#him and avarice are such a good duo

[aezyrraeshh]

cyberpunk blorboverse, here we go. cp77 ocs introductions under the cut

So, I created a club. I am still figuring out its location, but it’s called Avarice, because I like how the word sounds and the meaning; it’s basically an extreme greed for money or other possessions, and the meaning fits for all of the ocs I came up with so far. 

The owner - or rather, owners are Rowan (they/them) and their sister Eddie (she/her). Rowan does most of the business, because after their father died, Eddie’s health became worse and she is mostly staying at home. They inherited the club from their father, and at first it was just that– a place where people go to get drunk, to dance or everything combined, but when their father passed and Eddie’s condition got so much worse because of the stress, Rowan knew they needed money and fast, and the best way to get it in Night City? Is to gain power. The club is not overly expensive, but it’s still up there (I’ll probably make a playlist with the songs to get the vibe of the Avarice) and it’s mostly a cover for the work Rowan does. They are a fixer, and the club helps them stay connected to what’s going on and to meet people, who can be useful later; the job isn’t something they enjoy too much, but it helps keep them and Eddie afloat, and they can’t deny how good the power and the money feels.  

Now, Rowan is more of a tactical force behind everything, they know how to fight, but they are not really a fighter per se, and so they have a right hand man, who does most of the dirty work. Ezra (he/him) is a childhood friend of the siblings, and they were close, but fall out after Ezra’s parents forced him to take into family steps and pursue a career in Arasaka. He didn;t like it at all, but the pressure from one’s family (And oh boy, can I tell you things about his family, besties. None of them are good) can be a hard thing to deal with, but he eventually snapped and left after messing things up for his family inside the corporation. Being wanted and unwanted at the same time, he tried to go into hiding and that’s where he reunited with Rowan again. After the club was working once again, Ezra helped Rowan earn their reputation, but he is more than a bodyguard, he is also a friend and a confidante; he still has connections in Arasaka circles and he is scary, because of Stuff. Teehee, but Ezra also suffers a lot of consequences because of the Stuff. He bit more than he could chew.  

Vivian or V (or Vivi, she/her), is a streetkid netrunner with too much ambition for her own good. Living with parents who didn’t give a shit got too much too soon, and V ran away at a young age, which caused her to do many questionable things to stay afloat. Some things she still regrets (but suppresses it quickly), some things she deems necessary, but through doing these ugly jobs she met a friend, Blair (he/him), and got to a point where she could learn the netrunning skills, in which she had a big interest. It quickly turned into an obsession, a quick fix if you will– in there she felt powerful even if she was an average skilled netrunner, diving deeper and deeper, she felt strong, surrounded by the Net V could almost drown in this and pretend that the world outside it didn’t exist. The opportunity to dive into it was everything to her, and she got greedy quickly, connecting her work as a merc to her new skills. Her and Blair were a good duo– he was a physical force while she assisted him from afar, they relied on each other, they trusted each other, because they were looking after each other for a long time, for Blair shared a similar fate to V’s. 

With the characters introduced, I want to set up a scene about their relationships >:) there’s a lot I am not saying, but I’m planning a chapter fic that should explain the story pretty well and I want to keep at least some things hush-hush for the intrigue lmao. 

So, V was running into Rowan occasionally, doing jobs for them here and there, but the relationship was pretty non-existent. She didn’t know anything about Ezra and he seemed just as indifferent so they weren’t close at all, but when Rowan needed a job done they approached V, because Blair and her weren’t too expensive and they were slowly making names for themselves in some circles (the job is important for them, but part of the reasons why they involved the chaotic duo is because they were sure that they won’t have a motive to steal the data and the things weren’t going too well for the club, so yeah, there are Reasons why they didn’t hire someone better). The job wasn’t supposed to be too hard, despite the shard being in itself of value to Rowan, but nothing is ever easy in Night City, isn’t it? 

While doing the job as per usual with Vivi assisting Blair from afar, they encountered a netrunner, who was way stronger than her. It was terrifying, and the moments when she felt her brain almost melting, the helplessness, the rush of cold water would be ingrained in her mind forever. She almost died that night, and she probably should’ve had. When she woke up, cold with barely moving fingers, with a sharp pain shooting down her back with each breath and with the way her eyes were blinded by the lights that seemed too bright, Ezra and other Rowan’s men came in to where she was, and everything became even worse. 

They took her to the Avarice, where Rowan asked questions about how the things went down, suspiciously so. When V finally lost it, asking what the fuck is going on and what happened after the netrunner tried to kill her, they explain that after V went dark so did Blair with the other netrunner and the security system shut down. Too much of a coincidence? Yeah, because it clearly wasn’t it. Blair disappeared with the shard, and they don’t know if he is dead, but they suspect that he fucked everyone over, including V. 

And so, because shit went down and Rowan’s resources were used during this, they basically tell V that she’s in debt :) and they tell her that she will have to find the shard and her friend, alive or not, with Ezra supervising her movements. It’s unfair, of course, but Rowan took a risk and they don’t like to admit that they lost and they are still not sure if V wasn’t really on it, despite the state she is in. And the story before the events will kick off from there.

But I want to word vomit some more, and just imagine how painful it is for Vivi– she is now scared to enter the Net, terrified even, because before it was like an escape, it was her place, and, of course, she encountered people way stronger than her there, but it never reached that point, where she would completely break. And now her friend has either died or betrayed her, and she has to pay off the debt for which she isn’t even responsible? OOF, everything went to shit, indeed. And the whole actually dying thing later in the game, oh, I have so many ideas for that already, like how Jackie would be the one to get her back in the merc business and how everything ended in tragedy ONCE AGAIN? AND SHE LOST A FRIEND AGAIN? AND SHE IS ACTUALLY DYING? SO MANY THOUGHTS.

But also like 👀 three people who distrust and dislike each other and then they start to like and care for each other. YESSS. And like they all fell because of their greed, and they reached their lowest points because of it.

And V’s arс with Ezra is pretty much “forced close proximity, I dislike you -> I dislike you, but you are fun -> I don’t know if I dislike you, but we are fucking now -> You are fine, I guess 😒 -> OH NO NO NO NO” and I love it, because she is chaotic (maybe even slightest bit unhinged), and he is too but he is hiding it really well, and I am all here for it. With Rowan it is harder, because they are so closed off, and I am still thinking over it, but I will make these three bitches care for each other, just watch me. 

Also I am now thinking really hard about Rowan/V/Ezra because..

#i am having so many thoughts #SO MANY THOUGHTS #THEY ARE MY LITTLE GUYS I LOVE THEM A LOT BUT THEY ARE JUST A BUNCH OF IDIOTS HELP THEM #nico.txt #♡: oc talk #just so y'all know i will rb this because i want y'all to precieve them

[overclockedroulette]

I don’t think I’ve ever made a proper post about Vega, have I?  If I have, so sorry, I guess you’re getting it again because. Vega Mochizuki my beloved.

So, first things first, he was born and raised in what is essentially a cult commune going by the Church of the Yawning Star: a group of people who worship the sea and everything in it, but don’t believe it should be, or even can be, controlled by a singular deity.  He wasn’t exactly against the more religious side of things - it was more just a regular process for him - so nothing really seemed out of the ordinary (he didn’t really have anything to compare it to).

A few years into his life, his sister, Delta, is born.  Delta is - for all intents and purposes - literally a living god.  More precisely, a physical manifestation of everything they worshipped (she’s referred to in one in-lore text as ‘the essence of the roiling sea’), so, naturally, Delta is doted on and payed attention to and - essentially - worshipped.  And Vega is... kind of left behind.  His father, Antari, barely pays him any heed in favour of his sister, and he’s not allowed to talk to her unless he’s deemed ‘worthy’ and ‘safe’ for her to interact with.  

(It’s not actually much better for Delta - I’ll make another post about her at some point, probably - but he’s still insanely jealous.)

Now, this experience - being the big brother of the literal messiah - messes Vega up a little.  He ends up desperate to come across as unique, or special, or anything other than just second-best - to the point that he lets some of the more innovation-minded members of the Church kind of experiment on him (and even that’s mostly due to his relation to Delta, but he tries not to think about that), which is how he ends up with blue blood.  (His skin also turns a pale blue when it comes into contact with water, but that one’s natural.)

And eventually, he just... has enough.  He figures that nobody would even notice him gone, and if they did, this would get their attention enough to at least make them stop ignoring him, and tries to throw himself off a cliff-side and into the ocean.

He fails.  A winged elf named Iliad sees him falling and catches him, brings him in, and nurses him back to health with the rest of her little group (The Empyrian Sect - Sage, Manifold, Camilla, Michelle, and Soots.  Never talked about them on here since they’re barely developed, but those are the names).  

He doesn’t join, though. They offer, but at this point he so desperately wants to do something big that he feels he has to try something more.  So, he joins Polaris as a researcher, figuring he can make some big scientific or magical discovery and be remembered for that (plus, he likes insects - specifically butterflies - and being able to study them is a bonus).  And, eventually, that leads to him being hired by Fabrica Kiriatta alongside a certain, significantly more homicidal scientist to assist her with the... issue, in Redglass.  He doesn’t agree with the concept, obviously - much less the methods that Avarice insists on using - but the man has the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair, so of course, he agrees nonetheless.  

He’s also deathly afraid of thunderstorms.  Ever since he left the Church, he’s felt that he’s betrayed his deity, and every thunderstorm he just can’t shake the feeling that this is divine punishment, and he’s going to be struck down for being a traitor.  For a similar reason, despite his... opinions on the deity that defined the large majority of his life, he never audibly speaks ill of it, and in fact often reflexively says a small prayer whenever drinking water (Avarice hates that, obviously), because he feels that letting himself think those thoughts - nevermind saying them out loud - is blasphemy, and he’s going to be punished for it.

#cult tw #tw religious trauma #suicide tw #tw attempted suicide #vega mochizuki #him and avarice are such a good duo #since he should probably be more angry about what happened to him #and avarice needs to be a little less angry just. in general. #plus they help each other out with the religious side of things #neither of these fucks know what they're doing. #but damn if avarice doesn't find himself flipping off the sea when he's nearby #or if vega doesn't find himself glaring at the moon ocassionally #they both think the other is a total jackass. but that doesn't impede the fact that they feel SO protective of each other. #oc #d&d oc #oc writing #changeling oc

[m0srael]

The Fourth King

2k | T Rating | Implied death

This is the second in what will be an ongoing series about H&D as stage magicians, in love and in trouble like all good magical duos. Read the first here! This is for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: King. Thanks to @phoebedelia for the beta!!! Read on Ao3.

“No, no, for fuck’s sake Harry, I’ve explained this a hundred times--”

“You explained it exactly three times, Draco, and each time has been different!”

“Yes, well, I’m trying to find a way that penetrates your thick skull--”

“Fuck off, all the way off, out of England if you can. Sit down, let me try again, I think I’ve got it…”

----

The room was more opulent than any other Potter and Malfoy had performed in. The vaulted ceilings were crusted in elaborate crown moulding, the Baroque frescoes painted there almost blindingly bright. Any surface that could have been gilded, was. The air was warm and still--Harry thought he could hear the distant tinkling of a pianoforte.

They were set up at the front of the room, staring down a phalanx of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs occupied by even more uncomfortable-looking aristocrats. The ladies were all breathing shallowly, fanning themselves with lacy fans clutched in gloved hands. Harry couldn’t help but notice the way several of them fluttered their eyelashes at Draco. The gentlemen each clutched a crystal glass of dark liquor, their eyes glazed and distant.

Jones had managed to procure them each a second-hand tuxedo, fine enough that they wouldn’t insult their hosts by their mere presence, but not so fine as to suggest they didn’t know their place. Draco thought Harry looked quite dashing in a tailcoat. He might tell him later, if they found one another again.

Potter and Malfoy had been booked for an hour-long performance and judging by any one of the seven ornate clocks scattered about the large room, they had ten minutes to pull off their final trick. It was more than enough time.

----

“Listen to me, Rose got her hands on the guest list, they’ll all be there. We will never have another opportunity like this, Harry.”

“Yeah, I get that, but--”

“No ‘buts’. My love--Harry, please. We’ve gone over it a hundred, a thousand, times! We will not...cannot...fail.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Draco! What if something goes wrong, what are we supposed to do if we can’t get it? What do we do if we can?”

“We’ll get it. Harry, we’ll get it. We’ve been patient for so long. I need you to trust me.”

----

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Malfoy’s deep voice resonated around the cavernous space. “I’m afraid the time has come for our final act. It is a simple, but elegant, illusion. Are you watching closely?”

Potter stepped forward from where he’d been leant against the vanishing cabinet situated on the far left of the low stage, opposite the second cabinet on the right. “We’d like to tell you a story,” he said in a soft voice. The thick blanket of stale air seemed to ripple with the low, wooden creak as the audience leaned forward as one. Potter flicked his wrist and a deck of cards appeared, pinched between the pads of his thumb and first two fingers. A woman in the third row gasped, softly. He fanned the cards out and extended his arm, moving it first to the left, then to the right.

“Your Grace,” Malfoy said, bowing and gesturing expansively at the Duke to invite him onstage, “This act requires your...particular participation.” After a moment, the Duke made his way onto the stage, accompanied by polite applause.

Potter bent at the waist, extending the deck out toward the Duke. “If you please, Your Grace, examine these cards and confirm for us that this is a complete and unaltered deck.” The Duke took his time. He fingered every card, turned them this way and that, counted silently. After a minute he looked at the audience, “Yes, this seems to be a perfectly normal deck of playing cards.”

“If it pleases Your Grace, would you remove the four kings from the deck--yes, hand them right to Potter here--and then give it a good shuffle?” Malfoy asked. The Duke complied, plucking the four king cards out of the deck one-by-one.

“This is a story about time...and greed; about four kings driven by selfishness and consumed by avarice.” Potter paced the length of the stage with the four cards splayed in his hand, slowing here and there as an audience member leaned in for a closer look. He stopped to the left of the Duke.

“You see, these kings,” Malfoy continued, coming to stand opposite Potter, “have stolen something that does not belong to them. Something priceless and very important. They are under the mistaken impression that this item will bring them wealth and influence.” Draco turned to face the Duke, holding his eye contact.

“What would you do,” Potter said as he, too, turned to face the Duke, “if someone took something from you, something precious? Would you...call the police? Confront the thief? Would you ask your neighbors for help, or keep quiet out of fear and shame? Would you do whatever it took to get it back?”

----

“Draco, I know I say this every bloody day, but you’ve finally lost your mind. It’s too risky. We don’t have enough time...the dinner is tomorrow night!”

“Look at me, Harry, bloody hell, stop and look into my eyes--”

“Stop it, you always do this…”

“Yes! Harry! Because someone has to ensure that we...that our family...that we make it back and unless you have a better suggestion--”

“Jones said! He said he’s got a lead on a series of gigs and sure, it will take longer, but it’s better than risking our bloody--”

“A SERIES OF GIGS? You would rather...keep doing cheap illusions for a bunch of drunks who couldn’t care less, getting beer--OR WORSE--poured over our heads every night…”

“WE NEED MORE TIME, DRACO! We need...you haven’t thought this through properly!”

“Hah! More time! Time is all we have, now, Harry!”

“I can’t lose you...again…”

----

Potter and Malfoy walked around the Duke in a slow, tight circle, heads bowed to the floor as if contemplating their own answers to the question. They came to a stop in their original positions, making eye contact with one another. “The kings have learned that the rightful owners of their pilfered treasure are planning to break into the palace,” Malfoy said gesturing with his free hand at the kingless deck he held in the other, “and steal it back. They form a foolproof plan to thwart them.”

“The first king decides to set a guard on the ground floor of the palace, surely the thieves will try to enter through the portcullis,” Potter slid the king of clubs into the deck near the bottom card.

“The second king thinks that the thieves can’t be so stupid as to walk right in through the front door, so he sets a guard on the second floor of the castle. They will scale the walls and enter through a window, surely!” Malfoy slid the king of spades into the deck just below the middle.

“The third king knows that the treasure has been stored in the vaults on the top floor of the palace, he intends to set a guard there and catch the thieves red-handed.” Potter slid the king of diamonds into the deck just below the top.

“The fourth king, however, thinks himself cleverest of them. He sets his guard on the roof of the palace.” Malfoy lifted the final card, the king of hearts, and placed it gently on the top of the deck before holding it out in front of the Duke’s chest “From his vantage point, he can see everything: the portcullis, the palace walls, the windows in the highest towers, the lands surrounding the palace. He will watch closely and raise an alarm as soon as he sees movement in the dark. He can gather his brethren so they can rain arrows, stones, and boiling fat down on the intruders before they ever breach the palace walls.”

“In the small hours of the morning the fourth king hears what he has been waiting for,” Potter nearly whispered, cupping a hand around his ear as if he, too, could hear it, “the sound of hoof-beats echoing through the trees near the palace. The fourth king called down to his compatriots, urging them to hurry to the roof.” Harry tapped the top of the deck in Draco’s hand, hard, with his middle finger. The gentleman sitting closest to him jumped at the solid thud the gesture produced.

Malfoy fluttered the long fingers of his free hand over the deck before lifting the top four cards. A wave of surprise rolled through the audience as they realized that he held all four kings. They began clapping, hesitantly at first, then more enthusiastically.

----

“Draco, please, we can call it off now. We can just do the gig, get our money, and go home. There will be other--”

“There will never be another opportunity like this, I’m not going to say it again. It’s too late, anyways, the triggers have been set and the charms can’t be reversed.”

“That can’t...but you PROMISED! You said, if we changed our minds we could--”

“I know what I said, Harry, I know. I’m sorry. I love you so much. I love you so much and we have to do this. I had to be sure that we have no choice but to go through with it. This is the only way.”

“You also promised you would find me, will you break that, too? How can I trust you to do that now?”

“Because I will always find you, Harry. I always have. It’s the only thing I am ever perfectly certain of.”

----

Potter held up a silencing hand, never taking his eyes off the Duke’s face. He waited until the room fell quiet once more. “What the fourth king failed to consider was that the men--back to retrieve what was rightfully theirs--had been inside the palace all along. They divined the kings’ plan before the kings themselves concocted it.”

“In fact, the men had already taken back their property, long before the kings set their watches that night,” Malfoy felt the right pocket of his jacket sag under a sudden weight. He tipped Potter a gentle wink as he handed over the four kings, then waved his free hand over the deck. Malfoy used both hands to fan the cards, face out. They were blank, every one. The audience began to murmur, ladies’ fans fluttered and men gestured with their now-empty glasses. “Your Grace, I believe this is yours?” Potter said, handing him the king of hearts.

Potter and Malfoy began to walk backwards, slowly, toward the vanishing cabinets. “As I mentioned, this story--like so many--is about greed.” Potter said loudly over the cheering audience, “More specifically, this story is about what happens to men so eaten up by greed that they no longer care who they hurt in their pursuit of power.” The king of hearts burst into flame in the Duke’s hand, drawing another collective gasp from the audience.

They opened the doors of the vanishing cabinets at the same moment. Harry turned to face Draco, his gaze hot and pleading, tears stinging his eyes. Draco nodded quickly at him, his smile watery and wavering, before stepping inside. As Harry pulled the door closed behind him he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor, followed by a high, piercing shriek, before the dark consumed him.

#drarrymicrofic #drarry fanfic #drarry fic rec #Where does the fake magic end and the real magic begin #Will they ever make it home? Tune in next week to find out #Maybe #minimose

[dahniwitchoflight]

KH: The Foreteller’s Animal Masks

This is half fun facts / half theory but basically it’s a list of which Sins/Foretellers are associated with which animals AND where the inspirations for the animal associations came from, since there’s actually a few different sources!

The first would be the Ancrene Wisse, which was a sort of field guidebook for Anchoresses (Female Abbesses/Monks/Nuns basically) containing rules of conduct and behavior 

https://www.hermitary.com/articles/ancrene.html

This goes into many things that honestly have cool thematic ties with symbolism for stuff in Kingdom Hearts, which I could honestly make a whole post in it’s own for tbh, but for here were focusing on one passage:

“The wilderness is the solitary life of the anchoress's dwelling, for just as in the wilderness there are all the wild beasts, and they will not endure men coming near but flee when they hear them, so should anchorites, above all other women, be wild in this way, and then they will be desirable, above other women, to Our Lord. 

In this wilderness are many evil beasts: the lion of pride, the snake of poisonous envy, the unicorn of anger, the bear of dead sloth, the fox of covetousness, the sow of gluttony, the scorpion with the tail of stinging lechery, that is, lust.”

So, we start out with a nice base for some of the Sin/Foretellers:

Ira - Wrath - Unicorn - Unicornis

Avaritia - Greed - Fox - Vulpes

Acedia - Sloth - Bear - Ursus

Invidia - Envy - Snake - Anguis

but then wait, here Gula/Gluttony is a Sow, a Pig, but in KH it’s a Leopard

As well as recently in KH, they’ve made it clear that Luxu/Luxuria is a Goat, not a Scorpion (As cool as a Scorpion would have been for Luxu’s emblem, but a bit too on the nose I suppose haha)

Well, interestingly enough, did you know that back when the 7 deadly sins was actually more like the 8 Evil Things once? And that they were also grouped into a Trio of their own? 

(Despair as Tristitia being the 8th one, because it’s essentially the sin of falling to sorrow/sadness or giving up, of blinding yourself to other’s troubles and causing sorrow in return or being too sorrowful to act, later it was folded into Sloth as a lack of diligence) 

But the 3 Major sin groupings was essentially the three Reasons that people would sin the deadly sins

Incontinence: Doing wrong because they couldn't help it. Or sinning from a lack of moderation or self-control.

Violence: Doing wrong because of anger, revenge or retaliation. Or sinning from by trying to force your will externally

Fraud/Corruption: Doing wrong on purpose in order to hurt other's. Or sinning from betrayal, lies and manipulation. 

These three things form a sort of Unholy Trinity in opposition with the Divine trinity of Father-Son-Holy Spirit

And, very famously, Dante’s Inferno links these three groupings to three creatures from a famous bible verse describing the destruction of humanity via it's own nature:

Jeremiah 5:6 - “Therefore a lion from the forest shall slay them, and a wolf from the desert shall destroy them. A leopard is watching against their cities, every one who goes out of them shall be torn in pieces because their transgressions are many, their apostasies are great.”

A Lion, A Leopard and A Wolf.

Now based on Dante’s actual writing which grouping with which animal and which sins is often debated, but usually it’s roughly as follows:

Leopard of Incontinence: Gluttony, Greed, Luxuria (from Immoderation, Extravagance, Wastefulness)

Lion of Violence: Wrath, Pride (from Murder, Suicide, Squandering, Blasphemy)

Wolf of Fraud/Corruption: Envy, Sloth, Sorrow/Despair (Tristitia) (from Corruption, Thievery, Falsifier, Betrayal) (yeah... old timey people did indeed view what was essentially depression as a “willful” sin aka something people did on purpose to hurt themselves, like they drown in their sorrows willingly because of a refusal to heal themselves or as a willing corruption of their soul, nowadays if it existed would definitely be thought of a Leopard sin I’d think)

So here it’s very easy to see where Leopardos and Gula get tied together, because in KH the sin of Gluttony is lifted above the other’s in the group, which makes sense because being gluttonous for money is greed, being gluttonous for luxuries was Luxuria (or sex for lust)

And here also, the Sin of Pride/Superbia is again associated with the Lion as it is in the Ancrene Wisse (though it’s also associated with Wrath strongly as well, so no wonder MoM chose Ira to be the next leader after he was gone)

So in all likelihood, this means that the symbol of the Master of Masters is most likely a Lion of Pride, Superbia (and if he had his own union, it might be something like Leo or Panthera) 

But honestly the biggest thing that definitely makes MoM the Lion of Pride is the passage in the Ancrene Wisse that elaborates upon the Lion of Pride, describing it as having “many cubs”:

“But the author continues the animal analogies, enumerating a classification of the sins. "The lion of pride has very many cubs," he states, and enumerates them: vainglory, indignation, hypocrisy, presumption, disobedience, loquacity, blasphemy, impatience, contumacy, contention, "airs and graces." “

Reminds me of both MoM’s many apprentices or Master Xehanort’s collection in the organization

Though the REAL reason is also because did you know when KH was still being thought of and designed, Nomura actually wanted to make Sora a Half-Lion Chainsaw Wielder and we all know Sora is secretly the MoM right lol

But anyway, that explains Gula being a Leopard

So then where did all this talk of Luxu being a Goat come from?

Well one reason could be that later on as the deadly sins got solidified as just the seven of them, and as their meanings changed from umbrella terms to more specific sins, their animal interpretations also started to differ:

Avarice/Greed = Toad/Frog 

Invidia/Envy = Snake

Ira/Wrath = Lion

Acedia/Sloth = Snail

Gula/Gluttony = Pig

Luxuria/Lust = Goat

Superbia/Pride = Peacock

Also Ira with a Lion mask would be cool but can you imagine a Snail Aced or a Froggy Ava? lol

But it IS Cool to think that these “Modernized” animals could then become the emblems of the Union Leaders that inherited Ava’s legacy, since they are the newer versions of those Unions, obviously there’s no one to Inherit MoM’s legacy

But you could easily think of Ventus as the “Traitor” aka the scapeGoated 6th for the new group, leaving Frogs, Snakes, Lions, Snails and Pigs for the other five 

(I wonder who I’d put with who... Ephemer, Skuld, Lauriam, Strelitzia and Brain... the only sin associated with Death would be Wrath (As Suicide) and the “Ira” position appears to be the one who inherits the leader, and it’s theorized Strelitzia was the circled name supposed to get the Book of Prophecies

So Strelitzia = Lion/Wrath

Ephemer and Ava always seemed to be the closest and he was the one who seemed to inherit her Legacy the most so he can get Frogs/Greed

Brain is similar to Gula in how they calmly investigate issues and try to uncover the truth and got extra information than the others, so Pigs/Gluttony for him

Lauriam was the poster boy for temptation into darkness, which is what Darkness was intended when his sister Strelitzia was killed, for him to be the first to fall to rage and grief, nice Aced parallel as the one everyone suspected of falling to darkness first so he gets Snails/Sloth, fitting for the flower elemental lol

and that leave Skuld and Invi which also makes sense as the parallel for the person who tries to intervene in conflicts and mediate for the group, so Skuld gets Snake/Envy

Neat!

But anyway back to Luxu, I think Luxu is represented by the Goat not just because of the above modern listings, but also because of the special place of evil that Christian religions tend to place on Goat itself

If the Lamb is the most common symbol of Jesus Christ, the Goat has always been a symbol of the Evil of Lucifer. Sheep and Goats, despite being so similar, have always been seen as this symbolic duo. Sheep and Lambs being submissive, complacent, docile, while Goats are crazy, willful, destructive and etc likely because since they are so close in nature, they are basically seen as the Good and Evil version of the same animal, a Goat is essentially a heretical false Lamb

They are very commonly associated with the Devil/Lucifer himself and goats have always gotten the short end of stick, all the way back to the old tradition of using goats as well, scape-goats literally. The practice of singling out a particular creature or person and placing all the sin and blame onto it, and then driving it away

Luxu is singled out from the group, likely given the role of “Traitor” amongst the six of them and then is forced into essentially exile to the future by MoM where he can do nothing but watch and wait, never able to interfere or meddle with anything

And this reasoning of the Goat fits Luxu above all others.

So there we have it, finally at the end:

Ira/Wrath - Unicorn/Unicornis

Avaritia/Greed - Fox/Vulpes

Acedia/Sloth - Bear/Ursus

Invidia/Envy - Snake/Anguis

Gula/Gluttony - Leopard/Leopardus

and if Luxu and MoM had union names, (which seem to be just be taken from the genus of the animal directly) they’d likely be:

Luxuria/Lust - Goat/Caprini

Superbia/Pride - Lion/Panthera

But I think the Most Interesting Thing to glean from all of this, is going back to the 3 Groupings for the 8 evil things, can you imagine if KH ever decides to give MoM a little backstory, and a figure based on the Wolf of Fraud/Corruption, emblem of Despair came into the picture somewhere?

Something that might look a little like this?

Hey that’s interesting, isn’t this the special secret boss Dark Hide from Aqua’s Fragmentary Passage? Y’know, that journey all about Aqua falling into the pits of Despair where she then ends up fighting The First Real Pureblood Heartless she ever faces in the Realm of Darkness? Something that Aqua felt was Willfully and Intentionally Stalking her through the depths, instead of mindlessly attacking her?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQGONhqs0mU

Isn’t that interesting how all of things, they give this boss the opportunity for the player to see through it’s eyes, something very unique, and how it initially appears as a formless Darkness

And isn’t Darkness itself, given a will and a personality, now a figure in KHUX Dark Road, that has specific ties to the MoM, as Luxu describes as being a fellow student and/or old friend of MoM?

Could the Will of Despair manifested from darkness come to be a secret 8th apprentice of MoM?

Who knows, but it’s interesting how that symbolism lines up isn’t it?

#KH #Kingdom Hearts #KHUX #KHUXDR #Darkness

[randaccidents]

Under Arrest

Yeye another fic! This has been waiting as long as Good Night has, and I finally got it out! It’s kinda messy but I think I like it like that :3

Set directly after Good Night.

Song used! Cause I gotta remember to link the song!

Shadow People AU by the gentle @mine-sara-sp

TW: nightmare mention, Demise mention

but this fic is very much light and funny!

Someone is under arrest for not resting crimes

---------

knockknockTHUNKknockknockknockTHUNKTHUNKkno-

"Geez! Who's makin' that racket! I'm tryin to sleep 'ere!"

Bdubs was quickly shushed by his friends around him, eyes flickering over to check on Wels. Chagrined, Bdubs quickly quieted down. “Could someone at least get whoever it is to stop?” he stage-whispered.

“That might be a problem Bubbles.”

Several sets of eyes followed the direction that Keralis was pointing in, cringing backwards slightly when they realised who the problem was. More accurately, two someones.

knockTHUNKTHUNKknockknockknockTHU-

“I’m not dealing with that man, I may fear no hermit, but those things scare me.” The cyborg- creeper shuddered lightly. “Theys unnatural.”

The ensuing soft scuffle was interrupted when Cub stood up with a sigh, Brushing himself down, the hermit carefully maneuvered his way over to the window, avoiding sprawled out arms and legs. Reaching the window, he inspected it, quickly finding that the central section could swing outwards. The knockers had withdrawn their hands, waiting impatiently for Cub to open the window.

Taking a deep breath, he unhooked the latch, quickly shoving the upper half of his body out the window to the surprised shouts of his friends. Crossing his arms in an attempt to look less afraid then he felt, Cub addressed the impatiently bouncing duo outside. "Can’t you two be quieter?"

“W̏ͭ̒a̘͉̅ͣ̚n̗̱̑͛͊ț̲̝̮͔̎ͬ ̇̈́̃́̈ͤW͈̹͙̟͙͈e̼̳͕̜̼̱͓l̜͕s͉̙̞̮͍̦͍̉̃̓̈́!̩̱͚͇̏” “W͎̼̯̮̺̞̬h̖͈͔̪͆̅ͭ͒̈́̊ệ̯͚̫͕ͮ͐r̮̘͊e͎̳̙̲̘̘͌̀̍͗?͖̣̼̠̱͎̻”

Cub flapped his hands at them gently, shushing them. “He’s sleeping. He had a rough night, so if you want to be let in, quiet down, got it?”

The two shadows tilted their heads gently, mirrored yet opposite in direction, bumping their heads together in the process. “Ṟ̙ö̬̩̜̭̭́ͭ̾ͅu͙̠̤̅̏ͧg̑̋ḧ̖̙̝ͫ ͓̟̓̎̌n͆i̒̂g̈̈h͔̭̜͊̅͗ͅt̠̩?͐̑ͧ” “K͊͊͊nͬ̾i̼̥̝͍̼̜̎̆ͮ̃ġ̥̻͈̹h̬̼̦̻͙̓ͧ̎t̍ ͓̙̣͇̺̪̣̚tͥi͎̿r͙e̙͖̝d̒?͛”

“Yes, and if you keep up your noise he’s going to wake up and feel bad.” Cub hissed at them. “Whatever you want can wait this one time, can’t it?”

The two seemed to consider, twittering lightly at each other, before turning to face him in sync, giving him a singular clear chirp. Cub shuddered, he will never understand how Wels figured out how to deal with them calmly. Bracing his arms against the window frame in preparation to head back inside, a sudden realisation hit him. “And no murder. Everyone will scream, our communicators will make noise, he’s gonna wake up. Got it?”

The shadows whined pitifully at him, but nodded their heads at his stern glare. Satisfied, Cub finally popped himself back inside, turning to face everyone who was awake. “Guys, don’t panic.” he hurriedly said.

And just in time too, as the vexdows materialised into the room. Predictably, there was the general noise of panic and fear, although uncharacteristically hushed. Avarice and Keloid didn’t quite seem to care, speedily pinpointing where Wels lay and leaping over hermits to loom over Biffa and Jevin. The two were the only ones who were unafraid, if only because they were currently highly protective over Wels. “Touch him and we will end you,” Biffa hissed, Jevin nodding furiously beside him.

To their surprise, the two shadows didn’t become violent or angry, instead finding a space to sit down, keeping a gentle eye on Wels. “Uh.”

The vexed shadows mutely hissed at them. “S̺̗l̫̬̫̻̮̻͚̒ͭ̽̑ē̳̭̺͒͛͒̉̚e̲͕̯̓ͦ̆͗͂p͖̮̱̖͙̀î̞͖͂͆̅̾͂n͇ͨ̏͑g̤̜̋ͤ̆!̝̫̟̪̊̎̊͗ͧ̊” Avarice whisper-shouted, Keloid nodding rapidly beside them.

Biffa and Jevin gawked at them, sharing a look. This was… new. Normally, the vexed shadows were a lot more aggressive. They looked down at their still sleeping friend, tear tracks dried on his face. What had Wels done to make them so tame?

Jevin nudged Biffa lightly. “Might as well get some more sleep, yeah?” he whispered.

Biffa side-eyed the shadows cautiously. “You get some more sleep. I don’t quite trust them.” he whispered back.

Jevin shrugged, gently easing himself back into the mess of blankets and pillows, jostling Wels slightly. The knight grumbled in his sleep, turning to latch onto Jevin’s hoodie and snuggle into it. Smiling softly, Jevin gently put his arms around Wels before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Biffa smiled down at his two friends being cute, before a noise caused his head to snap back to the vexed shadows sat opposite. He pointed two fingers at his head before turning them sharply to point at the two shadows. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

Keloid perked up, shoving three of their arms into some of Avarice’s tiny faces before pointing them at Biffa. “Eͣẙ͗̉e͗ͧ ̠͈̲̣͐̀̒o̲̙̮̎n̍ ̔̐͛y͌o̼̟̟̓̉u̻͍!̀̽̑” they giggled, Avarice quickly shoving a large hand into their face to muffle their over-excited laughter.

Biffa blinked. On one hand, that was adorable, in the way that toddlers were. On the other hand, the way they said that was very disturbing. Casting his gaze around the room, he saw that while the hermits had found their own clusters to chat amongst, at least one person in each group was looking over their shoulder, monitoring the shadows who were now playing with each others’ hands. Sighing, he leaned against the wall, resigned to watching Avarice and Keloid.

-----------------

Wels woke slowly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Dimly, he realised that he hadn’t woken from a nightmare this time, and silently gave thanks. He smooshed his face further into the fabric before him, too comfortable to really move.

“Hey, Wels, you awake?” A hand placed itself on his shoulder, tilting his body slightly. He brushed it aside, turning back into the warm darkness. Muffled laughter issued from above him. “Yep, he’s awake alright.”

Another hand touched his arm as the fabric surface he was cuddled against pulled away, shaking him lightly. “Come on Wels, wake up. It's almost midday and you have visitors.” said another voice.

Wels sighed internally. Guess he did have to get up. Releasing the comfortable fabric, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, stretching his arms above his head. “What is it, what is it,” he grumbled, eyes still refusing to open. He could hear Jevin giggle next to him. “Uh, might wanna open your eyes Wels.”

Grumbling, he opened his eyes. And blinked. "Who let them in here? They're going to steal all the diamonds." He whispered, pointing at the two shadows who were still obliviously toying with their hands.

Cub raised his hand. "I did, and don't worry, we've been keeping an eye on them this whole time, no way they stole any diamonds."

Wels dragged a hand down his face, quickly blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Oh you guys have no clue," he muttered. Turning, he called out to the shadows. "Keloid! Avarice!"

Their heads snapped upwards lightning fast, wide unnatural grins only growing upon seeing the knight awake. "Wͧ̍ͫ͑e̒l̎ͤs!̒̒” “̞̭̲͚̩́̈́̒ͯͨẄ́ḛ̗̭̞̫̄l̾ͩsͦ!̞̅͒” “̭̗͉͔̻̤̰̋̅ͪͦW̖̰̤̊̿ͥe̍́l̗̱͈̫̑̔sͤ!ͣͣ” “̝̦̣̓͗ͧ̉Wͭë̘̹̒͆̿̒ls̽ͭ!̆ͬͤ" they crowed, bouncing on the spot, clearly wanting to crowd around Wels but limited by the lack of space around them.

Wels made a motion like pushing down air with one hand, laughing at their antics. "Calm down, calm down, I'm awake. Thank you for waiting until I woke up this time." The shadows beamed at the praise. Wels quickly moved on before they could get too rowdy. "Now before we get to why you're here…" His gaze sharpened as he glared at the vexed shadows. "Give the diamonds back. I know you have them."

Avarice leaned back slightly, face the picture of innocence. Behind it, Keloid averted their eyes, whistling a bird's tune.  "Ẇ͗h͔͚͆̂a͕͙̟̫ͩ̈́t͇̣̟̠̺ ̄ͥs̭̾̽ͫ͑h͚͍̠͉̱̰̣i̓͂̿ṉ̰ͦí̟̬̞̼͎̊̌̑e̼̮̜̗̖̱ͧ̃s͙̪̭̪̞?̂ͣ"

Wels narrowed his eyes at them, unconvinced by their act. "Stop stalling, you know what you've done. You two are never able to sit still unless you have diamonds. Give it back to them."

The shadows whined, but quickly crumbled under Wels' glare. Keloid reached behind it's back and pulled out 10 diamonds, gently placing them on one of Avarice's floating blue hands. The hand floated across the room, stopping to dump the diamonds into a confused Ren's lap before floating back. "Wait a minute…" Ren leaned back, shuffling through his pockets and finding them empty. He whirled back around to point at the smug looking vex shadows, incredulous. "How did you guys do that? Doc is the most observant man I know!"

Wels smirked knowingly. "They have their ways." The shadows cackled proudly at those words, adding an ominous layer to his words. Wels turned back to face Avarice and Keloid, missing how his friends cringed at their laughter. "On to business. Why are you two here? Paladin hasn't died again right?"

The two shook their heads, their bodies moving along with it. There was some mild commotion as the hermits nearest the vexed shadows took cover from flailing arms and wings that he ignored. “C̩̯̩aͥ̋m̼͙̬̰è̑̏ f̆̆ỏ͈̘͕̣̮͖̾̌̌r̻̻̗̐ ̬̫̖́͊ͯͅyͩ̋o͔̙̰ͅu̗͔̼̼͈͈̼̽!̯̖̮͓̺͓̙ͥ”

Wels raised an eyebrow, unconcerned by the disturbing phrasing of the sentence. “That’s new. Why?”

Keloid’s face conveyed the emotion of concern better than Avarice’s many laughing faces. “S̘̠͖̭̻̎̾͋ḧ́̐iͨ̏̚ny ̃ͣ̌n̰͖͚̣͂ͧ͂o̾̑t͇̯̙̠͖͕̎ͩ̆ ̑ȓ͛̊̚ͅe̔ͧ́̍ș̖͑̉tͯ̅!̊́͌ ͍̻̰̥̳̬ͦN̻e͓͌̿ͮe̍͋d̜͚͎̰̦̠͕́͊ ̀̇̚yo͋̒u̟̹̬̖̭͚̾̽ ̓͒h̟̏͛ͅeͮͮ̇l̲͕̻̮͚̣̭ṗͭ!͐”

Wels frowned in thought as he pieced together the rag-tag bits of information he was given. “So Paladin isn’t taking any breaks?” he questioned, receiving twin affirming clicks in response. “And you want me to come help you deal with it?” he guessed. Another set of affirming clicks.

Guess that settles it. Pushing back against the wall, Wels pushed himself up from the comfort of the blanket nest below him. “Alright, let me just do my morning stuff and suit up before we go.” he said, moving to step over his friends.

A pair of hands latched onto his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Instantly, the shadows began hissing aggressively, drawing the clatter of weapons being drawn. Wels sighed. He held his hand up high in a universal stop gesture, pitching his voice above the noise. “Calm down! The lot of you! Act more mature!”

All sound in the room froze, shocked by Wels' sudden outburst. Wels didn't just get angry and shout, Wels was calm and collected. The hands on his arm increased in pressure and weight for a moment, nothing he couldn't handle, and then he had two hermits hanging off of his shoulders. He tilted his head gently in acknowledgement, smiling softly. "Morning Biffa, morning Jevin, whaddya want?"

Biffa pulled himself up into a more upright position, leaning down to whisper into Wels’ ear. “Are you sure you’ll be safe going alone with them? You know they’re dangerous.” On his other shoulder, Jevin nodded in agreement, head bouncing up and down. Wels smiled softly at their concern. “Guys, I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first time and it won’t be the last. At least they asked this time instead of spiriting me away.”

“But you haven’t been sleeping lately. You’re still tired, I can feel it.”

Wels winced at the implications behind Jevin’s words, hurriedly covering it up under a confident tone. “I’ll be fine, I trust them not to harm me, they’ve come so far. Do you trust me?"

He could feel his friends flinch at his implied accusation, guilt slithering down his spine. It was a low blow, but he also knew they were all on a time limit that was as long as the Avarice and Keloid felt like, and he had probably wasted so much of it sleeping. He had to get moving now.

Thankfully, with only a quick side glance, Biffa and Jevin let him go with a nod. Shooting them a glance in thanks, he headed for the bathroom with quick steps. Stopping just inside the doorframe, he leaned out to shout, "And no murder of any kind! Anyone tries something and all of you are out of my house, with me still in it! Are we clear?"

"Yes dad!" came a clear British voice over the general chatter of agreement and twittering chirps, followed swiftly by another, gruffer voice shouting “Ok, Boomer!” Wels whipped back around. "Who said that? I just want to talk to you young man." he said in a mock-threatening voice, eliciting laughter from the crowd. He spied Mumbo, the mustached man grinning proudly, hi-fiving an equally overjoyed TFC in the back. Shaking his head in mock disappointment, Wels left the room, muttering about ‘kids these days’ and ‘no respect for their elders’, to the hooting laughter of the hermits.

Door now closed firmly behind him, Wels quickly unlatched the leather bracers from his arms, rubbing his arms. He might be used to wearing armour everywhere, but having them on 24/7 made him long for the softness of a shirt again. Absentmindedly tracing the edges of his scars, he made quick work of his armour, making sure that the chainmail undershirt covered his neck fully. Tugging lightly to ensure that everything was a snug fit, Wels pushed the door open again.

And had to duck to avoid the dirt block thrown in his direction. Offended howls and raucous laughter greeted him as he slipped back into the room. Somehow, no one had noticed his return.

And honestly, that was a blessing in disguise. Observing how the hermits had now clustered around where Avarice and Keloid had been sitting, he wondered what they could be doing as he tiptoed his way to one of the tables that had been pushed aside. Grabbing the pack he had stored inside, he scrambled up onto the table, trying to see what his friends were up to this time.

He observed his friends throwing items to each other, tools, dirt, stone, diamonds, wood all flying through the air. Diamonds were held up like bait before being thrown across the circle, the vexed shadows in the middle having no space to manoeuvre, grey-blue hands instead reaching up to grasp at the items flying by, flailing in an uncoordinated attempt. A piece of wood was snapped up between Keloid’s elbows, observed, then thrown out of the circle with a howl and a burst of laughter from the hermits. Avarice’s large hands grabbed a chunk of items from the sky. The hand floated down and opened, revealing two diamonds amidst a pile of stone and other items. They crowed in victory, quickly pocketing their winnings. From the corner of his eye, Wels saw TFC and Scar pulling out some diamonds to replenish the pool alongside more random blocks.

Sitting down cross-legged on the table, Wels rested his head on one hand and watched the group play, a small smile playing across his lips. It was rare to see this kind of sight, everyone else was always so afraid of Avarice and Keloid, which was a pity. Months of being kidnapped to resummon Paladin or for some other obscure reason had removed the fear of their unnatural looks and actions, revealing a childlike wonder beneath. Hopefully this small bubble of fun they were all having would soften the hermits to the vexed shadows.

He didn’t know how long he sat on that table, watching his friends both player and shadow play. Keralis had glanced back and seen him at some point, but instead of telling anyone he had winked at him before turning back around to throw all three of his held diamonds.

Eventually, he was caught. Keralis had glanced back at him one too many times, alerting the rest to his presence. Predictably, there was some uproar.

“How long have you been sitting there!” “Do you know how many diamonds I lost?” “We thought you would never come out of the bathroom princess!”

Cheeky grin in place, he slid off the table. “How could I resist? You guys were having so much fun I couldn’t bear to stop it. Besides,” he added, walking through the circle and standing before Avarice, reaching out to pet their arm. “This is a much more fun way to get diamonds, don’t you think?”

The small faces on its arms lit up a brighter blue as the both of them whistled in agreement, Keloid taking out the diamonds they had gathered to show Wels in excitement. “L͌̿o̠͑̈́o̓̎k̰̏̐̇!͉̱̼̽ͨ̋ L͌̿o̠͑̈́o̓̎k̰̏̐̇!͉̱̼̽ͨ̋”Keloid chirped, somehow managing to bounce despite sitting down, holding out a whole fifteen diamonds to him. Wels laughed at their pure happiness. “Yes, good job you two.”

Preening in pride, Keloid returned the diamonds to its inventory. Avarice looked out the window, then beeped in alarm. “T͒͑iͪ̎m̂̓e̘!̥̪͈̬͉͎̻ͫͤ ͭͤ͒N͊eͯ̿̄̋e̱͚̤̣ͩd̓ ̝̯̻̙̜g̏ͣ̈́ó̺̼̄ ͎̜ͨ̎ñó̓͐w̼͍̼̦̹͑͊̆!ͦͬ͆” they stressed, grabbing Wels roughly by the arm.

Wels grunted, tapping Avarice’s hand. They twittered a quick apology, relaxing its grip but keeping its hand wrapped firmly around his arm as it walked towards the window, Keloid fluttering above.

Wels turned slightly to face his concerned friends, raising an arm to wave. “Guess I’m off! Don’t worry too much about me guys, this is mostly normal! Bye!”

Turning back, he crawled through the window after Avarice, coming to stand on the roof of his mansion. Avarice had released his arm, so he tilted his head at them in question. Avarice answered with a coo, clearly expecting him to understand, then sighed when he didn’t move. Reaching over, it scooped up Wels in its arms, drawing a squeak from him. Looking up, he could see Keloid latch its six arms around Avarice, wings beating lightning-fast, and then they were in the air. Twisting around in Avarice’s hold, he looked down at the house below. Spotting some multicoloured figures below waving up at him, Wels pulled an arm free to wave back down at them.

Eventually, the house fell out of view. Twisting back, Wels settled himself within Avarice’s arms, resigned to waiting out the journey to the Hoard, wherever they had moved it to this time.

----------------------------------

The jolting landing woke Wels up. Blinking up at the stone ceiling above him, he lifted his head to look around. Keloid was nowhere to be seen, Avarice still moving down the cut-out corridors deeper into the Hoard. He leaned back to look at Avarice properly. “Hey, can you put me down? I can walk.”

Avarice glanced down at him, considering, then giving him a small rattling noise as they continued down the hall. Seeing as Avarice hadn't put him down, Wels guessed that was a no. Letting his head fall back into Avarice’s arms, he let out a small huff, watching the ceiling go past.

When the ceiling shifted from stone to smooth andesite, Wels noticed. A low whistle, and Avarice was setting him down on something soft. Blinking, he looked down, discovering a nest of pillows and blankets. He pressed down on the blanket. It was… really soft, actually. Softer than his own bed. It made him want to bury his face in it and hide for a few days. Noise from the corridor drew his attention away before he could actually go through with his thoughts.

Keloid fluttered in from the hall, holding an indignant Paladin, whose feet only just brushed the floor. His shadow was shaking their arms about, yet carefully making sure not to hit Keloid. A set of gauntlets floated behind them, still holding smelting tools. “Put me down Kel! I got commissions to finish!”

Keloid shook its head as Avarice moved to support it. “Y͚̱͉̑̀̄o͓̗üͦ ̳͉͍͍ͫ̐n̆̐o̒̃ͧt̑̉ͧͅ ͔̻͇̥r͇̜̮͂̆̄̏̇̉e̼s̓͐ͨtͤ͑!̣͔̓̾͌̓”

Paladin looked up at Avarice, “You too? Come on, I’m fine! We don’t even need rest.”

Avarice twittered at them. “Ń̎o̰̳̩͆ͥͥtͥ̆ͯ s̎ͭͦp͒̂ͪḛ̬̠͎̳̟̩n͋ͨd̝̭͔̞̞ͪͪ̈́ ̈́ͤ͂ͭ̓̽tiͬ̇m͚̭͚̥̖̹̀e̞͍̲͓̩͍͙̎̿̒̔ ̽̄̄͑͐̓̅w͛ͧ̓i̼̐̄t͍̲̤̳̿ͮͣͅh̞̩̘̥͔ͥ̾ ̳̗̃u̐ͪs͓̗ͩ͑ͯ͐?̖̞̖̤̻̼́̒̈́̀̎”

Paladin looked down guiltily. Walking them forwards, Avarice gently pushed them onto the nest, shooting Wels a knowing look. Catching onto what was going on, Wels twisted his waist, leaning over to wrap his arms around Paladin, startling his shadow. They tilted their head slightly in confusion. “Wels? What are you doing here?”

The position he was in was uncomfortable. Straining backwards, Wels pulled Paladin down next to him on the nest. The shadow flailed, disoriented. “Wha- you too Wels? Come on!” they whined. Wels didn’t respond, instead burying his face into Paladin’s side. He felt the shadow tense up, then sigh, tension bleeding out of their frame. A shifting cloth came up to cradle him in a vaguely familiar manner.

A large arm draped over them, effectively trapping them both in place. Wels could feel a presence slip in behind him, draping over his side and resting its head on his shoulder. “S͒̚ī͑̈́n͌g͛?̱̌ͅ” Keloid chirped. Avarice rumbled its agreement, the vibrations rattling down its arm. He could practically feel Paladin roll their eyes, yet when they shifted to speak to him he could hear the affection in their voice. “Got any songs to humour them? I don’t really have any right now.”

Wels thought for a moment, flipping through his mental song list before coming on the perfect song. “I sing and you do the backup?” he asked, poking Paladin in the side.

“Oh you should know dear summoner,” Paladin ribbed back. Pulling back slightly with a smile, Wels cleared his throat, letting the first words out, Paladin humming along, giving his voice an echoing quality.

“Time is an illusion that helps things make sense,

so we’re always living in the present tense.

It seems unforgiving when a good thing ends.

But you and I will always be back then.

You and I will always be back then.”

He heard Avarice and Keloid shift over them, adding soft plinking noises to their song.

“Singing will happen, happening, happened.

Will happen, happening, happened.

And we will happen again and again.

'Cause you and I will always be back then.

You and I will always be back then”

-------------------------

“So, why are they dragging you here?” Wels asked, holding back a yawn. They had been singing for a few hours now, and he was getting tired. Avarice and Keloid had gone to grab some food for him, leaving him to hold down the fort. Paladin grunted, looking away. “I haven’t been hanging out with them since the incident. Just trying to catch up on my commissions, nothing special.”

Wels propped himself up onto his elbows, staring into Paladin’s face, reading the lines of pain they didn’t quite manage to hide. He sighed, slipping back into his space besides Paladin, wrapping an arm around their chest. “You don’t have to hide from us, you know. Avarice and Keloid already noticed, and you hiding it from them is only going to make them more worried.”

Paladin twisted to look at him, surprised, “How did yo-”

He pointed at his face. “I know my face when I see it. You’re like an open book to me.”

Paladin huffed and turned around fully, a blue wing curling up to box him in. “Then you are just as open to me. You’re tired. Sleep.”

Unable to hold back his yawn, Wels snuggled into Paladin’s side. “Maybe… I will…” he muttered, drifting off.

-------------

Amazingly, he didn’t wake up to a nightmare, instead finding his shadow with two attentive shadow vex at their feet, pointing out the shininess factor of each gem. He smiled. This was nice. He could get used to this.

He didn’t leave the Hoard that day, instead staying in and learning more about how the shadow vex and his shadow interacted.

--------------

The next night, he did wake from a nightmare.

He’d clung to Paladin, sobbing, face hidden against their chestplate, unwilling to look up and see that accursed blue. The three shadows had held him, he had felt their hands and arms encircle him comfortably. Someone was rocking him, petting his head, he could hear Paladin humming a song, the song they had sung a day prior.

Eventually, he tired himself out, falling back into sleep.

No one asked him about his nightmares the next day, giving him understanding glances, and for that he was grateful.

-------------

“So, when can I leave?”

“Ǹ̳̂͒oͤ͊t͋́̂ ̑ͤͮ̚n̜̲̼̊o̲̝̞̣wͦ͒͑̑!ͤ̂͐”

“ͨ͗͑͑̔͐͆T͆r̯ͭ̇͊̎ͯ̊a̬̺͗͑̌̈̅p̀͒̓s̫̖̘̱͚͒̍ ̗͖̥̺͉e͋ͯ́v̟̰͖̯͔̳ͣͅe͒ͣ͌r̃̒̽y̟̻̟w̚hͯ́͊̓eͩͣ̊ṟ͎ͫ͆͆̊̎̚e̽̓̓ͮ!̼͍̹͛”

“Oh, I think that’s just Demise. I don’t think anyone’s died yet though, are you talking about what’s going to happen. Ah, alright. Hopefully Grian got my payme-”

“Sͩͦ̊t̠̩̘͕͋̇̏̃o͑͊l̾ͦͬe̠̮̤͕͓͕ ̞͍̳̠̆̾ͩ͌s͎̘͚̿̍̈̂h̠̗ͪi̱͚̖̲n̊ͦͭiͧͫͣe͌ͭ̎s͖̯̙͍̻̝̾̚!̮͆ͫ͊͛ͦ͐̑”

“... of course you did. Guess I gotta go tell Gria-”

“N̺͍̮͑o̬̬̩̹̼̰ ̠̻̠͚̪̰̍̇̈̈̔̽l͙͖ͧ̇̄̏̐e̱̺͇̦̳̖a̠̮ͣ̂̽͆v̪̩͔̤͈̺̺̌ͣͫ̍e̠̺̝̞̮͋̿!͓̗̝̜ͧ̂”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊ͮe̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“Woah! Put me down please.”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊e̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“̹̩͈̗̿̾̏̃D́͑͐a̝n̓̎g̽̃̋̊e̯ͩr̝̹͔̗ͮͫoͥ̈̋̌ũ̲s͕̜͉͈͚͔͍͆̓̃͂̚!̳͇̗̮̆̐̃ͯ”

“Ok, I get it, you won’t let me out until Demise ends, won’t you? Guess I have to tell Grian that I can’t play Demise then.”

Opened Another of Grian’s messes

[Wels] hey Grian you awake?

[Grian] when am I not?

[Grian] hey wels long time no see where you been

[Jevin] the sleeping beuaty has awokened!

[Wels] that is not how you spell awoken Jevin

[Wels] and speaking of where I’ve been, I need to talk to you

[Grian] ominous, Im listening

[Wels] so the vexdows? I’m going to call them that now it’s easier

[Jevin] i spelleth things how i wanteth

[Wels] the vexdows won’t let me leave the Hoard cause they heard that traps and death are included

[Grian] wait they are protecting you? Weird

[Wels] Jevin please that hurts my eyes why would you curse this world with that

[Grian] WAIT THATS UNFAIR NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THE HOARD EVEN IS

[Wels] that’s why I’m talking to you

[Jevin] it speakerth from mine mind, all of youse shall be cursed with it owo

[Wels] could you take me off the game? I don’t think I can convince them to let me leave until the game ends

[Grian] on it

[Wels] oh also they stole your diamonds

[Jevin] pwease tawk to me I'm wonyewy

[Wels] Jevin did you sleep? you’re not you when you’re sleepy

[Grian] they stole them? Agh

[Wels] I’ll pay the winner when the game ends, no need to refund me

[Jevin] no

[Wels] go to sleep Jevin

[Jevin] no

[Wels] how dare you say no to me

[Grian] whomst'd've

[Jevin] itz on scrub

[Biffa] @Xisumavoid presidential alert: the girls are fighting

[Wels] bless you Biffa

[Xisuma] what’s going on here

[Jevin] WHO CALLED MUM

[Grian] DID YOU CALL ECKS-EYE-EASE-ONE-A-VE-OID MUM

[Biffa] I did this to call out X for not sleeping :3

[Xisuma] firstly, go to sleep, the both of you

[Xisuma] secondly, I might as well be your mother with how everyone acts

[Grain] !!!

[Jevin] but XXXXXXXXX

[Xisuma] and thirdly, how dare you Biffa

[Biffa] you gotta sleep too mum

[Xisuma] I am headed to your location. Do not move

[Biffa] what are you going to do, kill me

[Jevin] oh boy the other girls are fighting now

[Xisuma] no, worse

[Xisuma] I’m going to confiscate your tea

[Biffa] :0

[Biffa] >:0

[Biffa] >:V

[Wels] aaaaand I’m leaving

[Keralis] bye Wels, stay safe <3

[Grian] MUM KERALIS ISNT ASLEEP EITHER

Wels tucked his communicator away, giggling at his friends’ antics. Two curious chirps caught his attention, and he turned back to face the vexdows. A lightbulb went off in his head. “Could you two show me the Hoard?”

#shadow people au #I am not tagging cause I am lazy to tag everyone #cute little family bonding stuff #cause this is before they got close enough to be a big family #so they are not quite fully there yet #aight trigger tags time #nightmare #Demise #cause I know some people aren't comfortable with it #my writing

[vino-and-doggos]

Time Enough at Last, chapter 3

Read full text on AO3 and FFN

Chapter Length: 4081 words (story total 8712)

Rated: T

Status: Complete (3/3)

Summary: Submitted for your approval: one wants money, women, status, fame, and everything else in the world. The other just wants more time alive, to see his daughter grow, to love his wife for a little longer. Two seemingly different personalities must learn to coexist so that they both can have it all.

The final chapter is here! I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll keep saying it: @flourchildwrites is the best beta in existence. Without further ado... the final chapter (but not necessarily the end) of Time Enough at Last.

For the second time in his life, Hughes was a prisoner inside his own body, confined by walls of tissue and bones like iron bars. He had felt this way after returning from Ishval. Witnessing everything happening around him, yet numb to any sensations.

Food had tasted like nothing, and the texture had always felt wrong. The smells of a friendly neighborhood cookout would leave him feeling queasy. When hearing a child scream in laughter, Maes’s spine would stiffen. He had seen a man with skin darker than his own, and his guard had risen involuntarily, pulse quickening and adrenaline pumping.

It was eerily similar being attached to Greed. Or was Greed attached to him? It was all very confusing, and Maes’s metaphorical head spun every time he tried to think about it.

And what a conundrum that was, seeing as spinning was off the table unless Greed chose to do so.

Regardless, the level of consciousness was similar. Hughes was awake and aware but unable to interact with the world around him. He felt neither the slick leather pants nor the sinfully tight black tank top that Greed chose as clothing. He couldn’t smell the dankness of the underground tunnels.

Nevertheless, he could hear everything that Greed could hear, but it was tinny, almost as if Maes was listening to a radio broadcast. He could see whatever it was that Greed chose to look at, but sometimes the edges weren’t as sharp and crisp as they should have been. It reminded Maes of when he had first recognized that he needed glasses, but the fuzziness around the peripherals of Maes’ vision didn’t seem to affect the homunculus whatsoever. No doubt, Maes was a backseat driver in this equation, craning his neck to see what was crisp and clear to his body’s avaricious master.

Interestingly, Hughes’s body didn’t appear to need glasses at all, actually. And the occasional twinge that had existed in the lieutenant colonel’s lower back after a minor injury in Ishval didn’t seem to exist anymore either, or at least not that the homunculus had let on. Greed had yet to eat or drink – it didn’t seem like homunculi needed to – but Hughes was sure that it would have no taste, no texture. Not to mention Maes felt like he had energy for days, which was a good thing, because the unlikely pair hadn’t slept a wink.

There were plenty of things that Maes couldn’t do since he was no longer in direct control of his own body. The one thing Hughes could do, however, was something that he had always excelled at. He could talk. And it appeared that Greed had to listen to, or at least hear, every single thing that the family man said. So Hughes decided to capitalize on it.

For a few days, Greed ignored him. Maes asked questions.

“So, where are we going?”

“Oh, Avaricious One, what exactly did Father mean when he mentioned sacrifices?”

“Hey, buddy, are we gonna go get lunch? I’m starving.”

“What are your opinions on the current state of Amestris?”

“Have you ever gotten a little freaky with Lust?”

He tried everything he could to get a rise. Greed remained silent.

Maes offered commentary and his opinions on every single thing that Greed did.

“Really, we’re going to go this way to visit Father today? Going to the right is significantly faster.”

“I don’t know, man; do you really think leather looks okay on this body? I’ve let myself go a bit after Elicia was born.”

“Oh for the love of… Please make sure that one section of hair in the front is artfully styled. It looks ridiculous right now!”

“You should really carry a satchel or something. I think it would really pull your whole ensemble together.”

There was no response.

Maes sang, hummed, and whistled the same song on repeat for an entire day. And still no acknowledgment.

But, in between all of his questioning and commenting and musical numbers, Hughes was listening and learning. It didn’t seem that Maes and Greed shared knowledge; the human was still blissfully unaware of a few things that were common knowledge - and therefore went without saying - amongst Father’s inner circle. However, he was able to gather a few morsels of understanding along the way.

If Maes was honest, Greed didn’t seem nearly as bad as his “siblings” or the one who gave the avarice the lieutenant colonel’s body. Greed just went along with the others, did what he was told, answered questions that he was asked. Nowhere along the lines of all the planning the duo attended did Hughes ever get a straight-up bad vibe from his pilot. And there was a lot of planning going on.

There was something coming, a rather big something, called The Promised Day. However, a veil of mystery clouded the big picture. Maes hadn’t been able to gather much information apart from the name and approximate date of the big to-do, but his mind was acutely aware that something sinister lurked beneath the whole of Amestris. On The Promised Day, the nationwide transmutation circle would be activated; Maes was almost sure of it. Still, he was confused about what exactly the sacrifices were needed for.

The lieutenant colonel also pieced together why they needed his body, specifically. At first, he thought he was convenient, a host to replace the insolent avarice before him. He quickly realized, though, that wasn’t the case at all. Maes was needed because he was a military officer.

He was of a decent rank, sure, but he was relatively unknown outside of his immediate circle of friends and coworkers. Hughes tended to keep his head down, playing only the cards required and keeping the rest of his hand close to his chest. Maes had the cunning of a magician and the presence of a pickpocket. He had manipulated the system much in the same way that Roy did. Where Roy put on a playboy persona, Maes doubled down in the opposite direction, painting himself as a family man who did nothing but brag about his darling Elicia and his beautiful wife.

That fact alone would make it significantly easier for Greed to act as Hughes. If anyone started down a line of questioning that the homunculus didn’t know or didn’t want to answer, all he had to do was pull out the flip-book of pictures that Maes kept on his person. It usually made his audience eager to get away as quickly as possible.

It was a pretty good plan, the lieutenant colonel had to admit. However, he wasn’t sure that they had taken Maes keeping his consciousness into account. The most interesting thing about that was Greed hadn’t said a damn thing to anyone about Hughes being cognizant.

Maes knew that Greed could hear him. While Hughes might not be able to make physical contact with the outside world, he could sense Greed’s feelings. And Greed was heavily annoyed that his uninvited houseguest wouldn’t shut up. Naturally, Hughes kept picking.

One afternoon, about a week after the transformation, Greed snapped.

“CUT IT OUT!” he roared, and Maes took a moment to be thankful that they weren’t with the others. This was a secret both parties seemed keen on keeping.

“Oh, sorry, am I bothering you?” Hughes questioned innocently. “This is all so new; I wasn’t sure if you could even hear me.”

“Truth Almighty, you have to be the most persistent asshole in all of Amestris,” Greed grumbled.

“And now you’re stuck with me,” Maes said smugly. “Can we talk a bit? Maybe reach some sort of accord?”

Greed grumbled, and Hughes felt the homunculus’ reluctance crumble into begrudging acceptance.

“Fine,” Greed conceded. “But let’s get one thing straight, family man. I lead this operation, understand?”

Testing the limits of their supposed bond, Hughes allowed a feeling of compliance to fill him. Greed must have understood because he chuckled.

“Good,” the homunculus said.

“Out of curiosity,” Maes started, “if you’re so hell-bent on being in charge, why do you follow Father?”

Greed’s entire being seemed to stutter. Despite being so rattled, the homunculus’ voice was steady and confident.

“I don’t want to be sucked into the philosopher’s stone with the rest of you short-sighted mortals in this sad, circular country.”

Hughes nodded. “Hmm. And what makes you think that Father’s word will hold true? That he’ll save you? I gotta say, this guy just doesn’t seem all that trustworthy. And we have to take his word that you’re standing in just the right spot to not be swallowed up? Seems questionable to me.”

“Well, what do you suppose we do instead?” Greed growled, and Maes could feel a small spike of panic course through the body that was technically his. However, he couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment at the homunculus’ use of the word “we.”

“Let’s get out of here. I have some friends who are trying to stop all this madness. If we tell them everything that we know, they might be able to put a stop to it sooner.” Longingly, Maes thought of Gracia and Elicia. Was there any chance at convincing Greed to stay permanently with his family?

“Tell you what,” Greed said, startling Hughes out of his thoughts. “If you really think these mere mortals will be able to stop Father, I’ll give it a shot. This whole Father-knows-best routine isn’t exactly my style, and there’s no status if civilization is destroyed.”

Hughes could still feel a shred of reluctance hiding behind the words but decided to capitalize on the positive.

“Greed?” he questioned.

“Huh?”

“I still haven’t forgotten my promise to you. Family is the most important thing. With them, you really do feel like you have everything, the world at your fingertips, a richness you never knew before. Give me a chance to show you.”

Greed just chuckled. Hughes was still filled with yearning, wistful for his wife, for his daughter, for Roy. A different want began to edge in; a wish to return to his old life. He wasn’t sure if this feeling was his or the homunculus’.

“So, can you get us out of here?” Maes added slowly and cautiously. He chose his words wisely, careful not to disturb the uneasy truce.

“Oh absolutely,” Greed responded, a devious grin splitting the face of Maes Hughes.

“Bido!” the young blonde girl called out. “It’s you!”

The lizard chimera spun around, recognizing the voice instantly, tail following him. The short wiry blonde’s face cracked a small smile at seeing the lizard - her friend, her family - advance towards her, his gait smooth but still lopsided due to the unnaturalness of a tail on a bipedal creature. “Martel! I can’t believe you’re here!”

How serendipitous it was for the two of them to meet in the sewers under the hustle and bustle of Central City. For Bido, it was too similar to how they departed, and a chill ran down his spine as he eyed the girl’s tattooed neck and shoulder.

“How did you get away? I thought you would still be with the armored brat and the dog of the military he calls a brother!”

“As soon as he carried me to the surface, I made a break for it,” Martel answered. “I couldn’t stay with them! They weren’t even planning to come this way for a few more months! How did you know to come to Central?”

“I didn’t,” Bido answered honestly. “It was pure guesswork. The head of the military is housed in Central, and we were attacked by soldiers. So, I decided to start there, find some clues, and work my way out. You ask that like you did know, though…” he said, an air of suspicion in his voice.

“Stop that,” Martel warned. “I was there, still in the armor, when Bradley said that Greed had to stay alive and make it back to Central. I came here as quickly as I could.”

Bido spoke frantically, “Did he say anything else? Like where specifically they were going?”

“I couldn’t get that lucky,” said the snake chimera.

Bido frowned. “So where do you think we should start? I can’t exactly travel above ground without attracting unwanted attention. But we need to find Greed.”

“Quiet!” hissed Martel suddenly. “Do you hear that?”

The low light of the sewer shrouded the mismatched pair, and they strained their ears and silenced their tongues to better hear a distant disturbance. Echoing footsteps, louder with each stride, were punctuating the quiet babble of water. Looking up, Martel noticed that the pipes along the ceiling were getting more congested. Unfortunately, that meant that it was more difficult for her to hide away in them, though she decided to try if push came to shove; after all, no one ever looks up.

Before another thought of escape could cross her mind, a voice rang out through the tunnel.

“Yes, I know where we’re going, Truth Almighty. Have I told you how annoying you are yet today?”

Something sounded familiar, but Martel wasn’t quite able to place what it was. Bido, however, seemed to notice it instantly. The lizard breathed, “Greed?”

In that moment, a body came in to view, one that walked with the cocky confidence that the avarice she once knew walked with. But this body was unfamiliar. The hair color was the same, he had the ouroboros tattoo in the same spot on his hand, but it was still not the same body.

“Greed!” Bido cried, running towards the new man. Martel scoffed but followed quickly anyway. The two stopped short of plowing into the new Greed.

“Huh? Do I know you?”

Martel’s mouth dropped open. How could Greed forget her? They were a team. Not just her and Greed; all of the chimeras. The ragtag group of misfits bonded over not being able to go back to their families, over being the few that managed to survive. The homunculus had called the chimeras possessions, but Martel always knew better. They were a family. How could he forget his own family?

“Greed, it’s Bido! Bido and Martel! Don’t you remember us?” the lizard chimera pleaded, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Oh, you must have known a different Greed. I’m the newest incarnation,” he purred. The light of Greed’s lantern hit the unfamiliar angles of his newest mask, but there was a familiar glint in his eyes which befit his devil-may-care smirk. “I want fame, money -”

“Status, women, yeah, yeah, we know.” Martel rolled her eyes. “What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Greed asked.

“The plan!” Bido emphasized.

“The plan to get everything? The plan do have it all?” Martel prompted.

“Right, right,” the homunculus said casually. “The plan! The plan is to stop this allegedly evil thing from happening. I’m going to lead everyone to safety. Then, they’ll all be my minions.”

There was a pause. “What do you mean ‘no minions’? You said there would be minions!”

Another pause. “No, I’m pretty sure you promised me people to rule over.”

Martel and Bido shared a look. What the hell was happening?

“Whatever. I’m allowing you to bring in your people, family man. The least you can do is let me rebuild my collection.” Greed’s eyes shifted to the two in front of him. “Say, you wouldn’t want to be my new underlings, would you?”

The two chimeras glanced swiftly at each other before both smiled broadly. World domination was a new one, a much larger goal than the old Greed had ever attempted. Still, the chimeras were content to follow their leader through hell and high sewer water.

“Count us in,” Martel said, with a thumbs up, Bido nodding enthusiastically beside her.

“I just don’t understand it, Roy,” Gracia muttered as she placed a teacup on the table in front of him. The delicate porcelain had rattled precariously in Gracia’s shaking hands; now placed on the table, the cup was still and silent. “What enemies did he make that would injure him and then kidnap him?”

For about the seventh time since Roy arrived five minutes ago, Gracia popped her head into the den to ensure Elicia was still there, playing quietly as she had been every time before. Roy always suspected the youngster was smart; it was almost as if she knew that any noise louder than what she was currently making would put her mother over the edge.

“I wish I knew,” Mustang reported, watching his best friend’s wife putter around the kitchen, gathering cookies and other snacks on a plate and depositing them in front of Roy. She began to walk towards the den when Roy called out to her. “Gracia, please come and sit down.” Mustang watched the conflict in the woman’s eyes as she glanced towards the other room. A meaningful look and a small tilt of his head in the direction of the open chair beside his own caused Gracia to relent and drop down into the seat.

Sitting down didn’t quell her nervous energy, though, and Roy was able to see her leg bouncing slightly. He understood. He was also filled with the same nervous energy; it had been almost two and a half weeks since his best friend, since Gracia’s husband, had mysteriously vanished.

“There was a good amount of blood, but not so much that he was mortally wounded. The really strange part was that there was no blood trail leading from the phone booth in any direction. No matter which way we fanned out to search, there wasn’t a drop - not a single drop.”

Gracia sighed, the exhalation coming out shaky. “Do you think someone kidnapped him?” A hopeful note dared to invade her tone.

“The thought crossed my mind,” Roy replied, before continuing gravely. “Look, Gracia, I’m not going to sugar coat this. I’ve known you for too many years to do you a disservice like that. But why? Why take him? If he knew too much, why wouldn’t they just kill him?”

Gracia flinched at his words, and Roy instantly felt worse than he already did. “I think they needed him for something, and he wasn’t going to go without a fight,” he attempted to reassure her. He wasn’t sure that the sympathetic epithet reached her.

“That still leaves who and why, though,” the housewife said frustratedly. “What else have you been able to find out?” There was a hesitation in her question, almost as if she didn’t want to know, but felt as though she needed to ask.

“A map was reported missing from the archive room; Lieutenant Focker, who was the last one to see him, said he was headed there. From the archive room to the phone booth we were able to follow a small blood trail, so he must have already been injured. But that injury definitely wasn’t causing the amount of blood we found in the phone booth.” Roy paused, gathering his thoughts.

Gracia nodded, tentatively encouraging him to continue. A handkerchief was pressed to her mouth, muffling the quiet, shaky whimpers that began throughout Roy’s description of her husband’s injuries. She was told there was blood. She was not told that there was a lot of blood. Fears of her husband not coming back to her magnified. She fought the urge to run into the den to check on Elicia just one more time. But her daughter couldn’t see her with tears running down her face. Gracia knew she had to be strong.

Mustang raised an eyebrow, making sure she was okay to hear more. Her expectant look told him to proceed. “We know it was actually him and not a prank due to the picture at the scene. I wasn’t able to hear anything but muffled voices on the other end of the phone line,” Roy lamented. “Maybe if I had heard something more…”

“Roy, this is not your fault,” Gracia chided. “You’ve already done so much to help. I don’t blame you.” Gracia couldn’t even fault Maes for calling Roy and not her. What was she supposed to do? Drag their three-year-old to some random phone booth in the dark? At least Roy was able to get the bureaucratic wheels turning, and quickly at that.

“Tell me; what else do you know?” She was surer in her question this time.

“Major Armstrong found a piece of paper in the bushes along the way to the phone booth during the preliminary investigation, before I arrived. He recognized it as Maes’s handwriting.”

Gracia leaned forward, eyes searching Roy’s face frantically for any clue. “What did it say?” she prompted.

“Cameron, Liore, Ishval, Fotset, Fisk, and South City.”

“Town names?” Gracia questioned, confused.

“I don’t know either,” Roy surrendered. “It spells ‘CLIFFS’ in the code that he, Riza, and I share. But there really aren’t any cliffs here in Amestris. Creta is the closest place to us that has actual cliffs. I would assume if he were trying to talk about something in the North, he would have said mountains instead of cliffs. I just don’t know, Gracia.” He set his teacup on the table with a little more intensity than intended, rattling the dishes on the table. Apologetically, he looked at his best friend’s wife.

Gently, she took his hand. “I understand Roy. We both want him back. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

A knock at the door interrupted the tender moment. A questioning glance between the two quickly told the other that no one was expected. Roy’s gloves were already on, but as Gracia stood to answer the door, he tugged at them, ensuring they fit snugly and were ready to attack if need be.

Gracia moved hurriedly toward the door, unable to heed the sound of the deadbolt on the other side as it was quickly unlocked. She turned the handle and just as the mechanism unlatched, the door was flung open by the uninvited guest. Roy’s hand rose instantly, ready to snap, but he faltered.

In the doorway stood Maes Hughes, flanked by a blonde and a bald man. Sans glasses, in clothes that Maes would never willingly choose to put on his body, but Maes Hughes nonetheless. A smile unlike any before seen on the face of Maes Hughes leered at them, his arms crossed cockily across his chest. This obviously wasn’t Maes Hughes; the imposing posture alone told both Roy and Gracia that this was not their missing man. And yet, somehow it was.

Gracia pressed her palm against her lips as as fresh tears welled in her eyes. Roy’s mouth still hung open in shock. Suddenly, a voice that wasn’t Maes’s, yet still emanated from his mouth, spoke.

“Hey, guys. What’s up? Did you miss us?”

“Us?” Roy echoed, quickly eyeing up the two that Maes-but-not-Maes brought home with him. “Maes, what is going on?”

Gracia, snapping out of her shocked fugue. “Yes Maes, what is going on? Where have you been?”

Before Gracia had finished her sentence, rapid footfalls sounded against the hardwood floor of the hallway.

“Daddy!” Elicia cried excitedly, as she leapt towards the man in the doorway. Reflex kicked in, and the man that looked like Maes Hughes caught the toddler.

He chuckled, holding her in front of him.

“Not quite, kiddo.”

Seven consciousnesses in six bodies stood in awkward silence, scattered around the apartment’s small foyer. Martel and Bido had questions. Gracia and Roy were hopelessly confused, rendered silent by shock. Only little Elicia seized the moment for what it was worth: an answered prayer. Her beloved father had returned home.

The green-eyed girl threw her arms around Greed’s neck, and at Maes’s fervent behest, the homunculus reluctantly returned the affection. It was torture enough that Maes didn’t get to hug his daughter himself; she shouldn’t be hurt by not receiving a hug from the one she recognized as her father in return.

There would be time, Greed rationalized, to make them all understand the intricacies of this peculiar melding of minds and body. Time to plot and wrestle the nation from the grasp of Father and his stupidly loyal siblings. There might even be a moment or two to explore this notion of family that Hughes kept blathering on about. At last, Greed would have the opportunity to claw his way to the top of the food chain using his brand new Maes Hughes suit. He only hoped that he’d enjoy the destination as much as the ride.

#time enough at last #time enough at last chapter 3 #time enough at last final chapter #vino writes fanfiction #fullmetal alchemist fanfiction #fma fanfiction #greed!hughes AU

[aion-rsa]

Upcoming Movies in February 2021: Streaming, VOD, and Theaters

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2021 is now in full swing, and film distributors are beginning to feel out what the new normal actually is. Given the latest news about COVID variants, movie theaters remain a tenuous bet—although some films are still releasing there—while streaming at home becomes evermore enticing with one of Warner Bros.’ Oscar contenders set to premiere simultaneously in theaters and on HBO Max. This month also marks the theatrical and/or streaming release of some of last year’s best films.

So for film lovers, the choice of what to watch (and how to view it) remains more varied than ever. Here’s a guide to what’s coming up in February:

A Glitch in the Matrix

February 5

After chronicling the oddest of oddball theories regarding Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining in the documentary Room 237, filmmaker Rodney Ascher is back to take on sci-fi classic The Matrix. In truth, the idea of there being a “glitch in the Matrix” predates the Wachowskis’ 1999 movie, but the duo mainstreamed the idea that we all live in a simulation. So with his new film, Ascher explores that philosophical idea (and fringe conspiracy theory) that nothing is real, and therefore everything is permitted.

With the rise of conspiracy theories and magical thinking in recent years, this could be timely stuff—or unnecessary based on some of the mixed reaction this film has thus far received out of Sundance.

Malcolm & Marie

February 5

This Netflix release has awards buzz around it as well as eye-popping marquee value with its depiction of a love story between John David Washington (BlacKkKlansman, Tenet) and Zendaya (Euphoria, Spider-Man). The film is from the mind of Euphoria creator Sam Levinson and is his third feature, following Assassination Nation.

Shot in black and white, Malcolm & Marie is a visibly personal project, with its depiction of a romance on the edge of evolution or despair. Washington’s Malcolm is a movie director in the story, and he’s on the verge of superstardom after the premiere of his first feature. Clearly his life is about to change, but his girlfriend Marie suspects those changes don’t include her. After his big night, all the things left unspoken are about to be uttered.

Falling

February 5 (U.S. Release, Playing Now in the UK)

Viggo Mortensen makes his directorial debut in what is reported to be a quiet and revelatory affair. Like several other filmmakers this year, Mortensen is tackling the subject of parents and adult children being placed under the strain of dementia. Yet there’s long been a tension between Willis (Lance Henriksen) and his son John (Mortensen) in this movie, even before early stages of dementia.

Uncomfortable with the fact John is gay and living openly with his partner and a young daughter, Willis is reluctant to visit his son’s family. But as the aging process sets in, both generations are going to have to make peace with a lot of things.

Judas and the Black Messiah

February 12 (U.S. Only, UK TBC)

As the next Warner Bros. film set to premiere on HBO Max the same day it opens in theaters, a lot of attention is gathered around Judas and the Black Messiah, not least of all because it is very good. As a film with Oscar aspirations—Daniel Kaluuya has already been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Golden Globes and SAG Awards—Judas gives a hard-edged study of the life and times of Fred Hampton, the Black Panther Party chairman who was executed by police in 1969.

Told from the perspective of William O’Neal (a jittery LaKeith Stanfield), the FBI informant who spied on Hampton and the Panthers for law enforcement, it’s a unique approach to a biopic that finally shines mainstream Hollywood light on the struggles of the Panthers and the demand for Black Power. It’s brutal and, ultimately, haunting.

Minari

February 12 (March 19 in the UK)

Another major awards contender, and easily one of the best films of the last year, is Lee Isaac Chang’s intimate and visibly personal passion project, Minari. Loosely inspired by Chang’s own childhood, the film chronicles a family of Korean-Americans who immigrated to the U.S. in the 1970s, and after a decade of scraping by in the dead end of industrial farming, they’re making a go of it with their own small farm in rural 1980s Arkansas.

Presented as a multigenerational tapestry, the film is an achingly beautiful piece told from the vantage of a young boy, his put-upon and distancing parents (Steven Yeun and Yeri Han), and his grandmother (Youn Yuh-jung), who’s visit from Seoul is intended to save the family. It really is something special and all-American, despite its occasional categorization as a “foreign language film” by awards bodies. See it in theaters on Feb. 12 or wait for its VOD release on Feb. 26.

To All the Boys I Love: Always and Forever

February 12

If you’re looking for something a little more romantic this Valentine’s Day season, Netflix is completing its To All the Boys I Love trilogy—or at least finishing its film adaptations of the so-far published Jenny Han YA novels—with Too All the Boys I Love: Always and Forever. In the movie, Lana Condor returns as Lara Jean, the once gawkish high school girl with a series of crushes who is now coming into her own as she spends her spring break on a whirlwind vacation that sends her to South Korea, New York City, and around the world. (So clearly this is set before 2020.) It’s a romance for all ages, and one that could be sweet in our current age.

French Exit

February 12 (March 26 in the UK)

Michelle Pfeiffer is one of those rare performers who can make even the most venomous line readings sing with playful amusement—or turn the screws. She indulges both skills in French Exit, a dry comedy with exceeding detachment and apparently perfect casting. In the Azazel Jacobs film, Pfeiffer plays Frances Price, a Manhattan socialite of a certain age who’s lived long enough to see the invitations to high society dry up. Worse, she’s also run out of the inheritance she’d been living off for decades.

So Frances moves in with her peculiar son Malcolm (Lucas Hedges) in a tiny Parisian apartment. Slow boiling mayhem ensues. Well-regarded for Pfeiffer’s performance on the festival circuit, this is one to keep an eye on.

Land

February 12 (April 9 in the UK)

Robin Wright has had a remarkable career in film and television, time and again showing us new dimensions onscreen. But with Land, she makes her directorial feature debut behind the camera after helming several episodes of House of Cards. In the film, Wright plays Edee, a bereaved woman who attempts to start over in the wilderness of Wyoming. Even with its wide open landscapes, it’s admittedly a narrowly framed tale. Yet there be gold up in them hills.

I Care a Lot

February 19

One of our personal favorites out of the Toronto International Film Festival last year, Netflix’s I Care a Lot is a clever, knotty, and incredibly sardonic dark comedy. Framed around the bottomless ambition and avarice of Marla Grayson (Rosamund Pike), it’s the story of a woman who makes her wealth by convincing the government to lock up senior citizens with large bank accounts, leaving her in charge of their finances.

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It’s a hell of a con until one nice little old lady (Dianne Wiest) whom Marla preys upon turns out to have connections to a crime boss (Peter Dinklage). This is wicked entertainment, with Pike at her most devilish since Gone Girl, and Dinklage also playing sharply against type. They and the rest of the ensemble, which includes Eiza González, are brutally funny in this grim satire of modern American capitalism run rotten. The J Blakeson who made The Disappearance of Alice Creed is back.

The Mauritanian

February 19 (February 26 in the UK)

Kevin Macdonald continues his career of hard hitting political dramas based on true events with The Mauritanian, a new awards contender which documents the real legal case of Mohamedou Ould Salahi, a Mauritanian detained without a charge by the U.S. government in 2002. For 14 years, he remained in custody at Guantanamo Bay until he had his day in court.

Macdonald’s film documents that legal fight with a large ensemble which includes Jodie Foster and Shailene Woodley as the lawyers representing Salahi, and Benedict Cumberbatch as an American officer who suffers a crisis of conscience. Most of all though, the film has gotten attention for Tahar Rahim as Salahi in a performance that has already garnered him a Golden Globe nomination.

Nomadland

February 19 (March 19 in the UK)

Chloé Zhao’s Best Picture contender is finally having a major streaming release, and on Hulu at that. Produced by Searchlight Pictures, Nomadland is a remarkable achievement that blends the acuity of narrative filmmaking with the sobering authenticity of documentaries. Focused on the real life culture of American Nomads in the modern American West, the film was made within the community while telling the story of how it came to be. Thus enters Frances McDormand as Fern, a woman who in 2010 has been left with nothing once the Great Recession literally erased her hometown from the map.

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By Mike Cecchini and 1 other

Now the middle-aged widow lives in a van on the open road, estranged from the idea of living at one address, and at peace with her new community of fellow travelers, who we see gather, commiserate, and grieve. It’s a powerful piece of filmmaking that may be a frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, which is fairly odd to consider when one realizes Zhao’s next movie is Marvel’s Eternals.

Tom & Jerry

February 26 (March 19 in the UK)

It looks like someone remembered they have beloved (and relatively ancient) intellectual property just sitting in mothballs, because Tom & Jerry is back. Yay? Looking like a leftover from the mid-00s craze of inserting CGI Smurfs into a sitcom-y New York, Tom & Jerry follows a familiar formula, but at least does so with sophisticated computer cel-shaded animation. That’s pretty nice.

The premise of this HBO Max-bound release is Jerry has set up shop as a mouse in a Manhattan hotel when junior management (Chloe Grace Moretz) introduces a cat to take him out. Unfortunately, for her, the cat is Tom. The two old foes immediately resort to their old ways, destroying the swanky establishment just before a high-profile wedding. Maybe she should have called the Ghostbusters?

Cherry

February 26 (March 12 in the UK)

Tom Holland and the Russo Brothers are a long way from the Marvel Cinematic Universe now. Indeed, after helming the highest grossing movie in history, Joe and Anthony Russo are turning their attention to the opioid epidemic in the U.S. by offering a stylish depiction of an Army vet who falls into addiction and a career of fourth wall-breaking bank robberies. Holland is clearly trying to step away from his goofy Spider-Man image, and the picture is of high pedigree for Apple TV+. The movie also stars Ciara Bravo and Jack Reynor.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday

February 26

This upcoming Hulu release is a passion project for Lee Daniels (Precious, The Butler), and one that aims to provide new dramatic light on the life of Billie Holiday. One of the great jazz and swing singers of the 1940s and ‘50s, Holiday had a singular voice and talent that was commodified by the music industry at the time due to her Blackness, and then hindered further the more political she became. While Holiday did have a drug problem, it’s interesting how the industry seemed to conspire to exacerbate it, as opposed to urging her to get clean.

A traditional biopic, The United States vs. Billie Holiday is now getting awards notice, with Andra Day’s starring turn as Billie already netting her a Golden Globe nomination. Not bad for an actor in her first starring role.

The Father

February 26 (March 12 in the UK)

It’s one of the most powerful movies of 2020… and one of the most depressing. In a role that’s already netted him Golden Globe and SAG nominations, Anthony Hopkins plays Anthony, an elderly man who’s been living alone for years since his wife passed. But with dementia setting in and his daughter (Olivia Colman) wishing to move to Paris, some tough decisions are going to be made about Anthony’s care.

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Yet what makes Florian Zeller’s The Father so effective is it’s told entirely from the perspective of Anthony’s deteriorating mind, and as it goes along, it becomes unclear how much of what you’re seeing can be believed as happening—or if it might’ve happened years ago. Hallways in his London flat change, doors are replaced, and the countenance of his daughter’s boyfriend shifts or vanishes depending on the day. It becomes debilitating, and ultimately heartbreaking, stuff.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

[ljones41]

"JERICHO" RETROSPECT: (1.06) "9:02"

"JERICHO" RETROSPECT: (1.06) "9:02" This sixth episode of "JERICHO" picks up at the same moment where the previous episode, (1.05) "Federal Response"left off. In other words, (1.06) "9:02" started with the citizens of Jericho, Kansas witness the presence of intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) soaring eastward over the town's skies, before the time period jumped another two weeks. 

Despite this exciting opening, I found myself wondering why the series' producers and screenwriter Nancy Won used"9:02" as the episode's title. I realized that it referred to the time in which the ICBMs sent an electromagnetic pulse that disrupted the electronic devices – cellphones, the Internet, television, radios, etc. - throughout the town. But what did it have to do with the episode's plot overall? Come to think of it . . . aside from all electronic devices in Jericho not working (save one), what was "9:02" about? There seemed to be at least three subplots at work in this episode. One of them involved the town's citizens failed attempts to assume some form of normalcy, following the ICBMs' disruption of Jericho's electronic devices. Kids have been stealing from Gracie's Market. And so has a new character named Mitchell Cafferty, who happened to be an old friend from Jake Green's delinquent past. Cafferty’s thefts have put him in the path of Dale Turner, the young shop assistant who managed to stumble across a supply of food for the store. Cafferty has also been stealing horses from various farms and ranches outside of town. When Jake and his mother Gail visit the Green family ranch to feed their horses, the latter is nearly trampled, when Mitch and a fellow thief are in the middle of a heist. This sends Jake on the warpath to take down his former friend. Robert Hawkins becomes aware of the enmity between Jake and Mitch and decides to investigate the pair’s past relationship. Meanwhile, Stanley Richmond is approached by I.R.S. auditor Mimi Clark for room and board in exchange for her labor on his ranch. During their conversation, Stanley discovers worms that have infested his corn crop. He tries to acquire pesticide from merchant Gracie Leigh. But she is only willing to give Stanley insecticide in exchange for profit from half of his corn crop. Even worse for Stanley, Mayor Green is willing to help him get the insecticide if he is willing to share his corn with the town’s citizens. In the final subplot, Allison Hawkins discovers that her father Robert possesses the only electronic device that is still working. She also discovers that he has a map of the U.S. locations that were bombed . . . and a gun. When Allison confronts her father, he decides to tell her that he is a government agent who knew about the September attacks. He also decides to teach her how to shoot. Father and daughter eventually begin to grow close. Many of these subplots proved to be interesting. And all of them proved to have an impact on the characters’ relationships, developments and the series’ main narrative. At first I had a hard time believing that the situation with Stanley Richmond’s corn crop had any future impact. But it did. One, Stanley’s desperation for the insecticide led Mimi to hire a few kids to steal it from Gracie’s Market. This act led to a visit to the Richmond farm by Deputy Bill Koehler, who reveals his aggressive nature for the first time in the series. This storyline also marked the first time both Stanley and Mimi display something other than hostility toward each other. And it exposed Gracie Leigh’s penchant for avarice, which proved to have an impact upon her character’s future development. Gracie and Dale’s encounters with Mitch Cafferty not only played a major role in their characters’ arc, it also revealed Jake’s past with the criminal. And this, in turned revealed how dangerous Jake could be – something that Robert Hawkins found very interesting. All of these subplots – Jake/Mitch Cafferty conflict, Dale/Mitch Cafferty conflict, Robert and Allison Hawkins’ relationship, and Stanley’s corn crop – end up having some kind of impact upon future story and character developments. The question remains . . . what did the episode’s title, which was an indication of when the ICBMs disrupted the town’s electronic devices, had to do with the plot? The lack of electronic devices seemed to have robbed Jericho’s citizens of a sense of normalcy, leading many of them to behave more irrationally or aggressive. But overall, the impact of no electricity seemed more like a metaphor of the disruption in the lives of the town’s citizens, instead of any real impact on the series’ overall narrative. And this is probably why I found the use of "9:02" as the episode’s title a bit weak. However, "9:02" did provide some interesting moments in the series. The episode featured two interesting conversations – one between Robert and Allison and another between Stanley and Mimi. Both conversations changed the relationships of all involved. "9:02" also featured an exciting action scene in which Jake and his brother Eric had a violent encounter with Mitch that I found rather suspenseful. Not only did I find myself wondering if Jake and Eric would be able to arrest Mitch. I wondered how Jake would react once they made the arrest. Needless to say, I was not disappointed by how that encounter turned out. But my favorite sequence proved to be the montage in which Jericho’s citizens arrived at the Richmond farm to help Stanley save his corn crop. After Jake greeted Robert in the middle of the cornfield, the following exchange occurred between the Hawkins father/daughter duo: Allison: [in reference to Jake] Is he a good man or a bad man? Robert: Baby, there is no such thing. In that one line, Robert Hawkins said more about humanity’s moral ambiguity than any other person – fictional or real – ever has. Do not get me wrong. I enjoyed "9:02" a good deal. It was interesting to see how the ICBMs’ impact upon the town’s electronic devices affected the citizens. And the episode featured some very good performances, especially from Skeet Ulrich, Pamela Reed, Lennie James, Erik Knudsen, Jazz Raycole, Brad Beyer and Alicia Coppola. But if I must be honest, I wish that someone on the production staff for "JERICHO" had given this episode a better title. This sounds like a shallow criticism. But if one looked at the episode, the ICBMs’ impact upon the town seemed to have a minor impact upon the episode’s narrative, aside from the Robert and Allison Hawkins’ familial relationship.

#Alicia Coppola #april d. parker #darby stanchfield #Gerald Mcraney #james remar #Ashley Scott #jazz raycole #jericho #jericho cbs #jon turteltaub #kenneth mitchell #lennie james #pamela reed #post-apocalypse #Skeet Ulrich #Brad Beyer #erik knudsen #beth grant

[themockingcrows]

Two Fates, Two Kingdoms Ch. 10 - Chilled Tomes

With the whirlwind of the festival behind them and the long stretch of winter laying out in front, John and Dave try to fall into the new rhythm of the season together. While winter begins to rage outside the castle, there are plenty of things to do within, especially once the library gets involved. How much more is there to Prospit than meets the eye?

This chapter is mildly nsfw

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The lingering smokes from the fires, the drink, the food, and the intense amount of merrymakers had rendered the general feeling of the crowd more than a little distracted by the time the duo was up to wandering further from the stage. John and Dave had been able to walk among the merrymakers fairly freely, dabbing paint and snagging foods they were interested in as they passed, nobody bothering to stop them or focus too closely. They had done their job, the gods had touched them, and that power still flowed through their veins. Who would want to tempt fate, and what could even be gained by heckling or troubling the quiet duo? Let alone why would they heckle a prince and his possession?

    Though John had come across his family, it really wasn't the best time to talk even if there were things to say. This was not a time for serious things anymore. This was the time for making the most of the last of the warmth, for drinking, for eating, for becoming ready to face the coming cold of Winter another time. It was also, at least from Dave's mostly attentive perception, a time for the common people to flirt and try to get in one another's pants in whichever darkened corners they could find. He'd spotted no fewer than a dozen clusters of people in some form of debauchery, half clothed and flush faced in the moment.

    They remained out in the open air till they'd eaten themselves full, Dave delighting in richly roasted meats and baked goods ranging from savory to sweet, and John enjoying the rare opportunity to feed Dave such varied tidbits by hand. Those who were sober enough to care stopped caring when they spotted the collar on Dave's neck, and assumed he was being treated like some glorified pet instead of a lover, hiding perfectly in the open. They drank a few glasses of sweet, warmed wine heavy with spices, and eventually gave in to fatigue enough to go indoors. The season would end without them now, and neither cared any longer.

    Expecting their prince to return and need a bath after his labors, a hot steaming tub lay in wait for John with soft cloth to towel dry with off to the side. Dave, he supposed, was likely meant to go to the servants baths or deal with being messy, or stick around and help John himself get washed. None of those were going to happen under his watch of course, but that bit of extra privacy that came with being alone at last together in a closed room was not only desired but deeply important.

    “Dave. Mind locking the door?” John asked, already working on removing clothes as he walked, pleased to hear the soft, telltale jingle as Dave followed the request and then trotted back to join his side. He stopped removing his own clothes in favor of turning to remove the clinging remnants of the festival from his small lover who was already expecting the sweet treatment, skinny arms lifted in the air welcomingly, shameless when he was left fully bare. The steam from the tub was keeping the air warm enough for John to feel comfortable when Dave quickly removed the last scrap of coverage from him as well. It was helpful, but nowhere enough to keep away the pervasive chill that made the hairs on his neck and arms and legs rise up as if possessed.

    No. Winter was the season for bathing with the tub right up by a nice stoked fire and still complaining that it was like the icy hand of misery upon him the second he left the immediate range of heat sources. Or, now, winter was finally a viable excuse to have Dave climb him like a particularly enthusiastic tree. Why waste all that wonderful extra body heat he put off just to the air on his own?

    “Do you want in first?” Dave asked, looking from John to the tub and back. “Or should I climb in first? I think I'd prefer the former, you can brace me if it's too hot then.”

    “Many times as I hold you, I keep forgetting you're so sensitive to some things,” John said, giving himself an itch on the thigh before he moved to climb in the tub, forcing the water to rise around his body till it enveloped him perfectly as a welcoming second skin. Even he winced slightly at the shock of heat before sinking down and coming to a halt, long legs stretching out and then bending ever so slightly once his feet planted at the end. Only once he'd settled did he hold his arms up in offer for Dave.

    “How bad is it?”

    “Pretty intense, but if you're on me it shouldn't be too bad. I'll try to keep at least your front a bit cooler.”

    “My front, hmm? That eager to be chest to chest again?” Dave asked, rounding the edge of the tub before starting to climb in and hurriedly try to press flat against John's torso with a grimace. “Is this a tub or a soup pot?!”

    “Both,” John groaned, holding Dave tight about the waist before letting his hands go lower to teasingly honk his ass cheeks, then go even lower to clasp against the backs of his thighs to keep him pressed close and secure. “Isn't it wonderful? Arch like a grumpy cat and your ass'll be plenty chilled as well, if you want.”

    “It's so warm.. It's like the deeper pools at home, the ones with dark water. Will you be able to lift me out if I get wobbly at the edges?” Dave asked, only half teasing.

    “...Dave, I could lift you over my head with one arm if I wanted to, I can keep you out of the water like a soggy dove if you'd like me to if you need to cool down.”

    “Well when you put it like THAT,” he chuckled, “how am I to ever say anything but yes?”

    “I do like when you say yes,” John admitted, kissing the side of Dave's head, then the side of his ear tenderly. “Then again, I'm quite easy to please, contrary to what those of the court would have you believe.”

    “I did come here with the expectation of you being a gigantic brat,” Dave said with a soft hum, adjusting the longer he remained still, starting to feel floaty at the edges once more. “..I don't think I'd have believed I'd be here right now, if anyone had told me when I was younger. Let alone everything that's happened before this moment.”

    “..Would you want to be here? I mean, given the choice.”

    “I'd rather be home, or at least be free to go back and forth between. Prospitian weather is not pleasant for me, nor is your bright sky. In an ideal world, John, I'd take YOU to MY home,” he said. He'd said it before, a dozen different ways a dozen different times, and while the idea of traveling was thrilling, the statement brought out a fairly complicated problem.

    John was an heir to the throne, he couldn't just pick up and travel to the country his people had been at war with for so long, and nor could he reasonably expect to be welcomed with open arms when he'd kept Dave away from his family for so long. He reached an idle hand up to stroke the back of Dave's neck, slipping his fingertips beneath the collars edge to soothe the skin there and spread some of the water around.

    He wanted to keep Dave happy, safe, and secure and away from those who would do him harm. He also, however, wanted to keep him all to himself. It was a terrible, greedy ghost of avarice that gripped his heart when John realized that he was in a position to make his desire reality. Surely he could keep Dave happy and safe at his side just as easily as anywhere else, right? Pamper him, give him more freedom as he aged and gained more power within the court. Everyone would get used to his presence, and they wouldn't question John's choices in how he handled Dave. He'd put off marriage, be the pickiest man alive and say nobody was good enough for him, put up with being labeled a brat.

    He'd never be able to marry Dave, but surely there was some way to give him a symbol. Maybe a different col-

    John's stomach plummeted and his blood ran chill as ice as he realized the direction his thoughts had so happily been trailing along, swapping out Dave's collar not for fine jewelry and trinkets and the kiss of fresh air but for another fancier collar. As if that would literally make any difference, or make him any different or better than the men who had dragged him to the castle, or who had kidnapped him. Those thought were just as bad as the people who'd hurt him, the people who'd broken him.

    No, it was worse. Because unlike any of those other people, faceless in the mist of memory.. he knew Dave. He loved Dave, even. Wanted to give him the world, yet here he was saying sweet words and petting him with one hand, and even briefly considering swapping out his collar with a more ornate one like that would mean literally anything. Remove one slap in the face and punch him in the chest twice more for good measure.

    “..John? You alright? You look kinda sick,” Dave said, and it thankfully drew him back out from himself and to the world again. Still plenty hot water, a good pressure on his chest, Dave's soft skin against his fingertips and those piercing red eyes watching him lazily as the steam drew out most of the body paint and marks from earlier so it would be far easier to scrub off.

    “Oh. Yeah, sorry, I'm alright. I guess I'm still just.. not quite right. From earlier I mean,” he stammered, but offered a grin to dispel the worry that crossed Dave's face.

“Ahh.. yeah. Heh. Me too, things are still a bit floaty, or not going the right speeds at all. How long does this feeling hang around? You're more experienced with all of that smoke than myself. It's not permanent is it?” Dave asked, sounding a bit concerned by then.

    “No, no, it's not permanent. The worst is already over, but there'll probably be some lingering effects through tomorrow. Lucky for us,” John said as he adjusted his grip on Dave's body, hands slipping and sliding along his pale back and ribs down to his hips, “there's not a single important thing to do tomorrow that I know of.”

    “None? It's just the ceremony and revelry, then.. nothing?”

    “Mhmm. We welcomed winter and hoped we'd survive, and partied in case we don't. We don't receive many dignitaries or ambassadors during winter, and we don't hold any big celebrations save for some birthdays mid-season and the halfway of the season.. and even that's more of a quiet personal celebration than anything else, because you're only half way through with more to come. No huge fancy meals, but there is sweets and a special dinner. It's quite nice actually, the entire family gets together and relaxes for a day and night.”

    “So I'll be around everyone else too? Or would I have to stay somewhere else or go with the servants?” Dave asked, and again John felt that bitter flavor on the back of his tongue rise to life with some bile. He could let their situation slip his mind briefly, but of course Dave was hyper-aware of it at all times. Risky moves put him at risk.

    “I think you'll be with me, and with everyone else,” John promised, hands lowering to toy with Dave's thighs before going back upwards along his ribs and shoulders. “They all like you, Dave, they want you to be well and everyone not my family knows that you're mine and my family is just as possessive.”

    “If your father were here, would I still be allowed to be with everyone?” he asked, tone a little flatter as the fielded the rougher territory.

    “.. I'm not sure,” John said with a sigh. “If you were, he'd want you to be doing servant's work and tending to everyone without relaxing, or I'd be getting yelled at for demanding you keep my lap warm instead of work.”

    “Keeping your lap warm. Is that my new job for the winter, John? You mentioned being sensitive to the cold, it would make sense if I was meant to keep ALL of you warm.”

    “Oh, yes. Definitely your new job, and the reason I'll give for having you in my arms at all times beneath my clock till Spring. I can't be expected to make frigid dashes to the library without you on hand, right?”

    “Kanaya as well,” Dave said. “We'd still be going to visit Kanaya too. I'm sure she'd be up to the task of keeping you in plenty of layers for times I peel away from your side to gather the food and do the other odds and ends I handle. Maybe we can even go outside and enjoy the snow.”

    John looked miserable at the idea of being sent out to the snow even for a promise of fun, but considering Dave enjoyed that weather so much.. maybe a little bit would be safe.

    “Mn. Yes, I suppose so. Perhaps some snowball fights, build some icy walls. Come back inside before I lose my feet and fingers,” John said as if considering the options.

    “Don't be so grim,” Dave said as he finally pushed at John's chest to sit upright on his lap, coping with the hot water but needing to wipe off all the paint and mess and sweat from earlier. “We'll go through this season with flying colors, I guarantee you'll see spring in a whole new light. You just need someone with ice in their veins to show you the best parts of it.”

    “I hope you're right, Dave. I really hope you're right.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

    As weeks passed, the outward reaching grandeur of the castle seemed to grind to a halt. The inner workings of the kitchens, the cleaning servants, the library and the day to day meetings that kept the capital running were still puttering along, but everything else seemed as slow as the steadily growing icicles outside the windows.

    John was taking to the cold weather like his family, burrowed in at least two layers at all times and spending his time by the fire reading as much as he could to pass his time when not required to be making appearances with his family. Dave was usually on his lap, across his legs, or cuddled up against his side in some other position to read beside him. His own books were shorter, smaller. Children's books still. Progress had definitely been made however, and Dave was beginning to understand more and more written word, and slowly starting to be able to get lost in the world of stories from an entirely different land.

    Some of the plots were familiar, similar to stories he knew from his childhood, and it was comforting to know that even now he could disappear into the world of a story if he wanted to. The mornings were chill and invigorating once he could peel himself out of the warmth of John's arms and escape the bedding to wander the room and dress himself. Dave didn't mind doing the morning tasks in the cold, found it easier to do even. The warmth John required was stifling sometimes, but at least there was always the cooler air near the windows and in the halls to soothe his overheated skin and let Dave catch his breath.

    He was often the only person roaming the halls when it came to things like going for snacks or to collect tea, and the few people he had to interact with tried their best to ignore him. Everyone knew about what had happened on the stage while he was half hidden behind the mask of a horned spirit he did not know even if they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, and that mark combined with his previous snidely given label of 'The Heir's Whore' was a heavy burden to bear even now. The kitchen staff's attitude changed depending on who was working at the time, or if Jane was down there baking and keeping herself warm and busy to pass the time. When the princess was there, a delight awaited him, and no shortage of fresh samples hot from the ovens. When the regular servants were all that surrounded him.. animosity.

    Shoving became common place once more, attempts to trip him or even knock the tray from his hands. A few times, some dangerous near falls down stairs. Today, he'd gotten off lucky and made it to the kitchen and back with only mild heckling, feeling much more alert and alive than he had in a while. The weather outside had turned from heavy snowfall to full on whiteout since last night, breakfast for today looked heavenly, and John had promised a visit to the library that would actually take most of the morning and early afternoon so they could load up on books and see what was recommended for better ways to help Dave learn to read and write.

    John, for all his boasting and bullshitting, was very aware that even if his heart was in the right place, he was no educator.

    Carefully shifting the tray to balance against his left hip, Dave opened John's door and closed it behind himself. The lock was turned without a second thought, a habit that hopefully would save them problems in the future and ward off anything similar to the sudden intrusion from the guards when Dave first came to stay in these quarters. He adjusted his grip on the tray once more and set it on the side table before crawling up onto the wide mattress and perching atop the buried mound of his lover like a lurking cat.

    “John. ...John, the fire's already stoked. John, get up. John. Breakfast. John. John. John, I could keep this up all day, you said we'd do things today, you have to get up to do any of these things,” he said, voice going from a soft murmur to a singsong tone as he began to rub at the human shaped lump beneath the blanket.

    “Mhh.”

    “John. The tea is getting cold, and the food's getting cold. If you don't get up, I might get cold too,” he said.

    “You don't get cold, Dave, you're part ice tendril,” came a muffled reply, but the lump did finally shift, trying to roll beneath the Dersite's thighs so John could reach up properly and snag him around the hips to return to the hiding space beneath the blankets despite the vocal complaints.

    “Hey! Whoa, hey, no, come on John I just got back! No more sleeping, get up already before I start biting you,” Dave complained, squirming and forcing the blankets down to their waists to avoid falling into the same trap of sleeping once more in the all encompassing warmth. “John. John!”

    “Augh, even after being out in the cold for so long you're still plenty warm. Teach me your secrets, Dave, teach me your secrets,” John groaned like a haunted man, head lowered to nuzzle into the soft tufts of blonde that covered Dave's head.

    “The secret's not being a lump and moving, and being from a place much colder than here, now come on and get up! You promised we were going to the library, I don't want to wind up going in the afternoon instead of early, we'd have the place to ourselves if we go now. Everyone who's awake and moving around doesn't want to be, and I'm sure the library itself is plenty comfortable.”

    “If Karkat has a heart it is. He cherishes those books like children, it's hard to tell what goes through his head when it comes to those things. Probably be just barely warm enough to breathe and a breath away from shouting if you try to stoke the fire any higher,” John grumbled, but eventually let Dave loose after kissing one of his wrists, trying to sit upright to clear his own head better.

    How damned hard had he slept last night? Winter was for hibernating like bears, suddenly living with someone active as a rabbit was difficult to wrap his head around, but.. at least he brought good tidings of breakfast that perfumed the air with richness. John gave up his complaints and started to eat at last, spreading butter and jam on a few thick biscuits and poking at eggs and thinly sliced pieces of smoked beef once the tray was scooted onto the bed. Dave cuddled back up against John's side and copied him, though he added more sweet jam and spend more time savoring each bite. When he'd drained some tea from his own cup and John didn't look close to keeling over again, Dave took the opportunity to go grab John's clothes, as well as taking up his lover's cloak and slippers.

    He may be exasperated by John's fragility to the elements, but it didn't mean he'd be a dick about it. Keep him warm, keep him comfortable, use the weather as an excuse to be cuddled close at every opportunity he could get. It was incentive to keep John moving through the day, keep him away from his urge to nap. Hard to believe that just a few weeks ago, Dave had still believed John was being overly dramatic instead of.. well. This.

    “So.. library. Right. Right.. I need to warn you a bit, Dave,” John said as he licked his fingertips clean of butter traces and went for his fork again. “Karkat's very defensive of the books, and I need to make sure you don't accidentally do something that'll have him kicking us out.”

    “..Wait. US? As in me getting removed AND you getting removed? You? The heir?” Dave asked, mouth half full of thick biscuit and looking stunned. “What would you be capable of doing to be kicked out of anywhere?”

    “Breathe wrong,” John said. “..No, seriously, it can get pretty intense sometimes. I know that if I put up enough of a stink, I'd be allowed to remain wherever I pleased unless my father or my older siblings were the ones demanding I leave, but it's not really somewhere I want to stand and be yelled at,” he admitted.

    “Okay. Teach me the ways to avoid upsetting this guy, and then get your ever widening bottom dressed so we can go fondle the books inappropriately.”

    John snorted and looked upwards to swallow his drink safely and not splutter it everywhere.

    “I'll get there in a second, lessons first. Let's see. First off, don't lean on the books. Don't dog ear the pages. Don't mark them, don't lick your fingertips to turn the page. Don't drop the books, don't yank them by the spines, don't eat or drink near them, don't force them open too wide.. What else.. Oh. Oh, right. Whatever you do, don't touch anything on the special shelves bare handed or without him getting them out for you first, the books and scrolls there are very old and very delicate. I'm not sure how he's going to react to a Dersite wandering around touching everything, but.. I'm fairly sure THAT at least won't be an issue. ..Lending them to you might be, but reading where he can see you should be fine, and I'll just grab whatever you want me to anyway.”

    “He's Alternian like Kanaya, right?” Dave asked, remembering her mention the man before. “I wanted to see Kanaya as well at some point, but I'm sure I can just go alone if you wind up too chilled. Library is more important right now, I want more books to toy with.”

    “Mhmm. He's Alternian, but I'm not certain if he was born there or not. His father traveled extensively with his family, it shows in his accent. He can read at least four languages too, it'd be considerably more amazing if he wasn't such a canker sore to deal with sometimes.”

    “What in the world did he DO to make you so sour about him? I've heard that he's brilliant but an asshole at least a dozen times, half of which within the last five minutes!” Dave said, finishing up his food and slowly scooting out of bed again to start coaxing John along with renewed vigor as he approached the clearing of his own plate.

    “When I was younger, I messed up a book badly. Namely, I borrowed an older book without his knowledge by snatching it off the shelf because I was curious, and spilled juice all over it. So not only was he having a conniption over a missing tome, but when he got it back it was mostly destroyed. He watches me like a hawk now, like I'm some toddler, and will literally never let me live this down. It's absolutely ridiculous, it's been years now.”

    John shook his head and gingerly peeled himself out of bed, shucking his bedclothes to put on the warmer outfit for the day, tucking his feet into his slippers and tying his cloak into place. His hair was a wild mess, but considering it usually took great effort to comb it halfway into place, he wasn't vexed. Dave looked brushed and polished and was a delight to look at, which was far more entertaining to John on a day like this. A beautiful distraction.

    “Alright. Let's get this underway then. Would you mind grabbing the books we've been dealing with so far? We'll start you on something a bit more advanced, maybe see if I can get him to lend out some of the books from Derse he's got squirreled away in the shelves. Give you a taste of home when you're sick of learning our flowery prose and trying to decipher the rampant allegory.”

    “FINALLY, the holidays have come early,” Dave groaned.

- - - - - - - - - - -

    “You can't be serious. You're teaching him how to read?” Karkat said from behind the table he'd been camped out at for the last ten hours, pen hovering over the inkwell and thick brows lifted in disbelief. He'd been told about Dave being given permission to speak a bit more freely, though requested it and everything that happened in here to be kept private. It wasn't hard given that the grand library space was empty aside from the sour looking Alternian before them. “Next you'll be teaching him to write as well.”

    “Actually now that you mention it, he's been doing fairly well with the basics, but he can't quite manage the last half of the Alphabet,” John supplied, lips curling in amusement.

    Things were going about as well as he'd expected they would. The books, far past the general time John had promised they'd be returned, were immediately inspected as if the pristine covers were hiding hidden bloody wounds and bandaged by the sturdy, broad man with the sharp gaze of rusty eyes and the dark tangle of hair. Dave could pick some some similarities between this fellow and Kanaya, sharp edges to his features here and there, crests of high cheekbones making his gaze look more severe. ..No, it wasn't the cheekbones, it was literally just the way his face rested, creased into what he was pretty sure would be a permanent frown if he remained that tense.

    It wasn't permanent at least. The sharp lines and scowl fell away when Karkat heaved a long suffering sigh and shook his head.

    “You teaching anyone anything is a terrifying thing to consider. What is he capable of reading so far, I'll help find something decent for him to work with as a next step. ..Ah. These books, right?” he said, gesturing to the stack he'd hurriedly flipped through to check for damages. “That's actually pretty high level for a beginner. Did you get much of an education in Derse?” Karkat asked, realizing he'd been talking around and over Dave instead of directly to him till now.

    “About as good as Master's, I assume. I had a lot of time spent with tutors when I didn't get caught trying to skip my lessons,” Dave said.

    “That'd do it, then. If anyone asks, you didn't get any assistance from me and if you say I did I'll deny it. But I know some things that would help you. ..Some old things,” he said. “I've got some teaching volumes from when Derse and Prospit were trying to establish a permanent treaty. It's for Prospitian's learning Dersian, but.. pair it with some young-ish books and it should be good. You can use it too, I suppose,” Karkat said to John, glancing him up and down.

    “Dersian? I thought it was Dersite,” John said, sounding a bit confused as he looked to Dave. He got a shrug in response to his unasked question. Why hadn't he been corrected in all this time?

    “Translation error that nobody cared enough to correct outside of Derse, and a matter of preference in the country. Dersite's use the same word in a differently pronounced way that doesn't translate that well, but the proper term for the language of Derse is Dersian,” Karkat said. “You can use either one, really.. but that's the proper word for it if you want to be formal. Honestly, I just think it sounds better.”

    “You really do know languages,” Dave said, slipping down into his mother tongue with only a bit of difficulty. He knew the words as well as as his own heart, but after so long of speaking, of thinking, in another language it felt strange on his tongue. John bit at his own lip as he watched, catching the sounds and a few words but not much else for the meaning of the sentence. His ear just wasn't trained for it yet.

    “Why is that so strange?” Karkat asked, sliding over from Prospitian to Dersian without any pause. “It's only proper to know the languages that lurk in the books I tend, it would be worthless to keep the texts and not be able to read or translate them for preservation.” Without missing a meat, he switched to Skaian. “Everyone keeps acting like it's so confusing, but it's stupid. All the languages have the same damned roots, similar words.”

    “I. ...I think I caught a few words of that last one?” John said hesitantly. “That was Skaian, right?”

    “Yes. If it was Alternaian you likely wouldn't have caught a single word. There's a lot of links between the three languages, it would have probably shifted to become even more overlapped if the bond had been established,” Karkat said as he got up and gestured for John and Dave to follow him along the shelves, wanting to find the books for the Dersite while his mind was running. Some children's books, the language book he'd mentioned, maybe some books from Derse if he felt like it.. Dave didn't seem the destructive type, to look at him, and Karkat prayed his instinct was accurate. Dave was surprised to see that Karkat was nearly the same height as John, but much broader built in the chest and hip.

    “A lot of things would have been different if Prospit hadn't murdered our princess,” Dave snorted. What good was it to dwell on such vast 'What If' thoughts when so many years of war had already been on the table and so many good people buried to keep their borders safe?

    “Excuse me?” John said, brows lifted. “We never murdered anyone, -you- did. Our prince left and we never got word on a marriage, we got an attack from Derse. It was all a plot to get an excuse to start a war with us, and deprive us of an heir.” This was basic education of a long known and told story, what rock had Dave grown up under aside from the one that made his home city? “I know that your kingdom is big on propaganda, Dave, but really now.”

    “Why would we murder your prince? He never came to our capital, our princess went to the border to meet him and accompany him back home and we never got her back. He carriage was found destroyed and there was no sign of her or her guards anywhere, we couldn't track her,” Dave said, sounding agitated. “We were starting to work with the glow worms in different ways and made advances in mining, our trade was starting to boom, of course Prospit would want our kingdom to fall: you wanted our resources. Couldn't get that with a marriage, you'd just get a fair price. Your people got greedy.”

    “What would we gain by killing a woman?! Your princess never came onto Prospitian territory, what of our prince's carriage? Surely there was some kind of wreckage somewhere obvious, or a body, or.. SOMETHING. Anything. We had no way to look in your territory once the war broke out and by then, like hell would your people tell a truth with a straight face.”

    “Single wagon. Hers. We never saw any man arrive, only her leave and never come back. It's been so long.. I wish I had our books, they explain so much better than I'm able to, scholars have been telling these stories for ages,” Dave groaned, rubbing at his face with his palms, ignoring the pointed stare Karkat was giving them both. “But Derse didn't do shit to your prince, I'm pretty sure you never even sent someone.”

    John looked sour still, features tense, but shot a look towards Karkat.

    “Your father knew even more than you do about all this, right? From all sides? Can you clear this up for me, so Dave can understand how things actually are? We lost so much, there was nothing TO gain from all that,” he said, frustrated and beyond his abilities. Argue and bargain with the upper crust who tried to sort out alliances for their own gain? Sure. This? No. Dave wasn't even having the same argument.

    “Yes, but you wouldn't believe me even if I tried to explain it, and none of it would make much sense,” Karkat said with a shake of his head. “So just go back to arguing like children, it would get as much done as my words. Just try to bear in mind that stories passed by mouth change a lot, and that you're both absolute fucking morons for not thinking your own country wouldn't warp things in their favor just as much as any other country.”

    What babies. Huffing, Karkat went back to focusing on his shelves, pacing like an aggressive cat as he hunted out a few items and passed them to Dave to hold and carry, trying to parse the covers and their far more decorative script.

    “..How do you people even read these things, there's drawings in the script,” Dave muttered, starting to get his temper under control. Karkat had a point, and John could be wrong in his own time.

    “The same way people read your writing when it's made all decorative for the sake of mixing art and writing to look important,” Karkat snapped, rounding the corner to an older section of thick spined books and carefully rolled scrolls in well organized and labeled boxes. With gentle hands, he pulled out a taller, thinner book and set it on top of Dave's growing stack. “..There. That's the language book, you two can deal with it together, but if you so much as loosen the pages, I'm coming for you. Your life will have an hour of hell for every minute I have to spend restoring it to the condition I'm lending it out to you in. And.. this one, too,” he said, adding another book to the top.

    “What's this one?” John asked, picking it up to flip through it, squinting a bit. “..Skaian?”

    “Your observational skills can be salvaged yet,” Karkat sighed. “Yes, it's in Skaian. There's enough overlap that you should be able to handle it well enough if you both can spot the Dersian and Prospitian roots of it, but treat it like a puzzle. The story is a good one if you can get through all of it.” He glanced John and Dave over. “If you two are to be near each other all winter, surely you'll have finished at least this book by spring thaw.”

    “What's the story about, though?” Dave asked. “Any heads up about that?”

    “No,” Karkat said. “I've given you a book of language, a book in Skaian, and a book in Dersian. Let me find some books for younger Prospitian's and you should be set for some time. Figure it out your damn selves. ..Don't try to write out your translation practice where anyone can see though,” he warned Dave. “But you should be fine understanding this if you're already reading Prospitian that well. I guess Kanaya had good reason to say you were such an interesting person.”

    Dave's lips curled into a little grin at the idea of Kanaya speaking positively about him to someone. Maybe he could convince John to swing by the seamstress' room after all for a quick visit instead of darting immediately back to his warm quarters.. it had been a little while since they'd gotten a chance to speak and spend some time together.

    “Thank you, Karkat. I'll do my best to keep the books safe,” Dave promised. “If I run through them though, I'll be sure to come back and get some new ones you'd recommend.”

    John seemed calmer now, happy again, and from the look in his eye he was satisfied that Dave looked happy. Hard to guess what he was thinking from Karkat's position. Was he happy because his pet was in a good mood and would be learning more? Was he happy because he gave a shit about him and his well being? Or did a sun of Prospit hold a bit of obvious light for a moon of Derse..?

    “That's all I could ever ask,” Karkat said. “Now keep moving before you get left behind, and John, if you tug any of the books you want out by the top of the spine, I'll make you stand out in the hallway while your Dersite gets books next time.”

    The prince rolled his eyes hard enough it could practically be heard, but nodded in agreement. For such a helpful guy, he sure was a dick.

#johndave #john egbert #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #my fic

[randaccidents]

Breaking and Entering

Ah the first week of school! The easiest way to drain all your writing juices. Stuffs gonna slow down from here and not like 3 fics a week like what I was doing, but I’m unlikely (cause I never finish promises) to stop now cause I have like *leans over to check* about 10 WIP fics I wanna write with new ideas every week soooooo...

Right the fic! Its a fic! Yayy I wrote things. The dialogue might come off as clunky cause school punched me in the guts while I was trying to write that.

Shadow People AU from the wondrous mind of @mine-sara-sp

TW: toxic thoughts, self-harm, self-blame, description and talk of that loneliness that seeps into your chest and hooks in deep and never ever wants to let go making you doubt your actions

Crypt broke into someone’s base and left with the real treasure and a no-no word gets thought.

The pickaxe shatters in his hands. Mechanically, he replaces it with another, adding to his internal count. That was the fifth iron pick he’s broken thus far. Another 3 to break before he had to surface and go to the shadow meetup. The thought of that made the hole in his chest feel twice as large, and he swung his pick hard enough that the shattered rock flew in large chunks around him.

It wasn’t that he was feeling lonely or left out. He had friends. He had 3D, and Phas, and TFC, and Abyss, and the grey stone that surrounded him on all sides. He had a pick in hand, a reason to keep chipping away at stone walls all day. He was fine!

...and he was a big old fool, to continue to believe that lie.

Collecting another pile of coal, he silently wondered if this was what the other shadows saw of him. A useless lump of black, easily replaced by better sources of fuel and light, cast aside like it was nothing. Bitterly, he broke the next block of stone, left hand holding onto the coal piece. Now he had only one use, like the coal he held - to ensure that 3D remained happy and unbothered by the venom of the other shadows, just like how the coal was only useful for torches that lit up the few blocks surrounding it. Ugly, practical, no use in the canvas of almost every build.

So deep into his bitterness, it came as a surprise when he broke through into a cavernous room. This wasn’t the first time he had broken into another person’s base, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. He guessed that he should check whose base this was and its size before he closed the hole he made in the wall, if only so that he wouldn’t accidentally break into it again.

Stepping through the hole, the first thing he noticed was just how large and sprawling the whole build was. This was going to be a pain to dig around, he could just feel it. Looking around, he took note of the many scattered blocks of precious ores lying around the room. This hermit seemed to be very rich. He would guess Jevin, but the slime wasn’t disorganised with his ores. Maybe Scar? The build of the room didn’t quite hold enough details to pin it to the hermit though. Looking around, he felt the beginnings of anxiety rise up his throat as he fully registered the scale of the room, how open it felt to stand under its ceiling. Picking a random hallway, he ducked into it and began counting how many blocks wide this end of the build was.

Walking down the large hallway, Crypt peered into every room he came across, curiosity overriding his earlier anxieties and bitterness. It’s been a long while since he had broken into someone’s base, although that was mostly because he heard this season was all about building up the overworld. Feeling the loneliness of being left out beginning to choke up his insides, he quickly ducked into the nearest room, slipping past the door in search of a distraction.

To his surprise, he found a room full of greenery and wildlife, parrots and bunnies and wolves and other animals lazing about the room. Looking up revealed a glass covered ceiling, redstone lamps shining through coloured glass to give everything a pleasant blue tint. Light humming music drifted through the room, backlit by the sound of water flowing through the room. Crypt took another step into the room, entranced. The room was expertly put together, a feeling of openness enmeshed with closeness in a dizzying mix of comfort he never thought he could feel in such an open room. Leaning against a nearby hand-crafted tree, Crypt closed his eyes. The room felt so isolated, cut off from the world around, that he couldn’t help but feel at peace. Despite all that, some small part of him was still counting the seconds, waiting for the moment he was meant to surface from the underground and meet up with 3D. He might have time to be alone now, but he’s meant to be easy to deal with, so he counts the seconds in his head instead of in the durability of his pickaxe.

Once he’s mentally reached two iron pickaxes left, he pushed himself off the tree. Stretching, he looked out wistfully over the garden room. This had been a great place to relax after his exhaustingly painful thoughts, but he still had to count the size and shape of the whole base. Turning away, he headed for the entrance.

And came face to face with two identical shadows, frozen in the doorway staring at him. He similarly froze, caught like a sheep eyed by wolves.

One of the two shadows seemed to snap himself out of it first. He came walking forward, holding out a hand to Crypt. “Hi, Crypt right? I don’t think we really got to meet properly considering what happened the last time we saw each other. I’m Cavalier! Welcome to the Hoard!”

Crypt looked down at the hand offered to him. Noting down the purple-and-yellow feathered wristband the shadow - Cavalier - wore, he added another identifiable shadow to his mental list of those he knew as he grasped the hand in a warm shake. Who else was new here that he had never met? Who else did he meet and never remember? Swallowing the sudden surge of bitterness, he gave Cavalier a warm smile. “Yes, I’m Crypt. I don’t quite remember where I met you first, but you are a very kind shadow.”

He could sense the moment when he messed up, feel the sudden tension run a rod straight through Cavalier into his grasp. “I’m not a kind shadow.” whispered Cavalier, his eyes averted and refusing to meet his.

Well, he couldn’t have any of that. No matter how toxic this line of thinking was, only he was allowed to feel sad in any form. He squeezed the hand he held lightly. “Cavalier, I may not know who you were or what you have done before I met you, but you have yet to drive me out of what is clearly your house, instead welcoming me for visiting. You are kind.”

“And so are you Crypt, to comfort Cavalier so quickly.”

The voice might have sounded like Cavalier’s, but it didn’t fool Crypt. Meeting Paladin’s eyes, he offered up a fragile smile. “Hello Paladin. Speaking of which, I may have broken into your area by accident. Is it alright for me to measure the size of this Hoard of yours?”

Paladin looked up at the ceiling in thought. Crypt felt Cavalier let go of his hand, the shadow moving to lean against Paladin to whisper into his ear, and felt a stab of jealousy that he quickly buried. No, he wasn't jealous of their bond, not at all.

"There might be a few problems with that actually," Paladin began, holding up his hand as they began to list out his reasons. "Firstly, the Hoard kinda twists and turns a lot, branching out in many directions. Secondly, I’m pretty sure that Keloid and Avarice intend to keep expanding the Hoard. Third, I kind of have a forge in here that may or may not expand. So it’s going to be difficult for you to really measure something that’s going to keep expanding.”

Crypt sighed dejectedly. This direction would be blocked off to him then. Reminding himself that he was meant to be easy to handle, he steeled his heart and gave them as careless a wave as he could. “It’s no matter. I can always tunnel another direction.” The durability counted steadily downwards in his mind. He turned and began walking towards the doorway, throwing a final comment over his shoulder. “I’ll show myself out. Sorry to break in.”

“Wait!” A hand grabbed his arm, bringing him to a gentle halt. He turned, raising an eyebrow at Cavalier. The shadow fidgeted under his gaze, suddenly uncertain of himself. "Uhm, since we didn't really meet before, a-and I don't know when we'll meet again, do you want to join us for a bit? Just to chat? You don't have to if you're busy, I understand!"

Looking at Cavalier was a mistake. Crypt questioned how anyone could say no to Cavalier. Sighing good-naturedly, he moved to a tree behind Cavalier, patting his helmet as he passed. Sliding to a sitting position, he smiled up at the stunned duo. "Well? I don't have a season you know."

Cavalier was quick to rectify that problem, practically throwing himself to the floor before Crypt, to the amusement of the other two in the room. Stomach down on the floor, he interlaced his fingers in a peak, resting his head upon it. Paladin leaned himself against Cavalier's side, amusement written across his face. Cavalier spoke up, not pausing for a single faux-breath. "What do you normally do? I don't see you around much, but you're from last season so you must have done something, right?"

Crypt smiled down at the excited shadow. Having someone be curious about him, wanting to know about him, was something new and foreign and oh so lovely. With warmth bubbling through his chest, he began to answer.

"You're right, I am from last season. But normally…"

-------------------------

Paladin was mid-rant about the difficulties of smelting emerald into workable tools when Crypt's mental timer went off, snapping the last pickaxe in twain. It was time to meet up with 3D for the shadow meetup. He found that he didn't want to leave, comfortable in his surroundings and the people around him, who were genuinely interested in what he had to say. But he had a job to do.

With a small grunt of effort, he pushed himself to his feet, cutting off Paladin's rant. "Crypt, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. The tone of voice made Crypt shake his head wistfully. Ah, to feel concern for him not borne of pity. He hefted the pickaxe he still held in his right hand. "It's about time for the shadow meetup. I have to meet with 3D, and I suggest you two prepare to leave too, or you might be late. See you fellas around soon."

Turning, he headed straight for the exit, only for a whisper of words to stop him in his tracks. "We haven't been in weeks, not since the first time Cav went…"

Whipping around, Crypt regarded the two shadows before him. Paladin was glaring at the ground, face severe. Beside him, Cavalier had managed to sit up, his face reflecting pained memories. Something dropped in the pit of his stomach. He could just comfort them, he knew, but part of him screamed to, for once, know what had happened. He asked the dreaded question, voice as gentle as he could without sounding like pity. He out of every shadow would know that pity helped no one. "What happened the first time?"

Cavalier's hand moved to clutch his wrist, tightening around the wristband that lay there as he looked away. "You know the one you shouted at?" Paladin asked.

He flinched. Oh, so it was his fault. He really shouldn't have tried to connect to the loop. Paladin looked up at him, face softening. "It wasn't you. You saved him actually. Coda was going to destroy his wristband."

"I fail to see the problem."

Paladin tilted his head at Cavalier, directing his attention. He could see Cavalier's fingers tighten, cutting holes into his arm. He wanted to comfort the shadow who had been so happy just minutes ago, yet he could tell that if he moved from his spot, neither of them would tell him what had happened.

And he was so tired of not knowing what had happened.

"You know Puzzler?" At his nod, Cavalier continued, fingers digging further. "He gave those who served him gifts. I was one of them. All the gifts were supposed to be destroyed after the war, but I kept mine. It's… important. To me." Cavalier turned his gaze to his wristband. "They didn't like that."

He found himself wanting to know more, to understand this part of the war no one wanted to talk about. But he could also see when his questioning would only cause grief. Moving to kneel before the knights, he gently began to pry Cavalier's fingers open. "Is that why you said you weren't kind? Because of what you did in the past?"

Cavalier's small nod, his guilty body language, reminded him so much of 3D. He patted the shadow's hand as he pried open the final finger. "But you're trying to be better now, to repair relations with them, and that's proof enough that you are kind."

Another hand pressed over theirs, making Crypt lift his head. Paladin was still looking away from them, but the shake of his hands spoke for him. Crypt squeezed his hand, prompting a sigh. "Trying works for him.” he whispered, voice choked and bitter. “Me? Two seasons later and only one new family member to show for it. I don’t think anyone notices if I’m even there. Makes it that much harder to be there for him. So we don't go anymore."

He heard the loneliness, the pained longing to be part of a community in Paladin's voice. It was a pain that he was well versed in. Some part of him guiltily rejoiced, he didn't expect to find someone else who understood, but it was overshadowed by his friends’ - could he call them friends? He decided that he would. - hurt. Gently, he pressed their combined hands to his forehead. “I understand,” he murmured, pushing himself to encompass all of his sincerity in his limited words. “It hurts, when no one cares enough to know if you’re even there anymore, or ask where you went. It’s a hole in your chest, something that doesn’t fill up because no one truthfully takes you seriously." He squeezed gently, ignoring the insistent sound of shattering iron in his head. "But you're not alone. You have each other, and from what I know those vexed shadows care too. Being in the loop is not the best, in all honesty. No one really cares about how little old Crypt feels anyway."

"But I- we do." came the soft whisper from his left, from the hand with purple and yellow wrapped around its wrist. The hand leading towards blue didn't respond, shifting as if to pull away. Crypt held on tight, lifting his head to meet their gazes. Paladin was quick to break off, looking away guiltily even as Cavalier held his gaze. Normally, this would have hurt more, reopened the hole in his chest. But after their conversations, after them both listening attentively to him rant about stones without judgement, their tones of concern and desire to be with him, he instead felt immense sadness that they couldn't see that they cared, and were kind.

Was this what Abyss meant when he said he was blind?

Paladin was still turned away from him. How could he comfort someone who wasn't even looking? A small memory poked at the back of his mind, and he let it guide him. Twisting his body slightly, he leaned forward to rest against Paladin's side, just as Phas always did with him. He thinks that it was a form of comfort. He knows that Paladin and Cavalier enjoyed touch, always reaching for a hand to hold. He hopes that this wasn't the wrong choice, feeling the knight tense up at his touch.

Then, Paladin relaxed, leaning into him in return. Crypt felt another presence press hesitantly against his back. He shifted slightly, allowing the presence to slot in among them, softly and gently cradled against his being. It was… warmth, something sliding in to fill a gap in his chest.

Paladin shifted slightly, poking him in the side. “Didn’t you say you had to go to the shadow meetup?”

… fuck.

He jumped out of the comfortable pile of shadows and headed for the door, grabbing his pickaxe as words stumbled out of his mouth. “I have to go so sorry it was nice meeting you two.”

Twin voices vocalised their goodbyes as he turned the corner and ran down the hallway. A voice snaked its way along the walls, carrying a question. “Will you come back and visit again?”

He blinked, seeing his shadow fly across the walls and keep pace with him, a perfect replica of his body. Shaking his head good-naturedly, he gave his shadow a grin and a thumbs up. Turning another corner, he left his unnaturally formed shadow behind, the shape buzzing excitedly as it zoomed back down the hall.

Bursting into the large cavern from earlier, Crypt quickly located the hole he had made and dove in, rushing to make up for lost time. It wasn’t until he hit the first branch in the passageway that he stopped, a problem suddenly before him.

He’d promised he would visit. He wanted to visit. But he didn’t have anything to mark the route to the Hoard. Rummaging through his inventory, he came across the pile of coal he had mined earlier. Bingo. Pulling out the dusty sticks TFC had summoned him with, he jerry-rigged a few torches together, striking the coal against shards of stone. Placing the torch down, he spared a second to admire his ingenuity before the mental striking of broken pickaxes sent him careening down the strip mine, torches lighting up every branch, something forgotten given new use.

#shadow people au #crypt #paladin #cavalier #me? writing from a perspective that isn't knights? more likely than you think #this was meant to be comfort but then the hurty held me at gunpoint #but its ties well #sorry if its messy school is a bitch #aight trigger tags time #toxic thoughts #self-harm #self-blame #extreme loneliness #sad bois in general too #my writing #I give these boys more friends

[vitalmindandbody]

Tragic, fascinating, brilliant- life of’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited

Two films and a TV series out soon portray the life of the jazz-age novelist and spouse of F Scott Fitzgerald

She is thought of as the original wild child, a pearl-twirling party girl who died at the age of 47 after a flaming broke out in the North Carolina sanatorium where she was a patient. Now Zelda Fitzgerald, the countries of the south belle changed jazz-age protagonist, dubbed the first American flapper by her husband and partner-in-drink Scott, is to have her own Hollywood make-over two cinemas are in the pipeline and a television series will air on Amazon Prime early next year.

All three programmes have starry mentions affixed: Jennifer Lawrence will take the lead in Zelda , a biopic directed against Ron Howard and based on Nancy Milfords best-selling biography; Scarlett Johansson will bob her fuzz for The Beautiful and The Damned ; and Christina Ricci will play the young and impetuous Zelda in the Amazon series Z: The Beginning of Everything. The name of the Tv succession comes from Scotts awestruck provide comments on satisfy Zelda: I cherish her, and thats the beginning and result of everything.

So what is it about Zelda that mesmerizes virtually 70 years after her tragic intent? In persona it is that the disturbances the couple lived through find an resemble in our own hectic times.

Interest in the Fitzgeralds has definitely been on the increase not only since Baz Luhrmanns film of The Great Gatsby in 2013 but likewise from the many similarities between their lives and operate and the period were living through right now, says Sarah Churchwell, author of the critically acclaimed Careless People: Murder, Mayhem and The Invention of the Great Gatsby .

Its a floor of boom and bust and it reverberates as “weve been” grappling with our own boom and bust, our own worries about the cost of our excess and our own social loss. The lives and fates of Scott and Zelda peculiarly simulated their eras: in the 1920 s they were roaring for all they were worth, but with the crash in 1929, everything fell apart.

It helps, more, that Zelda was so vibrant a anatomy. It begins with her elegance, says Churchwell. But too with the stories told in the 1920 s about the high jinks and fun she and Scott seemed to have. Parties really liked her: she was surprising, intelligent, astute, funny and adoration a good party. She likewise liked to be the center of scrutiny, and so had her detractors too. These stuffs combined to draw her a legend.

Scott frequently returned to their relationship in his myth, most notably in his second fiction, The Beautiful and Damned , which details the heady early days of their matrimony; and his mournful fourth, Tender Is The Night , in which the gilded daydream has faded into a more tawdry world. Zeldas exclusively novel, Save Me The Waltz , presented the relationship from her side.

They were arguably Americas first luminary pairing: a carefree golden couple who wrote their practice into the spotlight, developing their own mythology of gin-soaked dates and fun-filled nighttimes, simply to persist too long once the light-footed had started to dim. Their recklessness acquires the floor exciting and stunning, says Churchwell. But they paid a the highest price.

After a few giddy times, all the boyish promise crumbled away, leaving Scott a stunned and drunk jobbing hack in Hollywood and fetching Zelda to breakdown at the age of 30, a diagnosis of schizophrenia , now widely thought to be a bipolar affective disorder, and their own lives in and out of sanatoriums.

Her story is both fascinating and unfortunates, says Therese Anne Fowler, on whose novel Z the Amazon series is based. Here we have a woman whose knacks and vigour and ability should have stirred her a brilliant success, who was determined to be an fulfilled creator, columnist and ballet dancer in an era where married maidens were supposed to be spouses and moms, interval. Her devotion to Scott was, in many ways, her undoing[ although] he was just as imprisoned as she was. Had they cherished one another less, they might both have come to better ends.

The idea of Zelda as a bright woman captured by her duration has gained traction in recent years, with a number of occupations re-evaluating her through the prism of feminism although it is not always the easiest of fits. As early as 1974, the couples daughter Scottie balk such claims, writing the purpose of which is to vistum her father as a classic put-down spouse, whose efforts to express her sort were frustrated by a typically male chauvinist spouse were not accurate.

Writing in the New Yorker in 2013, Molly Fischer concurred , mention: Saving Zelda Fitzgerald is no easy proposition …[ she] does not want to be anyones domesticated, and theres something mortifying about the literary readiness to domesticate her, to transform an irritating girl into an appealing heroine.

The new cinemas may well further Hollywoodise Zelda, sanding away her bumpy boundaries and reinventing her as a relatable heroine for our modern times. The molding of Lawrence so often described as Americas Sweetheart in the Howard biopic is no accident.

A report about the upcoming Johansson film in the Hollywood Reporter showed it would draw on previously unreleased textile to indicate that her husband misappropriated his wifes opinions as his own.

Mark Gill, chairwoman of Millennium Films, the yield companionship behind The Beautiful and The Damned , concurs : She was massively ahead of her time and she took a vanquish for it. He plagiarized her ideas and threw them in his works. The matrimony was a codependency from inferno with a jazz-age soundtrack. The movie has, nonetheless, fastened the co-operation of the Fitzgerald estate.

Fowler agrees that there is a changing predisposition to refer our own concerns to Zelda. We do anoint her as a kind of proto-feminist heroine, even though she didnt hear herself as a feminist and didnt fully replace at anything, she says. But her original reputation is based on conventional paternalistic the terms and conditions of what the status of women, father and partner ought to be and do. Her ambitions and her insistence on engaging them were considered inappropriate and unhealthy; after her psychopathic disintegrate she was literally told that this insistence had created her divide recollection and that the path to a cure lay in giving up all aspirations that didnt conform to the paternalistic ideal.

Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence and Christina Ricci are all set to play Zelda Fitzgerald in the forthcoming products The Beautiful and the Damned, Zelda and Z: The Beginning of Everything. Composite: Getty Images

The backlash against this image is intelligible given that popular opinion of Zelda was initially driven by Ernest Hemingways notoriously caustic descriptions in A Moveable Feast , published posthumously in 1964, in which he dismissed her as insane and accused Scotts developing dependence on booze on his wife.

Our perception has very much changed, says Churchwell. We have come to sympathise with her frustration, to recognise her talents and to be more fair-minded about her selects. That said, she carefuls against attempts to create a Team Scott/ Team Zelda subdivide, as is so often the occurrence in far-famed literary partnerships. Its important to say that they always loved one another and wouldnt have appreciated parties taking surfaces Fitzgerald wrote a few years before he was dead that it was a moral responsibility that their friends understood the latter are a duo, a group and would abide that practice, even if her illness intended they couldnt live together.

Churchwell is likewise scathing about attempts to suggest Zelda had a larger role in her husbands operate than previously presumed. “Theres” those wanting to recognition Zelda with Scotts work, which is just silly and doesnt do females any preferences, she says. Its not a zero-sum activity: we are in a position recognise both of them for who they were.

Zelda had many abilities, but where writing was pertained she was probably more ill when she started to hone her knacks, and while it is true that Scott didnt especially want her to write partly out of territoriality but partly because medical doctors told him it was bad for her its too true-blue that her work isnt in the same class as his. Her individual sentences are often lovely, and she can create a mood and has clever revolves of word but her studies tend to be sketches rather than full fibs. If they had induced different options, maybe she could have been an important scribe, but the reality is that she wasnt.

Perhaps, then, the real key to Zeldas continued pull on our imagery lies not in her study but in her modernity. I dont want to live I want to adoration firstly and live incidentally, she proclaimed and it is that vitality and avarice for all of lifes knowledge, both good and bad, that extends down over the decades, granting each generation to see something new.

Z: The Beginning of Everything will air on Amazon Prime early next year

THEY SAID

I have rarely known a woman who uttered herself so delightfully and freshly: she had no ready-made words on the one handwriting and no striving for gist on the other. Critic Edmund Wilson

I fell in love with her spirit, her candour and her blaze self-respect, and its these occasions I would believe in even if countries around the world indulged in wild ideas that she wasnt all that she should be.

F Scott Fitzgerald

I did not have a single pity of insignificance, or shyness, or suspense, and no moral principles.

All I crave is to be very young ever and very irresponsible, and is of the view that my life is my own to live and be happy and succumb in my own way to please myself.

Other publics ideas of us are dependent mainly on what theyve hoped for.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Tragic, fascinating, brilliant- life of’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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[vitalmindandbody]

Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited

Two films and a Tv series out soon portray the living standards of the jazz-age scribe and wife of F Scott Fitzgerald

She is thought of as the original wild child, a pearl-twirling party girl who died at the age of 47 after a burn broke out in the North Carolina sanatorium where she was a patient. Now Zelda Fitzgerald, the southern belle made jazz-age protagonist, dubbed the first American flapper by her husband and partner-in-drink Scott, is to have her own Hollywood make-over two movies are in the pipeline and a television series will air on Amazon Prime early next year.

All three activities have starry refers fastened: Jennifer Lawrence will take the lead in Zelda , a biopic directed against Ron Howard and based on Nancy Milfords best-selling biography; Scarlett Johansson will bob her hair for The Beautiful and The Damned ; and Christina Ricci will play the young and impetuous Zelda in the Amazon series Z: The Beginning of Everything. The deed of the Tv serial comes from Scotts awestruck provide comments on fulfill Zelda: I cherish her, and thats the beginning and terminate of everything.

So what is it about Zelda that mesmerizes almost 70 years after her lamentable terminate? In part it is that the agitations the couple lived through find an resemble in our own tumultuous times.

Interest in the Fitzgeralds has definitely been on the projected increase is not simply since Baz Luhrmanns film of The Great Gatsby in 2013 but likewise from the many latitudes between their lives and cultivate and the period were living through right now, says Sarah Churchwell, generator of the critically acclaimed Careless Beings: Assassinate, Mayhem and The Invention of the Great Gatsby .

Its a narrative of thunder and failure and it resonates as we are grappling with our own boom and failure, our own worries about the costs of our plethoras and our own social outages. The lives and lucks of Scott and Zelda peculiarly simulated their periods: in the 1920 s the latter are roaring for all they were worth, but with the disintegrate in 1929, everything fell apart.

It helps, too, that Zelda was so vibrant a figure. It begins with her beauty, says Churchwell. But likewise with the fibs told in the 1920 s about the high jinks and fun she and Scott seemed to have. Parties really liked her: she was surprising, smart, shrewd, funny and desired a good defendant. She also liked to be the center of notice, and so had her detractors very. These happens combined to reach her a legend.

Scott repeatedly returned to their relationship in his story, most notably in his second novel, The Beautiful and Damned , which details the heady early days of their marriage; and his sorrowful fourth, Tender Is The Night , in which the gilded reverie has faded into a more tawdry reality. Zeldas simply novel, Save Me The Waltz , presented the relationship from her side.

They were arguably Americas first fame pairing: a carefree golden duet who wrote their behavior into the spotlight, creating their own mythology of gin-soaked periods and fun-filled darkness, merely to remain too long formerly the light-headed to begin to dim. Their recklessness moves the narration exciting and drastic, says Churchwell. But they paid a the highest price.

After a few giddy times, all the youthful predict crumbled away, leaving Scott a stunned and drunk jobbing hacker in Hollywood and introducing Zelda to breakdown at the age of 30, a diagnosis of schizophrenia , now widely thought to be a bipolar illness, and a life in and out of sanatoriums.

Her story is both fascinating and appallings, says Therese Anne Fowler, on whose novel Z the Amazon series is based. Here we have a woman whose expertises and vitality and ability should have shaped her a bright success, who was determined to be an attained master, novelist and ballet dancer in an age where married wives were supposed to be brides and moms, age. Her devotion to Scott was, in many ways, her undoing[ although] he was just as imprisoned as she was. Had they adored each other less, they are likely both have come to better ends.

The idea of Zelda as a bright girl trapped by her day has gained traction in recent years, with a number of projects re-evaluating her through the prism of feminism although it is not always the easiest of fits. As early as 1974, the couples daughter Scottie refused such assertions, writing the purpose of which is to view her mother as a classic put-down spouse, whose efforts to express her nature were thwarted by a often male chauvinist husband were no longer accurate.

Writing in the New Yorker in 2013, Molly Fischer agreed , observe: Saving Zelda Fitzgerald is no easy proposition …[ she] does not want to be anyones domesticated, and theres something embarrassing about the literary readiness to domesticate her, to change an exasperating woman into an appealing heroine.

The new cinemas may well further Hollywoodise Zelda, sanding away her rough peripheries and reinventing her as a relatable heroine for our modern times. The molding of Lawrence so often described as Americas Sweetheart in the Howard biopic is no accident.

A report about the upcoming Johansson film in the Hollywood Reporter indicated it would draw on previously unreleased substance to indicate that her husband stole his wifes thoughts as his own.

Mark Gill, chairperson of Millennium Films, the yield busines behind The Beautiful and The Damned , concurs : She was massively ahead of her time and she took a flogging for it. He embezzled her ideas and threw them in his works. The marriage was a codependency from hell with a jazz-age soundtrack. The film has, nonetheless, locked the co-operation of the Fitzgerald estate.

Fowler agrees that there is a thriving partiality to refer our own concerns to Zelda. We do anoint her as a kind of proto-feminist heroine, even though she didnt learn herself as a feminist and didnt amply replace at anything, she says. But her original reputation is based on conventional paternalistic the terms and conditions of what the status of women, father and spouse ought to be and do. Her aspirations and her insistence on prosecuting them were considered inappropriate and unhealthy; after her psychotic escape she was literally told that this insistence had created her separate memory and that the path to a dry lay in giving up all desires that didnt conform to the paternalistic ideal.

Scarlett Johansson, Jennifer Lawrence and Christina Ricci are all set to play Zelda Fitzgerald in the forthcoming makes The Beautiful and the Damned, Zelda and Z: The Beginning of Everything. Composite: Getty Images

The backlash against this image is understandable bearing in mind the fact that popular opinion of Zelda was initially driven by Ernest Hemingways notoriously corrosive descriptions in A Moveable Feast , wrote posthumously in 1964, in which he rejected her as insane and accused Scotts ripening dependence on glas on his wife.

Our perception has very much changed, says Churchwell. We have come to sympathise with her frustration, to recognise her endowments and has become still more fair-minded about her alternatives. That said, she precautions against attempts to create a Team Scott/ Team Zelda segment, as is so often the subject in famed literary partnerships. Its important to say that they always desired one another and wouldnt have appreciated people taking sides Fitzgerald wrote a few years before he died that it was a moral imperative that their friends understood the latter are a duo, a unit and would stay that style, even if her illness connote they couldnt live together.

Churchwell is also scathing about attempts to suggest Zelda had a larger role in her husbands cultivate than previously presumed. There are people who want to credit Zelda with Scotts work, which is just silly and doesnt do dames any promotes, she says. Its not a zero-sum tournament: we are in a position recognise both of them for who they were.

Zelda had numerous aptitudes, but where writing was concerned she was probably more ill when she started to sharpen her endowments, and while it is true that Scott didnt specially want her to write partly out of territoriality but partly because her doctors told him it was bad for her its likewise true-life that her work isnt in the same class as his. Her individual convicts are often lovely, and she can create a mood and has clever swerves of word but her undertakings tend to be sketches rather than full storeys. If they had constructed different picks, perhaps she could have been an important writer, but the reality is that she wasnt.

Perhaps, then, the true key to Zeldas sustained pull on our resource lies not in her operate but in her modernity. I dont want to live I want to desire first and live incidentally, she proclaimed and it is that vigor and avarice for all of lifes experiences, both both good and bad, that stretches down over the decades, earmarking each generation to see something new.

Z: The Beginning of Everything will air on Amazon Prime early next year

THEY SAID

I have rarely known the status of women who expressed herself so delightfully and freshly: she had no ready-made terms on the one handwriting and no striving for result on the other. Critic Edmund Wilson

I fell in love with her fortitude, her sincerity and her flame self-respect, and its these happens I would believe in even if countries around the world gratified in wild ideas that she wasnt all that she should be.

F Scott Fitzgerald

I did not have a single pity of insignificance, or shyness, or disbelieve, and no moral principles.

All I crave is to be very young ever and very irresponsible, and to feel that my life is my own to live and be happy and die in my own practice to delight myself.

Other people ideas of us are dependent predominantly on what theyve hoped for.

Read more: www.theguardian.com

The post Tragic, fascinating, bright- living for’ wild child’ Zelda Fitzgerald revisited appeared first on vitalmindandbody.com.

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