#and the fact that he serves to some extent as an assassin for the order

[kerra-and-company]

🪤💎⚙️ for both Pliarr and Cioffi

Sibling asks hours!! :D

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

For both of them, if they saw the other in danger, they'd absolutely jump in to help even if it was objectively a terrible idea.

For Pliarr, even though he's an expert on mesmer magic, you'd have a surprisingly easy time tricking him with an illusion of his parents if you knew enough about him to play that card. (You'd also probably be dead pretty quickly after that, but hey, just said it would work, not that it was a good idea!)

For Cio, putting Ari and/or Taimi in danger would lure her right into the danger with them, for sure. On a related note, to this day, part of her's still mildly irritated that she wasn't the one to kill Joko.

💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?

Pliarr has enough money to get by--base Whispers agent salary plus some extra for being a specialist--but definitely isn't rich. Luckily, he's really only ever wanted to be comfortable money-wise, so that's more than enough. (Side note, I was trying to figure out what rank/title he'd have in the Order, and I think it'd be Slayer.)

Cio has a smidge more money than her brother thanks to the higher rank she held in the Pact as well as her tech/weapons store that she now runs, as well as her being one of the lesser known experts on dragon magic. And that's plenty for her too! As long as she can get by without having to return to active Pact service, she's happy.

⚙️ GEAR - what are your ocs thoughts on science & art? which do they give more importance to? how much value do they place on each?

Ooh, interesting question!

Pliarr, especially in the years since he's left Rata Sum, puts them on pretty equal footing. He sees them as things that overlap in a lot of ways and doesn't think that either of them are worth less than the other. He himself isn't a particularly skilled artist, but he loves listening to music and seeing art that others have done, and he's also happy to discuss new scientific discoveries/projects with others (assuming they really want to discuss more than they want to brag about whatever it is they've done).

Cio wouldn't say this unless you directly asked her, but she does put slightly more value on science than on art. She sees it as essential to understanding the world and beautiful in its own ways, and she has fought and will fight for everyone to have the opportunity to learn it. She definitely doesn't think art is worthless, though. It's more...that's a lovely thing, and it's important as both self-expression and for morale, but it's not so much her zone of expertise, so it falls a bit lower in the ranks than science. She sees it, in her mind, as a slight difference between important and essential.

#gw2 #pliarr #cioffi #dasozelotvonnebenan #thanks a bunch for the ask! :D #on the last point--cio'd never be an ass about it but that Is what she thinks #and that was super interesting to me because i'd never thought about what her answer would be to a question like that #until literally just now #learned a new thing about my kiddo; thanks for that :D #also for giving me more space to think about pliarr #and the fact that he serves to some extent as an assassin for the order #cause that's a hell of a thing

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Seeking refuge from the oncoming storm

Over the years the Withering Woods has become a much safer place thanks to the Knights. there’s still a lot of areas that are still dangerous to travel but at least if you end up running into trouble, help isn’t that far out. Now, more than ever, the Knights serve a vital purpose in ensuring the safety of the rainforest folk with an impending war breaking out.

As bleak as it may sound, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Ambrosia and Jamie filled me and the campers in on the situation and from how it sounds, they seem to have things under control. In short, the Lunar Rainforest has always been in conflict since the death of their god, even after the rebellion that overthrew the corrupted officials.

Safiyya, the successor of the forest, was able to restore order and bring forth an era of peace for a while. But that still didn’t stop the infighting going on by those who were still loyal to the sages. It also didn’t help that there were many who wouldn’t accept Safiyya as their leader as they had been brainwashed by the sages to believe she was inferior. Latte says the fact that she was able to hold out for this long is a miracle as she really had to put up with a lot and that has taken a toll on her as well as Aymn and Nawaar.

Aside from Safiyya, the Knights are most familiar with Aymn, the advisor/general. He and Nawaar, the scribe, were the ones who fronted the rebellion, so that’s why while everyone else in power was overthrown, they were the only ones who stayed. Cori says while Aymn comes across as intimidating and serious, he’s also a big nerd who can literally go on and on for hours about whatever he’s been interested in. He can be pretty strict when it comes to his job but he also seems to know when to kick back, which probably explains why he was different from the sages. As long as you don’t get on his bad side, he’s surprisingly easy to get along with.

As for Nawaar, there’s a reason why people have referred to him as The Android. Aymn says he’s highly intelligent but way too rational to the point that he seems to lack an understanding for emotions and whims, leading most others to mistakenly assume he’s part robot. Even before the rebellion, most of the higher ups just tolerated him, so despite being sorta considered a hero, he’s still disliked but respected by many. Although Safiyya and Aymn work directly with him, they don’t really consider him a close friend because he always keeps a distance and isn’t exactly the easiest to get along with. As long as he doesn’t cause any disruptions they just let him do whatever he wants.

While those three were cleaning up the mess the sages left behind, various factions were splintering and fighting amongst themselves. Saifyya and Aymn did their best to mediate but it seemed like every time one issue was resolved, ten more pop up, and so the problems kept growing. As much as Safiyya wanted to avoid conflict, there were certain figures who kept trying to instigate it, much to her frustration. She made it clear that the last thing she wanted to do was forcibly exert her power as it would go against her principles, even if it means letting others push her around to an extent

Not surprisingly, Saffiya was forced into a corner when three former sages and their followers attempted to assassinate her, Aymn, and Nawaar. The attack resulted in the deaths of two sages while the third voluntarily turned herself in. Safiyya was cleared since it was obviously self defense, but that didn’t stop most from labeling her a tyrant. In all honesty, what the sages did in the past was bad enough to be punishable by execution. However, Safiyya didn’t want to do that for two reasons - one being that she didn’t believe in killing them, second is that she’d rather have them bear the full weight of their consequences. What she didn’t expect is for some of the sages to still have such a loyal following even after all their crimes had been exposed. From what I understand, regardless of how well she handled things, Saifyya was always bound to get the short end of the stick.

Following the attack, the alliance has pretty much fallen apart. Right now the Knights are offering their assistance as Safiyya’s preparing for the worst. All they can really do at this point is wait and see, which may not sound like much but there’s no predicting what the others will do. For now, it seems like the calm before the storm and Aymn hopes they can use that time to their advantage.

Safiyya and Aymn have admitted that they’ve been on edge since the attack, which is totally understandable. That’s why Harmony invited them to spend the weekend at the cafe since they had been working pretty much nonstop, even while recovering from their injuries. Nawaar was invited too but he declined, which was kinda expected as he was never known to be social, plus the fact that he’s still recuperating. Safiyya’s a bit concerned since he was the most seriously hurt out of the three, but last she heard he’s been following his doctor’s orders. Ambrosia added that she didn’t know The Android was even capable of feeling anything until she spoke to him not too long ago and found him still kinda shaken up by his brush with death.

Harmony has been holding up the fort as usual while the others are out on missions. Around this time of year there’s not as much activity at the cafe because of the cold weather so the Knights were able to focus on the Lunar Rainforest situation. They’re fully prepared to use the cafe as an emergency shelter for the mercenaries if/when war breaks out.

Despite the uncertainty I think everyone’s handling things pretty well. It may sound kinda weird that Safiyya and Aymn are taking it easy for a couple days but there’s really nothing else they can do. As important as it is to prepare for the worst, it’s not healthy to always be on high alert. Latte and Ambrosia know from experience that living in constant fear and paranoia does a number on your mental health so they don’t want the same to happen to their comrades.

While foraging for herbs in the woods we came across some ores and gyroids that would be put to good use. I think it’s the tail end of a gyroid season, which explains why there’s a bunch of them out there. This happens to work out perfectly as we need stuff to make supplies for the mercenaries. Crafting and gyroid searching also provide good distractions when you need a break.

It was nice catching up with the Knights and getting to know Safiyya and Aymn while keeping busy. Ambrosia has been keeping in contact with various factions around the woods to create safety checkpoints for travelers. Monsters are still a huge problem in the Withering Woods but thanks to the Knights, some areas went from being non-accessible to somewhat passable. In an isolated area such as the woods, communication’s super important so Ambrosia has been slowly building a network to make things easier.

Ambrosia has mentioned bits and pieces of her past before, how she went from the top to even lower than rock bottom. When establishing the Knights of the Withering Woods, she wanted to make extra sure that she avoid past mistakes. That’s why she believes in being upfront and honest about everything, because in her experience, poor communication leads to deception, and deception leads to flawed judgement. It’s a vicious cycle, she had said, so she wishes to use her powers to break it. I think seeing what Saffiya had to deal with regarding the sages and their reign of manipulation really struck a nerve with her.

Latte has been busy so she’s in and out as usual. She’s training some of Saffiya’s mercenaries on how to survive and guide in the Withering Woods. Since they’re all experienced and are well acquainted with the dangers of the rainforest, she says training has been going well. In fact, she says they’re the best group she’s ever worked with, not just because they’re competent, but she genuinely likes being around them. Plus she’s been learning a lot from them regarding the rainforest and Lunar in general, gaining a lot of useful and interesting insights. I got to meet a couple mercenaries who passed by and I can see why Latte speaks so highly of them.

Cori splits her time between helping Latte with training, working at the cafe with Harmony, and going out on missions. She says Cora has gone on another big adventure, last she heard her sister was scuba diving in the Cerulean Whirlpool, which is the kind of place only experienced adventurers venture. Harmony says Cori has been training on and off with Jamie in her spare time to refine her wind sword technique, so that’s why she’s been taking on more missions.

Saffy is now a licensed medical witch, allowing the Knights to set up a clinic at the main base. For now it’s mostly her running things but she’s in the process of recruiting medical help so she can get back in combat. With the situation in the rainforest going on, she hopes to get the team together before the clinic gets swamped.

Sage the plant expert has been up to the usual, studying the woods and conducting research. She has written numerous wilderness guides that provide as valuable resources for surviving the Withering Woods. It’s thanks to her that less people are getting lost and/or getting into accidents.

Olive stuck around for a bit before heading back to the city to take care of some affairs. Ambrosia says Olive probably spends about 75% of her time here these days, and will show up a lot more as she’s pretty much the only one who can tolerate The Android for more than an hour. She’s using her connections in the city to help Safiyya and Aymn out so that’ll hopefully give them a bit of an upper hand.

Safiyya is the kind of person who fits the description of gentle yet ruthless. Despite being born to live alongside humans, she spent most of her life isolated, though not by choice. If it wasn’t for Aymn and Nawaar, she would’ve still been trapped while the sages continued with their corruption. Because of their resolve, Safiyya gained the confidence to break out of the shadows and take back what the sages forcibly stole from the people. She went from being helpless to being a force to be reckoned with.

In a way, Safiyya reminds me a lot of Qingmei in terms of overcoming her struggles. Though she’s disappointed that the people chose war, she refuses to let that cloud her morale. After all, she’s worked so hard to get to where she is now, so to give into intimidation would undermine everything. She doesn’t deny holding personal grudges against her detractors - she does have valid reasons to be fair - but a part of her always believed in giving second chances. However if they refuse to learn from their mistakes or own up to them, that’s on them. Literally all she wants is for everyone to be kind and show basic decency to one another, and yet some people act like that’s a personal attack. At this point she’s learned how to pick and choose her battles and honestly, good for her.

As expected, there’s some who try to paint Safiyya as a tyrant, an incompetent leader, an imposter - the list goes on and on. They can talk shit all they want but she will stand by her principles. For Safiyya, the safety of her people always comes first. The sages already stepped out of line once, second was one too many, not to mention that they tried to kill two other people. No matter how her detractors try to twist things, she’s confident that the truth will prevail.

I’d say with all she’s done and her outlook on the future, Safiyya has got my respect. She, Harmony, Ambrosia, and Latte spent most of their lives questioning their worth, and because of what they had to endure, that made them determined to break that cycle of helplessness unfairly imposed on others.

Aymn, like Cori said, is an interesting person. I can see why others are intimidated by him because of his serious demeanor. He says he uses that to his advantage as most people initially don’t take him seriously at first because they usually mistake him for a kid. Cori describes him as unwavering in his beliefs and will do whatever it takes to maintain order. To say that he believes all transgressors should be punished to the fullest extent is an oversimplification but that’s how the general public sees him. All he can say is that if you don’t cause trouble or intend to harm, all should be good.

Despite that, he’s not as rigid as he comes across as. While generally serious, he also has a relaxed and carefree side. The others weren’t exaggerating about him being a big nerd - he legit spent a good amount of money on a super high end gaming PC not too long ago and admits to being a bit of a whale.

I’ll admit, the way his tone changed when he went from talking about his duties as a general to rambling about his latest interest has the same vibe as “Oh no!…anyway…” which I find funny. Now that I think about it, that’s exactly the kind of energy that Aymn gives off.

Along with whatever games he’s been super into at the moment, Aymn has also taken an interest in the Harmonious Cafe. He knows about the Knights and how the cafe came to be so he has a lot of respect for them. In fact, he was the one who recommended that the mercenaries train with the Knights. Though most see Aymn as a stick in the mud who enforces rules, all he really wants is for people to live their lives without hurting each other, which lines up with Safiyya’s beliefs.

From helping Harmony out in the cafe, listening to stories of the Knights’s adventures, and spilling the tea with Safiyya and Aymn about the injustices of the world, the weekend has flown by pretty quickly. I’m glad I finally made this long overdue visit to the woods and I think the break has done some good for Safiyya and Aymn too. Even though I just met them, I trust them and their comrades enough to know that they will not got down without a fight.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 3

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: angst, mention of violence, slow burn Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Okay -- that little pep talk you had given yourself was slowly dying as you walked into work the next day. Suddenly, nervousness was replacing it all, washing over you quickly.

You didn’t exactly know what to say. The extent of conversation you’d ever had with Steve was reserved to you saying “here’s your order” and he’d promptly respond with that shining smile and the most meaningful thank you. 

Bringing up the fact his ex-assassin best friend was your long-lost was just not any kind of coffee shop chatter. 

You were trying to ponder it during the morning rush. Mindlessly making lattes and frappes, you worked on some kind of script that could be thrown together. But your thoughts were interrupted by the bell over the door ringing. This wasn’t unusual giving it being early morning but for some reason, your eyes shot up — landing right on the man you were anticipating. 

As always, he looked so casual yet so large waiting in the back of the line. Eyes wandered over him shamelessly but Steve genuinely didn’t seem to notice. He kept his forward, browsing the menu as if he ever got anything but a large black coffee. You just knew it because, well, it was the easiest order you ever served up. Like the world giving you a break. 

Knowing his order brought some advantages for you. Since he was one of the few people actually ordering straight-up coffee in the morning -- the shop was quite frequented by college students and young entrepreneurs -- you simply didn’t start the coffee pot that morning. Your plan was to start it right after he ordered giving him a wait time of about thirty minutes. Possibly annoying for him, a great chance for you. He’d be forced to wait at the bar and you could chat. Chat about what, though, you still didn’t know. You couldn’t exactly dive in. 

But you weren’t given much more time to plan. Steve was at the cashier before you knew it. You waited, watched as he paid, and then clicked the coffee pot on.

You walked over to the pick-up area. “Sorry,” you said. Steve turned to you. “It’s going to be a few minutes. I had to put on a new pot of coffee but you’re welcome to wait at the bar area.”

Steve gave you a small smile. “That’s fine,” he said and made his way to a stool. Your plan was rolling out perfectly. Now if you could only figure where to take it from here.

You leaned against the counter, watching the pot brew and waiting for another order to come through. Secretly you had hoped some big, ridiculous latte request would come in but so far the customers and seemed to die down. You couldn’t do much but stand across from Steve who was looking around at the decor. 

The machine was about half full when you finally decided to open your mouth to at least say something -- but Steve beat you to it.

“Is everything okay?” He asked. Your eyes widened. 

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” Steve coughed and readjusted his posture. “I just meant, you look like something is bothering you. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t do this today, you realized. Your brain suddenly went on a mission finding some lie to pop out. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you dismissed his comment with a wave of your hand. “I- I Just… Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Alright. Your lie suddenly was dripping with subconscious truth. You cringed at your own words, rubbing your forehead with two fingers. This was the dumbest idea you had ever had and now you were forced to see it out as the coffee pot suddenly felt like it was brewing at half-speed.

“Oh,” Steve frowned but leaned forward, a bit intrigued. “Unpleasant dreams?”

You sighed, “You could say that.”

“Were they from…” His words trailed off unusually. The discussion of soulmates was somewhat of an accepted one. Usually, just in hopes that one could lead them to their significant other.

Steve, however, seemed leery about the subject. You were certainly in the same boat. That let you relax just ever so slightly. 

“My soulmate?” You blurted out the question. Steve nodded, slowly. “Yeah, they were. He… he hasn’t seen very nice things in his lifetime.”

It felt so weird talking about Steve’s best friend while Steve most likely knew nothing about who you were referring to. It was like a giant weight in the conversation for you. You wanted to blurt it out, wanted to maybe meet your other half and just see what everything was about, see who he  really  is but it felt so heavy on your chest. It just wasn't right yet. You'd get a sign, you knew. Then you'd proceed but not here, not today.

Steve sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands that were resting on the counter. “No, I don’t think he has.”

Your stomach dropped. Did -- Was he -- Did he know who you were talking about? Steve no longer would meet your gaze but your eyes grew wide again in possible realization -- or... maybe you were just being absolutely paranoid. Perhaps he didn’t even say that and you misheard him -- 

DING. The coffee machine rang making you jump in surprise. You forgot for a second where the hell you two even were. Steve’s eyes fell on you again but you quickly turned to the coffee, refusing to let him see your blushing, flustered state. 

He knew. He had to know. Or at least he guessed. But how could he know? Steve wasn’t in yesterday, he wouldn’t have witnessed your panic. Did your co-worker tell him? When the hell would she have done that? Maybe… Maybe Bucky knew… What did he know then of you? And if he did, why wasn’t he here? Steve knew you so what the fuck was happening… 

Your mind was a maze. A painful, winding maze. You could feel yourself trying to make it through the thoughts and theories but nothing was working. You forced yourself to push it all down, just for the rest of your shift. 

Continuing, you quickly filled Steve’s to-go cup and placed it on the counter. He didn’t take it right away, opting to stare at the cup for a second. You pretended not to notice and instead began grinding espresso beans for a latte order that came in. 

“It’ll get better,” Steve said, making your motions still completely. Such a simple thing that could mean so much. Was he offering comfort? A taunt? Your brain was back at it again. 

You forced yourself to look up, wanting so badly to say just one more thing, maybe even plead and confess it all, but he was already gone. You felt like crying as you went back to brewing the beans. That unmistakable, inescapable tinge of heartache filled your chest.

***

It’ll get better. Steve’s words rang in your head tauntingly as you laid in bed that night. Staring at the ceiling, you had been trying to fall asleep for over an hour now hoping this “better” Steve spoke of was right around the corner. 

So far, though, no luck. Tonight’s flicks were of an older kind, thankfully still not as powerful as the more modern ones, but the images didn’t get any better. They were quick looks, sure, but violence and bodies, a horrendous combination produced horrendous results. The feelings behind it went straight to your soul. 

You gave up even trying to decide what the hell this memory could’ve been from. You didn’t want to register the potential victim’s faces. You didn’t care about the scenery and whatnot. 

The better had not come yet — whatever the hell  that  actually was which Steve had promised. 

He knew something. Something very deep and useful for this situation. It was laced in his words and written on his concerned face. 

Or maybe you were going crazy. The more you thought about it, the less it all made sense. 

There was just that hope you were able to go off of now. That hope of “better.” That hope of fate. 

Hope was your only weapon against the heart-wrenching memories flooding their way into your brain as your eyes were forced to give in, too heavy and defeated from today. 

It was maybe all you had at this point and the whiplash of life was certainly throwing you a new one.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mcu #mcu fic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel #soulmate au #writing #fluff #angst #slow burn #the winter soldier

[silenceinternalmonologue]

A Review of Loki (2021)

[The following is an exact transcription of Twitter user @/diolesbian ‘s thread linked here . They gave me permission to cross-post their thread on my Tumblr. Keep in mind that this review is fairly long and quite critical of the series. I agree with this review wholeheartedly, and would be welcome to discuss it with anyone else.] 

Loki is a character who has died many times, but his own series may be his most brutal character assassination yet.

1.  Loki’s role in the series. Instead of tackling Loki's most villainous state of mind in Avengers 1, the series literally speedran through his development in the subsequent films, after which they almost entirely halted his character progression.

Because this series was set right after Avengers 1 it had the responsibility of developing Loki further in place of The Dark World and Ragnarok. In Episode 1, this development was kicked off by having Loki watch a reel of some of his defining moments in the MCU, allowing him to see his future all the way up to his death in Infinity War. Sadly, this scene ended up being the most development he received in the entire series. And arguably, this isn’t even true development but more like a speedrun of his character up until that point, serving as a simple tactic to explain why he wouldn’t be acting all dictatorial and murderous during his own series. As soon as he had been made “good” (read: docile) enough to follow along with the plot, his agency was completely thrown out. From that point on, the series wasn’t about Loki making things happen but about things happening to Loki.

Loki was supposed to be the main character, but he wasn't the protagonist in this story. In fact, he was more of a side character than we’ve ever seen him be in the MCU before, perhaps excepting IW and Endgame.

A protagonist is by definition someone whose important decisions affect the plot, whose development is followed most closely by the audience, and who is opposed by an antagonist. Loki exhibited none of these traits in this series. Especially the latter half of the story, he was reduced to simply reacting to the revelations around him, such as the reveal that the TVA members were all variants and that Kang was the true mastermind behind everything. He never truly involved himself or acted based on any of these plot points, and hardly played a key role in what was supposed to be his own story. Even in the films, where Loki is a side character, he makes choices which impact the plot to a larger extent. He almost seems more like a background character in the role of protagonist than in the parts he plays in the films.

2. The antagonist. The TVA could have worked as the perfect setting for Loki to have a new arc. It’s a thematic antithesis to who we know Loki to be. But when this Loki turns out to not be who the audience thought he was the TVA’s thematic significance falls apart as well.

In Episode 1, the TVA’s Agent Mobius enlists the help of Loki the Variant to pin down a greater foe who we are told is another, more malicious version of Loki. Order and chaos meeting in the middle, teaming up to take down an enemy, who even happens to be the protagonists’ literal evil self: that works, it sounds promising. But this dynamic is soon undermined when Loki leaves with Sylvie. Still, the benefit of the doubt is easy to grant here: a story about tricksters is bound to contain twists. But by Episode 3 the series is halfway done and the TVA has been appointed as the main antagonist again: we’ve now established villains three different times. And then the Cloud Monster At The End Of Time is introduced, and finally Kang. In other words, the Loki series has no consistent antagonist, no one to pit its main character against. And this is where we once again miss out on an enormous aspect of Loki’s potential characterization.

Protagonists are always defined by an antagonist, whether a purple Titan, a flat tire, or themself. Loki is not given anything to define his morals, motivations, or development in opposition to and this is a huge oversight. Especially given the fact that Loki has taken on the villain’s role in the past: how is the audience supposed to know that the “bad guy” is now a “good guy” if there’s no “even worse guy” to stand up against?

3. The plot. A plot should show off its MC’s strengths and match their personality. The Loki plot hardly relied on his presence at all, he didn't play a key role. The story had so little to do with Loki that it seemed as though he has barely any impact on “his” narrative.

One of the most central conflicts in the Loki series doesn’t involve him at all: it’s between Sylvie and the TVA. This plotline was a good concept overall, but its main problem is that it’s practically the only conflict in the series. Loki himself, as mentioned before, isn’t set in opposition to anything or anyone. And thanks to his relationships with Sylvie and Mobius being weakened by conflicting storytelling devices, he appears to be in a bubble by himself away from the rest of the cast for much of the story. First he follows Mobius around, then Sylvie, then he wanders aimlessly in the void before following Sylvie once again and learning that Kang is a Really Bad Guy who he should be opposed to even though by this point he has interacted so little with the story unfolding around him that the audience doesn’t even understand why he should be choosing to play the hero.

The plot and the characters both suffer by being so incredibly unrelated to each other. A series, especially an MCU one, should tell an overarching narrative through the perspective of its main character.

In the beginning of the series, when Loki was still getting his bearings in the TVA, this lack of decision-making was more understandable, especially since some of his skills were still being shown-- he discovered Sylvie was hiding in nexus events, and he made the choice to leave Mobius and follow her. But by the latter half of the series he still hasn’t had much impact on the story or taken any actions of his own, and simply allows plot points to happen to him. Just because the Loki series had to introduce the TVA and Kang didn’t mean it had to forgo telling a story about its protagonist. If Loki’s story had been intrinsically tied to the overarching plot points, if his choices had been some of the primary factors determining how events ended up taking place, the series would have succeeded in every aspect. But instead Loki is pushed aside by the plot of his own series, a plot which subsequently ends up coming across as largely hollow and pointless due to its lack of character drive.

4. Loki’s arc. One of the main reasons MCU Loki is loved is for his excellent character development across his films. TVA Loki was extremely lacking in that aspect and chances to take his character in interesting new self-aware directions were thrown away without much thought.

Throughout the MCU, Loki is on a journey with many highs and lows. He goes from a bitter and disheartened prince standing in the shadow of his brother, to a self-loathing Jotun bent on destroying his own people in a desperate attempt to win his father’s love, to a half-mad partially mind-controlled dictator with delusions of grandeur fueled by his own insecurity, to a prisoner wondering what there is left for him to lose, to a savior of Asgard’s people finally coming to accept his place in what is left of his family, to a tragic sacrificial victim who knew he had to die so the true hero might live on. That’s a hell of a journey, incidentally shown in less than TWO HOURS of screen time, and the prospect of TVA Loki embarking on an equally stimulating one, this time told over the course of over four hours and shown from his own perspective the entire way through, was exciting. But as it turned out, this relatively simple expectation went completely unmet.

For a story trying to say so much about individuality and self-acceptance, the Loki series seemed to pass by every obvious opportunity to tackle those questions.

Sylvie’s introduction seemed like a good idea at first: Loki would be able to literally bond with himself and learn to accept who he is that way, and forays could be made to explore what Loki’s personality could have been like if he grew up under different circumstances! But aside from a scene or two in Episode 3, this was not how things ended up going. Loki didn’t come to any grand or important conclusions about his identity, he didn’t choose to act differently, all that happened was a vaguely-worded confession of pseudo-romantic feelings which was cut off in the middle, made no sense, and weakened the narrative in a whole host of other ways explained elsewhere. Loki’s encounter with other versions of themself in the Void was similarly meaningless: Loki didn’t end up expressing or demonstrating a single thing he learned from meeting all of those alternate selves, despite the fact that there was potential for massive self-discovery there.

Less than 2 hours of MCU screen time portrayed Loki more coherently than this entire series. Loki is loved because of how much he changes, and it felt like he didn’t in this series. He started off lost and stayed that way throughout the entire plot.

By the end of the series, it was impossible to identify who Loki had become. He said he didn’t want a throne, but it was not obvious why not. He looked sad to be betrayed by Sylvie, but never expressed what that meant to him. He seemed afraid once Kang was unleashed, but why? Why did he care about the Sacred Timeline? What were his motivations? Throughout the series the answers to these questions became less and less obvious, culminating in the final episode which ended without a single moment of reflection or explanation as to who Loki had become. He wasn’t a villain, but only because he wasn’t murdering people. He was in some capacity a hero, for… being against Kang, probably, but once again with no explanation as to why Loki had decided to feel that way. He never seemed self-assured in his heroism, as if he hadn’t chosen the role for himself. Again, making one’s own choices that shape the narrative are what differentiates a protagonist from a side character, but Loki did not do that in this series.

5. Loki and Sylvie’s relationship. Loki and Sylvie had the potential to be a powerful duo representing the process of self-acceptance but instead they were reduced to a strange pseudo-romance.

Despite Loki’s many developments in the films, he never truly liked himself. He has been known to act extremely confident and self-righteous at times, but this is merely the opposite side of the coin containing his self-loathing and insecurity. Having him literally meet and subsequently befriend himself in Episode 3 was a move towards developing this aspect of him and potentially teaching him to finally accept himself as he truly is, but this buildup was all shattered in Episode 4 when the relationship is portrayed to have romantic undertones. Instead of a powerful struggle to accept oneself, the relationship between Loki and Sylvie becomes a twisted thing which is memeable at best (selfcest LOL amirite?) and outright damaging to both characters and the very concept of loving oneself at worst.

Ultimately, Loki and Sylvie's relationship didn’t add anything to either character’s development and actively detracted from what could have been a touching story.

Romantic love is extremely different from self love; romantic love has connotations including dating conventions and sexuality which are impossible to ignore and in this case serve as a distraction. And on top of ruining a potentially powerful storyline, this strange relationship makes both Loki and Sylvie seem out of character. Loki is once again one thousand years old and he has never even had a true friend, so why would he possibly fall for someone after knowing them for only two days? Meanwhile in Sylvie’s case, Loki’s “feelings” for her cause the audience to pay more attention to her romantic life and gestures rather than her actual character and motivations.

6. Loki’s Sexuality and Gender Fluidity. Loki’s sexuality and gender has been shown in several comic runs, and the series was advertised as featuring this representation as well. But due to several fundamental errors and problematic storytelling this also fell flat.

Sylvie’s introduction filled many fans with hope regarding the portrayal of Loki’s identity. In the MCU neither of their LGBT identities had ever been touched upon, while the series introduced a female variant of Loki and explicitly stated their sexuality. But this portrayal soon unraveled, most notably in Episode 5, in which many other Loki variants were shown but not a single one besides Sylvie was non-male. On top of that, when TVA Loki mentioned Sylvie and referred to her as “a woman Variant of us”, the other Lokis agreed that that sounded “terrifying”. Why should a genderfluid being be afraid of a version of themselves presenting as a different gender? It read as both fluidphobic not to mention strangely sexist.

The pseudo-romance between Loki and Sylvie only aggravated the situation. Not only did the nature of the “relationship” seem to follow heteronormative storytelling tropes (falling in love after a couple days of knowing each other, one party being reduced to a love interest, valuing romantic love above any other type, etc) but it also seemed distressing and offensive to many genderfluid people. A romance between a male and a female Loki, one of which doesn’t even call herself by that name, seems to be implying that an individual becomes someone else when merely presenting as a different gender, which of course isn’t at all the case. The writing wasn’t necessarily malicious here, but it was certainly ignorant and potentially even harmful. The opportunity was there to translate Loki’s powerful comic representation into the framework of the MCU, but this attempt did not succeed.

7. Loki’s characterization. Loki is a chameleon, but there are certain traits fundamental to his character. These traits were either ignored or actively mocked in the series. The audience already knew “what makes a Loki a Loki", but the series threw that knowledge away.

Episode 1’s premise of stripping Loki of everything he is used to was an intriguing setup to ensure the discovery of the core of who Loki truly is. The only problem was that this truth didn’t end up being found at all. Mobius made fun of Loki’s most defining traits, such as his habits of lying to manipulate people and acting out of a place of insecurity, which seemed to be a signal for the narrative to forbid Loki from exhibiting any of those traits from that point on in any way. This reduction in Loki’s character was reflected in everything, from his lack of humor (in the films he’s even funny while he’s taking over the world!), the underpowered way in which he fought against Sylvie (he’ll use magic to dry his clothes, but fight with a damn vacuum cleaner?) to the way that he wore the same boring outfit in every single episode-- it may sound shallow, but clothes are important when presenting a character. Every one of Loki’s looks in the films said something about him and his state of mind, and sadly that bland TVA outfit seemed to convey that Loki really was nothing more than a subservient pawn in what was supposed to be his own story. Ironically, the writing stripped Loki of everything that made him Loki, and left us with nothing but a Jotun-shaped void to be swayed by the whims and wills of the characters and plot devices surrounding him.

8. Loki’s past and abilities. This series could have elaborated on aspects of his character which had been teased at in the films and theorized about by fans, but ended up being a disappointment in this aspect as well.

Aside from Loki’s characterization and development, something else the series ignores is much of his canon story in the films. Since Thor 1, a truth that always overshadowed Loki was his Jotun heritage. He struggled with it up until the time of his death, clearly visible in his relationship with his foster family. It’s understandable that Loki was supposed to be independent from Thor in his series, but that’s no excuse for completely ignoring this central part of who Loki is. It doesn’t matter how much he goes through or how much his circumstances change, this feeling of unbelonging sits deep in Loki’s core and should have been both explored and explicitly discussed in the series. A series all about Loki was the perfect opportunity for him to finally confront and explain his relationship with his heritage, and potentially come to terms with it as well. And this isn’t even to say how cool some more insight on Loki’s Jotun inheritance could have been-- hypotheticals aren’t the point of this review, but it would have been fascinating to see Loki reacting adversely to heat like he has been hinted to in the past or even using his ice powers like he did in Thor 1.

Loki's magic was tragically underused. It felt like he was stripped of all of his magical powers even after his TVA chains had been removed, and this was never explained.

A second huge oversight is his magic. His powers are all over the place in this series. They were always a bit vague in the films, but this series was the opportunity to set that right and explain exactly what Loki was capable of as a sorcerer, especially now that the MCU has embraced magic more than it had ten years ago. But instead, Loki showcased an inexplicable lack of magic use-- again, the vacuum cleaner fight can be presented as evidence. There is a single scene in which Loki says that he learned his magic from Frigga, but no information is given as to how much he learned or why he doesn’t always favor spells. His power levels are incredibly inconsistent (he forgoes using magic when first confronted by the TVA, but is later shown using telekinesis to save himself from being literally crushed to death). And, strangest of all, there is a scene in which he tells Sylvie that he “can’t” enchant living beings. Loki, the millennium year old Trickster sorcerer god, who can hold an Infinity Stone with his bare hands, reanimate Surtur in the Eternal Flame, and trick the average person using illusions with ease, can’t cast a little enchantment? And if so, why not? The series offered precious few explanations concerning Loki’s magical abilities and instead only raised more questions. And in this way, Loki is once again relegated into the background and left with not a single shred of any new characterization or development. 

Loki contains multitudes, but the series reduced him to two dimensions.

This isn’t to mention every other facet of Loki’s story that could have potentially been explored to great success in this series-- his torture and subsequent partial mental influence at the hands of Thanos just before the events of Avengers 1 is one obvious example, as is his youth on Asgard, as are his suicidal tendencies (people don’t tend to survive falling off the Bifrost, and he knew that when he threw himself off of it), plus infinite other facets of him. Of course, it was both necessary and more interesting for this series to be its own story rather than one which lingered on past films-- but that’s not to say that none of these plot points should have come back, at least subtly, to play a role in this story. Plot points exist to be brought back later, not completely ignored. Otherwise a story may as well be written about a completely original character.

#loki #loki 2021 #loki disney+ #loki discussion #loki discourse #loki spoilers #lokius #loki x mobius #loki x sylvie #sylki #marvel #marvel discourse #loki review #mcu loki #loki series #loki season finale #loki season 1 #loki ship

[g-on-ef]

Blitz decides to take up Strikers offer because frankly, he’s confused. For the first time, someone has gave him respect, and treated him like an equal. Is this what life could be like for him? He can feel the chemistry between himself and Striker, it’s different than the transactional fucks with Stolas.

He leaves a note for M and M and Loona, explaining everything, that he’ll be gone for a while, because he has things he has to work out. Honestly, Blitz thinks they won’t even miss him.

Blitz leaves with Striker that night, with Strikers tail curled round Blitz’s hip.

A/N: saw an opportunity to turn this into a mini fic and I did ^^ characters might be slight oc

Blazing red eyes met emerald green ones.

It was so tempting to say yes to give in to Strikers words and join him and his crusade.

His words screaming in his head, drowning out every other thought and reason as to why he shouldn't agree to Strikers plan.

But why not? After all Striker was right Stolas saw him as a plaything and treated him like he was lower than the Prince.

Blitz would never admit it but Stolas's words cut him deep.

Reminding him how he's only an imp, always sexualizing him, talking down on him, making him feel like all he's good for is a good fuck.

Not to mention how that while he agree to be his bodyguard he realized what a fool he was, Stolas could have easily defended himself and his daughter and yet he invited him and his employees and all that it got them was Blitz being reminded of the awful time he spend there, Moxxie and Millie getting hurt and that cheap ass robo clown reminding him yet again how everyone feels about him.

But if agree to join him ... What would happen to Moxxie and Millie ??? His precious Loony ??? He doubts that Striker would let them join them, what will he do without them?

"Well Blitz?"

Blitz felt like he was drowning in his thoughts and Strikers voice was able to pull him out from the very depts of his mind.

"What's your answer?" His tail wrapped itself around Blitz's waist and pulled him closer to Strikers body.

Blitz placed his hands on Striker's chest, their eyes never leaving each other.

However Striker placed his hands down and backed away a little leaving enough room for Blitz to breath and not feel like he was being corner into giving the answer Striker wants to hear.

His tail however remain wrapped around his waist.

Blitz looked away as his hand began to pet Striker's tail the cowboy began to purr making Blitz smile a little, his smile however fell as he thought about the situation they are in.

"I...I don't know," there he said it, he wasn't sure if he should agree to this or not. While the idea was tempting he wasn't sure if he could do it, if he was the one to help Striker to fight along side with him. Sure they tied in the games but does that even mean anything? Is he qualify to stand beside Striker.

After all Blitz maybe a good assassin but he wasn't that good.

Than again his insecurities sure were screaming loudly today reminding him that he'll never be good enough.

He felt a gloved hand under his chin, lifting his head, making him look Striker in the eyes.

"What do you mean?" His voice was soft, not annoyed or angry nor demanding but soft as if he was going at Blitzs pace.

Blitz gulped. This was another thing about Striker that Blitz admire.

The patience he had with him.

Blitz wasn't a fool he knew he could be a bit to much but the short time he and Striker spent together Striker showed him he genuinely liked Blitz and his company.

Last night definitely proved how much Striker loved Blitzs company.

Shaking his thoughts from straying he focus on the question he asked.

"I can't abandon M&M or Loony they're my family,"

H expected him to say something rude about them, find some way to manipulate him into turning his back against his employees.

Striker looked at Blitz and could see how vulnerable he was being, how sacred he was of something awful happening to him after saying no. Not only that but he could see his insecurities clear as day.

They were slowly rising up from whatever cage Blitz had them locked in, could see how they were giving him doubts reminding him of all the lies that everyone has ever told him until they became his version of the truth.

He can't help but wonder exactly what Goiesha and others before that pompous asshole did to him to make him scared to say no. Or feel like he wasn't good enough. Striker vow to hunt them all and kill them.

Striker pulled Blitz closer to him wrapping his hands around Blitz he hugged the smaller imp.

He could feel Blitz body freezing and the contact and not knowing what to do.

Striker ignored that and instead kissed the top of his head.

"I hate being being a weak ass bitch but for you I'll be one Blitz, if you want a better life for them then getting rid of Goiesha and the rest of the overlords is our best bet, I may fuck around wit Moxxie but even I can see how much you care for him and Mildred. Not to mention how much you love your daughter. I won't force you to say yes but think about it okay?"

He tighten his arms around him.

"You have so much untapped potential, don't let fucktards like Goeshia make you think otherwise.

He pulled back from Blitz his tail gave him one last squeeze before uncoiling itself from his body he gave Blitz one last smile before giving him a piece of paper.

"my number if and when you're ready to join me,"

Striker left him alone before he was out of the room. Leaving Blitz alone with his thoughts.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blitz packed his things away Striker was gone, neither Millie nor her parents knew where he went they were however mad he left them without a warning.

Blitz packed his things away, last night he barely got any sleep hell he was ready to just off himself so that he could sleep.

Last night all he could think about was Striker and how the other imp made him feel.

It wasn't just mutual respect it was the fact that he was attracted to the other imp their fuck before the games was the best fuck Blitz had.

Not only that but he trusted Striker enough to bottom and he rarely did that.

He remembers how Striker made him feel, challenged, appreciated, cared for, Striker was bringing so many feelings out of Blitz he never knew he had.

Not to mentioned that Striker made him question everything he knew.

Striker referring him as a plaything to Stolas cut deep, not because it was Strikers intentions but because how true they were.

Not to mention it didn't matter how far Blitz got he was still a lowly imp who only existed to obey orders from those higher than him.

Him giving into Stolas's demands proved that.

Sure he could use that he gets to keep the book and only has to visit him during the full moon but that didn't change the fact that he was basically Stolas's bitch.

Loo Loo Land and The Harvest Moon Festival were perfect examples of him doing whatever Stolas said just because he got paid or he was wear down until he gave in.

Striker ... Striker did the one thing no one has ever done for him ... he gave him a choice ... he asked him to join him; not once did he try to force Blitz to say yes or kept pushing till h gave in.

Even now he was giving him the choice to say yes or no.

He could've done so many things to force him to say yes instead he gave him space didn't push for more than what Blitz was willing to share nor did he manipulate the situation into his favor he just respect Blitz and left him be.

Blitz wonder if he should give into temptation, say yes and see how far he could go and the extent of his power.

Looking at Millie, Moxxie, and Loona ... he wonder how they would feel if he left.

He secretly wonders if they would even care that he's gone.

Loona didn't really care for him and Moxxie was only there because of Millie and we'll Millie loves killing so he wonders if she even cares about him or just loves that she gets to kill humans.

Fitzorallys words cut deep because it was a question he always tried to avoid asking himself because he knew deep down no one did.

He wasn't stupid, he knows he can be a bit much, overbearing and annoying so will they even miss him?

He takes a deep breath and shoves that question deep within his subconscious, just another query that he will avoid as much as he can.

"Sir are you okay?"

Blitz lifted his head and looked at his fam- employees

He could see them eyeing him carefully wondering what was wrong with their boss.

"Yeah Moxxie everything is fine,"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Three weeks later

Striker open the door before he could even knock.

The cowboy IMP wasnt wearing his hat which made him look sexier than with it on.

"You came,"

"Yeah ... I did ... I'm in,"

Striker nodded his head he grabbed Blitz's bag and jerk his head a movement that told him to follow him to wear Bombproof was.

Blitz followed him. After much deliberation Blitz decided to follow Striker. He couldn't give a good reason as to why he wanted to join him.

Perhaps it could be do to his words, or maybe because he genuinely like Striker and wanted to see how far their relationship could go there many reasons as to why he decided to join Striker but he did know one thing for sure

He knew that if he wanted to make it to the top he'll need to stop serving bitter sinners and partner up with Striker and kill the unkillable. Make them pay for all the shit they put him and IMPs and hellhounds through.

Striker was right if he wanted his employees to have a good life he'll need to change the system

He already left a note to M&M as well as Loona he told them that he would be gone for a few weeks as he had somethings to figure out.

He of course before meeting or contacting Striker, Blitz met up wit Stolas told him that he can have him for a whole day to do whatever Stolas wanted the only thing he asked was for him to give Millie, Moxxie, and Loona 2.5 million dollars each that way they'll at least have money and not worry about anything for the time being.

Worst day of his fucking life but it was worth it. Stolas of course wanted to know why Blitz demanded for such a thing.

Blitz just gave him the finger threw his book in his face and left.

Striker put his bags over Bombproof before his hands grabbed Blitz's waist and hoisted him up placed him on Bombfires back.

Striker got on his hellhorse with ease.

He felt Striker's lips on his forehead before Striker's tail wrapped itself around his waist pulling Blitz closer to him.

"You won't regret this,"

Blitz smiled at Striker before cupping his face leaning forward he kissed Striker the two shared a soft passionate kiss

The two pulled back giving each other soft smiles. Blitz curled up on Striker's chest letting out soft purrs as Striker ordered Bombfire to move.

Blitz for the first time in weeks slept peacefully while Striker brought the smaller imp closer to his body his tail tightening itself around his waist not once did it let go of his beloved.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Imma be honest with y'all ... It was not supposed to be this long ... Oh well tell me what you guys think ^^

#blitzo helluva boss #helluva striker #blitzo x striker #helluva blitzo #helluva boss #answers asked #anon #anonymous #ficlet

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter V: The Extent of Language

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks and flashbacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: single mention of self-hatred.

Author’s Note: If you have any questions or concerns about these warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! 

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

 . . .

JANUARY 28TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The riding habit Doña provided you with was much less intricate than your everyday gowns and pumps. The second you had grown accustomed to squeezing into multiple layers of skirts, the leisurely riding habit reminded you of you who truly were. Instead of balancing on the small, dainty heels of the shoes, you were given black boots that buttoned up. They supported your legs and resembled the ones that you had abandoned at Doña’s residence, save for the high quality leather that they were made of. 

Oh, how you loved irony.

Even your long navy gown resembled the sensible style you favored between assignments, the long hem lengthening your profile and the sleeves allowing you to tuck your gloves in with ease. The neckline revealed nothing besides the casual white button up that Mey-Rin surprised you with- the collar ended inches above your throat as it served as your innermost layer of clothing. The dark palette of colors would aid in concealing the stain of Lord Phantomhive’s blood when the time came. 

You ran your thumb over the engraved lines of your knife’s wooden handle. The divots that you felt helped you focus and the familiar weight of the weapon was a comfort. You memorized each detail of the silver blade’s intricate design; swirls of turquoise, abstract bits of purple and gold leaves, held together by the illustrated vines. The detail ran up the blade spine, but left the tip a plain silver. 

It was finally the day that you’d add the Earl to the count of those whose lives you took with that very blade, putting an end to the assignment. Cautiously, you slid the knife into your boot, between your thin stocking and the boot’s rough leather to avoid slicing the skin of your ankle. Your boot was high enough to conceal the whole of the blade- past the silver quillons. Paired with your extra long riding skirts, the weapon was concealed perfectly.

As you went to the front of the estate where you agreed to meet Lord Phantomhive and Sebastian, your heart raced, expecting the violence you had planned- as if it was going to happen at that very moment. The pace of it only picked up as you opened the front door and shut it behind you, revealing the pair. The Earl was scratching the muzzle of a chestnut horse, it was completely tacked and to your surprise, there wasn’t another one. The fact was bewildering until you recalled that it was poor form for a girl; much less a woman, to properly steer and ride her own horse.

Sebastian was the first to speak, and the amusement in his voice was disarming to you. “Guten Tag, Eure Hoheit. Darf ich vorstellen: Autumn, unser zuverlässigstes Clydesdale-Pferd. Ihr und mein Herr werdet sie heute reiten,” (Good afternoon, Your Highness. Meet Autumn, our most reliable Clydesdale horse. You and my master will be riding her today) he said, likely catching the subtle show of irritation that you fought in your face. 

“Autumn is quite accustomed to this trail, if it helps to set your mind at ease,” Lord Phantomhive commented, quickly taking in the sight of your dressed down state. Your hair was even out of its braided bun, for the favor of a looser one that was tied with a black ribbon. Stray strands framed your face, falling in strategically curled waves. The adlib strands accentuated the thin pearl choker and matching earrings you had chosen.

“Right, thank you,” you acquiesced, presuming that any sort of protest would be out of character for Marie, or any high ranking woman in general. You stepped down the small stairs, deliberately avoiding the suspicious glare of ice. The last thing you needed was to take a tumble and injure yourself, which heeled boots made it easy to do. 

Upon closer inspection, Autumn was a beautiful horse. Her coat stuck out against the white and grey winter terrain and complimented the black tack set and warming blanket. Her neat maine and tail strategically matched her tack.

You ran your hand over Autumn’s neck as Lord Phantomhive hoisted himself onto the saddle by putting one foot through a stirrup and using that as leverage to swing his other leg over the horse’s back. After righting himself, he extended his hand to you, his white pair of gloves matching the ones you sported, making his rings much more conspicuous. “Your Highness,” he spoke, briefly bending his fingers to express that you needed to take his hand- as if you lacked the knowledge of riding etiquette. 

After taking a brief moment to stare at the startling sapphire on his ring finger, you accepted his hand and stepped in the stirrup to settle your bottom on the pillion behind the saddle. Vaguely, you could recall that sitting side-saddle required you to both hold on to the driver’s middle with an arm and cross your ankles, allowing your legs to bend naturally from your sitting position. “Thank you,” you quickly let go of his hand, nearly frowning at the loss of warmth. It wasn’t blizzard cold, but it was enough for you to see your breath when you exhaled. As a girl, you liked to pretend you were smoking a cigar right along with the conman; merely breathing out of your mouth while he exhaled smoke through his nose. 

You and the Earl fit well on Autumn’s back, who made no effort to protest against your additional weight. 

“My Lord,” Sebastian said, handing the reins to the male before you. You noted that he had no horse prepared for himself and frankly, you didn’t care to ask why. Sebastian accompanied his master at nearly every hour. Following you and his master on foot wouldn’t be a feat that surprised you, at this point. “We should arrive at Richmond Park before a quarter after three.” By the last time you looked at your mantle clock in your room, that would mean that the journey to the start of the trail would be a fast fifteen minutes.

“Alright. You’ll walk at least ten paces behind us- understand?” Lord Phantomhive ordered. While he was distracted with commanding his butler, you anchored your arm around his waist as you took in a sharp breath. The gesture was customary and the Earl made no effort to address it, even though you could feel the warmth in your cheeks intensify with each step that Autumn made.

. . .

As he was ordered, Sebastian remained at a considerable distance from you and Lord Phantomhive. If he felt any discomfort from walking in the powdery snow on the trail, he didn’t show it. 

You tried to keep your gaze in front of you, watching the gnarled trees on either side of the wide trail, catching the brief sight of families of deer- their hair thicker to suit the cold weather. Red squirrels jumped about the trees, chasing one another and chattering to accompany the light wind. It seemed that everything around you and the Earl was making noise to make up for the cold silence between you. The serenity of the nature surrounding you was too calm to break with needless conversation. There was no point in disturbing that peace in the first place. 

You were in the midst of preparing yourself to put an end to this long assignment. To hopefully stab the nobleman from behind and shove his body down the overlook for the vultures. Fending off Sebastian wasn’t any sort of daunting task, considering his physique suggested that he was just as lithe as his master. You were trained to take down opponents such as him. 

“We’re nearing the overlook,” Lord Phantomhive said, speaking over the ‘who’ of a snow owl perched on a bare branch above. The bird quickly flew away and you looked up to watch it go, only for the momentum of its push off to cause the bits of snow to fall down onto you. You squeaked in surprise as the snow fell on your hair and down your face, the cold snapping you out of your daze. 

You attempted to pat the flurries off of your head and face with your free hand, pausing when the Earl looked over his shoulder to figure the source of your awkward noise. “I-Is something wrong?” he asked as he squared his shoulders once again. The motion drew attention to the way your arm squeezed tightly around his waist, which was another result of your moderate scare. The intensity of it caused him to stutter, considering you were unaware of your own strength in a barest reaction. You loosened your grip instantaneously. 

“Only some falling snow,” you briefly met his eye before facing your front once again. “You scared off the owl by speaking so abruptly.” You didn’t need to see the Earl’s face to have a vague idea of his vexed expression. 

“Look ahead,” Lord Phantomhive changed the subject tersely, gesturing to the nearling cliff with a slight nod of his head.

“I see it,” you squinted at the bright glare of sunlight that stared you in the face and reflected off the white snow. The trail had been leading upwards for the bulk of the time, carving a safe route up and down a hill. As you neared closer, Lord Phantomhive pulled on the reins, telling Autumn to stop her slow pace. 

After dismounting himself, the Earl took your hand in order to help you down once again. Your boots sank in the loose snow, although it was only a few inches deep. It hindered each step that you took as you allowed Lord Phantomhive to pass you to inspect the height of the overlook. You followed in suit, methodically stepping in the tracks that his riding boots made in the snow. 

The valley before you was quite a sight to behold. The setting sun casted an orange hue in the sky, pulling out all kinds of pink and purple dimensions in the grey clouds and sky. A thick forest was below, coated in snow and likely rustling with life as the hill was. You could barely see it over the nobleman’s shoulder as you faced his back. Sebastian was occupied with fastening Autumn to a nearby tree, his back turned from you.

“The sun seems to be setting already. I don’t remember this trail being so long,” Lord Phantomhive commented, putting his hands into the deep pockets of his navy overcoat. The color matched yours and you couldn’t help but briefly wonder if that was a coincidence or not.  

“Perhaps it was the speed...or, lack thereof,” you suggested, only half-listening to his sentiment. You were staring at his back, quickly running through all of your options.

“If we went any faster, you might’ve lost your balance, Your Highness,” you could hear the smirk in his patronizing tone.

The most efficient way to kill the Earl would be aiming for the base of his neck to sever his spinal cord. However, it was much easier said than done, since it was placed in a clever spot within the vertebrae, otherwise, the bones that made up the spinal column. Between these vertebrae were intervertebral discs- tough, spongy material that cushions the joints, in severing the spinal cord, you needed to cut between the vertebrae and through the disc in a single stab. 

The conman marked the exact spot on his own neck for you dozens of times; outlining the steps quite clearly. Once his gaze left you, you bent down to pull your knife out of your boot by the handle and stood back up, your free hand patting at your skirts to fix them. Your heart rate increased as you slowed to a stop, engaging the blade of your knife by holding it flat. 

“Sebastian, have you brought any refreshments along?” Lord Phantomhive asked.

It was your quick reflexes that led you to shove your knife into your pocketbag, keeping your hand steady on the handle. You showed yourself to the Earl’s side as you bit the inside of your lip. The opportunity was wasted, which was equally disappointing and frustrating. You’d need to either bide your time and find another chance or follow through at that moment. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Sebastian approached you with a familiar tray and two teacups of steaming tea. You couldn’t recall him bringing any of the items, much less the big tray. He was walking behind the horse with empty hands and there were no pouches draped over her back. Odd. “Black Chai Masala; imported straight from Assam, India. This particular selection is served with a combination of milk and a spoonful of sweetener.”

Rather than drink yet another foreign tea, you would have opted for a large glass of hot chocolate. The conman added several teaspoons of milk and mixed it into the boxed mix and water and on top, he added a combination of whipped egg whites and powdered sugar on top. A proper meringue, he called it. As a girl with a demon-like sweet tooth, you demanded it year round- even during the spring and summer. After he was killed, you did everything you could to recreate the taste, but it was never quite right and eventually, you gave up. The despair that came from purchasing the same brand of mix, Baker’s Breakfast neared your capacity for grief.

If Sebastian could offer you a glass of Baxter’s hot chocolate, then you’d happily give up your knife and simply disappear from his master’s life in exchange. But instead, you were holding a cup of Black Chai Masala from India, rather than hot chocolate made from a mix that came in a short tin can.

You stared at the porcelain cup in your hands and rather than drinking it immediately, you simply enjoyed the warmth that seeped through your gloves. 

“Is it not to your liking, Your Highness?” Sebastian was asking you why you had yet to sip from your tea in the most demure way possible. Turning to look at him, you took a long drink from the cup, meeting his gaze from the second your mouth made contact with the rim, to the moment you swallowed. The taste was aromatic and smooth, the robust of the chai’s cinnamon standing out to your taste buds. 

“It’s fine,” you offered a halfhearted shrug as you faced your front once again. The winter scenery was much more appealing than Sebastian was. Although he was a dashing man, there was an unsettling countenance to him that you couldn’t quite name. “However, I feel that sweeter drinks are more suitable for this weather. Such as hot chocolate.”

“Hot chocolate,” the Earl repeated, his tone warmer than you anticipated. You were expecting a sardonic chortle, or even a long side glance. “That’s a favorite of mine as well.”

“I’ll keep your preference in mind. Thank you,” Sebastian bowed after the Earl took his tea cup off of the server in the butler’s hands.

. . .

FEBRUARY 3RD, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

You watched the mantle clock slowly tick, the thinnest hand marching around the circumference of the face. It changed the time from 11:59 pm to 12:00 am, evidently signifying the start of a new day. February 3rd. The date that made it officially four years since the conman was murdered. Four years since you killed two men, Pete and James, in defense of your innocence. 

You already felt empty like a ghost, and you were merely seconds into the day. Rolling onto your back, you let out a long, dismayed sigh. Sleep wasn’t an option and you knew it from the moment you attempted to close your eyes. 

The foyer was one of the best rooms in the entire estate, besides your personal quarters. The fireplace was surrounded by loveseats and cushioned sofas and you preferred the smallest couch that was the furthest away from the door. It was brown and upholstered with leather and the soft cushions paired nicely with the thick blanket that normally hung over the armchair. Sitting there, surrounded by the uncovered windows of the room was the safest option for you and the dark mindset you knew you were headed towards. 

February 3rd never treated you well and the best you could do was attempt to make it less terrible.

You took your newest book off the nightstand and headed into the corridor. The foyer wasn’t far from your room, it was down the hall and the main staircase and finally, to the left. The way was rather clear with lanterns and candelabras keeping the entirety of the manor free of darkness, which was likely a silent courtesy to you. Under your feet, the wooden flooring was cold and it whined with each quick step you took, much to your dismay. You had no need to summon Lord Phantomhive out of his quarters. You could see a vague light through his open door, which was unusual for the hour. 

In fact, finding the Earl covered in a fleece blanket in the foyer was even more unusual. There was a book open in his lap and a steaming glass in his left hand while his right tugged on the corner of the next page of his book, ready to flip. He seemed to be nursing a glass of hot chocolate- the sweet aroma was as clear as day next to the smell of smoke from the tamed fireplace. You were prepared to light it yourself, but for once, it was you who lingered in the doorway. Normally, Lord Phantomhive required permission to enter from you and although by rank, you were able to do as you pleased, it felt wrong to plop down on the leather sofa and recline without a single turn of phrase. 

“It’s rather late to be wandering about, Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive commented without needing to look up from his book. The fleece blanket was placed over his lap and it was large enough to cover his legs, down to the floor. He was dressed down in another oversized shirt, this one a beige or ecru, rather. It made you more aware of your pink nightgown, this one was puffier than most of them, with a droopy bow in the middle of the neckline, covering your sternum. It covered more than the shift you wore on February 3rd, 1888. If you had worn this opulent pink gown to sleep, you might’ve been warmer before it was pulled off of you. 

Your pulse raced. “It’s rather late to be reading, Lord Phantomhive,” you smarted to make up for your mouth running dry. You appreciated the company, even if it was only the Earl Phantomhive, your target- your victim. 

“I’ll have Sebastian fix you a glass as well,” the Earl’s gaze was still on the text and he slipped the page over. You took his leisure as a gesture to claim your usual seat, which was next to the tall armchair he picked for himself. “He makes a respectable hot chocolate.”

You pulled the blanket over yourself, finding the fabric significantly warmed by the fire. It felt lovely against your clammy skin and the cold draft that came from the window behind you and the nobleman. “I wouldn’t doubt it,” your eyes followed his hand as he gave a small bell three rings, briefly exchanging it for his hot chocolate. It was the first time he looked away from that book and he validated your response with an occupied ‘mhm’. 

Under your blanket, you pulled your legs up on the cushion to cross, the left bending under the right. You opened your book, The Tell-Tale Heart by American author and poet, Edgar Allan Poe. Ironically, it was more gruesome for your taste in literature, but in passing conversation with Lord Phantomhive, you concluded that he had quite a brooding taste in fiction. It matched the readings that Governess Lydia piled on your desk as a child, when you had barely learned to read German, much less English. Apparently, she likes her royal heirs properly dulled out by the time they came of age to matter.

“What are you reading?” you questioned, allotting Lord Phantomhive another quick glance to the side while you allowed yourself to lean comfortably against the sofa’s arm. “It must be fascinating if your conversational skills are so lackluster.” You leaned over, tilting away from the small table where he kept his glass of hot chocolate and the bell he used to summon his butler. A familiar illustration covered the entire left page. It was a tall woman, clad in all white, with two polar bears at either of her sides. There was a tall crown on her head, matching the long, regal scepter in her hand. The Snow Queen.

“I see. Children’s tales,” you commented, stealing the Earl’s previous words to twist at him to suit this particular conversation. 

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive turned to look at you, “with all due respect, why don’t you focus on your own book?” The orange hues of the fire that was in front of the both of you lit up his face, strategically hiding a faint flush from your sight. His mouth was settled in his natural frown and the bit of space between his eyebrows was wrinkled. The look. Everytime he regarded you like that, it was a minor cause for amusement that ebbed the pain of your past. Teasing the Earl was a comforting distraction; as were the warm blanket, fireplace and hot chocolate. 

Was it selfish to want to live in this luxury for at least a few more days?

No.

It wasn’t.

“Mr. Edgar Allan Poe doesn’t strike my interest at this hour,” you responded, skimming over the line of the page you left off on in your last session of reading.  “The Tell-Tale Heart is only about the guilt in sin. The theme is clear and personally, all the extra words are just a bother.” 

‘Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief…’

“The words are a bother? It’s meant to be poetic,” Lord Phantomhive protested as he closed his own book to properly judge you. You never would have guessed that he was younger than you, even if the difference was only a slim two years. He had the taste of a seventy year old- a senior of whom you’d normally expect to run a business, head a household and carry out the wishes of the Queen. 

“Making the thought process of a murderer poetic,” you mused, flipping the page once more. Your mentality looked nothing like this and you’ve done plenty more than killing an old man and stuffing him under the floorboards. There was no guilt to your conscience because every individual you’ve eradicated deserved it for crimes far worse than the hand of justice. “Ironic, is it not?”

“That’s the point. All the guilt in the universe cannot bring that old man back, much less the excess prose,” the Earl turned back to his book and opened it again, sensing that you were finished with the discussion by your lack of response. 

Sebastian soon came with hot chocolate for you, moments after he came to ask why his master summoned him. He was rather slow to come, in comparison to the seconds it took him to appear at any other moment, but rather than questioning this, you simply accepted your hot chocolate with a nod. 

Naturally, it wasn’t like the conman’s, but the chocolate was quite sweet and even the heavy cream gathered on your lips. The sugar did nothing to stave off the new, comfortable sensation that had your eyelids heavy and back slouching against the arm of your chair. It was completely silent in the foyer; save for the sound of the Earl turning pages of his book and the soft clink of his glass when he put it back on the table between you. Navigating Edgar Allen Poe’s complex words in this state was a lost cause as you grew more drowsy by the second, until you, albeit reluctantly, finally succumbed to a light slumber.

. . .

“Your Highness,” Lord Phantomhive’s voice coaxed you out of your comfortable sleep. You blinked several times before you could clearly see his face in front of yours, a respectful distance away, but at a peculiar level. The Earl was bent down to properly meet your eyes as opposed to looking down at you. Behind him, the fire was dying- the orange embers hidden within the burned wood. The glow made his dark hair look blue, such as the complexion of a fresh bruise, or of the navy riding dress that you wore on the trail five days ago. “We should be retiring about now. It’s rather late.”

“...What time is it?” You reluctantly sat up, cringing at the new soreness in the side of your neck and your shoulder for napping at such an odd angle. Your head used the plush arm of the chair as a pillow, while the rest of your body curled into a ball on the seat portion of the lovechair. Even your knees protested as you straightened them out, your eyebrows knitting in discomfort. 

“A quarter past two,” Lord Phantomhive stood to his full height and waited for you to follow in suit. His book, The Snow Queen sat closed on the table, his cardstock bookmark resting on top of it. He must have finished the book while you slept. 

“A quarter past two?” You repeated, taken aback while you stood at your feet. The feeling of your own weight on your feet almost felt foreign- odd, along with the cold, solid floor rug beneath you . “Have you been reading that all night?”

“I finished it early on and proceeded to pick up where you left off in The Tell-Tale Heart. I don’t know how you could fall asleep instead of read it.”

“I explained it to you already, my Lord,” besides, it was in English. Poe’s intermingling sentences managed to confuse you now and then, considering you learned the bulk of the language through listening to others on the streets. Middle-class individuals rarely used so many sentences to portray a single idea. Not to mention, the topic disturbed you. It was as if Poe had killed someone and fully knew of the mental obstacles a murderer faces. 

“Shall I show you to your quarters?” Lord Phantomhive opened the door of the foyer open for you, leaving the cozy room a mess for Mey-Rin or Sebastian to tidy in a few hours. The hallway was still properly lit for you, which made the layout of the manor much less foreboding as you could see where the corridor led. Uncertainty was the silent killer, after all.  

“Would you?” although you were in a surprisingly good mindset considering the date, you had minimal faith that it would continue. If you coil hold onto some peace for the night by allowing the Earl to accompany you, it was worth trying- whether it came from a place of having someone to speak to or merely distracting yourself. 

“...Certainly,” the hesitation in front of Lord Phantomhive’s words expressed that  he was merely asking as a formality and didn’t expect you to accept the offer. The brief raise of his eyebrows supported that observation and once he noticed that you were staring, he dropped the expression altogether.

. . .

FEBRUARY 14TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Valentine’s Day- the single most oversold holiday in the world. One that all kinds of companies used to fish money out of men to impress their lovers for the sole purpose of making money. It was a corporate strategy, at most, and yet, the entire world was in love with it. February 14th was the one day out of the whole year where nearly everyone was inexplicably- unbearably, nice. 

Naturally, the Phantomhive servants were no excuse. Mey-Rin was somehow, more bubbly than normal- her face was already pink when she woke you that morning and the shade only deepened until you were finally sitting at the breakfast table, where two letters sat on top of your empty place setting. 

“These arrived in the postage for you this morning, Your Highness!” Mey-Rin exclaimed, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out what worked her up so much. What could be so special about two letters?

“Alright,” you eyed the woman once again as you took your seat, causing her to giggle. As per usual, Lord Phantomhive was late to breakfast, which left his dense pile of correspondences high. It hadn’t taken you long to recognize that this communal breakfast took time out of his morning and out of pity, you decided to allow him work through all of his letters and notes as he ate with you. The minor convenience significantly lifted the jaded chip that resided on his shoulder, although you knew that there was no way it would vanish completely. The chip on the Earl’s shoulder was as constant as yours. 

You opened the letter on top and squinted at the miniscule script in the middle of it, the textbook handwriting reading, ‘Prince Aribert of Anhalt, House of Ascania, an Princess Marie-Louise of Schleswig-Holstein’. There was no address on it, which led you to presume that it went through the Queen, who had it hand-delivered to one of the Phantomhive servants. Marie’s location was only supposed to be disclosed to Lord Phantomhive (and his staff), the Queen, and the royal family. That would explain why the letter under the one you picked up was signed by the Queen.

“It’s from your fiancé- oh, I mean, His Highness! On Valentine’s Day! What could it be?” Mey-Rin’s squealing interrupted your train of thought, causing you to briefly look at her. She was staring at the unopened envelope in your hands with the intent a coroner would inspect a dead body. The analogy was…creepy, but for this purpose, it worked. 

Slowly, you tore the seal that kept the envelope closed and pulled out the card. The whole of it was a shade of baby pink, reading ‘Eine Botschaft zum Valentinstag’ (A Valentine’s Day Message) in white block letters under a drawing of two doves, sitting on a barren tree branch. On top of both the doves and the brand was lace, sitting on top of the illustrations to make them stand out against the pink background. The cover also served as an envelope in of itself, the top splitting open to expose a shallow patch, but for the time being, you ignored it. You couldn’t help but wonder how much this specialty valentine cost- and which servant of Prince Aribert’s ordered it. 

Inside the card was a small piece of paper and a dried white alstroemeria. It was Marie’s favorite flower- she always had a bouquet of it in her quarters, simply sitting next to a window and thriving in water. She adored the little specks of purple on the petals because they gave an objectively boring plant character. You could recognize an alstroemeria anywhere. The fact that this accurate detail was sent was...unsettling, but even so, you gave the flower a sniff to enjoy it’s remaining scent.

You set the flower aside, allowing Mey-Rin to gaze at it from across the table while you picked up the paper. 

“Oh, please read it, Your Highness?” She interrupted once again, clearly not noticing the annoyance on your face each time she spoke.

With a sigh, you obliged. Translating from German to English on the spot wasn’t preferable, but you were more than capable of it. “Sonnet 138: When my love swears that she is made of truth,” your face immediately grew warmer as you read the sonnet, some of the pronunciations causing you to stutter. “Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.”

Just as Edgar Allen Poe overstated the mentality of a murderer, William Shakespeare over complicated love with too many words. Poets all seem to be idealists, viewing the word under the same passion-stained lenses that the common public did on February 14th.

You heard Lord Phantomhive coming before he stopped at the threshold like clockwork, since this occurred at the same time each morning. Still, you continued to read, finishing out the sonnet in one strangled breath, even though it was meant to be read slowly. However, you could bring yourself to inhale and pause when the punctuation called for it- graceful sexual innuendos were far beyond your comfort zone. “Therefore I lie with her and she with me, and in our faults by lies we flattered be. Shakespeare, 1590.”

Quickly, you put the paper down, half-tempted to tear it to shreds right in front of Mey-Rin’s adoring gaze. She was acting as if the prince had written it himself when truthfully, the most creativity he showed was picking a sonnet from the famous poet and copying it, word for word. At least there was credit where it was due. From what you remembered, Prince Aribert wasn’t much of a wordsmith as a nine year old. 

“What a romantic His Highness is!” Mey-Rin sighed, answering most of Lord Phantomhive’s unsaid questions. As you tipped your fingers into the pocket between the card’s cover and the card’s inner lining, you were met with a small satin pouch. Inside of it was predictably, an expensive pair of dangly earrings. Each earring had a large emerald, carved into a teardrop shape and set in gold. The gem matched your family ring, an attempt to show how much the prince paid attention to Marie.

“Yes. The gesture was rather thoughtful,” you aquised, mostly to encourage Mey-Rin to stop hovering as you returned the earrings to their pouch, since you were already wearing simple pearls in your ears. Their simplicity matched the deep magenta of your gown, complimenting the silver decorations that covered the sides of the outermost petticoat and long sleeves. The pink was appropriate, given the day. Even the Earl’s color palette was altered somewhat; his preference for cold color palettes was replaced with a burgundy vest layered over a white button down shirt. You had never seen him wear any shade of brown until that day, and yet, his tan suit jacket matched the ensemble rather well. 

The Earl took his seat at the dining table without your word of acceptance- you had done away with the extra formality at the beginning of the week, finding it pointless. You set each of Aribert’s gifts to the side- the dried flower, the earrings and the copied sonnet- for the favor of opening the letter from Her Majesty.  

“Good morning,” Lord Phantomhive sorted through his own mail, which was also placed on his plate. However, he didn’t open any of the letters and instead, started writing on a blank piece of stationery. 

You tensed upon reading your name at the top of the paper, rather than Marie’s.

‘Y/n. Was I not clear in expressing that timing is of the essence? Your arrival date was January 17th and today is Valentine’s Day- February 14th. I hope you have a-’

You folded the paper and carelessly shoved it back into the envelope where it came from. The familiar handwriting was enough for you to comprehend that it was from Doña, rather than Queen Victoria. Disguising it as a message from Her Majesty was a keen idea, considering it wouldn’t be suspicious for you to want to read a message from your grandmother in private.

“Good morning,” you ignored the Earl’s stare that followed the abruptness of you folding the letter and violently shoving it into the envelope, causing it to wrinkle Instead, you plucked a warm bread roll out of the basket in front of you. The plum marmalade to your side would pair nicely with cinnamon and the hot chocolate that clouded the thin glass to your right. Sebastian had the table set with breakfast before you entered, which was quite seldom, considering the enjoyment he got out of introducing everything he created. 

The butter knife in your hand felt heavier as you cut the roll in half, what with Doña’s reminder. She was an impatient woman and you had guaranteed that Lord Phantomhive would be dead within a week after you arrived. Now, you were three days short of a month at the estate and as much as you hated yourself for it, you felt nothing but refreshed- both physically and mentally. You were supposed to be stronger than this.

While you spread the plum marmalade over each half of the roll, it was entertaining to watch Lord Phantomhive write and rewrite over and over again. He was invested in what he was attempting to articulate to the point that he was ignoring his breakfast, which was also seldom for him to do. His cheeks were growing red as he folded his third paper and tossed it to the slide with the other discarded ones. 

“Just what are you so amused by?” Lord Phantomhive gritted at you, his words strained as he stared at the blank paper that sat under its predecessor. 

“What are you attempting to write?” You set the butter knife down, fighting considerably against an amused smile. The Earl never struggled this much with business letters or correspondences with the Yard- and it was Valentine’s Day.

“...It’s nothing-,” he mumbled, the lie as clear as day.

“-A valentine for Lady Midford,” you interrupted, causing him to frown at you.

“...Fine, yes, that’s what it is. Sebastian is preparing the rest of her gifts and yet, he refused to complete this part for me,” he admitted ruefully as if the words pained him to say. It made you think about Prince Aribert’s valentine to your dead sister and how he simply copied the words of Shakespeare and it was enough to convince Mey-Rin that he was a good man. At least Sebastian was encouraging his master to put some effort in.

“The rest of her gifts?” You raised an eyebrow, awaiting his response as you took a decent bite out of the half of bread. Before taking another taste, you gave the cinnamon shaker a few good jolts to allow its contents to dust over the plum marmalade. 

“Her favorite chocolates from Switzerland and a necklace. Sebastian picked it.”

“There’s a compilation of Shakespeare’s sonnets in your library,” you informed the Earl, allowing him to gauge the sentiment’s relevance on his own- which didn’t take long. 

“...Right. Would you excuse me for a moment?” Lord Phantomhive asked, standing from his seat before you could approve. Although he wasn’t any taller than the average male (you tended to forget that he was only seventeen), he still had a few inches on you, even without the heeled boots he tended to wear. 

“Yes, go,” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his ineptness. Lord Phantomhive knew less about romance than you did and that was quite a difficult feat. 

When the Earl returned, you finished most of the bread roll and half of your hot chocolate. His was practically cold chocolate at this point and you intended to mention that, before he spoke first, reading out of the open book you directed him to. 

“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date,” he read slowly, taking his seat at the table once again, leaving the book open as he put it down. “That’s a part of sonnet number eighteen.”

You picked up the book and skimmed the whole of the sonnet for yourself. 

‘But thy eternal summer shall not fade, nor lose possession of that fair ow’st.’

“It suits her,” you commented, considering the simile that Shakespeare was making from summer to the subject of the sonnet. “But...I think she’d appreciate it more if you went and saw her today,” you thought quickly, this suggestion coming from a residual need to enter and go through Lord Phantomhive’s study. The smooth cover- pretending to care about his relationship with his cousin- was a tactful one. The conman would be proud of you for suggesting it, since it seemed like it would benefit the Earl more than you. He’d focus on his own benefit, being inherently greedy.

“Go see her?” Lord Phantomhive repeated as you gave the book back to him to have him begin writing the sonnet down on a fresh piece of paper. From your perspective, you could see ‘Sonnet Eighteen- Shakespeare’ written in large, swooping letters on top of the rest of the stanza that he was in the midst of rewriting.

“Yes. Go with your gifts and surprise her,” you explained. “Must I spell it out?”

The Earl looked as if he wanted to protest, or pretend like he had the grounds to protest the proper way to a lady’s heart by ignoring the suggestion of one. He thought better of it after a moment and the back of his pen hit the paper, as his grip on it diminished. Wasn’t the point of this to garner her affections, or at least express his own?

“I suppose you do have a point, Your Highness.” Lord Phantomhive admitted, quite begrudgingly, his fair complexion moderately pink.

. . .

As you predicted, Sebastian accompanied his master to Lady Midford’s estate within the heart of the city, leaving you in the care of Mey-Rin, Baldroy and Finny for the rest of the day. Since the servants were busy with tasks from Sebastian (you presumed, since they were all around the perimeter of the property), you entered the Earl’s study and shut the door behind you. 

The walls were lined with books and similar to Doña’s office, there was a large bay window behind the desk chair. However, the surface of his desk itself was mostly clear, save for a pile of papers and small bowls of pen ink. 

The paper on top of the disheveled pile was a letter, signed by Cooper Finley, a name that you recognized from your moderate ties with the crime world. He was no one worth your time, a business owner that employed grave robbers to steal riches (and bodies) out of graves. Fresh bodies sold at high prices to doctors and medical students who wanted to learn more about the human body and run labs. The Undertaker made plenty of money off of Finley too, taking bribes to turn the other cheek when aided in funerals that buried empty coffins.

The letter that you picked up was wrinkled on either side of the page from being held too hard. The paper was only a pull away before tearing in half, even though the date said that it was only two days old. 

‘Lord Phantomhive. I must request another meeting regarding the cost I allow my services to be used at. What with coal for fuel, repair, staffing and other major impediments (pirate infested waters, if I may be so blunt), cause me to request a higher recompense for carrying the Funtom Company’s products across the North Atlantic. Might I remind you of the high profits you make off of the hopeful children of America? I’ll be in London at the end of the week.’

Finley was just another greedy business owner, the same as Keating and Wright. Lord Phantomhive’s affiliation with him should have put him under the same category, although you found yourself disdainfully reluctant to convince yourself of that. Perhaps, there were no other options. The idea of Finley owning every single steamship meant for cargo wasn’t wholly absurd- the entire world of business was composed of monopolists. 

With a sigh, you put the letter down and proceeded to look at the papers that were underneath it. These were records of pay, written out with a typewriter and dating back to the April of 1891. The payment started low at one-thousand and eight hundred pounds for fifty boxes of cargo- three pounds per box and an extra charge for the six week voyage, with money to go towards coal. According to this record, it started to increase by one hundred pounds a month shortly after, and grew to an extra five hundred by December of 1891.  

The most recent payment was for January, 1892 for two-thousand and three hundred pounds; which led you to understand why the Earl came out of his business meetings in such a foul mood; Cooper Finley was outwardly conning him and there wasn’t anything he could do about it, if he wanted to keep Funtom products on the shelves of America.

You put all of the papers back in their pile and promptly found that each drawer in the desk was locked- and with no key in sight, which ended your little search prematurely.

 . . .

Doña wasn’t a woman that scared you. She caked on too much red lipstick and only wore beige- her stature was lithe and thin. You could easily kill her if you wanted to and at least a few times, you have wanted to. 

But, when she insisted on having a meeting at a residence in London to talk about how the Earl- Ciel Phantomhive- was still alive when he should have been murdered weeks ago, you were to go. She was your employer, after all. The woman who paid for every dress and jewel you wore to properly play the part of a princess, on top of promising you a hefty sum, by the end of it. On the assumption you could manage to end it.

The moment Mey-Rin shut the door of your room for the night, you sprung out of bed and began to change out of your nightgown, and into one of the riding habits that were packed with you. This number was a stormy grey for the most part, which made your black riding boots the accessory shade. Riding habit was the easiest to put on without the assistance that you were growing so accustomed to. 

You had read a letter that you received at breakfast merely moments after the plates of your dinner were whisked away from your room. You requested to eat at your personal desk, since the Earl, as well as Sebastian, were staying at the Midford’s estate for the night. It was a letter of summons from Doña for you to meet her in the city at an address that you didn’t recognize and with Sebastian and Lord Phantomhive away for the night, your best option was to bite the bullet and get it over with.

The night was cold enough to make your gloves useless, which caused your hands to tremble as you held onto the reins of the horse you were already acquainted with, Autumn. With each gallop she made, down the stone pathway that led to the main door of the estate (you had opted for exiting through your quarter’s window), your body tensed. Your nose was red from the biting wind and simply by the heavy air, you suspected that it was going to snow that night. The snow added yet another sense of urgency to this outing.

You were smart to have paid attention to the route that Sebastian drove to the Globe Theater, which was in the heart of the city. The conman liked to say that preemptive moves often separated success and failure. 

“Good girl,” you praised Autumn as she skillfully ignored distractions that increased marginally as the forest lightened around you, transforming into the cobblestone streets and cement walkways of London. She handled the surprise of it better than you did, considering this was your first time in London- alone- in a month. You never knew that you could miss the smell of smoke, or the tall streetlights that kept the streets well lit, not that there were many carriages out at this hour. Even the Globe Theater was completely dark and as for the shops, there wasn’t a soul to be found, which was fine. You didn’t need any distractions as you followed the signage to the proper street and the numbers to a small, brick residence that resembled the Calverts’ home in Birmingham. There was a single lamp over the threshold, unlike the other homes that were shoulder to shoulder to it.

Hesitantly, you slid off Autumn’s back and held onto the reins to keep her close while you put the brass knocker on the door to good use. Someone had better answer before you kicked down the barrier by yourself. You were generally impatient, and the longer you had to wait in the cold, the crankier you grew, which unfortunately, reminded you of a certain nobleman’s temperament.

. . .

Tags:

#ciel phantomhive #ciel x reader #black butler #black butler fanfic #strangers to lovers #anime fanfiction #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive x reader #murder #angst #historical fiction #historical romance #victorian era #the indignant pawn #the extent of language

[chazukekani]

Analysis - The Chain of Salvation (Dark Era)

I personally is not a hardcore Dark Era fans because I genuinely like exciting and joyful stories, but it is undeniable that the Dark Era is incredibly important to the whole BSD plot. Asagiri, together with Bones really nailed the Dark Era. The final product of the animation really brings a ‘Dark Era vibe’ that none of us can escape after watching it. There are few reasons that I consider why the Dark Era is important.

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①It brings out the theme of salvation.

We all know that salvation is a core theme of BSD, and mainly portrayed via the relationship of Dazai, Atsushi and Kyouka in canon. In fact, the ‘chain of salvation’ was started by Odasaku, and I consider this man the perfect candidate to start with this chain because he had a tough story. In Novel Vol. 3 (yes, the founding of ADA), Odasaku killed as if Dazai. Odasaku assassinated aimlessly in accordance to orders without soul, which he had no idea of what his reasons of living were. But he was lucky enough to meet Natsume-sensei, and able to realise his ‘guilt’ of his previous actions. Such realisation finally led him to the side of kindness.

I think the reason why Odasaku told Dazai to go to the bright side is that, not only Dazai was his friend, but perhaps Odasaku saw his old self in Dazai, which he hoped Dazai would acquire the same realisation as he did in the future. It shows that regardless of how tough and sorrowful that Odasaku had been through, he was able to realise the importance of saving others, and managed to insist his morale through his uncrushable determination and discipline by fulfilling ‘not to kill’. It portrays that everyone was able find a reasons of living through countless struggle and strong will.

Switching from killing to helping others, Odasaku first senses the happiness and satisfaction of helping others, especially through the five orphans that he adopted. The ‘compensation’ of his previous guilt allow Odasaku spread the good deeds of saving others to his best friend Dazai, whom had a similar past as he did. The whole process of inheriting the will of Odasaku to Dazai, then to Atsushi and Kyouka is as if ‘a lantern of salvation’, where they pass the good deeds and belief to others. That’s why by putting Odasaku as the ‘founder of salvation society’, it gives a bigger picture of the story, and further consolidate the theme of salvation by telling readers about the origin of it.

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② Dark Era further introduces Dazai’s character.

Do you realise that Asagiri actually never directly describe the thoughts within Dazai? I remember Asagiri once wrote in twitter that even himself, as the author, doesn’t know what Dazai is thinking in his mind. So I think the alternative way in portraying Dazai’s personality is through an indie text way.

By describing how other characters think, see and perceive Dazai, we know what kind of person is. Such indirect portrayal makes Dazai a special character. It also adds a sense of mystery of him (as Mamo said). Let me give you some example: in canon, we mostly understand Dazai through the perspective of Atsushi and Kunikida, because these two are the one who have most interactions with Dazai. They together  portray the happy, silly, disorganised Dazai that we know (sort of).

Likewise in Dark Era, we know the dark side of Dazai through Odasaku and Ango’s impression. So, we seldom get a direct description of Dazai’s personality, but only via other’s impression and comment. Dazai is a sophisticated person. None of us, even Asagiri don’t know how to correctly portray Dazai’s thought. Hence, by creating a story that is completely different from the canon line, Dark Era brings a completely different Dazai that we know in canon, and I think it further reveals the mystery of him.

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③ It lays down a foundation of the future story.

Ango is now the communicator of Dazai in the prison, and this role is crucial to the plot in recent chapters.

Even in previous era with guild, the relationship of Dazai and Ango also serves as a lubricant to the story as their personal relationship facilitates a cooperation between the agency and the government. Having a personnel in the government brings the story into a wider perspective. So their relationship is really helpful in moving the plot forward.

You may now hate me for viewing Dazai-Ango relationship as a mere ‘story-moving machine’, but please allow me to continue. I think Ango also helps to portray a bright side of Dazai. Because Ango used to think that Dazai doesn’t forgive him but actually Dazai already does long time ago, it shows the humbleness of Dazai. The willingness of Ango to return Dazai’s favour and assist him in recent chapters also demonstrate the kindness and loyalty of Ango.

In addition, such actions of Ango is also crucial in recent chapters because he is able to demonstrate an independent thinking despite the whole government are against the ADA. Therefore the motivation of Ango helps to further strengthen the core themes of the Sky Casino Era - The Truth (see my previous analysis). You may think that the cooperation between Dazai and Ango, as well as the smoothness of recent chapters as granted, but it actually cannot be demonstrated without the existence of Dark Era. Dazai and Ango in fact have a similar motivation, where they wanted to compensate their past. It thus nurtures the collaboration between them, and hence they can help each other in fulfilling their own aims.

That’s why I think Dark Era is really really important to BSD because the Dark Era effect is still affecting the story nowadays. Without Dark Era, we will never come across the story that we know today.

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Another little thoughts about Dark Era is actually the portrayal of Lupin Bar.

As you can see from previous post, that the personnel in Lupin Bar changes, where there was three, two, and now only one person in the bar. I think the venue of Lupin Bar symbolises Dazai’s heart in certain extent, where he had his two best friends initially, and the ‘betrayal’ of Ango made Odasaku left on Dazai’s heart. With now, where time and circumstances changes, only Dazai was left alone in his heart again. It was indeed devastating to see that two of Dazai’s important friends leave ‘his heart’ in a short period, and now Dazai is left alone again, but I also consider this as another potential in Dazai’s character development. Lupin Bar may not only symbolises Dazai’s own heart, but also symbolises his memory and thoughts about his past. It is because in Dead Apple, you actually sees Dazai leave the bar, and determined to confront against Shibusawa’s evil plan (where the camera literally captures Dazai ‘leaving’ the bar). I consider this as an important moment because I think even though his friends had left him, Dazai has found a new aim - saving people. That’s why the scene of Dazai leaving Lupin Bar in Dead Apple may actually says that Dazai could have let go (but not forget, because Dazai has left a drink with Odasaku’s birthday flower. So I am sure that Dazai never forgets his friends) of the past, and able to move on with the new purpose in living - saving the city.

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai osamu #bsd sakaguchi ango #bsd sakunosuke oda

[urlneverheardofit]

Chapter 1: The Black Prince

So I'm working on a rewrite for my project and just put out chapter 1 2.0. Thanks to everyone who made suggestions on it

The last black dragon in all of Azeroth was residing in a faraway land, nestled in a mystical continent was a long mountain range that blocked a third of the land from the rest. In this mountain range was a series of peaks that were shrouded in mists. The peaks were home to a narrow mountain pass which in turn was home to a lone tavern. This tavern was a two-story building, had a balcony overhanging a hot spring and was heavily guarded.

This is where The Black Prince took shelter. Surrounded by trained guards and assassins sworn to protect him, in the middle of nowhere on a continent largely unheard of until recently.

The Black Prince. Such an honorable title for such a hated position.

He was a dragon.

Son of a mad king.

He was the last of his bloodline.

The Black Prince had a lot stacked against him when it came to his reputation, that madness and corruption that ran in his blood didn't help.

Still, The Black Prince, more informally known as Wrathion, did his best to alleviate the concerns of the other dragon orders, and the rest of the world. After all, his father Neltharion was not the only Aspect to go mad.

The Dragon Aspects were leaders of the different orders of dragons, called Dragonflights, and they ruled over their respective colors, while none held more power than any other.

The Red Dragonflight was charged with protecting life of all forms. They were lead by the beautiful Alexstrasza, the Life-Binder.

The Blue Dragonflight protected all the magic of the world, helping the mortal races understand and use magic themselves. They had originally been led by Malygos but after the Nexus wars and Malygos' descent to madness, the young dragon Kalecgos had taken the mantle of Spell-Weaver.

The Bronze Dragonflight were the keepers of time. They were led by Nozdormu, who, in an alternate timeline, went mad and became the Infinite but in the current present, stood proud as the Timeless One.

The Green Dragonflight were the protectors of the Emerald Dream, as well as patrons of nature itself and were lead by Ysera the Dreamer.

Finally, the Black Dragonflight, the once noble protectors of Azeroth had been corrupted, twisted to insanity. Now all the remained of them was a horrible memory of their once leader, who was originally named Neltharion the Earth Warder, but would forever be known as Deathwing. The last living fragment of the once-proud order was Wrathion himself, spared of the corruption thanks to the actions of a red dragon.

The Earth Warder, the Spell Weaver and the Infinite, all lost to madness of one form or another.

He understood, to some extent why others reacted the way they did, but he had not yet proven himself to be following in their footsteps. It was not fair to judge him for the sins of his fallen ancestors.

After Deathwing's defeat, ironically taking place on the day Wrathion hatched, the world had moved on, according to the other flights. Since the mysterious lands of Pandaria had been rediscovered in the southernmost part of the world, Wrathion had been interested in the new land. He refrained from exploring this new land himself until some years after its discovery. Partially because he had been so young and he had needed time to mature and learn what he could from his predecessors, save the insanity, of course.

He had begun his life in the mountain fortress known as Blackrock Mountain. The former lair of Nefarian, more famously known by mortals, who were responsible for his death, as Blackwing. Nefarian's lair had provided a perfect hatching ground for a black dragon whelp. With the lower level of Nefarian's lair being submerged in magma. It was in the accursed lair of his half-brother that Wrathion's studies had begun.

Nefarian, in life, and in undeath as well, had been an avid experimenter, his studies and tests had been long and painful on its draconic victims of all colors. Dragons that had been taken as captives by Blackwing's lackeys and were tormented in unspeakable fashions.

Their slow deaths had not been in vain, however, because Wrathion had been able to glean much of the study's results from Nefarian's meticulous notes. He had learned much of the history of his beloved Azeroth within those tomes.

A dozen years passed in a lair he hated even the thought of. Wrathion had noticed early on he was not growing any larger as a normal dragon would. He had also realized at the end of those years that he would need to introduce himself to mortals at some point or another and thus moved nests, knowing he needed a more suitable location for him to begin to work on transforming himself into a mortal so as to hide the fact he was, in truth, still a whelp.

Thus Wrathion had traveled to from the continent known as the Eastern Kingdoms to the continent on the Western hemisphere known as Kalimdor. Thankfully, he had recruited a blue dragon to help transport him via a portal to his destination. His new den was located in a cave that spiraled down for miles and whose mouth looked like a dragon's toothy maw. This cave had once belonged to his half-sister, known as Onyxia, who, while not the scientist that Nefarian was, and had assisted Deathwing by hatching his army of dragons instead.

He spent another six years of learning to perfect his transformation. His human form was a tall, lean human with caramel-colored skin, blazing red eyes, and long curly black hair. He even had something of a beard starting to grow in.

Despite his human form aging accordingly, for the time being, his dragon form remained a whelp. A small black scaled whelp with big red eyes and absolutely no useful natural weapons yet. Small as the day he had hatched. Still, his humanoid form looked like a grown human. So it would be child's play to fool mortals, simply do not transform into a dragon around them and none would be the wiser.

Only after he had mastered staying in his human form for extended periods of time did he set off to Pandaria. He had inherited his father's hoard and was able to fund himself a number of guards and agents. Again Wrathion enlisted the assistance of a blue dragon to simplify his transport to Pandaria. Securing a place to stay and a group of sailing mages he began to set up his studies once again. Pandaria was interesting to the dragon because after so long of isolation the secrets it may reveal to a young dragon were alluring on its own. Plus it allowed for practice interacting with mortals of all stripes.

Which brought him to the present moment. He sat alone at a sturdy wooden table with similarly crafted benches on the long sides of the furniture. To the north was an open archway to the hot spring Wrathion liked to soak in at sunset. It was as close to familiar as he got out here. In the Northeast corner was a staircase leading up to the guest chambers. East of that was a two-person bar. The tavern was staffed by a mated pair, both of the Pandaren race, who were humanoid bears for lack of a better description. The male ran the bar and the female was the one who served the food and drinks to anyone sitting at the table. Given that Wrathion was the only patron in this quaint tavern the male had busied himself with refurbishing the building to accommodate the tastes of a dragon. In the south of the room was the open doorway out in the mountain pass. He had two bodyguards who stayed at his side at all times. One was an orcish woman called Left. The other was a human woman called Right. Right guarded the door to the hot spring. Left guarded the threshold out to the mountain pass while Wrathion wandered in thought, having taken the day off after a particularly daring delve into ancient ruins.

"You have visitors," Left grunted, and shortly thereafter Wrathion heard them too. Turning and setting his elbows on the table so he could listen and watch. Many hoofbeats thundered down the gravel-road pass and stopped outside the tavern. There was shifting in equipment, the rustling of armor, and hushed voices as the mortals approached the tavern.

Wrathion didn't have to wait much longer before he could see them through the doorway. It was a patrol of about nine soldiers bearing blue and gold coloring on their otherwise undecorated white plate armor.

In the center of the organized square of the soldiers were three individuals that stood out. The first was a wolfman. He stood on two feet like a human but he was covered in shaggy gray-and-white fur from head to toe, had enlarged fangs and claws, and bore no other weapons. He wore thick leather armor, which paired well with his stern blue eyes, and his ears were flattened to his head.

The second was a hulking human man with long brown hair, deep brown eyes, and wearing heavy blue and gold armor adorned with lion head pauldrons. He carried two massive blades that were forged around globes of light, a deep scar over his eyes and nose, and a firm set scowl on his face told Wrathion he meant business.

The last was a short, slim human boy with a shock of blonde hair, eyes as blue as the sea. He wore decorative blue and golden clothing. He walked with a cane and a severe hobble yet he was clearly the youngest of the group, but he kept up well with his faster companions. He looked shy and timid, glancing around as though some unseen predator would leap out of the shadows cast by the mountain range to swallow the boy whole.

Wrathion's attention was yanked from the boy forcibly when the big human male stood in the doorway, blocking out Wrathion's view of the other two.

"Dragon," The man began in a gruff voice, gazing right into the eyes of Wrathion without flinching, "I am King Varian Wrynn of the Alliance. We come to ask for your assistance."

#world of warcraft #wrathion #anduin wrynn #anduin llane wrynn #varian #genn greymane #fanfic #dragons #fresh start #history #worldbuilding #Blackwing #Nefarian #Onyxia #deathwing #malygos #nozdormu #alexstraza #ysera #kalecgos

[newmayhem]

Reading and ranking the entire Den of Shadows series

Check out my other Den of Shadows reviews HERE.

After a year such as this one, I wanted to close it out with something fun so I spent the past month marathoning the entire Den of Shadows series- rereading the original quartet and then reading for the first time the new TDOS books. I was originally going to post reviews/reactions for each book, but that got too cumbersome. Instead, I’m doing one big post of my personal ranking so I can discuss each book and talk about the series as a whole.

Spoilers for the entire Den of Shadows series below.

Personal Ranking

I based it on several different criteria but mainly: 1) How much I enjoyed it, 2) Writing/storytelling quality, 3) If there was anything glaringly ‘problematic’ (which I’ve found is usually a big factor in how much I enjoyed it), 4) How it fits in context of the entire series.

9. Shattered Mirror It hurts to put this one last on my list because Shattered Mirror was my intro to The Den of Shadows and to ahar’s work. Reading this again as an adult was frustrating because I can see why I loved it the first time around and how most of that doesn’t hold up today. Sarah was a great main character who deserved so much better than the ending she got. It was just wall to wall rape culture and misogyny. I hated Christopher and how he was a creepy pedophilic stalker framed as a romantic hero, I hated how Nikolas got some copout backstory so he would look like a good guy even though he beat a girl to death for rejecting his brother, and I hated how Nissa was enabling both of them. I really hated that this was meant to be a racism/prejudice metaphor because that doesn’t work out when the ‘oppressed’ group does actually harm innocent people. Aside from that, I felt like the pacing was really off- the events unfold over the course of a little over a week and we’re supposed to believe that after hanging out with them twice Sarah’s developed a bond with these vampires strong enough to override the prejudice she’s been raised with since birth (and that Christopher’s in love with her). And then there’s that whole anti-climax when it turns out that the ‘villain’ was Kaleo all along, but instead of having the book end there, there’s another 20 pages where we have to watch Sarah get attacked and changed against her will and then have it framed as a happy ending. I did like that she decided to not stay with Christopher in the end, though.

8. Midnight Predator I was actually surprised by how much I liked this one because I didn’t remember anything from it at all except for like, two scenes and some character names. It felt more mature in writing style, thematic content, and aesthetics. I also liked that we got a main character who was a little older and that the world was, for the most part, very removed from the human world. It was a good way to close out the original quartet in that it touched on a lot of the themes that had been explored in the books previous. That said, I had a lot of problems with how the issue of slavery was handled and also with how victim-blamey the moral of the story turned out to be. It just didn’t sit right with me that at no point did anyone bring up the idea of, you know, ending slavery at Midnight, which Jaguar had all the power to do. I hate that we were supposed to be sympathetic towards Jaguar and treat him like a good guy because he doesn’t abuse his slaves (for reasons that center on him) like everyone else does when he easily could just...not own slaves. Tying in with the victim blaming stuff, it felt like we were supposed to be satisfied with Turquoise freeing herself but being ok with letting slavery continue. And the big character arc that leads to her getting revenge on Daryl was framed as her ‘not letting herself be a victim anymore’, which is an objectively terrible take on this issue. Aside from that, I also had issues with the pacing here. We were promised a story about Midnight and a mission to assassinate Jeshickah, but all of that goes out the window in an anti-climax about two thirds of the way through the book (and two days into the timeline), and then the rest is a plodding montage leading to a very abrupt end. I also didn’t like how Daryl was supposed to be the real villain of the story but was also portrayed as a snivelling idiot that no one liked anyway, because that lessened the impact of Turquoise finally getting up the courage to kill him.

7. Demon In My View This was a good followup to ITFOTN in that it struck a balance between being standalone and having ties to the previous book. That said, I found the tone to be surprisingly more immature. I mainly didn’t like how the main character and the antagonist were handled. Jessica, while being a great reader insert/power fantasy, wasn’t very interesting because she didn’t go through any character development or have to sacrifice anything, but still got everything she wanted in the end. Fala was too much of a buttmonkey and her motives were too weak to be taken seriously. It also didn’t sit right with me that she’s the only canonical woc so far and she’s being portrayed as this incompetent cartoon villain even though objectively, like, she does have a point. But I do love the introduction of my favorite underappreciated side character, the ultimate MVP: Caryn Smoke!

6. Token of Darkness This book had a lot going against it, mainly in that it’s the most disconnected from the other TDOS books in terms of not only characters and setting, but also with introducing beings that hadn’t been mentioned before (in text, at least). I think especially as one of the new TDOS books, it would’ve helped to at least offhandedly namedrop some people/events/places. My second problem with this book was that everything felt very underdeveloped. I loved the new characters that were introduced, but I was disappointed that we didn’t have a lot of time to get to know them. I would’ve liked to see Cooper actually start training under Ryan, I would’ve liked to learn more about the LeCoire family and what it means to be a sorcerer. I also just wanted more Delilah because she’s such a fascinating character (I loved her reckless and unapologetic ambition). Kind of like ITFOTN, I felt like this lacked an Act 2. I think the story should’ve started earlier so we could see more of the investigation part of it, so we can get all the characters together earlier and have them working together (while Delilah has her hidden agenda on the side) to figure this out and build towards that climax. Even with the pacing and development problems, this is higher on the list because I just really enjoyed it- it was light and fun and I hope we get a chance to see these characters again.

5. Poison Tree This was something that I really wanted out of a new TDOS book- it delved deeper into parts of the world that had been mentioned before- the Bruja Guilds, SingleEarth, the Mistari, and all of that serves to set the scene for Promises to Keep. The concept was this cool deconstructed/reconstructed whodunnit story. It was more complicated than the typical TDOS plot, so I appreciate the ambition. That said, the execution wasn’t great- I often had to pause and go back in order to keep the facts straight and figure out who knows what, which was distracting. Another reason why this didn’t rank higher was that for some reason, I didn’t connect as much with these characters as I have in other books. The pacing was odd, I didn’t like that it came to a point where everyone had figured the main part of the mystery out, but instead of going directly to the climax, it took a detour into relationship drama, which slowed down the momentum. I think it would’ve made more sense to put Sarik and Alysia into a situation where they were forced to work together (rather than that brief but drawn out thing with Sarik and Christian). There would’ve been more tension, conflict, and forward momentum, and because they’re the two leads that were supposed to be focused on, it would’ve felt less like a detour.

4. Persistence of Memory This was a very good return to TDOS. It feels very familiar in how the new characters fit into the world. It struck a good balance between introducing new characters and having them coexist with concepts and characters that we’ve heard of before. I felt the same spark while reading this as I felt when I first read the original quartet. Like, this entirely new book made me feel nostalgic, and that’s not to be underestimated. I really loved the two protagonists and I was very invested in both of their stories. I particularly loved Shevaun because her struggle with her fear of becoming human again is one that we don’t often see in vampire fiction. I also think both she and Adjila are the perfect embodiment of beings who’ve been around for centuries and just don’t have the same morals and boundaries that humans do. I don’t normally read these books for the romance, but both canon ships here were really well done and believable, and also paralleled each other in an interesting way. And I loved the oddly wholesome focus on found/chosen family. Also, this gets extra points for everyone dunking on Alexander every time he’s mentioned.

I didn’t rank this higher because I wished Erin was more involved in figuring out what was going on with her. I didn’t really like that after a certain point, it felt like Sassy took over as protagonist. Still, I really enjoyed it, the ending was very satisfying (I loved that it was a straight up happy/optimistic ending instead of a bittersweet or abrupt one like most of the TDOS endings had been so far).

3. Promises to Keep This was a bold ending to the series. It took a lot of guts to basically blow up the world that you spent nearly 20 years creating and I admire that. It was a really engaging story that truly showed the full extent of what ahar was capable of as a writer at that time and the full extent of what a TDOS book could be. I think this time ahar really nailed the pacing (which was something that had always been a bit shaky in the past). We got to spend enough time with Jay and get to know him (it was a good choice to have the protagonist be a character we’ve met before but could still get to know more). I liked seeing everything we’ve learned from all the previous books come together and come into play. And I especially loved that our MVP Caryn got the HEA she deserves. The little epilogues at the end were fun to read (only, I’m mad we didn’t hear anything about Risika. Especially because she does get mentioned (and we finally know that 1) she found out about what happened to her mom, and 2) she and Kaleo have active, ongoing beef over it)). It really felt like a finale, but at the same time, it felt like a new beginning and I can’t wait for new books in this post-Promises world.

This could’ve ranked higher, but I did have a problem with Brina. In terms of personality, etc., I loved her and she was fun to get to know, but I can’t get past the whole slave owner thing and how that aspect of her was handled. I wished that her character arc was more about realizing that enslaving people is objectively bad rather than having her keep pointing out Jay’s incidental hypocrisy as if it weren’t a false equivalence. Her happy ending just felt a little unearned- the only real ‘penance’ she performed wrt being a slave owner was a tacked-on apology during the ritual and a sentence about how she freed her own slaves (again, no mention of whether or not all slavery has ended), and even though she was turned human, it’s not framed as a great or permanent loss, and on top of that she also gets witch powers.

2. In The Forests of the Night I admit, this ranking is mostly based on nostalgia...but it’s still a very solid book to kick off the series, set the vibes, and introduce us to this world and what kind of series this will be. It’s not the best of the series in terms of writing quality, plot, or scope, but of the original quartet, I think ITFOTN holds up the best. For a YA book of that era, especially one written by someone of its own target demographic, this felt very mature. It wasn’t trying to talk down to its audience and that meant a lot to me. It showed me that YA could be dramatic without being overwrought, serious without being an ‘issues’ book. It tackled questions of identity, morality, faith, power, and freedom, all framed within a fast-paced revenge story. Most of all, Risika is such an interesting, complicated character and her journey was both relatable and entertaining. Of all the endings in this series, the ending of ITFOTN was the most satisfying for me in that the main character had to change and sacrifice, and in the end she got what she truly deserved even if it wasn’t entirely happy. My only complaint is that we don’t see more of Risika throughout the series, especially when there’s clearly more to her story.

1. All Just Glass The TDOS books are fine as standalones and it’s cool that each one makes it feel like whoever you’re reading about is just a small part of a bigger world, but All Just Glass shows how good it can be when we go deeper into a particular story and give it more time to develop. That said, I don’t think it would’ve been as good as it was if it was written right after Shattered Mirror. There’s a very clear improvement in writing quality and storytelling that can only come from 10 years of experience.

While it didn’t fix all the problems I had with SM (mainly, I would’ve preferred it if Sarah didn’t go back to the Ravenas in the end), AJG made a great choice in shifting to a different, more cohesive theme and illustrating it across a compelling ensemble cast. It cleverly plays on our expectations of the Vida line that were based on the limited scope of SM in order to show that contrary to what we’ve seen previously, this is actually an institution that’s in decline. The Vidas aren’t this great power ruling over the rest of the Macht witches- they’re actually these fundamentalist/extremist outliers who are on the fringes clinging to the ‘old ways’ while everyone else kind of does what they want and their decline is directly related to their obsessive adherence to tradition at all costs. What’s so great about this is that it’s not just a sequel, it’s a subversion of SM that also sets the tone of the new TDOS series in anticipation of the inevitable end.

General Notes

I loved reading these all back to back and watching ahar grow as a writer, watching the world unfold right before my eyes.

It was interesting to see the difference between the two series. I found most of the books in the new series to be generally more engaging because they’re based around a central mystery (What’s the connection between Erin and Shevaun? Who is Samantha? Who attacked SingleEarth? Who’s the shapeshifter?). I also liked that rather than shy away from mentioning technology and trying to pretend that it doesn’t exist or that we’re still in the early 2000s, ahar really leaned into it and in doing so, made the stories feel more realistic.

The original quartet was very aesthetically cohesive, it was a series of vignettes that purely aimed to explore a particular piece of the world. The new series, however, felt cohesive in that each of the books is building towards the end and showing a piece of the puzzle that sets the scene for PtK (PoM gives us more about the Tristes, ToD gives us the elementals, AJG and PT are about groups that are on the decline with their fates based on whether or not they choose to align with the rising power of SingleEarth).

On kind of a petty note, I wanted to mention how much I hate all the new covers (both for the new TDOS series and for the re-release of the original quartet) and I was really disappointed in how low-effort the marketing was for the new series. Even just reading the synopsis for PT and PtK was painful because they seemed slapped together at the last minute like no one cared. I think it was a real missed opportunity to draw in a new audience because they were coming out just as the YA boom, particularly in vampire fiction, was happening.

The biggest takeaway I got from this marathon is a huge respect and appreciation for this extensive world and cast of characters that ahar built (and then had the courage to entirely upend). I know mainstream attention isn’t everything, but I just really hope ahar gets their flowers because this is a great (and highly influential) body of work that’s so different and even ahead of its time.

Anyway, that’s my take on the series. I might make this re-read an annual thing because this was fun. Also, as I was reading, I made sure to note factual info about the world and the characters, so I’ll be making new additions/edits to the reference materials soon.

#Nyeusigrube #amelia atwater rhodes #Den of Shadows #In the Forests of the Night #Demon In My View #Shattered Mirror #Midnight Predator #Persistence of Memory #Token of Darkness #All Just Glass #Poison Tree #Promises to Keep #reviews #digressions

[obscure-sentimentalist]

for ya boi tate 2, 3, 10, 18, 30, 38, 44, 57, 64, 70, 80, 92, 100

For the original character asks

Oh, Tate, my sweet boy who wasn’t even supposed to be an original character, but evolved on his own and silently demanded that I tell his real story. He was entirely unanticipated, and now I can’t shut up about him.

Character context: Tate Merlyn, hailing from the being-reworked-and-written Distortion ‘verse. Tommy’s twin brother in a world where Malcolm decided to bring his young sons to the League of Assassins and train them for his own purposes. It takes many years for the brothers to get out, but they eventually settle back into Starling City, falling in with a certain vigilante operation and forming a tight-knit friendship (and later become roommates) with Felicity.

2. Do they like animals? Well, Tate doesn’t not like animals. However, the circumstances of his life didn’t give him a chance to have a pet, nor put him in contact with domestic animals often, and he never really let himself feel anything about that lack. At first impression, he’s ambivalent about animals.

But find him in a brighter future and give him a kitten to hold or a dog to run into on the street, and he’ll melt the second he makes eye-contact with them. Lots of soft, dopey smiles all around.

3. How do they dress? Ah, yes, a topic that honestly shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

Given that this is a universe where Malcolm is an even shittier father than in canon and has two sons who he’s shaped into his personal weapons from a young age, Tate doesn’t have a fashion sense for much of his life. When he isn’t in League uniform, his clothes are all black and gray, meant for utility and nothing more. The most he’ll allow himself is whatever excess warmth he can get from an old sweatshirt or hoodie, if one is on hand.

Even once he’s free enough to choose for himself, for a long time, Tate just… sticks with his wardrobe and its utter lack of character. Practical is fine, and it saves him time if he just grabs whatever’s in his drawer without looking--it’s about all the same, anyway. Why add another step?

It takes active intervention from Tommy and Felicity (and an incident involving a laundry mix-up) for Tate to start introducing more variety to his closet. He still opts for deeper, darker colors (more autumnal) for everyday wear, but at least it’s color. He’s also into flannels, though he has to be careful with any facial hair he might have, because he’ll make himself ripe for lumberjack-related playful mockery.

There are also plenty of warm sweaters and sweatshirts, because Tate loves being cozy, though the colors of those tend to lean on the lighter, softer end of the spectrum. He loves them, and over time begins to wear them more often than just around the house.

10. Do they have any nicknames? “Tater Tot.” There was no escaping that one, especially with a brother like Tommy. It’s often met with a fond “asshole” in reply, because these boys are such children.

He’s been called a few other silly things by those around him, though not quite to the level of a full-on nickname. Still, they’re often said quite lovingly, which fills Tate with a sort of warmth.

(He can’t say the same about the other names he’s gone by, so… he’ll take this.)

18. What flaws do they have? Tate’s biggest flaw is that he’s self-sacrificial as hell. It’s a character trait that sets up his whole role in the story, one that’s evolved painfully over time and the consequences of which are hooked deep in the narrative. Tate is just a dear, tragic boy whose attempts to protect and save his brother at the expense of himself go catastrophically wrong sometimes, and it takes him a very long time to unlearn that behavior.

Tate has plenty of other heavy-stuff flaws, but in more lighthearted terms… he can’t cook an edible meal, no matter how hard he tries. He can bake a little, if it’s just cookies or box-mix cake, and he’s a tea-making master, but any actual entree stands a fair chance of being toxic for human consumption. His archery skills are also abysmal--despite it being his father’s forte, and later surrounding himself with so many bow-wielding vigilantes--to the point where a plate of pancakes is more likely to be lethal than arrows fired by Tate. The people in his life lovingly refuse to let him live these foibles down.

30. What music do they enjoy? For the most part, Tate likes whatever songs make him happy, or simply jive with him. He’ll dig into some artists if more than a few of their tracks already appeal to him, but by and large he’ll rely on stumbling across individual songs that have a nice sound, no matter the genre.

He does tend to favor pieces that are more instrumental or have subtler, simpler vocals, though. It’s partially because that’s best suited to his quiet demeanor, and partially because lyrics are a bit of a tough spot for him, especially with more emotional, introspective songs. He can certainly appreciate well-crafted songwriting, but every once in a while a line will strike him in a particular, relatable way, and it makes him uncomfortable. Tate’s also a bit of an old man with a lot of top hits, grumbling about how he just wants some fun tunes, but here’s everyone talking about their bodies and other people’s and what they’re going to do with them, can he please just get songs about platonic affection every once in a while.

38. Are they the hero, or anti-hero? Definitely a hero, even though he won’t think of himself in those terms for a very long time, and his introduction in the present of the narrative--catching him at his lowest, darkest, most threatening point--sure doesn’t make it seem that way. His journey from that stage to the soft, heroic boy he becomes is messy and complex, but so meaningful.

44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar Truly, my favorite part of this precious boy, the most defining Tate trait. He just… doesn’t speak much.

It’s not that he’s not good with words, or doesn’t pay much attention--Tate is pretty damn eloquent when he wants to be, and is observant to a fault. He’s merely incredibly selective with when and how he uses his words, which is a very distinctive contrast from Tommy’s frequent need to say something. Tate is fully capable of getting his point across with his body language and expression alone, or lets his brother do the talking for both of them.

To some extent, this is his nature, to be quiet and lean more into the nonverbal, but it was certainly exacerbated by the conditions he grew up under. In dealing with Malcolm and any sort of League business, Tate’s instinctive defense was to keep silent and speak only when expected--typically in response to or in clarification of orders. Quiet became less of something calming and wanted; and more of a necessity, a protection, a falling-in-line.

Tate may speak more often--not by much, but somewhat--in better times, but that’s because he feels comfortable and free enough to do so, and he’s leagues from being as talkative as Tommy. Still, even his silence is different, more expressive of his current mood instead of just serving as white noise, a smothering and muting of his feelings.

57. What do they do when they are happy? Tate is just a very tactile, huggy guy when he allows himself to be, and that often becomes particularly clear when he’s in a good mood. The happier he is, the more octopus-like he gets with his clinginess, but it’s sweet.

Either that, or he just dives head-first into his love of tea--making it, organizing his collection of it, buying more of it...

64. Do they like to dance? If he’s asked, Tate won’t answer that question--he’ll just silently raise his eyebrows and stare pointedly back at whoever brought it up. (If it’s Oliver or Roy, there’s another layer to the look, a clear returning of the question to them in challenge.)

The truth of it is yes, he does like to dance if the music and time are right, but he looks like a suburban dad at a barbecue when he does and he’s well aware of that fact. Better to act like he’s a townsperson from Footloose than hint that he even attempts to have a sense of rhythm.

70. Do they like themselves? Oof.

Tate… he’s done things. Granted, most of them were because he never actually had a choice unless he was willing to risk the consequences (if he was the assured sole recipient of them, he’d be more likely to; unfortunately, this was rarely ever the case, so Tate would fall in line for Tommy’s sake), but Tate is still accountable for how they went down. For as much as he can attribute his actions to trying to keep himself and his brother alive and free from as much harm as is avoidable, there’s still literal blood on his hands.

The thing that burns Tate the most, though, is the one decision he made of his own volition with the direct intention of hurting Tommy--again, for his safety, but that doesn’t make it any better. While the twins reconcile and rebuild their brotherhood even stronger than before, it’s still a blackened spot in their history even with the truth of it unraveled.

The question of whether or not Tate likes himself will be met with a vehement no for longer than anyone around him might expect, even as he gets more comfortable in his new life and knits himself into a group of people he can trust and who care. It’s recovery from the harm of the past, but Tate won’t feel comfortable in saying he likes himself until he figures out who that even is.

It’ll take time, but one day he’ll have a positive response.

80. How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse? Oh, Tate has the necessary skills down pretty darn well, knife expert ex-assassin and survivalist that he is. His biggest problem in that situation would just be the bitter frustration that he spent nearly 20 years of his life just trying to make it through a terrible situation, and he gets out only to be dumped into this? It’s another long fight for his life, which is disheartening for a guy who’s finally let himself admit that he just wants a chance to actually live. But he’ll handle it with grim determination, and hopefully with his brother at his side.

92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? Tate wouldn’t say much of anything here--he rarely ever needs words to express himself to the fullest.

Depending on the timeline--even solely focused on his better days--the number of people he’d want to see varies (thankfully, it grows as the years pass). But if he’s on a tight time limit and can only choose a few, then it’s without a doubt Tommy and Felicity. The three of them are the core found family (well, the twins are obviously twins, but still), the foundation of Tate’s life free of his father’s plans. And all Tate would want from his last minutes is to have the two of them present, to hold and be held in a tight group hug.

Tate is truly a simple man--just give him his people and a hug, and he can make peace with the situation.

100. Are they a day, or night person? Tough to say with Tate. For most of his life, he’d never really had that luxury--he’d be up at the asscrack of dawn or wide awake under the night sky depending on what was required of him. He’s adaptable by necessity.

But if we look to his better future… he’s still kind of middle-ground. He’ll generally be up at a reasonable definition of early in the morning, but also likes to take naps around the house when it’s particularly sunny and he’s not busy. Likewise, Tate will be fully alert at night for the amount of time he needs to be (whether it’s for crime-fighting-related activities, or just movie night), but will pass out the second he drops onto his bed, if he feels safe and comfortable enough with his surroundings to do so.

#obscure-sentimentalist writes sometimes #and cries about Distortion 'verse #and yells about her sweet boy Tate #truly I have not had my heart stolen by an original character like this ever before

[chiseler]

A Country in Turmoil: Why Netanyahu is a Symptom, Not Cause of Israel’s Political Crisis

Ramzy Baroud

It is convenient to surmise that Israel’s current political crisis is consistent with the country’s unfailing trajectory of short-lived governments and fractious ruling coalitions. While this view is somewhat defensible, it is also hasty.

Israel is currently at the cusp of a fourth general election in less than two years. Even by Israel’s political standards, this phenomenon is unprecedented, not only in terms of the frequency of how often Israelis vote, but also of the constant shifting in possible coalitions and seemingly strange alliances.

It seems that the only constant in the process of forming coalitions following each election is that Arab parties must not, under any circumstances, be allowed into a future government. Decision-making in Israel has historically been reserved for the country’s Jewish elites. This is unlikely to change anytime soon.

Even when the Arab parties’ coalition, the Joint List, imposed itself as a possible kingmaker following the September 2019 elections, the centrist Kahol Lavan (Blue and White) list refused to join forces with Arab politicians to oust Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu. Kahol Lavan’s leader, Benny Gantz, preferred to go back to the polls on March 2 and eventually join forces with his arch-enemy, Netanyahu, than make a single concession to the Joint List.

Gantz’s decision did not only expose how racism occupies a central role in Israeli politics, but also illustrated Gantz’s own foolishness. In rejecting the Joint List, he committed an act akin to political suicide. On the very day, March 26, that he joined a Netanyahu-led coalition, his own Blue and White alliance collapsed, with Yair Lapid of Yesh Atid and Moshe Ya’alon of Telem breaking away immediately from the once-dominant coalition.

Worse, Gantz lost not just the respect of his own political constituency, but of the Israeli public as well. According to an opinion poll released by Israel's Channel 12 News on December 15, if elections were to be held on that day, Gantz’s Blue and White would receive only 6 seats out of 120 seats available in the Israeli Knesset. Gantz’s former coalition partner, Yesh Atid, according to the same poll, would obtain an impressive 14 seats.

While Netanyahu’s Likud Party will remain on top with 27 seats, Gideon Sa’ar’s “New Hope - Unity for Israel,” would come a close second with 21 seats. Sa’ar’s is a brand new party, which represents the first major split from the Likud since the late Israeli Prime Minister, Ariel Sharon, formed the offshoot Kadima party in 2005.

Netanyahu and Sa’ar have a long history of bad blood between them, and although anything is possible in the formation of Israel’s political alliances, a future right-wing coalition that brings them both together is a dim possibility. If Sa’ar has learned anything from Gantz’s act of political self-mutilation, it is that any coalition with Netanyahu is a grave and costly mistake.

Ideological differences between Netanyahu and Sa’ar are quite minimal. In fact, both are fighting to obtain the vote of essentially the same constituency - although Sa’ar is hoping to extend his appeal to the disgruntled and betrayed Blue and White voters, who are eager to see someone - anyone - oust Netanyahu.

Never in the history of Israel, spanning seven decades, had a single individual served as the focal point of the country’s many political currents. While beloved by some, Netanyahu is much loathed by many, to the extent that entire parties or whole coalitions are formed simply to remove him from politics. That in mind, the majority of Israelis agree that the man is corrupt, as he has been indicted in three separate criminal cases.

However, if this is the case, how is a politically controversial and corrupt leader able to remain at the helm of Israeli politics for over 14 years? The typical answer often alludes to the man’s unmatched skills of manipulation and backdoor shady dealings. In the words of Yossi Verter, writing in the daily Haaretz, Netanyahu is “a first-class master swindler”.

This analysis alone, however, is not enough to explain Netanyahu’s durability as the longest-serving Israeli Prime Minister. There is an alternative reading, however, one that is predicated on the fact that Israel has been, for quite some time, navigating uncharted political territories without a specific destination in mind.

Prior to the inception of Israel on the ruins of historic Palestine in 1948, Israel’s Jewish political elites clashed quite often over the best way to colonize Palestine, how to deal with the British Mandate over the country, among other weighty subjects. These differences, however, largely faded away in 1948, when the newly-founded country unified under the banner of Mapai - the predecessor to Israel’s current Labor party - which dominated Israeli politics for decades.

Mapai’s dominance received a major boost after the Israeli occupation of the remainder of Palestine in 1967. The building and expansion of more Jewish colonies in the newly-acquired territories breathed life into the mission of Israel’s founding fathers. It was as if Zionism, the founding ideology of Israel, was rediscovered once more.

It was not until 1977 that the erstwhile negligible Israeli right formed a government for the first time in the country’s history. That date also ushered in a new age of political instability, which worsened with time. Still, Israeli politicians remained largely committed to three main causes in this specific order: the Zionist ideology, the party and the politicians’ own interests.

The assassination of the Labor Party leader, Yitzhak Rabin, at the hands of a right-wing Israeli zealot in 1995, was a bloody manifestation of the new era of unprecedented fragmentation that followed. A decade later, when Sharon declared the ‘Disengagement from Gaza’ plan of 2005, he further upset a barely functioning political balance, leading to the formation of Kadima, which threatened to erase the Likud from the political map.

Throughout these turbulent times, Netanyahu was always present, playing the same divisive role, as usual. He led the incitement against Rabin and, later, challenged Sharon over the leadership of the Likud. On the other hand, he was also responsible for resurrecting the Likud and he kept it alive notwithstanding its many ideological, political and leadership crises. The latter fact explains Likud’s loyalty to Netanyahu, despite his corruption, nepotism and dirty politics. They feel that, without Netanyahu’s leadership, the Likud could easily follow the same path of irrelevance or total demise as was the case with the Labor and Kadima parties, respectively.

With none of Israel’s founding fathers alive or relevant in the political arena, it is hard to imagine what course Israel’s future politics will follow. Certainly, the love affair with the settlement enterprise, ‘security’ and war is likely to carry on unhindered, as they are the bread and butter of Israeli politics. Yet, without a clear ideology, especially when combined with the lack of a written Constitution, Israeli politics will remain hostage to the whims of politicians and their personal interests, if not that of Netanyahu, then of someone else.

by Ramzy Baroud

- Ramzy Baroud is a journalist and the Editor of The Palestine Chronicle. He is the author of five books. His latest is “

These Chains Will Be Broken

: Palestinian Stories of Struggle and Defiance in Israeli Prisons” (Clarity Press). Dr. Baroud is a Non-resident Senior Research Fellow at the Center for Islam and Global Affairs (CIGA) and also at the Afro-Middle East Center (AMEC). His website is

www.ramzybaroud.net

[lily-of-the-eyrie]

🎓🔍 Scene Commentary: Colonel Edition ②

Here comes part 2 out of 7 of the Scene Commentary thread, covering Shay’s adventures at Fort Arsenal in  [SQ3-2] A Long Walk and A Short Drop [vid over here]. 

This time we’re gonna talk about the next step in the Colonel’s process of getting to know Shay/winning him over, and also extensively pick apart the hidden plan of how he directs Shay into serving the Templars’ interests. 

This round’s highlights: 　❗️Gist’s Hanging: A Staged Interaction? 　💭 A Staged Interaction: Tinfoil Edition

🌟 Thanks again to the-colonel-who-cares for beta reading help!

Okay, let’s get going with the show:

[SQ3-2] A Long Walk and A Short Drop Shay returns to the Finnegans' residence and hears about a friend of the Colonel's getting into trouble.

　After renovating the church, Shay decides to go back to update Barry and Cassidy about his gang-busting activities, but found upon his arrival that the Colonel had beaten him to it. It's like he knows Shay's gonna come back home right away... Hm.

　By this time, we see that Shay and the Colonel are on friendly terms―Shay shows no particular sign of tension throughout their conversation here. In fact, when the Colonel quickly asked him to help out a friend of his, he readily accepts.

　The Colonel mentions that said friend, Gist, had run into trouble investigating "a nest of criminals". Said criminals are likely about to execute him for snooping around their base if someone doesn't go there and save him, which honestly sounds like quite a bomb to drop on a guy you literally just met earlier that day. 

　Still, despite how unbelievable this might sound, the Colonel wasn't randomly throwing requests at Shay to see what sticks―he likely knows that Shay is more than capable of rescuing Gist on his own, and, more importantly, he sounds like someone who would want to. After all, he did just see Shay take down a whole gang hideout by himself, and the ex-Assassin's recent actions show that he's the kind of guy who has a strong desire to protect the people victimized by the gangs (ie.-the Finnegans). Shay then proves this hypothesis correct when he declares that he won't let the outlaws have another victim.

　As for why he doesn't go there and save Gist himself, the Colonel mentions that he has "urgent business in Albany". This isn't explained in any of the subsequent scenes, so we never really know what this "urgent business" is actually supposed to be. It could be anything from military duties to a Templar meeting...or, if you want to go full-on conspiracy theory mode, it might even just be an excuse to sit this round out to see how Shay would go about saving Gist.

❗️Gist’s Hanging: A Staged Interaction?

　This scene plays out naturally enough as a something to move the plot along, with the Colonel pointing us towards the next story mission, but I've got the strong suspicion that the whole "saving Gist" incident was staged.

　The setup of the situation is particularly fishy: given that Gist's day job as a surveyor/merchant/landlord doesn't exactly entail sneaking into gang hideouts, it's likely that he's there specifically on Templar business. As a fellow Templar active in New York, the Colonel must've known about Gist's current task at Fort Arsenal, so no surprises there... But how, in a time before instant messaging, did the timing work out so well that Gist literally just got caught as Shay and Monro are having that conversation at the Finnegans', cutting it so close that the poor man was literally in the process of getting hung as Shay arrived at the scaffolds? And the weirdest part is that the Colonel seemed to know that that was exactly what was going to happen.

　On one hand, it could all be coincidence. The Colonel might just have told Shay to go check up on Gist because he's worried about the worst case scenario in his Fort Arsenal operation, and wanted Shay to help out in case Gist ran into trouble; if no trouble occured, well, that's great, but you know, just in case.

💭 A Staged Interaction: Tinfoil Edition

　On the other hand: what if the episode was staged? Considering what we know from when the Colonel confessed the truth after Fort William Henry―that he'd known all along that Shay was an Assassin―it's reasonable to assume that everything before Fort William Henry is likely a false reality of sorts, created and maintained to keep nudging Shay into "demonstrating his loyalty and resourcefulness to the Templar cause" (albeit without his knowledge)...which pretty much means it plays like a microcosm of the grand New World Order that the Templars were trying to create. 

　In this light, though, how can we frame the events of this episode? One take I can think of is that the Colonel, who had grown an interest in Shay's personality during their meeting at the Greenwich gang HQ, may have told Gist to go Fort Arsenal and deliberately get caught, creating a situation where he can (1) test the goodness of Shay's character and the extent of his skills, and (2) use Shay’s inclination towards kicking criminal ass to take out the Assassin-affiliated gang members roosting at Fort Arsenal.

　Let's go back a little further up the timeline, to when the Colonel first found Shay. From his perspective, there are only two things about the man that are certain:

1) He's an Assassin, because he has a hidden blade; 2) He has the manuscript with him

　Notice that this includes nothing about what Shay is like as a person, given that he's completely out of order until earlier that morning.

　Now (1) is pretty straightforward, but (2) is where interpretations can get fuzzy. After all, the Templars have no clue what went down at the Homestead―all they know is that this guy has a very important manuscript stolen from Wardrop, one of theirs who got assassinated the previous year, and for some reason he wound up half-drowned on New York's shores with a bullet in his back. Was he an Assassin courier caught in a fight with enemy soldiers? Was he attacked by bandits? Maybe one of the Templar affiliates chased him down and took the shot? All in all, the situation's unusual, and would’ve raised a lot of questions for the Templars who found him. If they managed to ascertain that it wasn’t one of theirs who did this, this may be the point at which the Colonel might've gotten the hunch that Shay turned his back on his former Brotherhood.

　Assuming that he had turned traitor to the Assassins though, the logical route for the Colonel at this point would be to somehow direct Shay into working against the Assassins, preferably in ways that benefit the Templars―as someone who was once an Assassin, there would be a great many things Shay presumably knows that would give him an edge as an Assassin hunter over a regular Templar (eg.-Assassin skills, details of Assassin operations, where the Brotherhood's hideouts are located, etc.), making him a very valuable asset. However, there's a clear hitch―even if it's true that Shay did betray the local Brotherhood and is now hostile to them (seeing him hack the Assassin flag off the Greenwich gang HQ's flagpole should make this extremely obvious), there's no guarantee that this means he's not equally hostile to the Templars, who were indeed his old enemies...and might still be. So clearly, the Colonel couldn't just walk up to Shay and ask him to blow up Assassin bases for the Order, and given that he might still kill Templars on sight, this makes the mere act of keeping him alive a risky venture. Given that the continued presence of an Assassin is literally an issue of life and death for the Templars, it's not surprising if the Colonel's plan of sparing Shay to see what he can do with him is met with resistance from a chunk of the Order, notably from William Johnson. Still, he managed to get that plan going, but evidently steering the potentially hostile Shay into serving the Order's goals is going to take some creativity―and a good helping of scrubbing any hint of Templar affiliation off of the Templars dealing with him.

　All this discussion of what to do with Shay presumably got wrapped up before the man even woke up, given he was bedridden for a couple of months, so naturally, the discussion revolved around how to put him to use as an "ex-Assassin pawn" and took none of his personality traits or motivations into account. Due to the events at the Greenwich HQ incident, though, the Colonel learned a few definitive things about Shay—chiefly of the "he's a lot like Finnegan Jr." strain. Considering how important Finn Jr. is played up to be for the Colonel in terms of their shared goals (Doing Good By The People™ and all that jazz), I think it's more likely than not that this encounter affected how he viewed Shay, and by extension his strategy of how to treat the ex-Assassin afterwards.

[Speaking of Finnegan Jr., I wonder how he figures into all this. It’s highly likely that the boy's death happened by Assassin hands because this is Assassin’s Creed™ and not Random 18th Century Colonial Sim™, so I'm not sure the Colonel's feelings are exactly neutral when it comes to his hooded nemeses (even if he's less explosive about the A-word than Johnson was). Whatever was in his head when he first fished Shay out of the waters and saw the hidden blade strapped onto his arm, it probably wasn’t pretty 😂 Still, if the Colonel did indeed have an axe to grind with the Brotherhood and still managed to behave so calmly around Shay, that’s some top grade emotional regulation skills.]

　So, going back to Gist―by setting him up as the victim to be "rescued" by Shay, who had to effectively take out the gang members in Fort Arsenal and therefore dislodge the Assassins from that location in order to save him, the Colonel had essentially pulled a brilliant strategic move to remove the Assassin presence in the area under the guise of protecting an "innocent civilian", all without lifting a finger himself. But Gist probably wasn't a passive actor in this scenario―if this scene really was set up as a Templar plot, then he'd have worked together with the Colonel on the script. Given that he's good enough at acting that he could even teach Jack Weeks how to "mimic people of various social status and origins", and that he was the one Templar who had to stick right beside Shay for a whole year without blowing his cover, pretending to be a civilian in distress is going to barely be a challenge for him.

　Of course, given that Gist was really hanging by a rope when Shay arrived at the scene, it's a rather risky plan; if Shay didn't manage to save him in time, there's a very real risk that Gist might wind up really choking to death on the scaffolds... Unless the Colonel accounted for that too, and had posted, say, Weeks nearby as backup, because even if we assume that Gist and the Colonel worked so well together that Gist would consent to risking his neck like that upon request, leaving your subordinate to probably die like that is just irresponsible leadership, which, knowing the Colonel’s dynamics with people working for him, just sounds unlikely.

　Whatever the truth of the event though, if the Colonel's aim was to prove that Shay is worth keeping alive to the rest of the Colonial Rite, his success at taking Fort Arsenal should be a pretty good piece of evidence in his favour.

#⟪Monrology 🎓⟫ #⟪Headcanon Hour 💭⟫ #⟪✠ Honour and Loyalty ✠⟫ #⟪Cutscene Commentary series⟫ #Aaand there goes my tinfoil hat #But ok for srs #since they never gave us the blueprints for this vivarium the Colonel built around Shay until his letter about FWH tore it down #we basically have to figure out how the events surrounding Shay looked like from the Templars' POV by ourselves #On one hand this means that people's idea of the characters involved can change wildly depending on personal theories #bcs there's no unifying canon on the matter #but picking the details apart to figure out how it comes together is fun as heck 😂

[gutsymmetry]

who’s ready for a ~fruit of the poisonous tree deep dive~

the layers of Disturbing™ in her relationship with leopold are... even more striking on review. once again i can’t help but think of the show as continuously moving toward and backing away from some of the things it is trying to represent--namely, the truth about the abuses and imbalances of power that have surrounded regina all her life. the attempt to depict leopold as sympathetic and kindly, while also giving him actions that are callous, unfeeling, and deeply controlling of regina, is also an example of the “double reality” theme i’ve picked up on in previous headcanons and metas--the idea that one layer of the story is the actual truth, but that it’s written over with a layer of duplicitous telling, that obscures what is actually happening and at stake, in a way that skews the narrative, always, against regina.

leopold announces himself to the genie as a king who only wants the happiness of all who reside in his kingdom, and his use of the genie’s three wishes (one to free him, and one to bestow the third wish on him) make it clear that he does have certain values in that regard. but he also says, aloud, explicitly, “i am not a fool. i realize the queen is unhappy,” when he has already and continues to behave in ways that are guaranteed to perpetuate her unhappiness--i mean, she was what... eighteen when he married her? against her will? by brokering a deal with her mother? whom, according to canon which we may or may not be acknowledging here, HE HAD PREVIOUSLY BONED? like... hello?

not to mention what he does in “the fruit of the poisonous tree.” first, in front of the whole court, he ignores her, and gives a public speech about how beautiful and perfect his first wife was and his daughter, snow, is. regina leaves, upset, and has an exchange with the genie in which he gifts her a mirror; she then plants an entry in her diary to the effect that her hope for love has been reawakened. leopold reads her diary and has her locked in her rooms under guard, as well as confiscating the mirror. he then enlists the genie to discover the identity of the ~mysterious man~ his wife has feelings for, casually giving him the diary to read--like, look at the genie’s face when he does this.

this is fucked up behavior! this is actually really not okay! and it’s not the behavior of a man who is actually interested in the happiness of everyone in his kingdom. it’s the behavior of a man who sees a woman he considers his property slipping out of his control, believing that he should be able to do anything to her, treat her any way he likes, and not only continue to control her physically, but also control her interior life--her feelings and thoughts. consider the fact that in order for her deception to work, regina had to plant a diary entry, knowing that leopold would read it. he has done this before.

this is an abusive relationship. but the narrative of the show emphasizes, in this episode, not leopold’s two-facedness, but regina’s. it is about regina’s duplicity and her trickery involving the genie, convincing him she loved him in order to “make him” kill the king and then “make him” bind himself to her forever (both actions he undertook of his own free will--it was his suggestion to assassinate leopold!--and the latter even after regina had revealed to him the extent of her deception and made it clear she would be pinning the murder of the king solely on him). the themes of mirrors and seeing, of being freed and trapped, are centered around the genie and leopold, emphasizing their viewpoint and their vulnerability, rather than regina’s.

positioning an abused young woman (regina is certainly only in her mid-20s in these flashback scenes) as the femme fatale in this story could be spun as an interesting commentary on the self-serving nature of men’s interest in women and how they misread and understand women and their humanity--but that’s not how it was done. this was about depicting regina as tricky, dangerous, and sexually manipulative. hence the scene at the end with the genie/sidney:

the goal is ALWAYS to effect this double reality, to rewrite the narrative of what they’re actually showing in a way that generates sympathy for other characters while sapping regina of humanity. all of these actions she takes in the flashback scenes--and, yes, they are manipulative and harmful actions--are nonetheless understandable given the framework of her overall character, and the show should be treating them as such, and addressing regina’s slide into violence, manipulation, and control in a compassionate way. but it doesn’t and pretty much never will.

#✦ villains don't get happy endings ( regina headcanon tag. )

[freckled-words]

For The King - Part Seven

Not gonna lie. I fucked up last chapter, and missed some details that I had plotted in my structure. But I fixed it with this one! I really hope you guys get a kick out of this chapter, as it brought me a bit of twisted joy to write.

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE /  PART SIX

A report finally came in as the sun began to set.

One of the men involved was found. 

Having been bored waiting all day, King Phantom didn’t bother to wait for the man to be brought to him. 

You’d left to check on dinner preparations and had heard from another servant what had transpired.

Apparently, King Phantom had been so elated with the news, he’d thrown himself out of his bedroom window. The servant barely got to the window in time to see him fall through a ruby-edged portal and disappear.

You sighed through your nose, as your mouth was stuffed with a freshly baked roll. You rather wished you’d been there to see that, and at the same time, you were happy to let the King go wreak havoc without you. He’d been a pain in the arse these past few hours. It was the same as keeping a bored child distracted from the big present they knew they were getting later.

You didn’t know when the King would return and so you decided a nap was in order. Every member of the palace knew where to find you if a summons came from the King. 

*~*~

“You failed to mention this in your report, idiot.” King Phantom looked down upon the corpse. The guards standing by thought he was mad at first, now they could discern he was, in fact, pouting.

In years past, they would have feared being incinerated for disappointing him. In the last two years, there’s been a noted… change… to their King. One that was never spoken aloud, in fear of it coming undone. This change had not made the King softer by any means, yet he seemed more lenient. Willing to let small transgressions slide at least. 

The cause for this change was quite obvious, there was no other explanation for it. So there was an unspoken rule among the people that served within the palace. It was a rule that all were happy to maintain and enforce. 

This recent incident has brought to light the full extent of this rule’s effect. 

Keep the King’s servant in good spirits, however small a way a person can. 

They knew you thought of it as an act of pity. That they feared for you, and felt bad that you were in your position. At first, that had been so. 

Now, the servants, guards, and even the King’s advisers, had no worries for you. There was no better place for your safety than by the King’s side, and though they held contempt for their King, they did not detest you for saving him. 

Those that had witnessed the event vouched for the smallest miracle that had occurred: The King had shown genuine concern for you.

They had long ago believed he felt nothing, particularly not something that could make him appear human. 

When the order was given to pursue the men responsible for the botched assassination, it was carried out with fervor. Not for the reward, but for the sake of the unspoken rule. 

King Phantom crouched down next to the body. Holding his hand over the man’s face, he muttered something they couldn’t decipher. His power flowed from his palm and drifted down upon the man. Immediately, a hand became clear in a golden glow around his throat.

“Well ~” The single word was said in delight. Yet the smile they could see in the thickening darkness, was not one that matched.

*~*~

“Yooohoooo! You gave a jingle jangle?” 

She wrinkled her nose in distaste of the cheery voice. She would have known it was him just from the door being slammed open, his hollering was hardly necessary.

Turning away from the mirror where she’d been watching King Phantom examine the body, she glared at the man.

Dressed in a gaudy, yellow tunic; burnt orange hose; and sharply pointed, black boots-- Remus Sanders was the picture of chaos. 

He leaned against the door frame in a scandalous manner, his mace resting between his feet. Focusing on the mace, she saw fresh blood dripping from the spikes, “Who have you wantonly killed this time?”

Remus grinned and waved a hand in dismissal, “Just some silly maid, your Highney. She was just so adorable, my brain couldn’t handle all my happiness! I had to make it stop!” 

She pinched the bridge of her nose with an irritated sigh, “Just keep that blood from getting on my carpet.” 

Remus pulled a stained and molding handkerchief from his pocket and dropped it onto the small puddle of blood. 

Knowing that was the best she would get from him, she refocused on why she had bothered to summon him, “I have a job for you. An important one.”

Remus giddily clapped his hands together and wiggled his arse in anticipation, “Oh goody! I was getting really bored with my friends in the dungeons.”

She tapped her finger against the gilded frame of her mirror and the image rippled. A young servant asleep in their bed came into focus. 

“I need this servant brought to me, alive.” Emphasis was needed on that word, as Remus had begun to twist his mustache curls upon seeing the servant. 

He crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip in a pout, “But your Highneeey, they’re so innocent, and cute, and my brain is getting happy!”

“I mean it, Remus. I need them alive in order for my plans to succeed. I’ve sent two others ahead of you that will be of...assistance.” The mirror’s image changed showing the two men creeping their way through the city. 

Remus’ right hand shifted to his hip while his left raised in a floundering manner, “You lost me. You already have boys sent off to fetch your toy?”

“They’re incompetent buffoons, which makes them the perfect bait. They’ll be caught soon enough, and while the King is busy stripping them of their flesh, you will retrieve my prize for me. ALIVE. Not even a scratch on this servant, Remus. Do this and I’ll give you the title of Dungeon Master. You’ll have complete control of my prisoners.” She quirked a smile to Remus, who’s eyes had lit up in glee at this offer.

Clasping his hands together Remus rocked on his heels, “Your Majesty drives a hard bargain, but I’ll accept! Not a scratch, bruise, cut, or PIMPLE will touch the lovely little servant! When do I head out?”

In the mirror’s surface, the two men had begun to run. Behind them, soldiers on horses gave chase.

“Soon Remus, soon.”

#For The King #Part Seven #Reader Insert #fanfiction #Platonic Reader X Phantom #dragon king AU #Phantom Battle #Remus Sanders

[darthlorddiamond]

Come With Me

This is the twelfth episode of the Black Diamond story, if you want to read the previous episode or follow the next ones you can check my Masterlist.

Summary: Diamond's life with Rinnrivin Di was filled with bloody luxuries, as the Galactic Senate began to see them as a great threat, so they appointed Leia Organa to stop their activities.

Words: 2,845

Reading Time: 12 min

Category: Bio

Warnings: Blood, Murder

__________________

Come With Me

Since I started being part of the Rinnrivin Di´s cartel, my life changed dramatically. Di insisted on keeping me as close to him as possible, so he assigned me a room inside his mansion, which was full of excesses. Likewise, he took great efforts to make it clear to me that whatever I wanted, no matter what part of the galaxy it was from, I would get it, so my wardrobe began to fill with the finest garments, I had a box full of jewels that Di gave me whenever his merchant ships returned from their voyages, and I began a collection of swords, forged from the strangest metals.

During the evenings, I accompanied Di for dinner, more than a light meal, it was a complete banquet prepared just for the two of us. At first, these excesses made me feel uncomfortable, but Di insisted that everything he gave me was the least that a Sith under his roof deserved, so little by little I convinced myself of his words and allowed him to spoils me.

My role within the cartel was to be Di's shadow, by himself, he was already a highly feared man, not only for his men, but also for the other criminal organizations that operated in the galaxy, however, when the rumor that Di had a Sith by his side spread, his status grew immediately and no one in the entire galaxy dared contradict him.

More than a bodyguard, I was Di's private mercenary. If someone didn´t obey his orders, owed him money, or some deal with smugglers didn´t turn out the way he wanted, he would send me to give a "solution", which was always the same.

By this time I already had a personal ritual before my works, which consisted of dressing up in my best uniform, polishing my favorite saber, and going where I was asked. The result was always the same: a room full of blood and bodies so mutilated to the point that no one could recognize them. It was undoubtedly a monstrous scene, the authorities who found it was often unable to enter and as soon as they came across a montage like that, they already knew that it was the work of the Rinnrivin Di´s demon, as they began to call me, and they weren´t wrong, I became a demon, I completely enjoyed what I was doing, every time I went for a killing, my pupils were dilating, my heart was racing, adrenaline ran through my veins and my laughter greatly overshadowed the screams of my victims, I completely loved painting the walls and the floor with their guts, I loved being covered in blood and nothing excited me more than going back to Di, making all the members of his court tremble in my path with panic as they saw me pass with the heads of his enemies hanging on my belt.

I had become a monster, in the beast that Di wanted and needed at his side, and, in truth, I enjoyed it too much.

During my free time, anybody could find me in Di's study, to one side of his courtroom, it was there that I discovered classical literature. I could spend hours reading about the myths of the various systems and the galaxy, about extraordinary battles, about legends of Jedis and Siths. Occasionally, my attention was focused on a novel, and at times I managed to remember what it was like to feel the warmth of affection and my heart filled with hope, even if it vanished in an instant. I found in books almost the same pleasure that I found when Di sent me to do his dirty work, I could lose myself completely on it.

This hobby gave me a break to escape the nightmares that tormented me at night, nightmares that beyond referring to the atrocious acts that my hands performed, were memories of my life with Egil... with Keldo. In these dreams I could see them, looking at me in incredulity, horrified by the person I had become, running away from me and I couldn´t do it... I couldn´t bear the way they looked at me... Every time I closed my eyes and their images presented themselves in my head, my heart trembled, my body covered with cold sweat, and the night was filled with my screams, screams that invaded all the corridors of Di's mansion and froze in fear all its workers in its place.

Days, even weeks, could pass without Di requesting from me, and during these periods I wandered through the endless corridors and halls of his mansion, I was, to a certain extent, free to do whatever I wanted, as long as I didn´t leave the mansion, in other words, I was a prisoner of a golden cage. During my tours on Di's mansion, I found a room full of musical instruments. All its walls were covered with objects from all parts of the galaxy, there were even some that I didn´t know how it operated and others with such strange shapes, that I didn´t understand how it sound, momentarily I shifted my attention from the books and focused on those instruments, on one, in particular, a wooden object, with strings, a handle and keys, according to the person in charge of taking care of the room, the instrument was called hurdy-gurdy and Di had obtained it from one of his trips to Zeltros.

I found an extension of my being in the hurdy-gurdy. When I played it, I could feel how my body vibrated to its beat and how its highs increased my senses. It was through the hurdy-gurdy that I managed to physically manifest the pain that I felt deep inside me, it was through its melodies that I managed to get out the anger that accumulated in me. Music became for me, an extension of the Force, so from that moment on, I no longer only carried my saber when Di sent me to do some nasty work, transforming my gloomy actions into macabre symphonies.

Rinnrivin Di's cartel grew in power and presence with each passing day, to the point where we became a direct threat to the Galactic Senate, which is why Di was forced to remove me from his mansion to give me a more active role within the organization, it was so that I learned that a part of the profits of our casinos and smugglers were derived to solve the First Order, who were hungry for funds to create a fleet. Eventually, former supporters of the old Empire sought us out to serve as intermediaries between them and the First Order, a fact that made that Di continue to position himself as one of the main gears within the construction of this new regime.

"If it's true, that the First Order is re-emerging from the old Empire, then they´re not only looking for funds to renew their fleet" Di commented during our dinner, taking a bite to his mouth. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're saying, Di" I turned around to see him lowering my glass, Di only fixed his eyes with mine as he finished swallowing "The true power of the Empire didn´t come from his ships, but from the Siths who were part of it..." his explanation immediately made me lose my appetite "If the First Order discovers that I have you by my side, they will do whatever it takes for you to join them..." Di stopped looking at me and continued to bring food to his mouth "Let's put it this way..." I was starting to get very upset "If you join the First Order, I will have someone of my utmost confidence within…” he took a drink from his glass "That without counting that you would continue to obey my orders..." my eyes remained fixed on him, while he continued to swallow "My power would expand beyond what we now have...".

I suddenly got up from the table and started walking towards the exit "Hey! Diamond! Where do you think you are going?" I just turned to see him on my shoulder "Don't count on me..." I turned to see him leaning against the door frame "I think you haven´t thought that very well Di, if the First Order is being born from the Empire, it´s because they already have a Sith…” I crossed my arms and Di stopped eating, fixing his gaze on me with great curiosity “If that's the case, well, if they find out that you have a Sith working for you, without telling them, well…” a huge smile was on my face "You´re going to end up dead and I´ll do nothing to stop them..." I resumed my way and left the room.

I was walking through the corridors towards my room, my anger was so strong that the ground I stepped on froze in my path. Be part of the First Order, me!? How can he even think of it!? After what Phasma did, after losing everything because of their stupid promises… Suddenly I stopped and a burst of laughter completely invaded me. Their promises! Their promises of power and glory are nothing without us! The First Order can´t exist without us! I couldn´t with the laughter that this situation caused me. Who would say it? They´re nothing without our money, funds that only Di can get thanks to me! Phasma´s nothing without me! She´s nothing! My body was shaking with total madness, I had completely lost my mind... They´re nothing without me...

Two years have passed since Rinnrivin Di took me under his arm, after that night, he never touched the subject of introducing me to the First Order again, we keep it as the high secret of the cartel. During this time I learned how to block my Force, to avoid being tracked by other users, and I became the head of his group of mercenaries, leading all missions regarding high-elite assassinations. At this point, the Galactic Senate was already tracking almost all our activities and looking for ways to block us, efforts that were always in vain, because, a senator who started a race against Di, ended up, sooner rather than later, being part of some of my deadly symphonies.

By the time we were able to dominate the entire Gaulus system, the Senate named Leia Organa as the head of all investigations around us. It was obvious that they´re desperate to control and shut down part of our activities, especially those related to obtaining funds for the First Order. Leia was a complete headache for my unit, she always ended up meddling in all my missions and, although we never saw each other on a person, it was notorious that we had a confrontation, since Leia's main objective to stop the business of Di was to exterminate the Black Sonata, a nickname that I had earned after ending the lives of several senators, since, taking me out of the way, Di's extortions to get fonds would drop drastically.

The first time that Leia and I ran into each other, was when she had the guts to appear directly in Bastatha, entering our casino and reaching the courtroom, where I blocked her pat and she only rested her eyes on mine “Diamond, let Senator Organa through, don't be rude to our guests" I stepped aside and Leia cross in front of me "Can I offer you something to drink Senator?" Di stood up from his throne and went to the cellar, where he served two glasses of liquor "I didn´t come here to socialize Rinnrivin" Leia replied as she walked towards him, I imitated her steps, staying as close as possible to her, I could feel as my stomach growled and anger began to take over my mind as I slipped one of my hands to the hilt of my saber, Di immediately noticed my physical response and stared at me taking his attention off from Leia "Come on my dear, the carpet is new, it would be a pity to stain it with the senator's blood” Di took a drink from his glass and immediately Leia turned to see me. 

Di smile when he watched us “I think you don't know each other yet, senator…” he went to his throne and sat down again "Let me introduce Diamond to you..." and with one of his hands he pointed at me "Although I think you know her as the Black Sonata" and closing his comment, Di laughed as Leia's eyes widened "What's up Senator, you weren't expected to meet your target like this!?" Di kept on laughing, while Leia only pressed her lips harder and her hand rested on her blaster "You're kidding Rinnrivin Di!" Leia addressed Di screaming "She's just a young girl!" Leia turned to see me again "You're just a young girl... You can't be older than my Ben..." she whispered and her gaze turned to one of pity, I could feel a knot forming in my stomach and my fists clenched hard "I don't think you came to see me to talk about the age of my mercenaries..." Di took a drink from his glass again "What do you want Princess Organa?" it was obvious that he was making fun of her, Leia regained her composure and walked towards Di "Let's talk about Sinbensko" Di's smile completely disappeared from his face, I could see how Leia's words had made him completely uncomfortable, he immediately turned to see me and with a gesture indicated me that I should leave him alone with her, so I left the room.

It will have been a couple of hours since I left Leia talking with Di. I got bored of waiting in the hallway so I went out of the casino, leaning against the wall I watched the rain and how the puddles reflected the red light of the neons while I lit a cigarette. 

Outside the casino, near where I was, there was a man accompanied by a Wookiee, I assumed they were accompanying the senator. 

Eventually, Leia came out the front door, noticing my presence "Leia, let´s go!" said the man, Leia turned to see him "Give me just a moment Han" and she started walking towards me, Once in front of me, I could hear her whisper "Are you... Are you really the Black Sonata?" I continued to smoke as I watched her "Your name is Diamond, right?" Leia got closer to me "You know, you´re too young to be the cold blood killer that everyone says you are" I looked askance at her as I tossed my cigarette aside "Do you think that's not true?" I kept looking at her while I took out another cigar and hung it "I'm not saying it's not true..." Leia sighed "I'm just saying you're very young, you still have the opportunity to make other choices..." her words made something inside me shudder "We all can go back, even when we reach the darkest point, we all can start a new path..." she extended one of her hands and took mine bringing it to her chest "You don't have to be the monster they want you to be..." her eyes were soft, just like her words, I couldn't take my eyes off from her face "You´re in time to leave all this behind..." I could feel a tear fall on my cheek, Leia just smiled "Come with me..." I intuitively snatched my hand away, she just looked at me with surprise, I couldn´t believe what she said, how she looked at me, nobody had seen me like that in years. 

The image of Ylva appeared in my memory, in the motherly way in which she spoke to me, just like Leia, my teeth were so tight that I hadn’t noticed that I had torn my tongue " "Diamond..." Leia tried to take my hand again "Come with me... Please..." I could feel how anger made my body shook, I was so confused, I was even scared, my hands started to sweat and before I did anything I could regret, I put her aside and I entered the casino again leaving her behind me.

I walked down the hallways until I got to my room. The rain outside had intensified, the thunders lit up my entire room, and the drops crashed down on my windows just like the confusion and anger filled my head. I screamed, I growl, I cried, I threw everything in my path. Leia´s wrong, for me it is too late, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, no matter who I´m with, the monster that lives in me will always lie in, waiting to emerge.

No matter how hopeful Leia's words are, things are as they are no matter what I do, the Death follows me, that's a reality, Death embraces me, she and I have a relationship of mutual dependence, I like it that way, I enjoy it that way, and I don't plan to keep running away from it.

Note: I would like to especially thank @kyloren-theprince​, @thetorturerwrites​ & @kylorengarbagedump​​​ who took time to read this first part of my saga and sent me observations with all the patience in the world.

#star wars #star wars fanfic #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x yn #kylo ren imagine #ben solo #ben solo x you #ben solo x reader #ben solo imagine #armitage hux #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux imagine #general hux #general hux fanfic #general hux x y/n #general hux x reader #general hux imagine #black diamond #mitsu #the night embrace #kylo ren smut #armitage hux smut #general hux smut

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Three)

Words: 3132

A/N: Usual JW-verse violence, mention of being drugged

Previously: John Wick, an ex-hitman on the run from seemingly everyone in the Underworld, teams up with the Bowery King to take down the High Table that controls it. To do that, they need more allies. You, an assassin known as Persephone, were rumored to be held captive by the Instructor, having lost your memory five years ago. Wick sets out to retrieve you and help you regain your memories in order to aid them in their fight. A bond starts to form the more you train and familiarize yourself with Wick. A shadow from your past plans to drag you back in.

-

In the Underworld, not everything was digital. It seemed that information was safer in either a physical form behind guards and vaults or kept in memories of the need-to-know people, giving you and John extra work on tracing information. To take down a network, you need to cut the right wiring or it’ll electrocute you.

First off, you look at the power source. There’s the Elder who sits above the High Table, then the High Table members with a variable power of their own. There were people like Santino that would even kill their own family to be a member.

Twelve seats in the council. Twelve crime lords.

The judgement that the Adjudicator, the chancellor and representative of the High Table council, served was a testament to how much power they were given. It was to show everyone what the High Table can do. Go against the rules and there will be punishment. Swear fealty to the Table, present your serving hands, the punishment for going against them would be having those hands pierced through. Gave seven bullets to an excommunicado assassin? Seven slashes for you. Housing said excommunicado in your establishment? Business is now allowed in the Continental.

Where the hell do you start? Where do you find the right allies in a world of criminals? Practically every assassin around the world jumped at the chance to kill John Wick when his bounty was sent out.

You were worried for him. You thought it was best to lay low and build yourselves up before taking on the High Table, but it seemed after he was forced out of his retirement, he couldn’t keep still. He had a drive for vengeance that wouldn’t rest until the threat was dealt with and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

You ended up working on several projects at a time, which wasn’t good for your focus, but at least there was still something to keep you busy when you were stuck on one of them. The Bowery King’s people, or the Bowery boys, were helpful in getting the supplies that you needed and even tested some of the prototypes.

Given that the services offered to the high-profile assassins of the Underworld were off limits, you worked to provide tools in any way you can. You even made a bulletproof vest for John’s dog, though you didn’t tell John that. He had mentioned that an old acquaintance of his, Sofia, who runs the Continental in Morocco, had bulletproof vests for both of her dogs, so you thought it was a nice extra something, even adding a pattern that was similar to John’s suit at the front.

There were tactical vests and weapons modulations that you drew up as well as of various blades designed for quickness, efficiency, and precision, which would compliment your special project that you were saving for last. They weren’t the best, but they could still do the job.

You were pouring over a few blueprints of gun models that you were considering on upgrading when John knocked on your door. “It’s me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice, especially after a long day of tinkering. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?” you told him, putting the prints down as he opened the door.

His dog rushed to your side, panting happily. You patted your lap and allowed him to jump up, snuggling comfortably against you. There was a soft look in John’s eyes as he looked at the two of you before shaking himself out of it.

“The others said we had to knock before coming in,” John said, pointing at the door.

You nodded, scratching behind his dog’s ear. “Yeah, they do, but not you. You don’t have to.”

The implication on the level of trust that you had on him made his walls crumble down again, but he didn’t let himself smile. There was business to attend to. It doesn’t help when a strand of hair kept falling on your face and all he wanted to do was tuck it behind your ear and cup your face and- 

When John continued to be silent, you continued, “Anyways, we’re heading out?”

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“Um, okay. I’ll get my stuff and meet you at the entrance.”

He was about the reply, but stopped and nodded before walking away. You exchanged a look with his dog who was used to his behavior then jumped off your lap to follow his human. You sighed gathering your blueprints and stored them away, grabbing two of your prototypes and a slim utility belt.

You had thought that John would have left without you, but there he was, quietly talking to his dog by the entrance of one of the Soup Kitchen’s underground tunnels. You were dressed in a practical dark outfit the belt around your waist, hidden by your black leather jacket. You leaned down to hug John’s dog goodbye, planting a kiss on his flat head and booped his nose with a finger. John stood up, sending his dog away and turned to you.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

Nothing gets by the Bowery King and his people. The benefits of having him as an ally was the fact that he built his empire from the bottom and existed as its own entity. The High Table did not like that they had no complete hold on them and wanted him to swear fealty. His punishment for helping John was unjust in his eyes, seeing it as a display of the High Table’s arrogance.

The Bowery King had eyes and ears everywhere and had the advantage of anonymity to an extent. It was only a matter of time until he heard of the Instructor’s people looking for you.

You needed to get back into your apartment for your things and hopefully something that will jog your memory, maybe a clue of what the Instructor had planned for you. The two of you were currently waiting out in an old apartment in the middle of renovation. John stood nearest to the window, keeping an eye on the people going in and out of the building across the street.

You could tell there was something that John wanted to ask you, but instead, he said, “You didn’t kill everyone.”

You stared down at your boots with a sigh. “She ordered my parents to be killed. A selected few knew of it, was sent to carry out that task. I didn’t find out ‘til later after countless missions that I’ve done, the people that I’ve trained with, I didn’t see what was happening around me.”

“I knew the Instructor,” John said, his eyes still trained on observing the building’s activities, “she left the Director after some time training under her. Her goals were ambitious, but her execution was something the Director always criticized her on. Things didn’t turn out the way she wanted, but she did made you, whether you like it or not.”

“I suppose so,” you said.

You were aware of John’s connection to the Director, but to hear him talk about the Instructor in that perspective, you wondered how it felt like when an old colleague walks into your office to assassinate you. You suppose you were going to find out, given the situation. The Instructor didn’t talk much about her past and while she had trained, abused, and apparently favored you, you never knew what brought her to creating the program.

John’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar face. He gestured with a finger for you to come over, stepping aside so you could see. Marion had walked out of the building, heading towards the bus station where the last sighting of you and John were, having purposely drawing attention before losing them again. Once Marion left, a man and a couple stood near the entrance, their eyes scanning the area as they pretended to do menial tasks. One was on his phone facing left while the couple conversed facing the opposite direction in an angle.

“The blonde woman is Yuri and the dark haired man with her is Beck. They work better as a team, but their weaknesses show when they’re separated,” you found yourself saying, snippets of memories from training flashed through your mind like a camera shutter until it organized into a library of books and filing cabinets that you could sort through. “The other man on the phone is Victor. He’s a good shot, but his right knee is busted from an injury during a mission. He usually does ground work or long distance.”

“Back entrance?”

“Fire exits off on the sides, more secluded areas.”

“Fire escape?”

“They’re well-maintained except the left side that has a rusted ladder.”

“Room?”

“Near the front of the building. Windows facing the alleyway on the left. All of the wide windows were semi-blocked by strategically placed furniture until inspection. Fourth floor.”

“Okay, let’s go.” John took out a pocket sized metal device from the duffle bag and hid it in the corner, setting the timer before heading out with you close behind.

It wasn’t going to be a simple walk in. John insisted on going with you to the building, an argument filled with frustration and long pauses of stubborn silence and staredowns.

You walked ahead of him as the two of you made your way across the street with street lamps and the moon as a source of light. You instinctively grabbed John’s hand and pulled him closer to you. There were people who were willing to please the High Table and killing John Wick was the way to go. You weren’t much of a shield, as he was taller than you, but it was the thought that counts, so John followed your lead.

A businessman carrying a suitcase walked purposely forward, his body language giving away his next action. Your hidden blade shot out from under your sleeve and jabbed him in the armpit. You pull John with you as he staggered back.

“Can I have one?” John asked, his fingers tapping your wrist where the hidden blade was strapped to.

“Sure.”

Victor was already walking towards you as you approached. You flashed him a smile, striding forward and pushed him into the alleyway. John watched your back, looking out for Yuri and Beck as you rammed your foot on Victor’s right knee. He gritted his teeth in pain, trying to pull out his handgun before you hoisted yourself onto his hunched figure, wrapping your legs around his neck and used your weight and momentum to knock him down. You yanked his dominant hand away from his gun and pulled yourself up with your hidden blade drawn and stabbed his throat.

The gurgling noise was familiar to you now with the countless times that you dreamed of that night when you killed Sasha. You couldn’t get yourself to be emotionless towards it like how you used to, but you weren’t sure if you’d want to be that person anymore.

John reemerged into the alleyway, his hair disheveled and small blood spatter on his suit. He nodded over to you, helping you drag Victor’s body to a hidden corner of the alley. You took a moment to collect yourself then surveyed the area.

The ladder of the fire escape was dodgy, the edges rusty and the paint chipping and crumbling away. John pulled the ladder down, rust and paint shedding off of the metal as it lowered with a clang. He tested the durability with his weight, lifting himself up from the bottom rung causing it to groan.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go through the front door?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean,” you grimaced, hands on hips as you looked up at the fire escape, “kinda wanted to avoid running into more people. It’s not really my style, but…”

-

The elevator ride seemed slower than you remembered, smelling like cigarettes, sweat, and cleaning solution. You sighed, turning to John who was silently taking inventory of the weapons the both of you had, the possible escape routes if the fire escape didn’t work, estimating the amount of people that could be waiting for the both of you.

“Couldn’t take the stairs?” John asked.

“It conserves energy,” you defended, fixing his jacket and his hair. John watched you in amusement as you began to rub the blood spatter from his cheek with one hand while the other was playing with a soft lock of hair. “Besides, they won’t kill me. They’ll kill you, John.”

“You’re protecting me?”

You shrugged, pulling away but remained in front of him. “Someone has to.”

The elevator stopped at the third floor, the doors slid open, allowing two people in. They stood there without pressing a floor button and waited until the doors closed. You grabbed a throwing knife from your utility built, twirling it around your fingers until the elevator started moving again. One of the men whipped out a gun and went to shoot at you. John held his bulletproof jacket out and shielded you before wrestling the gun out of the man’s hands.

The other man approached you, but you were ready as you stabbed him in the chest. He grunted, pulling it out and throwing it on the floor. He grabbed your arms tightly to restrict your movements and pushed you against the doors as the elevator jolted onto the fourth floor. You kneed him in the groin and got your hidden blade out, getting him in the gut and wherever you could reach.

The doors opened again, making you fall backwards with the now bleeding man landing on top of you and using his weight to slam you down. The impact on your head made your vision blurred, and it didn’t help when he slammed your head down for a second time, making your ears ring. Your eyes vaguely seeing him pull an object from his jacket that triggered something in you.

The assassins that you’ve trained with, the ones that were sent to kill your family and those who worked to erase those events from existing, were scattered across New York. Some worked under the Italian mobs, few with the Chinese, and even the cartels. All of the ones that worked under the rivals of Tasarov were already killed by John Wick. There were a few groups that you had a working partnership with and was able to help you hunt the others down.

The more experienced assassins like Sasha were harder to track down, but they were the ones that the Instructor trusted with information the most. They were the ones that were tasked to put you down. It was at the docks out of all the places where they ambushed you. They held you down, they beat you near death, then injected you with some kind of drug. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious liquid or the injuries that knocked you unconscious.

When you wake up, you were in an apartment in New York, not knowing who you were or who were the people standing in your room.

The man was yanked off of you by an furious John Wick who shot two bullets in his chest and one in his head. Luckily, there was a suppressor on his gun, as it would have alerted the innocent people on the floor. If they were all innocent. After what you’ve realized that the past five years you were surrounded by lies, you wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole fourth floor were composed of assassins tasked to watch you.

After the man was dealt with and dragged into an alcove with the other one, John held out a hand for you to take. You shook yourself out of your daze and grabbed it. He helped hoist you up and tucked his handgun away. His eyes scanned over you for injuries, his eyebrows furrowed in worry and concentration.

“I’m okay, just dizzy,” you assured him.

He nodded, his hand hovering by your back in case you stumbled as you headed to your old apartment. The old key you had didn’t work, but John was quick and used the throwing knife you dropped and jammed it into the keyhole. He drew his gun out and went in first, sticking his head around before walking fully inside. You followed behind with your blade at the ready.

The two of you inspected the rest of the apartment and came up empty. You went back to your room and rifled through your belongings, hoping they hadn’t touched anything valuable. John handed you the duffle bag and helped you pack with essentials and person items. You wondered what else they took from you.

“I’m going to double check Marion’s room for something real quick,” you told John, leaving the room before you could reply.

You rushed over to her room before the thought could escape you. It was something that you’ve wanted to see ever since you started getting your memories back. You hoped that going back to the apartment would help with your memories and while it somewhat worked, there was something that you hoped that Marion had taken, if it meant that it wasn’t lost forever.

Her room was quite bare with not much of a personal touch. You sifted around her closet and under her bed, stomping on the floorboards and going through her drawers. When you came out with nothing, you took a moment to calm yourself and took in the room. A dark object under one of the desk’s legs that was partially under the drawer stood out.

You kneel down and lift the desk, sliding the object out. It was something wrapped in a black cloth that Marion had been using to keep her desk balanced. As you unraveled the cloth, the sight of a shiny metal edge made your heart race.

You tossed the cloth away and held out the object out. It was your vorpal blade.

You walked out into the main area and peeked out of the window towards the building across the street where you and John were. John walked up behind you and showed you his watch before pulling you out of the line of sight. Just as expected, one shot rang out, followed by an explosion.

-

“What do you mean he blew up?” Marion demanded, standing on the side in the rail station.

“Arlo did as you told him. The room blew up as soon as he took the shot, taking him and the other three with him.”

“And the other five?”

Silence.

Marion threw her Nokia against the wall and screamed, the sound echoing off the walls.

-

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A/N: Decided to write one of those “Previously on...”, which I haven’t done since my days on FF . net lol. I’m going to try and do this more, maybe add a summary for the first chap and a Previously on the second chap. Sorry if this chap is too wordy, but there’s stuff starting to go down. Lmk what you guys think. Thanks for reading!

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagines #Persephone #persephone p3 #keanu reeves imagines #Keanu Reeves