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#my own personal Izzy Hands
triflesandparsnips · 1 year
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Man I cannot wait for you disgusting Izzy stans to eat dirt in s2.
You type rapidly, copy-pasting the message you've posted half a dozen times already. It feels good, hitting the button and sending the message -- a fizzing rush beneath your skin, a dull spike of something hot pressing the back of your neck. The jitter fades almost as fast as it comes, and that's the last thing you want. You type "Izzy" into the tag search, looking for another open ask box.
But my darling, you don't have to look for another.
People have the most astonishing ability to sense when they're being watched. Or, in this case, studied-- people, like yourself, can feel when someone is looking them over. All over, in fact-- from the small hairs above the shell of your ear, to the shadowed skin just beneath the collar of your shirt, to your wrists, and your hands, and the tips of your fingers pressing eagerly against the soft indents of your keyboard's keys.
Yes, sweetheart, I see you. And what's more, I'm with you; just over your shoulder, just close enough that I'd feel the air move if you turned around to look.
You do all this because you seek some proof, any proof, that you have the power to make others feel something. There are easy ways to do that, and you think you've found one of the easiest, because it seems so very simple to make others angry: Pick a thing you think they care about, and insult it. Run from any confrontation, hide behind a faceless mask, breathe hard and tell yourself that you did it, you did it, you made them feel what you wanted them to feel (and if you look back you'd get proof, but you rarely do, hardly ever do, and you don't want to think about why)--
But sweet, darling, dear one-- if you ever do turn around-- if you ever look back-- you'll see me there. And I need you to know, above all else: I couldn't possibly be angry with you, not for this.
All that need, all that want-- it's intoxicating to behold. I could watch you for hours like this and never have my fill.
And it's because that rush you seek, dear heart-- that high that comes so fast and leaves you lower than you were before-- that thundering adrenaline that keeps you pressing pressing pressing keys in hopes of finally getting enough--
I think that's the closest any of us will ever be to really understanding the motivation of Izzy Hands. Because you've done it, love. You're him.
Isn't it wonderful, then, that so many would love you despite it all? That so many would seek you out specifically to love you? That there are those who know you-- who see you-- and want to show you how to find a rush that never truly leaves?
My dear and darling, my Izzy: thank you for drawing my attention. You have it now. I'll think of you tonight, and tomorrow, and for days and days-- I'll be thinking of your hands, and the fine hairs just above the shell of your ear, and the shadowed dip between your shirt and skin-- and most of all the burning depths of want you have that push you to do so many ill-thought things.
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ourflagmeansgayrights · 8 months
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also ok i know i was poking fun at some of the responses from izzy fans to the vanity fair article but some izzy haters on twitter were also being so fucking annoying about the con quotes. getting mad about some nonspoiler quotes they got from the guy during his downtime like my besties in fandom we literally do not even have a trailer all we have are eight entire pictures and an article written by someone who spent one (1) entire day on the set. y’all do not need to get this worked up that con o’neill answered questions about his own character and was quoted by a pop culture magazine. calm tf down.
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sorry i didn’t reply to your texts i was busy thinking about izzy hands all day
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wolfpoets · 6 months
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so weird to see takes from people who Don’t Get why people are taking izzy’s death personally. it’s the betrayal of a show telling you it’s gay characters get to live and be happy - except for this one. not the oldest queer. not the queer that talked about how happiness isn’t made for people like him, which resonated with so many real life queers. not the one who finally found his queer family after a lifetime of repression. not the one who suffered devastating trauma and physical disability. sorry but for a lot of folks izzy was the character who felt the most real. killing him ended up feeding into a lot of real world fears for some of us.
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lobotomy-jpeg · 1 year
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👀
[id: Digital sketch of Izzy Hands from OFMD. He's looking at you behind his shoulder. He is wearing a long dress, opera gloves and kitten heels. His eyes are lined with eyeliner and he is wearing a pearl necklace and bracelet. /end id]
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zo1nkss · 6 months
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CJ literally called Ed a slur multiple times on-screen to his face, so if you're really going to get upset at BIPOC for feeling vindicated that the white man who's still alive is actually learning to treat Ed like a person, but you don't say shit to ppl who are casual CJ enjoyers about his racism and how he has not unlearned a single lick of it because he died instead, you can actually fuck all the way off.
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ladyluscinia · 2 years
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Ok, so there's one line that I want to talk about, but I think it's getting off topic in my current Izzy meta so I'm gonna sidebar into a separate post.
In 1x04, during his resignation speech, Izzy says:
"For years I've followed your every whim, I've managed your increasingly erratic moods, I've massaged this crew when they were worried about your judgement..."
The first two points line up with what we see of Izzy - obviously he's not good at managing Edward's moods but it is apparent that he's trying, and that Edward's mood swings are real enough he needs someone to try - but the third one seems to inspire a lot of debate.
I think a lot of people hear that phrase and assume it means breaking out people skills, persuading and reassuring and smoothly lying as needed to convince the crew that everything is fine and dandy (which I'll acknowledge is the connotation you get from "massaged"). And then they try to picture Izzy doing that, imagine at best his scrambling in Ed's 1x10 depression era, and even the most ardent Izzy apologist struggles to believe it. From a meta standpoint, Izzy lying here can have a lot of implications - toxic caretaker, inflating his own importance, manipulation, etc. - and most people are offering pretty solidly constructed arguments, but I can't quite make them click.
The thing is... I don't think Izzy would mean it that way???
First, Edward knows Izzy, and no one who has has known Izzy for more than 5 minutes would believe he's been doing that. Top stupidest moments to lie. Izzy might be good at self deception for repression reasons but I can't imagine he actually thinks he's been doing anything resembling that, so it's not ego. And finally, possibly most importantly, persuading and reassuring the crew through communication and plying bonds of trust is the kind of leadership style that Izzy straight up does not believe in. Why would he be falsely associating himself with it?
Rather, I think Izzy and Edward are both on the same wavelength about what "massaging" the crew entails, and it's pretty much what Izzy actually has been doing. Moreover, I think it technically works.
"Piracy is a culture of abuse" we establish in the first episode, and most every pirate we meet understands there is a traditional way things are done and power is maintained. It's what Hornigold was pulling when Edward and Jack reminisce fondly about being "beaten like dogs," it's why Edward would never have tried to rock a silk robe on deck before meeting Stede, and it's all about respect. As a captain, you get respect by violently claiming riches and glory (see what most of the Revenge crew expects in early eps, especially Pete) and you secure respect / power by force (Buttons encouraging that "iron fist"). Edward and Izzy know this.
Izzy "massaging" the crew would be a blend of blunt reminders why working for Blackbeard is the best gig you will ever get and threats / physical punishment for questioning him. Carrot and stick method, with a very unpleasant stick. That moment where he yanks on Fang's beard isn't proof he can't massage the crew, it is part of him keeping them loyal in the standard pirate way. "Don't ask why Blackbeard wants this thing done, just do it because Blackbeard is telling you to." (Sidenote: While it's mean to Fang - bad Izzy - as a general rule Izzy seems to trust Fang to get jobs done, so it's not completely a sign of disrespect. He's reinforcing power for show and they are all somewhat aware of that.) And since the show is critiquing a social status quo more than an individual management style, I don't think we're meant to read it as wholly ineffective. Good? Fuck no. But - with Edward's crew at least - probably effective and accepted as normal.
(Stede's crew is different, being specifically protected from the abusive standard approach, so of course Izzy can't make them do shit. And by the time he does have the authority, he has no one around who is willing to accept the old system or enforce it. A bad social status quo loses power in an improved social system.)
So going back to that bit of the line, Izzy means and Edward hears: "I've kept the money flowing and the supplies stocked. I've talked up your reputation and mystery. And I've immediately and effectively disciplined anyone who was stupid enough express doubts."
And lest we fall into the trap of underestimating Edward... He's fully fucking on board with this system. It's not just Izzy's thing that he's letting him run with or whatever.
Edward's response in this conversation is a mocking "Sounds stressful, Izzy" because he's already got what he thinks is a foolproof and brilliant plan (which he's concealing to fuck around), so as far as he's concerned, Izzy's complaints are baseless and therefore he's just bitching about doing his job. Edward himself has been leaning on the same expectations and power structures all episode. He's just a hell of a lot subtler about it (because that favors the leadership dynamic they have going on).
Not even a minute before, Edward was introducing Stede as "Blackbeard" to the crew, and absolutely threatening them to play along. As soon as Stede comes out he very flatly demands "Clap" over his shoulder, then he's back to having fun. He's laughing when he first tells the crew to line up and greet Stede, but when they don't listen he repeats the order in a way that clearly conveys Do Not Ignore Me. Stede's crew thinks he's way crazier than advertised but they are also terrified, and Edward is using that to take control of the ship. And there's another very telling moment (to me) earlier in the episode when he first meets them.
The first Blackbeard scene cuts straight from Izzy suggesting executing the whole crew and Edward not caring at all (I think his mind is still on the clouds tbh) to Pete being in awe. Funny, but it makes it easy to miss Edward's apathy. Then Ivan smacks Pete on the back of the head and Edward jumps off that for his introduction. The first words he says that the crew can hear are "Boys, boys, boys! Hey, don't brutalize our guests like that," and this is deliberate as fuck. Edward is peacocking through that whole interaction, being showered with praise and awe up until Frenchie asks if they are going to live and Izzy shuts it down.
And what does Edward do? He shrugs.
Aw shucks, looks like Izzy is being a buzzkill. Anyway, Edward is off to go poke around the ship some more, good luck random pirates with the whole being pressed into repair work by his men thing, see you all later! Fang hisses and yells at Izzy's command, Ivan punches Pete in the gut again, and Edward doesn't even glance over. Because he's not actually disapproving. It's basically just a good cop / bad cop routine, and Edward did the friendly introduction bit. He made a good first impression, made them want to impress him, and now he's walking away (still talking to Izzy) to let the violent enforcement bit resume since that's how shit gets done.
Carrot. And stick.
It's just how you run a pirate ship.
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arsenicflame · 1 year
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my brain never lets me rest so anyway today ive been thinking about how the sera + angela scene in asgardians of the galaxy would translate excellently to bellhands
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it wouldn't be an exact translation but i could see something like:
the crew of the wyddah and the revenge fighting (for some reason idk), they dont realise who the other side is exactly, but then izzy yells to stand down, finally realising who the other crew is (maybe hes just appeared on deck) only for stede, obviously not knowing what the hell is going on, starts yelling at izzy, but by this point sam has heard izzys voice and is throwing himself across the ship to get to his husband (and now theyre making out and stedes just like. yeah alright)
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thepirateagenda · 2 years
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If they cancel Our Flag Means Death it’s going to be such a kick in the teeth for all of us. The cast, the crew, the fans, everyone.
Sure, plenty of shows in pre- and post-production are getting scrapped and this entire situation is completely unpredictable but the hype for the show is too great so it’s not like they’d cancel it because it’s a queer show (fuck if it doesn’t feel that way though).
Our Flag Means Death has genuinely changed the game for the better. The amount of love and thoughtfulness and insight and care the cast and crew put into it - a queer show BY and FOR queer people - is insane and it shines through every single scene. Taika fell in love with acting again. Rhys found the role he was born to play. Nathan and Vico got to be wholeheartedly themselves. God, the cast/crew is just so excited about this show!!!
And us!!! I’ve never been a part of a fandom as bright and creative and active and funny and imaginative and genuine and accepting and and and . . . So many of you have come forward to say that you are creating again. What a wonderful impact on the world! I am not exempt from that either! Ever since watching Our Flag - since falling in love with this weird, quirky cast - I have been inspired, impassioned, itching to make things exist. I picked up a pen and wrote for the first time since high school. I’ve been unmotivated and bored for years but Our Flag is so fresh and passionate you almost can’t help but feel it too.
Maybe I’m rambling; maybe I lost the point but in the end Our Flag Means Death has touched and changed the lives of so many of us and to lose it all in an instant would be absolutely devastating. So I’m holding out hope but if we don’t make it the only thing I can think to say, to the cast, the crew, and to all of you is:
thank you
love, with all of me,
-Em
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putting that old man through so much anguish <3
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lollipop & chili (simply bc i will fucking fight them i’m not even kidding i’ve been longing to act on my violent urges toward a deserving target :3c )
❤️❤️❤️❤️
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Just once I’d like Jack/Ed content that isn’t Izzy related.
#Izzy can be a background character but so much shit has Izzy plastered all over it#scrolling through the calico jack/edward teach flag on a03 looking for a single fic that isn't actually just about izzy#that I haven't already read#lookin at you too calicobeard discord server#riddle me this why is there a stizzy channel in you#i go in there and it's izzy izzy izzy#I need to rewatch episode 8 and write my own fic apperantly#calicobeard#i love calicohands as much as the next guy i really do#but when I also love calicobeard#infact I'm more of a calicobeard bitch#If I filter out non ofmd fandoms past Jack/Ed Stizzy Blackhands Calicohands and Jack/Ed/Izzy and the r*pe tag I'm down from 117 to 57 fics#and even that for some reason doesn't filter out past blackbeard | Edward teach/'calico' Jack Rackham - relationship for some reason#which should not be a different tag from past Blackbeard | Edward Teach/'Calico' Jack Rackham but for some reason is#like even then there's 13 blackbonnet fics that are tagged past or implied calicobeard that have not been filtered out#one steddy hands fic with trans girl ed that you couldn't make me read with a gun to my head#no mater how many times like silk has been recomended to me I'm not touching it i'm sorry#transfem ed and steddy hands are two of my personal icks#and one that discloses that the Jack/ed is like 2 sentances#and then one in russian#so that is a grand total of 41 viable Jack/Ed fanfics 3 of which are mine and a good 30 of which I have read#and guess what#looked through all of them#2 are still about Izzy#one is about Ed and Izzy's relationship they just don't have sex#and one my friends is about Izzy being hornigold's bedwarmer#it's a great kink flex but I'm not into it#so actually its more like 39#and again I've read more than half of them so
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i rb a decent amount of izzy hands content (including ship content) but thats only bc this fandom held me at gunpoint and forced me to think* abt him. like i KNOW he's a very complex and well written character and i love that he's not just a one-note antagonist, his motivations and conflicts are extremely interesting and con's acting choices are exquisite and give so much depth to the character. but that being said he annoys me and i don't like him at all fhudkghdufkghfkj
(*fandom forced me to think abt him but y'all CANNOT force me to like him!!! noah fence to izzy enjoyers but i cannot relate)
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jupitermelichios · 2 years
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ugh i have 0 ofmd story idea and so far even the kinkmeme hasn't given me anything that really grabs me, but i'm still riding the wave of hyperfixation from working on 5 stede things izzy tries and izzy's head feels like the equivilent of a really well broken in sofa, it's just comfy to be in rn
i want to channel that energy into writing and instead i'm just doing the mental equivilent of a greyhound walking around and around in circles instead of lying down
i have ideas for stuff i want to do in that universe, but none of them are substantial enough to stand on their own, they need a plot to make their home in and all i've got is me holding up izzy like the marge simpson 'i just think he's neat' meme
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boysnberriespie · 1 year
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I was talking about this on Twitter last year but I’ve been sort of learning how to draw NSFW art but Catholic guilt will have my brain screaming lmaooo
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bvnnywrites · 7 months
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Still Waters Run Deep
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Chapter 1: Apple of His Eye
PAIRING: Eldritch!König x Reader
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As I've said before, English isn't my first language, so this would e fun. Hehe. I'm so excited to share this fic with you guys hehehehe. I'm posting this on both Tumblr and Ao3. Who knows, the story on the other site would be different hm...? I'm not telling when, but hehe. Also, reader is in her twenties, specifically 22, so yayeet. If you don't like how fucked up this story is gonna get then please turn around and go on your merry way. I'll be posting the first chapter here on Tumblr because jesus, my ao3 invitation has yet to arrive. Also, don't forget to write comments, I need feedback because I eat them like it's groceries-
WARNING: NON-CON/DUB-CON, DARK, SMUT, NSFW, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Fingering, Stomach Bulge, Age Gap, Unprotected Sex, Cockwarming, Implied Discharge, Power Imbalance, Abuse of Authority, No Beta Reader, Dom! König, Size Kink, Size Difference, Cannibalism, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Older!König, Eldritch!König, Monster!König, Masturbation, Dark Romance, Blood and Gore, Violence, Monsterfucking
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WHENEVER A CERTAIN COLONEL PASSES BY the soldiers would grow quiet, as if he’s sucking the joy with him and then the chatter would continue once his thundering footsteps would fade away into quietness.
A silence would hang over the air for a brief moment – like they’re making sure the danger has passed before proceeding – and the soldiers would continue to chat once they're sure it was safe to proceed. Babbling away but their voices would be a bit hushed, as if their ears were on the lookout for the colonel’s presence.
The colonel was absolutely – you remember his name being König because you saw him score several shots using a sniper rifle in training – wholeheartedfuckingly terrifying.
König strides confidently across the battlefield and KorTac base of Operations in the same damn manner—Arrogant, egotistical, prideful. The mountain of a man walks in like he owns the place, and troops would be so relieved if they see him in the battlefield because they know that he'd be able to turn the tides to their favor.
And the fucker knows it. He knows people look up at him. Looking at him like the fucking messiah that would save them right then and there.
He relished in it.
And he was so fucking gigantic as he is muscular too, to the point his huge hands could definitely crush your head with his fingers if he saw fit. To say he was a Greek God was insulting. No, he was like Kronos.
Destructive.
All-devouring force.
Whenever you stood too close to him—even tho you recall not stepping too close to the colonel because you wanted to respect the five-foot rule for everyone lest they give you the go signal to hog their personal space like Izzy does—you can see the way his muscles would bulge whenever he tightened his fists, or how the veins on his arms were so… alluring, and holy shit he has scars. Battle scars that should've repulsed you but you find yourself wanting to trace it with your fingers.
His form is almost mesmerizing—like how you'd imagine Fenrir slaying Odin from one of the Norse Myths.
However, like Fenris Wolf, he too was bound and shackled to base. Most of the time, at least. You would see him buried and drowning and several paperwork when you go to his office while Roze waited for you by the door.
And you could see his baby blue eyes squint and conjure a glint of annoyance as you hand him your report. He has pretty eyes, that colonel. He doesn’t speak to you, always uttering grunts or huffs. Dismissing you with a wave of his hand—always gestures but never talking.
It reminds you of gray skies and blue muted waters, and sometimes they seemed vibrant when you hear the sinister glee in his voice of bashing an enemies head open like how watermelon breaks – and then he'd look at you and you'd immediately avert your gaze because oh god that would be so fucking awkward if your superior had caught you staring at his eyes like a creep.
As mentioned before, König is mostly quiet, and you didn't really hear him talk since he never talked to you at all. In the battlefield, when he barked out orders, gunfire would drown them and those closest to him would relay the message on to the others.
Lieutenant Izzy – Izanami actually, but she preferred being called Izzy – always spoke in Japanese, but she can speak a few broken English words. She didn’t seem to see you as a liability, often asking you out to grab lunch with her and Captain Roze. The white-haired girl always made sure you never missed your meals, and if you did, she’d make sure to hand you some MREs for the sake of making sure you’re taken care of.
She said to you once, “Be careful of that colonel, he is… what is English word that for… word you use when object is not good to you—harms life.”
“You mean dangerous?” Roze would correct her. “We really need to work on your English, girl.”
“Yes, that the word I’m looking for.” Izzy would laugh. “ローズ先輩、訂正してくれてありがとう。”
Roze, on the other hand, was more closed off. She was ruthless and strict, but you’re convinced that she cares about you the same way Izzy does because she gets this soft glint in her eyes when you tell her that you forgot to eat or missed lunch. Then five seconds later you’d feel an MRE smacking you on the chest, and Roze is barking at you for being stupid enough to not eat and say you’re lucky that her and Izzy are looking out for you.
But you can tell that both are highly protective of you, like older sisters making sure their youngest sibling didn't fuck up on missions or get hung by their rib by enemy soldiers.
Whenever the colonel passed by, you remember Roze’s words “Keep your gaze down” because apparently there was an incident where König had beaten the shit out of a recruit because the poor thing looked at him funny. Something about the recruit scrunching his face in disgust at the colonel or was it because he had mocked him behind his back? 
Either way, the kid was beaten to a pulp. 
The colonel was never given a court martial, however, since he had been able to pull rank it seems. Roze was the one who told you during lunch, voice in a hushed whisper.
Then your thoughts wander back to the nightly horror stories your soldiers would tell to one another. You had a habit of visiting them before making sure they all slept on curfew time. It was fun and it helped boost morale amongst the troops. It also helped that you were a younger lieutenant, so you were able to easily connect to your platoons’ humor and quip remarks. 
You remember the hushed whispers in the barracks, each of them uttering stories of what König might look like beneath the mask.
You often thought maybe he looks so mutilated that it resembles Nemesis from Resident Evil or maybe Salvatore on the Village Version. But you've seen the pretty blue eyes König possessed and you just know that deep down, he was a handsome man. 
Sure, he was old enough to be your dad, had a huge ass age gap that's wider than the forehead of the colonel of the Mexican Special Forces you had previously worked with due to König being forty-five years old, but you'll admit a pretty man if you see one.
However, your soldiers' claims were way more hilarious as they spoke. Each sounding absurd and stupid than the last.
"I heard he has three faces, like the demon Asmodeus. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if he's a prince of Hell in disguise. Have you seen his body? What I'd give to climb him like a tree." 
"I could've sworn I saw worms underneath. Kind of like maybe a maggot-infested lower jaw since I heard the skin of his jaw had been burnt off."
"I think he has the face only a mother could love. Men like that exist."
You had grown up in a small town, people believing heavily in superstitious beliefs. However, once you've left said small town, you realize that they were silly things that old people simply uttered into the wind.
"Did you know a psychic said I would get murdered when I was ten?" You laughed at the absurdity of it all, wanting to add some scary shit of your own.
"Really, L.T?" One of your soldiers said. "Oh, this has to be good!"
“Yeah. I remember she was very old, and if I were correct, I think she moved from Hallstatt? Wherever the fuck that is.”
You told them the stupid little story. How you lost twenty dollars to a fraud only for them to say you'll get murdered, and how it spooked you as a kid and made you all paranoid only to realize you just got scammed out of your money.
"The thing that will kill you is hiding its face. The thing that will kill you has its crown scraping the ceiling. The thing that will kill you has sharpened teeth. The thing that will kill you will charm you with its glamor and false promises. The thing that will kill you will devour you with its appendages and fill you with its seed. The thing that will kill you… you won't see it coming."
The soldiers all laughed, including you, after you've said it in the most croaked voice as you mimicked the old psychic. 
You've never laughed so hard in your whole life, but you were glad that it was your troops that were with you and not stuck up stoic alpha male soldiers. It wasn't real, but it didn't hurt to be cautious. 
All of you got along. 
Sure, most of the soldiers given to you were teens – because the military was just hiring eager and stupid kids, and by God you were going to protect these little shits with your life – but it was fine because they had you. For as long as you live, you promised yourself you'd make sure they were all safe.
And you took them under your wing and you feel bad because they were kids compared to you. They shouldn't be here dressing up as soldiers and being sent off to war zones with you. These kids were supposed to be at home, where they could be safe, and worrying about teen stuff. But then again, KorTac was a company at the end of the day. 
A Private Military Company—basically just glorified mercenaries at this point.
Of course, they would exploit anyone who is willing to serve for their country while also getting paid generously compared to being in a government affiliated military—Hell, you're here, aren't you? Why? Because they can be greedy fucks and capitalism exists, and KorTac rivals Disney in terms of being a well-known PMC in the military world, and you're broke. 
Not to mention that the BAS – Basic Allowance for Subsistence – was fucking higher in KorTac than the government affiliated military you used to serve in. A BAS rate of seven hundred sixty-two point sixty-nine euros for enlisted members, while officers are given the same but with an increased rate of four hundred ninety-seven point fifty- eight euros is better than the current BAS.
You also get the average of six thousand and seven hundred eighty-two euros at an average per month here in KorTac. The pay is way fucking better and you can save up money to the point you were able to pay off your own student and credit card debts and leave your parents' nest since you were basically loaded at this point. 
Money was enough to blind you from the dangers that lurked beneath the still waters that run deep that is KorTac.
"The thing that will kill you… you won't see it coming."
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“Did you hear what happened?”
“What?”
“Another soldier went missing again.”
Captain Stiletto changed her mags, examining her scope as she spoke to you with a calm voice—as if she hadn’t just dropped the news of someone going missing. Again. You were ready to hear which recruit was unlucky enough to be whisked away and never to be seen again. That or they turn up mutilated and scared, and the poor things won’t even talk. However, a missing rookie suddenly turns up out of nowhere after months of disappearing without a trace was statistically low.
No, really, it would be low—unusual at best.
The best way to analyze it would be using the Bayesian Inference, and using a probability model to express the uncertainty towards the situation. In this case, using a binary variable would be ideal, $Y$, to represent the outcome whether the missing rookie ever did turn up or not. $Y$ = 1 if the rookie is found, and $Y$ = 0 if the rookie isn’t found.
Then assume that the probability of finding said missing rookie is equal to the proportion of all missing persons who are eventually found. As evidence becomes available, then update the model with that evidence and compute the posterior distribution for the probability of finding the rookie.
In this case, if one of the higher ups discovered the rookie all pale and shaking and are obviously had been terrified to fucking death, the information in that scenario could be used to update the posterior distribution, taking into account that the probability that the rookie had seen something scary in that location, if they were ever found that is.
Once the model with all available evidence has been updated, the posterior distribution to make predictions of the probability of finding the new recruit can now be used. The officers tasked with finding them—at least those who hasn’t given up—will be able to find them within a certain time frame or calculate the probability that they’re are found alive or dead.
Just some basic statistics you’ve learned in ninth grade, that’s all. Or at least from what you can remember.
The scar that ran down the captain’s face was evident like the blood smeared in your hands when you’ve killed an enemy. No one knew why there was a huge damage to her face or why it was there in the first place. You’ve only been in KorTac for a month, almost everyone you’ve met have given you warnings and it was all the same—keep your distance from the colonel. You have half a mind to say “Fuck this” but the pay was good.
Not to mention your contract hasn’t been finished yet and you doubt you’d find a good paying job like this while doing what you love.
“Who was it?” You dared to ask.
Stiletto looks away for a moment, before turning back to you. “Private O’Neil.”
Your eyes widened at the information. You don’t know the person, but to hear a private going missing was surprising. Usually, it was the recruits who disappeared for the most part or at least from your observation in your stay here. Now that’s very strange.
“Huh… a Private? How come it wasn’t a rookie?”
“That’s what I’m thinking too.”
Stiletto responds with the same confusion as you, her lips pursed. She looks worried, unsure to react.
“The colonel had been tasked to investigate the missing cases, but even he isn’t getting any answers.” The captain says, her face troubled. “It’s like there’s a serial killer at base.”
“Like playing Mafia, huh.” You joked.
“Exactly.”
You’re scared of what this could mean. If whoever it was plucking the recruits off like grapes were about to turn to privates, then it won’t be long before your ass is on the line. You have half a mind to help, maybe offer your insights on the investigations, but thanks to Roze and Izzy’s advice, you knew better than to get too close to the colonel…
Unless you want to get beaten by König with your incompetency—what he deems incompetency—since he loves doing things his way according to the soldiers who had worked with him.
It wasn’t enough to scare the rookies, however. They’re still chatty and happy, all of them seemed unaffected by these rumours.
Of course, they’d be unaffected, everyone is telling them that it’s just rumours and the soldier that disappeared had simply been discharged for wanting to leave or go back home. There were a few who didn’t believe it, but those with higher ranks – including you – were reassuring them that it was merely rumours.
That they shouldn’t really worry their pretty little minds about it. And what infuriated you the most was because it worked. They were gullible kids, as young as sixteen to nineteen—basically a six to three years old age gap between you and them. They should know better than to believe the honeyed words from yours or their superiors’ mouth.
But could you even blame them?
They’re just kids. You and the other high-ranking officers were older than them, obviously they would trust you. They expect all of you to guide them, showing them the real ropes of war and violence unlike the trial sessions they’ve had in boot camp and the infantry.
So, really the blame was on every high ranking official—including you.
Everyone from being a specialist to the general of the army were losing their shit over these incidents because KorTac was supposed to promote opportunity and valour, but how can you do that if your fellow soldiers – doesn’t matter what rank they are – are going missing like some monster was plucking them off of their rooms one by one or rather off of the hallways when they’re past curfew.
Curfew falls under your responsibility too, sergeants up to lieutenant colonels were tasked to make sure that every rookie or corporal has to be following the curfew or rather their curfew. KorTac had implemented the curfew for the rookies up to the corporals’ weeks prior to your official employment according to Roze.
The last thing the people who called the shots wanted was a widespread panic amongst their troops.
“Do you have any hunch as to who it might be?” You asked her curiously, wanting to know the captain’s thoughts.
“It could be that newbie before you, Phillip Graves, but he’s mostly out on missions. So, that checks him out.” Stiletto answered, looking at you. “Then there could be the possibility of it being Horangi.”
“Why him?”
“He’s too violent.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Stiletto laughs at your response, shaking her head as if you’re being silly. The captain was nice, in your opinion at least. She pats you back lightly like an aunt would when you remind her of your mom when they were younger. There’s a twinkle in her eyes, one where it makes you wonder just how exactly does Stiletto see you—a daughter, sister or maybe a friend. Either way, you were in her good graces and that’s enough to quell your curiosities for now.
The two of you were practicing alone in the firing range. Those at the lower ranks had gone to sleep or were forced to sleep since it was curfew for them.
The atmosphere had gone heavy.
It was light and cheery in the morning, but at night, the happiness and laxness of the vicinity disappears, and you and the rest of the soldiers with a higher rank are faced with the reality that someone was picking off all of you one by one like candies inside your granny’s bowl of strawberry candy that you don’t see anywhere in the grocery store.
You know, the one’s you get when one day you became a grandma – or great-aunt, or even an honorary old “auntie” – and these things just magically appear at the bottom of your purse. The ones that once they start spilling out of your bag, you’ll find an intricate cut-glass bowl or dish in the middle of your living room and your grandkids or kids would just come and go while pocketing a handful of them, and the refill is somehow always in your purse.
Stiletto hands you a rosary from her pocket. You looked at the long wooden beads coated with silver chains and designs before glancing at the captain. You took it gently, letting the coolness of the holy object cool your skin that wraps around it. Oh, it’s a sweet gesture. Now you have something to wear around your neck, a little good luck charm despite the fact that you don’t really believe in God or a higher being. Her head is tilted to the side, looking at you with an analysing glance as silence befalls the two of you.
“Why…?” You asked her underneath the fluorescent lights of the firing range, riffles forgotten at each other’s side.
Stiletto shrugs, sighing tiredly, “Maybe the thing that’s picking us off one by one would be scared of the Lord.”
“I doubt he exists.”
“He’ll save you in your time of need. He answered my prayers. Maybe He’ll answer yours too.”
“What did you pray for?”
Stiletto is quiet for a moment, looking away before looking back at you with worry. She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a gentle squeeze.
“That you would still be alive the next time I see you… that you wouldn’t be next, lieutenant.”
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“You’re the lieutenant that Horangi had referred to the company, ja?”
A voice says with a German accent to it, and by Mary, Joseph, and the Babeh Jesus what an alluring voice he has. It was low and rough, a tad bit raspy—gravelly. You thought to yourself that if you were Persephone and you heard this voice coaxing you into the warm embrace of the Underworld, you too would have cartwheeled and backflipped into Hades’s lap. Leaving the nymphs and the flowers, and the warm sun to drown in the enticing embrace of the God of Death while he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.
You turned around, half a mind to fuck the brains out of this man until you saw who was speaking to you and all horniness came to a halt as you realized who it was.
König.
You glanced directly at his eyes briefly before averting you gaze, Roze’s warning echoing in your head. You nod your head, confirming his question. You tell him your name and rank, which country you came from, and basically any general information you can tell to confirm your identity. Konig nods his head at your words. His eyes crinkled—was he smiling underneath the sniper hood?—and you can hear a smug tone on his voice.
“Ja, leutnantin, I’ve read your files.”
“Oh.”
Your eyes glanced to the side, seeing some soldiers chattering at the end of the hall. Good. There are people around. A polite smile blossoms on your face, offering it to the colonel – just like you would whenever you bump into a senior officer. Your mind raced why he was suddenly talking to you.
HE BARELY RESPONDED SO WHY WAS HE SUDDENLT BEING A CHATTER BOX?! You internally panicked since he often responded in hums or grunts whenever you give your report, didn’t even glance at you whenever the two of you passed by each other.
So, why now?
“Did you need something, sir?” You asked him politely, tilting your head a little as you crane your head to look at him properly because holy shit, he’s so fucking tall.
“I do, actually, Schatz.” König responds, cold eyes gazing down at your smaller form. “I need your help with a… serious matter. Come with me to my office.”
His strides are big and long as you struggled to keep up with him as he walked down the halls. Your eyes glued to his massive thighs… and oh. The soldiers within the halls part like the sea as König passed by as if he was Noah. They all lower their gaze, chattering going to a halt until only the sound of the storm raging outside can be heard.
“So, why do we need to go to your office?”
But König doesn’t answer, and his hands balled to a fist. You can see the cloth crinkle as his grip dug into his palms, while he ignores your question. Which is, in a way, rude since you were simply trying to gouge out information as to why your colonel was summoning you to his office. You furrowed your brows at his actions.
“It’s the least I should know, don’t you think–”
“Are you always so noisy?”
You blinked owlishly at his words, the colonel barely looking or glancing at you as he continued to walk down the halls of KorTac. Your breath hitches in your throat as you register the slight annoyance in his voice.
He finally looks at you, eyes crinkling as he laughs. And oh god, his laugh. The mere sound of it makes your cheek warm and make both of your lips smile.
“The look on your face earlier is funny, Schatz. However, you’re a lieutenant, no? I’m sure that despite how young you are, you’re mature enough to know that there are classified things that can only be discussed within the confines of an office, ja?”
“I’m sorry, colonel. I didn’t mean to let it slip off of my head.”
You feel like winning the lottery, but the prize isn’t a billion bucks—it’s the fact that you haven’t angered the colonel, and he’s not bashing your head to the pavement or maybe stabbing you where you stand and tearing your flesh with his gloved hands.
You don’t notice the guilt that settles on your face… nor the look of softness and endearment on König’s face as he admires the look of culpability blossoms on you face.
The softness of your face, the way your eyes are filled with such an adorable shyness when you think that he would actually reprimand you for something so innocent. You were so little compared to him too, so fragile… so weak. He relishes in this power over you—power over your reactions and your expressions. You looked so eager to stay on his good side. So eager to please him in your own innocent way. Whether you intentionally do it or not, König is being pumped full of dopamine at just you talking to him.
He's had his eye on you for a long while. The moment you stepped foot on base, beneath the scorching sun of the tarmac, König wanted nothing more than to snatch you and make you his. Drag you away from KorTac, smuggle you to Austria and lock you away in his house by the sea shore, away from prying eyes.
Where he can have you all to himself.
But even his rank and reputation in KorTac couldn’t save or excuse his behaviour if he does that. Everyone would think he was a freak or someone creepy if he were to ever just scoop you up. The way your voice echoes when you bark out your orders to those inferior to you, the way it softens when you talk to your friends – especially to Horangi, and König s gnawing at the cages of his enclosure because he wished you would talk to him the way you would to Horangi.
He wants to talk again without addressing you formally, but he is awkward with connecting to people. Even when he tried to follow his psychiatrist’s advice in trying to open up to people, König still has a hard time trying to initiate a conversation. The words piling up in his throat—stuck there for the rest of eternity.
 König doesn’t know what to do with his hands, resisting the strong urge to grab yours—so tiny and adorable­—and let his giant hand envelope it. You are pouting, gaze averted to the ground, cheek rosy from embarrassment, probably reprimanding yourself that you should’ve known better.
König isn’t sure if he wants you to be scared of him or not – and he hates that you are the first one to be an exception to his desires, because he wanted everyone to fear him. There is something dark, disgustingly predatory almost, in his thoughts as he watched you beat yourself up, but he doesn’t speak, and his fists are balled up because your voice and adorable face were too fucking much and he doesn’t even know how to talk to a girl in his adult years.
“C-colonel, we’re here.”
You hate that you stutter, but you can’t help it since your heart skipped a beat when you looked up and saw König looking at you with such softness and tenderness from his gigantic height. You had to take a deep breath, shaking your head at the delusion it’s not a delusion, you aren’t seeing things runnin in your head.
No.
That was wrong. That idea in itself would be wrong. The colonel was someone wise despite his violent tendencies. He would never entertain the idea of being with a fellow soldier. Not to mention bend the rules just to risk his position and rank. It would be stupid for him. It wouldn’t be worth it for him, and you just fucking know it.
“Ah… right. Bitte, wait a minute.”
You can see how miniscule the keys are to his hand, his form bending down a little and when he stood back up, he was at least three inches taller than the fucking doorway. He turns the lights on and gestures for you to step in. He closed the door behind you as you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his gigantic desk.
The desk looked proportionate to his form, and the office chair he has accommodates him greatly and it makes your heart flutter because he looks like a king and all he had to do was give out his decree, and you would be scrambling to do said decree to please him because holy shit something about how big he is, is making your insides churn deliciously–
Wait. Bitch, you better stop. Your thoughts screeched to halt, smacking yourself internally because you’re sure you’re not yet in your ovulation week because you just finished your period four days prior… No, that’s not true, you lost track of your cycle due to the recent events that happened at base. The colonel was twiceyour size, and you’re not sure if you can take him.
Not in a fight, of course.
“So, about the recent events happening here at base, I’m sure you’re well aware of it by now.” König starts, leaning at the desk. “Soldiers are disappearing left and right, the younger ones wouldn’t take long before they stop buying our lies, and we need a way to stop whoever it is that is picking is off and making us drop like flies.”
He stopped, eyes roaming as if he’s analysing you.
“Hase, you are quite the prodigy that at such a young age you’ve managed to achieve the rank of lieutenant, and I am completely impressed.” König says, nodding to himself as if he’s proud of you. “Someone of your calibre would be of valuable help to catch the culprit or, rather, the creature that’s currently on the loose in base and hunting us one by one.”
“Creature? Don’t you mean person?”
“I’d like you to look at these and tell me that a human was behind these incidents.”
König slides you a dossier and you merely throw a confused glance at him before opening said dossier, and you almost–No. You do regret opening the fucking folder.
The entrails of the victims are chewed off and sprawled across the floor, the ground was a sea of blood. Some of them had missing parts, but mostly the torso was empty, intestines being the only thing left behind from the inside of the corpses, and there were a few where the eyes hangs out of its socket and runs down their faces like a veiny egg yolk. You want to look away, but you can’t. Some pictures showed the skins have been peeled off, most had been cleanly peeled off. Even the nipples were intact. Never to this day have you seen anything so horrible.
Finally, the urge to puke tore your attention away from the files, smacking it to the table as you swivelled your head away, and your mouth unhinged as the familiar disgusting liquid of your insides went past your throat. Before any of it could spill past your lips, a bucket had been shoved to catch it. König holds the bucket to your mouth. Meanwhile, you did nothing but vomit. Over and over again. Long after it seemed there was nothing more to bring up, you continued to vomit.
At last, after a good solid minute, you stopped. Tears prickled your face as puke-mixed snot went down your throat. König was kind enough to offer you tissues to help clean yourself up before he hands you a glass of water, and getting rid of your vomit.
“I’m sorry.” You weakly said. “That caught me off guard and I–” The words cut off in your thought as you shuddered as the pictures seared into your head. Well, guess this is my thirteenth reason.
“It’s fine, Schatz. Nothing to be sorry about. It is rare for someone to stomach such evidence.” He reassures you.
His giant hand rubs soothing circles on your back and it’s so comforting that you eventually calm down and catch your breath. The taste of bile still lingers and you downed glass after glass of water just to get rid of it but seemingly failing to do so. Yet it is nothing compared to the electrifying touch of König’s fingers that glide behind your back, passing by the wing ang hooks of your bra. Of course, he didn’t mean to do that he most definitely did intendes to do that because he was just trying to ease you out of your sickened state.
“I’m sorry.” You say again.
The pout on your lips was making you adorable and König was glad he was the way that he was right now. Had he been the same age as you, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back. He would’ve pushed you down on his desk, giant hands spreading your legs, tearing your clothes, while he makes you beg for his cock–
“As I’ve said before, Schatz. It’s fine. We have to recompose ourselves from time to time. After all, we’re only human, no?”
You look up at him from where you seat, smiling softly at him. He was so nice. Your eyes flickered to his neck, and then on to his fingers. Seeing the lack of wedding band on him had you feeling butterflies. Was he not married? Who wouldn’t want to marry him? Was he ugly?
His baby blue eyes—like a mixture of storm grey skies and the heartless depths of the ocean—were a soft hint to the fact that he was handsome. You just know. Unconsciously licking your lips, your eyes scanned him over – in the most shameless manner, but that was fine. You can always chuck it up to you just analysing him.
“Now, Schatz.” His fingers wrapped around you chin, coaxing you gently to look up at him. “Lieutenant colonel Allard, Captain O’Neil, and I will be conducting a manhunt starting at 00:00 up until to 04:30 this Friday. Allard would be taking the North side of the base, I’ll be taking the South, and O’Neil would be taking the West area–”
You paid attention to every word he said, nodding your head every now and then. You kept your eyes locked to his, unaware of the growing tent inches away from your face in your colonel’s pants.
“–which is why I called you to my office.” His voice rips you out of your trance. “I wanted to ask you if you would be willing to lend out a hand in catching whatever it was that’s picking us off one by one?”
“Yes, sir.”
The way you responded with such speed had you internally clutching your pearls. You were so confused as to why you had agreed so easily without even asking for the details. Hopefully, your colonel would be kind enough to graciously brief you and the team before he sends you all out to play limbo with this culprit.
König smiles at your eagerness to help the team—to help him. The younger ones weren’t so eager like you; often having to be bribed with a reward just to help. But you? You said yes without any hesitation.
“Are you married, Schatz?”
“No, sir.”
“How come? Most female or male soldiers your age are married. Why aren’t you?”
“Why aren’t you?”
Your body tensed as your mind caught up with that loose mouth of yours, but before you could even stop yourself the words had already been uttered into the world.  Holding your tongue and making you blurt this in front of your superior needs to be fired. Like, bro, pick a different sim to fuck up. Please. You might’ve had the chance to be in his good graces, being offered promotion after promotion because König did say he’s read your files – he’s awfully touchy too, but maybe that’s because he’s comfortable around you. You might’ve had a chance of walking out the office, alive and healthy with nothing but a nod of a head and telling you to be prepared for the operation this upcoming Friday – but now you’ve said those words with such casualness that it doesn’t really suit the dynamic between you two, and could promptly land you to some punishments. You could–
The colonel chuckles, eyes closed as his shoulder’s shook, and the sound of it makes your cheeks flare with warmth.
“What gave it away, Schatz?”
Your body relaxed, seeing he wasn’t offended or irritated by your response.
“It’s uh… um, the lack of wedding ring, sir.”
“Oh? What an observant klein leutnantin.”
He looks at you, contemplating for a moment before König spoke.
“I have trouble finding a… suitable mate, if you will. Mutter often tells me that I’m a carbon copy of my father, which could explain why she’s so distant and hostile towards me. I don’t… I don’t know or saw the need to find a partner until… until recently.”
His gaze lands on you as he said the last two words. You furrowed your brows, wondering who or what could’ve changed his mind. With a tilt of your head to the side, you asked him a question that stems from his words.
“How come your mother hated you just because you looked like your father? You can’t exactly control your looks.”
“Because he was a monster who had forced himself on her, and forced her to carry his child – which would be me.”
Your eyes widened at that. You didn’t exactly expect the colonel to say it so casually, as if it’s a fun fact you’re telling to a kindergarten. You pursed your lips, looking away, feeling awkward and bad now that you had brought up the topic.
“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t… know.” Was all you can muster.
“You seem to not know anything at all, Schatz.” He cooed at you. “It’s alright. You needn’t be sorry. How I was born is something I cannot control, but the outcome of who I can be is.”
König chuckles, walking over to pat your head affectionately and holy shit it has your heart racing.
“Growing up, the children my age shunned me. They had thrown rocks at me, calling me a monster. My mother did nothing to comfort me, dismissing me and shoving a sack to cover my face. I spent most times outside the house, often sleeping on caves by the waters or at the sand by the shore. The lake is something comforting, I must say… I miss it – yearn for it, if you will."
“Lake? Don’t you mean ocean?”
“My hometown was in Hallstatt Lake, Austria.”
His words ring a bell. You could’ve sworn you’ve heard of Hallstatt Lake before. You tried to remember where you heard it, but couldn’t. Oh, well. If I can’t remember it, then it ain’t that important.
 My father travelled from the ocean and dwelled by the lakes of that area. Then he saw mein mutter and... you know how that story went. Anyways, I have learned that I am… hideous. Therefore, that is one of the contributes as to why I am still, in your kind’s terms, single.”
“So you’ve never had partners before? Not even… I dunno… doing the devil’s tango? Sex?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “No, Schatz. They back out the last minute.”
You looked at him pitifully. He was a lonely man, wanting to have someone beside him and yet his self-esteem was so low. Maybe fucking him could boost his self-esteem. It’s not like I’m craving him, I’m simply helping. Maybe I could be the first to teach him the intimate touch of a woman. The comforts of the flesh. There was something about damaged men that are just so fucking hot. After all, it’s just a twenty-three years old age gap between König and I – Woah, what?! Pause. Your thoughts screeched to a halt, pinching yourself for letting it wander off that far.
How did it get to this?
How did the two of you get so comfortable to the point he’s literally just trauma dumping on you, and you’re lending an ear to listen. You should be walking out f the door, telling him this was unprofessional but you find yourself glued to the chair, heart going out to König as you empathize with him.
“I may not know what you look like under the mask, but mom did tell me that you can see if a person has a handsome or beautiful face is by looking at the shape of their eyes.”
“Oh? And what have you deduced from just observing my eyes, Schatz? Am I considered monstrous?”
“No, sir… I’d say you’re beautiful.”
König’s eyes widened at your words, his cheeks burning beneath the mask and he’s so fucking thankful that you can’t see his face or what he looks like underneath. His heart thumps louder than it did when he first saw you.
He is fighting the urge to invite you to move in with him to his quarters, keeping you all to himself. König’s sure that his bedroom is way more spacious and comfier than that of a lieutenant’s. The Austrian giant has to physically restrain himself from snatching you, and dragging you into the shadows with him where no one can rip you from his embrace – he can’t bear thinking about you being with someone else.
“Was it offensive… sir?”
“No, liebling. I just think you are blind.”
König would absolutely whisk you away right now. All you need to do was say the word, and he’d be following your words as if they are the ten commandments. He can and will buy you an estate if you want, just pick a place—preferably in Hallstatt, Austria—and that would be easy for him. König would love to just provide for you, to get to go home to someone as adorable and meek as you are – eager to succeed and be praised by the most little of things. You would be protected there. No one would ever disturb you.
His father was never there for his mother. Left nothing to support her other than trauma after he was hunted down by the townsfolk and brutally murdered. König tells himself that he would be different, that he would give you the world. You need only ask. 
He understands that being delusional isn’t healthy, and that his psychiatrist would definitely shoot him with a Nerf gun for letting himself descend into this type of madness, but he was old.
And lonely.
And you’re just so sweet and so nice to him, going so far as to tell him he’s beautiful. And despite spending too much time in waters, König drowns himself in fantasies about you being in a giant house, welcoming him home after his deployment, pregnant and eager to kiss him sweetly. You who can be his everything. A cure for his troubles and woes, even though his psychiatrist had severely advised him to not put your partner on high pedestals because it is extremely unhealthy and co-dependent.
König knows he can’t just blurt shit out as he pleases, lest he scares you away. You would scream at him, call him a sociopath – or a psychopath if you aren’t as knowledgeable as him in the department of terms. He is only self-aware enough to know that he can lose you if he made one wrong move.          
He’s old and tired. And he wants to experience fatherhood before he dies, preferably having you as his klein Frau. But he can’t rush you. He needs to bid his time. In that moment, König decided—regretfully so—to let you go back to your duties for the day.
He needed to get close to you than he ever did before—needed to work with you to have you close to him at all times.
“That would be all, liebling.” König says to you. “You are free to go now. I don’t really want to hold you up here for too long.”
“It’s an honour to be picked by you, colonel.” You chirp happily, eager to maintain this casualness between you two in hopes of getting promoted faster.
The giant, behemoth of a man watches you walk away from him, eyes glued to your hips and adorable, plump ass. Your frame still smaller than him even when you stood up to your full height. It was endearing to him. Soft blue eyes following your every move, watching you as you give him one last smile and a friendly wave before you closed the door shut behind you.
“I’d say you’re beautiful.”
Your words echoed in his head, making the older being flustered as he ran his hands over his face and sighed. He couldn’t get it out of his mind, and he knew he’d be clinging to that until the day he died.
“It shall be the day that the sun is at its peak when you find what you longingly desire. Once the sky is thick with water and the blood of warriors are spilled, the gods will give you a chance to converse with this creature. You should turn them away. Put them at arms-length, but you are a selfish being. You would devour them, drain them until they are merely husks because of your depravities… I pity this young girl.”
He recalls the stupid reading he had gotten from a so-called ‘wise woman’ twelve years ago in her quaint house at Wolfengasse street. Maybe that völva was genuine in her craft before she left Austria.
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