orpheus, the most skilled poet and musician in the world, was unable to go on without her, and played a song so sad that every creature in the cosmos wept with him and eventually he journeyed to Hades’ kingdom in order to plead to Hades for Eurydice’s return. Orpheus sang so compellingly that Persephone, Hades’ part-time wife (herself able to move between these two worlds on a technicality,) was moved to tears and convinced Hades to let Eurydice and Orpheus go. However, Hades has one requirement: Orpheus is NOT to turn around to see Eurydice’s shade until the sunlight touches her. We all know, however, that as soon as the sun touched him he turned around. It was too soon, Eurydice had not crossed into the upper world, and she disappeared back into the underworld forever.

Stories about descents or attempted descents into the underworld often ask us to reflect on the cyclical nature of time, as in the story of Persephone, loss as in the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, the finality and inevitability of death, as in the Epic of Gilgamesh, or themes of vulnerability, justice, and cosmic/karmic balance as feature in both the story of Inanna and the sister-stories of Odysseus and Aeneid. Supernatural has dealt with those themes, as well.

What makes descents into the underworld different from other journey-into-otherworld stories is that usually there is no way out of the land of the dead, and the ability of our hero or heroine to cross that boundary both ways sets them apart as truly exceptional. So there is also an element of liminality to descent stories-- while not necessarily liminal places in and of themselves, there is usually a border, gate, doorway, wall, or membrane of some sort that has to be navigated, and these gates are supposed to only work one way-- into the netherworld. Yet our heroes cross and sometimes re-cross. But we already know that about Sam and Dean and Cas, they’ve died multiple times, came right back, visited Hell, came right back, went to Purgatory, made it back, so what’s my deal?...

Well, getting into this allusion, tne thing that makes the story of Orpheus so unsatisfying is because the contract of the story is not fulfilled, the thing we’re rooting for does not happen-- in many descent into the underworld stories, the hero takes on the journey voluntarily, has an objective, and ascends successfully with that objective or having fulfilled it (this is a tentative thesis afaik, because other stories are considered to be katabasis stories that don’t necessarily fit these requirements. But for Spn, this seems to be what is coming up based on the template from The Rupture, Last Call, and especially Golden Time. And I really wanted to find something to back this up but goddamn is the internet (and even databases like JSTOR) a freaking mess nowadays.) 

Golden Hour was a clear allusion-- almost a retelling-- of the Orpheus and Eurydice story. There was the “descent” into the land of the dead-- Rowena’s hexed apartment-- and then the only living person who could enter it without dying was Sam, marking him as exceptional. Therein he found a spell, authored by someone who has become the queen of the dead, to bring Eileen back to life. While doing the spell, he kept his back to her during her journey back to life-- on the surface level reading, it was (maybe!) because he knew her ghost-clothes wouldn’t come back with her, but on the allegorical level it was because Sam, as Orpheus, passed the test and didn’t look back until he knew that the sun shone on her. When an underworld quest fails, it is often because there is some lesson that the hero has to learn about death and life and grief; the lesson for Orpheus is that of the peril of thresholds, the permanence of loss, and patience-- those are not lessons that Sam necessarily needs to learn.

In the allusion we got to the Orpheus and Eurydice story, we also got a terrible wrong righted-- as it was unjust that Eurydice died on her wedding day and it wasn’t fair that Orpheus didn’t follow the rules, Eileen had been dragged off to Hell when the Hellhound killed her, and by Chuck’s rules could not get into Heaven, and so bringing her back into the “sunlit lands” was a rectification of that injustice. In the myth, when Orpheus loses Eurydice at the end, it’s just so goddamn sad, and is an unfulfilled expectation. Glynn fixed that. 

Golden Time was a beautiful subversion of a famously tragic ending. There are some ways in which subversion of stories are fulfilling-- when Glynn altered and subverted the Orpheus and Eurydice trope, it satisfied a lot of viewers and gave the myth a happier ending. But sometimes, subversion of a story just leaves us wanting…

I thought fleetingly that the Orpheus trope might apply to Cas in the Empty in season 13, but again it didn’t fit well, and ultimately he wasn’t rescued from the Empty like Eurydice from the underworld. Man did I want that, though, I really wanted someone to fight for Cas to get back. What we got was terrific, for a variety of reasons. Cas’ “perma-death” and The Empty plotline was a partial Gilgamesh and Enkidu reference from The Epic of Gilgamesh for Dean’s side of the story, if you squint-- Gilgamesh’s best most perfect companion Enkidu (a wild man who was literally made by the gods specifically to be his partner in adventure, which has interesting connotations for deancas subtext in light of how heavy a hand Chuck has had in the Winchesters’ lives) dies, and Gilgamesh prays to the gods to allow him to join Enkidu in the afterlife. In season 13 we get Dean praying for Castiel’s return, as opposed to an underworld reunion, but God does not grant his prayer; Dean then actually kills himself in Advanced Thanatology but is sent back by Billie. This is a bit like the Gilgamesh and Enkidu story, but ultimately the allusion was subverted in that Castiel gets to fight his own way back to the sunlit world-- he becomes a partial underworld hero in his own right, which was a fantastic arc for him (this trip to the Empty doesn’t completely “fit the bill” because Castiel was killed, he didn’t mean to go there, and he did not necessarily have an objective, although he discovered his will to return to the sunlit lands.) There was further obfuscation because Mary was missing in the AU at the same time, so it wasn’t “pure.”

Another reason why Gilgamesh and Enkidu only worked to a certain extent was because on Castiel’s side, his “journey to the underworld” can be likened more to that of Inanna, the widely worshipped Mesopotamian goddess. Inanna desired to visit her sister Erishkegal, who was queen of the dead, but her sister was not happy to see her, and made Inanna remove an article of clothing at each of the seven gates of the underworld until she was naked (and symbolically humbled,) but nonetheless Inanna dared to sit on her sister’s throne; the seven judges of the afterlife saw this and killed her for it. Her devoted servant Ninshubur in the upper realm prayed to Enki, Inanna’s father, who created two beings who could rescue her from the underworld and bring her back to life-- however, Inanna is hounded after this by the demons of the underworld because the cosmos is unbalanced by her rescue, and someone must take her place in the underworld. Themes from this, if not a well-fitting allusion, at least crop up in both Cas’ meeting with the Empty Shadow, who humbles him over the course of their interlocution and then bizarrely gives him new clothes, hello subverted motif, while they are in a necropolis of sorts where Castiel’s brothers and sisters lay sleeping, and in the way in which Inanna can be conceptualized as a “sleeping beauty” while a corpse in the underworld, much like Cas had to be awakened from an eternal slumber, and then later on we see the theme of cosmic imbalance needing to be restored in the deal he makes with the Shadow to trade his life for Jack’s in Byzantium, which is still a swinging pendulum of doom.

I side-eyed Cas’ and Belphegor’s free-fall into Hell, but they were journeying together, and there are not a lot of mythological katabases (that I could find) that feature two or more journeyers. When you get into the realm of literature-- and we are dealing with the concept of the “written word” there are too many to deal with-- it’s almost everyone’s favorite trope, you can even argue that there is an underworld episode in Sean of the Dead-- so I’m keeping the focus narrow.

I’m also basing all of this on the pattern we’ve seen in-universe. We can see that Sam and Eileen have been heavily paralleled to Dean and Castiel in Our Father-- where Sam and Eileen have long and soulful conversations with just their eyes, Dean and Cas can hardly look at each other, and where Sam and Eileen have held hands, there was a big glowy gap between Dean’s hand and Cas’ when Cas healed Dean. So taking Sam’s underworld adventure (that he made with Eileen) as a template for Dean’s (who is going with Castiel) is fair. But, then again, the next episode is called The Trap....

Going back to what I’ve said about each “hero” in TFW getting a katabasis, setting Purgatory 2 aside as “Dean’s” descent story satisfies most of the criteria for a full-blown Descent into the Underworld: 

On Dean’s part, finding out that Chuck has been yanking them around their whole lives has robbed him of his worldview as an epic hero-- if nothing he’s ever done is real, the only thing that set him apart as exceptional was Chuck’s obsession with him, which has been called “pervy.” Pervy has a sexual connotation, true, but in the purest sense means turned away from the natural course. Dean’s descents into the underworld have not been “natural,” they have not always followed the outline of “voluntary descent, attainment of objective, and ascent out of the underworld.”  They’ve been engineered. His first encounter with the underworld almost-but-not-quite fits the catabasis requirements-- it was done only reluctantly (yes, he made the crossroads deal but in the end he very much did not want to go;) he digs his way out of the grave, which is a very powerful “ascent” image, but he also had no goal in the underworld; he was not going to receive enlightenment, visit an old pal, or retrieve an item or person or whatever. In fact, he experienced possibly his most catastrophic failure there by breaking, torturing damned souls, and starting the first Apocalypse. His second descent, into Purgatory, was also involuntary, as he was yanked into it by the vacuum created when he and Castiel ganked Dick, recognized an objective only once he was in Purgatory; in contrast to his rescue from Hell he does fight his way out of this underworld and achieves “anabasis,” or heroic ascent into the upper world, but the other two criteria were not met. After Metatron killed him, he became a demon, an underworld being, and so was not a “hero” if and when he visited Hell (and all signs indicate he spent his demon days topside iirc.) In Advanced Thanatology, he undertakes a voluntary journey into death order to stop the evil ghost in the haunted house, but ends up in Death’s Library, which is an otherworld or at least only underworld-adjacent, and he is sent back up by Billie possibly against his wishes, hence no heroic ascent, even though this does deal with the themes of cosmic balance and righting injustices (sending the trapped souls to their true afterlife, for instance, and stopping the implosion of the universe, for another.)

Finding out that some or all of the “big” events of his life were actually orchestrated by Chuck has stolen Dean’s identity. Last Call went a good way to restoring his faith in himself, but he definitely has reconceptualized Dean Winchester as someone who “looks after the little guys,” not a hero involved in epic stories of good and evil and right and wrong where the fate of the world is on the line. Which is fine, but we need our epic hero back in order to defeat Chuck. Purgatory 2, should it prove to not be another one of Chuck’s plots, will go far as an underworld descent that Dean undertakes more-or-less voluntarily, which has an objective (retrieve the Leviathan Blossom,) and it is presumed he will return under his own steam back through Michael’s Gate. (We know it will not be that easy, but that’s the template.)

We assume he’s not going alone. Catabasis usually involves a separation/individuation of some sort. In the story of Inanna, she leaves behind her companion Ninshubur, who waits in the upper realm for three days before mounting a rescue. In the stories of Odysseus and Aeneas, they leave their crew and their new city respectively, and after going to the underworld they each meet different shades who also have differing values to bring to the theme of separation. Gilgamesh and Enkidu are separated by death and deliberately kept apart by the gods. Izanagi seeks a reunion with his wife. In Orpheus and Eurydice, well, separation is the overarching theme of the story. So, other underworld stories that we might see referenced this time are the twin journeys of Odysseus and Aeneas, since we have two characters going to Purgatory. Odysseus goes to Hades’ realm, and encounters three shades, (one of whom is a fallen comrade, echoes of Benny LaFitte) and receives prophecy about what he would be in for during the rest of his travels. In the Roman sister-story (fanfic rewrite) to the Odyssey, the Aeneid, Aeneas also visits the underworld with the sybil, meets some ghosts, and receives prophecy about the future of Rome. (And BY THE WAY who in this show just appeared in an underworld and believes in prophecy and just told Dean and Cas to fix their “tiff” right before they were sent to Purgatory...) 

In Purgatory 1, separation was also a big deal, as Cas wanders off to have adventures in the woods while Dean and his underworld companion search for him, and then Cas ultimately decides to stay, making his separation from Dean almost permanent. In each of the Winchester’s deaths, we have separation of brothers. In a tiny little in-universe reference, the Winchesters found the Seal of Solomon, or the key to the AU, in an episode that featured lovers/mates separated by a rift, that had a tiny little “descent into the underworld” shot of Dean going into the RI Chapterhouse.

But interestingly, we *just* got a subverted Orpheus and Eurydice story, where all three bells were rung, and wherein in the “lovers” were allowed to remain together. Additionally, in Our Father Who Aren’t in Heaven we see two entities-- Adam and Michael-- remain together after ascending from the underworld, although both are now free to go about their separate ways, which is very different from what we were expecting. BUT in the main arc, Dean and Sam have just been separated by Chuck’s trap. It’s all very... interesting.

So now I have to decide. Do I see Dean and Cas’ journey to Purgatory as a descent into the underworld, or as the retelling of an in-universe myth? Or as both? Or will it be something completely novel? That partly depends on how Purgatory works in the upcoming half of the season, and I’ll be talking about Purgatory as a possible liminal setting in another post. Right now it’s not necessarily shaping up to be one, but there are hints...

Since there is a strong possibility that this will be a retelling of old Supernatural story, much like Last Call can be seen as a retelling of Nihilism, the idea of retelling and revising stories is an even larger theme this season than last-- an “anabasis,” or rising emphasis, so much so that it has in part become text. We can say, maybe, that Purgatory 1 and all of it’s baggage is now myth, and hope that what we’re getting is “new story.” If we get Purgatory 2 as a retelling of that myth, though, we might hope for new character development or a different outcome, the way Last Call retold the story of Nihilism with different themes and devices.

My last thought about descent stories is that, well, there are more than a few that feature romantic partners. These stories almost always involve those three criteria and the theme of separation that I set up as expectations: the lovers are separated by death or abduction, the mission is undertaken voluntarily-- the hero is going to find their lover in the afterlife-- there is an objective-- find the dead person!-- and there is a successful ascent-- at least by the hero-- to the upper world. I already mentioned the stories of Izanagi and Orpheus, both of which feature lovers separated by death, a journey to the underworld in hopes of reuniting with them, and a “successful” return to the sunlit lands (in that our heroes themselves return, at least.) The Shasta people of the Pacific Northwest have a story of a pair of woodpeckers; the wife falls into their fire and dies, so her husband chases her spirit into the afterlife (where she is incarnated as a human being) and to join her he has to go back to his abode and die himself in order to be reborn also as a human. Ninshubur may have been described at times as one of Inanna’s lovers, and to a modern reader the subtext is definitely there, as it is between Gilgamesh and Enkidu. That’s not to say there are a majority of underworld stories that are romantic, because I can’t possibly read them all, but it is a notable trend, and one almost explicitly evoked in-show. I’ve tried to stay away from deancas subtext lately because I personally am not an endgame-positive viewer, but is there something romantic about Dean and Castiel going to the underworld together? There certainly seemed to be in Purgatory 1: Journey Through Purgatory. P2 following so quickly after what Sam and Eileen undertook together, it’s almost like it was foreshadowed. The deancas subtext at this point in the season isn’t “oh there was a beer sign in the background” (although that’s some of my favorite kind of subtext ngl) it’s now “Sam and Eileen have been giving each other soulful looks and holding hands while Dean and Cas won’t even look at each other and see how they almost held hands but didn’t” and so it isn’t hard to reach. It has been accessible for a while now. But are we still in a place where textually Sam is getting the “romantic” plotline and Dean is getting the “platonic” one, a la season 8? The mirroring is too perfect, and the writing room was even playing on the word “mirror” by adding the connotation of “opposite.”. I will say that If subtext is all that can be written about a deancas narrative in season 15, well, to paraphrase Dean Winchester they sure are putting as much sub into that text as they can.

So going through the midseason hiatus, I will be thinking a lot about “old” Purgatory, underworlds, borderlands, and otherlands, liminal settings and liminal experiences, the peril of the threshold (besides the infamous “letting go” scene from Purgatory 1, the gateway will only exist for twelve hours!) and who knows what else. This has gotten long enough. On to liminality! I think. No, maybe I’ll do old Purgatory first. Anyway I’m cutting this off here.

Hallelujah, holy shit, where’s the tylenol?

(I’m linking to the Shasta myth because it’s a little hard to find and I want to be able to come back to it, as it has given me some ideas about resurrection/reincarnation and becoming human….

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shasta_traditional_narratives got me to:

Voegelin, E. (1947). Three Shasta Myths, including "Orpheus". The Journal of American Folklore, 60(235), 52-58.)

[critic-corner]

13 Contemporary Rom-Com Novels That You’ll (Probably) Love

Even though this is a mainly fashion and film blog, I do like to consider this a platform where I get to share my thoughts and opinions on anything of interest properly and well, reading is a big passion of mine. Even though I do talk about it on Instagram a little but, for whatever reason I don't on this blog.

Many of my reader friends ask me for recommendations, so I took this as an opportunity to create some book-related lists even though it's a little hard to do that because lists are never-ending. Anyway, I'll try. Also, don’t worry it’s not gonna turn into a book blog, it’ll just be a small segment of my entire blog.

You can click on the book title to get your own copy!

One Day In December

Laurie is pretty sure love at first sight doesn't exist anywhere but the movies. But then, through a misted-up bus window one snowy December day, she sees a man who she knows instantly is the one. Their eyes meet, there's a moment of pure magic... and then her bus drives away. Certain they're fated to find each other again, Laurie spends a year scanning every bus stop and cafe in London for him. But she doesn't find him, not when it matters anyway. Instead they "reunite" at a Christmas party, when her best friend Sarah giddily introduces her new boyfriend to Laurie. It's Jack, the man from the bus. It would be. What follows for Laurie, Sarah and Jack is ten years of friendship, heartbreak, missed opportunities, roads not taken, and destinies reconsidered.

I have never understood the love at first sight trope but because this story travels for ten years where the characters get to know each other intimately, it worked out perfectly. My favorite part about the book was how you will see these characters grow and make important life decisions. By the end, I was so emotionally invested that I was sad when the book ended.

This is definitely one of my favorite contemporary novels. I have been recommending to all of my friends, even the ones that don’t read that often. If you are a rom-com fan, get this book because it’ll simply warm your heart.

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

The Royal We

American Rebecca Porter was never one for fairy tales. Her twin sister, Lacey, has always been the romantic who fantasized about glamour and fame. Yet it's Bex who seeks adventure at Oxford and finds herself living down the hall from Prince Nicholas, Great Britain's future king. And when Bex can't resist falling for Nick, the person behind the prince, it propels her into a world she did not expect to inhabit, under a spotlight she is not prepared to face. Dating Nick immerses Bex in ritzy society, dazzling ski trips, and dinners at Kensington Palace with him and his charming, troublesome brother, Freddie. But the relationship also comes with unimaginable baggage: hysterical tabloids, Nick's sparkling and far more suitable ex-girlfriends, and a royal family whose private life is much thornier and more tragic than anyone on the outside knows. The pressures are almost too much to bear, as Bex struggles to reconcile the man she loves with the monarch he's fated to become. Now, on the eve of the wedding of the century, Bex is faced with whether everything she's sacrificed for love-her career, her home, her family, maybe even herself-will have been for nothing.

If you know me, you’d know that I’m a royal family nerd. So, when I came to know about this book last year, I was all over it because it seemed like a perfect escape. And while I was expecting it to be all cheesy, I was surprised by how realistic it seemed. Yes, it has been heavily influenced by the Kate-William romance, but that only added to the thrill of it. If you want a nice royal romance which also seems relatable, this is definitely the way to go!

You can get your copy on Amazon.

This Love Story Will Self-Destruct

Meet Eve. She’s a dreamer, a feeler, a careening well of sensitivities who can’t quite keep her feet on the ground, or steer clear of trouble. She’s a laugher, a crier, a quirky and quick-witted bleeding-heart-worrier. Meet Ben. He’s an engineer, an expert at leveling floors who likes order, structure, and straight lines. He doesn’t opine, he doesn’t ruminate, he doesn’t simmer until he boils over. So naturally, when the two first cross paths, sparks don’t exactly fly. But then they meet again. And again. And then, finally, they find themselves with a deep yet fragile connection that will change the course of their relationship—possibly forever.

This book was been marketed as When Harry Met Sally reimagined and I couldn’t disagree more. Apart from the fact that the two characters meet time and again, there isn’t much else relating this story with the movie and that’s not a bad thing. I just don’t want you guys to shocked like I was. Rom-coms have a fluffy, carefree vibe to them and technically, it has those aspects, but there is an underlying sadness to the story because of the female character (with whom I surprisingly found myself relating with, by the way).

I am that person who prefers character-driven stories over plot-driven ones and while this book doesn’t really fall in either of those categories, I fell in love with the two main leads. It’s been months since I read this book and they still casually pop up in my head every now and then, and I constantly find myself talking about them like they are real people. If you are a fan of emotionally-driven romantic novels, you might like this one.

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

Unmarriageable

In this one-of-a-kind retelling of Pride and Prejudice set in modern-day Pakistan, Alys Binat has sworn never to marry—until an encounter with one Mr. Darsee at a wedding makes her reconsider.

One thing to always keep in mind before reading a retelling is that you cannot expect it to be amazing. At most, it can be great. I’m saying this because the ghost of the original and the eventual comparison will always be lingering over the book which will definitely hinder the reading experience. So, just go into it expecting a nice time, and not hoping to find your all-time favorite (if you do, then obviously that’s great).

Coming to Unmarriageable, the original premise of Pride & Prejudice fits perfectly on a Pakistani back-drop, or just any desi family. And while I was expecting to fall in love with the romance, I ended up enjoying the social commentary that Soniah Kamal did and that was probably because of how similar Indian people are. All in all, it was not the best Pride & Prejudice re-tellings (I think I’m yet to find that), but I sure as hell had a fun time reading it.

You can get your copy on Amazon.

Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely Fine

No one’s ever told Eleanor that life should be better than fine. Meet Eleanor Oliphant: She struggles with appropriate social skills and tends to say exactly what she’s thinking. Nothing is missing in her carefully timetabled life of avoiding social interactions, where weekends are punctuated by frozen pizza, vodka, and phone chats with Mummy. But everything changes when Eleanor meets Raymond, the bumbling and deeply unhygienic IT guy from her office. When she and Raymond together save Sammy, an elderly gentleman who has fallen on the sidewalk, the three become the kinds of friends who rescue one another from the lives of isolation they have each been living. And it is Raymond’s big heart that will ultimately help Eleanor find the way to repair her own profoundly damaged one.

This is one contemporary novel that has managed to step out that genre and successfully enter the literary talks. I have been hearing about this book for over a year and absolutely fell in love with it. If you are not the best in social situations and have a hard time navigating through them, you might like it very much. The story is told entirely through her point of view so it was very interesting to see this lonely person find her way to life (albeit unknowingly). What surprised me was just how funny the novel was. This can easily become one of your favorites!

Also, I have to appreciate the cover designer of this novel. There are two covers and both of them are genuinely so amazing!

You can get your copy on Amazon.

Always Never Yours

17-year-old Megan Harper is about due for her next sweeping romance. It's inevitable—each of her relationships starts with the perfect guy and ends with him falling in love... with someone else. But instead of feeling sorry for herself, Megan focuses on pursuing her next fling, directing theater, and fulfilling her dream college's acting requirement in the smallest role possible. So when she’s cast as Juliet (yes, that Juliet) in her high school’s production, it’s a complete nightmare. Megan’s not an actress, and she’s used to being upstaged—both in and out of the theater. Then she meets Owen Okita, an aspiring playwright inspired by Rosaline from Shakespeare's R+J. A character who, like Megan, knows a thing or two about short-lived relationships. Megan agrees to help Owen with his play in exchange for help catching the eye of a sexy stagehand/potential new boyfriend. Yet Megan finds herself growing closer to Owen, and wonders if he could be the Romeo she never expected.

I was going into the novel fully expecting it to be cheesy or even cringey and got out surprisingly loving it’s realistic portrayal of human emotions. My favorite part was the female character and her straight-forward way of thinking, even though it sometimes prevented her from becoming vulnerable. If you are a Shakespeare nerd, I guarantee that you’ll have a ball reading this one.

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

The Sun Is Also A Star

Natasha: I’m a girl who believes in science and facts. Not fate. Not destiny. Or dreams that will never come true. I’m definitely not the kind of girl who meets a cute boy on a crowded New York City street and falls in love with him. Not when my family is twelve hours away from being deported to Jamaica. Falling in love with him won’t be my story. Daniel: I’ve always been the good son, the good student, living up to my parents’ high expectations. Never the poet. Or the dreamer. But when I see her, I forget about all that. Something about Natasha makes me think that fate has something much more extraordinary in store—for both of us. The Universe: Every moment in our lives has brought us to this single moment. A million futures lie before us. Which one will come true?

Another book that I expected to dislike but surprisingly didn’t. I hate insta-love stories, but weirdly enough this one seemed convincing to me. The characters were likable and do keep in mind that the demographic the novel was trying to reach was young adult and it worked perfectly for that in my opinion. One particularly great thing about the writing-style is the fantastic use of different POVs (point-of-view). If you've ever wondered about the life of those strangers that you only meet for 10 minutes or cross on the street, then I think you’ll particularly enjoy this one.

You can get your copy on Amazon.

My Oxford Year

Set amidst the breathtaking beauty of Oxford, this sparkling debut novel tells the unforgettable story about a determined young woman eager to make her mark in the world and the handsome man who introduces her to an incredible love that will irrevocably alter her future—perfect for fans of JoJo Moyes and Nicholas Sparks.

I went into this book expecting just another rom-com, my bad. I should have paid more attention to the fact that they mentioned Nicholas Sparks on the back cover and you should too because otherwise the second half will completely take you by surprise. This book has all the elements of a giddy romance - Oxford, with it’s Harry Potter-esque interiors, English poetry and amazing fleshed out characters. It will also (probably) break your heart, so keep the tissues close by.

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating

Hazel Camille Bradford knows she’s a lot to take—and frankly, most men aren’t up to the challenge. If her army of pets and thrill for the absurd don’t send them running, her lack of filter means she’ll say exactly the wrong thing in a delicate moment. Their loss. She’s a good soul in search of honest fun. Josh Im has known Hazel since college, where her zany playfulness proved completely incompatible with his mellow restraint. From the first night they met—when she gracelessly threw up on his shoes—to when she sent him an unintelligible email while in a post-surgical haze, Josh has always thought of Hazel more as a spectacle than a peer. But now, ten years later, after a cheating girlfriend has turned his life upside down, going out with Hazel is a breath of fresh air. Not that Josh and Hazel date. At least, not each other. Because setting each other up on progressively terrible double blind dates means there’s nothing between them...right?

This is my second Christina Lauren novel and well, I had a ball reading it just as you’re supposed to with any of their novels. This one, in particular, stands out because not only is it well written but the characters felt oddly realistic. The first chapter did feel like the book will probably filled with all kinds of tropes because the female character is so fashionably eccentric but thankfully, non of that happened. It’ll make for an amazing weekend read!

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

Vision In White

Childhood friends Mackensie, Parker, Laurel and Emmaline have formed a very successful wedding planning business together but, despite helping thousands of happy couples to organise the biggest day of their lives, all four women are unlucky in love. Photographer Mackensie Elliot has suffered a tough childhood and has a bad relationship with her mother, which makes her wary of commitment. But when she meets Carter Maguire, she can't stop herself falling for him, although his ex-girlfriend is prepared to play dirty to keep him. Mackensie soon realizes she has to put her past demons to rest in order to find lasting love...

This is first of the four in the Bride Quartet series and while I would literally suggest all four of them, just give this one a try first. There are a lot of things I like about this book, the main being the sisterhood that is majorly present in the entire series. Secondly, even though the female character has a dysfunctional family that leads her to being kinda sorta commitment-phobic, I like the relationship showcased is so healthy. Normally, in romantic books, there’s a lot of miscommunication to drive the plot ahead but this book works a nice example of how to showcase a healthy couple even if one of them (or both of them) are fighting internal battles. It’s a perfect cozy read!

You can get your copy on Amazon - paperback or kindle.

Practice Makes Perfect

Payton Kendall and J.D. Jameson are lawyers who know the meaning of objection. A feminist to the bone, Payton has fought hard to succeed in a profession dominated by men. Born wealthy, privileged, and cocky, J.D. has fought hard to ignore her. Face-to-face, they're perfectly civil. They have to be. For eight years they have kept a safe distance and tolerated each other as coworkers for one reason: to make partner at the firm. But all bets are off when they're asked to join forces on a major case. Though apprehensive at first, they begin to appreciate each other's dedication to the law— and the sparks between them quickly turn into attraction. But the increasingly hot connection does not last long when they discover that only one of them will be named partner. Now it's an all-out war. And the battle between the sexes is bound to make these lawyers hot under the collar...

This is one of the best workplace romances that I have come across and would highly recommend to everyone interested in that genre. It is a little cliche but it’s not trope-heavy which is definitely a plus. It has the right amount of heat and character development that a good fluffy contemporary demands. It’s just nice, fun ride!

You can get your copy on Amazon.

By The Book

An English professor struggling for tenure discovers that her ex-fiancé has just become the president of her college—and her new boss—in this whip-smart modern retelling of Jane Austen’s classic Persuasion.

If you couldn’t tell by now, I’m a sucker for Jane Austen re-tellings and unlike Unmarriageable, I really liked this one a lot. As I mentioned above, you can’t have your expectations with re-tellings high, but even if you expect some genuinely nice exploration of relationships (like Austen used to do, among other things), but in a modern setting then I think you will really like it. The fact that it’s completely from the female character’s point of view, makes the writing a lot more intimate. Give it a read, you may like it.

You can get your copy on Amazon.

The Upside of Unrequited

Seventeen-year-old Molly Peskin-Suso knows all about unrequited love—she’s lived through it twenty-six times. She crushes hard and crushes often, but always in secret. Because no matter how many times her twin sister, Cassie, tells her to woman up, Molly can’t stomach the idea of rejection. So she’s careful. Fat girls always have to be careful. Then a cute new girl enters Cassie’s orbit, and for the first time ever, Molly’s cynical twin is a lovesick mess. Meanwhile, Molly’s totally not dying of loneliness—except for the part where she is. Luckily, Cassie’s new girlfriend comes with a cute hipster-boy sidekick. Will is funny and flirtatious and just might be perfect crush material. Maybe more than crush material. And if Molly can win him over, she’ll get her first kiss and she’ll get her twin back. There’s only one problem: Molly’s coworker Reid. He’s an awkward Tolkien superfan with a season pass to the Ren Faire, and there’s absolutely no way Molly could fall for him. Right?

Even though personally, I wasn’t the biggest fan of the book because I just didn’t find it engaging enough, I do know that a lot of you out there might love. Not only does it have wonderful LGBTQ+ representation, but there aren’t a lot of book written about introverted young girls who love romance but have zero first-hand experience with it. I liked that it was fairly realistic and the characters were fleshed out. I’d say give it a try, you never know, may find yourself in Molly.

You can get your copy on Amazon.

[echodrops]

Do you think any of the villains in bnha will or want them to get a redemption arc?

If I had to take a guess, I think we could possibly see some stuff like this:

1) Spinner: If he doesn’t get killed by the villains in a disagreement over ideals, he’ll probably be fine by the end of the story. He’s already protected Midoriya once, and he might be the only one of the League who doesn’t want to just destroy heroes entirely–he does want to create a better world, even though his ideals are obviously a bit mixed up. Of the League members most likely to jump ship to the good guys’ side, my bet would be on Spinner. I wonder if it could get to the point that he disagrees with Shigaraki’s methods enough to try to sell out the League… Dangerous game… If he doesn’t get a redemption arc, I would expect him to still end up respecting Midoriya and Midoriya’s way of viewing the world by the end. 7/10 redemption potential.

2) Toga and Twice: Not eligible for redemption, courtesy of having severe mental illnesses that will prevent them from successfully functioning in BNHA’s hero society. Perhaps in a world full of quirks there is one capable of curing mental illness severe enough to make Toga a serial killer, but it seems unlikely that she would ever be safe for the public at large; Twice would always struggle with functioning in “normal” society. However, unlike Spinner, I feel like these two are at least safe–they’re less likely than others to up and die in the course of the story. I would expect, if either of them die, it would be in one of two ways: 1) Accidentally killed by a hero in combat; 2) Dies protecting another member of the League. However, if I had to guess, my thought is that it’s more likely these two end up in custody permanently, possibly getting the help they needed and deserved from the very start. It would be nice to get an “afterward” that shows them both happy and getting better. 0/10 redemption potential, 9/10 quirky hospital post-credit hijinks potential.

3) Dabi: Most likely to die dramatically. I said this elsewhere, but if Dabi’s quirk works the way most of us suspect (i.e. he’s not immune to it), then the more he uses it, the greater the risk. As the battles between the heroes and the League amp up, the threat to Dabi’s body from his own flames will almost inevitably rise, which could potentially lead to a situation in which even if he wins a meaningful battle–he may still ultimately lose by pushing himself beyond the breaking point. A tragic “Sorry, but not even you can save me, Shouto” death scene could be incoming, or an “eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind” Aesop. Horikoshi might be sipping a little too much of that Naruto juice here. As the villain with the highest on-screen kill count, and the one most poised to do damage to already-beloved-fan-favorite Hawks, Dabi is technically the least likely member of the League to get a redemption arc. Not impossible, but he’s got a higher mountain to climb. 4/10 redemption potential (+5 if we get a couple really traumatic childhood flashbacks though).

4) Mr. Compress: Why is this guy even a villain? Who hurt you, Mr. Compress??? Since we know nothing about his backstory, this one could go either way. However, the fact that he’s chillin’ with the villains when it’s implied he once had a reasonable career leads me to believe that he chose the path of villainy of his own free will. He’s a sane villain, which generally makes him more evil than those who become villains because they can’t fit in with “normal” society. That, coupled with the fact that he is down to kidnap children, cause multiple-fatality car accidents, and kill heroes makes me doubt this dude is really headed for redemption–then again, who’d want him to anyway? Magic man is infinitely cooler as a villain. 5/10 redemption potential.

5) Shigaraki Tomura: The person with the highest amount of redemption potential, but the one who deserves it the least (and is the least likely to want it anyway). By virtue of being related to Nana and being set up as Midoriya’s foil, as well as the readers already getting sympathetic flashbacks to his obviously traumatic past AND because we can all see that All For One groomed him to become what he is today, Tomura’s in the prime position to be punched with the redemption fist, but that could just be a red herring. I think we all, deep down, WANT Shigaraki to make it out of this story in one piece, happier, and more fulfilled in life, so I think the expectation for redemption is high… All the easier for Horikoshi to rip out our hearts by putting redemption well within Shigaraki’s reach… and then have him brutally and gleefully reject it to choose evil entirely of his own agency. Tomura’s manipulation at All For One’s hands relieves him of some of the responsibility for his actions throughout the story thus far, but as a person, Tomura hasn’t done much of anything worth getting a redemption arc yet–he delights in violence, may be manipulating his comrades like All For One did to profit off their abilities, and he clearly enjoys being the baddest bitch in town. Is he likely to get a redemption arc? Yes. Does he want it? No. 10/10 redemption potential. 10/10 potential to kill the person offering him redemption.

[unclefungusthegoat]

Far Cry 5 Theory: Joseph Knowingly Manipulated His Family To Represent the Four Horsemen... And Knew That They Would Die For It

Hi all! This is LONG- 1977 words plus pictures, but I hope it’s worth the read! This is just my opinion! Also, I would just like to say now that I love Joseph, and I’m sorry.

Watching back the eulogies Joseph delivers after his sibling’s deaths has left me wondering…

How did Joseph know that their deaths were the seals being opened?

Because I can’t get the notion out of my head, that if Joseph indeed engineered the ‘Collapse’, as is one theory, or even if he simply had heard that it was coming, then surely he had an opportunity to orchestrate all of the symbolism that surrounded it?

For example, grooming himself and his siblings to represent the Four Horsemen?

In the Book of Joseph, he writes:

“The Voice did not show me exactly how it would all end.”

And, interestingly:

“I hope the Voice condemned each person to the ending he or she fears most, to know that it would take back what it had given without pity in a final multi-pronged curse. It was inspired by the cruelty of mankind, we who kill, lie, and steal what others hold most sacred. No one is innocent. Each person will experience the end they dread.

Joseph was never told that this event would take the form of the Horsemen from the Book of Revelation, but that is how it comes to pass.

Surely if Joseph believed that God gave him a revelation, then he would turn to the scripture named for such a prophecy to make sense of it? The scripture he would remember his Father ranting about when he was a child?

And he then made a conscious choice for that to be the narrative?

And I believe that he manipulated his siblings into fulfilling the roles of the Horsemen, knowing that it would eventually lead to their deaths, because this was the end he dreaded most.

JOSEPH - CONQUEST

Joseph took the role of Conquest- to conquer those who want to be saved. Conquest is sometimes interpreted as Christ himself, and it’s very likely that Joseph, the ignored middle child, forsaken by the world, would want to be seen as a Christ-like figure- noticed, listened to, worshipped, loved.

He craved what every cult leader desires.

Power over the weak, over people like Jacob, John and Faith.

I do not think he sought Jacob and John with the intention of making them his Horseman, but came to the decision upon the discovery of John’s career and subsequently, Jacob’s military file.

It was a coincidence that John, the lawyer, could be represented by Scales, of Famine or Justice. And Jacob with the Sword of War. But Joseph would see this as proof that his brothers were a vital part of God’s plan- and must then truly be the Horsemen.

It all fit the narrative he chose to believe.

And so he set out to shape his siblings into those roles.

The Herald’s symbols, that correspond with those of the Horsemen, are built  into the Project’s architecture, meaning that they have been part of the cult’s symbolism since long before the game’s events.

Surely Joseph must have asked them to adopt those symbols?

And then he used their assigned Horsemen not only as inspiration for their jobs within the Project, but also for how to manipulate them into performing those roles.

JACOB - WAR

Joseph took advantage of Jacob’s trauma he suffered during WAR, to shape him into the Red Horse.

Jacob knew of Joseph’s role for him and I think he’d known for a very long time- since being reunited with his brothers.

He talks to the Deputy directly in game of how his purpose is to act as Joseph’s sacrifice. He knows exactly how it will end for him, and his words- ‘you did everything he said you would’- just confirms this. Joseph has told him that the Lamb will open the seven seals.

Jacob was a hollow shell of who he once was in the homeless shelter. It was Joseph who nursed him back to health, feeding his broken mind with his propaganda, with the Horseman narrative. It can only be assumed that he convinced Jacob that his death, as well as John’s, would be necessary to wage war on a world of evil, manipulating Jacob’s mindset from the military that sacrifices must be made. Why else would Jacob allow Joseph to manipulate their youngest brother?

The weak ‘have their purpose’. So what if, after everything they went through, the Seeds think of themselves as weak, and their purpose is as Horsemen, as sacrifices to bring about Eden, where the strong will live on?

Jacob is the least religious of the brothers and so whether he truly believes himself a ‘Horseman’ is questionable. He simply views himself as a brother doing his duty, supporting Joseph in this new war against the corrupted world.

And if that means death, so be it.

JOHN - FAMINE

Joseph took advantage of John’s need for love- he starved him of it, created John’s own personal FAMINE, so that John would pursue the path that Joseph laid out for him- becoming the Black Horse.

Joseph directly warns John of his own impending death. There is no indication of when the voicemail was left, but I believe that it’s an old message from before the Reaping, and it was Joseph trying to prevent John from being killed at the incorrect moment. If he antagonised the Fall’s End residents too much, Joseph knows that they would take him out.

He cannot let that happen.

The Lamb must be the one to kill John.

But Joseph warns him of his death again at the river, when he tells John that the Deputy must atone - that the Lamb must stop opening the seals - or the gates will be shut to him. In other words, he must stop the Collapse or he will die. He knows John will not be able to achieve this, but insisting that John continue to interact with the Deputy, promising love and reward if they atone, just ensures that John will die by their hand.

However John, despite his obvious intelligence, seems unaware that he will not live to see Eden. His confident bravado, his triumphant swaggering, his fear of failing Joseph- this is not the behaviour of a man who knows he is doomed.

As he dies, he tells the Deputy that ‘We had a plan’. He says that everyone is ‘already safe’, no doubt including himself in that. Joseph, after all, had already saved him once. Why wouldn’t he save him again?

John is a coward, a man who never gets his hands dirty unless he can fully control the situation. A man so used to speaking empty words, that he probably promised to follow Joseph ‘unto death’ without truly considering what that meant, without believing that he would actually ask that of him. And Joseph could not be sure that John would see it through if he knew the truth. So instead he promises John what he is starved of, love, knowing that he will pursue it to his death.

FAITH - DEATH

Joseph threatened DEATH to Faith if she did not become the Pale Horse- the same fate that had befallen the first Faiths.

Why does the Project need a Faith? In the Book of Joseph, he never actually justifies why the “role” exists. The general feeling is that she is used by Joseph to replace his wife, or his daughter. But, here’s the thing:

Joseph says that the Voice asked him to recruit John and Jacob. But then he goes on to conscientiously seek out a Faith. To me, this reads as Joseph making a definitive decision to begin putting everything in place for his Collapse to be initiated-

By preparing a fourth Horseman.

Rachel presents two versions of her story and she tells them both as the truth.

The Faith who she speaks of first - the ‘saved’ Faith - believes she has been given a ‘purpose’, a new chance at life. She ‘no longer wished to die’. If Rachel knew of her newly found purpose as Horseman and sacrifice from the beginning, then this is contradictory. She would not have willingly agreed to the role if she knew it would end in death.

So I feel both of her stories are true. That she felt ‘saved’ when she joined the cult but was ultimately threatened into becoming Faith.

And I think Rachel only discovered her role as Horseman when it was too late for her to escape. She may have learned from messages left by the previous Faiths, those who had already been killed for refusing to be the Pale Horse. She may have only realised during the game’s events.

But she says to the Deputy ‘It was always going to end this way’. She knew it was an inevitability. And saying those words is a confirmation to herself that Joseph had always intended her to die for his vision.

SO WHY?

I believe that Joseph loves his brothers.

But he believes so fiercely in the Voice that he murdered his own daughter to prove his loyalty. It is not a stretch of the imagination that he would sacrifice his siblings too. They are tools by which God’s word will come to pass. They are his ultimate test of faith.

And yes, he cries over their deaths. But he never truly does anything to prevent them from being harmed. He encourages them to provoke and convert the Deputy, knowing that it is futile, since the dream of reaching Eden relies on those seals being opened.

Including the Fifth seal.

If his Collapse and his new Eden were to come to pass, then the Fifth seal must be broken.

He expected his brothers to swear loyalty unto death to him. He asked the same of Faith, when he made her take the leap.

The Fifth seal is of martyrs before the altar, ‘the souls of them that were slain for the word of God’.

The most faithful.

Who else would he have imagined these martyrs to be?

THE EULOGIES

Joseph may knowingly have sent his siblings to their deaths, but I don’t think he did so without emotion. Just look at the eulogies:

Just like so much of what John says in game, Joseph, in John’s eulogy, could be projecting his own sins onto the Deputy:

‘He was easily preyed upon… those responsible for his death will be punished’- Joseph could be acknowledging his own manipulation of John and pledging his intent to atone for that sin.

Greg Bryk has said that Joseph has empathy:

‘...he was a weapon without a purpose. A warrior without a legacy.... You are his legacy. All of you willing to protect our family from the Collapse�� Jacob’s death will not be in vain.’ - Joseph acknowledges Jacob’s purpose to protect (by being a sacrifice), and that he gave him this purpose. Did he believe that an act of mercy, giving Jacob what he truly desired- peace in death?

And for Faith:

‘I put my faith inside her and she became angelic’ - Joseph is admitting to putting his ideology in her head, and that he views her as otherworldly, holy, made that way by his own hand.

SUMMARY

Joseph wanted to see the Day of Judgement incinerate the world that treated him so badly and what better way to enact his revenge than to literally become the Horseman who unleash horrors upon the earth?

But he doesn’t consider himself perfect. The eulogies prove it. He knows he is not innocent and will face judgement from God, along with the rest of mankind.

And so the loss of his brothers? 

They were the price he CHOSE to believe he must pay, the price the Voice demanded of him so that he, always overlooked, ignored, forsaken, may become a God in his new Eden.

Just as he wrote in his sacred book:

“Humanity is incredibly imaginative when it comes to self-destruction”.

And their deaths were, as he had foretold would come to all sinners:

The end that he dreaded most.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

Thirteen-One, part 4

Pale as a corpse, she shambled up the path.

The same path that Chris had wandered upon the day before. Long, winding, lined by trees, the road blurred through tears of confusion and agony, and Amy had trouble seeing where this path was leading her. The narrow road featured no sidewalks, though the occasional street lamp shed a warm orange glow upon the weathered asphalt’s surface. Beyond those cones of light, the surrounding forest’s darkness swallowed everything like a black hole.

A dog barked in the distance, coming closer, causing Amy to stumble and walk on at a faster pace. She had trouble moving and did not know why. Most likely exhaustion. But it also felt like her body was not obeying her. Her body was indeed not obeying her, because she wanted to turn around and go back down this road, return to the heart of the town, return to the deceptive safety of her home, and get away from wherever this path was leading her. But her body refused to follow suit.

One foot after the other, sometimes dragging over the rough ground, her legs carried her ever onward. Everything hurt. Especially her arm, where the biker had hit her with his baseball bat. The place she had been hit throbbed on and on; a constant reminder of the psychopaths that had hounded her this night.

Finally, she stopped. But not because her legs had finally decided to do what she wanted, but because they had arrived. She stood in front of a lonesome house in the woods. Its large gravel-covered parking lot stood empty, bereft of any cars. A strong gust of wind tousled her mess of hair and made her jacket flutter, causing her to shiver and reminding her that she could not stand here forever.

The front door of the house stood wide open, swaying in the gusts of wind that followed. A source of light within the entrance behind that door kept moving back and forth—much like a hanging lamp that kept on swinging.

Her legs continued moving and carried her to that door. The crunch of gravel underneath her shoes was not as satisfying as it should have been. It sounded more like teeth being ground up with a mortar and pestle and it sent shivers down her spine. She wanted to turn and run, but her legs insisted on delivering her into this house.

Once she arrived by the porch outside the front entrance, a violent gust of wind slammed the door shut in front of her, mere moments before she could steal a glimpse of the house’s inside. What should have scared Amy did not. It was much like all of this was to be expected—or like she had experienced this all before. What felt wrong and scary also seemed right and inevitable—like she had witnessed it all before. Like it had already been written in stone.

A twisted sense of curiosity fulfilled her, blending with the naked fear that crippled her control over her own body. She knew that the dread should have paralyzed her, and that something was utterly wrong. Not just with her, but with everything here. Like listening to someone telling a story—and getting all the details all wrong.

Her legs took her up the final steps of the porch to the front door. Her footsteps thumped against the infinitely deep hollow and darkness lurking underneath the wooden planks of the porch. Her hand acted in accord with her legs, disobeying her every wish, and it reached out to grip the doorknob and open the entrance door once more.

Inside, just beyond that open door, laid corpses. Blood, entrails, and other unidentifiable organs—obscured by layers of gore—had been scattered all about the room. The hanging light swinging back and forth made it impossible to discern every grisly detail. Her gaze wandered to and fro, almost avoiding wherever the light shone upon the scene of carnage.

The wind blew the door shut again—the slamming sound froze Amy’s blood in her very veins. Something crouched in the corner of the room, obscured by the light swinging one way and draping it in shadows, but also outlined whenever the lamp swung the other way, shedding just enough light to recognize shapes.

Something vaguely humanoid, but with a gangly frame and limbs that looked too long to be natural. Covered in a slick of blood and pooling darkness, Amy struggled to discern its features any better. But it stared at her through tiny white-glowing eyes, captivating all her attention. A dead, vacant stare. It pierced her like someone looking straight down into your soul, and the set of bright white eyes burnt like two tiny suns.

The way it crouched—clinging to its own shins and hunched over with its head tucked between its knees—made it almost look vulnerable, although deep down, Amy sensed that it was at least partially responsible for the scenery of carnage that she found herself now trapped in. The way it stared at her and she stared back at it was filled with an evil so pure that it could make angels weep.

Awash with a strange pity, she wanted nothing more than to approach the strange thing and embrace it, but her body refused to further deliver her into the arms of danger. Whatever this presence was, it had been vomited out by the jaws of hell, and it looked like it was ready to drag anybody else back down there with it.

It barely moved, and while Amy struggled to identify the creature’s features, it emitted a deep, rumbling growl, like a wild animal warning another to back off.

Just before she could really say what its skin must have looked or felt like underneath all that blood and bile that covered it, it jolted up. Risen to full height, it stood tall, three heads taller than her. Her heart was about to explode from the fear that clamped down on it. And Amy woke up.

Covered in a sheen of sweat, she stumbled back out of bed. Only after minutes of staring into the bathroom mirror did she fully regain her senses. Only after moments of her head spinning as if she had just awoken from a brutal bender did it dawn on her that she had dreamt all of this.

Well, not all of it, that is. Her arm was swollen and black and blue from where the biker had hit her with the bat. She cringed when she carefully touched the spot, finding it still stung to do so. Her other hand was still wrapped up, with a deep dark spot on the otherwise stark white bandages where an injury had bled through.

And she was pale as a corpse. Just as pale as she had been in this most recent nightmare.

She leaned underneath the faucet and drank greedily from the water that shot out of it, also splashing her face in the process. In her mind, it was getting harder and harder to discern what was merely a bad dream and what was part of the nightmare that her reality was rapidly becoming.

When she was in the kitchen, making herself some coffee at five in the morning and feeling like she had been run over by a truck, her phone began to vibrate violently on the counter. Just before she could get to it to see who the caller was, it ended abruptly. She picked up the phone and thumbed through it, finding out the number had been suppressed—another unknown caller. She briefly considered getting a new number.

Then she spotted movement through the milky glass window on her front door. She switched the lights off so she could better see the silhouette outside. Someone was there, lurking, doing something. Messing with her mailbox?

She crept through her house and dared not breathe loudly enough for anybody to hear a single sound she made. The figure peeled away from her home’s entrance and vanished onto the streets.

Amy impatiently waited a minute. And then another. Wanting to see if the visitor had left anything behind, but not wanting to create an opening for a home invasion. Her heart pounded like a huge drum, thundering and screaming out for her to just breathe.

When she opened the front door, she expected to find another nondescript disc resting on her doormat. But there was nothing there. She allowed herself to continue breathing normally once she spotted a paper delivery boy in this morning twilight, stuffing some papers into the next mailbox across the road.

She snatched the local paper and locked the front door behind her as she returned to her cup of coffee in the kitchen. Having had no intent on reading it, spotting the front page headline made her body lock up once more, drawing her entire attention to it. With a trembling hand, she managed to set the coffee cup down without dropping it.

Amy unfolded the paper so she could see the front page in its entirety.

The lead article spoke of multiple murders that had happened in this very town two nights ago, discovered just yesterday. They had been slain in a forest home belonging to the family of one of them. The police were still following up on potential leads, and suggested that people stayed at home by night as well as report anything suspicious.

A quote stood out to Amy. In all the wrong ways. “I can’t believe such a horrible thing could happen in a town like this. They had no enemies, they were nice to everybody. Maybe they had a friend from the city who had their own enemies,” a certain “Seth W.” had said to the reporter.

Amy swore up a storm as she grabbed her phone and selected Adam out of her contact list. She spoke out loud to an Adam who could not hear her, urging him to pick up while the call rang out, interspersed with Amy uttering occasional profanities.

He finally took the call, immediately asking a confused, “Huh? What?” From the sound of its tired drawl, he had clearly been sleeping or gotten high.

“You still at Seth’s place?”

“Uh, well. I guess you could say I’m ‘house-sitting’ in his dive, yeah. Though I’m not sure he even knows I’m he—”

“Sure. Okay. Adam, I need you to wrack your pea-sized brain for me right now. If Seth’s been gone for days, where would I find him?”

“I don’t know, he’s usually the creepy sort to find you. Why do you—”

“Just answer the damn question.”

Judging by the pause and noises that followed, Adam lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it.

“I guess you could check out ‘The Pit’,” he finally said.

“The hell is that?”

“Uh, it’s this weird kinda club house that opened up a year ago, replacing the Velvet Tango bar after it closed up shop.”

“Cool, thanks. See ya.”

Amy hung up, oblivious of Adam telling her to wait from the other end of the now terminated call.

Without caring much about appearances and dressed in her same garb from the day before—which now carried the stink of fear and her sweat after the deadly chase from the night before—without any makeup and concealing her eyes with some shades, she arrived outside “The Pit”, less than an hour after having talked to Adam on the phone.

The original Velvet Tango sign had been taken down and replaced by a different one that looked more like it had been spray-painted on. The whole exterior of the building had been given a makeover to look a lot more “street” and a little bit edgier than it should have if they really wanted to attract customers outside of some fringe circles in this dumpy little town. The windows were darkened with sloppy applications of black spray paint, and some Halloween decorations from last year still lingered, bleached by the sun and weathered by this region’s frequent rainy seasons.

Amy tucked the sunglasses into her leather jacket’s pocket and wanted to push inside. The front door was locked, though. She sighed in frustration and gave it another futile push. When someone stepped up to the front door, barely visible through a small gap in the black paint upon its windows, she nearly jumped out of her own skin and dodged back a few steps.

Someone unlocked the door and held it open. Some guy dressed entirely in black, with a silver chain with a pentagram-shaped pendant hanging from his neck. Long, dark hair framed his slender, pale face. The black lipstick and a piercing in his lower lip stood out to Amy and drew her attention for far too long.

“Lookin’ for someone?”

Amy swallowed. Nodded. Simply said, “Seth.”

The doorman showed no reaction, but she could have sworn she saw the gears turning behind his forehead.

“I will take you to him,” he replied, finally breaking the long silence between them.

He allowed her inside and guided her through a maze of rooms and corridors and Amy struggled to remember how this even remotely fit in with how she remembered the Velvet Tango’s layout to be. Some of the rooms were dimly lit with candles, one of them had some people sitting in it in a circle on the floor, holding hands, like they were participating in some sort of poor man’s seance. Neon lights in the back hallway flickered, damaged.

This place was definitely not up to code and looked far too morbid for a regular club house where regular people would party. Amy suddenly felt that terrible sense of dread creep back up on her, robbing her of her breath and making her pulse go wild all over again. She wondered if she could find the way back out on her own. How far she could get if someone were to chase her through here. She looked over her shoulder more and more, hoping to mentally map out her escape route. Most of all, she was beginning to feel light-headed and dizzy.

She could not help but think one single thing: she had come to the wrong place.

Her guide came to a stop and bowed like an old-timey butler, pointing with a sweeping gesture to his side and directing her into a room. Inside that room, three men sat at a round table, illuminated only by a low-hanging light. The one in their middle was Seth himself.

All three of them glowered at Amy. Without breaking eye contact with her, Seth nodded, and the other two men stood up on command, as if they were robots. They walked past Amy, staring daggers at her. She swallowed and pressed herself against the door frame to give them some room, every fiber in her body ready to run now. The whole club house was so quiet that she could hear someone whispering on the other end of it, then perceiving someone else’s cough in a different room.

“Come. Sit,” said Seth. Gravelly, smoky. Imperious.

The doorman who had guided her here had left as well. She looked back at Seth, whose gaze burned with the intensity of hellfire.

She had to get to the bottom of this, after all. So she approached the table, and took a seat across from him. At least there was ample space in between them like this.

Amy mustered every bit of courage she had left in her bones, and asked, “Seth?”

He leaned back in his simple chair. The wood groaned underneath his shifting weight.

“Maybe. Yes. Of course. But perhaps I am someone else.”

Amy’s eyes narrowed, immediately annoyed at the bizarre response, though not enough to overshadow her ever-growing dread of him and this place she was now stranded in.

“To be completely honest, I don’t know why the hell I’m here, now,” she admitted.

Seth folded his hands in front of him, resting them on the table between an ashtray, a half-consumed beer bottle, and a steel lighter. His next words oozed out with a steely confidence that she had never known of him when he asked, “Are you lying?”

Amy hugged herself tightly and countered, “Why would I be lying?”

“You may have had a reason to come here.”

“Maybe I forgot it.”

“Maybe I may not hear it?”

Amy stifled a groan at the stupidly cryptic direction the conversation was taking and snapped back at him, “Maybe.”

An uncomfortable silence draped over them. So quiet, in fact, that she could hear the watch on Seth’s wrist ticking its seconds away.

He asked, “Have you forgotten everything? Have we not brought the past back to you enough?”

Amy fidgeted in her seat. This chair of old make was even, cold, and hard, and its lack of upholstery made it hurt to sit on for prolonged time, even after such a short period as she had been seated on it.

“What past?”

Seth’s hands unfolded. Resting his palms flat on the table, he leaned forward. His tone before had made him sound more like a creepy cult leader. This vanished in the next instant as his eyes went wide, and he now spoke in a more desperate tone, “Our past. Our shared past. Thirteen-One, Amy. Amy, you must remember.”

None of this made any sense. Back in the day, Seth had never babbled this incoherently. It was like he was a different person altogether. Maybe he had simply lost his damned mind.

“I—I don’t know—I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Seth’s brow furled in a sudden burst of anger. He quietly seethed, stewing in a silent fury. Then he slammed his fists down onto the table, causing all the objects upon it to jump an inch off and clatter back down, as well as causing Amy to jump, startled in her own seat.

He shouted, “Remember!”

The legs of Amy’s chair screeched as she pushed herself back, a few inches away from the table. The mask of rage on Seth’s face transformed into a calmer expression. An unsettling tight-lipped smile that spread from ear to ear.

“You really do not understand what I’m talking about,” he said.

He opened his jacket and produced a small jewel case from it, containing another nondescript disc. His chair’s legs screeched as well, caused as he got up and placed the disc onto the table, pushing it forward. He slid it across the table with such single-minded deliberation and blind carelessness that he knocked over the beer bottle, from which brown-foaming liquid began to gutter out. The motion also made the ashtray slide off the table’s edge, hitting the dark concrete floor and getting its glass smashed into smithereens.

None of these things perturbed Seth. His gaze was locked onto Amy’s. She was too afraid to do anything. Afterwards, she would not be able to explain why she took the disc. Morbid curiosity could be the only explanation. She grabbed the object without breaking eye contact.

Seth began to laugh. What first began as warm and welcoming laughter changed pitch and quickly turned insane—underlined with a dark, sadistic glee. It did not even sound like Seth anymore, at least not the Seth she had once known all those years ago.

Amy got up and stumbled away from Seth. She had to get out.

Now.

The world spun around her, as if she had downed dozens of those beer bottles herself, even though she had only had three coffees since getting up this morning. Her legs wobbled more with each step, giving away. The entirety of existence around her had turned into a rocking ship at high sea, swaying back and forth. She braced herself against a wall as she finally peeled her gaze off of Seth and stumbled out into the corridors.

The dusky rooms and hallways of The Pit did not help one bit. She staggered along, her fear taking the upper hand in her struggle to escape. Amy had to keep bracing herself against walls, crashing into them as she fled at the pace of a drunken zombie. Whenever she dared to look back over her shoulder, she could see Seth following her, his crazed laughter never ending. Whenever he caught his breath for a split second, he would only laugh louder, harder.

Amy tripped over something—a skull? No. Seth caught up to her and pushed her, sending her reeling and almost crashing down onto the floor. She caught herself on a doorknob and continued to shamble along, hoping she was headed the right way. Sick to her stomach, the world continued to spin around her, much like in a regular drunken haze.

“Yes. Just run, woman. Run. Run. Run!”

Curious eyes of other people stared at Amy as they stepped out of her way, allowing her to fumble and stumble on her way out. At the same time, they all stood tall, garbed in black like the doorman and Seth—towering, dark figures, all looking down at her.

This was no chase of life and death. But Amy needed to escape. She needed to silence that horrid laughter that Seth was emitting like a broken record. He would not stop.

Amy lurched through the front door and stood on wobbly legs in the bright daylight outside. She blinked as her eyes adjusted, but the world continued to spin around her.

Seth followed no longer, stopping just within the shadow’s reach behind the entrance. She could make out his silhouette, his shoulders heaving with incessant laughter.

The daylight helped somehow. Although everything appeared blurrier and fuzzier than it should, the spinning slowed down and her stumbling turned into fast walking. One last glance over her shoulder revealed Seth to still be standing there. His laughter died down into a guttural cackle.

The door slammed shut in front of him. Not like he had closed it, but as if it had closed itself.

The door’s slam resembled an ominous thunderclap that split the heavens. The laughter died with it.

And Amy fled.

—Submitted by Wratts

[forsakenoathkeeper]

Chapter 13: Mortal Reminder

Shuu Sakamaki x Sora Yasutake

* Please be warned about potential adult content, including violence, gore, foul language, abuse, sexual content, and mature themes. Due to the nature of this series, all chapters will be rated for mature content *

~ About Sora ~ Fanfiction Master List ~ First Chapter ~ Chapter 12 ► (more coming soon) ~ Special thank you to everyone who is reading my OC story. ♥ It means a lot to me and I really appreciate the support.

Shuu wasn't a fan of this bedroom. Aside from the obvious reason - that everything was pink or white and bright and the furniture was of horrible taste - it was also an empty and heartless place. This was the temporary home of all the brides that had been sent to them. Reiji was good at making sure it was spotless, and free of any evidence that it had been previously lived in, before a new bride arrived.

He didn't care about those girls, don't be mistaken. But, there was something unsettling about this room. Perhaps, it was the remnants of their existence that pecked at him when he was in here. He wasn't scared of ghosts, feeble spirits that thought they could cause torment. But, he didn't enjoy the unease of their lingering, like some of his brothers did.

It was, perhaps, the only thing their kind shared in common: dead vampires, too, on occasion, liked to linger. View things were more obnoxious than a ghost that believed its pitiful life was worthy enough to continue existing in the afterlife. Of course, none would dare disturb him.

When Shuu pushed the door and invited himself inside, he found the room to be what he expected: it smelt like the girl, was a little stuffy, but otherwise ordinary. She had unpacked more since the last time he was in here, and had somewhat rearranged a few things.

Her school uniform was washed and ironed, hung up by a hanger that was dangling out in the open, up on a hook near her dresser. She had left her science book open on her desk, on the page where she last been reading. Various notebooks were lined up on the desk, propped up between two makeshift book ends - likely some decorations she had snatched from the study on the other side of the mansion: they were hideous, clearly things that wouldn’t be missed and of Reiji’s poor taste. Her pajamas were laid out on the bed, atop the sheets, which was somewhat made. Her hairbrush was even sitting on the edge of her desk.

Shuu was a bit amused by it. Most of their sacrifices kept this room perfectly organized and clean, at least that he could recall. Then again, this girl wasn’t from the church, was she? A non-Christian, so to speak. That seemed to explain her tastes, then.

At a glance, he could see the spines of her notebooks propped up on the desk. They were colored ones: red, blue, purple, green, orange and pink. He didn't know if there existed any difference between those ones; however, Shuu did know that she was especially protective over the black one - because of course she would choose that color for such devious things.

The black one... which wasn't on the desk.

Had she hidden it? She would do something so stupid, wouldn't she? How annoying... He definitely didn't want to have to actually look for it. But, Shuu stepped further into the room, leaving the door open behind him without much care to getting caught. In fact, it would probably be amusing if she caught him in here. He could demand she supply him with what he wanted and mock her for it... maybe she would disobey him.

It didn't take his keen eyes long to find it. The black notebook was tucked into the small space between the bed frame and the wall. How silly. Was she honestly worried about someone finding it? Shuu leaned down and scooped it up with deft fingers and was out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

He contemplated briefly on where to spend the remainder of his night. Outside was a thought, but he didn’t usually like to go out there unless he had recently fed, when his body was warmed and satiated. He was cold, somewhat; so, for now, he would stay inside.

Shuu settled for the library on the other side of the mansion. It was massive, with an upstairs and downstairs section. Reiji wasn't in there tonight, leaving the room quiet and not stinking to high hell. Shuu enjoyed the large window on the upper level. It was curved at the top and indented into the wall with a seating. It was the perfect size for him to lounge on and prop his feet on the end cushion, inevitably leaving behind an indent that Reiji would bitch about later.

Perfect.

"Should I have said no to Yuma...?” Sora thought to herself as she set the wet dishes on the drying rack. She pulled the plug to let the soapy water drain. As she dried her hands, she leaned her back against the counter and dwelled heavily on it all.

Yuma’s offer... if she could even call it that... had caught her off guard. Perhaps, however, her refusal was even more surprising. It wasn’t particularly frightening, but felt... wrong. To feel such a way over the thought of another vampire indulging in her... Had she truly grown attached to Shuu? Perhaps, that was just how vampires were. “Marked” and, now, she would only ever belong to Shuu. Was that real? Or was he saying that to make her feel bad?

“...tch.” Sora set the damp towel on the edge of the counter and walked away, leaving the dishes to dry on the rack and suds in the bottom of the sink. She wasn’t thinking about what Reiji would likely to say to her, but that she needed to lay down. She needed a distraction.

Upstairs, the door to Sora’s room was open, but she didn’t immediately consider that strange. She closed the door behind herself and immediately flopped on the bed, leaving her shoed feet dangling off the edge. With the door having been left open, it was a little colder in here than usual, but she didn’t immediately move to wrap herself up in the blankets.

“Would things really be different...?” she thought to herself. She had not once considered Yuma as a way out. She didn’t look to him with eyes that pleaded for help. Maybe because he was a vampire, too. Maybe because some part of her doubted he really could save her. This situation was... her burden.

Then again... Out of worry over her own situation, Sora had briefly forgotten about what Yuma had requested of her. He wanted her to help him remember-... Remember what it was he had forgotten about Shuu? The more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. What could she possibly do that he couldn’t? She could outright ask Shuu - no... no... she definitely couldn’t do that.

Shuu and Yuma were both vampires, but there was something subtly different about Yuma. She couldn’t really explain it. Maybe it wasn’t really there at all, and she was just imaging things. Maybe it was just the way he carried himself that gave her this impression. But, whatever it was...

“It’s like something out of a-...” Sora mumbled to herself, finishing her sentence mentally. Novel. It was like something out of a novel. Her situation? Sure, it was like a poetic horror, in a way, but... More so, whatever past and secrets were hidden between the two vampires, now that was thought provoking. With that, Sora’s thoughts drifted and she became lost in a daydream.

After some pondering, she rolled over and reached for the edge of the bed. Her fingers touched nothing but the bed frame and she froze up. She rolled over again, this time to look at the gap. Sure enough, it wasn’t there. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. It hadn’t slipped out and fallen. No, it was gone.

“What-...?” Sora began pacing the room, wondering if she had left it somewhere else. It wasn’t on the shelf or in her backpack, though it hadn’t left this room in a few days. She was usually good about keeping track of her things-... Oh. “The door was open... He wouldn’t-...!” She left the room frantically, leaving the door open behind her.

When he opened the notebook to the first page, it was labeled “chapter 8″. Part of him was disappointed for a second. Perhaps, it would have been more interesting if it was that woman’s journal? She was a little more private than their previous sacrifices. Her emotions weren’t always as readable as the girls from the church. Though, that sometimes made her a little more boring.

Then again... reading about her complaining about her pathetic life didn’t sound interesting when he thought about it. What he expected was for this book to be wicked, to hold desires that she kept to herself. Why else would she be so secretive about it? Chapter 8... ah well, as if the rest of it mattered much at all, anyway.

As he began, it didn’t take excellent perception skills to pick up on what kind of story the woman was telling. Suzaku... a young maiden, perhaps a princess, though it wasn’t explicitly stated, quite implied, longed to be with the warrior promised to protect her. She didn’t want to fulfill the duties bestowed upon her: a royal marriage arrangement, essentially, to a stranger. She wanted the man sworn to protect her.

Tch. How typical. It was exactly the kind of material he expected from that woman: a very predictable female fantasy. Yet, one thing did come as unexpected: the perspective. It would have made sense to tell the story through the eyes of Suzaku. But, it wasn’t. It was told through the eyes of her protector.

This chapter began with a battle, one man versus five others, and every little detail of how he defeated them against all odds... and ended in a sort of internal monologue, in which he longed for the girl just the same as she did for him. After that, it skipped to chapter 10, but Shuu wasn’t really thinking about the gaps, just kept reading, occasionally grimacing at the woman’s horrendous hand writing.

Another violent chapter, and it lead Shuu to wonder what kind of woman wrote about such things. This one was less cinematic, but somehow more dramatic. Perhaps she was more masochistic than he originally perceived... or an idiot: an idiot who thought she knew what she was talking about... a typical human with aspirations beyond their understanding.

He was close to the end of chapter ten... but then her loud footsteps interrupted him. He knew it was her before she even got close to the doorway. None of his brothers’ hearts beat that loudly, and none of them carried a heavy scent like that. He looked up even before she crossed the threshold.

“Sh-...! Shuu...” she panted from the doorway, cutting off what was going to be a shout, most likely. Was she actually going to yell at him? How interesting...

She looked a little winded, and Shuu couldn’t hold back a very slight, amused grin at the sight of her. Had she really been that anxious to find him? Shuu didn’t immediately move from where he lounged, curious to see what exactly she was going to do.

“Shuu,” she stated again as she began approaching him. “Shuu, why-... Please don’t take my things. That’s private.” Her tone wasn’t very firm, unsurprisingly. She sounded somewhat pleading, maybe even a little demanding. It was clear to him she was trying to restrain herself. Her eyes were desperate, but also determined.

“That’s cheeky of you: telling me what to do,” Shuu replied, calmly. He maneuvered a bit so that he was leaning up a little more, but still lounging. This leveled their heights somewhat, but she still remained taller as she stood beside him. Even so, she still looked meek.

“Well, it’s cheeky of you to take my things,” Sora replied, a bit uneasily, as if she was testing the waters with her response. Yet, it looked like the words spilled from her lips without much thought. “You are my thing,” Shuu replied without an ounce of hesitation. As soon as those words left his mouth, he could see her expression weaken. “As such, your things are also my things.”

Shuu wasn’t smirking this time. He was dead serious, and he knew she could see that. “I get that I’m your prey, but-” she began. “Do you get that?” he interrupted, speaking over her words. She was silent for a moment, staring at him with doubt riddling those brown eyes. “Shuu...” she spoke his name, a sound somewhat exasperated, maybe even a little sad. Or was she... annoyed with him? How amusing.

“I still deserve some respect. Please-” she gritted out. “-leave my writing alone.” That definitely wasn’t the most pitiful and pathetic please he had ever heard; but, it was most certainly the fakest. Was that supposed to be polite? Was he supposed to believe that she was attempting some humility? Shuu could see it in her red cheeks and glaring eyes, could hear it in her thundering heartbeat... She was mad at him.

He wanted to taste it.

Sora reached for the notebook, as if to gingerly take it from him. She wasn’t attempting to be quick, as if to swipe it from him. She moved steadily, almost like she was asking him permission to take it back. For a moment, Shuu acted as if he was going to let her. From where he held the notebook, it forced Sora to lean over him ever so slightly. Just as soon as her fingers grazed the paper, Shuu dropped the notebook on the bench beside him and used that hand to grab her arm.

She winced at the sudden contact, all her muscles tightening in response to it. For a second, Shuu stared at her face, finally catching the glimpses of fear in her brown eyes. “I don’t like stupid prey...”

Sora cried out as he tore her away from where she stood and dragged her onto the bench, twisting her body around until her back hit the bench and she was pinned beneath him. He pressed one of his legs in between hers as he laid his body over her, one hand to balance himself above her and the other sliding around to the back of her neck, gripping hair and skin as he firmly held her in place.

Her notebook was open beneath them, more specifically trapped under Sora’s body, open on the page where Shuu had left off. How strange... to think that she would consider that worthy of challenging him. Maybe she was unaware that that’s what this was...

“Sh - agh! That hurts!” she cried, wiggling pathetically beneath him. Her hands found purchase on his forearms, squeezing so tightly that her nails dug through his shirt into his skin. She didn’t bother trying to push him off. She seemed to know better than to try that. She was staring up at him with an expression that amused him immensely.

She was a little frightened, sure. It was the kind of fear he had grown accustomed to seeing in those eyes. But, more so, she looked angry. Her jaw was tight, teeth grimacing like she was about to snarl at him. He dug his nails into her skin where he held the back of her neck, mostly to get a reaction. She hissed, squeezing her eyes shut, and unconsciously tilted her head back, as if to lessen the pain.

Her throat never had looked so appetizing.

“You’re nothing but food,” he began, chilled breaths touching her skin. Sora’s eyes remained closed, but her brow trembled slightly as he spoke. “I’ll take what I want from you... your blood... your body... insignificant things...” His tongue tasted her throat before his fangs did, a quick lap at her pulse to make it tremble harder. She flinched once, then again when his fangs met her veins. She tried to mask that sound, a whimper unlike anything he had heard from her before.

Oh...

It was only when he paused that Shuu realized how rough he had been. Had he really been that careless? Or was he more parched than he realized? Blood had gushed from the wound, running down her neck and staining the once pale white pages of her notebook. He could feel how soaked his lower lip was, and even saw a droplet fall from his chin and land on the pages.

Had she noticed? Must have. Her eyes were glistening with tears that had yet to break the surface and fall. “Tch. To cry over something so stupid...” Sora turned her head away, and it was only then that Shuu realized that his grip on her had gone slack. Her eyes were open for a moment before she squeezed them shut. Her tears glistened a trail down her cheeks and joined the blood that stained her notebook.

“Mindless things... mean nothing to me. So long... as your blood is only mine...” Shuu’s fangs found a fresh new place to pierce on the other side of her neck. She flinched silently when those fangs penetrated her skin. She was silent as he took his time savoring her, but he could feel her trembling against him, until she faded from consciousness.

[codyfernaesthetic]

Dichotomy

Part 15

Warnings: mass scale human suffering

Day 1

The first plague came without fanfare; it happened within a blink of time. One moment, the irrigation system put in place was working perfectly, and the next, people were choking on blood and the watering system was spraying red over every plant..

Michael was called immediately to a meeting with the Cooperative, who proved the direness of the situation by opening a bottle of water, crystal clear until being poured out as thick, red gore.

Michael poured the liquid into his hand, attempting to change it back as it splashed onto his skin. What would have normally been a simple parlor trick to him was now impossible. Mallory, who had accompanied him to the Cooperative’s disapproval, had the remaining put into a bowl. She spread her hand over the bowl, concentrating all the energy she could, but it remained blood.

“Send out a group to to inspect any nearby lakes or rivers to start the decontamination process,” Michael ordered.

“We already did,” one replied, “Every body of water for the nearest 300 miles is blood.”

“There has to be some other kind of water storage you have,” mallory chimed in, much to the room’s surprise.

“Why, thank you for the suggestion, Miss Mallory,” the same one replied disdainfully, “But we’ve gone through each backup storage since the first incident was reported, and not a single one isn’t pure blood.”

“Even the water systems for the animals?”

“Every trough, every aqueduct, every toilet is filled with blood.”

“And even worse,” another stood up, “We’ve tested several residents and animals; at least 50 cases from each housing district and 80% of our animals have tested positive for HIV. We’ve ordered a complex-wide testing.”

Michael placed his hands on the table, “How? Have they been drinking the blood?”

“No. So far, everyone who so much as eaten or drunk anything from an hour before the first report is contaminated. Either their food and drinks were already so-“

“Or they transmuted inside of them,” Mallory finished.

“Lord Langdon, have we done anything to offend your father that he would send this curse?”

“It’s her!” One screeched, pointing at Mallory, “The one from Outpost 3!”

The room began to murmur and agree. Michael waved his hand, “Enough! I will speak with my father. See what must be done.”

He stormed out of the room to their disgruntled shouts. Mallory followed behind him, quickening her pace to keep up.

“It’s her, Michael, she told me she’d hurt me if I didn’t comply. And now she wants to bring the whole Sanctuary into it.”

He didn’t slow down, keeping his deliberate, heavy gait. She rushed in front of him, putting out her hands to stop him, “Michael!”

“I have to speak to my father,” he told her sternly.

“He’s not going to take away something that will push us further into the plan.”

His eyes were wild, “And what would you have me do, Mallory?”

“I...I don’t know.”

He sighed, placing his hands on her shoulders, “You and I are the only ones who have hope of saving them. Do you think you’re strong enough to heal them?”

“All of them?” She shook her head, “I’ve never tried healing en masse before.”

“We don’t have to get to all of them today,” he touched her cheek, “I’m going to get you total clearance so those assholes don’t harass you and we will do what we can to keep this contained.”

She nodded, placing her hand over his and kissing his palm.

“Mallory,” he looked her dead in the eyes, “I won’t hurt you either.”

Day 2

Mallory was able to get through nearly all of the infected humans, but barely a fraction of any of the animals by the time the next day came. Michael told her to return to the house and rest, and being so exhausted, she didn’t protest. Meanwhile, they were quickly finding out that neither magic nor science was able to fix their water problem.

That’s when the swarms came.

They started out as a rising black cloud from the east, appearing like a solid column from a distance; but they didn’t make a single blip on any of the Sanctuary’s radar or cameras, they couldn’t tell how far away it was or how fast it was heading their way. They decided the safest bet was to evacuate all residents into the underground shelters. Then as if hearing their plan, the swarm descended on the Sanctuary in an instant, passing through the protective ceiling like it was air. They were a legion of large ugly bugs with thick outer black shells and tails like scorpions. Their arrival sent the residents into a panic, and only a small percentage were able to get underground. Michael tried burning them, flinging blasts of fire straight into pockets of them, but it was as if they absorbed the flames. He appeared in the house, screaming for Mallory to get to safety.

“What’s going on?!”

“Some kind of swarm,” he urged her, “get to the shelter underneath here, there’s a secret passage from the bedroom-“

“What about them?!” She indicates to the ensuing chaos, “I have to help them!”

“We’re getting them shelter as quickly as we can, get underground now. There’s a false wall across from the bed, open it stay down there until I come to get you.”

Arguing with him would only delay the inevitable. She did as he said and found the passage, feeling like a coward as she hid down there while the world above was suffering.

When Michael came to get her, she didn’t know exactly how many hours it’d been. He looked so defeated, his shoulders sagging slightly as they left the shelter.

“How bad is it?” She asked hesitantly.

He frowned, “No one’s dead.”

“That’s good, right?”

He shook his head, “Whatever those things were, they were poisonous.”

He didn’t elaborate, which worried her more than anything.

“How many?”

“Too many for you to try and heal.”

She straightened, “I can’t just hide here when I can help them.”

“Mallory, it’s not pretty.”

“I can handle it.”

The main lawn had been turned into a makeshift care center, tents raised up all around where doctors did their best to treat the poisoned patients.

The sight was even worse than she expected. There were only a handful of people Mallory saw that weren’t covered on each patch of visible skin with red, swollen boils; green pus and blood leaked from them. Every report said the boils were unbearably itchy and agonizing to the touch. When she was spotted by some suffering residents, they formed an angry mob almost instantly, screaming about how she was to blame, that she was bringing all their misery. They would have ripped her to shreds if Michael hadn’t surrounded the two of them in a wall of fire.

“Take another step and I’ll finish what the swarm started!”

They called out accusations and curses, telling her to be thrown outside to the elements.

“She’s the only one with a chance of helping you!” He yelled over them, “If you lay a finger on her, I’ll burn this entire complex to the ground!”

The mob eventually subsided, allowing Mallory to try and heal as many as she could, though she was just as dehydrated and hungry as the rest. Every time it felt like the wind being knocked out of her. She’d stumble back, feeling emptier than before. When she tried to heal a group of them at once, she fainted. Michael rushed her back to the house and revived her. He told her to stay there. They would try again later.

__________

She visited some place in her sleep, different from the field of flowers she’d seen. This was fortress made of jewels, burning white light creating columns for support. A path of water like glass stretched forward leading to a throne. She took an unsure step, finding herself able to walk over the water easily. As she drew closer to the throne she saw her; sitting upright with head held high, adorned with a crown of stars, a billowing white dress flowed down like a waterfall to her feet.

Mallory stopped right in front of it, glaring at her.

“How long will you wait to yield to my will, Mallory?” She asked, shaking her head disappointedly, “Will you stand atop the bodies of humanity’s last efforts before fulfilling your purpose?”

“How can you talk about peace and healing while you destroy what’s left?”

“This world was going to be set ablaze regardless of who won the war,” she said proudly, “He burns for chaos. I burn for purification.”

Mallory felt disgust roiling in her stomach, “Those people don’t deserve to die.”

“Those people are the cause of all this in the first place. I’d say that is cause for divine judgement.”

She threw up her hands, “You can’t punish them for setting them up to fail!”

The woman on the throne gazed into her eyes, “This isn’t about the people in the Sanctuary, Mallory. This is about Michael,” her tone grew mocking, “the broken little orphan who needs a mommy. And you are willing to let the world burn while you fill that void in him and yourself.”

The words were spears to her heart.

“I love him.”

The woman sighed heavily, “The human body can only survive three to four days without water, Mallory. Time is running out.” She placed her hand over her heart, eyes full of grief, “I take no pleasure in this, but if your insolence continues, I will send my wrath upon them until they are all dead. I will break you if I must.”

Day 3

Morning never came. Or at least, all lights had been extinguished. The complex had been covered in thick, inky blackness. To even move through it was like wading through mud. All electricity was down and couldn’t be fixed; even flash lights were unable to pierce the darkness. It was as if all light had been swallowed into this dark vortex. No one moved or talked for hours, like they’d been buried under the darkness.

When the blackness dissipated, the entire complex was disoriented for several minutes; just long enough to see the fire raining from the sky straight towards them. There was no time for either Michael or Mallory to do anything. They, as well as the others, were lucky enough to escape into the shelters this time, but the fire crashed into their granaries and stables, killing nearly every plant and animal not already contaminated. Whatever blood that hadn’t been filtered out of the complex was used to douse the fire; and when they emerged, their utopia had met its own apocalypse. The stench of gore and burning flesh and plants billowed out with the waves of black smoke pouring through the now damaged dome, the complex was smoldering, only the bottom levels remained untouched.

The once greatest achievement of human ingenuity was now reduced to huddled masses sitting in odorous, burning piles of their former glory.

Michael and Mallory shared a grief stricken glance.

They couldn’t defy their parents for much longer. Not if they wanted anyone to survive.

Day 4

Mallory remembered when Michael told them that there were pillaging cannibal hordes raiding the insecure Outposts. The Sanctuary, however, had been untouchable. But now that their resources were all but annihilated, and the integrity of their structural complex was compromised, those hordes descended upon the vulnerable residents like vultures to a carcass.

Michael and Mallory fought them off for as long they could for the residents to barricade themselves. Even weakened, Michael set fire to many at once; their bodies and souls wiped from existence. Mallory pushed the back with all the force she could muster. Her arms were outstretched, sending telekinetic tsunamis to force the hungry raiders back several feet. Her heels were dug deeply into the dirt, her entire body straining, head pounding-

She was knocked to the ground, a crushing weight over her chest as she lay flat on her back. She registered that two knees were atop of her, connected to a man, angry and holding a makeshift spear.

It was Brock.

His hair was overgrown, except for the top which was bald and covered in radiation burns. He was covered in blood, stinking of rotten flesh.

Mallory froze, petrified as he lifted the spear to plunge it through her, a murderous, inhuman screech resonating from his throat-

A figure tackled Brock to the ground, keeping him into a chokehold while he struggled, thrashing his spear wildly. The young man, dressed in servants clothes, red haired and freckled screamed to her, “Run!”

She began to cry, involuntary, recognizing the face from so long ago, “Bartholomew…”

“Run, Mallory!” He cried again.

Adrenaline pushed her to her feet and she ran, she didn’t know where to. Bodies and chaos blocked every path. Screams pierced her ears. She began to sob, covering her head and dropping to her knees.

There was a flash of white. A female voice.

Only you prolong this madness, Mallory.

The young witch threw out her arms, lifting her face to the heavens and released a shrill roar, like a battlecry to enforce aid from the earth. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth, every muscle taught with power.

The ground shook violently. The rumble of shifting earth overpowering the terrified screams. Deep trenches opened up like pits of hell, ravenous jaws swallowing hordes of raiders in their wake. The living residents scrambled away, the invaders falling to the depths. Michael dropped to the ground, staring in awe as Mallory ascended above the scene, light bursting from her fingertips, vaporizing those who weren’t devoured by the pits.

What was left of the hordes retreated, taking what spoils they could grab. As the last of them disappeared, Mallory slowly descended to the ground, the light fading and her cry ceasing. Michael ran to catch her, clutching her close as she passed out into his arms, breathing shallow and soaked in sweat.

“It’s gonna be ok, Mallory,” he sounded so small, whispering assurances in her ear, tears falling from his cheeks to her dress. He recalled a moment from his childhood, gripping onto the dead body of his grandmother in that cursed house. He held tighter, praying to whatever could answer that she would return to him.

________________________

She was back inside the castle of white light, this time on her knees before the throne. The woman looked on her lovingly, stretching out her hand, beckoning her daughter to come forth. Mallory slowly stood, shuffling to her. The woman took her hand, giving her a sad smile, “Yes?”

Her voice was ragged, barely above a whisper.

“What do you want me to do?”

[kolbehq]

FILE // BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Rena Yuu.

Age: 45 years old.

Gender: Female.

Pronouns: She/her.

Species: Human.

Home Planet: Gaia.

Job: Captain.

Criminal Record: N/A.

Contract: The captain goes down with her ship.

Faceclaim: Lucy Liu.

FILE // BACKGROUND

Before Rena Yuu was a glimmer in the universe’s eye, there was a man named Takao Yuu, one of the oldest politician’s and business tycoons of Gaia. Once reveled as the mad genius of his generation, Takao skyrocketed through the social classes of Gaia after engineering a serum that could erase one’s memories. Depending on dose and approximate time post-creation of the memory (’the sooner the better’), it could erase a bad day, a bad year, or a bad life. Although volatile and poorly understood to this day, its uses were widespread and reveled. A loved one died? A trauma endured? A secret learned that was more harmful than the lie itself? Poof, gone, back to daily life. Too powerful for the public sector to openly distribute unregulated, it was treated like a controlled drug to be used under direction of a doctor or technician responsible enough to handle any side effects that could occur (there were too many to list on its official label). What did a gentle white lie matter in relation to the disgusting, ugly truth?

So much time wasted in a laboratory and board room meetings, and Takao missed the young life of his first daughter, Reika. He would have never noticed either - yet one day, Reika went missing. The next, a ransom note was delivered. And too quickly, she was dead, a casualty of a war Takao didn’t realize he had started once his amazing, spectacular super drug hit the black market and created absolute chaos with a nuclear level fallout, leveling his only family in the process. Without a live body, he couldn’t clone her; he knew better to build an android in her like, an empty fulfillment of the daughter he once had. Most assumed Takao would take his own drug to forget the life of the little girl he loved - however, he didn’t, instead allowing her lose to harden him into someone unrecognizable to the few people who knew him, vowing to avenge the death of his first and only love by whatever means necessary. The man he became in the wake of his loss was nothing short of absurd.

Takao established a harem of women to bear him a daughter, but to no avail. Six sons later and he had all but given up on that dream - until one day, the news was bestowed upon him, a little girl had been conceived. In his mind, it was Reika, born into a new body ten years later, and Takao vowed to never take advantage of his baby girl, renaming her after the reincarnation that brought her back to him - Rena, the reborn.

Except Rena Yuu wasn’t the soul of his lost daughter. As a child, she never understood why she was under such staunch protections while her brothers were allowed to do whatever they want, whenever they want, completely free of restriction. Her first memories included being surrounded by an armed personnel detail, a ring of bodyguards that never left her side. She had no mother, in Takao’s eyes, she was simply only his. When he wasn’t working, they had tea together, and he explained to her the few memories from her ‘past life’ that they shared, always asserting she was Reika despite her growing confusion at the sentiment. Only once, around nine years old, did Rena ever speak up and proclaim she was her own person - the hand across her face was swift, and she hadn’t even realized her father had hit her until the stinging pain blossomed across her cheek. She never brought it up again.

Once she passed the age of Reika’s untimely death, she gained a new kind of Hell - the projection of her father’s wishes on every facet of her life. No person was good enough to date - she was to wait until she was twenty-five, like he envisioned, before she could be married to the man of his choosing. No schooling or activity was good enough to participate in - she was too delicate, too precious, too naive to play with her brothers, follow any of their unique paths in life, and instead she was to sit inside and take care of the domestic chores within their home, obstructed from any program she showed the slightest interest in. If she did find something that brought her joy, it was taken, for it didn’t fit the picture-perfect masterpiece her father anticipated for her.

By twenty-two, she had enough. The later years of her teens were spent constantly sneaking out, slipping her security detail, going places she wasn’t allowed, doing things she wasn’t supposed to. Gone was the fear of the unknown, the fear of failure, the fear of pain at the hand of her father. Every time she endured punishment, her anger only grew in depth, silently seething and awaiting its boiling point. Rena Yuu wasn’t allowed to be anything aside from Reika, and although Reika was dead, it was Rena who had been entrapped in a coffin. One night, under the cover of darkness, she escaped once again, but this time with a purpose - she enlisted in the military, the only viable path she could find that could legally trap her and thus truly liberate herself from her father’s madness without repercussions.

Decades passed, and it seemed like Rena had achieved her freedom. She had a gift for tactical thinking by nature, most likely the product of being surrounded by a security detail (and running away from it) for most of her life. She loved to tinker with anything the military allowed her to set her hands on, and was ushered into engineering programs for her intellectual prowess and, more likely, her last name. She never took a vacation or a sick day, the fear that her father would take advantage of her momentary lapse in judgement always hovering on the horizon at a level of mild paranoia. The anxiety that he would drag her back to his personal prison lingered in the back of her mind, and it fueled her to be the very best she could be in anything her ranking officers tried to throw at her.

Soon, she was top of her class, an achievement rendered from having zero personal time, unlimited dedication to the cause, and a lifetime of anger that needed release. She almost never agreed with her superiors, lacked control of her temper, often spoke out of term, had a real problem with authority, and was already at a deficit for interpersonal skills; she never apologized or attempted to appease these claims, however, because she simply didn’t feel the need to. In fact, Rena reveled in these criticisms, having finally found a foothold in a personality that wasn’t the projection of dead girl from an eon ago. However, her feisty attitude landed her in hot water more often than not, and because of this, she was often passed over for the promotions she felt she deserved in lieu of more ‘proper’ types, even if they were usually men who acted the same exact way she did. The more frustrated she felt, the deeper her anger swelled, and stories began to circulate about the deadly way she conducted herself in battles of any kind. Gaia was simply not enough anymore - although restricted all her life, Rena felt like she had already seen enough of her own planet, and longed for something bigger than simply mitigating the growing tension between Antigone and Hermes. She wanted to experience life in a way she never had before. When an open call for any viable captain was made for a top secret mission, ordered by the United Planets itself, Rena practically busted down her superior officer’s door, resume in hand and scowl in place, ready to fight for her dream job.

She didn’t need to - he had already recommended her for the position, and a day later, she received the dossier for what many were calling the suicide mission of the century. It was the first time any of her peers had seen Rena smile.

FILE // CURRENTLY

Rena Yuu’s reputation certainly preceded her aboard the ES Kolbe. The very first day, as she moved to address her new crew, the crowd of guards parted like the biblical Red Sea, eyes widened at the now infamous Captain taking helm, and Rena realized her newfound power was almost palpable in the air. Swirls of whispers arose of men she had accidentally killed in simple spars, ships she had marooned for the sake of proving herself, the utter intensity of which she conducted herself at all times struck fear into the hearts of many - despite some of these stories lacking truth, that is. Despite commanding a ship full of criminals and an inevitably unhappy crew, Rena has vowed to make their mission successful, at any cost. Failure would result in returning to Gaia, a prospect she can’t stomach, and therefore would rather die than achieve. Rena is a stoic captain, not one for rallying speeches or calls to arms (unless abhorrently necessary) - she believes she will be successful simply by leading dutifully, with a sound mind and a knack for understanding the bigger picture. If she does her job correctly, there will be no need for keeping up crew morale. She has no interest in petty arguments, and tends to be quite harsh with her threats and in turn, her punishments. Although she is seen as cold and commandeering, it is simply a front put up for her protection and (as she sees it), the protection of those she’s been tasked to lead. Rena is a fair leader, and is known for breaking her silence to ask an unwitting crew member what they think of a decision before she makes it - although she’s often met with a bumbling jumble of words and slight hyperventilation, she takes to heart any viable recommendation given to her by her crew before making the best decision she can with the information she’s given. Once a decision is made, she doesn’t question it, known for only looking forward and never looking back. As far as her weaknesses as a Captain, Rena naively believes she has none, simply relying on delegation and expecting any person she trusts with a task to complete it to the very best of their capabilities, nothing less. All traces of her renowned anger have been swept under the rug in lieu of taking on her new duties as Captain, but there’s no telling what the ES Kolbe’s mission has in store for them, and in such closed quarters, even Rena can’t be sure she won’t lose control again.